Two ears left between us, first harvest sweet, drizzled with butter. You take one, me the other, eye to eye.

You arch a brow and drag the tip between your breasts and down, dangling it just above your cuny, waiting. I mimic you and hold.

The ridges of  kernels bump across your clit, slipping between your lips, pressing at your openness. Mine is soon there, too, twitching.

Who will dare? Who will be the first? Our moan is simultaneous, long and deep.

You reach out, offering yours, as mine goes out to you.

And so we eat, eye to eye.