Sexuality is In My Soul

I’ve always been sexual. While I don’t believe anyone is born a hotwife, I can definitely say there were some early signs or some might say neon lights indicating the path I would eventually travel.

One of my earliest recollections is of my mother leaning over me at bedtime and gently telling me to “stop rubbing myself.” I can’t have been more than three-years-old.

Looking back at my childhood, I realize that I must have masturbated myself to sleep nightly. I’m grateful my mother didn’t scold, shame, or humiliate me for my behavior. As an elementary school teacher, she must have recognized and accepted my self-soothing technique for what it was. She was ahead of her time. Thanks, mom.

I learned how to pleasure myself at an early age.

In preparation for the writing of this article, I did a little research. I have always wondered if my memories of masturbating in early childhood were normal behaviour or not. Ever curious, I googled “masturbation in young children” and BINGO medical research populated my screen. While there isn’t a lot of research in this area, there is enough to make me believe my memories. I can identify with these young children who are “early masturbaters.” I was one.

Unlike many children, I learned how to pleasure myself at an early age. For me, it was instinctual.

As I grew, so did my sexual curiosity

But as I grew, so did my sexual curiosity. Around the age of five, I discovered my dad’s small stash of Playboys underneath my parent’s bed.

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At my house, it was a Christmas tradition for Santa to slip a copy of December's Playboy magazine into my dad’s stocking. To my young mind, Hugh Hefner and his magazine held a place of honour if Santa stocked his sleigh with the December issue. While my parents never spoke about sex, they were obviously progressive. Perhaps their ownership of a 1974 Volkswagen camper van explains everything.

As a child growing up in this era, I must have had a lot of freedom at home. I recall spending what seemed like hours admiring the nude images of the beautiful women who graced the pages of Playboy. Oh, the unanswered questions...

Four books fueled my growing sexual fire.

By the late ’70s, puberty called. My hormones began raging. An avid reader, I discovered books could feed my growing sexual appetite. The following four books fueled my growing sexual fire.

1. Scruples, Judith Krantz (1978)

The first racy book I recall reading was Scruples. Written by prolific romance author Judith Krantz, I connected with the character of Wilhelmina (Billie) Winthrop. She was young, ambitious, overweight, and had an aunt who encouraged her to see the world. I remember thinking “she’s just like me.”

Like many pubescent girls, I was at the beginning of what I call my ugly duckling phase. I was tall, gangly, and very self-conscious. For me, the 1980s was defined by the young, nubile Brooke Shields who let nothing get between her and her Calvins.

The sex scenes in my well-thumbed copy of Scruples made my nightly soaks in the bath a sensual and sexual experience. It was during these evening soaks, I began to explore my body. This book’s steamy sex scenes helped me to explore and discover my body. Over time, my sexual confidence grew.

Throughout the eighties, my sexual explorations continued. Despite being sexually charged, I wasn’t interested in pursuing actual relationships with boys, or girls for that matter. My lapsed Catholic upbringing had done a great job of ensuring I was a good girl. Of course, like any young girl, I had girlish crushes on boys in my classroom. But I didn’t know how to turn my crushes into reality. So I kept fulfilling my sexual needs through literature.

2. Lady Chatterley’s Lover, D.H. Lawrence (1928)

By grade 8, I’d discovered a copy of D.H Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover at my local library. I have no idea how I, a middle-class kid growing up in a suburban town, learned about D.H. Lawrence and his infamous book.

Remember this was a pre-Internet world. I can only assume there was a feature on famous censored books at my local library. Ever curious, I exercised my freedom by checking out a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover to discover what all the fuss was about.

I recall enjoying this book. But now I suspect this enjoyment wasn’t very deep and meaningful. Instead reading something adult and taboo before my friends made me feel like a sophisticated grownup.

Great, long-lasting relationships are those that are both intellectual and physical

Today, I read Lady Chatterley through the lens of a sexually experienced, married woman who is also a hotwife. I can fully appreciate what Lawrence meant when he wrote that some relationships can be “all mind” and some “all physical.” Great, long-lasting relationships are those that are both intellectual and physical. I’m sure my teenage mind must have skipped a few pages at this point in the book. Now that I’ve lived a lot, the wiser and much more experienced me now understands the insights Lawrence shared with his readers.

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As I entered high school, sex was on everyone’s mind.

My parents gave me my first clock radio. The clock was functional but the music on the radio opened my mind to a whole new world. Finally, I could listen to the music that interested me in the privacy of my bedroom.

Through radio, I discovered Freddie Mercury and Queen, David Bowie, Elton John, John Lennon, and Meatloaf and the list goes on.

The lyrics of popular songs expanded my mind. The often complex, cryptic lyrical references made me curious to explore the allusions behind the words. A lot of my spare time was spent looking up references to people and places referred to in songs like Solsbury Hill. Remember, this research was all done pre-Internet and often through encyclopedias and microfiche in my local library.

3. Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov (1955)

By 1980, I and everyone else seemed to be listening to The Police. The cryptic lyrics in their songs fascinated me. My teenage mind connected with the sexual tension felt between teacher and student in the song Don’t Stand so Close to me.

This song also introduced me to Russian-American novelist Vladimir Nabokov. When I first heard Sting sing the phrase “just like the old man in that book by Nabokov,” I didn’t have a clue what he was referring to but I knew I had to find out.

Despite my extensive sexual curiosity, I was far too shy and lacking in confidence to ever be a Lolita. But I fantasized about the precocious, sexually aware 12-year-old girl Nabokov described. Although I know some people might disagree but I felt Lolita wasn’t abused and she certainly wasn’t a victim. She knew she had power over men. Naive me must have found Lolita fascinating.

Like all of my previous curiosities, my public library helped me out. I can only imagine what the librarians must have thought when I checked out my books. They were the epitome of discretion.

4. Belle de Jour, Joseph Kessel (1928)

Like many of the books I’ve referred to in this article, I have no recollection of how I stumbled across the story of a frustrated young wife.

Based on Joseph's Kessel's novel Belle de Jour, the film is about a bored, young housewife who spends her midweek afternoons as a high-class prostitute. Brought to life by Catherine Deneuve, the story of Séverine — a respectable young wife — fascinated me and fueled my sexual fantasies.

Just like Lady Chatterley and Séverine, I can separate physical from emotional sex.

Even though it’s been years since I’ve seen this movie, I still get an erotic charge when I think about Séverine, walking into a room to have sex with strangers. To her, sex was empowering. And just like Lady Chatterley and Séverine, I can separate physical from emotional sex.

Reflecting on some of the books I sought out in my youth, I’m amazed at what I discovered. Despite my fascination with sex and erotica, I was not sexually empowered.

Socialization taught me to keep my sexuality quiet. But I lived vicariously through the sexually-liberated heroines — Billie, Lady Chatterley, Lolita and Séverine — depicted in novels.

That said, I’ve never been a wallflower. I’ve had many sexual adventures -- mostly good, some average and some jaw-dropping. As time permits, I hope to share some of them with you, dear reader. As the next chapter of my life as a hotwife unfolds, I invite you to follow me on the journey.