I am new here but I can't find the rules of this forum. Apologies if repost and sharing is not allowed. I'll risk it to strongly recommend the Meta Wolf series, io total 8 books. The first two can be read for free on nifty.
This series is so good; it has spoiled me and made it impossible for me to enjoy any other erotica. But it did not get the recognization it deserved. There are only 42 reviews on goodreads and none on ao3. I can't even find a way to help with my withdrawl syndrome.
Apparently I can't post link here, so I'll just paste the first few chapters below.
He didn't react. Finally noticing, he jerked. He took a deep breath, then he put the folder in front of his midsection, got up and said: "Sure, MaryAnn." `Who would nowadays give his daughter such a clichŽ name?' he asked himself quickly not for the first time.
Her gentle, sweet face cream scent was a distraction. He rubbed his nose, while he sat down again.
When her pseudo French perfume had disappeared, this mind wrecking smell attacked him again: fresh pine like after a heavy snow fall in late winter with a hint of small sweet strawberries. A very small hint.
All of this made his two day head ache worse.
He was struck. He wasn't very good at smells normally. Well, he wasn't good at barely anything most acquaintances would say. He wasn't athletic with his 176 cm and 80 kg body. He smiled inwardly. He still thought metrics, despite having been born in the U.S. He wasn't even good at being a wholesome American, he thought.
He wasn't a Big Bang Theory-like nerd, either. Liked science fiction, but didn't go to conventions; and he definitely wasn't good at sex due to the little practice he had.
He wasn't a loser given he was in the 3rd year of college in a quite good school in California, part of a prestigious five-year program, but never stuck out at anything.
Even his dirty blond hair and grey eyes looked as inconspicuous as one could imagine them.
Nope, Colt, despite his macho name, was a bit of a wallflower, well, a male wallflower.
This smell. Where did it come from? Around him everyone acted normally. It was the beginning of the fall term and this was an advanced business class. The teacher was supposed to be good, a Mr. McErickson, as he did the course MBA-style, that meant with lots of discussion and cases. That should score easy class participation points.
He saw the Rocky Mountains in front of him, or the Alps or the Carpathians, tall evergreen trees on steep mountain flanks. Had he been allergic to pine, he would be in the ER now so intense was the smell.
He recognized some few fellow students. MaryAnn of course, so impeccably dressed in her khaki shorts and white polo that she could have modeled for Hilfiger. Over there was Andrew, one of the football team stars, all tall and blond and popular, with his fat side kick Ted. He would have liked to invite all the members of the Feminists' Club to this course to show them how NOT emancipated little women are next to a hunky jock like Andrew. He could nearly smell the excitement between their legs. He coughed. Disgusting.
Concentrated on the pine smell again. So natural and true. Deep and masculine, nothing like toilet refreshers with fake, big snow covered pine tree pictures on the can. And when it got too intense, the hint of strawberry sweetness. Not the bland Wal-Mart monster strawberries, mostly white; but the seduction of tiny, natural, deep red strawberries; only to be found at the side of roads into the mountains.
He looked around. A guy who looked like he could shave as much as he wanted and would still sport a shadow, responded to his gaze by frowning arrogantly and opening his class book in an exaggerated bored way. Colt thought he knew him, but he was sure he had never seen him on campus. Maybe in a gay bar? Doesn't matter, he wasn't his type, all dark and hairy, like a wolf.
The scent came from the front. He looked across the two rows of chairs in front of him, but it was too strong to find his bearing.
In that moment, Mr. McErickson, a tall, goofy kind of man with round spectacles like from the early 20th century came into the room and shouted: "Good Morning!"
Some responded meekly, some ignored him. Only one voice responded nearly too loud: "Good Morning, Sir!"
There was some laughter. But it died down quickly, when the teacher went through the logistics of class. And mutiny might have broken out when he explained that class participation was only 20% because he said most students said stupid stuff just to claim participation, and he could not deal with stupidity.
Colt didn't really listen. He had found the source of the scent. It was the guy who had responded to the greeting like É Colt guessed É like a former soldier.
He sat painfully upright in his chair, making notes.
Colt only could see his back, but his shoulders were stretching the plain black T-shirt. The white-blond-reddish hair was a hint too long for a soldier, but maybe now that he was out of the army he let it grow a bit again.
Lots of freckles covered his surprisingly tanned neck and, what Colt thought was a dog tag chain.
How could a man smell so intense? And why did nobody else seem to notice?
The professor went over the exam schedule – accounting for 40% of the grade - and the written case discussion option. Every written case discussion entry could get a max of 8% if it was great. They had eight cases as options to complete, he said; but normally nobody got 8%; maybe a McKinsey consultant with 10 years' experience. The students chuckled forced.
"I guess that has eaten already 45 minutes of our session É"
The soldier looked up from his notes and scratched his neck.
Colt was attacked by a wave of mountain scents so strong he nearly fell off his chair. He succeeded to stay put.
Except for his cock. It grew at a painful speed and to an aching size that he was afraid his jeans would burst. Or get wet. Or both.
He tried to breathe again deeply. Like when MaryAnn wanted to pass and he had to hide his boner with his folder. Not only was it inappropriate to have a boner in a business class, but particularly when interacting with a Southern lady; and even more importantly when one wasn't interested in the lady at all.
He hoped the soldier would turn his head a bit more so he could see his face; but he stubbornly focused on the professor and on making notes; like a good recruit.
Colt liked that, but he wanted to see the guy's face.
No chance.
"So who read the first 10 pages of the case?" Maybe 10 of 30 students lifted their hands. "So five max," Mr. McErickson summarized sarcastically. Timid laughter.
Colt was only surprised that the soldier hadn't lifted his hand, all gung-ho as he seemed. Maybe soldiers don't lie.
"So who wants to start with his view, whether company INTEGRATED should spin off their consumer products business to focus on the B2B market? What should the CMO recommend?"
A small hand went up.
"Yes, your name?"
"Cotherby."
"Exchange student?"
"Yes from London," she replied in this cute BBC announcer accent. Colt was distracted from the smell, even if only for ten seconds.
She was as pale as one imagined Londoners of a certain class to be and had a cute slim face. Her chestnut brown hair and eyes were such a stark contrast to her white marble skin making her look just elegant. He was sure that she would get laid in the US in no time É in contrast to Colt.
Even her teeth were perfect; they looked naturally straight and white without the artificial bleach effect of MaryAnn's.
"So what do you think?"
It was obvious she had gone to good schools. "I think they should not sell. The business cases are barely showing any NPV difference; hence, only strategic aspects should be considered. And in this case having the proximity to consumers will always be a competitive advantage in the B2B business."
"I agree, know the customers of your customers," MaryAnn added in her Southern twang, which earned her an appreciative smile from the English girl.
"Any disagreement?"
An ugly guy with pimples raised his hand. Colt moaned. Seth. He wanted to be the big next Wall Street shark, and had opinions to go with that aspiration.
"Your point?" moderated Mr. McErickson with forced indifference. It seemed he knew the point already. And indeed, Seth covered the usual platitudes of focusing on the core business to maximize shareholder value like a well-trained Republican doll.
Colt didn't listen anymore but observed the soldier again, which made his boner grow even harder. Not sure he ever had been that big, not even when he had his first sex É in the backroom of a bar.
"Seems Mr. Parker is distracted," he heard Mr. McErickson say. He immediately was all ears. How come the teacher knew his name? He had never been in one of his classes.
"Not really." He tried to be calm and added a pseudo polite "Mr. McErickson." Why did this teacher know his name? And why did he want his point of view? He hadn't raised his hand when the teacher had asked whether they had read the case. So far he hadn't bothered anyone yet except those eager puppies. Oh shit, he thought, he was already on the shit list. Great.
"So what do you think?"
Colt had to grab his chair because the soldier turned around to see who was being harassed here.
He was handsome. No, really handsome. No, Ÿber-fuckable handsome. Green eyes, freckles, a small nose despite the strong cheekbones and jawlines. Not shaved, which could be fixed, Colt thought quickly. A smile, which has seen too much pain, around the not too small pink lips. The longish hair covered his ears, which was a shame, as Colt loved ears. He was older than the students around him. Maybe 26, 27 not 21.
"So?" demanded the teacher, while Colt was dealing with the blow in his gut that this gorgeous soldier, who gave him the biggest boner ever, barely looked at him and turned around to face the teacher again as if he had just seen an annoying stain at the wall and not Colt.
Typical. `I am not the type of my types,' while he looked up to the teacher and started to say: "It depends on the career aspiration of the CMO."
The teacher looked a bit perplexed. "How so?"
"As everyone noted the business cases are not decisive, one can argue both ways as done today. So less objective motives will come into play. If the CMO wants to become CEO he will push for the spin off, as he is perfectly suited to become the CEO for the new consumer business. If he wants to continue as CMO as marketing is his passion, he will push for not spinning off; as then his marketing empire will not be halved."
There was noise everywhere.
Even the soldier turned briefly around but straightened himself again after few seconds as he had done before; barely looking at Colt who was slightly nervous, he didn't know how the teacher would react.
Mr. McErickson said. "Provocative indeed. This will be an interesting discussion next time. Please read the next 15 pages. Hand-ins for 8% points are available."
He dismissed the class and moving chairs made an unbearable noise.
Colt put his folder in front of his midsection and let people pass through the aisle not forcing himself into it.
He wanted to see the soldier passing by.
He was tall, slightly above 190 cm, between 6 ft 3 and 6 ft 4 his phone recalculated quickly, deleting a provider message in the process.
Muscular. His biceps stretched the black T-shirts sleeves. A tattoo.
Colt quickly linked it to the Marines. Not a soldier, then. A Jarhead.
He nearly came into his pants.
The smell became unbearable. He had to turn away. Anyway, the marine didn't even look at him. `No surprise for you, fag,' Colt thought and waited until everyone had left the class before getting up and running to his dorm room.
Thank god, his roommate was in class. He hopped on his unmade bed, pushed down his jeans and yanked on his meat. He didn't have time to remove his shirt. He shot within seconds; all over his head onto the wall, on his face and his belly.
Yuck, he said while he used his shirt to clean himself.
It stank of come so he opened the window.
He heard an irritatingly loud howl. Some fraternity guys, he thought, while he undid his shirt and changed into a fresh one.
He didn't notice somebody was looking up his window from a distance, hidden behind a pine tree.
"I think they've finally found him," the petite woman said to the burly man easily triple her weight.
"I know, let's see how it develops. They might be scared given the freak he is."
"Or he is with the three of them."
"Maybe." The man scratched his beard. "Continue to watch him. Don't do anything. To him or them," he said.
This series is so good; it has spoiled me and made it impossible for me to enjoy any other erotica. But it did not get the recognization it deserved. There are only 42 reviews on goodreads and none on ao3. I can't even find a way to help with my withdrawl syndrome.
Apparently I can't post link here, so I'll just paste the first few chapters below.
CHAPTER 1
"Can I pass, honey?" she asked with a Southern condescension, practiced over hundreds of years in the ruling class.He didn't react. Finally noticing, he jerked. He took a deep breath, then he put the folder in front of his midsection, got up and said: "Sure, MaryAnn." `Who would nowadays give his daughter such a clichŽ name?' he asked himself quickly not for the first time.
Her gentle, sweet face cream scent was a distraction. He rubbed his nose, while he sat down again.
When her pseudo French perfume had disappeared, this mind wrecking smell attacked him again: fresh pine like after a heavy snow fall in late winter with a hint of small sweet strawberries. A very small hint.
All of this made his two day head ache worse.
He was struck. He wasn't very good at smells normally. Well, he wasn't good at barely anything most acquaintances would say. He wasn't athletic with his 176 cm and 80 kg body. He smiled inwardly. He still thought metrics, despite having been born in the U.S. He wasn't even good at being a wholesome American, he thought.
He wasn't a Big Bang Theory-like nerd, either. Liked science fiction, but didn't go to conventions; and he definitely wasn't good at sex due to the little practice he had.
He wasn't a loser given he was in the 3rd year of college in a quite good school in California, part of a prestigious five-year program, but never stuck out at anything.
Even his dirty blond hair and grey eyes looked as inconspicuous as one could imagine them.
Nope, Colt, despite his macho name, was a bit of a wallflower, well, a male wallflower.
This smell. Where did it come from? Around him everyone acted normally. It was the beginning of the fall term and this was an advanced business class. The teacher was supposed to be good, a Mr. McErickson, as he did the course MBA-style, that meant with lots of discussion and cases. That should score easy class participation points.
He saw the Rocky Mountains in front of him, or the Alps or the Carpathians, tall evergreen trees on steep mountain flanks. Had he been allergic to pine, he would be in the ER now so intense was the smell.
He recognized some few fellow students. MaryAnn of course, so impeccably dressed in her khaki shorts and white polo that she could have modeled for Hilfiger. Over there was Andrew, one of the football team stars, all tall and blond and popular, with his fat side kick Ted. He would have liked to invite all the members of the Feminists' Club to this course to show them how NOT emancipated little women are next to a hunky jock like Andrew. He could nearly smell the excitement between their legs. He coughed. Disgusting.
Concentrated on the pine smell again. So natural and true. Deep and masculine, nothing like toilet refreshers with fake, big snow covered pine tree pictures on the can. And when it got too intense, the hint of strawberry sweetness. Not the bland Wal-Mart monster strawberries, mostly white; but the seduction of tiny, natural, deep red strawberries; only to be found at the side of roads into the mountains.
He looked around. A guy who looked like he could shave as much as he wanted and would still sport a shadow, responded to his gaze by frowning arrogantly and opening his class book in an exaggerated bored way. Colt thought he knew him, but he was sure he had never seen him on campus. Maybe in a gay bar? Doesn't matter, he wasn't his type, all dark and hairy, like a wolf.
The scent came from the front. He looked across the two rows of chairs in front of him, but it was too strong to find his bearing.
In that moment, Mr. McErickson, a tall, goofy kind of man with round spectacles like from the early 20th century came into the room and shouted: "Good Morning!"
Some responded meekly, some ignored him. Only one voice responded nearly too loud: "Good Morning, Sir!"
There was some laughter. But it died down quickly, when the teacher went through the logistics of class. And mutiny might have broken out when he explained that class participation was only 20% because he said most students said stupid stuff just to claim participation, and he could not deal with stupidity.
Colt didn't really listen. He had found the source of the scent. It was the guy who had responded to the greeting like É Colt guessed É like a former soldier.
He sat painfully upright in his chair, making notes.
Colt only could see his back, but his shoulders were stretching the plain black T-shirt. The white-blond-reddish hair was a hint too long for a soldier, but maybe now that he was out of the army he let it grow a bit again.
Lots of freckles covered his surprisingly tanned neck and, what Colt thought was a dog tag chain.
How could a man smell so intense? And why did nobody else seem to notice?
The professor went over the exam schedule – accounting for 40% of the grade - and the written case discussion option. Every written case discussion entry could get a max of 8% if it was great. They had eight cases as options to complete, he said; but normally nobody got 8%; maybe a McKinsey consultant with 10 years' experience. The students chuckled forced.
"I guess that has eaten already 45 minutes of our session É"
The soldier looked up from his notes and scratched his neck.
Colt was attacked by a wave of mountain scents so strong he nearly fell off his chair. He succeeded to stay put.
Except for his cock. It grew at a painful speed and to an aching size that he was afraid his jeans would burst. Or get wet. Or both.
He tried to breathe again deeply. Like when MaryAnn wanted to pass and he had to hide his boner with his folder. Not only was it inappropriate to have a boner in a business class, but particularly when interacting with a Southern lady; and even more importantly when one wasn't interested in the lady at all.
He hoped the soldier would turn his head a bit more so he could see his face; but he stubbornly focused on the professor and on making notes; like a good recruit.
Colt liked that, but he wanted to see the guy's face.
No chance.
"So who read the first 10 pages of the case?" Maybe 10 of 30 students lifted their hands. "So five max," Mr. McErickson summarized sarcastically. Timid laughter.
Colt was only surprised that the soldier hadn't lifted his hand, all gung-ho as he seemed. Maybe soldiers don't lie.
"So who wants to start with his view, whether company INTEGRATED should spin off their consumer products business to focus on the B2B market? What should the CMO recommend?"
A small hand went up.
"Yes, your name?"
"Cotherby."
"Exchange student?"
"Yes from London," she replied in this cute BBC announcer accent. Colt was distracted from the smell, even if only for ten seconds.
She was as pale as one imagined Londoners of a certain class to be and had a cute slim face. Her chestnut brown hair and eyes were such a stark contrast to her white marble skin making her look just elegant. He was sure that she would get laid in the US in no time É in contrast to Colt.
Even her teeth were perfect; they looked naturally straight and white without the artificial bleach effect of MaryAnn's.
"So what do you think?"
It was obvious she had gone to good schools. "I think they should not sell. The business cases are barely showing any NPV difference; hence, only strategic aspects should be considered. And in this case having the proximity to consumers will always be a competitive advantage in the B2B business."
"I agree, know the customers of your customers," MaryAnn added in her Southern twang, which earned her an appreciative smile from the English girl.
"Any disagreement?"
An ugly guy with pimples raised his hand. Colt moaned. Seth. He wanted to be the big next Wall Street shark, and had opinions to go with that aspiration.
"Your point?" moderated Mr. McErickson with forced indifference. It seemed he knew the point already. And indeed, Seth covered the usual platitudes of focusing on the core business to maximize shareholder value like a well-trained Republican doll.
Colt didn't listen anymore but observed the soldier again, which made his boner grow even harder. Not sure he ever had been that big, not even when he had his first sex É in the backroom of a bar.
"Seems Mr. Parker is distracted," he heard Mr. McErickson say. He immediately was all ears. How come the teacher knew his name? He had never been in one of his classes.
"Not really." He tried to be calm and added a pseudo polite "Mr. McErickson." Why did this teacher know his name? And why did he want his point of view? He hadn't raised his hand when the teacher had asked whether they had read the case. So far he hadn't bothered anyone yet except those eager puppies. Oh shit, he thought, he was already on the shit list. Great.
"So what do you think?"
Colt had to grab his chair because the soldier turned around to see who was being harassed here.
He was handsome. No, really handsome. No, Ÿber-fuckable handsome. Green eyes, freckles, a small nose despite the strong cheekbones and jawlines. Not shaved, which could be fixed, Colt thought quickly. A smile, which has seen too much pain, around the not too small pink lips. The longish hair covered his ears, which was a shame, as Colt loved ears. He was older than the students around him. Maybe 26, 27 not 21.
"So?" demanded the teacher, while Colt was dealing with the blow in his gut that this gorgeous soldier, who gave him the biggest boner ever, barely looked at him and turned around to face the teacher again as if he had just seen an annoying stain at the wall and not Colt.
Typical. `I am not the type of my types,' while he looked up to the teacher and started to say: "It depends on the career aspiration of the CMO."
The teacher looked a bit perplexed. "How so?"
"As everyone noted the business cases are not decisive, one can argue both ways as done today. So less objective motives will come into play. If the CMO wants to become CEO he will push for the spin off, as he is perfectly suited to become the CEO for the new consumer business. If he wants to continue as CMO as marketing is his passion, he will push for not spinning off; as then his marketing empire will not be halved."
There was noise everywhere.
Even the soldier turned briefly around but straightened himself again after few seconds as he had done before; barely looking at Colt who was slightly nervous, he didn't know how the teacher would react.
Mr. McErickson said. "Provocative indeed. This will be an interesting discussion next time. Please read the next 15 pages. Hand-ins for 8% points are available."
He dismissed the class and moving chairs made an unbearable noise.
Colt put his folder in front of his midsection and let people pass through the aisle not forcing himself into it.
He wanted to see the soldier passing by.
He was tall, slightly above 190 cm, between 6 ft 3 and 6 ft 4 his phone recalculated quickly, deleting a provider message in the process.
Muscular. His biceps stretched the black T-shirts sleeves. A tattoo.
Colt quickly linked it to the Marines. Not a soldier, then. A Jarhead.
He nearly came into his pants.
The smell became unbearable. He had to turn away. Anyway, the marine didn't even look at him. `No surprise for you, fag,' Colt thought and waited until everyone had left the class before getting up and running to his dorm room.
Thank god, his roommate was in class. He hopped on his unmade bed, pushed down his jeans and yanked on his meat. He didn't have time to remove his shirt. He shot within seconds; all over his head onto the wall, on his face and his belly.
Yuck, he said while he used his shirt to clean himself.
It stank of come so he opened the window.
He heard an irritatingly loud howl. Some fraternity guys, he thought, while he undid his shirt and changed into a fresh one.
He didn't notice somebody was looking up his window from a distance, hidden behind a pine tree.
"I think they've finally found him," the petite woman said to the burly man easily triple her weight.
"I know, let's see how it develops. They might be scared given the freak he is."
"Or he is with the three of them."
"Maybe." The man scratched his beard. "Continue to watch him. Don't do anything. To him or them," he said.
