I have this growl in my belly
and you know just how to fill me up
yet leave me begging for more.
Every encounter is a 5 course meal 
of you.
An appetizer of lips, tongue, kisses.
A salad tossed with your carresses, embraces.
We move on to a sizzling main course
and enjoy it suculence,
anticipating the decadent dessert to come.
I taste your sweetness, close my eyes
and enjoy.
You indulge my weakness for a bit of the bubbly
and I taste your champagne-sweetened lips.
Emeril's got nothing on you, baby!
You poke my full tummy and laughingly ask
if I want to dine al fresca tomorrow night.