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A evening out, planned in detail — for someone I won’t be joining.

A resolution I somehow left off the list.

A scavenger hunt, of sorts, beginning at Grand Central and ending in Room 1402.

L sent me an elf-pajama crotch shot. Merry Christmas.

Sometimes the high road gets you exactly where you wanted to go.

She does as I ask. And then she says the thing that makes a tentative dom go weak in the knees.

The deliciousness of anticipation — and its fragility.

My hand lifts you by your crotch; my other hand pushes you down. You hinge forward at the hips, ready for whatever may come next.

Just like that, she's evaporated. My wife, you see, has seen pictures of her (because she sent them to me, to an account I had told her my wife reads).  She wanted to see pictures of my wife in return.…

Thursday, I’ll fuck L. Between now and then is one of the best parts of our relationship: the hard-on I can conjure almost instantly by imagining the possibilities. Here’s what I’m thinking: 1) Straightforward, traditional hotel-room romp.2) Give her the reins –…