Aaron Sinclair, Extramarital Affair Extraordinaire - Excerpt 1


An Excerpt From “Born Again, Into Vagina”

A Memoir of Aaron Sinclair, Extramarital Affair Extraordinaire

Chapter 4

Class and Ass

The class of woman who will step out on her man ranges from upper-crust debutante to brick-and-mortar store owner (I’m definitely a fan of the mom and “pop” store). My experience with both has taught me that sexual freaks aren’t limited to any social class. It takes more than a fancy ring to keep a lady in check, fellas. Believe.

Let me give an example from my sexy repertoire:

There was a week in the summer of 2009 where I would commute from properly laying with a proper heiress in Cow’s Hollow to the Tenderloin where I’d tenderize the loins of a rather loud bird in a low-rent tenement.

There are many benefits to beds of any income size. A twin can actually help strengthen your core as you try to struggle with constantly changing positions on such a small mattress. But a bed is like a palette, and a painter always works with what he has. Even if it is literally a pallet.

Where the poor girl is apt to impress, the rich bitch is all about apathy. She has no one to impress. She has it made. She has everything she needs - clothing, expensive jewelry, succulent strawberries, and the love of a good man. The good man in this case was me. She was feeling needy, which was new and exciting to her. Her husband was always away and she wasn’t getting the attention the Extraordinary could provide. Sometimes all someone wants is the only thing you want to give. Making love to her was like depositing a check in the bank. And in this case the check was my penis.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE every lady I love.  But let’s face it. One of these broads took WAY more effort to keep in the sack. It was, of course, the Tenderloin dame. She didn’t have much, and I had the world. The problem wasn’t even her - it was me. I wanted it all and, well, she didn’t have enough money to even pitch in for dinner. What is this, the 80’s? Do I look like a sugar daddy to you? Love is a two-way street and I ain’t getting pulled over by no needy officer just because I have enough in my tank to get to the restaurant.

Also, she said my analogies were stupid. You never insult a man’s verbiage.

So it ended.

A few weeks later Mrs. Rich had to move to Morocco to be closer to her man. I wished her luck, but we both knew how empty that wish was. She was made of luck - until the moment she walked away from me. Which just goes to show: not all the wealthy know how to invest their time properly. Especially when it comes to love. And by love I mean sex.