ROTC RON by Drew Hunt

ROTC RON by Drew Hunt

Joe Barnes is infatuated with fellow college freshman Ron Driscoll. Ron is in the ROTC program and Joe starts to dress in military clothing to emulate his idol. But apart from discussions in philosophy class, Joe is too shy to speak to Ron, and Ron doesn’t break away from his circle of admirers long enough to notice that Joe is alive.

Joe all but throws himself at Ron during a discussion of Kant’s views on beauty. But Ron remains unaware of Joe’s feelings.

One Friday after class Joe visits the bathroom and finds himself blindfolded and put in handcuffs. Having a secret kink for bondage Joe is by turns scared and aroused.

Ron has planned a romantic and kinky weekend with Joe in the Allegheny mountains where soft rope will be needed, but clothes will not.

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EXCERPT:

Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.



Gathering his books, Joe put them in his backpack and left the classroom, his mind still amazed at how he’d managed to daydream through an entire session. He’d have to see if he could get the notes from someone, but that would mean asking, initiating a conversation. Joe quailed at the thought.

As was his usual custom, Joe paid a visit to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. He was nothing if not consistent in his behavior, a fact that he would soon learn someone else had bargained upon.

Closing his eyes as his stream began, Joe felt someone take his hands and pull them behind his back. “What the ...!”

Joe felt cold metal surround his wrists and heard the snap of a lock being closed. This was immediately followed by a hand clamping itself over his mouth, muffling his further protests. Joe began to struggle, but the man’s other hand had a firm grip on him.

“Quiet,” a breathy voice said in his ear. “You won’t come to any harm if you do exactly what I tell you.”

Joe began to turn to see who was ambushing him.

“No, eyes front and center.”

“Hum, um.” Joe mumbled unintelligibly into the man’s palm, and recommenced his struggles.

“Quit wriggling, your piss is going everywhere.” The voice was calm, unhurried, strangely soothing.

But all his senses told Joe to fight, to run away.

“Joe, please don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.”

Somehow the words penetrated Joe’s feverishly racing brain, and much to his surprise he began to relax. The rest of his stream flowed into the urinal.

“Great, man. I’m gonna take my hand from your mouth now. Will you promise not to yell? I promise you won’t be harmed.”

Joe considered the question. There was a certain element of kinky enjoyment mixed in with his fear. He slowly nodded his assent and the hand was removed.

“What’s going on? Who are you?” Despite everything Joe remembered to talk quietly.

“It’s okay, little one. I know you have questions. All will be revealed soon. All I ask is that you trust me a bit longer. Can you do that?” The voice sounded odd, as if its owner was trying to disguise it by talking gruffly.

“Uh, yeah.” This was seven kinds of weird, but oddly Joe didn’t feel scared. He was miffed the guy called him little one though. Joe may have only been five feet even, but that didn’t give him the right to ...

“Thank you, little one.”

Joe ground his teeth. Where did this dude get off calling him that? He was about to say something when the guy’s next words froze the comment in his throat.

“I’m going to put a blindfold on you.”

Joe tried to turn around, but the hand went back to his mouth and held him still. An arm wrapped around him to prevent the rest of his body from moving.

“Joe, don’t fight me. I repeat what I said earlier. If you cooperate, you won’t be harmed.”

Joe’s struggles slowly began to lessen, and the man loosened his hold.

“You’re being very brave, and trust me, this will be rewarded.”

A strip of cloth fell over Joe’s eyes and was tightened at the back of his head.

“Doing great, bud. Really great.” The voice never lost any of its calm reassurance or its gruff disguise.

Joe’s mind, now it had had time to process things a little, began to wonder as to the identity of his attacker. The guy was certainly strong, but from what he could tell, wasn’t much taller than he was.

Joe felt a warm, dry, gentle hand take hold of his dick. The hand stroked it a few times, then after a couple of quick shakes, Joe felt his equipment being put away. Once his fly was buttoned up, he felt a tender pat on his bulge. All of this diverted Joe’s mind from its previous task of trying to identify his assailant.

“Now the adventure truly begins. I’m gonna lead you out of here and to the parking lot. Then we’re gonna go on a long ride to somewhere real special. Somewhere where we can spend the weekend together.”

Joe tensed.

“I don’t want you to worry about a thing. It’s all been taken care of. I’ve called the restaurant and told them you’ll be, uh, tied up all weekend,” the guy laughed softly at his joke.

Joe shivered; he’d long held secret bondage fantasies, of being bound with rope. Could, would this guy do that to him?

“I ...” How did this man know where he worked, and ...

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you, watching you real close. Oh, almost forgot.” Joe heard a zipper then rustling. He felt something being draped over his shoulders. “It’s to cover the handcuffs, we don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves.”

Joe nodded uncertainly. And walking around with a strip of cloth over my eyes and being guided like a blind person wouldn’t draw people’s attention?

“Now we’re ready,” the voice said close to Joe’s ear. “Don’t make a fuss, and I promise you’ll have the most wonderful weekend you could ever imagine. Draw attention to us, and I’ll just release you and it’ll be over before it’s really begun. Capiche?”

“I’m scared, this is all --”

The rest of Joe’s words were cut off by a pair of lips closing over his. A hand cupped the back of his head and pulled him in closer, increasing the pressure of the kiss. After a moment the hand and the lips were removed, leaving Joe reeling and breathless.

“That’s just a taste of what’s ahead for you if you’re willing to cooperate.”

“I ... Uh.” Joe couldn’t remember the last time he’d been kissed so completely, so passionately, so ...

“You want this weekend to happen?”

“Uh,” Talk about being in the Twilight Zone. “You promise not to hurt me, or --”

“I promise, babe.”

Did he say ‘babe’?

Joe felt the guy wrap an arm around his shoulders in jock casual fashion.

“Okay, ready to do this?”

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NOT IN THE NFL by Terry O'Reilly

NOT IN THE NFL by Terry O'Reilly

Adam Davis isn’t gay! He can’t be -- he’s a super star NFL quarterback and gay men don’t survive in the NFL. But along comes Brendan Fletcher, an outstanding, Super Bowl-winning linebacker who awakens something in Adam, something Adam hadn’t known was there. And now it’s wakened, the quarterback will never be the same.

Despite the threat to their careers and their personal safety, Adam and Brendan find themselves irresistibly drawn to each other, starting something that grows from gratification of mutual needs to something more. Can these men of strength and power on the gridiron overcome the homophobia of their profession? Can they make what they have found stand for something more important than the fame and fortune of playing NFL football or even becoming Super Bowl champions?

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.



Adam made his way to the john, went in and took a piss. Standing in front of the mirror, he splashed a little cool water on his face. The door opened behind him and Brendan walked in, locked the door and proceeded to the toilet where he unzipped his pants, took out his dick and began to urinate.

“Thanks for the privacy,” Adam said.

“Hey, you're the one who didn't lock the door,” Brendan chuckled.

Adam glanced down at Brendan's cock as it emitted its golden stream. He felt something akin to a swoop in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the man's impressive equipment. He raised his eyes and saw Brendan had caught him looking. He turned back to the mirror, blushed, and pretended to check his face by rubbing his chin.

Brendan walked up behind him. Adam turned to face him. Brendan was taller than Adam's six foot three by an inch or two and probably outweighed him by twenty pounds. Broad shouldered and deep-chested, Brendan was a beautiful specimen of manhood. Right now his handsome face, with its deep brown eyes and ready smile was inches from Adam's. Adam could smell the alcohol on his breath. He felt the swoop again.

Hang on, why am I thinking this? I’m straight!

“No harm in checking out what the competition’s got,” Brendan said in a low husky voice as he reached out and fondled Adam's hardening cock through his khakis. Putting his other hand behind Adam's head, Brendan pulled the quarterback toward him. Before Adam fully realized what was happening, Brendan was kissing him, Adam was opening his mouth, and allowing Brendan's tongue to caress his. At the same time as the men embraced, Brendan's hands slid down and pressed the flesh of Adam's firm, muscular ass.

“Whoa!” Adam cried out, breaking the connection, pushing Brendan back. “What the fuck are you doin'?”

“What I think you want me to do.” Brendan smiled, putting his hand back on Adam's shoulder.

“What the fuck gives you that idea?” Adam said, pushing the hand off of him.

Brendan merely smiled, turned to the mirror and brushed his thick, dark brown hair into place with his hand. “You'll figure that out one of these days.”

Adam was about to ask him what the hell he meant by that when there was a knock on the door.

“Hey, you gonna be in there all night? I gotta go,” a deep voice said that Adam recognized as coming from Ashanti Peters, one of the offensive tackles.

Adam felt a wave of panic sweep over him. This guy was one of the biggest homophobes on the team: always preaching about how faggots would burn in hell, and making disparaging remarks whenever he saw anyone he thought might be a homosexual.

“Keep your pants zipped!” Brendan called out. “It's gonna take as long as it's gonna take, man. Go use the can in the master bedroom.”

“Randy's in there with a couple a groupies, dude!”

“Then politely say 'excuse me' as you walk by,” Brendan told him.

“Fuck!” the lineman said. Adam could hear him retreating down the hall, cursing loudly.

Adam let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He was trembling all over, half from the intense sexual arousal that still permeated his body and half from the fear of near exposure.

Brendan, still smiling, kissed him lightly on the cheek and walked to the door.

“Think about it, babe,” he said and left the room.

Adam raised his hand to the place where Brendan's kiss still lingered.

Think about it? What does that mean?

Adam took a steadying breath. After waiting long enough for his hard cock to relax and to make sure no one would see him come out so soon after Brendan, he left the bathroom.

* * * *

Adam lay on his back on the king-sized bed with its satin sheets in the master bedroom of his suite. As an all star QB he was entitled to private quarters. He had left the party shortly after the incident in the john with Brendan. He told everyone to have a good time and thanked them again for their great play. He was in no mood to party anymore after what had happened, and didn’t want to run into Brendan again.

Returning to his own room he had showered and gone to bed, all the while trying not to think about what had transpired in the penthouse bathroom. Was the thing he was trying to avoid thinking about the very thing Brendan had wanted him to think about? And why had he called him ‘babe’? Wasn’t that some sort of term of endearment among gay men?

“Fuck!” he said aloud as he tossed and turned.

He had thought about jacking off. That usually relieved the tension after a game if he didn’t have Brenda with him to get him off. But, as soon as he had started, the only images that came to mind were those of Brendan and what they had done.

Adam couldn’t let himself think of stuff like that. Gay guys didn’t survive -- not in the NFL.


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COWBOY DRIFTER by Winona Wilder

COWBOY DRIFTER by Winona Wilder
Coming Out 2

James doesn't know how he'll survive a road trip with Jet Cartwright. The cowboy drifter has been his wet dream for years, and keeping his true feelings hidden takes a herculean effort.

Jet travels the rodeo circuit and handles horse trading for busy ranchers. Settling down never crossed his mind - until he meets James, a mix of innocence and raw sex appeal. Jet quickly learns that he's willing to give up his ways for the young blond.

Will James be able to come clean with his feelings? Will Jet be able to show the younger man the many pleasures of the flesh, and will that be enough?


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WIN - Leave Winona a question today at her Cyber Launch Party and your name goes in the hat for a copy of book one in her Coming Out Series - CHOOSING LOVE. Please leave your email address so we can contact you if you are today's winner - Good Luck!Excerpt:

After he dropped the metal ramp with an echoing boom, he plucked off his cowboy hat long enough to drag his hand through his tousled hair. Jet stared up at the sky, tracking the movement of the sun and clouds. James only watched with awe and respect of such a traveled, experienced cowboy.

“Clouds are rolling in fast now. I’d say we best hurry on our way. There’ll be a rainstorm tonight, a good one.” James believed every word. When his father said there’d be rain, it always arrived as promised whether the weatherman agreed or not.

James followed Jet into the narrow confines between the horses, patting the nervous Arabian on the rump before passing. Jet’s back was toned to perfection. James wanted to reach out and trail his hand down the length of his backbone. Fuck, Jet even had a nice ass, hard and round, filling out his jeans in an unholy way. “Do your tattoos mean anything?” he asked when they reached the end of the metal trailer.

“Hope you’re not considering getting one yourself.” Jet turned and leaned against the metal, sighing and closing his eyes briefly. The cool metal would be a sharp relief from the stifling humid heat in the trailer. “You have a beautiful body. I’d hate to see it marked up.”

A beautiful body? Did men normally talk this way to each other? Jet was one hundred percent alpha-male goodness, so it must be politically correct to compliment another man. “I think your ink makes you look even hotter.” James bit his lower lip after he spoke, regretting his choice of words. The way Jet froze and stared into his eyes spoke volumes to the inappropriate nature of his comment. Perhaps only real men could say such things, not young questionable farm boys like James. Those with an openly gay brother.

“You think I’m hot?” Jet found humor in this, smirking as he rubbed his hand over his tat.

James swallowed hard. Why couldn’t Jet put his shirt back on? The distraction was making it difficult to maintain his charade.

“Go on,” he coaxed. “I know you want to touch it.”

He had no idea the things James wanted to do. His mind was a playground of unsavory and lewd acts he’d like to partake in with the older man. But he did need to touch Jet. He reached out without being prodded and flattened his palm over the other man’s shoulder. His skin was so warm and firm. He traced the pattern of the scrollwork down his arm, disappointed when he reached unmarked flesh. “I like it,” he whispered, not trusting his full voice to crack.

“Do you like me?” Jet used a curved finger under James’s chin to raise his vision from the trailer floor to meet his gaze. “Don’t play games with me, James. Do you like me?”

“Yes.” Fuck, he’d gone and said it. But he liked his parents, his brothers, his friends. There was no shame in admitting he liked Jet, right? But he didn’t just like the man, he craved him, desired him to the point of insanity. His cock grew impossibly stiff, lust and nerves combining together in an oddly erotic experience.

“Then really touch me.” Jet’s lips were parted, his eyes half mast, clearly mirroring his pent-up lust. Could it be true? James was still terrified this was all a misunderstanding or possibly a test planned by his father. But not going along with the invitation was not an option at this point. Boldness took over. James placed his hand on Jet’s pec, squeezing slightly. His body felt hard and edible. He wanted to sink his teeth into the thick muscles and trail his tongue down those ripped abs.

“James, you’re not being a good boy.” Jet grabbed his wrist and brought it down past his belt line. When the other man pressed his hand against the dominant bulge in his jeans, James gasped aloud. No more guessing games. Jet wanted him in carnal ways. How could such a hard-core cowboy be gay? It went against everything he was taught. If Waylon and Jet liked men, then maybe James was normal, too. “Feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

“I didn’t know.” Pressure began to build in his balls as heat radiated through his body. His urge to kiss the other man overwhelmed him.

“You ever suck a man’s dick, James?”

His face heated, and he pulled his hand away as if he’d been scalded. “No!” Even though they were being open and honest, he’d been brainwashed to find disgust in such talk.

“That’s right. You’ve never been with a man before, have you? I like that. You’ll be mine. Just for me.” The deep, authoritative tone of Jet’s voice had James ready and willing to submit, to be owned and dominated by this rugged cowboy.



ADULT EXCERPT



Jet gently spread James’s ass cheeks apart and admired the tight puckered rosette. He wanted to bend over and lick the cute little virgin hole but went to work by drizzling a line of lube down James’s crack. Jet kneaded his firm, muscled ass as he inched closer and closer to his target. When he ever so slowly inserted one finger into the tight entrance, James moaned and clenched down tight around his digit. The man’s body tensed, not unusual for one so inexperienced. Jet compensated, keeping his finger lodged in the man’s ass while reaching around to stroke his erection.

James groaned and loosened up. Jet pumped the hard shaft while circling his ass with his finger to stretch the unforgiving anal ring. He continued the sequence—pumping and circling while wiggling his finger. Next he inserted a second. “Push against me, James. Don’t tighten up.” Too bad he didn’t have his toys handy. He couldn’t peel himself away from James to grab the little bag in the backseat. Later. “Your ass is tight, baby. You’re gonna feel so good around my dick.”

“I can’t stop it, Jet. I’m gonna come.”

Jet pulled his hand away from James’s cock. “Not yet, sweet thing. I haven’t even deflowered you yet.” He aimed his rigid erection at James’s asshole and thrust forward in a steady, smooth motion. The young cowboy gritted his teeth loud enough to hear, his fists so tight the knuckles were white. “Relax. Take my cock in your ass. Feel it filling you, stretching you. The pressure won’t last, I promise.” The muscles in James’s back shifted with his rapid breathing and squirming. Such a beautiful, toned body.

James grunted once Jet was fully seated, balls deep in his ass. Jet stilled, allowing the cowboy time to adjust, to become accustomed to having a big dick penetrating him.

“If you promise not to come, you can stroke your dick. It’ll help you relax. Can you do that?”

James nodded and reached one arm down between his body and the truck bed. The thick muscles in his shoulder and arm went to work as he rapidly pumped his shaft. “I’m going to start fucking you now,” he warned. After pulling his dick out, he pistoned back in, back and forth in long, languid strokes. Jet was in heaven, watching his cock emerge and disappear into the tight ass over and over.

When James moaned, an erotic plea, Jet knew he’d crossed the line from pain into pleasure. He gripped the young man’s hips and pumped his cock in and out of his ass in firm, rapid movements. As the minutes passed, James wriggled against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. “You’re mine, James. Your ass is mine. Your cock is mine. Tell me it’s true.”

James only moaned each time he exhaled, too far gone for speech. Jet froze. “Answer me, baby. Tell me your cock and your ass belong to me.”

“Yes!” James panted. “I’m yours. You own my cock and my ass.”

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