Monday, October 11, 2010

33, A Gay Love Story excerpt by Justin South

33, A Gay Love Story by Justin Smith is the story of two mid-20 year olds, Rick and Justin, who meet in a heated encounter in a crowded elevator in Sydney. Their love blazes from the first chapter to the last page. Along the way they fight issues of self doubts and fidelity, explore faith and courage, re-live past fragilities, and probe the anxieties and trials of common gay life issues.

Rick and Justin meet and match twelve other lonely, sex and love starved guys, aged 18 to 30. These introductions add to Rick and Justin’s uber-hot sexy scenes that run from the first to closing chapters. The stories of these characters enrich the book’s themes, particularly those of Lou and the 18 year olds, Shorty, and Polynesian French boy, Damien. Shorty is the sad product of an abusive, loveless and directionless upbringing, resulting in his 18 year old body living more in the mindset of a friendship seeking 15/16 year old. His and his lover’s inexperience and blossoming romance embellishes the story with the charm and quaintness of innocent, virginal teenagers embarking on the path of love.

33 is a story of loneliness, hardships, abuses, insecurities, denial, curiosity, desire and love, found in everyday situations that touch feelings and tug at memories. It is a story of deprived love; of the heart’s desperation to find a mate, of the body’s innate needs to find fulfilment from companionship. It speaks of the beauty and bounties realised by guys meeting guys, of ending the abyss of loneliness, of guys falling in love, of gay fellowship and partnership. Balancing these emotions are humour, enlightenment and happiness, the outcomes of considerations, cordiality and honour, as shown by easy going Rick and love-struck, Justin towards each other, and their newfound friends.

33 chronicles the paths of these two hot characters through tender to fearless emotions, peaceful domesticity, and through sadness and trauma caused by dreadful, life-threatening experiences. It reveals their inner strengths of character and feelings, their beliefs, their traits and emotional disturbances. Added to these fabrics are the rich perspectives, wisdoms, personalities and emotions of the other characters. John, a beautiful shy neighbour and product of a dysfunctional family, desperately seeking human touch and acknowledgement, tests Justin’s resolve. Luca tempts Justin at a beach, his handsome Italian allure later swamps Justin’s reasoning. A stressful encounter with Scott turns into unexpected modelling opportunities. When Shorty meets Damien, instant love develops, soaring to high adventures. Rick risks business ties by introducing the Chief’s grandson to a lonely mining worker. Justin becomes a legend in aboriginal lore. Who joins the Mile High Club, and how?

These and many other characters combine to create a colourful tapestry; tales of pacey adventure, heat, fun and excitement, touching nerves, engaging senses and massaging one’s mind. Sinister international corporate intrigue, greed, crime and murder set a background of discovery of personal integrity, and tests Rick and Justin’s dedication towards each other. In gripping life or death outcomes at a diamond mine in Australia’s remote north west, and in the miner’s boardroom in Perth, Justin’s courage and love for his mate are put to extreme tests. Following post trauma recuperation, Rick’s demure character explodes into carefree bandonment. His new found attitude to life is exemplified during a modelling assignment for a Spanish manufacturer of swim, beach and party wear. Risking his new career opportunity, he turns the tour’s shows on four continents into riotous, bacchanalian romps.

Sex, love, intrigue and murder, what could be better? For readers who like hot and graphically described male to male sex scenes, 33 is sure to please you. Scenes are portrayed vividly and differently. Similarly, if you also like riveting jigsaw intrigues of corporate mischief and a mysterious murder, 33 will pleasantly surprise you. Gripping, gun-smoking descriptions of callousness, cowardice, greed, maliciousness and madness by the perpetrators, should add to your reading pleasure.

33, A Gay Love Story


Small waves swell and roll and froth to and fro over the rippled sand, their quiet chorus joining in splendid harmony with gentle rustlings of palm fronds on the fitful rushes of soft breezes. Occasional splashes of disturbed baitfish sound distantly, fluttering the water’s surface with moon-speckled ripples. Farther out, lying to the breeze, the yacht rides at anchor, bathed in the silvery sheen of the moon glow shimmering across the surface of the lagoon. Sweet aromas of frangipanis and wild orchids and poincianas and magnolias float on the breezes, such symphony of nature reaching us thrashing and writhing in our wild, passionate, romantic embraces on the lustrous talcum sand.

Bathed in the brilliant moon glow of the warm tropical night, our bodies appear painted in monotones of silvers, grays, greens and black, of brilliant glosses and intense contrasting shadows. Their patterns and tones change violently to the chaos of our love moves, to the devouring, uncontrollable intoxications of our passions. We clench in an orgy of fervent desires and ferocious overpowering emotions. Our lips ram our faces, our tongues scrimmage in the ruckus of our superheated ardor. Amid our wild scrambling gropes and parched deep breathing, we squeeze our bodies brutally, clinching our torsos in breath-crushing bear hugs. Amid our musky sweat and other rich aromas of our manliness, we entwine our legs and arms in ecstatic responses to the chemistry of our love potions. We wrestle and squirm in sublime torture in our attempts to reach, what I consider, the impossible: Nirvana, that plinth of love, that unattainable Paradise of complete, everlasting emotional fulfillment, that Eldorado of sublime, idyllic bliss. Our groins collide in angry Nirvanic desire, our eyes blaze to the savagery of our fiery torment. Our bodies madly lunge and crunch to the furor of the approaching pinnacle of our love, of approaching sex, to the expectations of our super-heated excitement.

I tremble violently in my burning anticipation. My mind is consumed, boiling in the blazing eroticism of our love. Emotions are overwhelmed in the tumultuous whirlpools of wild chemicals and charging electricity. As if possible, I clench my lover tighter, rolling and twisting in ever escalating spirals of explosive love. Cradling his head, I scramble kisses over his lips and cheeks and chin and nose and forehead and ears and neck in frantic outpourings of my rampant passions. We gasp between our noisy, panting kisses, his frenzied legs flay mine, his wild arms roam my back, sharp fingernails leaving trails marking his Utopian ecstasy. We batter our engorged cocks into our bellies, sliding, rubbing and humping them in orgiastic delight. The mounting pleasurable flushes, those exotic sensations, intensify in my cock as our smoldering hot love rods touch. My brain jolts to the thrill of that unbelievable male phenomenon, to that singularly exceptional male pleasure when the velvet soft flesh of one hot quivering cock touches and rubs and lies against a similar rampant cock.

That distinct, beyond-blissful sensation is only surpassed by the sudden surges that whip my body in furies of agitated excitement when I vice-grip both cocks together. The feelings from these unique experiences send our sensory systems into fireballs, cause us to buck our heads, wince our eyes and howl in wild ecstatic glee. Oh god, I’m in heaven riding a cyclone of delicious, voluptuous emotions. I hold his face in both hands as I smash a kiss to his lips and seek his tongue. He touches me; he touches my super sensitive dick, grappling it in his hand, making me lurch, making me hump as more unexpected divine pleasures course through me. I yelp to the delights. His other hand engrosses my chest, roams over my tweaked nups, then his lips covet them in his indulgent desires. When I open my eyes I see vague visions of the moon overhead, filtered in a morass of kaleidoscopic colors. Silvered tones of reds and greens and blues and yellows parade across my eyes.

I know I've been to the doorstep of nirvana before, been to the threshold of absolute love. I’ve been close to that feeling of total fulfillment at times, but never as close as I am with Rick at this moment on this beach, bathed in the romantic charm of the moon’s silver glow. I can’t love him any more than I do yet my heart feels an earnest desire to love him more; I can’t give more yet my body yearns to. He consumes my life, my will and passion. I live with the constant thoughts of him in my mind; he is like a god in my life, a god I constantly worship.

I want him in me. My mind is ruled by a demanding need to have our love and bodies combine into the union of one. I need his love tool in me, need him making glorious love to me, to feel bonded in the wonder of the union of sex, to have my love tunnel filled with his supreme gift, to eventually feel his hot sperm spurt deep within me. All night I've wanted him but now it’s a matter of urgent demand. I want to feel the motions of his love contenting me, making me adequate, making me worthy of his love, making me know he loves me, that our sexual coupling is the zenith of our passions. I want him to take me to Nirvana.

My trembling hands fidget on his shoulders, my head again arches to the starless night sky, my eyes filter the moon’s glare, as his tongue continues driving me crazy. I face him, words forming in my parched throat.

“Rick, do it,” I croak, “now.” I demand.

It’s a simple request, frank and to the point; but it carries the meaning of my burning, frustrated emotions. He responds. His eyes tell me. His nimble gentle hands tell me. His passionate tongue and kisses tell me. He makes gentle, exquisite love to me; I’m in heaven.

Chemicals boil in my brain. Electrical currents pulse my nerves. My heart pumps chaotically as my head thumps to the raging energies circuiting my body’s systems. I become a demented, love charged, hormonally haywire basket case. Goosebumps ripple my flesh in erotic tingling reaction to the effects the tip of his roaming tongue and lips have on me as they wind their way along the defines of my acutely sensitive belly and groin. His tongue courses beside my fiery red love pole lying flat against my abdomen, then meanders its scintillating way to torture my scrotum. He licks my balls, sending new floods of spasms through my over-heated senses.

He sucks one ball into his mouth, playing his tongue over and around the sac. Tremors of sheer delight cascade through my groin as he twirls the ball in his mouth. Then he licks the other ball and sucks it into his mouth, causing more quivers to my body as his tongue discovers more highly sensitive membranes. Without warning, he devours my scrotum. He squeezes and suctions my bloated ball sac in a cushion of saliva in his hot mouth, teasing both balls with his tongue while his nose nuzzles the prominent urethra of my steel hard dick. I gulp and shiver.

“Ooohhh Rick,” I groan. His saliva-slicked tongue feels like the faintest caresses of duck down feathering the contours of my sensitive sac.

“Rick,” I yell amid the loud mutterings of animal grunts. He’s causing a storm of hot rushes of exquisite ecstasy in my groin. My legs scissor-grip his body, trembling hands violently clench and slap the blanket while my arched head tosses wildly in a rapturous, sweaty state of bliss.

His nose slides lightly along my twitching love pole. Then his tongue reaches and darts over the base of the shaft, his delicate touch further inflaming the furnace blazing my nerves. In quick reflex, my dick jerks wildly into his face, splattering precum into his hair. It slams back against my groin, flicking precum onto my belly that glosses in the moonlight. His tongue slides along the full length of my semen tract. Its tip reaches and skims sensuously around the almost unbearably sensitive underside of the glans causing hysteria to my senses. Black spots appear before my eyes. He’s tormenting me into unconsciousness as he licks my over-bloated cock head.

Kneeling over me, he uses his bottom lip and chin to steady my vibrating shaft as he stretches his tongue around my head, smearing precum and saliva over it, super sensitizing it in the smooth lubricating ambrosial liqueur. Then he licks my shaft again and again, starting at the base and ending at the knob. Each time he tickles the knob his tongue picks up a string of the ambrosia which he stretches to the base, letting the cum line fall and slick my shaft. He repeatedly licks my pole like an all-day sucker. He licks the sides, alternating from one to the other, licking the head each stroke, causing precum to puddle in my navel, glimmering silver under the moon. Every time he licks he picks up a strand of precum on his tongue and stretches it to my pubes. It looks funny and odd. My dick feels ready to explode. It feels sore from the prolonged love games and highly pressurized blood. I can’t believe it; it feels over extended, super swollen, stiff for too long. It needs relief, but I don’t want to cum, not yet.

“Rick,” I croak. I clear my throat. “Rick,” I repeat, my plea more convincing, mussing his hair with trembling hand. “Please, Rick, please,” grappling his arms and pulling him to me. “No more, please no more. I can’t take it, my beautiful man,” whispering hoarsely into his ear. “Rick. Please. Now, baby,” I beg him.

He nods. His gorgeous smile consumes his face. I see his teeth flashing, starkly contrasting against his otherwise silver sheen and dark monotones cast on his face. His eyes glint as if stunning pools of fire flashes. I’m mesmerized. I dab shaking fingers of both hands against his cheeks, run my thumbs over his strong chin and lips, peer at the new moonlit perspectives of his beauty as the background sounds swarm about us; wavelets lapping the shore, insects singing their choruses, bats squabbling in the distance, trees fluttering in the pleasant breezes. All these murmurings grace my ears as I hold the featured face of my lover in my hands, drawing him to me, to a slow, long embracing kiss, loaded with passion, filled with love; to a kiss meant only for a god.

Moving between my splayed legs, he dips some fingers in the gleaming silver puddle of lubricant in my navel and smears the potion over his hot love piston. His hardened, quaking love spear points towards me, its engorged, magnified head and shaft shining in the stark moonlight. He dips again, spreads my butt cheeks, and locates and strokes his cum coated fingers over my love bud, making me writhe in exotic pleasures to his caressing touches. He raises my left leg above his body, moves into a lying position beside me, then presses his steel hard pole to my love door and smoothly pushes in. I welcome his sex piston, adjusting myself to ease its entry into my fiery tunnel of tormented love and tumultuous lust. His slicked dick slides into me, rubbing along membranes as it progresses deeper. I devour all of him, soon feeling his pelvis and pubes pushing against me. His dick feels like a hot poker in me, its heat inflaming my linings, warming me, adding a pleasant sensation to our intercourse. I love the feeling.

At last we are at one. Finally, I feel that dimension of wholeness I've eagerly sought, of feeling him fill my love grotto, of feeling complete in the mystery and magic of love’s ultimate act. My hand combs his ruffled hair, rubs his neck and shoulders. I mutter, I coo, I encourage him to take us to the door of Nirvana. Slowly he begins his piston actions, thrusting backwards and forwards, sliding his hot poker along my side lining, sending myriads of furious signals throughout my sex system. He tingles my groin most opulently. I gasp and fling my head back, exposing my Adam’s apple to the moon. I wriggle to his touches, intensifying the extreme feelings within me, sending more streaks of passion to my brain. God, don’t let this ever end, I pray.

After he settles into his thrusting action, he roams a hand over my chest, pinching and circling and rubbing each nup. His fingertips amble down between my abdomen muscles to the cum puddle of my belly button and the stretched engorged knob of my love muscle; his fingers circle the knob, then grip my shaft. Feeling his hand holding me sets off a new wave of goose bumps. He squeezes and flexes his finger grip, sliding upwards to let his thumb rub over the knob, then slowly starts stroking, rubbing and twisting his palm and fingers over it on each upward stroke. His technique triggers rushes of heady sensations, bringing on the early tingles of approaching orgasm, most pleasant but too early to enjoy. I clench his hand forcing him to stop his stroking but not wanting him to remove it.

Rick changes position, fluidly swinging under my raised leg, careful to leave his hot love poker in me. He lies on me propping on his elbows either side of my chest. The missionary position lets him thrust more of his love tool into me, lets him reach deeper into the recesses of my love cavern. His new angle and thrusting rhythm now crunches my prostate causing a new tide of flutters to sweep my senses. My engorged sensitive dick wedges between our bellies. The subtle movements of his hot flesh caused by his thrusting motions further thrill my hot cock, rushing its exalted pre-orgasm feelings to new heights of excruciating frustration, of barely controllable containment.

I’m panting in wild bliss, wanting to cum simultaneously with Rick, waiting for his warning, to explode in unison. Yet he keeps thrusting into me. He keeps sensitizing my aching muscle trapped between our bellies. We scrunch our chests, feeling the raised hard nipples rasping our flesh; feeling our lips battering, flattened against each other in utopian desire. Deep breaths filter through my clenched teeth, eyes are rammed shut, my head is clamped beside his as I desperately try to withhold my orgasm. I'm despairing in my attempts, crooking my knees towards my shoulders, wrapping my calves around his waist in a futile attempt to divert attention from my dilemma.

Finally, I crack. “Rick, I can’t hold any longer.”

He breaks my head grip and rubs his lips to mine then arches his back as he rises on his elbows. His signature smile engulfs his face, looking strangely eerie in the filtered light cast by a thin cloud veiling the moon. His eyes twinkle as they look at me while the softened luminescence captures his tongue flicking his open silver tinted lips. He appears in a state of sheer rapturous pleasure, as if hypnotized from the effects of our love feast. He changes rhythm, almost stops, and withdraws to my inner sphincter walls. His hands flex their grips on my arms as he presses his groin towards me, pushing his love stick further into me, deliberately sliding his turgid cock head over my prostate, then back, then over again and again. I distinctly feel his knob rubbing my tingling gland as if it had a special attraction.

He rubs his swollen cock head along a membrane wall till his thick piston is embedded in me. He stops then slowly retreats in similar manner, sliding the head along another part of my lining, sensitizing another sector of his knob, and me. He again repeats the gentle plunging motion, rubbing a different side of his cock head along my membranes, each time fastidiously massaging my prostate, all in all magnifying his and my pleasures to extreme heights. He stops again, inhales deeply and flings his head back. He commences to pump me furiously, plunging and plowing wildly into me. No need to warn me now. I know he is about to cum. He grunts some noises on his harsh breathing. I hold his trembling arms. Finally, my will power deserts me.

“Rick, I’m cuming.”

In an instant my super-charged glans succumb to the acute pleasures of my dynamic, intense orgasm as the relieving release of my cum flows from my balls, floods my sperm tube and squirts out of me in a welcome torrent.

“Uuuhhh,” I exclaim, flinging my head sideways, clamping my eyes shut, grasping and digging my shaking hands into his shoulder flesh. I lurch as the burst of cum from my prone dick, lying against my belly, splatters a thick line over my chest to my neck.

Then Rick shouts those words I love to hear; “Aaahhh...Jus...Jus...JUSTIN!” as his hot cum ravishes the linings of my love cavern. I gaze at my lover, now arched high on his hands either side of me. His face is tossed back, but I momentarily glimpse the look of sheer voluptuous pleasure when he drops his panting head to his chest.

My tumescent dick twitches upwards, released from the clamp of his belly. It releases another volley, this time arching through the air, the pearly string appearing like a comet tail in the moonlight. “Aaahhhh,” I shout, clawing his arms in squirming delight.

“Jus...Jus...JUSTIN!” He repeats in his entranced state, continuing to slash his juices into me, thrusting relentlessly, firing one volley after another. “Jus, Jus. Oh god, Jus,” he stammers in his trembling, rapturous delight.

I fire another comet. Then a smaller one, and another. “Rick,” I croak concurrently as he jabbers his favorite saying to me again.

“Oh god, Justin,” he wheezes as he continues thrusting into me, treating me with his inflamed member, hot cum and happy words. The heat of his juices spreads through my body, sending acute twinges that enhance the already beatific, splendorous feelings, enthralling every nerve in me. He keeps thrusting into me but I know the pinnacle moment of our love bout has passed, know we are sharing the moments of post orgasmic bliss. He slows his piston movements as the flow of his hot cum reduces to a sporadic ooze, as his trembling subsides and he leisurely relaxes to his naturally graceful composure. His coarse breathing gradually abates, his wide blazing eyes return to their smiling gaze. He lowers to rest on his elbows, and rubs his finger tips on my shoulders.

My prostate works overtime as I spend the last of my cum, ejaculating every drop my balls have produced, feeling it ooze to my belly as my dick softens. In the lunar glow my chest appears patterned haphazardly with gleaming specks and globs and trails of my man juice. I’m too buggered to talk, too buggered to think. The enormity of our love fest has drained me leaving my mind incoherent, a deep well devoid of abilities yet overcome with stratospheric satisfaction. My muscles almost feel they lack power and motor control. I’m able to re-grip my legs around his thighs, preventing him from moving and retaining him in me; and I'm able to fold my arms around his neck. In our post orgasm silence I draw his face to mine, brushing my lips to his as he also hugs me, as his belly and chest lower onto the cushion of my love juices. In the prevailing ambience, I reflect: tonight we opened the doors to Nirvana.

We reached Paradise.

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