Seems like GOOD SEX and BAD BOYS both have a price…
An Excerpt from my sizzling erotic Novel, The Price of Dick…
There’s nothing comparable to the knowledge that someone has prepared himself sexually for you completely. It’s an adrenalin surge all by itself. It saves time. No tentative, awkward questions to get in the way or impede the momentum of the heat of first encounter passion. In most male minds, foreplay is a test to see how far one can go in an initial encounter. Later it’s just a delaying technique to slow the way to what needs to get done. For a man, knowledge is as good as foreplay.
This time when they kissed, Dick’s new knowledge set a fire ablaze. He was ready to take it all the way with no more pseudo-protestations.
My camera would be busy under a frantic finger for the next fifteen minutes. A thousand shots. Almost a full card.
Mouths melded in a forceful plunge, noises like souls drowning, then resuscitating as they returned to the surface for air. Gasps of oxygen. Fingers splayed in blurred fury undoing the drawstrings of the swimsuits. A loud smack of hard flesh hitting a belly. There was an exclamation at the size and girth and color of the object of worship. Its head was a royal purple. The sexual fever generated by the two bodies refreshed the chlorine from their pores. The smell filled the room
Mike’s appetite for his ‘straight’ conquest was more than hunger. It was starvation. His mouth opened over the erection not to taste, but to consume. He took him in inch-by-inch, python-like, relaxing so his jaw could stretch to accommodate the width. When he made it to the base, lips grazing the light brown pubic curls, Dick lolled backward into the sofa, at a loss for words; the open O of his mouth exposing his tongue. Hapless fingers found the boy’s dark scalp and clutched the hair as he began to work the huge cock in with suction and warm, wet saliva.
My palms sweated on the camera. I wiped them on my shorts where my own zipper protruded. I had to keep moving and shooting. Climbing up on furniture for a better, more creative shot. Crawling beneath them for an inventive angle. I always hurt like I’d run a marathon after a shoot. It was, in fact, an endurance test in many ways.
The facade of the immutable straight guy was quickly crumbling at the hands of the youth eager to please him. They resembled two mangled bodies sprawled on the sofa. Tan lines demarcated target areas. Large, hair-covered thighs had been pushed upward and out so the boy could suck his sac unobstructed. He stroked him in unison with his sucking, his grip white-knuckled. The suckee was looking more helpless by the moment as the boy expertly coaxed his pleasure from him. His moans were half-formed exclamations and curses.
The lifeguard stood up, and with a sudden determination, peeled himself from the red swimsuit. His dick sprung out from a cleanly shaven crotch as if startled. It jittered with anticipation against his soft, untanned lower belly. He wasn’t large, but long, boyish balls dangled beneath his erection.
The larger man looked up at the bare boy, appraising what was being offered. His cock jerked against him, spreading a web-thin string of pre-cum from itself to his navel like colorless taffy. “You have a gorgeous ass,” Dick said, a telling smile accompanying the words.
It was the concession the younger man was waiting for. Some form of mutual, if limited, attraction.
Dick realized he’d given away some of his power and meant to correct it. “I mean you don’t have a set of tits or a wet hole I can stick my tongue in, but those sweet cheeks… ain’t gonna lie…” That’s as far as he would go with a compliment. There was obviously not going to be any act of oral reciprocation.
I heard my own sexually charged rasps as I moved around them to take more photos. Being a photographer by trade necessitated being part voyeur. I was as aroused as they were.
“You ever fuck a guy?” Mike’s gaze was as direct as the question he asked.
The larger man shook his head. “Nope.”
The not-as-large hand reached into the drawer of one of the end tables and brought out the sealed, silver wrapper of a condom. He knew where I stored everything in the house. He opened it, deftly grabbed the hunk’s hunk, stroked it to assure its firmness, and then attempted to roll it over him. The prophylactic was too small. It barely made it an inch before the lack of dimension stopped him.
“Oops.” The remark came from the man below, rich with self-applause.

2 002 copy


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