Free Glitter. Real Stories About Sexual Desire From Real Women by Mona Darling, Lauren Fleming, Lynn Lacroix, Tizz Wall, Penny Barber, Hopper James, Elis Bradshaw, Delilah Night, Kate Anon, Nina Potts Page A

wonder, was he "mine"? Must I claim him? Surely I was not the only one to suffer at his hands?) only gave me herpes. He could have given me HIV/AIDS, he could have gotten me pregnant, he could have outright killed me. Lucky though I may have been, every time I have an outbreak, I relive that night in my head. And how very lucky, lucky, lucky that the Good Girl in me felt compelled to be upfront about the basics with every sexual partner that came after. Talk about a dampener.
    Another year rolled by before I met the man who is now my husband. He was without a doubt a Bad Boy, from ponytail to police record and so on. Yet, here was another man that proved to be nothing like I had ever met before. This time, that meant that he was solely focused on my pleasure and my enjoyment. He never pushed me out of my comfort zone. Instead he made me feel not only safe, but cherished, and eighteen years later he still does. He IS my comfort zone. Sex in our marriage is not about who has the upper hand, pushing boundaries, asserting control or proving that I am alive. Sex is now a source of comfort in times of stress, it is soothing and relaxing. It is full of fun and often, laughter. It is intimate without any hint of violation and it is everything I need it to be.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
    Broken
    Kate Anon
    I am a thirty-one-year-old late bloomer. While I think I spent my teen years completely preoccupied by sex, it was not until I was almost nineteen that I finally acted on my desires. I can be found at @KateAnon and KateAnon.com.
     
     
    In my early twenties, I struggled as a young woman married to a man with a very low libido. I was disappointed by married sex. I questioned if I was a sex addict, or had an unhealthy relationship with the act.
    It was only after a few months of trying to conceive that I realized just how much of a proble m h e had. When you first decide to head down this road, you anticipate having intercourse all the time, to up your odds. When a man has his heart set on being a dad but doesn't want to do the act necessary to get things started, you worry. Hurdle one.
    After visiting a urologist, we realized he made almost no testosterone. Which meant he produced almost no sperm. Hurdle two, which took years to properly discover. So, at twenty-five and thirty-nine, we became infertility patients. Shots and blood work for both of us. Restrictions on our sex life so we would be best able to move forward with IVF.
    We could no longer have sex for pleasure. It seemed all about creation. It wasn't pleasurable, anyway. Sex was now a reminder that we were broken. It reminded me of miscarriages and failed cycles and gained weight. It reminded him of low desire and lower hormone levels. It made us both feel like failures.
    Our first IVF cycle, I hyperstimulated and wound up in the emergency room. Our next, the sample had no sperm; testosterone replacement is a delicate game and that round, we lost.  We did finally go through cycles that seemed successful, until the time came to do the pregnancy tests. We were never able to conceive this way, because after starting a new regimen of drugs, an ultrasound showed an abnormal growth in my uterus. Hurdle three, and this one was the kicker: cancer.
    My marriage was crumbling under the weight. We had been married for four years at this point, and before all this, I would have told you that we were a strong couple. I guess we just weren't strong enough.
    I had always struggled with my sexual identity. I don't think I was very promiscuous, but my husband had only one partner before me, and I worried he did think that of me. I had always wanted more, kinkier, different. He preferred a regular schedule of missionary, not too often. I thought he'd come around, he just hadn't had enough experience to become experimental.
    Boy, was I wrong. As we headed down the road of infertility treatments and disappointment, the sex happened less and less frequently. From about six months