A Foursome Plus Poems

By Charles Harvey and AC Adams

Dive into 'A Foursome plus Poems', where the lines between pleasure and peril blur in a tantalizing dance. This collection isn't just stories. The poetry included takes an unapologetic plunge into the depths of gay fantasy, dripping with eroticism and shadowed by the macabre.

 

These narratives are a feast for the senses, where the ordinary morphs into comedic darkness. Every crunch of a crab whispers untold stories of passion. Where was that banana before it wound up in the pudding? Are cucumbers just for salad? As you traverse these pages, expect to be both charmed and unsettled, your fantasies entwined with a thread of darkness.  You'll find yourself ensnared in their allure. Each story in this collection is a foray into the depths of fantasy, where the mundane becomes steamy, and every page turns with anticipation.

 

Excerpt:

 

Banana Pudding

I peered through the window after the doorbell gonged and wondered why my gentleman caller was wearing a yellow raincoat. The sky was brilliantly blue, and the sun shined so hard the flowers in my neighbor's yard looked like plastic pinwheels. Reluctantly, I opened the door.

"I hadn't heard the weatherman say anything about rain today. I said looking him up and down."

He stood tall but bent a little at the waist. He looked at me through dark eyes that appeared like bruises in the middle of his smooth face. He hesitated as if contemplating running away. A blue bandana with the words "Chiquita Rocks" fit tight on his head. I smiled a smile that matched the sun and the yellow suit. My visitor relaxed, stamped his black boot on the welcome mat, and hopped across the threshold on one foot.

"This ain't no raincoat. It's a yellow summer coat. I like yellow."

"I see you do. It's a great color for a warm day."

"It's a great color period. You should see my friends hanging out at the grocers all green acting like young boys. They didn't believe the tree. The tree said we wouldn't be green long. The tree didn't lie. I'm a man already."

 

Originally Published in 2012 Revised December 2023. Poetry added

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers
• Release date: Dec 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223949718

Charles Harvey

Charles W. Harvey is a native Houstonian and a graduate of the University of Houston. At UofH he studied fiction under the guidance of Rosellen Brown and Chitra Divakaruni. In 1987, Charles was a 1st place prize recipient of PEN/Discovery for his short story Cheeseburger, which went on to be published in the Ontario Review. In 1989 Charles Harvey was awarded the Cultural Arts Council of Houston Grant for Writers and Artists. Also in 1989 he was a finalist in the MacDonald's Literary Achievement Awards. Charles has been published in Soulfires, Story Magazine SHADE, High Infidelity, The James White Review, and others. He is the author of the novels The Butterfly Killer, The Road to Astroworld, and Antoine's Double Trouble. He is also the author of several story and poetry collections. He also writes for the stage and screen.

Book preview

THE PIG

As a gay man, I’ve had much drama in my life. I’m thirty. Just the ripe age to have had two crazy boyfriends, five crazy tricks, one DWI, three amorous married ex-bosses, and one club fight. Hit that bitch with a bottle. And I have had my own craziness to deal with. I stalked Raul all the way to Uruguay, right up to his front door. With his pregnant wife and seven kids standing in the threshold, I got down on my knees and begged him to come back to me. In my flowing linens whipped by the breeze, his wife thought I was an angel. She made a sign of the cross and got down on her knees in prayer also. I begged in English, for her husband to come back to me. Tears flowed down my face. I promised him I would work two jobs and western union that tramp and those seven, soon to be eight bastards’ money every week. But I think the wife caught on when I blurted out in in Spanish, Mi hermoso culo tiene su polla.—My beautiful ass needs your cock. Which really translates to My beautiful ass is his dick. She opened one eye. I didn’t get Raul back, but I got arrested later for running through the market and mutilating the phallic shaped vegetables and fruits. I laid siege to all the cucumbers, bananas, and zucchini I could lay a butcher’s knife to. The Uruguay press dubbed me the Lorena Bobbitt of Vegetables. My Mother was not proud.

I said all of that to make the point that drama is not uncommon in your life if you’re a gay man. Your phone rings at three a.m. on Sunday Mornings from the jailhouse. Your door is knocked on while you’re right in the middle of the biggest dick you’ve ever had. A bitch scratches ugly things on your car with her key, while you’re scratching a new set of balls. Sometimes a dead cat winds up on your front stoop. Yes that’s the life of a gay man.

It was no surprise to me to hear my door being banged on at three a.m. I was awakened out of a dream where I was in a truck stop restroom as big burly truck drivers dressed as ballerinas, twirled around. Suddenly, one out of the bunch aimed a gun at me and pulled the trigger. The pop pop pop was my door being banged on. Then the doorbell rang. I lay there for a moment, as I tried to figure out what trouble the devil might be sending my way. Quickly, I leaped to my feet. Perhaps that trick with the 11.5 from ADAM4EVERYTHING had changed his mind and decided to come by. ADAM4EVERYTHING is so techie these days, You use the GPS version, leave your phone on and tricks don’t even have to call and get directions. They show up unexpectedly—sometimes just wearing boxers. Thank God for technology. I leaped out of bed, sprayed a dash of Armani over my chest and undies, and scampered to the window near the front door. My porch light cast a blue and sultry hue in the misty night.  I blinked several times and slapped my face to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. There it stood on all fours, a dude with the pinkest ass I had ever seen. The moonlight bounced off his rump and it glowed. Very few people would answer their door after spotting a naked guy on all fours. My desperation makes me an exception to the rule. And he wasn’t all the way naked. he had on bits of leather. I opened the door a crack.

Please let me in, I’m being chased!

By the cops?

No, a Farmer! Let me in please. I have money!

Well, I have bills, I thought. I unchained the door and he pushed it with his snout and came bounding into my living room.

A pig! I shouted.

At least I’m not a Republican, he