A few months ago, Nana blogged about the ramifications and complications of dating a sexuality blogger. What do you share; what do you not share; should the person at the time be worried you’re going to expose every encounter? Nowhere are these complications more worrisome than when the blogger is entrenched in the institution of marriage.
The constant questioning of what you did with whom when, is exhausting. The worst part is the constant comparing between my former partners and him. It’s part of the reason I blog so sparingly. I know, I know. I shouldn’t let the haters stop me. But then my husband threw me a bone. He told me I should blog about the most thrilling sexual encounter he and I had shared. Personally, I’d rather not talk about my married sex life, but with his blessing, I will share this:
My husband and I once had sex for seven hours. Obviously, this was before we had children, since our love making currently lasts an efficient 20 minutes or so. Our seven hour stint was the week after we got married, and the only CD I had in the player was Gypsy Kings. To this day I can’t listen to Volarie without feeling a little dirty.
Getting into the details of a seven hour sex binge in written form would be exhaustive, so let me just say there was a lot of touching, a lot of groping, and even more penetration. Obviously I’m not comfortable sharing the finer details concerning the manner of sex that I have with my husband and it’s none of your business anyway. 🙂
I do want to add one last thing, however. Nana and I have been criticized recently, having been told that there was “not much African about our blog, save the names of our guest contributors”. So here are some things that made my seven hour sexual encounter with hubby more “African”.
I said/moaned/cried the following:
Hopes this makes the critics happy and restores our integrity.