My children seem to be of the belief that at my age I really don't have any business enjoying sex! In their mind's I am beyond that and any discussion, or attempt thereat, seems to invoke in them a sense of horror.
I fervently believe that I am, despite all of this, still rather capable in the area of mature bonking. My pedigree in the field is beyond reproach, why, in my younger years I was affectionately called the Gangster of Love...Although, with the passage of time, I must admit, these days it's more of a hold up than a stick up!
Enjoined joyously by their mother soon after our marriage, I sowed sufficient seed, with such gusto and creativity, to arrive at not one, but two, conceptual moments.One of each sex , they grew all too quickly, guzzling with destructive intent, those "Mountains of the Moon" that had been the source of intense desire in my years of courting.
We, "Team Parent", gave them safe haven. We attended to their bodily discharges, provided food, shelter and education. Entertainment, designer labels and transport at all hours, followed and expanded exponentially in direct relation to the severe depletion of salary and retirement reserves... until at once it appeared that they may have left home without us knowing... for good!
The empty nest years then arrived for "Team Parent" in a way that fairy tales failed to describe. Victims of changing times we parted, as you know. I remarried, as everyone well knows, parted again and eventually, either through exhaustion or blind luck, I discovered a very "Brave Heart" with whom to cohabit and finally found true love!
New horizons, pleasant exploration and titillation of word and deed aroused slumbering carnal instincts. I use the word slumbering, quite pointedly, not asleep, not moribund or dead, simply slumbering as one does when living through periods of fallow interaction.
Joy, followed by further adjectives of great delight became part of a life rediscovered, that is until I happened to mention to the kids, innocently, a moment on a moonlit beach enhanced by the naked delight of champagne!!
AGOG and AGHAST - the new English names I have now given my children - recoiled like smitten cobra's on a Marico stoep - disgust and disbelief, gave way to hurried farewells. My intimations an affront to their sensibility!
Failure, or at least a sense thereof, overcame me momentarily. Had I perhaps failed in my explanation of the birds and the bees, when preparing them as young adults to face the charms of Sex? Was I to backward in coming forward whilst describing the sexual act, that I omitted to give them the Full Monty regarding the pleasure factors?
The joy of parenthood is tempered rather sadly by the lack of an all encompassing "How to Manual"! We fell in love - got married and created the secure family nest whilst trying to keep up with the Van der Merwe's. We even attended the whole family planning thing. Were we better equipped by this? I think not! For example, in my son's early years, circumcision was frowned upon - hence he retained his "apple ring". Medical research has subsequently proven that circumcision is preferable as it reduces the chances of contracting Aids by some 50%! How were we to know that back then?
Sanity, I am pleased to say, prevailed within my troubled soul. I realised that they are probably still too young to understand the unbridled joy that experience adds to mature lust and gentle lips.
They will find this pleasure in their own time, to enjoy without apology because I will be long gone!
So there we are Oom Schalk, there you have it, my sorry tale of parental failure. I look forward to seeing you Friday - the Marico is always particularly pleasant at this time of the year. Perhaps we could raise a glass or two, or three, of fine Klipdrif Export and share notes on this matter? I have put a new codicil in my will.... I LEAVE EVERYTHING TO VIAGRA... that will get those two snot noses rising stiffly to attention! God bless them both!
In the brotherhood of fatherhood... my best wishes.
Dear Readers - I welcome your comments. Spyker