At a table one morn, a couple did sit,
Over breakfast, they shared tales, bit by bit.
She said, “In a dream, an auction took place,
Where pen**es stood, awaiting their grace.
“Nice-sized ones were cheap, only a twenty-five fare,
The larger ones more, at fifty, if you dare,
But the spectacular ones, they went high and bold,
A hundred dollars, or so I was told.”
He raised an eyebrow, asked with a jest,
“”Is that right? How much did one like mine go for?”
She smirked, replied, “Oh, dear, don’t be tense,
Yours was a bargain, just fifty cents.”
He chuckled and said, “I too had a vision,
Of a similar auction, but a different decision.
Vag**as they sold, in variety and range,
From okay ones to tight, the bids would exchange.
“Twenty-five for the basics, fifty for the snug,
And the tightest, a hundred, fetched under the rug.”
She raised her chin, asked, “Oh yeah? How much did one like mine go for?”
He smiled, “My love, that’s where they held the auction.”