Category Archives: Sexy men

A Bookstore Fantasy

She delighted in the sharp indrawn breaths, the stares, the feeble attempts at striking up a conversation. Just for fun, she’d stopped by the bookstore, because she had some time to kill before meeting her best friend at a bar to play their favorite game. That game was “Tease the Boys,” and she was hoping to rack up some extra points by starting early. Early, and with a crowd that might be deemed less susceptible than a bunch of drunk guys at a club. These were literary guys!

She was dressed in short skirt that just barely covered her thigh highs and garter. Her blouse was sheer, and her thin bra hid little. She had browsed the bestsellers for a bit, bending to see something on the bottom shelf when a particularly stuffy, or middle-aged guy was standing near. She soon grew bored of that. Too many wives and girlfriends, huffing and puffing with indignation, pulling their men to safety. She overheard, as she was intended to, a snide comment. In response, she placed her stiletto-heeled foot on the third shelf of the rack, and adjusted her stocking, laughing as Ms. Offended dragged her leering boyfriend off.










She wandered upstairs to the Sexuality section. She sighed. Not much going on there. She was bored now, but still had some time to kill. She decided she’d grab a magazine and have a cappuccino in the coffee shop. As she turned, a young man appeared at the end of the aisle, as if he were a vision she conjured. He was tall, and lean, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was dressed casually in a plaid cotton button down shirt, and a pair of jeans. She looked up at him and smiled. He didn’t respond, until she waved her hand in front of her chest, and motioned, palm up, that he should lift his gaze. She was absolutely delighted when she saw a deep flush spread over his cheeks.

“Oh, yummy,” she thought. He was shy, too!  She turned sideways and reached up toward the top shelf, making sure her skirt rose high on her thighs. Failing to reach the top shelf, as she’d known and planned, she turned back to face him.

“You’re so tall,” she purred. “Do you think you could reach that book on the top shelf for me?”

“Oh, sure, of course,” he said, dragging his eyes away from her. “Which one?”

“That one there, babe. How to please a man.” He blushed again, but reached up and grabbed the book in question. He didn’t seem to know where to look as he handed it to her. “Thank you,” she said. She flipped the book open and pretended to read, but just made it up as she went along.

“According to this book,” she said, “a man is very pleased when a woman kneels in front of him and reaches for his belt.” She paused and licked her lips, glancing up to see how he was doing. He was rooted to the floor. Good. She looked back at the pages and continued. “He likes it if she unbuckles the belt, then unbuttons his jeans, and pulls down the zipper.”

Again, she looked up, meeting his eyes. “Is that true? Does that sound right?” she asked. “You’re a man, so you must know.”

He stared at her for a minute. “Poor baby,” she thought.

“Next, it says I should inch your jeans down over your hips…”












He continued to stare. She slammed the book closed. He jumped. “Obviously none of this is right!”

“No,” he said, finally finding his voice, “it all sounds about right.

She turned her back to him, and bent from the waist, knowing her stockings and garter, and a generous glimpse of her ass would be visible to him. She pretended to look at the books on the bottom shelf. She knew he had moved closer when she felt the heat from his body behind her. She straightened and stepped backwards. Her body grazed his, and she could feel his breath on neck. She moved her hips suggestively against him. His arms slipped around her waist, and he pulled her tight against him. She could feel he was hard through his jeans.

“I could teach you how to please a man, if you want,” he said softly in her ear.

She shivered with delight when his hands reached up and caressed her breasts through her flimsy attire. She rubbed her ass against him, and heard a low, deep sigh escape his lips. She reached up and took one of his hands – only one, because she liked the feel of his hands on her tits, and slowly guided it down. Over her stomach, lower still, until his hand was right between her thighs. As sexy as this was, they would have to find somewhere at least a little more private. She moaned softly, then grasped both his hands firmly and turned in his embrace.

“Kiss me,” she said.

He readily obliged. Her arms snaked up around his broad shoulders, as he leaned into her. She heard a small sound of pleasure escape from her throat when his lips met hers. His kiss was hot and soft. It felt like a small fire burning, just a prelude to the flames that would soon envelop her. He grabbed her ass and pulled her tight against him.







The kiss continued, as the intensity of their passion grew. She was trying to think where they could go – maybe the bathroom? Maybe her car? Maybe she would just take him home! He was so perfect, and she wanted to enjoy him. When her phone beeped, he stopped kissing her. He pulled away.

“Shit,” she said, reaching into her purse for her phone. “See you there in 20 minutes,” the text from her friend read.

“Damn. Look, baby, I’ve got somewhere I have to be.”

He looked so disappointed. So was she!

A thought occurred to her. “You know what? I’m just meeting a friend for drinks. Why don’t you come with me? We can get to know each other a little better,” she said, and winked at him. She reached out and ran a hand over the front of jeans.

“Oh,” he said, suddenly shy again.  “I don’t know…”

“Babe. Life is only an adventure if you make it one,” she said. “I’ll let you drive my sexy sports car.” She pulled her keys out of her purse and dangled them in front of him. “And remember what we were just reading about…”


Kissing Zach …

“El, I have to talk to you. I’m coming over after work,” I said into the phone. I was despondent.

“Ro, not tonight. I promised Mason I would cook him dinner.”

“Ellll, pleeeease,” I said. “it’s urgent.”

“We haven’t had a date night in weeks,” she said.

“But you’re the only one I can talk to. Please, El. Pretty, super, pretty please? You can cook for Mason anytime. I am having a transcendental crisis.”

“Do you even know what that means?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “but it sounds right.” I nodded. It did. I was having some kind of crisis, that was for damn sure.

“I hate it when you get needy,” she said. I heard the exasperation in her voice, but I could tell she was going to relent. “What the hell happened? Did Jesse come by the office?”


“You’re usually only this upset when Jesse is involved.”

I closed my eyes and pictured Jesse in my mind. So sexy! Maybe that was all I needed. Something else to think about. It didn’t work. Not even the image of Jesse was enough to distract me from my woe.









“No, not Jesse,” I said. “Something else.”

“Oh, dammit, Ro,” she said. “Mason is going to be so pissed.”

“I’m leaving in ten minutes.” I had to lurk around my office later now, because I didn’t want to run into J Dub, our CEO, as I left the building. I didn’t know if he had heard about me propositioning his son, but I didn’t want to find out. At least not face-to-face in the elevator. Although that was the least of my worries at that moment.

What I had on my mind was Zach, the sweet, sexy guy I’d had drinks with– and well, maybe a little more than drinks –  the previous night. I had miscalculated something along the way, and now I was melancholy, when I should be happy.

As soon as I knew it was coast clear, I left. I slipped into my car and backed out of my space. No one got in my way – everyone knew it was best to wait until I was out of the parking lot before leaving their own spaces. I was always in a hurry, and not too good about mirrors. I slammed into to first gear, and was already in third by the time I reached the end of row. I heard someone lay on the horn as I whipped around the corner, looking in the rear view as I down-shifted. I held up my hand, middle finger extended, and uttered a few choice curses, realizing too late that I had just cut off J Dub.

“Oh, fuck,” I muttered. You’d think I didn’t need this job! Quickly, I raised all the fingers on my hand, and waved. He wouldn’t know it was me. Though I’m sure it would be easy enough to find out who the reckless woman in the black 86 was, if he wanted to. Everyone kind of recognized my car.

“You’re such fuck up, Rowena,” I told myself, as I merged on to the highway. I tapped my nails against the steering wheel, impatient with traffic. I switched on the audio, and Nowhere Fast by Eminem filled the interior of my small car, making the armrest throb and the mirror shiver. That was fine. The song suited my mood exactly. In fact, I was going to make it my personal anthem. “Fuck doin’ what your told. We’re goin’ nowhere fast,” I sang along.








El greeted me at the door. “Amelia! I’m miserable,” I said, pushing out my lower lip.

“Okay, babe,” she said, pulling me into a hug. “I’m sure it’s all going to be fine.”

I shook my head. “I made a terrible mistake.” I followed her into the living room, where she already had a generous glass of my favorite wine poured, the open bottle sitting right next to it on the end table next to “my spot” on her couch. God knows I don’t deserve such a wonderful best friend. I actually felt the sting of tears behind my eyes.

“Ro…” she said. “What’s wrong, babe? Come sit down, and tell me all about it.” She sat on the loveseat across from the couch. I sat down, lifted the wine glass, and downed most of it in one long draught. “So? Tell me.”

“Oh my god, El! I can’t believe I did this!” She waited, sipping her own wine. “Zach…” I said.

“Who the hell is Zach?”

“Oh. He’s this guy,” I said. She didn’t press for more, because they usually were. “I met him for drinks last night.”

“Your usual evening?”

“Yes,” I said draining my glass, and refilling it. “But no.”

“Don’t be cryptic,” she warned. “I’m not getting laid tonight, because you needed to talk. So talk.”

I downed some more wine. “I liked him.”

El stared at me. “You like all of them. That’s why you seduce them.”

“No, El” I said. “I mean I stupid liked him. Like, I wanted to say cute and clever things to make him smile. Like, I want to cook him dinner. He’s smart, and funny, and has a sweet smile. I mean, the conversation was my favorite part of the evening. Well, and the kissing.”










“Oh,” she said. Now she was beginning to understand. “How was the sex?” she asked.

“It was good. Better for me than him, though. This is the worst part, El…” I felt tears threatening again, so I poured the rest of the bottle into my glass and drank it all down in one huge, shaky gulp. “I don’t think he was into me at all. I think he was being polite.”

“Oh,” she said. She stood up. “I think we’re going to need another bottle.”

She picked up the empty bottle, and left me sitting on the couch. I felt like such an idiot. Finer feelings are simply not something I do. But I couldn’t get the memory of Zach’s kisses out of my head. “Oh fuck! Goddamn! Shit, shit, goddammit,” I cried in frustration.

“Ro,” El said, walking directly over to refill my glass. “This is not the worst thing ever.” I looked at her hopefully.

“He’s the first since you met Jesse, right?”

“Quit trying to distract me with Jesse! This has nothing to do with him.”

“Maybe it does, babe. Maybe you’re just transferring your obsession since you can’t consummate your lust with Jesse.” She laughed, and rolled her eyes. “Poor Zach!”

“What the hell good does this psychobabble do me?”

“I don’t know. I just think you need to examine what’s going on. I know introspection is not your thing, but you should probably do some. Do you want him more than Jesse?”

I sucked down some more wine, and considered. “It’s two different things,” I said finally, refilling my glass.

“Gun to your head, babe – one night with Jesse, or a dream date with Zach?”

“That’s not fair!” I swirled my wine, watching it leave viscous tracks on the glass, trying to do the introspection El was demanding. She was probably right. I counted on her to be sensible for me, because god knows I couldn’t do it on my own. But all I really wanted was to silence my thoughts. I hate being conflicted.

“Do you remember the last time you cooked dinner for someone?” El asked.

I racked my brain. “No,” I said, shrugging.

“Me either,” she laughed, “but I do remember you hated him before you even served dessert.”

I shook my head. “That can’t be right,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because I would have been dessert.” We sat quietly for a moment. I could tell El was searching for the magic words to make me feel better. I was just thinking about Zach’s lips on mine. So hot! God, the man knew how to kiss! I wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again…

“I told him about my vineyard,” I said. Planting a vineyard on my land is a dream of mine. It’s a personal thing. I share my dreams far less frequently than I share my body. In other words, besides my sons, El was probably the only person in the world that knew I wanted to plant Cabernet grapes in my backyard. Her brow furrowed. I could tell she was worried now.

“I get it, Ro,” she said. “It was sweet, and soft, and fluffy. But you’re not.”

“I am too! I am the softest, fluffiest…What was the other thing?” I knew I was drunk. “You know what, El?”

“What, babe?”

“Maybe I’m too old for this.”  The tears that had been threatening all day escaped in a single, heavy drop, down my cheek. El jumped up, and sat beside me, pulling me into a hug.

“Oh, bullshit,” she said. “You just need to give up wanting what you can’t have, and concentrate on what makes you happy.”

“What makes me happy, El?”

“Hot, young guys,” she said, without hesitation.

I considered her words, as I stumbled off to bed. I knew she was probably right. She usually was. But it was the memory of Zach’s sweet lips on mine that I fell asleep with.



Lust, Unrequited

We nearly collided as I exited the changing room. “Excuse me,” I heard a deep voice say. I looked up, but bit back my sarcastic reply when I saw him. Oh my God!  He was tall, and fair, and we were at the beach, so I could see how sizzling, hot his body was. Broad shoulders, impeccable pecs, covered with a sexy tuft of hair that made my fingers immediately curve into “want to touch.” I managed to keep my hands to myself. Somehow. He was so fucking delectable, but this was a company picnic. He was attached to one of my coworkers. How incredibly irritating.












I’m sure I blushed when El – my nic for Amelia (Yeah, I know. Don’t ask!) – sidled up beside me and introduced us. “Hey Ro – this is Jesse.”  My thoughts went in a decidedly wicked direction as I smiled and said something inane. Imagine the lustful leap of my heart when he responded by giving my body, sexily clad in the latest “appropriate for women of a certain age” bathing suit, the once over, before his eyes settled unapologetically on my ample cleavage.

“Face here, babe,” I said, tapping my chin, not to show him where to look, so much as to remind myself that, at my age, I look better with my chin up. He grinned. And me? I worried that my suddenly weak knees would give way beneath me. There was some appeal, to be honest, in the thought of sinking to my knees in front of him…

His turn to blush. His sweet, shy smile belied his bold glance at my tits just seconds before. I wanted to pull his head down and nibble on his lower lip. His eyes were blue, like the Mediterranean. I wanted to drown.

Yep, I was head over heels…

“Hey, Jesse,” someone called, to my left. “You ready?”

“I am,” I said, looking into his eyes, hoping my voice was as sultry as I was. I don’t know if he heard me.

“Are you playing volleyball?” he asked.

I laughed. “No.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, nice to meet you,” he said, turning to go. I watched him walk away, his swim shorts hanging just right from the hips I planned to wrap my legs around.

“Put your tongue back in your mouth and wipe your chin, Ro,” El said.

“Oh my god,” I said. “I have got to get me some of that!”

“Not this time,” she said.

I tore my gaze from the retreating form of my Adonis and looked at my friend. It was clear, from her smile, that she knew something I did not. “Why?” I asked, feeling my eyes narrow with suspicion. “I have to, El. I’m going to die without him.”

She laughed. “I’ll start working on the eulogy. That’s Jesse Winchester.” I stared at her, wondering what she could possibly be trying to tell me. “J Dub’s son.”

She laughed again when she saw comprehension dawn.

“Fuck my life,” I said. J Dub – Jack Winchester, was our CEO. Ficky-fick with the boss’s son. Bad idea. “Stop it,” I snapped at El. Her continued amusement only served to highlight my predicament. She was familiar with my escapades, and she knew I did not like “No,” for an answer. In this case, I couldn’t even ask the question.

“The proportion of this tragedy is immeasurable,” I said.

“Aw, babe,” she said, hooking her arm through mine. “There’s plenty of scenery on the beach today. Maybe you’ll find something better.” She started to pull me toward the water.

“Want Jesse,” I pouted, letting myself be led. “There will never be anything better.” I was disconsolate. Not so unhappy that I couldn’t cast my eyes around the veritable smorgasbord of male flesh on the beach, mind, but my heart was broken.

“Let’s go watch volleyball,” I said.

“Rowena. Don’t torture yourself.”

“I just want to look at him,” I said. We both knew that was a lie, but we walked in that direction anyway.

…to be continued.


Deep and Moody, Sexy, Bad Boys

What is it about the bad boys? I’m not talking about the shallow, conceited fops that think they are all that. I’m talking about the dark, brooding type – the self-sufficient, doesn’t need you, or any woman, for that matter, type. The still water that you just know runs deep.


He’s brusque, he’s rough, and a gentleman in his own way. He’ll come over and help you prune your bushes when he sees you struggling on the ladder, but he’ll brush off your invite to stick around for a beer (and whatever) when the job is done. You’ll regretfully watch him retreat, sighing as he walks across your lawn, his firm ass hugged by his tight jeans, inviting a pat or a squeeze.

You see him shirtless, washing his car in the drive on Saturday, seemingly oblivious to the effect he has on you when you see his sweat covered back and broad shoulders glistening in the sun. He goes out for long solitary rides on his motorcycle, and you stare out your window as he leaves, watching him, longing to sit behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, and lean into him. When he mows the lawn wearing only his cut off shorts, well, that is just too much. You retreat to your bedroom and draw the curtains, overcome with lustful longing.

You make excuses to be out in the yard when you think you might catch him. Engaging him in conversation becomes an obsessive goal. You’re sure that if he will just open up to you, he’ll be warm, and sweet, and funny. If he just gets to know you, he’s bound to fall in love with you and sweep you off your feet. He is, you’re quite sure, the perfect guy under that gruff exterior. You bake cookies and bring them to him. The first time he smiles at you, you melt.

You imagine he’s been deeply hurt, and of course, that you can heal him. He just hasn’t met the right woman yet, you rationalize, somehow knowing that it’s you. He was raised by wolves, and simply doesn’t comprehend human social interaction. You fantasize that his wolf nature will overtake him one night, and he will ravage you and make you his own.

If you do manage to get through to him, you find that he is sweet and tender, and loves you better than anyone ever has before. And the sex is fantastic! Yet there is always a part of him that remains inaccessible to you. He can still become moody and withdrawn. It makes you crazy, knowing you will never be able to touch the part of him that drew you to him in the first place. Then the cloud passes, and his mood lifts. You wake up to see him smiling down at you in the sunlight, and all is well in your world.

Well Dressed Men in Sexy Dishabille

I posted about casual attire the other day, and how hot men can look in the right pair of jeans. Well dressed men are equally hot. Maybe even more so.

Hot, sexy, dishabille
Oh yummy!

A man wearing an expensive, well tailored suit exudes sexiness. He is successful, confident,  and knows how to please a woman. Getting him undressed is always a treat! Something about a well-dressed man in sexy dishabille is such a turn on. That crisp, white shirt hanging open, revealing the soft tuft of hair on his chest, and the glory trail leading to untold delights.

It doesn’t matter who unbuckles his belt. It’s hot when he does it, you watch in anticipation. It’s hot when you do it, like unwrapping  a present.  Either way, watching his clothes being removed piece by piece is an incomparable visual pleasure that never fails to entice.



Guys in Jeans

I think I was about 15 when I first noticed there was something about the way certain guys looked in the right pair of jeans…

My girlfriends and I engaged in the the precursor to texting and text speak.  We wrote each other notes while we were in class, to be passed to each other between classes,  read and responded to during the next class, and we did this all day long.  There is one particular acronym we used that I have never forgotten,  and still use,  at least in the privacy of my own thoughts, and that is CLA.  What, you ask, does that stand for? I’ll give you a hint – a note I may have written at the time might have read something like , “I was standing behind <hot guy> at the drinking fountain,  and I was just staring at his CLA.”

Cute Little Ass.  Firm, rounded cheeks, nicely hugged by a pair of tight jeans. Hot!


The evolutionary tale is that, because women have been so long forced to walk behind men, they learned to appreciate the view.

I have never stopped enjoying the view from behind.  I have also learned that it’s not only the view from behind that makes well fitting jeans a treat for the eyes. Hot guys in jeans is just extremely sexy.