Making Time

So, yeah, not at work... yet. But I'm not on holiday any more. I did, however, spend a lovely weekend in Oxford, during which we had quite a lot of sex. Some of which happened in the afternoon.

Understandably I've had afternoon sex before, so this probably doesn't come as a shocking revelation to most, if not all, of you, gentle readers digesting these words. But, although it's been the case for me, until TD put her finger on it, I didn't quite clock why afternoon sex seemed like the best kind. And, as she pointed out, it seems remarkably decadent.

And it is. It's comparable, even, to sitting in a hot jacuzzi while eating Ben & Jerry's ice-cream and sherbet lemons. Combined. While watching Series 3 of Knightmare. And getting a blowjob.

I mean, you're not usually having sex in the afternoon, are you? In this workaholic society, you're probably not supposed to - from the age of four, you're usually at school, and afterwards at work, during the afternoon (although I'm with the Spanish - let's start the after-lunch siesta time, ¿si?). Even at weekends you're meant to be using the time constructively - let's write essays, people. Or go for long, rambling walks in the forest. Or watch the T4 onmibus of Glee (or is that on in the morning? Who cares, I record it automatically!), or work on your garden and/or allotment. Where's the time to have sex? Don't you do that in the evening? Or first thing in the morning?

Sex is probably the best when you're not supposed to be having it. That's the naughty aspect; the "because I can, so I will" aspect. And, as I've demonstrated above (Knightmare aside), nobody's likely to suspect you of having sex in the afternoon. Because that doesn't happen, except in porn, right?

So here's the plan. I'm going to set aside every Sunday afternoon from now on. For sex. Because that's naughty. And decadent. And lush. I mean, what else is there to do on Sunday afternoons, anyway? It's a damn sight better than finding something else to do, when the long-established pleasurable experience is there for you both to indulge in. And nobody else will know, obviously.

Long live afternoon sex. Hey, who knows, I might even put on some Knightmare while having it.

"Enter, stranger..."