It almost goes without saying that it is best to approach a recumbent postmistress from the east, especially if it is close to the time of sunset where the glare from the setting sun could hinder her attempts to get the devices fully lubricated in time for the mid-orgy break for tea and fresh cream cakes. However, should she wish to partake of your cream, say on her baps or her buns, it seems quite likely that she will have already warmed them for your full delectation.
Now, assuming that you already have your orgy racquet at the serve position as you approach your post mistress and/or assistant librarian, then there should be not a great deal of concern about just who is to wield the sex spatulas to return that opening service of yours. Of course, this does presume that the wicket keeper is wearing the fetish mittens in readiness and that any gentlemen of a clerical persuasion have already been firmly taken in hand by any amateur campanologist in the near vicinity. After all, one would not like any reoccurrence of that incident with the priest, the altar candle and the goat, which, it is said, was what caused Henry VIII’s final break with Catholicism, as well as his lifetime aversion to goat cheese.
Anyway, providing your postmistress is well-seasoned with the salad dressing of her choice and you have some fresh pork for her delectation, possibly - by way of introduction – already placing it between her baps, then I am sure you do not need me to tell you what happens next… do you?