Winter of My Damn Discontent: A Sex Addict’s Journey Continues (cw:18+)

The winter of 2004 grew long and extremely cold, and so did my trail of marriageable men.

I needed to prove to myself that I was not a sex addict, so I cut several cars from my promiscuous train. The pickings grew slim, and I rotated the crops often. Nothing changed, my main objective was still sex. I was not in search of Mr. Right. When I needed sex, I would dip into the “No-No List” (off-limits men) that I kept hidden in a drawer, just in case of an emergency. As the snow finally thawed that April, so did my heated sex drive. I needed a fix. Basak, the cousin of my hunky Turkish personal trainer, Seref would do. He was great fun.

I liked his kinky style of sex. We’d wrestle in bed. He liked it when I pinned him down and spanked him.

He told me all kinds of weird things he had done like lying naked in a crowd while the group sprayed insults at him and God knows what else. He told me that he liked being humiliated. To each his own. Still, I liked his weirdness. Made me feel better about mine.

I was just finishing up a week’s vacation with my daughter, Rebecca, in South Beach—her choice. I knew it was going to be frustrating for me to be in Party Capital USA and not be able to join in on the fun. But she wanted to go to the beach, and that was where she chose. Needless to say, I was returning to NYC in a few days, and I was in great need of an orgasm. I called Basak in advance to place my order.

“Basak, dude, what up?”
“Hey Shanti girl. Been a long time. How are you?”
“I am good. Hanging out here in South Beach.”
“Alright, how fun!”

I decided to let Basak hold onto the illusion that I was partying on down here.

“Yeah, it’s great. Got me to remember our fun nights out on the town.I would love to see you when I get back.”
“Cool, absolutely.”
“What are you doing this Saturday night?”
“Hanging with you, of course.”
“Aaaalright! I return Saturday afternoon. I’ll call you then and set-up a time/place.”
“You got it, babe.”

Young guys are simpler. Their hormones run high so when they know they are going to get some; they are easy to convince. Older men have “considerations” like, is she using me for my money? Is she a good partner for me? Will she cheat on me? Will she love me? Guess their hearts and brains start working when the testosterone wears off. I find these “considerations” boring, especially when my promiscuous train is running at high speed.

Rebecca’s dad picked us up at the airport, dropped me off and then took her for the weekend. Yes! Momma’s gonna get her some tonight!! As soon as I dropped my bags, I called Basak and left him a voicemail.

“Dude, I’m back. Let’s go dancing at this cool new place, check it out, then check each other out back at my place. Call me.”

I decided to check my sex suitcase. Most people keep their sex paraphernalia in a drawer by the bed but with a young child, it’s too risky. I keep my toys in a small, plaid, locked suitcase under my bed. It was out of sight and safe from my daughter.

I opened the suitcase to check and make sure there were enough condoms and lube to carry us through the night. I also made sure that my porn stash was tidy, and my toys were clean. Dildos, vibrators, ticklers, and of course my butt plug. That was my secret weapon. Oh, I liked it on me, sure enough, but I also used it on the guys. I always covered it with a condom for ease of cleaning, especially if we both used it on one another that same night.

Of course, most of the guys protested initially when I announced I wanted to use a butt plug on them. However, once they got a blow-job with the butt plug in place, they never went back.

Photo Credit: Jesse Clockwork via Compfight cc

Categories: Emotional HealthWomen's Issues + Awareness

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S. P. Owen

Shanti is a writer, relationship coach, and an advocate for women. She was formerly an 80's super model (known as Patty Owen) regularly featured in Vogue, Elle, Marie Claire, Harper's Bazaar, and Cosmopolitan magazines. Shanti was also an upcoming actress that appeared on popular TV shows like NBC’s Miami Vice. Shanti left Hollywood due to sexual harassment issues in the industry and personal abandonment issues, rekindled when dozens of her closest friends died from the AIDS epidemic. In search of healing, Shanti went on a deep spiritual journey for several years. During this period she adopted the name “Shanti” which means “peace” in Sanskrit. Shanti is deeply committed to us finding peace on earth as individuals and through our intimate relationships. To that end, she has been immersed in over 33 years of research and training in transformational, spiritual, sensual, and relationship modalities. Shanti’s major areas of study include Dan Fauci's Mastery of Self Expression, Werner Erhard's EST training, Transcendental Meditation, Louise L. Hay, More University, The Landmark Forum, David Deida, Kabbalah, Personal Dynamics, and numerous yoga and tantra programs. Twice divorced, Shanti keeps connected with both her ex-husbands and fosters close relationships with her father, sister, 22-year-old daughter, and her many close friends. Shanti's mother passed in 2011 and with her death came the death of Shanti's denial. Shanti finally got clear that she had a sex/love addiction that was unconsciously guiding her every decision, many of them very dangerous. Shanti is extremely grateful that her mother's death shook her up and woke her up. You can read more about Shanti's awakening in her upcoming book, Memoirs of a Legal Courtesan: A sex/love addict's journey into wholeness... For up-to-date information on Shanti’s books and TV appearances go to and

  1. Shanti –

    I love this honesty. Im excited to read part 2. I can relate. Women do not tell these types of truths but thank you for putting yourself out there. Keep it coming Lady!

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