Below is an excerpt from Panama Heat. This novel is currently offered for free if you visit my pinned post on Twitter (@Peterschutes). It’s the story of a queer boy in early 20th Century New Orleans who, to avoid jail time for his sexual crimes, agrees to sign on for work on the Panama Canal. The all-male environment of the ship and the camps along the canal are feeding ground for Quentin’s insatiable hole. But deep inside, he really wants love.
This excerpt is from the first two chapters, which take place before his arrest and journey to Panama. The setting is New Orleans, 1904…
The Curzon was a popular hangout for sailors and enterprising women. Not every sailor had the money nor the inclination to pay for these women’s services. Quentin had no need of money, and his handsome face drew interest from the randy sailors in search of a good time. The Curzon had a rooming house right upstairs. It always had vacancies because they offered a discount on rooms rented by the hour.
Quentin entered the smoky bar and chose a barstool with a view of the entrance. It was early yet. He wanted to study his quarry.
The whores tolerated Quentin; they didn’t want to befriend a pervert. They kept a cool distance but they cooperated. Quentin sent talkative men of no persuasion to the nest of prostitutes across the bar, and they returned the favor whenever they clocked a john as a molly.
A steamboat full of Midwestern merchant marines tied up on the docks near the French Market. Within minutes a steady stream of seamen poured into the bar in search of carnal pleasures. Many handsome rakes passed Quentin by in search of a warm bosom. Quentin knew to expect some disappointment in the presence of the harlots. A sailor entered. The bar breathed a collective gasp for two reasons: the man was handsome, and he was big as a house. With each step, his thigh muscles bulged and strained against his white cotton pants. His broad shoulders were attached to arms bigger than Quentin’s legs.
The sailor tipped his hat at Quentin and sat his enormous buttocks on the next stool over.
He extended a sinewy hand. “Jacob Ayers.”
“Quentin Fournier.” He gulped.
Jacob smiled. “Don’t worry, friend. I may be big, but I’m gentle as a kitten.”
“How did you get so big?”
“Lifting barrels of sardines for ten hours a day. Feel that.” Jacob flexed his bicep, tearing at the fabric of his shirt sleeve. Quentin put both hands around the sailor’s massive arm but his fingers would not touch.
Quentin was skilled in the art of seduction. He knew when to stop talking. He the man’s arm for several more seconds, studying his face.
Jacob grinned. “Here, feel that.” He moved Quentin’s hands to his pectoral muscles. He flexed them one at a time in rapid succession.
Quentin whistled. “Holy Cow.” Again, he left his hands on the man longer than most would.
This was the moment. He smiled at Jacob, then let his eyes roam downward until they reached the crotch. He glanced at his prey, who never stopped smiling.
“Is it big like the rest of you”?
Jacob nodded.
* * *
Upstairs, Quentin watched the muscleman undress. His torso was unlike any he had seen. Dozens of tiny muscles rippled in unison as he folded his shirt. He grabbed Quentin’s shirt front and yanked it off, exposing Quentin’s thin, wiry frame. Quentin felt pressure on his knee; it was Jacob’s prick growing big and hard, straining against the pants.Quentin unbuttoned the sailor pants on the left and right, until they were loose enough to move. He tugged hard until they dislodged from the huge shelf of an ass. The legs were tight, so he had to work on them one at a time to prevent them from bunching up. The last hurdle was the cock, which leapt gracefully skyward once freed from its cloth prison.
Jacob’s cock was large. It appeared smaller framed against those meaty thighs, but it was a whopper. Quentin took the man’s hard shaft in his mouth. He tongued it with abandon. It tasted like a beignet. He sucked and slurped, allowing the thick meat to work its way to the back of his throat. There he let it slip past his tonsils and enter the throat. Jacob gasped.
“How did you do that?”
Quentin had his mouth full and couldn’t answer. Instead, he just kept doing it until the muscled sailor grabbed him by the ears.
“Stop. I’m close. Let’s fuck.”
Quentin let the thick cock out of his mouth with a pop. He unbuttoned his pants, turning away from the man as he did so.
“Now hold on there, boy, I wanna see yours too.”
“It’s of little interest.”
He whirled Quentin around, exposing his tiny penis. He guffawed.
“How do you fuck your wife with that little thing?”
“Like this,” Quentin said, turning back so his ass was exposed. He pulled the cheeks apart to show off his perfect puckered hole.
Jacob spit liberally into his hand. He worked a finger into Quentin’s spit-slick backside. Quentin wriggled and let out a sigh.
“This might hurt,” Jacob warned. He put the apricot-sized head of his penis against Quentin’s hole, then pressed. The boy’s puckered anus spread to accommodate the invasion. With some surprise, Jacob continued sliding into him with no protest. He was buried to the hilt.
Quentin had nerve endings that sent powerful messages any time a man’s cock came in contact with them. His pleasure depended on the other man. For that reason, he rotated until he was in a modified missionary, staring into his invader’s dark eyes.
Jacob stared back as he started rocking his hips, sliding deep into the boy. It felt good, so he closed his eyes and gave off a moan.
That blind moan was the trigger Quentin needed. His nerves were on fire with pleasure. He caressed Jacob’s nipples. The burly man grabbed his wrist and placed the hand squarely on his nipple.
“Pinch me hard.”
Quentin obliged, and more moans from the sailor sent reverberating waves of arousal echoing through him. His anus began contracting in spasms of delight. The sailor fucked harder. Quentin could see the man’s perfectly round butt rising and falling with each stroke. He grabbed hold with both hands, feeling the muscles rippling beneath his fingers. He wandered to the small of the back, where the man’s thrusting got its added strength.
Jacob had never fucked like this. No man or woman ever let him ravage them with complete abandon, until now. Quentin had a dick-shaped asshole, perfect for fucking. He occasionally thrust hard enough to hit the end of the rectum, causing Quentin to gasp.
“Am I hurting you? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Fuck me harder. As hard as you want.”
Quentin’s permission was all he needed. He lifted and carried him, impaled, around the shabby room. Quentin bounced and wiggled. Jacob wanted to kiss him, but it was wrong.
Quentin read his mind. He leaned forward and locked lips with the sailor. That was too much pleasure. The end was approaching.
It started with Quentin. His twitching anus stimulated his balls, and he leaked clear fluid onto Jacob’s rippled stomach.
Jacob felt the juice on his belly. It excited him. He made the boy leak like a woman. He sat on the bed, with Quentin riding him like a huge muscled horse. Quentin pinched and twisted both nipples, sending Jacob over the edge of the falls.
“Oh my god, oh god, I’m close, man.”
Quentin planted his feet on the ground to allow him to slide up and down the man’s cock faster.
“Oh yes! Here it comes!” Quentin felt a fiery hot flood of muscleman sperm splatter inside him. The man’s sudden release triggered his own orgasm. Quentin shot sperm up onto the shoulders and nipples of the sailor. Jacob laughed in astonishment.
“You’ll have kids. It’s the bullets, not the gun.”
To shut him up, Quentin kissed him again.
