BEDSIDE CHAT 3: An Unusual 28th Wedding Anniversary
BEDSIDE CHAT 3:
+Passover & Easter in Quarantine!
Length 1:34:44 Date: Apr. 11, 2020
by Dr. Susan Block.
It’s our 28th wedding anniversary!
It’s also Easter Eve, the 4th night of Passover, our third Bedside Chat of the Coronapocalypse and our thousandth day in Quarantine.
Well, it’s not the thousandth day, not even close; it just feels like it is.
You can’t go out except for “essentials.” You can’t touch anybody or even come within six feet of anybody—except the person or people with whom you’re sheltering.
At least, you shouldn’t.
I’m not sure how many of us are conscientiously following the “new rules” of physical distancing, but even if you’re not (and you should), I’m sure you’re thinking about it. The mounting death count has a way of asserting itself into even the most obtuse of intellects.
28 years ago, Capt’n Max and I entered into the kinkiest kind of human bondage: marriage.
In this deadly realm of silent spreaders and unwitting victims, relationships have never been so important—or complex. A good one is great, but a bad relationship is a lot worse than soup-for-one and solo sex in self-isolation.
No doubt, never has sheltering with someone you love—as well as trust and lust for (gotta have a little lust in your life)—been more critical.
Pr. Max, aka Capt’n Max, and I are very lucky little devils to have that, but then we’ve had it for a long time, even when it hasn’t been so *cool.*
Long-term marriage isn’t for everybody. Maybe not even for most people.
But it is for us. Wild, kinky and pansensual as we are, we’re also very much married, sharing and being “witnesses” to each other’s lives, creating and constantly recreating the romance that just seems to deepen as we age, maybe especially during tough times like this crazy, death-dealing Coronapocalypse.
Human life is upside down and inside out…especially nowadays.
“Everything has changed” is the mantra of our Coronapocalyptic times, some things for the better–pollution levels, awareness of extreme inequality and the need for Medicare for All—and a lot for the worse–the tyrannical Trumpus rolling back pollution standards, continuing inequality and lack of Medicare for All, a collapsing economy, as well as this maddening imperative to keep our physical distances so as to “flatten the curve” (no silly, not our boobs, our death rate)!
But our love just keeps on keeping on for 28 years.
Photo: Harry Sapien
Cheers to another 28!
Coronavirus willing, of course.
A Stellar Line-Up
We love, trust and lust for each other more than ever. Occasionally, we disagree (okay, maybe a little more than occasionally); but we always find a way to work it out, and we have no problem spending 24/7 together.
Still, no couple is an island.
So, we’re super-lucky to spend this auspicious anniversary with our masked and physical-distancing Bonoboville crew (we’re all in isolation together, but once or twice a week, someone has to go out shopping).
Plus three of our favorite all-time DrSuzy.Tv guests join us for the celebration!
Even though they can’t be with us in person, we share this very special show via the wonders of Zoom with our very own harem of beauties, the Three Graces of Spring: DomCon leader and “Animal Play” expert, Madame Margherite, Glamazon “Erotic Desires” hostess and kink life coach Goddess Phoenix and exotic dancer of dancers Amber Mercedes.
Wow, what an all-star cast!
Our wedding anniversaries past have featured gazillion-watt, raise-the-rafters, orgiastic, female-empowered, Felliniesque, bonoboesque bacchanalias. A couple years ago for our 26th, we had naked female wrestling, naked singers, naked cake splosh, naked spankers, guests on ecstasy, guests in ecstasy, and sex, sex, sex, porn-star sex, couples sex, group sex—really it was quite the orgy, but all about love, as well as lust.
Unfortunately, we can’t have an orgy in the Coronapocalypse; at least we shouldn’t, and we don’t.
So, we show off wedding photos from another century and ogle our sexy guests (more about their awesomeness in a few paragraphs).
Photos 1-2: Selfies. Photos 3-11: Harry Sapien. Photo 12: Unscene Abe.
Thanks to them and our crackerjack crew, our 28th is certainly an excellent anniversary adventure to remember!
Orchids & Family Jewels
The theme for the 28th anniversary is the orchid, “the most highly coveted of ornamental plants, the delicate, exotic and graceful orchid represents love, luxury, beauty and strength. Purple orchids symbolize admiration… and royalty.”
The “royal” part is appropriate for Pr. Max who is a prince on his Mother’s Filangieri side and Father’s Lobkowicz side. That, plus a couple of Euros, will buy you a cappuccino in Rome or an orchid in Prague.
Orchids are regarded as rare, even though they’re really rather common.
I must say Ana and Miguel really outdid themselves with the orchid theme, weaving real and hand-painted artificial blooms, to create elaborate orchid Easter baskets.
Though, of course, much to tRump’s chagrin, there are no Easter parades this year.
In ancient Greece, orchids were associated with virility.
Wondering how the delicate feminine orchid could represent or somehow impart male sexual potency, I looked up the root of the word “orchid” and—Holy Gonads, Batman—it derives from the ancient Greek word “orchis,” meaning testicles.
Theophrastus, a Greek native of the isle of Lesbos (of course) known as the Father of Botany, gave orchids their name because he thought the fragrant bulbs looked like balls.
So blue orchids would be blue balls?
I don’t know. Maybe I need more herbs and wine to see that…
Stigmata Bunny & the Motorbunny
Speaking of herbs and wine (Manischewitz, of course), it’s Passover, so we have a Seder Plate.
Photos 2 & 4: Harry Sapien. Photo 3: Sunshine McWane
It’s also Easter, so we have crucifixes and bunnies.
Sunshine really puts her art training and wicked sense of humor to good use, dressing up as “Stigmata Bunny.”
The pink rabbit ears and white cottontail in her butt are adorable, and the reddish food-colored holes in her hands and feet look appropriately bloody.
I love the symbol of the cross, so phallic and soaring with spirit. The gory parts of the crucifixion… not so much.
But bunnies are great. Who doesn’t wuv wabbits? Especially with those big phallic carrots.
So, of course, we have a few bunnies: chocolate bunnies, stuffed bunnies and a wind-up bunny that poops jelly beans.
We even have a bunny on the Motorbunny.
I must admit that at first, I didn’t really want it, but they made me take it, like a couple of kids making Mom adopt their problem child.
Of course, I had no idea what to do with the big, lumpy, old creature, so he got stuck in the Bonoboville laundry room, along with the towels and blankets.
But Easter 2020 has given Daniele and Be*Live’s bunny, now dubbed “Big Old Bunny,” a reason to emerge from laundered hibernation.
Photos 1, 2, 3, 5: Harry Sapien. Photo 4: Sunshine McWane
Thanks to Miguel propping him up, Big Old Bunny has come alive.
Maybe it’s the Motorbunny buzzing under him.
I put a garland of fake orchids around his furry neck for our anniversary and a tallit around his bunny shoulders for Passover.
Now all he needs is a girl rabbit so they can mate like bunnies!
Photos 1 & 4: Harry Sapien. Photos 2-3: Sunshine McWane
Sunshine makes adorable Easter cards and bakes special stigmata cookies in the shapes of hands and feet, bleeding strawberry jam, corn syrup and red food coloring.
Real-life cannibalism is, of course, a hard “no,” even with consent.
But anything is possible–and edible–in the Erotic Theater of the Mind… especially with strawberry jam (not toe jam)!
Last Supper = Last Seder
That is, the Last Supper of Jesus and the Apostles on the Thursday before Good Friday was a Passover Seder.
Too bad it’s not about eating feet, but I take a bite of Sunshine’s stigmata foot cookie anyway.
Easter cookies aren’t kosher for Pesach, but Passover is all about sharing food, stories and human spirit. Jesus is said to share of his body and blood–maybe symbolically, with the Matzah (later the wafer) and the wine—and maybe a little more literally as well, especially with Mary Magdalene, probably his wife, certainly his lover.
Maybe with the other apostles too. Jesus seems bisexual, and nowhere do the Gospels say he is celibate. If he was a Rabbi, as the Gospels say he was, he wouldn’t be celibate. He’d be married. The DaVinci Code says the beautiful apostle next to him at The Last Seder is Magdalene.
“Why is this night different from all other nights?” begins the iconic “Four Questions” of the Passover Seder... In 2020, we can all sincerely ask ourselves and our God(s), “Why is this year different from all other years?”
So we have the Seder Plate that Ana and I cook up, improving on my Mom’s recipes by adding cranberries and cashews to the haroseth (representing the mortar used by the Hebrew slaves to build the pyramids) and burning an orchid-colored Easter egg (both Passover and Easter feature eggs, symbolizing Spring).
We also soup up the maror or “bitter herbs,” strong-as-wasabi horse radish that makes your eyes tear up so you can feel the suffering of the Hebrew slaves.
Certain herbs can enhance empathy, but I don’t know if eating horse radish gives the eater much insight into a real slave’s predicament.
My own naughty tradition is to layer the red and white horse radish into a parfait glass, making it look like a strawberry and vanilla ice cream sundae to fool the unsuspecting (go ahead and take a big bite, Mar!)
When it comes right now to the nitty gritty, essentially, Passover is all about herbs and wine.
Photos: Harry Sapien
Normally, we share these foods, drinks and mood enhancers, the whole family or community dipping into the same bowls.
But “normal” is no more, and food-sharing is risky, so not this Passover…
“Why is this night different from all other nights?” begins the iconic “Four Questions” of the Passover Seder.
Ma Nish Tana Halayla Hazeh Mikol Halaylot?
In 2020, we can all sincerely ask ourselves and our God(s), “Why is this year different from all other years?”
Easter/Passover Hand-Washing Fetish
Here’s an interesting spring holiday factoid related to the Coronapocalypse: Hand-washing is important to both Passover and Easter.
On Passover, we ritualistically and almost fetishistically wash our hands at the Seder table in a bowl of water, drying them off with a hand towel. This would seem very clean, but the problem is that everybody at the table then generally uses that bowl and towel, which is most certainly not sanitary for the Coronapocalypse.
Nevertheless, this may be one reason why many Jews didn’t get the Black Death and other plagues that ravaged Europe in the Middle Ages: because they were constantly, obsessively, ritualistically, religiously washing their hands. That’s why many frightened, superstitious and perhaps bigoted Christians accused Jews of being “in league with the Devil” and creating the Plague.
Well, we use sanitizer and virus-obliterating wipes!
Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav vitzivanu al n’tilat yadayim.
Blessed art Thou, Oh Lord our God, king of the universe, who has sanctified us with Thy commandments, and commanded us to wash our hands.
Hand-washing also rises up in the Easter story.
Actually, it happens on Good Friday.
Indeed, the Roman governor of Judea literally washes his hands of all responsibility for the crucifixion that his own soldiers carry out.
This lays the groundwork for good Christians of the future to, of course, blame the Jews for “murdering God” and let sleazy politicians off the hook.
So the Coronapocalypse isn’t the first time that hand-washing is a matter of life and death.
After the Crucifixion comes the Resurrection.
In Bonoboville, we roleplay this incredible Christian miracle with another cordially blasphemous act: the Res-Erection of Jesus, featuring our beautiful dark purple Divine Interventions “Jesus Jackhammer” dildo rising up out of a Vulva Puppet… and going back in.
Unlike previous Easters, we don’t penetrate any vaginas with it this year, but I do give it a devout suck.
Upon penetration, I sing, “Glory Hallelujah! Jesus is in me now!”
You Greek mythology buffs might know that long before the Rebirth of the Holy Son returning to His Heavenly Father, there was the Resurrection of the Holy Daughter coming home to Her Holy Mother.
This is the tale (which we acted out at last year’s Bunny 4/20 Passover Honey) of the Greek Goddess Proserpina (Persephone to the Romans) rising up from the Bowels of Hades to rejoin Her Earth Mama Demeter (Ceres) who is so ecstatic to embrace the resurrected Fruit of Her Loins that She showers the world in Spring.
Sing hallelujah for the Resurrection of Persephone and our Holy Mother, the Earth.
Get Well Dr. Will!
Back to COVID-19: Check out my newest missive from my little corner of the Coronapocalypse, “’Normal’ Insanity & Unpaid Hookers” in Counterpunch, “America’s BEST Political Newsletter” (Outback Mag).
Jesus loved the hookers, and so should we. But our John-in-Chief, being more Pontius Pilate than Jesus Christ, would rather provide Coronavirus “relief” to the Corporate Whores on Wall Street than to Honest Whores, aka sex workers.
Those of you who still believe that our Corona quandary is a “hoax,” well, I understand that might comfort and preoccupy you, but it’s a pretty dangerous state of ignorance.
Though we’ve been joking about it since Chinese New Year (and we still are), it really hits home when someone you care about comes down with the virus.
That’s what happened to our friend and fellow Yalie (part of our illustrious 2006 Yale Annex intern group), Dr. Will Tauxe, an emergency room physician, caught Coronavirus, probably from his patients, and is now hospitalized and on oxygen (thankfully, not a ventilator).
Will is young and has no pre-existing conditions, so he’ll probably (hopefully) heal soon, but it’s a bitch!
This bitch is no hoax. Respect her, avoid her, recognize that she is clever, as only a super-virus can be, as well as mostly invisible, and whatever you do, don’t be a spreader!
I’m not sure why Will has a bandage wrapped around his head with a spot of what looks like blood on the upper left side. I’ve never heard of Coronavirus making your head bleed. Hopefully that’s red paint, and Will, a congenital prankster, is just roleplaying that’s he’s a soldier wounded on the battlefield.
To me, doctors like Will and nurses who literally save our lives and risk their own every day are infinitely more heroic and valuable to our society than actual soldiers who kill and die for the American war machine.
Goddess Phoenix in the Bubble Bath
Even without our guests, this would be a pretty entertaining, sapiosexual and information-packed Bedside Chat, but the guests make it epic.
As regular Journal readers know, the Goddess’ fabulous housewarming was the pool party of the Summer of 2019.
She also gave me one of my favorite birthday gifts ever: my fiber optic whip.
Not only is it dazzling, but it’s over two yards long.
So it’s perfect for maintaining the six-feet-apart-rule for the Coronapocalypse while still enabling me to smack Sunshine’s bunny-tailed butt.
Goddess Phoenix is every inch the living Goddess, greeting us from her luxuriously appointed couch wielding her own fiber optic whip, wishing us a happy 28th wedding anniversary.
Making productive use of her quarantine time, Goddess Phoenix is working on her autobiography and teaching online classes in the arts of BDSM and kink. She looks forward to “getting through” the Coronapocalypse, so she can get back to hosting Erotic Desires Travels, an adventurous travel club for kink-minded people. In the meantime, she and DomCon founder Mistress Cyan are starting up online Domme School.
Whether it’s Coronavirus, cancer, climate change, war or a freak accident, we can’t escape the Grim Reaper, but through erotic hypnosis, fantasy roleplay and other techniques that enhance the playful but powerful suspension of disbelief, we can get away for a day, or an hour, or a precious moment in a sparkling bubble bath with a dazzling Goddess… That moment, in and of itself, can be very healing.
After a short break, we return to find the Goddess in her bubble bath, à la Marilyn Monroe, patron saint of sexpots.
What a sparkling vision of effervescence and seduction!
Like the Greek Goddess Aphrodite rising up from the foamy sea, born full-figured (and oh, what a figure), she is forever a woman, never a baby, always taking full responsibility–with pleasure–for her actions.
What a gorgeous 28th wedding anniversary gift, paying off in the ecstatic eye-candy pleasure of the moment as well as bubbling up between the Captain and me a few hours later, during our 28th wedding anniversary sexcapades.
It’s fascinating and rather eerie how—for better and for worse—we humans appear to be leaving our physical bodies and entering more deeply into our minds and imaginations… or trying to.
This would be fine and even fabulous—a way to escape our melancholy physical fates, except that the “body is the temple of the soul” and, as far as we know, once it’s dead and gone, so are all our wonderful thoughts and soulful fantasies.
Whether it’s Coronavirus, cancer, climate change, war or a freak accident, we can’t escape the Grim Reaper, but through erotic hypnosis, fantasy roleplay and other techniques that enhance the playful but powerful suspension of disbelief, we can get away for a day, or an hour, or a precious moment in a sparkling bubblebath with a dazzling Goddess.
That moment, in and of itself, can be very healing.
Speaking of which, most of the Goddess stays under the bubbles, though we get a glimpse of her divine boobs just before we sign off.
Inspired by the Goddess, I put my own feet in My Captain’s lap.
First in high heels…
Then stocking feet for the nylon lovers.
He even gives me a little foot rub… a nice public prelude for more intimate anniversary adventures-to-cum…
Foot play is great foreplay.
Between the toe-teasing, foot-rubbing, sole-washing and tootsie-cookie eating, this is definitely a show for the foot fetishists!
Madame Margherite before the Cross
Next we tune into marvelous Madame Margherite, “Best Animal Play Monarch” SUZY Award winner (in fact, MM herself inspired me to create that award), also featured in SPANK ‘n’ ART, as well as SPLOSH ‘n’ ART, which immortalizes her virgin visit to Bonoboville.
At that time (December, 2016), Madame Margherite had just arrived from Brooklyn to Los Angeles where she hardly knew a soul. I’m so honored (and lucky) that her first public appearance was on DrSuzy.Tv.
Since then, MM has risen like Jesus or Persephone to the heavenly heights of LA kink, becoming one of the Southland’s top FemDoms and a very active member of the DomCon board.
Currently, she is quarantining at Sanctuary, holding down the fort and renovating Mistress Cyan’s acclaimed West LA dungeon, as well as making clips for Only Fans and holding sessions online via the Kink Academy.
She’s posed artfully by the bondage cross, an appropriate symbol of Easter, though it’s a St. Andrew’s “X,” not a Christian cross, highlighting our 28th wedding anniversary color in shades of deep, rich, orchid purple.
Hair pulled back, in a violet-burgundy sheath, high heels and purple socks, she looks effortlessly elegant and casually dignified.
Wow, MM has always been slim and fit, but all that Sanctuary-renovating has toned her hot body up even more.
“A bracha for that tuchis (a prayer for that ass),” says John Coxe on the FB Live feed.
MM was a featured guest at our silver 25th Wedding Anniversary (2017) when she and her “elite” troupe of human pets gave a command performance, so we celebrate National Pet Day, as well as our 28th anniversary and Passover.
Being Jewish, MM always celebrates Shabbat, but she isn’t as steeped in Passover lore as your Yiddishe Love Doctor here.
Though it would be appropriate, considering the Corona “plague,” we don’t have time to get into the 10 Plagues of Passover, and all the wine-spilling seems a little too messy right now.
We barely get into the Matzah, which is like a Communion wafer for Passover, a strange bland cracker that wants to be bread, but didn’t rise to the occasion.
Though I do find a moment to juggle my matzah balls mid-Bedside Chat.
Actually Harry is much better at juggling my balls which he does in the post-show party.
That sounds funnier than it is.
Well, orchids and balls are an ongoing sub-theme of this Bedside Chat.
What’s really funny is Harry wearing Sunshine’s bra as a face mask.
We do find time for a little Dayenu scallion flogging. Yes indeed, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners: Seasons Beatings!
I learned this kinky Sephardic Jewish tradition from Orthodox Rabbi Shmuley Boteach, author of Kosher Sex, now (sadly) a tRump supporter, but this was the Clinton years (1998, to be exact), when the Rabbi taught Capt’n Max and me the ritual of scallion flogging at his family Seder, as his seven kids, wife, dad, brother and sister-in-law sat around the table smacking each other on the back with green onions during every chorus of “Dayenu.”
The light but gleefully-administered slaps are supposed to be a playful reminder of how the Egyptian taskmasters are said to have “lashed” the Hebrew slaves, and they are the high point of the otherwise rather long, boring Seder for most Persian Jewish kids.
I don’t know whether or not these kids are more prone to develop spanking fetishes, but a study should be done.
Since our own Passover Seders are always child-free, over the past 22 years here in Bonoboville, we’ve taken our Dayenu scallion floggings to the natural, adult, next-level: smacking each other with scallions on the butt, i.e., spanking.
In the Coronapocalypse of physical distancing, we can’t scallion flog each other. Technically, Max and I could, since we are self-isolating together, but we want to “set an example” for everyone else, including those Sephardic Jews who really miss the pleasure of community Passover scallion flogging and might be watching.
So, we self-scallion flog.
Of course, it’s not as much fun as scallion-flogging someone else, whether in an erotic or just plain silly way. However, like self-pleasure, it’s a little bit fun and very safe in terms of physical distance, unless you hit your own eye with a flying onion.
Also, self-flagellation conjures images of young monks whipping themselves for their sinful thoughts, in emulation of Jesus who was whipped by the Romans before being crucified on Good Friday.
Sunshine takes it back to the social level—while maintaining physical distance—scallion-flogging the monitor when Madame Margherite shows her beautiful, well-toned butt.
Then I flog Sunshine with Goddess Phoenix’s whip.
Max tells his stories of old friend, Queen Adrina, a pioneering dominatrix, giantess, phone sex artist and wrestler of the mid-20th century, as he explains his abiding appreciation for dominant women.
He loves DomCon almost as much as I do, and we hope to see both Madame Margherite and Goddess Phoenix at DomCon 2020 (now postponed to August) where, if all goes well and we’re not all in Coronapocalyptic Hell, I will be DomCon 2020 Mistress of Ceremonies.
Please COVID-19, go away, and don’t come back another day!
Amber the Dancer
Last but not at all least, we have our dear friend, the lithe and seductive exotic dancer, Amber Mercedes.
Amber first appears as a guest on DrSuzy.Tv back in 2005. Then in March of 2006, she stars as Queen Esther in our Purim Commedia Erotica show.
In 15 years, she hasn’t changed a bit. Well, actually, she has changed—a bit—and it’s for the better.
Amber is in fabulous shape, and she shows off that shape from her twinkle light-studded boudoir somewhere in Texas, changing in and out of various exotic little outfits.
In fact, she pretty much constantly dancing through this entire Bedside Chat.
Unsurprisingly, Amber’s quarantine regimen involves a lot of workouts, both the serious and the seriously sexy kind.
We are the beneficiaries of Amber’s hard work as she writhes and slinks around the room.
Sheltering in place, she gives us the great 28th wedding anniversary visual gift of her hot little body.
Skimpy though her clothes be, she keeps them on throughout the official Bedside Chat broadcast.
Ooh la la!
As Amber dances, I whip Sunshine’s bunny-tailed booty with Goddess Phoenix’s whip, switched to orchid-purple for our 28th anniversary.
We’re masked, and at one point, Amber puts on a mask for us.
Actually, it’s more of a veil and makes her look like the quintessential harem girl.
The only member of our Bonoboville crew who was here when Amber was on the show is Mar, who makes a point of getting on camera (a rarity) to say hi to Amber.
After 15 years, Amber and Mar still have a special connection.
Then again, Amber expresses a distinct interest in Abe who also flirts with her via Zoom.
Though not a professional sex worker (Amber has a very straight job, and does her exotic dancing for the pure fun of it), Amber is an expert in the art of the tease.
She teases with her seductive words, but mostly she does it with that writhing hot body.
Post-show Amber is our dessert in a full banquet of absolutely delicious guests.
Cake, Maror & an Orgasmic Grand Finale
It’s no orgy like wedding anniversaries past, but flogging Sunshine’s bunny butt and juggling matzah balls is fun.
Then we all eat, drink and make merry—masked and six feet apart (maybe three feet).
We have an awesome cake, one of our all-time favorite cakes.
Photos: Harry Sapien
It looks especially provocative, like the perfect cake version of coitus a mammalia, when held at a certain angle.
Of course, the cock is made from a mold of Max’s penis, and the boobs are made from mine.
Fortunately, there are only two–not 28–candles, so between the two of us, we give it a good blowjob, snuffing out those flaming balls (which look nothing like orchids).
We don’t actually eat any of the anniversary cake.
However, I do munch on a mini cock cake (sometimes a small one is all you can stomach).
Why eat cake when you can have my heavenly haroseth?
Mar almost chokes on a spoonful of the maror (thinking it’s ice cream), and we all do our best to keep our physical distance.
Though you can’t eat or drink through a mask.
Such are the life-and-death quandaries of the Coronapocalypse.
One of the problems is that humans are very social animals, and we can’t completely seal ourselves off from each other.
Even if you live by yourself and never go out, you still probably have to receive packages that could contain the virus.
But that doesn’t mean you should give up and go out maskless; you just have to do the best you can.
Life is not perfect and death is around the corner and, as far as we know, resurrection is *just* the myth of the faithful, hopeful and clueless.
Indeed, the unclaimed COVID-19 dead bodies of American citizens are being piled into mass graves.
Photos: Sunshine McWane
But it’s our 28th wedding anniversary, and we’re feeling good—*blessed* in fact—and very turned on by our guests’ beauty, bubbles and flirtatious ass-shaking.
Just their presence makes for great presents!
I’m not saying we wouldn’t have had hot 28th wedding anniversary sex even without our guests’ gifts, but they helped us have a couple of our biggest orgasms ever.
Or maybe it just feels that way… but isn’t it all about how it feels?
Other couples might have billion-dollar bank accounts, million-Euro yachts or thousand-carat his-and-her diamond rings, but thanks to our love, trust and a hefty helping of lust—and maybe the Manischewitz and those stoner herbs—we have gazillion-watt, raise-the-rafters 28th-anniversary sex that no amount of money can buy—unless we’re talking about a lifetime supply of wine and cannabis.
Twenty-eight years is a long time, but they fly by like 28 seconds when you’re having fun, pursuing your passions with someone you love, trust and lust after.
In what feels like the flap of a butterfly’s wings as she lights upon a seductively testicular orchid, my darling Capt’n Max and I have gone from waltzing down the wedding aisle to coming together in isolation.
Some things just get better with age.
Happy Anniversary to us. And all of our bonobo love to you!
© April 12, 2020 Susan Block, Ph.D., a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” is a world renowned LA sex therapist, author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and horny housewife, occasionally seen on HBO and other channels. For speaking engagements, call 213-291-9497.
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