Imagine there’s this big, beautiful house on the top of a hill. It’s opulent, luxurious, and full of every comfort you can imagine. Inside, there are servants and guests that cater to every conceivable whim. There’s no suffering, whatsoever. The people who live there are as happy and content as can be.
In that same house, however, there’s a dungeon in the basement. Within that dungeon, people are being horribly and endlessly tortured. They’re repeatedly beaten, burned, and mutilated without mercy. The suffering is constant and the pain is unbearable. Every day, more and more people are forced into that dungeon and never let out. They constantly cry and scream for mercy, but it never comes.
Everyone in that house knows the dungeon is there. They’re constantly reminded of it. At times, they can even hear the tortured screams of those trapped inside. Some of the people there might even be friends and loved ones. However, they don’t do anything about it. They don’t show an ounce of sorrow or concern. They just continue enjoying the joys and comforts the rest of the house has to offer.
With this scenario in mind, how would you judge the people who weren’t in the dungeon? How would you judge anyone who is perfectly happy when others nearby are suffering horribly? It would be one thing if they didn’t know the torture was happening, but the people in that house have always known, even before they arrived. To still be happy in that house requires more than just an immense lack of empathy.
This is just one of many fundamental disconnects in traditional concepts of Heaven and Hell. While it’s not the first flaw I’ve pointed out, it’s one that I believe is incredibly relevant because it subverts core aspects of our humanity. Regardless of whether you believe humans evolved or were magically created, it’s a biological fact that humans are a very social species. Empathy is a key component of that dynamic.
Empathy doesn’t just allow us to coordinate, cooperate, and relate to one another. It’s at the core of our understanding of right and wrong. You could even argue that empathy is the core ingredient within the Golden Rule that so many religions preach in some form or another, including those that incorporate some form of Hell.
It’s also the foundation on which our innate sense of justice and fairness is built. Both foundations crack once Heaven and Hell enter the picture. However, when eternity enters the picture, which is common in various Judeo-Christian traditions, those foundations shatter.
It’s in that context where simply being callous to the suffering of others, even if you feel they deserve it, becomes unavoidably sadistic. As soon as eternity enters the equation, any sense of proportional justice becomes impossible. Even for the most monstrous individuals who spent every moment of their lives hurting others, a punishment without end eventually becomes unjust.
At that point, the pain and suffering someone endures is no longer about punishment or justice. It becomes part of a sadistic act that only becomes more sadistic the longer it goes on. If Hell is truly eternal, as many devout believers espouse, then its very existence is an act of infinite sadism.
That’s a major problem for any theology that includes an all-knowing, all-loving deity. By definition, a deity cannot be all-loving while exercising infinitely sadistic acts. If that same deity is all-powerful, then that only makes things worse because it means the deity has the power to both stop those acts and prevent them from ever happening. By not doing so, the deity becomes even more sadistic.
Now, there are plenty of traditions that include sadistic gods. The god of the Old Testament certainly qualifies in many respects. If a deity of that power opts to use it for sadistic acts, it doesn’t carry as much weight in terms of how humans approach morality and justice. Granted, it means the people who worship that deity must do so out of fear on some levels, but their approach in that context is understandable.
It’s less understandable when Hell and the concept eternal punishment becomes part of a larger theology because it means adherents must participate in sadistic activities, even if it just means ignoring the torture inflicted by someone else. Everyone in Heaven, no matter how wonderful it is, has to remain numb to the infinite suffering going on below them.
Considering how threats of Hell has been a common tool for proselytizing, the sadism gets compounded even more, both from a human and theological perspective. More than one adherent had used the threat of Hell to warn others about believing in something other than their preferred religion. They likely do so out of genuine compassion and concern for those who don’t believe.
However, once that same person goes to Heaven, they have to become a sadist on some levels. They must now exist in a domain where others they tried to save from eternal damnation are doomed to endless suffering. They know it’s happening at every waking moment. It doesn’t matter if time works differently in the afterlife. Eternity is still eternity.
Even if that same person convinced every person they met to embrace their theology, there’s still the countless others that they never reached. That doesn’t even begin to account for all the other hapless souls that have lived throughout history, practicing other religious traditions with every bit as much devotion and piety. Even if they committed no egregious crimes, they could be damned to Hell.
While many religious traditions offer some recourse for righteous individuals who follow a different faith or lived before those traditions began, the concept is still flawed because it requires some tolerance of injustice. When people are judged by actions or inactions for which they had no opportunity to react, tolerating the results means tolerating injustice.
It doesn’t even work if the deity involved only sends the worst of the worst people to Hell. No matter how bad somebody’s crimes were, they were finite in nature because humans are finite beings. The issues surrounding infinite punishment for finite sins is subject to its own set of theological and moral debates, but the implications are unavoidable.
Think of the most brutally sadistic person who lived 6,000 years ago, a time that even the most conservative Christians agree that humans walked the planet. Over the course of their life, they committed every possible crime and sin. They murdered, raped, tortured, and blasphemed with unrepentant glee. The scars of their crimes lasted years after their death.
However, after a certain amount of time, their deeds cease to have a real impact. The victims and the descendants of those victims move on. The world moves on. Eventually, the memory of the person’s crimes fade. The finite transgression become nothing more than a faded memory. At that point, what’s the purpose of continuing the punishment?
Moreover, what happens to that purpose if and when that monstrous individual seeks to repent? Given enough time and punishment, at least one damned soul would see the light and wish to atone in a way beyond suffering. In most civilized societies, we give those individuals that chance. Hell, if it is truly eternal, offers no such opportunity.
At that point, the punishment is no longer punishment. It’s just sadistic torture. It ceases being a measure of justice and becomes an act of injustice. Even if it takes a trillion years deliver a proportional punishment for a finite person’s egregious behavior, they’ll still be subject to trillions of more years of torment.
All the while, everyone in Heaven has to be okay with this. If part of being a righteous soul means compassion for victims and proportional punishment for transgressors, then nobody in Heaven can remain righteous. Even if the all-powerful deity demands it and they are powerless to change anything, they still have to temper the very empathy that made them righteous in the first place.
Heaven and Hell are difficult, distressing concepts. Whether you’re devoutly religious or a lifelong atheist, it’s never pleasant imaging an afterlife that involves horrendous punishment, even if it’s reserved for the worst of humanity. Not every religious tradition involves an afterlife or traditions of an eternal Hell, but the concept reveals more about our innate sense of humanity than it does any religious doctrine.
Human beings are at their best when they can empathize, appreciate, and understand one another. There will certainly be instances when people commit gross injustices. How we deal with them is critical in terms of how we structure our societies and survive in an ever-changing world. Anything that attempts subverts it or requires that we suspend our humanity will only make every gross injustice infinitely worse.
Once a week, comic book fans rejoice as pencil, ink, and imagination come together to bring us a batch of new comics. Whether they involve superheroes, gritty crime drama, sappy romance, or talking ducks in ties, great comics take many forms.
As someone who awaits every Wednesday like Christmas, I make it a point to select one comic from this crowded field that helps make the day feel uniquely festive. It doesn’t always involve superheros gods, demigods, and talking animals. This week, however, that’s exactly what “Wonder Woman #71” contains. That’s not an exaggeration. This comic contains all of that, along with a uniquely impactful story.
The Wonder Woman comics have always been more fanciful than most, even without its former allusions to BDSM. When Wonder Woman isn’t fighting alongside the Justice League or going toe-to-toe against cosmic threats like Darkseid, she often deals with the divine mischief caused by her divine heritage. Since the arrival of writer, G. Willow Wilson, there has been plenty of mischief to go around.
For the past few issues, Diana has been investigating some decadent happenings in a small town called Summergrove. At first, it doesn’t look quite as dire as some of the other godly influences that Wonder Woman has dealt with. The people of this typical community have just become a bunch of free-wielding hippies, randomly pursuing every decadent desire that enters their mind, among other things.
It’s not quite as pornographic as it sounds. Wilson manages to keep things PG-13, for the most part. However, the free loving and utter disregard for Western propriety are just part of the issue. This major disruption in a community not used to public nudity isn’t due to some sudden realization that Puritan traditions are asinine. It’s a direct result of Atlantiades, the god of lust and desire.
Aside from being the offspring of Aphrodite, as well as the kind of deity that aspiring erotica/romance writers could worship, Atalantiades presents a unique challenge to Wonder Woman. Yes, she’s causing real harm to innocent people and their families by exercising her divine power, but she’s not doing it directly, nor is she doing it out of malice.
She is, like many gods in both the world of DC Comics and beings of mythology, unaware of how her power influences frail mortal minds. She doesn’t see ordinary humans with the same care and concern as Wonder Woman. Whereas Diana respects and protects them, gods like Atalantiades pity and manipulate them.
It puts Wonder Woman in a tricky position of convincing Atalantiades that what she’s doing to the people of Summergrove is wrong. The past couple issues have steadily revealed how bad things have gotten. Families are being torn apart and the community is collapsing around itself as people just abandon their responsibilities and ignore all consequences to their action.
It may seem fun, but even the most free spirit of individuals can’t avoid consequences. That’s what it means to be human. However, Atalantiades and the rest of her divine brethren don’t understand that the way Wonder Woman does. Their divinity means they don’t have to deal with the same consequences. They only have to worry when those consequences impact other gods.
That’s another lesson that Atalantiades has to learn the hard way. While Wonder Woman helps her deal with the damage she did to Summergrove, her activities obscure another emerging conflict centered around her mother, Aphrodite. This conflict has higher stakes and greater consequences, mainly because it involves unleashing a mythical beast.
It’s this culmination of consequences that helps “Wonder Woman #71” stand out. There are plenty of stories that involve Wonder Woman fighting mythical beasts and protecting people from unholy manipulations. However, she ends up having to do both here and she can’t resolve both solely through fighting.
Wonder Woman can do a lot of incredible feats, but she doesn’t absolve people or gods of consequences, nor would she if she could. She can’t fight Atalantiades or the people she has influenced, but she can convince her to take responsibility. That’s not as easy as a simple scorn or lecture, but it does make for some revealing exchanges.
Wilson, like many other accomplished Wonder Woman writers, explore the unique and strange perspective of divine beings like Atalantiades. That’s understandable because they’re not mortal. They don’t see mortality, desire, and consequences the same way an ordinary person in the suburb sees it. In many respects, it reveals just how unique Wonder Woman is because she goes out of her way to relate to ordinary people.
Atalantiades makes clear that she doesn’t see love and desire the same way as Diana. Throughout this story arc, even other gods like Aphrodite go out of their way to denigrate Diana’s perspective on matters of love and mortals. She sees it as something empowering and intimate. They see it as something chaotic and corrupt.
“Wonder Woman #71” doesn’t entirely resolve that argument, but it does make a compelling case for each side. Atalantiades demonstrates what happens when love and desire run rampant. It’s sexy and even humorous, at times, but it’s also flawed and Wonder Woman helps belabor that.
As more consequences of Atalantiades’ actions play out, Wonder Woman has a chance to make her point in other, more direct ways. This is also where the artwork of Tom Derenick and Xermanico get more vibrant as divine debates turn into divine clashes. It helps highlight how strong Wonder Woman can be with both her words and her fists.
“Wonder Woman #71” is not the endgame of this larger story surrounding Atalantiades and Aphrodite, but it is definitely the most dramatic. Wilson explores some pretty heavy topics in this story, touching on gods, love, and the frail mortal beings that get caught in the crossfire. It puts Wonder Woman in some difficult situations in which her compassion has to be as strong as muscles.
As always, she rises to the occasion and inspires more awe and wonder in the process. That’s what makes her Wonder Woman.
Technically speaking, human beings are animals. I know there are certain individuals, especially creationists, who abhor such an association. For some, the idea of being closely associated with mere animals, let alone classified as one, just doesn’t sit well. While I’ve little respect for creationists, I can respect that sentiment to some extent.
That said, I don’t think being labeled an animal is necessarily a bad thing. In many ways, it provides an important perspective on ourselves and our place in the world. As humans, we’re capable of some pretty amazing feats. We have literally reshaped the face of this planet. At the same time, we’re still animals cut from the same mold as monkeys, dogs, cats, birds, lizards, and dinosaurs.
This extends to our love lives. I would even argue our animal nature is part of what makes our love lives so complex and kinky. Every animal goes about sex, society, and bonding in their own unique way. Humans just happened to be especially unique, but we still retain many elements of our animal nature.
At times, the greatest intimacy we experience comes when we channel our animal nature. There’s a reason why so many songs, euphemisms, and sexual positions have primal connotations. Whether we’re doing it doggie style or going at it like rabbits, we definitely have an animal side. When properly applied, it makes for amazing lovemaking. This Daily Sexy Musings should help make that case to the animal in us all.
This morning, everything was so calm. We were just two lovers, living our lives and navigating our world. Nothing was out of place. Our minds, bodies, and faculties were within our control. It was all so peaceful and serene.
Then, night came.
Then, our bodies awoke.
Then, our minds devolved.
Then, harmony gave way to chaos.
In an instant, the higher function of our human brains gives way to the base desires of our primal nature. We act on a whim and those whims are so crude. Gone are concerns about work, money, society, and propriety. In this moment, we are barely human. For the rest of the night, we are animals acting on pure, unfettered desire.
We’re dogs in heat.
We’re salmon swimming upstream.
We’re birds sounding the mating call.
On instinct, we respond to these feelings. There’s no thought or care to the details. All that matters is feeding this basic desire, following freely the primal path before us. Deeper love gives way to shallow lust. We seek no greater purpose or goal. Only a thirst for pleasure guides us.
Like hungry predators, we pounce on one another. We’re not gentle or careful. Clothes are ripped off rather than removed. There’s no caressing or teasing. Instead, we grope and grasp, indulging in the flesh that feeds the beast within us. Together, we unlock the chains and let the creature roam.
Moans become grunts.
Gasps become growls.
Words become glares.
What began as a deep human connection is now a shallow primal act. There’s no greater meaning behind our actions, nor does there need to be. Every hour of every day, we channel our humanity, just to get along with our fellow humans. When the sun sets and the doors close, we dare to unleash the animal within and savor the fruits of our beastly desires.
Imagine, for a moment, that an armed government officer shows up at your door and points a gun at your head. The officer informs you that for the next nine months, you will be injected with a generally non-fatal strain of flu that’ll make you feel tired, sore, and occasionally nauseous. Then, after that nine-month period is up, you’ll be given an infant child that you are henceforth responsible for.
Failure to comply with any part of that request will result in you or anyone who assists you going to prison for an extended period. You can protest it all you want. There’s no getting out of it. The government agent keeps the gun pointed at your head the entire time and if you want to avoid breaking the law, you just have to endure.
What I just described isn’t a perfect parallel to the strict abortion law recently passed by Alabama, but it helps illustrate what women are facing in light of such laws. While other parts of the world are liberalizing their abortion laws, certain parts of the United States are going in the other direction. However, the Alabama law represents a new extreme.
Now, even though I’ve discussed abortion before, I want to reiterate that I don’t like talking about this issue. It’s not because I’m a man or because I’m inherently skeptical of movements tied to organized religion. This issue affects everyone, regardless of gender. The principle alone of forcing someone to endure nine months of bodily rigor makes it relevant.
It’s for that reason that I tend to favor the pro-choice side of the debate. There are too many real-world examples of the dire consequences of a society where abortion is outright banned. I singled a former communist country one whose policy is quite similar to that of Alabama’s. However, my feelings on this issue go beyond just the consequences of these restrictive laws.
Even if I agreed with the idea that life beings at conception, I would still be in favor of keeping abortion legal in most cases. I just can’t support an effort that involves the government holding a gun to the head of women and their doctors, prohibiting them from making choices about their health and their bodies.
Now, I already know how the pro-life crowd will respond to that sentiment. They’ll point out that if life truly does begin at conception, then abortion is murder, by default. I’ll even concede that their reasoning isn’t entirely flawed. A fertilized embryo has many of the defining traits of biological life. It even has many traits we associate with personhood.
This idea that a fertilized embryo is a person makes up the bedrock of pro-life arguments. It’ll likely be the argument that’ll likely be used, should abortion access become an issue for the Supreme Court, which many pro-life groups are banking on. Considering how religious and logistical arguments rarely count much in a courtroom, this is their best bet.
There are a many flaws in the pro-life arguments, some of which I’ve touched on before, but this is the one I want to focus on because it’ll likely be cited more frequently as the debate intensifies. I believe that if abortion is ever banned in the United States, it’s because the law will recognize a fertilized embryo as a person.
However, with that distinction comes many implications, some of which lead to unavoidable inconsistencies. As the late George Carlin once so brilliantly illustrated, inconsistencies tend to reveal absurdities. To highlight just a few, here are just some of the questions that we’ll have to answer if we determine a fertilized embryo is a person.
If a fertilized embryo is a person, then at what point do identical twins become two individual persons?
This question has implications of its own. Part of the principle behind saying life begins at conception is the idea that when the sperm and egg meet, it combines to create a unique strand of human DNA, which constitutes human life. That sounds good on paper, but when identical twins enter the picture, it breaks down.
Identical twins, by definition, have the same DNA. At some point during gestation, they split into two individuals. At what point does that occur? By what basis are they distinct? If the answer to that is arbitrary, then how is saying life begins at conception any less arbitrary? Once personhood status is granted to a fetus, this will be something the law and doctors will have to answer.
If a fertilized embryo is a person, then does one that fails to implant on a woman’s uterus count as an accidental death under the law?
This happens to every sexually active woman, regardless of whether they’re in a monogamous marriage or working in a brothel. Even if an egg gets fertilized, it doesn’t always implant. The reasons for this are many, but if a fertilized egg is a person, then that still constitutes a death. As such, it would have to be treated as such under the law.
Most women don’t even know that a fertilized embryo has failed to implant. Most just end up getting flushed down a toilet, as part of their menstrual cycle. Under this legal definition of personhood, though, there’s no difference between that and flushing a live infant down a toilet. Given how Susan Smith was convicted of murder when she drowned her children, will other women face a similar sentence?
If a fertilized embryo is a person, then how does the state go about monitoring sexually active women to determine how many deaths occur because implantation did not occur?
This ties directly to the previous question. As soon as the law determines that an embryo is a person, it suddenly has a daunting challenge. It must now monitor and document every sexually active woman very closely to see how many fertilized embryos pass through her system, if only to determine how many deaths occurred inside her.
Even with advances in medical technology, it requires a level of invasiveness that even the most totalitarian state in the world can’t administer. There are over 150 million women in the United States. Is the government really equipped to monitor the activity inside every one of their wombs without breaking some very significant laws?
If a fertilized embryo is a person, then wouldn’t any woman who had a miscarriage be subject to manslaughter laws if her actions indirectly caused it?
This has already come up in a few states with restrictive abortion laws. Women who have suffered miscarriages are already being investigated as criminals. Ignoring, for a moment, the difficulty of determining whether a woman intentionally caused her miscarriage, look at it from a personal perspective.
A woman just suffers a miscarriage. She is likely distraught, distressed, and physically weakened. Now, government agents are going to treat her like a criminal and possibly prosecute her for a crime. While manslaughter is not on the same level as murder, it’s still treated as a crime and people do go to jail for it.
That means, for embryos to be considered persons, it must also be necessary to put women who suffered a miscarriage in prison. I don’t think even the most ardent pro-life adherent can comfortably stomach that.
If a fertilized embryo is a person, then would that person be legally culpable if a woman suffers complications during the pregnancy and dies?
This is somewhat a reversal of the previous question. There are occasions where pregnancy actually leads to a woman’s death. According to the Centers for Disease Control, approximately 700 women die every year in the United States due to complications during pregnancy. In the cases where the infant survives, are they somehow culpable?
If an embryo is a person, then their actions can’t be entirely distinct from that of any child. There are cases in which children get convicted of murder and are punished for it. Even if an infant cannot have intent or malice, their presence inside the woman is still the cause of the complication. That means manslaughter or wrongful death could be applicable.
I know there’s plenty of inherent absurdity in the notion of prosecuting an infant for the wrongful death of his or her mother, but if they’re going to be defined as a person, then that includes the same rights and responsibilities. To do otherwise would just be inconsistent and require the same arbitrary distinctions of which pro-life individuals are so critical.
If a fertilized embryo is a person, then would that person be culpable in the event that an identical or fraternal twin dies in utero, as can be the case in Vanishing Twin Syndrome?
A lot of things can happen inside the womb during gestation. Twins are just one of them, but there are instances where the presence of another fetus causes one to die or become unviable. Regardless of whether it involves an identical twin or a fraternal twin, the legal implications are the same. One person has died while the other has not. Like any other person, it would have to be investigated.
It could be the case that one infant hogged nutrient, causing the other to starve to death. There are also cases in which one twin will absorb the other. Technically, that would make the other baby both a cannibal and a killer. It would have to be investigated and prosecuted as such.
I concede that some of the scenarios I’ve described are absurd. That’s my underlying point. If the pro-life movement gets its way and fertilized embryos are treated as legal persons, then that has consequences that are logistically, legally, and morally untenable.
The bigger picture surrounding these questions tends to get lost among those who simply call abortion murder. However, if those same people got their way, then they would be unable to avoid these questions and their consequences.
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.
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.
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.