Tag Archives: gay erotic fiction

New York Heat — Chapter One

Hi all!

I’ve done, like, no promo because I’ve been so insanely busy… so, surprise! I have a major new release tomorrow!

New York Heat is a continuation of two of my previous books, Go-Go Boys of Club 21 and Men In The Hot Room, but New York Heat can be read with absolutely zero knowledge of the previous books.

Below is the blurb and the cover and then chapter one!


Club 21 is New York City’s hottest gay nightclub. The drinks are cheap, the music is infectious, and the go-go boys are the stuff of dreams.

For Dan, it’s where his life will forever change. With his signature on the dotted line, he goes from bartender to owner. And with that change, he realizes that both his responsibilities and his stress have skyrocketed.

Club 21 is home. The staff are family. Like a mama bear, Dan is fiercely protective of his clients and his staff, especially his go-go boys, whose carefree dancing inspires Dan to make Club 21 the best it can be.

Especially Ken, once a fling, now the love of his life. There’s so much that needs to get done at Club 21, but Dan is terrified that all the long evenings will drive his young go-go boy lover away. Dan doesn’t want to lose him, but if anything ever happened to his staff—his family—Dan would never forgive himself…

Content warning: New York Heat contains a scene of mass violence and the death of a main character.

Find ebook and paperback buy links here.


Chapter One

Dan leaned against the metal newspaper box and stared at the brick building in front of him. This was either the best decision he’d ever made … or the worst. There could be no in between. He’d be happy and financially well off … or this would lead to utter ruin.

He fumbled in his back pocket for the pack of smokes he’d bought earlier that day. Haven’t smoked in twenty years, he reminded himself again. The stress of today, though, made it impossible to resist the decades-old siren song of tobacco. He tapped a cigarette out of the pack, along with the lighter, and lit up. He inhaled deep, letting the searing smoke fill his lungs, the burning taste fill his mouth — it was comfortable. It brought him an instant relief to the tension that had been building for the last two weeks, culminating in today.

Through all of this, he never took his eyes off the brick building.

“Since when have you started smoking again?” Brad asked.

“Today,” Dan said, the answer coming out as little more than a grunt. It was enough, he knew, to signal to Brad to not ask further questions.

Brad let out a hmm sound, then folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the second newspaper box. He stared up at the building. Brad had come down from Canada to help Dan with what the next few weeks would bring.

“Remember when we bought fake IDs and snuck in?” Brad asked.

Dan laughed — expressing far more humor than he really felt — but the laugh was good. It was cleansing. It was what he needed to break the tension that had settled over him, tightening up his whole body.

He flicked ash off the end of the cigarette. “We were such twinks back then.”

Dan remembered the night well. It was more than thirty years ago, but he recalled it like it was last week. They were nineteen, but desperate to get into Club 21, the hottest gay bar in New York City. They’d spent weeks asking around the college campus for a black market ID seller. They’d practiced acting older — even though twenty-one, the age to get in, was barely any different from nineteen. Dan had even gone out and bought a dress shirt, hoping it made him look like a banker or something.

“All that work,” Brad said, “and they didn’t even give us a second glance or check our ID.”

“If I remember right, you ended up with some hot daddy in the men’s room.”

Brad laughed, then reached over and took the cigarette from Dan’s hand, taking in a drag before handing it back. “I wasn’t even that attracted to him. I think I was just in awe that a man wanted me. But I seem to remember you grinding on some jock on the dance floor.”

They both broke into a roar of laughter. When it died down, Dan inhaled another lungful of smoke. He hated the habit, hated the taste too, but it helped him get through days like this.

He finally tore his gaze from the brick building to glance at his friend of almost forty years. “I’ve missed you, Brad. It’s good to have you back.” Shortly after college, Brad had taken odd jobs around the country before getting certified in various types of yoga and moving to Canada to teach in studios there. Dan had taken a much different path, heading into a career in accounting, where he stayed with one company his entire career. Until now.

Brad took another drag of Dan’s cigarette. “It’s good to be back. I’ve been away from New York for too long.” He put his arm over Dan’s shoulders, pulling him closer, sharing his warmth on this chilly May afternoon. “But I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Dan.”

Dan looked up at the building again. Even in this drab May day, the brick was a deep red, nice and clean, and the neon sign, not yet lit up, proudly pronounced this building as Club 21. As of two o’clock this afternoon, just a couple hours ago, this club was now his.

Though he’d been an accountant by day, he’d done some evening work as a bartender here. He’d been happy with his life. But when Rachel, the previous owner, moved to L.A. to follow her son and support him in his newfound career, he saw an opportunity that he couldn’t pass up. He wanted to own Club 21.

I’m still scared shitless, he admitted to himself. He couldn’t tell anyone else that — not even Ken, his boyfriend — because he needed to appear confident and sure. He suspected that Brad saw right through his façade, though. Being best friends with a guy for something like four decades allowed for that kind of closeness.

Brad’s arm was still around his shoulders and it felt comforting. It reminded Dan of when they were much closer, when they were almost boyfriends. They’d hooked up a few times in college, before getting into Club 21, but they’d never progressed beyond a few blowjobs and the occasional fuck. He leaned into Brad’s warm, solid body, letting out a sigh and, with it, letting out some of the tension that had built up in him over the day.

“I still can’t believe you bought the place,” Brad said. “I remember back in college, we were chatting one night about our dreams when we were in bed together, and you said something about wanting to own the place. I had thought it was a cool idea, but I never thought it would happen.”

Dan had forgotten about that. Even though he’d spent hundreds of nights over his lifetime at Club 21, he remembered nothing of a desire to own the place. He said as much to Brad, then added, “I guess it was just meant to be.”

“Speaking of meant to be — tell me about Ken.”

Dan felt a blush warm his cheeks, like he was that nineteen-year-old twink again. “He’s a bit of a bad boy, but with a good heart. He’s one of the dancers here. He’s, uh, he’s inside,” Dan said. Brad and his partner, Simon, had flown in two nights ago, but with all of the busyness of signing contracts and legal documents, they hadn’t had a chance to get reacquainted or to meet — or even see — each other’s boyfriends. “And he’s … he’s considerably younger than me.”

Brad laughed, but it wasn’t the friendly-teasing laugh that Dan had expected. It seemed almost a laugh of recognition. “Simon is quite a bit younger than me too. He’s twenty-two.”

Dan felt a wave of relief. Though older-younger relationships weren’t uncommon, especially among gay men, he had always felt that they were based more on lust and carnal desires, rather than genuine love. Even when he had started with Ken, it was a relationship based on hooking up and frequent sex. Love had been an unexpected consequence.

“Ken is twenty-two, as well,” Dan said.

“Well, look at us being man-cougars.” He hugged Dan’s shoulders a little tighter for a moment. “Do you love him?”

“I do,” Dan said. It had taken Dan and Ken a while to recognize these feelings, and even longer to admit them. But, once they did, everything felt right. “And you and Simon?”

“Me too.” He took another drag of Dan’s cigarette, then handed it back. “It’s odd, isn’t it? Being in love.”

Dan took the final drag of the cigarette, then flicked it across the sidewalk. “It is. Sometimes, well…”

“Sometimes what?”

“Do you ever wonder if these young twinks will grow tired of us? You know, realize there’s more fun to be had with someone closer to their own age?” It was a fear that he had never voiced before, a fear he had trouble admitting even to himself. Brad was the one person in this world who he felt comfortable saying such a thing to.

“All the fucking time,” Brad said. “I’m in my fifties, my body is sagging, even though I’m fit. I’m slowing down every year as much as I hate to admit it. And every day brings a new gray hair. And Simon is supposed to love me as this keeps happening?”

Dan sighed. “Maybe we’re getting lust and love mixed up. I know it took me a long time to sort them out. I didn’t even realize they meant different things until recently.”

“That could be it. Lust is all physical, all animal. Love is … love is something deeper, more permanent, slow-growing. I don’t think it’s as easily lost as lust can be.”

Dan didn’t know how to respond, so he let the comfortable silence settle over the two of them. They continued staring at the brick building, even as pedestrians passed in front of them and cars passed behind them. New York City was a busy place with rarely a moment of pure peace — but this was pretty damn close.

After a very long time of just leaning against the newspaper boxes, Brad broke the silence. “I see the leather bar is closed.”

Dan glanced toward the brick building across the narrow alley. The leather bar had gone under just a couple weeks ago and, as far as Dan knew, no one had made an offer on the place yet. While commercial real estate in New York City was hot, it seemed no one wanted the old bar.

“It’s been there as long as Club 21,” Dan said. “Changed names many times, but it’s always been there. But the world moves on.” Dan remembered well when they’d gone to the leather bar together. If nights at Club 21 were slow or if they were in particular need of sucking daddy dick, they’d sometimes head across the alley and scope out the meat there. There were as many memories in that building as there were in Club 21.

“Hmm,” Brad said. Dan looked at his friend and saw a look of serious contemplation on his face.


Brad stared at the building a little longer, seeming to size it up, then glanced at Dan. “Just a … just a flight of fancy, I guess. I’ve been thinking of starting up my own yoga studio. That place is large enough.” He shook his head. “But this can’t b a spur-of-the-moment decision. I can’t just say I’m going buy a building and start a studio.”

Dan let out a laugh that came out as a snort. “That’s basically what I did with Club 21.” He looked again at Brad and saw just how seriously his friend was considering this. He elbowed him in the side. “You should do it. Take risks. I bet the price is a steal — seems no one wants to move in.”

“Hmm,” Brad said again.

Dan let Brad ruminate on the building and his dream of a studio while he instead looked at Club 21 again — his apparent dream come true. Hopefully it’s a good dream, not a nightmare.

An urge for another cigarette settled into Dan. He didn’t want to get too deep into smoking again — the further in he was, the harder it would be to quit. And he’d have to quit. Ken didn’t like that he smoked. Dan didn’t like it himself, either, but he could put up with his bad habits easier than Ken could.

“Come on,” Dan said, “let’s go inside.”

Brad released his hold on Dan’s shoulders and the two men stood up and walked toward the front door. Though he’d gone in and out a few times today and he’d been running the place for Rachel until the paperwork legally signed the place over to him, this was the first time he’d entered with the building belonging to him. It was somehow fundamentally different.

He put his key in the lock and turned, the tumblers clicking and causing his heart to pound against his ribs. He felt almost lightheaded for a moment. He gave the door a tug and it opened.

Pulling the door open wide, he turned to Brad and said, “Welcome … to Club 21.”

Find ebook and paperback buy links here.


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Submissive Candy by Zane Menzy

Good morning, MM book lovers! Today I’ve got Submissive Candy by Zane Menzy — check it out!


Everything blew up in Levi Candy’s face when he set out to seduce his best friend Josh Stephenson. Instead of having his dubious way with the sexy straight boy, and making him the unwitting star of the next Candy Boy blog entry, Josh’s father thwarted Levi’s plan and taught him a humiliating lesson.

In exchange for Josh’s father’s silence, Levi is forced to write a story about the night his body was disciplined by the dominant man in ways he will never be able to forget or undo. If he doesn’t want people finding out about his scandalous online alter ego then Levi best damn well do it. But there’s just one problem… no one tells Levi Candy what to do and gets away with it.

Two stubborn men, both dominant by nature, are on a collision course with cruel carnality where there can only be one winner and hearts will never beat the same again.

Buy your copy now or read for free with Kindle Unlimited!

2 Submissive 1


Dwight tugged nervously on his earlobe as he watched the boy head towards the smokers area out the back of the tavern. He’d never been cruised so blatantly before that he was unsure of what to do. Certainly never in his local tavern. His head knew that if he were to follow the boy then he would put himself in danger of doing something stupid and reckless but his hardening cock begged him to stand up and chase after the young man regardless of the consequences. In the end—like always—his cock was what he listened to.

“I’m just nipping out for a fag,” Dwight said, standing up. If he wasn’t so nervous about Shifty asking to join him he would have laughed at how honest his statement was. He needn’t have worried. His older pal was far too engrossed in the rugby to give a toss about joining him for a cigarette.

With a sure stride, Dwight headed to the outdoor smoking area, hunting the blond lad down like a dog chasing a frisbee. As soon as he stepped outside, Dwight was taken aback by how dark the courtyard was. It looked to be deserted and no sign of the blond boy. He scanned the empty chairs that were placed around dimly lit braziers but could not see him anywhere.

Maybe he didn’t go this way.

Just as he turned on his heels, about to head back inside, he heard a low cough come from the far corner of the courtyard. He spun back around and that was when he saw him stood against a vine-covered brick wall. A smile formed on Dwight’s lips and he made his way over to the flirty boy.

“Howzit,” Dwight said, his voice pitched low with gravel.

“Hey.” The boy stood there completely relaxed, oozing a sexual confidence rarely found in young guys.

Dwight jammed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet, not entirely sure how to progress things. He liked to be the alpha who had the power but he was outside of his comfort zone and unsure how to make the next move.

“So, uh, hows ya night been?” Dwight asked, his voice warbling slightly.


On closer inspection this lad was younger than he originally thought, more likely in his late teens than early twenties. “How old are you?” Dwight asked in a stern tone.

“Old enough,” came the reply, steadfast and sure.

“Old enough for what?”

“Whatever it is you had in mind.”

“Is that so.”

The boy didn’t respond; instead, he bit down on his bottom lip, extending his hand out and placing it on Dwight’s crotch, grabbing him firmly.

Dwight coughed out a quiet gasp. The boy had his balls in his hands, seizing control of the interaction. This was not how Dwight wanted things to go.

The boy kept hold, gripping Dwight tightly in his hand, staring into his dark eyes which were torn between pleasure and fright. His cock twitched and grew firm between the boy’s furled fingers.

The boy breathed heavily, releasing his grip on Dwight’s dick and asked, “How old are you?”

“How old do you think I am?”

He looked Dwight up and down, scanning his face. “I reckon you’re about Twenty-eight or twenty-nine?”

Dwight’s ego began to swell just like his cock, scaring off his jitters and injecting him with enough confidence to wrestle back control of the moment. “Close enough.”

“Was I right?”

“You’ll have to count the rings around my cock to find out, won’t ya?”

The boy sniggered. “Is that before or after you count mine.”

“I won’t be counting yours, sunshine.”

“And why not?”

“Cos I ain’t a cock-slobbering homo.”

“You might change your mind when you see it.” He grabbed Dwight’s wrist roughly and pressed Dwight’s hand to the hard ridge behind his zipper. “What do you think?”

Dwight kept his hand pressed against the boy’s rock-hard dick, adding a small amount of friction, wishing like hell those jeans weren’t in the way. He could tell the boy wasn’t huge but he would be a good mouthful. Not that he had any intention of wrapping his lips around it.

Dwight Stephenson sucked no man’s cock.

“Unzip me. I know you want it,” the boy said, all breathy-like. “My dick.”

“I might like to have a play with it,” Dwight admitted. “But not out here.”

“Fair enough.” The boy looked around the courtyard, his eyes seeking secret spots. “But where then?”

“The women’s toilets.”

“The women’s toilets,” the boy echoed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“There’s only one bitch here tonight—aside from you of course—so we shouldn’t get interrupted.”

“Oi. I’m not a bitch, bro.”

“You are whatever I want you to be.” Dwight stared back with unflinching dominance.

The boy’s face began to crinkle with doubt. He appeared to be in a war with his inner pride and self-respect, trying to decide if he should just walk away. He finally gave a begrudging nod of the head, agreeing to the submissive role he was being assigned.

Dwight suppressed a smile and instructed, “Now, I want you to go back inside, lock yourself in one of the ladies cubicles, strip naked, and bend over the toilet and wait for me to come fuck you.”

Hesitation stifled the air.

“Would it be alright if we just jacked off together? I’m not much of a bottom,” the boy said.

“If you want to hook up with me then you gonna be a bottom, son.”

The boy scratched at his neck. “Oh, man. I am keen but…”

“But what?”

“But I don’t have a condom or any lube with me.”

“Just as well for you I have a rubber in my wallet.”

“And lube?”

“Your mouth will be our lube.” Dwight gave the boy a salacious wink.

This didn’t help remove the stress etched on the boy’s face. He looked like he may just walk away.

Dwight was too damn close to miss out now, so he resorted to desperate measures. He looked behind him to make sure no one was coming then reached down and pushed his jeans off his hips, freeing his cock. “You think you can handle that?” He wasn’t fully-erect but he was hard enough for the boy to appreciate his imminent size.

The boy’s eyes glowed with horny intrigue. “Whoa, that’s a beautiful cock you got there.”

“I know.”

The boy reached over and gripped it, squeezing his warm digits around Dwight’s shaft, exploring his length. “Fuck that’s nice.”

“Okay. That’s enough.” He pushed the boy’s hand away and put his dick back in his pants.

“Is it nice enough for you to do what I want?”

“What do I get out of it?”

“The honour of being fucked by me.” Dwight was serious. “And if you’re lucky I might let you give me your phone number.”

“You’re a cocky one. Anybody ever tell you that?”

“Maybe… but it’s hard to tell what they’re saying ‘cos they’re usually choking on my dick.”

The boy laughed.

“So, are we doing this or what?” Dwight stared at him blankly.

“Yeah, why the hell not.”

“That’s the spirit, blondie.”

“My name ain’t blondie. It’s—”

Dwight put a finger to the boy’s lips, hushing him. “I don’t need your name, son. Just your arse. Now go to the toilets and wait for me.”

“How long will you be?”

“As long as I fucking want.”

“You’re a bit of an arsehole, bro.” The boy chuckled. “But it’s kinda hot.”

Of course it is.

Dwight suddenly stepped back, his eyes raking over the boy’s chest, lower, then back to his lips that would soon be sucking dick. “Hurry the fuck up and get in there. And when I say I expect you naked, I do mean naked. None of this leaving your t-shirt and socks on bullshit.”

“Yes, Sir.” The boy grinned, giving a mock salute before disappearing inside.

Dwight pressed down on his cock which throbbed impatiently as he watched the boy walk away. The blond lad may not have been Levi-Candy-gorgeous but he would do.

When he was done with taking his sweet time puffing his way through a cigarette, Dwight made his way inside where he slipped discreetly into the ladies toilets and had his way with the piece of teen meat, wrecking the boy’s arsehole with a ruthless fuck.

Yep. I’m the man.

Buy your copy now or read for free with Kindle Unlimited!

About Zane Menzy:

Zane lives along the wild west coast of New Zealand in an old seaside cottage with his gaming-obsessed flatmate. He is a fan of ghost stories, road trips, dark-haired men, and nights out that usually lead to his head hanging in a bucket the next morning.

He enjoys creating characters who have flaws, crazy thoughts, and a tendency to make bad decisions. His stories are emotionally-charged and don’t shy away from some of love and life’s darker themes.

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Daddy Bear by BJ Smyth

Happy Friday, smutty book lovers! Today I have BJ Smyth here with a sexy new book — I’ve read this one, trust me, it’s HOT!

Daddy Bear

It all starts with attraction.

Carter is Twenty-Two, insecure and desperate for a boyfriend. He also has a secret desire for older bear type guys.

Frank is Forty-Five, just out of a relationship. He has recently moved to the area escaping his old life and looking for a new start.

After a brief encounter at the local swimming pool, Carter can’t get Frank’s hot body out of his head. Can he make his Daddy Bear dreams reality?

But is Carter really what Frank needs in his life?

Buy your copy on Amazon or read it in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Amazon CA | Amazon IN



I hear him drop his bag onto the bench as I resist the temptation to turn and face him. My body tingles with excitement knowing he is in the room with me and is about to get undressed. I can feel my cock stiffening as I imagine what he looks like naked. Trying to distract myself, I take my things out of the locker and place them on the bench.

Picking up my towel I sit down on the bench so I’m facing him and pretend to dry my feet, keeping my stiffening cock covered by the towel. He has his back to me as he removes his shirt. I take a deep breath as I watch him, his skin has a slight tan and his back is smooth, the muscles in his shoulders and arms look hard and tight. He has a large, black tribal tattoo running down the right side of his body. I take another sharp breath as he drops his trousers, bending over to remove them from his feet, he is wearing tight, white briefs, stretching across his arse, snugging his balls tight to his body. My cock stiffens more and I can feel pre-cum leaking from the tip as he stands and folds his trousers to place them in the locker. His legs have dark hair over defined muscles and I can now see a small patch of hair in the centre of his lower back just above the waistband of his briefs.

I’m staring in awe of his fucking hot body, built like a fit rugby player. He suddenly turns and sits down on the bench to remove his socks. We are now facing each other and I continue to pretend that I’m drying my feet, feeling my face flush at the thought he may have caught me staring at him.

“It’s quiet here in the morning,” he says, his deep, gruff voice sending shivers down my spine.

“Yeah, I’m usually the only guy around and there’s two women here regularly,” I reply, trying to keep the excitement showing in my voice.

As he stands, he slides his briefs off, balancing on one foot to remove them. My eyes scan his body, his pecs toned, covered in thick, dark hair, which runs down the centre of his chest, over his taut abs, meeting a thick patch of pubic hair nestled around his seven-inch uncut cock. His large, hairy balls hang between his thighs. I know I’m staring at his sexy hot body, but I can’t seem to look away.

Buy your copy on Amazon or read it in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Amazon CA | Amazon IN

About the Author

alogoB.J. enjoys writing MM Erotic Fantasy to tease and entertain his readers. Having experienced many of the situations in real life he brings these into his books. Preferring to have mature characters in the stories, escaping the cliché of college boy romance.

I Hope you read and enjoy my MM Erotic books as much as I enjoy writing them.

If you already enjoy MM books or are just curious about MM love. Why not have a browse of the books, you may surprise yourself.

Follow the rainbow to your dreams.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BJSmythAuthor

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BJSmythAuthor

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J. Phillip Elwes – Author Interview

My guest on the blog today is erotic author J. Phillip Elwes — he’s here to talk about his new book, Pyewacket, Pyewacket!


Over the weekend, I had a chance to chat with J. Phillip — here’s our conversation:

Tell us about Pyewacket, Pyewacket.

This is the blurb:

Pyewacket, Pyewacket is a gay erotic, paranormal thriller about nineteen-year-old Grant Webb, who must leave his remote fishing town in northeastern Canada to search for his grandmother reported missing in Vallejo, California. On his first night in town, Grant questions his grip on reality, as he has an otherworldly encounter. When he inadvertently casts a spell to locate his grandmother, he realizes he’s a fledgling warlock. To save his grandmother, he joins other warlocks and witches in an epic battle against an ancient evil, that, at long last, has within its reach its most coveted prize, Grant himself.

I’d also add that it is certainly about magic and sexuality, but even more about the transformative power of love, as Grant discovers his true self on the battlefield.

Sounds super interesting! What was your inspiration for this book?

The story popped into my head in late December, 2015, when I was between gigs and thought I’d be spending the next two weeks working on an entirely different gay erotic story.

Earlier that summer in San Francisco’s Mission District, I’d almost daily walked past street art depicting a boy wearing a gas mask, around which were the words: “I am the beat of a thousand purple butterflies.” I’d slow down to read those words and, even after the art piece had been painted over, kept wondering what it was saying.Purple-Butterlies-Street-Art

Around that same time, I saw photographs taken in the 1850’s of California’s old State Capitol building in Vallejo, a town about 30 miles north of San Francisco. I’ve been to the Vallejo Transit Center in downtown Vallejo, where the enormous building had once stood. A plaque embedded in the sidewalk there marks the building’s former location. I read online that the building burned to the ground under mysterious circumstances in the early morning hours of April 20, 1859.

I thought nothing else of this until the end of 2015, when I was on Tumblr and stumbled upon a fashion spread of male models nearly covered from head to toe in beautiful tattoos. I instantly recalled the mysterious fate of the old State Capitol building and wondered how men like these might be involved. All of my stories–gay erotica and otherwise–center on the pivotal transformation of the main character. I wanted my first novel-length, gay erotic story to be on a grand scale. And, suddenly, I knew how men like these were going to be a part of that story: immortal warlocks battling each other and magical creatures!

The inspiration for how the book itself is written comes from a dream I had years ago. In it, I was watching a crowd of people, then narrating aloud what each person was doing just before I saw my hand writing down on a page in a book what everyone was doing. That might sound like a typical dream for a writer, but that “transitional” imagery has stayed with me. And that is how Grant narrates Pyewacket, Pyewacket.

How does this differ from what you’ve written before?

It’s my first gay erotic story featuring magic, which is one of my great passions. My parents observed when I was quite young that I was obsessed with any movie or TV show featuring magic. I love that the addition of magical elements has the ability to elevate a story to a grand scale. Pyewacket, Pyewacket is certainly about a battle between good and evil magical forces, but it is even more about the search for love and the transformative power of love.

At thirteen chapters, it is my first novel. I enjoyed being with Grant for over half a year to write his story.

I know you have experience in other forms of writing, including screenplay writing–How has this other experience influenced writing gay erotic fiction?

Writing screenplays, which must be formatted in a very particular manner, helped me find my voice as a writer, frankly. Screenplays have a word limit around 10,000 words. They are very visual: you only see and hear what happens in a film. As a screenwriter, I learned to strip away any ornamental aspirations I had as a writer and to hone my style until I could precisely describe what was happening moment by moment, from start to end, to tell a story.

With screenplays, I regularly bumped against that word count of 10,000 words until it dawned on me one day to tell a story in as few words as possible.

I like to think that’s now my writing style with screenplays, my gay erotic stories and everything I write, actually.

Can you give us a glimpse of one of the sexiest scenes in this book?

There are quite a few sexy scenes in Pyewacket, Pyewacket.

You can read here (http://jpelwes.tumblr.com/post/149767992862/pyewacket-pyewacket) on my Tumblr the entire first chapter, in which Grant has his first sexual encounter, which happens to be with the greatest pitcher in the history of professional baseball. In the next chapter, Grant is rescued from an embarrassing situation by a nice fellow. They get to know one another and have a couple of sexy scenes throughout the day. Grant’s encounter with the baseball player has made him wonder if his trip to Vallejo is making him unstable. At the end of his first day in Vallejo, he falls asleep alone in bed at his grandmother’s house. And this happens next:

I awoke later that night to a motorcycle rumbling on York Street.

When I realized it was idling outside the house, I slipped out of bed to peek past the gauzy curtain covering the wide bay window.

My heart skipped a beat, when I spotted directly across the street a man seated on a bike parked in the white circle of a street lamp. I watched him pull off his helmet and look up and down the street, like he was trying to remember something. He had cropped, blond hair, a high forehead, straight nose, and bushy beard. His mustache hid his lips. He strongly resembled the rugged fishermen I enjoyed watching come ashore in Cow Head.

The man turned his head to peer up at me in the window.

Surprised, I took a step back, though I was certain he couldn’t see me.

He again looked up and down the street, switched off his bike, then rose off his seat long enough to dip his hand down the front of his blue jeans to adjust himself.

At that, my cock instantly erected, popping out of the fly of my boxers.

Is everyone horny as fuck in California? I wondered, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. Or is it just Vallejo?

When he looked back up at my window, I giddily pushed aside the curtain before I knew what I was doing. I bent over to slip off my boxers, then straightened up, naked and hard for his viewing pleasure, somehow certain he was as aroused as me.

He squared his shoulders and put his helmet down on the bike’s fuel tank, his eyes never leaving me.

When he gave me an encouraging nod, I lost my mind. I furiously jacked off. I closed my eyes and imagined him sliding off his motorcycle to march across the street and run up the stairs to my bedroom.

His blue eyes never left mine, as he wordlessly stripped out of his clothes to stand naked and rock hard with me. He was a head taller and very muscular. He looked more than twice my age and was hands down the most handsome man I’d stood in the same room with.

He noisily tried to catch his breath, while I ran my hands over his hairy abdomen and chest. His red nipples fully erected under my swirling fingertips. He obligingly flexed his biceps, while I ran my hands over them. I was delighted by his hairy forearms and the coarse thicket of hair in his armpits.

He turned his head to watch over his shoulder, as I walked around him to draw my fingers over the rippling muscles of his back, over the twin globes of his pale ass. I traced my finger along his hairy ass crack to touch his anus a moment before he turned around to face me.

He kneaded my shoulders in his fists and stared into my eyes.

I took him by the testicles, exploring his heavy scrotum with relish, and watched his rigid, uncircumcised cock jounce this way and that. Now most certainly a connoisseur of cock, I had no trouble appreciating the veins crisscrossing his thick shaft, the shapeliness of his very red, very shiny crown. I found his surprisingly large piss slit so appealing, I wanted to lick it to coax out his pre-cum.

I tightened my grip around his testicles at the same time I ran my other hand through his dense, unkempt triangle of pubic hair.

He lowered his hand to make a fist around my throbbing erection at the same time I closed my hand around his member.

We furiously jerked each other off.

As he leaned forward to kiss my lips, I felt the powerful contractions of his orgasm, felt his semen spurt in rapid fire against my belly and chest.

I let out a moan, feeling my load rising fast.

I opened my eyes wide to watch him hunch convulsively over his motorcycle, his chin straining toward his chest, as he pounded his fist against the bike’s handlebar.

“He’s really coming!” I nearly shouted at the bay window, ejaculating while doing my best to catch my load in the palm of my other hand.

I was rocked by one of the most intense orgasms of my life.

Some time later, when the euphoria swirling around my brain had ebbed away, I looked at the pool of semen in my hand, then down at the man now sitting calmly on his motorcycle.

He was staring up at me in the window.

As if reading his mind, I somehow knew he wanted me to come downstairs and open the door. He wanted to march into the foyer and lick my hand clean. He wanted to shuck his jeans and boxers to his knees, so I could lick his load off his genitals. As profoundly as I wanted to taste his sperm, his cock, his scrotum, his butthole, he was ten times more undone by his desire to kiss me, taste my lips, roll his tongue over mine. He wanted to be naked with me in my bed. He wanted to hold me in his arms. He wanted to whisper in my ear about the coven.

Coven? I thought, suddenly reaching for the gauzy curtain, as I shook my head at him. Vallejo is turning out to be crazier than me!

I jerked the curtain across the window, then held my breath, until he slipped on his helmet and started his motorcycle.

I didn’t leave the window until he had turned onto Montgomery Street and disappeared toward Georgia.

I walked down the hallway. I didn’t turn on the bathroom light while I washed my hands.

I then returned to my room, slipped into bed and stared at the decorative medallion where the overhead light dropped from the ceiling. I wondered what connection, if any, the motorcycle rider had in Grandmother’s disappearance. Why had he been idling his bike outside her house? Had a Tarot-card reading gone horribly wrong? Was he her stalker? Her kidnapper? Nothing was making sense, especially my having an intense sexual encounter with him via a crazy-as-hell mind meld. The more I doubted any of it had actually happened, though, the more vividly I recalled every detail of my bizarre psychic connection with him.

I’m losing my mind, I thought, squeezing my member now throbbing in my fist. I again felt the surprising intensity with which he had wanted to be naked with me in my bed, holding me in his arms, as he told me about the coven.

I fell asleep while playing over and over in my mind how earnestly he’d stared into my eyes while kneading my shoulders.

Very sexy! I see you’ve written a few gay erotica books now; how has the process of writing and publishing changed for you over the years?

I wrote by hand my first gay erotic story, then made front and back covers for it and carefully bound it all together with red yarn. I later wrote stories with a word processor that had a tiny viewing screen. Then, at long last, I bought a laptop in the 1990’s, which made writing a snap. I used to write in Word. Now, I prefer writing in a Text file, which is easy to edit, then transfer into whatever formats are required.

I wrote my first gay erotic short stories in the 1980’s and 90’s, when the only outlets for such stories were gay skin magazines and a handful of book publishers. It took time to research how to properly submit stories to each one, then several stamps to mail them off. Weeks and months would pass before I knew if any had been accepted. The payments were typically just okay. And in the decades before the internet, my stories in magazines and books were almost immediately destined for oblivion if I didn’t promote them while submitting new stories to publishers.

The internet has changed everything, of course. My Tumblr and Twitter accounts promote my stories and make me personally available to fans and potential publishers. Sites like Goodreads introduce even more readers to my work. Over the last two years, I’ve self-published four books on Amazon, which is so easy to use, I wish I had started self-publishing ten years ago. I like that I can track in real time how each book is selling, which promotions had an impact, etc. And I enjoy being paid at the end of every month.

I’m curious about the cover for Pyewacket, Pyewacket – can you tell us why you chose a photo of butterfly wings?

For that cover, I chased butterflies around my backyard for several weeks, taking 101 photographs before I had enough images I liked in order to assemble the cover image. Grant is baffled for much of the story by the clouds of orange butterflies that assemble around him. The reader will have to follow Grant’s adventure to discover alongside him, at his darkest hour, why the butterflies appear.

What have you found to be some of the upsides and downsides of self-publishing?

Upsides: I approve the final version of the book; and all of the royalties come to me.

Downsides: I must do all of the promotion, which includes Twitter, Tumblr and reaching out to reviewers on their blogs and at sites like Goodreads; and I approve the final version of the book (which means all the typos are my fault–and which furthermore means I generally revisit a published book at least once for another round of edits). I like that publishers have their own promotional operations set up and their own editors. I dislike that my royalties are much less with publishers than if I self-publish on Amazon.

What’s next for J. Phillip Elwes?

I have in mind an idea that could be the sequel to Pyewacket, Pyewacket, but it’s not yet fully formed.

In the near future, I intend to return to the gay erotic novel I was working on before Pyewacket, Pyewacket suddenly took center stage. That story will bring back many of the characters from my gay erotic stories prior to Pyewacket, Pyewacket, and is told over twenty years from the point of Liam, who is the photographer’s assistant in my gay erotic short story, “Anything But Everything.”

I also plan to write a gay erotic detective series set in Vallejo, California. The main character is Jason Morgan, who is the love interest in my gay erotic short story, “The First of the Month.” More than twenty years have passed since we last saw Jason. He’s now recently widowed and becomes a reluctant detective in the first book as he comes to the aid of friend accused of murder.

These projects are definitely on the burner, though I am finding myself increasingly distracted by photographs of a professional athlete covered in tattoos. I wonder if another novella or novel is about to announce itself.

It was fun talking with you, Cameron. Take care and happy reading!

And thank you for stopping by!

Pyewacket-Pyewacket-by-J-Phillip-Elwes-smallPyewacket, Pyewacket is available on Amazon.com.

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