Queermance Anthology, Volume 2

by Queermance Anthology- Volume 2 [MM-FF] (retail) (epub)

  He finally wandered back to me and grabbed his coffee gratefully. I checked for one last thing before I made my move on him.

  ‘So, do you live with family in Busselton?’ I asked casually.

  ‘Sort of,’ he answered with a friendly smile. He’d relaxed and thawed a lot over the morning. ‘Technically I live with my grandparents, but they are caravaners and spend six to nine months of the year on the road, touring Australia. So most of the time I live by myself.’

  Green light. I smiled from behind my coffee and planned my seduction. ‘Sounds good. Listen - I’m just going to take a quick shower and get the salt and sand off me, then we can head into the trees for some more shots.’

  He nodded in agreement. Poor innocent, Sam.

  I put my mug down on the table and strode to the edge of the patio where I had installed an outdoor shower. A rock wall was hidden beside some bushes, and the taps and showerhead were set into the stone. And my shower only had one wall.

  I adjusted the water temperature and stepped in wearing my boardies. They were salty and needed to be rinsed. I turned to find Sam watching me.

  ‘I thought you wanted to take pictures of me?’ I prodded him. Despite having an ulterior motive, I knew my shower was picturesque with the tall karri trees as background. I turned my back and listened intently. As I expected, I heard movement and the sound of the camera. Keeping my back turned, I rinsed my body, sloughing off the sand and salt. Then as casually as I could, I dropped my boardies to the ground and carried on with my shower.

  I listened intently and could just make out the click of Sam still taking pictures. Without vanity, I knew my body looked good, and I hoped Sam was getting aroused - because I certainly was. I had gone hard just thinking about Sam looking at me. Now to reel in the big fish.

  I turned to face him and snuck a quick glance at the man I hoped would take me up on my invitation in the next two minutes, before tilting my head back under the spray, attempting to look casual.

  As casual as one can appear sporting a huge boner under a shower with a guy taking photos nearby.

  I rinsed my hair and finally looked up to see what reaction I was getting. My photographer was standing mute, not taking any pictures, just staring at me. I watched him watching me, until he realised that he was being watched. A flush marched determinedly up his neck and covered his cheekbones as he blinked and tried to look away.

  ‘I��� uh���’ he stumbled out. He looked down at the camera in his hands as if suddenly realising he was still holding it. ‘I��� ahh��� don’t think you want those sorts of pictures displayed on my website.’

  I tried to stop from grinning at him. ‘How about for your private collection?’ I taunted. Didn’t every guy have a private collection of photos?

  I didn’t think it was possible, but he flushed even redder. With a look of surprise he turned back to me. ‘How did���?’ He trailed off as he realised it was a rhetorical question. But at least he was back to making eye contact with me.

  I flashed him what I hoped was a winning smile and deliberately ran my hands down my stomach to my junk. His eyes followed closely.

  ‘Join me?’ I invited softly. And I knew I had to go softly. This one was skittish.

  His gaze flew up to mine. ‘What? You mean���?’

  ‘Yes,’ I confirmed confidently.

  He looked confused and shocked all at once. ‘You mean you’re gay? What about the girl on the beach that you’re always with?’

  Ahh. The light dawned. ‘I’m bi,’ I corrected. ‘And Katrina is just a casual thing. She knows about it. We tried to do faithful, but it didn’t work. So now we do casual and no hard feelings on either side.’ I palmed my dick and grinned. ‘Well, no hard feelings apart from this.’

  This drew Sam’s gaze again and I could see I was having an effect on him. His shorts tented out in an encouraging manner. However, he was still indecisive. I waved him over. ‘C’mon, Sam. Come and join me in my shower.’

  I watched as he thought about it. I could almost hear the thoughts running through his head as he wrestled with his desire which struggled with his need to be professional. I almost saw the moment he barrelled through that argument, because he took a quick look around as if sizing up the environment.

  ‘No one will see,’ I assured him. ‘And no one comes around unexpectedly without ringing. C’mon Sam. I’m dying over here.’

  That statement did it for him. He wrenched his shirt off and my eyes almost gobbled up the sight. As I expected, he was a single colour all over. Probably due to his Asian heritage, he also had very little body hair. His shorts fell and he walked somewhat selfconsciously across the planking to where I waited. His cock showed me how interested he was in me, and that was more than okay with me. I reached for his shoulder as he neared, and made room for him under the spray.

  Sam stepped closer, his hands encircling my waist as we met in the middle with an open kiss. I clutched him near and we plastered ourselves together, rubbing and grinding under the water. For minutes we simply kissed and pushed against each other while our hands explored chests, necks, backs and buttocks, but eventually we both needed more.

  It had been a bit of a cock-drought for me, and I was eager to rediscover the delights. I willingly sank to my knees and swallowed his dick down my throat. He groaned and urged me on with hands in my hair and pelvic thrusts. I applied myself to my task with dedication, the situation pushing the heights of my own desire. Eventually I felt a tug on my hair and Sam’s hands urged me to stand again. I stood and we kissed again before Sam whispered in my ear, ‘My turn.’ Then he kissed his way down my body until he was kneeling on the concreted floor.

  The world ceased to exist around me. The man could blow. I tilted my head back and felt myself fall into the experience. The water flowed across our naked bodies and I drew nearer to my climax - quicker than I expected. Sam understood and returned to my arms for another spine tingling kiss.

  ‘Soap?’ he asked roughly and it took me a couple of seconds to think what he meant, since my neural tubes were misfiring with arousal.

  I reached behind him and pulled out a bottle of locally made shower gel. With identical thoughts we shuffled a bit to the side of the shower, so the water wouldn’t wash away the lubrication we needed. I leaned back against the rock wall and squirted some gel in my palm. I dashed a bit on my dick, then reached for Sam’s cock. He groaned and nestled in, grasping my erection with eagerness. The gel was slippery, and Sam’s hand was warm, so it didn’t take me long to climax. I clutched his waist and came in long strings of white fluid as he thrust against me and into my hand in his attempt to find his own orgasm.

  I waited patiently as he buried his face in my neck and flew. I watched with avid eyes, waiting for the moment when he would explode. My fascinated gaze recorded the moment as he shot, his jizz spraying upward and over both of us. He cried out loudly, and we stood under the warm spray, exulting in each other’s closeness as the water washed away the evidence.

  It was a great start to the day.

  Sam stayed the day with me. We spent a couple of hours in the bush behind my house where he photographed nature as well as me in nature. And sometimes me au naturel in nature.

  Then I introduced him to Stuart.

  ‘Holy fuck,’ Sam breathed as he first got a look at my pride and joy. ‘What is it?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘He’s a bull, dickhead.’

  ‘Yeah, but I mean what the hell is he crossed with? An elephant? A brontosaurus?’

  I smiled in pride. Stuart was rather��� large. But he was my baby. ‘I’ll bring him over,’ I said as I climbed through the fence. ‘Wait here.’

  ‘What? You’re not going in are you?’ Sam cried. I ignored him and wandered over to my pet. Stuart was ambling toward me, but broke into a trot as he neared. It was our game. I was rather glad he was polled, which meant he had no horns. He sped up and I stopped so he could judge my position. Then he galloped past me, m
issing me by inches but managing to flick me with his tail. The bloody bugger. He was eight years old, and he’d yet to accidently knock me down, but he would swish me with his black, ropey tail any time he could. He whirled around, and then came back at me, skidding to a halt a metre from my chest. I laughed with delight and scratched behind his ear the way he liked. He purred in delight.

  ‘Oh, you wuss,’ I chided him. ‘Come and meet, Sam.’

  Sam was standing with his camera out, taking photos, but with a dumbfounded look on his face. I guessed that Stuart’s size was kind of intimidating.

  ‘You weren’t afraid for me, were you?’ I grinned as I patted my bull. ‘Sam, meet Stuart. He’s head honcho in this part of the world.’

  Sam was still ungluing his tongue from the top of his mouth by the looks of it, and took a while to answer. ‘Head honcho?’

  I pretended to block Stuart’s ears and whispered confidingly, ‘Do you want to be the one to tell Stuart that he isn’t?’

  With an exasperated shake of his head, Sam told me, ‘You’re amazing, Joe Mitchell. I’d love to take pictures of Stuart if you’ll let me. Can I come over tomorrow?’

  I thought about it, and from long experience sidestepped Stuart’s huge hoof as he tried to sidle closer for more scratches. ‘I’m working tomorrow.’

  ‘What do you do?’ Sam asked, genuinely interested.

  ‘Him,’ I told Sam, pointing at my bull. ‘Mitchell Angus Stud and Vineyard. This is my parents’ property. Dad comes from a vineyard background, and so he works the grapes.’ I pointed to the rows of vines clearly visible to the north. ‘But my mother’s family are stud farmers. So they combined the two. Grandad does most of the stud work while Dad is our vintner. I work both. When there’s a grape harvest, I help Dad. Otherwise I work with Grandad. Then Stuart turned out like he did and that meant I’ve been extremely involved in the stud work in the last couple of years. Stuart responds to me, and he brings in the money.’

  Sam still looked with fearful eyes at my bull.

  I nodded to reassure him. ‘I’ll be down the beach early morning as usual. Then I’ll be working around the farm. You’re welcome to hang around for the day. There are some cows you can photograph, and Stuart of course. Or you can tramp the bush. You can pay me with a good pic of my baby here.’

  Sam snorted in disbelief, but as usual, no one would argue with the “baby” tag. Especially since Stuart was almost rolling on the ground, offering his stomach up to be patted.

  Sam made it to the beach in time to see me catch a number of good waves. We had a shower together again, before I kissed him regretfully and headed off to the sheds with a stern warning to him about staying out of paddocks and closing gates after himself.

  Grandad grunted when I told him Sam was a “friend”. It wasn’t that he was homophobic, it was just that he never understood the bi label. Grandad liked things to be black or white. The “I like both” didn’t cut it with him.

  At the end of the day, Sam stayed for dinner and we cracked the brand new pack of condoms I’d bought from the chemist. He admitted he was vers, which I thanked the Lord for, because I liked it both ways too. So we flip-flopped for the evening before collapsing in an exhausted heap.

  ‘I’m going north tomorrow for four days,’ he told me. ‘Can I ring you when I get home?’

  I gritted my teeth. This was always the awkward bit. ‘I’m not into relationships, Sam. I’m casual. I’ve tried before, but it doesn’t work. I don’t want to put you through that pain. I’d love to see you again when you get back, but don’t go expecting that you’re going to be the only one.’ He didn’t respond. I twisted in his embrace so we could speak face to face. ‘I don’t mean that I’m out there fucking everything that moves. It just means that if it happens, it happens. If you can’t do casual, then we can’t do anything at all.’

  He nodded, but I could see the sadness. ‘Casual then,’ he agreed.

  I smiled and kissed him. ‘And no hard feelings. Either way. Unless it’s this.’ I reached for his limp cock and he pushed me away with a groan.

  ‘You’re killing me, Moe.’

  I grinned.

  He called me when he got home and turned up at the beach the following day. I grinned as I jogged up the sand toward him.

  ‘You look tired, mate.’

  He scrubbed his face. ‘I am bloody tired. I’ve been photographing the criminal elements of small towns, which means I’ve been up most nights.’

  ‘You wanna come back to my house?’ I offered. ‘You could crash in my bed for a few hours while I’m working, then I’ll take you to the pub.’ He nodded his agreement.

  Grandad noticed my cheerfulness that day. ‘You want to share the secret?’ he demanded of me at lunchtime. I shrugged off his comment, not denying that the knowledge that Sam was waiting for me when I got home was making me happy.

  ‘Sam’s back,’ is all I said. And Grandad rolled his eyes.

  I took Sam with me to the pub that night, where a number of mates were gathered to play a not-so-friendly game of darts. I say not-so-friendly, because the stakes were usually high and the loser had to do some not-so-pleasant things. Like steal a pair of Mrs Grundy’s undies off her washing line - and video evidence to say they came off her line was required.

  I wanted Sam to meet Kai, who was starting his own business selling custom surfboards. I thought Kai could pay Sam for some photos for a website and brochure. Most of my mates had seen or heard about “the photographer” on the beach, so they welcomed him into the group. Sally was an amateur photographer and soon they were chatting. I relaxed and downed a couple of beers. It was nearly an hour later when I felt some slim arms sneak around my waist. I looked up and smiled at Katrina.

  ‘Hey. Where’ve you been?’ I asked her. She was one of the ones who usually took part in the darts competition. She was a wicked dare-thinker-upper too.

  ‘The grandparents were visiting,’ she grimaced. I felt her pain. While we were dating, her Nan was especially pushy about Katrina getting married and having a houseful of babies. Several years on and Katrina wasn’t even dating anyone; her Nan would be getting desperate.

  ‘Sucks,’ I sympathised. ‘Can I get you a beer, then?’

  She sighed. ‘How about a six pack to go and we’ll take it back to your house?’

  Shit.

  I hadn’t ever been in the situation where I had to choose between Katrina and someone else. It’s not like I always went with her, but she’d never asked at a time I’d had to turn her down because of “a better offer”.

  ‘Oh. Umm.’ I stumbled on the words and she frowned. I reminded myself that we were just casual friends, and if I was feeling obligated to her, then we’d obviously pushed that casual boundary a bit. It was time to pull back. ‘I’m with someone tonight.’

  One of the things I loved about Katrina was that she wasn’t dumb. She scanned the crowd and immediately hit on the correct person. ‘Him?’ Her tone was straightforward, and so I stumbled unknowingly into the honeypot trap she set in front of me. She checked out Sam and shrugged, ‘Okay. I’m up for it.’

  Oh, no, no, no. A threesome wasn’t on the cards. Just because I didn’t mind being with either gender, it didn’t necessarily mean I wanted to be with both at the same time. For some reason, it was a common belief that being bisexual meant you participated in a lot of threesomes.

  I tried the simple path to reasoning with Katrina. ‘He’s gay, not bi.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ she pushed. I felt my hackles go up. It was time to be blunt.

  ‘No. It’s just going to be me and him, thanks.’

  But Katrina persisted. ‘I don’t mind sharing.’ I took back my thoughts of her being smart.

  ‘I do,’ I rebutted, and left her shocked that I was turning her down. I wandered over to Sam and gave him a look which he interpreted correctly. He wound up his conversation fast, and we headed home. Just the two of us.

  The following week I had to drive to Busselton for
some parts and texted Sam. He replied with his apologies that he was in Perth, which was a two hour drive north. I was disappointed, but shrugged it off and conducted the business I needed to.

  He rang and told me when he was home, and I found a reason to head to town. Luckily I worked for family because I didn’t quite make it back to the farm that afternoon.

  Being a photographer for hire, Sam flew off to a lot of exotic locations. Two weeks in Fiji, a week in Melbourne, ten days in Alice Springs and a quick job for two days in Tasmania. Sometimes he was home for just a day, other times he hung around for weeks.

  The weather turned colder, which disappointed me because Sam insisted on no more outdoor showers. I still surfed daily, and Sam would come and watch when he could. Despite me brushing her off in favour of Sam, Katrina became good friends with him. He’d used her and Emily as models for Kai’s surfboard business, which went a long way to having him accepted in our group.

  He gifted me with two giant framed photographs for payment of the modelling I did for him - one of Stuart, and one me on the waves. He also produced some great photos for our stud, showing Stuart off in all his glory, as well as several of our other prime stud bulls and dams. Grandad was so impressed he actually consented to talk to Sam like a real human, instead of the-man-who-got-up-to-God-only-knows-what with his grandson.

  God wasn’t the only one who knew what we got up to. We both turned out to have vivid imaginations. I introduced him to the pleasures of skinny dipping in out-of-the-way places, followed by a round of sex in the great outdoors. He, in turn, introduced me to Ben Wa balls.

  The first time he brought them out, I screwed up my face and said, ‘I heard they used them in that Fifty Shades book.’

  He skyrocketed my arousal with a single look as he said wryly, ‘Not in the way you’re about to use them.’

  By the time he’d finished with me, two things had happened. My legs had turned to jelly, and I was a devotee of the art of Ben Wa balls.

  His grandparents returned home and I met them as well as the whole family. There was a a moment when his mother referred to me as ‘Sam’s boyfriend.’ I was about to open my trap and correct her, but she was this wonderful little dynamo who was so happy to meet me that I couldn’t upset her by trying to find a polite way to describe “fuck buddy”.