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May 16, 2016 · 5:56 pm

Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Smooth Shave Edition

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While I’m a fan of manly beards, I don’t deny that there’s a unique appeal to smoothly-shaven skin. Whether it’s on your face, legs, chest, or genitals, there’s a lot to like about that clean, crisp feeling. Sometimes, that’s a feeling you want to enjoy, both for yourself and for your lover.

I’ve recounted times when I’ve let my hair just grow out. It had its share of appeals. It helped me look more rugged and manly. That was fun, but it became somewhat of a challenge when I wanted to have a more formal look. Over time, I learned that when I shave my face and cut my hair before such occasions, I can look pretty damn sophisticated.

I value that look. Many men feel the same way. Many women have equally strong feelings about a smooth shave, especially when it comes to their legs. This is the time of year when women finally get to show their legs off again. As someone who is very much in favor of women showing off their sexy skin, I definitely value that too.

There are plenty of circumstances in which that rugged, unshaven look works. Those moments can have plenty of sex appeal. The same goes for that smooth-shaven feeling. Both have plenty of potential for sexiness. Both are worth celebrating. This round of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts should help in that effort. Enjoy!


“Technically, a pimp is just a middleman to a pricey orgasm.”


“When you’re horny, your brain often betrays you just after your genitals.”


“If love is ultimate drug, then divorce is the ultimate hangover.”


“Ironically, stupidity is responsible for both increasing and decreasing a population.”


“Falling in love is correlated, but not caused by a willingness to give oral sex.”


“In the right circumstances, make-up sex can be both therapeutic and self-destructive.”


“A man’s porn stash can be just as revealing as a woman’s choice in vibrators.”


Whether you prefer a look that’s rugged or clean-cut, there are a great many ways to be sexy. Hair, wherever it is on your body, can help supplement that sexiness. A cleanly shaven face or cleanly shaven legs offers so much, in terms of intimate touch. As summer approaches, this is as good a time as any to appreciate it.

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“The Quiet Stud” A Sexy Short Story

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The following is a sexy short story inspired by a former roommate who was scrawny in stature, but had other “attributes” that made him very popular with the ladies. If he ever reads this, I hope he appreciates it. Enjoy!

“What’s with that guy in the corner?”

“I don’t know. He’s been working here for years and he’s barely said a word.”

“I’m not sure what to make of him. Word is he’s a bit of a recluse.”

“I hear he has issues…as in, issues that require medication, therapy, and a social worker.”

“I hear he’s just plain fucking weird.”

Hellen Hyland snickered to herself as she heard that all-too-familiar conversation unfold. The company had just had its biweekly meeting. As the young paralegal tasked with handing the boring paperwork, she knew how to fade into the background while the overpaid, overdressed executives discussed the business of the day. However, it was often after the meeting ended that the more interesting conversations emerged.

A frequent subject of those conversations was Terry Rhinehart, the overly quiet man in the neatly-pressed suits who rarely said a word. He rarely had to, for the most part. He was an accountant with the finance department. Much of his day centered around staring at spreadsheets, crunching numbers, and balancing the books. By all accounts, he did that job very well. In fact, Terry might have been the only employee that the director hadn’t yelled at all year.

On top of that, he wasn’t too imposing. He wasn’t tall, muscular, or charismatic. Some had even called him scrawny and he probably wouldn’t have argued. He looked like the kind of guy who did everything possible to skip gym class in high school. He was the last person most would pick to be on the company softball team. Had Hellen not known him, she wouldn’t have paid much attention to all those off-hand conversations about him.

However, Hellen did know Terry. In fact, she knew him intimately. It wasn’t common knowledge throughout the office, but she and Terry had been an item for nearly a year. In that time, she’d gotten to know the quiet young man behind those neatly-pressed suits. In the process, she’d also learned there was more man within that undersized stature than they thought.

“If only they knew,” Hellen said, shaking her head as she gathered her notes.

Smiling to herself, hiding her demeanor as she exited the conference room, she made her way back to the tiny desk within the sea of cubicles that made up the heart of the company. It was the middle of the day so almost everybody was already stressed out and planning their lunch break. Being a proactive person, by nature, Hellen had already made plans.

“It’s 11:30 and I’m officially ahead of schedule,” she said upon checking the clock after filing away her notes. “That means I have extra time. I’d better use it wisely.”

Still smiling, Hellen slipped away from her desk before her supervisor could drop by and stick her with a meaningless task. She then made her way to the far corner of the office floor. It was an area where few ventured, mostly because there wasn’t much there aside from old filing cabinets and storage areas. It didn’t even have windows with a decent view of the office campus. The only notable feature was Terry Rhinehart’s cubical.

It was such a quiet area, one befitting of such a quiet man. It also had an aura of mystery, being a nook in the office that few rarely ventured. It was part of what had drawn Hellen to Terry in the first place. That curiosity paid off in a big way…one that went beyond any mystery.

“Terry,” she called out as she approached his cube.

She didn’t get a response. She didn’t expect to. She could hear the rapid typing on the keyboard, the mark of a focused, fast-working mind. Hellen knew he heard her, but it often took more to get him out of that zone of his.

“Terry, it’s 11:30 a.m. and department heads are still entertaining the consultants,” she told him. “That means they’ll spend no less than 15 minutes brown-nosing the one with the biggest bank account. That gives us something we haven’t had lately…time.”

Upon hearing that, the fast typing stopped. The cramped, but meticulously organized cubicle fell silent. It was the kind of silence that made Hellen weak in the knees, but for the best possible reason.

Terry turned around in his chair, revealing to her the neatly-dressed, perfectly-groomed young man with a small, yet endearing presence. On the surface, he was still unimposing. One of her co-workers once described him as an extra from a 1950s American sitcom, complete with a pocket protector and a sweater vest. However, in Terry Rhinehart, Hellen saw so much more in him.

“I take it the meeting went well if it ended on time,” said Terry in that deep, analytical voice of his.

“I’d certainly say so. Are you going to review my notes to make sure?” Hellen asked, half-teasingly.

“I’ll take your word for it, Hellen. You’ve given me plenty of reasons to trust you.”

“For what I’ve contributed, professionally and otherwise, I sure as hell hope so.”

“You have,” he said strongly, “and if the consultants didn’t drag the meeting out, then that means they’re receptive. If they’re receptive, that means they’re willing to negotiate. If they’re willing to negotiate, then that means we’ll have upwards of 30 minutes…more than we’ve had in the past three months.”

Hellen’s grin widened and her legs shifted awkwardly for reasons that only Terry understood. Leave it to a numbers nerd to crunch data like that so quickly. The fact he was that thorough when it came to making time for her only made her love him more. At the same time, it boded well for how they would make use of that time.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to make use of every minute,” said Hellen.

“I’d like that too,” said Terry. “I’d like that a lot.”

Then, he did something that would’ve freaked out everyone else at the office. He smiled.

Given his reputation as a recluse and a number-loving nerd, the idea that Terry Rhinehart could smile must have seemed outrageous. The fact was that he had a beautiful smile. He just chose to share it to those who mattered and the idea that she mattered that much to him only made Hellen’s excitement grow.

“Where should we do it this time?” Hellen asked him. “The parking lot is always crowded during lunch time and the stairwell gets pretty noisy during this time of day.”

“Then, I suppose we’ll make due with the utility closet upstairs,” said Terry. “The cleaning crew isn’t due to show up for another two hours. That gives us a comfortable window.”

Hellen would’ve laughed if urgency hadn’t taken over. Trusting his lover’s knowledge of the custodial staff’s schedule, she took his hand and followed him towards the nearest stairwell, away from prying eyes and curious onlookers. Even if anyone had seen them, they would’ve just seen two co-workers taking an early lunch break. They had no idea what was about to unfold.

With an efficiency befitting of two detail-orientated individuals, they make their way to the sixth floor just above theirs. Upon exiting the stairwell, they slipped into one of the halls adjacent to the main foyer. There wasn’t much going on. That was to be expected. Nobody came up to the sixth floor very often. It had been undergoing renovations for the past five months, which made it a quiet, secluded area.

That was just what they needed, but being more overly-cautious than most, Hellen made sure there was nobody looking when they arrived at the utility closet located in between the vacant bathrooms. Being responsible for keeping the office clean, she had a key and was able to unlock it, giving her and Terry access to a confined area free of witnesses and judgment.

“In here,” Hellen said, already breathless with anticipation. “We’d better hurry!”

“Would you prefer it to be quick? Or would you prefer it to be efficient?” Terry whispered into her ear from behind, his soft voice making her legs tremble again.

“I think you know which I prefer.”

As soon as the door opened, she and Terry slipped inside, having successfully evaded detection. From there, the quiet, reserved man that everyone else knew faded. The second she locked door locked and turned the light on, another persona emerged.

“It’s been one week, four days, and nine hours since our last mid-day rendezvous,” Terry said as he drew her into his embrace. “That’s a long, long time to go without knowing your intimate touch.”

“Trust me. The wait was more agonizing for me,” Hellen told him intently.

“I find that doubtful. Care to prove it?”

He was so demanding and intense, a far cry from the soft-spoken accountant that everyone knew. He spoke with a manliness of a man twice his size and a half-foot taller. It was the kind of persona that drove Hellen wild in all the right ways. It also gave her an opportunity to show that she could be more than the sweet, innocent paralegal who most ignored.

“You’re a man of hard facts and definitive proofs,” Hellen said, her voice taking on a more seductive tone. “Lucky for you, I’m a woman capable of many proofs.”

“I know. I just love seeing you do the work,” said Terry, his embrace becoming more intense.

“Trust me. I love it more than you!”

Rising to the challenge, Hellen unleashed her own naughty side. She captured his lips with hers, threw her arms around his neck, and hungrily pressed her clothed body up against his. She showed more energy in that private moment than she ever showed publicly. There was nothing meek, mild, or reserved about it. There was just raw, unfiltered passion mixed with lust.

As the kissing intensified, she began pawing his upper body, feeling over that neatly pressed suit of his. His frame might have been wiry, but she could still a very masculine strength in his muscles. It showed even more when he reached up her dress and grazed his hand over her underwear, triggering a surge of arousal that added more urgency to their touching.

“Terry…your pants,” she gasped in the midst of all the touching and kissing.

He got the message. With their lips still entwined, he undid his belt buckle and unzipped his pants. Almost immediately, Hellen dropped to his knees and eagerly aided him. In an instant, his neatly-pressed slacks dropped to the floor in a wrinkled heap. At the same time, Hellen came face-to-face with a growing bulge in those plain white boxers Terry always wore…a bulge that grew larger than most would’ve imagined.

“Wow! Talk about hard facts,” she teased.

“It helps to be thorough,” Terry said.

“Indeed,” said Hellen, “and being a paralegal, I know all about being thorough.”

Licking her lips in anticipation, shedding what remained of the shy innocence that she often exercised, she pulled down his boxers to reveal his growing manhood. In doing so, she exposed what might have been the biggest secret of Terry Rhinehart…literally and figuratively.

“Terry,” Hellen said with a mix of awe and lust, “such a handsome, hunky man.”

He gazed down at her and grinned, standing with a poise of someone at least a foot taller. He deserved to because, despite his undersized frame, Terry packed a level of male endowment that put male porn stars to shame.

He had a big dick. There was no other way of putting it. Hellen remembered how shocked she’d been when she first saw it, marveling at how a man so physically unremarkable could have such a remarkable feature. She’d been with enough men and seen enough porn to know that the dimensions of Terry’s anatomy were above average, to say the least. She’d also had enough sexual experience to know how much she loved big, hulking dicks.

Some women might have hesitated to even touch a dick that big, let alone suck or fuck it in any way. Hellen didn’t waste a second of their private time, taking the massive endowment in both hands and engulfing the tip in her soft lips.

“Mmm…this is what I want,” she purred, “my secret stud’s big, throbbing cock.”

“And you…my cute little nymph,” Terry said as he ran his fingers through her hair, “you’re the only one who can handle it.”

Hellen shot him another seductive gaze as she initiated her unique approach to oral sex. Much like her work on legal briefs, she was attentive to detail. She started slow, using her tongue to trace every intricate contour. Then, she sucked softly around the tip while stroking the shaft. That helped get Terry’s blood flowing in all the right ways. As he got harder and harder, she took more of his length into her mouth, showing off a gag reflex that most wouldn’t expect of a shy office worker who’d always dressed modestly.

“That’s it! Just like that,” Terry grunted. “Hellen…so thorough.”

Harder and faster, she sucked off her undersized stud. She took as much his massive length into her throat as her gag reflex would allow. She knew Terry had been with other women before. He’d told her more than once that none could deep-throat his massive endowment as well as her.

Beyond taking pride in those oral sex skills, it also helped get her aroused as well. It might have been a dirty cliché, her getting horny from sucking a dick. It sounded like a sordid male fantasy, but there was no denying the results. Hellen could already feel her panties getting hot and moist. Even as she stroked and sucked her lover’s cock, she rubbed her thighs together to contain the growing arousal. She knew as well as Terry she could only do so for so long.

“Terry,” she said, gasping after licking along the full length of his cock, “I’m so wet right now.”

“And we’re ahead of schedule,” he told her intently.

“Well, you know I like to be proactive.”

“That, I do.”

Not needing any further prompting, Hellen followed her escalating lust alongside that of her lover. As soon as she shot from the floor, she undid the back zipper of her dress and slid it off, along with her panties. Terry also stepped out of his pants in the process, showing a rare lack of regard for his clothes as he kicked them aside.

Now both naked from the waist down, Hellen sensed Terry’s gaze narrow on her. Showing more strength and initiative than he’d ever shown in all his years at the office, he grabbed her by the waist, turned her around, and pushed her up against the wall. He wasn’t too rough, but he wasn’t too gentle either, showing just the right amount of initiative.

As she pressed against the cold metal door, she felt Terry carefully part her legs and push up her blouse so that he had a clear path to her womanhood. Being the efficient worker he was, he wasted no time, grabbing hold of her waist and guiding the tip of his massive endowment to her wet entrance. As soon as she felt the tip rub up against her wet slit, he thrust his hips forward.

What followed was a testament to the durability of female anatomy and Hellen’s immense fondness for big, throbbing cocks.

“Oohhh Terry!” she cried out, her voice echoing loudly within the utility closet.

It was rare she could be that vocal. Usually, when they hooked up at work, they had to be discrete and quiet. Since nobody was on the sixth floor, she could afford to be a little loader. Given how much her lover stretched her insides and probed her depths, it was refreshing.

“Hellen…so wet and tight,” Terry grunted.

Through more grunts, he began moving his hips, making love to her within the confined, dingy ambience of the utility closet. It was hardly the most intimate, romantic setting. That didn’t matter. It still filled Hellen with the kind of intense, raw sensations that she craved.

It felt like a tremor that morphed into a full-fledged Earthquake, the feeling of such a long, hard cock pumping into her vagina. Terry stretched and penetrated her in ways that tested her resilience, but she relished passing those tests at every turn. With each thrust of his hips and slither of his member, he stimulated parts of her body that few women could hope to experience with a man, let alone one of Terry’s stature.

Taking such a well-endowed man was strenuous at times, often walking that fine line between pleasure and pain. Hellen, whether by kink or personal taste, loved walking that line. It perfectly fit her work ethic, enduring the strain to enjoy the rewards. Hellen liked to think she appreciated that strain more than most. The fact that it made for such great sex with a man as hung as Terry was a nice bonus.

“Yes! Oohhh yes!” she cried out. “Harder, Terry! Harder!”

Terry heeded her urgent cries, thrusting harder and faster, his bulging cock moving smoothly within her wet folds. Again, he showed power and strength that didn’t seem to match his size. That only made it more satisfying to Hellen. It showed that a strong, powerful man need not have the stature to show it. If anything, Terry’s undersized form made him work harder when it came to making love to a woman and Hellen was the direct benefactor of that work.

As they humped, swayed, and gyrated to their sensual dance, Terry supplemented his efforts by reaching around and fondling her clit. He once claimed he had calculated the exact amount of pressure necessary to bring a woman to orgasm. Hellen had long since stopped doubting that. He also reached up her shirt and felt her swaying breasts, something else he knew she loved. It helped bring her to the brink of orgasm with an efficiency that only two detail-oriented lovers could appreciate.

“Yes, Terry! Just like that! Just…like that!” Hellen gasped. “I’m almost…almost there!”

“Me too, Hellen,” he gasped. “Me…too!”

In another burst of energy, Hellen leaned up against the door even harder, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as she ventured into that special world of ecstasy. Terry reached around and kissed down her neck, still pumping into her womanhood with his cock and fondling her clit with his right hand. She could feel how close he was too with the way his massive member throbbed inside her.

He was always so courteous, letting her have her pleasure first before enjoying his own. When he sent her over the edge, Hellen made it a point to reach behind and fondle his neatly-combed hair as she let out her cry of euphoria.

“OOHHH TERRY!”

Her orgasmic cry echoed loudly throughout the confined closet. She swore the whole floor shook as he delivered the final few thrusts, sending her over the edge and into that pool of ecstasy. Had his embrace on her not been so strong, her legs would’ve buckled. Once again showing uncanny strength, he held her close as she climaxed.

Wave after wave of hot bliss coursed through her body, starting as a hot ball of fire within her core and spreading out in every direction. As her world shook, her inner muscles tightened around her lover’s massive cock, which helped send him over the edge as well. He wasn’t quite as loud when he climax. He didn’t need to be. True to his nature, he let his actions do the talking.

“Hellen…” was the most he got out.

Her body shuddered. His tensed. Together, they clung to one another as they writhed in orgasmic delight. It was a perfect harmony of ecstasy, one born by unleashing the desire and energy that they kept hidden from so many others.

Even as their hearts beat together and their flesh remained entwined, Hellen managed to turn her head just enough to capture Terry’s lips in another kiss. Through the intense desire and naked lust, a perfect dose of love always found a way into their sex. It further strengthened the balance, affirming to them a feeling that they kept so secret, but savored at every opportunity.

“I love you, Terry,” Hellen said as she caught her breath, “my quiet, soft-spoken stud.”

“I love you too,” Terry whispered into her ear, “my kinky little sex fiend.”

“You know…people think a lot of weird things about you…about us.”

“Let them think what they want. Let them see us as quiet, reserved stiffs. This…what we share in private and in secret…this is ours and no one else’s.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They shared another kiss before their bodies parted. They then collected themselves, putting their clothes back on and fixing their appearance. That always took a while, trying to make it so they didn’t look like they’d just had hot sex in a dirty closet. Terry always took longer, straightening out his shirt, tie, and slacks until they were perfect. It was tedious, but worth the effort.

As soon as they stepped out of the closet, they went back to being who everyone thought they were. They returned to a world that saw them as quiet, reserved, and unremarkable. Nobody ever would’ve expected that Terry Rhinehart was a well-hung stud or that she was a self-admitted sex fiend. Even if someone told them, they never would’ve believed it.

That was exactly how they wanted it, though. In the end, that was what made their love, their sex, and their unique tastes in intimacy so special.

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Daily Sexy Musing: First Crush

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Who doesn’t remember their first crush? I ask that question knowing that some people cringe at the memory of who they used to pine for. At the same time, there are some people who ended up marrying their first crush. Some of them are still together. For romantically-minded people, it can be both beautiful and sobering.

Growing up, I was a socially awkward kid with little confidence and an acne problem. However, that same awkwardness made the attraction I felt to girls seem more intense. I think some of it played a part in me becoming such a romance fan. That was especially true of my first crush.

I’ve talked about it before and while nothing came of it, I still remember it fondly on many levels. It marked the first time I sought to connect with someone on a level deeper than friendship. It also helped remind me that I wasn’t a kid anymore. These were mature, adult feelings. They were overwhelming and stressful, but they were also exciting and new.

Regardless of who our first crush was and what came of it, if anything, it’s often one of those pivotal moments that sticks out whenever we look back on our lives. We don’t always appreciate those moments, especially if they’re embarrassing. It’s still a major milestone. It’s the moment we start seeking love, sex, and everything that goes with it. I hope this Daily Sexy Musing makes those moments more memorable. Enjoy!

It starts with an idea.

It turns into a spark.

It grows into a flame.

It becomes a defining moment.

In my young, inexperienced mind, everything is so new and mysterious. The world seems so daunting, but my desires are so basic. I long to embrace, connect, and love. I just don’t know how or why. The child in me has become more silent. A new voice is emerging and it’s drawing me to you.

In a sea of many others, you somehow stand out. When I look at you, I don’t just see another figure navigating the boundless chaos. I see a beacon of light through dark, choppy waters. The mere sound of your voice draws me in with hypnotic allure. I don’t understand it, but I feel its power.

I’m scored, but excited.

I’m confused, but focused.

I’m lost, but driven.

This feels so strange, but it seems so right. I don’t call it love. I’m too young for that. The lingering child in me clings to a simpler understanding. Love is for mommies and daddies. It’s for children and their parents. I’m not ready for it. I don’t want to be ready. However, it’s too late.

I think I want to be with you.

I think I want to embrace you.

I think I want to love you.

Thoughts and feelings clash. Hormones and influences add fuel to the fire. Just being near you renders me short of breath. I cannot hope to process it. I have no idea how to act. I don’t even know if you feel the same.

The unknowns are many and the certainties are few. Within those select few, I realize one important truth.

I have a crush.

I know love.

No matter how overwhelming or mysterious it may feel, I like it and I hope to love it.

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The (Surprising) Sources And Implications Of Slut Shaming

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As a fan of romance and people exploring their sexy side, I’m generally opposed to slut shaming. I understand why it exists, to some extent. Nearly every society in history has had certain hang-ups about sex. Considering its role in propagating the species, it’s understandable that people give it extra scrutiny.

That said, I consider slut shaming a misguided form of scrutiny. The definition, itself, has some ugly implications that go far beyond the inherent risks associated with being reckless, promiscuous, and irresponsible.

For one, it’s almost entirely heaped upon women. James Bond never gets called a slut for his promiscuous behavior. Instead, he gets to be a masculine icon. A woman who has just as much sex gets called a slut and is often painted as deviant. Look no further than legendary Bond girls like Xania Onatopp and Pussy Galore for proof of that.

While it can be pretty overt in popular media, it’s even more pernicious in real life. From women who choose wear revealing clothing to those who actively attempt to confront sexual stigma, there’s no shortage of shaming from multiple directions. It’s frustrating in that it amounts to incessant whining about how other people choose to live their lives, but recent research has cast slut shaming in a new light.

A study published in the Journal of Evolution and Human Behavior attempted to analyze how behaviors associated with slut shaming differed among genders. The popular narrative is that men do most of the slut shaming. The logic is that men see beautiful women having a lot of sex. That bothers them because those women aren’t having sex with them.

Granted, that’s a gross generalization that I’m sure many men and even a few women find offensive. Despite the details, that is the common narrative and it tends to play out in one too many teen comedies. However, science has a way of disrupting those narratives in unexpected ways.

The study revealed that while men and women were equally likely to not trust promiscuous women, women who were more likely to favor punishing those women. In a comprehensive summary conducted by PsyPost, the differences were pretty striking.

“In the study, participants played one of three kinds of economic decision-making games. The participants were led to believe they were playing against a female opponent in real-time, but were actually only interacting with computerized responses.

The opponents varied in whether they appeared to be sexually accessible or sexually restricted. For some participants, the opponent was depicted as a woman wearing a tight, red outfit and an abundance of makeup. For others, the opponent was depicted as a woman wearing loose-fitting clothing with less makeup.

The researchers found that both male and female participants were less willing to share money with a woman wearing the tight outfit. The participants also trusted sexually-accessible opponents with a financial investment less than sexually-restrictive opponents.

Women, but not men, were also willing to inflict punishments on a sexually-accessible female opponent who made an unfair offer, even though it left them empty-handed as well.

Given the choice between receiving a small sum of money while their opponent took a large sum or having neither player receive any money at all, women tended to pick the latter option.”

Take a moment to comprehend what this does to the slut shaming narrative. For those who idealize that 1950s sitcom family life that never truly existed, it’s an aberration. While those women make for good one-night-stands, they hardly make for quality long-term relationships.

Why, then, would men be reluctant to punish those women? I’ve noted before how society tends to micromanage women’s bodies. Slut shaming is only a half-measure because it offers no tangible punishment. While certain societies don’t mind punishing promiscuous women, it doesn’t appear to be entirely predicated on male attitudes.

This study shows that women are just as mistrustful of promiscuous women and are willing to go further in terms of punishing their behavior. The reasons for this are difficult to surmise. The researchers hypothesized that men were primarily concerned with avoiding investment in a child that wasn’t theirs. From an evolutionary standpoint, that’s something to avoid, but not punish.

Conversely, women may be more concerned with the bigger picture. The researchers surmised that women had an evolutionary imperative to keep the cost of sex high to improve their value as potential partners. Actively punishing potential rivals further served that purpose.

From a logistical standpoint, it makes sense. They see beautiful, promiscuous women as people who use cheat codes in video games. They have an unfair advantage when it comes to attracting potential partners and that has significant consequences, especially to those who aren’t beautiful or sexually flexible.

Beyond distracting partners who might otherwise be interested in them, it lowers the value of the sex they have to offer. Why would men be as interested in having sex with them when there are promiscuous women who were willing to give it to them for a lower cost with fewer strings?

While I believe this may be a factor for some women, it’s also another broad generalization that would offend more than a few women. It assumes too much about how they think and feel. Believing women slut shame because it hinders their own sexual value is as absurd as blaming all misogyny on some vast patriarchal conspiracy.

Like all research, the study is limited and can only reveal so much about the complexities of human behavior. The researchers themselves freely admitted this, but that’s exactly why it warrants further study. Like it or not, slut shaming is still prominent in most modern societies. I would argue that the internet and social media are making it worse.

At the same time, I also believe that slut shaming is something we should confront. It causes real harm to real people. It damages our love lives, our sex lives, and everything in between. There are instances in which someone’s irresponsible sexual behavior genuinely warrants scrutiny, but shaming can only serve to make things worse, even for people who aren’t sluts.

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“Rick and Morty” Season 4 Is Coming In November!

We’ve all been waiting so patiently.

It feels like it’s been forever since we saw a new episode of “Rick and Morty.”

Now, we can all take an extra shot of whiskey.

Season 4 is on its way, starting in November 2019!

Wubba Lubba Dub Dub!

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Jack Fisher’s Weekly Quick Pick Comic: War Of The Realms #4

Once a week, the benevolent lords of the comic book world and the corporations they serve grace us with a new stack of comics. At a time when only the headlines of The Onion don’t make you cringe, this world needs the joy they offer. As such, I make it a point to single out one comic from that stack that offers the most value for the joy it conveys.

Some comics succeed by focusing on character development, as is often the case in most X-Men comics. Some succeed by subverting or stretching common superhero tropes, as we often see in comics like Kick-Ass, Invincible, or The Punisher. However, a book need not be overly creative to qualify as an awesome comic. It just needs to take everything we love and turn the volume up to 11.

That’s exactly what “War Of The Realms #4” does and then some. It’s one of those books where you need only real the title to know the scope and scale of the story within. This is not just superheroes in flashy costumes battling killer robots on the streets of a big city. This is a war that spans multiple realms involving gods, demigods, evil elves, and frost giants. If you can’t be entertained by that, then you’re just being difficult.

That said, “War Of The Realms #4” is not just several dozen pages of flashy action scenes. There have been plenty of those moments since this event began, but the action was mostly a means of conveying the sheer breadth of this war. Now, the writer of this Marvel main event, Jason Aaron, has raised the stakes even more by making it personal and turning the tide of the battle.

While you don’t have to know too much about the mythos surrounding Asgard and the 10 realms, it certainly helps in this case. Even if you’ve only seen “Thor: The Dark World,” you’ll have enough insight to know why this war is so massive. Malekith the Accursed might have been an afterthought in that movie, but make no mistake. He’s a devious, scheming, evil badass that requires a fully assembled team of Avengers to combat.

For the past three issues, Malekith and forces that include Frost Giants, Angels, Fire Demons, and Dark Elves have led a massive invasion of Earth. It’s not just in New York City, either. Malekith has bigger ambitions than simply disrupting traffic on Broadway. His forces hit every continent.

To this point, there has been no stopping him. Despite the Avengers fighting back on every front, teaming up with the likes of Spider-Man, Blade, Wolverine, Daredevil, Punisher, and Ghost Rider, it still isn’t enough. They still find themselves pushed back, beleaguered, and overwhelmed.

As a result, there have been casualties in this war. Some have already hit certain characters harder than others. Thor, the one usually tasked with beating the unholy shit out of Malekith before he can launch an invasion, is effectively subdued before he hammer back the threat. It is, by far, the most successful attack Malekith has ever launched against his Asgardian nemesis.

That means winning the war won’t come from Thor swinging his hammer around and hitting anything that looks like an evil elf. The Avengers and heroes from across the Marvel landscape have to join in the battle. They’ve managed to fight back, if only to keep the battle going. However, they haven’t made much progress in terms of ending it.

That changes in “War Of The Realms #4” and in some incredibly satisfying ways. Aaron, with the help of the divine artwork of Russel Dauterman, shifts the course of the battle by giving Odin and Freyja an overdue moment that has been years in the making. It’s a moment that marks an emotional high point for this event and for Thor’s overall story.

For the past several years, some of Thor’s biggest battles involve his parents. Odin and Freyja may have come off as only somewhat overbearing in the movies, but things are far more dysfunctional in the comics. There have been times when they’ve actively opposed one another. At one point, Odin even fought Jane Foster when she was wielding Thor’s hammer.

He is a divine blow-hard who most fluent language is arrogance. Freyja has managed to temper his tendencies in the past, but those moments have become few and far between. For a while, they were the godly equivalent of a married couple attempting a trial separation and making everything worse. They still see each other as husband and wife, but it seems like a formality at this point.

Finally, they share a moment in “War Of The Realms #4” that affirms why they got married in the first place. It’s a moment that will likely define the course of this realm-spanning war and have major implications for Thor, Asgard, the Avengers, and every other creature that has tasted an Uru hammer.

I won’t spoil the details of that moment. I’ll just say that it’s a culmination that has been in the works since before the war began. Every big battle, whether it’s in a comic book, a movie, or a TV show with a massive budget, needs a moment like that to give the conflict some emotional weight. That weight has been somewhat lacking since this event began, but “War Of The Realms #4” delivers in a way that feels satisfying and thrilling.

There are other moments in between. Aaron never lets the plot become too chaotic and Dauterman makes sure there’s always a spectacle to admire. Many characters manage to shine through the fog of war, including Ghost Rider, the Punisher, and Jane Foster.

It’s still a big, flashy war featuring superheroes, gods, and monsters from every corner of the Marvel universe. It has all the flashy style to make this realm-spanning war feel like a major event, but “War Of The Realms #4” gives it the necessary substance to give it weight.

It has spectacle, drama, action, and adventure. It also has gods, demigods, superheroes, and evil armies that can overrun continents. What more could you want from a comic book?

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Daily Sexy Musing: Stormy Night Passion

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What goes into setting up a sexy mood? The answer varies from person to person. I don’t doubt for a second that a setting I might find sexy would be a huge turn-off for others. I happen to think candle-lit comic book stores are an intimate setting. I imagine I’m in the minority in feeling that way.

However, I believe that some sexy settings have a more universal appeal. One such setting involves stormy nights. I’m not just talking about rainy days or a light drizzle at sunset. I’m talking about the kind of storms that roll in late at night and bring plenty of thunder with it.

For some, it can be scary, especially if you have pets or kids. Then again, it’s not unusual for our brains to misinterpret fear for something sexy. I can easily imagine our hunter/gatherer ancestors huddling together on a stormy night, trying to stay warm. I don’t think it would take much for that sort of scenario to get sexy.

Howling winds, pouring rain, and flashy lightning is one of nature’s most basic spectacles. It’s only fitting that such a special could trigger some of our most basic instincts as well, including the sexy ones. With that in mind, I hope this Daily Sexy Musing gives you and your lover something to contemplate the next time you’re at home on a stormy night. Enjoy!

The rain pours harder.

The wind howls faster.

The lightning flashes brighter.

The thunder echoes louder.

In the darkest hours of the night, we find ourselves in the center of a storm. There is no peaceful quiet under the night sky. Nature is at its most volatile, reminding us we are under its whim and at its mercy. Within that chaos, we huddle together closer.

Only four walls and a roof protect us from such harsh elements. A few inches of material stand between us and nature’s wrath. We can do nothing to temper it. Our only hope is to wait it out. Under darkened skies, however, hope clashes with other feelings.

Out of fear, we huddle closer.

Seeking comfort, we embrace.

Feeling restless, we offer support.

From support, we evoke another reaction.

Nature won’t let us rest. If night affords us no serenity, then why should we offer ours? The world bellows with primal forces. Why not tap into our own? Together, behind these walls, and surrounded by danger, the heavens are daring us to start a storm of our own.

We answer the call.

We shed our clothes.

We slip under the covers.

We unleash a torrent of passion.

Harder and harder, faster and faster, we make our own commotion in the latest hours of the night. Like the winds and rain outside, we are neither gentle nor peaceful. We dare to be loud and reckless, not caring what peace we may shatter. Our love is a product of nature, but our lust is the storm that helped forge it. This time, we let the storm rage.

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