Date Night... or "How I stopped worrying and learned to love pre-dinner sex"

That's right... I'm 40. I feel old. My body aches and makes noises on its own... I'm not 90... and I'm sure 90 year olds have and love sex too. This isn't a knock on age. I'm not an ageist. I have friends who are aged.

Wait, what?

Right...

I LOVE 2 things... Sex and food. Well, technically I love a lot of things... but I REALLY love sex and food. Not sex WITH food. But eating and getting my fuck on. The problem is - I'm not 20 anymore. Hell, I'm not even 30 anymore. I'm borderline old and not getting any younger. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to eat - both food and Lady Bourbon... But...

There's always a but. And that "but" is that sex is awesome... food is awesome... but sometimes too much food BEFORE sex is NOT awesome.

Let me just lay it out for you.

Her father's daughter - short story

It was the wind that bothered her most. It cut through the fabric of her clothing and clawed at her skin beneath. It made her feel the cold all the way to her bones. And she fucking hated being cold.

She wasn't sure why she was out here. Some misplaced sense of moral responsibility? Some life-debt to a man who kept betraying her trust again and again and again... She just couldn't fathom why she stood here, shoulder to shoulder with the three people she'd swore never to see again.

When the coroner moved the sheet and displayed the face, none of that mattered.

Paul's lifeless body looked up, cold, white, and lifeless from the edge of the field. He'd been stripped of every stitch of clothing. Bruises and scrapes marred his body from the neck down. She shook her head slowly from side to side as she looked at him. No, not him... his body. His empty shell of a body. Devoid of a soul now in death as his soul had been devoid of emotion in life. An empty shell that once housed an empty soul.

"Yeah." She finally said. "That's Paul Becker."
"You're sure."
"I'm fucking sure." She said. "Can I go now?"
"Sure." The cop said. "Just leave your info with officer Smith in case we need to reach you."
"Whatever, man."

Kelly turned and walked away. Debbie and Mark turned and walked with her towards their waiting cars. She did not speak as she walked. She thrust her hands deeper into her pockets and willed herself to be warm.

Anxiety - A Guest Post by Lady Bourbon

We're back with another amazing guest author post... 

Today's Guest post doesn't need an introduction... I've done that already here.

ANXIETY

A Guest Post by Lady Bourbon

It was a dark and stormy night...

Actually, no, it wasn't. It was beautiful, sunny, and unseasonably warm for October. It was only dark and stormy inside my head, but the whole world might as well have been covered in in darkness as far as I was concerned at the moment.

So, I'm standing there, in my kitchen, trying to find the will to walk out my door and go to the sarlaac pit I call work. I was staring out the window at the garage. I was alone. The kids were at school and Bourbon was at work. I thought, maaaaaaaybe I could just... quit.


Not my job... My life.


No more work. No more overbearing mom. No more fear that every tiny thing I do is being judged and picked apart. No more feeling like a failure. That sounded pretty damn nice. Then, my mind wandered... as my mind is wont to do. I thought about ways to achieve this state of restful bliss.

Dude looks like a lady...

So... let's do some honesty therapy, shall we?

One night in, probably 2005(?) I got to dress in drag for a party. Complete with makeup... and that shit was hot. I think it is safe to say that since that moment, I've held a small, but growing desire to wear that type of outfit again.

Women are lucky... if they're feeling down or sad - they can spruce up with makeup. A little eyeliner, some blush, a little lipstick... bam. All the tiredness is gone. Men - we have to look good with soap, poorly managed beards, and... that's about it.

This weekend Lady Bourbon and I tried something new... She went to the store and picked me out a nice top and some very nice satin panties to match the skirt she gave me. We went out to dinner in normal, gender approved clothing... with the exception of the purple, satin panties I wore under my jeans... They felt amazing.

Lady Bourbon

I call her "Lady Bourbon" because she is the other half of what makes me whole. I do not like to call her "My wife" because it sounds possessive. A mutual friend only refers to his spouse as "My wife" in conversation and that drives me fucking insane. She's not property, man... she's your partner.  Lady Bourbon is a force of nature and she chooses to be with me, and I with her. We are partners in life. Have been ALMOST since we met... She's been a model, muse, lover, wife, and, most important, a  friend... and I would never want it any other way...

In February of 2004 I returned from my final tour in Iraq... In June of 2004 I moved back to my apartment on campus and returned to school for the summer session in hopes of getting "reacclimatized" to civilian life before the rush of Freshmen in the fall... I thought it would be good for me to be there with LESS people.

I was right... and wrong.

Being there with less people was nice, but it also meant I spent a lot of time at the bar drinking to forget my final tour in Iraq... or spending a lot of time on my couch with a bottle of something doing the same thing for less and with greater quantities. And drank I did.

When I was at a low point during the following winter I started to keep an online journal. I tried to reach out into the void of the internet and see if anyone was there who felt the same way about life. That's when I stumbled upon the future Lady Bourbon.

Being a Douchebag on the internet...

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from Douchebag Dave on Twitter.

Dave asks:

Dr. BourbonSex,
"What are you doing on my timeline, leftist fucktard?"

Love and kisses,
Douchebag Dave

Dear Dave... Or is it Douchebag Dave? Can I just call you Douchebag?  I think I am just going to call you Douchebag...  Dear Douchebag,

Dr. Bourbon and The Antivaxx Trail...

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from B.J. Black

B.J. asks:

Dr. Bourbon Sex... and Coffee:

How should I react when anti-vaxxers ask for advice to keep their kids safe when there is a measles (or other illness that vaccines can prevent) outbreak?

Dear B.J.,

What a good question. Let me tell you - I have no shortage of Anti-Vax people on my Facebook feed, so I've actually had this argument before. And every time it ends with the same thing - me, slamming my head against my desk at the outright stupidity of people who, up until 5 minutes ago, I thought were sane, mildly intelligent people. Okay no... that's not true.

That's me in the corner...

I'm in a bit of a funk these days. And not the normal, anxiety-induced, worrisome funk... but more of an "I'm feeling old, worthless, and in a shitty time loop" kinda funk. Being February, I feel it's very much Groundhogs day. Every day. I am Bill Murray, but without the option of dropping the toaster into my bathtub.

We've all seen Groundhogs Day, right? The guy wakes up and every day it's the same day over and over and over and over again... Same premise-ish as Happy Death Day and Russian Doll on Netflix. The difference is, these people have the same day over and over, but with no consequences of the actions they choose every day. Want to end a bad day by driving off a bridge with an angry groundhog? NO PROBLEM! Want to drop a toaster in your bathtub due to the extreme amount of stress and seeming worthlessness of life? See you in the morning!

I feel this movie has left me wanting.

Every day for me is like this. But without an out. The closest I have to a re-set is alcohol. I can at least drink myself into a deep sleep that, somewhat, gives me a fresh start the next day by wiping the mental slate clean.

It sucks. I'm sorry. There's no better way to put it. It. Sucks.

The Call Of Nature A @BourbonSex Erotic Short Story

The Call Of Nature

A @BourbonSex Erotic Short Story

    "It's called camping. Not hoteling." Josh said as he led Emily through the undergrowth in the woods. "Of course there are bugs. You don't hear me bitching about it."
     "You're not human." Emily said smugly. "Mosquitos, as far as I know, want nothing to do with you."

   "Yes, well. There is that." He moved a few branches and ushered her through. "Ta da." He announced with a smile.
     "Oh." Emily said with a start. "Oh, this is quite lovely."
     "Yeah. I thought you might say that."
     He moved ahead into the clearing. It was about 50 meters of open, grassy area surrounded by trees on all sides. A small, hollowed out ring of stones sat the in the center of it all with a large stack of neatly cut wood nearby.
     "This is where I go when I want to get away from everything." Josh said, dropping his bag on the ground. "Let's get set up and I'll show you what it means to 'be in the field'."
     "Uh, sure."

Mark and Emily A @BourbonSex Erotic Short Story

A @BourbonSex Erotic Short Story: Mark and Emily

     The night was finally here. It's something that he'd thought about often. It excited him. It made him anxious. It made him feel very sexy.
     He didn't go all out on his first time. A simple outfit of blouse and skirt with makeup and a pair of his wife's panties.
     The door opened and Mark stepped out into the light. His eyes, rimmed in dark eye-liner, shone in the soft light of the room. Gentle hints of rouge marked his cheeks and his lips were a soft, glossy mauve color. He worked his face into a smile. His hair was done up in a loose configuration of spikes, held out with gel, and his stubble was short and manicured against his chin. He was nervous, but took a deep breath and relaxed. The silk fabric of the shirt he wore felt good against his skin and the warm air circulating and lifting under the black skirt he wore felt good against his legs. His cock was gently stuffed into a pair of silk panties that hugged him everywhere.

     And he loved it.