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Plus, she's really hot, and that's not helping you be smart. Acropolis City, the center of super-human and caped crusader activity in this particular world - with its own dizzying highs and lows, high-tech skylines and slums standing in stark, four-color contrast, it provided everything that a costumed megalomaniac or masked vigilante could ask for.

In fact, as is usually the case where colorful masked characters are the norm, it has become something of an institution by this point. But although the mere existence of costumed heroes and villains no longer shocks people, these people - who, by their very nature, thrive on attention - keep finding new ways to stand out from the crowd and attract the eye. This last goal tends to get a lot of emphasis in the most simple, sexualized way possible. For reasons that the world's most brilliant scientists have yet to explain, latent super-abilities seem to manifest more often in women than men by a ratio of 3 to 1 or more.

This is true even when the superpower isn't "natural"; paranormal artifacts fall into their hands, esoteric martial arts schools never seem to have a male heir, the technological prototypes they test always seem to be the ones that are most easily used or abused for good and evil. Unfortunately, the glory days of the past where citizens were happy to see any old masked do-gooder show up are over - in recent years, Acropolis City has established a ranking system of heroes where those who get high marks from the citizens and resolve incidents are rewarded with corporate sponsorships and most coveted of all seats at the prestigious League of Propriety.

Those who intimidate the populace, cause excessive collateral damage, or simply don't excite anyone, garnering low rankings, get 'asked' to move to less prestigious cities. Few superheroes want to get stuck battling clans of villainous hillbillies and corrupt small-town sheriffs for the rest of their careers, so they're always eager to please the influential citizens of Acropolis City judges, eminent scientists, first responders, and of course the all-important reporters. On the other side of the law, a similar dynamic predominates; only the most glamorous and charismatic costumed ne'er-do-wells can make it in this town.

And so, the novice superheroines just learning the ways of battling for justice and order, without any team to back them up, always end up patrolling the skeeviest, most undesirable slums of the city and taking on the most thankless rescues. As if that weren't troublesome enough, the superhuman mutations that make so many of these heroes' careers possible also result in greatly increased sexual sensitivity, particularly in females. The adventures and misadventures that these spandex-clad lady crusaders get into are often too hot to print for the kind of comics that their young admirers would read.

Messy mistakes will be made, but you don't want to disappoint your readers, do you? So let the League know what kind of superheroine you are, your chosen name, powers, and appearance, and they'll send you out on your first patrols.

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There's always something new to discover It's time for Xana's physical, but is she ready to be disrobed and probed by a strange alien doctor? Fortunately for Xana, Dr. Ninx has magic fingers that leave her gasping and panting for more. And his fingers are just the beginning! Follow Xana as she goes where no woman has ever gone before, exploring the limits of both outer and inner space in her effort to help Jargo and his band of curiously sexy aliens fight an empire of evil using the only weapon she has: her voluptuous, nubile body.

Xana chewed her lip, glancing nervously over at the door.

Let's make this a little more private. Ninx helped her up off the examination table and led her by the hand to his office. The office was very small and cramped, stacked high with boxes and containers of all sorts. Xana guessed they were more medical supplies. There was an old-fashioned wooden desk facing a little window that looked out on the door to the infirmary. The blinds were open a crack, but Ninx pressed a button, closing them.

A soft, buttery light from a lamp made the room feel oddly warm and cozy. Turn around and bend over the desk. Xana regarded him skeptically but did as instructed. She turned to the desk and leaned down over the empty half of it, resting her stomach on its surface with her legs spread. She wrapped her hands around the far edge of the desk, holding on as if she might fall off.

She suddenly became very aware of how exposed and vulnerable she was. The flesh is willing, but the spirit is weak. Though his friends call him Basar, Basarel is no ordinary angel. Before he Ascended, he was an ordinary man and the worst of philanderers. Now that he's reformed, he takes his duties very seriously.

Which is why he doesn't take kindly to the attempt on Angela's life by a mysterious assailant in a hoodie. Granted, Angela shouldn't have been walking alone through a parking garage in the middle of the night, but nobody's perfect, least of all the woman whose commitment to work has already cost her a marriage and any hope she had of starting a family.

But this not-so-chance encounter is about to take Angela's life in a new and surprising direction, introducing her to a world of angels and devils, in which down is up, black is white, and it's not always easy to tell the saints from the sinners. The world's supernatural underbelly -- invisible to all but the most sensitive humans -- is filled with demons, dream worlds, and occult powers. But it's no fairytale: violence, perversion, and bone-chilling terror are all a part of life for the spiritually blighted. Basar -- Angela's would-be guardian angel -- is about to have a real fight on his hands with some of the sickest, cruelest psychopaths he's ever encountered.

The war between Heaven and Hell is heating up. At stake are the souls of every man and woman on Earth; the battlefield, their too-temptable bodies.

Something must be done, and it's up to Basar to make it happen. Is Angela strong enough to accept the conditions of his unusual proposal, or will she return to the safe, soulless conformity of her dreary previous life, blissfully sheltered from the growing metaphysical chaos surrounding her? Angela pulled the Honda Fit out of the parking lot into the street. She glanced over at the beautiful stranger, her heart thumping hard in her chest. Basar was so big he seemed to fill the car. His hand was resting lightly on his knee; long, strong fingers pale against the fabric of his pants.

She glanced at his face, his flawless, angular profile blocking the light coming in through the window. He was a work of art. There's a little Indian place just a few blocks down," he said. It's not like you can take him home with you, Angela. That's how nice girls get themselves murdered. Like you almost were tonight, she thought soberly. She remembered the flash of the knife and felt a sick, squirming sensation in her stomach.

Or if not murdered, at least brutally raped. How had it happened? It seemed unreal, like it had happened to someone else. She couldn't believe she'd come so close to pain, trauma, death. She'd been oblivious, like a swimmer who doesn't know there's a shark diving straight at her. She remembered the look on the hooded man's face.

Pure, unadulterated lust. But more than that.

There'd been victory in his eyes as well. The gleam of pride. Like the face of Satan himself. She shuddered. And then this beautiful man saved you, she thought, glancing over at Basar once again. She couldn't keep her eyes off him.

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Jenny his girlfriend , Katie his best friend , and Lisa his ex-girlfriend aren't going to stand for it. They're going to march right over to Tyrone's place and give him a piece of their mind. Well, you know how that goes. What do you expect when you put three smoking hot white girls in front of a big, beautiful black bull like Tyrone? First, they start to forget why they're there. Then, sooner or later, the panties drop. Too bad for Danny, he's in love with all three of them.

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Three times. Danny was afraid this would happen. But he's going to make things right Banging the Bully is the sexy, tragi-comic tale of Danny, a small, inadequate white boy, being repeatedly and relentlessly cucked by his big, black, alpha male bully. Shocking, degrading, and at times downright disgusting, this lurid and reprehensible tale of interracial "uptight-white-girl to black-bully-babymama" conversion is sure to make you lose your faith in men, women, humanity, race relations, writers, and everything else you hold dear. Tyrone read the screen, looked at her, forced his hand deeper into her panties.

The tip of his finger found her clit and circled around it, giving her a thrill of pleasure so intense her whole body shivered. Ur paranoid I'm busy , Jenny slowly texted back. It was hard to do with only one thumb.