Exercise in the erotically mundane

I reach out, the cool smoothness

unrelenting as I grip; anticipation sends

a tiny shiver coursing up my spine.

I lick my lips, fluid pools, and I pull,

pull harder towards my chest the weight of it,

breathing in an indescribably sweet scent;

the scent of fragile, pliable warmth.

Stepping forward to the glass I blink;

my reflection, flushed with pleasure, blinks back at me.

Beyond, plump red nestles in a silky bed of cream;

smooth golden flesh drizzled with glistening wetness.

Amber and chocolate intertwine, merging in their dance

to become as one, and enthralled I

reach out, quivering with need,

fingertips press, breath quickens,

lashes flutter and sweep against rose blushed cheeks.

And I watch as a pair of flawless hands

dart in to cup the delicate treat I have chosen

and deliver it into my hands.

I bring it to my mouth,

where, with the soft caress of my tongue,

it explodes in the ecstasy of confection's perfection.

. . . . .

AKA - a trip to the french bakery

. . . . .

This was a product of another school exercise. Those college professors!