Free Gay Fiction Excerpt: Down the Basement II
As promised in the earlier post today, here’s a free excerpt from the sequel to Down the Basement, Down the Basement II: Santa Saturday. It’s a novella that runs about 25,000 words, not a short novel. There’s a difference. And as I’ve done in the past recently with excerpts of this nature, I’ll post the g-rated parts here on google blogger, and then you’ll have to click the link to my WordPress blog to read the rest.
From the raw unedited version:
As the weeks passed, I would sit in class daydreaming about our nights together. Kadin’s SUV had tinted windows all the way around. No one could see inside, not even if they walked up, cupped their hands, and pressed their noses to the window. We’d spend hours back there doing everything from kissing to intercourse. Most times it was hard to keep the SUV from rocking. We explored each other’s bodies and forgot about our inhibitions. He learned quickly that I preferred being the submissive bottom; I learned just as fast that he enjoyed taking control as the dominant top. One night we even fell asleep naked in the back of his SUV in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant. When we woke early the next morning, I was flat on my back and Kadin was on top of me with his arms around my shoulders. I spread my legs, wrapped them around his waist, and whispered into his hear. I told him we’d better get up and get dressed before anyone caught us. He told me no one could see inside, and then he lifted my legs higher and put on another condom.
Then a week before Thanksgiving Kadin picked me up and we went to a parking lot behind a local bowling alley. We parked between two school buses and climbed into the back. After I blew him, he pulled me up to his chest and put his arms around me. I thought this was odd. Whenever I blew Kadin, he liked to lie back while I massaged his balls. He practically went into a deep meditative state, moaning softly and rubbing the top of my head. But this time he seemed animated and filled with energy, as if he couldn’t contain himself.
“I have a favor to ask you,” he said.
I rubbed his wide chest. His enormous pecs were covered with a soft layer of dark hair that made my mouth water. “What kind of favor?” There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for Kadin.
“I have to do an act next week at Santa Saturday,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d do something with me.” He spoke with a cautious, almost hapless, tone.
He nodded. “Something for the variety show. Some sort of song and dance.”
“Ah, well,” I said. Santa Saturday was a charity event that Kadin’s fraternity put on each year the Saturday after Thanksgiving. It was tradition; it kicked off the Christmas season; Kadin’s fraternity had been doing this for over fifty years. The event drew people from the entire campus and surrounding colleges. There were bake sales, fifty-fifty drawings, Chinese auctions, and games. And all the money they brought in went to a local Children’s Hospital. Aside from the D.J. they always hired, each year Kadin’s fraternity put on an outrageous, campy variety show that was always the highlight of the event.
“I’m going to be Santa Claus,” Kadin said. “And I was wondering if you’d be Mrs. Santa Claus. You could get dressed up in a sexy Mrs. Santa outfit like the costume you wore to the Halloween party. Something with a short red dress and spiky red high heels.” Then he ran his hand down my right side and slipped his fingers into my ass crack.
I took a quick breath and swallowed back. He knew this was my weakest spot. My body turned to mush whenever he touched me there with his large fingers. “Are you serious, Kadin?” This was the first time he’d mentioned drag to me since the night we’d met. For the longest time, I wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it.
“Dead serious,” he said. “It could be fun. And, it’s a way for us to be together in public. I’d like that. I can tell everyone you’re my date.”
His fingers were sliding toward my opening. My legs were parting and I was squeezing his bicep. “I’m not sure about his, Kadin. I only did drag that one time and I wasn’t all that comfortable then. I’m not sure I can pass as a woman with all those people around.”
“But you were great. All the guys thought you were a woman. They had no idea.” Then his voice dropped and he bit my neck. “And I thought it was hot. I’d love to see you do it just one more time.” He pressed his palms together and quirked his dark eyebrows. “Please.”
“There’s a lot of preparation involved,” I said, remembering Halloween. I had passed as a woman that night. And so well I wound up taking on a group of guys wearing football uniforms in the basement, which is how Kadin and I actually met. “And you didn’t give me much time.” The last time it had taken me two months to prepare. I didn’t know if I could do this in just one week.
He started to beg. “Please do it just this once. I never ask for much. And, it is for charity. I’ll never ask again.”
He was right about not asking for much. He was the most attentive, articulate lover I’d ever met. When he was inside me, he only cared about what I was feeling and if he was pleasing me. We didn’t just have sex: we made love. So I laced my fingers around his thick neck and said, “Okay. I’ll do it just this once, and only because it’s for charity.”
He smiled so wide his nose twitched. He made a fist and punched me playfully in the ass. “You’re the best. I was worried you’d turn me down.” Then he climbed on top of me and buried his face in my neck.
I caressed the back of his head and sighed. “I just hope I can pull this off without anyone recognizing me.”
“You’ll be great,” he said. “The only thing you’ll have to worry about is keeping the other guys away from you. The last time they couldn’t wait to lift up your dress.”
How could I forget? My jaw ached for two days straight.
The next morning I started working on my outfit. Kadin said he’d be wearing a traditional Santa suit, so I figured I’d play it safe and wear a traditional Mrs. Santa suit. I scoured the internet searching for costume shops and web sites that catered to transvestites and entertainers. I found a few kinky, sexy, Mrs. Santa outfits online, but no one could guarantee that I’d received these outfits within a week’s time.
When I realized I’d have to go out and physically shop, I did searches for shops within a fifty mile radius of my school. There were more than I’d imagined there would be. And I finally stumbled across a shop called, Le Exotique. This shop was about forty miles away. It catered to anyone and everyone with a kink, fetish, or passion to dress up in fantasy clothes. I called first and asked about a sexy Mrs. Santa suit. The sales clerk told me they had three different styles in stock and that it would be best if I came in person and tried them all on.
So the next morning, a breezy autumn Saturday with a bright blue sky, I hoped into my car and drove sixty miles north. It’s a good thing the upcoming week was a slow time for me. I’d taken my mid-terms already and I knew I wouldn’t miss anything if I cut a few classes. Most people took off early that week. It was almost expected. I not only had to pull a costume together I also had to rehearse the act with Kadin. He said we were doing something kitschy and Christmassy. He promised me it was supposed to be campier than realistic. But as much as I cared about Kadin, I wasn’t taking his word. If I was going on a stage to perform, I was going to be well rehearsed and ready for anything.
Le Exotique was located on a back street in a touristy little town I’d never visited, the kind of place people from the city go to for daytrips to kill time when there’s nothing better to do. I had to park on the street and fill a parking meter, then walk two blocks north and one block east. The shop itself was nothing more than a converted row home, sandwiched between a small modern art gallery and a candle shop displaying all those new flameless candles everyone was raving about. The clapboards of Le Exotique were pale pink and the trim was soft lavender. I turned to view the flameless candles and tilted my head, wondering whether or not flameless candle was an oxymoron.
The owner of Le Exotique was unlocking the front door as I approached, a guy in his mid-thirties with dark wavy hair down to his shoulders, a scruffy goatee, and ripped jeans. He was a cross between a rock star and a jock. He carried a sandwich board sign down four concrete steps and placed it on the edge of the sidewalk. When he looked up at me, he nodded and said, “Good morning. I’m just opening. Feel free to take a look inside and if you need anything I’ll be inside in a minute.” The sandwich board sign read, “SALE,” in bold red letters. The owner had two thick silver earrings in each ear, a silver bolt through his nose, and more silver chains around his neck than I could count. I noticed his black leather boots: narrow pointy toes and a three inch Cuban heel. They weren’t quite western and they weren’t exactly biker boots. But something about them made my heart skip a beat.
I thanked him and went inside. When I looked up, I pressed my palm to my chest and sighed. For such a small space, the shop was filled with merchandise that catered to every fetish, kink, and fantasy ever invented. There were whips and chains above my head, hanging from rafters in haphazard positions. To my right were racks of dresses that ran down the entire right side of the shop. To the left were glass cases filled with sex toys that included everything from black rubber plugs to dildos the size of large eggplants. I gaped at the cock ring display. I blinked when I noticed an entire case filled with fake breasts in every size, shape and color. And I nearly lost my balance when I saw a mannequin wearing crotchless a nun’s habit with a slit up the side.
The moment the owner walked inside I crossed to him and said, “I need help.” Then I told him what I was looking for, that I didn’t have much time to spare, and that I’d appreciate his help. I spoke fast, with an even tone.
When I finished he just stood there gaping at me. “I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” he said, rubbing his goatee, looking me up and down. “What are you, about five feet seven?”
I nodded yes and said, “Exactly.”
“It should be simple to get you fitted into the perfect Mrs. Santa outfit,” he said. Then he looked me up and down again and smiled. “I’m just surprised, is all. You look like a typical college kid to me. You remind me of that actor. Can’t think of his name.”
“Zac Ephron.” I got this all the time. I didn’t think I looked like him, but other people did.
“Yes,” the guy said. “But you have lighter hair. It’s more of a sandy blond.”
I smiled. “And mine is natural.”
After that, the guy led me to the back of the store where there were dressing rooms and the windows were covered with heavy black draperies. He searched through a few racks and pulled out three different costumes. “These are the three Mrs. Santa costumes I have. If you don’t like them, we can always pull something together off the racks. Do you have shoes, or will you be needing them, too?”
I gazed down at the costumes hanging from his hand. They were all red with white fur trim, all very short, and one of them looked so narrow it resembled a scarf instead of a dress. “I’ll need shoes, too.” I wanted something in red. I could have used the shoes I’d worn for Halloween, but I figured since I was already buying an entire outfit I may as well spring for the shoes and do it right.
“What size shoe are you in a man’s shoe?”
I took the costumes from his hand and headed to the dressing room. Without thinking twice, I said, “I’m either a size ten or eleven in women’s heels, depending on how they are made.” I’d been through this before; I knew what I was doing.
He smiled. “How high of a heel do you want?”
I pushed the pink curtain aside and said, “The highest heel you have in red, in my size.” Then I closed the curtain and unzipped my jeans.
The first Mrs. Santa costume I tried on was the short red Lycra affair that resembled a scarf. Good thing I’d worn a tight thong to pack down my dick. When I slipped it over my head and pulled it down below my waist, it barely covered my crotch. I stepped out of the dressing room to view the costume in the full length three-way mirror. The guy was leaning against a rack and there a couple of pairs of red high heels resting on top of the rack on a glass shelf. He took one look at me in the tight red dress and his jaw dropped. He rushed to the mirrors and said, “Wow.”
My tone remained serious. I gazed into the mirror to see how the dress fell over my hips. “Is that a good wow or a bad wow? Be honest. I don’t want to make a fool of myself. I’m going on stage in this costume.”
He handed me a pair of red pumps with a six inch heel, dripping in ruby sequins. “Wow in a good way. It’s perfect.” Then he went down on one knee and reached for my right ankle so he could slip the high heel on my foot.
I would have put on my own shoes, but he seemed so eager I didn’t want to disappoint him. I knew he was looking up my dress; I saw his eyes tilting. So I reached down to hold his shoulder for support and lifted my right leg. He held my calf gently and put the shoe on very slowly, caressing my instep with his large, thick fingers. When he repeated this move with my left foot, I lost my balance and almost feel over. But he grabbed the back of my right leg just in time. And as I found my footing and looked into the mirror, his hand went all the way up the back of my leg and rested firmly on the bottom of my ass.
I smiled and rolled my eyes. He squeezed my flesh and pursed his lips. I’d had a feeling he was horny, only I hadn’t expected him to make such a bold move right there in the store. After all, anyone could have walked in and caught him with his hand up the back of the dress. I smiled and said, “Excuse me, but I think you have your hand up my dress.” Then I laughed and shook my head.
He gaped at my legs and slid his hand all the way up the back of the dress until it rested in the middle of my ass. Then he smiled and said, “You have smooth skin. You’re not wearing underwear.”