Jack Ladd
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It is indeed. But without giving too much away, I can assure you Oscar gets the help he needs. This is the first in the series that explores and develops his personal growth: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36126476-oscar-down-under Thanks for your feedback
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Thank you for the comments guys. Oscar is indeed closing off his feelings, and I agree, at another time and another place, perhaps he and Tim could be so much more. Unfortunately, before Oscar can realise he's in a bad place and change, he still needs to make a lot more mistakes. I'll be uploading a new story soon that continues his journey at university, so watch this space
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I should have told him the truth. That I loved him. Explained to Tim, the first man to make my heart soar inside my chest like a lone bird in the dead of night, that there was no wonder he didn’t “get me”. I should have told him that the kind of person who does the kind of things I’d done isn’t reasonable. Or understandable. Or normal. I should have told him that I was fucked-up, poisoned and lost. I should have explained, begged him to forgive me, that since my mum had left
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We could have gone around and around in circles. Trapped in a hopeless loop. Him demanding or begging for the truth. Me pulling more and more lies out of my arse in a desperate attempt to cover my tracks. The dire process repeating and repeating until one of us snaps or storms out or both. I could have told him I didn’t have my wallet on me. Or I didn’t have any ID full stop. Saddle up my high horse and get all indignant and offended. It’s not a legal requirement to carry any in this c
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I wish I could say I saw it coming. That, as my shoes crunched the gravel of Tim’s path, the ominous, sickening feeling wriggling around my gut became clear. That, before I crossed the point of no return, I realised what was waiting for me inside, and I turned and ran and cut my losses no matter how much I knew I would lose. But I didn’t. I did exactly what I’d told myself to do. I swallowed it down. Pushed the dread somewhere so deep and dark I lost it. Replaced it with starry-ey
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I had the same dream that night. Almost the same. It began like before. At home in the kitchen with my parents in their wedding outfits. Mum fussing over my black and gold suit, inexplicably back from whatever life she’d chosen over us like she’d never left at all. Dad fit and young and smiling again. In the blink of an eye, I was outside the same glitching church, its eerie spire twitching and jolting and piercing cloud. Down on the ground, like before, was the same faceless wedd
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The phone rang. Quiet and monotonous. A double-beat through the tiny speaker pressing against my ear. Two-trills of digital noise lasting less than a second each, but ominous. Ominous enough to make my heart beat hard. Hard and loud and heavy. It rang again and my palms grew sweaty; the rigid grey plastic of my phone turning slick and slippery. Tightening my grip, I rubbed my free hand against my joggers; blood pumping like a drum through the cartilage sandwiched between my head a
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You two are far too kind. And, if you're looking for a tale with less sex and more story, my full-length erotic book set in Australia, Oscar Down Under: Part One, is out now and I'm always looking for people to leave honest reviews on Goodreads/Amazon in exchange for a free copy!
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The moment I made it home, I dumped my bag on the floor, pulled off my blazer and yanked off my tie. Undoing the top two buttons of my white school shirt I threw myself onto my bed. Landed on the fading duvet on my stomach, bundled a pillow under my chest and propped myself up on my elbows so I could get at my phone. Successfully retrieved I unlocked it and reread Tim’s most recent message to me. Can‘t wait until Saturday sexy. We’re gonna have so much fun. The tingl
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The rest of the school day was uneventful. Other than my tedious, but thankfully brief altercation with James, lunch ended without a hitch. There were the usual looks when I walked past a group of lads or unzipped at the urinals to take a piss, but there were no problems. No jeers. No name-calling. No pushing or shoving or tripping or spitting. In fact, as the bell rang, loud and shrill through the old, stone corridors and grey, concrete quads, and I took a seat at the back of my next
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I slept like a log that night. Smack, bang out of it and on my way to dreamland within a minute of face-planting my pillow. No shower. No wank. I didn’t even check my phone. All I could do was throw off my clothes, crawl under my duvet and let my final thoughts and feelings of the day play out through my exhausted mind and body like a movie reel stripped apart, cut up and reassembled at random. The smell of Mr. Price on my skin. The buzz of my hole still tingling after its magnifi
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‘What shall we do now?’ I said. ‘That’s up to you,’ he said, stroking a stray stand of my hair back into place. His fingertips were hot against my forehead and a tingle spread out and around to the back of my head as he stroked. Then it blissfully rolled down my spine all the way to the soles of my feet. Our spoon session over, he was on top of me again. In between my legs like before. Both of us still naked on his oversized bed; our cocks soft but our muscled bodies hard. His abs
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Then my life changed. Mr. Price and I did, until only weeks ago, what I’d believed was only ever going to happen in my wildest of wet dreams. What I’d wanted him to do to me since I’d first laid eyes on him. What I’d thought about for years. In the classroom. On the sports field. Lying awake at night, beating myself off or simply staring at the grey ceiling, concocting steamy fantasies in my head. Farfetched little fictions to help me fall asleep. Stories to convince myself l
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We didn’t make it upstairs. Not right away. First there was the hallway. The same dark, narrow passage we’d walked through from the street just over half an hour ago. But this time we came from the living room. And this time a strong hand on the end of a stronger arm pushed me from behind, up against the wall. I hit the smooth, cold surface hard, but managed to get my hands up to brace myself just in time. My body thudded painlessly against brick and plaster and wallpaper as my shorts
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For a moment, he sat still. Said nothing. Did nothing. Just kept staring at me through his sexy brown eyes as my suggestion of a tour trailed off into the silence of his dark and empty house. It was in that moment, as memories of my past evaporated away, replaced by a ball-tingling present as powerful as his hairy legs open a metre away from my hands and mouth, I realised there could be an issue. A big issue. It had happened before, and like a complete idiot, I’d forgotten al
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Fizzing and foaming across my tongue, the beer was cold and delicious. It soothed my still burning throat as it poured into my stomach, mingling with whatever was left of the first gift Tim Price had given me that evening. ‘It’s a shit story,’ I said. ‘It can’t be that shit,’ he said, slumping back into his chair opposite me at the dining table. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ I said before taking a bigger sip to try and loosen the knots twisting tighter. ‘I mean it ain’t pretty.’
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Like most average towns in England, where I grew up was split into three. The good. The bad. And the mundane. James, my ginger twink, lived in the good. West and high on a hill where redundant old halls and stables had been converted into huge, red-brick homes complete with winding driveways and security gates. My father and I lived in the bad. A stretch of land to the east. On the outskirts. Bulldozed and flattened for mass-built housing. All with the same cheap, rust-coloured br
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He started like he meant to go on. Grabbing the front of my hair he pushed my head back. Firm but slow. In control. Dominating, but respectful. And only an inch, so my open mouth was at a better angle and I was looking where his eyes should be. It was hard to see them in the greys of the forest and the silhouette of inky black above. I could make out his shape. His legs and his torso. His shoulders. Darker where his clothes were, a few hues lighter where his skin was. I could see his
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The next five seconds were intense. The sun had set. The air was still and silent. A late evening chill had forced the rest of the park-goers home and condensed our breath into slow, steady, steaming plumes. My heart thumped. My palms were sweaty. In the purple of twilight, Tim Price and I were finally alone. Touching distance. Half of me loved it. Every nanosecond. Every shard of time chipping away. Every moment looking up at him. Over his swelling shorts, past his flat, str
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It’s easy to see that at eighteen I wasn't living a virtuous life. Like most teenagers I had my motives and kept them close to my chest. Trust and openness and honesty weren't my strong suits, but unlike most, if I acted on my vices, I didn't have a best friend or concerned parent to help. To bury me in guilt and shame or encouragement and advice until I learned a valuable life lesson and became a better person. I had no one. And as far as I was concerned, virtues were for the wea
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It's funny, really. Funny how frustrated I became over how little time I had to fuck James. How stressed I was that the condom was too small. How impatient I became after a minute of fumbling slippery latex before running downstairs to grab my own I'd stupidly left in the back pocket of my jeans. As I bit open the second packet, finally peeled the rubber down myself and lubed up, I could hear the seconds ticking away inside my head. With each stroke of my internal clock I knew I had le
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Over the years I’ve spent a lot of time watching men. Young, old, smooth, hairy. Large and small and average. African, Caucasian, Asian and Indian. Blond, brown, black, grey, red. I’ve watched their arms and chests, legs and backs. Muscled, skinny, toned, broad, fat and slender. Their necks, shoulders, chins, mouths, noses, ears. Their eyes. Their hands. Their feet. I’ve watched how they sit, how they stand, how they move. How they run and walk, jump and crouch, swim and sprint, s
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It was like he jumped into my arms in slow motion. First, I watched his eyes. Big and blue. Bluer under his thick, ginger locks. They locked onto mine as he leant against the door. Behind him a bright foyer opened into a chandelier-lit great room. His stare suited the place. It dazzled. But not like the architecture did. That dazzled in a different way. It was old and impressive. His eyes radiated excitement and youth. Mischief. Then they changed. In a flash. Something deep-s
