Horny housewife

Walking through the hotel bar today with little Spencer, sunburned, no makeup, in shorts with a tank top, a handsome handsome daddy watched me go by. He watched me pass like he was a lion and I was a tasty zebra. Like we were cartoon characters stranded on a desert island and when he looked at me, my head turned into a giant chicken drumstick. Like it was December 24th and I was the Christmas ham. He licked his chops. I love that look. It is so animalistic. It reminds me of something that once happened with Detective Curt. It was near the end of one of our afternoon sex sessions. I was on my back and Curt was f------ me missionary style. As I’ve said, Curt was a marathon man. He’d been going all day, and now he decided it was time to come. Read More »

There are a hundred-thousand pen*ses in the naked city. And every pen*s tells a story… Valentine Dave’s penis was well-meaning. It was the kind of a penis that would prepare you a candle-lit dinner. It was sweet and unintimidating and rather small. It was the kind of a penis you could take home to your mother. Dave was tall, but naked he seemed somehow slighter and smaller. Sometimes a penis makes a man, but a penis can also unmake a man. Dave’s penis unmade him for me. Read More »

When it comes to men, I am a junk food junkie. I’ve written that married men, like in-between-meal snacks, are empty calories; they fill you up, but fail to nourish you. (Lankrypt, hysterically, commented that, like junk food, married men go right to your hips.) I think somewhere here lies the answer to that eternal question, “What is the difference between hedonism and self-nurturing?” (Okay. It is not eternal. I only asked it earlier today, but it has been on my mind a lot.) Hedonism is not eating all day, and then consuming a ding dong for dinner. Hedonism is having a relationship with your husband that does not include sex, and then sleeping with five married men in less than one year. Hedonism is a commitment to pleasure, with a simaltaneous total failure to self-nourish. Read More »

Facebook Friend asked me the other day, in an alarmingly frank conversation:

What is the difference between hedonism and self-nurturing?

Read More »

The Horny Housewife sitting at her computer, surrounded by unpacked bags, swim suits, a three-year old platered in scotch tape, a hungry St. Bernard looking at her food bowl full of ants, cats meowing, bills coming in, scotch tape everywhere, hair falling out. Ants everwhere. Read More »

So here I am, in the belly of the whale. I’ve got donkey ears and and a donkey tail. My nose is growing and my hair is thinning, but I’m finally ready to plunge into the deep, to save my son and myself and our life and our future together. It’s going to be cold and wet and I’ll be gasping for air and I’ll believe I’m going to die here at sea. Will you be my conscience, Jiminy Cricket? I’m going to need you by my side. I want to do it. I want to become a real girl. Read More »

Isn’t it interesting that impossible expectations are what I want in bed from my master, but they are also what kept me from writing for fifteen years? Is it possible that the demons in our life are our most powerful turn-ons? Blogo-friends, what is your greatest personal demon? Does it turn you on in bed? Read More »