Free Pledges: Gay Erotic Stories by Shane Allison

where pledges served beer, the sheet abandoned elsewhere in the house. “Sir?”
“Shithead,” Connor said to him. “You see a ghost run through here?”
“Ghost?” Lincoln parroted.
Connor covered his crotch and got into Lincoln’s face. “Yeah, some chick in a white bedsheet with holes for eyes and a mouth, you moron.”
Lincoln pointed toward the front door. “That way,” he lied.
The two men started in the direction indicated. Connor ran a glance up and down the pledge. His bare feet skidded to a stop.
“Look at his junk, dude,” Connor said to Tom. “You throw wood at the sight of a couple of upperclassmen cocks, shithead?”
Lincoln choked down a swallow, the taste of their loads so fresh, so exhilarating. “No, Sir.”
Connor growled, made a fist and shook it. Tom clapped his shoulder. “Come on, we gotta find her.”
Connor turned and followed the other man’s lead. Over his shoulder, he called, “Stupid plebe.”
Lincoln grinned and licked his lips. “Stupid? Hardly,” he whispered. Then, smiling, he sang, “ Trick or treat, smell my feet; give me something good to eat. ”

no turning back
rafaelito V. sy

    Raf stood on the upper deck. The sky was cloudless and the ocean before him was an expanse of gentle ripples. Without any land in sight, the whole world was a powdery blue. All other colors came from the men who reveled on the ship. Lining the railing on either side of Raf and surrounding the swimming pool on the deck below, every man wore trunks the various shades of the rainbow. Speedos flaunted superhero physiques. Diesels boasted butts so round that Raf could sink his face in between their mounds. Guys were downing beer, clinking glasses, nibbling on cherries and pineapples that embellished their drinks. In his glass Raf twirled an ice cube with a toothpick that was topped with a pink paper parasol. He leaned on the railing to relish the wind. The sun darkened his body a ruddy tan.
    He had never been on a cruise, much less a cruise in which the passenger list consisted exclusively of near-naked gay men. Hesitation didn’t exist for anybody onboard—hesitation to flirt, to touch, to share the same bed. Neither did apologies. This cruise existed for one reason alone: for those like Raf to have fun with as many partners as they pleased without any regrets. Far at sea, they were free of any law that could condemn them for fucking and loving.
    From behind Raf, a pair of arms wrapped around his torso and a man’s crotch pressed against his ass. The man shoved a tongue into Raf’s ear and whispered, “You’re lost in thought. Anything wrong?”
    It was Grant, his lover of five years, handsome Grant whose fuzzy arms tickled and warmed, whose sapphire eyes Raf drowned in whether they were disagreeing on a film or slurping soup from the same spoon.
    For all the time they had been together, Raf never stopped marveling that their casual meeting at the gym had led to a relationship currently on its fifth year. Never mind that Grant grew up in a small town in the Midwest with scarcely a minority, while Raf was educated in an international school across the Pacific. So what that Grant’s daily diet had been peanut-butterand-jelly sandwiches, while Raf’s childhood meals consisted of coconut salad and mango pie. Love transcended culture and race. In honor of that love, Grant had presented this cruise to Raf for his fortieth birthday.
    This was their second day at sea. Everything had been perfect until Raf picked up a magazine and happened upon a story about someone from his past. “Remember Tomas?” he asked.
    “Tomas?”
“My friend when I was in college. My frat brother. My…” “Your first boyfriend, the guy who entered the military.” Raf was silent. He and Grant were face-to-face. Grant was
    never taller and larger than he was at this instant—a powerhouse of strength shining with tanning oil. Regardless of his forty-eight years, his energy didn’t seem to diminish. Grant still