Swinging

In which I’m asked by a woman how she might most effectively conjure a FWB or threesome…. Seriously. (Is it that hard for a woman? I’m really shocked.)

A farewell to one of my favorite New York sex party series, which has devolved into something I won’t be attending.

The answer to how a single guy gets into a sex party is simpler than most men want it to be.

Forgot my wallet, made her pay for everything, collared her at the bar, and lost count of her orgasms at Le Trapeze. Not very dom-ly — except for the parts that were.

Navigating the minefield of CraigsList couples, where clarifying your sexual preferences can earn you a lecture on hetero-normativity from a former burlesque dancer.

Memory is unreliable. Sex parties, doubly so.

My first time at a sex party was a letdown. My most recent time, I arrived in a very different place.

Neighborhood swinging, birthday party gossip, and the rules of the club — explained over grilled chicken, with a two-year-old on someone’s knee.

I don’t just want you. I want you to want everything I want, for me — and to keep up as I ask for more.

A friend offers his own high-concept swinging fantasy — structured, verbal, and escalating, like a dinner party designed by a very literate pervert.