Boys in Bed: Gay anthology

Boys in Bed: Gay anthology

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781908766168
Publisher: Xcite Books
Publication date: 01/31/2013
Series: Xcite Best-Selling Gay Collections , #3
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 242
Sales rank: 183,694
File size: 264 KB

About the Author

Elizabeth Coldwell joined Xcite Books in 2011. Formerly the editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine and co-founder of the Guild of Erotic Writers, she has been writing erotic fiction for over twenty years and her work has been widely published in the UK and US. She enjoys writing across the spectrum of erotica genres, from m/m space opera to girl/girl messy fun, vanilla to BDSM, paranormal to contemporary.


Lynn Lake’s fantasies could fill a book – and have (or, at least, parts of many, many books). Her imagination substitutes for a somewhat dreary existence in the middle of nowhere home to a particularly harsh climate. She’s a frustrated crime writer (few markets) and an unfulfilled SF author (no science background). Her erotic experiences, frankly, look better on paper, where she need not discriminate based on couplings, positionings, flogging devices, and/or binding materials. Rich, thick, wet ink spilling out of the golden nib of a finely-crafted fountain pen onto bright, white, textured paper is a form of ecstasy to her, free of STD’s.

She has a cat and an insatiable craving to express herself. 

Inspiration comes from everywhere, everything, and everybody she meets or sees or visualizes, but mostly from her mind (very often early in the morning when she first wakes up). She doesn’t wait for the wet muse to tingle her in the appropriate places, however; oftentimes she just sits and stares at a blank piece of paper (Hilroy, lined, in a wire-bound notebook) until an idea strikes her and she pen-strokes it, first into a brief outline, and then into a full story (which usually goes through a, minimum, three-draft process). She’s fairly well-read and quite good at mimicking other styles, which helps in the whole process, as does her natural shyness.


Drew lives in London, England. He has been writing prose and drama since he was a teenager, which he has had published, in various publications, with increasing success, year on year, for the last fifteen years.

He has had stories published in the anthologies, Image Out Write 2012, Eros at Large (Paradise Press), Boys in Bed and Finished by Hand (Both Xcite Books). His essay, More Than Just Making Beds and Emptying Bedpans, was published in the 2010 anthology Nurses on the Run. He has had short stories published in the magazines Chroma, ScotsGay, Creative Week, 'Indie Scene' andGazebo Magazine; and on the websites Gay Flash Fiction, Velvet Mafia, Thick Jam, 1000 Words and The New Flash.  He is also a regular contributor to FS Magazine, a National Men’s Health magazine, Nursing Times and Nursing Standard, Britain’s leading nursing publications, and for the Nursing Standard where has been a guest editor three times. Sketches he's written have been performed in the Treason Show, the Brighton based satirical review show.

Find Drew at:

His website: www.drew-payne.co.uk

His Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/drew.payne.london 


Dominic Santi is a former technical editor turned rogue whose stories have appeared in many dozens of publications, including Hot Under the Collar, Surrender, Yes, Ma’am, Caught Looking, Sex and Candy, Voyeur Eyes Only: Vegas Windows, Backdoor Lover, Pleasure Me, Best American Erotica, and Red Hot Erotica. Contact him at dominicsanti@yahoo.com.


L.A. Fields is the author of The Disorder Series and My Dear Watson, a queer Sherlock Holmes pastiche. Her short fiction has appeared in anthologies of horror, erotica, and academia.

Find her online at:

Blog: la-fields.livejournal.com

 

Read an Excerpt

He had moved in closer, still fascinated by the slow movements of the Moroccan gentleman’s hand. Without looking up, he asked, ‘May I?’

‘Please, feel free.’

The gentleman had released his cock from his hand, watching intently as Mr Grisham carefully wrapped his supple fingers around the dark shaft. It had been hot and twitching to the touch. The velvet smooth softness of the outer sheath moved gloriously over the iron-hard centre, and in one slow movement he had drawn the dark foreskin back, completely exposing the glistening head. Mr Grisham had leant forward and, as he gently blew on the tip, his thumb came up to massage and rub at the base of the fully exposed head.

Above him, he had heard the gentleman groan softly, pushing his hips forward, toward Mr Grisham. Continuing to position his head closer, Mr Grisham had moved down so that his lips were barely an inch away from the smooth and inviting glans. Seconds later, he had started to tease the slit and the swollen head with the firm, wet tip of his outstretched tongue.

The gentleman had stifled another collection of sounds as he arched his back and pushed his shoulders against the wall of the changing room. With hurried hands he had loosened his tie, unbuttoned his white shirt, and pulled the loose ends around his back, holding them there with his hands. It had exposed a glorious mat of pubic hair, and above it, the flat, slightly muscular stomach and smooth black chest. As he looked back down again, below his fingers young Mr Grisham had seen the slightly parted legs, and between them the pendulous, dark scrotum – its contents clearly outlined as they hung down and bounced against the gentleman’s inner thighs.

Breathing heavily himself, the shop assistant had moved his hand down so that it was wrapped around the base of the wonderful shaft, then he proceeded to tongue-whip the head – teasing the sensitive underside, slapping his tongue across the top and sides before licking the shaft up and down in long, hard, wet strokes. Reaching down with his free hand he had carefully cupped the beautifully dark sack from below, taking the weight into the palm of his hand and rolling the contents gently with his fingers.

The Moroccan gentleman had brought one of his hands back around in front of him and pushed his fingers into Mr Grisham’s hair, urging his head further into the gentleman’s exposed groin. As he thrust his hips forward, he bit at his bottom lip, then whispered, ‘Perhaps if you were to suck on it …’

Without pausing, the young sales assistant had opened his mouth slightly and guided the swollen top to his lips. Slowly and deliberately he had popped the bulbous head in and out of his mouth until its rich blackness gleamed with saliva under the muted changing room lights.

In response, the gentleman again ran his fingers through Mr Grisham’s hair, his voice cracking as he strained to keep it to a whisper. ‘Yes. Ah, yes!’

Spurred on, young Mr Grisham had slowly worked more and more of the shaft into his eager mouth, his other hand now gently tugging on the Moroccan’s scrotum, feeling it contract and its contents draw upward as he worked on it. As he repeatedly brought his head down he found the air around him becoming heavy with the smell of musky maleness. The sensation had made him work his jaw and lips all the more, his tongue sliding up and down the shaft as he started to take more and more of the glorious meat into his mouth with each head-bob. Then Mr Grisham had removed it completely, stroked it rapidly half a dozen times with his hand, then pushed it up so that it pressed firmly against the Moroccan gentleman’s belly.

Bending further down, the sales assistant then started to lick and suck on the tightening sack – lapping at his heavy pouch and bouncing the contents around on the tip of his tongue, before sucking first one and then the other into his hot mouth. They had seemed so large that he felt he could only manage one in his mouth at a time! For a fleeting moment he had moved even further down, licking underneath, then digging his tongue in between the gentleman’s legs. The sensation set the Moroccan gasping and moaning all the more, and he had spread himself wider, which allowed Mr Grisham to run his fingertips over and up the exposed flesh. Glancing up, he saw the gentleman’s face and his expression of shocked ecstasy, his eyes half closed and his tongue flicking repeatedly over his lips. 

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