Monday I took the twins and joined a one-day bus trip with our church group. According to tradition, it was THE Monday when it’s good to be a pilgrim. We visited monasteries and few other churches in neighboring, not so distant, regions. It was heartening, uplifting and wonderful. Indeed a blessed and busy day.
In the couple hours of our bus drive, I was offered the following food items: candies, Haribo black licorice wheels, schnitzels, more candy, fried fish, juices aka. fluid sugars, schnitzels of another kind and… I forgot, or I wish to.
Of course, not the entire bus population was “guilty” of this eating orgy that began once the driver closed the doors and rolled on the road. But a fair chunk of those surrounding me were. Some said they “must” eat when travelling so they won’t get sick. Others had their early breakfast — it was 6am after all. And others just ate in all silence, no reason given.
You may say that it’s normal to have a snack for breakfast when taking the bus that early in the morning. Yes, this is what I first said to myself. But the day proved me wrong: after every stop and visit, when the bus set in motion, it was like magic: the riders set on eating.
I don’t want to look judgemental here, even if it seems so obvious that I’m indulging in the lowest level of gossip allowed to man and woman. I love going to the church and praising God together with these people. We’re united in faith and feelings and this goes beyond our material lifestyles, which may differ — and actually do.
But for Christ’s sake, you didn’t miss the “stop sugars” campaigns, did you? The science and studies proving how bad a poison sugar is, the growing news about the metabolic syndrome, the alarming number of kids with diabetes II and other degenerating metabolic disorders triggered by sugar consumption. Because sugar creates addiction — see this movie (again) for more details into the science of sugar.
Busy Monday came to pass with all her heavenly blessings and, after a quite mundane but none the less busy week, Saturday night we had a midnight pick up errand to the city. Only me and hubby in our red Passat. We had to pick one other kid of ours, from another bus. We parked under the linden trees shadowing the orange lights of the lamp posts. We stopped on that peaceful alley and hoped to wait only a few minutes. Initially hubby assumed that we were late, but it turned out we were amongst the first comers.
But minutes proved longer than we initially imagined. And, because imagination is only that close to fantasy, we recalled together what we keep saying to each other during sex. That we’re doing it on the beach, where we want people to pass by and notice us. That I make noises and little screams for strangers to approach and have a peep, or even a camera shot, at my open pussy being pounded by hard hubby… And all the fantastic folly that fries our brains before we eventually cum to wash our minds with fresh hormones.
A particular folly of this ilk is that I give him head in the parking lot of a mall, or in the car — depends how aroused we are when fantasizing about it. And yesterday night we parked, on a desert and silent alley in the city, by night! I was so excited (don’t ask me why) that I grabbed his crotch and bended over the wheel, unbuttoning his jeans in my quest for his fine tasteful dick. I said to myself that now is the moment, or did I? Never mind. I felt the urge of having something in my mouth and the conditions were perfect for having hubby’s dick. This was my desire!
But he turned shy: “Hey bunny, there are cameras, see there?”
“So what?” I replied, “let them watch us. Do you mind?”
“Yes,” said he, “I mind being caught in public.”
Now come on. It was about midnight, no soul nor walking shadow on the street, couple cars parked ahead of us, none behind. And yes, two stupid security cameras on the building, monitoring the opposite sidewalk.
He kissed and hugged me joyfully. He thanked me for being so openly natural and asked me not to forget about this moment, when I wanted his dick in my mouth and he reasonably stopped me short. Yes, he had reason to believe that the bus could arrive anytime (which it did in less than half an hour), that some other parents could come to park behind us (which happened couple minutes later and kept going until eventually the bus came), that we had to jump out of the car and help with luggage (him) and hug the kid (me) before giving her a ride back home.
All these reasons were the reality of that moment, as opposed to my head fantasy. He made sure to remind me that we’re not about to ditch this fantasy, that sometimes, somewhere, parking or not, he will be submissive and open himself for my unleashed desires… in public!
The morals of the Monday and Saturday stories? Being a tourist is a liberation, like you left the home and worries behind and you’re flying out, no matter how and where. This feeling of freedom must release some hormone (no idea which kind of the happy hormones family) so that your elevating spirit commands (by the means of that unnamed hormone) happiness to your body as well. And what a mindless “body” does when happy? Eat something sweet. Or suck on some stick of joy. It’s all about excitement and its consequences.
Take care with candies and cameras, they all have an underwriting…