Homecoming

Reliving childhood dalliances can be a confusing, yet delightful, affair.

- Carlton Cavanagh

It’s been a while since I visited my city where I spent a decade and a half of my childhood. We can be lazy sometimes, but we compensate for it with guile and there is nothing sexier than resilience knit into the fabric of a person’s gene. It is the jewel inside a constellation, the oyster’s pearl, it is where Carlton was born, and learnt what it meant to become a person that deserves what he wants, and as you very well know, all that Carlton wants is women. So, when I returned to my home this summer, I made it a point to visit old friends, and one in particular, my lovely, lovely, Sara.

I remember it was the first time I had ever smoked a cigarette. That thrilling smell of smoke and the peppermint gum she would always chew was like an aphrodisiac on crack. All that she would allow me to do was kiss her. Never more, nothing less either. No tampering around the lovely curve of her breasts, not a finger between the fast moistening patch between her legs either. Every time my hand would go astray in manifestations of passion, her left hand would smack mine without her lips releasing me from their luscious prison.