Monday, May 10, 2010
Neil Plakcy has published four novels about Honolulu homicide detective Kimo Kanapa’aka, and has enjoyed the chance to write short stories about him, too. Mahu Men includes both mystery stories and pieces of erotica about Kimo’s life and coming out process. Here are some excerpts from both kinds of stories.
MLR Press (March 22,2010)
Excerpt from “I Know What You Did”
When he answered the door, Fremantle’s roommate wore only a pair of white Calvin Klein briefs. He was a queeny boy in his early twenties, with pouffed up blonde hair that came to a stylized point above his forehead. He was waifishly thin, but his arms and legs were muscular.
“You’re the gay cop!” he said, when he saw me. “Oh, darling, I’m so excited.” Before I could react, he leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. His breath tasted sweet and somehow familiar. “Oh, now I can say I kissed the gay cop!”
He danced backwards a little, leading me into a living room furnished with Salvation Army castoffs. Dirty clothes littered the tattered sofa, and were strewn over the no–color carpet and a couple of dubious–looking chairs. A big old TV squatted in one corner, one of the talk show hosts encouraging some poor soul to bare his problems.
The boy, whose name was Larry Wollinsky, sprawled on the sofa, knocking a jumble of shorts and t–shirts to the floor. “Come sit by me,” he said, patting a place on the sofa next to him. “I’m just crushed by all this, you know.”
I sat in an armchair across from him, and he pouted. “Tell me about James
Fremantle,” I said. “Was he your lover?”
Larry laughed. “Jimmy? My God, no. Although,” he leaned forward, “there was this one time, after a volleyball game at Queen’s Surf, when we were both so horny. I mean, you know what that’s like, you just have to do something about it. But no, we were just roommates.”
Queen’s Surf was the gay beach; I’d been there myself a few times, but had not yet joined in a volleyball game. “Not friends?”
“Not really. Jimmy was kind of a loser. He didn’t have a lot of friends.”
Excerpt from “Blowing It”
There wasn’t much room in the tiny airplane lavatory, but Keoni kneeled in front of me, pushing me against the back wall, and I balanced myself, one hand against the counter and the other against the side wall.
My dick wasn’t hard, and there were a few drops of urine still dribbling out, but Keoni didn’t seem to mind. He took me in his mouth as he unbuckled my belt and opened my pants, dropping them to my knees, then reached up through the leg of my boxers (tropical fish in neon colors, not nearly as embarrassing as some in my drawer) and fondled the underside of my balls.
It was like he flipped a switch, and my dick responded, inflating to its full six inches (I’m a cop, after all; I don’t lie, even about the length of my dick). His finger kept working me, stroking the sensitive area between my ass and balls, as he sucked and licked, and all too quickly I felt shudders rising.
But he pulled back, and I didn’t come. I was still hard, my mouth was dry, and my groin was roiling, but I didn’t come. Keoni said nothing, but his index finger found my asshole and started wiggling, and a minute or two later his mouth was back on my dick. He deep–throated me, then pulled back to lick me like I was an ice cream cone. The tip of his tongue penetrated my piss slit and goose bumps rose on my arms.
I felt the pressure build—but so did Keoni, and he backed off. Three times he brought me to the point of explosion and backed off. By the fourth time, though, I was ready to beg. I couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but I was sure there was somebody else with a full bladder waiting outside the lavatory, and my arms had grown so weak I was having trouble keeping my balance—and I NEEDED TO COME.
Keoni knew that, too, without my having to do anything more than utter a few inarticulate moans and whimpers, though I tried my best to be quiet and keep what we were doing in there a secret from anyone standing outside. As the pressure built inside my groin for the fourth time, Keoni didn’t let up, and it felt like every nerve ending in my body became electrified as my cum exploded down his throat.
Excerpt from “Super-Size”
My bathroom has a combination tub and shower, plenty big enough for Tom and me—provided we stayed close to each other. I turned the water on spray and then faced him, my hard dick rubbing against his thigh, which was lightly dusted with the same blond hair that freckled his chest.
We kissed again, and he grabbed my dick and started jerking it. “Slow down, cowboy,” I said, taking hold of his wrist. “Nobody’s in a hurry here, right?”
He grinned sheepishly. I took a bar of soap and began lathering him up, beginning with his shoulders, then his pecs, paying close attention to his nipples, which stood up like little toy soldiers by the time I was done with them. I spent a long time on the big expanse of his belly, running my hands up and down the smooth acres of flesh, then around and around in circles.
By this time he was hard again, though there wasn’t much difference in size from soft to hard. I avoided the pubic area, working first down one leg, then the other, squatting down to massage each thigh and calf with lavender–scented soap. Every now and then he’d gulp a little or sigh, and I kept up a steady patter, complimenting the softness of his flesh, the strength of his tendons, the sheer wonderful size of him.
I was turned on by how much of him there was. I didn’t quite know why; many guys, Tom’s roommates included, probably saw his fat as unattractive. But I’ve been with skinny guys who have nothing you can hold on to, dicks the size of pencils, lips that make you feel like you’re kissing hard plastic.
I’ve been with guys I felt I could break if I wasn’t careful, and I was reveling in Tom’s size, even as I turned him around and began soaping the backs of his legs and that wonderful big ass. I greased up a finger with lather and pried apart his ass cheeks to find his puckered hole. Tom hiccupped a little.
“You like that?” I asked. “You like me to play with your ass?”
He sighed in response. I took that as a yes. I stood up, lathered my dick back into a rock–hard state, and then pressed myself up against his back. I reached around him for his tits, and fingered them while my dick struggled to make its way through his mountains of flesh and into his ass.
It was a tough go, I have to admit. I was fucking his ass cheeks more than his hole, but it still felt damn good to me. I thought about getting a condom but because I couldn’t get into him I didn’t think I needed one. Just being pressed up against him, his skin sliding against mine, was enough to get me off.
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