Mystery Plus Kink Equals Detective Daddy

As you hopefully know, I recently released my novelette Detective Daddy and the Puppy’s Outing. So far, according to my stats on Smashwords, it hasn’t been downloaded very many times. I would very much appreciate if you helped me by changing that.

Back in April, I considered changing the story so it was “The Dominant Detective”, specifically to avoid getting put in Amazon Jail (which, by the way, is really hard to google because all that comes up is the movie Amazon Jail). However, thanks to Smashwords’s specific content guidelines, I was able to publish it as originally intended. Not only that, there are two-and-a-half more stories of Detective Daddy that I will eventually publish, and at least one of them contains some (what I think is) fairly hot M/M action. So, y’know, if you’re into that, it’s on its way. It just takes time to get stories ready for publication.

And in the meantime, if you like M/M stories, there’s two in Butt Stuff — one with sex and one with spanking.

Oh, okay, fine, here’s a preview of Detective Daddy #3, where Daddy goes down on his new lover:

But I was already lowering myself to one knee, and then to both. Joe made a sound deep in his throat as I unbuttoned his shorts, and then unzipped them.

I was right. He was huge. He had a slightly-below-average build, not really very muscular, but his cock had to be about eight inches long. All men measure, and I knew how big mine was, but I was thick enough that if I wasn’t careful with Tara I would hurt her. Joe was as thick, but longer than me. He was hard, but his cock was so heavy that it didn’t stick out like mine did.

So I helped, one hand on his right thigh, the other around the shaft. It was unbelievably hot in my hand, and seemed to beat in time with his heart. He was circumcised, which I preferred, and his hair was trimmed. Not that I would ever be able to get him all the way down, but I just thought it was nicer to look at.

I let my hand slide down his shaft and over his balls, which fit nicely in my hand. I gave them the barest squeeze and he moaned — and not unhappily.

That was good.

I looked up at him. He looked down at me. His mouth was open slightly.

“You can touch,” I told him, “but I’m in control. The moment I’m not, I stop.”

He nodded.

I took off my glasses and put them in my pocket — I wasn’t going to need them for a while — and wrapped my hand around the base of his cock. Then, eyes closed, I took the head between my lips.

Joe let out a deep, guttural sigh.

I spent a couple of seconds getting used to the taste of him. Some sweat, the barest hint of whatever soap he used, and now that I was close enough that same feral scent that all men seemed to have. I was thankful that he smelled decent — not good, per se, as we’d been moving furniture for three hours, but not bad. I’d known both men and women whose scent had been off-putting.

Joe was not off-putting.

Not at all.

I’ve never actually had sex with a man before, but I’ve been pegged and I liked that, so wouldn’t it follow that I would like the real thing? I don’t know, but maybe someday I’ll find out. And, in the meantime, I can always just write about it.

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