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.

“Checkerboard.”

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.

Excerpt From “Taking My Dad’s Hot Load”

Here’s an excerpt from Taking My Dad’s Hot Load.

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

I love coming, especially the moment before I know I’m gonna shoot it all over myself. I love the way it’s hot as it hits me and my cock tingles with every spurt. Stroking myself now and feeling the pleasure stir, I’m already excited about doing it again.

I pull my boxers down a little, enough to free my cock and wrap my hand around it. I click to another video of a guy banging a girl bent over on hands and knees. This is one of my favorites. I fast forward to 12:34, when he moans and then pulls out, beating off and blasting his load all over her pussy.

I’m kind of grossed out by pussy, but it doesn’t matter. When I see all that hot cum shooting from a stiff cock I get so excited about doing it myself. The guy in the video groans as his load finishes off and now I’ve got my boxers slipped right down to my thighs. I’m stroking my cock with a tight fist and it’s getting darker red.

I get into the rhythm of it, groaning as the pleasure builds, clicking to different feeds. My cock is turning beet red and I’m gonna blow my load, but I hold it back a bit, drawing out the sensations more and more.

The vacuum stops. The low audio sounds twice as loud and I notice how cold the air in the room is on my bare torso.

I’m so close. I’m not stopping. Fuck it, Dad never comes into my room anyway.

I click back on the video of the guy coming on the girl’s pussy, then jerk fast and hard. I fixate on his dick, the way it pumps all the juice out, the way the cum drips down her thighs, the way the guy’s butt is strong and full of hair. Oh God, yeah, I’m gonna shoot my load now. Fuck, it’s gonna shoot so hard and feel so good. Ohhh…

“What’s going on?” Dad’s voice, from behind me.

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

Dominating Daddies: A Dad/Son Gay Incest 4-Pack Bundle

Dominating-Daddies-600Dominating Daddies: A Dad/Son Gay Incest 4-Pack Bundle

Sometimes boys need dominating — and there’s no better man to give it to them than their fathers. For a boy, his father is the man he looks up to, admires, loves, respects, and trusts. So when a father ties up his son, spanks him, and punishes him, a proper son allows it to happen. An obedient son is thankful.

In this bundle of four hot dad/son incest stories from Master Dominic, you’ll find four boys who are subservient to their fathers, who will cater to their every disciplinary wish. From spankings to being tied up in chains, from ball gags to suspension, from extra kinky to downright painful, these four boys will learn the true meaning of BDSM — and the true joy of gay sex — from the one man they love the most, their fathers.

Dominating Daddies is a 14,000-word bundle that includes the following previously published stories: Punished By Daddy, Dominated By Dad, Disciplined By My Dad And My Principal, and Father Son Bondage.

Barnes & Noble | Excitica | Smashwords

Excerpt from “Father Son Bondage”

Here’s an excerpt from Father Son Bondage.

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

Dad looks around the campsite with a grin, then his eyes settle on me. I suddenly feel hotter and a new burst of sweat peppers my forehead, but it has nothing to do with the oppressive August heat. He breaks our eye contact long enough to peel off his sweat-soaked shirt. Fuck. He’s hairy and muscular — just like the Dom in the video he caught me watching.

“Take off your shirt, son. It’s scorching,” he says.

Without a word, I do as he suggests, revealing my slim twink frame. My chest is smooth and hairless, tight and skinny, basically the complete opposite of dad. He leans down and opens the cooler, pulling out two cans of beer. He offers one to me.

“Seriously?” I say. While legally an adult, I’m still a couple years from drinking age. Mom and dad have always been strict on that.

“Yeah. It’ll be our secret.”

I take it from him, a surge of heat and eroticism passing between us as our fingertips briefly touch. I crack open the can and take a careful sip, the cold beer instantly cooling down my overheated body. I wince slightly at the bite of alcohol, but recover quickly and have a second sip.

“Take it slow,” dad says. “You should take it easy if this is your first one.” Then dad sets up our two lawn chairs, side by side, facing the woods, to where we can just see the glimmer of a lake through the trees. He sits in one of the chairs and pats the other one, beckoning me to join him.

I quickly sit next to him, our arms only inches from each other, and shift in my seat, struggling to hide the bulge in my shorts. Dad takes a sip of his beer and then rests his hand on his crotch — and that’s when I notice the massive bulge he’s sporting. My eyes almost bug out as I take in the sheer size of it. He catches me staring and I look back toward the lake, my cheeks burning hot.

I take another sip of beer — anything to avoid eye contact with dad. I can already feel it going to my head, making my thinking a little foggy. As I raise the can to take yet another sip, dad puts his hand on my arm.

“Don’t get drunk,” he says. “I have a question for you and I want you to be sober for your answer.”

I put the can down in the little holder in the armrest of my lawn chair. I can’t tell where this is going — I know it has something to do with him catching me jerking off, but beyond that, I don’t know. In the silence that passes between us, I finally look up at him. His eyes are serious, yet caring.

“Do you want my dick?” dad asks.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Father Son Bondage.

Excerpt from “Disciplined By My Dad And My Principal”

Here’s an excerpt from Disciplined By My Dad And My Principal.

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

“Please, dad, let me fix it,” I beg.

Suddenly, he grabs the front of my shirt and holds it in his fist. “You can’t fix this, son,” he growls.

“Let’s keep this civil,” Mr. Marks interjects.

But dad doesn’t hear my principal. Dad’s eyes are boring into mine and I wither under his scrutiny.

“This calls for discipline,” dad says. Before I can figure out what he means and before Mr. Marks can stop dad, I’m pulled over dad’s knee and the back of my pants and briefs are pulled down below my ass.

I’m ass-up over dad’s knee in my principal’s office.

“Mr. Petersen!” my principal shouts.

Smack! Dad spanks me right as the principal throws himself to his feet. I squeeze my eyes shut and ride out the pain, until it dulls to a sting.

“Mr. Petersen — stop this right now!”

Dad growls ferociously, sounding more deadly than a grizzly bear. “This is what he needs. Do not question my parenting methods.”

Dad’s anger seems to have quieted the principal. He settles down, sitting on the edge of his desk. I turn my head to glance up at him and he looks me with pity in his eyes, but then I see his gaze run down my body and settle on my smooth, exposed, round ass … and then his eyes widen with desire.

Fuck. I’m fucked.

Maybe I’ll get fucked, the very dirty part of my mind wonders. I shove that perverted thought aside right as dad brings his hand down on my ass again.

Smack!

Dad spanks me several more times — each slap stinging more than the one before. My ass feels like it’s on fire, like each new spank is a fiery hot brand being applied to my ass. I shout in pain until dad commands me to shut up and I’m forced to bite my lip to stop from screaming. Tears are falling from my eyes.

Then dad stops and I hear him panting, seeming to be out of breath from the vigorous punishment.

“Your turn,” he growls.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Disciplined By My Dad And My Principal.

Excerpt from “Pissing My Diaper”

Here’s an excerpt from Pissing My Diaper.

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

“Hold it,” he commands.

I like to call him my daddy, given our thirty year age difference, and he likes to call me his son. It adds a taboo edge to our kinky play that heightens the heat of the moment.

“Yes, daddy,” I say.

If my frat brothers could see me know, they’d kill themselves laughing. Or they might beat me up for being a fag, then laugh when I’ve got a broken nose. But they have their kinks and I have mine — even though mine are, well, a little weirder.

Daddy walks in a circle around me again. He’s wearing a suit and tie that fit him snugly, accentuating his bulging muscles and gargantuan basket. After circling me, he walks over to the counter that divides the kitchen from the living room and grabs another bottle of water, bringing it over to me.

“Drink” he says, handing me the bottle.

I take it from him, put it to my lips, and tilt my head back, guzzling down the whole bottle in ten seconds flat. I let out a little burp, then hand him the empty bottle. That’s the sixth one I’ve downed in the last ten minutes. He has six more sitting on the counter.

He takes the bottle and puts it next to the other empties, but before grabbing the next full one, he comes over to me. He places his hand on my bare stomach, rubbing smooth circles over my abs.

“How are you doing, son?” he asks, his voice a mix of tenderness and domination.

“I’m okay, daddy, but I’m gonna have to piss soon.”

“Mmm,” he says, and moves his hand lower down, massaging my bulge through the adult diaper I’m wearing. The rest of me is naked and my skin is chilled. Daddy likes to keep the temperature low when I’m in my diaper, so that my nipples turn hard and the heat of a soon-to-be-wet diaper contrasts so much more. “Hold it until I say. Understood, boy?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Over the next ten minutes, daddy makes me drink the last six bottles of water. My stomach is so full it’s bulging, making sloshing noises with every movement I make. I can feel the water as it snakes through my gut and settles in my bladder. Like a water balloon, my bladder expands and expands, soon reaching the point where I start to worry it’s going to burst.

“Daddy?” I ask.

“Yes, son?”

“I really need to pee.”

“Hold it, boy. I told you to hold it.” Daddy sits down on the couch, the fabric of his pants stretching taut over his leg muscles and his thick bulge. I watch him as he gropes himself, wishing he would open his fly and let his cock hang out. I wish daddy would make me suck it and eat all the cum that he shoots out.

Fuck, my overwhelming need to piss interrupts my train of thought and overtakes me. I really need to go, to just let it all flood out. My bladder is so full it hurts. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead, feeling extra cold in this cool room, and I start shifting from foot to foot, simply unable to stand still.

I’m holding it for the mere fact that daddy told me to. If it weren’t for him, or if I was a bad boy, I would’ve pissed in my diaper by now.

“Please, daddy,” I beg. “Please, let me pee.”

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

Excerpt from “Pissing My Pants In Public”

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

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

“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.