Blood Stone Excerpt


“Come outside, Joshua Stanton.” The voice was quiet, its low timbre promising release and an end to Josh’s exhausted struggle. “Open the door and step onto the porch. Let me kiss you, taste your blood, compare yours to that of your man’s.”

Josh shuddered awake and staggered to his feet, his hands tight on the barrel of the musket. His eyes were gritty from sleep and he couldn’t focus on where he was for a long, frightening moment. Then, in a rush, it all came back to him: Dex had escaped from Balthazar, and they had taken refuge in the Belkin’s Pass church along with Sergeant Maxwell and his few remaining soldiers. And he had fallen asleep during guard duty.

“Come to me,” the calm, deep voice beckoned. “Step outside, join me.”

Josh peered through the narrow gap in the boards nailed over the window behind him. “Never, you foul monster. Leave us.”

A deep chuckle floated in from the dark night beyond the glass. “You’re running out of time, Joshua. Your man is closer to vampire than human now. One mistake, one careless moment, and he will join me. We can end this now, tonight, and spare all those sleeping around you the pain of day after day of struggle. You are the one I want, not them. Come join me, teach me of this secret power, and live forever by my side. All you need do is open the doors.”

Josh shook his head as he scanned the dark shadows that hung around the empty buildings across the street. Would Belkin’s Pass ever be like it had once been? Filled with people and goods and commerce? He didn’t think so. It would be consumed by the prairie, abandoned and haunted. Right now, in the depth of night, surrounded by evil, Josh felt as if the whole country had forsaken them.

He gathered his courage from the corners of his soul and said, “I will never join you. We’ll come for you, you know.”

A pair of glowing red eyes appeared before him, and Josh stepped back, a gasp slipping from his lips. Before he could be caught by Balthazar’s stare and put under his spell, Josh looked away.

“Oh, I hope you come for me,” Balthazar whispered. “I do, indeed.”

Story Orgy Monday – January 13, 2014

Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! Let’s hope it stays a little warmer this week than last, eh? Here’s a little something to help put some sizzle into your morning routine. Today I’m continuing the story I started last week, but from another character’s point of view. Once the title pops out at me I’ll start posting it, but looks like this might be a longer story than I first thought. Ready?

This week’s prompt is: If I had my way —

And now, here’s the next chapter in my new untitled serial story…

Sheriff Billings adjusted the gun belt around his well-proportioned gut and nodded to Sam.

“Ready?” Billings asked, his voice a throaty growl.

Sam nodded back and stood to grab his hat from the hook behind him. “Where we stopping first? The Franklin farm or Riggs’s place?”

“Let’s go by Franklin’s first, try to rattle his cage a bit.” Sheriff led the way out into the heat of the afternoon and they both groaned as they got into the car that had sat baking in the sun.

“Too fuckin’ hot to do anything but sweat and fuck,” Billings said in the rote monotone Sam had come to know so well.

Story_Orgy_logoThe sheriff had a number of tried and true sayings for pretty much every situation, and Sam had heard all of them more than he cared to consider. After six years as deputy under Sheriff Hamish Billings, he had come to understand the man and, he sometimes admitted to himself in the dark of night as he lay all alone in his single bed, hate him as well.

“How are you going to start the questioning?” Sam asked. “All we got is a sketchy witness who says Riggs carried something rolled up out to his truck and drove to Franklin’s place.”

Billings shrugged one big, rounded shoulder. “Just going to ask about the weather and the farm, see if he’s planning on plowing those fields of his next season, maybe plant some seeds in dirt rather than Riggs’s asshole.”

Sam’s gut clenched and he turned away to look out the side window. The bluntness of Billings’s statement had caught him off guard, and he couldn’t help the images that exploded in his mind. Bryson Franklin, dark hair tangled and damp with sweat, braced between Daniel Riggs’s raised legs, gaze fixed on Riggs’s face as he pumped steadily into him. Sam’s cock shifted, threatening to harden into a painful embarrassment unless he got his thoughts under control.

“What?” Billings asked. “Did I shock your delicate sensibilities?” He turned off Main Street onto Route 71, a long stretch of two lane blacktop that cut through farmland on the way to the city where folks drove to go to Walmart and Target and see first run movies.

“No, you didn’t shock me,” Sam said with an embarrassed smile and shrug. “Just didn’t realize there was talk in town about Franklin and Riggs.”

“Shit,” Billings said with a snarl. “If I had my way, I’d haul ’em both in on indecency charges and lock ’em up. Do all of us a favor.”

Sam nodded and once again looked out the side window, trying hard to quell the trembling in his muscles as he watched the flat fields streak past. He had known he was gay since high school, but had hidden it away, even going so far as join in on the torment of the more effeminate boys in school. Now that he looked back on it, he was ashamed of his actions, but he’d wanted to divert any possible attention from himself, keep his friends from noticing the longer than normal stares at the boys of the football team, or the way his glances slid lower than most others in the showers after gym class, or how, the more he drank, the more often he touched his male friends.

He could have left town, moved away to some bigger city, or started over in another small town, but he loved living in Willow River. The open land and the wide blue sky felt like a part of him; if he left this town, it would feel like an amputation. He knew every crook in the river, every farm and who had owned it for the last five decades. He knew the layout of the four corners, each shop and diner and business, along with the alarm codes and back alleys. Willow River rolled through his veins along with his blood, it was home.

And, yet, he longed for things to be different. He wished he could love whoever he wanted, out in the open, without fear of name calling or violence. At night he imagined living with Bryson Franklin on the farm he had inherited from his grandparents. He fantasized about coming home to Bryson after a long day enforcing the law. Sam would help Bryson bring the fields back to life after they had lain fallow for so many years. They would talk about mundane things at the dinner table and, later, make love in the master bedroom upstairs. Sam could almost feel Bryson’s fluid movements as the man slid inside him, filled him, completed him. Sam had never been fucked before, never been with a man at all before, but he had some movies stashed away in his small apartment and he’d experimented as he’d watched them. He knew what he wanted Bryson to do to him, and what he wanted to do to Bryson as well.

“Fuckin’ faggots is what they are,” Billings said, hauling Sam out of his private thoughts and back into his stark reality. “Queers. Butt pirates.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” Sam assured him with an embarrassed, nervous laugh that he wished he could change instead to a tone of unacceptance. “You can lay off the names.”

Billings was quiet a long moment, then added, “Bone smokers.”

“Jesus, Hamish, I get it, okay?” Sam shook his head and looked away again, feeling the hot blush in his cheeks and the nervous churn of his stomach.

“What’s wrong with you? Scared they’ll take a liking to you?” Billings asked. “Try to convert you to playing for their team?”

“No,” Sam said with all honesty, “I ain’t scared of that at all.” He shrugged and looked at Billings. “I’m just trying to professional about it, avoid us a lawsuit. All I’m asking is how you’re going to approach them.”

“Them? You think they’ll be together?” Billings asked. He paused as if thinking about it, one corner of his mouth curled up in a sneer. “Think we’ll interrupt them packing fudge out in the barn with the other animals?”

Sam hung his head and let out a long breath, then took a deep one as he searched for, and found, his patience. “Sheriff. We got to treat them with respect.”

Billings snorted. “Respect? Like how they treat the natural law?” He slowed and turned into a dirt driveway and Sam read FRANKLIN on the metal mailbox before it was swallowed by dust and they had left it behind.

“Who’s to say what’s natural and what ain’t?” Sam asked in a quiet voice.

Billings stopped the car and crammed the transmission into Park before squinting at him. “The Bible’s to say, that’s who. What’s got into you today, deputy?”

Sam shook his head, glanced at the sheriff and then to the front door of the house. “Nothing’s got into me. Maybe just nervous to be questioning someone when we got nothing to go on.”

“We got someone who says there may have been foul play,” Billings assured him.

“He loaded something into the back of his truck and drove over here,” Sam said. “If that’s what we’re going on for questioning these days, we’re going to need to stop at every farm between here and Cheyenne.”

Billings shoved the car door open, and hot air swept into the car. “You just stand back and let me do most of the talking, okay? You watch for any tell tale signs he’s lying.”

The sheriff hauled himself out of the car and Sam stepped out on his side. He set his hat on his head, looked left and right across the open fields that surrounded the two story farm house, then fell in step behind Sheriff Billings as he walked toward the long, covered front porch. His nerves were stretched tight, laying right beneath his skin, the heat prickling along them, agitating them even further. As they trudged toward the porch, the sheriff’s boots kicked up small clouds of dust that the wind tore apart as Sam watched, feeling as if his guts mirrored the action.

How was he going to look Bryson Franklin in the eye and listen to Sheriff Billings question him needlessly? How was he going to live with himself if he didn’t speak up soon and shut down the prejudice he heard every day?

~ * ~

Well, there you go. I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. Leave a comment if you’d like (it’s always fun to get mail!), and then hop on over to the blogs of the other Story Orgy writers. Some of us may take a week or two off, but we’ll be around for the most part. Like our Story Orgy Facebook Page for details about all of our writing. Feel free to like my pages as well if you’re interested in becoming a true Hankie: Hank Edwards Facebook Page or the Venom Valley Series Page. Go ahead and give the other participating Story Orgy writers a read: Lee Brazil, Havan Fellows, Em Woods, and Jade Baiser. JR Boyd opted out of this round, but he should be back soon. Have a very good week and I’ll see you next Monday!


Story Orgy Monday – Reunion – The Return of the Story Orgy (NSFW)

1530317_630094113725241_1382229242_nGood Monday morning Orgiasts! Did you all have a good 2013? Your Story Orgy writers missed the weekly prompt challenge so much we decided to get back to it for the new year.

It’s been a long time for all of us, but let’s jump right into it, shall we? Today’s prompt is very appropriate for the first post in a year: He hadn’t seen him in a year.

Are you ready to go? I know I am! The lovely and talented Jade Baiser created the banner for us, incorporating all of our prompts from 2012, and she also put together the hot, moody pic you’ll see along the way. Thanks Jade! And now, here’s a little short I whipped up just for you, totally NSFW, just for you. Enjoy!


Hank Edwards

(c) 2014

Bryson wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm and leaned on the handle of the shovel to catch his breath. The sun was unforgiving, blasting the color from the surrounding fields. He’d peeled off his shirt some time ago and knew he’d regret it later when he discovered the sunburn, but it was just so hot. Too damn hot to be digging a grave.
But it had to be done. No one could find out.

He should have brought water along with him, but Bryson hadn’t been thinking very well. Everything had happened so fast.Story_Orgy_logo

As he bent back to his work, Bryson’s mind played it all over again.

He hadn’t seen him in a year, yet there stood Daniel on the worn boards of his front porch, hat in hand and a nervous smile on his handsomely chiseled face.

“Bryson,” Daniel had said with a nod.

“Daniel.” Bryson stood behind the screen door, trying to hide his nervousness and the unwelcome evidence of his attraction to the man. “Been a long time.”

“Year or more.” Daniel gestured to the door. “May I come in?”

Bryson hesitated. For a year he’d lived with the pain of Daniel’s rejection. Now, out of the blue, here he was on his porch, asking to be invited in. Despite his better judgement, Bryson gave a single nod and pushed open the door.
The combined scent of Daniel’s sweat mixed with the spicy tinge of his aftershave wafted over him and made Bryson shiver. He led Daniel down the shadowy hall to the kitchen.


“Whiskey?” Daniel asked.

Bryson lifted an eyebrow. “A little early, don’t you think?”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Daniel replied with that half smile that had first drawn Bryson’s attention.

“Good enough.” Bryson poured them each a drink and watched as Daniel slugged his down in a single gulp.

“I was an idiot,” Daniel said quickly, as if the burn of the whiskey going down had forced the words up.

Bryson sipped his drink and leaned back against the sink, arms crossed, lips pressed tight together.

“You were the best thing to ever happen to me,” Daniel continued. His gray eyed gaze met Bryson’s own, darted away, and came back, like a timid woodland critter. “I had it all with you, and I didn’t realize it until you’d left.”

“Took you a year to figure it out?” Bryson asked.

Daniel nodded. “A miserable year.” He stepped closer. “Can we try again? Start over?”

Bryson sipped his whiskey. “What if I’ve moved on?”

That seemed to come as a surprise to Daniel, and Bryson had to admit he enjoyed the look of shock on his ex’s face.

“Have you?”

Bryson tipped up one shoulder in half a shrug. “Maybe. Had some offers.”

“Oh?” The half smile was back on Daniel’s handsome face, making the crow’s feet more prominent on that side.

Fuck, but he was attractive. Dark hair shot with silver, same as the stubble across his suntanned face. Those gray eyes that always watched Bryson so closely, seemed to drink in the sight of him stretched nude across the bed, or standing in the shower, or in the chill, rose-tinted light of dawn as he waited for the coffee.

“Offers from who?” Daniel asked.

Bryson gave him a half smile of his own. “Men.”

Daniel moved to within a foot of him, the heat from his body washing over Bryson, soaking into him, making him even harder.

The kiss that followed surprised Bryson. He hadn’t expected things to move quite so fast. Daniel’s tongue tasted of whiskey and cigarettes, and the press of the man’s large, warm palm against Bryson’s crotch pushed a moan up from someplace in the center of him that had been silent for much too long.

Daniel tossed his hat on the counter as they kissed, then wrapped his arms around Bryson, to pull him up tight. Bryson’s head spun and for a moment he thought he might pass out. The taste of Daniel’s mouth, the scratch of his stubble, the smell and feel of him made it feel as if the past year of solitude had all been a bad dream.

“I’ve missed you,” Daniel said between kisses. “Real bad.”

Bryson kept his head enough to pull back and say, “Prove it.”

In moments, they both were nude, cocks swinging and slapping together, hands groping, searching out familiar spots of pleasure. Daniel moved them until Bryson’s legs touched the edge of the long, wood table and he stretched out along it. In one long, smooth move, Daniel took Bryson’s cock into his mouth, all the way to the root.

“Oh, fuck!” Bryson shouted.

Daniel sucked him hard and deep for a time, then shifted position so he could continue his oral attentions as his cock stood out over Bryson’s face, an open invitation. Bryson pursed his lips and slid them back and forth along the length, then took the swollen, succulent head into his mouth. They sucked each other hungrily, until Bryson let Daniel’s dick drop from his mouth and lifted his legs to expose his hole.

“Fuck me,” Bryson said, hearing the desperate, needy tone in his voice and not caring. “I want you inside me.”

With strong hands, Daniel pulled Bryson to the edge of the table, lined himself up, and slid his hard timber of a cock inside.

“Fuck, I’ve missed being inside you,” Daniel said, his eyes glazed with lust as he stared down into Bryson’s face. “I’ve thought about you so much this past year.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Bryson instructed through gritted teeth.

Daniel smiled at him, a full on, mega watt smile that cracked the wall Bryson had built around his heart the past twelve months.

“As you wish,” Daniel said. He snapped his hips back and forth, pounding into Bryson as sweat ran through the dark and silver hair on his chest and the kitchen was filled with the ripe smell of their union.

Bryson knew it wouldn’t take him long, and it didn’t. He stroked himself to a splattering climax, the semen mixing with his sweat as he grunted and his muscles clenched and released along Daniel’s length.

“Fuck, that’s so fuckin’ hot,” Daniel said with a moan. He grabbed Bryson’s ankles tight and fucked him harder, until, finally, he screwed up his face in that familiar way and grunted as he pushed in even deeper and let loose inside him.

Daniel collapsed on top of him, breathing heavy, his body coated in well-earned sweat. As he caught his breath, Daniel eased out of Bryson, leaving him empty once again, his insides coated with his offering.

“Missed you, so much,” Daniel whispered, and kissed Bryson’s nipple, then moved up to his lips.

“Me, too,” Bryson said.

They cleaned up in the shower together, taking their time, soapy hands getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies. It wasn’t until they had dried off that Daniel told Bryson, “I don’t want you to think this is the reason I came by, but I need some help.”

A cold spot formed in the center of Bryson’s body, right in his gut. It spread slowly through him as he stared into Daniel’s eyes.

1511197_500655096719374_839366830_n“Oh?” He was proud of the fact that his voice didn’t shake. “What do you need help with?”

“A body.”

*     *     *

“How’s it going out here?”

Daniel’s question pulled Bryson from his memories, and he looked around at the man. His shirt was open, exposing the hair-covered expanse of his torso, and Bryson watched a ball of sweat roll past his nipple and on down his skin to disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Almost done,” Bryson replied. He lifted his chin toward the truck he could parked in the driveway. “Did you bring it?”

Daniel nodded. “I got it. Look, Bryson, I really appreciate the help with this. You gotta believe me, it was all in self-defense.”

Bryson turned back to his work, standing in the hole that would soon be the final resting place of a man, a drifter, per Daniel’s explanation, someone Daniel had taken home from the bar and who, afterwards, had tried to rob him. A fight had followed, the gun had gone off, and Daniel had stumbled back from the man, watching in horror as he had collapsed and died.

“I believe you,” Bryson said, and tossed out one more shovelful of dirt before extending a hand for Daniel to help him out. He leaned in and kissed Daniel hard on the mouth, hand cupping the bulge in his jeans.

“After we finish, we’re going to clean up and then it’s my turn to drive.”

The spark of greedy lust in Daniel’s eyes matched perfectly with the cock stiffening beneath Bryson’s palm.

“You got it, Bryson,” Daniel said. “Now and every night from here on out.”

Bryson grinned. “We can trade off turns in the driver’s seat. But be warned, I drive fast and reckless.”

“I remember,” Daniel assured him. He took Bryson’s hand and they started toward the truck as Daniel said, “Oh, trust me, I remember.”

~ * ~

Well, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the first post of the new year. Leave a comment if you’d like (it’s always fun to get mail!), and then hop on over to the blogs of the other Story Orgy writers. Some of us may take a week or two off, but we’ll be around for the most part. Like our Story Orgy Facebook Page for details about all of our writing. Feel free to like my pages as well if you’re interested in becoming a true Hankie: Hank Edwards Facebook Page or the Venom Valley Series Page. Go ahead and give the other participating Story Orgy writers a read: Lee Brazil, Havan Fellows, Em Woods, and Jade Baiser. JR Boyd opted out of this round, but he should be back soon. Have a very good week and I’ll see you next Monday!


Deanna Wadsworth’s Naughty North Pole Blog Hop – Day 21

Countdown to Christmas with Pip

21 days and counting

Hey everybody! How are you out there in the world? I’m so excited Jorge asked me to help with his blog blitz, and I’m even more excited to be on Hank Edward’s blog. But before I go fan-girl on Hank, my name is Pip. You may  DW_Pips boxing day wish_MDremember me from Deanna Wadsworth’s holiday series, THE NAUGHTY NORTH POLE. I first appeared in MS. CLAUS’S LIST, then I got my happily ever after in PIP’S BOXING DAY WISH.

Since then I feel like I’m living in a dream! I don’t wanna be one of those elves who wax on about their boyfriends all the time, but Erik is ah-may-zing!! Make sure you mark your calendars for Dec. 11th. There will be an exclusive FREE SHORT STORY on Daily Dose of Decadence featuring me and Erik. It’s going to be a Christmas Eve my lover will never forget. I’m excited about my surprise I planned for him. He’s always spoiling me, and I want to return the favor. He took me on a shopping spree last Christmas and we even got our picture taken with a mall Santa in A GIFT FOR SANTA. That was so fun! Most recently Erik bought me a new Kindle Fire, for no reason at all other than he loves me. Isn’t that awesome?! The first thing I did was download Hank’s Fluffers, Inc. I have to say, that sex-crazed Charlie sounds like he could be a Nordic Elf—even if he’s not lucky enough to have candy flavored cum!

Any who, George wanted me to talk a little bit about what’s going on at the North Pole, not talk about Erik the whole time. I just can’t help it though, he’s so hot!! But I do have some good news to share. I finally got that promotion to supervising shift manager in the Electronics Department. My nemesis Jimmy was not pleased. Ha! Too bad, so sad. I guess he should’ve developed the perfect dating app instead of always kissing up to the boss. I like to let my hard work do the talking for me, not my mouth.

In case you haven’t heard, I’ve developed a dating app called Elf4Elf, or E4E for short. It is really easy to use. Once you create a profile, you choose a girl/girl, boy/boy, or a mixed chat room and start meeting new elves that you have things in common with. I am happy to report 25 committed couples have come out of E4E. Some blabber mouths have deemed it a hook-up app, but that is not the purpose. It’s not another Grindr! E4E is designed for elves to find true love, just like I did with Erik.

In fact, one of those elves calling E4E a hook-up app is about to eat his words.

I’m talking about Lars, that cocky but sexy elf with the peanut-butter flavored cum from the previous  NAUGHTY Medium RudolphNORTH POLE books.

Even though I slept with Lars, I’ve always thought he was a jerk. He has this whole “I don’t fuck elves twice” motto and he struts around the Workshop like he’s a gift from the gods. Don’t tell Erik I said this, but Lars does have the goods to back up his cock-sure attitude. But then I read his story in FUN & GAMES WITH RUDOLPH and I realized he isn’t as tough as he pretends to be. And I’m happy to say, he gets his happy ending via Elf4Elf.

Told you it was a matchmaking app, not just a place to find a hook-up!

Well that’s all the time I have to chat. Thank-you, Hank, for hosting me!

I hope everyone has a Merry, merry Christmas!

If you enjoy the Countdown to Christmas blog series, catch a list of all the dates HERE. This Friday there will be a new post by none other than the star of FUN & GAMES WITH RUDOLPH, Lars at Kayla Jameth’s blog. Can’t wait to hear what he has to say. Wonder if he’ll give E4E any props?

Before you leave, make sure you enter to win the first three NAUGHTY NORTH POLE books and a $20 Amazon gift card in the entry box below.

Then check out an exclusive excerpt from FUN & GAMES WITH RUDOLPH just for Hank’s readers.


a Rafflecopter giveaway


 Naughty North Pole Book Four

 By Deanna Wadsworth


Lars is the sarcastic elf who runs Santa’s Mail Department and he follows the dating rule of “no repeats”. But lately he’s been having a romantic textlationship with another elf, via the dating app Elf4Elf. When his cyber boyfriend goes AWOL after a misunderstanding, Lars realizes too late that there is more to life than sex, work, and cookies.

On Christmas Eve, Santa asks Lars to personally deliver a gift to Rudolph—a former reindeer handler who left the North Pole because of a misunderstanding. Rudolph lives on the secluded Sugar Plum Ridge and the only way to get there is by sleigh. Lars just can’t get a break!

When a sudden blizzard forces the two elves to hole up in Rudolph’s cabin, will they find a way to make their own fun and games or will one surprise ruin it all?

One thing is certain: after this night, they both will believe in the magic of the Naughty North Pole!



 “I can’t wait for Christmas Eve,” Jorge said. “I’ve been talking to three guys on Elf4Elf. We’re all gonna hook up at the party.”

“Awesome,” I said. “Everybody loves a four-way.”

There were a half-dozen guys currently in the room and even a few girls I had experienced some sort of ménage with. Come to think of it, there weren’t too many around the North Pole I hadn’t fucked. I’d missed out on the big guy, Santa Claus, because he had to go and shack up with Jack Frost. But I had spent a memorable night with his twin sister, the one everyone mistook for his wife, Lady Frieda Claus.

That had been a night to remember.

Jorge scrolled through his phone. “This app Pip developed makes hooking up so easy.”

“Better not let Peppermint Boy hear you call it that.” I tipped my head toward the little blond sitting across the room with a Ljósálfr girl, giggling over their phones. Pip was a Light Elf who’d come to the North Pole via Santa’s Little Helpers Work Release Program, and a perfect example of how the system really did help elves with a second chance at a better life. He was a nice kid, but a tad on the hopeless-romantic side.

“Why?” Jorge asked.

E4E is not a hook-up app,” I said in a singsong voice, mimicking little peppermint Pip. “It’s a dating app to help elves find true love.”

After we made the appropriate gagging sounds and finger-down-the-throat gestures, Jorge laughed. “More like find a quick BJ. This elf from Álfheimr was delivering some supplies for the Sports Division last week, and he fucked the hell outta me in the broom closet. I didn’t even catch his name.”

Comments Off on Deanna Wadsworth’s Naughty North Pole Blog Hop – Day 21

Gay History Month Wilde City Press Blog Hop – These Friends of Mine


Wilde City Press authors are joining together to post each day of the month of October to celebrate Gay History. For my post, I decided to narrow it to a more personal view and write about three men who had more of an impact on my life than I could ever have imagined. Who knew, when I met each of them years apart, how it would all turn out? As we celebrate our history as a society, I’m looking back at my own gay history.

Before I left for college, my older sister (who is also gay and now has a partner and two children), took me to my bedroom away from our parents and had me watch a TV special about a new disease that was affecting gay men. It didn’t have a name yet; they were just calling it the “Gay Cancer.” When I left for college, she wanted me to be careful, to take precautions, to stay healthy. I took her words to heart, and I stayed safe, probably a little too safe for my college years, but that’s another story altogether. For now, let’s just say I went to college where the first of many life-changing meetings took place.


My sophomore year, I had a new roommate, Jeff. He was handsome and outgoing and athletic and I got along with quite well. Jeff joined a gymnastics group and one night, with nothing else to do, I went along with him to watch. A tall, broad-shouldered, gregarious man caught my eye as he did cartwheels and backflips across the mat, and I admit I swooned a bit when Brian introduced himself. His legs were strong and he had a quick smile and a loud laugh. He and Jeff soon became good friends, which meant I became Brian’s friend as well. Everyone Brian met became his friend. As it turned out, Brian and I became closer friends than he and Jeff did, and though Brian dated a few girls and said he was straight, I stubbornly told him I had a crush on him. He kindly rebuffed me and we remained friends.

When he graduated the year ahead of me, Brian went off to work on a cruise ship for a year and see the world. I made my way through my final year of college with a few letters from him (no email or cell phones back then), which was a treat, as Brian didn’t like to write. His family lived in a nicer area than I had growing up, but it was close by, and when he came home from his year abroad, we hung out. I told him about my nights out at the gay bars around town, explained the differences between them (natural wood versus art deco). One night when we were out to dinner, Brian told me he was gay, that he had lied to me in college. As we talked, a man approached our table, handsome in a shirt and tie with suspenders, and asked if Brian had gone to his college. I sat, stunned, still trying to take in the fact that he was gay, as Brian said “No,” and the man walked away. Later, Brian dropped me off at my parents’ house and went to a bar he frequented where he ran into that same man, and they went home together. Soon after that, they moved in together.

A year later, Brian came by and took me to dinner again and told me he was HIV+, and my world fell apart.


Before Brian came out to me, I had decided I needed to take some time before finishing my degree (English, go figure) and moved home to live with my parents. I got a job at a local music store chain, where I met John. He was tall with handsome French Canadian features, dark hair cut into a flat top, and a soft, bushy mustache. He was older, had been around the bar scene for a long time, and had a wonderfully wicked dark sense of humor. He was also a talented musician and singer, and I loved listening to him sing around the store. One night as he was out at the bar, he met a man, Mark, and before long had moved in with him. John set up a studio in the basement and worked more seriously on his music. What I didn’t realize was how much he drank, and how often, and was surprised when he ended up in the hospital with pancreatitis. It was then he discovered he was HIV+, and after hearing that diagnoses, Mark shared with me that he was, as well.

John struggled with his drinking, some months doing well, others not so much. One day while I was at work, having left the record store for a job in the automotive industry, Mark called to say John was sick, very sick, and he needed to get him to the hospital. I left work and drove to their house, still wearing my shirt and tie. John was thin, so thin, and didn’t seem to be able to speak, he just sat and stared. He was unable to make himself move, and I had to drag him out the door and through the snow to my car, not once wondering why they didn’t call an ambulance (perhaps afraid of how they would be treated). I remember all the little details of that day, how John’s jeans slid down his hips, how light he was in my arms but heavy, too, dead weight. I managed to get him in the front seat and buckled in and then helped Mark to get in the backseat. At the hospital, John didn’t want to sit in the wheelchair to be rolled inside, and I stood in front of him, met his eyes, and talked him down into the chair, gently prying his fingers off the top of the car door. I spent time with each of them, and before I left, went in to say goodbye to John, and he blew me a kiss.

It was the last time I saw him. I got a call the next day that his body was shutting down. I went to the hospital and sat with his family as they took him off life support and he slipped away, on January 9, 1993, just days after I had returned from a trip to Atlantic City with Brian to celebrate New Year’s. Mark and I held each other as we cried, and I promised him I wouldn’t let him be alone.


I found out after he had died that John had written me a song. Mark gave me John’s notebook and in it was a song titled “Real Job,” an upbeat dance number with lyrics encouraging me to become a writer, to ignore my family’s insistence I get a “real job” instead. I visited Mark often, and he paid for me to accompany him on a trip to Palm Springs where the heat unfortunately wore him out too much, and we had to leave earlier than planned. During this time, we watched the TV show “Life Goes On” together, which featured an actor with Down Syndrome as well as Jesse, a character with HIV, a first for television. During one of Jesse’s medical emergencies, Mark and I both broke down sobbing as it was just too close to real life.

Mark and I became friends in that final year, and he asked me to take his beloved orange tabby, Tom, an amazing cat. Mark and I traded books, and he introduced me to Michael Crichton as well as a number of other authors. In March the year after John died, Mark went to the hospital and stayed for two weeks. I watched Tom and took care of his house, calling him often to assure him things were fine and I’d visit soon. Then, on the spring equinox, as Brian and his partner were on a cruise, Mark passed away. I never got to say goodbye to him, and I was stunned. John’s will had never been finalized, and I became the executor of that, and owner of John’s items as well as Tom. Mark had left me a good amount of money in his life insurance, enough for a down payment on the house where I still live with my partner.

Brian went on AZT, but it made him very sick. One night I rubbed his back as he leaned over the toilet, vomiting up what little he’d eaten as he moaned, “I fucked up bad this time. I really fucked up bad.” I had nothing to say other than I was there for him. He lived another year and a half after that. He lost weight and energy, and it was difficult to connect the man I had met in the gymnastics room at college all those years ago with the man I knew now. When Brian went into hospice, I told myself it was only to build up his strength so he could return home again, but two weeks later, a week before his 32nd birthday, I got a call from Brian’s partner at midnight and drove out to the hospice center to be there when he took his last breath. I was 30 years old and had lost my three best friends within three years’ time.

Two months later, I met Fred, my partner to this date, and I sometimes wonder if there wasn’t some kind of spiritual guidance in our meeting. Whatever it was, my life is so much better than I had imagined. And I still smile at the memories with my friends who taught me more about life than I could have ever hoped to learn. And even though I still hold a “real job,” I’m now a published author, and wherever John is these days, I know he’s happy for me and beaming that big smile beneath his bushy mustache.

~~ * ~~


Cowboys Vampires Excerpt

C&V 200x300

The grief and loss sitting heavy in his chest ripened into self-pity, and Josh decided he had done enough thinking for one day. He used an old broomstick to beat the spiders and mice from the thin mattress of the tall, heavy wooden bed set off in the corner. Keeping the rifle by his side, Josh lay down, blew out the candle, and closed his eyes. He shifted position several times, trying to find a comfortable spot on the old mattress, but sleep wouldn’t relieve him of his thoughts. Finally, he sighed and rolled onto his back, his hand cupping the bulge in his trousers as he thought again about Dex.

He could picture Dex: tall, broad-shouldered, thick, dark hair, and eyes the blue of a clear autumn sky. Beyond his physical traits, however, Dex had a good heart. He had protected Josh all through their school years, and it had been no surprise to Josh when Dex had become a deputy. Dex was, above all else, a very good man, and Josh had fallen in love with him over the years. He wanted more than anything to lay with Dex, to feel the heat of the man’s body lying beside him, covering him, feel the prickling brush of Dex’s whiskered jaw as they kissed.

Josh unbuttoned his trousers and took himself in hand. He closed his eyes, and the familiar fantasy played out in his mind. Dex above him, kissing him roughly, his tongue insistent as it filled Josh’s mouth. Josh would feel drops of Dex’s sweat fall from the man’s forehead as Dex thrust the hardened length of his cock into him. Josh had never done this with a man, but he very much wanted to with Dex. He wondered what it would feel like to take Dex inside him, to feel him push past the tight ring of muscle and burrow deep inside.

Josh had experimented sometimes, pushing his fingers deep inside himself, pretending it was Dex instead, gasping as his stroke quickened. He could imagine Dex rearing up as he pushed deep into Josh, his body on the edge of climax. Dex would reach down and take Josh’s cock in his big, calloused hand and Josh would gasp and buck beneath him. Dex’s cock would pin him to the mattress, pumping into him as Dex’s hand coaxed the fluttering tingle of orgasm up from Josh’s balls. They would come together, Dex loosing his seed deep inside Josh as Josh’s semen spilled onto his chest and belly.

With a deep, lustful grunt, Josh came hard. The first shot landed on his cheek, and he gasped at the hot splash of it. When he was spent, Josh lay panting, eyes closed, anxiety melting away in the calming wake of his orgasm. He felt himself slipping into sleep and, though he knew he should clean up first, he stayed on the bed and pulled the old blanket over himself to keep back the chill night air.

Memories disguised as dreams came to him. Flickering images of Agnes as she lurched across the sitting room spun through his mind. He could feel his rifle in his hands but the lever had jammed open. He looked down at the rifle as he backed away and when he looked up again, Agnes stood right in front of him. She reached out and her fingers dug hard into his arms. He struggled to escape but she held tight. Her head pulled back, mouth dropping open wide, wider still, exposing row after row of teeth that glistened in the yellow light of the oil lamp.

Then she dropped her mouth to his neck. Josh screamed as he felt her teeth sink deep into his flesh. He could feel his skin and muscle tear, the hot splash of blood, hear the hungry moan as Agnes tore a raw, slick piece from him.

He awoke screaming, legs kicking, arms flailing. The rifle clattered to the floor beside the bed and Josh sat up, eyes wide, heart pounding. He was covered in sweat and dried semen; dust and dirt clung to his skin in a greasy paste.

As his breathing slowed, Josh looked around the room, picking out shapes and staring at them until the items revealed themselves: the chest of drawers; a trunk; the chair where he had draped his shirt.

The terror of his nightmare seeped from his system and he swallowed hard past the dry residue of it lodged in his throat like a clod of dirt. He leaned over the edge of the bed, fingers reaching for the rifle where it lay in a patch of moonlight that spilled in from the window by the bed.

Then a quiet voice spoke from the shadows: “Let me in.”

Roughed Up Excerpt

Roughed Up

The breeze off the ocean was warm and smelled of brine and fish and fading sunlight. Pearce couldn’t recall a time when he’d been this relaxed and content. After their earlier friction, it felt good to just sit together and not talk. The afterglow of sex seemed to keep Mark and him in a cocoon apart from the other diners around them on the restaurant patio, and Pearce relished the moment.

As they ate, Pearce caught himself staring at Mark, watching the man’s face as he stared across the beach and out to the sea. Pearce liked to think he knew Mark well by now and that Mark knew him also. They had been through some dangerous things together, like the Kings of Rebellion plot back in Detroit, which had first brought them together, and the missing data discs in Washington, DC, which had made them realize they really were good together.

Pearce figured they had earned these eight days in Barbados. He tried not to think about being on paid suspension from the FBI for having disobeyed orders and gone out into the field. Once they returned home, he’d have another five days off before he had to return to the office and his work, performing data searches for agents in the field.

Tension crackled up the back of his neck, and Pearce forced thoughts of DC and the FBI out of his mind and went back to eating. The sea bass was fresh and the red-skin potatoes perfectly seasoned. He needed to focus on the moment and enjoy being here, with Mark, full and content in the warm evening on the beach.

He looked across the table in time to catch a shadow of a frown cross Mark’s face. At first, Pearce wondered if it hadn’t been caused by the flickering candle between them, but then he saw it again along with Mark’s wrinkled brow and slightly narrowed eyes. Something was on Mark’s mind, something troubling, and Pearce hoped it didn’t have to do with the comment he had made earlier about Mark’s fondness for carrots in the dishes he made. Pearce didn’t feel strongly about carrots one way or the other, but he didn’t think they really needed to be included in every meal. And why the fuck was he thinking about how often Mark added carrots to their food, anyway? Was he back to his old tricks now, trying to find something that annoyed him about Mark? He had thought he’d gotten through that phase with him, but maybe he’d just managed to put it into remission for a while.

Either way, from the expression on his face, Mark’s thoughts had taken a darker turn, and Pearce wondered where they had gone. Maybe Mark was feeling the same way Pearce was.

Stakes Spurs Excerpt


Dex lay sweating and restless, in the middle of a dream filled with feverish images of burning red eyes and sharp-edged shadows in candlelight. Interspersed among these visions, Dex saw flashes of Josh’s face, the man’s brow furrowed in concentration, eyes focused on a spot beyond Dex’s sightline. A man stepped into view, tall and handsome in an Army uniform. This stranger’s dark-eyed gaze was locked on Josh’s face and the intensity of his stare made jealousy flare within Dex’s chest. A steaming rage coursed through him, pushing his jealousy higher and higher. There was something between Josh and this new arrival, something Dex didn’t like, and even though Dex stood right beside Josh, it was as if Josh didn’t see him. Even when Dex opened his mouth to scream at Josh, beg him for help, Josh kept his attention on the tall man in the Army uniform.

The high-pitched screams of the woman deeper inside the cave woke Dex, brought him shivering and gasping out of his dream. His neck ached where Balthazar had bitten him, and when he sat up, a dizzying nausea rolled through him like a dark, humid breeze. Dex moaned and put his head in his hands, the chains on his wrists clanking quietly in the darkness.

He thought about the dream, felt the remnants of jealous rage slowly seeping out of him. It had felt as if he had been right there with Josh, watching him talk with the Army man. But Josh had ignored him, almost turned away from him. And Dex wondered just how real that interaction had been. Dex recalled the previous feelings he’d had about Josh, the comfort and relief he’d felt, and wished he could get that back again. In an effort to calm himself, he closed his eyes and thought about Josh, pictured his face, his smile, and the sound of his voice.

A change in the air around him shattered Dex’s concentration. He sucked in his breath and lifted his head to squint toward the opening to the cave’s chamber. Someone stood there, he could feel it even though he couldn’t see who it was.

“Who’s there?”

Something was different. It took a moment for Dex to realize the screaming had stopped. In its absence, the silence felt oppressive, like a living thing that took up too much space. He let out his breath and before he could pull in another, a strong hand grabbed him by the throat and easily lifted him off the floor. Dex kicked and reached up to pry at the cold fingers gripping him, but it was like trying to dig through stone. It was, of course, Balthazar. The cold of his body seemed to crawl from his fingers and into Dex’s skin.

“You’ve been keeping secrets from me,” Balthazar whispered.

“Don’t know what…” Dex started, but couldn’t draw in enough breath to finish. His lungs burned, demanding air.

“Your cowboy back in town is more powerful than I suspected,” Balthazar said. “I knew he was special, I could smell it in his blood, but I did not realize what gift he possessed. You never mentioned his ability to raise the dead.”

“Can’t breathe,” Dex choked out.

Balthazar made a small sound of disgust before releasing his grip. “You humans and your need for air and sunlight. You are such slaves to your bodies.”

Dex fell to his knees, coughing and gasping as he gulped in air. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he angrily wiped them from his cheeks as he glared into the darkness where he thought Balthazar still stood. “You have no room to speak of us with such contempt. You crave the darkness and feed on blood. Who are you to cast judgment with your damned soul?”

A match burst into life across the chamber, forcing Dex to squint and turn in surprise to see Balthazar lighting the candle near the entrance. The flame took and jittered in a bit of draft, throwing the vampire’s face into heavy shadow.

“You have steel inside you,” Balthazar murmured in a low, sensual voice. “I do admire that. And your devotion to Josh Stanton is admirable, if outside the acceptance of those you live among.” Balthazar approached him again, and Dex shrank back, averting his eyes. “Your blood is rich, Dexter Wells, hearty. I could make a meal of you, and I just might. Would you enjoy it if I stripped the skin from you? Peeled it away and swallowed it here before you?”

Dex had no spit in his mouth, and his voice cracked as he said, “No matter what you do to me, I will never become like you.”

“No?” Balthazar leaned a little closer. “Let’s find out.”

Shacked Up

Courtesy of Loose, Id

FBI Special Agent Aaron Pearce is recovering from his injuries suffered while on assignment in Detroit, stuck in the offices of the FBI running database searches for agents in the field. He is bored and edgy, and takes it out on those closest to him, including Mark Beecher, who lives with him.

While Mark cannot deny the heat between them, he struggles to find his place in Washington, DC, and in Pearce’s apartment. When he notices a car following him back and forth to work, he panics, certain it’s the terrorist mole Robert Morgan who escaped them in Detroit.

As Mark and Pearce try to identify the driver, Pearce is drawn into an investigation concerning the disappearance of data cards from government employees. His research reveals that the catering company where Mark works may be at the root of the thefts and, when the company is booked to cater a prestigious party, Pearce realizes it is the perfect setup for an undercover operation.

He doesn’t think twice about disobeying orders to stay out of the field, and risks not only his career, but his life as well, to join Mark in an undercover operation that will change their lives forever.

See Full Page

Story Orgy Road Trip – Part Five, Conclusion (NSFW)

Good Monday morning, and welcome to the last week of August. I bet all you parents out there are counting the days until school starts again! Soon, very soon…

Today I’m posting the conclusion of my Road Trip story, Cross Country Foreplay, written from prompts suggested by Myristica Onenine. Those prompts were a workaholic businessman, travel west coast to east coast, flash flood. After a few announcements, we’ll get on with the final post of Cross Country Foreplay.

To celebrate Breathless Press’s 3rd Birthday and the new website, Havan and Lee have some short free reads available for download. Did you get the fact that they are FREE?! Lee’s story, Nothing to Forgive, is HERE. And Havan’s Lucky Night, is HERE.

Em Woods’s story of love in desperate times, Holding On, is available HERE for download for VIP customers of Total e-Bound Books! Not a VIP customer? No worries, it’s available for pre-order as well, and will be released on September 17. Click on over and get your copy today!

And, have you downloaded Lee Brazil’s Naughty Nursery Rhyme, It’s Simple, Simon yet? It’s available from Breathless Press HERE.

Finally … Though we’re finishing up our summer Road Trip, your Story Orgy writers are ALWAYS planning ahead! We’re drafting something very special for the December holiday season- and we’d love to have your prompts. What we need from you is just a few words…a person (not a name), a place, and a thing…at least one item should be holiday related…for example…

person- Accountant
place- bank lobby
thing- gingerbread man

That’s it. Your prompts could be selected to inspire a story for And The Prompt Is, The Holiday Edition Volume 2.

Feel free to leave your suggestion in a comment here, or email it to storyorgy(at)ymail(dot)com.

Whew! Okay, that’s it! Rest stop is over, time to jump back in the station wagon and hit the open road! Thanks to the amazing Startled Monkeys Media for the cover to our Road Trip edition ebook. Wow, that’s a long, hot stretch of open road!

Cross Country Foreplay

Story Orgy Road Trip, Part Five (Conclusion)

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

 Chapter Fourteen

Preston slipped his phone out of his pants pocket and hit the top button to light it up. In the glow of the touch screen, he saw Brady backed into the corner, fingers tightly curled around the handrail. Brady blinked rapidly against the sudden light, his lips slightly parted as he pulled in quick, shallow breaths.

“Brady? Hey, look at me.” Preston stepped up close, reached out to touch his shoulder, but pulled back when Brady flinched away.

“Don’t,” Brady said, his gaze locked on a spot somewhere in the space between them. “Don’t touch me. I – I don’t like small spaces.”

“Okay, we’re okay. It’s going to be all right. You’re not alone. I’m right here with you and I am not afraid of small spaces, okay?” Preston eased closer. “I’m going to move up close to you. I’m not going to make you move or do anything you don’t want to do. I’m just going to stand beside you. I’m going to put my phone away again, so it’s going to get dark again. Are you ready?”

Brady gave a fast nod in the dim light, and Preston clicked his phone to standby. Darkness pounced on them again, and he heard Brady draw in a sharp breath.

“It’s okay,” Preston soothed. “It’s all right. We just lost power, that’s all. The elevator has safety brakes holding us in place, so we’re safe.” Slowly, very slowly, Preston sidled up beside Brady and put a hand on his shoulder. The man’s muscles were taut as high tension wires, his fingers locked onto the railings. With steady, gentle movements, Preston lightly rubbed Brady’s shoulder, gradually increasing the pressure until the muscles there loosened.

“Good, that’s good,” Preston whispered. Touching Brady, standing close to him and breathing in his scent mingled with the musk of his fear-sweat made Preston hard, really hard. Brady needed him. Right now, the young man Preston had fallen hard for on the drive, much harder than he could have expected, needed him. Brady was young, beautiful, and smarter than he gave himself credit for, and he had followed Preston into the elevator to convince him of his true feelings.

A wave of guilt washed through Preston. He had acted childish when he had seen Phillip’s text message. He had been hurt, true, his vanity and masculinity cut down by those few words. But they had not been typed by Brady. Preston should have given Brady a chance to explain, but all he’d wanted to do was run, just like all his other relationships. When he was hurt, when he felt overwhelmed, Preston fled instead of staying and working through the problem.

But not this time. This time, he was going to stay; Brady was worth it. And, Preston realized, he was worth it as well.

If only his cock wasn’t hard enough to poke right through the side of the elevator.

He closed his eyes in the dark and made himself push thoughts of sex from his mind. He needed to focus his energy on calming Brady’s fears.

“Keep relaxing,” Preston said, keeping his voice low and calm. He dug his fingers in a little harder, finding knots and roughing them out.

“Feels good,” Brady said. His voice was stronger, braver, and it made Preston’s cock jump.

Preston’s anger drained completely away, leaving behind regret and a mellow flame of hope. He had reacted out of hurt and embarrassment, and he needed to apologize to Brady. But was this the right time and place for that?

A shrill beeping cut through the darkness, making them both jump. A light on the elevator’s control panel flashed, catching Preston’s attention, and a moment later, a man’s voice came through the tiny speaker in the control panel. “Hello? Is someone in there?”

“Yes!” Brady shouted. “We’re here! Help us!”

Preston applied gentle pressure to a spot in Brady’s neck and he calmed somewhat. Clearing his throat, Preston said, “There are two of us in here. The lights are out.”

“Power’s out all over the city,” said the disembodied voice. The dim red light throbbed like a heartbeat. “The emergency light in that elevator burned out last week, sorry. It’s on our list to fix. Just so you know, fire and rescue are here now. But it’s going to be a few minutes until they can get to you.”

“Okay, we’ll be here,” Preston said. He turned and moved to kiss Brady softly on the lips, feeling him start at the sudden touch. Preston slid his mouth next to Brady’s ear and whispered, “I know what will relax you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Brady whispered back, his breath hot in Preston’s ear. “I’m sorry, Preston. I never said those things about you.”

“Shh,” Preston said. “I know. You have to be very quiet. They’re listening.”

“Okay, but what are you – oh.” Brady’s voice was quiet and, if Preston heard right, it seemed that a little bit of stress had leaked from it when he got on his knees in front of Brady.

He unzipped Brady’s pants and reached in, eyes open in the dark, the only light the dim, red glow from the control panel to let them know the audio channel was open. His fingers grazed Brady’s cock and it twitched. He pulled it carefully through the zipper and leaned in to purse his lips around the head in a gentle kiss.

Brady was true to his word and kept quiet as Preston sucked him. Bobbing his head fast, Preston pumped in time with his fist, fingers tight around the shaft. It wasn’t going to take long. He could hear Brady’s accelerated breathing, feel his balls tightening up. With a single, sharp intake of air, Brady’s cock jumped between Preston’s lips and flooded his mouth with cum.

Preston swallowed it down, coaxed the last few drops from the softening tip as Brady let out a long, quiet sigh. After a final kiss on the tip, he tucked Brady’s dick back inside his pants and got to his feet. Preston kissed him, swiping his tongue through Brady’s mouth, letting him taste himself. His lips skimmed Brady’s ear and he whispered, “Better?”

“Much,” Brady said.

“You guys doing okay up there?” the voice crackled through the speaker.

“Yeah,” Preston said. “We’re holding it together.” He coaxed Brady’s hand off the railing and held it tight against his chest. “We’re holding it together.”


Chapter Fifteen

 When fire and rescue finally managed to get the doors open, they shined work lights in on them and Brady’s stomach dropped when he realized they had stopped between the fifth and sixth floors. They were going to have to be pulled up through the top half of the door. He tried not to think about the elevator shifting at that precise moment, dropping just a few inches to snap his spine. Or drop even farther, maybe an entire floor, and cut him in half.

The hyperventilating started again, but then Preston was there. Preston – strong, broad-chested, and thick-cocked Preston. And Preston tightened his grip on Brady’s hand and talked to him in soft, gentle tones as he led him to the door. He could do this, Preston said, it was going to be fast and over with before he realized it. Preston would be right behind him and then they were going to go have a drink. Everything was going to be okay.

Brady paused in front of the jimmied open doors. He looked up into the faces of the fire and rescue guys, took note of their strong arms beneath tight T-shirts. It was going to be okay, because Preston told him so. He looked over his shoulder at Preston, who nodded encouragement back. Brady turned to the fire rescue team, took a breath, and raised his hands.

He was lifted up and out of the elevator in a breath, and he stumbled down the heavily shadowed hall, the emergency lights bright in his eyes. Coming to a stop a dozen feet from the elevator, Brady turned to the wall and pressed his forehead against it, taking deep breaths. A moment later, a pair of strong hands touched his shoulders, squeezed them reassuringly, and Brady’s pulse slowed.

“You okay?” Preston asked.

Brady nodded, the utilitarian wallpaper scratching against his greasy forehead and encouraging him to pull away from the wall. He turned to find Preston watching him intently.

Preston frowned. “Sure you’re all right?”

More deep breaths until Brady felt his head clear. “Yeah, I’m sure. You said something about a drink?”

One of the fire team snorted. “Good luck finding an open bar. Power’s out all over.”

“Stadium Diner’s open,” another offered. “Just down the block to the north. No liquor license, but Dave’s got the generator pumping full strength and the grill’s open.”

“Sounds good to me.” Preston raised his eyebrows at Brady. “How about you?”

“I just want to be on the ground floor for a while,” Brady said.

Preston nodded. “I heard that. Let’s go.”

The stairway was lit by emergency lights and it only took a few minutes to get to the lobby level. The members of the class were huddled together in a wash of light outside the conference room, and when they saw Preston, they all started talking at once. Preston laughed and held up his hands, shushing them into silence.

“As you can see,” Preston said, with a smile aimed at Brady, “we’ve had a bit of setback. I know some of you drove here, but I think it might be best not to attempt the roads right now until the power can come back on. We’re headed to a diner close by that we hear is still open.”

The class followed them across the lobby, out the doors, and into the rain, most putting up umbrellas, a luxury Preston and Brady did not have. Brady set off at a trot that Preston matched, the class tittering and giggling behind them. Down the block, the diner sat, lit up like Christmas, in the middle of other, dark businesses. Preston and Brady took a table by themselves a little ways off from where the class had congregated. Once they had ordered iced teas, Brady set his menu aside to look out the window at the gray, rainy day.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Preston said.

Brady shifted his gaze to meet Preston’s. “Just glad that I agreed to drive out here with you.”

Preston smiled. “Me too.”

Two men stomped into the diner, cursing as they shook off the rain. They were in their late twenties or early thirties, one taller and lanky, looked strong, the shorter man in shape and handsome, but with a more reserved air, quietly studying the diner’s occupants as they stood in line looking around at the crowded tables. Preston met their eyes, shared a headshake about the rain with the shorter one, then looked back at Brady.

“Look, I’m… I’m sorry I got angry at you.” Preston blushed and looked down to stir the ice in his tea with his straw. “I just saw that text and it really, you know, hurt. I mean, I can’t do anything about the bald spot. I know how it looks, right? I see it in the mirror every morning, and it makes me flinch.”

“Hey, stop.” Brady reached out to touch his hand. He seemed to remember they were in a public restaurant, with the members of their class nearby, and pulled back his hand. “I don’t care about that. I think you’re handsome and fun and more fucking intelligent than anyone back at Techmagine realizes.”

Preston rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

“No, seriously.” Brady nodded. “And the way you look at me when we…” He stopped, swallowed, and glanced away as a blush exploded across his cheeks.

Preston leaned over the table. “Hey.” Brady brought his gaze back to Preston’s, an embarrassed smile on his handsome face. Preston nodded and said, “I feel the same way.”


“Yeah. I’ve always thought you were handsome, and smart. A fuck of a lot smarter than Phillip Holt. And I was excited and nervous and terrified that Cameron chose you to come on this trip with me. I had hoped we’d get to know each other better, but I never, ever imagined we’d end up… together. You know? And last night was amazing. More than amazing, it was the best, most connected sex I’ve had with anyone, ever. I never thought the drive here was going to be the foreplay leading up to sex that was so hot. And, I’m not stupid. I know there are thirteen years between us, the lifespan of a teenager, but I don’t feel that gap. I feel really comfortable with you.” He lowered his voice and leaned even farther over the table. “I feel comfortable in you, and with you in me.”

“God, me too,” Brady whispered. “So much.” He looked down and back up. “I’m so fucking hard right now, you have no idea.”

Preston’s dick throbbed in response, and he could feel a damp spot spreading from the oozing pre-cum. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea.”

Brady grinned. “The power better come back on soon. I want to get back in your room again.”

“All afternoon, baby,” Preston said.

Desire glazed Brady’s eyes. “God, you’re killing me.”

“Me inside you,” Preston continued. “You inside me. Flip-flopping all day and all night. I’m going to drain your balls, and then make you beg for more.”

Brady put his head down on the table. “I can’t take this. I’m going to have to come soon, I’m hard as a railroad spike here.”

“Think of me sitting on that spike,” Preston whispered. “Taking it deep in my ass until you’re all the way inside me. My swollen cock slapping against your flat, smooth belly. My fingers pulling and twisting your nipples.”

“Damn you,” Brady said. He lifted his head and stared into Preston’s eyes, his expression intense, hungry. “You’re killing me.”

The people in the diner around them cheered and they both blinked and looked up. Preston was surprised to find one of the men who had come in after them staring at him and smiling. The man nodded and winked from where he sat on a stool at the counter, obviously having caught the sexual current running hot and heavy between Preston and Brady. Preston smiled and nodded back.

“The power’s back,” Brady said.

“It is?” Preston looked around, then caught sight of the buildings around the diner lit up once again. He met Brady’s eyes and said, “You ready?”

Brady smirked. “In about two minutes when I can walk out of here.”

“Gotta stop thinking about pushing your cock in my tight ass first?” Preston said.

Brady dropped his head to the table again. “You gotta stop saying that shit or we’ll never get to leave.”

One of the class attendants walked up, car keys in one hand and cell phone in the other. “No more class today?”

Preston smiled up at her. “No. We’ll catch up during the week, but if the storm continues as they predict, we might as well wait until tomorrow.”

She smiled at them both. “Thanks for an eventful morning!” With a wave, she walked off, blending in with the rest of the class as they crowded out the door.

Preston dropped some cash on the table to cover the cost of their iced teas. “Think you can walk the two blocks back to the hotel?”

Brady nodded. “Barely.” He got to his feet and Preston followed suit. “But, one request.”


“Let’s take the stairs up to the room?”

Preston laughed and put an arm around Brady’s shoulders. “Absolutely.”

 ~~ * ~~

Well, there you have it. Preston and Brady made it to their destination and things have wrapped up rather nicely. I hope you enjoyed going along for the ride with these two, and very special thanks to Myristica Onenine for the awesome prompts that sparked this story. Come back next Monday when Demetrius and Cody return in my story “Parson’s Hollow: Critter Catchers.” For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me to see how the other road trip stories are wrapping up.

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor



Breathless Press Scavenger Hunt Birthday Blog Hop

Welcome readers to the Breathless Press Scavenger Hunt Birthday Blog Hop!

We have nineteen blogs participating, and each author is giving away a prize, books, swag…you name it! Here on my blog, one lucky winner will receive a copy of my self-published novel Bounty, a vampire and zombie mash up set in the Old West. It’s the first book in my Venom Valley Series, and if you’re interested, you can “Like” the series Facebook Page HERE.

BUT…The main thing to remember is … It’s Breathless Press’s Birthday!

And have they got a gift for one lucky reader! Visit every blog in the hop, and locate the eighteen clues- that would be the blue letters. Create a list of each author whose blog you visit (Don’t forget to leave a comment so your visit can be verified!) and the blue letter you found on their post. Unscramble the message and send an email to olivia(dot)ventura(AT) with the decoded message, the list of participating authors, and what letter was found on which blog.

(Note: You are ONLY eligible to win if you visit & comment on ALL blogs!)

Your email makes you eligible to win a 50 BOOK LIBRARY! Fifty books of your choice from Breathless Press! That’s approximately a $150 value!

Okay, now that instructions are out of the way … scroll down to read my post. And don’t forget to look for the secret letter in BLUE.

Wicked, wicked ways are so much easier when you have a group to support you.

As part of the Story Orgy writer’s group, I write and post weekly free gay romance reads on my blog every Monday morning. Usually, these posts are parts of a longer story, and many times they tend to veer off into creepy, some might say outright frightening, directions.

I’m never sure if I’ve gone too far. Is it too much for a character to move into a new house only to discover that a most violent and horrible murder took place there years before? And what if I took it a step further? What if this new owner discovered that the spirit of that victim lingers in the house and communicates with him by leaving messages on the upstairs mirror? Is that going too far?

Apparently not, according to the members of my Story Orgy group. They encouraged me each week with comments and feedback on my novella, “Wicked Reflection,” available in the collection Word Play, Story Orgy: Volume 1, released by Breathless Press and available for purchase HERE.

My flash fiction story, “The Sum of His Parts,” will materialize in the Breathless Press collection Freaky Flashes, available for download on October 31, naturally. The Story Orgy group gave me some really good feedback on that quickie read, and I think you’re really going to enjoy every bit and piece of it.

I’d like to give a shout out of thanks to the Story Orgy group: Lee Brazil, Havan Fellows, Em Woods, JR Boyd, and Jade Baiser, as well as a big thanks to Breathless Press for putting our words into print. Happy Birthday, Breathless Press, here’s to many more years of sexy, sultry stories.

Did you find a blue letter here on my blog post? Be sure to make a note of it and leave a comment for a chance to win not only a copy of my paranormal e-book Bounty, but the grand prize of a 50 book library!

Hop on over to the other blog hop participants and look for the blue letters to spell out the secret message. Don’t forget to leave comments on each blog for a chance to win each blog participant’s prize as well as qualify for the Grand Prize! Good Luck!

Breathless Press Scavenger Hunt Birthday Blog Hop Participating Authors:

DC Juris      Gayl Taylor      Em Woods      Havan Fellows      Leona Bushman      LB Shire      JR Boyd

Dianne Hartsock      Lee Brazil      Carrie Pulkinen Korts      Raven McAllan      SJ Thomas      Yazmin Subha

Kiru Taye      Doris O’Connor      Jamieson Wolf      Story Orgy Blog      Breathless Press Blog


Story Orgy Summer Rerun – Parson’s Hollow: Critter Catchers, Chapter Four

This week is the last Parson’s Hollow post until September when Demetrius and Cody return to continue their hunt for the crazy killer lurking in the woods around Parson’s Hollow. And they might even catch a few critters while they’re at it.

Today’s Hook Up prompt is: Separating them was the only choice.

Critter Catchers

 Parson’s Hollow Series, Book 1

Chapter Four

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

“You can’t arrest us!” Cody shouted.

“I can if I want, Bower,” Lucia shouted back, and stepped right up nose to nose with him. “You were the last ones to see these two victims! Any officer in their right mind would at least bring you in for questioning.”

“Well, that explains your reasoning then, doesn’t it?” Cody said with a snarl.

Demetrius’s stomach clenched as he stood on Lillian Hackett’s back lawn a few feet away, watching things escalate. It had started ugly and was getting worse. He knew separating them was the only choice, and wedged himself between the two, turning to face Cody.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Demetrius said, trying to catch Cody’s furious gaze. “Everyone’s freaked out about another dismemberment.”

“Another dismemberment?” a voice repeated.

All three stopped and turned to look. A man with sandy red hair, round glasses, and a nervous smile stood under an oak tree.

Demetrius met the man’s blue-eyed gaze for a split second and his breath, thoughts, and time itself seemed to screech to a halt.

“Who the fuck are you?” Lucia snapped.

“That’s Oliver,” Cody said. “The new Herald reporter.”

“You!” Lucia started for Oliver, hands out as though to strangle him.

Oliver let out a squeak of surprise and turned to flee across the lawn.

“You’d better keep on running,” Lucia shouted after him. “All the way to Pittsburgh!”

“Nice,” Cody said. “Threatening the public. How very Galactic Empire of you.”

Lucia spun on them. “To the station. Now!”

 ~~ * ~~

Well, we’ll have to leave Demetrius and Cody (and Oliver, by the looks of it) in some hot water for now. As I said in the introduction, we’ll come back to them in September when they return to the regular Monday posts. Enjoy the last Dog Days of August, and don’t forget to come back Monday for the final installment of my Road Trip series, “Cross Country Foreplay.” Until then, be good or be good at it! If you’ve got some time, check out the other Story Orgy blogs!

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor

Comments Off on Story Orgy Summer Rerun – Parson’s Hollow: Critter Catchers, Chapter Four

Story Orgy Road Trip – Part Four (NSFW)

Good Story Orgy Monday morning! Welcome to the fourth of FIVE Road Trip story posts, hot smexy reads intended to capture that summer road trip feeling. My story was inspired by the prompts sent in by Myristica Onenine: workaholic businessman, travel west coast to east coast, flash flood. From those three items I came up with a story titled Cross Country Foreplay. After a few announcements, we’ll get back on the road with Brady and Preston … also known as BSB.

To celebrate Breathless Press’s 3rd Birthday and the new website, Havan and Lee have some short free reads available for download. Did you get the fact that they are FREE?! Lee’s story, Nothing to Forgive, is HERE. And Havan’s Lucky Night, is HERE.

And, have you downloaded Lee Brazil’s Naughty Nursery Rhyme, It’s Simple, Simon yet? It’s available from Breathless Press HERE.

Also Breathless Press related… Jump on into the BP Scavenger Hunt Birthday Blog Hop, starting this Friday, August 24, and running all weekend! A number of BP authors will be acting as hosts. Hop from blog to blog to find the secret letter at each site, decode the message, and you could win lots of great prizes! Each author is hosting a give-away, and the Grand Prize from Breathless Press is 50 books from their library! That’s a $150 value! The hop gets going on Friday morning, so get up early and get… well, hopping!

Em Woods’s story of love in desperate times, Holding On, is available HERE for pre-order from Total e-Bound Books. Click on over and reserve your copy today!

Finally … We’ve extended the date for our Christmas prompts! We need just a few words…a person (not a name), a place, and a thing…at least one item should be holiday related…for example…

person- Accountant
place- bank lobby
thing- gingerbread man

That’s it. Your prompts could be selected to inspire a story for And The Prompt Is, The Holiday Edition Volume 2.

Feel free to leave your suggestion in a comment here, or email it to storyorgy(at)ymail(dot)com.

Whew! Okay, that’s it! Rest stop is over, time to jump back in the station wagon and hit the open road! Let’s see how far Brady and Preston have gotten … and I don’t just mean on the road!

Thanks to the amazing Startled Monkeys Media for the cover to our Road Trip edition ebook. Wow, that’s a long, hot stretch of open road!

Cross Country Foreplay

Story Orgy Road Trip, Part Four

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Chapter Eleven

 The next day, Brady took the first shift behind the wheel, and, by the time he had driven eight hours, his shoulders and neck were tight. He pulled off at a truck stop where they ate greasy food, then Preston took the keys. When Preston shifted into gear, however, he didn’t pull out on the road as Brady had suspected, but circled the building to a secluded parking spot tucked away behind the big rigs. There, Preston kissed him, goatee soft as it brushed Brady’s lips, Preston’s tongue now a familiar guest inside his mouth.

“I think you earned a bit of a reward for that long driving shift,” Preston said and, with a smile, put his face in Brady’s lap.

Brady stared at the tires of the rig parked in front of them as Preston sucked him, amazed that this man with his cock down his throat was the same Preston Brissett he worked with side by side on a daily basis. He had never imagined Preston would be open to sex in public, or cum eating, or as much of a top as he had proven to be. Every time Brady thought about Preston pumping into him, the man’s thick, blunt cock spreading his ass open and driving in deep, he wanted to come on the spot. All the men Brady had met in bars and at parties were narrow hipped and more submissive than he liked. Maybe that was why none of his relationships worked out; Brady just needed someone older, someone more confident and dominant. He had needed Preston.

The hot, wet tunnel of Preston’s mouth tightened around him even more and Brady hissed in a breath. “I’m really close.”

Preston moaned a response and picked up the pace of his sucking.

Brady’s climax rushed through him, lighting up parts of his brain and – if he really thought about it, his heart – that had been dark for as long as he could remember.

Preston milked him dry, then sat up, smiled, and kissed him softly on the lips. “Damn, your cum tastes good.”

“Glad you like it,” Brady said as he tucked himself back inside his jeans. “I was up all night baking it just for you.”

With one more kiss, Preston started the van again and pulled out of the truck stop parking lot. “Next stop, Boston. We’re going to have to work pretty late to get the training stations set up for tomorrow morning.”

Brady smiled and yawned. “Okay. Maybe I’ll grab some shut eye for a bit.”

“You do that, babe,” Preston said and winked at him before turning back to the road. “I’ll wake you up if anything interesting happens.”

“Sounds good.” Brady slouched in the seat and closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, someone was gently shaking him awake.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. We’re here.”

Brady blinked, squinted against bright lights in his eyes, and turned to see Preston leaning over him from the driver’s seat. Preston’s face, even more handsome than Brady remembered, was half in shadow from the tall lights outside the windshield.

“Huh?” was all Brady could manage.

Preston smiled, trailed his hand down over Brady’s chest and stomach to drop into his lap for a gentle squeeze. “We’re at the hotel in Boston. You wake up and I’ll go check us in.”

The door opened and Preston was gone. Brady sat up in his seat and rubbed his eyes, then looked around. The skyline of Boston, or what he assumed was Boston since he’d never been, was laid out before him, glittering against the night sky.

Brady stepped out of the van, stretched, and took a deep breath. He could smell the heavy damp and static charge from an approaching storm on the air, wondered if it was the same storm they had ridden out back in Oklahoma. Before he could ponder the thought too much, Preston came back, pulling a wide flatbed cart.

“Ready to work?” Preston asked with a grin and threw open the back doors of the van.

“Let’s do it,” Brady said with a nod, and moved to help lift out the equipment.

* * * * *

At ten minutes til two a.m., Brady connected the final terminal and got to his feet. He had wolfed down a sub for dinner a few hours earlier and now was hungry for something a little more organic. Something like the long, thick length of Preston’s cock.

Brady walked up the aisle between tables loaded with computer terminals. He stopped to lean against the table next to where Preston kneeled taping loose cables down on the carpet. Preston looked up at him, eyes shifting to take in the rounded bulge of Brady’s hard on, then back to meet Brady’s gaze.

“Really?” Preston asked with a grin. “You’re not completely exhausted?”

Brady lifted his eyebrows. “Are you tired, old man?”

Preston’s eyebrows shot up, then he jumped to his feet and pulled Brady tight against him. A hungry kiss followed, tongues trading invasions back and forth as Preston groped Brady’s crotch through his jeans.

“You think I can’t perform after driving cross country and living through a flash flood?” Preston asked.

Before Brady could respond, a heavy rumble of thunder reverberated through the hotel. They looked at each other wide-eyed for a minute, then Brady said, “Might want to amend that to say two flash floods.”

Preston kissed him again. “Don’t even joke about that.” He took Brady by the hand. “Let’s go up to the room.”

Brady followed Preston to the elevator, dropping his gaze to the man’s ass. It looked round and tight beneath his jeans, and Brady’s cock twitched. The khakis Preston wore to the office never showed off his ass like this. Brady wanted to push his face into the crack and tongue Preston’s sweaty hole.

They made out in the elevator as it lifted them to their floor. Giggling like love-struck school girls, they walked briskly down the hall to Preston’s room. The moment the door shut behind them, they were all over each other. Kissing, groping, stroking, stripping off clothing. Finally nude, they stood at the foot of the bed and embraced. Preston’s broad, hairy body was damp with sweat. Brady tasted it as he ran his tongue down through the hair to suck at Preston’s nipples. He moved lower, let his tongue run laps around Preston’s navel, then lower still where he paused to press his nose into the wiry bush of his pubic hair and breathe in the musky smell of him.

Preston’s cock filled his mouth, tasted salty against his tongue as he sucked him hard and deep. Preston groaned above him, and Brady slipped a finger behind his balls to work it into the tight ring of muscle.

“Yeah,” Preston said, voice deep with need. “Get that finger in deep.”

Brady pumped his finger in and out, Preston’s own sweat acting as a natural lubricant. When he could stand it no longer, Brady let Preston’s cock drop from between his lips and put his hands on the man’s hips to turn him around. Brady licked his lips as he spread the firm, hairy cheeks of Preston’s ass to expose the pink ridges of his anus. He had never shied away from rimming, but it was never something he really looked forward to indulging in. Until now. Suddenly, Brady couldn’t get his tongue in enough places of Preston’s body. He wanted to know the taste, feel, and smell of every inch of the man.

Pressing his face into the sweat-damp valley, Brady licked the twitching folds of Preston’s hole. The taste of him exploded across Brady’s tongue – salty and delicious – and he drilled his tongue deep into the center of Preston, then deeper still.

“Fuck yeah,” Preston said with a groan. “God, you’re good at that. You’re driving me so fucking crazy. I want you to fuck me.”

Brady moaned into Preston’s asshole. He licked and sucked at the tender opening a moment longer, then pulled back to ask, “You sure?”

Preston turned and bent down to kiss him hard. “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ sure. Get the condoms and lube.”

In moments, Brady was suited and slicked up. Preston lay on his back across the bed, legs on Brady’s shoulders. As Brady aimed the glistening tip of his cock at Preston’s threshold, he locked his gaze on Preston’s blue eyes and watched the man’s expression as he pushed slowly, steadily into him.

Once he was fully inside, Brady paused to run his tongue up the calf of Preston’s left leg, then, with a smile, he fucked him. His hips found a rhythm Brady never knew he had learned and each thrust pushed a grunt from Preston. Brady was in a zone, so in tune with the rush and retreat of his actions he didn’t realize Preston was close until the man let out a gasp.

Cum shot up to Preston’s chin with the force of his climax. Brady felt Preston’s muscles tighten around his cock with each pulse of his orgasm, and the feeling toppled him off the edge into ecstasy. He shot his load into the condom buried inside Preston at the same time that lightning forked across the sky beyond the window.

Preston turned his head to look at the night beyond the glass, then met Brady’s gaze and said, “Here we go again.”

Chapter Twelve

They managed a few hours’ sleep, Brady tucked into the crook of Preston’s arm. Preston felt Brady’s breath warm against his chest and drifted off to sleep as rain beat against the window.

The alarm went off what seemed like minutes after Preston had fallen asleep, and he forced himself to roll out of bed. Storm clouds huddled low over the city, pelting everything below with rain. Preston rubbed his hands over his face, tried to rub the sleep away, or some energy into himself, but it did neither. He looked at Brady snoring quietly in bed, one leg tossed on top of the covers, the calf plump with muscle and softly furred. He was still surprised at their role reversal last night. Preston had never been a fan of getting fucked, but Brady had fit so perfectly inside his throat, Preston had wanted to take the man up his ass as well. And it had been a hell of a ride. Never before had he been able to just lie back and relax, let a partner fuck him with abandon.

Brady sighed in his sleep and shifted position, exposing the curve of one ass cheek. Before he could get any ideas about how to wake Brady up, Preston headed to the bathroom. They had a full day of training ahead of them, and he wanted to make sure the systems they’d set up the night before had been done correctly.

When it came to prep, Preston was a master. He shaved around his goatee, trimmed it with scissors, showered, and combed his hair, wincing slightly at the sight of his bald spot reflecting back in the side mirror. He looked his reflection in the eye, tipped his chin up higher, nodded, then strode nude from the bathroom. Might as well give Brady a look before he got dressed.

Brady was sitting up in bed, yawning and blinking. They both jumped at a heavy crack of thunder, then laughed at themselves.

“Still a little jumpy about storms, I guess,” Brady said. His gaze moved slowly down then up Preston’s body. “Now that’s a continental breakfast.”

Preston narrowed his eyes. “Did you just infer that I’m as large as a continent?”

Brady opened his mouth, closed it, then held up a finger. “No time. We need to be downstairs.”

He fled into the bathroom and Preston slapped his bare ass hard on the way past.

It took longer for Brady to shave and shower and style his hair, not a surprise to Preston. The pretty ones, the ones who didn’t need to primp, always took longer.

They touched and fondled as they walked back and forth from their suitcases to the bathroom, dressing and brushing their teeth and doing last minute preparations. When Brady ducked into the bathroom and closed the door, Preston felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out.

A text message was waiting. It was from Phillip Holt, the snobby, holier than thou developer who worked alongside Brady. Preston furrowed his brow and touched the screen to see the bubble larger.

OMG. You did not fuck BSB!

Preston frowned as a cold thread of nerves stitched through his gut. How did Phillip know he and Brady had consummated a relationship? And what the hell did BSB stand for? He decided to keep things simple, for now, and tapped his response on the screen: BSB?

A moment later the phone buzzed in his palm. His mouth went dry and a hard knot of ice seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach as he read the message.

Bald Spot Brissett, duh! Did he fuck you senseless?

Obviously, Preston had picked up Brady’s phone. But the nickname cut into him, bled out his affection for Brady. Bald Spot Brissett? That was what they called him behind his back at the office? Did they really have so little respect for him? And Brady knew about it? Then what had all of this been on their drive east? Just a joke? A prank to play on Bald Spot Brissett and laugh about it when they got back to the office?

The bathroom door opened and Brady stepped out. He held Preston’s phone in his hand and had a small smile on his face. “I think we got our phones mixed up. I couldn’t find Angry Birds and was about to lose it until I noticed it was yours.”

Brady must have seen something in Preston’s face, because he stopped and frowned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Preston handed over Brady’s phone and snatched back his own. “Nothing. Let’s go. We’ve got training to deliver.”

A sad, icy ache filled Preston’s chest as he walked down the hall, Brady hurrying to keep up, asking him what was wrong, what he had done. But Preston didn’t tell him, couldn’t tell him, because he was afraid he’d lose control of his emotions. He might get angry and shout at Brady. Or worse, he might cry in front of him. And he didn’t want to do that. He couldn’t let Brady know just how much he had started to mean to him, how much their few days driving east had opened him up and let Preston hope that maybe, just maybe, he could be happy with someone.

He jabbed the elevator button and stood staring at the line between the doors, distracting himself by thinking of how far apart the doors would be when they opened. He imagined that same spreading distance now between himself and Brady.

“Dammit, Preston,” Brady snapped. “Stop acting like a thirteen-year-old girl and just fucking tell me what’s wrong!”

Preston whipped his head around to glare at Brady, feeling his anger and hurt blaze in his eyes. Brady saw it, too, because he took a step back and his eyes widened. Before Preston could say a word, the elevator arrived. He stormed into the car, pressing the buttons for the lobby and to close the door at the same time. Brady jumped through the narrowing gap of the closing doors just in time and stood silent in the back corner.

As he watched the floor numbers change above the door, Preston heard Brady tapping the screen of his phone. A moment later, Brady gasped, then grabbed his arm, already talking.

“No, Preston,” Brady said. “That’s not what this was. I never called you that. I was just trying to tell Phillip how different you were… How different you are. Different than what they think. I –”

Preston yanked his arm out of Brady’s grasp. He turned to shoot a withering glance at Brady where the man cowered in the corner of the elevator, timing it perfectly with another rolling growl of thunder. The elevator announced its arrival in the lobby with a merry ding and he turned to stride through the still parting doors. Breathing deep to calm his racing pulse, Preston marched down the hall to the conference room where they had set up for training.

A few class members were already seated, introducing themselves and talking with cups of coffee perched near their keyboards. Preston focused on the instructor’s terminal at the front of the room, kept his gaze on the keyboard as he logged into the system. He needed to get in an instructor’s headspace, push aside his feelings of betrayal and anger. Slowly, so slowly, he felt his temper soften, found his way into a more open space.

Brady followed him into the room and Preston watched from the corner of his eye as the man stopped short at the sight of the class participants already seated at the terminals. Brady hovered in the doorway, eyes darting back and forth between Preston and the class. He approached Preston, lips parted as if to say something, but Preston glared him into silence. Now was not the time or place.

The glare did its trick, and Brady backed off. It was easier to find his way to a clear headspace the second time, and Preston looked up at the class members and smiled. He could do this, he would get through this class. And afterward, he was going to put Brady’s things in the hall outside his room and go to bed. Alone.

Chapter Thirteen

Brady was miserable. More than miserable, he was grieving.

He sulked at the back of the room and watched Preston pace dozens of feet and an immeasurable emotional distance away from him. They had discussed their training roles during the drive, and Brady’s was to hover in the back of the room to assist that half of the class. Now, as Preston strutted around the front of the room, talking about the system and drawing visual representations on a flip pad of paper, Brady could not help but be drawn even more to the man. Preston was lit up, his eyes bright and his smile quick as he interacted with the class. Brady could feel the connection between Preston and the people around him and he envied it. He’d had an even closer connection with Preston on the drive east, and he felt like an outcast from everyone and everything going on around him. He wanted, needed, to get back that relationship with Preston.

A chilly fear filled Brady, fear that he’d never again see the intense expression of attraction and – dare he think it? – love, on Preston’s face again. Never taste Preston’s kiss, feel his touch, savor his cock in his mouth, and take it up his ass.

All because of stupid, asinine Phillip Holt. How could Phillip have sent that text message? Brady had spent the better part of the afternoon texting Phillip while Preston had been driving. He had answered Phillip’s questions, told him how different Preston was than Phillip liked to think. But then Phillip had to take it and read between the lines, understand what Brady was trying to tell him without Brady coming right out and saying it, and then call him out on it. Brady should have known better than to say anything to Phillip, but he had wanted, needed to share his experience with someone. And Brady had hoped that he could make Phillip understand the real Preston.

But Phillip was too immature, too superficial, to be able to make that leap. And he had belittled Brady and Preston in that text message.

And Preston had had to see it.

Thunder rumbled through the hotel, and the class jumped, then laughed nervously at themselves. The lights flickered and Preston met Brady’s gaze for a quick, heart-stopping moment before returning his attention to the class once more. With a smile, Preston said, “Well, I think that means it’s a good time for a break. Come back in twenty minutes.”

The group got to their feet and milled around, trapping Brady near the back of the room. He had to talk to Preston, but was blocked from getting to him. Instead, he watched helplessly as Preston strode out of the room without so much as a glance in Brady’s direction.

“Excuse me,” Brady said to a small cluster of people that stood chatting in front of him. “Sorry, pardon me.”

He slipped through them, dodged around another woman bending over to pick her purse up off the floor, and then trotted out the door of the conference room. Thunder snarled again, shook the hotel. Through the windows of the main lobby, Brady could see the rain coming down in sheets. He looked around the lobby, then down the hall toward the elevators. Preston stood before the doors, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

With a fast walk, Brady headed that way. His stomach was knotted with tension. Adrenaline pumped through him, making his heart bang inside his chest. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he had to talk to Preston, had to make him understand that, yes, Brady had known about the nickname, but no, he had not invented it or used it. Preston needed to understand why Brady had been texting Phillip. Brady had to make him see that he had been trying to tell Phillip how different Preston was, how wrong Phillip was about him. He had to make Preston understand what this week driving cross country with him had meant.

The elevator doors opened and Preston stepped out of sight. Brady gasped and put on a burst of speed. He slipped between the closing doors, and ended up in the back corner from the speed of his rush. Preston turned to glare at him.

“I wanted to be alone,” Preston said.

“You can be alone when we’re done talking,” Brady said, trying to put steel in his voice. He didn’t like small spaces, elevators in particular, but he pushed that aside and held his hands palms up. “Look, I know you’re hurt. And angry. But you have to know that I have never called you by that nickname.”

Preston snorted. “Really?”

Brady nodded. “Really.”


“Not once.” Brady crossed his heart. “Swear.” Brady’s limbs shook and a cold chill rattled along his spine. He was terrified. Terrified he would say the wrong thing and lose his chance to patch things up with Preston forever. He only had another two floors with Preston inside the elevator, and he had to make the time count. But what to say? The truth?

Preston sighed and looked away. “I can’t say I’m surprised by it.” He looked back, eyes narrowed. “But I was hurt.”

“Again, I have never called you that. Phillip Holt came up with the nickname.”

Preston rolled his eyes. “Holt. Figures. Most creativity he’s shown in years.”

Before Brady could respond, a savage crack of thunder slapped against the building. The elevator shook and then came to an abrupt stop. The overhead light died, leaving them in pitch darkness. Brady reached out to grab hold of the railing at waist level, fingers tight on the steel as his breath seemed to stop in chest. He could feel the dark squeezing in close against him, pressing heavy hands on his chest, then reaching down his throat to stop his breath.

From across the elevator, he heard Preston’s calm voice ask, “Brady? You okay?”

 ~~ * ~~

Preston and Brady are really having a time on this road trip! Check back in next Monday to see if they can help each other out of that elevator. And don’t forget that all this month I’m re-posting the first four chapters of my paranormal story, Critter Catchers, every Wednesday as the Road Trip stories play out. Think of them as the Story Orgy version of summer reruns, getting you ready for Demetrius and Cody to return in September. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy Road Trip reads!

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor


Hired Muscle Excerpt

Hired Muscle_1400

The night I met Vinnie, clouds hung low over the city, dumping rain in torrents as if to wash the citizens clean. However, so many of the elected officials were on the take it would take a hell of a lot more than a single thunderstorm to sluice the stench of corruption from the city’s streets.

It was October 1941, and everyone could feel some kind of change in the air. There were reports of a war in Europe, but that seemed so far away. We had a mob war going on right outside our door. We couldn’t worry about Europe’s battles.

I waited tables at the last chic restaurant in a decaying section of Baltimore. Competing mob bosses had forced a large manufacturer with warehouses and an assembly plant nearby to shut down, and most of the surrounding businesses had fled to different parts of the city.

DuMochelle’s, the restaurant where I worked, still did steady business, but the diners were more cautious. The conversation was subdued and the laughter less boisterous. Once they had finished with dessert and coffee, most people scurried to other, safer sections of the city or back to their new suburban homes.

I had just turned away from delivering the check to a nervous table of four when the front door opened. The rain outside sounded like the fountain in the city center. The diners at the table nearest the door shivered and moved closer together.

Then a tall, wide-shouldered shape filled the doorway. The maître d’, Enrique DuMochelle himself, stepped back from his podium, eyes wide as the new arrival swept his gaze around the room. I felt a tingle of connection as he looked at me, lingered for a breath of a moment, and then moved on.

He had to duck to get through the door, and his wide face, marred by a scar across his left cheek, was just shy of handsome. A fedora partially hid thick, dark hair, and his suit coat stretched tight over a muscular chest and shoulders.

After apparently deciding the room held no threat, the guard stepped aside to reveal a smaller, much better dressed man. I felt the collective intake of breath in the restaurant as Giovanni Lombardi, notorious south side mob boss, walked through the door. Don Lombardi nodded to Enrique who fumbled a handful of menus from beneath his podium and led him to the best table in the place. The rest of the diners tried not to stare as Don Lombardi ambled past, his wife, gorgeous in midnight blue, right behind him, and his two children after her.

His bodyguards took several empty tables at various spots throughout the place and my stomach fluttered as Enrique sat the leading hulk of muscle in my section.

We waiters scurried into action as a single, cohesive unit. As the bus boys delivered water and place settings, we stepped up and rattled off the evening’s specials. When I walked up to the big goon’s table, he raised his dark brown eyes to my face and gave me a quick nod.

“Would you like to hear tonight’s specials?” I asked, working to keep my voice steady.

“Nah. Just bring me a steak, medium, with lotsa mashed potatoes and creamed corn.” The seismic wave of his voice shot right to my crotch and got me hard in a moment.

“Of course,” I replied, “anything to drink?”

“Water, in a bigger glass than this.” He waved a meaty hand at the small water glass, then he looked up at me, his gaze seizing mine so I couldn’t look away. “What’s your name?”

“Barry,” I squeaked.

“Vinnie.” His voice rumbled. “If the boss likes the food we’ll be coming here a lot, so it’s good to know the staff.”

“Nice to meet you, Vinnie,” I said. “I’ll put in your order.”

Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Cocktail” crooned from the radio when I stepped into the kitchen and paused to take a breath. The direct eye contact with Vinnie had left me a little shaky. I felt drawn to his large body and dangerous good looks like pins to a magnet. Thankfully, my black waiter’s apron hid the proof of my attraction, but I knew my interest would be visible in my eyes. I always gave away too much of myself through my eyes.

Story Orgy – Road Trip, Part Three (NSFW)

Good Story Orgy Monday morning! Welcome to the third of FIVE Road Trip story posts, hot smexy reads intended to capture that summer road trip feeling. My story was inspired by the prompts sent in by Myristica Onenine: workaholic businessman, travel west coast to east coast, flash flood. From those three items I came up with a story titled Cross Country Foreplay. After a few announcements, we’ll get back on the road with Brady and Preston … also known as BSB.

To celebrate Breathless Press’s 3rd Birthday and the new website, Havan and Lee have some short free reads available for download. Did you get the fact that they are FREE?! Lee’s story, Nothing to Forgive, is HERE. And Havan’s Lucky Night, is HERE.

And, have you downloaded Lee Brazil’s Naughty Nursery Rhyme, It’s Simple, Simon yet? It’s available from Breathless Press HERE.

Em Woods’s story of love in desperate times, Holding On, is available HERE for pre-order from Total e-Bound Books. Click on over and reserve your copy today!

Finally … Though we’re currently taking a summer Road Trip, your Story Orgy writers are ALWAYS planning ahead! We’re drafting something very special for the December holiday season- and we’d love to have your prompts. What we need from you is just a few words…a person (not a name), a place, and a thing…at least one item should be holiday related…for example…

person- Accountant
place- bank lobby
thing- gingerbread man

That’s it. Your prompts could be selected to inspire a story for And The Prompt Is, The Holiday Edition Volume 2.

Feel free to leave your suggestion in a comment here, or email it to storyorgy(at)ymail(dot)com.

Whew! Okay, that’s it! Rest stop is over, time to jump back in the station wagon and hit the open road! Let’s see how Brady and Preston are handling that flash flood! Thanks to the amazing Startled Monkeys Media for the cover to our Road Trip edition ebook. Wow, that’s a long, hot stretch of open road!

Cross Country Foreplay

Story Orgy Road Trip, Part Three

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Chapter Eight

 Brady was drenched after taking three steps out the motel room door. He ran after Preston along the upper floor walkway, doors opening up as other guests came out to investigate the commotion. As he ran, Brady squinted against the rain slanting nearly sideways, tried to make out details of what was happening below.

The culvert on the other side of the road from the motel parking lot was now a series of raging, muddy rapids. It had quickly spilled over the shallow top and now flooded the parking lot. A cracking sound brought Brady to a stop and he peered over the railing. As he watched, a jagged fissure opened in the roadway. Chunks of asphalt were torn away by the rampaging flood waters and the crack spread across the road into the parking lot.

And directly underneath their van.

Brady pointed and turned to look at Preston, but the man standing beside him was a stranger.

“Fuck,” the stranger said, eyes wide. “That’s my car!”

Brady watched as the asphalt and dirt peeled away, sending a four door sedan into the foaming water to get washed out of the line of sight. He looked back, but the stranger was gone, replaced by a woman wearing a heavy bathrobe that was now completely drenched.

“That could take out the motel!” she screamed. “We’re going to die! Henry!”

Hysterics were not what Brady needed, so he hurried to the end of the upper walkway and down the steps. The flood waters were deeper than he expected, even here, at least fifty yards off the road. He shivered when he stepped down into the freezing ankle deep water. It lapped at the bottoms of the doors on the motel’s lower level and he was grateful now that they had gotten the last rooms on the second floor. His roof may have collapsed, but so far Preston’s room was dry and secure.

Preston. Where had the man gotten to?

Brady waded out into the parking lot. More cars were being dragged away by the force of the flood, but he kept his gaze on the driver’s door of their van, wiping rain out of his eyes. The water deepened as he closed in on the van, but he made himself keep moving. As he plowed ahead, Brady had a heart-stopping thought. Did he have the keys?

Preston had requested two sets of keys, just in case they lost one. Brady had had them in the pocket of his cargo shorts, and, after a quick search, let out a relieved breath when he felt the ragged edge of the key against his cold fingers.

The water pushed and tugged at his legs. It wanted to throw him off balance, drag him away to join the cars it had already taken, but he held his ground. Just ten more feet to the van door. His flip-flops slipped off an uneven portion of the parking lot and Brady went down to one knee. Cold water rushed around, up, and over his back, straining at him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the cold dug into him. His toes were numb, and the cold climbed up his calves with prickly claws.


Brady looked over his shoulder. Preston stood on the cement pathway near the first floor doors. He looked good, even from here, and a sudden surge of regret filled Brady’s chest. He regretted snickering at Phillip Holt when he had coined the term BSB to describe Preston. And he wished he’d been more outgoing toward Preston the past six months, talking with him more socially and inviting him out with the rest of the team.

Well, that would change. Because Brady finally saw past the age, hairline, and body limitations Phillip and the rest of the guys on the team focused on. He had gotten to know Preston for his gentle touch, broad chest, and thick cock that pushed into him with forceful thrusts. Brady had seen the tenderness in Preston’s gaze during sex and afterward, and, just before the road had collapsed and jarred them out of bed, he’d thought he wanted to see that for as long as Preston wanted to be with him.

“What are you doing?” Preston shouted. “Come back!”

Brady pushed to his feet, wavered, found his balance, then pointed at the van. “I’m going to move the van!”

“Forget the van! Come back! It’s too dangerous.”

Brady shook his head. He had to prove to Preston how important this all was for him, too. If he could save the equipment, save the training session, Preston would see him in an all new light. Maybe he’d realize he wasn’t just a young developer, fresh out of college, someone unable to commit. He wanted Preston to know he was in it for the long haul.

“I’m almost there!” Brady called back. “I’ll back the van up toward you.”

He turned away, facing the van once more, and forced himself on. The water rose fast, up to his thighs now, just above the lower edge of the van’s driver’s door facing him. He had to get there quick to save the equipment.

Step by step, Brady pushed forward and finally grabbed the door handle. He was freezing, limbs quaking, and he feared he would drop the keys when he pulled them from his pocket. Focusing all his attention on keeping hold of the keys, he slowly drew them out of his shorts and pressed the unlock button on the remote. The headlights flashed and the van squawked at him. He opened the door and cursed when water sloshed over the running board and into the footwell.

Moving as quickly as he could, Brady held onto the door and lifted his foot. The water snapped the flip-flop off his foot as he stepped into the van. It took the other flip-flop as well and he cursed as he dragged the door shut, splashing himself in the process.

“It’s fucking cold,” Brady said, teeth chattering and fingers shaking as he tried to put the key in the ignition. He missed on the first few stabs, then finally found the slot and seated the key. The engine turned over right away and Brady felt a moment of relief.

It was short lived, however, when the van rocked as the parking lot crumbled away beneath him. The front end dropped a foot and he found himself staring through the windshield into rushing, muddy water.

Chapter Nine

Preston could not help screaming when the parking lot beneath the van’s front wheels dropped away.

“Is that your son?” a woman standing beside him asked.

“No, he’s my lover,” Preston said without stopping to think how it sounded, and he waded out into the water. He wasn’t sure what he could do, but he had to take some kind of action; he couldn’t just stand and watch Brady get washed away.

The water rose under the van, picked up the back end and shifted it around so the rear of the vehicle now faced Preston. He swore as he waded into deeper water, the cold biting into his feet and legs. There had to be something he could do.

Then he heard the roar of the van’s engine and he stopped in his tracks to squint through the rain to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Nope, he was seeing it right. The van was coming fast right at him, plowing ass first through the water. He didn’t think Brady could see him at all and high-stepped through the water off to the side and out of the van’s path.

When the van rolled past, he locked eyes with Brady, saw the fear mingled with relief on the man’s face, and felt the tension in his own chest loosen. He turned to follow the van to the very edge of the parking lot, where the water was only ankle deep, and when Brady stepped out the door, Preston grabbed him in a tight hug and held him close. He didn’t care if anyone watched, and he only cared a little bit if they thought he was old enough to be Brady’s father.

Finally, Preston held Brady at arm’s length and looked into his eyes. “You okay?”

Brady nodded as his teeth chattered. “Yeah. Got scared for a minute there, though. I thought the water was going to take me and the van with it.”

A roar and crunch grabbed their attention and they turned to watch the section of the lot where the van had been parked crumble away.

“Wow,” Brady said in a quiet voice.

“Yeah.” Preston could think of nothing else to say. He put an arm around Brady and led him toward the stairs. “Come on, let’s get up to the room.”

“Do you think it’s safe?” Brady asked.

“Probably. We need to get our things anyway, and we both need a hot shower.”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ freezing,” Brady said and leaned into Preston.

They packed quickly and then showered together, turning the water as hot as they could stand it. Preston had showered with his partners before, but Brady admitted to never having done it. Preston soaped the man up, feeling the firm, rounded muscles of his shoulders, arms, and ass. He slipped a slick finger into Brady’s anus, caught the man’s gasp in a kiss. Then Brady surprised him by turning to face him so he could wrap his soap-slicked arms around him and kiss him hard. A moment later, he knelt before Preston to suck his cock.

“Oh, yeah,” Preston said with a sigh. Brady’s mouth worked him slow and deep, those perfect, full lips puckered around the shaft. Preston watched Brady stroke himself as he sucked him, the hot water beating against Preston’s chest, running down over his belly and around Brady’s hand where he gripped the base of Preston’s dick. Brady sucked faster, mouth tight around him, and Preston felt his balls pull up as he approached the edge. He closed his eyes, huffed out a breath, then another, and managed to say, “I’m coming.”

Brady pulled back and closed his eyes. He pumped his fist along the shaft and moved so the full blast of Preston’s load coated his face. Preston grunted through his orgasm, watching in surprise as Brady moved his head right and left to let each shot land in a new place. When he had finished, Preston stood drained and amazed, staring down at Brady’s messy face with a dumb smile on his own. Brady opened his eyes, smiled up at him, then leaned in to place a kiss on the tip of his cock before standing up and kissing Preston on the lips.

“You’re a mess,” Preston said, using a finger to wipe away his cum from Brady’s cheeks.

“I’ve never done that before,” Brady told him. “I’ve had a lot of firsts with you. Guess I wanted to keep it going.”

Preston kissed him again, then turned him to face the shower. “Here, use my face wash to clean yourself off.”

As Brady lifted his face into the spray, Preston reached around to take hold of the man’s hard on. He pressed himself against Brady’s back, his cock snug in the crack of Brady’s ass. His hand was slick with soap and Brady pumped his hips, fucking Preston’s fist until, with a groan, he shot his own load toward the drain.

“Thanks,” Brady said and turned his head to give him a kiss.

“Thank you,” Preston said. “For this entire trip.”

Someone pounded on the motel room door and followed it up with a shout, “Emergency services! You need to vacate this room immediately!”

Brady sighed. “Guess it’s time to leave.”

Chapter Ten

It took longer than Preston had hoped to get the van out of the crumbling motel parking lot. He’d had to convince the fire chief of their restricted timeline and fill out quadruplicate copies of paperwork then wait for the rescue vehicles to move. When he finally drove back down the road the way they had come in search of a detour, sixteen cars lay tumbled together in a muddy, crumpled mess behind them, and a number of travelers stood around wondering where they were going to get a rental car that far from a major city.

“You were reckless,” Preston said, glancing at where Brady sat huddled in the passenger seat sipping hot coffee. “But you saved about a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of equipment.”

Brady smiled at him. “Think it’ll be reflected in my Christmas bonus?”

Preston laid his palm against the side of Brady’s face, taking his gaze from the road a moment at a time to look into his eyes. “I was afraid you were going to be carried off by the flood. You scared me.”

Brady smiled, blushed, and looked away. “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t find you, and I knew the van was going to fall into the water pretty quickly.”

“I’d gone to the motel office to see if they had any rope,” Preston explained. “I was going to tie myself to a post before going out to the van.”

“Ah, that probably would have been a good idea.” Brady sighed and closed his eyes. “Mind if I get some shut eye?”

“Go ahead. I’m pretty wired anyway, and we need to cover a lot of road today.”

As the miles rolled away, Preston considered his chances of making a relationship work with Brady. With thirteen years difference in their ages, an entire teenager’s life span worth of experience, Preston didn’t think it would work out. Brady was impressionable, Preston had seen that for himself in the office and the group Brady spent time with. On occasion Preston had witnessed Brady push back against the group as a whole, or the group’s informal leader, Phillip, but not very often. And Preston knew Phillip considered him too old to know the latest changes in code development. Phillip did not adhere to the old saying ‘Respect your elders’. Because of Phillip’s strong, toxic personality, Preston was concerned Brady would crack under pressure from his coworkers if they should discover there was something going on between them.

And, truthfully, Preston shouldn’t have let himself get involved with Brady anyway. He was the Vice President of Development for Techmagine, so, on paper, Brady reported to him.

With his mind occupied by thoughts of Brady and images from their night together, Preston didn’t notice how far he had driven until he saw the signs for Columbus, Ohio. He rubbed his tired eyes and stifled a yawn. No wonder he felt fried, he’d just driven across Missouri, Illinois, and Indiana! He’d made good time, but it was full on dark now and he was exhausted. Brady had awakened a few times and offered to drive, but Preston had felt good at that point, so Brady had sent some text messages, checked social media and his email, then drifted off to sleep again. Preston decided it was time to look for a place to stay.

He’d settled for looking at the St. Louis Arch on the way past instead of taking a trip to the top in the small elevators like he’d planned on doing. And he’d scratched off the Indianapolis Artsgarden from his mental list as well. Maybe later in the year, he and Brady could take a road trip of their own without the time constraint of client training weighing them down. With that thought in mind, Preston pulled off the interstate into downtown Columbus and found a chain hotel. They’d still need to get two rooms to keep their relationship secret back at the office, but Preston hoped that Brady would want to spend the night with him again.

After they had checked in, they stood smiling at each other in the elevator. They had rooms on the same floor, across the hall from each other, but Preston tipped his head toward the door to his room and led Brady inside.

Their clothing was off in seconds, both of them rock hard and ready. Preston dropped to his knees, tugged Brady’s clean-shaved balls down and took his cock down his throat. Brady groaned, loud, and clenched his fists at his sides. Preston sucked him fast, hungry for the taste of him, and slid a hand up Brady’s torso to pinch a nipple.

“God, your mouth is so fucking hot,” Brady said.

Preston closed his eyes, keeping himself focused on the task before him. He wasn’t looking for anything sweet and loving right now, he wanted to get Brady off then come himself. They had another long drive ahead of them tomorrow and, from the radio reports he’d tuned into, the storm was following on their heels.

“Oh, shit, Preston,” Brady gasped. “You’ve got me close. I’m fucking close.”

Preston tightened his lips around Brady’s shaft and reached down to stroke himself. He was close as well, but could hold off until Brady had finished. He knew just where he wanted Brady’s spunk to land.

“Fuck, I’m coming.” Brady choked out a warning but Preston didn’t take Brady’s cock from his mouth. He held it in the back of his throat, felt it pulse and jump along his tongue and swallowed the thick, hot cum.

When he had finished, Brady stepped back, his cock falling from between Preston’s lips, and gazed down at him in sated amazement.

“No one’s ever swallowed my load before,” Brady said. “That was fuckin’ hot. I mean, shit, that was really fuckin’ amazing.”

Preston knelt before him still, hand stroking himself fast, faster. He looked up into Brady’s eyes and heard the lust in his voice as he said, “I’m close.”

He was glad to see that Brady needed no coaching as he dropped to his knees. Preston stood up, his fist a blur along his shaft, and came with a shout, blasting his load across Brady’s handsome, upturned face. When he’d finished, Preston leaned down to run his tongue through the mess he had made, lapping it up before ending with a deep, sensual kiss.

“I need a shower and some sleep,” Preston whispered. “Stay the night with me?”

Brady’s face shone in the low lamp light as he smiled up at him. “Absolutely.”

 ~~ * ~~

Preston and Brady are really getting into the spirit of their road trip! Check back in next Monday to see if they reach their destination in one piece. And don’t forget that all this month I’m re-posting the first four chapters of my paranormal story, Critter Catchers, every Wednesday as the Road Trip stories play out. Think of them as the Story Orgy version of summer reruns, getting you ready for Demetrius and Cody to return in September. For now, however, get your Christmas flash prompt ideas sent in by August 15th, and hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy Road Trip reads!

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor


Story Orgy – Road Trip, Part Two (NSFW)

Good Story Orgy Monday morning! Welcome to the second of FIVE Road Trip story posts, hot smexy reads intended to capture that summer road trip feeling. My story was inspired by the prompts sent in by Myristica Onenine: workaholic businessman, travel west coast to east coast, flash flood. From those three items I came up with a story titled Cross Country Foreplay. After a few announcements, we’ll get back on the road with Brady and Preston … also known as BSB.

To celebrate Breathless Press’s 3rd Birthday and the new website, Havan and Lee have some short free reads available for download. Did you get the fact that they are FREE?! Lee’s story, Nothing to Forgive, is HERE. And Havan’s Lucky Night, is HERE.

And, have you downloaded Lee Brazil’s Naughty Nursery Rhyme, It’s Simple, Simon yet? It’s available from Breathless Press HERE.

Em Woods’s story of love in desperate times, Holding On, is available HERE for pre-order from Total e-Bound Books. Click on over and reserve your copy today!

Finally … Though we’re currently taking a summer Road Trip, your Story Orgy writers are ALWAYS planning ahead! We’re drafting something very special for the December holiday season- and we’d love to have your prompts. What we need from you is just a few words…a person (not a name), a place, and a thing…at least one item should be holiday related…for example…

person- Accountant
place- bank lobby
thing- gingerbread man

That’s it. Your prompts could be selected to inspire a story for And The Prompt Is, The Holiday Edition Volume 2.

Feel free to leave your suggestion in a comment here, or email it to storyorgy(at)ymail(dot)com.

Whew! Okay, that’s it! Rest stop is over, time to jump back in the station wagon and hit the open road! Thanks to the amazing Startled Monkeys Media for the cover to our Road Trip edition ebook. Whew! That’s a long, hot stretch of open road!

Cross Country Foreplay

Story Orgy Road Trip, Part One

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Chapter Five

Preston ran his hand down Brady’s back, fingers lightly stroking the ridges of Brady’s spine. The skin beneath his touch was hot and damp with sweat, and Brady had his head down, moaning.

Another push and Preston had finally fully impaled Brady on his cock. He knelt between Brady’s legs, the man on all fours before him. Preston’s hands gripped Brady’s hips tight, pulling him back onto his cock as he thrust forward.

“Fuck, yeah,” Brady said. His voice was deep, breathless. “All the way in.”

“So deep inside you,” Preston heard himself say. “Ready?”

Brady looked over his shoulder at him, eyes flashing in the low lighting of the bedside lamp. His hair lay across his forehead in a sweaty flop. He nodded, beautiful full lips pressed tight together.

Preston pulled back and paused, the blunt tip of his cock just stretching the muscle of Brady’s threshold. He looked down to where their bodies were joined, let himself really see it for what it was, the first time he would fuck Brady Sparrow. Then he pushed back inside, thrust deep into the warm, slick grip of muscle.

“God, yeah,” Brady whispered. “Feels good.”

“Yeah,” Preston agreed. His hips had locked onto that old familiar rhythm, moved as if they had a mind of their own, pushing in, pulling back, pushing in.

“Faster,” Brady coached. “Get that ass.”

Preston complied, moving his hips faster, pushing himself in deeper. “Like that?”

“Fuck yeah.” Brady put his forehead against the sheets, pushed his hips back toward Preston.

Their groans were a deep duet of sex and satisfaction. Preston pounded harder, fingers digging into Brady’s hips as he closed his eyes, focused on the sensation of drilling deep into the man. He was getting close, so close. But he wanted Brady to come first, wanted to know he had pleasured him, fucked him to an orgasm.

But his climax was imminent, rushing toward him, sweeping him up inside its power.

A booming crash of thunder startled Preston awake. He jumped where he lay on the scratchy hotel sheets, alone, sweating, and hard as steel.

It had been another dream. Another dream about fucking Brady. Only Preston hadn’t gotten the chance to come, to see Brady come. Just like in all the other dreams he’d been having about the man as they drove across the country.

“Even in your dreams you can’t manage to close the deal, old man,” Preston grumbled. He rolled out of bed and crossed to the window to pull apart the heavy blinds. The motel they were staying in had exterior exit rooms, and Preston looked out on a narrow, covered balcony that overlooked the parking lot of the U-shaped building. In the near distance, back around Oklahoma City maybe, storm clouds clotted the sky, trading lightning bolts as thunder rumbled and crashed in time. It wasn’t raining, not yet, but it looked like they were in for a doozy of a storm.

A glance at the clock across the room made Preston sigh: 2:20 A.M. Leaving the curtains open, Preston went back to bed and sprawled nude across the sheets to think about his life.

He had discovered he was attracted to men in high school, specifically William Farthing, the student council president. He’d never acted on his attractions, however, until reaching college, and then he had been a fumbling, nervous mess. After college, he’d met and become involved with several men, even had relationships with a couple of them that lasted more than a few years. He had been attracted to these men, of course, but never felt as strong of a connection with them as he did with Brady. For some reason, the young developer had captured Preston’s heart and mind. And made Preston a nervous wreck.

“Stupid,” Preston scolded himself as lightning lit up the room. “What would a young stud like Brady want with an old guy like you?”

As if in answer, a torrent of rain lashed against the window, blown sideways beneath the balcony overhang, making Preston jump. He got up and went back to the window, squinting through the rain-washed glass, just able to make out rivulets of rainwater running through the parking lot, across the road, and into the drainage ditch on the other side.

A figure crossed in front of the window, a dark outline against another flash of lightning, and Preston gasped as he took a step back. Seconds later, someone pounded on the door to his room, and Preston’s heart seemed to gallop in his chest.

“Who is it?” he called, wincing at the nervous squeak he could hear in his voice.

“It’s Brady! Can you open the door? I’m getting soaked!”


Chapter Six

 Brady shivered and clutched the towel tight around his shoulders. Preston sat in the chair across the table from him, looking everywhere but in Brady’s face.

“I can’t believe the roof of your room leaked,” Preston said. He met Brady’s gaze, then his eyes flicked away. “I mean, I believe it, but it’s just so surprising.”

“You should have been lying there in bed when it happened,” Brady said, then immediately regretted it. He felt the heat of his blush, noticed Preston’s own face flush a deep crimson as the man fidgeted in his chair.

Dammit, Brady thought to himself. What the hell was he doing? And why couldn’t he get the image of Preston Brissett opening the door to his room and standing nude before him out of his head?

As Brady shivered again, he recalled feeling the wind-driven rain stinging against his bare back, felt his soaked boxers tight against his hips, crotch, and thighs. He thought about the moment when Preston had yanked open the door to his room, when the lightning had flashed and illuminated the man’s stocky, hairy body in all its glory before him, and the details that stood out to him as though he had been staring at a photograph. Preston’s quarter-sized nipples had been pink, hard and pointing right at Brady. Preston’s chest was broad, broader than it appeared beneath those button-down shirts the man wore, covered with dark blond hair that matched his trim goatee. And then Brady’s gaze had dropped to take in Preston’s cock, hanging pale and thick from the dark blond bush, his balls riding high just behind it.

Brady saw all of it in the quick flash of lightning, felt his cock twitch despite the cold water that lashed him now and had soaked him in bed, pulling him out of a dream about Preston and sending him running to the man’s room.

The bedside phone rang, loud even against the sound of the storm outside, startling them both. Preston, now wearing track pants and a T-shirt, jumped out of the chair to race across the room and answer it.

“Hello! Yes, this is he.” Preston looked at him and covered the mouthpiece to say, “It’s the hotel manager.” He went back to listening. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Not even one? I see. Yes, that would be nice. Okay, thank you.”

“Well?” Brady asked. “What did he say?”

“Good news and bad news,” Preston said. “The good news is, they’re comping both of our rooms.”

“I would hope so,” Brady said, then frowned. “What’s the bad news?”

Preston took a breath. “There are no other rooms available.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Not kidding.”

“Fuck.” Brady let out a long breath, then looked up, suddenly embarrassed at the word he had used. “Sorry. I just… It sucks to be awakened by cold water falling from the ceiling and then not have anyplace else to go.”

“Here,” Preston held out his hand. “Give me your room key and I’ll go get your things while you take a hot shower.”

Brady blinked up at him. “Room key? Shit. I didn’t think to grab it.”

Preston shrugged. “No problem. I’ll go get a key from the manager and get your things while you take a hot shower. How’s that sound?”

“Okay. I guess.” Brady thought fast, wondering if he had left anything incriminating lying around, like the condoms and lube he had packed just in case he managed to slip away and meet someone at a bar. Or the slim dildo he had brought to experiment with while he had the luxury of a room to himself and no nosy roommates listening from the other side of the wall. The long drive had left Brady too tired to try it out earlier that evening, so he thought he had left all those things in the side pocket of his bag.

“I’ll be back in a flash.” Preston scooped up the key to his own room and stepped out into the raging storm.

Brady stood up and leaned close to the window to watch Preston hurry along the balcony toward the steps, his clothes already soaked by rain. He sighed and turned to look around the room at Preston’s clothes draped over the vinyl armchair, the flattened pillows and kicked aside sheet, Preston’s wallet and phone left out on the dresser.

Pulling the curtains closed, Brady shut out the lightning and heavy rainfall. He approached the bed and lifted one of the pillows, clutching it in both hands and pressing it to his face. He took a deep breath, then sneered and tossed the pillow back on the bed. Bleach and a heavy duty detergent was the only scent he could detect, not a whiff of Preston.

He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, pausing to look over Preston’s toiletries. The disposable razor Preston used to keep the sides of his goatee trimmed. His toothbrush leaning drunkenly in a plastic drinking cup. The deodorant Preston favored, and which Brady uncapped to sniff. Definitely Preston’s normal brand, the smell of which made Brady’s cock twitch.

A heavy rumble of thunder made him jump and he set the deodorant down before turning to switch on the shower. The hot spray felt good, warmed him, soothed his anxiety. He lathered up with Preston’s body wash, closing his eyes and breathing in the familiar, clean, crisp scent that made him hard. He took himself in a soapy hand and stroked slowly, thinking about Preston – the man’s strong, masculine body, the thick shaft dangling between his legs, his powerful, hairy thighs.

“Brady? I’m back!”

The door slammed, making Brady jump, and he opened his eyes as his stroke faltered. Dammit, he had been so close!

A knock on the bathroom door made him jump again, followed by Preston asking quietly, “You okay in there?”

Brady cleared his throat. “Yep. Almost done. Out in a minute. Did you get my things?”

“Got everything. Take your time.”

Brady sighed and turned his face into the spray of water as he switched the faucet from warm to cold and bit back a surprised shout. This just wasn’t his night.


Chapter Seven

Preston lay on his back, stiff as a board in all physical aspects as he stared at the ceiling. He could hear Brady breathing beside him, just a few inches away on the other side of the mattress. After each of them had offered to sleep on the floor, a quick inspection of the carpet had turned up an old toenail clipping as well as a yellowed cigarette butt. That was when they had both finally agreed to just share the bed.

And Preston lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling with two more hours until sunrise.

“You awake?” Brady’s voice from the darkness startled Preston and made his pulse jump.


“Can’t sleep, eh?”

“Nope. You either?”


They sighed in tandem, then laughed. Lightning illuminated the room like a photo flash, followed by the angry rumble of thunder.

“Some storm,” Brady said. “Think we’ll be able to leave in the morning?”

Preston shook his head, then realized Brady couldn’t see him. “I don’t know. Not if it’s raining this hard, it would be too dangerous.”

“Guess we’d be stuck here another night sharing a bed,” Brady said, and the laugh that followed sounded nervous.

“Yeah, guess so.” Preston took a deep, quiet breath and tried to will his stomach to stop trembling.

“Never thought we’d end up in bed together,” Brady said.

Preston cursed his sudden erection, wondered how to hide it without seeming too obvious. “Yeah, me neither.”

“I mean, you’re like the wizard of the company,” Brady said, the words loose and rambling, as if he was just talking to fill the silence. “You know how to fix every problem. And I mean really fix it. You get to the root of all our code issues and make shit work right, not just slap a quick fix in place like most guys would do.”

“Well, I’ve been working a few years longer than all you youngsters,” Preston said. “And you’re learning how to do that same thing, Brady. You’re really catching on fast.”

“You think so?”

Preston turned his head to look at the shadowed outline of Brady’s profile. “Absolutely.”

Another flash of lightning illuminated Brady’s face where it was turned toward Preston, left the image burned into Preston’s brain afterward. He could see Brady’s wide eyes, full lips slightly parted, narrow nose gently upturned at the tip, and his dark hair spiraled in disarray from being wet when he’d lain down.

“Wow,” Brady whispered as the darkness fell around them again. “The lightning just now made your eyes look really blue.”

Preston swallowed hard and turned away to stare up at the ceiling again as his cock throbbed and pre-cum stained the front of his boxers. “Oh?” was all he could manage.

“Sorry,” Brady said, and laughed nervously. “I guess that sounded really gay.”

Preston clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. It was now or never. He would either get fired for sexual harassment, or he and Brady would end up together. Either way, it was up to him to make the first move. He was older, he had more experience, and Brady was just too beautiful to have to come on to anyone. Preston was sure men approached Brady all the time.

But this time, it appeared Brady was making the first move.

The heavy touch of Brady’s palm over the hot, sensitive shaft of Preston’s throbbing cock made him gasp.

“Holy shit, you’re hard as rock,” Brady said.

“Yeah,” Preston said, his voice trembling. “I have been since we left LA.”



“I think we need to do something about that,” Brady said, and rolled up against him.

Preston turned his head and met Brady’s mouth in a kiss. The feel of those full, perfect lips pressed against his own almost made Preston blow his load right then and there. But he controlled himself and focused on the soft, slick tip of Brady’s tongue as it moved along the seam of his lips.

Preston opened his mouth and Brady’s tongue pushed inside, tangled with Preston’s and sent chills zipping through him. Preston ran his hands along Brady’s smooth chest, amazed at the softness of the man’s skin. His thumbs flicked over Brady’s nipples, earning a groan. He rolled the hard points between his fingers as they kissed, tongues wallowing back and forth. Preston could not get enough of Brady: the man’s lips, mouth, tongue, and skin. He wanted to run his tongue over every inch, taste Brady’s skin, his sweat, his pre-cum and, finally, gloriously, his cum.

Moving down from Brady’s lips, Preston suckled at the skin that covered the area between his neck and shoulder. He nipped at the spot, then soothed it with a lick, earning a gasp from Brady.

“Oh, yeah,” Brady said. “I love having my neck sucked.”

Preston spent a few minutes indulging himself there, then moved lower to take Brady’s nipple between his teeth and give it a tug. He flicked his tongue over the reddened point and licked across the width of Brady’s chest to do the same to the other nipple. Brady groaned and writhed beneath him, the stiff length of his cock pressing into Preston’s belly.

Anxious now, Preston slid lower, trailing his tongue over Brady’s flat stomach. He pushed the cotton boxers down Brady’s legs and licked along the hard line of his cock. At the base, Preston paused to suck on the sensitive skin that joined Brady’s cock to his balls, then moved slowly back to the tip. He lapped at the clear, bitter fluid, swirled his tongue around the silken cap, then swallowed him whole.

“Oh, fuuuuuucckkk,” Brady moaned.

Preston slowly sucked Brady’s cock. He savored the mix of tastes: salty sweat and bitter pre-cum. Brady was the perfect size for Preston’s throat: long enough to fill it, but stopping just at the point of gagging. Preston painted Brady’s cock with his tongue, gripped it tight at the base, and swallowed it to the root once more. Brady writhed beneath him, rolling his head back and forth and gripping the sheet in his fists.

Releasing Brady’s cock, Preston walked on his knees along the mattress until he was between Brady’s legs. He leaned down and sucked Brady’s balls, not surprised to find them shaved smooth. Of course Brady would keep himself meticulously manscaped, he was twenty-five years old and had been raised with a flood of metrosexual imagery. Preston licked and sucked Brady’s balls, slowly raising the man’s legs in the process and allowing himself to ease his tongue lower to flick over the satin folds of Brady’s asshole.

“God, that feels so fucking good,” Brady said. “I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me.”

Preston’s cock jumped. Brady Sparrow wanted to be fucked by him. Preston couldn’t believe it. Brady was here, sprawled out before him, asking to be fucked. And it was no dream.

“Are you sure?” Preston asked.

Brady raised his head and looked down at him. “Please.”

“I don’t…” Preston swallowed as his cock throbbed – eager, it seemed, to be snug inside Brady’s ass. “I don’t have anything. For protection.”

“I do.” Brady pointed across the room. “In my shaving kit.”

Preston was across the room in a moment, digging through Brady’s shaving kit. He found several condoms and a small bottle of lube and hurried back to the bed. In moments, even with his trembling hands, Preston had rolled on the condom and slicked himself up.

Before he could get back into position between Brady’s legs, the man sat up on the mattress and put a hand on the back of Preston’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. With the other hand, Brady slowly stroked Preston’s sheathed cock.

“You’re so fat,” Brady said, his lips just touching Preston’s.

Preston pulled back. “What?”

In a flash of lightning, Preston could see Brady’s confused expression. Then Brady seemed to realize what he had said and shook his head. “No, not like that. Your cock. It’s really thick.”

“Oh.” Preston let out a low laugh, relieved. “Well, that’s good. Right?”

“Oh yeah.” Brady gave him another quick kiss and lay back, lifting his legs. “It’s really good.”

Preston moved in close, felt his cock tap against Brady’s entrance, and then he slipped inside. The hot, slick grip of Brady’s muscles closed around him, and they groaned in tandem.

“God, you feel good,” Preston said. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Brady assured him. “It feels really good.”

Preston eased himself in until he was fully seated. Pausing, he braced himself above Brady, hands fisted on the mattress. He stared down into Brady’s face barely visible in the flashes of lightning and the glow of the parking lot lights through the open blinds.

“You’re beautiful,” Preston whispered.

Brady was quiet for a long moment, and Preston wondered if he’d said something wrong. But then, finally, Brady said in a quiet voice, “No one’s ever told me that before.”

“Well, they should have.” Preston leaned down for a quick kiss before pulling his hips back so just the tip of his cock was inside him, just as he had dreamed.

Then he fucked him. Preston was a husky man, he realized this, and he used it to his advantage. He had wide shoulders and hips that held a lot of strength, and he knew how to work them. He pumped steadily into Brady, felt the man’s legs bounce against this shoulders, heard the “Unh,” that each thrust pushed out of Brady’s lips, smelled the sweat pouring off him and into the sheets they would sleep on later.

He tried to focus on each sensation as it spun through him. He wanted to remember this night forever, each taste, every sound, the feel of Brady beneath and around him. There would never be another first time with Brady. Hopefully there would be a second, and a third, and even more after that, but this first time was the only one they were going to get, and Preston wanted to remember it.

But it wasn’t long before Preston felt himself getting close. He blew out a heavy breath, closed his eyes, tried not to dwell on how it felt to be inside Brady, kept himself from focusing on the tight grasp of Brady’s body around him. If he could just hold off until Brady finished, Preston would be able to come without feeling like he had cheated the man. He didn’t want to slow his thrusts because Brady kept grunting encouragements, but he was almost there.

“God,” Brady said, “you’re so fucking big. You keep hitting my spot like that and I’m going to blow.”

Preston kept his eyes closed, made himself think of work, counted the number of systems stowed in the back of the van (twenty-one), the number of cables (an even fifty), and the number of states they had driven across so far (five). The distraction helped. His orgasm backed off, and he was able to pump even faster into Brady.

“Fuck yeah,” Brady cried out. “I’m coming. Yeah. Keep it going, just there. Like that. Oh, yeah.”

Brady stroked himself to a splattering climax. As the rain battered the window and thunder crashed overhead, Preston tipped back his head and let out a shout at the ceiling as he came. He saw stars behind his eyes as he emptied himself inside the condom. It felt like hours, days, weeks, and when it was over he lay atop Brady, still inside him, and let the man’s cum smear across his own belly and chest.

They shared a slow, gentle kiss as Preston slipped out of Brady. He peeled off the condom and wrapped it in a tissue, then pulled Brady into the crook of his arm.

“Was it good for you?” Preston asked, then winced up at the ceiling. How cliché could he be?

Brady chuckled, ran fingers through the hair on Preston’s chest. “Yeah, it was. I never thought we’d hook up like this.”


“No, I thought…” Brady stopped, seemed to consider his words. “I guess I just thought I wasn’t smart enough for you.”

Preston kissed Brady’s forehead. “Stop that talk. You’re very smart, and don’t you forget it.”

Before Brady could respond, a loud crackling-crunching-screeching sound made the hair on Preston’s arms stand up.

“What the fuck was that?” Brady asked, lifting his head and looking toward the window.

The motel shook around them, and in the parking lot car alarms screamed into the heavy rain.

Preston got out of bed, Brady following right behind, and they stood side by side at the window, squinting through the rain-washed glass.

“Are the cars moving?” Brady asked. “Or is it the rain?”

Understanding sent an arrow of cold dread through Preston. He turned from the window to grab his clothes, shouting, “Get dressed! Get dressed! It’s a flash flood!”

~~ * ~~

Oh hell, Preston and Brady are in a bit of a mess! But they had fun making messes of themselves before that flash flood hit. Boy howdy! Check back in next Monday to see what happens with this flash flood, and don’t forget that all this month I’m re-posting the first four chapters of my paranormal story, Critter Catchers, every Wednesday as the Road Trip stories play out. Think of them as the Story Orgy version of summer reruns, getting you ready for Demetrius and Cody to return in September. For now, however, get your Christmas flash prompt ideas sent in by August 15th, and hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy Road Trip reads!

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor


1 Comment

Story Orgy – Road Trip, Part One

Good morning, Story Orgiasts! And welcome to the first of FIVE Road Trip story posts, hot smexy reads intended to capture that summer road trip feeling. My story was inspired by the prompts sent in by Myristica Onenine: workaholic businessman, travel west coast to east coast, flash flood. From those three items I came up with a story titled Cross Country Foreplay. I can’t wait for you to meet Brady and Preston, but first, some announcements.

Breathless Press has opened a new website– it’s shiny and pretty and just in time for the celebration of their third year as a publisher. To celebrate BP’s Birthday and the new website, Havan and Lee have some short free reads available for download. They release on August 1, but you can pre-order them now. And did you get the fact that they are FREE?! Lee’s story, Nothing to Forgive, is HERE. And Havan’s Lucky Night, is HERE.

And, this Friday, Lee Brazil’s Naughty Nursery Rhyme, It’s Simple, Simon releases exclusively from Breathless Press. You can pre-order your copy today HERE.

Finally … Though the Road Trip Serial Anthology starts today, your Story Orgy writers are ALWAYS planning ahead! We’re drafting something very special for the December holiday season- and we’d love to have your prompts. What we need from you is just a few words…a person (not a name), a place, and a thing…at least one item should be holiday related…for example…

person- Accountant
place- bank lobby
thing- gingerbread man

That’s it. Your prompts could be selected to inspire a story for Volume 2 of And The Prompt Is, The Holiday Edition.

Feel free to leave your suggestion in a comment here, or email it to storyorgy(at)ymail(dot)com.

Whew! Okay, that’s it! Time to start the station wagon and hit the open road! Thanks to the amazing Startled Monkeys Media for the cover to our Road Trip edition ebook. Whew! That’s a long, hot stretch of open road!

Cross Country Foreplay

Story Orgy Road Trip, Part One

by Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

Chapter One

“Brady? You awake?”

The voice drilled into Brady’s dream, chasing away the image of the nude, hot, hung guy Brady had been about to suck off. He rubbed his eyes, squinted against the bright white sun, and looked around. Yep, it was all as he left it before drifting off to sleep — trapped in a van driving cross country with none other than Preston Brissett, otherwise known as Bald Spot Brissett, or BSB to the rest of the guys Brady worked with at Techmagine.

Brady yawned and sat up higher in the passenger seat. His mouth tasted like sand, which was hardly a surprise, seeing as how they were driving through the desert. He rubbed his eyes some more and then made himself turn his head toward the driver’s side, trying to force the graphic images of his dream out of his mind.

Preston glanced over and grinned at him. The man’s dark blond hair was kind of long for such a prominent bald spot in back, and he was a little heavier than he should be. A neatly trimmed goatee surrounded his mouth, and the sunlight through the windshield sparkled in his blue eyes.

“Welcome back to the land of the wakeful,” Preston said. “Gas station up ahead. Need a pee break?”

Brady looked away and nodded. Preston was a cheerful driver, and Brady was still trying to wake up from his nap. “Yeah. A break would be good.”

The gas station was the typical highway rest stop: an acre of concrete, rows of pumps huddling from the sun beneath an aluminum overhang, and tackily dressed tourists wandering bleary-eyed through the heat from the air conditioned interiors of their cars to the air conditioned interior of the building.

Preston eased the van up alongside a pump and flashed Brady a tentative smile. “I’ll pay for the gas. Think you might want to drive for a while?”

Brady shrugged. “Sure. Where are we?”

“Just crossed the state line into Arizona.” Preston held up his cell phone, the exact same model as Brady’s. “I thought we’d take I-40 through Arizona and New Mexico, if that’s okay with you? You were asleep and I just made the decision. Better to beg for forgiveness rather than ask for permission, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Brady said, “whatever.” He opened the door and the dry heat sucked the moisture from his mouth. It was like stepping into a blast furnace. Brady let out a gasp and hurried to the doors of the station.

After using the restroom, Brady opened a cooler door and grabbed a few Red Bulls for himself. He started for the register, but caught a glimpse of Preston cleaning the bugs off the windshield, a line of sweat staining the back of his shirt, and he stopped. It was still tough for Brady to realize that just two days ago he and Preston had been lured into the office of Cameron Rooke, founder and CEO of Techmagine. Cameron had talked to them about the importance of flexibility for start-up companies, especially tech companies, and how positive word of mouth was the fastest path to true growth.

Brady had nodded along, tried to look invested in the conversation, but his mind was darting around like a hummingbird on crack. He was in the CEO’s office, having a conversation with Cameron Rooke himself! Brady managed to get his thoughts under control and zoned in on Cameron’s words again. He didn’t know what Cameron was leading up to, he just knew the CEO had selected him out of the entire, hungry office staff for a special project, and he was going to jump at it no matter how many late nights it took.

Then Cameron had dropped the bomb about the client in Boston, as in Massachusetts – as in across the fucking country – and their request for personal training on the Techmagine system. It was a great opportunity, and he knew that Brady and Preston were the right team to get it done and get it done right. Because they would need to set up an entire classroom of equipment for training, they needed to drive a van loaded down with computers. It was going to take three days to drive there, a week to complete the training, and three more days to drive home.

All that time spent with Preston right at his side.

Brady didn’t know if he should be excited or annoyed at the opportunity. He had always thought Preston was sexy in his own way, a fact he would never tell any of the other coders he worked with, especially not Phillip Holt, who had coined the nickname BSB. It was a mean name, and Phillip was a mean person through and through, but Brady didn’t want the guy to know his thoughts about Preston, good or bad. Truth was, Brady had never really considered Preston as a sexual person. The guy wore baggy khakis and button-down shirts to the office with a few ties that he changed up every now and then.

Brady turned back to the cooler and stood looking at the drink selection. Preston liked a specific flavor of Vitamin Water, but what was it? Brady let his gaze roam the bottles and colors, then finally remembered. He had been watching porn on his computer while he waited for Preston to show up, and when he had gotten in the van the name of the drink had made him think of the scene he’d just watched and he blushed: Vitamin Water XXX.

He grabbed three bottles of XXX out of the cooler, paid for the drinks, then crossed the blazing heat of the concrete lot to the van where Preston was just grabbing the gas receipt out of the pump.

“Grabbed you some drinks,” Brady said, and reached in the bag to pull one out. “This the right flavor?”

Preston looked at him and, if Brady wasn’t seeing things, he actually blushed.

“Oh, that was nice. Yeah… Yes, that’s the flavor I like.” Preston stood looking at him for a moment, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the gas station. “I’ll just go in and use the restroom, then we can go. Gas is paid for.”

“Yeah, okay, sounds good.” Brady gestured. “I’ll pull over here to free up the pump.”

“Good idea,” Preston said and nodded a few times before turning to hurry to the station.

Brady watched him go, smirked at the sunlight that gleamed off the sheen of sweat coating his bald spot. BSB was a mean name, but it did fit. Had to give Phillip props for creativity. Then Brady’s gaze automatically dropped to check out BSB’s ass, surprised to find it a meaty, high, rounded swell beneath his jeans.

Looked like BSB worked out, something Brady and the other young guys at the office never imagined for the guy since they couldn’t tell it beneath his baggy khakis. Brady watched a moment longer, then got in the van, and pulled off to the side to wait for his passenger.


Chapter Two

Preston leaned down at the bathroom sink and splashed cold water on his face. He looked up into the mirror, right into the reflected blue of his eyes, and tried to will himself to calm the fuck down.

But how could he calm down when here he was, traveling cross-country with Brady Sparrow, the hottest guy he worked with at Techmagine? It was crazy, really, how it all came about. Cameron and Preston had met years ago at another company and hit it off. When Cameron had left that company to start Techmagine, he’d asked Preston to come with him, and Preston had been employee number two. Now they were up to eighty-seven employees, and Preston was doing just what he loved to do: crunching code and solving problems for people.

Cameron had offered him some fancy titles the past few years as they built the company, but Preston had been happy right where he was. He didn’t need a corner office and a VP after his name. Cameron took care of him financially, and Preston took care of things in the cube farm. He liked to sit right in the middle of all the developers, hearing them talk back and forth over the cube walls about problems and user interface issues. So many issues were solved right there on the development team floor, it really gave Preston a sense of accomplishment.

But never had he dreamed he’d end up on a trip like this, driving across the country, able to see all the historic spots and landmarks along the way. And never, ever, did he dare to dream he’d be doing it with someone as hot as Brady. Preston shook his head and turned to the urinal. He tried not to think about Brady’s full lips, thick, dark hair styled to look like he’d just rolled out of bed, and those cool blue eyes. Not when he was trying to pee, at least. Instead, Preston closed his eyes and thought about the drive ahead, the long stretches of highway that lay before them.

Preston had always dreamed of taking a cross-country road trip. He wanted to see the sites of America, watch the farmlands roll by, stop at roadside diners and talk with people who did so much more than Preston to keep the engine of the country running. And now, here he was, doing just that, and with Brady Sparrow in the seat beside him.

While he washed his hands, Preston thought some more about Brady. Not the physical stuff, that was too easy, but about the man’s work ethic and abilities. Brady was twenty-five, self-assured, and more than capable of getting his work done, he just needed to snap out of his Y-gen attitude. Maybe on this trip, Preston could break down some of the barriers Brady used to keep people at arm’s length, help him see all the potential he kept bottled up inside.

With a final look in the mirror to check his hair, wincing slightly at the sight of his bald spot shining under the fluorescent lights, Preston left the restroom.

 * * * * *

Brady’s lips felt as soft as Preston had always imagined. The kiss started out tender, questioning, then quickly morphed into something hungry and frantic as their tongues warred for dominance. Brady slid his hands through the hair on Preston’s chest, palmed the round bulges of his pecs, and tweaked his nipples. Preston groaned around Brady’s tongue, felt the impatient length of the man’s cock against his own.

Preston flipped Brady onto his back, and lay on top of him, his bulkier, hairy body covering Brady’s smooth, toned torso. He slid down to take each pink nipple between his teeth and flick it with his tongue, earning groans and sounds he never thought he’d hear from Brady. Moving lower, Preston paused to take in the sight of Brady’s cock, let it rest in the palm of his hand as he studied its pale length. The wide, pink head, the lines of veins moving up and down like the GPS guiding their way across the country.

The taste of Brady’s skin flared across Preston’s tongue as he dragged it from root to tip. At the top, he swallowed Brady whole, felt the soft brush of pubic hair against his nose, breathed in the raw scent of his sweat. Brady squirmed and gasped beneath him, wanting more, always more, and Preston was going to give it to him. As he sucked Brady’s cock, Preston eased the younger man’s legs up, lightly circled the rugged pucker of Brady’s exposed hole with his finger.

“Lube’s in my bag,” Brady said.

In a moment, Preston was slicked up and pressing into the damp heat of Brady’s body, unable to believe this was actually happening. After months of fantasizing about Brady, Preston was finally here, with him, driving his cock deep inside Brady’s finely sculpted body.

“Oh, Preston,” Brady groaned. “Yeah, you feel so good inside me. Fuck me. Harder.”

Preston quickened the pace of his hips, his cock a blur as it drove deep into Brady’s hungry hole. He was close, he could feel his orgasm building, and, as he watched Brady’s balls pull up, he knew Brady was as well. Preston wanted them to come together the first time, wanted to shoot his load inside Brady as the man let loose with his own release. He drove his hips fast, faster still, felt Brady’s muscles tighten around him as the man edged closer to orgasm.

A bump in the road jarred Preston awake, and he sat up in the seat to look around in confusion. He was hard, painfully so, and a damp spot of pre-cum had formed in his jeans. Looking around, Preston found Brady looking at him, really looking at him instead of just glancing like usual.

“I was dreaming,” Preston said, turning away to hide a blush. “I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” Brady said, and from the corner of his eye, Preston saw him turn back to the road.

“Yeah.” Preston took a breath of the chill, stale air inside the van, then let it out slowly. “So, where are we?”

Brady pointed to one of the nooks in the dashboard. “Check my phone’s GPS.”

Preston took the touch-screen phone in his hand and stared at it a moment. This was Brady’s phone; Brady held it close to his mouth when he had a call, touched it with the pads of his fingers, slipped it into his front pocket where it lay close to his cock and balls. Preston had to fight back the urge to lift the phone to his nose and take a deep breath, try to pull in the scent of Brady’s crotch. Instead, he touched the screen and saw the blue dot that represented the van moving along highway I-40 east, coming up fast on Williams, Arizona, and the intersection of highway 64 north.

“Wait!” Preston exclaimed as a shudder of surprise rippled through him.

Brady jumped in the seat and hit the brakes, hard. The nose of the van tipped down toward the pavement, and Preston heard the screech of tires behind them. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the impact, and cursed himself for shouting like that. What an idiot he was!


Chapter Three

Brady pulled off to the side of the road and put the van in park. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, ignoring the honks and shouts from drivers easing past. When he had caught his breath, Brady sat up and turned to glare at Preston.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Brady shouted. “We could have been killed!”

“I’m sorry!” Preston shouted back. The man practically cowered against the door, not looking Brady in the eye.

“Why did you shout for me to stop?” Brady waved toward the windshield. “I thought we were about to hit something.”

“I didn’t say for you to stop,” Preston said, his voice going up, and then plummeting to something just a bit louder than a mumble. “I said to wait.”

“Wait?” Brady looked around. “Wait for what?”

Preston cleared his throat and shifted in the seat. “There was a side trip I wanted to make.”

Brady leaned closer to Preston, sighed when the man flinched. “Look, I’m not going to hit you, Preston, okay? Just relax.”

Preston let out his breath and finally met Brady’s gaze. Brady didn’t know if it was because of the sun coming in through the windshield, or the deep blue of the sky reflecting in them, but Preston’s eyes shone even more brilliantly blue than before. In that moment, as Brady leaned toward Preston and looked into the man’s eyes, he realized that Preston was, really and truly, quite handsome.

And that realization disturbed him, made him angry all over again.

“You wanted to make a side trip?” Brady said, his tone sharp.

Preston took a breath. “Yes. I wanted to stop at the Grand Canyon.”

Brady hung his head and took deep breaths to cool his temper. Finally, when he felt in control, he looked up at Preston. “You want to stop at the Grand Canyon?”

Preston nodded. “We’re going right past. It’s about an hour up 64.”

“That’s two hours out of our way, you know,” Brady said. “We’re due in Boston by the end of this week.”

“Exactly,” Preston said, and turned in the seat to face him. “We’ve got four days, so plenty of time for a couple of side trips like this. Come on, Brady, have you ever been to the Grand Canyon?”

Brady looked out the windshield. Highway I-40 unspooled ahead of them in a long, flat, gray line flanked on both sides by trees. He thought about a family vacation once, him and his brother and sister crammed together on the bench seat of the minivan because the back was packed with luggage. The three of them wore Walkman headphones, ignoring each other, but even as Brady had listened to “Macarena” by Los Del Rio for the five-hundredth time, he could tell his parents in the front seat were ignoring each other as well.

His family had not done anything as fun as visit the Grand Canyon. They had driven for hours without stopping, his father on some sort of mission to break a personal travel record to Brady’s aunt’s house in Louisville, Kentucky. All Brady could remember were hours of boredom and the sweaty press of his brother’s leg against his own.

A truck rumbled past and the van shook in its wake, bringing him back to the present. He looked at Preston, took in the man’s worried gaze and the dark blond goatee around his mouth.

Brady shook his head. “No. I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon.”

Preston’s eyes widened. “Me neither! I think we’re the last two people alive to not have seen it!”

Despite the situation, Brady chuckled. “Well, I don’t think that’s true, but I’m sure a lot of other people have seen it before us.”

Preston smiled, and the way it lit up his face made Brady feel a zing of attraction that left him uncomfortable and confused. This was Bald Spot Brissett, the oldest member of the developer team; what the hell was he thinking?

“Come on, Brady,” Preston egged him on. “I guarantee you’ll be happy we made this little side trip.”

Brady shook his head, glanced at Preston out of the corner of his eye, and tried to sound annoyed when he said, “Any other little side trips you have on your mind?”

Preston cleared his throat and looked away. “A few.”

Brady rolled his eyes and shifted into drive, checking the side mirror as he said, “Well, let me know about them a little more calmly than you did this time, okay?”


Chapter Four


Preston smiled. It was the tenth time Brady had whispered the word. And, when he looked out over the vast chasm of the Grand Canyon, Preston could find no better word. He tried to get his mind to make sense of what he was seeing, but it was difficult. The striations of color that no camera could effectively capture, the sheer immensity of the canyon itself as it wound away into the hazy distance, and the fact that he stood there in awe beside Brady Sparrow, all boggled Preston’s mind.

As if summoned by Preston’s thoughts, Brady turned to look at him, eyes wide, perfect lips parted in a smile. “Amazing.”

“You’ve said that,” Preston pointed out. “More than ten times.”

Brady turned to look out over the canyon again, shaking his head. “There’s just no other word. I feel so small and unimportant right now.”

Preston nodded and leaned forward on the railing to peer down. The distance was dizzying, and the colors and formations no less breathtaking. “It does kind of put things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.” Brady turned to look at him. “You’ve never been here before either?”

Preston straightened up and shook his head. “Nope. That’s why I shouted ‘Wait!’ in the van.” He gave Brady a sheepish glance. “Sorry again about that.”

Brady waved the apology off and turned to gawk at the canyon once more. He suddenly jerked and reached to feel his pockets. “I need a picture of this. Of us. Standing here.”

Preston’s heart seemed to stumble. Had Brady just said of us? Preston licked his lips and had to focus to keep his voice steady when he said, “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Where’s my phone?” Brady glanced back along the trail toward the parking lot where they had left the van. “Dammit. I left my phone in the van.” He looked out over the canyon, then turned back to Preston. “I’m going to run back and get my phone.”

“I’ve got mine,” Preston offered, holding up his phone. “It’s the same as yours.”

“We can use yours, too,” Brady said. “But I want some pics on my phone, too.”

“Want me to come with you?” Preston asked.

“No, no.” Brady shook his head. “Stay here and enjoy the view. I’ll be back pretty quick. It’s just like being on the treadmill at the fitness center at work.”

Preston watched him jog off, eyes dropping to the curve of Brady’s ass where it moved beneath his cargo shorts. When Brady was out of view, Preston turned back to look out over the canyon. Off in the distance, a large bird floated on the air currents, and he wondered if it might be a bald eagle. His gaze followed the bird as it circled above the canyon, then he looked down along the striped walls to where the river curved below. At that moment, standing there waiting for Brady as the eagle glided through the air, Preston felt more at peace than at any other time in his life.

* * * * *

Brady found his phone in the dashboard nook and checked the battery. Just under fifty percent, plenty of juice to get some photos and maybe a short video of the canyon. As he leaned out of the van, he caught sight of the button-down shirt Preston had been wearing over his T-shirt. It lay crumpled across the passenger seat where Preston had tossed it after stepping out of the van.

As he hesitated, three families wandered past, kids divided equally between over-excited and absolutely bored, and Brady watched them go, then looked back at the shirt. He had a sudden urge to reach out and gather the shirt to his face, breathe in the smell of Preston Brissett. But that would be crazy, right?

With a shake of his head, Brady closed the van door and made sure it was locked. He stood still for a moment, confused, wondering where the craving to smell Preston’s shirt had come from. Granted, BSB wasn’t as old or stodgy as he appeared to be back in the office, but Brady had never once thought of Preston in a sexual way. Not until he had noticed the shape of Preston’s face and the blue of his eyes when he had pulled the van over to the side of the road. Oh, and the swell of his ass as he had walked to the gas station to use the restroom, couldn’t forget that.

“Get a grip,” Brady whispered to himself. “You’re just gushing over the Grand Canyon, and that’s bleeding over into thoughts of Preston.”

With that settled, Brady jogged back along the trail, passing the slow-moving herd of families halfway along the trail. When he reached the overlook, Brady was breathing hard and covered with a sheen of sweat. He paused at the mouth of the trail to catch his breath. With his hands on his knees, Brady looked up toward the viewing area and felt something shift low in his belly.

The sun angled toward the west now and flooded the open area with golden light. Preston was the only visitor, groups of families having come and gone, and the man sat on a picnic table looking out on the canyon. The light shimmered along Preston’s arms, setting the blond hair across his forearms aglow. It illuminated the breadth of his shoulders, and Brady noticed for the first time that Preston was stocky instead of fat, and it appeared he worked out.

When his breathing had slowed, Brady crossed to where Preston sat, and the man turned to smile at him.

“Find your phone okay?”

Brady pulled it from his pocket and held it up. “Right where I left it.”

“Good.” Preston pointed. “An eagle’s been circling. See it?”

Brady stepped to the rail and looked out over the view. He heard Preston step down off the picnic table and found himself hoping the man would stand beside him. Before he could push the thought down, Preston did, indeed, move up beside him, close enough for Brady to feel the sun-warmed heat of Preston’s arm next to his own.

“It’s like a backdrop for a movie or something,” Brady said. “I still can’t believe it’s all real.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way.” Preston held out his hand. “Want me to get a picture of you here?”

“Oh, yeah, that would be great.” Brady handed over his phone, jumping when his fingers brushed Preston’s. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No problem,” Preston said, and Brady thought he heard a tremor in the man’s voice, wondered what might have caused it. Was Preston nervous around him?

“See the camera app?” Brady asked.

“No. Your apps are arranged differently than mine.” Preston held out the phone. “Where is it?”

Brady cupped his hand beneath Preston’s to hold the phone steady, savoring the physical contact. As Brady swiped apps aside and then touched the camera icon, his cock stood up and took notice of the contact, flooding his mind with images of Preston above, beneath, and inside him.

“There, should be set,” Brady said, and, reluctantly, released his hold on Preston’s hand.

“Good. Okay. Lean back against the railing,” Preston instructed as he took a few steps back. “Smile. Good.”

Brady heard the click of the photo, and then the scream of one of the young kids in the families trooping closer. He reached out for the phone with one hand, and Preston with the other, moving quickly, acting on instinct and not allowing himself to think through what he was doing.

“Come sit here on the railing with me,” Brady said. “Let’s get a picture together.”

“Oh, okay.” Preston turned around and leaned his butt on the railing a foot away. He crossed his arms and looked out at the phone Brady held up.

“You need to move closer,” Brady said. “We’re not both in the shot.”

“Yeah, sure.” Preston cleared his throat as he slid closer. “Good?”

“No. Still out of the shot. Closer.” Brady lifted his hand that rested on the railing and reached out to put his arm around Preston’s shoulders. A tingle of attraction zipped through him, but he ignored it, forced himself to focus on getting the picture. He had reversed the camera to use the tiny lens on the front of the phone and could see the image of the two of them there. The full length of Preston’s side pressed against Brady’s, their bodies exchanging heat, their skin sweat-sticky where it touched.

Brady clicked off a few pictures of him and Preston smiling with the deep expanse of the canyon in the background. As he took the final picture, the pack of families burst out of the trail. The children rushed ahead of their parents to swarm around Brady and Preston, screaming as they clambered up on the fence.

Preston stepped away from Brady and they looked at each other, grinning.

“Time to move on?” Preston asked.

“Definitely.” Brady said.

They made their way along the trail, talking about the canyon, the invading families, and the road ahead.

“Any other stops you want to make today?” Brady asked.

“No more for today,” Preston said with a shake of his head. “Just need to get to the hotel tonight.”

“How far is that?” Brady wondered.

“Probably another four hours,” Preston replied. “I’ll drive for a while if you want.”

Brady nodded. “Sounds good. And maybe some dinner along the way?”

Preston grinned at him. “I read about a place, if you’re interested.”

Brady nodded, then looked away as he thought that, yes, he might, indeed, be interested.

~~ * ~~

I hope you enjoyed meeting Brady and Preston. They have a long drive ahead of them, and I think they’re going to find out a lot more about each other. Good news for you Parson’s Hollow fans, I’ll be re-posting the first four chapters every Wednesday as the Road Trip stories play out. Think of them as the Story Orgy version of summer reruns, getting you ready for Demetrius and Cody to return in September. For now, however, get your Christmas flash prompt ideas sent in by August 15th, and hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy Road Trip reads!

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor



A Hot Piece of … Art, Chapter 11 (NSFW)

Good Monday morning Story Orgiasts! It’s the last Monday in June (what?!?!) and I’ve got the final chapter of Charlie’s latest adventure all queued up for you. It’s bittersweet, I know, because I love hanging out with Charlie and all his crazy (and hot!) friends, but Charlie goes out with a “bang,” so to speak, so I think you’ll enjoy it. But no worries, a new story begins in July, something I think  you’re going to love just as much.

A few announcements before I turn you loose on the story.

My novella, Hired Muscle, is up for pre-order at Silver Publishing. It releases on Saturday, July 7. Click on over and queue it up today! Don’t  you just love that cover?

Lee Brazil is having a contest! Click on over to his author page here and follow the guidelines for your chance to win a copy of his upcoming story, Saint’s Curse, available Friday, 7/6, from Breathless Press. You can preorder a copy today!

Havan Fellows’s latest release, the 3rd book in her Synchronous Seductions series, Geoff’s Teddy, will release on 7/20 from Breathless Press. You can preorder a copy today!

Thanks as always to the lovely French lady, Jade Baiser, for our pic of the week. Le sigh…

A Hot Piece of … Art

Chapter Eleven

Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

 The final day Charlie and Billy were to spend at the art studio dawned clear and cool. They took turns taking sponge baths in the bathroom, cleaning up for their final sex visitors of the week. As Charlie stood looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he found he was looking forward to 6:00 PM when his contract ended and he could get dressed and return to his small apartment. Maybe Rock would be there waiting to take him to dinner, or out to a club, or just for a walk on the beach to watch the sunset.

If anything, the past week had proven to Charlie that casual sex no longer interested him. He missed the connection he had with Rock, the conversation and laughter, the teasing and, of course, the sex. He really, really missed the sex.

There was a bigger crowd than they had seen the last few days. Maybe the police activity overnight had peaked people’s interests again. Charlie sat on his futon and looked around the studio, trying not to make eye contact with any of the patrons. Hawkington had taken down all of Rafael Fothergill’s paintings, leaving only bare white walls. The studio owner had said the blank walls were a statement, but Charlie suspected he hadn’t yet found a new artist to display in her place.

The door to the street opened and Rodrigo, the hot Latino cop, stepped in. He was dressed in a tight white tank top and blue jeans faded in all the right places. He looked spectacular, and the bright white flash of teeth as he grinned at Billy let Charlie know the man had recently gone in for a laser whitening treatment.

“Uh oh,” Billy said as he stretched out along his futon in a seductive pose. “Am I in trouble, officer?”

Rodrigo crossed the room in a few long strides, mounted the ladder, and then Billy himself.

“I’m here in an unofficial capacity,” Rodrigo said, his voice deep and his gaze never leaving Billy’s face. “As your final sexual visitor of the week.”

Billy smiled wide, then asked, “Do you know the password?”

Rodrigo leaned down until his lips were barely touching Billy’s, and then whispered just loud enough for Charlie to hear, “Wichita.”

Billy pulled Rodrigo down for a long, tongue heavy kiss, and when they finally came up for air, Charlie heard him say, “You could have said any word and I would have told you it was the right one.”

Rodrigo laughed before peeling off his tank top and then standing up beside Billy’s futon to toe off his shoes and shuck his jeans. He was nude in moments, his muscles pumped to perfection and his cock already hard.

“Dios mio,” Billy said and reached out to grab Rodrigo’s cock and tug him toward the futon. “Christmas is coming early this year!”

Charlie sighed as he and the dozens of art studio patrons watched Billy and Rodrigo roll back and forth across the futon. Rodrigo pulled the box of condoms Billy had brought with him from the side of the futon and slipped one on before turning Billy onto his belly and pulling his hips up so his ass stuck in the air. Billy met Charlie’s gaze and smiled at him as Rodrigo pumped into him slow and steady.

Rodrigo turned out to be quite the adventurous partner and moved Billy into a dozen different positions, including a complicated one that involved Rodrigo perched on the ladder and Billy holding onto him as he hung in the air above the mats. Finally, after 45 sweaty minutes, Rodrigo thrust hard into Billy and turned his face up to the ceiling as he unloaded into the condom deep inside Billy. A moment later, Rodrigo had caught his breath and, apparently, his erection once again as his hips started to move slowly, pumping into Billy at a steadily increasing rate.

“Sheesh,” Charlie muttered to himself. “Get a room.”

He ignored the fuckfest going on across the room as best he could by reading the same magazine he’d been perusing the last two days. When he grew bored with that, he looked at people in the crowd and tried to guess their first names.

And that was when he saw Rock.

Charlie sat up straight on his futon and smiled at the man who seemed to have materialized in the middle of a group of senior citizens that all stood in slack-jawed amazement as they watched Billy and Rodrigo go at each other. Rock stepped out of the group of seniors and lifted a portable speaker system over his head. Charlie saw that Rock’s iPod sat in the charging deck and, as he frowned, he heard the first notes of a song.

Chills skittered through him as he recognized the music. This was one of his favorite songs, light, romantic, and lovely, and Rock must have been paying closer attention over the months they’d known each other than Charlie had ever imagined to figure it out. Rock watched, listened, and cared. More than cared, it might appear from this …Say Anything tribute. It was an older song by k.d. lang, included on her album “Invincible Summer” from the year 2000, and Charlie laughed as it echoed around the art studio.

Then the mind spinning realization what this meant about Rock’s feelings for him fell on him like an avalanche. His chest started to burn and Charlie realized he had stopped breathing. He pulled in a deep breath as he listened to the words of the song and tried not to cry. [Hank note: See k.d. perform this live on YouTube by clicking here. Advance to 1:10 for her performance.]

Extraordinary Thing

Words and music by k.d. Lang and Abe Laboriel, Jr.

My ordinary days

Are spent inside the maze

Of never changing ways

Such ordinary days

My ordinary spin

Showed itself again

It never seems to end

Then you came waltzing in

Waltzing in

I’m falling…

I’m falling in

I never knew

The likes of you

Extraordinary thing

I do believe

You are indeed, an extraordinary thing

My ordinary game

Predictable and plain

Has never been the same

Since you came waltzing in

Waltzing in

I’m falling

I’m falling in…

 When the song ended, Rock crossed the room and climbed the ladder. He set aside the speaker system and a small bag to kneel in front of Charlie. Rock took Charlie’s hands in his and simply looked at him for a long, silent moment. Charlie felt the entire room looking at them and holding their breath as they waited to see what Rock’s first words would be.

Finally, Rock smiled and leaned a little closer to say, “Wichita.”

Charlie’s heart galloped and tears filled his eyes. “It’s you?”

“It’s me. I’m your final visitor.”

“But … how?”

“I talked to Sven the last time I was here. He thought it might make his point about love if your stay ended with me.” Rock kissed him, lips soft, the brush of his tongue sending a shiver through him. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

Charlie was at a loss for words, but managed to say, “Um, no. Not disappointed at all. Not at all. I’m just … wow. Surprised.” He felt himself blushing and looked down, flustered and excited and nervous and needy. After a steadying breath, Charlie looked up into the calm depths of Rock’s brown eyes and asked, “How did you know that was one of my favorite songs?”

“I pay attention,” Rock replied and leaned in for another kiss.

The kiss started soft and gentle but quickly deepened. Rock’s tongue slipped between Charlie’s lips to caress his own. Rock reached down to take hold of Charlie’s erection and, as Rock stroked him, Charlie moaned and slid his hands inside Rock’s shirt, flicking his thumbs across his hard nipples.

“I’ve missed you, Farm Boy,” Rock said after breaking their kiss. “A lot.”

“I’ve really missed you, too,” Charlie assured him. “I can’t believe you set this up.”

“I wanted you to have a really nice ending to your crazy week.” Rock kissed him quickly. “And why am I not surprised you got tangled up in another mystery?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Charlie said. “It just kind of happened while Billy and I were here.”

“Uh huh, right.” Rock shrugged out of his shirt and stood up, unzipping his shorts and letting them drop to the platform. He was nude underneath, his cock a strong, hard length of intent, and he stepped out of his flip flops then stretched out on top of Charlie.

Their kiss was deep and intense. All the connectivity Charlie had missed that week was here in Rock’s kiss. This man would forever be a part of his life, no matter if they stayed together. Charlie knew that Rock was more than a good friend, more than a boyfriend or a fuck buddy. Charlie had to face facts; he was in love with Rock Harding.

Rock pulled back and smiled down at him. “Ready to give them all a good show?”

Charlie smiled back. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Rock turned so his hips straddled Charlie’s head and, as Rock sucked Charlie’s cock, Charlie opened wide to take in Rock. He wrapped fingers around the base of Rock’s dick and then took hold of the man’s balls to pull them taut. Rock groaned around Charlie’s prick and the vibrations along the shaft felt good.

As he sucked Rock, Charlie stretched and fondled the man’s balls, then massaged the big muscles of his thighs and reached overhead to squeeze his calves. He loved Rock’s body, the firm muscles, broad shoulders, and hairy chest that Rock refused to shave or wax for any director.

Letting Rock’s dick slip from between his lips, Charlie scooted back a bit and put his hands on Rock’s hips, pulling them down until the man’s ass was right above his face. Charlie spread apart the hairy cheeks above him and ran his tongue around the furrowed muscles of his hole. As he rimmed Rock, Charlie felt his legs pulled up and back to expose his own asshole. A moment later, Rock’s whiskered jaw scratched over Charlie’s anus just before his tongue ran slowly up the crack of his ass and dipped into the center of his hole.

Charlie felt the damp heat of Rock’s big palms on his ass cheeks, the soft weight of his balls resting in the hollow of his throat, and the gentle tap of Rock’s dick against his chest. He thought about waking up next to Rock, feeling the weight of Rock’s arm around him, the warm, strong line of him pressed against his back, and he didn’t think he’d ever want to wake up alone again.

Then Rock got up and stood beside the futon to look down at him. His expression was intense as he fixed his brown eyes on Charlie before crouching down to grab a condom from the box on the platform and uncap the lube. Charlie smiled up at him and, when Rock was sheathed, slicked, and ready, lifted his legs. First, Rock slipped his index finger inside him, slicking him up. Then Rock positioned himself between Charlie’s legs, took hold of his ankles, and slowly, steadily, pushed into him.

The crowd standing around them took a collective breath and sighed.

When Rock lay fully inside him, he leaned down to kiss Charlie very gently on the mouth.

“I love you, Charlie Heggensford.”

Charlie’s heart rate doubled, tripled, threatened to beat faster than it did when he drank a double espresso. He smiled up at Rock and said, “I love you, too, Rock Harding.” Then he laughed and said quietly, “Or should I say, I love you, too, Darrell Cheever,” using Rock’s birth name the man had told him during their cruise to Acapulco.

Rock laughed and kissed him again. “You brat.”


Another kiss. “Ready?”


Rock straightened up, pulled back his hips, then pushed in again. Charlie closed his eyes, focused on the feeling of Rock stretching him open, filling him, completing him. Rock’s rhythm quickened, and Charlie grunted and moaned with each thrust. He heard Rock draw in a quick breath and knew he was close. Rock was big enough to touch all the important places with every stroke, and, before he knew it, Charlie himself was at the edge.

“I’m close,” he said with a gasp.

“Me too,” Rock replied. “Shoot it for me, baby.”

Charlie stroked himself to climax, shooting a heavy load up to his chest. Rock reached down to scoop up some of the cum, lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.

The crowd standing around watching sighed as one.

Rock’s grip tightened around Charlie’s ankles, he tipped back his head, closed his eyes, and grunted as he pushed in deep one final time. Charlie felt the man’s hips jerk as he pumped his load into the condom. Then, sweaty and glowing, Rock leaned down to kiss Charlie on the mouth and slipped out of him.

“That was amazing,” Rock said. “Really, truly amazing.”

“I know.” Charlie put a hand against the side of Rock’s face and looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For all of this. Convincing Sven to let you be my final visitor of the week, the song, and telling me you love me.”

Rock smiled. “I suggested it, but he paid me to do it. Figured he’d get a good crowd out of it.” Rock nodded to the people standing around talking and glancing up at them now and then.

“He paid you? How much?” Charlie asked.

“Enough to be able to take you out to a nice dinner after this,” Rock said. “Or, pay your cable bill for you.”

Charlie shook his head. “No. Keep it. Do something for yourself. I only want one thing.”

Rock kissed him and pulled him tight against his side. “Name it.”

“I want us to be exclusive.”

Rock raised his eyebrows. “You do know I work in gay porn, right? And you’re a fluffer?”

Charlie waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s work. I mean outside of work. I don’t want to see or be with anyone else. What about you?”

Rock kissed him on the forehead. “I haven’t been with anyone off the set since you and I met.”

Charlie blinked in surprise. “What? What about Cedric? You two were lovers when we met.”

“Not at that time. We lived together, but we weren’t fucking. That had dried up long before you and I met.” Rock kissed him on the forehead, then the tip of the nose, then the lips. “It’s always been you, Farm Boy. Never anyone else.”

Charlie snuggled into Rock’s armpit, breathed in the citrusy smell of Rock that was now so familiar, and put his arm across Rock’s chest. “You know, this week is ending up pretty damn good for having such a fucked up start to it.”

“Psst,” Billy called from his platform. “Psst, hey Charlie!”

Charlie looked up. “What?”

“I need a condom.”

Charlie frowned. “You had a whole box of them.”

Billy smiled and shrugged. “Rodrigo’s a sex machine, what can I say? Come on, toss me a condom.”

Charlie sighed and sat up. He grabbed the whole box and was about to toss it across the room when Rock put a hand on his arm. “Save a couple of those.”

Charlie smiled down at him. “Yeah?”

Rock smiled back. “Oh yeah.”

With a grin, Charlie tore off two condoms and dropped them on the futon mattress, then tossed the box to Billy. It spun in the air, bounced off Billy’s forehead, and landed on the floor.

“Dammit Charlie,” Billy muttered. There was hesitation as he stared forlornly down at the box, then, with a sigh, he got up and started down the ladder.

“Sorry!” Charlie curled up beside Rock once again and ran his fingers through his chest hair. “So, about these two condoms you asked me to hold onto…”

 ~~ * ~~

I hope you enjoyed this latest adventure with Charlie, Rock, and Billy. I’m sure Charlie and the gang will be back sometime in the near future, he’s still got a lot of trouble to get into. Be sure to come back next week for the start of an all new story that I hope will give you all kinds of shivers. And don’t forget our Road Trip stories begin the end of July and run all through August. Until then, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads. Ready? Here we go!

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor


A Hot Piece of … Art, Chapter 10

Good Monday morning, Story Orgiasts! Halfway through June already … my, how time flies when you’re writing/reading gay erotic romance.

A few announcements before we get on with the story. Lee Brazil has a new release available through Silver Publishing. Click here to check out Less Than All, a lovely regency romance that’ll make you want to dig through your closet to find that puffy-sleeved shirt from the late 80s, early 90s. You know you still have it!

Thanks, as always, to Jade Baiser for finding us the lovely pic to go with our weekly prompt. Sigh…

Have you liked our various author pages so you can stay up to date with all the Story Orgy happenings? Follow the links and “like” the pages to be “in the know” with all of us.

The Story Orgy Group Page

Havan Fellows’s Author Page

Lee Brazil’s Author Page

Lee Brazil’s Truth or Dare Series Page

Em Woods’s Author Page

Hank Edwards’s Author Page

Hank Edwards’s Venom Valley Series Page

Okay, that’s a lot of clicking, you’ve earned a bit of a reward. Are you ready for today’s full length chapter? Our prompt this week: He couldn’t explain.

Well, there’d better be at least a little explanation going on if we’re going to learn the identity of the sneaky art thief! Ready? Let’s go!

A Hot Piece of … Art

Chapter Ten

Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

It was the final night of their time at the studio, and Charlie couldn’t sleep. All the other nights the boredom of sitting on the platform while people stood and stared at him had left him completely, overwhelmingly exhausted, but tonight he lay on his back staring at the ceiling. The quiet breath of the air conditioning was the only sound in the studio, but even that low white noise failed to ease him to sleep.

The previous night, Rodrigo had stayed with them in the studio, claiming to be undercover. From the hot and heavy sounds Charlie had heard coming from Billy’s platform all night, however, the man needed to work on his ability to remain inconspicuous. Some of the sounds had made even Charlie blush, and he considered himself pretty experienced after several years working and living in the L.A. gay porn scene.

Nothing had happened last night. Well, nothing related to the art thefts. On Billy’s platform, a lot had happened. Over and over again. All night. Tonight, though, it was just Billy and Charlie once again. Rodrigo was on patrol, but he had promised to stop by early in the morning when his shift ended. Hawkington, the studio owner, had lowered the lights to half power before he had left for the night. Charlie had heard the thin, sparse man sniffling as he pushed out the door into the warm California night, crying, most likely, at the thought of being forced to close down because of the mysterious thefts of Rafael Fothergill’s paintings.

Once the owner had left, Charlie had clambered down his ladder and hurried to Billy’s platform where they had talked in hushed tones about their plan. Something had to be done to stop the slippery thief. During the day, Billy and Charlie had worked out a plan via text message. All they needed was a little bit of time, some spare change, and an empty art studio.

Luckily, the thrill of watching two nude young men spending their nights sleeping on raised platforms had worn thin halfway through the week. Visitors no longer came around early in the mornings, and this gave them time to set their trap.

“Be careful,” Billy hissed at Charlie as they tip-toed through the open studio space. “You’ll ruin it.”

“What?” Charlie frowned at him. “How on earth could I ruin this setup?”

Billy rolled his eyes and turned away. “I don’t have time to explain it to your simple Idaho mind.”

Charlie snorted a laugh and went back to work. Simple Idaho mind indeed. He was the one who had come up with the plan!

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Billy asked, standing with his arms crossed and looking around the room. “It seems a little… plain.”

He couldn’t explain it, but Charlie had always believed the simplest traps caught the biggest prize. “Look,” Charlie said, placing the final touches on his set up before turning to face Billy. “It’s the final night we’re here. The thief has struck twice in the last week. He even tried to get some ransom money out of them. I think he’s going to come back tonight to clean the place out.”

Billy shrugged. “If you say so. But, if it were me, I’d go for someone a little more impressionist, like Richard Bassett, or the desert landscapes of Carl Eytel.” Billy noticed Charlie’s look of surprise. “What? Just because I’m a fluffer in gay porn doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate good art.”

“Sorry,” Charlie said after snapping his mouth closed. “You just caught me by surprise, that’s all. I mean, the closest thing to art I’ve seen you look at is comic books.”

“Which are considered an art form, Farm Boy.” Billy shook his head, then gestured toward the platforms. “Shall we retire to our chambers and await the thief in the night?”

“Absolutely,” Charlie said. “Watch where you step.”

“You got that right,” Billy mumbled as they carefully made their way to their respective platforms and climbed the ladders.

Charlie stretched out on his back across the futon, so much more comfortable than the mattress in his apartment, and wondered idly if Sven would consider letting him take the mattress when the show finished. Then, without meaning to, he easily slipped into sleep.

A loud crunch woke Charlie and he blinked at the ceiling. It wasn’t the ceiling of his apartment, that had a long crack running across it. What ceiling was this again?

Another crunch, followed by a muffled curse, brought Charlie up to a sitting position. He squinted across the dimly lit room, finally placed where he was, and caught his breath at the sight of a figure dressed in black and wearing a ski mask. The figure held a painting and had frozen in place, head turned to stare at him, one foot raised in mid-step. They stared at each other for a breathless moment, the thief holding so still Charlie wondered if he might be a sculpture he had never noticed before.

“Hey!” Billy shouted from his platform across the room. “Stop thief!”

Billy’s shout shattered the moment of stillness. The thief turned toward the doors, holding the painting in front of him. Each step he took set off loud crunching sounds as his feet came down on the cheese curls Charlie and Billy had spread around the studio. The very simple burglar alarm Charlie had conjured up had paid off and alerted them to the intruder. Now they just had to catch their prey.

“He’s getting away!” Charlie said and pushed to his feet.

“Not if I can help it,” Billy replied. He grabbed the ladder, spun around to hook the tops of his feet around the sides, and slid down to the mat. It would have been a slick move … if he had been dressed. Because he was nude, however, Billy’s dick smacked against each rung on the way down, leaving him curled up on the mat and moaning with his hands cupped over his crotch.

Charlie was so distracted by Billy’s self-inflicted cock torture he stepped off the side of the platform. He had just enough time to gasp before he did a belly smacker on the surface of the mat. His breath left him in a great whoosh as the impact rattled through him. He rolled onto his back, sucked in a lungful of air, and forced himself to move. Ignoring the pain in his groin from landing on his cock and balls, Charlie staggered to his feet and looked toward the doors.

Everything had happened so fast, he discovered the thief was still inside the studio, panic obviously clouding his thoughts as he tried to open the door while still gripping the painting. Before the man could adjust his grip and open the door, Charlie headed for him, crying out with each step as cheese curls burst beneath his bare feet and jabbed his tender skin. So much for the pedicure Rock had convinced him to have done.

Charlie’s moans of pain alerted the thief to his approach, and the man looked over his shoulder, eyes wide inside the black ski mask. When he saw how close Charlie was, the thief took off running at an angle across the studio floor, holding the painting over his head as cheese curls exploded into orange dust beneath his shoes. As the thief ran past, Charlie tried to come to a stop and grab him, but the cheese dust covering the bottom of his feet gave him no traction and he skidded into the studio door, pressing his nude body against the glass.

An elderly couple was walking past at that moment, and the woman looked him up and down, the top plate of her dentures slipping at the width of her smile. Her husband, however, was not amused. He frowned at Charlie and wagged a finger at him through the glass before tugging his wife off along the sidewalk. Charlie briefly wondered what an elderly couple was doing out walking at that time of night, then remembered the thief and turned to shout, “Billy! He’s headed your way!”

Billy had managed to get to his feet and stood with his hands on his knees, mouth hanging open in an effort to catch his breath. He lifted a hand in acknowledgement, then did the only possible thing he could do to stop the thief without injuring himself any further: he pushed his ladder over so it fell in front of the man. The thief’s feet got tangled within the rungs and he fell flat on the floor. He lost his grip on the painting and it slid down the short back hallway to bump against the rear exit.

Charlie high-stepped through the cheese curl mine field until he reached Billy’s side.

“You okay?” Charlie asked.

Billy looked up, grim faced and pale, and nodded. “I’m okay.”

A rustling of fabric and the rattle of the ladder against the hardwood floor brought their attention to where the thief lay on his stomach, struggling to pull his feet out of the rungs. Charlie saw the man was about to get free and leaped into action. He sat on the thief’s back, pinning him to the floor as the man let out a great huff of air.

“Careful, Charlie,” Billy said. “He may have a knife or something.”

“If he stabs me, I’ll pee on him,” Charlie said, and smacked the thief on the back of the head. “Hear that, you jackass? Give me any trouble at all and I’ll pee on you. And I really have to go, too.”

The front door opened and two policemen ran inside, cursing as they stepped on cheese curls. It was Rodrigo and his partner, Myers, and they made their way to Billy’s platform.

“Everyone okay?” Rodrigo asked.

“I fell off the platform and stepped on a lot of cheese curls in my bare feet, but I think…” Charlie stopped talking as he noticed Rodrigo staring at Billy. “Oh, you meant him, I guess.” Charlie sighed, then bounced atop the thief when he started to struggle, earning a grunt from the man. “Hold still, dammit.”

“All right,” Rodrigo’s partner, Myers, said in a slow, ‘why do I always get these kinds of calls?’ tone of voice. “What’s the story in here? We got a call from an elderly gentleman who told us he and his wife were flashed by someone from inside this art studio.”

Charlie raised his hand. “That was me. But I have permission to be nude because I’m part of the exhibit.”

Myers closed his eyes a moment. “Ah, yes, the exhibit. The one I’ve tried so hard to forget about this past week.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said quietly. “That one. I guess. We are the art in the exhibit.”

“Of course you are,” Myers grumbled. “Each and every one of us is a distinct work of art.”

“We’ve been living here in the nude,” Billy said, and smiled at Rodrigo. “All day, all night, all week, all nude.”

“Okay then,” Myers said with an elaborate eye roll. “You’re the exhibit I tried so hard to forget about and you are allowed to be in the nude and accidentally flash people walking past. Fine. Now, care to tell me why you’re sitting on a guy dressed all in black and wearing a ski mask?”

“This is the art thief who’s been stealing paintings all this week!” Charlie exclaimed. “We caught him!”

“You did this yourself?” Rodrigo said to Billy.

Billy shrugged. “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, not all by himself,” Charlie grumbled as he got off the thief’s back and stepped aside. “I did chase him your way.”

Rodrigo and Myers lifted the masked thief to his feet. The man struggled, but the cops held him tight and, finally, the thief slumped in surrender.

“Let’s see who this mysterious art thief is,” Myers said and pulled off the mask.

Charlie and Billy both gasped. They looked at each other, looked back at the thief’s face, then looked at each other again.

“Oh my God!” Billy said.

“I can’t believe it!” Charlie said.

“Who is this?” Rodrigo asked.

“It’s Rafael Fothergill!” Charlie exclaimed. “She’s been stealing her own paintings.”

“But why?” Billy asked. “She’s not that good of an artist.”

“Billy,” Charlie said from the side of his mouth. “She’s standing right there.”

“I can have an opinion, can’t I?” Billy said.

“You idiots,” Rafael said with a sneer. “Don’t you understand anything?”

“I understand long division,” Billy replied. “Does that count?”

Everyone looked at him and he shrugged. “Well, she asked.”

“Anyway…” Myers said. “Back to the thief.”

Rafael sighed. “My paintings aren’t selling. I’m broke and I have three mortgages on my house in the Valley.”

“The Valley?” Billy asked, and all four men winced in sympathy.

“This show was my last chance to gain recognition,” Rafael said and hung her head so her blonde dreadlocks hid her face. “But nothing was selling. The visitors all wanted to see Sven’s new show, they didn’t care for mine. I was desperate and decided if I couldn’t sell the paintings to make money, I’d steal them and get the insurance money.” She looked up, anger burning in her eyes as she glared past Charlie and Billy at the studio owner’s office door. “And besides, I hoped to drive that fucking son of a bitch Hawkington out of business. The bastard tried to pretend he was doing me a favor by putting my paintings in the show, but he was ripping me off on the split.”

“Well, now that she’s conveniently told us her motive,” Myers said with another eye roll, “how about we take her down to the precinct and book her. Sound good?”

“But Hawkington’s the crook!” Rafael shrieked as the cops led her to the door. “He should be arrested, not me. I was just making a statement!”

“Wow, what a nutjob,” Billy said once the door had closed behind them. He looked at Charlie and pouted. “Do you think Rodrigo will come back when he’s done booking her?”

Charlie patted his shoulder and smiled. “Pretty certain you’ll see him again. Come on, let’s try to get some sleep. Our last sex partners are due sometime tomorrow and then we’re free.”

Billy clapped his hands and smiled. “It feels like Christmas! I hope mine’s big enough to climb on.”

They returned to their platforms and, after tossing and turning for a bit, Charlie finally drifted off to sleep.

~~ * ~~

Did you guess who the thief was? Hope you enjoyed that big reveal. Be sure to come back next week for the final chapter of this latest Charlie adventure. It’s definitely NSFW and might strum those romance heart strings. Until then, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads. Ready? Here we go!

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor



A Hot Piece of … Art, Chapter 9

Good Monday morning, Story Orgy friends. I hope June has been treating you well so far.

Before we get to more antics from Charlie and Billy, we have a few announcements. First of all, my book Shacked Up, the sequel to Holed Up, was released this past week at Loose Id. Click on over to download any variety of e-book you need and let Mark and Pearce take you on another sexy, suspenseful mystery ride.

Lee Brazil‘s latest, a regency romance titled Less Than All, will be available from Silver Publishing this Saturday, June 16th. Follow this link to pre-order your copy today.

Are you going on a Road Trip this summer? The Story Orgy group is, but we need to push our trip back a few weeks (EDJ vacations, kids in day camps, that kind of thing). Look for our first posts in the Road Trip series on Monday, July 30th. We’ll post a new chapter to our stories each Monday in August, with the final chapters up and ready on Monday, August 27th. Are you ready to read what scorching hot stories your Story Orgy members have come up with based on reader suggested prompts? Just a few more weeks!

Our hunky photo of the week was discovered, as usual, by the red-headed French beauty Jade Baiser. Merci, Jade!

Now, ready to see what Charlie’s got going on? This week I wrote a Hook Up, and the prompt we were all provided was: He shredded it.

A Hot Piece of … Art

Chapter Nine

Hank Edwards

(c) 2012

With two days left in his contract, Charlie awoke to another long, drawn out scream. He sat up on his futon, bleary-eyed and confused.

Rafael Fothergill was on her knees in the middle of the studio, strips of colorful paper falling between her fingers.

“He shredded it!” she shrieked.

Charlie rubbed his eyes before calling out. “What?”

She fixed him with a look of such ferocity Charlie almost tumbled off his platform. Through gritted teeth she said,

“My painting,” then lowered her head to the pile of shredded canvas and cried.

“Oh, for fucking rust bucket sakes,” Billy groaned from his platform. “Can’t that bitch just once walk in the door and say ‘Good morning’?”

“I couldn’t afford the ransom,” she wailed, “and he shredded my work.”

Sometime later, Charlie and Billy once again stood before Rodrigo the hot Latino police officer. No, they saw nothing, heard nothing, and knew nothing. Sven’s cameras had once again captured just the bottom half of the thief as he left the pieces of the painting in a pile on the floor.

“Bankrupt,” Hawkington moaned, “I’ll have to cancel my subscription to Netflix.” He retreated to his office and slammed the door.

“So,” Rodrigo said with a grin. “I’m staying here tonight undercover. Where do I sleep?”

Billy stepped up and took Rodrigo’s hand. “Well, seeing as how you already had a turn on Charlie’s platform, what say you give my place a try?”

Rodrigo’s grin widened. “I like the sound of that.”

 ~~ * ~~

Wow, that thief is serious! Who shreds a painting?! Be sure to come back next week and see what more trouble Charlie and Billy can get into. Until then, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads. Ready? Here we go!

J.R. Boyd,    Lee Brazil,     Havan Fellows,     Em Woods,     Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor