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Barry Lowe

Spunk Rats

Eleven tales of sex and obsession:

Spunk Rat (noun) (Australian slang): An attractive person (usually male).

Horny Aussie spunk rat Steve is always on the prowl for other hot and horny men for rugged one-on-one sex and group action in his pursuit of the elixir of life: manjuice. These eleven short adventures see him take on a negligent Mauritian building worker, a young twink he picks up in the gutter, the hottest man in the universe, a wank caller when he’s trying desperately to get to the airport, a nubile young sex worker on a fire escape, a porn star in a San Francisco cinema, a trainee chef with more than time on his hands, a young drug addict he meets in a sex shop, a gondolier who has a unique method of extracting payment, and an exhibitionist he meets under a streetlight. But when he brings home the man of his dreams only to be rejected in favour of his boy friend, Steve is reduced to voyeurism.

Spunk Rats was originally published by loveyoudivine Alterotica

eBook Cover Price: 0.99

Length: 120 pdf Pages / 20386 words

Gay, Group / Orgy / Menage, Drama

Heat rating: 4


Banished to the fire stairs for a cigarette in the middle of winter seemed like cruel and unusual punishment to me. But I had reckoned without Damian. My house proud and health conscious boyfriend, Toby, had unilaterally decreed there was to be no smoking in our apartment or even on the open air balcony. It shows you how much I was trying to make this relationship work that I agreed to take my filthy habit outside. But what seemed like an okay concession in hot summer months seemed suicidal in the depths of winter, and I had taken to smoking, strictly against the building rules, on the fire stairs in an effort to stay warm.

That’s where Damian had found me. The elevator was throwing one of its periodic temper tantrums and refused to budge off the eighth floor so my little smoker’s retreat was in danger of being over-run by a steady stream of cursing residents climbing or descending the stairs to street level. I returned their grumbles while cupping my guilty secret in my hand hoping they wouldn’t smell my illicit activity.

“Can I bum a fag, mate?” He startled me because I had not heard him coming up behind me. I was about to turn and tell him not likely with the cost of cigarettes these days and the government soaking smokers and drinkers for every penny they can get.

“Sure, mate.” I changed my mind and shook the packet until one or two bobbed out. He took one and I lit it with the end of mine.

“I owe ya,” he said.

Shit, this kid could owe me any time. Tall, almost six feet, yellow blond hair, probably from surfing or an outdoor job of some kind, slim but not scrawny, biceps that confirmed manual labor, and a sort of rugged, pretty face with lips you just want to slide your cock into.

“Damian,” he said after he blew the smoke out of his lungs from a satisfying first drag.

“Brad,” I told him.

“Tossed out of your apartment?” he asked, nodding up the stairs. .

I sneered. “Yeah. Boyfriend says the ash dirties the carpet. You?”

“Daddy don’t like kissing fag breath.”

If this kid had a daddy, it weren’t no familial relationship—it was more of the sugar variety.

“You work outside?”

“Uh huh,” he said.

“I noticed the arms.”

“Apprentice brickie. The pay’s shit. It’s why I have to supplement me wages.”

“Sugar daddy?”

“Uh huh.”

“Nice way to earn a living.” I didn’t know what to say. If I’d had visions of this twenty-something twink god being interested in a 5’7”, middle-aged, beer-gutted, billiard-ball headed slob then they had been well and truly shattered.

He took a long draw of the fag before he answered. “Helps that I’m a slut.”

I choked on a lungful of smoke.

“You got the necessaries?” he asked as he crushed the butt under foot.

I fished in my shorts’ pocket and brought out a condom and a sachet of lube. Be prepared was not just the Boy Scouts’ motto. I never said I was faithful to him upstairs.

Damian took out a mouth spray and gave his throat a coating. He pulled me over and kissed me. It tasted lemony.