Dead Red Rose Redemption: A Messy Trip through Sexual Desire Disorder

By Rose Maru

Sexual Exploration...
Not just rediscovery, but a journey all anew, well beyond where even normal mortals fear to tread into an unusual sexual exploration phase where it seemed I was willing to 'double up to catch up' to regain and achieve my lifetime allotment of sexual exploits, romps, and whoopie.
An unusual path through uncharted waters; oddly enough comfortable confirming "There's a reason our world has fewer lesbians: it's called female fluidity." And that's not just because I can squirt with the best of them, but instead it turns out I'm willing to explore all my options available to meet my newfound sexual needs, no longer completely confined by any obvious gender bias.
A journey from practically asexual to ascending quickly upward into the heavens with my sights set upon achieving holy hell sex goddess status. All while battling menopausal challenges and mundane celibate married life, blossoming into the brilliant red, glowing Rose attempting to strip off her inhibitions (often times with her clothes) in the most unlikely circumstances.
Who knew memory loss likely associated with early-onset dementia could result in an increased sexual responsiveness in an otherwise fit and active post-menopausal body? An otherworldly vacation from my otherwise previous quarter century of self-imposed sexless marriage.
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Just how far will this double book take us on this sexual journey? Turns out from the sexless wasteland that is Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (HSDD/HSDS/Whatever nom de moment Lacking Sexual Desire moniker the latest DSM comes up with) well past normal sex into the realms of potentially the complete opposite of no sex: too much rumpy bumpy.
Covering this degree of situations, this collection of short stories, recollections, and far-too-much honesty and unbelievable non-fiction - can be broken down into some major sections:
Relationships: Bad News Bare, Best Wife Ever, Changing the Past, Cool Wife, Foot in Mouth Disease, Photo Display Disarray, Vacations are Overrated, Window of Opportunity;
Desire Disorder (Low Sexual Desire): Everything Old is New Again, HSDD Health Hazard, Oral Sextant;
Complete Lack of Sexual Desire: Ace in My Hole, Asexual Antipathy, Naked Attraction, Sexual Intimacy Resuscitation (SIR), Wrong Beginning;
Sexual Anatomy, Physiology, Menopause and Aging: Female Coital Vocalization (FCV) Response/Reflex, Memory Shits on a Sex Goddess, Pink Ribbon Brigade Strikes Back, Side-Roasted, Squirtology 102, Violating the Natural Order, Visual Incongruity;
Transitions to Normal Sexuality: 100 Condoms, Butterfly Effect, Cum Drunk - Sex Intoxication, Mystery Me, Rosie-Lou Who? My Waterloo Moments, Sex Addict, Sex Diary, Zeitgeist Anti-Rose;
Exploratory Phase - a step beyond "Normal" heteronormative sexuality: Bite Me in the Butt, Conquering Compersion, Dynamic Duo, Hallway to Hell, Tinkling Temblor, Drippy Dick Disconnect, Foreplay, Mushroom Hunter, Pleasure Principle, Taking 1-2-3 for the Team, Team Sports.
Plus there's a healthy helping of various bonus bits (some photographically illustrated), in addition to the omnipresent "Truth and Consequences" background to practically every entry (no matter how much it might pain me at times to admit just how honest some of this material truly is).
To say the least, it's a lot of information to cover. And oddly enough, not only was I the woman to do it, my post-menopausal privates (although obviously much less private than when all this started) not only rose to the occasion, but reveled in it. And I'm sure one day I'll stop walking with a bowlegged gait. (At least being a real small town cowgirl, most folks just presume I'm recently returned from going back to the farm to visit. Now if only I can remember to stop correcting them by saying, "Oh no, that's because I haven't had my knees together much lately. My folks sold the farm years ago." (You can take the HSDD out of the woman, but you can't take the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rose Maru
• Release date: Nov 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005843731

Rose Maru

Born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... no, wait, that wasn't me, but sometimes it certainly seems like it.Before getting into all the fun details, I want to clear the air of a rather large aspect of my writing because it has a huge impact on my work: I have HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome). In fact, if it weren't for my HSDS, I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't be there reading this - my previously unpublished writings were explorations into kick-starting my, ahem, 'motor.' I tried to explore anything that might cause a little tingle below, even ideas and concepts my thinking brain refused to hear. Creating an alter-ego in my stories allowed me to safely penetrate the veil of non-existence - I was forced to think about sexy thoughts and situations.I wrote for years covering a wide range of topics, my husband providing a large number of seedlings from which to grow my stories (HSDS... what do you expect? Much to my dismay, what I learned to expect was very raunchy pillow-talk. Much to his dismay, he learned to expect me to leap from bed saying, "Oh! That is so good, I've got to write it down!"). It turns out, writing romantic erotica usually wasn't doing it for me. I gave up on it for a period of time - in essence, I gave up trying to help myself, as well.Then my significant's bright idea: if it didn't help me, maybe it would help someone else. I was back to writing again, or more correctly, preparing my work for release unto an unsuspecting public (I have now officially absolved myself from any evil that befalls you after reading my books - it's all his fault). So I dredged up my folder of rough and unpolished stories - damn, I wrote this much? No wonder I wasn't having sex, I was busy writing about it. (Fib alert: so not true it's not funny. Not the 'not having sex' part, but the lack of bedroom action wasn't really due to my writing.)An odd thing happened, though, as I was rereading my material and editing it. I felt a little something that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I actually felt a little tingle from down below. That soft little call, while editing some stories, started to get a little louder - still very quiet, but it was most certainly there where it hadn't been for decades. I gave in to the siren call almost immediately - surprised the hell out of my husband (thank goodness it wasn't the UPS guy at the door during those moments). Complete, spontaneous, due-to-my-doing rumpy-bumpy. Holy humper, Batman, I'm fixed!I wish. It disappeared again, just as easily slipping back into my 'normal abnormal' routine of never thinking about it within hours. Back to editing. Being the patient sort, I allowed myself to edit a whole three paragraphs before anguish sets in, "It's not working! Ah! I'm broken forever!" Luckily, I have a never say die attitude (Fib alert: ... no, wait, this isn't my stories where I have to include a 'truth' section - let me have my freaking moment), and said, "Piss on it, I'm still going to release my work. I've come this far."And so it went - although much to my joy (and my hubby's) - every so often, I'd find myself showing such obvious responses to passages, it was apparent to even an HSDS girl - and we'd make joy (sometimes several times) to the situation. I wasn't fixed, but at least I had a crutch.Which leaves me editing my old material, exploring new, and tormenting you with it - where I hope it does you some good, too. If it can't make you happy that way, I hope it'll at least provide you a little laugh the other way - especially since I do provide a 'Truth and Consequences' side to all my stories at the end of each book where I detail the nitty-gritty and harsh reality of every piece. This allows everyone's inner voyeur to be released because my HSDS does a great job of preventing me from grasping 'TMI,' so I tend to spill my guts back there in my books.As for my bio (side note: doesn't that make it an 'auto-bio?'), I'm a cute, twenty-one year-old (Fib Alert! Oh my Lord! If you're writing fantasy-fiction, at least make it believable!) - crap, okay, fine, I'm old enough to probably be your sister - from a second marriage - so we're not blood related, which means you don't have to get all weirded out about reading sex stuff about me) - and I live in the Pacific Northwest where I am still happily married to my first husband (very funny - he edits my other fibs so I have to tell the truth, but leaves the happily married one)... at least until he reads the final published product where I changed the truth section in every book back to being brutally honest contrary to his corrections.And, yes, that is me on the cover of all my books, but I'm not spilling the beans here, you have to read the book.

Book preview

:Linear Table of Contents:

(Book Order how the Author's brain ebbs and flows... and dribbles to a stop occasionally)

- Subject Based TOC - Alphabetical TOC - Temporal TOC -

Pedals (Prologue)

Dead Red Rose Redemption (Introduction)

Window of Opportunity

Rosie-Lou Who? My Waterloo Moments

Small Loser

Bad News Bare

Words You Can't Unhear - Go to Go

Burning Bridges Faster Than They Can Be Built

Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd

Changing the Past: Never say Never

Foot in Mouth Disease

Everything Old is New Again

Opportunity Knocks

O No

HSDD Health Hazard

Sticks and Stones

Right Words, Wrong World

Cool Wife

Vacations Are Overrated

Oral Sextant

Side-Roasted

Photographic Display Disarray

Best Wife Ever

Licking April Fools

Justice Served

Nightly Newds

Heisenberg Uncertainty and Observational Collapse

Naked Attraction

Masturbictation

Violating the Natural Order

Independence Day

Squirtology 102

Division Disclaimer

Zeitgeist Anti-Rose

Hallway to Hell

Tinkling Temblor

Bite Me In the Butt

Conquering Compersion

Woman Creates Stories, Stories Create Woman

100 Condoms

Female Coital Vocalization Response

Butterfly Effect

Cum Drunk - Sex Intoxication

Sex Addict

Mystery Me

Pleasure Principle

Visual Incongruity

Slex

Dynamic Duo

Mushroom Hunter

Team Sports

Taking One... Two... Three for the Team

Drippy Dick Disconnect

Foreplay?

Fear: Return of the Creature from the Black Lagoon

Twosome

Hmmm

I Did What?

Memory Shits on a Sex Goddess

Hello HPV!

Dead Red Rose Redemption in the Flesh (Cover Discussion)

Wrong Beginning

This Is What I'm Talking About

Rage Against

Blink

Ace in My Hole

Asexual Antipathy

ACErtainly Not On My HSDD Watch

Zilch. Zero. Zip.

Sexual Intimacy Resuscitation (SIR)

Halftime

How to Lose for Winning (Pre-Conclusion)

Dead: Rose's Redemption (Boot Hill)

- - Bonus Material - -

Million Words for Rose

Pink Ribbon Brigade Strikes Back

Dead Red Rose Title Redemption

Compassion Insufficiency

Missing Action

Mystery Me... in the Rough

Sex Diary

Foursome Female Style

Proud and Odd of It

When the Tit Hits the Fan

My FCV Brings the Boys To the Yard

Sex Addict 2017

Swimming in Confusion

Original Notes Chopped from Truth of Taking 1,2,3 for the Team

Not a Pole in Sight, Take One for the Team

Break Out, Break Down, No Brakes Needed

Intromission Intimacy

One for the Money, Two for the Show, Three to get Ready

Location, Location, Location

Dementia, Memory Shit, and a Sex Goddess Walk Into a Bar

Buddy System Breaks Down: SIR

Photo Shoot Fail

Diary of a Diagnostic Disaster

(Please refer to the subjective Table of Contents (TOC) for all the other fun details and that don't miss it! About the Author info.)

- - - -

- Main Table of Contents -

- - - -

:Table of Contents:

- Table of Contents Alphabetical - Table of Contents Linear - Temporal Table of Contents -

Dead Red Rose Redemption (Introduction)

- Relationships -

Bad News Bare

Best Wife Ever

Burning Bridges Faster Than They Can Be Built

Changing the Past: Never say Never

Cool Wife

Foot in Mouth Disease

Halftime

Opportunity Knocks

Photo Display Disarray

Right Word, Wrong World

Small Loser

Sticks and Stones

This is What I'm Talking About

Vacations are Overrated

Window of Opportunity

Words You Can't Unhear: Go to Go

- Desire Disorder -

Everything Old is New Again

Fear: Return of the Creature from the Black Lagoon

Heisenberg Uncertainty and Observational Collapse

HSDD Health Hazard

Oral Sextant

Pedals (Prologue)

Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd

This Is What I'm Talking About

- ... and Back Again -

Ace in My Hole

ACErtainly Not On My HSDD Watch

Asexual Antipathy

Blink

Naked Attraction

Rage Against

Sexual Intimacy Resuscitation (SIR)

Wrong Beginning

Zilch. Zero. Zip.

- Sexual Anatomy, Physiology, Menopause and Aging... oh my! -

Dead Red Rose Redemption in the Flesh (Cover)

Female Coital Vocalization Response/Reflex

Hello HPV

I Did What?

Licking April Fools

Masturbictation

Memory Shits on a Sex Goddess

O No

Pink Ribbon Brigade Strikes Back

Side-Roasted

Squirtology 102

Violating the Natural Order

Visual Incongruity

Woman Creates Stories, Stories Create Woman

- Transitions from HSDD to... a sexual being? -

100 Condoms

Butterfly Effect

Cum Drunk - Sex Intoxication

Independence Day

Justice Served

Mystery Me

Rosie-Lou Who? My Waterloo Moments

Sex Addict

Sex Diary

Slex

Zeitgeist Anti-Rose

- With a Little Help from My Friend -

Bite Me in the Butt

Conquering Compersion

Division Disclaimer

Dynamic Duo

Hallway to Hell

Nightly Newds

Tinkling Temblor

- Exploring My Sexuality -

Drippy Dick Disconnect

Foreplay?

Hmmm

Mushroom Hunter

Pleasure Principle

Taking 1... 2... 3 for the Team

Team Sports

Twosome

How to Lose for Winning: Premature Conclusion

Conclusion (Boot Hill)

- Bonus -

Break Out, Break Down, No Brakes Needed

Compassion Insufficiency

Dead Red Rose Title Redemption

Dementia, Memory Shit, and a Sex Goddess Walk Into a Bar

Diary of a Diagnostic Disaster

Foursome Female Style

Intromission Intimacy

Location, Location, Location

Million Words for Rose

Missing Action

My FCV Brings the Boys To the Yard

Mystery Me... in the Rough

Not a Pole in Sight: Take One for the Team

One for the Money, Two for the Show, Three to get Ready

Photo Shoot Fail

Proud and Odd of It

Sex Addict 2017

Swimming In Confusion

When the Tit Hits the Fan

Truth and Consequences

- Master Index -

-Other Works (Bonus Tales)-

:Raindrops on Roses:

:Rose by Any Other Name:

- Braless is Better

:Rose Garden: My Life with HSDS:

- Introduction to HSDS

- HSDS 2014 Redoubt

- HSDS Treatment Trial

:Dozen Roses:

:Coming Up Roses:

:Rose Wood At Home:

:Wars of Roses:

:Real Randy Rose:

:Buns 'n Roses:

:Covering Rose:

- Raindrops on Roses Cover Creation

:Climbing Rose:

:Chains - Excerpt from my first full-length novel

:Dare to Bare:

- How to Contribute to Dare To Bare

- Comfort Zone

:Love All, Rose:

:Bed of Rose's:

- Introduction: HSDD, Infidelity, Menopause, and Me

- HSDD Helpful Suggestions

:Planet Janet:

:Cocktails with Rose:

:Corn Rose:

:Morning Rose:

:On the Rose Again:

:Prehistoric Rose:

:Dare to Dream:

:Tangled Rose:

:Li'l Ol' Pissant Country Rose:

:Rose Art - The Infamous Banned Book

Soul Service, Inc. (Excerpt)

:Parade of Roses (the grand master index of Rose kink)

- - - -

About Rose C. Maru

Contact Information

- - - -

Enough already! Get me to the Introduction!

- - - -

:Alphabetical Table of Contents:

(for the Anal-Retentive in All of Us: and my insanity to put this many titled pieces in one book)

- Subject Based TOC - Linear Appearance TOC - Temporal TOC -

100 Condoms

Ace in My Hole

ACErtainly Not On My HSDD Watch

Asexual Antipathy

Bad News Bare

Best Wife Ever

Bite Me in the Butt

Blink

Break Out, Break Down, No Brakes Needed

Burning Bridges Faster Than They Can Be Built

Butterfly Effect

Changing the Past: Never say Never

Compassion Insufficiency

Conclusion (Boot Hill)

Conquering Compersion

Cool Wife

Cum Drunk - Sexual Intoxication

Dead Red Rose Redemption (Introduction)

Dead Red Rose Redemption in the Flesh (Cover)

Dead Red Rose Title Redemption

Dementia, Memory Shit, and a Sex Goddess Walk Into a Bar

Diary of a Diagnostic Disaster

Division Disclaimer

Drippy Dick Disconnect

Dynamic Duo

Everything Old is New Again

Fear: Return of the Creature from the Black Lagoon

Female Coital Vocalization Response/Reflex

Foot in Mouth Disease

Foreplay?

Foursome Female Style

Halftime

Hallway to Hell

Heisenberg Uncertainty and Observational Collapse

Hello HPV

Hmmm

How to Lose for Winning: Premature Conclusion

HSDD Health Hazard

I Did What?

Independence Day

Intromission Intimacy

Justice Served

Licking April Fools

Location, Location, Location

Masturbictation

Memory Shits on a Sex Goddess

Million Words for Rose

Missing Action

Mushroom Hunter

My FCV Brings the Boys To the Yard

Mystery Me

Mystery Me... in the Rough

Naked Attraction

Nightly Newds

Not a Pole in Sight: Take One for the Team

O No

One for the Money, Two for the Show, Three to Get Ready

Opportunity Knocks

Oral Sextant

Pedals (Prologue)

Photo Display Disarray

Photo Shoot Fail

Pink Ribbon Brigade Strikes Back

Pleasure Principle

Proud and Odd of It

Rage Against

Right Word, Wrong World

Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd

Rosie-Lou Who? My Waterloo Moments

Sex Addict

Sex Addict 2017

Sex Diary

Sexual Intimacy Resuscitation (SIR)

Side-Roasted

Slex

Small Loser

Squirtology 102

Sticks and Stones

Swimming In Confusion

Taking 1... 2... 3 for the Team

Team Sports

This Is What I'm Talking About

Tinkling Temblor

Twosome

Vacations are Overrated

Violating the Natural Order

Visual Incongruity

When the Tit Hits the Fan

Window of Opportunity

Woman Creates Stories, Stories Create Woman

Words You Can't Unhear: Go to Go

Wrong Beginning

Zeitgeist Anti-Rose

Zilch. Zero. Zip.

(For all the standard items, About the Author, and whatnot, puddle your way through the main Table of Contents - otherwise it got even more confusing in here with pages of chapter titles.)

- - - -

Introduction! - Main Table of Contents -

- - - -

:Temporal Table of Contents:

New for the Roaring '20s! It's come to my attention that my stories have me spread pretty wide at times. Er, I mean on the temporal time-line of this dimensional reality some of us share. So there were some questions about oddities appearing in some tales contained in the same collection as it seemed like I'd made a little one-eighty (180° turn) in my thoughts, feelings, and disturbing dreams and, as of early 2021, Oh good lord! What the hell was that? a real, honest to goodness fantasy.*1

Title: Original Concept Date (date of conception barring any dimensional rifts)

Sex Addict 2017 2017

Roller-Skate in a Buffalo Herd 5/2018

Cool Wife 12/15/2019

Vacations are Overrated 12/20/2019

O No 12/23/2019

Squirtology 102 1/29/2020

Heisenberg Uncertainty Observational Collapse 3/14/2020

Licking April Fools 3/31/2020

Window of Opportunity 4/1/2020

Changing the Past 4/2/2020

Photographic Display Disarray 4/6/2020

Foot In Mouth Disease 4/24/2020

Burning Bridges 4/26/2020

Opportunity Knocks 4/28/2020

Everything Old is New Again 5/1/2020

Small Loser 5/10/2020

Bad News Bare 5/11/2020

Right Words, Wrong World 12/1/2020

Words You Can't Unhear 12/1/2020

Nightly Newds 12/11/2020

Best Wife Ever 12/17/2020

Side-Roasted 3/19/2021

Sticks and Stones 4/8/2021

Violating the Natural Order 5/28/2021

Justice Served 6/26/2021

Independence Day 7/4/2021

Oral Sextant 7/23/2021

Zeitgeist Anti-Rose 7/26/2021 (Diary of a Sexaholic 8/2/2021 - 10/28/2021

Dead Red Rose Redemption Introduction 7/27/2021 to October 2021

Masturbictation 8/8/2021

Hallway to Hell 8/15/2021

Tinkling Temblor 8/16/2021

Conquering Compersion 8/17/2021

How to Lose for Winning (Pre-Conclusion) 8/20/2021

100 Condoms 8/24/2021

Sex Addict 8/25/2021

Mystery Me 9/2/2021

Rosie-Lou Who? 9/7/2021

Mushroom Hunter 9/10/2021

Pleasure Principle 9/11/2021

Dynamic Duo 9/13/2021

Bite Me in the Butt 9/28/2021

Butterfly Effect 10/1/2021

Million Words for Rose 10/2/2021 (completed 11/12/2021)

Fear: Creature from the Black Lagoon 10/2/2021

Taking one, two, three for the Team 10/5/2021

Foreplay? 10/7/2021

Visual Incongruity 10/7/2021

Pink Ribbon Brigade Strikes Back 10/7/2021

Twosome 10/9/2021

Slex 10/9/2021

I Did What? 10/11/2021

Female Coital Vocalization Response 10/12/2021

Drippy Dick Disconnect 10/12/2021

Wrong Beginning 10/13/2021

Memory Shits on a Sex Goddess 10/13/2021

Cum Drunk Sex Intoxication 10/14/2021

Blink 10/18/2021

Hello HPV 10/22/2021

Zilch. Zero. Zip. 10/22/2021

Ace In My Hole 10/23/2021

Naked Attraction 10/23/2021

Asexual Antipathy 10/24/2021

This Is What I'm Talking About 10/25/2021

Hmmm 10/25/2021

Division Disclaimer 10/26/2021

Rage Against 10/27/2021

ACErtainly Not On My HSDD Watch 10/28/2021

Woman Creates Stories, Stories Create Woman 10/30/2021

Sexual Intimacy Resuscitation 11/3/2021

Halftime 11/8/2021

Compassion Insufficiency 11/8/2021

Team Sports 11/10/2021

Diagnostic Disaster 10/2021 to 1/2022

Pedals (Prologue) 1/24/2022

- -

Interesting time line:

7/20/2021 OMG: I like sex.

8/15/2021 Hey, want me to go down the hall and see if she wants to have a threesome?

9/ 2/2021 I know I want to try it the other way: MMF search (maybe sooner, I'm not sure, because soon after this, all hell breaks loose in my notes.)

10/7/2021 I'm really happy with the guy I've got, and I've got to use him every way possible, and continue to do so.

. . . So within 4 weeks of discovering sex, I'm jumping out of bed to run giggling down a hall to see if I can drag a wonderful friend of ours back to bed so she can join us?! Weeks later I know I'm pretty sure I want to see what it's like the other way, too? Exchanging the 'F' for an 'M' in MFF to MMF? Then something. And finally, I'm happily fucking the hell out of my husband multiple times each week... for no reason. Just for fun? Holy shit, talk about cramming a helluva lot into just a couple months.

Oddly enough, as of mid-October (2021) while hurriedly writing this, I'm still happy to have sex. Often. Usually with my husband. (Ha ha, just kidding! It's always been with him, and honest about that multiple times a week. Well, except for a little necessary break in there, but otherwise, Yes, as a matter of fact, I am working my way happily through my hundred condoms at a good clip, thank you very much!)

Over the past several months, we have no doubt we've done more, had more sexy fun, enjoyed more intercourse than the previous one third century combined. (And even he easily admits, college beast girl me would've never mentioned a threesome, let alone...)

(Please refer to the subjective Table of Contents (TOC) for everything else, plus anything I've managed to forget... willingly, unwillingly, or just plain ignored for my own sanity.)

- - - -

Skip footnotes to finally get to the Introduction - Main Table of Contents -

- - - -

*1 My first ever. Who the fuck invented that shit?! And after living over half-a-century without ever having one, hells-bells, what should suddenly overcome my defenseless little psyche? But a hellaciously real while I was having sex fantasy. Which means I was the first one to sign up for the Holy Hell, Rose, you need to put a date on this shit, because whatever comes after whatever the hell that was, can never be trusted again.*2 {Return}

*2 How quaint. I thought a sex fantasy was out there. Well, I guess it was until some months later when I accidentally said, Hey, you want me to go down the hall and see if she wants to have a threesome? to my naked-as-a-jaybird husband while we were 'getting busy' whilst a very pretty (single) friend was staying with us. Yes, the world changed after the summer of '21. {Return}

- - - -

Dead, Red Rose, Redemption

The gun in my hand, still hot and throbbing from my dead-aim accurate use is still practically smoking, having unloaded it's molten mayhem all around me.

A beautiful fair maiden peeks out from behind a pair of boulders to see if she'll be next. It's odd to now be holding her fate in my own hot little hands, and I smile a devilish grin at her.

Various victims of my hunger for conquering and pillaging have already fallen. She'll be another notch on my bedpost - unless her previous notch from a few weeks ago invalidates her for double immortalization on my victory tour. Grabbing a handful of her hair, I barely register I no longer hesitate or give quarter based on gender alone: just like the men before her, she will fall to my power.

-

Huh, I actually never expected to be writing this. At least not after all the other failed success stories I thought I had.

Of course, that's also why I'm shit-sure not pausing now, because I think in the past I thought I was going to write The End on my dealing with Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder... only to relapse (without ever truly being cured of that cancer-like diagnosis that was to be my life with HSDD... and without ever my feeling like I ever wanted sex).

I mean, hell, looking at it? I've lived with HSDD longer than without. The time line looks even worse if you consider only my post-puberty years.

Then again, it stands to reason, really. I mean, I can't remember shit these days, so, fuck, I'll take whatever brass-lining I can get: I forgot that I don't really like sex or sexy shit? Cool.

You wanna know who else thinks that's cool? My husband. Well, when he's not running away from me, afraid I'm looking to give him another blow job or beg him to 'Hey, wanna poke?' take a few minutes and do me.

Currently the only thing I'm mostly sure about is that I don't really like receiving oral. Sure, if it's needed to get him in me so I can actively fuck his brains out, fine. But, honestly? Much easier for me to just suck him off for a few minutes, get him completely rip-snortin', ready to roll rigid and hard - then jump on top of him. Or sit on him. Or bend over and back into him. And if menopause means I'm not wet enough? Damn if apparently I don't just whip around and get him wet again with another couple minutes of oral lovin' on his man handle. Before resuming my very necessary business of getting thoroughly done.

-

Welcome to my HSDS/HSDD Trilogy Plus One: HSDD4 Dead Red Rose Redemption.

Let's ride!

(Well... almost. But first a word from our sponsor...)

*=- Helpful Notes -=*

HSDD/HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder / Syndrome) - the old DSM name for low desire / no desire disorder, which seems to change with every issue of the Psych Bible (DSM). To have HSDD (or whatever they want to call it), one is left with a hole in the brain where 'sex' used to live: you have no desire to have sex, think sexy stuff, or have the want to want sex type feelings. For me, it also included an odd lack of TMI (Too Much Information) sense and no grasp of what might be socially inappropriate if it pertained to sex. (Funny: you can ask a woman if she's having unprotected sex, but you can't ask her if she's ever had a persistent clitoral erection / tumescence that just won't go away. Seriously. Try it at the next party you attend: Hey, did I hear Janet and her husband were trying to have a baby? observe reaction; Hey, have you ever had your clitoris so persistently engorged it was almost painful to walk? Compare and contrast.)

-

If you're wanting to follow my entire HSDD saga, feel free to peruse the entire series (HSDS: Life, Love, and the Sexless Marriage): Rose Garden, Bed of Roses, and Morning Rose.

Otherwise, onward and upward... or at least follow me down to rock bottom. Then we're bound to go up (by going down to get down, so to speak).

- - - -

Truth - Next Story - (Prologue: Pedals - if you missed it) - Table of Contents

(Yes, Truth - as in the honest story behind the story or possibly cool details I couldn't include out in the main body of the text. Or possibly boring shit, if I'm being honest. But you'll have to decide. Or not. Some readers prefer to maintain blissful ignorance (like my own denial about my body's choices about what it thinks is wet worthy.) and never read it. I feel I owe it to my readers to give everyone the option, though, to get behind the scenes for each piece. Either way, I provide links back from the Truth and Consequences section to the respective tales if you decide to go off exploring because you too believe the truth is out there.)

(Also note, Next Story will not be provided every time, only when I feel the footnotes or endnotes to any story or chapter have become excessive and I start to feel sorry for my reader. Honest, I'm not an ungrateful bitch, I know when you've been camped out in my crotch (or prose) for that long you deserve a little something... or at least a few moments of ease. Thus I'll hand you a vibrator or handy-dandy hyperlink to jump to the next section. I also provide it when the next next story may not be so obvious. Or suggest bonus material associated with the story you just read. Oh! And occasionally there's the variations on a theme or long strings of news-nuggets too small to warrant a tale all to themselves: those will get a mini-index / table of menu contents, so I provide an easy shortcut back to that point. {Not all people read my books on fancy e-readers and pads which offer to try and do this for you (like our friend, Janet, she had one that would take a regular e-book and read it to her out loud. Which always sounded super-funny. I could only imagine what my books might sound like: Oh! Oh yeah... there... uh huh... mmmMMM... yuh... yuh... unhh! Ummm! uhhhnn! Oh! - Oh! Stop! Stop! Too sensitive!)} Sorry: I was just supposed to say Next Story if not provided means, Do it your damn self, just scroll down / swipe to the next page! Huh, maybe I should've just said that?) {Return to options}

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Window of Opportunity

So he's taken to fucking me in front of the window.

The open window. Drapes, blinds... everything drawn.

Lying on my back, the bed as a platter, serving me up.

Pushing down my leg nearest the window - when he doesn't have me gaping open directly at it - and I know I'm just filleted out there. I try to claim I don't want to be, or I coyly try to resist. But not too much.

Because otherwise he'll point out I'm the one that stripped naked and splayed out in front of him, and the open window, long before he contributes to my unveiling.

I want to resist. I know it. So when he tilts my body, telling me I need to show off my tits, too: I pretend to roll back away... until the second time he rolls me over so he's behind me, helping me push my breasts out into full view. Before lifting my upper leg so I'm open. Completely. And I feel the cold sting of air movement on drenched labia. I'm soaked. And we both know it.

So I get taken from behind, lying on my side. Until I'm on my back, hips lifted, breasts jiggling back and forth with each thrust. Sunlight across everything. Through the open window.

He pulls my legs toward the edge of the bed. Just a few feet from the open window, and bends my knees up while he slides to the floor. And I scoot closer to the edge to make it easier for him.

Tongue. Fingers. Kisses on thighs. I lift my butt. Just a little. I'm not sure if I want...

This. This I want. Wonderful nipple and breast kisses and sucks and tongue play. While I'm getting digital attention below. I can't even pretend to want to pull my knees together, no matter what I'm pointing directly at the window.

Ah! Sorry! he says, somewhat in a rush, using his palm to now cover my sex with only light fingertip play on my swollen entrance below.

Why? It didn't hurt, I tell him. I didn't feel anything painful for once.

Worker next door; probably measuring the lot, he says, kissing my hideously tightening nipple, crinkled into full look at me attention getting phase.

I lift my head to look between my open knees out the window and realize just how close to all the action next door we are here on the bed. And I try to deny his continued, unfortunately detailed, description of my body's response at being seen in such a lurid pose.

Being a gentleman (as if!), he stops short of pointing out how I haven't rolled away or tried to cover myself. Because I haven't for some reason. Although I'm completely about denying my body's response to what he's saying: I claim he's the cause of it. That's it. Even the parts he's not touching, yet those parts, too, are obviously responding.

Naughty girl, and he bites the tingling, hard tip of near and distant nipple, one right after the other. And I openly admit it felt good. Because it did.

There's really no one out there, is there? I ask. Not completely sure of which answer I want, at least according to my stupid body.

He plays with the pooling slick secretions draining out of me below, massaging all the open and exposed bits before answering - including light presses further back, to emphasize just how naughty I'm possibly about to be: aimed directly at the window, taking it up the...

April Fools? he asks, because it really is. Although I know that wasn't really part of it when we started. Long before I stop myself from squirming further down into that backdoor pressure.

Where the sun don't shine. On other people.

Until it's too much for me... I close my legs and start to get up. I've finally got to the breaking point. I can't do this, because there is a huge degree of chance someone will be measuring the lot with all the recent activity and building development started in the empty field that begins just five feet from the window. Which I'm now standing in front of. Naked. Trying to find my clothes.

Well, before he pulls me back into a sitting position. Only not on the bed. I look down and see him holding my legs wide open so I can freely observe what's causing the 'full' feeling below, as he's all the way in me. Fucking me right in front of the open window. Intentionally holding my legs open for me. So I don't have to claim to be or take any part of it. Except for being actively penetrated with my knees just inches from brushing solid objects.*1 I start to complain until he thankfully starts to play with my breasts. Tight nipples tugged out toward the open lots next to us.

I don't admit this often, but I'm nervously disappointed he can't continue, having to pull out of me, being way too sensitive - in fact, barely getting a handle on things before he's cringing and avoiding getting any of it on me.

Worse: both of us heard it right before he had pulled completely free from me - Awwh. In my voice. My completely disappointed voice. Indicating a potentially first ever for me: disappointment he'd gone off. Which I'm never sorry to have it end.

I guess almost never, apparently.

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Truth - Table of Contents

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*1 If I don't call it the window frame, it's just a solid object. Right? {Return}

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Rosie-Lou Who?

My Waterloo Moments

It turns out there are apparently numerous times in life that somehow mark changes that are so drastic, it's difficult to accept how life was before... and reconcile it with 'after.'

In the past several years, I've had several. Oddly enough, none were the dreaded 'cancer' or divorce style life changes you would expect. Somehow, somewhere, all of mine seemed to be good Waterloo moments where life shall never be the same.

Lacking wisdom in such things, maybe it makes sense for me to divide this book up into those stories, tales, and events that come before and after some of these hallmark events.

Without spilling the beans or spoiling the reader's fun in discovery, I'll try to be somewhat vague:

1) Before I opened my eyes, my husband's penis buried deep in my mouth when I gasp and yank him out to concentrate on what was going on down below, opening my eyes to see a dripping wet penis freshly pulled from my throbbing pussy*1;

2) The sweaty moments when it was all fun and games before I asked my husband, Hey, you want me to go down the hall and see if she wants to have a threesome? while a long-time (single) family friend was visiting;

3) Waking up to discover, those two events completely pale in comparison to "WTF?*4 I want to have sex? - not out of guilt or his begging or any other reason than, We have a few minutes, nothing is pressing... hey, wanna romp?" and I can barely remember what it was like before I was having intercourse more days than not.

I'm pretty darn sure it was not the MMF or the MFF*3 shifts that led to my WTF moment of discovery realizing, not only do I not mind having sex, I actually want to.

At least this is how I see it at the moment. Before I'll probably forget. Again.*2

Of course, after I start reading some of the material piling up in the folders awaiting planting somewhere in this treasure trove of my life over the past several years, maybe I'll change my tune and this can become just a random, fun 'bonus bit' I can stick somewhere in the back of the book to be discovered.

But if you're reading this somewhere in the front of the book? Huh. Cool. So this was a good idea. Yea me! Wanna have sex to celebrate?

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Truth - Next Story - Table of Contents

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*1 Fuck you! That is so vague and not intended to be a, uh, hmm... er... eh, whatever. Screw you! Wait, maybe I have. No! No I haven't! Geez! I'm not a floozy! {Return}

*2 Oh, hell no, I'm not forgetting to jump my husband. I have it under good authority twelve or thirteen days of the last two weeks we've had penetrative intercourse (not counting oral sex, sexy playtime, or anything else: those 13 days included at least once daily Rosie gets fully fucked for five to sixty (! Seriously? 60?!) minutes.) Again meaning, forgetting how I thought it'd be cute to divide up the book. {Return}

*3 Oops: MMF = Male-Male-Female; MFF = Male-Female-Female in old CraigsList parlance concerning Casual Connections involving more than two sexual participants at the same time. {Return}

*4 WTF: What the fuck - for those somehow living under a rock for the past couple decades. {Return}

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Small Loser

I may have lost a lot more than a bet

Go ahead, he says, dipping his chin toward my...

What? Project? Assignment? Goal? Oh, that's hell-sure, not it. This was in no way shape or form my goal when I lost the bet.

I eye the zipper suspiciously, barely visible below the hem of the shirt. I glance outside the car windows in nervous, quick movements of my head. Moving in enough rapid motion to feel the cool tingle on a light dew of sweat already starting to form on my face. Nervous. Aware. Far too aware.

Do I have to? I ask, begging him to realize how wrong this is, even though I see my trembling fingers starting to move toward that junction between shirt and pants, because I'll have to undo the button first.

No... he says, somewhat shocking me.

My hands freeze, my shoulders slump, my pulse rate drops by a cool hundred count.

Oh my... I breathe out softly, preparing to spill my heartfelt thanks he...

... you can opt to welch on your lost bet. It wouldn't really surprise me, he decides his previous negative sentence was actually an introductory word to what unfortunately was the second part of his sentence which materialized like a bad dream in the otherwise silent car.

Why? Why do I get pigheaded and bet on things I'm sure of? Only it turns out, maybe I shouldn't have been so sure? And then agree to Whatever, sure! But how are you going to prove... which echoes in my distant memory.

Pictures, witnesses... shit, even what turns out to be something in my own freaking handwriting in some cases.

Most of the time I've learned, and I never bet squat. Unfortunately not all the time.

Which is why we're both now looking at the zipper, then at each other.

Only I mistakenly glance... outside. The car. Where's there a chance others...

My fingers gently tease the shirt up off the top of the zipper to reveal a button. One button. That's not a big deal, is it?

It's a huge deal. So I instead reach under the fold to take hold of the zipper - look again out all the windows in the car, check the mirrors, and I completely do not want to pull out into traffic on this expedition.

Click. Click. Click.

Each tiny tooth releases its hold on the appropriate matching neighbor.

How can I be so freaking deaf under most circumstances, yet those teeth click so loud that it makes my body twitch with each one?

Half-way down, I can't make it go any further. My body won't let me.

You're doing good, he says without the obvious condescending tone my brain feels should be intended.

I don't understand it. This should be no big deal. I should just rip the fucking zipper down, tear open the button, and splay it all out for anyone and everyone to see. Hell, I should do it, then honk the fucking horn just to attract some attention. I should...

But someone might see! I point out, yet again, the most obvious aspect of...

Yup. With a fucking period. Like it's a... like it's no big deal; even if someone did see.

But it'd be my fault! I'd be the one that unzipped... my eyes plead with him to see reason.

Don't forget the button. And moving aside the underwear. Remember, you agreed to take everything out... - Long fucking pause - into the open.

And I've waited too long. A car pulls up. On the far side of the rest area park, sure, but it's there just the same.

I know I said I would... but I can't. You do the rest of the zipper.

Idiot reaches down like it's no big deal and just, <zzzip!> Short and sweet. And the zipper is down. And I'm looking at underwear.

And moron is smiling, looking out the window waiting for me to do the rest. Like I could!

I make a halfhearted attempt at the button. Then look at him helplessly.

Seriously? No, you have to do something to expose it, he admonishes me.

Jerk.

I should tear off the button completely so those pants can't ever be closed and everything would just have to stay out. Gulp. Exposed.

My entire body scrunches up into a tense ball of nerves. Squishing my eyes shut for good measure as my hands hit the button - above the flaming open zipper! - and with a quick breath out, a little tug, and the edges of fabric pull away.

I retract at lightning speed back to safety, bolt upright in my seat, feet planted solidly on the floor. Oh my god! I undid the button! I did it. With the zipper wide the fuck open, I undid the button. That glowing streak of underwear completely visible in the car, in a public wayside, is my fault!

There! I shout, like if I'm forceful enough, he'll believe I fulfilled all aspects of -

The underwear? he asks.

I can't do it! I can't do it I can't do it I can't do it! A six-year-old's tantrum coming from my mouth as my hands grip the sides of the seat, completely unwilling to... to be the one to expose it!

Oh, for Pete's sake, but if I have to do it...

Fine! Yes, you!

And if the mother fucker didn't just lift his fucking ass and push everything to the fucking floor after partly reclining his seat so he could do it.

I told you, if I have to do it to complete your lost bet for you, it's going to be much wor...

Fuck! You're insane! I shout at his fucking exposed genitalia that's out in the car.

Why's it bother you so much? You're fully clothed. Here I thought it was a stupid thing to choose as my winnings - I thought you'd...

Go fucking insane? What if someone sees...

Just fucking brilliant Roseanne. Like call upon the fucking piss-in-your-Cheerios gods to actually fucking whiz a giant yellow stream into...

The fucking parking space. Right. The Fuck. Next to us.

And fucking moronic idiotic asshole sitting beside me? Frantically covers his shameful nakedness? No, of course not!

I hear the seat click back and recline a couple more notches... as he raises his fucking bare naked ass off the car seat to lift it all...

Slow motion. I swear it's all going by so slowly. Slow enough I should've got a clue, started the engine, tore out of the parking spot, and into obscurity.

Instead? Not one, but two fucking nymphets. At least they're wearing local college T-shirts. They are old enough to see shit like this.

Fuck it. Nobody is ever old enough to see shit like this. I mean, not this specific shit, because it's my fucking husband's dick they're now looking at!

How do I know they're looking at it? They laughed. And pointed.

Thank the good Lord, he will now get it. He will...

Roll. His fucking. Window down.

Part of a lost bet. Wanna help out? he breezily asks co-ed one and co-ed two.

Both who laugh even more with little shrieks and more laughter.

Crawl into a fucking. hole. That's what he should do. I know I am.

What do we need to do? fucking idiot co-ed one asks, continuing to stare at my husband's genitals.

Just lean in the car so she can get a picture of you and...

Do you want us to lift our shirts? more shrieks of laughter. You wouldn't! Would! Only if you do! Thing One and Thing Two seem to have forgotten: My fucking husband's penis and balls are like splayed right out there! Only now it's an obvious erect penis. More laughter.

My laughing, soon-to-be-ex-husband breaks into their discussion, No, you don't have to, just lean a little inside the car, so it's obvious you...

Can see your cock? Wow, it's bigger now than when we first pulled up. That's cool.

Seriously? That's cool?! You fucking are still staring at my fucking insane husband's now erect penis sitting atop a ball sack that's finally starting to tighten a little - I can only hope it's panic and not because it's getting cold being thrust way the fuck up near...

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Didn't just lift their mother fucking shirts up. Took them. the fuck. off. And I have to see two sets of college age tits dangling dangerously close to the throbbing fucking... of my husband! Like right nearly touching...

Laughter. Huge fits of laughter.

Asshole has the nerve to shove the camera closer to me.

As if! I am not getting a picture of another girl's tits for you. Especially not two sets of teen tits!

Nymphet one dangles yet closer, Are we - do we, you know, need to give him a hand job or anything?

No. Nope. Never. Not on your fucking life, I don't care he won the bet! I want to scream at these tender teen, obviously ignorant of what actually transpired, students of human nature really need to know and understand at this moment.

No... not unless she says to, but I'm pretty sure no. But, wow, thanks for the offer! Ignoramus better...

We done? You served your penance? That is so hilarious! And awesome! You are the woman! co-ed two gives me the thumbs up while finally putting her top back on - while the laughter continues. Staring at my fucking husband's exposed genitals. Still out there for them to continue looking at. Possibly laughing at.

Thank you! he says to them with a big smile, turning to me.

And he completely does not seem to hear the laughter as he says, See? Was that so bad?

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Truth - Table of Contents

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Bad News Bare*1

Size Queen Showdown

Fine: Size does matter.

But, dammit, I don't know why, because it's hell sure not for my pleasure, but, still...

Honest, I am not a size bigot. I have honestly said, and meant it, that I don't want my husband to be bigger - not in circumference, not in length. Only, somehow, I don't want any other women to know - well, what I'm happy with?

That's not how I want to say it, but that's what keeps somehow coming out how, maybe, I don't mean it. But I do mean it.

I want to tell my husband that I don't give a shit if he embarrasses the shit out of himself by, you know, letting someone else see it. I mean, I'm not concerned someone else will see it and think, Oh my god! I just have to get me some of that!

I'm worried they'll - I don't know - see him. And not know what a great guy he is or why I'd - shit. Double Shit. Why I'd be happy with that.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! My stomach is all in knots, I'm confused as hell, and I shouldn't give a shit who sees his penis. But I do. Because I think it's not that large. But it's completely large enough for me!

(Dammit! Stop singing that stupid She's too fat song!*2 This is not funny. I'm not supposed to think, do, or say anything against my wonderful husband!) And I certainly don't want to say anything, because then some moron out there is going to send me a picture of their own penis next to a two liter bottle - and I'm going to have a hard time telling which is larger.

I guess that's the reason I don't want another guy seeing it, either.

To the point where I fucking inhaled my husband, balls-deep, because he had it out in front of the window with construction workers just on the other side. And when hubby asked if I was so cool giving him a blow-job there, just up and advertising what I might be up for - for others! - and he just outright says, I can't believe you're that concerned about what I look like you're willing to suck me off, like right in front of those dudes, just so they won't see...

Muh uh!*3 I say around his penis, because there's no way in hell I'm taking it out of my mouth - I mean - Jeez! - like, he just said! Right fucking less than fifteen feet away! Practically looking right in the window!

So I grab his butt so he'll stop partially pulling it out of my mouth.

Quif gebbing bigguh!*4 I try to add, his erection now making everything more difficult to keep completely inside my oral cavity.

Yes, that's when he pointed out I'd have to make a choice... and the fucker has the nerve to contract down and surge everything tight, making me do a little gag - both from the thought, and from it hitting the back of my palate.

Jerk has me by the back of the head and hair*5, just actively fucking my face - he's never done this before - and I want to say it's gross and ask him to let go of me. Only two things are keeping me from doing it: 1) I'd have to remove his penis from my mouth to do so, which would completely show it to the dudes outside the window; 2) I'm a little thankful, because my arms were getting tired pulling his ass in, toward my face, to keep his penis as much as possible in my mouth.*10

At least he's a fucking gentleman about it (as if!) and doesn't ask or check me - I know I am. Just slathering. And wondering how long I can keep this up before - well, before he does, or I do. Oh, hell no, not me climax! Get my panties into such a drenched, fucked up, gross-gooey mess I can't handle it anymore and just say to hell with it, and let them laugh at his small penis.

Fuck! I said it! Only, double fuck - I'm almost choking on it - but not quite - I mean, I can bury it comfortably - just almost all the way, but not quite before I have to give it up or gag down a deep-throat move if even just a little; and not finish putting his balls against my lips to keep every last centimeter from being seen.

And that's the rub - no pun intended - for me, he's the perfect length. Like, balls deep, perfect, even oral sex-wise. So why my freak out if someone else sees him?

Hell, even I have to admit that in an erect state, he has a wonderful, classic circumcised penis shape with good proportions, well defined ridge, no deviations; although he is a sharply angled up at the penis-to-body attachment*6 - which is some of the challenge for me at the moment.

So much so, I'm really thankful he's helping direct it. Both by holding the back of my head, and, well, handling it. Like, completely, sort of you know, masturbating, but using my head and mouth to do it.

Unfortunately he hears me thinking it: So, it's okay for me to be touching myself?

Mayh! I say - quickly trying to re-grasp his penis, which he's popped out of my mouth to do the obscene 'popping' of it on my puckered lips. Which I'm laughing at the 'Indian' sounds, Wah wah wah wahb! and for a couple moments I forget this means everyone can see him 'beating his meat' on my open mouth.

So it's okay: because I'm actively aiming it. Which is why it's okay to touch it to urinate, to insert it into you vaginally, and, thus... he finally directs it correctly and...

I greedily, some might say 'hungrily' swallow him whole, with only minimal extraction / outward motion, mostly just keeping it all in me - because he has a couple fingers around the base helping direct it accurately down the middle of my mouth and keep me free from choking on it.

He again points out I'm doing a really good job and I might have a difficult decision to make soon.

I feel another giant glob of disgusting stuff squeeze out of me down below. Yup, these panties are a complete write-off. I'm just gonna get right up - any moment now - and change them. Maybe my pants, too.

I grab his shirt and yank down, smashing it on his disgustingly wet member: Ha! Problem solved. Go ahead! I victoriously say gasping and swallowing excess drool.

Huh, so you're going to show them my ejaculating penis? he's let go of me - and himself - and put his hands behind his head, like he's giving in, or at least assuming the 'being arrested' fingers-interlaced-behind-the-head position.

And I'm staring at his disgustingly bright, glowing red penis, out in the open - and I swear, the jerk clenches down to make just a little...

Gimme your shirt! I start pawing at it, but also punctuate the end of my sentence with the sound of his penis disappearing once again into my mouth.

Asshole has the nerve to actually squeeze down. Fuck. I can completely taste...

Oh, that is so weird.

I have to admit, it's not completely disgusting. Oh, hell-sure the idea is completely gross. Gross enough to where I can't. I'm sorry, I can't. I'm not gonna swallow. Hell, I'm not even gonna spit - I wish I could, but I can't. I want to for him, but - suddenly, the people outside aren't important. I bail.

Fine! You finish it for them! I'm leaving! and I scramble from the room.

And thank the good lord he doesn't. I'm not sure what I would've done knowing he did. And I better not hear a knock on the door with someone saying, If you were that happy with a small penis, here, try this... said with it hanging out for me.

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Truth - Next Story - Table of Contents

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*1 Bad? I can still hear the laughter from those girls in the original Small Loser story; and I know, unfortunately, later I'll completely have to admit why I'm embarrassed. For me. Because they saw him. And it'll crush him to hear directly from me when I have to say why I don't want other people to see him naked. {Return}

*2 I don't remember all the lyrics, but - stop giving my husband the evil eye! It doesn't mean he thinks or calls me fat. He doesn't. Hell, he's the one that feeds me. I'm the one that does all the negative self-image talk. But that song? It's possibly ancient. The version I've heard has record scratch sounds and everything through it with 'tinny' sound - completely out of the 1920's or 1930's. The She's Too Fat Polka? After the rude, evil main singer/chanting person finishes all the insults, a man's voice in the background says, But she's just right for me! and at one point gives the counter view of each negative, but in positive wording. Look it up. And I'll shut up and let you get back to my undoing / meltdown. {Return}

*3 Nuh uhn! - an unfortunately childish retort in the negative. Translation just in case you're not up on your Dentist-Mouth-Full-Speak. {Return}

*4 Quit getting bigger! (Huh. Weird. I never realized that sort of proves I'm completely not upset with his size... I'm doing this during edit! Like, a year after! So, um, maybe, a bit more contrite? About size.) {Return}

*5 No nasty e-mails to my husband about how this is 'wife rape' or other illegal (or unwanted! Geez I hate to admit that! It completely was not unwanted.) forcible act of aggression. Just, um, stick with me. And don't fucking check what doing that action with my hair does to me down there... it's just a fucking mess. Trust me. {Return}

*6 That body bulge and angle of his penis in that position and attachment? Like fucking 'clitoral catnip' on full insertion. In missionary position. (Fuck it all! Quit fucking making me admit if he were any bigger or bigger than average or... not his perfect small size... this would not be possible to know. Because I hate getting stabbed in the cervix, because there are some positions where we have to be careful not to hurt me, okay?! Geez! I hate proving his point for him!) {Return}

*10 And... If this footnote is still in here at time of final release, count yourself lucky, because I was severely undecided if I wanted to admit I can't count and, ahem, "3) I get off - a lot - having him with a fist full of my hair making me doing this sort of shit; some sort of messed up kink I've developed over the past couple years. So sue me - I like the feel of masculine power sometimes 'making' me do something I might not be comfortable admitting I want to do anyway." {Return}

*11 Oh, good Lord, have we come to this? Kids these days. I was just informed, I don't get it. How do you old people make a frowny face with a 9? Ahem. On real keyboards, you don't hold down the punctuation key next to the spacebar to get a 'selection box' pop up. We have all our punctuation right there, spread around the computer keyboard. Holding down the shift key, you press 9 to get ( and with shift key down you press 0 to magically make a ) appear. Also, my apologies to the classy people that said, They're ellipses not parenthesis. {Return}

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Hey, Rose? Why the footnote barrage? You never had footnotes in your earlier works.

Yes, but did you notice how many fewer parenthesis, ( and sometimes even ending ), are showing up? My nine and zero keys*11 were wearing out. Plus, concerning footnote 10 that I ignorantly opted to leave in here, I can hope people get tired of checking out the fluff and useless stuff down here and just stop looking at it. Thus I can feel I remain true to my readers; pretending I can admit things (in the footnotes), but not a soul will be the wiser. Win-win! :)

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Words You Can't Unhear

I'm going to go masturbate, she says, turning abruptly to the jaw dropping silence in her wake...

Then has the nerve to pause by the door leading out of the room to turn back to face him.

Whew, obviously she's about to yell Gotcha! - I am so going to laugh so flaming har...

Wanna watch? she says casually... offhand... gentle... but with an up-tick to the voice, like you'd offer to let someone wash the dishes for you.

Her hand slides gently, almost sensuously, down the doorjamb as she pauses, waiting for an answer.

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Truth - Table of Contents

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Burning Bridges Faster Than They Can Be Built

Aw! said with just enough tinges of sickly sweet emotion to elicit a completely involuntary smile upon my husband's face.

I can't believe it. I said the right thing at the right time! Me!

He didn't leave town (well, did, but returned early due to blowing not one... not two... but three tires on my dad's truck we'd borrowed. And in the process completely wreaking havoc on the rear of the truck because my dad apparently had bought used tires that looked good off CraigsList - without knowing they were ancient re-treads. Thus when the top layer of rubber half-peeled off, the resulting 'blender effect' upon the rear 'quarter panels' of the truck was devastating to say the least.) - but my wonderful husband had actually did something he used to do all the time, but not for years. (Of course, those with an evil bent in the crowd would ask how often I remembered to ever do something like that for him. I'm pretty sure I did. In college. Sometime way back in the previous century.) Only he had stopped doing it.*1 And I'd sort of forgotten about it. Until seeing that simple note tucked, hidden, under the napkin I'd use when he would have been gone. If he had made it out of town before running out of tires.

I don't think I ever said, That's so sweet! but I'm sure the tone in my voice said it. Like I said, he was tickled. I had acknowledged something he did special for me. (Sad to say, that's huge for me. Except for making me food, I guess I don't really say much to him in the positive department, if you ask him. So do what I do: don't ask him.)

Unfortunately, he'd left several. No, not flooding me, but I guess three different notes in various locations.

The morning after his non-departure, he found his other note where he left it - under the gallon of milk in the frig...

I thought you said you ate last night?

I did, why?

Did you see the note? It was still in the frig.

Yes, I did. What did it say?

Wait, you said you saw it, he asks for some reason confused.

Yes, I saw it, I just didn't bother to read it.

Oh. Sorry.

So much for that happy smile from yesterday's Aw. I guess I didn't get it right away, until later. I guess he tracked down a third note I didn't find and, uh, didn't bother to read it - since, obviously it was a bother. (I wish I could say, 'his words' - except they were mine. Only, I sort of didn't mean it that way. I don't think.)

He apologized for doing it, and said it wouldn't happen again.

I didn't click at the time what that meant. Or why he'd say it. Or why the temperature dropped in the house without touching the thermostat.

Amazing how quick some things can go up in smoke with the least little effort.

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Truth - Next Story - Table of Contents

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*1 Ahem. He stopped because, the evidence sort of suggests I was less than thrilled about them in the past. Possibly not asking him explicitly to stop, but maybe - well, let's make this less uncomfortable and pretend I told him outright to stop, okay? {Return}

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Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd

(apologies to Roger Miller)

You can't roller skate in a buffalo herd.

Oh, you can't roller skate in a buffalo herd...

But you can doink a dude at the Pendleton Roundup...

But you can ride a cowboy during a thunderstorm.

But you can diddle your doo in the shower

with a detachable shower head!

But you can't do 'the deed' if you don't think the thought.

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Truth - Table of Contents

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Changing the Past: Never say Never

I don't know, maybe it was that new boyfriend thing, or something.

For almost two years? New relationship oxytocin surge doesn't last that... he reasonably starts to object.

Maybe I thought it was... Maybe I thought I liked it because I didn't know any better.

... and as I hear myself say it, I don't even have time to realize all the potential implications. And all the back-peddling in the world isn't getting me back to where I was before that less-than-stunning word selection to try and answer why I supposedly used to like receiving oral sex and now can't even get myself to admit - no, that's not the right word, because it implies it actually does feel good; it doesn't. I don't like the feel of receiving oral sex. Hell, I don't truly like anything down there such that I can honestly tell him, That! Keep doing that! It feels wonderful! - or even, well, nothing truly feels good such that I'd want it to continue or seek it out or want it again.

Warm up the typing fingers, ladies, I'm about to let you send me hate mail: we came to this conversation after no less than twenty or thirty minutes of my receiving - nay, having gobs of variations of lavish oral sex - lovingly applied to my nether regions. In all shapes, paces, varieties, and without any detected inhibitions (from him) on where or what he was doing to me. And I was a slathering mess.

Yet except for squeals from extreme sensitivity - far too intense to be enjoyable - or the general 'public on any street-corner' type talk breaking the various rhythms as I notice something out the window or in the room or remember something I forgot to tell him - excluding the occasional non-stop, near hyperventilation pant during those moments of too-sensitive... there's not a word of encouragement from me. Because nothing he did or tried truly felt good. So every time he'd ask if he could do something different, my only answer was, Stop?

Before he's accused of raping me with his tongue, and what turns out to be two digits periodically - except for the times he's actually actively (finally!) penetrating me with his penis (before unfortunately returning to oral ministrations to my engorged and swollen sex) - I kept telling him he could do what he wanted. I just never could tell him any of it felt good. He should be doing it for his enjoyment and I'd let him.

Oh, sure, we unfortunately had the discussion that centered on, So, none of this feels good? Even though your body... and I feel his finger press firm onto the entrance of my other option down there, which with