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Indulgence (A Hero Ensnared #1)

Posted on December 16, 2022 by indieerotica

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?”

Bottoming for the Enemy (Highly Classified #1)

Posted on December 16, 2022 by indieerotica

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.”

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

Posted on December 16, 2022 by indieerotica

“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.

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

Posted on December 16, 2022December 16, 2022 by indieerotica

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.

“Wait.”

“But the tip’s barely in.”

“That’s just the tip?”

The Berlin Underground: 4-Pack Bundle

Posted on December 16, 2022 by indieerotica

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

“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.

Dad Uses Me From Behind to Solve Crimes: The Case of the Church Kitchen Catastrophe

Posted on December 16, 2022December 10, 2023 by indieerotica

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?

Dad Uses Me From Behind to Solve Crimes: The Case of the Church Kitchen Catastrophe is an 11,000-word short story.

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.”

Riding Daddy for Clues: The Case of the Dinner Table Deduction

Posted on November 26, 2022December 10, 2023 by indieerotica

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. Detective Bryce Lecleaux is the reason why criminals avoid the small town of Pembrooke Falls.

This time, though, he’s been handed a case that is too difficult for even his deductive mind to crack. Fortunately, Bryce has a secret weapon in the form of his son, Jeramie.

Riding Daddy for Clues: The Case of the Dinner Table Deduction is a 7,000-word short story.

“C’mere,” Daddy instructed, giving his left leg a pat once he was comfortable. “Climb up on Daddy’s lap, boy. I wanna talk about something.”

Jeramie obeyed immediately. His little legs settled across his father’s lap. One arm wrapped around Daddy’s broad shoulders, stretching as far as it could go. Jeramie’s smile was as big as a kid’s meeting Santa at the mall.

“There,” he said, grinning big as his plump little rear bounced on his father’s thick, muscular leg. “I’m all set, Daddy.”

Daddy was smiling softly as he reached up, brushing his fingers through Jeramie’s hair. “Good boy,” he whispered, combing the long honey-colored locks.

Jeramie and his father both had long hair. Some of Jeramie’s teachers told him that it made him look like a girl. He didn’t care, though.

He liked having things in common with Daddy. They both had the same green eyes and pale skin. Their faces were similar too. They each had a Roman nose, a cleft in their chin, and feet that spread slightly like a duck’s.

Certain things about them that were different didn’t bother Jeramie so much. He loved that his Daddy was so muscular. He also loved the thick hair that covered Daddy on almost every part of his big body. Jeramie especially liked running his tiny fingers through it, the same way that Daddy loved combing through his hair.

“Tell me about your case, Daddy,” Jeramie said beseechingly. “I’m very curious.”

Daddy chuckled, placing a chaste kiss on the top of Jeramie’s head, one that lingered just a little longer than necessary.

“You certainly are,” he agreed. “A very curious boy. Always have been.”

Jeramie tilted his head up. Daddy’s hand left his hair, drawing the fingers out of the soft, silky locks to cup his son by the chin. Slowly, Daddy brought his lips down.

A soft moan escaped Jeramie’s throat as their mouths met. Daddy kissed his son slowly, taking his time to caress Jeramie’s lips with his tongue. A fresh shiver went through Jeramie’s body.

Spying On My Kid Brother

Posted on November 25, 2022 by indieerotica

At twenty-four, Henry is adventurous for being a skinny nerd. But after breaking up with his fiancée, he’s not sure if he’s lucky enough to have the kind of hot and kinky sex he prefers, even if he’s well-endowed enough to impress any horny hookup. That is, until he discovers a secret perk of installing security cameras in his house.

Henry’s barely legal brother, Charlie, is staying over for the weekend. He’s a himbo jock in high school who’s both straight and hot. Charlie may or may not have forgotten about the camera in the guestroom he’s in. But when in private, he definitely hasn’t forgotten how to behave like a naughty little boy whose sexuality is highly questionable.

For Henry, being a voyeur instead of physically involved not only satisfies his kinky desires, but it will also get him to see his kid brother in a whole new and horny light.

Spying On My Kid Brother is a 2,200-word short story.

Holy shit!

I couldn’t believe it. I was in bed late at night, naked with my phone and earbuds. I lifted my glasses from sliding down my nose every so often, my head lowered in focus as I watched something I shouldn’t. With my fist around the shaft of my nine-inch dick, I slowly stroked to what was essentially live porn, stopping every so often. What was wrong with me? I tried hard not to masturbate to what the camera revealed: an illicit act coming from Charlie, my barely legal brother who was all grown up like a fully developed jock.

After a neighbor’s rebellious teen son had stayed here for a few days a while back, he’d stolen from me, prompting me to install security cameras in every room of the house except for the bathrooms.

Little had I known what I’d catch just by turning on my phone’s cam app and switching to the guestroom. Charlie was staying with me for the weekend, and what a weekend of discovery. It was only Friday night, and I wondered if I’d get to see this again tomorrow night.

I was nothing like my kid brother, except for being smooth, and having the same brown hair and brown eyes. My flat-assed twig of a body and boyish face made everyone think I was the younger brother, and it didn’t help that Charlie was taller than me. But I had a much-bigger dick than he did, by the looks of it. Our other major difference was the fact that I was a geek who looked like a typical nerd—proudly so—while he was kind of a himbo.

But why was he doing this to himself? He was supposed to be straight. He’d had girlfriends and was on the football team at the small-town high school here in northern Wisconsin. Yet there he was in the lamp-lit guestroom, caught on cam.

Charlie ground his big bubble butt against the thick dildo that was suctioned to the wall, plowing himself like a horny bottom I’d seen many times on porn—except hotter. He sucked on another thick dildo while jacking himself off with his other hand, both holes stuffed. Every sound he made was crystal clear, from his horny breaths to the occasional moans he let out, erecting my leaking dick even more.

A Brotherly Halloween

Posted on October 27, 2022 by indieerotica

It’s Halloween. Teen brothers, Liam and Lyle, have family over from out of state, leaving them to share a bed. Since they’re only a year apart, they’re pretty close. So close, in fact, that they touch each other in the way blood-related brothers are forbidden to do.

It turns Liam on whenever twinky Lyle roleplays as a submissive girl who needs to be owned, even though Liam continually tells himself he’s straight. His brother gives him the kind of submission his girlfriends never could.

Five years later, it’s Halloween again. And Lyle is back home from graduate school, ready to reconnect with Liam after drifting apart. Lyle is now so sexually experienced that he revels in being a dirty slut. He also hasn’t let go of his cross-dressing fetish as he continues to wear skirts and panties, and being a twink with a boyish face makes it more convenient to fool anyone.

But no matter how many hot men Lyle can get lucky with, his heart will always belong to Liam, the real love of his life. Unfortunately, Liam has a new girlfriend, so he seems to have moved on from their naughty past.

Or has he?

Now that the two brothers are finally home alone, they find themselves in a familiar situation. This time, however, the sexy games they played in the past just might prove that they were an appetizer to what could be the main course.

Dessert included.

A Brotherly Halloween is a 7,500-word short story.

For all of Halloweekend, we had extended family here who had just come from out of state, so the house would be full for the next few days. I shared my bed with Lyle because it wasn’t that big for our two uncles, and we were the only teens, so it made me feel more comfortable. Our uncles slept on an airbed, while all the other rooms were occupied—all women in Lyle’s room. I was used to the sleeping arrangements since they had all been coming here several times a year for as long as I could remember.

Lyle finally returned after taking forever, like a typical girl, probably making sure he was clean back there. The moment he crawled into bed on my right side, my dick grew. Just like plenty of other times, it would happen again tonight. We just had to wait until our uncles fell asleep, which wasn’t too long.

God, my own brother whose blood we shared, both created by Dad’s sperm and popped out of Mom’s vagina. The weird thing was that I didn’t even think about guys in a sexual way. I didn’t get what was so attractive about them. I’d tried watching a few gay porn videos and had been nauseous and really grossed out—that was my answer.

Girls, though? So hot, especially the barely legal teens in porn who looked like sexier versions of the girls at school. But girls were much harder to have sex with here in our conservative Christian town. I wasn’t even sure if Erin wanted to have sex before marriage after she’d recently expressed wanting to get closer to God. I still felt something for her because she was my special girl, but I was horny and really needed to get off.

Our uncles finally snored away, and Lyle pushed Erin’s jack-o-lantern-themed panties down to his knees—one with a carved face printed on the back—and flipped around on his stomach, keeping his green T-shirt on. No one knew I’d stolen a few panties from Erin’s dresser when I’d once been in her room while she’d had to use the bathroom, just for my brother. My heart had pounded hard, but I’d gotten lucky and hadn’t been caught. I’d never do it again, but I didn’t have to anymore.

Lyle started humping the bed in a feminine way, unleashing his true mannerisms that no one but I knew about. No one ever suspected him because he’d been on the high school baseball team and was fairly masculine in front of everyone.

There was nothing but silence between us for a little while except for his small, clipped breaths from the humping. This was our little “game” that led to more. It always started like this.

The Leafy Man of My Dreams

Posted on October 21, 2022 by indieerotica

Ambling down the pristine pavement, I held the blue pot in my hands, its shape resting fittingly. I smiled at it, my only birthday gift this year. Maybe I could nickname it Herby with a silent H, just because. After all, the first plant to help decorate my barebones studio deserved a name. Thus, Herby it was.

But I had to give it a last name the way I did other plants. Herby wasn’t enough. How about Green? No, too obvious. But it should relate to the color green to help me remember the surname more easily. Think, think, think—ah! How about green in German? That’d be grün. But then, replace the umlauted U with double O to retain the pronunciation? Ooh…Groon! Different, but it worked.

Herby Groon.

I reached the apartment building and approached my unit upstairs. I scrambled to open the door while carrying the plant, and I rushed inside to set Herby on the wide ledge of the large window in the living space, the only window of my studio. I smiled at such a sight, my heart warming up with joy. Grabbing my aluminum watering can, I stepped into the kitchen and filled it with an appropriate amount of water, then rushed back to the plant with anticipation. Something about aiming the spout at the dark dirt and letting the water flow to help give Herby the life it needed calmed me. It was bound to be well fed and well taken care of. After all, its needs mattered just as much as a human’s.

I placed the watering can on the floor and licked my lips at Herby. How often did the poor plant need to sap its release? Did it have feelings? Studies showed that plants did indeed have necessary life, a kind of life many people looked at as invalid. Okay, none of it was rocket science, but it was still good information, if just to appreciate all flora.

No, Herby. Its life would never be invalid. It would sit there and become a part of my home, a member of my family that was more than a mere birthday gift.

I wrapped my fingers around the stem and gave it a few strokes, giggling. What was I doing? Well, if Dick could do it, so could I. But my first experience on my own differed from Dick’s demonstration. It took Herby three minutes to sap, and when it did, it overflowed with its sticky sweetness in a more copious amount and slightly faster speed than earlier.

I was struck with a foreign mesmerism forcing me to enter a transfixed state. A force of some kind gently pulled me closer to Herby, making me lean toward the tip of the stem. I stuck my tongue out and licked the sap, sometimes finding my lips puckering into uncontrollable kisses from the sweet seduction. I slurped every drop, licking around the shaft to capture the running streams, consuming all of Herby’s offering of savory juices.

Finished, I stroked Herby some more as soon as greed took over me. More. I wanted it. I needed it. Come on. More. More. More!

And there it was, but not nearly as much as before.

I swirled my tongue around the slit and sucked, refusing to let the sap run down the shaft like before. I stroked it again and again, waiting and waiting, and just a pearl of sap oozed. Oh, well. Maybe Herby had a refractory period like a human man.

Heaviness numbed my eyelids, and my twin-size bed called me. What was going on? It was too early to sleep. Nevertheless, I undressed myself without bothering to change into something else and slid naked under the sheets. A nap couldn’t hurt. No, a nap sounded just about right…

Deep grumbling. Rustling sounds. Was someone walking on the ground of a forest?

I blinked my eyes a few times, but the weight of my eyes still got to me. The warm sheets called me more loudly than the curiosity of the sounds.

More grumbling. Was that a critter? My apartment complex wasn’t supposed to have mice, but even then, they were more on the high-pitch side. What could it be?

“Wee-meck-fook…”