It looks inviting.
Clean. Fresh. Sweet.
I carefully touch it's cold and tight skin,
Lifting it slightly with a few fingers.
Feeling out, all over its ripe flesh;
Feeling out the soft and moist spots,
As gently as possible with a knowing finger.
Even just by looking, I can tell that the flesh behind the skin will be juicy.

After the briefest pause to appreciate the appetizing view,
I bring my mouth down onto it
Feeling the cold skin become
very warm against my mouth.
My mouth attaches to its skin and takes it apart with skilled suction,
(I'd hate to needlessly tear the skin to shreds with my teeth)
Immediately, my mouth is suddenly sweetly flooded with those sticky juices;
That savory flavor flowing down my face, mixed in with the taste of my own saliva.
...
I taste and drink it in. All of it.
The taste, the smell, the flavor.
I nibble away, emphatically and eagerly;
Excited by the rich and strong taste of it,
Pouring itself out to me from underneath it's skin.
I am enraptured by the entirety of it.
I wish I could eat Pears, everyday.