Seeking an Orgasmic Life

Chapter 3



After leaping around the living room naked, (apart from the socks), boobs akimbo, cat joining in and skating between my feet on the laminate flooring, I sink onto the sofa.

Worn out. From all the leaping.

Yes, ok, I say to Rex, who looks back at me from her understanding eyes, I have the freedom, but I’m exhausted. A full-time job to pay a now massive mortgage, plus two nearly teenage kids, I really don’t have time, or energy, to search for sexual fulfilment. From the little I know, Tantric sex sounds like a time consuming business, with lots of omming and meditation before you get down to business. Anyway, I was always rubbish at picking up men. Terrified, totally lacking in confidence and completely inept at flirting – didn’t even understand what the word meant. That was in my twenties. Ha, how was I going to get on in my forties, the beauty of youth I had taken for granted now no longer on my side?

I take off my baggy jumper which I wear to hide the fuller figure I never got used to. Underneath I’m wearing a M&S vest ‘with built in support’. The moulded cups don’t exactly fit my breasts, so I appear to have two sets of boobs instead of just the one. I have four of these tops, I wear one every day. I slip off my shoes, a pair of sturdy tan Clarkes that have lasted me ten years, then unbutton my jeans. I wriggle my hips to slide them off and step out of my trousers, socks still on. My calves are the only part of my body that didn’t expand after I had a child; now they look spindly beneath my broad thighs. I pull my vest over my head and drop it on the floor. I look better bare-chested. I don’t actually have two set of breasts, just the one. I cup my breasts in my hands and squeeze. The thing is, since my husband left, my libido has returned. Not a gentle nudge, a light rekindling of a flame: no. Rather, a voracious tornado, whipping me up into a frenzy of longing.

” Longing to be kissed, to be teased, to be turned on and touched – very, very slowly. ”

It’s as though all the sexual desire I could have experienced over the last five years has been stored up and now my body has decided it’s safe to let it out…

But –

You get into habits, without even noticing. I’d stopped wearing proper bras years ago and settled for the comfort of a ‘vest with support’ which conveniently covered my baby belly too. Clothes for hiding in do you no favours. I pick up the phone and make an appointment at M&S for a bra fitting, then I open my underwear drawer. All offending items are thrown into a pile on the floor, then it’s on to knickers. What a grim selection. I pull out a pair of pants that have faded from black to grey – in patches. The lace trimming has detached from one side and hangs .It’s ok to throw things away, I tell myself. Anything kept solely for that time of the month goes in the bin. I don’t venture into the bottom drawer, that’s a whole other kettle of fish and I am not ready to go there yet.

Yab Yum Blog

M&S underwear, I discover, has come a long way since I last visited.

Silk and French lace have found their way into the aisles of peach shapewear and cotton-rich high-waist pants. I leave wearing a Rosie for Autograph lace body and a bag full of silk Brazilian panties and push-up bras. I feel better. I look better: instantly. Every day from today, even though no one but me and Rex see, I will be wearing beautiful lingerie which I love, no rips, fading or loose threads.

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