Sendraguy
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‘It’s crap. You must do better’ Roberto closed his laptop and looked at Greene, ‘You don’t understand. This needs analysis. I need evidence for each side of the argument; why animals have to be tortured for the sake of scientific research, and, conversely, why that position is intolerable, unacceptable’ Greene looked winded. It was bruising enough that his first foray into studying the media had been so comprehensively rubbished, but the humiliation felt all the worse, coming from a man
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Kris sat down at his desk, catching sight of himself in one of the many mirrors that adorned his office, ‘In some lights I look rather like Michael Caine’ he mused. It’s doubtful Michael Caine would have derived any comfort from that. Just then Miss Haggard knocked on the door in timid, genteel fashion. ‘Come in’ She bustled in, the tea tray welded to her stomach, making her look like a cinema usherette of the 1950s. ‘What would you like today, Mr Karton? Chef tells me the sausage
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Kris’s head was spinning with excitement as he sat down at his laptop. The first message received was from someone still online. Their profile name was one of those made up of punctuation marks and letters, the message read, ‘Hi. You up for it, in half an hour?’ Kris puffed in disgust, then typed frantically, his bony fingers hammering on the keys like tiny, demented woodpeckers, ‘tempted as I am by your exciting offer, I work in a fish gutting plant in Grimsby, and by the time I get ho
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'Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it' This is Kris Karton's dictum, and he dreams of a small spot in Spain and a hot, horny Spaniard to fill it. But karma gives Kris exactly what he deserves: a wry, and sometimes bitter-sweet view of gay life in Manchester.
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With less than an hour to go before the raid, Police HQ was buzzing. The various commands, gold, silver and bronze held mini briefings, officers tested their equipment, and everywhere bundles of maps and instructions lay scattered. But Malcolm felt rather out of it; yes, he who’d brought all this about! Without his artful mind they could never have figured out what the crooked magistrate had been up to; without his foresight in copying her records they’d have no evidence. But it was a mistake to
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Rupert was still trembling as the car sped away from the shop. He could not know where they were headed but the route seemed to suggest it was Baggett Manor. More than once Rupert caught sight in the rear view mirror of Freddy Scrope’s venomous eyes as they met his, and he had to look away. Shortly, their route would be taking them over the canal; he knew he’d get one shot at losing the mobile. Carefully, he edged the phone out of his left side jeans pocket. He needed to wind down the rear w
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‘You’d better answer it’ Colin’s tone was uncompromising. Lorimar didn’t want to get the door, and when he opened it he took only seconds to recognise the pale figure of Rupert, and recall the day he’d seen both Colin and him at the sauna. The visitor looked Lorimar up and down contemptuously, ‘I need to see my brother’ Lorimar was shocked at the revelation but said nothing and turned, leading the way in; Rupert moved swiftly past him into the bedroom. Colin was hurriedly dressing, b
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Rupert was stunned. The news he’d just overheard was literally incomprehensible. It was one thing to discover his father had another child, but that he, Rupert, had come to know that son - and so intimately – well, that was pretty overwhelming stuff. Three times he tried to call Colin, but without success. Finally he texted, ‘Hi Col. Are you OK? I’m so worried for you. Please get back to me’ Rupert sat down on the bed and awaited a reply, but none came. He gazed abstractedly around Malcolm
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Malcolm ‘The Truth at Last’ Rupert and Colin drove into the city, grabbed a burger and fries and considered what to do next. They decided to wait until Colin’s Mum and Nan were in bed before showing up at home, so that meant hours of aimless driving around. Rupert had nothing to say and seemed abstracted. When Colin asked him what they should do about the car he just shrugged. The Blenkinsops lived in one of the rougher parts of town and Rupert’s Range Rover was worth more than every oth
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Malcolm ‘A Boy’s Best Friend’ Colin remained pretty cool as they drove into the courtyard of Baggett Manor. Rupert parked up and jumped from the Range Rover. ‘Where’s your aunt today?’ Colin asked ‘Oh she’s up in Northumberland for a few days, shooting pheasants and slaying wildlife generally’ Colin detected that Rupert was scoffing at his aunt but he wasn’t wasting too much emotion on the animals either. They entered the house through a heavy ancient door into an intensely da
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Malcolm ‘An Odd Couple’ Rupert had never felt anything like it. His only previous sexual experiences comprised knocking as much seed out of himself as he could, as often as possible. This usually had the effect of a quick hit and a mildly sore shaft. Now he was feeling altogether different. The bare wooden slats of the bench pressed on an area between his anus and scrotum that he’d completely overlooked. It was now buzzing, contracting, swamping him with delicious sensations as Colin stea
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MALCOLM ‘Boys will be Boys’ Dave Heinz was one of Malcolm’s friends from university days, and they’d kept in touch ever since. Their relationship was the attraction of opposites; Malcolm had achieved little, Dave had done great things, and claimed to have circumnavigated the globe several times. But now Dave was coming home, retiring to his native Yorkshire, and he felt it was high time he paid his old friend a visit. When his guest arrived and parked up Malcolm couldn’t contain his ex
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MALCOLM ‘A First Time for Everything’ Malcolm’s friend Roy held the teacup to his lips, paused and gazed into the steaming beverage. He analysed it, as would a wine taster. Yes, there were notes of dairy, chlorine and damp cloth but strangely nothing suggesting tea. ‘Bloody ‘ell, Malcolm, ‘ow many times ‘ave you used this poor soddin’ tea bag?’ ‘Well they make the teabags too strong, don’t they?’ whined Malcolm. Roy put down the cup in disgust, and looked at his old
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MALCOLM’S big day out. Malcolm put down the binoculars and wiped the sweat from his brow. His garden backed onto the sports field of the local boys’ school - a great comfort to him - but today had been too much. The sight of all those muscular 16 year-olds tearing around with a rugby ball had upset his equilibrium. His hands were still shaking when the phone rang. It was the building society. ‘Hello. Is that Mr Malcolm Tripp? This is Terry Rowbottom from Yorkshire Friends of Mutual Gr
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Chapter 2 Charity stays at home The waiter cleared away the dirty dishes, Roy patted his substantial stomach. 'Ee, bah 'eck, Aa dooo luv a tasty meal' he said lapsing into his Yorkshire monotone. Malcolm surveyed his old school chum across the dining table. Both men had reached that awkward point, encountered a million times a day all over Yorkshire: who's going to settle the bill? The waiter gazed impassively. He came from Newcastle, where people spend more on drink and enter
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Colin's just an ordinary kid, except that he's gay and sells his body for a living. But when he bumps into the cheapest guy in Yorkshire his future changes. Fun and frolics involving a cast of ludicrous characters.
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Malcolm glanced down at the kitchen table where his favourite magazine Young and Horsehung lay open. He flicked casually through the serried, fleshy delights, until a vague stirring in his pyjamas signalled that it was time to break from this penile perusal, and have breakfast. Unpeeling his banana, the old Yorkshire man reflected on how much his life had changed recently; he was now free! Free, but not at ease! Malcolm had been devastated by his parents’ shock decision to quit the family hom
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First, I'm not on commission to them, but for those of you who are dead keen on this check out www.Ancestry.com. You get the first fourteen days free, usually enough time to hammer the US censuses and find out if your gt grandfather is Al Capone....
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Oooer. If I tried giving a ticket on the M25 I'd have 10,000 cars up my ass before I could get my pen out, LOL. I love Brock Glasscock, but I reckon I could see through him! Loved this sweet little opener. You have to sequel Leo and Brock......
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Started reading this and coundn't stop till I got to the end. Despite the challenging subject matter it's sooooo readable, and accessible, and before long I felt like I'd known the characters for years. Well worth reading for so many reasons.
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Chapter 10 - The Chaosphere
Sendraguy commented on Kavrik's story chapter in Chapter 10 - The Chaosphere
I couldn't agree more; a sequel is most certainly required. Loved the carnage in this. I live close to the scene of a battle ( Towton, 1461, Wars of the Roses) said to be one of the most horrendous scenes of bloodletting in history, skulls crushed with halbards, bodies hacked about, then strung up on trees, and the Towton burn running red with blood for the whole Easter weekend. Lovely. It seemed like you were there! I hope Kian is going to taste the testosterone of his lover and boys quite soon. great work! (( Is this a typo?? “I just don’t want you risking your head is all.” 'that's all )) -
Chapter 9 - The Necropolis of Hurlothrumbo
Sendraguy commented on Kavrik's story chapter in Chapter 9 - The Necropolis of Hurlothrumbo
'....scrotum dangling with the weight of heavy balls that nurtured a future Atlantean boy' Mmm. No disrespect to earlier chapters but I feel that your style is positively flowing now ( or maybe it's me trying to catch up with you!) At any rate you have created the world you sought and it's captivating and fearsome all at the same time. The necropolis' description was polished and breathtaking! -
I'd heard of others coming unstuck with internet dating but I was too smart for that. Or so I thought.
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What I did next does me no credit at all. I wasn’t online then; few people were; and, like me, they used those Internet cafés which have largely passed into history. The place I used was located in a Victorian shopping arcade in the heart of the city, and sat between a sandwich shop and a cosmetics store; I can’t bring it to mind without recalling the aromas of chicken tikka and bath bombs, and to access the shop I’d usually have to step over a Big Issue seller or a busker. I minded nei
