Dear vanilla yogurt,
Damn.
I was feeling frisky that night at Kroger. I picked you up, along with that slutty tart cousin of yours, Low-fat Strawberry, and your ugly friend Brussels Sprouts. The sprouts were bitter and sulked off to the freezer, for-probably-ever, and Strawberry turned out to be too fake — what, with her flashy ace-k and sucralose and other added flavors.
But you… oh baby, you. All-natural creamy dairy goodness with a sophisticated, complex vanilla hue. Naturally endowed with crazy potassium. And you even stopped on the way to grab some vitamins A & D, just because You’re. Fucking. Awesome.
I mean, you know I’ve had other yogurts. And you’re cool with that. But it’s okay anyway baby — they meant nothing to me. Really. I never even liked any of them. You’re the one I’ve been looking for. And yeah. I just ate you, didn’t I. I fuckin’ just ate you right up and we both loved every minute of it, didn’t we. You little minx. Remember how I timidly stuck my spoon in? Then how I read on the Nutrition Facts that I could have a whole cup?
That was a good day.
Vanilla yogurt, you are what warm ivory silk-cashmere blend would taste like – if it was cold and thick and creamy and had a taste. I hope you’ll be open to a threesome – because I’m thinking you, me, and something chocolate.
With love in my heart and lust in my mouth, as usual,
Jonathan
Vanilla porn! That’s so not like you but I love it. “and something chocolate” I think that made my morning. Cuz I know what you meant. I KNOW.