Oh. My. God.

So folks, I am struggling at the moment to paint an adequate picture of my weekend dalliances. My head is filled with fragments of time all rolling together then I get stuck in a moment.

Right now the kids are here. They got here early Sunday afternoon. My lovely little two bed unit instantly filled with the sounds of Scooby-Doo and squabbling. I went to have a shower last night, walked into my ensuite and stood on wet, salty, sandy jeans and t-shirts from their sand-castle building exercise. I felt a huge amount of joy watching my youngest career around the grass on his bike for the first time without training wheels. We checked out the cool toys in the garage, the two Ducattis, the jet-skis, the Porsche and a vintage Holden (my boys - sigh!). There is Sponge-Bob Monopoly layed out for hours of play on my dining table (I might add it is looking like my token - Squidward - is going to cop a beating). We had roast chicken by candle light on the balcony, drank water from wine glasses and got gelatos eating them out the front of the shop. We walked up the hill to the look-out and danced on the tables well after 'normal' bed-time in the crisp salty air and bright moonlight. I felt and feel truly present.

There are of course moments where my presence is compromised by a wistful smiling gaze into the distance. Fortunately my children just think I am mad and my husband just shakes his head.

I drove down to the beach with husband Friday night. We bought a pizza and sat looking out over the ocean. The moon sat full and low, the air still and cool. It was lovely and relaxing. We stretched out in bed and had slow, deliberate sex, taking our time. It is so nice to be removed from our usual mess and busyness for a time.

He left on Saturday morning at around 11 to collect the children and look after them for the night.

I went back to the unit to wait. I hadn't been feeling well. I had a migraine the day before. I read and slept intermittently, every noise roused me instantly. I paced. I drank copious amounts of water and had a couple of panadol. I was nervous and squeemish and excited. I salt scrubbed my freshly waxed legs which always relaxes me and then showered and bathed, brought myself to cumming twice (also relaxing) and showered again. I had a small "what the fuck am I doing" moment. I had a cigarette. I cleaned my teeth. I had a big "what the fuck am I doing" moment. I checked my phone. I cleaned my teeth again. I dressed and repositioned the pillows on the bed. At about three-thirty my phone rang. SHIT. What the fuck am I doing?


I got up Sunday morning at 7. The total silence of no-one else around was bliss. I went straight in to have a shower. I had thought about showering before I went to bed but I wanted to keep the smell and the taste of the night with me as long as I could. My muscles ached. My thighs burned. My cunt still throbbed. The warm water made all of the juicy fucking from the night before turn into a slick film on my skin. I felt it over my face and chest, my shoulders, my legs, my stomach. I reveled in it. The water ran through my hair. It is long, thick and dark brown. It takes all day to dry (best case scenario) so washing it is a task best left for mornings. I was running my fingers through pulling any stray whisps when I found a thin tendril, a curly cherry-red strand tangled in amongst my hair. My heart skipped a beat. My chest felt like it would burst. I dissolved into giggles and deep sighs. Then I leaned in against the wall and came.

The night before. Oh. My. God. She was like some sort of divine being.




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