Tonight was one of those nights that in the past few months Second Lieutenant Theodore Stevenson had come to describe as quiet: although when was it ever truly quiet on the Western Front? He could still hear the spasmodic rat-a-tat of distant machine gun fire; the occasional whoosh of a sniper's bullet; and the muffled screams of agony and despair from a lon...
"No shit? That's what you felt—or didn't feel?" Christophe and I were sitting out on the portside deck, under the overhanging of the bridge above us, and working on the gang bang story. "After about the fifth man, I plateaued out," I repeated. "Each successive dick didn't mean all that much—except perhaps for that Portuguese sailor. Every time he came arou...
Virginia had said it wanted the British and Hessian prisoners, but it wasn't fully prepared to receive them. When George Washington, the military commander for the colonialists, decided that Boston was just too close to where there were British troops in strength to be confident the large number of prisoners from the Battle of Saratoga wouldn't just be freed...
By dinner, Caiden was back to his old awkward self around Michel, second-guessing the feelings that he'd had and wondering if it was just a wham-bam-thank-you-sir kind of thing and Michel noticed it. He set down his chopsticks and stared at him. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." "Bullshit. You look guilty." The way Caiden turned his head convinced Michel that he...
Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content. * I admit I'm a bit of a slut, always cruising public toilets and using sex apps. I never get enough sex. I guess i take after my dad. He's a hell of a player. I know he sees women behind my mother's back, and I'm following in his footsteps... even with a boyfriend I'm getting my dick...
Was that really him I'd seen at the graveside, I wondered. It was more than a glimpse and he looked at me in recognition, but then Julio had taken my elbow so possessively, so intent on showing how close he was to Avis and me—or to me, at least. When I'd given him his moment of recognition, I looked back at where I was sure I'd seen David. But he was gone. I...
It was something of a coup, as a journalist, to get an interview with the ambassador of a Middle Eastern country. I had been working on it for months, putting out feelers and befriending staff. It was a bit like infiltrating the embassy, like a spy might do, but I wasn't troublemaker: I was in the business of demystifying things. That's what i do. I talk to...
In most senses Bran had been invisible at the Hayden saloon the couple of months he'd been there. But as he came out of the back room into the main saloon hall, carrying the bucket of water Levi Yost, the saloon keeper, had told him to use to freshen the bowls in the rooms upstairs, he looked at the tall Christmas tree in the corner. Sadie, Katie, and Faye w...
Usual disclaimers, we're all fictional and all over eighteen. In particular I did a Google search for Acme East Talent agency and they don't appear to exist. If one does then I can assure you that the one featured in this story is, like all the characters, purely fictional and any resemblance is purely coincidental. Secondly, this is a story about pony boys...
Emile LaCour was there for three nights in the basement strip club on Dauphine Street in the French Quarter, always sitting at the same table. Emile had picked the focus of his attention out on the first night—a lithe but well-muscled, dark Greek, displaying a mixture of danger and sassiness; much more into what he was doing than any of the other performers....