Tag Archives: sex

December 14, 2018 · 6:02 am

How Self-Driving Cars Will Change Sex Work (For The Better)

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When it comes to emerging technology, there’s one inescapable byproduct that I’m sure confounds plenty of inventors and innovators. If said technology can be used to enhance and/or accommodate sex, it will. It’s like taxes, gravity, or traffic during rush hour. It’s inescapable.

While I’m sure the inventor of the back massager knew on some levels that it was going to be used for lurid purposes, there are plenty of others who had no idea how horny people would use their creations. I suspect that those developing self-driving cars know that at some point, a horny couple will have sex in a self-driving car. It’s just a matter of relegating it to a secondary concern, at most.

Even if you don’t closely follow to ongoing trends of the auto industry, it’s hard to overlook the recent news surrounding self-driving cars. This is not some far-off technology like smart blood, artificial wombs, or warp drives. This is a rapidly-maturing technology that is happening. As we speak, big companies like Uber, Apple, and Tesla are testing this technology.

I can even personally attest to the potential of this technology. Earlier this summer, I got a chance to ride in a Tesla Model S with a self-driving feature. It was quite an experience and I can verify that the technology worked. The car drove itself on a busy highway in the middle of the day. The driver still kept his hands close to the wheel, but the results exceeded my expectations.

While riding in that car, I wondered for a brief moment how this would lead to more sex on the road. Being an aspiring erotica/romance writer, those kinds of thoughts come to me fairly often. With this, it was easy to envision.

The car drives itself.

The driver and the passenger get bored.

As they combat the boredom, they get horny.

Since the car is taking care of itself, they decide to have sex and make their road trip memorable.

I think it’s inevitable. I bet that on the same day self-driving cars enter the market, some adventurous couple will celebrate by having sex in one. It might be so expected that it won’t even make the news. People already have sex in cars, even while they’re moving. Self-driving cars will just make it easier.

This is where sex work enters the equation. It’s another, less common byproduct of technology. Whenever something comes along to change the sexual landscape, it often finds its way into sex work. It happened with the internet. It happened with smartphones. It’s going to happen with self-driving cars.

The impact won’t be direct. It might not even be immediate. However, self-driving cars are bound to affect everything from urban planning to job markets to personal finances. It’s not too great a stretch to believe that it’ll effect sex work.

I’m not the only one who has speculated on this issue. One academic from the University of Surrey and Oxford stated that self-driving cars could be the brothels of the future. Instead of hotel rooms, apartments, massage parlors, or street corners, a self-driving car could act as a mobile red light district, bringing sex workers to clients with greater ease than ever before.

Considering the recent legal upheavals to the world of sex work, self-driving cars may arrive in a chaotic market that is rapidly adapting to new circumstances. Today, it’s a lot harder for sex workers to operate online. It’s also increasingly difficult for them to organize and find support on any area of the political spectrum beyond standard libertarians.

Conservatives see prostitution as immoral and deviant, favoring prosecution and punishment of providers and clients alike.

Liberals see prostitution as exploitative and oppressive, favoring policies that prosecute pimps and treat sex workers as victims.

As a result, operating as a sex worker is very difficult. Even if you live in an area that doesn’t criminalize sex work, as done by the increasingly popular Nordic Model, the logistics of having a place to operate and getting to customers is still fraught with complications. It’s here where self-driving cars could be a potential game-changer.

The most obvious and immediate impact has to do with mobility. As it stands, sex workers have to either operate on the streets or advertise online. Both have only become more dangerous in recent years. A self-driving car is akin to a Taxi that doesn’t ask questions or judge a sex worker on what they may or may not be wearing.

With self-driving cars, sex workers have a cheaper, more anonymous method for getting to clients and expanding their reach. They don’t have to stand on dirty street corners or stay in seedy hotels with questionable laundry service. They can get to where they need to go and not have to rely on a pimp or partner, which is critical in terms of limiting exploitation.

That’s one of the key factors in what makes sex work so dangerous in places where it’s illegal. Sex workers can’t rely on the police or standard legal services for protection. Pimps, including the violent kind, provide that service in a black market environment where workers have to surrender their autonomy in exchange for safety. Self-driving cars could make those services less necessary.

That means sex workers will be able to operate more independently. In terms of limiting the potential for abuse, that’s critical. While the operations of sex work are difficult to study, most research has shown that independent sex workers are better able to avoid the abuse and exploitation that often follows the illegal sex trade. Self-driving cars could make that easier for more sex workers.

Beyond the logistics, self-driving cars could actually become a life-saving tool for sex workers. One of the greatest dangers they face is escaping a violent client. In the past, a sex worker had to rely on a pimp or a fellow worker to get out of those situations. Even calling a cab was risky because, for all they knew, the driver could refuse to help them or report them to the police.

A self-driving car is less prone to ask questions. In addition to being cheaper, it could get them farther away from a bad situation and allow them to operate far from their where they reside. They don’t need to be confined to certain areas or districts. They can move around more freely and expand their reach while keeping more of the money they make.

That’s just the initial impact, though. There are plenty more potential benefits that self-driving cars could bring to the world of sex work. That concern about mobile brothels is probably not an exaggeration. The current laws prohibiting brothels in many jurisdictions assume that domain of sex workers isn’t moving. That wouldn’t apply to a self-driving vehicle.

Even in places where prostitution is legal, establishing a brothel is riddled with all sorts of red tape and regulations. A self-driving car that operates as a brothel isn’t constrained by zoning laws or specified districts. It literally goes to wherever the demand is. Considering how expensive apartments and hotel rooms are in some areas, a self-driving car/brothel may actually be the most cost-effective way for a sex worker to operate.

Given these potential benefits, it’s very likely that plenty of areas would seek to prohibit or regulate this kind of prostitution. However, I suspect that enforcing those laws would be even more difficult than the existing statutes. If a self-driving car operating as a brothel is always moving and the sex workers are discrete, then how would the public or the authorities even know?

There’s also the possibility that self-driving cars could make some aspects of the sex industry even worse. A self-driving car could make activities like human trafficking easier by giving traffickers a cheap new way to move people around. It could also set up some tricky legal battles, especially if sex workers regularly move between areas where prostitution is legal and illegal.

One way or another, self-driving cars are going to affect the world of prostitution in ways that neither an academic from the University of Surrey and Oxford nor an aspiring erotica/romance writer can contemplate. Given how prevalent prostitution has been in every society, no matter hard religion and government tries to suppress it, enterprising sex workers will find a way make the most of it.

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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 9, 2018 · 9:20 am

Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Sexy Moaning Edition

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It’s unavoidable. When you’re sharing a passionate moment, you’re going to moan at some point. It’s like a reflex. Your body is doing something awesome and your mind is telling you it’s awesome. You’re going to try and vocalize that somehow. A good, sexy moan achieves all that and then some.

Moaning is one of those acts that has a mixed reputation and not in a good way. Most of the time, you don’t moan for a good reason. Sometimes, it’s out of distress. Sometimes, it’s out of discomfort. It’s not one of those things that has inherently sexy connotations. Like true love or the sound of an alarm clock, though, you know it when you hear it.

Many of my novels and sexy short stories often highlight the moaning often associated with intimate moments. Plenty of other erotica/romance media, from movies to porn, do the same. In the right circumstances, a moan can be the perfect manifestation of sexiness and passion. It’s difficult to achieve, but it’s certainly worth pursuing.

This week’s edition of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts is dedicated to that pursuit and the extra-sexy results they achieve. Some may not be in the mood for that kind of moaning this early on a Sunday. At the very least, I hope it gives you an appreciation for it. Enjoy!

“When you think about it, a brothel is essentially an orgasm clinic.”

“The most awkward part of puberty is suddenly wanting to see other people naked.”

“The size of the dildo someone uses says a lot about their standards for a good time.”

“Pity sex is like a penny in that it has actual value, but it’s generally not the currency most prefer.”

“A couple’s first kiss counts as their act of foreplay in that it shows how willing they are to touch body parts.”

“How loud we are during sex often determines how sore we are the next day.”

“Going to a strip club on a date invites serious conflict between one’s heart and genitals.”

I’m not going to assume any of that got people moaning for all the right reasons. At the very least, I hope it got certain people in the kind of mood that makes it a pleasant byproduct. Intimacy and romance manifest in all kinds of ways. Some are cruder than others and moaning certainly qualifies. That doesn’t make it any less sexy.

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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 2, 2018 · 9:17 am

Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Sexy Candle Edition

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What is it about candles that have both sex appeal and romantic undertones? I get that candles have a logistical use. They provide light without electricity. Some even have scents that make a dirty apartment smell like a rose garden. None of that is groundbreaking. However, whenever someone create a romantic scene, candles are often used to set the mood.

Maybe it’s the dim lighting, the added heat they provide, or the unique scent they exude. Maybe there’s something more primal at work. For most of human history, if we wanted to make love at night, we either had to do it under the stars or by the light of a fire. For all we know, it was the first method people used to establish a genuinely romantic mood.

Whatever the case, candles can provide uncanny sexiness when used properly. Beyond lighting, they have other kinkier uses that I won’t get into. I’ll just say that there’s a market for candle wax that goes beyond lighting. It’s more than enough to justify dedicating this week’s edition of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts to the unique sex appeal of candles. Hopefully, we don’t need to wait for a power outage to appreciate it.

“We are never more vulnerable when we’re both confused and horny.”

“Porn stars are the only professionals who can never take off their uniform.”

“Good grammar is like good foreplay in that people notice when it’s poorly done.”

“Lingerie is like wrapping paper for sex.”

“An anniversary is a tactful way of telling your lover that you still enjoy seeing them naked.”

“Making love in a moving car is like running naked during a blizzard in that you can do it, but there are some serious risks.”

“From a purely evolutionary standpoint, having sex while eating is the most basic form of multi-tasking.”

I hope that inspired lovers, young and old alike, to stock up on candles. Winter is here. The days are getting shorter and cold weather is making the act of getting naked less desirable. For fans of all things sexy and romantic, this presents a challenge and we need to make use of all the tools at our disposal. Candles are an underrated, but incredibly powerful tool to achieve plenty of sexy things this winter.

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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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