Friday, January 29, 2016

Win a Dozen Roses

With Valentine's Day approaching, who wouldn't like to win a dozen roses?
The 13 authors who've joined together for Happy Homicides 2: Crimes of the Heart, have set up this contest to promote the launch of our new book, coming out February 14, though available for pre-order right now.
I'm delighted that the bundle includes a 14,000-word novella I wrote specifically for this anthology. It's called "For the Love of Dog" and brings a murder to the Chocolate Ear café in Stewart's Crossing, which readers of my golden retriever mystery series will recognize. It's a favorite hangout of my reformed hacker hero, Steve Levitan, and his crime-solving golden, Rochester. The café's owner is converting a space next door to a place where dogs and their humans can sip and dine together-- and what dog lover wouldn't like a place like that to go? (Even if there might be a chalk outline of a dead body on the floor...)
Follow this link to enter the contest:  

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Wasting Away on Hollywood Beach

Cloudless blue sky over the ocean
Walking toward Margaritaville

It was a gorgeous day today, so I drove over to Hollywood Beach to check out the new Margaritaville Resort. I wasn't about to pay $30 to park at the hotel so I drove down the beach a ways and found a spot in a public lot.

Colorful beach hut

I liked these brightly colored umbrellas
Pool waterfall
Margarita glass chandelier in the lobby
The flip top and pop top

More parrots!
Beachfront sign
Didn't get a chance to stop for a margarita, though

Friday, January 08, 2016

Brokeback Wildilfe Refuge, Part 2

“What the hail are you boys up to?”

Luke backed away from Cody’s ass, stumbling to pull up his own overalls as he faced the wrath of Mr. Booty himself. The man’s face, normally so composed and telegenic, was nearly apoplectic with rage. “You all are supposed to be watching the border, not fucking like goddamned rabbits!”

Cody fell backwards onto the sleeping bag and scrambled to pull his thermals back up. With the tent door open, Luke was quickly chilled through.

“Sorry, Mr. Booty,” Luke said. “We was watching, really. But there ain’t nobody coming out this way. Not a TV reporter or a po-lice. It’s like we don’t even matter.”

“Vigilance is essential,” Booty said. “You never know when they could swarm in on us with their SWAT teams in their Humvees.”

“I saw a birdwatcher a few hours ago,” Cody said, sitting up and facing Booty, his long johns cockeyed over his slim waist so that Luke could see a thin line of tender flesh between them and the ribbed white T-shirt. “He had them long-range binoculars, spying on us like we were some exhibit at the zoo.”

Cody’s overalls were still pooled at his feet, but he couldn’t get them up without standing, and there was no room in the tent for that.

“And you let him get away?” Booty demanded. “That calls for some punishment, boy. That and you all derelicting your duty out here.”

“Yes sir,” Cody and Luke said simultaneously.

“You, boy, get out there and patrol the perimeter,” Booty said to Luke. “And if you see anybody you come a running.”

Luke grabbing his shearling coat and stumbled out of the tent.

“What about me?” Cody asked.

“You need to learn who’s in charge around here,” Booty said. The sound of his zipper coming down sounded as loud as an airplane engine to Cody. With one meaty paw, Booty pulled his thick penis out and fisted himself a couple of times, moving the foreskin up and down. “Suck it boy. Suck it like you mean it.”

He leaned forward, his T-shirt riding up in back, and took Booty’s dick in his mouth. “It ain’t a toy there,” Booty commanded. “Show me you’re a real man and you know how to suck another real man’s dick.”

“Yes, sir,” Cody said, mumbling around the big sausage in his mouth. He relaxed his throat as much as he could and leaned forward, swallowing the older man down to the root. He sucked until he choked and tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

Booty whipped his belt out of his pants. Then he leaned over and shoved down the waistband of Cody’s thermals, exposing his ass to the cold air.

Whap! Booty’s belt stung against Cody’s ass. He tried to rear back but Booty had his head pressed down. Whap! The belt stung again and again as Booty fed his tube into Cody’s throat. “This’ll teach you a lesson, boy,” he said. “You want to be part of the Booty Militia, you play by my rules.”

Thursday, January 07, 2016

Brokeback Wildlife Refuge Part 1

“I forgot them damn snacks, but at least I remembered the condoms and the lube.” Cody smiled at his buddy Luke. They’d been out there at the Wildlife Refuge for hours by then, stuck at one of the sentinel posts near the highway, watching for the Feds to arrive.

“Long as you got your priorities straight,” Luke said.

Cody laughed. “Ain’t nothing straight about me, bud, lest it’s the barrel of my 20-gauge shotgun.”

Luke reached over and grabbed Cody’s stiff dick. “Dunno, bud. This here feels plenty straight and stiff to me.”

“Seems I just can’t quit you,” Cody said, as he leaned in to kiss Luke’s grizzled chin.

They were both just twenty-one years old, and they’d met two years before at the initial meeting of the Booty Militia, a group of men determined to safeguard their land, their weapons, and their right to suck dick. Cody had taken a special shine to Luke, because of his handsome face, his floppy dark hair, and all that plaid he wore.

Course, there was his dick, too, long and thin and able to hit just the right point at Cody’s prostate when they fucked. Even now, just with Luke’s flannel-clad arms around him, Cody felt that stirring in his guts that meant he was close to shooting off.

He scrambled in the pocket of his overalls for a condom and a bottle of lube, then unbuckled the bib and stood up in a hunched-over position, breaking the embrace with Luke. The overalls dropped to the floor of their tent, and then he pulled down his JCPenney thermals and bent over, presenting his smooth ass to Luke.

“Yeah, bud, gimme that booty,” Luke said. He spit out his wad of chewing tobacco and then hocked a lugie right into Cody’s rosebud. Then he leaned in and tongued the hole. “My favorite, tobacco-flavored ass.”

Cody leaned down and picked up his own Colt Combat Elite. The handle was smooth and cold, just like Luke’s dick until it warmed up inside Cody’s ass. He held the barrel up against his stiff dick, smelling the machine oil, his own sweat, and the tangy scent of Luke’s pre-cum.

“Pretend I’m that damn president in the Black House,” Cody whimpered, “and fuck me into oblivion, Luke.”