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Monday, April 30, 2012
Monday Madness
Sorry about the late post, was in the hospital from noon yesterday to about two in the afternoon today with chest pain. No mania today, just a lot of tests and a little i.v. potassium. All is well in Casa Noel now, however, and we will resume our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow. :)
Sunday, April 29, 2012
A Snog from William Neale's final book~~ Hope
EXCERPT FROM HOPE BY WILLIAM NEALE:
“Can I carry him?” Spencer whispered a few minutes later.
“Sure, go ahead. He’ll just be pissed tomorrow when he finds out he slept through it.”
Spencer carefully and gently lifted the sound-asleep boy from the daybed, cradling him in his arms. Like a lightning bolt from the sky he was struck with awe. It was a totally unexpected feeling of love and paternal protection he’d never imagined existed in him. In the flash of a second, he understood every reason why Hunter had adopted this boy. He wanted to hold Ethan in his arms like this and watch him sleep for the rest of the night. He looked so innocent and even angelic; it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
“Uh—Spencer,” Hunter whispered with a knowing smile, “we need to go. The door’s this way,” he pointed as he pushed Ethan’s wheelchair in that direction. Whispering their goodbyes to Harvey and Marge, they quietly returned to the warm yellow light glowing from the cracked-open door of the stone cottage.
Just as Spencer began to ever-so-softly lower Ethan onto his bed, the boy opened his eyes and blinked twice in disbelief. “Oh, just wait till I tell Dad what I dreamed,” he murmured groggily. “My friend Spence tucked me in.”
As his head hit the pillow, Ethan’s eyes closed again but a smile remained on his sleeping face. Knowing there was always a chance that Ethan might never wake, Spencer could no longer contain tears in his eyes. He leaned down and kissed Ethan’s forehead and then looked up to see Hunter watching, standing close, smiling.
“My God, what just happened?” Spencer said a minute later, now returned to the living room sofa where they both sat. He brushed his eyes with the back of his hand.
“That, my friend, is why I get up every day.”
“I’ve never felt anything like that in my life. Never. For just a few minutes I felt like he was my son too. It was like an epiphany. Gosh, I hope that doesn’t offend you.”
“Do you know how many potential boyfriends have run away from here as fast as they could as soon as they found out about Ethan?” He paused, blushing. “Not that you’re a potential boyfriend, of course. I’m saying this badly, but know that I’m pleased and honored you like him so much.”
“Would you like me to be a potential boyfriend?”
“Well—uh—I can’t imagine why someone like you would be interested in just a plain looking, ordinary cello player with a sick kid.”
Spencer scooted closer to Hunter and looked him closely in the eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful and extraordinary man than the one I’m looking at right now.”
He gripped Hunter’s neck with one hand and pulled him closer so that their lips touched first tentatively and then with certainty in the emotions Spencer wanted to communicate. And with the connection of their tongues and the dulcet sounds of soft, small moans coming from both their throats, he wrapped his arms around Hunter and pulled him even closer.
Seconds, maybe minutes later, they parted, both breathing heavily. Spencer could feel his erection pressing urgently inside his jeans and he had to force himself to pull away and take a deep breath before things went any further. He felt an attraction for Hunt unlike any he had ever known.
“Wow. Oh wow—I wasn’t expecting that,” Hunter gasped.
“I’m sorry, Hunt. God—I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. That was way out of line and I apologize. I’ll leave right now.”
“No—Jesus—don’t go. I didn’t say I didn’t like it. It’s just—damn—I haven’t been kissed like that in a very long time.”
“You mean you’re okay with it?”
Hunter smiled with a tease in his eye. “Well, maybe to be sure, we should try it again.”
Their second kiss melted into a third, fourth, and fifth until keeping count was entirely a meaningless exercise. Spencer was painfully erect and at some point, he realized Hunter’s hand was gripping his cock through the taut denim fabric of his pants.
“Maybe I really should be going,” he breathed into Hunter’s ear, “before things get out of control.” He couldn’t resist biting lightly on the soft, pink lobe before pulling away.
“Mmmm,” Hunter moaned. “No—please—don’t go.” He lifted up to meet Spencer’s eyes. “Listen—I haven’t asked a man this question in a very long time and that’s the God’s truth…” Hunter glanced away for a brief second to steel his courage. “But would you like to stay the night?”
*****
William's final book, complete with a moving forward by his longtime partner can be found at MLR Press
*****
The original Sunday Snog by Victoria Blisse will
lead you to a wealth of other talented snoggers.
Go On. Get You Some.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Saturday on the Run... with Snark
Hey Babies,
I woulda posted this earlier, but I was doing some volunteer work with a local women's outreach program. It's called The Women's Respite Program, and was started about twenty-five years or so ago by this awesome nun named Sister Diane.
Sister Diane had seen a lot of women in the course of her work who were... well, just plain worn to a frazzle, and who had little to no hope of ever having a realio, trulio vacation. These were women living right at the hard edge of poverty, or fighting the big C (cancer) or Grandmothers suddenly back in the saddle and raising their children's children. Sister Diane thought that was a shame, so she decided to do something about it. What she did was create the retreat.
I went to the retreat last summer and it was truly a turning point for me. I found a place of peace in myself that I never knew was there. I found a love for myself and my fellow women that was uplifting and inspiring in a way I'd never experienced before...
I came away from that wanting to give back. So I do. I volunteer on the steering committee for The Women's Respite, and I love being able to do so. It's a gift and a blessing.
*****
Snark time: I am trying to think of something witty and snarktastic to say... and I'm coming up empty... how about you all just go check out Tian and the boys giving an interview to Cedric over at the Immorytal Revolution?
Here's the addy. http://immortylrevolution.blogspot.com/
Get there now, cause there's free stuff to be had.
I woulda posted this earlier, but I was doing some volunteer work with a local women's outreach program. It's called The Women's Respite Program, and was started about twenty-five years or so ago by this awesome nun named Sister Diane.
Sister Diane had seen a lot of women in the course of her work who were... well, just plain worn to a frazzle, and who had little to no hope of ever having a realio, trulio vacation. These were women living right at the hard edge of poverty, or fighting the big C (cancer) or Grandmothers suddenly back in the saddle and raising their children's children. Sister Diane thought that was a shame, so she decided to do something about it. What she did was create the retreat.
I went to the retreat last summer and it was truly a turning point for me. I found a place of peace in myself that I never knew was there. I found a love for myself and my fellow women that was uplifting and inspiring in a way I'd never experienced before...
I came away from that wanting to give back. So I do. I volunteer on the steering committee for The Women's Respite, and I love being able to do so. It's a gift and a blessing.
*****
Snark time: I am trying to think of something witty and snarktastic to say... and I'm coming up empty... how about you all just go check out Tian and the boys giving an interview to Cedric over at the Immorytal Revolution?
Here's the addy. http://immortylrevolution.blogspot.com/
Get there now, cause there's free stuff to be had.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Thursday Think Tank: Mirror Image
You know, there are so many days that get away from me, days where I have a zillion things to accomplish, and only get about one or two at most done... or so it seems... but today I decided to flip the script and not look so hard at the should do things, but actually take stock of what I've accomplished. And let me tell you, it's quite a bit. :)
Eh, not too interesting a read today, but hey... If you flip the script, and look at what you actually accomplished today, or this week, or month or year... well, how are you doing? Me? I'm rocking the house.
Eh, not too interesting a read today, but hey... If you flip the script, and look at what you actually accomplished today, or this week, or month or year... well, how are you doing? Me? I'm rocking the house.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Wednesday Work in Progress
From The Flight of a Thousand Cranes: An Unedited Excerpt
The bookstore teemed with activity. William stared around the store, barely managing to keep his jaw from visibly dropping open. Same sex couples walked around hand in hand. A man was reading from aloud to what could only be his partner or lover judging from the intimate way they stood pressed against one another. The section they stood in was labeled Erotica. A tendril of fire snaked down from the flower in William’s chest to curl into his groin. He began to move forward, one step at a time, lured by the way the slightly taller man curved into his slightly shorter and far stockier partner.
“I love Johnny Miles’s stuff. I just wish he’d write a whole book.” The taller man snuggled into his partner as he spoke, his eyes drifting over to land on William. William swallowed rapidly, averting his eyes and reaching blindly for the first thing in front of him. A magazine fell into his hand, the name Blueboy blazoned across the front. William flicked it open and nearly swallowed his tongue. Beautiful men stared out from the pages of the magazine, posed in what could only be called provocative ways. The fire in his belly moved lower. He hastily put the magazine back on the shelf and hurried to a safer section of the store.
After poking around for a bit, feeling hopelessly lost, he plucked up the courage to approach one of the clerks and ask for some guidance. With heavily guided assistance, he picked out three likely looking books, the first two of which were Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin, and The Front Runner by Patricia Neil Warren, both romantic and touted by the clerk as must read works of fiction. The third book came about in response to his question as to whether the store had anything uplifting to read about someone with cancer. The clerk looked at him strangely when he asked, but William did not explain. He felt he had bared he soul to strangers as many times today as was possible. Something of what he thought must have shown in his eyes, for the rotund clerk dropped the look and took him, strangely, to the children’s section.
Once there she handed him a book called Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, by Eleanor Coerr. Seeing the little Japanese girl depicted on the cover shook William, but when he tried to hand the book back to the clerk, somehow his fingers refused to release it. He carried the books to the front of the store, and got in line to pay certain he would be able to set the book down before he left, or at least hand it to the clerk and tell them he was not interested.
Finishing up at the checkout counter, William decided to see about getting a coffee. Walking toward the front of the store with a bag in hand containing not one, but two actual gay love stories, William felt easier in his skin. He belonged now, just as surely as the couple he’d seen upon entering the store.
He decided to wait out front for a bit, to see if Jon would come back. It seemed far-fetched… but really what reason could the man have had for promising to come back unless he really meant it? Finding a low wall to sit on, he settled in and deliberated which book to choose. Flipping to the end of The Front Runner showed that one of the main characters died. William dropped the book back into the bag as though it burned his hands.
No.
This weekend was all about life. He had checked the ending of the other novel while he was browsing. It was confusing, but no one seemed to be dead or dying, so he decided that one would do to while away a bit of time. William reached into the bag, but the book that came to his hands was not the intriguing tale of the zany characters residing on Barbary Lane the clerk had told him of. Instead the slim volume detailing the path of a little girl’s hope clung to the tips of his fingers as though determined he should read it right then. A warm breeze blew past, and for just a second William could swear he smelled the warm sage and earth scent of his Nana.
William shrugged. He had nothing better to do and a whole weekend to fill. He opened the book and began to read what the back cover touted as, “Sadako’s inspiring story”. He could use a little inspiration right about now.
A half an hour later, when a heavy shadow fell across his face and the closed book in his lap, William had come up with a perfect plan. He tilted his head back, wondering who could possibly—“Jon!”
His former taxi driver fell back half a step, his face creasing into what William was beginning to think was a characteristic wide white smile. “That’s a fine greeting. I should always have handsome young men calling out to me so enthusiastically. My reputation would be set as the man to be seen with.” As Jon spoke, the corners of his eyes crinkled up until the big man’s eyes seemed to be smiling the very own smiles separate from his mouth.
William jumped to his feet. “Jon, do you know where I can get a tattoo?”
Jon’s brow rippled with surprise. “A tattoo?”
William opened his mouth, words tumbling over one another to escape the confines of his throat. “I read this book and it reminded me of a story my Nana told me a long time ago and I thought I surely don’t have the time to fold a thousand cranes, not even if I had help, and then I remembered I always wanted a tattoo so I thought—”
Jon’s frown fell away, and a chuckle burst out of him. “Hold on, hold on. I think this is going to take a bit of explaining. Why don’t we go get something to eat? You can spend more than a moment to explain what has you so tickled you’re practically dancing with excitement.” Jon paused for a moment, and then continued with some trepidation in his tone. “Please tell me you’re not always like this.”
William took his turn at bursting into surprised laughter. “No, no. I am very quiet usually. I—today has been most unusual. I’d like to eat something. That sounds like a very good idea.” He paused. “I didn’t know if you would come back.”
Jon nodded. “I know. It’s why I hurried.”
William wished fiercely in that moment that his Nana could have met Jon. They would have liked one another, and there was something in Jon… something hurt and sorrowful that William was sure he would not have time to reach, and he wanted very badly to have time to be kind to someone like Jon who had taken the time to see a stranger with what Nana called the Aphrodite Gaze. She told William that if he could look out at the world with the eyes of love, he would never fail to find beauty.
With his back to the street, Jon turned toward the right, and William followed him. “Do you like seafood, William? There’s a place up here that makes soft-shell crab that could tempt a man to sell his mother for.” As he spoke, he placed one of his broad palms on William’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. William eased then, all the places strung tight within him simply loosening. He tilted his head back and back again to look up into Jon’s face. “I’ve never had crab. I like fish though, if that helps.”
Jon’s mouth flapped open and shut with no discernible words coming out. He stopped and turned to fully face William. “Never? There must be a law somewhere. Come on, William. Today is a good day to have your first taste of soft-shell, and I can’t think of a better place to do so than D.C.”
The bookstore teemed with activity. William stared around the store, barely managing to keep his jaw from visibly dropping open. Same sex couples walked around hand in hand. A man was reading from aloud to what could only be his partner or lover judging from the intimate way they stood pressed against one another. The section they stood in was labeled Erotica. A tendril of fire snaked down from the flower in William’s chest to curl into his groin. He began to move forward, one step at a time, lured by the way the slightly taller man curved into his slightly shorter and far stockier partner.
“I love Johnny Miles’s stuff. I just wish he’d write a whole book.” The taller man snuggled into his partner as he spoke, his eyes drifting over to land on William. William swallowed rapidly, averting his eyes and reaching blindly for the first thing in front of him. A magazine fell into his hand, the name Blueboy blazoned across the front. William flicked it open and nearly swallowed his tongue. Beautiful men stared out from the pages of the magazine, posed in what could only be called provocative ways. The fire in his belly moved lower. He hastily put the magazine back on the shelf and hurried to a safer section of the store.
After poking around for a bit, feeling hopelessly lost, he plucked up the courage to approach one of the clerks and ask for some guidance. With heavily guided assistance, he picked out three likely looking books, the first two of which were Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin, and The Front Runner by Patricia Neil Warren, both romantic and touted by the clerk as must read works of fiction. The third book came about in response to his question as to whether the store had anything uplifting to read about someone with cancer. The clerk looked at him strangely when he asked, but William did not explain. He felt he had bared he soul to strangers as many times today as was possible. Something of what he thought must have shown in his eyes, for the rotund clerk dropped the look and took him, strangely, to the children’s section.
Once there she handed him a book called Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, by Eleanor Coerr. Seeing the little Japanese girl depicted on the cover shook William, but when he tried to hand the book back to the clerk, somehow his fingers refused to release it. He carried the books to the front of the store, and got in line to pay certain he would be able to set the book down before he left, or at least hand it to the clerk and tell them he was not interested.
Finishing up at the checkout counter, William decided to see about getting a coffee. Walking toward the front of the store with a bag in hand containing not one, but two actual gay love stories, William felt easier in his skin. He belonged now, just as surely as the couple he’d seen upon entering the store.
He decided to wait out front for a bit, to see if Jon would come back. It seemed far-fetched… but really what reason could the man have had for promising to come back unless he really meant it? Finding a low wall to sit on, he settled in and deliberated which book to choose. Flipping to the end of The Front Runner showed that one of the main characters died. William dropped the book back into the bag as though it burned his hands.
No.
This weekend was all about life. He had checked the ending of the other novel while he was browsing. It was confusing, but no one seemed to be dead or dying, so he decided that one would do to while away a bit of time. William reached into the bag, but the book that came to his hands was not the intriguing tale of the zany characters residing on Barbary Lane the clerk had told him of. Instead the slim volume detailing the path of a little girl’s hope clung to the tips of his fingers as though determined he should read it right then. A warm breeze blew past, and for just a second William could swear he smelled the warm sage and earth scent of his Nana.
William shrugged. He had nothing better to do and a whole weekend to fill. He opened the book and began to read what the back cover touted as, “Sadako’s inspiring story”. He could use a little inspiration right about now.
A half an hour later, when a heavy shadow fell across his face and the closed book in his lap, William had come up with a perfect plan. He tilted his head back, wondering who could possibly—“Jon!”
His former taxi driver fell back half a step, his face creasing into what William was beginning to think was a characteristic wide white smile. “That’s a fine greeting. I should always have handsome young men calling out to me so enthusiastically. My reputation would be set as the man to be seen with.” As Jon spoke, the corners of his eyes crinkled up until the big man’s eyes seemed to be smiling the very own smiles separate from his mouth.
William jumped to his feet. “Jon, do you know where I can get a tattoo?”
Jon’s brow rippled with surprise. “A tattoo?”
William opened his mouth, words tumbling over one another to escape the confines of his throat. “I read this book and it reminded me of a story my Nana told me a long time ago and I thought I surely don’t have the time to fold a thousand cranes, not even if I had help, and then I remembered I always wanted a tattoo so I thought—”
Jon’s frown fell away, and a chuckle burst out of him. “Hold on, hold on. I think this is going to take a bit of explaining. Why don’t we go get something to eat? You can spend more than a moment to explain what has you so tickled you’re practically dancing with excitement.” Jon paused for a moment, and then continued with some trepidation in his tone. “Please tell me you’re not always like this.”
William took his turn at bursting into surprised laughter. “No, no. I am very quiet usually. I—today has been most unusual. I’d like to eat something. That sounds like a very good idea.” He paused. “I didn’t know if you would come back.”
Jon nodded. “I know. It’s why I hurried.”
William wished fiercely in that moment that his Nana could have met Jon. They would have liked one another, and there was something in Jon… something hurt and sorrowful that William was sure he would not have time to reach, and he wanted very badly to have time to be kind to someone like Jon who had taken the time to see a stranger with what Nana called the Aphrodite Gaze. She told William that if he could look out at the world with the eyes of love, he would never fail to find beauty.
With his back to the street, Jon turned toward the right, and William followed him. “Do you like seafood, William? There’s a place up here that makes soft-shell crab that could tempt a man to sell his mother for.” As he spoke, he placed one of his broad palms on William’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. William eased then, all the places strung tight within him simply loosening. He tilted his head back and back again to look up into Jon’s face. “I’ve never had crab. I like fish though, if that helps.”
Jon’s mouth flapped open and shut with no discernible words coming out. He stopped and turned to fully face William. “Never? There must be a law somewhere. Come on, William. Today is a good day to have your first taste of soft-shell, and I can’t think of a better place to do so than D.C.”
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Tantalizing Tuesday
Just because I can.
Heh.
NSFWish
More from Changeless: Raw, babies, and right off the press
Chapter Two ~ Starting at the Beginning
Calvin stared out the window of the Greyhound bus as they pulled out of the bus station in Marquette. He was gonna miss the hell out of Sean. The sun broke the horizon over Lake Superior just as the bus swung onto highway 41 though, and the orange glow over the water seemed to be pushing him forward. These last months in Marquette had been… shitty. Cal couldn’t explain why exactly. Just the whole never been no-where, never done nothing had gotten to the point where it just choked him from morning til night. Sometimes he woke up at two or three in the morning just crushed by the inertia of the place.
Cal wasn’t stupid. He knew for some people Marquette was a destination they’d never been to, someplace exciting and new. Not for him. The town was shitload of bars, a college campus that seemed to house the losers of the nation and the only things that made it worthwhile at all were Sean and the breakwall. And the breakwall had a goddamned fence up across the foot of it now because some dumb punk college kid with all his brains in his dick had gotten drunk and gone out there in a storm.
The boy died, and Cal thought that sucked, but he really couldn’t stand living in a place where it was a big fucking deal that they might get a Wal-Mart in a year or five without at least two things to make life bearable, and now he only had one. And after Sean’s parents both died he might only have none.
Yeah.
Sean’s folk dying was a great big shit sundae. Losing access to the breakwall after that was simply the cherry on top. Cal couldn’t even really be mad at Sean for bailing on their plans—the phone in the pocket of his fleece beeped at him.
“Big dork. You should be sleeping so you have energy when you get to Detroit. :p”
Sean sent the text with a picture attached of him crossing his eyes and sticking both fingers up his nose. Cal laughed.
“Dude. You are soooooooo the bigger dork. Wish you were here man.”
Cal hit send and then wished he could unsend the last sentence. The first one was fine, but the big ole slobbery ‘I miss you, man’ of the last one just reeked of Needy-Neddy-Nerd. He smacked his hand over his face. Guh.
Of course Sean didn’t let him get away with it.
“Nice Neddy moment there, bro. Hahahahahaha. Ur a dork.”
Sean sent five texts in a row then, one right after another. The first was just a close-up picture of Sean, his full lips all puckered up like he was about to lay one on the camera. Cal’s head pounded from the wine they’d drunk the night before and his heart thumped against the inside of his ribcage. In the next one the camera was pulled back far enough to show Sean’s naked chest and his hand pointing to the word ‘my’ written across it. Cal’s heart sped up a little. In the third photo, Cal wasn’t sure what—oh, hell no he didn’t—that was a pic of Sean’s ass.
Cal cracked up loud enough to earn himself a dark look from the bus driver. There were two more messages, and Cal accidentally skipped the fourth one and pulled up number five. A big ole fancy lollipop with rainbow swirls lay centered in the screen. Cal’s eyes grew huge in his face. He looked back down at the pic of the candy, and yep, there was most definitely a minus sign or dashy thing in front of the sucker.
Cal’s fingers flew over the keypad. He didn’t dare open the fourth text in public.
“Holy shit, Sean. Did you just call me a cock-sucker?”
“Sean?”
“Sean?”
The phone sat silent for nearly a half an hour before it beeped again. Cal very carefully closed it. He wanted to l—he wanted to kick Sean’s ass. What if he’d just opened that without paying attention? There coulda been a kid or something. Cal laid his head back against the seat and drifted as the lake slid by on his left. He fell into the first stages of a doze and then the phone beeped again.
“Sorry, bro. Blake had a nightmare, and then it was time to start his breakfast. He’s getting dressed now for school, so I have a few minutes before I have to go to work. Yeah, totally called you a cock-sucker. Even tho we both know that’s all me, lol.”
Cal’s heart squeezed impossibly small in his chest, a frightened mouse of an organ that couldn’t possible keep up with the ongoing demand for blood his six foot three frame called for. He didn’t know how to take Sean sending him a picture of his cock and ass. His finger hovered over the delete button for a full thirty seconds before he decided to keep the pictures. He’d keep them for purposes of potential future blackmail and proof that Sean was the bigger dork of the two of them.
Cal made it almost to the Mackinac Bridge before he looked at the fourth text. He went to the toilet before he opened his phone and pulled the text up, because really, he needed to take a piss. When Sean’s pic pulled up, Cal had just finished pissing, and he was shaking the last drops of urine from the tip of his dick, and the picture surprised him so much his hand tightened on his dick… and well, that’s all it takes when you’re eighteen and it’s been a while, right? So if he just happened to have a picture of his best friend’s cock staring him in the face and fully plump and hard with a drop of cream pearling up at the slit, and if the thought crossed his mind that Sean’s cream might taste different from his… and if that thought had him hard and aching and then coming all over the wall at the back of the nasty little bus toilet… well, that was normal. Right?
Right?
Heh.
NSFWish
More from Changeless: Raw, babies, and right off the press
Chapter Two ~ Starting at the Beginning
Calvin stared out the window of the Greyhound bus as they pulled out of the bus station in Marquette. He was gonna miss the hell out of Sean. The sun broke the horizon over Lake Superior just as the bus swung onto highway 41 though, and the orange glow over the water seemed to be pushing him forward. These last months in Marquette had been… shitty. Cal couldn’t explain why exactly. Just the whole never been no-where, never done nothing had gotten to the point where it just choked him from morning til night. Sometimes he woke up at two or three in the morning just crushed by the inertia of the place.
Cal wasn’t stupid. He knew for some people Marquette was a destination they’d never been to, someplace exciting and new. Not for him. The town was shitload of bars, a college campus that seemed to house the losers of the nation and the only things that made it worthwhile at all were Sean and the breakwall. And the breakwall had a goddamned fence up across the foot of it now because some dumb punk college kid with all his brains in his dick had gotten drunk and gone out there in a storm.
The boy died, and Cal thought that sucked, but he really couldn’t stand living in a place where it was a big fucking deal that they might get a Wal-Mart in a year or five without at least two things to make life bearable, and now he only had one. And after Sean’s parents both died he might only have none.
Yeah.
Sean’s folk dying was a great big shit sundae. Losing access to the breakwall after that was simply the cherry on top. Cal couldn’t even really be mad at Sean for bailing on their plans—the phone in the pocket of his fleece beeped at him.
“Big dork. You should be sleeping so you have energy when you get to Detroit. :p”
Sean sent the text with a picture attached of him crossing his eyes and sticking both fingers up his nose. Cal laughed.
“Dude. You are soooooooo the bigger dork. Wish you were here man.”
Cal hit send and then wished he could unsend the last sentence. The first one was fine, but the big ole slobbery ‘I miss you, man’ of the last one just reeked of Needy-Neddy-Nerd. He smacked his hand over his face. Guh.
Of course Sean didn’t let him get away with it.
“Nice Neddy moment there, bro. Hahahahahaha. Ur a dork.”
Sean sent five texts in a row then, one right after another. The first was just a close-up picture of Sean, his full lips all puckered up like he was about to lay one on the camera. Cal’s head pounded from the wine they’d drunk the night before and his heart thumped against the inside of his ribcage. In the next one the camera was pulled back far enough to show Sean’s naked chest and his hand pointing to the word ‘my’ written across it. Cal’s heart sped up a little. In the third photo, Cal wasn’t sure what—oh, hell no he didn’t—that was a pic of Sean’s ass.
Cal cracked up loud enough to earn himself a dark look from the bus driver. There were two more messages, and Cal accidentally skipped the fourth one and pulled up number five. A big ole fancy lollipop with rainbow swirls lay centered in the screen. Cal’s eyes grew huge in his face. He looked back down at the pic of the candy, and yep, there was most definitely a minus sign or dashy thing in front of the sucker.
Cal’s fingers flew over the keypad. He didn’t dare open the fourth text in public.
“Holy shit, Sean. Did you just call me a cock-sucker?”
“Sean?”
“Sean?”
The phone sat silent for nearly a half an hour before it beeped again. Cal very carefully closed it. He wanted to l—he wanted to kick Sean’s ass. What if he’d just opened that without paying attention? There coulda been a kid or something. Cal laid his head back against the seat and drifted as the lake slid by on his left. He fell into the first stages of a doze and then the phone beeped again.
“Sorry, bro. Blake had a nightmare, and then it was time to start his breakfast. He’s getting dressed now for school, so I have a few minutes before I have to go to work. Yeah, totally called you a cock-sucker. Even tho we both know that’s all me, lol.”
Cal’s heart squeezed impossibly small in his chest, a frightened mouse of an organ that couldn’t possible keep up with the ongoing demand for blood his six foot three frame called for. He didn’t know how to take Sean sending him a picture of his cock and ass. His finger hovered over the delete button for a full thirty seconds before he decided to keep the pictures. He’d keep them for purposes of potential future blackmail and proof that Sean was the bigger dork of the two of them.
Cal made it almost to the Mackinac Bridge before he looked at the fourth text. He went to the toilet before he opened his phone and pulled the text up, because really, he needed to take a piss. When Sean’s pic pulled up, Cal had just finished pissing, and he was shaking the last drops of urine from the tip of his dick, and the picture surprised him so much his hand tightened on his dick… and well, that’s all it takes when you’re eighteen and it’s been a while, right? So if he just happened to have a picture of his best friend’s cock staring him in the face and fully plump and hard with a drop of cream pearling up at the slit, and if the thought crossed his mind that Sean’s cream might taste different from his… and if that thought had him hard and aching and then coming all over the wall at the back of the nasty little bus toilet… well, that was normal. Right?
Right?
Monday, April 23, 2012
Monday Mania
Heh.
Switched it up on you there. Because, well, mother nature is acting all nutty on me today, blustering and blowing honest to gosh snow flurries mixed with blech-cold rain squalls and generally mussing the lovely leafy crown of the tree in my yard that holds magic and mystery for me.
Silas (yes, I've named the damn tree. He looked like a Silas to me.) Anywho, he's pretty determined to make it through to summer with as many leaves intact as possible.
Okay, back to regularly scheduled Monday Madness. I am writing. And Editing when I get a chance. And I have a lot of both to do today.
Could someone possibly arrange to send me about twelve extra hours (kid-free) per day? I mean in addition to the normal twenty-four that come standard with life on earth...
Heh. Running off now. I need to get to the working on my WIPs section of the Cave pronto. I have characters threatening to riot over there.
No, really.
Switched it up on you there. Because, well, mother nature is acting all nutty on me today, blustering and blowing honest to gosh snow flurries mixed with blech-cold rain squalls and generally mussing the lovely leafy crown of the tree in my yard that holds magic and mystery for me.
Silas (yes, I've named the damn tree. He looked like a Silas to me.) Anywho, he's pretty determined to make it through to summer with as many leaves intact as possible.
Okay, back to regularly scheduled Monday Madness. I am writing. And Editing when I get a chance. And I have a lot of both to do today.
Could someone possibly arrange to send me about twelve extra hours (kid-free) per day? I mean in addition to the normal twenty-four that come standard with life on earth...
Heh. Running off now. I need to get to the working on my WIPs section of the Cave pronto. I have characters threatening to riot over there.
No, really.
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