Pillow talk, verbatim.

The Hitachi Magic Wand: louder than a lawnmower, but far more useful.

Two very hot photos of my wife, and the question of what to do with them.

I’m no whisky snob, but I know what I like to drink.

We men are like a kid running with scissors: irresponsible and dangerous.

I can’t not see you.

Prenegotiated sex, a magic wand, and a very good morning.

Three questions, no simple answers, and the honest admission that hanging a flag doesn’t summon a gazillion great sex partners.

Snap judgments, Birkenstocks, and ostrich burgers: a date that was over before it started.

T’s ass looks great in denim shorts. But that doesn’t tell you very much about her.