Over the years, Jenny has written articles for various publications and blogs. Jenny also writes the Stocks and Bondage column for Penthouse magazine and has written dozens of erotic stories that have been featured in Penthouse, Penthouse Letters, and a multitude of their special edition publications.
I Want My Kids To Read “Filthy” Romance Novels — Here’s Why
I remember clearly the very first time I read a romance novel. I had stolen it from my mother’s top shelf, and hid in my closet to read it. I was fascinated by what I discovered on those well-worn pages. I was still in junior high, and while I giggled along with my friends about sex, I honestly didn’t understand how it all worked. That was probably age-appropriate then, but if it hadn’t been for romance novels, I would’ve still been woefully unprepared when I finally did become intimate with a partner several years later. Sure, they taught us the biology of the act (and that we must abstain) in school, my mom mentioned birth control and condoms, and I had seen some porn online at my friend Sam’s house, but none of that began to cover the complexities and insecurities that come with doing the real thing.
I Was a Dominatrix, and Here’s What It Taught Me About Sex
Learn how to whip your sex life into shape.
For two years after college, I led a double life. By day, I was Jenny, the glorified office secretary — but by night I became Mistress Scarlett, a dominatrix at an L.A. sex dungeon, where I learned a lot about secrets. Of course, I’d already had lots of personal experience keeping my own.
When I started having sex, I felt overwhelming pressure to please my partner and to be pleased by the same motions that got him off. If I couldn’t achieve climax, then there must be something wrong with me, right? For years, I faked it with my partners, too insecure to tell them what I needed. Sex was about pleasing them; masturbating was about pleasing myself.
Statistics Used To Reassure Me, But Then I Became a Mother
My first pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage. I was terribly sad and disappointed, but I hadn’t had much time to wrap my head around the idea of being pregnant yet, so it wasn’t as devastating a loss as it could have been.
We conceived again three months later, and that was when I really began to feel the emotional effects of the miscarriage. I was terrified it was going to happen again. Every twinge had me running to the bathroom to see if there was bleeding, and when I did actually start spotting around 8 weeks, I was utterly convinced I was going to lose this pregnancy too.
I managed to stop sobbing long enough to call the midwife to talk it through with her. She calmed me down in the remarkable way that women who are used to dealing with hormonal crazy people are able to do. I stopped by the birth center, and they did a totally unnecessary ultrasound just to reassure me. We found a tiny heartbeat, and I felt so much better, for about an hour before the irrational fear started creeping in again.