m4m

By Harold C. Jones

Henry gets an odd response to his personal ad in the m4m section. It’s a blind man, who claims he isn’t even gay. It’s just that he’s so desperately lonely. He might be willing to consider it. After all, people in jails do it all the time. Lester might just be in luck, as Henry’s a bit tired of the Craigslist crowd anyway, with their peculiar feuds and jealousies. A short story of gender-bending erotic romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harold C. Jones
• Release date: Mar 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781927957226

Harold C. Jones

Harold C. Jones does professional landscape design and is an avid sports fan. He started writing as a hobby. He began taking it seriously when he realized he had something to say. His work has helped him to come to terms with himself, or perhaps explore himself would be more accurate. Harold believes that homo-erotica is valid as literature, and that it can be written in such a way that real stories of real people takes precedence over mere prurience. It can still be a hot read.

Book preview

m4m

Harold C. Jones

This Smashwords edition copyright 2014 Harold C. Jones and Long Cool One Books

Design: J. Thornton

ISBN 978-1-927957-22-6

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The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or deceased, or to any places or events, is purely coincidental. Names, places, settings, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. The author’s moral rights to the proceeds of this work have been asserted.

Table of Contents

Act One

Act Two

Act Three

About the Author

m4m

Harold C. Jones

Act One

Henry Calibiri mentally reviewed the last several weeks of online and phone chat with Lester.

Lester was his date tonight.

Lester had answered an ad on Craigslist.

One of the m4m ads.

Henry’s ad.

Man looking for man.

At first, Henry thought it was a put-on. Lester said he was blind, for one thing, so sending pictures seemed rather pointless, and yet on request, Lester had in fact sent his own picture.

It was a fuzzy picture, with a fleshy pink blob in one corner that Henry could only assume was Lester’s thumb or finger. So. How did he do that?

It seemed like a good question, right? The picture itself was semi-revealing.

It revealed a stark interior, with no pictures on the walls, no fuzzy, textured-wallpaper borders just up under the ceiling, no ornaments, not too many lamps or hangings or plaques or trophies, just plain white walls and a man sitting in front of a computer with a blank look on an otherwise handsome and yet ordinary face. There was some character there, admittedly. And Henry realized the guy had no way of looking into the camera, a natural habit of ordinary men.