This story starts well with a great sex scene and then delves into the premise of the story, one half of a couple is interested in having a threesome. This stems from me wondering what a threesome might be like and so I thought if I wrote about one then I might get some idea. I still find the idea strange. I find it difficult enough to concentrate on one lover, never mind two. But then I suppose most threesomes are just about sex and not making love. Too many limbs, too many dicks and too many holes, I still don’t know how people manage it.
I found the threesome difficult to write for it to make sense without just saying, Neil did this to Stephen, Stephen did this to me and I did this to Neil, then Stephen did that to me. It’s still got to be erotic and make the reader horny.
If any reader has had a threesome then please let me know what your experience was, good or bad.
This is another semi-autobiographical story, I’m sure you can guess which part is fictional. It is based on an actual motorbike holiday I took down to Spain where I had an accident very similar to what happened. It even took place before the introduction of the Euro and features the old E111 (pronounced E-One-Eleven) which is now replaced by the EHIC – but now the UK has left the EU even that won’t be valid for us Brits anymore. (Hell, this story is really showing his age.)
It would also be unusual for the Spanish guy at the hotel to be circumcised. I don’t actually remember why I decided to circumcise him, I can only surmise that I wanted to write about a different type of dick.
I think that my earlier stories tend to be overlong, too much preamble and this story has quite a bit of post-able (if that’s a word). I like to think that my writing has got a bit tighter with age, but you can be the judge of that.
I remember learning about dew-ponds somewhere, it may have been one of the times I was bored and browsing Wikipedia. I found the idea of them intriguing and the romantic myth of how they came about. As I mention in the story, they are generally man-made and filled by rain. But why stop reality ruining a good legend.
My story is about two young friends who go exploring and come across a dew-pond. This is just the backdrop to their realisation of their greater love for each other. I did notice, on re-reading the story I don’t actually mention how old the boys are. In case any of you are wondering they are about fourteen.
It has been a criticism recently that I don’t describe my characters too much. That has been somewhat deliberate so that reader could imagine the characters to be what they wanted and be who they find attractive. I’d be interesting to see hear from you to see if it works. So please let me know your thoughts. I have been trying to include more description in my recent writing.
It’s a strange experience to read your old writing and this one is particularly interesting and very autobiographical.
Back when I was in secondary school (age 11 to 16 to those who don’t know) I had a major crush on my friend. I never told anyone about it and I never did anything about. Looking back I never remember him having a girlfriend but I think he is now married with children. When we left school, we did go to the same college (age 16 to 18) but we were in different classes so our paths never really crossed much.
It was my crush for him that made me put distance between us. I knew he was straight so there wasn’t any chance of anything happening between us. There was one moment when I nearly kissed him which scared the shit out of me. He didn’t notice, thankfully. My life would have been made hell if anyone knew what nearly happened.
This short poem (or vignette) is about a time when we had showered after our PE class. He was never bashful and I think he even enjoyed letting other boys look at him. This one moment in time is etched in my mind and one of my favourite memories of him. I miss those days.
This story really shows its age. The playground described has all the equipment from the last century with a big metal slide (Does anyone remember those high slides that went about 12 feet high, with a metal cage at the top? It would be a health and safety nightmare in today’s world. And then the old wooden roundabouts. We used to play a silly game where me and a friend would lie down on the wooden lip, drop a stick as you whirled around and then your mate had to pick it up.)
The story is set on a modern housing estate where I used to live as a child. In the UK, our houses are built very close together and we could see into the back garden of the house opposite. I slept in a small box room at the back of the house but I don’t remember the couple that lived at the back of us having any children, so I never really paid much attention to what was going off behind me.
It wasn’t until several years later that I borrowed the scenario and turned it into a story.
As a kid I remember being incredibly bored during the summer six week holidays from school. I didn’t really meet up with any friends so I just tended to entertain myself.
The story itself delves into my mind as a young teenager who had not yet accepted he was gay and that confusion was how Karl was feeling. I remember just wishing that someone like Scott would come into my life and help me come to terms with myself, but alas he never did. At that age I was never very confident and would never make the first move, or even be forward with my feelings or opinions. Oh how I wish that young man was more confident, but back then homophobia was rife, and where I lived, acceptable.
I hope you enjoy the story.
One other thing, how on earth could I think that a fifteen-year-old boy left alone in the house in the morning didn’t have a wank before he got up. Shocking! That boy really needed to give his cock better attention.
This story was written under the pseudonym, StormWriter. I had totally forgotten that I used that name. It was from my website, Tales from a Storm, and I was the StormWriter. At that time my head was all over the place, like a storm, as I came to grips with who I was, hence the name.
This story was written not long after leaving university and I was feeling let down by the system and the promises that we were all given about getting a degree. I studied Physics and had high ambitions of being in research, but that never came to be. I remember my depression really consumed me in my last year of university and it’s no surprise that I couldn’t get a decent job as I didn’t believe in myself.
The setup is very much from my university days where accommodation wasn’t exactly the best, not like today where students get purpose built rooms with en suite bathrooms. I suppose I am a romantic at heart as I believed that you could meet someone great just going about your day; these were the day before Grindr.
The old mansion house and grounds are based on a location near me and ‘Megan’ used to be the name of our dog. Much of what I wrote back then had an element in my past.
I wrote this story in late 2003 and was probably one of the first gay sex stories I wrote. I had been an avid reader of Nifty for several years but remember I grew tired of reading stories that were predictable or badly written.
I wanted to write a story that tricks the reader into thinking that Pete is going to hook up with the stud walking the beach but then takes the reader in a different direction.
For the most part, I think the story works but it is overlong. There is too much preamble. I still quite like the story and could have been the first part of a steamy holiday romance.
I submitted this story to TommyHawksFantasyWorld website and he published it in December 2003. To accompany the story, he commissioned an artist, Dean Cameron, I have borrowed that picture and used it above to create the story card.
TommyHawksFantasyWorld has changed since publishing my story and is no longer a paysite which hosts his, and other writers, stories. It is now just a place for his stories and a way of him selling the eBooks he created. His stories are well worth a read; I enjoyed them very much when I had access to his site.
This was one of my first forays into serious writing. If memory serves it was written in the mid-90s at a time when I was obsessed with spy thrillers. I suppose it was my feeble attempt to write a spy thriller. Just be warned that this is not a gay story, doesn’t have any sex or gay characters.
There was the start of a second chapter but I think I have lost that now. The story was about a number of the world’s terrorist organisations coming together to form a global terror network and threatening world peace.
I am a massive Bond fan and have read all the Bond novels. Unfortunately, I couldn’t take my story and run with it. I ignored the old adage ‘write about what you know’ and as I know nothing about spies or terrorism, I could never do justice to such a story.
So a few years later I started writing gay romance and erotica. Something those wise guys out there might suggest I also know nothing about.
Resting on blank paper
Left foot perched on right
Elbows drawn tight to flank
Fallen head cocked to the side
Dead except for shallow breath
I was taking an evening class on film studies and I wrote this short poem after watching a young man sitting at his desk. I actually can’t remember what he looked like now, but I must have found him attractive at the time for me to spend my time watching him rather than listening to the teacher. As the lecturer rambled on the sexy young man took the position I describe, he must have been bored too.