Happy Saturday and welcome to another My Sexy Saturday! Today I decided to give you a taste of my short story, The Prince Wore Pink Stilettos, my second release with Dreamspinner. It's a coming of age story set in the 70's, and begins when Michael's daughter finds something in the attic that sends him down memory lane, and straight toward his first crush - Rob Marshall. Enjoy! And don't forget to visit the rest of Blog Hop here!
And then Rob came onto the scene—dropped into my life like a beautiful deus ex machina, although at first I had no idea that was what he was. I simply knew that this new boy, this mid-year transfer student, was gorgeous—at least to me he was—and he made my head spin every time I saw him. And my cock jump. Which was fairly often, as he managed to end up in most of my classes. Which was a source of great secret joy as well as great misery. For one of those classes was—yes, you guessed it—gym. And he came during the quarter that we were taking swimming. So yes, that entailed a lot of dressing and undressing and showering and seeing him clad in either nothing or in school-provided standard issue swim trunks—which weren’t very sexy, but to a hormonally challenged boy such as myself, they were sheer torture, ’cause he managed to flesh them out so very nicely. And when he rose from the side of the pool, shaking that great mane of his back and forth, oh my God, he simply dripped sex.
At least to me he did. For some reason the rest of the school found him to be strange and standoffish and wanted nothing to do with him. Like me, he was a loner, a fish out of water, if you’ll pardon the unintentional pun, but I wasn’t sure why. He paid no attention to the people around him, either male or female, and my first hopeful thought that perhaps he was gay simply dissipated as so much utter nonsense and wishful thinking on my part. Whatever he was, he was keeping very much to himself.
He was easily as tall as I was—and at that time I had almost attained my full height of six foot—at least from what I could tell from the distance I kept between us, his hair a beautiful auburn, thick and rich, which fell to his shoulders in unadulterated waves. His eyes were hazel, flecked with gold, and when I dared stare at him during class, they seemed to exude a dreaminess that enveloped him in a romantic aura that never failed to get to me. What did his voice sound like, you ask, this virtual god’s? I didn’t know, for I’d never gotten up the nerve to talk to him, simply worshipped him from afar, and wondered what it would be like to kiss those pretty pink lips, so soft looking, so sensual.They were full, and feminine, giving him the air of a perpetual pout—a look which kept me in perpetual heat. I quickly discovered the best places in the school for quick wanks when things got to be too bad—which seemed to be almost a daily occurrence, unfortunately. And I learned to carry a bit of cologne with me to disguise the scent of cum, which had a tendency to linger after said wanking sessions.
When I was sixteen I got my first job—thanks to my sister Brenda. I needed the money for my own personal uses. Not that my parents didn’t buy me things, but one couldn’t very well approach one’s mother and say can I have some cash, the new wanking mag is out? Not happening. So I considered myself lucky when Bren managed to get me on at the grocery store where she was a part-time checker. I started out as a bagger and worked my way up to stock boy, taking the overnight shift on the weekends, ’cause I didn’t
mind, and no one else wanted those hours. It was easy work, and it was peaceful, ’cause there weren’t a lot of customers, and what few there were tended to stay to themselves, finding what they wanted and leaving fairly quickly, so I was able to do what I needed to do in good time and go home. The people I worked with were nice, for the most part, and they didn’t go to my school—a double bonus—so I got along with them just fine—the two checkers who worked overnight, the other stock people, the cleaning people. It was nice to be accepted as simply Michael, the stock boy, not the weirdo from the high school.
By my senior year, I was comfortable with what I was doing, even as I realized that it wouldn’t last forever—real life and a real job would intrude at some point, perhaps even college, although I was still undecided on that point. It wasn’t like I was doing anything else on the weekends now—nor had I blossomed into any sort of social butterfly. I had no desire to date the girls and not enough nerve to date the boys. And no one of either gender was exactly beating a path to my door, either. So I figured I might as well work and earn some money so I could buy more magazines with pictures of nude men, the kind I meticulously hid from my mother. And in the meantime, I watched Rob Marshall—moaning to myself with repressed desire whenever he chewed at his lower lip in class or when he became lost in thought and would get this faraway look in his beautiful hazel eyes. But he never looked my way as I worshipped him from afar, and I knew that once the school year was over, I’d probably never see him again. Damn, why was life so shitty?
And then came the night that changed my life forever.
I hope you enjoyed it! Prince is available at Dreamspinner Press
Until next time, take care!