A Third Very Dirty Dozen

Hank Edwards has chosen 11 more hot short stories previously published in erotic magazines and anthologies, plus 1 never before published story, for this third collection of short, steamy fiction. Settle in and get worked up over "The Arrangement," "Hydrant Duty," or "Men Well Met." You'll meet horny college students, a studly fireman, a hotter-than-he-has-a-right-to-be senior working security, and one heck of a sexy cub knight in training, just to name a few. Keep this third collection of hot, sizzling stories handy, because you’ll definitely want to keep coming back for more!


This excerpt is from the story "Sticky Fingers."

On the Fourth of July, I stood in the blazing sun behind the recreation center and supervised dozens of kids playing a variety of games. Another desk clerk, Chris, stood behind the counter selling soda. So far there had been no sign of Steve.

The games came to an end, and as the overheated kids left with their parents, I began to gather up the equipment and debris. Chris left to attend a family dinner and I was on my own to clean up.

“Need help?”

I turned to find Steve a few feet away wearing a white, gauzy shirt with three buttons undone to expose the thick, dark hair on his chest. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his tight, khaki shorts and at the sight of his muscular, hairy thighs and calves, I fumbled my armload of Nerf footballs.

He laughed. “Sorry, did I startle you?”


I blushed, feeling awkward and nervous, all skinny arms and legs. “No, I’m just clumsy.”

He helped me pick up the rest of the equipment as the sounds of the band tuning up in the park down the street floated to us on the humid evening breeze. The sight of his hairy skin was getting to me so much I finally ducked behind the soda counter to hide my erection and began to unhook the tanks. When I stood up, my fingers were sticky with syrup and I made a face.

“Yuck,” I said as Steve approached the counter. “Chris is a messy server. My fingers are sticky.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Sticky fingers?”

I blushed and looked away, picking up a leftover water balloon from a sack behind the counter and turning on him. Steve’s eyes went wide and he turned to sprint across the field, his ass cheeks bunching within his cotton shorts and his white shirt billowing out behind him.

“Coward!” I called and threw the water balloon after him, but it fell short. He turned on a dime to run back at me, his head down, dark hair flowing behind him, and I let out a yelp of surprise. I had just turned to run when he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me against him, my back to his front, and spun me around.

“No! Stop it!” I said, laughing and pushing at the solid muscle of his forearm. “Steve! Stop it! Put me down!”

He stopped spinning and set me on the ground, holding me tight against him. I felt the hard length of his erection pressed against the cheeks of my ass and my body took over. I ground my ass against his cock and we both moaned. I turned my head to say something and felt the rough bristle of his whiskers as he leaned in to kiss me. His tongue pushed into my mouth, hot and commanding, and my body burned at the places he touched me. I turned fully into him, our erections mashed together as I slid my arms around him. His back and shoulder muscles were thick from lifting tanks of soda all day, and they tightened beneath my fingers as we twisted our heads right and left, mouths biting and sucking, tongues flailing at each other.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, pulling away at last and looking around quickly for any witnesses. The field was empty, and I turned to look into his eyes, scared and awed at the desire I saw there in the dusty, failing light.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, his voice deep.