Addictions: A Cup of Black Sin

I knew from the first sip that it was a wrong idea. But the bitter-sweet aroma wafting to my nose was just too hard to let pass. Never mind that it was only an instant. It was good, strong stuff, and I even doubled the dose; it's no good thin and watered down. I don't really care for the sugar or the cream; I like it better black. Black as sin; deep as night; dark as the hidden corners of the mind. Its bitterness is its allure, its full earthy smell, its siren's call.

I was doomed from the first sip, the moment the heat touched my lips, the sweetness playing with my tongue. I close my eyes to savor the sensation. One deep breath and I dive head-on, wallowing in this forbidden fruit of paradise, satiating my desires, awakening my senses, quickening my pulse. The nagging voice in my head commanding me to stop was silenced, finally giving in to the ecstasy I was clasping with both hands. That inner voice was strong, but its conviction was quelled by the luscious, thick liquid passing through my mouth, coating my throat with a warmth so exquisite, it might have been forbidden.

I realized from the first sip that I am going to suffer for this. Something that excites the senses as much as this is bound to have repercussions. And no sooner had I finished the cup of dark sin, did they come, as I knew they would. My pulse continued to race, matching the little quakes that my arms have started to exhibit. I start to make deep, controlled breaths in the hopes of regaining mastery over my trembling limbs, my palpitating heart. And all the while, I'm fighting this drowsiness that has beset me.

Such pleasures, and such troubles, my morning cup of coffee brings...