Woody Cavenaugh

Forgive me readers for I have sinned. It isn't often I consider confession. My wife was out of town. My buddy's wife was out of town. We were hanging out at his house having pleasant conversation when it happened. It was sudden and it was passionate, it was amazing. I don't know what I am more ashamed of, the fact that it happened or the fact that I enjoyed it so much.

He treated me to Leblon. The only way I could tell I wasn't in heaven was that the never ending parade of meat on a stick was served by men with sashes around their waist and not bare breasted women. When I was in my teens there was this girl and I remember thinking that life couldn't possibly feel any better than it did right then. That was the honest truth until I put to my lips the first intoxicating bite of sheer bliss.

I had butterflies in my stomach, my hands were trembling, my heart was pounding, I was flush, if you've ever experienced anything better than Lablon do not share it with me, that would be bragging, and extremely unkind. I don't know how long we were there, time stopped existing, an empty plate stopped existing, I was consumed by wild passionate flavors.

Even now a day after my transgression, I am flush and sweating with the memory. I can still taste the garlic on my lips.

A friend who would probably prefer to remain nameless once said that he felt like back in his dating days his dates seemed to order from the menu based entirely on what they thought he would expect from them in return. Most ordered the cheapest meal and he always wondered why. This surpassed even the surf and turf.

Sara can never know. One, she has previously forbidden me to ever go for fear that this would happen. Two...it feels too much like I had an affair. Is it possible to have a mealgasm?

If so I had multilples.