N. Likes

The camera is probably ruined.

Nine nights sharing a room with my son, and I’ve been saving my orgasm like a miser.

Free association reveals a one-track mind.

My cock has a mind of its own — and in group settings, it’s especially uncooperative.

Instructions for bedtime.

A recipe for a solitary evening, for the literate and the horny.

How I got from there to here, in fewer than a thousand words.

I propose a new definition for an old word.

Liza asked me about cheating. I wince at the word — it reduces something sprawling and tragic to a single dimension of betrayal, when what I did was something far worse: I led a secret, double life.

I’ve been leaving something out of my writing, and several people have noticed.