Excerpt from Connie's essay in DESIRE: Women Write About Wanting

It's Tuesday night, I'm in bed with Regular Guy, and I already know what's for dinner.  Meat. Potatoes. Meat. Potatoes. The head of his penis prods me in a familiar, been-together-long-enough-to-know-all-the-right-moves way as I raise my hips to meet it. Safe sex served medium-well in predictable portions satisfied me for a long time, but lately my mouth is set for rarer delicacies.
 

Realize Your Desire