Good Morning

A trail of clothes led to the bed

Where she woke alone

She touched the fresh headed prints on the other pillow

“Where is he?” She thought to herself

She looked up to see him cooking breakfast naked

That ass

But it was her who was underdressed for breakfast wearing only wearing her panties and his shirt

He placed his fedora on her head

Ahhh. Now she was ready to eat. 

But first they need to taste each other’s morning breath. 


They separate their upper bodies to exchange pleasantries but their lower bodies are attached 

A knock at the door in iambic pentameter interrupts the wetness from getting hard again like water to a cube 

But as soon as that poet leaves … 


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