I’ve written four stories about Shamus, and this is a fifth – but it’s the first, chronologically – a prequel if you will. It’s called “Little Shamus” It’s told in first person, a little different from the other Shamus stories like “Muscle Beach” or “Dirty Cop.”

Here’s an excerpt from the novella:

One day, I was doing squats, and I seen Coach Hurley standing in the doorway watching me. He was looking at my legs, I figured. But he wasn’t.

He said, “Shamus, after this, come see me in my office.”

I thought I was in trouble, but when he smiled, I felt something funny going on in my gut.

“Hey Coach, what’s up?”

He said, “I’ve been watching you, and I think you’re a natural. You have great form, and nearly every muscle shows itself as you move. Do you know how special that is?”

I shook my head.

“Well, Shamus, it’s pretty damn special. There’s competitions for this stuff out in Santa Monica. You heard of Muscle Beach?”

“No, sir.”

The coach grinned and leaned forward, looking me straight in the eyes. “I think you should enter one of those contests.” Then he put his hand on my forearm. I thought it was weird, but it felt good. He squeezed it.

“Look at you. Barely five feet tall and 150 pounds of muscle. You’re a real lady killer, I bet.”

I shrugged. “Nah, I don’t have a girlfriend or nothin’.”

Then the coach licked his lips. He took out a measuring tape. “Let’s see how big you are.”

I immediately thought of my little dick, even though I knew he meant something else. He was wearing gray sweatpants. When he stood up, I could see he had a hard-on. It wasn’t big, not like the kind I like now, but it was obvious.

He stood close to me while he measured my neck, chest, shoulders, biceps, and waist. When he got to my thighs, he brushed against my crotch. I was hard, but he’d never know it. I was relieved I was so small just then because I was ashamed of how much I liked him touching me. Then he said something.

“It’s okay. Not everyone has a big one. It makes your legs stand out.”

I must have been beet red because my face was burning. After Coach did my thighs, he went to my hips and ass. He whistled.

“Shoot, that’s nice.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant. Now he was rubbing his crotch and looking at me like a fried chicken dinner.

“You don’t have a girlfriend. Do you like men?”

“No!’ I was quick to say it because it meant I was a faggot, and I didn’t realize it until just that second. I didn’t want him to know.

“Are you sure? It’s okay if you do. I like men.”

“Y-you’re a faggot?”

The coach smacked my leg hard. “I’m not a faggot, Shamus. I appreciate a good body on anyone. But yours is beyond perfect. He put a hand on my ass and started rubbing it. My gym shorts got wet.

“So you don’t have sex with men, right?” I was hardly ever scared, but this had me freaking out.

“Oh, I do. Women, too. I have kids, Shamus. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like to play around with guys. I’m bisexual.”

I was curious. “Do you want to have sex with me?” I meant it one way, but it came out another.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He pulled down his sweats, and his boner popped out. It was probably just five inches, but compared to my little pecker, it was huge. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with it at first. He stepped forward and brushed it against my lips. I guess I’d been dreaming about something like this. My body was shaking; I was so scared. I put my hand around it. It felt amazing to pull on it. When I played with myself, it was just my thumb and finger. I used my whole hand on Coach Hurley.

I pulled on it for a couple of minutes. The Coach moaned and shifted around a lot.

“Do you want to suck it?” He put a hand behind my ear and gently pulled me closer. I could see it was leaking the same stuff I did. That clear, drippy shit. I didn’t think; I just licked it up. It tasted way better than I thought it would. The coach’s legs shook.

“Suck it, son.”

I didn’t have no father, and when he called me son, I felt like some missing piece just fell into place. I opened my mouth and wrapped it around the tip of his dick. He pulled me closer by the ear, and it slipped into my mouth. When he reached close to the end, I felt like puking. He stopped right there, letting me hurl a few times.

“It’ll stop, son. Just control it, like you do when you’re releasing a dumbbell. Just nice and slow, that’s it.”

My eyes were watering. He pushed all the way in and tickled my tonsils. Then he put both hands behind my head and pulled me real close so my nose was buried in his pubic hair. Then he humped my face.

“Oh, Shamus, you’re a natural at this, too.”

I felt proud. The coach appreciated me like a son. I didn’t know why I needed that so bad. But I did. I tasted more of that sticky stuff, and it made my little pee pee drool. I fingered it while I sucked the coach’s dick. I’d played with myself before but didn’t know about coming yet. I just liked how it felt and then quit. I never realized there was more. With that dick in my mouth, I felt something building inside me. The coach started to breathe faster, and I could tell he was building up, too.

“Oh fuck, Shamus, you’re gonna make me come.” There was that word. And hearing it made my dick start to throb. The coach’s dick was bigger than ever. It fit in my mouth, but I could feel it pulsing against my lips. He grabbed me again and held himself inside, at the back of my mouth.

“Oh shit, oh shit!” Then I felt it, the warm blast of come filling my mouth. 

I couldn’t say nothing, so I just hummed and breathed hard through my nose. That building sensation felt so weird, then it went off the chart. I thought I peed my shorts, but it was thick and goopy, just like the coach. That was the first time I ever came.

When the coach stepped back, his drippy cock hit my chin and then landed on his balls. He got out a towel and wiped it off. Then he lifted me up and kissed me, letting his tongue taste some of his own jizz. His mustache tickled my nose, just like his pubes had done. I liked it when he kissed me like that. It was my first kiss, and it came after my first time sucking dick!

“You’re a good little cocksucker, son. Real good.”

I smiled. “Thank you, sir.”