Cleis Press is doing an ebook sale, and two books that contain my erotica are on sale for $1.99 in ebook form, on Amazon:
I Like to Watch is a collection of voyeuristic gay smut. It contains “Compersion”, a sweet sadistic ride from the POV of a Daddy who’s boy is showing off for him by bottoming to two sadists.
Here is an excerpt, from the beginning of the story. (As a heads up, it describes play that involves blades, voyeurism, rough body play, and objectification.)
He calls it showing off for Daddy. He likes to show off for me. It gives him the opportunity to make me proud and get me off, all at once. He picks tops that are wired like me, to get off on tears, fear, control, and pain. Because he loves to play that way, but also, particularly, because he knows that will give me a good show. He knows that watching him cry as he gets fucked is sure to make me cum.
He had a special treat for me that night, had been putting it together for weeks. He set up my favorite chair, my Daddy chair, so that I could see everything. He had even thoughtfully provided a footstool, toilet, and cumrag in the form of Sam, a boy who I had been hot for ever since I met him three years ago. Sam was in service to a couple, Marcus and Franklin, who always topped together. Abe had been lusting after them for as long as I had been eyeing Sam. He could not hide his cat-got-the-cream grin as he showed them around. He wore his eagerness openly, and I wondered if they were thinking what I would be thinking—about slapping it off his face. I settled into my chair, ordered Sam into position, and put my boots up, resting them on his bare back. It was going to be a good night, I could feel it.
They cornered him against the wall, knives in hand, speaking softly to him. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but his eyes got wider and he had stopped breathing. He was scared, I could tell from across the room, and just watching the fear on his face made my dick hard. Marcus had a gloved hand on Abe’s throat, a knife against his cheek, holding him still against the wall, as Franklin swiftly shredded his clothes from his body.
He was trying so hard to be perfectly still, but I could see him trembling slightly. Franklin’s knife toyed with his cock, as Marcus murmured something that made him wince and close his eyes. The moment seemed to last a very long time, that thick, long, shiny blade caressing his dick. He began to breathe rapidly, his fists clenching as he fought to stay still. It was delicious.
They yanked him away from the wall and stood him between them. He was staring into Franklin’s eyes when Marcus punched him on his back. Franklin responded by punching his pecs, and they worked a call and response rhythm together on his body, building it, until it was so fast he had no time to process it. He was struggling, shaking his head, and stomping, trying to take it, but I knew it was too much too fast and he didn’t know how. That was the point, to throw him off, not let him find his footing, and I could see it getting to him.
Franklin spun him around, and began pounding into his back with his fists, as Marcus removed his gloves to put others on. I knew what these must be—SAP gloves. So did Abe, because he growled, as Marcus began to punch his chest. I could see him struggle with it, watched it blossom on his face. He couldn’t stop them, was overwhelmed and off kilter and he always cries when you punch his chest—it’s like a release valve, and this time I got to watch it happening, and savor each moment.
It was glorious, to sit back and watch him struggle against tears, until he released them. It made my cock throb. When I saw Marcus continue to pound his chest with punches while he cried, grinning all the while, saw Abe register that it wasn’t going to stop, and he really could let go, my heart filled up with love for him. My boy was beautiful when he cried.
Leathermen is a collection of gay kinky porn. It contains my story “Willing”, where a jaded vampire meets that ever elusive prize: a willing boy who can really take it. ‘Nathan Burgoine has described this story as: “brutally brilliant, a mix of sex, BDSM, and boundary pushing that leaves the reader breathless and unsure of the possibility of a positive outcome. ‘Willing’ deliciously defies expectations.”
I’ve discussed this story on this site before, sharing an excerpt from the beginning of the story. Here is a different excerpt from “Willing”, from later in the tale when the vampire top begins to really go after what he wants. (As a heads up, it describes play that involves sadistic desire, blood, rough body play, and pain play.)
I want my claws on his chest, now. I want to rip him open, expose him to my gaze, my teeth, my hunger. I want his blood on every tool in my possession. Now. I want to feast on him. I can feel the beast roll through my body.
Not yet. I want more pain to draw it out. I want to see if it’s true. I want to know he can take my worst and still want more. I want to see his strength. That is worth delaying my feed. And postponing it will only make it sweeter.
I breathe deeply, focusing my senses as I walk slowly in front of him, inspecting him from every angle. He straightens his posture, easing into a position he can hold. I move close, and grip his shirt, tearing it swiftly from his chest and tossing it onto the floor. That’s what I want first. I throw my shoulder into the body slam, and feel the electricity of our skins’ contact. I trace my fingertips along the horizontal scars on his chest, and then grip his nipples, twisting. I am so close, I cannot resist sinking my teeth in and teasing myself. I bite deeply, barely avoiding breaking skin. Building connection. Making my cock throb. Drawing out my beast. I lift up and bite down, feeling his body shift with the pain, laying my mark on him. I claim him like this, first. Begin how you wish to proceed. With fear and pain and teeth and sex all rolled together. I can feel the blood pulsing just at the surface, calling me. I bite down hard and thrust my cock against him. My low growl mixes with the slow soft moan that escapes his lips. I lift my head to meet his eyes, and see that he has begun to fly.
I step back and begin my dance around him. Heaving my fist into his chest. My boot into his thigh. My open hand slamming down onto his pecs. I move rapidly, layering and shifting, gliding around him. Thrusting pain into him in unpredictable gusts of movement. Upping the ante. Ramming my boot into his cock, grinding the heel in and watching his eyes. He is twirling high in the air, lips parted, offering himself to me. His eyes entreat me to use him. And I do, exercising minute control, I coil into him, watching as he floats. This is just the beginning. I constrict his breath, cover his mouth and nose and thrust my teeth into his shoulder, feeling his heart against my tongue.