The only cure for his sex addiction is to bang it out of him!
After giving up his body to his brother-in-law as well as his father-in-law and the members of their bowling team in front of his boyfriend Steve, Billy realises he has a problem and sets out to find a cure. But sometimes the cure is worse than the ‘disease’ as he discovers when he joins the shadowy cult organisation, Gay Sex Addickts Anonymous.
Series: Four on the Floor
Ebook ID: 5112_1006
lyd Category: His and His Kisses
Formats Available: pdf, prc, lit, zipped html,
lrf, epub, RB,
I don’t know which was worse, Billy begging forgiveness every five minutes or Billy giving me the best sex I’d ever had in my life. And giving it to me frequently. Much too frequently. Perfection can become very boring indeed. But for sheer fingernails-down-the- chalkboard screechiness, Billy pleading for one more chance is unsurpassed.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, not for the first time. “I don’t know what got into me.”
I was withering in my reply. “My dad and my brother for starters.”
That set him off wailing even louder. If he kept it up I would be forced to leave him, he was doing my head in.
“Billy!” I snapped to get his attention. “I said I’ve forgiven you, now give it a rest.”
He whimpered. “I’ll get help. I won’t do it again.”
“Don’t promise something that’s outside your control.”
“You’re the most important thing in my life,” he said, sidling up to me suggestively. “It’s just sometimes I forget.”
“Then tie a string around your finger so you don’t.”
Billy held his hand up. “A ring would look better.”
I sighed. “We can’t afford it. I’m trying my damnedest to make our finances stretch as far as I can. We’re both only working part-time; it’s a squeeze, Billy.”
Billy pouted. “I’ll go and work in a factory, that should help.”
I shuffled the paperwork aside and held his hands. “No, you’re too good a chef to do that and I’d hate for these magic hands of yours to suffer any damage. Don’t take any notice of me. I’m just grumpy.”
He sank to his knees, a bright smile on his face. “I know just the thing to fix that.”
To get any peace, I would have to allow him to have his way for just a few moments. If I make it sound like a chore I don’t mean to. He had my trousers and underwear around my ankles in record time, my prick straining in the cool morning air after having been brought to full awakening by Billy’s incorrigible mouth. He stripped so expertly I’m sure his clothes are held together with Velcro so he can shuck them quickly. He had lubed his fabulous arse from the one of the various tubes and bottles placed strategically all around our apartment so he was never more than an arm’s length away before I could refuse him.
He squatted on my chair, positioning my prick before jamming himself down on top of me. A small amount of pain made him gasp while I shuddered at the exquisite feeling of his arse muscles stretching to allow me entry. He squeezed on each upward and each downward thrust so that my cock was held firmly by a sphinctral glove. I had never experienced such anal finesse from any other lover and I wondered how I could ever grow tired of this. But I did sometimes. It must have been a flaw in my character.
This particular morning, though, I went through the motions more easily than on other occasions because Billy hurried as he knew I would be late for work if he prologued my ecstasy. This was to be a quickie. I massaged his throbbing dick as he ground himself against my groin. I wanted him to come as well otherwise he would be horny all day and get up to all sorts of mischief.
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.