tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18250650960233939032024-03-13T01:10:02.465-07:00Incomplete Original odds and ends of erotic gay fiction.
Updated some Wednesdays and Saturdays.Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-34434690622860243642022-05-25T02:25:00.001-07:002022-05-25T02:25:00.194-07:00Power Plays Pt. 3.1 "Just let him take you while your car's in the shop."I can barely hear her over the rush of water coming out of the shower. "Shouldn't you be going with me?""I've already seen it," Chrisette says dismissively. "Just look at the main ranch house, and then it's only, like, one minute east to see that barn that the owners said we could rent for half.""Why not just do that?""Because it's kind Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-58321244192398681192022-05-21T13:04:00.002-07:002022-07-30T00:00:18.762-07:00More Bad Cover ArtIt's ya boi. I got a new app, so instead of finishing the stories I've been kicking around for years I've been playing with ebook covers. Have I become a better writer since I was last active on this blog? Unlikely. Have I gotten better at graphic design? Worse, if anything!Terrible!Very bad!HAHAHAHAHAAnyway, these will all be showing up on Smashwords at some point. You're Lucky I'm Drunk is due Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-8893484657311660082022-05-18T20:19:00.001-07:002022-05-18T20:19:00.185-07:00Smug Little BastardIf you didn't grow up with country relatives, this grammar might not make a lick of sense. Bless your heart.“You like me, don’t you.”I looked over at the man standing in the kitchen doorway, his arms folded and his feet apart.“What?”He tilted his head. “You like me; I can tell,” he said.I was dumbstruck for a moment while all the blood in my body rushed to my face. “J.D., where the hell’s Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-88049172694493929782022-05-13T23:28:00.004-07:002022-05-14T22:42:47.845-07:00The Worst Days 3.6I can't look at this anymore without taking a red pen to it. I'm posting the version that a kind fan sent to me, but know that when this finally shows up in ebook form (in 2027? I've set a precedent) it will be less…cringey.I woke up slowly, comfortable in a warm tangle of flesh and linens. I didn't fully awaken until I realized that I was wrapped around my large bedmate instead of the other way Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-25692985463705399352022-05-10T22:11:00.006-07:002022-05-11T19:40:35.224-07:00Watching Him Back 4.6I remembered my login.The couch is just large enough that I can straddle my boyfriend’s lap. Crispin’s hands wander over my skin as I kiss his mouth, pull me closer when I grind against him. Our skin burns where it touches. I’m on fire, I’m so hard it hurts. Crispin’s cock curves up against the cleft of my ass. It’s still scary, but that portion of my brain shouting, This will really hurt! gets Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-39190474854348385692017-11-08T00:55:00.000-08:002017-11-08T00:55:07.159-08:00The Worst Days 3.5
To read part 3.4 click here, or start from the beginning. Again, thanks to Luz for sending me a copy of this lost tome.
"Here I am," I said casually. Yikes! I thought.
Samarra hoisted herself up on the countertop. "Did you think about what I told you?" she asked.
I opted for honesty. "I did, and frankly I think it's full of holes."
She was clearly taken aback, and an ugly scowl Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-55784175799618642522017-11-05T23:19:00.004-08:002022-05-11T19:46:13.289-07:00You're Lucky I'm Drunk Pt. 1
These things always end up being love stories of a sort. I am, I guess, a closet romantic.
Cooper tripped into my apartment as soon as I opened the door. I couldn't stop laughing long enough to work the key out of the lock, so he had to crawl back and help me.
"I am so shitfaced," I confessed, feeling the world turn a little.
"Me too," Cooper sang, stumbling backward to let me shut the Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-72718969813226261132016-02-04T07:04:00.001-08:002016-02-04T07:04:55.353-08:00The Worst Days 3.4
To read part 3.3 click here, or start from the beginning. Again, thanks to Luz for sending me a copy of this lost tome.
Not a minute later Fen appeared at the door. "Guests are arriving now," he informed me. He looked tense, even a little worried, and I had a sudden inexplicable urge to give him a reassuring hug. I resisted that urge, since that only complicated my indecision on Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-22118754162597557122015-10-24T23:08:00.000-07:002015-10-24T23:08:17.727-07:00Power Plays Pt. 2
Everyone in this story is still the worst. Part 1 is here.
"I told Sasha that we'd go with her and Todd to the movie."
"What?" I look up from my computer. "It's Guys' Night. We're going to Sam's." This wouldn't have been news to Chrisette—the guys and I have been meeting up since we were fresh out of college. I've joined them less since Chrisette and I have been dating, but Wednesdays have Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-75777952411142686752015-04-25T22:56:00.000-07:002015-04-26T09:33:19.645-07:00Windshield Incident Pt. 4 PublishedIt's here on Smashwords.
The part of the year when work swallows me is coming to a close, so I'm looking forward to finishing some of the abundant unfinished stories. The "Power Plays" story has a bunch more to it—I think I just like writing about idiots—and "Will" and "Olive Juice" are almost complete. Then it will be time, yea verily and forsooth, to dust off some of the brain breakers. When Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-21728517378254239032015-02-25T06:00:00.000-08:002015-04-25T22:44:46.477-07:00Will 2
The explanation for this section is here. There's some clunkiness ahead that need to be addressed…unless you can't tell where it is.
As much as I wanted to pretend like things are all cool, the next day school was just weird. I felt like everyone just knew, somehow, that Will had kissed me yesterday. He could have texted me sorry, but he didn't, and so even though I knew I shouldn't think this Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-46985820054358098402015-02-22T22:45:00.000-08:002015-02-22T22:51:58.590-08:00Excerpt from "Couldn't"After "Shouldn't" (Friday) and "Wouldn't" (Saturday) comes the Sunday wrap-up. My goal is to keep Richard's voice consistent even as he gets more comfortable with having Cody around.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you love me?” Cody asks.
Ah, yes. He’s a teenager. I prop myself up on my elbow. “In what sense?”
He glances off to the side. “Like…you know.”
Making my voice as gentle Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-45218690402879413242014-10-11T04:00:00.000-07:002014-10-23T21:17:13.592-07:00The Windshield Incident Pt. 4 Sneak Peek
One of my favorite elements of The Windshield Incident has been Grant's everyman-ness. He doesn't automatically get jokes, or pick up on body language, or figure out the motivations of others. He's not terribly introspective or intelligent, as opposed to characters like Tucker Jones (who spends most of his day inside his own head) or even Aaron of Watching Him Back. My challenge for this Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-68614952806769996362014-10-08T21:32:00.001-07:002014-10-08T21:34:29.127-07:00The Very First Part of the Short Story Currently Known as Prom Night
It has been over a decade since I spent any time around high school girls, so I have no idea if this is an accurate representation of how they think or act. Whatever.
“Oh my god, seriously?” Kenzie squeals, piercing the refectory buzz. When you attend a fancy schmancy private school, you don’t call it a cafeteria. Flipping her smooth brown hair over her shoulder Kenzie leans in close. “He Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-76076319697391594122014-10-03T15:50:00.001-07:002014-10-03T21:59:08.219-07:00WillThe first story I started in this universe currently holds the title of "Prom Night," which is about a girl who tries to help her neighbor come out of the closet. The small city, private school setting provided the teacher for "Shouldn't." A tertiary character mentioned in "Prom Night" became one of the main characters in a short extra called "Olive Juice." Then I thought, Wouldn't it be nice to Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-6962254698966504612014-09-20T06:00:00.002-07:002022-05-11T19:48:40.039-07:00On My Mind GrapesSome of the most common comments* on my stories include the phrase "please continue!" I'm not intending to brag or complain; most of what I post on this blog or Literotica are parts of a whole. There's nothing wrong with people picking up on that. It's kind of a "I always thought of Dumbledore as gay," situation; there's always more backstory and epilogue than actually appears on the page. Or Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-72342141029792273492014-09-17T09:28:00.000-07:002014-09-19T05:26:06.258-07:00The Worst Days 3.3
To read part 3.2 click here, or start from the beginning. Again, thanks to Luz for sending me a copy of this lost tome.
My heart immediately sped up. Sure, Lomagnia was landlocked on Nitkistan's north side, and Calterra was a dinky set of islands on the east, but I'd have greater chances of making it back to Lomagnia that way than trying to wait out the war.
"But how would I get outAcerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-81117331289616765212014-09-10T13:27:00.000-07:002014-10-08T21:58:51.902-07:00Shouldn't
If I like this well enough to turn into an ebook it'll get a little more fleshed out and polished. Voici quand même.
"This is harassment," I said fiercely.
He grinned. "Please report me, then."
"It's not funny; it's the kind of behavior that can get you in real trouble."
He leaned in closely, too close, and mock whispered, "Yes, I'm very dangerous."
My fingers curled around my Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-86747896395000770482014-06-28T00:00:00.000-07:002014-06-28T00:00:08.958-07:00Windshield Incident 3 eBook AvailableOn the anniversary of Part 2, the 3rd installment of The Windshield Incident is now published and available for download. It's here on Smashwords, and will eventually show up on Apple, Kindle, Nook, and other partnered eBook retail sites. It's like buying me a quarter cup of coffee to keep me alert and typing.
Fun fact: The background colors correspond to Grant's mental and emotional Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-48174273092089116522014-06-26T15:02:00.000-07:002014-06-26T15:11:18.933-07:00Power Plays
This story is fucking weird, and in my head the aftermath is drawn out and dark. I'm not sorry.
"Excuse me?" Chrisette's slender eyes widen in disbelief. "Did I just hear you forbid me from seeing him?"
Should I have just kept my mouth shut? "I'm just saying maybe don't hang out one-on-one."
"Are you kidding me?!"
In a way this is a variation on a theme. I think she's allowing Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-37302202256029388222014-02-26T11:01:00.000-08:002014-03-23T14:41:37.736-07:00Watching Him Back 4.5
The first part of chapter 4 is here and 4.4 is here.
Crispin and I don’t get to hang out much in the week before prom. There’s some brief fondling in the art classrooms after school, but all his girlfriends want him to shop with them and plan for fucking after parties, and I’m busy trying to figure out how I’m going to take a cock up my ass for the first time in my life.
I wonder Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-62606551007844535882014-02-19T09:09:00.001-08:002014-02-19T10:40:24.467-08:00The Windshield Incident Pt. 3 Sneak Peek
This is the closest thing to being finished, so here's a little more of the weird shit that keeps happening to Grant. It needs some work; this why I blog rough drafts.
I was stocking the cooler in the Vance Autobody waiting room when out of nowhere a hand reached in front of me. “Holy crap!” The can of soda in my hands dropped, clattering on the floor.
Ryder Vance popped the tab on the cola Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-16391852759667569452013-12-26T22:45:00.001-08:002014-09-10T14:56:13.180-07:00RainSomething old I found where I least expected it. Quentin is really weird, and he really likes stormy weather.
Rain always makes me horny.
I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the boudoir atmosphere of a darkened daytime sky. Maybe it’s the sensual patter of the droplets on my skin, or the percussion on the roof and windows. Maybe there’s some deep-rooted psychological reason, but whatever it may be, Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-10623357771449034732013-12-07T19:13:00.000-08:002014-09-12T09:22:01.848-07:00The Worst Days 3.2
I got distracted by my job, a dog, and a little Watching Him Back spinoff. To read part 3.1 click here, or start from the beginning. Again, thanks to Luz for sending me a copy of this lost tome.
I woke the next morning to hear Mrs. Cupps pounding on my door. "Wake up, Tamlin, honey," she called. "The seamstress will be here in half an hour!""Ugh," I moaned to no one. The fancy duds were on Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825065096023393903.post-66497809869326774962013-09-12T21:09:00.002-07:002013-09-12T21:10:50.805-07:00The Worst Days Ch. 3.1Some more train wreck for you patient souls. To read the part 2.4 click here, or start from the beginning. Again, thanks to Luz for sending me a copy of this lost tome.
When I roused myself from my nap it was dusk and my stomach was growling. I hopped in the shower to loosen my sore muscles and sluice off the dried sweat. After pulling on a shirt and jeans I wandered downstairs to hear Fen Acerbic Scribblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17770748199401693907noreply@blogger.com4