It happened during one of those hot summer days. My morning had been particularly bland, followed by an uneventful midday, and a boring afternoon.
The hope of doing something interesting kept fading away with every minute that passed by on the clock.
As despondent as I felt, I had the need to simply lie on the sofa in our room, thinking about the usual existential matters that clouded my judgement.
It was then that he came home.
Event in which I didn’t take any notice. After all, he was an expert at handling himself in silence and caution.
He devoted his first couple of minutes to take off his clothes as he paraded himself all around the living room.
From his elegant tie to the shoes that touched the ground at his feet, he was keen on leaving everything behind. For he’d only enter our bedroom after striping his shyness away, as he coated his body with all the confidence in the world.
And, boy, what a sight that was.
I bit my lip as I watched his galant self. One which lacked a shirt and trousers, as well as (most importantly) underwear.
He looked at me for a few seconds, allowing for plenty of lust to be drawn all over his face. Yet, the passion he felt showed itself, without subtlety, in every inch of his skin and body.
All he had to do next, as he winked at me with eyes full of mischief, was to smile. And, forming a sensual arch with his lips, in a brief whisper he said, “Hmm.”
I fell captive then of his indiscriminate movements and provocative actions that invited me to enjoy a night full of passion. And I ended up letting him, without further ado, to take me to bed, as easily as he had taken possession of my heart.