Blue Eyed Bader

I could feel the uncomfortable silence soon after my daughter left to go sleep at a friends house. Sitting in my recliner, reading a story on my nook, I glanced over at her wondering what she was thinking. "We are not going to have sex," she finally breaks the silence. "Okay," I reply as I continue reading the story. A few minutes later I look up from my screen and ask her why did she feel the need to say that right now. It has been several months since we have had sex and with the lack of sex on valentine's day the times that we used to have sex are becoming few and far between. She started to explain but I knew that her medication was already starting to kick in since I could tell her eyelids were getting heavy. "I know this may be taken the wrong way, but I am not attracted to you right now." She said, slowly. "I am not sure I understand," I said getting slightly angry. And so the conversation started. It was a conversa

I saw this on Nerve and thought it would be interesting to list this for myself... The names of course are changed, but the stories are true. Mary - She was my first girlfriend, I was 17 when I met her and had barely any experience. We were both virgins. I went down on her in her parents basement a few weeks into dating. We spent a lot of time with foreplay. We finally did the deed in her bed a few months into our relationship. Her brother walked in on us. We had a lot of sex and experimented with quite a few different situations. She was also the first person I had anal sex with. We still talk occasionally and had cyber sex a few years back. Susan - Basically a one night stand in college. I met her at a toxic waste party at a fraternity house, she was wearing a tyvek suit with  absolutely nothing on underneath. After we had sex in my loft with my roommate about five feet away, I found out she was a complete slut. She used my sheets to clean the come off her and borrowed some clot

While at breakfast yesterday I brought up how I wanted to try to make some extra money. Financially we are doing okay, but we rarely do anything fun and I would like to have some spending cash to buy the things that I want and not always what I need. So I brought up an idea of publishing some ebooks. Maybe some short stories, I already have ideas for several and a novel that I would like to write some day. I have been doing some research on how to accomplish this and have been putting some of my ideas in writing. One of the interesting facts was that Romance is the top seller on almost every ebook site. So I mentioned this to my wife. I told her about wanting to write and that the best way to make money would be romance and she laughed and said, "You would not be a very good romance writer." I just smiled back at her and thought if she only knew. Maybe I would not be the best romance writer but I would say that I have been writing erotica for a while now. It was the

Okay, so here we are the day before Valentine's Day and I am already stressing about it. I almost hate Valentine's Day as much as I hate New Years. They both represent overly hyped much too anticipated inevitably disappointing holidays. For some reason we expect so much from these days and they never deliver nearly what we desire. The stores and restaurants are always way too crowded. We pay for a meal that because of the stress of the kitchen staff is never any good. And the fact that sex seems to be expected is enough for my wife to declare before the day even starts that the day will not end with us having sex. I married my wife 13 years ago, and while we have had our ups and downs we are still in love with each other, why do I need a day to remind me to tell her that. I let her know every day. When I asked her the other day what is our plan for the day, she automatically said well we have to go out to dinner. Why is that? I would be much happier if we had the Sunday

I feel like I am forever on the verge of greatness but never actually reaching it. Its like those movies that start out with the people that are always down on their luck. Their apartment is in shambles, their job is completely mundane and their life is never moving forward. The camera focuses on the hand of the protagonist as it hangs off the bed the dog licking his fingers. As the camera pans out we see the half naked person with the tattered covers hanging mostly off their overweight frame. He is smiling dreaming of some erotic scene of a supermodel licking his fingers instead of the dog that just finished cleaning herself in the corner of the room. In walks the wife in a dirty terry cloth robe scratching the underside of her breast. She steps in a puddle left by the dog in the middle of the night and curses at the mutt. We flash to breakfast, the family is now eating around the television, arguing over who was supposed to take the dog out the night before and who's faul