Michelle Zheng

Closing my legs

Sex on Tuesday

Creating art has only further stirred within me visions of broad, thick strokes of pegging and the Oakland sex parties which evoke the same divinity as Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling.
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Taylor Romine_online

Claim the experience

Sex on Tuesday

In the warm, cramped room, we lay naked together, talking. With the curtains blocking out the bright sunlight from outside, we shared ourselves, not concerned with time, the heat or anything else, for that matter. We had just finished up a round of fucking when he turned to me and
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jennifer_wong_color

Navigating the intersections of submission

Sex on Tuesday

I’d gawked the hell out of her FetLife profile photos: There’s one of her on her knees, arms tied to a spreader bar, and another of her nude on all fours, wearing a plush pair of cat ears and lapping milk out of a bowl — all for the gaze of her Dominant husband.
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jennifer_wong_color

I’ll stop writing about sex on one condition

Sex on Tuesday

Nothing soothes the shame of my secrets like finding a kindred pervert. “Does it make me kinda serial killer-y if I keep track of all the names of my sexual partners? Like trophies? Is that a thing?” Another 3 a.m. text message for the books. When I saw my best
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boni-mata

Blood is the new black

Sex on Tuesday

Maybe it’s the teenage girl in me talking, but there’s something about the surge in vampire films that has given blood sucking and hunting a renewed social capital in the depraved sex lives of our generation of perverts.
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boni-mata

On freeing the nipple

Sex on Tuesday

Someone walked up to me once on a rainy day and said, “Hey, there. I don’t mean to be rude, but I think you forgot to put a bra on today.”
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