Daily Sexy Musings: Halloween Loving

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Halloween is the most underrated holiday. I say that with a straight face and utmost confidence. Christmas may get all the fancy decorations and presents, but Halloween will always win in terms of raw entertainment and sex appeal. As a kid, I loved getting free candy. As an adult, I love seeing beautiful women use Halloween as an excuse to wear something sexy.

While I don’t think anyone needs an excuse to dress sexy, a holiday like Halloween makes things more convenient. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate the freedom and spirit that Halloween affords us. In college, I attended many amazing parties where people just cut loose and embraced their naughty side. It’s a beautiful thing, even amidst the ghouls, goblins, and tooth decay.

I love candy as much as the next adult, but as an aspiring erotica/romance writer, the sexier side of Halloween appeals to me much more. The following Daily Sexy Musing is a celebration of that spooky, yet fun appeal. We all have some devilish desires within us. For just one night, why not celebrate them in the sexiest way possible? Enjoy!

The sun is down.

The moon is out.

The cold, crisp night settles in.

At last, the ultimate witching hour is upon us. Every repressed desire bubbles to the surface. That little devil that whispers in our ear suddenly becomes louder. For once, we don’t shut that voice out. Instead, we heed his every word and follow our most deviant whims to the utmost.

We shed the clothes that made us so normal and tame. In their place, we don costumes that reflect our devious mood. Whether vampire, devil, zombie, or ghost, the particulars of the costume don’t matter. It is just the catalyst to a much greater feeling.

We put on a new face.

We cast off our mask.

We become what we dare not admit.

In an instant, we become something else. I look at you and I don’t see the same person. The sweet, considerate lover that I know so well disappears. In their place is someone darker and more daring. Restraint, innocence, and reservation are muted. It scares me, but draws me in. Fear breeds excitement and excitement promises exhilaration.

In my new form, I stand before you in the same shroud of darkness. The lover you know is still there, but has taken a new form. Everything you thought you know is incomplete. Tonight, I am unbound. The monster in me will roam free. The creature that I keep at bay takes over. You need only brace yourself for its passionate wrath.

Together, we are monsters.

Together, we channel our inner demons.

Together, we embrace our greatest fear.

Together, we tap our darkest desires.

I take your hand. You smile back at me with a grin that could freeze the gates of Hell. We follow each other out the door and into the night, in search of tricks and treats. The cool air takes us. The spirit of the night keeps us warm, but the intensity of dark passions makes us hot.

It’s Halloween! The demons come out. The ghouls roam free. Tonight, I am your monster and you are mine.

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A Personal Story About Puberty, Thongs, And High School

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It has been a while since I shared some personal insights. In my defense, this past year has been rough. Back in the summer, two very close family members of mine passed away. It has not been easy getting personal under those circumstances. I’d like to change that and in a way that isn’t entirely depressing.

With that in mind, I’d like to tell a story about puberty. I’ll give everyone a moment to stop laughing and/or cringing. Take all the time you need. If you’re like John Oliver, you may need more time than most.

I feel like it’s worth bringing up because, for better or for worse, how we go through puberty plays a big part in how we grow into adults. I can’t claim with a straight face that I handled puberty as well as I could’ve. If I were to grade myself, I would probably get a C-minus, at best. This story that I’m about to share should help explain why.

To understand why this moment in my life sticks out, there’s a particular context I need to establish, especially for my female audience. When it comes to changing from a child to an adult, there’s no one moment that marks the transition. One single strand of pubic hair doesn’t make you a man any more than one juice box makes you a kid.

More often than not, at least for men, there are a series of moments that effectively signal that you are not a kid anymore. You’re not an adult, either. You’re a teenager, steadily transforming into an adult body and doing your best to handle all these weird and overwhelming changes.

I can’t speak to the female experience, but I can say that as a male, those moments can be pretty powerful. They’re like way-points on the journey to adulthood. This story marks one of those way-points. It involves one of my least favorite classes in high school and cute girls wearing revealing thongs.

I’m being dead serious, here. Again, take all the time you need to stop laughing and/or cringing.

The setting was innocent enough. It’s my freshman year of high school. I’m an awkward 15-year-old with a terrible acne problem, an underwhelming stature, and low self-confidence. I’m also at an age where I’m really starting to feel my hormones and not just in terms of awkward boners. While I’d always enjoyed the company of girls, my teenage brain was starting to complicate those feelings.

I could manage that, for the most part. Then, I walk in my Introduction to Spanish class. Now, I’m already dreading this class because, at the time, I sucked at memorizing things not associated with comic books or NFL stats. It didn’t help that my teacher was awful so I was rarely in a good mood when I walked in.

That mood changed, somewhat, when my teacher gave us assigned seating in a new classroom. As it just so happened, I ended up sitting right behind a beautiful young woman with brown hair, tan skin, and nails she always painted purple. Why do I remember that while I forgot pretty much everything else in that class? That’s where thongs enter the story.

This girl, in addition to being beautiful and sweet, loved to wear thong underwear. I knew because from where I was sitting, I could see it clearly. It didn’t matter what kind of pants she wore or what the weather was like. Whenever she leaned forward on her desk, I got a perfect view of the top part of her thong.

I don’t know if it was intentional. This girl was not shy about her body, but not in a trashy sort of way. She was very sweet and kind to everyone, regardless of what she wore. She was that way with me, even though I had lousy social skills and bad acne. Whatever her reason, she didn’t seem to care that her thong showed every time she leaned forward. I never pointed it out to her and neither did anyone else.

I freely admit that I was very distracted by this, but not in a way I minded. If it weren’t a beautiful girl wearing a thong, it would’ve been something else. That’s how disinterested I was in this class. It led to more than a few awkward boners, but I’d been getting those for years. I’d never gotten them in a way that felt like a direct response to someone else’s presence.

It wasn’t just a sign that my body was changing. It signaled that my mind was changing too. How I felt and how I thought about girls was different than before. It was never going to be the same again and I feel like it started with that one thong-loving girl.

I acknowledge that there will be some people out there who think less of me for gawking at the sight of a young woman’s underwear, especially while at school. I’m won’t make excuse and I won’t apologize for it, either.

I was a 15-year-old boy going through puberty. I hadn’t yet mastered the art of hiding porn in my bedroom and the concept of sexy underwear on beautiful women was just starting to appeal to me. It’s for that very reason, however perverse some may find it, that this memory is so vivid for me.

It was at this moment, sitting in Spanish class and covertly admiring the cute girl’s thong, that I realized I was not a kid anymore. I was becoming an adult. That was a critical revelation for me because, up until that point, I still thought of myself as a kid. Even at 15, I hadn’t quite shed that part of my identity. This experience changed that.

I couldn’t keep clinging to childhood. Moreover, I didn’t want to anymore. I felt like an adult. I wanted to grow up. I know that sounds like a lot of revelation from just seeing a cute girl’s thong, but make no mistake. The impact was that profound. It remains a defining moment for my adolescence.

In addition to the thong, I also remember the girl’s name. For the sake of her privacy, I won’t share it. However, after I finished that class, I never had a class with her again. I didn’t see much of her for the rest of high school. I doubt I’ll ever see her again. Even if I don’t, her impact on my teenage life is etched in bedrock. For that, I thank her and her tastes in underwear.

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Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts Halloween 2018 Edition

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It’s that time of year again. Kids and chocolate addicts love it. Dentists and fundamentalist Christians hate it. Halloween has arrived! It’s an underrated holiday that I’ve come to appreciate more as an adult than I did as a kid.

Before, it was just an excuse to get free candy. Now, it’s an excuse to eat a lot of candy while watching beautiful women take full advantage of having an excuse to dress sexy. I know it’s not politically correct these days, but I’m all for any holiday or event that lets people be sexy without scrutiny. Adding candy to the mix can only help.

It’s not just about women in sexy costumes for me, as hard as that is to believe for someone. I genuinely enjoy giving candy to kids and seeing their faces light up when they get it. You really can’t give candy to kids these days without seeming creepy, but on Halloween, none of that matters and I think it’s a beautiful thing.

Every year, I make it a point to have the best candy. I intend to do the same this year while also taking time to admire the sexy costumes of beautiful women. For that reason, I dedicate this week’s edition of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts to all those who appreciate Halloween as much as I do. Enjoy!


“Getting good at sex isn’t like riding a bike, but it does involve exercising similar muscles.”


“A dentist is probably more uptight when it comes to receiving oral sex.”


“A class that teaches quality foreplay is the only course that has enjoyable homework.”


“The only difference between a bar fight and a drunken hook-up is the kind of furniture that gets broken.”


“Having faith in our lover’s ability to make us orgasm is the only truly universal religion.”


“These days, a dildo is the only gadget with which we have a more intimate relationship than our phones.”


“When you think about it, every illicit drug is attempting to match or exceed the feeling we get when we make love.”


I hope that got everyone into the Halloween spirit, among other things. Whether you’re just a kid looking for some free candy or a beautiful woman who just needs an excuse to wear that sexy nurse costume, I hope you find a way to enjoy Halloween this year. It’s a sweet holiday with some extra sex appeal. What’s not to love?

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“Dark Mistress” A Sexy Short Story (For Halloween)

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The following is a sexy short story I wrote for Halloween that combines magic, witchcraft, and sex appeal. I believe it makes for an appropriate and festive piece. Hope this makes everyone’s Halloween a little sexier. Enjoy!

“I need you tonight, my dark mistress,” said an anxious, but determined Ron Shermfeld. “Please, don’t make me wait longer than I have to.”

The tone and intensity of that voice was completely foreign to anyone who knew Ron. By day, he carried himself as the kind of man who everyone graveled to, especially women. In high school and college, he was a star athlete with the body of an Olympian. As a young adult, he became a successful businessman with a reputation for toughness and intimidation. He never had to beg for anything from anyone. It was always the other way around.

On some nights, though, that all changed. On Halloween, such radical change took on a far greater meaning.

“Everyone wanted me at their party, tonight,” Ron said to the locked door. “Old college buddies invited me to a frat house. They said there would be at least two dozen beautiful women there…every one of which would get naked for me on the spot if they know I won two national titles for the school eight years ago.”

He must have sounded crazy, turning down a party like that. It didn’t sound crazy to him. It just made him knock on the door even harder.

“I also turned down a party at my office,” he said. “They wanted to put on this big, elaborate spectacle…one that involved me dressing up like a king and carrying me out on a makeshift throne. My senior VP of accounting – a guy who hasn’t been to a party since grade school – said they were going to bow like servants. He even said I deserved nothing less after leading my company to record profits this past quarter.”

That sounded even crazier. Ron had even seen the throne that the marketing people at his company put together. Telling them it wouldn’t be necessary must have broken their hearts, but they didn’t argue with him. Nobody argued with him. That was part of the problem.

“They all said I could have anyone and anything I wanted,” Ron said. “One guy said I could fuck his wife and daughter if I wanted and he would thank me for it. I don’t know if that’s because he loves me that much or if he’s just that scared of me. I never know for sure. That’s why I need someone I don’t doubt. That’s why I need you!”

Ron leaned on the door, his usual strength failing him. It felt so strange, feeling so weak and timid. Those used to be such alien feelings for him. His older sisters once joked that he came out of the womb bigger and stronger than anyone. Blessed with a muscular stature, a strong work ethic, and uncanny charisma, he had a knack for influencing and dominating everyone around him.

He’d been so popular in school that women used to fight each other over who got to sleep with him first. He’d been so skilled as an athlete that his own coaches became intimidated by him. He thought starting a business after college would be a challenge. It turned out to be way too easy. Wherever he exerted himself, people bent over backwards for him. They never stood up to him or contested him. Success came so easy to Ron that it barely felt like he was trying.

His world became so mundane. Everything seemed so predictable. There was nothing greater to strive for, no force he couldn’t overcome or person he couldn’t dominate. Then, she entered his life and revealed a world completely different from the one he dominated.

“Dark mistress,” he said, now begging like a child, “can you hear me?”

“I can hear you fine, my loyal minion,” replied a voice from the other side of the door. “I’ve been listening for the past fifteen minutes. The sound of your submissive tone just gets me so wet.”

A wave of relief came over Ron, but only briefly. His dark mistress was nearby. She was so close he could smell that lilac-scented perfume she always wore. However, on Halloween night, just smelling her was hardly enough. A powerful witch demanded more from him.

“Ella Bloodleaf,” Ron said under his breath. “I can feel your power on me. I’m here for you.”

He put both hands on the door that separated him from the woman whose touch he craved. It felt more like a mountain than a simple entrance to a penthouse apartment atop an affluent complex in the heart of the city. It was only a fifteen minute drive from his office, but it might as well have been an ocean. That was how powerful Ella’s hold on him was and it went beyond her skills in witchcraft.

His dark mistress wasn’t a witch in the tradition of fairy tales and ghost stories. She wasn’t even a witch in the mold of the New Age, pseudo-spiritual crowd. Ella Bloodleaf was the kind of which who occupied a vast, but hidden world of magic, spirit, and power. It wasn’t some fantasy or gimmick. It was real. Magic existed in his world and witches were its most skilled wielders.

Only a select few knew of such secrets. Even fewer accepted how real it was. Ron was one of the select few and Ella was his anchor to that world.

“It’s Halloween,” she said through the closed door. “Do you know what that means?”

“I do, dark mistress,” Ron replied.

“The stars are aligned. The mood of countless souls is heightened. The primordial forces that penetrate our world are at their most intense. Are you strong enough to handle them?”

“I am,” he said without hesitation. “For you, I’m as strong as I need to be.”

For a brief moment, his strength mixed with his desperation. That must have been the intent his mistress had been looking for because she finally unlocked the door. When it opened, he finally saw her. His beautiful dark mistress stood before her in all her macabre glory.

She was no old hag from an outdated fairy tale. Ella had the body of a goddess and the poise that could intimidate the devil. She never hesitated to show off her otherworldly beauty, either. Her skin was pale, but perfectly smooth, as if polished by nature. She wore ruby-red lipstick, which perfectly complemented her emerald green eyes. Ron swore her gaze could render even the most powerful men paralyzed in awe. It reflected both her beauty and the magic within.

She’d even dispensed with her usual garb, wearing only a thin lingerie that was almost entirely transplant. Ron could clearly see her ample breasts and luscious curves. He could even see the revealing thong she wore underneath, which already appeared soaked with arousal.

“My beautiful dark mistress,” he said as he entered the approached her.

“Remain where you are!” Ella said sternly. “You’re in my domain, dear minion. That means I’m in command.”

“Of course, dark mistress,” Ron said with perfect obedience.

Like a reflex, he stood frozen just a few feet from the front door to her penthouse. There was no secluded cottage or dark cave. Real witches lived in opulent, but private surroundings. A penthouse atop an expensive urban condominium definitely qualified. It was like entering a palace dedicated to Ella’s power and he was just a lowly peasant.

For a moment, he just stood there, still as a statue while his mistress leaned against her kitchen counter, not at all hiding her revealing attire and her aroused state. Then, in a show of her power, she waved her hand and the door slammed shut. It was a simple act for a witch, but one that sent a powerful message.

She could make the impossible happen. She could bend the rules of reality to her whim. More specifically, she could bend him to her whims. She was just that powerful, but her power went beyond the realm of magic.

“There’s an old saying among practicing witches,” she said to him as she trailed her hand up her shapely thighs. “The greatest source of magic is through sheer force of will, but the intensity of that magic depends on others believing it exists. To re-shape the world, you must first believe you can. Even then, only a handful believe strongly enough.”

“I believe in you, dark mistress,” Ron told her.

“I know you do. That means my dominion is dependent on reaffirming that belief. On Halloween, when so many dare to belief, I can do so much more than just wield great magic.”

She spoke with the kind of a seductive certainty that had initially attracted him to her. There allure to such certainty. It went beyond mere confidence. Ron dealt with confident people all the time, but Ella took it a million steps further.

“For centuries, witches covens had to balance wielding magic with fostering belief in it,” Ella went on. “Magic is at the heart of our power, but magic requires belief. It’s not enough to just show someone it’s possible to turn an onion into a precious gem. By seeing it, they no longer need to believe. Only a select few can bear witness to magic and continue believing in it.”

“And I’m one of them,” Ron said.

“That you are, my handsome minion. That you are,” she said with even more seduction.

She cast him a smile equally befitting of an angel and a demon. She then approached him, placing her hands on his shoulders and letting that body of hers press up against his. Even through his Armani suit, he felt the unique energy radiating from her body. Only a skilled and powerful witch could exude such energy. That aura affected him more than most.

He remained paralyzed in her presence, completely and willingly subdued by her power. He could barely breathe as she gazed at him with that devious, yet affectionate glance. Her beauty, sexiness, and touch could captivate any man with a shred of desire, but his dark mistress enchanted him in a very special way.

“That’s exactly why Halloween is such an important night for us,” his dark mistress went on. “On this night, people dare to believe in the power of the macabre. Every practicing witch makes it a point to channel that belief into something greater…something that allows them stronger dominion over the forces that hide in the shadows.”

“That’s why I came to you,” Ron said. “I am under your dominion. Your strength is my fulfillment.”

“Spoken like a man who has come to appreciate the benefits of a witch’s domineering touch,” she said curtly.

“It’s not just appreciation, dark mistress. Every day of my life, others cater to my every whim. I am without bound or limits. I want…I need limits to keep myself anchored.”

“That’s not all you needed, my minion. Tonight, in the spirit of Halloween, I intend to remind you why submission in a witch’s domain unleashes our freest passions!”

There was that certainty again. It left him breathless, his legs trembling in her presence. He might have been a former athlete who stood nearly a foot taller than Ella Bloodleaf, but within her embrace, she might as well have been a titan.

His paralyzed state reflected his submission.

His submission also reflected his belief.

From that belief, Ella’s power intensified. Her eyes began glowing, the magic that many failed to believe manifesting before him. That power made the air around them feel hotter, as though the flames of the underworld were raging outside. It effectively locked Ron into her domain. She could demand anything from him and, as her loyal minion, he must obey her.

“I can feel it already,” his dark mistress seethed as her grip on him intensified, “the spirit of Halloween…the belief in magic, spirits, and darkness.”

“I feel it too, dark mistress,” Ron said. “Your power…it still amazes me.”

“Then, it’s time I put it to use!”

With a devious glint in her eye, Ella casually tapped the collar of his neatly-tailored dress shirt. In another act of magic, coupled with his dominion over him, his clothes removed themselves from his body.

It was like being caught in a storm with no shelter. First, his tie undid itself and flew off. His blazer jacket quickly followed. Then, his shirt unbuttoned itself and an invisible hand pulled it off. As the spectacle unfolded, a still grinning Ella lightly tapped his belt buckle with her finger. Like his shirt, it too came to life like a scene out of a fairy tale. However, there story that unfolded was not fit for children.

The same invisible forces that took off his shirt made quick work of his pants, underwear, and overpriced dress shoes, rendering him completely naked. He soon stood before his dark mistress, the muscular physique that often intimidated others completely vulnerable to her power. Ron wasn’t used to such vulnerability, but that was exactly why he found it so exciting.

“So much strength and power,” she said with devious admiration. “No wonder others find you so intimidating. I bet women look at you and cower like dogs…dogs that go into heat quite readily.”

“They do…too readily, at times,” Ron said.

“That’s because they’re not witches. They may acknowledge their baser instincts, but they rarely embrace them…let alone augment them with magic.”

There was no subtlety to her tone. Her devious smile widened as she approached him again, her eyes lecherously drifting up and down his masculine features. She let her scantily-clad form press up against his naked flesh, her touch sending shivers of intimate energy coursing through his body. It was more than enough to send his blood flowing in all the right directions.

Despite his arousal and his temptation to touch her flesh, Ron remained dead still. That gave his dark mistress free reign. With it, she hungrily pawed chest, trailing her fingers over his manly sinews. Between his submission and her dominating power, she became very aroused.

“It’s one thing to simply act on the whims of natural forces,” Ella said, her polished nails trailing over his arms. “It’s quite another to augment them…to take a simple act and enhance it through will. That requires one willing to dominate and one just as willing to submit.”

“I am willing, dark mistress,” he said without reservation. “I hope I’ve made that clear in the brief time we’ve been together.”

“You’ve done plenty, my loyal minion,” she said, “but never on Halloween. Tonight, you will know the true breadth of a witch’s power!”

Her voice shook the walls. Her touch became firmer. Ron swore she could knock him out with her pinkie finger. His dark mistress just exuded that much strength. In another life, his first instinct was to match it. Instead, he felt inclined to submit to it.

Her eyes still glowing with the magic of a skilled witch, she grabbed him by the wrist and led him into the master bedroom of the opulent penthouse. Ella didn’t have the size or muscle mass he did, but her grip had the strength of a charging bull. Her will, her power, and her dark allure made her a force that demanded subordination.

Even the star athlete in him struggled to keep up as she used her magic to open the doors to the bedroom. In doing so, his dark mistress revealed a setup that put every other Halloween celebration to same.

“Wow,” Ron gasped.

“Keep moving!” his dark mistress demanded.

Ron barely had time to admire the ambience. All the windows had been blacked out. All the lights had been covered. The only source of illumination were several dozen candles, each arranged in a series of patterns throughout the room. They didn’t look like the kind sold at a craft store. They gave of a light that seemed to illuminate the hidden power within. It was like shining a light on the magical world his dark mistress had revealed to him.

In addition to the candles, the king-sized bed that usually stood in the room had been replaced with a large altar covered in a red blanket. Upon that blanket, he saw a series of elaborate symbols etched in the fabric. He’d recognized those symbols from his previous unions with Ella, but he’d never seen them glow with such intensity.

“Lie down,” she demanded.

Ron did as she asked without hesitation. He climbed onto the altar and laid flat on his back, his naked body illuminated under the steady glow of the surrounding candles. Before he could even get comfortable, she waved her hand and several restraints floated up from a nearby table.

“Hold still,” his dark mistress told him.

Again, he wordlessly complied. He remained perfectly still as the restraints, guided by magic, fastened themselves around his wrists and ankles. Then, after another wave of her hand, they attached themselves to the altar, leaving him completely restrained and even more at her mercy.

That feeling, being completely under the whim of his dark mistress, gave Ron a rush that he so rarely felt. Being so weak and vulnerable, not able to impose his will on anyone or anything, was so alien. He’d just give himself over to someone in a way that rendered all his natural strengths and talents moot. It was scary, but also liberating in a strange way.

“You are now bound by a witch’s will,” Ella told him. “You submit to me, freely and willingly. You believe in my power. Tell me you believe!”

“I believe, dark mistress. I truly, honestly believe,” Ron said, conveying total submission through his voice.

For a moment, she just stood still at the side of the altar. Her eyes stopped glowing and she looked down on him with folded arms, as if to judge him the way any goddess would when faced with a mortal soul. He laid before her, unflinching in his submission to her, conveying the extent of his belief with his eyes.

Finally, she leered over him so that her alluring, yet devious face was the only thing he saw.

“You speak the truth, both with your words and your actions,” she told him. “A strong man so willing and eager to submit to a greater power…that is a rare, but beautiful feat. The fates tend reward such submission and witches have always been their greatest patrons…especially on nights like this.”

She briefly leaned in to kiss him. Her lips were so close that he could taste their sinister sweetness in the air. At the last second, though, she pulled back. It was tortuous, but Ron voiced no dismay. He just watched as his dark mistress made her way to the foot of the altar.

“I can already feel the energy from the night. It’s so intense. I intend to tap it, but doing so means maximizing my domination over one who freely submits.”

From where she stood, Ella closed her eyes and began chanting a string of incantations. She was casting a spell. Ron had seen her do it before. It often made for quite a spectacle. However, he had a feeling that what he was about to see would top them all.

The flames on the candles flared up, as though they’d been doused with gasoline. The whole room briefly became as hot as a sauna. At the same time, the area under the altar began glowing, the energy from an unseen realm seeping through the fabric of reality. It was like touching the impossible. Whereas most would be inclined to run, Ron had already submitted to it. He felt it flowing around and through him. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

“I submit…freely,” he said amidst the display.

Ella continued chanting. Within intense glow, she levitated into the air, casting off the shackles of gravity as though they were nothing. As she ascended, the thin cloak that she’d been wearing fell off, leaving her only in her revealing black thong. Her perfect breasts, polished skin, and alluring aura was illuminated by the mystical feat. Her goddess-like beauty now had the power to go along with it.

“My dark mistress,” Ron said with divine admiration.

She stopped chanting, but remained in mid-air. Her eyes glowed bright red and she narrowed her gaze on him, her body now surrounded in a fiery halo. She had such intensity radiating from her flesh, more so than he had ever seen before. Either the spirit of Halloween was just that potent or she was even hornier than he thought. It was probably a combination of both.

“By the spirits and gods…the veil of darkness is lifted!” Ella proclaimed. “In the name of All Hallows Eve, I seize this power for myself and my willing minion!”

The light under the altar steadied.

The flames from the candles settled into a steady glow.

The energy halo surrounding his dark mistress swirled a bit longer, but eventually converged within her like metal to a magnet. After absorbing the energy, she had the poise of someone who could slay an army of angels and demons. However, rather than wage war, she directed her focus onto him.

Her eyes stopped glowing, but the look of raw exhilaration never waned. She then lowered onto the altar, as if carried by the air around her. As soon as she landed, an unseen force ripped her thong off, torn to shreds as if it had been caught in a tornado. Now standing above him in all her naked glory, Ella epitomized the ultimate power and beauty of a witch. He was so lucky to call her his mistress.

“Such power. Such grace,” Ron said with the utmost awe.

“Silence, minion!” she said, her voice booming like thunder. “It’s time to complete the ritual!”

Knowing what that entailed, Ron could only brace himself for the onslaught to come. Bound and entranced, his fate now lay in the hands of his dominating dark mistress.

She wasted no time in wielding it. Making use of the magic she’d just tapped, she knelt down onto the altar and took his semi-erect dick in both hands. Then, in gesture so seductive that a lesser man would’ve fainted, she tapped the tip of his member with her tongue. Immediately, he felt the effect.

“Ohhhh, dark mistress!” Ron gasped.

In defiance of basic male biology, his penis grew and stiffened into a state that put even the most endowed men to shame. It was like someone had hooked a super-charger to his sex drive. His member was so hard that he felt like he could cut stone with it.

That was the power of a witch’s magic.

That was the reward of willing submission to his dark mistress.

“My minion…you are now imbued with the ability to embrace the ecstasy of darkness,” she told him, licking her lips while still stroking his cock. “Prepare to push your mind, body, and soul to its limits. Pursuing such ecstasy can be…overwhelming.”

“For you, dark mistress…I will endure,” Ron said to her.

“You’d better. It is not wise to leave a witch unsatisfied…especially on Halloween.”

She gave him little time to gather himself. Empowered and aroused to the utmost, his dark mistress had a lust in her eyes that defied measure. He was now the target of a witch’s most fervent desires. Ron honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend Halloween.

Like a predator pouncing on a mountain of prey, Ella got on top of him and straddled his waist, aligning his throbbing-hard dick with her dripping-wet pussy. She then grabbed onto his torso, her grip feeling like the claws of a demon, as if to reaffirm the extent of her hold on him. From there, through a single downward thrust of her hips, she drove his flesh up into her.

“Yes!” Ella exclaimed. “I feel it…power through flesh…magic through feeling!”

“Dark Mistress,” Ron gasped, “I feel it too.”

“Quiet, minion!” she spat. “You will say nothing while I indulge in the darkness!”

Ron fell silent again. His only speech from that point forward was through grunts and moans of bliss. Through the power wielded by his dark mistress, there promised to be plenty, so long as he continued submitting.

From his bound state, he watched his beautiful mistress ravage him as only a powerful witch could. She rode his cock hard, bouncing and gyrating her hips with such fervor, working her wet folds along the length of his rigid manhood. Every motion brought hot ecstasy, but every sensations felt supplemented by the same unseen power that had filled the room.

It was magic at its most potent, channeled through flesh and desire. Ella just gave it form and substance, guiding the energies and the dazzling displays they conjured every step of the way. As she rode him, the light under the altar pulsated like beacon, illuminating her naked body in every exquisite detail. Other swirling lights danced around her like miniature fireworks, further adding to the spectacle.

It turned ideas of beauty, sex, and pleasure into something real, making tangible concepts out of intangible ideas. It was something Ron could not dominate. Only through submission to his mistress could he experience such wonder. Even as he lay bound, bare, and at the mercy of a powerful witch riding his cock, he’d never felt so free.

“Oh yes! Ohhh yes!” his dark mistress exclaimed. “Praise the darkness! Praise the spirits! Praise the union of magic and flesh!”

Her echoed throughout the room, silencing any and all distractions that might have undermined the ritual. It ensured that every bit of Ron’s attention remained focused on his dark mistress and the ecstasy she’d conjured. She wasn’t just the center of his world. She was his world.

He continued grunting and moaning as his mistresses fucked him at a ravenous pace, riding his cock so hard that it tested his ability to process such feelings. His body ached for a release, literally and figuratively, but he understood how such rituals work. To submit to his dark mistress also meant trusting her to grant him that release accordingly. A witch’s dominion over their minions was that extensive.

However, a good mistress and a good minion knew how to control orgasmic feats fairly and with the utmost skill. Having tasted the fruits of Ella Bloodleaf’s skill before, Ron had complete trust in his dark mistress. He’d just never tasted them on Halloween before.

“My minion…I’m close,” his dark mistress said amidst her relentless riding. “Your mistress…is about to come. Tell me…you want me to come!”

“I want you…to come,” Ron said, his words strained by so many overwhelming feelings.

“Louder! Say it louder!” she demanded.

“I want you to come!” he yelled out.

“Say it again!”

“I want you to come, dark mistress!”

“Again!

“I WANT YOU TO COME!”

At that point, every muscle in his body was near its limits. His dick burned with hot pleasure, throbbing desperately for an overdue climax. However, it could not happen until his dark mistress came first.

She did not make it easy for him. In the swirling light of the magical spectacle, he could tell in her devious expression that she was drawing it out, remaining emerged in her utter domination over him and the pleasure it brought. He could also tell she wanted to taste the fruits of that pleasure too. Eventually, her dominating desires caught up with his submissive needs.

“OHHH YES! I’M COMING!” Ella Bloodleaf exclaimed.

In a moment that caused every candle in the room to flare up again, his dark mistress raked her nails down his torso and threw her head back in an orgasmic frenzy. Her inner muscles throbbed, her skin became hot, and expression matched that of every angel in heaven while every demon in Hell watched with envy. While the magic provided the catalyst, his dark mistress provided the guidance.

It marked the culmination of a ritual born from his submission and her dominion. The walls and altar shuddered in wake of her cries, like thunder shattering the air. Another halo of light surrounded her naked body, erupting like a volcano finally bursting its top. It was a beautiful sight that was only compounded by his own badly-needed release.

“My dark mistress,” was all he could get out as the feeling hit.

While Ella’s orgasm made for such a dazzling display, his was every bit as spectacular. His expression tensed and every muscle in his lower body burned, but he never once diverted his gaze from his dark mistress. He moaned as his member tensed inside the throbbing depths of his dark mistress, his manly fluids mixing with her feminine juices. It was its own magical conjuring, turning a powerful feeling into something real.

Sex, desire, passion, magic, darkness, submission, and domination all came together. Everything beautiful and devious manifested in that one moment. On Halloween night, it felt so appropriate.

“Mmm…praise the spirits,” Ella said, her body still writhing in orgasmic bliss.

“And praise, my dark mistress,” Ron said.

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

“Forgive me.”

“I’ll grant you mercy…for a price.”

That price proved more than fair. Even as the halo of energy swirled around her, she leaned over and gave him a deep kiss. Finally, Ron got to taste the flesh of his beautiful, merciful mistress of darkness. On a night when decadence, darkness, and sweet tastes were everywhere, it couldn’t have been more satisfying.

The kiss ended. The orgasmic onslaught settled. His dark mistress remained hovering over him, her domineering yet affectionate grin never waning. She perfectly embodied the spirit of a witch. She wielded great power to pursue greater experiences. Ron believed in that power and in her. By submitting to it, he got to experience it too.

“Happy Halloween, my loyal minion,” Ella said to him.

“Happy Halloween, my dark mistress,” he replied.

“You’ve satisfied a powerful witch. That’s quite a feat…one I intend to reward for the rest of the night!”

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The following is a review for “X-men Red #9” that I wrote for PopMatters. Enjoy!

Marvel’s ‘X-men Red #9’ Gets into Psychic Wargames and Battling Ideas

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October 26, 2018 · 11:46 pm

Daily Sexy Musings: Love And Quickies

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Who doesn’t enjoy a good quickie? When you think about it, there’s something wholly pragmatic about the concept, just getting sexy and getting the job. There doesn’t have to be an elaborate setup or a drawn-out act of passion. It can be quick, brief, and effective. We value that sort of efficiency in every other part of our lives. Why not apply it to our love lives?

Quickies get a bad rap, in my opinion. They’re seen as shallow and unromantic. I respectfully disagree. I believe they can be a powerful tool in our romantic arsenal. When used correctly, they can compound our passions rather than undercut them. The key is using them correctly, which I believe is possible, but difficult.

The following Daily Sexy Musing attempts to apply the power of the quickie. There is a right way and a wrong way to go about it. When done wrong, it can be pretty bland. When done right, though, it can be a special kind of sexy. Enjoy!

I walk into a room. There’s no candles, no fancy dinner, and no fancy lingerie. There’s only you and me, two lovers in a private setting. That’s all we need. That’s all we’ve ever needed. This time, however, there’s no room for seduction. I tell you with my gaze that I intend to skip every typical step from seduction to afterglow.

We skip the banter.

We skip the teasing.

We skip the ambience.

We skip the theatrics and get right to the good stuff.

I don’t say a word and neither do you. We just approach one another and let primal instincts do the rest. Somewhere between our first gaze and our first embrace, our clothes come off. There’s no theatrics or coy antics. We know what we want, we remove the barriers, and we go about getting it.

Now naked and free, we kiss and we touch. We don’t bother being gentle. Our needs outweigh our wants. Our every passion is channeled, focused a singular task. We crave each other’s love in its most basic form. A simple kiss, a simple touch, and a simple gesture is all it takes. From there, we take a short-cut to ecstasy.

There’s no wasted effort.

There’s no wasted breath.

There’s no wasted energy.

We don’t even make it to the bedroom. Any enclosing or piece of furniture that can accommodate our presence will do. We find the nearest site. We align our bodies accordingly. From there, our flesh unites and everything falls into place.

We don’t hold back.

We don’t draw it out.

We don’t squander a single moment.

Every movement takes us closer and every touch draws us nearer. It’s the ultimate shortcut, a direct route to the heights of passion. We let ourselves be reckless and greedy, allowing our lust to subvert our love. The end result is the same, a sweet release of euphoria between us. It’s takes only moments, but the impacts run much deeper.

It’s quick, but meaningful. We get what we want and we cherish the feeling. No words are needed. No explanation is necessary. We can make love like angels and mate like animals in heat. One way or another, our passion finds a way. Some are just more direct than others.

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Understanding The Recent Changes (And Upheavals) In The Life Of Carol Danvers

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Some characters are iconic from the get-go. Spider-Man, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman all managed to establish themselves as special early on in their history. They’re the lucky ones, though. Most characters have to go through a long, arduous process to reach the top tier of superhero icons. A lot of them never make it, but those that do are special in their own right.

These days, the character who best embodies that spirit is Carol Danvers. You don’t have to go back too far to remember a time when she was relegated to the superhero B-list. As Ms. Marvel, she had her share of fans. I was one of them. She also had her place in the annuls of Marvel lore. However, she was never able to break through and join that elite club occupied almost exclusively of Stan Lee creations.

That all changed when Kelly Sue DeConnick came along and reinvented Carol Danvers as Captain Marvel in 2012. That process, which has since become one of my favorite runs on a comic book series of the past 10 years, helped Carol finally break into the upper echelon of superheroes. With a movie coming out in 2019 staring Brie Larson, it’s safe to say she’s entrenched.

I could write a dozen articles about why Carol Danvers’ character resonates more now than it did when she first showed up in 1968. I’ve already mentioned some of the unique challenges she faces as she enters rarefied air among Marvel heroes and female superheroes, in general. However, I want to focus on one particular aspect of her character that helps her stand out.

As it just so happens, it’s also part of her character that recently underwent a major upheaval in the comics. Among other comic book fans, it has been controversial. I’ve certainly seen more than a little whining on message boards and Reddit. I have my share of criticisms too, but I intend to justify why I believe this is a promising new era for Carol “Captain Marvel” Danvers.

The upheaval in question occurred in a recently-launched mini-series called “The Life of Captain Marvel.” Written by Margaret Stohl, who has been guiding Carol’s journey for several years now, I cannot recommend this series enough. It is, by far, one of the best Carol Danvers stories ever written. Years from now, it will likely mark a major turning point for her story.

That’s because Stohl does something that’s both critical and controversial to Carol’s history. She makes a major alteration to an aspect of Carol’s life that doesn’t change her past, but puts it in a very different perspective. That change, in my opinion, makes Carol a much more intriguing character.

If you want to avoid spoilers, you should probably stop reading here and check out the series. Again, I highly recommend it. The big change, however, takes place in the fourth issue. Here, her mother, Marie, drops a bombshell revelation on Carol that rocks her world. She reveals that she’s half-human and half-alien. Specifically, she’s half-Kree.

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Anyone who saw “Guardians of the Galaxy” knows why that’s a big deal.

Anyone who has a passing knowledge of Marvel history knows why that’s a huge deal.

The fact that she’s half-alien isn’t that unique. Peter “Starlord” Quill has a similar heritage. The reason it’s such a big deal for Carol is because it changes the context of how she got her powers and the role she plays in the greater Marvel universe.

Before this change, Carol’s powers were somewhat of an afterthought. Like Spider-Man, they were the result of an accident. Her’s just involved alien device called the Psyche Magnetron. She got caught in an explosion and that explosion allegedly fused her DNA with Kree DNA to give her superpowers. It’s not the most contrived origins story, but it’s not exactly epic.

To some extent, getting her powers by accident undercut all the work she did before that. Even without powers, she managed to carve out a successful career in the air force and NASA. That work became somewhat superfluous once she got superpowers. Unlike Peter Parker, she was already on a heroic path. Getting powers just seemed like skipping a bunch of steps.

With the revelation by her mother, there’s more connective tissue between her journey as Carol Danvers and her journey as Captain Marvel. Her mother, who comes out as a full-blooded Kree warrior, tells Carol that the accident wasn’t the sole cause of her abilities. It was just the catalyst. These are her exact words.

“What humans see as Kree powers are just our biological adaptations to a life of combat. They’re triggered in battle, usually around adolescence. Sadly, most of us have known war by then.”

This implies that even if she hadn’t been caught in the crossfire of the Psyche Magnetron, her Kree abilities would’ve come out at some point. For some fans, including die-hard Captain Marvel fans, it feels like this is denigrating her origins. I respectfully disagree with that notion. I believe this gives Carol’s story a new kind of appeal.

In terms of how superheroes become iconic, how they get their powers and how they choose to use them plays a huge part in their appeal. I would argue that just making Carol an ordinary human who got caught in an accident has limited appeal. Like I said before, she’s not Peter Parker. She’s not an average person. She’s more like Batman in that she’s an overachiever who strives to do more.

Her being half-Kree adds a new dynamic to the mix because it makes Carol a product of two different worlds. She is born on Earth and lives her whole life as a human. However, she now has this alien heritage that has already influenced her life in ways she didn’t understand. You need only look at the mass appeal of Superman to see why that story is compelling.

Being half-Kree means Carol suddenly has a connection to a race that has waged war on Earth before. She also has a connection to a world that has blatantly experimented on humans before. At the same time, her human life wasn’t exactly ideal. Unlike Superman, she was not raised by picture perfect parents like the Kents.

Her mother, despite being a Kree warrior, was in an unstable relationship with Carol’s very human father. Their family suffered a devastating loss when Carol’s brother, Steve, died in combat. They never really recovered from that and, for most of Carol’s history, that loss kept her parents as a side-note at best in her journey.

With Carol’s mother being a Kree warrior, it changes her into something more than a woman who stayed in a bad marriage. It adds more layers to why she and her husband clashed. Even in the first few issues of “The Life of Captain Marvel,” her father comes off as a generic asshole. Finding out he was dealing with an alien wife makes his struggles a lot less generic.

In many ways, Carol’s parents represent her divided heritage. Her father didn’t want her embracing her Kree side and fighting alien wars. Having already lost a son, who can blame him? Her mother didn’t want to stop Carol from embracing both sides of her heritage, even though that was sure to leave her conflicted.

It effectively connects Carol’s superhero journey with that of her family. Those journeys involve some heavy losses, painful secrets, and destructive alcoholism. It’s something you’re not going to find with Superman, Spider-Man, Batman, or any of the X-men. It leaves Carol Danvers in an uncertain, but promising state.

It’s not yet clear how much of Stohl’s revisions will find their way into the “Captain Marvel” movie. To some extent, it helps that Carol’s origin isn’t as iconic as that of other heroes. The Marvel Cinematic Universe has already done some considerable tweaks to certain characters to make them fit the narrative. I have a feeling we’ll see plenty of that in the movie.

However things plays out on the big screen for Carol, I think her story in the comics just became a lot more interesting. I know there are some fans upset by this. I’ll even concede there are some parts of this revision I don’t care for. There was some appeal to Carol just being an ordinary human who worked her ass off to achieve what she did.

Every major revelation or retcon in a comic or movie comes at a price. You’re bound to upset some people. That’s unavoidable in a world full of such diverse tastes. However, I believe that Carol gained much more than she lost in “The Life of Captain Marvel.” I believe she’s bound to gain a whole lot more, both through her movie and through the new host of stories that can be told.

Whatever the case, I hope Brie Larson takes plenty of notes.

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Daily Sexy Musings: Early Morning Loving

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A while back, I wrote a musing about the added sexiness of late night loving. I had a lot of fun with that, contemplating all the lurid things adventurous lovers might do under the cover of darkness. When the sun goes down and people get restless, they’ll find creative ways to occupy their passions. It’s a beautiful thing.

In the preface for that musing, I mentioned that I’m not a night owl. However, I am very much a morning person. In fact, I would go so far as to say I’m kind of morning person that does his best work and his best loving at the crack of dawn. That may sound strange to those who struggle to get out of bed, but that’s how I’m wired and I make no apologies for it.

In that spirit, the following Daily Sexy Musing is a testament to the spirit of early-morning people like myself. More specifically, it’s also an exercise in how that spirit can be channeled into intimate endeavors. Enjoy!

The sun has risen. The first rays enter the window, illuminating our domain and our sleeping bodies. The light hits me and my eyes open. I sense you lying next to me. I remember how we entered the bed, tired and drained. Now, that is no longer the cast.

My body is rested.

My mind is clear.

My heart is eager to start the day.

We work so hard, every other minute of the scarce time we have in this world. We reserve so many moments for the tedious act of living, toiling and struggling in the name of sustenance. To sacrifice so many waking hours, we want and need a sliver of temporal bliss, if only to remember why the rising sun matters.

That moment is here.

That time is now.

I roll over and stir you from your slumber. I find that you’re already awake. Your eyes go from groggy to alert in an instant. You feel it too, the light of the sunrise warming our flesh. Gone is the darkness and all the exhaustion that came with it. We are recharged and reinvigorated. What are two lovers to do with so much energy?

I smile at you and you smile back. No words are necessary. We know what we want. The world is still waking up, but we’re already roused. For some, making love is an endgame for a long day. For us, it is a catalyst.

We waste no time. There’s no need to remove any clothes. We’re already naked, a proactive act from the night before. We skip the theatrics, logistics, and setups of intimacy. We’re already there. Like starting the race at the finish line, what we desire is literally lying next to us.

Under the morning sun, our naked skin touches.

Under the morning sun, our love is illuminated.

Under the morning sun, our passions are ignited.

Like a spark triggering a firestorm, a simple awakening becomes an intimate journey. Rested and rejuvenated, we are at our strongest. As such, our love is at its most powerful. The fruits of peaceful slumber taste so sweet. Lips, skin, and gasps of bliss signal the start of new day.

The sun is now risen. Our love has been made. From here on out, our day can only get better.

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Why Extremists (Of All Kinds) Seek To Destroy Sex And Love

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Whenever a tyrannical power gains influence, it’s only a matter of time before it attempts to control sex and subvert love. Whether it’s a theocracy like “The Handmaid’s Tale” or a communist dictatorship like North Korea, those in power will eventually get to it. It’s just a matter of how repressive they dare to be.

When it comes to the extremes of authoritarianism, those envisioned by George Orwell are the standards by which all are measured. Whether they’re fictional tyrannies like those in “Star Wars” or real-life autocracies like Nazi Germany, the extent of their repression is best measured by contrasting it with the one Orwell crafted in “1984.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve cited that book or Orwell’s writing, but I do so for a reason and it’s not just because it’s one of my favorite novels. The narrative Orwell envisioned took our understanding of repression and pushed it to its greatest extremes. On every level, the world of “1984” is a worst-case-scenario for anyone who values freedom.

Under the ruling party, Ingsoc, every aspect of human life is controlled, managed, or outright subverted. That includes sex, but it’s certainly not limited to it. Through institutions like the ironically-named Ministry of Love and the Junior Anti-Sex League, people aren’t just shamed or bullied into certain sexual practices. They’re tortured, brainwashed, and forced into it.

It’s a level of control that the Catholic Church, the religious right, and even conservative Muslims would find excessive. It’s also an important part of the story because so much of the events surrounding “1984” emerge from Winston’s relationship with Julia. In fact, the love they share is framed one of the biggest threats to the party.

That, in and of itself, is extremely telling of the power of sex and the love that emerges from it. Even in a world in which the repression is so complete that the party can convince people that two plus two equals five, it still has a problem dealing with sex. If Big Brother can’t manage it, then what hope does the Vatican have?

I ask that question within the context of “1984” because I’m seeing more and more issues inevitably link back to sexuality. It’s not just from religious institutions, though. They’ve made their eagerness to shape sexuality to serve their interests known for centuries. They aren’t always overt about it, but it’s not too hard to understand why they want their adherents having sex only for procreation.

For them, linking sex to making babies means all those sexual thoughts people have will result in more adherents. More adherents means more money. More money means more power and influence. It’s often cloaked in sin and morality, but this is the ultimate byproduct of their sexual morals.

However, it’s at the other end of the spectrum where a different, but powerful kind of sexual subversion is at work. The link isn’t quite as obvious as those espoused by religious institutions, but it is there in that the byproduct is the same and the underlying themes are richly reflected in “1984.”

On that end of the spectrum are those who identify as secular, but still hold extreme ideologies. This includes extreme brands of feminism, social justice ideology, and even old school communism. These are people who don’t just want to reform the current system through political and social discourse. They seek to overthrow the system and replace it with their own Utopian ideal.

Like the religious zealots they often clash with, they see the current order as oppressive. Whether it’s a religious sect facing persecution or the historical oppression against anyone who isn’t part of a historic majority, these individuals see revolution as the only way to right these wrongs. Part of that revolution involves destroying sex, albeit indirectly.

Whereas religious zealots rely on outright censorship, those on the opposite end employ a more subtle approach. They denigrate and bemoan sexual imagery, be it in video game characters or a shirt somebody happens to be wearing. They obsess over inequities and victimization, singling out egregious crimes while ignoring others that don’t fit the narrative.

Some will go so far as to claim sex as inherently oppressive. A few radical feminists have gone so far as to say that the fundamentals of sex can only ever be oppressive. In the same way some religious preachers will shame someone for looking at anyone with lust, this ideology identifies anyone who has or pursues sex as an oppressor.

That might have been absurd several decades ago, but in the current state of outrage culture where the dress Jennifer Lawrence wears to a movie premier becomes a controversy, it’s steadily creeping into the discourse. Concepts like beauty are now oppressive to those not born with beautiful bodies. Anything that may titillate or excite is seen as dangerous or damaging to the oppressed.

It’s at a point where the idea of people seeking any kind of release outside the narrative espoused by extremists is pathologized. For religious zealots, it’s sinful. For the non-religious extremists, it’s oppressive. Both see it as something that needs to be reformed or envisioned.

Chances are these individuals don’t see themselves as the authoritarians depicted in “1984.” They still see themselves as the underdogs in a “Rocky” movie, fighting to win an epic battle against an oppressive bully. Beyond being an absurd conflation of what they’re fighting for, this very approach is envisioned by Orwell and is key to empowering Ingsoc.

In the world of “1984,” the Ministry of Truth builds a similar narrative for the masses. They’re told that prior to Ingsoc taking power, the world was a terrible, oppressive place. It was only by rallying around the party and Big Brother that they were able to triumph. Moreover, it’s through the wisdom and guidance of the party that they escape this oppression.

Part of that process involves reshaping/subverting sex. In “1984,” the party isn’t just looking to control it. They seek to destroy it. The Junior Anti-Sex League even says it outright at one point.

“The sex inherent aptitude will be eradicated. Reproduction will be a one-year formality like the reclamation of a ration card. We shall get rid of the orgasm.”

Even by extreme repression standards, this seems extreme. It might even seem like something that would give zealots of all types pause. However, Orwell’s way of justifying such extremes reveal more than just a twisted ideology. He ends up exposing why sex is such a huge concern for any extreme ideology.

“When you make love you’re using up energy; and afterwards you feel happy and don’t give a damn for anything. They can’t bear you to feel like that. They want you to be bursting with energy all the time. All this marching up and down and cheering and waving flags is simply sex gone sour. If you’re happy inside yourself, why should you get excited about Big Brother?”

Read over that quote again, but replace Big Brother with the name of any religious sect or political ideology. It has the same meaning and the same implications. In order for both the zealots and the radicals to achieve their goal, they have to destroy sex. It’s the only way they can achieve their Utopian ideal.

Religious zealots can’t shame or guilt people entirely out of wanting to enjoy sex for non-procreative purposes. They can certainly make it difficult and painful for many, even to the point of serious abuse, but it never works in the long run. The drive to just want to hump for fun is too strong.

Certain brands of radical feminism have a similar issue. They can’t stop straight men from enjoying the sight of a beautiful woman. They can’t stop anyone from wanting to enjoy something different in their sex lives that they don’t like. No matter how much they’re triggered, it doesn’t turn off that powerful, instinctual drive.

In “1984,” the party actively works towards destroying that drive through technology. This is a lot scarier now because that kind of technology is already in the works. In theory, an extremely repressive religious zealot or a very regressive feminist could turn the implants in development at Neuralink into something that removes all pleasure from sex.

From there, they could redirect that energy into serving their ideology/religion. The procreative function could still be utilized, but only to the extent that it’s necessary. That may not be the ultimate goal. It’s not even the ultimate goal of Ingsoc. It’s just necessary in the grand scheme of pursuing and securing power.

As it stands, those in the religious right and other extremist circles aren’t remotely close to gaining the influence and control exercised by Big Brother in “1984.” Logistically speaking, it’s impossible for them because subverting human nature requires an understanding of it and the scientific process for achieving that understanding rarely adheres to ideology.

It still says something about their goals when the only way to achieve them in the long run requires that they destroy sex. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Orwell built a major part of “1984” around two characters falling in love and experiencing the joys of the sex act. That proved to be one of most powerful ways for them to oppose the party.

To that extent, Orwell’s understanding of sexuality is nothing short of prophetic in terms of how revolutionaries on both ends of the political spectrum view it. In an Orwellian world, sex and love aren’t just a hindrance to a revolution. They’re an outright threat.

The fact that it took repression on the level of Big Brother to confront that threat is a testament to the power of sex and love. If Big Brother couldn’t contain it, then what hope does any religion or ideology have?

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Daily Sexy Musings: Late Night Loving

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Some people are night owls. Whatever they do, be it dancing at clubs or underwater basket weaving, they just function best at night. I am not one of those people. I never have been. I’m a morning person, by nature. I do my best work bright and early, whether it’s writing a sexy story or working out.

While I tend not to function as well at night, I can appreciate the appeal it has for some people. I’ve been out late at night before. There’s something inherently exciting and even a little sexy when it’s dark, quiet, and eerie. It’s like hiding in a shadow, free from scorn and scrutiny. It allows us to be a little bolder. For some, it allows us to be a little naughty as well.

What follows is a Daily Sexy Musing dedicated all those naughty things we do under cover of night. Whether it’s sneaking over to see your lover or just sneaking in a shot of whiskey past midnight, it adds a little spice to our lives and that’s worth celebrating.

The clock strikes midnight. Then, it passes. The air gets colder. Every light gets a little dimmer, from the moon to a candle. It’s like a blanket covering every inch of land. None can escape its grasp, but I’ve no intention of running towards the light.

I got your call. Your voice is so soft, yet it booms in the late hour. While everyone else sleeps, your loins are wide awake. You want me. You need me. I’ve no intention of denying you. No matter the hour, my passions keep me alert. They guide me to you and my legs cannot carry me fast enough.

Through the darkness, your love finds me.

Through the late hours, your lust rouses me.

Through the blackest night, your presence lures me in.

For once, darkness is an ally and not an obstacle. Too many people are home resting. Too few people are out and about, creating noise and prying eyes. It’s like the entire world is letting its guard down. I don’t have to filter my feelings. From the most romantic to the most lurid, I can follow every one of them with impunity.

When we finally meet, it’s like the darkness is affirms our every whim. It surrounds us in its protective shroud, hiding us from the constraints that attempt to contain our wildest whims. In broad daylight, there’s only so much we can do to express our love. Without that daylight, we are truly free. It’s as if the night is daring us. Except, we don’t need to be dared.

In the darkness, I don’t just want to make love.

In the darkness, I don’t just want to hold you.

In the darkness, I don’t want to settle for something careful and safe.

Together, we find a place that neither the sun nor moon can hope to reach. I smile at you and you smile at me. You have the look of the most angelic angel and the most devious demon at the same time. You’re not going to be gentle with me. I intend to return the favor.

Under cover of night, we don’t just get undressed. We rip our clothes off.

Under cover of night, we don’t just make love. We ravage one another with our passions.

There is no restraint, limit, or burden. There is only us and our passion, unfiltered and raw. Under the light, it is a lurid spectacle. In the late hours of the night, it is real. Thanks to the darkness, though, it is ours.

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