Easy Moments

We had sweet, small, easy moments, in the early hours of the morning. Naked and having tea at the kitchen table. Our house’s windows are sufficiently high, that you can’t really see below her shoulders from the outside. I was always tired and slow to move. She was always hung over and sore. She was a burning paper airplane, destined to be ash before hitting the ground. I’d be there to help clean up.

Shower Scum

She was showering in my shower, in my bathroom. I was also in my bathroom, trying to watch, but the glass was clouded with soap scum. At that moment, I really began to regret my poor housecleaning habits. I could more or less figure out what was going on, but couldn’t quite see the details as well as I’d have liked to. Details are important. She knew she was putting on a show. It dawned on me to get a bottle of Windex and clean the shower door. Before I did that, I thought better of it and just stepped in.

Draped

There I sat, draped in her and the dim blue-green light. The light was fluid. It saturated everything it could touch, and jealously coveted everything it couldn’t. It coveted the cracks and crevices. It coveted the nooks and crannies. It coveted the spaces between us. The light soaked and languished in the spoils of its work. It was proud of everything that it illuminated and exposed, as though it had discovered these things first and brought them to our attention. In her tremendous length of thick, curly, red-brown hair, the light and I got lost. Together we shared in our good fortune.

Unexpected Good Day

The unexpected good day presents itself all of its own accord, because you never expect it. Why would you? It’s a bullet that was meant for you but missed. It’s an accidental stay of execution. The unexpected good day is the top step that was anticipated but wasn’t actually there. It leaves you stumbling in your wasted effort. It throws open the blinds and reconnects you with the world outside. The unexpected good day breaks apart your nightmare and reminds you how to smile.

The Women’s Room at the Tuscany

I’m not sure whose idea it was to fuck in the bathroom, but it wasn’t mine. I didn’t offer much objection, but I wasn’t exactly excited either. My wife and my girlfriend’s husband went in there first. They were gone for a few minutes and came back giggling. It was encouraging to see that it had gone well. It’s not an easy thing to fuck in a bathroom. I guess they had locked the men’s room door, and he had just bent her over sink and fucked her for a bit. I believe that was more or less the extent of it. Next I took my girlfriend (his wife) back. The men’s room was locked. So she quickly dragged me by the arm into the women’s room, which immediately made me uncomfortable, like I was trespassing, like I was about to do something very inappropriate somewhere that I wasn’t supposed to be in the first place. I understand that that’s the whole appeal of the thing, but it takes a lot of conscious effort for me to get past that. Anyhow, she’s a very petite little woman who was wearing a loose skirt and no panties, so we ducked into the stall and I just picked her up, held her, and we fucked standing upright. Neither one of us was drunk, but we were slightly buzzed. It was good. She was already very wet, so I slipped right in. We kissed deeply, and screwed for a bit, as best we could in our enclosed space. It must have looked hilarious from outside the stall, as I’m a full head taller than most bathroom stalls, and even in the weird sort of slouched posture in which I was standing, I could still see over the stall door. Neither one of us could cum in that uncomfortable environment. So we conceded that we’d just stop for now and finish up at home later. I pulled out and tried to manage my hard-on back into my pants, and as she straightened her skirt, the door opened. I ducked. A woman entered and started fiddling with the sink. My girlfriend lit up. She was so excited, so proud. We had a spectator! I was filled with a bizarre mixture of pride and horror, and tried not to look weird as we emerged from the stall. My girlfriend was beautiful and beaming. I didn’t look at our audience. It’s a magnificent thing when a woman is proud of you. It doesn’t matter what woman, or for what reason. It’s just incredibly validating when a woman gives you her approval like that. I tried to enjoy that esteem through the shame I felt for the judgment that I believed our audience was certainly projecting upon me. I felt guilty, like I had just done something wrong. Even though I knew that I hadn’t. I was proud that I had done it and overcome my inhibition. We returned to the table. My wife looked at me with big happy optimistic eyes, and asked how it had gone. She only wanted for my happiness. She can be wonderful that way. I appreciate that. We finished our drinks and left. When we returned to the house, we finished other things too.