Tag Archives: love

Daily Sexy Musing: Dirty Loving

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Love is sweet, but sex is dirty. That’s one of the first things you notice when you start consuming romantic media. Even though society has become more sex positive in recent years, there’s no avoiding generations of innuendo and connotations that links sex with all things dirty. Even some aspects of love get caught up in that comparison.

It can be frustrating, and even a little annoying, to see such Puritanical themes in romance, but there are also times when it feels fitting. When you get right down to it, the sexy moments we share with our lovers are objectively dirty. There’s nudity, touching, kissing, and the swapping of various body fluids. It doesn’t always happen on a warm bed with clean bed sheets, either.

There are times when getting dirty is exactly what a moment needs to gain that extra-sexy aura. Sure, there’s plenty of appeal to getting frisky with your lover in the Presidential Suite of a Four Seasons hotel on a private island in the Caribbean. There’s also some appeal to slipping into a dark, dirty broom closet that smells like bleach and dust to get intimate.

It speaks to just how flexible, imaginative, and kinky we can be in exercising our sexy side. That process often requires that we shed the clean, refined traditions we assume are so vital and channel our nasty side. It takes many forms and can make for some incredibly hot moments. This Daily Sexy Musing is my personal dive into those dirty, filthy, disgusting moments that we still love. Enjoy!

The air is muggy.

The floor is dirty.

The lighting is poor.

The mood is tense.

Everything around us so unkempt, devoid of polish or refinement. It’s like the wildness has invaded our domain and won handily, reverting our civilized structures to decrepit relics. To anyone else, it’s the least desirable domain. For us, it is the ultimate destination.

Here, we need not be formal.

Here, we need not be elaborate.

Here, we need not be dignified.

Beneath our clean clothes and groomed flesh, we are the same animals that once rolled around in filth, unashamed and unafraid. No amount of soap, polish, or refinement can wash away our primal nature. Nothing can be done to silence that urge to just throw it all away and run towards the dirtiness.

I take your hand, sweaty and unwashed. We shed all fear and reservation of all things unclean. Sweat, saliva, and grime no longer repulse us. Instead, we savor the unrefined feeling, tapping into instincts long hidden. This filthy domain tried to dissuade us. Instead, we make it our own.

Every kiss is messy and sloppy.

Every touch is unguided and unabashed.

Every sound is raw and animalistic.

The dirt becomes our bed and the dank air becomes our blanket. Free and untamed, we smother each other in our own filth. I taste your truest self and you taste mine. Like unrefined sweets, it confounds our senses, but exhilarates our passions.

Inspired by unclean thoughts and actions, we let the filth collect on our flesh. What takes us such time and effort to clean is sullied so quickly and with great ease. There’s no need to be careful or restrained.

You want our love to get raw.

You want our bodies to messy.

I answer your filthy desires.

I proceed to dirty you from head to toe.

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“My Favorite Client” A Sexy Short Story (For Memorial Day)

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The following is a sexy short story that was partially inspired by some real-life anecdotes about men coping with loss with the help of sex workers. A good portion of those stories came from men who had served in the military and in the spirit of Memorial Day, I wanted to capture the beauty of those experiences.

Whether you’re a veteran or just someone who has had to find ways to cope with loss, I hope you can appreciate this. Enjoy!

“The first Thursday of the month,” Reyna Stanly said to herself, “the best day of any month in my otherwise fucked up life.”

The young woman carried herself with more energy than usual and for good reason. It was a welcome day of contentment, especially for a professional escort. As someone who lived a life of ever-evolving risks and obstacles, she understood the value of those days better than most. After the week she’d endured, she needed one.

Having arrived at the mid-level hotel a half-hour ago, Reyna made her way up to the eighth-floor suite, as she’d done many times before. She wore the same low-cut black dress that she’d worn for the past several encounters with the special client that awaited her at the end of the hall. It wasn’t too sexy. Most people who saw it wouldn’t associate it with an escort or sex worker. Walking through the lobby, she looked like someone on her way to a dinner party at an overpriced restaurant.

Compared to what most clients asked her to wear, it was a welcome touch style. It made her feel like she was playing a role rather than providing a service. For the client that awaited her – a very special, very important client that she’d come to cherish – she took great pride in playing that role. It meant almost as much as her as it did to him.

“If only everyone in my life appreciated my dedication as much as you, Willie,” Reyna sighed as she approached the door.

As she prepared for the not-so-typical job before her, she lamented that the most decent male role model in her life was someone she’d met while escorting. It would’ve been hilarious if it weren’t true, but from where she came from, role models were hard to come by.

Her father had walked out on her mother and sister when she was six. After that, her mother went onto date a string of loser guys, eventually marrying one who could help pay off her gambling debts. It hadn’t been out of the goodness of his heart, though. That man, who she still refused to call her father, only kept her out of debt so she wouldn’t give him any crap out about cheating on her.

Her older sister followed a similar path, attracting all the wrong men before marrying the one who got her pregnant in high school, albeit after some heated coaxing. Theirs was not a stable marriage, to say the least. They fought more than they loved, cheated on each other so often that Reyna could practically set her watch to it. She escaped that environment the first chance she got.

However, her judgement hadn’t been that much better than her mother or sister. In high school, she’d played the part of the class slut, hooking up with multiple men and having a long string of empty relationships. Most of that was her way of staying away from home, but it came at the price of attracting men who cared more about easy sex than genuine intimacy. Whether by bad luck or family tradition, Reyna and her family never seemed to cross paths with the kind of men who were worth loving.

“Guess that’s more my fault than yours,” she said under her breath, lingering at the door as she checked her phone. “You were just looking to mend a broken heart. I was looking for easy money. Now, here I am…needing you as much as you need me.”

It was tragic, but oddly fitting. She’d gone most of her life knowing few good men. Then, she left home, got into a local college, and started making her own money as an escort with the goal of never having to rely on a man. Willie Mavin didn’t necessarily derail that goal, but he certainly complicated it and for all the right reasons.

As she knocked on the door, Reyna felt like needed to affirm those reasons. Having had so many poor influences on her, she had to cling to the few good ones she still had.

“Come in,” said the familiar voice from inside the room.

Smiling for the first time all week, Reyna entered the room and into her role. At that moment, she was no longer Reyna Stanly, the trashy young woman who made her living as a whore for men with no time for a mistress. She became Mandi, the affectionate young woman who reminded a lonely man of better times.

“Mandi,” said a tall, lanky, middle-aged figure sitting on the bed, “you’re as stunning as ever.”

“You’re too kind, Willie…way too kind,” she replied in a voice that blurred the lines between fantasy and reality.

Upon closing the door behind her, making sure to lock it and place the “do not disturb” tag on the handle, she set aside her purse and made her way to king size bed where her favorite client awaited her.

“I’ve missed you,” she told him, mixing the traditional script of an escort with honest sentiment. “You make the first Thursday of every month something I look forward to.”

“So do you,” said Willie as he gazed at her with that loving admiration.

“This past month has been especially tough. I need this as much as you do.”

“I believe you.”

She’d heard that from men before, pretending they could empathize with her plight. She rarely believed it, especially from clients. However, Reyna made an exception for Willie.

She also made an exception when it came to embracing a client. She didn’t just stand in front of him, posing like a model in hopes of tempting him into paying for another hour. She immediately joined him on the bed, slipping into his arms and sitting on his lap. She barely even noticed the empty envelope containing her payment on the nightstand. Willie never short-changed her or abused her trust. Very few men in her life could make such a claim.

“You seem tense, Mandi,” he said as he slipped an arm around her waist and caressed her face. “Is everything alright?”

“It is now,” Reyna replied with a reassuring smile. “Try not to worry about me. I’m here for you, remember?”

“You make that difficult to forget,” Willie said as he smiled back.

“Then, I must be doing my part exceptionally well.”

“You do more than that, Mandi…much more.”

He embraced her closer, holding her as he would a cherished lover. He was so affectionate and tender, kissing her neck and taking in her scent, which she’d augmented with her best perfume. It was enough to get her heart racing as she returned his affection, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him deeper into her intimate warmth.

Reyna knew how it must have looked from an outside perspective. Anyone observing them at that moment wouldn’t have seen anything other than a tall, slender man in his late 40s with graying hair holding a young female escort in her early 20s. It had all the qualities of a typical encounter between a sex worker and an older man. She wouldn’t have blamed anyone for seeing it as anything other than some guy wanting to get frisky with a cute young woman.

However, there was much more at work than a man willing to pay for sex and a woman willing to accept money for it. Some of it showed in the clothes he wore. Like her, Willie wore the attire that evoked his fondest memories. That included a neatly-pressed dress shirt with military emblems, a clip-on tie, and navy-blue slacks that had just been dry cleaned the other day. It gave him the presence of a man who knew how to take care of himself and valued how he presented himself to others.

He’d learned that skill in the military and still carried himself like an honorable, disciplined soldier. That kind of ability and self-respect did plenty to set Willie apart, but those were just the most obvious qualities she admired. The rest ran much deeper.

“This week has been especially lonely,” Willie said after he finished kissing er. “It would’ve been our wedding anniversary on Monday. My son tried to visit so we could spend some time together, but his flight got cancelled.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Reyna said. “I hope he makes it up to you.”

“He will. He’s a good young man, just like his brother. I’m not worried about him. I’m just focused on you…on us.”

“And I intend to do nothing less.”

True to her word, a trait any competent escort valued, Reyna dove deeper into her role. Caressing his unshaven face with both hands, she kissed him with a soft, but sensual passion on the lips.

It was not the kind of kiss she shared with other clients. It was genuine and loving, akin to something a dear lover would give to someone who they’d missed. Almost immediately, it had an impact. She sensed his tension settle. The rugged, manly musk of her breath helped her settle too.

“My darling, Mandi,” Willie gasped with an intensity few men dared to show, even with an escort.

Her heart skipped a beat. She still wasn’t used to that, especially with a client. Reyna wasn’t sure she wanted to get used to it. The way Willie held her and the way he kissed her triggered something in her that she didn’t think she could feel for a man, even before she became an escort.

As the kiss deepened, those feelings intensified. Before long, a kiss was no longer sufficient.

“Willie…sweetheart,” Reyna said, now deep into her Mandi persona.

“Yes, Mandi?” he replied, already breathless.

With a coy grin and the taste of his lips still lingering, she broke the embrace and turned around so that he could see the back of her dress.

“Would you please unzip me?” she asked him. “This dress feels so…burdensome.”

“Of course, my dear,” Willie replied without hesitation.

Like a gentleman, he did as she requested, unzipping her dress with the utmost care. He wasn’t like some horny guy eager to get a girl naked. He was so careful, highlighting every inch of newly exposed flesh.

Once he reached the bottom of the dress, she stood up and let it fall off her body. In doing so, Reyna revealed she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Upon stepping out of her dress, kicking off her heels in the process, the only article of clothing she had left was a pair of black lace panties. When she turned around, giving him a perfect view of her feminine features, the awe in his eyes was profound.

“Wow,” said Willie in a daze. “You’re as beautiful as I remember…a sight I never get tired of.”

Reyna just smiled curtly as he gazed upon her, leaning back on his arms and taking in every feature. He’d seen her naked many times before, but she knew Willie wasn’t just referring to her natural beauty when he saw her voluptuous form. In his eyes, he wasn’t looking at Mandi, the escort he paid for a night of intimate company. He was looking at Mandi, his deceased wife.

“I miss you…so much,” he said with a hint of sorrow in his tone.

“Oh Willie,” she said, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

That was only half-true. She knew she wasn’t Amanda, the woman he’d married right out of high school and loved with all his heart until she succumbed to cancer. He had to know that too, but it didn’t matter at that moment. As far as they were both concerned, the harsh reality of their respective lives didn’t apply within the walls of the hotel suite. For just a brief moment, they could enjoy a quiet moment of intimacy.

“You’re here,” Willie said, tears already forming in his eyes. “God, I want you.”

“I want you too, Willie,” she told him.

Her role made room for her skills as an escort. With a seductive poise that she’d refined from her promiscuous past, she slipped back onto his lap, straddling his waist and grinding her groin up against his pelvis. That got the blood flowing to the lower half of his body. It also prompted a flood of amorous affection.

“My sweet, Mandi,” he gasped. “My sweet, beautiful Mandi.”

It was tough to maintain that seductive mood when he was so loving with his gestures. Willie was always more tender than most of her clients, but there was something different about the way he touched her exposed upper body. He playfully fondled her breasts, buried his face in her neck, and traced his fingers down her waist and hips, as if to paint an image in his mind.

“Mandi…I see you,” Willie gasped as he kissed her.

“So do I,” she whispered into his ear.

The foreplay quickly intensified. As Willie felt around her exposed upper body, she began loosening his clothes, removing his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt. It played out like so many other encounters she’d experienced with clients, but there was deeper story unfolding between them.

Reyna had come to know the details of that story well. Since he became a regular, she’d learned a great deal about the role she played. Amanda Mavin, the woman Willie saw whenever they were together, was a very different woman than the one she’d become. She wasn’t just a loving mother and supportive wife. She’d been a gifted artist, a college professor, and an adventurous traveler.

Willie claimed she saw the world as a work of art worth admiring and exploring. She’d taken him to so many wonderful places, sharing so many passions along the way. After serving in the army, spending time in war zones and seeing so many awful things, he needed that. She helped him see and experience beauty in the world again.

When Willie first told her about Amanda, she laughed at the notion that she had anything in common with her. She doubted they even looked alike. Then, he showed her some old pictures and the resemblance was undeniable. When he told her about the kind of spirit she had and how she’d overcome a less-than-ideal upbringing, Reyna saw more and more similarities. It made the intimate experiences they shared more meaningful.

For Willie, it was a way to reconnect with the memory of a woman he loved and missed dearly. For Reyna, it started as her providing comfort and sex to a lonely widower. It soon became as therapeutic for her as it was for him. After the week she’d endured, she needed that therapy more than usual.

“Willie,” Reyna said in the midst of all the affectionate touching, “lie down on your back.”

“Of course, my darling,” he said in that deep, loving tone of his.

Having rekindled old memories and the passions connected to them, she pursued the escalating desire. After guiding him towards the center of the bed, he laid down and kicked off his dress shoes, allowing her to go to work.

She channeled more of Mandi’s spirit, removing his dress shirt, undoing his belt, and taking off his slacks. She took her time, kissing down his chest and pawing his arms. He once told her that Mandi treated lovemaking like a work of art, requiring exquisite detail and impassioned vision. Reyna never saw sex in such a colorful way, but she quickly came to appreciate that approach. Upon removing the widowers underwear, she saw how much Willie appreciated it as well

“Wow! You did miss me, Willie,” Reyna said coyly while eying his semi-erect manhood.

“What can I say? Certain parts of the human body say more than words ever well,” Willie said with a playful grin.

She smiled back at him before channeling more of that sexy spirit. She briefly hovered over him, allowing him to admire her body even more. She even dangled her breasts in his face, something he once said Amanda loved to do during intimate moments. He also once mentioned she loved it even more when she gave his penis a quick lick to prepare for their sex. With most men, Reyna would’ve assumed that was just a creative way to get oral sex. With Willie, she trusted his word.

Like a sexy angel, she lovingly kissed his lips before sensually working her way down his body. Willie kept in great shape for a man his age. All the work and travel he did with his late wife really paid off. That extended to his penis, which was already throbbing by the time she reached it.

With skilled hands and talented lips, she gave the widower a quick round of oral teasing. She was more careful than usual, sucking and stroking his member while looking up at him with affectionate eyes. It evoked a familiar, yet rewarding reaction.

“Oh Mandi…my love,” Willie moaned.

She replied with more sucking, bobbing her head up and down, making full use of her oral sex skills. Seeing the older man so happy and impassioned was a nice personal bonus and one she didn’t get with most clients. It motivated her to share in the feeling, as well. As she sucked him off, she reached into her panties and fingered herself, building up her own arousal.

As soon as she got him fully hard, she rose up from the bed and removed her panties. She also retrieved a condom that she’d stashed inside, a trick that only the savvy, most cunning escorts could pull off. After opening it and applying it to his rigid manhood, they were ready to complete the moment that they’d both come to appreciate.

“I’m ready for you, Willie,” Reyna said to him as she got back on top of him.

“Please, Mandi…I need you,” Willie said, reaching up and caressing her face.

It almost was sad, hearing the longing in his voice. She saw in his eyes how much he wanted to cling to the memory of his late wife. Even if she wasn’t that woman, he yearned to turn those joyous memories into an experience…one she could share with him.

Eager to share something so loving and intimate, Reyna positioned herself over him, straddling his waist and holding onto his torso. She locked her eyes on his, doing her best to mimic the loving gaze his wife must have given him for so many years. Then, as he slipped deeper into his memories, she lowered her hips and guided his manly flesh into her.

“Ooh Willie!” Reyna moaned out.

She was more vocal than usual, but for all the right reasons. The way he filled her depths, her womanly folds embracing his rigid manhood to the utmost, filled her with more than just the familiar sensations of sex. It turned an act of basic sexual intercourse into a truly intimate act.

“Mandi…my sweet, sweet Mandi,” Willie said joyously.

“I feel you, Willie…so deep inside me,” she gasped.

Now lost with him in the feeling and the fantasy, Reyna began moving her body in a succession of slow, sensual motions. They didn’t rock the bed or strain their bodies with their sex. There was none of that crude, mindless humping that she’d experienced so common with other clients. She put real, genuine passion into their sex.

“I need this…you need this…we need this,” Reyna found herself saying in the midst of their movements.

Having established a steady rhythm, she leaned in and kissed him lovingly, allowing their naked bodies to fully mesh. The widower returned the favor, throwing his arms around her and grabbing hold of her butt, something she’d always loved during sex. It allowed him to supplement her sensual movements with his strength, evoking more blissful sensations and deepening the intimacy.

That was a big part of what made Willie her favorite client. He made their sex – the same sex that she once treated as a simple means to an end – a truly intimate act. She thought she knew intimacy from her previous boyfriends. In serving Willie, she realized those experiences were just lust, hormones, and the pursuit of meaningless pleasure. There was nothing meaningless about what she did with Willie. It might have been the most meaningful part of her otherwise hectic life.

“That’s it, Willie…make love to me,” she whispered to him. “Make sweet, beautiful love to me.”

“I will, Mandi! I…I will!” he said eagerly.

He kissed her more passionately as she rode him with focused intent, working his rigid manhood within the moist depths of her inner domain. As he squeezed her butt, she reached down and fondled her swollen clit, wanting to share the pleasure with him. It further intensified the intimacy that they both so cherished.

As they embraced the feeling, Reyna also shared in the sensual efforts. She got a bit more playful at times, leaning back and swaying her body in a sexy dance, of sorts, that earned her a beaming smile from Willie. He did his part as well, gliding his hands over her naked flesh, making sure to give her nipples some extra attention, knowing how much she loved it.

Each movement and gesture had a purpose.

Each intimate act took them closer to their goal.

Slowly, but surely, they ascended towards their respective climax.

As it drew near, Reyna shifted their bodies so that Willie was on top, working his hips with hers with energy not topical of a man his age. She held onto his shoulders, spread her legs extra wide, and locked her eyes with his once more, urging him to finish the experience.

“Oohhh I’m close, Willie! I’m so…so close!” she told him.

“Me too, Mandi! Me…too!” Willie said with labored grunts.

“Just…just a little longer. I want us…I need us…to share this.”

For a brief moment, Reyna broke character. It might have been the first time she’d ever blurred the line between the woman she was and the woman she pretended to be while escorting. It was something she’d been taught to avoid, entangling such sentimental feelings with sex work. It might have been risky, but in that moment, it felt so right.

“Mandi…my love,” the older man gasped as he neared the threshold.

“Willie,” was all she got out before following him into that world of ecstasy.

A few more shared bodily motions was all it took. When the feeling washed over them, time seemed to stop as the line between memories and roles vanished.

It wasn’t a simultaneous climax, but it was pretty damn close. Willie got his first, letting out a sharp gasp as his grip on her hips tightened in accord with his release. Feeling that hard, throbbing flesh inside her along with the heightened intimacy helped send her over the edge as well. While Reyna had gotten fairly adept at achieving orgasm with clients, she usually had to make a concerted effort. She didn’t need much when she was with Willie.

With him, the release came to her. His heartfelt sentiment took her to that special place where ecstasy took a tangible form, each sensation reverberating through her like a wave of heat. It caused her back to arch and her toes to curl, ruffling he bedsheets every step of the way. As always, she savored every minute sensation. Unlike every other orgasm she’d experienced as an escort, the one she shared with Willie left her feeling uniquely fulfilled.

“Willie…thank you,” Reyna said in the heat of the moment.

“Mandi…I miss you,” Willie said in his orgasmic daze.

She lingered in that daze with him, if only to escape a much harsher reality with him. She kissed him and embraced him again, even after he withdrew from her and laid down beside her. Their naked bodies remained entwined as the afterglow set in. Reyna already sensed the time he’d paid for running out, but she didn’t care. She didn’t even check the clock. Escort or not, she needed that special, intimate moment with him.

“Thank you,” the older man said, still catching his breath as he held her in his arms. “I know I make things awkward…mixing memories of my wife with what we do.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Reyna told him, daring to cuddle closer with her favorite client. “You loved her. You miss her. And based on all the times we’ve done this…I can tell you two were pretty passionate.”

“We were. It’s one of the many things I miss about her,” he said with a sigh, “but those intense, intimate moments we shared over the years…I miss those the most.”

“That’s how you know your love was real. Not everyone gets to experience that kind of love, let alone appreciate it. You wanting to relieve it, even its with an escort who just happens to look like her, isn’t the least bit awkward. It’s sweet.”

“I’m glad you appreciate it.”

“Believe me, Willie…I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.”

 

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Daily Sexy Musing: Flowers And Roses

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As someone with a long and tortured history with allergies, I admit I’m not too fond of flowers and roses being symbols of romance. That said, I don’t outright resent it. I understand the appeal. I’ve even embraced it a time or two. It’s just hard to appreciate when romantic sentiment is mixed with itchy eyes and severe nasal congestion.

However, these are just some of the things we brave in the name of romance. Back in college, I remember picking up my girlfriend from the airport so we could spend our first Spring Break together. I was excited, nervous, and anxious for any number of reasons. In an effort to set the mood, I bought her some flowers and gave them to her she arrived.

Without getting too heavy into personal details, I’ll say those flowers definitely helped. To this day, that was one of my favorite Spring Breaks of all time. Flowers, roses, and all the colorful plants we associate with romance help convey a certain sentiment. There’s just something special about their beauty and their scent that puts us in the perfect romantic mood.

With spring upon us and summer fast approaching, flowers and roses of all types are in bloom. It’s still murder on my allergies, but it still sets a uniquely romantic mood that can get sexy real fast. That mood, and the romantic undertones behind it, is more than deserving of a Daily Sexy Musing. Enjoy!

There’s that smell, again.

There’s that distinct rich aroma, once more.

There’s that special feeling it evokes, so often.

For just a small fraction of a turbulent year, the changing seasons inspire natural passions. The cold, brutal nights are gone. Trees, grass, and animals awake to warmer days and fertile lands. Within that bountiful transition, fields of roses and flowers bloom. They signal to us that the time has come to emerge from our shelters and embrace a world reborn.

The sights of greener pastures and the sounds of lively fauna are joyous, but it’s that scent that hits first. We both feel the impact, as if jolted from a long slumber. In an instant, realize how much we’ve repressed and restrained ourselves. Now, it feels like nature itself is urging us to unleash our desires.

I pick up a flower.

I pick up a rose.

I inhale the sweet smell.

I present it to you.

No words need be said. The message is clear. Sweet smells, vibrant colors, and welcome warmth tell us everything we need to know. Gone are the layers of clothing that protected from the cold, but created a barrier between our flesh. With nothing to hinder us, we follow the meaning behind the scent.

It’s a fertile halo.

It’s an intimate symbol.

It’s a gift from nature.

It’s a key to greater passions.

Surrounded by warmth and scents, I take you as eagerly as you take me. Every pent-up desire comes pouring out. In a sea of flowery beauty and rosy scents, we light the spark that ignites our love. Sweet gasps mix with sweet smells. In a fertile new world, our spirits are renewed.

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Daily Sexy Musing: Animal Loving

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Technically speaking, human beings are animals. I know there are certain individuals, especially creationists, who abhor such an association. For some, the idea of being closely associated with mere animals, let alone classified as one, just doesn’t sit well. While I’ve little respect for creationists, I can respect that sentiment to some extent.

That said, I don’t think being labeled an animal is necessarily a bad thing. In many ways, it provides an important perspective on ourselves and our place in the world. As humans, we’re capable of some pretty amazing feats. We have literally reshaped the face of this planet. At the same time, we’re still animals cut from the same mold as monkeys, dogs, cats, birds, lizards, and dinosaurs.

This extends to our love lives. I would even argue our animal nature is part of what makes our love lives so complex and kinky. Every animal goes about sex, society, and bonding in their own unique way. Humans just happened to be especially unique, but we still retain many elements of our animal nature.

At times, the greatest intimacy we experience comes when we channel our animal nature. There’s a reason why so many songs, euphemisms, and sexual positions have primal connotations. Whether we’re doing it doggie style or going at it like rabbits, we definitely have an animal side. When properly applied, it makes for amazing lovemaking. This Daily Sexy Musings should help make that case to the animal in us all.

This morning, everything was so calm. We were just two lovers, living our lives and navigating our world. Nothing was out of place. Our minds, bodies, and faculties were within our control. It was all so peaceful and serene.

Then, night came.

Then, our bodies awoke.

Then, our minds devolved.

Then, harmony gave way to chaos.

In an instant, the higher function of our human brains gives way to the base desires of our primal nature. We act on a whim and those whims are so crude. Gone are concerns about work, money, society, and propriety. In this moment, we are barely human. For the rest of the night, we are animals acting on pure, unfettered desire.

We’re dogs in heat.

We’re salmon swimming upstream.

We’re birds sounding the mating call.

On instinct, we respond to these feelings. There’s no thought or care to the details. All that matters is feeding this basic desire, following freely the primal path before us. Deeper love gives way to shallow lust. We seek no greater purpose or goal. Only a thirst for pleasure guides us.

Like hungry predators, we pounce on one another. We’re not gentle or careful. Clothes are ripped off rather than removed. There’s no caressing or teasing. Instead, we grope and grasp, indulging in the flesh that feeds the beast within us. Together, we unlock the chains and let the creature roam.

Moans become grunts.

Gasps become growls.

Words become glares.

What began as a deep human connection is now a shallow primal act. There’s no greater meaning behind our actions, nor does there need to be. Every hour of every day, we channel our humanity, just to get along with our fellow humans. When the sun sets and the doors close, we dare to unleash the animal within and savor the fruits of our beastly desires.

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“The Quiet Stud” A Sexy Short Story

nerdy-dudes

The following is a sexy short story inspired by a former roommate who was scrawny in stature, but had other “attributes” that made him very popular with the ladies. If he ever reads this, I hope he appreciates it. Enjoy!

“What’s with that guy in the corner?”

“I don’t know. He’s been working here for years and he’s barely said a word.”

“I’m not sure what to make of him. Word is he’s a bit of a recluse.”

“I hear he has issues…as in, issues that require medication, therapy, and a social worker.”

“I hear he’s just plain fucking weird.”

Hellen Hyland snickered to herself as she heard that all-too-familiar conversation unfold. The company had just had its biweekly meeting. As the young paralegal tasked with handing the boring paperwork, she knew how to fade into the background while the overpaid, overdressed executives discussed the business of the day. However, it was often after the meeting ended that the more interesting conversations emerged.

A frequent subject of those conversations was Terry Rhinehart, the overly quiet man in the neatly-pressed suits who rarely said a word. He rarely had to, for the most part. He was an accountant with the finance department. Much of his day centered around staring at spreadsheets, crunching numbers, and balancing the books. By all accounts, he did that job very well. In fact, Terry might have been the only employee that the director hadn’t yelled at all year.

On top of that, he wasn’t too imposing. He wasn’t tall, muscular, or charismatic. Some had even called him scrawny and he probably wouldn’t have argued. He looked like the kind of guy who did everything possible to skip gym class in high school. He was the last person most would pick to be on the company softball team. Had Hellen not known him, she wouldn’t have paid much attention to all those off-hand conversations about him.

However, Hellen did know Terry. In fact, she knew him intimately. It wasn’t common knowledge throughout the office, but she and Terry had been an item for nearly a year. In that time, she’d gotten to know the quiet young man behind those neatly-pressed suits. In the process, she’d also learned there was more man within that undersized stature than they thought.

“If only they knew,” Hellen said, shaking her head as she gathered her notes.

Smiling to herself, hiding her demeanor as she exited the conference room, she made her way back to the tiny desk within the sea of cubicles that made up the heart of the company. It was the middle of the day so almost everybody was already stressed out and planning their lunch break. Being a proactive person, by nature, Hellen had already made plans.

“It’s 11:30 and I’m officially ahead of schedule,” she said upon checking the clock after filing away her notes. “That means I have extra time. I’d better use it wisely.”

Still smiling, Hellen slipped away from her desk before her supervisor could drop by and stick her with a meaningless task. She then made her way to the far corner of the office floor. It was an area where few ventured, mostly because there wasn’t much there aside from old filing cabinets and storage areas. It didn’t even have windows with a decent view of the office campus. The only notable feature was Terry Rhinehart’s cubical.

It was such a quiet area, one befitting of such a quiet man. It also had an aura of mystery, being a nook in the office that few rarely ventured. It was part of what had drawn Hellen to Terry in the first place. That curiosity paid off in a big way…one that went beyond any mystery.

“Terry,” she called out as she approached his cube.

She didn’t get a response. She didn’t expect to. She could hear the rapid typing on the keyboard, the mark of a focused, fast-working mind. Hellen knew he heard her, but it often took more to get him out of that zone of his.

“Terry, it’s 11:30 a.m. and department heads are still entertaining the consultants,” she told him. “That means they’ll spend no less than 15 minutes brown-nosing the one with the biggest bank account. That gives us something we haven’t had lately…time.”

Upon hearing that, the fast typing stopped. The cramped, but meticulously organized cubicle fell silent. It was the kind of silence that made Hellen weak in the knees, but for the best possible reason.

Terry turned around in his chair, revealing to her the neatly-dressed, perfectly-groomed young man with a small, yet endearing presence. On the surface, he was still unimposing. One of her co-workers once described him as an extra from a 1950s American sitcom, complete with a pocket protector and a sweater vest. However, in Terry Rhinehart, Hellen saw so much more in him.

“I take it the meeting went well if it ended on time,” said Terry in that deep, analytical voice of his.

“I’d certainly say so. Are you going to review my notes to make sure?” Hellen asked, half-teasingly.

“I’ll take your word for it, Hellen. You’ve given me plenty of reasons to trust you.”

“For what I’ve contributed, professionally and otherwise, I sure as hell hope so.”

“You have,” he said strongly, “and if the consultants didn’t drag the meeting out, then that means they’re receptive. If they’re receptive, that means they’re willing to negotiate. If they’re willing to negotiate, then that means we’ll have upwards of 30 minutes…more than we’ve had in the past three months.”

Hellen’s grin widened and her legs shifted awkwardly for reasons that only Terry understood. Leave it to a numbers nerd to crunch data like that so quickly. The fact he was that thorough when it came to making time for her only made her love him more. At the same time, it boded well for how they would make use of that time.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to make use of every minute,” said Hellen.

“I’d like that too,” said Terry. “I’d like that a lot.”

Then, he did something that would’ve freaked out everyone else at the office. He smiled.

Given his reputation as a recluse and a number-loving nerd, the idea that Terry Rhinehart could smile must have seemed outrageous. The fact was that he had a beautiful smile. He just chose to share it to those who mattered and the idea that she mattered that much to him only made Hellen’s excitement grow.

“Where should we do it this time?” Hellen asked him. “The parking lot is always crowded during lunch time and the stairwell gets pretty noisy during this time of day.”

“Then, I suppose we’ll make due with the utility closet upstairs,” said Terry. “The cleaning crew isn’t due to show up for another two hours. That gives us a comfortable window.”

Hellen would’ve laughed if urgency hadn’t taken over. Trusting his lover’s knowledge of the custodial staff’s schedule, she took his hand and followed him towards the nearest stairwell, away from prying eyes and curious onlookers. Even if anyone had seen them, they would’ve just seen two co-workers taking an early lunch break. They had no idea what was about to unfold.

With an efficiency befitting of two detail-orientated individuals, they make their way to the sixth floor just above theirs. Upon exiting the stairwell, they slipped into one of the halls adjacent to the main foyer. There wasn’t much going on. That was to be expected. Nobody came up to the sixth floor very often. It had been undergoing renovations for the past five months, which made it a quiet, secluded area.

That was just what they needed, but being more overly-cautious than most, Hellen made sure there was nobody looking when they arrived at the utility closet located in between the vacant bathrooms. Being responsible for keeping the office clean, she had a key and was able to unlock it, giving her and Terry access to a confined area free of witnesses and judgment.

“In here,” Hellen said, already breathless with anticipation. “We’d better hurry!”

“Would you prefer it to be quick? Or would you prefer it to be efficient?” Terry whispered into her ear from behind, his soft voice making her legs tremble again.

“I think you know which I prefer.”

As soon as the door opened, she and Terry slipped inside, having successfully evaded detection. From there, the quiet, reserved man that everyone else knew faded. The second she locked door locked and turned the light on, another persona emerged.

“It’s been one week, four days, and nine hours since our last mid-day rendezvous,” Terry said as he drew her into his embrace. “That’s a long, long time to go without knowing your intimate touch.”

“Trust me. The wait was more agonizing for me,” Hellen told him intently.

“I find that doubtful. Care to prove it?”

He was so demanding and intense, a far cry from the soft-spoken accountant that everyone knew. He spoke with a manliness of a man twice his size and a half-foot taller. It was the kind of persona that drove Hellen wild in all the right ways. It also gave her an opportunity to show that she could be more than the sweet, innocent paralegal who most ignored.

“You’re a man of hard facts and definitive proofs,” Hellen said, her voice taking on a more seductive tone. “Lucky for you, I’m a woman capable of many proofs.”

“I know. I just love seeing you do the work,” said Terry, his embrace becoming more intense.

“Trust me. I love it more than you!”

Rising to the challenge, Hellen unleashed her own naughty side. She captured his lips with hers, threw her arms around his neck, and hungrily pressed her clothed body up against his. She showed more energy in that private moment than she ever showed publicly. There was nothing meek, mild, or reserved about it. There was just raw, unfiltered passion mixed with lust.

As the kissing intensified, she began pawing his upper body, feeling over that neatly pressed suit of his. His frame might have been wiry, but she could still a very masculine strength in his muscles. It showed even more when he reached up her dress and grazed his hand over her underwear, triggering a surge of arousal that added more urgency to their touching.

“Terry…your pants,” she gasped in the midst of all the touching and kissing.

He got the message. With their lips still entwined, he undid his belt buckle and unzipped his pants. Almost immediately, Hellen dropped to his knees and eagerly aided him. In an instant, his neatly-pressed slacks dropped to the floor in a wrinkled heap. At the same time, Hellen came face-to-face with a growing bulge in those plain white boxers Terry always wore…a bulge that grew larger than most would’ve imagined.

“Wow! Talk about hard facts,” she teased.

“It helps to be thorough,” Terry said.

“Indeed,” said Hellen, “and being a paralegal, I know all about being thorough.”

Licking her lips in anticipation, shedding what remained of the shy innocence that she often exercised, she pulled down his boxers to reveal his growing manhood. In doing so, she exposed what might have been the biggest secret of Terry Rhinehart…literally and figuratively.

“Terry,” Hellen said with a mix of awe and lust, “such a handsome, hunky man.”

He gazed down at her and grinned, standing with a poise of someone at least a foot taller. He deserved to because, despite his undersized frame, Terry packed a level of male endowment that put male porn stars to shame.

He had a big dick. There was no other way of putting it. Hellen remembered how shocked she’d been when she first saw it, marveling at how a man so physically unremarkable could have such a remarkable feature. She’d been with enough men and seen enough porn to know that the dimensions of Terry’s anatomy were above average, to say the least. She’d also had enough sexual experience to know how much she loved big, hulking dicks.

Some women might have hesitated to even touch a dick that big, let alone suck or fuck it in any way. Hellen didn’t waste a second of their private time, taking the massive endowment in both hands and engulfing the tip in her soft lips.

“Mmm…this is what I want,” she purred, “my secret stud’s big, throbbing cock.”

“And you…my cute little nymph,” Terry said as he ran his fingers through her hair, “you’re the only one who can handle it.”

Hellen shot him another seductive gaze as she initiated her unique approach to oral sex. Much like her work on legal briefs, she was attentive to detail. She started slow, using her tongue to trace every intricate contour. Then, she sucked softly around the tip while stroking the shaft. That helped get Terry’s blood flowing in all the right ways. As he got harder and harder, she took more of his length into her mouth, showing off a gag reflex that most wouldn’t expect of a shy office worker who’d always dressed modestly.

“That’s it! Just like that,” Terry grunted. “Hellen…so thorough.”

Harder and faster, she sucked off her undersized stud. She took as much his massive length into her throat as her gag reflex would allow. She knew Terry had been with other women before. He’d told her more than once that none could deep-throat his massive endowment as well as her.

Beyond taking pride in those oral sex skills, it also helped get her aroused as well. It might have been a dirty cliché, her getting horny from sucking a dick. It sounded like a sordid male fantasy, but there was no denying the results. Hellen could already feel her panties getting hot and moist. Even as she stroked and sucked her lover’s cock, she rubbed her thighs together to contain the growing arousal. She knew as well as Terry she could only do so for so long.

“Terry,” she said, gasping after licking along the full length of his cock, “I’m so wet right now.”

“And we’re ahead of schedule,” he told her intently.

“Well, you know I like to be proactive.”

“That, I do.”

Not needing any further prompting, Hellen followed her escalating lust alongside that of her lover. As soon as she shot from the floor, she undid the back zipper of her dress and slid it off, along with her panties. Terry also stepped out of his pants in the process, showing a rare lack of regard for his clothes as he kicked them aside.

Now both naked from the waist down, Hellen sensed Terry’s gaze narrow on her. Showing more strength and initiative than he’d ever shown in all his years at the office, he grabbed her by the waist, turned her around, and pushed her up against the wall. He wasn’t too rough, but he wasn’t too gentle either, showing just the right amount of initiative.

As she pressed against the cold metal door, she felt Terry carefully part her legs and push up her blouse so that he had a clear path to her womanhood. Being the efficient worker he was, he wasted no time, grabbing hold of her waist and guiding the tip of his massive endowment to her wet entrance. As soon as she felt the tip rub up against her wet slit, he thrust his hips forward.

What followed was a testament to the durability of female anatomy and Hellen’s immense fondness for big, throbbing cocks.

“Oohhh Terry!” she cried out, her voice echoing loudly within the utility closet.

It was rare she could be that vocal. Usually, when they hooked up at work, they had to be discrete and quiet. Since nobody was on the sixth floor, she could afford to be a little loader. Given how much her lover stretched her insides and probed her depths, it was refreshing.

“Hellen…so wet and tight,” Terry grunted.

Through more grunts, he began moving his hips, making love to her within the confined, dingy ambience of the utility closet. It was hardly the most intimate, romantic setting. That didn’t matter. It still filled Hellen with the kind of intense, raw sensations that she craved.

It felt like a tremor that morphed into a full-fledged Earthquake, the feeling of such a long, hard cock pumping into her vagina. Terry stretched and penetrated her in ways that tested her resilience, but she relished passing those tests at every turn. With each thrust of his hips and slither of his member, he stimulated parts of her body that few women could hope to experience with a man, let alone one of Terry’s stature.

Taking such a well-endowed man was strenuous at times, often walking that fine line between pleasure and pain. Hellen, whether by kink or personal taste, loved walking that line. It perfectly fit her work ethic, enduring the strain to enjoy the rewards. Hellen liked to think she appreciated that strain more than most. The fact that it made for such great sex with a man as hung as Terry was a nice bonus.

“Yes! Oohhh yes!” she cried out. “Harder, Terry! Harder!”

Terry heeded her urgent cries, thrusting harder and faster, his bulging cock moving smoothly within her wet folds. Again, he showed power and strength that didn’t seem to match his size. That only made it more satisfying to Hellen. It showed that a strong, powerful man need not have the stature to show it. If anything, Terry’s undersized form made him work harder when it came to making love to a woman and Hellen was the direct benefactor of that work.

As they humped, swayed, and gyrated to their sensual dance, Terry supplemented his efforts by reaching around and fondling her clit. He once claimed he had calculated the exact amount of pressure necessary to bring a woman to orgasm. Hellen had long since stopped doubting that. He also reached up her shirt and felt her swaying breasts, something else he knew she loved. It helped bring her to the brink of orgasm with an efficiency that only two detail-oriented lovers could appreciate.

“Yes, Terry! Just like that! Just…like that!” Hellen gasped. “I’m almost…almost there!”

“Me too, Hellen,” he gasped. “Me…too!”

In another burst of energy, Hellen leaned up against the door even harder, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as she ventured into that special world of ecstasy. Terry reached around and kissed down her neck, still pumping into her womanhood with his cock and fondling her clit with his right hand. She could feel how close he was too with the way his massive member throbbed inside her.

He was always so courteous, letting her have her pleasure first before enjoying his own. When he sent her over the edge, Hellen made it a point to reach behind and fondle his neatly-combed hair as she let out her cry of euphoria.

“OOHHH TERRY!”

Her orgasmic cry echoed loudly throughout the confined closet. She swore the whole floor shook as he delivered the final few thrusts, sending her over the edge and into that pool of ecstasy. Had his embrace on her not been so strong, her legs would’ve buckled. Once again showing uncanny strength, he held her close as she climaxed.

Wave after wave of hot bliss coursed through her body, starting as a hot ball of fire within her core and spreading out in every direction. As her world shook, her inner muscles tightened around her lover’s massive cock, which helped send him over the edge as well. He wasn’t quite as loud when he climax. He didn’t need to be. True to his nature, he let his actions do the talking.

“Hellen…” was the most he got out.

Her body shuddered. His tensed. Together, they clung to one another as they writhed in orgasmic delight. It was a perfect harmony of ecstasy, one born by unleashing the desire and energy that they kept hidden from so many others.

Even as their hearts beat together and their flesh remained entwined, Hellen managed to turn her head just enough to capture Terry’s lips in another kiss. Through the intense desire and naked lust, a perfect dose of love always found a way into their sex. It further strengthened the balance, affirming to them a feeling that they kept so secret, but savored at every opportunity.

“I love you, Terry,” Hellen said as she caught her breath, “my quiet, soft-spoken stud.”

“I love you too,” Terry whispered into her ear, “my kinky little sex fiend.”

“You know…people think a lot of weird things about you…about us.”

“Let them think what they want. Let them see us as quiet, reserved stiffs. This…what we share in private and in secret…this is ours and no one else’s.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They shared another kiss before their bodies parted. They then collected themselves, putting their clothes back on and fixing their appearance. That always took a while, trying to make it so they didn’t look like they’d just had hot sex in a dirty closet. Terry always took longer, straightening out his shirt, tie, and slacks until they were perfect. It was tedious, but worth the effort.

As soon as they stepped out of the closet, they went back to being who everyone thought they were. They returned to a world that saw them as quiet, reserved, and unremarkable. Nobody ever would’ve expected that Terry Rhinehart was a well-hung stud or that she was a self-admitted sex fiend. Even if someone told them, they never would’ve believed it.

That was exactly how they wanted it, though. In the end, that was what made their love, their sex, and their unique tastes in intimacy so special.

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Daily Sexy Musing: First Crush

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Who doesn’t remember their first crush? I ask that question knowing that some people cringe at the memory of who they used to pine for. At the same time, there are some people who ended up marrying their first crush. Some of them are still together. For romantically-minded people, it can be both beautiful and sobering.

Growing up, I was a socially awkward kid with little confidence and an acne problem. However, that same awkwardness made the attraction I felt to girls seem more intense. I think some of it played a part in me becoming such a romance fan. That was especially true of my first crush.

I’ve talked about it before and while nothing came of it, I still remember it fondly on many levels. It marked the first time I sought to connect with someone on a level deeper than friendship. It also helped remind me that I wasn’t a kid anymore. These were mature, adult feelings. They were overwhelming and stressful, but they were also exciting and new.

Regardless of who our first crush was and what came of it, if anything, it’s often one of those pivotal moments that sticks out whenever we look back on our lives. We don’t always appreciate those moments, especially if they’re embarrassing. It’s still a major milestone. It’s the moment we start seeking love, sex, and everything that goes with it. I hope this Daily Sexy Musing makes those moments more memorable. Enjoy!

It starts with an idea.

It turns into a spark.

It grows into a flame.

It becomes a defining moment.

In my young, inexperienced mind, everything is so new and mysterious. The world seems so daunting, but my desires are so basic. I long to embrace, connect, and love. I just don’t know how or why. The child in me has become more silent. A new voice is emerging and it’s drawing me to you.

In a sea of many others, you somehow stand out. When I look at you, I don’t just see another figure navigating the boundless chaos. I see a beacon of light through dark, choppy waters. The mere sound of your voice draws me in with hypnotic allure. I don’t understand it, but I feel its power.

I’m scored, but excited.

I’m confused, but focused.

I’m lost, but driven.

This feels so strange, but it seems so right. I don’t call it love. I’m too young for that. The lingering child in me clings to a simpler understanding. Love is for mommies and daddies. It’s for children and their parents. I’m not ready for it. I don’t want to be ready. However, it’s too late.

I think I want to be with you.

I think I want to embrace you.

I think I want to love you.

Thoughts and feelings clash. Hormones and influences add fuel to the fire. Just being near you renders me short of breath. I cannot hope to process it. I have no idea how to act. I don’t even know if you feel the same.

The unknowns are many and the certainties are few. Within those select few, I realize one important truth.

I have a crush.

I know love.

No matter how overwhelming or mysterious it may feel, I like it and I hope to love it.

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Daily Sexy Musing: Stormy Night Passion

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What goes into setting up a sexy mood? The answer varies from person to person. I don’t doubt for a second that a setting I might find sexy would be a huge turn-off for others. I happen to think candle-lit comic book stores are an intimate setting. I imagine I’m in the minority in feeling that way.

However, I believe that some sexy settings have a more universal appeal. One such setting involves stormy nights. I’m not just talking about rainy days or a light drizzle at sunset. I’m talking about the kind of storms that roll in late at night and bring plenty of thunder with it.

For some, it can be scary, especially if you have pets or kids. Then again, it’s not unusual for our brains to misinterpret fear for something sexy. I can easily imagine our hunter/gatherer ancestors huddling together on a stormy night, trying to stay warm. I don’t think it would take much for that sort of scenario to get sexy.

Howling winds, pouring rain, and flashy lightning is one of nature’s most basic spectacles. It’s only fitting that such a special could trigger some of our most basic instincts as well, including the sexy ones. With that in mind, I hope this Daily Sexy Musing gives you and your lover something to contemplate the next time you’re at home on a stormy night. Enjoy!

The rain pours harder.

The wind howls faster.

The lightning flashes brighter.

The thunder echoes louder.

In the darkest hours of the night, we find ourselves in the center of a storm. There is no peaceful quiet under the night sky. Nature is at its most volatile, reminding us we are under its whim and at its mercy. Within that chaos, we huddle together closer.

Only four walls and a roof protect us from such harsh elements. A few inches of material stand between us and nature’s wrath. We can do nothing to temper it. Our only hope is to wait it out. Under darkened skies, however, hope clashes with other feelings.

Out of fear, we huddle closer.

Seeking comfort, we embrace.

Feeling restless, we offer support.

From support, we evoke another reaction.

Nature won’t let us rest. If night affords us no serenity, then why should we offer ours? The world bellows with primal forces. Why not tap into our own? Together, behind these walls, and surrounded by danger, the heavens are daring us to start a storm of our own.

We answer the call.

We shed our clothes.

We slip under the covers.

We unleash a torrent of passion.

Harder and harder, faster and faster, we make our own commotion in the latest hours of the night. Like the winds and rain outside, we are neither gentle nor peaceful. We dare to be loud and reckless, not caring what peace we may shatter. Our love is a product of nature, but our lust is the storm that helped forge it. This time, we let the storm rage.

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