Last weekend, in the penthouse of an upscale, downtown hotel, I attended my first sex party. Fair enough, I thought. I was skeptical. How amazing could the participants of a paid orgy really be, even if it was invite-only? How unfair.
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We laughed. But this night was different, and the difference was with me. I was suddenly super sensitive to touch and unselfconscious about my jiggly post-kid bod, and — how do I put this politely? And then it kept happening. Every time I had a higher-dose five- to milligram THC edible, I felt friskier and enjoyed sex more, which was a marked improvement on my usual late-forties state of rarely feeling frisky at all.
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It felt as if that night wouldn't pass. I had a throbbing headache and couldn't stop crying. I don't remember when I slept off. I woke up to find my husband standing in front of my bed with last night's question: "So, what have you decided? Is your answer yes or no?
When I tell other men about my bestie, they feel intimidated because he has a key to my apartment. We are not dating; we just have sex sometimes, and everyone that I try to be with knows about him. Must I give up on my bestie to be with the man I love even though Bestie and I promised each other that we will never break our bond for anyone?