Wotshisname?

By Drew Hunt

As he lies in bed Saturday morning, Will Marshall reflects on the previous night's trick that he'd picked up at the club. Will never bothers to learn the names of his tricks since he shows them the door as soon as they're done. Oddly, though, he can't remember seeing Wotshisname out. As this realization hits, he hears a crash somewhere in his flat. Turns out Wotshisname -- Jamie -- made Will breakfast ... and leaves his number behind when he does finally go.

Days pass, but try as hard as he might, Will can't get Jamie out of his mind. Every trick is compared to Jamie and is found wanting. Even his cat seems to be missing Jamie. And the fact Jamie is a teacher, something that was revealed during the unexpected breakfast, endears him to Will's mother, who despairs of her son ever settling down.

Somewhere in his messy flat is the scrap of paper with Jamie's number. It wouldn't hurt to find it and put it in his phone, just in case. It's not like he'd actually call the man or anything. After all, he never does the same trick twice, right?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Oct 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781646569519

Drew Hunt

Having read all the decent free fiction on the net Drew could find, he set out to try his hand at writing something himself. Fed up reading about characters who were super-wealthy, impossibly handsome, and incredibly well-endowed, Drew determined to make his characters real and believable.Drew lives a quiet life in the north of England with his cat. Someday he hopes to meet the kind of man he writes about. Readers can contact him at [e-mail].

Book preview

cover.jpg

Wotshisname?

By Drew Hunt

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2021 Drew Hunt

ISBN 9781646569519

Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission from the publisher, with the exception of excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

* * * *

Wotshisname?

By Drew Hunt

Saturday mornings were probably my second favourite time of the week. I could just lie in bed for as long as I wanted. Only two things would drag me out from under the covers, my bladder, or Damien, the demon-spawn cat from hell. Yes, I’d named him after the character in The Omen. It was always a toss-up as to which would get to me first. My bladder was something beyond my control, and, come to think of it, so was Damien. He would as soon hiss at me, scratch me, or try and bite me than look at me. I was sure he only stuck around because of the overpriced, gourmet cat food I fed him. He wouldn’t touch the cheaper supermarket’s own brands.

I had a pretty healthy sex life myself, but it was nothing compared to Damien’s. Only he preferred to shag the females of his species and I stuck to the males in mine.

As neither my bladder nor the cat was currently an issue, I snuggled deeper under the covers and thought back on my absolute favourite part of the week—Friday night. After work I’d go through the three S’s—shit, shower, and shave—and dress in my tight leather jeans and one of my copping-off silk shirts and trawl the gay bars on Canal Street for a trick. I’d take my time, perusing the night’s offerings. Once I’d chosen the lucky lad, I’d buy him a drink or three, then show him some of my moves on the dance floor. Inevitably we’d start rubbing up against each other, there’d be some grab arse, and if the trick was gagging for it, we’d head for the bogs so he could get his hands—and hopefully his mouth, too—on Big Willy. Yeah, I know, not exactly unique, but my name was Will, so why couldn’t my cock be called Willy?

Anyway, after the visit to the gents—where sometimes I needed to empty my bladder as well as my balls—the trick and I would return to the dance floor. Perhaps there’d also be more drinking—although by this point in the evening I’d swapped to soft diet drinks—and once I felt sure the trick was mine for the shagging, I’d take him outside and hail a taxi back