I like sex, and I like good writing. In this blog, I want to exercise my enthusiasm for both.

I think that the stuff that some people call smut isn’t smutty because it’s detailed; it’s smutty because the writer was writing sloppily, and making stuff up just because he thought it sounded dirty.  I don’t see why you couldn’t get as graphic and detailed as you want about how the skin and body parts feel during sex, and also try to put into words how the heart and soul feel about the funhouse ride your genitals are taking.

I also want to celebrate the extremely fortunate relationship I began in my 50s, that, to the surprise and delight of both of us, includes both deep emotional attachment and a gratifying  level of sexual excitement and enthusiasm on both of our parts.

I want to share the physical side of that relationship here, in as much graphic detail as I can present, keeping to the facts as much as humanly possible, trying to put into words the real emotions and sensations of everything from holding hands to intercourse with any body part you can name.   Sure it’s exhibitionistic, and also literary, and it’s also a tribute to the woman who brings on this torrent of affection and smut.