Water: Elemental book 2 coming soon, sneak

You can preorder book 2 in the Witches and Vampires Reverse Harem series set in Stoke Newington, London at the ebookstores.

WATER by Helen J Perry: https://books2read.com/u/4AY69o

Here – in draft – needs second proofread – little excerpt

The frantic bashing started up again. My body tensed. My eyes cracked open to darkness.

Only bad things accompany ominous banging in the dead of night.

When the din finally roused me to consciousness it was a relief to find myself in my own bed. My heartbeat raced, nevertheless.

The hammering had been going on for a while. It had permeated my already forgotten dream, giving rise to a sense of urgency and danger in my sleep. My conscious self was no less alarmed by it.

The darkness outside and the clock both confirmed it was too early to be woken, which might explain why the tired figure in the bed beside me slept on, undisturbed by the racket.

No point in laying in bed wondering who was banging until we were both awake.

When I opened the door, an agitated whirlwind pushed passed me before I could speak.

Close it,” Chet said on his way into the main room at which point he turned a full three-hundred and sixty degrees looking for god-only knew what. “Is Haydn here?” He asked before anxiously chewing his bottom lip.

You know the time, right?” I decided not to waste any further sarcasm, so I turned, muttering, “I’ll get him.”

From the hallway, I heard Haydn moving about in the bedroom above. He hadn’t slept through the din after all. “Chet’s here to see you,” I called up. “I’ll get coffee.”

Before I could return to the main room, Haydn appeared on the landing. Unlike me, he’d stopped to pull on clothes, the same ones that had been dumped on the bedroom floor yesterday, black jogging bottoms and a crumpled T-shirt. He still looked as if he’d just risen from his bed, sleepy, and in need of a brush dragging through his hair.

Not that I was naked, of course, even I wouldn’t open up the house in the altogether. I wore boxer shorts to bed, and they were good enough for around my own home, in my opinion. Anyone who barged in unexpected had to take me as they found me.

Standing at the foot of the stairs, I waited and watched while the broad giant of a man descended.

Bedraggled, he still looked like he’d just fallen out of bed. That good. To me, Haydn‘s rugged and wild appearance was as attractive as any attempts he ever made to smarten himself up. Even though we’d live together for several years, the magic between us still buzzed as much as it did when we first met.

In bed or out of it, Haydn was powerful, domineering, and dangerous. I guess that’s how I liked my men. The same could be said of Varu after all.

Since we first met, I’d always longed for Haydn in a way that I’d never experienced with anyone one else, except for that vampire. I wasn’t confused about who I loved most, or my attraction to either of them. I was lucky enough to have both of them in my life.

I swallowed down that thought with a gulp. I loved them both, but they didn’t have high opinions of each other. I’d found it best to avoid mentioning either one to the other when possible. Not that we were in a love triangle. They knew about each other and none of it was secret. Neither one of them wanted an exclusive relationship and I was happy with that too. I didn’t want to have to choose between the two of them.

EARTH & Water

Is eBook Bike a Library and where can I get free eBooks?

eBook Bike is not a library it is a criminal enterprise. Digital books are uploaded and distributed via the site without the permission of the copyright owner. If you download books from this site you are downloading an illegally produced pirate copy of an ebook. The site does not support authors but does undertake criminal activity dealing in pirated books.

Strangely enough, there are loads of ways to legitimately download get FREE ebooks which support authors and encourages them to write more books. There is no excuse to support the activities of book-pirates.

Firstly: libraries for Free ebooks

You may think of your library as a dusty old place to use the internet but libraries have access to ebooks that you can download. Authors get paid when you borrow books from legit libraries.

Secondly: Download Free ebooks at legit ebook stores

All the legit book stores (iTunes, Amazon, Google Play, Kobo, B&N, etc) have free books, Just search for them, I have free books on in those stores.

In this example, authors hope you will like their work enough to buy some of their other books.

Thirdly: Subscription Services to borrow ebooks for Free ~~~ not free but low-cost to subscribe and have access to thousands of titles.

Here’s a quick list:

  • Kindle Unlimited at Amazon
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Subscribe and borrow books through these and the authors get paid.

Fourth, Free ebooks: Review Copies

You could offer work to receive free books: to leave reviews via one of the review services:



Sometimes books are on sale down to as little as 0.99 or Free for only a temporary time. You can subscribe to various newsletters that will alert you to these and only link to reputable websites. Here are a few examples:

  • BookBub.com
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What is wrong with downloading a book from eBook Bike?

Most authors aren’t well paid, we are on a really low rate of pay for the hours we put into writing books. Most can’t live off writing income alone. And then there is the cost of editing, books covers, formatting, advertising, etc. It costs money to publish a book. If you love books you would support the legitimate business of book publishing.

Sites like eBook Bike and the many other sites offering millions of Free Pirated books undermine our small incomes. The owners of those sites aren’t supporting AUTHORS, the book business, and they don’t care about readers. They are nothing more than internet scammers who will set up multiple websites to try and earn easy money for themselves no matter who is harmed and with no care about the illegality of their business.


If you would like to find my FREE ebooks on legitimate sites they are here:



Our Secret Wedding









Earth: Elemental Witches & Vampires Reverse Harem

It’s out this week. You can read the first 11,000 words here to check it out. Try before you buy. It is book 1 of 4 so there’s a cliffhanger. Be prepared for lots of unresolved questions.


One vampire, five witches.

  • One young woman alone in the world who doesn’t know about her own power.
  • Five men who’ve promised to protect her.
  • Hot and dangerous from the get-go.

Of all the weird things that happened to me, dying had to be the worst.
Later, it turned out I wasn’t dead after all, and that came as a real shock.

The bare-chested witches and the undead Romanian vampire are all that stand between me and the demons who want to kill me.
Oh, yes, and salt and magic, if you can believe that.
And that was just the start of the craziness.
And did I mention the men’s bare chests?
These guys seem to have a problem with clothes.
Not that I’m complaining.

Sorry, I ramble and digress when the threat of impending death gets too much.

Anyway, three of the guys seem to have the hots for each other and it’s bound to end in tears, but that’s another story. I’ll find out more and let you know IF I survive the night.

EARTH is book one in a sizzling four-book paranormal romance series set in London.
It features:

  • Witches, magic, and vampires.
  • A kick-ass woman at the heart of the story.
  • Bisexual characters in a reverse harem romance.
  • More explicit MMF scenes than you can wave a witch’s wand at.
  • Knife crime and fruit smoothies.
  • Hackney in East London.
  • A cliffhanger.

51,000 words

READ more: buy it here: https://books2read.com/u/md0MpX
EXCERPT: of Earth: Elemental Reverse Harem Quartet


Malka Selby

Globules of saliva dripped from menacing canine teeth. The huge black dogs looked hungry, violent, and much too close for comfort. Heaven knows how I didn’t see them approaching before they were within five feet.

When I noticed them, it was too late. The dog duo rushed forward tugging at the ends of their very long leashes and their warm breaths smelled of raw meat, death, and decay.

I only had an instant to register my distaste before a sudden gust of wind knocked me off balance. It forced me to step back to steady myself. The same blast of air brought the dogs to a temporary halt as if a solid but invisible wall forced its way between us. As a bonus, it blew the stench of their poor oral hygiene in another direction.

The reprieve lasted only a moment before the dogs lunged. It all happened so fast that I didn’t see the dog owners.

My life flashed in front of my eyes, but I never discovered how it ended.

A man stepped between me and the slathering hounds, and not a moment too soon. His hand movements were a blur while I froze, helpless with terror.

The creatures slowly slinked backward, they appeared as stunned as I was, and that’s when I saw each of them had their huge powerful jaws wrapped around what you might call a stick. It appeared more like two giant dogs the size of horses chewing on baby tree trunks.

The man who intervened and cut short my terrifying ordeal altered the course of my first twenty-four hours in London.

Are you all right?” When he turned to face me he looked about my age, early twenties. I expect heroes to be older.

I’m fine,” I lied, I was shaken. “No harm done to me, but what about you? What were you thinking? You could’ve been eaten whole.” I talk a lot when I’m shaken. “Did you see the size of those teeth? They weren’t normal. Do you usually step into danger like that? And why were you carrying those logs?”

As if I were the wild animal in need of pacifying, he raised his hand, palm towards me. “I saw the dogs from some distance off, and noticed that you hadn’t seen them. I simply picked up the first things I saw lying on the street to use for defense.” His hands swept the space in front of him as he answered calmly. He didn’t appear shaken at all. Anyone would think battling rabid dogs was all part of an ordinary night out in London.

Thank you.” Glancing over his shoulder, I expected to see the dogs and their owners, but they’d completely vanished, possibly taking a turn down a side street.

A second figure appeared alongside my savior, but I paid him no attention. “Do you need any help?” he asked.

Still trembling with fear and shock, I shook my head. “No thanks. I’m fine.” Not fine at all.

We can escort you to the tube or stay with you if you’re waiting for a lift, if you want.” Apparently, these two men were together. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you don’t see those hell hounds again.”

Hell hounds? Is that the official name of the breed? Good name. I’d never seen anything like them.

I’m sure, I’ll be fine,” I repeated like the part of my brain that controlled speech was stuck in one groove. There were no dogs within sight so I readjusted my eyes to focus on the gallant men.

Two sets of concerned eyes watched me. I had the full attention of two handsome men of around my age.

Really, I’ll be okay. I’m staying in this hotel right here.” I nodded in the direction of the building to my left. We were just a few feet from the door. “I don’t need to go anywhere. In fact, it was just bad timing that I met those dogs. A minute later and I’d have been safely inside.”

At least chatting distracted me from thinking about the lucky escape. And these weren’t just any listeners. They were distractingly hot guys. I refocused again to make sure they really were young, handsome, and gallant. To my mind those things didn’t go together in the twenty-first century, did they?

We’re staying in this same hotel.” My savior tilted his head and raised his dark eyebrows in surprised. An attractive smile formed on his appealing full lips. Let’s get inside, shall we?”

I liked the way his tongue licked his lips after he spoke and I wouldn’t mind hearing him saying the same thing to me under very different circumstances that also involved licking.

Chivalrously he rolled his arm and bent his body in a slight bow as he said, “After you.”

Another freakish gust of wind blew along the street. I shivered and moved toward the door fishing my key card from my pocket at the same time. It was just after midnight so the outer door was locked, or at least it should have been.

A group of people who were leaving the hotel held the door open for the three of us, making the white square of plastic redundant. The polite action made me wonder how easily people who weren’t guests could just wander into the hotel. It didn’t bear thinking about. And then I stopped thinking about that because the elevator was waiting for us with the doors open.

We’re on the third floor. You’re welcome to come to our room for a drink if you want some company while you get over the shock,” said a sultry voice as we entered the small square box. His warm breath caressed my ear.

But I don’t know you.” I hit the button for the third floor.

My brain should have sent me danger alerts about entering a hotel room outnumbered by two strange men. Instead, it occurred to me that being ravished in a hotel room by wild boys was far preferable to being savaged by wild dogs. My erogenous areas tingled with arousal.

My name’s Charlie,” said the guy with the fast hands. And broad shoulders. And intense dark eyes. “And this is Neal.”

And we have beer,” Neal added.

I’m Malka.”

Leaning against the wall of the elevator with his thumbs hooked in the top of his low hanging jeans, Charlie flashed a seductive smile. “That’s put us on first-name terms. Let us know if we can do anything else to make you feel safe?”

Undress? My brain flooded with inappropriate ideas before I thought of an answer that I could share.

Neal came up with a suggestion. “You should send a message to a friend to let her know you’re in our room.”

I didn’t have a phone and couldn’t text anyone, but it wasn’t something I’d eagerly admit to. I didn’t want them to think of me as vulnerable, pathetic, or a freak. The fact being, I was the only adult on the planet without a mobile phone. I’d acknowledge the weirdness of my situation only to my closest friends. Me and technology, we didn’t get along. Maybe I should have been born at least a century earlier.

Shrugging, in what I intended as a carefree way, I said, “I’m on the third floor too, so it wouldn’t be too far out of my way to stop by for a sociable drink with you two. And my instincts tell me you’re good people.”

We arrived on the third floor. Charlie led the way, and I followed his swagger along the corridor to their room.

Malka, it’s an unusual name.” Neal walked beside me. He must’ve noticed that my gaze had been fixed on his friend’s arse, but he didn’t comment on that.

I guess it might be. I’ve met a few women with the same name while I’ve been traveling, but none in England. The name’s Jewish and means queen.”

Are you a Jewish queen?”

I laughed. “I wasn’t raised as any religion. I don’t know about my ancestors, I expect they were Christian. I went to Christian school.” And I hoped we could leave my background there. I didn’t like confessing to either a privileged education in an elite private school afforded by only the richest families along with the fact of my criminally absent parents. It was all too out of the ordinary.

Sounds much the same as us.” Charlie swiped the plastic key card. It didn’t work. He tried it again and then again. The third time brought success, and he switched on the light as he led the way into the room. He sat down on one of the two beds and pointed to the only chair for me.

These dudes were easy to get along with. We had plenty of stuff in common, for sure. They were British, judging by their accents, they were about my age, and staying in a budget hotel at Kings Cross.

At least they had two beds, which was lucky for them.

Betty and I had to share a bed. We’d only pitched up at the hotel a few hours earlier, searching for a room when we were straight off the train in from mainland Europe. It was dusk when we’d arrived, and the hotel only had rooms for two sleeping in the same bed. Still, Betty was my dear friend from school and we’d just spent three years traveling and roughing it together. This wasn’t the first time we’d shared a bed.

Beer? Or something stronger?” Neal offered. He’d trailed in behind and remain near the door to rummage through their luggage. He held up a bottle and a bottle opener. “We’re prepared for most things, so long as alcohol is required.”

From where I sat, I had a good opportunity to watch him. Neal was just as fit as his friend. Appearance wise, they looked like a couple of magazine fashion models. The sort of guys who could tempt new women back to their rooms every night. Yet, here they were making their way back to their hotel room empty-handed, or they would have been if they hadn’t met me outside. And they didn’t seem cocky and arrogant, which I associated with guys who looked like that.

After kicking his shoes off, Charlie lay back, stretching out on the bed. “Or, if you prefer, not so strong? We’ve got bottles of water.”

A pack of nine sat on the desk immediately beside me, unopened and still wrapped in aqua-blue plastic. I couldn’t miss them.

I’ll go for a beer, thanks. It’s after midnight. Don’t you think it’s rather late for people to be out walking their dogs?”

Dunno.” Charlie placed his hands behind his head, which was only slightly raised by his pillow. His T-shirt rode up revealing washboard abs. “I’ve never had a dog.”

In time to rehydrate my drying mouth, Neal handed me a bottle of lager and a bottle opener. I levered the metal top loose from the bottle and handed the opener back. Taking a big glug from the bottle, I downed half of it in no time. “If those dogs got closer without biting I’d have died from dog-breath-intoxication. They should’ve been wearing muzzles. What breed do you think they were? Do you think they’re on the dangerous dog breeds register?”

I’ve no idea. They were too big to be pit bulls.” Neal perched on the very edge of his bed with his knees wide apart and two beers in his hands, one apparently for Charlie.

Didn’t one of you mention a dog breed before?” I asked. I thought they’d called the dogs a specific name, but the word had fallen from my memory. They exchanged glances and didn’t answer.

You know, when we were away we spent many a night telling stories around campfires on beaches.” Neal shifted his weight on the bed. “I’m not suggesting we light a fire in this room, but we could get more comfortable if we put the pillows and duvets on the floor.”

Charlie swung his legs around so his feet were back on the floor. “Great idea, Na—, Neil. more comfortable and closer.” Standing up, he threw his bedding into the pit between the beds.

I’m all for it,” I agreed. Anything to get off the plastic chair that was designed to be cheap and robust rather than stylish and comfortable. Dropping down next to Charlie, I made myself at home on his pile of bed linen, which involved sitting right up close to him. His arm felt warm next to mine, and he smelled good too.

Before joining us on the floor, Neal got up and gathered more drinks, both beer and water. He put them on the floor at the foot of his bed. “We might need sustenance within arms reach.” Not only was he an attentive gentleman, I decided he was every bit as sexy as his friend.

Charlie leaned forward to accept a beer bottle opened by Neal. “I like the way you’re thinking. Cheers, mate.”

When he sat down opposite me, Neal stretched his long legs out so they were beside me, the other side from Charlie. Neal picked up my feet and carefully removed my shoes, putting them to one side. He placed my feet, still in their socks, onto his lap.

Attempting to control my emotions, I focused on what brought me to their room. “Wouldn’t it be unfortunate to be killed by a dog just a few feet from the safety of my hotel?”

Neal’s fingers pressed firmly against the bases of both feet as he rubbed them. “You were never in any danger.”

How could he know that?

Heaven followed as his fingers worked the souls of my feet.

Instead of telling him how much I liked what he was doing, I said, “Says the man who stood by and watched but did nothing.” Intended as friendly banter, my teasing may have sounded harsh. “Hey, don’t worry. I wouldn’t have saved you from a savage brutal beast either. The man who stepped in front of those dogs needs a sanity check.” I nudged Charlie in the ribs and realized we were actually leaning on one another. “If your friend wasn’t there, I think they’d have had my throat.”

You do know, hardly anyone in this country dies from dog bites? They were more than likely going to lick you all over before I gave them those sticks to chew on.” Charlie picked up a bottle of water and pushed it into my hands. “Water before more beer.”

I couldn’t disagree with that wisdom.

Neal passed me my second bottle of the amber nectar, again lid still sealed firmly in place. After all the bad stories I’d heard on my travels of drinks being spiked, I certainly appreciated the reassurance of seeing sealed bottles. I felt safe with these guys.

If there’s any dog who’d want to lick you all over it’s probably my mate sitting beside you,” Neal said.

Fuck off, Neal. I’m not a dog.”

My heart beat a little faster. I ignored Charlie’s repost and asked Neal, “Charlie’s good with his tongue, is he?”

If there was going to be any nuzzling involved, I think it’s Ch—, Charlie who’s your man for the job.”

As Neal stuttered, the temperature in the room rose a couple of degrees. I think the air con must have clicked on too as I felt a warm breeze around my neck.

Neal might’ve tapped into my horny brainwaves with his comment, but I could raise the ante.

Only Charlie? My friend Betty’s gone off to spend the night with two guys she met this evening.” Lucky Betty. “I don’t think one of the guys was going to be left out. In fact, isn’t there a saying, ‘one man’s good and two men are better?”

Charlie turned his head towards me, which put his mouth very near mine. “I’m not impressed by a friend leaving you alone in London like that when you were almost attacked and eaten by wild beasts.”

You just said they were more likely to lick me and hardly anyone ever dies as a result of a dog bite. I was at more risk of being run over by the night bus.” My body might be reacting in the usual way to how gorgeous this man looked and smelled, but the feminist in me refused to let any man tell me women need to take additional precautions for our own safety because we are women. Even if I had enjoyed him being gallant and chivalrous. “Anyway, she didn’t just abandon me. She asked me if it was okay. We were only in the bar next to the hotel. A girl should be able to walk from one building to another, just a few yards, at any time of day or night.”

Having reached the ends of my feet, Neal squeezed my toes. “I agree with you. The streets should be safe for everyone. I’m not so sure about your misquote. Isn’t it from Orwell’s Animal Farm? We read it in school.”

His fingers were distracting, and I wondered what else he could do with them. I had no idea feet in general and toes, in particular, had a direct connection with the clitoris.

I read Animal Farm at my school too.” Even I could hear that I sounded kind of breathless when I spoke. And it wasn’t George Orwell that took my breath away.

Then you’re remembering it wrong. It’s four legs good, two legs better.” Charlie’s voice sounded like a low pitched purring lion in my ear.

I felt myself heating up to the core and was aware of things getting wetter.

Hmm, that can’t be right.” I pointed at Charlie. “You’ve got two legs, and he has two legs. Four’s definitely better. I’ve just been saved from the jaws of death, I think I’m entitled to celebrate the good things about being alive.” I turned my face toward Charlie. His face was right there, next to mine. His cheek felt rough against mine but his mouth when it met mine was something else. He tasted of hot, sexy man.

Even though I was busy kissing his friend, Neal didn’t stop working on my feet. He pulled my toes and twisted his fingers around and in between them, and twisting the cotton sock fabric at the same time. He squeezed my little toe and said, “This little piggy went to market.” Moving to the next tow he did the same. “This little piggy went to school.” And then the next. As he worked through the digits, each squeeze and pull tugged away a layer of my protective inhibitions, took away my breath, and brought me closer to squealing all the way home.

This little piggy had none.” Neal’s voice sounded sultry.

Pulling away from Charlie, I declared, “There’s no need for any of us to have none.” And I resumed the kiss.

Although this seemed sluttish and forward of me, I felt safer than I ever had. It was like I’d known these guys forever.

I’d grown sick of being careful and boring. I’d done that for three years while traveling in countries where I didn’t speak the national language. I’d come back without a personal horror story about being raped or drugged, thank goodness, but I’d not slept with nearly enough people, in my opinion, and I’d never had a threesome.

Neal didn’t disappoint when his little piggy ran home. Firmly, he stroked his hand right up my leg and the inside of my thigh. The movement was slow enough for me to call a halt if I’d wanted to (I didn’t), but fast enough to be perfect.

Don’t Stop.

Don’t stop.”


Malka Selby

Slowly, I slipped backward until I lay on the makeshift mattress of duvet and pillows between the beds. Charlie came with me, his lips sealed to mine in a breathtaking kiss that continued when he was half on top of me.

A warm breeze seemed to whip around the room, it must’ve come in through an open window even though the sound of traffic did not.

Neal moved with me too. He changed position so that he lay next to me. Meanwhile, his hand smoothed up and over my jeans, pausing when he reached the sensitive part at the top of my inner thigh. Thick denim didn’t prevent this from feeling incredible and intimate. His warm hand cupped my crotch. I could feel the pressure of his fingers where it mattered most, against my nub and where I wanted them. He didn’t stop there. His hand continued up, and he popped the top button of my jeans but attempted to disrobe me no further.

I gasped when he tucked his fingers just under the waistband of my jeans and stroked my bare stomach. Instead of going deeper, he drew his hand up under my top until he found Charlie’s hand already cupping one of my breasts. Luckily, I have two.

Neal’s hand worked its way under Charlie’s body until I had the hands of two men squeezing my breasts and teasing my nipples.

I broke my kiss with Charlie so I could turn and kiss Neal, and why not? Neither of the men seemed to mind that they were sharing me so I intended to make the most of it.

I hadn’t figured out where to put my own hands so I decided using them to pop open my jeans and push them down might be a good move. It was already late at night, and I wanted to encourage these guys to get on with things not politely take their time. I didn’t need seducing.

When Charlie realized what I was doing, he sat up. I was too busy with my mouth attached to the other guy’s face to check on Charlie, but the next thing I knew he batted my hands away and took over. He pulled my jeans and underwear right the way down my legs and off.

Bare arousal swept through me. Some of it seeped out on to Charlie’s fingers, which were slipping over my moist folds. “You’re so very wet.” He sounded in awe of my wetness, but the two of them were to blame.

And if he thought that was wet I ought to warn him about the coming flood. There was no way the dam of self-control would stay in place for long. Not when my hands were feeling Neal’s sculpted torso and while his hand taunted my bullet-hard nipple. He turned out to have the physique of a god under his clothes and his kisses tasted of pure sex.

An orgasm very soon was almost guaranteed.

Especially as long as a second equally sexy guy touched me there.

Although I’d have liked more, on the inside as well, Charlie didn’t keep stroking me.

It was too much for my sanity. Didn’t he hear me say don’t stop? The bastard would make me beg.

But no. Before I pushed Neal away so that I could beg, Charlie, pushed my legs apart at the knees.


He slipped his broad shoulders between my knees. I knew my private lady-parts were completely available for his scrutiny and that looking wasn’t all he’d do.

Oh mercy.

His hot tongue was just what I wanted right then and exactly what I got.

Fuck me.

Squirming under his touch, I didn’t want to throw him off, but the sensations his mouth delivered to my clit weren’t the something a woman could stay still for.

I bent my knees and planted my feet firmly on the floor so I could raise my pelvis up toward the source of pleasure. And I held on to Neal as if my life depended on it, kissing him for all he was worth.

Kissing and moaning into his mouth. Thrusting upwards. My juices flowing like he’d tapped into a buried water source and my love tunnel had sprung a leak. My body was doing its own thing, no longer under my conscious control. My brain worked in it’s own mysterious way too.

I was going to fucking come right there and then like that between these two guys who still had all their clothes on and didn’t seem to mind if I used them for my sexual gratification.

Fuck me. Fingers.

I was too aroused for one finger, and I’m not sure I’d have felt it in my channel, which was awash with more lubricant than many well-oiled machines.

Fortunately, he pushed far more than one finger in. I didn’t see, but I’d guess three. And just like that my body contorted, cramped, spasmed, and urged him to thrust in and out.

He did. Good boy. He thrust in and out with his fingers and kept his mouth over my clit and I tried not to thrash about—not too much—through my orgasm.

The air was sucked from my lungs.

I was breathless.

Gasping for air.

Climactic sensations seized me.

Not only did I come, but I let myself go. True and complete release. In a way that I never dreamed possible with men I’d only just met.

With strangers.

I relaxed in a way that was usually only possible on my own. I hoped I’d one day find myself at such uninhibited ease with a lover. Someone I knew well and trusted. It seemed impossible. This level of arousal, of carefree abandon. With strangers. And yet I was there. Living it.

When I came, the men didn’t stop and withdraw from me, like other lovers I’d had.

Charlie slowed his movements right down, and a finger dropped from my pussy but he didn’t pull out completely. He didn’t remove his tongue away from my clit either, not until I pushed him away.

Charlie licked around his own lips before wiping his face on the back of his hand. “You taste magical. I could never get enough of that.”

Neal huffed. “I wish I was in his position, but your mouth tastes amazing too. I’ve wanted to kiss you forever.”

We’ve only just met.” I ran my hand down to feel the bulge of his crotch. Neal’s dick was hard, thick and long and I wanted it.

He groaned. “It feels as if I’ve known you forever.”

He wanted something too.

I went to undo his jeans, but his hand fell over mine. “Hold on. I’m already on the edge.”

What about you Charlie? Are you all right down there?” I looked down my body to the other man who grinned back at me looking very pleased with himself.

He gave me a thumbs up sign with one hand. The other was still attached to my do-da. “Hope you’re ready for more.”

Are you kidding? This is my first ever threesome, I don’t mind if it goes on all night.” So that I’ve got a great story to tell Betty, I thought, but I didn’t tell them that bit. “But I shouldn’t be the only person without pants.”

Two grinning guys shook off their clothes, tops and bottoms. I still wore my top, but I made no attempt to remove it. For one thing, it was a bit breezy in their room, although it had certainly stayed warm enough. And for another, watching the two men strip commanded all my attention.

They had the bodies of supermodels. It was a little intimidating, and I thought I might never get to shag anyone so easy on the eye ever again so I’d better make the most of it.

And then there was the bonus of two men at once.

If you were happy with what we just did, I’d like to swap positions and taste you.”

Oh, god. Yes.

I expected they’d want to get on with the fucking. Possibly double entry or spit roast. Wasn’t that what men wanted when they shared a girl? And I wasn’t about to say no. I wanted to try those things too, but I’d be more than willing for more pussy-licking and kissing first.

Neal proved as expert at oral and fingering techniques as his pall. Didn’t they say they’d gone to school together? Well, they were outstanding in this lesson.

Speaking of outstanding, while Neal made me come several times with his mouth and fingers turning me into a gibbering pile of mush, Charlie kissed me. I stroked his dick; my fingers only just wrapped around it, it was girthy as well as long.

It was never my intention to make him come too soon, I wanted to suck his dick and feel it in me, but when I came for the umpteenth time he shuddered and jerked too. The wet evidence of his orgasm splattered against me.

Perhaps it wouldn’t take him long to recover?

He used his discarded T-shirt to mop up the mess, and I looked at Neal who had sat up, his eye’s wide and his lips looked full and red.

Do you guys have condoms? Because I have some in my bag.”

For a moment, I thought I saw a panicked expression flash across Neal’s face, but I must have imagined it. “Do you like sucking cock?” He sounded almost timid.

Are you kidding?” I wouldn’t say no to anything after what he’d done for me. He didn’t need to ask twice. I got up on my knees before him. My mouth was ready for both of them and I wondered if double-entry oral was a thing.



Malka Selby

Much later, in the later afternoon, I was walking along Kingsland High Street when my feet left the floor and I flew backward. I traveled a mere few inches before a plate-glass window halted my momentum.

My brain hardly registered the angry shouting only a few feet away while I was slammed against the nearest vertical surface and held helplessly pinned against the glass by a muscular, mountain of maleness.

It’s a wonder I hadn’t noticed him on the street minutes before he grabbed me. With his wild Viking looks, his long, golden locks, and his great height, he must have stood out from the crowd in the busy London shopping street.

His solid, broad, body pressed firmly against me. His crazy-green eyes, flecked with yellow and gold, gazed into mine. I didn’t see him before but now this man had my full attention.

Making a mental note of his striking features in case I should need to give a description later or pick him out of a police lineup, I concluded my attacker wasn’t entirely unlike a long-haired and youthful Viking Norse God Thor, particularly a version played by actor Chris Hemsworth. Although this stranger’s hair was slightly longer and more golden, strawberry-blond AKA ginger. So the whole Chris Hemsworth connection was more wishful thinking. If any man was going to grab me in the street and press himself against me, I just wanted it to be Chris Hemsworth. Or one of his brothers.

For the briefest fraction of a second, a fantasy about the sexual chemistry between myself and a Thor-look-alike flitted about my brain. It was shooed away by the fact that this man had just assaulted me and it wasn’t over. My feet weren’t on the floor. He still held me aloft and invaded my personal space.

Obviously, he hadn’t read the memo about keeping away from me, the daughter of The Black Widow. A warning that I might be as dangerous as my mother would circulate in East London soon enough. My mother’s nickname didn’t come from the Marvel comics but did come from the spider connection, she acquired it after killing a bunch of men.

It occurred to me that I might want to take full advantage of my anonymity and sleep with all the gorgeous men who looked like Viking warriors while I could before they found out about my crazy mother. A story guaranteed to put any man off me.

Thinking about sleeping with a stranger who’d just accosted me wasn’t my first inappropriate thought of the day. There had been so many, it’s just how my brain worked. It must have been the after-affect of the threesome that started the night before and had continued into that morning. Waking up between two guys on a hotel floor after a night devoted to oral sex certainly inspired sexy mental meanderings.

Shush,” he whispered in a low voice.

Dazed and breathless, no matter how lewd my thoughts, I certainly hadn’t voiced them aloud.

Gorgeous looks and Scandinavian background notwithstanding, there was no excuse for manhandling me and then shushing me without introductions first.

Winded, gasping for breath, I didn’t call out for help, which would have been the obvious thing to do. Too shocked to fight back, I didn’t attempt to knee him in the groin. It wasn’t an option anyway because my trapped legs were tightly sandwiched between a solid man and shatter-proof glass.

Biting his ear seemed to be the only avenue of attack open to me.

I added earrings to the mental description. Several. All different. All silver. A hoop, a little stud with a red jewel, and one of silver threads fashioned into a geometric shape. I blinked and looked away, unwilling to be reminded of the torture of mathematics lessons due to which I should know the names of those damned figures.

Even though I was held against my will in a vice-like grip, at that point I wasn’t overly worried about my predicament. I felt inexplicably safe. A man couldn’t just accost a woman in a crowded public place and expect to get away with it.

The ginger stranger had a sincere face. He didn’t look like a pervert, if only you could tell, but I couldn’t feel a hard-on pressed against me. And believe me, we were close enough that if he had any erection of note, I’d have known about it.

It was late afternoon. or early evening, take your pick depending on what time of day you get up. I’d not been awake long so I’d opt for late afternoon. The autumn sun had set a while ago, but the streetlights, the traffic, and the shopfronts ensured Dalston was bright and well-lit, busy and bustling. We were surrounded by people.

It seemed like a long while that I dangled there before my mind began to process the events, but it probably took two or three seconds.

Shield,” he whispered.


Only because Thor held me aloft could I look him in the face, and even consider his ear within biting reach. More importantly, I caught a glimpse over his shoulder.

Behind him, men were passing by. They appeared agitated. The reason for that may have been to do with the man at the center of the group who wore a loud 1970s retro shirt. It wasn’t the dazzling shirt that made me believe he was at the heart of the commotion. It was the fucking huge machete that he waved above his head as if it were a harmless flag or banner on a protest march.

The men were shouting at each other, arguing in a language that I didn’t understand, Turkish, I’d guess, given we were at Dalston and its local population. I couldn’t understand a word of it except for the frequent expletive.

On my travels, I’d discovered fuck and taxi are two words that are the same in any language. These men weren’t hailing taxis.

Thor and I weren’t the only people squashed against the store-front.

We were part of a silent huddle of men, women, and children. Everyone held their breaths as they stood petrified. Using their bodies to hide and protect their loved ones, adults held on to youngsters, burying their innocent faces in clothing so they wouldn’t see.

Turned to the buildings, people stayed still and quiet, trying to make themselves small and invisible. I knew what they were all thinking because I had the same idea. They hoped they wouldn’t attract the attention of Retro Shirt. Collectively, we tested the magic we’d all learned as kids: if we didn’t see him, he wouldn’t see us. By the same token, if we didn’t look at the sharp blade, it wouldn’t find us.

It dawned on me that the huge wall of man-muscle might have just saved my skin. His broad back almost completely shielded my body. He continued to offer protection while, like the other people, he didn’t look back.

Shield? Is that what he’d meant?

I looked beyond my human shield.

Some people were calling out. He said he’s going to cut his head off,” one voice shouted.

Thanks for the translation but TMI.

Although, even I knew it wasn’t verbatim because I actually heard frequent fucks in every sentence.

No one needs the F word translated. But if they didn’t translate his sentence accurately how much could I trust in the translation at all. If he was just going after one specific person then I needn’t worry. Obviously, I don’t condone his intentions, but at least I didn’t face imminent danger. However, what if I’m going to cut their heads off, or I’m going to cut all your heads off were more accurate translations, minus the fucks. Only slight changes in the words, but quite different meanings.

As things stood, I didn’t know whether we were in danger or who the intended target.

In English, and in an incongruous cockney accent, Retro shirt shouted in my direction, “I’m going to fucking cut his fucking head from his fucking shoulders.”

Plenty of fucks there made him sound proper cockney.

Finally, fear took hold. My mouth went dry and my stomach felt like that sharp blade had sliced through it.

I shut my eyes hoping that he wasn’t focused on me.

And if I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me.

Yet again I thought, wouldn’t it be great if there was such a thing as invisibility magic and it worked that way?

The ground trembled. That always seemed magical. I’d come to accept that it was only caused by a passing lorry or an underground train. There weren’t earthquakes or volcanoes in England.

I’d only been back in the country of my birth less than twenty-four hours, and it had been non-stop eventful. Savage dogs, my first threesome, machete-man. Whatever next?

When the sound of the shouting moved away, and I sensed the people around me beginning to breathe again, I opened my eyes.

People scuttled away whispering and holding on to their family members.

Thor stepped back and lowered me to the ground.

Not usually stuck for words, I was at a loss after sharing such a scary and intimate moment. I should say something like thank you for protecting me and I liked your big body squashing all my soft bits.

Thor looked all about, up and down the street and across it, everywhere but at me.

He didn’t give me the opportunity to say anything. “Shield,” he said in a low whisper. Then he walked away without looking back. He wasn’t going to disappear into the crowd soon. He was a real-life human Hagrid who’d always tower above most people, and I’ll bet he got fed up with being asked if he played basketball.

Stunned and confused, I stood still and watched him pace off toward Stoke Newington, the same direction as I should’ve been going except I just stood still in a daze. When I felt a gentle hand upon my left bicep, I looked away from him.

Are you all right?” The young woman of about my age looked vaguely familiar, but I wasn’t sure where from. Not here, that was for sure. I hadn’t been down this road for almost fifteen years.

She had black hair and tanned skin. She might have been Turkish, but I couldn’t assume everyone around Dalston was from that country.

Yes, I’m fine.” I wasn’t. I was in shock. I needed to work on a better response to such questions if things like this were going to keep happening. “You should check on the kids, not me.”

Of all people, I knew from first-hand experience that children shouldn’t be confronted with the reality of knife crime. They shouldn’t be aware of people being hacked to death, even less see such a monster as that man making terrifying threats.

Realistically, I was the last person who could offer support at a time like this. The event stirred up my childhood memories in a way that I didn’t want to deal with right then.

Though I didn’t actually see the murders with my own eyes, I’d grown-up haunted by stories of people stabbed and decapitated in frenzied knife attacks. It was all too close to home.

Ignoring the woman and everyone else, I glanced back in the direction Thor had taken. He’d disappeared from view. That’s what I needed to do too. Get the day back on track. It was already late enough after last night’s impromptu party.

Incredibly, my threesome buddies hadn’t snoozed after they come for the first time, they’d insisted on sitting up through the night. We’d chatted, and drank, and kissed, and more. When I thought I couldn’t stay awake any longer, one of them would go down on me, an action guaranteed to wake me up. All in all, it passed as a very pleasant night of sleep-deprived torture. It had been well into the day by the time I left the guys and went back to my room to catch up on sleep.

The consequence of my late night meant I had a late check out from the hotel. I then deposited all my worldly goods in a couple of bags in a luggage place next to Kings Cross station. I wasn’t sure whether I’d be staying in Stoke Newington, checking into a hotel in London, or taking off on more travels again.

It all resulted in my trip to Hackney taking place in the evening instead of the daytime as I’d intended. If I’d have been earlier, I would have missed that bit of excitement.

Keeping the children close, many of the adults were scuttling swiftly away. Other people around me were talking on mobile phones, I overheard enough to know at least one person called the police.

There wasn’t anything practical I could do to be helpful by sticking around. I could give a description but other people around me seemed to know the man. I heard them mentioning names in their conversations. There were plenty of witnesses so they didn’t need me. I felt a little useless. And drained.

Good.” I heard her say as I walked away. I looked back.

She raised a crash helmet and pulled it over her head. It wasn’t a leather jacket she was wearing, as I first thought, but full leather motorcycle leathers.

Her motorbike rested right by where she stood, which was along the path that machete man had walked so she couldn’t have been parked there through the traumatic event.

She wasn’t there when it all happened, yet she’d stopped and spoken only to me.

I need to calm down and take five minutes out. I couldn’t go from this incident directly to face my own past head-on. I shuddered. I didn’t like to think about sharing my former home with a brutal mass murderer, no matter how many years had passed, and no matter that she was my mother.

By luck, I found myself standing outside the perfect place to regroup before making my way back to the house that held so many memories. Needing a drink, I headed into the nearest bar.



Varu Vasile

My teeth ached. I could almost taste her when she entered the room. She was no more human than I was. Tantalizingly, she walked right up and pulled out the stool next to me at the counter.

What are the chances?” Of a woman like that entering my space?

I didn’t finish the thought aloud. What were the chances of a witch like that approaching me without trying to kill me as if I didn’t pose a danger?

Yet, here she was, alone and pretty much harmless and defenseless, from what I could tell.

Pardon?” Sitting down on the bar stool, she turned to look at me directly when asking her question. “Did you say something?”

I wondered why of all the juice bars in all of the towns in all of London you had to walk into mine?”

Her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Yours? This is your juice bar?”

Why shouldn’t it be?” The question was a test. Did she know who I was? What I was? Would she tell me that vampires don’t do cafés, restaurants, and bars?

You’re about my age.” She shook her head. “I suppose you don’t have to be old to run a juice bar.”

I smiled. So we were going to do this. Pretend we’re both mundane. Pretend we’re of a similar age.

I’d guess you’re twenty, coming up to twenty-one. And I’m just a tad older.” Tad older by hundreds of years, poppet. And the youth of today don’t say tad, do they? I mentally kicked myself for the error. And they don’t call each other poppet. “And if the Dalston Smoothie Shack wasn’t mine, why else do you think they’d let me sit in the prime seat at bar, here, without a drink?” I waved my hand across the clear countertop in front of me.

The cafe wasn’t mine, of course. I threw out the challenge to test her reaction again.

For one obvious reason I could sit anywhere I damn well wanted. As an aged elder vampire, I possessed powers that witches could only dream of. Powers that should’ve meant she stayed well away from me, if she knew what I was.

I was a little arrogant, I’ll admit it.

What can I get you?” Chris, the bartender, interrupted our conversation.

Um, I haven’t decided.” She stared up at the chalkboard beyond him.

Chris reached out to pick up a laminated menu but before he handed it to her, I offered my own suggestion.

May I recommend the Red Berry Delight?” There were few things lovelier than watching the rich, red liquid wash around lips and the residue settle around smiling white teeth. Of course, I wanted to watch her consume a drink the color of fresh blood rather than something like newly mown grass or, even worse, warm sunlight.

My purpose for visiting the Smoothie Shack was one big ulterior motive. This was the best place to pick up an early evening snack, even for a blood-sucking vampire, because healthy-juice drinkers had the sweetest vital fluid.

I hadn’t expected the scintillating scent of the blood of a powerful young witch to come so close to me, the provocation was almost more temptation than my aged teeth could take.

Merely the smell alone was almost as good as draining the blood of a virgin. You don’t find many adult virgins in East London these days, at least not one without a chaperone.

The last time I stumbled such a delicious smelling stranger was the young, virgin, water witch, Beck Colborn, several years ago, and that was also right here in Dalston. The blood of a virgin witch is hard to resist and in Beck, it turn out he tasted every bit as good as he smelt.

It’s her first time in this place, Chris, make it a Red Berry Delight on the house.” I worded my order to suggest I was in charge of the place. And in a way I was, it was the natural order of things, powerful vampires in charge. It didn’t matter that I didn’t own the Smoothie Shack, Chris was compelled to carry out my bidding. “My treat. Now, while Chris whizzes up the fruit-filled delight, tell me why you’re here?”

For a smoothie?” Her eyes examined me intently. “I mean a drink. Obviously, what other kind of smoothie could I mean?” Her cheeks colored a little her scent also gave her away, she was flirting with me, but her heartbeat remained the same. She stayed perfectly calm and at ease. Few witches in her seat would remain so relaxed sitting next to me.

The usurpers, humans and witches together, persecuted my kind because they feared our power. If she were any other witch, she would have recognized me, turned around as soon as she’d entered, and put as much distance between us as possible in the hope that I wouldn’t track her down and kill her.

There were two possible explanations for her composure. Firstly, given her youthful age, she might not yet know about me, or secondly, she didn’t fear me because of who she was.

Possibly, of the two of us, I should be more concerned.

She radiated such energy that I’d rarely sensed before. Before she’d entered the Smoothie Shack, I’d sensed her massive aura moving closer. I’d been aware of her since she’d entered east London.

One day, if she lived long enough, she’d be a powerful woman. A witch of the highest order, I believed. But she hadn’t begun to tap into her potential. I hadn’t felt a presence like her since…, well, I’d never known a presence like hers.

However, after a few moments beside her, I recognized this young witch.

I mean, tell me why you’re here in east London? Do you live around here or are you visiting someone?” I was certain of the answer. It hadn’t taken me long to notice she looked and smelt like Serina Selby.

I’ve been traveling abroad and I’ve just arrived back in the UK and I’m on my way to visit my uncle.” She smiled, innocently. “What about you? You have an accent and I’m wondering if it’s from a place I visited. Where are you from?”

I’m from Romania.” We were doing this. Pretending we were ordinary mundane mortals having a casual chat and knew nothing about each other. I had a story I’d pull out for such chit chat. “My family came here when I was just a child, but I held on to an accent. My name is Varu, by the way, Varu Vasile. And welcome to The Smoothie Shack.”

At that moment, Chris placed the rich red drink before her. “Enjoy. It’s complementary,” he said and ignored me as if I wasn’t there.

If a mundane like Chris had any awareness of the powerful, wild, aura surrounding the witch, it was difficult to tell. Humans sometimes seemed to sense things, but most of the time they were such simple creatures. The way they called themselves rational always made me laugh. And I realized I was showing a smile to my new companion. Teeth retracted.

I’m Malka,” Malka smiled with a trace of red berry juice coloring her lips.

Malka: I knew it. This was probably not the time to tell her I knew her mother.

I remember when you were a babe in her arms. And now you’ve marched right up to me the same way humans do as if there is no danger at all in approaching an ancient hungry elder vampire.

Varu? Is that a Romanian name?” She lifted her drink to her lips.

Yes, short for Varujan.”

It wouldn’t do to have the heiress to the House of Selby mistake me for one of the Turkish mob. I wanted to make it quite clear who I was, and who I wasn’t.

One day she’d be far more powerful than her mother, if Malka lived that long. Although, I didn’t rate her chances of survival all that highly. Firstly, going around London with her aura on display, letting every vampire and demon for miles know what she was, it was like a teenager advertising a free-for-all party on social media. Her aura acted as a calling card to her adversaries.

And then there was the way she casually sauntered up to this particular apex predator as if she had a death wish. If I were any other vampire, she’d be facing her final minutes.

It’s a wonder the Turkish vampires hadn’t drained her powerful blood as soon as she’s stepped foot on Hackney’s pavements. It wasn’t just the Turks who were a threat to her, either.

As we spoke, vampires and witches were probably plotting the downfall of this young upstart at that very minute. If vampires weren’t the masters of concealed movement, I’d probably detect them gathering in the nearby streets, ready to grab Malka. I couldn’t let that happen. The Selbys would never forgive me and they were powerful allies.

I looked at Malka in wonder.

If sweet little Malka pulled her tribe back together and took control of her seventh-fucking-order potential the witches of Summerhouse Road might become the most the most powerful magical coven in all England.

I could escort you to Stoke Newington if you like. Make sure you get there safely.”

And suddenly I heard her little heartbeat flutter. Sweat broke through the surface of her skin, and I could smell her fear.

A seventh order witch of the House of Selby had entered a room that I occupied, she’d approached me and sat next to me, as calm as you like, no sign of stress. But when I suggested walking her home, she has a melt down as if she’d be safer on her own. Dear Dracula, she had no idea of the order of things in East London, or who her friends were, that was for sure.

I never said I was going to Stoke Newington.” She raised the glass to her lips and sipped.

Didn’t she? Didn’t she tell me that’s where her so-called uncle lived?


It was possible she was destined to some other place, but she wouldn’t be here on Kingsland High Road if she were going to any other Selby property.

No, you didn’t.” By the luck of the devil, I had a workaround for this corner I’d gotten myself into. “I’m the one going to Stoke Newington, I live that way. If you’re going in that direction I can escort you is all I meant. Of course, if you’re off to Hackney Marshes then we’ll say our goodbyes here.”

She relaxed slightly. “Do you know, oh hold on, let me check the address again.” She pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket. If I were alive, I’d bet my life she already had that address memorized, she merely carried the slip of paper like a comfort blanket. There was no surprise when she said, “Summerhouse Road, Stoke Newington.”

Of course, I knew it. But I feigned astonishment anyway. “No way. It can’t be. I reside in that street too. What are the chances of that?”

Her heartbeat raced again, and I knew I’d overdone the theatricals and said the wrong thing. Damn it. She thought I’d made it up. I should have told her my address first. From her point of view, it seemed suspicious that I suddenly declared I was going to exactly the same place as her.

There was no digging myself out of this. I didn’t know for certain who she referred to as her so-called uncle. She didn’t have an actual uncle, though I could guess who her mother chose as the surrogate all those years ago.

If I said a mass murderer had lived near me fifteen years ago, Malka would know I referred to Serina Selby. But it was hardly going to reassure her that I was someone safe to walk home with.

Sorry. Phone vibrated,” I explained, pulling out a mobile phone, I decided to go with a Plan B. “You know how they interrupt all the best plans.” I tapped on the screen, careful to angle it away from her.

Not really. I don’t have one.”

I jerked my head up. Even I live in the twenty-first century these days. “How do you survive?” I asked in amazement.

I get by. I’m just unlucky and always manage to break them, pretty much as soon as they come out the box. I’m hopeless with technology. But I’ve found plenty of other things my fingers are good for.” Her eyebrows raised a little and head angled to the side, ever so slightly.

Oh, my. If the young lady’s innuendo was an attempt at flirting, it widely missed its mark. I was too old and too dead to be turned on solely by thoughts of anything she could do with her fingers. Her blood on the other hand, she could get me hard with that.

The phone thing was news to me, I didn’t hang out with witches enough to know how their magic meshed with modern technology. Or perhaps Malka really did have bad luck.

I looked at my phone and focused on my own plan. “Something has come up and I am, in fact, destined in another direction.” I stood, making obvious my intention to leave. “I hope I’ll catch you another time when you’re in Hackney.”

You’re not going straight home?” The relief in her voice was severely misplaced. I could not let her travel through London alone.

No.” I’m going to be shadowing you all the way until you are safely on your land.But it is a straightforward walk from here. You can’t get lost. Straight up that way.” I pointed north. “Turn left at Church Street and then your road will be on the right. I live at the very far end by the cemetery. Feel free to call by any time.”

And with your own best interests and life prospects at heart, you should be begging me to stick close by.


Malka Selby

For some reason when he stood up to leave my eyes worked all the way down his body and I hummed my approval. Audibly hummed.

Hmm.” Yummy. “This smoothie tastes good, by the way. Good choice. Thanks.” I said trying to cover up the fact that I’d been purring. I didn’t know what had come over me. I wouldn’t mind him coming over me, truth be told.

My pleasure, Malka, I hope to see more of you again soon.”

I’d like that too. To see a lot more of him, of course.

I tried to drag my thoughts back from my mental art gallery of scantily clad men.

It’s not as if he could detect that my panties were much damper now than when I entered the bar.

He couldn’t possibly read my mind. And yet, I couldn’t help imagining he’d given me a knowing wink.

The temptation to turn and watch him leave proved irresistible. I might have glanced over my shoulder, no more than thrice, to check him out.

Nice arse.

There goes a man who should have a bright neon warning sign over his head, cute guy alert. He had everything, the charm, the looks, and even his own business. He was just about my age, easy on the eye, and easy to talk to.

He had a strange turn of phrase, he spoke like someone’s elderly grandparent, not a guy of my age. Perhaps that was a reflection of our different backgrounds, I was English, he originated from Romania. It didn’t make sense though, I was the one who’d been brought up among wealthy girls in a stuffy, old-fashioned boarding school, and him? I assume he’d grown up around here, on the ethnically diverse streets of twenty-first-century east London.

Living in the same street as my house, no less.

Go figure. As he would say, what are the chances?

If he really did live at the end of the road, I’d run into him again even if I had to arrange for it to happen—accidentally on purpose. And if he didn’t live there? If he was lying it was just as well I didn’t go off into the night with him.

The sort of strangers who talk to you in juice bars are surely going to be all right? I imagined bad boys hang out where there are drugs and alcohol, not wheat-grass and coconut milk. There was nothing about Varu that seemed dangerous apart from his all too good looks, his perfect complexion, and spiky black hair added to his charming confidence.

I could do with a friend or two like him.

Some hot, charming, young guys to show me the night-life and a good time. After all, we weren’t going to live forever and there were so many men and so little time.

At twenty-one, almost, I ought to get out more. Why not pick up a guy who hangs out at a place serving smoothies? At least he should have a healthy attitude toward life and women.

Much as Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome was a very pleasant and much-needed distraction to the issue of knife-wielding maniacs on the streets, death by stab wounds, and worse, I didn’t have the time to dwell on him or any of the earlier disconcerting incidents of the day. I had a house to visit and my inheritance to check up on.

The berry juice proved an excellent choice. The perfect pick-me-up energy boost and just what I needed before I made my way to the house of my early years. I remembered it though I hadn’t been back since the night my mother was arrested. I was curious to see how much had changed. I’d lived there until the age of seven when I had a brief spell in foster care before being sent to boarding school. Even though I didn’t know my father, and my mother was in prison, my family estate could afford to pay for a private, privileged education.

Cheers,” I mumbled and raised my glass in a silent toast to absent friends.

My future really hung in the balance.

Going back to the house was the first step in figuring things out.

A blood-red fruit drink and flirting with a handsome guy was exactly what I needed to put myself in a positive frame of mind in order to face my old home. He might not have noticed my attempt at flirting because I hadn’t much practice in the art of seduction.

When your mother’s a crazy mass-murderer who butchered a whole crowd of men, and you spend your formative teenage years tagged as the daughter of London’s Black Widow, it doesn’t do wonders for your dating profile.

As soon as I reached eighteen, I left school, glad to leave behind everyone who knew too much about my history. I’d been wary of getting too involved with anyone while traveling and working abroad where English wasn’t the first language. I’d had fun and experiences, and I’d seen some of the world, but I’d been guarded too.

Refreshed and ready to face whatever I would find at my old home, I drained the glass, left the cafe, and headed north.

The walk to Stoke Newington may have been a mile or more from Dalston Junction, I could have caught the bus, but I covered the ground quickly on foot, and barely noticed the journey as I was lost in my thoughts. Although it was early evening, and dark, London is a twenty-four-hour city and the streets were as busy as day.

It was reassuring to see so many big men in dark uniforms as I walked past the police station, especially after the earlier incident.

When I neared my destination, I became more aware of the people milling about. They seem to back away clearing the path before me as I approached. I worried that this was some figment of my delusional mind and I was going as crazy as my mother. Why would people notice me or move for me any more than they would pay attention to anyone else? It made no sense.

When I reached the junction with Stoke Newington Church Street where I was supposed to turn left and I was within a few hundred yards of my old home, a large figure emerged. I wanted to go west into Stoke Newington Church Street, but he blocked my way so I couldn’t change direction if I wasn’t going to crash into him.

Keep going,” he said in a low whisper. He turned to walk beside me keeping me heading north. “There’s a riot about breakout back there. It’s too dangerous to go that way. Come with me.”

There was a sincere urgency in his tone and I didn’t doubt him. Why would I? This was the same man who’d previously held me against a shop front and saved me from a possible beheading. I had no reason to fear him and some small reason to trust him.

I sensed that I wouldn’t be able to walk fast enough to walk around him or get away but if I slowed down, he would too.

We walked together quickly.

A sense of urgency rolled off him, so much so it tempted me to run.

We hastened our pace. After we’d covered no more than a couple of hundred feet, he clasped my arm. “We can cut through Abney Park.”

Having not lived in this area since the age of seven, I didn’t know where he was talking about. I’d looked at a map earlier but had no alternative routes committed to memory.

Just after we passed a parade of shops he steered me toward a park that was set back on our left. Impressive stone pillars supported tall black railings and the central gates were open.

This way.” He beckoned me to accompany him into the park.

Only a short stretch of grass was visible beyond the railings and after that, just a few trees stood out from the dense darkness. I hesitated. It wasn’t the sort of place to enter at night with a stranger. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

Don’t be afraid of what’s ahead,” a familiar voice with a slight European accent whispered in my right ear. “It’s what’s coming up behind you that you need to fear.”

Apart from the giant on my left I hadn’t realized anyone was as close to me. I certainly hadn’t heard Varu approaching. I heard Thor’s heavy footfall to one side, but Varu must have worn some of the latest silent-technology trainers. I had to wonder if I was going deaf in one ear. I could still hear traffic, cars and buses moving along the road, and the wind rustling through the trees.

You?” I said.

No. Not me. What’s being me is what you need to get away from.” He grinned as if he’d said something funny and not at all menacing. “We need to move quickly, Malka.” Varu sped up as we enter the gate walking slightly ahead of Thor and me.

A glance over my shoulder confirmed sure enough, there were many people following us. I almost stopped still in surprise, not expecting to see a bunch of emos getting closer to us. They wore big boots with sharp, shiny buckles, studded belts and shiny chains. Their clothing should have jingled as they moved, yet I hadn’t heard them at all. I had no idea how they’d gotten so close without detection and wondered about their footwear.

Suddenly a bright light shone ahead. When I glanced to my side, Varu was holding his phone in front of him, illuminating the path through the park.

Decisively, I chose to trust these two men and go along with their plan despite the fact that approaching dark woods accompanied by male strangers seemed recklessly crazy. Thor had saved me earlier, and I had no reason to distrust Varu.

I practically ran to keep up with the two tall men moving toward the dark forest ahead. What exactly are we running from?”

We entered through the open gates and walked quickly towards the woods.

Trouble,” Thor replied.

We didn’t reach the trees before trouble caught up and surrounded us.

We turned, and I gasped. The sudden appearance of the menacing goths seriously freaked me. I had no idea how these people had gotten all around us without me seeing or hearing them approach us. So freaked that I actually felt comforted by the fact that Varu and the Viking-like stranger were either side of me, even though that was a weird coincidence.

A woman moved close to Thor. “Fire, I’ve no quarrel with you, but you can’t keep her.”

Her gaze wandered over him like he was a delicious meal on her plate and she didn’t know which part to bite first. Was she a jilted or jealous girlfriend? I didn’t know the guy, but I felt a pang of jealousy.

Get off my hunky Viking and go find your own long haired love.

Another woman stepped forward. She sniffed the air in a dramatic fashion. “Don’t give her up peacefully. I don’t mind drinking virgin blood.” The goths shared a joke that I didn’t understand. Their humor felt sinister.


Who was she calling a virgin?

I may look young for almost twenty-one, but I’d lost the V-card a few years earlier. Now I did threesomes. Well, I’d done one. Okay, so strictly speaking there was no penetration when I had that threesome but the guys were all into oral and lots of it. That must count.

I had no idea what woman the goth girls were talking about. However, if they referred to me, then they misread the relationship between me and the redheaded stranger.

Ginger Thor took the tiniest step toward Goth girl number one. “You know I can’t let that happen. You’ll have to come and present your requests in the proper fashion.” That was a fucking weird thing to say; sounded a bit like this couple were into BDSM role play.

The other girl sneered, I didn’t blame her.

She was a lanky emo with long, greasy hair and a squashed face. “A race of people who’d stab us in the back while we sleep will not get that respect. You know that. Give her up and we’ll let you live.”

Let him live!

It was laughable. He was twice the size of those nutty women, but they had a backup army of ghostly faced goths behind them.

You wanna taste me?” Thor stepped toward them. “I’d never give up one of ours to one of you.”

What the fuck did that mean?

Varu stepped closer to me so that his arm rubbed against mine. “Look, Turk, I know you’re not acting for yourself. You’re going to put decades of peace in jeopardy, and for what?” I noticed the almost-permanent smile had disappeared from his face, making him seem much older and serious, for once.

This isn’t about us, Varujan.” Both women stepped closer.

Silver glinted in a flash of movement so swift that I could only attribute it to Thor after the fact.

Both women crumpled to the floor before I saw the blade, two blades. Beside me, Thor transformed into a terrifying rage. It dawned on me, he was the person with the knives.

I couldn’t bring myself to look directly at the bodies on the floor.

At the same time, Varu urged me to turn and run.

He didn’t need to tell me twice, but I didn’t move, terror paralyzed me. Varu had to pull me to get me started.

Run, Malka, to the left.” Varu dragged me away and, at last, my legs responded. We made toward the dark trees.

We ran together. I didn’t question it.

There were more goths, emos, punks or whatever they were standing behind the two who’d taken the first hit from the mad man’s anger and I didn’t want to see where that rage would be directed next. I think he’d moved toward them. I didn’t want to consider what would happen if he chased and caught us after we’d seen what he’d done. I didn’t want to be the witness he took down.

I’d been in London less than twenty-four hours and twice seen up close its reputation for knife crime.

Running forward, I went ahead of Varu. I heard no noise behind me, it was as if I was running on my own. I didn’t want to look back, it would slow me down, but I was aware Varu was on my heels because of the light he held and shone on the ground ahead of us so we could see where we were going. The path split in many directions and without hesitation, I went left as earlier instructed. “Run left,” Varu had said.

From further back, I heard more footsteps, so I just kept going as fast as possible.

Varu must have been super fit as he wasn’t even panting, there was no thud on the ground as his feet hit the floor but the light stayed steady as if he was out for an evening stroll.

You can stop now,” he said after a short distance. He didn’t even sound out of breath.

I didn’t want to stop, but I couldn’t keep sprinting like that and cramp and burning leg muscles left me no choice. I’d be dead if this were the zombie apocalypse, I’ve seen the Walking Dead and I know monsters just keep on going.

Worryingly, I heard footsteps gaining on us, and I had to know. I glanced behind, I made out a large figure at a distance but gaining on us. It could have meant danger. After witnessing the big guy who saved me from a knife attack earlier slicing into two women, I didn’t know what to expect next or who to trust.

Hiding seemed a good plan. I made the snap decision to veer off the path and take cover behind a tombstone. If Varu wouldn’t shine his light on me hopefully whatever trouble followed us would go right past. Varu wasn’t out of breath, he could keep running and lead the big guy away from me.

In the shifting shadows, I weaved between the toppled tombstones, stumbling over soft uneven ground littered with tree roots and pieces of broken gravestones. Of the memorials still standing, they were tightly packed side by side and back to back.

Foolish Varu kept his light on me and followed me. “I’m trying to hide,” I growled.

Stop. You can stop now. You’re safe,” he said, and I sensed him stopping as the light ceased bobbing about and didn’t follow me.

All before my feet was blackness, I took the final step. I stubbed my toe against something hard and fell on my hands and knees into the black ground. That’s right. Into the ground not on to it.

Around the exposed skin on my hands, the earth felt warm and doughy. It was like landing on a sponge cake that was cooling, fresh from the oven. The force of my landing pushed a hole straight through the slightly firm crust. Immediately, my hands and knees were both enveloped in the mulch mix. Naturally, I tried to push myself up but there was nothing to push against. I hadn’t reached right through the cake mix to the bottom of the tin. Instead, my arms and legs slowly sank deeper into the moist soft ground.

It turned out Varu wasn’t the gentlemen that I’d thought, instead of coming forward to help me out of the mushy earth he just watched me sinking into it before turning to the man who approached him. As I sank faster, it occurred to me that perhaps Varu didn’t actually see that I’d fallen down. He’d turned the torch away from my direction. He probably thought I was hiding. Whereas, in fact, I was falling,

The true extent of my predicament didn’t become clear to me until I was more than half buried in the earth. I could have called out; I should have called out, but my brain froze in fear and confusion.

Within seconds I’d slipped so deep into the earth that only my head rose above the surface. I saw the red-headed murderer approaching Varu. Varu looked at him perfectly calmly.

I kept falling.

Both of them oblivious to me.

My mouth filled with earth when I finally opened it too late to scream.

READ more: buy it here: https://books2read.com/u/md0MpX




Christmas In Wonderland by H J Perry

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Like many authors, I am taking part in this event, contributing a free fun short sexy story as my gift for you one day in December.

To read the stories by the many authors as they appear through December please visit the Rainbow Advent Calendar facebook Group.

And this is where the links to the stories will appear throughout the season: The Rainbow Advent Calendar 2018.

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MY STORY for the CALENDAR is a sweet and sexy story called Christmas in Wonderland.

Over the next few days, it will appear on all the major ebook stores priced at FREE but you can read it here first, or download it in any format from here at Smashwords, Kobo and other bookstores.

First, you can find info. about all of my books here on this blog site and on my website: HelenJPerry.com

If you enjoy this free short story and haven’t read any of my books before I suggest you check out the book 1 in my Sky High Scaffolders series, which is FREE at most bookstores. It is called: Our Secret Wedding.

If you read in Kindle Unlimited you might want to read my latest book: The Prince and the Bodyguard. It is my only book in KU and will only be there for 90 days.

Christmas in



H J Perry

Christmas in Wonderland © H J Perry 2018


Depending on how you looked at it, my first night in the caravan was either exciting and horny or cold and lonely. I prefer to put a positive spin on my situation whenever I can.

For a start, it was not, strictly, a caravan. The three-bedroomed, static old mobile home had been used by a constant turnover of temporary farm workers. The walls were badly scuffed, and the place smelled of damp. The indoor temperature seemed colder than outside. I preferred to calling it a caravan because I was focused on the adventure of living in it for two weeks, and it sounded a little bohemian.

And I’m the sort of person who likes to focus on the silver lining rather than the cloud.

The cloud? I was supposed to be there with my mate, Lee Sharples. At the very last minute, he couldn’t make it.  He had chicken pox. It explained why he was so tired lately. He’d put his lethargy down to end of term exhaustion and the pressure of school work. A new explanation emerged when the spots appeared on the final day of school.

Enough about Lee; back to my silver lining.

As I’d arrived at the Kentishford farm without Lee, I got free choice of choice of where to sleep in the mobile home allocated to us. One other lad who was due to arrive the next day was expected to stay as well. There was never any doubt I was going to choose the biggest bed in the only so-called double bedroom. It can’t have been more than four foot wide, the bed not the room, although that wasn’t much bigger. I  wouldn’t have fitted in the child-sized beds that they apparently classed as singles in the other two bedrooms.

Thankfully, Lee hadn’t come along, or we’d have had to do rock paper scissors for the least undesirable sleeping space.

Needless to say, at first, I couldn’t relax. Strange bed. Strange place. Strange noises outside.

I’m a teenager.

When I’m alone, of course, I have a sure way of passing the time and relaxing—a method that sends me to sleep with a smile on my face.

I wank.

A lot.

Call it a hobby of mine.

Something I like to do once, or twice, a day.

Masturbation and teenagers inevitably go together like mistletoe and holly, like Christmas pudding and cream, like turkey and cranberry sauce, like pigs in blankets.

As I live at home with my parents, the opportunity to watch porn in my bed with the volume up loud, and for an extended time without fear of being overheard is rare. Fortunately, I like reading erotica too. I imagine the guys to be exactly how I want them to be. Word porn makes no sound, except for the movement of my wrist and my heavy breathing.  

I hadn’t figured on watching porn while staying in a caravan with Lee. The risk of getting caught was too high. He’d have no problem with porn, he watches it too, but there’d be some explaining to do if he discovered my taste in viewing material because I wasn’t out to him or anyone else.

So I’d stocked up my book app with gay erotica for reading in bed. I thought it highly unlikely any of my mates would pick up my phone and work their way into my reading App.

When it comes to erotica, I love the whole lot: gay for you, straight to gay, jock and geek, and gay-first-time. Stories like what I hoped will happen to me one day. You know, stories I can relate to being a virgin and still looking forward to my first kiss.

At home, the opportunity never arises for extended sessions of self-pleasure in my own bed at night without a fear of being discovered, overheard or interrupted due to…, well, parents, of course.

I only had the tiny screen of my mobile phone available, but I had a paid-up subscription to a Hung Young Brit’s website and I fully intended to make the most of the night by getting off with some gay chav porn.


Franklin? Are you Franklin?”

Two men who strode toward me both appeared as well bundled as myself. We were all dressed in warm coats, hats, and gloves. All of our winter outfits were topped by the unmissable high-visibility Wonderland vests that all the staff wore. That was where the similarity ended between the two.

I nodded.

If it weren’t for the work vest, the taller of the two men would have blended into the countryside. He wore a mix of khaki green and bark brown with a splash of bog black. His trousers were tucked into sensible green wellington boots with thick socks bunching out over the top. “I’m here to take over from you now,” he said.

Thank you, Mary, Jesus, and Joseph. I’d just lived through the longest one hour and forty-five minutes of my life. Unfortunately, it was also the first hour and forty-five minutes in my new job, which didn’t bode well for the weeks ahead.

One of the things I learned about myself that morning was that I’m not cut out to be a car-park attendant or any role that involves directing traffic for that matter.

Since the start of the day, I’d been standing a few feet from the main gate of a farm in the middle of nowhere, aka deepest Kentfordshire. My sole task, waving cars onward toward the far end of the field where they’d disappear from view beyond a hedge and into the next area to park.

Not one driver stopped to wind down their window and ask a question. They all filed passed slowly, barely acknowledging me. Inside their vehicles, they looked warm, cozy, and excited about the day they were about to enjoy at Wonderland. I should have thought to bring ear buds for my phone, so I could have listened to something to pass the time.

My camouflaged replacement jumped into his new hand-waving role without further ado.

His companion and I both watched him for a few seconds.

I’ve been sent to collect you and take you to empty all the rubbish bins.”

Oh, great joy.” I didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic. It just slipped out that way. I was cold and bored, but they were poor excuses for rudeness.

If I wanted to be rude, it would be using a very different meaning of the word, at least with this guy.

My very first impression of him was that he had to be fun. There was nothing about him that would blend into the rural background. He’d stand out in any crowd.

For a start, he wore a red and white bobble hat with a polar bear and snowflake motif and coordinating scarf. His coat was a dazzling shade of bright blue. I could imagine my English teacher at school telling me it was sapphire blue. I’d say it was an I-demand-you-look-at-me bright blue.

And boy did I want to look at him.

What I could see of him was quite beautiful.

The blue coat made the most of his eyes. As for the red scarf, do I need to tell you about his full lips? His whole face looked kissable. Even the chin stubble looked soft and begged me to stoke it.

With. My. Face.

He shrugged. “I’ve heard this is your first day, so I’ve been asked to show you the ropes. By which I mean bags of waste. You’ll be doing it on your own next time.”

Can this day get any better?” The day had apparently taken a turn for the better as I was on a task with Mr. Beautiful Bobble Hat. But to him, it may have sounded as if I was voicing negative thoughts with the undertone of a lousy attitude. I would’ve tried kicking myself right then for letting my mouth run away with itself; however, I’d probably fall over and make a bigger fool of myself.

The conversation over, he turned away and began to walk in the direction of the Wonderland village.

If I’d have dawdled, I could have followed behind and checked out his rear. Instead, I hurried along to walk beside him.

I mean, after the mind and body-numbing torture of standing in that cold field, anything would be better. At least I’m moving about and doing something if I’m emptying smelly old trash.”

I don’t allocate the tasks, but they’ve all got to be done.” His mouth was set straight.

I’d like to see him smile. I’d like to be the one who made him laugh.

We walked alongside each other across the field. I didn’t take my eyes off him, but he never glanced at me—no surprise. I’d not done anything to make a good impression. I tried to sort through my mind for something sensible to say, but my brain was half frozen. The best I could come up with was, “Good to know you’re not in charge. Sorry if I came across a bit snarky. Did I mention that I’m cold?”

Mr. Beautiful Bobble Hat’s mouth curved upwards into a hint of a smile. “I know what it’s like standing out there in the cold. Let’s go get hot drinks before we tackle the rubbish.”

Just the idea of something hot and sweet passing my lips made me feel warm inside. “I’m starting to like you already.”

Good thing you do.  I’m Brett, by the way. And I’m sharing your mobile home.”


Oh,” I said aloud, while in my head thinking, oh, my god. Sleeping with wafer-thin caravan walls between bobble-hat-wearer, Beautiful Brett and I, how would that work out?

I arrived this morning, and Sharon let me in to dump my bags before sending me to find you for rubbish duty,” he continued.

Sharon was one half of the enterprising couple who ran their festive business on this farmland. She lived in the main farmhouse a couple of hundred yards from the temporary workers’ accommodation.

Brett and I were part of the temporary hired workforce. I was down to work every waking hour for two weeks right up until Christmas. Working all the hours and being on-call for any middle of the night emergencies required living on site.

I hope you don’t snore,” I said as we near the end of the staff-only slipway from the outside world into Wonderland.

It doesn’t wake me up.” He chuckled. “If I do, don’t worry, I sleep through it.”

Stop a minute.” I put my hand on his arm to bring him to a halt. “Just look at that.”

We were just a few yards from the Winter Wonderland village, and it looked magical.

We’d been walking down a gradual slope into a valley, and we were slightly elevated when were stepped forward from the boundary bushes that had surrounded us and obscured the wondrous view of the site. I hadn’t previously seen it from this vantage point.

It’s quite cool, isn’t it?” Brett said.

Twinkling lights of various colors hung in the trees all about, both near and far. Set in the heart of the Kentfordshire countryside, the aim was to let people imagine they’d been magically transported to the real Santa’s Village at the North Pole. I could see it.

Wonderland had all the things you associate with Christmas. People in Victorian costumes gathering around a Christmas tree three times a day to sing carols. An olde-worlde themed marketplace. Why the Victorian theme, I don’t know. Nostalgia, for sure as we wouldn’t want to return to those times, before the welfare state when poor people lived in workhouses, and if you couldn’t afford a doctor, you’d be left to die.

Already the smell of chestnuts roasting over an open fire wafted up to us on the breeze, it was simply delicious.

The Wonderland village was primarily a fancy arts and crafts market, with additional stalls selling food and drinks. There were also traditional fairground amusements such hoopla, hook-a-duck, and a fortune teller worked from an old-fashioned gypsy wagon mixed in between craft stalls.

The stalls weren’t just laid out like a modern market. Every booth and every building was clad to make it look old and magical.

Stallholders and many of the staff were dressed up in either Victorian costumes or Christmas themed outfits. They were supposed to be elves and other magic creatures or someone from a Dickensian Christmas.

From the marketplace, the public would catch a little train to the star attraction.

People came from far around to take their little ones to see Santa in the Wonderland Grotto. The mini narrow-gauge railway ran around the perimeter of the nearby lake taking the passengers to Santa’s grotto even though it was close enough to walk. The train journey added to the experience making it more of an extraordinary adventure. Of course, the driver was one of Santa’s elves.

Once they arrived at what appeared to be Santa’s home, the excitement continued. There followed a walk through a lengthy and beautifully decorated grotto. I hadn’t been inside, but I’d seen an online trailer advertising Wonderland.

This is my first day,” I told him. “I only arrived yesterday, well, last night, so I haven’t had a chance to see it all yet. It looks special you can see why people come here.”  

We stood together watching people milling about the picturesque scene for a minute or two in silence.

Franklin, you look frozen stiff. Come on; hot drinks await us.”


Elves staffed the self-service cafe. People paid elves. At the cash desk, we flashed our staff ID cards to elves, in case they were color-blind, and the high-vis vests weren’t bright enough. An elf discounted our drinks to free.

Our staff identity badges entitled us to free food and drink in the main catering marquee. It wasn’t entirely benevolent of our employer. The marque provided budget mass catering so that visitors would have plenty of money to spend at the commercial concessions. And while the bosses fed and watered us, it was easier to keep us at work as we had no reason to leave the farm to go shopping or do our own cooking.

I liked the fact that even though I was working for the minimum wage, I’d feel better off at the end of the two weeks because there was minimal opportunity for me to spend money unless I wanted to buy mince pie flavored fudge and have my palm read.

Why do you think we aren’t we dressed as elves?” I asked Brett as we made our way to an empty table in the far corner.

Do you want to dress up as an elf?”

No. Not really. They look good in Lord of the Rings.” I hadn’t given it any thought, and I didn’t know where I was going with my answer.

Legolas looked stunning.” A dreamy expression came over Brett’s face. No. It couldn’t have. I must have been projecting my own impure thoughts about elf version of Orlando.

I think you’d look good in an elf costume. It would go with your eyes.” And, I did kick myself.


Commenting on his eyes was the gayest thing I’d ever done in public with another bloke. It was the Orlando Bloom effect. Think of the gorgeous sexy actor and common sense leaves the building.

Without behaving as if I’d said something odd, which I had, he smiled.

I’d made him smile.

Well, thank you, Franklin. The mere fact we’re going on rubbish patrol should be enough of an explanation. We not employed to interact with the public, we’re backstage.”

That’s us, Brett and Frank, making it work behind the scenes.” I’d gotten a smile and felt sure I was close to getting a laugh. It was time I made sure he knew I wasn’t a prat. “And, by the way, I really am sorry if I sounded like a dick earlier.”

No worries. I know how you feel after standing in a cold field on your own for an hour. I’ve been there. Wait until you do it in the rain and the dark.”

And hour? It’s been more like two. Anyway, that’s history. This isn’t your first day here then?” The park had already been open a couple of weeks, since late November, but they increased the staff numbers as it got closer to Christmas. I couldn’t have come sooner due to school, so I was pleased that had this later influx of workers.

He shrugged, and his smile got broader. “That’s history. This is my first day this season, but it’s my fourth year. It ties in well with the Christmas break from Uni.”

So, Brett was older than me. I was supposed to start university next year, assuming my grades were good enough.

I’ve turned up and stayed in one of those mobile homes every year. I guess you’ve taken the big bedroom?” Brett asked. “I just dumped my bags in the lounge. Sharon was on my back wanting to get me out to work.”

Big bedroom. You’re having a laugh. You’ve seen inside those tin cans. There isn’t a big bedroom. There are various sizes of small rooms with tiny beds.

Fair point.” He eyed me. “And you are bigger than me.”

Easy on the big, comments. I’m not overweight, I’ve just got my winter padding to keep me warm, not that it’s working too well. And I’m big boned.”

He raised an arched eyebrow. Meanwhile, his gaze skated over my torso to linger briefly on my crotch.

Oh, my god. I wasn’t talking about that big bone. But his mind went there, and my mind followed.


Having begun with a bad start, the rest of the day’s work wasn’t too bad. We emptied the waste bins, we shifted boxes of who knows what from one end of the site to another, and we wheelbarrowed hardcore and smaller stones to fill a hole that was forming in the pathways. We found time to mop toilet too. It was quite okay. Fun, even. And no task was too awful.

Brett and I stuck together, and it was much better working as a team than standing around on my lonesome. Even the dullest task can be pleasurable if you have a mate to do it with. We had a laugh and frequent breaks for hot food and drinks.

After thinking about what he said about Legolas and other stuff, there were moments when I wondered if Brett were into blokes too, but I dismissed those thoughts as wishful thinking.

Then, there were some of our interactions that got me wondering, too. The way he’d look me up and down or wink—I wondered if he might be flirting with me, but that was definitely my imagination working overtime and producing too much to wish for.

At times I wondered how things might work out after work when we were alone in the caravan.

Things could get difficult.

Me lying in bed awake and restless and fantasizing about sleeping with Brett (or any other gorgeous man, for that matter) while Brett slept in a bed that was way too close to mine with just that slither of a wall between us.

As it turned out, by the time we finally entered the caravan that night I was too exhausted to function. After the long hours at a new job, followed by a late supper for residential staff held in the main farmhouse, I was ready to crash out. I didn’t wonder about how Brett was going to manage in one of those tiny beds partly because thinking about Brett in bed was not a good idea.

The caravan was freezing, literally, it might have been down at about two degrees, the same as the outdoors. There had been no heating on all day. The only heating in the place was the gas fire in the living area and an electric wall heater in the hall outside our bedrooms. We agreed to switch on both heaters for the night and leave our doors open in the hope that we didn’t die of hypothermia in our sleep.

In the future, we’d have to slope back to put the gas fire on an hour or two before we planned to come back for the night.

I put all the spare covers on my bed, and I didn’t wash, it was too cold. I just put on clean clothes (including sock) over my dirty body, got into bed, and was asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow.

Days panned out in much the same way as the first.

After that, we left the heating on in the caravan twenty-four seven.

The caravan warmed up, but it never got sweltering in there. It just maintained a survivable mild temperature. We were able to shower and function in the mornings, but we didn’t linger. Late night hot supper and an early breakfast were on offer at the farmhouse, and we started work early because there was plenty to do before the gates opened. In particular, everything had to be opened up and turned on. Things had to be checked for weather and animal disturbances in the night.

Brett and I stuck together every day as we worked well together as a team.

I hoped I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, but I had a horrible feeling I was going to throw myself at him at some point, and that would make things awkward. However, by the time we made it to the evening meal each night we were exhausted. Eating and cleaning up was about all we could manage. I was too tired to look at anything on my phone: no ebook App, no hardcore porn.


After eight days of twelve-hour days, I was more than happy to get a new set of work instructions for the day.

You two,” Sharon said to Brett and me as soon as we appeared at the farmhouse for our six thirty breakfast. “I want you to knock off at ten, take a break, catch up on some sleep and be back here for four.”

A day off?” I said in amazement.

Half a day,” she corrected. “Do laundry and get some rest. You look tired. You should make sure you take a nap as we’ll be starting earlier tomorrow. High winds are predicted for tonight, so we need to make doubly sure everything is secure so you might have to work a little later tonight to do that and be ready to rectify any damage first thing in the morning.”

So, not really time off at all.

We were on our way back to the caravan by ten with nothing to do. “What shall we do? Shall we see if we can get tickets to visit Santa?” I asked It didn’t need pointing out that the caravan was bleak and cold. It wasn’t the place anyone would want to hang out on a half-day off work.

What would you say you wanted for Christmas when you sat on his knee?” Brett nudged me.

I don’t know, the chance to lie in a warm, comfortable bed for a month.”

Well, you heard the lady, you know what we gotta do,” Brett replied.

We can’t do laundry; we did it yesterday.” With years of experience at this, Brett had introduced me to his plan for clean pants and socks when you work all hours.

Adjacent to the farmhouse, there was an outbuilding that functioned as a laundry. In addition to the machines, there were also places to hang clothes, but it was cold, damp and dusty in there so hanging cleanly washed laundry made no sense at all. We’d bundle our things into a washing machine before breakfast, and at the first opportunity between chores, we’d return to move the wet items into the driers.

No, not laundry.” Brett winked. “She told us to go to bed. Not quite for a month, so you can’t say Christmas is coming early.”

Oh, sweet Joseph of Arimathea, save me. I gulped. Christmas might not be coming early, but there was every danger I would if Brett mentioned US going to BED in the DAYTIME in one sentence, again.

I’d quite possibly started to walk funny in the last few days with my full balls as big badgers. The work rest balance hadn’t allowed any time for those normal functions.

We arrived at our mobile home, and Brett pulled out his key to unlock the door. “I’m not sure I can sleep, though. Not when it is only ten in the morning.”

What will we do in bed if we aren’t sleeping?” I tried to sound as normal as possible but I damn near ejaculated in my pants as I crossed the threshold to our tin-can home. My cock was as hard as space would allow and wedged into an uncomfortable position.

I’ve got a number of answers to that question, but I’ll go with the clean one,” Brett teased.

Please don’t.

I want to hear the dirty one.


I’ve got my iPad. We could watch a film together if you like. Or separate if you prefer. We’ve been together all day every day, so I’d understand if you’d like your own space.”

I don’t mind if we have no space between us at all. In fact, we could even fill in each other’s spaces, was something I didn’t say. “Watching a film together sounds good.”

Great. I thought in your bed; obviously two people don’t fit in mine.”

Frankly, I don’t think two grown men will fit in mine either; it’s big enough for one person.”

If I told anyone about this, it might sound strange that we were discussing watching a film in bed in the daytime instead of in the sitting area. It’s one of those things where you had to be there. We’d not sat in the living area at all. We hadn’t used the kitchen facilities either.

If you saw it, you’d understand.

I don’t mind getting close, Frank. We’ll share body heat and keep warm.”

This plan was all very well, but I could foresee embarrassment on the horizon. We weren’t Abbott and Costello or Laurel and Hardy. Sharing a bed in the daytime wasn’t going to end well, and I wondered how I’d gotten myself into this mess.

Brett went into his room to get into his PJs and fetch his iPad. Meanwhile, I stripped off and into my thermal sleepwear and slipped under the duvet. I did this super fast because my dick only subsided to half mast and was like to rise again at any moment.

We settled down to watch Shrek. Soon I completely relaxed. We laughed at the jokes and repeated the best lines. By the time the film was ending, I could barely keep my eyes open. Brett was also slumped and, so he set the alarm for later, and we went to sleep.

Three hours is precisely the wrong amount of sleep to have.

I must have been in deep when that alarm sounded. I was vaguely aware of Brett mentioning snooze, and I was out again. Five or ten minutes later the alarm was blaring again. And then Brett was shaking me awake. We really did have to get back out there. I had time to shower, which I needed to wake me up. Brett took one too. And while I he was in there, I absolutely didn’t imagine white foam being rubbed all over this glistening wet body. No, that image didn’t enter my mind.

The wind was getting up outside, though nowhere near storm level. Brett and I joined the crew, taking things down as a precaution and preparing for severe weather. It was the usual routine. Work. Evening meal at the farmhouse. And back to the caravan for bedtime.

Except, of course, I wasn’t tired.

I’m not really tired,” I said to Brett. This was his chance to suggest Shrek Two. And that would be how I seduced a man into my bed for the night, for the first time in my entire life, using an animated ogre.

What he actually said was, “You should try to get some sleep because if there is a storm, we might not be able to sleep later and tomorrow will be a long day.”


Once in bed and wide awake, I had a choice. I could plug in my earphones if I wanted to listen to the sound too, but I decided to go for the other option and tapped open the ebook App.

I was about ten or fifteen minutes into the book, and it was a slow burn none of us were aroused, not the characters nor me, when thought I heard a noise.

I put the book down, raised myself up from the pillow, and tilted my head to listen.

It was a soft, barely audible scraping sound. It could have been anything, inside or outside this flimsy building. At least I knew there was a smoke alarm in case of fire and a carbon monoxide detector in case of trouble with the gas fire. But I didn’t want trouble at all.

The soft scratching sounded like an animal, and I was concerned it might be a rodent gnawing away at the frail fabric of the building.

Quietly, I climbed out of bed to investigate. I didn’t want to alert the creature before checking it out. I was half convinced a small animal was making a nest in the spare bedroom that should have been Lee’s.  

I was chiefly concerned it might be the sound of trouble. A rodent sneaking in and or worse, a problem with the only two sources of heating. The gas fire worked well enough, but the electric heater in the hallways only ever got warm, never hot. It was like trying to warm up a kitchen using the heat from the light in the fridge.

The disturbance was so faint, it was barely audible.

Only when I stood right by my door did I discover the sound actually came from another direction, from Brett’s room. There was also a faint glow of light too.

I  froze. Not from cold. Froze with the fear of being caught hovering near his open bedroom door like a peeping Tom. I realized the source of the sound—Brett’s wrist action resulting in fiction against the sheets.

It wasn’t the frantic, fast-paced knock one out; I might have identified that sooner. This was the sound of slow sensual movements—a man who wasn’t in a hurry but taking his time. The faint glow of light was probably from his iPad. I guessed he was watching porn.

Sweet baby Moses in a basket. Basically, he’d passed over the chance of watching a film with me in my bed so he could watch other people fuck. Not that I’d invited him into my bed, not unless he was telepathic.

There was something wrong with him being alone right then instead of sharing it all with me. Not that I wanted to watch straight porn, I assumed he was straight. But I could have watched him. I could have given him a hand with things.

I understood the need for alone time. I hadn’t jerked off since my first night in the caravan.

And, of course, while all these random ridiculous thoughts raced through my mind, my dick pinged to attention again.



If I stood really still perhaps he wouldn’t call me again.

Franklin, is that your shadow I can see moving out in the hallway or do we have a ghost?”

Shit. I’d been so quiet. “Yep. Got up to go to the loo.” I placed a hand over my erection, it wouldn’t do for him to see that shadow or silhouette, and I stepped forward into the bathroom without looking in his direction. I didn’t want to see his dick. Lie. Well, obviously I did, but not like this.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t know I’d heard him, and we could carry on as usual.

I didn’t need the bathroom at all, and there was no pointing Percy at the porcelain in my current condition, so I ran the tap and splashed water about instead.

When I’d been in there too long, I placed my hand back over my hard rod and stepped out hoping Brett would be doing the decent thing, pretending to be asleep. He wasn’t. He was sitting on the end of his bed, apparently waiting for me.

Alright?” I said because it seemed like one of us had to say something.

Yeah. Good. I was just watching porn.”


Do you want to watch it with me?”

Is it Christmas already? “Yeah, alright.” I didn’t move. I just stood there with my hand on my dick, which wanted to dance.

Your bed?”

Yeah, alright.” Because I’d become a great conversationalist. I led the way, and we took up the same positions we were in earlier. Side by side in my bed.

I was just browsing porn hub,” he said. “You got any preferences?”

Don’t ask me that question. “Whatever, anything really. What were you watching?”

You probably should have asked me that before you invited me into your bed.”

I didn’t invite you. You invited yourself.”

Okay, as you asked, there was a guy getting a blow job.”

I’m good with blow jobs.”

Yeah, I can imagine.” Brett sounded playful as his elbow rolled into me.

I mean watching them. I’ve not had any experience actually giving them.”

No? Oh, you surprise me.” His tone had changed to something more serious. “I wasn’t sure, but I thought you might have been into guys.”

Oh, no. So not fair. You don’t get to ask me outright without telling me whether you are. Except you do. Because you just have. “Um…”

I don’t mind you-you want to watch girls together or guys together, or mixing them up. I should have told you before, certainly before I got in your bed, I’m bisexual.”


I thought you might be too. I can go if it’s a problem.”

No.” I put a hand on his thigh, over the top of the cover. It was his thigh. Much too think to be anything else. “It fine. I’m gay, but how could you tell?”

He turned to look straight at me. We were uncomfortably close, but I felt compelled to look him in the eye.

I couldn’t tell. I just hoped. After all, you’re cute, and we get on well. I guess my imagination ran away with me.”

He said I’m cute and I’ve been in his imaginings. I just stared at him.

Brett turned to face forward, and so I followed his gaze to his iPad. “Gay blow jobs it is then.”

I wasn’t sure I could do this.



When Brett tapped his iPad, it brought up whatever he’d been watching, which he’d put on pause. It was a blow job all right. Several blow jobs, in fact, all in the one room. The gay group scene was precisely the sort of thing I might have chosen to watch.

What?” he asked.

I’d never watched porn with someone else before and after all that had already gone before, I wasn’t sure how I’d survive it.

Would you like to do something else, instead?” Fuck in hell, Frank, what’s wrong with you?. That sounded so lame, so I decided to pull up my big boy panties and get the job done. “I was going to say can we kiss, but what I’m thinking is why watch it, when we could do it?”

There, done it.

Without looking at me, Brett put the iPad to sleep and then placed it on the bedside locker. After, he turned to me and put a hand on my cheek.

At this point, I was already in danger of dying from lack of oxygen. He didn’t help matters by sealing his lips against mine. Our mouths opened and our tongues automatically sought out each other. He had a taste and smell that was so divine I wanted to dive in and drink him.

The chill in the room seemed to drop away with the bed covers as our hands found each other.

His worked down from my face to my biceps my hands went to his chest.

I realized it might have seemed I was pushing him away when I wanted him so much closer.

Something inside of me marveled at how right this felt as if we were made for each other. Our personalities brought us together as ideal teammates at work and as friends. It was safe to say we’d become friends in the short time we’d known each other.

Chemistry brought us together in the bedroom.

A physical chemistry that I didn’t understand, but it was there. Everything about him pleased my senses. The sound of his voice when he spoke. The things he said that raised my spirits. I don’t need to mention how great he looked. And up close in the bedroom, I could add the taste of his mouth, the scent of his skin, and the feel of his body next to mine.

His arms wrapped around me and he pulled me down the bed a little before I realized that was his plan so that we were laying side by side. The kiss only briefly interrupted before his lips found mine again. Perhaps it was a predictable move that I didn’t know. I was so inexperienced, as in, zero experience. It crossed my mind I should tell him. And I dismissed the thought in favor of just seeing how things developed.

In this new position, we were able to get much closer. Our chests touched, and it took my breath away. Our arms wrapped around each other and I found my legs wanted to wrap around him too. My legs automatically knew where they wanted to go, but I didn’t let them. It seemed too forward, and too fast for me.

Perhaps I didn’t need to tell him I wasn’t ready to move through all the bases at great speed.

He hadn’t so much as tried to go any further than kissing, just as I’d mentioned.

Maybe I’d already told him about my inexperience in some subtle way because he seemed to understand me as if we were in tune and he knew me by intuition.

And kissing was enough to make my head and body feel ready to explode with fireworks and probably an orgasm too. My cock was so hard, and I just knew it was obscenely tenting my sleepwear. When it nudge against him, I gasped. That contact alone felt terrific. As we continued to kiss we somehow slithered closer together until our dicks rubbed against each other, and they were pushed up close together.

It took my breath away as I experienced an overload of sensory pleasure.

Franklin,” he whispered against my cheek when we broke our mouth to mouth contact. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Um, you are touching me.”

No, I mean, your skin, under your clothes.” Even though he was asking, his hands were already working their way up under my T-shirt.

Yeah, definitely,” I replied, and added, “Why don’t we just take everything off.”

So I know I’m a human bundle of contradictions. I was frightened of going too fast only because I’d never been there before, but at the same time there was a danger I was going to come in my pants if I didn’t get them off soon, and I really wanted to see him naked.

Brett must have felt the same way as he sat up instantly and pulled his top off and then continued to push down his PJ bottoms. I couldn’t move as my gaze was transfixed by the sight of so much manly skin up close to me and available to me to touch.

Jeeeeez,” I said before removing my sleepwear at the speed of light.

And then it was as if someone fired the starting pistol and we were off with no restraint.

The porn I’d watch had always been very dick, and ass-focused mixed with lots of kissing. What happened on that bed with Brett was something entirely different and awesome. It was like a carefully choreographed complicated dance, and yet we knew all the moves and were able to do them in time.

We locked together exploring each other’s bodies with our hands and mouths and tongues. Rolling about taking it in turns on top or below, to straddle each other.

Slowly and carefully he trailed his fingers over my chest, my stomach, moving closer to my dick, teasing but not quite reaching it before he diverted his attention to my hands. Our fingers weaved, he held my hands, and they gently parted once again if it were part of the dance. He pulled my fingers to his mouth. He licked them. He sucked them. I watched.

The sensation made my dick bounce and dribble.

I couldn’t figure out what the fuck was happening that finger sucking seemed so sensual. Were fingers major erogenous zones or was my mind playing tricks on me?

The thing was, we didn’t touch each other’s cocks, directly, they bounced eagerly between us like excited little puppies jumping up for attention. But we lavished that attention on the regions above each other’s belt area, and it felt more amazing than I ever would have imagined.

Is this okay for you?” Brett asked.

Fuck, yeah. Amazing.”

I wasn’t sure. You know. I’m just doing what I want to. What feels right.”

I wasn’t sure what the fuck he was talking about. But I didn’t care if he wanted to babble. I wasn’t up to meaningful conversations right then either. “Brett, can I suck your cock?” I could be direct when I the moment required it.

He nodded.

His expression and lack of words suggested he was struggling to hold it together too.

He got off me, and I shimmied into a better position, and finally wrapped a hand around his dick.

He groaned. “Oh god. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Me neither.

Believe it, Brett.” Were my final last words before losing my cocksucking virginity. The end of his dick was soaking wet with precum, and I licked it all up with a flat tongue before opening my mouth wide to take him.

I’d watched enough porn to know deep throat was a thing, but I didn’t know if I’d be able. His cock didn’t hit the back of my throat, but I was proud of what I achieved for a first attempt. I worked my mouth up and down, using my tongue as well and the moans and expletives coming from Brett suggested he like it as much as I did.

I certainly liked doing it.

No two ways about it, cock is wonderful. I like looking at them, and now I’d confirmed I loved giving blow jobs too.

Franklin,” his hands tightened on my head.

I liked the sound of my name coming from his mouth while my mouth tasted his sweet precum that flowed like a dripping tap.

You need to stop.”

I wasn’t so keen to hear that.

Or I’m going to come.”

Well, come then. That doesn’t sound bad. Having already established he was not telepathic, I reluctantly let his cock fall from my mouth. “Come. Now, Brett. Come in my mouth.”

Oh god, You have to let me do the same to you.”

He said it as if there was some chance I’d say no. It was a question so stupid I didn’t grace it with an answer before resuming my newest hobby of dick sucking. This time I lavished my attention on the head and around its sensitive, wrinkled ridge. I worked that area with my tongue and lips. When he came, I didn’t want it hitting the back of my throat and gone. I wanted to taste him.

His cock pumped into me great quantities, and the great force took me by surprise. It tasted hot and dirty and nice and I damn well almost came myself. I wasn’t expecting so much on the tip of my tongue. And it started to dribble out down my chin. Something told me Brett might like to see that so I straddled him, rubbing my throbbing dick against his as I did so.

Brett opened his eyes and looked at me with a smile.

You look pleased with yourself,” he said. “Like the cat that got the cream.”

I grinned and opened my mouth just a little so he could get a sense of just how much white cream I had.

There was a glint of kinky mischief in Brett’s eyes. “Come here and kiss me.” I bent forward and made sure his mouth opened before mine as we locked into an open-mouthed, cum-sharing kiss. Using his tongue he pushed his jizz back up into my mouth, but gravity kept drawing it back into his. It was the best kiss ever.

Come and give me yours, Franklin.” He licked his lips, and I knew he was eager for it. “Over my face, in my mouth, however you want. Come, sit over me.”

Did I say we were perfect together? He was perfectly made for me. I moved up his body until my knees were either side of his head and I was almost sitting on his chest. I tangled my dick so that he could lick the end, which he did with great enthusiasm. His strong hands held my arse and guided me forward.

He licked the length of my knob, dick tip to root and on to my balls. He gave them enthusiastic attention. Licking and sucking and touching. And his hands urged me a little further forward.

I moaned loudly when his tongue made intimate contact with my hole. You can read online guides about sex for gay men, but until you do it, with someone else, you have no fucking idea how great it is going to be. At least I didn’t. It was even better than I expect and I decided there, and then I was an ardent enthusiast of rimming, and I had to do it to him as soon as possible.

I couldn’t take it for long before I had to jerk away from him. “That’s too good,” I said.

Come if you want to,” he replied.

I couldn’t argue with his logic, so I relaxed the mental control that had been holding back. He wrapped one hand around my dick and started licking the end while wanking me. Meanwhile, he slipped a finger inside me at the rear. “Fuck, fuck. Yes. That’s good.” I wasn’t holding back I wanted him to know what I thought. Within seconds I was coating his tongue and face in white ribbons of my spunk.

Brett looked quite debauched and beautiful like that.

I sort of spent a while in orgasmic euphoria before I came to my senses and thought about getting off him and wiping him clean.

When I slipped off him, he jumped up and out of bed at surprising speed. I’ll be back he mumbled. And he went into the bathroom.

I wasn’t sure whether to pull my clothes on, so I snuggled down under the duvet. It seemed much colder now the bed was a man down. It was then that I noticed the noise outside. It had been quiet earlier when I thought I heard a rodent invader. Now, the wind was kicking up a storm. It made angry noises as it hit the trees.

After a few tense minutes, Brett returned with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on his face. He climbed into bed beside me and reached out to cuddle.

I was really scared I was going to mess up, but that was okay wasn’t it?”

It was better than okay. Why be scared?” Okay, I was scared, but I didn’t need to tell him that.

I’ve fancied the pants off you since we met so there was pressure there And I’ve never even kissed a guy before tonight. So I was worried about doing the wrong thing.”

Are you taking the piss?” I felt confused.

No. Why?” he looked confused.

How can you be a virgin? You’re twenty-one.”

He frowned. “I’m not a virgin, Frank, I’ve been with girls. Just never blokes.”

Oh. I see. Well, I was scared too, because I am a virgin. Well, does this count as sex?”

Brett kissed my forehead. “It was fucking awesome for me. We touched each other, and we both came. That counts as sex for me.”

What next?”

My eyes were shutting. It was far later than my usual sleep time since arriving at the farm.

Brett kissed me again. It was light and gentle. “Sleep now. And we’ll try to find time to do it again tomorrow.”

I couldn’t focus any longer. Sleep claimed me.


The next day, something felt different.

When the alarm sounded, it seemed unusually bright inside the caravan. I rushed straight to the window to check where the light was coming from.

Brett, was snow forecast?”

I don’t think so.”

Well, it snowed. It might not stay. And it’s not a thick layer. But it’s white snow and it’s drifted.”

A bit like me drifting into your bed. Look, Franklin, I need you to get back in bed with me while we can and tell me whether we’ve got time for snogging and stuff before we go to work.”

So last night wasn’t a one off for you, Brett?”

Snow doubt about it, I’ve never met anyone like you before in my life. We go together perfectly. I’m hoping we’ll get to know each other better and date as well.”

Do you want to go out with me?”

Yes, Franklin, thank you for asking. I do want to go out with you. From what I know of you, we’ll make terrific boyfriends.”


FYI, Hung Young Brit is a real person and maker of erotic films, and gay chav porn is a real British thing.  https://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcthree/article/a347bf9f-138c-4163-862f-4daab329ee37


This book was written for the 2018 Rainbow Advent Calendar 2018. Check it out and look for more free stories.

You can find info. about all of my books here on this blog site and on my website: HelenJPerry.com

If you enjoy this free short story and haven’t read any of my books before I suggest you check out the book 1 in my Sky High Scaffolders series, which is free at most bookstores. It is called: Our Secret Wedding.

If you read in Kindle Unlimited you might want to read my latest book: The Prince and the Bodyguard. It is the only book I have in KU and will only be there for 90 days.


The Prince and the Bodyguard a new book by H J Perry

It’s going to be exclusive to Amazon and available to borrow in Kindle Unlimited until late February. Expect it at all the other ebook stores around 28th February 2018.

Also, check back for some more from me in December, including a freebie and a $0.99 discount bargain.

Scroll down for an extract. meanwhile here’s the blurb:

Blurb: The Prince and the Bodyguard by H J Perry

“I like my men available now and gone in the morning.”

Currently in personal security, Oscar sees his future as forever closeted and single.
His love life can never be more than a series of hookups with men who want the same. No repercussions and no emotional involvement.
Definitely not a client.
But it’s lust at first sight when he meets the ultimate temptation, HRH Prince Tobias.
Oscar was supposed to be guarding that body not getting to know it better.
For a week.

“Seducing the bodyguard was easy. Moving on and forgetting about him was impossible.”

Toby can’t stop thinking about his first time with a man.
The instant attraction between him and the gorgeous bodyguard was impossible to ignore.
With his anything’s-possible attitude, Toby can only see why they should be dating.

In this sizzling high-heat romance two men reassess what they want in their futures.
Among other things this high-heat, low- angst book features:
* Two men in their thirties.
* A bisexual prince charming.
* A temporary secret boyfriends arrangement.
* The International Year for Indigenous Languages.
* A Cornish pasty.
* A very romantic happy ever after.
Approx 50,000 words.

Standalone novel, there is no cliffhanger, no cheating, and there is a happy ending.


600 scale Prince and the Bodyguard





Fast food, french fries, a fatty burger, along with a sugary soda. None of it constituted Oscar’s usual dietary routine. Feeding himself utter trash was an aberration for a man who usually paid such close attention to his body and what went into it.

Yet, he figured he needed a blow out like this, just now and again. It wasn’t so much a loss of self-control because he chose to drop his usual self-discipline.

Waiting for the arrival of a client, Oscar’s typical way of passing the time at the airport involved chilling in the overpriced concessions. In this impersonal space, he gathered his thoughts, shed his personal life, and assumed his role. He usually did it with something more… healthy… than junk food.

The dietary deviation would counterweight the working week ahead, which was due to commence when the client touched down. Oscar would be back on his game for his newest assignment as the bodyguard for a European prince. To Oscar, the prospect screamed babysitter to an upper-class twat.

Still, it came as easy money to pay the bills.

Raleigh Security and Vital Protection, RSVP, paid well. Despite what they showed in movies, assassins were rarely hired to take out clients and all their security detail, fortunately. Kidnappings and car chases didn’t occur often. Protection being a misnomer, there was very little actual guarding involved, ever.

Oscar imagined the week would involve shadowing a posh foreigner who would sound as if he had a toffee in his mouth, wore clothes that cost more than Oscar’s salary for a month, and attended brunch. The client’d be a man who ate caviar and tiny portions of food in the sort of restaurants that treated food as an art rather than something to eat and vital to survival.

Prince Tobias.

Even the name seemed dorky.

A number of the staff at Raleigh Security were surprised when Oscar declared he’d never heard of Prince Tobias.

The agency had given Oscar a small dossier of basic information about the prince including newspaper articles. Nothing really interesting. They expected the job to amount to nothing more than a week of being a rich dude’s escort.

Oscar had no idea why the client chose to travel on a scheduled airline with the masses, but the flight was due in soon.

Most security jobs were fairly easy jobs that Oscar could pretty much do with his eyes shut.

Well, not exactly shut, eyes very much had to stay open, but it didn’t get much more taxing than no sleeping on the job. Except when sleeping on the job was required, such as for this client. The prince required twenty-four-hour security. Around the clock. Someone who’d sleep with him.

Not sleep with, exactly, but be nearby in the same hotel.

Oscar always delighted in sleeping on the job, earning an excellent hourly rate for his bunse money while he lay between the sheets in a hotel room.

The client might carry the tag of His Royal Highness, but the threat was minimal, as evidenced by the fact that Raleigh Security assigned only one man to the task. Escorting the client from A to B would be Oscar’s main role. In addition, he’d appear intimidating and give peace of mind to someone who feared a shootout at the OK Corral might erupt at the drop of a hat.

Didn’t the Prince know he was coming to one of the safest countries in the world? Oscar wondered if His Royal Highness, the hoity-toity prince, had ever encountered someone who wasn’t posh, rich, and pasty pale white.

Flight 291 has arrived. Passengers are disembarking.”

The announcement came bang on time, exactly when Oscar expected it. Just as well, he’d eaten all the fast food he could stomach. He picked up his tray, carried it over to the trash, and dumped it. He straightened up his suit. Whatever the client expected, and even without a real threat, Oscar intended to be as professional as always.

While wondering if the client looked anything like he did in the grainy black and white newspaper photographs, Oscar made his way down to the arrivals terminus.

Oscar never really cared for media gossip, and people who were famous just because of the womb they crawled out of. He certainly wasn’t interested in following stories about celebrity families when he’d spent much of his life steering clear of his own. Not steering totally clear, exactly, but keeping them at arms length.



To Toby, a private jet seemed excessive to carry just him and his assistant. It didn’t seem right to be extravagant in the mode of transport, given the all the charity work he did. He’d argued to keep the trip on the down low and on budget. Being royalty wasn’t just a matter of birth and family, as he was frequently reminded, it was a business.

We have a bodyguard waiting for you at the terminal, Tobias.” Teresa didn’t look at him as she spoke but ran a finger down her page of notes, the glow of the screen reflecting on her glasses. “Listen to him. This isn’t your home. There’s practically war on the streets here with frequent stabbings, vehicles used as weapons, and people murdered by toxic poisons. There are terrorists using things we’ve never thought of as weapons and there are even shootings. I don’t need to run through it all again. Just don’t be complacent.”

Toby shook his head. “It’s one of the safest countries in the world and the people are just people, like they are back home, but I take heed of your warning, yet again, oh wise one.”

I am the greatest foundation of wisdom and don’t you forget it,” she joked.


He’d had to argue people are the same the world over all too often. He found it hard to believe how much some of his fellow countrymen held such strong fears about foreigners in other parts of Europe or just about anyone different to themselves.

As a photogenic prince, he had cameras focused on him much of the time. He’d gotten used to it, but it didn’t mean he liked it. People judged him based on his title, his family, and his looks rather than who he really was. And he wasn’t free to make mistakes in private and forget them. This wasn’t going to change, but he intended to work it to his advantage.

The fame and celebrity that came with being a prince was a double-edged sword. Now in his thirties, Toby had learned to wield the sword for good rather than evil. He embraced and treasured his charitable work. He used this undeserved fame to shine a spotlight on issues by showing up in troubled places. Doing this and posing for cameras raised awareness and often money to combat problems such as homelessness, diseases, or disaster recovery.

If he hinted at a relationship with some local starlet, he’d get even more of the media spinning.

Teresa huffed and looked up from the screen. She stared past him and toward the little porthole window.

Toby followed her gaze as the plane came to a halt.

People like us they may be, they eat, breathe, and sleep, but it’s not like being back home. Now, you don’t have anything scheduled for the rest of the day. I have meetings, unfortunately. Tomorrow we’ll be making a whole host of first appearances. For today, your bodyguard will show you to your hotel and help you get settled in.”

Toby sighed. “Do I really need a bodyguard? I’m not even all that famous, I doubt anyone will recognize me.” It was no big deal for a prince to be among the common people in Europe. Only the monarchs and the most senior of politicians had continuous security.

They might not recognize you. That’s not the issue here. We’re stopping over in London, it’s a dangerous place. You’ve seen the films like Fast and Furious and The Bourne Ultimatum.”

They’re not real, they’re action films. You might as well mention American Werewolf in London and Shaun of the Dead, Teresa.” At times like this, Toby found his assistant frustrating. She meant well, but she seemed to suffer from travel-phobia, if that was a thing. She read the worst events in the news and wrote off whole countries as Thunderdome. “It’ll be fine. You should go out and see the sights too.”

She shook her head. “Tobias, we’re both tired and I’ve got work to do. And then we’ve still got the long journey to Cornwall to look forward to.” She rolled her eyes. Internal travel to the far-flung western region was set to take longer than getting to England in the first place. “Let the security do his job and look after you. And I’ll do my job, which unfortunately means going straight to a meeting from the airport, with my suitcase.”

Expanding your horizons is never a bad thing. Do you want me to take your suitcase?”

No.” She shook her head and smiled. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Unlike his sheltered assistant, Tobias intended to enter the country with an open heart and an open mind.

While the prince hardly hated flying, he didn’t exactly love it either. When the seatbelt light turned off, Toby stood up along with everyone else. He pulled down his bag from the overhead compartment, and Teresa’s, which was packed alongside. As an experienced traveler, he’d practiced packing light. “If there’s nothing else to do today. I’m going to explore and see where the day takes me.”

This is why your father insisted on a bodyguard. You’re so anarchic.”

He placed her bag on the seat he’d vacated, knowing from experience she’d be the last one off the plane after she’d reorganized her hand luggage. He didn’t need to wait for her as they were both meeting separate people in the airport and she had to go off to a meeting before checking into the hotel.

Consider it a contribution to the local economy.”

He walked off the plane, surrounded by people too involved in their own traveling stresses to recognize him.

Once through all the passport checking and bag collecting ordeal, Toby was finally on the free side of the airport. He wanted a drink, if nothing else. No better way to get to know a new place than in a local bar.

First, though, he had to kowtow to the wishes of the CEO of The Royal Family PLC, whether he liked it or not, and find that bodyguard.

After having an issue with the first security company they’d tried to make arrangements with, the actual security thing had been organized at the last minute, right before the plane took off, so Toby didn’t know what the guy looked like, or his name, or even if he was a man. In conversation with Teresa, they’d both assumed the bodyguard would be male, but Toby had certainly met female security guards before.

Toby only knew the company name; he remembered that because it didn’t sound real. RSVP. How could it be real? Private protection security companies weren’t known for their sense of humor.

Toby scanned the waiting room outside the gate.

There, some distance away, stood a handsome man in a dark suit. He had chiseled features and neat hair. His appearance spoke of a man who took control and liked organization. Yet, at the moment, as his gaze skated around the room, he appeared vulnerable and a little lost.

He was so striking, even beautiful, Toby found it difficult to drag his eyes away in search of his security.

There was no obvious representative from RSVP. No one holding up a card with this name, HRH Tobias, thank god.

In the absence of anyone else to distract him, Toby found his feet taking him closer and closer to the handsome stranger in the suit. Something about the man said he wasn’t a businessman, but by god, he wore the suit well.

For a moment, he let his daydreams run wild and thought about propositioning the man. About watching him remove that suit in a nearby hotel. A man could dream though, couldn’t he? Maybe something for his private times in his bedroom.

Toby had to get a grip and reign in his freely roaming imagination.

Toby wasn’t naïve. He couldn’t ask his, as yet, unidentified security to wait outside while he had a quickie with a stranger in the closest hotel.

Even if this was England, well-known for it’s libertarian support for gay rights, bodyguards had an incredible love of the type of manliness that included a strong dose of homophobia.

Step by step, Tobias moved closer to the man, until he stood right in front of him and had no choice but to speak.



This was not the time for cruising. Nevertheless, Oscar’s eyes did their own thing.

He’d spotted The Guy straight away. A gorgeous man, with Mediterranean features, his stylish but casual clothes said Italy. And then there were his limbs. Casually dressed in a collared shirt with short sleeves, The Guy’s incredibly toned forearms, and how they led up to more delicious meat, caught Oscar’s attention immediately.

If ever he’d like to meet a man who looked like The Guy it would be by chance in a certain type of bar. But not here. Not in an airport. Not when Oscar waited on a client.

The procession flooded outward. Woman. Old man. Child. He knew Tobias wasn’t geriatric or too young. He was an adult, and they were much the same age.

Oscar’s attention flitted back to The Guy with the arms and hungry desire in his eyes. Eyes that raked up and down Oscar like he was a piece of meat and took Oscar’s breath away.

And honestly, at a different time and in a different place he’d have welcomed such attention. Subtle changes in his body language would have signaled his interest and invited The Guy over.

Now, Oscar tried to avoid eye contact.

In most aspects of his life, Oscar pushed himself to exceed limits and expectations. He was a sportsman and highly competitive, but this one thing easily defeated him. He couldn’t handle approaches from men in public. It would have been easier if he’d been either straight or out, but he wasn’t one or the other. Deeply in the closet, gaining the lustful attention of men in public places made Oscar very uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to react.

His mouth went dry.

The Guy made his way toward him though, he wasn’t be put off by Oscar looking away.

When the stranger came to a halt, standing right in front of him, Oscar had no choice but to look the man in the eye. Those beautiful come-to-bed eyes. Such expressive eyes that sparkled with warm, friendly humor.

“Hi.” The Guy’s voice wrapped around Oscar’s head like a warm scarf in winter. “I’m supposed to meet someone here. Are you, by any chance, with RSVP?”

Prepared to say no and back away, the words caught Oscar by surprise. He coughed to clear his throat. He’d obviously read the situation all wrong. The man was so damned attractive it had distracted and disarmed Oscar: not good in his line of work.

“Oh um… yes. Prince Tobias?” He must’ve seemed like a fool who’d forgotten his own name and why he was there.

He hadn’t been toppled by a dude’s looks in a very, very long time. And now, to discover it was the client who had this effect on him, it shook Oscar.

A hand shot out. “A pleasure to meet you,” said the prince, that accent of his as charming as anything else about him. Perfect English diction with a hint of southern European vowels. It didn’t sound like there was any candy or food of any kind stuck in his mouth.

Oscar never thought of himself a man who’d be disarmed by a sexy accent, but this prince? His voice was like sweet frosting on a hard-bodied cake.

With ease, Oscar fell into his familiar professional role. “Pleased to meet you, sir.” Oscar shook the warm hand, noticing the soft skin that hadn’t done a day’s hard labor, and he did not imagine the silky soft skin on other parts of the prince’s body.

Moisturized hands notwithstanding, Tobias didn’t look like someone who needed a bodyguard. He didn’t project privilege, wealth, and royalty. He carried himself like a normal guy, albeit one with confidence. As he was tall, broad, and fit, he looked as if he’d be able to handle himself in a fight and maintain a pace with Oscar’s extreme fitness regime.

Mentally, Oscar slapped himself.

It didn’t do to salivate over a handsome client, or imagine himself wrestling with the same client.

Wrestling in nothing more than underwear. Oh, no.

“I’m Tobias. Please call me Toby,” the prince said. Snapping Oscar’s thoughts back from a place he never wanted them to go. This guy made the name Toby seem sexy, something that Oscar had previously considered impossible. “And you are?”

“Prince, Oscar Prince.” He’d always thought saying it like that made him sound cool like Bond, James Bond. Usually, though, he only said it like that when he was trying to charm a guy into his bed for the night.

“Prince? That’s your name?” The prince laughed.

Oscar gritted his teeth. “Yes. It’s a pretty common surname here.”

“I’m sure. I never expected to meet another prince in the airport. Did they pick you out for this job because of your name? Like, do RSVP have a sense of humor?”

“Um, yeah.” Oscar forced a laugh. “So, if my briefing is correct, I’m to look after you for the next week. A few days in London and then down to Cornwall?”

Tobias nodded. “Isn’t it across to Cornwall?”

Technically it is, but we always say up to London, no matter if you’re going down.” Shit. Should not talk about going down with this guy.

No going down, got it.” The prince winked.

Oscar blinked. He couldn’t react. As a professional he had to ignore the prince’s sexual banter.

You shouldn’t really need security. Especially not in Cornwall. But I shouldn’t talk myself out of a job either. So if you are ready I have a car outside.”

“Lead the way.”

They set off walking to the short stay VIP car park immediately outside arrivals.

Having a bodyguard wasn’t my idea, no offense intended. It’s the CEO back at the family business. He’s afraid I’ll wander into a dark alley and be shot by rednecks, hence hiring your company.”

Oscar must’ve looked blank because Tobias, Toby, instantly explained. “Royalty is the family business, and dear old Dad is hands-on as the CEO. We call him King for that reason.”

Relaxing a little more, Oscar smiled. A chatty client with a sense of humor seemed a huge improvement on how Oscar had imagined the prince. They just might get along well for the week. “Dark alley rednecks.” He scratched his head. “I think you’re mixing up your stereotypes and your countries.”

“Those were his words, not mine. I’m more than happy to learn the difference.” He was friendly. Cordial. And attempting to break down barriers.

Yet, being on the job for Oscar meant stopping at professional conduct, not getting overly friendly. “Come along. Apparently, being your bodyguard also means I’m your chauffeur today.”

Oscar didn’t have to follow the client to the toilet or anything crazy, but his job was to stick close, to drive him around while they were in London, and sleep in an off room in his hotel suite.

The prince followed his lead without complaint.

When Oscar opened the driver’s door of the security firm’s standard issue, black town car Toby approached the passenger side.

“What’s wrong?”

The prince must have picked up on Oscar’s surprise.

“It’s typical for clients to take the back seat. That’s all.”

“You’re a bodyguard, not a chauffeur. Maybe you can guard my body better if I sit here next to you.”

Oscar could do without references to the prince’s body; the client may have been flirting, Oscar wasn’t sure, but he could do without flirting too.

“So, can I call you Oscar? Or is it Mr. Prince?”

“Oscar is fine,” he replied without emotion.

“Right. I like informal too. It’s definitely Toby, not so much Tobias, and certainly not Your Royal Highness Prince of Europe.” He chuckled. “So, Oscar, does a fine strapping chap like yourself have a lady? Kids at home? I noticed there’s no ring on your fingers.”

Jump right in with personal questions why don’t you?

Oscar couldn’t help but notice the way the royal looked at him, like he was some sort of curiosity.

“Company policy forbids personal jewelry.”

“So if a nice lady tries to seduce you on the job are you open to offers or already taken?”

“Fraternization with the clients is also forbidden.”

“Wow.” The prince dragged out the vowel, sounding genuinely surprised. “That sounds strict. It’s not the army.”

“It’s basic professionalism, sir.” This man was relentless. Had he no shame or reservations about trying to poke through Oscar’s personal life?

“Sorry, if you don’t want to talk. Back where I’m from, people chat and joke about these things. I don’t mean to offend you.” Tobias held his hands up as a sign of submission. “I don’t want to overstep any boundaries. I’m single, myself, by the way. No kids either.”

Why had he said that? Oscar couldn’t figure it. Was this casual conversation about families and home life or was this goddamn client letting him know he was single for a reason? Was he interested?

“Right. You probably won’t want me keeping all the good looking ladies at too great a distance then, when I’m guarding your body.”

The prince laughed. An easy, full, hearty laugh.

The laughter was infectious. Oscar smiled too. He couldn’t help it. He enjoyed playful, funny people. Someone who made him laugh would be the type of boyfriend he would have if he could have boyfriends.

I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you seem to speak perfect English with hardly any accent.”

Privileged education. I actually studied here in England for a few years,” Tobias replied. “Come on now. You and I both know that there’s no threat to my well-being. You’re a security blanket. Basically, you’re here to make my team feel better about my safety while I’m here. But I don’t feel uncomfortable. It’s the other people in the royalty business back home who are worried.”

This made Oscar’s smile wider. He could totally picture himself as the prince’s blanket, the thought was already warming him up in ways it shouldn’t. There were ways he wanted to make Tobias feel better, but damn if any of them were actually legal to do to someone without their permission.

“I have to be alert for any threats to your well-being.” Mostly, the biggest threat to the prince’s well-being right now seemed to be Oscar himself.

Find it at Amazon:

Dot COM: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KQFVYK3

Dot CO UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07KQFVYK3

And from 1 December I will be joining many other authors to contribute to a special advent calendar of FREE LGBT short stories. A treat or two for every day of December.

rainbow calendar thumbnail_RACbanner18

Gay Construction Workers: A Short Story

ZK Carpentry: “The best hand for your wood.”

With his special skill set, as a porn star and a carpenter, Zack wasn’t with grumpy Mike the plumber for money, or for his none existent charisma.

It must have been love. What was Mike’s appeal? 

Construction workers shirtless Depositphotos_45796011_original.jpg

Amateur Site Work © H J Perry 2018 reedited from earlier version

Amateur Porn Site © H J Perry 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

The author has asserted his/her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.

This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature readers.

This short story was previously published in a collection.

This is the story of the making of the porn film that is watched by Connor in Our Secret Christmas by H J Perry, the second book in the Sky High Scaffolders series.

Helen’s website is HelenJPerry.com for more information about her books.

Or sign up for notifications from Bookbub each time H J Perry publishes a new book 

Site Work – H J Perry


Do you know what’s happening in Plot 23. Fuck all, that’s what. I want a plumber there now.”

At work, Trevor Clarke thought he knew Mike better than most of the other tradesmen. They saw each other almost every day, Monday to Friday, and had regular run-ins with robust language befitting the relationship.

As the site foreman, Trevor’s job would have been easy if all the trades pulled together and did their bit on time. The workmen, however, acted as if their objective was not to create a housing estate for the developer at a rate of ten new houses a month.

Mike was the chief plumber here; he was head plumber at the previous site Trevor managed too. And before that, Mike was a plumber on a site where Trevor utilized the skills of his trade.

A carpenter by background, Trevor’s very first run-in with Mike must have been more than a decade earlier. Trevor could still recall it to this day. Mike cursing, swearing, and demanding cash. He claimed that due to a lack of care when laying the floorboards Trevor had damaged the first-fix, plumbing pipework.

“You tell me, why else would fucking water suddenly start pouring through the fucking ceiling?” Mike pointed to the offending leak.

Trevor shrugged. There was no arguing with the facts. A nail that he’d hammered had been there for all to see.

“I fitted that carcass, filled it, and tested it two fucking weeks ago. It was as tight as your wallet then. You’re gonna have to let the moths out and pay me to fix the damage.”

Big deal, Trevor nailed a pipe, albeit by accident—these things happened in construction.

Ten years on and Trevor didn’t see so many incidents of accidental damage.

Older and wiser now, Trevor knew nailed pipes weren’t always what they seemed. Plumbers damn well damaged the pipework themselves—some of the time. They’d do it as an excuse to cover up their own shoddy work, or to earn a bit extra if they could get away with it.

The foreman needed expertise in forensics to get to the bottom of some of the pranks and scams run on building sites.  

Damn plumbers. They admitted to nothing and always blamed someone else.

As far as Trevor was concerned if carpenters were called Chippies and electricians were called Sparks then plumbers should be called Drips. But that insult never caught on in a workplace where there was too much testosterone and men armed with dangerous power tools.

Trevor traipsed around the site looking for Mike because there were no excuses for lack of action in plot 23. The completion of the plumbing carcass had to happen that day, no matter what, for the electricians to start on time.

At that moment, the first fixer was missing in action. The plumbers installing sanitary ware in plots 35 and 38 all shrugged their shoulders with a couldn’t care less attitude because they didn’t answer to the site foreman. And they weren’t first fixers. And, no, they didn’t know where Mike was.

It was a goddamn laborer who reported seeing Mike going into the cul-de-sac, heading toward plot 17.

Nothing was going on in plot 17; Mike had no reason to be there. Despite that fact, he sometimes joked he was buying it. Most of the guys had 17 down as one of their top five, if they had to choose a house and live on this estate. All the guys on the site, those who’d actually looked at the plan of the estate, knew it was one of the most desirable plots.

Due to a lack of housing in the UK, the government had announced plans to build a quarter of a million more homes within the next few years. It seemed like half of those were being built right here, on these very fields in central England.

When potential home buyers turned up, they were presented with fields, trees, and rural country views. The sprawling estate of tightly packed houses with small gardens and insufficient parking space, as it would be in a few years hence, was not presented. There were so many houses already approved here; they’d be building this estate for years into the future.

Just here and there around the edge of the territory, corner plots were the exception. Desirable, tucked away, and secluded, plot 17 was one of them. It was flanked on two sides by a small patch of wild scrub land that was protected from development. The eventual owner of plot 17 would enjoy twice the land space of most other properties. And an unusual degree of quiet privacy.

It had already sold.

As soon as marketing began, it went off plan before the footings were in the ground. The future owner had already put their deposit down and selected their choice of kitchen and bathroom fitments.

The sales team liaised with people buying properties. If purchasers paid their deposit before the house was complete, they could choose kitchen and bathroom fixtures and fittings, as well as the floor finish and the wall colors.

When Christina from sales had passed on the buyer choices to Trevor, she mentioned this house had been snapped up by a gay couple.

In fact, the whole estate was a popular investment for the pink pound. This amused Trevor greatly when he thought about the fact that plot 43 was destined as the future home of a local notorious homophobe, Liam Bottomley. The pompous bigot stood as an independent candidate in the last general election, taking the opportunity to air his foul, ignorant views. He got slated and gained less than two hundred votes. Still, almost two hundred too many.

Bottomley’s house didn’t have a roof on it yet.

Trevor only spent time with new homeowners if they had problems that needed rectifying and he hoped he’d never have to deal with Bottomley personally.

Trevor marched down to plot 17 and when he reached it, the door was open. Trevor stepped inside.

He could hear voices coming from the kitchen before he saw the men, Mike standing with a stranger.

Trevor didn’t recognize the other man, but guessed he was another plumber. There were loads of them on site; one plumber tended to look much the same as another, and Trevor usually dealt with Mike.

“We’ve an issue, Mike.”

Mike and the other man halted their conversation and looked at Trevor as if he were intruding.

“The first fix at plot 23, it’s gotta be finished today and there’s nothing going on there.” Trevor ignored the other guy.

“What time is it, Trevor?”

Trevor looked at his watch. “Almost nine fifteen.”

“That’s right, not even ten o’clock in the morning. We’ve got all day to finish. I know what I’m doing so you don’t need to be on my case. I’m well aware of the schedule.”

“This is Zack, by the way.” Mike turned toward the stranger. “And you can guess this is Trevor.”

The stranger stepped forward and held out a hand. This would have been perfectly normal if they were meeting in the pub or some other social setting, but Trevor wasn’t accustomed to introductions and shaking hands with every workman who turned up on site. He paid attention to Zack’s handsome face while shaking his hand.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Trevor. It’s good to meet you, at last. Put a face to the name.” Zack had charming dimples when he smiled and perfect white teeth. “I’ve just stopped by to take another look at our new home.”

Trevor looked from Zack to Mike in confusion. “I don’t get the joke. Every plumber on site claims this is his new home.”

Mike and Zack looked back at him with not a sign of laughter.

“No joke. I’m a carpenter, not a plumber,” said Zack. “And I’m not working on this site. I just stopped by on my way to work.”

There was something familiar about his brown eyes, clear complexion, and the dimples in his cheeks as he smiled. A handsome man, probably in his mid-to-late twenties. The kind of guy Trevor dreamed about and drooled over. The kind of guy he’d beat off to when watching—


He was familiar but not as Zack.

Oh my God.

“They can claim what they like about this house. Crave it, and lust over it if they want to, but at the end of the day, it’s ours. We expect to move here in about eight weeks.” Mike moved closer to Zack and placed an arm across his shoulder.


Zack and Mike?

Trevor’s jaw dropped as he looked at the couple in confusion. His gaze settling for too long  on the possessive arm around the carpenter’s shoulder. There could be no mistaking the nature of their relationship.

Zack was a sex God. What could he possibly see in Mike?

In contrast, Mike was more like a monster. He didn’t even have charisma. When he set off to work Mike must have left every endearing aspect of his personality in a box at home so it wouldn’t get lost.

It there was anything good to say about Mike, Trevor couldn’t think of it.

Sure, a fast, first-fix plumber like Mike made excellent bank. In that respect, Mike was a catch for a gold-digger with an eye on the money and a nice house.

But with his special skill set, as a porn star and a carpenter, Zack wouldn’t need Mike for money.

Then what?

Perhaps Mike had a mega donkey dong.

“It’s a nice place and you won’t have far to travel to work.”

Imagine that.


They were close in age, mid-thirties, but Zack looked so much younger. Mike would tease him about the suntan cream and sun hats, but they paid off. Going by appearance alone, Zack appeared altogether out of Mike’s league, and they both knew it. No one ever guessed they were a couple, Zack and Mike. It didn’t bother Mike, who considered himself lucky.

“We’re married, Trevor. Zack’s my husband, so you don’t need to wonder about it. When we live here, together in this house, I daresay word will get around.”

Trevor looked more than a little surprised, with his mouth open and eyes ping-ponging between the husbands’ faces. “Okay, when did you get married?”

Mike squeezed Zack’s shoulder silently sending him unnecessary reassurance before he relaxed and drew back his arm.

“We’ve been together for more than a decade. We got married as soon as were allowed to. ” After only half answering the question, Zack wandered over to gaze out of the window. It was a sore point to both of them, the decades of experience of being second class citizens.

“Congratulations.” Trevor shifted from foot to foot and rubbed his hands together. He looked unprepared for this conversation.

“Thank you. There’s no need to look so shocked, Trevor. Gay couples can do that now, you know.”

Blatant homophobia wasn’t something Mike expected on any building site, not in this day and age. He didn’t go around declaring his sexuality, but for fuck’s sake, it wasn’t 1929. They were legally married, and he wouldn’t expect guys at work to make an issue out of it. And if they did, it would be illegal.

As Zach turned to look out of the window, Mike watched Trevor’s eyes sweep over his husband’s body, lingering on his ass.

Mike was used to other guys, and women, ogling his boyfriend—other men who were gay or bisexual.

As he watched Trevor closely, Mike realized the expressions that fleetingly passed over Trevor’s face weren’t homophobic disgust but a combination of wonderment and lust.

“Oh. Sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression. I’m not bothered that you got married in April 2014. I just can’t understand what he’d see in you, Mike. I mean, you, of all people. You’re hardly a catch.” Trevor didn’t even look at Mike as he spoke to him. He shamelessly drooled over Zack. And for one reason or another, the site foreman knew exactly when gay marriage became possible.

Mike smiled. If Trevor was ready to dish out the insults, then all was good between them. You expected blunt, straight-talking, abusive banter on a construction site. And abusive up to a point was fine. So long as it wasn’t personal, Mike could handle it.

As for the way he checked out Zack… “Talk to my face, Trevor, ‘cause my husband’s arse ain’t listening.”


When Mike thought he saw recognition flash across the foreman’s face a few moments ago, he probably did.

Mike enjoyed the way other men, and women, turned to look twice at his incredible husband. He was proud of Zack’s film career, which earned an additional part-time income. It paid for extra luxuries. But mostly, Mike liked to see his man performing in porn. And didn’t mind for one minute that sometimes Zack was recognized by admirers.

Occasionally guys came up to them and said, “This will be embarrassing if I’m wrong, but aren’t you Cody Hardwood?” Zach would grin shyly and get a little embarrassed. Mike would beam with pride. Because any man with balls big enough to approach them like that had to have watched enough of Zack’s films to damn well recognize him and remember his name.

Cody Hardwood! Ha.

If it were real, he’d change it. But it was perfect for a carpenter who also spent a couple of days a month shooting porn.

So guys recognized Zack if they were admirers of his work.

Zack was a gay porn star and a showoff, which was fine with Mike, because for twelve years they’d come home to each other after work. There was no reason to believe they wouldn’t grow old together.

“Well, you two have got one of the best plots on the site. If I were buying here, this is one of the houses I would have been after,” Trevor said.

“Yeah, don’t we know it.”

Zack turned to join in the conversation. “When Mike first got the drawings for this site, we selected this house straight off, long before they were even marketing it.” He walked across the room toward the door.

“I’m not sure what your neighbors will be like around here,” Trevor said. “At least one homophobic dickhead is buying one of the houses we’re building right now.”

“Which one?”

“Which house? It’s in the cul-de-sac where we were just working. It’s not up to roof level yet. Or which dickhead? That would be Liam Bottomley.”

“Fuck, no! Not him as a neighbor.”

“Devalues your property already, doesn’t it,” Trevor chuckled.

“We should baptize his house with something nasty before he moves in.” Brainstorming out loud, Mike didn’t mean it; not really. Although he could think of a load of ways construction workers lay future misery for the house owner if they wanted to.

“You could make a film in there when the house is finished but before he moves in,” Trevor said. “A gay porn film just before the housing developer hands over the key.”

Mike smiled knowingly.

What put gay sex films on Trevor’s mind? That was the Zack effect that Mike was all too familiar with.

Zack had appeared to be on his way out of the door, but he turned around and looked at Trevor with a knowing and determined look on his face. “That’s a great idea, and I’ve got another. What about a series of films while the house is in progress. Each film would show sex in a new location in the house and document the building’s progress. A sexumentary or doc-sex-mentary. We’ll have to work out the right label.”

“We?” Mike raised his eyebrows, wondering exactly what Zack’s project entailed.

“You say the house has no roof at the moment. That lends itself to a topless theme to the film. Trevor has the site keys, so we can get access out of hours when no one is around. And to reduce the risk of being caught, early Sunday morning is the best time to film outdoors and in public places.”

“This Sunday?”

Trevor wouldn’t need to ask if he wasn’t up for the plan.

Zack nodded at them both. While his face beamed with amusement at the plan, his hand absentmindedly adjusted the crotch of his jeans, or what lay within.

Trevor winked. “Mike only knows me as the site agent. He doesn’t know me that well.”

“I’ve gotta get back to my job. I’m working on a site a few miles away. I’ll be coming to check progress on site on a regular basis, Trevor, so no slip-ups.” Zack winked at Trevor.

He was a one hundred and twenty percent dick tease.


It was too early Sunday morning, or was it still Saturday night? Trevor was certain he should still be asleep. His mind and body struggled, and he couldn’t yet get excited about what he was about to do.

Everybody in England should’ve been in bed. As it was mid-summer, the sun was already up and burning off the morning dew.

Trevor and Mike had arranged the finer details over the few days after Trevor first met Zack. The details being the exact time and place they’d meet.

Neither of them mentioned what they’d do when they got there. Making porn was implied but never explicitly stated. For that matter, Trevor had no idea what role he was expected to play. He was up for anything, or at least he hoped he would be UP for anything. He didn’t know whether he’d suffer from soft stuff in front of a camera, having never done that kind of sex performance before.

Mike and Zack were already at the construction site when Trevor arrived. They’d traveled together in Zack’s sign written van, which detailed his careers. It said ZK Carpentry along with a phone number and the tagline, “The best hand for your wood.”

That raised a smile.

Trevor parked, went over to the gate, and unlocked the padlock. It would’ve been easy to break in. Locks and fences didn’t deter criminals. The single padlock was to prevent innocent people and their dogs roaming onto the potentially dangerous building site.

Trevor heard van doors opening and closing behind him as he swung the gates open. He turned and saw Zack and Mike coming toward him carrying various bags and, strangely enough, a wooden carpenter’s stool. Trevor wasn’t about to ask about any of it.

None of them spoke. It seemed as if their voices would wake up the village at that time in the morning. They nodded silent greetings and Zack flashed one of those familiar dimpled, toothy grins.

Together they walked across to Liam Bottomley’s future home. At the moment, it was a bare shell constructed in gray block work and surrounded by scaffolding.

Zack looked up, pointed silently toward the sun, and walked over to where the property’s front door would one day be, which was where he placed his carpenter’s stool down, under the scaffold.

“We thought you’d hold the camera. Is that okay?” Mike asked.

Trevor nodded; he was hardly about to protest. He wasn’t going to confess he envisaged himself in a different role, and that it involved making his porn film debut with Cody Hardwood. The position he had in mind wasn’t cameraman, but behind Zack, all the way.

Whatever Trevor had to do to be a part of this, he’d do it. He was under no illusions about why the men invited him; he was only there because he had the keys to the site.

Since having time to reflect on things over the past few days, Trevor realized his initial reaction was harsh and unjustified. He regretted saying anything negative to Mike, even as a joke. The fact was, these guys were married. They were obviously in love. And it was tough enough being a gay man in construction: Trevor knew that.

Zack wanted to be with Mike, and after things were finished, they’d go home together.

Trevor felt privileged to be there having the most surreal experience of his life.

Mike yawned. “Let’s get on with this. Get it over with.”

“Is there any plan? A script?” Trevor’s first words emerged as a croaky whisper, cutting through the still morning air louder than he expected.

Zack swaggered over. “Yeah. We’ve got a plan.”

There was something so sexy about the guy. It wasn’t just his looks, although he’d certainly make an excellent two-dimensional calendar boy model. It was the way he moved. The slight bow to his legs. The way he looked confident and comfortable even when his jeans hung too low on his hips. The way he licked his lips, suggesting that in his mouth lay blow job heaven. And Trevor had no doubt it did, based on what he’d seen. He may have binge watched the man’s movies since meeting him.

“You’re gonna be behind the camera. I’ll start off on my own, and then Mike will join me.” Zack paused to watch Mike rummage in the holdall bag that he’d dumped on the ground.

Mike stood up and passed a small digital camera to Trevor.

“Film it any way you like. From any angle, any view, but try not to get Mike’s face in it. From behind him or below his shoulder level is fine We don’t want to have to pixelate his face later.”

“You don’t mind having your face on camera?” He couldn’t held commenting though it wasn’t for Trevor to question the men’s arrangement.

“I’m the porn star. Mike isn’t normally in front of the camera. Are you all right with all this Trevor?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ve just never done this before. I might make a hash of it. Make it look more like Blair Witch Project than…”

“It doesn’t matter. It will look amateur and that’s what we’re going for. People love the home movie look. And watching genuine couples,” added Mike, he twisted his wedding band. “Amateur porn is very popular. And it is amateur porn, after all, none of us are professionals.”

“If we’re all happy with the finished product, I’ll put it up as a free-to-view film on Cody’s website.” It was only a little weird to hear Zack talk about Cody as a third person. Zack wasn’t Cody, of course—that was just a character.


When Zack peeled his sweatshirt over his head and passed it to Mike, he, in turn, handed over a tool belt and a hard hat. Of course, the symbols of a construction worker. The viewers would be in no doubt about the setup of the scene.

“Trevor, you need to zoom out and get the whole house in, complete with scaffolding, so as to set the scene. If ever Bottomley watches this clip, he probably wouldn’t recognize that it’s his house; it’s too early in construction.” Zack went over and took up position under the scaffold.

“Lights, camera, action,” Mike whispered to Trevor. He pointed out the on, play, and pause buttons as well as the zoom. Simple stuff. Point and play.

Trevor pointed and Zack played, running his hands over his stomach and chest while gazing seductively into the camera lens. The way his hands moved emphasized everything that was good about him. The muscles of his shoulders, chest, and stomach.

The temptation of what lay further was below the waistband of his jeans, just visible above the tool belt hanging low on his hips. Everything suggestive and nothing quite pornographic. Not, yet.

People with money show off with flash cars and big houses. Men like to flaunt what they’ve got. Mike was no exception. He was proud to have a red-hot lover and had no problem showing him off.

Zack was always an enthusiastic exhibitionist and what some people called promiscuous. When Zack and Mike got together, it was something they had in common. Far from causing jealous friction in their relationship, having other people involved in their sex life simply added to the fun.

They’d been living together for several years before a casual fuck buddy invited them to make professional porn. As a couple of fully employed, City and Guilds qualified tradesmen, they didn’t need the money, but went into it for fun. Not that they were going to turn down the extra income.

Because in general, Zack didn’t do it for the money. Mike had been at almost every single porn shoot. There were just a couple he’d missed due to unfortunate circumstances.

Like many guys, Zack had a list of things he didn’t do. He didn’t do bareback, for example—why the hell would he? Why was that even a thing some people expected in porn?

He didn’t perform with straight guys. Not anymore.

If Zack was going to perform sex in private or for the camera, it had to be fun. And that meant only with other guys who were into it. Gay or bisexual men only.

A couple of times in the beginning, when he was new and naive to the industry, Zack had scenes with straight guys. That went down in a list of things never to do again, learned through unpleasant experience.

The final product looked sexy when carefully edited. But straight guys aren’t into men, by definition. There was a whole load of things that had to happen in the background to keep the straight guy ready for his gay-for-pay acting stunt. Straight porn in the background for example. A running reminder that the straight guys were straight at every opportunity. When they were the only men genuinely in to other guys on the set, the experience felt degrading, and wasn’t something this couple cared to repeat or remember.

Zack was happy to work with some guys who had girlfriends, so long as they were bisexual. And, having met the girlfriends too, Mike knew they were enthusiastic about watching their boyfriends with other men just as much as Mike liked watching Zack perform.

Less than a minute in, and Zack peeled off his tool belt.

With a soft thud, it landed on the floor. It’d served its purpose, setting the scene of a construction worker.

His cock clearly strained against the denim as if those jeans had been molded on to a man with a big tool in his pants. The length and girth appeared truly impressive. Anyone who’d seen any of Cody’s films would know there wasn’t just padding in there.

Not hanging about, nor taking it slow with the risk of them being caught, Zack undid his jeans, opened them up, and pulled it out—the mouthwatering erection. Mike would never tire of it. His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips. A considerable volume of blood rushed to his cock as he watched.

Mike hoped Trevor was zooming in for a close-up on that big dick.


The scene was appealing; Trevor was unsure where to focus. He loved the shirtless construction worker look. It worked well against the building site backdrop. The safety hard hat and steel-toed boots, along with come-to-bed eyes and a cute smile.

He’d have liked to suck on those hairless nuts that Zack put out on display at the same time as he pulled out his dick without pushing down his jeans.

Trevor wondered how to get the best footage. Should he move about or did the zoom feature work best? It would be too corny to zoom in on Zack’s dick so soon. Trevor had to remember that Zack and Mike would watch this later and would know exactly what Trevor was thinking by how he’d focused the camera.

They only had to take one look at him to have a good idea of how he was feeling. He’d gone from tired and weirded-out to well turned on and hard enough to fuck in just a few minutes.

There was no hiding how much that carpenter turned him on. Why try to hide it? It was a natural reaction.

“You want to see more of this?” Zack asked.

He spoke directly into the camera. Ever since he’d taken to his stage, Zack had flashed the most flirtatious and seductive looks in his direction.

Trevor hoped he wasn’t expected to respond. His heart pounded a little harder in his chest at the thought of seeing more.

“Yeah, show me that fuckin’ dick, babe,” Mike replied for the entire audience, the two men present, and whoever might view the film in the future.

The men exchanged a few comments about jerking off and fucking, and Trevor wondered what exactly they had in mind.

Zack turned and shook his ass provocatively at the camera and then pushed down his jeans to almost his ankles, resting above his boots.

Remaining bent over, he put both hands on his cheeks and pulled them apart invitingly. Trevor moved close and zoomed in. The online audience would thank him for it. Every man watching would want to imagine Zack offering up his ass in front of them. And getting up close with their fingers, tongues, and, of course, cocks.

“Have you got anything useful in that tool belt?” Mike asked.

Zack pulled out a small, white tube of lube; Trevor would bet there weren’t many carpenters who were so well equipped when on site.

Trevor had seen Zack’s films before, so what happened next should have come as no surprise. With a little lube, Zack fingered his hole in preparation for Mike to join him.

Only now did it occur to Trevor that perhaps this couple had already had sex this evening. Perhaps they’d made love before setting off for the site. Or perhaps they did something in the van. The action was moving along at a swift pace, and maybe this was just the centerpiece of some much lengthier sex game this couple played.

Holding onto the carpenter’s bench with his right hand, he used the fingers of his left in an apparently well-practiced endeavor to lube the area and give himself pleasure.

Trevor clenched his cheeks. He wouldn’t mind Zack giving him some of that treatment.

As much to distract his thoughts, Trevor moved to the side of Zack. His face was hidden, pushed into his arm. If there was any doubt about whether this was an act or something Zack liked, the evidence from this angle suggested he loved it. His hard cock hung freely and streamed with glistening precum.

“I think he wants you to fuck him.” Fuck it! Trevor hadn’t intended to say anything out loud; it was a private thought.

No one spoke. Zack acted as if he hadn’t heard, and Mike said nothing. Perhaps that could be cut from the final version.

A minute later, behind Zack, Mike stepped into the picture. His white T-shirt was pulled up to display his hairy, flat stomach. Mike undid his jeans and pushed them down over his hips. His proud erection was as impressive as that of his husband.

Not used to thinking of Mike having outstanding attributes, Trevor would have to rethink his attitude toward plumbers.

He concentrated on keeping Mike’s face out of view as he moved closer to the couple and returned to a location that would give him a clear view of Zack’s ass. If Mike was going to fuck Zack like this, he wanted to get that clearly on film.

Trevor swallowed hard as he watched.

Mike had hold of his dick and rubbed it up and down Zack’s ass, as if making an introduction, before easing it in. Emphasis on ease. Mike entered Zack with ease. And Trevor could imagine his own cock going in there.

How good that must feel.

Tight, hot, bloody amazing.

Mike was all in and staying still.

And the noises Zack made, the heavy breathing and moans of pleasure seemed real. The sounds would’ve been enough to make Trevor come if he were alone.

Trevor stepped back. He feared he was intruding. He moved so that Zack’s cock was again within view. Zack had repositioned his free hand to hold his dick. “Fuck me now,” he whimpered.

“Wow, you two are so hot together. No wonder you’re married.” The thoughts turned into words and just fell out of Trevor’s mouth.

The lovers paid no attention. Picking up a pace, Mike focused on Zack who in turn appeared too well fucked to care about anything else

When he started, Trevor kept on talking. “I love watching the way he’s pounding your ass. You’re both lucky guys.” Trevor had held back, but his British reserve was swept away. He didn’t think about what he was saying; he just spoke. “Mike, would you let me have a go when you’ve finished?”

Mike stopped thrusting, looked over, and flipped a solitary finger.

That was a no, then.

“No way, José. You can watch, but no touching the goods.” Zack called out. The husbands were of one mind on this issue apparently. Shame.


Zack loved fucking and being fucked and just about everything you could do with a guy to get off, or better yet, with a bunch of guys. Yes to all of that stuff.

Nothing compared, however, to intimacy with his husband. Whether they were alone or with other people, once they touched each other, nothing else would do. No one wanted salad after chocolate dessert.

The fucking recommenced.

Sex with Mike wasn’t just something that felt good like it did with other guys. Somehow Mike reached right deep inside him and yanked at his heart. It was such a strong emotional connection that Zack sometimes laughed or cried. He didn’t want to share such emotional intimacy with strangers via the camera lens.

Zack was close to coming.

“Out,” he whispered. Mike would know. It could mean Zack wanted it out, of course, but Mike would know Zack was too close and didn’t want to come like this.

Mike pulled out. “I’m gonna come.”

While the wet splatter of cum fell on his back and arse, Zack held onto his dick and held back everything that threatened to spill over, emotional as well as physical.

A few seconds later, Mike helped him to stand up, and as one, they backed up.

Zack leaned against Mike, with all the wet, sticky stuff still coating him and gluing them together. Mike leaned against the wall of Bottomley’s future home.

Remembering his audience, Zack jerked his dick with slow, firm, determined moves, enjoying the feeling of Mike’s strong presence behind him, his warm breath on the side of his face and his hands on his waist. With his husband at the forefront of his mind and a sharp intake of breath, Zack erupted. The message to Liam Bottomley spurted out like a fountain, landing in front of the house.

The couple stayed still for a few seconds, and then Zack felt Mike push him forward a little and move him around. Fucking with jeans around ankles could be erotic until it came to changing positions. Nevertheless, reeling with post orgasmic euphoria and in need of a shower, Zack was pleased to find himself standing face to face with his man. He almost forgot they were being watched and filmed.

Their lips brushed together.

“I love you,” Mike said, and a little louder, he added, “Trevor, you can put the camera down.”

Zack thought about a series of films they could make, films starring him and his husband. They could be made in every room of the house while it was under construction. Every one of which could be posted on his website.

With their lips still touching, Zack replied, “I love you too. The three of us could make this a regular Sunday morning thing until bigot Bottomley moves in.”

This short story was previously published in a collection.

This is the story of the making of the porn film that is watched by Connor in Our Secret Christmas, the second book in the Sky High Scaffolders series.

By H J Perry:

The Sky High Scaffolds Series:

  1. Our Secret Wedding
  2. Our Secret Christmas
  3. Tread the Boards
  4. A Secret Boyfriend
  5. Friends With Benefits
  6. The Glass Ceiling

Free Lesbian Romance

Hestia is the first in my sex-filled, lesbian romance trilogy Sapphic Soulmates, and it’s now FREE at many ebookstores.

These three books are feel-good fast reads and they are not in KU you can get them at most e book retailers: Amazon, iTunes, Nook, etc… The links and blurbs are below:


HESTIA by Helen Jayne

At Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079BPSH45

At other stores: https://www.books2read.com/u/bMQ22a

Suppose you were seduced by an immortal Goddess today. And discover she has devoted herself faithfully to you for centuries, but you don’t remember past life details. What would you do?
Eighteen-year-old Lauren has survived school in her small town, just about. She’s never had a girlfriend, and she doesn’t have a life plan. She does have the devotion of an immortal Goddess.
Hestia might well be the first of the Olympian gods, but her job has been to keep the home fires burning, which means she doesn’t get out much. She doesn’t mind staying in, but it wasn’t the same when her soulmate went missing for hundreds of years.
When they reunite, their passion and desire are enough to light more fires. They can’t keep their hand off each other. Watch out for ebooks melting because of the heat and undergarments bursting into flames.
Hestia is a sizzling fantasy romance. It features lovers reunited, with a happy ever after.

***44,000 words***

CORBY (book 2) by Helen Jayne

At Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079Q4TDY5

At other stores: https://www.books2read.com/u/3L05L1

In her dreams, Corby has no inhibitions. When she meets the woman of her dreams, she has the confidence to do all those things and more.
Corby is not afraid of taking risks, but to give up everything for a new life in a strange land all for the love of a woman may be a step too far.

Blessed by the ancient gods of Olympus, Vick is the raven princess.
Her people, the Corax, have a long history and many traditions. They also have huge black wings for when they need to fly.
Vick didn’t expect to find love through a chance encounter, but she can’t argue with the pull toward her soulmate.

Corby is a sizzling lesbian fantasy romance for adult readers. There is no cheating. No one dies. There are plenty of cute women, and there is a happy ending.

AEGLE (book 3) by Helen Jayne

At Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079YSZ8SY

At other stores: https://www.books2read.com/u/md0YAZ

A sizzling enemies to lovers lesbian romance.
Jade is a flirt. She can’t help it. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it most of the time. Eventually, she’d like to find her soulmate, but right now she’s young and still in college.

Cocky and sure of herself. Angie is hot, sexy, rich, and ten years older. She’s an arrogant landowner who won’t listen to reason or crazy arguments about protecting the forest.

Development around the small town of Beaumont threatens the woods with destruction. Jade knows the danger in the forest. It’s all too easy for someone to slip through to another dimension and disappear from our world completely.

When Jade tries to bargain with Angie, things go very wrong.

Both women find out more about ancient Olympia than they bargained for

Aegle is a Sizzling HOT steamy erotic F/F lesfic fantasy with a happy ending and no cheating and no cliffhanger.

It is book three in the Sapphic Soulmates series featuring powerful women and the ladies who love them.

Aegle can be read as a standalone but will make more sense if read after the other two books as there is a continuing story.

*** 45,000 words. ***

All books in the series are OTT, sexy, romantic fantasies so be prepared with fresh underwear.

Jade and her best friend Lauren appear in all three books.
Book 1: Hestia
Book 2: Corby
Book 3: Aegle

HIV in gay romance & gay fiction

Creating art is hard work.
Artists should be paid not expected to work for free.
In The Glass Ceiling, Chris is an artist.
Despite HIV blocking an early career opportunity, he went on to achieve great success as an artist.
People bought his original art, and other people bought the reproductions.

Note: *Reproducing the same art in various formats is a standard and vital extra revenue stream for many professional artists who need to make a living.

It was harder for Chris to find love, however. Too many men held irrational fears about dating a guy with HIV and most didn’t seem to know U=U.

“Undetectable = untransmittable”
people living with HIV who are on antiretroviral therapy and are undetectable cannot infect others.

When Chris finally finds love, his new boyfriend comes up with an ingenious way to create an extra novel revenue stream linked to the original artwork.

The Glass Ceiling is the latest book in the SHS series.
NB: The two main characters have appeared in previous books, and this is best read as part of the series.

* Some people think I shouldn’t charge money for this novel because I’m “exploiting” people with HIV. They think diverse characters such as those with HIV should be excluded from romance stories.
However, I write about people living in the real world that I know, here in southern England.

In real life many people are HIV+. There are plenty of men in south-east England who are just like the fictional characters in my books.
I love to see diverse characters in gay romance.

Scroll down for Q & A.

The SHS series in KU on Amazon, right here, for now, but not forever.

compressed TheGlassCeiling (2)

How did Chris become HIV+?

That’s not relevant to this story so we don’t know. We meet Chris when he’s at a very good place in his life. And finding out he’s HIV+ and adjusting to taking daily medication is all part of his history and not the current story.

So why write him as HIV+ at all?

I’ve created a world of British gay men in SHS. they reflect the men here in the real world, many of whom are living with HIV. They are a part of the real world and should be in stories.

What are the important messages in this book?

  1. Artists create art because they love to make art. But it it is their career, to pay the bills, they approach their art as a business.
  2. People are living with HIV. Emphasis on the word LIVING. Enjoying life to the full not living lives of tragedy.
  3. U = U.
  4. Couples need to talk and LISTEN.




Some characters in Gay romance are demisexual

Rescued from Paradise has a demisexual gay character. He feels sexual attract only after forming an emotional bond.


rescuedfromparadise Compressed

Two hot men. One deserted tropical island.

Mr. Don’t-Touch-Me Wade O’Rourke has never allowed anyone to get close to his heart, or into his bed. Perhaps he’s not wired that way. He’s not gay. He was brought up to know it’s not possible in his family. But he’s not attracted to women either. He keeps up appearances for the sake of his family because it’s the thing to do— never mind his family traumas or that he hates his life. And he has reasons to hate his homophobic uncle, too.

Outgoing, optimistic, and carefree Adam Bennet comes from a long line of earthy people— gardeners and farmers. After his parents died, he was raised by his wise grandmother. He helps her run her shop.

When Wade and Adam meet on an airplane, they don’t quite hit it off. They survive a crash landing on an island paradise where they have to join forces to survive. Will Adam take a chance on love with the seemingly straight man? When love blossoms, can it survive the rescue and return to their American small town?

This full-length, standalone novel contains: Two hot guys and a deserted island. A man damaged by his homophobic upbringing. A virgin who never thought he’d want to be touched that way. Coming out in a small town. Steamy man on man love action and a happy ending. ***58,000 words.

Buy from Amazon.com

Buy from other retailers here.