Cocktails with Rose

By Rose Maru

Enjoy a titillating journey through the man cavern - that potential space between his ears - which turns out to contain quite the illuminating tour with a wonderfully vast and varied psyche, fleshed and flushed out with the help of a female writer, out into the light of day.
Where I expected 'Boob Farms' and disgusting high-fives of bro-culture, I was blessed with a wonderfully diverse world beyond my wildest dreams (and one swimming pool full of writhing naked women); a world where it turns out, the guys just want to be loved (insert the sound of your loved one's voice here: "Aw!"). Of course, while being wanted, desired, and loved, it didn't mean they weren't up (yes, I meant it that way) for way more action and potential fun in and out of the sheets, streets, and sheeps (just kidding on the last one) than I ever expected.
By taking my Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (HSDD) brain on a tour through "normal guy thoughts," together we explored various themes, fantasies, and dreams to fruitful conclusions and happy endings. (What? Ew! It means *that*? Geez! Seriously, guys, I did the bonus story with you all, so I thought you were done making fun of my small town "charm" (ignorance) and gullibility.)
With two handfuls of men, our travels covered a lot of ground: an airbase in England, advanced robotic technology and deep learning systems, lucky elevators of joy and needs, the trials and troubled tribulations of mixing step-daughters on social media, and a few fetishes thrown in for good measure ("good" being somewhat in the eye of the beholder, the piddler in the pot, and CFNM on the end of his leash.) Plus a whole crowd of additional fun, frolic, and fantasy to fill out the covers (which were thankfully removed from the bedding so they wouldn't get wet in the process: trust me, tossing the sheets in the laundry is no big deal, but that damn comforter is a bugger to clean.)
Women: Be brave, take your man by the handle - I mean, "hand" - and see what you're missing when he's not telling you about his dreams; although you do get a 'wake-up call' to duty that makes you swoon and wonder what sexy beast crawled into bed with you during the night.
Men: Test the waters - prove to yourself you're just as manly as the manliest of men and confirm all those restless wakeful shockers of "Mr. Happy got up before me" aren't just you, but a reflection of a normal, healthy male imagination - partake the joy of seeing those misty half-dreams and fantasies detailed for your further enjoyment during waking hours.
And the super-cool factor beyond this book? I'd love to work with you, especially if you've got your own special dream, fancy, or topic we've missed in what is sure to become a beloved series of collaborative tales. What are you waiting for? Snag a copy and let's get started.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rose Maru
• Release date: Sep 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463940303

Rose Maru

Born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... no, wait, that wasn't me, but sometimes it certainly seems like it.Before getting into all the fun details, I want to clear the air of a rather large aspect of my writing because it has a huge impact on my work: I have HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome). In fact, if it weren't for my HSDS, I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't be there reading this - my previously unpublished writings were explorations into kick-starting my, ahem, 'motor.' I tried to explore anything that might cause a little tingle below, even ideas and concepts my thinking brain refused to hear. Creating an alter-ego in my stories allowed me to safely penetrate the veil of non-existence - I was forced to think about sexy thoughts and situations.I wrote for years covering a wide range of topics, my husband providing a large number of seedlings from which to grow my stories (HSDS... what do you expect? Much to my dismay, what I learned to expect was very raunchy pillow-talk. Much to his dismay, he learned to expect me to leap from bed saying, "Oh! That is so good, I've got to write it down!"). It turns out, writing romantic erotica usually wasn't doing it for me. I gave up on it for a period of time - in essence, I gave up trying to help myself, as well.Then my significant's bright idea: if it didn't help me, maybe it would help someone else. I was back to writing again, or more correctly, preparing my work for release unto an unsuspecting public (I have now officially absolved myself from any evil that befalls you after reading my books - it's all his fault). So I dredged up my folder of rough and unpolished stories - damn, I wrote this much? No wonder I wasn't having sex, I was busy writing about it. (Fib alert: so not true it's not funny. Not the 'not having sex' part, but the lack of bedroom action wasn't really due to my writing.)An odd thing happened, though, as I was rereading my material and editing it. I felt a little something that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I actually felt a little tingle from down below. That soft little call, while editing some stories, started to get a little louder - still very quiet, but it was most certainly there where it hadn't been for decades. I gave in to the siren call almost immediately - surprised the hell out of my husband (thank goodness it wasn't the UPS guy at the door during those moments). Complete, spontaneous, due-to-my-doing rumpy-bumpy. Holy humper, Batman, I'm fixed!I wish. It disappeared again, just as easily slipping back into my 'normal abnormal' routine of never thinking about it within hours. Back to editing. Being the patient sort, I allowed myself to edit a whole three paragraphs before anguish sets in, "It's not working! Ah! I'm broken forever!" Luckily, I have a never say die attitude (Fib alert: ... no, wait, this isn't my stories where I have to include a 'truth' section - let me have my freaking moment), and said, "Piss on it, I'm still going to release my work. I've come this far."And so it went - although much to my joy (and my hubby's) - every so often, I'd find myself showing such obvious responses to passages, it was apparent to even an HSDS girl - and we'd make joy (sometimes several times) to the situation. I wasn't fixed, but at least I had a crutch.Which leaves me editing my old material, exploring new, and tormenting you with it - where I hope it does you some good, too. If it can't make you happy that way, I hope it'll at least provide you a little laugh the other way - especially since I do provide a 'Truth and Consequences' side to all my stories at the end of each book where I detail the nitty-gritty and harsh reality of every piece. This allows everyone's inner voyeur to be released because my HSDS does a great job of preventing me from grasping 'TMI,' so I tend to spill my guts back there in my books.As for my bio (side note: doesn't that make it an 'auto-bio?'), I'm a cute, twenty-one year-old (Fib Alert! Oh my Lord! If you're writing fantasy-fiction, at least make it believable!) - crap, okay, fine, I'm old enough to probably be your sister - from a second marriage - so we're not blood related, which means you don't have to get all weirded out about reading sex stuff about me) - and I live in the Pacific Northwest where I am still happily married to my first husband (very funny - he edits my other fibs so I have to tell the truth, but leaves the happily married one)... at least until he reads the final published product where I changed the truth section in every book back to being brutally honest contrary to his corrections.And, yes, that is me on the cover of all my books, but I'm not spilling the beans here, you have to read the book.

Book preview

:Table of Contents:

- Table of Contents Alphabetical - Table of Contents POV -

Cocktails with Rose Introduction

How To Cock a Tale

Cocktails is Born (I've got a bad feeling about this.)

Heartbreak Hotel

Zing! One-Liners

Fuzzy Point of View

Wild Blue Yonder

Elevator Magic

Do You Think Of Me

BFFF

Keep Away

Thumbs Up

ASI: Artificial Sexual Intelligence

24 Hours

Girl Trapped

Nutter Butter

Night Out

Tidybowl Man

Dive! My Life as a Sub

Cattail

Wants for the Cock-Tale Crowd (Conclusion)

Truth and Consequences

- Master Index -

-Other Works (Bonus Tales)-

:Raindrops on Roses:

:Rose by Any Other Name:

- Braless is Better

:Rose Garden: My Life with HSDS:

- Introduction to HSDS

- HSDS 2014 Redoubt

- HSDS Treatment Trial

:Dozen Roses:

:Coming Up Roses:

- Bigger Brother Cover Shoot

:Rose Wood At Home:

:Wars of Roses:

:Real Randy Rose:

:Buns 'n Roses:

- Take Two

:Covering Rose:

- Raindrops on Roses Cover Creation

:Climbing Rose:

:Chains - Excerpt from my first full-length novel

:Dare to Bare:

- How to Contribute to Dare To Bare

- Comfort Zone

:Love All, Rose:

:Bed of Rose's:

- Introduction: HSDD, Infidelity, Menopause, and Me

- HSDD Helpful Suggestions

:Planet Janet:

:Corn Rose:

:Rose Art - The Infamous Banned Book

Soul Service, Inc. (Excerpt)

:Parade of Roses (the grand master index of Rose kink)

- - - -

About Rose C. Maru

Contact Information

- - - -

Cocktails with Rose: Introduction

Cock Tales? Get it? What a concoction(con-cock-tion)!

A short story collection by men - possibly like you - willing to share a thought, dream, or fantasy and generally just opening up to a stranger messing with their sex lives, semi-real or imagined. Whipping the characters and situations into a frenzy before turning them loose to run with the idea to see where it'll lead. Occasionally with direction, sometimes complete redirection when the story deviates too far from the desired path; but always with the hope to give these special guys a well-deserved treat in further exploration of those lingering thoughts and desires.

We present to you, Dare to Bare (DTB) for men: Cocktales with Rose. Because like the women of DTB, these brave men allowed me the opportunity to enter their most private, inner-most lives to get a glimpse at what many women never get to see... Oh! Ick! Put that thing back away! Ew! Not here! Save it for the stories! (Holy cripes, how'd you get it that firm that fast? Never mind. Honestly, I don't want to know.)

As with my other collaborative works, these individuals have shared a snippet or shard of remembered dream or fantasy - which, together, we work through it and explore the feelings and hopefully generate a wonderful and delightfully sexy story to share here with you.

So I guess... well, Rose, bite the bullet and say it: Unzip your pants, make sure you have appropriate collection vessels and cleaning towels ready, and let's get to it...

... And I'll try to do the same... oh, fucking hell no! I may get wet, but I'm still HSDD: I won't know I did and I certainly am not going to go fingering myself while doing this. Sorry, guys. Maybe squirm a little in my chair, but that's because I shaved recently and itch down there. Not that I have that kind of itch that needs scratching. And, hubby, get your hand the hell away from my crotch - I don't need to know how wet I may have gotten at times, dammit! Geez! We're not even past the introduction, yet! Fuck! Just...

... Start the damn book already!

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Truth - Table of Contents

- - - -

How Does Dare to Bare / Cocktails Work?

(Holy Balls! This is so cool, how can I contribute to the next volume?)

The Dare to Bare / Cocktails concept is to empower women and men to examine warm, tingly thoughts and fantasies in a safe environment with the help of me: a pretend writer trying to find what those folks have that I don't - a sense of sexiness. Often times a silly sense of sexy naughtiness repressed by modern society. I have Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (HSDD). Not only don't I have easily accessible sexy thoughts - hell, turns out I don't usually want to even have sexy thoughts. Only that's rather damaging to a loving relationship. Even I know that, HSDD or not.

Which leaves us with a mix ripe for the plucking: people with sexy thoughts and no confidence to write it out; and me with no sexy thoughts, no TMI filter, and complete confidence to fuck up the English language while pretending I can write. A match made in... well, fuck, not really Heaven, but at least Omaha, or something.

I pander the globe in search of people willing to share these sexy snips of life, dream, and fantasy, from real people, and goad them into permitting me to explore those thoughts and feeling with them. Occasionally lighting fires on embers people long ago thought were completely extinguished; hopefully to their amazement and enjoyment. And together we work on a story, pulling, uh, everything together in just the right way to fully satisfy, the, um, er, is that thing supposed to be leaking like that? Sure, I can wait while you take care of something. (BRB? Like Beating Really Bad? What's beating? You can see your heartbeat? Where? Oh! Geez! No, I didn't need a mental picture of...)

I'm joking (sort of). By sharing your stories with me, I can experience regular-brain sexy thoughts; and in the process help you find those lost memory details. Or possibly create new ones. All through the magic of the internet and e-mail. As long as you give me a try (and something to work with beyond, There was this time I fucked my girlfriend so hard her vagina swelled to twice it's normal size; she was screaming and hollering for me to fuck her harder, because she came like six times. Then I did her friend the same way while she licked my balls to keep me going. (Which, honestly, how could her friend bend around to that degree to lick your balls? I mean, I've heard the joke, Why does a dog lick his balls? Because he can. - but, that's just not physically possible for a woman to get vaginal intercourse while licking... hold on, my editor gave me a note... Ew! You mean it's two women... oh. Never mind.# )

Anyway, I hope you can appreciate there's some things I can't really work with to create a valid, fun story to read. Other times, when the guys are being heart-stopping open with me, it's incredible the things we can find together. And I truly appreciate those special moments. Even when the men think they've provided so little to start, that it's not worth it to even mention it - until we fill in a few details - explore a little more - set up the characters - the situation - and let them run. Honest, it doesn't take much in some instances to create multiple ideas and storylines. And if you're not careful, you might like one in particular... but those others not used? I'll rip off your idea and create my own; and we'll get two stories out of your idea, because I'm happy to help you achieve liftoff and get your goods to the goal line, if you get my drift; plus write out my own story version later (which I will eventually share with you, but only after you finalize your own fantasy piece as I don't want to foul up your path to discovery).

How does this whole thing work? How about an example from this book:

Elevator Magic started out as this rather extensive amount of information and detail I got almost first thing after asking a gentleman about any lingering fantasy or recurrent dreams (I hope you can see the difference between the idea below and the 'fucked her raw' brag above - one of which sets up for an awesome tale that even an HSDD gal could get into) (non-italic version)...

I have this dream where I'm in an elevator going to an upper floor. The elevator stops and a woman gets on. She is a stunning beauty! Long flowing hair that hangs over her shoulders, classic face, green eyes, full, sensual mouth with bright red lipstick. She's wearing a conservative but tailored business suit, jacket over a white silk blouse and a straight line skirt. She smiles at me and turns to the front of the car. The doors close and we begin moving again. She turns to face me and smiles seductively. The kind of smile that promises many things and seems to say This is going to be fun!. She unbuttons her jacket and then her blouse and pulls it open to reveal perfectly shaped boobs with her nipples standing out proudly at attention. As she runs her hands over her tits, playfully flicking the nipples, her eyes never leave mine. She reaches down and grabs her skirt and pulls it up revealing long perfectly formed legs encased in sheer stockings held up with a lacy garter belt and no panties. She squats down and unzips my pants and takes out my cock, which by now is fully erect and twitching. She begins to suck my cock and tweak and twist her nipples. After a few minutes of this, she puts her hand down between her legs and begins to rub her pussy. Just as I'm getting close to cumming, she stops and puts my cock back in my pants. She straightens up, smooths her skirt down, buttons her blouse and straightens her clothes. Then she leans in, gives me a delicious lingering kiss and puts something in my hand. Just then the elevator opens and she gets out and walks down the hallway. I look down to see what she gave me. It's a key to a hotel room. The kind that is a plastic oval shaped thing that has a hotel name and room number stamped on it in gold. (Yeah. I know. They haven't used those kind of hotel keys for many years. I told you, it's an old dream.)

Then I woke up.

-

With this detailed dream recap, Elevator Magic popped out of it as we fleshed out the details, explored ideas and suggestions to help stimulate any hidden or forgotten aspects, along with a little fun here and there. And the final version was actually one of several potential directions that were considered - yet it was the one that seemed best to fit the original dream (and dreamer - whom I am eternally grateful for him being the guinea pig for me to try this with a guy (ha! And you thought it would be my husband... and you would be so woefully wrong - but we'll get to that later in the book).)

So if you're a guy, or know one that might be interested in taking part in our weird experiment, feel free to contact me and let's see if we can make a little magic happen with your dream or fantasy. (Missing a Y-chromosome, but still want to try this? That's what the Dare to Bare book and project are all about, so if you're the fairer sex, drop me a line as well!)

Convinced you have a sexy story in you just waiting to be released? E-mail me! ( [e-mail] ) Or if you like, read a few stories, see how the game is played, then e-mail me so we can see your story in the next collaborative collection.

-

On Dasher! On Dancer! On Condom and Cupid! On... oh, oops, wrong tale (tail?). But I still appreciate the use of a condom. Thanks. Hugs - Rose

- - - -

Truth - The original Dare to Bare 'How To' Info - Table of Contents

- - - -

#Sorry, the quote here was a joke - I ripped it partially off one of the stories in this collection (BFFF) because I actually felt bad having to tell more than one person their high five, I'm a sex god three sentence 'story' about what they did wasn't a dream, fantasy, or material I could work with to generate a multidimensional story... no matter how many different positions they did the deed in those three sentences. This resulted in my refusal to use any of the handful of those actual non-story story ideas I received (much to my disappointment, because some were quite funny... but in the wrong way. I would've been laughing at people, not with them). And I used the ball-licking joke because I came up with it for the final story, it wasn't part of the original fantasy/dream my dumb-ass collaborator (don't panic... I don't call any of my other collaborators this, only this particular special individual, who also happens to be my editor-in-residence) gave me. Sorry, maybe I was supposed to say, Spoiler alert? - Return from footnote -

- -

Cocktails and Elixirs of Peril - The Idea Was Born

(... and I may need a lot more alcohol to do this)

My brain excitedly rushes along with my idea of creating Dare to Bare for guys... because, well, many reasons! Not the least of which is admitting hubby was right: I don't want guys pretending to be women so they can write a story with me (conceited? Of course! I pretend to be a fucking author! Of course I'm fucking conceited as hell!). But that inkling of an idea to write out boys' fantasies and dreams like we did the women - that sounded pretty cool. I'd get to see how guys think; and probably confirm what I've always suspected: I dream of boobs. Lots and lots of boobs!

Thus, being the over-sharing type, I want to blurt it out to the world. Only, this involves the me that I can't let work / regular nine-to-five folks around me know about. Dammit! I'm going to fucking burst if I can't share my idea with...

Randy! Thank God! I need you!

Ha. Not falling for it, my husband blandly says (which I don't fucking get his stupid-ass quote until later. Much later. Asshole.)

I have this great idea! I'm going to do up stories for men like I did for women in Dare to Bare!

"That's a bad idea."

No, it's great, you even said...

"Either you are going to get hurt, or they are going to get hurt... or both of you are going to get hurt. Just sayin' - before you even get your answer, you need to be ready for what you hear. Both in the original fantasy you hear and the correction and directions you'll get in the development."

"BS!* I did it with the women! Hell, you're mostly a girl - I can start with you!"

It's still a bad idea. But if you really want to know mine, they all typically center - well, at least half - Jeez! I'm a freaking guy! Come on! It's a central theme: I want to be wanted. I want to feel and experience that all-out desire of being pursued. The other person actually wanting me and wanting to experience intimacy - yes, sexual too - with me. And I get to live the dream of being seduced by someone willing to risk it all - because of me, and her desire to have me. From subtle flirt to blatantly overt, sexual advances - I want to think I'm someone special. Sorry!

And I'm trying to figure out if I should be writing this down, if he's serious, or what. Or maybe I should be listening because moron is still talking...

... And doing anything with my ideas is sort of mute, you know, he blathers onward. Because you stole my entire 'pre-you' life of relationships and turned it into Real Randy Rose.

Wait - that's not at all what I'm talking about. I need a fantasy! Something gooey, and hot, I can't help but try to sound seductive, Something you really don't want your wife to know about...

Right. Because I like sleeping on the couch?

No! I won't get all weird about it. Well, probably not. Uh, maybe we should wait and see what the other men have to say. Wait - it's not like you want to, you know... with a guy or something do you? I can't help the small amount of disgusting interest creeping into my voice.

No - but it'd probably be a shitload safer than anything else I won't be telling you; so, uh, sure! It's with a guy.

Is he cute? I'm starting to get interested. Glad I started to pay attention to what he was saying.

Who?

The guy!

What guy?

That's in your fantasy! I'm desperate to get him back on track.

Oh, sorry, thinking about something else.

Dammit! You're thinking about an actual fantasy, aren't you! Spill!

"Uh, right - a guy. I'm sure she's cute, she's... I mean, he! He's cute. Oh! Fine - a safe one, his eyes brighten like he has the answer. That gal who does the voice for Cheryl/Carol/Cherylene on Archer!"

No. You can't be serious. She's a cartoon character.

You have to admit, that outlaw country outfit she wore was smokin' hot.

"Oh, you cannot be serious! That was so freaking cliché! Boots, short-shorts, and tied off button-up plaid-shirt?"

No... her voice. And the singer they got to do her songs for her... uh, Jessy Lynn Mertens?

I don't know which is worse - you're fantasizing about a voice, or you remember all those names.

I didn't mention Judy Greer by name.

"So you have looked her up!"

Wait - you're getting that tone in your voice. You said I could...

"... but I know you scope out a room by listening. So I know you are seriously thinking she's hot. Do you even know what she looks like?"

Does it matter? When the lights go out...

Stop. Right. There. Buster.

Seriously! Listen to her... she's doing the utmost impossible: acting with just her voice, nothing else - and making it completely believable, even without all those subtle little facial and body language cues. And it doesn't hurt it sounds...

I quote Aisha: 'Nyope!' Not going there. And you're not either, I try to end this diversion and get back to cute, naked guy. (Not even realizing: Holy shit! Aisha's voice is in that same stupid show he's talking about!)

I bet she's already married.

Don't freaking sound so disappointed, buster! You are so...

Told you. If you're going to get this freaked out about an actress, how are you going to deal with anything that could potentially...

"Wait - your fantasy involves people we know? That is not cool."

And, again, I point out: 'I told you so'?

Stop stealing my British question mark outside the quotation marks! You're just trying to distract me from being pissed at you!

'Lana. Lana? Lana! ... Danger Zone.'

Wait.... she doesn't say that.

Nyope! But it's funny in that paragraph anyway, he takes a deep sigh - ah, resignation - I love it when I finally get my way. "Fine. You wanna see how bad this could be? What if during my bachelor party* I was made to prove my worthiness to my future wife; you know - demonstrate a certain oral proficiency if you will. On each of them. One after the other. All of them lined - "

"What the fucking hell?! We still see some of those women! How could you even... I mean, one of them was practically your sister! Another your best friend. The other five... No. That is not funny in any way shape or form, especially since six of them didn't know your ex or what she said about your 'proficiency.'"

But what if they needed proof I could 'lick the kitty to beat the band'? Not like it'd take more than an hour or so to service all seven -

"I said, no. What part of 'No' are you not getting?"

Too close to home? he asks.

Of fucking course it's too close to home! I mean, there's a small chance at least two of them possibly, almost, - you know!

"As in, 'OMfG# - if they had invented 'friends with benefits' just ten years earlier, they would've known... ?"

"You wouldn't have dared. No. Stop. Do not answer that question. Just shut the hell up. Point taken, thank you very much - asshole."

For the record: no, it's not a fantasy. I mean, holy cripes, one of them is practically my sister! And she's the one that after her wedding boudoir shoot had the nerve to explain how she got such great facial expressions: 'I kept thinking how much I wanted you during the shoot. It made it easy to get that look.'

She did not. Oh. Shit. She probably did. Shit. You two trust each other way the hell too much. But thank you for admitting that's not a fantasy, because, damn, that's... that's not cool, sweetie.

But I did warn you it would cause discomfort. And that's not even a bad one, it's just an idea that I thought might get a visceral, knee-jerk response out of you to keep you from digging around, okay?

Truce.

(Of course, 'Truce' doesn't mean I'll give in, give up, or not do it. It just means it was getting too close to meal time to continue his inane argument that this book wouldn't or couldn't happen. One guess who actually won that argument? Oh! Oops! The book your holding sort of gives that away, huh? Take that Mr. Lick-The-Kitty!)

- - - -

Truth - Table of Contents

- - - -

*BS (Bull Shit. American idiom for No fucking way or Horse pucky or - dammit, circular definitions. Sorry. Pardon? Why give the definition at all? I just finished trying to read a book from some uber-popular pop-tart that thinks she can write a memoir at the ripe-old-age of twenty-three. Only she spoke only in abbreviations - in the fucking book, people! A hardcover book! - and she only wrote in clipped sentences. Which left half-century old me completely clueless what the hell she was trying to say YOLO this AF that and a shit-ton (idiom for buttload, which is an idiom for lots) of others until I gave up. Bust (a magazine I try not to read, but my husband unfortunately checks it out of the library) had recommended it. Right. Anyway, it left me hypersensitive about abbreviations that seem obvious to the writer... but not necessarily the reader. (Me? I'll screw you every way to Sunday - but hopefully in only good ways. I like you too much. So hang tough and feel free to ignore the idiom footnotes.) My apologies if BS is so standard, it's BS I'd even bother defining it as Pile of worthless stuff. (which we all know, because real manure sort of makes the modern world go around by enhancing agricultural production, thus the usual intended common meaning of BS is, well, BS.) - Return from Footnote -

#OMG/OMfG (Oh My (fucking) God; or for the religious - Oh My (father-fucking) Gawd; or for the hyper-religious - Oh My (father's stars) Graciousness!) (I am nothing if not flexible. And that's the truth.) - Return from Footnote -

- -

Heartbreak Hotel - You're Not Alone

The Saddest Fantasy I Received... Five Times

I don't even know how to do this, except to warn you: like a tape bandage applied directly to the skin, I'm going to pop it off quick, so you can get to the fun and frolic that makes up a majority of this collaborative work. A recurrent fantasy so strong and shared by so many, half of our faithful followers that contributed to this collective work of fantasy fun, first turned in the same, freaking, make-me-cry idea:

My Fantasy? You'll think I'm stupid. Or I'm ignorant. Or pigheaded. But I'm not being mean about this... but my number one fantasy? I want my wife back.

I had to rewrite this Heartbreak chapter several times, because when I wrote it the first time, my introduction said: Three times this was reported to be what our brave contributor dreamed or fantasized most about. Wife 'lost' due to Death, HSDD, and