Description
Sexual Exploration…Not just rediscovery, but a journey all anew, well beyond where even normal mortals fear to tread into an unusual sexual exploration phase where it seemed I was willing to ‘double up to catch up’ to regain and achieve my lifetime allotment of sexual exploits, romps, and whoopie. An unusual path through uncharted waters; oddly enough comfortable confirming “There’s a reason our world has fewer lesbians: it’s called female fluidity.” And that’s not just because I can squirt with the best of them, but instead it turns out I’m willing to explore all my options available to meet my newfound sexual needs, no longer completely confined by any obvious gender bias. A journey from practically asexual to ascending quickly upward into the heavens with my sights set upon achieving holy hell sex goddess status. All while battling menopausal challenges and mundane celibate married life, blossoming into the brilliant red, glowing Rose attempting to strip off her inhibitions (often times with her clothes) in the most unlikely circumstances. Who knew memory loss likely associated with early-onset dementia could result in an increased sexual responsiveness in an otherwise fit and active post-menopausal body? An otherworldly vacation from my otherwise previous quarter century of self-imposed sexless marriage.-Just how far will this double book take us on this sexual journey? Turns out from the sexless wasteland that is Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (HSDD/HSDS/Whatever nom de moment Lacking Sexual Desire moniker the latest DSM comes up with) well past normal sex into the realms of potentially the complete opposite of no sex: too much rumpy bumpy.Covering this degree of situations, this collection of short stories, recollections, and far-too-much honesty and unbelievable non-fiction – can be broken down into some major sections:Relationships: Bad News Bare, Best Wife Ever, Changing the Past, Cool Wife, Foot in Mouth Disease, Photo Display Disarray, Vacations are Overrated, Window of Opportunity;Desire Disorder (Low Sexual Desire): Everything Old is New Again, HSDD Health Hazard, Oral Sextant;Complete Lack of Sexual Desire: Ace in My Hole, Asexual Antipathy, Naked Attraction, Sexual Intimacy Resuscitation (SIR), Wrong Beginning; Sexual Anatomy, Physiology, Menopause and Aging: Female Coital Vocalization (FCV) Response/Reflex, Memory Shits on a Sex Goddess, Pink Ribbon Brigade Strikes Back, Side-Roasted, Squirtology 102, Violating the Natural Order, Visual Incongruity;Transitions to Normal Sexuality: 100 Condoms, Butterfly Effect, Cum Drunk – Sex Intoxication, Mystery Me, Rosie-Lou Who? My Waterloo Moments, Sex Addict, Sex Diary, Zeitgeist Anti-Rose;Exploratory Phase – a step beyond “Normal” heteronormative sexuality: Bite Me in the Butt, Conquering Compersion, Dynamic Duo, Hallway to Hell, Tinkling Temblor, Drippy Dick Disconnect, Foreplay, Mushroom Hunter, Pleasure Principle, Taking 1-2-3 for the Team, Team Sports.Plus there’s a healthy helping of various bonus bits (some photographically illustrated), in addition to the omnipresent “Truth and Consequences” background to practically every entry (no matter how much it might pain me at times to admit just how honest some of this material truly is). To say the least, it’s a lot of information to cover. And oddly enough, not only was I the woman to do it, my post-menopausal privates (although obviously much less private than when all this started) not only rose to the occasion, but reveled in it. And I’m sure one day I’ll stop walking with a bowlegged gait. (At least being a real small town cowgirl, most folks just presume I’m recently returned from going back to the farm to visit. Now if only I can remember to stop correcting them by saying, “Oh no, that’s because I haven’t had my knees together much lately. My folks sold the farm years ago.” (You can take the HSDD out of the woman, but you can’t take the lack of TMI out of a dementia challenged brain.)
About Rose Maru
Born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away… no, wait, that wasn’t me, but sometimes it certainly seems like it. Before getting into all the fun details, I want to clear the air of a rather large aspect of my writing because it has a huge impact on my work: I have HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome). In fact, if it weren’t for my HSDS, I wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t be there reading this – my previously unpublished writings were explorations into kick-starting my, ahem, ‘motor.’ I tried to explore anything that might cause a little tingle below, even ideas and concepts my thinking brain refused to hear. Creating an alter-ego in my stories allowed me to safely penetrate the veil of non-existence – I was forced to think about sexy thoughts and situations. I wrote for years covering a wide range of topics, my husband providing a large number of seedlings from which to grow my stories (HSDS… what do you expect? Much to my dismay, what I learned to expect was very raunchy pillow-talk. Much to his dismay, he learned to expect me to leap from bed saying, “Oh! That is so good, I’ve got to write it down!”). It turns out, writing romantic erotica usually wasn’t doing it for me. I gave up on it for a period of time – in essence, I gave up trying to help myself, as well. Then my significant’s bright idea: if it didn’t help me, maybe it would help someone else. I was back to writing again, or more correctly, preparing my work for release unto an unsuspecting public (I have now officially absolved myself from any evil that befalls you after reading my books – it’s all his fault). So I dredged up my folder of rough and unpolished stories – damn, I wrote this much? No wonder I wasn’t having sex, I was busy writing about it. (Fib alert: so not true it’s not funny. Not the ‘not having sex’ part, but the lack of bedroom action wasn’t really due to my writing.) An odd thing happened, though, as I was rereading my material and editing it. I felt a little something that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I actually felt a little tingle from down below. That soft little call, while editing some stories, started to get a little louder – still very quiet, but it was most certainly there where it hadn’t been for decades. I gave in to the siren call almost immediately – surprised the hell out of my husband (thank goodness it wasn’t the UPS guy at the door during those moments). Complete, spontaneous, due-to-my-doing rumpy-bumpy. Holy humper, Batman, I’m fixed! I wish. It disappeared again, just as easily slipping back into my ‘normal abnormal’ routine of never thinking about it within hours. Back to editing. Being the patient sort, I allowed myself to edit a whole three paragraphs before anguish sets in, “It’s not working! Ah! I’m broken forever!” Luckily, I have a never say die attitude (Fib alert: … no, wait, this isn’t my stories where I have to include a ‘truth’ section – let me have my freaking moment), and said, “Piss on it, I’m still going to release my work. I’ve come this far.” And so it went – although much to my joy (and my hubby’s) – every so often, I’d find myself showing such obvious responses to passages, it was apparent to even an HSDS girl – and we’d make joy (sometimes several times) to the situation. I wasn’t fixed, but at least I had a crutch. Which leaves me editing my old material, exploring new, and tormenting you with it – where I hope it does you some good, too. If it can’t make you happy that way, I hope it’ll at least provide you a little laugh the other way – especially since I do provide a ‘Truth and Consequences’ side to all my stories at the end of each book where I detail the nitty-gritty and harsh reality of every piece. This allows everyone’s inner voyeur to be released because my HSDS does a great job of preventing me from grasping ‘TMI,’ so I tend to spill my guts back there in my books. As for my bio (side note: doesn’t that make it an ‘auto-bio?’), I’m a cute, twenty-one year-old (Fib Alert! Oh my Lord! If you’re writing fantasy-fiction, at least make it believable!) – crap, okay, fine, I’m old enough to probably be your sister – from a second marriage – so we’re not blood related, which means you don’t have to get all weirded out about reading sex stuff about me) – and I live in the Pacific Northwest where I am still happily married to my first husband (very funny – he edits my other fibs so I have to tell the truth, but leaves the happily married one)… at least until he reads the final published product where I changed the truth section in every book back to being brutally honest contrary to his corrections. And, yes, that is me on the cover of all my books, but I’m not spilling the beans here, you have to read the book.
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