About Toy Box: Guiche

by Lee Benoit, Mychael Black, and Jay Lygon
36 pages / 14000 words
ISBN-13: 978-1-60370-740-4
ISBN-10: 1-60370-740-9
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc, epub, Sony-optimized pdf

Ah, the guiche piercing, that tiny, hidden surprise behind a man's balls. What could be better than three stories that celebrate the guiche? In Reading the River by Jay Lygon, the narrator is working on a boat on the Mississippi. His roommate Billy, or Bear as he privately calls the man, is a tough guy he's more than a little attracted to. When he and Billy finally get together, one of them has a little surprise for the other. 

Mychael Black gives us After the Show, starting drummer Chaz, who's into body modification. In fact he's just gotten a new tattoo when he meets Devin. With a fancy car and even fancier apartment, Devin is quite the catch. Will he think the same of Chaz, even after he's seen what the drummer has hidden away? And finally, Preston and Paulo are back in Bearing Witness by Lee Benoit. When the duo witness the end of a contract between Tasim and Jesse, Paulo begins to worry about his own place with Preston. Will his contract with Preston will eventually go the same way? Preston will need to come up with something special to reassure his lover of his place in 
Preston's life. His permanent place.

Sample

Reading the River
By Jay Lygon

Old Man River. The Gathering of Waters. Moon River. The Mississippi had a bunch of nicknames, but to my recollection, none of them warned me about the moldy basement and fish stink of the water. Seven days into my twenty-eight day shift on the tow Ginny Beam, I still hadn’t gotten used to that smell, which had me thinking maybe life on the river wasn’t for me. The other thing that had me convinced I’d made "a poor career choice," as my tech school guidance counselor would have put it, was a crewmember so massive it was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that his name was Billy.

Sure, there were grown men in my hometown who still went by the name Billy, but they were pasty white, with beer guts and mean eyes. I couldn’t reconcile that with brown eyes always crinkled up in a smile, thick black chest hair so wild that it tried to climb out of a tight T-shirt, or faded jeans that showed the outline of a left hanging, mouth-watering package. So I kept mentally substituting names that I felt fit co-worker Billy better. The only nickname that seemed to suit him was Bear, and I wasn’t about call him that until I got a better feel for how things stood between us.

It was bad enough that I was lusting after him, but to make matters worse, Billy was my cabin mate. At night, his breath never fell out of its regular deep cadence as I quietly jerked off, but it seemed like he had to know what I was doing. I sure heard it when he pumped away under his sheets, although I took pains to lie still and not let him know my cock was aching for his fist.

Daytime wasn’t much better. Our quarters were so small you couldn’t cuss at the proverbial cat without getting fur in your mouth, and there was no way to move around it without bumping against Billy’s huge, hairy, solid, muscled, hot body. Ever since I’d come aboard, I hadn’t been able to meet Billy’s eyes, but it sure seemed as if every other part of me had rubbed against him, on account of our quarters being so close, and me not trying very hard to avoid him.

Other than the four of us deck hands, there was only the captain and mom -- not my mother, but the cook -- and the wheelman on board. Me and Billy worked the twelve-hour day shift. The two other deck hands worked the back watch at night. Considering that the fifteen-barge tow was as long as a football field, two deck hands could go all shift without being near enough to talk, which suited me just fine. When Billy was near, my gaze would drift to his big silver belt buckle and on down to the outline of his cock pressing against his tight jeans. My thoughts would turn to naked wrestling and I’d sort of lose track of the conversation. He probably thought I was a little retarded.

All day long, we’d been sueging the boat, which was river talk for swabbing the deck. That didn’t mean just mops and pails. We also had to tend the lines that secured the fifteen barges to the tow that pushed them along the river. But mostly sueg meant scrubbing bird shit and doing general maintenance under an unforgiving sun in near hundred percent humidity.

Toward the end of shift, I picked up the pneumatic needle gun and went to work chipping a patch of rust on one of the barges. Even with my ear protectors on, the chipper made an awful racket. My bones rattled with the vibration. I had to clamp my jaw tight so my teeth wouldn’t clack together. I’d seen Billy work a rust spot for twenty minutes straight, but after ten, I had to turn off the chipper. Dark patches of sweat circled under my pits and in a solid stripe down the center of my chest. As I wiped my brow with the hem of my T-shirt, Billy sauntered over, leaned against a container, and watched me with a smug smile. His lips moved.

I pulled off my ear protectors. "What?"

"Makes your titties bounce, don’t it?"