N. Likes

My cock is hard. Your mouth is wet. It’s simple, really.

Sometimes a single word says everything that needs to be said.

I don’t love the words, but I sure love the act. A meditation on the inadequacy of language.

I eat your pussy because I’m hungry, not because I’m generous.

The massage parlor offers certainty. The bar offers something better, but almost certainly not.

Two principles I try to remember: it’s almost always more useful to ask what *we* did than what *you* did, and more useful to think about what *I* can change than what *you* should.

My grammar, you’ll have noticed, is perfect. My experience with a recent editor, not so much.

Forget the quizzes — if your gut says something’s wrong, it is. Here’s what I actually find useful instead.

You’ve heard it before. But you’re wet, and you’re dressed as I asked, and you don’t see me yet.

Misogynist lyrics, rape porn, Robin Thicke, and the difference between censoring desire and changing culture.