Swan Songs

Swan Songs, extracts from my life with Stardust Twinkles, is the first installment of ‘The Stardust Diaries.’


Tarn Swan details life with his transgender partner, Jonathan Lane, or as he’s better known in certain circles, Stardust Twinkles.

Extract

16th August 2005:

Pink Rubber Fetish

I incurred Twinkles’ wrath this morning and as a result I’m finding sitting something less than a comfortable experience on account of having a bruised backside. Twinks turned heavy-handed Dom, surely not? Let me explain.

We’d just finished breakfast and I was clearing the table and stacking all the things that needed to be washed by the side of the sink, including a Flora margarine tub whose contents we’d used up. Twinks was washing up. He’s a sight to behold on a summer’s morning, standing at the sink wearing nothing but his pink mules and a pair of pink rubber washing up gloves, shaking his thing to whatever music is playing on the CD player. He washed up the plates and mugs, but dropped the empty margarine tub into the kitchen bin. I immediately remonstrated with him and fished it back out, dropping it into the washing up water to be washed, saying it might come in useful. In doing so I touched a nerve that had obviously been growing in sensitivity for some time.

He glared at me. ‘Useful is it, exactly how useful?’ Before I could make reply he trip-trapped across the kitchen and flung open one of the cupboard doors. With one pink rubber clad hand clamped firmly to a hip and the other flung out like a game show glamour girl indicating a prize, he said waspishly, ‘you mean useful like these? So useful in fact they have never been used and have been taking up a growing amount of shelf space for years?’ I was forced to admit there were rather a lot of them. I hadn’t realised quite how many. I got the Twinkles’ glare again followed by a tirade about having to have an extension built just to house my collection of questionably useful empty margarine tubs.

I admitted, testily, that okay perhaps there was no need to save the margarine tub we’d emptied at breakfast and dropped it back into the waste bin. Did this appease my cross little glamour puss? Did it heck. He was in full flow and it would take a muzzle to silence him. What was it about empty margarine tubs anyway? It amounted to a fetish. Was I secretly planning on constructing a life size model of Buckingham Palace from them when I’d collected enough? I (it was claimed) complained enough about his bad habits. Well this was one of my habits that drove him right up the wall. He wasn’t putting up with it any longer, was that absolutely clear? I nodded and humbly promised not to save any more empty margarine tubs. It wasn’t enough. He wanted the ones in the cupboard throwing out, now, that very moment.

I was aghast. They represented years of prudent washing and saving. He was adamant. They had to go. He hated to disillusion me but they had never been useful, they never would be useful. I had to face that fact and let them go with dignity. By way of softening the blow he said I could keep four, just on the off chance they might come in useful. I begged for six, a neat half dozen, but he stood firm. The choice was four or none at all.

To be truthful I have no idea how or why I developed a compulsion to save empty margarine tubs. It must be some genetic kink stemming from my more frugal Scottish ancestry. Getting rid of them turned out to be really rather liberating. It was like casting off a shackle.

Power was very obviously an aphrodisiac for Twinks. After I’d obediently cleared the cupboard of all but four of the tubs, he displayed himself against the kitchen table and requested that I worship his totem for a change and do a bit of bottoming. He looked so wonderfully wanton, sporting nothing but an erection and a pair of pink rubber gloves that my passions were at once inflamed and I hastened to comply with his orders. He lay on his back on the kitchen table and I lubed all appropriate parts and squatted astride him, impaling myself on his totem as it were.

In the heat and height of passion he gripped my rear with his hands in order to aid my movements and keep his cock buried more deeply inside me. I used my own hands, or one of them, to aid and abet my own pleasure. Once the fireworks had stopped exploding I smiled happily into his flushed face and he smiled happily back. Then his smile froze slightly and a puzzled look came over his face, as he tried to take his hands away from my buttocks and found he couldn’t. The rubber gloves had become sticky with our combined body heat and had bonded to my skin. In effect we were well and truly glued together.

Panic set in. Twinkles was terrified to tug too hard in case he pulled away a layer of my skin along with the gloves. He had terrible visions of the police breaking in because no one had seen us for days and discovering us bonded together by a pair of rubber gloves. The story would make The News of the World and be promoted as some weird gay BDSM ritual that had gone wrong. We’d never be able to show our faces in public again. I was edging towards panic myself. Apart from anything else my knees and shins were aching from their contact with the hard tabletop. I was longing to stand up and stretch my legs. I told him to stay calm, take deep breaths and try to manoeuvre his hands out of the gloves. Thankfully he managed to do so and we successfully uncoupled.

It was with some dismay that I twisted around to inspect the situation. I did not fancy trundling down to the hospital casualty department with a pair of pink rubber gloves adhered firmly to my bottom. It would cause uproar, but nor did I fancy spending the rest of my life trailing around with a pair of rubber hands lewdly groping my arse. Twinkles suggested I try a warm bath with plenty of bath oil to see if it would help soak them off. Thank goodness it did the trick. The oil softened the rubber and I was able to carefully peel the gloves away from my tender skin without too much trouble. They left a couple of friction bruises, but no skin loss. My relief was profound.

Twinkles hugged me and I noted with concern that he was shaking…with laughter as it turned out, the little toad. His eyes sparkling with amusement he said that he’d always known we were stuck on each other, but that was ridiculous. We both ended up indulging in a fit of the giggles, then we got dressed and had coffee and biscuits. He sat on my lap as we drank our coffee and chatted. The sun streamed through the window casting sparkles of light around the kitchen. I was happy, he was happy. Life was good. It suddenly struck me that I was in the midst of an indelible memory moment. At some point in the future I knew I would remember this morning’s events with clarity, perhaps just after he died, or just before I died. I didn’t want to think about it too closely, as it would turn joy to sadness. Instead I wrapped my arms around his waist and told him how much I loved him.

I suppose the moral to this tale is twofold, first…never have frenetic sex with someone wearing rubber gloves, and second…always tell the one you love how much you love them while you are yet able to hold and kiss them.

We’re both on holiday from work this week. I’m not sure what we’re going to do with it yet, apart from laze around and have sex while not wearing any kind of rubber garments. We had been toying with going on one of those last minute bargain holiday breaks to Italy or Greece, but that’s no longer an option, not since my doctor advised against going abroad this year. We’ll probably just head out for day trips or overnight stays somewhere.



D/s Romance…M/M stories with a discipline theme

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Like a Father, by Shannon Pearce, Beau to Beau books

Blurb:
Todd’s sister had married a loser, and was now divorced from a loser. She and her stepson, always welcome in Todd’s enormous house, were now living with him. Todd was like a father to Kyle, the young man he had nicknamed Scout, and Kyle loved the man he had come to know as Uncle Todd. Having no idea that this young man, who would be in college soon, had feelings for his soon-to-be male roommate, Todd is surprised when Kyle shares with him his concerns about his own sexuality. Kyle knows that Todd his gay. Todd has never kept that a secret from anyone. When Kyle comes to Todd one afternoon while he is sunbathing in the nude by his pool, the only thing he can do is what he has always done, and be like a father to this young man. Neither Kyle nor Todd is certain, however, of the unspoken boundaries of their close relationship. At Amazon, All Romance ebooks, 1Romance ebooks.

Excerpt:
Kyle was good at everything he did. He was good in school, good at sports, and yet he was very humble. Deanna had raised him well, practically all by herself. Kyle, or Scout, had been on the swim team in high school and his abilities had earned him a scholarship which was paying for much of his college. He had a lean build from the sport, and had filled out nicely over the last couple of years. He looked like a man now. He carried himself with a great deal of confidence. Kyle was built like his dad, about the only good thing that had come of Todd’s sister’s marriage, according to Todd, and because of the bulge in his pants, Todd could tell that Kyle also carried a rather large tool, just like his dad.

Todd had had a very brief fling one night with Kyle’s father, when the two of them had gotten drunk together. He had bet Todd that he couldn’t get off on a man giving him a blowjob, and Todd had proven him wrong, very wrong. The man had enjoyed it, too much for his own taste, and had spent much of his married life sleeping with other women just to prove that he was straight. Deanna had never known about Todd’s one little tryst with her husband, and never would, if Todd had anything to say about it. He knew that her ex wouldn’t say anything. He had been far too embarrassed to admit that he had had the best orgasm of his life the night that Todd had sucked him off.

Fortunately, Kyle did not have the arrogance of his father, just the body. Todd only hoped that Kyle didn’t know about his father’s many indiscretions during his marriage to his sister. The man had had his share of women. That was for sure. Eventually, Deanna had had enough and asked for a divorce.

“Make yourselves at home,” Todd had said, showing them to their rooms. “You’ve got the entire upper floor to yourselves.” Todd looked at his sister’s somewhat sad eyes, and hoped that the kid would be all right, anyway.

***

“Your house is beautiful, Todd,” Kyle had said. “Thanks, Kyle. I didn’t expect you to notice something like that, but I like your taste,” Todd had teased. Todd made a pretty good living, and being single, he had no one to spend his money on, except of course is nephew, so the house he lived in was rather large and very tastefully decorated. One of his former lovers was a decorator, so the house was really quite a showplace by even the toughest standards. “A friend of mine decorated it,” he said, not wanting to say the word lover in front of Kyle, although Kyle knew about his Uncle Todd, of his homosexuality.

Being eighteen and very self confident, Kyle was not shy about asking questions or speaking his mind. “Todd, can I ask you some things?” he said one day while his mom was still at work. “Sure, Scout, sit down, take a load off.”

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TOUCH by Clare London

TOUCH by Clare London

A novella available at Dreamspinner Press

A powerful but pampered lord, Chariz has no interest in a single slave thrown at his feet, until he finds out the man is no slave at all. Oriel may be an empath--or a Magician--or a charlatan, even, and his mysterious allure draws Chariz closer. But Oriel's touch is a prize that others crave, too, putting him in mortal danger. Chariz must decide whether he will pay the price of Oriel soothing his desires and needs, when that price may demand a shocking sacrifice - from them both.



(note : this was previously published in a shorter form in the anthology Masquerade)


EXCERPT:

Oriel stirred on the bed, obviously hearing me. His eyes slid half open, his gaze catching the reflection of my lamp, the pupils luminous in the dimmed room.

“Get up,” I said sharply.

He struggled up to a sitting position, glancing around to see where I had brought him. He rubbed the back of his hand across his face in a sleepy gesture, and I felt that strange frisson again.

“Are you recovered?” I asked abruptly.

His eyes hooded briefly, and he nodded. He swung his legs slowly over the side of the deep mattress. “Thank you for allowing me to rest,” he said softly. “They only see your arrogance and aggression. You hide your compassion well.”

“You sound like a memory-caller at the fairground stalls,” I snapped. “Trite, cheap talk. Or do you expect some payment for it? You can have the lick of my whip around your shriveled balls, if you like.”

He didn’t flinch, a slim, half-bare figure swamped by the plump comfort of my fleeced covers. “I know that’s your way. You use crudeness and cruelty to intimidate them all. To keep people away from you.” His voice was a little sluggish but still absorbing. “You’re respected in your work, but they’re all scared of you. They obey you without question. They accept your lies as truth.”

“Lies?” My heart beat a little faster. “I prefer to call it diplomacy, fool, and you’ll watch that tongue, or I’ll slash it off for sport and let the servants season the supper broth with it!”

He shook his head, eyes wide. “No, not the lies of politics, of your work. I meant the lies to yourself, the lies about your love for your mother, about your loneliness, about the loss of your younger brother—”

I struck him then, and the slap of the blow reverberated around the room. He cried out and slid off the bed on to the floor, scrambling with hands and knees to keep his balance.

“How dare you talk about me with such familiarity!” I growled. “Who gave you that right?”

“You did,” he gasped. “You spoke to me, sir! Your sadness, your anger. I can’t deny it. The connection’s rarely been so strong. I didn’t know any better than to say it.”

I bent down to him, wrenching his head back again. There was a red, shining weal on his face made by my hand. His pupils were dilated, and he was panting slightly. “Is this how you inspire people to connect with you, Oriel? With violence?”

“Sometimes,” he whispered. His gaze met mine, a braver resistance than any of my servants had ever shown after such a blow from me. “They do what they want. As a child, they often struck me. Now I’m older…. Sometimes they use me instead.”

I grimaced. “Is that what the captain did? Saved you from the common soldiers only to use you himself? What kind of protection is that?”

“It’s how I serve.” His voice was teasing at my nerves again, yet the tone was steady and almost unemotional.

I didn’t often feel so lost in a situation, let alone admit it aloud. “You’re a ridiculous mystery, Oriel! You describe yourself as a helpless, passive victim, used by your masters sexually and otherwise and still following like a household dog, begging for more abuse. Yet your eyes show strength you shouldn’t have.” I looked back down on them, which was perhaps my greatest mistake. But I couldn’t help myself. I felt drawn into his weird, disorienting gaze. Even as I felt unfamiliar shame at losing my temper with him, I wanted the touch again. Far from finding him insipid and disinteresting, I now felt the strongest flame of desire that I’d ever known flaring suddenly to life inside me.

He drew in a deep gasp as if he’d felt it too. I let go of his hair and forced myself upright again. For a moment I was frozen there above his kneeling form, trying to regain control over my feelings. My trousers tightened across my groin, and my fingertips brushed lightly across the flat muscles of my belly, tormenting the goose bumps that sprang in response. My body ached, fiercely.

I groaned. “Is this your magic working on me?”

“It comes from you,” he whispered. His face was level with my groin, his hands fisted gently at his sides. He dropped his gaze away from mine and turned instead to my arousal, straining against the fine cloth. “I can only respond. Let me serve you.” With gentle but confident hands, he teased down the fabric, letting my cock spring out to blessed freedom. I tried to remember when I’d last been swollen so hotly, so swiftly….

Never.

His mouth was damp and warm, and it sucked me in with a youthful enthusiasm. I stumbled back against the bed, keeping myself upright, supporting my thighs against the mattress. I gripped his hair and wound it around my fingers, guiding his head back and forth along me. His tongue licked gently as he sucked, circling regularly around the head. It was a caress that I was especially fond of, and one that my inexperienced bedmates took some time and instruction to master. Oriel either had an instinctive skill or the true understanding of my needs as he’d already claimed.

I wanted to despise him and his tricks. I wanted to abuse him as I had so many before. Perversely, I didn’t want to enjoy this! But I felt the serpent of climax stretch and yawn in the pit of my groin as if he’d been neglected for tens of moons not for mere hours as was the truth. Oriel’s palm cupped at my tightening balls, rolling them gently between his fingers, his mouth sinking right down on me until I nudged at the back of his throat and his lips nestled into the curls at the base of my shaft. I groaned, barely recognizing my voice.

I often used this as foreplay, and I had excellent control of my body. I could watch a companion suck me for a long time before I was ready for release. It stimulated me before the harsher reality of entering a body and thrusting to completion.

Tonight, I didn’t need foreplay. My control deserted me, and the stimulation was totally consuming. I must have pulled hairs from his head, the ferocity of my reaction so shocked me. I began to thrust my hips against him, shuddering, buffeting his kneeling form. I cried aloud as the climax swelled my cock, spewing seed into his young mouth. My senses whirled, and I experienced a sharp vividness of color and sound that I’d never known before. The muscles of my legs tensed then surrendered, almost buckling beneath me. It’s just sexual gratification. Reason clung to me by its fingernails, brushed away by the wave of pure, magnificent sensation. Last night you had three young men to do this very thing to you to amuse you in just this way.

I wasn’t amused in any way now. I was stunned. I was speechless. I may even have been scared. Though never a praying man, I begged that I didn’t let the sob inside me escape to a servant’s ears.

I barely cared.

It was so much more….

Oriel pulled away slowly, my softening cock sliding from his lips. A thread of my seed dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “You want it to be real,” he whispered, his words a little slurred. “You are so alone, so afraid. You want to be satisfied. For the first time.”

I sank back down on to my bed, my trousers creased and snagging at my hips, the muscles of my thighs shaking with tension, and my eyes stretched open with shock. My cock fell half-limp against my thigh, the damp flesh still warm and raw with sensation. I wanted more. Much more.

“Take off your trousers,” I said hoarsely. “Wash and shave yourself and then get into my bed.” He stumbled to his feet and stared at me, his hand already at the waist ties of the trousers. “Prepare yourself for me.” It was a mere whisper from my dry throat. My mouth ghosted other words, other desires. I ached to press my lips against his pale skin. I could barely focus on his face, my eyes were so misted with my astonishing need. “Now!”




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an Italian Affair, Shannon Pearce, Beau to Beau books

Intro:
Business was good at the firm where Ken worked. It was so good, in fact, that the company had opened a branch in Italy, and Ken had been assigned the job of mentoring the new manager of the Italian interests. Roberto was a good fit for the company, and Ken soon began to look forward to his weeklong trips to Italy. He and Roberto had a good time together, both escaping their somewhat dull lives of nothing but the same every day. When in Italy, Ken felt very exotic and wanted to do exotic things. One night during one of Ken’s weeklong business trips, Roberto confides in Ken that he misses the excitement of group sex that he had often been a very willing part of years ago. Ken listens intently to every arousing detail of Roberto’s past escapades, and admits that what Roberto is telling him is making him more than just a little horny.

Excerpt:
Ken met Roberto several years ago when he had first flown to Italy on a business trip. It had been his first time in Italy, and Roberto had just joined the firm and was in charge of the Italian interests. Ken had made several trips to Italy after that, mentoring Robert, and working closely with him.

Ken had fallen in love with the beautiful country of Italy, its cities with their beautiful architecture, and the Italian countryside was breathtaking. Roberto had shown Ken a little more of his beloved country with every trip that Ken had made. Roberto had taken Ken to all the magnificent Italian sites, the great, the good, and the seamy.

***

Ken and Roberto were both married, with two kids each. Ken had two girls and Roberto had two boys. “When you come to the U.S., bring your wife and kids,” Ken had said every time he had flown to Italy. “Bring the family here, Ken,” Roberto had offered, with his usual hospitality. They both promised that they would, and both knew that they would not really do it.

Weeklong business trips to Italy for Ken, and business weekends for Roberto, were their only escape from their somewhat stagnating lives. They both loved their families, but when the two men were together, it was almost as if they were young again, and unencumbered.

***

On this night, Roberto started to really open up to Ken, and as Ken drank more wine, he talked freely about sex to Roberto, which was unlike him. They both realized that they were looking for other opportunities to screw around. “You know, Roberto, I always think about doing exotic stuff when I’m here in this exotic country of yours,” Ken admitted. “Yeah, like what?” he asked, grinning. “You may be surprised, but I’ve thought a lot about group sex, threesomes, that kind of stuff,” Ken admitted. “No way, not my sweet little American friend,” Roberto teased. “You don’t have it in you.” Ken lightly touched Roberto’s hand. “You might be surprised.”

Roberto grinned at Ken again. “It’s fun, Ken, a threesome. I did it a couple of times years ago, in college, the days of experimentation, don’t you know.” “Yeah, how was it?” “Well, it was with my best buddy and a girl. You really have to trust the people you do those kinds of things with, or at least trust one of them.” Ken just looked at him, waiting and wanting to hear more. “It was the best sex I ever had,” Roberto said, looking off into the distance. Ken was getting horny now, just imagining it.

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Married until Monday, by Shannon Pearce, Beau to Beau books of Male Love

Intro:
Trips to the cabin were the best of times for Thom and Julius. They went as often as they could, when time away from their stressful careers would allow. Thom had loved Julius since college. Julius was the most accepting person Thom had ever known. He never once heard him pass judgment on anyone. Thom had never told Julius that he was gay, but thought that he had to have known. Thom had many gay friends, and a few lovers.

It isn’t until the two of them are well entrenched in their careers that Julius begins to have relationship problems. When his girlfriend leaves him, he turns to Thom, just as he has always done following his many breakups. Thom’s suggestion that they get away to their favorite cabin for the weekend is more than welcomed by Julius, but Thom is surprised by his friend’s latest revelation.

Excerpt:
Several years after their many wonderful years together as roommates, on the quite frequent occasions when they got together, these same types of questions about gay sex escalated after Julius had been emotionally torn apart by his girlfriend of several years. She had called it quits one night with no warning. Julius was devastated, and had called Thom right afterward. “What happened, buddy?” Thom didn’t know what to say. He had never been interested in girls the way that Julius was, sexually. Julius told him that she had met another man, but quickly changed the subject to ask more about gay sex. “What’s it like, that kind of intimacy, I mean?” “Hey Julius, why the increased curiosity about intimacy between males?” “Well, I have a confession, Thom. It kinda is what helped to cause the breakup with my girlfriend.” “Okay, what’s your confession?” “She caught me surfing explicit gay web sites.”

Thom didn’t know how to respond to this. It must have seemed like an hour had passed before Thom spoke again. “Are you still curious about gay sex, buddy, after all this time?” Thom tried to be as sensitive as he could be over the phone. “Would you like to experiment with someone you know you can trust?” Before Julius could answer, Thom went ahead and suggested that the two of them spend the weekend in the mountains. “How ‘bout it, Julius? It’s been awhile since we’ve gotten away to the cabin. Maybe a break is what both of us could use.” “Yeah, that’s always fun, just you and me. Thanks, Thom. That would be nice,” he whispered into the phone.

Thom’s heart was definitely not the only organ in his body to begin jumping with exhilaration at that moment. “I promise you that no one will ever know of our shared experience.” Thom wanted to assure him. He would do anything for Julius.

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Conflict of Interest by JM Snyder

Now Available!

Conflict of Interest
by J.M. Snyder

Buy your copy today!

BLURB:

On a whim, Alex signs up to volunteer with an outreach program at a local youth shelter. When Father Nate calls him and asks him to work with Jamie as a big brother, Alex envisions a little kid he'll pal around with. What he doesn't expect is Jamie Owens, an 18 year old boy with a bad attitude who's only two years younger than Alex himself.

Jamie's hot. Very hot, and nervy, and precocious, and damn sexy, to boot. Even if he is eighteen, Alex feels guilty lusting after the kid. Alex sees himself as a mentor to Jamie, someone to look up to, someone to prove being a gay man doesn't mean casual sex in crowded clubs. He tries to keep his distance, both physically and emotionally, but Alex is sending some very mixed signals, and Jamie is getting pretty frustrated. As their friendship grows, Jamie becomes a part of Alex's life in a way neither expects.

NOTE: This book was previously published by Torquere Press and is now available directly from the author. It is the same story, so if you bought it before, you don't need to buy it again!

EXCERPT:

When Alex pulled into the parking lot of a downtown deli, Jamie jumped out of the car before it came to a complete stop and stretched languidly like an animal just released from a cage. As he climbed out of the car, Alex noticed a few people nearby glaring at Jamie's torn shirt. It may have fit in back at the shelter, but here it made Jamie look like a punk. Opening the trunk, Alex pulled out a heavy flannel shirt his roommate had left in there. "Here," he said, holding the shirt out to Jamie. "Put this on."

Jamie frowned. "I don't want to."

"Jamie," Alex warned. In his mind he could already see the scene Jamie would make when they entered the deli, only to be turned away because of Jamie's raggedy tank top.

But Jamie shook his head. "It's too hot for that. I'm not wearing it." To prove his point, he crossed his arms and leaned against the car. "What's wrong with my shirt?"

"It's torn," Alex pointed out, as if Jamie didn't know. "You look like a bum."

"I like the way I look," Jamie glared at an older woman who edged by them on her way into the deli. "What's your problem, bitch?"

The woman turned away quickly and kept walking. "Jamie, stop it," Alex hissed. "You can't go in there wearing that shirt. They won't serve you."

"Well I'm not wearing that," he said, nodding at the flannel shirt in Alex's hand. "Let's just go to McDonald's or something, okay? A drive-thru somewhere, eat in the car." With a wink he added, "I'm a cheap date. I don't mind fast food."

Try to do something nice, Alex thought with a sigh, tossing the shirt back into the trunk. He dug through blankets and empty plastic grocery bags until he found an old T-shirt of his. The cotton was faded and worn but in one piece at least, and he held it out to Jamie. "How about this?"

After a long moment, Jamie took the shirt. "This yours?" he asked, holding it up. It was short sleeved and thin -- Alex waited to hear his excuse for not wanting to put it on.

"Yeah," Alex said as he watched Jamie study the shirt. "It's been in the trunk for a while but it's clean. Are you going to wear it or not?"

"I'll wear it," Jamie said.

Before Alex could say anything else he stripped off his tank top, pulling the torn fabric up over his head. Alex found himself staring at the muscles along Jamie's chest, the golden skin so heavily freckled, he looked perpetually tanned. Alex shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep from reaching out and touching the boy -- he could imagine what those hard nipples would feel like beneath his fingers, the way the thick gold chain that hung around Jamie's neck would look pooled into the hollow of his throat, the way the ridge of Jamie's collarbone would feel between his teeth. God ...

Then Jamie pulled on the T-shirt, hiding the freckled muscles from view, and Alex managed to look away. "It's kind of snug," Jamie said, flexing his arms. Alex heard the tiny sound of a seam rip, and Jamie laughed. "I like it."

"You would," Alex muttered. He pointed into the trunk and Jamie tossed his tank top inside before Alex slammed it shut. "You look much better."

"Do you think so?" Jamie asked.

When Alex nodded, Jamie unzipped his jeans. "Jamie!" Alex cried, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry," he said with a wink, stuffing the T-shirt into the waistband of his jeans. "I ain't taking it all off. Much as you'd like to see it, I'm sure."

"Jamie ..." Alex closed his eyes as Jamie's hand smoothed the shirt down flat over the bulge that poked through the open zipper, but not before catching a glimpse of light red hair that trailed into his briefs as if pointing the way. Why couldn't this be easy? "Jesus."

He heard Jamie take a step closer, and then he felt hot breath along his neck as Jamie moaned softly into his ear, the sound accompanied by the quiet hiss of the zipper. Alex could feel the press of metal against that budding erection as Jamie zipped up his jeans, and in his pockets his hands clenched into fists, nails eating into his palms because he wasn't going to touch this boy, he wasn't going to let him get under his skin. Too late, his mind whispered as Jamie sighed, and Alex could smell the sharp scent of his sweat when he drew in a shaky breath. "You can look now," Jamie breathed. "I'm decent."

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The Danny and Jack Chronicles

Trouble seems to follow Danny around. From computer fires to escaped arachnids he creates chaos wherever he goes. Danny wouldn’t mind so much, but none of it is ever his fault, well, hardly ever!

Jack does his best to keep his mischievous young lover in line in this comic tale of misadventures.


Excerpt:

9: The Post Office Job:

I tried to ignore the icy trickle of water down my neck and stoically get on with delivering Christmas cards and such like. One thing was for sure, today couldn’t possibly be any worse than yesterday…Holy Shit…I stood rooted to the spot as a huge demonic creature launched itself out of the driving rain and pinned me to the fence of number seventy two Acacia Avenue. Rising up on its hind legs it bayed into my terrified face, slavering venom and drool everywhere. I was in serious danger of losing control of my bowels when a woman’s voice rose above the howl of the wind.

“Just stand perfectly still, love. He won’t hurt you.”

I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. The dog, a Great Dane, was heavier than me by several tons and it had me just where it wanted me. It made strong thrusting motions against my thigh and I realised that not only was it the size of a donkey, it was hung like one too, and it was determined to have its evil way with my left leg. What felt like a policeman’s truncheon was rubbing frantically up and down my jeans. Any attempts to move on my part were met by bared fangs and menacing growls.

The woman tugged vainly at the rutting monster’s collar. “Don’t worry, love,” she puffed, “he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s just a bit frisky at the moment.”

A bit frisky! The back of my head beat a brisk tattoo against the fence as the hound shagged itself senseless against me. What the fuck did she feed it on-Viagra? At last with a low grunt it shot its load and dropped back onto all fours, even so it still stood virtually shoulder-to-shoulder with me. I was shaking like a leaf.

The woman apologised profusely and offered to sponge my jeans. I declined. The rain would wash it off soon enough. I thrust her mail into her hands and beat a hasty retreat before the sex-starved brute took a turn at my right leg.

Apart from an incident with an irate man, who held me personally responsible for the size of his gas bill, the rest of the morning passed uneventfully.

I was halfway through the second shift when it happened. I had just pushed a handful of damp letters through the letterbox of a harmless looking bungalow when something charged down the garden path and attached itself to my person. I frantically shook my leg. Having my thigh shafted by a savage Great Dane was one thing. Hell, I’d been so terrified I’d have bonked its leg if it had so requested. However, having my ankle shagged by a Yorkshire terrier was just not on. I tried to beat the hairy little bastard off with a bundle of letters, but it was crazed with lust for my lower right limb and refused to relinquish its hold. What is it about postal workers that send canines into carnal frenzies? Eyes glazed it humped and heaved, while I danced and hopped about the path like a hyperactive Morris dancer. Only instead of bells I had an overgrown, testosterone charged rat clamped to my talus.

With a last supreme effort I violently shook out my leg. The mutt must have been sated and had loosed its grip, because suddenly it left my ankle. I stared in horror as it sailed through the air, a bizarre and hairy missile. There was a musical tinkling of glass as it crashed through the window of the bungalow. For a moment I was paralysed with fear, staring aghast at the gaping hole in the window. Then I took to my heels and ran like the clappers, before witnesses appeared and demanded to know why I had booted a small defenceless animal through the window of its own abode.

I was trembling from head to foot. My mind’s eye was blighted with visions of an airborne dog, while my auditory nerves were tuned into the tinkling of broken glass. It was the stuff of nightmares. I’d have flashbacks for years to come.

I had no conscious memory of the journey home, only a sudden realisation that I was turning my key in the lock and stepping into the hall with my bag of undelivered mail. I didn’t care. Wild horses would not get me outside again. I made myself a double strength coffee with four sugars and sat down. The thick brown liquid slopped over the rim of the mug, as I tried to convey it to my mouth with quivering hands. I was a shambles, a total disaster as a postman. Worse, I was a dog killer. Even now the RSPCA would be hunting for the fiend who went round booting terriers through windows. A tear rolled down my cheek. No way I was going back out there, no way! I had gotten hopelessly lost, been harangued by members of the public, shagged by a Great Dane and rodgered by a Yorkshire terrier that I had subsequently slaughtered. I couldn’t take any more.

http://bookworld.editme.com/FabianBlackRomance

Acting Out, by B.K. Wright

Intro:
When Curt meets a man who wants him in his bed as well as in his life, Curt finds himself being led to mysterious places and involved with mysterious and often dangerous men. When Curt learns that this man is definitely not a man he can trust, but is a man who wants him out of the way, Curt is determined to find out why. The answers to this mystery may lie in a young man who knocks on the door of his trailer late one night, a young man who has been watching Curt as he makes his debut as lead actor in a major motion picture. When Curt tries to get close to this young man to find out why he has been watching him, he very quickly discovers that his own life may be in danger. He also begins to wonder if acting is more of a nightmare than a dream.



Excerpt:
Curt fell asleep early that night, but awoke to the sound of tapping on his door. He was up and almost in the shower before he realized it was only 2:00 a.m. and that this was a day he was not needed on the set. So who is tapping on my door, he wondered? Curt opened the door to find a young man of seventeen, maybe eighteen, his eyes wide with fear. “Can I help you?” asked Curt. “Um, I just wanted you to know that I like watching you. I come here every day,” the scared voice said. On any given day Curt would see ten to twenty people watching them rehearse. Some of the actors didn’t like the onlookers, but Curt found that it made him work harder knowing that his performance was being critiqued by the ultimate critics. “Thanks, kid,” Curt replied, but sensed the kid might be troubled. He seemed scared of something or someone. I’ve been researching my character too much, Curt thought. “So, what brings you here in the middle of the night?” “I, um, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and started off. “Hey there, wait,” Curt said, and stepped outside to stop the boy. “Come on in for awhile. You shouldn’t be out in the dark.”

The boy followed Curt inside and stood just inside the door. “Have a seat. Want a soda?” The boy said nothing, but Curt grabbed them both a soda and handed one to the boy. Curt sat beside him, still wondering what on earth he was doing out in the dark alone. “I’m Curt. What’s your name?” Looking down, the young man replied, “My name is Lucas, but I like to be called Luke.” “Well, Luke, welcome to Hollywood,” Curt said with a chuckle as he motioned around the inside of his trailer. They sat in silence for awhile. Luke was tired, and in fact he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “We have the next two days free, so I didn’t want you coming out here for no reason, Luke.” “Thanks. I’d better go.” “No, Luke, it’s okay. Why don’t you stay, okay? What were you starting to tell me at the door?” Luke looked down and spoke so softly that Curt barely heard. “It’s just that you are me. I mean, you are being me and I’m waiting to see what happens to you.”

***

Curt walked into the bar which was very busy, and ordered the drink he had needed for days, and then another. When he was halfway through his second drink, the bartender asked if he had been to the new steam room yet. “No, I haven’t,” Curt answered, a little confused. “Check it out, on the house,” he offered. “It really loosens you up,” he added. Curt was more than curious now. He finished his drink and headed to the steam room.

Curt walked into a room with a very inviting whirlpool with its shooting jets of water making the water bubble. The room was very well decorated and very clean, with a sign that read, “No clothing allowed.” Curt had no problem with that. The water was warm as Curt lowered himself until he was seated in front of one of the jets. The water felt good on his stiff muscles. The roar of the jets and the bubbling water blocked out any intrusive sounds, and were lulling Curt into a very relaxing state. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the side of the pool. In his dreamlike state, Curt did not hear the door open, nor did he hear the man walk in and join him naked in the pool.

***

Curt wondered how often Michael went to the baths, but didn’t really want to know. He liked Michael and wanted to think that Michael liked him too. “Well, we should probably head back. It will be dark soon.” Curt walked beside Michael back to the Village. Michael added, “It’s safe here, but you still need to be careful at night.” Curt just smiled. Even a beautiful place such as this couldn’t afford someone absolute immunity, he thought. “Would you like to see where I live, Curt? It’s the upper story over the eatery.” “I would, Michael, thanks.” I want to know all about you, Michael, he wanted to say, but did not. They left the beautiful park and walked back to Michael’s.

***

It was just after 9:00 p.m. when Curt arrived at the center and was rushed into the director’s office. “We met earlier, Curt. I’m Daniel, the director here at the center.” Curt shook his hand, and Daniel informed him that Luke had been kidnapped. “How could he be? The kids are watched here.” “Curt, it was by someone you know.” Curt could not imagine anyone he knew doing anything such as this. “Who?” “There is a man named Michael who has been working in the Davie Village. The owners of the eatery turned him in.” “He told me he owned the place,” Curt was almost shouting now. “He has lied to many business owners in the Village, Curt, and has misled many. He is a hard worker, and disguises his true motives very well. The owners of the eatery feel horrible about this.” Daniel sat beside Curt and tried to calm him down. “But he lives upstairs from the eatery, right?” “No, Curt, that was also a lie. He has offered a place to stay to more than one of our youths here. He gains their trust, and then tries to return them to their former groups demanding money from them. Sadly, when he tries to return the youths their groups no longer want them, and they once again are rejected. Michael has no need for them, and so will often drop them off somewhere on his way back here. We try to convince the youths to return to the center but as you can understand, many are too confused to feel they can trust anyone.” Curt was fuming. “What happens to them?” “We don’t know, Curt. We are desperately trying to improve our services, but can only do so much. There are so many.”

***

It was quiet tonight and in the stillness, the ringing of Curt’s cell phone sounded like a car alarm. They could see Luke begin to turn his head. Daniel ordered Curt to get down. They were slumped down in the front seat with their faces just inches from each other. Daniel was worried they would lose sight of Luke and Michael. “Does Luke know your ring tone?” “Yes, he does,” confessed Curt. “Stay down, Curt.”

Daniel sat up just enough to focus his lens again on Luke and Michael. He looked around. They were sitting on the ground. Daniel returned to Curt. “They are sitting on the ground. It seems that Luke may have hurt his ankle.” Curt felt even sicker. Then he turned to Daniel. “Luke’s a smart kid, Daniel. Maybe he faked an injury when he heard my phone.” “Thank you, Curt. This is just the break we needed.” Before sitting up, Daniel kissed Curt on the lips as they were slouched together.

Victory Fuck by J.M. Snyder

Now Available!

Victory Fuck
by J.M. Snyder

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BLURB:

A young speedskater lusts after an older, more experienced teammate. Problem is, his teammate doesn’t seem to notice him in the locker room or out on the ice … until after they win the finals.

Amid flashing lights and screaming fans, the two come together in one perfect moment to celebrate their victory. But when reporters snag his teammate’s attention away, the young skater returns to his hotel room alone, sure he’s been forgotten again.

Or has he?

EXCERPT:

He came to me a winner.

The roar of the crowd drowned out my thoughts as I stood on the ice with my teammates, adrenaline rushing through my veins, basking in victory. Their shouts sang through me like blood, like lust, validating the moment.

Amid all the flashing lights, his eyes were all I saw.

Out of nowhere he swept me into a strong embrace. There was only a second of shock -- my heart stopped in my chest, my breath caught in my throat, and despite the crowd, I heard one thought clearly in my mind. Finally.

He pulled me to him in a fierce, triumphant hug, burying his face in my hair. I thought I felt his lips brush my neck, but I might have been dreaming the sensation. Heaven knows I fell asleep often enough these past few months wishing for this very touch. No words of encouragement, nothing said between us, just that maybe-there kiss and his arms tight around me, his body flush against mine, and the crowd wild with approval.

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Secret Services, B.J. Scott, Beau to Beau books

Three erotically charged short stories

Intro:
Todd provides a service, or services rather, secret services, to men. Liam has wanted a night with Todd since he turned eighteen just two weeks ago, and if there is one thing that Todd can never get enough of, it is being the very first lover to the young men who are eager to be pleased. All Romance ebooks, 1Erotica ebooks, 1Romance ebooks.

Ray has fantasized about what it would be like to have sex with a man. Now that his wife is away for the weekend, he decides to cash in on a very special gift from his buddies for a night with Todd.

Luke has heard about Todd, but cannot imagine any man being better in bed than he is. Men and women have been more than satisfied with Luke. Todd loves a challenge, but more than that, Todd loves playing the master to the cocky young men who always become submissive to him, in one way or another.

He came with a Rose, B.K. Wright, Beau to Beau books

Intro:
Ethan has a wonderful life, filled with his two dogs, horses, and many other animals which have wandered onto his land over the years. He has the best friend that any man could have, a man who has become more than just a friend, if only in Ethan’s mind and in his dreams. When his friend asks him to attend a dinner with him one Saturday night, Ethan discovers much more about his good friend, who is also the veterinarian to his many animals, than he had already known. Dr. Holing has a secret which Ethan could not have imagined in even his wildest of dreams. Ethan’s Saturday night quickly becomes an adventure, an adventure which will change his life forever. At All Romance ebooks, 1Romance ebooks, Amazon.

Excerpt:
It was still dark outside when Ethan drove his trusty old pickup truck into the lot of the College of Veterinary Medicine Clinic on the north end of the beautiful campus. “Just a few more minutes, Princess, and you’ll be all better.” Ethan loved his Sheltie puppy. She and her brother, Hawker, were the loves of his life on the farm that he owned just a few miles north of the city. Ethan was a wheat farmer, and the land was to him what Tara was to Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind. It was his strength.

Dr. Bryce Holing met Ethan at the back door of the clinic. One of the best of the best veterinarians in the country, Dr. Holing knew Ethan well. He came out to Ethan’s farm whenever Ethan needed him, to tend to the larger animals that could not be brought to the city.

“How’s our little Princess?” “Not so good, Bryce. She swallowed something, but I don’t know what. I just hope it’s not something harmful.” Bryce knew how much Ethan genuinely loved his animals, especially his two Shelties, and he picked the sleepy dog up into his arms and carried her into the hospital. Ethan was right behind him, afraid for his precious Princess.

Dr. Holing laid the pretty dog on the table and looked her over. “She’ll be fine, right?” Bryce placed his hand on Ethan’s arm. “I’m sure she will be, Ethan,” he said, in his always comforting, always reassuring voice. He petted the sleepy dog and drew some blood. “We’ll get this back in just a few minutes, Ethan. Then we’ll know what to do.”

Bryce continued to pet Princess and talk to her as if she were a young child. He spoke this sweetly to all of his patients, and Ethan had never met a man with as much compassion as Dr. Holing. He watched as the kind doctor made his Princess feel better with the stroke of his hand on her soft fur.

Bryce’s assistant came back in with the lab results and handed them to the doctor. Bryce turned his back to Ethan as he studied the results. Ethan petted his sweet baby and waited for Bryce to turn back around. “Looks good, Ethan. I’m going to give her an injection which will kill the toxin. It will probably make her sleep most of the day. Just keep her safe and inside the house for the rest of the day, which I know that you will.” He was stroking Ethan’s arm as he spoke, and Ethan knew exactly why Dr. Holing’s patients loved him. Bryce’s touch was comforting to him, too, maybe a little too comforting. Bryce was not only nice, he was also very sexy, at least that was what Ethan thought.

***

He heard the deep comforting voice of Dr. Bryce Holing and felt his gorgeous body on his. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, Ethan. You know we’ve been tiptoeing around the truth for a long time now.” Ethan felt Bryce’s lips lightly brush his. “You want me, Ethan?” Ethan opened his mouth, eager to feel the lips that he had wanted from the first time he had met the kind doctor. Bryce kissed him gently, then firmly, like a lover. Ethan felt Bryce’s hands on his chest, speaking softly and seductively to him. “I want you so much, Ethan. I love you.” Ethan felt Bryce’s lips on his again before he could respond. His arms were around Bryce’s, eager to touch his warm body. The feel of Bryce’s hand on his hard cock was almost too much for Ethan to bear. He heard himself moan as Bryce reached his hand deep inside Ethan’s jeans, cupping his balls. He stroked Ethan’s pulsating cock, and Ethan could once again taste Bryce’s lips on his. “Mm,” he moaned. Bryce’s lips were just out of reach. Ethan tilted his chin upward. “Kiss me, Bryce,” he said.

Ethan could hear a phone ringing. “Let it ring, Bryce. Come back and make love to me.” The ringing continued, and Ethan could no longer feel Bryce’s body next to his. He probably went to answer it, he thought. Then he felt Bryce’s hand on his balls again, and Ethan moaned. Bryce’s hand was wrapped firmly around Ethan’s cock and was stroking him faster and faster. Ethan heard his own moans, and then felt his warm cum as Bryce brought him to their first climax together. “Oh, Bryce, why did we wait so long?”

***

He had thought about tonight all day, although he had tried not to. He showered again, and dressed in business casual attire. He took a suit jacket just in case he needed it. With the somewhat uncomfortable exchange he and Bryce had had yesterday, Ethan wasn’t sure what Bryce had in mind for after the dinner, if anything. Did he expect me to stay the night? Was he wanting me in his life in a more personal way? Was he wanting me in his bed? Ethan was driving himself crazy with his thoughts about Bryce, which no doubt existed only in his mind. He splashed on some cologne, and thought about taking an overnight bag with him, but then decided against it. Bryce knew that Ethan wouldn’t leave Hawker and Princess alone that long, and Bryce definitely wouldn’t want him to leave Princess alone so soon after her middle of the night trip to the hospital.

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Just You and I, by Shannon Pearce, Beau to Beau books of Male Love

Intro:
Another birthday together, their thirty-second, is bitter-sweet for Justin. This year marks yet another year gone by without Kyle knowing how much he has wanted him over the years, and how much he loves him. They spend so much time together that their friendship is much stronger than most married couples they know, the heterosexual married couples, that is. The two men have shared so much already, political careers, heated debates over the social climate of their time, that perhaps the way things are is enough for Kyle. But it is not enough for Justin. This year is the year, Justin decides, to discover the truth, whatever it may be. At 1Romance ebooks, All Romance ebooks.

Excerpt:
Justin and Kyle had just celebrated their thirty-second birthday together. Born in the same year, they had grown up during the same period of time, though in different cities. Good friends, or at least acquaintances, since their senior year in college, they were what they called “products of their environment, and products of their time.” They were born in the very late sixties, and so had missed the “sexual revolution” that their parents had experienced. In fact, it was during what their parents had termed their “free love” years that Justin and Kyle had been conceived.

Both born to very young parents, Justin and Kyle had formed their own social and political views which were very different from those of their parents. Their parents had been so very liberal minded that the views of Kyle and Justin had inadvertently been formed very similarly, in regard to their outlooks and opinions about politics and the social climate of their time. This was either because of, or perhaps in spite of, having grown up and “come of age” during the 1970s and 1980s. The two of them had witnessed the same events in the history of their country, the good, and the bad. They talked caringly about these things, almost sentimentally, now that they were grown men.

***

“Where you planning to work next year?” Justin had asked Kyle one night when they had finished yet another of their many heated political debates with each other. “Had any offers yet?” Kyle had surprised Justin with his response. “I’m thinking of going to graduate school, Jus.” Justin had wondered if Kyle had wanted to stay in school to be close to him for a few years longer, but would never ask. Justin certainly did not want to leave Kyle yet. Changing his mind about his future suddenly, at exactly that moment, Justin answered, “That sounds like a good idea, Kyle. Sure would give us a much better head start into the political arena. I think it’s a great career move.”

***

“Ready to go, bud?” Kyle asked, when Justin came to pick him up. “Take my stuff, would ya?” “Oh, please,” Justin said, but helped his friend anyway. “Where to?” “Camping, the great outdoors,” Justin answered every year, though they both knew they were not roughing it in the least.

Justin looked forward to these trips just as much as Kyle did, though neither knew how very much the other enjoyed these trips with their best friend. It was during these trips that Justin got the chance to drink Kyle in, but that was all he did. Year after year, Kyle was merely the object of Justin’s desire. This year’s trip was going to be different, however. They were getting older, and Justin was tired of living without Kyle. He wanted Kyle, and he was determined this year to somehow let his friend know exactly how much.

***

If Kyle had known that his friend and political opponent was staring, he didn't say anything or let it be known in any way that he was aware that Justin was watching him, and after awhile he drew one leg up, placing his foot on his knee.

His balls shifted in their loose sac, and rolled forward. “This had to be an invitation of some kind, didn’t it?” Justin wished.

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Eight: Gay Erotic Stories by JM Snyder

Now Available!

Eight: Gay Erotic Stories
a new paperback collection by J.M. Snyder

Read a free story from the collection or buy your copy today!

BLURB:

Eight gay erotic short stories of lust and love, these tales are sizzling off the press! Here you'll find an unlikely couple stealing a quick tryst between sets at a drag show, college boyfriends spending a long weekend together on campus, a young man with a forbidden crush on his best friend's father, flamboyant neighbors, horny lovers, college roommates, and a petulant submissive with a latex fetish.

Check out these stories and take a wild romp through the wicked pages of some of J.M. Snyder's hottest, best-selling gay erotic fiction, collected together into one print volume for the first time in Eight!

The short stories in this collection are available separately as e-books, but are only available in print in this single-author paperback collection. Contains the following stories:

• Money's Worth
• Before the Show
• My Best Friend's Dad
• On the Down Low
• Take It Outside
• Windows
• Fuck the Foreplay
• Mastering Stefan

WIN A COPY: Send an e-mail to contest@jmsnyder.net with Eight as the subject and I'll draw one winner on Saturday, May 15th, to win a copy of the book!

NOTE: This collection is only available in print, so winners must be willing to provide a physical mailing address where the book can be sent. The contest is open to anyone anywhere in the world, so enter today!

EXCERPT:
From the story, "Windows" 

Because the light's on next door, I can see boxes stacked up in the center of the room, headboards propped against the wall, a mattress tossed carelessly onto the floor beneath the window. Every now and then Rudy comes into view, stepping onto the mattress and then out of sight again as he starts to unpack. I wonder if this will be their bedroom. I wonder why I care.

It doesn't take me long to get the rest of the paint off the window and just as I'm about to move onto the next one, I hear Bradley's voice drift up from the other house. He's so loud. "Rudy, darling," he says, and then he laughs, that magical sound that's begun to bring a smile to my lips whenever I hear it. I've decided I quite like that laugh. "You know that's not where I want that dresser to go."

Rudy says something indistinct and then Bradley laughs again. Against my better judgment, I pull the sheer curtains in front of the window and peek out between them. Down in the room below, Bradley steps up onto the mattress, tanned legs and thick arms and the broad expanse of his back just begging to be touched. By me, I think as Rudy comes up to him, rubs his hands down the bunched muscles in Bradley's arms. I don't need to be watching this.

But I can't turn away. I remind myself of the other window, the dishes in my sink, my bed, things I can be doing, should be doing, but I can't seem to turn away from the window. Rudy leans close to Bradley, whispers something that makes him giggle, and then starts to knead his lover's arms, his shoulders, his neck. "I think he's kind of cute," Bradley says in reply.

My breath catches in my throat. They're not -- God, I wish I could hear whatever it is Rudy says that makes Bradley turn around and glance at my house, up at me. They see me, I think wildly, and without thinking I cross the room and hit the switch to cut off the overhead light. My heart beats like a drum in the darkness, hard enough to bruise my ribs, they saw me. Saw me watching, and Bradley said what? I think he's kind of cute. Jesus Christ.

Go to bed now, Thom, my mind whispers even as I start towards the window again. They've got names for guys like you, watching your neighbors through the curtains. You want this kid to call the cops on your perverted ass? Just go to bed and forget all about him and his tight skin and his infectious laugh.

Only I can't, and this time I stand to one side of the curtain, out of sight. I pull the edge of the fabric away from the window just enough so I can see, and I promise myself one more look, that's it, just to see if they're still talking about me and then I'll go. I swear --

Bradley stands at the window now, hands on the sill in front of him, legs spread wide, head thrown back. Behind him, Rudy has his jeans down to his knees, his boxers open, working his dick hard with one hand. The other is in the front of Bradley's shorts, squeezing, stroking, I can feel that hand, it tugs at my own erection, rolls my own balls in the palm, fondles me. My own hand strays below my belt, rubs against the thick swelling at my crotch. I'm not seeing this, I think. I'm not watching it. I'm not.

Rudy's dick stands up from a dark swirl of hair, angry and red. He pulls Bradley's shorts down in the back, exposing a tight ass. No tan lines, I think absently. How cute.

Suddenly Rudy disappears. "Come on, Rudy," Bradley moans, grabbing at the front of his shorts. "Please. I need it."

I ache at that voice, that plea. Another few seconds and I'll rush over there myself, take him in my arms and thrust into him, I'm hard enough already. But Rudy returns, his erection glistening from a lubricated condom, and he swats Bradley's hand away as it kneads the thick shaft that tents his shorts. "Rudy," Bradley starts, and that's as far as he gets before Rudy shoves into him, his hands finding their way into the front of Bradley's shorts again.

Bradley's eyes slip closed, his lips part, his cheeks go slack and what I wouldn't give to have him lean back into me like that, to moan my name instead of Rudy's, to cry out yes, please, harder, God YES for me. Even from this distance, I can hear the steady uh uh uh as he meets Rudy thrust for thrust, and each moan makes me tremble, each gasp makes me throb. "Rudy," he sighs, arching back against his lover, bucking into him, harder, faster, setting a furious rhythm that ends with Rudy collapsing against Bradley's back and the front of Bradley's shorts growing damp.

I sink to the floor, my knees to my chest, my pants viselike around my own raging erection. I can hear Bradley giggle, breathless, and then Rudy says something I can't quite catch. I'm sure it's about me, they know I'm here, they did that just for me.

Don't be silly, that voice in my mind tells me. They're lovers. First night in a new house, worked up a sweat all day, of course they were looking for release.

In the window. After they saw me watching them. Yeah, right.

Read a free story from the collection or buy your copy today!

On the Down Low by JM Snyder

Now Available!

On the Down Low
by J.M. Snyder

Buy your copy today!

BLURB:

Nick's the only white guy at his roommate Tyrone's hip hop party, but Tyrone's friend De'Andre is the center of attention. The moment Nick notices him, he gets sprung. De'Andre is big and black and hot damn, but he's sexy.

Nick feels out of his league -- he's young, he's white, he's gay, and he's desperately looking for a chance to spend some time alone with De'Andre. As much as he hates to admit it, that man is fine.

When Tyrone finally introduces them, De'Andre seems just as interested.

NOTE: This story appears in my print collection Eight.

WIN A COPY: Send an e-mail to contest@jmsnyder.net with On the Down Low as the subject and I'll draw one winner on Saturday, May 8th, to win a copy of the book!

EXCERPT:

I bullied my way back into the apartment, the main room, the hall, and almost got as far as the foyer when the bathroom door opened to block my path. Through the thick haze inside I saw my roommate sitting on the closed toilet seat. I ducked under the arm of whoever was exiting the bathroom and followed the stench of pot inside. "Tyrone."

De'Andre's deep voice answered. "There's our token white boy," he said, and I spun around to find him stretched out along the edge of the bathtub, leaning back against the wall with his long legs crossed as he toked on one of my buds. Raising the joint, he told me, "This chronic is phat. Where'd you get it?"

Now that I had found him, I didn't want to admit I'd been looking in the first place. Shoving my fists into my pockets, I shrugged and muttered, "I got my sources." I glared at my reflection in the mirror and wished Tyrone would go away.

With a laugh, De'Andre grabbed the back pocket of my jeans and pulled me to him. I felt like a fish, caught on a rod and reeled in. Before I could think to fight him, I plopped down into his lap. A slight groan escaped his lips when I sat on the hardness that bulged at his crotch, then his arms were around my waist, holding me in place. Each move I made earned another little moan. I fought against the urge to put my hands down on his jeans to reposition myself and cop a feel. Through the thick denim his dick swelled against my ass, hard from the drugs or the party or me, I wasn't sure which.

Remembering Tyrone, I tried to stand but De'Andre held me tight. "Lemme go," I muttered, but I didn't mean it and he didn't comply. My roommate snorted laughter and foamy beer bubbled out of his flat nose. I kicked at him across the bathroom but my sneaker missed his leg by a few scant inches. "Shut the fuck up, Tyrone. Where's the rest of my pot?"

Tyrone rolled his eyes and pointed at the smoke hovering above us before dissolving into giggles. "Up in smoke, my man. Up in smoke."

I kicked him again, this time leaning forward to connect with his shin. "Hey!" he shouted, slapping my foot away. A wounded look crept into his eyes. "Fuckwad. Who invited you to this party anyway?"

"I live here," I reminded him as De'Andre pulled me back. "How much --"

De'Andre's hand clamped over my mouth, his other arm coming up behind me to hug me against him. "Don't be haten, boys. Tyrone, get lost."

My roommate stopped in mid-giggle. "Wha?" he asked, frowning at us. "Man, that blunt's not done yet."

Keeping one hand over my mouth, De'Andre reached around me with the other and plucked the joint from his mouth, then chucked it in the sink. Tyrone scrambled to retrieve it before it went out. "Take it and go," De'Andre said. His hand smelled of pot and a deeper, darker scent, a musk all his own. When I licked out to taste him, the tip of my tongue tingled and he snapped at Tyrone, "Get the fuck outta here already, will you? I got business to attend to with Nicky."

"Nick," I corrected, my voice lost in the folds of his hand. Tyrone glared at me as he left, slamming the door shut behind him. For a long moment, De'Andre didn't move, didn't let me go. Finally I raised my hands to his and tried to pry his fingers away. He let me get beneath the first two fingers, then brusquely turned my face to his and pulled me down for a rough, hot kiss.

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A Haunted Love by JM Snyder

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A Haunted Love
by J.M. Snyder

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BLURB:
Nick works as a re-enactor at a Colonial America site. One foggy night he meets David Henry, just about the sexiest man in colonial garb Nick has ever seen. Because Nick’s missed the last bus into town, David invites him to stay the night with him at the colony’s inn.

Though there’s definitely a spark between them, David is gone when Nick wakes. When David’s claim of working as an apprentice at the glass shop doesn’t pan out, Nick begins to wonder about the guy he’s met and the ghost stories circulating around the colony, stories he always believed untrue …

This story originally appeared in Cupid’s Arrow published by Aspen Mountain Press in 2007. It has been newly edited and the republished version more in line with my vision for the story as I originally wrote it.

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EXCERPT:

I unlace my shirt further, pull it open a bit, and recline in the chair with my eyes closed. I hope he’s watching me. My fingers trail down my chest, my stomach, over my crotch, until my hand rests on my thigh. I ease open my eyes and look over at him.

He stares baldly at me, as I hoped he would, and there’s a naked hunger in his eyes I put there, me.

Damn but he’s pretty, have I mentioned that yet? By the firelight his skin glows, his hair darker than it looked outside, his eyes like sapphires, faceted and sparkling. He sinks into the other chair slowly, not taking his steady gaze from me. If he knew I saw him looking he’d blush because I can almost taste how bad he wants to touch me.

“You can,” I whisper.

“Can what?” His voice is deep and throaty as if he just woke up.

“Touch me,” I sigh. It’s more than a wish but not quite a command. “If you want.”

His hand stretches out before he can stop it, and his fingers brush across my knee, then pull back. Suddenly he clears his throat and stares into the fire as if we’ve done something wrong and he can’t bear to look at me any longer. “You can have the bed,” he says, his voice strained. “I’ll stretch out on the floor. It’s only one night.”

“You can sleep with me.” I keep my voice soft because I don’t want to scare him away. When his cheeks redden, I add, “I’m not talking about that. I don’t fuck guys I just met.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he stares at the fire and toys with the loose sleeve of his shirt. In the low light, his hair matches the color of the flames, and a muscle pulses in his jaw where he’s clenched his teeth to keep silent.

I nudge his foot with mine playfully. “David, it’s a full. That means two people fit on it. All we’ll do is sleep.”

“I don’t know.” He glances at me and there’s that muscle again, throbbing as he takes in my lips, my eyes, my curls. It’s as if he’s undressing me in his mind, and I hope he likes what he sees.

I tug at the laces on my breeches that tie up my crotch and sigh. “You said it yourself,” I point out. “It’s only one night.”

His blush deepens. “I’m not the sort of man who does something like that.”

I study him. I can’t be wrong—I’m never wrong, I can spot boys like him a mile away, boys who like other boys, boys like me. I can pick them out of a crowd. I see the interest shine in his eyes…he wants me. Even if he doesn’t know it yet, there’s something about me that will haunt him until we meet again.

I already know I’m going to get his number first thing in the morning, and I’m going to ask him out, maybe take him to the movies. I’ve waited a long time to meet someone like him and I’m not going to let him slip away so easily. “Something like what?”

He shrugs, embarrassed.

“You don’t like guys?” His lips twist as he tries not to smile. He still isn’t seeing things my way. I want him to see me. Reaching across the table between us, I touch his arm. “Come on, David. I see the way you look at me. You’re the sexiest boy I’ve seen in all the time I’ve been here. I’m thinking we need to hook up, you and me, and I know it’s not going to be tonight but I can wait. Shit, you look like the type who’s worth waiting for, you know?”

He smiles and runs his forefinger across my knuckles, his touch light and feathery. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

I laugh. “What do you mean?”

“You talk funny.”

I laugh again, surprised.

“No, not in a bad way…”

Now he’s snickering and his hand is on mine, he’s holding it to his arm as his fingers ease into my palm. I don’t think he knows he’s doing it.

“You use a lot of funny words, and you talk so fast. I don’t know half of what you mean but I like the way you say it.”

“I’m saying we can both sleep in the bed.” Now that he’s smiling, I can’t keep from grinning myself. “No fooling around, I promise. I like you, David. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t, and I’m hoping we can get to know each other better. You work at the glasshouse?”

He nods. That’s not far from where Jeremy works at the smithy. “Shit,” I drawl, closing my fingers around his. “I’ve been wanting to meet a boy like you for a long time now.”

“Why?” The way he looks up at me, not quite so shy anymore, suggests he knows exactly what I have in mind.

“Like you don’t know.”

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A Younger Man, by Shannon Pearce

Intro:
David had hoped one day to fall in love, and to fall in love forever. He had never thought that this “forever love” could be found in a younger man. David avoided younger men for the most part, except for maybe a casual sexual fling.

When David meets Chris, an obviously much younger man, he can’t take his eyes off of him, and certainly wouldn’t mind having him in his bed. David is flattered by the obvious infatuation that Chris has for him, but certainly doesn’t consider him a possible lifetime partner. Something happens one day that changes the way David looks at this younger man who has been watching him. This younger man couldn’t possibly be the one, could he? At All Romance ebooks, 1Romance ebooks, Amazon.

Excerpt:
David had always loved the simpler way of life. He didn’t need a lot of money to be happy. He did hope one day to find someone to love and share his life with. He had met a few guys over the years, but at age thirty-nine he wondered if he would actually find someone who fit the description of a lifetime companion. That changed one summer day.

It was the summer that David moved to the area, and bought his first house. It was large and spacious and even though other homes might have been nicer, it was all his and he was proud of it. It had a pool, a deck with a hot tub, and a full walk-out basement with wet bar.

A couple of weeks after he had settled in, some friends at work decided to throw him a house-warming party. Everyone showed up, mostly to take advantage of his pool, but David was more than happy to share. He was well liked and had made many friends at work and in the community. He was very generous. David had told his friends to bring anyone who wanted to come to see his house, and he decided to make a day of it with a barbecue, swimming, and plenty of booze.

***

David had just gone inside and was fixing himself a drink after standing over the grill for a little too long, but loving it, when he turned to look out at his friends having fun, and he first saw Chris. Chris had one of the most handsome faces, and prettiest faces, that David had ever seen, and it took him a moment to focus on this man who he was pretty sure he did not know.

David asked, “Can I pour you a drink?” “No, I just came in to use the bathroom,” he said, and David motioned to the bathroom around the corner. David took a big gulp of his drink as he watched the cute little butt round the corner.

“I’m Chris,” he said, when he came back out. “Is there anything I can do to help you? You’ve been working hard all day.”

David tried not to stare, but the young man was so damn cute. “No, I’m fine, but thanks.” David fought the urge to pat him on the head. He looked that young.

Chris just smiled. “Sure you don’t want a drink?” David asked again. “I’m sure,” he said.

***

David went back outside and over to the pool. He stood mesmerized by the sight of Chris while he swam laps. Chris got out of the pool at the far end and walked over to David. His body was still wet and glistening in the sun. The water clung to him, and David watched the drops run down his smooth skin. The young man’s nipples jutted up so cute that David wanted to suck them off of his body. His stomach muscles were tight, and David could see the line of black hair that started at his navel and ran downward.

Chris had worn his shorts into the pool and the effect was stunning! The thin material clung tightly to his skin and was so see-through that David could now see his jockstrap distinctly. The wet shorts hugged his packed crotch, and David could clearly see the outline of his cock and balls. David knew he was staring, but couldn’t stop.

“Hey, David. Love your pool.” Without thinking, David offered, “Well, you are welcome to swim laps anytime.” Did that sound corny to this young beauty? David wondered.

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Brass Knuckles, by B.K. Wright

Intro:
Rick Mason is on a mission, and his mission is the Mafia, the Mafioso, and specifically, the Giaconi Family, one of the most powerful Mafia families to have ever immigrated to the United States. Lucian, the elusive boss of the Giaconi Family, has escaped the authorities for decades. His manipulative means and ruthless ways have allowed him to control any and all he chooses, and the unfortunate souls who dare cross him end up at the bottom of the murky waters of the Muddy Mo; that is, the Mississippi River, and a few have become tasty treats for the hungry alligators that can always be found lurking not far from the city the Giaconi Family calls home; The Big Easy, New Orleans, Louisiana.

When the car of Lucian Giaconi’s son-in-law is pulled from the Mississippi River with no body inside, Rick is determined to find out exactly what happened to the man, and will do whatever it takes to stop the elusive crime boss, “Never Lose Lucian”, once and for all.

Through careful surveillance, Rick discovers that the “weak link” in the Giaconi Family is Lucian’s youngest son, Jeff, who has twice tried and twice failed to leave the family. Rick is determined to get as close to the presumed Underboss as he possibly can.

Rick soon learns that he and Jeff have something in common. They are both gay, and are drawn to each other like moths to a flame. Rick tries to ignore his attraction to Jeff, but wants him too much to not have him.

If Jeff ever discovers that Rick is a federal agent on a mission to bring his family to justice, Rick is certain to be the next tasty treat served to the hungry alligators of the Louisiana Bayou. At All Romance ebooks, 1Romance ebooks, Amazon.

Excerpt:“Shh, keep it down. Don’t make so much noise. You never know who might be out here watching us. You want somebody to hear us? Now, lower it down slowly. How much cement you get in there?” “Plenty.” “There, now push it on down with your foot.”

The two men stood at the edge of the Pauline Street Wharf and watched as the chest made of pure cedar drifted slowly downward into the Mississippi River. “How long you think it’ll take ‘til it’s out in the Gulf?” “About half a day, if it even gets that far.” The two men laughed as they watched the cedar chest disappear from their sight as it was swallowed up by the murky waters of the Mississippi River.

They looked around them. It was just after midnight. They headed back to the warehouse where the Giaconi Cedar Furniture was made. “Lucian will be pleased,” Johnny said. “Yes, yes he will be,” Sammy agreed. Sammy “the snake” Malini and Johnny “JoJo” Galioso had worked for Lucian Giaconi since they were in their teens. They had first worked for the old man, Lucian, Sr., and now they worked for his son, Lucian, Jr. They didn’t think that the son could possibly be more ruthless than the old man, but time had proven them wrong, very wrong.

***

From his rented room on the top floor of the old hotel, agent Rick Mason had watched the two men submerge the cedar chest. Unfortunately, he had not seen what was in it. Damn, he thought. If only I had access to the warehouse, or knew someone who did.

Rick Mason had been working for years to get close to the Giaconi family, and now he had located the city of its elusive boss. It was New Orleans, not Chicago, as he had once thought. Chicago had been a decoy set up very carefully by the owners of Giaconi Pizza. The two families were connected somehow, but Rick didn’t know exactly how, yet. He suspected that this Lucian Giaconi was the head of both; that they were really just one family, and not two, which was originally suspected among the Feds.

Rick Mason had studied the intricacies of organized crime for years, and he knew very well how their cover-ups worked. The idea was to keep as many layers between the head of the family, the boss, and the actual crimes committed as they possibly could. Let the lowest layer do the dirty work, and it kept the focus off of the top. That way, the family’s business was not disturbed, and could continue uninterrupted.

Rick had also watched Jeff as he walked to his car after leaving the warehouse. He had gotten a good look at him and had also gotten an image of him with his digital equipment especially made for night imaging. “Well, that’s a start,” he said aloud.

***

Rick took a cab back to his hotel. He hadn’t realized how hot he had gotten until he walked into the much less crowded air conditioned hotel. He opened the door of his room, and quickly locked it behind him. He looked around like he always did. You never knew who might be watching you, or who could be waiting for you. He turned on the shower and took off his clothes, locking his .22 Magnum in the drawer.

The shower felt good. Rick was not accustomed to the heat and humidity that held this city captive. He tilted his head up and let the water hit his face. He let the water push his hair back, and he closed his eyes as the water continued to hit his face. He was so relaxed now that he thought he could fall asleep standing up in the shower.

Suddenly and without warning, Rick felt his body being held and backed up to the back wall of the shower. His eyes flew open and he started to speak. “Wha…?” “Shh. Don’t talk. Just listen.”

***

Rick’s cell phone rang, and it was Bill. “Excuse me, Jeff. I need to take this. I’ll be in the garage for better reception.” Jeff nodded. Rick went into the garage, closing the door behind him. He sat on the step, and talked to his boss. “Okay, Rick. I went to the casino, and man, things are heating up. Everyone is suspect, and there are members of more than just a couple of the families here. If we can find Jeff before the family does, we can get everybody. I’m going back there, but I’ll be calling you on your cell phone from now on. Can’t take the chance that this place might be bugged.” “Sounds good, Bill. Keep in touch.”

Rick tucked his phone into his pocket and then turned to walk back inside, but was not prepared for what he saw. “Jeff.” “That’s right. You know who I am. Who the fuck are you?” “Jeff, it’s not what you think.” Jeff pushed Rick out of the way, and walked over to the car in the garage. “Thought there wasn’t room in here for your car. Well, this is a two car garage, and there is only one car in here. What gives?”

Rick followed Jeff as he walked to the back of the car. Jeff kicked the license plate that clearly read U.S. Government, making a dent in the middle of the metal. Fear and hatred filled Jeff as he stared at Rick. “You set me up, you bastard. You took advantage of me and my situation.” He lunged at Rick, but Rick moved. Jeff caught himself on the steps. “You bastard, Rick, if that is your real name. Well, I guess you win. Bet your boss had a good laugh when you told him you were fucking the man you were sent to bring back to him. Well, you really got me, didn’t you? You had me right where you wanted me. You had me in your bed.”

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D/s Fiction: Out of Tune

Christmas 1981: Psychiatrist Gordon Trapp returns from a trip abroad to discover that his young would be lover has conducted himself less than admirably in his absence. He decides that it's time to take Nathaniel Andrews firmly in hand. A year passes, it's December 1982 and Nat and Gordon's unique relationship is tested when a conflict of interest arises between them. Nat seems determined to flout Gordon's authority...but why? D/s Fiction...charming M/M stories with a discipline theme.

Extract:

Gordon looked up as Nat put in an appearance, standing shyly in the kitchen doorway. He stared, his groin registering lust. Never had that pale blue heavy cotton shirt looked as devastatingly sexy on him as it now looked on Nathaniel with the sleeves folded back and the hem poised just above his knees. God, he was a beautiful boy with his dark almost black hair and dusk blue eyes fringed with heavy lashes. He’d thought so from the moment they’d met on a gloomy hospital ward almost two years earlier. Back then it had been a detached observation, but not anymore. Nat had gradually got under his skin and into his heart.
“Smells good.” Nat ventured further into the brightly lit kitchen.
“Just canned soup and sandwiches. I’m not much of a culinary master…ouch!” He dropped the knife with a clatter as it sliced through the end of his thumb instead of the end of the tomato he’d been slicing when Nat walked into the kitchen. Blood spurted.
“Let me see.” Taking hold of Gordon’s left hand Nat inspected the damage. “Have you got any tape?”
"There's a first aid box in there," Gordon nodded towards a cupboard below the sink. He put the damaged thumb in his mouth to suck away the blood, feeling his cock harden as he watched Nat journey across the kitchen to get the box. It had been a while since he’d had a lover and his body was reminding him of the deficit.
Nat gently stuck the edges of the Elastoplast down. “That should hold it.”
“Thank you.” Gordon smiled and his arm, which seemed to have found its way around Nat’s waist, tightened. He drew him closer to his body feeling the intense rhythm of his own heart echoed by that of Nathaniel’s as it pounded in his chest. “You look barely legal dressed up in that shirt.” Gordon gently brushed a lock of hair away from Nat’s eyes.
“I am though,” whispered Nat huskily, tilting his head at an inviting angle.
Gordon was on the verge of accepting the invitation when a sudden angry hissing startled them both and they drew quickly apart.
“Dam!” Gordon made a lunge for the cooker, “the soup has boiled over.” He removed the pan from the ring and then turned his attentions back to Nat. “Sit down,” he ordered, pulling out a chair out for him. “You look a bit shaky.”
Nat sat down carefully at the table, still conscious of some tenderness in his hindquarters. He was also conscious of how ravenously hungry he was, waiting with barely concealed impatience as Gordon shared the vegetable soup between two bowls, finally setting one before him. He picked up his spoon and began to wolf it down. A few minutes later he was heaving chunks of carrot, potatoes and peas into the sink.
“When did you actually last eat something?” Gordon wiped Nat’s sweating face with a handful of damp paper kitchen towels.
Nat picked up a tone in Gordon’s voice that told of reawakened displeasure. He gave a cautious shrug.
“How long?” The displeasure became still more evident.
“Promise you won’t be cross with me again?”
"No, and if I have to repeat the question again I’ll be more than cross.”
Nat began shaking like the last leaf on a tree in an autumn gale. “I’ve been too miserable to eat much. I’ve missed you.” Tears began to slide rapidly down his pale cheeks. “I thought you were never coming home and then when I finally saw you yesterday I thought I was hallucinating.”
“How long, Nathaniel?” The voice was quiet, gentle, but held a note of authority that could not be ignored.
“Two maybe three days.”

copyright material Fabian Black 2010

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