Warning: some stories in this anthology are classed as BarbarianSpy eXtreme and contain rough sex, reluctance and BDSM.
It isn’t just the act of sex alone that can be rough for a gay male. The relationships involved and the whole circumstance in which one male comes together with another (or more than one) male to satisfy basic hungers can be explosive in both physical and emotional terms. In this compendium of fifty short stories, habu hones in on giving readers some scintillating examples of tales and circumstances—and sexual acts—that are on the rougher side in more than one dimension. This collection isn’t for the faint of heart—but it’s a must read for those who like their GM stories rough and raw, both physically and emotionally.
This e-book is an expansion for BarbarianSpy of the eXcessica anthology published as Rough Rides.
From “9:30 Bus from Abilene”
The two cowboys sat down at my table.
“Hi, I’m Tex,” the older one said as he sat down. “This here’s Dusty.” They were both wearing the traditional ten-gallon cowboy’s hat and Dusty just tipped his hat at me without saying anything. But he had a big grin on his face.
“Hi, I’m Glade,” I answered.
“Glade. That’s an unusual name,” Tex said.
“Yeah. I sorta picked it out myself,” I said. “Didn’t much care for what I’d been called before that.” I didn’t tell them that it was my stage name. All of us pole dancers picked out names that the customers would find intriguing and easy to remember. Most picked out suggestive or downright explicit names. I had wanted to be a bit more subtle with mine.
“Goin’ far?” Tex asked.
“All the way to Denver,” I answered.
“Dusty and me are gettin’ off in Durango. We work a cattle ranch west of there. Been down in Abilene to see the sights. Were you in Abilene long or just passing through from somewheres else?”
“I was there a couple of months,” I answered. I was feeling a little disconcerted. Dusty wasn’t saying anything, but his leg was touching mine, and I felt those old yearnings building up inside me. Dusty was a real hunk. The strong silent type. And he was touching me. Any man who touched me set me going.
“Found something to do in Abilene, did you?” Tex asked. He was eyeing me with those piercing blues of his. It made me scared to lie.
“Oh, this and that,” I answered.
“You look kinda familiar, like we’ve seen you before. Dusty was remarking on that when we saw you climb into the bus. Spent any time around the tenderloin district? That’s mostly where Dusty and me sat drinkin’ our beers. Place called Rapier mostly. Any chance we’d have seen you there?”
“I’ve heard of it,” I answered in a rather tight voice. More than heard of it, it was one of three clubs Dave owned. I’d pole danced there. I wondered if Tex was establishing something with me—not just about me, but about him and Dusty too. You didn’t go into the Rapier looking for women.
Tex started to say something else, but the bus driver was tooting his horn, and it was time for all of us to make that last rest stop and to return to the bus.
When we climbed back into the bus, Dusty returned to his seat, but Tex followed me back to where I’d been sitting and sat down in the aisle seat right next to me.
The driver started up the bus and got back onto the road. I tried to settle my nerves. Tex’s leg was right up against mine, as was his upper arm. I could feel the hardness of his lean body through his checkered shirt. I was wearing an athletic T, so my biceps were bare. Just a thin layer of shirting between me and Tex’s hard, warm skin.
“Born and raised in Texas?” Tex asked.
“No,” I responded. “Lived here and there before that—mostly in the Midwest.”
“Family in Texas or in Denver? Going to Denver to visit family?” Tex asked.
“No. No family,” I answered. “No family anywhere.”
“None at all?” Tex asked. His face was turned to me and his pale blue eyes were full of sympathy.
“No. I was an orphan. Floated around a lot. A couple of foster families, but not anything I’d want to talk much about.” I turned my head toward the window. My eyes had suddenly gotten a little watery, and I didn’t want Tex to see that.
“No one at all waitin’ for you in Denver, either?” Tex asked. His voice was soft, full of concern.
“No. No one at all,” I answered. “Just startin’ out again. I do that a lot. I start out again a lot.”
I was still looking out the window, but I could see the reflection of Tex’s face in the window, as I thought he could see mine.
He had a hand on my thigh, just above the knee now, and I’m sure he could feel me trembling.
“Just relax, Glade,” he was whispering to me. “You’re so tense. I can help you with that.”
