What's your favorite food? EdibleOrgy

arielsgoddess

Really Really Experienced
Joined
Jul 22, 2009
Posts
458
Okay, Eroticas: somehow I ended-up writing about peanut butter, and now a certain moderator (to protect the lady's honor, I won't say who) has got me going about ears of corn--HELP! I want everybody to post or PM me their fave food or a poem of their fave food. Anybody not posting a poem on their own fave food, I will try to write one for you. (For an idea of what I mean, look at the thread SKIPPY....)Ready, GO:
 
I take my steak medium rare
cook it with considerable care.
Butter broiled mushrooms on the side
and asparagus I also provide
 
Keeping it simple

peanutbutterspreadbumptily
on toast and peppered with grinder
and salt and slices and slices of chedder, mature.

Oh, and Earlgrey tea, hot, to wash down the buttery bolus.
 
The big C (chocolate of course). Can't get enough of it. Seriously. I want death by chocolate.
 
curry or cheese
cheese or curry

i can't decide

or maybe sushi :eek:
 
What a good idea, Ariel. :)

I forget when I wrote this, a while back, but it's still my favorite food so here goes:

Better Pizza Blues
by Angeline ©

(Read aloud with blues in playing loud. Sing along!)

Don't call no Domino's,
if you wanna taste my pie.
Thumbs down on Pizza Hut
cause that shit'll make you cry.
Give you a nosebleed baby,
make your tummy crash.
Forget about those places.
This girl don't eat no trash.

Follow me to South Street,
stay close and hold my hand,
walk rough, strut your swagger.
That's what we understand.
You're in my world now honey,
so smile and just act cool.
We're headed for DeLorenzo's:
Think of it as Pizza School.

There's sausage and pepper
and mushroom, black olive,
anchovy and onion, too.
Pepperoni cause baby
this ain't no bologna
fly pie with no barbeque!

Now take a slice, hold it,
open up, fold it, bite it
and give it a chew, swallow
and breathe. You're my homie
now and garlic
is so good for you.

http://www.onlyinsanfrancisco.com/taste/foodie411/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/pizza.jpg
 
This is a story in the Little Boat

Pardon, stretch me out tai-chi, open me to the sun. I haven't spun one like this for so long. Being erotic is hard for me. I never know when to caress and when to cross the line.
----


I was the youngest chef
on the Spirit of Endeavor
and the least talented

the little boat was old
and ferried old people
around ice bergs, sea lions, and whales
in Alaska

the boat nose
cleaved the sea
spraying a perpetual
fleshy diamond
its very form leaving
a gashing wake
broken artfully in the
constant wavey lines

the hearth of the little boat
kissed hard and hot
my fingers and arms itched with scabs
the hot place marking me with contact
sucking out my moisture in sea tribal designs

on saturdays
we had crab for dinner
flick the ovens the right way
and they steam
unseen ducts
salivate vaporous waters

we put crab in perforated pans
and steam them for about 6 mins.
you have to be a genius to extract the meal
the task is hardened by the moisture

oven mitts are useless
temperature rides water-slide through
fabrics and lick hands
not quite burning but leaving things
red and throbbing
the old scars scream; expecting new connection

one night while pulling out
of the lower oven
I forgot to back up for the first gust of steam
it went right through my clothes
the caress
burnt my throat and wet my
balls in the same moment
when I flexed my muscles to stand
my penis jerked in the new
lubricated sleeve

the other chefs laughed
at my soaked face
my manager said someone
wanted to see me in the dining room

I dried my face with a clean towel
and set off through the double doors
to civility where we kept the passengers

polished and lit by candle light
a pretense world of white linen and silverware
in plates my hard work was picked over
between sips of wine and charming words

in the corner one woman ate with relish
her feet kicked up at every bite
her heels had been long removed
and her toes spread occasionally
grabbing tufts of carpet

she called me over
raising in her seat and curling her finger
her dress slipped
exposing pieces of bra

she complimented me on the
tenderness
lips wet smacking
glossy nails dipping in the fat
sucking what she couldn't get with
her fingers out of the shell

she tipped me
wiping off on her dress
the twenty dollar bill was bait
for the hug and kiss that followed
she pressed against my wet uniform
smelling like Alaskan King
 
Pardon, stretch me out tai-chi, open me to the sun. I haven't spun one like this for so long. Being erotic is hard for me. I never know when to caress and when to cross the line.
----


I was the youngest chef
on the Spirit of Endeavor
and the least talented

the little boat was old
and ferried old people
around ice bergs, sea lions, and whales
in Alaska

the boat nose
cleaved the sea
spraying a perpetual
fleshy diamond
its very form leaving
a gashing wake
broken artfully in the
constant wavey lines

the hearth of the little boat
kissed hard and hot
my fingers and arms itched with scabs
the hot place marking me with contact
sucking out my moisture in sea tribal designs

on saturdays
we had crab for dinner
flick the ovens the right way
and they steam
unseen ducts
salivate vaporous waters

we put crab in perforated pans
and steam them for about 6 mins.
you have to be a genius to extract the meal
the task is hardened by the moisture

oven mitts are useless
temperature rides water-slide through
fabrics and lick hands
not quite burning but leaving things
red and throbbing
the old scars scream; expecting new connection

one night while pulling out
of the lower oven
I forgot to back up for the first gust of steam
it went right through my clothes
the caress
burnt my throat and wet my
balls in the same moment
when I flexed my muscles to stand
my penis jerked in the new
lubricated sleeve

the other chefs laughed
at my soaked face
my manager said someone
wanted to see me in the dining room

I dried my face with a clean towel
and set off through the double doors
to civility where we kept the passengers

polished and lit by candle light
a pretense world of white linen and silverware
in plates my hard work was picked over
between sips of wine and charming words

in the corner one woman ate with relish
her feet kicked up at every bite
her heels had been long removed
and her toes spread occasionally
grabbing tufts of carpet

she called me over
raising in her seat and curling her finger
her dress slipped
exposing pieces of bra

she complimented me on the
tenderness
lips wet smacking
glossy nails dipping in the fat
sucking what she couldn't get with
her fingers out of the shell

she tipped me
wiping off on her dress
the twenty dollar bill was bait
for the hug and kiss that followed
she pressed against my wet uniform
smelling like Alaskan King

I'm very glad to have met this poem.
 
My favorite is anything Italian. Italian food has the perfect assortment of pasta, sauces, breads, and desserts. There is also so much cheese on it, which I really like because there is just so much flavor added into it.
 
My, how you've bloomed,
steam still raising from your petals
once tough, now so delicate.

I always pluck the first from somewhere
near your center, one of your most intimate pieces.

Marveling at the way the drawn butter
(or mayonnaise on less romantic occasions)
rests in your natural curves, graceful.

My teeth drag against your flesh,
you taste of cream and vegetable meat and bliss.





(note: I fucking love artichokes.)
 
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My, how you've bloomed,
steam still raising from your petals
once tough, now so delicate.

I always pluck the first from somewhere
near your center, one of your most intimate pieces.

Marveling at the way the drawn butter
(or mayonnaise on less romantic occasions)
rests in your natural curves, graceful.

My teeth drag against your flesh,
you taste of cream and vegetable meat and bliss.


I fucking love artichokes.

This was ars poetica erotica optima until the small italics post script that seemed superfluous to the otherwise beautifully crafted poem.
 
Nice to see a poem here again, rather than statements about food preferences.
What happened to Arielsgoddess anyhow - she seems to have vanished?
 
Honey

Honey

Your eyes sparkle black to gold
From some secret alchemy
You face shining and smooth
Scarf holding your hair back
Framing it like a honeycomb
I want to pull it and watch you spill

Flesh made of liquid sunshine
As you glisten in the heat
Fermenting perfume into the air
You hear not my stealthy approach
Mesmerized as I am by the sight
Smell and sound of you
Humming some song from your homeland

Caught thickly in my hands suddenly
I lean in for a taste of you on my lips and
Become so intoxicated by your nectar
That the ground comes up magically to meet me
I look up at you in smiling stupor and whisper
Come and drip your loveliness onto me
As I pull the rest of the clothes from you

Cover me in your slow cascade
Reform your form upon me sweetness
In all manner of the manna you are made of
That I am dying to drown in as you wrap around
Clinging to my flesh as you pull me inside you
The light explodes and I am in your world
My ears and skin tingling from the buzz
Amber ecstacy coloring my sight

Mumbling and bumbling happily together
Until at last we can stumble back to reality
Where I carefully caress and redress you to hide
The preciousness of my discovery from the rest of the hive
One last kiss from you my golden goddess
And then reluctantly I must take flight


**********************************************************
Thank you, EroticOrogeny :heart: I will explain my absence and other oddities soon :) It means a great deal to be missed :heart:
 
Just as I was leaving for work I noticed a can of whipped cream - wrote a private poem for my wife about whip cream etc.
 
LOL--You really have me going tonight, Annie...

...Which is pure happiness, because I needed it :)

It doesn't matter what we're talking about, I always have these wildly creative ideas that I either have to hand-off to friends or reject--simply because I am the one that would have to clean up the aftermath, lol!
 
Your next assingment if you chose to accept it is to write about messy sex lol I'm afraid if I wrote such a one it would deffo come out as comical as I find nothing erotic in whipped cream or chocolate body paint
 
Go for it, milady!!!

My favorite stories--some 'ever', some 'icebreakers' when getting people together--are those: the classic setup turned into the story of things gone horribly (and to the outsider, comically) wrong! They are hilarious, largely due to all of us identifying through real life. I can recount (or should I recant? lol) many times when I have gone to a great deal of effort for a romantic or elaborate rendezvous, only to end the evening looking like I stepped out of an I Love Lucy episode, complete with bursting into tears.

I'm game if you are Annie :) You have always been a great inspiration here, both as rival and as a friend :kiss: (That was your face I just kissed....in case you were wondering, lol). Do you want to post them here or start another thread? I know EO and several of the others could be counted to join in ;)
 
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