indieerotica – Page 21 – Indie Erotica Collective

Indie Erotica Collective > Articles by: indieerotica

Author: indieerotica

Loving Daddies: A Dad/Son Gay Incest 4-Pack Bundle

Posted on January 21, 2019February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Virgin twinks need a lesson in sex education — and there’s no one better suited to give it to them than their fathers.

This taboo bundle features four stories of masculine and powerful daddies seducing their innocent sons, and showing them just how raunchy and hot gay sex can be. From teaching his son how to perform at the glory hole, to showing his son what daddy learned in prison, to giving his son the first taste of gay sex, this collection has it all.

Loving Daddies is a 15,000-word bundle and includes the following previously-published short stories: At The Glory Hole With Dad, Seduced By My Ex-Con Father, Taking My Dad’s Hot Load, and Watching Gay Porn With My Dad.

I turn down the music on my laptop and listen to the noises in the house. It’s just dad and me at home, and I’m sure I heard him swearing.

Instead, what I hear is something like an alert siren, but it sounds tinny, like it’s coming from computer speakers. I chuckle to myself and get to my feet, leaving my anthropology homework behind. Dad probably got some noisy pop-up ad that he’s having trouble closing. He’s not good with technology.

I wander through the house until I find him. He’s in his room, sitting on the bed, with his laptop across his knees. He looks up at me, startled, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Need help, dad?” I ask, and start crossing the room to him.

“No,” he says, shaking his head franticly. “I’ll figure it out!”

I almost stumble when I see why he doesn’t want my help. His shorts and briefs are partway down his thighs and his hard, thick cock is laying across his lap.

“Uh…” I say, not able to put together words. I take in the sight of it — thick, veiny, dark, hard. It’s far bigger than mine. When I finally pull my gaze away from dad’s cock, I see his cheeks burning bright with shame. I probably look as red as him.

The only sound in the room, which is only barely overcoming the incredibly loud thudding of my heart, is the irritating shrill coming from the pop-up ad. Dad and I stare at each other for far too long.

Finally, he turns the laptop toward me, not bothering to pull his shorts up. “Can you get rid of this fucking thing?”

I nod, then get on my knees next to the bed. Though I try to focus solely on the laptop, I can’t help but glance at dad’s dick, only inches from my face. I try closing the pop-up, which I’m sure dad had attempted, and I was caught in an endless cycle of warnings, forcing the ad to stay open. It took a few moments of fiddling, but I managed to finally close the ad.

With the ad gone, I could see what dad had been looking at.

I never should’ve come in here.

Gay porn filled the screen.

An older man is fucking a younger man, his thick cock completely buried in the younger man’s smooth ass. I glance again at dad’s cock and feel my cheeks burning hot with a blush. Then I look over to the other side of the bed, mom’s side.

“You okay, son?” dad asks. His voice has a little quiver to it, like he’s as nervous as I am right now.

I bite my lip, trying to figure out what to say. Should I tell him what I really want to tell him? Fuck it. I’ll just do it.

“Let me show you a better site for gay porn,” I finally say.

Dominating Daddies: A Dad/Son Gay Incest 4-Pack Bundle

Posted on January 21, 2019February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Sometimes boys need dominating — and there’s no better man to give it to them than their fathers. For a boy, his father is the man he looks up to, admires, loves, respects, and trusts. So when a father ties up his son, spanks him, and punishes him, a proper son allows it to happen. An obedient son is thankful.

In this bundle of four hot dad/son incest stories from Master Dominic, you’ll find four boys who are subservient to their fathers, who will cater to their every disciplinary wish. From spankings to being tied up in chains, from ball gags to suspension, from extra kinky to downright painful, these four boys will learn the true meaning of BDSM — and the true joy of gay sex — from the one man they love the most, their fathers.

Dominating Daddies is a 14,000-word bundle that includes the following previously published stories: Punished By Daddy, Dominated By Dad, Disciplined By My Dad And My Principal, and Father Son Bondage.

Dad looks around the campsite with a grin, then his eyes settle on me. I suddenly feel hotter and a new burst of sweat peppers my forehead, but it has nothing to do with the oppressive August heat. He breaks our eye contact long enough to peel off his sweat-soaked shirt. Fuck. He’s hairy and muscular — just like the Dom in the video he caught me watching.

“Take off your shirt, son. It’s scorching,” he says.

Without a word, I do as he suggests, revealing my slim twink frame. My chest is smooth and hairless, tight and skinny, basically the complete opposite of dad. He leans down and opens the cooler, pulling out two cans of beer. He offers one to me.

“Seriously?” I say. While legally an adult, I’m still a couple years from drinking age. Mom and dad have always been strict on that.

“Yeah. It’ll be our secret.”

I take it from him, a surge of heat and eroticism passing between us as our fingertips briefly touch. I crack open the can and take a careful sip, the cold beer instantly cooling down my overheated body. I wince slightly at the bite of alcohol, but recover quickly and have a second sip.

“Take it slow,” dad says. “You should take it easy if this is your first one.” Then dad sets up our two lawn chairs, side by side, facing the woods, to where we can just see the glimmer of a lake through the trees. He sits in one of the chairs and pats the other one, beckoning me to join him.

I quickly sit next to him, our arms only inches from each other, and shift in my seat, struggling to hide the bulge in my shorts. Dad takes a sip of his beer and then rests his hand on his crotch — and that’s when I notice the massive bulge he’s sporting. My eyes almost bug out as I take in the sheer size of it. He catches me staring and I look back toward the lake, my cheeks burning hot.

I take another sip of beer — anything to avoid eye contact with dad. I can already feel it going to my head, making my thinking a little foggy. As I raise the can to take yet another sip, dad puts his hand on my arm.

“Don’t get drunk,” he says. “I have a question for you and I want you to be sober for your answer.”

I put the can down in the little holder in the armrest of my lawn chair. I can’t tell where this is going — I know it has something to do with him catching me jerking off, but beyond that, I don’t know. In the silence that passes between us, I finally look up at him. His eyes are serious, yet caring.

“Do you want my dick?” dad asks.

Gangbanged By My Dad And His Friends

Posted on January 21, 2019February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Trevor needs to study for his first year chemistry exam… but his father and his friends are in the other room getting drunk and rowdy while watching a hockey game. No matter what he does, Trevor can’t block out the noise and just focus on the subject matter. So, as much as he doesn’t want to, he confronts his father and his friends and begs them to be quiet. But with the hockey game almost over, they instead convince Trevor to join them for a beer and the end of the game.

But when Trevor settles into the couch between his dad and one of his friends, uncomfortable memories arise… memories of the last time his dad was this drunk and the things Trevor and his dad did to each other. Thankfully, his dad was far too drunk to remember. But that small comfort is quickly lost when his dad starts making moves on him — with his friends still in the room — and then he leans in and whispers into Trevors ear “They know.”

Soon, the game is over, everyone is naked, and Trevor is being used by his dad and his friends for their personal pleasure.

Gangbanged By My Dad And His Friends is a 5,000-word short story.

I turn my head slightly, looking to Chad and Derek. They’re both engrossed in the game. I turn back toward dad, my lips just a mere inch from his.

“Dad…” I say. I try to keep my voice low and steady, but it comes out with a crack. I sound like a pubescent teenager.

He glances past me, toward his friends, then his eyes meet mine again. “They know,” he says.

Then it hits me. It all hits me. Dad does remember that night. I thought I was the only one living with this guilt, but he is too. But … he doesn’t seem like he feels guilty. He seems… Dad takes my hand and puts it on his hard, massive bulge.

“Dad…” I say again, my voice cracking again.

“Trevor…” he says. I moan at the sound of my name on his lips.

Absently, I realize the game is over. I hear the theme music emanating from the TV, but it sounds like it’s a million miles away. He grabs the back of my head and pulls me close to him for a kiss, his lips crushing against mine, and it’s like all I can focus on, like my whole world exists in this kiss and nowhere else. Everything drops away — the TV, Derek, Chad — they’re all gone and it’s just dad and I and our kiss. I can taste the beer on his lips and his tongue, and the warmth of his body soaks through his clothes and through mine and warms me to my core. His hand falls to rest on my hard bulge and he starts rubbing it.

Hypnotizing The Straight Cop

Posted on January 21, 2019February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Robbie is driving along a lonely country road and can’t resist pressing the pedal to the metal. But just as he really starts getting into the fast life, the red and blue lights of a police car fill his rearview mirror. He’s pulled over for speeding. His day is ruined. Worse, the cop seems to know Robbie is gay and has a problem with it.

Right when Robbie would normally roll over and pretend none of this his happening, something snaps in him. No longer does he want to be the passive one who just puts up with all the homophobia directed his way. No, today is the day he exacts his revenge.

He embarks on a risky move, hypnotizing the straight cop. Right when it seems like his plan fails and he’s about to get a beating from this macho cop, it seems that he actually succeeds. This macho alpha cop is completely under his control, giving Robbie the opportunity to take him down a few pegs and to get back at the cop for his homophobia.

Hypnotizing the Straight Cop is a 4,700-word short story.

I bite my lip, nervous with indecision. Looking in the mirror again, I catch the cop look up at me again from the seat of his car. Despite his mirrored sunglasses, the look of disgust is clear. Yeah, he’s a fag. He’s probably sucked more cock than me — probably taken more loads up the ass too. I can’t stand those two-faced homophobes who secretly have an insatiable desire for cock. Either own up to it or fuck off.

My cheeks are burning hot again, but now with anger. Fuck. I pick up my phone and dig through the links I have bookmarked. Near the bottom of the list is the hypno soundtrack that worked the best on my ex. I look in the mirror one more time, weighing whether or not to actually try this. I catch him glaring at me once more before getting out of his car — and I also take a moment to ensure that he is, indeed, alone — and I decide that I’m fucking doing this.

I hit the link, then start the audio track that pops up. I place my phone on my dash, pointing the speakers toward where the cop will be standing. A loud droning noise fills the car. A moment later, that perfect view of his crotch happens again. Then he bends over. He’s about to say something, but then he eyes my phone.

“Turn that off,” he says, command clear in his voice.

“Listen to it … it’s soothing … it’s calming…”

“I said turn that fucking thing off.”

My heart suddenly beats at something like three times the speed, hammering against my ribs. This is the do-or-die moment.

“Listen to the sound of my voice …

Fisted by Daddy

Posted on January 21, 2019February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Colin is reliving his childhood years by spending his weekend off from college in his PJs and watching cartoons … and then his worst nightmare happens. His father walks in holding Colin’s dildo … the one that’s as thick as his wrist. What starts as an awkward and horrifying coming out as gay to his father soon turns into an unexpectedly erotica and taboo encounter as his father reveals he’s interested to know just how wide Colin can be stretched…

Fisted By Daddy is a 3,500-word short story.

I was reliving my childhood years by watching cartoons in my PJs on a Saturday morning in the living room when it happened … when dad walked in with the giant dildo I kept in the back of my closet.

“Son,” he said, with a stern look on his face that made me whither and desperately want to just hide under the blanket I had over my legs. “I think we need to talk.”

I felt my cheeks burn extra hot with a blush that had to be deep scarlet. “Were you snooping in my room?” I asked. I knew it was obvious I was trying to avoid the real discussion, but I was desperate to talk about anything but the massive rubber dong in dad’s hands.

“That’s not the point,” dad said, not taking any of my bullshit. “Turn off the TV.”

I did as ordered and then dad sat down next to me on the couch. He held up the dildo between us.

“So … what’s this about?”

“I…” I couldn’t get out more words than that. I felt my cheeks burn even hotter, so hot they felt like they were on fire. I looked away — I couldn’t make eye contact with dad.

“Colin, do you … do you use this on yourself?” he asked. When he said the word “this”, his gaze settled on the dildo and a look passed on his face that I couldn’t figure out. I expected it to be a look of disgust, but it wasn’t.

I couldn’t answer, couldn’t even open my mouth to utter a sound, couldn’t even bring myself to nodding or shaking my head.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” he said.

He put the dildo down on the couch between us. Even though I’ve had that thing shoved up my butt countless times, I was almost stunned by how massive it is. It seemed that in the heat of self-sex, I accept it for what it is, but now that I was looking at it when I’m completely not horny, it almost shocked me that my hole was capable of expanding that much. The girth of it had to be as wide as my wrist and it was about a foot long.

Dad sighed, then put his hand under my chin and forced me to look up at him.

“Colin … are you gay?”

My lip quivered in utter nervousness, but I was determined to answer this question. “Yeah, dad, I am.” I felt an instant rush of both relief and even more nervousness — I had just come out, but what would the consequences of that be? It had taken me a long time to accept this fact about myself, with only my recent discovery of the college gay club giving me the strength to do so. For dad, though, this had to be all so sudden.

“And you,” he said, picking up the massive dildo from the fake balls attached to its base, “can take this up your boy butt?”

Hypnotizing My Straight Roommate

Posted on January 21, 2019February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Caleb can’t stand his roommate Grant. It’s bad enough that the man is a disgusting slob, but he’s also incredibly good-looking and straight — so he can’t even get a good lay out of it. When he comes home from college classes one afternoon, Caleb has had it with Grant’s messiness. But he knows he can’t just complain — he’s done that before and it’s gotten him nothing. Acting out of desperation, he does the first thing that comes to mind … he hypnotizes Grant and makes him clean up. But once he’s got this sexy hunk under hypnosis, Caleb can’t help but act on his deepest desires.

Hypnotizing My Straight Roommate is a 3,500-word short story.

My bewilderment faded as I took in the mess again — and as the stench fully filled my nostrils and my lungs — and was replaced with only cold rage. Grant is a useless slob! I’m always cleaning up after him!

I decided I’d had enough. I stormed through the apartment, looking for him. I shoved open his bedroom door and found him passed out on the mattress. The floor was scattered with clothing and the stench of unwashed underwear filled the air.

He was lying face down in his bed, clad in only a pair of white briefs. My rage faltered for a moment — as much trouble as Grant was, he was certainly one fine looking man. Even in the half-dark of the room, I could make out the sculpted muscles of his back and the curve of his muscular ass, the white cotton of his briefs clinging tightly to his cheeks and plunging into the valley of his crack. His legs, hairy and muscular, were long and similarly sculpted.

I wondered what Grant would think if I told him how often I jacked off to mental pictures of him. He was the typical straight guy with an almost frat-like mentality — and he had no idea I was gay. More than once he’d waved his dick at me in a helicopter rotation. Straight boys could be so gay sometimes.

But because of that, I knew just how hung he was.

I sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at his ass. He didn’t stir from the jostling of the mattress. His breathing, slow and steady, helped to calm me down a little further. I had to think this through.

Yelling at Grant wouldn’t work. I’d tried that so many times I’d lost count. He’d be on his best behavior for a day or two, and then I’d come home to filth.

I had to come up with some other way to get him to clean up after himself. But what?

And then I had the craziest of ideas. In my psych class, we’d just learned about hypnotism as a form of therapy, how some people benefitted from post-hypnotic suggestions. Maybe that would be the key to changing his messy ways.

I almost scoffed at myself. Hypnotism? That was the realm of charlatans and cheap magic shows. My prof had also been clearly skeptical. He’d admitted to trying it with a few patients early in his career, but had said nothing stuck longer than a day or two.

Still, though … what if it worked?

I should try it, I decided. If it worked, it worked. If it didn’t, then it was at least a momentary distraction from the stink in the kitchen. And with Grant slumbering, his mind might even be more susceptible to suggestion than normal.

Moving slowly and carefully, so as to not jostle the mattress too much, I slipped my phone from my pocket and quickly looked up a hypnotic script that I could test out on him. A website full of spirals and abstract GIFs popped up. In a few moments, I’d navigated to a script to induce a quick hypnosis. I started reading it out loud.

“Listen to my voice. My voice is calming. My voice is relaxing. My voice is everything you need.” Grant inhaled deeply, but didn’t roll over. His eyes were still closed. He was still asleep. “My voice is comforting. My voice wraps you in a warm blanket and makes you feel safe, makes you feel secure.”

The Pool Boy and The MILF

Posted on January 21, 2019February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

The sound of the back door turns my attention back to the house. Mrs. Williams is walking toward me with a tray containing a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.

“You’re looking a little hot, Tommy,” she says, with a warm smile. “Thought you might need a drink to cool you down.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Williams, I definitely do.” I lay the net down on the deck and join her at the poolside table. She places the tray down and pours lemonade into the glasses. When she hands me my glass, our fingers touch and I get a sudden jolt to my dick. It was a passing touch, harmless, but with where my mind is right now, it’s an incredible turn on.

I chug back half the glass, hoping the cold lemonade will cool the inferno of my building lust. Then I watch her take a dainty sip from her glass and then follow a bead of perspiration as it rolls down her neck and into the hollow of her cleavage.

She’s got a tight, white T-shirt on, with what looks like a floral bikini top beneath. Her outfit is finished off with cut-off jeans that ride high on her tanned thighs.

The lemonade is doing nothing to cool me down. My cock is at full attention, surely tenting my shorts if I would dare to look down.

Mrs. Williams quickly eyes me up and down and lets out a soft chuckle. My cheeks warm with a blush of embarrassment — I know she saw my boner tenting my shorts.

“Call me Sharon,” she says, as she puts her glass down on the tray. She takes a moment to stretch, thrusting her chest toward me. My eyes lock on her tits and my mind empties.

“Huh?”

She chuckles again and says, “You don’t need to call me Mrs. Williams. Sharon is nicer. It’s more … intimate.”

A Night to Remember

Posted on January 21, 2019 by indieerotica

Anna and Trevor are in a rut—like any married couple, their sex life has become monotonous, routine, and dull. But tonight is different.

Anna and Trevor are determined to reignite the burning passion they once had by pretending to be strangers who meet in a hotel bar. It seems like a tame enough activity, but their night of adventure takes an unexpectedly erotic turn when they venture outside for a moonlight stroll.

When they lose their clothes and find themselves trapped outside, under the moonlight, they can’t keep their hands off each other, and soon, all concern about discretion and propriety disappear as their reignited passions take over.

A Night To Remember is a 5,800-word short story.

Even from across the room, I felt the heat from him when his gaze settled on me. He wove around the tables as he crossed the room. Maybe it was the pretence of the game, or maybe it was the way my dress kept me physically aroused, but I was more turned on by the sight of him than I’d been in a long time.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said as he came up beside me. He laid his hand casually on the small of my back and I felt it slide south, to the top curve of my ass. “Could I keep you company this evening?”

I looked him in the eyes and then let my gaze trail down his body. For my answer, I pulled the cherry out of my drink and placed it between my lips, plucking off the stem, then winked at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. He sat on the stool next to me, facing me, with our knees brushing. He waved over the bartender and ordered a whisky. Our eyes locked and didn’t move as the bartender served up his drink. Trevor put money on the counter and we had our privacy again. “What brings a gorgeous woman like you to a place like this?”

“I guess I was just looking for some ... excitement.” I lifted my right leg to cross over my left, but as I did so, I raised my short dress, showing him my cooch. I saw his attention zero in on it, just like I’d intended. I finally crossed my legs and lay my dress over my thighs. When he finally looked up at me again, his cheeks were red with heat and his eyes only held desire. Me being without underwear hadn’t been part of the plan.

“Maybe I — maybe I can provide that excitement,” he said, stumbling over his words. He laid a hand on my bare thigh and my skin burned with heat at the contact, filling me with desire and need.

I leaned forward, giving him an ample view down my top. “What did you have in mind?” I trailed my fingers up one of his legs, from his knee, up his thigh, and then gently across his bulge. He was hard. For me.

New York Heat

Posted on January 20, 2019 by indieerotica

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.

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.

“What?”

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.”

Silent Hearts

Posted on January 20, 2019January 20, 2019 by indieerotica

He thought he could escape his heart by traveling far from home. But the heart will not rest when love calls to it.

Jake Coleman is young, gay and horny. He thought there could be no better way to start out his adulthood than a working visa adventure to Kyleakin, Scotland, a tiny town on the Isle of Skye. He works the overnight shift at a hostel and spends most of the daytime hours sleeping. Oh, and he gives blowjobs to pretty much any hostel guest who asks. It’s the perfect arrangement, until he meets Grant.

Grant MacLean, a very attractive Scotsman, is the first person ever to turn down Jake’s middle-of-night blowjob offer. Instead, he wants to kiss Jake, something that is simply off-limits. Grant cares for Jake in ways that remind him too much of Peter, the once-love-of-his-life who he ran away from—the very reason Jake had to escape his former life in Canada. Gay love just doesn’t exist, Jake’s father has made it all too clear. But as Jake finds himself helplessly pulled back to Grant, the way he makes him feel when their bodies are close, the way he comforts him—really cares for him—he realizes more and more it’s not love he’s running from, but himself.

Silent Hearts is a 34,000-word erotic romance novel. If you liked Love, Simon, then you’ll love this tale of a gay young man whose true barrier to love is his own self-acceptance.

Buy Silent Hearts now and follow Jake’s adventure of steamy sex, adventure, and the tears that break hearts...and mend them.

“You’re cute when you’re happy.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Thanks, I guess.” He pulled his hands out of the dough and went to wash them.

“What’s this?”

“Hmm?” Jake looked back. Grant picked something up off the floor.

“This fell out of your back pocket.” Grant read from a small piece of paper, “The Brawny Scot.”

Jake’s heart thudded and ice coursed through his veins. He’d gone there as an eff-you to Grant, but hadn’t actually wanted him to know about it. And, truthfully, as the hours passed, he’d grown regretful over going.

“Is that where you were today?” Grant’s voice was low and quiet. There was an intensity in his eyes that Jake had seen only once before — during the previous night and their argument over kisses. Obviously, he knew what The Brawny Scot was.

“So what if I was?” Jake dried his hands with a towel and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms in front of him. He might regret his choices, but he wasn’t going to apologize for them.

“You went to a fucking sauna?”

Jake took a deep breath, deciding which way to go with this. When the heat of anger warmed his cheeks, he had his answer. “Yes, I went. I sucked five dicks and got totally covered in cum.” His words were quick and crisp, though muted so as to not wake anyone.

Grant shook his head. “Do you have no self-respect? No self-love?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“This!” Grant threw the card down on the counter, the oiled-up torso emblazoned across it shone in the kitchen’s light. “Sex with no intimacy, blowjobs with no kissing, sucking anonymous dicks in the dark — it shows you don’t respect yourself, that you just want to be used by some random man as a tool to get off. And this ... this random sauna thing is fucking dangerous! Do you know how many diseases run rampant through there?”

Jake breathed in and out, trying to calm the anger that threatened to erupt. His face felt warm; he knew his cheeks were beet red. “Not all of us want boyfriends. Some of us just want sex. Hookups are fun, and if you think that only self-haters do them and they’re always destructive, then you’re living in some sort of dream world. Welcome to reality, Grant, people fuck strangers all the time.”

Grant squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Jake could tell a lot of the man’s anger had deflated. “That’s not exactly what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, exactly?”

“Kissing adds passion and energy to sex — even anonymous sex. Your refusal to kiss me the other night would have made the blowjob mechanical. If I want mechanical, I’ll use my fist. The motions are only half of sex — kissing and intimacy, however fleeting, are the other half.”

“You need to grow up and separate sex from love. No one at the sauna wants a kiss, they just want to get off.”

“Well, maybe that’s the sauna culture. I have hookups now and then, but I always kiss — it makes a connection special, even if it’s just for a moment and I don’t know the guy’s name.”

Jake glared at him. As much as he wanted to remain mad at him, he felt his anger shrinking. “Why can’t you accept that I just don’t want to kiss?”

“Because in your case, Jake, I sense that it’s something deeper. It’s not just about not wanting to kiss.”

Jake blinked, bewildered. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Have you ever kissed a man?”

“Of course I have.” A chasm opened up inside of him, an emptiness and yearning.

Grant squinted at him. “I mean really kissed a man ... deep, hard, hungry.”