I will never forget the moment when I wrote my first short, erotic story. I was sitting in my swedish multinational conglomerate standard breastfeeding armchair, four o’clock in the morning, nightlight on, boob out, three month old baby fast asleep at my naked breast as I started tap – tap – tapping naughty thoughts into notes on my phone.
But who would have thought it? After years of spontaneous and diverse frolicking in bed, I
was suddenly faced with imminent divorce because our love life had dissipated, much like
restful sleep, since having our kids. When my husband announced he no longer knew what
to do, I threw myself into my newest project (besides keeping our kids alive and staying
sane): finding my libido.
What a mission! Doctors and therapists declared me perfectly healthy. Yet Christmas was
heavy with talk of separation. And so, one late night, snuggled between the kids, I entered a
rabbit hole of research. Reignite your passion, kickstart your libido… There were tablets and
potions and I searched high and low for a quick fix. But the longer I searched, the more
evident it became, that the loss of lust wasn’t the cause but the symptom.
Moreover, since becoming a mother, I had entirely lost sight of who I was. My headspace
was filled with sleep schedules (not mine, ofcourse), when was the last nappy change and
so on and so forth. But where had I gone? Lisa Opel? Lisa, the woman? The wife? So
consumed with the colour of my children’s poo, I had neglected myself completely.
Meanwhile my rabbit hole of research grew longer (and darker). The more I searched, the
more my mind absorbed all information surrounding the topic loss of lust. And all of a
sudden, a garden of sexuality I had allowed to wither and dry out was being watered again. I found myself thinking about sex again. Magic lies in the small things and for me, this was
David Copperfield stuff.
But hold on a moment, this isn’t the big aha moment. Unfortunately, as exciting as the
research was, I couldn’t deny the fact that many aspects of my life were lacking my attention.
As efficient as a project manager, I set about to analyse all areas of my life such as my body,
my habits, my friendships, my dreams and aspirations. In short, I revamped my life to include
more pleasure in it. In small things: allowing myself to enjoy my coffee in the morning and
not worrying about something trivial. Or going for a long walk without mum guilt gnawing at
my neck. Nobody had warned me that motherhood and its overwhelming grip can almost
choke you. But also in big things: I took a look “down there” again. I touched her. I started
figuring out what had changed, what hadn’t changed. And I allowed myself to let go of
shame and trauma and, in particular, the notion that I needed to perform or please my
“I love my body. I love my slightly irregular-shaped boobs with their light stretch marks and
how soft candlelight makes them shimmer. I love my small, un-perky bottom that I wish was
rounder but am too lazy to work on. I love how my belly is slightly pudgy and pale and folds
when I sit and move. I love my crooked tooth that comes out when I smile (and I like to
smile). I love my big, brown, doe eyes and how my dimples amuse people. I love my vulva,
although it’s strange to look at and wobbles, and, when I stare at it in a hand mirror, it looks
more like kale than something you’d worship. But I love it. And I love loving myself.”
Subsequently, having children spurned me on to actively discover my own sexuality again;
an evolving journey I had suddenly become acutely aware of. It wasn’t all easy peasy
anymore, I had to give it my all. But in doing so, I was giving myself more focus.
All of a sudden, my husband and I were talking about sex again (something everyone should
do more often). One sunny afternoon, I decided I would tell him that I had begun writing
down fantasies and experiences to relight my passion fire. And out of that one brave
moment, snowballed one story after another. I showed friends, they loved it, they wanted
What was different about Lisa Opel, the spicy literature author? My British accent, my witty
way of describing otherwise awkward moments, the fact that I wrote about those
uncomfortable bits and furthermore, that my stories got straight to the good part without
hundreds of pages filled with adjectives about the main character’s eyes.
In other words, a compilation of short, erotic stories was born out of my absolute
desperation. GIVE IT TO ME!
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My stories are a colourful and diverse pot-pourri of themes and fates. From soulmates to
love stories to life stories to flings, lactating mothers, revenge, daring to explore and
adventure to more serious matters such as rediscovering your body after trauma and even
lust after the death of a partner. But it’s not all serious, on the contrary. With the logistics of threesomes (or more) and the complexity or simplicity of masturbation and the highlights of using toys, I’ve got you covered!
Consequently, I reached out to other mums and lowered the tone at every playdate. It appeared so many of us were struggling. Hence, it became my mission to join the revolution taking place for women like me. The urge to forget a mostly miserable sex education, leave the people-pleaser vibes behind and be selfish in the bedroom.
But don’t be fooled, I am not cured of my loss of lust. There is no quick fix. How often I am
asked, “Lisa, what can I do?” And my answer is always the same: “Start finding pleasure in
your own life again. Rediscover pleasure in your mind and body. Nothing changes if nothing
changes. And if completely and entirely in doubt, read my stories and allow your mind to
wander. Keep watering that garden of lust.”
Lisa Opel blogs about all things motherhood, female empowerment, body-positive mindset, balancing life as a mother and woman, sexuality and libido on her webpage and instagram, as well as performing live readings. Her book “GIVE IT TO ME!” is available on Amazon.
Titelbild: Lisa Opel, fotografiert von (c) Lotta Laabs