Sex on Fire

Sex used to be it.

On a Friday night, a Tuesday morning, a Thursday lunch--it was always the perfect time. I usually never had a shortage of boys to fill my bed. It was a good life.

But these days, it just hasn't been the same. I'm not sure what the difference is; if it's the relationship or the birth control or the stress. Maybe it's too much beer and cheese. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe I'm all sexed out.

Whatever the cause, this crisis has shaken me to my core. Being oversexed was part of my identity, thread in the fabric of my very being! I pulled out every tool in my arsenal: initiating sex more, wearing thongs (or no panties at all!) everyday, introducing phone sex and new toys. I got a wax and spent about $300 on new lingerie. I even bought some of that KY Intense (sidebar: not as good as miracle orgasm gel. Nothing seemed to make much difference. I was at the end of my rope until an idea popped into my head at the most inopportune moment. Let's do it in the bathroom.

No, not the bathroom at my apartment. The bathroom at this bar. Not just any bar. The bar we're at with our friends, family, and, yikes, your parents! The thought came into my mind so quickly that I didn't have time to think of consequences or talk myself out of it. Before I knew it, there I was in the handicap stall of the women's bathroom with my skirt bunched up around my hips. Passion, spontaneity, heavy breathing--it was all back. Every time I've fallen asleep since then, I've woken up soaked in sweat with my heart racing. It's still a good life.