Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter by Edited by Selena Kitt Page B
Authors: Edited by Selena Kitt
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rented costume. Clinging to the illusion, though, he turned around so
I could see the full effect—the boots that squeaked when he moved, the
wide expanse of red cloth that covered his ass. “You like?”
What I liked was the dude out in the dining room… “Who’s that out
there?” I wanted to know. “I thought that was you.”
A look of horror crossed Chris’s face and he stood up on his toes, trying
to see out of the pass-through window. A bell jingled as the front door opened.
“Someone’s here? This late?”
“Santa Claus.” I stepped out behind the front counter and surveyed the
suddenly empty dining room. The coffee cup sat on the table where he’d left it,
and the taste of him still lingered in my mouth. “He was right here,” I said
softly, as if trying to convince myself.
My lips pulled into a goofy grin that I tried to tamp down. It couldn’t…
the guy didn’t exist, right? It was just a tale for children, wasn’t it? “Santa
Claus,” I whispered—it couldn’t have been, no way, no how , but in
my heart I knew it had. “Jesus, it was really him. It had to be.” Chris
gave me a confused look and I tried to find the words to explain the magical
feeling that began to bubble up inside of me. “The real Santa was here, right here, I swear it. He came in, and I thought it was you, and so I…”
I trailed off, unwilling to share the moment. I remembered kneeling between
Santa’s legs, his dick in my hands, its tender tip against my lips the second
before I took it into my mouth. Lust curled through me at the memory. And he’d
liked it, no? What did he tell me? You’ve been a very good boy indeed.
Santa only comes
once a year. This year, it was because of me.
About J.M.
Snyder
An author of
gay erotic/romantic fiction, J.M. Snyder began in self-publishing and now works
with Amber Quill, Aspen Mountain, eXcessica publishing, and Torquere Presses. Snyder’s
short fiction has appeared online at Ruthie’s Club, Tit-Elation, Eros Monthly,
and Amazon Shorts, as well as in anthologies released by Aspen Mountain Press,
Cleis Press, eXcessica publishing and Alyson Books. For more book excerpts,
free fiction, and purchasing information, please visit http://jmsnyder.net .
SAN DIEGO SUNSET
By Alessia Brio
and Will Belegon
~ ONE ~
He awoke with
the same image in his mind again: the beach at sunset with the cliffs behind
him and the mysterious dark-haired woman in his arms. The same exact dream for
months now! They lay naked on a towel in the sand, khaki clothing tossed
carelessly to the sand nearby, entwined in the reverent stillness that so often
follows urgent sex. He always woke at just the wrong moment—right before
she told him her name.
The mornings
always seemed colder when he had the dream, for some reason. The aftereffects
only intensified as winter began to feel its power and the wind whistled up the
Columbia River. The Portland wind always carried a little chill, but lately it
stole more than the warmth of his coffee. It seemed as though it dimmed the
dawn—as if the sun could light his way but not warm his shoulders. The
feeling would evaporate with the dew, only to return in a few nights when the
dream recurred. It was bittersweet, because although the morning following
always felt empty, it held a comfort as well: a feeling of purpose that had
been lacking in his life since he had moved north. The days after the dream
inevitably produced a breakthrough or a conclusion, as though just the presence
of the mysterious woman in the back of his mind could free him to look at
things in fresh ways and find new solutions to old problems. She was a paradox:
a calming presence that drove his life in uncomfortable directions. The days
when she did not spring to mind were both less stressful and less complete.
He was sure he
had the beach nailed down now. It was Black's Beach in his hometown. While he
had never been down on the sand there, he had seen many pictures.
I could see the full effect—the boots that squeaked when he moved, the
wide expanse of red cloth that covered his ass. “You like?”
What I liked was the dude out in the dining room… “Who’s that out
there?” I wanted to know. “I thought that was you.”
A look of horror crossed Chris’s face and he stood up on his toes, trying
to see out of the pass-through window. A bell jingled as the front door opened.
“Someone’s here? This late?”
“Santa Claus.” I stepped out behind the front counter and surveyed the
suddenly empty dining room. The coffee cup sat on the table where he’d left it,
and the taste of him still lingered in my mouth. “He was right here,” I said
softly, as if trying to convince myself.
My lips pulled into a goofy grin that I tried to tamp down. It couldn’t…
the guy didn’t exist, right? It was just a tale for children, wasn’t it? “Santa
Claus,” I whispered—it couldn’t have been, no way, no how , but in
my heart I knew it had. “Jesus, it was really him. It had to be.” Chris
gave me a confused look and I tried to find the words to explain the magical
feeling that began to bubble up inside of me. “The real Santa was here, right here, I swear it. He came in, and I thought it was you, and so I…”
I trailed off, unwilling to share the moment. I remembered kneeling between
Santa’s legs, his dick in my hands, its tender tip against my lips the second
before I took it into my mouth. Lust curled through me at the memory. And he’d
liked it, no? What did he tell me? You’ve been a very good boy indeed.
Santa only comes
once a year. This year, it was because of me.
About J.M.
Snyder
An author of
gay erotic/romantic fiction, J.M. Snyder began in self-publishing and now works
with Amber Quill, Aspen Mountain, eXcessica publishing, and Torquere Presses. Snyder’s
short fiction has appeared online at Ruthie’s Club, Tit-Elation, Eros Monthly,
and Amazon Shorts, as well as in anthologies released by Aspen Mountain Press,
Cleis Press, eXcessica publishing and Alyson Books. For more book excerpts,
free fiction, and purchasing information, please visit http://jmsnyder.net .
SAN DIEGO SUNSET
By Alessia Brio
and Will Belegon
~ ONE ~
He awoke with
the same image in his mind again: the beach at sunset with the cliffs behind
him and the mysterious dark-haired woman in his arms. The same exact dream for
months now! They lay naked on a towel in the sand, khaki clothing tossed
carelessly to the sand nearby, entwined in the reverent stillness that so often
follows urgent sex. He always woke at just the wrong moment—right before
she told him her name.
The mornings
always seemed colder when he had the dream, for some reason. The aftereffects
only intensified as winter began to feel its power and the wind whistled up the
Columbia River. The Portland wind always carried a little chill, but lately it
stole more than the warmth of his coffee. It seemed as though it dimmed the
dawn—as if the sun could light his way but not warm his shoulders. The
feeling would evaporate with the dew, only to return in a few nights when the
dream recurred. It was bittersweet, because although the morning following
always felt empty, it held a comfort as well: a feeling of purpose that had
been lacking in his life since he had moved north. The days after the dream
inevitably produced a breakthrough or a conclusion, as though just the presence
of the mysterious woman in the back of his mind could free him to look at
things in fresh ways and find new solutions to old problems. She was a paradox:
a calming presence that drove his life in uncomfortable directions. The days
when she did not spring to mind were both less stressful and less complete.
He was sure he
had the beach nailed down now. It was Black's Beach in his hometown. While he
had never been down on the sand there, he had seen many pictures.
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