“Without a record of the things we do together those things become less precise. They lose their edges…”
A vignette about keeping a play diary.
Literate Kink
“Without a record of the things we do together those things become less precise. They lose their edges…”
A vignette about keeping a play diary.
“Look at me. Sir? At me. At you. Who do you belong to? To you. To me? Yes. You. Yours.”
A verbatim transcription of a discussion about ownership.
A short essay on the joy of finding new lovers online.
“The motel is dirtier than last time, the handcuffs smaller. Their steel bites into her wrists as he fucks her ass in the bathroom…”
A vignette about celebrating a special occasion.
“He reaches for the chair leg and in a simple motion — done without looking at what he does — he looses the leash…”
A short story featuring pet play.
“The first thing I know is a sensation of intense arousal – an absolute, blind, urgent need which yanks me up from sleep towards the surface of consciousness like a life preserver.”
A vignette about waking up in the middle of the night, horny.
“He laughs. She laughs. There is a silence between them, but it’s not awkward anymore. He finds himself examining the curves of her body within her dress.”
A short story about an encounter at a New Year’s Eve party.
“Cal felt a hard kick in the pit of his stomach as the towel hit the floor. She was naked underneath. Completely naked.”
A novel excerpt about forbidden attraction.
“You can’t stop looking at her body – the way that everything is a curve that ends in another curve. No angles. No straight lines.”
A short story about having sex outside in the sunshine.
“I removed my clothes item by item until I was naked and unadorned. I bent over with my hands on the bed. You told me exactly what you needed of me.”
A short story about a couple engaging in domestic discipline.