Author: indieerotica

Gay Family Incest Sex Mega-Bundle

Nothing makes gay sex hotter than doing it with your family.

Whether it’s brothers, fathers and sons, or even larger generational gaps, when these men get horny, nothing gets between them and what they crave most—the taboo bonding of sex with forbidden men.

Included in this taboo collection are the following stories:
- Son Makes Three
- Father’s Day with the Birthday Boy
- Christmas Day with the Virgin Butt
- Ben’s Big Butt Cake
- Ben’s Big Mouth
- Ben’s Big Boy Butt
- Ben’s Big Heart
- Ben’s Big Experience
- A Silver Daddy for Two
- A Twunk Top for Two
- A Related Pair for Two
- Sin
- Release
- Punishment

This 71,000-word mega-bundle will keep you up late into the night, scratching that taboo itch.

Publisher’s Note:
These stories were previously published individually, as well as in the following collections: “My Himbo Son is My Life”, “Beachboy Twink Twins”, and “Punishing My Himbo Slut Brother”.

Purchase Your Copy Now


Now, I realized Delfin had every right to learn about intimacy. Weird or not, I wanted to make things right by teaching him anything and everything, even if it meant letting him out into the world on his own one day, which Dad and I weren’t prepared for just yet.

Delfin moved away and pulled his T-shirt off his torso, tossing it onto the floor. Then, he pulled down his PJ bottoms and underwear and kicked them off his feet. “I’m naked…like you guys!”

Dad and I chuckled, and we gazed at my son with so much fondness. He was our pride and joy, and we were fiercely protective of him to the point of hurting anyone who’d hurt him. We caressed his naturally smooth and skinny body, mostly his chest. At eighteen, he was officially a twink, but he was also well-endowed from all the times I’d seen him. When I saw Dad rubbing Delfin’s right nipple with his thumb, I rubbed his left one. The goosebumps forming on his warm skin told me how much he wanted this. As long as he desired us like Dad and I started to, we’d make sure he felt good everywhere.

“Is this okay, baby boy?” I asked. “Can we do this to you?”

Delfin stifled a giggle and inhaled, as if trying to withstand what was probably ticklish to him. “Yeah. Feels good.”

“Yeah?” I said in a horny tone. I loved Dad with all my heart and desired him like no other man, but I’d recently started feeling a similar way for my own son. Dad seemed to have felt that way too, which made me relieved. Delfin was a man now, and given that his uncut cock was bigger than mine and Dad’s, he was definitely grown. I imagined his big balls were full of so much milk that needed to be released.

“Anytime you want to stop, you let us know, okay?” I said. God, I was so turned on by this. I wanted my own son in ways I’d never thought would happen.

Purchase Your Copy Now

Withdrawal (A Hero Ensnared #4)

Marcus, A.K.A. the archvillain Imperious, is not a man that takes “no,” for an answer. When Castor refuses to surrender himself mind, body, and soul to Marcus’ service, he ends up locked in an enchanted filigree chastity cage.

While he is able to resist the temptation for a while, his body’s needs eventually drive him up the wall, and only one man can give him what he needs. Despite his better judgment he approaches Marcus, principles and morals discarded for the need that’s eating him up from the inside.

Withdrawal is an 8,000-word short story and part four of a four-part series.

Purchase Your Copy Now


Again, Marcus shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want you to give yourself to me. Body, mind, and soul. Serve me at and for my pleasure.”

Castor gulped. His cock twitched. “What? Like a sex slave?”

Marcus smirked. “Like a sex slave.”

For once, Castor was able to shut down the arousal. The shock was too much. He gawped at Marcus for a moment, his mind spinning at the thought. “W-what the hell?!” he said. “N-no way!”

Despite how far he’d fallen, he still had some scruples. Just because he’d let his penis corrupt him into a filthy pervert didn’t mean he wanted to serve as a villain’s fucktoy.

Not that the prospect wasn’t tempting. His cock certainly made no secret of that. Despite having come only minutes before, he was starting to chub up again, and all because of Marcus’ offer.

Castor shook his head. No. He had to focus. This was a step too far and he couldn’t believe part of him was seriously considering it.

He hadn’t fallen that far, had he? Just because he didn’t consider himself a hero anymore didn’t mean he didn’t give a shit about the cause anymore.

But the idea was just so hot. He and the tiny voice in the back of his head agreed on that. He had to at least admit that.

But just because it was hot didn’t mean he had to do it. No. No. No matter how hard the prospect made him, that was a step he couldn’t take.

Marcus chuckled. It was almost predictable that he’d enjoy the conflict raging inside Castor. A villain through and through, no matter how handsome he looked.

“Do you mean to tell me you are happy with the way things are?” said Marcus.

Castor’s cheeks took on a faint pink tinge. “W-what do you mean?” he stammered.

“Oh, you must be feeling it now,” said Marcus. “Guilt. Remorse. A sinking feeling in your gut. Not because you are a cock-obsessed pervert—I know you accept that and part of you, indeed, is actually quite proud of the fact—but because of what you have failed to do.”

Castor gulped audibly. Marcus’ insight proved once again to be unerringly accurate.

He did feel bad. Not because he’d played with himself and gooned out on his penis on the job, but because he’d ruined things for Corey as a result.

The only reason he wasn’t beating himself up over it was that Marcus had talked about rescheduling the date being a net benefit. Otherwise, he might well have hated himself into the next week.

Marcus grabbed Castor by the face, placing his thumb on his chin and hooking his index finger underneath. He forced him to look into his enchanting blue eyes as he said, “Are you satisfied with being a cock-addicted, porn-addicted loser that lets his friends down because he is too much of a reprobate to know even the slightest hint of restraint?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Marcus’ mouth as he continued. “You and I both know this will only get worse. Degenerates like you only ever do. There will come the occasion when you goon on your batestick at the wrong time and hurt someone you love.”

Marcus’ blue eyes felt like they were boring into the very depths of Castor’s soul, where all his fears and insecurities lay. “Is that the life you want to live, pervert?” Marcus whispered, his voice like ice water pouring down the curve of Castor’s spine.

“N-no,” Castor gasped, tears brimming in his eyes, “No! Never! B-but I can’t join you.”

Marcus laughed as Castor felt something cold and hard cinch around the base of his cock. “I think you’ll find, Mr. Caldwell, I am not a man who is used to hearing the word ‘No.’ You will come around. One way or another.”

Castor looked down as Marcus released his chin. Just in time to watch the man’s hand fasten a tight filigree cage around his cock.

Purchase Your Copy Now

Addiction (A Hero Ensnared #3)

The encounter in the forest haunts Castor. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get those blue eyes out of his mind. He’d heard the stories but he’d never imagined the archvillain Imperious could leave such an indelible first impression.

He’s almost helpless to resist his body’s wants. Even when he has a mission of utmost importance, he can’t help but indulge his carnal nature—a nature that Imperious had exposed not too long ago.

Addiction is a 6,800-word short story and part three of a four-part series.

Purchase Your Copy Now


This was bad.

He needed to stop.

He needed to resist. Just this once.

He had to pull his hand out of his pants, fix his clothes, and look presentable. Corey’s date was due to arrive any minute now to pick him up. But his hard, swollen cock just felt too good to ignore.

And if there was anything he’d come to understand over the last month, it was that he was powerless to resist the insistent, needy throbbing of his arousal. Fuck.

There was no use fighting. He couldn’t win. He didn’t have the strength, the discipline, or the willpower.

Once upon a time—back when he’d been a real hero—he might have managed to put duty before self-pleasure. Not anymore. That was abundantly clear.

There was only one option now: surrender. He could struggle vainly for the next few minutes only to fail or he could just…let his cock take control.

That way, at least, there was the faint hope he’d finish in the few minutes he had left to spare. If he was lucky, he’d finish with enough time to spare to get all presentable again.

Reluctantly, Castor pulled his hand out of his pants. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped, sighing with relief as the tightness eased on his erection.

He looked down between his legs and licked his lips as he fished his cock out of his underwear. It twitched in the cool air, pre-cum dripping down the underside. It was a wonder he hadn’t yet made a wet spot in his pants.


Castor was so godsdamned horny. His cock was so godsdamned hard. He needed this so bad the first stroke alone produced a thrill of pleasure so powerful his mind went momentarily blank.

His breathing became shallower. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes fluttering. He moaned as he worked his hand up and down the length of his shaft.

Purchase Your Copy Now

Voyeurism (A Hero Ensnared #2)

Castor Caldwell, A.K.A. Phantom, retired from active superhero duty years ago for good reason. He’s just not suited to that life anymore. He much prefers the relative luxury of using his shapeshifting powers to stand in for the front-liners, making sure their secret identities stay secret.

When Tempest is called back to duty, however, Castor is called up from retirement to keep an eye on him just in case there are some lingering effects from the younger super’s month-long capture. Unfortunately for him, things only get worse from there as an encounter with a fallen hero reveals that things are not quite as they seem with Tempest.

Voyeurism is a 7,000-word short story and part two of a four-part series.

Purchase Your Copy Now


Castor squirmed in his restraints. His cock throbbed. There was now a sizable lump in the front of his suit and thanks to the way Luxus had tied him up, he had no way to hide it.

He felt like he was watching a cheap B-reel superhero porno, complete with the awful acting and hammy dialogue. It was so bad it went right back around to being hot and his obvious arousal made that fact readily apparent.

Imperious turned away from the action and faced Castor. “Do you understand now?” he said. “Why you are nothing like him?”

Castor gulped. He could guess what Imperious was getting at. And considering where those bright blue eyes were currently pointed, he was all but certain.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” said Imperious, a small smirk playing on his lips. “That is perfectly acceptable. Allow me to elucidate.”

Imperious walked up to Castor. Uncomfortably close.

Despite Castor being tied to the tree as to essentially be at eye level with Imperious, the latter seemed to nevertheless loom over him. There was just something so undeniably imposing in the sheer weight of presence Imperious threw around.

Castor’s inner thigh trembled as Imperious’ fingers drifted feather-light along the curve of his leg. He could feel the nails tracing thin lines on his skin as if the suit wasn’t there at all.

His breath caught in his throat as Imperious’ fingers drifted to his crotch. The archvillain cupped his balls with the tips of his fingers.

“You’re not a real hero, are you, Castor?” Imperious murmured.

Castor’s heart skipped a beat. “W-what kind of nonsense is that? F-fuck you! I am a real hero!”

Imperious smirked. He slipped his hand forward, letting Castor’s balls rest in his palm as he massaged them with his thumb. Castor had to suck in a breath to suppress the moan that threatened to spill from his lips at the sensation.

The corner of Imperious’ mouth twitched. “You cannot mean to say you really think so. You know, deep down, you are a sorry excuse for a hero.”

Castor’s cheeks burned. Just because he’d chosen to retire didn’t mean he was any less of a hero than Tempest was.

He’d shed blood, sweat, and tears in the name of justice. He’d done his time. He was just done with the tragedy of all of it.

He was a hero, still. He wouldn’t have stayed on with the Hall, otherwise. There were Supers all over the place that led normal lives, perfectly aware of their powers and in control of their own destinies. Castor was with the Hall because he wanted to help, still, just not by being on the front lines of the war against villainy.

Imperious traced a single finger up along the underside of Castor’s cock. “Right about now, I imagine you are trying to rationalize to yourself that you are still a hero. That I am wrong…”

Heat bloomed across Castor’s cheeks. It seemed Imperious had him dead to rights.

Purchase Your Copy Now

Indulgence (A Hero Ensnared #1)

Corey Cooper, A.K.A. Tempest, vigilant protector and pride of Selene City, has been found and rescued from a cabal of powerful villains after a month and a half of no contact.

Castor, who has been using his shapeshifter powers to stand in for Corey in his absence pays him a visit at the hospital where he is convalescing and gives him some much-needed relief and some not-as-necessary self-indulgence.

Indulgence is a 7,000-word short story and part one of a four-part series.

Buy Your Copy Now


Castor flashed the broadest grin he could at Corey. “Now, now, Corey. Let’s not pretend you’re all pure and innocent either. You probably have some sort of fantasy about fucking yourself,” he said.

Corey leaned up, propping his torso up with his elbows against the mattress. “What if I did?” he said, voice dropping to a lower, huskier register. “You going to do anything about it? I bet you love to transform into me and jerk off in front of a mirror so you can watch me beating my meat.”

“Oh yeah. I love to edge your big cock while standing in front of the bathroom mirror. Did you know that you blush from your neck when you get turned on?” Castor purred.

Castor leaned forward, looking up to meet Corey’s gaze. He licked his lips. With a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips, he cast his gaze down.

Corey’s eyes followed Castor’s.

Hook, line, and sinker, Castor thought to himself and chuckled. Now that he had Corey’s attention where he wanted it, he rubbed the erection growing between his own legs.

Gods,” Corey groaned. “I’m so fucking pent up.”

It was a little bit filthy, and maybe a lot crazy, but Castor had been banking on it. “Then maybe you could use a hand?” he said, feigning innocence. “Or a mouth?”

Corey sucked in a breath. He flicked his gaze out past Castor’s shoulder, at the door. “I shouldn’t—” Corey said, glancing back down between Castor’s legs. “I can’t possibly ask—”

Castor smiled. He grabbed Corey’s hand and raised it to his lips. He caught a finger in his lips and popped it in, swirling his tongue once around the tip. “You’re not asking,” he murmured, in a low and husky voice. “I’m offering.

A bright pink flush bloomed on Corey’s cheeks. It was adorable, really. It was easy to forget that Corey was a little bit on the meeker side when his heroic alter ego, Tempest, was such a fucking badass. It was really nice to see this more vulnerable, more bashful side. It awakened something inside him that he rarely got to indulge since he was more on the submissive side himself.

“A-at least a-activate the privacy screen,” Corey muttered.

Castor stood from his seat, a glint in his eye. He lowered Corey’s hand from his lips to his crotch, bumping the outline of his hard cock against the knuckles. “SIBYL, would you be able to activate the privacy screen for us?” said Castor.

I would be able to do so, yes,” chimed SIBYL in response, though she didn’t actually activate the privacy screen. “While Corey’s physical condition has experienced remarkable improvement ever since Fatima started treating him, I must advise that he refrain from any strenuous activity.”

“That’s alright, SIBYL,” said Castor, as Corey’s wrist twisted in his grip. He bit his lower lip to stifle the groan that nearly escaped him as Corey’s fingers traced at the outline of his cock. “You don’t think a blowjob would be too strenuous, would you?”

Buy Your Copy Now

Bottoming for the Enemy (Highly Classified #1)

A former British army officer recounts his past experiences of sex in the military. In this story, he recalls a situation in the early 90s when their base in Germany hosted a delegation of Russian forces, and he was required to keep a couple of horny Russian teens entertained… and satisfied.

Bottoming for the Enemy is a 7,000-word short story.

Purchase Your Copy Now


Fyodor’s soapy hand was suddenly around my cock. It was small, I had not been hard like the other two, but that ended in a matter of seconds. He smiled, but blankly, as if this was just a thing he did to all his comrades, jerking them off. But fuck, it felt good. Sasha, meanwhile, was actually at the entrance, keeping a look out.

“Don’t worry,” I called over. “No one is coming here at this time of day.”

He came back, and Fyodor had got to his knees under the running water and was happily sucking my dick.

“Fuck,” I said, unsure if to hold the back of his head or do anything else but watch him as he gripped the base of my penis and worked his mouth from shaft to tip. In my couple of years in the army thus far, I had sucked a fair few dicks. Been fucked by a number as well. Always secretly, always after extensive surveys of quiet bathroom blocks, long, tired nights of cruising, and often shaken heads and men turning away from me as I offered my mouth or ass for them to use once or again.

I had not been sucked in the army, at least not on base. And perhaps not since my ill-fated night out in Berlin several months ago, when a blowjob from a young German I’d met at a gay bar that I’d dumped my mates to sneak off to, had ended when a drunken mob of those same mates had clattered into the back street we’d been in and had nearly caught me getting my dick sucked.

“Fuck me that’s good.” Sasha was standing beside me now, starting to run a hand over my chest, down my abdomen, then around to my ass and squeezing each cheek. I kept my hands on my hips as I thrust into Fyodor’s willing mouth, careful not to push too far and choke the poor lad, but enough that I could feel a rising from my balls.

Sasha’s cock looked just as delicious and large as the one now resting on the tile between Fyodor’s legs. I broke an invisible barrier and reached out to touch it, wrapping my hand around a hefty, white shaft, smooth and polished and uncircumcised. Most Brits were not either, while most Americans were. For some reason I was, and the extra skin fascinated me. I slid back the foreskin around his cock as he grinned in appreciation. My natural instinct with a cock in my hand was to lean down and put it in my mouth. But something about these boys felt different. Fyodor at least seemed determined to get the entirety of my chubby seven inches all the way down his thin throat. His Adam's apple pulsed as the tip of my dick caused him to choke.

I wondered what Adam’s apple would be in Russian. But only for a moment. Sasha’s dick was standing straight out, the skin twisting and twirling at the tip, and I leaned over to gulp it down to my Adam’s apple. 

A deep, Russian groan emanated out of his throat as I sucked from the odd angle of being sucked at the same time. A few words of Russian came from Sasha, directed at Fyodor, while Sasha’s hand fingered down to my ass. The vaguely familiar feeling of fingers exploring the gap between my cheeks, then the roundness of my hole. Much like the guns on base, they were fingered regularly, but hoisting it up and firing a shot was another matter.

Sasha seemed determined to make a bullseye hit. One wet finger breached the outer rim of my body as Fyodor popped off from my dick, still holding it, and replied to Sasha: “Da.

Purchase Your Copy Now

Selling My Teen Boyfriend’s Virginity (Locker Room Daddies #3)

Frankie and Alejandro are on the run after a horrific evening with Alejandro's father. But Frankie has a plan to get these two teens off the street: he's going to manipulate the daddies at the local gym. But it seems the daddies have their own ideas for the boys, whether they like it or not.

Selling My Teen Boyfriend's Virginity is a 16,000-word short story

Purchase Your Copy


“First thing’s first,” Harlan said, happily looking down his bespeckled nose at both of us. One leg was crossed against the other, dancing gently as if our lives weren’t in the balance. “I am to be addressed as Sir at all times. Understood? As is any gentleman who accompanies me.”

“Yes…Sir,” said Alejandro, gulping out the salutation like he’d never said such a thing in his life. 

I just nodded. 

“Wonderful. Now boys, on your knees.” Alejandro glanced my way, unsure what to do even though I’d dropped to one knee already.” 

A flash of anger cut through Harlan. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the carpeted floor. “Rule two. Do as I say, when I say it!”

That was enough for Alejandro to sail straight down. We knelt, hands behind our backs. Execution style. 

“Good. Now I can see you boys properly.” Harlan peered through the glasses on the end of his nose. 

Alejandro looked as uncomfortable as I’d ever seen him. So obviously on display. 

“Lift your arms, son,” Jon said to Alejandro, sliding to the edge of his chair. 

Alejandro did so, quietly gulping at the same time. His biceps were on full display. The muscled shield of his chest and armor-plated pecs flexing with the movements. 

“Very nice,” Harlan said, looking genuinely pleased. Alejandro smiled and started to lower his arms.

“Keep them up!” Jon snapped. “When did you first have hair under your arms?”

“Um…I’m not sure. Thirteen, fourteen?” 

“Uh huh.” Jon was already on his feet, holding one of Alejandro’s arms up like a catch of the day.

“That tickles!” Alejandro squirmed as Jon poked at both of his pits. He drew two fingers under his own nose, sniffing in Alejandro’s scent. Then he offered a snifter of his fingers to Harlan, who nodded approvingly. Abdul was next to join in the strange ritual. He wandered over but didn’t bother with Jon’s fingers. He yanked up Alejandro’s arm and took a deep sniff of the hairy armpit himself. 

I quickly took a sniff of my own pits, feeling a tad left out. The men ignored me. They were too busy admiring Alejandro from every angle. 

“Penis, please boys. Both of you.” Harlan said it like a school principal demanding the key to a naughty boy’s locker. 

Jon and Abdul both stood waiting with all seriousness, arms folded. This was the part Alejandro had clearly been dreading. 

I offered a quick half smile and took the lead. I was the opposite of hard. I yanked down my shorts and underwear to my thighs, then pulled up the tank top I always worked out in, holding it under my chin.

The men rubbed their chins as they stared at my exposed body. My cock as soft and flaccid as someone waiting to be prodded by a doctor. I’d shaved only a few days before, so my dick sat beneath bare skin, not even flopping between my thighs, just there like a button on an espresso machine. 

It was Abdul who came forward. He squatted down in the manner of a father about to tell off a tantrum-prone child. His big, brown, hairy hand reached out, a gold sovereign around his pinky. He held my balls in his hand, gently fondling like this was a physical. I shivered in a breath as one ball was squeezed, then the second, then the sac tugged on. I expected to have to cough next.

“Turn head and cough,” Abdul said. 

“Seriously?” But a cold look stopped me in my tracks. I glanced away from Alejandro and forced out a dry cough. Satisfied, Abdul glanced over my shoulder at my bare buttocks. He reached around and cupped each smooth cheek, forcing me to suck in a noseful of dark-skinned scent. Black tea and desert sun. Mint and natural musk. I felt my dick get harder. Not much, but enough to not be utterly embarrassed. I knew what was coming next.

“Alejandro,” Harlan said. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Abdul took the liberty before Alejandro could move a muscle. He yanked down the shorts to reveal my black jock strap. But that didn’t faze him. He pulled that down as well.

Inshah-allah!” Abdul cursed, falling backwards to Harlan’s feet. Shocked, both he and Jon helped Abdul up before the noticed the unfurled dick they’d unleashed.

“My God,” Harlan said. 

“Is it real?” Jon asked, in all seriousness. 

I gulped, knowing the grown-up version had been forced inside me less than a day ago. I knew this was the ace in my hole, but I couldn’t help but think this was the wrong way to cement a relationship between Alejandro and me. 

“Do you have an erection, son?” Harlan asked.

“No…Sir. This is…normal, I guess.”

I saw Abdul bite his bottom lip. Harlan gazed on in quiet wonderment, but it was Jon whose eyes seemed to flash with dollar signs. He whispered something incomprehensible to Harlan, who grinned.

“Lift up your penis, please.” Harlan crouched down, shifting his glasses up. 

Alejandro complied, the head of his engorged cock pointing above his belly button. Harlan gave his balls a light tap like a kitten, and Alejandro immediately trembled at the tap. 

Purchase Your Copy

When Dad Forced My Boyfriend (Locker Room Daddies #2)

Alejandro has just turned 18 and has been shipped off to live with his estranged dad who forces his son to toughen up at Hadrian's gym. But it's in the locker room that Alejandro meets young Frankie, and the boys explore their young love in the locker room showers. That is until they're caught in the act, and once Alejanadro's dad learns of this shame, he'll stop at nothing to teach his son a terrible lesson.

When Dad Forced My Boyfriend is a 12,000-word short story.

Purchase Your Copy


Frankie took my hand and guided it straight between his ass cheeks. Whatever nerves I might have had about touching another man’s ass for the first time melted away as I stroked the soft, hairless edges, playing with the fountain stream running between them. This wasn’t any strange man’s asshole. This was Frankie. I’d known him for an hour but knew him deeply by touch. My finger danced around his hole, knowing I wanted in but not quite sure how to do it. 

Frankie helped. Our mouths parted, and he grinned at me widely, holding my one hand with both of his as he edged backwards onto my hooked finger. Those wide eyes flickered just as I’d imagined.

“It’s warm in there.”

“Mmmm,” came his response. Mouth sealed tight as he reached back to my epic dick between us, stroking it like Aladdin unbelieving he’d come across a genie-stuffed lamp.

“I told you it got bigger.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Alejandro. I’ve no idea if this will work. But I need you.”

“It’s okay.” I hugged his head into my chest. “I just like being with you. We don’t need to rush.”

But Frankie was already turned around. He lathered up with a handful of shower gel from the dispenser, slathering both my cock and his ass with it. I didn’t know what to do or how to help. But I held onto his hips, tightly as if he might slip and fall from the odd angle. He was arched forward, the only thing he had to hold onto the flat tiled wall. So, I held him. My cock resting on his back above his ass. As big as a forearm and a fist. I touched his hole again, slippery now from the shower gel.

“You’re so tight, Frankie. There’s no way I can fit. We don’t have to do this now.” But Frankie was already angling my dick straight onto the littlest of openings. “Frankie, you don’t need to do this. Honestly.”

My protesting ended at the very moment the head of my dick breached his perfect hole. True, I’d only had an orgasm with my own hand, but the very touch of skin against skin was better than every self-inflicted masturbatory emission throughout all my life. I was nearly the one to fall, as Frankie reached behind to hold my body back from going any further.


“But the tip’s barely in.”

“That’s just the tip?”

Purchase Your Copy

The Berlin Underground: 4-Pack Bundle

The Antinous Society is an elite club of Berlin’s most powerful men who engage in their most carnal desires. Peter craves nothing more than to take his place among these men. But to become one of them, Peter must not only survive the dreaded Dungeon Games, he must come out on top.

From public fisting, to wrestling for the right to top, to entering into the hot, sweaty, dark, and testosterone-soaked dungeon, Peter faces sexual trials he could never dream of and has his limits stretched beyond what he ever thought possible.

The Berlin Underground: 4-Pack Bundle is a 49,000-word collection of four previously published stories following Peter’s journey through this erotic underworld.

Included in this bundle are:
- The Secret Fisting Academy
- Wrestling for Dominance in the Dungeon Games
- Enter the Dungeon at Your Own Risk
- No More Safe Words

Buy Your Copy Now


“Number four-nine-five!” a voiceover said in English. People started to look under their drinks. 

“I’m four-nine-seven,” Mark said. “Quick,” he said to me. “Check under yours.”

Sure enough, under my glass was a small strip of plastic stuck to the bottom with the lucky numbers.

“Oh God,” I said, “what now?” Dolf had inserted a random fan’s beer bottle into his ass, and given it back for him to drink. Although I could respect his talent, if having a wide-open hole could be considered as such, but I was hardly a fan. I had a flashback to Noah and my night at a Berlin bar when a young twink got fisted on stage. My body shivered with the thought Dolf might do the same to me. “I don’t want to get fucked on stage,” I yelled to Mark. 

“Just get up there,” he said, and started pointing at me so the whole warehouse knew who the lucky winner was. Gulping, I had no choice but to make my way to the stage, surrounded by perfect bodies and mean, jealous eyes.

“What’s your name?” the famous Dolf asked me. He smelled like lube and poppers.

“Peter.” The crowd applauded, but I could feel their hate. I was more nervous to upset them than disappoint Dolf. The dildos had been cleared and Dolf mounted the table, readying himself on all fours, snapping the straps of the jockstrap cupping his round ass.

“Roll up your sleeve,” said his leather-bound assistant. With nowhere to run, I did just that. He unfurled a black silicone glove, long enough to birth a calf. With all the tenderness of a doctor’s office, the assistant raised my arm and slid the leather sheath over it. The crowd edged closer as I saw Dolf take a blast of poppers and realized what was about to happen. They wanted me to fist Dolf.

“Are you ready, Peter?” Dolf yelled to the crowd.

“Um…” My glove was slathered in lube as Dolf shuffled backwards. His hole beckoned. It didn’t look very open, but the crowd was starting to chant and clap their hands in time.

“Come on, Peter, give me your best shot. Who wants to see me get fist fucked?”

The crowd cheered. I had no choice. Sucking in an anxious breath, I approached with one gloved finger. It slid straight in. Dolf arched his back and pushed into me. I didn’t even have to move for his ass to expand around my knuckles. 

“Fist him, fist him,” the crowd chanted. 

“Punch my hole open, Peter.” 

What was I to do? I withdrew the half of my hand already inside, and more lube was squeezed on. Dolf pulled his cheeks apart and showed me the open target. I made a fist to the crowd, and they cheered. Tightening my grip, I held onto one of Dolf’s ass cheeks for support, then hurled my fist straight at his hole.

Buy Your Copy Now

The Case of the Church Kitchen Catastrophe — Jeramie Lecleaux: Boyslut Detective

Jeramie Lecleaux is an eighteen-year old teen detective and slut puppy. When trouble strikes, he uses his sharp eyes, clever wits, and well-trained boypussy to root out clues and interrogate suspects.

A fire at the local Baptist church on a Sunday morning would be scandalous enough, but someone made off with the church cash box. Once the smoke clears, Jeramie is on the case. Can the boyslut detective track down who took the latest tithes while having several of the older men in the congregation scratch his needy itch?

The Case of the Church Kitchen Catastrophe is an 11,000-word short story.

Buy Your Copy Now


Mr. DuPree was dressed in his usual Sunday suit, a pair of slack pants with shined shoes and dress socks. A slick coat covered a blue button-up shirt. His tie hung out at the moment, as though Mr. DuPree had been worrying with it. His brown beard had a few flakes of white, and he had a slight paunch sticking out in front.

Overall, though, Jeramie thought Mr. DuPree was quite handsome, in his own way.

“I wanted to ask you,” Jeramie began, “if you had any peppermint. I’m fresh out.”

Mr. DuPree always carried peppermint around. He claimed that it helped him sit still during church services. He kept plenty in his coat pocket, and would offer it to anyone if they asked.

“Oh!” said Mr. DuPree, lighting up a little. “Of course. Here, just lemme check real quick…”

Jeramie waited, watching Mr. DuPree closely. The first pocket he checked was empty, but the second one had several pieces. Mr. DuPree pulled out a fist full and held it out for Jeramie to choose.

“Help yourself,” said Mr. DuPree.

Jeramie reached for the pile in Mr. DuPree’s hand, then hesitated. The movement was on purpose. He looked up then, right into Mr. DuPree’s vivid blue eyes.

“You know,” he said, “I found a piece like these in the kitchen.”

Mr. DuPree’s fingers closed around the handful of peppermints. His hand jerked back reflexively. Jeramie took note of the movements and smiled, giving Mr. DuPree another one of his cherubic grins.

“It was on the floor,” he went on. “Someone had stepped on it.”

“I…” Mr. DuPree began, sweating. “You shouldn’t have been in there, Jeramie. Not after a fire. It’s very dangerous.”

Jeramie’s smile widened. “I was helping my Dad,” he explained, pretending to look sad at the admonishment. “Besides, it wasn’t a real fire. Just burned meatloaf.”

“Oh,” said Mr. DuPree, and he relaxed a little. “Yeah, I suppose…”

“Funny, though.” Jeramie moved in closer, pretending to go for the peppermint again. “The oven was still warm.”

Mr. DuPree’s eyes widened. Jeramie saw his opening, and moved his hand past the peppermints. His fingers went for the front of Mr. DuPree’s slacks. Mr. DuPree let out a soft gasp as Jeramie wrapped his small digits around the older man’s cock through the soft fabric.

“Like the oven had been turned up on high,” Jeramine continued, as though nothing out of the ordinary were happening.

Fresh sweat popped out on Mr. DuPree’s forehead. His mouth hung open, and his breath deepened. Mr. DuPree stared in shock for a moment while Jeramine’s hand worked his shaft up and down through the front of the older man’s slacks.

Jeramie could feel the shaft growing thicker, harder, in his hand. “You shouldn’t…” Mr. DuPree stammered. “Jeramie, that’s very wrong, you know! I could get in trouble!”

Mr. DuPree was doing his damnedest to sound authoritative, but it had no effect whatsoever on Jeramie. He merely smiled and pushed Mr. DuPree’s hand away so he could move closer.

“I like this candy better,” Jeramie said, sinking to his knees.

Mr. DuPree remained rooted to his chair. He didn’t stop Jeramie from undoing the button on his trousers with his tiny fingers. He didn’t move when Jeramie slid the zipper all the way down, nor did he use his hands to force Jeramie away when the little slut puppy fished his cock out.

Cold air blew over Mr. DuPree’s thick shaft once it was freed. It was quickly followed by Jeramie’s hot breath. The randy teenager heated the already smoldering man cock in front of him with a few quick puffs of air. His fingers slid back around the eight inches of meat, gripping it tight.

Mr. DuPree moaned. “Oh, God!” he whimpered. “God… no!”

Jeramie knew he had his suspect right where he wanted him now. His pink tongue slid out between his soft, puckered lips. The tip ran up along the underside of the shaft, sending a shiver up through Mr. DuPree’s much bigger body.

“Mmm!” Jeramie moaned, making sure it was loud enough for Mr. DuPree to hear. “Definitely better than peppermint.”

Buy Your Copy Now