Chapter 1

When it came right down to it, Tom Weber thought, this was Chase’s—no last name—fault.

It all started with a story Tom had found on Natty, a gay website that accepted stories from anyone who cared to submit them. The stories ranged from excellently well done to those that desperately needed an editor with a handle on grammar, spelling, and continuity. Most of the stories were the sort that were read with one hand, although some actually had a plot to go with the sexy-times.

The story Tom had found that Saturday afternoon was one of the better ones that combined good writing with good storytelling and a very hot plot—so hot Tom had thought he was going to come without even touching his dick, which was like an iron bar in his jeans. And while the main character was a bottom, he was like none Tom had ever come across in real life—a man who topped from the bottom. It was a fascinating premise.

Tom scoured the Nattyindex of authors and was delighted to find a number of stories written by this man. Each one was as good as the first, and he read them one after the other, becoming almost drunk on them.

Although Tom searched the Net, he was unable to learn anything more about the writer who wrote The Rain, the Park, and Random Blowjobs. And because Tom’s curiosity had been so thoroughly aroused—along with other things—he determined to find out as much as he could.

Being a chemistry professor at Pulaski and Jasper University here in Savannah, Tom knew the value of feedback. He found Chase’s contact information, pulled up a blank email, and wrote to him, praising his story and asking if he had anything else on the Net.

He was surprised when he got a reply not half an hour after he’d hit send. Chase thanked him for his kind words and sent him the link to his own website.

So Tom clicked on the link and found a variety of stories that were based on movies, TV shows, and even music. The stories had given Tom a hot, fascinating glimpse into how the bottom half lived, and he enjoyed them immensely, so much so Tom wrote back to Chase to let him know, and to ask if Tom might get a sneak preview of his latest stories.

* * * *

Tom knew the archivist of Nattyposted new stories on the weekend, but Chase had agreed to send Tom advanced copies. That Friday, Tom hurried his students from the chem lab, relieved he didn’t have student hours that day, and rushed home.

He tossed his messenger bag onto the floor under the console table by his front door and sat down in front of his computer. He turned it on and logged into his email program.

Yes!There was an email from Chase, and it had an attachment. Tom felt his excitement rise as his mouth went dry and his cock grew hard—Chase’s stories gave Tom many hours of solitary pleasure. Of course he didn’t need the stories when he was in the company of very attractive twinks. Tom might have been short, but he was a leather daddy through and through, and those pretty little gay boys fluttered around him like moths to the proverbial flame.

This story—Let’s Fly, about a top who viewed bottoms as a necessary means to his own pleasure, although he considered theirs immaterial, and learned the error of his belief when he came across a bottom who was tougher than he was—was no exception.

Tom printed out the story, took it to his bedroom, and removed his professor clothes—a suit and button-down shirt—and hung them up, then stripped down to his skin. He slicked up a dildo he’d bought shortly after he’d discovered Chase’s stories and made himself comfortable on his bed. He lubed his ass, drew in a breath, and eased in the dildo. He left it there and began reading the story.

It wasn’t long before the level of heat in Let’s Flyhad him letting the pages fall to the side. He withdrew the dildo, teased his rim, and slid it back in again.

Mmm. Having his prostate massaged—one of Chase’s characters had said it was one of the things that made being a man such a happy thing. Tom had always thought it was having his dick massaged by a nice, tight ass, but now he understood what the character was talking about.

Tom raised his knees to his chest, teased his balls, then gripped his cock, all the while driving himself wild as he worked the dildo in and out of his ass.

“Yeah, fuck, yeah. Give it to me, baby,” he muttered to an imaginary lover. It felt amazing. One last, hard brush against his prostate, and Tom shouted and shot his wad all over his chest.