I really wanted to call this It’s Always Polite To Fuck The Host.
Actually I really wanted to write about my weekend, but it’s no good sharing hot stories if that could prevent a second chapter. That’s later still.
I rarely post about clients, except in the most general terms: I respect their privacy. None […]
I arrived late to the sex party, and into the middle of a rant. The boy — tall, short blonde hair, ostentatiously shirtless — targeted me. “I’m annoyed by all these straight couples!”
I hadn’t gotten the chance to verify the existence of said couples. But I could understand his sentiment. Too many […]
We’re all guilty of alcohol abuse.
I tend toward baby wipes, since isopropyl dries my skin, but no matter. Anytime a session ends, we start to wash: the rooms of course, but ourselves, too.
Don’t get that sin on you, I like to joke. It stains, you know.
Sometimes I silently watch a client scrubbing his […]
You don’t realize that you’re kinky. You just realize that your boyfriends think you’re weird.
You start to seek out other weird people. It seems too lonely an existence to be weird by yourself. After all, you’re 18 and angsty.
At some point people offer you a role in their fantasies, and you find […]
I went to MoMA for the first time on Friday. There was art I did not understand, and chocolate gelato. I brought a friend and busily unburdened myself about college-to-come, my broken air conditioner, and my first porn experience as a top.
Later we bought overpriced diner sandwiches. They were well worth it […]
Puzzled, I watched the boy strapping up our mattress. In twelve months of creative fornication, he had never tied me up, except to cook the occasional dinner in handcuffs. It seemed a matter of both principle and no minor disinclination.
This rig was a recent gift, nothing more than four nylon straps with rings. […]
My 1pm appointment, after two breathless confirmation calls, didn’t show. He’d asked for a “golden shower”, and while I am down with the pee if not the euphemisms, I hate tanking up only to be left crossing my legs and cursing. I swear some men must do this for their own amusement.
My 2pm confirmed, then […]
I think I’m ready to admit that Leather Retreat is over. My shoulders are recovered (my boyfriend’s whips are too heavy for the enthusiasm with which I threw them), and the fresh scars on my back are fading in gloss and color.
Afterwards while everyone complained of “event crash”, I simply couldn’t write. To write I […]
