Tag Archives: sex

“Pile Of Leaves” A Sexy Short Story (About Fall)

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The following is a sexy short story that I wrote to celebrate the beginning of Fall and all the yard work that it incurs. Normally, there’s nothing sexy about that work. I hope to change that with this. Enjoy!

“I hate raking leaves,” muttered a sweaty and sore Darren Cole

“That’s that eighth time you’ve said that today. Keep it up and you’ll get a free burger,” teased Allison Drake, his fiancé and long-time lover.

“I’ll gladly exchange all the free food for the rest of my life to never rake leaves again.”

“I’d make that trade in a heartbeat if I could, but it’s October and we can’t afford a landscaping crew. This is just part of the life we have…and the one we’re trying to build.”

Darren groaned again, but stopped short of adding to the drudgery. He just gripped the rake a little harder, sweeping the last round of leaves into the sizable pile that he and Allison had made over the past four hours. It was hard, frustrating work, but his fiancé made an important point. Raking leaves was one part of an emerging life they had been forging together.

It had been five months since he’d proposed to Allison, but they had been acting like a married couple for years. Friends and family members used to joke that they were the youngest old couple they had ever seen. They’d grown up together in the same neighborhood. They’d endured puberty, high school, and multiple failed jobs. Along the way, falling in love with her just felt like a natural part of the process.

They had gone through so much together, from his father passing away to her older sister getting arrested. He and Alison could manage the obstacles. That was not an issue anymore. Building a stable life, however, seemed much more daunting.

“Building a life,” Darren mused as he packed more leaves onto the large pile, “I know it’s not supposed to be easy, but stuff like this…”

As he caught his breath and stretched his sore muscles, he turned towards Allison, who was also raking the last round of leaves from the yard. She was as dirty and sweaty as him, wearing those stained jean shorts she hated and the T-shirt with a hole in the sleeve that she refused to throw away. Even if they already acted like they were married, it still felt as though they were behind the curve.

In another six weeks, Allison was going to look her absolute best as they walked down the aisle together in a big, elaborate ceremony that his parents insisted on paying for. Darren was going to wear an overpriced tuxedo that his cousin had custom-made for him, one he claimed was worth more than the down payment he’d put down for his first car. Looking their best on their wedding was the easy part, though. It was the little things that often confounded Darren.

He and Allison had lived together for years in a small, but functional apartment. After he proposed, they agreed they needed a bigger place. They needed something stable and permanent, a place they could truly call home. It seemed so good on paper. Darren had no idea it would be so much work.

It started off easy. They didn’t have to search long for their first home together. His Aunt and Uncle had moved out of their old house earlier that year after retiring to a tropical climate. Rather than sell it to a stranger, they offered it to him and Allison at a discounted price. Having started new jobs and needing to rebuild their savings after such a big purchase, they had to build their new life in a very literal sense.

Just moving their stuff over from the apartment wasn’t enough. His Aunt and Uncle’s house was located on a big lot with lots of space, plenty of trees, and good views. It was an amazing place, especially for a couple of newlyweds, but it required a lot of upkeep. Raking leaves was just the latest in a long list of maintenance tasks that had kept them busy for the past several months. It seemed like there was no end to it.

“Do you think all this was necessary?” Darren asked as he caught his breath.

“What do you mean?” Allison asked after setting the rake aside.

“All this – the house, the yard, and all the crap that goes into it – was it really necessary for my Aunt and Uncle? I know they’ve been married 49 years, but how much of that was because they had this house and everything that came with it?”

“I doubt it was that big a factor,” she said. “I’m sure it helped. All this space and fresh air…how could it not?”

“That’s kind of my point. Did they buy this place because they needed it? Or did they buy it because they thought that was just what newlyweds did?”

“Are you questioning the basics of married life already?” Allison said with a chuckle. “Darren, we haven’t even gone on our honeymoon yet. Shouldn’t we wait a few anniversaries before we start questioning the institution?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound cynical. I guess raking all these leaves will do that to a man.”

“That, and you like to think ahead…sometimes to a fault.”

Darren laughed and shook his head. Allison knew him well. She knew his strengths and his weaknesses. While he didn’t consider planning ahead a weakness, he did see it at once of his quirks. It often annoyed his friends, but Allison didn’t mind. It might have even been part of why she fell in love with him.

As he kept dwelling on what awaited them in married life, his bride-to-be set the rake aside and took off the heavy gloves she’d been wearing. She then walked over to him and embraced him, not minding the dirt and sweat that had accumulated from hours of yardwork.

“Darren, do you know why I didn’t hesitate for a second when you asked me to marry you?” she asked him, that beaming smile of hers already easing his soreness.

“Are you going to tell me it wasn’t because paid my brother’s roommate to play our prom song?” he teased.

“Your knack for romantic gestures was just part of it,” she said. “A much bigger part was how well we work together.”

“Work? You make it sound like we share an office.”

“I’m not talking about that kind of work,” Alison said, rolling her eyes. “I’m talking about how we navigate things together. We don’t immediately default to you-do-your-thing and I-do-my-thing. We actually try to help each other, even if it’s something as simple as raking leaves.”

“Given how many leaves we just raked, I don’t think there’s anything simple about it.”

“It’s not about quality or quantity. It’s about our approach. It didn’t happen all at once, but at some point over the course of our relationship, we stopped seeing basic tasks as individual challenges. Even when we do things by ourselves, we keep each other in mind. I don’t know if that’s a byproduct of love or just something that happens to two people who have been together so long, but damn it if it doesn’t feel right.”

Allison caressed his face, running her fingers over his unshaven face. Again, the sweat didn’t bother her. If anything, it aroused her. The way she held him, her arms so affectionately draped around his neck, her love for him showed in so many ways…including the sexy ones.

At the same time, she made a keen observation that was easy to overlook for anyone who thought too much about the future. He and Alison had already gotten to a point that many married couples failed to reach. They saw works as a collaborative effort. Having known more than a few friends whose relationships failed without that effort, he quickly became more certain in both the present and the future.

“Yeah, it definitely feels right,” Darren told her, “among other things…other very sexy things.”

“You’re such a dog,” she teased.

“And you just love petting me,” he quipped.

“Which proves my point,” she added. “We’ve gotten past all the little things that usually keep a couple from making it down the aisle. We’re so good at it that the little things seem to stand out more.”

“Is that a good or a bad sign?”

“That’s just it…I don’t think it’s either. If anything, it’s an opportunity to appreciate just how lucky we are. I love you. You love me. We own a house, now. We’re getting married soon. If raking leaves is the most strenuous thing we do…hell, I’d say we’re doing a lot of things right.”

It almost made too much sense. Darren felt like berating himself for making such a big deal of it. Between fall rolling in so suddenly and having to learn the joys of yardwork once more, it was easy to forget just how lucky they were to have such a strong relationship. All the work they’d put into it made other work seem so mundane by comparison.

“You know just what to say to make me forget how much I hate yardwork,” Darren told her.

“That’s what good spouses do for each other,” Alison said playfully.

“I’ll remember that the first time I have to shovel snow from the driveway this winter.”

“So will I,” she said. “Sometimes, we need to remind ourselves why certain work is worth doing.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make it any less appealing.”

“Oh I don’t know. In my experience, a key benefit to sharing the work is giving it more appeal.”

“You honestly think you can make raking leaves that appealing?” Darren asked skeptically.

Almost immediately after uttering those words, his future wife cast him a mischievous grin. At that same moment, he Darren realized he did the one thing that brought out one of her most defining traits. He’d just challenged her and Alison loved nothing more than to rise to the occasion.

“Actually, I believe I can,” she said boldly.

“That wasn’t a dare,” he told her.

“Too late! I accept it.”

With energy that shouldn’t have been possible after four hours of yardwork, Alison pulled him into a kiss, complete with plenty of tongue and heavy passion. As sweaty and sore as he was, Darren eagerly kissed back. Anyone who had known the taste of Alison Drake would’ve done the same. Her love and her affection was just that powerful.

The only trait more powerful, in his experience, was her ability to captivate a man in any condition. Despite the sweat, dirt, and splinters, she eagerly pawed his upper body, conveying to him a desire that was not dispelled by the drudgery of raking leaves. In an almost fitting defiance of his hatred of fall yardwork, she led him onto the big pile of leaves they’d just created.

“Come on,” she said to him, “let’s put this big pile of leaves to good use!”

“I take it you’re not referring to composting,” Darren joked.

“No. I’m not,” Alison said in a serious, seductive tone.

Now lying together atop the messy pile, they made out like a couple of horny teenagers on prom night. She kissed him with more tongue, reaching up his shirt while hitching a leg around his waist, grinding her pelvis against his and really getting the blood flowing in all the right directions.

Darren kissed back with equal passion, slipping his hands into the back pockets of her shorts, giving her ass a firm squeeze. He knew how much she liked that, just as much as she knew how he liked to have his chest rubbed. He could already tell she was getting wet between her legs. The fact they knew each other’s bodies so intimately boded well for their honeymoon.

Every touch seemed to convey a growing desire. However, Darren hadn’t forgotten that they were still outdoors. While their back yard was fenced and the trees provided plenty of buffer, it still counted as an unusual location in which to vent their passions. That didn’t stop Alison from taking off her shirt, removing her bra in the process.

“Alison,” he gasped upon seeing her topless form, “we’re uh…still outside.”

“I know,” she said casually.

“It’s also a little chilly out. Are you sure?”

“Only if you’re willing to keep me warm,” she replied.

That sounded like both a challenge and a dare. Much like his future bride, though, Darren loved rising to the occasion. It didn’t just make for entertaining dares at parties in high school. It helped him become the dedicated lover he needed to be for Alison.

They made out some more. Darren made it a point to wrap her in his arms, hold her topless form close to him to keep her warm from the autumn gusts. He paid special attention to her nipples, which had become erect in the cold. When he gave them a slight pinch – a little kink that Alison never admitted to being a kink – she let out a purr of approval.

“Warm enough?” he asked her.

“Mmm…getting there,” Alison said playfully.

Encouraged, he stepped up his foreplay, trailing his lips over her cleavage and trailing his hands around her exposed skin. That helped keep her warm, but it also heightened his own arousal. He could already feel his pants getting uncomfortably tight.

Alison must have felt it too. Their hips grinding together probably gave it away. As they kissed, she undid his belt buckle and unzipped his pants. Almost immediately, his cock popped free. The sudden exposure to the elements kept him from getting fully erect. However, his lover had already begun countering that by stroking it with both hands.

“Got to keep you warm too,” she said to him.

“Yeah…some parts more than others,” Darren said.

“Good thing I know how to prioritize.”

Working quickly and boldly, she maneuvered further down the leaf pile so she could give his penis more direct attention. That included shoving it between her breasts and sliding it between her fleshy mounds. That both kept him warm and helped hasten his arousal.

“Ooh!” he moaned. “You have amazing priorities, Alison.”

“Is that what we’re calling my tits, now?” Alison laughed. “I like it!”

Encouraged, she kept working his cock between her tits. Then, she leaned in and gave it a quick suck, sending shivers of bliss and desire coursing through his body. Even though the winds were brisk and the pile of leaves was cold, Darren felt a powerful heat build around him. It was hot enough to remove his flannel shirt, leaving him in the white sleeveless shirt he wore underneath. He kept that on, if only to keep the leaves from scraping his skin. It allowed him to focus entirely on the task at hand.

Alison did her part, using her breasts, lips, and tongue to get him into that special state where he didn’t just seek her intimate embrace. He needed it. She knew how to get him into that passionate mindset better than anyone. As he gazed down at her, that seductive gaze staring back at him, he let her know he was ready.

“I think we’re ready to really test this leaf pile,” she told him after giving his cock one last suckle.

“So do I,” Darren said.

With uncanny reflexes, Alison shot up to her feet briefly and removed her shorts, panties and all. He could tell even in the early twilight that she was very aroused. She needed his sex as much as he needed hers.

After tossing her clothes aside, wearing only a pair of old white sneakers, she rejoined him on the leaf pile. Like an angel in heat, she mounted him like her favorite perch, straddling his waist and aligning his rigid member with her wet entrance. Then, with one hand on the base of his shaft and the other clutching his waist, Alison plunged her hips downward and guided his manhood into her pussy.

Immediately, their combined flesh sparked a heat that no fall or winter could hope to quell.

“Ohhh Darren!” Alison moaned.

“Alison…so warm and tight,” he moaned back.

Instincts and passion quickly took over. Their flesh united, they began moving together in a burst of heated lovemaking. It began with her lightly riding his cock, working her pussy along the length of his dick. It quickly escalated, turning into another passionate embrace mixed with heated kissing.

His hands eagerly roamed her naked skin, both to feel Alison’s heavenly touch and to keep her warm from more gusts. She replied with faster movements, rocking and gyrating her hips at a fervent pace. She threw in some loving gestures, which included her clinging to his neck and raking her nails along his back. Darren didn’t care if she left marks. They were already on top of a dirty pile of leaves. They were beyond caring about aesthetics.

In between the grunts and moans that came with sex, the pile of leaves under them rustled heavily. It was not at all like making love on a bed. Parts of it gave way. There were chunks of grass and mud everywhere, smothering and staining their remaining clothes and exposed skin. Darren didn’t care, though. Being messy, reckless, and adventurous only made the experience with his future wife more powerful.

“Alison,” he said in a passionate daze, “out here…together…on a pile of leaves.”

“Yes! Out here…together!” Alison exclaimed, her tone hinting that she was already close.

She rode him harder, taking his hands in hers and squeezing them as she crossed that special threshold that separated basic pleasure from the rush of orgasm. Alison never made it too hard for him. She once joked that she learned how to get off before she learned how to make love. Again, her priorities astonished him.

“I love you…so much,” she panted in the midst of ecstasy.

“I love you too, my autumn angel.”

Darren strengthened his embrace, holding her close so that she could enjoy her orgasm. As she buried her face in his shoulder, he kicked off his pants and underwear to give himself more room to work. Once certain that Alison had gotten her fill of bliss, he took the initiative and continued their sex.

With energy he shouldn’t have had after raking leaves for four hours, he continued making love to his fiancé, rolling around the pile of leaves as if it were a playground. She moaned and laughed as he maintained their passionate rhythm, hooking her legs around his waist and clinging to his neck to keep their bodies entwined. She didn’t seem to mind the leaves poking her skin or the mud on her back. She just kept returning every loving gesture, as if to guide him to his own peak.

“I…I’m getting close,” Darren grunted.

“You’ve worked so hard, my love. You’ve earned it,” she whispered into his ear.

Determined and encouraged, Darren intensified the pace of their sex, working his body against hers for the final push. He ascended quickly to his peak, his body shuddering in anticipation. When it finally arrived, he firmly grasped his lover’s hips and let out a cry to the autumn spirits, as if to proclaim to the heavens how much he loved his future wife.

“Ohhh Alison!”

He let out a deep grunt coupled with a satisfied moan. Time and the changing of seasons stopped for a brief moment. His gaze never diverted from hers as his member throbbed inside her, his manly fluids mixing with hers in a convergence of passion. The fact that convergence took place outdoors atop a dirty leave pile made it that much more meaningful.

Now breathing heavily, sweating despite the brisk air, he rested his forehead against hers as they settled into the post-coital afterglow. They laid next to one another, soaking in that special feeling under the autumn twilight. After the drudgery of raking leaves and assorted yardwork, it felt like a fitting way to cap off their day.

“What do you say, my future husband?” Alison said playfully, now lying next to him. “Do you hate yardwork a little bit less now?”

“I won’t say I love it,” Darren said with a coy grin, “but you definitely gave it more appeal.”

“I still call that a success! It should serve us well as newlyweds.”

“It definitely will,” he said confidently. “It’ll also give us even more incentive to make a much bigger leave pile next year!”

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Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: New York Comic Con 2018 Edition

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It’s a great time to be a comic book fan and for once I’m not just referring to the glut of superhero movies flooding the market. This past weekend was New York Comic Con 2018 and, as I so eagerly documented, I had a chance to attend. As someone who writes extensively about comics and builds every Wednesday around reading them, this time of year is basically Christmas meshed with Halloween.

Every year, I go to New York Comic Con knowing that it’s a true testament to fandom. Say what you will about the “toxic fanbase” phenomenon that has emerged in recent years. There’s no denying the passion and dedication of those who attend the New York Comic Con where they can dress like their favorite character. Considering some of the time and effort some people put into their costumes, that passion is worth celebrating.

I could spend a whole week talking about all the wonderful sights and sounds of the New York Comic Con. I still couldn’t do it justice. Every year I go, the experience seems to expand. I meet new people. I discover new things. I get to share in the collective joy that comes with being a fan. For that, I’ll always be grateful.

After another eventful New York Comic Con, I don’t think I’ll surprise anyone by dedicating this week’s edition of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts to the experience. There’s a lot to celebrate in this golden era of superhero movies. I’m just glad I got to be part of it and add a little sexiness to the mix. Enjoy!


“A whore is a slut who is smart enough to get paid for doing what they’re already doing.”


“Logistically speaking, phone sex only became practical when phones began vibrating.”


“In terms of raw intimacy, lube is the most romantic gift you can give your lover.”


“Female breasts are one of the few things in the world that can be both a distraction and a motivator.”


“In terms of love and sex, the tongue is the most versatile body part.”


“Internet porn has created the first human society where everyone has access to cheap, abundant orgasms.”


“The difference between intimacy and debauchery is measured by the amount of fun the clergy doesn’t think you should be having.”


Another year has come. Another trip to the New York Comic Con is complete. Every year seems to raise the bar and I’m plenty willing to do my part. To the city of New York, the many comic companies I love, and those who wore overly-elaborate costumes, I sincerely thank you. You help give heart to these passions we share.

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Daily Sexy Musings: Ravaging Love

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Sometimes, you want to make love in the most tender, loving way possible. For anyone with a shred of romantic inclinations, this is a pretty common fantasy and one I’ve depicted multiple times in my sexy short stories. However, even among self-proclaimed romantics, there are times when you just crave something a bit more raw.

It goes by many names. Some call it being ravaged. Some call it being fucked. Some just call it basic humping. Whatever you call it, most know it when they see it, feel it, or want it. You just want to cut loose and vent all the sexy feelings you and your lover have been holding in. It’s not always romantic, but it can still be very passionate. This daily sexy musing celebrates that unique passion in all its ravishing glory. Enjoy!

To hell with candles.

To hell with fancy dinners.

To hell with dates, sweet talk, and subtlety.

We don’t need any of that. We just need a room with a piece of furniture that can support our body weight. It doesn’t have to be a bed. It can be a table, a chair, or even the dirty floor. It doesn’t matter. I want you. You want me. Let’s not tempt the lustful beast within us. Let’s indulge it!

There’s no discussion. There’s no plan. I just walk over to you, rip off your clothes, and lay you down on the nearest stable surface. There’s no technique or tantalizing. We just let our bodies do the talking. I enter you and you embrace me. It’s so crude, but so effective. Every sensation is so unfiltered and direct. We don’t just taste it. We gorge on it.

It’s a familiar act, but one with a radically different context. We make love all the time. We have sex just as often. It’s good. We enjoy it. There’s a place for it in the ongoing celebration that is our love. Then, there are times when we need not be gods or angels. In such rare and fleeting times, we can just be the animals we are at heart.

My primate brain tells me to love you, but my lizard brain tells me to fuck you.

My deepest emotions urge me to show affection, but my basic instincts urge me to mate.

My human side tells me to form a deeper connection, but my animal side tells me to just follow my genitals.

The results are predictable, but powerful. There’s no script to follow or role to play. We need only be two lovers who happen to be horny at the same time. We don’t bother being careful. We dare to be reckless. We make a mess of ourselves and of our surroundings, but that’s a concern of the future. Now, we focus on the present.

Your nails rake along my back.

My hands squeeze your juicy flesh.

Our sweat mixes as every sinew grinds in primal harmony.

Together, we don’t speak. We just grunt and moan. That says enough. To make love is to turn emotions into actions. To ravage one another is to merely mix raw lust with heightened passion. Alone, they’re powerful enough. Together, they’re extra potent. With it, we ravage one another. For one rare moment, the animals and angels within us are content.

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The Pathetic Life Of Alan Harper: A Prelude/Warning To Men?

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Sometimes, popular culture is uncanny at predicting the future. “Star Trek” famously predicted cell phones. “2001: A Space Odyssey” predicted tablet computers. Then, there’s “The Simpsons,” which has predicted so many things that it’s creepy. Some predictions, however, fly under the radar. Some aren’t even predictions as much as they are worst case scenarios.

One such scenario played out in “Two and a Half Men,” a show more famous for its off-screen drama than its on-screen antics. Granted, those antics were fairly crude. Most episodes revolved around dirty jokes, sexual innuendo, and glorified hedonism. In today’s social climate, this show would trigger mass protests with every episode.

That didn’t stop it from being funny. I consider myself a fan of the show. However, this is one of those shows that could never be made today, even with an emotionally-stable Charlie Sheen. Its brand of comedy just wouldn’t work in an era where sexy Halloween costumes are considered controversial.

However, the message “Two and a Half Men” conveyed goes beyond its brand of humor and the actors who made it controversial. It’s a message that probably wasn’t intended when the show first aired, but one that manifested with time. That message centers around the only male character to make it through every season alive and unaltered, Alan Harper.

As a character, Alan is the catalyst for the whole show. It begins with him getting kicked out of his house by his wife, forcing him to live with his brother, Charlie. It serves as the foundation for the antics that follow. However, in light of recent trends in feminism, Alan Harper has become more of a concept than a character.

Simply put, Alan Harper is the perfect embodiment of a defeated, emasculated man. He’s a step below the stereotypical beta male. He’s the masculine equivalent of rock bottom. Even the entire cast of “The Big Bang Theory” or Al Bundy from “Married With Children” would feel sorry for him.

You don’t need to watch every episode of every season to see how this plays out. The show rarely goes more than a few minutes without highlighting how pathetic Alan is. The denigration goes beyond his ex-wife kicking him out of his house, divorcing him, and hitting him with egregious alimony payments.

Alan Harper, at his core, is a man dependent on everyone around him for affirmation, but is incapable or unwilling to earn it. His womanizing brother, Charlie Harper, often describes him as a parasitic leech who feeds on the pity of others to survive. In terms if how he conducts himself throughout the show, that’s pretty accurate.

Everything Alan does, from trying to make a living to pursuing romance, is done from a position of dependence. He depends on his brother for a place to live. He depends on his ex-wife to see his son, Jake. He depends on all the women he encounters for love, sex, and affection. He never has any leverage, always working from a position of weakness.

This earns him sympathy, but he’s no lovable loser. In addition to being dependent and weak, he’s also neurotic, selfish, and lazy. He rarely puts much effort into improving his lot in life. He never stands up for himself, rarely accepts responsibility for his mistakes, and endures failure without ever learning from it.

This is especially true in the later seasons of the show after Charlie Sheen was fired. Instead of having to leech off his brother, Alan managed to leech off a total stranger in Walden Schmidt. He makes every possible excuse to keep living in his brother’s house, never pay for anything, and avoid any semblance of personal growth.

Even if you pity Alan Harper, there’s little reason to respect him. Whenever he has a chance to make choices that can change that, he either makes the wrong decision or avoids it entirely. He’s not just a perpetual victim of a vindictive ex-wife, a hedonistic brother, and an idiot son. He actually clings to his victimhood, as though it were part of his identity.

It was fodder for comedy when “Two and a Half Men” was still on the air. Now, it’s a serious issue that affects men and women alike. That’s because leveraging victimhood has become less a comedy trope and more an ideological tactic.

The current discourse, especially when it comes to gender, is often built around who victimizes who. A big part of the anti-harassment movement is driven by the idea that women have been victims for years, suffering in silence under the thumb of misogynistic men. There are more than a few situations like that in “Two and a Half Men.”

Men are just as guilty of using that tactic too, albeit not to the extent of Alan Harper. Men have cited the lack of attention people give Terry Crews or Corey Feldman whenever they talk about issues like sexual abuse. They’ll point out the ways in which women get preferential treatment in our society, some of which actually plays out in “Two and a Half Men.”

There’s no question that harassment and inequality are problems, but just being a victim can’t be the end of the conversation. Alan Harper is, in essence, the personification of what happens when we don’t attempt to further that conversation. It impacts everybody, but it’s especially relevant for men.

Alan reflects a worst-case-scenario. In the overall gender dynamic, he draws every bad card and makes every wrong move. He marries a woman who hates him and exerts immense control over his life. He has a callous, egocentric mother who gives him no affection, guidance, or support. The entire world takes advantage of him and he does nothing to stop it.

To make matters worse, there’s very little Alan can do to stop it. Even if he stands up for himself, he has no support because he’s so dependent on other people. If he gets kicked out of the house, he has nowhere to go. If he makes any money, someone else ends up getting it, often his ex-wife or an ex-girlfriend. He’s not just pathetic in how he handles it. He’s utterly trapped.

This is the kind of nightmare scenario that men genuinely worry about. Many women may laugh it off, but men aren’t blind to the bigger picture. If Alan Harper were gay or transsexual, then he would have organizations that support him. There are many groups that work hard to help disadvantaged members in the LGBT community.

There are also plenty of organizations that help women as well. If Alan were a woman who had been kicked out of his house by a vindictive husband, then there’s no way that the comedy in “Two and a Half Men” would’ve worked. It’s not funny to see a poor woman get thrown out on the streets and denied custody of her child. When it happens to a man like Alan, though, it’s hilarious.

That’s where the humor in “Two and a Half Men” becomes distressingly serious. A character like Alan Harper lends himself to ridicule, but his situation is no laughing matter. He’s the pinnacle of a defeated man. Society does nothing to help him and everything to mock him. If he weren’t a man, it would be a tragedy. Instead, it’s a comedy.

For men, that’s a scary thought. On top of that, his situation can manifest in the real world, minus the laugh track. It is possible for a man to lose his home, his kid, and his money thanks to a vindictive wife. It is possible for a man to be so utterly helpless that he has to depend on everyone’s pity to survive.

The fact that it’s possible, but still funny in the context of a sitcom, gives men more pause today than it did when “Two and a Half Men” was still on the air. Men’s lives are being ruined by a society that does not give them the benefit of the doubt. Any debate that tries to take the side of men tends to get labeled as misogynistic.

We can either take those concerns seriously or create a society where men may end up like Alan Harper, laughably pathetic and utterly destitute. “Two and a Half Men” was still a funny show. However, the core of its comedy has serious implications and that are worth taking seriously, now more than ever.

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Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Tight Fitting Clothes Edition

Woman wearing of jean pants from back. Female bottom in tight jeans

Growing up, I didn’t like tight-fitting clothes. In fact, I would get annoyed if I had to wear something that anything looser than cargo shorts and an oversized T-shirt. I won’t say it was a quirk as much as it was a preference. If I ever had the choice to dress myself, I would almost always favor loose-fitting clothes.

That did change as I got older, though. It took a while, but I noticed that after I got in shape, I came to appreciate tighter-fitting clothes. From shirts to jeans to underwear, I felt as though tighter clothes helped show how much I’ve grown and how much work I’ve put into my body. I can safely say that I feel more attractive in tighter clothes.

I know I’m not alone. Look at any popular fashion magazine or attractive model and chances are they’ll use tight clothes to show off their beauty. It’s not so much a result of enjoying the feeling of certain fabrics on your skin as it is a statement that you’re fit enough to wear these kinds of clothes in the first place.

Is it somewhat egotistical? Yes, it certainly is. Then again, if you have the chance to show off how good you look, why waste it? Some extra tight clothes can help you achieve just that. This week’s edition of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts is a dedication to those tight-fitting clothes and all the sexiness they show off.


“It’s somewhat ironic that we judge sexy lingerie by how much it makes others want to rip it off.”


“A cheap dildo is a worthy investment to those who’ve been on one too many cheap dates.”


“Whoever invented popsicles had to have known how much impact they would have on attitudes about oral sex.”


“Doing chores for your lover is exhausting, but doing chores with your lover can be a form a foreplay.”


“A firm handshake among men can imply a lot about where that hand and those fingers have been.”


“When you think about it, feeling emotional and feeling horny is just a matter of which body part gets the most blood.”


“The only way people will stop doing illicit drugs is if they stop making it so much easier to get laid.”


I hope that made everyone’s clothes feel a little tighter for all the right reasons. I still wear a lot of loose-fitting clothes on a casual basis. However, when I get a chance to show off how good I look, I gladly opt for something tighter. I encourage everyone to do the same. We all have a certain amount of sex appeal. Don’t let your clothes completely hide it.

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Daily Sexy Musings: Quiet Moments

Sunset

Let’s face it. We live in a noisy, chaotic world. You don’t have to go very far to find yourself surrounded by the commotion of cars, winds, people, dogs, and any number of random rackets. It’s just an inescapable part of life. Wherever you go, there’s going to be noise. That makes opportunities for quiet moments few and far between.

That also makes those moments incredibly precious. We all need a moment of quiet every now and then, even if it takes some extra effort. Those moments can be especially powerful when you have someone to share them with. In my experience, the best couples are the ones who can handle comfortable silence. For them, a quiet moment is almost as intimate as making love.

This is a musing on the power of those moments. They may not be as sexy, but they certainly powerful and don’t result in messy bed sheets. Enjoy!

Finally, we get away. Work, bills, chores, and errands are behind us or set aside. For once, our ears stop ringing. At least, we can stop processing everything coming at us and just live.

We take a deep breath.

We sit down next to each other.

We hear only short breaths and long sighs.

The air is still. Our hearts beat steadily. There’s nothing to keep up with. There’s nothing to run towards. There’s just us, together in a peaceful moment, enjoying every moment we have together.

There’s no uncertainty, obstacle, or labor. We already overcame that. We spent so much time and energy coming together. Why should just being together require much more? We’ve made our case. We’ve proven ourselves. You know I love you. I know you love me. Does it have to be a spectacle?

There’s a time and a place for all things loud and festive. This is not one of them. For now, it’s just us. We’re together. We don’t have to jump through hoops. We don’t have to strive or struggle. We can just be.

Sitting with you, my arms around you and your arms around me, we don’t need to say a word. We don’t need to make a noise. Everything we need to say has been said. Every act that needs to be done has been done. An affectionate glance, a warm smile, and a simple gesture is all that’s necessary.

Every touch tells a million tales. Every kiss evokes countless emotions, past and present. In serene, peaceful silence, we remember every one of them. They play out in our minds, but they all converge in the present. In that moment, our love takes its most basic form.

We need not make a sound.

We need not say a word

We need not break a sweat.

The only thing we truly need is each other and a quiet place. Whether it’s in a room or in the middle of a forest, we have everything necessary to share in the moment. We can be fully clothed or completely naked. It makes no difference. We’re together. We’re at peace.

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“Mystery Stud” A (Kinky) Sexy Short Story

kink

The following is a sexy short story I wrote that demonstrates how a blindfold can be a catalyst for something kinky. Enjoy!

“Are you ready for this Marilyn?” asked Connie Chambers in her ever-coy tone.

“Ready, nervous, and excited as hell!” Marilyn Raven replied, trying hard not to sound like an overly-energetic little school girl.

“I’d ask if you’re sure, but you sound so giddy I’ll just skip the part where I act like your over-bearing friend.”

“I appreciate that. Now shut up and put the damn blindfold on me.”

Marilyn – or Mari, as her friends called her – didn’t usually bark orders like that. In fact, she was the kind of girl most described as friendly and soft-spoken, but a little more uptight than most women her age. Few would’ve guessed she had such a kinky side. Even fewer knew how much she loved to exercise it. Connie was among those select few and, on top of being her best friend since grade school, she had similar kinks. She even encouraged them.

“Okay, you horny slut,” Connie said, not yet matching her excitement. “I just hope you appreciate what we’ve had to go through to set this up.”

“Just shut up and blindfold me,” Mari retorted. “I’ll appreciate when I’m less horny.”

“Fair enough,” she laughed.

Connie, standing behind her in a cramped bathroom with poor lighting, placed the blindfold over her eyes. It was brand new, having purchased it less than six hours ago from their favorite sex shop where they were on a first-name basis with the owner. It was soft and silky, the kind meant to be comfortable for hours of continued wear. It spoke the extent of Mari’s sexual tastes that she’d put so much thought into something so simple.

She wasn’t surprised, though, and neither was Connie. They had been partners in kink, as they called it. They’d been helping each other explore their sexual appetites since they discovered how much they loved sex, which had been shortly after Mari realized how good she looked on a thong. What she had planned tonight was not the craziest thing she’d ever tried, but it had the potential to be something special.

“Make sure it’s comfortable,” Mari told her. “I don’t want it coming off before all is said and done.”

“Don’t worry,” Connie assured her. “You’re talking to a certified bondage queen, remember? I know all about making sure things are snug.”

Mari snickered, trusting her friend and focusing entirely on the latest sexcapade before her. It was part of the dynamic that she and Connie had developed. While Connie was usually the first to do something daring and new, Mari prided herself on her ability to refine it. That skill was exactly what had led them to a private sex club on a Thursday night in the middle of winter.

She’d planned it out a week ago. The club, itself, wasn’t that big. It was a bondage club that had been converted from an old bar. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary night club. It was in the exclusive areas upstairs where all the magic happened. That was where the dungeons, the hot tubs, and the bungalows were located. Everything from orgies to role playing to even wedding ceremonies had been known to occur behind the blacked-out windows.

Mari had set everything up ahead of time, reserving one of the smaller bungalows on the third floor that was typically used for BDSM and role playing. It contained a large bed with bondage accessories, including whips, handcuffs, and ropes. She wasn’t yet sure how much use those tools would get. If all went well, they wouldn’t be necessary.

“I’m trusting you to do a lot more than put on a blindfold,” Mari reminded her. “Trust is kind of a big theme for this.”

“No need to remind me,” Connie said, still standing behind her. “It always is with these sorts of things.”

“What I’m about to do, though…it’s going to be a hell of a test. Trust anybody this much, let alone a total stranger, is really pushing the kinkiness factor…even for me.”

“That’s part of the appeal,” her friend reminded her, “and rest assured, I intend to make it as hot as possible.”

She spoke in that deep, sensual tone again. Mari knew that tone well. It was the same tone Connie used when she had phone sex with her boyfriend. She only ever used it when she was either in the mood or really confident.

With the blindfold secure, the most critical step was complete. Her world now pitch-black, Mari could already feel the excitement growing. However, it was only the beginning.

“Time to get this show started!” Connie said. “Ditch the clothes, but leave the underwear.”

Mari couldn’t strip fast enough, slipping out of the fancy blue dress she’d bought last weekend and kicking off her heels. That left her only in a black lace thong with a matching push-up bra. She’d chosen attire that was easy to get out of and sent the right message. She was in the mood to get fucked, but she wanted to do it her way.

“You always had great tastes in thongs,” said Connie.

“Think it’ll get the job done?” Mari teased.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Her friend, now sharing her excitement, grabbed her arm and led her out of the bathroom. Mari followed closely, already feeling the plush carpet of the bungalow on her bare feet.

“Follow me,” Connie said. “From here on you, you keep your mouth shut unless you’re having an orgasm. Understand?”

“I understand,” Mari said, expecting those to be the last words she uttered for a while.

“Good! Then, lie down the bed, hold still for a bit, and wait for the magic to happen.”

Mari did as her friend asked, unable to stop herself smiling. It felt strange, given what she was about to do. A less adventurous, more prudish woman would’ve been fearful. Mari was not like that, though. She was different. She embraced the craziness that often came with her sex life.

With Connie’s help, she laid down in the center of the bed in the corner of the bungalow. She hadn’t used the room before and that was on purpose. She wanted everything to be unfamiliar, from the location to the types of sheets it used. Just feeling the plush, silky linens on her half-naked body was enticing. That was a promising sign in her book.

“I’ll be right back with your mystery stud,” Connie whispered into her ear. “Don’t you dare take that blindfold off. Just wait and the fun will come to you.”

Mari just nodded, taking deep breaths of anticipation as she laid still on the bed. She could feel the air around her getting hotter. Either the air conditioning was poor or she was just that horny. Whatever the case, she hoped she didn’t have to wait for too long.

Everything was silent for a while. She couldn’t even hear the music and chatter going on in other rooms, which was rare for the club on a Thursday night. She’d seen plenty of people crowding the bar downstairs. There were people there. She just didn’t know which one of them would be satisfying her tonight. That, in and of itself, was thrilling.

Being blindfolded, eager, and horny, time really slowed down for a while. On top of the soft, comfortable bed, she had little with which to occupy herself. Given how horny she felt, she fought the urge to just reach into her panties and masturbate. She managed to exercise restraint, but she could only last so long.

She couldn’t have been alone for more than a few minutes, but it still felt too long. For all she knew, it was on purpose. It was Connie’s way of building up the moment. If that was her tactic, it was cruel. If it worked, though, she would forgive her.

Finally, she heard the door to the room open and close. The sound, alone, made her tense with a mix of anxiety and arousal. She already heard footsteps approaching her. Then, she heard it.

“I’m here,” said a deep, masculine voice.

Mari’s heart skipped a beat. That voice, alone, conjured an image in her mind that added to her horniness. She immediately pictured a big, strong man standing in front of the bed, his every muscle bulging with testosterone. She also pictured a big, powerful dick hanging between his legs…a dick that she longed to feel inside her.

“Wow,” the voice said. “You’re even more beautiful than Connie described. She’s a woman of her word…and I intend to deliver as well.”

Her inner thighs moistened at that promise. The heat around her only intensified as she felt a figure crawl onto the bed with him. That proved the air conditioning in the club was working fine. It also affirmed that the man wanted her.

“I’d introduce myself,” he went on, “but Connie specifically told me not to give you my name. She doesn’t even want me to use a fake name. It’s not all about what she wants, though. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Mari trembled at the sound of that strong, masculine voice. She could only muster a nod, already feeling the warmth of his body near hers. She longed for his touch, but fought the urge to just jump him on the spot. She needed to trust in him and her plan.

“In order to do that, though, I need to do things my way,” he said. “That involves you trusting me completely. Do that from and we’ll both get what we want. You have my word.”

It was the most daunting part of her fantasy, placing implicit trust in a man she didn’t know and hadn’t even seen. Everything about their kinky situation related to trust. There was an inherent danger to it, making herself so vulnerable. There was also an immense thrill to it, one that helped fuel her desire.

Once again, Mari just nodded. She didn’t even attempt to reach out and touch the figure before her. If she was going to trust someone to such an extreme, then she was going to go all out.

“Good,” the man said. “Now, raise your arms over your head. I’m going to tie them to the headboard. Don’t worry. I’ll use soft rope.”

Mari did as he requested without hesitation, having already committed to the fantasy. She raised her arms up over her head. Moments later, she felt a soft rope wrap around her right wrist. Based on how quickly the man tied the knot, he had done it before. He was no stranger to bondage. He knew what he was doing. That inspired a bit more trust, as well as more arousal.

She remained still and vulnerable as the man tied her other hand. Before she knew it, her arms were perfectly secure above her head, rendering her completely vulnerable to the mystery stud in bed with her. Her heart was already pounding in her chest. She had no idea what the man was going to do to her or whether she could handle it. That feeling – a total lack of knowing an assurance, leaving her at the mercy of a stranger – evoked in her a special kind of excitement.

“So beautiful,” the man said, “tied up, blindfolded, and submissive.”

As he said those words, he caressed her face and trailed his hands down her body. Those hands were so hard, yet so warm. They felt like the kind of hands that threw bricks around for fun and built monuments. They radiated with the same intense manliness of his voice. Naturally, when those hands passed over her hips and chest, she shuddered with arousal.

“Your skin is so smooth and soft,” he went on. “Why don’t we get you out of that undersized underwear?”

Mari just smiled and purred softly, sending a seductive message that her mystery stud received loud and clear. Showing more eagerness, he swiftly unclasped her bra and removed her panties, leaving her completely naked. The feeling of hot air over her exposed breasts and inner thighs sent shivers down her spine, albeit the best possible kind.

“Such nice breasts,” the man said, “and such hard nipples, too. This is really turning you on, isn’t it?”

Before she could break her promised silence, he grasped her breasts with both hands, giving her nipples a light pinch in the process. Mari let out a high-pitched moan, her excitement echoing throughout the room. That further encouraged the man, who trailed one hand down between her legs where the heat from her pussy had reached maximum intensity.

“So hot and wet,” he said in a humored tone. “Guess that answers my question. That’ll make this next part easier.”

The mystery stud removed his hands from her breasts and pussy, leaving her untouched for a brief moment. That moment didn’t last long, though. Before she could linger too long in her bound state, she felt something brush along her chest and torso. It wasn’t a hand or a finger, either. It was a penis. Mari knew enough about human anatomy to know what a penis felt like on her flesh.

“You feel that?” the man told her. “Do you feel how hard I am?”

No answer was necessary. She clearly felt the intricate details of his stiff, rigid member on her naked skin. She also felt the bed shift as he got on top of her and slid his dick between her breasts, using his hands to mash them together to create a tighter fit.

Mari purred at the feeling. Connie most have told her she liked tit-fucking. Given the size and shape of her breasts, she was better-equipped for it than most women. It often went a long way towards getting a man in the mood and in her current state, it gave her a sense of how endowed the man really was.

As he playfully pumped his manhood between her breasts, Mari got an intricate feel for his size, shape, and firmness. She was already imagining what it would feel like inside her. Not being able to see it or hold it in her hands, she only had her imagination…her naughty, kinky imagination.

“I want to fuck you so much, right now,” the man said intently. “Seeing you here, all naked and bound…I want it so bad.”

Her mystery stud was getting impatient, sounding like a volcano of lust ready to blow its top. Mari wanted so bad to just tell him to do her like he wanted, but she refused to break her silence. That was still part of her fantasy.

She still had other ways of communicating her need, though. To show how much she wanted it too, she gave the tip of his dick a hard lick every time it neared her lips. It was a small feeling, but one that sent a clear message.

“You want it too,” he said. “You want it as much as I do.”

Mari just gave his dick another lick and grinned. She didn’t nod or moan. She wanted to build the anticipation in her mystery stud as much as he had with her. That ended up working faster than expected because he soon removed his cock from between her breasts.

“Then, to hell with dragging it out!” the mystery stud said. “I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to make you come. Then, I’m going to come. It’s going to be fucking amazing!”

There was so much certainty in his words. Mari had heard that sort of thing from men before, but it always came off as overly-macho confidence. Whoever her mystery stud was, he was beyond confidence. He clearly had a kink for control, which was probably why Connie chose him. Control allowed him to be certain. With her bound, blindfolded, and silent, he could exercise that certainty.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered.

Mari eagerly complied, already breathing heavily as she felt him re-position himself on the bed. She could feel his figure between her legs as he gripped her thighs and held them apart. He was even bigger than she’d imagined. In her mind, she pictured a hulking hunk of masculine flesh in bed with her. That mental image, along with everything else he’d done to her so far, made her crave his sex like never before.

“Here it comes,” the mystery stud told in that deep, intense tone of his.

Almost immediately, Mari felt it. In one targeted motion, the man thrust his cock into her pussy. He filled her moist depths even better than she’d imagined. Letting out a deep moan, she roughly clung to the ropes that had bound her wrists and took in the feeling.

It was so sudden, not being able to see it happen and only being able to react. She could’ve spent hours bracing for it and she still wouldn’t have been prepared. Being blindfolded and bound meant she had no clue as to how intense their sex was going to get, but that was exactly how she wanted it. She’d entrusted her mystery stud to give her everything and he went to work rewarding that trust with the kind of hot, vigorous sex that Mari so loved.

“Ohhh yeah!” the man grunted. “So tight and wet…I love it!”

His every word echoed with lust, which he directed entirely onto her. With their flesh entwined, her mystery stud began humping her with reckless abandon. He made good use of his control over her, really putting his legs and back into it, working his rigid manhood inside her tight folds. Such rigor allowed him to get in deep, stimulating those areas inside her that were so hard to reach, even with a capable lover.

The entire bed rocked and so did Mari’s world. She moaned and gasped every step of the way, letting herself get extra loud. She clung harder to the ropes restraining her wrists, as though she would fly off without them. It went beyond the basic pleasures of hot sex. It was thrilling, being bound, blindfolded, and fucked by a man she couldn’t see or control in any way. Her mystery stud was in control, dominating her like no man had.

He even demonstrated he knew how to make use of that dominance. As he maintained the intense pace of their sex, he released his grip on one of her thighs and used his thumb to rub her clitoris. The man must have paid attention to the women he dominated because that accelerated her path to orgasm. It came rushing towards her so fast, like an oncoming tidal wave that got closer with each passing second.

“Ohhh!” was all Mari could get out.

“You’re coming,” her mystery stud grunted. “I know you are. I want you to. Here…come for me!”

Whether by the extent of his control over her or sheer coincidence, Mari’s body reacted as though he had just flipped a switch. That wave of sensation hit her hard, sending her into a blissful frenzy. She curled her toes, arched her back, and let out a cry of euphoria that left her ears ringing. She was so animated with her climax that her mystery stud had to slow down the pace of their sex.

“Damn!” he said. “You’re one…kinky…woman!”

Mari just shot him a beaming smile, which encouraged him to hump faster again. Still immersed in a world of ecstasy, she embraced that kink that was now so obvious. She’d exercised plenty of fantasies before, but none had been that effective. It was good to know for future lovers.

For now, though, she focused on the mystery stud before her. Mari remained in her blissful daze as the man kept exercising his control, making a hard push for his own taste of ecstasy. He hitched her legs up over his shoulder, shifted his grip to her breasts, and worked his cock into her with more focus. Like a man on a mission, he pushed himself to achieve what he craved.

“Now…it’s my turn,” he grunted. “I’m ready! I’m going to…come!”

He put a little extra force behind his last round of thrusts. That seemed to do the trick. When he finally crossed that threshold, gave her breasts a hard squeeze and let out an extra deep grunt as he climaxed.

It must have been pretty intense for him, as well. She could feel his cock throbbing inside her pussy, radiating with the same orgasmic ecstasy she had felt. The way his muscles felt on her body, his sweat mixing with hers under his powerful grasp, just radiated with so much sensual feeling. His control over her and her submission helped compound that feeling, making for the kind of sex that was both kinky and satisfying.

“Wow,” he said. “That was…wow.”

Still dazed from her climax, Mari just focused on catching her breath while her mystery stud lingered in their intimate entanglement for a while. Eventually, he withdrew from her and released her from his grasp. He even undid the ropes, but Mari still didn’t dare remove her blindfold or reach out to embrace the man.

Even though the sex was finished, orgasms and all, the fantasy wasn’t over. To maintain the power of that fantasy, she could never know what her mystery stud looked like. It was somewhat frustrating, not knowing who just gave her such great sex. That was part of what made it meaningful, though.

“Thank you, Mari,” her mystery stud whispered into her ear. “You’re a wonderful, kinky experience…one I won’t soon forget.”

Then, in an act that seemed out of place after such an elaborate sex act, he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek before leaving the bungalow. It was an odd notion, a man who loved to fuck hard and dominate his lover, offering such an affectionate gesture. Mari still gladly accepted it. If nothing else, it completed the mental image of the mystery stud who’d just given her such great sex. That, more than anything, made the fantasy feel truly complete.

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Daily Sexy Musings: Our Song

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Turn on any device that streams music and chances are you’ll hear at least one love song within the first 15 minutes. It’s a common theme in every era of music, from drinking songs in old taverns to bubblegum pop hits that have annoyingly catchy beats. A vast chunk of the most popular songs of all time are love songs.

It makes sense too. You seek to describe love, sex, and passion, but can’t just use ordinary words. You need to do something more extraordinary and music can help with that. A good love song can go a long way towards turning a feeling into an experience. What follows is a sexy musing on just how intimate that experience can be when you find a song that evokes all the right passions. Enjoy!

When we first heard it, our ears perked up. Our hearts beat faster. We smiled and danced a little. It seemed like simple fun, at the time. If we never heard that song again, then maybe that was all it would’ve been to us.

However, we did hear it again. We heard it a lot. Soon, it became something more than just a song.

I hear those first few notes. Almost instantly, my thoughts shift. They drift like clouds following gusts of wind, eventually centering around you. As I think about you, I think about us. As the song plays, the concept of us takes on a greater meaning. It isn’t just a catchy tune that makes me want to dance. It’s a direction connection between our hearts.

Then, I hear the first round of lyrics. In those words are the poetry of passion, depictions of love and intimacy that defy convention. I listen to every word, the beat and the rhythm supplementing every sentiment. In just a few lines of song, an ocean of emotions that I cannot hope to articulate becomes clear.

I look at you and you look at me. We smile and laugh. We’re having fun, but that’s only on the surface. Just below the dancing and grins is a world of feelings that can only be conveyed, but never grasped. In less than a minute, we drift closer, as if the song reminds us why we cherish those feelings.

I hold you and you hold me, the song playing in the background. Our smiles never wane. How could they not? Through a simple song, we say to one another what would take a lifetime. The song does the talking for us. There’s no need to contemplate the words, adjust our tone, and set the mood. In just one song, everything that needs to be said is said.

With no need for words, actions take over. We dance together. We touch, we embrace, and we kiss. Before we know it, dancing just isn’t enough. The song just reveals too much of our passions. We can’t hope to simply sway together and hope that will do justice for our love.

Our love is greater.

The song celebrates that greatness.

We, as lovers, must celebrate it as well.

Before it even ends, the gestures evolve. Our dance becomes a steady exchange of gestures. Those gestures become more sensual. Suddenly, the air around us gets hot. The clothes we’re wearing become unbearable. We can’t get them off fast enough. To feel the power of the music, we must feel each other whole.

The song is at its end, but our dance is just beginning. Without saying a word, we connect through the song. I take you and you take me. We engage in the most intimate dance possible, the echoes of our song still playing in our minds. In the end, that’s what it feels like.

It’s our song.

It’s our intimate link.

It’s the very rhythm of our love.

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Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Long, Hard Week Edition

Housewife woman in a couch with headache

Have you ever had one of those long, hard weeks that just won’t end? Actually, let me rephrase that. Exactly how many of those long, hard weeks have you had in the past year alone? Unless you’re rich, retired, or have an army of servants, you’ve probably had more than a few. I know I have. Most of them were in high school, but every now and then, I have one of those weeks that just can’t end fast enough.

Sometimes, it’s because of family drama. Sometimes, it’s because of personal issues. Most of the time, though, it’s a combination of many things that just hit you all at once. It’s frustrating, stressful, and downright overwhelming. It’s for that very reason, though, that the end of those weeks are so cathartic.

It’s also for that reason that any love you can make, either with yourself or a partner, is that much more satisfying. Even if you feel like you don’t have the energy, I still recommend you make the effort. You may think that sleeping in on a Sunday is the best way to recover. I respectfully disagree. After one of those long, hard weeks, making love is the best possible medicine.

If you don’t believe me, I just ask that you try it. We’re all going to have a rough week every week at some point. Make an effort to cap those weeks off with a little sexy fun. You’ll find that no matter how bad a week is, some concerted lovemaking goes a long way. I hope this week’s edition of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts give others the necessary encouragement.


“Some remember the sweetest virgins, but everyone remembers the kinkiest sluts.”


“The fact that dirty sex and good sex often go hand-in-hand sends mixed messages about hygiene.”


“A man’s sexual history is never as disturbing as his browser history.”


“When you think about it, phone sex is the adult version of a bed time story.”


“Pimps and used car salesmen operate in distressingly similar ways.”


“A good orgasm is like a home run, but multiple orgasms are like a grand slam.”


“Love creates many possibilities, but abundant lube makes them easier to realize.”


In a perfect world, nobody has a bad week and nobody needs some extra sexy loving to recover. Unfortunately, we don’t live in a perfect world. We have to make do with the good times and bad. We can’t always control how badly our week will get. We can control how we deal with it, though. I’m not saying some sexy time is the best way to manage it, but I’m willing to bet it’s more effective than a back rub.

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Daily Sexy Musings: Danger, Excitement, And Romance

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The following is a sexy musing inspired by the effects of danger and thrill-seeking. It’s a real psychological phenomenon, danger and excitement leading to raw arousal. It’s called “Misattribution of Arousal” and it’s kind of what it sounds like. It’s when the brain associates an aroused state with something other than the actual source.

In other words, the line between feeling scared and horny tend to blur. We’re afraid, but we’re also aroused. We’re in danger, but we’re also excited. That tends to cause all sorts of strange and wonderful feelings. It’s part of why women like bad boys and why men like naughty girls. However, me being the romantic I am, I think the link between danger, excitement, and romance runs much deeper, as you’ll see. Enjoy!

I look at you from afar. In an instant, I no longer feel safe and certain. In you, I suddenly become vulnerable. Like being naked in a blizzard, I feel so exposed. It’s dangerous, but I’m not scared. I’m only uncertain.

Then, I take a step closer. Suddenly, fear strikes me harder. I’m more than just vulnerable. I feel completely naked, exposed to elements and unseen forces that bombard me from every angle. I don’t know what it is. I can’t hope to protect myself from it. At the same time, though, I don’t want to.

Closer and closer, I see you in all your glory. Your eyes finally meet mine. At that moment, I’m paralyzed. I cannot move. I forget out to breath. I’m drowning in an ocean of awe. With just a single glance, you do something to me that defies logic.

Who I am suddenly changes.

How I see the world suddenly evolves.

The life I’ve lived becomes secondary to the life I now seek.

It’s overwhelming. It’s downright dangerous, knowing my life will never be the same. My heat races faster. I feel like I just jumped from a plane without a parachute. I’m falling through cold, unforgiving winds. There’s nothing that will stop me from falling to the center of the Earth.

Then, you walk up to me and smile.

Just like that, you catch me. I am no longer falling. Now, I am in your arms and you’re in mine. It’s like we’re hanging from a cliff, clinging to each other for dear life. Below us is a vast abyss. Above us is layer of storm clouds, thunder and lightning trying to tear us apart.

It’s no use, though. Everything around us is so dangerous. In your presence, though, I fear none of it. I only fear letting go. You are now my lifeline. You are my anchor in a stormy sea. Every second I’m with you feels like test of will and endurance. It’s like a ride without end and you are my only security.

It still scares me.

It still overwhelms me.

It still thrills me to no end.

Finally, you greet me. I hear your voice. I touch your hand. Through my fear and dread, I greet you. I know then that before the night is done, we will be together. We will know each other, feel each other, and make love to each other in every meaningful way. Secure in that knowledge, I no longer feel fear. There is only the thrill of finding you and following you into the danger.

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