The female body is fascinating. It's magical. It's horny.
When I was in my twenties, the itch to screw was just that: pure sensation-seeking. In my thirties it was chemically linked to my urge to baby-make and now in my forties it's back to HORN DOG CITY.
Cool, right? Notsomuch when you're stuck at work (looking at vaginas all day and caring for the products of *other* people's sexual escapades) and your hot husband is another state. For another week.
Help me. I feel like a teenaged boy with a boner for his Social Studies teacher.
When I was in my twenties, the itch to screw was just that: pure sensation-seeking. In my thirties it was chemically linked to my urge to baby-make and now in my forties it's back to HORN DOG CITY.
Cool, right? Notsomuch when you're stuck at work (looking at vaginas all day and caring for the products of *other* people's sexual escapades) and your hot husband is another state. For another week.
Help me. I feel like a teenaged boy with a boner for his Social Studies teacher.
