Last month I had a mild midlife crisis after dancing in a gay club with attractive, sweaty young men who humored me.
I came home a bit disgruntled by the sexual stasis in my long-term marriage with the most interesting (and loving) husband in the world.
We discussed it and, although he was too tactful to admit it, I suspect things have been just as routine for him.
What to do? Sex clubs, polyamory, key parties or anything smacking of BDSM (pun intended) wasn't going to be in our repertoire.
Cut to the discovery of sexy, gloriously north-of-fifty author, Laura Corn's book 101 Nights of Great Sex.
You mean someone was going to tell me exactly what to do the next 101 times my husband, Henry, and I made love? And all I had to do was follow instructions and not tax my menopausal brain?
Two clicks and two days later the book arrived.
When I opened it, I was startled to see what I thought were a bunch of blank pages, but after deeper perusal, I realized each page was a little envelope that readers tear out of the book and pry open.
And inside each one of the 101 little envelopes is a sexual task.
Some of these tasks are for her eyes only and the rest for his eyes only. And you're not supposed to tell your partner what your task entails, as part of the success of seduction is the element of surprise! (This also works well for bank heists, just FYI).
Curious?
So, I ripped open my first envelope on Friday night. It was provocatively titled "The Velvet Tongue" and was unbelievably simple. All I needed was my man and any kind of hot liquid.
I bade Henry get in bed. We somehow managed to have two hours of an empty house as our daughters were off hitting softballs (why is it everything I write now sounds to my brain like a sexual innuendo?)
I went into the kitchen and turned the tea kettle on. From the bedroom Henry yelled, "The sound of boiling water does not inspire confidence!"
I yelled something along the lines of, "Shut up and get naked!" He didn't reply as, I can only assume, he was disrobing at lightening speed.
(He didn't realize that kiss would someday land him in hot water.)
Once the water was good and hot I poured it into a cup with an Orange Blossom herbal tea bag (again, sexual innuendos coming, so to speak, to mind.)
I dropped one ice cube into the tea to help it cool a bit faster then headed for the darkened bedroom where I could just make Henry out, sprawled atop the coverlet like Venus on the Half-Shell.
"What's that in your hand?" he asked suspiciously.
"Never mind."
"What are you planning to do to me? Will I ever be able to walk again?"
"Stop talking if you want any action."
I was met by a grudging acquiescence. I carefully took a large sip of the piping, aromatic brew then brought my lips to Henry's and kissed him with some of the tea still in my now hot mouth.
A kind of surprised yelp escaped my husband, followed almost instantaneously by a response just as steamy as the tea on my night table. I had to actually slow things down. Pulling away and taking another sip of the tea.
Then I made my way down his now quite alert and engaged body letting some of the hot liquid escape from my mouth as I went.
For those of you in my age bracket you might remember the Seinfeld episode in which an attractive women caught George Costanza nude after swimming in a frigid swimming pool.
He was devastated because the cold water caused "shrinkage," his male member contracting like a frightened turtle back into its shell.
I've learned hot water has the exact opposite effect.
When all was not-said, and well-done I couldn't believe how the novelty such a simple little trick, that was almost effortless, had such an incendiary effect on this long-term marriage!
Wonder what the next 100 nights have in store for us?
If you'd like more married sex tips (damn those innuendos) you can opt-in to Shannon's Relationship Newsletter HERE.
Earlier on Huff/Post50:
