I am an exceedingly attractive, highly educated, mega-successful bitch goddess who has been married for the past 20 years. My husband, who is>"/>
I am an exceedingly attractive, highly educated, mega-successful bitch goddess who has been married for the past 20 years. My husband, who is thought by some to be a very dear man, brings mainly his big dick to the table. That has been sufficient for me this past score of years; however, there has been a new development in our lives.
My husband has seen fit to take a midlife crisis mistress right out of a Victoria Principal movie-of-the-week, a 25-year-old makeup artist/stylist/waitress from New Zealand. Now, this wouldn't be so bad (because as you know, after 20 years everyone, and I do mean every person, is dying to have sex with somebody—anybody—else); we just keep it a secret. Unfortunately, last week I had to comfort the poor lass when she called my house and found out her new boyfriend (my husband) is married (to me).
Naturally, when I found out my better half was putting it to someone else, I decided to put him and that hammer of his to work—our sex life had been lagging. Well, we have been fucking like overstimulated gay porn stars, and as bad as I feel for the young lady, she seems to be out of the picture. But none of this simple, simple stuff is the problem.
It seems that all of a sudden, after a full 40 years of female adulthood and many pleasant experiences, my putie has closed down shop: It's over. It's not having any more of it. As though that's not troubling enough, I find now that I am growing a huge dick of my own! At first I thought it was only a perpetually stiff clit (owing to all the bone dancing I've been doing). But no, it's a cock all right. I don't know what to do. Do I coax my poor little pussy out of retirement, or do I go with something new for the new millennium? I don't know anything about the care and feeding of this thing. I am at my wit's end. Please give me some advice!
Dick or Dock
Though this is not a common occurrence, Will Self wrote about a woman who grew herself a penis—check Cock and Bull outta the library for further reference. But I'm guessing that you're talking more metaphorically. At least I hope you're speaking metaphorically.
Your husband cheated on you. Worse than that, he cheated on you in a very clich餬 tired manner. He couldn't have stepped out with a much older, monied broad with a racy name like Zelda? Or at least a B-list celebrity? What could be cooler than to be dumped for Morgan Fairchild? A little originality in our infidelity, por favor.
Here's what I don't get: Once you found out your husband was giving it to some chippie, you started fucking him night and day?! You say that like it's the normal thing to do. No wonder your genitals are rebelling! You don't really want his skanky old wandering willy anywhere near your sweet, innocent, betrayed puss. You really want to pull a Lorena on his ass, but instead you're fucking him senseless in order to prove to yourself that you're more desirable than Junior Miss. Why should he be rewarded? Quit fucking him immediately and follow my instructions, because from this day forth (until you decide otherwise), Mr. Hotpants is on punishment.
First you must scream at him. Do not let him escape your wrath by whimpering or crying or locking himself in the bathroom. Shriek until your voice gives out. Then allow him to fix you a soothing cup of tea or perhaps a cocktail. Then, while you're sipping said beverage, call all your girlfriends—while he's sitting in front of you—and tell them in detail about what a cheating scumbag Mr. Right turned out to be. Play only CDs he hates and watch Merchant & Ivory movies exclusively. If he dares to protest, say something along the lines of, "I guess you should've thought about that before you defiled our marriage by nailing that skank."
Within a few days, unless you're truly sadistic, you will probably grow weary of torturing the schmo. You should then begin to figure out whether or not you want to salvage the marriage. If you do, get thee to a couples counselor and fix things. If you don't, kick the bastard out. You've got pool boys and personal trainers to seduce—why should he be the only one living a clich鿍
You look awfully hot. Ask firstname.lastname@example.org or Dategirl, c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle WA 98104.