e-Book Summary/Excerpt (Bill Lee Short Stories)

Short Stories

Bill Lee's LEATHER ROGUES

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First Rites

It was Tom's first visit to a leather bar, "The Nail," but the aroma of leather and ambience of horny guys with interested eyes told him this is where he wanted to belong. Before long a Master-and-slave pair suggested he follow their motorcycles to their home, and his leather indoctrination began. Before that night concluded, he had had a taste of the Master side of two orgasms, been awakened into the slave position with his virgin ass in the air and with another cum on the way, and had learned the real mystique of leather that would last him a lifetime.

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The Black Biker

It was time to get away from the monotony of San Francisco city life, and that meant for me a bike trip to the Sierras a couple of hundred miles away. The drive on I-80 East was routine except for another biker I spotted on a GoldWing, dressed completely in black but with a red scarf. Later, camping near the American River, he showed up again across the camp fire while I was stroking long and slow in the midnight darkness of a forest clearing. There wasn't much conversation but a mutual sharing of the highest of orgasmic crests, and a second one after retiring to a shared sleeping bag. In the morning, there was no sign the biker had ever been with me, but I wouldn't forget. . .

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A Dangerous Place

In the craziness and hoopla of New Orleans' Mardi Gras, I wasn't surprised to encounter a shabbily-dressed kid who turned me on, especially when he silently performed as he was told in my crummy hotel room. I could tell he wanted to stick around the next morning, but I walked away. Then I ran into him that night and something made me want to repeat for some reason. And he was good that time, too, but — somehow things got twisted around. I even kissed him and — some other stuff. New Orleans can be a dangerous place, especially during Mardi Gras.

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Rancher's Choice

It wasn't until Johnny, the young recently-hired Indian ranch hand, failed to return that evening from fence-mending that Kirk was forced to admit to himself and his foreman, Juan, how he really felt about the boy. Together they went searching in the darkness of the extensive ranch, finally spotting a camp fire, but were shocked at finding a naked Johnny hanging from a tree and being whipped by Juan's previous, revengeful slave. The two men were able to subdue the maverick and give him a taste of his medicine that was actually his preference, anyhow. It was seemingly an accident when Johnny and Kirk followed the loving action on their own. They had found each other at last.

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Man of Natoma

The "Ambush-in-Exile" bar was the main hangout for guys into all sorts of trips but a few friends found themselves in a curious tangle of impressions and experiences, all connected to the big leather guy with a beard with a touch of gray and a Harley. They all remembered the brass cock and balls dangling from his cap, too. The confusion stemmed from his actions, each man remembering him as his paragon of a sexual partner, but all very different. Too intrigued to shrug it off, they went searching for the real Man of Natoma.

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On The Road

Cory decided he had to leave the humdrum gas station job in the little Arizona town and hitchhike to Los Angeles where the living was, well, at least more interesting. He gladly accepted a ride from a mysterious driver of a black van and was grateful for the chance to stretch out on the floor in back for a nap. The next thing he knew he was waking naked in darkness illuminated only by a few candles and manacled spread-eagled for the naked stranger's pleasure. What was most surprising is how much he liked it. This was really what he had been lacking. He was, finally, free.

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Bridging the Gap

My master, at least ten years older than me, knew how to bring me to the brink and teeter there until he allowed me to climax, and he put me through my paces whenever he could get away from his wife and kids. He called me a leather cocksucker, and he was right. But then one night his grown son showed up on his motorcycle at my door and asked me to educate him, so to speak. They say a slave has the best training for being a Master, so that's the way it worked out. He took it like a man and loved it, but then it seemed unavoidable, this contradictory role I had with father and son. . . Oh, well, why not?

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Rescue of a Punk

I was sauntering home one evening from my South of Market leather-sex shop when this punk motorcycle kid went down (on the street, that is) right in front of me. He didn't look very injured but I slung him over my shoulder (I'm built for it) and took him home. I stripped his clothes off, looking for damage, but he had a smart mouth so I handcuffed him to the chains of my sling in the proper position, of course. The lesson in leather sex didn't take very long but was pretty effective, if I say so myself. I even let him keep the cock strap I had used on him.

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Danger: Writer At Work

I was trying to write a short story at the computer but my slave, Jack, kept bugging me, especially with his perky ass that was always available. As I wrote this story about this kid at the University, Jack kept my juices flowing one way or another with tricks like lapping my feet and sucking my Levi-clad dick. Perhaps he was following the course of my story, because no sooner than my characters got down to action than Jack got even raunchier, with his tongue up my butt. I had to rush my story to climax before I did the same with Jack. A writer's life is just hell, ya know?

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That's Nice, Too

He was just a kid I had picked up and had sex with on one of my business trips, but for some reason I felt he had more to contribute to my fund of knowledge about life. When he finally started telling me his story, about his being brought out and turned into a slave by his uncle and his experiences with the hired hands on his family's farm, I was not only sure of that but I knew I was getting ready for a repeat performance with the young story-teller. And, as he said, "That's nice, too."

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Ricky and the Marines

When Ricky O'Hara Cassidy bent the young, blond stud over the Bush Street (San Francisco) bridge balustrade, it was the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end. Ricky was frequently lonely and was in the habit of hanging out in special places, looking for young kids to turn into his personal slaves. It seemed for a while that the young Marine (can you believe the name "Kerwin"?) fit the bill until the Marine's former sergeant turned up and both Kerwin and Ricky found out who was Master after all. Ricky wasn't lonely any more.

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The 2000 Awakening

The participants of the mysterious meeting were arriving two by two, Masters and slaves, their motorcycles lining up in military precision outside the low, rambling building in the alley. Their giant, masked host proclaimed that AIDS had been conquered at last and it was now permitted to indulge once more in full, aggressive sex, skin to skin. "No more barriers! No more antiseptics!" Suddenly the room erupted in all the previously-forbidden actions that mature gay men needed to experience together. Masters were again free to demand, and slaves would not hesitate to obey. But what happened to the giant host and his pale slave?

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Bisexual Men's Short Stories by Bill Lee

Secret Of Paris

While traveling to Paris one fall I was strolling through the crowds of the shopping plaza when a striking man caught my eye. I followed him to a porno palace where I found him naked and performing with a girl on stage. But he knew what I wanted and I think he wanted the same thing but -- who knows? We played with each other indirectly, the stripper as a sort of link between the two of us. I saw him with his girlfriend later. I won't tell anyone if you don't. . .

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