On the Horniness of a Dilemma

Okay, I was already in a good mood this morning, and then I checked my comments to yesterday's post and found this from Gordon: Your thoughts are not only out the door but about 3 blocks away already. Gordon, my man, in a couple of short weeks of reading my blather from way over there on the other side of the pond, I do believe you've captured the essence of my warped brainscape better than most who've actually met me. Dude, that was beautiful. I'm still laughing!

"Make love in the microwave,
think of all the time you'll save."
~Carly Simon, Happy Birthday

Here's a bit of news for many of you, since I'm in the mood to freely admit to damn near anything - I'm a highly sexual creature. Truth. It's in my Scorpio nature. For a long time, I thought it was bad, shameful even, but now I celebrate it. It's fun, or at least it should be fun. If it's not - kick it up a notch. Gee, can you tell the full moon is back and sex is in the air? Or on the ground. In the trees... wherever, it's only kinky the first time.

So then, yesterday, I talked to a friend of mine (we'll call him Ken) about masturbation. (Funny, I talked to someone else about that on Sunday too! Wait. Two other people on Sunday. Hmmm.) Anyway, Ken had me roaring with laughter - so much so that I told him to turn it into a schtick and find an open mic night somewhere. Ken mentioned that his preferred personal-pleasuring lubricant is a 50/50 combo of Suave lotion and water, (pause for effect) but that it's essential that you buy the unscented lotion, as there's nothing more difficult than explaining why only your right hand smells like aloe and cucumbers... "Oh, it's not just my right hand, Honey. It's my dick too!"

Well ok. Since I'm airing everyone else's True Confessions here, I may as well air my own. What you're about to read is an edited excerpt from an email I sent to David last night:

So, so, so bad. What have you done to me? It must be your fault. If it's not, then I have no one to blame but myself - and we both know I'm much too pure to garner any blame. Ok, confession time (hangs head in shame, or maybe to cover wicked grin - you decide): Last night, with the onset of the full moon, I was faced yet another night of non-sleep. My bio-rhythms have a definite kinship with La Luna, always have. I turn a bit feral when the moon is full. I'll prowl, howl, pretty much go sleepless, and damn, if I'm not darned horny when the Big Searchlight is up there in the night sky. Yes, even more so than usual... hey now, quit giving me that look. That one. You're making me blush, that's why. Now stop it.

Well, faced with aforementioned lack of sleep for latter-ally aforementioned reasons (sorry 'bout that... it hurt my head too), I decided to try your suggested herbal remedy. Being a guy, you no doubt absorbed the fact mentioned in the previous paragraph, that the full moon makes me horny. In fact, if it weren't you I was writing to, I'd be inclined to think that "horny" might have been the only word you noticed in said paragraph.

I digress... I know... you like it when I digress, but (*shakes head cartoonishly*) we need to focus here. No, dear... not down there... here... yes, up a bit further...good. Look in my eyes. There we go. Where were we? Yes, right.

Herbal remedy. Keeping in mind (third time's the charm *wink*) that I'm horny and prowly from the full moon... I decided to go with your suggestion, take a couple of hits off the ol' peace pipe, and try to sleep. Two tiny hits... just two. That's all. I swear on it. Bad idea. Well, bad idea if I'm alone. Well, no, not even bad then, just... wasted. Do you know, and this is new to me, so I won't be surprised if you're not aware, that pot makes me horny. Not just a little squirmy and "oh how nice" horny, but, as it turns out, Horny - with two big bad horns, and steamin' nostrils, and heavy breath, and... let's just say there's a fine line between feral and bestial... I'm reasonably certain I didn't cross over. Added to the full moon effect already in progress... oy vey. If it hadn't been for worry of getting rug rash, I'd have been hauling myself across the carpet like a bad puddy-kat.

As it was, and here's where the confession probably really begins; as it was, I managed to give myself the best self-induced orgasm I've ever, bar none, ever had. And that's saying a whole helluva lot after, what... 35 years of practice. Hey I was Catholic, I started young. (*shrug*) Let's just understand here, and load a visual if you will, that I had very good reason for howling at the moon last night.

B

PS Can you believe I wrote all this to you?! I think I need to go to confession. I hope they'll still let me be a nun... wanna help me with my dirty habits?

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That's probably more than any of you wanted to know, but since when have I held back on saying stuff? Why start now? If you're going to partake of this glass door glimpse into my life, you might as well get the full view. No, no fear. I'm not going for a full Happy Hooker exposé here (although some of you would probably cheer that on). However, I do think that there's a reason three of my favorite words are lascivious, salacious, and rapacious.

Google 'em. I need to get my salaciously Scorpian Gypsy ass in the shower and get ready for work. Cold shower? Nevah! Why take the fun out of it?

Hoo-boy. G'head Barb... I dare ya to push the "publish post" button. Oh yeah?! Watch me...