Tag Archives: love

December 20, 2018 · 9:54 am

Daily Sexy Musing: Sexy Gift Giving

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This is the season of gift giving and gift exchanges. Unless you’re an inherently miserable person or the basis of Billy Bob Thorton’s best movie, it’s a wonderful time of year. I’ve always loved the holidays. As a kid, it was fun because it meant getting toys and eating candy. As an adult, it’s fun for those same reasons, but there’s also festive sex appeal that goes with it.

There have been a few points in my life where I’ve been in a relationship during the holidays. Without giving away too many intimate details, I can safely say that the spirit of gift giving did plenty to raise both my holiday spirit and that of my significant other. Sharing in gifts may seem shallow and exceedingly commercial, but it still conveys a powerful sentiment beyond the season.

It shows, among other things, just how much you care. It shows that you’re willing to put in the time and effort. All functional relationships require that kind of commitment. The holidays, when done right, can celebrate that commitment. It can even be a sexy celebration. Sometimes, being a little naughty makes everything feel extra nice in ways that only adults can appreciate.

With Christmas fast approaching, I dedicate this Daily Sexy Musing to the kinkier, more mature side of gift-giving. There will always be a place for child-like fun during this time of year, but adults can have fun too. If they can squeeze the sexy kind of fun into the mix, then that just makes the season all the more special. Enjoy!

The snow is falling.

The tree is lit.

The presents are neatly wrapped.

For children, it is the most exciting time of the year. They all sleep restlessly, eager to play with their new toys. For us, however, we share a more intimate gift. It doesn’t always involve toys, but it evokes the same excitement.

Under the light of the tree and the smell of fresh cocoa, I give to you a simple gift. It’s small, neatly wrapped, and fits easily in the palm of your hand. What it lacks in size, it makes up for in sentiment. It has to because there’s no package big enough to contain the passion I feel for you.

I watch you open it.

I see your eyes light up with the joy of a thousand children.

I know then that Santa Clause himself just got upstaged.

You throw your arms around me. I embrace you without hesitation. Your touch carries the intensity of a spirit enchanted by something beyond any holiday. It burns brighter than any star, echoing with cheer beyond any season. No one day or month can possibly contain the love we share, but that only makes the moments more festive.

In that unique spirit, we celebrate. An exchange of goods becomes an exchange of passions. We defy the long nights and winter cold, shedding thick layers of clothes in favor of the heat we create together. Every act conveys the extent of our spirit. In the light of the holidays, it offers unique paths with which to journey.

With one gift, I put my love into a tangible form.

With one gift, I tell you more than I can ever put into words.

With one gift, I inspire a year’s worth of passion.

With one gift, I celebrate the love we share.

It need not be large or smell. It just has to convey the feelings we cherish. By embracing that passion, every day we share our love feels like Christmas.

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December 18, 2018 · 6:01 am

Daily Sexy Musing: Ode To (Sexy And Non-Sexy) First Times

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When it comes to a meaningful romance, the first time often sets the tone. By that, I’m not just referring to the first time two people get naked in an intimate setting. As a fan of romance beyond the sexy themes, I believe it encompasses more than that.

There’s that first real date you go on. There’s that first kiss you share. There’s that first time when you make your lover laugh. I certainly remember my first kiss. Even though that relationship did not pan out in the long run, I’ll always treasure that memory. It was exciting and powerful in so many ways. Whether a relationship succeeds or fails, those moments stand out.

The following Daily Sexy Musing is a deeper contemplation on the idea of first times and the feelings that come with them. As novelty-seeking creatures, those feelings resonate on a profound level. They can be a critical point in an epic romance or just the catalyst for a sexy short story. Either way, the romantic and sexual potential is undeniable and worth cherishing. Enjoy!

Not long ago, you and I were total strangers. We woke up every morning, oblivious to one another’s existence. We neither hindered nor aided our respective lives. We were perfectly functional beings without each other. Then, in one fateful moment, it changes.

Now, I cannot imagine my life without you.

Now, I cannot stomach the idea of never seeing you again.

Now, I cannot stop myself from wanting you and the passions you inspire.

It happened so quickly. First, we met. It was not planned or expected. By fate or circumstance, we just happened to meet. That initial impression stuck with us. I intrigued you and you intrigued me. There was a draw between us, a gravity from which we couldn’t escape. Rather than resist, we followed this unspoken force.

Then, we had our first date. On that night, you became something more than a curiosity. You revealed yourself as the missing part of soul unaware of how broken it was. You filled a void that had always been present, but never acknowledged. You are no longer just another presence. You are so much more to me.

Then, we had our first kiss and everything changed again. In one act, I realize how much I want to be with you. From that simple gesture, I come to know how much I need you in my life. The line between want and need blurs. In you, I find fulfillment and completion.

One gesture inspires countless others.

One touch evokes an endless desire for more.

One act empowers the heart and spirit to greater heights.

Finally, we make love for the first time. Like tasting water for the first time, it transcends reason. Our hearts soar and not just from heated exertion. The excitement of new a new intimacy blends with the desire to forge a lasting bond. Together, we share this feeling. In doing so, we find out how much we like it.

That initial thrill leaves a lasting impression. Our minds and souls are now marked with the echoes of this profound experience. I feel in you an uncharted path. I see in you a long journey I wish to undertake.

Together, we take that first step.

Together, we remember that step.

For the rest of our lives, we recall our first time.

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December 15, 2018 · 8:54 am

“Naughty Nora” A Sexy Short Holiday Story

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The following is a sexy short story I wrote to help get everyone in the holiday spirit, among other things. Enjoy!

Most kids stopped believing in Santa Claus at some point. Some never believed in him to begin with. They still celebrate the spirit of Christmas, but there was nothing fanciful or supernatural about it. As adults, they see it as just another holiday, albeit one that involves elaborate decorations and gift giving.

While that shift was understandable to some extent, it came at the cost of something critical to Christmas. A key part of believing in Santa was the idea of him keeping a list, tracking who’d been naughty or nice over the course of the past year. Good kids got presents. Bad kids got a lump of coal. It was a simple, concise morality lesson that often got lost once belief in Santa ends.

Nora Rael-Nagle was among the few who’d clung to it, but for reasons that had nothing to do with childhood nostalgia.

“He’s making a list…checking it twice…gonna find out who’s naughty or nice,” Nora sang playfully. “With girls like me, you don’t need to check twice.”

As she descended the stairs of the opulent home she shared with her very wealthy husband, she hummed various holiday music to herself. It was almost midnight on Christmas Eve, a time when children were most restless. Nora was restless too, but for very different reasons.

“I still believe,” she said to herself. “I know I shouldn’t. I’m an adult woman with big tits, a round ass, and sexy legs I just can’t keep closed. I just can’t help it. I believe in you, Santa.”

Her tone was a perfect blend of childlike excitement and naughty seduction. Her demeanor had an eagerness that she reserved for just one night of the year. She even chose to be festive with her attire, wearing only a revealing red nighty and matching silk panties. She knew the big guy was watching. She wanted him to watch.

Feeling his eyes on her, Nora casually strode through the spacious halls of the opulent estate. An army of maids and butler had decorated the house with plenty of holiday attire, including a 9-foot Christmas tree in the main living room on the first floor. She’d coaxed her husband – a man nearly twice her age, but still very receptive to a beautiful woman’s allure – to go all out every year during the holidays. Being the dutiful husband he was, he obliged her. However, her reason for wanting decorations were more personal.

Upon arriving in the living room, she saw that the tree was already lit with an array of Christmas lights. That, in and of itself, was telling because she remembered turning them off before going to bed with her husband. The blinds on the windows were also closed, as if to shroud the room in a protective cloak.

That didn’t bother Nora in the slightest. After all, the true magic of Christmas often went unseen. It was still there. It just required a special kind of belief to experience it.

“You probably already know, but I’ve been naughty again, this year…very naughty,” Nora said to the empty room. “I’m still sleeping with the neighbor’s son…the one who’s engaged. I also slept with my sister’s fiancé at his bachelor party. On top of that, he didn’t even know it was me because I was wearing a wig.”

The room remained silent, the only sound coming from the cold winds outside. Nora remained undeterred, though. Now standing in front of the well-lit Christmas tree, she recounted more of her naughty deeds.

“Not everything involved me getting naked,” she went on. “This past spring, I ran over my neighbor’s dog and convinced him to blame the gardener. He got fired on the spot. I stole an $800 handbag from a store because I forgot my credit card. I lied to my parents when I said I couldn’t come home for my Aunt Marilyn’s funeral. I told them I was sick, but I was just hung over and had planned a trip to Cabo that week.”

One-by-one, she recounted a full year of misdeeds. She had a long list of confessions, full of lies, debauchery, and selfishness. She regretted plenty, but only to a point. It was hard to feel too much remorse when much of her life had been one free pass after another.

Nora didn’t deny that she’d been born ahead of the curve. In addition to having great legs, big breasts, and a healthy libido, she came from a wealthy family that pampered her to no end. They imposed few rules and fewer punishments. She gotten away with things few others could, rarely facing major consequences for her actions. The only thing her family ever wanted for her was to marry into a better family, which she did the first chance she got.

Her husband was even less restrictive, though. Nora suspected he knew about her decadent streak. That might have even been why he’d married her in the first place. He just didn’t care. Nobody cared that she was so naughty. In her world, Santa Claus was the only one who gave a damn whether someone was naughty or nice.

For reasons too kinky to make sense of, even for her, that had an effect. As a girl, it gave her a unique appreciation for Christmas. It also connected her with the spirit of the season in a unique way.

“But I don’t need to tell you all the naughty things I’ve done,” Nora said. “You already know what I’ve done. You know I don’t deserve any presents and a lump of coal just isn’t going to cut it. For someone as naughty as me, you’ll need a special kind of holiday magic.”

Again, there was only silence in response. Then, she sensed it.

The air in the room suddenly got hotter.

The lights on the Christmas tree flickered.

A strange noise echoed from the empty fireplace, which wasn’t even connected to a chimney. Nora shuddered with a new kind of excitement, one that was mostly concentrated between her legs. She swore she could hear the echo of sleigh bells outside. That convinced her that the man she’d been waiting all year for had arrived.

“Ho, ho, ho…my naughty ho!” said a booming voice.

The lights on the tree flickered again. The air around her go so hot, especially between her legs. A year’s worth of naughtiness has invited the one figure who dared to punish her for her deeds.

“Santa?” she said, still fixated on the tree.

“Turn around, Nora,” said the voice.

Nora hated being told what to do, but she gladly made an exception.

As soon as she turned, she saw an ominous white mist emerge from the fireplace. Like a cloud with a mind of its own, it quickly grew. The line between the real world and the world of magic blurred, as often happened around the holidays. Rather than fear, Nora grew excited and not just from the sight of something that defied the laws of physics.

From the misty cloud, a familiar figure took shape. The magic of the season took form and substance…a magic most didn’t believe even existed, but Nora still did. As such, the figure that appeared within the mist was every bit as real as her naughty deeds.

He appeared first as a shadow, but took human form as the mist faded. The man that appeared before her was as recognizable to her as he was to any child. He had the big red coat, the long white beard, and the iconic red hat. Most importantly, in her particular case, he bought his big red sack…a sack she knew was not full of toys.

“Every year, Nora,” he said in his jovial tone. “Every year you find your way to the top of my naughty list. You don’t even try anymore. It’s as though you enjoy being naughty.”

“What can I say, Santa?” Nora said with an innocent shrug. “I’m just an inherently naughty girl.”

“A naughty girl who insists on believing long after any child. Most don’t dare tempt the spirit of the season…especially those who knows what Santa does to those who are extra naughty.”

“The fact that I know only makes being naughty that much more tempting.”

“Then, I need not explain why you deserve what Santa is about to do to you.”

A very jolly grin formed on his face. He then dropped the big red sack in front of him. More magic followed and all Nora could do was brace herself while still trying to contain her excitement.

Like the misty cloud before it, the sack took on a life of its own, opening as though invisible hands were at work. From within the velvet-red sack, a large red bow – the kind typically placed atop large presents – floated up into the air. Then, as Santa’s jolly grin grew wider, the bow magically untied itself and shot out towards her like tendrils from an octopus.

Nora barely had a chance to react. First, one part of the bow wrapped itself around her wrists, bounding them tightly and pulling her arms up over her head. After that, the other end of the bow removed her nighty and pulled down her panties, rendering her completely naked before the big jolly icon of Christmas.

“Ho, ho!” Santa laughed. “I can see why you’re so tempted, Nora. With a bosom and buttocks like yours, naughtiness tends to find you.”

“You have no idea, Santa,” Nora said.

“Ah, but I do! Remember, I check my list twice.”

As if to affirm how well he knew her, he waved his hand and the bow stream reacted. Her hands and wrists still bound, the stream swirled around her body before wrapping itself around her arms and legs, tightening its hold on her. Eventually, her hands ended up being her back, but her breasts and inner thighs remained exposed.

It happened so quickly, utilizing forces that only came around once a year. It still took Nora aback, but in a way that excited and aroused her. For every other day of the year, she was the one who tied up others and bent them to her will. Her beauty, her family ties, and her wealth gave her so much leverage over others. Everybody was just too afraid to subdue her so completely and dominate her.

None of that applied to Santa Claus, though. Armed with the magic of Christmas and a complete knowledge of her naughty deeds, he was the only man who could make her submit. Like the holiday season itself, the fact that it was so rare made it so special.

“Naughty girls often learn their lesson once I give them their lumps of coal,” Santa said. “For those who grow up to become naughty women, I must use other means to dissuade their misdeeds.”

“Do they work?” Nora teased seductively.

“For the few who still believe in the magic of Christmas, it gets the point across. For cases such as you, Nora…well, sometimes naughtiness can only be tempered with a special kind of spirit.”

With another hand gesture, the large red bow that remained wrapped around her naked body came to life again, applying force like a dozen hands pushing on her. It quickly forced her down onto her knees, a position she’d been in many times over the course of the past year. However, she’d never been in that position on someone else’s terms.

Still secure in his festive hold on her, Santa approached her, his portly form casting a large shadow. Upon reaching her, he undid his large black belt buckle and dropped his red pants to the floor, revealing a huge, jolly endowment that was perfectly proportional to his jovial size.

“Fuck! That spirit does wonders for your dick,” Nora said. “It’s even bigger than it was last year!”

“Such naughty language from such a naughty girl,” said Santa. “I say we wash that mouth of yours out with some Christmas joy!”

Whether by magic or the presence of a naked woman bound by holiday streamers, the jolly old man’s member began stiffening almost instantly. As it grew before her eyes, he grasped her chin with one hand and guided his dick to her mouth. Being the naughty girl she was, Nora eagerly opened her mouth and awaited Santa’s joy.

He delivered, as only Santa Clause could, thrusting his festive endowment into her mouth. It tested both her reflexes and her jaw muscles, more so than the many other men she’d blown over the years. Nora embraced the strain, though. Being such a naughty girl, she deserved it. Once she had his jolly cock in her mouth, she began sucking it with some holiday spirit of her own.

“Ho, ho, ho!” said Santa. “It’s a miracle! A naughty girl’s deeds becomes so nice!”

The spirit of the season was fully stoked, so to speak. With one hand still gripping her head, he guided the pace of her oral sex. Back and forth, her head rocked as her lips slithered along the length of Santa’s manhood. With each movement, his member swelled, becoming larger and more erect. It further strained her jaw muscles, but Nora kept sucking like the good naughty girl she was.

Being bound left her so vulnerable, having to cater to the whims of the jolly fat man in front of her. Something about that feeling – confronting her lurid behavior, accepting punishment from one who could subdue her so easily – just seemed so fitting. Having rarely experienced it during other times of the year, it made Christmas that much more exciting. Along with that excitement came arousal. The longer she sucked Santa’s cock, the wetter her pussy became.

As her arousal escalated, Santa’s became exceedingly jolly. His grip on her head intensified. She could tell by the way his massive member twitched inside her mouth that he was close. Being so naughty, he didn’t even warn her when he released his festive load into her throat. A load of thick manly fluid – which, fittingly enough, had a peppermint-flavored aftertaste – shot right into her gullet.

“That’s the spirit, Nora! Taste Santa’s joy!” Santa said with extra jolliness.

Nora did what the big man asked, licking up every drop. When he pulled out, finally allowing her to catch her breath, she gasped sharply. Traces of seminal fluid still dropped down her chin, but she remained very spirited. Looking up at Santa, his erect dick still hovering around her face, she flashed another naughty smile.

“Mmm…my favorite Christmas treat,” Nora said in a festive daze. “Am I back on the nice list, yet?”

“Ho, ho! Far from it, Nora,” Santa laughed. “For once such as you, I must impart some extra Christmas spirit.”

With another wave of his hand, the bow streams still wrapped around her body went to work again, putting her in another position with which to receive Santa’s special gift to naughty girls. She was moved around like a rag doll, the bow stream pushing her legs apart in the process. She eventually ended up on her hands and knees, her heart-shaped butt pointed up at the jolly old like a perfectly-wrapped present.

“I see the spirit has already affected parts of your body, Nora,” Santa said, “but for one such as you, I must employ the full magic of the North Pole.”

“Yes! Please, Santa…fill me with that pole,” Nora gasped.

He laughed jovially again, her naughty tone encouraging him even more. The bow streams pushed her legs apart even more as Santa’s gloved hand grabbed hold of her hips. Then, as she remained bound on all force, he guided his still-erect member towards her wet entrance and thrust it into her feminine depths.

A chorus of naughty and nice moans echoed throughout the room. Nora, her arms still tied behind her back, could only bury half her face into the soft rug, feeling her world rock under the light of the Christmas tree. Santa’s hard, jovial flesh slithered within her folds, sending surges of intoxicating sensations throughout her body.

“Oohhh, Santa!” Nora exclaimed. “That’s it! I’m naughty! So fucking naughty!”

“Ho, ho, ho! Yes, Nora! Yes, you are!” Santa said as he rocked her body with every movement.

He dominated her body and spirit so thoroughly. It was as though the weight of her naughtiness helped weigh her down, unable to use the influence of her husband’s wealth or the beauty she so effectively wielded. She was a naughty woman and Santa did not overlook that naughtiness, nor did she want him to.

Being dominated and bound, at the mercy of a jolly old man and his magic, was a special feeling. Between the size of his endowment and the holiday spirit that supplemented every movement, the pleasure felt uniquely festive.

“Santa! I feel…the spirit…coming!” Nora cried out with increasing fervor.

“Of course you do, Nora! Of course you do!” Santa laughed.

The red streams that had bound her body tightened, as if to keep her hold her in place for her coming release. It hit her like a Christmas miracle, a powerful orgasm that rendered her paralyzed with pleasure. It was like the spirit of the season possessing her, turning all that naughty behavior against her for one powerful moment.

“Oohhh Santa!” she exclaimed with a cry that echoed all the way to the North Pole.

Her body shuddered, her back arching and her toes curling under the onslaught of ecstasy. It rendered her even more enchanted by Santa’s magic. At that point, she might as well have been drunk on the sweetest fruits of the holiday.

“More cheer, Nora! A naught girl needs more cheer!” he said to her.

Even as her body trembled from orgasmic bliss, Santa continued ravaging her with his spirit-laden Christmas. He kept rocking her body, working his big old candy cane within her depths. The bliss that followed just sent her deeper into a holiday daze. Nora wasn’t sure how many times she came after that. She just knew that she remained at the mercy of Santa’s holiday prowess.

The streams around her body kept her in place, shifting her occasionally so Santa could ravage her from as many angles as he desired. He was as thorough as he was with his list, hitting every sensitive spot within her once and then hitting it twice for good measure. For such a big man, he had such miraculous stamina. It helped him build towards the ultimate Christmas miracle.

“Santa is ready, Nora!” he said with a beaming grin. “Prepare to be filled with true spirit!”

“Yes, Santa!” Nora exclaimed. “Fill me up! Fill me…with your…spirit!”

The big man used his size and weigh to his full advantage, delivering the last few round of gifted thrusts before crossing the final threshold. Upon reaching is North Pole, so to speak, he let out one more round of joyous laughter as he filled her with his holiday cum. Like the season itself, it had a unique flavor that filled her with a special kind of warmth.

Just as before, he made sure to inject every last drop. A girl as naughty as her needed all the spirit he could offer. Once the miracle was complete, the jolly old man withdrew his festive member from her and pulled up his pants.

“Your punishment is complete, naughty Nora. Do you feel true meaning of Christmas within you now?”

“Yeah…among other things,” she replied playfully.

“Then, my delivery is complete!”

With a jovial grin, he waved his hand again and the red bow that had kept her restrained magically untied itself, unbounding her wrists and legs from its grasps. Then, the bow magically re-tied itself before turning to Santa’s big red sack. Still grinning, he hitched the sack over his shoulder and gave the still-naked Nora one last glance.

Nora, still lying on the floor, drunk on Santa’s holiday magic, just looked up and smiled back. He knew how naughty she was. She knew how naughty she had to make his list every year. For someone like her, a beautiful rich woman who rarely gets punished for her behavior, she needed someone to punish her naughty behavior. She needed someone to subdue her without fear or hesitation. She needed someone to inspire her spirit in a unique way.

Who better to do all of that than Santa Claus? Giving gifts to good children did plenty to enhance the spirit of Christmas. Punishing naughty women like her just helped supplement the magic of the season.

“Merry Christmas, Nora. May you nice next year as you were naughty this year,” said Santa as the mist from earlier consumed him.

“You and I both know that’s not going to happen, Santa,” Nora said. “Being naughty just feels too nice.”

“Ho, ho, ho!” he laughed as he disappeared into the mist. “That, my dear, is part of the holiday spirit. Whether you’re naughty or nice, you still get the gift you deserve.”

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December 13, 2018 · 6:43 am

Daily Sexy Musing: Ode To Sexy Art

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Art is one of those eclectic concepts that means so many things. For one person, it’s the ugly finger-paintings kids do in pre-school. For another, it’s a sculpture of Elvis made out of Ramen noodles. When it comes to sexy art, however, the ideas are a bit more concise. Like any other kink, it’s one of those things you know when you feel.

I may not be able to draw worth a damn, but I know plenty about using artistic skills to capture elements of sex appeal. I do it in my novels and in my sexy short stories. I’ve always had a way with words, using them to convey all sorts of colorful ideas, especially the sexy kind. That skill is even responsible for some of the serious romantic relationships I’ve had in my life.

While I utilize the written word, others tap different skills. Some are much better at it than others. You don’t have to look far to find art with overtly sexual imagery or undertones. Sometimes, it’s barely distinguishable from porn. Other times, though, it can be sexy in a wholly unique way. That’s the kind of art that leaves a hell of an impression.

The following Daily Sexy Musing is a celebration of the sexy side of art and the wondrous effects it has on all of us. It’s not always enough to just see someone else naked and let that be the sole manifestation of sensual imagery. There’s plenty of room for creativity of all kinds. I intend to do my part and I trust plenty of other skilled artists out there to do the same. Enjoy!

The world outside our window is so static and cold, changing only with the time of day and the direction of the winds. It is untouched by imagination, governed by strict rules that can neither be bent nor broken. Lacking color and passion, there’s room for so much more. It’s up to us to forge it.

I am your artist.

You are my canvas.

Our passion is the inspiration.

From it, imagination both loving and lurid roams free.

We coordinate in a process, one that requires tools and mediums to make our vision real. We assemble them in once place. On their own, they are nothing more than means to an end. As artists, we can control both.

Our minds explore boundless possibilities. From that treasure trove of thought, one goal emerges. We must turn our love from a powerful feeling into something tangible. Whether it’s a picture, a sculpture, or a sequence of words, the immaterial essence that is our love must become real. That, we believe, is art worth treasuring.

Maybe it’s a portrait, one that depicts our bodies entwined.

Maybe it’s a poem, one that describes our love through a tapestry of words.

Maybe it’s a symbol, one that we make our own and share with a passionless world.

There are so many choices, but only a few are fit for creation. Just thinking about it feels like an arduous journey in which the end is our own to forge. It’s overwhelming, but exciting. We don’t know where to begin or where it will end. That doesn’t matter, though. All that matters is the passion put into it.

From the whims of emotion and imagination, we decide on our path. In our minds, the perfect manifestation of our love appears as clear as the morning sun. Every detail becomes clear. Thought becomes vision. All that remains is to make it real through an artist’s hands.

Together, we craft something that will transcend our bodies and minds.

Together, we create a masterpiece that perfectly captures our love.

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December 11, 2018 · 6:06 am

Daily Sexy Musing: Road Trips

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For some people, a road trip is a test of endurance and back muscles. I consider myself among those people. I’ve never cared much for road trips. I consider any car ride over two hours to be a chore. As a result, I don’t find much sex appeal in road trips.

That said, I don’t deny that there are some who do. I’m even related to a few of them. I can see it in them, even when they don’t state it overtly. There’s something inherently appealing about venturing down long roads to distant places, getting away from the tedium of their everyday lives. For them, there is real appeal in a road trip and some of it is sexy.

One of my roommates in college took it to another level. He owned a motorcycle and he once joked about how much long rides made his girlfriend horny. It’s also worth noting that this roommate was terrible at telling jokes and carried himself with the subtlety of a bullhorn, especially when his girlfriend was involved.

Even though road trips don’t appeal to me, I can certainly appreciate those who feel otherwise. For the purposes of today’s Daily Sexy Musing, I’d like to channel the spirit of my former roommate and his girlfriend in tapping the joys of a road trip. Some people need to just get away. Why not make it sexy as hell?

It’s the middle of the day. We’ve had a long week. Every hour has been 60 minutes of toil. Just coming home isn’t enough anymore. Our home has become nothing more than a pit stop in our daily regimen. It can no longer soothe our frayed nerves or nurture our shared passions. We must get away.

On a whim, we make a fateful decision. We abandon our current plans, shove aside our reservations, and just act without thinking. We cannot escape our lives, but we can seek new excitement. We need only let go of the shackles that keep us in place.

I take your hand.

You hold it tightly.

We enter the car and we start driving.

There’s no destination in mind. There’s no itinerary to maintain or schedule to keep. The only direction that matters is the one that takes us away from work and responsibilities. With every mile traveled, the air gets cleaner. Every breath feels fresher, like a weight from our souls has finally faltered.

Farther and farther, I take us into the unknown. The roads become less familiar and the scenery becomes more exotic. We’re not far from home, but we might as well be in another time zone. Everything feels so new and fresh, a world of beauty hiding in plain sight.

I look over at you. I see you smile with the brilliance of a thousand suns. The thrill of the road and the reprieve from the familiar is liberating. Beyond your smile, though, I see more than just exhilaration. You have that glint in your eye, one that hints at something other than relief.

I pull the car over into an unfamiliar place.

I park in a secluded area away from prying eyes.

I welcome you into my embrace and you lovingly accept.

In the confined space of a car, we smother one another with free passions. We don’t just kiss. We entwine our tongues like two snakes in heat, wildly slithering in an open field. Clothes become too tight. Flesh becomes too hot. In the freedom granted by the road, we rediscover our love and make it for this new world to see.

It is only a brief trip, but we reach our destination.

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December 8, 2018 · 9:16 am

Daily Sexy Musing: The Joy (And Danger) Of Thrill Sex

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Thrill sex is one of those kinky, yet subjective aspects of romance. What counts as thrilling for some may seem mundane to others. Some couples consider sex in a moving car on a busy highway as thrilling. Others consider sex outside a police station in broad daylight as thrilling. Both can get the job done. One just carries more risk/danger than others.

When I was in high school, the pinnacle of thrill sex involved couples who did it in their parents’ bedroom while they were home. I can see how that would be thrilling to hormonal teenagers, but it’s one of those situational thrills that depends heavily on circumstance. Some parents may get incensed by the idea. Some may end up reacting with shotguns.

As subjective it can be, thrill sex is one of those special manifestations of intimacy that even non-romantics can appreciate. It doesn’t have to be overtly dangerous. It just has to mix things up in a way that carries risk beyond strangers seeing your genitals. The following Daily Sexy Musing is a celebration of the diverse appeal of thrill sex. For all those adventurous couples out there, I hope it gives you some ideas. Enjoy!

When I’m around you, I want you. I crave your loving, intimate touch. It’s not just a desire. It’s a need, as necessary as air or food. I can tell you want me too. I can feel it every time your gaze undresses me wholly.

Most of the time, we manage that urge. However, there are times when it cannot be managed, nor should it. Within those moments, a private dwelling and a warm bed aren’t always available. Sometimes, they’re not even sufficient. These are the times when we need something more.

To hell with closed doors.

To hell with safe domains.

To hell with modest restraint.

To hell with anything that dare hides our passion.

I take your hand and you take mine. Together, we seek a setting fraught with risk and danger. The thought, alone, gets our hearts racing. The rush mixes with desire, every lurid inclination amplified like gasoline on a fire. As the need burns hotter, our effort grows bolder.

Maybe we’ll do it in the bathroom of an airplane as it flies over an ocean.

Maybe we’ll do it near the edge of a cliff overlooking a canyon.

Maybe we’ll do it in the woods where hungry animals dwell.

Maybe we’ll do it in your father’s garage while he’s cleaning his guns.

It doesn’t matter where, when, or how. I want you so much. I seek to demonstrate that love, physically and passionately. I don’t care if the whole world sees us in our lurid glory. I want everyone to know the breadth of our love. I want them to marvel and gasp at how well we express it.

The danger doesn’t dissuade us. If anything, it further excites us. Clothes become a burden. Flesh becomes hot with urgency. We seek out that which repels lovers less bold than us. We pity the limits of their passion while celebrating our own.

Finally, we find that special place.

We secure that special moment.

We’re surrounded by danger, inviting great embarrassment and real harm. We don’t care. Our love and passion overshadows all of that.

From that great risk comes greater reward. In that moment of palpable peril, our love becomes more than love. It becomes a true thrill.

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December 6, 2018 · 5:44 am

Daily Sexy Musing: Ode Sexy Doctors

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Doctors are sexy on a fundamental level. I think most people agree with that to some extent. Men are drawn to sexy nurses. Women are drawn the smart, charismatic doctors that George Clooney and Hugh Laurie helped make famous. It’s not just some niche genre for porn or romance novels. There’s genuine sensual undertones to someone who heals others.

I believe it predates George Clooney. Go back to any point in history. If you had the skills and knowledge to heal someone, then you didn’t just provide a valuable service to your community. You had something that made you genuinely attractive. Someone who can heal and treat illness is objectively useful. Being useful is the first step towards being sexy.

Doctors, regardless of gender, are capable of eliciting all sorts of emotions from people. When we’re sick, we’re at our most vulnerable. We trust in our doctors to treat us and heal us. That kind of trust can take on some very intimate connotations. It can even lead to the famous Florence Nightingale trope where patients and doctors fall in love.

Given how our health and survival are so closely linked, we’re always going to have a more intimate connection with those who can heal us. The following Daily Sexy Musing is an ode to those uniquely intimate feelings we have towards those who tend to us when we’re ill. Enjoy!

My body failed me. I am at its mercy, weighed down by pain, fatigue, and weakness. I’m not just ill. I am vulnerable. I have the will to survive, but not the strength. I fight to overcome, but it’s not enough. I need a healing hand. Specifically, I need your loving touch.

You heed my call.

You come to my aid.

You console my wounded state.

Like an angel answering a prayer, you impart your skill unto me.

As I lay sick and suffering, you work your healing magic, tending to me and treating me. You describe my ailment with such knowledge and certainty, speaking a language that only a select few understand. It’s like you see beyond the surface of my flesh, finding the flaws and fixing them.

You brave pained cries and foul moods, undeterred by disease and distress. Instead of aversion, you feel compassion. Your heart is strong and your spirit is stronger. You don’t just confront the death and disease that attacks life on all sides. You fight it head on.

In that battle, you slay the beast.

Through that struggle, I am healed.

From my weakest moment, I regain my strength.

For that, I am in your debt. However, I seek more than simply repayment. You understand what it means to heal, but underestimate the greater effect. I was at your mercy. I was at the mercy of everyone and everything around me. You could’ve done anything to me and I would’ve been helpless.

Even so, you healed me.

Even so, you comforted me.

Of all the things you could’ve done, you did what was best for me.

Now, thanks to you, my spirit and my vigor have returned. In you, I see a compassionate heart and a capable soul. Around you, I don’t just feel safe. I feel stronger. With you, I want to share that strength. My body, now free of illness, is ready to connect once more.

You came to me when I was weak.

Now, I come to you when I’m strong.

Together, we celebrate our health.

Our hearts beat together. Our bodies become entwined. You are my doctor, the keeper of my health. I am your patient, the catalyst for your soul. As one, the spark of life burns brightest.

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December 5, 2018 · 5:12 am

The Stigma Of Being Single (Especially If You’re A Man)

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Picture, for a moment, a single woman in her mid-30s with no kids. What’s the image that comes to mind? For most people, especially those who watch sitcoms or have seen one episode of “Sex In The City,” a certain narrative plays out that helps shape that picture.

The woman is probably not a supermodel, nor could she be mistaken for Sarah Jessica Parker. She probably has a stable career. She probably has her own money, a tight social circle, and a fair amount of independence. She likely has a few hobbies and passions outside her career. Even if she isn’t in a relationship, it’s easy to imagine her being happy with her situation.

The fact that she’s single wouldn’t raise many red flags. That said, there are some stigmas associated with being single at a certain age for women. There’s still this misguided notion that women who are single at that age have somehow come up short in life. Every woman has different reasons for being single. By and large, though, we tend to have sympathy for women who stay single.

Now, picture a single man in his mid-30s with no kids. What image comes to mind in that instance? Chances are it’s not the same as that picture you imagined of a single woman. A single man in his mid-30s probably won’t inspire mental pictures of Channing Tatum. Hell, it probably won’t even inspire pictures of Jonah Hill.

A single man in his mid-30s with no kids will likely raise more red flags than the woman. It’s not just that the man is struggling to forge a meaningful relationship. He’s not just unlucky in love. There’s something wrong with him. A man like that must be a creep to some extent. He must have some sort of shortcoming or deficiency that repulses the opposite sex.

Maybe he has unhealthy hobbies.

Maybe he has a short temper and abusive tendencies.

Maybe he’s just a lazy slob who doesn’t even try.

It’s still entirely possible that a single man in his 30s is just content being single. He doesn’t feel inclined to pursue a relationship at the moment. He’s healthy, relatively attractive, and contributes positively to society. He’s not opposed to being in a relationship, but not just for the sake of being with someone.

No matter how common that possibility is, though, that’s probably not the first assumption you would make if all you knew about a man was that he’s over 30 and single. Even though marriage rates are declining, there’s still a stigma associated with being single beyond a certain age. It exists for women and men, but the stigma is more pronounced for men.

There’s no getting around it. A single man in his mid-30s is going to evoke a different reaction. It’s not a double standard like some of the others I’ve cited. It’s just the byproduct of different expectations and assumptions. I know this better than most because I’m a single man in my mid-30s with no kids and I’ve witnessed some of these reactions.

It’s subtle, but noticeable. When I tell someone I’m single and in my 30s, I get this weird look. If the person doesn’t know me very well, I get the sense they’re a little concerned. Once they learn that about me, I suspect they think that’s creepy or odd. There have been times when I’ve seen people, mostly women, get uncomfortable when they learn I’m over 30 and single.

There was even one instance where a woman at a store asked if I was gay. That really caught me off-guard, but it was the first time when I really felt the stigma of being single. I laughed it off at the time and so did the woman. However, when I later recalled the incident, I felt genuinely anxious about my status. I worry that it will undermine my ability to find love in the future.

I’ve even seen it among relatives. While most of my family don’t make a big deal out of it, there are a few who express concern about me. They see my age and my relationship status as a problem to be solved. I can understand that sentiment. I even appreciate it because I know it comes from sincere concern. Even so, I still feel the stigma on some levels.

I know I’m not alone in that. As much progress as we’ve made in society, with respect to tolerating non-traditional relationships, there’s still this over-arching sentiment that being single is a deficiency. It’s not so much a choice as it is an excuse. When it’s less subtle, it can be downright demeaning. It takes many forms, but often carries similar themes.

Your standards are too high.

You’re not a desirable companion.

You’re too high-maintenance and clingy.

You’re past your prime.

You’ve got little to offer.

I’ve seen this levied at women and men. I know women who get very combative when someone tries to figure out why they’re not in a relationship after a certain age. I honestly don’t blame them, but I’ve seen those same women get plenty of sympathy. Even when they make excuses, men and women alike will offer them support when they need it.

As a man, though, I feel like I can’t get away with that. If I were as apprehensive as some of the women I’ve known, I wouldn’t get a lick of sympathy. If anything, I would be scorned. Men would look down at me as desperate and whiny. Woman would look down on me as pathetic and weak. None of those traits warrant much sympathy or support.

On some levels, I  understand why being single is stigmatized. For society to grow, it needs people to get together, forge close society bonds, and creature stable families. People who remain single aren’t contributing to that growth and stigma is just one way of incentivizing them to try harder, even if it creates distressing taboos.

I can also understand why the stigma is more pronounced in men. Like it or not, men tend to commit more crime. Men who lack the influence of a stabilizing relationship tend to cause more deviance and there’s even some research to back that up. It’s one of those instances where a particular prejudice has some statistics behind it.

However, statistics rarely tell the entire story. More often than not, they leave out critical details. In my case, the primary factor that has influenced my single status is a desire not to be with someone just for the sake of being with someone. I’ve seen more than one person fall into the trap of being with someone who is totally wrong for them, but stays with them to avoid being single.

I don’t want that for myself. I want any relationship I have, be it romantic or platonic, to be for the right reasons. Being single hasn’t made me feel more inclined to commit crime or do something deviant. It’s a reasonable choice that I made for myself and I don’t regret it. That doesn’t make it any less frustrating when other people make misguided assumptions about why I’m single.

I’ve met women who’ve made similar choices. I’ve also known plenty more who are single for different, but understandable reasons. They’re not selfish predators who are just holding out to marry a prince who will love them, cater to their every need, and be their personal pocketbook. There are women like that, but they’re the annoyingly loud exception and not the norm.

When it comes to being single, the lingering stigma feels like a very small battle in a much larger war involving gender, society, and politics. As a self-professed romantic, I’m all for encouraging people to find love and forge relationship. It’s a beautiful thing and I feel like that same stigma undermines the beauty.

On top of that, it shoves yet another wedge between men and women when we already have too many of those. We’ve steadily moved away from the notion that an unmarried woman at a certain age must either be a widow, a prostitute, or a nun. There’s still room for improvement, but we’re steadily making progress in empowering people to find their way, regardless of whether they’re single.

At the same time, a man remaining single is not prone to as much scrutiny as we’ve seen in in the past. There are still assumptions and anxieties that are uniquely associated with single men. Regardless of whether single men or single women have it worse, I feel as though one part of the stigma is being addressed while the other is being overlooked.

Like it or not, this is going to be an increasingly relevant issue. As women stay single for longer, there are going to be more single men. That’s just basic math. The desire to find someone special won’t go away anytime soon. The stigma is just making it more difficult and a lot less romantic.

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December 4, 2018 · 5:57 am

Daily Sexy Musing: Handyman Sex Appeal

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Let’s face it. No matter how many high-tech gadgets we have in our lives, they’re going to break at some point. Whether it’s our cell phones or our toilets, it’s inevitable. Things break, no matter how complicated or simple they are. That just makes the people who repair them an integral part of our lives.

They often go overlooked and underappreciated. However, whenever something we value stops working, we depend on them to get the job done. When the eventually do fix something for us, we’re not just relieved. We’re astonished by them. Sometimes, that astonishment can have a very sensual connotation.

I’ve seen this happen more than once. Women see a man who can fix things and they find that genuinely attractive. Some may call it shallow, being attracted to someone on the basis of what they can do for them. That doesn’t make the feeling less real. It can get pretty intense too. When someone does something that inherently valuable for you, a part of you is going to want to thank them in a way beyond paying a repair bill.

The following Daily Sexy Musing is a testament to the handymen and handywomen who keep our complicated world working. Their sex appeal is underrated and worth celebrating. Think of that the next time you need something fixed. That person who can fix it for you might just end up being the sexiest person in the world. Enjoy!

Something breaks.

My world stops.

I try and a I fail to remedy it.

Then, I call you and you respond. I watch as you toil with things I cannot comprehend, tweaking and tinkering in ways I do not dare. You get down on your knees. You get your hands, face, and body so dirty. I feel dirty just watching you, but in the best possible way.

You speak with such knowledge and insight. You give me answers that seemed so distant. I learn from you what I did wrong or didn’t know to do in the first place. It’s humbling. Under your expertise, I feel smaller. As you speak, I feel like I’m looking up at a titan, one with the knowledge and skill to right the wrongs in my world.

These things that I rely on are my weakest link. Your ability to fix them turns that weakness into a strength. With you, I am no longer vulnerable. Together, we are equipped to use the best tools to overcome the greatest challenges. To be with you is to be so much more than my resources.

I have things you don’t have.

You have skills I don’t possess.

Together, we have it all.

When the work is done, the burden is lifted. My world continues, but it’s not enough to go back to the way things were. I seek to make things better and more robust. For that, I need your expertise. For you, I’m willing to offer my heart and so much more.

I reach out to you, not minding the dirt and toil still clinging to your hands. I embrace you, not minding the sweat and grime that your hard work has compiled. If anything, it excites me. Your skill with those hands makes me want to share some skills of my own. Driven by gratitude and grace, I have every incentive to get the job done, just like you.

You fixed my things.

I welcome you into my world.

Together, we forge an unbreakable passion.

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December 1, 2018 · 10:00 am

“Wake-Up Call” A Sexy Short Story

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The following is a sexy short story I wrote about waking up in the morning in the best possible way. Enjoy!

“Hey Rachel! Are you awake yet?” asked a humored, but restless Dan Ayan.

He got no response. He didn’t expect one, either. Rachel, his wife of the past two years, just laid there comfortably in bed, snoring lightly as though the morning sun weren’t blaring through the window. It always amazed him, her ability to sleep so heavily after getting to bed so late, but he’d come to appreciate it over the years.

“Out like a light on a Wednesday morning,” Dan said, shaking his head. “You just love making this difficult for me, don’t you?”

Again, she didn’t respond. He thought he knew what it meant to be a heavy sleeper. Rachel raised the bar for all of them.

He’d known that about her since they started dating back in college. Her reputation for deep sleep was the stuff of legend. Her old roommate once said she slept through a fire drill and through an actual fire when a neighbor set a couch on fire. Her brother claimed she’d slept through her car alarm going off at five in the morning during a thunderstorm, which got her in trouble with the neighbors.

Dan didn’t doubt any of those stories, even if they were exaggerated. Rachel even warned him about that on their second date. He didn’t think it would be that big a deal as their relationship evolved. He’d since learned that dealing with her heavy sleeping habits meant adapting in creative ways.

“Fine,” Dan said. “You’re not going to get up in time for work? I’ll just have to take drastic measures.”

Feeling extra bold, having already had his morning cup of coffee, Dan crawled up onto the king-sized bed they shared and stealthily pulled back the covers. Even though part of it had been under her arms, Rachel still didn’t wake up. The blaring sunlight coming in through the windows illuminated the red nightie she wore the previous night. It also revealed that she wasn’t wearing any panties.

“You sneaky little minx, you,” he chuckled. “You probably planned this.”

That might have been half-true. It wasn’t unusual for Rachel to ditch panties when she slept, especially during the summer. She’d also worked late yesterday and might have just forgot to wear them. He didn’t always remember to wear underwear when he came home late, but he knew his wife well enough to sense when she went out of her way to forget.

“Okay then,” Dan said, licking his lips in anticipation. “If that’s the wake-up call you want, this morning…so be it.”

Being the considerate, caring husband he was, Dan shed his bathrobe and positioned himself just under his sleeping wife. Like an animal sneaking up on its prey, he inched his way closer to her exposed womanhood that her nighty so poorly hid. As soon as he got close enough to smell its heavenly scent, Dan went to rousing her from her deep slumber.

He was subtle at first, using his soft fingers to lightly stroke the outer folds of her crevice. Having come to know her anatomy so well, he slipped a finger into her vagina while lightly rubbing her clit. That finally got her to stir somewhat, but she remained fast asleep. That meant he had to step up his efforts.

More than willing to rise to the challenge – and on a weekday, no less – he leaned in closer and guided his tongue over her outer womanhood. Then, with one finger still on her clit, he took the proverbial plunge and tasted her tender flesh.

Finally, Rachel emerged from her deep sleep.

“Ooh!” she moaned. “Oh yeah!”

“Good morning sunshine,” Dan said through a muffled voice.

He further roused her by probing deeper, pushing his tongue into the wet recesses of her pussy. He made it a point to stimulate those well-hidden nerves that were so hard to reach, getting an even deeper whiff of her womanly heat in the process. It was almost as intoxicating as a morning cup of coffee, but much more rewarding.

“Oohhh! Good morning, indeed!” she cooed.

She didn’t sound that drowsy anymore, but her body still got ahead of her mind. As Dan continued his oral teasing, Rachel rolled from her side and onto her back. She then spread her legs widely, hitching them over his shoulders so that he had unobstructed access to her lower anatomy. He made good use of it, holding onto her thighs as he worked his tongue with greater intensity.

More moans followed, the kind that affirmed she was fully awake. That had been his goal, getting her out of bed before she slept in too late on a weekday. However, between his morning cup of coffee and the taste of his love’s pussy, Dan soon found himself getting aroused. Being a morning person, he experienced more “morning wood” than most men. It used to be a nuisance. Since he’d been with Rachel, it proved quite useful.

“Glad you’re awake,” Dan said, briefly looking up from her inner thighs. “If you want, I could let you get ready. Or if you need more rousing…”

Rachel didn’t let him finish. She already had that glint in her eye that let him know how their morning would play out.

“Don’t stop, Dan,” she said intently. “You know what I need…and I know what you need too.”

Showing the kind of certainty and sex appeal that shouldn’t have been possible so early on a Wednesday morning, Rachel rose up and shed her nighty, revealing those perky breasts of hers that Dan loved to admire. Then, her naked body glowing beautifully in the morning sun, she pulled him up and kissed him passionately, not even minding the trace of feminine juices dripping down his face.

Her capacity for horniness so early in the morning never ceased to astonish him. If there were a female equivalent to morning wood, Rachel definitely had it. She must have had some extra-naughty dreams too because her eagerness for a more intimate wake-up call left her very aroused. Already feeling excessive tightness in his briefs, Dan shed his underwear and got on top of her.

“Still drowsy, Mrs. Ayan?” he teased.

“Well, Mr. Ayan, I haven’t had my coffee yet,” she joked, “but a little dick will certainly help!”

With a playful grin, Dan gave her the extensive wake-up call she needed. Still holding onto her thighs, he positioned himself over her, his erect cock aligned with her moist entrance. He could feel the extent of her arousal as he rubbed the tip up against her outer folds. Ignoring the prospect of being late for work, he thrust his hips forward and entered his wife’s waiting depths. Under the warmth of the morning sun, they began making love.

“Oh Dan!” Rachel moaned. “That…that helps! That helps a lot!”

“Mmm…speak for yourself,” he quipped in a deep, manly tone.

His knees and feet dug into the bed as he worked his dick inside her, humping her in that steady, thorough rhythm he knew she loved. Rachel was the kind of woman who liked it rough on some occasions and gentle in others. For an early-morning wake-up call, a little of both was necessary.

Dan eagerly delivered, soaking in that warm, intimate feeling of hot sex with his wife. Their naked bodies moved and grinded together, his pelvis smacking against hers after each thrust. Rachel did her part as well, holding onto his shoulders and pulling him into a passionate kiss. Moans and grunts filled the room, all traces of grogginess replaced with pure bliss.

Following the pleasure and passion, Dan stepped up the pace, working his member harder and faster within his lover’s depths. He felt her inner muscles tighten harder with every motion, her gasps becoming more vocal as well. It was almost funny. A few minutes ago, she was fast asleep. Now, she was on the brink of orgasm.

“I’m close, Dan!” she gasped, her chin digging into his shoulder. “I’m so…so close.”

“Might as well get an early start,” he said with a manly grin.

Burying his face in her neck, Dan maintained the heated pace of lovemaking. He tightened his grip on her hips, giving them a firm squeeze as he pushed her to the brink. After a few more thorough movements, he sent her over the edge and into a world of ecstasy.

“Oohhh yes!” she exclaimed.

It was sweet music to his ears, far better than any blaring alarm clock. He steadied his movements so that his wife could take in her orgasm. Her body shuddered, her lower back arched, and her nails dug deep into his shoulders as the pleasure surged through her. Rachel was always so animated when she climaxed, as if to let her lover know that they achieved something special. Dan, being an overachiever by nature, had a special appreciation for such sexy quirks.

“I think it’s safe to say you’re up now,” he whispered into his lover’s ear.

“I am…almost,” Rachel replied, still panting heavily.

Then, in an outburst of energy that would’ve surprised any self-proclaimed morning person, Rachel kissed him passionately once more and rolled him over so that he was the on his back. His member never left her pussy, still surrounded by her throbbing wet flesh. He was still hard and in need of his own release. Dan doubted that need would go unmet.

“I know you’re awake,” she teased, “but are you energized, my love?”

“Well, I wasn’t feeling that groggy, but…”

Again, she didn’t wait for him to finish and Dan didn’t bother. Rachel had already begun riding his cock, digging her knees and feet into the bed while holding onto his torso for leverage. With strength indicative of someone who’d gotten good night’s rest, she moved her hips, working her pussy along the length of his dick. Dan, his hands still on her hips, just laid back and watched as his wife made love to him in the early morning sun.

It was a beautiful sight, enough to get any man energized for the day. She’d trusted him to wake her up from her exceedingly deep sleep. He trusted her to acknowledge his efforts in the sexiest way possible. Once again, she delivered.

“Just like that! Just…like that!” he grunted. “Rachel…I’m almost…there!”

“That’s it, my love!” she told him. “Enjoy…your morning…sex!”

Still riding him hard, she grabbed his wrists and guided his hands to her bouncing breasts. Dan instinctively squeezed them as she delivered the last round of movements, sending him to the brink and beyond, as only she could. The feeling that followed reaffirmed why he was such a morning person.

“Oohhh yeah!” Dan moaned, mirroring his wife’s ecstasy from earlier.

He strengthened his grip on her as he felt a surge of pleasure wash over him. The heat of the morning sun mixed with the heat of white-hot bliss, rippling through every fiber of his being. He let out a deep, masculine grunt as his muscles tensed and his manhood throbbed. Thick streams of manly fluid shot up into his love’s depths, mixing with her feminine juices.

Dan felt his love’s tender gaze every step of the way. She enjoyed seeing him in ecstasy as much as he enjoyed seeing her. She even got a little playful with it, leaning over and trailing her fingers up his chest as she kissed around his unshaven neck. In his blissful daze, he embraced her affectionately and returned the gesture.

“Okay, I’m convinced now. You’re officially awake,” Dan said jokingly.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” she laughed. “Thanks for being extra sure. I don’t mean to be such a heavy sleeper.”

“I believe you,” he replied, “about as much as I believe why you rarely wear panties to bed.”

“Hey, it’s not weird if it works.”

“I guess the results speak for themselves.”

They both shared a round of laughter. He then kissed her again. While Dan would’ve loved to just lay in bed for a while with his naked wife, they had jobs to get to and lives to live. The day was just beginning, but some hot, early-morning sex made for a promising start.

“Well, I better get cleaned up and dressed,” Rachel said as their naked bodies finally parted.

“Sounds good,” said Dan as he got up with her. “I’ll put on some more coffee while you shower.”

“Coffee, a shower, and hot sex…that’s a hell of a wake-up call.”

“Can you think of a better way to start your day?”

“Nope!”

 

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