Literotica Authors and Their Books (For Literotica Authors ONLY)

Three books at Amazon

I want to announce my three books at Amazon

Mrs. Cheng Pays The Debt: An Interracial Ménage à trois

https://www.amazon.com/Mrs-Cheng-Pa...8&qid=1479434844&sr=8-3&keywords=james+Elfers

When her husband accrues an a massive debt to a gangster, Anne Cheng pays the debt through "personal service" to the gangster's son and the son's best friend. The two week adventure alters all of their lives! Mrs. Cheng passes from fearful trepidation to joyful fulfillment in more ways than one!

This is my most popular series collected into novel form. It is easier to read than one chapter at a time method on Literotica.com Not a lot of new material but a cleaner, neater package.

Barbarian Bride

https://www.amazon.com/Barbarian-Br...8&qid=1479435088&sr=8-4&keywords=james+Elfers

Luz, an intelligent minor royal from he great walled city finds herself a prize to be fought over. During the annual Peace Fair, civilized men of the city and barbarians of the plains battle for brides. Stunned to be in barbarian hands, Luz rapidly discovers entirely new geographies, both physical and sensual.

Originally published as "Barbarian Bait" I greatly expanded this story to novella length taking Luz through more than a year of married life. If you want to know what happens next for Luz you NEED to read this story This novel is directly inspired by a Lit.com comment that "It would make a great novel!" Now it IS!.

Lastly, there is

There Is No Substitute for First Class Field Work

https://www.amazon.com/There-Substi...8&qid=1479436921&sr=8-7&keywords=james+Elfers

Amy and Mark, two mismatched graduate students explore the barbarian world of Spika Five. Before long, strong, fiercely independent Amy is forced to don the collar of submission and finds herself in the arms of a powerful barbarian. Mark goes native and enjoys sampling the local beauties as he and Amy join the caravan trek ending in a fertility right.

This appeared as "Barbian World" at lit. This is an expanded and editorially clean version of Amy and Mark's adventure.

I set the price low and so far, even without advertising I've made more royalties than I did for my most significant bit of academic non-fiction!

I would love to hear from folks who enjoyed these stories and a review or two at Amazon would not hurt either.
 
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Launched by BarbarianSpy on 26 November 2016, the fifteen-story GM anthology, Grab Bag 11, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt):


BLURB:

Eleventh in the series of eclectic gay male short story collections by habu, the fifteen stories of Grab Bag 11 offer a variety of gay male action in terms of theme, sexual interest and fetish, setting, and time period. Laid out in the order in which they were written rather than grouped by theme, these are stories composed during the spring and early summer of 2016.

Although mostly contemporary pieces this time, these stories take us from the early history of the United States (“Martin’s Hundred”) through vampire hunting grounds in the early twentieth century (“A Question of Restraint” published separately for Halloween 2016) to a mafia fishing expedition (“Business Cruise”) right up to the most recent summer Olympics (“Iran in USA”). In geographical coverage, although most are set in the United States, others take us to Spain (“Man Across the River”), Germany (“A Question of Restraint” and “The Horse Master”), and Brazil (“Iran in USA”). Some are romantic; more include habu’s penchant for writing hot, steamy, rough sex. Most explore the nature of the complex relationships between men who desire other men. All are written to entertain, inform, and arouse the reader of gay male stories.


TAGS:

age difference, anthology, barebacking, BDSM, beach sex, big cocks, bisexual males, bondage, China, cock sucking, condoms, Cyprus, docking, domination, double penetration, drugs, edging, fisting, frotting, gangbang, gay anal, gay clubs, gay fetish, gay kama sutra, gay travel agency, historical, homoerotic art, interracial, Japan, male masturbation, military, models, music, outdoor sex, piercings, pool parties, poppers, priests, rent-boys, romance, rough sex, sailors, short stories, Spain, sports, submissives, tattoos, threesomes, thugs, toys, transvestite, Turks, videos, voyeur, wet dreams


EXCERPT:

From “Man Across the River”

The man had the physique of a young god, I told myself, with a sigh, as I lowered the binoculars. I’d spent as much time as I could over the past several days out here on the terrace. Little work was being done on music composition. I’d polished what I’d drafted out the night before Phil left to death, but little new had risen. There was the folk song—well, two, after lying under Carlos, but not the production I’d hoped for.

I’d gone three days without sex after Phil left, which was no big deal, except that I’d been hard and wanted sex at least twice a day. Those were times when I’d caught glimpses of the Spanish footballer Xavier Vicario working in his vineyard across the river. He was out there almost constantly, and he liked to work stripped down to the waist. And at the end of his work day—a time I always tried to be out on the terrace and looking across the river—he’d use an open, outdoor shower by a door into his villa to sluice off his body.

After the first few days I saw this, I saw that he was stripping down entirely to do it. That’s when I dug out the binoculars. The man was hung—a thick, uncut sausage of a cock hanging down between his legs, seemingly meatier at the middle than at either end—and his body was absolutely magnificent. I found myself unzipping and working myself while he was showering.




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Launched by BarbarianSpy on 10 December 2016, the third in the Hardesty, D.C. Vice Homicide cop, mysteries, Retribution, by habu, a pen name of sr71plt.


BLURB:

Christmas Day isn’t being kind to D.C. Homicide Vice detective Hardesty. Called to a crime scene at the Georgetown University boathouse on the Potomac River, he is taken aback at seeing the face under the ice of a man he only hours earlier was partying with at an exclusive, full-service gay male brothel. Immediately thereafter identifying a body in a Mercedes in the boathouse’s parking lot as a rent-boy from the previous evening, who Hardesty has known (biblically) himself, the plot thickens as the Secret Service descends on the boathouse looking for someone else altogether. A very important and very secret personage, the owner of the Mercedes, is missing. It’s going to be a very busy Christmas week for Hardesty, not just in trying to solve a murder mystery against the opposition and possible complicity of the Russian mafia and the U.S. government itself, but also in keeping his own connection to the male brothel under wraps.


TAGS:

age difference, Christmas, crime mystery, double penetration, espionage, extreme gay fetish, gay anal, gay bondage, gay rough sex, gay vice cop, rent-boys, sounding, voyeur, Washington, D.C.


EXCERPT:

Hardesty’s eyes went to a cop who was walking quickly and with determination in their way from the boat launch area on the river.

“You the guys from Vice Homicide?” he was asking as he approached.

“Yo,” Hardesty asked, “And you are?”

“Thomas of the Fifth Precinct. Found something. You’re going to want to see this. Over by the river.”

“Where? What?” Hardesty asked as he followed the policeman over to the edge of the water. The river was iced up a good fifteen feet out. There were skid marks from a kayak that had been pushed out into the river—or Hardesty assumed it had been a kayak. There was a rack of them over against the wall of the boathouse and one of the slots was empty.

“So, someone’s gone into the river,” Glen said as he walked up beside Hardest and Patrolman Thomas.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point. Can you see him?”

“Him who . . . oh shit,” Hardesty said. Whitehall had joined in the “Oh, shit” part. They were looking down into the ice at the edge of the boat launch. A face was staring up at them from under the ice. It was a man. His eyes were bugging out and his mouth was open in a silent scream. There was a bullet hole between his eyes.

“Well, fuck,” Hardesty said, his voice disgusted.

“What the hell?” was Glen’s contribution. “Suppose it’s Curtis Whoever?”

“Afraid not? I know him,” Hardesty said. “He’s Russian. His name’s Victor. At least that’s the name I heard he goes by. I don’t know a last name. But he’s a bad ass.” What he didn’t want to say was that he’d seen the man a couple of hours ago—at Justine’s. He was one of Justine’s special clients. This was getting dicey. Glen knew about Justine’s, but he didn’t know everything there was to know about Justine’s. Hardesty’s chief, Crane, and the department certainly didn’t know about Justine’s—Hardesty hoped. Crane knew Hardesty could tap most of the male prostitutes it town—but not his relationship with their pimps and houses. How was he going to handle this, and . . . “I want to see the stiff in the car again,” he suddenly said, turning and moving back to the parking lot.




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The Pegasus Run

The third episode of the Space Princess adventures is now live!

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The galaxy is full of wonder and adventure, but it can get cold and lonely in the depths of space. That's why the gorgeous ladies of Space Princess Entertainment are on a mission of pleasure. No challenge is too big, no planet too distant and no party too wild! Let love rule among the stars!

Journeying to Pegasus VI to entertain the crowds at the Pegasus Run, the galaxy's greatest space race, should be a cakewalk for the girls of the S.S. Ecstasy. But Captain Hollander and her crew hadn't counted on their hated rivals, Galactic Queen Fantasia, trying to steal the contract out from under their noses. Hollander knows that Captain Mina Starks will do anything to degrade and humiliate her and the other Space Princesses, so this is going to be one hell of a dance-off!

But that turns out to be the least of Hollander's worries. Soon she is enmeshed in a huge conspiracy involving the Jek, the bestial leader of Pegasus VI, Duke Khaga of the evil Khandai empire and the upper echelons of Space Princess Entertainment itself. Suddenly, losing a dance-off doesn't seem so bad. Will the crew be able to use their bodies and their minds to survive or will they end up subjugated and enslaved?

Caution: The Space Princess series contains extreme sexual content and graphic depiction of mind control and otherwise dubious consent. Never fear! The crew of the S.S. Ecstasy find strength even in submission and always triumph over adversity.

To celebrate this release, the first episode of Space Princess -- The Fourth Rule -- has been permanently discounted. Be sure to check out the beginnings of the sexy interstellar saga!
 
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Launched by BarbarianSpy on 7 January 2016, a GM novella, Also Want to Thank, by habu, a pen name of sr71plt.


BLURB:

Rising heartthrob movie actor Dillon Drake is told that he would have to kiss a lot of frogs if he wanted to rise in the movie business in Hollywood, which he’s also told in no uncertain terms is a very gay town under the surface. Dillon plays the game and he does rise in the business, but the questions are where is the edge of what he can take and what would the fallout be of going over the edge? How big a splash does he have to make to escape the frogs and where and how will he make the break?


TAGS:

age difference, ambition, bisexual, blow job, car sex, casting couch sex, coming out, domination, drugs, gay anal, interracial, MFM, movies, pool party, revenge, rough gay sex, sugar daddies, threeway sex


EXCERPT:

“Now it’s time for the awarding of the Golden Globe for best supporting actor in a feature film.” Dillon perked up a bit when the MC rolled through his name while reading off the list of nominees.

“And the winner is, for Fire Down the Valley, Dillon Drake.”

The spotlight picked Dillon out at his table, he gave a sloppy grin, and Black and Marshall helped him rise. Black helped him all the way to the stairs up to the stage and then up onto the stage as well. The young movie star staggered through the last twenty feet of level stage on his own, made three grabs at the statuette before snagging it, and then swung around to take the microphone.

“Bet cha’all didn’t know I could act too,” he snorted into the mike. This was met with a smattering of nervous laughter.

“Well, I think this is great, just great. Thank you. Even if the studio couldn’t believe it could happen. But I want to thank the studio and all of those who screwed—excuse me—supported me on the way up. As always, my agent, all hands Walt Whalen, and then that happy couple who shared me—I mean shared their secrets of acting with me, Delores Mendez and Malcolm Strange. And let’s not forget the money men, Craig Townsend and Art Marshall, who bought my ass—I mean believed in me enough to make this movie and others—like Paradise Ranch” . . . he paused here for the applause, as stars from the movie, Delores Mendez and Malcolm Strange, half rose from their chairs to acknowledge the attention . . . “vehicles for me to show that I was more than just a tight ass—although, for them, that’s what I mostly was.”

“And let’s not forget our dear departed Fletcher Falwell,” he said, pointing the empty chair at his table, with the spotlight dutifully beaming there, “who truly was responsible for Fire Down the Valley and who cast me in it after a nice long tryout on the casting couch.” This was met with a few gasps from the audience—not because actors routinely did it for parts but because he referred to it publicly—and the “go away” music started in the background. “This is for you, Fletcher,” Dillon said, raising his statuette high. “Here’s hoping that the fancy tomb built at Forest Lawn with the money we made from Fire has a double slab.”

The music rose in volume, almost, but not quite, drowning out whatever Dillon Drake had to say next. “And, last but not least, to that black bull, Scott Black, who has reduced me to—I mean made me—what I am today.” At a signal from Art Marshall, Black was on stage, “aiding” Dillon to return to his seat.




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Launched by BarbarianSpy on 15 January 2017, a paperback compilation of gay male historical novellas on the American Civil War and the expansion west, Dirk's America Unifies Collection, by Dirk Hessian, a pen name of sr71plt:


BLURB:

Dirk Hessian specializes in gay male historical action/adventure novellas and novels. His works are set in a wide variety of time periods and event settings from the ancient times of the mystical past through medieval and American history up to modern times worldwide, and as far afield from his home setting of the United States as France, Scotland, the Black Sea, and China. His shorter works, previously available only in e-book form, are now being brought together in print collections. This is the third of that series and the second of Dirk’s “America” series, and includes works covering the American Civil War and expansion west, Blue and Gray, Confederate Gold, Fire Down the Valley, and Ridden West. The first collection in the “America” series, Dirk’s America’s Founding Collection, included works covering the period of the American Revolution Colonel’s Treasure, To the Hessian Hills, and Soldier, Spy.

Blue and Gray is a personalized Romance of two men on different sides of the war between the States conflict. Confederate Gold fictionalizes one of the enduring mysteries coming out of the American Civil War: What happened to the Confederate government treasury? Fire Down the Valley, which deals with the painful and rarely acknowledged range wars between cattlemen and sheep men and farmers in the West, is the first of two novellas in this collection on America’s expansion west toward the Pacific Ocean. Ridden West is a story of one young man following the Horace Greeley “Go West, young man” dream.


https://www.amazon.com/dp/192519094...&sr=1-1&keywords=dirk+hessian+america+unifies



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Launched by BarbarianSpy on 21 January 2017, a paperback compilation of Washington, D.C., vice cop Hardesty gay male novellas, Hardesty X3, by habu, a pen name of sr71plt.

BLURB:

Hardesty is an unusual Homicide Vice detective in Washington, D.C. Although he is a straight arrow in obtaining justice for rent-boys who have been done to death no matter how powerful the perpetrator in the hedonist and power-wielding capitol city is, he is himself addicted to the very rough sex vice he is charged with stopping. He both protects and uses the young male prostitutes of the city. This is a collection of three works, Gotta Keep Trying, Snitches, and Retribution, previously published separately, in chronological order, of Hardesty’s world of solving male-on-male crime while satisfying his own lusts for young, blond, submissive men.


TAGS:

blackmail, crime mystery, dancers, detective, domination, double penetration, espionage, extreme gay fetish, gay anal, gay BDSM, gay bondage, gay male, hunks, informants, interracial, male prostitution, mind control, older-younger, politics, rent-boys, rough sex, sounding, tattoos, vice cops, video, voyeur, Washington, D.C.


EXCERPT:

From Gotta Keep Trying

The dancer on the pole looked too young. That’s why Hardesty zeroed in on him. Hardesty was looking for them young. The others were working the crowd. Leering back, throwing dirty words into the crowd in response to what was being called out to them and making suggestive motions with their bodies on the poles. But this one, the small, lithe guy, not more than five foot five, Hardesty estimated, with the blond Mohawk and the fluttering eyelashes, was dancing the pole to the slow music in a shyer, more introspective way. That didn’t mean that he didn’t have guys zeroing in on him like Hardesty was—but for different reasons, Hardesty told himself.
It’s just that he was an enigma.

What was he doing here at all, Hardesty wondered. He kept going back to the guy looking too young, too innocent—wholesome under an attempt to play the part—but sexy at the same time. Really, really sexy. His body was boyishly perfect. The Mohawk wasn’t extreme—he didn’t look punk. He was a dyed blond. The hair was auburn at the roots, but it looked like he’d let it go that way on purpose, like the hair was just frosted. He had hardware—a small ring in his eyebrow and one in his navel—and a tattoo of a gecko or some lizard or something disappearing down under the waistband of the gold G-string he was wearing. All you could see of the tattoo were a tail and some hind legs in green. He wasn’t heavily muscled, but there wasn’t any fat on him either. His stomach was flat and his hips thin, but his buttocks flared out into perfect bubbles.
The face was boyish too, almost pretty. His eyes were hazel or blue, Hardesty couldn’t really tell which in this light. But he didn’t care that much about the eyes—more that he looked young, too young, and that he was dancing within himself. Very sexy, but as if he was too innocent to be in here. Too vulnerable.

Patrons were coming close to the stage and stuffing fives and tens and even a few twenties in the waistbands of the G-strings of the other two dancers, and the dancers, in turn, were blowing kisses and making lurid movements to fit the mood. But none of that was happening with this one dancer. There was some sort of barrier around him that the boisterous men couldn’t penetrate. He had more than his share of admirers, but they were worshipping him from a distance, most of them sitting there, lost in watching him, no doubt spinning in their minds what they’d like to do with the small, lithe, vulnerable body. Occasionally they’d come up and put their bills on the surface of the stage below where he was dancing. So he was getting his share of the tips. They just weren’t touching him. It was like they were afraid he was too young to touch, not legal. They fully appreciated what he was doing, but they sensed a danger in treating him like the other two dancers.

This is what caught Hardesty’s attention more than anything else. He took out his wallet and extracted a fifty-dollar bill and laid it down on the table in front of him. He made sure the young dancer saw him do it, which he did, and then Hardesty pushed the bill a nudge, just a nudge, toward the dancer on the tabletop and gave the dancer a meaningful look.
Putting a ten in a dancer’s G-string waistband was showing one form of appreciation in a bar like this. Showing a fifty on top of the table told the dancer something entirely different. And all of the dancers here were on call for those fifties. Hardesty knew it was part of the contract.


https://www.amazon.com/dp/192556807...d=1485022470&sr=1-1&keywords=habu+hardesty+x3


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Sex & Sorcery 3!

I'm not the only Literotica author with a story in the latest Sex & Sorcery anthology from Uruk Press, but I figure I might as well get an announcement up. Sex & Sorcery 3 is here!

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Forget sword and sorcery, this is Sex & Sorcery! Nine sensational stories featuring over 80,000 words of brand new erotic epic fantasy!

"The Last Mage" by Dragon Cobolt - In the aftermath of an apocalpytic magical war, a wandering scavenger finds hope - and more - with the last surviving wizard.

"All-Mother" by Mak Long - Ancient beyond memory, the shrine of a forgotten goddess weaves together the fates of three women, who might be the salvation of their people.

"A Man Needs A Whore, So..." by Max Keith - Drinn and Cashel are on a vital mission for the Princess Raxillene, the exiled queen-in-waiting, and hundreds of lives hang in the balance. But first they need to make a quick visit to a brothel...

"The Ballard Of Little Bird" by Cyrano Johnson - Among the Faithful, those born Fae are called “Iteni”: the outcasts. For orphaned beauty Cailin this means a life of prostitution under the thumb of a sinister slumlord; a life that, with the aid of her companion bird-spirit Bana, she will risk everything to escape.

"Two Daggers" by Jaap Boekestein - A soldier and a witch cross a dozen worlds to free a backwards planet from a fearsome monster. But which of their weapons will prevail?

"Ice And Fire" by Ben Truman - A haughty female knight and a mischievous demoness set aside their differences to ecape from a monster-filled dungeon.

"The Paledrake's Promise" by Nethan Ravenwood - Tael has strong feelings for his reptilian companion Janess and doesn't believe the rumors that she sleeps around. But when his marriage proposal goes awry, he'll have to come to terms with just how unfettered her sex life really is.

"The Manse Of Magister Revaine" by Jamie MacFrey - Having quelled an insurrection, the fearsome Magister Revaine is throwing a party to celebrate. Disguised as a courtesan for the party-goers entertainment, Vivean will have no problem getting close enough to kill the vicious dictator and take revenge for her home. The only problem: no one has ever seen the Magister’s face.

"Awakening" by Alana Melos - A young wizard faces her final test to awaken her powers and unlock her spiritual and sexual potential.
 
Launched on 5 February 2017 by BarbarianSpy, a bisexual/MMF historical novella, The Aviators, by habu, a pen name of sr71plt.

BLURB:

Alex and Pete arguably had the least survivable jobs in World War II. They were American P-47 fighter-bomber aviators, based in England and flying dangerous bombing missions over the continent. Knowing the likelihood they wouldn’t survive, they led a hedonist bisexual sex life when on the ground, aided by men and women who wanted to make what life they had left pleasurable and who themselves wanted to sacrifice in the war effort. It helped that Alex and Pete were both hunks and studs. They had each survived over a hundred missions when the ceiling of expected mission survival was ninety. They, like other pilots, ascribed this to the rituals they went through before flying. Alex and Pete’s rituals extended to sex, including with each other. Alex, the submissive, had grown to see their relationship in terms of love, not just ritual. When Pete fell in love with a young viscount, though, pre-mission ritual went out the window. Would the two aviators survive this collapse in their rituals?


TAGS:

historical, WWII, bisexual, multiple partners, gay love, gay romance, aviators, casual sex, denial, wartime fear, drama, rituals, superstition


EXCERPT:

They told him they put him in the conservatory on sunny days, as the doctors had said he needed the sunshine. Autumn had arrived and it was too cold for him to sit, immobile, on the terrace. Immobile was Alex’s only option these days—at least for a while. A broken arm and leg and being blind—it was hoped only temporarily—meant he wasn’t going anywhere on his own. He’d been lucky, they said. Inexplicably, they said, he’d been thrown from the plane and landed on strong, leaf-cushioned tree branches. If he’d remained with Lucky Linda, he would have been burned to a crisp. They’d said it was inexplicable, but Alex knew it was because he’d been sloppy about strapping himself in the plane on takeoff. He’d said nothing about that.

He’d said nothing about the sloppiness and the lack of following ritual, because he knew that had a role in what had happened. They—his aviator compatriots at the aerodrome and even the Taylors here—had, in turn, not responded to his questions about what had happened to Pete. Their nonresponse was all the response he needed.

Angela Taylor was giving him a sponge bath on a wrought-iron chaise in the glassed-in conservatory. He was stripped down and embarrassed at all the areas she was touching in giving him the bath—this in spite of being in her bed every night. It just wasn’t the same—what happened in a glass room in the day and what happened in a bedroom in the dark of the night.
The bright flash when Pete’s plane exploded had blinded Alex. It had fried his retinas, they’d said. They also said that should be a temporary issue—that they’d rejuvenate themselves and when his arm and leg were mended, he’d be able to return to the air. They’d said it like Alex wanted to return to the war—to raining death down from the skies over Nazi-held territory on the continent. And he supposed he did. He couldn’t think of anything else he had to live for. Pete was dead. And he hadn’t fully realized what Pete meant to him until Pete wasn’t there anymore.

He’d had to convalesce somewhere, and the Taylors had stepped up to take over his care. The doctors and the squadron commander, Major Flint, had thought they were bricks for doing that—that they, as displaced Americans, not able to travel over dangerous waters back to the States, were doing what they could for the war effort here in taking a wounded American airman in to care for. Although he was, certainly, grateful for the care, Alex knew the Taylors had taken him in for the use of his cock.

https://www.amazon.com/Aviators-hab...=1486333617&sr=8-1&keywords=habu+the+aviators




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launched by BarbarianSpy on 18 February 2017, an anthology of GM stories featuring priest sex partners, Priest Play, by habu, a pen name of sr71plt.


BLURB:

The subject of priests or ministers as sex partners with other men is one of the more taboo subjects in the writing of erotica. Habu has tackled this theme in gay male writing before, though, so naturally, as a publisher, we urged him to gather some of the stories in a subject-specific anthology, which has resulted in Priest Play. We gleaned nearly a dozen previously published stories that included priests at sex play from habu’s various anthologies, and, in addition to these, he wrote five new, never-before-published stories to make up a fifteen-story anthology in which the clergy is given dispensation to indulge itself in man sex.

The anthology is split in two sections—stories with historical settings and contemporary stories. Included are works in which a priest is only included among the men engaged in sex, like “24 Exeter Place” and the “Debatables”—and do so without the slightest remorse—and stories that focus on the perplexity of being a priest and still desiring and needing sex with other men, such as the concluding stories “Senegal Surrender,” “Fitting In,” and “Banishment.”

As with all of his anthologies, with Priest Play, habu takes an unusual theme and provides stories for his audience that are varied in setting, inventive in plot, human in characterization, and hot in male-on-male sex. If you are looking for a fix for your fetish to have a priest in your bed, this is the anthology for you.


TAGS:

age difference, art, bareback, beach, cassock, college, desertion, domination, double penetration, ethnic, extortion, fetish, interracial, gang bang, gay anal, gay romance, historical, male prostitutes, monastery, privilege, priest, relationships, reunion, royalty, secrets, seduction, Spanish inquisition, submission, subterfuge, taboo, voyeur


EXCERPT:

From “Carnival at Viareggio”

“You? You live here? I took you for a fellow tourist,” Hugo said. “Your accent. I thought—”

“That I was an American, right?”

“Yes, I confess I did think that.”

“I am, as a matter of fact. But a displaced one. I am Martin Biddle, and I have an antique store here on the Piazza Puccini, not far from the Grand Hotel.” He briefly looked away from Eric swimming in the sea to shake Hugo’s hand and then looked back. “My family thought it safer for their reputation for me to live abroad,” he added.

Hugo didn’t pursue this point, but he did register it in his mind. He turned his head and took another look at the young man. He was quite handsome. Trim, but with good musculature. And obviously sophisticated and refined—and well to do, as he was expensively dressed, if overdressed for the seaside. And perhaps knowing now that he lived in Viareggio explained why he was fully dressed. It was unusually warm for the beginning of March in Tuscany, but that was all relative. It was warm enough for bathing wear for the likes of Hugo and Dr. Mueller and the English nobleman at this time of year—and even for the sixty-year-old, gaunt French priest, who was, to use a pun, sticking to his habit—but it likely would still be too cold for the beach for a local inhabitant.

Eric came out of the water but remained on the hard sand at the water’s edge. He was, indeed, a beautiful young man. Short, but trim with a boyish body that, nonetheless, had good torso definition and strong looking arms and legs, as he would have to have to have been swimming as strongly and expertly as he had been. He was Germanic, light blond, with striking blue eyes, and a dazzling smile when he wasn’t looking shy and withdrawn into himself—or aloof to the scrutiny he obviously knew he was being given from the line of umbrellas.

A sigh went up from the cluster of men sitting around the Von Stobens as Eric unbuttoned the straps on the shoulder of his form-fitting one-piece swim suit and let the top of the suit drop to reveal his smooth, both boyish and well-muscled torso. Seemingly entirely blind to the multiple sets of eyes capturing and mentally caressing his form from the line of umbrellas, he reached down and readjusted his genitals inside his swim suit—to the intake of breath by more than one man under the umbrellas—the priest’s sigh was audible—and started doing stretch exercises again to step down from the vigorous swim in the sea—and then a few mild calisthenics.



https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06WD7D5R...d=1487473132&sr=1-1&keywords=habu+priest+play



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Wounded Pride New release BLMorticia and Remmy Duchene



Blurb: Renford Kline is straight… right? He got over his experimentation in college and moved on. Then how does he explain his blush-inducing fantasies about Brian Daystar? Fantasies he’s having when he should be focused on his career move from attorney to professor. When Brian comes to New York, Renford knows he’s in trouble. Everything about Brian attracts him—from his tight body to his beautiful, dark hair—but Renford is straight… right?

Brian Daystar needs a break. He’s been working nonstop to turn his Montana ranch into a safe haven for at-risk youth—so much so that he can’t even bring himself to care when he finds out his partner, country star Corey, is cheating on him. Their relationship has been over for a long time, but it might take his feelings for Renford to make Brian accept it.

Both men have decisions to make. Renford must come to terms with who he truly is, and Brian is going to have to decide if he will shun his happiness or embrace it.

DSP site - https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/wounded-pride-by-blmorticia-and-remmy-duchene-8156-b

Amazon - http://mybook.to/WoundedPride

iBooks - https://itunes.apple.com/mt/book/wounded-pride/id1195468475?mt=11

B&N - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wounded-pride-remmy-duchene/1125564848?ean=2940157180669

KOBO - https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wounded-pride

***SEXY EXCERPT***

Brian gawked at Renford’s hand on his and couldn’t hold back the whimper in his throat. He gripped the meat, driving his fingers into the gooey substance. When he started trying to shape it, it didn’t come out as perfect as Renford’s. “Ack. That is one strange-ass meatball. More like a blob.”

Laughter rippled from Renford’s body. “Man, you suck at this.”

“At this, yeah, but other things I’m a lot better at. Since you’re the expert, you should show me.” Brian waggled his eyebrows.

“Expert?” Renford rolled another and placed it in the row he’d been forming. “I think you need more wine. Maybe that’ll help your, um, ball-making skills.”

“Help or hinder, who knows?” Brian snickered and shrugged.

“Only one way to find out.” Renford grabbed the bottle and filled their glasses again. “Take a sip and try again.”

Brian didn’t bother wiping his hands. He took the glass and drank the whole offering in one gulp. “Ah, that’s really good.” He plunked his hands back inside the bowl and gathered some more ground beef. He shaped it carefully and it came out a little better. “How’s that?”

“Here,” Renford said, gripping Brian’s hips with his meat-covered hands. He twisted Brian’s hip slightly, then pulled in close behind Brian. Resting his chin against Brian’s right shoulder, he picked up some of the meat and placed it in Brian’s palm. “You have to be gentle with it,” Renford told him. “Roll it around. Don’t press down too hard.”

Feeling Renford’s hard body behind him, Brian’s breath caught in his chest. He rolled the meat around, being as careful as he could. He desperately wanted to lean back into Renford and rub his backside against Renford’s crotch. That would be hot. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand not touching him after that. “Is that good?”

“I think you need more practice.” Renford whispered, breathing against the side of Brian’s neck. He pressed closer. “Try again.”

Brian gasped and slowly moved his buttocks against Renford’s crotch. Though they were fully clothed, Brian was pretty sure he could come from doing this. The temptation was too strong not to acknowledge it, to embrace it. He couldn’t give a crap about the meatballs; he only wanted Renford’s body on top of his.

“You’re squishing them.” Renford pressed his arousal against Brian’s ass even as his mouth made a trail up Brian’s neck to the back of it, before pulling Brian’s ear between his teeth. “We’ll never get dinner made if you can’t get them right.”

Hearing that, Brian swallowed hard, fighting the erection from growing in his jeans. “Right now, dinner is the furthest thing from my mind. I know we gotta eat, but I’m hungry for something else.” Brian stopped suddenly. His own subconscious told him to slow down. “I’m thinking you want something else too.”

Renford laughed softly. “Reading my mind now, Brian?”

“More like reading the way your body is responding to mine.” In a bold move, Brian turned around to face Renford. The heat in his beautiful brown eyes told Brian all he wanted to know. He traced the side of Renford’s face until he reached his lips. “Dinner could be a snack. I believe we have enough balls for the spaghetti too.”

“You think?” Renford brushed his lips across Brian’s and inhaled. “Kiss me.”

Brian didn’t need to be told more than once. He wrapped his arms around Renford’s shoulders and yanked him against his own body. When Renford’s weight crashed into his, he promptly crushed their lips together. He didn’t do soft at all, because at the moment, he had no damn control. Brian had desired Renford’s mouth on top of his ever since they met months ago in Great Falls, and now he was getting his opportunity to fulfill that dream. Gasping for air, he pulled back a little, then pushed into Renford again, dragging his fingers across his collar.

He smiled and pressed Brian into the cupboard, and kissed him again. This time he allowed his hips to connect with Brian’s, his meat-covered hands circling Brian’s body, caressing him through his clothes even as their tongues swirled about each other.

“I think we should wash up a little….”

“I think we should. Raw meat isn’t really sexy.” Though the touches made his stomach flutter, Brian returned the embrace and nipped at Renford’s bottom lip. “I’ll go and get cleaned up, then.” Brian pecked him one more time and walked away. He wasn’t so sure what would happen next since they decided to skip dinner, but he was eager to find out.
 
Summerland Blues, the latest Space Princess adventure, is live!

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The Summerland should be a paradise - a resort planet designed by one of history's greatest world-architects, Kan “Sender” Matsuhara. No one has heard from "the Master" in decades and he was assumed dead, but now the crew of the S.S Ecstasy will be the first people to visit his masterpiece.

Time has not been kind to Matsuhara, though; and if he is hiding secrets, then even darker things lurk in the idyllic landscape of the Summerland. A world that at first seems to make dreams come true and sexual fantasies a reality soon turns into a nightmare for crew and passengers alike. But this isn't the first time Captain Titania Hollander has been in a sticky situation, and you can bet your bottom dollar the Space Princess girls are going to come out fighting.

Caution: The Space Princess series contains extreme sexual content and graphic depiction of mind control and otherwise dubious consent. Never fear! The crew of the S.S. Ecstasy find strength even in submission and always triumph over adversity.
 
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Launched by BarbarianSpy on 27 February 2017, a GM anthology, Spanish Lovers, by Sabb.


BLURB:

Spanish men do it better and Galician men do it best.

This anthology from Sabb contains three short stories set in Galicia, in the heart of the northern part of the Iberian peninsula, an area known as Green Spain. The stories are about Galician men who meet and become the lovers of foreigners. Foreigners who fall in love not only with Galician men but also with the land they come from.


EXCERPT:


From “The Power of Words”:

The casual Spanish physicality confused him, and he didn’t want to cause an embarrassing situation as he had recently with another acquaintance, taking casual hugs as meaning more and at their last farewell, probably the last time he’d see him, moving his mouth to the other man’s as he slipped his arms about him. Feeling him freeze up and pull back, confused. Him apologizing. He shook off the memory.

Antonio was a young man he liked talking to. They had met several times to practice Spanish and English together, Antonio improving his English while he worked to improve his Spanish. He was lonely for sex but also for a physical relationship and knew he was probably seeing more in things, and his difficulty in understanding Spanish was a definite problem. He was still finding his feet in this new place.

He sighed and got up from the table. I think skipping lunch before the beach is a sign that I should stop daydreaming about Antonio, he said to himself and paid for the coffees and tapas they had enjoyed. The walk to his car was past historic buildings that always left a sense of wonder in him—wonder that they had survived so well and wonder that such grand and well-designed structures were there, in such a . . . backwater, was the best way to put it. Monforte de Lemos may have been a major medieval trading centre, but the medieval days were far behind it. And here in Monforte most of the great buildings were built later, the creations of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and, he assumed, had been largely financed by the gold of the Americas. This, he always thought, was the legacy of that wealth. The magnificent churches and convents.

In the late nineteenth century Monforte had been fortunate to be one of the first Galician cities to get the railway and had flourished again, briefly. Now it was a regional centre that had been contracting for some years while remaining a place where architecture and history were valued.


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N'awlins Exotica Book Six See No Evil Rawiya, Michael Mandrake



BLURB: Christmas comes sooner than expected in the Big Easy.

With the serial killer on the loose, the Crescent City has become a place of nightmares. Inflicting terror on New Orleans has been his first order of business, and now, due to a recent faux pas, he’s on the run from district nineteen police.

In the midst of this is trans dancer Naomi Beneviere. Naomi is concerned about her safety after three other dancers wound up dead at the hands of the serial killer. To make matters worse, she dreams of their murders and possible details about the suspect.

Crime Scene Investigator Waylon Mooney is the top CSI on the case which has been plaguing the city. Waylon is meticulous and a hopeless romantic, but his social skills are a little off. After a series of dates with Naomi and many sleepless nights, Waylon is ready to take the next step in their relationship, but the killer on the loose may hamper their progress.

Will Waylon be able to assist in finding the killer? And will Naomi Beneviere finally have the chance at a true relationship with Waylon?

See No Evil concludes the N’awlins Exotica series. All books must be read in order.

If interested in the rest of the series, the books are at Amazon - http://mybook.to/NawlinsExotica

Links for See No Evil

Amazon – http://mybook.to/SeeNoEvil

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/708793

Payhip – https://payhip.com/b/lJQp

* * * *

Sexy Excerpt

Once the bellhop placed their bags on the floor, Waylon tipped him a ten and escorted him to the door. He closed it behind him and locked it, then walked back inside, taking in the sight of the gorgeous woman before him.

“Waylon … I…”

“I know it’s breathtaking. Not as much as you are.” Waylon loosened his tie, then removed his jacket from his shoulders. Gawking at Naomi dressed in a purple suit dress above the knee with matching stilettos turned Waylon on in every way possible. He’d been hard as nails from the moment he picked her up and now, he had every intention of finally getting what he’d been waiting for.

“There’s more to see of this place. Right now, I’m more excited about seeing you naked.”

Naomi smiled wickedly. “And I feel the same about you.” She fiddled with the three buttons at her waist, then pulled the dress open, revealing her lacy bra and matching garter over panties, clipped to her thigh high stockings. Her chocolate skin gleamed under the sunlight, looking like treats ready to be unwrapped. Although Waylon had an inkling to do it himself, another part of him wanted to watch her do a routine. He’d never gone to N’awlins Exotica to watch her dance the whole time they’d dated because of work.

“You gonna strip for me?” Waylon managed through the pain in his groin. The question came out more breathy than he wanted. Still, he couldn’t help it.

Naomi nodded. “Sure. If that’s what will get it going.” She tossed the dress in the chair on the side then methodically slid her bra straps from her shoulders.

“Holy hell, woman!” Waylon walked closer as he removed his necktie and shirt, dropping it on the floor. He took a seat on the large mattress and toed off his loafers, without taking his eyes off her.

“You say the sweetest things, Mr. Mooney.” Naomi fiddled with the hooks in front until they gave way, revealing her perfect breasts with perky nipples resembling chocolate kisses. She dropped the brassiere and stepped out of her heels. Once she had them off, she unclipped the garter from her stockings and pushed them down her legs. The garter went too until they both pooled around her ankles.
Waylon swallowed hard, completely frozen in place. He watched her strip so painfully slow and he felt himself getting harder by the minute with each move.

This was torture.

The sweetest kind.

Having Naomi naked in bed with him would be the ultimate prize.

“Naomi …” Waylon breathed as he absentmindedly toyed with the buttons on his pants. When he finished undoing them, he gasped because of the severe pressure on his groin begged to be relieved.
Naomi only smiled and stood up straight, watching him.

When she did, he noticed her cock tenting in her lacy panties. Seeing the imprint, Waylon swiped his tongue over his lips and pushed his pants down to his ankles. With his eyes still on her, he kicked them off then yanked his socks from his feet.

“Baby, I …”

“I know, me too.” Naomi walked closer to him and knelt on the bed with her legs on either side of his body. She pushed him back until he hit the bed and laid her body on top of his. She ran her hands through Waylon’s hair, crushing her lips on top, exploring his mouth with her tongue.

“Mmph.” Waylon gasped, wrapping his arms around Naomi’s waist. He held her buttocks in his hands, softly caressing them. He reciprocated the lip lock with more fervor and passion, enough to make himself spurt in his boxers. Wanting more, Waylon rolled over on top of her without breaking their kiss. He ran his hand over one of her breasts, feeling her firm nubs under his fingers. Waylon gently pinched one, then lazily circled it with the tip of his tongue.

“Waylon. Oh damn. Please.”

Though Waylon was hungry for Naomi, he ignored her cries. He continued to tease one nipple, then moved to the other repeating the same action. After he finished, Waylon pinned her arms over her head and ground his nearly bare body against hers. He lined his cock up with Naomi’s, rubbing it against her.

“Damn …” Waylon managed through his grit teeth, bracing himself against coming too early. He sucked in a breath, then leaned back in, kissing Naomi passionately until they both struggled for air.

“You know I want you, right?” Waylon whispered between soft kisses and tongue tangles, still humping her.

Naomi only nodded, seemingly taken by what Waylon was doing to her. She inched up and caught his bottom lip in between her teeth, gnawing, then sucking it into her mouth.

“Mmph.” Waylon groaned into it and let go of her arms. While continuing to kiss her, Waylon collapsed on top of her, still moving his frame against hers. Naomi’s hot skin mingled with his, causing quite the disruption down below and Waylon couldn’t stop the amount of pre-cum weeping from his cock.
Naomi broke away from their liplock, breathing heavily. “Waylon, oh God!”

Knowing exactly what Naomi wanted, Waylon smiled, kissing her lips again. “I get it baby, but I wanted to make love to you.” Waylon caressed her face softly, grimacing while he ran his fingers over her cheeks then lips. “I had to show you how much I want you.”
 
Launched by BarbarianSpy on 8 March 2017, a GM novella, Gift from the Sea, by habu, a pen name of sr71plt.

BLURB:

A young American drifter-adventurer, Sebastian, arrives from the sea in Valletta, Malta, willing to sell his body or have casual sex with men for his keep and drifts from a male brothel to the hillside villa of ailing British actor, Clifford Gainsworth, who has gathered an artists’ colony of gay men, all with interest in and access to the accommodating young American ginger twink. Sebastian’s primary interest is in sailing the seas on classic sailing yachts, though. His willingness to just drift on the sea and give his body to men who will take him sailing leads him to further adventures in a sail to Italy and then to Turkey. The journey for this gift to men from the sea, though, eventually leads right back to Malta.


TAGS:

Tags: gay romance, artists, Malta, lure of the sea, male prostitute, enhancement drugs, cruising parties, group sex, double penetration, voyeur, sailing yachts, Turkey, casual gay sex.


EXCERPT:

The sailboat was standing in quite close to the shore—close enough that the two blond hunks on board should have been aware that they were under observation. Evidently they didn’t care. This wasn’t Scandinavia, though. Malta was more traditional, and they were taking a risk. It gave Sebastian an extra little thrill that they were taking the risk.

Sebastian lowered his elbows onto the top of the rock wall of the terrace of Clifford Gainsworth’s hillside villa by the north side of the Valetta fortress to steady his gaze through the binoculars down into the cove. Both men were naked, sunning themselves on their backs on the roof of the sailboat pilot house. Sebastian recognized the sailing yacht as a Little Harbor 75. It was a sleek, two-masted motor yacht that was worth nearly a million dollars. Sebastian knew his sailboats. Not only was he fascinated with them, but he also had bummed his way from the States across the Atlantic and down the French coast into the Mediterranean aboard sailboats before, seemingly just rising up from the sea, he landed up here at the old British film actor’s hidey hole on Malta.

Gainsworth had such a hidey hole outside Britain because he took in young men just like Sebastian and corrupted them in ways that society didn’t particularly approve of, if they hadn’t already come that way. Sebastian, in contrast to his look of youthful innocence, had come to him well used in that way.

The two young men—older than Sebastian’s twenty, but not by a full decade—also looked like they were worth a million dollars . . . each. They were built. Both were Nordic, and he now could also attest that they were horse hung—something that Sebastian sorely missed. . . .

“What do you see out there?” The Italian painter, Mateos, asked, looking up from his canvas. He was painting the curve in the line of the coastline north from the fortress walls, catching an abstract, but still faithful, view of the other villas hanging on the hillside as this older section of the city cascaded down to the Mediterranean. Mateos too was a hunk—or clearly had been in earlier life. He was something beyond fifty now, but it was evident he’d been quite something in his day. He still dressed—or, rather, undressed—for the part. Of course he knew he had been attention getting. He paraded around the villa, having taken up residence there without apparent permission or care, in his salt and pepper curly-haired hirsute almost altogether. He said he was putting together an exhibit on Malta, and no doubt when he was done, carefree freeloader that he was, he would evaporate as quietly as he had materialized two weeks earlier. When Sebastian and Gainsworth discussed that possibility, the old actor assured Sebastian they would count the silverware after Mateos had departed.

In the meantime there was no evidence that Clifford was thinking of booting him out of the free ride in the villa. The two were fast friends and partners in scheming.
Having gotten Sebastian to notice him and turn his head, Mateos repeated, “What do you see out there?”

“Oh, nothing much,” responded the ginger-haired twink of proportions Mateos had said were pleasing enough that he’d painted Sebastian in various positions—and mostly nude—stretched out on the top of the terrace wall. “Just looking out to the sea.” He saw no reason to admit to Mateos what had caught his attention. Sebastian doubted that Mateos would appreciate the competition the Nordic hunks would represent and there existed a “failure to completely satisfy” tension between the aging artist and the young man.


https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XHH34N...085647&sr=1-1&keywords=habu+gift+from+the+sea



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Day Of The Bacchae

The newest Space Princess adventure is now live! Day Of The Bacchae is here!

NB: The first four Space Princess adventures made prior appearances, in earlier forms, right here on Literotica. Day Of The Bacchae is their first truly exclusive outing, never seen before on any site!

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The S.S. Ecstasy is hosting a peace summit between the United Space Alliance and their old enemies, the Yalkans. When Lieutenant Nuku Vitani flies into a sexual frenzy at a formal dinner, everyone assumes it is her Ustani heritage and the catgirl has unexpectedly gone into heat. But something more sinister is afoot: Captain Titania Hollander's crew are being deliberately infected.

Soon the Space Princess crewgirls, who have so often found strength through submission, are transformed into femdom furies! Will Chief Flynn and the men of the S.S. Ecstasy make it through alive and intact? Can Captain Hollander and her girls overcome their nymphomania to unravel a conspiracy that threatens to trigger another war?

Caution: The Space Princess series contains extreme sexual content and graphic depiction of mind control and otherwise dubious consent. Never fear! The crew of the S.S. Ecstasy always triumph over adversity.
 


A short erotic story about tentacle sex ;)

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XT51DL6

Description:
She is missing, trapped deep underground in a cave, and there is no one coming to help her. There is no escape, no food or water, and the situation looks grim. All she can do is try to prepare for the inevitable end.
But what she doesn't know is that she’s not alone in that small cavern, and soon the other resident will show itself. It won’t let her go, and it won’t let her perish, and all it seems to want is every bit of pleasure her body can provide.
What starts as an encounter filled with terror and despair will soon turn out to be so much more…
 
Launched by BarbarianSpy on 24 March 2017, a GM anthology of fifteen stories, Grab Bag 12, by habu, a pen name of sr71plt:


BLURB:

Twelfth in the series of eclectic gay male short story collections by habu, the fifteen stories of <i>Grab Bag 12</i> offer a variety of gay male stories in terms of theme, sexual interest and fetish, setting, and time period. Laid out in the order in which they were written rather than grouped by theme, these are stories composed during the fall of 2016.

Thematically, as is always the case with habu’s broad range of experiences, the stories in this anthology are “all over the place” in theme, from lust, greed, extreme need, and rough, BDSM sex to physical danger, espionage, paranormal events, mystery, racial discrimination, humor, porn stars, and tantric sex. The stories were all written in the heat of a U.S. presidential election year, so naturally there are stories here about shady and grasping politicians (“The Capitol Limited” and “Political Biography”).

The constants in habu’s hodge-podge of story writing are to provide variety, surprise, and scintillating gay male arousal. We trust that this twelfth anthology in the series will do just that for its readers.


TAGS:

age difference, anger, anthology, anticipation, Apartheid, archaeology, athletes, barebacking, BDSM, beach sex, beefcake, big cocks, biography, bizarre, black bulls, body guards, bondage, breaking up, casual gay sex, cheating, clubbing, cock sucking, college student, condoms, cross dressing, cruising, danger, dildo play, discrimination, docking, domination, double penetration, drugs, early frontier, edging, espionage, ethnic, fetish, first time, fisting, frotting, gangbang, gay anal, gay clubs, gay fetish, grief, hairy, hallucinations, high roller, historical, hunks, hunting, interracial, loyalty, male masturbation, male models, massage, mature, memory, music, mystery, outdoor sex, piercings, politics, porn films, prostitution, pursuit, race cars, rent-boys, real estate sales, role playing, romance, rough sex, sailors, satyriasis, secrets, seduction, sex photos, sex toy, short stories, size difference, spies, sports celebrities, starting over, submissives, surprise, surrogate partner sex, tantric sex, tattoos, temptation, threesomes, toys, trains, truck sex, videos, voyeur, wet dreams, whipping, widower, wineries

EXCERPT:

From “Oversexed”

I took to walking the beach in the morning and the afternoon and at twilight. In season, there would be eye candy to ogle and to flirt with and signal to. I knew all about identifying prospective tops and flirting and signaling. And, as a male model, I had no trouble being successful with that. But it was early October. The beach eye candy was long gone. At the most there were joggers, serious muscle builders, pounding up and down the surf line, taking advantage of the hard-packed sand that the surf was still saturating.

I walked farther up the sand, giving the joggers their space, but staying within ogling distance of them.

It was late in the afternoon, within an hour of twilight. The beach seemed deserted, as did the houses—mostly ’50s-style cottages, like mine, with the occasional more recent McMansion pushing in—lining the beach. I had never felt as alone—as jittery sexually—and was about to go inside, frustrated by the aloneness and contemplating going out to try to find a gay bar that hadn’t closed for the season, while recognizing I wouldn’t find one.
I saw him jogging up the beach from a great distance, moving quickly, legs pumping in his baggy athletic shorts, his torso covered with a loose hoodie. He was my age or a bit younger, obviously a bodybuilder, a serious muscle man. As he came closer I could see that he probably was a boxer too, his face showing the scars of combat. His arms were pumping and he was concentrating on his run. At first I thought he hadn’t seen me at all—that he was completely absorbed in himself and his workout. But as he came closer, coming at me, we made eye contact and he smiled. I smiled back, and nodded. He continued on up the beach.

He was behind me now. I turned several times to watch him run, my cock hard from the need of someone being inside me and with him being more than satisfactory in my fantasies of being pumped. One of the times I looked around, I found that he had too. He knew I was here. He was interested in me. But he was behind me, still running, probably running out of my life.

But then I heard him coming up behind me, puffing but not straining, just setting a rhythm of breathing as he ran. Passing me, he turned and ran backward a couple of paces, smiling at me, his hand going to his basket, giving me both a signal and a question. I smiled back, my own hand instinctively going to my basket, signaling my own interest.

There, up ahead, as he continued to run, I saw him pull off his hoodie, showing a muscular, hairy chest, and stuffed the hoodie in the back waistband of his shorts. I pulled my own sweatshirt over my head, so that, as he ran back to me, he could see my model’s body, my own trim but well-defined blond musculature. I pulled my shorts down so that he could see the curves at the top of my legs and below my hard belly, teasing him with what lay just a few inches below my low-rise waistband.

He took control, just as I wanted him to, as he reached me, taking a last look up and down the beach and then pulling my body into his, taking my mouth with his, stuffing his hand down my belly, under my waistband, and assuring himself that I was hard for him.



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Introducing R. Richard (Just in case anyone wondered.)

Whi’ Boy starts out living in an abandoned factory building in South Central Los Angeles.
He roams the alley ways or streets of the South Central, he then roams the highways that lead to Tia Juana and other places, to earn money. He carries a .357 magnum and a Bowie knife. However, the most dangerous weapon that he uses is his brain. To track Whi’ Boy, just follow the corpses.
Some have accused me of writing an autobiography. It’s a work of fiction, particularly the items where the statute of limitations hasn’t run out.
Whi Boy careens from an uneasy relationship with the LAPD, to preding on drug dealers, to partnering with drug dealers, against other drug dealers, to operating as a hit man, to consulting with a major importer of China white.
It’s a wild ride, with peeks into the underworld.

(I never wrote any of the story inside an automobile.)

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/713418
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XT2HZTG

(If you do read the story, I would appreciate feedback.)
 
Released on 1 April 2017 by BarbarianSpy, a GM Romance novella, Shore Leave, by habu, a pen name of sr71plt:


BLURB:

Alex Holden, a forty-one-year-old bodybuilder and gym owner, and Terry Duncan, a twenty-seven-year-old musical theater dancer, have been a committed, cohabiting couple in San Diego for eight years. They still consider themselves a committed couple and have no wish to change their arrangement or upset their partner. But, although they go through the routines of servicing each other, the spark of what once had been a bonfire relationship now seems to ignite between them only when the U.S. naval fleet is in for shore leave. Neither of them speak of the correlation between those two conditions, but each holds a secret on what it means to them for the fleet to be in for shore leave.


TAGS:

gay romance, age difference, commitment, deception, domination, double penetration, ethnic, gang bang, gay anal, gay bathhouse, gay cruising, gym sex, interracial, midlife crisis, motel sex, Navy, rent-boy, rough sex, San Diego


EXCERPT:

“Your turn in the shower,” Terry sang out, as he came out of the bathroom, patting at his toned little body with a towel. “Breakfast in twenty minutes.”

At the breakfast table in front of a full-length window overlooking San Diego Harbor, it was Terry’s turn to scan the LGBT Weekly, although no coffee for him. He was drinking orange juice and spooning wheat germ somethingorother from a bowl. Terry was a vegan and Alex was a carnivore. Terry did the cooking, though, and Alex was snarfing up three fired eggs and four link sausages.

“The fleet’s in,” Alex said to Terry’s newspaper.

“Is it?” Terry answered from behind his paper. “Yeah, I think I read something about that in last week’s paper.”

“Destroyer Squadron 15, I think,” Alex said.

“Is it?”

“You can see them lined up out there beyond Coronado. Tenders are already out there to bring sailors in for shore leave.”

“City will be busy,” Terry answered.

“You remember that I go up to LA for a meeting today. I’ll be back tomorrow, maybe late.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I’m taking the Corvette.”

“We get better mileage on the Rav 4,” Terry said, lowering his paper to give Alex a pointed look. The red Corvette convertible was a bit of a bone of contention between the two of them. Terry had made the mistake of saying that Alex wanted them to get it just because he was feeling old. The topic of getting old didn’t go over well with Alex these days—especially when Terry combined that with the remark that Alex seemed to be slowing down on the sex. The more practical and economical of the two, Terry, had balked a bit about having a maintenance-demanding sports car in downtown San Diego. They both were busy and barely went out of town. It seemed like Alex went to LA whenever the fleet was in, though. Terry couldn’t say much about expense, though. He didn’t make much at the theater. Alex was the sugar daddy here. Once reason they’d lasted for eight years probably was because Terry recognized that and was the economical one.

“The Corvette needs to open up its jets. It needs the highway workout.”

“Whatever,” Terry answered. “Since you’re gone overnight, I may just stay at the theater tonight. We’re putting in the lights for Guys and Dolls and we’re short on time on that. They need my help and it’s got to be finished by tomorrow night.”

“Whatever,” Alex said. He’d finished his breakfast. “I’m late. Gotta go.”

“Leave your dishes. I’ll take care of them,” Terry said, adding, like always, under his breath. But he didn’t feel in a bitchy mood, so he didn’t say it, as he sometimes did. Alex treated him like a wife of eight years. But Alex had given him the cock today, and Terry was keyed up in anticipation of a special day anyway. And it was Friday. And the fleet was in.


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