You knew the boy you took home from the club was grateful for sex. He was horny. You couldn’t blame him. Lotta hot guys in the club. You didn’t even care that he walked funny cause of some condition he had. His ass was still fuckable. All you needed. But apparently you under-estimated how grateful your boytoy was for said fucking because you woke up to coffee and the most beautiful donuts in the universe.
“Wow.”
“They smell sooo good.”
“They’re almost too pretty to eat.”
“….But you will eat them right?”
“Eventually. Say, boy?”
“Yes?”
“I fucked you once last night. But there’s six donuts here. Want to even it out a bit?”
His eyes go wider than the donuts. “Really? You still want to fuck me? Even sober?”
I snort. “You need to get your self esteem up. Yeah. I do. You have a really nice ass. Let’s go eat breakfast in bed!”
”Ok!!”
You watch him walk in that strange gait of his. It made his butt move in an exaggerated way. Kind of mesmerizing really. “I’m definitely going to eat this cream puff thing off your ass…”
“What?” he grumped. He wouldn’t look at his friend.
“I’m not mad. I’m not upset with you for looking. It’s ok.”
“…You’re not going to beat me up?”
“Nah. I kind of uh, like it, that you look.”
Paul stared at his friend. “What?” He hissed.
“I said I don’t mind if you look.”
Paul looked around. “You’re going to get beat up if you talk like that!”
“Oh who cares? No one can hear us. We’ll all be naked when we go swimming anyway.”
“…That’s. Well.”
John began to giggle. “It’s so silly. If we swim naked, no one cares but if I tell you I like your arse when we’re dry it’s worth a beating?”
Paul cracked a smile. “It’s a little silly.”
“It is! Very silly. About as silly as us falling in mud earlier and dirtying our pants. Come on, let’s go to the waterhole now. Everyone’s ahead of us. I want to grill some hot dogs!”
“Pants? Coach, it’s sooo hot out at practice today. Do I really need to wear pants?” Coach squirms. “Well. Well. Uh. At least wear a cup. Don’t want you to get hurt.” “Great idea Coach. Help me put it in?” Coach crosses himself. “jesus please watch over me. I’m going in.”
Mama told Theodore to not socialize with the ‘Negro’ who gardened on their property. Theo was told to avoid him at all costs because he would “corrupt” her sweet boy. Mama did not expect or know that someone should have warned the gardener about Theodore, who so easily corrupted him first. There were many daring nights fucking on the dark lawn, fornicating in the shrubbery, and pleasuring each-other with oral in the horsebarn before dawn…
Of course, when Theo was finally caught buried balls deep in the gardener’s behind, Theo got the most severe punishing of his life. He couldn’t sit for days and felt so remorseful he couldn’t even get an erection – but watching the gardener work without shirt slowly fixed that broken organ.
Mama was horrified at the direction of Theo’s gaze even after his punishment, and sent the gardener to another manor and her son off to proper boarding school. Theo was disappointed, but played along because Mama was fool – sending Theo to a boarding school full of vigorous teenage boys? What was she thinking!
Theo had his mind to be his own type of teacher after the lights went out, and indeed sampled many young men for many days. But when he was alone with his own hand and own time, his thoughts drifted back to that sweaty gardener with the most beautiful dark skin and the deepest moans…
Theo swore one day he would graduate university, find that man, and hire him for his own home. And he’d never call him ‘Negro’ again. He’d call him by his proper name, Nelson -hm, no Dear Nelson- and require them both to always be naked. It would be such a sight!
________________________________________________________________ Captions are fictional. Check out @felixdeon‘s art. Never dull.
“Oh hello honey.” “Don’t mind me. Just doing a routine inspection and check.” “A check? for what?” “To make sure you still have a butt and it’s a nice butt. MMnn… mmn. Hm. Yep. Still there. All good.” “Well that’s a relief. Thank you for your diligence in this relationship. I can’t see my butt and can’t check myself.” “It’s my pleasure. Love ya.” “Love you too babe.”
__________________________ Captions are fictional.
This is a straight couple trying this, but oh my god I am laughing so hard I am in tears. You need to read this. Click on the “Week 1″ link and read em through.
To follow up on my last post, the following are some of my favorite stories that (I believe) are not on the Nifty Archive. Some are on other websites while others were published as books or magazine stories. I’ve added a link where I can find the source.
So, fun fact. I was first getting into reading erotic fiction back when the internet was still only just starting to become a thing, so a lot of my one-handed reading was courtesy of erotic story anthologies. If you’re familiar with the works of Phil Andros or Rick Jackson and his incredibly hot military adventure tales, you’re probably smiling at this right now. I have no idea if any of their books are even still available, but I dug the fuck out of them, and you probably will too.
One author who really opened my eyes to the possibility of the erotic story form is R.J. March. He’s apparently long out of the game now – I haven’t heard anything from him in probably a decade, at least – but his collections “Looking For Trouble” and “Hard” are stunningly well-written, incredibly sexy collections of genuine writing. “Looking For Trouble” is an especially strong collection, with a singular voice and depth that still read true almost 20 years later. You can find them used on Amazon – sorry boys and girls, paperback only, no e-books – and if you can track a copy down, I highly recommend them.
Writers like R.J. March were once the staple of the gay stroke mags that sadly no longer really exist, which provided a rich resource of fresh fiction every month. The only one of those authors still out there, that I know of, is Natty Soltesz, who’s still doin’ it live at @nattysoltesz and @br0b8, and still putting out compilations of his writing that you need to be reading (and buying!)
Another non-internet staple for me was the Flesh and the Word anthology series. The first one is still the best, featuring a diverse array of writers, characters and situations from some of the best gay fiction writers of the time. You can find copies of that on Amazon too.
Anthologies used to be a solid, fairly thriving business, but just like a lot of the gay magazines, it’s another of those formats that the internet very nearly suffocated to death. I’d really like to see the format revived, now that almost all of us have discreet reading devices in our pockets, pretty much. It’s part of the reason why I’ve (finally) begun branching out into ebooks myself, and it’s very cool to see authors like my bro @boymercuryx working to revive the form too, with quality short and longer-form works of erotic fiction that put an emphasis on the craft of writing, as much as the art of getting you off. I’d love to see much more of it, and I’m sure you will too. I’m gonna continue doing my part, and I look forward to hopefully putting some carefully crafted stroke fiction into your hands, just like all these authors (and so many more) did for me back in the day.
So … of course I have to chime in, me being older than anyone in the room, because when I was getting into Erotic Fiction, the fucking internet didn’t even fucking exist. Not even as some military industrial complex prototype. (But to be clear, my bro’s werds, above, about stroke fiction are so fucking resonant. This thread has caused some relatively profound personal reflection, so thanks for that @talesfromunderthemattress and @drakestories.)
My additions:
1. John Preston, Legend. AKA: The Dark Lord. AKA: Best friend to Ann Rice (and instrumental in getting her to publish her erotic fiction). AKA; Dead of AIDS.
Preston burst on to the scene with Mr. Benson (And fuck: Where’s my copy?), a groundbreaking epic that both exposed and created the Modern Gay Male Leather Scene.
Then of course, his “I Once Had a Master” series which literally changed my life.
2. John Preston, Part Two. He edited a couple of absolutely fantastic anthologies, pictured, below. In the first (Tales from the Dark Lord), two stand out. “Poontang for the Cause: An Homage to Phil Andros” (who my bro references, above). I can’t properly explain it here, given the nature of story. Just look for it. The second, Private Kirowsky, is a porn I have never – ever – forgotten. It is that good. It is that specific. It is that unique.
It is also hard-core … and it’s a love story.
Reviewing these volumes again, I understand that the seeds of my erotic writing were planted by John Preston’s cock. And that story – Private Kirowsky – was the most significant and potent load he ever dumped in my guts. It’s still there. It has never left.
3. Of course, my bro @talesfromunderthemattress is right: The First Flesh and the Word Anthology was the best. But, us smut-freaks kept buying. There’s good stuff in these follow ups. Find them here and here.
4. Here’s some other faves. Just take a look. (Also if you find ANYTHING by Lars Eighner, which has become difficult, read it. That’s a fucking order, boys. Note that he has stories in several of these anthologies, too, and, I think, in some of the Flesh and the Words.)
5. And if you ever go to a dirty old queer book store, or better yet, a sleazy smut-shop (before they all close), then head upstairs to the cheap-racks, where you can pick up copies of First Hand and Manscape – probably at ten for a dollar. I grew up on these books, yanking under the covers while my parents dreamed of the grandkids I would never produce. (Though, I tried. God did I try. That’s why M-preg stories turn me on so much.) Manscape published my first smut, based on my true adventures as a College Tea-Room Whore. (Somewhere I have a copy. I’ll find it, eventually.)
Side Note: Check out the Firsthand January 1985 featured article: “Should We Marry.” My how times have changed.
(And yeah, this fucking dad has nearly every copy ever published. So come to my estate sale, when it happens, and get a fucking bargain.)
These are my additions to this esteemed list. But I will close by offering praise to Bill Drake’s second choice: Corporal in Charge …. This is another classic in the genre – another life-changing epic that made my cock grow two inches, my balls expand and my identity solidify.
How do I know? I got two copies of that fucker.
Enjoy this smut. It’s smut that is actual smut. Artistic smut.
Now any idiot can post on Nifty (or Tumblr) and any idiot does. But young-uns: back in the day only a man (or woman) with skill, artistry and craft could get their work published, and these fuckers had all that and more.
So many excellent pieces! I can really only add the work of Matthew Haldeman-Time (http://www.matthewhaldemantime.com/) like his “Incredible”, which is warm and happy in a way that I also am, but which doesn’t necessarily come across via this blog. 😀
