Boys In Heat, page 17
Anyway, we all loaded into Justin’s Tercel, me in the back, and Rob riding shotgun, where he kept one hand on the back of Justin’s head the whole way to the Best Western.
“Come on in, Justin,” Rob said when we got there. “You can drive us to dinner after we check in.”
He smirked at me, as Justin said, “Oh, okay,” with a lost look on his bunny face.
Once we’d checked in and gotten the key, Rob threw his backpack across the room as we walked in; it landed on the bed nearest the bathroom. Almost in the same motion he pulled his shirt over his head and then kicked his shoes off. With his back to us he dropped his pants and bared his pale muscly ass. Justin’s eyes bulged, and I threw myself on the other bed and turned on the TV as Rob walked into the bathroom and shut the door.
“He’s nice, huh?” Justin said.
“No, actually he’s not. Not at all.”
Rob turned on the shower and immediately started singing “Old Soul Song for the New World Order,” wailing out “They go wiiiiild, they go wiiild…”
Justin kept talking, telling me about the girl in the Wal-Mart parking lot whose name was Stephanie and something else stupid and boring. He was in the middle of telling me a story I wasn’t listening to about his sister who had just had a kid named Kyle, when Rob walked naked into the room and snapped, “Shut up, Forrest, and get over here and suck my cock.”
Well, little Justin jumped off that bed like someone had shot him and stared at Rob, who had his fist wrapped around his dick, which was growing fast and starting to look a really pissed-off red.
“What?” Justin blurted.
“Suck it. Just fucking suck it you stupid little hick, you know you want to.”
“I do not,” Justin squawked. “I never said that.”
Rob walked over to him, got up close, put a hand on the back of Justin’s head, and kissed him, hard. The kind of kissing Justin dreamed about. Rob pulled away, and smiled at him. Justin smiled back.
“Now. Suck. My. Cock.”
Even though he tried to act all Sunday School you could tell he’d done it before because he dropped to his knees and swallowed Rob’s prick down to the hairy root without so much as blinking.
Rob clamped one hand on the back of Justin’s blond head and rode his face hard, steering him and pushing him while Justin scrambled around like a crab running backward until Rob had him backed up against the bed. With one foot on the floor and one on the bed, Rob pounded Justin’s throat, filling the room with slurping and moaning and the sound of Rob saying, “Yeah, take it you little bitch.”
I kicked back in the chair and put my feet up on the useless Formica table that was sitting there for no good reason, and watched.
Rob grabbed Justin by the arms and yanked him to his feet. He pulled the kid’s shirt off and went to work on his pants. His stiff prick bounced around crazily as soon as it broke free of his underwear. Rob grabbed it, and jacked it a few times. Justin let out a surprised grunt and then a little whimpering yell and fired off all over Rob’s thighs.
I laughed.
Rob kept jacking him until his knees went out and he fell backward onto the bed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go so fast,” Justin said.
“Clean it up,” Rob said, standing there, legs apart, Justin-spooge trickling down his thighs.
Justin looked around for a towel or something, but Rob grabbed the back of his head, and said, “With your tongue, fuck nuts.”
Rob looked over at me, his dick poking out, red and angry, and winked.
“Go kiss Josh,” he said to Justin.
Justin looked at me from down below Rob’s balls.
Rob pushed him toward me, and he crawled across the carpet, and knelt next to me. I leaned down and kissed him, tasted the cum on his lips, forced my tongue into his mouth, and ran one hand over his smooth chest.
“Take his clothes off,” Rob said. He was sitting on the bed watching us.
Justin’s hands were shaking, as he untied my shoes, slipped my T-shirt over my head, pulled my jeans off. My dick lay against my stomach, half-hard, almost interested.
Justin looked at it, reached for it, but I pushed his hand away.
Rob looked at me and smiled.
“Bring him here,” he said, and I stood, and lifted Justin in my arms, carried him to the bed. I sat, Justin in my lap, and played with his sticky pecker while Rob rooted around for a condom. Justin started getting hard, and I kissed him. Rob tossed me a bottle of lube, and I opened Justin up and got him wet and ready. I was starting to get hard.
I pulled him into my arms, his back to my chest, and I pulled his legs up and back around my ears. He looked up at me, and I winked at him, just as Rob drove himself all the way into the kid with one stroke.
Justin went stiff as a board and then cut loose with a scream they must have heard all the way back at the Wal-Mart. Rob laughed and pulled out and slammed back in and then started fucking Justin like he was trying to saw him in half.
I watched Justin’s face and almost felt sorry for him and mad and jealous at the same time. I held him and played with his nipples, and kissed him and rubbed my cock into his back, and jacked him the rest of the way hard while Rob huffed and snorted and pounded away above him. After a few minutes Justin started moaning and then got louder and louder until he was screaming “Oh my god fuck me,” and clawing at Rob’s shoulders.
“You like that huh?” Rob said, leaning into him, looking at me, fire in his eyes. I felt Justin shudder as Rob drove even farther into his guts, and I could feel it, how it hurt like hell at first, and then paid off with the kind of eye-rolling, can’t breathe or talk or move prostate-battering that feels so fucking good you know you’re getting closer to God. It was always better this way, with Rob. Not that he knew it. Or would have cared.
Justin thrashed around, wild-eyed and sweaty in my arms, while Rob pounded his compact butt into complete surrender, and then finally pulled out and straddled Justin’s chest.
“Open your mouth, baby,” he said, and Justin did as he was told.
Rob grunted once and then a jet of cum shot out of the flared red-purple head of his cock and hit Justin on the cheek. Then another shot over him and landed on me, and then Rob slammed himself into Justin’s mouth and dumped the rest of his load down his throat, while I stroked harder on Justin’s boner, which was twitching and dripping and ready to fire. He moaned wetly from around Rob’s spurting dick, and bucked his hips up, made strange wild noises as his second load iced my fingers and dripped onto his belly.
Rob rolled off Justin’s face and collapsed on the bed next to him. I slid up onto the other side of him, wrapped my arms around him, and kissed him a little while he came down. I didn’t cum. I never did. It would have been more than I needed.
Rob rolled over onto his side facing Justin and reached down and gave his wet pecker a little tug.
“Did you like that, kid?” he asked, perfunctorily nice now that his nuts had been emptied.
Justin nodded and tried to kiss Rob, but Rob pulled away, and looked across the boy’s body at me.
“That’s sweet, Justin,” he said, “but Josh is hungry. Where are you taking us to dinner?”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
DALLAS ANGGUISH is an Australian writer whose stories and prose have appeared in the anthologies Dumped, Bend, Don’t Shatter and Between the Palms 2 as well as in the online journals Retort Magazine and Lodestar Quarterly. His full-length book of travel stories and memoir, Anywhere but Here, was published by Showpony Press in February 2006. He lives with his partner and two naughty cats in a small rural town in the eastern state of New South Wales.
JONATHAN ASCHE says: “I know it’s more marketable to label my stories as ‘erotica,’ but I’m more comfortable thinking of them as pornography, albeit good pornography.” His short stories, be they erotica or porn, have appeared in Playguy, Inches, Torso, Honcho, Men and In Touch for Men, and have been featured in the anthologies Friction 3, Three the Hard Way, Manhandled, Buttmen 2 and 3, Best Gay Erotica 2004 and 2005 and Hot Gay Erotica. He is also the author of the erotic novels Mindjacker and Moneyshots. Asche lives in Atlanta with his husband, Tomé, and their neurotic pets.
MICHAEL CAIN is thirty-five. He lives where he grew up, in northeast Ohio, at the foothills near the panhandle of West Virginia. He counts money until his fingers bleed at a gaming resort, and lives with his dog, Jack. His stories have been published on the webzines Lucrezia Magazine, The Green Muse, Wild Violet Magazine, Anotherealm, Astoundingtales, Afterburn SF, Demon Minds, Bent, Lunatic Chameleon, Justus Roux, Logical Lust, Ruthie’s Club and Forbidden Fruit Magazine; and they have been included in the erotic anthologies Just the Sex, My First Time 3, Treasure Trail, Ultimate Gay Erotica 2008 and Justus Roux’s Erotic Tales 2. He has stories in print in Sofa Ink Quarterly, First Hand LTD, Writer’s Post Journal, Mandate, Playguy, Torso, Men Magazine and Adventures for the Average Woman.
DALE CHASE has been happily writing male erotica for a decade, with more than one hundred stories published in various magazines and anthologies, including translation into German and Italian. Her single nonerotic effort was published in the Harrington Gay Men’s Fiction Quarterly. Chase is currently working on a collection of ghostly male erotica as well as an erotic western novel. She is a California native and lives near San Francisco.
KAL COBALT cowrites a food blog and has written about sex amongst foodies before (in Country Boys), but has yet to stumble upon a hot chef in a dark alley. Other K.C. erotica can be found in Best Fantastic Erotica and Best Gay Romance 2008. Online, find Kal in Velvet Mafia, Clean Sheets and Fishnet. Kal’s Circlet.com essay, “10 Things You Always Wanted to Know about Robot Sex,” was recently featured on Susie Bright’s blog. Kal is a news writer and feature author for Reality Sandwich (about consciousness, not food). Learn more or contact K.C. at kalcobalt.com.
TED CORNWELL is a poet, fiction writer and journalist who grew up in Minnesota and has lived in New York for the past decade. His fiction has appeared in Dorm Porn and Best Gay Love Stories 2006: New York City and his poetry has appeared in the queer journal modern words.
THOMAS FUCHS has spent much of his career writing television documentaries and some print nonfiction. Over the past few years, he has turned to writing fiction. He lives in West Hollywood and can be reached at fuchsfoxxx@cs.com.
DREW GUMMERSON was born in 1971 and lives in Leicester, England. In 2003, his debut novel, The Lodger, was a Lambda Literary Award finalist. His latest novel, Me and Mickie James, will be published by Jonathan Cape in Summer 2008. Visit him at www.drewgummerson.co.uk.
ARDEN HILL is an all-around queer with an MFA in creative writing from Hollins University. His primary partner and genre is poetry, though he enjoys encounters with erotica, creative nonfiction and the critical essay. He is a poetry editor for Breath and Shadow, an online journal of disability culture and literature. His erotica has appeared in Best Gay Erotica 2008, and his first book of poetry is forthcoming from Side Show Press.
PHILLIP MACKENZIE, JR. is a slacker in a postslacker world, eking out a living as a freelance writer from his tumbling down house on the east side of L.A. He has broken down in Burlington, North Carolina, but that’s as far as the similarities to his story go.
SYD MCGINLEY is an expat Brit living in Ohio and corrupting young minds at a state university. Syd’s work appeared in Hot Gay Erotica. Visit www.sydmcginley.com for more queer erotica.
KEITH PECK, a fanatically loyal servant to the evil Lord Xenu (or Xemu), is currently held captive, and called No. 6, by the rabid were-hillbillies of eastern Tennessee. He seeks escape. Sometimes he is an IPv4 packet, roaming the Internet, noncorporeal. Other times he lies on a cot in his cell, dreaming of Bondi and thinking of Adrian. But Rover, it seems, never sleeps.
CHRISTOPHER SCHMIDT’s poetry and essays can be found in recent issues of Tin House, Court Green, Canadian Poetry and BUTT magazine. His first book of poems, The Next in Line, won the Slope Editions Book Prize, selected by Timothy Liu. He writes a blog at http://www.thenextinline.com.
J. M. SNYDER writes gay erotic/romantic fiction. Originally self-published, Snyder now works with e-publishers Amber Quill, Aspen Mountain and Torquere Presses. Snyder’s short gay fiction has been published online at Ruthie’s Club, Tit-Elation and Amazon Shorts, as well as in anthologies published by Cleis Press and Alyson Books. A full bibliography, as well as free stories, excerpts, purchasing info and contests, can be found on the author’s website at http://jmsnyder.net.
ANDREW WARBURTON is a PhD student specializing in literary theory. Until recently he worked as a copywriter, research assistant, and reporter in London, but has moved to the United States to continue his studies. His short stories have appeared in Best Gay Bondage Erotica and Hustlers: Erotic Stories of Sex for Hire, and his poetry has appeared in the queer literary journal Chroma.
CLARENCE WONG writes fiction depicting culture collisions: gay men navigating in a straight world, Asian immigrants transplanted to a Western society. His work has been published in the Harrington Gay Men’s Fiction Quarterly and Silver Kris, the in-flight magazine of Singapore Airlines. A graduate of Princeton and Stanford universities, he believes in the transformative power of a good story. He lives in San Francisco.
ABOUT THE EDITOR
RICHARD LABONTÉ has edited the Best Gay Erotica series since 1997. He writes the occasional newsletter, Books to Watch Out For, and the fortnightly book review column, “Book Marks,” distributed by Q Syndicate. With Lawrence Schimel, he is coeditor of The Future is Queer and First Person Queer, for Arsenal Pulp Press. He has edited Hot Gay Erotica, Country Boys, Best Gay Romance 2008 and Where the Boys Are for Cleis Press, where he is also an editor at large. He lives mostly on Bowen Island, British Columbia, a stone’s throw from the Pacific Ocean, and sometimes on a farm in rural eastern Ontario, surrounded by two hundred acres of hay.
Copyright 2008 by Richard Labonté.
All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or online reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Published in the United States.
Cleis Press Inc., P.O. Box 14697, San Francisco, California 94114
eISBN : 978-1-573-44458-3
“Duffle” © 2008 by Dallas Angguish. “Miss Vel’s Place” © 2008 by Jonathan Asche. “Burning the Midnight Oil” © 2008 by Michael Cain. “Fluid Mechanics” © 2008 by Dale Chase. “A Recipe For…” © 2008 by Kal Cobalt. “The Key-Maker’s Wife” © 2008 by Ted Cornwell. “Talking to Mr. Mack” © 2008 by Thomas Fuchs. “Intimacy” © 2008 by Drew Gummerson. “Telling a Switch’s Story” © 2008 by Arden Hill. “Burlington” © 2008 by Phillip Mackenzie, Jr. “Unmasked” © 2008 by Syd McGinley. “Cockfighting” © 2008 by Keith Peck. “Three Scenes” © 2008 by Christopher Schmidt. “Hooking Up” © 2006 by J. M. Snyder, reprinted with permission from Shorts (Lulu Press, 2006). “The Manor” © 2008 by Andrew Warburton. “Orbs” © 2008 by Clarence Wong.
Richard Labonte, Boys In Heat
