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.

Will.3

 Read part 2 here.

Will hadn't quite caught up to me yet. Maybe he thought I was going to try and smother him with a couch pillow. He wiped his eyes with one hand, still laughing a little bit, and looked up at me.

I kissed him.

All these feelings came rushing through me too fast to distinguish one from another, and they formed a tight pulsing ball in the center of my chest. Together they sang at me, "What are you doing?"

The kiss was brief, maybe only a second or two longer than that first one. Will giggled when our lips separated. I couldn't watch him smile and not smile back. How could anyone, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and that one dimple appeared, just on the right cheek?

“Was that okay?” I asked quietly. “Can I do it again?”

Watching Him Back 4.6

I 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 smaller and more garbled with every taste of Crispin’s tongue.

With lips still pressed to mine Crispin fumbles for the lube. “You ready?”

“I’m still ready,” I respond, lying less this time.

"Then take off your underwear."

"You take it off," I respond. It's kind of fun to be a brat.

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

Windshield Incident Pt. 4 Published

It'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 Andy's neighbor meets his parents…I managed to make it super boring the first couple of tries. But, godammit, that's got to get done because I promised someone a free copy once upon a time.

In the meantime, enjoy the end of Grant and Ryder's tale. Feel free to leave comments here; I miiiiiiiiiight have been drunk while I was proofreading it. Allegedly.

Will 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 way a small part of me doubted that he was sorry at all. Maybe he was gay and just felt like he couldn't tell anyone. Or maybe it had been so long since hed gotten some that everything just kind of spilled out when I stepped forward to close the door after him. There was a spiky cloud over my head. What if Cassie told in spite of her promise? It would get around so fast. I'd never been bullied, but I could imagine that it would suck. Or maybe the gay kids here didn't have to deal with that since no one really cared. Maybe I should corner one of them and ask, just in case.

Will didn't look at me the whole day. He laughed when I made a joke and he talked to Josh plenty, but not even once did his black cartoon eyes lift to meet mine. It made me feel super guilty for some reason, like me freaking out at home had somehow passed through the ether to reach Will, and he knew and felt even worse than I did and was punishing himself for kissing me. It's not like we had been in a fight. I knew how to come back from those, but how could we possibly get past the goodbye peck at my door yesterday? So, I fell back on old habits and invited Will over after school.

Excerpt 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 as possible, I reply, “Cody, just because our bodies fit each other doesn’t mean our minds or our hearts do. Of course I care about you, and I want you to be happy, but…”

“You don’t love me,” Cody finishes sourly.

How do I put this so that this man-boy can understand? “You’re looking in the wrong place,” I say. “If your parents are hurting your feelings, you can’t use sex to fix that. When this happens again, which is likely given your history of bullheadedness, are you going to start fixating on another authority figure? Sex doesn’t ‘fix’ anything. It’s our bodies’ expression of a chemical reaction that tells our reproductive systems—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cody interrupts. “Just…I know you could tell I liked you.”

I bonk him on the head. “Yeah, you drew pictures of us fucking on your homework. That’s not subtle.”

He smiles reluctantly. “Before that. I thought you could tell.”

I have to choose my words very carefully. “It’s always easier not to wonder.”

That must have been the right answer—who knows how Cody interprets it—because his gaze lifts to meet mine. “I didn’t know if you’d let me in,” he confesses.

Rolling my eyes, I retort, “I couldn’t leave you out in that weather, no matter how much you harrassed me.”

Cody grins and rolls to match my posture. “You knew what would happen, though,” he says slyly.

Some might argue that I did. How, though, would I have ever reckoned that I would be watching the clock with a heavy heart? “Don’t assume that human kindness is an invitation for anal sex, moron,” I snap, and make as though to leave the warm confines of my sheets. Cody reaches for my waist; I’m not surprised when he draws me to fit inside the curve of his body.

I remind him, “No more. As it is I’ll be sore for days.”

He pulls my chin toward him for a kiss. “You can teach me instead,” he offers as though it’s a stellar bargain. “Expand my horizons, Mr. Hale.”

The 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 latest installment was to let Grant grow up a little without losing the basic elements of who he is: friendly yet socially awkward, a long-term planner, easily caught off guard, and the type of guy to blend into the background.

Sarah and I were at a coffee shop in Springfield when I saw him. “Oh my god,” I said before I could stop myself.

Sarah turned to follow my line of sight. “What? What?”

Clearing my head with a shake, I tried to shrug it off. “No, I’m just surprised. The junkyard dog of my high school is in line.”

She laughed, showing off her pretty white teeth. “Which one is he?”

“Guess.”

His hair was shorter now, more clean cut, but he had the kind of scruff that was either a bitch to maintain or he literally hadn’t shaved in two days. A pair of aviator sunglasses hung from the neck of his shirt, pulling it down just enough to show a smattering of fur on his chest. The leather jacket wasn’t the exact one he had worn in high school, but it probably smelled the same.

“The big guy with the Tigers shirt,” Sarah suggested. I glanced at the linebacker-gone-to-seed type she indicated.

“Nope. Don’t think bully, think anathema.”

She nodded her head at the front of the line. “Ordering now, neck tattoos, looks like he'd surprise you with a golden shower.”

That earned a chuckle. “Okay, the kind of anathema who still gets laid a whole, whole lot. Like an unreal amount. Boatloads.”

“Oh! Then him.” Sarah subtly pointed to Ryder Vance.

The 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 asked you?”

I give her a look. “Please. You know it doesn’t mean anything. We’re practically siblings.”

“But it’s senior effing prom,” she counters emphatically. “Josh could go with anyone, and he picked you.”

I know there’s more coming, but so is Josh and the rest of the upper echelon. “Shut up,” I say as a preventative measure.

“His childhood friend.” She clasps her hands over her heart.

“Shut up.”

“The love that has been right beside him all along.”

“Shut.” I kick at Kenzie under the table. “Up.”

“Hi!” she says brightly as Josh reaches our table.

Will.1

The 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 tell the story from the other guy's perspective? So "Shouldn't" is getting a sequel called, "Wouldn't" (I'm very creative) and "Olive Juice" has a prequel from Declan's point of view. Here's the part where the action kicks off.

We both realize what he just did at the same time. I think I frown, I don't know, but Will's eyes get huge. I never realized how black his eyes were until his face turned into a cartoon. Just two black circles on his face surrounded by shaggy black hair. It would have been funny at any other time. He looked like he was about to apologize, and then he ran, literally ran, to his car. He almost backed into our mailbox, he was in such a hurry to leave.

Shouldn'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 notebooks. "Mr. Griffith, I expect you to behave in a manner—"

"Oh, please say, 'befitting your station.' My mom watches Downton Abbey religiously."

"You are a student!" I left out the fuckings and goddams I'd have liked to include for emphasis.

"You're uptight."

"You don't know me," I snapped. "You don't know a thing about me."

"I know how you look at me."

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

Windshield Incident 3 eBook Available

On 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 state.
Guess what color Part 4 will be.

Watching 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 if Crispin did all the same kind of research before he came over that first time. All the sanitary and safety issues—I have a new respect for the porn stars who manage to do this all day without prolapsed anuses right and left. What did he had time to do in the bathroom, then, when he jumped up and was all, "Gotta go get ready!" I wonder?

My getting ready might have been different from his, but I think I've psyched myself up enough that I'm at least prepared for when Crispin walks in at 11:30 on prom night. I greet him with a wolf whistle.

"Da-yum, Viera," I say appreciatively, and motion for him to turn around. He obliges. "I like that ass in them pants."

Crispin smiles shyly. He really does look like a pint-size GQ model with his velvet tuxedo jacket, slim-fitting pants, and his hair somehow pinned up so that it doesn’t seem long enough to reach his back. I guess I won’t be pulling on it tonight.

“People are dumb,” I say without really thinking.

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

The Windshield Incident Pt. 3 Sneak Peek

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

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.

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 Windshield Incident Pt. 1

Sometimes procrastination is the mother of productivity. Tucker Jones was born when I was in the middle of The Worst Days. The vitriolic pair in the My Neighbor series moved in between Bunny chapters 1 and 2. Most recently, as I struggle[d] to a) write the last part of the Strange Bedfellows collection that the aforementioned neighbor series became, and b) connect the plot points for Watching Him Back Ch. Billion I had a stroke of inspiration.

Watching Him Back 4.3

Brought to you by Saturday's winner, Luz.

For the second time in one day I have Crispin's hard cock in my hand. Crispin's breath mingles with mine, blowing hot over my neck. His hand is wrapped tightly around my dick, moving in time with my hand on his.

I felt like a fucking rock star when I saw him waiting by my car. He looked so self-conscious, glancing nervously at every person who walked by. All I said to him was, “Hey,” and unlocked the car, and then Crispin chewed his lip and shrank in his seat until we reached my neighborhood. Given how he jumped when I reached for his hand as soon as the car was in drive, I think he was as worried for me and my reputation as what people would think of him. Maybe that’s a weird trigger, but it turned me the fuck on.

Now it’s easier to make him come. There’s lube, there’s mood music, we’re on a couch instead of a bathroom stall, and that half hour of dry humping and making out wound him up. With his usual silence Crispin shudders and spills onto my fist, and I’m not far behind.

Today has turned out to be a very good day.

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

Watching Him Back 4.2

The first part of the fourth installment is here.

“Crispin.” There’s a tiny person to my right, tugging on him. “Let’s go.” The boy gives the last word two syllables.

Crispin and I untangle ourselves swiftly and I wipe my face.

“Sorry, this is my little brother. Quentin,” he crouches to look the boy in the eye, “say hello to my friend Aaron.”

Quentin and I shake hands. “Were you crying?” he asks suspiciously.

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