Hy and I are back with two more dissolute picks, and I have some thoughts about Cande’s posts on sex tourism and paying for sex.

Hy and I swap blog recommendations again — this month, I’m drawn to the cold, almost sociopathic detachment of a john in Amsterdam, and to the sharp voices of sex workers writing about their own lives.

Our monthly roundup of dissolute blogs finds me fascinated and repelled in equal measure by a man’s unapologetic accounts of transactional sex in Amsterdam’s Red Light District.

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.

Lily and I were together a lifetime ago, and our relationship taught me something I’m still learning: that caring for someone and fucking them well require very different muscles.

Curating the art of the breast shot, one theme at a time.

A sex-blogger kerfuffle, in which I insert myself where I may not be welcome.

An open letter to Hyacinth, on the surprising difficulty—and arousal—of trying to write someone wet from 1,500 miles away.

A blog crush, a challenge, and the promise of more.