“Do you know any hangover cures?” she groaned.

“The only one that ever works for me,” I said frankly, “is sex.”

Are you ready?  

The voice in her head was getting louder and she knew it was time to answer.  It was one thing to be naked in front of people, another to open her legs and her body.  The room was filled with people doing their own thing, but it was just a matter of time before people took notice to what was going on and would start to watch.  It’s a weird visual frenzy.

The people behind Naked Me recently hopped on a scooter bare-ass naked (save for helmets) and rode it across Sydney Harbour Bridge in full view of dozens of cars and cops and God knows how many surveillance cameras. Why? Because they’re down with “body rights and sharing [their] naked selves.” That’s a good enough reason for us. We’re sure the wind felt great, too.

When the world gets us down and it seems like Death and his buddies are waiting right around the corner to steal our iPhones, we stop and remind ourselves that somewhere on this crazy planet, a woman named Nicole is turning to her husband and asking, “Wanna drive down to the sex shop and take pics of me pointing huge dildos at my mouth while my tits are out?”

Tucked away in our treehouse hideaway under the eaves, he chose the outfit, directed me to dress, and then focused the camera on me. I didn’t get any say in the matter. My only responsibility was to follow instructions.

Adeline Rebeillard has discovered that the only thing that really turns her on is breaking out the camera and making her boyfriend film as she fucks her. If he gets too distracted to thinking about shooting, she will grab his hand and make him maintain a better camera angle. We admire her commitment to making amateur porn. Let nothing get in the way of your art, Adeline!

Why? Because she’s Madonna, that’s why. She’s a natural performer, she loves to connect with the crowd, and she wanted all of those screaming Istanbulites to know that her nipple is just as pink and perky as any pop star’s.

Who loves getting felt up on park benches?

I do, I do!

Such slutty behavior–I’m quite sure it was all that cock fever driving me slutty crazy, my mouth a magnet to his cock.

We took a drive in the countryside. Although he’s been with me nearly a year, we’ve barely explored the country around us. Today we wandered north toward my office. He’s never been there. Before today.

We pulled up to the office and parked in the front. No other cars in the front, but I couldn’t see the side parking lot fully. I let myself in – I’m lucky to have a 24/7 security badge – and walked to my cube.

A charming reader named Liza, who has a sex blog of her own, wrote to me asking for an erotic dare set on an amusement park ride. I had no idea that she would become a sex machine herself. This is her daring response.

Dear X,

First off, I thought a lot about your e-mail. I mean your idea that my sex fantasies usually involve anonymous partners and that this means I don’t really fantasize about men or women I know. That’s not always true, but I think you’re right, and I know this. Funnily enough, I guess I’m old fashioned about these things. If I’m honest, in the back of my mind it’s the man who should seduce a woman. I’ve had quite a few lovers in my life, but most of the time I just put myself in the way, if that makes sense. The men seduced me. I was just there and showed that I was open to it (it helps that I’m the friendly type). The only time I can really remember making the first move is with my husband, actually, and that was only because I was so sure he wanted it. Anyway, that story’s really not the point, but I did think about these things as I set off to attempt your difficult dare. Your other dares have been so wonderful – “tactful” really – that they’ve let me have a lot of fun anonymously, without putting myself in any kind of social danger (danger may be a strong word). This one, though, forced me to take the initiative in a way I almost never do, and honestly that made me uncomfortable, even if there’s always something sexy in that, too.

I want to be watched. I’m not exactly sure who it is I want to do the watching, but I want them to see everything.

The way we see it, clothing only exists to be taken off. Does that make us exhibitionists? We don’t think so, but honestly, we don’t understand exhibitionism all that well. That’s why today’s entry in the Encyclopedia of Smut is all about bringing the sun where the sun doesn’t usually shine!

You might think that flashing is something one can do anywhere, at any time—that, in fact, the very essence of flashing is the fact that it’s spontaneous and unplanned and unstructured. But oh, friends, that’s where your wrong: the best flashes are, in fact, perfectly calibrated, with location, body part,

Being Mr. X has its advantages, but then so does being my wife’s husband. As Mr. X I knew all about my wife’s (near) flashing in our local café, and I knew she was out confessing some of this to a friend (likely Mona, I knew). But when she returned

Those late night knocks catching me when I am weak for love and cock. Love and cock, why must I continue to connect the two the things, this seems to be where my weakness lies. Stepping aside– an invitation. Our bodies awkward with the passing of time, but find each

Simon and I were driving through fields in the rural area near where he used to live. It was July. We chattered away, a hand on each others’ thigh. I wore a short black wrap dress. Everything was new, and everything about Simon excited me: his tall, slim build; auburn

…. picture me down on my knees, I’m looking up at you, pouting.  You know what I want, I want you to tell me what a good little whore I am, and what a filthy one at that….. My head is lowered, I look up at you, hopefully,  a little

So my wife has turned out to be an exhibitionist, and I’ve turned out to really like it. I’ve always liked the looks she gets from men when we’re out together – they undress her with their eyes, just as I occasionally do to their girlfriends or wives. The thrill

As we drove out of town he asked me how I was feeling. I was in la-la-la-la mode (also known as denial): I was avoiding thinking about getting naked in a very public space. We parked at a T-junction and got out to have a look around. There was a