Emile had just been renewed, and he was back outside a gay bar on Bourbon Street at 2 A.M. during Mardi Gras, not a bit out of place draped in his black silk cape, watching the entrance to the bar. He only had four days to pull this plan off. But if he did, he would be solving two problems. He was on entirely new territory, however; he had never tried anythi...
The following account of late 19th century sexual torment was taken from the journal of Daniel Nickels, the Captain of the brig Waccamaw during the Civil War. The journal was discovered hidden behind a wall during recent renovations at the Bellaire Plantation in Savannah, Georgia, where the Captain lived after the war. I surveyed the chamber for the upcomi...
The drive home from the pool was a very scenic one. I took Matt along a quieter back road, one that ran the span of the river near my home. It gave us more time to relax and unwind. There were no traffic lights, just large expanses of farms, workers in the fields and a few summer cyclists and walkers along the banks. The roof was down, the wind rushed thro...
I had always been curious, but much too engrained in the straight guy perception of all things gay. The gay community was all hairdressers and limp wristed wimp types. Perhaps it was my protection against my curiosity, I was not at all like that so I must be 100% straight. I ignored the obvious signs that did not fit the image. The fact that my first wank w...
"I don't right think he'll last the night, Massa. Land, I don't know what's taken' away the cream of our young men on this plantation." "Leave me with him, Elvie. I'll see if I can give him some peace." He watched until the woman had left the hut and then went over and silently shot home the bolt on the door. Returning to the pallet that took up much of th...
Judge Thomas Oakley slowed the car as he crossed Martin Luther Key Street on St. Catherine where it turned into Jefferson. He often slowed down here, in passing the King's Tavern Lounge—although he'd never gotten up the gumption to go in there. It was too close to home and he was too well known. When he wanted that scene, he didn't go anywhere here in Natche...
Ham LeMoynes couldn't sleep, and he thought he heard a noise from downstairs. Probably only one of the many ghosts haunting this old, rotting mansion, he thought. But, still, he was fully awake now. He rose off the cot he'd set up in his room until after everything was packed out and padded down the stairs into the music room. He was barefoot, only wearing h...
The following account of late 19th century sexual torment was taken from the journal of Daniel Nickels, the Captain of the brig Waccamaw during the Civil War. The journal was discovered hidden behind a wall during recent renovations at the Bellaire Plantation in Savannah, Georgia, where the Captain lived after the war. As I listened to the tormentors in...
The riverboat hit a log, or something, on the hull right at my head, and I woke with a start. The first sensation in the soft, wavering light of a single lantern hung by the doorway was the sound of the drums and low chanting from somewhere above. The driver and cook at it again. The sound was monotonous and comforting all at the same time. It also seemed...
"Oui, Oui! Baise-moi! Baise-moi!—Yes, yes, fuck me! Comme ça! Plus profound!—Like that. Deeper." I lay on the plastic sheeting on the hotel room bed, my hands gripping the brass rungs of the headboard overhead, my eyes wide, focused on the suddenly cruel smile on the face of the French businessman sitting next to me on the bed. The ceiling fan in the hot Ni...