Memory or fantasy?

A detailed account of precisely how I’d like you to suck my cock.

An open letter to Hyacinth, on the surprising difficulty—and arousal—of trying to write someone wet from 1,500 miles away.

A slow, detailed striptease I’d like you to perform for me.

You sit feet from me, and every small, calculated move you make sends me spiraling.

The agony of anticipation.

V continues her tale — kneeling, this time without hesitation, in a room full of strangers at Le Trapeze.

V recounts the first part of our evening — a jazz lounge, wet anticipation, and a dropped pen.

V documents a morning tryst far better than I ever could have – I just showed up and drank coffee.

Two guys at the bar couldn’t stop talking about Véronique’s ass. They had no idea she was with me — until she was.

Veronique comes a dozen times, and pretty quickly.