Frisky Love Letter to Fried Chicken

My dear, sweet, sexy love, what I wouldn’t do for your approval. Although I know any advances I make for you would be paltry since you’re such a fine bird, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.

Take me in your embrace. Let me savor you slowly. First, I want to begin with your tender, beautiful legs. I want to caress them, truly sense and appreciate your graceful lines under my fingertips.

I want to discover everything they have to offer, from your lavish hips down to your vividly luscious thighs. Nigh shall an aperture go un-examined as I familiarize myself with your every contour.

Next, I want to address your wonderful arms. Don’t be insecure, for I know people often overlook them. But I think it a veritable truth that they add a distinct flavor to your character that can not be overlooked.

Let it be known the unbridled ecstasy that I endure at the hands of your elegant curvature. Never once before have I experienced such a fine addition to a beautiful work of art go so cruelly underestimated as your appendages.

Furthermore, if you do not mind my boldness, what can I do but exclaim emphatically for your breasts. My dear I grow ever excited at the pernicious possibility of never again embracing your fine, sensuous bosom.

My favorite of all of your parts, your bust teases me with its generous breadth and seemingly endless tenderness. What I would not give for another five minutes, nay five second, with your magnanimous teat!

But alas, I don’t expect you to be chaste and reserve yourself for a sucker such as me. I understand that many suitors lust after your visage, just as I do. Assured, as the day turns to night, that I am but one of many who do appreciate your bodice.

Rightfully so as it is, I can not help but begrudgingly endure such pain at the hands of my own jealousy. For if my own will would be done, you should be but mine alone. Separated from your obligations to others so I may enjoy you at my leisure.

However, do not let my lamenting for your alternate admirers lead you to believe I see you as a tramp! Nay, for I see your divine and epicurean nature as it truly is.

A momentous embodiment of the purity of natural order. All things in place, as they should be, and you in your rightful heirs as the eye of the earth, the undisputed champion of my heart.

Therefore, in my conclusion, I beg for you, insist for you, to be mine. There is no keeping me from you, even if I must pursue you to the ends of this bountiful Earth.

For nothing will ever satisfy me as you do. If I must wait for you, I will do so horribly and resentfully. For only in my constant and unceasing pursuit of you do I find solace in my purpose. You.

Forever yours, Wingmeister.

Genuine Love Lasts

But for not that I would part with you, reader, I understand that to love something is to let it go.

So, with great aplomb and tenuous hope, I bid you farewell! But if you want to check out the rest of my blog, go to

I would like to say thank you to Sir Richard Branson for inspiring this post with his hilarious and inspiring saucy, “An Open Love Letter to Love Field“.

I do hope that you return and continue to engage in my shenanigans. Click a link to a related post at the bottom of this page, and you’ll be whisked away to another glowingly excellent post on fried chicken.

Alas, if this be the time that you have to leave, then please consider signing up for email updates and you’ll get more great content like this to your email.

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