Best Gay Erotica 2002, page 15
“Some moments passed, and when he was able to breath again and collect his thoughts, Orsino looked down at John Cooper’s smiling face. As Mr. Cooper had promised, the young man was a very talented cocksucker. Indeed, this was the best blowjob the Prince had ever had. But still his heart was heavy: His lasting happiness was not to be found here. He was grateful and thanked young Cooper for his sincere efforts, but regretfully sent him home.
“The entire village was disappointed to see John Cooper return among them. He related his tale, and the villages all agreed that he had given his best blowjob ever. But still the problem remained. Oh, what to do! Many of the villagers stayed up all night trying to think of something that might cause the Prince to smile again.
“The next morning the village miller arrived at the castle with his twin sons and knocked at the portcullis. When the Prince appeared, Mr. Miller presented them.
“ ‘Beloved Prince, these are my sons, good men both. As ye can see, they are finely furred with beautiful asses that they get from working with the milling stones. Please overlook their misfortune of being born twins with identical appearance. Unfortunately, both have fiery red hair from the top of their heads to their very toes, but this does not prevent their having the finest assholes for fucking in the entire village. Sire, accept their willingness to serve you. Enjoy their asses so that the sun might shine again.’
“Prince Orsino was touched by Mr. Miller’s gesture on behalf of the village. It still seemed unlikely that the Miller Twins could lift his heart’s burden, but they did have the most beautifully shaped asses, and a good fuck couldn’t hurt anything, so he welcomed them into the castle.
“The Miller Twins were very eager to please and in no time had removed each other’s clothing and stood naked before the Prince. Orsino admired their firm, round asses, and agreed with Mr. Miller that the fiery-red hair covering every part of their bodies was no detriment. Orsino was about to express his appreciation of their rigidly identical dicks when he found his codpiece removed and the Miller Twins bending over before him, presenting their hairy, hidden treasures for him to plunder.
“Momentarily burdened by feelings of noblesse oblige, the Prince was nevertheless aroused by the inviting sight before him, and his dick grew hard. He slowly pushed it into the asshole of the first twin and enjoyed the warm, firm stimulation as he moved in and out. After a few minutes he turned his attention to the asshole of the second twin and was a bit surprised that the Miller Twins felt as identical on the inside as they looked on the outside.
“While he worked the asshole of one twin with his dick, he worked the asshole of the other with his finger so that they might enjoy the experience equally. As he increased the pace of his fucking, both twins seemed to breath faster and moan louder, all the while pushing their asses to meet his increasingly rapid thrusts. It wasn’t much longer before Orsino felt the irrepressible rising urgency within him, and his explosive climax was met with loud grunts and simultaneous ejaculations from the Miller Twins.
“After he was able to breathe again and collect his thoughts, Orsino looked with melancholy at the red-furred asses of the twins and pulled both men up to face him. As Mr. Miller had promised they were remarkable fucks, undoubtedly the best in the village, despite their being twins. And yet—and yet the Prince’s heart felt empty and cold; he knew that his true and lasting happiness lay elsewhere. He was grateful to the Miller Twins and thanked them for their sincere efforts and then sent them home.”
“I must be the Prince in this story. I’m husky, I’m hairy, and I get to fuck all the men in the village, right?”
“We’ll see about that. Anyway, since the village had high hopes for the Miller Twins, they were doubly disappointed to see the twins return. The twins told their tale, and all agreed that they had given the Prince the best fuck ever, but still it rained. The people were starting to feel desperate for they were running out of ideas to try. They thought, and thought, and thought, and still it rained.
“So it was that three days passed when the Miller Twins arrived at the castle with their father, the miller, and knocked at the portcullis. When the Prince appeared, the Miller Twins presented their father to him.
“ ‘Beloved Prince, this is our father, a loyal servant of yours despite his deviant sexual tastes. Although he is now aged beyond forty years and his beard and hair have mostly turned white, he remains the kinkiest man in the village. Sire, please accept our father’s willingness to serve you. Tie him up, whip him, piss on him, pierce his skin, and perform unspeakable acts with his naked body so that the sun might shine again.’
“Prince Orsino was touched by the Miller Twins’ gesture on behalf of their village, but he was beginning to feel that enough might be enough. He felt certain that Mr. Miller’s total submission wouldn’t do much to lift his own spirits. However, since the silvery hair that seemed to cover Mr. Miller’s entire body aroused his curiosity, he welcomed him into the castle. He called for servants to take Mr. Miller to the dungeon, where they were to chain him naked to its damp, cold stone walls.
“The Prince was about to change into his leathers and fetch his whip when he was suddenly overcome by weariness at the futility of his search for a companion. Although he felt guilty at neglecting his responsibilities, he called again for his servants and instructed them to go to Mr. Miller in the dungeon, to whip him, piss on him, pierce his skin, and perform unspeakable acts upon his hairy, naked body. Meanwhile, the Prince would go for a walk in the enchanted forest and consider his plight.
“The Prince walked and walked, lost in thought, when he encountered a one-armed woodcutter in a clearing, cutting wood. The woodcutter was big and husky with bulging muscles from a lifetime of cutting wood, and like the wild man he was he had long, wild hair and a long, wild beard, and his whole body was covered with hair, and he had an enormous dick.”
“ How could you tell how big his dick was?”
“Because it was an enchanted forest and he was completely naked. So anyway, the woodcutter worked, swinging his axe while his enormous, rock-hard dick and equally enormous balls swung in rhythm. This attracted the attention of the Prince, who stopped to talk. ‘Greetings, naked, hairy woodcutter. How goes your work?’
“The woodcutter paused and leaned on his axe. ‘The wood cutting goes well enough for such a pointless activity, but it never stops raining and my mood is as gloomy as the weather because I can’t give myself a proper handjob with just one arm.’
“The Prince asked how he lost his arm and the woodcutter answered, ‘I once met a creature who asked a riddle I could not answer: What walks on three legs in its youth, four legs in its maturity, and two legs in its old age?’
“After a bit of thought, Orsino agreed that it was, indeed, a difficult riddle, then he turned to walk away. The woodcutter yelled, ‘Halt!’ and raised high his axe. ‘Now that you have heard the riddle, you must answer it or forfeit your head to a deft swing of my axe, unless you’d rather give me a blowjob.’
“The Prince considered his options, first looking at the woodcutter’s enormous axe, then at the woodcutter’s enormous dick. He dropped to his knees, grabbed the hard dick in front of his face, and held it up against the man’s hairy belly so that he might admire the beautiful pair of balls in front of his nose. These he licked and sucked with delight until the woodcutter began to squirm. Unable to subdue his appetite any longer, Orsino began licking and sucking the woodcutter’s dick with frenzied abandon.
“Just then, while Orsino was fully absorbed in his cocksucking, and the woodcutter was distracted by his approaching orgasm, a Knight rode into the clearing on his giant stallion. Sir Butch, for that was his name, wore strange armor that resembled leather chaps, a harness, and a studded leather codpiece. When he recognized the figure of the Prince, he became indignant at the degradation that Orsino had been forced to suffer. In his fury, Sir Butch drew his sword and with one stroke sliced off the woodcutter’s head, just as the woodcutter began to shoot cum all over Orsino’s face.
“Surprised at this development, the Prince looked up at the Knight. ‘Good Knight, I thank you for your assistance in my time of need, but whence your haste? Now I shall never know the answer to the woodcutter’s riddle.’
“The Knight dismounted and bowed before the Prince. ‘Good Prince, I am Sir Butch, of the neighboring realm. I chanced upon your dreadful predicament and, seeing the humiliation you were forced to suffer, I was filled with rage and determined to punish the woodcutter on the spot.’
“Orsino stood back and looked the Knight over with growing interest. Certainly, the leather armor was appealing, and the way that Sir’s chest hair poked out around his harness was provocative. A thought came to mind. ‘Sir Butch, I appreciate your candor and your bravery, and I find your aspect most pleasant to look upon, particularly the chest hair that pokes out around your harness. I, myself, am looking for a mate to share my life. Are you already spoken for?’
“Looking upon the Prince’s big, beautiful brown beard and big, beautiful belly undoubtedly all covered with fur, the Knight wanted to accept, but he couldn’t. ‘Alas, my Prince, it cannot be. I am strictly a Top and, since you are a Prince and therefore could not be a Bottom, we would face a lifetime of frustration.’
“The look of confusion on Orsino’s face masked his deep disappointment. ‘I do not see any obstacle. Pray, Sir, what is this Top and Bottom you speak of?’
“Sir Butch was startled by this deficit in the Prince’s knowledge. ‘When I make love with the man of my choice, I put my dick into his mouth for him to suck and into his asshole for me to fuck. I am the Top, and he is the Bottom.’
“The Prince reflected on the Knight’s words, and saw a glimmer of hope. He explained to Sir that although he was forced to suck the woodcutter’s cock, he had rather enjoyed it, only he didn’t smile because he feared for his life. He went on to suggest that the thought of being fucked by Sir Butch was starting to arouse him.
“Sir Butch gracefully accepted Prince Orsino’s invitation. They searched until they found a dry spot under a tree, where Sir lovingly removed the Prince’s clothing and admired his big, beautiful belly, which was indeed covered with fur. They fell into each other’s arms and kissed with an intensity that neither had ever known.
“After some time Orsino removed Sir’s studded codpiece and felt a great happiness at the sight, which he expressed by drawing Sir’s dick completely into his mouth and swallowing it, to the evident delight of the Knight. The Prince continued his own enjoyment until he noticed that Sir was perilously close to climax.
“Orsino looked into Butch’s eyes and the Knight understood that the time had come to fuck the Prince. Being a very tender lover, Sir Butch laid him back onto the ground, wet his fingers, and inserted first one, then two fingers into Orsino’s willing but tight asshole. For more than an hour he loosened the Prince, whose moans grew louder and whose cock grew harder with each thrust.
“When he judged that the time was right, Sir Butch withdrew his fingers and inserted his dick into the Prince’s receptive asshole. To the tune of Orsino’s ever-louder cries of delight and encouragement, Sir’s initially measured thrusts gave way to their mounting passion. Time stopped until Sir noticed that he was again approaching his climax. Sir moved his face down to kiss the Prince and, just as he came in great waves inside the Prince, Orsino himself experienced an orgasm unlike any he had ever experienced.
“As they lay heaving for breath with bodies entwined, Prince Orsino felt an unknown lightness in his soul and contentment in his heart, and he smiled with overwhelming joy to realize his destiny as a Bottom with Sir Butch his Top. Noticing that the rain suddenly stopped, he looked up and saw the sun break through the clouds.
“Prince Orsino took Sir Butch’s hand and they walked back to the castle, slowed in their progress by frequent stops for kissing. As the sun was beginning to set, they emerged from the enchanted forest and were greeted by the people of the village, dancing and cheering and throwing paperwork into the air.
“Acknowledging his faithful people, Prince Orsino waved and smiled his beautiful smile, then introduced Sir Butch, his new mate. As the cheering resumed, the Prince led his Knight to the castle where they lived together and came happily ever after.”
“Wait a minute! What was the answer to the riddle? And are you saying that the Prince was really a Bottom all the time?”
“Roll over, my Prince, and let’s start finding out.”
What A Muse Looks Like
Shaun Levin
I see my beloved in the body of Christ: catching the blood that drips from his open palms; licking the flesh from around the stakes in his feet; adoring his arms stretched out like wings, the sweet wisps of hair in his armpit, like one ostrich feather. And all in the perfect Florentine landscape. Wherever I look as I wander through the National Gallery, my love is there; every immaculate body is his. Seduced by Caravaggio to pose naked with grapes, watched over in his sleep by Botticelli to be transformed into Mars. He is sleek, muscular, baby-faced perfection. With his body close to mine, I rejoice in myself.
Today he brought bagels, and I offered him carrot and coriander soup (the cookies were cooling in the oven, the house filled with the smells of melting sugar and vanilla essence). My beloved is a cat; I know he’ll stay with the one who feeds him the most. I am not his only love, you see; he is a hungry and confused man, devoted to many. It’s autumn again and I have gone back to soups: Tuscan bean; celery, sweet corn, and red peppers; tomato, bread, and basil.
“Am I allowed seconds?” he says, lifting his eyes from the bowl to smile at me.
“More?” I say.
“This soup is so good,” he says. “You are such a good cook.”
Let me kneel now, give thanks for kind words. Let me show you my gratitude as you bend over to offer yourself to me. After lunch we return to our island, our center, our magnet, my futon in the middle of the bedroom, and my love lies on his back and purrs while I slide in and out of him, his muscles loosening until there is nothing there but devotion. This is my labor of love. My consolation. My calling. I am here to feed and fuck my beloved. We stare at each other, our eyes wide open, not speaking, the words hovering beyond the confines of passion where anger and history lurk.
“Say my name,” he says.
“Why?” I say.
“Say it,” he says. “I want to hear you say my name.”
“Sweetheart,” I say, stroking his thighs, his knees resting on my shoulders.
“My real name,” he says, his open palms on the sides of my face, to make me notice, to make me stop.
“Martin,” I say.
“Keep saying it,” he says. “You live in a fantasy world. You’re a dreamer. Say my name.”
My love is right. I have too much time on my hands, too many hours in the day to plan my next move, our next conversation, his farewell speech. I need something to keep from loving him constantly; I need a break from all this. My love for him is a full-time job. It’s how I fill the days of the week when he’s with her. And with another him, for all I know. So then, if I fuck him harder, I tell myself, slowly building up speed again, and get deeper inside him, will he no longer be able to extract me from his body?
“It’s starting to hurt,” he says.
“Is that good or bad?” I say.
“I don’t know,” he says, laughing, the lines that radiate from the corners of his eyes curving down to meet those arching up from his mouth, his face bracketed by its own grooves. This is where time manifests itself on his body, and in the tough dark hairs in his ears; except for that, his body is self-made and baby smooth, formed by hours at the gym, molded into porcelain.
“I love feeling you inside me,” he says.
“I love being inside you,” I say. “I want to stay there always.”
I’m going soft, but I stay there, my sweat dripping onto his chest, the beads rolling off his skin and onto the sheet. Nothing clings to my love.
“That feels so good,” he says.
“Tell me I’m beautiful,” I say.
“Why?” he says.
“Tell me,” I say. “Tell me I’m beautiful.”
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says. “You’re beautiful. You are.”
“Again,” I say, getting harder.
“You’re beautiful,” he says.
On the day we met, after we’d made love for six hours, I thought: So this is what a muse looks like. This is who Picasso relied on to keep painting. This is what Gertrude saw in Alice, what Lewis Carroll saw in his colleague’s little daughter. I rely on every type of beauty to keep writing: the beauty of trees and rocks, mud and long walks through forests, kneeling by a stream to wash my face in icy water. I need to get close to creation to create. My love is creation; he is the chaos made perfect.
“Don’t come yet,” he says.
“I’m not,” I say.
“Your eyes were glazing over,” he says. “Tell me something.”
“Like what?” I say, backing out of him, his arse grabbing at me just before I leave.
“Anything,” he says, lifting his feet off my shoulders and easing them onto the bed.
My love draws me toward him, to lie on his chest, our lips brushing together.
“Please,” I say. “No words yet.”
“You never tell me things about yourself,” he says.
“Should I get us some cookies from the oven?” I say, kissing his lips.
“Is that all you’re going to say?” he says.
“I’ll get us tea and cookies,” I say. “And then I’ll tell you things.”
In the kitchen, naked, the oven’s left-over heat warm against my chest, then on my back, as I turn to set the baking tray down on the table, I wonder if it will ever be possible to give myself to him. To open up and be known. My beloved is right; I don’t like talking about myself. I don’t trust words, especially spoken ones, especially my own; they’re a mask and a deceit. I prefer all interpretations of me to be based on what I do. If he looked closely at my actions, at the things I did while he’s with her, if he could only imagine what it’s like to be here while he’s there, he’d know so much about me he’d want to be sick.
