On to the third excerpt in my mini erotica-fest. This Cleis Press anthology is veteran erotica author Tenille Brown's
first outing as an editor, and it's one hell of a theme to begin with. Tenille
appealed for stories to fulfil this brief:
Have you ever been so hot for your lover that you decided
not to go to the dinner you were invited to? Or maybe you got so turned on
watching her work the room at a party you had to duck into a coat closet during
cocktails. Remember the time you called in sick to work because you simply
couldn't put down your vibrator?
Can't Get Enough will contain just these types of stories. An anthology filled with tales of insatiable desire, authors will bring forth stories brimming with sex, kinks and fetishes that you simply can't get enough of, sex you want so much that you can't make it home without having to swing by a shady motel or pull off into a vacant lot.
Can't Get Enough will contain just these types of stories. An anthology filled with tales of insatiable desire, authors will bring forth stories brimming with sex, kinks and fetishes that you simply can't get enough of, sex you want so much that you can't make it home without having to swing by a shady motel or pull off into a vacant lot.
I realised this could be interpreted in many different ways.
As a keen but very amateur runner, I had come across events such as the Tough
Mudder obstacle races. And so I started to think about a couple of sporty guys
training for such an event. And how that would be with a BDSM slant. And what might happen to distract them during the race. Here's the
start of the story:
Dean was ahead already. I admired his ass as his soaked
shorts clung to its contours. He was always faster than me, although in a race
like this anything could happen. We’d trained for months for the ultimate
endurance test, The Toughest Ten, bored of marathons and ironman triathlons. It
was Dean who first turned me into a fitness freak. After spotting him lifting
weights at the gym I found myself going more and more often in the hope of
bumping into him and being able to watch him putting his magnificent body
through its paces. It was the body of an underwear model. Or perhaps a sculpted
Greek god.
One day, after we’d graduated to swapping names and a terse
hello, he said to me, “Hey Joe, how about doing a marathon with me?”
“Sure,” I said, before engaging brain. The most I ran was
half an hour on the treadmill, never outdoors. I was just blessed with a
naturally toned physique that looked like it saw the inside of a gym far more
than my actual couple of hours a week. He soon realized this. But he was
patient, quietly sharing training tips, chivvying me along when my spirits
flagged and coaxing me to push myself. Without ever sounding patronizing.
I guess it was the chemistry between us. He wouldn’t have
put up with me otherwise. Sometimes he slipped into sergeant major style, even
name calling – “Come on you worthless faggot, get your butt moving before I
order the lads to give you a beasting.” It was all play acting. He’d been in
the army for a while. He told me he left because he enjoyed the rough treatment
too much. He feared for his wellbeing. And that was the funny thing about our
relationship. He was stronger, faster and could endure far more than me. But it
was me who got to wrestle him to the floor, grab handfuls of his hair, slap him
and call him my bitch. He responded in an immediate physical way, going weak at
the knees, eager to drop and suck my cock or let me pound into his ass
mercilessly.
“Fuck, Joe,” he’d say, “you do things to me. Things I
haven’t been able to experience with any other man.”
He knew I’d be watching him as he pulled ahead in the
Toughest Ten. It wasn’t just a run. It was a ten-mile course with ten obstacle
stages – mud, ice, fire, water, walls and more to crawl through, swim, wade or
climb. Designed by the military’s elite, it put those crazy enough to attempt
it through hell and provided the best endorphin buzz available without
mind-altering substances.
Our training had covered most of the types of challenge we
faced. More thoroughly than necessary, to be honest. I’d confidently bet none
of our competitors had submitted to having their balls zapped in order to
prepare for the electric fence field.
You can buy the book at Amazon US and Amazon UK and check out the Can't Get Enough blog for reviews, interviews, excerpts and more.

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