No words. For once, I have no words.
“Veteran Vixens” A Sexy Short Story For Veteran’s Day
The following is a sexy short story I wrote in honor of Veteran’s Day. I have veterans in my family and I’ve come to know plenty throughout my life. They are special souls and this story is dedicated to them. Enjoy!
“Veterans Day,” said former army grunt Matthew Antos, “a day I guess I’m supposed to look forward to. I guess that also means I should be happy for all the parades, salutes, and PSAs. And yet…”
He let his words trail off as he gazed out the window of his Washington DC hotel, watching as parade streets were cordoned off in anticipation of the big parade that afternoon. In a few hours, he was scheduled to don his army uniform and march with his old unit down the street, waving to cheering crowds praising them for their service. That was the public spectacle of Veterans Day. In private, however, things weren’t always so honorable.
Matthew had debated whether he should even show up. He’d been discharged from the army three months ago after serving for three years. He’d spent time overseas, making his way through a number of war zones and living the rigid life of a military man. That meant playing by the rules, serving his country, and being a hardened soldier. He did all of that in hopes of achieving more, but he didn’t expect to lose so much along the way.
“What’s wrong with me?” Matthew asked himself. “I put in the time. I did my part. I came back in one piece, despite getting yelled at, shot at, and beaten up a few times. Why do I still feel so…numb to it all?”
He’d been asking himself that question since he got home. It had kept him up at night, so much so that he suffered frequent insomnia. It was almost easier when he’d been recovering from a shrapnel wound he endured a couple years ago. At least with that, he knew the cause of the discomfort. He knew how to tough it out. That was what soldiers did.
After coming home, nothing was that simple and it bugged the hell out of him. Ironically, he’d left his home initially because it was too simple. His parents didn’t have the money to send him to college, his grades hadn’t been that great, and he wasn’t able to get a scholarship. His uncle, a former marine, sold him on joining the military. Given all the benefits that came with dutiful service, it seemed like the best decision he could’ve made.
What his uncle didn’t tell him, however, was how hard it was to get back to civilian life once the guns stopped firing and the drill instructors stopped yelling. He also didn’t mention the price soldiers paid when serving. By being away, doing their duty, they couldn’t be there for friends, family, and loved ones. It was a tough price, but Matthew learned the hard way how hard it could be.
“Dale…Jenny…Reggie…Sybil,” he said.
Those were just some of the names of old friends who had died since he joined. They had been among those who waved goodbye and smiled when he left. Now, they were gone and he wasn’t even there for their funeral.
“Darren…Joey…Mac…Alvin,” Matt continued.
Those names were even harder to say. They were some of the fellow soldiers he’d met during his time in the service. He’d grown close to them. However, they weren’t going to be joining him on the parade. That was because they paid the ultimate price for their service. Some had wives, kids, and families. He didn’t and that just wasn’t fair on any level.
Recalling those names and the faces behind them were painful enough. However, in particular stung the most.
“Mom,” he said, his voice finally cracking.
Swallowing a hard lump of sorrow, Matthew turned away from the window and sat down at the foot of his bed. Swearing only a pair of dirty jeans, he buried his face in his hands as he tried to shut out the pain that hurt more than any shrapnel wound.
It was an unflattering act for a battle-hardened soldier, fighting off tears. Being a soldier meant holding them back, no matter how much it pained him. He’d been lying in a hospital bed, getting an IV drip when his commanding officer dropped by to give him the news. His mother had passed away after getting injured in a traffic accident.
There was nothing he could’ve done. There was no way to change it. Had he been there, he probably would’ve been in the car with her and died by her side. Instead, he’d been serving overseas, protecting his country while the life he’d built within it just fell apart without him. Everything just became so detached.
On one hand, he was held up as a good soldier so served his country honorable. On the other, he was a stranger in his own home town again. The people he loved were gone. The life he left behind was no more. He had no other skills beyond what the army had taught him. He’d never felt so alone before.
Even so, Matthew was expected to put on a strong face that afternoon and lead the parade. Even the trained soldier in him wasn’t sure he could pull it off.
“I’m supposed to be stronger than this,” Matt told himself. “Hell, this whole day is for vets like me! The whole country wants to thank me, but I still feel so goddamn alone.”
The former army grunt looked at his uniform, which he’d neatly folded on a chair. At some point, he was going to have to put it on. He was going to have to pretend that he felt so welcome and honored by the country he loved. He just wished he didn’t have to pretend.
As Matthew lamented over the conflict raging within, he heard a knock at his hotel door. The soldier in him reacted quickly. He didn’t remember calling one of his old squad mates or ordering room service. Curious, he got up and answered.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
“A proud volunteer for Veteran Vixens!” a female voice said from the other side.
“Veteran Vixens? What the hell is that?”
Curious, and a little annoyed, Matthew opened the door to see an unexpected sight. Standing right there in front of him was a beautiful young woman wearing camouflage pants, a tight-fitting green T-shirt, and black boots. At first, he thought she was one of the female soldiers set to attend the parade, but quickly ruled that out because she wore way too much makeup and did not stand like a trained soldier.
However, she definitely carried herself like someone on a mission.
“Hello former Private Matthew Antos,” the woman greeted. “My name is Angela Maxwell. I’m the proud daughter of a marine and a major supporter of Veteran Vixens.”
“Nice to meet you,” Matthew said, “but I’m still waiting to hear what that is and why you’re at my hotel room.”
“I’m here alongside other proud volunteers. You see, we at Veteran Vixens believe in honoring our nation’s veterans, especially in Veteran’s Day. However, we don’t believe that just throwing them a parade is sufficient. We feel our brave men in uniform deserve a more direct form of appreciation.”
The young woman’s voice took on a distinctly seductive tone. She then took a step closer, cast him a playful smile, and lightly pawed his exposed upper body. It caught Matt by surprise, but he didn’t object. If anything, her warm touch gave him some much-needed soothing. He might not have been a good student in high school, but he could already see where she was going.
“Well, soldier…mind if I come in?” Angela asked.
“Um…sure,” Matt said on instinct, his mind already racing.
He led her into his room. She then closed the door behind her, but not before putting the “do not disturb” tag on the knob. It left even less ambiguity behind her intentions, but that only raised more questions.
“Please tell me you’re not some elaborate prank from my squad,” Matt said. “I don’t think I can handle that crap on a day like this.”
“Relax,” Angela assured him, “they didn’t send me. However, one of your old officers told our organization that you were a veteran in need.”
“It can’t have been Sergeant Mixon. He’s the only officer who knows me well enough, but there’s no way the same hard-ass who made me do 100 push-ups at a time sent a beautiful woman to my hotel room on Veteran’s Day.”
“It was him,” she said curtly, “and when he told me what you’d been through the past few years, I jumped at the chance to thank you.”
“I’m still having a hard time believing that…or that this Veteran Vixens is even a thing.”
“I assure you it’s very real. It’s also exactly what you think it is…and then some.”
Her voice got even more seductive. Then, before they even left the foyer, she affectionately pulled him into a light embrace. It left Matt stunned and frozen in place, but in a good way. It had been a while since he’d experienced that kind of intimate touch. Having been living in barracks full of men for years, it was a nice change of pace, among other things.
As she embraced him, he saw a sexy, yet genuine intent in her eyes. It was like she could see the wounds and scars that were so unique to veterans. It helped convince him that she wasn’t just some pretty girl his squad mates had paid to mess with him. She was serious about helping a veteran in need and not just with a simple salute.
“We at Veteran Vixens have a simple philosophy,” Angela said while trailing her hand over the sinews of his chest. “An honorable soldier deserves more than basic platitudes on a day like this.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Matt pointed out.
“Except, we seek to provide something more intimate to show gratitude,” she went on. “Many of us are the daughters, sisters, cousins, and friends of such soldiers. As such, we have more incentive than most to offer that kind of gratitude.”
“And just what kind are we talking about here?” he asked, as though it weren’t obvious enough.
Angela grinned playfully. Then, just as her soft fingers had finished tracing over his chest, she broke the embrace and stepped back towards the bed. Once in the center of the room, the beautiful young woman stripped out of her clothes. She wasn’t casual about it, either. She took them off as though she were a stripper giving him a private show.
Matt, still frozen, remained in the foyer as he gazed in awe at the spectacle before him. That generic military garb she’d been wearing hid a very feminine, very sexy body. She hadn’t even been wearing a bra when she took off her shirt, her well-developed breasts tumbling out with ease. He couldn’t even tell if she’d been wearing panties, either. As soon as she slipped out of her camouflage pants, she stood completely naked.
He must have looked very undisciplined, especially for a soldier, gawking at a beautiful naked woman. Angela didn’t seem to mind, though. She even seemed to pose a little, making it so he had a perfect view of her breasts, legs, and hips. She made no effort to hide her beauty as she casually sat down on the bed and lightly spread her legs, revealing her unobstructed womanhood.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” Matt said in a daze, “and I’m not just saying that as a man who lived in an all-male barracks for over three years.”
“I’m sure you’re not,” Angela said with a snicker. “I’m also sure you and your fellow vets didn’t get many changes for friendly female company while serving.”
“That’s both accurate and necessary, to some extent.”
“Well, you’re not in a war zone anymore. You’re not on duty or in basic training. You’re a veteran on Veteran’s Day…one who happens to be alone and struggling.”
“Something else I’m sure Sergeant Mixon told you,” Matt said. “How much else did he tell you?”
“Enough to know you’ve had it rough since coming home. There’s only so much anyone can do to make it easier for a veteran, but pretty girls like me…girls who happen to have a thing for strapping young vets in need of comfort…we can do more than most.”
She then scooted back on the bed, leaning on one arm and while gesturing towards him with the other. It was not an act of temptation at that point. It was an invitation.
“Come,” Angela offered, “as a participant in Veteran Vixens, I offer myself too you completely. Consider me some well-earned, much-needed, all-American pussy on behalf of those who appreciate your service!”
“That sounds so crazy, but makes so much fucking sense,” Matt said.
“Then, what are you waiting for, soldier boy? Get those pants off so we can start appreciating!”
Soldiers trying to re-enter civilian life often faced an existential crisis whenever their time with the military ended. It often left them in a conflicted state and there weren’t many forces in the world that could jar them from it. A beautiful naked woman, offering unfretted sex, was one of the few.
At that moment, Matthew Antos remembered that he wasn’t just a former soldier trying to make sense of his post-military life. He was also a healthy young heterosexual man who had not been laid since his ex-girlfriend broke up with him during a video chat two years ago. His mind and spirit might be damaged, but his dick still worked.
“Fuck, that’s the best order I’ve gotten in years!” he said, finally cracking a smile for the first time in weeks.
With energy that would’ve crushed any basic training course, Matthew shed his pants and underwear. He didn’t bother hiding the scars from the shrapnel wound on his abdomen. He didn’t care that he hadn’t shaved in over a week, either. As far as he was concerned, the universe just threw him a life preserver. He had been close to just losing it and here was a beautiful woman who wanted to help him. Who was he to refuse?
“Looks like someone aced his training regime,” Angela commented, her eyes narrowing on his athletic frame.
“Being fit is just part of being capable,” Matt said as he eagerly climbed onto the bed with her.
“Is that something you guys say in the army?”
“No. It’s just basic logistics.”
As if to demonstrate those capabilities, Matthew got on top of the woman and wrapped her in his powerful arms. He then smothered her face, neck, and cleavage with his lips, tasting her womanly flesh as though it were his favorite desert. He wasn’t gentle or careful. He was a soldier. Neither a battlefield nor a beautiful woman intimidated him. He wasn’t just willing to embrace her. He was willing to take her fully, as only a veteran could.
“Oohhh! What a good soldier!” Angela cooed.
“That turn you on?” he said in an assertive, soldier-like tone. “Does a horny, restless vet make you wet?”
“Hell yeah!”
She could’ve just been saying that, but body language didn’t lie. The way she dug her nails into his shoulder and grinded her hips against his revealed the truth. She really was getting horny. Matt could already feel the heat radiating from her inner thighs.
Seeking to build his own arousal, the eager veteran continued making out with her. He kissed and caressed her naked body while she pawed his manly sinews. As their bodies became more acquainted, years of pent up sexual energy quickly caught up with him. His dick got fully erect faster than he thought possible. Either he was really that horny or he’d been that deprived of intimate contact.
Whatever the reason, he didn’t intend to linger. As much as he loved making out with a naked woman, he had a more pressing mission at hand. After thoroughly tasting her lips one last time, he rose up, grabbed hold her thighs, and hitched her legs over her shoulder.
“This is just the soldier in me,” he said, “but permission to enter.”
“Permission granted!” Angela said.
It was official. Veterans really did turn her on. Not one to deny a beautiful woman the soldier dick she loved, Matt aligned his member with her wet entrance and thrust into her. As soon as he felt that hot, tight flesh around his manhood, it was ecstasy in its rawest form.
“Ohhh yeah!” the hardened soldier moaned, “that feels…so good.”
“That’s it, soldier. Enjoy that hot pussy!” Angela purred.
Treating that as an order from his old drill sergeant, Matt proceed to vent years of pent up desire and frustration. He tightened his hold on her thighs, dug his feet and knees into the bed, and moved his hips in a steady procession of rhythmic thrusting. Through every motion, his rigid cock slithered in her tight folds. Hard masculine muscles meshed with smooth womanly curves. As their naked bodies rocked, more intimate ecstasy followed.
It was like diving into a pool after running a marathon through a desert.
It was like reconnecting with a feeling that had been blocked off by impenetrable barriers.
Suddenly, he didn’t feel so detached from the world. He was connecting with it again, literally and figuratively. His gaze never diverted from the woman under him, watching as she moaned and beamed with delight as he humped her. She already had the look of a soldier who’d just fulfilled a mission. For her, giving a distressed veteran sex was uniquely fulfilling. Something about that just felt right.
“Oh yes! Oohhh yes!” Angela moaned. “Like that! Fuck me like that!”
“You mean…like…this?” he grunted, thrusting extra hard while pushing her legs further apart.
“Yes! Fuck me like a true veteran! Make me come!”
She already sounded close to orgasm. Matthew stepped up the sexual rhythm, rocking her body and the bed even harder. She ended up being closer than he’d thought. She climaxed on the spot, curling her toes and throwing her head back as her inner muscles throbbed in accord with her release.
It was a beautiful sight, an all-American girl having an orgasm at the hands of him, an American veteran. Everything he fought and sacrificed for took a tangible form. It was also pretty audible as well. Angela was quite vocal in an orgasmic state.
“OHHH YES!”
Matthew grinned at the spectacle before him, slowing his motions for a moment to take it all in. However, he didn’t linger for long. He remembered he wanted a release as well. While Angela bathed in her euphoric state, he dug his feet and knees into the bed even harder as he pushed towards his own release.
“Angela…I’m close too!” he grunted. “I’m going to…come!”
“Go on, soldier,” she purred. “Fill me with that veteran cum.”
Not needing an order for once, Matt delivered the last round of humps to send him over the edge. When the feeling hit, it wasn’t just an overdue sexual release. It was like an old burden crumbling to dust around him, replaced with unhindered ecstasy and bliss.
Battle hardened muscles tensed.
Skin that had been dirtied by battle burned hot with desire.
Body parts that had not been used much lately went into overdrive.
Under the refreshing wave of his release, the hardened soldier let out a moan of contentment as he achieved orgasm. Throbbing flesh met with throbbing flesh as his manly juices mixed with hers. Pleasure, relief, and intimate connection became real and tangible. That lonely, distant feeling that plagued him early suddenly didn’t seem so pressing.
“You’re a damn good soldier,” said Angela, still beaming with post-orgasmic delight, “a damn good soldier, indeed.”
As Matthrew soaked in the feeling, she caressed his unshaven face and kissed him. Like a reflex, he kissed back. In the process, he withdrew his manhood from her and laid down next to her. He kept her naked body in his arms, the intimate contact still providing relief beyond that of a sexual release. She clung to him as well, pawing his chest as if to wipe away his distress.
As he laid with such a beautiful woman, Matt found himself recall the names of the people he’d lost and the world he’d lost since joining. The pain was still there, but there was now something else to counter it. Instead of agonizing over the past he’d missed, he looked towards a more promising future.
“I needed this…so bad,” Matt said, still breathless.
“I can tell.”
“I don’t think you understand the full story, Angela,” he said in a more serious tone. “Before you showed up, I was on the brink. I…wasn’t sure of my place in this world anymore. I’m a soldier. I served my country. I came home. And now…”
His words trailed off, still unable to fully process everything he’d agonized over since he returned home. Angela curled up closer to him, cupping his face with both hands and gazing into his eyes with the compassion of an angel.
“You feel lost,” she told him. “You’re a soldier. You worked, trained, and fought so hard that it’s part of who you are. Not being a soldier at this point…and everything else that comes with it…that’s a lot to deal with.”
“Sounds like you’re intimately familiar with men like me,” he pointed out.
“If you’re wondering whether I’ve had sex with other vets, then stop wondering. Every girl at Veteran Vixens has plenty of experience with veteran-brand pillow talk.”
“Sorry if mine sounds routine,” he said, “especially since I’m one of the lucky ones. I came back. Some of my squad mates didn’t.”
“That’s a big part of what makes being a veteran so overwhelming. You survived. You fought your battles and made it through. A part of you is still fighting, though. Sometimes, you need something to let you know it’s okay to stop…that it’s okay to reconnect.”
It made so much sense. Then again, a lot of crazy things made sense after having sex with a beautiful woman. Could it really that simple? Could the key to confronting the emptiness and uncertainty that had plagued him since he returned home be a simple matter of reconnecting? In that sense, random sex with a beautiful woman counted as a productive first step.
“Reconnect…yeah, I think I can do that,” Matt said with greater confidence. “Thanks for the memorable reminder, Angela.”
“That’s what we at Veteran Vixens do,” she said proudly. “It’s hard enough adapting to civilian life again. Nothing seems nearly as hard after getting laid.”
“Which is why it’s my new favorite veterans charity!”
“Good to hear,” she laughed.
Angela kissed him again, still keeping her naked body close to his. Matt eagerly returned the kiss. Embracing her felt like embracing the world again. It gave him renewed confidence and strength, which he planned to use for the parade later that afternoon.
He still had some time to prepare. Luckily for him, the kiss between him and Angela quickly turned into another make-out session. At some point, she rolled over on top of him while he rolled onto his back. The next thing Matt knew, he was looking up at a naked woman straddling his waist with a lustful, yet affectionate glint in her eyes.
“In keeping with the spirit of Veteran Vixens, I can stick around a bit longer if you want,” she said curtly.
“I’d like that,” Matt said while smiling back.
“I can also suck your dick, get you hard again, and then ride it hard until we come again.”
“I’d like that even more.”
“Great!” she said, already sounding excited. “Because when it comes to honoring our troops on Veterans Day, we at Veteran Vixens like to go the extra mile!”
Filed under Sexy Short Story
Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Manly Chest Hair Edition
What is it about manly chest hair that’s so sexy? Actually, a better question might be why the sex appeal of chest hair is so mixed? Men have more body hair. That’s just basic human biology. It has a pragmatic, albeit limited function. We don’t have enough of it to keep us as warm as a polar bear, but it still has a unique aesthetic.
Like breasts on women, chest hair is one of those distinguishing male features that denotes raw masculinity. Most men don’t emphasize it as much as women do with their breasts. Then again, very few features can ever hope to match the sex appeal of female breasts. That doesn’t mean chest hair can’t have a place in the sexual landscape.
I’ve had chest hair since I was 16. I come from a long line of men in my family who have hairy chests. Some family members even take pride in it. The women they’re with don’t hide their appreciation of it. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate the manliness my chest hair conveys and I think it’s worth appreciating even more.
For this week’s edition of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts, I’d like to celebrate this underrated sexual trait. It does more than just distinguish men from women or offer some extra warmth in the winter. It adds a unique kind of sexiness to a world rich in sex appeal. Not everyone finds it sexy, but for those that do will always be a little warmer on cold nights.
“A bad date that ends in sex will always be more memorable than a good date that ends in a kiss.”
“Lovemaking can easily turn into fucking, but it’s much harder to do the other way around.”
“When you think about it, mirrors tell us just how much we want to fuck ourselves.”
“The appeal of anal sex changes considerably after a woman has given birth.”
“Love is just a more refined and focused version of being horny.”
“Historically speaking, humping is the second oldest form of exercise after running.”
“Puberty is just your body’s way of letting you know it’ll be fucking with you for the rest of your life.”
For those who find inherent sex appeal in chest hair, the colder weather in the coming months should help vindicate you. Hairy chest hair is one of those traits that tends to have a very targeted sex appeal. Some genuinely don’t care for it. Some find it sexier than Ron Swanson covered in bacon grease. As winter draws near, I believe those men who value their chest hair will once again make their case.
Filed under Sexy Sunday Thoughts
Aging In A Society Where Nobody Ages
We’ve all known someone who perfectly fits the profile of a grumpy old coot. Whether they’re a family member or a stranger, we can readily identify the associated traits. They’re bitter, angry, cynical, and exceedingly nostalgic for an era that has long since passed. Having to live in a frail, failing body certainly doesn’t help.
As annoying as their attitudes can be, it does raise a relevant question. Are they grumpy because they genuinely feel that everything in their world is awful or are they grumpy because their youth has become a distant memory? It’s a question that doesn’t apply to every old person, but it’s relevant to more than few.
Being old is not a pleasant experience for a lot of people. There are a lot of undesirable symptoms associated with it. Your skin gets wrinkled, your organs start to fail, your mind starts to slip, and you just don’t have the energy you used to have. On top of that, your sex life really suffers, regardless of your gender.
In that context, it’s not hard to understand why people get grumpier as they get older. They have plenty of reasons and plenty more excuses. It has always been a part of society. Like rebellious teenagers, their existence is an accepted part of life, so much so that it’s hard to imagine society without it.
This is where I take the same twisted mind that helps me write sexy stories and use it to propose a thought experiment. It’s also where I explore exciting new technology that will change the way society functions. It’s true that aging is part of our world. However, small pox, polio, and ridiculously flawed assumptions about the female body were once part of our world as well. That didn’t stop us from changing it.
In recalling the grumpy old coots I’ve known in my life, I often wonder whether they would act and feel the same way if they suddenly woke up in the body of their 25-year-old self. How much or how little would that change their attitudes? Would they be as jaded about the world if they were suddenly able to think, move, and hump like their younger selves?
Some might still be grumpy.
I even wonder this when recalling the elder individuals I know who aren’t grumpy and cantankerous. Those people do exist. Some of the happiest people I know are old, gray, and have a long list of health issues. They’ve lived good lives, have few regrets, and are content with their current state. Would that change for better or for worse if they were young again?
These are questions that will become increasingly relevant in the coming decades. While it’s currently impossible to just wake up in a new body like in “Altered Carbon,” the anti-aging industry is a burgeoning multi-billion dollar market. With demographics in the western world shifting rapidly, this market is poised to grow even more.
As it stands, there’s no comprehensive treatment that reverses aging for everyone. There are things people can do to improve longevity, but more often than not, someone’s ability to live comfortably into old age depends on factors they cannot control. The fact that Keith Richards lived beyond 1989 is proof enough of that.
That’s not to say we all just have to hope we have the same genetic fortitude as someone like Keith Richards. The current research into anti-aging is making significant strides. We understand aging a lot more than we did 20 years ago. In essence, it’s largely a matter of cells not being able to repair themselves as well as they used to. If we can fix that, then we fix aging.
It sounds simple, but it’s not. However, unlike some of the other advanced technologies I’ve discussed, there’s no need to prove the concept in the real world. We know it’s possible for organisms to live significantly longer than humans. Lobsters, turtles, and even whales have been documented to live centuries and function on the same level as their younger counterparts.
How they do this and whether it can be applied to humans is still uncertain, but there’s a great deal of research into this field. There’s also a huge incentive to perfect anti-aging treatments on a large scale. The first company that does that will likely be a trillion-dollar company. Whether or not it happens in my lifetime is difficult to surmise, but given the pace of technology, I believe it will happen eventually.
When it does, that raises a whole host of questions that are difficult to answer. What does a society where people don’t age even look like? How does it even function? I doubt our current system could support it. Countries like Japan are already dealing with significant problems associated with their rapidly-aging population. That issue will likely get more complicated as anti-aging technology improves.
What will it mean to retire in a world where people live for centuries rather than decades?
What will it mean to have a career?
What will it mean to have a family?
What will it mean for rearing and caring for children?
Think of how multiple generations function together at the moment. For a while, my family had four generations living at once. I had my parents, my grandparents, and my great-grandparents alive at one point. That made for a robust, but sometimes convoluted family structure. Just keeping up with family affairs could be tricky since my family moves around a lot.
Now, imagine having even more generations alive at once. Imagine dealing with parents, grandparents, and great-great-great-great-grandparents. As individuals and as a society, we’ve never dealt with that kind of dynamic. What would the roles be for that many living descendants? What would that do to custody, inheritance, and just basic overall functioning?
It’s difficult to imagine, but it gets even more complicated than that. Another major aspect of anti-aging research doesn’t just involve extending the human lifespan. It also involves reversing aging and preserving youth. Animals like turtles already do it. They get to a certain age and basically stay that way. Ideally, we want to provide something similar in humans.
That means our parents, grandparents, and great-great-great grandparents wouldn’t just live longer. They wouldn’t look a day over 30. On top of that, they would still be perfectly capable of having more children. People could have siblings who are decades younger than them. They could also end up with uncles and aunts of all ages.
Imagine some of these people being older than your grandmother.
Then, there are the nearly limitless number of half-siblings they could have. Even in our current state of aging, a good chunk of the population lives within a step-family where they’re only related to one parent biologically. In a world where people never age out of their sexual prime, it’s more than likely this will increase.
It may get to a point where age really is just a number. That won’t just be a cute euphemism or a creepy R. Kelly song. If we’re able to effectively rewire and repair our biology, then it would be nothing more than a legal designation on our birth certificate. It would have no further bearing on our lives.
That could cause all sorts of issues for our love lives. Imagine walking down a busy street and not seeing anyone who looks older than 30 years old. It would be like walking through a college town everywhere you went. You wouldn’t know if that cute girl at the bar or that handsome guy on the bus is just out of college or of they’ve got five living grandchildren. How would flirting even work?
Guy: Hey there, cutie. You want to go get some coffee?
Girl: I’d love to, but I’m picking my granddaughter up from her retirement party. Maybe tomorrow?
That could really affect how we see romance, sex, and relationships. The whole concept of “Till death do you part” could suddenly become a major complication. Sure, there may be couples who manage to stay married for centuries. They’ll make for great stories, as many long-time spouses do today. Chances are they’ll be the exceedingly-rare exception and not the norm.
It may be the case that marriages and family bonds become subject to time-frames. People may just get together to raise a family, but once those kids reach a certain age, they go their separate ways, possibly to do it all over again with someone else. If their bodies don’t age and they remain healthy, what would stop them?
That assumes a lot about what people will even want if they live indefinitely and maintain their youth. Again, we have no precedent for this. We’ve never lived in a society where everyone is young, healthy, and immune to the rigors of time.
There may very well be effects that go beyond our personal lives. Even if our bodies never age beyond 30, our minds certainly will. Aging does have an impact on the human brain and I’m not just referring to the effects of dementia. Just living longer affects how we perceive the world. It even affects how we perceive time. A year to a 10-year-old means something very different to someone who is 95-years-old.
Even if we could maintain a high level of brain function for centuries, there’s still the possibility that we’ll struggle to function as a whole. Many major social movements throughout history occur because older generations that retained entrenched prejudices died off. How will we advance civil rights in a society where the old traditionalists never died off?
Still not over the Civil War.
Then, there’s the boredom issue. I’ve mentioned before how powerful boredom can be, even without living forever. What do we do with ourselves if we can live for centuries and never lose our youth? How would we keep ourselves occupied and entertained? Would the boredom drive us mad? Would it turn us into sociopath super-villains like Vandal Savage?
It’s impossible to know for now, but it’s a possibility that we should take seriously. We’re already dealing with the serious effects of overpopulation. How will our civilization and our planet cope if people stop aging?
Future currency could be the ability to stretch your arms.
None of this is to say that we shouldn’t pursue this technology. I’ve seen what aging does to people. I’ve seen how it effects people very close to me. We all probably know someone who endures endless hardship and discomfort because of their age. We should help them and the burgeoning anti-aging industry is poised to do just that.
We should also seriously contemplate what kind of society we’ll be creating if and when we cure aging. It will require a complete re-imagining of what it means to live, love, and be part of a family. Chances are people today will think it’s crazy. In a world where everyone stays young and sexy, it’ll just be life.
Daily Sexy Musing: Cold Night Snuggling
Halloween has passed. The days are getting shorter. It’s also getting noticeably colder outside. Unless you live in a tropical climate, in which case you’re the envy of many in my part of the world, these factors all lead to one critically sexy outcome. Snuggling is in and it’s about to get a lot more pragmatic.
I’ve already celebrated the joys of cuddling, but I make some key distinctions between cuddling and snuggling. As a self-professed romantic, I believe there are major differences and most people know them when they feel them. Cuddling is informal, playful, and supplementary to quality romance. Snuggling is more intimate and direct, allowing it to complement romance rather than just enhance it.
Before fire, snuggling was a key source of heat. There are logistics to it, which become even more necessary once we enter the fall and winter months. A good snuggle doesn’t just help us stay warm. It reminds us that we have a love in our lives that provides us with warmth, shelter, and protection in a very literal sense. Seriously, what could be more romantic than that?
This Daily Sexy Musing celebrates both the logistics and sentiment of snuggling. I hope it gives lovers out there something to contemplate on the many cold nights that await us this winter.
The night arrives. An unforgiving cold sweeps across the land. There’s no escaping it. Everywhere it goes, it seeks to expunge warmth and contentment. We cannot escape it, nor can we fight it. However, we can endure.
Alone, we only brave the coldness of the night.
Together, we dare defy it.
Unafraid of the looming darkness, we shed our clothes and gather blankets. We then surround ourselves in layers, insulating us from the icy touch of the night. Under the welcome shelter, we find each other. We follow one another to the only remaining source of heat. Thankfully, we don’t have to venture far.
The sun may be gone, but there is still warmth to be found. From you, the same flesh that arouses my every sense is now my salvation from the unforgiving gold. From me, I offer similar reprieve. I welcome you into my warmth. I share with you the sanctuary born from love, desire, and compassion.
I wrap you in my arms.
I surround you with my love.
I protect you as you protect me.
As our skin touches, heat fuels more heat. The cold attempts to snuff it out, but it fails miserably. There’s no stopping us. Our desire to keep each other warm proves too strong. Our need to survive the night proves too tenacious. By ourselves, we were vulnerable. With each other, we are stronger than any night.
Curled up under the sheets, creating more heat with every gesture, we smile. It is an affront to the cold and the darkness that spreads it. Where there was once despair and discomfort, we create a new domain for our passion. The night air can fight us all it wants. We’ll just fight harder with our love.
It starts with a simple snuggle, warm flesh warming warm flesh, the heat compounding every step of the way. It culminates in multiple ways. On one path, the heat allows us to make love. On one path, the heat allows us a peaceful sleep. In between, there are many others. All lead to a world of contentment.
Our bodies entwined, we navigate the cold night.
Our bodies entwined, we turn vulnerability into strength.
Our bodies entwined, we turn thoughts of passion into feelings of warmth.
Filed under Daily Sexy Musings
The following is a review I wrote for PopMatters for X-23 #6. Enjoy!
Class, Clones, and Killer Robots in Marvel Comics’ ‘X-23 #6’
November 8, 2018 · 5:02 pm
Movember Memories: Recounting The Time I Let My Beard Grow For Three Months
Greetings, and a very happy Movember to everyone. What is Movember, you ask? It’s not a holiday, a new social movement, or some exciting business opportunity that requires your credit card number. It’s actually an engaging, month-long event that helps raise awareness for objectively good causes.
Specifically, those causes involve serious issues affecting men, such as prostate cancer, testicular cancer, and suicide. In the same way Breast Cancer Awareness Month brings attention to a serious health issue that affects women, Movember does something similar for men. However, participating involves more than just talking about these issues.
Men who participate in this effort show their support by growing mustaches. For an entire month, they channel their inner Ron Swanson to show support for those affected by this issue. It may not seem like much, but it has had a positive impact. In 2012, the Movember Foundation raised $95 million dollars. Also, like Ron Swanson, it demonstrates the power of the mustache.
If you haven’t already, please consider donating to the Movember Foundation. Whether you’re liberal, conservative, feminist, libertarian, socialist, communist, or even an anarchist, it’s a great cause that helps a lot of people. I know gender politics is very heated these days, but providing support to those who need it should not be controversial.
In the spirit of Movember, I’d like to share a personal story that I think is fitting for this cause. It has to do with me and my relationship to facial hair. It’s something nearly every man has to deal with as they grow up. Everyone goes about it their own way. Some have to figure out the hard way that there’s a right and wrong way to manage it.
That’s exactly what I had to go through one fateful fall during my first semester of college. It was an exciting time. The nightmare that was high school was over. My acne problem had finally passed. I had been accepted into my top choice school. I finally had a chance to live on my own and get a taste of real independence. These were exciting times, indeed.
I celebrated that independence in many ways, but one of the first was that I stopped shaving entirely. For me, that was a big deal because I liked letting my facial hair grow. At first, it was just a good way for me to cover my acne. After a while, I just liked the way it made me look. Like my father and uncles, facial hair made me look distinctly masculine. It also gave me some badly-needed confidence.
While living at home, my mother often made me shave or trim my beard. Usually, she wouldn’t let me go more than two weeks without some kind of trim. I understand why she did it, but I still wanted to develop my own manly look. In college, I got that chance and I took it.
For three straight months, I did not shave. I didn’t use any blades, clippers, or trimmers. I just let my beard grow. Compared to all the other crazy things I could’ve done during my first semester in college, it was pretty tame. For me, though, it was a genuine thrill because I got to decide for myself how I wanted to look.
As a result, I learned a lot of important lessons about facial hair. For one, it can get dandruff. That actually became an issue at one point. It wasn’t enough to make me shave it, but after about two months, I had to actually put shampoo in my beard to keep the dandruff from getting too bad.
The next thing I notices is that when food gets caught in it, you tend not to notice until hours later. When a good chunk of your diet consists of noodles and cafeteria food, that is somewhat of an issue. One time, I got a box of buffalo wings for a football game. It got so messy that there were sauce stains in my beard for the rest of the day. Considering how much I love that smell, I didn’t see that as a bad thing.
Then, the weather got cold and I learned something else about having a thick beard. It will freeze up in a cold rain. A week before Thanksgiving, some freezing rain hit the area and I actually felt miniature icicles form in my beard. It was a weird feeling, but I didn’t see it as a detriment.
Shortly after that, though, I finally caved and trimmed it. I didn’t shave all of it off. I just trimmed it. My reason for doing so had less to do with the effects of the hair and more to do with the overall look it gave me. In addition to not shaving my beard, I didn’t cut my hair either. In doing so, I learned that unkempt hair over my entire face just wasn’t a good look for me.
I won’t say I looked bad. I’ll just say that I looked a bit too much like a first-year college student who enjoyed not being told when to shave. At one point, I looked like a crazed mountain man who lived in a cabin without running water. You can get away with that look in college. In the professional world, however, it’s a bit tougher.
After trimming it for Thanksgiving, I finally got into the habit of trimming it regularly. For a while, I just trimmed it with clippers every two weeks. Eventually, I got around to actually shaving parts of it. At one point, I did shave all of it off, but that did not look good on me. By the time I graduated college, I found a look that I embraced.
Currently, I maintain a healthy patch of facial hair that I try to keep trim. I haven’t let my beard grow that much in a long time. For Movember, though, I occasionally let my mustache get extra thick. I think it looks good on me and it helps me convey the kind of masculinity I want.
I don’t know if I’ll ever let my beard grow that thick again. Maybe at some point down the line, I’ll give it another shot. It may look better on me now than it did in college. If I do, I’ll be sure to share the results.
In the meantime, I encourage everyone to participate or contribute to Movember. Again, please take some time to donate to the Movember Foundation. There are serious male issues worth confronting. You don’t have to grow a thick beard like I did. You just have to let your manly mustache do the talking.
Filed under gender issues, Jack Fisher's Insights, men's issues, sex in society
Daily Sexy Musings: Fighting Stress (The Sexy Way)
Ever have one of those days where every minute feels like another 60 seconds of compounding stress? Maybe a better question would be how many of those days have you had in the past month? I’ve certainly had those days. Going all the way back to high school, I’ve had more than a few instances where I’ve cursed the clock for going too damn slow.
As rough as these days can be, they’re also the times in which we need a little extra loving. I remember one particular day in college where I was so stressed out that I wanted to punch the nearest brick wall. Then, my girlfriend at the time called me and talked dirty to me, as only she could. I felt better almost instantly.
There are, of course, many ways to relieve stress. This dose of my Daily Sexy Musings celebrates the sexier methods. There are plenty of those two, but their effectiveness is beyond dispute. It even goes beyond stress relief. When you can make someone happy after such a shitty day, you know you’ve got something special. Enjoy!
I drag myself through the door. Every step feels like a march through quicksand. I enter a home that only welcomes me with silence, numb to the day I just endured. I want to collapse where I stand. I wish I could punch this day in the jaw and spit in its face. That’s how much I hate it.
Then, you appear before me. In a sea of chaos and frustration, you pierce the veil and shatter the darkness. Your face, your gaze, and your presence stop my anguish dead in its tracks. I open my mouth to speak. Only an angry string of incoherent cursing comes out. It doesn’t dissuade you in the slightest.
You don’t say a word.
I fall silent.
Finally, this long, arduous day ceases.
I remain silent, fuming as though the air is stabbing me from every angle. You brave the storm, approaching me without fear or reservation. I grit my teeth and fight the turmoil within, forcing back the onslaught of misery that has bombarded me throughout the day. Your presence gives me strength, but it only goes so far.
You see my angry poise.
You sense my distress on every level.
You reach out into the sorrow and find me in its grasp.
The battle within is failing. This day has me on the brink of defeat. Then, you take me into your arms. You hold me, kiss me, and entwine your spirit with mine. Almost instantly, the tide turns. I fall back from the brink.
As you hold me, a new strength enters me. Every tense fiber relaxes. A lifeline comes my way and I seize it. Once again, you are my anchor. You guide me through strife, easing my anguish and replacing it with peace.
We don’t stop with simple touch. On the spot, you remove my clothes. With them, you strip me of the burdens I’ve born. Naked and exposed, I stand before you someone wounded by so many forces. However, I need only your love and your sex to heal.
Filed under Daily Sexy Musings
Why I’m Not Overly Excited About Voting
I’m bracing myself right now because I’m about to express a sentiment that’s going to put me at odds with a lot of people here in America. It’s a sentiment that runs contrary to some pretty loud rhetoric that has been brewing over the past two years. Some of it has even come from close family members. Knowing I’ll probably upset them too, I’ll just come out and say it.
I’m not that excited about voting.
I’ll give my fellow American’s a moment to stop fuming. For everyone else, I think a larger explanation is warranted. Bear with me because these are sensitive times for freedom, democracy, and everything in between.
Today, my country will conduct its mid-term election. It occurs every four years, right in between Presidential elections. These elections are a critical part of the foundation on which the United States government is built. These are the elections in which a sizable chunk of governors, senators, and representatives are elected.
While mid-term elections rarely generate the same voter turnout of Presidential elections, this year is different. The impact of the 2016 Presidential Election has galvanized the passions of both sides of the political spectrum. Conservatives seek to maintain their hold on power. Liberals seek to re-establish power after some of the worst setbacks in recent memory. To them, the stakes are very high.
I’m not entirely convinced of that. In fact, I feel like those stakes are so inflated that it makes me feel even less excited about voting. I see people in the media, on message boards, and within political circles calling this election the most important mid-term in history. That makes me suspect they have a narrow concept of history.
Now, I don’t deny the sincerity of those who say stuff like this. I get that they’re genuinely concerned about the direction of the country they love. They have this ideal vision for how they want America to be and getting like-minded people to vote is part of realizing that vision. Whether it’s reigning in the President, outlawing abortion, or legalizing weed, they have a fantasy that they want to make reality.
As someone who writes a lot about the sexy kind of fantasies, I can appreciate that to some extent. When I was younger, I even entertained similar visions. As I’ve gotten older, though, I’ve become less enchanted by my country’s democratic processes. The reasons for that have less to do with the content of those visions and more to do with the unique quirks of American elections.
The first complications surrounding American democracy, and one that sets it apart from other democratic countries, is that we don’t elect the President by a popular vote. We use something called the Electoral College. Simply put, our votes don’t go towards who we want to be President. They go towards electing the people who go onto elect the President.
If that sounds confusing, then you’re starting to see why I’m skeptical about voting. The logic behind the Electoral College made sense 200 years ago when trying to ensure that heavily populated states didn’t gain too much power over all the others. A lot has changed in 200 years and I’m not just talking about the prevalence of powdered wigs.
Since I became eligible to vote, I’ve seen two of the past three Presidents get elected without winning the popular vote. That means the candidate that got the most votes did not win the election. Call me cynical, but that does not sound very democratic.
To be fair, the Electoral College applies only to the President. Other representatives like governors, senators, and mayors are elected by way of popular vote. While that is more democratic, on paper, the logistics still aren’t ideal. That’s due to additional factors like gerrymandering, a practice that dilutes democracy to the point of watered down light beer.
Simply put, it ensures that your vote only partially matters because you didn’t necessarily pick the candidate. The candidate picked you by making sure you lived in their voting district. It’s a big reason why incumbents have such high re-election rates. It doesn’t matter how voting trends change. All that matters is aligning districts with a certain type of voters.
It’s not quite on the same level as the phony elections conducted by dictators, but it sends a painfully clear message. No matter how passionate you are at voting, there’s a good chance that it has little bearing on the outcome. That doesn’t mean your vote is thrown away. It still counts. It just doesn’t matter and I’m not the only one who has reached this conclusion.
Most of the time, you live in an area where the overwhelming majority of people align themselves with a particular part of the political spectrum. Districts located in rural areas almost always vote conservative. Districts located in cities almost always vote liberal. That divide has only widened over the years, especially since I began voting.
Some of that goes beyond direct influences like gerrymandering and voter suppression tactics. None of those tactics would even work if not for the predictable psychology of the average voter. In a perfect world, every voter goes to the polls as an objective, impartial citizens who weighs the worth of every candidate. However, we live in an imperfect world full of many imperfect people.
According to analysis of past elections, most people adopt the voting patterns of their parents. It’s not a minor factor, either. By a substantial margin, your vote was mostly determined when you were still a kid. That’s not a flaw in the system as much as it is a flaw in perspective.
If you grow up in a conservative environment, then you’ll vote in accord with conservative candidates. The same applies if you live in a liberal environment. The area I live is pretty liberal, for the most part. I’ve seen the polls for my candidates. The outcome is pretty much a given, no matter how I vote.
On top of all that, and it’s more than enough to temper my enthusiasm for democratic processes, voting in America is extremely inconvenient. It’s not a national holiday. It’s on a Tuesday in the middle of the week and often involves standing in long lines at poorly-staffed polling places. Sure, you can cast an absentee vote, but that process has its own set of complications.
Taken together, I find it frustrating, as a voter. The older I get, the more resigned I’ve become. Each passing year, I see more and more flaws in the system. I see reprehensible human beings and shameless hypocrites win elections, time and again. I also see the list of candidates and groan at my lack of options.
Despite all this, I’m still told that voting is important. Voting is what separates us from tyranny. Ignoring the historical fact that some tyrants come to power through democracy, I’m supposed to believe that my vote will help further the ideals my country espouses. As much as I love my country, I just have a hard time believing that.
Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m pretty cynical about voting and the current democratic processes in place for the United States. I’m not completely resigned, though. I still intend to vote, but I’m under no illusions. I know it won’t change much in the grand scheme of things. Like renewing my driver’s license, it’s part of my civic duty.
Regardless of who wins and who gets voted out, I can already sense where this narrative will go from here. I have a feeling that as soon as this day passes, the 2020 Election will be subsequently billed as the most important election in history. Just like before, the act of voting will be framed as taking part in a battle against a fascist army led by Darth Vader and Joseph Stalin.
That narrative, in my opinion, will do more to undermine voting than help it in the long run. At the end of the day, elections come and go. Leaders change, politics evolve, and demographics shift the cultural landscape. Not every election will go down in history as the most important. The act of voting in those elections won’t matter that much in the long run. It’s still worth doing, but it’s also worth maintaining perspective along the way.
Filed under Current Events, human nature, media issues, outrage culture, psychology
Daily Sexy Musings: Date Night
When it comes to the concept of date night, people tend to have mixed feelings. I know people who roll their eyes at the idea of a couple scheduling, especially if they’re already together or have been married. To them, the purpose of dating is to find out if someone is romantically compatible. I can totally understand this sentiment.
That said, I don’t agree with it. I believe dating has a much broader purpose. I also believe that it’s something couples shouldn’t stop doing, no matter how mature their relationship may be. From what I’ve observed and read over the years, I’ve noticed that good couples never stop dating one another. They never assume the work is done on a relationship and I think that’s a beautiful thing.
The following Daily Sexy Musing is a celebration of that beauty. Regardless of your relationship status, date night can a catalyst for a strong relationship rather than a chore. There’s a right way to do it, a wrong way, and a sexy way. I think I’ve made clear before which one I prefer. Enjoy!
The night is young, but our love is timeless. Once again, we intend to prove that. True love, does not stop and dedication does not cease. I put in the work. You return the favor. Tonight, however, I intend to work overtime.
We clear our schedule.
We purge all distractions.
We take time to make time for another.
We put on our best clothes. I seek from you the admiration I first saw when our eyes met. In you, see a beautiful memory made flesh. The past and the present converge, memories of old passions connecting with new ones. Time may change our bodies, but it only strengthens our hearts.
Before we even leave, we embrace. Like our first date, excitement and anticipation fill the air. In each other, we first found intrigue. In time, we find affirmation. I feel you and I know who you are. From my touch, I let you know who I am. From a simple connection, a complex feeling emerged and evolved.
It didn’t end with our first date.
It didn’t end with our first kiss.
It didn’t end with our first act of lovemaking.
It didn’t end with our hundredth act of lovemaking.
Like the waves of the ocean or the winds in the air, the feeling is ongoing. It shifts and it changes along the way, new conditions bringing new challenges. Together, we navigate and overcome them. Through every triumph, but especially within the failures, our love grows stronger.
On date night, there’s no obstacle to overcome. There are no uncertainties, anxieties, or tensions to resolve. It’s just us, going out into the world to celebrate this feeling we’ve forged. It begins with us dressed in our finest attire. It ends with us shedding that attire, crawling into bed together, and expressing our in its most basic form.
There’s no strict plan to follow. There’s no requirements with which to comply. The only necessity is you and me, us together for one night. We focus only on each other. Every ounce of effort, intent, and passion is channeled for a brief sliver of time within the chaos that is our collective lives.
There’s no stopping us. Together, we leave hand-in-hand and embrace our special time together. Tonight is our night and no one else’s. The world can step aside because there’s no stopping our love.
Filed under Daily Sexy Musings
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