New Ebook: The Windshield Incident Pt. 2

It is now on Smashwords here. More shit happens to Grant, because he's the kind of guy to whom shit happens. Moreover, since the nature of Grant's weird relationship with the resident bad boy is sexual, shit that happens is fucking. Guaranteed.

FYI, all Smashwords prices are set according to word count. It tells you how hard I worked, and for every dollar Smashword receives I earn fifty cents. Someday I'll be able buy myself a cup of fancy coffee.

Yes, Sir pt. 1

I know an update is long overdue, but I have been swamped like Prince Humperdinck. Nothing in real life is letting up, so blogging is on the back burner. Strange Bedfellows wallows in the mire of edits, the Windshield Incident Pt. 2 needs to be formatted and the cover made, and in the meantime I wrote a nasty little short that I will post in pieces. Now you've been updated. Bye.

Caleb walked in when I was reading the newspaper. I heard him say goodbye to Archer, but I had reckoned they were both going out the front door. Otherwise I might have put on a pair of shorts and a shirt, rather than sit there on the couch with my dick half-hanging out of my boxers. Then again, since Caleb’s footsteps stopped a full minute before I peered over the paper at him, I might not have.

“Hey, Caleb.”

He seemed to remember himself then, lifting his gaze quickly and giving me a nervous smile. “Hey, Mr. Kelly. I was just putting my glass in the kitchen.”

“All right.” I crossed my leg and turned a page. Caleb knew where everything was. The kid had practically grown up in this house, though as a long-haul driver I didn’t see much of him. My wife, Brittany, said he was a good kid. Quiet, a good friend to our rowdy son.

Caleb hadn’t moved.

Without lowering the paper I asked, “Do you need something, Caleb?”

“Uh, yes sir. I mean, no, sir.”

I really looked at him then. He was probably close to nineteen now, with a typical teenager’s lean build. Average height, with light brown hair that he parted on the side, straight nose and slightly ruddy cheeks, Caleb was the fresh-faced boy scout type who probably kept fit by mowing old ladies’ lawns. He was cute because he managed to be free of acne at his age, and had big, soulful eyes that I was just noticing because they seemed fascinated by my crotch. And just think: until two minutes ago I would have described Caleb as boring.

Watching Him Back 4.4

The first part of chapter 4 is here and 4.3 is here.

“Hey, Mom,” I say casually as I’m unloading the dishwasher, “I think Crispin’s gonna come over after prom to hang out.”

Mom looks up from the recipe book she has out on the kitchen island. "Aaron, honey, I really think you should spend more time with your friends." She speaks slowly, like she’s trying to find the right words.

"Crispin is my friend, Mom."

"I know, sweetheart, but I haven't seen Carter or LeAndre or Jay around in a long time, and with some of the trouble you’ve had at school," she replies, "the mother in me can't help but be worried."

Read the rest at https://reamstories.com/acerbicscribbler

The Windshield Incident 2 Sneak Peek

If I had free moments they would be dedicated to Strange Bedfellows, which is this close to being finished. Free moments are naught to be found this month, so instead here's some more shit that happens to Grant. If you don't know who Grant is, click here.

Screw Ryder Vance. Never in my eighteen years had anyone ever messed with my head like that. My brain had that day at the park on loop, playing in high definition clarity during quiet moments. Ryder’s voice became a dubstep beat: “Get on your knees and give me a fucking blowjob.” “Have you ever been fucked?” “Come on my cock.” Once I found myself rapping it aloud on the bus. “Give me a, give me a, give give give give gimme a fuc-king blowjob.” Good god.

The Worst Days Ch. 2.4

More of this hot mess, because I'm definitely stalling. To read the part 2.3 click here, or start from the beginning. Again, thanks to Luz for sending me a copy of this lost tome.

Fen's mouth turned up a bit more. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought you'd done that before," he sighed. Had he been feline, he would have purred. 

I snorted. "I do not consider that a compliment."

"Mm, you should," he murmured. "I can't move."

"So now would be a good time to make a run for it?" I said sarcastically.

Fen opened a grey eye at me. "You want to run around this place with a stiff dick after what you saw today? Be my guest."

Read the rest at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/WalkerCFields

The Worst Days Ch. 2.3

At risk of biasing you against reading what I'm putting on this blog (for reading), let's just say that while you read I will be offering sacrifices to the gods of Grammar, Spelling, and Turns of Phrase, for I have sinned gravely. To read the part 2.2 click here, or start from the beginning. Again, thanks to Luz for sending me a copy of this lost tome.

By the time we reached the estate I was in real pain. Adrenaline blocks out the effects of most blows while it overtakes one's brain, but when it's gone it leaves the body in a world of hurt. Fen noticed I was slow getting out of the hoverlimo.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked me.

I grimaced. "I don't think anything's broken, and I'm pretty sure I was never hit in the kidneys, but that crowd sure didn't pull its punches. I blame you for all of this."

Read the rest at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/WalkerCFields

The Worst Days 2.2

Luz emailed me a complete copy of my Worst Days series. It was my first foray into erotica, so now I look back on some parts think, That absolutely sucked. Ergo I'm rewriting it. In the meantime, here's more of the original. The first chapter is here and the 2.1 is here.

My scalp prickled, but I didn't look at him. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Lomagnians aren't the only ones who follow space hockey," he murmured, his fingers stroking the inside of my arm. "I saw the news when you disappeared, and I stalked the auctions until I found where you were being sold." His fingers tightened and dug into the space between muscles. "I don't know how White got to you before I did. I didn't even know he was into boys."

I shrugged and concentrated on reading the menu of the food stand. I've dealt with obsessed fans before, there was even a teenage girl who stole my dirty underclothes from the locker room and sent them back to me after masturbating with them (which was just plain grungy), but it's a little bit different when the fan wants to turn you into a sex slave. Creepy was only the tip of the adjective iceberg.

Read the rest at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/WalkerCFields