Naughty Words – Being A Sex Writer With A College-Aged Son In The House
I’m deliriously happy. My twenty-one year old son has moved in with my husband and I. Yay! He was living with his dad for the past three years while going to college but those two are like oil and water. The differences finally came to a head and my son fled to move in with me. I won’t go into detail except to say I fled that state sixteen years ago to get away from my ex-husband because he drank and he was verbally and emotionally abusive during our seven and a half year marriage. I fled to protect myself and my son, since we moved together. Judging from what my son says, he hasn’t changed much. In fact, I think he got worse.
The worst is over. My son is in a safe and happy home now. Good!
I should have seen something was up when my son came here to stay with us for the summer, but he brought along all his clothes, all his computer gack, and all his games. It reminded me of all those “Gilligan’s Island” reruns where they went on a three-hour tour but the Professor brought all his books, the Howells brought all their money, and Ginger brought all her gowns. My son was planning to stay all along but didn’t know how to approach us. We told him several times that we’d love for him to move in with us and he finally took us up on that offer. Now we’ll give him a place to relax and decompress from three years of stress with his dad. No pressure for awhile, at least the entire summer.
He made it up here so fast we didn’t have much of a chance to clean up. We still haven’t vacuumed and there’s enough cat fur on the carpet to make another cat. My books are strewn all over the floor and so are lots of sex toys in their boxes that need to be reviewed. My Magic Wand is plugged into its home at the base of the couch, but he hasn’t said a word about it. That Wand looks like a massage tool rather than a sex toy anyway so it’s unlikely he’s said anything. Luckily I took all the sex toys that look like gigantic rubber penises and put them in boxes in the closet.
I work every day on sex toys descriptions and on erotic fiction with my son sitting right next to me playing Metroid Prime. If he has noticed the pictures of leather male body harnesses, chastity belts, or cock rings on the web sites I work for he hasn’t said anything. But I catch him glancing over at the computer. I couldn’t read his poker face but I caught a grin here and there. Most likely he doesn’t care, but it can be quite a mine field to walk on when trying to talk about my latest erotic story with my husband when my son is sitting next to me. I wanted to talk about my latest erotic story, a zombie erotic romance called “Dead Meat”, but I was afraid to go into too much detail about how semen from vegan men tastes much sweeter and more pleasant than semen from meat eaters. I took that fact and applied it to my story, saying that human vegan flesh tastes sweeter to zombies than your average cow-chomping carnivorous human’s flesh. All of that would have been TMI (Too Much Information) for my son, even if he is an adult now. He’s so easily embarrassed.
The last time he came up here for Christmas vacation I handed him a paperback of one of my erotic novels. He was reluctant to touch it, saying it had “naughty words” in it. So I decided if I ever had another sex writing column I’d call it “Naughty Words”.
Well¦ here goes. 🙂
I’m a sex writing mom with a college-aged son, a very supportive husband, and four cats that keep us entertained. Now that my son is living with us full-time, life’s going to get very interesting around here.