tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7174521196262542902024-02-07T12:29:18.089-08:00BlogJ. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-20343970557929723922011-09-24T11:28:00.000-07:002011-09-24T11:28:01.240-07:00Excerpt - Little Boy Lost: Discovered (Coming October 17th from Dreamspinner Press)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/images/cover_images/Discovered.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" src="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/images/cover_images/Discovered.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Copyright 2011 (c) - J. P. Barnaby<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><em>This excerpt is from the fourth Little Boy Lost book - Discovered.</em></span><br />
<hr /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">CHAPTER ONE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">My name is James Daryl Mayfield, and I am in hell.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Frequently while I was growing up, my mother told me that God was the sole author of vengeance and judgment. Sinners would face their moment of truth when they stood before the throne. I always thought that would come after death, but as I stood looking into Brian’s horrified eyes, I wondered if maybe my judgment had arrived. The blood drained from his face, leaving him shaken and pale, and the pain I saw there nearly brought me to my knees. As he turned and fled, I caught myself just as my feet tried to follow. A whimper escaped my lips, still parted in shock, and in an unconscious attempt to be close to him, my body swayed toward the empty spot where he had been. For a moment, I tried to tell myself that it was the E, an ecstasy-induced hallucination. Sometimes I got those when Steven let me snort it instead of taking the pills. Then one of the other guys went after Brian, and I knew that it was all real.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You okay, Dylan?” Steven O’Dell asked me from somewhere vaguely off to my left, and I felt his hand on my arm. Turning a little, I glanced at him, catching the cold look in his dark eyes. He pushed a strand of long hair, black as onyx, behind his ear from where it had fallen from a loose rubber band. I knew that the concern he faked for everyone else only partially masked the anger and jealousy that I could see all too clearly. I’d heard that a regular coke habit tended to make people paranoid. In Steven’s case, it also made him a mean, violent son of a bitch. With him as my manager—I refused to think of him as my boyfriend—I got to fuck a line of strange men for money that he took for my “expenses,” like rent, food, and drugs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m fine,” I assured him, trying for the first time in months to throw off the effect of the drugs clouding my brain. I had to think clearly because I knew that look in Steven’s eyes. “I just turned too fast is all, and got a little twinge in my back. I’ll be fine in a minute.” It was a plausible excuse because he’d just bruised the fuck out of my back and given me a black eye before we’d gotten to the studio because he thought I’d embarrassed him at the gym. I hated that all of the bruises would be noticeable once I took off my shirt. I didn’t want to be the object of anyone’s pity—least of all Brian’s.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Steven nodded and took a step forward. Instinctively, I cringed back, but he just put his arms around me, rubbing my back lightly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m sorry,” he told me quietly. He was always fucking sorry.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">An awkward silence permeated the room as its inhabitants looked anywhere but at Steven and me. We waited for several minutes while Brian hid his shock and disgust in the bathroom next door. More than anything, I wished I could go to him, hold him, explain, but I couldn’t. There was nothing to explain. He had seen the brutal truth clearly written in the drugs and the black eye. With Steven right beside me, I didn’t dare risk speaking to Brian or even looking at him. Steven’s jealousy raged whether he had a reason to be upset or not. I refused to give him a reason to hurt anyone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">After a few agonizing minutes, a toilet flushed, and the door to the bathroom opened. Whispers in the hall played at the edges of my hearing, but when the voices stopped, Brian emerged, followed closely by the brown-haired guy who’d followed him out of the room. Anyone else would have mistaken Brian’s appearance for nerves, believed that the revulsion in his face was self-directed for what he was about to do, but I knew that it was all for me. As I stood in Steven’s arms, my eyes met Brian’s, and I saw no love in them. They held only contempt for me, seeing what I had become, watching me stand in someone else’s arms.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I felt the same contempt for myself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Scott, are you in or not, man?” Nick asked Brian, his voice betraying his frustration. “Jesus Christ, I don’t need this shit.” The last part, the quiet muttering, didn’t seem to reach Brian or the other guy, Corey. The hit Steven had given me for the shoot started to kick in more, and despite my misery, I felt happy again. He never gave me enough to get a good, strong high because I still had to fuck. I got the good dose only after he got paid. Well, unless I pissed him off for some reason; then he wouldn’t give me anything. For those nights, I had a very small stash that I’d been accumulating by taking small bits from his shit. I had a little coke, a little E, some weed, whatever I could find. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m fine. I’m in,” Brian assured him, but his voice sounded hoarse and weak, as if he’d swallowed broken glass. Corey whispered something in his ear and Brian nodded. Then he kissed Brian’s temple. The sweet gesture spoke of an intimacy between them that tore at my heart. It was obvious that they were more than just simple friends, and the realization cut so deep that I had to keep from wrapping my arms around myself to hold in the torrent of pain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i> Brian!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I wanted to rip that guy’s stupid fucking head off because he was able to touch Brian and I wasn’t. Goddamn it, I would have given anything just to hold him, but I was Steven’s boy. If he had any idea how much I loved Brian, he would do anything to keep me. He might even kill Brian. Instead of going to Brian as I wanted to, I just closed my eyes and rested my head on Steven’s shoulder, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Steven had his moments of tenderness because somewhere, deeply buried under the hate and abuse, he did care about me. When his hand came up to stroke my face, I knew it was one of those times. I felt so desperately alone that I would take his affection. It was better than his fists.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Hey,” Nick said, and at first, I thought he was speaking to me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah?” As usual, Steven answered for us. There were days both on set and off that I could go nearly the entire twenty-four-hour period without speaking. I wondered a few times if my voice would simply stop working from lack of use. My mouth was meant for fucking, not for talking.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“That black eye you gave him seems to be blooming nicely. Can I guess that there are more bruises on his back and shit?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I stared at the ground. They often spoke about me as if I weren’t there or as if I were stupid. They couldn’t know that over the past two years of incarceration, both with Steven and at the Center, I’d spent most of my time reading. I’d always loved to read, to lose myself in someone else’s life. Never before had I needed that as much as I did lately. They had a reasonably <a href="http://www.blogger.com/" name="OLE_LINK2"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" name="OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;">well-stocked little library</span></a> at the Center, just like at a real prison. With Steven, we lived just a few stops from the library. Since Steven didn’t allow me out of the apartment at night, I had a lot of free time. Lately, I’d found that I truly enjoyed the classics.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Our shit is none of your fucking business!” Steven yelled and pulled me to him so tightly that I cried out in pain. Nick refused to be outdone, so he got right up in Steven’s face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“The site is about guys who fuck, not guys who go ten rounds with Tyson. If you want to keep him working, this shit stops now!” Nick rubbed his temples for a long moment and then spoke to the room at large.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Okay, if you’re not working a camera or getting naked, get the fuck out. And someone send <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Taylor</place></city> up to fix Dylan’s fucking face.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I stood there with my head bowed, feeling completely humiliated. I didn’t care what they said about me. I’d lost my shame months ago. What bugged me was that they said it in front of Brian. I couldn’t stand to consider what he must think of me. The yelling back and forth started to kill my buzz, and I wished Steven had given me a bigger fucking hit. I didn’t want to deal with this shit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m going to wait in the other room for <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Taylor</place></city>,” I mumbled to nobody in particular and turned to leave with the others who were filing out. From behind me, I heard Corey stop Brian from following. To be honest, it surprised me that he wanted to talk to me at all, but I just couldn’t face him right then.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">So, instead, I went into the green room and crawled gingerly onto the bed’s plaid blanket, trying not to think. My legs bounced restlessly, and it felt as if my heart would explode as I waited for Alex. I wanted to pace, to bounce off the fucking walls, but my back was killing me. Of course, the thoughts came anyway, further killing what little buzz I’d managed to get from the E. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">My eyes did not leave him as he lay crumpled in our yard. I considered begging my parents to turn around, but I knew it would be no use. The preacher had been to our home more than a dozen times, trying to change my mind about Brian. He practically begged me to repent my sins. Had I known then what my mother was planning, I would have done whatever he wanted—paid whatever lip service they wanted—in order to stay with Brian. He was my whole world, and I would never forgive myself for my prideful rebellion. It had started a veritable avalanche of consequences—consequences that led to me being an addict and my sweet Brian to sell his body in porn.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The tears that started with his tortured scream continued until we left the state of <state w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Alabama</place></state>. For those first few hours, I allowed myself the luxury of succumbing to the grief, and then I needed a plan. As my mother continued to babble about how great our lives would be in <place w:st="on"><state w:st="on">California</state></place>, I noticed that my father continued to glance back at me in the rearview mirror. Our eyes met a few times, and the sadness in his somehow surprised me. I had thought he was on board with the idea of ruining my life, but maybe not. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">After grief finally gave way to exhaustion, I closed my eyes and thought about my Brian. I had loved him in one way or another since we were just kids. Back then, he’d been the brother I’d always wanted. We shared everything, and I remembered thanking God in my prayers for giving me someone to talk to. My father had always been at work making a name for himself, and my mother had her causes. It was a lonely way to grow up—until I met Brian McAllister. The first time I saw Brian was his very first day at Crayford Elementary. We were in sixth grade and nearing the end of the school year. I was already twelve, but Brian wouldn’t turn twelve until August. When Mrs. Schultz, our grade school principal, walked him into class, he reminded me of the angels in Mama’s Bible. Mostly, it was his curly hair, but over the years, I found many things about Brian that made me wonder if he really was an angel. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He had always been my angel.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">That night, that last beautiful night I held him in my arms, was the last time I had been happy. Even nearly two years later, I could still remember every touch, every whisper in the dark, every promise. That night, that experience changed my life. It made me want to be a better man, to take care of Brian the way that he should have been cared for his whole life. I wanted to go to college and get a great job so that I could be everything he needed. I never knew that I had that kind of capacity to love anyone else. Since we’d found our love for each other, there was so much I’d learned about myself.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">For the first day we were on the road, I could still feel Brian’s quiet, desperate kisses as we stood in the rain. His body had trembled as I held him, and for a brief moment, I hated my mother. I knew it was a sin, but I couldn’t help it because she had hurt someone I loved. She was my mother—why could she not understand that I needed him? Brian was the other half of my soul, just like I guess Dad was her other half. If their love was okay, how could they condemn my love for Brian? </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">For the next four days, I held my grief and my love in my heart, not sharing it, not even speaking to my parents though they tried countless times to engage me. I just wanted to get where we were going so that I could e-mail Brian and start figuring out a way for us to continue our plans for college. I had no intention of listening to my mother or her cultish tyranny once I graduated high school.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Only, I never got the chance to graduate high school.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The night she told me about the Center, with my father staring studiously at the blank tabletop, I finally understood that she cared more about God than she did about me. The realization was sobering. When I told her that there was nothing about my love for Brian that I needed or wanted to cure, she just smiled. It seemed she had already passed the point of slapping the sin from me.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Instead, she used the only weapon she could—she used Brian.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“We should call someone because Richard must be molesting that boy to make him a homosexual,” she reasoned. I noticed that at some point, Brian had ceased to have a name. “That boy tried to corrupt you too, but I’m not going to let it happen.” </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">At first, I still refused, but she saw my weakness, my half-hearted refusal, and realigned her battle strategy. Instead, she reminded me about how Brian used to wake up screaming at night because he never felt safe. One night in the tree house, Brian confided in me that the only place he’d ever felt safe was at the Schreibers’. I couldn’t let my mother call the state and take that from him because of me. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">In the end, I put my pride on a shelf and hid my picture of Brian behind the driver’s license in my wallet. I wanted the picture with me so that I could take it out and think of him in the dead of night, where the glimmer of a promise remained.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Jamie?” a quiet voice asked, and I opened my eyes to see Alex standing by the open bedroom door. He flipped his long blond hair back out of his eyes and bit his lip gingerly, waiting for me to answer. Alex, or Taylor as they called him on set, had become a good friend since we started working together a few months earlier. He was a sweet guy, but the straight guys, like Brandon, didn’t really understand Alex’s flaming personality. They thought he was just an emo twink looking for attention. But that’s just the way he worked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m here,” I told him, sitting up slowly and wiping my face. When he turned the light on and saw my face, he sighed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Jamie, you need—” he started as he walked toward the bed, but I cut him off quickly. I didn’t need another fucking lecture about how I had to get away from Steven. Alex never told me anything I didn’t already know. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Brian’s here,” I said abruptly. He gasped theatrically and slapped a hand over his mouth. Anyone else would have thought he was acting, trying to be a stereotypical drama queen, but for Alex, it was natural. Dropping down onto the side of the bed, he took my hand and held it in his.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What do you mean he’s here? Do you mean in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">San Diego</place></city> here, or at the studio here?” When I nodded at both of his questions, he put both hands over his mouth. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“The new guy, Scott, is my Brian,” I whispered. Alex and I had talked about Brian countless times since we met on set a few months ago. He knew what it meant for Brian to be so close to me, but also how bad it could be if anyone found out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“How?” Alex whispered. “I met him when he was here last week for a shoot with that Corey guy. He was so sweet and shy and scared. I never thought—”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’s my fault…. It’s all my fault. He’s got to be here looking for me,” I said, and the truth burned in my chest. “I don’t know how he ended up here at the studio. He must have become friends with Corey, and Corey got him into porn. Brian was always so shy about sex. He never would have done this on his own. Oh, God, and you said he was scared.” Alex nodded and squeezed my hand as I failed to swallow the sudden fiery lump in my throat. “And look what he gets when he does finally find me: a junkie and a whore.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Come on, honey, I need to fix your eye. I can’t do that if you cry,” Alex whispered and kissed me on top of the head. “Please don’t cry, Jamie.” I nodded and took several deep breaths, trying to stop.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Start with my back. I’ll be okay in a minute,” I assured him and took off my shirt. It had been a while since I cried, probably since Steven brought me home like a stray dog. Since I was all collared, leashed, and house trained, I needed to keep myself under control. Steven didn’t like when I misbehaved, and I’d get a hell of a lot more than a smack on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Fucker,” Alex sighed as he assessed the damage. Then I heard him open the box at his feet. Hartley kept stage makeup in the studio for the guys to use if they had zits or bags under their eyes. He’d added to it when I came on board. Alex was a whiz at makeup; it was just something he had a talent for. I sucked at it, but that didn’t matter because I couldn’t reach the bruises on my back anyway. “Okay, honey, I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt,” he whispered. As gently as he could, he spread the stuff on a bruise at the base of my spine, and I tried not to whimper when he put pressure on it. When I failed, he hissed in a breath and rubbed it in, trying to make it even. He repeated it on four other places, including my shoulder, and even a little on the back of my head. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Goddamn, that stings,” I whispered as the makeup went into the barely closed gash on my head. All of it had to be concealed because every part of my body would be on camera, naked and exposed for anyone who could afford to pay for a membership.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Okay, babe, sit here next to the light so I can do your eye,” Alex said, and I sat up, careful not to smudge the stuff on my back. As he applied foundation to my face, someone knocked softly on the door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Who is it?” Alex called, and I prayed it wasn’t Brian. I had to get my shit under control before I saw him again. I knew it wasn’t Steven because he wouldn’t have knocked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’s Corey,” a voice said through the door, and Alex got up. Apparently, he had locked the door behind him, maybe to keep Steven out. I could have warned him that wouldn’t work and that he’d been foolish to try. I’d gotten my head shaved last week doing that very same thing. Steven had been high and joking about wanting to fist me, so I locked myself in the bathroom. He was so unpredictable when he was high. I only intended to stay in there until he came down. Instead, he broke down the door and pinned me to the bathroom floor. Threatening to cut my face with the scissors in his hand if I resisted, he cut my hair brutally short because I had “defied” him. He wanted to demonstrate the power he held over me, as if I could forget. When Alex saw me the next day, he’d done the best he could with my hair, but in the end, he just buzzed it, telling me that it would grow back out. Hartley’d had a fit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Alex came back to the bed and picked up the bottle again, putting a little on his fingers. Corey stood in front of me. I got the impression that he wanted to intimidate me, but it wouldn’t work. After Steven O’Dell, taking potshots from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i> kid would be a picnic.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Jamie,” he said quietly, and I looked up at him, not sure why hearing that guy say my real name bothered me. “I don’t have a lot of time. Nick just sent me in here to check how long until you’re ready to shoot.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Then why don’t you say what you have to and leave?” I told him, and even Alex shivered a little at the coldness in my voice. I didn’t want to fucking talk to him, not if he and Brian… if they were…. I felt a small measure of satisfaction when Corey winced at my tone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“We’re going to see what we can do to help you, but until then, you have to pretend like you don’t know him,” he begged. I just looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why the fuck did everyone think I was stupid?</i> Jesus, and what did he mean they were going to see what they could do to help me? They couldn’t help me. No one could. They were just going to get Brian fucking killed if they tried.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Tell him if wants to help me, he’ll fucking go home,” I told him, and his eyes narrowed. Corey took a deep breath, as if he were trying to keep himself calm.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m not telling him that; it would break his goddamned heart. He risked so much to come out here and find you because you mean everything to him.” He took a step toward the door, getting ready to leave. Apparently, once he’d dictated my instructions, he had finished with me. But I hadn’t finished with him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Then the next time you guys are in bed whispering sweet nothings in the dark, tell him he wasted his time,” I told him, my voice low and deadly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, you’re a real joy. I can see why he blew off college to chase after you,” he said and turned to leave. Alex just watched the exchange with a look of shock on his face. The little fucker didn’t even try to deny that he… he’d slept with Brian.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Fuck you, candy ass! You don’t know a goddamned thing about me!” I screamed at him and started to stand up, but Alex held me against the bed as he knelt next to me. “Let me go! Damnit! He’s… he’s fucking my Brian.” Then I really did lose my shit, and I tried to throw Alex off me, but he held firm. “My Brian,” I whispered. Alex stood quickly and wrapped his arms around me while I fought against him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You need to go,” Alex told Corey in a low voice. “Shh… Jamie, hon, we need to finish.” Corey didn’t move. He just stood watching the exchange with a neutral expression. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“He’s going to find out,” I choked against Alex’s shoulder. “He’s going to find out, and he’s going to kill Brian. I don’t care anymore if he kills me, but Brian… I can’t….”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Jamie, we’re going to try—” Corey started, but I didn’t let him finish, and his face flushed with anger.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Please, if you care about him at all, you will get him the fuck away from here. I am begging you,” I said, trying to hold in my useless tears.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“He won’t go, not now that he’s seen you. He’s absolutely determined to save you,” Corey said as he walked to the door. “I’ll let Nick know you’re almost ready.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“He can’t save me,” I said quietly as he closed the door behind him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The fucking E just wasn’t doing a damned thing for me, and I thought about asking Steven for another hit, maybe one of the pills—anything to take the edge off the pain in my back and in my heart. I didn’t want to fucking think anymore.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Alex took me into the adjoining bathroom and sat me down on the closed toilet. He grabbed a rag from the linen closet and wet it with cold water before wringing it thoroughly and patting my face and neck. Murmuring words of comfort I didn’t deserve, he helped me calm down so that he could finish covering the black eye. It didn’t look perfect when he was done, but so long as Nick kept the camera on my left side, it wouldn’t show up on screen. Alex hugged me again just once before we went back into the room to shoot.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“<city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Taylor</place></city>, I’m keeping you,” Nick said as he looked over my face. When I turned around to show him my back, he clapped Alex on the shoulder. “Damn, you did his back, too? I was just going to have him lay on it. Thanks, kid.” Alex mumbled something and went to stand out of the way. He was worried about me; I could see it in his face. He wanted to see how I handled being in a scene with Brian. I wondered that myself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I didn’t look at anyone when I entered the room. I just stared at the floor, hoping that it would swallow me before I had to go through with the scene.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Let’s start out with the four of you on the bed. Scott can start out with Corey, and Brandon with Dylan. I want you to undress each other, do some oral side by side, and then we’ll break to move a couple over to the couch.” Brian looked up, catching my eye briefly before he looked away, and I felt nauseated. If Brian was determined to save me, then he would feel compelled to go through with the shoot. Being on the crew and in the studio would keep him closer to me. If he wouldn’t stop the shoot, and I couldn’t stop it, he would be fucking another guy, forcing me to watch.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Come here, baby,” Corey said to Brian and pulled him over to the bed. I noticed that he positioned Brian so that Brian couldn’t see me. Unfortunately, I could see them as Corey started to kiss Brian, and my heart fucking ached in my chest. For several long minutes, I couldn’t stop myself from watching another guy kiss the man I loved. It was like a train wreck. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. So, I did the only thing I could. I grabbed <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Brandon</place></city> and pushed him to a sitting position on the foot of the bed a few feet from where Corey pulled Brian’s shirt over his head. I straddled <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Brandon</place></city>’s lap and kept my balance by holding his shoulders. Just like every other time I had to fuck some guy, I closed my eyes and imagined Brian’s smile. The soft curve of his lips, the way his face lit up, I tried to remember every detail as I kissed Brandon, but all I could see when I closed my eyes was the horror on Brian’s face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I pulled away, and Brandon, who must have felt my hesitation, kissed down my neck instead. He tried to give me a few seconds to breathe because the room just didn’t seem to have enough oxygen. I kept my eyes closed so that I wouldn’t have to see Brian, but I could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hear</i> them, and that broke me even further. Stroking <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Brandon</city></place>’s short blond hair, I felt him moving down toward my chest, so I pulled his shirt up and rubbed his chest. It was all perfunctory. By that point, I’d done this so many times I could put my body on autopilot and just tune out. Unfortunately, when I did that, I focused on Brian and had to swallow past the fiery lump in my throat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">More than anything, I wished that I could just take his hand, pull him out of that bastard’s arms, and run. But I had nothing—no home, no money, no support, and Steven stood guard just downstairs. Even though I’d been under his thumb for months, I’d never felt as trapped as I did then—Brian had been caught too, and I was to blame. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><city w:st="on"><place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Brandon</span></place></city><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> suddenly moved closer to me on the bed, and I pulled myself out of my thoughts. I had a job to do. Chancing a glance up at Brian and Corey, I dug my fingers into the bedding to hide my clenched fists. Corey had his filthy cock in Brian’s mouth. Goddamn it, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t watch Brian touching someone else like that. I collapsed onto my back and pulled <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Brandon</place></city> on top of me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Straddle my shoulders,” I whispered, and he looked down at me in surprise because I’d never taken the initiative with him. <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Brandon</city></place> was a top—a straight top—and because straight guys were a bigger money draw, we accommodated whatever would keep them hard. Everyone knew they were in charge. But I didn’t want to be able to see; I wanted his legs on either side of my head so all I could see was him. I wanted to have to force my attention on simply breathing and sucking. Really, that’s all I was good for anyway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I got exactly what I wanted, and within a few minutes, I could focus only on trying to breathe as he fucked my throat. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, fuck, Dylan, just like that,” <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Brandon</city></place> moaned for the cameras, even though he was starting to lose his erection. We often had to stop as many as ten times in a shoot for <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Brandon</place></city> to get hard again. Guys just weren’t his thing. Sometimes his wife, Leslie, would be on the set to fluff him and get him ready again. With different camera angles and keeping him all the way in my mouth, we could keep going for a few more minutes while they kept his dick <a href="http://www.blogger.com/" name="OLE_LINK4"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" name="OLE_LINK3"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK4;">off screen</span></a>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Instead of stopping, however, he moved down and started to suck me while he stroked himself, trying to get his hard-on back. He knew, as I did, that if we didn’t get the shoot, none of us got paid. Hartley wouldn’t pay for a shoot he couldn’t sell. I’d heard from Alex that <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Brandon</city></place> did the gay-for-pay gig because he was trying to support his wife and twin baby girls. He would do whatever he needed to in order to take care of them, so he would not let a shoot go bad. His lips wrapped around my cock, and I moaned. I thought it sounded generic and forced, but the guys jacking off to it wouldn’t really care.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I had just enough of a buzz left that his automatic stroking and occasional sucking kept me interested. Rocking my hips slowly to look like I was really into it, I snuck another glance at Brian and Corey. They had switched as well, and Brian leaned back against the headboard with his eyes closed as Corey bobbed his head, sucking him. I hated the way Brian stroked the back of Corey’s hair. I hated how comfortable they looked with each other. Most of all, I hated wondering if Corey turned Brian on better than I ever had. Those sweet, tender moments in the tree house probably didn’t hold a candle to a full-fledged porn star.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I’d never hated myself more than I did in that moment.</span></div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-45836222821253988622011-09-19T11:07:00.000-07:002011-09-19T11:08:21.939-07:002011 AIDSWalk/Run Chicago<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcAcDaoEjLeQv_SdabCUClkOG8ER_X0P6A2SMZtBeB_N0iBfbBkP9_humOCFbVO-hdjZF6XLHTTDbhgvxUFhaQqlrl1dOu8f1i5yevN2UyL8YJzgmvTMAgU-rHd52_GQ5N4ZQAgWkhvAS/s1600/AidsWalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="90" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcAcDaoEjLeQv_SdabCUClkOG8ER_X0P6A2SMZtBeB_N0iBfbBkP9_humOCFbVO-hdjZF6XLHTTDbhgvxUFhaQqlrl1dOu8f1i5yevN2UyL8YJzgmvTMAgU-rHd52_GQ5N4ZQAgWkhvAS/s400/AidsWalk.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Dear Friends,<br />
<br />
On Saturday October 1, 2011 I will be participating in AIDS Run & Walk Chicago to support the work of the AIDS Foundation of Chicago (AFC) and its community partners. <br />
<br />
Please help me reach my personal fundraising goal to ensure than AFC remains a local and national leader in the fight against HIV/AIDS. By making a donation to me, you help support more than 160 Chicagoland organizations whose work is so invaluable to this cause. <a href="http://afc.aidschicago.org/NetCommunity/Page.aspx?pid=1265&tab=3&erid=5756411&frsid=18007">Click here to make a donation</a><br />
<br />
You can also sign up to walk or run with me! <a href="http://afc.aidschicago.org/NetCommunity/Page.aspx?pid=1265&tab=2&erid=5756411&frsid=18007">Click here to register</a><br />
<br />
Thank you in advance for your support and your generosity. Because of you, I am on my way to accomplishing my personal fundraising goal and helping AFC raise more than $500,000 net for AIDS Run & Walk Chicago 2011.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
J. P. BarnabyJ. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-56000951686780056252011-09-06T19:57:00.000-07:002011-09-06T20:09:53.113-07:00The internet is forever...<span style="background-color: #444444; color: white;">For those of you who missed SpencerReedXXX's tirade on twitter earlier tonight before he deleted it - here is a recap:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: white;"><em>Background Information: <a href="http://www.devonhunter.info/archives/2366/">http://www.devonhunter.info/archives/2366/</a></em></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111214497510866945" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:09 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@JPbarnaby" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@JPbarnaby</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> and all her ugly little erotic novel writing cohort of parentheticness are the sadest individuals on the net. go get a life cunts</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Erynn Vaehne</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/erynnvaehne/status/111215113587015680" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:12 PM</span></a><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“</span><a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">: </span><a href="https://twitter.com/@JPbarnaby" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@JPbarnaby</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> & her erotic novel writing cohort of parentheticness are the sadest individuals on the net go get a life cunts”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Erynn Vaehne </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/erynnvaehne/status/111215388485881856" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:13 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> you're really putting something out there like that? publicly?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111215861460779009" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:15 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> absolutely i dont care.. oh no i may loose 5 fans OMG</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Erynn Vaehne </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/erynnvaehne/status/111216106089357312" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:16 PM</span></a><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">good attitude to have, bro. “</span><a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">: </span><a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> absolutely i dont care.. oh no i may loose 5 fans OMG”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111216434511757312" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:17 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> I have a GREAT attitude 99.9% of the time im allowed to speak my mind if i would like.. there all attacking me publicly</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111216599054295040" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:17 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> are you implying your in her little cult</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Erynn Vaehne </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/erynnvaehne/status/111216908652658688" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:19 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> i know people who think you're amazing.and you're absolutely allowed to speak your mind. i just don't agree that calling--</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Tia Fielding </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/tiafielding/status/111217003884314625" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:19 PM</span></a><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Wow, I'm actually wondering if I'm in </span><a href="https://twitter.com/@JPBarnaby" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@JPBarnaby</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">'s gang of... ugly cunts was it? I didn't think I was, but hey, more the merrier?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Erynn Vaehne </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/erynnvaehne/status/111217004224057344" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:19 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> female fans cunts is a very good idea. you're better to just block and ignore if you don't care for them.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Erynn Vaehne </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/erynnvaehne/status/111217320487161856" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:20 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> seeing as how she doesn't have a CULT, no, i'm not a part of anything. but she is a supportive female fan and a great author</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Erynn Vaehne </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/erynnvaehne/status/111217475877732352" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:21 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> so if you don't like her, that's fair, block and ignore her. but calling her and her friends/fellow fans cunts?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111217493682565121" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:21 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> your very correcto on that i shouldn't have.. not all females are cunts. but I can have a moment from time to time you know</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Erynn Vaehne </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/erynnvaehne/status/111217789607477248" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:22 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> of course you can, we all do, i have them all the time. i just try to catch myself.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111218010194325504" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:23 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> Oh whatever i dont care...</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111218564551282688" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:25 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@SamuelColtXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SamuelColtXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> </span><a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> RIGHT! i can call whoever i want a cunt... i aint no celebrity worrying about PR im just a fuckin pornstar</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Erynn Vaehne </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/erynnvaehne/status/111218622965350400" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:26 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@SamuelColtXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SamuelColtXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> if you call a decent woman i know a cunt, i'll be sure to call you out on it, too. haven't seen you ever go there.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Zee </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/zeewriter/status/111218988113068032" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:27 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> its sad he has to resort to bullying like that. It will not make people like him anymore. </span><a href="https://twitter.com/@JPBarnaby" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@JPBarnaby</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">J. P. Barnaby </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/jpbarnaby/status/111219090068213760" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:27 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> </span><a href="https://twitter.com/@SamuelColtXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SamuelColtXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> I'm just glad it was me he snapped on rather than someone who would have been hurt by it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111220798777339904" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:34 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> sorry if i offended you in some way but really whatever this is just twitter not NBC sorry if i called a group of bitches cunts</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Erynn Vaehne </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/erynnvaehne/status/111222815365140481" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:42 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> cute!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111223061918912512" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:43 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@ErynnVaehne" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@ErynnVaehne</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> IKR!!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111224084599275520" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 7:47 PM</span></a><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">i apologize to all my female fans/cunts outs there... </span><a href="http://search.twitter.com/search?q=#sosensative" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">#sosensative</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> </span><a href="http://search.twitter.com/search?q=#CUNT" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">#CUNT</span></a><a href="http://search.twitter.com/search?q=#CUNT" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">#CUNT</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> </span><a href="http://search.twitter.com/search?q=#CUNT" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">#CUNT</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">paul </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/subzero_1977/status/111231651492806656" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 8:17 PM</span></a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> What the hell is </span><a href="http://search.twitter.com/search?q=#LOGP" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">#LOGP</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">? I can't say for sure if I am one until I know.<br />
<br />
PS. You're hot. Thought you should know that.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Seth </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/sethisup2nogood/status/111236387226923009" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 8:36 PM</span></a><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@xxxxxxxxx </span><a href="https://twitter.com/@spencerreedxxx" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@spencerreedxxx</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> apparently "ladies of gay porn" (had to check) Guess their motto is "we're here, you're queer, we love it" lol</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">paul </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/subzero_1977/status/111255085052465153" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 9:50 PM</span></a><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@xxxxxxxxxx</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> </span><a href="https://twitter.com/@SpencerReedXXX" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@SpencerReedXXX</span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> Ah, so more likely fag hags with boundary issues than lesbians. Got it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background: #000000; color: white; font-size: 10pt;">Spencer Reed </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/spencerreedxxx/status/111256448167723008" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">9/6/11 9:56 PM</span></a><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">@xxxxxxxxxx</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> or feminist who cant stand to see a guy fucking a girl so they have to watch guys fucking each other</span></span></div><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: black;"></span>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-62903378157296932942011-08-29T10:31:00.000-07:002011-08-29T10:31:15.285-07:00Blog Overhaul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Qc4FgC6KUbcizRRJkrNa9dSWs5F0B-dp63JhQgBDnxa5ZE4S6ShFKOqpkdSWtHyRDYyGLr4z1LEoPW_aF3z4Qlf2_lGa4ckSZ20-2jdnGvoz32ED6HGrrNvP0-Curp42DhTxMNEKRCXB/s1600/blog.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Qc4FgC6KUbcizRRJkrNa9dSWs5F0B-dp63JhQgBDnxa5ZE4S6ShFKOqpkdSWtHyRDYyGLr4z1LEoPW_aF3z4Qlf2_lGa4ckSZ20-2jdnGvoz32ED6HGrrNvP0-Curp42DhTxMNEKRCXB/s1600/blog.bmp" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For the last few months, I have been maintaining several different blogs – a personal blog, a professional blog, and blogs for reviews, free fiction, etc. When I first started to publish, this was fine, I had the time, but lately I’ve realized that I’m really damn busy. I don’t know when it happened, or how I didn’t notice, but with the nearly 90 lb loss has come something I didn’t really expect to have – a social life. My email, twitter, and texts have been going crazy lately and honestly, I couldn’t be happier. Last weekend, I picked up a new iPhone to help me manage the craziness, and I think because everything is on the same device, that’s when I really understood just how things have changed for me in the last year.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A year ago, I looked at authors like Marie Sexton, Jan Irving, and Rick Reed and envied what I thought at the time was their perfect life. I mean, they are popular, successful authors so they must have it all together, right? I have five published novels and three shorter stories with more on the way, and I realized that while I’m not in their league, I’m not unrecognized anymore. I see people I don’t know talking about me on Twitter. I get fan mail. I get reviews and mentioned in blog posts, and it’s surreal. But, it’s helped me to see that I need to make my social media efforts as streamlined as possible. To that end, my friend @_Absynthe, whom I love and adore, is going to be helping me streamline all of my blogs into one single place where I can connect with people. I’m a software developer by trade, so the technology is not unfamiliar, but she is a WordPress goddess. You will not notice any real change unless you’re subscribed to one of the blogs. I also plan to consolidate blog posts into a monthly email. More information will be coming on that venture soon.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A couple of weeks ago, I met an extraordinary guy. For two years, he lived with the constant pain and fear of domestic abuse. During that time, he was not allowed an online social outlet where he could express himself and keep hold of the truly special person that he is. So, when my friend and I put together a blog for him and taught him how to post, I wasn’t sure exactly what would happen. He took to it like a duck to water, and I couldn’t be more proud of him. He’s using his blog and twitter to make his voice heard. A few of my friends have a single unified blog where they combine their personal and professional lives, so I’ve decided to follow in their example.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My new blog will be a reflection of my personal and professional life – new releases, works in progress, fitness, friends, and my constant battle to be a more socially adjusted person. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, thank you @_Absynthe, @Blaculicious, @Devon_Hunter, @PhillipAubreyXXX, @SorceressCirce, @Naelany, and @ZeeWriter for helping me to see that I’m a person worth sharing with the world through more than just my stories. </span></div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-72598876955815465872011-08-10T04:05:00.000-07:002011-08-10T04:05:32.846-07:00NEW RELEASE - Papi (featuring cover model Parker Perry)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/images/cover_images/Papi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" naa="true" src="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/images/cover_images/Papi.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2448">Buy from Dreamspinner Press</a></div><br />
<div><em>Kyle Lang just got out of a marriage that lasted too goddamned long. He knew when he married her that he shouldn’t have. For the last few years, he’s been haunted by daydreams of the perfect feel of another man’s skin. The problem is, the bar scene isn’t working so well for him. When Kyle picks up Jesse, an eighteen-year-old illegal who turns tricks for cash, he finally finds something to scratch that desperate itch. For Jesse, who is only gay-for-pay to support his sister, it's the first time he’s ever been aroused by another man's touch. The consequences will change his whole world.</em></div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-90024343216394738692011-07-29T17:17:00.000-07:002011-07-29T17:17:31.580-07:00Chat with J. P. Barnaby on GoodreadsChat with me on the Dreamspinner Press group on Goodreads:<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Meet the Author: J. P. Barnaby</u></strong><br />
Saturday, July 30th<br />
12:00 - 5:00 CST<br />
<br />
Chat link: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/45452.Dreamspinner_Press">http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/45452.Dreamspinner_Press</a>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-914816666268657552011-07-18T06:23:00.000-07:002011-07-18T06:23:32.152-07:00NEW RELEASE - Little Boy Lost: Vanished (Book 3)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/images/cover_images/Vanished.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" m$="true" src="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/images/cover_images/Vanished.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2414&osCsid=ogb7427bjv49hcj9uledi8amh5">Little Boy Lost: Vanished</a> now available from Dreamspinner Press</strong><br />
<em>Brian McAllister’s story continues in San Diego, where he finds so much more than he ever expected: acceptance, friends, encouragement, and an entire world of sexual adventure he’d never dared to imagine back in his small Alabama town. He continues to search for one lost boy in a sea of humanity but slowly begins to realize that maybe dreams really don’t come true.</em><br />
<br />
<em>Encouraged by new friends Mike and Emilio, Brian struggles to find work and keep his spirits up while his hope of finding Jamie starts to falter. But when life comes crashing down, he’s desperate to keep his new life. Can Brian do the unthinkable to remain in California when his money runs out? When Brian meets a beaten and bruised boy no one seems willing to help, he knows that walking away is no longer an option.</em>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-19312272647961625032011-07-09T04:15:00.000-07:002011-07-09T18:05:02.705-07:00Papi - featuring cover model Parker Perry (Coming August 10th)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45dwu7PuHyd-4zv9r_PP242c8jCO-5xq_mUCWxyg5qcyU-FsAHdWq1q0nP4mO1oJ117qW1Z4dwPEMR6jj1a2XjcT65I2M0sywxwDH9sti3P0l2_QfkG7w5lndw5pXzq2oCPZlCFk2FF4l/s1600/papi-preview2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45dwu7PuHyd-4zv9r_PP242c8jCO-5xq_mUCWxyg5qcyU-FsAHdWq1q0nP4mO1oJ117qW1Z4dwPEMR6jj1a2XjcT65I2M0sywxwDH9sti3P0l2_QfkG7w5lndw5pXzq2oCPZlCFk2FF4l/s320/papi-preview2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Papi by J. P. Barnaby coming August 10th from Dreamspinner Press</strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><em>Kyle Lang just got out of a marriage that lasted too goddamned long. He’d known when he married her that he shouldn’t have. For the last few years, he’s been haunted by daydreams showing him the perfect feel of another man’s skin. The problem is, the bar scene isn’t working so well for him. When Kyle picks up Jesse, an eighteen-year-old illegal who turns tricks for cash, he finally finds the scratch for that desperate itch. For Jesse, who is only gay for pay to support his sister, it is the first time he’s ever been aroused by the touch of another man. The consequences will change his whole world.</em> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><em><strong>Excerpt:</strong></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27.35pt; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The supplicant boy shifted on his knees and Kyle felt one small hand wrap around the base of his erection, stroking in time with the mouth. Another hand joined in, an exciting accompaniment to the melodic pulsing rhythm of sucking and stroking, making Kyle’s heart race. Kyle spread his legs further as his balls were stroked, a delicate finger rubbing behind them as his toes curled inside his shoes. Nothing had ever felt as good as the kid’s mouth and hands.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27.35pt; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Jesus fucking Christ,” Kyle moaned as the arrangement of lips and hands changed. He could almost see the kid’s soft pink tongue snaking out from between swollen lips to tease and massage his tender balls. Using one hand to hold Kyle’s rigid cock out of the way, Jesse used the other to rub behind them as he continued to suck. Wandering fingers came dangerously close to sliding between Kyle’s buttocks, but never quite moved that far. It shocked him to realize how much he wanted that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27.35pt; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Kyle’s legs shook with the effort of standing. It had never been like this, not with his hook-ups, not with old girlfriends, not even with his wife. Squeezing his eyes closed, he tried to push back the regrets and anger he felt for denying that part of himself for so long. If he hadn’t been such a pussy, he would have told his family that marrying Evelyn was a bad idea. Unfortunately, he had been young and stupid and had allowed the sham to happen. For his own comfort and dignity, he had let it continue to go on for far too long. Picking up the boy had been exactly what he’d needed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27.35pt; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Finally, Kyle felt like everything had fallen into place.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27.35pt; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">All at once, he started taking quick little shallow breaths. His body was starting to tighten, and a low desperate moan forced its way from his parted lips. The boy stopped abruptly, pulling back. At first Kyle thought he’d moved to avoid the jizz, but realized that he’d moved to prevent Kyle from reaching that point.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27.35pt; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Not yet, papi,” the boy told him, amusement clear in his voice. Slowly getting to his feet, Jesse pushed Kyle’s shoulder with just enough gentle pressure to turn him and get the older man to sit on the side of the sagging queen-sized bed. Trying not to think about what kinds of stains soiled the surface of the bedspread, Kyle began to lift his leg to pull off the rumpled jeans, but Jesse beat him to it. Resting a hand on the older man’s knee, he knelt again to pull at the laces of Kyle’s shoes. With unhurried but deliberate purpose, Jesse undressed Kyle, who marveled at the kid’s customer service skills. That thought nearly forced a nervous chuckle out of Kyle as Jesse stood before the naked man and toed out of his own shoes before shucking the ripped and battered jeans. Several condoms and a packet of lube were partially visible in Jesse’s hand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27.35pt; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Kyle got a wonderful view of the kid’s body as he crawled onto the bed past him and lay on his stomach, tousled black hair fanning across his arms as he rested his head on the pillow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27.35pt; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cojeme, papi,</i>” Jesse said quietly, looking back over his shoulder. The small smile playing on his lips was fucking sexy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27.35pt; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What does that mean?” Kyle asked as he moved to lay almost completely on top of the boy, his hard cock pressing against the soft skin of Jesse’s ass, rubbing insistently against the left cheek. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27.35pt; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“It means ‘fuck me’,” the boy moaned, pushing up into Kyle’s slow grind. </span></div><br />
<hr /><em>Papi</em> (c) Copyright 2011 - <a href="http://www.jpbarnaby.com/">J. P. Barnaby</a> <br />
Cover images (c) Copyright 2011 - <a href="http://www.kenttaylorphotography.com/">Kent Taylor Photography</a><br />
<strong>Cover model:</strong> <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/parker_perry">Parker Perry</a><br />
<strong>Cover artist:</strong> <a href="http://www.angstyg.com/">AngstyG</a>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-68575639792758742862011-06-30T06:39:00.000-07:002011-06-30T06:39:57.883-07:00Beautiful bookmarks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwJFyyX-C33NppRkdjYDWsqhRuVYNFOykE_DQ16cTqIgzEyXmJn1b7PiTnLenUUnpAYfaTxFuKdphTAYfbVZSH0IH6NFrjCBqZlwq729uIHXzMK5apzwILbWhMFr9126_ki17WUTGBWnN/s1600/bookmark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwJFyyX-C33NppRkdjYDWsqhRuVYNFOykE_DQ16cTqIgzEyXmJn1b7PiTnLenUUnpAYfaTxFuKdphTAYfbVZSH0IH6NFrjCBqZlwq729uIHXzMK5apzwILbWhMFr9126_ki17WUTGBWnN/s320/bookmark.jpg" width="72" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSIQIDzQ5Fr07Xt6bCSQfn0H7_wbb2Bzu7bHlk-TK7toQHqYLsSSm5o4pQ5zjdGMt6dCA543zCtMHXfsvg1hK6mYAiH4LPzO6XNmZOpVpCErEczv_AZ0fj-7tV7FARPgPyS3FesGc_dYQ/s1600/bm-nobj-preview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSIQIDzQ5Fr07Xt6bCSQfn0H7_wbb2Bzu7bHlk-TK7toQHqYLsSSm5o4pQ5zjdGMt6dCA543zCtMHXfsvg1hK6mYAiH4LPzO6XNmZOpVpCErEczv_AZ0fj-7tV7FARPgPyS3FesGc_dYQ/s320/bm-nobj-preview.jpg" width="72" /></a></div>As part of my promotion for GayRomLit, I'll be giving out these two absolutely stunning bookmarks of gay adult models Trent Diesel and Parker Perry. The bookmarks (as well as their coordinating covers) were designed by AngstyG Web and Graphic Design.<br />
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Thank you to <a href="http://www.twitter.com/trentdiesel69">@TrentDiesel69</a> and <a href="http://www.twitter.com/Parker_Perry">@Parker_Perry</a> for lending their gorgeous likenesses to make these keepsakes (and their covers) remarkable.J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-51389923115617852222011-06-23T08:17:00.000-07:002011-06-23T08:17:24.432-07:00Little Boy Lost: Vanished Book TrailerI'm excited to share a book trailer for the new release Little Boy Lost: Vanished, coming July 18th from Dreamspinner Press.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Iix00Pmchf0">http://www.youtube.com/embed/Iix00Pmchf0</a>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-35352569119538847882011-06-04T19:12:00.000-07:002011-06-04T19:12:44.494-07:00Excerpt - Little Boy Lost: Vanished (Book 3)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGIUMZ2TAMNClNfDl4AjVUeXEcS-VC1VaeCw06WULNyUUR1Sf1fkMGTWdeWpDCvwMYYT_ihf_DuKNbAn8NyNaY27HJNs4gHfw1GACP-PfaSuypitCGmwltEsNFdSI2OhDVkS-E3jMPlPA/s1600/VanishedLg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGIUMZ2TAMNClNfDl4AjVUeXEcS-VC1VaeCw06WULNyUUR1Sf1fkMGTWdeWpDCvwMYYT_ihf_DuKNbAn8NyNaY27HJNs4gHfw1GACP-PfaSuypitCGmwltEsNFdSI2OhDVkS-E3jMPlPA/s320/VanishedLg.jpg" t8="true" width="213" /></a></div>Copyright 2011 (c) - J. P. Barnaby<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><em>This excerpt is from the third Little Boy Lost book - Vanished. Because the book is still in the preparation process, this passage is unedited.</em></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><strong><em>Release Date: July 18, 2011 from <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/">Dreamspinner Press</a></em></strong> </span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><hr />Tony and Emilio turned away from the bar, and they were each carrying a tray. It wasn’t until they got closer that I could see tiny little glasses of clear liquid. Each tray also had a bowl of lime wedges and a saltshaker. I looked at Mike curiously.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Of course they’d pick tequila,” he sighed. “I’m more of a vodka guy myself. But just watch what we do, kid. It ain’t rocket science.” His face broke into a wicked grin, and he shifted me closer to his lap. “Hey, Kenny, think we should teach the boy how to do body shots?” </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">The rest of the guys laughed at Mike’s question, but I didn’t understand what he meant. I couldn’t imagine he was talking about hitting me, but I wrapped my arms protectively around myself anyway. Kenny looked at Enrique sitting next to him, who just rolled his eyes and nodded. His expression was kind, which made me think they were talking about something more flirtatious than violent. Still, I looked around nervously at the seven other guys now grinning at me.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“At the bar, or…?” Tony asked, but Mike shook his head. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“No, no one plays with our boy but us,” Mike told him in a low voice.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Agreed,” Kenny said and nodded toward a low table that sat in front of one of the couches farther down the wall. “Why don’t you guys go grab that table, it should work fine.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Baby, it’s okay. All it means is that we’re going to lick salt off you after a shot. We just want to help you loosen up a little. You’re so fucking serious all the time,” Mike whispered as each guy picked up a glass and a lime. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Within minutes, I found myself feeling stupid and more than a little nervous as I lay flat on my back on the low wooden table.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Apparently to Mike, having a group of strange guys licking you wasn’t an issue. The more I thought about it, though, I realized they weren’t strange guys. They were my friends. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">That thought made me smile, and I relaxed.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“That’s it, kid,” Tony said with a laugh. “Hey, Mike, why don’t you go first and show him how it’s done?” Mike nodded and knelt next to the low table. He squirted a little of the lime juice on my neck and sprinkled salt onto it. As I watched, he drank the entire contents of the small glass and then very slowly ran his tongue along my neck, licking up the salt. He finished by stuffing the lime into his mouth. There was a warm tingling sensation on my neck where he’d licked.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Your turn,” he told me and handed me one of the small glasses and a lime as I sat up. I mimicked his actions, applied the lime juice and salt to his neck and then downed the glass. The hacking cough that seemed to start at my feet took every bit of the sexiness out of my licking his neck, but the lime helped to calm it down. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“It’s burning my throat,” I told Mike as he handed me the water Tony had also brought from the bar.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“It’s okay; it just takes some getting used to. You don’t have to drink it at all to hang out with us and have a good time. You can be our designated driver,” Mike said, laughing. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I don’t have a license,” I told him, taking another drink of the water. The burning in my throat had subsided, and a warm, pleasant feeling had settled over me.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“How can you not have a driver’s license?” Mike asked, sounding completely shocked. “Didn’t they teach you to drive tractors and shit down on the farm?” I smacked him on the arm.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I just never got around to it,” I replied as someone laid me back down on the table. The truth was that I never wanted to bother Richard and Carolyn with it. Teaching me, taking me for the test, paying for my insurance, it just felt like to much to ask for a foster kid. I always figured I’d get it after I could do it on my own. A hand on my chest pulled me back into the game we were playing. <span class="MsoCommentReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span>Tony was next to take a shot off me, but he decided to do his off my stomach. It took all of my will power not to moan as he licked my stomach. They sat me up again, and I did the same to Tony, licking the salt off his perfectly sculpted stomach while looking up into his eyes. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Emilio and Carter were next, and they decided to do their shots at the same time, lifting up my shirt and licking salt off my nipples. I felt a little uncomfortable exposing my chest in a bar, but since I took off my shirt almost every day at work, I didn’t worry too much about it. I took a shot off Emilio’s chest, but Kenny pushed me down onto the table before I could take the one off Carter. By then I was on my third shot of tequila, feeling warm all over and a little adventurous.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Pulling down the right side of my loose jeans, Kenny placed the salt along my exposed right hipbone. I heard Mike hiss from somewhere to my left, and then he watched as Kenny took the shot. The feeling of his tongue on my hip, licking the salt slowly and making sure to find every single grain, made me squirm on the table. Kenny laughed as he stood up until I grabbed the belt loop of his jeans, pulling down the right side. He watched in amazement as I applied the lime and salt and then took the shot. His skin was warm and soft as I licked all over his hip, not even bothering with the pretense of the salt. As I ran the point of my tongue across his hipbone, I looked up into his eyes. Resting my forehead against his stomach, I pulled the side of his jeans back into place, accidentally grazing his crotch with my cheek. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">The room was starting to spin a little.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Holy fucking Christ,” Kenny whispered, but before I could apologize, he’d grabbed Enrique’s hand and dragged him off. I looked nervously at Mike and saw that he was staring at me.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…,” I started to apologize, but then Mike’s face broke out into a smile. “I didn’t mean to make them leave.” I finished a little sheepishly, and he laughed.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Baby, he just dragged his boy to the john so he could fuck him. Believe me; they’ll both thank you for it later.” I looked in the direction that Kenny and Enrique had disappeared. Sure enough, there was a sign for the men’s room. It made me feel powerful and sexy that I could have that kind of effect on another man, especially one as beautiful as Kenny.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I want one more shot,” Mike said as the rest of the guys started to disappear toward the dance floor. I started to lie back on the table, but Mike pulled me up and toward him so that I was straddling his lap on the couch. He grinned and put the salt on the opposite side of my neck from where he had before. Only he put the lime between my teeth, with the cut side toward him. Taking the shot, he took his time licking and kissing my neck and then my cheek. Using his mouth, he pulled the lime out of mine and sucked the juice out of it, but before I could move away, he was kissing me.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">The kiss started slow and teasing but got deeper as he wrapped his arms around my waist. In the back of my mind, I could hear a kind of voice warning me that I should stop, but the alcohol and the heady arousal muffled the sound. The kiss ended before I could figure out what bothered me about it. I liked the feeling of Mike’s arms around me, the comfort of his kiss. We were just friends; there wasn’t anything wrong with showing affection. The guys in the house were affectionate all the time. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">As I leaned forward in an attempt to get off his lap, my jeans slid down just a little in the back under his fingers, and I heard him groan softly.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Fuck, tell me you’re not freeballin’,” he murmured against my ear over the sound of the music, letting his fingers slide under the waistband on the back of my jeans. At first, I was startled to have him touch me like that. Then I remembered how much Mike loved to fuck around with me, and with my newfound liquid courage, I wanted to let him know that I gave as good as I got. Leaning forward so that my head rested on his shoulder, I moaned softly in his ear. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Mmmmmhmmmm… nothing but the jeans,” I revealed quietly, momentarily distracted by Mike’s heavy breaths on my neck and how he was almost, but not quite, kissing my skin.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Christ, you make me horny,” Mike admitted and sat back against the couch, turning me around and spreading his legs apart so that I could sit between them. I felt his hard cock through his jeans as it grazed my back. I really liked that I could turn him on. It excited me that I could make his body respond by simply whispering in his ear.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">It felt so fucking nice to be wanted.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">We sat on the couch for a while, watching the guys dance. I felt comfortable and warm leaning against Mike. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Come on, kid, let’s go dance,” Mike said, pushing me as Kenny and Enrique emerged from the bathroom looking tousled but happy and relaxed. Kenny winked at me as they passed, and Enrique slapped him on the ass as they both laughed. They were heading in the direction of the dance floor where the rest of our friends were, so Mike and I followed. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">There were a lot of people, but it wasn’t packed. It was the first time in a long time I’d been able to be around a crowd of people and not feel panicky. I guessed that the alcohol in my system was responsible for that, and I had to admit I kind of liked the feeling. The song changed as we walked over to where Tony, Carter, and Kenny were dancing in a circle with the rest of our friends. Without losing a step, they moved and invited us in.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">A new song started, and Emilio, who was shirtless for some reason, squealed like a girl. He moved over to dance in front of me, facing me while Mike pressed against my back. Mike’s hands were on my hips, guiding me to the beat, while Emilio put my hands on his ass and was waving his arms over his head. I giggled. I couldn’t help it. I was sure we looked ridiculous, but it was fun and free, and I finally let loose after holding everything in for so fucking long.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">The song changed again, one with a slightly slower, more sensual beat. Emilio turned around but didn’t move away, reaching back to wrap my arms around his waist. He tried to put my hand near his crotch, but when I resisted, he laughed and put it on his abdomen instead. We were all moving in perfect time with the song, and Mike was singing in my ear. He had a nice voice, low and sweet. As Emilio moved in front of me, his ass was grinding lightly against my crotch just as mine was against Mike. The alcohol was making me feel bold, so I slid my fingers along Emilio’s waistband and caressed his hard stomach as we moved. He moaned and laid his head back on my shoulder.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“You know, mijo, we could play like this whenever you want. The three of us in bed,” he murmured loudly against my skin, kissing my neck. Behind me, Mike was not to be outdone. He pulled my earlobe between his lips, humming softly and whispering how sexy I was. My cock was hard, rubbing freely against my jeans without the barrier that briefs would have provided. I reached up and tangled my fingers in the back of Mike’s hair. He responded by moving one of his hands from my belt loop higher to slide under my shirt, stroking my side. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“God, you have no idea how much I want you to fuck me,” Mike moaned quietly against my ear. That warning voice finally got my attention.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I think I need another drink,” I panted, from how hard I was. Dancing, grinding between those two incredibly hot guys, was intense. Just as I said it, the song ended and Mike took my hand and led me back to the couch while Emilio stayed out on the floor. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“What would you like, sunshine?” he asked casually as if grinding against one of his friends on the dance floor was no big deal, something he did all the time. For all I knew, it probably was.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I don’t know, how about a daiquiri?” I asked, naming the only drink I could think of. Carolyn had made them for a couple of friends one night when they had come over for some kind of party for makeup or bowls or something. My brain just wasn’t working right, so I couldn’t remember. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“No, baby. Rule number one of alcohol is never mix. It will make you sick as a fucking dog. Daiquiris are rum, not tequila. How about a margarita or a tequila sunrise?” Mike asked.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Sure,” I said, not caring which one he brought since I didn’t know what they were anyway. He looked at me like he was going to try to get a decision and then just shook his head and went up to the bar. Feeling mellow, I sat back on the couch, watching the dance floor. It was nice to spend one night not thinking.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Here you go,” Mike said, handing me a colorful orange and red drink with a long straw buried in its depths. The drink he was carrying for himself was clear and fizzing like a lemon-lime soda. I took several long pulls through the straw, and my mostly empty stomach filled with a pleasant warmth.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“If you start to feel sick, you let me know,” he warned and climbed back on the couch behind me even though we were the only ones on it. My cock, which had softened nicely after Mike went to get the drinks, started twitching at the feeling of his breath on my neck. It was like being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket early in the morning: warm, happy, and aroused. I decided to enjoy it.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">After several more dances and another few rounds of the pretty orange and red drinks, I looked at my phone to see what time it was and couldn’t read it. Hitting the button on the side to turn on the backlight, I still couldn’t read it. I was so tired.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Fuck, theresomething wrong wiff my phone,” I told Mike as I lay on the couch with my head in his lap, fighting the urge to sleep. “I can’tsee time itis.” He laughed and took the phone from me. I closed my eyes, letting him have it.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“It’s a little past eleven, and I think it’s time for us to go home, baby boy. You’re fucking loaded,” he said with a chuckle, and I heard him talking to someone else but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">When I opened my eyes again, we were in the Jeep.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Werenyou drunken too?” I asked, trying to put on my seat belt and failing. Mike reached over and pulled the strap across my body, and I heard the elusive click as it snapped into place.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I’m older, bigger, and more experienced with booze than you,” he informed me, and then I felt his lips against mine as he kissed me slowly. I couldn’t think of anything but how it made my body feel. Moaning into the kiss, it seemed like my heart beat harder, causing me to feel a little dizzy. It had been so fucking long since I’d felt like that.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Mike pulled back and kissed me on the forehead before putting the Jeep in reverse.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">The next thing I knew, Mike was helping me out of the Jeep and into the house. It took a long time for us to get up the stairs to the second floor. I just wanted to sleep.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Baby, where are your keys?” Mike asked when we finally got to the door to my room. I looked at him, feeling confused because I didn’t know why he needed my keys if we were already home. Looking up and down the hall, Mike swore under his breath and muttered that I must have left them in the Jeep. He sighed and pulled me toward his room. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">We were gonna have a sleepover like Jamie and I used to have.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">I missed being held.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">My heart hurt.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Mike held me up with one arm as he unlocked the door to his room with the other. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">My throat burned.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">I didn’t want to think anymore.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">As Mike closed the door behind us, I pushed him back up against it, feeling my whole body pressed against his. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Smell good,” I told him as I began to kiss and nuzzle his skin.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Uhm, hi there,” Mike said with a chuckle as he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me from kissing his neck. “I’m buzzin too, kid, so you don’t want to be doing that.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“You don’ want meeether,” I said, finally letting a little of the heartache out. Then my voice dropped to a whisper, and I choked out, “’M so fuckin’ sick of nobody wantin’ me.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Baby, I do want you,” Mike soothed, pulling me closer and stroking my hair. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“So alone, all the time,” I sighed, wrapping my arms tighter around him. “Don’ wanna be alone anymore.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Shhhhhh… you’re not alone, we’re all here, angel,” Mike said after a moment, and his voice sounded clogged, stuffy.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“He leff. Never looked to find me. Hurtsso much, Mike,” I told him, and I could feel that I was shaking but couldn’t stop it.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Micah,” Mike whispered. “My name is Micah.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Please, Micah. Just tonight. Want to feel…. I can’t…. It hurts,” I begged, and I could hear the desperation even over the haze of the booze fogging my brain. I didn’t even know if what I was saying made any sense, and I knew I should just go to sleep.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">His lips were soft and gentle as he kissed me.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I know what it’s like to feel alone,” Micah whispered against my lips with long, tender kisses as he pulled me into his bed. </div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-13002244005359534202011-05-29T18:45:00.000-07:002011-05-29T18:45:47.254-07:00The GrabbysIn my last blog post, I mentioned that I would be in the hospital last week. Everything went very well, and it looks like things may be smooth sailing from here *crosses fingers*. Being in the hospital last week meant that I was unable to attend the Grabbys here in Chicago with my friends @_Absynthe and @Blaculicious who sent tons of images and a play by play of the fun so that I could live vicariously. :)<br />
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With their permission, I'm sharing images from some of their exploits this weekend and all I have to say is... I can't wait until next year.<br />
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We'll start with the man that I would be most interested to meet - <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/tonybuff">Tony Buff</a>. @_Absynthe linked me to his work <em><a href="https://store.ragingstallion.com/show.php?m=3452&st=1&sid=65&program=4&p=4&w=104465&s=17&c=&tool=7&u=https://store.ragingstallion.com/show.php?m=3452&st=1&sid=65&show_extra=1&original_program=4&ref=4598830&referrer=4598830&site=17&webmaster=104465&ipv4=1288517020&tour=0&campaign=0&console=0&ip=76.205.53.156">Industrial Encounters</a></em>, and I have to say that I'm intrigued.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH7tERTLOqezAua3Js7deNXdWeWGHyoVP_7_kV6naEpC70CU_cAtUaiJmPJQO88cBQjLKI3lMyT9IyZFHGKgc7hPLmpmLsG8tZdLVqCttSPoyoZsHj83QoBsFGHcAj515U1uQ4L2G8ICFF/s1600/IMG_0828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH7tERTLOqezAua3Js7deNXdWeWGHyoVP_7_kV6naEpC70CU_cAtUaiJmPJQO88cBQjLKI3lMyT9IyZFHGKgc7hPLmpmLsG8tZdLVqCttSPoyoZsHj83QoBsFGHcAj515U1uQ4L2G8ICFF/s320/IMG_0828.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvntO4Vi0s1k6InwRH5QXAMcYvKt-7HB1sv0Qh9rb9k6sFC6G6xF7ukGCYKPlrVxfLBNzERvu3egKjtgYMVwuJTthX72AzrwfjLStF8qTK_MKgwyOHie9fimaRiAjPi67KNTufzYOrNYq/s1600/IMG_0836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvntO4Vi0s1k6InwRH5QXAMcYvKt-7HB1sv0Qh9rb9k6sFC6G6xF7ukGCYKPlrVxfLBNzERvu3egKjtgYMVwuJTthX72AzrwfjLStF8qTK_MKgwyOHie9fimaRiAjPi67KNTufzYOrNYq/s320/IMG_0836.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Next, we'll go with <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/kennedy_carter">Kennedy Carter</a> because even if I'd never seen a scene with him in it, he's easily one of my favorite guys. Funny, charming, and sweet - all of my friends who have met him say the same thing - he's a hell of a nice guy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNm0EXfQkCBCZ99GAfCAYK5qLlhslZvQvuv8t_Em5_oVIMgHwwxvh63a-uc4DUhQR-_SVb7uJPcrs1GxeUbwWxcP3OffhKx94gYwjfHTwGKsV8Zs23J-oMpotZj7I3a1Q_6J9Wdrhbcr-X/s1600/IMG_0848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNm0EXfQkCBCZ99GAfCAYK5qLlhslZvQvuv8t_Em5_oVIMgHwwxvh63a-uc4DUhQR-_SVb7uJPcrs1GxeUbwWxcP3OffhKx94gYwjfHTwGKsV8Zs23J-oMpotZj7I3a1Q_6J9Wdrhbcr-X/s320/IMG_0848.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIftPEZwtlf8ZNTm6HrBiHR12UfW4M-ZxATgEKJhVgAgJ1KS5JIWOVLQHtcropLipx6SYd0txzim944267cglLYLY0MO0gMqvZI8Lwc-rYuJINLc3jdk0-ildJEQsD2cnt-YylLT1SWWQT/s1600/IMG_0874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIftPEZwtlf8ZNTm6HrBiHR12UfW4M-ZxATgEKJhVgAgJ1KS5JIWOVLQHtcropLipx6SYd0txzim944267cglLYLY0MO0gMqvZI8Lwc-rYuJINLc3jdk0-ildJEQsD2cnt-YylLT1SWWQT/s320/IMG_0874.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div><br />
And now to <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/Parker_Perry">Parker Perry</a> - I don't think I've ever seen a more gorgeous more natural picture of a guy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCukq30Pjf2T1QFY7iUTypffeCcq6GBmZRA09WwH9tpmtceeUrw1m1RpioWI9T7zC0hMzf5BVRqET0mSzTmpIjWzHhhyphenhypheniqX6tuuJekHTzNHXF_ULJDQqSVieK5Wyebz6LVo3YXvIK_UwZF/s1600/IMG_0847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCukq30Pjf2T1QFY7iUTypffeCcq6GBmZRA09WwH9tpmtceeUrw1m1RpioWI9T7zC0hMzf5BVRqET0mSzTmpIjWzHhhyphenhypheniqX6tuuJekHTzNHXF_ULJDQqSVieK5Wyebz6LVo3YXvIK_UwZF/s320/IMG_0847.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div><br />
And he seems very fond of <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/DonnyWrightXXX">Donny Wright</a>... <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnNS7KloYsCCySwd_0LpYMygMpWv6hy1eMiuSvXLNf3OVbBlxRQhvfJZXvKWtsHAo14sX_JrwJIQ6Lomz8nMWHfizQ9Z6X5QbEfv-H0RJXyATb_enK8wjPMEll-e8B_AA6WJZyDXj7rpuA/s1600/IMG_0861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnNS7KloYsCCySwd_0LpYMygMpWv6hy1eMiuSvXLNf3OVbBlxRQhvfJZXvKWtsHAo14sX_JrwJIQ6Lomz8nMWHfizQ9Z6X5QbEfv-H0RJXyATb_enK8wjPMEll-e8B_AA6WJZyDXj7rpuA/s320/IMG_0861.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wow - I almost didn't recognize <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/BrentCorrigan">Brent Corrigan</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWTVI93P_uan86zCwCNkS_Rx9Xkot1-VXo28isWTHRHWl6F_JPZKbInIhrSiOMiM1WTc_yidSLNzViYjKRIvPLxmNRKwObGT7pG52Hc7_zEeg7lhwYlXvSv3_69w6nZj25bYuJr_D2bvf/s1600/IMG_0886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWTVI93P_uan86zCwCNkS_Rx9Xkot1-VXo28isWTHRHWl6F_JPZKbInIhrSiOMiM1WTc_yidSLNzViYjKRIvPLxmNRKwObGT7pG52Hc7_zEeg7lhwYlXvSv3_69w6nZj25bYuJr_D2bvf/s320/IMG_0886.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Last, but certainly not least - porn's favorite power couple: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/SamuelColtXXX">Samuel Colt</a> and <a href="http://www.twitter.com/ChrisPorterXXX">Chris Porter</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguqWkbwu1aiyKar0G9qttEMnV8IlE5Y2miXc85-G2Lw9Q2nbg7z45hT-WOfl5ka-49A-543s3uZFyp2aLyziDP6a9w1O4KiaD5jPje2l6zIVEII1gYsySRBM4NO5riFjEc8TYfl35UNQu-/s1600/IMG_0843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguqWkbwu1aiyKar0G9qttEMnV8IlE5Y2miXc85-G2Lw9Q2nbg7z45hT-WOfl5ka-49A-543s3uZFyp2aLyziDP6a9w1O4KiaD5jPje2l6zIVEII1gYsySRBM4NO5riFjEc8TYfl35UNQu-/s320/IMG_0843.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="left">There are other images, some pretty explicit, but they may have people in them who aren't models. I'll let them post their own images on the internet. </div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-84086316507486102602011-05-20T20:15:00.000-07:002011-05-20T20:16:27.096-07:00Will ya miss me while I'm gone?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
So that rumors don't run rampant around Twitterville, I thought I would go ahead and address this in a blog post. Tuesday, I will be going into the hospital and will be unavailable for a couple of weeks.<br />
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Should complications arise, I have given access to my various media outlets to my friend @_absynthe who will communicate with you if it were to become necessary.<br />
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What will this mean going forward?<br />
The Little Boy Lost series will continue, I'm hoping to keep it is as close to the established schedule as possible. The third book, Little Boy Lost: Vanished will be published July 18th, and the fourth book is currently in process. I will not be able to put out as much free fiction, or short stories as I have this year. Writing novels and publishing for you will remain in my top three as far as priorities go, but the amount of time I will have to devote to it will diminish and be shifted to my health because I also continue to have a full-time career.<br />
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Thank you for your thoughts during this time, and I will see you in a couple of weeks.J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-18971999250705795522011-05-09T03:30:00.000-07:002011-05-11T06:00:04.577-07:00Mastering the Ride featuring cover model Trent Diesel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIyAl6I3Ad5VWGLKPkijQ-S4IzCs4yLca5yAe_9rzKRQ21sIFHKTA_ZJLGV_keO8MkTmTDMAAucDiim7BCjjoSXqMvEm6Ytg0BnE9OSTYlItV6wccQNbsGmZKjIV0Y-aNBN9BZAeaz123K/s1600/MasteringTheRide_CoverDraft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIyAl6I3Ad5VWGLKPkijQ-S4IzCs4yLca5yAe_9rzKRQ21sIFHKTA_ZJLGV_keO8MkTmTDMAAucDiim7BCjjoSXqMvEm6Ytg0BnE9OSTYlItV6wccQNbsGmZKjIV0Y-aNBN9BZAeaz123K/s320/MasteringTheRide_CoverDraft.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
I am incredibly excited to share with you the new cover for <strong>Mastering the Ride</strong> recently designed by <a href="http://angstyg.com/">AngstyG.com</a>. The cover features gay adult film model <a href="http://www.trentdieselxxx.com/">Trent Diesel</a> (<a href="http://www.twitter.com/trentdiesel69">@TrentDiesel69</a>) in an image he shot specifically for this novella. <br />
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Mastering the Ride will be released <strong>September 14th</strong> by <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/">Dreamspinner Press</a>.<br />
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<strong>What's it about?</strong><br />
The story Mastering the Ride is about Josh, a young gay submissive man who is searching for the Master of his dreams. After being released by his most recent Dom, he takes the advice of his trainer and accepts the invitation of a Dom who lives on a ranch in Montana. With his new Master, Wade, he may just find what he's looking for...and more.<br />
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<strong>Draft Excerpt:</strong><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><em>Spread your legs…wider…</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Josh shifted his weight from one knee to the other as he widened his stance and felt the rug grate across his skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He balanced himself with his palms on the couch, something he never would have needed to do while sober.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The muscles in his thighs burned with tension but the pain just added to the thrill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Steadying himself, he reached down with both hands and began with soft, brief touches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stroking his shaft with his right hand, he let his left brush lightly on the top of his thigh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With his eyes closed, he could almost imagine that the hands belonged to his Master.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Not bothering to censor his needy whimper, Josh tightened the grip on his cock and rolled his balls gently in his fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He felt wanton and exposed in that position, everything accessible to his Master.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It excited him to imagine the look of hunger upon the unseen man’s face as he watched his boy perform for him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sneaking his fingers a little farther back, he rubbed the small patch of skin just behind his tender pink sac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In reaction, his other hand to move a little faster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naked and spread in the middle of his small living room, Josh worked his body, making it beg for release.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spitting into his hand, he no longer cared about modesty or shame as his hips began to move against the rhythm of his strokes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With slow, teasing thrusts of his pelvis he fucked his tight slick fist.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><em>That’s it, my little whore… pump those sweet hips for me… fuck your hand… Show me how badly you want to come for me…</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The words exploded in his head, and sent cascading ripples of white hot need down his spine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Josh’s hands shook as he pulled down on his balls trying to keep himself from coming without permission. Twisting his other hand around the head of his cock on every stroke, he fought the blinding force of the orgasm that threatened to envelop him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For what felt like hours, he begged that small part of his subconscious mind where his imagined Master dwelled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He begged to be allowed to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though he was only really begging himself for permission, Josh savored the torment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Edging was one of his favorite things because it made the orgasm that much more intense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rare times he controlled his own pleasure, he always held out as long as he could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as his balls drew up close to his body and his cock became impossibly hard, he heard the voice again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><em>I want you to shoot in my hand boy… Come all over my fingers and I’ll let you lick them clean.</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The arbitrary thought, something that he’d never consciously considered, triggered the eruption in his groin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a low grunt, Josh pumped semen onto the center cushion of his worn leather couch, splotches of pearly come dotted the contrasting brown surface.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His vision swam in front of his eyes as the alcohol and the orgasm fought his consciousness.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"></div><br />
Copyright (c) 2011 - J. P. BarnabyJ. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-46191587972548235582011-05-08T19:36:00.000-07:002011-05-08T19:36:27.306-07:00A beautiful review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyhwMXHmOuUhFy0MXvka8iBmlVzvJiIzdnG4u3X4m2vj0ViTyTcfKgx4uMpGxt3rTHidZ3AL9pxTTK9Bxb6Y8-RlTfLajL5QgTvbq-G6j08uvb3s_a85AGmzM-xNIbmsY-VWC-_JnQoJEa/s1600/DevonTweets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyhwMXHmOuUhFy0MXvka8iBmlVzvJiIzdnG4u3X4m2vj0ViTyTcfKgx4uMpGxt3rTHidZ3AL9pxTTK9Bxb6Y8-RlTfLajL5QgTvbq-G6j08uvb3s_a85AGmzM-xNIbmsY-VWC-_JnQoJEa/s1600/DevonTweets.jpg" /></a></div><br />
When I met <a href="http://www.devonhunter.info/">Devon Hunter</a> for a lunch a few weeks ago, I left him with a signed copy of Little Boy Lost: Enlightened to thank him for answering some questions and helping with research on another novel. Being the eternal optomist, I expected him to politely thank me and toss it into an overflowing book case. (I'm merely guessing by his quick wit and extensive vocabulary that his book cases are overflowing)<br />
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On Friday, I saw several comments from him on Twitter (as shown above) that made my whole day. Not only did he take the time to read the book, but he gave it a heartfelt recommendation to nearly two thousand followers. For me, as a woman writing gay romance, it was honestly the highest compliment for a gay man to tell me that he felt my portrayals are realistic and affecting, as Devon had.<br />
<br />
I am excited and humbled by the success that Enlightened has had, and I only hope that the rest of the series can live up to the expectations set by the first novel.J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-63948605945865733342011-04-28T17:32:00.000-07:002011-04-28T17:33:43.688-07:00GayRomLit Chat at Joyfully Reviewed<div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">On Sunday, May 1<sup>st</sup>, the first official festivities of the <b><a href="http://gayromlit.com/index.php"><span style="color: blue;">GayRomLit Retreat</span></a></b> get under way as many of the participating authors gather together in the <a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Chatting_with_Joyfully_Reviewed/"><span style="color: blue;">Chatting with Joyfully Reviewed Yahoo Group</span></a> where we’ll be posting excerpts, running contests for free books, and chatting about all the new and upcoming releases from your favorite authors.</div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">Organizers will be on hand to talk about the Retreat, which is being held in New Orleans, October 13-16, 2011. Reader registration will only remain open until June 15<sup>th</sup>, so don’t wait! Stop by <a href="http://gayromlit.com/readerregistration.php"><span style="color: blue;">OUR WEBSITE</span></a> for more information or to reserve your spot.</div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">The thirty-six authors listed below will be participating in Sunday’s chat and have generously offered up the following e-books as giveaways which you can enter for a chance to win!!</div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">WILLIAM NEALE</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> - <a href="http://www.mlrbooks.com/ShowBook.php?book=WNHOME01"><span style="color: blue;">HOME</span></a> ~ <b>CAROL LYNNE</b> - <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1142"><span style="color: blue;">SPRING</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">RICK R. REED</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/HowIMetMyMan.html"><span style="color: blue;">HOW I MET MY MAN</span></a> & <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2226"><span style="color: blue;">HOMECOMING</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">PD SINGER</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&manufacturers_id=275&products_id=2779"><span style="color: blue;">CROSS THE MOUNTAIN</span></a> ~ <b>MARIE SEXTON</b> – <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=1672"><span style="color: blue;">PROMISES</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; 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text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">BELINDA MCBRIDE</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1479"><span style="color: blue;">BLACK WOLF</span></a> ~ <b>AMBER KELL</b> – <a href="http://silverpublishing.info/product_book_info/kevin-s-alpha-p-274"><span style="color: blue;">KEVIN’S ALPHA</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">TD MCKINNEY</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/PaxtonsWinter.html"><span style="color: blue;">PAXTON’S WINTER</span></a> ~ <b>KIERNAN KELLY</b> – <a href="http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=3057"><span style="color: blue;">CORNFED</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">ROWAN SPEEDWELL</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2291&osCsid=h23bj25o5sq57nh3c6i17h0kl4"><span style="color: blue;">KINDRED HEARTS</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">EM LYNLEY – </span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2743"><span style="color: blue;">EMERALD</span></a><b> ~ ETHAN DAY</b> – <a href="http://ethanday.com/books.html"><span style="color: blue;">CHOICE FROM BACKLIST</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; 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font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">SIMONE ANDERSON</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1171"><span style="color: blue;">TO LOVE AGAIN</span></a> ~ <b>AMBER GREEN</b> - <a href="http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-turncoat-535540-145.html"><span style="color: blue;">TURNCOAT</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">LYDIA NYX</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=3115"><span style="color: blue;">FROM MOROCCO TO PARIS</span></a> ~ <b>MISSY WELCH</b> – <a href="http://www.mlrbooks.com/ShowQuickies.php?10"><span style="color: blue;">KLT23</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">DC JURIS</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.breathlesspress.com/erotic/what-the-lady-wants.html"><span style="color: blue;">WHAT THE LADY WANTS</span></a> & <a href="http://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=271"><span style="color: blue;">NO PLACE LIKE HOME</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">DAMON SUEDE</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://damonsuede.com/fiction.html"><span style="color: blue;">HOT HEAD</span></a> ~ <b>VJ SUMMERS</b> – <a href="http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8645-under-the-influence.aspx"><span style="color: blue;">UNDER THE INFLUENCE</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">CLARE LONDON</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.clarelondon.co.uk/mybooks.htm"><span style="color: blue;">CHOICE FROM BACKLIST</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">ANGELIA SPARROW</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.literaryunderworld.com/Howl-at-the-Mistletoe-ebook-0000013.htm;jsessionid=3B86CD5548F21DF4DB8175AF2465D970.qscstrfrnt01"><span style="color: blue;">HOWL AT THE MISTLETOE</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JAIME SAMMS</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=205&P_ID=1193"><span style="color: blue;">FIX THIS, SIR</span></a> ~ <b>JAMBREA JO JONES</b> – <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1199"><span style="color: blue;">TELL ME NOW</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">TREVA HARTE</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.loose-id.com/Maxxed-Out.aspx"><span style="color: blue;">MAXXED OUT</span></a> ~ <b>TRINA LANE</b> – <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?cPath=55_292&products_id=2194"><span style="color: blue;">IN DREAMS HE CAME</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">TD MCKINNEY</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> & <b>TERRY WYLIS</b> – <a href="http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/PortraitKiss.html"><span style="color: blue;">PORTRAIT OF A KISS</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">JP BOWIE</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1137"><span style="color: blue;">BLOOD LURE</span></a> & <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1177"><span style="color: blue;">TRIP OF A LIFETIME</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">LYNN LORENZ</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.loose-id.com/Rougaroux-Social-Club-Bayou-Dreams.aspx"><span style="color: blue;">ROUGAROUX SOCIAL CLUB</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmf1vYM-b5HsoszOp2PrU4YE999FKjOWmOK05oelj__eWNjAc7czrM5G7t-D-ryOG8CdyzAusdnWacrsbO0jGScJs4iHbNREPt5eU-8iU1if1wQG0mpFuj4aVmfB3orb-rqjpmlQg04VGj/s1600/GRL+Banner+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="49" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmf1vYM-b5HsoszOp2PrU4YE999FKjOWmOK05oelj__eWNjAc7czrM5G7t-D-ryOG8CdyzAusdnWacrsbO0jGScJs4iHbNREPt5eU-8iU1if1wQG0mpFuj4aVmfB3orb-rqjpmlQg04VGj/s320/GRL+Banner+3.png" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">In addition you’ll be treated to excerpts from some of the latest releases like the ones provided by the following authors!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">WILLIAM NEALE</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.williamneale.com/id1.html"><span style="color: blue;">A NEW NORMAL</span></a> ~ <b>TC BLUE</b> – <a href="http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=3100"><span style="color: blue;">MANDARIN ORANGE</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">ANGELIA SPARROW</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/SwimmingThroughNet.html"><span style="color: blue;">SWIMMING THROUGH THE NET</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">CLARE LONDON</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://ebooks.carinapress.com/038EEA8C-F77E-4125-B7E7-7F94D0103122/10/134/en/ContentDetails.htm?ID=7931719E-D904-46C8-A207-3EB616154F2C"><span style="color: blue;">THE TOURIST</span></a> ~ <b>BRYL R TYNE</b> – <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2275"><span style="color: blue;">AT DAY’S END</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">TRINA LANE</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1127"><span style="color: blue;">THE PERFECT BALANCE</span></a> ~ <b>BARRY BRENNESSEL</b> - <a href="http://barrybrennessel.com/novels/"><span style="color: blue;">TINSELTOWN</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">CAROL LYNNE</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1122"><span style="color: blue;">CRIMSON MOON</span></a> ~ <b>PD SINGER</b> – <a href="http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&manufacturers_id=275&products_id=2685"><span style="color: blue;">FALL DOWN THE MOUNTAIN</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">MARIE SEXTON</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2252"><span style="color: blue;">PARIS A TO Z</span></a> ~ <b>BELINDA MCBRIDE</b> – <a href="http://www.loose-id.com/BlacqueBleu.aspx"><span style="color: blue;">BLAQUE/BLEU</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">KIERNAN KELLY</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.loose-id.com/A-Weapon-of-Opportunity.aspx"><span style="color: blue;">A WEAPON OF OPPORTUNITY</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">AMANDA YOUNG</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> – <a href="http://www.amandayoung.org/books/precious-ache/"><span style="color: blue;">PRECIOUS ACHE</span></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">EM LYNLEY – </span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.ravenousromance.com/m/m/thief-of-hearts-tempted-in-thailand.php"><span style="color: blue;">THIEF OF HEARTS</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The day will run from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. CST in the <a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Chatting_with_Joyfully_Reviewed/"><span style="color: blue;">Chatting with Joyfully Reviewed Yahoo Group</span></a>. I hope everyone will stop by to catch up with your favorite authors and join in all the fun!</span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Can’t wait to see you there!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-35859159476629686582011-04-27T10:53:00.000-07:002011-04-27T10:54:55.348-07:00English Teacher outed as erotic novelist<strong><span style="color: white;">Excerpt:</span></strong><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; border-collapse: separate; font: small "Times New Roman"; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", "Bitstream Vera Serif", serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><em><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">"A series of racy romance novels by an author named Judy Mays are a little too racy for some parents in our area, especially now that they have discovered the woman known as Judy Mays is teaching their children.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Many parents might admire a high school English teacher who is also a published author, but some parents in Snyder County said what their children's teacher is writing about in her spare time might be a little too hot to handle."</span></span></em></span></span><br />
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<strong>Original Story:</strong> <a href="http://snydercounty.wnep.com/news/news/parents-english-teacher-writes-racy-novels/58743">http://snydercounty.wnep.com/news/news/parents-english-teacher-writes-racy-novels/58743</a><br />
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<br />
<strong>My response:</strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This story was slanted completely against a dedicated teacher by small minded people. I was wondering if you planned to even out the story with opinions from people who either don't care what their kid's English teacher does in their spare time, or applaud the woman for keeping her skills practiced and up-to-date.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I write erotic novels. What I write has absolutely nothing to do with my day job just as it has nothing to do with hers. It's not like she sits and writes salacious scenes while her kids are taking an exam. It is ludicrous to assume that one activity encroaches on another, or that her students will be harmed in any way by something that has nothing to do with them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My civics teacher taught us that news reporting is an unbiased account of events in the search for truth. Apparently, your English teacher has a better grasp on her subject than he did on his.</span></div><a href="http://snydercounty.wnep.com/contact">Send WNEP an email</a>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-71374918105495841402011-04-25T10:52:00.000-07:002011-04-25T10:52:34.163-07:00Muffled Screaming<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Recently, I’d seen a movie recommended as a gay love story on Netflix. The main characters were cute, sweet teenage boys finding themselves and each other, so I dropped it in my queue and it arrived over the weekend. Last night, I watched it and found myself utterly horrified. It wasn’t a bad movie, but the realism and shock at the end made me drop it back into its little red envelope and throw it none too gently into the mailbox for its return journey.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The main body of the movie is about two teenage boys – one a straight senior and the other a gay freshman. For those who need a refresher, that would make them about 17 and 13 respectively. As the story progresses, you begin to notice the fact that the freshman boy, who has developed a crush on his senior study partner, is being sexually abused by his father. This revelation is heart breaking enough as the boy uses twine to create a kind of alarm so that he can escape before the older man climbs in bed with him. While the boy is hanging out with his crush, who incidentally is exploiting the boy’s feelings for sex, another of the older guy’s friends develops an unfriendly interest. He watches the interactions between the boy and his older friend.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the end of the story, the boy goes camping with his older friend, the unfriendly guy, and a third boy who is also older. While the boy and his friend are in their tent, he pleases his friend orally to which the older boy says “Does it bother you that I don’t do things like that back?” which shows all too clearly how he is taking advantage of his thirteen-year-old friend. The story culminates in the unfriendly boy finding out about his friend’s homosexual acts with the younger boy. Separating himself and the younger boy from the other two, he rapes the boy while taunting him about touching his friend.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was watching the movie late at night and had the sound on, but was using the captions to supplement the dialog. While this thirteen-year-old boy was face down, his hands clinging to a blanket screaming and crying while the older boy raped him, all that displayed in the captioning was “muffled screaming”. No amount of words could have captured the boy’s fear or anguish at being forced into the receiving end of brutal anal sex. I felt sick as the credits rolled and for the rest of the night, no matter how hard I tried to sleep, all I could see was that boy’s straining hands as he held on to the blanket begging for it to end.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even though it was only a movie, it happens everywhere – and for what? How does raping an innocent boy prove moral superiority over him because he’s gay?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s horrifying and makes me want to just stay in bed with the blankets over my head and never come out again.</span></div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-14064365094926175712011-04-12T12:41:00.000-07:002011-04-12T12:41:09.748-07:00Little Boy Lost: Enlightened makes the Dreamspinner Press "Bestsellers" List<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0P_p9rDri7uohyo32ouPvwKTWqBAV_Kpe8kJ_Mimu4V1CwrYCnMdMceEScTl3t7Fe07_lpQvfi50a3cvU8dJWWKHEBDQ6Qfas4uElFNpMl4cE4F-LZ58oQNxWKlawohDetHeeYk96Yfil/s1600/bestsellerlist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0P_p9rDri7uohyo32ouPvwKTWqBAV_Kpe8kJ_Mimu4V1CwrYCnMdMceEScTl3t7Fe07_lpQvfi50a3cvU8dJWWKHEBDQ6Qfas4uElFNpMl4cE4F-LZ58oQNxWKlawohDetHeeYk96Yfil/s320/bestsellerlist.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am really excited to share with you that Little Boy Lost: Enlightened has made the Dreamspinner Press Bestsellers list. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thank you so much to everyone who has supported me, and supported the series through this transition to Dreamspinner Press. It has been an amazing experience.</div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-32498519576135589362011-04-12T04:18:00.000-07:002011-04-12T04:18:14.996-07:00New Free Story Download - All the Wrong Reasons<a href="http://jpbarnabydownloads.blogspot.com/2011/04/all-wrong-reasons.html?zx=6a0c9416a04c80c3">All the Wrong Reasons</a> is the story of Cameron Finch and Josh Pennington. Cameron was sent away for all the wrong reasons – but stayed for one very right one, him. Will he be worth everything Cameron must give up to have him?<br />
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Written with my good friend Liz Sentry, this is a sweet and heartbreaking tale of young love and parents behaving badly.J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-62711309694833706352011-04-02T15:28:00.000-07:002011-04-02T15:28:49.125-07:00Meeting a Gay Courtesan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoKur8uXKcSKblrxeRPi5eLzRo315MY7U8Uncg8IN16SfcDddIyCw-NWLliw0V-ksKfHnGt1XAw4IXg4xpXn4yZPgdyv8V_ojVOLVdCzj1vsI7IoAFPckdM8x_VS8naoFi2VCKaPXfgMwx/s1600/devon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoKur8uXKcSKblrxeRPi5eLzRo315MY7U8Uncg8IN16SfcDddIyCw-NWLliw0V-ksKfHnGt1XAw4IXg4xpXn4yZPgdyv8V_ojVOLVdCzj1vsI7IoAFPckdM8x_VS8naoFi2VCKaPXfgMwx/s320/devon.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few months ago, I met a guy online whom I found endlessly fascinating. Intelligent as well as educated, his blog and twitter posts captured my interest and I found myself striking up a dialogue with him. As a self-published author, I was flattered when he asked me to guest post for his blog but I have to admit, I was shocked when he asked me to lunch. Had we been standing next to each other in person, I’m sure I’d have looked around to see who he was talking to. A shy geeky software developer, and a girl to boot. Why on earth would Devon Hunter want to have lunch with me?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But…I agreed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I DM’d him my cell phone number on Twitter, believing that he would “be too busy” or “catch malaria” when the time came, so I didn’t think much else about it. Then, the texts started to come. He had arrived in Chicago on Thursday and decided to go to an art gallery during the morning, from which he sent me beautiful images of some artwork he’d love to have. We sent message back and forth all day long. To be honest, the idea that he would share those things with me made me feel special. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Friday morning came, and we talked about where we would meet. At first, I suggested Lou Malnatti’s because it’s as much a Chicago institution as Wrigley Field or Lake Shore Drive. But alas, his voice wasn’t up to a crowded restaurant after screaming himself hoarse at the Janet Jackson concert a few nights earlier. I thought for sure he would cancel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, we decided on a quieter restaurant.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Still texting back and forth, we arrived at Kinzie Chop House which is a wonderful place on Kinzie and Wells near the Merchandise Mart. After he’d been so kind, and so welcoming to me, I wanted to take him someplace special. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had already been seated when he arrived, and felt a little silly sitting with a copy of my book looking out the window like a lost puppy. But then, he was there and he was as beautiful in person as his profile pictures would lead you to believe. Because he is a warm and friendly southern man, the first thing he did was hug me which helped to put my nervousness in the back of my mind. Then, he held out his hand and introduced himself, and I laughed. From that moment until our lunch finished nearly two hours later, he was charming and funny. We talked about everything from blogs to escorting to the Panthers not being able to hit any homeruns in order to get into the World Cup. Rather than feeling awkward because of what some may consider his celebrity status, it was like talking to a guy you’ve known all of your life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, if you read a few of his reviews and they mention how incredibly personable Devon is and how he can put you at ease simply with the power of his conversation; believe it because it’s a perfect description.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Devon Hunter's Blog - <a href="http://www.devonhunter.info/">An Online Diary of a Gay Courtesan</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/Devon_Hunter">http://www.twitter.com/Devon_Hunter</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-44600812477874816702011-03-25T18:05:00.000-07:002011-03-25T18:05:38.147-07:00Meet The Author - PostponedDue to technical difficulties, Meet the Author with J. P. Barnaby is being postponed until May.<br />
If you have questions about the series, you can interact with me on my threat of the Dreamspinner group, my facebook page, Twitter, or by email.<br />
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Thank you!<br />
J. P. Barnaby<br />
<a href="http://www.jpbarnaby.com/">http://www.jpbarnaby.com/</a><br />
@JPBarnabyJ. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-88084904915051009722011-03-20T16:45:00.000-07:002011-03-20T16:45:10.935-07:00Queer Magazine Online - An Interview with Rowan SpeedwellQueer Magazine Online blog post: An Interview with Rowan Speedwell - <a href="http://www.queermagazineonline.com/author-interviews/author-interviews">http://www.queermagazineonline.com/author-interviews/author-interviews</a>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-82585594233365083452011-03-20T00:20:00.000-07:002011-03-20T00:20:44.571-07:00EVENT: Meet the Author J. P. Barnaby<div style="float: left; width: 400px;"><span class="dtstart">March 26, 2011 12:00PM <span class="value-title" title="2011-03-26 12:00:00"></span>-- 05:00PM CST<span class="value-title" title="2011-03-26 17:00:00"></span></span><br />
<div><a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/dreamspinnerpress" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span style="color: #666600;">http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/dreamspinnerpress</span></a> </div></div><br class="clear" /><br />
<h3> </h3><h3>Description</h3><div class="description">Meet J. P. Barnaby - the author of the Little Boy Lost series when she takes over the Dreamspinner Facebook page. </div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-717452119626254290.post-63613969899157929712011-03-20T00:06:00.000-07:002011-03-20T00:06:13.242-07:00EVENT: Joyfully Reviewed Chat<div class="mediumText" style="float: left; width: 480px;"><div style="float: left; width: 400px;"><span class="dtstart">March 24, 2011 07:00PM <span class="value-title" title="2011-03-24 19:00:00"></span>-- 08:00PM (CST)</span> <div> </div><div><a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Chatting_with_Joyfully_Reviewed" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span style="color: #666600;">http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Chatting_with_Joyfully_Reviewed</span></a> </div><div><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3166396-j-p-barnaby"><span style="color: #666600;">J.P. Barnaby</span></a> </div></div><br class="clear" /><br />
<h3>Description:</h3><div class="description">Come chat with me Thursday night, March 24th and talk about anything you want - The Forbidden Room, Little Boy Lost, writing, BDSM, love, McRibs - any topic you'd like! </div><br />
</div><br class="clear" />J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0