United: The 2019 Christmas Short Story

Find my story for the 2019 Rainbow Advent Calendar right below here:

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You need to join in the advent calendar fun. 1 or 2 surprise stories per day are uncovered… watch this space for more Rainbow Advent Calendar stories.

It’s HERE:

Story Title: United

Story Author: HJ Perry copyright December 2019

 * ~ *


A puppy

A lava lamp


A brand new hornby train set

More snow

A book token

Aunty Maureen’s Christmas pudding

A pinball machine

Snow, and lots of it

To build a snowman

All the family together to eat Christmas dinner that mum cooked

A girlfriend and facial hair – on me, not on the girlfriend

Snow drifts

Mum to cook the Christmas dinner

A season ticket

The best Christmas jumper ever

Billy bookcases

Gift card for Ikea

Scented paper drawer liners

The renewal of my season ticket

Hat and scarf

A boyfriend

Match victory 


 * ~ *

I expected a little light precipitation and a soft breeze. The weather forecast had not warned of snow. Big, white fluffy flakes started coming down sometime in the second half giving the fans in the stadium a momentary distraction; the little kids got very excited and my inner child joined them. 

The snow didn’t settle or disrupt the game. The turf benefited from underground heating and superior drainage to cope with all weathers. Weather might bring transport to a halt in this country but we do all we can to keep football going.

The atmosphere was great. In the stands, the crowd sang a medley of songs with snow and Christmas themes and football chants to the tune of Winter Wonderland. While I watched the play on the pitch I also added my voice to the choir of fans bellowing out our anthems.

Living only a short walk from the football club, I never left a game early. 

After a match, I prefer to delay taking to the streets for my short walk home until most of the crowd had dispersed. I’m always one of the final stragglers who leaves after the last victory lap of our players and after the final song has been sung.

It was only when I exited the stadium and came out onto the street that I appreciated the extent of the snowfall. The white stuff was coming down so thick and fast that a white blanket already obscured the footprints of thousands of football fans.

Turning left in the direction of home, I set off at a good pace glad that I didn’t have to get in a car and deal with slow moving traffic on treacherous roads. Walking was a cold but certain safe thing. And it didn’t have to be all that cold. I had my football scarf wrapped around me and my football hat on my head. I’d soon be as warm as toast.

Ahead of me, I could see the bicycle racks, mostly empty save for a few lonely bicycles dusted with snow. That same area had been packed with bikes earlier. What drew my attention to this area was the man who paced between and around the racks. He stared at the floor. He didn’t look like he was dressed for the weather and it seemed like a strange time to steal a bike, if that was what he was planning.

As I got a little closer I noticed he also wore a City club scarf. I only caught a glimpse of it as it was tucked into his jacket. If he was a real supporter there was a chance that I’d recognise him. I’d been walking to and from home matches for almost as long as I could walk. I knew many of the regular faces in the crowd by sight if nothing more.

“You alright, there?” I called out.

As he looked up and his eyes met mine. The man’s familiar face looked pale with cold and concern. I recognised him, but I couldn’t say where from. Possibly just from attending the local football matches. Perhaps he also lived nearby. Maybe we passed each other in our day to day lives. If so, I doubted if it was through work. If a man as handsome as him came into the library, I’d remember him.

I was born to be a librarian. Sure I loved reading, but librarians don’t get to sit down and work their way through the books. Librarianship is not all about reading although it certainly helps to appreciate reading in the way that only an avid reader can. Being a librarian is about bringing order where chaos could so easily reign. I loved reading. I loved books, and I liked neat order.

At times I fancied librarianship was very similar to being a football manager. My natural career path being up through the various library posts and then a sideways move into managing a first division football team. Same set of skills. Order. Organisation. Interpersonal skills. Okay, I know it’s fanciful, but I have an overactive imagination, and there’s nothing wrong with dreaming.

“Everything alright?” I repeated the question.

“No. It really isn’t. My bike’s right here but I’ve lost my keys.” The man’s voice sounded calm but his face gave a different impression. 

“Have you dropped them in the snow?” I asked stepping towards him and casting a glance in the vicinity of his feet.

“I don’t know. I don’t know where I lost them. I just found them missing when I came to unlock my bike.”

“So, you could have dropped them at the match?” I glanced at the stadium.


“Where do you live, mate?” I asked

“Selly Oak. It’s about four miles.” He bit down on his bottom lip.

I knew where it was. Of course, he didn’t know I’d lived in the area all my life.

“What sort of a lock do you have there? Let me take a look, mate. Most of them are easy to break.”

“What are you? A bicycle thief?” he snapped.

“Asks the man with no keys.” I chuckled. “No. I’ve never stolen a bike in my life, but I live nearby and I have access to tools.”


“And you appear to need help.”

And then it occurred to me that we were both getting covered in snow, the reality of which is not as great as it looks. The reality means getting wet and cold. I didn’t fancy having to cycle anywhere in this weather, even less than I’d want to drive.

“My house is just down that road there. Why don’t you come with me and wait for it to stop snowing before cycling home. We can come back with something to smash the lock off your bike.”

The stranger shivered and without hesitation he hastily greed. “Yeah, thanks. That’d be great. I wasn’t expecting snow. Even if I could find my keys I don’t want to cycle in this blizzard.”

I’d probably call it more of a flurry than a blizzard. But I couldn’t blame him. I’d rather get inside someone’s house ASAP than be standing out here contemplating a journey on a bike through the snow. 

“Let’s get going then. I’m Brian, by the way.”

“Pleased to meet you Brian. I’m Bill,” said Bill.

We set off and the walk home passed quickly. We talked the entire ten minutes or so of the down-hill journey. I probably recognised Bill through match attendance. He also went to at least half the home games, he said. And we analysed today’s match, unpicking and celebrating our victory over United.


 * ~ *

“It’s a nice place you’ve got here,” Bill said as we entered my house. 

I thought it was a bit premature as he’d only seen it from the front and in the hallway. It was a very nice hallway, as nice as long narrow corridors with white walls and wooden floors go. A little on the small side, but at least I had a hallway. Many people live in houses where the front door enters straight into their living room.

“It’s just a humble Victorian terrace, nothing grand, but it’s mine.”

“Do you live with anyone?”

“No. I’m all alone with my books. I thought about getting a cat, but I work full-time so I’m not sure I have the time to look after an animal.”

“I love cats. I grew up in a house full of them. Well, not full, but it sometimes seemed like it. We had four.”

I threw open the door to the sitting room to invite him in. “Well, you’ll see, my house is full of books not pets. They need less care.” 

He walked over to inspect the paperbacks on one of the shelves. “I didn’t expect a house full of books.” Bill turned on the spot taking in my excessive investment in Billy bookcases filled with fiction. “Cat’s, maybe, but you don’t expect to meet a bloke at football and find he has his own personal library.” 

“Is it okay?” For some reason his approval mattered to me. 

“Of course, it’s okay. If you like it, it is your house. And I like it.”

I was pleased he liked it. “You like reading?” I asked him.

He ran a finger over Oscar Wilde. “I love reading. I did an English degree and now, for my sins, I’m an English teacher.” His face flushed pink as the heat of the room warmed him.

“I’m a librarian,” I confessed.

We took off our wet outer garments. I got us warm drinks and we sat and chatted about books and our work for a while. The conversation flowed from classic and popular books that we’d enjoyed to some our our favourite libraries to what we thought of the people who taught us English literature a school.

I had certainly had some bad experiences in school, enough to almost put me off reading for good. Thank goodness I decided to give fiction another try after one or two teachers ruined some books. Or perhaps they were irredeemably bad books regardless of the teachers..

It turned out that Bill had had the same thing. He vividly remembered those teachers. In describing them we uncovered that the reason Bill appeared familiar was because we’d attended the same school at the same time.  

It was turning into a day of fortunate coincidences.

“I feel so lucky that you came along when you did. I’d still be stuck out there. I don’t know what I’d do. Now here I am in a school reunion”

“You make me sound like the knight in shining armour. I just did the decent thing.”

“More than that. I’m sitting in the warm, drinking cocoa with a handsome and interesting man who has Shakespeare, Wilde, Adams and Pratchet on his shelves.  Life doesn’t get any better.”

He called me handsome. “You sound easily pleased.”

“On the contrary. I’m not at all. That’s probably why I’m forever single.”

I knew that feeling. It wasn’t so much that I was fussy, as I just never met a man who was right for me.


 * ~ *

“So what are your plans for the Christmas holiday?” I asked. He was a teacher. He had just started a two week break. 

“Seeing family, friends football, in any order, and catching up on sleep. What about you? How long do you get off?”

“Not as long as you, a bit over a week. I’ll be doing the same as you. But with my family and friends, of course, I don’t know yours.”

He laughed. “I can introduce you.”

Not a bad idea. You can never have too many family and friends. “I’ll go make another drink,”

“Great.” He picked up a book and I knew he’d be perfectly content on his own in my sitting room whilst I rustled up a snack.

When I reentered the sitting room carrying a tray with sandwiches and crisps and sealed packets of nuts (because he might have allergies), Dill was stood at the window. I already knew the snow was falling relentlessly and had settled thickly in the street outside. For as long as it lasted we were as good as snowed in. Although this being central England, life would probably be back to normal tomorrow. That still meant getting through that night.

“I’ve been wondering about the scrolls of paper on your Christmas tree.”

“They’re letters to Santa,” I replied without missing a beat.

He raised a solitary skeptical eyebrow.

“Take a look,” I said. “At that one.” I knew which was which.

He picked up the scroll and returned to his seat. “That food looks good. I would say you shouldn’t have, but I’m so pleased you’ve taken pity on me and taken me in.”

“I’m not thinking of it as pity. I’m enjoying having you here. Ow, eat or look at my letter to Santa.”

Bill unwound the scroll and read: “Dear Santa, Thank you for giving me the things I wanted at the top of my wish list in years gone by, even if they didn’t arrive on Christmas day or in the year I wanted them. To refresh your memory, these are some of those top wishes.

At the beginning of December my parents and my siblings had all sat around at my parent’s house and written similar letters. It took us on a hilarious and pleasant trip down memory lane together as we discussed each other’s lists. It was a great idea at the time, to do in a group. It sounded strange listening to someone else read it out of context.

He read through each item, slowly.

“Snow. A puppy. A lava lamp. Good choices, who doesn’t want all of those things.”

I nodded.

“Lego. A brand new hornby train set. More snow. A book token.”

“Those were all things I wanted in my early childhood, but they still sound good today.”

“Aunty Maureen’s Christmas pudding?”

“She makes them from scratch, months in advance and with lots of alcohol.”

“A pinball machine. Snow, and lots of it. To build a snowman.”

“Apart from the pinball machine, I’ve never been hugely materialistic, which is just as well as I’ve also never been very well off. We librarians aren’t paid fortunes.”

“I especially like this next one: All the family together to eat Christmas dinner that mum cooked.”

“Mum had been ill and my sister had been away. I wanted things back to how they were.”

“A girlfriend and facial hair – on me, not on the girlfriend.”

My hand went to hide my face. There was too much to explain, but he’d know soon enough as he read down the list. “Facial hair at fourteen definitely wasn’t achievable, nor at fifteen or sixteen, but it appeared there in the end. The girlfriend lasted about a day or a week I can’t remember. I think we kissed once. That was just a passing whim. You could say I was going through a phase. The phase of wanting to be like my mates. I now realise most of them only had imaginary girlfriends at that age.”

Bill laughed. “Yeah, right. Let’s see. Snow drifts.”

“I wanted snow at Christmas.”

“And according to this you wanted Mum to cook the Christmas dinner.”


“A season ticket?”

“To the football. I’ve been a fan since I was a young lad. My dad used to take me or we’d watch it on the TV.”

“It sounds like you are a close family.” 

“You have no idea. So close my parents actually live in the next street.”

“Okay, racing by The best Christmas jumper ever, I want to know why you want Billy’s bookcases.”

“They’re Billy bookcases, the budget ones from Ikea. In this house. I got my own place and needed Ikea to furnish it.”

“Been there too. Is The renewal of my season ticket related to Hat and scarf?”

“Yep. All football club related.”

“And,” his eyes remained fixed on the paper. I knew what was coming. “Tell me about this one, A boyfriend.”

“I’m gay.”

“Okay, good. Match victory, that’s football related too?”

“It is.”

“Interesting. You get to know a lot about a man from his Christmas wish list.”

“What have you learned about me?” I asked with some degree of trepidation.

“You like the simple things in life and value your family. There’s no fancy gadgets or expensive watches or designer labels on the list or even on display now I sit in your home.”

“My, I’m an open book.”

“What’s on the other scrolls?”

“Oh.” I didn’t want to go there, but I didn’t feel I could shut the conversation down now. “It’s just a fun family tradition. We get together and write our Christmas wish list to Santa. We still do it.”

“So those are your current wishes. Can I look?”


“Yes. But I’ll die with embarrassment.” 

“No you won’t. You shared it with your family so it is not a request for sex toys.”

My turn to laugh. “I’ll just tell you. One of them wishes we win the FA cup.”

“Good wish, I hope it comes true.”

“And the other was for a boyfriend.”

“You know what’s strange about that?”

“What?” I asked.

“I can’t believe you’re single. I can’t believe a guy as perfect as you isn’t already married, but I’m not going to let the opportunity slip by if there’s any chance. When the snow clears, can I take you out on a date?”

Once again, thank you for delivering, Father Christmas.

 * ~ *


Join in the Advent Rainbow Calendar fun at the facebook group here.

More English football themed fiction: REDUCED to $0.99:

Home Goal (the ebook version of Home Goal is reduced to $0.99 for this weekend only 5th – 9th)


My Goal (find it at all the usual stores)


And have yourself a great Christmas.





Upheaval and settling down

I’m looking forward to settling down for a big Christmas break. we typically have two weeks off in the UK and this year I certainly feel I need it.
Now, you may wonder about that, given that I’ve done so few words this year and even had to cancel books and set back dates by months.
Well, I can now reveal that I was uprooting my family and that process took a lot of mental energy (OK, all if it).
We are just about settled in our new home in a different part of the country. There are still a few unpacked boxes in each and every room, but I fee we’re on top of it. The children have started their new schools and all that remains is for me to find a new hairdresser
– that needs to go top of the To Do List, TBH, you should see the state of my hair. I’ve been wearing a lot of hats lately for a reason.

Now, I’m back on the story horse, and really pleased to know I’ll have the time to focus because I’ve loads of stories I want to share. Many are even half written or done in first draft. I hope to share them with you in 2020.

In the meantime, do have a look at the Advent Calendar

where you can find new stories every day in the run up to Christmas.

Earth (part 1) MMF PNR menage

Malka doesn’t know it, but she’s working toward her reverse harem in book 1 Earth: Elemental Reverse Harem Quartet

EARTH: MMF excerpt (for adult readers only)

I figured if Beck didn’t want me sucking his cock, he’d push me away and give me a better explanation about what was on and off limits when you’re ‘saving yourself’ for sex magic.

When I sat back, the vampire bite looked like a kiss. One intense, lingering, sexy kiss. A kiss between two men in love. I wanted to understand what turned Beck to putty and craving more?

Chemistry like that didn’t spring spontaneously from nowhere. No matter whatever they said about meeting in a gay bar and then letting me believe that nothing much happened, there must have been far more to their story than they’d told me.

Fully dressed, the dark dominant Romanian held the naked, muscular man as if he would never let him get away. The blond Brit’s dick filled the Romanian’s hand.

Opposites attract.

The scene was a hot and erotic tableau.

From now on I wanted my threesomes to always involve guys who liked snogging and holding each other like that. Kissing each other all over wouldn’t go amiss.

They’d already suggested that Varu’s bite was orgasmic, and it was no joke, I saw how much it turned Beck on. His whole body visibly tensed and relaxed as if he were going to come. He must have been close. His diamond hard dick twitched and jerked. His eyes screwed shut, his mouth gaped open, and a blissed-out look took residence on his face.

It looked Hot with a capital H.

It wasn’t just Beck, the way Varu held him so close it appeared the vampire wanted the Water Boy in all ways and not only for his blood.

I felt privileged to view this intimate moment, and not at all self-conscious touching my wet place while I watched them.

Find it here: https://www.amazon.com/Earth-Elemental-Reverse-Harem-Quartet-ebook/dp/B07N599WV7


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
  • Scribed
  • 24sybols
  • Playster
  • Kobo Plus

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
  • Ereadernewstoday.com
  • ebookhounds.com
  • hotstuffromance.com



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









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

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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?
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***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.