Tag Archives: Jack Fisher Books

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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Daily Sexy Musings: Hot and Sweaty

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When it comes to sex appeal, sweat is one of those things that can either enhance or undermine it. As someone who works out regularly, I’m very familiar with both. I can personally attest to the differences.

After a good workout, sweat gives your sex appeal an extra glow. After a long round of heavy toil, it just makes you disheveled and smelly. There may very well be a fundamental difference a chemical and psychological level, one that informs our libido that this type of sweat is conducive to passionate lovemaking. I don’t know for sure, but this daily sexy musing focuses on the sexier, steamier side of sweat. Enjoy!

I stand before you, dripping with sweat and utterly disheveled. My clothes are dirty, my hair is a mess, and my skin feels wet and clammy. It’s like nature dumped a bucket of salty water over me, washing away the aesthetics of civilization.

As I look at you, I reveal my least organized self. I appear as I would in nature, my primal self with every flaw and cut exposed in full. I cannot hide the odor. I cannot conceal the dirt and grime.

My breathing is ragged.

My muscles burn from strain and strife.

My skin glistens from a thick layer of sweat.

I feel the dirt cling to me, as if to keep me from brushing it away in your presence. It’s like the world won’t let me escape your scrutiny. My beauty and ugliness are there for you to take in. Does it offend you? Does it affect our love?

Then, I see you smile. Like a beam of light piercing the clouds, it gives me new energy. You walk over and embrace me, not all dissuaded by the sweat. If anything, it acts as a catalyst. Suddenly, our love burns even brighter.

You kiss me.

You touch me.

You let my sweat graze your flesh.

In that moment, you join me in my primal state. Every touch becomes raw, unfiltered, and untamed. There’s no formality or etiquette. There’s only a strong, burning desire to mix your sweat with mine. The rigor isn’t done. It’s only beginning.

My dirty clothes come off. Your clean clothes follow. They end up in the same pile, but that doesn’t bother us. The sweat and grime remain on my sticky skin, but that doesn’t bother us. It only energizes us. I want you to feel my dirty flesh. You want to feel it, too. The only thing stopping us is time and space.

We don’t bother with beds or furniture. Any hard surface will do. Like a catalyst, the sweat helps our skin glide together. It’s so smooth, every sinew effortlessly gliding together. Before long, your sweat mixes with mine.

From our love, we share in a new rigor.

From that rigor, we create a new heat.

From that heat, our passions taking form and substance.

It started with sweat. It ended with even more. Together, we’re both so disheveled. From the heat and the rigor, we literally forged our love. Dirty and exhausted, we get the job done.

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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

Jack’s Quick Pick Comic: What If? Punisher #1

Every Wednesday, a new batch of comics comes out and for comic fans like me, it’s the biggest highlight of the week that doesn’t involve ice cream and whiskey. Within that batch of comics, it’s hard find the gems that really stand out. That’s why every week, I pick out a comic that I feel warrants extra praise.

This week, my quick pick is “What If? Punisher #1.” Now, this may seem like an odd selection. In fact, this comic is very much an anomaly. There was once a time where Marvel had an ongoing “What If?” series that basically offered alternate history takes on iconic characters and stories.

Personally, I have mixed feelings about how these stories are handled. For the most part, they’re hit or miss. They’re either really good or really bad. Rarely, if ever, are they fleshed out stories.

What If? Punisher #1” finds a way to stand out because it does more than speculate on what would happen to Spider-Man if he chose a slightly different path. It actually explores the entire premise that with great power comes great responsibility. It even makes the case that the mainline Spider-Man in the long-running “Amazing Spider-Man” series is wholly irresponsible in his methods.

This is an idea that I’ve actually explored before. I once made the argument that Spider-Man is the most inept hero of all time. I got a lot of hate for that piece, mostly by long-time Spider-Man fans. I don’t blame them for a second. However, this comic actually takes some of the concepts I discussed and puts them into a cohesive story.

It doesn’t radically reinvent Peter Parker or Spider-Man. It also doesn’t radically alter his origin. He still fails to stop a burglar that goes onto murder his Uncle Ben. From that tragedy, he learns that critical lesson about power and responsibility. The only difference in this timeline is that great responsibility means killing his enemies, just like the Punisher.

It’s a line that the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man doesn’t dare cross most of the time. In nearly every famous iteration of Spider-Man, Peter makes clear that he does not kill. However, “What If? Punisher #1” makes the case that not only is this irresponsible. It actually played a part in hurting his loved ones.

How that happens and how it makes this case is something I won’t spoil. Since this is a “What If?” comic, though, there’s not room to dig deeper. There are more than a few gaps and oversights, but most of that is due to logistics rather than merit. At the very least, this comic asks some pretty damning questions about how Spider-Man approaches power and responsibility.

Even though most “What If?” comics are quickly forgotten and have no impact on the actual canon, this issue is worthy of my pick because the concept is so intriguing. It’s too brief and very much incomplete, but the ideas it presents are pretty remarkable. Not all Spider-Man fans will like it, but it’ll definitely get them thinking.

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Daily Sexy Musings: Tempting And Teasing

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There are people who genuinely like to tease or be teased. I know some of these people. There’s nothing wrong with them. They enjoy playing sexy games. They find it challenging and engaging. To them, jumping through all those hoops makes the end result more worthwhile. Whether it takes the form of heated lovemaking or just a good fuck, it gives meaning to their efforts.

Personally, I don’t care much for that level of teasing. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate it to some extent, but I’ve always been more overt when it comes to my personal life. That works for me. Even so, I’ve seen elaborate teasing work just as well for others. Some have been married for years and still act like horny teenagers. This latest Daily Sexy Musing is a celebration for them. Enjoy!

I sneak my hand around your waist. I hold you a little closer. Through a simple twitch of my fingers, I make clear what I desire. My clothes are already itchy. My pants are already tight. I’m undressing you with my eyes, but I’d rather undress you literally.

Then, you look at me. You just smile with that loving, yet naughty glint in your eye. You don’t need me to say it out loud. You already know. With a simple twitch of your lips, I know you want it too. I’m ready. You’re ready. Why are we still fully clothes?

However, you don’t give the word. You don’t send those clear signals I know so well. Instead, you divert your gaze. I can tell you’re still smiling. I know you still want it. You’re just not making it easy on me. You’re making me work for it. Already, I know what this is.

You’re teasing me.

You’re tempting me.

You’re daring me to prove how much I want you.

My pants get tighter. My clothes get itchier. I long to feel your naked skin against mine. I’m willing to work for it. I know you’re worth it. Your love, your heart, and your sex are just so worth it. You want to tempt me? Go right ahead. Intensify my desire at your own risk.

I make my next move. I lean in and kiss your neck. I’m subtle and gentle. I let you know I’m willing to be patient. I can tempt you as much as you tempt me. Can you handle it? Do you really want to play that game? I love you too much and know you too well. As of now, the game is on.

I keep kissing you. I trail my fingers around your waist, down your face, and over your every sinew. I know all the ways you like to be touched. Even through your clothes, I can reach you. I can get to those places that get your heart racing and your blood flowing. You try to hide it, but you don’t dare try too hard.

Before long, your breath is short. Your heart is racing. I lean in closer, letting you feel mine as well. Everything slows down. Every gesture becomes more intense. Every emotion becomes heightened. I hold you closer and you finally respond, but only with more teasing.

For every gesture I offer, you respond with your own.

For every gasp I evoke, you evoke one too.

For every amorous glance, you gaze right back.

It’s no longer one-sided. You tempted me and now I’m tempting you. Neither one of us dares to give in. It’s a test of will and restraint. How long are we willing to endure? Just how badly do we want each other after so much temptation?

Like a barometer of our passion, we exceed basic yearning and enter uncharted territory. Here, the depths of our love become tangible. The extent of our desire becomes vast. I feel it and so do you. We really are this willing to endure. More importantly, we’re willing to endure together.

At that moment, the proverbial dam breaks. Finally, we give in. Touching turns to caressing. In a flash, our clothes come off and our bodies become entwined. Every sensation gains greater meaning. Every feeling gains greater depth.

We played the same game.

We endured the same temptation.

In the end, we share in the same ecstasy.

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