N. Likes

A evening of teasing, denial, and a loud orgasm on a quiet street.

I’ve finally learned not to give my wife a blender on Valentine’s Day.

Tell me what you like. Tell me what you don’t. Just hit the stars — no interaction required.

The encounters all read the same, but they don’t feel the same. That’s a writing problem, not a living problem.

An odd confession for a sex blogger: the sex is the least interesting part.

I could have been Christian Gray, but my sexual awakening and my retirement from suits arrived at the same time.

I was ashamed of the wrong things, and I lied without knowing I was lying.

A midday visit, a pencil skirt, a conference call, and the question of when, exactly, to start fingering her.

Don Draper and I are both cheaters, but that’s about where the similarity ends.