A collection of fourteen gay erotic short stories, this is a scintillating look into the world of gay porn.
Book Description
Editorial Reviews
About the Author
Mickey Skee was named one of the Top 10 Movers and Shakers in Porn, in 1998 by Attitude magazine-in the enviable spot just beneath Jeff Stryker. For more than a decade Skee reviewed porn tapes before becoming Gay & Bi Editor of Adult Video News, where he now is Senior Editor. He has written for the Gay Video Guide, Manshots, Thrust, Skinflicks, Firsthand, Jocks, Skin, Urge, All Men and many other magazines. He also coordinates gay judging each year for the Adult Video News "Oscars" of Porn, helped create the fan-picked Probe Men-in-Video Awards and co-founded the Gay Erotic Video Awards. His other books include THE BEST OF Gay Adult Video Annual, BAD BOYS ON VIDEO-Interviews with Gay Adult Stars and The Films of KEN RYKER.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
From Hollywood Hardcore Diaries-CHAPTER 11: The White Stuff: One Big Spurt for Mankind January 10, 1994
Selling my soul to a nasty tabloid is beginning to take a toll on me, as is my bi-coastal relationship with a famous soap star, who is locked in the closet.
His name is Brian DeJanni. Gosh, I've been afraid even to write his name in my diary for fear he'd be outed if someone were to read it. Brian is thrilled with the stories I'm doing and marvels at my clips, but he talks mostly about what he is doing and who he is meeting back in Hollywood. Yawn!
I just returned from Cape Carniverous in Florida. I was there to do some in-depth digging on the astronaut program. Well, I uncovered a fantastic story by hanging out at a local bar.
My story has been well received. It won me a few awards and a big bonus, but what was published wasn't the real story. That I held on to for my book. It's a true story about what happened to some of our most famous dudes in space.
It was told to me first-hand by "The Kid"-one of the most handsome men on the planet-and any other, for that matter. It took a bit of cajoling, in my own special way, to get it out of him and the other famous space guys, but I knew the right bar, and got to know the right men. They all had, you see, the white stuff...
My rigid body slammed backward, then bucked forward, and the feeling that washed over me was just as I always imagined it would be. The surging thrust in my face, the thumping pressure on my chest, the pulsating throb through my veins-all of this happening at the same time-overwhelmed me, winded me, stole my breath away, set my blood on fire. In one rush, every single one of my muscles squeezed like a taut iron-rock-hard, yet penetrable. That unrelenting-heavy weight on my chest forced my breathing to remain steady and kept my legs from buckling. It was tense, intense, intrusive-but at the same time, it was relaxing, soothing and safe. It aroused every part of my body. Every jolted nerve tingled. Sweat beaded on my brow, trickled down my nose, formed into an oozy glob that plopped onto my chest, creating a steady stream of hot wetness that ran down between my pecs, into my navel and beyond. I was losing my breath, losing my consciousness. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before.
Few guys had ever done it. I knew they all wanted to, though. We were shooting off into space in the most modern rocket ever built. I realized what they said about it was true: launching into space is much better than sex.
I didn't realize how erotic the primary rocket boost would be. We certainly had enough indications of what it would feel like, but nothing could compare to the real thing. All those G-forces squeezing down on your torso, your lap, your thighs-it was uncanny. I felt like my hard-on would rip right through my aluminum pants.
As we swirled beyond the cold blue stratosphere, Captain Stevens looked over at me and signaled a thumbs up. I saw his thin, chapped lips quiver. I focused on the stubble of his jutting, dimpled chin and I forced a smile. He couldn't speak yet because our bodies were still pushed back into our rumbling seats. He closed his eyes and let his head slip back. I couldn't help but wonder if he, too, was reaching a point of ecstasy.
"Secondary shuttle booster engaged," intoned Ground Control through our headsets.
We surged again, this time as though a hot wave were washing over us. Then, a rumbling, sputtering motion caused both our bodies to rock. My torso tensed; I felt my cock aching and straining in the rubber tube where it had been so carefully placed by a wide-eyed hunk of an engineer only a few hours before. My eyes bulged, my face flushed. Oh, it was delicious. Yeah. Oh, yeah.
"Secondary rocket released."
Wham! We broke through the last layer of the ionosphere, the vibrations of my body ceased and we were yanked forward into marshmallowy nothingness. The lasts three bucking blasts of the ship got me. Oh, oh, aaaah. The contortions of my hardness eased finally in the tube. Captain Stevens smirked and looked over. I couldn't help but wonder if the inside of his space suit was as sticky as mine.
When the pressure subsided, we were weightless in the middle of space. It was euphoric, empty and alone. It was a time to relax, catch our breath, reflect. The captain removed his silvery glove and put a hairy hand on my shoulder.
"We did it, kid, we're in space," he said in his commanding but soft baritone.
Kid. He always called me kid. It irked me, but it didn't really matter now. In reality, I was only ten years younger than he, and certainly not young enough to be called kid. Especially since he had already discovered during our training together that I was definitely and most assuredly all man-all over.
We'd been training together for the last six months. We had to get to know each other - intimately. In the early days, he helped me get used to motion sickness. He comforted me when I was throwing up my lunch during our shuttle simulations. He even gave me a bristly mouth-to-mouth once when I passed out during a stress revolution test. I feigned my fainting spell a bit longer, just so I could feel his hard lips pressed against mine for a moment longer; just so he could say "C'mon, snap out of it kid" one more time.
Okay, maybe I am a kid when it comes to space travel. But I held out, and surpassed the twelve other guys in our highly competitive class and earned the right to go on this mission with Captain Stevens.
At first, I was shy with him. We worked out together, exercising each other's pecs, giving each other slaps on the shoulder, slaps on the thighs along the way. We swam together in our flesh-hugging Speedos. I tried not to stare whenever he emerged from the pool with his thick rod flopping off to the left inside of his suit; the tip barely poking out of the elastic. We studied together and lived together in close quarters. I remained distant and quiet until one day when we were alone in the showers.
It was after our daily swim. He spent a lot of the time underwater, diving beneath me as I completed my fifty laps. I felt his rippling between my legs. His hairy body brushed against me as I flipped my turn when I reached the side of the pool. I ignored him as much as I could. This was the Captain: the respected family man, the pride of the Space Program. I couldn't seem interested.
"Time to hit the showers," he grunted, giving me a stinging slap on the buttocks as I stood on the steps heaving after my swim. I followed his dripping, hulking frame over the tiles, almost rear-ending him as he stopped to slip his trunks off.
We stood there fully naked, side by side rather than across from each other so I wouldn't be tempted to gawk. Our shower nozzles were each within reaching distance of the other. I had my back to him and he brushed against me. I felt a slight, gentle nudge on the cheek of my ass. I thought that his dangling stray hand touched me unintentionally as he reached for the soap. But he was slightly closer than he needed to be. And, when I turned to look at him, I noticed that both of his hands were shampooing his thick black curly hair on his chest.
No, it wasn't his hand that brushed my cheeks.
" 'Scuse me, kid, just needed the soap," the captain smiled. His deep voice echoed in the cavern of our private showers.
My curious blue eyes followed his massive, strong hands from his soapy head down to his broad, bulky shoulders and then down even farther to his furry chest. As he lathered up the soap, I couldn't help but stifle a gasp at the bulge just below his belly-button. Continued ...
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
EROTIC, but not NASTY...the best BEDSIDE reading,
By A Customer
This review is from: Hollywood Hardcore Diaries: Erotic Tales from a Porn Reporter (Paperback)
I've read this book on the plane, and not had to worry about people looking over my shoulder and seeing nasty pictures. This is a fun read, it's very erotic, and it's very SMART, too. Good work!
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
VERY fun read, THE BEST EROTICA I've read in a long time.,
By A Customer
This review is from: Hollywood Hardcore Diaries: Erotic Tales from a Porn Reporter (Paperback)
I read so much of this kind of book, and this one had me going every single story. It's cleverly written, funny, and isn't just hardcore sex, but told in a hot, different way. A must-have for anyone who enjoys erotica!
5 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
This is the SMARTEST SEXIEST EROTIC I've ever read...,
By A Customer
This review is from: Hollywood Hardcore Diaries: Erotic Tales from a Porn Reporter (Paperback)
This is a smart, funny, very nasty book, involving every kind of kinky fantasy. We love reading this, and I got one for my friends. These are smart erotic novelistic stories with a small moral and always a great twist. Hurray Mickey Skee, this is a great find, and you're a great writer.
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