And the buck stops here….

Alright, after some soul-searching, I decided to release the Sex and the Angel Mommy series as a book. A paid book. I figured if you really want to know how I’m doing, you’ll pay for it. Think of me as your personal prostitute.

This decision was based on a few of things. One, I got a little uncomfortable seeing the number of blog subscriptions within the past two weeks and I’m sure that has nothing to do with me being a writer and being totally awesome. And even the blog hits today also had nothing to do with a sneak peek. When you have 500+ hits but only one comment, that tells me there are people out there more interested in watching the train wreck than offering support.

Secondly, this decision was also brought on by the fact I was uncomfortable last night seeing people I don’t even talk to (or like for that matter) re-subscribing to the blog and yet, not one word of support was offered from them. Geez, thanks. I hate to disappoint you but there’s no train wreck here. Nor will there ever be one.

Third, I’m not an expert. What happened was awful and I wish it didn’t occur. Still, I don’t want anyone to look at what I’m going through and see what I’m doing is a means of normal. What works for me, may not work for you. There are different ways of handling grief. I just happened to be in the public eye.

Ugh.boo.hiss.

Unfortunately, the recluse in me came back out so no more talk of my pregnancy, my son, or anything remotely personal will be mentioned for now on.What that means for the Sex and the Married Woman series is to be determined. I apologize for the inconvenience but the less you know about Vera, the person, the happier I’ll be. And you all want a happy Vera.

And there you have it,

-V.

Sex and the Pregnant Diva: Why Do I Have Fire Crotch?

The interesting thing about being pregnant is that no one ever tells you all of the symptoms you’re going to experience. You see, in the first trimester, it was mainly morning sickness and trying to keep food down. It was also about adjusting to being pregnant even though you have so much bloat, you can rival a fat chick at the buffet table.

No one ever tells you about the more bullshit you’re going to experience during your second trimester. All the pain and just gross uncomfortable feelings all the damn time you’re going to have to grin and bear it. Lovely. Don’t you wish you were pregnant? Geez, I’m so looking forward to the loveliness in the third trimester.

Recently, I had the pleasure of experiencing round ligament pain. For those who don’t know (or can’t remember) what that is, it’s pretty much when a woman’s uterus stretches to accommodate a growing fetus. The uterus is normally small, no bigger than a few fingers and it stretches to accommodate a watermelon. The pain, as I have learned, isn’t just centralized in my lower abdominal area; it spreads to my crotch.

Now I have to explain something. The crotch pain isn’t like when you pulled a muscle or even having too much sex. And despite the above picture, it’s not a burning sensation (that would be a sexy STI).  The crotch pain is inside and there’s no relief for it. No Tylenol, no amount of stretching, no praying to God-Buddha-Mohammad-Allah-Name-Your-Deity-Here will help you. You have to deal with it and what’s even more lovely? It occurs at any time of day and if you’re real lucky, it also occurs at night when you’re trying to sleep. Fun.

I don’t need to tell you whenever the fire crotch occurs, me and the Mr. aren’t even trying to have sex. In fact, sex would be the very least thing on my mind. Even though, it does make for a good cheesy porn line. (“Hey honey, do you mind putting my fire out with your big hose?”)

So far my fire crotch hasn’t been too bad but I’ll be lying if I said it didn’t affect me. It’s a little uncomfortable to walk at times and I’ve gotten used to sleeping with a pillow between my legs. I’m doing a lot more walking and I hope to start yoga again in a few weeks. Other than that, my pregnancy is progressing. My PYT (I’m a huge MJ fan so I’m sure you can figure out why I call the kid that) is doing somersaults and I can actually see it when he/she moves. Now that’s a feeling I don’t mind having.

And there you have it,

-V.

Sex and the Pregnant Diva: Houston, We Have Lift-Off!

Vera, you won’t believe how awesome your orgasms will be once you’re pregnant. You’d wish you got pregnant sooner.

A lot of my pregnant and momma friends keep telling me how great pregnant sex is. That my orgasm would be off the chain good and I would be wishing I got pregnant sooner. Well, after the Disaster otherwise known as WTF? (See “Sex and the Pregnant Diva: My Stomach Keeps Getting In the Way of my Freaky” for a refresher), I was more than a little skeptical. Now I have to explain something. I’m not by any means a petite woman. I’m considered to be full-figured with a dress size 14. Pre-pregnancy, I had a little pooch. But my pooch was sexy.

Now the one thing I’m glad about being pregnant is that my pooch morphed into a hard egg.  It’s kinda sexy. I’m not ignorant and thinking I’m still going to have this sexy egg after I give birth so I need to enjoy it for the next few months.  No matter how sexy my little-big egg is, it does make for interesting sexy times. How am I supposed to have sex again?

I have never been this, well, big. When I’ve gained weight in the past, it was usually even all over. Now my weight gain is all in one place. I can’t really sleep too comfortable at night anymore and simple tasks like putting on underwear and tying my shoes are taking me a minimum of five minutes (no exaggeration).  If I’m getting winded doing small things, how in the blue hell am I supposed to survive a sex session? Hmm….how can we do this so we’re both comfortable?

So I took my girlfriend’s advice and looked up pregnancy sex positions and found a few to try out. Some of them were the same as we’ve done pre-pregnancy like the standard (and oh-so boring) missionary, but some were variations of doggystyle and cowgirl. After some practice and a little position manipulation, we found some success. Now to mention, my orgasm was off the fucking chain, kinda like those KY Jelly commercials.

I only hope this trend continues…

And there you have it,

-V.

Sex and the Pregnant Diva: So When Am I Supposed to Feel Sexy?

My body is currently undergoing a freak science experiment. I’m losing weight but I’m still expanding. Ever heard of a pregnant woman actually lose weight throughout her pregnancy? You’re about to meet one.

Let me clarify: I’m not on a diet and for the most part, my morning sickness was not too bad. However, my eating habits have drastically changed. I can’t really enjoy too much junk food, which is a good thing in some aspects and a bad thing in others. For example, I still love and crave my nacho fries (melted cheese on French fries) but I can’t enjoy a McDonald’s apple pie (which I think is one of the best inventions ever). Soft and liquid foods is pretty much all I’m consuming nowadays, not to mention so much fruit and water, you’d think I was growing a garden inside me.

I’m slowly starting to embrace the new Vera, egg-shaped and all (I apologize for the term ‘egg-shaped’ but that’s the best way I can describe what my body looks like. It’s normally hourglass-shaped and all of a sudden, someone slapped an egg on it. It’s very interesting to look at). I’m very lucky to have Maks pretty much tell me every day how sexy I am, how beautiful, and all that. It does boost a girl’s confidence when she feels like a beached whale.

But when am I supposed to feel sexy? When is that feeling supposed to kick in?

You see, society has really fucked up people’s thinking about pregnancy. Every woman wants to be pregnant. Every woman is excited and thrilled to be a mother. Pregnancy is wonderful from the time you discover it until the baby arrives. Pregnancy, according to mainstream society, is this marvelous and glorious event. No, giving birth to a child is a marvelous and glorious event and even then, I’m sure someone who has gone through natural birth will beg to differ. Pregnancy, at least for mine, really fucking sucks.

First, you’re always tired. You can sleep 10 hours and still be completely exhausted by 8:30 the next morning. If your usual bedtime is 9 PM, it is a damn guarantee you’re in bed by 7:30. Second, your digestive system is out of whack. You’re not sure if you’re nauseated or hungry or if you’re real lucky, both. Third, if you just lost weight, too damn bad because you’re about to put those bitches back on. And mind you, this is only the first trimester. I still have joys of fun waiting for me in the second and third trimesters.

And let’s not forget about sex. Actually, no, wait….let’s forget about sex. Let’s forget that shit ever occurred because the last thing you want is having a dick anywhere near your body.

So how is pregnancy so marvelous and glorious again? Oh yeah, I’m carrying a life inside me. That small yet wonderful part that makes this all worth it.

Bitching and moaning aside, my pregnant and momma girlfriends are telling me it’s going to get better soon and I’m just going through a bit of a rough patch. I’m just anxiously waiting for the day where I’ll look like something to be proud of instead of looking like ugh.boo.hiss. I hope that day comes soon. At least the good news from my body changing is that my breasts are looking absolutely fabulous! I can get used to these milk jugs!

And there you have it,

-V.

Sex and the Married Woman: Sex? What’s That?

For the past month or so, I’ve been pretty sick. It’s been pretty obvious on here and on my Facebook page where I’ve been inconspicuously quiet. What’s wrong with Vera? Stomach problems galores. Found out through a series of testing, I also have a bladder infection, otherwise known as an UTI (urinary tract infection). That sounds delicious, doesn’t it? Every meal is accompanied with a nice wine glass filled with cranberry juice. Since I’m anti-prescription drugs, I like to take care of myself naturally. Easier that way.

Of course, it’s easier at times. At times I wonder why I don’t just get all Rush Limbaugh and be doped up as much as I can while still spew out bullshit. As you can tell, I’m feeling better.

He's one of two men on Earth that will make me close my legs permanently. The other is Glenn Beck.

But this wouldn’t be Sex and the Married Woman if my illness didn’t affect our sex life. Well, it didn’t but it didn’t. Obviously, intercourse is out of the picture until my stomach settles. But man, my husband has been in blow job and hand job heaven. He’s lucky he married someone who has a strong oral fixation.

Wow...that's pretty hot!

Now you’re probably wondering why would I still entertain the idea of any sexual play if I’m not feeling well? The answer is pretty simple. I’m feeling ill enough to not participate in strenuous activity but if I’m sitting down and using my husband as a makeshift Shake Weight, then it’s all good. A while ago, we bought a book on different types of hand jobs so it’s a win-win: I get to experiment on him while he gets to have his bald man cry (that was a Game of Thrones reference, btw…)

I wonder if that particular line helped him win the Emmy...

Now I have to put it out there: I’m the exception, not the norm. I’m not encouraging any woman to suck off their husband if they feel like they’re about vomit.  On the same tip, it wouldn’t hurt to show your man he still got it going on even though it’ll be a long time before he visits the Holy of Holies. He’ll appreciate it.

And there you have it,

-V.

 

Sex and the Married Woman: How Do Parents Have Sex?

I don’t trust people who don’t have kids or pets. They’re just weird. – Poster on a message board.

****

One thing that never ceases to amaze me is hearing my married friends still get it on when they have kids. Okay, not actually hearing them but hearing their stories. You have to make sex with a priority, Vera, they always tell me, Or you’ll never get laid. Being married does put sex on an interesting priority level. You go from ‘Hey honey, let’s do it!’ to ‘Hey, honey…wanna do it?’ to ‘Hey honey, do we have time to do it?’ to ‘Hey honey, when’s the last time we’ve done it?’

Recently, Mr. K. and I adopted a young tabby kitten, Sushi (I tend to name my pets after favorite foods). When we adopted her, Sushi was about 2 ½ months old, which is the equivalent to a toddler in human years. And she most certainly acted like one, let me tell you. She sleeps with us, always follows us throughout each room of our spacious apartment and when she can’t find us, she will go looking for us. In fact this morning, because she couldn’t find Mr. K., she meowed until he came back home. What can I say? She loves her daddy.

Can you blame her? Look how adorable she is:

However, her presence has impacted our sex life. For one, we’re usually exhausted by the time we go to bed because we spent the last portion of our evening playing with her. We bought her a bed – a nice one, mind you – and she refuses to sleep in it. Actually, correction: she’ll sleep in the bed but only if one of my wigs is in there. (My cat’s weird!) But back to the main topic of this blog: our sex life. For the first few days, we acted like parents. We would close the door to get our freak on and come out to an unsuspecting Sushi. After a while we decided it was kinda silly so we just left the door opened.

Hmm…not sure if that was a good idea.

The other night when we were having sex, Sushi was on the bed with us. We decided to do it under the covers because we didn’t want to have cat hair all over us. I doubt that would’ve made a difference. When Maks was on top of me, Sushi kept attacking his booty because it was moving.  When I was sucking him off, Sushi kept playing with my head. Hmm…we might have to go back to closing the door.

Now, we don’t regret adopting our little furbaby; she’s actually taught us how to be better people. She’s also great practice for when we do become pregnant and expand our family. But she also taught us a great lesson: we need to keep our door closed to get our freak on.

We’ll figure this out one way or another. Cats have a long lifespan.

And there you have it,

-V.

Sex and the Married Woman: BDSM R Us

“Sex is one of the most wholesome, beautiful and natural experiences that money can buy.”

–Steve Martin

This past weekend, Maks and I attended the Everything to do with Sex (ES) show in Los Angeles. We really didn’t know what to expect; we’ve attended previous sex-related shows in the past and came home quite disappointed. But the ES show promised seminars, lectures, and vendors from all over the world as well as a fashion show and a burlesque act. There was also a highlighted male strip show and well, I’ll give you my reaction later on that. Let’s get to the good stuff.

Looking at the three-day schedule, I wondered what I wanted to do first. There were seminars on oral sex, anal sex, foreplay, stripping and cleaning (which very unfortunately, we missed), and a guide to tantric sex. See? It was a very informative sex show. However, I found a part of the show was more intriguing than anything else. It was the called the Dungeon.

Hmm…the Dungeon, huh?

The Dungeon was shaped like a big rectangular C-shaped area. Every few feet, there was a demonstration going on be it wax play, bondage, spanking, or some other form of BDSM play. Now going inside the Dungeon was intimidating at first; it was dark and only lit by red light.  I’m sure that was the intention of those running the Dungeon. It was a dark and mysterious feel but it wasn’t daunting. It was more of a ‘Hmm, what’s over here?’ kinda like a kid turning a corner in a candy store. Except I just happened to be inside an adult one.

So we’re inside the Dungeon. I did a semi-fast walk-through. We weren’t sure if we were supposed to stay and watch (or gawk) or just do a quick walk-by. My only thought was just to go through it and be done with it. However, something made me stop. I couldn’t stop staring at it. There he was. Inside a body bag. Now this wasn’t just any old body bag. This was a specialized vacuumed body bag.  What the hell? I asked one of the guys who was supervising over him if there was a real guy inside there and the answer was yes. I then asked if the guy was alive and the answer was yes.

This is very similar to what we saw.

And then we watched. And stared. Our feet were frozen.

I later learned after some brief research what I witnessed was a form of sensory deprivation.  Sensory deprivation is where the sub’s senses are restricted by bondage restraints. The man inside the vacuum was being restrained by the vacuum suction. He had two openings – one for breathing through his nose and the other was a container to pee or ejaculate in. The man was particularly small – maybe he was five feet tall at best and probably 115 lbs.  Tiny.

After a few minutes or so, the man was unzipped and he came out of the vacuum suction. He was euphoric, dare I say, he was orgasmic. It honestly seemed like he had an awakening. I asked him how it was like inside there and he said it was like being reborn. I just stood there in amazement and even Maks was impressed. He wanted to try it but I told him we’ll have to do that later. I’m still learning about BDSM and sensory deprivation is new to me. The very last thing I want is to fuck up somehow and oops, my husband can’t breathe anymore. How in the hell would I explain that to the cops? (You see, officers, this is what happened, right?…)

Because our trip to ES was so informative, I’m going to post a small series of Sex and the Married Woman posts dedicating our experience at ES. The next post will be on rope bondage and my encounter with the lovely Ms. Nikki Nefarious.

And there you have it,

-V.

Sex and the Married Woman: Naked Yoga II

So a while ago, I mentioned my foray back into yoga. (See Sex and the Married Woman: Naked Yoga for a refresher). Well, after a small (read: lazy) hiatus, I’m now doing it on weekly basis.  I’m averaging about three times a week. Go Vera! Maybe one day I’ll build up enough strength to do it around 45 minutes a pop and four times a week at bat. But for now, I’m grateful my fat ass can survive 30 minutes. Whew!

The thing about yoga is you’re using your own body weight as strength and to build endurance. Those yoga positions don’t look too bad until you get your ass into one of them and then as you’re in a Downward-Facing Dog position, you silently wonder, ‘Exactly what the fuck is it that I’m trying to achieve here?’

Well, I finally figured out what I’m trying to achieve. It’s this:

Notice how this is not the standard female-on-top position. It requires a lot of strength and flexibility from both parties.

Now for me to achieve aforementioned picture, I’m going to need to be a little slimmer. I’m also going to need a lot of stamina. This is where the yoga is coming into play. Even though it’s been a long while since I’ve done yoga, when I picked it back up, I already started to feel a difference. No, I didn’t suddenly lose five inches off my waist but my mood dramatically improved. I was more at peace with my body and my core. Things that once pissed me off, I don’t even give them a second glance. But that’s not the point of this blog post. You want to know how it’s improved my sex life.  The sex was already great before but I can honestly say now it’s improved a few notches.

One, I can stretch my legs farther than I could before. Though I’m not quite (nor will I ever be) at the contortionist level, It does help with certain positions to be more flexible and accommodating. Maks always like to try something new and now I’m game for it instead of how I used to be: give a funny look and then wonder what the hell he was trying to achieve there.

Two, that little thing about stamina I mentioned earlier. I can go longer! Yes, men, there are some women out there who care about their sexual performance just as much as you do. I know there are a few women who just like to lie there like a starfish and have it be done, there are many women like yours truly who like to actively participate – a lot.  It’s like I get a second wind in the middle of it.

I should try this position and see what happens...

Lastly, the big benefit of yoga is I’m happier.  A happy Vera equals a happy husband. A happy Vera also equals more production and peace. Not too bad, huh? Hopefully, I will keep this up and give another update in a month or so. I’m really excited about the possibilities. Any chance I get to improve my sex life, I’m game for.

And there you have it,

-V.

Sex and the Married Woman: Party at the ER

I am prepared to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the ordeal of meeting me is another matter.

- Winston Churchill

They say you never truly know how strong your relationship is until one of you has gone through a life-altering experience and you pull through it. Well, Maks and I have gone through the following: a lay-off, brush fires, long-distance relations, and familial problems that weren’t our own. We also had a couple of family deaths in the meantime. Of course, nothing could prepare us for what we both went through over the weekend: my first trip to the ER via ambulance! Woot!

I can honestly say this is pretty accurate.

I kid about the experience now but in all due respect, it was very scary. I’ve been battling stomach flu all last week (which explains the lack of postings and comments on other blogs). Everything was fine, so I thought. I was in the process of getting better and Saturday I felt like I could do jumping jacks. Well, I say that facetiously; I was able to walk with minimum pain. And then the strangest thing happened on Sunday: I was completely debilitated.

Let’s see, I had a fever, my heart rate was through the roof, and I could barely walk without crouching over in excruciating pain. Sounds like a party, doesn’t it? A quick call to 911 and I was in my first ambulance ride to the nearest hospital. The funniest thing happens when you’re in an ambulance: you look up at the lights and hear the EMTs (Emergency Medical Teams) talk to you and trying to keep you, well, alive and coherent but you honestly don’t understand what the hell is going on. All you know is you’re in pain, you’re going in and out of consciousness, and in the back of your mind, you’re wondering if this is really the end?  Ambulance rides, by the way, are very fast. If you think they’re in a rush while you’re pulled over, try being inside of one. I thought I was going to fall off the gurney a few times.

I quickly got a hefty dose of morphine and next thing you know, I’m floating. I can honestly see why people get addicted to morphine; that shit is awesome!

Yep, it's that's awesome.

So roughly 10 minutes later, I arrive at the ER and I quickly get the checked in and Maks fills out the necessary paperwork. And then we wait. A nurse comes in for the urine test and then we wait. We get escorted down for an ultrasound and then we wait. We get the ultrasound results back (which for privacy reasons, I won’t share but they’re not too bad and for most part, I’m pretty healthy otherwise) and we wait again. A technician comes in and tries very hard to find a vein in my arms and is not too successful, despite me and Maks telling him he was doing it wrong. I hate it when people don’t listen! He finally found a vein in my hand, which really fucking hurts!

Unfortunately, he was not my ER doctor. Damn TV fiction!

And then we wait. Five hours after we arrived at the ER, we finally get the go-ahead to go home and I spent the latter part of my Easter Sunday camped out on my couch. Fun times.

However, the point of this post isn’t to have you relive my wonderful ambulance trip with me; it’s to show the power of love. Maks really came through for me and demonstrated a strength when I was too weak to have one. Truth to be told, he saved my life this weekend and it’s not something that’s light on me. Anyone can love you; not everyone is willing to save your life. (This, I have to point out, is directed to the singles. Marriage is so much more than a piece of paper).

So I’m back home, resting. I’m still battling my head cold and I hope to be 100% by the end of this week finally. Being this sick sucks so bad but you know what, I’m alive and all thanks to my husband. That is pretty fucking cool.

And there you have you have it,

-V.

Sex and the Married Woman: Sex Games

Some couples play naked Twister. Others have role-play. A few partake in BDSM fantasies. I’ll admit off the bat in my single days, I’ve experimented with two out of the three (not saying which two, but I’m sure you can figure it out). Of course, when you’re single and running wild, you don’t really care if your partner is down for the cause as long as you’re getting yours. But when you’re in a committed relationship and do the forever ever ever and ever ever part, then it’s time to become creative. Because honestly, sometimes having just plain old sex can be such lamesauce.

As we approach our one-year marriage anniversary, Maks and I often experiment with different things regarding sex. Different lubes, different positions, and sometimes, different pornos. However, one particular time after a nice session, we did something we haven’t done before: we played a game. It was heated, it was exciting, and both of us felt very satisfied afterward.

It was a game of Scrabble. What? What were you thinking?

 

Okay, so we weren't quite in public or even this extreme, but it was something to this extent.

 

On Maks’ iPad, he has a Scrabble app. We often play against each other and it’s a fun competition. Sometimes, Maks completely smokes me (i.e. beats the crap out of me) and sometimes I win. But it’s a nice friendly competition with each other to see who can be the most creative with words.  Now you might be wondering, ‘Why on Earth would you want to play a game of Scrabble after having sex?’ to which my response is, ‘Why not?’

The interesting thing about being in a relationship is keeping the romance and sex alive. Experts always say divorce starts in the bedroom and I do believe there might be a bit of truth to that. Once sex is gone, things tend to fall downhill from there. (Personally, I think divorce starts with lack of communication and the no-sex issue is an added factor). Now, it’s not really a challenge for us to keep sex hot and interesting because there’s only two of us now. I imagine the real challenge will present itself when we finally become parents. However, when you just have some amazing sex and you’re not quite tired, what do you do?

One of my friends confided in me that one time after a session, she and her husband played XBOX.  Another friend said she and her husband played card games. Another friend mentioned she and her husband went on Facebook and played FarmVille. (Okay, that’s weird…).

 

My sentiments exactly...

 

The point is it’s not necessarily about the act of sex itself but what you do afterward that makes the difference. And sometimes, you want to be a little goofy. You just got your rocks off, why not?

And there you have it,

-V.