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Sometimes it’s the outfit more than the person wearing it that catches my eye.

Nowhere near enough time.

I’m angry.

Tell me all about your last orgasm. In your spoken voice. Recorded, as a voice memo. In public.

Not to take anything away from this blog, or its readers, but I haven’t really missed you. (Winking smiley face.)

I feel bad for Anthony Weiner.

I care about words.

Writing without a net.

What might a second date look like?

Sit in a public space and meditate on the sensations in your pussy for fifteen minutes.

Eyes closed.

And then, tell me about it.