#1 in BOYxBOY, MANxMAN, HOMOEROTIC, HUNKS, DUDES, and ONESHOTS | Sexy one-shots and romantic short stories. From love at first sight to love through the years, these tales cover hunky dudes in love, lust, and passion in every aspect. From Ernie and...
VIDEO above: World Famous Church Street - Toronto's Gay Village
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** This is a novella about two extra-hot twenty-something hunks, both hungering for that elusive happily-ever-after but not really believing it's for them. It has some lengthy chapters and a lot of introspective mind-rambling by Sanchez, the narrator, but if you like fated love and dudes who would die for each other, this is for you.
Part 1 - THE CITY
SANCHEZ has a crazy night in Toronto, looking for love in all the wrong places ...
I had to get away from New York City. I had two contracted books to finish for my publisher and only three weeks to do it. I'd never get the work done in Manhattan, not with all my helicopter friends and the distractions on the street right outside my door in hot humid early August. Oh yeah, the temptations all over town would definitely keep me away from my work, and no way would I get the manuscripts in on time.
So I decided, Screw it! I packed my laptop and some gear, got an Uber out to JFK, and flew to Toronto. There I rented a car and drove a couple hundred kilometers north to cottage country, to Indian Lake in central Ontario where I could have the peace and quiet I needed to write, twenty-seven wonderful kilometers into the bush and muskeg from the nearest town.
The old log cabin I'd been vacationing in since I was a kid was there waiting for me. Lucky me, I was the only one who ever used it now. One of my great-grandfathers had built it way back in the 1940s. He was an Ojibwa Indian which, of course, makes me part Ojibwa too. They don't call them Indians much in Canada anymore like we still do in the States. First Nations. First Peoples. Aboriginals. Indigenous. All that kind of PC stuff. But they still called it Indian Lake, and a whole lot of them live on a reserve across the waters from the cabin.
This afternoon, Friday three weeks later, right around four, I clicked away both manuscripts in emails to my publisher. Right on time, too. And by seven I'd shaved, showered, and pulled on a pair of jeans and a snug black fishnet tee that showed off my bod real nice. I'd lost seven pounds hiking, running, swimming every day - real good when you're already muscled, ripped, and shredded. At six-one and 182 pounds, it was my awesome best in a long time. I looked good and felt incredibly good and, as a result, I was horny as fuck.
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