Were it not for smut, I might still be putting up with the lamest husband ever. 

What I needed was for someone to shake me awake from the dream that he loved me. Once I started reading trashy books, I realized I wasn’t having even a little fun in bed. Erotic fiction shook me. 

Those women and their hung, hungry, perfect lovers reminded me I’d once had sex fantasies. Ones I’d given up on. In the back of my creaky brain, my imaginary lovers were appalled at how bad my beloved was in bed. While I laid back for him, they counted his shortcomings for me. While I cleaned myself up in the bathroom afterwards, those flaws of his would rattle through my head. Then I would sob quietly into a towel so he wouldn’t hear my grief and I wouldn’t have to risk upsetting him how bad he was. 

That was the first step: remembering my fantasies. And one more thing: some men would do anything to see their woman fall apart in their arms. But not my husband. 


3 thoughts on “Erotic tales saved my life 

    • Delta of Venus. Lady Chatterley’s Lover. But in the last year, I’ve gorged indiscriminately. I’ve read every single ebook in my library under the category of “erotic literature,” some of them twice. Ones I remember include Asking For it (Lilah Pace). Bound Hearts series (Lora Leigh). Real series (Katy Evans). Also there’s one about a women’s fantasy club in Louisiana that seek to help women who need to take charge of their sexual lives and basically arrange for their fantasies in real life.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Great choices! Anais Nin is one of my very favorite erotica authors of all time. Sounds like you’ve been a busy girl 😉 Wow, a fantasy club for women…I love that idea.


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