Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Mom Going to a Strip Club With Her Husband: Female, 25, graphic and web designer, Malta, bisexual, married (to a man).
10:30 a.m. Wake up. It’s late, and the baby is climbing over me. No time for sex, I guess, since it’s my turn to go to the office.
Noon I’m feeling amazing as I’m driving down the road; having one of those days where you feel all James Bond–like weaving through traffic like nobody’s business. Check out a tall skinny tanned girl in a see-through maxi skirt. Lucky her, going to the beach. I could offer her a ride, maybe get a drink …
3:20 p.m. I check my calendar and realize tomorrow is our anniversary. This means all-night, balls-to-the-wall sex. Awesome.
3:21 p.m. I realize tomorrow is Tuesday. UGH. Anniversary in the middle of the week? Mood ruined. Too early in the week to postpone it until the weekend.
3:30 p.m. The husband is at home with the baby today while I’m at work; he lets me know on Skype that he’s got a €100 hidden away for us. I remember he promised to buy me sex toys. Maybe I’ll buy some nipple clamps? I start to think of all the kinky things I could buy but won’t because we’re just not there yet. I’m on one end of the spectrum of weird, and he’s on the other end, where there are rainbows and sunshine. Meeting in the middle is a lot of work.
3:34 p.m. Back to business talk … oh well, no one can see me squeezing my thighs together under the desk. Should have worn those ben wa balls. Definitely. I want the loud ones; I want people to be like “What the hell is that jingling noise?” as I walk by. Okay, back to work now.
6:30 p.m. I get home; the baby is asleep, and I’m hoping for some playtime. I make my move … and I’m rebuffed. The husband is in a mood. And now the baby has woken up. Oh well. I take off my skirt and hope he’s taken the hint for later, but I’m really not sure he has. Back to work it is then. He’s always more stressed at the end of the month.
9:30 p.m. The husband tells me to get undressed. Finally! I’m more than happy to comply, and I’m rewarded by having each arm tied firmly to each leg. I’m happy to be completely immobilized and in such an exposed position, but the lights are on full, and I’m fully exposed. All the insecurities about my stomach, breasts, vagina, etc., are flooding through my head. God, I wish I had shaved down there this morning. This really cannot be flattering. He starts spanking me, and I’m back to being happier than my cat after she sits in my cereal bowl.
9:45 p.m. I’ve mostly forgotten all about how I look; he’s pounding me in that harsh way that I love so much. I know what’s coming next, and he’s been generous with the lube this time, but I still tense up when he goes for anal. Oh my god, is he putting an ice cube in my butt? WTF? He’s turned me to the side so I can’t even give him an evil look. The ice cube … it’s incredible, the stinging pain and cool wetness; I remember the hot wax from last week and start coming.
10:30 p.m. After three orgasms, my brain is so melted that I’m beyond happy with the anal play, and he knows it. Seeing him so excited turns me on even more; he’s normally quiet during sex, and now he’s being so vocal. I tell him I’m his anal slut, and he pinches my nipples until I come again.
11 p.m. We cuddle. I curl up next to him and nuzzle into his chest. I’m submissive during sex, but this is the only bit of submission he’ll see from me afterward.
12:30 a.m. He’s gone downstairs to work. I’m horny again. I take two sleeping pills and masturbate quickly before I can blissfully pass out.
9 a.m. Husband made some comment about me preplanning sex and not being spontaneous. I’m angry because he’s totally oblivious to my hints, and with a 9-month-old baby, most men would be happy that I make a concentrated effort to have sex every day. I’m feeling very bitter and trying not to start a fight.
2:30 p.m. Back home, baby taking a nap. I could do a bit of work, or I could clean … or I could watch some hard-core porn. I’m going with porn. I’m really horny, and I can’t wait till we drink a bottle of wine tonight. Anal strap-on lesbians it is, then. I miss women sometimes; they are just so much sexier than men. Just gotta remember to delete the history when I’m done; we’re close, but not close enough for this kind of kink.
9 p.m. Everything is conspiring against my vagina tonight.
1:30 a.m. Ugh, I don’t think we’re having sex. I’ve been promised a trip to the strip club on the weekend and sex toys at the end of the month, but WTF happened? The day started out so promising, and now it’s 1:30 in the morning, I’m still awake and still unpenetrated. Whatever. I’ve taken a few sleeping pills; my turn at the office tomorrow, so I can sleep in.
3 a.m. Insomnia. I had searched through a sex-toy website looking for things to buy and hoping to entice the husband. Bust attempt at both; they won’t ship to this island, and he’s looking at Google Analytics. I try to read, and suddenly he’s all over me. I never say no to sex, unless I’m literally on the verge of puking or crapping myself, but I’m not really enthused here. He’s being rough, but even that isn’t getting me in the mood. Twenty minutes later, we’re cuddling, and I eventually drift off.
8:15 p.m. Put the baby to bed, and I’m buying sex toys from a company I know ships to this island. Glass dildos, here I come.
9 p.m. Purchase a glass dildo, bondage rope, silicone lube, and chocolate body paint. Now I’m hungry. The husband has sent me a message inviting me for a massage upstairs. Still not in the mood, but whatever, at least it’s something. He knows I hate the shouting.
10:50 p.m. I really want my mood to change; he took a bath and is inviting me to join him. I can’t focus on work now anyway, and I’m just reading light erotica.
11 p.m. Instead of having sex, we’re now fighting. Him about me needing sex more than him and how it feels like a duty and obligation, me about how I don’t understand how he doesn’t see how hurtful this is. I’m so upset, I just shut down and stare at him blankly. He informs me this is part of the problem — I’m too cold.
12:30 a.m. Keep on arguing until I see a government paper in the mail which, accidentally, has given him my last name. I crack up laughing at how it now looks like he took my last name, which amuses me since I refused to take his. He starts laughing too, and the baby wakes up before anything else can happen.
1:20 a.m. Baby goes back to sleep, and I go back to the room. The husband is fast asleep. Sigh. Too frazzled to try to get off. I go to sleep.
10:30 a.m. I go take a shower since the baby decided to take an early nap. Things are still a bit distant. He gets over an argument way faster than I do, although I’m generally keener to drop the subject.
10:45 a.m. I walk back into the room, and he asks me to come over and look at something. As I do, he grabs me and pulls me down to the bed and starts going down on me. This is normally my favourite kind of surprise, but all I can think of is that he’s doing this because he feels he has to and not because he wants to, which makes it really difficult to be enthusiastic. But damn he’s talented.
11 a.m. I start fantasizing about a lesbian slave-and-master relationship, the 24–7 kind. I don’t want him to think I’m not turned on and start another argument about it. I quickly get really wet and have a massive orgasm, where I haven’t even realized how loud I’m being because it was so damn good. He put special effort into touching all my special places.
11:20 a.m. He climbs on top of me and starts doing me in missionary position. I’m not a big fan of missionary position, and I can’t bring myself to touch him like I normally do. My hands are limp, and I know he knows. I can’t help it; I don’t know how to express hurt besides shutting down and being distant.
9 p.m. We’re cuddling. I like cuddling. Neither of us is feeling too great. I’m in a better mood, so I give him the present for our anniversary. I don’t see any sex happening tonight.
2 a.m. Sleep equals bliss.
5 p.m. Husband picks me up from the hairdresser’s and keeps telling me how hot I look. I’ve dyed my hair red and pink, which he was against in the first place, but now he’s raving how it brings out the green in my eyes. I am incredibly pleased. I know he’s horny now. Unfortunately, I also just did a stretch-mark treatment on my stomach and happen to look like a very sore lobster, but you can’t win them all.
7:15 p.m. Husband is panicking over a work website being down. Sigh. This is the one instance where I know any mention of sex will be met with a lot of cursing. I go take care of the baby while he figures this out and stay out of his way.
1 a.m. He’s solved the problem but has to rebuild a massive portion of the site. I’m not even gonna bring up sex. We cuddle for a bit, and I will my brain to let me sleep for once.
4 a.m. Three sleeping pills later, I’m still awake. Damn dogs chewing on a plastic bottle. ARGH. Shout at them to stop it and decide to masturbate. An orgasm always makes me sleepy.
10 a.m. My mum comes to pick up the baby; she agreed to babysit for a few hours. I was planning on watching some porn and then cleaning, but the husband is still in bed, so I go slide in next to him.
10:15 a.m. He starts panicking about the time and being late to a meeting, but I see he’s got some morning wood going on, so I badger him for a quickie. I know he’s not going to turn me down, and he doesn’t disappoint.
10:30 a.m. Actually having a really hard time getting into it, but he comes and rushes off. Before he leaves the room, he tosses me a vibrator and gives me permission to finish myself off, not like I need it. I shrug and decide against it; there’s always tonight after the clubs.
11 p.m. Getting drunk.
1 a.m. Thankfully, we live a five-minute walk from the clubbing area; I have yet to learn that walking uphill in high heels isn’t fun.
1:30 a.m. We’re both dancing on poles on the platforms of this club. I’m wearing a short dress, and I know I’m being stared at but not for long, cause the husband is now backflipping on the dance floor, and let’s just say, all the attention has been diverted to him. I’m getting turned on watching him. He’s an amazing dancer, and it reminds me that his dancing was the main reason I agreed to go out with him in the first place.
2:30 a.m. We go to the first strip club, where I’m friendly with most of the girls. Get lots of hugs and kisses. I love the smoothness of a woman’s skin. Husband asks if I want a lap dance now. I motion to get a few more drinks first.
3:15 a.m. We start walking to the strip club I used to work at. I note that their renovation of the place has made it look ridiculously grey and depressing, like a Victorian-era coal-mine brothel, if that’s a thing, which I don’t think it is. Husband gets close to me, and suddenly I feel some vibrations. He’s brought the mini-vibrator with him and has slipped it under my dress, for a few moments of teasing pleasure.
2:30 a.m. We’re back in the first club, getting lap dances, me with my usual girl, him with another whose face I don’t register. I’m too focused on what’s happening in front of me to take notice of her.
5:30 a.m. We’re up in the bedroom; he was teasing me with the vibrator all the way home, and I am just so ready to be screwed hard. He tells me to go dress up in a lacy teddy. After a bit of fooling around, he flips me over and starts entering my butt, which hurts, and I think I’m blacking out a little here.
6:10 a.m. Suddenly he’s asking me to be the dominant one this time. I’m a bit confused, but in the haze of vodka, I go along with it. I slip a finger up his ass. He looks like he doesn’t know whether he’s enjoying it or not, or he’s trying not to enjoy it.
6:30 a.m. I keep fingering him, until he asks me to stop. He looks upset and starts freaking out that he doesn’t want this to happen, that it feels good but wrong, and he’s sorry he can’t fulfill all my needs. I sober up enough to calm him down. I tell him not to freak out, I don’t need a submissive man, I prefer to be the sub. And even though I miss being with a woman, I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by being just with him. I’m saddened that this is even a concern for him.
7 a.m. Pass out.
11 p.m. Hung-over. Horny, but way too tired to even think about anything. Sleep …
TOTALS: One ice cube in an inappropriate location; two acts of anal sex; one anal-probing given; one act of oral sex given; two acts of oral sex received; five acts of regular intercourse; one BDSM scene; three solo masturbation sessions; one lap dance received; one public use of a vibrator; one big fight.
Would you like to take part in the glorious tradition that is the New York Magazine sex diaries? Just send an e-mail to email@example.com with your contact information and why you think you’d make a good diarist. If you’ve got what it takes, we’ll be in touch!