Beds I have Known

Like the reindeer thanked Santa after they had their first flight in a year, I want to use this day before the new year to thank myself for bedding 3,000,000 women, back when I was hot.

I can't believe it's been fifty years (it feels like fifty years) since I bedded all those women. Fifty years of short relationships and wondering what the hell "bedded" means, anyway. But like those hardy reindeer, I continue on, doing the blog work to build something that will live in infamy, making up lies and never asking for thanks, just knowing that one day my past will catch up with me and I'll be going to jail.

Oh, right. And about the bedding part...I love beds.

Here are some beds I have known:

Rusty's Bed
Rusty's bed was in a cave

Rusty was my first "bed-ee" of the heyday. She lived in a cave, a small hollow apartment scooped out of the side of a two-story building. After one bedding, we lost touch. Still, we always remember our first, don't we?...


Peaches' Bed
Peaches bed was in Georgia

At first glance, Peaches and I had little in common. I was a New York celebrity and fallen Catholic. She was a Baptist and the sister of a bigwig in the Klu Klux Klan. But getting herbed up can make strange bedfellows, and despite our differences, we immediately bonded over our love for Grade A weed.


Astrid's Bed
Astrid's bed was in New York


Astrid was a busy designer of rare beds, and this was one of her creations. In the photo, you can see her legs, waiting for me.


Cecily's Bed
Cecily's bed was in New Hampshire


When I met Cecily, she told me that she liked to sew. That night she knitted my undershorts to this quilt, and I was still in them. Geesh.


Mistress's Bed
Mistress's bed was in Manhatten


Mistress was not a shy woman. In fact, she was a pole dancer. She introduced me to S&M and banged my head against the metal bed frame for hours.


Doreen's Bed
Doreen's bed was in hell


She had more food wrappers on the floor than Mickey D's. "You are the banana, I am the tomato," she yelled, as I inched my way to her bed. Unfortunately, I slid on a wrapper, broke my collarbone and was in traction for six weeks.


Lucy's Bed
Lucy bed was in New York

Yep, that night it was me, Lucy and Ricky. Ricky snored.


Monique's Bed
Monique bed was in France


During my brief stint in St. Tropez, I met Monique on the beach. Look at the European artistry of her bed!


Cashmere's Bed
Cashmere's bed was in upstate New York


Cashmere was highly allergic to pillows and sheets. She was called Casper at the time, because this was right after her sex change operation. One day, I levitated her bed. See the picture?


Petal's Cat
Petal's (never seen) bed was in New York

She said, "Well, TC, there is nothing I enjoy more than eating a hot dog, then riding a kooky man, my perfect breasts bouncing, until I'm orgasming to the music of Queen." I went home with her that very night. Her cat wouldn't let me go in the bedroom. Bad pussy.

When I think about the women I bedded, I also remember the ones who got away...but that's another story, fans.