by DHP Authors
“What do you think I am, a damn fairy godmother or something? They’re not real anyhow.”
“Are you real?”
“Open your pants and find out.”
Seamus wouldn’t drop his drawers in front of Woody, but he hurried back to the bed-and-breakfast after a quick “Thank you” and did his self-exam there. My God! It was no hoax! The leprechaun was for real!
He didn’t even wait till he got home to call Todd. He called him from Ireland. “I’m overseas. I needed a vacation after we broke up. I came back to Ireland. Listen, you won’t believe this. I get home late tomorrow, so come over Monday night. I have something you’ll want to see. No, it’s no joke. I’m serious, dude. No, I can’t tell you. You have to see for yourself. Otherwise you’ll think I’m drunk or daft.”
Aboard the plane, Seamus tried to will it to fly faster. Not that that would get Todd in his arms and his bed any sooner. They’d made a date for six o’clock Monday evening. But Seamus was impatient all the same.
As for Todd, he was totally incredulous when Seamus lowered his pants. Instead of the former monster, he saw a beautifully shaped dick, absolutely normal in size. “I didn’t know they did plastic surgery on cocks,” he said.
“It wasn’t plastic surgery. Do you think I could’ve healed that fast? Examine it—there’s not a stitch or a scar on it.”
“If not plastic surgery then what?”
“You won’t believe me. A leprechaun granted me one wish.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe you.”
“Do you believe this?” Seamus asked grabbing his dick and waving it at Todd. “If you don’t believe it now, you will when it slides inside you, nice and easy and painless.”
“I want to suck it, too. I don’t care how you got it down to that size. I just want to experience it,” Todd said, adding, “in every hole.”
But, eager as he was, he took it slow and made it last. He started by enveloping Seamus’s ballsac in his mouth. Licking the wrinkled sac as he sucked on it, he elicited a series of moans from Seamus that came from somewhere way deep in his soul.
From his balls Todd proceeded up to the base of Seamus’s now-much-smaller shaft, tonguing the lower part of his still respectably thick, vein-ringed organ. As his tongue circled around the base of Seamus’s cock, Seamus cupped Todd’s balls with one hand and carefully, gently squeezed them. As Seamus manhandled Todd’s balls, Todd licked the base of his shaft.
Todd continued sucking, this time approaching Seamus’s shaft sideways and encompassing it in his warm mouth. Holding it that way, Todd worked his way up and down the shaft. His dick was leaking serious quantities of pre-cum.
Now Todd licked Seamus’s thighs, making him squirm in heat and need and frustration. He wanted Todd’s attention back on his dick! Todd grazed the insides of Seamus’s thighs just below his balls, his teeth nipping playfully at the soft skin and pulling at the small hairs he found there.
“Stop teasing me!” Seamus implored.
Todd closed his mouth around the sloping helmet of Seamus’s dick, just below the flange, and exhaled, letting a warm stream of humid breath surround it and bathe him in sensations. Seamus started squirming and humping insistently. Chuckling at his eagerness, Todd proceeded to take more and more and more of his thick cock into his mouth.
Seamus squealed as he felt Todd’s lips descend his column. Todd moaned too as Seamus’s vein-ringed shaft entered his mouth and filled it without choking him, stretching his jaws uncomfortably wide, or otherwise feeling unpleasant. Reaching the base of Seamus’s dick, Todd sucked hard, then relaxed his suction, then increased the suction again. Finally he had to come up for air, but as he worked his way up the no-longer-unmanageable shaft he trilled his tongue along the underside, adding to the sensations that raced through Seamus’s body.
Taking a gulp of air, Todd began to descend the fleshy column again. It was hard as granite and swollen fat like the Goodyear blimp, but it fit within the confines of his mouth. There was hardly a half-inch of room to spare, but Todd was able to get the dickhead down his throat and massage it with the muscles there.
Apparently Todd was seriously turned on by sucking Seamus’s dick, as he now began rubbing his own cock. Still he worked up and down Seamus’s hard-on, sucking and slurping, massaging it with his rippling throat muscles. As he did, he continued to use one hand on his own dick.
Reassured that he was now just the right size for Todd and no longer more than he could handle, Seamus began scrunching his hips back and forth, fucking Todd’s mouth, ratcheting in and out, and driving that dick deep down Todd’s gullet. As he fucked the man he thought he had lost but now had back in his bed and his life, his motions grew so urgent that his dick at times slipped out of Todd’s mouth.
He knew Todd could feel the depth of his need. His entire body was tense, taut, tight. He was straining to orgasm and racing quickly toward that goal. Yet as he looked down at Todd, blissed-out as he sucked Seamus’s dick, a warmth of emotion beyond mere sexual heat suffused his body. This had to do with his heart, not his groin.
But his groin was sending him signals too. He felt his balls draw up to fire, and he knew that Todd, who was rhythmically squeezing his balls with one hand, felt it too. In a minute he fired off a volley of cum, delivering his load to Todd’s eager mouth. Finally spent, Seamus withdrew so Todd could swallow.
“Now get me hard again and I’ll fuck you good and proper,” Seamus said with a growl.
Todd seemed only too happy to do so, and with remarkable recuperative powers, Seamus was up stiff and ready again in no time. Rolling on a condom, he coated it with lube and then greased up Todd’s hole. But he hardly needed the lube. Unlike their previous attempts, this time his cockhead breached the sphincter-guarded entrance readily, and his cock was quickly buried to the hilt inside Todd. The moan that escaped Todd’s lips was, this time, not one of pain.
“Fuck me hard. I can take it now,” Todd said urgently. Seamus drove deeply in and out, delighting both himself and Todd with his wicked thrusts up into Todd’s molten core.
Seamus drove his dick eagerly, excitedly in and out of Todd’s passage, spreading the walls as he ratcheted in and out. He plunged deep, retracted till just the dickhead was left inside Todd, then thrust deep again. At no time did Todd complain that it was too large or that he was hurting. He emitted quite a lot of moans, but they were all moans of pure pleasure, of heat, of need. There wasn’t a complaint among them.
While Seamus relentlessly fucked Todd, Todd humped back and forth beneath him. Although he no longer had a hand on his own dick, it was obvious that he was very hot and nearly ready to get off himself. He was panting, sweating all over, groaning, and babbling incoherently about his need to come.
With a wild groan, Seamus plunged into Todd one last time, slamming his body down on top of Todd’s body, and stayed on top of him as his cum flooded the condom.
Todd hadn’t come yet, though.
“Give me that thing,” Seamus said, falling to the bed next to Todd and rolling over onto his back. Todd straddled his chest and fed him his dick. Seamus gulped the swollen organ into his mouth, but he had barely begun to suck before Todd exploded in a shower of semen down his throat.
“Now tell me how you really reduced your dick size,” Todd begged as he lay down beside Seamus and threw one leg across Seamus’s thighs.
“I did tell you. No shit. It was a leprechaun named Woody. He said I could have one wish—anything but wealth or eternal life. Well, that was a no-brainer. I wanted you back, but on terms you would be comfortable with—and that meant my having a smaller dick. So that’s what I wished for.”
“You really expect me to believe in leprechauns?” Todd asked disbelievingly.
“Is my dick smaller?”
“Hell, yes!”
“Do you see any surgical scars, stitches, or other evidence of a medical procedure?”
Todd had to admit he didn’t. “I�
�d better buy a round-trip to Ireland,” he said.
“Why? What do you want to do? Is there something you want to wish for?”
“No, but I want to say a big ‘Thank you’ to a certain leprechaun.”
“I’m coming with you. I want to thank him myself.”
In fact, Seamus thought as he drifted off into a contented sleep, he was sure he and Todd would be doing many things together from now on. Now that his dick size was no longer an obstacle, he was sure they would be mated for life.
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
SHANNON WEST
A typical day on the I-285 in Atlanta--traffic was horrible, and bound to get worse as the day progressed. It was just the nature of the beast. Officer Patrick Malone shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the hot leather sticking to his sweaty pants and further adding to his misery. It was a sweltering day in July, and his air conditioning had gone out over an hour before. He’d been on his way back to the station to swap out the car when he got the call from his sergeant to pick up and transport a prisoner to the jail.
He’d heard the radio chatter earlier about a pawn shop heist over on the north side, but he’d been out on a traffic stop at the time and hadn’t paid much attention. Apparently, the detectives wanted the guy brought in right away, and the arresting officer had another urgent call. It was the week of the fourth, and they were even more shorthanded than usual.
Patrick sighed, pressed the button on the mike clipped to his shoulder and whined a little. “Uh, Sergeant, I was on my way back to the station to get another unit. This one has mechanical problems.”
The radio crackled ominously in his ear. Sergeant Adam was not the most pleasant of individuals at the best of times. “Is the motor running?”
“Yes, Sergeant, but…”
“If it’s still running, then go over there and pick up the prisoner, Malone. You can get a new unit after you drop him off.”
“Ten-four, I’m en route.” Patrick said, trying hard to keep the irritation out of his voice. He hated this fucking job, and had since the moment he’d started training. He’d always known it wasn’t for him, but his father and his grandfather and two of his brothers were police officers, and it was a given that he’d be one too. No choice, really. That didn’t prevent him from hating every second of it though.
The job itself wasn’t what he hated so much—he liked putting away the bad guys. But there was something inherently wrong about hiding in tucked away places to catch motorists on their way home from a hard day’s work to give them a ticket, because they might have rolled over a white line on the road at a stop sign or they might have been going a little over the speed limit. That part of the job he despised. And this whole “brotherhood” thing with other cops, he certainly didn’t get. Not when the vast majority of them were homophobic assholes, in his opinion.
Patrick had known he was gay for as long as he could remember. He’d known it was something shameful from the first time he wanted to play Barbie with his little sister and he’d licked the Ken doll. His mother had been so horrified, she’d jerked him up and slapped his bare thigh, hard enough to leave a red mark that hadn’t gone away for days. It was his badge of shame, and he’d never forgotten it. She’d yelled at him that little boys played with guns and trucks, not dolls.
Only four years old, he’d spent the rest of that morning in the corner, feeling scared and mortified, sure that there was something badly wrong with him. From that moment on, he’d had a secret that he couldn’t share with anyone. And even now—at the ripe old age of forty three, he was still firmly in the closet and probably always would be. He couldn’t even imagine telling his family, because he knew without a shadow of a doubt what kind of reception that news would get. Occasionally, he would sneak off to a club for a night of stolen relief, but those times were getting fewer and farther between as he got older and less attractive. No, he may as well face it. Life had passed him by, and he knew he would never get his happy ever after.
It was why he no longer allowed himself to get really drunk. The last time he did, he spent a long time gazing at his service revolver until he finally just went to bed. The gun was still an option, of course, and becoming harder to resist all the time.
Shaking off his melancholy, he pulled up in front of the pawn shop behind the other blue lights already parked outside and levered himself out of the front seat. Christ, he’d put on twenty pounds in the last ten years. The sedentary nature of much of the job, riding around in a patrol car all day, plus the free coffees and doughnuts practically pushed on him by every convenience store clerk in his sector had combined to pack on the weight. He adjusted the waistband on his too-tight pants with his thumbs and went inside the store to find the arresting officer. It was a guy he knew fairly well, another big bellied cop named Morrison, and he filled Patrick in quickly.
The thief was named Sean O’Grady and he was cooling his heels in the back storeroom at the present time. The store owners said he’d come in earlier insisting on seeing the manager. When the manager arrived he’d loudly proclaimed that some of the gold jewelry in the case had been stolen from him, but he couldn’t produce a police report. When the manager offered to call the police and have it checked out, he became belligerent and simply grabbed the jewelry and left with it. The manager and his employees had chased him down and held him while they called the police.
Patrick nodded as he took the arresting officer’s report, already half bored by the story. At least the pawn shop was air conditioned, so he had a chance to cool off a bit. After handing over the report, Morrison jerked his head toward the back of the store. “He’s all yours.” Keying his mike and telling dispatch he was on his way, Morrison headed out the front door, and Patrick went to the back to pick up his prisoner.
The man had his back to him when he first walked in, but when he heard the sound of the door opening, he turned around, and that’s when Patrick was stopped in his tracks—literally frozen in the doorway. In a city the size of Atlanta, there must have been better looking men—men whose eyes were bluer, who had better bodies, and whose hair was silkier and a more beautiful shade of russet red. Patrick had just never seen any.
This man who’d turned to look at him—Sean O’Grady—was simply the most gorgeous creature Patrick had ever seen. He tilted his head when he spotted Patrick and gave him a sweet, seductive smile.
“Hello there, officer,” he said. “So they sent me a new one.”
“Hmm? Oh yes, the other officer had to go on a call, so I’m transporting you to jail.”
The handsome face got a stubborn look, though his tone was still pleasant enough. “This is a travesty of justice, you know. I’ve done nothin’ wrong. I merely came to collect me own property, which the proprietor of this establishment should never have purchased in the first damn place! The man he got it from was a stinkin’ thief!”
Patrick noticed a sexy accent—really, everything about the man was hot as hell—and went over to stand in front of him. “Are you from England?” he asked.
“Faith and begorrah, no!” The gorgeous man gave him an affronted look. “I’m from Ireland, a ‘course.”
“Oh, sorry.” He put a hand under his elbow to help him to his feet and got a tingle all the way up to his shoulder. O’Grady must have felt it too, because he slanted a glance over at Patrick.
“What’s yer name, then, lad?”
“I’m Officer Malone.”
“Oh, an Irishman yerself, then.”
“No, not really,” Patrick said self-consciously. O’Grady was on his feet now and towered over Patrick by at least three inches. His buff body made Patrick feel terribly inadequate. He was a little harsher than he meant to be then, when he yanked O’Grady’s arm. Overbalancing, O’Grady fell into him and Patrick put up his arms to catch him. The almost overpowering scent of the man was the first thing to strike Patrick as O’Grady leaned against his chest. He smelled of whiskey and spicy pipe tobacco, with the sweet u
nderlying odor of the outdoors and green growing things. He looked up from under thick eyelashes, his mouth only inches away, and Patrick could barely catch his breath.
To cover, Patrick made his voice rough and rasping. “Enough small talk. I need to take you to jail.”
“Easy boyo. I’m comin’,” Patrick said, his voice low and captivating. “And maybe while we’re on the way to this jail of yers we can strike a wee bargain. Just a little deal among friends.”
Patrick’s cock had thickened so rapidly at the sound of O’Grady’s voice in his ear, and that teasing scent in his nostrils, he wasn’t sure he could walk properly, but he cleared his throat and managed a gruff, “Whatever.”
Patrick led O’Grady from the back room, passing the proprietor on the way and O’Grady gave the man a furious glare. “May the devil cut the head offa you and make a day’s work of yer neck,” he shouted at the man as Patrick gave his arm a tug.
Lips twitching, Patrick pulled him toward the door. “Come on, Mr. O’Grady. Let’s get you out of here.” Glancing back at the shop owner, Patrick said, “Sorry sir. The detectives will be in touch with you.”
O’Grady wasn’t finished however. As they went toward the front of the store, he shouted one parting shot over his shoulder. “May yer obituary be written in weasel's piss!”
Patrick got O’Grady to the police vehicle and opened the back door to help him in. He grinned over at him. “Did you seriously just curse him with weasel piss?”
O’Grady lifted one shoulder and gave him a wicked little grin. “Maybe. Me mam always said I had the devil’s own temper.” He gave Patrick a smoldering look up and down and then deliberately winked at him. “You have a nice smile, Officer. Has no one ever told you how handsome you are when you do?”
Shocked, Patrick stared at him. O’Grady’s blue eyes seemed to glow at him for a moment, and Patrick had a hard time looking away. He felt the heat rush to his cheeks, and he shoved O’Grady a little harder than he meant to into the back seat. “Watch your head,” he said and closed the door after him.