This story was a rejected submission for Best Gay Erotica of the Year, Vol. 4. That it’s narrated by a stalker made it a tough sell, but it’s more of a raunchy dark comedy than erotica. So, if it doesn’t turn on, maybe it will make you laugh.

Love You Always!
May 10, 2016, 10:49 p.m.

Hi Brian,

How have you been? I know it’s been awhile—three months, in fact. But then I saw you today—you were in the parking garage next to your office building—and thought I’d send you an e-mail. You are looking well, I have to say. Not just well—fine. The beard looks good on you. Funny that you should grow one after I’ve shaved mine. I could also tell you’ve been hitting the gym pretty hard. Looked like your muscles were about to burst out of your  shirt, like the Hulk! Made me realize I’m in danger of becoming the Incredible Bulk if I don’t break up with my new boyfriends, Ben and Jerry.

When I saw you I thought about walking up to you, just to say hello and see how you’ve been, but I didn’t want you to think I was stalking you. It was strictly a coincidence I was in the there. I had a dental appointment today and since my dentist is just a couple blocks from where you work I figured I’d park in your secure garage rather than park on the street in front of Dr. Shanley’s office. Still, what were the odds that you’d be leaving your office at the exact moment I was about to get out of my car?


You were so cute the way you would get embarrassed, blushing and trying to turn away, telling me to stop because people were staring. I’d say that I didn’t care, that I’d suck your cock during a church service I wanted you so bad. You’d chuckle then pull me close. “You’re a nut,” you’d say, returning my kiss. And I could feel you getting hard as we held each other, probably thinking about that church blowjob. We never made it to church, but I found plenty of other unique places to suck you off!

The guy you were with was handsome, I guess, for an older guy. More of a polar bear type, not the type I pictured you with. I was actually jealous! Then I realized I was just being silly. He’s just probably a co-worker, maybe even a supervisor. He’s probably straight. Anyway, what do I care? You’re a free man, free to see whomever you please. If you’re happy, I’m happy.

Don’t be shy about giving me a call. Maybe we could do lunch sometime? (You did say you wanted to remain friends.) Hope to hear from you soon!

Love you always!



May 13, 2016, 8:27 p.m.

Hi Brian,

Me again. Not sure if you got my last message. I sometimes think e-mail can be as unreliable as snail mail. But maybe you’ve just been busy, especially with that sexy new boyfriend, lol.

Surprised that I know? So am I! I was having lunch today at that vegetarian place near your office, Garden Variety. (Seeing you looking so good inspired me to improve my diet.) I was sitting at a table at the front window, eating my tempeh sub, staring longingly at La Cicciolina’s across the street (tempeh is no substitute for veal parmigiana, let me tell you), and who should I see walking out the restaurant’s front doors but you and your new man. I didn’t know he was your new man at first, of course. I figured he was just a another guy you worked with, but then I saw you put your hand on his back, saw it drift down to his waist then rest on his butt just a little too long. Then, in case there was any doubt, the two of you ducked behind that shrub for a kiss. Probably thought no one could see you, but I did!

Not that I begrudge you your PDA. I remember how we couldn’t keep our hands off each other when we first started going together. Every time I saw your face I wanted to kiss you. I didn’t care where we were—in line at Starbucks, shopping at Trader Joe’s, your office Christmas party—I just had to put my mouth on yours. You were so cute, the way you would get embarrassed, blushing and trying to turn away, telling me to stop because people were staring. I’d say that I didn’t care, that I’d suck your cock during a church service, I wanted you so bad. You’d chuckle then pull me close. “You’re a nut,” you’d say, returning my kiss. And I could feel you getting hard as we held each other, probably thinking about that church blowjob. We never made it to church, but I found plenty of other unique places to suck you off! Remember that time when we went out to the car during your nephew’s high school graduation? We’d already been together for six months then, but I was still as horny as if we’d only been together for two days. It was imperative that I suck you off right then, during the salutatorian’s speech. I was too turned on to wait until we got back home. I always wondered if your sister suspected or if she always had that disapproving expression on her face, but you’d know better than I.

Relationships are always at their most exciting when they’re new, aren’t they?

And now you’re experiencing that excitement all over again, you lucky bastard! Your new beau sure looks exciting. So HOT! (Or should I say so caliente? He looks Latin. Is he?) What a body! He has the perfect inverted triangle torso. No wonder you’ve stepped up your workouts. You’d have to, just to stay in his league. Not much of an ass on him, though, from what I could see. I’m not pointing that out to be petty; it’s just surprising, you being such an avowed ass man and all. Remember what you said to me when you first seduced me? (No, not “Get on your knees,” silly!) You said: “You’ve got the hottest ass I’ve ever seen.” I remember how you loved to eat my ass. I’d roll over on my stomach and you’d bury your face in it. God, the way you speared my asshole with your tongue, over and over again, nearly made me faint. My cock leaked so much pre-cum you’d swear I’d wet the bed! You’d tongue my hole until I came or I begged you to fuck me. The only thing better than your hot tongue up my ass was your hot cock. Just writing about it now is making me hard. I have a dildo — I call it the “Brianator” — but it’s just not the same as the real thing. Think your new boyfriend would mind if you came over to give your ex one last rim job and fuck for old times’ sake?

Just kidding!!!!

I would love to meet to meet this new man of yours. Maybe we could get together for dinner sometime? Just give me a call. You may have changed your number but mine’s still the same.

Love you always!



May 16, 2016, 4:10 p.m.

Hi Brian,

So good to hear from you! I was beginning to think you were avoiding me. However, I was a little hurt by the tone of your e-mail. When we broke up you said you wanted to remain friends, and I want to remain friends, which is why I’ve been doing my best to keep in touch. I hardly think this makes me an “obsessive psycho” who needs “professional help.” Telling me to “get a fucking life” was particularly mean. I have a life, and you are a part of that life.

That’s why I was at your office today, because I thought it was best to discuss this in person. Your receptionist said you were in a meeting so I said I’d wait. And I did, for almost two hours, which was an hour longer than I could tolerate reading magazines about golf and business, as well as your receptionist’s dirty looks (someone should really talk to her about her attitude, IMO). I decided I’d check back with you after lunch and went to get something to eat. Well, as I was getting off the elevator at the ground floor lobby who should I see waiting to get on but your new boyfriend, Mr. Caliente! He’s even hotter up close. Those eyes alone are enough to make a man drop to his knees, aren’t they? It looks like there’d be plenty to wrap your mouth around when you did, if that bulge in those khakis is any indication, though I realize bulges can be deceiving. He might be wearing a cock ring or it might be a case of “all potatoes and no meat,” to quote Gore Vidal, but I’ll just assume there’s truth in what he’s advertising. (You might want to ask him why he’s advertising if he’s got you. Just saying.)

Your meeting must have wrapped up a few minutes after Mr. Caliente arrived because I saw the two of you get off the elevator not ten minutes later. Did you see me? I was sitting in that little waiting area across from the elevators. I waved but then you two disappeared through the door to the stairs. I guess you forgot something? Regardless of the reason I decided to follow you because I really felt it was necessary that we talked.

I got as far as the fourth floor before it hit me that there might be another, sexier reason you two headed upstairs. Remember when we first started dating and I surprised you for lunch? You suggested that Thai place on 10th Street, but I said I had a better idea. You had no idea why I led you into the parking garage stairwell that day. You kept asking me what I was up to, even getting a little annoyed.

That memory made me stop in my tracks today. I heard you two a few floors up, breathing heavy. You said something, though I couldn’t make out what you said. Mr. Caliente laughed, and I think I heard you two kissing. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, thinking of day when we stopped on the landing between the sixth and seventh floors of the parking garage and I told you I wanted to suck your cock. You were so cute, the way you shook your head and smiled, saying you were afraid we’d get caught. It was your nephew’s graduation all over again. Between kisses I told you not to worry, no one’s going to take the stairs higher than the third floor. You already had a semi when I unzipped your pants, and it was rock hard by the time I put my mouth on it. You do have one of the most beautiful cocks, Brian. I hope your new boyfriend appreciates it as much as I do. I loved circling my tongue around that helmet shaped head, then feeling the shaft slide down my throat. When I sucked your cock on the stairs that day I remember your fingers running through my hair and you telling me I was so amazing. I remember you trying to be quiet, like you were holding your breath as you got closer to cumming, but finally you couldn’t help yourself. That “oh yes” reverberated up and down the stairwell.

I listened for your “oh yes” today while I stood on the fourth floor landing, but all I could hear was my own breathing. I was so horny, thinking about us—thinking about you—that I continued up the stairs, looking for you. As I approached each level I expected to find Mr. Caliente on his knees, taking your gorgeous cock down his throat. Or maybe you’d be the one on your knees, sucking him. But each floor was empty. I gave up when I reached the tenth floor. By then I was so exhausted from the climb that I sank to my knees. But my cock was still standing tall! When I unzipped my pants and reached inside I discovered my underwear was soaked with pre-cum. My cock was drooling! I spit in my hand for lube, but it was hardly necessary. That’s how turned on I was, Brian. Just the memory of your cock and your oh yesses had made me a slave to my cock, the way I was once a slave to yours. I swear I came in five minutes. I shot my load into my palm and ate it, imagining it was you feeding it to me. I always loved it when you scooped up my jizz from my belly and made me suck it off your fingers. I loved it even more when I had a mouth full of your cum. Does Mr. Caliente swallow? I feel sorry for you if he doesn’t. No only is it sexy as hell, it’s convenient too. Just think of all the pairs of pants that might have been ruined had I not happily let you shoot your load directly down my throat!

After I got off on the stairwell I went back to your office (I stopped by the men’s room first; didn’t want to show up with cum smeared across my face, lol). That twat at the front desk said you weren’t back from lunch, so I just left a message for you to call me. It’s now 4:00 p.m. and I haven’t heard from you yet, Brian. I hope you call soon. Maybe we could arrange a lunch date to talk things out, since I think a face-to-face meeting is best for what I want to say. BTW, as much as I’d love to be introduced, please don’t bring along Mr. Caliente; this doesn’t concern him. I hope he’s not one of those overly possessive types who gets suspicious whenever you see your friends. God, those type of guys are the worst.

Love you always!



June 7, 2016, 11:36 p.m.

Hi Brian,

I’ve learned a few things about Jacob Gutierrez (a.k.a. Mr. Caliente) this week. His name, obviously, though I wish I had been given of a proper introduction rather than learning it from that police report he filed. I also learned he’s a liar.

I realize he’s your boyfriend, Brian, but I also know that you know there are two sides to every story. I feel you should hear my side, because clearly Jacob’s side is colored by his own motives and jealousies.

For starters, the fact that I joined the same gym he belongs to was pure coincidence, as was the fact that my chosen workout schedule happened to be the same as his. The same way I happened to see you and Jacob leaving La Cicciolina’s that day or saw you standing in line at the Phipps Plaza theater a week later or having coffee at Caribou Coffee in Ansley this past Sunday. I joined that gym because it was having a special on new memberships. I’m not going to pay higher prices just so your boyfriend can feel comfortable.

I would also like to know how a person rides a stationary bike in a “lewd manner,” as Jacob claims I did. He may not realize this, being so challenged in the posterior department (I’m sorry, Brian, beautiful though he is, Jacob simply has no ass), but buttocks will undulate when the legs are moving in a circular motion, as they do when pedaling a stationary bike. Since I’m blessed with a perfect bubble butt (the hottest ass you had ever seen, remember?) my glutes probably flex and rotate in a more pronounced way than a flatter, less developed ass like Jacob’s. He probably saw my shapely rear, rising off the seat, muscles flexing beneath my tight red shorts, and couldn’t help but interpret it in a sexual way. Likewise, he couldn’t help but imagine all the fun you must have had with me, caressing my firm globes before you rested your handsome face against them, whispering about the hotness of my butt and how just the sight of it made you hard. As Jacob worked out on the weight machine behind me he likely stared at me on that stationary bike in front of him, watching my ass swing to and fro, a mental picture forming of you prying apart my butt cheeks and pressing your face in between to feast on my hairy hole. Knowing you’re an ass man, he also knew that mine would be an erotic amusement park for a man like you, while he could only offer a kiddie ride at a depressing county fair. He could hear you feasting on my butthole, the imagined grunting and slurping cutting through the music piped through his earbuds. Perhaps he also imagined hearing me, breathlessly begging you, as your tongue speared my quivering sphincter, to please, please fuck me, followed by my cries of ecstasy as you sank your weeping, throbbing cock into me. Then there was the steady rhythm of your pelvis slapping against my luxurious buttocks as you relentlessly pounded me. I’m sure that cacophony of lust reverberating through his head made it next to impossible to hear the rhythms of Ariana! (Is he an Ariana Grande fan? He strikes me as someone who’d go for that type of thing.) That’s the real reason he cut his turn on the weight machine short, if you ask me.

Jacob’s assertion that I exposed myself to him while doing bench presses may not be entirely incorrect, but his claim that I did so intentionally definitely is. Were the shorts I was wearing on the skimpy side? True, but that’s hardly a sex crime. They’d have to lock up half the joggers in Piedmont Park if that were so! Had I neglected to wear underwear? True again, but you know I’ve always found jockstraps confining, even though they are sexy, especially on you. So, I concede it’s entirely possible that while I was on the bench, pressing 225, my back arched, my legs spread, my hairy thighs trembling, my calf muscles rigid, that the crotch of my shorts may have pulled to one side, allowing my junk to tumble out. Honestly, I have no idea if this happened or not, I was so intent on my workout. I certainly didn’t know Jacob was on a treadmill nary 10 feet away. But if my junk had escaped my shorts, what of it? He saw a set of cock and balls— heaven forfend! If Jacob is that offended by the human body then he has no business being at a gym. Of course, I know—as I’m sure you do—that he wasn’t offended by seeing the male anatomy so much as he was hurt seeing the anatomy of his boyfriend’s ex. Poor thing had already been dealing with his feelings of inadequacy after staring at my ass, knowing that a full, round male butt is what really appeals to you, and then he gets a look at my genitalia. Granted, Jacob is better hung (I saw him in the locker room; definitely more meat than potatoes!), yet it still couldn’t be easy for him to have to seen the cock you had once caressed, had taken in your mouth, down your throat; to know that my average-sized member brought you as much pleasure as that anaconda he’s swinging between his legs… How torturous that must have been for him, to realize the one thing that makes him special doesn’t really matter to you.

While I’m sympathetic to the complicated emotions my presence must have elicited, I cannot forgive him for the accusations made against me following our encounter in the steam room. I had not, as he claims, followed him in there. I didn’t even know he’d gone into the locker room until I walked by the showers and noticed him in there, standing with his head thrown back, rinsing the sweat from his black hair, water cascading down his smooth, muscular torso decorated with a single tattoo on his left pec, his generous endowment dividing the water into separate streams that splashed down on either side of his shaved ball sack (I think he shaves his balls; honestly, I just glanced in his direction on my way to my locker). Since I personally find it pointless to shower before a steam bath, I just went into the steam room after disrobing. Well, who should I see sitting there, becoming engulfed in hot white clouds, but Mr. Caliente! He saw me, too. I thought this might be a good time as any to introduce myself, so I said, “Hey, aren’t you Brian’s boyfriend?” Just trying to be friendly, but evidently your Jacob has no interest in making new friends. He asked what was my “fucking problem,” then threatened to report me to management if I did not leave. I explained there was no need for such hostility, that I just realized where I had seen him before and thought we should introduce ourselves. “After all, we have so much in common,” I said. “We’ve both know what Brian’s cum tastes like.” I thought that was funny, but Jacob, having no sense of humor, told me to shut my “fucking mouth.” He made a move for the door but I headed him off, standing in front of it, asking him to hear me out. I tried to explain that I only wanted us all to be friends, that a friend of yours is a friend of mine. Had Jacob stopped shouting and actually listened, he’d hear my thoughts about keeping his relationship with you vibrant by not making the same mistakes I did. I explained that since you’re a highly sexual person it will be important for him to keep things interesting, and that sometimes that can be more than one man can deliver. I certainly know this now, though I did try to be all things to you, Brian. At some point, I explained to Jacob, he might need assistance, someone to sit on your face while he sucks your cock, or maybe he’d like to sink that horsecock of his down another man’s throat while you fuck that man’s luxuriant ass, or maybe you would want a man open to double penetration. Well, who better than someone already familiar to you, someone you know will stop at nothing to see you happy and sexually fulfilled?

Jacob didn’t hear any of this, of course, too busy calling me a “psychotic motherfucker” and trying to push me out of the way. That was when I slipped. I tried to regain my balance but it was impossible on the damp tile. Before I knew it I was on my ass. It was in trying to get back on my feet that I may have bumped against Jacob, what he described as “head-butting” his crotch, causing him also fall on the floor. Naturally, I tried to help him up, but, really, that floor in the steam room was quite slippery and I ended up falling on top of him. I might have found it funny if Jacob hadn’t told police that I had “pinned” him to the floor. Can you believe it? A comedy of errors turned into assault with one word.

This was about the time that the gym’s manager, accompanied by a security guard, threw open the steam room door. It was regrettable that I had a hard-on when they did; perhaps if I hadn’t the gym’s management might have been willing to listen to my explanation of events. Instead I have been branded a pervert, all because of your boyfriend’s lies, borne out of jealousy and resentment, and because no one can bother to do a goddamn Google search about the phenomenon of spontaneous erections. They’re not necessarily sexual, people!

That’s why I’m imploring you, Brian, to please talk to Jacob. Even though we’re no longer together, you know me, and know that I’m not the sort to do what he’s accusing me of. Let him know that while his animosity towards me is understandable, his slanderous charges are petty and vindictive, especially when you consider this is all one big misunderstanding on his part. After all, I’ve already been barred from the gym, with no refund. That’s $150 I’ll never see again! Isn’t that punishment enough?

Love you always,

P.S. I’m totally on board for a three-way if you two are. I don’t hold a grudge. :)


August 23, 2017

Hi Brian,

I hope this finds you doing well. Actually, I hope this finds you, period. I tried e-mailing but I guess you closed that account since all my messages bounced back. So I’m resorting to snail mail, hoping you haven’t moved. Also, please don’t bring this letter to the attention of the police. I know it violates the restraining order, but, as you can see by the return address, I’m more than 300 feet away. I’m not even in the same state! That’s right, I’m now living in Tennessee. After losing my job and all my legal trouble I could no longer afford to stay in Atlanta, so I bit the bullet and moved back home. I’ve become a cliché: an old queen living with his mother, lol!

I was depressed for a while, to be sure, but I’m slowly getting back on my feet. I got a new job, working at a grocery store. It’s a far cry from my marketing position at Turner, and it doesn’t pay shit, but it gets me out of the house and it is less stressful than my old job.
And there’s a new man in my life. His name is Jesus Christ.

Just kidding!!! Though Mother’s trying her damnedest to set us up, dragging me to church every Sunday, I haven’t become a born again wacko. However, if Jesus were really as hot as some paintings portray him, I’d do him in a minute! Poor Mother would be crushed if she knew the things I’ve imagined doing with the Son of God—or Warner Crittle, a young deacon at her church. Simply gorgeous! He sort of looks like Henry Cavill, if Henry Cavill had a cheap haircut and didn’t have a personal trainer. Even if he’s not as ripped, he’s still quite nice. (If you send me your new phone number I’ll text you a photo.) He’s got a great ass, too, though not as great as mine. :)  You’d still want to eat it all day long, Brian; I know you would because I want to eat his ass all day long. But, of course, he’s straight, married to some petite blonde thing who’s squeezed out two Aryan children for him. One look at her at you can tell she’d never put a dick in her mouth, let alone tongue a man’s asshole. If only Warner would let me help him explore his inner bi-sexual… Shit, I stand a better chance with Jesus!

Then again, this little town is just teaming with closet cases. You’d be surprised at how many rednecks love cock! I was actually cruised while shopping at Walmart. Seriously! No more Neiman Marcus for me. I was looking for a pair of shorts that was quasi-fashionable when I noticed this 20-something guy practically shadowing me. At one point he “accidentally” bumped into me while I was checking out a sales rack (everything was either hideous or not my size). He apologized, smiling at me while not-so-casually squeezing his crotch. Though I wouldn’t describe him as hot—his nose was a little too big for his face, and he had plugs in his earlobes the size of bottle caps—he was do-able. And do him I did. We ended up sucking each other off behind an abandoned gas station. It was deliciously sleazy, though still not as much fun as the “public” blowjobs I’ve given you. He didn’t give the best head, but maybe I shouldn’t be comparing him to you. He did have a huge cock, though; he was impressed I was able to take the whole thing down my throat without gagging. He surprised me when he came. Jizz all over! Hope Mother doesn’t notice the cum stain on the passenger seat. That’s what I get for driving a car with cloth upholstery!

And I’ve even been dating again. There was a brief fling with Avery, a cute hairstylist at a local salon, the Final Kut. He had an interesting look: head shaved except for a shock of pink and platinum hair on top, his beard left its natural brown, and tattoos all over his slim body. It won’t surprise you to learn he was a total bottom, but fortunately I can be versatile. I pounded his little butt the way you pounded mine. Avery liked me to pile drive him until he shot his load onto his own face. But the fun had to come to an end, as it always does. Apparently a produce clerk at Ingle’s was beneath Avery’s station; he dumped me for a Macy’s menswear associate in Franklin, a town about 30 miles away from here. Well, if he wants to commute for cock, so be it. I’ve already found another man: Rex. He’s a sexy muscle bear (not crazy about his mustache, but I’m trying to appreciate it in a ’70s porn kind of way). I met him when he was making a beer delivery to the store. That’s right, I’m fucking a trucker! A total butch fantasy. Admittedly we don’t have much in common, but I find it kind of cute that he thinks Red Lobster is a fancy restaurant, and it really doesn’t matter that he only reads Guns and Ammo. All that matters is he has a fat cock and he loves to use it. He fucks me so hard that I might end up having to file for disability, because I may never walk again. Rex is simply brutal!

But as much as I love a good, hard fuck, I do wish he’d work on his bedroom banter. To hear him talk you’d think he was raping his cellmate. I much preferred hearing you tell me how good my ass felt as you buried your cock inside it. I can almost feel your hot breath on my ear as you grunted with each thrust, occasionally whispering that you loved me. Remember that? From a man who loved me to one that pushes my face into a pillow while fucking me doggy style and barks, “Take that hard cock, faggot!” You just never know how your life will end up, do you?

But enough about me. How are you and Jacob doing? Are you still together? You two seemed pretty committed to each other when filing that restraining order, but we all know how fleeting rebound relationships can be, especially when one partner is so easily threatened by the men in his boyfriend’s past. If you two still are together I hope Jacob was able to work out his insecurities, accepting that a hot 34-year-old man like yourself wouldn’t exactly be moldering in a monastery prior to meeting him. In fact, I like to think that he feels pretty silly about all those accusations. (Once again, for the record, I did not jerk off onto the windshield of his Mazda, I don’t care what’s shown on the security camera footage. Those images were so grainy, that could’ve been any 30-something white guy. Clearly a case of mistaken identity, IMO.) I still think we all could be friends. Maybe we could all do lunch next time I’m in Atlanta —provided you get the judge to lift that protection order, of course. Hate to be arrested before the appetizers arrive, lol! If Jacob feels awkward about it please assure him that all is forgiven. I certainly understand how love can make people do crazy things. He just got a little carried away, that’s all.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Love you always!