Pop My Cherry Ass: Volume 2

By Jack Brighton

Three more cherry popping tales, where three very different young men lose their anal virginity in very different circumstances...
A young footballer goes cruising in the dark of Glasgow's Kelvingrove Park, hoping to keep his identity secret as he searches for a man. The one he finds turns out to be a bit of a handful - rough and assertive, but our young sport's star is left far from disappointed.
On holiday in Tuscany, teenager Paul is alone in the villa his parents have rented and finds himself in a compromising situation when the gardener's grandson, Paolo, arrives unexpectedly. It's a tricky start they have, but the two soon become very good friends by the Tuscan swimming pool.
Finally, 26 year old Dean has been passing himself off as straight, having unfulfilling encounters with women. But on a business trip to London he decides to explore his closeted gay side by booking an hour with a gay porn star hustler. Expensive at £250, but Dean certainly gets value for money from the appropriately named Gary Bonehard.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Firm Hand Books
• Release date: Jan 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311621382

Jack Brighton

Jack Brighton is a British author who specialises in M/M erotica - most of which, but by no means all, falls into the category of BDSM - a way of life that he has rich experience of. There are romantic overtones in some of his work, but you tend to get what it says on the label. All the books fall under the banner 'Flaming Hot Gay BDSM' or 'Flaming Hot Gay Erotica', so don't expect anything else. But do expect them to be flaming hot, with plenty of storyline and character development. A dry sense of humour also features, and a very vivid imagination. He is best known for his 'Tales from The Wild Side' series, where that imagination runs riot.Jack was brought up in a mining community in the west of Scotland, took his degree at Stirling, did a year's post- graduate in Edinburgh, then moved south to London, where he taught for a few years before moving into the finance sector, based in The City. Many of his stories draw on this background - as a gay man trying to find himself in what was more often than not a hostile environment.Having given up the rat race, Jack became a full time writer in 2010. He now lives in Brighton with his long term partner.Jack has also written mainstream fiction under the pen name J. K. Brighton.

Book preview

Pop My Cherry Ass

Volume 2

(Flaming Hot Gay Erotica)

By Jack Brighton

Copyright Tom Farrell aka Jack Brighton, 2014

Published by Firm Hand Books at Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Please note: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store the material where it cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. As a piece of erotic fantasy where licence can be taken, certain scenes involve unprotected sex.

Table of Contents

A Cherry in the Dark of Kelvingrove Park

A Cherry by the Tuscan Pool

A Cherry for the Porn Star Hustler

Jack Brighton’s Flaming Hot Erotica Collection

Erotica Extract – A Week in Provence

Jack Brighton’s Flaming Hot BDSM Collection

BDSM Series Extract – Welcome to The Wild Side

BDSM Book Extract – A Road to Bondage

About the Author

A Cherry in the Dark of Kelvingrove Park

I’d been to Kelvingrove Park several times before, and have to say that it’s a fabulous place. Situated in the West of Glasgow, it straddles the River Kelvin before its confluence with the Clyde. With 85 acres of mature Victorian planting, pleasant walks and various other attractions, the park offers a welcome relief to both locals and tourists from the hectic city centre that surrounds it. Apparently it’s a haven for urban wildlife: herons, kingfishers and many other birds; foxes as well and even the odd otter. It’s also a haven for certain types of men who are looking for sex at all sorts of hours. And that’s why I went there in the middle of the night... looking for sex for the very first time – wanting it anonymous, hidden in the dark.

Now don’t get the wrong impression! I’m not some horror story that couldn’t pull a decent bloke in the full light of day, or in one of the many gay bars and clubs around town. I’m nineteen years old with a cheeky sort of face that’s easy on the eye, a bit shorter than I’d like at only five feet eight, but I’ve got a very fit body, a good sized cock and an ass that quite frankly is to die for – getting laid by some quality well hung stud shouldn’t have been much of a challenge. But as a member of Glasgow Rangers Football squad, it wouldn’t be a great idea for me to be seen out on the scene. The club has had enough trouble in recent years, what with the horror of insolvency almost seeing it go under, and the subsequent humiliation of being chucked out of the Scottish Premier League, obliged to start afresh playing amateur minnows in the Third Division - adding to their woes by declaring myself as gay would see my Old Firm career come to an abrupt end before it had properly started.

But I needed some sex and sex with a man. It was driving me insane having just moved up to the senior squad, seeing my new teammates naked in the showers after a game: really fit men with really fit bodies; some smooth and youthful, others rugged and mature; all of them seemingly hung like horses and happily flashing their goods about. I loved it and hated it. It was both a thrill and a nightmare – sneaking glances at the men but pretending to be indifferent to the splendour of their nudity, waging a constant battle not to get a horn in front of them and give myself away.

A poof in the squad! Believe you me - if they sussed me out I’d be packing my bags the following day. Society in general might have changed into a more accepting place for gays, but the macho world of professional football is still in the dark ages in that regard, especially at Ibrox, home of the Rangers faithful. They would never tolerate a poof in the squad, there to be jeered at by the opposing fans – a complete and utter nightmare if archrival Glasgow Celtic happened to be visiting. The poor Rangers fans would sooner open a vein than have that indignity forced upon them, and I would imagine most of my teammates would feel the same. That’s why I went to Kelvingrove Park at night: to be in the dark; under disguise; because no one could ever know who I was, including the bloke I hoped to find for some sex.

I was so bloody nervous for a whole bundle of reasons. Being discovered and outed was top of the list – I didn’t want to make headlines for all the wrong reasons, my name splattered in disgrace on the front pages instead of in the sports section at the back. Being attacked and beaten up came a close second, as there’d been several reports of this happening lately, and obviously I’d be reluctant to call for help if a gang of queer-bashers decided to jump me. Then there was the worry that I wouldn’t find anything to suit me, or that with my partially concealed face no one half decent would want me. And on top of all this, I was nervous about actually clicking with a bloke... I mean, what would we do? Would I be a fumbling idiot and embarrass myself? Would he want to fuck me? Would I be brave enough to let him? The whole thing was a minefield to be honest. I wanted to try lots, but there was an element of anxiety, especially about getting screwed. I was ambivalent about the idea of having a cock inside me – to passively submit to a more dominant sexual force – to be used by a man. And whilst I was an innocent in the ways of buggery, I knew enough to appreciate that there was the potential to be hurt – experience hideous pain if the bloke just rammed his dick up and didn’t properly prepare me for the entry, or if he was just too big for a cherry assed virgin. And then there was the mental thing. I come from a background where machismo is king and wasn’t immune to the doctrine. So I was concerned about my feelings if I did the deed and allowed some bloke to shaft me. Would I feel elated – or would there be shame and self-disgust as I gingerly walked home with a well buggered ass and spunk dribbling out of my gaping hole?

Aye, I was nervous all right as I approached the park on foot. But not so nervous that I turned and fled when I noticed the cars parked at the entrance. Pulling my hood further over my head and covering the lower half of my face with a scarf, I dared to walk past some of these kerb crawlers who were clearly here for a purpose – something that was confirmed when a window rolled down.

No need to go in there, son, the man in the driver’s seat huskily growled. If it’s a ride you’re after, jump in the car and I’ll take you to a quiet spot – then I’ll give you another ride in the comfort of the back seat. And you’ll get a good length up that tidy arse of yours – I’ve got more than enough here to keep you happy! Have a look!

Instinctively I did - just a glance as I passed and heard the invite. In the dim light I could see he was holding an erection, and a fairly good sized one, so it was no idle boast. But behind the hard cock was a seriously fat gut stretching out the bloke’s shirt to such a degree that the buttons were in risk of popping. And a quick look at his face which was leering at my ass, told me he was at least twice my age, probably nearer thrice.

No chance! Too fat! Too decrepit! Too risky in a car even if he happened to be a gorgeous big hunk in the prime of his life instead of a creepy old geezer well past his best. I quickly moved on without saying a word and ignored all other offers as I made for the park gates.

With 85 acres it’s a big old place, but I knew where to go having done some research on the net and reconnoitred the area earlier in the day – a wooded spot with plenty of trees and bushes – perfect for illicit alfresco sex. Ten minutes and I was there at the edge of the cruising zone – my heart pounding with fear and anticipation, feeling out of my depth with no clear plan from here on in, other than to walk about and see what was occurring.

At first I didn’t see much. With no artificial lighting, and the moon typically obscured by heavy Scottish cloud, it was pretty dark once you moved away from the street-lit main road that bisects the park. It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust, but then I realised I wasn’t alone. A number of figures started to take shape – a few walking, most of them loitering, all of them indistinct.

‘Fuck! This is it! But what should I do now?’ Those were the thoughts that raged in my mind. Whilst the dark suited me fine in one respect, it made finding a decent looking bloke a bit tricky. But then it occurred to me – maybe there were no decent blokes around. Perhaps it was only sad cases that came out here, ones like me who needed the dark but for very different reasons.

I froze. There was the temptation to bottle out – go home and have a wank then come up with another plan to find myself a horny looking man – maybe a blind one might be the answer, someone I could see without him seeing me. But I was desperate for some sex – proper sex involving more than just my hand. And in the dark, what would it matter if the guy wasn’t a total dreamboat. So accepting that I wasn’t in a position to be over fussy, I ventured forward into the fray.

I kept to the paths where a few others were walking, passing the loiterers who were leaning on trees at various distances away, calling out if they saw something they fancied. With the hood and my scarf and the thankfully poor light – no one was able to judge me on my face. But the top I was wearing gave an idea of my trim build, and the tight-fitting jeans showed off my ass like a dream, assuming there was enough light for my best asset to be seen. It soon became apparent that there was.

Christ! I’d screw you bandy, son! So if you’re after a good time then come over here, was the first invite.

If it’s a gobble you fancy then have a suck on this! was the next.

Nice arse! I’ve got a boner here if you want it fucked! suggested another.

It was clear I wasn’t going to be short of offers – offers from men I couldn’t really see other than a vague outline. But they could obviously see me better than I could them – calling me ‘son’ meant my youth was apparent, and commenting on my ass was another give away. I assumed that on the path there was a little more light - sufficient enough for me to advertise my worth. It was a shame that the same couldn’t be said of the loiterers. I reckoned there was a good reason for that unfortunately.

I ventured onward, still nervous but intrigued, soon realising that some men had managed to pair off, as further back into the trees I could hear some lusty sounds: groans and slurps as a cock was sucked; grunts and bumps as an ass was fucked – all hidden from sight but ever so exciting to a lad whose only experience of sex was through porn flicks on the net.

A few more offers came my way, either asking for a blowjob or a turn at my ass. I had no idea what these men looked like – it was too dark to make them out – but the backdrop of gay sex had got me all horned up – so it was tempting to just go for it and take a chance. I didn’t though. The vision of the fat guy in the car still plagued me – there was no way I wanted sex with someone like that, so I timidly held back.

Keeping to the path, too afraid to venture off it, I was starting to wonder if this was a big mistake, when suddenly I saw a man approaching. Of course it was impossible to be sure, but he looked all right from what I could see: tall and well built, with a surety of step that was no guarantee of youth but certainly favoured that over