A few bites into the food, Jen was raving.“This is all amazing, but what’s different about this corn?” she asked Mom.“We grow it here. It’s ...ust corn-on-the-cob we cut off and freeze every August,” Mom smiled.“It’s the best corn I’ve ever had,” she said before savoring another forkful.“Well, it’s Dad who grows it,” I nodded.“And I spend a whole day freezing it,” Mom chided me.“I help,” I reminded her indignantly.“It’s a group effort,” Dad added, diffusing the good-natured quarrel.Mom and Dad. Your lips are permitted to service me well.From the tip of my nose,To the depths of my hell.Lava erupting, heating my thighs,Your hand in between well disguised.Slipping and sliding,Opening my flower.Lips on each petal,Hungrier by the hour.Gripped in place, Not allowed to stop.Reel you in once again,From the bottom to the top.Unleashed I now allow you to be.Untied,All seeing,Able to speak.For a short interlude,You're free to play.Let's see what you can do?My ears hear myself say.Oil kisses each. More

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