I meet myself at a keg party.
Leaning against a counter in an over-bright frat house kitchen, a red Solo cup of the usual half-warm, half-flat, thoroughly-awful beer in hand, listening to my bestie Lydia babble about all the babes in the room as I scan it in pursuit of my own next victim, I see myself. Not in a mirror, though it almost could be, but in a man. Continue reading
Content warning: this story includes instances of dubious consent
I first realized my wife enjoyed a bit of nipple pain early in our courtship when my teeth grazed her nipple and she moaned. I’m not slow to jump on anything that turns a woman on, so I made a point of adding a little rough nipple play into most of our sessions. I soon learned that there was mmm-pain and there was ouch-pain, but figuring out which action caused which re-action was trickier.
I bought the first pair of nipple clamps for our second anniversary. People tell you that sex levels off after you get married, and they aren’t wrong. The only time I felt that old spark from her was when I spent some time biting her nipples, but there were positions where biting wasn’t feasible, and I worried I’d lose myself in the moment and bite one right off. The harder, the better from her point of view, but I didn’t want a wife with one nipple. Continue reading
This story features Jack and Maddox from Deep Under. Although it can be read as a standalone, it will be more enjoyable if you’ve read Deep Under. Please use the Jack&Maddox tag to see all Jack & Maddox epilogues.
The package was waiting for Jack when he got home—a box addressed to Maddox, graced by a Post-It note on which Maddox had written the words Happy Anniversary.
No wrapping paper, no card. Typical Maddox.
Jack ran his thumb over the Post-It note, knowing Maddox had touched it. This assignment had been a rough one—long and relentless, with little downtime and no way to communicate. He’d managed to get an occasional message sent home, but there hadn’t been any way for Maddox to send one back.
It’d been three weeks since he’d been touched by his lover, almost that much since they’d had a chance to speak, and Jack was hungry to see him again. But in the meantime, there was a box. Continue reading
His Boy Alex is a long-term, cock cage-based M/M chastity story told in a series of blog posts by T. M. Chris. Please use the link to go to the first post and click forward from there.
Gannon eyed the white couple walking towards him appreciatively. The bigger man had his arm slung tight around his boyfriend, pulling their heads together to speak directly into his ear. They were beautiful—beautiful individually and beautiful together. Not for the first time, he reminded himself how lucky he was to live in a place like San Francisco where two men could walk down the street obviously enraptured by each other while another man enjoyed the sight.
His complacence was shattered a moment later when the big guy said hey, arresting his movement as they passed each other. Worried that he’d been eye-fucking two guys who weren’t gay after all—who were the type to take offense at being eye-fucked—he almost didn’t stop, but the big guy was smiling, not scowling, so he did.
“Hey,” the guy said again. “I got a proposition for you.” Continue reading
“Not now.” Dmitry pushed my hand away. “You know Adam’s coming over.”
“I can see your cock right through those shorts. If you didn’t want me to touch it, you should’ve worn underwear.”
He looked down with a frown. “I don’t see anything.”
“You will once it’s hard.” I rubbed him through the fabric, feeling that delicious sponginess of an erection starting, the meaty thickness of a slowly-growing cock. Continue reading
The Devil surveyed the man in front of him: slim, short, blond, powerlessly naked against the looming bulk he’d assumed for purposes of intimidation, but not intimidated. The man–Gavriel, his paperwork said–stood strong but not defiant with his hands clasped behind his back and his head down, sneaking little peeks up through his lashes at the magnificent manifestation of evil before him rather as though it turned him on.
This would never do. Continue reading
On the first nice day of March, it was inevitable that the quad would be crowded, that students would line the low stone wall that ringed it, jostling for position and joking noisily. Warmer weather meant that they bounced off each other with smiling gibes instead of hissed warnings as they made their way across the unevenly-paved square. It also meant that the sun was high and bright, glaring off the white stone as it peered over the spire of the administration building.
All of which meant that when Archer looked up in response to a shouted “heads” to find a frisbee coming at him, he tripped, resulting in both the frisbee bouncing off his forehead and his books spraying across the quad. Given the current set of circumstances, that fall was only to be expected and had nothing to do with the row of jocks showing off their bulging biceps in t-shirts. Continue reading
This story, although it can be read as a standalone, is best appreciated as an epilogue to Merge Ahead – Will and Adam’s story.
Will glanced at the email, then quickly looked away. He’d known it was coming. His agent had gone through the terms with him by phone yesterday and had told him the actual contract was on its way, but he still couldn’t look at it directly. It was too bright, too wonderful, too impossible. If he opened the attachment, it wouldn’t really be a publishing contract. Would it?
“What do you think?” he asked the cat curled up in his lap. Cricket patted Will’s cheek with her paw.
“Yes, yes, I know. Pet you.” He scratched behind her ears, pretending to be put out by how needy she was but secretly appreciating the fact that Cricket liked him best. Cricket’s older sister Marnie never sat in his lap. Marnie was as head-over-heels in love with his husband Adam as Will was himself, but Cricket … Cricket liked him. Continue reading