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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: 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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Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Intimate Cuddling Edition

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I like to cuddle. No, I don’t consider that unmanly. No, I’m not going to apologize for it. In the same way I’m an unapologetic romantic who admits to sleeping naked, I happily say outright that I enjoy cuddling. If you think less of me because of that, then that’s your problem.

I don’t know when it became cool for men to despise something as simple as cuddling. For reasons I don’t understand, it’s one of those things that people consider girly. Saying you enjoy cuddling is the same as admitting you have shriveled balls and bad breath. Even among women, it’ll get most men awkward looks.

I think that’s one of the many gender-driven tropes that we need to crush with a 50-ton boulder and a gallon of napalm. I know from my experience with ex-girlfriends that cuddling can be fun, sexy, and even a little kinky if you do it right. I won’t get into specifics, but if any of my ex-girlfriends are reading this, I hope I conjured some pleasant memories.

I doubt I’ll convince anyone that cuddling can be both sexy and manly today, but I can couple it with my weekly does of Sexy Sunday Thoughts. If nothing else, I hope this convinces you to try a little extra cuddling with your lover the next chance you get. You may be surprised by how much you enjoy it.


“Drinking and driving is dangerous, but drinking and flirting is hilarious.”


“Having big balls is the only compliment that can also be a diagnosis.”


“Finding a lover is like finding a G-spot in that it can be pretty messy, but rewarding.”


“When you think about it, every romantic endeavor contains some element of prostitution.”


“Cuddling is just a PG version of foreplay.”


“Food critics and oral sex enthusiasts utilize similar methods in refining their craft.”


“A fashion statement is just someone silently proclaiming how far they’re willing to go to get laid.”


I hope that put everyone in a more cuddly mood. The weather is starting to change. We have at least six months of cold weather ahead of us. Now is as good a time as any to exercise your cuddling skills. It can help keep you warm, save money on heating, and enhance your sex life. What’s not to love?

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“Roughly Forbidden” A Sexy Short Story

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The following is a sexy short story I wrote about sexual taboos and the kind that may emerge in the future. Given how much I write about gender politics, this is something I contemplate more than most. It can be depressing, but it can also inspire sexy stories. This is just one of them. Enjoy!

“I like it rough.”

There was once a time when a woman could say those words with a straight face and nobody would think much of it. They might see her as kinky tastes, but she wouldn’t be ridiculed for it. However, those days were long gone and Jessica Jermaine was too young to remember them.

At 28-years-old, she lived in a very different world. Everyone was so careful. Every intimate act, sexual or otherwise, was carried out with a level of vigilance that felt so comical in principle, but no one dared laugh. One wrong move became a single act of recklessness. A single act brought accusations. Accusations brought condemnation. Not all of it was of the legal variety, but it was sufficient to keep everyone on their toes.

“I shouldn’t have to do this,” Jessica said to herself as she sat anxiously at the foot of her hotel bed, “but that’s the world we live in. I don’t like it, but it’s too late to change it.”

She sighed to herself as she waited intently, the digital clock on the hotel dresser moving painfully slow. She wasn’t supposed to feel so tense. Jessica was on an overdue vacation, one her co-workers at the law firm she worked at urged her to take. She didn’t deny that she’d been extra uptight lately, but even her closest friends didn’t realize why she felt that way.

Looking away from the clock briefly, she glanced towards the mirror next to the kitchen sink. On the surface, Jessica had no reason to be miserable. She was a beautiful young woman, blessed with the same fit, feminine frame that her mother and two older sisters had. One of her college roommates once told her she had the looks that opened more options than most. She could set higher standards than most in pursuing love, sex, and everything in between.

Jessica had done plenty of that. As soon as she began filling out bras in high school, she basically had her pick of love interests. She could just walk up to a guy, start talking about random topics, and within a half-hour, she had him wrapped around her finger with little effort. She got to lose her virginity to one of the stars on her school’s basketball team. She even got to sleep up with his best friend and teammate afterwards when she got bored of him. That destroyed their friendship, but they were the ones who got the scorn instead of her.

“You thought you could get everything you want because of your looks,” Jessica said to her reflection. “You didn’t think you’d ever have to pay the price. I can’t believe how wrong you were.”

She scolded her reflection while recalling how her reckless behavior played out. She continued that decadent streak into college, going through men the same way some people went through pairs of shoes. Over time, though, Jessica came to regret how many hearts she broke and how easy she got away with her behavior. Whenever she did something wrong or selfish in her relationship, she rarely got blamed for it. Only the men she dated got blamed.

If she cheated on them, it was their fault because they didn’t satisfy her.

If she lied to them, it was their fault because they made it so she had to lie.

If she broke up with them for bad reasons, it was their fault because they were lucky to be with someone like her in the first place.

There was literally nothing they could do to villainize her. At the end of the day, Jessica Jermaine was still a beautiful young woman who had every possible option. Moreover, she needed those options because her looks made her a target. Being the object of every straight man’s lurid desires, she needed extra leeway. It was the only way she could be safe.

That was the over-arching assumption. Nobody said it out loud, but that was how society managed beautiful women who could rouse a man’s passions just by looking at him. It wasn’t fair. Even Jessica couldn’t deny that. Things had a way of balancing themselves out, though. Given all the benefit she’d enjoyed since puberty, though, it almost felt like a punishment.

“Fuck, I’m so horny,” Jessica groaned as she looked back towards the clock. “Why does being wrong have to be this frustrating?”

She shifted her legs uncomfortably, trying to ignore the blaring signals her body kept giving her. It was one of the worst parts of her punishment, but the most fitting in the grand scheme of things. She liked rough sex. She liked it so much that it was one of the only ways she could regularly climax. Unfortunately for her, getting rough sex meant jumping through some frustrating hoops that didn’t used to be there.

As Jessica lamented those barriers, she heard a knock at the door. Almost immediately, she shot up from the bed and rushed over to answer. Her legs were already weak, her every fiber aching with desire. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

“Are you Devin?” Jessica asked through the door.

“Yes,” a deep, masculine voice replied.

“Okay, I’m opening the door now.”

Jessica took a deep breath, ready to endure the most awkward part of the elaborate ordeal she’d set up. She unlocked the door and opened it, stepping aside and covering her eyes in the process. The man she knew only as Devin entered, closing the door behind her and locking it quickly. She could hear him being extra-thorough, using both the lock and the latch to secure the door.

“Please make sure you’re looking away,” he told her. “For my safety, please put your hands over your eyes.”

“Don’t worry. I know the drill,” she replied.

That was being generous. Jessica knew the procedure a bit too well. The hardest part was already behind them, having organized a meeting through a secure chatroom and a screening service. The second hardest part was maintaining anonymity. That helped ensure her safety, but it was mostly for Devin and men like him.

As she stood in the foyer, closing her eyes and looking away, she already knew what Devin was doing. He took off his coat, hat, and sunglasses, which most men in his line of work had to wear while on business. He might have been wearing a wig, as well, for all she knew. It was all for a reason, though.

Jessica couldn’t afford to see his face and neither could he. That was the only way to ensure they both had the necessary leverage. The fact it took such an elaborate procedure said a lot about their respective circumstances.

“You can open your eyes, now. I’m ready, Jessica,” Devin said.

The young woman opened her eyes and turned around. Much to her relief, she saw only as much of the man that she needed to see.

Standing before her in her mid-level hotel was a masked man in blue jeans and a red T-shirt. He had a tall, imposing stature as well, standing over six feet tall and bearing the kind of broad shoulders that reminded her of the athletes she’d dated in high school. He might have even been a former athlete, but she didn’t dare pry into his story. The less she knew about him the better. That was just part of why he wore a mask that covered everything except his eyes, nose, and mouth.

“Thank you for meeting me tonight,” she told him. “I really need this.”

“Yeah, you made that abundantly clear in the chat room,” Devin replied. “You claimed that no women has ever needed an ‘extensive massage’ as much as you.”

“And I stand by that claim. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

“I guess we will.”

He almost sounded skeptical, but Jessica looked back at him with serious eyes. She made it clear to him that she’d meant what she said when she answered his ad. She also knew the unique jargon of his chosen industry. An ‘extensive massage’ was only half-accurate, at best. What it truly entailed often brought out too many mixed feelings, especially among other women like her.

“Everything is set,” Jessica said. “Your donation is on the table.”

“Mind if I check it, first?” Devin asked, sounding as serious as her.

“Go ahead,” she told him. “I’ll wait on the bed.”

“No. Wait right there,” he said. “If you really meant what you said, then it’ll work best if we do things my way.”

He spoke with such a stern, authoritative tone, the kind that most men were too afraid or too careful to use anymore. It was so forceful and direct. Jessica’s inner thighs moistened on the spot, her pants feeling unbearable at that point. Still, she remained patient.

She watched with anxious anticipation as the masked man walked over to the kitchen table and checked the unmarked envelope she’d laid out. Inside, it contained money and a slip of paper containing a QR code. That code was for anonymous digital currency that made up the bulk of her donation for his services. He took out his phone to check it. Once certain that it was good, he smiled to himself and turned back towards her.

“Everything looks good,” Devin told her. “I’m ready to begin.”

“So am I,” Jessica said, not hiding her desperation.

“We’ll see about that.”

Then, like a hardened prisoner breaking free of his, the imposing man stormed over to her, grabbed her by the neck, and forced her up against the wall next to the bed. Suddenly, she went from having all the leverage in the world to having none whatsoever. At that moment, she was at the mercy of a powerful, masked man.

“From here on out,” he told her, his tone deep and menacing, “I’m going to fuck you. I won’t be gentle. I won’t be careful, either. I’m going to be as reckless and rough with you as I damn well please!”

“Yes! I…want that,” Jessica gasped.

“Shut up!” Devin barked.

He slammed his fist on the wall next to her head, evoking as much fear as it did arousal. Even with his hand around her neck, she felt the arousal between her legs intensified. At last, the feeling she so desperately sought was in her grasp. A man, unafraid and unconcerned by her beauty, was going to ravage her.

Devin made those intentions clear as he crashed his lips onto hers, shoving his tongue into her mouth and pinning her against the wall with his body weight. She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe with him pressed against her and his hand around her neck. As Devin aggressively kissed her, he hungrily groped various parts of her body, giving extra attention to her breasts and even slipping his hand into her pants. He didn’t ask for permission. He didn’t seek her consent. He just did it, an act so taboo that people stopped joking about it years ago.

It was no laughing matter for Jessica, though. The way Devin kissed and touched her – hard, aggressive, and full of the toxic masculine lust she’d been taught to fear – set the tone for the devious act she was about to experience. There was no getting around it. She was about to do something that would’ve left every woman her age aghast.

Devin seemed to know that too. After kissing so hard that she struggled to breathe, he abruptly released her lips from his and leered over her with domineering intent.

“For once, this isn’t about what a pretty girl with nice tits wants,” he told her. “It’s about what I want!”

Jessica, too scared and aroused to form words, just nodded feebly under his grasp. She wasn’t used to being so trapped within a man’s grasp. She didn’t know many women who had ever been in such a position.

“You’re going to get on the bed, strip naked, and take my cock like a horny bitch in heat,” he went on. “Do you understand?”

That kind of vulgarity shocked her. In fact, Jessica was certain that saying those words in that tone to a woman would’ve gotten Devin arrested on the spot. It was jarring, but it also reminded her why she had to go to such lengths to get the experience she want.

“I…understand,” Jessica said weakly.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you. Speak up!” Devin demanded.

“I said…I understand,” she told him.

“Louder!” he commanded. “Say it like you really need it…more than anything you’ve craved.”

He squeezed her neck a little harder and pressed her up against the wall, so much so that he lifted her off the floor. It left her even more vulnerable, but it also made her even more aroused, as if Devin had somehow tapped into a well of forbidden desire.

“I understand!” Jessica shouted. “Please…do it to me.”

She wasn’t sure if that had been weak enough. She barely knew what a weak, vulnerable woman sounded like anymore. It sounded so foreign to her, but it seemed to do the trick. Devin finally loosened his hold on her.

“Good,” he said sternly. “Now, let’s get down to business!”

The imposing man backed away from the wall and shoved her over to the bed, not showing the least bit of concern for her. Already short of breath and shuddering with adrenaline, Jessica practically tripped over the mattress, falling right on top of the clean sheets she’d done so little to ruffle since she arrived.

She could still feel Devin’s shadow over her, his lecherous leer never once diverting from her. It filled her with a mix of dread and excitement, so much so that she didn’t know where one feeling ended and the other began. Jessica didn’t care there. For once, she wasn’t going to make sure a man followed the proper protocol in getting her into bed.

“What are you waiting for? Get naked!” Devin ordered.

“I…I’m doing it. I promise,” Jessica said, unable to hide her arousal.

That came off as so awkward, being aroused and frightened at the same time. It didn’t kill the mood, though. It also didn’t stop her from doing what he said.

With trembling hands, Jessica stripped out of her shirt, pants, and shoes. Devin did the same, practically tearing off his shirt before taking off his pants as though they were on fire. The only thing that stayed on was his mask, keeping his face obscure. She couldn’t know the face of the man who was about to ravage her. Nobody could.

She had only gotten down to her bra and panties by the time Devin kicked off his pants, though. That gave her a clear view of his semi-erect penis. It was even bigger than he’d described in his ad. The idea of a man – especially one tasked with being rough and reckless with a beautiful woman – shoving that into a woman on his own terms seemed outrageous. It felt like one of those old concepts that wasn’t supposed to exist anymore, like slavery or gender-based discrimination.

It was still going to happen, though. He was really going to thrust that dick into her and she actually wanted it. That thought caused her to hesitate before taking her underwear off.

“Why are you stopping? Take it all off!” Devin shouted.

Not waiting for her to comply, he stormed over to the bed and ripped off her bra on the spot. Jessica gasped upon hearing the fabric tear, her breasts tumbling out on the whims of someone other than her.

Before she could get over that shock, Devin did the same with her panties. He tore them off with ease, exposing her intimate areas to someone who hadn’t requested to see it, let alone fuck it. Instinctively, she hugged her shoulders to cover her breasts, but the imposing man didn’t let her.

“Hey! No cheating,” he said. “Here…let’s get a good look at your tits and pussy.”

Once again using his strength to full effect, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up off the floor. He then got onto the king-sized bed and laid her down in the center, making it so she was as exposed and prone as possible. When she tried to cover her breasts again, he didn’t let her, grabbing her wrists and pinning them up next to her head.

“Yeah…that’s a rare sight,” Devin said, his eyes hungrily raking over her, “a beautiful, naked woman just lying there for the taking…my taking.”

He gazed upon her as though she were the rarest of spectacles. That might not have been far from the truth. The idea of any woman submitting to a man’s most toxic lusts must have been as jarring for him as it was for her. It must have been arousing too because just gazing at her naked body rendered his dick very erect.

“Look at you,” he said as he hovered over her, trailing his hand over her breasts. “This really is making you horny, isn’t it?”

He gave her breasts a hard squeeze, causing her to gasp. However, it wasn’t one of discomfort or dread. It had the distinct tone of a horny woman…one who hadn’t been satisfied in a long time.

As if to further convince her, he slipped one hand down between her legs, showing little reservation as he rubbed the outer folds of her pussy and inserted a finger into her vagina. That intensely forbidden feeling – to insert something into a woman’s genitals without warning or consent – raised the stakes of the act that awaited her. What they were about to do was very wrong in the eyes of the world around her, but it didn’t matter. She still wanted it so bad.

“I can feel it!” Devin said, sounding almost surprised. “Your pussy is so wet and hot. This isn’t just random thrill-seeking, is it? You really like it, don’t you? You like rough sex.”

“Yes!” she said without hesitation. “I…I love rough sex.”

It must have seemed pathetic, a beautiful woman like her admitting something so deviant. He was genuinely astonished. Jessica could tell. It put her efforts to hire a male gigolo – an act not entirely illegal, but still very taboo, especially for someone like her.

“I don’t envy you,” he told her. “Having a kink like that…no wonder you had to find a guy like me to get it.”

“I know. I’m a freak!” she admitted. “I’m a beautiful woman and I like to be fucked hard. Mock me for it later. For now, just…give it to me. Please…don’t make me beg.”

That sounded even worse, but it got the point across. She was desperate, having to resort to extremes to get the sex she wanted. As a beautiful woman, she was used to getting everything she desired with minimal effort. The fact she had to go to such elaborate lengths for such a devious experience spoke volumes about her and the world she lived in.

“You’ll get what you want,” Devin said firmly, “and so will I!”

With a mix of urgency of lust, the imposing man ceased his groping and got on top of her. He forcibly pushed her legs apart, not being gentle or caring in the slightest, and aligned his rigid manhood with her pussy. Jessica kept her hands at the side of her head, demonstrating a submission that few women dared, and braced herself for Devin’s unbridled lust.

Through a simple thrust of his hips – again, with no warning, consent, or affection – he entered her. Sharp sensations of hard penetration surged through her body. It came at her like a bolt of lightning, igniting nerves and evoking feelings that were so rarely stimulated. Jessica gasped at the feeling, but was quickly silenced by an onslaught of the hardest, roughest sex she’d had in a long time.

“Yeah! That’s it, you horny bitch!” Devin said with a domineering grunt. “Take it! Take it hard…just the way you like it!”

Such vulgar words in such a crude tone offended her on some levels, but intensified the feeling on many others. Devin ravaged her like an animal freed of his chains, working his body against hers, humping her hard with every fervent motion. Jessica’s world rocked in accord with his movements, her breasts bouncing and her body contorting to the feeling of a big, hard penis pumping into her depths without a shred of reservation.

He wasn’t careful in the slightest. There was no pause in between so he could get her permission to do something. Devin did not follow the script of her many other lovers. She was not the arbiter of their sex. She didn’t initiate the act or set the tone. Her status as a beautiful young woman who always had leverage meant nothing anymore. The entire sexual dynamic that she had been taught was thrown away. Instead, she was just a sexual outlet for a horny, aggressive man.

“This is it,” she said as her world shook. “This…is what I wanted. To be fucked…ravaged. I…I love it!”

Just admitting that out loud felt like she was betraying everything she’d been taught about normal sex. Unfortunately, normal sex just didn’t do it for Jessica. She needed something deviously abnormal else to achieve the satisfaction she sought.

Devin did his part to deliver. He maintained that hard, rigorous pace of sex. His hands still gripping her thighs, he forced her legs harder apart so he could get in deeper with every thrust, stimulating the innermost recesses of her womanhood. That alone triggered a unique flood of sensations, the likes of which sent her to the brink of orgasm.

It usually didn’t happen that quickly. For Jessica – and for most girls she knew – getting that sweet sexual release took considerable effort. She really had to work at it, making heavy demands on the man as well, guiding them through various sex acts and expecting them to prioritize their pleasure before they could get theirs. A man’s orgasm was akin to just rolling down a hill where a woman’s was an ascent up a mountain.

That was not how it played out with Devin. Jessica’s love of rough sex just triggered something within her – something she didn’t know existed until she dared to defy convention, as she understood them. Deviant or not, the orgasmic bliss was still plenty potent.

“Ohhh! Coming…I’m coming!” Jessica exclaimed as the feeling approached.

“Already? Damn!” grunted Devin.

Then, in an act that heightened the defiance, Devin released his grip on her left thigh and grabbed her by the throat. With the same aggressive intent he’d shown earlier, he choked her as she crossed the threshold. It was an act of naked domination, a powerful man imposing himself on a vulnerable woman. Rather than offend her, though, it brought her intense pleasure.

“Ack!” was all she got out before the orgasm hit.

It struck her like a tidal wave, the hot release of raw pleasure. Jessica squeezed the sheets with her hands, curled her toes, and arched her back as every muscle below her waist was set ablaze with orgasmic sensations.

It was so intense that Devin actually had to slow the pace of their vigorous sex. Even through his mask, he looked genuinely impressed.

“Wow. You are so…I don’t even know the word!” he said. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but…I like it!”

Jessica barely heard him over feelings of orgasmic bliss, but she got the message and understood the sentiment. The idea of a woman enjoying such deviant sex – let alone a man who admitted to wanting it – was just so problematic. She could agonize over it later, though. There were still plenty more rough sex to enjoy.

“Guess that means I’ll just have to fuck you harder!” Devin said with a devious grin.

Still dazed by pleasure, Jessica just nodded while under the imposing man’s grip. The first orgasm usually just set the tone. From that point forward, it was just a matter of venting the pent up desire.

Devin took full advantage of that. Not waiting for her to recover from her orgasm, he resumed the heated rhythm he’d established earlier. He even got bolder, using both hands to choke her while he humped her fervently. Jessica did nothing to fight it, choking and moaning helplessly as her world kept rocking. Having completely surrendered to a man’s lustful whims, she braced herself for more sex.

He didn’t hold back, ravaging her in every way he could and not once asking whether he had her permission. He decided their positions. He chose how hard and how fast they fucked. Jessica was just along for the ride. He turned her over, laid her flat on her stomach, and took her from behind. He then pulled her up onto all fours, stood up on the bed, and pumped his cock into her while slapping her butt repeatedly. It stung, sending surges of pain and degradation. Jessica still loved it, though. In fact, she courage it.

“Harder!” she cried out. “Do it harder!”

He gladly obliged, slapping her so hard she could feel marks forming on her naked skin. She’d probably have to hide them for a while. If any of her friends saw them, they would freak out. It was worth it, though…so incredibly worth it.

In that position, Jessica had another orgasm. Again, it came with such ease, the reckless intensity of their sex providing abundant stimulation. Devin didn’t slow down, though. Even as she came, he kept fucking her in a selfish pursuit of his own pleasure.

He must have realized how rare it was, a man being allowed to ravage a beautiful woman like her. He really drew it out, as though he didn’t want it to end too quickly. Jessica couldn’t blame him. She had no idea how many other girls like her there were, beautiful young woman who enjoyed rough sex and getting dominated by a man. Based on everything she’d been taught about normal sex, it couldn’t have been many.

Devin made good use of the opportunity and the time for which she’d paid him. He fucked her long and hard, going at it from several more positions that did plenty to ruffle the sheets on the bed. She climaxed several more times as well. Each time she did, he choked or spanked her a little harder. It helped her catch up on all the satisfying sex she hadn’t had, despite all the eager lovers she’d entertained. It also helped him eventually get to his own special peak.

“I’m getting…so close,” he grunted. “Can’t hold it…much longer!”

There was real strain in his voice. Jessica could tell he didn’t want it to end, but his stamina – physical and sexual – was near its limits. She had already had more than her share of orgasms. Devin still craved his release. For that final moment, though, he managed one last act of decadence.

“On your back!” Devin ordered. “I’m going to…come on your…face.”

“Mmm…I’m ready,” Jessica told him.

It shouldn’t have been so appealing. A man climaxing on a woman’s face was supposed to be a relic of a bygone era where men oppressed women regularly. She was supposed to be repulsed. Instead, she licked her lips as though she were about to eat her favorite treat.

Now on her back once more, she laid in the center of the bed as Devin delivered the last round of rough sex. He pumped his cock into her extra hard, the hard smacking sound of his pelvis smacking into hers echoing throughout the room. She could see through his mask the strain of the approaching pleasure, as though it were a dam ready to burst.

Finally, after the necessary number of thrusts, she sensed Devin cross the threshold. With more urgency than she had ever seen in a man, he withdrew his cock from her pussy, positioned himself on top of her, and aimed it at her face. Then, after he gave it a few more strokes, he ejaculated with a force that defied Jessica’s knowledge of male biology.

“Ohhh fuck!” he exclaimed.

Like pent up volcano, thick streams of seminal fluid erupted from the imposing man’s dick. It splattered onto her face in messy globs, dripping down her nose, face, and neck. Some even ended up on her breasts. He must have really held back to release that much cum. It must have been really satisfying too because she had never heard a man sound that content from an orgasm.

“So much cum,” she mused at it covered her face. “Men…they still amaze me, but not as much as women.”

An extended moment of awkwardness followed. Devin remained over her, still rubbing his cock until every last drop of fluid was extracted. He continued gasping for air, his manly flesh glistening with sweat after so much exertion. Jessica had worked up a sweat with men before, but not like that. It was quite a sight.

As they caught their breath, the imposing man rolled off to her side and laid next to her for a brief moment. She barely moved, not even attempting to wipe the streaks of manly juices off her face and breasts. Every muscle below her waist was still burning from rough sex and multiple orgasms. She was also fairly certain she had a mark the shape of his hand on her butt. Had Jessica not been so drained and content, she would’ve laughed.

She briefly glanced over towards Devin, who looked every bit as satisfied. She was usually pretty talkative after sex, but had little to say. She was still tempted to reach over and embrace him, offering her sincere gratitude for giving her the rough sex she so sorely needed. However, she never got the chance.

“We’re done,” Devin said flatly.

In the blink of an eye, the imposing man that had fucked her so hard reverted back to the overly-careful demeanor that she’d seen in so many others. He couldn’t get off the bed fast enough. He didn’t even make eye-contact with her as he got dressed, making sure to keep his mask on every step of the way.

Jessica wanted to feel insulted after what they just did, but she couldn’t blame him for being so distant. She knew what they had just done. She knew what happened to men like him if anyone even accused him of doing it.

“Thank you,” she told him, offering what gratitude she could.

“No need for thanks,” he replied, still not looking away as he put on his shoes.

“I still mean it.”

“So do I,” Devin replied. “You said it yourself. You know the drill. This is the only way people like us can do this sort of thing.”

“People like us?” she questioned.

“You don’t need to play dumb. You wouldn’t have known how to reach me if you were,” he said as he retrieved his money and made his way to the door. “You and me…we’re at the mercy of what we’re supposed to want instead of what we actually want. We live in a world where a man can’t fuck a woman the way I just fucked you and a woman can’t admit she likes it. That’s why it has to be this way…hidden, secret, and deviant.”

With those ominous words, he exited the room, leaving her naked on the bed. He almost seemed scared. That was pretty remarkable, given his stature and the intensity with which he’d just fucked her. It didn’t make sense that a woman like her had to solicit the services of a man like him to get the satisfaction she craved, but there was no way around it. That was just the way it was.

“I still like it rough,” Jessica said to herself. “If that makes me a deviant in the eyes of everyone else in this crazy world…so be it.”

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Daily Sexy Musings: Well-Dressed Men

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You can tell a lot about a man by how he dresses. Say what you will about someone who wears fancy clothes and buys overpriced hair care products. A man who puts genuine effort into how they look says they value the image they present. It’s not always out of pure vanity. When done right, a well-dressed man can have genuine appeal, including the sexy kind.

I can safely say that I feel genuinely sexy as a man when I put on one of my suits. It’s not just that the suit costs more than discount T-shirts from Wal-Mart. It gives me a sense of confidence and worth. I worked on myself and a nice suit helps put it all on display. The following Daily Sexy Musing is my way of giving that unique feeling some substance to go with the style. Enjoy!

I stand in front of the mirror, wearing a freshly-ironed shirt, a perfectly-tailored pair of slacks, and an imported silk tie that was grossly overpriced. I don’t mind, though. I put it on with pride, smiling to myself as I smooth it out and fix every wrinkle. Then, I put on my blazer and button it up.

It marks the end of a masculine metamorphosis. I’m no longer the man who groaned restlessly as he got out of bed. Now, I’m a man ready to take on the world and look good doing it. Everything about me feels more refined. My poise, my demeanor, and my attitude are heightened. There’s nothing I can’t achieve.

I turn around and see you standing in the door. You look at me the same way you look at a beautiful sunset. You’ve seen me at my best and at my worst. You’ve seen me naked and wearing clothes so cheap they barely qualify as rags. However, in that moment, I become something greater in your eyes.

I am a man of confidence, determined and driven.

I am a man of worth, having strived and earned.

I am a man of grit, willing to work and achieve.

You walk over to me. You place your arms around my neck. You feel the fancy fabrics now covering my body. It may only be the shell, but it makes everything within shine brighter. I feel your admiration in every glance. As I take in your touch, I sense more than admiration.

In these clothes, overpriced they may be, you don’t just see the man I am. You see the man I strive to be. Through what I ware, I say to you that I want to be more. I seek to be a man that others respect. More importantly, I seek to be a man you desire. With every admiring glance, I know I’m succeeding.

I can tell you want me.

I can tell you love me.

I can tell you feel my love.

As I hold you, the fancy fabrics cling to my skin. From a rough-cut diamond to a polished gem, I am the best man I can be for you. It’s enough to make you want to tear my suit off and show why you’re the best lover a man could hope for. I know you want to. I feel it as your hands tremble.

I share your want, but I cannot forget. There is work to be done. I let you admire me as long as you need to. I then whisper into your ear a tantalizing preview of what awaits us tonight. Your smile widens and your face blushes. I’ve just given us both something to anticipate.

I put this suit on with goals in mind and determination in heart. You give me a reason to wear it with pride and honor. Now, I look forward to the moment when you help me take it off.

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Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Hot Tea Edition

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Growing up, I didn’t care for tea. I didn’t care for coffee, either. As a kid, I honestly didn’t see the appeal of either. Then, I became an adult and learned very quickly that the benefits of these drinks beat the hell out of soda and fruit juice.

I grew to love coffee first, but that was mostly out of necessity. I needed something to keep me going so I could write sexy stories. Shortly after that, though, I developed a taste for tea. However, instead of keeping me going, tea helped slow things down. It helped me relax and decompress after a long day. It also had some sexy undertones.

For that, I credit my ex-girlfriend. I’ve talked about her before, but she was the first to show me the benefits of tea. In college, that’s how she would relax and when she got relaxed, she got more affectionate. Naturally, I tried it too and it had the same effect. Since then, tea has had a special place in my stomach and my heart.

Even after me and my girlfriend broke up, I came to enjoy a hot cup of tea at the end of the day. It helps my body and my mind relax, which has helped me craft more sexy short stories, including one inspired by tea. As such, this edition of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts is dedicated to the relaxing benefits of tea and all those who appreciate it. Enjoy!


“If making love is like a touchdown, then afterglow is successful two-point conversion.”


“Good foreplay takes talent, but true mastery comes with practice.”


“Successful flirting is not that different from a successful job interview.”


“Pity sex is like cold pizza in that it’s not ideal, but still gets the job done.”


“A lover who still talks dirty is like a healthy chocolate bar that still tastes good.”


“Every kinky sex act has a basis in horniness, boredom, and alcohol.”


“Make-up sex is the romantic equivalent of duct tape.”


I hope that both relaxed and/or excited you. I know tea isn’t considered a very sexy drink, but I can attest that it has some very sexy effects in the right situation. As the weather gets colder and we have more reasons to cuddle, I strongly recommend that everyone take some time to enjoy it. After all, it’s much easier to be sexy when you’re nice and relaxed.

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“After The Cure” A Sexy Short Story

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The following is a sexy short story I wrote while some close family members of mine dealt with major medical issues. It helped remind me just how invaluable doctors can be in keeping us healthy and easing the suffering of others. That talent gives them a unique sex appeal, which I attempt to celebrate in this story. Enjoy!

“Another day, another bunch of lives saved…and lost,” said a restless Dr. Albert Galen.

It was a common refrain for the end of Dr. Galen’s day. It started bright and early in the oncology wing at the Walen Carter Hospital, which he’d worked at for nearly ten years. Throughout the course of his day, he met with patients who’d just gotten the worst news anyone could get about their health. They had cancer.

Regardless of how treatable it was, the news always hit hard and he had to be the one to break it down. Across from his desk, which was often cluttered with files and paperwork, there was a chair where most of his patients sat. More often than not, they were already scared, devastated, and in tears. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to break down crying while he gave them important medical information. That happened at least three times over the past week.

Dr. Galen had to be numb to all that, hardening his soul to an extent that made him feel like a machine spouting medical jargon rather than a doctor. He got into medicine for the same reason most doctors did. He wanted to heal people. He remembered how eager and energetic he’d been when he saw his first patient. Now, he questioned whether he could ever feel that kind of energy again.

The last two days gave him plenty of reasons to doubt that. On his desk was a file of a 42-year-old woman who’d just died because of lung cancer that should’ve been treatable. Less than three hours ago, he had to watch the woman’s husband and children break down crying after she passed. His nurses tried to console them, but Dr. Galen knew there was only so much healing they could offer.

“Life isn’t fair and neither is medicine,” he said solemnly as he closed the woman’s file.

Those were the exact words of his predecessor, Dr. James, who’d retired several years early from oncology. Dr. Galen hadn’t noticed at the time, but there was a distant emptiness in his eyes. He later suspected that Dr. James retired early because he’d seen one too many heartbreaking scenes. He had treated and cured countless patients, but the ones he lost always stung the worst. Looking back on it, he probably should’ve seen that as a warning.

“There’s fair, there’s unfair, and then there’s this,” the middle-aged man said with a sigh. “Cancer…the ultimate injustice.”

Checking his watch, he saw that it was late. He should’ve gone home an hour ago, but Dr. James preferred to keep busy. It was his way of coping with especially unfair days. After watching cancer take the life of a woman who’d attended her youngest son’s first little league game three weeks ago, he needed to stay extra busy. That woman had been especially unlucky, even by medical standards. Cases like that took cancer’s unfairness to an extreme.

Dr. Galen knew that doctors couldn’t get too personally attached with patients. That was supposed to mitigate the impact whenever something went wrong, which happened fairly often with cancer. Even for the best doctors, though, it took a toll.

“The doctors that save the most lives usually have the most hardened souls,” Dr. Galen muttered, “the second greatest injustice.”

That was something his old teacher in medical school told him when he said he wanted to specialize in oncology. He didn’t get the subtext at the time, but with each dead patient, it felt like less a warning and more a prophecy…one that kept fulfilling itself.

Still not inclined to go home, Dr. Galen sat back in his desk and opened up the drawer where he kept a bottle of scotch. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to have it in the oncology wing, but after seeing a seven-year-old boy cry over the body of his dead mother, he sensed the Dean of Medicine would give him a pass.

“Guess my soul isn’t hard enough yet,” he said, “but I’m almost there.”

In the bottle, Dr. Galen saw the reflection of a middle-aged man who looked at least eight-years older than he should have. He wasn’t even 50 and his hair was already graying. It undercut how hard he’d worked to take care of himself after his father died at such a young age. That work didn’t seem to matter, though. Even when he wasn’t the one with cancer, it still found a way to make him sick.

Groaning to himself, the middle-aged man opened the bottle and retrieved a glass from the other drawer. As he sifted through more messy folders, there was a knock at his door.

“Dr. Galen?” said a feminine voice. “Do you have a minute?”

Looking up from his desk, Dr. Galen was somewhat surprised to see an attractive young woman standing in his doorway. If the low cut mini-skirt, halter top, and cheap flip-flips were any indication, she wasn’t a nurse.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said, setting aside the scotch bottle and putting on his professional demeanor again. “Can I help you, ma’am? Just so you know, I don’t usually take appointments this late at night.”

“That’s okay. I’m not a patient,” the woman said. “My name is Anna. My mother is Lydia Strom. You treated her for non-small-cell lung carcinoma last month.”

Dr. Galen needed a minute to recall that name, partly due to the late hour of the night and the myriad of patients he treated. It was somewhat striking that someone remembered such a specific type of cancer, which helped him recall a particular case. In that same case, though, he didn’t recall the patient’s daughter wearing such provocative attire to a hospital.

“Lydia Strom…I remember treating her,” Dr. Galen said. “She’s the woman who always had to have that old jade necklace of hers nearby, right?”

“Yep! That’s her,” Anna said with a smile.

“Is she okay?” he asked. “If I recall, we caught it early and she responded well to chemotherapy.”

“You did. As far as I know, she’s completely cured and as healthy as she’s ever been. She even started taking tennis lessons with my dad.”

“That’s a healthy activity. Is everything else okay? Did she see get that counseling I recommended?”

“Calm down, Doctor. I’m not here because something’s wrong,” the young woman told him. “I’m here because I wanted to thank you personally. When someone saves your mother from cancer, a thank-you and a gift card just doesn’t cut it.”

Dr. Galen was taken aback, but in a good way. It wasn’t that unusual for a patient or their family members to offer extra gratitude after their treatment. After the day he’d endured, though, he needed it.

“Oh, well…you’re very welcome, I suppose,” he said, still trying to maintain his professional demeanor. “I’m not the only one you should thank, though. My nurses, my staff, and even my assistants played a part.”

“I already thanked them,” Anna said. “They all told me the same thing. You’re the one who does the heavy lifting around here. You make all the hard calls. You shoulder the good news and the bad. Some even wonder how you do it.”

“It comes with the degree and the stethoscope, especially my chosen field.”

“You say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I know it is,” he admitted, “although, if I’m being honest, my staff thinks I handle things better than I actually do.”

“In their defense, you’re very convincing. You had to keep your cool while my father, my brother, and little sister lost it when you gave your diagnosis. We were all so scared. For a while, I actually had to think about my mother dying…contemplating life without her.”

Her words took on an emotional undertone. Dr. Galen had heard it many times before, but the way Anna said it made it seem meaningful. It was enough to make him temper his doctor-like demeanor that he always maintained while at the hospital.

Anna took a moment to regain her composure. She then entered his office, closing the door behind them. Walking up to his desk, her eyes glistening with tears of sincerity, she leaned over his desk. In doing so, Dr. Galen noticed that the halter top she wore was a bit undersized.

“I’ve never been good at confronting terrible things,” she went on. “During my mom’s treatment, I basically hid in the corner and kept my head down, not wanting to look at it or think about it. That’s probably why you don’t remember me.”

“That, and I don’t recall you wearing such noticeable attire,” Dr. Galen said, trying hard not to stare at the young woman’s cleavage.

“That’s because I only dress this way when I’ve got a damn good reason. Not long ago, that usually involved getting free drinks at the bar near my college dorm. Now, my priorities are different.”

There was a very seductive subtext to her words. Anna leaned over a bit more, as if to direct his gaze towards her breasts. Having eschewed professionalism, Dr. Galen let himself look. In doing so, he surmised that the young woman wasn’t wearing a bra. From there, the doctor in him diagnosed her intent.

“My world changed when I found out my mom had cancer,” Anna continued. “It changed again when you told her she was cured.”

“I’m just doing what doctors do,” he said, his eyes alternating between her breasts and face.

“It’s one thing to treat a sore throat. It’s another to treat cancer. That’s why when you save a life, it matters a little more. It also deserves special gratitude.”

She almost seemed determined, as though it was her duty to bring balance to a horribly unfair universe. Having just lamented about the gross injustices wrought by cancer, her demeanor heightened Dr. Galen’s interest almost as much as her cleavage.

With his eyes now locked on her, the attractive young woman crawled up onto his oversized desk, not at all minding the mess of files and paperwork. Upon reaching the center, she shifted into an upright position, narrowed her gaze on him, and stripped off the undersized halter top. She even made a spectacle of it, doing it slowly and sensually so that her well-shaped breasts came tumbling out in just the right way. Suddenly, her lack of a bra made sense.

“Wow,” the middle-aged man said distantly.

“Just the symptom I was hoping for,” Anna said playfully.

Four years of medical school, three years of residency, and over a decade of experience in a well-funded private hospital had not given him the vocabulary he needed for that moment. He’d seen plenty of naked bodies of varying states of health. The sight of female breasts shouldn’t have had such an impact, but the way Anna presented them defied medical expertise.

“For the man who saved my mother, though,” she said, “I’d like to go the extra mile!”

That came off as both ambitious and sexy. Still atop a pile of paperwork, the attractive young woman unzipped the back of her mini-skirt and took it off, revealing an overly revealing G-string thong. It looked like something a woman would wear to a strip club rather than a hospital. After tossing the skirt aside, kicking her flip-flops off in the process, Anna made her intentions abundantly clear.

“Please…let me thank you, Dr. Galen,” she said intently, “not with words, cards, or hugs. I want to give you something more…something fitting for a man who fights the hardest battles in medicine.”

“I’d say that’s not necessary,” Dr. Galen said, “but I doubt that would dissuade you.”

“Another accurate diagnosis,” Anna laughed. “Battles leave scars. My dad’s an ex-marine so I know the signs. Plus, after finding out from your nurses that you’re single and only married to your work…well, let’s just say I don’t mind being a mistress for one night.”

Like a sexy predator, she crawled across the desk and grabbed him by his tie. She then pulled him into a deep, sensuous kiss…one that included lips, tongue, and everything in between. Dr. Galen offered no resistance. If anything, he embraced it and not just because he hadn’t had time for love, relationships, or sex.

His soul had been so hardened, agonizing over the patients he lost rather than celebrating the patients he saved. In his never-ending effort to remain professional, as a doctor, he worked so hard to temper his passions. Over the years, he’d become way too good at it. In an instant, though, Anna removed those emotional restraints.

“Stand up,” the beautiful woman said, still clutching her tie. “Let someone else treat you, for once.”

Not questioning her credentials, Dr. Galen did as she asked, rising up from his chair so the stood at the edge of his desk. Almost immediate, Anna undid his pants, pulling pushing them down along with his underwear to free his growing manhood. Just seeing her breasts earlier got his blood flowing in the right direction. Kissing her had ignited his arousal and Anna seemed intent on accelerating it.

“Wow. Looks like you need extra treatment,” Anna teased.

“You have no idea,” Dr. Galen said under his breath.

Licking her lips, the young woman eagerly engulfed his cock with her soft lips. Then, with an intensity and passion he rarely saw in a cancer ward, Anna went to work giving him oral sex. Like a skilled surgeon performing a delicate operation, she sucked and licked along the length of his member.

That hot, moist feeling around his manly flesh was intoxicating, sending shivers of sharp sensation through his body. His knees nearly buckled, forcing him to hold onto her head where he ran his fingers through her long, silky hair. The stern poise that doctors were supposed to maintain further faltered, making way for more intense feelings.

“Anna…so thorough,” he gasped, the doctor in him still making observations. “That feels…so good.”

The young woman looked up at him with those seductive eyes as she sucked his dick. In them, he saw plenty of lust, but he saw just as much gratitude. She was really serious about thanking him. She wasn’t just looking at an accomplished doctor who hadn’t lost all his hair yet. She was looking at the man who saved her mother. That proved to be a powerful motivator.

The intensity of her oral sex escalated. She took in as much of his length as her gag reflex allowed, which proved quite impressive. She used her tongue along with her lips, grasping the base with both hands and working to maximize his arousal. It didn’t take long for him to reach that state. Between her blowjob skills and him not having had sex in a while, Dr. Galen soon felt the burning need to vent his pent up desires.

Anna must have sensed that need because she ceased her oral teasing, but kept stroking his cock with the utmost care. Already gasping for air, streaks of saliva dripping down her face, she bore the expression of a woman who had just as much desire.

“Mmm…nice and hard,” Anna said to him.

“It’s been a while,” Dr. Galen said sheepishly.

“That ends now!” the attractive woman said intently.

Without hesitation, she adjusted her body so that she could remove her revealing thong. She even made it a point to toss it to him, as if to give him a keep-sake. Dr. Galen caught it instinctively, which allowed him to feel how hot and moist they were. It showed just how aroused she was, the thought of giving herself to the man who saved her mother providing the ultimate turn-on.

“Take me, Dr. Galen,” Anna urged him, eagerly presenting him with her fully naked body. “Do whatever you need to do…as hard as you need to do it.”

“I assure you, Anna,” Dr. Galen told her as he loosed his tie, “what I need from you is not that extensive.”

“So try anyways,” she told him.

That came off as a diagnosis, of sorts…as though she could see his hardened soul and all the cracks that had emerged. He spent so much time treating others, but had ignored treating himself for his own ailments. Now, here she was, offering him the perfect medicine in the form of her sex.

Dr. Galen couldn’t get undressed fast enough. After undoing his tie, he threw off his white coat and undid his dress shirt. Anna even helped him, crawling over to the ledge of his desk and kissing him hard on the lips, her gratitude and affection showing with every gesture. She prioritized his treatment and he finally decided to do the same.

As soon as he got the rest of his clothes off, he eagerly took Anna by the hips and pulled her forward so that she was off his desk. Their lips never parted, his tongue wrestling with hers as he got his first taste of her naked skin. Then, with a recklessness not typical for an experienced doctor, he cleared an area on his desk by tossing aside the stacks of paper and assorted clutter, creating a nice space of clear mahogany with which to work.

Dr. Galen wasted no time in beginning the treatment, turning the young woman around and bending her over his desk to that those voluptuous breasts of hers pressed up against the wood. It also gave him his first solid look at her heart-shaped ass, which she wasn’t afraid to shake a little, as if he needed more incentive.

“I’m ready, Dr. Galen,” Anna said. “Go on. Treat yourself as much as I want to treat you.”

The middle-aged man didn’t say a word. Feeling a surge of energy that most men his age didn’t feel after midnight, he grabbed hold of the young woman’s hips and guided his throbbing member towards her wet crevice. His desires in overdrive, he thrust forward and entered her hot depths.

“Ohhh, Dr. Galen!” she moaned.

He responded only with a grunt. For a brief moment, the experienced doctor savored the feeling of her womanly flesh surrounding his rigid cock. He could feel her inner muscles tighten, as if to embrace him with her gracious affections. It gave greater meaning to the basic pleasures that followed, as well as greater incentive.

Flushed with vigor he hadn’t felt since med school, Dr. Galen began moving his hips, working his manhood inside Anna’s depths. For once, he wasn’t the overly careful doctor. Instead, he was the patient getting the treatment he needed. The treatment just happened to be the sex of a beautiful, grateful young woman.

“That’s it! That’s it, Doctor!” Anna gasped, matching his energy every step of the way. “Your treatment…so good.”

Those passionate cries spoke volumes for the potency of such treatment. It only got more potent as he stepped up the pace.

Grunting and gasping with greater intensity, Dr. Galen fervently pumped his cock into the young woman’s depths, rocking her body and his desk. She eagerly shifted with every thrust, elevating her right leg and raking her nails down the polished wood. He didn’t care if she left scratches. He didn’t even care when she knocked his phone off the table. Nothing mattered at the moment besides embracing the treatment he so sorely needed.

At one point, Anna rose up and guided one of his hands to her swaying breasts. The feeling of her fleshy mound in his hand added greater intimacy to their act. The way she placed her hand over his, urging her to caress her body and fill her depths, demonstrated more than the whims of a horny young woman. They revealed a sincerity behind the desire, a genuine effort to offer more than just a simple thank-you. Having received plenty of hugs and cards from cured patients, Dr. Galen welcomed that effort.

Whether by gratitude or raw lust, their bodies shifted over the course of their sex. Anna kept guiding his hands over her naked body, allowing him to feel almost every counter of her feminine figure. Dr. Galen found that she enjoyed having her nipples pinched. She also enjoyed having her buttocks rubbed a certain way. It showed in the way she moaned and gasped through each act.

“Anna,” he said in a deep tone as he rubbed her nipples, “you’re welcome…so very welcome.”

“Ooh thank you, Dr. Galen!” she said, mirroring his sentiment. “Thank you so much!”

His keen medical knowledge of the human body’s tender spots really paid off. He was fairly certain she climaxed at least once, although even his medical expertise only went so far. She didn’t seem to make that priority, though. Orgasms were a bonus rather than a goal. She remained intent on treating him.

In the spirit of maximizing that treatment, he repositioned her body in preparation for his own peak. He briefly withdrew from her depths, picked up her off the floor, and set her down on his desk so that she faced him. Her legs remained wide open, welcoming him back into her depths with ease. As he grabbed her by the thighs and resumed their sex, making an extra push towards a much-needed release, she threw her arms around his neck and gazed longingly into his eyes.

“You need this. You want this. I can feel it,” Anna said intently. “Please, Dr. Galen…let me give it to you!”

Dazed and desperate for that healing bliss, he kissed her deeply and wrapped his arms around her as he made his way to the brink. He embraced her as desperately as she’d embraced him, wanting to receive the powerful feeling she sought to convey. Through that shared effort – her offering and him taking it – Dr. Galen achieved a peak that was nothing short of a miracle cure.

“Ohhh Anna!” he exclaimed.

It was like diving into a pool of healing, feeling that powerful surge of pleasure and fulfillment. His hold on her tightened, his knees buckled, and his member throbbed inside her in conjunction with his release. Hot waves bliss rippled through his body, supplemented by Anna’s tender touch and affectionate embrace. In that moment, he felt his soul soften for the first time in years.

While locked in each other’s arms, her legs still secure around his waist, Dr. Galen just clung to her as she supported him in his blissful state. Her gracious gaze and warm smile never faded. She even caressed the side of his unshaven face, not caring about the gray hairs. It was like she had taken his hand and guided him out of a dark corner that he’d stayed in for too long. Instead of lamenting on the patients he lost, he celebrated the ones he’d saved.

“Anna…you were right,” Dr. Galen said, still breathless from his peak. “I did need that…more than you know.”

“Don’t you dare thank me, Doctor,” Anna teased, still caressing his face. “That’s what I’m doing.”

“Well, I think you’ve made the extent of your gratitude quite clear.”

“Good!” she said. “That means I can skip a few steps from here on out.”

“What do you mean?” he asked curiously.

“I mean…I’m still not done thanking you.”

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The following is a review I wrote for PopMatters for “What If? Punisher #1.” Enjoy!

‘What If? Punisher #1’ Toys With Spider-Man’s Concept Of Power And Responsibility

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October 11, 2018 · 5:28 pm