It’s been one of ‘those’ occasions this evening.
You know the ones.
The secretive, indulgent, pleasure-filled moments.
When you get home before your other half.
And you’re going to do ‘that thing’.
Illicit thing.
That thing that you’re not supposed to do.
I’m not supposed to do.
Because if I got caught it would be very embarrassing.
But this evening, because I can, I’m going to do it anyway.
And to hell with the consequences.
I slip my trousers off, just to get comfortable.
Get in to the mood.
Excitement mounting, I’m keen to get started.
Need to be finished and cleaned up before anyone else gets home.
So excited!
Shall I do it standing up?
Or sitting down?
I get everything ready and opt to sit down.
Hands shaking.
Eight minutes later and I’m finished.
Done.
Replete.
I’d like another, but I can’t.
I’m done.
Quickly now I have to tidy up before anyone else gets home.
Just in time, I’m finished, as the front door opens.
I’ve got away with it.
Except I haven’t.
Half an hour later the accusations start.
‘There were much more Cheerios left when we went out this morning!’
I shrug.
‘And where’s all the chocolate milk gone?’
I smile, and shrug again.
Busted.
‘You’d better eat all your tea!’
🙂