Date: July 15, 2005 1:40:15 PM EDT
Dear American Vixen,
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Thank you for your enlightening article, "Loving Your Bod While It's Gettin' Some Lovin'." Like many of the women profiled in your article, I have recently begun to suspect that my negative body image is impacting my sex life. I often find myself distracted from the heights of sexual ecstasy by the vigorous wobbling of my thighs, for instance. I took your confidence-boosting pointers to heart (I'm one of your biggest fans!), but I’m a little unsure about the outcome.
On Friday, my man was caressing my torso and began to unbutton my jeans. I turned the lights to full blast so he could feast his eyes on my womanly bounty. "Touch me where the love handles spill out over my waistband," I said in a breathy whisper. While astride him, I called his attention to the fetching way my breasts bounced up and down, sometimes colliding like two heavenly orbs. On Tuesday, I asked him to smooth lotion on my calluses while singing "I'm F*ckin' You Tonite," by Notorious B.I.G. and R. Kelly.
For the past few nights, he's taken to showering immediately after dinner and falling asleep around 8:30. He says he's overworked and stressed out, but I'm beginning to wonder if my newfound confidence is putting him off. On Sunday, I plan to conquer my issues surrounding my stretch marks and the flabby undersides of my arms. If he doesn't respond, is it time to kick him to the curb?
Dear American Vixen,
An extremely detail-oriented person, I always follow your directions to the letter. So last week when my hombre and I began our regularly scheduled Sensual Time with full-body massages, we used the kumquat-eucalyptus oil featured in your May issue. The oil may have been partly to blame for what happened next, but I would also strongly advise your readers to undertake a course of stretching before attempting the "Enhanced Alpine Cowgirl" position featured on page 45 of your Extreme Summer Fun issue.
As instructed, I was riding my hombre in the reverse cowgirl position, pinching his left big toe with my right hand and reaching around with my left hand to stimulate his sensitive perineal area while yodeling at the top of my lungs in order to optimize my breathing. But just as we began to glimpse its shimmering apex around the corner, our lovemaking came to an unwelcome climax—a massive spasm that nearly dislodged one of my vertebrae. I was forced to take two personal days to recuperate, and, needless to say, my hombre’s manhood withered like a leaf of lettuce in the noonday sun.
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