A Taste of Salt


While preparing the vegetables for lunch it suddenly struck me that I have a prominent salty taste in my mouth. Oh my, what could have caused it? What have I eaten yesterday? This morning, our breakfast consisted only of oat flakes moisturized in warm water and a banana for each of us, along with the daily dose of supplements. Nah, this couldn’t give me a salty taste in my mouth. Impossible.

Then how comes that the yesterday food — which wasn’t salty by the way — caused my mouth feeling salty today? Oh yes, Sunday I dropped a handful more of sea salt crystals over the mixed fresh veggie plate, after dressing it with the regular extra virgin olive oil and before introducing it into the oven. But that was Sunday! 48 hours from now. And hubby even added some sea salt for taste. He said it wasn’t salty enough…

Finding no answers to my preoccupying questions, I addressed hubby. Of course that he googled for “salty mouth taste” in an instant. But, I can feel, he won’t read me everything that Google gives, because doctors and their scientific research, churned throughout the algorithms of Google, had scared me more than once. So he asked me if I’m hydrated enough, the minimum per day being two-three liters of water for each person. I said that yes, I drank enough water and tea, all these days. Don’t think this should be the case. Then he wanted to know if our morning stress on money matters had something to do with this. Don’t think so. Don’t know… See? This is how panic creeps in to shake up your sanity, when you don’t know.

Finding no explanation for my salty taste in the mouth, sensing the depressive thoughts roaming around me like hungry wolves, I nagged hubby more. And he asked me to recall, on a timeline, what have I done today, EVERYTHING. No big deal, it was about noon when he asked me this.

I slept long as he woke early and got himself to work under the ThinkPad. So we had no sex this morning. Then we had breakfast with the stressing topic of what stuff I need to buy for the kids before their school year starts next Monday. Then he moved back to his work and me to the kitchen, and upstairs with various chores. Then I came to the living, saw him sad and offered to suck his dick just a little. I do this every time I see his brow shadowed by worries (if we’re not in public, of course). It wasn’t sex because it lasted just a minute, or less, but it made him smile again, brought his mood up and enlightened his day. When he is happy so am I.

Oh yes, his dick tasted like salt. And I sucked it with hasty lust. Now I start connecting the dots…

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