February 2012
36 posts
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His Face
His face is scratchy.
It should be an obvious thing, but it surprises me all the same. His lips are full and strong, and for the first few minutes we kiss I only notice the differences. His hands are bigger, his skin rougher, his breath warmer, and his body aggressive. He kisses me without pause and I’m overwhelmed.
“Is this how I kiss? Is that what my face feels like, and do I do that with my...
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“I’ve asked every girl I know and while it may be easier to Facebook, text,...”
– From Hana: Polyamory and Erotica in New York City.
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Left or Right
I stood on the corner for a long time trying to decide if I should turn left or right.
Maggie would let me in without asking why I was there. She would pour me a drink and start in on a story before I could say a word. She’d sit close to me on the couch, and I’d stare at her breasts as they moved with each breath. Her story would inevitably make me hard. There would be a new boy...
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When I Was A Romantic
When I was a romantic everything was important. I wrote letters by hand and mailed them with stamps scrounged from the bottom of the drawer. I signed my real name with a pen given to me by my grandfather.
When I was a romantic I drank more tea than wine and anticipation was my greatest pleasure. I kissed for hours without undoing a button.
I waited to say I love you until the sunset.
When I was...
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She Gives The Best Text
“This guy eats my pussy just like you do.”
“Which guy?” I texted back.
“The guy eating my pussy.”
“Why are you texting me during?”
“I couldn’t wait. Plus, he’s totally lost down there. He hasn’t noticed.”
“Do you text when I’m doing that?”
“Almost never.”
“Try not to call him my name.”
“Toooooo late….”
GNY
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I Wanted To Keep Her
“Are you guys fucking in there?”
Shit. The stall was locked, and the hotel bathroom was far from anything, but someone found us anyway. How do you answer that question? Just an honest yes? Say nothing at all? Ask for a towel?
“Um, yeah,” my friend replied in a quiet voice. I held her there against the wall, my cock still inside her and her legs wrapped around my body. The pause was too long...
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“There’s a good boy,” he said once again. I could only see him in the...”
– From A Daddy for Daddy in my e-book Chicks are For Fags.
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Anonymous asked: I'm a 20 year old virgin woman. I want to have sex. I've had opportunities, but none of the men really interested me enough. I got turned on and all, just was meh. Is there something wrong with me? Should I wait for someone who means something or is losing your virginity not that big a deal?
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Highly Inappropriate
“Sometimes I think Columbia women are the least fetishized girls in New York.”
“That’s true. I would never write about a Columbia woman.”
“You write about me.”
“Yeah, but I don’t say where you went to school. I mean if you went to NYU that would be one thing. Even Barnard would be sexier. And don’t get me started on FIT. I could fetishize the shit out of an FIT student.”
“I could read The...
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Anonymous asked: I read that most of your short sex stories are from real life (not exactly the same). Is it always with the same person or do you have sex with different people?
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Like In The Pictures
“How come you don’t sit naked in the window drinking coffee while you watch the snow fall? Like in the pictures.”
“How come you don’t drink scotch in a suit and tie while sitting on a leather chair with your big cock hanging out? You know. Like in the pictures.”
We stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch, and neither one of us blinked. Her flannel pajamas had kittens on them, and...
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Fucking a Gryffindor
I was too drunk to fuck by the time she told me to call her Hermione.
We had stumbled out of the bar a half hour earlier, and I thought the cab ride home might have cleared my sense. I hoped that back at my place—with her shirt lying on the ground and my hand wrapped around her wrists—it would all fall into place. Hope, I realized very quickly, is for the sober.
“I thought you picked me up...
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A Cock Like Paris
His cock reminded her of Paris in the rain. It reminded her of Machu Picchu at sunset and the blue green lights over the empty snows of the Yukon. His cock reminded her of everything beautiful in the world, and she came around it like she was impaled on the tower of Babylon. She scratched his chest and slapped his face as her orgasm ripped through her; she called him a name that was almost his.
...
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The Names
I call it “Her List.”
I see her once or twice a year and we go through the same ritual each time. We give ourselves an hour to say hello, have a drink, kiss faces, and remember. We check in about our lives and we try to go slowly, knowing that we’ll fail.
Once we leave the restaurant, we no longer need to say anything until we’re in her room. The first two years required...
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