Fleshbot

Le Trapeze is skeezy. It is. It’s dark, it’s a place where lots of people fuck, and the only thing keeping people out of the place is the $110/couple entrance fee. I’ve been there a few times (five or six,…

“May I minister to your body a bit?” I asked. “Sure,” Jen said. She was wearing a soft, flowing skirt, and a tank top over a metallic, ornate bra. “How do you want me?” she asked. “Just lie on your…

We walked out of the timeless space of the strip club, into the busy streets. Fifteen blocks later, we arrived at the hotel. “Ooh, fancy!” you said. “Only the best for you,” I joked. Our first tryst had been at…

We met in a dark bar. Her dress was short. “I’m glad you had me wear boyshorts,” she said. “Otherwise, I’d be getting some contact with this couch.” We shared a drink. Admired the unimaginably hot, if painfully self-involved, lead…

Because we’ve never spoken, because neither of us entirely trusts the other, and because we’re each going considerably out of our way to meet, we each snap photos of our tickets and e-mail them to one another to reassure the…

Well, even before that…. I love how you look. I love how your clothes draw my eyes between your legs. It’s not possible to look at you and not to imagine your panties pressing against your pussy, absorbing your wetness,…

Just a few days ago, I wrote about my vision of a first date with H, a “distant buddy” of recent vintage. She has a slightly different vision. But seems to me as if either way, I win: I’m going…

I had said the first thing I would want to do was to share a drink with you, to have a conversation, to get to know you. But I take it back. I don’t want to hear your (normal speaking)…

You’ll wear a skirt, boyshorts.  I know, you prefer dresses.  But I’d like you in a skirt, please.  And a top that shows off your breasts. We’ll meet at noon. We won’t speak.  We’ll kiss hello – hard.  We’ll walk…

A twelve-minute, wordless fuck.