N. Likes

Two women I see weekly, both gorgeous, both objects of my idle fantasies — and then one of them flirts with another guy, and I’m gutted, not because I want her, but because she didn’t want me.

The language of monogamy is the language of faith — and of heresy.

I don’t ask for much. But I’m asking for this.

Angela wasn’t satisfied with my first answer, so here’s my second attempt: sensation and power.

Our monthly roundup of dissolute blogs finds me fascinated and repelled in equal measure by a man’s unapologetic accounts of transactional sex in Amsterdam’s Red Light District.

A farewell to one of my favorite New York sex party series, which has devolved into something I won’t be attending.

A love letter to my favorite porn site, and how I’d make it better if it were mine.

A peek at what you all like to read around here — compiled, fittingly, in a coffee shop too loud for actual thinking.

The answer to how a single guy gets into a sex party is simpler than most men want it to be.

When I wrote this, the biggest sin we knew Deen to be guilty of was overabundance. It still reads well, as long as you know that times have changed my view.