N. Likes

A reader in her 40s asks whether I prefer younger women. The honest answer is complicated, and has to do with the difference between 2-D and 3-D.

In a hotel elevator, I told Graziella I hate writing about sex — and then, of course, I went ahead and wrote about the sex.

I bought my wife sexy boots. She wore them for me. I responded like an enormous doofus.

Sofia lives thousands of miles away, sends me more than my imagination could conjure, and does whatever I ask, smiling. Here she is.

If I had my way, I’d take an oral sex break a few times a day. Intercourse, though, is rarely something I desire until someone’s been licking or sucking for quite a while.

I’ve discovered the simple pleasure of talking to women in bars — no agenda, no expectations, just conversation.

I write with my left hand now, and I wonder what that does to my brain.

A screen full of my favorite gifs, all at once. You’re welcome.

I used to reply to every message instantly — in work, in dating, in sexting. Now I’ve learned that the space between messages can be more charged than the messages themselves.

Forgot my wallet, made her pay for everything, collared her at the bar, and lost count of her orgasms at Le Trapeze. Not very dom-ly — except for the parts that were.