Micky pushed open the front gate and looked around the yard. There were pink begonias blooming in flower boxes on either side of the stoop. They were fat-petaled, lovely. The garden surrounding the house was healthy, too: roses, tulips, even a few clutches of impatiens here and there. Micky climbed the stoop and dropped his baseball bat by the door. He fumbled around for the key in his pocket and unlocked the door. Cool air greeted him, it took the edge off of the summer night.
Dad was in the living room, sitting with one leg across the other, reading through the town ledger. His dangling foot bounced metronomically. Micky pulled his hood down and waved. Dad looked over the paper and smiled. He folded it precisely and tucked it into the side of his recliner.
“How’d the game go?” Dad asked.
Continue reading “Least Valuable Player” »
It’s been twenty days since my last update. Utterly shameful. I’ve never been particularly hot on the whole “consistency” thing, but I will attempt to make an effort for what remains of the summer. Unfortunately there are only so many hours in the day and so very many projects to wrap up, but for you fine folks I make the effort.
Expect another (real) update tomorrow. Til’ then!
PS. Friend me on Facebook, bro!
My flash fiction collection, Boy Stories, is out now via Go Deeper Press. You can read “Bartalk,” the first story in the collection. Also, stream the June 30th episode of Literature for the Halibut on KDHX St. Louis where I read “Paul” from the collection.
You can buy the book on Go Deeper’s website, or Amazon, or Barnes & Noble.
Just remember to email your receipt to benijbright [at] gmail dot com, because I’m writing custom 500 word stories for the first ten people to send in their proof of purchase.
I hope you end up loving these stories as much as I do.
That awkward moment when you go looking for fuel for your kink and you get your own website in the google search results.
So my sister-in-publishing Tamsin Flowers who wrote the delightful “Lucky Mascot” in Huddle: Sex With Sporty Queers has a quick preview of Boy Stories. She has this to say:
This is such a great little collection – I quite literally loved from the very first page. And what’s not to like? 15 exemplary bites of red hot, super sexy flash fiction. And as the title suggests, it’s all about the boys. 15 stories in 22 pages and an awful lot of fucking! All of it written in Benji’s inimitable and frankly charming style.
Check out her site for the rest of her preview and an excerpt from the story “The Dog Days” in the collection.
The french, those eloquent fuckers, have referred to the post-orgasmic state as la petite mort or “the little death.” If sex and orgasm are little deaths then you’re going to kick the bucket about fifteen times when my flash fiction collection comes out on June 30th.
Fun fact: Go Deeper Press (the gracious and awesome publishers) initially rejected my manuscript because it didn’t have enough sex. So I sat down, reworked it, and UPPED THE GAY SEX ANTE by a factor of WHOA!
In this collection you’ll read an extremely unorthodox eulogy in “Paul,” peak into the strange, free-associative world of “Mike’s Dream Journal: December 2013,” and do “One or Two Bad Things” in a shitty hotel room. Along with, you know, over a dozen other stories!
If you’d like a preview of the kind of tale you can expect, check out this blog post from Go Deeper Press which contains my 500 word story “Ceci n’est pas un western.”
Srsly, you guys are going to love it.
Wrote a short new Twine game [less of a game and more a piece of fiction to navigate around]. It’s called How to: Handle a Male of the Species and it’s sort of ridiculous. As usual it contains a host of disreputable shit and delves into some vaguely kinky stuff, check the tags above to see if anything that particularly gets you off is included.
You can play it here or click the image above.
Thanks for checking it out.
This is the second entry in the Friction series. This series is designed primarily as a heavily eroticized alternative to some of my more plot-driven work. If you like this series and want to see more of it, let me know in the comments.
Warren, the agent, had a big white smile and tweezed eyebrows. He was a smooth talker and even though it was hot outside, his perfectly curly hair wasn’t a bit disheveled. Ricky and I were both sweating hard: his dark green t-shirt was even darker under the arms and the light hair under my arms was matted and wet. Warren ushered us into the kennel and apologized for the heat as if he himself had switched on the sun that morning.
He talked up the variety and impeccable temperaments of the pets he had to show us. We followed him into the showroom and I was immediately surprised that there weren’t more perspective adopters roaming the floor. Aside from Ricky, myself, and maybe one other couple, the huge place was deserted. Warren seemed unfazed by the emptiness.
“It’s the damned heat,” he said, blushing a little at his own mild swearing. “We’ve been slow all week.” He brightened quickly. “But that doesn’t mean we aren’t ready to show you some amazing potential additions to your home!” Continue reading “Friction Series: Kennel” »
The link to Fuck That Guy has recently changed, so if you have it saved in your browser it has now been moved. You can find it by clicking the image or the link below it:
If, by some horrible miracle, you have no idea what Fuck That Guy is. Now is an excellent time to get acquainted with my specific brand of filthy choose-your-own-adventure since God(s), my next game, is in full development.
Superfan Isaiah Montgomery Proctor sent me this mystical revelation of a poem retelling the story of The Spice Merchant in rhyme. This is erotic poetry at its absolute finest and classiest. Take it all in.
The Spice Merchant*
By Isaiah M. Proctor
Prince Bihaj was well known to crave new, rare delights
from the farthest-flung regions explored.
His demands were unceasing, but supplies were finite;
in result he was jaded and bored.
At the whim of this indolent prince, without glee
came Salim, a spice merchant, with haste
to the opulent palace, where glut and ennui
had impaired the monarch’s sense of taste.
Surpassing his agents, Salim (the prince heard)
had gone farther, and was said to possess
some new flavor. So, summoned to court with a word,
did the woebegone merchant confess:
“Beloved of heaven, blessed with wisdom and might,
it is true: by omission, I’ve lied.
But I kept this thing secret, intending no slight,
for this flavor has yet to be tried.” Continue reading “[Guest Post] A poem by Isaiah M. Proctor” »