Personal stories. Indecent details. Midlife reinvention. NIKKI MOSS is a Los Angeles-based writer covering sex, love, and desire after divorce. Her first essay is forthcoming in Playgirl.
On the Desk
Pursue men, sex, and love with humiliating abandon, cultural judgment be damned. Let experience, rather than shame, tell you what actually gives you pleasure. Spoiler: have enough men, and they stop looking like the center of the universe.
Art by J. Anderson
Goth Prom, 2026
Playgirl · Forthcoming
After nearly twenty years of marriage and a career built on being in control, I got collared for the first time at L.A.’s famous Bondage Ball, and found out what surrender can give back when it’s freely chosen.
On the Desk
In midlife, I’ve learned that one of the sexiest things a man can do is go home. On hobosexuals, domestic creep, and why intimacy shouldn’t confer squatter’s rights.
Essays in progress. Editors, these are available: bynikkimoss@gmail.com
Years of therapy, one divorce, and a few psychedelic retreats later, the voice in my head is no longer an asshole. But it often still sounds pretty unimpressed.
Sensory deprivation, a professional dominatrix, and the aftermath of no aftercare.
On sex-positive female friendship, squirting, and choosing birria ramen over an orgasm.
Watching The Wizard of Oz at the Sphere in Vegas, I realized Dorothy is definitely poly. She leaves home, assembles a motley crew of red flagged companions, enlists them to serve her agenda, and always finds her way back to herself.
I started recording myself coming for a stranger in London who liked listening. Soon I was coming again before I’d even hit send.
I host play parties now. They need sacred time for setting intentions and sharing boundaries, but still enough time left to actually play. What went wrong at this one, and how to host your own.
Delicate flesh, sticky fingers, juice that gets everywhere. On the lover who made a nectarine impossible for me to look at innocently again.
Does pillow talk have to be new material to be hot? On recycled lines, and what I actually want to hear now.
My Cancer sun wants a home. My Leo moon wants an audience. My Aquarius rising needs an exit. In my 40s, I’m finally letting all three have a say.
I spent my first adult decades with a plan for everything, including love. Dating in my 40s, I’m practicing something harder: releasing outcomes, including the one in bed.
In my early 40s, I ended a nearly two-decade marriage, climbed down the corporate ladder, and came out as bisexual.
When I started dating for the first time as a grown-up, I expected to feel lost and behind. Instead, I felt awake.
Now in my mid-40s, I’m sex-positive and ethically non-monogamous. I’ve dated couples, married folks, solo polys, kinksters, and vanilla types. I host play parties with heart, dance like a fool, and keep my tarot reader on speed dial. Next up: training in an often-misunderstood form of sexual healing. I’ve built a new community and grown closer to the old friends who love this version of me best.
Getting here took a decade of therapy, leaving my religion, unlearning its shame, and going no contact with the asshole who used to live in my head.
These essays are about saying “fuck it” and crafting a life that’s distinctively mine. It’s not a glow-up. It’s all the glorious fumbles you probably made at 25, and I’m making them now, with the lights on.
I write under a pseudonym because my body count would mortify my kids. But the stories are real.
@Editors: I’m available for personal essays, cultural commentary, and service pieces on sex, dating, kink, non-monogamy, and life after leaving religion. I’m happy to confirm my identity privately.