It’s another beautiful Sunday. It’s not just any Sunday either. It’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving. That means two things. One, I’m getting hungry as hell. Two, I need to get my Christmas shopping done so I can be slightly less annoyed by all the Christmas ads.
It’s a beautiful time of year. It’s not a time of year that most people associate with anything sexy. I’m sure there’s a specific subset of people that find turkey, stuffing, and family gatherings sexy. I don’t judge what gets your dick hard or your panties wet. I just know that everyone has their quirks. How else do you explain the success of dinosaur porn?
As an aspiring romance/erotica writer, it’s my job to appreciate and nurture these quirks in any way I can. I’m not saying I’ll be writing a novel about a Thanksgiving three-way anytime soon, although I don’t doubt that such a story may have some appeal. I’m just saying that there are a few things around the holidays worth appreciating and yes, those things can be sexy.
With that in mind, I’d like to share with you a few sexy Sunday thoughts, courtesy of Jack Fisher. I apologize in advance if some of these sound like musings from someone who skipped a couple meals. When you work up an appetite, your loins and your stomach tend to conspire against you.
The appeal of fireworks and orgasms is eerily similar, but the more you think about it, the less eerie it gets.
Go on. Look at this picture and give it just a little extra thought. Your panties will tell you I’m right
In some respects, a woman playing a video game with a male character makes her a dominatrix by default.
I know women play video games. I know video games have broad appeal. However, if you’re going to take the definition of a dominatrix literally, you can’t escape the implications.
The noises we make when we’re hungry are eerily similar to the noises we make when we’re horny.
Food and sex are part of survival and reproduction, the two most basic drives of life. Is it really any surprise that sometimes our brain mixes them up?
Some of our kinkier sexual practices are inspired from animals, but animals don’t seem inspired by us in the same way.
That’s kind of telling when you think about it. We humans need to observe the strange mating practices of animals for ideas, but they don’t seem to have that problem.
Kid toys can be used as adult toys with a little extra effort and imagination.
This may be a disturbing thought for some, but it’s kind of hard to avoid the imagery. If you’re horny enough, you don’t need much imagination to see potential in a toy.
Sweat created from heat and sweat created from sex are chemically the same, but smell so different.
Sweat lets us know we’re working hart. Sweat lets us know we’ve accomplished something. When we sweat because we’re hot, we’re not accomplishing anything. When we sweat because we’re having heated, passionate sex, then we might as well be sweating scented oils.
From a purely pragmatic standpoint, the tongue is the most useful sexual organ that both genders have.
I don’t think this needs much explanation. A tongue is always wet. It doesn’t need to get hard. Both men and women can use it and know how it works. It’s both practical and sexy.
When you celebrate your birthday, you’re also celebrating the fact that your parents had sex.
We can’t get around it. We’re here. That means our parents had sex and probably more than once. We don’t like to think about it, but if they enjoyed it, then that means they enjoyed making us so I think that’s something worth celebrating.
Got any other sexy thoughts you’d like to share? I can’t be the only one who has them on the holidays. Please share them during this special time of year! Make the holidays sexy again!
Every now and then, I’ll wake up on a weekend morning feeling restless, anxious, and unable to turn my twisted brain off. It’s part of what led me to start writing novels. I come up with all sorts of crazy ideas at crazy times of the day or week. Some of them make for fun, sexy stories. Sometimes you just gotta play the cards you’re dealt.
This morning was no different. I had planned to sleep in. That plan went to shit, as it often does, when I started thinking about a new idea for a novel. Yes, I know I’m still working hard to get books like “Passion Relapse” and “Embers of Eros” published, but you never stop coming up with new ideas. If you do, then you’re probably brain dead and aren’t reading this blog anyways.
So I’m lying in bed thinking about recent events. Beyond the annoying politics I try desperately to avoid, something amazing did happen this past week. Four states, namely California, Nevada, Main, and Massachusetts, voted to legalize marijuana. They join Colorado, Alaska, Oregon, and Washington among the growing list of states ending a 70-year prohibition on a drug that is widely seen as less harmful than alcohol.
As a result of this landmark shift, nearly a quarter of the population of the United States now live in areas where marijuana is legal or will be legal. It’s a strange, but dramatic shift in a society that’s used to seeing weed only in high school bathrooms, rap videos, and Seth Rogen movies. It promises significant change in our culture, which has always been one that’s fond of getting high.
Now I have nothing against weed. I’ve never tried it. I drink whiskey and beer to get my buzz, but I have no problem with anyone who chooses weed as their intoxicant of choice. I don’t favor making these sorts of things illegal, just as I don’t favor making exposed breasts illegal. More boobs and more weed and more beer can only help make the world a better place.
With that in mind, an idea came to me. I’m not saying it’s an idea that’ll lead to the next big vampire craze or something like that. It’s just a crazy idea from a guy who has more than his share of them. So here it is:
Why not combine marijuana with romance to create a new genre: Weed Romance?
Say it out loud: Weed Romance. It’s exactly what it sounds like. It’s a romantic story that is inspired/fueled/realized through marijuana. Has such a story been told? Can such a story be told? Can it be made sexy to sweeten the appeal?
These are all questions that haven’t been asked much, let alone answered. I feel like these questions will be worth answering more and more as marijuana legalization moves forward. There’s already a trend in place. There’s a cultural shift underway. So why shouldn’t our romance/erotica stories change with it?
Think about it. How many romance stories, erotica novels, or low-budget pornos begin in a bar with two people getting drinks? It’s the kind of scenario that has been playing out in some form or another since the days of Humphrey Bogart. We all know it. We’ve all seen in in a myriad of ways. So why not try something different?
Picture this new scenario. Two people walk into a marijuana club. They get themselves a couple of buds and order some burritos on the side. They start smoking. They get a little high. They get a little hungry. Then, their eyes meet. First, they comment on how eyelashes sometimes look like spiderwebs. Then, they start sharing a burrito. From there, it starts to blossom.
Sure, it sounds weird now. It probably wouldn’t even make it into a Seth Rogen movie, but it does have some science backing it. Like alcohol, marijuana has been documented to have positive effects on sexual experiences. Also like alcohol, there are some negative effects, but there are negative effects to everything if you overdo it. So why let that kill the mood?
It may be too soon for Weed Romance to be a thing. However, I’d like to give it some serious thought for future novels. I have other ideas brewing, but this one really intrigues me. If our culture really is changing, then why not embrace it in our erotica/romance?
On behalf of Jack Fisher, the sexy novels Jack Fisher aspires to write, and all things sexy, have a happy Halloween!
Halloween is, in my opinion, one of the most underrated holidays of the year. It’s got something for kids to love, namely free candy and an excuse to eat lots of candy. It’s got something for adults to love, namely sexy costumes and an excuse to wear said costumes. Granted, adults should never need an excuse to wear a sexy costume, but it can’t hurt.
I’ve always been fond of just sitting on my front porch, giving out candy to all the kids in my neighborhood. I also make damn sure I get the good stuff and lots of it. I like being the house that kids know is awesome. They certainly appreciate it, although I do think their parents do dread the coming sugar rush they’ll endure.
Then, there are the sexy costumes. God help me, I love those sexy costumes. I wasn’t in good shape until recently so I didn’t get a chance to put on one of those costumes. Without getting too personal, let’s just say that situation has changed and I look for every opportunity to wear a sexy costume. The women certainly go out of their way to do it. Why shouldn’t the men?
For me, it feels like a second act of New York Comic Con. That’s another occasion where people have a valid excuse to wear crazy outfits and dress up in overtly sexy ways. Again, such excuses shouldn’t be necessary, but it can’t hurt.
So in the spirit of Halloween and all the sexy fun it offers, I give you a few wonderfully sexy costumes, courtesy of sites like TheChive. Enjoy and have a fun, sweet, sexy time!
Cartoons aren’t just for kids, you know?
Not sure what these costumes are. Pretty sure I don’t care.
For one day of the year, lingerie counts as a costume. It’s a beautiful thing.
Sex appeal makes every costume better. It’s a basic law of nature.
A little creativity along with sexiness is also a beautiful thing.
Gotta catch ’em all, right?
Wonder Woman can be both a feminist icon and sexy. Halloween just reinforces that idea.
The only instance where school has some actual appeal.
I’m not afraid. That’s not quite what I’m feeling at the moment.
I originally had another topic I wanted to discuss today, but then something came up that just felt more pressing. By “came up,” I mean this literally just popped into my head last night while I was working on one of my novels. I admit I tend to think strange, twisted thoughts after a certain hour of the night. A lack of sleep and a couple glasses of whiskey will do that to a man, especially if he thinks a lot about romance/erotica.
However it came to me, it’s something that needs further contemplation. It has to do with a very specific trait pertaining to male sexuality and no, it has nothing to do with the size of certain organs. It has to do with something that we, as a society, can’t seem to decide whether is sexy. So for your consideration, here is the burning question I have to ask.
Is chest hair on a man considered sexy?
It may seem like a trivial detail. There are far more relevant traits and behaviors that improve a man’s sex appeal. We can cook, dance, sing, fight, play sports, play instruments, and shave our asses on a dare. Those are all perfectly valid mechanisms for moistening the panties of women and/or gay men, but what about chest hair?
This isn’t just relevant to my work as an erotica/romance writer where I have to be exceedingly graphic about all those sexy attributes that make a male character want to ditch his shirt. It’s also personal. I come from a family where most, if not all, of the men have a modest to abundant amount of chest hair. For the women in my life, present and future, that makes this somewhat pressing for me.
Yes, I do have chest hair. I’ve actually had some amount of chest hair since I was 19-years-old. I’m won’t I was the first guy in high school to get chest hair, but I’m fairy confident that I was in the top ten percentile. Over time, the amount of chest hair has grown. I’ve never shaved it, nor have I felt inclined to do so, but I find myself asking should I?
It’s a surprisingly difficult question to answer. Chest hair on men is one of those oddly neutral features. Men can have chest hair and be sexy. Men can be as waxed as a newly-minted Ferrari and be just as sexy. Women and gay men in general don’t seem to care either way.
Despite this, the issue of male grooming is still an ongoing discussion. There are no shortage of products and tips for men seeking to shave their chest. Sure, the discussions aren’t as heated as those surrounding pubic hair, but it’s one of those discussions that nobody seems to finish.
We can joke all we want about pubic hair. I’m sure I’ll do a post about that at some point and I doubt that post will be SFW, but chest hair should be less taboo because genitals aren’t involved. Even so, it’s still a topic we refuse to take seriously.
In fact, the closest that recent popular culture has come to addressing this issue was in an old episode of Seinfeld. It’s actually one of my favorite episodes of this show, among many, but it’s a nice metaphor for the issue at hand.
Jerry finds that some women do appreciate a clean-shaven chest, but as he so often does, he finds a way to complicate things. Kramer offers insight, albeit the eccentric type. It’s not entirely relevant, but it is funny.
As a rule of thumb, I think that when a topic finds its way into an episode of a sitcom, then it’s gotten to a point where we, as a society, are stuck on this issue. We can’t figure it out so we make a few jokes about it. It’s immature and goofy, but it can still be funny and that’s better than nothing.
This is also one of those issues where applying caveman logic just doesn’t seem to work. Body hair isn’t so much an integral part of our biological wiring as it is a holdover from our hairy ancestors. For a time, hair had its uses. It provided insulation from cold nights on the savanna. As conditions changed and evolution responded, this just wasn’t necessary anymore.
As a result, evolution basically stopped giving a shit about body hair. It didn’t do a way with it. Evolution is not that efficient. It can be downright eccentric though. Humans are unique in that they’re one of the few primates that lost most of their body hair and science isn’t quite sure why, but there are a few theories.
Whichever theory proves correct, it doesn’t change the fact that we’re still stuck with body hair to some extent. Evolution is basically taking the stance of a dismissive teenager going, “Sure. You want to keep it? You want to ditch it? Do whatever the hell you want.”
That makes for some frustration, but at least it leaves men a bit of flexibility. Hair isn’t like a limb. Cut it off and it grows back. If one lover hates chest hair, you can shave it off and not worry about missing out on lovers who prefer it. As a man, I appreciate and value flexibility in my personal grooming, but I’m still somewhat torn here.
So for the ladies and gay men out there, what say you? Is chest hair sexy? Is a lack of it sexier? Under what circumstances is it sexy? At what point does it cease being sexy? As an erotica/romance writer, I really need to know these things. Any help that anyone could offer on this issue would be greatly appreciated.
If I were to walk up to you and say, “Don’t kick elephants!” what would be the first thing that pops into your mind? For one, you’d probably be wondering what sort of head trauma I had suffered as a child to issue such a warning. Then, you’d probably think about kicking elephants.
This isn’t just the musings of someone who may have gotten hit in the head with one too many baseballs as a kid because he sucked at little league. This is a mental exercise that author/reporter/TV personality John Stossel uses in his book, “Myths, Lies, and Downright Stupidity.” It’s as colorful a read as it sounds.
The reason I cite this tactic is because it perfectly demonstrates something that I often see in romance/erotica, be it novels, movies, TV shows, or hardcore porn. Some call it taboos. Some call it tradition. I think it’s best described as the “Forbidden Fruit Effect.” Whatever you call it, it affects our culture, our minds, and our sex lives. Being an erotica/romance writer, it affects my career path as well so I feel I should talk about it.
Most of us in Western traditions know what we’re referring to when we talk about “forbidden fruit.” It comes right out of the bible, symbolizing something tempting that some higher authority have told us to avoid. In the bible, it’s an apple. In real life, it can be damn near anything.
For some people, that fruit is chocolate. For others, it’s alcohol, heroin, or cocaine. It doesn’t even have to be drugs. There have been higher authorities warning people about dungeons and dragons, comic books, and Pokémon. Some of these fruits are legitimate health concerns, especially with drugs. Others, such as those who whine about Pokémon, are just plain stupid.
For the purposes of this discussion, though, the forbidden fruit effect is applied to something that impacts everybody. Yes, I’m talking about sex. Let’s face it, none of us would be alive if it weren’t for sex. That makes it a slightly more important fruit than Pokémon.
There are a lot of forbidden fruit aspects surrounding sex, erotica, and romance. There are so many, in fact, that I’ll probably have to do multiple posts about it to really explore the breadth of this issue. For now, I’d like to keep things general because this is something that I’m exploring for a reason. I am actively developing a new novel that uses the forbidden fruit effect in an extreme (hopefully sexy) way. Consider this a prelude of sorts.
With respect to erotic issues, there is no one forbidden fruit that applies to every culture or every society in every time period. Human beings are just too damn complex/diverse/eccentric. There is one relatively common fruit that is fairly pervasive in Western traditions, particularly those with roots in the three Abrahamic faiths, namely Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.
That fruit pertains to female sexuality. It’s not sex in general. It’s specifically female sexuality that takes on the aura of forbidden fruit. For proof of just how much it affects us, look no further than Carl’s Jr. ads like this.
Show an ad like this to an audience where female sexuality is taboo and it’s easy to imagine the reactions. Such an audience sees this and thinks, “Oh my God! Look! It’s a sexy female! A beautiful sexy female! It’s so wrong! So immoral/sinful! It’s making me think impure thoughts! Help me!”
I admit, that’s an exaggeration. It still illustrates the impact that forbidden fruit has on our minds. It doesn’t even always come from a strictly moral stand either. There are people on the other side of the socio-political spectrum that see that ad and think, “Oh my heavens! There’s a sexy female! It’s so wrong! It’s so blatantly sexist/misogynistic! This is an affront to women everywhere and it must be destroyed!”
Yes, that’s another exaggerated reaction. It illustrates the same effect. If a man were in that ad, it may raise a few eyebrows, but it won’t generate full-blown distress. It highlights just how much that we, as a civilization, have skewed female sexuality.
So how did this happen? Why did this happen? When did we, as a society, decide that female sexuality was this succulent, delicious treat that we dare not seek, touch, or even think about?
Culture, primarily those built around economic models that require large farms where large families are needed to grow crops, are also major culprits. I’ve discussed it before. When there’s an economic incentive to make sure women have a lot of babies and men have incentive to make sure those babies are his, then society will find every possible excuse, crazy or otherwise, to manage female sexuality accordingly.
As a result of these forces, female sexuality isn’t just a forbidden fruit. It’s basically the ultimate prize for men, a Super Bowl trophy on top of a pile of gold-plated elephant’s tusks. For women, it’s this inherent shame that they must carry and be anxious of every moment of every day. For both genders, it’s pretty damn stressful.
Naturally, it’s going to screw with our minds. Sex isn’t like chocolate, video games, or Pokémon. It’s a hard-wired basic drive. Nature programs every living thing to survive and reproduce. It doesn’t program us to survive, reproduce, and level up our Pokémon. It’s one thing to stop playing Pokémon. It’s quite another to subvert basic human drives.
This is born out in research. Some call it, “The Paradox of Temptation.” When you establish that something is just another option, then your brain tends to assess them on equal footing, which is what it’s supposed to do. That’s a survival mechanism. We need that.
However, when you establish that something is a forbidden option, then the wiring of your brain gets a little clunky. That caveman logic in our brains comes back to haunt us again. It follows the skewed logic that if this is forbidden, then it must be valuable and if it’s valuable, then it must be sought.
It also plays out in our interest and desire towards sex. Utah is famous for being a religiously conservative state run by Mormon, another religious sect that places a high emphasis on sexual morality. By sexual morality, they mean women should not have sex for any other reason than to make more Mormon babies that will grow into more Mormons who will give the Mormon church more money.
Why does awareness matter? Well, remember this famous speech by Alec Baldwin?
Ignore the premium-level assholery for a moment and look at the sale strategy called AIDA (Attention, Interest, Decision, Action). What’s the first part of that strategy? It’s simply getting the customers attention. You could argue it’s the most important step because the other three steps can’t happen without the first.
Attention is the first step towards making a sale. It’s also the first step towards making connections, forming relationships, and finding the love of your life. It doesn’t matter if your one true love walks right up to you. If you don’t get his or her attention, it doesn’t amount to jack squat.
By making something taboo and forbidden, you immediately give it some extra attention. Just like when John Stossel says, “Don’t kick elephants!” you end up drawing more attention to it than it would if it were just another mundane choice.
Apply that to sex and we’re bound to skew, disrupt, or undermine our attitudes towards sex in a multitude of ways. We’ve created a set of assumptions and morals in our culture that say female sexuality is forbidden and should not be expressed in ways that a Mormon priest wouldn’t approve of. As a result, we give a lot of attention to female sexuality because we’ve convinced our caveman brains it’s somehow more precious than other forms of sexuality.
When you take into account the gold rushes, tulip manias, and black Friday sales after Thanksgiving, it’s easy to see how excessive attention and skewed value can mess with our heads. It affects how we structure our relationships, how we seek love, and how we deal with our lovers.
It’s one thing to forbid something that’s genuinely harmful, like heroin and meth. It’s quite another to forbid basic sexual expressions that are an intrinsic part of our nature. It’s a concept I’m exploring for a future novel.
I don’t want to reveal too much at the moment because my plans for this book are tentative, but expect it to be a story that confronts forbidden sexual expressions in the most direct way possible. It’ll be direct, but it’ll also be sexy as hell and just as entertaining. I’ll post more details as the story develops.
Until then, think about all the sexual taboos in our world. Look at them closely. Try to filter out the flaws in our caveman logic. Should these forbidden fruits really be so forbidden? It’s a question worth asking.
It’s Sunday. It’s a crisp fall morning. It’s chilly outside, but that doesn’t stop me from sleeping naked, as I’m so fond of doing. It’s been a long week. I’ve spent a good chunk of that week writing about and contemplating the future.
So for crisp Sunday morning like this, I’d like to take a step back. I’d like to take a deep breath. I’d also like to limit the amount of time I have to wear clothes today. Yes, I know it’s Fall. Yes, I know it’s getting cold out. No, I won’t let that stop me from spending as much time as I can naked. Read some of my books. A good chunk of them have been written while I’m naked.
I find that I have some of my best creative moments while naked, sexy or otherwise. I think everybody’s brain contemplates something unique when they’re naked or feeling sexier than usual. These thoughts are special and are definitely worth sharing.
Some call them “shower thoughts.” This is somewhat appropriate. We all shower and bathe ourselves naked. It’s one of the few times in modern life where we disconnect, step away from our hectic lives, and are just alone with our thoughts and our bodies. It’s one of the most underrated moments of everyone’s day. Even if they don’t bathe every day, just being naked and alone with your thoughts can be quite enlightening, among other things.
There are many on the internet that agree with this sentiment. I’m thankful to live in a time in human history where we have something that allows us to connect with others who are equally fond of lounging around in the nude on a crisp Sunday morning. Whether you’re a man or a woman, it’s a special feeling that’s worth sharing.
Thankfully, there are sites like TheChive, which act as hubs the for funny, sexy, entertaining bits of media you aren’t going to see on PBS. They have entire pages dedicated to such “shower thoughts.” In the interest of inspiring those who may benefit from spending more time naked, I’d like to share a few.
I’d say this depends entirely on the shoes in question, but I can’t say I disagree.
It’s logic like this that makes me think that human intelligence doesn’t get enough credit because only idiots make the news.
I’m not sure I can ever get the same enjoyment out of WWE that I do with porn, but that’s just me.
This almost makes me feel sorry for my male ancestors. I shudder to think about the lengths they went to in order to see a naked woman. What a wonderful time to be alive.
This is one of those things I wish people were more honest about. It would make our love lives much more efficient.
I’d watch that show. Hell, I’d DVR every episode and binge watch it multiple times, if only to thoroughly destroy all the bullshit I learned in sex ed classes in high school.
I’m not sure if this is injustice, hypocrisy, stupidity or a combination of all three. If it’s a combination, it’s a damn potent combination.
I’m not sure Elon Musk has thought this far ahead, but I’d be shocked if he didn’t contemplate this issue at some point.
Again, perfect logic can be both intriguing and disturbing. Although for this one, couldn’t you just take a picture of your flacid penis and be okay?
This isn’t a thought so much as it is a valid strategy. For those of us that enjoy loud, raucous sex, you can never have too many strategies like this.
Something to think about the next time you and your lover have sex on your birthday. It may or may not kill the mood, depending on what your relationship with your parents is like. Personally, I’m thankful my parents enjoyed sex enough to make me.
Those are some fun, sexy thoughts to warm you up on this crisp Sunday morning. Hope helps complete your weekend. Got any other sexy Sunday thoughts to share? Share them! Let’s make this our way of making cold, Sunday mornings more fun.
Every now and then, I feel inclined to get a little personal on this blog. I don’t know where that inclination comes from. I know it’s dangerous to share some of your personal secrets on the internet, especially if you want a career in politics or try to argue with the wrong people on a message board. It’s a risk, I know, but it’s a risk I feel is worth taking in order to make this blog more entertaining.
We all have stories like that. We all live crazy lives to some degree, some being crazier than most. I like to think I’ve had a healthy amount of crazy in my life. Some of that crazy has found its way into my personal life and my novels. However, there are some stories that stand out more than others and I’d like to share one.
Now don’t worry. This story isn’t so personal that you’ll need a rubber glove and some industrial strength lubricant. It’s just a little experience that stands out at a time in my life when my overall experiences were limited for reasons that are too convoluted to explain. It’s also an experience that influenced one of my novels in a very particular way for reasons that should be laughably obvious.
So what is this experience and how did it affect me so much? Well, in order to explain it, I need to establish the setting and context. This took place during my first trip to Las Vegas, Nevada. That alone should give you a hint of where this story is going.
Keep your panties on. It’s not going to be that kind of story. I save those stories for my books. This one is a different kind of story, one that requires a bit more imagination than we can afford in the era of internet porn.
It starts out with a younger, inexperienced, socially awkward version of Jack Fisher. At the time, I was 21-years-old. For some, that’s a magical age, one where fake IDs become useless and opportunities to fuck up grow exponentially. For me, it was just a number.
I finally kicked my ass into taking advantage of an opportunity when a relative of mine offered to take me to Las Vegas. They had a business trip that came with a free hotel. I could tag along and all I’d have to pay for was the plane ticket. It was as sweet a deal as I could’ve hoped for and since economics tends to trump social awkwardness, I went through with it.
I didn’t know what to expect. I’m 21-years-old and still in college too so I didn’t have a lot of money to spend, but I did have a decent summer job so that helped. I ended up being overwhelmed in the best possible way when I first saw the flashy sights and spectacles of Las Vegas. It was like walking into a fantasy world where the hold boot of reality didn’t kick my ass nearly as hard as it usually did.
On my first day there, I just took in all the sights. I come from a town where a Holiday Inn is considered the fanciest hotel in town. Las Vegas made that look like a third world shit-hole by comparison. It was pretty damn amazing.
Once I started exploring the casino floors, I had to get used to the idea of people offering free drinks every couple of minutes. I’m normally not one to turn down free drinks of any kind, but the sheer volume of free drinks they offered at this place was overwhelming. I’m pretty sure I could’ve permanently scarred my liver if I were so inclined.
I managed to resist the urge to get plastered on free booze. For the rest of my first day there, I hung out with relatives and friends. We ate this awesome Italian restaurant where the waiters actually spoke real Italian. We walked the old parts of Las Vegas and met real Elvis impersonators. We even caught a concert in the middle of the street. It’s as much fun as it sounds.
Needless to say, I was pretty damn excited from all this. By the time it got late, I was too giddy to sleep. I had never been this restless before in my life. I had to see more of Las Vegas.
While everyone else in my party slept, I just walked the halls of the casino at my hotel/resort. I played some games, listened to some music, and yes, I helped myself to more free drinks. There’s only so much free alcohol I can turn down. Then, at around two in the morning, something happened that still sticks with me to this day.
As I’m walking through the casino floor, I pass by the main bar. There aren’t many people there at this hour, but one figure stands out more than most. There’s a beautiful woman just sitting at the bar alone, wearing this perfectly fitted blue dress. I swear this dress was like a second skin on her. It fit her so beautifully that I have to assume it cost at least half my tuition from last year.
Keep in mind, I’m still wearing clean jeans and the nice dress shirt that I wore to the restaurant that evening. So when she looks at me, she doesn’t see some dorky college boy whose several grades behind on his social skills. She sees a well-dressed young man wandering the floors of a casino alone, looking for new experiences.
At that moment as I’m walking by, she looks at me. Then, she smiles and lightly parts her silky blonde hair behind her ear. I may have the social skills of a brain-damaged monkey at the time, but I get the message loud and clear.
Clear or not, my brain struggled to process it. I swear, my heart jumped right up into my throat and I almost spit up all the free drinks I had over the course of that night. I manage to keep my composure and my dignity. I keep walking, but I make it clear to her I’ve noticed her glance. I acknowledge that message.
After this, things get a little blurry. My brain is struggling to process everything, but my body keeps moving. I keep on walking, although I’m not entirely sure where I’m going. I barely remember how I ended up in the men’s room next to the bar. I just remember looking at myself in the mirror, blinking a few times, and convincing myself that what I just saw wasn’t a trick or a product of sleep-deprivation.
My mind is going a million miles a minute. Should I go back to the bar and talk to this woman? Should I buy her a drink? What the fuck do I do? I’m a socially inept 21-year-old dork for crying out loud! I’m not equipped to handle this.
However, I remind myself that this is Las Vegas. This is an opportunity that I won’t get back home. So, with way more courage than I’ve dared to grasp to this point in my life, I decide I’m going to buy this woman a drink. What happens after that may or may not determine whether I die happy.
After I fix myself up and try not to look like someone still healing from the scars of high school, I leave the bathroom and make my way back to the bar. Then, in what I’m sure is karma’s way of kicking me in the balls, the woman is gone.
I walked up and down the bar for a good 10 minutes or so, looking for this woman. I never found her. For all I know, she wasn’t even real. She was just a figment of the fantasy world that is Las Vegas, a manifestation of a socially awkward young man who had yet to fully connect with the adult world.
Even so, I often find myself wondering what would’ve happened had I not hesitated the way I did. What would’ve happened if I just walked up to the bar, offered to buy the woman a drink, and go from there? Would I have ended up in bed naked with a beautiful woman? Would I have gotten a firm slap across the face for assuming way too much? Would I have accidentally flirted with an undercover cop?
I don’t know. I’ll never know. It’s one of those experiences that will always haunt me to some extent. It’s also an experience that highlighted a certain part of my life when I was woefully inept at connecting with people. While I have made progress in improving those social skills, I still have a long way to go. However, I think back to this memory and see it as a clear sign of where I was and how far I’ve come.
In case you haven’t figured it out, this experience did serve as the primary inspiration for my book, “Jackpot.” This book is not quite an accurate telling of that night. It is embellished to say the least, even by Las Vegas standards. However, it’s one of the few books I’ve written that has a genuine personal element to it.
I haven’t been back to Las Vegas since that fateful trip. I do plan to go again one day, hopefully while celebrating my success as an erotica/romance writer. When I do, I wonder if I’ll have another opportunity like the one I had all those years ago. I hope so because this time, I know I’ll be ready for it.
Everybody has their own unique turn-ons, turn-offs, mood-setters, and mood-killers. Human beings are diverse, innovative, and at-times downright weird in what turns them on. I’m not just talking about exotic fetishes or elaborate role playing either. There really is no one way to make a man or a woman horny.
Whether you’re straight or gay, male or female, monogamous or polyamorous, your sexual wiring is entirely unique to you. Sure, you may share your tastes with some people. Hopefully, you share it with a loving and passionate partner who knows all the right combinations to heat up your loins. Whatever your romantic situation, these proclivities are still unique to you and make up a significant part of our personality.
Having dipped my feet into a few hot-button, controversial topics like radical feminism, porn addiction, and the impact of religion on sex, I feel the time has come to lighten the mood a bit on this blog. If possible, I’d like the made the mood a little sexier. It’s October now. Halloween is just around the corner. That means we’ll all have an excuse to channel our spookier proclivities.
In a perfect world, we really wouldn’t need such excuses. We’d be able to freely share our sexual proclivities and explore them without fear of shame or scrutiny. Sadly, we don’t live in a perfect world, as our irrational attitudes towards circumcision show. So we have to use impersonal blogs and private clubs to discuss such things.
Accepting the many imperfections of this world, I’d like to use this backwater blog of mine to share in those proclivities. I won’t ask what few viewers I have to get too personal. I understand that’s an unreasonable request from someone who is a long way from achieving his goal of being a successful erotica/romance writer. So I’m willing to do what 95 percent of the internet won’t and be reasonable with my audience.
In that spirit, I’m going to list a few of the little things that I find sexy. Now when I say sexy, I don’t necessarily mean these are fetishes of mine. There are no clubs for these little things, at least not that I know of. Rest assured though, I do check for these things and as far as I can tell, these are just personal proclivities that I happen to have.
I won’t list everything that I’ve ever found sexy. That would take multiple blog posts and there are only so many hours in the day. Plus, I had some awkward teenage years. There are some things I’d rather not list, discuss, or even acknowledge.
With that in mind, here are a few little things that I, an aspiring erotica/romance writer, find sexy.
Sexy Little Thing Number One: Women in Sweatpants
There are any number of sexy garments that a woman can wear. Hell, the “intimate apparel” industry is a $10 billion chunk of the economy. I understand and appreciate all those sexy garments. Yes, I mean all of them.
That said, there’s just something inherently alluring about a simple pair of sweats that’s not to baggy, not to tight, and much easier to get off than a pair of skin-tight jeans. I can’t say for certain that sweats look as good on a man, but I can say that a woman wearing sweats will make my twisted mind wander into sexy domains.
Sexy Little Thing Number Two: Badass Female Soldiers
Since the superheroes in my favorite comics are fictional, I find myself drawn to the women who serve this wonderful country. With their badassery, they protect this wonderful land of freedom, liberty, and spray cheese in a can. How can I not find that sexy on some levels?
Sexy Little Thing Number Three: A Simple Casual Sigh
Now what do I mean by this? How can a simple sigh be sexy? Women can do so many sexy things with their voice. Why else would sexy 1-900 numbers have racked up so many phone bills in the mid to late 90s?
For me, a simple sigh sends so many subtle messages. There’s enough obscene dirty talk in internet porn and “50 Shades of Grey” these days. There’s a time and a place for that kind of crude, overt dirty talk. There’s also a time and place for something simpler and subtler. Those times are woefully underappreciated.
Sexy Little Thing Number Four: A Woman Who Cheers At Sports.
I know sports are supposed to be a “guy thing.” I get that 95 percent of all sports prey upon our testosterone-soaked brains, bombarding us with manly feats of ass-kicking manliness in the name of winning that sweet, sweet championship and all the bragging rights that come with it. It’s part of the culture.
We, as a society, don’t expect women to share the same passion for sports that men do. Those expectations are unreasonable and flawed. Women can like sports too. I don’t deny that. I just find the women who aren’t afraid share in this manly passion a special kind of sexy. I see a woman wearing a football jersey and I can’t help but smile.
Sexy Little Thing Number Five: Sharing A Tub Of Ice Cream
There are all sorts of sexy turn-ons involving food. Make no mistake. There is an entire fetish that mixes food and sex in the weirder, messiest, most extreme way possible. I won’t describe it because I just ate and I’d like to keep the contents of my stomach in place.
This little act is not like those. For me, this is more romantic than it is sexy. Who doesn’t love ice cream? Who doesn’t love something sweet and savory? The idea of sharing it with a lover, eating out of the same tub and using the same spoon because we don’t care where our mouths have been, just has this special allure.
So there you have it. Those are five little things that I find uniquely sexy. I’m sure I’m not the only one, but I feel like we all need to appreciate the little things every now and then, especially the things we find sexy. It reminds us that not everything has to be some elaborate setup in a Las Vegas honeymoon suite to be sexy.
With all that said, I’d like to open the floor up to what few commenters I have on this blog. Please share with me what little things you find sexy. It doesn’t have to be weird. Actually, it would be downright interesting if it were weird because I might be able to incorporate that into my novels. In that case, weirdness is optional.
Weird or not, please take the time to share it! I’d love to hear what others find sexy. It’s a weird and wonderful world we live in. We should find sexiness wherever we can and celebrate it!
Well, my vacation is just about over. This morning, I’m leaving New York City and heading home. Overall, I had a great time here. I saw some amazing sites. I saw some sexy sights. I saw some amazingly disturbing, albeit still strangely sexy sights. I’d say that makes for a successful vacation. While I feel like I saw crazier things in New Orleans, which I visited last year, I still enjoyed the unique craziness that New York has to offer. I didn’t get to experience everything I hoped, but one day (hopefully after I’ve gotten a successful publishing deal) I’ll come back and explore even more of this amazing city.
I didn’t get a chance to hook up or chat with those who share my love of romance, erotica, and everything in between. I did meet some colorful characters though. I even met one guy selling his own erotic novel from a stand just outside of Times Square. Perhaps that’s something I can try? Might be a thought for the future. I also noticed that I was not quite equipped to impress women (or men) at some of the clubs I visited. I think I dressed too casually. Maybe next time, I should invest a little more into my attire. I don’t think anyone finds overly casual out-of-towers to be all that attractive. Well, you live and you learn.
So thank you, New York! I had a great time. I didn’t really have much time to work on any of my writing. However, I do hope to catch up later this week. I still haven’t heard from any publishers on my book, “The Big Game,” just yet either. I don’t know when I should inquire again, but I’m holding out hope that someone will take a chance on me. That’ll make trips like this all the more enjoyable.
Just thought I’d post a quick update on my New York City trip. I’ve been walking around, admiring the sites in the Big Apple. I’ve had a lot of fun so far. I’ve also seen some pretty twisted sites. Where else are you going to see a strip club next to a CVS? However, the strangest (and sexiest) sight of all happened last night.
I was browsing Times Square around midnight, as a lot of people are want to do apparently. There are some pretty amazing things that go on in the wee hours of the night. There are street performances, shows, and blaring lights in every direction. It’s pretty amazing. However, the sight that stood out most for me were these topless women in underwear with American flags painted over their breasts. I don’t know what they were advertising. I don’t know what they were selling. I just know they made me proud to be an American.
Now I’ve seen plenty of breasts before. The fact that there are topless women in the middle of summer in New York City is not a surprise. What made it really stand out was the fact that less than 15 feet away, there was one of those street preachers yelling about Jesus through a bullhorn. Oddly enough, he wasn’t really talking about topless women. He was just doing the typical fire and brimstone speech, telling us all how we’re evil sinners. The topless women just didn’t seem relevant. Go figure.
On top of this, there were children out with their parents at this hour. Yes, children did see topless women. No, they were NOT scarred for life. I know it’s New York. I know it’s a big city with a lot of colorful characters. I just feel as though whenever someone claims that topless women will harm children, I feel as though they’re not giving children enough credit. For this valuable lesson, I thank NYC.
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