Strip clubs

When I wanted something, I had to have it — not out of weakness, but out of confusion.

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

One of the loneliest parts of my secret life was all the interesting shit I couldn’t talk about with T.

Strip clubs, sex addiction, smugness, and a visit to New York Dolls.

I’m supposed to like burlesque, but I don’t — it’s silly where it should be dirty, and clever where it should be transgressive.

Not the sex tips you’ll find everywhere else — these are for people trapped in shame, not people looking to spice things up in the bedroom.

L and I haven’t fucked since January, and I miss everything — the strip clubs, the hourly hotels, the parking lots, the bathroom stalls, and the crazy banter in between.

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

Too much is never enough?

A Saturday afternoon, a Village Voice, and a pay phone: the mechanics of my first paid sexual encounter.