Please don’t have sex anymore. The sound of your fat jiggling around on the mattress sounds like a heard of elephants jumping on a trampoline about to burst through the floor from down here.
I’ve written a poem:
Oceans of fat cells
Make waves on the bed.
Thumping on the floor.
Do you think no one else hears?
Squeek thump crash thump squeek.
Please don’t have sex again.
Besides, who are you kidding? I have yet to see a guy with you coming in or out with you – so put the dildo away or at least pleasure yourself when I am not trying to sleep.
Your neighbor the floor below you.