The Average of Weekends?

If this day is part of an ordinary weekend then call me Gloria.
Sensuous, the withered washings of clothes on the sunday mornings were nothing but sexual for the traditional family.1

The bread as a starter transpired into a stale lump and the expiry date of the home made crumble was up and over the normal tickles.2

The mothers tippet tickled her and got groped by the serving butler and 'pass the butter sister' while the father takes tobacco at the table.3

Conversations mellowed and became obsolete towards the animated afternoons and before thanking their God for the supper given, their brother audienced and announced some over eighteen rated quick hanky panky with the scrubby maid named Sandy.4

When all things were dandy and full, the family sat down together with dirty habit. The little son who slept in the corner having a dirty dream woke to stare at another weekend contuse, which was given to him like a conundrum.5

Wet, against the shelter outside balanced the arguments and during late hours, the night fell and brang the morning after.6