SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21):
Now would be an excellent time to add deft new nuances to the ways you kiss, lick, hug, snuggle, caress, and fondle. Is there a worthy adventurer who will help you experiment with these activities? If not, use your pillow, your own body, a realistic life-size robot, or your imagination. This exercise will be a good warm-up for your other assignment, which is to upgrade your intimacy skills. How might you do that? Hone and refine your abilities to get close to people. Listen deeper, collaborate stronger, compromise smarter, and give more. Do you have any other ideas?
I have taken to reading his horoscope when I check mine.
I like this one, a lot. I like him, a lot.
Once upon a time a princess sat with a frozen bag of peas between her legs because, after a long hiatus and a journey through the woods where she met many witches, warlocks and wolflings (oh my) she finally made it home to the castle and got laid.
This one isn’t exactly a prince, far from it really. And that is totally fine by me. This princess prefers monsters. Usually born in the month of November, remember remember.
“…Romantic feelings for a Scorpio hands down bet it all on black and let it ride. Like any addictive drug, a Scorpio will get you somewhere over the rainbow high, and you will crash.
“The desert doesn’t get hotter and the ocean doesn’t get wetter…”
I wrote that ages ago and I wasn’t wrong.
Once upon a time when I was married, and before that and after I didn’t have even remotely enough sex. And the sex I did have was relatively disappointing. Ex hubby wasn’t overly gifted, the next one neither. The two I cheated on ex hubby with were gifted-ish, but those were short lived oasis in the desert that was my love life.
Monster posed the question as to whether or not I had experienced other lovers like him. The short answer is no. The long answer is also no.
I plan on writing an epic poem about this pie. – David Lynch, Twin Peaks
I failed to do this. I have written epic epilogues about those who came before. But I left him hanging and he had to ask me (as I was shaking so hard I could barely move from aftershocks) after sex how he was by comparison.
The answer is simply…
He is the sum of all the things I asked for. His sex drive matches mine and good god it’s good, amen.
I love the way he looks at me and I know exactly what he wants because I want it too. He plays my body like some kind of complicated instrument eliciting sounds and subsequent feelings that remind me of some kind of archaic music you can feel in your bones and your soul. I love the way he grabs and growls like he can’t help himself.
He asked me how it happened that I got laid so rarely when I do love it so, my answer remains “I don’t know”.
Personally? I don’t think I could finish a marathon so I wouldn’t ever start one, the ones that came before jogged a few blocks and suddenly found something else they had to do in a big hurry, like they left the stove on at home. Didn’t think they could compete so they dropped out, I couldn’t tell you why they started in the first place.
Maybe it’s the age old adage that all men want a nympho until they find themselves a real nympho.
Maybe there are less incubi in the world than I originally thought.
No matter, no mind. I have one now. My fuck monster. Also known playfully as my Sex Machine.
Don’t google sex machine with the safe search off, or maybe do. You’re all adults, do as you will.
I haven’t had enough coffee to process this but in the interest of sharing, here it is.
When I did the search for sex machine I was looking for lyrics not modified dental exam chairs but hey, kinda liked that one.
This immediately calls to mind that photo series/documentary of men living with those hyper realistic sex dolls as actual companions.
We can put that on the list of things that I understand but wouldn’t do.
I understand a lot.
It’s my gift from god. If I look back at my life I can clearly see I have been showered with dowries both tangible and intangible. I am blessed, I know this.
My fuck monster/sex machine went away for a few days. He needed it, we both did.
As a result, this blog post is being brought to you by me, typing feverishly upon my laptop with a frozen bag of peas in my lap…
I like our version of the princess and the peas.