Sonnetimerickette: a commissioned poem

Darjeeling limited our time last night,
My neo-Amish bride and I did watch.
'Though popcorn flowed, her hand stayed off my crotch.
I swore not, but stared on into the light.

(I vowed do it as one
And have just as much fun....)

And evening ended, and came time for bed,
The turned down sheets, alarm clock set for dawn,
The virgin bride was snoring, quickly gone,
I mustered visions, struggled in my head.
But fingers, fuck, more used to prayer than ass,
Did fold, not fondle, so it goes, alas.