I don’t link to Monmouth often enough these days. But then, he doesn’t post all that often, either. Always worth waiting for, though — his sex writing remains some of my favorite old-school sex blogging:

“How was she?” asked our driver. He looked at me in the rearview mirror, conspiratorial.

“You have a filthy wife, Mr. Jack.” She was sitting close to me, positioned squarely in his eyeline. I could see what they were up to, and started to unbutton her coat.

“I know… Did you take pictures?”

Jill laughed and said they were on her mobile. She’d email them to Jack and me over the next few days at inconvenient times while we were at work hundreds of miles apart. I like to imagine he was as distracted as I was when she dropped them into our mailboxes like horny little thrill bombs.

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