Sex and Spices

I had an affair, four long years of heated passion and romance. The smallest of spaces would be an ideal place for a quickie, a stolen moment of bliss. It was my moment, one that belonged to me, one that nobody could ever take away from me. “Ever had pleasurable excitement that was momentary but somehow lasted longer?” I’d asked her before we knew we’d find ourselves at the mercy of each other’s bosoms. I couldn’t understand what drove this peccadillo, her irresistible magnificence or my lust for her acquiescent thighs, I honestly couldn’t tell. She had me draped with her glory; wet and slippery; but sweet. I was blind indeed, but with raison d'être. Ours was a sin among sins but worth every panting and weeping second of it. Of course I was a bustard to many who didn’t understand my side of the story, but I wasn’t just about to give it all up for a few insipid righteous imbeciles, no way in Beelzebub’s hell was that going to happen!
Zoë had had this brilliant idea that we develop a few properties that we had and establish a chain of restaurants on the South coast. I couldn’t say no. It was to be really imprudent of me to have denied myself that opportunity, especially having had everything I needed to boot forward with her proposal. The passion was there. We both were splendid cooks and loved it. I had discovered this while we were still at varsity. She’d cook just the fun of it, in the process, teaching me. Her specialty was desert. It was a beauty creating beauty situation! Only hers; had better taste.
Zubla Café declared its doors open six months later. Settings were in most of the popular spots in the peninsula, with our favourite in Vredehoek, just off the freeway towards the city centre. We had made love there on its opening night.
Our good friend Andy, Zoë’s husband toiled introducing Zubla Café, our dream to prospective patrons and friends who had attended the opening party, following a pushover from his wife who explained how she had to quickly dash out to fetch old friends from varsity who got lost on their way from the airport. Meanwhile, the kitchen’s five hundred square metre room freezer that night officially completed the festivities as cherry on top. New and unused, still with the fresh smell of enamel, Zoë and I lustfully tumbled over each other, tearing apart whatever we could find close to us. She had on a sleek, long black gown-like dress with slips on the sides and furnished it with her loosened flip flops. Underneath it was her slim black bra with black panties enveloping her honey-brown body. She was striking, perfect in her own grandeur. Her skin had a sweet aloe smell. As she rolled on the floor with her beaded necklace rubbing against her skin as if bruising her, she maundered sweet pain “Oh…”
I couldn’t control myself, I felt dizzy with desire. All sexy thoughts ran through my head and I wondered whether such joy ever lasts. I let go of her. She lay there with her eyes closed, slightly biting her lip as if envisioning what was to follow. Her dress, just above her smooth golden brown thighs. “Come TK… I am cooling down” she said at last opening her eyes. All the while I was staring at her, wondering. Her dress leisurely went up and off her body. Our eyes locked, we kissed. I kissed the crest of her nose, her chin and nibbled on her nipples. Flashy and tender, she returned the kiss. Her taut underwear whirled down to her ankles, her knees slightly trembling. “Are you okay?” I asked. “I’m fine” she giggled.
I felt her tender touch on my skin; she wrapped her legs around my buttocks and whispered: “Take me…” The Freezer creaked, just like the condom wrapper had earlier. I was in a little heaven. The thirty minutes in there felt like eternity. Zubla Café - Vredehoek was open.

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