Prelude To: Tarts In Bed With Ginger Fred

A cottage in the country a woven roof of thatch In the kitchen a fat lady her knickers on the latch Pulled down past her chubby thighs exposing her hot hatch Within those apple gatherers a juicy damp wet patch Wearing an undone apron with her bra unclipped to match A wooden spoon is waiting she's cooking up a batch Arthritic hands maybe a snag but not much of a catch Spoon up her hole to stir the bowl using her wide snatch Two 44dd mixing bowls a mixture of flour and ginger Sugar hurled and butter twirled with her vigorous pussy ninja Spoon dripping salted essences oozing down that wooded stirrup Ground cinnamon is added with her special golden syrup A touch of soda bicarb an egg mixed in with her minge Spoon inserted actions pussy squeezing wince and cringe Shaped and cut a ginger nut minge mixing makes you ache Ovens hot sheet trays are got greased slid inside to bake A warming up made from her cup is this a big mistake Gingers fine if dough is prime so now who's on the make Your on the rise what a surprise now you are awake Placed on the side with tarts beside I wonder what's at stake Rampant ginger smells so good some pieces fall and flake In bed with tarts a fancy start when Fred has had his cake

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