July 2013

Sex is my breath: endlessly complex, always with me, and not really about enjoyment.

Five days left on vacation, no charger, spotty internet, and I don’t really mind.

The best moans are the ones you’re trying to suppress.

Porn gets blowjobs wrong, and I have opinions about how.

Fucking isn’t the point. The sentence is more interesting than the period at the end of it.

A short, curvy woman on the subway, and everything I noticed.

She’s standing at the pastry case, but she’s not just evaluating pastries.

What excites me isn’t nudity — it’s the distance between clothed and nude, and the slow, deliberate closing of that distance.

Apparently, in London, Starbucks considers me a public health hazard.

Men have the ability to supercharge a sexual adventure, and they have the ability to shrivel my dick. The psychology of both is more similar than you might think.