Here’s the cover of BOBB. If you like m/m erotica you’ll enjoy this collection of stories. As I said in my last post, this anthology was edited by Kit Zheng and it’s a plethora of sexy stories, nicely written and edited. It bolted to number one on Torquere’s bestseller list for short fiction anthologies and it remains there today, over a year after it was published.
My story, Fuck Me… Please, involves Forrest, an ex-Marine, and Tyler, a U. S. Navy submariner. They meet in a bar in San Francisco and Forrest discovers a new side of himself, one he never imagined he might explore. The story examines Forrest’s concept of masculinity. Can a guy who plays a bottom role in bed still be considered a real “man”?
There’s nothing deceptive about Forrest. He is the story’s narrator and he doesn’t hold back when describing his feelings about sex or anything else. He’s blunt and forthright, and he is one my favorite characters I have ever created.
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I checked him out while he ordered a beer. He was my age, probably five-ten, a hundred and fifty pounds. He had what I call “pretty boy” features: a turned-up nose, dick-sucking lips, and high cheekbones. His eyelashes were long, like a girl’s, and when he blinked it was hard not to notice. His hair was dark, cut short on the sides, a bit of length on top. He turned his face toward mine, before I could swing my gaze, and our eyes met and he nodded. He said, “Hey.”
I said, “How’s it going?”
We made small talk, and for a swab he wasn’t such a bad guy. He told me his name was Tyler and I said my name was Forrest and when we shook his grip was firm. He was stationed on a nuclear submarine, he said, one presently in port. He’d been granted one week’s shore leave. He was from a small town in southern Illinois and this was his second visit to San Francisco. He’d taken a room not far from the tavern.
I asked what his hotel cost him and he said forty-eight per night, which included donuts and coffee in the morning.
He asked where I was staying and I said, “I’m screwed. I blew my last paycheck before I left Okinawa. Guess I’m on the street till I find temp work.”
He nodded and didn’t say anything. We ordered another round of beers and he turned toward me on his stool and he rested his feet on the stringers. He placed one forearm on the bar. He talked about serving on a submarine, how for months at a time he lived underwater with one hundred-ten other sailors. Everybody lived real close, he said, and they had to get along.
You know how some guys have an air of confidence about them? Tyler was like that. I mean, even though we were the same age and I was bigger than him, with a lot more muscle and broader shoulders, I felt like he was stronger and wiser than me. His voice was deep and he spoke good English, like a school teacher would, and he seemed to know a lot about important things: geography, current events, and so forth.
Copyright 2009 by Martin Delacroix
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This anthology is only available in e-Book format from Torquere Press. Here’s the link: