Musing

There’s generous, open, compliant submission. There’s freely given, but somewhat reluctant, submission. And then there are bratty subs.

The Google searches I wish would lead you to me.

My wife worried I’d get sued. I did some reading. I’m pretty sure I’m fine—but I’d love a first-amendment lawyer to tell me I’m wrong.

Bear with me while I sort out the commenting situation.

The real turn-on isn’t the picture, the movie, the voicemail. It’s knowing you did as I asked.

I’m not submissive, but lately I’ve been curious. A Twitter spat with a right-wing operative got me thinking — and writing — things I’ll never post.

Sex-blogger reindeer games, and a few memes I’m inventing.

Intense Debate is intensely aggravating, and I’m thinking of ditching it — even if it means losing every comment to date.

Craigslist ads, dubious correspondents, and the question of what turns me on about a story that may well be entirely fictional.

She wants me to write about her. But I write about what I think and what I do — and she’s not quite either.