Please Teach My Husband: The Series

Stop the presses.

Getting old stuff out of my brain worked. I have had…wait for it…an original idea. With several of my stories getting longer and more complicated, I wanted to be able to write something punchy, quick, and exploratory without any big feelings to navigate. Hookup culture with a twist.

And so:

On a planet (to be named), an Earthling researcher has been tasked with collecting anecdotes from a holy man. This man's entire role is to satisfy and train the married men of his town when their wives are unavailable or uninterested. The society is egalitarian and suspicious of offworlders with their backwards values. We see this society through the researcher's eyes as he records the holy man's recollection of his visitors/supplicants, focusing on the encounters that would involve play/light kink (in Earth terms).

Already this concept has challenged me. A lot of kink involves some amount of perceived transgression or power dynamics. What changes if a society is completely accepting of sex between all consenting adults? What justification would there be to, I don't know, call someone a cumpig if it isn't stigmatized? When I lived in Japan, common dirty talk was that bottoming will feminize you. "No, don't make me cum with your cock; you're turning me into a girl!" or "I'm going to turn your asshole into a pussy!" Shit like that. If you've ever read stories featuring "gooning," or "mindbreak," you've definitely seen this in Western culture. Would humiliation play remain in an egalitarian society that finds no shame in men having sex? Such are the fun, stupid questions I ask myself while I type.

Thus far, I've outlined:

1. Please Teach My Husband Foreplay (toys)
2. Please Tie My Husband Up (bondage)
3. Please Help My Husband Last Longer (edging)
4. Please Punish My Husband (spanking, light exhibitionism)
5. Please Teach My Husband To Top (ooh, is the researcher going to have to step in?)

With a couple other entries floating around. I like the idea of the researcher struggling to stay professional while he's being told a bunch of sexy stories. Formatting could be a bitch, though. I'm trying to figure out how to let our entry character interject when he needs more details, or doesn't understand a term. 

In conclusion, I'm excited to have something new to think about, and could use suggestions on what other light kink I could include in this series.

Sandalwood Ch. 5

 I did, watching closely as Gary positioned himself above me with incredible balance. He used both hands to pull his plump ass cheeks apart, and lowered himself towards my straining cock.

His sphincter brushed the head, then he clenched so that the tight ring kissed my glans and sent a shock through my pelvis.

"Fuck, Gary."

"Are you sure you're ready?" he asked cheekily.

"You're fucking cruel."

Read the rest at https://books2read.com/u/3L7K50

Sandalwood Ch. 4

This needs a heavy dose of editing before it goes anywhere, but I did at least finish that one other story I mentioned working on before the new year. Use the tags to find previous chapters (from over a decade ago. Shut up about it.) There will be one more chapter before it's totally finished.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 16

 This is it. We did it. This is the end of where we follow Jay and Dillon (at least until I figure out if I want to follow through on some vague ideas of a high school reunion for him, Aaron, and Crispin. Don't encourage me). This feels a little disjointed to my eyes, but it's also a literal first draft, so…if it sucks shit then let me know, I guess. Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 15

 He pulls back a little. "You can't stay the whole night," Dillon protests. It's not even twelve o’clock.

"Gimme an hour," I insist. "I’ll have you in bed by two." I’ll fucking have him in bed in ten.

Dillon looks unsure, so I put both hands on his face and smush. "Or just tell me what big-ass secret you've been keeping."

He steps back and pulled his phone from his pocket, texting quickly. I’m already starting to breathe a little heavy. Like, this wasn’t the plan, not at all, but fuck me if I don’t take this opportunity, right? If Dillon’s willing…Holy shit. Are we seriously going to fuck again? Like for real? Holy fucking shit. I’m so excited.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 12

It’s almost the end of the month when I give in and find fucking Crispin Viera in the student union.

“I need to ask you something real quick.”

He folds his arms, cocks his hip out all queeny. “I’m not going with you to a second location.”

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 9

Now that the first part is on Literotica I've found all the typos…my truth is that I 'll never, ever fix them because I would have to resubmit the entire story. You can't just edit a sentence or two on that website. So, I correct them in my original document and nowhere else. Maybe I'm the only one who thinks that's kind of funny? So the process is edit, publish here, edit, publish to a site, and then edit and…think about an ebook but probably do nothing.

Side note: I have neither the time nor the interest to figure out why sometimes these posts have different fonts. G'bless for sticking with me, you three.

If you've really enjoyed Concussion Jay, here's one last installment before his recovery. His should-have-been-short story is so, so close to being all the way out of my head and someone else's problem, to the point that I'll be posting here more frequently. This was hard to write, because I kept having to go back and replace my go-to synonyms with more simple, repetitive vocabulary. No metaphors; this dumb dumb doesn't talk like that! Stop making him so self-aware; he isn't there yet! Anyway, here's the sexy bit.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 8

"How are you feeling?" Dillon asks once we're strapped in his car. It's a Jeep. His tall car was a Jeep the whole time. I never would have pictured him in a Jeep. Is Dillon more outdoorsy than his style would have him appear? Jesus.

"Better," I answer honestly. "I mean, I still feel loopy, but better. My head hurts."

"Good," he says.

I watch him drive in silence. This feels like we're back to normal. Normal was short for our weird little buddy-ship, but I enjoyed it while it was there. I am glad that Dillon didn't give up on me. It sucks that I had to get a concussion to figure that out, but maybe, "I got mad because I thought you had just been messing with me this whole time, like your deal was turning straight guys and laughing about it." The words just come out. This is worse than when we were drunk and he called me a dumb shit, because we were at least on the same level of functionality or whatever. Now I can't think straight, and Dillon's all level-headed and chill.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 7

 I got a harebrained idea that I'm going to get two stories finished and out into the world before the end of the year. This one is flowing a little more naturally at the moment (and your feedback helps a lot, Cameron). Retrospectively, it's funny that I thought it would be a quick, flashy installment. The current draft is pushing 24,000 words.

There will be some continuity errors if you hold the Watching Him Back epilogue I posted as canon, but…we sally forth knowing that nobody will care all that much.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask Professor Valero, and he actually chuckles. “I’m passing? For real?”

He leans back against his desk. “Not only that, but I just finished grading the last test. You earned yourself a B.”

I must be grinning like an idiot. “Seriously?”

“Indeed.”

This is the first time I’ve ever left a meeting with a teacher feeling good about myself. I never had to worry about it before because I’m a fucking great cornerback when my ACL isn’t fucked. Okay, also it was easier to cheat in high school. Here, people get really mad if you fuck off during a group project. But, like, it’s feels fucking amazing to have tried and gotten a real result. I got a B on a Stat test! I gotta celebrate.

Who can I tell first?

Jay's Not Gay You Guys 5

I manage to not bring it up when Dillon finally sets up a tutoring session. Well, kind of. He said I wasn’t his bro, which feels bad. The same chatbot that suggested I apologize with specifics also said I should ask Dillon follow up questions about shit he’s already brought up. It steered me right the last time, so after a full hour of being a loyal study dog I try out one of the friendship-building tactics.

“You and Viera are still friends, huh? Is that weird in the, you know, queer community here?”

Dillon looks at me like I grew a second head. “Cris is the only other one who didn’t know. And was also getting cheated on.”

“Yeah, you said. No, I just mean, like…who do you, like, date? If you’re mad at everyone.” I’m showing compassion and an interest in his life. Good job, me.

Jay's Not Gay You Guys 4

I did a word count check on this Watching Him Back epilogue, and it's long. Long in a way that makes me question whether it's worth it. I get to write about another dumbass, though, so at least I'm having fun. Right guys? Right?

Right?

Here's more of this:

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 3

Part one got flagged for some reason, and I haven't figured out how to contest it. Let me know if I need to repost it or something. Ya'll, I really thought I was cooking back when I started this shit. Now I'm not so sure; maybe it's because I'm farther away from my own college experience than when I wrote the bulk of this epilogue. Whatever. Here's some more of it, and hopefully it resembles a story with plot and characters.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 2

"Are you going the foam party on Friday?" I ask casually in lab.

Dillon shakes his head, and then sighs. "Yeah, actually." I knew this, but it makes it way easier knowing that he doesn't want to go. We work in silence for a little bit, until he does what I want and asks, "You?"

"Naw, man," I say. "My friend Carter's pledging Sig Ep, and they're all having a Fortnite tournament. It’s supposed to be a fundraiser."

Dillon seems to perk up at that, but he doesn't say anything.

"You wanna come?" I can feel him analyzing me, but my face is all up in the microscope. "Okay, I found the water flea."

Dillon passes me a dropper of alcohol and replies, "I could make it."

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 1

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Personal Assistant.4

Living up to the title of this blog, I tell you what. This thing almost has a trajectory.

My boss still touched me too much. We were working a lot—I had notes and files and emails to prove that my presence wasn’t completely unnecessary—but he’d massage my shoulders or the back of my neck while he looked over my notes. Even at dinner, when his wife and two children were there, Mr. Baker would touch my foot with his or rest his hand on my thigh under the table. His hand went to the small of my back whenever he passed behind me in the kitchen.

It wasn't as though we went entirely unnoticed. "Ken just follows you around everywhere," I overheard Regina tell Mr. Baker when they were relaxing in the living room. She sounded amused. "He's like a puppy."

Personal Assistant.3

 Still not exactly sure where this is going, but here's more one it.

"We're heading to the lake next weekend," Stuart told me not long after, "my family and I. I want you to come along."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," I replied honestly, giving a quick smile to my coworkers passing the open door.

He clapped me on the shoulder, but as usual let it rest a little too long. “It’ll be a working trip,” he offered. “You’ll get time and a half.”

I marked myself as out of office. After all, what could he do with four children and a wife running amok?

***

Like a family in a black-and-white film, the Baker clan waited for us on the steps of the lake house. Some of the clan, I corrected myself. The children I had met at the chili cookoff weren’t there.

Stuart kissed his wife before turning to me.

"You've met Regina," he said, squeezing her waist, "and this is my oldest boy, Graham. Graham is going to be a junior this year."

Will.5

I'm in the part of this story where I don't really know what a satisfying ending would be. Will's perspective, which in my head cannon is after the events of Declan's story, is already published in "Olive Juice," so we know where they end up. I'm open to suggestions.

If you haven't read the previous parts…that's what the tags are for, baby.

“No offense, but I’m going to be sick.”

My parents were both about to scold me for being snarky when Cassie walked in, probably from show choir or something. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

Mom, Dad, and I almost spoke simultaneously. “Nothing.”

Cassie gave us a funny look, and then got a super annoying smirk. “Is this about Declan’s crush on Will?”

Ha ha! With that I escaped upstairs so that my sister could get the It’s-Unkind-And-Unsafe-To-Out-Someone speech. They even made her come tell me sorry, which was amazing. Cassie was so frickin mad.

One good thing about prom coming up was that no one was looking at me or Will. Surviving the week and prom was the only conversation we had. I tried to invite Will to lunch off-campus, but a group of our friends caught up to us on the way.

Will.4

 "I mean, of course you don't have to," I began, but Will saved me the embarrassment of giving him an out by coming back to me.

He sat next to me and clasped his hands. "What do you want me to do?"

Was it not obvious? I wanted a fricking handjob. But Will, I was realizing, was delicate. Not like me. I needed to be as gentle with him as he’d been with me. "Just touch me," I replied, placing my hand on the back of his head. Will responded softly when I kissed him. He let me draw him to me again, and as I sat back Will's leg slipped over mine. It was like it belonged there. Like his little noises, like his cum drying sticky on my stomach, like his hand on my neck.

Mob Men is Live

Mob Men is up. It's showing the limits of Literotica's formatting, because I really with there was a better way to show that we're in one of Mario's reveries than

***

That's it. Center aligned asterisks and paste tense. Very unsatisfactory. 

All that being said, I realized as I was selecting chapter breaks that it would have made more sense to publish as one long piece rather than broken into several little chapters. I was too impatient; proud of myself for being able to move one more file into the Published folder. There were enough gaps between chapters of Stay Away From Her/Power Plays to let reader feedback influence some of the story in a way that still felt fun. Mob Men, by contrast, would likely benefit from reading in one burst. By the time anyone* reads this update, I'll probably have submitted the 5th chapter for publication.

Currently I'm writing an epilogue from Alex's perspective, a lil' sumthin' sumthin' to tie things up with a bow. Is it what people want? I won't find out because I'm releasing chapters too fast for anyone to form, an opinion. If I finish and publish that 6th chapter this week then you'll know I was procrastinating getting ready for a long work trip.

*No one. I yammer and yap into the void.

The Mob Kids Ride Again

In the grand scheme of Getting These Stories Fuckin' Published, I settled on the one that felt the most complete. It just so happens to be something I never published on this blog (which I realized today). Alex and Mario are sons of rival gangs: Alex is the baby of his Russian mob family, Mario the expected heir to an Italian "family." Mario is our POV character, and we follow him through a meetup with Alex as Mario reminisces about their relationship.

Initially, Sons of the Underbelly was a dumb take on yet another conversation with new acquaintances. I had only an outsider's perspective on a couple of specific cultures, and a reluctance to use the same language (mostly racial slurs) that seemed so common amongst these guys, and I still haven't seen a single episode of The Sopranos. What I did have was a story structure. So like me mashing my sister's Barbies together to make them kiss (she used to get so mad at me), that one conversation and the structure slammed together. 

I'm renaming the series. For one, Sons of the Underbelly is overwrought. For two, I'm noticing that a lot of my titles start with an S or a W, and I want to switch it up. I debated the following:

• Bravta 
• Bravta Boy
• Mafia Boys
• Mafioson (a terrible portmanteau)
• Mob Men (a terrible play on Mad Men)

The terrible wordplay was the winner! It gives nothing to potential readers. It also doesn't really fulfill its promise, because we're only following Mario when he's away from mob business. At least, right until he deliberately makes shit hit the fan.

What it does do, is be a unique and searchable title. Is it strange to be lowering my standards in order to get shit done? Or is it admirable that I'm soundly rejecting the perfectionism that kept all these stories trapped in my brain for years?

Please pretend it's the second thing while I clean up the rough edges for publication.