Sunday, June 14, 2009

Deleted Scene

Here is a scene from a current WIP that I took out because the genre changed from historical to steampunk. This scene is for an audience of 18yrs or older and features explicit sex between two consenting ‘male’ adults (for those of you thinking it is Het) The WIP still maintains the same title, despite the big changes elsewhere. It’s called Fair Trade And its my first menage a trois. The following introduces the soon-to-be outlaw/bandits Zee and Braze.

The following picture is how I see Zee in my mind.Cowboy01

Guaranteed there are some errors in here, but don’t squint to find them or your face will get stuck like that. :D

Zee Calhoun leaned against the hewn log fence that separated the cattle from the open land. They’d just come back from a seven hour haul, rounding cattle up for the count. He was damned tired, sweaty and sore. He hadn’t eaten more than a piece of jerky and a stale biscuit for lunch so his stomach was sticking to his ribs, and the bruise he’d taken from an ornery sow was starting to kick up a fuss—letting the pain be known, but it was his habit to watch the sun touch the land each day as it sunk beyond the horizon.

Settling his hat on a post, Zee braced his elbow on a wooden slat and leaned over, taking some of the pressure off his spine, which was sore too from taking a beating in the saddle. He’d picked up a strand of grass somewhere along his ride during the day and now he twisted the long strand between forefinger and thumb, releasing the musky earthy scent of the blade of grass into the air.

A few pebbles crunched underfoot, warning him of the presence of someone else. Zee didn’t bother to turn around, instead popping the blade of grass in his mouth, he sucked on the bitter root. “I’ll be along in a minute, Braze.”

His friend said nothing. Braze drifted over to Zee’s right, bumping hips on purpose as he settled along the fence next to Zee. A finger curled in Zee’s back pocket, tugging playfully. “You sore.”

Zee shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. Not too bad though.” He’d had worse. After a pause he added, “You shouldn’t. Not out here where anybody could see.”

Ignoring him, Braze shoved his entire hand into Zee’s back pocket, fingers curling to frame one hard buttock. Zee sucked in a breath, shifted, but didn’t make any move to dislodge Braze. “There’s an empty stall in the barn, Zee. Ain’t nobody in there but the horses. I just came outta there helping Roger out and he’s belly up by now in his own bunk. Everyone’s flat out tired, ain’t nobody gonna know.”

Despite being tired enough to drift off once his head hit a pillow, Zee was still young, and not immune to the suggestions his best friend was making. It had been a long time since he and Braze had managed a moment alone to take care of business. The job they had at the Westonia ranch was only temporary. Otis Cape was known for keeping a tight leash on his boys. He wasn’t fond of paying folks for entertaining themselves and he was as about as ornery as the sow that had butted Braze earlier. They’d been very careful in the past two months. Hell, in that time Zee and Braze had barely stolen a moment for a quick hand-job while making camp on the range.

Braze’s hand felt incredibly hot even though the denim of his jeans. And Zee’s cock reared inside his jeans, hot and aching, and pearling at the tip, eager for Braze’s callous-roughened fingers to wrap around it.

Braze had to know what effect he was having on Zee, how else could he have known enough to reach around with his free hand and cup the hard bulge between Zee’s legs. Zee groaned, pushing into that hot hand.

“Come on Zee, I’ll suck you off good.”

Zee spit out the blade of grass and nodded his head. “O si gwu.” Switching to his native tongue he agreed to come with Braze.

Grinning like the cat that had caught the canary, Braze tugged Zee along by his belt loops. Zee laughed, swatting Braze’s hands away and holding him at bay until he reached the relative safety of the barn’s big doors. No sooner had the couple disappeared into the barn’s shadow when Braze grabbed two handfuls of Zee’s shirt and pushed the more slender man up against a stall door. The horse occupying the stall behind Zee snorted and shuffled nosily but soon settled down.

The noise didn’t slow Braze up one bit. Like Zee, he knew there was no way the mare could bust loose from behind the big sturdy doors that were higher than the men were tall. Braze, the same height as Zee, didn’t have to search far for what he wanted. Leaning most of his weight to pin Zee against the stall door, Braze crushed their lips together. His tongue flicked over Zee’s lips, hot and agile, demanding entrance.

Zee moaned, body shivering as Braze’s hot tongue pushed into his mouth, exploring every inch with greedy swipes of his tongue. Pulling back a bit, Zee managed to say, “U sga no li.” Slow down.

“Tla.” No. Braze licked and nibbled at Zee’s chin, one big callused hand came up to cup the back of Zee’s neck. His thumb pushed under Zee’s chin urging him to tilt his head up. Braze blazed sucking kisses down his throat, pausing to lave his tongue along Zee’s Adam’s apple. “Hungry for you, Zee.”

Zee moaned, shaking for him. Pushing his hard cock into Braze’s equally hard bulge. His fingers bit into Braze’s broad shoulders, kneading the more muscular man with his long fingers. Braze’s hand refused to be still, plucking at buttons until Zee’s shirt parted, heated lips closed around a tiny brown nipple, sucking hard enough to make Zee arch and cry out. Braze’s hands were already on his jeans, working the zipper down enough for one big hand to push into the denim, wrap around Zee’s uncircumcised cock.

“Braze, yes, please.” Zee squirmed, pleaded. His aches and pains buried beneath a spike of adrenaline and a cloud of lust.

“Want to taste you. Miss this,” Braze murmured sinking down to his knees on the hard concrete, tugging his bronze prize from the confines of Zee’s jeans. Zee’s cock had barely seen daylight before it disappeared into the moist, tight heat of Braze’s mouth.

Zee’s fingers slid into the dark silk of Braze’s hair, his torso nearly curling over Braze’s bowed head as he struggled to keep his feet. He’d missed this too. Before coming to the Westonia ranch Braze had woke him up daily and put him to bed with a blowjob. The man loved nothing better than a hard cock to nurse. Zee liked the feel and power of a having a man’s cock in his mouth, but Braze was purely into it because it got him off.

There was no doubt his friend was making up for lost time. Zee wasn’t going to last long, not with Braze sucking at him like a wind storm. That wicked tongue flicking and teasing every spare inch of his shaft. Braze moans of appreciation mingled with his. Zee combed through Braze’s black hair, undoing his braid with shaky fingers. He was unable to quell the snap of his hips. The feel of the head of his cock bumping into the back of Braze’s throat drove him insane. “Yes,yes! Braze its good.” Zee whimpered. “Uhn Uhn.”

Braze had pity on his dick, drawing off of it long enough to bury his mouth against Zee’s balls. He toyed with them first, licking and sucking, not quite giving Zee the pressure he needed, until finally Zee had had enough. Fisting a handful of his hair, Zee pulled him in close. “Suck them, Braze. I want to feel your mouth on me. Make me come.”

This time it was Braze who whimpered. Zee’s eyes rolled with amazement at the shiver that passed through Braze. The man on his knees had just come in his pants. Braze opened up wide, sucking his balls into his hot mouth, punishing him with his tongue. Zee’s cock twitched, the reddened crown mingling with white pearls of precum.

Bucking his hips, Zee gasped out, “I’m coming!”

Braze planted those big hands on Zee’s thighs, pinning him once again as he lifted his head and swallowed Zee’s cock, taking him just in time to taste the first spurt of cum. Braze took all he had to give, and sucked for several moments after he’d come, tongue flicking over his slit to get every last drop.

(CASE YOUR WONDERING: The men are speaking Cherokee. Chose that tribe because its in my blood and the research would be more interesting. Hell of a time finding the right words. Good times.)

Heh, and don’t ask why they didn’t make it to the stall and just did their stuff barely inside the barn door. Stuff happens, Okay? :P

Friday, June 12, 2009

Because it must be done...



Enough is enough already. It's time to face up to the music. The fat lady has sung and she is currently choking on a Twinkie. It must be done. I've known it for years, and I'm doing something starting Monday. Why Monday? Because it gives me the entire week to get my azz in gear. Who starts weight-loss on a Friday? I'd fall right off my schedule if I did. So what am I talking about? I'm talking about the great big elephant in the room, the huge cloud hanging over my head, the monkey on my back. I'm talking about this extra weight I'm carrying. I'm only twenty-three and I'm introverted as all get out. A fun day for me would be sitting on my bottom reading great books or chatting with friends on the web. I've been overweight since I was fourteen or so. It hasn't caused me any problems,yet, which I think God for. I don't breathe heavy, I don't have sleep apnea, I can run faster than most skinny people, I don't have asthma or high blood pressure, I walk fast as hell, can run up stairs without being winded--I guess you can call me a 'functioning fat person'.

And by the way, isn't that a cruel word? A hurtful, confidence-crushing assault on the senses? If someone calls me fat(and that rarely has happened) my confidence level goes to zero in no time flat. I like to think I'm a very confident person, but I'm also very aware of what and who I am. I am fat, or plump, or overweight. Most of my weight is carried in my bum and my hips, which are very curvy. I know that more time than not its the 'truth' that hurts. Call a skinny person fat any day of the week and they'll laugh it off and call you crazy. Call a heavyset person fat and they'll get pissed. The truth hurts. I've always advised people that if they don't like something then change it, but I'm failing to do the same thing for myself.

I don't want to lose weight because people say I need to. Quite frankly, almost no one says I need to. They are very polite. Plus, obesity is so prominent in the U.S. almost everyone will be overweight at one time or another. So, there is no room to talk. I'm losing weight because my cousin took a picture of me while I wasn't looking. It was a picture of me walking away, and I looked like that lady that I said I'd never get as big as. I looked like that woman whose clothes couldn't hide the fact that she had a big belly and wide hips. I looked like that woman who was in danger of getting heart disease, high blood pressure and diabetes. I looked like that woman that didn't care enough to get in shape. I don't want to be that woman anymore.

High-blood pressure runs in my family. My grandfather has had two heart-attacks and two strokes. My great uncle, two great aunts, and a cousin all died of heart attacks. Yet, most of my people live long lives. My Gram and Gramp's on my father's side are in the late seventies. My great aunt in her late eighties and so on, but my grandmother still suffers complications from being overweight. The cartilage in her knees have been worn away from being too heavy. I don't want that for me. I don't want that for my children.

I know this will be a long and hard road. I know this as well as the next overweight person. I'm not in denial of who I am. I know being inactive is a large part of why I am where I am today. I know that my love of bread and potatoes, and fast food has done me in. I'm not the type of person to eat huge amounts, but its what I eat that has brought me here today. Besides that, I'm aware my metabolism is slow. I have to compensate for that. I have to change my lifestyle.

So here it is folks. Sage has got to do something 'before' the troubles begin. I'm not usually one to put my personal stuff out there for the world to see, but it was important to me to write this. I know I'm not the only one who struggles with weight issues. You don't have to look far here in the USA to see that you are not alone. I just wanted to share my story, perhaps it will touch something in someone who reads this. Perhaps it will be the spark that sets fire to that wick of determination. We don't have to be skinny, we don't even have to desire a model figure, but we can be better.

We can do better. Lose weight for yourself. I'm losing weight, personally, because it must to be done...

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Favorites of June 2009


Books
1. Ransom by Lee Rowan
2. Velvet Need by Sean Michaels
3.True Colors by Clare London
4.Turquoise by B.A. Tortuga

Movies
1. Uninvited
2. Underworld:Rise of the Lycans
3. Slumdog Millionaire
4. Zuthura (yeah, I like this movie)

Music
1. Mexican Blackbird "From Dusk til Dawn" Soundtrack
2. Goodbye Apathy sung by OneRepublic
3. Paper Planes sung by M.I.A.
4. I Should Have Been A Cowboy sung by Toby Keith

TV
1. Operation Repo
2. Big Cat Diaries
3. Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe
4. Meerkat Manor

Monday, June 8, 2009

Timberrrrrrr!

My Gram's tree got struck by lightning about a week and a half ago. A few days after that half the tree came tumbling down and crushed her fence. It was a mad dash to find someone to clear up the damage, not to mention costly as all get out. Thankfully, because the tree fell the insurance kicked in and picked up the cost. We all knew something needed to be done when the lightning hit, but insurance wouldn't cover it until it fell and we were quoted from 1.5k-3.5k in clean-up costs. I went over to the house this morning. I missed the larger tree being cut up into pieces but I took pictures of the man all the way up the pine (another tree they decided to cut down to be on the safe side).
The guy in the next picture was really, really high up there. His chainsaw, when not in use, was just dangling from a rope. You couldn't pay me to do this job.
The following picture is one of large branches just freshly cut. They lowered them down using the pully system so they just wouldn't fall from the sky like missiles.
In this next pic you can see the guy in the tree from the front of the house. I took this pic from the front. See how far he was up? Can you say heart-attack city? The guy who runs the business said this man had been in taller trees. >_< This is a picture of the ruined fence. The humongous tree that fell was cleaned up before I could get there and take a picture, but here you can see the missing portion. The guy in this picture is standing in the neighbor's yard. His yard is like a forest compared to Gram's now. Also, I was sorely disappointed that there weren't any studs working with their shirts off. :( Heh, there weren't any studs AT ALL.

The next pic is the big tree they had cut up before I got there. You can tell how wide it was. The piled up trunk was split in half by the time I took these photos.


Friday, June 5, 2009

A Steaming pile of... Punk!


I've decided that the western I've been working on 'only for a short while' will be steampunk. For those of you who don't know what steampunk is, I'll try and summarize it in as few words as possible. According to Wiki Steampunk is a sub-genre of fantasy and speculative fiction that came into prominence in the 1980s and early 1990s. The term denotes works set in an era or world where steam power is still widely used—usually the 19th century, and often Victorian era England—but with prominent elements of either science fiction or fantasy, such as fictional technological inventions like those found in the works of H. G. Wells and Jules Verne, or real technological developments like the computer occurring at an earlier date. Other examples of steampunk contain alternate history-style presentations of "the path not taken" of such technology as dirigibles, analog computers, or digital mechanical computers (such as Charles Babbage's Analytical Engine); these frequently are presented in an idealized light, or with a presumption of functionality. (borrowed directly from Wikipedia)

Anyway, my western/cowboy story is going to be a mix of old and new, and quite impossible inventions. This means I have to come up with some bots that don't exist, and also incorporate some things that do. I think it should be ten times better than a regular historical. Hey, who needs a carriage when you can taken a ride on an airship? Right?