I’m imagining my core fantasy. First, what will you all wear? A sea of women…. Allie? Eva? The Historian? Isabel? L? Luna? Maxie? P? Penelope? The Rockette? Rose? Sadie? Sofia?!? Tamora? Veronique? You? (Those names – including yours – are…

The Historian occupies a special place in my… heart? brain? cock? Here are a few facts about her: 1) She’s not, actually, a historian.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve had two connections – with L and with V – that have been unlike anything previous in my life. (The relationship I had with the Historian was similar, structurally, though it was shorter,…

She wears a short cotton dress, no bra.  The taste of my cum surely is fresh in her mouth.  Her nipples poke out against the fabric.  The hotel is filled with wankers in khakis and golf shirts.  Though they leave…

The Historian e-mailed me what she called “marginalia” – her contemporaneous journal entries from the weekend in question (almost two years ago now).  I recall everything she writes vividly, but still, it’s jarring to read it in her words –…

Writing about, reading about, fucking I did almost two years ago, I’m reminded of how passive I was when fucking, how far I’ve traveled since then.  (The Historian has just sent me her contemporaneous notes from the time referenced in this…

She thought about it.  She decided to come.  It would be two nights and a day-and-a-half.  The deal was, she would relax by the pool, enjoy the weather (it was May – still cool up north, much warmer in South…

You already met her once, in Metrazur.  But this is when I met her. Her OKCupid profile was tantalizing, marking her as hot, sexually adventurous, and oh-so-smart. Her reading list was dotted with French theorists. Her writing was elegant, careful,…

It was a terrific restaurant in a spectacular location – New York’s Grand Central Terminal, on a terrace overlooking the grand main waiting room. They had delicious shellfish and an ambiance that couldn’t be beat (as compared to their competitor…