25 on 5 - Bandit's Prey 2

by Jardonn Smith, Copyright 2007

“Sorry, Bob, I don’t believe you. Guess you’ll have to watch us do our thing.”

Taggert stood helplessly and waited. The arches of his feet already were sore, but any lowering of his body tightened the noose around his neck, so he continued to prop himself up. He watched the men bring two of his saw horses from the side wall and place them between him and his two ranch hands. With a shotgun still aimed at their heads, Jason and Lucas were forced to strip naked, then made to bend over and straddle the ends of the horses. The blond-haired Lucas cast his eyes to the floor, while Jason turned to look at his boss.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Taggert. We ain’t told ‘em nothin’.”

“I know, boys.”

Each of the men’s ankles were roped to the two vertical legs of the saw horses, followed by their wrists, which were stretched beyond their heads and tied to the top horizontal beams. From Bob’s view, each man’s buttocks faced him about four feet away, while their bodies were bent at angles of 90 degrees. Their legs were spread like an inverted “V” in conjunction with the legs of the saw horses, while their strong backs flared from the extended and stretched position of their arms.

Bob encouraged them by explaining the deal. "It's my fault they're here, men. I'm sorry. I got us into this mess and we'll just have to fight through it." 

The lead henchman butted in, “That’s a touching speech, Mr. Taggert, but we know they can’t help us. They’re just here for our entertainment. You can watch, too.”

Removing their belts, two of the bandits started laying leather across the broad backs of the ranch hands, starting at the deltoids and working downward towards the butt cheeks. Neither victim cried out, but emitted manly grunts and an occasional whimper. Taggert watched the beatings in anger, but his rage was not directed at the hoodlums. No, Bob Taggert was angry with himself – and his wife. It had been less than 24 hours since they had last seen the man responsible for this invasion – this violence against him and his employees.

Sex had brought this to them. Bob and Marsha Taggert liked to swing with other couples. They had just wrapped up a satisfying four way in the plush room where they had spent the last two evenings – The Pepper Grinder Hotel and Casino in Wendover, Nevada.

Wendover was just a lonely spot along Interstate 80, until someone decided to put a casino there. Surrounded by the Utah Salt Flats to the east and Nevada desert for endless miles in every other direction, there was no logical reason to put anything there, but somebody did and soon two other companies came to the same area to build.

Bob and Marsha loved to visit Wendover – more Marsha than Bob – and would book their favorite room at the Pepper Grinder weeks in advance, even though there was no need for reservations. It was their destination of choice for any special occasion or just to get away, because Marsha loved to play the slots, while Bob enjoyed the comfy beds, good food, saunas, swimming pools and frequent sex parties his constantly-horny wife managed to put together for him. Plus, knowing how his wife liked to gab with strangers, he avoided taking her to Las Vegas or Reno, where too many hustlers and con-artists lurked for easy prey. The Wendover crowd – what little there was of it – was more their kind of people and this allowed Bob to relax when there.

His first meeting with Everett and Mindy Hurst came at the hotel pool and nearby whirlpools on an open-air rooftop. Pre-arranged by Marsha, the Hursts joined the Taggerts for a swim, then conversation in bubbling and heated water – four in a hot tub. Bob’s screening process was thorough, as Everett and Mindy convincingly posed as vacationers weary of the crowded casinos of Las Vegas and Reno. He was an insurance salesman for The Prudential and she, like Marsha, a housewife. None had kids, because they preferred to party – in the bedroom – and since they were more than attractive enough, that’s where the four of them ended up. Two joy-seekers and two supposed vacationers traded partners to fuck, eat pussy and suck cock in a marathon, six-hour session.

Making the most of the Taggerts’s two-king-sized-bed suite, the gala ended with some three-on-one body worship, the final recipient being Bob. They stretched him out on one of those big beds, and while Mindy and Marsha took turns riding up and down Bob's thick pole, Everett and whichever other one was available worked their tongues all over Bob’s compact and strong body, stimulating every sensitive area that could be found.

It was one of the hottest hook-ups he had ever been involved with and he performed like some sort of super-human stud, keeping his cock fully swollen and firing endless salvos into whatever receptacle happened to be ready to take it. After that, Bob and Marsha slept peacefully, while Everett and Mindy returned to the casino for more slot play – or so they said. Obviously, the Hursts had checked out of the hotel and – armed with whatever information they had finagled out of the naive Marsha – managed to find the Taggert ranch, bringing the entire gang of bandits with them.

Suddenly, a painful scream jolted Bob from these memories.

Straining his neck to the left, he saw a cattle prod electrocuting his foreman, Marsh Nolan. The suspended man howled in agony, as the metal touched the middle of his back and forced him to thrust his upper torso forward, where he was greeted by two solid fists pounding into his chest and belly. Taggert winced when he saw what they were doing to his good friend. Nolan's body twisted and writhed, uselessly trying to avoid the simultaneous assault to both his front and back.

Oddly, Bob Taggert didn’t think about the ungodly pain being inflicted upon his foreman, but more about the desecration of that beautifully masculine body – one which he had seen up close and personal many times. Wiry and chiseled from hard work on the ranch, now it was being scarred by hideous jolts and bruising punches. And as a further insult, the cattle prod was one of their own – hand-held, battery powered and capable of delivering up to 60,000 volts of electricity – used by the ranchers in persuading animals to move through chutes or up and down ramps. It was designed to prod 1000 pound livestock – not 180 pound humans. Marshall Nolan was a man and Taggert could no longer idly watch them torture his friend with that hideous device.

“God damn you, Hurst, stop it. He doesn’t know anything.”

“Of course not. We figured that out long ago. This is for your benefit.”

“Leave him be. Let my men go and work on me.”

Hurst raised his hand and the torture stopped. “Your time will come soon enough.”

Nolan’s body collapsed and the chin dropped onto his chest. Scars of crimson red peppered his handsomely defined shoulders and muscular back. Bob was sickened by the sight of this, as he reflected upon the times he had lovingly scraped his nipples across the solid surface of that man’s back, while driving his penis into the squeezing depths of the same man’s bowels.

Men get lonely moving cattle from one part of 250,000 acres to another, and since men are purely sexually beings, they have no reservations about taking care of one another next to a warm campfire miles from nowhere. These men held a deeply seeded trust and fondness for one another – a necessity on the open range, where one slip up could result in injury to either men, horses or valuable livestock. Inspired by rolling hills and natural grasslands at the foot of the Calico Mountains, these men strengthened their bonds when darkness fell.

Every 30 days or so, Bob, Marsh, Lucas and Jason would cull a number of select animals from the herd, then drive them to the feedlot pens built between Nolan’s living quarters and the main ranch house. These cattle drives usually took at least 76 hours to complete and when the four men were alone at night on the grasslands, Bob would hook up with Marsh and Jason with Lucas.

This man’s cattle was a prized commodity. Once the selected head were brought to the home feedlots, they would be pampered for the final year of their lives. Only irrigated corn went into their bellies and Taggert beef had a direct pipeline to all the Las Vegas and Reno hotels. In fact, all Bob Taggert needed to do when he had livestock ready for harvesting was to dial his phone, call the packing house and wait for their trailer trucks, which would be sent directly to his ranch within 12 hours. For three generations the Taggert family had run one of the finest cattle operations in the state and a check arriving from the Gerlach Postal Office would mean pay day for the Taggerts and their hired hands.

He loved these men and treated them accordingly. They had a top-notch bunkhouse within sight of the main house, plus Bob Taggert paid them in cash, because where they lived banks were hard to come by. Three hours north of Reno, the only town of size anywhere near the ranch was Gerlach and even that was 65 miles away. This is why Bob used the bank only to convert checks into cash and kept plenty of it in a safe at his home.

Next post 04-25

Hot July Weekly Picks

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All in the Family

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Playing the Fields

Summer time is when the minds of young men turn to... SPORTS!


Here's three books involving some amazing athletes, from

Click title links to see covers and read excerpts.

Something About Trevor

by

Drew Hunt

Paul Harrison is completely straight. His house will not flood again. And gay men don’t play cricket. Eventually Paul will find out just how incorrect these preconceived notions are.

When the river overflows its banks, Paul is forced to find temporary accommodation. The only practical suggestion comes from Trevor, an out and proud work colleague. Despite Paul’s hesitancy regarding Trevor’s offer of hospitality, he accepts and soon grows to admire Trevor, his humanity, his determination, and his abilities with a cricket ball.

In order to protect his fragile emotions, Trevor keeps people at a distance by wearing gaudy clothing and behaving outrageously. He had no way of knowing that doing the right thing by offering Paul his spare room will lead to such a big change in his life.

A tenuous connection develops between the two men. But misunderstandings and in-born prejudices threaten to derail their growing friendship. Things get even more complicated when Gary, Trevor’s ex-lover, shows up.

Can Trevor learn to trust again? Will Paul listen to his heart and discover that, despite first impressions, there’s just something about Trevor he can’t deny?

Capping The Season
by

Ryan Field

Hunter’s sex appeal came in that innocent way dark, rough men always seem to notice. About five eleven, with blond hair and large blue eyes; a slim body frame enhanced by working out in the basement with free weights and push ups. Though his arms weren’t particularly large, his chest muscles responded to bench presses and push ups to the point where they rounded and popped like unbreakable ostrich egg shells sliced directly in half. But most men noticed one thing first: his round ass, a protruding cushion begging to be pounded and slapped and plugged.

 

The landscaping guys, always on the down low, would furtively watch while he pruned and trimmed hedges, parading his naked torso, sometimes pulling the sheer shorts so far below his waist half the crack of his smooth ass could be seen. Though it didn’t happen often (most of the time this was just a show), when Hunter noticed one of the guys seriously watching, he’d gradually arch his back, stretch his arms and then nod toward the garden shed. The guy would follow him to a private place behind the shed, where Hunter would slip off his shorts and lay face down on a pile of mulch. He’d then spread his legs wide, arch his back so his engaging ass would be in the air, and the guy would pull down his zipper for a quick afternoon fuck. In a white enamel pail with chips around the rim, Hunter kept lube and a full supply of condoms. Once, on a rare, unforgettable afternoon, when four Spanish speaking studs had been drinking too much beer on the job, Hunter spread his legs and arched his back while all four took turns nailing him into the mulch pile. It took a week for the reddish hand prints, where they’d squeezed his supple ass so hard, to disappear.

 

Though he’d miss the summertime romps and capping off the baseball season with the landscaping boys, living a mortgage-free life was far more exciting. The new town house, in an exclusive community of only thirty large units, had year round landscapers included in the monthly community fees. Hunter would never have to push a lawn mower, dig with a shovel or rake a leaf again. He wouldn’t have to work out at home in the basement anymore either; he could now afford to join a gym like all his friends, where he’d prance around naked in the locker room for men who were just as horny (and dirty) as the landscaping guys. He also portended he’d be able to distract at least a few of the guys who landscaped in the new town house community, too, by walking around on his rear deck in nothing but a short towel.

 

 

Power Play
by

J.M. Snyder

Ryan Talonovich is the star of his college hockey team, until an accident during practice leaves him confined to a wheelchair. The doctors say he'll walk again but a new season is already underway and he's been replaced on the team, which leaves him feeling alone and betrayed. What's the use of fighting to get back on the ice now?

 

Then he meets Dante Espinosa, a short track skater on the city's speed skating club. Though he has to work overtime to afford his sport, Dante is hell on ice, and dreams of making the cut on the U.S. Olympic Speedskating Team.

 

Their love of the ice brings them together, but too many obstacles stand in their way: Ryan's struggle with therapy. The memory of Dante's first boyfriend. Lack of funding to the event, Dante's harassing boss, a skating friend in love with him, and Wil Dietrich, who will do anything to win.

 

Twilight's Last Gleaming

Twilight might be a visual feast, but reading vampire erotica can stimulate for countless moons to come. 1EroticaEbooks has got the vampires you're looking for, and here are three picks for our weekly sizzlers. Click title links for info and excerpts.

Vampires of Prague

by

Elliott Mabeuse

Naked from the waist up, she was aware only of his eyes now, and of something he saw inside her, of a part of her she’d always been dimly aware of but that now lit up so that it obscured something else. It was a secret of hers—something her grandmother had told her, and she felt it now under the vampire’s eyes with starling clarity, a memory from twenty years ago. She smelled the old woman’s powder, saw the fussy wallpaper in the room, and felt once again a child’s frightened and impatient emotions as her grandmother pressed something into her hands, and told her to keep it, keep it and learn it. Remember it, for it was hers, only hers. And she had, and now Szandor was here for it. It had been real and her grandmother had been right. Szandor was here for it and she had it for him, waiting, waiting all these years…

And then it was gone and Szandor Arnyak had her in his arms, his hands at the belt of her skirt.

Oh God, Szandor wait! I can’t just do it like this! Like an animal, like a common whore. There has to be some respect, some tenderness—”

But he wasn't listening. He had her skirt open, the belt, the zipper in the back, the top pushed down, For his size and his power he worked with incredible grace and finesse, his fingers barely touching her, and with a deft sweep of his hand, her skirt and slip were gone and she was lying there on the sunken bed in stockings, panties and garters, still arguing with him though the conversation had long since been decided.

No, he said finally, silencing her. He stared directly into her eyes, and his eyes were glowing. “For this you are my whore, Lydia. You are precisely a whore for me!”

Soul Kiss: The Confessions Of A Homoerotic Vampire

by

Alexander Renault

Cuthbert is an immortal, gay, and sexually ravenous member of the undead.

Historically accurate, Soul Kiss tells an enthralling story set against backdrops of differing cultures from ancient Egypt to the Greco-Roman era, from medieval Cornwall to Civil War Philadelphia, as Cuthbert searches for identity through erotic pleasure. From musings on existential questioning to the value of immortality itself, Renault guides his reader through a gripping maze of passion, lust, and sexual obsession. The tale of Cuthbert’s journey ends in modern America at a dwelling on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. After a series of emotionally empty sexual encounters, Cuthbert must face the truth of what he has for so long been searching -- who he is and what it means to be both gay and immortal. The renowned contemporary poet Antler says Alexander Renault's work shows a "heightened eros awareness." We think you'll agree.

The Ascension
by

Max Griffin

Gabe can't keep up with his lover, Luke. Athletic and driven, Luke planned their holiday camping on Slain's Peak. Gabe, sensitive and quiet, hoped for a week of hot sex under the stars. But nothing on the vacation turns out as intended. From Gabe's hidden drug use, to an unexpected snowstorm, to a sudden illness that befalls Luke, it's a disaster. When all seems lost, a mystery man appears from nowhere and rescues the two, leading them to his home in the depths of the mountain. That's when the dark mysteries lurking in Slain's Peak surface, and everything changes forever for the two lovers.

Let's Play the Ponies

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Femdom Festival at 1EroticaEbooks

Foaming at the mouth over ferocious females, I feel no guilt fawning over the fully-stocked files of femdom fiction featured at 1EroticaEbooks.

For real, they are quickly becoming THE PLACE to find not only the latest, but the best e-books on the web for femdom stories, and their collection of offerings grows daily. So, for this week's selection of triple-digit sizzlers, I asked the webmasters at 1Erotica to suggest three titles involving the most alluring, most sexily-dominant female characters they could come up with. Click title links to view covers, read excerpts and see if you agree.

His Secret Self

by

Alex Jordaine

Mark Wright is living a lie. A closet submissive, he feels unable to reveal his secret self to his wife Lauren for fear it might destroy their relationship. Instead he visits a professional dominatrix, Mistress Simone, who caters expertly to his masochistic needs. But Lauren has her own dark secret. She is having a clandestine affair with a business client, Sam Lowell. When she leaves her husband for Sam, Mark's life spirals out of control. He develops a drink problem, which leads to him being sacked from his high-flying job. As he struggles to rebuild his shattered life he dreams desperately of somehow getting Lauren to return to him.

All the cards seem to be stacked against Mark ever getting Lauren back until she discovers Sam has been doing behind her back exactly what she'd once done to her husband, and she walks out on him. She gets back in touch with Mark who finally finds the courage to admit to her he's a masochist. This leads to Lauren embarking on a personal voyage of discovery during which she at last discovers her own true self. From that point on the tension becomes almost unbearable as the story builds towards its unforgettable conclusion.

Warning: This title contains graphic language, anal sex, domination, bondage, and sadomasochism.

Female Whips 'n Kisses

by

Dr Jane Foxx

Cassandra’s black, thigh-high boots clicked their noisy way across the floor as she moved the wooden stool to a new position. The tethered male groaned softly.

Cassandra sat comfortably again, wiggling her curvy bottom into place, and hissed, "Let's see if I can find those ultra-sensitive testicles of yours! I'm sure a little prolonged, judicious squeezing will make you pay better attention to me! Hold still until “Mommy” gets a proper handful, and then you can squirm and wiggle that cute little ass all you want. Ha ha!"

I saw Cassandra's right hand move slowly upward from between the rear of the male's naked thighs, and then she grasped tenaciously. Cassandra chuckled with satisfaction as her subject winced sharply on contact.

"Yes!" She grinned sadistically. "There's your plump little darlings! You didn't think you could hide them from me, did you?"

High Heels in the Library

by

SJ Barellstalk

Tommy Watkins is teased, denied, milked and disciplined by the pretty women of Svenmehr College, an all women's school. Tommy cannot resist the high heels, slender legs, and short skirts of the pretty students at the College. The female teasing is real, erotic, sensual and creative. Tommy's masculine urges result in his getting into plenty of trouble and receiving plenty of appropriate punishment and discipline. The women teach him to be polite and chaste in a female world after they have teased and denied him almost into insanity.

* * *

Don't know about you, but I am cowering before these evil goddesses already. I only hope they feel these descriptions do them justice.

Yours truly,

Jack (for Jasper) McCutcheon

1EroticaEbooks Triple-Digit Sizzlers 6-2-10

As promised, here's three hot reads for the week. Click on the title links to see cover pics and read excerpts.

Strapped Tight

by

Habu

As told through the weekend encounters of an obsessive young businessman, Strapped Tight provides an unabashed glimpse into the compulsive cycle of domination and fulfilled arousal of gay male coupling in the fetish-driven world of bondage. Here nonviolent, consensual sexual pleasure is attained from dominator control, the tight squeeze, and strapped entrapment and taking.

Mastering Stefan

by

J.M. Snyder

Three years and Stefan's yet to find that certain someone who can take him to the precipice of lust, dangle him over the abyss, and shove him headlong into the darkness of his own desire. Someone who drives him to the edge but won't let him fall. Someone he can trust completely, body and soul, someone he can lose himself in. When a local gay bar called the Code hosts a fetish night, Stefan goes looking to be conquered.

There Stefan meets the man of his dreams, known only as Master. But when put to the test, can he prove himself worthy of such a man?

Heart of Submission

by

Claire Thompson

When Kate attends a BDSM weekend in the city, she falls too far, too fast, into an erotic submission that threatens to blow her safe little world apart. When the possibility of a loving exchange of power presents itself, will Kate find her way to the heart of submission?

There they are. Did I mix it up okay? Two M/m; one F/m and plenty of the best letters, BDSM, to kink up the works. Can your hand-helds handle it?

Yours truly,

Jack (for Jasper) McCutcheon

The Lot

A little holiday treat for you all

© 2008 James Buchanan

If Kyle heard one more go round of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” he would step out into traffic. Sorry, no, Southern California…it didn’t look anything at all like Christmas. No snow except for the blown on fake shit in the flocking tent. With midday highs hitting eighty degrees, the only gloves in evidence were Kyle’s cheap canvas and leather work gloves. A hazy brown evening sky hovered around the tops of bone dry mountains. It made the Christmas trees and twinkling lights seem like a cheap hooker’s overwrought make-up…no matter how you looked at it, how well it was done, you just knew it covered something pretty trashy.

Kyle gritted his teeth and went after the bottom branches on the Noble Fir with a vengeance. Nothing like a four foot long set of loppers to get the I’m-not-in-the-holiday-spirit aggression out.

“Wait!” His customer’s cartoon feminine voice cut down his spine. It had only been, maximum, twenty minutes that he’d been subjected to the helium wonder of her words and Kyle already ached to use the loppers on her vocal cords.

Kyle plastered on the cheery customer service smile he’d perfected waiting tables before he turned. “Yes, ma’am?”

She pouted with an aging Valley Girl hip cock and a finger pressed to her bottom lip. “Do you have to take so much off the bottom?”

Fighting to keep the smile from slipping, Kyle stared over her shoulder and sang a refrain of “Hey Santa” in his head. The only song ever to combine Santa and cunt in the same sentence usually managed to keep Kyle from slipping into a postal wig-out.

Beyond Miss Annoying Voice, among the rows of Pines, Spruces, and Cedars roamed a man. Given that the guy wandered among the five-footers and still stood close to a head taller, he probably neared six foot. He stepped into a space between the trees. Kyle sucked in an appreciative hiss. Damn, shaved skull and a t-shirt so tight it could have been painted on, complemented a tight ass tucked into deep indigo jeans.

Absently, Kyle answered her question, “You, ah, won’t be able to fit it in the base you bought if we don’t.” What he wouldn’t have given to be those jeans.

“Ah, excuse me,” the cartoon voice jerked Kyle’s attention away from his mental drooling, “are you going to finish my tree?”

Kyle took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, just a second.” Then he called out toward the other customer. “Be with you in a bit, sir!” Be on my knees in front of you in a second if I had my wish. “Just finishing up here.”

A deep, throaty, “No problem,” answered him and Kyle had to turn before the chick caught him sprouting more wood than the artificial forest surrounding them.

As quick as he could manage, Kyle stripped the bottom two branches then manhandled the tree to her steroid-ridden SUV. He had to re-do the tie downs twice because she fretted that Kyle hadn’t strapped it down tight enough. Each second Kyle wasted with her was one lost investigating him.

Finally she roared out of the parking lot and Kyle jogged back into the rows of trees. Kyle found him nosing around the mini-me trees that didn’t hit higher than the guy’s knees. Leg’s splayed out, arms folded across his chest, the man drummed thick fingers against a bulging bicep. Kyle’s boots crunched over the packed dirt lot, announcing his presence. The customer looked over at Kyle. The deepest brown eyes Kyle had ever seen made a slow up and down tour of Kyle’s body.

“Hi,” Kyle tried not to sound desperate…for either a sale or a blow-job. Although he’d much rather have the blow-job, Kyle’d settle for having the guy walk out with a tree. “My name’s Kyle. See anything you like, Mr.—“

Another head to toe crawl ended in an amused smirk. “Mike.” The smirk widened into a grin. “I just might have.”

“Well,” Kyle swallowed, “What kind of tree are you looking for. You like the small ones?”

“As long as it’s good and thick.”

Kyle couldn’t resist the tease. “I got one more in the mid sized range and pretty thick.”

“Didn’t see any of those out here on the lot. Is it hidden back there?” Mike jerked his head toward the big red and white tent. Through the open flap, stacks of still bundled trees created a maze. “I’d appreciate you showing me one like that.”

Kyle reminded himself that he needed this job. A quickie in the storage tent could get him canned five days before Christmas. Mike, as though he sensed the hesitation, smiled and stepped close. God, Mike smelled like he’d been working in the sun, all musky and male. Kyle decided to hell with working the tree lot, half the stores in town sported help wanted signs. “I could show you one in the back.”

“Great,” Mike sauntered off toward the tent, “show me what you got.” Pausing at the entrance, Mike looked back over his shoulder. “You expecting any help anytime soon?”

Kyle stopped next to Mike and wracked his brain for time. Marco and Jeff left about half an hour ago and they had three deliveries and a drive-thru run to make. “The other guys’ll be back in maybe fifteen minutes.”

Mike stepped into the tent, snagged Kyle’s belt loop and used it as a leash to pull him inside. “I’ll be quick then.” Still steering Kyle by the grip on his jeans, Mike led them back between the rows of trees. When they were out of plain view, he shoved Kyle against a pile of firs. Mike dropped to his knees. Before Kyle could do much of anything, Mike had the button popped and the zipper down. Kyle groaned as Mike fished his aching prick out of its denim prison. “You weren’t lying,” Mike grinned up at him, “nice size, just how I like it.”

Slowly, Mike ran his tongue along the underside of Kyle’s half-hard cock. He traced the flare of the head and then blew across the wet trail. Kyle stifled a moan. Mike snorted, twisting Kyle’s prick to full glory in his fist. “Yeah, really thick.” Mike muttered. Still jacking the cock in his hand, Mike wrapped his lips over the head. Mike’s free hand wormed into the gap of Kyle’s jeans. Using the back of his wrist, Mike forced Kyle’s jeans lower.

Holy shit! Kyle shuddered as Mike’s searching fingers moved behind his balls and tickled his hole. His hips bucked into the delicious combination of fist and mouth. Mike released his cock and moved to squeeze Kyle’s sac. This time, Kyle didn’t suppress his groan. He could almost feel Mike’s smile around his cock. As Mike sucked Kyle down to the root, he shoved a finger up Kyle’s ass. Kyle squirmed at the rawness of it, forcing his prick deeper into Mike’s throat.

Mike took it, barely gagging. The suction he managed, combined with the finger probing his hole and Mike’s massaging his balls, lit up Kyle’s nerves like a string of flashing Christmas lights. He slid his hand over Mike’s sweat slicked skull. He was so off balance. The trees behind him didn’t offer any support and he couldn’t get a grip on Mike. Pine needles stuck Kyle’s bare ass adding a hint of pain. Kyle thrashed. Mike kept sucking and fucking until Kyle lost it. One moment he was just flailing and the next he was pumping his load into Mike’s hot mouth. Swallow after swallow, Mike took it all.

When Kyle was dry, Mike pulled his hands out of Kyle’s jeans. Mike licked his lips and grinned. “I’d say you got a few minutes to spare.” He stood and held out his hand to help Kyle stand. It took a moment for Kyle to get his knees back under him. It’d been a while since he’d gotten off like that.

“Oh, wow,” Kyle caught his breath, “thanks.” He hadn’t been this mellow since before Thanksgiving. Kyle yanked up his pants and tucked himself away. Christmas didn’t seem so bad after all.

“My pleasure.” Mike fished in his back pocket, pulled out a money clip and began pulling off twenties. “Sixty bucks, right?”

Suddenly, Kyle’s mood shifted from happy and sated to supremely pissed off. He may have been easy and horny, but he wasn’t that desperate. Jeans still unzipped and gaping, Kyle tried to back away. His retreat was blocked by the infernal pile of trees. “Hey look, that’s not what this was…” He sputtered.

“Kyle.” Mike grabbed his jaw and forced Kyle to look him in the eyes. “The sign outside says, ‘we deliver any tree over sixty dollars free’.” With a wicked grin, Mike used his other hand to shove three bills down the front of Kyle’s open jeans, right next to Kyle’s prick. Before drawing back Mike gave it a squeeze. “Sixty bucks, pick any fucking tree, and bring it by my house as soon as the other guys get back.” He chuckled. “I think I have the perfect present to open under it.”

~Happy Holidays~

Setting Up the Love

Who says authors must be competitive with their fellow authors? Jasper's my uncle, and we frequently stroke one another for support. So great is our mutual admiration, we've decided to air it out in public.

We plan to periodically invite some of our erotic fiction author "friends" so one or the other of us can layer them with our adulation. See if they can take it. Might even open it up for them to invite some of their contemporaries to do battle. See which of them can better dispense with the ooey-gooey mush.

It's the dawn of a new age, one of bi-partisan cooperation and respect. Could bring tears. Could bring hugs and copulations. Could inspire new stories. Best of all, we will leave comments from the public wide open. Say what you will, fans of our writing, because once we've coated ourselves with the armor of adoration, what could you possibly say to hurt our feelings?

Jardonn Smith