Until we meet again on the other side of the rainbow.
We all woke up to the terrible news on Sunday 12th June, 2016, of the horrific attack in Orlando, and not only did it affect the LGBT community, it also outraged the world.
So many of us felt powerless as we watched the horror unfold upon our screens, but Patricia Strehle had a remarkable idea, one that would galvanize an entire community into action. Patricia brought a group of people together with the idea of creating a book, an anthology, and to donate all the money from the sales of that anthology to the families affected by this terrible tragedy.
Over The Rainbow is the result of that noble idea, stories given by so many wonderful authors from all over the world. These stories are meant to inspire, to warm the heart, and to bring a smile or a gentle laugh to help guide us all through the darkness, and to remind us that we all inhabit this world together, that we need to be kind, and that sometimes, we just need to follow that yellow brick road hand in hand.
We all felt the pain of those terrible events in Orlando, and we felt helpless. A few of us had the idea to bring together as many authors as we could into this Anthology so that the proceeds may benefit those affected by the tragedy, and many people have worked tirelessly to bring this book to fruition. To them we give our heartfelt thanks, because without them, this would not have been possible.
Margie Lane, Ronnica Bourgeois, Sean Kerr, Patricia Strehle, Brandy Newton, and Raissa Phoenix is a group of people who wanted to help, who wanted to do something that came from their hearts, in order to aid those families and friends affected by the tragedy, and they did everything in their power to create this book, to make a difference in a world crying in pain.
eXtasy Books stepped forward to champion the Anthology. Tina and Jay have thrown the entire might of eXtasy Books behind the project, and without them, this Anthology may never have seen the light of day, and they have helped with every single aspect of the book, with all their hearts, and all their compassion, driving the project forward to its conclusion.
So many helped to polish and craft this book, not to mention the incredibly talented Angela Waters who designed the stunning cover and Janet S for the formatting. To the editors: Barb, Bri, Janet, Joselle, Julie, Maga, Priyanka, Tex, Toni, Vicky—thank you.
This book comes to you with a great deal of love, and a great deal of heart, and maybe just a small message to say that we are all on this planet together, and that together, we are better, and stronger, even when our tears blind us.
The One Ring by Sean Kerr
I woke up feeling pointy. You know what it’s like, that thing between your legs has a life of its own, and first thing in the morning it’s always hungry! So I turned over to face Darren and I pushed it against his back.
“Oh God, really?” he groaned, barely awake. How I loved to wake him up with a pointy greeting.
It was our first flat together, and we lived behind the Central Railway Station, which meant that every time a train passed by, our little flat shook like the local disco dancing to Donna Summer. Sometimes we just had to hold onto the bed and ride the waves, but sometimes it would happen at the most opportune moments, and add that little extra…frisson…to the proceedings. Know what I mean?
If I had any hope of releasing the Kraken, I knew what I had to do. Make him a cup of tea. What a great British tradition, a cup of tea, or in my case coffee, a cigarette in bed, then sex. Marvellous. I knew how to butter up Darren. So to speak.
I stood naked in the kitchen as the kettle boiled, anxious to get back to the bedroom because that thing was not going to go down by itself. Have you ever tried to have a pee with a hard on? You have to stand well away from the bowl and aim, and hope that you don’t miss. It’s an art form all of its own. Not that I am a big boy, far from it sadly, but as anyone who has ever had to do such a thing can tell you, it’s a challenge no matter your size.
So, tea and coffee made, pee achieved, I headed back to the bedroom.
What a sight greeted me. Darren, sitting up in bed with the duvet half covering his pert little nipples. I could see that he was raring to go too. I may be average, but there is nothing average about Darren I can tell you. They say that more than a mouthful is a waste, but I waste nothing!
So I handed him his tea, and we both lay in bed sipping our beverages. We shared a cigarette, naughty I know, sue me. As I watched him suck on the end of that cigarette, I pressed myself against him, eager for him to finish so that I could start.
“I haven’t finished my tea.” Cheeky sod, his eyes glittered with such mischief as he said that, so I dived under the cover and began my work.
Ah, youth, the first years of love. We have all been there, we have all yearned for them to come back. Funny how in those first years of a relationship, we are willing to do those naughty things that in later life become but fantasies, or fond memories, and God we were good at making memories.
I could feel his growing excitement as it filled my mouth, and I knew that if I persisted, it would be over before it even began. True to form, Darren flung me back onto the bed and worked his magic, his wonderful lips moving down my body until I could stand it no more, so I rammed his head between my legs and moaned.
Yes, I was loud. I like to be loud, and verbal. Those walls were thin so God knows what the neighbors thought, but at that very moment as his mouth slide down my length, I couldn’t give a damn.
“Oh, hello,” I thought to myself as he parted my legs. Darren was not one for topping, at least very rarely, so I bit my lip and braced myself for treat that awaited me. No amount of poppers could adequately prepare me for his size, and he knew that I would require some work before he went in.
I closed my eyes. The first thing I felt was something wet, the cold of KY jelly against my eager opening. It made me flinch slightly, the shock of it, but not half as much as I cringed as he inserted his finger. Without giving me the chance to welcome the first digit, he inserted a second, and I felt a rush of blood to my cheeks as my body gave in to the sensation. I made a noise, it may have been a yelp, because I felt his lips around me as his fingers did the walking, and boy did I see stars.
Any moment, I thought, he would withdraw those probing fingers and turn me around, and then the pillow biting would begin. Stars would explode above my head in celebration of the tremendous ejaculation awaiting me, crowds would gather in the street outside to listen to my cries of ecstasy, and flags would be raised in honour of my sexual triumph! True to form, I felt his fingers withdraw, and I awaited that gentle slap on my thigh that would tell me to turn over, but nothing happened. I opened my eyes and looked at Darren, and I swear I will never forget that look for as long as I live.
“What’s wrong? Why have you stopped?” I asked through passion swollen lips.
About the Author
I think that as I approach that milestone that is fifty, I must be one of the oldest gamers on the face of this earth. Many a day you will find me lashed to my PS4 enjoying a good session of Skyrim. Who doesn’t love a good session of Skyrim?
I love writing—I have done it since I was a child when I would happily write about the latest episode of Doctor Who (Tom Baker in those days) in my schoolbooks. Growing up and becoming a business owner with my friend Jayne left little time to pursue my dream of publication, but of late the desire and the compulsion to put words onto paper have once again dominated my life so that now, my laptop has become surgically fused to my fingertips.
There is something desperately satisfying about telling a story. My fascination with History, Religion and Conspiracy theories have, in this instance, gone hand-in-hand with my love of all things vampire, fantasy, sci-fi and horror. I drove my parents nuts when I was young because that was all I would read about in books, all I would watch on television, but they have held me in good stead, and long may my obsession with the subjects continue, at least, that is, until the day they put me in my own wooden box. And imagination is such a wonderful thing. I once had a rather vivid dream about David Tennant and the Tardis console, but I could not possibly go into details about that here. Let’s just say that my polarity was well and truly reversed.