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The best sex tips have nothing to do with anatomy.

A roll call of my most devoted readers, and a nakedly narcissistic plea to know what keeps them coming back.

Someone’s threatening my friend Hy’s anonymity from behind a cowardly pseudonymous veil of her own, and it’s got me thinking about the ethics of writing about sex you’ve actually had.

A phrase overheard at work, and the places my mind took it.

The monthly roundup of the smartest and hottest sex bloggers, all under one roof.

Sentences overheard (by too many) in a bar.

N. and Hy swap sex-blog recommendations, and I get to be a dick about word choice.

Hy and I are launching a joint curation project — one smart, hot, well-written post each per month, plus a discriminating shared blogroll, because finding sex writing that’s actually worth reading shouldn’t be this hard.

She knows who she is, and now, so do you.

A woman in a coffee shop, observed.