Wolf and the Three Little Pigs: Storybook Editions, #1

By Romeo Preminger

A horny forty-something UPS driver's daily routine goes seriously off-course with a series of deliciously raunchy delivery encounters. A modern, filthy update on "The Three Little Pigs."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Romeo Preminger
• Release date: May 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463136751

Romeo Preminger

Thanks so much for checking out my page. I go by Romeo because I'm holding down a not-so-steamy day job while writing steamy gay stories. So I have to be a bit cagey in my bio, but I do love interacting with readers. I've been fascinated by the psychology and emotionality of gay relationships ever since I had my first crush as a teenager, and I think the truth is love and attraction can be a hot mess. When two men get together, it's triumphant, transcendent, and life-affirming while also scalding, stupefying and even enraging at times. That's the kind of relationships I write about because the journey to happily-ever-after isn't all pretty, and when it comes to love stories, the more drama the better, right? I write three series that each have their own flavor and texture in addition to standalone high heat level romances. Guilty Pleasures Editions is a branded series of high octane romantic thrillers. The Arizona series is a Southern gothic set in the 1980s and 1990s. Last, Storytime Editions are retold fairytales with lots of humor and graphic sex. Otherwise, what I can say about myself is that I'm married to a great guy, and I believe in happily-ever-after. Scratch me a little, and I might tell you more!

Book preview

Chapter One

WOLF PULLED HIS UPS van over to the curb, and he hopped out to grab his first delivery of the day. Outside his air-conditioned cab, the summer heat hit him like a furnace. It was going to be a hot one, he realized, glancing up at the ferocious Southern California sun. Luckily, the company allowed short-sleeved shirts and shorts as a uniform in the summer months.

He’d been working at UPS since he graduated high school, which was longer ago than Wolf would easily admit. But at forty-two years old, he still filled out his brown, tucked shirt and thigh-length shorts quite nicely, he was not too modest to say. He kept in shape. The work helped with that, hauling packages to houses and apartments all over Malibu and the vicinity from eight in the morning til four in the afternoon Mondays through Fridays. He had a nice set of guns, a handsome glow to his skin from being outdoors so much, a neat beard and mustache, and he had held onto a reasonably full, though graying cap of hair. He supposed he had become a silver fox, or a silver Wolf.

Anyhow, he made out fine in the bedroom department, thank you very much. Wolf pointed that out to snotty queens who gave him shade about his age. He didn’t even need a pill to get it up like some guys his age did. Yeah, he still turned some heads, which was a very good thing since he was pretty much always starving for ass. He’d never stopped having the libido of a fifteen-year-old. It got to be problematic from time to time.

The first address on his route was a beach bungalow with a tiny yard that looked like nothing special. Location was everything though. The little baby blue wood-sided cabin with its kitschy coconut shred-lined roof had to cost a fortune, facing the beach. Wolf could taste the briny ocean and hear the distant breakers while he strode up the little walk with the bread box-sized package he was to deliver.

He glanced at the packing slip before he rang the doorbell. A smirk curled up on his face. He knew the nondescriptly-named entertainment company where the package was from. They sold sex toys and fetish gear. This here fellow in his hands felt like it was about the weight of a dildo or maybe a Fleshlight. He smiled to himself. It was always nice knowing a delivery was going to brighten someone’s day.

Wolf rang the bell, heard it ding-dong inside, and then he stood in dead silence for a count of thirty. He checked the packing slip again. Yep, this one required a signature. Not typical for the kind of goods inside, but Wolf didn’t argue with being prudent. Packages got stolen off doorsteps all the time, and then the vendor got calls from customers screaming bloody murder, which led to sales reps complaining just as hysterically even though it wasn’t the delivery company’s fault.

After a second try with the doorbell and a count of twenty, Wolf glanced at the houses next door and across the street. It didn’t look like he was going to get lucky getting a signature from a neighbor. No one was in their yards. No cars in driveways. No sounds coming from any of the houses nearby. He gave the door a hard rap with his knuckles and announced himself.

Not a peep from inside after going through the routine three times.

Looks like the guy’s gonna get a pick up slip, Wolf decided with a frown. He didn’t like doing that because he knew it was an inconvenience to the customer, and it led to people getting heated in the corporate office. What could he do? He read the name on the address. Mr. B.J. Slayer was getting a door knob hanger. Sounded like a porn star or an old school rocker, Wolf thought with a smile.

He was just about to pull out his pad and attach the notice when he detected very faintly a tinny sound coming from around the house. Wolf’s senses were just as preternaturally sharp