It was one father of a holiday!
Steve’s sister-in-law is about to make him an uncle so he and Billy head to redneck central, the family nest, to help out Steve’s patronising brother Ed. But there are ulterior motives at work: Steve’s parents want more than anything to split up the relationship and welcome Steve back into the family, while Ed wants Billy to help out a mate – or else!
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-60054-607-5
lyd Category: His and His Kisses
Length: 70 pdf Pages / 11382 words
Formats Available: pdf, prc, lit, zipped html,
lrf, epub, RB,
Ebook Cover Price: $3.00
I wandered down the stairs and heard them deep in conversation, plus the clink of weights. It was all very generic, the sort of getting-to-know you small talk straight men are famous for, made slightly uncomfortable in this case because only one of the men was straight. I was about to walk in on them when I head Ed attempt a sort of embarrassed back-handed compliment. “I guess with a body like that you must be the man of the relationship.”
I had to hand it to Billy, he didn’t fudge his reply. “Hell, no. Steve fucks me in the arse every chance he gets. I’m a total bottom. Can’t get enough of his cock.”
“So you guys are, like, married?”
“Not officially, but if you mean are we in a relationship, you bet!”
“No way would I let some dude stick his wiener in my butt.”
Billy sounded unconcerned by Ed’s admission. “Not everyone likes cock in their arse, like not everyone wants to stick their dick in a chick.”
That seemed to set Ed thinking. “Billy, mate. You mind if I ask you some personal shit?”
“Nah, go right ahead.”
“You won’t get sore?”
I peaked around the door which was hidden sufficiently that they would not see me. Billy had stripped to his boxers and Ed had been spotting him while he lifted weights.
Billy smirked. “It takes something mighty big to make me sore.”
His joke fell on deaf ears. Sexual double entendre was not Ed’s strong suit.
“This is, um, strictly private like?”
“That works both ways. Anything I tell you doesn’t get back to Steve.”
“You guys have secrets?”
“Yeah. I thought all couples did.”
“No shit, even fags?”
I thought Billy would tear his throat out for using that word. I was wrong. “Even fags.”
Ed leaned in conspiratorially. “I got a mate, real ladies man, wife, three kids, fucks pussy like there’s no tomorrow. Had business in the city a few months back. Ended up with an invite to one of them American pumpkin carving thingies.”
“You mean Halloween?”
“That’s it. The company he works for invited him. He said he didn’t realise until he got there, it was all fags. He don’t do that shit but the grog was free and there was lots of it and no one made a pass at him...”
He’s either butt ugly or he’s lying, I thought. From the look on Billy’s face, he was thinking something similar.
“This guy is a member of a bowling team me and dad belong to and he was telling us that this gay slut turns up dressed like Tarzan, bugger all on, and, well, you can guess the rest.”
I didn’t have to guess, I’d seen it firsthand.
“No, tell me what happened.”
“Seth, that’s our bowling mate, he says this fag couldn’t hold his grog and soon he was propositioning everything with a dick which meant everyone at the party. Begging to be fucked, he was. Now, we’re used to slags who are ugly as fuck and sloppy to go with it, but he reckons this fag was a real chick magnet, movie star material, with a hot body like he worked out regular.”
Barry Lowe’s dreams of winning the Nobel Prize for Literature faded about thirty years ago when he realised what he wrote best was about the wild, wacky, wonderful world of sex and that his vocabulary would never rival Patrick White’s or even Evelyn Waugh’s. Since then he’s been happily churning out the odd gay sex comedy for stage as well as a mountain of newspaper columns and an avalanche of erotica for print and eBooks. He is also the author of Atomic Blonde, a biography of 1950s sex goddess, Mamie Van Doren. He lives in Sydney, Australia, with his long-term partner, Wally.
Check out his website at www.barrylowe.net.