Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Tiny Tale Tuesday: Stoned

Cyrus passed me bong and the lighter. Red rimmed his hazel eyes, and bright pink lips spread over too-perfect teeth. He just looked at me and laughed. "I'm here with you."

"Absolutely." Everyone else had left a half an hour ago. I was going to, but that went out the window real quick. I locked my lips to the mouthpiece, held the lighter to the bowl, and sucked up on the smoke, filling the chamber. When I pulled up the bowl, all the smoke flowed up and into my lungs. It tasted of dry grass and old paper.

When I passed everything back to Cyrus, he put out the cherry and set the bong up on the coffee table. "I'm glad you stayed."

I nodded, but couldn't hold the smoke in my lungs anymore, let it flow over my lips as I spoke. "I'm having a good time." I'd already smoked more than enough t feel the effects. My shirt felt so heavy on my skin. Just wearing it made me tingle all over. Pants and boxers too, although that tingling could have been from Cyrus just as easily.

He leaned back, showing off the tufts of pale brown under his arms, stretching his skin taut over his ribcage. "It's been a long time since just the two of us smoked a bowl together."

"Not since high school, yeah."

"Graduation day. We had a couple hours before everyone else showed up." He rolled onto his side and grinned at me, eyes alight. "You still have that crush on me?"

"What crush?" The blush in my cheeks didn't play along with the ruse. They burned and surely shone bright red. More tingling downstairs, too.

"You weren't exactly subtle." Cy sat back up and grabbed my hand. "It's flattering. I'm not one of those jack-offs who's going to freak out about it."

"I know. But still. You're straight. It wasn't really right for me to say anything about it." Even though I'd always wanted to. "And it's still not."

"So you still have a crush on me, then?" He leaned over suddenly and kissed my cheek. An innocent thing, but it chilled me, pushed a cold thrill through my veins. He winked at me when he'd pulled back. "And I'd call myself straight-ish, not straight?"

"What?" He was fucking with me, and it was mean. "Cut the crap, Cy."

"Not crap. I've fooled around with guys before. Just… never stoned."

"Which guys?" I could hardly speak. Way too much of my focus went to keeping my dick under control. "Come on, you've never shown any interest."

"I'm subtle. So what?"

"You're not subtle." He inched closer and closer to me, and my voice quieted the nearer he came. "You're probably just high and horny."

He reached over, put his hand on my thigh. Anyone else would have gotten slapped for that. "What if I am? You've got a boner, Jacky."

"Come on. Just calm down." But in my mind, I urged him on, begged for more. "You're acting crazy."

No more words. He leaned in again, pressed his bare chest against me, sucked in my lower lip. I only resisted a moment before melting into him, leaning back and feeling his slight weight against my body. His tongue tangled with mine, and I could taste the smoke on his breath. With so much contact, my skin felt like a sea of sparks. Every contact an explosion, almost an orgasm in itself.

He pulled back and winked again, smiling so wide it filled his face. "We don't have to, if you don't want to. But… I want to."

"Maybe just a little." Or a lot. A hell of a lot. All night.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Tiny Tale Tuesday: Wager

I could hardly keep my stomach steady. We weren't doing much, just sitting in a booth, waiting for the little blonde waitress to bring us our appetizers. But Danny had his hand in my pocket. And there was a hole in my pocket. And I wasn't wearing underwear.

All Danny's idea, too.

His fingers brushed across my balls, raising the heat in my cheeks. I had to resist the urge to cross my legs. All it would have done is trap his hand down there.

"Come on," I whispered. "At least until the waitress comes?"

He shook his head and smiled. The silvery ring in his lip glinted under the fluorescents. "You lost the bet, and you said I could have my way with you."

I had said it… "I'm pretty sure this is illegal."

"Just relax, babe. I promise not to get us caught or anything." He walked his fingers higher, rubbed them over the tip of my dick. I bit back a gasp and tried to cover it with a cough. The old lady in the booth next to us looked over, but didn't say anything. She didn't know, did she?

The waitress came back with a tray and set our plates down in front of us. "There you go, gentlemen. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Danny glanced over at me, a gleam in his eye that I wished I didn't know so well. He wrapped his fingers around my shaft, but nothing more. Just looked up at the waitress. "I'm good." Back to me, smiling wide. "Babe?"

He had something in mind and I knew it. Sure enough, as soon as I opened my mouth, his grip tightened and he slid his fist up and down, pumping me harder. The words caught in my throat and I'd been staring at the waitress way too long. I jut shook my head and looked down to try and hide the red I'm sure filled my face.

As much as I complained, I'd never been this turned on. Not that Danny and I ever had a bad time in the bedroom, but this was new. And my resistance only made my blood rush that much faster, boil and bubble that much hotter.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Still grinning way too wide still stroking up and down my dick, he bit into an onion ring, held the other half up to my lips. "Your favorite."

I snapped it up, and of course that's when he picked up the pace, shooting lightning through my dick, filled my balls with the tingling power. Way familiar, way not the right time for this.

"I think you might want to stop, now." I tried to tell him with my eyes. "Otherwise something's going to happen."

He leaned in close, rested his head on my shoulder. But still stroking. "I don't think I understand. Why don't you tell me?" His breath caressed my neck, hot and humid. Not helping matters. "I want to hear you say it, and then I'll consider stopping. Agreed?"

I nodded. "You better do more than consider stopping." I locked eyes with him and whispered as softly as I could. "You're going to make me come."

He kept up his assault for another second, then finally released me, slipped his hand out from under the table. "You win for now. I'll let you calm down." He winked and snatched up another onion ring, slipped it between my lips. "But once we're in the car, the safety's off."

I snapped up the onion ring and smiled back. "I guess that's all right." Now that he'd let me go, I burned for his touch again. Even if the old lady over there decided she wanted to watch.

"I should lose bets to you more often."

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Tiny Tale Tuesday: Circus Daze

The salt and butter of popcorn filled the air. Raucous cheers filled the lot. And there in the middle, anchoring the chaos, there stood the tent. A gaudy affair of gold and scarlet sweeping into the sky.

Damian walked the dirt path, focused on the tent. He weaved through the crowd, jostled past when they blocked him. All roads in the circus led there, straight to the tent, and no amount of fair food or rigged games of skill would distract him.

Around the tent, the crowd thinned, the show still an hour from starting. But Damian hardly cared about seeing the show again. He'd been yesterday. How much would change?

A burly woman put a hand on his shoulder as he approached the entrance. "Sorry. They're still setting up."

"Nikolai sent me." He showed her the black padded glove he'd gotten.

After a moment, the woman nodded. "Head back then. But don't tire him out too much."

Damian rushed past her before shame heated his cheeks. In the dark of the tent, he hoped it wasn't noticeable. Workers strung up the trapeze, hung bunting around the bleachers. It looked almost like it had the day before. Just a little more disheveled.

"Damian." A thick, liquid voice drew his attention around. He looked over his shoulder and saw the broad, bare chest, the slim waist, the bulge of a package hardly concealed by tight, striped shorts. Nikolai came up and grabbed his hand, dragged him away. "We don't have long."

They wove through other performers, clowns and jugglers and highwire walkers, and darted behind a stack of boxes. Nikolai smiled at him, brilliantly white teeth. "Ready?"

"How often do you do this?"

"As much as I can." He dropped his shorts, unleashing his semi-hard cock. "So I've got lots of practice."

Damian only hesitated a second before stripping off his shirt and pants, standing naked in front of the Cyr wheel artist. Nikolai went straight to work, kneeling, his lips tight around Damian's shaft. He wrapped a hand around his own dick and pumped, matching the rhythm of his mouth to his hand.

So much heat. Damian's knees threatened to buckle after just a few minutes. He felt light-headed, and not just because of the frenzy of the circus. The wet heat around his cock, the slight grunting from Nikolai, the slap of skin on skin as he pumped faster on his own shaft. Sweat beaded on Damian's forehead, dripped down his nose.

The pressure built and built until, finally, it surged out of Damian's cock. He leaned his back against the boxes to keep from falling. One hit, two, three, four, five before his ecstasy abated.

Nikolai rose and nodded, still hard as steel. "It'll be better next time."

"Next time?"

He slipped the shorts back on. Now they really didn't hide anything. "Tonight, after the show." He slapped a hard palm against Damian's bare ass cheek. "Don't disappoint me."

"Don't disappoint me."

Nikolai smiled again. "Doubtful."

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Tiny Tale Tuesday: Satisfied

Fingers tripped along sun-darkened skin, played out a dance across hard biceps and pecs. "Just lay still."

Simon barely nodded at it. He hadn't expected anything like this when he answered the ad, had agreed mostly because of the pictures that accompanied it. And they didn't disappoint. Michael stood tall and muscular, fine, pale hair spreading across his chest. His cock pointed up toward the ceiling, the head purple, glistening with a sheen of pre-come.

He hadn't tied Simon up, hadn't gagged him or otherwise subdued him. But his voice, deep like rum, proved enough. His requests flowed out, and Simon never thought to defy them. Not when Michael had laid on top of him, pressed his tongue forward. Not when he nibbled earlobes and nipples, shooting static across Simon's skin. And certainly not now, as his hands wandered up and down, brushing feather-light across Simon's chest, his ribs, his stomach, and down lower.

Slowly, the fingers tightened, curled into a gentle fist around Simon's cock. Michael leaned in close, whispered into Simon's ear. "Are you loud?"

"Sometimes." Hardly a breath of a word.

"Good. Try to stay quiet."

The firm hand eased up and down Simon's shaft, from his balls all the way up and over the head. Michael spit down onto it, easing the movement. Just knowing he couldn't moan or whimper or beg made it that much harder for Simon. All the sounds of passion filled his mouth, pressed against his lips, begged to be released. He wouldn't be punished in any way for it. Michael had assured him of that. But still, Simon couldn't allow himself to make the noise, even when Michael moved faster, squeezed ever s slightly harder around the over-sensitive shaft.

"Do you want to come yet?"

"No." He didn't want it to end. Not yet, but the pressure built inside of him, fought against the pure pleasure of being touched like this. He knew he wouldn't last long, and Michael kept stroking, applying more pressure, slicking the shaft with spit.

Simon's toes curled up and popped. His fingers tightened, balling up the bed sheet in his fist. He clenched his jaw shut, determined to stay quiet, remain silent even as his back arched up and his balls twitched. Liquid heat flew from his shaft, landed on his neck, his chest, his belly. It tangled in his pubes.

Michael leaned down and licked the last drop of come from Simon's head, then sighed. "Are you satisfied?"

More than he'd been in some time. But just as before, conflict fought within him. He didn't want this over, not yet, not when there could be so much more.

"Not quite."

Michael grinned. "I'll try again."

Monday, March 30, 2015

REVIEW: Writing Erotica for Beer Money

Darlings, I was planning to come back a little bit later, and with something a little better than this. That's still happening, I promise, but something's got my hackles up, so to speak, and I need to speak on it.

Now, normally I don't review books. There are a number of reasons for that. It can look bad sometimes, with one author reviewing another. Or it can lead to hurt feelings among colleagues. And frankly, I find I'm not terribly good at writing reviews. But I read a book last night, and I couldn't contain myself.

I know, the cover isn't exactly my normal fare. But I had confidence in my ability to look past the breasts and see the advice within. The title made it sound like it would be kind of cute, maybe a little quirky, and pretty fun. And it was free, so I took a chance at it.

I wish I hadn't.

The Good:
The writing itself wasn't in any way bad, although it could have used a good proofreading. And the advice on branding covers was very much useful, if already pretty well-known to anyone in the industry. For people just starting, I would definitely say to pay attention to that section.

The Bad:
It honestly felt partially done, like there should have been three times as much book. Dalia Daudelin (so far as I can tell, Michael Meadows didn't really do much in this book) would start in on something, a list of 'kinks' for example. And, after a handful, she would move on, leaving you feeling unsatisfied. There just simply needed to be more of the information that was given, and it would have made a big improvement.

Now, so far it's pretty peaceable. No reason for me to get all in a tizzy. But we're not done. We still have...

The Ugly:
This book was overflowing with ugliness, and that is why I felt the need to review this book, to warn people off from it. Please, if you think you'd like to write erotica, avoid this book. You can find the same (and better) information on blogs and websites all over the internet. Or approach an erotica or erotic romance author. I can't say that everyone will be willing to help, but a number of us will, myself included.

Throughout Beer Money, there's a pervasive feeling that the author(s) don't enjoy writing erotica and, even worse, look down on those who do. According to this book, when people are reading erotica, they just want the same story told over and over. When people are reading erotica, they don't care about typos or story inconsistencies. When people are reading erotica, they don't care about realism at all.

As an erotica author, I find it offensive that they have this distaste for the genre they write in. But that's small. That's their business and, if the numbers quoted can be believed, it's bringing in 2000 dollars a month. So more power to them on that. But to feel that way about erotica/erotic romance readers? That is offensive. That is beyond the pale.

Succinctly, that is fucked up.

I'm not going to say to stop reading the books by these authors. That's not my place. Reading is about enjoyment. What I'm saying is specific to this one book: there's better there. Much, much better.


Monday, October 27, 2014

Halloween Hop: Mumford the Mummy

The music wound down from thudding bass. We pushed together, squeezing out the last two inches of air between our abdomens, our chests, our crotches. Hardness pressed into my thigh, heat. I looked into Mummy's eyes, brushed a stray bandage out of his face and back behind his ear. The grey makeup had faded as the night wore on, revealing streaks of tanned skin. Contacts paled his eyes to blue-white.

His hand slid down my back, under the waistline of my pants, and cupped my ass. "So, now, what are you, again?"

"A ghoul." I bared the dollar-store teeth in a snarl, but just ended up laughing and leaning into Mummy's chest. "I had a good time."

"Me too." I plucked at his bandages to open a space, then slid my hand up underneath, rubbed my thumb in circles around his nipple. "Do you maybe want to unwind?"

"Mummy joke." The corners of his mouth pulled up. "How long where you saving that one?"

I shrugged. "Just came to me."

"That's ghoul." He leaned his head down and wrapped his lips around mine. He gave my ass another squeeze, forcing me harder against him. As the beat picked up, I ground my hips against him, growing harder, tenting out against the torn slacks. I tried not to blush, but I was pretty sure from the heat I was. At least the makeup would hide it. I hoped. But embarrassed or not, I wasn't going to stop or slow down or anything else stupid like that.

I pulled a new slit open in his wrappings and headed down. I kept expecting to hit underwear, but I found bush instead, rough and thick. My fingers brushed taut, hot flesh. Fuck it. I wormed my hand down deeper and wrapped my fingers around the shaft, stroked slowly. The tip was wet with precome. It coated my fingers.

Mummy kissed me again, licked along the roof of my mouth, the edges of my teeth. He pulled away enough to speak and whispered, "My place?"

"How close is it?"

"A couple blocks."

"Perfect." I sighed and pulled my hand out. The strobe lights reflected from the thin veneer of slickness on my fingers. I licked up my finger and swallowed the musty, salty liquid. "I'm Darren."



Don't forget to check out the other blogs on the hop HERE.

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Saturday, October 11, 2014

National Coming Out Day: A Message

I know it's late, darlings, but I won' take much of your time.

See, it's National Coming Out Day, and I wanted to put this out there:

I love you. Even if you think nobody else in this world will love you after you step out of that closet, you're wrong. I can't promise anyone else. I don't have that power. But I can promise you that I'l be waiting for you in the living room with a glass of wine when you step your way out.

Please come out. You'll be happier for it.