KITCHEN LAID

The kitchen door was shut behind,
But cooking was not on our mind.
We embraced, shortness of her dress
Left plenty of leg to caress,
Upon each other's necks we breathed,
Her chest in heavier breaths heaved.
We loosened buttons, raising heat,
We felt each other we could eat.

"A tasty morsel you are so!"
I joked, eyeing her legs below
To the painted nails of her toes
As she undid her killer shoes.
"Then", she asked, "What will we eat with?"
I replied, "I've something to give."
As I opened the cupboard door,
Took jam and butter from my store.

We let our clothes to the floor drop.
I bade her lie upon the top
When we had got things a flutter,
Smearing each other with butter
And jam to make the session sticky,
Tempt each other to be licky.
On her buttocks she did recline
And lay, legs opened, on the pine.

On the table, then onto her
I climbed, licking her pubic fur,
Her navel and tip of each breast
Before, in her, my Part found rest,
Having been licked clean from her mouth,
Spurring me to take things down south.
“Tastiest woman ever made”
Was in my kitchen that night laid.