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Five hundred posts. That’s a lot of words about sex.

I don’t fit in among the polyamorists or the swingers — too earnest for the one crowd, not earnest enough for the other.

What if what I’ve always understood as infinite desire is actually infinite fear?

After a walk with L, I passed a tiny, curvy woman and was swamped with a very specific desire — not for her, exactly, but for the feeling of a small body yielding to my forcefulness.

Three ways I use porn, only one of which has much to do with being horny.

Family, blowjobs, women’s clothing, words, and you.

Mara went home to Israel, but she still sent me her orgasm.

A man dies on the street outside Starbucks, and I think about sex, death, and gratitude.

A paralyzed man’s quest to experience sex, a sex surrogate who treats the encounter like a medical procedure, and my frustration that the movie can’t imagine foreplay as part of the assignment.

More porn I find simultaneously hot and repellent.