Sundays.

It’s a balmy day. I woke up to my husband’s arms stretched out towards me. To my surprise, my eyes widen from a blurry vision. A tray of warm flapjacks topped with bacon and a mimosa to pair with. The taste is fluffy, alongside the crust of creekside farm streaky bacon. He knows how I like my mimosa. Bubbly dashed with a gist of orange juice. The saltiness of the bacon paired with the fruity and crispy taste of this drink suggests that day drinking is the order of the day. I indulged, and we agreed on bottomless mimosas at the beachfront and a walk on the promenade. My muscles become pliable and relaxed from the heat of the shower. I had a rough week. The tenseness in my body is replaced by the warm hug of the water and my husband. Our bodies pressed together while the water saturated the space between Him and me. I could taste Prosecco’s freshness and crisp taste on his breath as our lips pressed together and the thuds of our heartbeats combined. While his brown face came up to my own, I knew my mind would not romp innocently again. Our lips engage in a passionate dialogue. You grab me and push me to the bed. Our bellies begin to slap against each other while I scream in satisfaction. Attempting to disengage, he holds my arms down while my toes curl and my legs embrace him. I’m overtaken by the warm feeling gently escaping me while my body shivers. He holds me tightly with satisfaction on his face. We roll over while the fresh breeze of the ocean slowly leaves our minds. Whilst it did sound like a good plan to leave the house today, we slapped our faces with disappointment that we gave in to this sinful act of pleasure. 

~ Shantey Moabelo