So many wonderful things have happened since the publication, almost one year ago, of Broken Hallelujah: notes from a marriage, not the least of which is the way that when one publishes a book–especially a book which deals with a somewhat taboo topic–long missed friends appear, figuratively,  out of thin air (or at least out of Facebook:)!  My friend, Jo, a vibrant (and apparently vibrating) blast from my Berkeley past, shared with me her hysterically funny take on a wife’s life, after recognizing in Lauren (BH’s protagonist) a kindred spirit.  Of course Jo, in her inimitable way, outdoes Lauren in her frustrating quest for sexual gratification and takes matters, literally, into her own hands!

Thank you, Jo (happy mother of two, miserable wife of one, lover of running, bourbon, and sex), for sharing your funny and authentic voice with this blog’s readers!


To run before or after the blast, that is the question…

I have spent the past year and a half out of love with my marriage and in love with Angelo, my purple  “pocket rocket,” as a very dear friend calls him.

Angelo is the most magnificent, vibrant color of purple, almost neon but not quite.  He has a slight curve and a little clit tickler and though he is magical, he is not a rabbit.  Angelo has four buttons, which can be daunting early on in the love bubble.  However, once all of those buttons have been pushed, it’s pure mind-blowing, thigh quivering ecstasy.  What’s more, Angelo can go on and on, no Viagra needed.  This works perfectly for me because, somehow, in my mid forties, I am insatiable.  Perhaps it is because I have been sexually dormant for years as an unhappily married woman or perhaps it is the strange concoction of hormones that rage through a woman’s body at my age? A combination of both?  This, however, is a topic for another blog…

Since Angelo came into my life, and quite frankly before he was even around, I have found myself getting my groove on and on and on and on… Why blog about it?  Well for the cathartic experience, I suppose… But let’s be honest peeps, shall we? There is no fucking way that I am the only unhappily married, stay at home (mostly) mother of two, with way too much time on her hands, who has discovered sexting, pornhub and other mobile porn sites that can whet anyone’s appetite (if they would really fess up to actually enjoying a little porn), who loves blasting herself day in and day out, sometimes three or four times a day, right??  Whew, that was descriptive, huh?

Don’t get me wrong; I have always loved sex, lots of it… and masturbation too.  But this place I am at right now in my life?  This is the apogee of fucking oneself… This love affair, not only with Angelo but also with rocking the fuck out of (or maybe into?) my own world, is consuming at times.  There are times when my pussy is just plain worn out.  Still, I think to myself, “Why haven’t I been doing this religiously for the past eight years (one has to recover from childbirth and crying babies, etc)??

Before I became an ardent sex fiend these past 18 months, I was a mostly once in a while husband-fucking tried and true runner.  I have been running marathons for the past seven years, but now, I often find  myself in a bit of a quandary… I wonder whether to run before my date with Angelo or after?  I have decided there are pros and cons to both.  While a good blast really gets those endorphins running rampant throughout the body and makes for a great run, there is also the issue of a sore pussy and sometimes ass… There, I said it… Deal with it…

Any runner will tell you that with running comes chafing… They are partners for life, they will be together longer than most marriages I know of…  It’s not enough that my right inner thigh (only the right) is chafed from my shorts but my pussy is now chafed too??   I will say that before Angelo’s namesake insisted I needed a pussy of a much younger girl, I had a little landing strip to protect my lovely hills and valleys… However, I have grown to love my bare little twat, it’s hot.  A HOT TWAT.  But with that hot twat comes a little more care than back in the days of bush and I don’t mean GW.  I haven’t tried my anti-chafing creams; I am afraid to set that hot twat into a tailspin.  What if she runs and hides and I can’t fuck myself silly every day???  So that’s when I think, run first, shower and then get at it.  Because that run will get those endorphins flowing as well, and I won’t feel the swell of a well worked over pussy during my run.  But it’s so nice to send those kids off to school and get after it while my bed is still warm.

So, what’s a woman to do?  I think Angelo and I, and sometimes Baby Angelo (a tiny blue vibrating bullet that will make you feel like you rubbed coke all over your hot twat), do the most amazing job either way.  And often times, I am a before AND after girl… I think I will keep it that way…

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