The first stop of my book tour was the Miami Book Fair. It was a giant affair that attracted dozens of authors and audiences in the hundreds. I did a solo reading event, then appeared on a panel along side Dennis Lehane and George Pelecanos, two giants of the genre. I felt like an interloper, but they were gracious and welcomed me as a peer. The Q and A session was lighthearted, and I bandied witticisms and critical insights with them for 90 minutes. The auditorium-sized crowd gave us a standing ovation at the end and flocked around each of us at the book signing table. It was a highlight of my professional life.
That evening, I sat at an ocean side Tiki Bar when a man slightly older than me took the next stool. He introduced himself as a fan and we started a pleasant conversation about books, mine in particular. The man -- Cole was his name -- was trim and almost luminescently tan. His hair was casually long and disheveled in the style of a surfer.
Out of the blue he said "You know, South Beach is famous for its gay nightlife. Have you ever made the scene?"
His slender fingers were manicured and dainty as they played atop my forearm. "Naw. I'm not into the club scene and the crowds."
His fingers disappeared and began to masterfully tease my thigh beneath the bar top. His grey eyes captured mine in a licentious leer as his moist tongue flicked his upper lip. I wondered if the protruding tongue was step two in the Gay Playbook, "Too bad. You would quickly gather a crowd there."
My cock began to stiffen and I did nothing to dissuade his attention as he continued, "Better yet, I would love to have you to myself. I would take that luscious body of yours and give you the time of your life." His fingers began to circle my swollen cock head. "I can say in all modesty that I have a splendid ass."
"In all modesty, you can say that?"
"Yes, Marc. I'm not bragging, merely repeating what men have said, too many for it to be untrue."
My cock was thrumming and I tried not to visibly squirm.
"I'm not doubting you, I just found it funny that you would say it that way." Cole made salacious sounds as I spoke. They were like randy purrs on a frequency that only a horn-dog could hear, subliminal signals that resonated with every nerve in my loins. I could feel a zillion ions in the space between us become charged with carnal electricity. Cole had reduced me to a horn-dog and I was in his thrall.
"Let's go," I said in a quivering gasp.
"Go where?"
"To my 18th floor room with ocean views," I stammered with the idiocy of a promotional pamphlet.
"Marc, the only view I'm interested in is your naked body and hard cock."
Using my backpack to conceal my hard-on, Cole and I scurried from the Tiki Bat to the elevators. Cole insisted we let the first elevator car go in hopes that we would have the next one to ourselves. We did, and when the door closed he moved in front of me and pressed himself to my groin. His ass felt lush and firm as he swaddled my cock between his cheeks and rocked it side to side. The elevator rushed us upward as ravenous blood engorged my cock, rising it within Cole's heavenly ass.
With a ding, the elevator came to a stop and the doors parted. We nearly broke into a trot down the hallway. Somehow, I retrieved my keycard and got the door open. Once inside, Cole threw his arms around me and our tongues were instantly locked in a winnowy, frantic dance. Our crotches joined in as my hands sought the bodacious plumpness of his ass. My fingers kneaded his flesh and pressed him more tightly. When we finally broke our kiss we were both panting for scarce breath.
He led me to the bedside as he deftly undid buttons and tossed my shirt aside. His mouth went to my nipple as his hands unfastened my pants. Gravity grabbed them and pulled them down. With one arm Cole held me close as his other hand gathered the tit he suckled. His slippery lips nibbled the nipple until it was hot with blood. His darting tongue soothed its fiery swelling. No one had every feasted on my nipple before. Strange jolts of pleasure shot through me as he chewed ravenously on the tender flesh.
Then Cole pushed me sprawling atop the mattress. Our eyes locked in a fevered stare as his hands wrenched off my jockeys. Then he tossed my kicks into the corner and stripped me of my socks. Only when he had me totally naked did his frenzy subside. His eyes made a slow survey of my body. They gaped at the sight. Leaning slightly forward, his hands rubbed my firm pecs. He moaned at their feel. My arms rose to meet him but he swatted them away.
"No," he admonished.
With slow grace, his fingertips traversed downward across my abs to the cradle of my crotch. My cock was hard and strained upward, but he would not touch it. Bending lower, he slowly inhaled the musk deeply into his lungs, then exhaled just as slowly, gently blowing tiny hot gusts over every inch of my throbbing manhood, letting me feel the heat of his passion. Finally, his fingertips traced across my cock as lightly as his breath. I writhed for more. He would not give it. Instead, he stood.
I could see the scheming behind his eyes as he gazed upon my flesh with the lecherous grin of a satyr. His shirt was tossed aside. His skin was burnt a perpetual bronze -- smooth, hairless, slightly fleshy. Deliberately, slowly, he unfastened his shorts and let them fall. Under them, he wore a golden, silky thong. Every inch of him was uniformly tan, indicating a nudist streak, and he was manscaped bare. His hard cock stretched the fabric taut.
His grin became wily as he slowly turned around revealing a perfect ass. The cheeks were sleek and bulbous, appearing voluptuous and firm, and were accented by the thong strap that disappeared into the deep cleft. Cole watched my reaction in the mirror as he made first one cheek, then the other dance, rising and jiggling in a licentious display of lewd dexterity. A forbidden thrill coursed through me.
"Like what you see?"
