On Dimples Denting

I planted kisses on her bisquits.
That's what she wished,
And I obliged.

I did not know what this had meant.
She mentioned passing condiments.
And during the meal she burned incense.
When she stirred the gravy...
I complimented her,
On dimples denting her thighs!
Amazed and surprised...
How much she could do with her toes!
And how athletic she was with those!

'Careful...
I'm sensitive! '

She did confessed...
I was her only dinner guest!
And dessert she planned to serve...
Was going to be the best taste I deserved.
As I noticed the bolted locks on her door...
She immediately stripped and became topless!
And there the keys around her neck she wore.

I can not say which course was more delicious!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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