Confessions of my love affair...

I admit...I've got a problem. I'm talking about my obsession and sworn allegiance to...

No...I'm not ending sentences on a cliffhanger to make you continue reading...*giggles* The answer was in the sentence above...let's recap... 

I'm talking about my obsession and sworn allegiance to...

Yeah...those damn ellipses...they can tie me up and lick me down and redden my assets and I'll still come back and ask for more...*heads desk*

Now I've gotten some slack for the way I type...some *waves hand in air* shall we say negative feedback? Why must I use ellipses...or dashes (any kind of dash—I'm an equal opportunity dasher baby) while I'm simply chit chatting...why do I do so many stage directions *gasps* while I am typing? Why...why—why *heads desk giggling*

Because...I like it like that...ha!

Well that...and the fact that I'm Italian and if you ever meet me in person you will see I'm huge on talking with my hands. While I'm driving I have to constantly be reminded that hands belong on the steering wheel—not waving and splaying and air spanking...evidently that is bad...lmao

But when I'm typing—whether it is here on a blog...or on Facebook (and oh boy am I addicted to that place *face palm*)...or chatting with friends—I'm always using ellipses, dashes and stage directions. It's a way for me to express my personality through simple words...a way to show you that I'm pausing for dramatic effect (I do love being melodramatic...trust me on this one...lol) or to allow my mind to split off on different tangents while still staying in the same conversation (a personal fave of mine too...my daddy used to say that talking to me was like watching words shoot out of my mouth and having to string them together to keep up with my thought process *innocent smile*) and evidently I'll add parenthesis to my growing love affair...*heads desk giggling* 

Now...do I allow this to run on over into my professional writing? Hmmm...sure, to a certain extent. I know I have to be careful of my ellipse and dash usage in my WIPs...otherwise my editor will have a thing or two to say to me...hehe...so I think I overcompensate with commas...

I will go on record right now as saying I do NOT have a love affair with commas...it's more of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am type of relationship only when I'm writing...as soon as the editing starts they storm off all huffy puffy with plans to ravage me again when a new WIP crosses my mind...those sneaky little freakers...hehe

Now...for anyone who knows me (and at least partially loves/likes me...*eye roll*) they know that my true master...the one that can really make me kneel and beg for it...is ellipses...

*rereads blog post and sighs* and evidently I'm not gonna get over this affair anytime soon...*winks and giggles*

This was previously published on the braZen authors blogsite last year. But I really really like this blog and wanted to share again...hehe *winks*

Story Orgy Monday

Whoo Hoo! It's my week for the Story Orgy blogpost! I'm totally stoked. I can't wait to begin my writing again. I just recently completed my capstone class for my MBA and couldn't be happier. Now I can spend more time on all my unfinished projects. The following story came to me as I was trying to figure out a way to promote my new song. So, I hope you enjoy the short story as well as my song if you decide to purchase it. You can buy the single for only .99 cents. Here we go. Let's try something new.

A Song for the Soul

Trevor punched Terry right in the gut, leaving his ex on the floor trying to catch his breath. "Just get the fuck out of my house and don't come back until I have your stuff ready for you to pick up."

Terry struggled to a stand with his hand on this chest. "Fine. You've made your point. But, can I at least get a few of my things now? Like my toothbrush? That'd be nice don't you think?"

Trevor pointed down the hallway to the bathroom while throwing an empty beer carton at Terry." Here, put your bathroom stuff in here and take my duffle bag for some clothes. Just hurry the fuck up. I'm sick of seeing your face. What you did to me makes my stomach turn and my skin crawl. You disgust me, asshole."

Terry tossed the beer box across the room. "You're duffle bag is all I need. Calm down. I'm going, I'm going."

"Calm down? You're asking me to calm down. You fucked another dude after you said I was your only one! You said you loved me. You're just a player. No, you're not even good enough to be a player. You're just a liar. A fucking dumbass liar at that."

Terry scrambled about, collecting the things he'll need for at least a few days.

"Hurry your sorry ass up. You'll be fine. You're going to your momma's house anyway." Trevor stomped across the room to the wet bar and made him a martini. He couldn't help but shake his head, fighting back the tears. Don't cry. Don't cry. Trevor did his best to hold onto his anger. The last thing he wanted was for Terry to see him cry. Trevor's heart was broken, but he knew he couldn't allow himself to feel that way. He had to be strong. Trevor thought about the song Terry had written and made for him. Trevor had the song on his MP3 as well as his laptop and PC.

Trevor did his best to ignore his thoughts of taking him back. "No, I can't do that. Never will I allow myself to be anything less than my partner. My partner will be equal," Trevor mumbled to himself as he plugged in his laptop and sat on the sofa.

"What was that?" Terry called from the back of the house.

"Just talking to myself. Just get your shit and go." Trevor yelled back.

As Trevor began to play the song Terry had made for him, his heart melted, leaving him with the pain he'd tried so hard to hide. Tears rolled down his cheek as the song played discretely in his ear buds. Damnit. I knew I shouldn't have played that song. 

Trevor caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of his eye. He quickly swiped the tears from his face and turned. "What? You're not gone yet?"

"I'm on my way out. I just wanted to let your know that I still care for you and love you deeply. I accept my mistake and respect your decision. But, it will be a long time before I'm over you. It may not seem like it now, but you're the best thing that had every happened to me." Terry continued his spiel.

As soon as Trevor could get a word in, he said, "Terry. Sit." He firmly slapped the cushion next to him. "We've been together for how long?"

"Six years." Terry said with a smile. "And, by the way, that bit about me cheating on you. That was never true. First, I wanted to distract you. I know. It could've been with better taste. But, that's beside the point. We're as good now as we ever were." Terry pushed the button on the stereo remote and set the surround sound.

As soon as the tune filled the room, Trevor let the tears fall. "You do love me. You really do."

"Come on in guys!" Terry called.

A group of friends came in through the back door, "Happy Anniversary!"

Trevor buried his face into Terry's shoulder, wiping his tears on Terry's shirt. "I don't know what to say."

"Well, I know what I want to say. I love you and there's not a single soul I want to be connected to and that's yours." Terry turned up the song and started singing it, as if serenading.

The crowd sang along and Trevor gave Terry a passionate kiss and said he was sorry for even believing such rubbish. Trevor rubbed Terry's belly and said, "Are you okay. I hit you pretty hard."

"I'll survive. Now, let's dance. After all, this is your song."

Trevor reached his arms around Terry, stood, and swayed slowly to the music. Trevor whispered, "I love you too."

*****

Thank you all for taking the time to read this. By the way, there is really a song that was written by me and dedicated to Nicholas. The song is being sold under my real name James Boyd. If you're interested in hearing the song and supporting my expenses to have it mastered, the links are below. 

My song is the 11^th song on the album titled Lonely Miles. The name of the song is My Soul's Song. It was written about my love for Nicholas. The song is only .99 cents and any purchases would be most encouraging and thoughtful; Ratings would also be a nice feature. Thank you.  

Here are the links:

iTunes:
https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/lonely-miles/id640631512

Amazon.com/MP3:

http://www.amazon.com/Lonely-Miles/dp/B00CJ0LS2I/ref=sr_shvl_album_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1366990266&sr=301-4

My Turn Again?...

Good morning! Grab your coffee and come on in, sit a spell. I've started a new project, something a little bit different for me, and well. Since you're here, I thought maybe you'd like a little advance sneak peek at it.

Not going to shilly-shally around much either, because, I"m kind of anxious to get back into it, you know? 

This Dan Skinner photo is part of the inspiration for this piece....

Every Note

Chapter One

Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine was Casey Addison's favorite book. It had held that place of honor since a sophomore English teacher made it assigned reading to her sixth period advanced placement class. In the twenty years since he'd read it the first time, he'd never been without a copy, some battered thrift store finds, others hard-backed and leather bound. He'd worn out more copies of Dandelion Wine than Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven. He'd even traveled to California to have a copy signed at the Long Beach Festival of books by the great man himself. The novel was an unusual choice, but the single scene that cemented it forever in Casey's memory was a short passage in which the main character realized he was alive.

Casey revered that scene because he could pinpoint the exact moment in his own life when he realized he was alive. It wasn't anything so poetically prosaic as picking grapes on a beautiful summer day. It wasn't anything special at all, just another new school in another new town that his parents had moved them all to. Then again, it was the exact moment he realized he was gay, and in love.

He'd walked into yet another new classroom in yet another new school, and his eyes landed on another boy, and for the first time ever Casey realized that air rushed through his nostrils to his lungs. Before that moment he'd breathed. Presumably for the prior twelve years of his life he'd done his small part to keep the balance between oxygen and carbon dioxide stable.

But for the first time his breath caught in his throat and he was forced to actually think about what had always been an involuntary action before.

Not only that, but he became aware of a thundering beat in his ears that had all the rhythm and twice the speed of his favorite drummer of all time, Neil Peart. Later he realized that pounding beat was his heart racing, just as the strange roar in his ears wasn't a crowd at a concert but his blood stinging its way through his veins to make his skin prickle and his arm hair stand on end.

Worst of all, his pecker just stood right up and poked at the front of his board shorts like God and everybody wasn't standing there eyeing him with all the disdain a class full of strangers could muster.

Embarrassed, he flung himself into the first available seat, and trained his gaze steadily on the white board at the front of the room. Even the rambling lines of purple ink weren't enough to vanquish the image of the boy who'd caused his world to spin on its axis. Over long white blond hair, golden tan skin, gold tipped thick lashes fringing vibrant green eyes…that image lurked in his thirteen year old mind with as much intensity as though they stood nose to nose.

Meeting Dylan Salisbury had been the changing point in his life. He'd become alive in that moment. Forever after he might forget sometimes that he breathed, but never in Dylan's presence. 

Thanks for reading! Check back next week when I am not really sure who will be here, but some Story Orgiasts will be popping by with a bit of something to wet your appetite! 

Ebook Trailers

Hello everybody.

I hope you're having a fabulous Monday...

Somebody told me  (Jade - yea, I had to say my name, I mean how you would have known it was me otherwise, right?) it was my turn to find something to post. And I must confess that my mind went totaly blank when I heard it. My turn? You're sure? But...but I didn't think about anything!!!

So I looked at the past posts, trying to find an idea... yes, you see my problem now, don't you? The Story Orgy members were promoting their books... because they are writers... logical, right? But me? I'm not a writer, and I don't have anything to promote.

*Sighs*

Then, I found it! I was going to promote them! But I had to find a special way to do it.

After more time spending to think about it, I decided to make trailers for their latest releases.

So there... Hope you'll like them. I put all the love I have for my SO family in them, and I certainly hope it will show.

Unfortunatly, I can't post the vids here (don't ask me why, I'm stupid in front of this "technology") so I'll post the links. You'll just have to follow them...

 

Cowboys & Vampires - Hank Edwards

One Buck'n Holiday - JR Boyd

Wicked Bindings - Havan Fellows

Unforgettable - Lee Brazil

Enough For Him - Em Woods

Well, that's it. Enjoy your week!
Jade

 

Oooh, it's my turn? Okay! How about a contest??

Hi everyone, Em here! Sorry this is coming to you so late on Monday, but better late than never, right? And what can I do to make it up to you? How about....give you the goods on my next release and offer a contest??

Sound good? Great!

Well, here's the scoop! I have a new release coming out (it's up for pre-order right now at TEB: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?P_ID=2081)...wanna know more? Here you go:

'Flowers for Him' by Marie Sexton and Rowan Speedwell

He wanted to learn about beauty. He never expected to learn about love.

Billionaire Chandler Harrison’s third marriage is now history, and he’s left with his ex-wife’s parting barb, "You have no appreciation of beauty." Determined to prove her wrong, Chandler hires artist Neil Sweeney to add a mural to his office wall. He doesn’t even care what the picture is, as long as it’s beautiful.

Neil Sweeney is an ex-tagger, a free spirit, and a bit of a hippie. He’s never met anybody as uptight as Chandler, but when it comes to warming up Chandler’s cold, stark office, Neil has plans involving more than art.

Chandler begins to find himself strangely moved by the mural developing on his office wall. He’s especially moved by the artist himself. Chandler has denied his homosexual urges for most of his life, but it isn’t long before Neil begins introducing Chandler to all kinds of new things. As Neil’s masterpiece comes to life, so does Chandler’s appreciation for art, colour, and the best kind of beauty of all—love.

'Vital To Him' by SL Majors

Hot sex in the back of a limo? Billionaire Brenton Marston is stunned when his street-wise chauffeur welcomes him home in a way he never expected, and Brenton wonders who is really in the driver’s seat.

No fraternising…

Billionaire Brenton Marston has rules meant to keep the boundaries clear. He respects his employees and never wants anyone to feel as if they owe him anything.

Robert Silles, the reformed hoodlum, has desired his boss for years. Robert has fantasised about introducing Mr Marston to the pleasures of man-on-man sex, fucking him and sucking him until he forgets his numerous stresses.

When his trusted chauffeur suggests a hook-up, Brenton is stunned, but he knows he shouldn’t be. No one knows him better than the man who’s seen him at his best as well as his worst.

It shouldn’t surprise him that Silles knows him and his innermost secrets. In fact, Silles recognised the truth before Brenton ever did.

Silles’ suggestive offer turns Brenton on. Damn if he isn’t attracted to this broad, handsome, sexy man, in a way he never wanted anyone else.

The question is, will Brenton push aside his inhibitions and reservations? Will he allow his chauffeur to give him what he craves? Will he willingly surrender to the orders of his servant?

Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of M/M, rimming, anal sex, spanking with leather belt and hand and sex outdoors

'Fly to Him' by J.P. Bowie

A young flight attendant gets a billionaire’s attention in a way that could have meant the end of his career, but instead could be the beginning of an unexpected romance.

When Kevin Tate takes over for a friend as flight attendant on billionaire Logan Maguire’s private jet, he is certain it will be his one and only time aboard when he accidentally dumps an ice-cold drink on his employer’s lap. Instead, an instant attraction flares between the two men and Kevin accepts Logan’s offer to stay with him at his villa in Puerta Vallarta.

Their fledging romance is abruptly brought to an end when Logan hurries back to the States on a desperate mission to save his company from a hostile takeover. Kevin is left wondering if success and wealth is more important to the billionaire than the chance of love and real happiness.

'Enough For Him' by Em Woods

When secrets come to light, two men must realise that, despite their fears, the love they have really is enough.

When software mogul Shannon Murphy is requested to appear at an international convention to accept an innovation award, he’s honoured. But when the invitation arrives and requires the attendance of his fictional partner, he needs a plan. There is only one man he wants, one man he trusts, to help him. He turns to personal assistant and best friend Noah Greene.

Noah isn’t sure if this is his most secret desire come true, or his worst nightmare. Once the media connects them in a relationship, no secret will be safe, and Noah is positive that Shannon won’t be comfortable in the reflected spotlight of a recovering gambling addict. Unable to turn away his friend, Noah decides to do this one favour for Shannon before sacrificing everything he’s worked so hard to build and walking away.

'Surrendered To Him' by Sara York

When the storm hits, everything changes. Will shifting priorities lead to a shift in life, or will Storm Bennett abandon his heart's desires?

Storm rules the Bennett Empire with an iron fist, never taking time to allow emotions into his life, leaving him looking like the bad guy in the media over and over again. When a typhoon hits the island where one of his hotels is located, he sees it as a chance to repair his damaged reputation.

On the island, nothing is as it should be. Storm meets Keoni, a native, who challenges everything Storm knows about relationships, family and love. Keoni is blown away by Storm but wants the man so badly he can taste it.

Can he risk his newfound peace, giving a part of himself to Storm, or will he stay detached, allowing love to slip away?


'Designs For Him' by Noelle Keaton

Normally all business when it comes to his career, Jon finds the lines between the professional and the personal getting blurred after falling in love with billionaire CEO Warren

After months of unemployment, Jon Pritchard finds work with Cressen Furniture, the 'American Ikea', in a low-level job. A software program he creates in his free time attracts the interest of Warren Cressen, the interim CEO of Cressen Furniture, who quickly gives Jon a promotion.

The attraction between the two men is undeniable, and it isn’t long before they act on it, though they agree to be discreet until Warren’s position as CEO is made permanent.

Their relationship grows serious, but it is tested when evidence is discovered that seems to point to Jon being a corporate spy and Warren starts to wonder if he hasn't been used all along.

With the highest professional stakes on the line, Jon and Warren have to decide whether the professional success they share in the boardroom is worth sacrificing the passion they share in the bedroom.

***

What do you think? Leave a comment between now and Sunday 4/21 about what you do if promoted by a billionaire to be entered to win your own copy of this kickin' anthology! Winner will be announced next Monday. :)

Roughing It

Hi everyone. Hank Edwards here, bringing you some fun and heat to help get you through Monday. I'm currently camped out in front of the TV with the laptop, watching "Hope Springs," the movie with Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones and Steve Carrell. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it. It's all about Meryl and Tommy Lee, a couple married for 31 years, who visit an intensive couples therapist to try and recover the intimacy in their marriage.

The movie got me thinking about how lucky I am to have a partner I have fun with, someone I'm in love with, and who makes me feel like the most important person in the world.

And it also made me think about my hard headed, and hard loving, mystery solving couple, FBI agent Aaron Pearce and former station chef / cater cook Mark Beecher. The guys are coming back for a third adventure, something sure to rev your engines and get your heart racing. Sex, suspense, and danger in a tropical locale. Get ready for the third book of the newly named Up to Trouble series, Roughed Up, available from Loose Id on May 7. Read some of the first chapter below, and be sure to mark your calendars!

Roughed Up

Up to Trouble 3

By Hank Edwards

Chapter One

The sand felt good beneath Mark’s head. The cool, fine grains provided a stark contrast to the scratch of Pearce’s stubble that pleasantly scraped Mark’s lips as they kissed. Soft, persistent waves rolled up on the beach several yards away, and somewhere even farther off—back at the hotel bar, most likely—a woman’s loud, drunken laugh floated on the breeze. An hour ago they had watched the sun set from a small table in the hotel bar while eating shrimp and downing drink specials. Finally Pearce had suggested a moonlit walk on the beach, and Mark had happily agreed.

“You taste like mango,” Pearce said between kisses.

“Those margaritas you kept pushing on me,” Mark replied.

“I seem to remember you placing those orders,” Pearce murmured, then pushed his tongue into Mark’s mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. He pressed a wide, warm palm against Mark’s erection, still trapped within his board shorts, and they moaned together.

Pearce ducked his head to put his lips right next to Mark’s ear and whispered, “Want you.” He followed that up by corkscrewing his tongue into the sensitive canal.

“Me too,” Mark said around a gasp. “God, I love when you do that.”

Pearce slipped his hand up the leg of Mark’s shorts to grope his balls and his throbbing, needy cock.
Mark pulled away and smiled in nervous surprise at Pearce before turning to look up and down the beach. “You want to do it here?”

Pearce looked around the beach as well, then grinned like a mischievous college frat boy when he met Mark’s gaze again. “There’s no one around. Besides, we’re on an island vacation; it’s a rule that we have to have sex on the beach at some point.”

“Oh, is that a rule?” Mark chuckled. “I guess I missed hearing that when we checked in.”

“I definitely heard it.” Pearce kissed him. “I think the woman said it two times at least.” Another kiss.
“In different positions.”

Mark felt a little light-headed, mostly from the mango margaritas he’d drunk at the hotel bar, but also from the persuasion of Pearce’s kisses. Goddamn, but Pearce could kiss. He found a shred of resistance left and pulled back to say, “You know Barbados has strict laws against homosexual acts.”

“Yeah?” Pearce grumbled. “So did my prom date’s brother, but he blew me behind the school.”

Mark shook his head. “What does that have to do with anything we’re discussing?”

“God, you’re so wet,” Pearce whispered, smearing the precum around the head of Mark’s cock with his index finger, his lips just brushing Mark’s. “Let’s flip-flop right here. You fuck me, and then I’ll fuck you.” Another kiss, stronger, hungrier. “I want your cock in my ass. I want to feel your cum drip down my thigh while we walk back to the room.”

Mark’s cock jumped in Pearce’s fist at the image he planted in his head.

“You’re killing me,” he said.

“Come on. It’s our first vacation together.”

Mark smiled up at him. “You mean your trip to Detroit at the beginning of the year wasn’t a vacation?”
Pearce pulled his hand from Mark’s shorts, grabbed him by the shoulder, and rolled them both over so Mark now lay on top.

“No,” Pearce said and held Mark’s head between his hands, eyes shifting as he studied Mark’s face. “I think it was fate.”

Fuck. Pearce really knew how to get to him. When the man said romantic things like that, Mark melted. And Pearce knew it, the bastard.

“You are such a liar,” Mark said and kissed him hard.

“Not at all,” Pearce managed before their tongues tangled together.

Pearce lifted his hips and reached down to slide off his shorts. He hadn’t worn underwear since they’d arrived—neither of them had—and the hot, solid length of his cock pressed against Mark’s hip. Mark reached down to take hold of it, squeezed it, and then lifted his hips so Pearce could slip off his shorts as well.

The ocean breeze on his bare ass excited Mark, but he was still nervous and broke their kiss to rise up and peer each way along the beach. No one in sight. Did people on Barbados just sit in bars and drink at night? No one walked the beach?

“And you claimed you’d never had sex in public before.” Pearce stroked Mark’s cock. “You’re hard as rock.”

“You’re a bad influence.”

Pearce grinned up at him before unbuttoning Mark’s camp shirt. “Bet you say that to all the FBI agents you fuck.”

Mark shrugged out of his shirt, then lowered his head to take Pearce’s dick between his lips. His familiar taste—a mix of sweat, soap, and that special spice that was uniquely Aaron Pearce—surged along his tongue. Mark paused, his mouth filled with Pearce’s cock and the ocean breeze trailing over his bare skin. The waves continued their sonorous rolls, and the quiet strains of a reggae band floated from somewhere down the beach.

Like the preview? Click on over to my author page at Loose Id on May 7 and grab a copy for yourself. 

Story Orgy Monday - Someone like Brian

Good morning and Happy Monday to you all. I hope this blog post is finding you warm and well. It is also my hope that everyone enjoys their upcoming Easter weekend. It's approaching fast! 

Below is a story I wrote for this week's Story Orgy post. Someone like Brian was inspired by a bad morning I had in my class Strategic Planning and Implementation class. It wasn't pretty at all. I delved into a story and this is what I came up with. So, sit back with your favorite beverage and enjoy the short story. 

Someone like Brian

Jerry McCann sat in his office grading papers and sipping his morning coffee when someone knocked on the door.

"Office hours are from two pm to four pm. Come back then." Jerry thought his irritable tone would surely deter the visitor.

Another knock prompted the music teacher to stand and make a bee line for his office door. He swung  the door with a disgruntled greeting. "What? Can't you see the hours posted?” Jerry pointed to the sign on his door.

"Well, yes. I see your sign Mr. McCann, but I'm the pianist." The man said with a country accent as he held out his hand. "Brian Dennison's my name. You invited me to speak to your class and this is the only time I have to chat with you before I do." Brian's kindness was undesirable at that time. Not at seven in the morning.

"I'm still having my first cup of coffee. You'll have to excuse my petulance. Can I get you a cup? I reckon we can chat since you're already here." Jerry didn't wait for a response. He walked over to his coffee pot and poured a cup. "Sugar and cream is here if you need it." Jerry left the cup on the counter and rounded his desk. He sat, took a sip, and resumed grading his students' music sheets, waiting for Brian to make his move.

Jerry, distracted by handsome physique, watched Brian out of the corner of his eyes, admiring the stocky build and broad shoulders. Brian's ass filled out his jeans in every respect. Brian stirred cream and sugar into the coffee, dropped his stirrer in the trash, and sat across from Jerry.

Jerry shoved his paperwork aside and looked across the desk at the handsome man, wondering how his short, stubby fingers could play the piano without hitting the wrong keys.

"I wanted to discuss what your expectations are," Brian said as he rubbed a finger around the rim of his Styrofoam cup.

"Honestly, I merely needed a timeslot to catch up on some grading. My hope is that you can keep them occupied with your knowledge of music and instruments." Jerry shifted his eyes to a painting on the wall, trying not to stare at his guest. He turned to the window to take a look at the sunrise and sip his coffee. "How long have you been playing the piano?"

"Since I was a kid; about twenty-two years or so." Brian replied with a questioning undertone.

"I see. That makes you about thirty years old then, huh?" Jerry turned to face Brian again, taking a half seat on the edge of his desk.

"Somewhere around there." Brian chuckled. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Age doesn't matter at all. I was merely asking to entertain my thoughts." Jerry's eyes fixed on Brian's and he thought he'd fall off the desk right then and there. The pools of blue seemed to pull Jerry right in. A stirring in his groin distracted him altogether.

"Sir, are you alright?" Brian's attempt to engage again was admirable, but Jerry wanted more.

"Sir? Please don't call me that. You make me sound old." Jerry's mood lightened.

Jerry spun a pencil on his desk. "You don't have time for lunch today would you? You said you were busy. However, we could have more time to talk later. I'm about to–"

"I tell you what. I'll meet with you tomorrow for lunch. You don't have me scheduled for class for two more days. Since your office hours are from 2 to 4, we'll meet up around that time. I'll make arrangements with my boss."

"I thought you were your own boss. You're a pianist." Jerry cocked his head.

"I'm also a housekeeper." Brian's gaze dropped to the floor.

"Oh. What I hear you saying is you're a houseboy with a passion for playing the piano." Jerry slid from the desk and back into his chair.

"That pretty much sums it up. Okay, it's a date." Brian stood, shook Jerry's hand, and turned to leave.

"Wait."

Brian stopped, turned on his heels, and raised a brow. "Yes?"

"Oh. Never mind. It's not important. I'll see you tomorrow." Jerry gestured his goodbye with a hand in the air.

Jerry waited for the door to shut and tapped the desk with his pencil. Sheesh. He's got one hell of a country accent. I love it!

Jerry went through the rest of the day struggling to get the thought of Brian out of his head. He couldn't wait to get home so he didn't have to concentrate. Several hours passed and Jerry didn't linger. He didn't wait for the students. He beat them out the door for once. He kept going despite the bantering behind him.

Finally! Jerry unlocked the door to his condo, opening and closing it as fast as he could. He dropped his briefcase at the door and ran up the stairs, unbuttoning and tugging at his clothes all the way to his bedroom. Shucking them immediately, Jerry stood in front of his mirror with his cock in hand. He rubbed and massaged it to full erection. Jerry stroked his cock slow. No lube. No spit. Nothing. Only the thought of his stout new acquaintance.

Jerry tightened his grip, but kept his pace. He eased up on the hold each stroke he made, lightly touching around the head of his cock. Jerry's cocked ached for release. His ball sac contracted and his cock throbbed. Jerry jerked his head back, rocked onto his toes, and closed his eyes, taking pleasure in the much needed release.

Jerry raised his head upright and opened his eyes. He reveled at the smile on his face. It's been too long since I've felt this way. He swooped down and grabbed a dirty sock and wiped the cum that ran down the mirror.

Jerry was already making plans on how he wanted the lunch date to go the following day. 

****

What'd ya think? I know. It's short, but it works *grins*. Enjoy your week. I hope your week is as short as my story LOL, Lots o' love from Texas!