Diary: Sunday Fun
Sunday, July 26th
Dear Diary,
Woke up to the smell of fresh coffee drifting upstairs. Hubs had already set a mug on my nightstand, black with just a splash of cream the way I like it. I found him in the living room, remote in one hand, the other resting on his thigh while the Hungarian Grand Prix flickered across the screen. The cars screamed through corners and he leaned forward whenever the camera switched to an onboard view.
My phone buzzed against the cushion. Janice. “Still thinking about yesterday. That kid couldn’t keep his eyes off us. Felt so fucking hot showing him everything.”
I grinned and typed back, “Same. He kept pretending to work but his head kept turning our way every time we moved. We should do it again next Saturday when he comes back.”
She replied almost instantly. “Agreed. Need fresh ideas though. Same old tit-flash gets boring after a while.”
“Agreed,” I wrote. “We’ll brainstorm something new. Maybe lotion again, or we could pretend we need help tying our suits back on. Or just stay topless the whole time and see how long he lasts before he has to adjust himself.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she sent, followed by a winking emoji.
I set the phone down and carried my coffee outside. The patio was already warm, but the gazebo kept the worst of the sun off. I poured myself a margarita from the pitcher I’d left in the mini-fridge, settled into the lounge chair, and let my mind wander.
Next Saturday. We could answer the door already topless, act like it was completely normal. Or we could start covered and peel the fabric away slowly while he watched. Maybe ask him to help move something heavy so our tits bounced with every step. The possibilities felt endless, each one dirtier than the last. I took another sip and smiled to myself, already counting the days.