No tail in sight! Stepdaughter improvises with the wooden spoon...

The onions are half cut, the water has long since boiled over. But I'm standing here in the kitchen, my hands on the stove, and my thoughts are completely elsewhere. I just wanted to cook, stepfather. But then came this tingling, this pulling deep down that just won't stop. No tail far and wide that could help me. Only the wooden spoon that lies quietly. My fingers glide over the smooth wood while the sauce simmers unattended. I slowly push it to where only you should go. The kitchenette becomes a crime scene, my moans mix with the bubbling of the water. Will I still save dinner? Or whether stepfather comes in and catches me with the wooden spoon in his hand? Here everything remains with hints and steaming pots. The full confession, the proof of how deep the spoon really goes - you can find it elsewhere!