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Handed On

by Habu


“I really do worry about you. When did you eat last?”

“Please, please, don’t stop,” Marc whimpered between pants. “Finish me, please. Don’t make me wait.”

“Now you want it,” the dance master laughed. “We’ll see how badly you want it.”

The two young men were lying on a pile of old costumes in the dark corner of the back of the stage behind the wings. The dance master, Patrick Moran, only a couple of years older than Marc, was mostly on his back, although listing to the left, and underneath. Marc was stretched out on top of his body, Patrick’s cock up his ass, and Patrick grasping Marc’s cock. Patrick held the back of Marc’s head so that their faces were close together, the eyes of each staring into those of the other. He said he wanted to watch the expression in Marc’s face as he was being fucked, even though the dimness of the light in the back corner of the stage made this difficult.

Patrick’s tights were rolled down to his knees, keeping his legs close together. Marc’s tights had been stripped off him as, overtaken by lust in their practice on the darkened stage, Patrick had lifted and carried Marc into the shadows, and the tights were now laying to the side of the pile of clothes, legs suggestively spread as wide as Marc’s were to accommodate the cock inside him. Very theatrical, Patrick thought. And he laughed. It was working out well, and right on schedule.

“You weren’t so eager for the fuck two weeks ago. It was murder seducing you.” Patrick was holding Marc’s cock but had stopped stroking it, holding it steady despite Marc’s efforts to move his hips in rhythm against it. Similarly, Patrick’s cock was buried, but he wasn’t stroking with it.

“Please, please fuck me,” Marc plaintively moaned. “Finish me. Please.”

It indeed had been quite a campaign to get Marc into the male dancer’s ensemble of the recently founded Metropolitan Opera, established in 1883 and now only in its third season—and third production.

Patrick had been on the prowl with the impresario chosen for that season’s production of Gounod’s Faust, John McManus, when they had come across Marc doing acrobatics in a Vaudeville skit and showing grace of movement and flexibility that made him stand out on stage and assure Patrick that the handsome young man had received classical training. The production of Faust required a team of male acrobat dancers, and Patrick’s team was lacking a man who could perform as well as they found Marc doing in an inferior skit.

Patrick would have worked to recruit Marc just for the needs of the troupe and didn’t think he’d have any trouble doing that—why would any male classically trained in ballet, as this young man obviously was, not want to work in ballet and opera rather than Vaudeville? But John McManus had thickened the brew. McManus, who had brought Patrick in as the dance master for his Met production as much because Patrick was his procurer as for Patrick’s unquestioned dance talent, had declared, wetting his lips and slitting his eyes as he watched Marc glide across the stage, that he wanted to fuck Marc too—and not just once. And not just by himself. John McManus had a fetish, one that he wasn’t able to feed nearly as much as he wanted to.

As Patrick worked at seducing Marc to his sexual charms—seducing him to come to work at the Met was, as he figured, no problem—he decided that Marc had been fucked before but that, quite possibly he’d been in a relationship that had gone bad and was skittish about involving himself in another.

It was only after Patrick had first successfully spiked Marc—on this same pile of costumes after Marc’s addition for the Met troupe, when he was euphoric over being able to find a classical dance job in New York—that Marc told him that he had been brought to New York by a rich, older man, who had abandoned him here after a couple of months, with no safety net, and gone back to his wife and children. Marc had convinced himself that the man would take care of him forever—financially as well as sexually—and he’d been hit very hard by reality. He’d had a rough time picking himself up and getting enough work to barely live on in New York. He’d planned on going back to western Pennsylvania but hadn’t saved enough for the fare yet.

Thus, Marc was happy to have sex with another young man like Patrick just for the enjoyment of it. But he was skittish of becoming mixed up with an older man again. This presented a problem for Patrick in conditioning and handing him over to John McManus, but Patrick was up to the challenge.

Patrick had held Marc close and kissed him. And he’d assured the younger man that someone would take care of him now. And then he’d turned Marc on his belly and fucked him again. He didn’t tell Marc that it would be John McManus who would take care of him and he was already calculating how little to pay Marc to keep him on the edge of starvation and prepare him for willingly going with the impresario.

“Tell me, was this man of yours—the one who brought you to New York—a big man?”

“A bit heavy, yes, and tall,” Marc had answered.

“That’s not what I meant by big,” Patrick said.

“I don’t . . . oh, you mean his staff?”

“Yes. His dick, his cock, Marc. We must loosen you up, take any guilt in this away from you. His cock. Thick? Very thick?”

“Umm. Very thick, I guess.”

“Thicker than mine?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes. Tell me.”

“Please, Patrick. Give it to me. Stroke me. Make me come. Don’t hold me off any longer.”

“Tell me, for true, and I’ll give it to you again. You won’t get the cock until you tell me.”

“Yes, then. Yes, he was thicker than you. But you’re—”

“Good. Good that you’ve had it thick,” Patrick had said and then he embraced Marc close and began stroking hard inside him.

Through the moans and groans of Patrick’s fucking, Marc had been confused. Why had he asked that? Patrick wasn’t all that thick, but Marc hadn’t mentioned it; hadn’t complained.

Patrick’s reason for asking that started to become apparent weeks later, when Marc found himself being fucked again as an extension of his one-on-one practice session in preparing for the soon-to-open Faust production. They once more were on the pile of costumes in the back corner of the stage area. And once more Patrick was fucking Marc. One difference between this time and when he’d done it to cap Marc’s successful audition with the Met troupe, was that this time Marc had begged for the fuck. This was the second time, Marc had begged for it—and had whined for it to continue when Patrick had put it into suspension.

Another difference this time was that more than just Patrick’s cock was inside him. Patrick had three fingers running down the sides of his cock inside Marc too, and, as Mark huffed and puffed, was stretching the channel wider than needed just by his cock.

This was also the time that Patrick had told the impresario, John McManus, the scheme they had concocted could proceed. That Marc was ready, in more ways than just emotionally.

“And what is this we have here?” McManus said gruffly from the edge of the light on the stage. Patrick had told him to come no farther—to be enough in the light for Marc to instantly recognize who had “caught” them fucking.

“Mr. McManus!” Patrick called out, and he rolled over on top of Marc as if he intended to hide Marc’s identity.

“Patrick? And is that young Marc you are fucking?”

McManus said no more; he just stood there in the light under the stage light after he’d uttered that expression. By design then, he turned and jumped off the stage and marched up the aisle to the theater lobby.

“Oh, god, we’re undone,” Marc wailed. “We’ll lose our jobs. I’ll lose my job.”

“There, there, little one,” Patrick said, embracing Marc, smoothing out his blond curls, and kissing his teary cheeks. “I think it will be OK.”

“OK? How could it be OK?” Marc answered through snuffles.

“I think it could work out because Mr. McManus likes young men, small, lithe, flexible men—in the same way I do—and I’ve heard him admire you.”

“Admire me?” Marc asked.

“Yes,” Patrick answered, the exasperation clear in his voice. “McManus fucks young men. I’m sure he’d fuck you given the chance. If you are willing to cultivate his attraction to you, I think we might manage this. You wouldn’t lose your job here. Neither would I. If you aren’t willing for yourself to make the sacrifice and to try to get him to want you and to keep you in the production, could you consider doing it for me? I would have almost as much trouble finding another position this good as you would—and the sacrifice would be for everyone in the production. Faust is too close to opening to replace us.”

Marc sniffled, but didn’t answer. Patrick thought perhaps that he was resisting the proposal in his mind, but Marc was actually thinking about McManus and assuring himself that the man had his attractions. He was big and gruff—a bit on the heavy side—but he was a handsome and commanding man. And he obviously was rich and important in Marc’s chosen world. Marc had already thought about being fucked by the impresario. He looked on all well-heeled middle-aged men in a “what if?” way since he’d let one bring him to New York.

“You mean if I get him to fuck me,” Marc said.

“Right. I think he already wants to fuck you, and I fuck you, so we both know you’ll let a man do it. Do it for him and you’ll solve a lot of problems. If you could get the man to want you, it might even be better for your life,” Patrick said. “You said an older man brought you to New York and said he’d keep you. I’ll bet if you work hard to please Mr. McManus, he might set you up somewhere too and improve your life’s lot. Young men like you and I have to make our opportunities where we can. What do you say?”

Marc couldn’t say much of anything at the moment, because Patrick had been working his body back up to a need. Patrick took the sighing and moaning—and lack of an objection—as victory. As well he should. To seal the deal, he turned Marc on his stomach and fucked him again.

An hour later, Marc was in the back of McManus’s closed carriage riding out of the city toward Long Island, where McManus said he had a country house. Patrick had cajoled Marc to go with him to the front of the theater to find McManus in the theater’s offices so that they could both beg to keep their jobs.

Without telling them what he’d had in mind, McManus granted them the opportunity to talk more to him about it, but he said that he was late for driving to his home. He gruffly told them to ride in his carriage with him. Chastened and Marc visibly worried, the two young men climbed into the back of the carriage with him. There were facing seats in the carriage and Patrick went to the one behind the driver, facing the rear, while McManus and Marc sat on the forward-facing seat.

With Patrick’s help, Marc threw himself on the mercy of the glowering impresario and did what he could to make McManus know that he was available to him.

As the carriage rolled out onto Long Island and out of the city, McManus fucked Marc, with Marc sitting on his cock in his lap and facing him. McManus’s cock was thick, but not overly so. But, when McManus put his hands under Marc’s thighs and lifted and spread them and rolled them up and, upon McManus’s command, Patrick crouched behind and started to work his own cock in on top of McManus’s, Marc suddenly could understand why Patrick might have asked him about how thick a cock he’d taken from his previous patron. It wasn’t being able to handle the thickness of one cock that was in question—it was the ability to take two at the same time.

“Patrick!” Marc declared as the dance master’s bulb breached his hole.

“Shush,” Patrick whispered in his ear. “This is what he likes best. This will assure the success of our plan. You can take both. Just relax and breathe. Breathe and relax.”

Thus revealed was John McManus’s special fetish that he had such difficulty fulfilling and that he had enlisted Patrick to serve.

Marc had started to make a ruckus of being violated as he panted and wailed at Patrick’s grunting efforts to enter him on top of where the older man already was buried deep in his channel, but passersby didn’t hear or care and neither did McManus’s driver. The carriage never wavered in its journey and, four inches sheathed along with McManus, Patrick leaned into Marc’s ear with his mouth and whispered, “There, it is done; the rest you can handle well enough,” and begged Marc to think of their need to keep their jobs—not just for Marc or even Mark and Patrick but for the entire production. McManus had it in his power to dismiss them both immediately.

And it had been McManus who had barked for Patrick to join in the fuck. It hadn’t been any more Patrick’s idea, as far as Marc knew, than it was his. They were both just trying to save their jobs. It had been McManus who had demanded this.

By this time, they were both in to the root and Marc realized that he could handle them both—even when the two, grunting and groaning above his moans and whimpers, settled into a rhythmic counterpistoning. It was dark in the cab, and if Marc relaxed and stopped tensing up and flopping about between them, he could manage this. The longer it went on, too, the more pleasure filtered in to counter the subsiding pain. Two men wanted him, both men who had power over him. Both desirable and powerful enough themselves to have anyone they wanted. And they both wanted him. Together.

This must have been McManus’s idea—his demand—Marc thought. And the older man obviously was enjoying it. And maybe wouldn’t fire either Marc or Patrick. Might even make Marc’s life better if he stopped fighting this and started making McManus believe he wanted it—which, to some extent—a growing extent—he did, he realized. His own hardened cock and approaching ejaculation assured him of this. And that he took pleasure from it wasn’t hidden from the other two men either. They could feel him hard. They could hear the moans and sighs and the involuntary expressions of pleasure he was giving as the cocks worked him inside—the pleasure of realizing he could take two cocks and that two men wanted him together.

And he could feel that Patrick melted to it too. He had been party to Patrick almost losing his job. Patrick, who had been such a good friend in giving him this job, and then such a good lover. If Patrick enjoyed it too . . .

With a cry, he came up the belly of the impresario’s silk waistcoat. With a grunt of his own, McManus came as well. Patrick came last, and what was it to Marc, if McManus and Patrick kissed each other over his shoulder before they disengaged? Patrick had told him that they both had to do what they could to get into the good graces of McManus.

Nearly tossed into the corner of the seat by McManus when they were done and Patrick had fallen back into his own seat and was buttoning up the fly to his trousers, Marc lay in a heap of soreness and exhaustion as McManus barked for the driver to stop and to hail a cabbie.

Marc was able to see street lights from the side windows of the carriage, so he knew they hadn’t gotten completely out of the city yet. He looked on dully and a bit confused as McManus and Patrick put their heads together between the seats and conversed in low tones. McManus took out his purse and gave Patrick some money, and Patrick exited the carriage, which started up again almost immediately.

As they were wheeled out into the darkness of the estate areas of Long Island, McManus pulled Marc back onto his lap and fucked him roughly again.

For the next four weeks, covering the last week of preparation of Faust and the three weeks the opera ran, McManus kept Marc at his country house—and in his bed when Marc wasn’t at the theater performing in the opera. McManus would fuck him in a big four-poster bed in the late morning when they both woke up. Frequently the young carriage driver, who obviously did much more for McManus than drive his carriage, would join them in the bed, and Marc would gain more experience in the double-penetration fuck. It seemed to be a favorite fetish of McManus’s—he murmured at one time that he was in a secret club cultivating the practice—and Marc himself increasingly became accustomed to it. Patrick had slowly trained Marc to beg for the fuck. Even Marc realized that McManus was having him on the way to begging for the double fuck.

To his surprise, McManus and the chauffeur showed Marc that there was more than one position—the bottom man sitting, the middle one in his lap and facing away, and the top coming in facing the middle one, as performed in McManus’s carriage—of the double fuck. They took him with them facing each other, legs overlapping and cocks held together, with Marc lowering himself on the cocks, either facing McManus or facing the chauffer. They took him standing, with Marc’s legs hooked on the hips of the crouching McManus, and the chauffeur fucking him on top of McManus’s cock from the rear. And when they had gotten Marc’s hole well stretched, they even took him with McManus on his back at the end of the bed, his legs stretching to the floor, and Marc reversed on his body, his head toward the floor and McManus’s ankles hooked behind his neck, and the chauffer sitting on McManus’s belly and stroking inside Marc’s stretched channel.

McManus would take Marc into the theater with him in his carriage in the late afternoon and Marc would remain there, dining out with McManus and the other dancers seeing that Marc was in special favor—with Marc not being able to complain about how McManus took care of his personal needs while he was with the impresario. And then, after the running of the Faust performance and another after-the-theater meal, McManus would fuck Marc again in the carriage on the way back out to the Long Island house, all the time whispering to Marc what form of the double they later would be using.

Patrick didn’t fuck Marc again. He no longer told Marc that Marc needed any private sessions to brush up his dancing, and Patrick’s attention now went to another dancer. Marc was disappointed, but he thought no thoughts that perhaps Patrick’s work with him was done—and McManus more than kept his sexual life occupied. Marc was not particularly the contemplative kind of a young man. As long as his personal needs were met, he was allowed to dance, and he was in the minimum of pain, life for him was fine. He did miss Patrick’s fucking, though.

He wasn’t sure, however, if he got off more on being fucked by a single man than by two. He had enjoyed Patrick, better than he enjoyed McManus alone. But he wasn’t really sure anymore that he preferred Patrick alone to Patrick and McManus or McManus and the carriage driver together. When he was being doubled, he had two men wanting him—and after his channel had been conditioned to open to two at once, a double stroking was maybe more arousing than having a single cock inside him. He wasn’t sure and was half afraid of thinking about it. But he thought that just maybe . . .

And he enjoyed having an older man, a rich man, taking care of all of his needs. He hadn’t been the least happy starving and living in hovels waiting for something good to happen to him in New York. Patrick had been something good. McManus was something even better. McManus plus his carriage driver or Patrick . . .

He sometimes wondered how he’d react to two muscle-bound hunks, not just one beautiful body like Patrick’s or the carriage driver’s plus a middle-aged man like McManus.

* * * *

Life was good to Marc—even with the heavy-demand fucking and the snide, jealous comments behind his back in the Met troupe that he almost was able to hear. But life didn’t stay all that good. As good as Faust was as a production, it was an extremely expensive production to put on stage, and New York society in the mid 1880s was prepared to take only so much of it. The seats could only be filled to break-even capacity for two weeks. The production went on for a third week before McManus realized that production costs were bleeding him far more than he could manage.

He needed a financial angel. And he needed the angel just to stop the hemorrhaging of costs and to cover accumulated debts. The show would have to close anyway.

He went to Henry Powl, a manufacturer with money to burn, and a colleague in the secret “doubles” society he belonged to.

“If you help me get out of this production in the black, you could be an equal investor in my next production without putting any money in,” John McManus said.

“I’m not sure New York is ready yet to make any opera of high-quality production profitable. I don’t know what would be in it for me to make it worth my while.”

“I’ve seen you at the theater, Henry,” McManus said. “I’ve seen the way you look at one of the male dancers.”

“So?”

“He takes doubles,” McManus said. “I’ve trained him to take the double in several different positions.”

* * * *

McManus told Marc they were having dinner with a friend of his who also had an estate out on Long Island. This was the night after Faust closed. Marc was worried about work, but McManus said that, if Marc trusted him, McManus would take care of him.

The two were met at the door of Henry Powl’s country mansion by Henry, who was wearing a cloth robe.

“I thought we’d take a swim before dinner,” he said.

Marc’s first thought was that the weather was much too cold to be taking a swim, but Powl anticipated that.

“I have an indoor pool in the conservatory.”

Of course you do, Marc thought. What he then said, though, was. “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“Neither did I,” Powl said, with a smile. He opened his robe to reveal that he was naked underneath. And in erection. And better equipped, younger, more handsome, and with better body definition than McManus had. Longer even that McManus’s chauffeur.

“I didn’t bring a suit either,” McManus said. But Marc didn’t hear what he said. His attention was focused on the beautiful—if older than his—body of the financier and manufacturer.

McManus was sitting on the side of the pool, and Marc was in his lap, sitting on his fully sheathed cock. When Powl moved through the water toward them and said, “I want to fuck you too,” Marc merely smiled, opened his legs, leaned back into McManus’s chest so that his hips rolled up, and opened his mouth to Powl’s kiss, as the manufacturer fisted and spread and raised his legs, and started working his cock inside Marc’s channel above McManus’s.

Powl was long and thick. This was the thickest combined taking Marc had received, but after the initial difficulty opening to it, he reveled in the fuck. Powl was more of a man than either McManus or Patrick were. And he did all of the stroking. McManus remained hard, but dormant, as Powl stroked hard and deep, his kisses, the touch of his hands on Marc’s body, and the endearments he whispered in Marc’s ears sending Marc over the moon. Not just once. Twice. The man had stamina and each man came twice before he was finished.

As they were dressing for dinner, McManus told Marc that this was the way he was taking care of Marc, unless Marc wanted to just go out into the city on his own. That the production was dead and McManus couldn’t support Marc anymore, but that Powl would take care of him, if Marc didn’t put up a fuss and just stayed here.

Marc didn’t put up a fuss. And the tears he shed when McManus left him there with Powl were mainly to be polite and to show his gratefulness.

* * * *

They were in a latticework pavilion in the extensive, well-manicured Italian-style garden of Henry Powl’s estate. Marc was bent over the side of a chaise lounge and Henry, his hands gripping Marc’s waist and moving him back and forth, was fucking him from behind.

The man had been insatiable, fucking Marc constantly and on every surface of the mansion for more than a week. Marc’s needs were being met—all of them. He missed dancing, but all of his other needs were being met. Slowly but surely he was forgetting his need for independence and to dance—dance on anything but one, or two, cocks.

If only Henry had the prowess of a McManus and the youth of Patrick, he thought. Or if Henry had a well-built friend.

As he was being fucked, Marc was looking beyond the pavilion, through the latticework. A gardener was working in a nearby bed. He was older than Henry, but even more heavily muscled. He moved with the grace of a dancer. He was stripped to the waist, and his flimsy-material shorts were pulled down in front to just below the line of curly hair, black, flecked with gray, of his pubes. They were held up in back by bulbous cheeks. When he stood and turned, Marc could see that the gigantic bulge of his basket was what pulled the shorts down in front.

He was a god. Not young, but Zeus-like, with perfectly defined bulging musculature and curly hair on his chest running down into his shorts and on the backs of his forearms and cascading out of his armpits. All virile man.

He was watching the fucking now that he’d seen Marc and Powl in the pavilion. There was a little smile on his face. He stripped off his shorts and Marc gasped at the size of his cock and his low-hanging balls.

Powl saw him too. “Tony. You want a piece of this too? He does doubles.”

Marc felt a whisper at his ear. “You want Tony too?”

“Oh, yes. God, yes,” Marc whimpered. “But, he’s so big. And you are too. I don’t know . . .”

Powl was lying flat on his back on the chaise lounge, Marc mounted on his cock, facing him. Tony pushed Marc down onto Powl’s chest with a strong fist in the middle of the back. Marc cried out and begged for mercy as the horse-hung Italian gardener, straddling the chaise lounge and Powl’s thighs with his legs, worked his cock inside Marc’s channel above Powl’s shaft.

Marc was panting and howling. Powl solicitously whispered in his ear, asking him if it was too much.

“Yes, it’s too much,” Marc cried out. “But don’t stop, please. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

And Tony did. Once saddled, he began to stroke hard and deep and his arms embraced Marc’s chest, his hands covering Marc’s pecs, thumbs thrumming Marc’s nipples, while Powl fisted Marc’s cock and stroked him in rhythm to what, first, Tony was doing inside him. And then, when Marc had settled down and moans and panting and begging for the fuck replaced all of his fears and objections, Powl started stroking him in counter rhythm.

Marc no longer thought of being taken care of or when his next opportunity to dance on stage would be. He only thought about this double fuck—and the next one.

He thought he’d never have it as good as Henry and Tony, but when Henry handed him off to Tony to take home and they were met at the garden cottage door by Tony’s young, handsome, muscled, horse-hung, and smiling son, and the two men put Marc on the cocks right there, standing, with him sandwiched between them, his legs hooked on the young son’s hips, and the two men competing with each other on stamina and hard-stroking ability, Marc knew there were always new heights to reach in being double fucked.


###

146 Gay Erotic Stories from Habu

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I was only in for thirty days, and then not because of something I’d actually done. My buddy Phil had left drugs in my car, and the cops found them when they stopped me because I was driving a little too fast when I pulled away from a country beer hall they were staking out. I should have known better. I was only nineteen, and I shouldn’t have been in that beer hall at all, let alone drinking.

Chain Gang Banged

I was only in for thirty days, and then not because of something I’d actually done. My buddy Phil had left drugs in my car, and the cops found them when they stopped me because I was driving a little too fast when I pulled away from a country beer hall they were staking out. I should have known better. I was only nineteen, and I shouldn’t have been in that beer hall at all, let alone drinking.

Chaz's Choice

“Are you sure? You don’t have to go through with this.”But, who was I kidding. Julio’s choices had been shut down that first night—the night I’d found him supposedly by chance, but with chance having nothing to do about it. He’d been had even before I approached him at the Noobai Café, the discreet little gay hookup bar in the Restele district of Lisbon, not far from the Cuban consulate.

Cockpitting

After two years in the male-male paradise of Bangkok, a short assignment to Okinawa, Japan, seemed, for most of my tour, like entering a monastery. I was supposed to rotate directly back to the States with my SR71 supersonic photoreconnaissance unit, but the North Koreans were acting up on the DMZ, and the government wanted an intense look-see at whether or not they were building their troop

Congo Drums

The riverboat hit a log, or something, on the hull right at my head, and I woke with a start. The first sensation in the soft, wavering light of a single lantern hung by the doorway was the sound of the drums and low chanting from somewhere above. The driver and cook at it again. The sound was monotonous and comforting all at the same time. It also seemed to be richer than before, almost

Creamy Thighs

Tight, hard and hairless bodies with creamy thighs, resilient flesh on muscles of steel; and flexibility; flexibility is a must. I insist on that; and obedience and total subservience. And I possess them all. I fuck them all, women and men alike. I fuck them all regularly, without showing favor. That’s the only way to keep order. And they stand in line, audition for the privilege of being

Dagger Through the Moon

I am Darien, magician to the D’Ibelins; son of Jared, magician to the D’Ibelins before me; and grandson of Deter, magician to the kings of the Aquitaine. Can anyone deny my powers after the Horns of Hattin? But, no, no one but me knows of what really happened there in miracle of the stronghold of Belvoir. And that, perhaps, is as it should be. But as I glide across the sky, I look at that brand

Dangerous Experiment

[Author’s Note: When the Philippe LeCroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation,” “Natchez Refreshment.” “Biloxi Renewal,” “Reconnected Recovery,” “Theatrical Revival,” “Sailing Back into Life,” “Harvesting in the Park,” “Garden District Plunge,” “Dangerous Experiment,” “Dueling Regeneration”] Philippe had just been renewed, and he was

Deal Closer, Part 1

As we strapped ourselves in across from each other, knee to knee in the sleek corporate jet, I was wondering why CJ had picked me to fly out to the coast to try to close this business deal. I was pretty new to the company and no where near to having the seniority to be included on this trip. But I wasn’t complaining. A week in California and time to get to know the vice president of sales better

Deal Closer, Part 2

We got into L.A. that night and CJ and I went straight to the hotel. I was exhausted after my in-flight service training. CJ had booked a suite with two separate bedrooms, so I went to my room after dinner, showered, and went straight to bed. I was laying there on the wide bed, on my back, staring at the ceiling and just about asleep, when CJ crept into the room, came up on the bed and sat on my

Deal Closer, Part 3

When I had cleaned up and returned, I found that CJ had wiped himself off with a washcloth that Binggum had conveniently previously located in a bowl on the coffee table and was stuffing and buttoning his sausage back into his red-silk pouch. Binggum was stretched out on full the sofa, another wash cloth lying near him on the floor, probably used with a gentle touch by CJ in the most

Director's Couch

I often did things backwards in life. The old Hollywood adage goes that many a starlet—and we can add many a leading man, now that the cat is out of the closet on that—got their film career break by the audition they did on the director's or producer's couch. In my case, however, I got the part before the director had me taking direction under him on his couch. I had been a child actor on

Do You Trust Me?

Angelo had been so tense through his set at the café this evening, that he was afraid that it could be heard in his voice or in a change in how he coaxed the music out of the strings of his guitar. But those sitting around a smoking and drinking long after the food service had been shut down didn’t seem to have reacted any differently than before, with just those exceptions. Although all of the

Doubling Bets

(Suckered into betting against the double penetration myth) I should have known the sneaky Dutchman had all the angles figured when he suckered us into betting against a myth in the Men Only back room at Cowboy's Bar in Bangkok's Patpong district. He waited until the third revolution of the happy hour clock—when we were all soused and sluggish—and entered with a boy-built Thai. I recognized

Dueling Regeneration

[Author’s Note: This story completes the Philippe LeCroix series, which is best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation,” “Natchez Refreshment.” “Biloxi Renewal,” “Reconnected Recovery,” “Theatrical Revival,” “Sailing Back into Life,” “Harvesting in the Park,” “Garden District Plunge,” “Dangerous Experiment,” “Dueling Regeneration”] Philippe LeCroix, with his new chauffeur,

Egyptian Ram

I was nearing the end of the fourth group lesson on self-defense techniques at the store-front gym under the instruction of a heavily muscled Egyptian wrestler named Anwar, when he took me aside and, after telling me he thought I’d make a natural wrestler, asked me if I’d like to stay after class and have him demonstrate some holds to me. I had admired his massive build—a bodybuilder’s barrel

Eight- and Nine-Inch Drills

Ad placed by Andre (9 slender inches) and Mike (8 thick inches) in the local weekly newspaper: - - - - Power Drills: GBM’s, Strong, hard, silent eight- and nine-inch power drills seek tight BWM or SWM who seeks filled fantasy experience for multiple drill role play says-no-but-wants-yes bottom. Call Mike at 945-6036. - - - - Ad Rob saw instead in the local weekly newspaper and decided

Elementary, Snidely

“But I don’t understand how you can just stand here, out on this beach, and declare that Jason Dunn has run away with his college football offensive team coach and lost his virginity, Doctor Klein. The Dunn’s paid us to find their son, and I very much doubt they will be amused with the elaborate and very offensive story you’ve come up with by way of explanation.” “It’s elementary, Snidely. And

Elusive

I waited until we'd almost reached Miami's airport, but I couldn't leave it here.

Emmet

We live in a university town, my wife and I, and we live in a neighborhood within five blocks of the edge of that university. It’s an affluent neighborhood, built on heavily wooded, well-manicured lots on the side of a ridge, with narrow streets running up and down and twisting here and there. Almost like the country, but a wealthy enclave right in the small city. Quite staid we are. Not ones for

Enticingly Unnaked

“How about I treat you to a drink? You must be thirsty from all that naked time on the platform.”I had just climbed down from the velvet-covered bench on the platform where I’d been posing, in the nude, for the past hour for Chad Simmons’s Savannah College of Art and Design night school art class. I’d barely had time to shrug my white cotton dress shirt over my shoulders. That didn’t stop the

Ernestine

I’m not sure why I went to Club 216 that night. I’d joined months before but had gone only rarely. Joining put me on their e-mail list, though, and I kept seeing announcements go by of their semiannual beauty contest. It didn’t pay much attention to it—or at least I didn’t think I had—but that Saturday night found me there, just a couple of table rows away from the stage. I was by myself at the

Ethiopian Cabin Boy

When I left Bangkok, Thailand, the first time, I originally thought I'd be returning to a world that was almost completely straight and that my days of enjoying a rich and active bi lifestyle were over. My work with the government, with its strong homophobic policies, just didn't seem to leave that avenue safely open to me. And for a couple of years, when I was assigned to Washington, D.C., and

Family Day on the Pool Table

I had always thought that about the only thing you could do on a pool table was play pool, but the Taylor brothers went to great length and depth to teach me otherwise. I’d met the three brothers on the beach at Pataya, Thailand. Their family owned a hotel construction company and was making money hand over fist in throwing up fancy hotels in downtown Bangkok and at the Pataya and Hua Hin

First Threesome

My first, memorable threesome was in that fancy gym in Bangkok where I had recently met who I called my Indian magician, who had seduced and initiated me. And the threesome was orchestrated by that Indian diplomat as well. He had been eyeing a military attaché from the Israeli embassy on the exercise floor—a man pushing his forties, built close to the ground but with long arms, almost simian in

Firsts With An Indian Magician

My first time for a lot of things came within a three-week period. I was a young Air Force pilot, living in Bangkok, Thailand, and flying the SR71 photoreconnaissance airplane. I was as virginal as they came before arriving in Bangkok. Sports through school and Air Force training and heavy workouts pretty much had taken all of my time and energy. I was about as Mom, apple pie, and country first

Friday Nights with Lenny

I stepped back from the sidewalk, hugging my arms close to my sides, and leaned back on the wall at the corner into the alley, raising one leg, knee bent, and my cowboy booted foot flat against the wall. The hole in the sole of that boot was worn clean through and the cold of the wall wasn’t as cold as that of the sidewalk pavement. Besides, it was a good pose for the purpose. While still

Garden District Plunge

[Author’s Note: When the Philippe LeCroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation,” “Natchez Refreshment,” “Biloxi Renewal,” “Reconnected Recovery,” “Theatrical Revival,” “Sailing Back into Life,” “Harvesting in the Park,” “Garden District Plunge,” “Dangerous Experiment,” “Dueling Regeneration”] Philippe watched them from the shadows in

Getting . . . Educated, Conclusion

The next day was my next tennis date with Ben. As I had thought and hoped for, after we’d played and I’d beaten him for the first time, I learned that he was in bad condition again and needed help. We both took showers, and he started back for the massage room, but I stopped him, telling him I had found a better place for him to get relief. We hurriedly both put gym shorts and T-shirts on, and I

Getting . . . Educated, Part 1

It was the first month of my graduate school, and it was my turn for the “introductory” evening with my Logic professor, Paul Hollings. When I’d asked someone who’d taken his class the previous year what the proper attire for such an event was, he had just given me a lopsided grin and said, “For a handsome guy like you? I’d suggest very bulky clothes.” He hadn’t elaborated, but I probably

Getting . . . Educated, Part 10

Although I had several white bandana encounters that week in which all a stranger needed to do to get submissive sex from me was to ask for my bandana, none were as strange as the one I had while I was on my way to play tennis with Ben the first time. I was strolling along, racket case under my arm, when a big black limousine, with smoked windows rolled up beside me, the driver’s window rolled

Getting . . . Educated, Part 12

My next team punch event day was more memorable for being the day of the double massage than for my losing a wrestling match and getting fucked. I lost the match, of course. This time to Greg, who was perverse enough to make me swing both my arms and legs over the parallel bars and then got on a bench under me and fucked me first from the front, my ass tipped up and then from the back, my ass

Getting . . . Educated, Part 13

I still felt better about the possibilities of taking control the next evening, which may be why I took that ticket the doped up rocker had given me and attended his concert. His band really was quite good. He had a large crowd in the university’s soccer stadium and it was even filmed for national sale as a video. The rocker who had fucked me had a great, raspy, character-laden voice and he

Getting . . . Educated, Part 14

At my next tennis match with Ben, he allowed as how he wasn’t in nearly the same painfully hard condition that he had been when we’d done the prostate procedure, but he did show a bit too much eagerness to repeat the massage that day if I thought it was advisable. I wanted him at full staff for presentation to the coach, so I asked him if he could hold off until our next practice match, to which

Getting . . . Educated, Part 15

Coach Seeman had told all of the wrestlers that they could come over and use his swimming pool at any time, and I was so sore and strung out later that afternoon that I took him up on the offer. I knew there was a wrestling meet during that time and figured that Seeman and the real wrestlers would be busy with that and that I’d have the pool to myself. I did, in fact, have the pool to myself

Getting . . . Educated, Part 2

I trudged back to the dorm from having been raped by my Logic professor, feeling very down and very sore, hoping that no one would ever learn about my humiliation; angry at the professor, not knowing how I was going to be able to sit in his class in front of him now. Worried about whether and what demands he might make on me for the rest of the semester. I wasn’t that way. I didn’t want to be

Getting . . . Educated, Part 3

I had been sexually assaulted by three men within my first week at school. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I let it go for several days and then, when I was on my way to throw some hoops at the gym, I just snapped and found myself seeking out the dean of men students. I didn’t know if I could get a walk-in appointment with him, but I felt like I needed to talk to someone about

Getting . . . Educated, Part 4

It had been three days since I had been raped four times within two days, and I was hiding out. I had taken a by-week apartment made over from a motel not too far from the campus, dropped the logic class, and kept as low a profile as I could. I’d found the former motel too noisy to study in, so I was camped out in a small overgrown park nearby, where I was studying on an old picnic table. I

Getting . . . Educated, Part 5

I’d had enough of these repeated sexual assaults; being used like this. The next day, I packed my car and headed for home. No more than three miles beyond the campus gate, though, I heard a police siren and was pulled over to the side of the road. I sat in the car, wondering what I had done wrong, as a policeman strutted around and took a look at both license plates, all the time swishing a

Getting . . . Educated, Part 6

Coach Seeman delivered me to Nate’s door, ravished and still in handcuffs, which had been moved so that my arms were in front of me, and with my jeans barely covering me. When Nate answered the door, he was wearing only his briefs. As the dorm counselor, he had an actual one-bedroom apartment, including separate bedroom, a kitchenette, and a bath—which made me wonder why he showered in the common

Getting . . . Educated, Part 7

I stayed with Nate for the next two weeks, taking in my regular classes in the afternoon and spending most of the mornings learning the fundamentals of wrestling from Nate and Greg in a small room off the main wrestling gym while the coach’s regular “Greek Wrestling” class went on in the main wrestling gym. I thought I was getting the hang of it until I was called in for what coach termed one of

Getting . . . Educated, Part 8

Later that afternoon I got my first glimpse of my possible ticket out of this “team punch” hell. I went to class and the professor, who was also my faculty advisor, asked me to come see her in her office after her next class. When I appeared there, she wasn’t alone. A young student was sitting and chatting with her. I took to him immediately. He was perhaps the most handsome youth I’d ever seen;

Getting . . . Educated, Part 9

My next team punch event defeat wasn’t too taxing. I was getting steeled to these attacks on my body. The winner was one of those lean, mean Marines, without an ounce of fat on a very efficient body and a shaved haircut. Not much to brag about in the below-the-belt category, which probably is why I’d seen him hang out with one of the bantam-weight wrestlers, a willowy, but obviously strong,

Getting. . . Educated, Part 11

The exhaustion of and loss of strength from the previous day’s unexpected sex encounters may have accounted for my tennis match the next day, but it’s just as likely that Ben was just a much better tennis player than I was. He agreed to let me try to recoup the loss and set up another match for two days hence. As I had hoped, we were the only ones in the graduate gym shower room when we went in

Gotta Keep This Job

I had been summoned to the medical suite at my office at the end of the Friday dayshift of my second week on the job, and I showed up with a great sense of trepidation. It had been hard finding this job, and I just had to keep it. But I’d scored drugs for a short time when I’d been in college, and I knew this company had a strict drug policy. I hoped that they hadn’t found out about that—or that

Handed On

“I really do worry about you. When did you eat last?”“Please, please, don’t stop,” Marc whimpered between pants. “Finish me, please. Don’t make me wait.”“Now you want it,” the dance master laughed. “We’ll see how badly you want it.”The two young men were lying on a pile of old costumes in the dark corner of the back of the stage behind the wings. The dance master, Patrick Moran, only

Harmony and Dissonance

“Are you sure this is the address?” Lars Krieger asked, as the hotel car stopped in front of a massive, carved-wood, two-panel door in an otherwise blank concrete wall on Bangkok’s Soi 51 Sukhumvit. The road was narrow, almost an alley, it seemed, to the young German engineer, with one, long stuccoed wall running down its full length on each side with doors like this and wider garage doors at

Harvesting In The Park

[Author’s Note: When the Philippe LeCroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation” “Natchez Refreshment” “Biloxi Renewal” “Reconnected Recovery” “Theatrical Revival” “Sailing Back into Life” “Harvesting in the Park” “Garden District Plunge” “Dangerous Experiment” “Dueling Regeneration”] Philippe had found this one particularly

Highballing

If the CEO of my company hadn’t seen me recently in that gay bar over on 12th and Madison, I don’t know how long it would have taken me to get invited to the executive floor. But Pete Peterson had seen me, and there I was, in his conference room, sitting in a second-row position in the weekly executive meeting. I’d been surprised, but pleasantly so, to see Peterson in the bar. He was one of

Iced

If I didn’t get a good fuck in before tomorrow evening, Tonya and I would be out of the medals for sure. We’d come to the Paris Grand Prix with good hopes of standing on the platform, but my timing was all off in the twists and throws we’d attempted in our practice session tonight, and I knew it was because I was so jittery from not getting my rocks off since we’d been at Skate Canada a couple of

Iced Flip Side

I had had my eye on Aleksey since the skating season began. He was the new partner for Tonya in the ice pairs division, and he was sheer sex on ice. He was all dark, brooding good looks; muscle and power and with curly black hair on his arms and legs and swirling around his pecs and diving in a wide path down into his leotard. He wore his jet black hair long, in a pony tail, with a few strands

Into the Dark

Momma, please. I won’t talk back anymore. Let me out of the closet, Momma. Or turn on a light. You know how scared I am of the dark. Don’t leave me here in the dark, Momma. Please. Please Momma. Momma? Momma?* * * *Brandon leaned over the low, padded cubicle wall and winked at Colleen and told her she was looking mighty fine today. Then, as he turned and moved down the corridor between

Israeli Assault

I'll always remember the Israeli by the image of him standing there at the window of the Oriental Hotel room, the strong Bangkok sun bathing his body in afternoon light—that and by the cockiness with which he took control. The Israeli army officer, a military attaché at his country's embassy in Thailand, had just two weeks earlier been part of my first threesome. He had seen me working out in

Joggered

“Open to me. Open to daddy.” And I spread my legs for him. Before he pushed me back gently onto the thick carpet on the moss covering the little sun-spackled glen, he had me kneel before him and take his beautiful, huge cock into my mouth, where I worked it up to over ten inches of hardness to the sounds of the birds twittering in the trees and the jogger emitting little sighs and moans of

Kasem's Kitchen

If the kitchen of Kasem’s family in the upcountry jungle of Thailand hadn’t burnt to the ground, I possibly never would have found out what the special Bangkok sports massage was all about. Kasem was my masseur at a fancy Bangkok gym, which was open for “men only” a couple of nights a week and which was a major pickup place for prime cuts of male meat. Of course, when I’d started going to the

Last Rodeo

Lattimore stopped at corner of the cookhouse as he was crossing from the main house of his ranch outside Laramie, Wyoming, to the corral to train the quarter horse he’d bought on the last cattle drive to Omaha. He leaned on a fence and watched young Kit chopping wood. The young man was stripped to the waist while he chopped.Bulking up real good, Lattimore thought. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad

Late Night Workout

I had been going to Gabe and Steve’s Gym for a couple of months, and I was quite pleased with the results. I could tell that Gabe and Steve were pleased too, as they’d both been giving me the eye when I was in the shower. I didn’t mind all that much; it was a free world and looks didn’t cost me anything—or so I thought at the time. I knew that Gabe and Steve were a couple, but that didn’t mean

Legend of Cowboy

All sorts of expatriate “characters” gravitated to Bangkok, Thailand, in the seventies and eighties, and none were more colorful than the man known simply as Cowboy. Cowboy was a six-and-a-half foot black American stud, who was said to have been a pro basketball player of some note who had retreated to Bangkok in the face of possible charges for point shaving and racketeering. In Bangkok, Cowboy

Like Father Like Son

As I walked into the city on the main street, Damrak, leading directly from Amsterdam's central train station, I nervously fingered the folded e-mail I'd been carrying tucked in my wallet for the past month and a half. Damrak changed into Rokin, and at the end of canal off the Amstel River, I made a right onto Heiligeweg. I had thought of this possibility on and off for the whole cruise down

Locker Room Revelation

It wasn’t a regular day of practice; only Hank and I had come in, and we’d worked out in the gym after we’d done laps on the field. I could tell he was steamed about something, but I didn’t ask about what. He had finished first, and it looked like I had the locker room to myself when I came in from the gym. I took a quick shower and pulled on my briefs and some baggy shorts and an athletic T, and

Loving Wife

“What’s for dinner? Lamb chops, I hope. You do those so well.”“Of course, if that’s what you want, Ely. If that’s what you want, than that’s what we’ll have.”He’s got no taste buds left, I think. What does he care if it’s lamb, pork, or shit? Note to self—while I try to keep my voice from having the sarcastic edge Ely had complained about of late. Of course we don’t have any lamb chops in

Master of the Boardroom

The reports of the week were winding down, and I looked around the table, only half conscious of what was being reported. The three older guys at the table would take care of all that for me. I was sizing up all of the young and beautiful people I’d stocked the board with. The power to do this was the joy of heading a robust family business; I could stock the board with the pick of the crop, and

Mentoring

Is this the very café table where we sat? Yes, I think it is. In fact, I’m sure it is. It’s as if time has stood still. The café is just as it was nearly thirty years ago—or at least I don’t remember anything as different. It’s hard to believe that as much as London has changed over the last twenty years, Norwich might not have changed at all. Or so it seems. And so I want it to be. I don’t want

Nailed By Obsession

He had become obsessed with me. The party was large and boisterous and our eyes had met across the room and he gave me a brilliant smile. A short time later, he’d sat down beside me with people swirling all around us and had put his hand on my thigh and had given me that brilliant smile again. I tipped my glass to show I needed a refill and glided away from him, not wanting to make a scene. Not

Natchez Refreshment

The cyclist was racing along the top of the Mississippi levee, anxious to get back into Natchez before the rains hit. Sweating profusely in the humidity and under the blazing sun, he had stripped his jersey off and wrapped it around the handlebars of the bike. It was almost dusk now, however, and the storm clouds were rumbling in. He felt chilled and tried to free the jersey from the handlebars

Naval Dilemma

Dutch came first. It was a particularly busy and boisterous night in the Dick Hut, tucked in the back shadows of an alley off the Nuuanu Stream in the heart of Honolulu's red light district. The sign over the door actually said

Neighbor's Hot Tub

My wife was off to see her mother, and for the first time since he’d gotten it, my neighbor, Marty, had invited me for an evening in the hot tub he had put in. His house backed onto my side yard, and he’d done a whole lot of nice renovation on his property since he had moved in. Marty was divorced and probably was in his early fifties, judging from his graying hair, but he had kept himself quite

New Master at Riverbend

Jerome stood just inside the doorway at the shadowed end of the room. He should have just turned and gone down the stairs and out to the carriage to tell Thomas that Master John wasn’t ready to go yet. That’s all Thomas, Master John’s carriage driver, had told him to do. But the shock of what he’d found when he’d entered the house on Decatur Street and been waved to the second door down the hall

New Orleans Rejuvenation

I was there for three nights in the basement strip club on Dauphine Street in the French Quarter, always sitting at the same table. I had picked him out on the first night—a lithe but well-muscled, dark Greek, displaying a mixture of danger and sassiness; much more into what he was doing than any of the other performers. His act was black leather. Studded-leather harness crisscrossing his chest,

No More Evening Shifts

There were four of them who entered the store close to closing time, all muscled punks decked out in black leather. I owned the small convenience store but found myself behind the counter this evening because my regular night clerk called in sick. The hunkiest of the four came up to the counter and puckered his lips and gave me a air kiss. He asked me where Jake, my regular evening clerk, was.

Norwegian Stallion

One of the saddest—and most ironic—casualties of the internecine Greek-Turkish war on Cyprus that divided the island into warring camps three decades ago was the once-famous and elegant Ledra Palace Hotel. The Treaty Room of the Ledra Palace, a hulking stone edifice in the Moorish style, had been the venue where the British secretly committed the crime of slicing up the Arabian Peninsula and

Nuclear Meltdown

It was all happening so fast. I didn’t even have time to feel panic. I just felt a dullness and a foreboding—and a creeping sense of being trapped in a web of some sort. No, more like a cocoon, the sticky thread winding around and around me. Smothering me.“Just a few minutes, Dr. Winthrop, and you can go back to your room. I know this has been a shock to you. We have just a few more questions

On a String in Bangkok

In more recent years I look back on my mid-1970s (and then again early 1980s) Bangkok adventure and just shake my head, wondering what we were thinking we were doing then and how shallow we must have been to be so totally focused on beautiful bodies and the striving for perpetual orgasm.I think that for most of those I played with for two-and-a-half years in the 1970s, the hedonist urges

On The Roof

It was a hot day, and I was out doing my laps in the pool when the roofers arrived. They had started the previous afternoon, just diddling around and getting their supplies where they wanted them. The older of the two was a well-turned-out, chiseled-featured, and solidly built dude, probably in his early forties, with prematurely graying dark hair. He looked like he’d taken real good care of

On The Trail

I had never tried to seduce another guy before, but Dale was just there at the right time and place. We were both runners—he because he was on the college football team and running up and down the Pine Mountain trail helped keep him in shape and I because I wasn’t that long out of college myself and I was doing the best I could to keep my fine form in shape. We had passed each other a couple

Only a Custodian

“And a ten-inch cock.”“You’re shitting us now,” Oliver said.“Yes, I’m shitting you,” Porter answered. “But, really, I would want him to have a nice cock on him.”“Well, high on my list is that he has to be willing to take out the trash without being asked to,” Adrian interjected.“And put the toilet seat down too?” someone asked. They all laughed.“No, thank god,” Adrian answered

Pay-as-You-Go Hitching

I saw him from a good distance away, walking down the highway in the direction I was driving shortly after a big cloverleaf marking the intersection of two major highways. He hardly looked like an experienced hitchhiker, but that was exactly what he seemed to be doing. Not only was hitchhiking illegal on a highway like this, but I also couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a hitchhiker on the

Pianoman

“First the tide rushes in, plants a kiss on the shore . . .”Matt often started a set with something quiet and slow, like “Ebb Tide,” when there was a convention or two in the hotel, like there was today—electricians and bankers. What a combination. Something quiet tended to settle and quiet them down to the point that he could stand it.It wasn’t a question of being a prima donna and

Picking the First Fruit

I think I just might be the best peach picker in Virginia. Well, in Rockingham County at least. And that isn’t just me boasting. That’s what Brother Jeb said all the time I was picking peaches for him. And Mr. Howell said that to me too. More than once he said that. I’ve heard both men say that, in the peach business, it’s getting the first fruit of the season to market before anyone else does

Pirated

I was just about home free with the tasty wench the lads had brought on board for me from Kingston when the attack started. After some mouth play, she hadn’t objected in the least when I’d unlaced her bodice and started giving her ripe melons the attention they deserved. We were entwined together in the window seat of my vessel’s fantail, and, forward lass that she was, she had unbuttoned my

Porn War

The song “Kisses Sweeter than Wine” sprang to my mind, because that was what his kisses were. As far as I could tell in the dimly lit Blue Moon resort hotel room in Las Vegas, he was a young hunk, no older than I was. Most of the men in the room were older, a few probably twice or more my age. None were complete throwaways, but he was prime among them. And he had latched on to me as soon as I’d

Reconnected Recovery

[Author’s Note: When the Philippe LeCroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation” “Natchez Refreshment” “Biloxi Renewal” “Reconnected Recovery” “Theatrical Revival” “Sailing Back into Life” “Harvesting in the Park” “Garden District Plunge” “Dangerous Experiment” “Dueling Regeneration”] The young, drunk construction worker

Remembering Miles

I hadn’t seen Cousin Miles for nearly twenty years, and he looked more like it had been thirty. He looked so defeated and withdrawn into himself. And my memories were of a vibrant athlete. He wasn’t really a cousin in the blood-relative sense. Uncle John and Aunt Frieda had adopted both him and his sister, Mandy, because they couldn’t have any of their own. You could have told he wasn’t really

Renewal of Passion

I had been down and just marking time ever since I'd left Beirut three years earlier. I hadn't really been able to write that whole time either; I was just floating on the royalties from my earlier novels, written in the passion of my youth—passion that I just couldn't find in me anymore. Perhaps it was having hit that deadly age of fifty; perhaps passion naturally dissipated from that point.

Rest Stop

We were tooling down the highway in the early evening at a pretty good clip in my BMW Z4 Roadster when Perry started to get frisky. Perry was this hulking blond roommate of mine who also was on the football team, but who was a couple of years older than I was and played first-string tailback. I’d just started college this year and was still warming the bench, although I’d impressed the coach

Resting a Demon

I thought I was going to be sick. His mother asked him to entertain us, to play something for us on the piano, and the pert-butt blond tossed the curl out of his face and flowed over to the piano and started to fill the room with Chopin. I’d had this kid in my craw for a good fifteen years, and all I wanted to do was to slam him to the floor and fuck the stuffing out of him. And that was when he

Ride Em Cowboy

Since the 1930s my extended family has had a remote ranch in a hidden Colorado Rockies valley abutting Medicine Bow National Park south from Laramie, Wyoming. The mountain fasts there—almost alpine in environment—are majestic, but they can be raw and cruel as well. Our family raised cattle there and took timber off the mountainsides in a planned "thinning" harvest pattern that supported a

Rude Awakening

The most wonderful thing a lover has ever done for me was to give me my life. I didn’t understand it at the time, but if he had loved me as I wanted him to—as I begged him to—I would be long dead today. The days of my sexual coming of age in Bangkok, Thailand, during the early eighties were paradise followed by a rude awakening, a realization of how life can come back at you hard that I didn’t

Sacrificed by Curiosity

Doug had been conditioning me for months. We had met at the gym, and several weeks after we’d become regular spotting partners, he revealed to me, almost in an off-hand manner, that he was bisexual and that he actually preferred gay sex. He didn’t come on to me—at least not directly—and I consider myself fairly open-minded, so I continued with our informal spotting arrangements. I also had an

Sacrificed by Curiosity, Part 1

* * * The coven was good enough to dump Doug on the steps of an ER in a cross-town hospital and to drop me off at home with one of the younger men from the group there with me to clean me and the damage to our bedroom up and to provide an alibi for me when the police arrived later that evening. After the police left, I went into the bathroom and ran a steaming bath. I stretched out in the

Sacrificed by Curiosity, Part 2

I had been playing with the brunette’s tits, just as she was playing with mine, and I just got my hands away in time for Doug to take over. He must have been rougher on her tits than I was, because she was yipping and moaning and groaning and bouncing a bit on my skewer, which went to twelve inches under her attention. After a few minutes, he wish boned my legs again so that he could bury meat

Sailing Back into Life

Sailing Back into Life [Author’s Note: When the Philippe Lecroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation” “Natchez Refreshment” “Biloxi Renewal” “Reconnected Recovery” “Theatrical Revival” "Sailing Back into Life” “Harvesting in the Park” “Garden District Plunge” “Dangerous Experiment” “Dueling Regeneration”] Alphonse waved

Sailors and Flyboys

FlyboysPete swung into the gym with a big grin on his face. “Fleet’s in and I’ve already talked with Javier. His ship will be in early, on Thursday. Says he can get a three-day shore pass. Time for a special weekend.”“I’m game,” Todd answered, but he was looking up at the man spotting him on the bench press and asked, “How about you, Dan?”“Every weekend’s special with you, babe,” Dan

Satin Circus

(Written by request for a satin fetish story by James A.)The music swells and the lights dim under the big tent, as the excitement builds in the audience and the buzzing conversations subside with the rising expectation that something—something special—is about to happen. Strobing lights and laser beams come up, gyrating around on the floor below and under the canopy of the tent above,

Satin Sleigh Ride

Count Gregor Arninov towered over his elegantly dressed host and hostess in the foyer of their winter dacha as his sleigh was being brought around. He was leaning over them and holding the admiral’s wife’s small silk-gloved hand in his appreciably larger satin-clad one while he murmured how wonderful their ball had been and that, yes, he had enjoyed dancing with their daughter immensely. The

Satisfaction Ashram

As I stood outside the entrance to the old British colonial-style Windsor Hotel in Nuwara Eliya, Sri Lanka, in the shadow of Mount Pidurutagala, waiting for someone to take me up to the ashram, I couldn’t believe how far—and how far back in time—I had moved from Teddy’s cabin in the Catskills. From the moment Teddy’s business partner, Mort Whitley, had driven up to the cabin and told me how

Searching for It

Searching for It(Corbin and Ethan both go looking for it on the New York docks)(sounding, fetish, docks, gay male clubs, domination, gay anal, rough sex, daddies, obsession, collections)“Yo, there, buddy. Lookin’ for somethin’? Cause I got somethin’ for you.”Corbin took a good look at the burly man who had materialized from behind a stack of metal barrels beyond where the light

Snaked on Anjajavy Beach

I had both the advantages and curses of being a rock star. I could afford to go anywhere I wanted on the spur of the moment or as the mood hit me, but if a mood hit me that would land me in the tabloids, I’d better be prepared to go to the ends of the earth.The mood had hit me to get the most exotic and total fuck that I could find by the most talented cocksman I could attract. I had been on

Snow Trap

Boyd had been leery of the arrangement from the very beginning, but he hadn’t said anything to his father about it. His father seemed so happy about having found Vic, one of Boyd’s college prep school coaches, two years after Aaron, his former lover, had died. Boyd would much rather it had been anyone other than Vic, someone who Boyd hadn’t known before Aaron died. But, when he was being honest

Snowy, Snowy Nights

In most senses Bran had been invisible at the Hayden saloon the couple of months he’d been there. But as he came out of the back room into the main saloon hall, carrying the bucket of water Levi Yost, the saloon keeper, had told him to use to freshen the bowls in the rooms upstairs, he looked at the tall Christmas tree in the corner. Sadie, Katie, and Faye were busy happily decorating the tree

Solicitous Service

Goran saw the young man standing nervously at the reservations desk and liked what he saw. He was even happy that Serge, the maître d, was pretending not to see the young man, because that meant that Goran, the waiter, could see him to the table—and could make contact of some sort with him on the way there. Goran was one to make an immediate assessment of the playing field and pick out who he

Someday My Prince Will . . .

Last night I dreamt I went to paradise again. I believe we can credit the encounter to Daphne du Maurier. My tour in Cyprus was at an end, but I had hung on for a month, sending my wife back to Washington, D.C., to get the house open up again and everything there back in working order and to guide one of our children into a new university year. I had stayed past my assignment rotation date to

Sweet Sanjay

I heard my name being called out from the midst of the teeming horde pressing in on the barriers after customs in New Delhi’s Indira Gandhi international airport, and a head and arm waving a sign was bouncing up and down over the tumult. The sign the young man was carrying said “Clifford Jenkins” with “New York” written under it. That was me. But I wasn’t being met by anyone that I knew of. The

Swimming Lessons

“I’d like to make an Australian Crawl.” Stan gave a hearty laugh and acknowledged an empty glass up the bar. While he was gone, Keith, in turn, acknowledged that his own beer glass had miraculously filled on its own. He didn’t have much doubt that Stan was trying to get him drunk so that Keith would go in the back room with him. The burly barkeep had been putting the moves on him for some time

Ten Slash Two

I had been jittery and conflicted for the entire two weeks since I’d seen that big black topping a guy at a pool party in Bangkok. I had been bottoming for a Swede in a nearby patio lounge when I looked over and saw this monster cock jack-hammering in out of the other guy—who clearly was in seventh heaven—and I almost melted on the spot. I was conflict, though. Obsessed with desire because the

That One Exception

I have always managed to keep my bisexual world in check and separate from my public straight world by always putting my wife and children first and by committing only to them—that is, possibly, with one notable exception. I had an atypical long-term relationship with an Australian colleague that seemed innocuous at least at the beginning but that has grown stronger over the years—possibly beyond

The Awakening

I guess it may have been because of my mother—and of the strange beliefs my grandmother formed around her. Up until the time my grandmother’s ill health coincided with me being old enough to go to college, I’d been kept in the dark about so many things. I knew that my mother must have done some really, really bad things from the way that my grandmother just tightened up, crossing her arms under

The Caregiver

Perhaps I gave in so easily because Lenny embodied the best of two worlds. First, he was a wonderful, gentle caregiver. He had been coming to my house twice a day for several weeks to take care of my bed-bound grandmother, who was recovering from a broken hip. Second, he was drop-dead gorgeous. All blond Swedish muscle with a shy smile to accompany his sensuous mouth. I’d had a rough week

The Celtic Sonata of Life

I was sitting outside the cottage door, just in my shorts, wondering if the farmer who had rented the rustic Cotswold cottage with the thatched roof and the rose trellis beside the door to me for two weeks had misinterpreted my offer. It hadn’t been in so many words, but I think I had been clear enough in my nonverbal delivery. But maybe not. Maybe signaling here in England was much different

The Clothes Horse

“You’d get half of the bid, plus you’d get to keep the clothes.”I didn’t know that I was all that wild about being auctioned off, but I had to admit that I liked—no, I loved—Zhao Zeng’s clothes. That was what had attracted me to him in the first place. His black satin shirt and trousers were cut so well—and so provocatively—on him that I could hardly keep my eyes off him, even though I’d come

The Commander

“Ahhh, that were very nice,” I said with a deep, satisfied sigh, as I spilled my seed down Des’s chin. We were in the boathouse on the lower lake, here because Des had wanted me to fuck him. But now we’d have to sit and talk for a bit, listening to the racing shells grind against the dock outside in the bit of a squall that had come up over Sandhurst. It would take me a few to recharge.“Cig?”

The Compassionate Reporter

“Lou is chasing another story down, Gavin, and this one doesn’t look like more than a short paragraph in the local news section. So if you’ve got an hour or two, could you check this out? And if you don’t have an hour or two, I’d like to know what you’re doing; what you’re working on now was due on my desk an hour ago.”The city editor handed Gavin a telephone message form.“OK, boss. I’ll

The Cure

I came to slowly, the flashing colored lights taking their time to form in my consciousness and whatever Tony had spiked my drink with slow to let loose of me. I was lying on a bed. I tried to rise, but my hands were cuffed together above me and my legs were cuffed as well to the lower corners of the bed. But the bounds were loose there. I could raise my legs as I wanted, but I couldn’t rise from

The Darling

“I’m going to take you to the Darling tonight.”I froze. I’d been chatting with three other guys on the sectional sofa in the conversation pit, not even aware that the major had reentered the house. I was studiously avoiding thinking of where he was. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been in this conversation group at all. I normally tried to stay well away from these three. The three pansies we had

The Day the Earth Moved

The two construction workers worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning up for the evening around the construction site on the new house on the steep hillside overlooking the pounding surf on the rugged coast below. The two moved together, in fluid motion. They were having a boisterous and obscene conversation of what the two horny hunks planned to do to their girl friends that evening after a

The Netotiator

I wondered what he could tell about me that no one at home or the office—at least I hoped and always had thought—knew. He had introduced himself as Hal when he’d appeared beside me in Business Class and I’d stood from my aisle seat so that he could get over to the window. He’d had a friendly smile, and if I hadn’t been busy during the first two hours over the Atlantic from New York going over the

The Thunderstorm

I fully acknowledge my weakness, but I think Janine has a share in the shattering of my vows to her. I’d only had that one fling back in college—with Phil. But Chet and Phil had had an affair after college, and now Chet was living in the next acreage to ours. Obviously Phil and Chet had talked about me, and Chet knew all about me before he moved here, because he had made quite clear to me that he

The Video List

“It sounds too complicated for you, Matt,” Jason had said. “Getting a list would be the hardest part—impossible, I think. This is a small potatoes town. I think you should just keep it to the street and be happy when it works out. And get a job.”I’ll admit that getting a job was what got the plan rolling. Then getting a list turned out to be one of the easiest parts. The roughest part,

Theatrical Revival

Theatrical Revival [Author’s Note: When the Philippe LeCroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation” “Natchez Refreshment” “Biloxi Renewal” “Reconnected Recovery” “Theatrical Revival” “Sailing Back into Life” “Harvesting in the Park” “Garden District Plunge” “Dangerous Experiment” “Dueling Regeneration”] The bodybuilder

To Die in Madeira

I closed my lips over Sir Guy’s cock and pushed his foreskin down with them, my tongue going to opening and flicking down into his piss slit as my mouth slowly took more and more of him inside the moist warmth of my mouth cavity. He sighed contentedly and ran his fingers through my hair. He reached up and pulled my cock down to his lips and started returning the compliment.We were half way

Training Asu

“You cannot put it off any longer, my friend. If you do not choose for Asu soon, the priests will take him. The choice will no longer be yours—or Asu’s. He is of age for starting the life chosen for him. He cannot do other than meet his destiny.”“I know that, Sargon, it is just so hard . . .”Baltasar, the wood merchant, was sitting at a table outside of the tea shop in the bazaar, sipping

Trip Money

I had become a regular at the gym on Tuesday nights, and this 40-something businessman named Clint, who was also a regular on that night, and I had gotten to where we regularly spotted each other through our bar bell work. He was in great shape for his age, leaner than I was, but with well-defined, ropy muscles and chiseled square-cut features. I’d been trying to save the money for some time to

Trucker Bait

As I came up from the beach, I saw Carl and Angela on the deck, He had her top off and was stroking her breasts, and she was sitting astride his lap, having made who knows what connection. I knew what they’d be doing for the next couple of hours, which would leave me at loose ends again. I decided to take the initiative. “Hey, Carl,” I yelled out from below the deck sight line. “Would now be

Trunk Of The Car, 1

Trunk of the Car, Part 1 I found I had a carefree weekend on my hands, so I had driven into the small town to answer an ad for a classic Triumph convertible that I might want to add to my collection. But I had been up and down the street several times without finding the address I was looking for. So, I just parked my car and started hunting on foot. I did find the address, but no one seemed

Trunk Of The Car, Part 2

Eric must have enjoyed the polishing job we’d done on the trunk of his Tempest, because when I’d finished shooting off into him, he said, “Well, Peter if you’ll get this beautiful body off mine and stop entertaining the neighbors, perhaps we should go in and shower.” “I want to fuck again. I want you to fuck me,” I said, without moving. “That’s not out of the equation,” Eric said, with a

Trunk Of The Car, Part 3

As we were leaving the shower, Eric took the tube of mentholated lubricant, squeezed out a large glob, and asked Claude to apply it, which Claude was more than happy to do, pushing his hand deep down the back of Eric’s silk shorts and massaging the gel into Eric’s ass as Eric grunted and twitched his butt. “As soon as this does it’s magic,” Eric said. “I want you to have another go at me, Claude.

Trunk Of The Car, Part 4

Sometime later, I was awakened by Eric pressing on my shoulder. I raised my arms to bring him into bed with me, but he shushed me and said in a low voice, “No, not that. We hear something downstairs. Claude’s gone ahead to check it out. He wants us to follow him down. When we got to the first floor, we could see Claude at the back of the house, near a door that went into a workout room. Claude

Trunk Of The Car, Part 5

After hosing ourselves off again and getting back into those silk shorts, Claude suggested we go down to the living room and drink beer and watch a football game on TV. So, down we went. After I tossed off my first beer, I began to feel a little sorry for the dude hanging up in the gym and asked if it would be okay if I went in there and cleaned him up a bit and put some salve on the new hole

Trunk Of The Car, Part 6

When I awoke, the room was dim, and the house seemed very quiet. It had been a great day, but it was time to shower off one last time and hit the road. But first I’d find the guys and see what they were up to. As I got to the bottom of the stairs, I heard some noises from the back of the house and padded into the gym. The pizza guy was still on delivery, I could see. They’d pulled out the

Turkish Delight Times Six

While living on the island of Cyprus, I developed quite a taste for young Turkish men. If you could get a good-looking, well-constructed Turkish guy before he got too far into his forties, you could almost guarantee you'd have something forceful, vigorous, straightforward, and good natured to play with. You also, quite often, would have a guy with a pretty heavy pelt on him. Now, I didn't

Two Men in a Dungeon

The Hulk crouched near the bolted heavy oak door, eyeing Rab, ready to pounce, trying to anticipate where Rab might try to scurry next. The stone-walled chamber wasn’t small, but it wasn’t so large that Rab had much of a chance evading the Hulk much longer. Both men were panting, having played this cat-and-mouse game for several minutes, but Rab was more winded than the Hulk was. No one in his

Wrong Choice

It was the wrong choice of swimwear, and I was headed back to the guest room to rectify that, when the cause of it all stopped me in the hallway. The new owner of our company had invited me to his country place for a weekend to discuss some details of a project we were working on and it turned out there was a pool party included. But, not knowing that, I hadn’t brought my suit. I had assumed this

Zonked

I had literally creamed myself almost nightly for Phil’s body, but Phil was about as straight as they come--and getting all the female tail he could handle if all the talk around campus was true. We were both attending the university on athletic scholarships--Phil on a football and baseball scholarship and me on a wrestling scholarship, wrestling being a good way for me to get down and dirty with

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