Everywhere I go in life, X is there too.
I love X. It’ exotic. X adds spice to life.
Sex is great but triple XXX has that je ne sais quoi as the French say.
I like to be impulsive but feel even wilder when I’m quixotic.
X rarely disappoints except in novels by Cervantes about Don Quixote who is some wimp with no X appeal.
The same thing has happened to Xerox, who despite their double X can’t get it on anymore.
I enjoy marriage because it comes with an ex.
To show my affinity for X, I moved to a neighborhood with the postal code of C1A 8X4.
X marks the spot. Exactly.
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