Desperate Lovers by Adam Carpenter (good beach reads TXT) 📕

travelers. They seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. But they do that a lot, don’t they? Sawyer’s modeling jobs taking him away, and, from what I hear, Dane is getting himself into something kinky. Not good, not good at all. Those boys need to stay home and protect their livelihood. But of course youth think they are invincible. They will soon learn how vulnerable they are.”

Paolo found himself suddenly backing away from the sexy man before him, attraction taking a back seat to his ominous words. “I don’t get it, Parker, who are you working for? You seem to have put your faith in Danvers Converse and his plan to convert our homes into a resort, but yet…here you are, a part of Eldon Court, taking up residence at Number Two like it’s your birthright. And who knows, maybe your claim is true…that you deserve it. But can anyone trust you? Should anyone trust you? Us, Converse?”

“Let’s leave my motives to myself,” Parker said. “Now, Paolo, I appreciate all the info you’ve passed on, you’re a good boy. And do you know what good boys get?”

Paolo swallowed hard, knowing just what Parker meant. The condom he produced spelled it out clearly.

The man stripped off his remaining clothes, his huge, thick cock growing fast amidst a bed of bushy pubes. Paolo watched as the cock twitched with anticipation; his ass puckered at the mere thought of that tool hammering him. He lay down on the ground, his legs instantly pointed toward the sun, just past high noon. It would be sometime before they came down, not quite sundown but long enough for him to feel the effects of a powerful fucking he’d long felt denied him.

That giant cock pierced him with an angry thrust and a bellowing grunt from Parker. And while he thrust and pushed and urged every thick inch deep inside Paolo, Paolo just closed his eyes and clung to the hairy body above him, grabbing at thick coils of chest hair and at the rough patches of fur on his strong back, Parker howled at the sun like a werewolf unafraid of the daylight. Fuck, but this sexy guy was really hairy, more so than anyone Paolo had ever had, and he reveled in the animalistic coupling.

Parker thrust more, harder, faster, harder still, Paolo urging him, begging for more, more, every fucking inch, and finally Parker shot his load deep inside him, causing Paolo’s eyes to roll inside his head and wait for his own shocking climax. He dug his nails deep into Parker’s hairy back as orgasm wracked his body, once, twice, a third gusher shooting onto his own bare, tanned chest.

“You’re a fucking beast, Parker,” Paolo said between breaths.

“You know it. And I’m way better than Rich North, right, thicker, hairier?” Parker asked, his confident façade showing an odd weakness.

And damned if Paolo wasn’t confused, not just by the question but by how Parker St. John might have known he’d had sex with Rich, and also, why the fuck did it matter anyway who was better, bigger, hung, or hairy?

Paolo felt empty now, not just his ass but his soul, his climax having drained him. Parker’s massive cock withdrew from his tortured ass, and once again he silently begged for the cool water to take him away from all this inner turmoil. Again he had cheated on Aaron, and again he wasn’t sure why. There had to be peace, solitude, safety somewhere out there in this crazy mixed-up, fucked-up world. Just right now, Eldon Court wasn’t one of those places.

“Hello? Hey, anybody home? Marc…you in there?”

Aaron stood on the porch of Number Five Eldon Court, banging loudly on the door, hearing nothing but his own echo. Strange, Marc was usually home during the days—one of the few neighbors who was. But today, he seemed to have pulled the same disappearing act as the rest of the cul-de-sac. It was strangely quiet on Eldon Court; on his walk over, Aaron hadn’t seen any activity at Edgar and Jack’s, and truth be told, he hadn’t seen them in a couple of days. Dane and Sawyer, who knew what kind of hours and schedules they kept, jetting around the globe in pursuit of the mighty dollar. Rich was no doubt at the bank, and Paolo was out running errands. So that left Marc Anderson.

Aaron banged on the door louder and again got no result. He tried the door, found it locked. Not a surprise, given all that had been happening on their once-upon-a-time safe street. Aaron himself had his own concerns in the back of his mind, and wondered silently if he had locked his door.

He backed down from the porch and called out Marc’s name from the cultivated, green lawn, and seconds later a window opened up on the upper level of the beautiful Victorian house.

Marc stuck his head out and waved. “Hey, Aaron, sorry, can’t hear much when I’m in my studio. I’ll be right down.”

A minute later the front door opened, and Marc stepped out, his compact body in tight shorts and V-neck shirt stained with a rainbow of colors. He looked adorable, portrait of a young artist at work. Aaron, who was waiting for him on the porch, accepted the offer to join him upstairs.

“So long as you don’t pressure me to show my whole oeuvre.”

Aaron wasn’t sure he could even pronounce that word, so he easily promised.

Up three flights of stairs they went, emerging into Marc’s sunlit studio.

“Wow, this is beautiful, Marc, no wonder you spend so much time up here,” Aaron said, taking a gander out the back window at a lush view of the Pacific. With the window open, he could smell the brine of the ocean.

“Thanks, it’s a dream to work in such a place,” Marc said, quickly placing a sheet over his canvas in progress. He moved away from the easel, but that only made Aaron curious about what he was working on.

Looking around, he noticed perhaps a dozen other canvases, all of them facing the wall. He could see nothing of his