Sex In The Kitchen Poem by Sandra Black

The warmth, permeates through my pores
Fills me with a tingling feeling in my head
Why this is the hottest place after my bed
Your aroma arouses my senses
My olfactory picks it up and my amygdala tenses
The garlic and the oysters have done me much good
Things have perked up beneath my hood

I drown in my own hot thoughts
As I gently caress the pots
The curved smooth shiny vestibule
Invites me but I'm a stubborn mule
I yearn the long cylinders of cucumber and carrot
They remind me of dark pleasures
I'm green as a parrot

The long black handle throbs between my fingers
I caress it gently and await it's response
My fingers fly from tip to base
Can anyone see the ecstasy en face?
Dancing a tightrope to and fro
When the strokes are done
They lie limp in repose

A cool breeze blows on the icy bits
Satiated they now await the oven mitts
Sheathed and protected they are all ready
To begin the plunder anew
Ooh the kitchen has aromas so heady
It tenses my muscles and tingles the sinew
Blissful heaven a warm vestibule for bread leavened