Desire

Sometimes all I want is to be hard — not to connect, not to come, but to counter a deadness deep within me with the undeniable sensation of being alive.

My body responds before my mind does, but thankfully, my mind wins every time — and it’s not virtue, it’s something deeper and darker that keeps me honest.

What gets me hard isn’t your body — it’s knowing you need me to do what I’m about to do to it.

A sexy reader asks me about desire and arousal, and I have some thoughts.

Too much eagerness to please me is, paradoxically, a turnoff. I have some theories about why.

Sofia’s right: I really am difficult. The two dangers of being desired — having instead of getting, and being wanted in the wrong amount.

The title pretty much says it.

The getting feels better than the having — and that realization explains more about me than I’m entirely comfortable with.

When a woman shows interest in me, my body goes into overdrive — and my judgment disappears.

The women in my life come and go, and my mood rises and falls with them.