Story Preview: August 2019 (Warning: Spoilers)

What's coming up for August? Click and find out. Warning, though ... there be spoilers past the cut.

First up, let me say that my plan for August has changed from what I said in the July preview. I planned to post three "Reunion" stories this month, but I've decided that I'll post two on my regular schedule of the 1st and 15th. I think this is the wrong time to accelerate posting. I'm looking at making some changes in how I write these stories. 177 stories has been a lot for me to write, but I realize that it's also been a lot for you to read. Perhaps too much.

In the short-term, I plan to keep up my twice-monthly schedule, so don't worry about that. It's more of a narrative reset. Immediately, I'm considering adjusting my writing to reduce story length and complexity. Characters are key, but pages of exposition and setup are not. The ratio of story to action may be out of whack. We'll see how it goes, but any stylistic changes won't happen until November at the earliest.

Anyway, on to August, which still feature a lot of story ...

8/1/19: Encounters: The Wedding Crash

Quinn, Trevor, Jeremy.

More all-new characters. Weddings always bring people back together. In this case, long-time pals who live on opposite coasts use it as a chance to hook up. Quinn has an announcement for Trevor. Trevor has an announcement for Quinn. But when young groomsman Jeremy gets in the middle of this reunion, tensions rise fast, relationships are tested, and life-changing decisions get made.

Hotel Wellington. Kansas City MO. Private Dining Room.

“And so, please rise and join me in toasting Mark and Todd.” We rise and raise our glasses, grateful that the longest and most boring toast in history is done. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t heart-warming. It wasn’t anything but a rambling mess. At least it’s over. Or not. Brad keeps talking. “I know you two will … blah, blah blah.”

Some of the older folks in the room actually have to lower their arms as the ‘best man’ rambles on for another three minutes before finally letting us clink glasses. CLINK! Everyone starts to mingle as the busboys finally get a chance to clear the plates and refill water glasses. I sit back down at my place and immediately feel Trevor’s hot breath on my ear.

Trevor whispers, “Oh my god, Quinn. That. Was. Exhausting.” I just nod with a smile, not wanting anyone to think this is anything more than idle small talk. He's Mark’s groomsman #4 and I'm #5 in this overly elaborate wedding, so I don’t want to be rude in front of friends and family. He sighs, “And this is just the rehearsal dinner. Wait until he gives his full speech tomorrow. Fuck it. I’m going on my phone as soon as he starts.”

I whisper with a smile, “Be nice.”

Trevor rolls his eyes and takes another big swig of complimentary top-shelf scotch. He whispers, “That’s the problem with this world. Everyone is so busy being nice that idiots like Brad go though life not knowing that they’re idiots and us non-idiots suffer for it.”

I smoothly reach under the table and squeeze his leg to calm him down. Still thick and strong, just like I remember. He grabs my wrist and shifts my hand onto his bulge. Thank god for long white tablecloths. I rub it gently. Still huge, just like I remember. I can't take it any more, giving him a look, “Have we done our duty?” He gives me a smirk and nod.

As I rise, I casually say for anyone who might be eavesdropping, “I'm headed to the bar. Do you want anything?”

Trevor replies, “Just give me a second to finish this and I’ll join you.”

I smirk as he dramatically drains his already empty glass. I know he's really just letting his cock settle down before he stands up in front of a room of our friends and their family. His too tight dress pants can’t really hide his magnificent meat when it’s soft, never mind now that I’ve got him horned up. I can’t wait to get him on the mattress, wrestling and fucking until dawn.

Todd’s brother and best man, Jeremy, overhears and stands up like he’s joining us. Fuck. Trevor told me they hooked up at the Vegas bachelor weekend, which I had to miss. No surprise, since my buddy is an incredibly good looking muscleman and Jeremy is a hot young blond muscle boy. But what happened in Vegas needed to stay in Vegas. It’s over, kid.

I want to say he's not invited, but Trevor waves him over. When my buddy rises, he puts his arm over this intruder’s shoulder, guiding him forward. What the fuck? I'm not interested in some cocky kid who’s all body and no brains. This is supposed to be our annual hookup and I have something really important to tell my buddy.

We pass the bar, heading directly to the elevators. As we wait for the doors to open, I give Trevor a questioning look, but he not-so-subtly points at Jeremy's ass and winks. I get it. The guy’s pants are stretched tight over his plump round butt. Yeah, he does squats. Good for him. He's also 19, dumb as a bag of rocks, and interfering with my plans.

8/15/19: Encounters: The High School Reunion

The narrator, Mr. Maxon

I've had many ideas around high school reunions and this is one of my favorite ones. When an unpopular kid returns, he absolutely wants to show everyone up. And when he's a tech billionaire with a bodybuilder physique and a model's face, it shouldn't be hard. But when it comes to a certain roughneck gym teacher, just being successful won't be enough. It's time to hit the mats. Body hair is on the line when hairy hunks face off in this inter-generational battle.

“You have won.”

My large manicured hands run over my sculpted and perfectly-trimmed torso as I watch in the bathroom mirror. I turn my remarkably handsome face to admire my professionally-groomed stubble, $300 messy haircut and flawless tanned skin. It costs a lot to look this chill, but I’ve got it and I’m worth it.

“You’re a genius. You’re gorgeous. You’re a fucking billionaire.”

Yes, I am all of those things, but it never hurts to remind oneself. Especially on a night as important as this one. My return to the scene of the crimes against me. My triumphant return. I fluff under my hefty manhood. I've fucked royalty, pro athletes and the hottest celebrities in Hollywood but none of that will be as satisfying as revenge fucking Mr. Maxon.

I stare into the bathroom mirror, caressing my body and ego. My cock grows hard as I think about tonight. In every way possible, I’m better than every single person in this dump, which is the only decent hotel in my home town. Decent? Yeah, right. God, everything sucks. I can’t believe I grew up here. I’m like the only rose that grew up in this dystopian hell.

“I’ve won at life. They’ve lost. Time to make sure they never forget it.”

Okay, I’m ready. I shrug the robe off my broad shoulders to the unheated fake stone floor. So cheap. I flex my sculpted peaks then look down past my massive pecs at my tree trunk legs. It’s a body built with the best trainers in the world. It’s almost a shame to cover it with clothes, but I guess I have to. As I move to the closet, I glance at the invitation on the nightstand.

St. Anthony’s High School. Class of 2009. The Fighting Cardinals. An all-boys school that claimed to make men. All-assholes is more like it. A living hell for a brilliant but physically frail teen like I was. Shunned for my genius, I lacked the ability to fight back with anything but my wicked wit. I could out-sarcasm any of them, but they were usually too stupid to understand my references. God, I still hate these people for what they put me through.

I cross my suite’s living room confidently. I squat down to run my fingers on the black wrestling mat with a smile. When you have money, hotels will do anything for you. Including moving furniture and laying this down. They never ask why. They just add it to the bill. I know why. My very special revenge. I will do what I came to do and then head home. On my private jet.

As I enter the lobby, I think about how many of these guys have been on my dating platform. 38%. Yes, I checked. And that includes teachers. It includes Mr. Maxon. My former gym teacher and the biggest bully at St. Anthony’s. My biggest bully, for sure. How he fucking tortured me. Maxon was just 28 in my freshman year, but he was already pure evil. And I had to endure his cruel torture every year. Somehow, he always ended up teaching my gym class. I was sure he just hunted me down for the sport of it. Now, I’m the one hunting him.

Happy August, guys.

Alex