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Cocktocock Stories Volume 2

by Martin Finn

206 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); Mature audiences only - contains graphic sexual sequences; catalogue #04-0676; ISBN 1-4120-2848-5; US$19.99, C$25.00, EUR16.25, £11.26

Erotic narrative throbbing with lightning-strike sexual entanglements. Sex as an existential impact event, forms the core of these stories: horny, vibrant tales of fulfilling sensuality between men.

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About the Book      About the Author      Excerpt      Catalogue Information

About the Book

Cocktocock Stories Volume 2 comprises twelve erotic tales horny, vibrant, orgasmic accounts of fulfilling sex between men cock2cock. These lightening strike sexual entanglements are recounted by a storyteller who reveals an obvious kinship with his subjects. Through slice of life scenarios, sex and lovemaking is proudly painted onto the page in human terms the poignant is not shunned. Sex as an existential impact event, forms the core of this erotic fiction. Man to man... male2male dick2dick encounters that bypass contemporary sex role preconceptions and notions of multiple, disposable sexual transactions.

www.cock2cock.com

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About the Author

This collection of stories reveals further the elemental thrills of cocktocock (phalli interactive) sex among men. Cocktocock as 'modus orgasmi' is a topic with primal resonance (having often occurred early in life, before any other sexual activity) and a powerful universal symbol (genital - genital) of intimacy... it stirs deep-seated instinctual responses often accompanied by strident political debate.

Encouraged by contemporary gay thinkers and media mouth pieces, much of gay culture has disregarded intuitive physicality and humanity in it's approach to sex; preferring to peer into a cerebral, merchandised, drug enhanced and anti human abyss where identity is an externalised construct... another consumer capitalist comparative study of the way gay men are prompted to live their lives. Self-perception cannot overwrite our innate human nature as easily as modern thinkers would have us believe. No matter how many times we are told the opposite - human beings know that on an individual level we do not have lifestyles - we have lives.

It is 'acts of living' that make us who we are; if we have no sense of ownership over our life choices and values, no experience of having lived beyond the capricious fashions of our time... then we have truly forgone the succulent cherry of life... whose pips so many are desperate to squeeze... devil may care.

Martin Finn

London July 2004

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Excerpt

BUNKING IN

Everything about the Tour de France (Le Tour) is a Gallic rush and a whirl. As the event sweeps around France every town, village, hamlet and crossroads it traverses has a minute/minutes of glory as it goes by. In many cases blink and you would have missed it! It's a tremendous occasion and a great buzz.

Mathew is a reporter from a provincial newspaper in England. His editor and the local chamber of commerce thought it a good idea to run an article about Le Tour, show what a great boon such an event could be for their town. So, Matt was despatched to deepest France tasked to get some photos and drink in the atmosphere ... 'No prob' our man thinks. At 32 years old Mathew stood about 5'10", weighed in at a respectable 165lbs, he kept fit by swimming and playing squash. No boyfriend at present, he moved around a lot. To make progress in journalism you have to be mobile and quick on your feet, it didn't leave much time for stable relationships. For the last 6 years he'd changed employers and locations regularly. He'd been in his present job for about a year and was feeling fairly settled, playing the role of a freelance ... but on a salary. So, it wasn't Premier League ... he'd resolved that all things considered ... and now with the short hop to La Belle France ... the job was ok.

The brief was; arrive the evening before Le Tour hit town, stay for the following day and night. See the race come and go so to speak. So Mathew spent his first night at the small country hotel with half the world walking, nay, banging around the place ... hollering and squawking ... it wasn't like sleep time at all. Consequently he got no rest.

The preparations were geared for the following day at 11am. Le Tour would pass through ... an estimated 2.33 minutes from entering the village boundary to exit. This small hamlet ... crossroads ... was teeming with people and vehicles. It was an unholy human scrum that Anglo authorities would no longer tolerate. For the French it was their day and they were going to make it fabulous, exciting, successful and essentially human! Mathew stood back and observed ... taking the odd picture.

It was as he scanned around through the camera lens that Mathew first realised ... or woke up to ... the numerous lithe male bodies around the place ... many wearing cycling shorts ... the bulges were in abundance! Mathew stared through the lens for much longer than normal ... it seemed more discreet than gawking. He decided immediately to buy sunglasses ... these crotches and buns and legs and ... and ... were not to not to be missed. He quickly bought and donned shades ... cycling styled of course.

From 10.30am the atmosphere really kicked in. Folks in the bar where Mat had harboured could see the riders coming towards their village live on TV. Though it was early in the day everyone seemed to be well oiled ... even Mathew had sunk a number of beers ... to be authentic. As the locals witnessed the riders enter the village on TV ... there was a scramble for the exit to watch them ride by ... flash by ... in real life. Mathew continued to watch the TV. The roar and vibration that passed along with the frontrunners (Le Pack) was immense. Like a wave of euphoria, exertion and testosterone sweeping over the crowd and the whole village. Then it was gone and a lull. A smaller wave of the aforesaid then passed over with the main body (Le Peleton) of riders. That was it. That was the day Le Tour came to town.

Consequently the villagers hosted a hell of a feed up and party. Mathew got steaming drunk ... he bought electric blue Lycra cycling shorts ... at some point, declined intimacy with several female revellers and finally fell into bed at about 7pm. The whole place partied on! About 9pm Mathew was brought around from his stupor by a knocking on the door. It wouldn't stop ... he put his hands on his chest and then felt his arms and legs ... he was kind of numb all over ... thirsty as hell ... conscious of a 'snug' feeling around the waist, genitals and inner thighs. Finally raising his head to look ... he remembered he'd decided to try on his new Lycra shorts before he passed out. Whomsoever was at the door, they were now calling out his name and knocking more insistently.

On opening Mathew saw the owner and Dillon. Dillon, American, 28 years old, 5'9, 170lbs, not quite a cycler's build ... he was a tad stocky for that ... but he was fit. He'd been cycling all day and he was looking fine. Mathew was conscious of glancing over the owner's shoulder all the time to check out and smile at the cute guy. The gist of the matter was that Mathew would have to share with this nice young man. There was nowhere else for him to sleep but the street ... and on such a day it couldn't happen. Mathew had no intention that it should. The owner left and Dillon stayed.

The room was tidy enough ... just Mathew's clothes strewn where he had stripped off. That was easily solved. Dillon stared at the only bed in the room. "Er ... I can sleep on the floor. I didn't realise I was muscling in on your bed." Dillon let his pack fall and he sat on it wearily as he spoke. He was handsome, fit and looking somewhat rugged at that moment ... however ... even he could not conceal what a disappointment it would be having to crash on the deck. "Did I get your room, or are they just overbooked? ... I'm Mathew by the way." Mathew smiled as supportively as he could and shook hands with his new roommate. "I'm a journalist too. Except from the States of course ..." Dillon cleared his throat and continued. "... So when my office thought they were booking this room ... this hotel thought it was your office confirming YOUR booking. Hence here I am ... and it's ok ... you get the bed."

Still coming around from the afternoon binge and then a nap ... Mathew lay back on the bed as Dillon was speaking. When a prolonged pause was not filled by Dillon he thought he'd better sit up. He saw Dillon perched on his pack ... obviously not comfortable or at ease. Mathew wasn't going to be crassly forward ... but he wanted to help the guy out. "Take a rest here on the bed mate ... I can see you're whacked. I'm going to take a shower. I have to be honest and say I was drunk today. I'm a little groggy. Help yourself." Mathew pointed at the bed as he spoke and gathered his shower stuff. "Thanks ... cool. Then I'll take one. Thanks." Dillon was horizontal in a flash. Through the corner of his eye Mathew saw him stretching, arms, torso and legs ... pushing up his bulge ... Lycra cycling shorts too ... nice. Matt exited as he felt his cock stir.

Soon enough Mathew returned clean as a whistle and compus mentos ... now Dillon was fast asleep on his back ... snoring lightly ... his dick rock hard, showing as a thick line of cock in his Lycra shorts. Mathew stood and took in the view for a few minutes, pondering how to proceed. Dillon certainly had cycler's thighs, hard stomach, defined pecs and well developed shoulders and arms. His T-shirt had ridden up his stomach a little ... black hairs were in abundance ... it was obvious Dillon was a hairy guy. Mathew could feel his dick swell ... and fast ... he was wearing his Lycra shorts again ... raring to straddle this guy and wake him with cocktocock rubbing ... Lycra style!

That was just a taste of 'BUNKING IN'...

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Catalogue Information

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