The Jockboys Saga: The Director’s Cut

Riverdale Avenue

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 45,000
0 Ratings (0.0)

Smut-meister Simon Sheppard ups the orgasmic ante with The Jockboys Saga, a funny, phallus-filled, postmodern literary romp through sweaty video shoots, sleazy adult theaters and Vegas hotels, assorted orgies and Queer Studies classes. Follow the adventures of pornstars, hunks, and just plain guys as they fall in and out of love, bed, and trouble, leaving a trail of used condoms and broken hearts in their wake. A director’s cut double feature, The Jockboys Saga includes the complete texts of the original Jockboys, the sequel, Jockboys 2, and some special bonus features. So sit back, lube up, and get ready for some very smart and sexy fun.

The Jockboys Saga: The Director’s Cut
0 Ratings (0.0)

The Jockboys Saga: The Director’s Cut

Riverdale Avenue

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 45,000
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Insatiable Fantasy Design
Excerpt

“You know, I’ve always wanted to come to a porn theater like this,” my boyfriend Chris says as we sit down, “just to see what it’s like.” Uh-oh.

At that moment the lights go down and the recorded music comes up. “Gentleman,” says the oily P.A. voice, “let’s give a big Adonis welcome to the star of such hot videos as Hung Hunters, Stud Hungry, and Jockboys, superstar Vin Stroker!”

Weak applause. And Stroker comes out in a worn pair of jeans and an old T-shirt. I recognize him, of course...as any gay man with even a passing acquaintance with porn videos would. And hey, my acquaintance is more than passing. He looks shorter in person, and the smile on his face is frozen, a mask semi-disguising his boredom at having to shoot three loads a day for rooms full of strangers. I hope he at least has Mondays off, like an art museum.

It’s not that I find Stroker unattractive, just that he’s got those cookie-cutter good looks that so many porn actors have. In fact, I notice, he looks a lot like Chris.

Stroker’s dancing isn’t as good as his fucking, at least not the bits of his fucking I’d seen flickering on the screens downstairs. But he gamely swings his hips in time to the music, turns his back to us, rips his T-shirt open, and whirls back around to show us his perfectly-muscled closely trimmed chest, his famously big nipples. He smiles even more broadly, then shifts gears to a come-hither-then-get-lost scowl as he starts to unbutton his jeans. He’s wearing a white jock strap—no surprise—and he almost-gracefully kicks off his engineer boots so he can peel down his pants.

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