New Stories Alert!

Cover design by Johnny Murdoc

So here’s my little literary swindle: remember the story poll I ran a month or so back? Well, if you want to read the story about getting gang banged by a high school football team (it’s called “Athletic Supporter”) you have to pay for it – it’s included in my just-released ebook, Str8 But Curious.

I know, I’m a dick! But whatever, this is the new reality of things. If you pay the modest (but not too modest, think of it like purchasing a McDonald’s value meal that gives you an orgasm) $4.99 purchase price you will also get a second new story, and this one’s called “My Best Friend’s Boyfriend,” a title that should hopefully speak for itself, but there’s an excerpt below if you’re curious.

Str8 But Curious also includes a nonfiction introduction (which is probably the best thing in the book in my opinion) and a curated collection of my best straight-ish guy stories.

Please note that the book is currently only available on Amazon but in the next day or so I hope to have a pdf version available for those who don’t have one of those newfangled Kindle devices (people like me, in other words). I’ll let you know. In the meantime, read some of “My Best Friend’s Boyfriend” below.


My Best Friend’s Boyfriend

by Natty Soltesz

Nicole and I used to wait tables together when we were in college and we did a good job of remaining friends thereafter. We’d go out once a month or so with her crazy girlfriends to a karaoke night downtown. She was a party girl in college and she showed no signs of slowing down in her thirties.

It was at karaoke night that she introduced me to Dustin, her latest boyfriend.

“Hey, Nicole told me a lot about you,” he said, shaking my hand. He had a nice smile, a shaved head and a killer body, his t-shirt and pants filled out with rounded, smooth muscles. We made small talk before I headed off to sing “White Wedding.” When I was done, Nicole pulled me off to the side.

“He’s in fucking med school,” she said, wide eyed.

“Seems younger.”

“Twenty fucking five,” she said. “Score of the century, Daniel.”

“He smells great too,” I said. Nicole slurped down the dregs of her gin and tonic and reached for the fresh one on the table.

“His body…” she said, leaning into me and spilling a little of her drink on the floor. She bunched her fingertips and kissed them off. “Not an ounce of body fat on him, totally smooth, you could lick him head to toe like a fucking ice cream cone. And I do, Daniel, believe me, I do.”

We looked at him across the room, ordering us another round at the bar. “Great ass,” I said, admiring the plumped-out rear of his shorts.

“Grabbing on to that thing, all muscled…and his cock – it’s not the biggest one I’ve ever seen, but it is by far the nicest. It’s fat, you know? It’s like the cardboard tube inside a roll of toilet paper. Uncut…oh my god, we have to stop talking about this!”

“Sweet Jesus,” I said, nursing the mental image. Just then he turned and saw us staring at him. “He totally knows we’re talking about him.”

“I am gonna fuck the life out of that boy tonight,” Nicole said, licking her lips. Dustin blushed adorably and looked down at the bar, and Nicole and I laughed like the horny little beasts we were.

Over the next few months I got to know Dustin and, pleasingly, found that I had a genuine connection with the guy. He had a laid-back intelligence that resulted in deep philosophical conversations, or at least as deep as you can get when you’re drunk at the bar. Karaoke nights often resulted in the two of us off by ourselves, shooting the shit while Nicole and the girls did their best Journey and Alanis homages.

Next month Dustin showed up to karaoke after Nicole and I had arrived. There was clearly some tension between them, but Dustin was cool with me.

“Got a boyfriend?” he asked, relaxing against the back of the booth. He was wearing a tank top and his shoulders were looking delectable.

“Not for a year,” I said. “Men are such bitches. I can’t find anybody real.” He looked off to the side to where Nicole was leafing through the karaoke book.

“Realness is in short supply these days,” he said, and tipped back his beer.

Dustin ordered us a bunch of shots, and when it came time I realized I wasn’t able to drive home. Nicole said I could crash at her place, so when the bar closed we walked the few blocks to her apartment. Dustin was with us, and the silence between them was icy.

“You need a blanket? Anything else?” Nicole slurred once we got there. “I’m good,” I said, fluffing the couch pillow. “I’m just gonna pass out for a few hours, I’ll probably take off before you wake up.” She bid me goodnight and joined Dustin in her bedroom.

I awoke sometime later to someone snapping on the kitchen light, then cracking open a can of beer. I turned around and saw Dustin leaning against the oven, wearing pajama pants and nothing else.

“Go back to sleep man. Sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s cool,” I said. My hangover was already kicking in. “I need water,” I said. “What time is it?”

“Five something,” Dustin said. He handed me a glass of water and laid down on the love seat opposite the couch.

“Thanks,” I said, sitting up to drink it. “Nicole sleeping?” Dustin gulped his beer then rested the can on his sculpted chest.

“She took off,” he said. “We had a fight.”

“Shit,” I said. “I guess I slept through it. That’s too bad.” He shrugged.

“She’s probably off fucking Mike. Or anybody, really.” I didn’t say anything. “It’s cool man, I know you know.” I took a moment to process this.

“Does she know you know?”

“Probably.” He turned to me. “I could give a shit either way.” We drank our drinks. I listened to the creak and hum of the apartment. “She admitted to fucking Mike but I know there’s more.”

“I’m sorry man.”

“Not your fault, you’re just being a good friend.”

“I wish it were different. I have a lot of respect for you.”

“I know you do,” he said. He rested his left hand on his abs. “I should just leave her, right?” I nodded. “And in the meantime, fuck whoever I want.”

“Seems fair,” I said.

“Find some willing chick.” He took a gulp of beer and ah’d. “Or a dude for that matter.”

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