Hump Day Hook – 23 October 2013

Hump Day Hook

Greetings, all!

Time to check out some Hump Day Hooks! We are currently exploring the world of my gay, gothic novella, Seawrack. If you would like to catch up on the previous clips, click here.

Sherwood repeated the question, calling him from his thoughts. Jesse marshaled his resources. “Yes, sir. I am.”

“Good!” Sherwood set the paper aside and rose. A thrill shivered along Jesse’s spine—the man was indeed handsome. Even-featured with a strong, square jaw, Sherwood’s face was dominated by striking blue eyes beneath straight, black brows; the man extended his hand, and Jesse shook hands. “Come along, Masterson. Walk with me.”

cabinet-of-curiositiesBack through the house, up thickly carpeted stairs and along a corridor, Sherwood led, chatting amiably as he pointed out, here and there, curiosities obtained through his travels. Jesse could easily fix his type—offhand and cheerful and kind—and happily it never dies out. His anxiety faded as he walked along, pleasantly entertained by his host’s soliloquy.

The men settled at last in what was clearly Sherwood’s study. Books and papers lay haphazardly about the room, which, otherwise, was elegant and gracefully appointed. Sherwood grew somber as he filled a pipe. “I am grateful to Livingston for recommending you—and am even more grateful to you for considering this position—as mine is a truly awkward situation.”

“Truthfully, Mister Sherwood,” Jesse spoke into the lull while his host fired his pipe, “Doctor Livingston has told me little of the position; although I am happy to begin immediately. I understand that there are two children—a boy and a girl.”

Thanks for stopping by!

Be sure to check out more Hookers here.

‘Til next time!

Hump Day Hook – 16 October 2013

Hump Day Hook

Greetings, all!

It’s once again time for a Hump Day Hook and some more from Seawrack! If you’re here for the first time, or would like a refresher, click here.

Self-consciously, Jesse lowered his arm and stepped across the threshold. The hall was well-appointed with pale walls and heavy, masculine wood; a hint of tobacco, dark and herbaceous, hung about. His hat and coat were relinquished, hung aside to dry.

“Mister Sherwood is expecting you. Follow me.”

The retainer escorted Jesse through the house, past spoils of travel and trophies of the chase. He conceived the owner as rich, but fearfully extravagant—saw him in a glow of high fashion, of good looks, of expensive habits and charming ways. He was led to a morning room, where warm yellow lamp light fended off the steely gray day. The remains of breakfast—a rack of pale toast and sausages congealing in grease—sat on the table, pushed to the side in favor of a newspaper.

Breakfast“The tutor, sir, Mister Masterson.”

“Thank you, Withers. That will be all for now.” The paper never moved.

Jesse stood, damp and awkward, unsure whether to speak or sit. He chose to stand, silently.

“Masterson, eh?” The paper rustled as a page was turned. “That seems a good name for a tutor.” More rustling, another page. “Are you a good tutor, Masterson?”

Jesse was distracted from the question by Sherwood’s voice. A thick, rich baritone, the sound was warm, bold and pleasant, reminding Jesse of honey and smoke. He imagined the man to be handsome and tall and dark; that type that was gallant and splendid.

Thanks for reading!

To check out more Hookers, click here. Also check out the Slippery When Wet Blog Hop for a sexy read and chances to win fun prizes!

‘Til next time!

Seductive Studs – 12 October 2013



Time for some Seductive Studs and a visit to The Greek Room! If you would like to catch up or have a refresher, click here.

Fluidly, James rolled them over and, sliding along Christos, took his cock in his mouth. Christos nearly spent right then and there. Months it had been since he’d had anyone to pleasure him, and—while he wasn’t adverse to masturbation—self-abuse hardly held a candle to the sensations of lips and tongues. Particularly as when as masterfully applied as James did. A wracking groan escaped him.

MmmmWet and hot, James’ mouth was seemingly all over him. First suckling his bollocks, then licking around his corona, then—most exciting—taking his full length into his throat. Rare was the Greek man who would suck cock—it was considered womanly, a sign of submission. Even rarer still had been one who could take him in his entirety.

Yet James had managed to bury his face into Christos’ crotch. He could hear the rasp of James’ breath through his nostrils, his mouth jammed with Christos’ manhood. He laid his hands on the dark hair, holding the young man in place as he penetrated his face. James’ throat pulsed, his lips and tongue massaging Christos, as he brought him closer and closer to climax.

As pleasurable as that release would be, Christos wanted intercourse. He wanted to feel the Englishman beneath him, to drive into that most intimate of regions.

Thanks for reading!

Be sure to check out the rest of the Seductive Studs and Sirens, then stop by the Slippery When Wet Blog Hop for a chance to win some fun prizes.

‘Til next time!

Slippery When Wet Blog Hop


Greetings, everybody!

If you’re a first-time visitor, thanks for coming! If you’re a regular, welcome back!

Given the hop’s title, I naturally thought about water when it came to picking a topic. But just plain water wouldn’t do, so something water-related… and sexy… seemed more in order. That, of course, led me to deciding to present an excerpt from Coxswain All The Way which appears in my most recent collection Sophomore Season. Now I couldn’t do a post with just an excerpt and some promo…

So, since Coxswain All The Way is about rowing and there’s nothing sexier than rowers—except naked rowers—I have to give a shout out to the Warwick University Boat Club‘s (UK) senior men, who for the fourth year are presenting their Naked Rowers Calendar!

Warwick's Naked Rowers

Click the photo to visit their shop for calendars, photos, even video! Proceeds benefit not only the Boat Club, but also go towards fighting bullying and homophobia! And for those that like some naked girls, the Women’s team has done their own this year as well.

Like the guys on Facebook, follow them on Twitter.

Now for a clip from Coxswain All The Way:

Derek just happened to be riding through Kentucky in the passenger seat of Kevin Patterson’s stripped-down van with seven hunky guys sleeping behind him. With only two seats in the van—one for the driver and another for a passenger, the team took turns in them. At night, since they were driving nonstop, the navigator’s job was to keep himself and the driver awake.

Derek felt lucky not only to be part of an outstanding team but also to be sitting next to Mac, talking about everything and nothing while the rest of the boat slept. MacIntyre Davidson Holbrook was a sight to behold. At six feet three and 210 pounds with short blond hair in tight small curls, he would give Adonis a run for his money—blue-green eyes and little hair on his body only added to his advantages. His chest looked shaved—all the better probably to show off his awesome definition. Since they weren’t in the same dorm, Derek had only seen him in the showers after a couple of regattas. If his lax uncut dick was any indicator, he had a hefty piece between his legs.

Still early spring, the weather cooled off at night; with heading south the rowers anticipated the warmer climate, and their clothes had changed accordingly. Mac wore cut-off sweats, a D&G tee-shirt with the sides ripped out and his ever-present Vans. Since Mac sat twenty feet away from Derek in the “engine room” (the four seats in the middle of the 60-foot-long boat), the coxswain hadn’t developed as close a relationship with the rower as he had with Jake, the crew’s stroke, who sat only two feet or so in front of him. In fact, he and Mac had seldom talked about anything but crew. The night wore on, and they grew more comfortable with more than just small talk. The conversation moved from general banter to deeper but still impersonal things to more personal topics.

It was inevitable they’d eventually talk about sex.

The conversation began as a detached, almost academic, discussion. When they did get more specific, Mac used the word person, as in “I was really attracted to this person” rather than “I was really attracted to this girl.” This peculiar usage piqued Derek’s interest—he often said the same thing. He wondered if Mac’s motivation was the same as his.

I have to find out. But how?

The conversation lulled, and Derek steered the topics back to high school sports. After hearing about Mac’s prowess as a wrestler, Derek related his accomplishments in swimming and water polo.

With his bona fides established, he told Mac how he’d always admired wrestlers, especially their muscle mass. “It’s like those statues the Greeks and Michelangelo made. God, I wish I could develop a body like that!”

“There’s nothing wrong with your body.” Mac noted, “You’ve just gotta realize most of it’s genetic. You’ve got that lean, muscular swimmer’s build most people would kill for.”

Heat crawled up Derek’s neck, and he opened his window a bit. “Thanks.” Emboldened by Mac’s level-headed response, he decided to go out on a limb. “One of my motives for getting involved with crew was—“Uncertainty stuck in his throat as he nudged closer to the edge, and he coughed. “Was to be able to admire—at close range—such specimens of male anatomy, like…” Then he jumped off, “Like you.”

Mac had been animated up until then, but now he stared at the oncoming road, silent and pensive.

Derek’s pulse pounded in his head. Did I blow it?

He stared straight ahead as well, watching the white lines run through the headlights and under the van. “Sorry if I offended you, Mac. I hope you don’t think…” Derek struggled to find the words to argue—convincingly—he wasn’t queer. Quickly he glanced at Mac.

Lit by the green instrument lights, the rower’s handsome profile pulled at something in Derek’s chest. Facing forward, Derek peripherally saw Mac’s hand creep toward his crotch. He risked another peek at him. For an instant their eyes met before Mac’s hand quickly returned to the wheel, leaving behind a tent in his sweats!

That was the green light Derek had been hoping for.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Derek shifted to face Mac, who when he heard the click looked over, his eyes wide and fearful. The rest of the boat slept on the floor behind them. Mac glanced at the rear-view mirror, terror at being discovered quivering along every lovely muscle.

“Take it easy, Mac,” Derek whispered. “They’re all asleep. You know we both want the same thing. I think you’re one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen and just want to make you feel good and have some fun at the same time.”

Squirming around, Derek knelt on the floor and reached across the engine cover toward his prize. Before grabbing it though, he decided to check out the rest of Mac. He stretched a hand into the loose top and ran his palm over Mac’s stomach. Silken skin covered the rower’s washboard abs. His fingers scaled that magnificent torso, eventually reaching his pecs. With an elbow resting against Mac’s cock, Derek’s fingers traced the sharp definition between his firm pecs and his abs. Mac inhaled sharply but maintained control of the van. On their pass across his chest, the wandering fingers touched his left nipple. He exhaled with a sigh. Small and hard, the nub was quite sensitive. A tentative index finger caressed the hard flesh, and the lump pressing against Derek’s elbow twitched and grew even larger.

After playing with the more accessible of Mac’s nipples, Derek ran my fingers down the valley between those pecs and, farther down, along his abs. Derek had to touch those chest muscles again. He reached up and placed his whole hand over Mac’s right pec, the nipple jabbing the middle of his palm. Hand pressed hard against the muscle, he rubbed in a slow, firm, swirling motion. With each circle he released a bit of the pressure until the palm barely grazed Mac’s aroused nipple.

Mac struggled to keep from jabbing the accelerator to the floor. He groaned, producing quiet little sounds of pleasure. Looking up at his chiseled features, illuminated by the faint dashboard lights, Derek trailed his hand down to Mac’s belly. The rower whispered, “My dick, dude, my dick. Take it out.”

Not one to wait for a second invitation, Derek pulled the drawstring on the sweats and untied them. That done, Mac used his free hand to pull his tee-shirt up over his head, baring his torso from throat to pubes. He raised himself off the seat a bit so Derek could pull down his pants for better access to an amazingly fat and long joystick. Nested in downy blond hair, Mac’s cock was a sight to behold. Derek gasped. Just looking at it, arched against that perfect stomach, was orgasm inducing.

Thanks for reading!

To enter the Giveaways, leave a comment below and let us know how you like to get wet!

A randomly selected comment will receive an e-format version of Sophomore Season. All comments with email addresses will be entered in the drawing. Leaving a comment also gets you an entry toward the Grand Prize—the hopper with the most entries from all sites on the Hop will receive a $50 Amazon gift card!

Stop next door for some Seductive Studs and then check out the other Slippery Bloggers:

‘Til next time!

Follow me

Hump Day Hook – 09 October 2013

Hump Day Hook

Greetings, everyone!

I know… long time no see! Lots of irons in the fire—edits, a mystery I’m plotting, plus the usual writer’s ADD. But it’s Hump Day… and time for some hooking!

I’m doing a little more from Seawrack today, so if you’d like to check out the first bit, click here.

Doctor Livingston had been gracious enough to provide him this reference—although Jesse suspected in his heart that the position was somehow less than desirable—yet he was grateful to have even such a thin opportunity for a new start in this damp, sodden town. Only his grandfather’s letter to Livingston, a colleague from Papa’s days in seminary, had secured him this small piece of fortune.

With a muttered prayer, he pushed aside his dark thoughts and knocked upon the great front door. The soggy morning air swallowed the small, dull sound, and Jesse wondered how anyone not immediately near the door would hear it.

Clipper_Ship_Southern_Cross_Leaving_Boston_Harbor_1851His belly rumbled. Ill with anxiety, he had broken his fast with nothing but half a biscuit and one or two sips of water. He’d not felt so sick since he had taken ship in Norfolk. Four days he’d been unable to eat, lying weak and nauseated in his cramped, smelly cabin. At least I’m not in prison.

He rapped again, fearing he might bruise his knuckles. This time the knock was answered by the sound of heels on hard wood. The door opened to reveal a tall, elegant older gentleman.


Jesse swallowed with difficulty, yet thrust his hand forward. “Good day, sir! I am Jesse Masterson. I’ve come for the position—Doctor Livingston sent me.”

The man eyed the outstretched hand, one brow eloquently arched. “Ah, yes, the tutor.” He stepped back. “Come in.”

Thanks for reading!

Be sure to check out the other Hookers here.

‘Til next time!