My story

My tortured relationship to my own masculinity.

A woman on the street reminds me of Jennifer, a woman I paid to suck my cock in her West Village apartment years ago, whose rough tongue and too-nice apartment and hedge fund boss I tried not to think too hard about.

I sat in the dark for hours, waiting for a woman to make me come to life again. Then I’d scurry home and pretend I’d never been there.

Bad science, good questions, and the hottest sexual experience I can remember — one I wish I could forget.

For years, I never fucked another woman — not out of principle, but because fucking was never the thing I wanted. Then that started to change.

CraigsList, hotel rooms, and the education of a sexually self-aware man, one blowjob at a time.

This is the story of my second first paid blowjob. It began with a massage, and she wanted my cock in her mouth…

My first paid blowjob involved a bait-and-switch, a dark room, and a technique that should be patented.

The elaborate fictions I constructed to make sense of behavior that made no sense — brave explorer and pathetic loser, coexisting without reconciliation.

Too much is never enough?