Hot Cocoa

My wife and I enjoy a life filled with simple pleasures. Sharing hot cocoa in the evening can be relaxing and comforting. If you are out of cocoa, masturbation has the same effect.

Mary begins by heating milk in a stainless steel pot on top of the stove. She uses a can of evaporated milk in order to make the treat extra creamy. I take one aspirin every day to avoid clogs.

She adds Hershey’s Cocoa and sugar while stirring the milk with a wire whisk. A splash of vanilla extract poured into the mixture completes the comfort factor.

My wife pours the liquid brown treasure into two mugs and carries them to the living room. We lounge on the sofa, sipping our chocolate while watching porn. Life doesn’t get any better.

I place my mug on the glass top coffee table, and trace circles on Mary’s thigh with my left hand. I like to make rings similar to the emblem of the Olympic Games. Just as my finger is tracing the fifth ring, a huge blue fly dives straight into my cocoa. There were two mugs on the table, and why it decided to swoop into mine baffles me. The fly is the decider.

The napkin under my mug catches the drips caused by the splashdown. You would have thought that the fly would have the decency not to skinny dip in my drink.

Apparently the temperature of the mud bath was hotter than the fly expected, and the insect attempts to paddle quickly to the rim of the mug. I watch this event with vested interest while asking myself several questions. Am I prepared to do rescue breathing? What about CPR? I’m afraid it’s thumbs down for the fly.

Within a few seconds it looks like we have a floater. Mary has not noticed the drowning taking place inside my mug. Women are not as observant as men, but it’s prudent not to call their attention to this fact.

I briefly consider switching mugs with my wife, but I’m not ambidextrous. Using my finger, I scoop the dead fly out of my cocoa and squeeze it inside my napkin.

Mary has finally noticed my hand is no longer on her leg, and she questions if there is a problem with the cocoa. Marriage can be emasculating. Her piercing gaze and the tone of her query causes me to rapidly evaluate my options.

1. I can say nothing, and finish drinking my cocoa like a man.

2. I can explain about the fly, and throw the cocoa away which will somehow get twisted into a criticism of her cooking and diminish my chances of a sexual favor.

I suppose you are wondering what I did.

Remember Jonestown?

You can sample more of my writing at http://www.authornation.com/Lyam