“Be careful.”
I slid off the bed, holding Brad’s shoulders until my legs were stable under me—until the shooting pains had stopped searing my spine; then I searched for the gun. It was still on the floor where it had fallen in the scuffle. I picked it up and pointed it at its owner. “Take his gag off.”
Reluctantly, Brad untied the towel and pulled a wad of material out of the cop’s mouth—my shorts.
“Go ahead,” the cop said. “Pull the fucking trigger.”
I shook my head. “I really don’t want to be a cop-killer—even though I’m sure I’d be justified. Justifiable homicide, isn’t that…?”
“Oh, shit.” the cop spat. “You couldn’t kill a fucking mosquito with that. Pull the fucking trigger and see.”
“Don’t do it,” Brad said. “It’s some kind of trick.”
“Its no trick. They’re fuckin’ blanks. Go ahead, pull the trigger, blow my balls off.”
“Yes, Master.” I said, pointing the gun at his testicles and pulling the trigger.
He flinched as the trigger clicked—but nothing happened to his balls.
He took a deep breath. “They’re all spent,” he said. “You don’t have to call anyone. Nobody got hurt. We had our fun. Now, untie me and let me go home.”
“It was a game, wasn’t it?” I asked.
“Of course it was.”
“Just a game. You scare the shit out of somebody, you make somebody think you’re going to kill them—and it’s just a game?”
He nodded wearily.
I explained to Brad: “He hangs out by the leather bars and waits for someone he can hassle—I made a U-turn—then lets them think they can fuck their way out of a ticket. He goes home with them, ties them up, scares the shit out of them, rapes them—and then they wake up in the morning with the good officer’s cold cum all over their bellies.” I leaned over and asked him “Does that about cover it?”
He closed his eyes and nodded.
“Well, he fooled me.” Brad said.
“Okay?” the cop asked. “Will you unlock these things now?”
Brad looked at me; I shook my head. “Ask us nicely,” I said.
“Come on, for Christ’s sake. We’ve had our fun….”
“No.” I said sharply. “You had your fun. Now we are gonna have ours.”
“Wait.” Brad jumped up and hurried into the front room, then returned with a paper lunch bag. “This,” he told me, “is why I went out tonight. It was for your birthday next week, but we can open your present early—if you want to.” He extracted a baggie of marijuana. There were several already-rolled joints in the bag. He took one out and lit it. “Sit on him,” he told me. He took a deep drag.
I sat on the man’s crotch and watched as Brad bent over, took his face firmly between his hands, and kissed him, blowing the smoke into his mouth. To my surprise, instead of resisting, the cop sucked the smoke in—kissing Brad deeply in the process. He gave me the joint and I sucked it in, then kissed the cop, emptying my hot lungs into him. By the time we finished the joint, I was reeling.
“What was that stuff?” I asked.
“Sensimilla,” Brad said. “The best there is. It’s from Oregon. Happy birthday.”
I laughed. “Happy fucking birthday to me.” I stood up. “Help me get him on the bed.”
We lifted him up—he offered no resistance—and plopped him down in the middle of the bed.
“Keep him busy,” Brad said, and hurried out of the room again.
I knelt over him, dangling my cock in his face. It was dripping precum that made shiny trails across his nose and cheeks, like a snail. He opened his mouth expectantly, licking his lips. “Oh.” I said. “You like that, do you?”
He moaned.
“Ask.”
“Please…”
“Please what?”
“Please let me suck your cock.”
“That’s not what I meant. What do you call a superior being?”
His eyes opened wider and his mouth twitched. “Master,” he whispered.
“Good boy.” I said.
“Oh, Jesus,” he moaned.
“That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?” I asked him.
“Someone superior to you. Someone even better than a San Francisco cop.”
“Yesssss,” he hissed.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Master.”
I grabbed his face and shoved my cock into his open mouth. His body convulsed and he sucked my cock deep like a starving man, and lay there under me, swallowing and moaning. “That’s what you wanted all along. Someone…superior.”
“Here.” Brad came back into the room holding several lengths of clothesline rope.
With my cock down his throat, I watched Brad unlock the handcuffs, then tie the cop’s wrists to the bedposts—he offered no resistance, but held out his arms like Jesus on the cross, letting Brad cinch the ropes securely.
I withdrew from his throat, and then stood beside Brad, my arm around his shoulders, as we studied our prisoner. He contemplated us, looking confused, as though seeing both of us for the first time.
“Are you…really…lovers?” He asked.
Brad said, “What are you talking about?”
The cop shook his head, frowning. “The… two…of you,” he said.
“You’re out of your mind, mister,” I said. “There’s only one of us. You must be seeing double.”
“Oh, Jesus.” he moaned. “Oh, god.” He closed his eyes tightly and lay there groaning.
As Brad undressed, I tied the cop’s ankles to the same bedposts as his hands, bending him double, spread-eagled, with his ass in the air. I dipped my hand into the Crisco and swathed my cock with the grease, then knelt on the bed between the cop’s legs and slowly eased it into the twitching asshole of one of San Francisco’s Finest. He moaned gratefully with each inch, until I was all the way up inside his body. His big cock was flipping like a fish out of water, slick clear fluid oozing out of the uncircumcised head, dripping onto his chiseled stomach. I smeared some more shortening on my hand and closed my fingers around his incredible cock and slowly massaged it, up and down, as he writhed, and his asshole ruffled and fluttered around my cock.
“That’s gorgeous,” Brad said, seeing the cop’s cock hard for the first time.
“Isn’t it?” I agreed. “A work of fucking art.”
Brad laughed and got onto the bed, between the cop’s spread legs and outstretched arms, and slowly urged his hard cock down the man’s groaning throat—while I knelt between his legs, my identical cock buried up to the hilt in his ass. Brad grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to him and we kissed each other deeply as we explored and fucked the body between us. Both our hands could fit around his cock, so both of us jacked him off as we fucked him. Brad’s mouth locked against mine and his tongue bathed my tongue, and I shoved my prick home up the officer’s ass, and came, clutching Brad, kissing him intensely, as he shot his load deep into the man’s throat. And then the cop came. His body convulsed between us and his cock spewed wild volleys of cop-cum all over all of us.
And then we collapsed.
After Dan, the cop, had gone home (we exchanged phone numbers and agreed to “do it again sometime,”) Brad and I were lying on the bed, talking about what had happened.
“I’m…worried,” I said.
“About what?”
“It bothers me that you’re so damn glad that we’ve had our first threesome.”
“But that’s what was wrong, Warren,” he said. “It was just you and me. And…after a while—I don’t care how hot it is in the beginning—it gets cold. It gets routine…and that gets dull. With anybody. Straight or gay. Dave and Ash have threesomes and foursomes all the time.”
“And fivesomes and sixsomes,” I added. “Is that what it’s going to take? I mean, it sounds like you’re saying we have to have at least one other guy before we can have sex.”
“Oh, no,” he said quickly, squeezing
my hand. “At least, I hope not. That’ll happen spontaneously—but not every night, or even every week….”
“Well,” I said, “I guess this means we’ll be getting a lot of our old customers back—once word gets around we’re available. As a team, right?”
“Right…” He snuggled against me. “We’ve got a whole new adventure ahead of us. Like Ash said, it’s every gay guy’s hottest fantasy to make out with brothers or twins.”
“So…let’s get out there and fulfill some fantasies.”
“All those fantasies…so little time.”
We laughed and he moved closer, resting his head on my shoulder. “We’re so used to thinking that love and sex are the same thing,” he said, “we can’t separate the two things in our mind. Our bodies know the difference, but our heads are still back in those Sunday school lessons about never fucking anyone you don’t love. That’s strictly a church-control heterosexual trip, and doesn’t apply. But, still, it’s an automatic response—like we’re programmed. When I came home tonight and heard voices from the bedroom, the first thing I thought was, He doesn’t love me anymore.
“I know. I thought the same thing when that nellie bartender thought I was you.”
“It’s an automatic response—and it’s stupid. Love and sex are two completely separate things. It’s great when the two go together, but it’s not the end of the world if they don’t. I love you, whether we have sex or not.”
“And I love you too,” I said, putting my arm around him. “Actually…we’re not really lovers.”
He turned his head slightly on my shoulder, looking quizzical. “Oh?”
“From the beginning,” I said, “we were much more like brothers than lovers.”
“Long-lost twin brothers,” he said dreamily. “Separated at birth…”
“Gay brothers…getting to know each other,” I finished. “In every way possible.”
He chuckled.
“What?”
“Feel…” He took my hand and put it on his cock. It was hard again.
“Mine too,” I whispered, as I kissed him.
And it turned out I needn’t have worried at all.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ERIC K. ANDERSON is author of the novel Enough, and has published fiction in Chroma, Blithe House Quarterly, Ganymede , Velvet Mafia, and the anthologies From Boys to Men, Between Men 2, Brief Encounters and Best Gay Erotica 2011.
JACE BARTON is a twenty-five-year-old wannabe punk living in upstate New York. He has written a couple of plays (even had one performed!) and is always scribbling something down.
JAMIE FREEMAN (jamiefreeman.net) lives and writes in a small town in North Florida. More of his erotic fiction can be found in Daddies, College Boys, Muscle Men, Beautiful Boys, Black Fire, Video Boys and Homo Thugs. He has published a variety of genre fiction including romance, science fiction and horror.
DAVID HOLLY lives in Portland, Oregon. His books include Delicious Darkness, a darkly erotic collection of over-the-top gay fantasy stories. His stories have appeared in Best Gay Romance, Best Gay Erotica, Boy Crazy and many other publications. Find David Holly at facebook.com/david.holly2.
ROSCOE HUDSON is a creative writer and academic. When he is not hard at work revising his first novel or lifting weights at the gym, he’s usually watching porn—or writing it. He lives in Chicago.
KARDYMAN (drop--it.blogspot.com) is a fine arts graduate drawn to the tingle of creating comics. A prizewinner in his home country, Spain, his work has appeared in Gutter; he produces a sitcom/soap opera-ish gay online story, “Drop It.” “Touched” is his first worldwide publication, about which he is proud and loud.
DALE LAZAROV (dalelazarov.com) is the Chicago-based writer/editor of STICKY (drawn by Steve MacIsaac), MANLY (Amy Colburn) and NIGHTLIFE (Bastian Jonsson), gay erotic comics published by Bruno Gmünder Verlag. He is working on new gay erotic comic projects with Laura “Zel” Carboni, Chas Hunter, Alessio Slonimski, Foxy Andy, Diego Gomez and Mioki.
SHAUN LEVIN is a South African writer based in London. He is author, most recently, of Trees at a Sanatorium and Snapshots of The Boy, and of Seven Sweet Things and A Year of Two Summers. He edits the queer literary/arts journal, Chroma.
DAVID MAY ([email protected]) lives in Seattle with his husband and two cats. He is author of two fiction collections, Madrugada and Butch Bottom & the Absent Daddy; a collection of nonfiction, A Nice Boy from a Good Family; and an advice column, “Cum What May,” for M4Mkink.com.
ANTHONY MCDONALD lives in England. He is the author of four novels: Adam, Blue Sky Adam, (both now available on Kindle), Orange Bitter, Orange Sweet and, this year, Getting Orlando. He has contributed stories to numerous anthologies on both sides of the Atlantic.
TONY PIKE’s erotic fiction has previously appeared in Vulcan and Zipper magazines in the United Kingdom, and in the anthologies Dorm Porn II, Boy Crazy and Best Gay Erotica 2011.
SIMON SHEPPARD is the Lammy Award–winning editor of Homosex, and the author of Sodomy!, Hotter Than Hell, In Deep and several other sex-drenched books. His work has also appeared in more than three hundred anthologies; astonishingly, this is his eighteenth appearance in the BGE series. He hangs out smuttily at simonsheppard.com.
RAFAELITO V. SY (rafsy.com) was born in Manila. He earned his BA from Tufts University and his MFA in creative writing from Cornell University. His 2005 novel, Potato Queen, is about the segregationist relationship between Asians and Caucasians in the San Francisco gay community.
MATTILDA BERNSTEIN SYCAMORE (mattildabernsteinsyc-amore. com) is most recently the author of a sassy and salacious novel, So Many Ways to Sleep Badly. Her newest anthology, Why Are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots?: Flaming Challenges to Masculinity, Objectification, and the Desire to Conform, will be out just in time for Valentine’s Day 2012.
DIRK VANDEN (dirkvanden.net), born Richard Dale Fullmer, grew up a Mormon in the small town of Vernal, high in the Rocky Mountains of northeastern Utah. From 1969–1973, he published seven gay novels (including the All trilogy), several of which are still available on the web at outrageous prices.
ABOUT THE EDITORS
RICHARD LABONTÉ ([email protected]), when he’s not skimming dozens of anthology submissions a month, or reviewing one hundred or so books a year for Q Syndicate, or turning turgid bureaucratic prose into comprehensible English for the Inter-American Development Bank or the Reeves of Renfrew County, Ontario, or coordinating the judging of the Lambda Literary Awards, or crafting the best croutons ever at his weekend work in a Bowen Island recovery center kitchen, likes to startle deer as he walks terrier/schnauzer Zak, accompanied by husband Asa, through the island’s temperate rainforest. In season, he fills pails with salmonberries, blackberries and huckleberries. Yum. Since 1997, he has edited almost forty erotic anthologies, though “pornographer” was not an original career goal.
LARRY DUPLECHAN is the author of five novels, including Blackbird and the Lambda Literary Award–winning Got ’til it’s Gone. His first novel, Eight Days A Week, was banned from the Illinois State Penal System for being “without redeeming social value.” As you read this, he is very likely studying New Testament Greek or reading a gay erotic comic book on his iPad.
Copyright © 2012 by Richard Labonté. Introduction copyright © 2012 by Larry Duplechan.
All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television or online reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Publisher.
Published in the United States by Cleis Press Inc.,
2246 Sixth Street, Berkeley, California 94710.
eISBN : 978-1-573-44767-6
For Asa, my own BGE
“Bryce Canyon” © 2011 by Eric K. Anderson, reprinted with the author’s permission from Black Fire: Gay African-American Erotica, edited by Shane Allison (Bold Strokes
). “Training Tyler” © 2012 by Jace Barton. “Sunday in the Park” © 2012 by Jamie Freeman. “The Robin Club” © 2012 by David Holly. “Translations” © 2012 by Roscoe Hudson. “Touched” © 2011 by Dale Lazarov and Kardyman. “Foreigners in Sitges” © 2012 by Shaun Levin. “Delivering the Goods” © 2012 by Anthony McDonald. “Commerce: A Not Very Cautionary Tale” © 2012 by David May. “Three Boys and a Boat—or Possibly Five” © 2012 by Tony Pike. “Your Jock” © 2012 by Simon Sheppard. “For Jordan” © 2012 by Rafaelito V. Sy. “Before the Plane” © 2012 by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore. “Once Upon a Time, in 1969” © 1969 by Frenchy’s Gay Line and © 2011 by Dirk Vanden, excerpted and revised with the author’s permission from I Want It All (loveyoudivine Alterotica, 2011).
Best Gay Erotica 2012 Page 20