Madame Floretta “Fern” De Villiers, a.k.a. “Amanda Fox” is an author of erotic fiction and commentary. This is her weekly advice column.
Before my girlfriend and I moved in together, she made me promise to always let her have one Friday a month to go out with her friends – DeeDee, Ariel, Elvira, Chiara and Lady Angelique. She also made me promise that no matter what, I would never, ever look in her closet. Of course, I agreed.
Well, it’s been a year and I’ve managed to uphold my part of the bargain about letting her go out with her friends, but the thing about the closet has given me some trouble. I’ve had a really hard time keeping my nose out of there, and last month, I peaked.
At first glance, all I saw were clothes and shoes, but then I dug around a bit and I found a plastic container jammed in the back under an old sleeping bag. Fern, you’ll never guess what was inside: hooks and ropes, stainless steel clothes pins, a fake arm, something called a “Butt Pirate”, some black latex hooves, a leather hood, something that looked like a laser gun and something else that looked like an oxygen mask, a whip and a very small torch. Now I’m a pretty open-minded individual, but YIKES!
Apart from the shock of what I saw, I was upset that she has been keeping this part of herself secret. As our own sex life is very vanilla, I was also perplexed as to when and where she might be using this gear so I started paying attention to her habits. Wouldn’t you know it, the next Friday that she went out with her friends – like eight days ago – she came home all disheveled. Before kissing me hello, she headed straight for the shower.
How could I have been so naïve as to think that she was going out with the girls to watch a chick flick and drink wine? What should I do, Fern? Should I confront her about it or wait until she feels like sharing? But then what if she never does? Also, I wouldn’t mind wearing a pair of black latex hooves.
Locked Out in London
Dear Locked Out,
First of all, shame on you for being such a nosy parker. A deal’s a deal. And you broke it. You may need to be punished for that – I’ll give you my address later.
Otherwise yes, I think you have indeed discovered that your girlfriend is indeed a Nasty Patty, a Kinky Karmen, a Perverted Pamela. But that is really of no consequence to you. Bottom line, she hasn’t shared that part of her life – at least not yet. Now perhaps she thinks you couldn’t handle it – after all, you DID react to those hooks and whips with a “Yikes!” – or maybe it’s just a part of her life that she’d rather forget. Or maybe she likes having wild dominatrix orgies with her girlfriends one Friday a month but then likes having “vanilla” sex with you the rest of the time.
My suggestion? Don’t say anything. Just go out and buy some DVD’s. Dominating Divas, Volume 1: Rubber Love and Dominating Divas, Volume 2: Total Obedience are a few of my personal fav’s. The next time the two of you are getting frisky, slip one into the machine. Gauge her reaction. If her eyes light up and she starts moistening her lips every few seconds, well, I think it’s safe to say you have the green light. If however, she turns grey and tells you that she suddenly has a headache, you are outta luck. Simply forget what you saw in the closet and get on with your life.
I am a thirty-five year old divorcee. Since separating from my husband three years ago, I’ve dated quite a few guys, some much younger than myself. At the moment, I’m even considering asking out my daughter’s ex-boyfriend. He is a trainer at my gym and he’s always flirting with me. When I talked to my daughter about it, she said, “Do whatever the %$#@ you want, Mom. Really, I don’t give a &*%$.” What’s with the attitude? Personally, I don’t see the problem. They aren’t engaged anymore. What do you think?
Cougar On The Prowl
You’re right. There is NO problem. Your daughter’s ex is a free man and you are a grown woman. You should both be able to do whatever the %$#@ you want.
As it happens, I too have adopted this exact philosophy, and that is, I now do whatever the %$#@ I want, whenever the %$#@ I want to, screw the consequences or the people I might hurt. In fact, I’ve been eyeing this pretty pink tricycle that belongs to the little girl down the street. I think I might push her off the next time I see her out riding and take it home to use as a plant stand.
There’s also this old guy from two doors down who walks with a cane. Such a stick might come in handy for say, pushing little girls off tricycles or for holding up plants. The next time I see him, I’m going to grab it, hit him in the head with it, and run. Yeah, I think my new plan is going to work out just great, don’t you?
Truly, it is my belief that EVERYONE should be able to do whatever the %$#@ they want, whenever the %$#@ they want to. People should be able to SAY what they want, DO what they want, and even WEAR what they want. Luckily, Speedo has started making its men’s bikini swim trunks in size XXXL. Not only that, but Gap now sells skinny jeans in women’s size forty-eight short. What the %$#@ do you know Stacey and Clinton?
On second thought, maybe there are a few things in this world that one just SHOULDN’T do. Here is the list:
1.You SHOULDN’T have sex with your dog, even if he is an unusually attractive Great Dane.
2.When choosing artificial insemination as a means of getting pregnant, you SHOULDN’T use your first cousin’s (or your brother’s) sperm to make the baby.
3.You SHOULDN’T drink more than one 40 oz. bottle of Wray and Nephew white over-proof rum per day.
4.You SHOULDN’T stick your fingers into an industrial fan when it’s turned on.
5.You SHOULDN’T put a plastic bag over your head, zip it shut, and then climb into a freezer.
6.You SHOULDN’T chew gum that you’ve pried off the street.
7.You SHOULDN’T tell your wife or girlfriend that she is fat – ever – even if she asks you to tell the God’s honest truth.
8.And finally, you absolutely, positively SHOULD NOT date your daughter’s ex-fiancé. It’s just not cool.
BTW, are you from Kentucky?
My wife and I have been married for eleven years. Lately, when we are having sex, she wants me to pretend to be any one of various movie and television characters. She’s had me dress up like a pirate (Johnny Depp), a doctor (Patrick Dempsey), and even a superhero (Hugh Jackman). Why can’t she just want me to be ME?
Tired Of Playing Dress-up
Fact: after year five of any committed relationship, you MUST incorporate fantasy into your sex life EVERY SINGLE TIME or else it will go to crap. Sorry.
And tell your wife that I think she’s missed a few. How about a cop (Alex O’Loughlin)? A gladiator (Spartacus’s Manu Bennett)? Or even a soldier (Richard Gere in An Officer and a Gentleman)? Geez, I could go on forever…
My boyfriend always insists that we go back to HIS apartment to have sex. At first, I thought he was just trying to show off his waterbed but then things started getting weird. See, we always seem to follow the same pattern – we go to his house, we sit on the couch, we kiss, and then Michael suggests that we go to his room. Once inside, he shuts the door, making sure that at least one (if not all three) of his cats – Kitty G, Cuddles or Mistress Anne – are in there with us. Last week, during some particularly hot foreplay, when I accidentally pushed Cuddles off the bed with my foot, Michael freaked out, yelling, “What are you doing? She is my princess!”
So I asked, “Hey, what’s up with you and the cats?”
To say that he got defensive is an understatement, and we argued for a good hour before he told me to “beat it”. The next day, he apologized and proposed that he come over to MY house for a change. Yes, we had sex, but it was nowhere near as good as when we are at HIS house, in HIS room, around HIS cats. I’m not sure that he even “finished”, if you get my meaning.
Since then, I’ve tried not to bother him about his strange behavior, but it seems to me that he needs to have some cat – any cat – watching in order to perform sexually. It also seems that the closer the cats are, the harder his you-know-what gets. I like Michael, but this is totally creeping me out. What should I do?
Can’t Handle The Animals
OH MY GOD! I didn’t know that there was anyone else in the world with the same fetish as me. Thank you SOOO much for writing in. Knowing that I’m not alone has lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. Wow, I love cats. I love cats. I REALLY LOVE CATS! Let me proclaim it to the world. Phew, I feel so much better.
OK, now where were we? Right – back to your problem. Well, you’ve come to the right person to answer your question, Can’t. If you’d like to stay with Michael, then you have a few options.
1.When it’s time to have sex, dress-up like a cat. This is such an obvious approach that I’m surprised you didn’t think of it on your own, but whatever. At a minimum, wear some ears and a tail. See my post on “Furries” to help you get started.
2.If you do manage to convince your boyfriend to have sex at YOUR house, then the least you could do is set out a dish of Temptations Kitty Treats on the bedside table as an after-coitus snack.
3.You could TRY buying a stuffed cat, but to be honest, I don’t think it’ll do much good. Real is best.
4.Change your name to Fluffy, Furball, or Furry Von Purrsalot.If, on the other hand, you DO decide to ditch him – and quite frankly, I don’t know why you would because Michael sounds like one heck of a guy – but if you do, tell him that you were a dog in your past life and I guarantee, you’ll be rid of him forever.