A few weeks ago it suddenly occurred to me that I might not be allergic to latex condoms after all. I realized the one time I tried them and they gave me a bad pussy burn I wasn’t using the fab lube I use now (KY Liquibeads). So this might not be a latex issue. It might just be a lube issue. Too cool!

I was totally jazzed about this cause I’ve never been crazy about the poly condoms Wes and I use (Trojan Supra). The polyurethane material pinches my pussy, and it burns Wes’s dick. Not fun.

Since Wes always complains about a lack of sensitivity with the poly condoms (even though they’re reallllllly thin) I bought the thinnest latex condoms I could find…Trojan Ultra-Thin. Much to my delight they were as thin and transparent as the Supras.

Alrightyyyy!

First, an update. I’d like to announce my agent and I have parted on friendly terms. He’s a great guy. Really. And he wants only the best for me. But he’s also verrrrrry busy. Too busy to give my career the time and attention an agent should for one of his authors.

That means at this moment I’m agent-less and LOVING it! I’ve become the living version of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Freebird.” Yeah, I’m free as a bird, and this slutty bird ain’t gonna change.

Alrightyyyy!

Besides, Kittyfeather Press is publishing my books again and doing a great job marketing and publicizing the new vamp series, so I really don’t need an agent right now. I’ve got two publishers, Kittyfeather Press and Magicomm Media. Plus, I’m slammed with book contracts through the next 5 years (which I had before I hooked up with my agent last summer).

First, an announcement. If you’re not on my email list (and why aren’t you? *LOL) and you come to this blog every week to read my blog posts, then I’m sure you were surprised when I didn’t post on Monday.

That’s because I mentioned in the February issue of my newsletter last week that I’m making a change on my blog. I’ve been working 7 days a week until 2:00am every morning on “A Vampire’s Kiss.” It’s coming along beautifully. But after keeping this schedule for 2 months I’m having a hard time knowing what day it is. They’re all the same now and kinda blending together. So I made a decision last week. I’m deep in the novel at this point, which means my brain cells are not always happy about switching gears. I’ve decided instead of posting on my blog every Monday/Wednesday/Friday, I’m just going to post on Tuesday and Thursday of each week. That will give me an extra day to work on the novel and should help me finish it on time. But don’t worry. The people on my email list will still get email notifications from me on Tuesday and Thursday when the blog posts go up. There will just be two every week now instead of three.

Okay, back to the subject of this blog post. I was talking to my agent last week, and I mentioned Wes had been complaining about how expensive it is to have good sex after 50.

Thursday night Wes surprised me by walking into my office. Yes, that’s unusual. Wes is the kinda guy who can’t wait to get off computer so he can dash downstairs, get something to eat for dessert (like yogurt or nuts), and park his ass in his reclining chair to watch sports on TV.

Imagine my surprise when he walked back upstairs and appeared in my office at 9:00pm.

“Look what the yogurt did to me.” He flips down the front of his sweatpants, and his hard dick pops out.

Wes and I were supposed to have one of our frisky sex dates on Sunday afternoon. Before that, he’d spent Friday and Saturday in Charleston at a reunion for his old college basketball team. But when he got back to Columbia on Sunday morning he didn’t feel so good.

In fact his intestinal tract was such an unhappy camper he didn’t even go to the gym to ride the bike like he usually does on Sundays. So there was no way he felt like pounding my wet pussy with his Viagra-hard dick.

Bummer!

However, I was not about to let him off the hook that easily. The man may run from me on a regular basis, but he can’t hide for long. This slut likes sex (and lots of it!), and I will NOT be denied.

Finally, after three looooooong weeks, Wes was recovered enough for us to set a sex date for Sunday afternoon.

Yessssssss….! Okay, I was really excited. *horny grin*

Plus, Wes had been to his doc to learn the results of his latest tests. What can I say? The man is totally into running tests on Wes and does so every few months. Anyway, it turns out Wes’s testosterone levels are still way low. So his doc told him I needed to shoot Wes up with 2 mls of testosterone every three weeks now instead of once a month. Hey, works for me! *sex-obsessed grin*

It’s been freakin’ freezing in Columbia for six weeks now. Yeesh! We never have weather that cold for this long. Thankfully, the sun’s been shining most of the time, and the wind has been minimal.

Still, this is the worst allergy season of the year (pigweed, dog fennel, ragweed), so about 80% of the people in South Carolina are coming down with that nasty coughing cold Wes got. Fortunately, he’s recovering after seven miserable days. He’s still coughing a bit, but his sinuses are finally clearing up.

Wes and I were on the way to the grocery store after lunch on Sunday when I got fed up with his cranky mood. I mean, the man had just spent three days in Santee playing great golf with his buddies. You’d think after a fun vacation he’d be in a relaxed, happy mood, right?

Wrong. He returned to Columbia on Saturday night a few hours after my booksigning. And all he’d done since then was complain about how tired he was.

Wes is going out of town on another golfing trip this weekend. That means he’ll be gone when I’m supposed to give him his second testosterone shot. So we decided to do it last night.

When Wes finishes up on computer after dinner, I ask, “Are you ready?”

“No,” he replies, grimacing. “I’m terrified.”

Sunday afternoon I had a sex date with Wes. You know me. I was totally looking forward to it and READY to fuck! *horny grin*

But Wes had spent four days eating turkey sandwiches at his fav bar over the holidays. Of course, this wasn’t your normal turkey. Nah, this was one of those turkeys deep-fried in peanut oil, something people love to do down here in the Deep South (The Land of Strokes & High Blood Pressure). Oh, and he’d been drinking vodka with those sandwiches, too. Not what his A-Fib heart condition would consider the “ideal diet.” Not even close.

So Sunday afternoon his pulse was erratic. Gee, I’m shocked. Not!