Category: public sex

Free Excerpt: Gay Sex; Straight Women; Public Sex Danny Brown

Public Sex Danny Brown

Rapper, Danny Brown, had oral sex on stage this year and he talked about it everywhere on social media. At the time, he mentioned something about sexual assault. It turned out to be false. From Brown:

I gave up on trying to be a dad to Kitty Pryde. I didn’t want her to write that piece. People get their dicks sucked every day, B. It shouldn’t be a big deal. I just felt embarrassed because I wasn’t all the way hard yet. With a little more time she could have got the full power.

You can read more here, where there are links to Kitty Pryde and a good deal more of what it’s like to be on the road with a rapper. I love rap music. I love these dumb promotional pieces. I found it interesting and highly entertaining to see just how far some will go for attention.

As a side note, I read snark about Danny Brown not being hard, as if this is the most important thing all men are required to do in life. And God forbid they don’t live up to that expectation. That’s sexist against men. You know how most men say, “It’s not you, it’s me,” when things don’t go as planned in bed. Well, most of the time that’s a lie.

Free Excerpt: Gay Sex; Straight Women

I’ve been wanting to post this excerpt from The Women Who Love to Love Gay Romance, but there’s been a lot happening lately. So I decided to make a point of doing it today. The following free excerpt is from a short story trilogy by Bella Stanberry. Because of its adult nature I’ll post the g-rated part here on google blogger and you’ll have to click the link to read the adult version at my other web site,

From the raw unedited version:


On the night of Luke’s twenty-first birthday…the actual date, not a day before or two days later…Gina picked us up in her Mercedes and we drove into Manhattan through the Lincoln Tunnel and parked in an indoor garage in the theater district. Although Luke and I would have been happy to eat near the theater, Gina had flatly refused to “sit with the fucking tourists in a toned down version of what Times Square used to be,” and we took a cab to the trendy restaurant in Chelsea where she’d made reservations. After that, we took another cab back to the theater with barely enough time to take our seats as the curtain went up.
            After the show, we took another cab to a gay bar in Hell’s Kitchen called Therapy, where we ordered a round of martini’s and sang Happy Birthday to Luke. I wondered how he would feel in a gay bar, but he stood there with a casual smile and not a hint of discomfort. While Gina and I were singing, a nice looking guy who reminded me of one of the drunken frat boys who had fucked me on the web cam once walked over to Luke and put his arm on Luke’s shoulder. He smiled and said, “Happy Birthday, handsome.”
            If Luke felt uncomfortable at that moment, he didn’t show it outwardly. He smiled and said, “Thank you.” And then he put his arm around me and said, “My boyfriend took us to the theater tonight to celebrate.”
            Well. No one had informed me I was dating Luke. I rubbed Luke’s stomach and smiled.
            The guy who looked like the drunken frat boy sent me a snarky glance and said, “Isn’t thatnice.” Then he left without another word, never to be seen again.
            When the nasty little guy was gone, and I realized Luke’s arm was still around me, I glanced at Luke and asked, “What was that all about, boyfriend?”
Gina laughed and said, “Pretend you’re Luke’s boyfriend while we’re in here. It’s easier that way. If they think he’s alone they’re going to be hitting on him. And if they think he’s with me they’ll never believe he’s straight and they’ll only hit on him more. We’ve been through this before, trust me. It’s easier this way, honey.”
            I knew she was right. Gay men love to believe straight men in gay bars are really gay. When word that Luke and I were there as a couple spread through the bar faster than e-mail, no one hit on Luke again and we finished our drinks in private. I was curious about one thing, though. When Luke removed his arm from my shoulder, I asked, “Don’t you feel awkward in here with all these gay guys? They are looking at you like they want to eat you alive.” Even though no one came up to him again, he continued to get stares and whispers.
            Luke laughed and said, “It’s cool, man. I know who I am.”
            Gina and I exchanged a quick glance.
            Then Gina shrugged and said, “It’s really no different than when you and I go to straight bars and women come up to you, Cole. They don’t know you’re gay and they want to get into your pants. Does that bother you?”
            I thought about that for a moment and said, “I feel a little uncomfortable, but I think it’s flattering. For the most part I don’t mind.”
            “That’s exactly how I feel,” Luke said. “It’s flattering.”
            At that moment, watching his calm expression, I felt such an overwhelming sense of respect for him I wanted to hug him as hard as I could. But I didn’t want Luke to misunderstand and think I was trying to come on to him, so I smiled instead and said, “I guess it’s the same thing no matter how you look at it.”

By the time we returned to Gina’s car, she asked Luke to drive home because she wanted to stretch out in the backseat and sleep. She’d always been like that, one of those people who could fall asleep in a moving car and never give it a second thought. We once drove all the way to Provincetown and she slept through the entire trip. She said it helped pass the time. So I sat up front with Luke all the way home and we talked about the play we’d seen that night. Although we had discussed books in the past, I was amazed at some of the observations he’d made about the characters, the plot, and even the sets in the play. To my own chagrin, I’d thought of Luke as a nice, good-looking jock type who cared more about working out and playing soccer than studying. And when I discovered he went so much deeper I almost wanted to apologize aloud to him for not giving him the credit he deserved.

When we were only a few miles from home, Gina suggested we go back to Luke’s apartment for one more drink to celebrate his birthday. “It’s only two in the morning,” she said. “And I’m wide awake now.”

I wasn’t tired, but I felt awkward about going back to Luke’s with them. “Maybe you should drop me off at the dorm first. You two probably want to celebrate alone tonight.” I figured Gina had a few secret birthday plans for Luke that didn’t involve me. And I didn’t want to put them in the awkward position of asking me to take a hike. As it was, I was beginning to feel a bit intrusive.

Luke grabbed my wrist and said, “No way, dude. We both want you to come back with us.”

“Seriously,” Gina said.

So I nodded and said, “Okay.”

On the way up the steps that led to Luke’s garage apartment, we whispered and giggled so we wouldn’t wake the older couple who lived in the main house. When we entered the apartment, Gina went into the small bedroom to use the bathroom and Luke gestured to the living room and told me to make myself at home.

While I glanced at the neat apartment with shiny hardwood floors, an exposed wall of brick, and huge clean windows, Luke went into the small recently renovated kitchen and made three martinis. I walked to a black leather sofa facing a large flat screen TV and sat down in front of a long glass coffee table. For a single guy, I was amazed at how well he kept the place…even his desk was neatly organized, with even stacks of books and a laptop screen so clear and free of smudges and dust it looked as if it had never been used before. It even smelled clean in his apartment: wax and pine soap. When I thought about how I’d left my dorm room that night with a stack of dirty underwear and socks next to my bed I felt a twinge of guilt. My roommate was even worse. I’d seen him throw jock straps and sweat socks over lamp shades.

When Gina returned to the living room area, I was surprised to see she’d changed her clothes. She was wearing one of Luke’s white button down shirts and nothing else. The shirttails covered all of her private parts when she was standing. But when she sat down on the other end of the sofa I could see she wasn’t wearing any underwear. I didn’t say anything. And all she said was, “It’s so good to get into something comfortable.”

A moment later, Luke walked into the living room area with a small tray and three ice cold martinis in cocktail glasses…not actual martini glasses. Gina made a snide remark about the glasses and he ignored her. When he rounded the corner and slid between the glass coffee table and the black leather sofa, I noticed he’d removed his pants and he was wearing gray boxer shorts with tiny black diamonds. When he set the tray on the table, I saw a couple of joints, an ashtray, and a small red cigarette lighter. He sat in the middle of the sofa, between Gina and me, and spread his legs so wide I noticed the fly in his boxer shorts open up. I quickly looked down at my lap so no one would think I was looking at his crotch. I wanted to lean over and peek inside, but I didn’t want him to think I was like those other guys back at the bar in New York.

“Hey, we need some fucking music,” Gina said.

“You’re right,” said Luke, and then he leaned toward me and reached for a remote device that controlled a sound system for his iPod on the stand where his flat screen TV rested. He didn’t seem to have any set musical preference. He pushed a button and Mumford & Sons started to play.

We all reached for a drink and Gina made the toast. “Here’s to turning twenty-one years old today,” she said. She lifted her glass higher and laughed. “Now it’s legal for you to do anything you want, Luke. And I hope this will be a night you’ll remember.”

After we clicked glasses, we sat back on the sofa and Luke lit up a joint. As we passed it around, we joked about the classes we were taking, some of the professors we all had in common, and about this one guy who went to our gym and always smelled of garlic when he perspired.

The conversation took a slight turn when Luke lit the second joint. He passed it to me and said, “So are you still seeing that creepy frat dude?”

I laughed. He took me by surprise and I was so stoned I didn’t know what else to do. “I’m not actually seeing him anymore,” I said. We hadn’t officially broken up; it had just tapered off. “I mean it’s not like we were engaged or anything so it wasn’t an actual break up. We got together sometimes; we don’t anymore. I like dick; he had a nice dick.”

Gina howled. “I like dick, too.” She loved dirty talk. Not outright filth. The harmless kind of dirty talk you can laugh about.

Luke nodded and said, “I see.” Then he stared at me and said, “How come you’re the only one sitting there in clothes. Take those pants off, man. Get comfortable.”

My face grew warm. I didn’t know how to respond.

Gina laughed and said, “He’s a shy little bird. He’s afraid to take off his pants.”

She knew me too well. I sat up and said, “I’m not afraid to do anything.” Then I stood up, kicked off my shoes, and pulled off my pants.

Only I’d forgotten that I was wearing a thong that night instead of underwear. When Gina saw this, she pointed and said, “Now that’s more like it.”
Luke laughed and slapped the back of my thigh. “Go dude. I want underwear like that.”

I was so wasted by then I didn’t care anymore. I gave Luke a playful shove for slapping me and sat down on the sofa again. When I shoved Luke, he fell into Gina and she spilled her martini on his leg. She started to laugh, and Luke turned to me and shoved me harder than I’d shoved him. I shoved him back, we all started laughing, and Luke wound up on top of me. He pinned me to the sofa on my back and held my arms down so hard I couldn’t stop laughing. He was stronger than I was, but I didn’t fight back as hard as I could have. The truth is I didn’t want him to stop.

While he hovered over me, laughing at how simple it was to control me, Gina leaned over and yanked his boxer shorts down to his knees. When I looked up and noticed he had a full erection, I blinked and said, “Dude, put that thing away.” Gina hadn’t exaggerated about his dick.

Although most guys would have seen all this coming way ahead of time, I guess I’ve always been slow to recognize the simplest things. I still thought we were all just hanging out like friends, getting stoned and listening to music. It never occurred to me that Luke wanted more that night, or that Gina wanted more, too. I didn’t fully grasp the moment until Gina pushed Luke forward and said, “Make him suck it, Luke.”

The next thing I knew Luke’s knees were next to my shoulders and his half of his erection was in my mouth. Even if he had given me time to think about this, I doubt I would have refused. While I took him, Gina stood up, she removed the white shirt, and she started to kiss Luke while I sucked him off. After that, Luke wound up on the sofa naked, with his legs wide open. As he leaned back and closed his eyes, he held both of our heads in his palms while we took turns between his legs.

We all wound up in Luke’s bed that night, with Luke in the middle, Gina to his right, and I was on the left. Although it’s still a blur to me because we were all so wasted, I do remember a few details. I made out with Gina in Luke’s bed while Luke took turns between our legs. I also remember kissing them both at the same time, with Luke on top of us rubbing his hairy legs between our smooth legs. At one point, Luke put on a condom and told us to get up and spread our legs. I hesitate to go into any more details about this because what happened that night wasn’t just about sex between three wasted fools. I didn’t know this at the time. We connected in a way I didn’t think was possible, with the kind of emotional intimacy I never thought I would find. I already loved Gina in a very special way. But didn’t realize how I felt about Luke, at least not emotionally. He made it all so simple and natural that night what we shared became something beautiful and scared. I discovered a calmness about Luke that balanced out Gina’s wild energy.

When I opened my eyes the next morning, my head was on Luke’s shoulder and my hand on his chest. I felt panicky when I realized what had happened the night before and all I wanted to do was get up and run out of the apartment so I wouldn’t have to look either of them in the eye. Gina would think I was trying to steal Luke. And Luke would think I’d seduced him and taken advantage of him while he’d been stoned. Then I thought about the way Luke had fucked me and I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. At that moment, I wasn’t certain I could ever face him again.

As I turned to get climb out from beneath the covers without waking them, Luke grabbed me, pulled me closer, and asked, “Where are you going, man?” He threw his leg over mine and I felt his erection in my side.

I hesitated. I didn’t know what to say. I wondered if he remembered what had happened. “I guess I should leave now.” I wanted to get out of there before Gina woke up. I wasn’t sure I could ever face her again. Gina had never been wasted enough in her life to forget anything.

“It’s early, man,” Luke said. “Let’s stay in bed for a while.” Then he kissed me on the lips and rubbed his bare foot against my leg.

Gina moved closer to Luke. She didn’t open her eyes, but she said, “That was hot last night, guys.”

“Cole wants to leave,” Luke said to Gina.

She yawned and said, “Cole, shut the fuck up and go back to sleep. It’s too early to get up.”

When she said this, I figured she was okay with what had happened the night before, so I reached down and cupped Luke’s balls in my palm and I went back to sleep.

Public Sex At Lake Mead; 2013 Great American Fiction Contest; Nasty Gay Men in Coffee Shops

When I was writing “The Vegas Shark,” the next book in my bad boy billionaire series, I had to do some research for Lake Mead for a scene that’s probably one of the most pathetic and vicious I’ve ever written. I don’t want to give any spoilers, but I can say it has something to do with sex in public, public nudity, and something most people would never do to their worst enemy.

And while I was researching information for Lake Mead, I came across an interesting article about sex in public without even looking for it. I thought I’d just get basic maps and facts about trails. But I soon discovered that public sex must be something fairly popular for a lot of people, and not only at Lake Mead.

This link will take you to a website called “Private Hiding places.”

This page is dedicated to the disclosure of secluded little places that abound at Lake Powell, perfect for a little hanky panky. These places are too small to camp at and at least a half mile from the nearest camping area. We’re talking tiny beaches just big enough to beach a small boat or PWC, but up on shore you’ll find another sandy area, comfortable, but hidden around a corner, or over a ledge.

And then, of course, there’s the infinite Tommy Lee, Pamela Anderson, sex tape that was shot at Lake Mead. If you haven’t seen it, you might be surprised to see just how gifted Tommy Lee truly is in one specific department.

Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee tied the knot on the shores of Cancún in February 1995. Shortly after they got busy with making sex tapes. It is speculated that the infamous sex tape, which set the standards for celebrity sex tape and was widely circulated, was shot sometime in 1995. The most interesting part was shot on a boat on lake Mead.

So it seems that public sex is more popular than even I thought it was. And I was only doing basic research about Lake Mead. This has nothing to do with my own private research on the East Coast. There are Dunes in Provincetown, MA, where I’ve spent some interesting afternoons. Of course no one will ever admit to this; they don’t want anyone to know what they are doing. I know one guy who will swear (in front of his partner) nothing ever happens in the dunes when he’s out there alone. But it happens often, especially during the off-season after Labor Day.

2013 Great American Fiction Contest

I still get a few print magazines, and in this month’s Saturday Evening Post I read a story by the winner of the 2013 Great American Fiction Contest. You can read more about the contest here, and here’s an excerpt from the winning story title, “Wolf,” by Lucy Jane Bledsoe. By coincidence, the characters in the story are at a park…but no public sex in this one!

 I wasn’t exactly happy with Jim wanting to change his name to Anatoly, but I tried to roll with it. Change is good 
in a relationship, right? That was the whole reason we went to Yellowstone 
in the first place, to zest up our marriage, have a little fun, do something new.

 I didn’t think we needed an overhaul, though. Nor did I think the change needed to bleed outside our marriage. But after the first trip to the park, he started asking our neighbors to call him Anatoly. It was embarrassing.

“Been reading our Dostoyevsky, have we?” said our next-door neighbor Clarence, pleased with himself for dredging up a literary reference.

There’s a reason why this story won the contest. It’s well written and doesn’t make any of the offensive mistakes I often see new writers make in e-books. I know there’s no definition of what good writing is. And I’m not trying to define it now. I also make allowances for little things I find offensive if the story is really good. But there are a few things about writing bad fiction that shouldn’t be ignored. In order to know this, you have to have read some good fiction. One of them is dealing with dialogue tags.

To see what I mean all you have to do is read the above excerpt a few times. It’s simple, tight, and clean. No one “barked longingly,” or “wretched lovingly.” Clarence “said.” He didn’t “quip” or “joke.” I don’t think there’s anything that annoys me more than said bookisms used too often. There are cases where it’s okay; there are exceptions to every rule. But if I see them all the time I stop reading.

In any event, here’s a link to read the story in full. And I think they talk about the 2014 contest if anyone’s interested in submitting work.

Gay Contradictions

This is actually something that came up yesterday while I was going over copy edits from the publisher for “The Vegas Shark.” For some reason I’m not sure I understand, I feel close to this book in ways I don’t feel about other books I’ve written. And nothing in this book is even remotely connected to my real life…or even past experiences. It’s pure fiction in that sense.

In one of the notes from the copy editor…a woman…I found something interesting I wanted to share. Nowadays we see a great deal of information about gay men on social media, but that information doesn’t always represent all gay men, especially gay men of a certain generation. We see the politically correct types crying bully all the time, while they are close to crossing the bully lines themselves and don’t even realize it. One dear, sweet reader I know who is in a situation where he can’t come out of the closet now…or maybe ever…recently told me a story about how a group of nasty gay men bullied and ridiculed him in a public coffee shop just because of the way he looked and the way he was dressed. That infuriates me to no end. Had I been there, I would have buried those nasty little queens and I probably would have been kicked out of the coffee shop. Unfortunately, we only see this type of gay man lately…the vegan hispter type with the puff of hair sticking up above his forehead…and that’s not all there is to gay men.

So I had to politely explain a scene and a character to the copy editor and it wasn’t easy. The biggest frustration for me is that I’m the gay man and I don’t like to be questioned about being a gay man or my experiences as a gay man. It’s one of the main reasons I never question anyone else. But I know the copy editor and I know she had good intentions. And I don’t blame her at all for not getting it at first because the contradictions within gay culture run so rampant it’s hard to keep track sometimes.

Here’s a quote from the book. I had to add this make it clear, and to show the copy editor what I was trying to say. I thought it would be clear just from what I’d already written. Evidently I was wrong, and I figured if she didn’t get it, readers might not get it either. Frankly, I’m not sure they will get it now. But that’s all she wrote, so to speak.

When men did touch the strippers, which they often did, it happened fast and no one talked about it. Chickey said he didn’t like it, but never really screamed at anyone for doing it. As a gay man of a certain age, Chickey was often filled with contradictions most people wouldn’t understand. He came from a generation of gay men that cared more about where they’d find their next big penis than rainbows and equality. And the only thing he liked better than big penis was money.