Uninterested in the mating ritual of his people, Amu dreams of causing male screams of passion, and he confides in Owa, the young tribal storyteller, his desire of being in another man’s arms and kissing his lips. Discovering one night that Owa is a follower of the white fluid, Amu’s passion is ignited, but both men know they must hide it from their fellow tribesmen, lest they suffer the same fate as Kwamie and Kitru, fellow swallowers of the snake.
Before dawn broke from somewhere in the Land of the Coming Sun, Amu and Owa awoke. Owa knew he had to leave first to return to the village. They dare not return together, lest someone figure out what had transpired between them. Violating the taboo of two men together the way they had been would have meant exile to a deserted isle several hours away where they would most likely perish.
Amu returned to the village a short while later, immediately grabbed his fishing net and spear, and like most of the men, he was whistling and humming and extremely happy for the first time in his life, though obviously for a different reason than the other men. He listened to the men brag of their first night with a new partner, how they did it, and how they made their women scream in ecstasy, and how many times they did it.
On the third night of mating, Owa mentioned that he was especially hungry for some fruit and was going to the forest to find some. He looked at Amu as if extending an invitation to join him before taking the trail out of the village that led to the trees where they had enjoyed their first encounter. Amu was in turmoil. He so wanted to follow but knew they were violating a taboo. He watched as Owa departed. He bedded down in the long hut and tried vainly to sleep, but the thoughts and feelings of their first encounter kept his mind active.
He rose and silently took the path into the forest, tripping now and then in the near total darkness over roots and vines that clogged the path.
“I was hoping you would come,” Owa whispered as he heard the sounds of dried branches cracking under Amu’s feet and saw by starlight the figure finally draw near.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Owa extended his hand to Amu, and Amu let Owa draw him close. Lips found lips, and all the senses except sight came into play. The heat from bodies pressing close together, the taste of each other’s mouth, the smell of each other’s skin – all were heightened by the darkness.
“Teach me how to please you the way you pleased me,” Amu said.
“Are you sure?”
“Then do what I do.”
Owa began his seduction of Amu, and Amu reciprocated, eager to please his new lover.
“The Legend of Kwamie and Kitru,” erotic romance by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Apple, Amazon, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, and Coffeetime Romance. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
The young man labeled a pariah must find his way through a labyrinth of his own making as he tries to discover what truly makes him happy. This is no easy task at Williamsburg State University, where gay men are plentiful and the endless buffet has plenty to offer. Cautioned against trying to bed every man who will have him, Terry does not heed the warning nor does he realize that his actions may have undesirable consequences.
The most imminent thing on the horizon was New York City, and all the men he could ever want. He could pick and choose, if the description of the downstairs wooden frame with naked men waiting was in any way, shape, or form accurate.
Terry was in awe as he looked in the shop windows as they navigated the sidewalk of Christopher Street, the gayest street in the entire city. There were restaurants, art galleries, antique stores, an off-Broadway theatre, fashion stores, jewelry stores, and leather shops. It was nothing like sedate East Port.
Randy smiled at Terry, “Welcome to NYU, or as some people call it, NY Yoo-hoo, because of the gay guys hollering out the dorm windows at cute guys on the street.” He led Terry up the steps to the third floor, unlocked the door, and was rather shocked to see Robby with a blond he had obviously picked up.
“Sorry, roomie, didn’t know you were here. We’ll be out in a minute.” They went for a bite to eat at one of the restaurants on Christopher Street. “That was awkward,” Henry said. “He is good, though, if you know what I mean.”
“You and your roommate have…?”
“Well, it seems we have another thing in common. My roomie and I have, too.” Terry went on to relate his unions with Darryl, Randy, Phil, and Muddy.
“You certainly have been one randy guy down there at Williamsburg State. Want to do something different I haven’t even tried here in the city?”
“Sure, what is it?”
Butchie’s certainly was not an eye-catching place from the outside. Two small windows on the street were covered on the inside with wooden blinds, and a large metal grate covered it on the outside when the place was locked. Terry looked around and noted that nearly everything about the place was light brown in color and relatively new. There was nothing that indicated the age of the building, unlike every other shop Terry had observed in the Village. It completely lacked character, not that he was here to appreciate character. He admired the men in the shop. There were several he would love to have sex with, and he commented on them to his companions. He watched them disappear behind a curtain and they didn’t return.
“That’s where the steps to paradise are, I presume.”
“Yes. The maze is to the left.”
Terry followed them at a respectable distance, but he lost them in the darkness of the maze. Instead, he found himself in a room lit only by a single red light bulb, and he was witness to all the depravity that two men could do together. In a far corner he noticed an orgy of seven guys combining in every way possible. Some of them noticed him as well and motioned him to join them. He was theirs in an instant as seven guys were all over him. All he could do, being suddenly the centerpiece of their orgy, was enjoy the ride. This was sex as he had never known it could be.
Then he felt what he was not prepared for.
“Whoa!” he shouted. “Wrap it up or get out.”
Suddenly all seven males deserted him. He didn’t play by the rules of the basement. Left out of the conglomeration of mingled bodies, he worked his way back towards the maze.
“Hey, wait!” One of the seven came running after him. “You must be new here. Come with me into the maze.”
He grabbed Terry’s hand and led him into the absolute darkness of the maze. They rounded four corners and he pulled Terry to him. He was a man on a mission and not to be denied. Terry couldn’t refrain from giving in completely to the man. Afterward, he disappeared before Terry could say a word.
Totally disoriented in the darkness, Terry began to feel his way around the maze, accidentally touching couples along the way. Only when he heard moaning did he know there were two guys engaged.
“The Pariah,” erotic romance by Duncan More, is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, All Romance ebooks, Google, Kobo ebooks, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
A Winchester was a rifle that helped many pioneers as they settled the western provinces. They were known for their shooting ability when hunting for meat to eat, and nearly every man ‘packed a rod.’ That rather accurately describes our dancers as well as our customers.
Gregor hired me for a one night performance, a special birthday gift for his Steve, and with a little logistical planning, I pulled it off to perfection. I’m not like the pretty muscle gods they’ve got dancing here. Most of the guys I hang with don’t even realise I like to swing with a guy any morning, afternoon, or night. The guys I hang with really enjoy (no, make that love) their motorcycles. That’s where the thrill and power lies – sitting on top of a two wheeled machine surging with power – the feeling of leather and chrome and speed at our total command, riding where we want, doing what we want, as often as we want.
At 11:00 that night in full riding gear, I got my ’51 Indian (for you bike enthusiasts who need to know that kind of thing), revved up the engine and rode right on stage, gently shoved the dancer to the floor, rode down the ramp and braked in front of the VIP table. I looked Steve right in the eye and bellowed, “You the guy who runs this pansy club?” Instantly, uniformed security people were surrounding me. I got behind Steve, grabbed his neck in an arm lock, and hollered at the security guards. “Back off but stay in sight, unless you want a corpse on your hands, and that goes for the rest of you, too. Hey Bartender – take the phone off the hook and set it on the bar top where I can see it, and don’t let me even see a cell phone.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the place. I slowly took my trusty blade from my boot and began to pick my teeth with it. I loved being the centre of attention. “What!” I shouted menacingly, “You pretty boys like seeing guys take their clothes off? That really pops your cookies? Well, fine with me. You, come here,” I said glaringly at one of the security cops. One came forward. “Don’t none of you try nuthin’ right now, you hear?”
“Stand there.” He obeyed. “Come closer. These pretty boys here wanna see a man – a real man.” I took my knife and deftly sliced the threads on his shirt buttons so it fell open. “Now, get out there and tease us. Give us a show like you’re used to seeing here.” He slowly obeyed, having no other option. “Peel that t-shirt off – show us what a real man’s chest looks like.” He complied. “Glad you got a nice one for the boys here. Wouldn’t want them to be disappointed.” He wiggled and did a rather good strip. “Give us a show, Mr. Officer. That’s it, you can do it. Pretend you’re one of the pretty boys. Sell your body.” He hit some bodybuilder’s stances like he had been posing for years. The other security staff looked on helplessly, wondering and fearing that I had something in mind for them, too.
I skillfully took the knife and sliced open the seam of his trousers from the crotch through to the belt line, and his pants fell to his knees. “Ooh, nice!” I said. “Come on, Officer. Make it hot. Give the boys here what they want.” He again complied. “Okay, boys, give the nice officer a round of applause.” There was some polite applause.
“Well, what do you know? It seems the nice officer really belongs here. You’ve got customers here who want to see something different and really hot, so give them their money’s worth. They paid to get in here tonight.”
I hollered over to the bartender that I wanted a bottle of the best champagne in the house. A very nervous waiter brought it to the table, and it took him several tries to get the bottle popped. He could barely pour it into the glasses. “Don’t you go away, pretty boy,” I told him. I took a sip from my glass and looked over at the officer.
“Very good, Officer. By the way, what’s your name?”
“Well, very good show, Rene. I think everyone should give Officer Rene here a round of applause.” A huge round of applause followed as he scrambled to gather his uniform. “Hey, Rene, been a guard here long?”
“No, Sir,” he responded. “Tonight was my first night.”
“Maybe you can get a promotion to dancer here, Officer Rene. What do you think, Stevie?” I asked, slightly releasing the hold I had on him. “Would you hire him to dance here for all the pretty boys?” I waited for an answer. None was coming.
Looking into his eyes, I said, “You know what I think, Stevie baby? I think you should hire him as a dancer. You know what else I think, Stevie baby? I think you should have one memorable birthday. So,” I continued in a voice still loud enough for all to hear, “Happy birthday! I hope this birthday is always remembered as something special.” In front of everyone, I planted a big long wet kiss on his lips. Then in an even louder voice, I apologised to everyone present. “I am sorry for any emotional terror I may have caused you in the last fifteen or so minutes. To make up for it, the drinks are on me for the next half hour, so get the waiters and the bartenders busy.”
Steve sank back in his chair totally weak. Then I introduced him to Rene, a new dancer at Winchester’s – Montreal I had hired for the night. By the time Steve found out his security guards were in on my part of the night’s festivities, he immediately deduced who had hired me. I hung around to make sure no murder would follow. By the end of the night Steve and I had made peace, once he regained his composure, and I made a few friends that night.
Come in and say ‘Hi’ to me. I really won’t bite, unless you want me to.
“Winchester’s Men,” gay erotica/erotic romance by Duncan More, is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, All Romance ebooks, Google, Kobo ebooks, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
It was a brilliant plan, a group of guys pooling their money to rent a small house. The landlord was a genius to put Greg Forrest in charge, offering him a place to stay in exchange for fixing up the place. What could possibly go wrong? The man is an army veteran who surely wouldn’t tolerate foolishness. But the landlord didn’t know Greg as well as he thought. Keeping a secret side of the house for his own purposes, Greg introduces each of the guys, one by one, and unknown to the others, to a world of pure pleasure, and he has no intention of letting any of them know about his liaisons with the others. Amid the parties and mayhem, fun is had and couples are formed, but a surprise visitor from Greg’s past may mean a change in the house rules.
It was a great plan, a fabulous plan, an utterly incredible plan, a plan no one had ever thought of before, a surefire plan, a plan that couldn’t fail. The guys were going to pool their money and rent a small house on a rundown property on the outskirts of their tiny Montana hamlet called Rainbow. Like all great plans, though, nothing went quite as expected. The plan was for Greg, in return for a more independent roof over his head for the next twelve months, to work on improving the property for the building’s owner. It was a small house, with three rooms and a bath upstairs; a kitchen, a den or dining room, living room and tiny laundry room on the ground floor. A small cellar underneath the kitchen housed the furnace and hot water heater resting on the solid rock only five feet below ground level. The porch railings and floor required painting, the wooden steps needed to be nailed down or replaced, the fence around the yard needed to be straightened and anchored into place, and window frames demanded repair. Inside, the three bedrooms needed ceiling tiles replaced from an earlier roof leak, and a light fixture here and there needed some basic rewiring. Outside, the yard needed hours of work to make it presentable, as overgrown grass was going to seed, and weeds and crab grass were firmly rooted throughout. Working with Greg, the guys completely altered the appearance of the house and it looked quite presentable. They raided their family attics for unneeded furniture, and a trip or two to Goodwill in Greg’s truck for some used furniture finished off what they needed: a place to study, a place to party, a place to get lucky – or so they hoped – and Greg would be there to keep an eye on the place.
They agreed on a set of rules for use of the house regarding parties, guests, and study time. However, the choice of Greg was also a bad move on the guys’ part, because he introduced each of them, one by one, and unknown to the others, to the pure pleasures of worshiping the god Priapus. He seduced each of them and taught them to return the pleasure. And he was a good instructor. Each, unknown to the others, managed to meet and mate with Greg regularly for private sessions.
One of the guys reminded Greg of his days back in Afghanistan with Corporal Robin Deets. There was the body he loved. Those tight abs, the beefy arms and thighs, the brown eyes, the nearly perfect teeth, but Cpl. Deets had one more year to go when Greg’s overseas hitch was over. Greg hoped that someday he and his army pal would get back together. He just wasn’t sure if it was a friendship or a temporary relationship based upon proximity and male necessity, but the man did make hot dusty days and cold nights endurable. A soldier wasn’t going to get lucky with a lady who keeps her face covered with a veil, and it was a death sentence for any local male who wanted to have a little fun, so they did what they could.
“The Other House on Elm Street,” erotic romance by Duncan More, is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
North Carolina painter Evan Phelps and his ex-lover Frank own a small art shop in the beach town of Manteo. When four friends encounter car trouble one day and seek help from Evan, the painter finds an unexpected muse in the much younger Sterling. He is gorgeous and Evan cannot stop thinking about him and painting images of him in various erotic poses. When Sterling comes to him for serious sexual advice, an unlikely relationship begins between the mature Evan and the much younger Sterling, a virgin in anticipation of his first sexual experience. Sterling’s buddy Jordan, in sharp contrast, is very sexually active and led around by one particular part of his anatomy, like a carrot in front of a donkey. When Evan’s career begins to take off, the adventures begin, leading Evan and his young paramour to a place neither has been.
A solo of Sterling in his partially aroused stage literally commanded to be first. He began with the head with its roundish shape and long wavy black hair partially covering his ears and draping haphazardly across his forehead. Green eyes, a cute pug nose and a thin black mustache atop a pleasant smile completed the face. Next came his broad shoulders and a well defined chest as well as the stomach, hard but not overly muscled (probably the result of hard work and not a gym regimen). He stretched the arms out so that the hands were holding onto the banister of the deck. He finished it off with the top three inches of a pair of white jeans. He decided against going further with that part which was etched in his memory. It was midnight when he shut off the bedroom light and crawled into bed. As he lay there in the darkness, a vision of Sterling was conjured in his mind. Evan finally fell into a deep sleep, and there was Sterling again, standing in the kitchen doorway, and as naked as truth should be, he advanced toward Evan and planted a kiss on his lips as his hands roamed Evan’s back. Evan woke suddenly and found that he was totally aroused. None of his subjects had ever dominated his mind and fantasies before.
“So tell me,” Frank said. “Who’s the new love in your life?”
“What do you mean?”
“Eight paintings of the same model. The last time you went on a painting binge like this, all of the paintings were of me and that was back when we had just graduated from college eleven years ago.”
Evan explained that he had only met Sterling for an hour and about the car being stuck in a sand dune.
“Well, this new fixation of yours is producing some of the finest work you’ve done in years. We’re talking about the $200 price range.”
The next Friday after painting like a demon, Evan delivered two more of Sterling, plus several of the foursome and some seascapes and one of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse in the background with Sterling in the foreground waiting to climb it. He even did one of Paul standing in his kitchen doorway when he first revealed Junior in full glory, although he felt that nudes were not his forte.
“Wow” was all Frank could say when he saw Paul. “Is that thing real or did you go about enlarging it?”
“He said it was eleven and a half inches. I didn’t measure it, but I would have.”
“A Gift From Poseidon,” erotic romance novel by Duncan More, is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, All Romance ebooks, Kobo and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
The murder of Quentin’s lover for daring to “come out” devastates Quentin, and he shields himself as best he can from the past, choosing a life of relative solitude. Resigning himself to a life alone, Quentin doesn’t anticipate meeting a young man who shares his passions. Drawn to this man, he realizes how much he misses someone special in his life, and he longs for the days he shared with his former lover. Hesitant to act upon feelings he was certain had died along with his former lover, Quentin is torn between renewed feelings and the fear of being deeply hurt again.
Ely welcomed the man by patting the sand, and the man stretched out, enjoying the warm rays on his skin. He was a handsome man with thick dark hair and Ely estimated him to be a little older than he, twenty-five at the most. Ely didn’t mean to stare, yet he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off this man.
The stranger reached out to shake Ely’s hand and said confidently, “I’m Quentin, Quentin Jones.”
Ely shook his hand and introduced himself as well, still mesmerized by the man’s forwardness. After a period of silence, he found the courage to ask, “What brings you to Galveston, sir?”
“Oh, my goodness, call me Quentin, please.” Quentin continued, “I teach literature at The University of Texas in Houston. I come to Galveston every chance I can, though. I love the beach and the warm waters of the Gulf.”
Ely explained that he was working at the ice cream parlor during the mornings, and came to the beach in the afternoons and evenings. “Stop by,” he boldly invited the man he had just met.
“I’ll do that,” Quentin didn’t hesitate to reply, followed by a wink. Looking Ely directly in the eyes, he asked, “Would you like to see my house. It’s just up the beach.”
Ely didn’t know what to do. This was what he had wanted, yet he had been taught to be wary of strangers. He was suddenly aware that he was staring into Quentin’s eyes which were waiting for an answer.
“I’d love to.”
“Great,” Quentin replied.
Ely followed Quentin up the beach to his house. When they entered, he almost gasped. The house was beautiful, adorned with the most exquisite antiques which Quentin had inherited from his grandparents and parents. Everything seemed to have a place, and everything was in its place.
In a small corner of the library underneath a copy of Moby Dick was a letter addressing Quentin as “The Love of My Life.” It was from two years ago, and from the sketchy timeline Ely could piece together, it appeared that Quentin and another man had an intimate relationship for three years. For Quentin’s sake, he never mentioned that he was his lover, and they always met in secretive locations. As he skimmed the letter, Ely came to the last page which was very disturbing.
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The beautiful naked bodies of the magnificent Seschol were a sight to behold, and setting foot on a new and inhabited planet, the planet of our ancestors, was exhilarating. At times I seemed to have memories I could not possibly have had, and in my heart I knew that I was as much Seschol as human. Knowing that catastrophe had hit their beautiful green planet was heartbreaking, and we could feel their pain. It was visible in their eyes, and we were determined to help them.
Kevin and I were standing in a very comfortable lounge area stark naked in front of three Seschol. One, who I assumed to be Eo’hala, noticed our embarrassment.
“My apologies. We didn’t mean to embarrass you. We will disrobe. I’m impressed with your knowledge of us, but what is Phobos? Is that a place your people have settled on Oolia?”
“No, Phobos is one of Oolia’s small moons.”
The Seschol were crestfallen. “Oolia, as we knew it, had no moons. It would appear that catastrophe did hit our beautiful green planet.”
We could feel their pain, visible in their eyes. Without thinking, I spontaneously gave Eo’hala a hug. He was surprised, but hugged me back. “I’m sorry, Eo’hala. I didn’t mean to take liberties, but you looked like someone in need of a hug.”
“You needn’t apologize, Kyle. Affection is important in our culture, but then, I guess you knew that. Would you like to meet some of our people? I know they’d like to meet you.”
“We would indeed. Where should we go?”
I was thinking about their beautiful naked bodies as we walked. The truth was that neither of us was sleepy. When we got down to our section, which was largely unoccupied, I asked them if they would like to stay on the base or go back to their ship.
“We’d like to stay here, if it isn’t too much trouble. We only need one room.”
“No trouble at all. We have a two room suite, but only use half of it. You are most welcome to stay with us. Here we are. Please come in.”
I showed them in, pointing out the fully equipped bathroom complete with a large Jacuzzi.
“Ahh, a therapy pool. How inviting. Would you like to join us?”
Would we ever! “That sounds cool.” We undressed hurriedly, but still not as fast as they did. When we went into their room, they were already nude and getting into the Jacuzzi. This really was going to be so cool!
They sat so that we had to sit between them. As I sat, Eo’hala pulled me towards him as Torcano and Lu’opa pulled Kevin to them. We kissed deeply, and ran our hands over each other’s bodies. It was wonderful being with these very sexual creatures. I lost track of who was with whom. Finally, we had to call it a night. We went in to shower, and our new friends joined us. But it wasn’t over quite yet. They joined us in bed.
Cuddling between two warm bodies was the perfect end to a perfect day, and I dropped off to sleep almost immediately.
As soon as we entered the medical section and saw the body, I knew. Darhuth was the base designer and a major Seschol scientist. He had been dressed in a lightweight dark blue silk-like fabric jumper with a gold band at the sleeves and collar. I just stood there looking at the magnificent Seschol man. To our eyes, he was absolutely beautiful and in an amazing state of preservation. I leaned over the body, touching my forehead to his as a sign of respect. I felt as if I knew him. “This was a great man, much respected and loved by all Seschol. He was a scientist and the chief designer of this base. The Seschol had to evacuate before they could complete his funeral Sending. We have to do that for him now. We simply must!”
“Will everyone please gather around and join hands? This is the body of Darhuth, one of the greatest men of science in Oolian history, and a great humanitarian. He devoted the latter part of his life in the attempt to unify all Seschol and heal the divide between the Elgorath and Cofands. In this, he failed, but his greatness was undiminished.”
Leaning over, I once again touched my forehead to his. “Darhuth, I never knew you, but in a sense I did. Your kindness, compassion and leadership are missed. You were dearly loved by your people. May you now take your rightful place in the cosmos.”
Later, back in our quarters, Kevin held me close as he kissed me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, honey, but I know you feel a connection to Darhuth, knowing what a sexual creature he was.”
“Phobos Nocturne,” science fiction romance by Kiel Bei, the author of “Stolen Paradise,” is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Google Books, All Romance ebooks, and Kobo. Available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
With his sights set on a bright red sports coupe, Jack pulls into Happy Jack’s Used Car Lot hoping to get a good trade-in for his old clunker, Junior, and encounters a very persuasive salesman who convinces him to buy a van. Unsure of his decision at first, Jack quickly finds that the van is much more than transportation. For him and his friends, the less than impressive looking vehicle becomes their wheels of fortune!
Buying a van was the last thing on Jack’s mind when he pulled into Happy Jack’s Used Car Lot one hot August Saturday afternoon. He had planned and saved all summer to get a little sport coupe that would get him back and forth to campus. Junior, as he called his old clunker, just wouldn’t handle another year of the wear and tear of the daily trek. It barely got him around town as he delivered pizza for Angelo’s Pizza every night. Time had taken its toll on the old vehicle and it was time to move on.
At least twice a week Jack had driven past the lot and yesterday he spied a shiny red Chevy for $3000.00. He had risen early, showered, shaved, and pulled out a pair of good dress slacks and one of his few ironed shirts. “Dress to impress” was one of his mottos and if he were to get a good deal, he knew he had to impress the salesman.
He turned into Happy Jack’s lot and parked Junior on the side of the building. He climbed out of the car, adjusted his shirtsleeves, and headed directly over to the red Chevy. He was examining the body when a very proper-looking salesman arrived.
“Hi, I’m Sam,” he said, shaking Jack’s hand as he handed him a business card with the name Sam Devlin on it. “Can I help you?” he asked, looking Jack directly in the eyes.
“Sure can. I’m Jack. What’s your bottom price on this one?” He absently gazed back at the hazel eyes of the salesman.
“No, no – your bottom price, not your asking price,” Jack replied.
Jack watched him slowly turn and start to walk away. “I really had my heart set on this Chevy. It looks like it would be great for getting me back and forth to classes at State,” Jack said.
“State? You’re going to State? I went to State six years ago.”
Jack liked the enthusiasm he suddenly heard in Sam’s voice. His hopes rose. Maybe there was still hope of a deal on the Chevy.
“Listen,” Sam continued with a little more animation in his voice and eyes, “You really don’t want a sports coupe for that commute. Trust me. You’re taking the interstate back and forth and the cops love to nail guys in sports cars. Think of something a little less flashy. I have the perfect vehicle for you. It’s a cream colored van. The body’s great, the engine runs perfectly, and there’s a lot of room in the back, if you catch my meaning.”
“A van? I don’t think so.”
“Just take a look at it.”
“I guess it won’t hurt to look,” Jack said. He followed Sam into the garage and he couldn’t help noticing how broad the man’s shoulders were and the fact that his muscles bulged under his white shirt. He thought to himself, “Wonder what he’d be like in bed.” He shook his head quickly to banish the sex fantasy and get his mind back on the reality at hand.
“Hey, Joe!” Sam hollered. “The van finished yet?”
Dressed in a mechanic’s blue coveralls, a man on a dolly rolled himself out from under the Bronco he was repairing and Jack’s mouth dropped wide open. This guy was an Adonis, even covered in garage grease. In another quick private fantasy, Jack could see himself dropping to the greasy floor with this god of a man.
“Yeah, I just finished it. It’s as good as new.”
The mechanic rolled himself back under the Bronco, leaving only his legs and pelvis visible. Jack swallowed hard and hoped Sam had noticed nothing.
Jack walked over to the van and was surprised by it. He was impressed by the captain’s chairs and all the options included. “Go ahead, climb in, get the feel of it!” Jack climbed in and perched himself behind the wheel. It was the first time he had ever been in a van and the feeling was strange, but he liked the sensation of being so high up. Sam walked up to the open window. “We could take it for a test drive.” Sam slapped plates on the van and climbed inside.
Jack was silently amazed at the ease with which the van handled. He turned onto the interstate, added a little more gas, and marveled at the smoothness of the ride.
Sam was quick to speak up. “A nice thing about a van is all the extra leg room. A passenger can really stretch out,” and he stretched his legs out longer and wider apart. “Feels good to stretch out. Never feel cramped.” His hand reached over to Jack. “You feeling a bit cramped?”
“Go for it,” Jack smiled warmly. “Hell of a way to make a sale, but I like the approach.”
“There’s a rest area a half mile up the road. Why not pull over? Then I could really show you the advantages of a van, like all the space in the back, since there’s no third seat.”
Jack flipped on the turn signal, shifted to the right-hand lane, and pulled onto the exit ramp.
“Wheels of Fortune,” a new erotic romance novel by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, All Romance ebooks, Kobo ebooks, and the Apple iBookstores. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
When President Alvarez dies unexpectedly, Enry Pruitt is forced into the foreground where he fears his long held secret may be exposed. The new president is gay, and the object of his affection is an officer in the armed forces of which he is commander-in-chief. Navigating his way through the rough seas of a country in crisis, the inexperienced young president must deal not only with his desires, but with a trail of horrendous atrocities from an unknown assailant as well. When an old friend tries to locate him, Enry fears that a lost weekend in Singapore years ago may threaten his career and so much more.
Greg Downs crashed into the Newark City diner and crumbled his large frame into a booth. The world was spinning around him with adrenalin pumping out of proportion. He managed to order a cup of coffee from the waitress who wondered if he was on an acid trip. His breathing was labored and he wasn’t sure if he was in the grip of a panic attack. Newark was used to street people living on the edge of sanity. They were merely ignored, and for this moment in time, Greg was grateful that he was blending in. Waves of nausea held him hostage, and he struggled to maintain some kind of poise in the tiny little world of his booth. The mug of coffee arrived and he couldn’t keep his trembling hands around it long enough to lift it to his lips. Thankfully, the waitress had thought to bring him some ice water, and he put his head down to the glass to sip on the liquid coolness. He was hyperventilating and the diner was growing dimmer and dimmer in his vision. Everything was a blur when he finally passed out in his booth, overcome by excitement and the thrill of the most dangerous escapade of his life. He had just blown up the junior U.S. senator from New Jersey.
“My wife and I met when I was in flight school as a dashing young officer and she was a senior in college. We met in a bar of all places and began dating almost immediately. One of the things I loved about her was that she had a streak of nymphomania running through her. I found her terribly exciting and open to almost anything sexually. A few years into the marriage she confessed that she had no desire to have children, which was contrary to everything we had talked about while we were courting. Then she said she wasn’t satisfied in bed and wanted to experiment with another man in our bed, the three of us. I foolishly agreed to it, and one thing led to another, but I discovered I was fonder of having sex with a man than with my wife.”
Enry sat there enthralled and fascinated, and moved. Michael was opening up his deepest secret and shame, and it drew the president more closely into the mystery of General Michael Shimibura.
“One thing evolved into another, and all I wanted sexually was the pleasure and strength of another man. Valerie’s presence began to turn me off completely. I was away a lot on tours of duty, and after ten years of marriage, we were merely orbiting each other, and I officially moved out. I send her an allowance every month and we agree to live apart until I retire. Mr. President, tell me about President Alvarez.”
The question caught Enry off his usual poise, and Michael could tell that the president’s emotions were rising to the fore. Enry stood up, walked behind the sofa, and put his hands down on the back as he faced Michael to answer the question. Michael watched Enry gather the soul within him to answer a question he had not had the time to deal with in the days since the death of Diego Alvarez.
“Diego, sweet Diego. I can’t imagine a better president. He was genuinely gracious, genuinely kind, and genuinely intelligent. He was a peacemaker. He could bring in members of congress who hated him and they would leave offering to polish his winged-tip shoes. And he was personally gracious towards me.
“Diego was a damned good friend, and I wish he were still president.” He was embarrassed by his emotion but couldn’t contain it. For the first time, he had unearthed his sentiment towards his fallen friend and mentor, and felt exposed by the display of his emotion.
Michael rose from his seat and went to his president. “Mr. President, you’ve been through a terrible ordeal, and you need to get all of this out of you. From the beginning, you have handled this with great purpose, and I was genuinely impressed at your swearing-in ceremony, when you held the head of the chief justice to your chest and comforted him. You are a man of great ability to love.”
Enry could feel Michael’s strong hand massaging his shoulder in comfort.
“Mr. President, Enry, in case you haven’t heard it from anyone lately, you’re a wonderful man and a beautiful human being. The most exciting thing I’ve ever known in life has been the past few weeks with you.”
Enry’s ears melted in the calming voice of Michael Shimibura, and after a shared three bottles of wine, he stepped into the abyss. As he looked into Enry’s eyes, his hands moved to unwrap the presidential belt buckle.
“Enry, don’t say a word. I’ll say it for both of us.”
“Accidental President,” political thriller/romantic suspense by Dominic Lacerva, is available from Apple, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Kobo, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.
“You’re invited to a murder,” the invitation read. Dennis immediately calls 1-800-2 DIE FOR to confirm his acceptance of a weekend in the Poconos, a gift from his friend, Jason. He smiles at his excitement about the affair. Cast in the role of handyman for the weekend, he is certain that he can find something in every cabin in need of a little ‘maintenance.’ The murder mystery weekend is an all gay event that wouldn’t be complete without a few pesky drag queens thrown into the mix of singles and couples. Everything is all fun and games, until the night of the murder when a real murder occurs, making everyone in attendance a suspect.
A limousine was waiting in front of Dennis’ apartment at exactly six o’clock on Friday evening. He climbed into the spacious back as the driver informed him of the options for pleasure available to him – caviar, champagne, television, oysters on the half-shell, and seafood salad. There was another passenger to be picked up before they headed to the resort where the weekend’s game would begin. They traveled north and then turned east to a little hamlet called Holly.
The driver assisted a young man of about twenty-two years of age with his luggage. For only a weekend stay, Dennis thought that four suitcases was a little much. When he entered the rear of the limo, he took a seat across from Dennis, giving him an ample view of his fellow passenger. He was on the effeminate side, with shoulder-length red hair. He believed in enhancing his looks with a layer of make-up, mascara, and eye liner.
“I’ve never been in a limousine before, so I might as well avail myself of everything here.” He took a bottle of champagne, opened it, and poured himself a glass of bubbly. “Name is Billie. That’s spelled with an “i-e” and no “y.”
Dennis hated drag queens. “My name is Dennis. Nothing fancy about the spelling.”
“Well, hi, Dennis. Join me in some bubbly?”
“Might as well.”
A little sissy-type giggle escaped Billie’s throat.
“Well, Dennis, here’s to you. May we both survive the weekend!” Billie raised his glass in a toast. Dennis thought, The guy may be young and femme, but at least he’s got some style. Billie draped his left leg over his right knee and leaned back as the limousine turned onto the highway.
The chauffeur’s voice came over the intercom system. “Gentlemen, I have been instructed to arrive at the lodge at exactly seven-thirty. We have about forty-five minutes of driving ahead of us, so if you need me for anything, just push the intercom button on the left door. Relax and enjoy yourselves as well as the ride.”
Forty-five minutes trapped with a queen. Well, it could be worse, Dennis thought. It could be an hour.
Dennis asked, “What do you want to do now?”
“I’ve never done it in a limousine. You ever had sex in a limo before?”
“No, I can’t honestly say that I have.”
“Well, do you want to? And yes, I’m usually this direct.”
“Sometime before breakfast, one of you will be killed. It is up to the rest of you to unmask the murderer before Sunday noon. Remember that everyone on the premises is a suspect. Catch the culprit…if you can. Good luck. All clues have been planted. It is up to you to discern and evaluate them. And one word of warning, accept nothing and no one at face value. You all have assigned roles to play. Have fun and remember that anything, and I mean anything, goes!”
Jason thought that maybe he could have fun in bed with his ‘wife’ once he realized it was the young man now in full drag who had arrived with Dennis. After all, there were roles to be performed and the young man playing his wife was definitely sexually alluring once he looked past the make-up and the dress. Billie also liked the feeling of Jason’s hand on his nylon-encased thigh.
As Jason left with Billie, his ‘wife’ for the weekend, he gave Dennis a wink. Dennis turned to Carlo, “He’s going to have a good time tonight. Wish I had a video camera in their room.”
Carlo laughed. “Yeah, I’d say that one is going to learn what ‘wifely duty’ means before the night is over.” Carlo rounded the end of the bar and pressed his lips tightly against Dennis’ lips in a fervent kiss.
Dennis inquired, “Your cabin or mine? A bed is better than here on the floor.”
“Invitation to a Murder,” a deviously sexy murder mystery novel by Duncan More, is available from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookstrand, All Romance ebooks, Kobo, Google, Apple, and Coffeetime Romance. Also available in print from Amazon. Our website is http://www.beautobeau.com.