Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Cheating Long-Distance Girlfriend: 25, Harlem, (sort of) straight, in a relationship.DAY ONE7:15 a.m.: Running late but think about Joseph while standing over coffee pot. I'm in a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend in Paris but recently had sex with Joseph for the first time. We spend a lot of time together.
10 a.m.: Phone call to boyfriend with sweet words and such.
12:17 p.m.: Joseph and I make loose plans to hang out later. Looking forward to the amazing sex, but I don't want this to come between me and my boyfriend.
6:43 p.m.: Meet Joseph, friend, and one of friend's random girlfriends for drinks in Chelsea. Horniness is running rampant. Joseph and I make out a lot.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Self-Servicing Waiter: 25, male, Long Island City, gay, live-in boyfriend. DAY ONE 10 a.m.: Wake up horny after disturbing threesome dream with Tori Spelling and her semi-hot man. Walk naked to kitchen. Hope neighbors don't mind that we sleep in the buff. Take my daily herbal antidepressant, which I refer to as my "happy pill."
2:20 p.m.: While working on an article from home, my mind wanders to last night's activities. He's a white boy with a swimmer's build and a southern charm. I'm a Hispanic-American with a penchant for tattoos and stylish clothes. We're hot together. Erection.
3 p.m.: Xtube surfing for the last 40 minutes. Finally decide on military men with tattoos.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Saucy Bridezilla: 26, female, East Village, straight, and newly engaged!DAY ONE7:04 a.m.: Wake with a southern tingle. Still a hot mess over fiancé's surprise proposal two weeks earlier (culminating from two and a half years of togetherness and my father's behind-closed-doors declaration that I am no longer a "spring chicken.”) Don't want to rouse him earlier than his alarm. Peck his pecker and start the day.
3:24 p.m.: Search the Web for "win free wedding" contests during downtime at work. Seeing photos of happy couples gives me that super-special feeling. Eager for the 6 p.m. whistle.
6:58 p.m.: Consider buying my first porn. I’m a married woman now. After researching on the Internet, find out that talk is cheap but Tease Before the Please ($39.99) is not.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Sexed-Up Comedian With a Boss Crush: 26, female, Upper West Side, bisexual, in a relationship.DAY ONE 6 a.m.: Awaken to sensation of boyfriend's boner pushed against my ass. Not sure if I'm in the mood. Decide to fuck him in an effort to find out.
6:15 a.m.: About to come, and then dog bursts into room and licks my face. Ironic, as we're doing it doggy style. Incapable of coming with dog staring at me. Boyfriend comes anyway. Perv.
10 a.m.: Lady-boss tells me that I did a great job on the last project. She's younger and hotter than I am. I contemplate ramifications of making out with her at the Christmas party in two months. If both my boyfriend and the CEO were watching, would it still be cheating/gross professional misconduct?
Noon: Lady-boss tells me I really need to speed things up on the next project. Hate criticism. Hate lady-boss. No office-party make-out for her.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Daddyhunt Dilettante: 24, male, writer and graduate student, East Village, gay and unattached. DAY ONE 9 a.m.: I see my straight Israeli neighbor in the hallway. He's cranky and a tad rude, which makes me want him even more. 3:30 p.m.: My boss IMs me and wants me to come to her office. I have an erection, so I bring a legal pad with me. She immediately tells me she just wants to chat and I don't need a pad. Little does she know 6 p.m.: I meet a friend who's visiting the city for dinner. He's with a bunch of guys. What a disappointment: None of them are hot; one is beyond annoying. 10 p.m.: We go out for drinks after dinner. One of the guys' boyfriends meets us there. I flirt with him. 11:45 p.m.: I go home and masturbate to a shirtless Marlon Brando.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Titillating Temp Worker: 23, female, Williamsburg, journalist, bisexual, single.DAY ONE9:40 a.m.: I wake up clutching my flimsy pillow as if it is a real person. In the two months I've been single, I'm beginning to prefer polyurethane to the pricks I've been sharing my bed with lately.
6:25 p.m.: I'm thinking about calling this guy I met last week for a date, but do I really want to go out with someone who has dreadlocks? I don't do anything.
7:32 p.m.: I make sure my bra and underwear match and I'm wearing my favorite Star Wars T-shirt. In other words, I'm feeling lucky tonight or at least like getting lucky.
9:48 p.m.: My random night leads to hanging out in the hotel room of some band that has a VH1 reality show. I was expecting cocktails and feather boas on the floor. Instead, I get stoners watching HBO.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Sexually Adventurous Brooklyn Dad: 36, Clinton Hill, editor, married with two children.DAY ONE7 a.m.: Fondle Wifey's boobs in bed, pleasantly suprised she doesn't slap my hand away. I've got morning wood but we have a day trip planned. Much to do.
7:45 p.m.: Back home. Couldn't pitch a tent if I wanted to. Looking at all the haggard, fat people in the I-87 rest stops may have damaged my hormones.
7:55 p.m.: Wifey gives me soliloquy about how old (not) and fat (not) she is, asks me if I want to have sex. I say yes. She says, "Pretend I'm a cougar and you're 20 years old."
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Fat-No-Longer Woman on the Prowl: 39, Upper East Side, interior designer, straight and single.Day One12:40 p.m.: Dressed like a homeless person on my trip to get a coffee, I get a smile from a construction worker and a hello from someone who looks like a serial killer. After a decade-long “dating hiatus” due to being obese, followed by 70-pound weight loss, my initial goal was “consecutive dates with a non-weirdo.” I’ve recently revised that policy. Looks are mandatory.
12:50 p.m.: Returning to my building, see that my pervy mailman is in there. Per my usual, I circle the block to avoid him.
2:45 p.m.: Online research of the Cone, a vibrator I am curious about. It’s out of my price range for items such as this, so I earmark funds for other things to help meet a real person with whom to have actual sex: push-up bra, heels.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the randy Italian waiter: male, 33, East Village, straight in a yearlong relationship.DAY ONE7:45 a.m.: My girlfriend wakes me up. The alarm never went off; we are both incredibly late for work. I still have the presence of mind to reach out and give a lil' titty squeeze. She's a Columbia student who just turned 21 and may be the only person on the planet who digs drinking and fucking more than I do.
8:30 a.m.: On the subway. A gaggle of giggling, jiggling, Catholic schoolgirls gallop by. I remind myself that I am not a pedophile.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the sexually satisfied student: female, 21, Brooklyn, straight, NYU student, in a four-month relationship DAY ONE9 p.m.: Preparing for house party at my apartment. It is nice to actually be spending a ridiculous amount of time (45 minutes) on my appearance instead of my usual smudged eyeliner and tussled hair rushing out of the door.
10:52 p.m.: Boyfriend arrives at the party and definitely appreciates the effort, stealing kisses and whispering "I can't wait to maul you later" into my ear.
3:45 a.m.: Exhausted. Everyone needs to leave. Beer bottles, cigarettes everywhere. Floor sticky and gross. Crawl into bed to be promptly stripped and jumped.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Rabbit-Using Wannabe Slutty Secretary: female, 27, administrative assistant, Staten Island, straight.DAY 19:45 p.m.: Meet up with friends for drinks at bar. Flirt with bartender and lean over bar so he can see my breasts. Get free drinks for my friends and me.
11:39 p.m.: Dance with a couple of my girlfriends. We spot some cute guys in the corner checking us out. Decide to give the guys a show and lock lips with one another. Watch guys' jaws drop to the floor.
12:48 a.m.: Hook up with one of the cute guys checking us out earlier. Not too bright but an amazing kisser. Ask him if he wants to go back to his place. He says sure, but we have to be quiet so we don’t wake up his mother.
12:53 a.m.: I’m in a taxi heading home. Alone.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Sex-Free Middle-Ager in Love With Her First: female, 47, communications coach, Upper West Side, single.DAY ONE5:55 a.m.: I wish I could just sleep in. But I am wide awake, fantasizing about my rendezvous with an old boyfriend, Graham, two days ago in Los Angeles. Graham was also my FIRST almost 30 years ago. He looked good! I'm playing it cool, so I won't e-mail him. Instead, I'll masturbate thinking of him.
9 a.m.: Flirted with a guy walking his bulldog. I am fascinated by owners and dogs who look related. The guy's dog is like looking in the mirror!
1 p.m.: Attended my continuing-education philosophy class. To be or not to be obsessed?
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Non-Orgasmic Sex Bunny With Mild Body-Image Issues: 22, female, caterer, East Village, straight, live-in boyfriend.DAY ONE9:30 a.m.: Wake up to boyfriend's flaccid schlong. Try to be discreet about pushing a blanket to cover him up. He grunts, wakes up, gives me a stinky morning kiss.
9:45 a.m.: Shower. I scrub at my thighs, trying not to think about the last eight hours I've been sleeping with dried semen crusted onto them. Gross.
10:30 a.m.: I notice a fresh used condom, folded into itself, unwrapped on the corner of East 14th Street and Second Avenue. People step over it like it's just another discarded gum wrapper or cigarette butt. Did someone do the dirty in a taxi? Throw the condom out the window? Who knows? I step over it to the L stop.
10:30 p.m.: Boyfriend is obviously in the mood. He plies me with Merlot and a box of Godiva he picked up on his way home. It works. Routine sex, both of us asleep by 11:30. I don't cum, I never have.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Self-Lovin' Midtowner in a Long-Distance Relationship: female, 22, media researcher, Manhattan, straight, in a long-distance relationship.DAY ONE8:30 a.m.: Woke up late and horny. Resisted the urge to call in sick and spend the whole day masturbating.
11:15 a.m.: Notice my older and married co-workers flirting. Get excited not by them per se, but by the inherent naughtiness of an inter-office affair.
5:30 p.m.: Knowing my long-distance boyfriend will be coming into town in 36 hours, I resist the urge to masturbate.
7 p.m.: I am so frustrated that I get online and look up the Nympho-Girl.com blog. It makes me unbearably hot, and I finally succumb to my masturbation urges.
9 p.m.: I go to my favorite online adult site and order some special toys for my boyfriend's visit. Express shipping.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Frisky, Sexually Frustrated, Post-Knee-Operation Writer: female, 43, writer, Prospect Heights, married.DAY ONE8:15 a.m.: My guy told me I look like a Sports Illustrated model this morning, lying on the bed. This comment brought a flush to my cheeks, since, at 43 and soft from five recent knee and ankle operations, I’d given up on that job possibility. Note to self: Buy more three-button tank tops.
8:16 a.m.: Still lying on the bed alone. Why? Because this is what happens when every attempt at sex brings howls of pain from you and fear into the eyes of your lover. (Oh! Move off my knee! Ouch! You kicked my ankle! My back! My back!) You end up on the bed alone, even if you are a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model.
8:39 a.m.: When I attempt a seductive pose in the tank top in front of him, now wet from the shower, he reminds me that he has to go to work (yes, on a weekend) and that my timing is off, as usual. He says, “Save that pose for me tonight.”
4:30 p.m.: I practice my posing with a straight face.
9:45 p.m.: As we lie in the bed tonight, me on a heating pad, him listening to the blues on earphones, the only pose I attempt is repose. Sigh.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Spicy Undergraduate Maid: female, 19, single, Bay Ridge, bisexual.DAY ONE1 a.m.: Leave work, which at the moment is doing odd jobs for a local guy, cleaning and such. Think about how awesome my boss is and how my crush on him keeps getting crush-ier.
12:20 p.m.: Go sunbathing in the park. Wonder if the person of my dreams is sitting by the bay, or perhaps taking a jog through the park. Hope he/she magically senses the need to come discover me.
10 p.m.: I interview for a waitressing job. My sketchy, older potential employer offers me money to train me as a body-rub girl. "Your legs look tight," he says. Gross.
11:15 p.m.: Return home. My roommate is smashed, naked, and in bed with her boxer-clad boyfriend. I hang out to make sure she's alright. The boyfriend feeds me shots before they both go to sleep.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Royal the Horny Hedgie: female, 26, hedge-fund analyst, Soho, cohabiting with boyfriend.DAY ONE6:15 a.m.: Boyfriend rolls over and kisses my shoulder. I don’t react. Spoons me and pushes himself into my back. I shrug him off. He kisses me on the cheek and gets up. He’s so nice. I smile.
7 a.m.: Brushing hair, brushing teeth, lathering on lotion. Boyfriend moves in behind me and grabs my breasts; I welcome the support as I’ve yet to put a bra on. He says something about how I make him hot. I roll my eyes and motion him out the door.
7:30 a.m.: As we leave apartment, we kiss. He moves his hands down my neck and shoulders bringing them in and resting them on my breasts. He smells unreal, and for a minute I consider a quickie, but it’s a fleeting thought. Don’t want to endure wrath from tight-ass coworkers for being late.
3:30 p.m.: Bored. Scroll through AmateurEros.net. Love the real pics of girls. Imagine three-way with boyfriend and the girl with large nipples. Way too much of a sissy to bring it up, annoyed with self for not being more open.
7 p.m.: At home, changing for gym but decide to linger around in a thong. Making conversation with boyfriend, pretending not to notice he’s turned on. Start kissing in the kitchen, and he’s tracing my breasts with his fingers. Strip each other down. Straddle him as he sits on the edge of the bed. I come first within minutes; he’s not far behind.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Royal Duchess of Sluttiness: female, 28, bisexual, student, Harlem, in an open straight relationship.
DAY ONE12:07 a.m.: End of a Craigslist blind date. He'd promised it would be tame, and it was at first, just kisses and fondling. Then he tried unsafe sex, and I got turned off and left.
12:35 a.m.: Call my boyfriend, try to convince him to wake up for sex. End up cooing him to sleep. He's an older fellow who is cool with my lesbian sexcapades.
7:45 a.m.: Want to masturbate, but I'm late to class.
5:50 p.m.: The little girl I babysit sees a man and a woman making out in a car. "That's you and your boyfriend," she teases. "Naw, we're motorcycle riders," I reply.
6:30 p.m.: My favorite ex calls for some rainy sexcapades. I accept.
6:57 p.m.: Boyfriend tries to woo me over. I say no.
7:10 p.m.: The ex cancels.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Unfulfilled Circus Performer: female, 40, in a relationship, Brooklyn.DAY ONE10:30 a.m.: We’re both walking around mostly naked. I say, “I haven’t put anything in my sex journal yet.” He answers, “What?! I’ve had like ten thoughts about sex already.” Why haven’t we been doing it all day?
10:50 a.m.: If he thinks about sex so much, how come we aren’t doing it every day? Our sex life has gone from 60 to 0 in two years. We used to have such great sex — kinky, wild, fun, and affectionate — and now I’m lucky if I get one missionary-style session a week. He used to be the one buying zip ties and pinning me against cold tiles in public bathrooms. Thinking about it makes me feel angry and rejected.
2:45 p.m.: Leaving rehearsal I tell the hot Australian that I have a blister. He takes my hand in his to look at it. For a moment I think he’s going to kiss my boo-boo. He doesn’t.
2:20 a.m.: I lie on top of my hot younger boyfriend while he’s reading in bed. I kiss his neck and bare back. Then I lie next to him and stroke the soft skin on his butt cheeks. It turns me on, but we’re both sleepy and nothing happens.
Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Horny Mommy: female, 37, database designer, Bedford Stuyvesant, parent, in a relationship.DAY ONE9:06 a.m.: See guy on subway platform with gorgeous curly hair. I wonder if our potential kids would come out with that lovely mane.
9:07 a.m.: He turns around. Never mind.
12:07 p.m.: Finally get last night's Today sponge out. Gravity is good.
1 p.m.: See a twentysomething girl’s perky breasts bouncing as she walks. I need a boob job. Gravity is not so good.
3:25 p.m.: Co-worker hopes that she’ll get a man within the next five years(!). I thank my lucky stars I’ve found someone.
5:11 p.m.: See fab body-builder type. Desperately wish I had already gotten the boob job.