About Toy Box: Public Places

with stories by Heidi Champa, Jay Lygon and G.R.Richards
47 pages / 11700 words
ISBN: 978-1-61040-051-0
Ebook zipped file contains - html, lit, Adobe and Sony optimized pdf, prc, epub

There's nothing like having sex in a public, or semi-public place, to really ramp up the excitement. In The Touch of Nostalgia by Heidi Champa, an old-school concert at a tiny club proves more than just a trip down memory lane, when a man finds his perfect punk rock fantasy guy standing behind the bar.

Next up is Poke on the Water by GR Richards. Theo only joined his friends at a cottage retreat to get next to Afi, but Juan's been cock-blocking him all week. When Theo, Afi, and Juan end up together in a canoe, there's nowhere to hide, and Theo can't keep his crush to himself any longer. Finally, there's Brat by Jay Lygon. Sam and Hector of the Chaos Magic trilogy are back, and Sam's playing the brat for all it's worth after a long separation. Hector finally takes him in hand, in a very public setting, giving Sam the attention and kink he's been craving.

Sample

From: Brat by Jay Lygon

My butt was numb, and not for any good reason.

When I got home from a three-week location shoot, Hector said, "You've been working too hard, Sam, let's go camping for a couple days." He was right, before my crew started filming my new movie, I'd done red carpet interviews at the Oscars -- which meant a week of intense prep work - and before that, my movie review TV show did a couple pre-Oscar specials, so we'd barely seen each other for over a month. Going that long without my Master, or sex, had me keyed up in all kinds of bad ways. Three days of non-stop sex and serious kink sounded wonderful, so even though I was exhausted, I happily climbed into his truck.

That was six hours ago.

Since he was the God of Love, and I was the God of Sex -- long story, just have faith that I'm not crazy when I say that -- I figured we'd use our God powers to phase to some secluded valley high in the Rocky Mountains. Even a cabin in the California mountain resort town of Big Bear would have been fine since it was only a two-hour drive from Long Beach where we lived. Instead of phasing or heading due east, though, we drove north out of the Los Angeles metro area, over the Grapevine Pass, and descended into the Central Valley in California.

Hector drove his vintage truck down a four-lane highway that didn't curve for miles. Sure, the Central Valley was America's breadbasket, but damn, it was ugly. Imagine Kansas ironed flat and then bleached so that all the color faded, only not that pretty. After six hours of driving, I was bored as hell, antsy, and as I mentioned, my butt was numb.

My Master was so damn hot. He was a burly Mexican muscle bear with close cropped black hair and big brown eyes that could crinkle up real nice when he smiled at me, or get hard as nails when I got out of line. As long as I behaved and followed his rules, he was the sweetest Papi on earth. That is, until he took me into the dungeon in his converted garage. Then, oh man. He was the toughest Master on earth. Thinking about him binding me to his St. Andrew's cross and whipping my shoulders got me hard in seconds. I cleared my throat and adjusted my package.

His hand shot out and gripped my wrist. His eyes were still on the road. "What do you think you're doing, Boy?"

"Just getting comfortable, Sir."

"That cock is mine, Boy. You don't play with yourself unless I tell you to." He let go of my wrist.