I make love in the morning to my husband. I crave for these moments every other day. I need to hear his voice, to gaze in his eyes, to sense his palms caressing my skin and to feel him inside me. I depend on him, have to admit this, once again… Oh wait, why feel guilty about being dependent on my husband? This is what defines a happy housewife: belonging to her happy husband. Which makes him depend on me (at least) as much as I do on him. I assume that independence puts some distance between two souls, and distance acts like a watershed in a romantic relationship. The more time we spend together, the hotter our intimacy.
It isn’t only kisses and sweet juices that we exchange during our love-making, it is also words and ideas. He taught me to dare more and I taught him to consider more. He made me think like a man and I made him cerebrate like a woman. What scares me, however, is not his newly acquired sensuality, but my growing appetite for exhibitionism. Gone are the shyness and prudish thoughts of youth. Menopause and my man killed the bunny times and raised the epoch of the COUGAR in my soul. Sure, don’t freak out, I won’t run after young flesh, even if hubby jokes that he must keep himself fit to look young for me. Body and soul, I’m his with all my being and my instinct tells me that our binding was in place time before we met, or why not time before time. Okay, I should stop poking at his philosophical concepts and focus more on my hormonal challenges.
They say that menopause drives women crazy. This is correct. Only thing with me is that I’m not feeling angry, lost, desperate, vengeful, irritable or anxious. Oh yes, I was anxious, so anxious that I took a panic strike for a heart attack and made hubby drive me to the hospital. Where they recommended me for a consultation with a doc from the loony bin. Distrustful of their medical system and synthetic pills, I asked hubby what to do. He told me that IF I go there THEN they’ll make me really crazy and that my spirit will drown in the empty half of the glass. His therapy works the other way around: taking care of my menopausal body with a balanced nutrition and good supplementing, taking me to swim in the hormonal-rich full half of our common glass.
Let’s be fair, playing the cougar, spreading my legs wide in front of the camera, not wearing panties of course (while spreading, I mean), shooting erotic films and -SHOCKINGLY- posting them on my adult sites, all these are indicators that I’m not exactly a normal person. At least “normal” according to certain cultural and behavioral customs. Still I wish to convince myself that this extroverting crazy path is less “evil” than the system-obeying, mob-following, traditional descent to the ugly underworld of insanity.
Playing in our home-made erotic movies and posing nude seems to me like a more rewarding therapy than swallowing industry-labeled pills and drowning down the melancholic paths of sadness. Oh yes, à propos, I’ve watched the movie Melancholia with Kirsten Dunst — it is a paradigm for nihilism and menopausal hopelessness because if there’s no future then there’s no present and the past that was is no more either. I know that the world has been built differently. How do I know that? I have a feeling 😛 . I know things! I feel that a life is worth living when you give joy to your loved ones. And then when you generously consider sharing the giving of joy (not the act of joy, just the act of giving, or the image of the act, to be more precise).
Menopause gives you lows, terrible hot flashes and all the negative symptoms that the sellers of big pharma hurry up to scare you with. But menopause gives you highs as well (no, no, no, I’m not referring to the more and more fashionable weeds out there — not in my cards). I mean that you can reach a state of exuberance without taking any drugs (regardless if they are legal or not, they’re nonetheless drugs). Keep your body healthy, chase the stress away (this is the most insidious monster lurking like a painful odorless and dry mist around your head), exercise your spirit to strengthen your faith in God (the sense-Giver) and, last but not least, have your hubby deliver you all the love-making he can imagine. Good, now we’re back at the beginning of this article.
Tuesday morning, with Don’s manhood rhythmically moisturizing my intimacy, I had a fantasy about walking on the street like this, see picture.
It seemed so exciting to build up my orgasms around this fantasy. Bit afraid of my mind, I spoke it out to Don. He radiated of pleasure when hearing me. I wished he had admonished me, just a tad of anger. But he always encouraged the exhibitionist in me. This is what he calls a therapy. But after releasing my orgasms I wonder with that left-side brain of mine about potential dangers, about unseen traps, about the unknown. Oh wait, I can feel anxiety coming back with a vengeance. Well, reasoning over the middle field is where I spend most of my time, it is the balanced zone where I keep the distance and so I gain my mental independence. My sovereignty! It is the high plateau flanked by the chasm of fear to the left and the crests of orgasms to the right. This green and warm and sunny plateau is where I meet hubby on equal terms, where we play our marriage game of ping-pong.
Here I reproduce the story to my Tuesday photo set posted on WW.
This white jacket fits nicely with a pair of white pants. Well, I couldn’t find them. Anyway I noticed that it fits with the white transparent thong too. But how about a black and white contrast? See what I mean (pic. #6)? Shall I gather the courage to wear my white jacket in this combination on the street? What do you think?
And here the ensuing fan comment that had me write this blog.
Yes I would love to see you on the street in that white jacket! I know it’s too cold right now but maybe in the summer!
By: Doris (in reply)
This morning, with Don’s dick in me, I fantasized about that street walk and will write a blog on the matter. Just to make some time…
Thanks, love and kisses to you,
You may wonder what natural hormones (see the title) have to do with all my crazy-fixing and love-making. It has everything to do with this kind of lifestyle because healthy nutrition, balanced supplementing, exercise, and the best of all: sex!, are the primary source of natural hormones. So, my two cents, if you’re at menopause then use your hubby as your primary hormone synthesizer, in more colloquial terms: as your sex toy!