Memory or fantasy?

Strip clubs, sex addiction, smugness, and a visit to New York Dolls.

A little written orientation on the care and feeding of my cock.

My trainer wore a miniskirt and boots to our session. She knew exactly what she was doing.

A different kind of lazy Sunday.

I know what I want. And I ask nicely.

Twenty minutes. Go.

Honestly, I could listen to this shit all day long.

C discovered my blog, read everything, and then started sending me her orgasms. The first one takes a while, but it’s worth the wait.

P is spreadsheeting her orgasms for me, and every time she updates a cell, I get an e-mail. So. Fucking. Hot.

The game is tied, and nobody’s biting.