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The Midweek Euphoria
Sometimes when I think about the way I met Mirabel, I want to scream and laugh so hard at the same time. Or maybe even cry as I reflect upon the pain that she caused me before accepting to be my fiancé. Mirabel was an Air hostess. You know the kind of girls that smile at you while they serve you in planes? The ones sit near the cockpit showing their legs making your cock stiff? Is that therefore, the beauty of love or lust?
Yes, she was the kind of girl that would ask you to burn your finger on a candle and you would instead decide to unquestioningly incinerate yourself like a protesting monk. She had those eyes that could pierce through your heart even into your soul bringing forth your deepest darkest desires. Mirabel was an angel. Her visage like diamonds, glittering with sheer beauty. Her smile bewitching and her soft laughs so enticing that you could end up finishing in your pants.
Truth be told, I did – more than once, finish in my pants all through the flight to Johannesburg. Her smile never left her face and her mouth never ceased to ask to cater for my every need. Maybe it was because I was flying first class, or maybe she simply was attracted to me as I was to her. the first kiss we shared, oh how beautiful. Like a soap opera scene, we kissed in the bathroom. Then had a hot blistering quickie on the sink of that very bathroom. Her hair was a beautiful mangled mess when she left for her station at the deck while straightening her tiny red skirt only to realize that she had no underwear on. I had it in my back pocket. The flimsy piece of lace smelt like heaven and even though my soul was surely damned, I still wanted a piece of this heaven – Mirabel. The starry sky in my ebony dark night. My shining moon in my bleak existence. I was in love, or lust; it did not matter to me anyway. All I knew is that I had found THE ONE and I was not letting her go. The big question coursing through my mind was, how was this story going to be narrated? How was it going to end? I feared a tragic end, more so an end without the light to my world. I loved her. “I love her!” I kept saying to myself.
As I went back to my seat flashes of scenes that I hoped we would reenact crossed my mind. The beauty of such affection, deep connection and a constant longing for each other remained etched in my thoughts. Where all that mattered in the world was just me and her. I would look in to her eyes, bore into her soul and claim it for myself. in turn, I would give her my heart, my life, my essence and my being for her and her service. I would be her Genie to fulfil her every wish and cater to her every whim. It would be poetic to give her a foot rub while she lies in the hammock heavy with our first born child. Our princess. The only pure part of my DNA which I would love and cherish till my very last breath. When all these thoughts passed and I came to, I realized that she, my Mirabel, was the girl of my dreams. The one who would truly teach me the beauty of Love.