Tag Archives: Jack Fisher

Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Raking Leaves Edition

I tend to have mixed feelings about fall. On one hand, I love sexy Halloween costumes and pumpkin spice lattes. On the other, I hate having to dress in layers and not being able lounge around naked. Until I can sell enough sexy novels to retire in a tropical climate, my feelings will likely remain mixed.

One other thing that adds to that mixed sentiment is the prospect of raking leaves. I happen to live in a part of the country that has beautiful fall foliage, but requires a lot of messy yard maintenance. In fact, I’m convinced that part of the reason anyone has kids in this part of the country is to help them do dishes and rake leaves.

I remember many exhausting weekends in my youth, toiling in my yard and raking bags upon bags of leaves. There was just no end to it. Other than scrubbing the bathroom floor with a toothbrush, I can’t think of a more frustrating chore.

So to those who despise raking leaves as much as I do, I dedicate this week’s edition of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts to those who share in the soreness. Every chore is agonizing, to some extent. Some are just more agonizing than others. It’s those laborious moments when we need some sexy sentiments the most.


“Every great hero often begins their pursuit of greatness with an elaborate effort to get laid.”


“No relationship can hope to survive when two people cannot agree on the settings for the thermostat.”


“The prevalence of both circumcision and the human race is proof that even unwilling mutilation is not enough to stop legions of horny men.”


“The best hope any man has at getting a blowjob from a millennial woman is to make their semen taste like a latte.”


“Casual sex is like a Hot Pocket. Making love is like caviar. Angry make-up sex is like leftover pizza. All are delicious in their own special way.”


“Thanks to the invention of smartphones, there are probably more images of genitalia circulating today than there has ever been at any point in human history.”


“Wit and charm are just coy descriptions of a man who avoids saying things that immediately kill a woman’s sex drive.”


I hope these sexy sentiments make your back less sore when clearing your yard. Maybe one day I’ll make enough money from my sexy novels to pay people and/or robots to rake my leaves for me. Until that day comes, I’ll just use it as an excuse to work up a good sweat, feel extra sexy, and channel that into my next novel. In the end, everyone wins.

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Birthdays And Mid-Life Crisis: Should I Worry?

What goes through the mind of a person having a mid-life crisis? I used to ask that question a lot and laugh at the implications. Now, I ask that question more than I care to and often dread the implications.

Recently, I just celebrated my birthday. I’m not an old fart just yet, but I’m long past the age of celebrating birthdays with candles, puppets, and trips to Chuck E. Cheese. I can’t really call myself young anymore either. The fact I often recall my colorful college years is proof enough of that.

As of now, I think it’s safe to say I’m middle age. I’m in the early part of my 30s. I’m not married, I have no kids, and I’m single. While I’ve had a few failed efforts at online dating, I’m currently a long way away from having a stable relationship. That makes me worry that I’m on track for a mid-life crisis.

That may come off as paranoid, on my part. According to actual research on the subject, which does exist, people don’t have these things until their mid-forties at the earliest. However, I feel as though I check one too many boxes with respect to men who end up overly obsessing about where they are or aren’t at a certain point in their lives.

Maybe I’m just overreacting, after having celebrated a birthday that reminded me I’m a year older. I hope that’s the case because I don’t think I would handle a mid-life crisis well. According to WebMD, these are the signs that a man may be going through one and isn’t handling it in a healthy way:

  • You’re uneasy about major elements in your life
  • You feel that your time for taking a new direction is running short
  • You’re making unusual choices
  • You feel trapped and are tempted to act out in ways that will blow up your life

Either one of these symptoms is something I don’t think I’d handle well. In the past, I’ve shown an ability to effectively shame myself into changing my habits for the better. Who’s to say it won’t work in the opposite direction? I like to think I have enough perspective to avoid that, but I don’t know for sure what age will do to that perspective.

I’ve also had a tendency to be significantly behind the curve when it comes to social skills. Based on the particulars of a mid-life crisis, I worry that I might start pushing myself in unhealthy ways to unhealthy extremes. In a mid-life crisis, I imagine I won’t learn just how unhealthy it is until it’s too late.

This may all still be paranoia on my part. It might also be me worrying about getting deeper into my 30s, but still being single. I’ve already had that cause some issues in the past. As I get older and remain single, I’m sure those issues will continue.

It doesn’t help that a lot of friends and family members are starting to get married, have children, or get involved in long-term relationships. When I was in my 20s, I could sort of get away with being an outlier. I could just fall back on youth, inexperience, and stupidity. Those were good excuses, but like all excuses, they eventually become hallow.

Perhaps that’s what has me most worried about the prospect of a mid-life crisis. In talking about excuse banking, I’ve had to think a lot more about the excuses I’ve made in the past and the ones I still make to this day. I’m making these excuses at a time when I’m happy, healthy, and not feeling too old.

That could change a great deal after a few too many birthdays. Beyond the fact that the body always breaks down with age, the world around me is constantly changing. It’s a given that at some point in my life, I’m going to feel a certain level of stress, regret, and anxiety. That might tempted more than just extra excuses.

I’m not sure how that will manifest. Maybe I’ll go wild for a while at parties that I have no business attending. Maybe I’ll try to marry a random stranger on a trip to Las Vegas. Maybe I’ll buy a custom sex doll and name it after one of the characters in my books. It’s hard to know until it happens. I don’t want it to happen, but celebrating another birthday makes me wonder whether it’s inevitable.

In many respects, I’m well-equipped to either survive a mid-life crisis or avoid it altogether. I have a very strong support network among friends and family. I’m very close to my siblings, my parents, and my friends. A lot of them, especially my parents, know me better than I know myself. If I’m going through something, they’ll often pick up on it before I do.

Having that kind of support always helps. They’ve been a big part of what has inspired me to write this blog and my novels. I sincerely hope that one day, I can find a beautiful, loving woman to share that inspiration with as well. I’m working on that, but for the moment, I’m more vulnerable to a mid-life crisis than most.

At the moment, though, I’m still healthy, sane, and sexy as I’ve ever been. If that changes, chances are my posts on this blog will get a lot crazier and for a blog that has referenced sex robots, sex-positive superheroes, and cheesy romance movies that few men admit to liking, that’s saying a lot.

For this year, though, I’m going to enjoy all the birthday wishes I got from friends and family. I’m going to lavishly spend all the gift cards and eat all the cake. I’ll even have myself an extra beer for good measure.

Another year in this world has helped me improve as a person and as an aspiring erotica/romance writer. I want to keep improving. I also want to be ready for the moment when things in my life get rough.

I know if I can overcome them, I’ll be even better. Maybe I’ll even be able to get a few sexy novels out of them as well. If that kind of story helps me build my success, then I’m willing to endure in the name of all things sexy.

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Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Pumpkin Spice Edition

I have a confession to make. I worry that it may make some think less of me and for a man who often talks about sex robots and sleeping naked, that’s saying something. However, for the sake of entertaining my readers and being wholly transparent, I’ll make it anyways.

I love pumpkin spice lattes.

There, I said it. The secret is out. I, Jack Fisher, love pumpkin spice and all the seasonal delights that comes with it. Call it a quirk. Call it shameless adherence to marketing trends. I don’t care. I know it has become cool in recent years to make fun of them, but that doesn’t make them any less delicious.

It’s the middle of October. There are a lot of pumpkin-themed gimmicks going around. Sure, some of it is bland marketing, but why is that a bad thing? If it looks festive, smells good, and tastes good, why not enjoy it? I certainly do. As I write this, I have a pumpkin spice latte right in front of me and I will not apologize for it.

Whether you love them or hate them, pumpkin spice is here to help us usher in the fall. It’ll likely remain until we’re too bloated from Thanksgiving dinner to care. Until that time, though, I’ll be enjoying them as much as I can. As such, I dedicate this week’s edition of “Sexy Sunday Thoughts” to all things pumpkin spice. I hope it’s equally delicious.


“The sexually repressed who love to slut shame others are the radical vegans of sex.”


“A man who goes shopping with his wife to buy something other than sexy lingerie isn’t whipped. He’s in love.”


“If women graded men’s performance during sex, then a lot more would be inclined to study in anticipation of exams and pop quizzes.”


“Celibacy isn’t the same as anorexia in that it won’t kill you, but you’ll be less inclined to care that you’re dying.”


“Sex within a successful marriage is like re-watching your favorite movie. Sex within an unsuccessful marriage is like only eating leftovers.”


“The extent of someone’s horniness is directly proportional to their willingness to use their tongue.”


“When you think about it, doing something with your lover that kills the mood is the same as doing something with your computer that causes the screen to freeze.”


While I don’t doubt I’ll keep getting crap for my love of all things pumpkin spice, I still intend to enjoy it as much as I can. Like Christmas turkey, 4th of July barbecue, or bikinis in summer, it’s a seasonal treat worth appreciating. Like finding a wad of cash in your jacket or getting an extra lap dance, who doesn’t enjoy a rare treat?

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The Moment I Realized My Flirting Skills Sucked (A Personal Story From A Comic Book Store)

In my experience, those who say flirting is an art, not a science, either look like a celebrity, are insanely rich, or have giant dicks/tits. They think they understand flirting. They don’t realize that a lot of what they do is showing off and being inherently luckier than most.

I don’t claim to be an expert on flirting. In fact, for most of my adult life, I barely qualified as a novice. My idea of flirting involved a few compliments, lots of stammering, and the kind of goofy laughing that that even the Joker would find awkward. Eventually, I did learn to have meaningful conversations with the opposite sex. I kind of had to in order to write sexy novels. However, it was an arduous process, to say the least.

I had a lot of weird problems talking to people growing up, but not in the way you might think. Talk to any one of my family members, siblings, or relatives and they’ll tell you the same thing. As a kid, I could talk for hours with other adults, even if I wasn’t related to them. When it came to talking to people my own age, though, especially women, I might as well have been a brain damaged horse.

I don’t entirely understand the forces behind that awkwardness. Even some of my old teachers found it strange. All I know is that once puberty did its thing and I felt the urge to do more than just talk to women, things got even stranger. I’m pretty sure I came off as a socially inept alien from another planet. Maybe some girls thought that was cute, but not enough to respond to my pitiful attempts at flirting.

I know the art of flirting with women is a full-fledged industry these days, but I doubt it would’ve helped make my teenage years less awkward. I’ve shared some fairly dark moments in that life, most of them taking place in high school. I’ve also shared some fun, sexy moments, most of which took place in college.

Well, I’d like to share another personal story that perfectly depicts my complete inability to flirt in a way that doesn’t make someone uncomfortable/annoyed. It involves a comic book store so it’s a story that has some added weight too. Given my documented love of comics, I think it’s fitting that I realized how inept I am at flirting at one of my favorite places to be that doesn’t serve donuts and beer.

This particular incident took place early in my sophomore year of college. At the time, I’d adjusted fairly well to college life. I thought my social skills were also improving. I think I grossly overestimated some of my improvements, but in my defense, I was still healing from the scars left by high school.

It began like most Wednesdays do for me, restless and eager. For those of you who don’t know, new comic books are released on Wednesdays so that means this is basically every comic fan’s favorite day of the week. It’s like Christmas comes every week and you don’t have to put up any decorations.

The college I went to had a comic book store right in the downtown area and every Wednesday afternoon after my final class, I made it a point to run down there as fast as I could without looking like a dog was chasing me. It was often the highlight of my week, provided I didn’t have a mid-term.

Since I didn’t have a mid-term on this week, I made my way to the comic book store feeling as giddy as dog in a asshole factory. When I got there, the guy working there, with whom I was on a first-name basis, already had my comics pulled for me. I was ready to spend the rest of my Wednesday in a state of comic book bliss. That’s when I saw her.

Out of respect for her privacy, I won’t use her real name. For now, I’ll just call her Sandra. Picture Wonder Woman with shorter hair and more eye-liner. That’s how this woman looked. Naturally, my hormones nearly short-circuited my brain and butterflies were doing nude oil wrestling in my stomach. Yes, it was that intense a moment.

While I know it sounds like a bad stereotype that inspires bad milkshake-themed internet memes, there is some truth to it. A cute girl in a comic book store, even today, isn’t just a rarity. It’s a spectacle. This girl might as well have been a unicorn riding a white rhino. Her being in that store felt like a gift from the comic gods or whatever god just thought I finally deserved some luck in my love life.

I usually spend a few minutes browsing the comics anyways so I walked up to the girl, saw what she was reading, and started talking to her. Unlike my previous efforts to communicate with women, it wasn’t that awkward and for good reason. She was reading comics. That’s something I know. That’s something I can talk about for hours without stuttering.

I think I spent a good half-hour just talking to her about the comics she was reading. She actually talked back. She even smiled at me a few times. I’m not going to lie. My heart skipped several beats and my pants felt at least two sizes tighter. If ever there was a time when I was going to get a woman interested in me, this was it.

Then, I found a way to screw it up. I’m sorry, but this story doesn’t have a happy or sexy ending.

I knew from the get-go that I was going to try and ask this girl out. Talking about comics for hours on end is one thing, though. Actually taking that step towards asking her out is another. After I sense she’s ready to leave, I try to make my move. This is where the stuttering and awkwardness returns with a vengeance. Not even Batman could’ve helped me here.

I don’t remember exactly how I worded it. I might have started speaking Greek, for all I know. She looked like Wonder Woman so maybe that helped. I do remember, though, that she gave me her number so I must have said something right. It was actually a huge milestone because that was the first time a woman had ever given me her number.

Again, this story doesn’t have a happy or sexy ending. Getting that number was the high point of this story. It all went downhill after that because I basically handled this accomplishment in all the wrong ways.

It started with me trying to call her the next day and leaving her an awkward, stammering voicemail. I’m pretty sure that voicemail alone made her change the combination lock on her panties. I then tried to call her again that evening and left another horribly awkward voicemail.

I know they were horrible because as soon as I hung up my phone, I realized how pathetic they sounded. They were not the words of someone who had the confidence to be anyone’s lover. They sounded like someone who just didn’t know how to react to a situation where he had to be articulate and flirty with a woman.

I know women well enough to understand that they have a variety of tastes when it comes to prospective lovers, but few are attracted to anyone who sounds that inept. Needless to say, I never saw Sandra again. I tried calling her erratically over the next several weeks. I think she might have answered just once, if only because she felt sorry for me. That wasn’t enough for her to give me a chance, though.

Eventually, I stopped calling her and deleted her from my phone. When I noticed her not showing up at the comic book store anymore, I took that as a sign that I’d probably made a less-than-flattering impression. I can’t say I blamed her for avoiding me. I was needy, awkward, and inept in talking about anything that didn’t relate to comics. That just doesn’t check a lot of boxes for women looking for prospective lovers.

It counts as a low-light in my love life, but one that I learned from. It was that incident with Sandra that made me realize just how much I needed to improve my flirting skills and my communication skills, in general. It seemed so daunting at the time, but it was a catalyst, of sorts. It helped me realize that these skills with women aren’t just going to come to me. I have to actually work at it.

I’m still no expert. I barely qualify as an amateur when it comes to flirting. However, I am confident in saying that I’m much better than I was on that fateful day I encountered Sandra. If she were to show up again, even if it isn’t in a comic book store, I’m confident I could do more than just talk comics with her. I’m not saying I’d get her number again, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be that pathetic.

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Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Cosplayer Edition

Greetings and excelsior, as Stan “The Man” Lee would say. That feels like the best possible way I can cap off a week that involved a trip to New York Comic Con 2017. If it sounds like I’m still bathing in afterglow, like a Disney princess on her honeymoon, I’m not apologizing. That’s how it feels to visit New York Comic Con.

The sights, the sounds, and the experience are special to the hearts of every comic book fan, pop culture vulture, and people who just need an excuse to dress up in sexy costumes. It’s like a party where you know other people share your interests and you don’t have to be shy talking about them. I won’t say it’s the most satisfying experience I’ve ever had, but it’s definitely in the top 10.

Naturally, I saw some amazing sights, many of them sexy to no end. I will cherish these sights and memories for years to come, or at least until I go back next year. In the meantime, I’m dedicating this week’s edition of Sexy Sunday Thoughts to the wonders I experienced at the New York Comic Con.

Also, if you’re one of the sexy cosplayers who helped make the whole show a spectacle, I’d like to especially thank you. You make the world a better, sexier place.


“A honeymoon is basically a state/church-sanctioned vacation where you’re allowed to have sex without getting shamed for it.”


“Morning wood would be much more useful for women if semen had the same nutritional value as a latte.”


“The fact that women take pride in being able to give birth while men take pride in being able to pee while standing up is proof that there will always be gender inequality.”


“Seeing is believing works well with basic logic, but has a mixed track record when it comes to fake tits.”


“People who name their own genitals may be insecure, but those who let others name their genitals have to have a lot of confidence.”


“The idea of faking it until you make it may work with success, but not for orgasms.”


“Other than children, the greatest gift a wife can give her husband is permission to watch porn without stigma.”


Once again, I thank New York Comic Con and all the amazing cosplayers who make it awesome. Whether you’re elaborate, sexy, or creative with your costume, you show your passion in ways that any comic book fan or aspiring erotica/romance writer can appreciate. I look forward to sharing that passion at many future comic cons.

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Afterglow: The (Sexy AND Non-Sexy) Sights Of New York Comic Con 2017

I hope everyone forgives me for not having the energy to write about something elaborate, complicated, and insightful today. I’m still buzzing from all the fun I had at New York Comic Con the other day. That buzz is going to take a while to wear off and I’m totally okay with that.

If this were one of my sexy novels, I would be fully immersed in the afterglow phase. We all know that wonderful feeling, that sense you get when you’ve expended all your energy into something sexy, satisfying, and beautiful. You just want to bathe in that wonderful feeling it evokes. The fact that I’m writing this with a big goofy grin on my face should highlight the breadth of that feeling.

In the spirit of my New York Comic Con afterglow and the wonderful time I had, here are some of the pictures I collected of all the sexy sights and experiences I had. I hope to top them next year, but for now I’ll just let this fuel the afterglow.

Thanks again, New York Comic Con, for making my experience fun, satisfying, and so many other sexy things that I’d rather keep to myself. Coming from an aspiring erotica/romance writer, that’s saying something.

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Hello From New York Comic Con 2017!

I’m here! I’m excited! I’m having a great time! It’s the second best feeling a guy in New York could ask for. 

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October 6, 2017 · 10:48 am

On My Way To New York Comic Con 2017!

Some days are special, but only to a specific group of people. For some, it’s Elvis’ birthday. For others, it’s the birth of a child. There are even those who just get emotional on Taco Tuesdays.

For notes comic book fans, like myself, that day is today because as I write this, I’m preparing to make my way to the New York Comic Con. It is, quite possibly, the closest thing comic fans to a holy day. It involves parties, performances, and elaborate costumes. It’s basically like Mardi Gras, but with less nudity and public drunkenness.

It’s a wonderful time when comic fans gather over a shared passion. For someone like me, who writes a lot about passion in my novels, it’s a special feeling and one I intend to celebrate to the utmost. Expect me to enjoy this experience to the utmost and share the memories, sexy or otherwise, as I see fit.

So for all my fellow comic fans, or just those who share in this special passion, I thank you for helping to make the New York Comic Con awesome.

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Another Sexy College Story (Kind Of In The Way You Think)

By now, I imagine most college freshmen are settling into their new life of exams, late-night studying, and awful cafeteria food. I understand it’s a transition. It takes some getting used to, living on your own for the first time and having to be responsible for your own laundry. It can be jarring at first, but you come to appreciate it quickly.

College is a strange, but amazing experience. It’s like the last rest stop on the road to adulthood and you’re not entirely sure if your bladder is up to task. However, once you go through and do your business, you’re off on your own and ready to be an adult. It’s scare, but you really come to appreciate being able to buy beer without a fake ID.

Compared to the prison sentence/nightmare that was high school, college was breath of fresh air and a mouth full of chocolate fudge. I learned more in those four years than I did the last ten of public school. I actually got to forge my own path, make my own decisions, and carry myself like an adult and not some brooding teenager. It might have been the best therapy I could’ve gotten at that point in my life.

As part of that process, college had its share of sexy experiences for me, but not entirely in the way you think. There were a number of events in college that really made clear to me that I was an adult now and being horny wasn’t something my health teachers would treat like a goddamn chronic illness.

I’ve already shared one of those sexy college experiences on this blog. To date, that still ranks as one of the sexiest. It involved a party, a lot of drinking, and a couple showing off their sex appeal in front of a cheering crowd that I was proud to be part of. You can’t get much more college than that without a John Belushi look-a-like crashing the party.

While that night might have been one of the most memorable experiences I had in college, it definitely wasn’t the only one. Since the last one I shared went over so well with readers, I’d like to share another. This one isn’t quite the spectacle, but it’s still sexy in a more direct sort of way. It doesn’t involve a party or anything. However, it definitely helped inspire the young erotica/romance writer in me.

This particular incident happened in my sophomore year of college. It also happened to be the first year I stayed in a co-ed dorm. It was an upgrade compared to my freshmen year when I stayed in an all-male dorm. Believe it or not, when you put a bunch of young, hormonal men in a confined building who have never been without parental supervision before, it tends to get messy.

Living in a co-ed dorm did help balance things out, somewhat. There weren’t as many fire drills at two in the morning and not as much of the building smelled like sweaty socks. Don’t get the wrong idea, though. Contrary to what “Animal House” rip-offs would have you believe, it’s not as sexy as it sounds.

You learn quickly that putting young men and women in a confined building who aren’t used to being on their own can be just as messy, but with a few twists. When the sexes mix, it changes the dynamics and not always for the better.

It’s not just that young, hormonal men do stupid things when in the presence of women they’re trying to sleep with. Sometimes, the presence of both genders just means both have more chances to do all the crazy stuff they hesitated to do when they were still living at home. This story is a nice reflection of that.

Unlike my previous story, this one doesn’t take place at night or during the weekend. This takes place in the middle of the day, on a weekday, and right around mid-terms no less. It’s a stressful time, to say the least. There aren’t as many parties going on and some of the dorms, mine included, mandate certain “quiet hours” so residents can study.

In terms of timing, it may very well be the least sexy time of year. My roommate, who had a girlfriend, seemed to understand that. I remember him being a lot less energetic during that time, even when his girlfriend was around. However, other couples on my floor didn’t get the memo.

One of those couples, fittingly enough, lived right next door to me. Now, I knew my neighbors pretty well. I often went over there and watched TV with them when my roommate needed some “alone time” with his girlfriend, of which I totally respected. On this day, though, it wasn’t my roommate who was the issue.

It starts at around two in the afternoon. I’m in my dorm, my roommate is in class, and I’ve got my last mid-term of the week in about an hour-and-a-half. Naturally, I’m eager to get it over with and take a breath. Then, just as I’m trying to study, I hear something in the dorm next to mine.

It’s moaning. Namely, it’s the very sexual kind of moaning.

At first, I thought my neighbor accidentally left his speakers on while watching porn. It was kind of an unofficial rule. If you’re going to watch porn, you wear headphones. It’s just common courtesy. Then, as I listen closer, I realize this is not coming from a speaker.

I soon recognize one of the moans as belonging to my neighbor, the same guy who was nice enough to let me watch TV with him and his friends every weekend. I don’t recognize the girl, but I do recognize real, sexy moaning. It doesn’t take a porno connoisseur to know the difference.

Needless to say, I’m a little taken aback here, but I’m also very much intrigued. Remember, these are midterms. These might be the most stressful parts of the semester for some people and yet here’s my neighbor, dealing with it by having sex with his girlfriend. I’m not saying it’s a bad way to deal with stress. I’m just saying it’s a bit surprising, given the circumstance.

I quickly find myself listening a little closer. At one point, I think I stood close to the wall, right next to my closet, to make sure my ears aren’t playing tricks on me. I determine my senses were in perfect working order. This was really happening. A couple was having sex just a few feet from me, separated only by a cinder-block wall.

They weren’t very tactful either. I heard a bed rocking. I heard gasping, grunting, and moaning. It didn’t sound like a gentle, romantic kind of sex. This was the rough stuff and they seemed to really like it. I know because the girl was pretty vocal. I heard a few things from her that would probably get her fined by the FCC, but I doubt she minded.

It created this powerful scene in my head. I could vividly picture my neighbor and his girlfriend in the bed, going at it and loving every second of it. It might not have been romantic, given the setting, but they still made it sweet in their own special way. I like to think it helped lay the foundation for my future efforts as an erotica/romance writer.

I don’t remember exactly how long it lasted. I just know that the moaning and grunting stopped. Maybe they still went at it for a bit longer, but it was hard to hear at that point. That didn’t stop me from listening a bit longer, trying to pick up on the details. Eventually, though, it got quiet again and I surmised they had finished.

All this happened and I still had a mid-term in less than two hours. I’m not going to lie, that was quite a distraction, but one I didn’t mind. If anything, I found it to be kind of refreshing, given how stressful everything had been all week. I remember eventually going to my class, taking my mid-term, and not feeling as overwhelmed as usual. I guess my neighbor and his girlfriend deserve some of the credit for that.

I saw my neighbor again a few times after that. I didn’t mention what had happened that day. Neither he nor his girlfriend brought it up either. Every time I looked at them, though, I couldn’t help but laugh a little. During a stressful time in college, in a less-than-romantic moment, these two found a way to get sexy and intimate. For an erotica/romance writer, that’s nothing short of inspirational.

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Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Date Night Edition

In general, having great sex and maintaining a strong romance are similar in that there’s no one right way to do it. What works for one person or might not work for another. What’s quirky for one couple might be mundane for another. Love is a diverse, erratic, and beautiful thing. Like flowers in a garden, it blooms in many ways.

That said, there are some methods that have been scientifically proven, to some extent, to keep those sexy passions burning. Sure, lovers may get used to each other after a while, so much so that they know their favorite brand of toilet paper and what color dildo they prefer, but there are plenty of ways to keep things interesting. You just have to use your kinky imagination and a little basic brain hacking.

That’s where regular date nights come in. According to actual research, having regular date nights where a couple sets aside all distractions and focuses on getting frisky improves their chances at forging a lasting romance. It makes sense. By regularly putting some passionate effort into one another, you’re bound to keep things heated.

That’s why I highly recommend date nights for aspiring lovers, such as those I write about in my novels. While you and your lover are making those sexy plans, here are some Sexy Sunday Thoughts to set the mood.


“Begging for oral sex versus begging to give oral sex creates create wildly different situations for each gender.” 


“Relationship advice is like the stock market in that nobody can predict how it will pan out, only a few strike it rich, and major crashes cause major panic.” 


“At strip clubs or brothels, there’s really no such thing as an awkward boner.”


“If a relationship expert is single, does that inherently make them an hypocrite?”


“What does it say about us when so many people find a woman’s feet sexy, but nobody finds a man’s balls sexy?”


“Makeup sex is like soggy pizza. It’s not great, it’s not entirely satisfying, and we may think less of ourselves for enjoying it, but it’s still palatable and it gets the job done.”


“Pity sex is like the Pumpkin Latte of sex in that it’s okay to have every once in a while, but not on a regular basis.”


For all you spouses, lovers, or friends-with-benefits out there, I hope this helps get you in the mood for date night, whenever it might be. Being in love doesn’t mean you stop trying. You still have to put in the effort to make that love fruitful. Given how that effort can result in some quality sexy time, I honestly can’t think of anything more worthwhile.

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