Enjoy 45 Stories of Gay Love and Romance for Valentines Day
“Creampuffs. Gimme gay male creampuffs,” my publisher said. “I can sell creampuffs, and your reviewers are beginning to mark you as a writer of rough stories. And you’ve written creampuffs too. I know, I’ve read some of them. They’re hidden in there with your other writing.”
“Creampuffs? What’s a creampuff?” I asked, my defenses clanging to alert.
“Ya know—soft in the center and some sugar. Whatsitcalled? Romance, gay male Romance. Yeah, that. Creampuffs. Put together one of those anthologies.”
“OK, if you want creampuffs, I’ll give you creampuffs,” I answer. “Here is a whole glop of them—some old, some new, some even rather blue.”
This is a forty-five-story expanded change-of-publisher relaunch of a previously published anthology.
Come here, unbutton my shirt and run your hand down my belly and below my waistband. Feel that? It’s all for you.
Let it free; let it breathe. There, ahhhh. Your warm hand feels so good wrapped around my cock. Feel it growing, getting longer and thicker? That’s for you.
That’s because I love the way you look. What great shape you’re in; the way you take care of your body; the movement of your body as you approach me. How you look at me when I enter the room.
Ah, yes, I love the feel of your lips on my nipples. No, don’t stop stroking my cock while you tongue my nipples. Such hot lips, following my downy trail.
Ah, yes, put your tongue in my navel like that again. Yes, just go ahead and strip my pants off my legs. Your hands holding my hips tight, skin on skin, your face buried in my belly. I feel you taking possession of me. Taking control. I love that.
You know just what pleases me. I’m falling back onto the edge of the bed now, you supporting me and holding me to your searching lips with strong hands, the heels of your hands dug into my hips, the palms flat out, cupping my butt mounds. Oh, oh!