Release Date: Mar 14, 2009
ISBN (10): 1-60370-655-0
Publisher: Torquere Press
Publisher Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&manufacturers_id=19&products_id=1844
Blurb: Eli is home from college, and looking for someone to keep him company besides his mom. When he answers an anonymous online ad, he thinks he might be losing his mind. That kind of thing is dangerous, but Eli has needs, and he just can't resist. He plans to meet his conquest in a park he knows from his childhood, but he might be getting more than he bargained for. Will Eli find just the thing to make his vacation perfect?
bleachers kessler park 930
The photos attached with the reply made Eli bite his lip. He wanted to lick the screen. Muscled chest, flat belly with pale brown fur streaking down the middle, a half-hard cock curled against one strong thigh. The guy was lying down in bed to take the shots. Eli wondered what it would be like to be lying there with him. He’d pillow his head on that thigh and draw that dick into his mouth. It would taste clean with a little salt at the tip, soft and warm at first, then swelling and hardening until his jaw ached from devouring it.
Kessler Park. Eli had played baseball there one summer as a kid but it was abandoned now, a fading patch of green between hollowed-out factories with broken windows and chained-up gates. He knew the bleachers there, too, nothing more than wood planks bolted onto steel scaffolding. The red, yellow, and blue paint had cracked and peeled in the sun, had been scoured away by the wind and rain, until only the hints of color remaining in the grooves of the wood were left to tell you where to sit.
Other people ended up behind the bleachers, not Eli. He wasn’t the kind to end up fumbling under some sun-warmed girl’s faded T-shirt down amid the crumbled paper cups, spilled soda, wind-tossed chip bags, and gravel-studded wads of old gum. Eli preferred the shadowed safety of the dugout, the musty-cool concrete infused with sweat and spit and hints of tobacco juice and piss.
He liked to crouch on the bench, watching the game over Jesse Aliston’s right shoulder, not too close but close enough to feel the heat of Jesse’s body radiating through his polyester uniform, close enough to smell his sweat and long to taste the wetness in the spikes of hair at the nape of his neck. Jesse Aliston, Pete Freeley, Johnny Mason… the names and faces were fixed in his mind, fading to sepia there just like in his yearbook, mementos of another life.
930 green jacket
Another life. Eli sent the message back. He was still hard, his cock trapped in the humid confines of his boxers and jeans. It could wait. Eli wasn’t taking the car, so he needed to leave now. He cleared his browser history and shut the computer down. Now, he needed his shoes, his jacket, and a lie for his parents. He shoved his phone in his back pocket, left his laundry half-folded, and took a deep breath.