Tag-Teamed By My Dad And My Uncle

Tag-Teamed-By-My-Dad-And-My-Uncle-600Tag-Teamed By My Dad And My Uncle

Andrew’s just turned twenty-one and he can legally drink. More exciting than that, though, is that he finally gets to find out just what goes on in his dad’s Man Cave in the basement. He and Uncle Robert spend so much time there and never allow Andrew to join them because, as his dad says, “You have to be twenty-one to enter.”

So with his birthday just passed and a case of beer in his hand, Andrew heads to the basement to finally join his dad and Uncle Robert in this most secretive of lairs. What he finds on the other side of the door, though, is a revelation more erotic than Andrew could have ever dreamed up.

To welcome Andrew to the Man Cave, his dad and uncle seduce him and show him just how amazing sex between men — sex between family — can be.

Tag-Teamed By My Dad And My Uncle is a 4,000-word short story.

Excitica | Smashwords


Hypnotizing The Straight Hunk

Hypnotizing-the-Straight-Hunk-600Hypnotizing The Straight Hunk

When Jack comes to Coach Peters to talk about performance anxiety on the football field, Coach thinks there’s more than meets the eye. Specifically, he’s pretty certain that Jack is a closeted gay guy, battling with himself, and that’s holding him back in sports. Coach proposes a wild idea — hypnotism — as a way to relax and work past mental barriers. As soon as Jack is under, though, Coach’s devious libido takes over. Instead of working Jack through some relaxation exercises, he instead unlocks Jack’s closet door, letting the hunk’s wild gay lusts run free. What follows is a one-on-one session that Coach will never forget.

Hypnotizing The Straight Hunk is a 3,300-word short story.

Excitica | Smashwords

Excerpt from “Watching Gay Porn With My Dad”

Here’s an excerpt from Watching Gay Porn With My Dad.

If you like what you see, click here to find out where you can get your copy.

I turn down the music on my laptop and listen to the noises in the house. It’s just dad and me at home, and I’m sure I heard him swearing.

Instead, what I hear is something like an alert siren, but it sounds tinny, like it’s coming from computer speakers. I chuckle to myself and get to my feet, leaving my anthropology homework behind. Dad probably got some noisy pop-up ad that he’s having trouble closing. He’s not good with technology.

I wander through the house until I find him. He’s in his room, sitting on the bed, with his laptop across his knees. He looks up at me, startled, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Need help, dad?” I ask, and start crossing the room to him.

“No,” he says, shaking his head franticly. “I’ll figure it out!”

I almost stumble when I see why he doesn’t want my help. His shorts and briefs are partway down his thighs and his hard, thick cock is laying across his lap.

“Uh…” I say, not able to put together words. I take in the sight of it — thick, veiny, dark, hard. It’s far bigger than mine. When I finally pull my gaze away from dad’s cock, I see his cheeks burning bright with shame. I probably look as red as him.

The only sound in the room, which is only barely overcoming the incredibly loud thudding of my heart, is the irritating shrill coming from the pop-up ad. Dad and I stare at each other for far too long.

Finally, he turns the laptop toward me, not bothering to pull his shorts up. “Can you get rid of this fucking thing?”

I nod, then get on my knees next to the bed. Though I try to focus solely on the laptop, I can’t help but glance at dad’s dick, only inches from my face. I try closing the pop-up, which I’m sure dad had attempted, and I was caught in an endless cycle of warnings, forcing the ad to stay open. It took a few moments of fiddling, but I managed to finally close the ad.

With the ad gone, I could see what dad had been looking at.

I never should’ve come in here.

Gay porn filled the screen.

An older man is fucking a younger man, his thick cock completely buried in the younger man’s smooth ass. I glance again at dad’s cock and feel my cheeks burning hot with a blush. Then I look over to the other side of the bed, mom’s side.

“You okay, son?” dad asks. His voice has a little quiver to it, like he’s as nervous as I am right now.

I bite my lip, trying to figure out what to say. Should I tell him what I really want to tell him? Fuck it. I’ll just do it.

“Let me show you a better site for gay porn,” I finally say.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Watching Gay Porn With My Dad.


Watching Gay Porn With My Dad

Watching-Gay-Porn-with-Dad-600Watching Gay Porn With My Dad

When Billy helps his father out with some computer problems, he quickly discovers what got his dad into trouble in the first place — he had been on a spammy gay porn site. Taking a risk and outing himself in the process, Billy sends his father to a better site for gay porn, one free of ads. But as he turns to leave and hopes to forget that any of this ever happened, his father asks him to stay, to enjoy the porn with him…

Watching Gay Porn With My Dad is a 3,600-word short story.

Excitica | Smashwords


Excerpt from “Drinking My Dad’s Piss”

Here’s an excerpt from Drinking My Dad’s Piss.

If you like what you see, click here to find out where you can get your copy.

Dad stumbles in. I lose focus on the game, then pause it.

He’s drunk. I can tell by the way he’s leaning on the wall next to the door.

“It’s 11:36 in the morning,” he says. “You’re still playing games?”

I put the controller down, but stay belly-down on the blanket to hide my erection. “I did all my chores.”

“Your chores? Fuck.” He takes a step forward, staggers, then plants himself in a firm fighter stance. “You ran that vacuum over the carpet so fast it just moved the fucking cat hair around.”

“There’s so much cat hair, Dad. I can’t help it that he sheds so much.”

Dad takes a step toward my bed. “If you did more than play those fucking games all day you’d take a look and see there’s more you can do to help here. Or maybe it’s time for a job.”

“Dad, I want to take the summer off. We agreed I could take a break before I decide what I’m doing. It’s a big decision.”

“It’s September! All you’re doing every time I come in here is sitting on that blanket, playing those fucking games. You’re not a kid anymore. Time to grow up.”

He takes another step toward me. Now he’s standing right at the edge of the bed. He’s wearing his ratty jeans and tight gray t-shirt. He always looks rough and dirty, and today there’s dirt and sweat in his forearm hairs from working in the garden.

Dad’s never hit me before, but when he gets upset like this I’ve always been uncomfortable. Not that he’d ever hit me. I just don’t like it when I know he’s not happy with me.

“I’m not ready to get a job yet,” I tell him. “I’m reflecting on my life. You know, like they say you should.” The urge to piss comes again, and I hump down by instinct.

Dad notices. I can tell by the way he frowns. “You’re too attached to that blanket,” he says. “Sitting here, lying in your bed, doing nothing, it’s like you’re still ten and life is all fun and games. Maybe if you get rid of that thing…”

The thought of getting rid of my blanket causes me panic. “I’ll do more chores. Even look for a job, if I have to.”

“No.” Dad comes forward some more, leaning his thighs against the edge of the bed now. “That blanket was cute when you were a kid. But now keeping it around is a reminder that you’ve failed to grow up.”

I’m thinking of something to say, but that all goes to shit when Dad’s hands go to the button on his jeans and then he zips down his fly.

“Dad,” I protest. Quick as that, he flips his underwear down and pops his cock out. It’s semi-stiff, a good five inch shaft of thick meat.

I’m still in shock trying to figure out what the fuck he’s doing when the yellow stream starts flowing from his dick. Yellow. He’s pissing! He’s got his cock in one hand and he’s aiming it right at my blanket.

“What the fuck!” I scramble over a bit, but not completely off my blanket. Piss splatters against it in front of me, forming a puddle at the edge.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Drinking My Dad’s Piss.


Drinking My Dad’s Piss

Drinking-My-Dads-Piss-600Drinking My Dad’s Piss

Charlie lives at home. He’s not in school and he doesn’t have a job. The only thing he does all day is sit around in his boxers and play video games.

His father has had enough of this. He feels it’s time for Charlie to grow up and move out. What he sees, though, is Charlie holding onto his childhood. And the symbol for that childhood is that pathetic blanket he’s had since he was a boy.

The only way to sever that bond to Charlie’s childhood is to piss all over it. Charlie, though, will do anything to save his blanket and hold onto his innocence — he’ll even swallow down his father’s piss so the blanket stays clean.

Drinking My Dad’s Piss is a 4,100-word short story.

Excitica | Smashwords


Excerpt from “Hypnotizing The Straight Jock”

Here’s an excerpt from Hypnotizing The Straight Jock.

If you like what you see, click here to find out where you can get your copy.

“Come on,” Alex says, “let’s get out of here.”

I catch a strong hint of nervousness in my friend’s voice. I look across the change room to where he’s doing his best not to stare, but still being obvious about it.

Richard saunters into the locker area from the showers, naked except for the goggles around his neck and his skimpy Speedo. Richard is the resident bully here at college — the jock who thinks he’s better than everyone for the simple fact that he’s a jock.

And what a jock he is. Though I detest the man, I take in his glorious body. His pecs are defined, his arms are corded with muscle, his abs are tight like a washboard, his legs are powerful, and that ass … that ass is divine. But I force myself to tear my eyes away. Richard is also a raging homophobe — and he knows that Alex and I are gay.

I quickly drop my pants, doing my best to change into my swim gear as fast as Alex is doing, hopefully fast enough that we can escape before Richard has a chance to utter a single epithet in our direction.

“Have you ever wanted to get back at him?” I murmur at Alex.

“What?” He sounds confused. “How do you mean?”

“I’ve been working on something. You know Alex’s dorm is next to mine, right? His bed is on the other side of the wall between us. Well, when he’s sleeping, I’ve been pressing my computer speakers against the wall—”

“Hey! Faggots!” Richard shouts at us and immediately starts walking our way. His face is contorted with both anger at who we are and glee at the torture he plans to put us through. “Who let you cocksuckers in here?”

“Let’s just go,” Alex says, grabbing his pants to pull them on over his swim shorts.

“No,” I say. I keep my eyes on Richard as he approaches, but in my peripheral vision, I can see Alex hesitate, unsure if he should keep getting changed or follow along with me. “You got a problem with us, Richard?”

Alex lets out a gasp, seemingly stunned that I would confront the bully like this.

“Fucking right I’ve got a problem, fag. I don’t want you pussies getting boned up for me. You should just go fuck each other and stay away from the pool. Seeing you here makes me want to fucking mess you up.” Richard’s words are laced with that same mix of anger and glee.

I don’t think he would actually hit us or harm us. I think he just likes intimidating others and we’re easy targets for his fragile ego.

But this is it — this is the moment I test if my weeks of careful planning and work have been successful. I take a deep breath and wait until Richard comes within spitting distance. God, he’s a gorgeous man. Seeing him this naked and this close is causing all the blood to drain from my head and gather in my dick. I need to keep my wits about me.

“You got something you wanna say to me, fag?” Richard says.


Richard looks at me like I’m speaking Russian. Other than that, nothing changes. Fuck, did it not work? Did my weeks of planning result in nothing? My heart races as panic sets in. Alex was right, we should have just gotten dressed and left.

“What?” Richard says. And in that moment, it’s like my heart stops. Maybe my plan didn’t fail. Maybe he honestly didn’t hear the trigger word.

“Checkerboard,” I say again, louder.

And a heartbeat later, it’s like a light flicks off in Richard’s head. The anger evaporates and so, too, does his intelligence. His eyes look vacant and all muscle tension seems to disappear from his body.

I poke him in the middle of the forehead, but nothing happens. He doesn’t react.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Hypnotizing The Straight Jock.