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Nick’s Hungry Dick

By Adam Maxwell Bigglesworth

Nick was too big to hide it, so he didn’t try. He had a monster cock, way too big for a quickie. Women didn’t interest him much. He liked boys, men, dudes, anything with a dick. He spent a lot of time in the gym showers showing off and watching the other men subtly bow in deference to his mighty cock. He’d never seen a bigger dick than his. He didn’t want to. He got off on his superiority.

Sex was problematic for Nick. He went to the baths and watched the men sucking and fucking. It got him hard. But even the greediest cock pig balked at Nick’s enormous meat. He got plenty of worshippers but no actual sex. The greedy boys would hold his cock in their arms, licking the tip, but none dared put more than the head in their mouth. And nobody could take him in the ass, or at least he had never found anyone willing to try. He got a lot of ‘no-thank-yous’ and a few ‘let-me-tries,’ but he never succeeded in fucking a man. He got the tip in once or twice, but that was it. His massive cockhead was big around as a beer can, but the shaft was even thicker, like a stack of large tomato cans. It was magnificent, powerful, and frustrating. He had so much pent-up sexual energy and nowhere to release it except between his two hands. 

One midsummer day, to take his mind off of sex, he took his dick for a walk in an extensive nature preserve outside of town. The colossal cock bounced hard against his knee. He had to wear loose-fitting pants. If he wore something tight enough to hold his limp cock against his leg, it might split the seams when he got hard. The more his cock head banged against his knee, the more turned-on he got. The harder he got, the less his cock moved, and he would lose his hard-on until his cock started to swing. In a virtuous cycle of arousal, his cock swelled and shrank throughout his hikes.

The humidity and heat made him sweat. He was on a trail through a meadow, so the sun was unrelenting. Just as he wished for some shade, a path sprouted off, heading towards a copse of trees. He’d never noticed the trail before, so his curiosity won, and he took it. Soon, he was out of the blazing heat in a cool forest glade. A sparkling stream ran alongside the path. Nick stooped to cool his face, enjoying the water’s earthy scent. When he stood, he was startled by a rustling in the grass, followed by a high-pitched giggle.

“Who’s there?”

Only a tiny giggle drifted by on the breeze. Nick headed toward the giggle and saw a figure the size of a raccoon running through the tall grass.

“Wait!” He cried out.

The figure paused. Another tiny giggle erupted from the grass. Nick narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the shape in the dappled shade.

A white-haired little man, perhaps no more than a foot high, waved back at him.

Nick knelt down and held out a hand. “Hey, little guy, what are you doing here?”

The man smiled, revealing razor-sharp teeth. He gestured for Nick to follow, and so he did.

The little man led him deeper into the forest until all sunlight was gone. The earth was damp. Mushrooms grew from the rich soil at the foot of the trees. The little man stopped in front of a massive tree. The trunk was at least ten feet in diameter. It didn’t look like a native tree. Nick had never seen anything like it. The wee man picked a pink mushroom from the tree’s base and held it out to Nick.

“Eat.” The tiny voice sounded like a squeaky door hinge.

“Are you sure? Is it safe?”

“Eat.” The little man insisted, shaking the mushroom until Nick took it. He looked at the delicate fungus, wondering if he should eat it. When he lifted it to smell for any poison, the tiny man flew up and forced it into Nick’s mouth.

Nick coughed, but it was too late. The mushroom was already in his esophagus. He had to swallow. The strange little man hung from Nick’s shirt collar, giggling.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Eat.”

“What did I eat?”

“Good.” The man was not exactly a poet. His one-word answers offered Nick little reassurance.

The man nibbled at Nick’s earlobe, which felt nice. He sat on a stump, letting the little creature move to his neck, then to the little patch of fur at the base of his neck.

“More.” The little man unbuttoned Nick’s shirt, revealing his huge chest. Standing on tiptoes in Nick’s lap, the little man nursed at a nipple, sending waves of pleasure straight to Nick’s mighty cock. Nick stared up at the dark canopy of trees above. They sparkled. The edges grew fuzzy, then turned into a cloud of pink smoke. He barely noticed the little man fumbling with his belt buckle and lowering his loose pants to his ankles.

The forest spun. Nick’s cock sprang straight up as it escaped the confines of the pant leg. The little man cooed with delight. Nick’s vision went hazy, like a cross between a blur and a trail of light. He saw the little man climb his cock like a flagpole and tip, head first, into his piss slit, then crawl down towards his balls. It should have hurt, but it felt great. That was the last thing he remembered.

***

The following day, Nick woke up in his apartment. He had no recollection of leaving the forest. He checked his driveway. The car was there. He wondered if the whole hike had just been a dream. He had morning wood. He lugged his cock to the bathroom and pissed. It felt better than usual. There was a gurgling sensation near his balls. The base of his cock was thicker than he remembered. Was that little man down there? As he shook off the last droplets, he thought he heard a giggle escape from his pee hole.

It was Sunday, his favorite day at the gym. He got the most stares because it was a shorter day, so the lockers and showers were always packed. Some other gym branches were closed on Sundays, so there was always a stable of fresh young bodybuilders to impress with his massive organ.

Nick worked out in his favorite pair of loose, gray sweatpants. He smiled at the guys who peeked in his direction, unsure if what they saw through the fabric could be real. Nick always flashed back a confident grin that silently stated, “Yep, bro, it’s exactly what you think it is.”

Working his hamstrings on the leg curl machine, he smiled each time he had to fish his colossal cock out from between his massive thighs. He often heard audible gasps from the men brazen enough to look. He took mental notes. These were the guys he knew would seek him out in the showers later.

After his workout, Nick threw a towel over his shoulder and confidently strode through the locker room to the shower room. He glanced from side to side as he passed, thrilled by each hanging jaw and startled face. The shower room was ideal for showing off. The stalls had curtains that could be left strategically open enough to let people see what was inside, but if you closed the curtain, you had total privacy. The partitions were frosted glass, letting anyone on either side see the body’s outline next to them. Because of his massive size, Nick’s outline revealed everything. Most men’s little soft dicks just vanished in the shadow of his monster.

Nick chose a center shower. As he stepped into the shower stall, he heard the pitter-patter of little feet following him like a pied piper. After a hard workout, the gradually warming blast of cold water always felt good. When it was hot, he stepped inside, leaving the curtain wide open.

Directly across from him, a wide-eyed young man stared in disbelief. His hair was the color of dental floss, and his eyes were brilliant blue. He had a surfboard tattoo on one arm and a sunset on the other. His eyes never left Nick’s dick.

“Jesus, brah, what do you do with that thing?”

Nick found the question annoying, but the attention was nice.

“Piss, fuck, and cum. What do you do with that little thing?”

Nick gestured at the guy’s plump, pink, average-sized cock.

The guy said, “How can you fuck with that thing?”

Nick looked down and smiled. “Carefully.” He stared at the boy, then tilted his head in a nod that said, “Come here.”

The boy scampered across and silently joined Nick, who closed the curtain to hide their tryst from prying eyes.

In a soft whisper, he said, “You wanna touch it?”

The surfer reached out and stroked the cock like a baby petting a German Shepherd. Nick swung his hips, practically knocking the kid off his feet when his huge cock slapped into him. He repeated this, enjoying his naked flesh smacking into the boy’s downy rump.

“Dude, it’s unreal.”

Nick put a finger to the surfer’s lips. Then he gently poked a finger inside the boy’s mouth. The boy sucked it gently, looking up at Nick for reassurance. Nick nodded.

The blond boy knelt, lifting the end of Nick’s massive knob to his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the top third of the head and swirled his tongue. Nick sighed softly. “Yeah, like that.”

The kid kept at it, sending shivers down both Nick’s legs. His balls churned like two cats fighting in a bag. He’d never felt them like this before. They didn’t hurt, but they had an ache that could only be described as hunger.

The kid stuck his tongue in the slit of Nick’s enormous cock, swirling it around, lapping up precum like a kitten. The hole widened. The boy put his lips inside the opening, letting his tongue reach even farther down the urethra. This was a first. It would be a day of many firsts.

Nick’s ‘hungry’ balls began drooling more and more precum, slicking up the passageway. The boy pushed his face into the hole. His chin popped in. Nobody had ever gotten this deep in Nick’s pisser. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder to steady himself. Then, the boy’s nose slipped in. Nick felt his hot breath against the walls of his cock. Then his cock opening stretched and actually sucked the boy’s whole face inside. Only the flossy blond hair stuck out from the sides. A series of involuntary contractions sucked the entire head inside his cock. The boy kept licking deeper and deeper, unaware or indifferent to his plight. Like a boa constrictor, Nick’s urethra contracted and released, each time pulling the boy’s head further inside. Nick was flummoxed. The kid was going to suffocate! Why didn’t he struggle?

Nick’s cock paused when the boy’s shoulders reached the opening. He tried to push the boy away and rescue him, but it was too late. In a giant gulp, Nick’s cock swelled and stretched until the pee hole wrapped around the boy’s shoulders, sucking him in further. It was like a baby being born in reverse but on a much larger scale. It should have hurt to high hell, but was quite the opposite. With each gulp, Nick felt like he was cumming. The hunger in his balls decreased with each inch of surfer boy that slid into his dick. Nick felt his pectoral muscles grow, his biceps bulges, his triceps, hams, quads, and glutes all flexed and swelled as his cock devoured the innocent, uncaring surfer dude. With the shoulders past, it was quick work. The hungry cock devoured the top half of the boy, pausing to nibble at his cock before moving on to the perfect little ass. Soon, only a pair of gently kicking legs remained. Nick’s cock was a swollen boa constrictor, slurping down the last few bites of its delicious prey. His balls churned in ecstasy, their strange hunger momentarily satisfied by this absurd meal. Nick watched the toes vanish inside his huge, deformed cock. It was so massive now, with an entire young man inside, that it blocked the shower drain, causing it to flood. He turned off the water.

Despite the horror of watching another human being eaten, redoubled because it was his own cock doing the eating, he felt great. The hunger had abated. As he digested the boy, his cock slowly decreased in size. The nutrients went to his muscles. He saw new muscle groups popping out that no amount of heavy lifting had ever affected before. He flexed his arm, and the bicep bulged twice as big. He extended his leg and marveled at the enormous hams and Godzilla-like quadriceps. His calves were as thick as most men’s thighs.

As his cock softened, it burped a big gush of precum. He was beyond the kind of excitement that caused a boner. He had never felt so powerful. His mighty cock didn’t just cause men to tremble; it devoured them. It fucking ate them up! When his swollen member had finished distributing nourishment to the rest of Nick’s body, he wrapped a long towel around his waist and returned to the locker room.  His cock banged between his ankles.

***

Back home, Nick couldn’t reconcile his guilty feelings with pleasure. He tried to rationalize it like a lion eating its supper. His balls were hungry; he had to feed them. The surfer dude was just innocent prey. It was natural. But it was wrong! How could his cock and balls matter more than another man’s life? Why did thinking about it turn him on?

His cock swelled with an erection as he recalled the pleasure of eating that boy. Despite its enormous weight, it defied gravity and leaned skyward. Nick held it between his hands, his fingers no longer touching, and stroked. He pictured the tousled blond hair vanishing into the hole. He envisioned the boy’s slim hips sliding past the urethra as his huge cock nibbled at the other guy’s little pecker. His cock swelled and throbbed.

“Oh shit, that was hot.” He shed all the guilt and just let the pleasure of the memory wash over him. His towering cock threatened to topple if he didn’t stroke faster. He put his hand in a tub of Vaseline he kept open by his bed. With a little spit, it slicked up the surface enough for him to stroke hard without burning.

Up and down, his hands moved in rhythm as his swelling cock reached its full size, draining blood from Nick’s brain until he felt woozy. But he kept at it. The hunger in his balls was replaced with a tingling, that little tickle that reminds a guy why he’s jacking off in the first place. The sensations grew as his balls swelled and churned. He had to open his legs wider to accommodate the massive sac between them.

Nick didn’t have a free hand to tweak his nipple, but he realized that his pectoral muscles were so swollen he could reach his own nipple with his mouth. As he stroked himself harder, he chewed and nursed on the nipple, sending spasms of pleasure throughout his body. The harder he sucked, the stronger the pleasure. When he bit down hard, the jolt sent him past the point of no return. Like that moment when the roller coaster reaches the top of the hill and the chain stops pulling, he felt his lust ebb, grow, and accelerate. His hungry cock was going to erupt soon.

Nick released the nipple and saw his bulging arms struggling to hold up the massive weight of his cock. His biceps were always big, but now they were enormous. Watching them flex added to that building wave of orgasm that had crested the horizon.

“Oh shit, I’m so fucking hot!” Nick felt complete like every inch of his body was perfect. He had reached that summit, that point where he was finally complete, the ideal specimen of manhood. His gargantuan cock, his muscles, his handsome face, they were everything he’d strived for. And now he was about to have the finest orgasm of his life.

His mirrored closet door reflected his colossal cock and massive body as he stroked and wriggled on the bed.

He spoke to himself. “I wanna see you cum, bro. I wanna see you shoot that fucking huge load everywhere!”

And he did. What began as a tremor in his legs spread to his belly and waist, then up the shaft of his cock until it throbbed. Then a lava blast of hot sperm shot out of his balls, hitting the ceiling before raining down on Nick, soaking his bedspread and coating him in slime. Another blast, then another splattered around the room, soaking the mirror so he couldn’t see his full reflection anymore. A few more blasts, and he was spent.

Suddenly, Nick felt exhausted. He felt his cock stretching and twisting, but he was too tired to do anything about it. He drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, he awoke to find the surfer boy snuggled up in his armpit.

The boy wiped sleep out of his eyes. “Hey. That was fucking awesome.”

Nick was startled. “Wh-where did you come from?”

The kid shrugged. “The last thing I remember was trying to give you head. Then I met a little man who lives in your balls, and he gave me a blow job. It sounds like a dream but didn’t feel like one.”

Nick chuckled. “I think I’ve met that man before. Say, I’m hungry. Can I make you breakfast?”

The kid smiled. “I’ll be your breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Let’s do it again!”

Tom of Finland Art Fair October 8-9

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If you ever wanted to meet the man behind the pen name, you can find me at the Tom of Finland Art & Culture Festival on October 8-9. It’s at a warehouse on 1000 S. Santa Fe Avenue in Los Angeles. Saturday 11 am-7 pm and Sunday Noon-7 pm.

I’ll be signing and reading books at my little booth. If you come, feel free to introduce yourself as a fan or follower. I’d love to meet you.

New Novella – Little Shamus

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.”

Testing the Limits of Free Speech (Failed)

I tried writing an “Age Play” novella called Flight Plan. The premise was a young adult (18) looked much younger, and attracted a fellow who likes them young. It crossed an invisible line that triggers a knee-jerk reaction. I wrote about this in my previous blog post, but now I have the chops to prove it. My 16th book is banned, despite the fact that I ticked the Age-Play box before I published it. This was on a platform that allows quite a bit more leeway than that monster with a South American name and very North American puritan values.

It doesn’t matter that I spent hours creating these books, designing covers, plotting, and planning. It all goes up in a puff of smoke if that trigger is pulled.

Isn’t it Art? Left are my books. Right are the vintage pulps

Here’s the rub – I have seen heterosexual versions of the various banned books I wrote. If an eighteen year-old girl gets “knocked up by daddy,” then it’s within the limits of acceptable erotica. But if an eighteen year old boy gets pregnant by his father, the book, a series starter, comes under fire and is banished to the ether. If a young woman looks like a preteen, and is pursued by a hot guy, it’s fine. If a young man has that twelve-year-old body and shares it with a man, then it’s out the door.

This double standard in the First Amendment-defying world of book censorship is homophobia, plain and simple. I wrote a paperback book called Blue Collar Buds. It had none of the traditional themes that get banned (incest, age play). It was just good old fashioned gay smut. When I changed the cover by REMOVING an illustration, Amazon banned it.

Here’s what really gets me: These books are an art project. I’m writing them to re-create the smut of yore. I give them classic covers in the style of the books that I used to read as a teenager coming out and discovering what it means to be gay. But I’m an unknown, a would-be publisher relying on print-on-demand (POD) to realize my vision. Is there a POD service in Denmark? Grrrr!

We are living in strange times. Liberal values have gone so far to the left that now the very freedoms we once protected are being attacked because they might offend a more vanilla sensibility. We have to “protect” people from offensive speech. God forbid I write the word “fag” in a book, even though assholes called me that for a quarter century or more and now I need to use it in my art. Anything exploring the boundaries of good taste is no longer acceptable.

That jungle of a bookseller operates under a double standard. One book got banned because I had a drawing of a penis. And yet they print Tom of Finland’s work because it has achieved the status of an artwork.

The Most Dangerous Topic

In most societies, a group of people, scapegoats, are universally deemed non-persons. I don’t mean a group of people that get clumped into low status, like people without houses or people who have come to a country illegally. Most of us consider them whole people who face a lot of discrimination and isolation. They are still people. In Nazi Germany, there were non-people: Jewish People, Homosexuals, Romani, and Jehovah’s Witnesses, to name a few. Their non-personhood made their imprisonment and near-extermination possible.

Our society often treats criminals like non-people, although they still hold the possibility of redemption. However, there is a sub-group of criminals who are universally despised, dismissed, and treated as irredeemable pieces of filth. In the United States, a child molester is the most non-person in our midst. Terrorists, murderers, and even adult rapists are less reviled and, therefore, ‘redeemable.’ Only if you were treated as a god amongst men, like Michael Jackson, could you be exempt from losing your personhood altogether. You’ll never be a full member of society again, though.

Safety in Abstraction

With this in mind, I need to discuss a First Amendment issue that impedes my writing, both Peter’s Erotica and the Literary Fiction I write under my real name. Let me give you some background. I was molested so early in life it would be a crime to describe it under any circumstances. Writing is a form of therapy, and as a victim, I’m not allowed to share my thoughts or experiences with my readers. This was not a consensual act; it was a crime. Nonetheless, the molestation affected my future relationship with my body, my sexuality, and my desires. If I were to go into detail, describing what happened and/or how it still affects me, I would risk being reviled.

As is typical with early victims of abuse, it happened to me again when I was in grade school. My “Big Brother” (from a mentorship program for children of divorce) used to tickle-torture me. I hated it and resent him to this day. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t. The unspoken deal was that he would take me to the movies and buy me junk food in exchange for submitting to his cruel fetish. I fattened up on popcorn and Taco Bell until my mother found out and put an end to our sick relationship. I might get in trouble for telling you this because any victim describing their suffering might titillate a torturer.

I could never post any picture for this post; just an abstract illustration, something completely unrelated, a pattern. To post a picture of my younger self, the victim, would be an outrage and probably a crime.

Some forums allow the expression of sexuality from ages of questionable consent. Forum moderators will take those stories down in seconds if there is a complaint. And anything under an arbitrary age is strictly forbidden. Books that contain this topic are banned outright. The problem lies in the expression of desire. A young teenage boy might want sex with an older man, but as far as I know, it’s a crime to write about it because the criminal might enjoy reading about such children. And so those stories are treated like a narcotic. Possession of a story, or even a trace of it on your laptop, is a felony (I think). A dubious common sense dictates that describing a personal experience will influence the perpetrator to do bad things, especially if he sees any sign of consent from someone not legally permitted to give it. Victims must be silent. The shame of the abuse redoubles when it becomes a crime to describe it. At least, I think it’s a crime. I don’t dare search to find out. One public figure became a non-person for “researching” the subject.

When writing about the fictional persona Peter Schutes, I struggle to describe what it was like for him growing up with a sex organ so big that the act of writing about his young experience is definitely grounds for censorship and possibly a crime. His experience is a product of my imagination and, as such, is a reflection of me and my sexuality. I don’t have any desire to engage with a minor. I like guys in the “Daddy” category. But there are stories I can’t mention, describe, or tell.

I’m not a parent. I understand that parents want to protect their children. I also understand why there is a knee-jerk reaction to anything even remotely related to child molestation. I may be pilloried for writing this article if anyone were to read it. My readership on this blog is tiny. I’d hate to go viral and come under attack for discussing the specter of sexual abuse of a minor. But somebody has to say this.

This topic is so inflammatory that even the victims are forbidden from telling their stories. As a creative writer, it would be ten times worse were I to include any hint of underage desire in one of Peter Schutes’s erotic stories. If I want to sell a book, I must skip over childhood and start each love story during or after senior year in high school. Fiction, especially Erotic writing, is a field of landmines. I hope I didn’t just step on one.

Adventure On a Desert Island

My latest novella needed a title: I decided on Desert Island Daddies. It’s a hot adventure story in the style of those old pulp adventure novels where two men are pitted against nature but survive against all odds. It reminds me of that old radio show “Escape”. Here’s an unedited chapter from the book:

When Pinky woke up, Butch was already up and about. He’d taken off his clothes and hung them out to dry. The boa constrictor between his legs flopped from side to side, casting a shadow in the sand that made it look like a third leg.

“Wake up, sleepy head. Help me start a fire. And give me your clothes.”

Pinky reluctantly stripped off his linen pants and shirt, his socks, then his underwear. He put a hand over his crotch to hide his shame.

Butch said, “Ah-ah! You made a promise.” He put an impatient fist on his hip. Pinky took away his hand, revealing the tiny nub he hated so much.

“Oh fuck, you’re beautiful!” Butch’s meat grew a little longer, a little thicker, then began to lift from his knee.  “You’re giving me a damn boner!”

Seeing the huge cock was intoxicating. Pinky’s tiny penis doubled in size until it was over an inch. It throbbed in the sunlight. Butch fell to his knees and nursed on it. Nobody had ever touched him there. Pinky groaned in pleasure as Butch’s thick tongue roughly licked his sensitive penis.

Butch smiled. “I’ll bet nobody’s done that before. Am I right?”

“Shut up and keep doing it.”

Butch returned to nibbling and sucking on the little nub between Pinky’s legs. He rubbed the boy’s firm young buttocks and let his fat fingers slide between them, brushing the hole. Pinky had never known this kind of desire. He was not the one doing the sucking. He was being worshipped for his little penis and it felt great.

A warm sensation, one he’d only ever known alone, began to build in his tummy. With a start, he felt something heavy hit his upper thigh. It was Butch’s beast, throbbing upwards, defying gravity until at last it touched Pinky’s tiny balls. That was the finishing move.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna…” Pinky couldn’t finish his words. He held Butch’s head against his crotch. Despite his tiny balls, he blasted a big load of cum into the man’s mouth. Butch swallowed greedily until there was nothing more. He pulled away.

“That was my breakfast, now it’s time for yours.”

Pinky was a talented cocksucker, but he knew he couldn’t fit Butch in his mouth. He shook his head.

Butch insisted. “Just put your mouth over the end and I’ll give you a full meal. You don’t have to do anything.”

The man held his cock aloft with both hands, taking giant strokes up and down the incredible shaft. Pinky knelt and clamped on to the top of Butch’s cock, his lips stretched as far as they could. He tongued the piss slit, exploring the giant crevice, marveling how his own little dick would be lost inside such a cavern.

The cock tasted saltier than the boys at home. He realized it was the seawater from last night. He put his hands on the shaft. Even with all four of their hands stroking the monster, there was room for more. Pinky brushed the salt away, then began stroking in time with the big brute.

Butch was a lot older than the schoolboys that Pinky was used to. His large size didn’t help. He needed a lot of time and attention to reach the place where he even began dribbling the salty sweet drool that signaled an upcoming orgasm. After ten minutes of concerted effort, at least twice as long as he was used to, he tasted that signal that meant Butch was near completion.

“Oh, son, you’re so good at this.”

Pinky smiled to himself. He felt like he was doing a terrible job, so Butch’s words were encouraging. He ran his tongue inside the slit, savoring the tasty ooze that trickled there.

“Keep doing that.” Butch began to tremble. “I’m close.”

Pinky lapped at the syrupy brew that gushed from the massive tip of Butch’s cock. He’d always loved the taste of cum, especially the bit that leaks out before the big explosion. He loved when their legs trembled, as Butch’s were doing now. He also liked to put a finger near their asshole and slip it in if the recipient was willing. Butch seemed not to mind. His hole was surprisingly loose for a top man.

Butch saw the surprise on Pinky’s face. “With a cock like this, you gotta be willing to switch sides, you know? “

Pinky focused on the home stretch. He wiggled his finger until it touched the prostate.

Butch groaned. “Oh, shit, that’s gonna make me…” He wasn’t able to finish the sentence; a large blast of cum gurgled in his shaft and flowed upwards, shooting into Pinky’s mouth without warning.

“Sorry.”

Pinky just kept sucking, nursing the big head until it shot again. The second shot was bigger than the first. Butch watched Pinky swallow each load. “A swallower.”

Pinky’s mouth was full again but he managed to nod. As each blast weakened, Pinky sucked harder, like a baby at a dry teat. At last, the final tiny load released. Pinky cleaned the head with his tongue, catching any stray drops and gobbling them greedily.

Butch grunted. “Not bad. You must have practiced with the big boys.”

Pinky wiped his chin. “I’ve never seen anyone half as big as you.”

The grizzly old pilot grinned. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I’d be able to buy a house.”

“I would love a house right about now.” Pinky wiped the sweat from his brow. He wasn’t used to the blazing Southeast Asian sun and humidity. “I’m about to catch fire.”

Which MPREG Book Shall I Write Next?

I have several fragments – micro-stories that could become a full-fledged novel if there is interest.

The following fragments focus on male pregnancy. Peter’s male pregnancy is different from the modern style. He focused on anatomy and real possibilities for male birth. He did not have any aliens or tentacles. He wrote about tenderness but also conflict – against society, between partners, and internal doubts.

In the third trimester, it can be hellish.

If you see a fragment below that piques your interest, I invite you to contact me with the number you would love to see turned into a novel. Peter is just me, a writer hiding behind a fictional persona, so the possibilities are endless.

1. “I got you what?”

Cooper blushed. “Pregnant.”

Jack said, “Why sit around in your boxers? Shouldn’t you get rid of it?”

Cooper was hurt. “Your son is growing inside my dick. Look how big he’s gotten.”

Cooper hauled out the heavy monster. Jack’s jaw hit the floor.

2. “What’s the problem?”

Milo unzipped to show the doctor.

“Holy Christ! Nurse! Bring the Ultrasound.”

As he ran the cold metal over Milo’s swollen member, it moved like an alien was inside.

The doctor dropped the ultrasonic wand. “You’ve got a baby in there.”

3.      Anal birth soccer game:

      I.         Your teammates hold you down

     II.         The captain spits on your hole

   III. Your whole team helps the captain to push it inside you

   IV.         You have to hold it until the first goal is scored for your team

    V.         Bonus points for shitting it out on the Jumbotron

4.     Brad rubbed his bulging belly, pregnancy hormones raging. He was horny and had the room to himself. With one hand on his belly and the other down his shorts, he fantasized about all the huge cocks he could take after he gave birth. Three months seemed too long to wait.

5.     Cooper could barely walk. His cock was huge and misshapen because of the baby. The baby kicked; Cooper leaked milk. The second kick came moments later. It hurt so bad he had to hold his cock in his hands to rock the embryo to sleep. He wasn’t ready to be a father.

6.     Doug felt sick.

“Dad, my belly hurts!”

Bill shouldn’t have fucked his son. Now Doug was about to learn how men were born in the Cantu family. Bill watched, helpless, as his son went from chubby to fully pregnant in seconds. Buttons popped and flew. Doug cried in pain.

7.     How to Prepare for Anal Birth:

      I.         Stretch daily with massive anal sex

     II.         Have a colostomy as soon as possible

   III.         Avoid fiber

   IV.         Douche regularly.

    V.         Use government-issue birthing dildos to permanently widen the rectum and loosen the recto-sigmoid junction.”

8.     Lucas grabbed his favorite flannel shirt, forgetting that he was eight months pregnant. It wouldn’t button. He wished he knew who the father was. He needed to buy him Big and Tall clothing for his pregnant body. His nipples leaked milk as he put on a tight t-shirt instead.

9.     Milo held the Polaroid, doing his best to smile in the mirror. He wanted to sell these Polaroids for a lot of money. There’s creeps out there who would pay a fortune to see his massive pregnant dick. Milo was broke; he had to think of the baby’s future.

10. My water broke. Slim’s arms around my pregnant belly provided solid comfort. He was a cutthroat wolf on my first day when he impregnated me. Now he’s my rock, protector, and baby daddy. Tomorrow morning, after his early release, the wolves will circle again.

11. Now that I was in my third trimester, my body began to protest. My pecs were sore and swollen with milk. My nipples hurt. My belly was stretched too tight. I craved junk food but felt nauseous if I ate it. Still, I wouldn’t trade fatherhood and childbirth for anything.

12. Once the technology was there, science pushed it farther. It wasn’t enough that men could give birth; the overlords needed more subjects in less time. The gestation period went from nine months to less than a week. Soon, men were churning out babies in record time.

13. Sam practiced holding in his belly to hide the baby growing inside. If the guys on his team knew what he and his Daddy had done, they would run him out of town. It was no use. Holding in his belly only showed the outline of his baby brother growing inside him.

14. Waves of peristalsis pushed the baby to my anal canal. My wife squeezed my hand. I crowned. It wasn’t easy, but it was going to happen. I bore down to force the baby further along. My sphincter flew open, and the baby popped out like a salmon on a fishing boat.


15. Kimo was unprepared for the baby’s arrival. He had no money, no boyfriend, and he hadn’t had sex for weeks, so his hole was tight. If he was going to survive childbirth, he needed to practice. He started with regular anal beads, then graduated to king-sized.


16. My belly’s so big, I can’t get dressed. I’m naked, barefoot, and pregnant. Nine months ago, Tyler left his demon seed in my ass and vanished in the wind. My baby will only ever know one of his fathers – me. I would go to a hospital, but they’ll only lock me away.


17. My muscles softened when I got pregnant. Tyler left his demon seed in my ass months ago and vanished in the wind. My baby will only ever know one of his fathers – me. I would go to a hospital, but they’d only lock me away. Pregnancy isn’t for pussies.


18. Sitting upright, I couldn’t see my cock because my swollen belly was in the way. The cock felt shorter – probably the fat pad on my pubic bone was to blame. Pregnancy weight gain is no joke. I shot cum between my ankles on the floor.


19. The bodybuilder grimaced, forcing the billiard balls out of his muscle butt one at a time. The doctor tugged at Paul’s sleeve.

“You see that? Anal birth is going to feel so much worse.”

Paul’s mouth went dry. The baby kicked. What had he gotten himself into?

20. I felt his warm jizz against my sigmoid colon. Then I felt a strange, tingling sensation. I looked at the demon, mouth open, gaping like a fish to fight the terrible pain from his huge cock. Was his sperm so strong that I could feel it swimming inside me?

“What’s happening to me?”

He smiled, “You’re carrying my child now.”

Violating an AI

With my ChatGPT prompt, “Tell me a story about a lumberjack with a very large penis,” I got a content violation warning, but I also got a story. A surprisingly scary-good fairy tale with a moral worthy of a Peter Schutes novel. Other than adding a title, I have made no changes. I’m thinking I may need to look for a new job. Oh wait, I don’t think it can write about mind-blowing gay sex. Or can it? I also prompted Wombo Dream to make a woodcut of “Two figures: A winged fairy pointing magic wand at the leg of a very muscular, shirtless lumberjack” I asked for the lumberjack to be hiding a softball in his underwear, but that just didn’t work.

BIG JACK THE LUMBERJACK

Once upon a time, in a small village nestled deep within a dense forest, there lived a lumberjack named Jack. Jack was renowned for his exceptional skills in felling trees, but there was something else that set him apart from his fellow lumberjacks—the size of his penis. It was said to be of truly remarkable proportions, and the tales of its legendary grandeur had spread far and wide.

Now, despite his extraordinary endowment, Jack was a humble and hardworking man. He loved his job and took great pride in his ability to provide for the village by supplying them with firewood and timber. Jack’s fame, however, often preceded him, and curious onlookers would occasionally come to the forest just to catch a glimpse of the lumberjack with the legendary appendage.

One day, while Jack was going about his usual routine, he encountered a group of mischievous forest creatures. They were known as the Spritelings, small mystical beings who possessed the ability to grant wishes. The Spritelings were mischievous but generally kind-hearted, and they were fascinated by Jack’s reputation.

As Jack toiled away, he suddenly heard a chorus of tiny voices calling out to him. “Oh, mighty lumberjack!” the Spritelings exclaimed. “We have heard tales of your remarkable gift, and we wish to see it for ourselves.”

AI doesn’t always get the images right, especially when the interface has nudity filters

Surprised but amused by their request, Jack decided to oblige. He unzipped his trousers, and to the Spritelings’ astonishment, his colossal member was exposed. The Spritelings gasped in awe, but they were also struck with a mischievous idea.

“Dear Jack,” they said, “we shall grant you a wish. You may choose to keep your extraordinary attribute, or we can take away its exceptional size and bless you with an extraordinary talent instead.”

Jack pondered for a moment, realizing that his reputation sometimes overshadowed his true skills as a lumberjack. He decided to accept the Spritelings’ offer and asked them to bestow upon him an extraordinary talent that would make him even more revered in his trade.

And so, the Spritelings waved their tiny hands and chanted a magical incantation. In an instant, Jack’s physique transformed. His once towering member diminished to a more modest size, but in its place, a newfound skill emerged—unmatched precision and efficiency in his tree-cutting abilities.

Word of Jack’s incredible talent quickly spread throughout the village. People marveled at how effortlessly he felled trees, with each swing of his axe landing with pinpoint accuracy. Jack became known as the greatest lumberjack in the land, not for the size of his appendage, but for his remarkable skill and unmatched craftsmanship.

From that day forward, Jack continued to work diligently in the forest, providing for the village and earning the respect of his peers. And though the stories of his legendary endowment eventually faded away, the tale of the humble lumberjack with an extraordinary talent lived on, reminding everyone that true greatness lies not in physical attributes but in the dedication, skill, and passion one brings to their craft.

Asking the AI to produce a fireman eating a giant corn dog had much better results

The Spotter

A man with a huge cock pumped full of silicone shows off his muscles

Garret peeled off the shorts, revealing a cock the size of two coffee cans. It was misshapen, but it was a gigantic dick. Bryan grew weak in the knees looking at it.

Bryan was a gym bunny. He spent most days there, and his social life revolved around the people he met there. He was of average height and weight and was average everywhere except between his legs. There he was below average, which was a source of anxiety for him. His dick wasn’t tiny; it was short and thin. He was uncircumcised, adding to his fears of being different down there. In his social circle, most of the guys were cut. The only person who really cared about Bryan’s dick size was Bryan himself.

What began as a simple comparison evolved into an obsession. Bryan’s sexuality blossomed out of his obsession with size. He avoided guys with little dicks, and started lusting after the guys in the locker room with huge cocks. He was very fit and caught the eye of many men, some who identified as straight and others who were as gay as Bryan was becoming.

One day, the holy grail walked into the locker room. Garret was a new member with huge muscles and a massive bulge in his workout shorts. It was so big it defied explanation. Bryan wondered if the guy had elephantiasis or some other disorder that caused him to swell up. He didn’t want to be obvious, but his eyes kept darting toward Garret’s crotch as they worked out beside each other.

Garret smiled at Bryan. “Do you mind spotting me?”

Bryan stood over Garret, catching the weight and gently assisting when Garret asked for his help. The whole time, he stared hungrily at Garret’s crotch. The humongous blob of flesh wiggled inside its cloth prison with each lift. Garret caught Bryan staring.

“You like it?” Garret asked.

Bryan nodded. “I want to see it.”

“Let’s shower.” The tall, confident man waltzed into the locker room. The two men took shower stalls across from each other. Garret peeled off the shorts, revealing a cock the size of two coffee cans. It was a bit misshapen, but it was a gigantic dick. Bryan grew weak in the knees looking at it.

Garret smiled. “It’s too big for fucking, but I love it when guys worship it.” He stepped into the shower and began soaping up the gigantic package. 

“Come on, Bry, let’s see what you got.”

Bryan was deeply ashamed of his size. He was maybe four inches hard and two inches soft. When he removed his sweats, Garret whistled. “Damn, I’m sorry, buddy.”

Bryan turned a dark shade of crimson. “It’s pathetic,” he said.

Garret shook his head. “I used to be smaller. You don’t have to be that small if you don’t want to.”

Bryan couldn’t believe his ears. “What do you mean?”

Garret shrugged. “This is silicone. I got it done in Tijuana. You could too.”

A whole world opened up for Bryan in that instant. He could be bigger!

Garret said, “Why don’t you come over to my apartment and spend some time up close with it? I need to get off, and you’re fucking sexy as hell.”

“You mean you don’t care about my dick?”

Garret shook his head. “I just need you to hold mine, maybe kiss it a little.”

Bryan was rock-hard. His little dick pumped in the air. Garret smiled. “I knew you were the right type. It’s hard to find guys who aren’t put off by me.”

“No way,” the smaller man said, “I can’t fucking believe my eyes. It’s beautiful.”

The two men toweled off together, dressed, and headed to Garret’s place.

It was a shabby apartment near the gym. Garret wasn’t a great housekeeper. Most of the surfaces had empty protein shake bottles and dirty dishes. He didn’t bother to clean up. He grabbed Bryan’s face and kissed him. As Garret explored Bryan’s mouth with his tongue, he pressed his waist into the smaller man. Bryan started to drool precum in his sweatpants. The excitement of so much dick pressed up against him was nearly enough to make him come right there and then.

Garret grabbed Bryan’s hand and placed it on the bulge. “Go on, rub it.”

Bryan didn’t need encouragement. He explored every square inch of the massive lump of meat. His hands reached under and cupped the tip. It must have weighed ten pounds.

“Pull my pants down. Go ahead.”

Bryan struggled to get the shorts off. The waistband got hung up on the fat meat. When it finally sprung free, Bryan knelt before the God-like cock. He understood what Garret had meant by “worship.” It was a deity of flesh. The impossibly heavy cock began to swell and lift slightly off the man’s balls.

Garret took command. “I want you to bury your face in it and tongue my dick.”

Bryan could smell the gym soap on the sides of the massive tunnel. He obeyed. His face couldn’t fit in the large opening, but his tongue did. He tasted the tip of the cock, drooling precum, and licked it.

“Oh, yeah, just like that.” Garret moaned softly, holding Bryan’s head against the opening. Bryan’s cock obsession was reaching its apex. He was in heaven. Buried in its tunnel of flesh, the head was churning out more precum.

Garret pulled Bryan’s face away from his giant cock and said, “Slow down. I’m close. I want to do more with you.”

He pulled Bryan to his feet and lowered his sweats. Brian’s small cock was rigid and throbbing. Droplets of precum emerged and dripped down his shaft.

Bryan said, “What do you want me to do?”

“This.” Garret took hold of Bryan’s cock and guided it to the fleshy opening of his enormous cock. He put a hand around Bryan’s waist and pulled him close. Brian’s little cock slipped inside Garret’s, bumping against the buried cockhead. The silicone had caused the foreskin to thicken, which narrowed the opening. Bryan was engulfed by the soft cock-pussy. It gripped him slightly so that as he slid back and forth, fucking Garret’s huge dick, he felt each stroke on his shaft and head. It was like a very loose asshole or vagina.

Garret let out a loud breath. “Fuck that’s good. Keep going all the way. Tap the head.”

Bryan see-sawed in and out, hitting the tip of Garret’s cock each time he went deep. Both men were building toward orgasm.

Garret shuddered. “Oh fuck, dude, you’re gonna make me come.”

Bryan was so turned on by the huge dick he was fucking that he forgot to respond. He moaned and grunted, but all language had left him. He shook his head suddenly as if trying to get a fly to leave him alone.

Garret said, “You like my cock-pussy, don’t you, boy?”

Bryan nodded. He hadn’t even taken a moment to look at Garret’s incredible body. Two dark saucer-sized nipples covered his enormous pecs. He reached up and touched one. The teat was thick and fleshy. Bryan rolled it between his fingers.

“Oh fuck, man, you’re gonna make me cum!” Garret shook with imminent orgasm. When Bryan squeezed the teat hard, Garret let loose. “Aw, man! Here it comes!”

With Bryan lodged inside the opening, a white geyser erupted past his cock, spraying both men with Garret’s cum. Beads of sweat formed on Garret’s taut skin. Bryan tasted it. If the alpha male could be made into a soft drink, it would taste like Garret.

The sweat was the catalyst for Bryan’s orgasm. “Mmmm!” With a loud moan, Bryan shot his load into the opening. The cum blew back in a white spray, coating both men once more in manly essence.

Garret said, “I’ve been looking for a smaller one like yours. It’s the perfect size.”

For the first time in his life, Bryan felt proud of his little cock. He said, “If I get silicone like you, I won’t fit anymore.”

Garret gave a wicked grin. “Then I won’t tell you my doctor’s name.”

Peter Schutes Radio – A smutty good time

The 20th century author with a colossally warped and perverted penile perspective has taken up an entirely 21st century pursuit: Podcasting. Penises on Parade. Pricks for Kicks. Plop down your meat and pick up the podcast that will make your ears sting.

Peter Schutes’s books lend themselves perfectly to bedtime stories. The literary mind of the author leaps off the page and into your ears. Who could ask for a better companion to your hand while getting in touch with your inner power bottom? Become the fantasy.

Peter on Apple
Peter on Spotify
Peter on Overcast

Peter Schutes Radio – Vol 1 EPS 1 – Daddy’s Boy Is All Knocked Up

This is the first in a series of audio adaptations of Peter Schutes’ Seven Book Series “Daddy’s Boy” sometimes known as “Appalachian Bred”. This early MPREG series introduces the fictitious Monachee Tribe. The Bunch family are a particularly fertile bunch of guys whose fathers make babies with their sons. It’s raunchy, steamy, transgressive, and HOT! The entire series is available now for free!

Click Here to Visit Peter Schutes Radio Now!

Top 11 Peter Schutes Tropes

Peter has written tens of thousands of pages of raw smutty literature. Within those pages are some recurring themes and scenarios. Here, are the 11 most common Peter Schutes tropes.

We chose 11 in honor of the unicorn of dick size – 11 inches.

The Unicorn

11. Oops, I got pregnant! In addition to the very common Monachee stories (#2 below), the Male Pregnancy theme is explored in a few contexts. In The Butt Baby, a normal guy gets pregnant from his old high school fuck buddy. In The Expectant Member, through an entirely plausible series of events, a man conceives a baby in his penis, while simultaneously impregnating a Female to Male (FTM) boyfriend. In The Longshoremen, a Kindle Vella story, Ralph is a two-spirit (hermaphrodite) man. Presenting as male, he has both sets of genitalia, and gets pregnant not once but twice, despite having been told he couldn’t conceive.

10. Size, any size, is extremely important in any Peter Schutes novel. Big, small, huge, minuscule, monstrous – nearly every size is extreme. The extreme differences in size are equally fascinating as the men whose manhoods match up. A few characters suffer from penile bigorexia – they’re very big, but not big enough.

9. Fish Out of Water is the theme of many of Peter’s stories. A delicate boy joins the Greek Army in Hercules and Lippos. A cherubic youth rides the rails with vagabonds in Hobo Honey. An innocent young man lands in a rural sheriff’s jail in The Anaconda Copper. In all these stories, the theme is propped up by a masculine protector intervening for the boys’ well-being.

8. Peter always chose macho settings for his novels. The butcher the better. Cops, Sheriffs, Soldiers, Lumberjacks, Bodybuilders, Construction Workers…he created a veritable Village People of hypermasculine characters.

7. Public sex is the secret sauce in many Peter Schutes stories. Miles High sees a porn star with a huge cock fucking tiny Jeff in the airplane bathroom. Peter Schutes’ own story is rife with public venues. His scenes in The Autobiography of Peter Schutes, set in the basement of Filene’s Department Store, rival anything Jean Genet produced.

6. Many Peter Schutes books explore gay venues before Stonewall. Whether it’s the seedy waterfront bars of Fortaleza in The Able Seaman, a bath house in Peru in Confessions of a Rodeo Clown, or the speakeasies of New Orleans in Panama Heat, Peter describes a strange mixture of repression and freedom. The bars and baths are often illegal, but once inside, all rules are cast aside in favor of bold, unabashed sex.

5. A half dozen Peter Schutes novels involve a well hung man meeting and/or falling in love with a man in possession of a gigantic monster cock. In Hercules and Lippos, Hercules is well hung; Lippos’s cock drags on the ground. Buck is too big for most, Stack is too big for everyone.

4. Travel and escape figure large in Peter’s novels. Young men set sail or fly to distant lands, whether it’s a Mexican Priest heading to the Vatican in Cloistered, a high school graduate enlisting in the Merchant Marines in The Able Seaman, or an entitled heir traveling to work on the Panama Canal in Panama Heat. In every way, the travel leaves the men changed forever.

3. A common variant in Peter’s novels is the horse hung loner who finds another monster-hung man. Together, they make sweet love. This is a sub-theme in the Big, Bigger, Biggest series on Amazon. Hobo Honey is a classic example of this.

2. Peter wrote an awful lot of Male Pregnancy (MPREG) story lines. The majority involve the Monachee, hill people in Appalachia who possess gigantic penises and the ability to conceive anally. They tend to keep it in the family, so incest zig-zags across the theme as well. These include Daddy’s Boy aka Appalachian Bred, and the Vella story The Orchardman.

1. The king of all Peter Schutes story lines: the naive, puerile young man with a tiny penis meets a brooding older man with a penis so huge, it defies logic. Despite all odds, the little guy learns to take the big guy. Of course this leads to love. These books are classified on Amazon as The Big and The Small of It.

Visit Peter’s Author Page on Smashwords

Poolside Plantings

Los Angeles was 100 miles away, but it might as well have been 10,000 miles. I was finally relaxed. Someone in the hot tub commented that I had a nice smile. I don’t think I’d smiled for years.

After endless years on contract at MGM, I was finally able to take a vacation. The contract expired. I had saved enough to live for a few years if I chose not to work again. This trip to Palm Springs was quite literally what the doctor ordered. My blood pressure was through the roof. I was starved of vitamin D. Basking in the sunshine in my speedo I could feel my skin drinking in the light. That’s when I saw Bailey.

The clothing-optional resort catered only to men. The owner was queer, as were all his clientele. Nobody was required to wear clothing. This meant that the employees of the resort had to be comfortable working around a bunch of naked gay men. Bailey was the new groundskeeper. He was so good looking, he had to dress ugly on purpose. He as over six feet tall, with dirty blonde hair. He wore coke bottle glasses and a thick mustache, hiding his handsome face. Every time he moved, his muscles threatened to burst through the fabric of his clothes. I was surrounded by a crowd of mostly naked men, but all I saw was Bailey, bending to pick up a pot of geraniums. Even from behind, I could see the outline of his cock running down the inside of the left leg of his jeans.

I’m a bottom by design, not by choice. My fat cock looks good in a swimsuit. It attracts a lot of curious men, anxious to take a ride. Once it comes out of the swimsuit and swells to full size, they walk away. Unless they’re very experienced, they know they can’t do a thing. If I’m lucky, they’re versatile, and I get a good ass fucking. In Los Angeles, they’re usually 100% bottom with zero interest in giving me the pleasure they’d hoped to reap from me.

Bailey didn’t seem to notice my huge bulge. He kept at his job, patiently planting pansies and geraniums in terra cotta pots. I had to walk past him to get to my room, and I needed to pee. With my fat cock crammed into speedos, I wiggled and walked to my room. I nodded at Bailey and said, “Hi.”

Bailey looked up, pushed his thick glasses to his forehead, and smiled. “Hey man.” His voice was deep. It made me shiver.

He went back to planting. I took a piss in the room and stuffed everything back carefully, to hide as much as I could. I know very little about gardening, but I do know that geraniums are perennials in Los Angeles. Palm Springs has different weather. He was right outside my door, potting geraniums.

“I thought geraniums were perennials.”

Bailey looked up with a serious expression. “Not in the Springs. By August these’ll be crispy.” He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Bailey.” I took his meaty palm in mine. It was cracked and rough.

“Peter.”

We stood silently for what felt like an eternity but was most likely about ten seconds. Bailey licked his lips.

“We ain’t allowed in the guest’s rooms.”

“Are we allowed in yours?”

When he was done planting for the day, Bailey stowed away the wheelbarrow and tools. I was lying by the pool, my fat, throbbing meat wrapped in spandex. I saw silent whispers between guests, some of whom stared unabashedly at my hard-on. Every time Bailey bent to put away a tool I got harder. I didn’t know what would happen between us, but I knew I was going to like it. Bailey closed up the garden shed and padlocked it.

He whispered. “I’m in 46. Wait five minutes.” Bailey walked with a bit of a limp. I could see his massive cock trapped in his jeans. I suppose the rest of the resort could see it too. It was impossible to miss, just like mine.

Before I could knock, Bailey whisked me inside. He planted his lips on mine, his tongue gently exploring my mouth. I pushed back, tasting his toffee-scented breath. I put a hand on his inner thigh, rubbing the long log of flesh that throbbed and strained against the denim. He reciprocated, caressing my cock through the strained fabric of my swimsuit until it stuck out like a tent pole. It was thick as a beer can.

Bailey knelt and freed my fatty from its prison. His bing hands held it. The fingers couldn’t touch. He buried his lips in my foreskin and tongued the tip. I’m a shower and a grower. It got bigger. His eyes widened. I waited for the familiar rejection.

“You’re like me!” He stood. After getting the waist past his protruding ass, he lowered his jeans to his knees to free the monster. It lifted to a 90-degree angle, poking my belly button. His cock was longer than mine, but it was the same size around, like two soup cans stacked on each other. Bailey held me close. My cock went between his legs, while his pressed to his chest, rising past the nipple line. I only needed to lower my head to lick the tip. He shivered.

I said, “Bailey, I’ve never been with someone as big as you. I’m not sure I can take it.”

He grinned. “Me neither.” I wasn’t sure if he meant he didn’t know if he could take me or if I could take him. Turned out it was both.

Bailey said, “Pete, you wanna try fucking me?” I hadn’t fucked anyone since high school. I was just too big. Yes, I wanted to try fucking him. But I knew it was hopeless. Still, I nodded.

“I gotta prepare.” He went to the bathroom. The door was open; I saw him in the mirror. He douched, then he took some diet pills out of the cabinet and crushed them with a glass. He caught my eye in the mirror.

“You want some? It makes it easier.” He snorted some with a short straw. I took the straw and inhaled the bitter powder. At first I felt nothing. Then I heard a ringing in my ears. My cock got so hard I thought it would explode.

Bailey climbed up on the bed, wriggling his muscled ass. I licked the musky hole. The scent drove me wild. I lapped and sucked and licked, forcing my tongue deeper into his hole. It was surprisingly loose. His cock hung down like an udder. I milked it while I sucked, stretching his balls until the tip of his cock leaked pre-cum. I caught the pre-cum on my tongue and licked his hole, tasting the salty dribble as it worked its way into his hole.

Bailey moaned. “Oh, Peter. Fuck me. Fuck me.” He handed me a jar of Albolene. I slicked up my cock with the grease and spit on it. I spit in my greasy hand a few times and wiped Bailey’s hole with the mixture.

“You ready?”

He nodded. He picked up a little glass vial and popped it, inhaling the fumes. He handed it to me. I inhaled, and my whole world throbbed. I knelt over Bailey, who lay prostrate on his mattress. I lined my cock head up with his hole. Letting gravity do some of the work, I pushed until the very tip entered the warm hole. Bailey popped another vial.

“Quick! Now!”

I watched my cock head as his hole swallowed it up. I could swear he was pulling me inside him. Once the head was in, the rest of the fuck was a straight shot. My hips pressed against his round buttocks. I was inside a man for the first time in years. I nearly cried.

I was so surprised and excited, I wasn’t able to hold back for very long. Twenty or thirty good strokes and I shot my load up inside him. I pulled out my dripping cock, wiping the excess cum on his backside.

Bailey rolled over and smiled. “Your turn.”

I didn’t think I could take it. I’d been fucked three ways to Sunday but never by a man as big and thick as Bailey. He used greasy fingers to stretch my hole. I felt him press against my prostate and jumped. He fingered me there again and again, watching me thrash with ecstasy.

As much as it took me to grease up my own pole, it was nothing to the amount of Albolene that Bailey needed to lube up his. He spit over and over, polishing his huge cock until it shined. He flipped me onto my back, holding my legs on his shoulders, and handed me another glass ampoule.

I popped the glass, and just as I began inhaling, I felt blinding pain in my nether regions. The poppers made my muscles relax, but they didn’t take away the pain. Bailey forced himself halfway in, until his cock rammed against the end of my rectum. He leaned over and kissed me. He pushed hard as he lifted my left side close to him. Suddenly, his cock popped through an opening I knew well. He was in my colon now. He held the poppers to my nose and pushed again. With a loud smack, his hips hit my butt.

I recognized the tears of joy in his eyes. He probably hadn’t been inside anyone either. I lifted my head, watching in fascination as the huge cock slid in and out of me. Bailey’s rhythm became a locomotive, speeding up with each stroke until he was a jackhammer.

“Oh fuck! Jesus Christ! Fucking fuck!” My eyes rolled into my head. I couldn’t see, only feel. It was terrible pain mixed with a pleasure so sublime, it was worth any amount of pain. I felt completely filled with flesh on the in-stroke, and terribly empty on the out-stroke. Over and over he pounded me until I lost the power of speech. I moaned softly. Bailey kissed me, holding my shoulders against the bed so he could fuck even harder.

“I’m gonna plant my seed in you.” It was funny, coming from a gardener. I nodded weakly.

He threw his head back and gave a quiet shout. I felt a warm flood fill my insides. As Bailey fucked, filling my lower digestive tract, there was nowhere for the cum to go. It shot past his cock, out of my hole, staining the bed. He collapsed on top of me. I held his muscular ass, marveling how it had accepted my fat cock just minutes earlier. Next it was the powerhouse that drove his violent thrusts.

The diet pills were doing their job. I was rock hard, throbbing against Bailey’s belly button. He winked.

“Something’s up, eh?”

I nodded.

“I think we’ll have a whole garden planted by the end of the night.” He was right.

Under the Boardwalk

Cleve was built for fucking

This scene is from a novel-in-progress set at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, and also underneath it. Harry, a smooth young man with a very small penis envies guys with hairy bodies and big cocks. When he meets Cleve, a super-hung sex machine, Harry learns his mouth and his ass are vital sex organs that many men want!

* * *

Since he was old enough to stand, Harry’s favorite place on Earth was the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. Every summer, he and his parents stayed at a motel near the beach called the Sandpiper Inn. He heard the sound of the rollercoaster roaring long past his bedtime. The room was lit by the flashing lights and neon glow of the amusement park. Despite many troubles and unhappy times, the weekend at the beach was always a sanctuary for Harry. It was something he could rely on for most of his childhood.

When Harry applied to UC Berkeley, he was deferred to UC Santa Cruz. His mother and father didn’t have a lot of extra money, so he was going to have to work. Like a fool, he chose to work on the boardwalk, thinking it would be the most fun anyone could have. He found out quickly that visiting an amusement park is very different from working there. His eyes were opened to the terrible people of the world who lived to make minimum wage employees suffer. It was a rude awakening.

Even though he was nearly a man, Harry still had the skin of a child. Despite his name, he was hairless and smooth. He looked at envy at the boys around him whose chest hair had sprouted. He also had determined that he was less than gifted in between his legs. His hairless pubic mound was topped by a thumb-sized penis that hardened but never really grew.

Working at the boardwalk, you had to leave your uniform in your designated locker each night. This meant changing out of his civilian jeans and t-shirt at the start of the shift and changing back at the end. Harry wore boxer shorts to keep the mystery of his tiny penis from being revealed.

Many of the guys liked to shower before the shift. Harry wished he had the courage to join them, but he was too ashamed of his hairless body and tiny penis. To make matters worse, ever since puberty he had stopped thinking about girls and all his fantasies were centered around hairy men.

Lost in one such fantasy, he was startled out of his reverie by a colossal hunk of a security guard.

“Oh, sorry bro. My locker’s right next to yours. Do you mind?”

Harry shook his head and looked at the floor. The security guard stuck out a hand.

“Name’s Cleve.”

“Harry.”

Cleve guffawed. “Not really living up to your name, eh?” Cleve thwacked a meaty paw on Harry’s chest.

Harry looked up at his tormentor. The security guard wore thick horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was cut military style. His jaw was square, and his arms were like long, furry balloons with bulging biceps. A thick thatch of chest hair sprouted out of the collar of his t-shirt. Harry swallowed.

Cleve stammered. “I mean, sorry man if that was out of line.”

Harry smiled. “It’s no problem. I’m probably too sensitive about it.”

Cleve grinned. “You hitting the showers?” As he asked, he stripped off his jeans and t-shirt, revealing his gloriously furry muscular form. Cleve hitched his thumbs in the waistband of his jockey shorts and peeled them off, revealing a powerful set of glutes and a monster-sized dick.

Harry said, “S-sure. Yeah.” He let his boxers drop, waiting for more humiliation. 

Instead, Cleve leaned in. “God damn, I like the little ones.” With that, he threw a towel over his shoulder and strutted to the showers, his massive dong swinging from thigh to thigh. Harry wrapped his towel around his waist and scampered after him.

They were the only two in the showers. Cleve waited for Harry to pick a shower head, then took the one right next to him.

“Do you like to fuck?” Cleve didn’t pull any punches.

Harry blushed. “I think so, yeah.”

Cleve said, “Oh my god, are you a virgin?”

Harry turned a darker shade of crimson.

“No, no, don’t sweat it dude. I’m an expert. Breaking in virgins is my favorite.”

Harry was done being ashamed. “With that big thing?”

Cleve wasn’t bothered. “Yeah. I’m like the John Bonham of ass fucking. It’s a gift.”

Harry was hard as a rock. Cleve reached across and rubbed Harry’s glorified clit. “Oh, I’ll bet you come like a sprinkler.”

It was true. Harry’s bedroom walls at home needed regular cleaning. His dorm room was a double, so he rarely got a chance to get off.

Cleve asked, “Do you live nearby?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m up at the college.”

Cleve said, “A banana slug. Nice. I live in Aptos. With my folks.”

Harry looked at the bodybuilder who had to be almost thirty. “Do you like living at home?”

Cleve laughed. “Hell no! But this shit job doesn’t pay enough for an apartment. I’m saving up.”

Harry looked between Cleve’s legs. The man’s cock was nearly double the size now, and standing at a 45 degree angle. It was too heavy to stand tall.

A few more people came in. Harry turned away, but Cleve just stood there, grinning, while the other guys checked out his semi. Nobody in there could hold a candle to Cleve.

“Come on, Harry, our shift doesn’t start for another twenty minutes. Let me show you something.”

Wrapped in his towel Cleve led Harry to a stairwell going into the dark.

“What is this place?”

Cleve smiled. “Under the Boardwalk.”

The dark cave at the bottom of the stairs smelled of body fluids and ass sweat. Cleve held up a bottle of baby oil.

“I keep this down here for just such an emergency.” He knelt, putting his mustache on Harry’s virgin ass. His tongue darted in and out of the tight pink hole. Harry couldn’t believe how good it felt.

“Oh, shit.”

Cleve didn’t say anything; he just kept slobbering and kissing the hole until it was slippery. They lay flat in a sixty-nine, Cleve underneath Harry, licking his asshole. Harry took the first couple of inches of Cleve’s thick cock in his mouth. When Cleve pushed deeper, Harry coughed. The slick saliva coated Cleve’s cock, making it slippery. It was easier and easier for Cleve to push his way past Harry’s tonsils. And each time Harry gagged, the cock got more and more slippery.

Cleve coated Harry’s ass in baby oil and used the rest to lubricate his cock. With his powerful arms, he came to a sitting position, and held Harry dangling just above his cock. Harry steadied himself by holding on to Cleve’s massive shoulders.

In a gentle motion, Cleve lowered Harry down onto the throbbing head of his cock. Harry felt the tip go in. It didn’t hurt even a little, so he breathed a sigh of relief. Then Harry lowered him another inch. Suddenly, Harry’s ass was on fire. But just as quickly, Cleve lifted him off.

“It gets better, I promise.” He thrust upward, forcing his head past the sphincter. There was a loud pop as Harry’s shitter closed around the thin space below the corona.

Cleve held the boy. “Are you good?”

Harry nodded. “Is it in?”

Cleve said, “A little bit.” At the same time, he lowered Harry downward, stopping only when the fat head hit the bottom of Harry’s rectum.

“Ooooowww!” Harry tried to stand up, but Cleve’s powerful arms held him in place.

“Just count backwards from ten. Out loud. Let me hear you.”

Harry struggled, but he started counting. By the time he reached four, it didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt good.

Cleve said, “Okay, just one more thing.” He tilted Harry to the left, and thrust upwards. With another loud pop, Cleve forced his way into Harry’s sigmoid colon.

Harry cried, but the pain subsided quickly. Now he was completely filled with Cleve’s giant cock.

In a movement out of Olympic wrestling, Cleve whirled Harry around so he was on all fours doggy style. Then the fucking started.

Cleve’s fat cock pressed up against the prostate gland. Harry’s little penis drooled sticky precum all over the filthy, sandy floor under the boardwalk. Cleve cupped his hand like he was drinking from a mountain stream.

“Sweet boy cum. Makes me fucking horny!” He picked up the pace of the fucking, holding Harry around the hips to keep him from flying forward.

Harry had attained nirvana. He groaned softly, taking tiny gulps of air to keep from passing out from the pleasure. Each time Cleve pounded in, Harry felt filled to the totality of his being. On each out stroke, it was a sense of relief like when taking a massive shit. The strokes grew longer and longer, until pretty soon the bodybuilder could pull all the way out before plunging easily back in through the loose hole that had once been Harry’s anus. In those moments, Harry felt cool ocean air blowing through the gap.

“You won’t hear your farts for a month, but it’ll be worth it.”

Something about the cockiness with which Cleve said it made Harry shoot a load. He shot his wad on the ground so hard, it splattered onto Cleve’s balls and knees.

“Oh fuck yeah, kid. That’s so fucking hot.” Harry felt Cleve fondle his little bits, before slurping the juice from his hand. The action was so depraved and sexy, it made Harry hard again.

Cleve slapped his ass once, twice, three times. “You like it, don’t you Harry?”

Harry was well beyond the use of words, so he just moaned appreciatively.

“Yeah. I’m gonna fuck your little ass again and again. You won’t walk right.”

Again, the dirty talk made Harry come. Again, Cleve slurped it up in his hand.

“You come like a bitch. I’m giving you multiple orgasms, right?”

Harry nodded. Cleve started to take smaller strokes.

“Oh fuck, man, I’m close.”

“Come inside me.” Harry wanted the man’s cum deep inside his guts.

Cleve said, “Okay, hang on.” He grabbed Harry’s hair and pulled his head back. “You like that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cleve let go of the hair and grabbed the boy by the hands, pulling him close so he could fuck with abandon. The popping sound grew louder as Cleve’s fat head poked past the rectum over and over, harder and harder.

“Oh shit, Harry. I’m gonna fucking come. I’m gonna fucking come. I’m gonna…”

Harry felt a warm tide flowing deep inside him. Cleve made animal grunts. He let go of the boy’s arms, and collapsed on top of him, gyrating his hips to plant his seed as deep as possible. Harry felt Cleve’s hot breath on his neck. They stayed joined dick to ass for a few minutes until Harry couldn’t keep him inside any longer. In a long, slithering motion, Cleve’s soft cock snaked its way out of his insides, landing on the floor with a loud thwack. A small waterfall of cum gushed out of the gaping hole. Cleve licked the sticky hole until it snapped shut.

Harry turned to look at the man who took his virginity. He traced circles around the hairy nipples. Cleve took one hand and put it on his square jaw. They kissed. Harry tasted cum on Cleve’s breath.

Harry asked, “What’s next?”

Cleve laughed. “Show up early tomorrow, and you’ll find out.”

Hotshot – Free erotic ebook preview

Hotshot – Hot Gay Erotica Excerpt

From Peter: the following is the raw, unedited first chapter of an in-progress hot sexy novel about truckers. Although this is only one chapter, I’ve already written a dozen chapters and will probably wrap it up around twenty.

It will be interesting for anyone wanting to learn how to write an erotic story. You may find typographical errors, grammatical mistakes, or run-on sentences. There are many ways to write, but my preferred method is to do lots of research up front, then write through without stopping to make a lot of corrections. I do stop to conduct further research as needed. Once the story is told (and story is the most important piece), it can be edited. When editing, you make many different “passes” – one is for story structure and missing details, one is a pass to make the hot and sexy story hotter and sexier, one is for reducing overused words (penis, cock, huge, enormous, massive), one is for spelling and grammar, and the last pass is a polish – just tweaking anything that stands out.

The following first draft has had none of these passes. It’s an erotic story that flowed right out of the author’s head and onto the page after a lot of research into the trucking industry.

HOTSHOT

I saw the ad in “Trucker’s World” magazine at the Phillip’s 66 truck stop outside Pittsburgh, PA. It read:

“Wanted: Hotshot Oilfield drivers. Must have own truck with 4-ton hauling capacity. Will assist with commercial driver’s license. Contact Pittsburgh LEhigh-4-4367”.

My stepfather died the previous spring. He left me his International Harvester heavy duty C-series that carried up to 8,800 pounds. I had always thought I might make good use of it, and this ad seemed like a real concrete solution.

You might wonder what I was doing at a truck stop if I wasn’t a trucker. The truth is, I liked the food. Okay, that’s half of it. I also liked the scene in the hot showers. Long haul truckers use the showers after sleeping in the lot. The lot is a hotbed of prostitution, narcotics and vice. Sleeping in the truck stop parking lot is free. Breakfast is cheap. Showers are even cheaper, and they include a grubby threadbare towel and a small square of Ivory soap. The thriftiest of truckers don’t waste their money on a lot lizard; they let me blow them. If I got lucky, they’d even fuck me. So that’s the real reason I was at the truck stop. Now that I’ve confessed my own vice, I’m a bit hesitant to tell my name. But I’ll tell you. My name is Hugh Jayness, and I’m a homosexual.

Hotshot trucking was a brand new field. The shippers hired pickup trucks and trailers instead of big rigs. The turnaround time on a big rig could be a long while. The companies tended to wait until their trucks were at capacity before sending them out. A hotshot was smaller. They were ideal for jobs that required same-day or next-day turnaround. I’d often wondered who the truckers were driving their own pick-ups with a heavy load in tow. They were hotshots. And I wanted to be one of them. So I called the number.

“Avalon Trucking, how may I direct your call?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m calling about the ad in Trucker’s World.”

“One moment.”

A deep male voice came on the line. “Avalon, this is Mack.”

“Hi, Mack, I’m calling about the ad. I have a 5-ton pickup.”

“With a gooseneck hitch?”

I wasn’t sure. “Is that the ball thingy on the bumper?”

“Yeah, but we need it mounted in the truck bed.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“We can help with that. Can you come by for a quick interview?”

Avalon Trucking was in an industrial park on the floor of a smoggy valley. The red brick building looked gray from where I parked. The receptionist looked just like she sounded: plump and dowdy with a kind smile.

“Hugh? Go on in. Mack’s expecting you.” She sized me up with elevator eyes. “He’s definitely expecting you.”

Behind an oversized mahogany desk sat a man the size of a gorilla, but not quite as hairy. He chomped on an unlit cigar. He stood and extended a beefy paw across his desk.

“Hugh? Pleased to meet you. Sit. Sit.”

I sat, but he remained standing. With his hands on his hips, he looked to be six feet tall and five feet wide. Thick fur sprouted from his collar. His green eyes were fixed on me. He licked his lips.

I’m not a big guy in any way. I went to the YMCA to keep in shape, but it was hard for me to put on muscle. I’m 5’6”, and weigh 134 pounds. My dick is a little below average. Okay, a lot below average. I have a really big butt. When I was a 98 pound weakling in high school, the big kids used to beat the crap out of me. When the beatings started, I used to hate it. By the time I was in senior year, I’d discovered that all that attention was intoxicating. Then I made an even greater discovery: these guys beating me up really just wanted a blow job. Three bullies became regulars in the supply closet in the multi-purpose room. Sometimes I had to blow all three at once when they crashed my schedule. It was hard work, but I loved it.

So when I saw the way Mack looked at me, I recognized what was about to happen. I was excited, because he looked like a great fuck. I was disappointed, because I really wanted the job. I didn’t think he’d give it to me if we fucked.

“Hugh, can you lock the door?” Mack removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a carpet of fur covering what looked to be massive pectoral muscles and a round belly that had seen more than its fair share of French fries. He stood, revealing the motherlode. Below his belt was a tell-tale bulge that stretched down his right thigh. His piercing green eyes followed mine as I stared at the growing lump in his pants.

“Come here.”

I knelt at his feet. I unbuckled his belt and opened his fly. Most guys pop out when I do that. Not Mack. His cock was trapped in his right pant leg. On top of that, his ass was solid muscle and bigger than mine. I struggled to get them to slide over and down. At last, they came down. I gasped aloud when his cock finally came loose and smacked my chin. Even though it was plenty long, it was so thick it actually looked short. But when I put one hand around it, I saw five inches of flesh still exposed to the air.

“Get it good and wet, boy.”

I opened wide and forced the meat to the back of my throat. It was too thick to get past my tonsils. Or so I thought. Mack held the back of my head and forced me down until I felt my throat swell with his fat cock. I pulled back hard and coughed out a ball of phlegm, catching it in my hand. I slicked up the fat cock and jerked him for a minute before he pushed my face back down on his club-like cock. This time my throat was prepared and I went all the way, burying my nose in his dick whiskers.

“That’s the way, son. Let me fuck your throat.” He held my head and swiveled his hips, fucking my mouth like it was a woman. I tasted the salty drip that meant he was about to reward me with a mouthful of cum.

But then he bent and lifted me up, letting his fat cock fall out of my mouth and slap his thigh. Mack fumbled with my belt and tore at my fly, pulling my pants down roughly. He pushed me over the desk, then ripped a hole in my underwear before he knelt. His tongue on my hole was a rare treat. It was a big tongue with strong muscles. He forced his way into my hole and it actually hurt a little. There was no way I would be able to take his dick. I had been with a couple of above-average truckers, but nobody as hung as Mack was.

He grunted like a truffle-crazed hog as he probed my ass, making it slick with spit. He stood, his cock waving in the air, and opened his top right desk drawer, extracting a miniature tub of Vaseline. He wiped it on my asshole and spread some on his cock.

“You ready for this?”

I wasn’t. I nodded. I felt the fat head press between my chubby ass cheeks and knock on my back door. I pushed out, which allowed my hole to spread open a tiny bit. That was all he needed. In one swift shove, he put the whole giant head in my ass. I covered my mouth to keep from screaming. I wanted him to back out, but I needed him inside me. He knew his limitations. He wasn’t a regular guy who could just push his way in and start fucking. He backed up a little, which stretched my hole a bit wider, so when he pushed forward another inch, it felt like a relief. He kept pushing slowly until he reached the bottom.

“All good?”

“Yes, sir.” My face said “no”, but he couldn’t see it.

He pulled back, and thrust forward, bumping the end of my hole. He pressed harder, making me stretch. I felt an urge to pee, but held it in.

Like a locomotive, he picked up speed slowly but surely until he was bludgeoning my guts with his fat meat club. My arms holding me up on the desk shook, then my legs buckled. A warm wave of pleasure was making my muscles twitch uncontrollably. The constant pounding at the rear wall pressed against my bladder. I was going to pee.

“Mack, I don’t know how to say this…”

He knew. He emptied his inbox and put it in front of me. I unleashed a small amount of piss, then with each slam against that wall, another stream escaped. Soon I was relieved to find there was no more pee. His inbox was half full.

Now my dick was leaking precum. Thin strings dripped into the inbox at first, then I started gushing. Mack’s fat cock was squeezing it out of me. When he saw that, he sped up.

I wanted to see my new boss, but I was facing the desk. I reached behind me and put a hand on his ass, pulling him towards me in time with his thrusts.

“Mmm, yeah! You’re gonna make me come, boy.”

I rubbed his upper belly and found my way through the thick underbrush to his nipple. I squeezed.

“Fuuuck!” He grabbed my waist, pushed all the way in, and stopped. I felt my ass filling with warm cum. It turned me on so badly, I shot my own load into the inbox without even touching myself.

The boss buried his mustache in my hair and kissed my scalp. “Good boy. Oh such a good boy.”

I felt him pull back and heard a wet syrupy sound as his cum followed his cock out of my hole. Then I felt a cum-soaked handkerchief wiping my backside. I stood, pulling up my pants. I turned to face my impaler. He was struggling to get his semi-hard cock back into his pants.

“Oh, uh, you’re hired. Leave your number with Dinah on the way out. You’re on call, 24 hours a day 7 days a week. When we call, you drive. I’ll have our best man, Deckard, take you on a ride-along. Don’t worry, it pays.”

“Mack, sir, how much does this job pay anyway?”

“Oh like a hundred bucks a run. You might get six runs a week during busy season, or four runs during down time.”

Six hundred a week! My rent was only twenty-five a month at the boarding house. I was going to be rich!

***

O 69

Bradley was addicted to Indian Bingo. Every Friday night after he collected his pay, he drove to the reservation where they played Bingo for $1.00 a card. He wasn’t married. His girlfriend had left him when the addiction first started. So when he lost half a paycheck chasing that Bingo high, he only hurt himself.

Bradley was not well hung. In fact, he was two inches below average. This weighed on his thoughts every waking hour except when he was playing Bingo. The excitement and the money and the camaraderie kept his mind off of his painfully small penis. Bradley had a handsome face, with piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones. He wore a scruffy beard that brought out his fine features and made him attractive to the ladies.

It was Friday, and Bradley needed a fix. He drove to the Bingo Hall and bought four cards for the first game. He sat down at his usual spot, anxiously waiting for the caller to start the game. To his consternation, a big hulk of a man sat down across from him, blocking his view of the podium. The man wore a huge smile.

“Name’s Ed.” He extended a hand. They shook.

“Bradley. I ain’t seen you around before.”

Ed winked. “I only show up where I’m needed.”

Bradley frowned, trying to figure out what Ed meant by that. He shrugged. The caller took the podium.

“First game is a simple Bingo. Just one row Horizontally, Vertically, or Diagonally. First number…” He rolled the bingo cage until a ball popped out. “B 13. B 13.”

Ed said, “That’s my lucky number, Brad.”

Bradley was annoyed. He wanted to concentrate on the game. With four cards, it was too easy to miss something jacking jaws with your table mates.

Ed said, “I got a surprise for you if they call O 69.”

Bradley shook his head, as if trying to get rid of a fly.

Sure enough, the next number was O 69.

Ed clapped his hands in front of Bradley and the room disappeared. Ed and Bradley were seated on a bench in an empty park.

Bradley jumped to his feet. “What the fuck? Where the fuck are we?”

Ed patted Bradley on the shoulder. “We’re right where you need to be right now.” He waved his hand, and the two of them were completely naked.

Bradley instinctively reached down a hand to cover himself. Then he saw Ed’s appendage. Two hands wouldn’t be enough to hide it. It hung to his knees. Despite himself, Bradley felt his tiny penis growing hard behind his hand. He wasn’t normally into dudes, but something as big as Ed’s cock was like an aphrodisiac. Bradley blushed.

Ed grinned. “You like it. You want it. Am I right?”

Bradley nodded.

“You can have it, but you have to let me fuck you.”

Bradley said, “I don’t get it.”

“Let me explain. I was like you once. Even smaller. I was so small, my only choice was to get fucked. So that’s what I did. I’ve had armies of men inside me. It made me forget how small I was, and I loved it.

“Then one day, walking on the reservation, I found a wishing stone. If you rub a wishing stone while speaking aloud your wish, it will come true. I was a little vindictive. I wanted revenge on the men with normal cocks who’d fucked me all those years. I asked to have the ability to steal their size. Any man who fucked me would lose an inch, and I would gain an inch.”

Ed clapped his hands, and the room was gone

Bradley sat up. This was interesting.

Ed said, “I was greedy. I let a dozen men fuck me before I realized I had grown too big. I tried to give back the size I’d stolen, but those men wouldn’t let me near their ass.”

Bradley smiled. “Are you saying that if I somehow let you fuck me with that thing, I can be your size?”

Ed nodded. “I’d rather give you half. There’s no sense in being this big.”

Bradley dropped his jeans and bent over the bench. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ed placed the fist-sized head of his throbbing cock at Bradley’s virgin hole. He spit several times until it was slick, then tried pushing in.

Bradley felt the intense pain as his tight hole began to stretch. At the same time, he felt a stirring in his cock, as though it had let go and grown just a tiny bit. It was more intoxicating than Bingo.

Ed said, “Am I hurting you?”

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, but keep going. I want this.”

Ed pushed in until Bradley bucked. “Should I stop?”

Bradley shook his head fiercely. There was too much to gain from this pain.

Ed pushed until there was an audible pop. His head was past the sphincter now. Bradley, on all fours, tilted his head to watch his penis grow with each forward thrust.

Ed pushed easily until he hit the second door. Getting past that could be a real challenge, especially with a virgin like Bradley.

“If I just fuck you here, you’ll gain about four inches and I’ll lose four. Is that enough?”

Bradley said, “Hell, no! I want more!”

Ed said, “Good, because I wanted to lose a lot more than four inches. But this is going to hurt.”

Bradley didn’t care. He felt that bizarre sensation where it seems like the cock just tore a hole in your rectum. In reality, it was pushing past the rectum into the sigmoid colon. Bradley wished he’d discovered anal sex earlier. He would have been a fairy if it meant feeling this good. Of course, the pleasure was amplified by the sight of his tiny penis growing bigger with each of Ed’s painful thrusts.

Ed said, “I have to come inside you or it doesn’t take. I hope that’s okay.”

Bradley looked between his legs. There were at least seven soft inches between his thighs. He was a grower, too. This was perfect.

“Yeah, it’s perfect right now. Are you close?”

Ed nodded. He picked up the pace, carefully thrusting only as deep as he had been. But the thrill of losing his size had him excited. When the orgasm came, he got too excited and pushed all the way to the root. Bradley’s cock rivaled a horse. When Ed pulled out, he shrunk to a mere nipple. He smiled at Bradley.

“Looks like you’re going to have to fuck me now, to even it out.”

Bradley looked admiringly at Ed’s powerful frame. “I could make a habit out of this.”

MPREG Like No Other

Peter wrote about male pregnancy in a different time, when gender roles were more rigid than they are now. Modern MPREG is soft, gentle, more romance than smut. Peter’s work, best described by the Japanese term “bara” – is hard, rough and extremely sexual. While modern MPREG often relies on aliens or other supernatural forces to explain the pregnancy, Peter’s work relies on plausible scientific explanations, as you will read below.

Most of Peter’s books we’ve uncovered so far are about anal pregnancy among a tribe called the Monachee. The forthcoming novel, The Expectant Member, is about Milo, a horse-hung but otherwise ordinary man who gets pregnant in his massive penis. Because of his extraordinary size, he is able to carry the gestating embryo.

How did Milo get pregnant? In a twist, it was when he was having vaginal sex with Jordan, a trans man, who also gets pregnant. Milo’s huge member creates a tight seal, and the suction causes one of Jordan’s eggs to dislodge and enter Milo’s urethra. It travels to the bladder, becoming a zygote in the long cum-soaked passageway. The next time Milo pees, the embryo attaches itself to the urethra.

These are two ways a man can get pregnant. Jordan is a man with a vagina and uterus; his pregnancy is entirely plausible – in fact it has already happened. Milo’s pregnancy is pure fiction.

If you want to read all about it, the book is for sale on Smashwords. https://www.smashwords.com/books/presale/1161815

At the Gate

Wilbur waited at the gate for his flight back to Albuquerque. He dreaded the long, boring pep talks at Limon headquarters. Every three months, Limon Corporation required the sales staff to fly to Topeka and endure the long-winded talks from the CEO. Wilbur was sales support, a technical role that had absolutely no business listening to the incessant bullshit they were shoveling. The only thing about these trips that he enjoyed was the time away from the wife and kids.

When Wilbur was younger, his classmates bullied him. It was deep cruelty because Wilbur had the shortest, thinnest penis in gym class. They called him “Clitty Boy” and “Pinky.” When Juan, his supposed best friend, joined in, it was almost too much to bear.

Juan took Wilbur aside. “Listen, man, I know this hurts, but you got to hear it. With a dick like that, no woman is gonna want you.”

It was easy for Juan to say. He had a dick hanging halfway to his knees. All the women were going to want him. But surprisingly, things turned out different. As they got older, Juan grew less interested in women. Wilbur, on the other hand, had benefitted from his reputation. It turns out, a lot of women prefer their men on the small side. And even though it was short, it could shoot like a rocket. Wilbur got his high school sweetheart pregnant at the Senior Prom. They were married, and had three more kids after that.

What Wilbur never told her was that his friendship with Juan was more than platonic. Juan taught Wilbur how to make his ass into a pussy. Every time they got together, they had a few beers, then Juan would cram his dick in. At first it hurt so bad that Wilbur cried. But practice makes perfect. So long as they hung out every weekend, it got easier. Soon, Juan was able to slip inside Wilbur like he was fucking a cow. It was their secret.

The problem with these trips away was that Wilbur missed being with Juan. His ass tightened back up, and it was painful the next time they fucked. Then Wilbur discovered the Turkish Baths in Topeka. His little pee-pee attracted the big guys like flies to shit. In Kansas, those corn fed boys were hung huge. Many were bigger than Juan. They fucked like horny dogs. On more than one occasion, Wilbur left the baths with a breeze blowing up his gaping hole.

This weekend had been a bust. It was Harvest Festival, and all the men went to the fairgrounds with their wives and kids, not to the Turkish Baths. The place was barren; Wilbur didn’t get fucked like he needed. He could feel his trap door closing and tightening. He didn’t know what to do.

Then his prayers were answered. A big corn fed dope in a black cowboy hat plopped down across from him, legs spread wide. A huge grin covered his face. Wilbur glanced down out of habit and gasped aloud.

“Yep, it’s all me.” The Kansan hunk put his hand on the mid-shaft and rubbed it gently. Wilbur felt his tiny penis harden. The man’s cock showed completely in his Wranglers. It bulged across his upper thigh. The head wrapped around so it almost touched his ass. It was at least as big as Juan, but it was getting bigger.

“Man, I think I need some help. Can you help me?” It was a simple but effective line. Wilbur nodded and followed the man into the terminal men’s room. It was busy, but it took no time for the two to get into a large stall together unnoticed.

Wilbur loved huge cocks. Juan’s colossal cock showed him pleasure his wife could never give. The small ones weren’t enough. Wilbur loved how his small penis lured men who were bigger than average. This time, he landed a whale.

The Kansas hunk struggled to get his skin-tight jeans past his massive cock and ass. When he finally got free, the tree trunk of flesh swung skyward. The Kansan grabbed Wilbur by the ears and forced his cock into his mouth, barely. The head was too big, and the corona couldn’t get past Wilbur’s teeth.

“I thought you faggots were good at giving head.”

“I’m not a…” Wilbur realized it was pointless to deny that he liked men. But he didn’t identify as gay. He was a married man who found pleasure being with men.

“Not a what?”

“I’m not into oral. Are you into fucking?”

The Kansan grinned again. “Hell yeah. My wife don’t let me do nothing to her. I gotta jack off and squirt inside her, and she squeals like a stuck pig even then. You would let me fuck you?” He held out his cock, which was several inches longer and much thicker than anything Wilbur had tried before.

Wilbur dropped his pants and put his hands on the toilet seat. “Fuck my ass.”

A few loogies and a lot of spit later, the Kansas man was slippery enough to push his way in. It felt like the first time with Juan. Wilbur cried from the combination of pain, pleasure and nostalgia. This man might ruin him. As the head popped past the inner sphincter, Wilbur cried out.

“I can stop. I’m hurting you.”

Wilbur reached back until he felt the man’s thigh. He pulled him closer. Inside, he could feel the cock stretching him like a water balloon. It hit the end, and there was still more to go. Then the Kansan did something new. He lifted Wilbur’s right hip and kept going. The head popped past a hole then Wilbur never knew existed. He nearly fainted. It was terribly painful for about three seconds.

The pain was replaced with a tingling sensation that grew and grew. It was like an orgasm, but it came from his butt. Wilbur’s little dick dripped juice on the floor. The muscular stranger rested his hips against Wilbur’s ass, filling him as far as he could go.

“You ready for this?”

Wilbur nodded vigorously.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Wilbur said, “Just fuck me, man.”

And the Kansan obliged. His thrusts were short and gentle at first. After a minute, he picked up the pace and lengthened his strokes. Each out stroke pulled the head out of that deep hole, and each in stroke pushed it in with a loud pop. It sounded like someone was spanking their kid. The bathroom was so busy and noisy, nobody noticed.

Wilbur felt dizzy. Each time that head popped in and out of the inner hole, he felt spasms of pleasure wracking his body. The fat cock got fatter. Now a steady stream of clear drool dripped from the end of Wilbur’s dick.

“You come like a woman, don’t you?” It wasn’t an insult, just an observation.

Wilbur grunted. They continued to bump and grind with abandon. The Kansan never stopped accelerating. Soon his cock was a blur as it thrust back and forth into Wilbur’s wrecked asshole. Then Wilbur felt something completely new. The tingling that started when the Kansan poked that hole was building, and it reached a tipping point. Suddenly, Wilbur’s entire body was throbbing. The muscles in his gut were contracting in rapid waves, massaging the fat cock inside them.

“What the fuck is that? Goddamn boy, you’re gonna get me off.” The Kansan threw his head back and hollered like a cowboy. “Fuck! God damn!”

He fired shot after shot of cum inside Wilbur. Each time he came, his cock swelled, pressing against the walls. Without touching himself, Wilbur blew his load in big clumps on the floor.

“Damn boy. You ain’t got much of a gun, but you got plenty of ammo.”

They cleaned up with toilet paper and ass gaskets, flushing the evidence of their crime. Wilbur wasn’t going to hear his farts for a month. The muscle bound Kansan grabbed Wilbur by the shoulders and tried to kiss him.

Wilbur had never kissed a man before. He started to back away, but the man was too quick. He put his tongue down his throat. Wilbur liked it. He felt safe with this man.

Back at their seats in the terminal, the cowboy leaned forward. “Name’s Kirk. What takes you to Albuquerque?”

“Heading home.”

“Me too.” He leaned forward and gave Wilbur his business card. He sold livestock supplies. “I’d sure like your repeat business.”

Micro-smut on Twitter

@PeterSchutes is producing illustrated micro-smut on Twitter. What is micro-smut? It’s extremely short fiction, limited to 280 characters. The challenge is to turn on the reader in just a few words. Below are a few of the best:

Alec put Ralph on the sofa and held one leg aloft. This allowed him to fuck ferociously from the side. Ralph had never seen such a big dick, and now it was thrusting harder and harder in his ass. The pain subsided. Alec was an expert fucker.

After two terrible minutes, my ass started to remember Cody’s fat cock. I groaned and pushed back hard, trying to squeeze every single inch of him up in my guts. His hips squished my butt. He still had two or three inches to go.

Zeke wanted to go on Spring Break with his hot gymnast roommate Chuck, but there wasn’t any swimsuit that could contain him. He would be the object of ridicule on the beach. He pictured his massive cock straining to escape his banana hammock.

A Poem About the Burden of Size

We found a deeply personal poem written by Peter, bemoaning the burden of being huge. If you thought you could unveil his psychology through his stories, this poem will be like opening his calvarium and staring directly at his brain.

The Obscenity

Come with me, I'll show you why
Too much of a good thing can make you cry
Like a horse caught in a bear trap

It isn't you who'll do the crying
For you'll refuse me 
Once the flesh that so enticed you
Sees the light of night

First one button, then the next
Should lead to glorious sex
Not screams of fear
And shouts of doubt
That end with you simply walking out
Leaving me turgid and exposed
with my obscenity in my hand

I don't wish it to shrink
Despite what you think
I want my frame to grow to match it
And live among giants
Who find my obscenity average or small
And who have no problem at all
Accommodating me to the root
So I may plant the seeds of passion
Deep where they belong
Not cast aside like a mustard seed
That lands on my stone chest
With its heavy heart

Obscenity is man's invention
Crafted by the envious who crave the attention
That I cannot avoid

At the party the men gaze longingly
And force their way so they can see
The flesh that causes terror
And they know they've made an error
Like a mouse that takes the cheese
But they can give it back
Before the trap can snap
Then leave the cheese to mourn
Its deadly enticement
The Obscenity

There are lots of free stories on here…

Enormous appendage popping out of speedo = Bara

Free Samples

You can, ahem, “sample our wares” in a number of places. There are three primary places where Peter’s prose has landed like a colossal floppy cock hitting the thigh just above the knee. There you will find all his works in the three primary “Happily Ever After”niches:

Three Primary Niches

  • Lonely Big Dick meets Lonely Small Dick and vice versa
  • Lonely Big Dick meets AboveAverage Joe and vice versa
  • Big Dick and/or Little Dick gets pregnant

Where to Find Free Big Dick and MPREG Erotica by Peter

First – Smashwords

On Smashwords, entire novels are offered up for free. The selection rotates every so often, so you might even get lucky and find your wish list filled. When you sign up for the mailing list right here on this site, you get 5 free short stories that will curl the hairs on your balls. Luckily, shorter ball hairs make your dick look bigger. Unlike many unscrupulous smut peddlers, we have sense enough to know that sending you more than four emails per year is just plain obnoxious. The emails are SFW so we can all have that HEA ending.

Second – Peter’s Twitter Feed

Find Peter on Twitter This is an excellent source for tiny samples we like to call micro-porn. Twitter’s format forces us to reduce Peter’s lengthy prose into just the naughty bits that convey the joy and pain of being big, being small, or taking a big one. Bonus here is if you follow Peter, you’ll see a tweet with a link to a free novel. Also, the real-life author behind the writing likes to post the occasional erotic selfie.

Third – Right Here on PeterSchutes.com

Yes, that’s right. When we stumble across fragments or short stories that haven’t been anthologized, we can’t easily sell them. So you, dear blog subscriber, reap the benefits. Not only do you get to read never-before-seen fiction, you also catch glimpses into Peter’s prodigious penile psychology.

Marketing Erotica

Peter’s books have always sold in a slow, irregular trickle. Part of the reason is that Amazon doesn’t let erotica authors advertise on their platform. There are other ways to advertise; however, until recently, we hadn’t tried anything other than this blog and the occasional tweet.

Pregnant man ponders his lot in life
Male pregnancy erotica written from the protagonist’s colon

A week ago, we asked a casual question of a fellow erotica author that led to a big change in our approach. Successful gay erotica author Jean Valjean recommended animated gifs and a jukebox tool that allows us to create a few dozen salacious tweets that trickle out in random order four times a day. We’re up to 150 backlogged tweets and will likely stop at 500.

Creating 150 unique tweets from Peter’s books (mostly) was eye-opening. We never stopped to check our editing jobs on the books. WOW. It’s hard to market a bunch of books that still need a polish or two. Being forced to say something arousing in 280 characters or less makes for extremely concise edits. Adverbs and adjectives are the first to go. Names get replaced with “he”. Entire descriptive sentences vanish, leaving the raw act of sex exposed.

With this new mindset, PS publishing vows to edit every book again. Right now, the books are in a genre that we probably invented called “Anatomical Smut.” If you’ve read Peter’s works, you know that he spends an inordinate amount of time describing how massive size impacts the innards of the bottom and the life of the top. When a male character gets pregnant, the book is essentially written from inside the colon. We’re going to keep looking through his hoard of manuscripts to see if some were rewritten as gay romance, which didn’t even exist as a genre until the 1970’s.

So look for some revisions to Peter’s novels in the weeks and months to come.

If you’re interested in the steamy Twitter ad campaign, which is much more polished than the books, check out Peter’s Twitter

UPDATE: There are over 1,500 tweets stacked up in the jukebox now, and dozens more added each week. Be sure to check out the Twitter feed. It’s a smorgasbord of big fat dicks.

Peterstiltskin

Package Delivery

We’re on the eve of publishing a 25,000 word erotic romance called “Deceived, Cursed, and Blessed”. Set in the 1930s in Chicago and Hollywood, the novel follows the story of Max Anderson, a man who makes a deal with a demon to have the biggest dick in town. Like most bargains with diabolical wish-granters, the result is disastrous.

Max and his lover have to find a way out of the diabolical pact: a Rumpelstiltskin clause.

If you’re a fan of brodbingnagian appendages, romance, and turns of the screw, this is the novella to read. ‘Deceived, Cursed, and Blessed’ will be available in paperback and e-book on Amazon, Smashwords, and at your favorite e-book retailers in January 2022.

Link to paperback pre-sale will appear here when available

Can smut convert to Erotic Romance?

I don’t have the patience to read a gay erotic romance, so I’m not sure how far Peter’s anatomically outrageous smut lies from such a genre. If I take out a lot of explicit description and replace it with euphemisms, will these otherwise romantic HEA stories be something of interest to a wider reading populace?

Here’s my concern – Peter’s stories are all centered around the phallus, whether huge or tiny (and rarely anything in between). American society has such a phobia of the penis. Hollywood can easily show a nude woman, front and back, but they get an X-rating if they show an erect penis. If the penis is soft, it’s still NC-17, as if this magnificent organ were far more shameful than war and murder.

So my fear, of course, is that I have to leave the penis in there, or the whole story falls apart. So much of the plot is driven by the loneliness or shame that men feel when their privates don’t conform to the norm. Can I successfully write Big Dick Romance, or will I have to leave Peter’s works in their current gut-pounding gay pulp genre? Should I write as a woman? It’s not that I need to make a lot of money; I just want to feel like I have a true readership who is excited for my next romance.