End of the Chapter

 

I appreciated every single one of the comments on yesterday's post. The encouragement sure helps.

That said, here's the end of Chapter Three of my smut novella, Murder at The Woods. Some Faithful Readers have sent in suggestions for edits. Those have not been applied...yet. They will be before I submit to the new publisher. 

(Blue is to get you oriented to where we left off. But you can read from the beginning, if you care to, by clicking the "novella" label.)

[This will be the first full night at Deven's cabin.]

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Parts,” I said taking a moment to glance down at his hard-on. If more fun with those parts was on the horizon, then absolutely.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Reaching over to gather a bead of clear semen from the tip of my cock onto a finger, he stuck it into his mouth and sucked. Then abruptly turned his attention to the bobbing and weaving and waving arms of the dance floor.

I sat there with my cock as stiff as the beams of the pergola. He had this selfish, devious smirk on his face; so pleased with himself. What the fuck. Did he just like seeing how aroused he could get me? Deven had never given any indication he would go any further than enjoying the effect of his labor, other than expecting favors in return.

My head pounded from the noise of the music and my upbeat attitude slipped to sullen weariness. I yawned, tapped him on the arm, and stabbed a thumb over my shoulder to indicate my imminent exit. He nodded, set his beer down, and we walked back to the cabin.

We no sooner closed the door on the chirping crickets and nightbirds than he grabbed my t-shirt by the hem, pulled me to him and lifted it over my head. Exhausted from the very long day, I wanted to flop down and sleep.

“Okay,” he said in a whisper and led me to the bed.

I rolled to my side, the position I always slept in. He curled himself up against me, his package nestled into the small of my back. He nuzzled my neck with soft, wet kisses. A moan escaped without permission as my cock grew hard. A hand found it and started a slow, gentle stroking up and down the shaft. His boner thrust against me to the same rhythm. I rolled to my back to grasp it and he pushed my hand away.

“No. Just enjoy this. You’ll sleep better,” he said, even though he stroked himself.

Well, why not? I’d read that lots of men liked jacking off with other guys and would even lend a hand. I let myself relax into it. He stroked me, massaged my balls, and fingers slid and pressed along the very root. I sensed the storm gathering, my hips undulated. My nuts pulled up, signaling the explosion.

I barely registered his change in position, but I sure noticed the mouth lower over my cock. His tongue tickled the underside of the head. I uttered “Oh, fuck.” as the eruption began. And he sucked until it subsided. He licked me clean. Tired as I was, I wrestled with returning the favor. He gently pushed my hand from his shaft, whispered, “Go to sleep.” and I drifted off.

I woke with filtered dawn light through gauze curtains and morning wood doing its best to hold the full bladder at bay. At least one foot had to be in open air or sleep escaped me. The sheet covering my torso tented at my crotch. I pushed it aside, and rushed to the tiny bathroom. My brain registered the urinal and let the stream loose despite the usual trouble pissing with a stiff dick.

The subsiding erection pointed the way back out to the room proper and an empty bed. I dug the sleep grit from my eyes, and wandered about looking for the shirt that Deven had pulled off me.

The door opened and his body cast a shadow over me. “What do you need?”

“Coffee and a shower. In that order.”

He held a cup aloft. “Black, I hope.”

“Thanks.” At that moment it didn’t matter, really. The stronger the better to help make sense of what was happening. He spends every weekend night with a different woman, but brings me here for sword play and sucks me off to boot? Okay, so maybe he was one of those mythical bisexual dudes one heard about. Maybe he was more fluid than I gave him credit for; able to masturbate together and, maybe, share a blow job.

The coffee had cooled during the time it took him to walk it from the Lodge, and I gulped it down. Weak-ish. I held the empty out to him and wanted more.

“Leave it on the table next to the couch. Come on, walk to the showers. They’re right next to the Lodge, you can grab another cup.”

“Towels?”

“You’re not very talkative first thing in the morning, are you?” He chuckled. “Tracy puts a whole stack of them on a shelf.”

I followed him, this time drinking in every luscious flex of his ass. My cock noticed. He noticed my cock.

The showers were under a tin roof. No walls, just a roof. Pipes grew out from the ground along the edge of the cement pad, running up to rain-style heads. Dim bulbs in protective metal fences shone from the peak. Shoulder to shoulder we stood under the spray. I tipped my head back to let warm water cascade over me. Almost heaven. A soapy hand wrapped around my erection and stroked.

Reaching over to reciprocate felt so good. Stroking a cock that wasn’t mine made for a delightful change of pace from the past several months. Okay, now it was heaven. Deven put his hands on my shoulders and pressed. An easy signal to follow, but he still added, “My turn.”

As mush as temptation bit at my brain to ask if he’d cum last night, I put my mouth to better use. And realized his “normal cut cock” got hard but not a lot larger, much to my preference. Having some monster, like the twins sported, rammed down my throat never did appeal to me. Being able to suck and lap at all four inches or so without straining, without worrying about a gag reflex? Yeah. I also appreciated the hairless shaft and ball sac. A hetero, well, sort-of hetero, man who believed in proper hygiene and grooming surprised me. Maybe he’d watched the original Queer Eye.

He stood on his toes, trying not to go over the edge when he pulled me off. “Not yet.”

Hope you enjoyed this little excerpt.

A Bit Perplexed

 

The publisher rejected my novella. Well, not entirely. They asked for some changes that leave me a bit perplexed. See, they want a whole bunch of "had" embedded in the prose. "He'd had..." When they had had..." "Flagg had..."

That's what editors and publishers want when they think their readers are too stupid to follow a story which contains flashbacks. 

I'm struggling with whether to acquiesce.

Here's the opening of Chapter 3. (Blue is the end of Chapter 2, to get you oriented.)

Deven married? I couldn’t fathom that. He liked playing the field as it were. I suppose there may have been an ex-girlfriend. But how many one-nighters ago would that have been? Certainly before he moved in there, or I would’ve noticed. I think.

But his behavior at the Woods that first night might be an indication someone discovered a side of Deven she didn’t like.

Chapter 3

We had a great afternoon at the lake. Lot’s of swimming, sunning, laughing. More and more men arrived. The beach filled up. The supplied cooler with iced water and sports drinks emptied. Somewhere along the way it occurred to me that this whole naked in nature thing made me feel…free. Like I finally understood that a penis isn’t something shameful, and realized what it meant to be proud instead. ‘Course, at age thirty-eight, it took long enough, didn’t it?

At one point, two brothers showed up. The Twins as everyone called them were a sight to behold: In their mid-forties, slim and tanned, with the longest, thickest cocks and the biggest low-hanging balls I’d ever seen in my life. They were like overripe peaches weighing down toward the ground. One carried a volley ball, pointed to the net situated near the water’s edge and asked for a game. I bowed out. What could be better than sitting on the sidelines and watching all that delicious heavy meat bobbing and swaying. That alone would be worth the price of admission. As the game progressed, I started to wince, and my knees pulled together, thinking about the bruising those balls took. At one point, I asked who these guys were and how to tell them apart.

“The one with the gold barbell nipple piercings is Alan. The silver is Alec.”

“Are they, you know, together?”

“Of course,” came the answer as if to say only an idiot wouldn’t know that. I couldn’t imagine anyone else willing to tackle those rods. Man or woman. I knew two brothers in high school who jerked off together all the time, but never knew that “twincest” was a real thing.

There were the expected trips to the trees to piss. Or for what they thought were the surreptitious blow jobs or ass poundings. I mean, it was a clothing optional and, obviously, very gay resort. Besides the fact grunting and moaning gave them away.

I got lots of backstory on most of the guys. But not a word about Deven. It was like my neighbor had warned them to secrecy or some shit. It made me wonder, again, why he would be here. Other than he couldn’t find any women willing to give him the occasional treat of allowing him to plow their butts. Maybe he couldn’t get blow jobs either, but that was doubtful. As the sun lowered, someone slapped at a mosquito and declared it time to head back to the Lodge. We walked as a group, mostly silent. The glances my way didn’t go unnoticed by Deven.

Each time one of the guys moved in my direction, Deven would slide into their approach path. I’m not sure what he thought he was protecting me from. But, he’d say, “Distance! Covid, you know.” And any interloper would stray back to his own lane.

We donned fresh shirts but no pants for dinner. We found clean towels placed on the seat of every chair at the dining tables, and a line of pre-served dinners on the buffet. And despite the late hour, for me anyway, wisps of steam rose from the plates. Veal Picata, au gratin potatoes, green beans drizzled with butter and dusted with Parmesan. Healthy-sized wedges of cheesecake for dessert. Tracy called this a Boxed Meal? I don’t know how much a week here cost but Tracy knew how to keep guests happy.

Every bite brought a mini orgasm to the tastebuds. Deven retrieved a bottle of white pinot and we shared it around the table with our dining partners, Mitchell and Nick. The bear pair who both turned out to be even more personable and even funnier than they’d been during the afternoon at the lake.

A set of double doors led out behind the building. A large patio, candles graced a few highboy tables, party lights strung from the rafters, tiny twinkling lights adorned the perimeter shrubbery and brought lightning bugs to mind. Gloria Gaynor suddenly blared from hidden speakers suggesting we’d survive while disco lights flashed. This place had it all.

I stood at a table nursing a cold beer, happy to be watching the crowd. Deven nudged me and jutted his chin toward the dance floor. “Can’t,” I responded, leaning in to his ear and still feeling the need to yell. “Bum knee,” I lied. I couldn’t dance a lick. Seriously. Whenever I tried, I flopped around like a fish on the bottom of a boat.

He disappeared for a few minutes, then grabbed my forearm and tugged. A heavy sigh escaped me as I allowed myself to be pulled along. By the time we hit the floor, the music had changed to a ballad. He swept me into his arms, pulled me close, and proceeded to grind a naked thigh into my cock. Surprise number, what? I think I’d already lost track of unexpected things.

It took all of ten seconds for my boner to appear and his was close behind. He grabbed my ass with both hands and tugged. Fairly well matched in height, our hard shafts found each other. As the precum flowed, slippery cock played with slippery cock. I glanced around afraid others would notice. Turned out to be wrong. They were all paired up, swaying away.

So, okay, there was no denying how great it felt to be that close to another body again, to feel the hardness of another dick, after so many months of jacking off to porn. I wanted it to go on for hours. At the same time, if it did, I’d cum right there on the dance floor. If that’s what Deven had in mind he was about to succeed. When the music changed again to the thump-thump-thump club beat, he wrapped a hand around my shaft and, using it like some kind of leash, led me back to our table.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Parts,” I said taking a moment to glance down at his hard-on. If more fun with those parts was on the horizon, then absolutely.

So, what do you think? Do you need "had" to know where the story timeline is?

(If you click the 'novella' tag you should be able to read from the beginning.)

End of Chapter Two

 

I'm feeling very lazy today. Partly cloudy with more thick, black ones rolling in, and the winds are kicking up again. It always makes me want to curl up and hibernate.

But I do need to finish Book 4 of my smut series.

The word from the publisher --- through my writer friend: Sent back to the author for revisions and resubmission. The problem is, I haven't received anything from them. I can't do changes if I don't know what they are suggesting. So, my friend is inquiring as to what happened. In the meantime, work continues on Book 4.

Since many Faithful Readers have asked for more.... Here's a continuation. Blue to remind where we left off.

I had to admit he had gorgeous legs, like a dancer’s; long, and well-toned, well defined muscles. His ass flexing with every step he took I really didn’t want to catch up to walk alongside him. I also didn’t want him to notice the chub developing. But I didn’t want to creep him out, either, and did my best to act as if my cock was always like that, even though he probably knew better.

The closer we got to the lake the more voices carried on the slight breeze riding in from the west. The second Deven cleared the tree line he let out a whoop and ran to the crowd. Cheers erupted amid shouts of his name and hugs all around. Close hugs. So, he didn’t fear catching cooties from other men’s junk. So much for social distancing, for the second time since we’d arrived. He sure was popular. I hoped by the end of our week I would know why. Nice guy? Yes. But there must’ve been more to it than that.

I stood feeling out of my element. Truth. I’d been naked around plenty of men—in locker rooms where no one paid much obvious attention. This whole nudism thing put a little pit in the middle of my stomach. I scratched the side of my head. The focus turned to me.

Low whistles accompanied, “Who’s the hunk?”

Deven answered as if he knew who they asked about. “Everyone, this is Connor, my neighbor.”

Deven pointed as he named each guy. Not that any stuck. My brain was too busy trying to take it all in. A couple were big, burly types: one with a full beard, the other so furry that only the absence of tits clued to gender. One obvious body-builder: muscles bulging with every move. Three smooth and slender: Micheal Phelps swimmer-type bodies. Every one of them handsome in their own way. I deliberately avoided looking at crotches, though I couldn’t help but notice a jeweled cock ring glittering in the sun. Not that they afforded me the same consideration.

“Oh, baby. Damn, he’s hung.”

I was? I never thought so.

Deven laughed. “That’s nothing compared to when he’s hard.”

The expression on my face must’ve spoken the question. Deven said, “You think I haven’t watched you jerking off in your back yard, your dick lubed up with tanning oil?”

My face went hot with embarrassment. A couple of the guys made moves to approach me.

“Hands off, boys,” Deven said. “He’s mine.”

I was? When did that happen?

“You are. This entire week. Don’t forget it.”

What the hell? He sure didn’t need to bring me all this way to fuck me. All he had to do was ask. I mean, I heard plenty of straight men would slip a dick like that. A colleague once joked, “Shit, turn out the lights, lather up the lube, and it’s just a really tight pussy.”

“Oh, my. Connor, you are a lucky, lucky man,” one of the Phelps images said. “I think I’m jealous.”

I was? Why?

Obviously, they all knew something about my neighbor that had them frothing at the loins. Maybe it was that old gay myth, the fantasy of turning the straight dude to the dark side. That thought made me chuckle. Only if Deven’s a strict top.

A poke to the shoulder by Detective Blue Jeans brought me back to reality. “You ever been inside his house?”

I had to really think about that. “Sure, I guess. Maybe.”

“Either yes or no, it’s not that tough a question.”

“Probably, but it would’ve been before this whole virus thing hit. Why?”

“If we find your prints, I’d hate to think you lied.”

“Oh.” I suddenly found myself doing a calendar check in my head. I took a few things to him over the years, and in the weeks leading up to the trip; desserts I’d made mostly. Baking gave me something to occupy my time. What better way to avoid packing on the pounds than sharing with a neighbor? Though I didn’t remember going any farther than the front doorstep. I felt a tickle of sweat run down the back of my neck, hoping they wouldn’t decide to inspect my house where Deven had spent time inside.

“If I have any more questions—you don’t mind answering questions, do you?”

I shook my head.

“Good. I like it when people cooperate with an investigation. If I need anything, I can knock on your door?”

I nodded.

He dug into the chest pocket of his blazer and pulled out a card. He inspected it, pulled out a pen and scratched a line through something. As he wrote, he said in explanation, “The department gave us new cell phones but no new cards. Go figure. Budgets or some bullshit.”

He handed me the card. Randall Flagg. Detective, Homicide Division. Really? Randall Flagg? I laughed. Couldn’t help myself. When I opened my mouth to speak, he held up a hand.

“Can it. I’ve heard every Stephen King joke there is.” He spun on his heels and headed up toward the house. He stopped short. “Are you married Mr….?”

“Bradshaw. Connor Bradshaw. Nope.”

“Smart man. Relationships can get messy. Divorces get messier.”

My head tilted with, I hoped, complete innocence. Innocence of heavy relationships. Innocence of marital strife. But mostly, innocence of murder.

“See ya.” He tossed a wave then hesitated. “Your neighbor, was he married? Maybe an angry ex floating around somewhere?”

This guy played a good imitation of that one bumbling TV detective. A real investigator wouldn’t be this addled, would they? “Uh, no. Not that I’m aware of.”

Deven married? I couldn’t fathom that. He liked playing the field as it were. I suppose there may have been an ex-girlfriend. But how many one-nighters ago would that have been? Certainly before he moved in there, or I would’ve noticed. I think.

But his behavior at the Woods that first night might be an indication someone discovered a side of Deven she didn’t like.

That's the end of Chapter Two.

Another Snippet

 

A couple people have asked for another snippet of the novella. Blue is the very end of Chapter 1 to get you oriented.

            I picked up my small overnight duffle and we went in. With the exception of a water closet with both a urinal and toilet, and small sink, it was one large room. A couch and two occasional chairs faced a flat screen tv on the wall. A stereo system sat on a table below the television. Hugging the back wall: a single king bed.

Chapter Two

Detective Belted Blue Jeans bored into me like I’d been up at the Woods for the past two weeks. “Your neighbor’s calendar has you up there with him. How long were you there?”

“Uh, yeah, I went with him. I mean, he drove, you know? I st— we stayed for a week. I had to get back to work. I work from home.”

“It would appear that everyone works from home these days. Well, everyone who doesn’t have to be tromping around the tri-state area trying to solve a murder.”

Murder? Deven had been murdered? My knees buckled. The detective’s instinctual reach missed due to the social distance required. I grabbed onto the low wall separating the properties. “Are you sure? I mean, Deven was a really decent guy, I think. He was neighborly, you know?”

“The coroner over there found his death suspicious and brought us in to help investigate. You never know what can turn up in a victim’s house.” He eyed me as if to make sure I got the point. “But while you were up there with him—you say the two of you returned after a week, I can verify that, you know.” More pointed eye contact. “But while you were there, was there anything that may have struck you odd? Did his behavior change at all?”

Hoo, brother. What a loaded question. In the three years he lived in the house next to me, he conducted himself like a master womanizer. So many different women. Every one of them stunning. I wondered what he had that attracted them. What do women even look for? A nice-looking guy with a tiny bit of a belly and little love handles, so it wasn’t his body though I liked the dad-bod look. It’s not like he packed a package, either. He possessed an…average cut cock.

The minute we entered the cabin and I noticed that one bed, doubts crept up for me. This was not going to go well, was it? I did the only thing I could think of to avoid an awkward bedtime or, worse, an immediate return to the city.

“I’ll take the couch. I mean, you paid for this, the bed should be yours.”

He looked at me like I had suddenly developed three heads. “Why? Are you afraid of sleeping in the same bed with a guy?”

“Uh, no. I just thought…you know.”

“What?”

“You, you know, you wouldn’t want….”

He laughed. “You don’t know me very well. But you will. Before the day is out, you will. I promise.”

I managed a smile. “Uh, okay. Cool.”

Still naked from when he stopped on the roadway, he headed for the door which hung open. “Now, drop the bag. And for fuck’s sake take the clothes off. Come on, I feel like going down to the lake.”

There seemed to be nothing else for it. I pulled the t-shirt off, popped the buttons on my pants and shed them, tossed everything on top of my bag and followed. It felt weird to be walking around in shoes and a mask but that’s how everyone was dressed. Or, undressed. Deven walked with such sheer confidence, a swagger, really. Waving to other guys as we passed them, it seemed he knew everyone by name. Well, why wouldn’t he if he made this an annual trip?

I had to admit he had gorgeous legs, like a dancer’s; long, and well-toned, well defined muscles. His ass flexing with every step he took I really didn’t want to catch up to walk alongside him. I also didn’t want him to notice the chub developing. But I didn’t want to creep him out, either, and did my best to act as if my cock was always like that, even though he probably knew better.

************************

Just some random photos that might fit the prose.

Someone asked if I heard from the publisher yet. Nope. Their submission FAQs say it can take 4 to 6 weeks to get a response.

Much patience is needed to be a writer.

😐

Have a wonderful weekend

I hope you are still intrigued enough to want more.