Still Life and Other Stories , livre ebook

Andrews UK - Frank Selby Roger

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20 pages

English

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This raunchy collection from House of Erotica brings together six rude tales of lovemaking and spicy sensuality by six of House of Erotica's top-selling authors!Don't miss out on this exclusive anthology of steamy short yarns. The stories include Catch of the Night by Roger Frank Selby, Still Life by Sommer Marsden and The Secret Plac by Peter Birch.

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Erotic literature

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Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	24 avril 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781782348511
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Title Page
House of Erotica
Presents
STILL LIFE
And Other Stories

Publisher Information
Published in 2013 by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © House of Erotica 2013
The right of the authors to be identified as authors of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Catch Of The Night
by Roger Frank Selby
It was the night of Two Moons Passing. This season only one boy in the village stood on the threshold of manhood. Jude noticed a different look in his founder’s eyes as he kissed the old man’s forehead and bade him farewell. He felt a surge of emotion welling in his chest, but managed to hold back the wetness that stung his eyes. If he passed the Night Fishing test this would be the last time he would dwell under the same roof as the man who had raised him.
The four headmen of the village were in high spirits as they collected him from his founder’s lodge and walked him down to the beach.
‘A long time ago a boy was brought to manhood on almost every Two Moons Passing, but now this is getting sparse indeed. A rare treat, lad! So don’t you worry, none,’ said Russ.
Jude hoped they hadn’t brought him to this to soon - perhaps they should let him wait to the next... No! The time was right - he knew it. On the way to the boats they passed the street of young men’s lodges. Last season he’d helped to build three new lodges in preparation for himself and two younger boys of the village. As the senior, Jude had already made his selection - The lodge under the great tree of yellow cock-fruit.
Russ saw his glance. ‘If all goes well, me lad, you can claim that lodge by sunup.’
The land breeze of the night - driven by the land cooling off from each ever-hot day - was full of the smells of perpetual summer as it wafted down from the heights of Mother Mountain. The men waded into the warm sea, their kilts spreading out over the surface. The warm wind helped them push out the Night Fishing Boat. This would be - of course - Jude’s first time out at sea in the big boat. He revelled in the privilege of being allowed to touch the sacred, weathered timbers. The great boat met the first big wave of the swell. The bow surged high as he hoisted himself over the gunwales in the salty spray - almost catching his cock on the splintery old wood - and flopped like a wet fish onto the dry planks of the deck, still warm from their baking in the sun. The other men flowed aboard, moving to their stations to work the boat.
Soon the great lateen sail - vastly bigger than a normal two-man boat sail - was thrusting them strongly down the wide glitter-path of the rising moons. Jude marvelled at the difference from day fishing - the strange, eerie light, the much bigger tackle, the huge boat ...
Russ - head of the headmen - looked down at the youngster, probably knowing well his thoughts. He seemed very friendly to Jude tonight, for a change, allowing the young man temporarily into the intimacy of the inner circle.
‘Much bigger game for thee tonight, young ’un!’ laughed the big man. The other men chuckled knowingly as Jude squirmed. If only he had something to do ...
‘Well we can’t have an idler in the boat, can we lads? Up the mast with you, an’ see you keep a weather lookout. Your young eyes should see anything twice afar as ours - see something to make them fairly pop, I shouldn’t wonder!’ The men laughed again as Jude scurried like a rat up to the masthead. As he looked down from his perch he suffered a moment’s dizziness. In his embarrassment he’d forgotten he was climbing a much taller mast - that swayed and pitched with a slower but wider swing ... Steady now, he told himself. To calm his nerves and his stomach he concentrated on the equipment on the deck - the wide mesh nets on the teasing booms, the large lashing frames on the fo’c’sle - all so much bigger than on the boats he was used to. A man could put a foot through that mesh. The teasing poles were as thick as his wrist at least. Just how big was this special fish? And what was the big secret?
‘Don’t look down, look out! Ye’re supposed to be a smerthing lookout!’ called a voice from the distant deck. The headmen’s laughter followed again as Jude knew it would. He banished their voices from his mind and scanned the wide, featureless sea ahead, searching for their quarry in the bright, doubled moonlight.
The two co-orbital moons would set by the time of the boatmen’s return. They would sight their island homeland when the first white-orange rays of sunlight from the system’s K1 star-sun picked out the highest point of a conical mountain - a mountain of partly corroded metal more than five hundred seasons old. Mother Mountain the boatmen called it, no longer remembering just what “Mother” meant. Only at the very highest point (away from the lower salty atmosphere) did the metal alloy still gleam un-corroded - a useful beacon to guide a homebound Night Fishing crew, when lit by morning’s early light. But once a far larger crew had landed here with no beacon to guide them; their vast starship, wrecked in that desperate forced landing, had weathered and overgrown to become Mother Mountain itself.
Hours passed. The two moons were now at the zenith. Jude’s straining eyes began to close from fatigue and the lateness of the hour while he listened to the voices from the deck below. The head men had been talking in low tones. From the odd words caught by Jude’s keen ear, he gathered that they were discussing the subject that now dominated all village life: why had there been no foundlings for so long? Since he’d been beached, only two others had followed.