I'll tell you mine.
I'm having a secret affair. Wait for it, it's actually six times an affair and I've committed monetary transaction for three already. Hubby doesn't know about it and the only disguise I could put up to cover the sweet after-glow is a daft smile about nothing and according it to the blissful looks of mums-to-be, the "usual". I had tried many times to resist but it was an absolutely futile attempt that in the end, I decided to taste the forbidden fruit to get over my angst.
It was luxuriously delicious and everything that I had imagined. Being wrapped in the warm embrace of a desirous temptation, each time with triple the passion, the fulfillment of a lust that only a long hunger can attest, is something that I reckon not only a single woman or an expectant mother could deny her inner self. I remembered that windy afternoon when I walked back home carrying my secret, melting in the lone knowledge that every person on the street will not have an idea of my latest adventure, how the gray skies were coloured the maroon of a private chamber that housed the most exotic and evocative of sense-pleasing smells, tastes, and textures.
Of course I knew and still know that it's something that is prohibited. Technically I'm doing something on the sly, away from the prying eyes of the authorities and my ever caring, watchful hawk of a hubby, that I should be focusing on getting ready to progress into the next important phase of womanhood and be all that responsible strap of a dutiful mother when her child beckons to come forth to accept the pains of labour in order to welcome life.
I'm having a secret affair. Wait for it, it's actually six times an affair and I've committed monetary transaction for three already. Hubby doesn't know about it and the only disguise I could put up to cover the sweet after-glow is a daft smile about nothing and according it to the blissful looks of mums-to-be, the "usual". I had tried many times to resist but it was an absolutely futile attempt that in the end, I decided to taste the forbidden fruit to get over my angst.
It was luxuriously delicious and everything that I had imagined. Being wrapped in the warm embrace of a desirous temptation, each time with triple the passion, the fulfillment of a lust that only a long hunger can attest, is something that I reckon not only a single woman or an expectant mother could deny her inner self. I remembered that windy afternoon when I walked back home carrying my secret, melting in the lone knowledge that every person on the street will not have an idea of my latest adventure, how the gray skies were coloured the maroon of a private chamber that housed the most exotic and evocative of sense-pleasing smells, tastes, and textures.
Of course I knew and still know that it's something that is prohibited. Technically I'm doing something on the sly, away from the prying eyes of the authorities and my ever caring, watchful hawk of a hubby, that I should be focusing on getting ready to progress into the next important phase of womanhood and be all that responsible strap of a dutiful mother when her child beckons to come forth to accept the pains of labour in order to welcome life.
Okay, one last admission - I tricked my hubby into going upstairs last night after he's cooked me his fantastic chicken herbal dinner to get a shower because I hid behind the excuse that I couldn't take the smell of "chook in his hair" - in reality, I succumbed again to meeting my temptation while I heard the shower running upstairs.
And I knew that I will need all the concentration, the centering of will and self-power. Hence I knew that it would amount to no tantamount sin that I succumb to my temptation and self-pleasure of a true serve of luscious, silky scoop of Neapolitan ice cream, made with the freshest cream, served chilled, eaten in front of the heater with my fleecy boots on and sigh the sigh of contentment.
You didn't think it was anything else did you? My, my... where have your thoughts gone?!
Here's to Week 36 baby! (Going 37 by tomorrow)
