kink

Honestly, I’d say about 90% of the sex I have in my long-term monogamous relationship is “vanilla.” We are, believe it or not, a normal couple who does normal sex things just like anyone else. We are two people who know what the other likes and we do those things.

Trying to be dominant feels like acting for me. This isn’t to say there is no acting during scenes when I’m bottoming, but there’s a reason why I preferred working backstage when I did theatre in college—I don’t like pretending to be something I’m really not. It isn’t comfortable. It doesn’t feel natural.

The manatees were engaged in a little mutual oral pleasure — or, as the kids call it, 69. Way to go, manatees!

And when you're multiply marginalized and know how much work there is to be done in the struggle for liberation, how few people are doing it, and that our lives literally depend on it, it can feel like you’re letting your people down.

As with any book that explores a realm diverging from the mundane, there has been a lot of talk about not only the writing (apparently it sucks), but also the topic. While some are appalled by it, others, like myself, are just giving my fellow friends who enjoy some spanking action high fives. It's about time that a woman wanting to play the submissive role in the bedroom is portrayed in a light that makes it seem like a normal sex act, not something that goes on in a creepy S&M dungeon.

Queer cowboys getting it on successfully champions the notion of being man enough to take a man.

Can you be clean and sober and still engage kinkily?

In this mash-up of science and erotic fiction, we explore—and salute—the delectable servitude that is military uniform fetish.