I pulled my old clunker up to a beautiful suburban condo overlooking the water.
“Welcome, welcome!” Rocket Man said cheerfully as he opened the heavy front door. “Come on in!”
Photographs of babies, pets, and vacation spots followed me up the staircase and into a crisp, rather mod living room. Placed tastefully around the room were what looked to the layman’s eye like Japanese art. In the center of the room stood a 7-foot-tall bamboo tripod structure, the top bound in rope and suspending a large metal ring. I had a feeling I knew who was going to be tied to that tripod. Continue reading →
I got together with them over drinks and dinner a little while ago, and was blown away. First of all, their photo didn’t do them justice. Yes, they’re in their 40s no matter which way you swing it. But, shit, they’re aged like a fine ass wine. I was attracted. Box #1: checked.
“You make such adorable faces when you squirm.” Fiji — what I’ll name the 6′ tall, 33-year-old, Fijian-Canadian tech executive I snagged off of OkCupid — shot an amused grin at me over our two bottles of Pinot Grigio. He had a small amount of extra padding around the middle, sported a chin-strap beard, and was dressed too casually for the place, yet I was finding him ridiculously sexy all the same. Continue reading →
Craigslist is the dude who swears he and your cousin are best buds, who gives a fake I.D. to the bouncer (but you aren’t sure whether it’s because he’s underage or a wanted felon), and then takes his shirt off and hits on girls relentlessly all night.
OkCupid is the sorority chick who just sits at the bar on her iPhone, but is constantly glancing up in the hopes of catching someone checking her out.
Meanwhile, ALT.com, the older gentleman who orchestrated the whole party, spends the night sober and mingling politely, passing out name tags, swapping business cards, and telling both the men and the women about his sexual fetish for pony play. Continue reading →
“The fun part of denial is that the more you want to cum, the more your subconscious will churn on the fact that this most intimate of body parts no longer belongs to you, but to someone else.”
I’m bundled up in bed in the middle of the night, hungrily reading through my texts from a 47-year-old married man who is potentially to be my Dom. Yes, we are talking the full-on BDSM Master/slave type of Dom. Holy fuck. How did I get here…