Erotica

A detailed, slow, teasing undressing — and what comes after.

A text exchange in which I try to make her pussy wet between meetings.

A note to a woman I haven’t yet met.

The fantasy was me and eight or ten women. The reality was two, in black dresses, at opposite ends of a bar. My fallback position was, it turned out, pretty fucking spectacular.

A fantasy I’d like to make real, involving a hotel bar, black dresses, boyshorts, and very specific instructions.

Continuing to elaborate on the logistics and choreography of my core fantasy. The devil, as they say, is in the details.

I line you all up against a hotel wall and let my imagination do what it does best.

What I want to do to your throat, and what that wanting does to you.

The best part of sex is never the sex itself — it’s everything that happens in our heads, and on paper.

Two women in cotton dresses, standing against a wall, waiting for me.