Excerpt from “Cruising For Piss”

Here’s an excerpt from Cruising For Piss.

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I unzip my jeans and let my cock hang out. I don’t have to piss, but this is the park washroom supposedly notorious for hookups. I’m so fucking horny — so desperate for cock — that I’m willing to hang out in this men’s room for as long as it takes to get a cock in my mouth or my ass, or preferably both.

My cock is already semi-hard and throbbing with every heartbeat. I grab it and start stroking, pumping my fist back and forth, pleasuring my dick. I have to hold off from coming, hold off from shooting my wad, because I need a cock in me before getting off. Otherwise, I’ll just be back here tomorrow, waiting for the same thing.

If what I’ve read online is true, that this is a cruising spot, it shouldn’t take long, especially with me being a young twink. The door squeaks as it swings open and a set of heavy footsteps come tromping through the washroom.

I let the back of my pants sag a bit, so that whoever came in could see the top of my ass, framed by the band of my red jockstrap. If this is some straight dude or park security, I’m not over the top, but if it’s a desperate gay guy like me, then it’s a clear signal of what I need.

My eyes bug out and my jaw just about drops when the man comes to the urinal right beside me — out of the seven urinals lined up along the wall, he chooses the one right next to mine — he’s the biggest, butchest leather muscle bear I’ve ever seen. Good God, he’s porn star quality. His black leather vest and black leather pants hug him in all the right places, accentuating his bulging muscles and the fatness of his crotch. His bare and hairy arms glisten with sweat from this hot summer day. I look up at his face — rugged and bearded, with a shaved head — and feel my cock get fiercely hard in my hand.

I watch as he raises his hand and puts a sausage-like finger in his mouth, getting it nice and wet. Then he reaches in the back of my pants, grabs my ass, and shoves that saliva-slickened finger in my hole. I groan and my knees nearly buckle as he keeps pushing his finger in me, until it’s fully embedded in my ass.

With his other hand, he unzips his fly and let’s his fat cock hang out. The silver cock ring tight around the base of his dick and balls shines brightly in the fluorescent light. I watch in awe as a thick golden stream arcs from the slit of his dick and splatters on the dirty porcelain. When the bowl of the urinal is half full of his dark piss, he lets go of his cock and lets his piss stream splatter all over the place — the wall, the floor, my pants — and pulls me close to kiss me. He shoves his tongue deep in my mouth, playing with my tonsils, and the scruff on his face scratches against my lips.

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Cruising For Piss

Cruising-For-Piss-2400Cruising For Piss

(Gay Piss Play #2)

Mark is desperately horny — so desperate, he’s staked himself out at a park men’s room that doubles as a popular cruising spot, hoping to have some fun with the next man who walks through the door. His jaw just about drops and his lust almost overwhelms him when he sees who’s come to scope him out and pick him up — a masculine, hairy, muscular leather bear, a man who exudes sex and seems built for porn. But what starts as a simply meeting of two horny men for a discreet encounter very quickly turns into a piss-filled orgy, pushing Mark to the edges of — and beyond — his limits and what he believes himself capable of.

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5,600-word short story

Excerpt from “Pissing My Pants In Public”

Here’s an excerpt from Pissing My Pants In Public.

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“I gotta take a piss — I’ll be right back,” I tell my buddies as I get to my feet. The world spins as I do so and I grab the back of a friend’s chair to steady myself. I’m drunker than I thought I was.

The loud music of the Pride festival pounds through the air, surrounding us here in the beer tent. But even above that noise, I can hear my buddies laughing at me. I’m the lightweight of the group — they always joke about it, calling me the “two drink bottom twink.”

I ignore them and weave my way through the tables toward the exit. The portapotties — I need to find the portapotties. With every step I take, it’s like my bladder gets fuller. I start getting that tingly feeling that starts in my crotch and spreads to my core — my body’s telling me that if I don’t get to a portapotty quick, I’m gonna fucking piss my pants.

I start to feel panicked. I’m close to bursting, but I can’t even see the heads from where I am. I break into a wobbly trot that turns into a clumsy run as I try to get to the blue plastic stalls as fast as my twink ass can get there. As I round a bend, I’m sure I feel a little bit leaking out, soaking the jockstrap I’m wearing beneath my skintight jeans.

Hoping to stave off another leak, I grind the heel of my hand against my dick, trying to hold everything in place. Finally! I see a line of tall, blue boxes past a crowd of people. My clumsy run turns into a full-on sprint across the stretch of field between me and the heads.

I slow down, just slightly, as I approach the crowd of people. Is this a line? A fucking line? I need to get in the portapotty in the next two seconds or it’s all over for me.

“Excuse me,” I mutter as I bump past someone. “Pardon me. Sorry. Sorry. Excuse me. Excuse me. Pardon me.” I finally push past the last person between me and relief — a muscular leather bear — and finally my drunken footsteps give out and I tumble to the ground in front of this masculine man.

And that moment of sweet release hits — right when I so desperately don’t want it. It’s too late, I can’t stop it — and now that it’s started and I’ve already ruined my day, I wouldn’t even stop it if I could. My bladder empties out, my piss coming in a torrent inside my jockstrap and jeans.

My hot, wet piss soaks through the denim and spreads, making my whole lap steaming. I let out a moan of intense pleasure as I continue to empty out. Pissing never felt as good as it does right now.

Finally … finally … my flow turns into a dribble and then it ends. It’s like awareness returns to me in bits and pieces. The last several seconds — minutes? — were so all-consumed by the relief of pissing myself that I had forgotten for the moment where I was and the predicament I’m now in.

The first thing I hear is laughter. It isn’t the laughter of responding to a joke — no, this is much more mocking. This is the laughter of shame. Fuck. I open my eyes and find dozens of people staring at me. Pointing. Laughing. Fuck — a couple guys have their phones out and are filming me. The leather bear looms over me with a smirk on his face.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Pissing My Pants in Public.

Pissing My Pants In Public

Pissing-My-Pants-In-Public-2400Pissing My Pants In Public

(Gay Piss Play #1)

William is having a great time in the beer tent at Pride, until he realizes just how full his bladder is and just how far the portapotties are. Running to the heads is a race against time — one that he loses when he stumbles to the ground and his bladder lets loose. He flees into the woods in shame, only to be followed by a leather bear who saw the whole thing. And that bear has an offer — he’ll drive Randy home, but only if he’s up for a little more wet fun.

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5,500-word short story

Excerpt from “Taking My Son’s Butt Cherry”

Here’s an excerpt from Taking My Son’s Butt Cherry.

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Things got tough around the house after Donna, my wife, passed away. She did a lot of things for us and I didn’t realize how much I relied on her, even though our marriage had tapered out in the last few years and we’d lived more or less as roommates. One moment it was life as usual, the next, I was a widowed father of two, self-made millionaire from an online multimedia company, and the big house we’d lived in, which was big enough for a family of ten, suddenly felt way too big.

In those last years before she died, I’d spent more time with my sons and found I got closer with them, especially my youngest, Dylan. Movie nights with Donna soon became movie nights with the boys. We’d even stay up late sometimes and watch several movies. Scottie, the older by two years, would often go to bed but Dylan and I would stay up and sometimes he’d curl up in my arms and nestle against my lap.

At first, it was just comfortable to be close with him, like when he was a little boy and he wanted to snuggle up with his daddy, but during those movie nights, I found, after he’d fall asleep and curl up, his head near to my crotch, that when I shifted to get closer to him I’d turn so my crotch was closer to his chest, the pressure sending a rush of excitement that had me hard as a rock. I’d put my hand on his back and massage his shoulders, feel his mouth against my chest, and think of how good his soft, warm lips felt through the fabric of my button-up shirt.

Then Donna died unexpectedly of an aneurism in her sleep. I was so shocked by it, I didn’t cry until after five days, and even then the tears were ones of guilt. I blamed myself for letting our love die, and felt so lonely; in some ways, even blamed myself for her death, found myself awake many nights wondering if I’d taken a bit more time to try rekindling what we had if she might have lived.

Donna was gone, and the boys were all I had left. After the guilt passed, there was loneliness, but there was Dylan and Scottie, always with me, and they helped me heal. They spent a lot of time comforting me, helping me around the house, making sure I was all right.

We still had our movie nights, but even when we didn’t, Dylan would often come to my bed after Scottie went to sleep and cuddle up with me. It was innocent on his part, I was sure of it, but I was lonelier than ever and those nights I couldn’t get over how good it felt to have him with me. I’d put my arms around him and snuggle him close, pressing my hard erection shamelessly against his bottom.

If he noticed, he never told me, so this became a thing that we did every night when he’d curl up in my bed. I even found that when he got into my bed he’d turn, facing away, and would push his bubble butt against my waist as I pulled the cover up over us and nestled him in my arm, so I didn’t question it. I’ve always been a go with the flow kind of guy.

One night, after I was spooning him and my cock was throbbing with the pressure and warmth of his butt crack against it, I couldn’t hold back anymore, so I started to move back and forth a little, after I could hear Dylan sleeping. It didn’t take long before I felt my cock pulse and explode with an orgasm unlike any I’d had in years. Cum pumped out so hard I could feel it flooding my underwear, shooting hard against the fabric, but I just kept humping and didn’t want the pleasure to stop. Finally, when I was empty and spent, I wrapped my arm tighter around my son and pulled him close, sinking deep into sleep. In the morning, when he got up, I noticed the yellowed stain of my dried cum all over his pajama bottoms, and couldn’t help grinning in satisfaction at how I’d not only shot my wad so hard it went right through my underwear, but how I’d also marked my son in a way so intimate and secret. When he left for school I found I was hard already thinking about what it would be like to do it again when the day was over, and so I couldn’t wait for the day to end.

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Taking My Son’s Butt Cherry

taking-my-sons-butt-cherry-600Taking My Son’s Butt Cherry

Ted has always been close with his sons. When they were still children, it was just innocent affection, but as they got older, that closeness never faded. If anything, it got stronger, especially with Dylan, his youngest, when he would often spend late nights with Ted that ended with him snuggled up in his dad’s arms on the couch.

When Ted’s wife dies, that closeness with Dylan only intensifies as Dylan starts joining his father in bed, cuddling up close and leaving Ted uncomfortably aroused. The intense connection builds until finally, one night, unable to hold back anymore, Ted makes a move on his son, satisfying an urge for immediate erotic gratification. He feels guilty, but soon learns that this pleasure isn’t quite so forbidden. As it turns out, Dylan wants it just as bad as he does.

A secret affair heats up between them, but there’s only one problem: Ted’s older son, Scottie. He doesn’t know what’s going on, and if he would find out, there’s no predicting what his reaction would be. But that danger of being caught by Scottie only fuels Ted’s lusts, leading him to make daring choices—choices that will either lead to new heights of pleasure, or the ruination of everything he’s worked hard to achieve in life.

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17,500 words