N. Likes

A lascivious game of “I never,” played while a woman comes for me in Starbucks.

Politics, sex, sexting, and the question of just how fond of one’s penis is too fond.

A loyal reader’s compliment sends me down a predictable rabbit hole: am I endlessly self-reflective, or just endlessly self-absorbed?

Nothing like watching my stats climb while I’m busy doing anything but writing.

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.