STRAIGHT GUYS READING GAY SEX

I’m sitting with my muse, Dirk and five of his college buddies (straight by definition) in a cool water hot tub because the rain  has fucked up a pool party given for his buddies who have spent their hard-earned money on my gay literature at his behest. The great thing about being with others who drink (I don’t) is you get to listen in on conversations that gradually, with more booze, become more liberated..although I would say these guys are far more liberal in their thinking than most that I knew in my schooldays ..way back when. I am a listener because I’m fascinated about how people react to my work. In my head I tend to visualize it much different than others…so hearing their viewpoints fascinates me. There is no doubt that these guys have a favorite of my books.. the Science-Fiction one, Xperiment. Most have read several but this one is by far the one they like to discuss more. I suspect that’s because they grew up in an age of superhero and monster movies and I have pretty much combined the two for an epic-sized book with gay MC’s… Something new to them… superhero-gay-monsters. They tend to discuss the science-fiction aspects of the book more than the gay aspects…but it’s not because, I found out, the gay parts bother them at all. How do I know this? Dirk, always brazen, brought that subject up.

“Did the gay parts fuck up the story for you any?” he asks.. just like that as he passes more beer around the circle of us, rib-deep in cool bubbles.

Tom, his closest friend in this group, is first to answer.”Every one acts like straight guys don’t understand gay shit. We watch porn all the time. There are guys in straight porn. If you don’t think we’re not watching the guys in porn and getting off to them then you gotta think we’re all aliens or something? Women don’t fuck themselves. You gotta have dicks to see fucking. So yeah. we’re watching dicks and getting off to them.”

The others nod and agree.

Another, a newer addition to the group named Art, agrees. “Most guys I know have their first sexual experiences with other guys. It might not have to do with preference as much as what’s available or how curious we are, but I bet most everyone who’s gotten off for the first time has done it with a buddy.”

More nods. More agreement. I am enthralled with this conversation because to me it represents a new era in sexual enlightenment that just did not exist when I was their age.

“How did you feel about reading the gay sex parts of the book?” My question this time; me asking.

It’s Marty who laughs the loudest this time. I’ve met Wayne several times and Skyped with him from Dirk’s room. He’s an average guy, has his hair scooped and moussed up into that point in the center of his scalp most of the time. I find he has a great sense of humor and can tolerate Dirk’s hyperactivity better than others. When he gets too much of it he simply looks at him and says, “Settle, dude.” He says it a lot. But he’s laughed the loudest and I asked why.

“Because sex in a book is like a popcorn break at the movies.You get all this crazy intense stuff that makes you all nervous and uptight so you run to get some popcorn to bring it all back down to normal. Sex is the part where ya say…see…we’re all human.”

Dirk again:”Do you find the gay sex a turn on or a turn off?”

The whole circle laughs at this. “When is sex a TURN-OFF, dude?” It’s Marty again.”Everybody gets off on reading about people getting off.”

I have to admit I feel a little relief at this because I was curious, but really didn’t have the balls to ask. These guys really liked the book and I was hesitant to hear if the gay sex had dragged them out of their, otherwise, enjoyment of  it.

“What part did you think was the hottest?” Dirk again. (And he’s really enjoying this a bit more than me because his grin is as close to salacious as you can get without him actually engaged in something overtly obscene.)

Five out of five have just named the same scene from the book… the CHAMELEON Scene from early in the novel. I am surprised. I completely expected them to say something else. I ask what in particular in that scene affected them more than some others in the book.. (There is a scene in a sex club in this book I totally thought would be the one they picked.)

“Because we’re all deviants, dude. We all wanna sneak in and see what other people do. That’s human nature.”

So it’s the human part of my monsters that these guys relate to…and I like that…

And so without further ado and for your own prurient enjoyment, here is that scene from my sci-fi novel, XPERIMENT.

EXCERPT:

How he suddenly moved from the afternoon sunlight to the evening lights of the city and to the fire escape outside his bedroom was a mystery that could only occur in dreams.  Phantasms didn’t need transition scenes. The gauze had dissolved to a crystal clear view. This wasn’t a scene from any recent memory. The dream had a life of its own as dreams often do. He was standing in the shadows staring down the street as the bobbing lights of car approached. They swayed, traveling haphazardly over the yellow line dividing the lanes. Thankfully there was no oncoming traffic. The driver surely was intoxicated. As the car came nearer he recognized Shane’s battered Cruiser. The Pizza advertisement on top had been turned off. He pulled the car in front of his apartment and parked.

Shane emerged head first nearly tumbling out of the vehicle. He caught himself at the last moment steadying to an upright position by gripping the door. Staggering to the entrance of his building he fought with his keys eventually finding the one that let him in. The door opened unexpectedly taking him in with it. He’d fallen straight to the floor. A moment or two of recovery and cursing, he pulled himself back to his feet and kicked the door shut.

A weak light came on illuminating the window of his apartment.  From his downward view into the window Geoff could see the unmade sheets atop the mattress on the floor. A pair of jeans was wrapped in the tangled mess on the bed.

His curiosity was piqued and the voyeur in him couldn’t be satisfied by merely spying outside the window. He had to get closer. He wanted to see more. Like a stalker it was the insatiable desire to know the dirty little secrets and private idiosyncrasies of their interest that drove one to unpredictable behavior.

In a graceful leap, he bounded from the fire escape to the street stories below, landing with a spectacular and sturdy crouch a gymnast would have envied. It was only then as he looked at the taut muscles of his thighs he realized he was naked and wet. The light made his skin seem luminescent.  A quick check around himself shown the street was deserted. He was alone in the night.

His eyes zeroed in on his target: the light of Shane’s bedroom window. Bare feet stealthily made their way across the street. The front window was too exposed, but the one on the side in the alley was concealed. It was also higher and had access to a fire escape. He hoisted himself up quietly onto the grate flooring. Luckily, Shane had left the window open, curtains parted. He could see into the entire apartment.

This was salacious fun, he found himself thinking. Dreams possessed the power to do the naughty things that discretion thwarted. He imagined himself to be shadows painted on walls, skin camouflaging with his surroundings. And no sooner than he thought this, the tint of his flesh changed becoming a perfect blend of ebony and grays that could conceal him in dark corners. Light could no longer find or touch him. He was there and not there, sliding with the chimerical grace of smoke over the window sill and into the room like a living ghost.

Shane was in the shower, the door to the bathroom ajar. In the feeble light of the small room the naked form of the young man moved past the old, water-rusted plastic curtain.

He took in the surroundings. The room was large, an efficiency apartment: kitchen, bedroom and dining room all contained within the one open space. Shane, however, had made no effort to delineate partitions for what furniture belonged where. Everything was jumbled together. The kitchen table with its one chair was pressed up against the wall a few feet from his mattress. It was loaded with dirty dishes, half eaten T.V. dinners and pizza boxes from his place of employment. An old sofa with worn cushions sprouting pitted yellow foam was next to the door. A coffee table had been disguised under a pyramid of empty beer cans. Dirty clothes were thrown in a corner. The dresser was cluttered with all the typical male accessories: watches, condoms, cheap rings, and several pairs of sunglasses.  The mattress, besides being buried in the twist of sheets and clothes, also had a brimming ashtray,  pack of cigarettes and a laptop half under the pillows. Wadded empty cigarette packages lay on the side of the bed near the one lamp providing the room’s light. A bong in the shape of a Polynesian God, a box of tissues and hand lotion were next to this.

It was on the very rumpled bed on the floor, Geoff imagined, that Shane had a storm-filled night of lovemaking with the beautiful, dark-haired Danny.  He envisioned their lips pressed together in alcohol and cigarette-flavored kisses, baring themselves to each other, mingling in sweat and other delicious fluids.

With a tinny rattle of rungs, the shower curtain pulled back; the signal for him to meld with a corner of the room. Leaning flat against the surface of the wall, he disappeared into his bland, grease-stained surface. Shane exited the bathroom looking refreshed and less intoxicated. A worn terrycloth towel wrapped his small waist. His hair, wet and darker-looking, was brushed backwards exposing the squared angles of his face. His attention was on the black cellphone in his hands, thumbs tapping out a text message as he made his way to the mattress, kicking things out of his path along the way. He paused midway peering suspiciously around the room as if he’d sensed Geoff’s presence. Inquisitive eyes passed over the corner where he hid, but didn’t linger. Satisfied, he continued to the mattress and sat. Tanned, hairy legs parted just enough to taunt Geoff with what remained hidden.

Dreams were the playground of everyone’s hidden inner voyeur, he mused. Who hasn’t imagined what secret things they would look in on if they were invisible?  The fascination to see what others shielded from the world was powerful, and that knowledge wasn’t just power, it was another form of pleasure.

Shane made several calls looking for company. The wrinkles etched in his face said he’d had no luck.  Exasperated, he tossed the phone to the side, flopping belly-down on the bed.  He grabbed and lit a cigarette then opened his laptop. The screen bloomed.

From his viewpoint Geoff admired the lines of Shane’s body: the two round mounds beneath the towel. His back had a subtle arch accentuating the firm cheeks. The shoulders weren’t broad but lean and muscular. The hair in his pits and legs was a shade darker than that of his scalp. He had nice feet that moved nervously as he checked his email, and then finally some porn. Exactly what Geoff had hoped for: a private show.

He was an impatient porn peruser, quickly pulling up video selections, watching a portion then moving to the next. Not finding what suited his whim appeared to agitate him.  He shifted position, uncinching his towel, he rubbed his feet together and spread his legs affording Geoff the first glimpse of his genitalia. He had long, fleshy balls. Pushing his dick under these revealed he was uncircumcised , the head peaking from its soft sheath in half arousal.

When, at last, he found a video to his liking, his buttocks pinched in anticipation. HIs legs spread wider. He wasn’t one of those who watched porn “for the story”.  He fast forwarded through talking sections right to the action, even skipping foreplay.

Growing more excited in anticipation of the show, he wanted a clearer view of the action to come.  He slid silently along the wall like a dark curtain to a position nearer the side of the bed where he could enjoy the full length of Shane. From this vantage he could also see the computer screen.

His choices indicated he was into “jocks”, both the athlete and the supporter they wore. The chosen video had an assortment of guys fitting this category in a cheap studio with a fictitious fraternity banner hanging in the background. Unlike real fraternities, this one didn’t have an average “Joe” among them. No stoners, unshaven, typical college boys with a hint of a beer gut – just good-looking guys in peak physical condition. In spite of the lack of realism, the video had its desired effect on Shane. Hips shifted, butt lifted as he tucked a hand beneath to grasp himself.

On the screen a blond with a crew-cut was laid back on a table, shaved legs hiked up over another’s shoulderpads as his ass was being eaten. It was a resplendent ass, though hairless and with a noticeable tan outline of a speedo. Another “brother” in a pristinely ironed football jersey and brand new jock strap plied the thick, hard dick with a more than eager and well-practiced mouth. Shane grinned appreciatively, a remnant of drunken gleam still in his eyes. Pulling himself free of the towel, he pushed his buttocks higher, cheeks parting.  A thin rivulet of perspiration trickled down the firm mounds into the curling dark hair between them. Geoff preferred Shane’s unshaven ass better than those in the film he watched. It was more real. The higher he hoisted his butt the easier it was to view the impressive dangling hairy ball sacks. They were a spectacular sight. He was nicely endowed.

He sat, tucking his legs under himself, steadying himself on an arm. Geoff thought this made him resemble a seductive Renaissance sculpture. Nimble fingers toyed with the hard bow of flesh, pulling its uncut sheath back to reveal a perfect tulip bulb head, shiny red and engorged with blood. Geoff loved every moment of the show.  Dreams like this were rare, most lacking details and seeming fragmented.  In this one he could see everything from the thin arrow of dark-blond hair pointing down Shane’s stomach into his untrimmed proliferation of pubes, to the diamond bright drops of pre-cum popping and stringing from his dick to his fingers as he stroked himself. The bestial beat of sexual hunger felt more real than imagined in this dream.

Cautiously, he crept closer, skirting the boundary of weak light. Shane’s nude outline was enticing him nearer: the heaving chest, the slight shimmy of muscular ass cheeks. He wanted to relish every square inch and movement of that naked body as if it were a spectator sport.

Leaning to the side of the mattress and from between it and the box springs, he retrieved something that had been hidden –  sleek and black, twelve inches in length, it shone in the lamplight like a prized trophy. In a moment of indulgence, Shane closed his eyes and rubbed it across his lips. A pointed slip of tongue flicked over the smooth tip.  Whatever he was thinking produced an anticipatory reflexive response as his ass cheeks parted.

It was a captivating sight, more stimulating than the rehearsed moans and overly-dramatic gesticulations of the performed sex acts, as Shane’s mouth opened and he slowly pumped the dildo deep into his throat and luxuriously sucked it. His dick snapped upward and straight. Geoff’s pulse quickened imagining golden-boy Danny prone and at the mercy of that majestic mouth.

With more than familiar ease, Shane lifted his hips high as he reached around with the toy, tugged a white cheek to the side and teased the black tip near its pink target. He gingerly skewered it, pushing slowly and sensuously against the pliable entrance. At last he coaxed it into himself half an inch at a time. His back arched as he moaned rapturously, his body responding in a succession of shudders.  The blond hair on his chest highlighted his copper, coin-sized nipples as their tips became rigid.

Geoff had hardened similarly. There was more heartbeat below his waist than in his chest. He’d never experienced this much lucid sensation in a dream.

Shane chewed his bottom lip as the thrusts began to find an erotic tempo. He matched the pace with his masturbatory strokes. The rhythm conjured a visual articulation of a machine, piston-driven by desire.  Perspiration dotted his spine, his flesh glowed feverishly with heat as the small butt rose and fell on the black sex toy. His climax was close. Eyes rolled backward and with a prizefighters grunt for a winning punch, a projectile of thick white spurted from him, launching across the mattress to make a shining pool on a dingy pillowcase. Two more liquid bullets shot closer onto the bundled sheets.

There was nothing more beautiful than seeing a man lose himself in orgasm. Indescribable art, Geoff mused – a portrait of pleasure.  He was close to a climax himself, as if he was sharing the moment with Shane; a secret, mutual bond.

As Shane collapsed a sweaty, spent mess on the bed, Geoff came. He never remembered being able to do that in a dream before, but he came and it was mind-splintering magnificent.

Book link: https://www.amazon.com/Xperiment-Dan-Skinner-ebook/dp/B019UUUTY2/

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