Chasing Daydreams

The Liège waffles dusted with cinnamon and drizzled honey wasn’t the only reason that Paolo’s became my favourite café. Mia contributed, all smiles and freckles on sun-kissed cheeks.She raises an eyebrow, pen poised, lid chewed. “The usual?”Bubbly, cheeky, and 90210 cute, those Mediterranean features and accent boost her allure. I pause. Not because I’m considering the answer but to lose myself a moment longer in eyes forged from the adjacent sparkling bay.The first afternoon, she’d asked what a handsome older gent was doing in town. Ha! I’m hardly old. She mouthed the word ‘sabbatical’ as I outlined our impromptu gap year so far, trying not to notice how every lithe curve hugged her U-neck top and messy denim cut-offs.I nod. “And the same kaçak iddaa for my wife, please.”Jodie beams, sitting across from me in her boho-chic flowing skirt and halter-top. Both women ooze summer; one M&S, one ASOS. We’ve explored areas of the island, together and apart, comparing notes over dinner on the villa’s patio as the sun singes sea and sky with its marmalade halo. Sunsets and sex play well together, especially with unending ocean lapping our toes. It’s a journey for us both, in a way, though I’m waiting for the right moment to bring up my prognosis.For me, every day in paradise raises deeper questions.Am I fulfilled?Have I ever been?Will I leave a legacy?Does life deliver happiness, or is contentment and familiarity its surrogate?From kaçak bahis privately vented anger and denial to acceptance, grew the realisation I need to take more risks with what time I have left. Empty my bucket list. Skydiving. Trans-Siberian Express. Moonlit skinny-dipping. Island paradise… Fuck injustice. Fuck the world. Fuck everything. Fuel the mounting desire to chase that selfish thrill and claim I’ve lived.My wife’s presence ought to temper rampant thought, but it doesn’t. As the waitress sashays away, I buzz like I’ve never known. Six weeks of flirting crash unchecked through my head. Lingering skin contact paying the coffee tab. Playful conversations. Loaded smiles over her shoulder. Cleavage flashes and coy bites illegal bahis of her lip when bending to clear tables.The undulation of her taut behind peeking from the shorts fans the flames of my recurring daydream to follow her to the kitchen when the chef’s on break. Twirl her to face me and pin her to the chiller with a kiss. Pent-up lust swirls between our tongues, hands gravitating to hips, drawing bodies together, my cock raging beneath my shorts.I chase kisses down her throat and she tosses back golden curls. I’m consumed by intoxicating hunger, the scent of her skin mingling with the sweetness of ingredients in the air.My reverie always follows the same pattern, passion spilling over, tugging stretchy top beneath braless chest, then slavishly kissing and biting the firming nipples as she stifles gasps. Sinking to my knees and tearing open the buttons of her barely-there shorts, I shower her tiny panties in kisses and insistent licks.