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The skim of his clothes was a secretive sound in the blue tinted gloom of the pre-dawn hour, a lament that throbbed under his skin. Oz mused that the feeling was fitting as he tried not to wake the figure deeply asleep in the sex-rumpled bed. The form moved restlessly at the rasp of shoelaces, stilling Oz in the chair he was sitting in for a moment. The man quieted and Oz finished dressing before standing to thread his arms through his long woolen coat.

The clink of his glasses being lifted from the bedside table caused the man to roll over onto his stomach, the sheets slipping down to expose the tops of his buttocks. He was still, thankfully slumbering on, as Oz stood motionless next to the bed, looking his fill. Oz’s body ached from the pleasure he’d indulged in throughout the night. His skin hunger and physical needs finally assuaged after so long a drought of chosen celibacy. He lingered for a long moment more; admiring the masculine beauty of the stranger he’d given his body to. Shaking himself, he moved away as disquiet sliced through his gut, remembering the tears that had burned in the corner of his eyes in the midst of sex. Read More

This excerpt is a first draft of chapter one of my original novel, Crescent City Boogaloo started during 2016’s National Novel Writing Month.


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