I promised an excerpt from one of the stories in the LASTING LUST: KINKY COUPLES IN LOVE anthology. So here it is. This one was written by a writer who goes by the pen name Christian Graziedella. In his biography at the end of the anothology, he mentions that he works as an actor and most people would probably know his name. I'm not saying.
In Provincetown, the bars closed at one in the morning. So they showered fast and got dressed to go out. Justin spiked his short blond hair and put on his jeans with the rip up the back thigh. Bill wore low-rise jeans and stuffed his feet into heavy black boots. They both wore tight T-shirts; Bill’s was white and Justin’s red. They were out the door by ten thirty, carrying black leather jackets over their arms.
First they went to a small bar across the street from the guest house. A basement bar, beneath another less desirable guest house, called “The Student Gathering”. The place clearly worked hard to attract a college crowd, but it seemed like all they got were the alumni. It was a slow night. The dark cavern was stippled with twenty or so men who were all over sixty. They stared down at Justin’s ripped jeans and licked their lips. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, but it was nice to feel like chicken again. When they crossed by the bar, an older guy put his hand through the ripped jeans and grabbed his ass. Justin smiled and backed into the guy’s hand so he could slide it across his naked ass; he didn’t mind being felt up in public for a few minutes.
After a couple of martinis there, they left and walked down to Commercial Street to make the rounds. The Atlantic House, better known as the A-House, was all lit, with beefy bouncers at the door taking twenty bucks a head. But inside, twenty bucks later, they only found about a handful of younger townies all discussing drag shows and Brad and Angelina’s new adoption. The music was excellent, but they’d never been into dancing. So they ordered two more martinis and hung out at the bar for a half hour. Justin was hoping someone decent would walk through the door and slide his hand down his pants again.