The More the Merrier

Some guys simply can't get enough Whether it's an impecunious male stripper doing it at the behest of his ambitious boyfriend, a Victorian-era working class lad doing it to get information, a guy in drag for Halloween whose boyfriend can't get it up anymore, or a guy who wants to teach his boyfriend a lesson, some men love the excitement of multiple partners where they are the focus of attention. Here are ten stories of the raunchiest gangbang erotica available from one of the best writers of the genre. The More The Merrier was originally published by loveyoudivine Alterotica and includes - Marine Biology, Flesh for Fantasy, Sluts & Satyrs, Buck's Night, Four On The Floor, Framing the Picture of Dorian Gray, Fuck Buddy, Seven Card Studs, Dude, Where's The Bar? and New Year's Steve - All previously published as individual eBooks by loveyoudivine Alterotica. Flesh for Fantasy was first published in a slightly different form in Cargo #11 (BlackWattle Press, 1991) Excerpt from: Buck's Night "Suck it, slut," Walsh demanded none too pleasantly. I didn't want to, and I sure wasn't going to without permission. It was six months to my final exams, and I had no intention of spending them on the street. I glanced over at my boyfriend Rhys. He shrugged, but smiled encouragement. I noticed, too, that he was hard as stone in his jeans. I didn't like this change in the schedule, but I had to admit my socks were bulging with cash, so a quick mouth job on the wedding boy, and then out of there. I'd kept my identity secret, coincidentally making enough in tips to see me through next semester. I'd actually be able to contribute to the household budget for a change. It had all begun when Rhys had that fucking whine in his voice again. "What else can I do? I'll have to resign from the faculty. My career is over." "Don't be such a drama queen," I admonished. I'd been putting up with this all morning since the stripper had canceled. "Just ring and get another one." He exploded. "You don't think I've already tried that? It's Saturday, for fuck's sake. They're all busy. And most of them don't do gay. This same-sex wedding shit is all uncharted territory. Who knew there would be a demand for gay bachelor parties?" "Some enterprising gay stud with more sense than money," I said. Sadly, I hadn't seen the trap coming. "Someone like you, Cal?" In a way it was my fault. I was doing a major in Small Business at a medium-sized liberal arts university and I'd facetiously suggested as a subject for my end-of-year paper, emergent small business in the gay wedding industry. Not the catering, reception, photography, or all that pomp and paraphernalia that goes with any gender's wedding, but small businesses that were intrinsically gay. Gay men catering to bachelor parties, for example. I wasn't surprised to discover a few of the local gay male sex workers had taken to advertising their services to this burgeoning field of endeavor, those of the get-rich-quick mind set, showing how little they knew about the inherently stingy nature of gay men when it came to sex. With the rush to gay marriage before the law could be overturned by a fundamentalist backlash, there was a scarcity of the raw commodity-strippers. Considering the reputation that hetero buck's nights had attained, I was surprised any monogamous gay man would allow his partner the opportunity to indulge. Rhys and I had been together almost eighteen months, all of them filled with constant whingeing when he didn't get his way. I was trying to make our liaison work as best I could, but I was green. This was my first relationship of any duration, a weekend being my previous longest. At twenty-one, I suppose I was too young to put down roots. Plus, and I say this in all modesty, I'm quite a catch. In fact, Rhys couldn't believe his luck when I said 'yes' to his offer of a place to live.