Book Release!!! Woot!!!

From Total e Bound… We give you Out of Bounds! LOL YEAH!!!






‘Making the Pass’ by Cheryl Dragon

On the field and in bed, Aiden and Jack are a perfect match. But when reality and pride interfere, will they be able to become a team

Aiden and Jack are both hot, gay men and play weekend football for the Griffons. Their similarities end there. Jack is blue collar and sees both the
attraction to Aiden and the divide between them. His career is delivering packages to fancy offices, including the one where Aiden works. On the field, they spark and win, but it takes a friend’s nudging before Jack turns the mutual macho posturing to passionate sex.

The physical connection between Aiden and Jack is easy, but they’ll need extra practice for the relationship part. Aiden tries to fit in with Jack’s friends, but when Aiden invites Jack to an office party, Jack refuses. Thankfully, the rift won’t stop the game from progressing, and neither man is a quitter!

Reader Advisory: This story contains a white collar geek, a blue collar stud, and rough sex from a locker room to a fancy office. Contains scenes of anal sex, sex toys, fisting and love between two consenting males.

‘Crossing the Line’ by Megan Slayer

Opposites can attract and sometimes come together with explosive results.

Ryan Malone punts for the Dragons and likes his life as an art restorer. Love isn’t in his game plan—unless Paul Toth is involved. They’ve known each other forever but have never taken the next step. Ryan’s not sure if Paul can accept his kinky needs. All it takes is one chance to see if sparks will fly.

Paul’s ready and willing to snag the sexy punter. He doesn’t care what team Ryan plays for as long as he’s got Ryan at night. But Ryan’s holding something back.
Can Paul unlock whatever he’s hiding before their burgeoning affair gets struck down by penalties?

‘Line of Scrimmage’ by Stephanie Burke

Can Dolton and Dean withstand the rain of opposition when they come together and cross the line of scrimmage?

Dolton is a strong black man, confident in what he wants in life and how to get it. The adjunct professor at Northeastern University has multiple degrees andhas travelled the world, learning from the people he observes. So why is it that blond hunk Dean Majors has his mind twisted, his cock hard, and his reactions all out of whack? Dolton knows he has to have the beautiful man, and will do anything to get the long-haired god in his bed and in his life.

Dean Majors is a construction worker by trade and the heart of Team Griffon. He is not closeted gay man, but he doesn’t advertise is orientation, either, something he is happy about when his old friend Robbie Keton joins the Griffons. Robbie’s negative attitude is something he has to distance himself from, especially when he realises he has a more than man-sized crush on the team’s uber-intelligent and exotic middle linebacker, Dolton Pride.

Together the two men are a potent fire, their lust burning hot. But can it withstand the bitter rain of opposition and threats that threaten their happiness when they cross the line of scrimmage?

Reader Advisory: This book contains mild bondage, light BDSM, football-related violence


Hump The Third…

Hump the Third…

A while ago, I was playing with Orcs. And I came up with this awesome word for Renaissance E books Sizzler Editions…

The Difference Between…
Chapter One

The flap to the tent ripped open surprisingly easy.
But then, Vizri didn’t expect much from a human.
The dim light in the tent did nothing to hamper his vision. Orc eyes were designed to be useful in the dark tunnels that spawned their ancestors as well as the bright sunlight in which the multitudes of humans dwelt.
It was a good thing his eyes adjusted so quickly because almost as soon as he entered, he had to duck to the right as a pale blur flew at him from out of nowhere.
He shifted his weight and gripped his ax but something, some odd instinct made him stay his hand.
Unlike the confusing humans, Orc’s always followed their instincts. So he gripped the hilt of the great weapon strapped to his back and he instead traced the blur with his eyes.
It was a human, a small one. At least it looked; he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring, and nodded. It was human, small…wounded.
He was deciding if he should just put it out of its misery when it turned and snarled at him.
He could not stop his brow-hair from rising as he stared at the pitiful creature. Although it never showed in his expression, this delighted him. This tiny small thing behaved in an appropriate alpha-type manner. It was refreshing.
The small thing looked underfed and wild as he glared at him, its small chest heaving as its eyes tracked rapidly around the room, looking for an escape route while keeping him firmly in view.
He tilted his head to the side and relaxed his stance as the small human snarled again.
There was a table between him and the small human, so he decided he had time to test a theory that had been raging along the lower courts of his chiefdom for years. Were humans intelligent beings, capable of instinctual thought or were they just evolution’s joke.
He moved forward and unclasped the human weapon, a sword, from his side. He had meant to bring it as a present to one of his wives who loved trinkets like that, but now it would do well to serve a purpose.
If the small human could pass his test he would not put it out of its misery. If it actually reacted in the correct instinctual manner, then he might take it home as a pet and spare its life. One of his thirty-seven wives might like an intelligent toy to fetch and carry.
The sword was laid on the table and he stepped back to watch the creature’s reaction. When it just stood there, glaring at him, eyes still darting around the tent, he reached into another pouch at his side and withdrew a small-jeweled dagger. He had taken it from the treasury of the human in charge and thought that it could be bent and pounded into something useful, like a bit of jewelry for one of his wives or for his consort. He moved forward and laid that on the table as well.
Still the small creature didn’t move, but its eyes were darting back and forth between him and the weapons.
Finally Vizri unwound a heavy steel bolo from around his waist, dropping that beside the dagger before he stepped back.
There, he had given the creature three options. He would wait and see if it was intelligent enough to realize that he had given it a choice.
As he waited, he examined the pitiful thing, noting the difference between human and Orc. It had none of the advantages that nature had given the Orc for survival, which led many to speculate that humans were Nature’s big joke.
It had thin skin, which he could see blood pumping through its veins. Its ears were rounded and placed on the side of its head, not sharply arched and placed on top so that they could easily pick up the sounds of enemies approaching or sneaking around. It had no claws for defense, no horns for intimidation, and worse of all, it had no protruding lower tusks. How could it properly mate if it could not gore its female into ecstasy?
Humans were a strange breed that had managed to grab a foothold in the Orc territory. They were annoying and curious, but not considered too dangerous by some. But according to Vizri’s philosophy, any creature that was smart enough to try and establish its own territory within the borders of a greater Chiefdom was worth keeping under control.
He dropped his internal musings when the creature finally made its move. As expected, it went for the largest most flashy of weapons on the table. It went for the sword.
Vizri sighed and reached for his ax prepared to deliver a swift death to the stupid creature when it flung the sword at him.
Instinctively, his eyes followed its path as he stepped out of its way, his right arm already behind his back on the hilt of his upturned ax, when he felt the blow.
He looked down and for the first time since he and his consort picked out their first wife, he smiled.
The small human had used the sword toss as a distraction. While he was occupied with stepping out of the path of the poorly flung weapon, the small creature had grabbed up the dagger and slammed it into his side.
It was what he got for underestimating a creature he had argued on several occasions not to underestimate.
Of course Orc skin was too tough for a mere human blade to penetrate…
He looked down at the small human and the sinister smile that spread across his normally stoic face made what was left of the angered red flush on the human’s cheeks fade away.
Curious, he decided as he watched the new color rushed in the human’s face nearly seconds after it paled.
Orc skin came in several shades of dark brown to black, rich and beautiful earth tones, nothing like the pale imitation of land that the human’s possessed. He had a feeling that you could tell what a human was thinking by the color its skin turned, a decided disadvantage in battle.
But this human, instead of running away in fright, tried to jab the dagger in harder, its snarl even more pronounced before he released the hold on his axe and gently swatted it into a pile of furs that he assumed passed for a bed.
Uncouth creatures, human were, he decided.
But this one, this one was different.
It glared at him from the pile of brown fur, its nearly white blue eyes showing hostility and a small amount of fear.
“Your name?” he finally asked, watching as those eyes widened and a strange look came over its face.
“N—Name?” he stuttered, obviously not expecting him to be able to speak in the human tongue.
He grunted his assent; the Orc language was more about tone and force when you spoke. The language was a complicated series of grunts, clicks, and growls that were more straightforward than the lilting sounds that humans used for words that danced around a topic. Frankly, several human languages were easy to understand and his warriors were required to speak several of them before they were deemed fit for battle. It would not do to have your enemy shouting orders to change formation or to pass along information in battle that you could not understand. They used the knowledge of human language to their advantage in several decisive battles and held their abilities closely to themselves as a major battle secret. Therefore very few humans knew Orcs could understand human.
“Name, small human,” he leaned forward, delighted when the snarl came back to the human’s mouth and all traces of fear fled his eyes.
Vizri blinked as the small human spoke. Maybe his knowledge of this particular human dialect was not complete. The small human was named for a cheap and easy being of no honor or breeding?
“Whore,” it snapped, rising to his feet, standing tall before the greater might of the Orc warrior. “That is what they call me.”
“Curious,” he muttered, gesturing for the creature to approach him.
It smelled young, he decided, looking it over. It was dressed in a few leather rags that tied around its waist and hid almost nothing. Its long blond hair was braided and beaded with several bells and colorful balls, like it was some exotic toy. On its wrists and ankles were jeweled cuffs, and of all things a leather collar around its neck, like it was some beast of burden.
Reaching out, Vizri gripped both its hands and spun it around, noting the bruises and what appeared to be lash marks on its back.
The small human began to scream and kick when he did that, biting at his hand and kicking to pull itself free.
Vizri liked its reaction. It lost its scant clothing and Vizri discovered that the creature was a male, a small male. Maybe it was not fully grown, but one could never tell about humans. Some of them were excessively short. But it…he was fighting even in the face of a greater challenger. And its instincts seemed to be sound, even if it lacked the biting tusks and the tearing nails that would injure him.
His plans solidified in his mind, he hefted the small human male in his arms and carried him out to where the remaining humans were herded.
There were the amused grunts of his warriors as he carried the spitting fighting creature towards its contemporaries, but they gathered around to see what was happening.
Vizri didn’t stop until he approached the most elaborated dressed and jeweled human, therefore the leader.
When he stood before the gaping creatures, he tossed Whore into the snow at their feet.
“Whore?” he asked, and suddenly the dark expressions on the human’s faces lighted considerable.
“Yes, whore!” the man exclaimed, stepping forward, pushing his own people aside as he made his pleas. “Whore. Please, take him, Take what you want. Just let me and my people live.”
“So, you would give the life of one small human in order to protect yourselves?”
The human looked shocked at his grasp of their language, but he quickly overcame that, smiling and nodding.
“Yes! Yes, take him! He’s a strange one, nothing but a whipping boy and a whore.”
“So, you would sacrifice this small one,” Vizri snorted, chewing on his bottom lip with his front teeth, a sure sign of irritation if one was familiar with Orc behavior. “You would easily give up the life of one of your own in order to save yourself?”
“He is useless!” The human snorted, sneering at the tiny human who had so impressed him. The small male glared back and spit on the ground at his feet for good measure. The leader looked as if he would like to deliver a kick to the small one, but continued to babble instead, “He is nothing.”
“Yet, he is human.” Vizri continued.
“But a worthless one!” the man insisted. “He is not strong or wise like my brave sons,” the man insisted. “He is not of my blood, he is a thing to do with what we will. And I will him to you if it will save me and mine.”
“But…is he not one of yours?”
“No! Take him! He is more than his weight in value if his life spares mine.”
“Begin the slaughter.”
The human gaped at him clearly not understanding the command. “But…but the whore…?”
“Did not offer me his body or your lives to spare himself some hurt.” He stepped forward, disgust clearly on the planes of his body as he snarled down at them. “Yet you, who are supposed to be leader here…”
“I am! I am the leader!” the man insisted. “It is my right to give him to you!”
“And thus it is not fit for your weak blood to exist on this land,” He stepped back, his hand on the human’s head. “You would sacrifice one of your own for the sake of your own weak offspring? You would give one of your own away to save yourself? You should have fought for him. You should have done anything you could, fought any battle, to save each and every one of your kind. Each life is precious, human. And as a leader, each one, any one is worth dying to protect. Yet you are offering one of your own to me? To save your own miserable lives? I cannot allow such weakness to perpetrate. “
Turning to his men, he ordered, “Slaughter him and his sons…and the rest of this— this human trash.” He gestured to the people who hid behind the leader. “Not one of them stood up for the one they named whore. All of their lives are forfeit. Slaughter them all and burn the rest. Nothing of them deserves to remain to mar my land in the future.”
There were screams of protest and one of his warriors reached out for the whore, but Vizri stayed his hand.
“No.” he shook his head as he watched the human leader fall to his knees as the blood of his people stained the snow red. “Not this one.”
He looked down at his little captive and snorted in amusement as he spit in the snow at the leader’s feet once again.
“This one shows honor, despite what these others of his kind have done.” Then he lifted his arm and showed his second the hole in his side where the dagger parted the material of his tunic. “If he had skill, he may have broken the skin…a little.”
His second looked impressed. “This one?” he grunted in Orc.
“Follows his instincts.”
The second in command stared at the small human and smiled as the small human snarled at him, ignoring his nudity and the cold of the snow. He bared his human teeth and growled.
“Impressive,” his second nodded and turned to the kneeling human.
Both Vizri and Whore watched as first the man’s sons and then the leader himself were beheaded, their bodies tossed into a blazing pile of debris that his warriors had already started.
The small human watched as well, no trace of weakness, disgust, or even righteousness, on his face. He just stared, observed, and learned.
As the stench of burning human flesh filled the air, Vizri turned to the small human and grunted. “Rotic,”
The human turned to look up at him, his eyebrows raised. There was still no fear in his face, no disgust at the bloodshed of the slaughter, and no shying away from death. He showed neither joy nor anguish at the leader’s demise.
“Rotic?” he asked, looking confused.
“Your name. It’s Rotic.”
“Rotic,” the small human exhaled and nodded, his eyes still curious as he looked at the death all around him and the one being who probably had shown him more courtesy that he had in his whole life.
“Rotic.” Vizri grunted. “My first…son.”
A look of joy filled the small human’s face before a blank look filled his face. But his eyes, his eyes were filled with untold joy.
That same blank look was on his face when Vizri wrapped him in a fur and settled him on the front of his six legged riding beast, though his odd pale eyes glittered with joy.
It was a successful campaign in Vizri’s mind. He had wiped out the largest infestation of weak humans in his lands, he gained wagons of furs and metals, and he gained his first son.
This day had not been too bad at all.

Hump Day Hump part the second…

Do you remember Dragon’s Star from Red Rose press? Sci-Fi paranormal fourson with dragons? I am almost finished the last installment… I know, took me long enough! LOL Here is the introduction…


Chapter 1

She trembled as she cowered in the corner, praying against all hope that the scabs chasing her would not see where she had taken to hiding.
Her back ached and her head pounded, but it was her overwhelming fear that overrode the physical discomforts and helped to make her so miserable. It was the fear of the knowing what was chasing her that terrified her so.
The scabs…
She was lucky to escape their first notice alive, and she knew it. What they would do to her if they caught her? The thought was horrifyingly unthinkable. So she huddled deeper into her corner, bending and contorting her feverish body so that it melded with the shadows, hiding all and offering her the illusion of protection. This physical camouflage was nothing new to her. She had perfected hiding in plain sight when she was but a youngling.
Out here in the desert lands, you either learned to conform or you were set out for the scabs.
Even hiding, the sound of the many scurrying feet heading in her direction caused her to panic. Her heart leapt in her chest, and her breathing rapidly increased to the point where she was in danger of hyperventilating and passing out on the rocky ground.
Remain calm, she thought to herself as she forced herself to calm down, to take shallow breaths, to use her mind and think. There has to be a way out of this.
But her mind went blank. She could do nothing but stare wide-eyed into the dark, listening with building terror as they drew closer and closer.
I don’t want to die, she thought as her trembling hands clenched into fists of impotent fury.
She was not ready to die! Death was so…so final! She was scared of that unknown more than anything else.
She forced her mind to stop spiraling down in that morbid cycle. It would drive her mad. If she had to die, she would face it honorably. But that was very cold comfort. Still, she would try to face it honorably, with a decided lack of whimpering and cowering. She knew she had to do this, but did she possess the strength?
As the clicking sounds of the inevitable drew closer, small whimpers began to unconsciously escape her mouth with each breath. Suddenly, she realized that she had no time to find her bravery. Suddenly, it was too late.
As she watched, paralyzed in sheer terror, a long muzzle and a pair of glowing yellow eyes peered into the shadows inches in front of her face.
Losing control, she opened her mouth and a scream of pure terror filled the air.
Through eyes so wide the whites dominated the pupils, she watched as the creature blinked twice then opened its mouth to reveal a gaping maw filled with razor sharp teeth.
She was going to die!
Fear created a metallic wash in the back of her throat and her heart felt as if it was sliding up her chest and out of her mouth!
She stared as that dark cavern of a mouth drew closer and closer and then…then…
Then it yawned.
The thing that was staring at her with those evil yellow eyes yawned as if it were bored!
Her shrieks stopped mid-echoing-scream as she realized that the thing was not tearing into her, rending her body to shreds.
She blinked, fascinated by what this thing was doing. Was it a scab? Was it here to feast on her still warm innards while she screamed in sour rending pain and begged for the release of death? Was it really yawning again?
“Are we through?” it hissed at her.
She stared wide-eyed as it peered closely at her, raising one eyebrow in her direction.
“Are-aren’t you going to…to eat me?” she stammered, her body still trembling with fear.
“Maybe…” it drawled. “But only if you ask nicely,” it replied and began to rise.
And rise, and rise, and rise!
“Gods!” she gasped as the thing towered over her.
It was as big as a house!
It snorted once, a plume of white smoke flowing from it’s left nostril as it again arched one eyebrow at her.
“Not quite,” it leered as it swiftly lowered its head to peer at her again.
With its long neck easily bent to her level, she could see its eye was easily as large as her whole head.
Gods, but she never even noticed it’s sheer size when she had first glanced at it.
Now she stood, watching this…this thing as it stepped back from the shadows and exposed itself in the dim light of the lowering suns.
It was white: blinding bright white that seemed to reflect the light around it.
It’s serpentine body looked scaled, yet soft as it again rose to its full height and shuddered. All at once, goosier wings exploded from its back and it lowered itself to its front…legs.
She blinked as she realized that it had been standing on its rear legs, balancing perfectly as it seemed to ready itself for something.
“Are you coming?” it asked politely, turning to look at her yet again.
“What…” she gasped as she slowly rose to her feet. What was this creature?
“You have wings?” it asked politely.
“Wings?” she stammered as the ache in her back increased, making her wince and clutch at her hips.
“I can smell you,” he hissed again, its brow wrinkling in…consternation? “You are almost ripe for the plucking.”
“Plucking!” she gasped. It was her total lack of interest in plucking that had gotten her cast out into the desert lands into the first place! She had never felt the desire to reproduce like the other women. Her refusal to let a man choose her for the ritual was what had gotten her into this nightmare to begin with.
Not that she was a stranger to trouble…after all, a little foundling child had to accept whatever lot life delivered to her. And usually she was quite good at obeying her adoptive father. But to mate with his first son? The barbarian? The bathless wonder? That was too much for anyone to ask of any female.
So she found herself pulled out of her sickbed and paraded before the council. Justice was swift and unexpected.
Because several men on the council had been refuted at her hands, they sought revenge the best way they could.
So now she had an aching back, no home to go to, the threat of scabs picking at her bones, and this…this thing wanted to pluck her!
“What are you?” she gasped as the pain in her back nearly bent her double.
“Have your people taught you nothing? Who is your family? Why must I need travel so far to find my mate?” it asked almost absently.
“Family? Travel? MATE!”
“Mate,” the thing sighed, as it seemed to look to the heavens for guidance. Shaking its head sadly, it said, “And the young ones used to be better trained than this. What is the world coming to?”
“Mate!” she shrieked again. “What are you?”
“Um…your mate.” he replied after a moment of thought.
“Your blood mate, woman! And I have searched long and hard for you! If I had not picked up on your distress, you would still be lost to me.”
“My distress?” Was this huge, walking, house-sized thing trying to be sarcastic? Was it playing with her? Was this all a big joke? “You are the one who is distressing me right now!”
“Well, I think that I am the better choice when it’s between me and those twelve legged creatures who are on your trail right now.”
“Twelve…” As her words eased off, she realized the she could hear the clicking and the shrieking sounds of the scabs. They were coming for her.
She stared at the creature, which although fearsome and quite large, had yet to show any desire to eat her, and then in the direction of that nerve wrecking sound. Which was the lesser of the two evils?
“Okay! Let’s go, mate!” she said as she looked around to see if the clicking things were within biting distance.
“So when the scavengers come calling, then you acknowledge me as your mate,” the thing huffed.
“Could we hurry this along?” she spoke swiftly as she stared over her shoulders, ignoring the sarcasm flowing from the…the Mate thing. “Argue later. Get me out of here now!”
With a sigh, the creature looked over her shoulders at the approaching menace and then back towards her.
“What is your name?”
“I don’t have one!” she cried, her voice rising in pitch, urgent with every word.
“No name?”
“They call me Girl!”
“Well, we have to do better than that.” it snorted.
“Please…” she cried. The scabs were getting closer!
“Okay! I’ll think about it as we travel to our new home.”
“Fine!” she shrieked, as the clicking grew louder. “Just get me out of here!”
“Gladly, Mate!” the creature snickered then lowered itself to the ground. “I think I will call you Shrill. Shrill… It seems to fit!”
But she said nothing as the first of the scabs rounded the corner; antenna waving, mandibles clicking, their many eyes shining like new death.
Too late, she thought. The hope she had felt growing in her heart swiftly dying.
And then the creature smiled.

It’s Time for your HUMP DAY HUMP!!!!

It’s time for you Hump Day Hump! Today, I will post a few stating with the unedited and upcoming NC 17 snippet (masturbation) How Not to Date a Changeling! WOOT!

Chapter 1

“What the fuck?”
Taylor Martin nearly jumped out of his skin as a wail that could only be described as banshee like permeated the walls of his new home. The glass of Riesling he just poured cascaded over his hand as he tried to control his hands shaking. “Alcohol abuse,” he murmured sadly staring at the puddle of the rich sweet wine at his feet.
But the siren screech of a wail sounded again and Taylor found himself turning to face the kitchen window. Was somebody murdering cats? Herding peacocks? What the fuck?
He grabbed a dishtowel to mop up the spill and winced as the odd sound echoed again. He rose to his feet and made his way to the kitchen window, watching as a mass of night birds took flight, sleeping away from the darkened house in question as another wail sounded out.
That particular dwelling was a three sorry monstrosity that during the day was pained a sedate dark green. The were no gardens to speak of, but the lush green lawn was well maintained lawn the circular drive before it solid and practical.
It was a worry that the house. Next to it, his new house, was going for such a small price. The neighborhood was not exclusive, but he was sure that there were a few antique cars in some driveways and there had been a Mercedes SUV in one driveway.
Taylor himself, was an ex solider by trade and now a photographer out of necessity, and was more than stunned to find such a forest deal on his own two-story Hudson Bay home. Now he was beginning to understand why the house went up for a short sale.
One more wail sounded, this one not as intense as the others and then total silence fell.
Shaking his head at his rotten luck, Taylor poured one more glass of wine and retreated to his master bedroom where a tub of hot steaming water waited. It was one of the few thighs he promised himself when he landed stateside and now that the wailing seemed to be over for the night, he was going to take advantage.
Once upstairs in his private domain, he placed his sweet wine on a bath table next to his tub and shimmied out of his sweatpants. As he undressed, he looked down at the scars criss crossing his body and wrinkled his nose at the sight. He was damn lucky he could walk, he reasoned staring down at the keloids and raised scars that covered his legs and hips. He reached down and tugged at the soft skin of his testicles, knowing that one of them was a prosthetic. Shaking off his growing depressed thoughts, he settled himself into his tub, sighing as the heat permeated his skin. He felt his muscles relax as he settled back against the tub. He closed his eyes and gripped his dick.
Erections for him were few and far between, some of it having to do with pain, some with the meds he was on, and some of it just pure depression.
But tonight, tonight was one of the good nights. With the wine warming his blood and the hot water seeping into his muscles, it was time for a little self-healing.
He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the tub, the hot water lapping at his skin sent tingles over his skin and a twisting in his stomach. His balls churned as blood filled his dick, his stroking hand helping it along.
He inhaled deeply, breathing in the steam and the scents of growing lust as he tightened his fist and ran his thumb over the plum colored head of his cock.
Taylor had a pretty cock. He knew it and several people commentated on his favorite body part during his career as a sexual being. It was thick, but not veiny and was a solid tan color from base to the start of his head. Other men he had seen had a round ring around their dicks marking were they had been cut as children, but his scar was so thin it was barely noticeable.
His cock curved gently upward, something the women in his bed seemed to enjoy greatly when he found their g spots and rode it like a cowboy. The gentle widening of his shaft convinced more then one woman to turn over and go ass up and give anal a try.
Taylor had a pretty dick and he was so happy to see it full, stiff, and radiating need that he could almost cry.
Instead he took a firmer grip and slowly stroked the shaft again, his thumb rubbing a clear bead of precum around the soft skin of its head.
He groaned, allowing himself the pleasure of making the noise, letting it tighten his muscles as the sound added to his need. Yeah, he was home along and mastering his domain. No one could say a damn thing about it, and if they had opinions, they had better keep them to themselves. Nothing was going to harsh his rush.
He pumped his fist a little faster biting his bottom lip as pleasure began to coil in his stomach. His knees began to shake and his ass tightened on his next stroke.
“So good,” he moaned clenching his teeth as a shaft of pure heat tightened his nipples and shot strait to his cock, making it throb harder. “Mmm,”
As he stroked harder, his hips began to thrust upwards, splashing and churning the water around him, but he paid it no heed. His balls were slowly drawing up and his toes were curling.
It was perfect and it was hot and it was so very wet. His fist was pounding now as his free hand went below the water to cup his balls, rolling them gently as he spread his thighs as far as he could within the confines of the tub.
Right now, his body was a sexual machine. With no scarring or pain to hinder him, he let his mind drift.
God, to sink into some dusky skinned beauty… to feel her legs wrap around his waist as her nails dug into his shoulders…
And her voice, it would be deep and dark, filled with lust as she gasped his name.
Yeah, he could picture his dark haired lover, her hips jerking up into each of his thrusts, her breasts bobbing wildly as he loomed over her, pounding her as hard as he could and have her begging for more.
“Umn,” he grunted as white lights began to explode behind his eyes and fire shot down his spine.
She would be screaming now, yelling as her tight pussy clenched around him, milking him hard, her nails digging in his ass…
His hands slipped off his balls and sank further back, caressing his ass, stroking the sensitive skin there, and sending his hips slamming upwards.
“God, yeah,” he hissed his eyes squeezing tightly as his balls slammed against the base of his dick and his dick swelled to its fullest.
Then he was shooting, spraying his load over the water and up onto his stomach, gasping as his body flooded him with hormones and made his body shake as it was attacked with pleasure.
He felt a shaft of pain in his left knee, but it all blended with the pleasure running over his body, making his blood sing and leaving him limp as a used dishrag.
“Oh yeah,” he moaned as his body shook in aftershocks, as the still hot water cradled him gently.
He loosed his grip on his dick, enjoying the lingering spams of his orgasm. His other hand left his ass to softly pet his stomach, playing with the sticky seed that the water had not yet washed away.
He would have to change the water… but in a moment. Right now, he was too relaxed and–
“Sweet baby Jesus!” The wail returned, louder than before it trailed off slowly and silence descended once more.