Mr. Mango, you are my very favorite… You are a tropical sky, sun on my shoulders and a bead of sweat running down my temple. Your cool skin, juicy girth and mass fills my senses with anticipation of your luscious pleasure.

You play hard to get as I carefully slice around your nut and reveal your inner fruit. I carefully peel away your firm skin, take in your fragrance and suck. I use my fingers, thumbs, and lips to devour you. Your sweet juices arouse my tongue and you slowly run down my throat. I realize I can’t contain you as you began dripping on my chin and down my chest.

You remind me of an orange but Mr. Mango, you are firmer, more topical, sweeter, refreshing.

I consider slowing down. Do I devour all of you now or save some of your salacious flavor for later? Can I restrain myself? You are warm, scrumptious and delectable. What if you were cooler? I contemplate as I swallow another bite.

I can’t stop! I’ve consumed you. There is nothing left.

Thank you, Mr. Mango, for the pleasure of your succulence. I am grateful for you. I am grateful for your taste. Grateful that I can taste. Grateful that you were created. Grateful that I can have you. Grateful for this morning and that I can contemplate you.

With love, Robbie Ann ;)