Anyone who has read Guts by Chuck Palahniuk knows that things can end very badly when we don’t carefully consider the risks of exercising our proclivities. But just in case you didn’t get the lesson (or you fainted during one of Palahniuk’s infamous readings of the story), we have some more gruesome tales for you, fresh from ER gossips around the country. … Continue Reading
“As you know, California is an all-party consent state,” I say, putting the iPhone on the table. The banter around me dies down immediately. “I’m going to take the lack of screaming as consent. If you speak from this point on, you’re consenting to being recorded. All right, let’s hear that story.”
“What story?” Daniel* asks innocently. He takes a sip of his drink and begins: “We met on a cruise. It’s what I call a vacationship. The vacationship that went way too far. We went on a cruise to Bermuda in June, spent seven days together and stayed in touch over the summer. I spent the summer on the East Coast, so I’d drive to see her and we’d be involved. Sexually — if I need to announce that for the microphone.” … Continue Reading
Tonight she watches. Legs crossed, head cocked, a bemused smile on her lips. A softly fuming cigarette at her fingertips. The taste of vodka. … Continue Reading
The fundamental tenet of BDSM play is “Safe, Sane, Consensual.” This isn’t Ma Cherie’s Kink U* so I’ll sum up:
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” he lamented insincerely; barely audible over the rustle of fabric. The buttoning of buttons. His watch snaps closed. … Continue Reading
I returned to one of my former stomping grounds, San Francisco, for my first Folsom Street Fair since I “came out” as a kinkster. I lived in S.F. in the early- to mid-80′s and remember going to one of the very first Folsom Street fairs. Back then, it was a small, neighborhood affair, with a strictly hardcore gay leather crowd. As jaded as I was, it was shocking to see all those bare man asses and cocks hanging out right there in public, in broad daylight! … Continue Reading
As the saying goes, it was the chase that thrilled her. The locking of eyes across a darkened room. A haze of sweat and cigarette smoke.
She enjoys a slow seduction. A rhythm that swells and retreats with the quickening and softening of heartbeats. The pulse of an evening. This one was a child, really. A man in years only. Full of his own estimations. He was ripe for instruction. … Continue Reading
A week ago a Twitter user asked the perennial question, “Jackie or Marilyn?” Would you rather be the elegant, stylish idol Jackie O, or sexpot goddess Marilyn Monroe? (For the younger generation, Team Jennifer or Angelina?) Virgin/slut, wife/mistress, girlfriend/hook-up, whatever paradigm you use to explain the roles available to women in society. They always boil down to good girl versus bad girl. Which one are you? An even better question, which one would you be?* … Continue Reading
The door closes behind him. Her skin is still warm. His retreating footsteps beat a rhythm and she sings to it softly, tracing a line from hip to breast with her fingertips. His favorite bit of her, he says.
Brief, fleeting, fervent, she loves him in three hour intervals that begin and end with the rhythm of steps. In one direction and then in the other. He is not like the rest. … Continue Reading
When people ask me about my Labor Day weekend, my polite answer has been the aforementioned title (since I love film references). The reply closer to reality would be: beer, sex, and cigarettes. Since I’d rather not write an entire novel on this lost weekend, I’ll give you the blow-by-blow by the hours. … Continue Reading
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