In order to satisfy those of more prurient interest ;-), I’ve continued following last week’s excerpt from Summer of History:
Undeterred by Ryan’s shifting posture, Scott focused his caresses on the sensitive flesh along the crack of Ryan’s ass. With a single finger he traced the whorls of hair that curled in and out of his lover’s butt. Moving slowly from side to side he drew a gentle line from the dimple at the base of his spine, along the curves of his cheeks, down to the wrinkled flesh behind his balls. Pausing only briefly to fondle Ryan’s sac, Scott’s finger retraced its path upward. All the while Scott slowly humped against Ryan’s flank.
Between the delicate touch on his ass, the unmistakable insistence on his thigh and the pressure of his own weight on his dick, Ryan’s body turned traitor. His cock engorged; tendrils of heat and physical craving worked their way into his brain, speeding his pulse and thickening his cock even more. And—damn it!—he knew that Scott would know; he had always been able to tell when Ryan was turned on. Indeed as if sensing Ryan’s arousal, Scott increased his attentions, probing more deeply with his fingers.
Groaning with both frustration and desire, Ryan gave in to the physical sensations.
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‘Til next time!
This week I’ve chosen a bit from a work in progress, Summer of History. Our hero, Dr. Ryan MacDonald, is an anthropologist who gets caught up in some unseemly doings while on a research sabbatical. This scene is before all hell breaks loose:
Coming awake in the darkness, Ryan glanced at the bedside table where the clock glowed greenly—3:20. What had woken him? He heard the nighttime sounds of the loft: distant rumbles from the switch yard, gurgles from the plumbing upstairs, hip-hop bass beats fading from some passing car. Then he identified it—the not so quiet sound of someone trying to be quiet; Scott was home.
Lying on his side and feigning sleep, he listened as Scott shuffled quietly into the bedroom. He felt movement as Scott brushed the mattress and caught a whiff of sandalwood and patchouli—he recognized Scott’s body wash—so he had showered at the school’s rec center. What did that mean? The mattress squelched softly as Scott climbed into the bed. Nestling in close, he fit his body to the curves of Ryan’s back and ass. Ryan felt damp hair against the nape of his neck. So he showered just before coming home.
Not wanting to fight, Ryan made drowsy mumbling noises to convey that he wasn’t waking up. Apparently taking those as encouragement, Scott softly stroked a hand down along Ryan’s side to his groin. Determined to resist Scott’s late-night, or rather early-morning, seduction, Ryan mumbled some more and shifted position away from the caressing fingers and onto his stomach. As usual, Scott had become aroused quickly, and his erection now pressed against Ryan’s left butt cheek.
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‘Til next time!