If you're under 18, then go on and git.




Thursday, August 25, 2016

The Jasper Soul Ch. 8

Copyright 2016
Bailey Bradford





Chapter Eight


Talk about a total mind fuck, that was definitely it. I stood, jaw dropped open, eyes probably bugged out, and my heart pounding so fast my chest ached. Fear drenched me. I had to be losing my mind, I had to be. I knew what I’d looked like, felt like the night before. I knew what had happened to me. 
My cell phone started ringing but I ignored it. Reality was too much for me to handle today. The stone in my hand warmed and I could have sworn it actually vibrated. The sensation snapped me out of my shock and I raised my hand, closed my mouth, and looked at the stone instead.
It was the same beautiful jasper it’d always been, at least since I’d found it. I raised it up and held it closer to the overhead light. The stone was densely colored. There was no seeing through it, no shards of light or even hints of it seeping through the rock. Just that same, steady, deep orange with a red tinge, the lines of black and blue striping it.
Maybe it wasn’t your average jasper stone—I’d done some research. The colors were an unusual mix, but that didn’t matter. It was still just jasper, albeit miraculously shaped and polished.
Again, the oval-shaped stone seemed to pulse. I shook my head, still staring at the colorful rock. Going back to bed sounded like the best thing for me to do today.
If my stupid phone would stop ringing.
I lowered the stone and held it in my hand as I left the bathroom. Rather than return the jasper to its usual spot, I held it and sat on the bed. My phone was ringing still, and I groaned as I saw the name of the caller. And the number of missed calls. And texts.
God help me, there was going to be no avoiding my friends on my birthday. Or, more likely, no avoiding going out to the club I didn’t want to go to.
They weren’t going to give up on me, which was, well, I’d have said annoying but it also made me feel cared for.
When the call stopped then immediately began again, I grabbed my phone, flopped onto my back, and placed the stone on my chest. There’d be no staying in bed all day, but I could lie there until I had returned all the calls and messages I’d missed.
****
Instead of the usual club, Artie, Josie, Mark, Andre, and Lola insisted on an overnight trip to Austin. We hadn’t been in months, and it actually sounded like fun.
With the jasper in my pocket, causing a bit of an odd yet smooth lump in my tight jeans, I was determined to have fun with my friends.
Artie and Josie had been a couple for a year or so before splitting up, amicably, which I had thought an impossibility. They were the only ones in our friends group who’d dated or had sex with each other. A long time ago, I’d wanted to ask Andre out, but never got up the nerve. That was a good thing, considering what a heavy player he was. Long-term relationship were three words not in his vocabulary.
He did look hot as fuck in red leather pants and a tight, red silk tank top. His dreds were past his shoulders now, and he had the prettiest green-grey eyes. We hadn’t been in the club, Sparks, for more than ten minutes before he had twinks all over him on the dance floor.
“At least he had a drink with us first,” Artie observed, raising his glass—a strawberry daiquiri, and he was unrepentant about it despite our teasing him about it—in a mock toast. “And told you happy birthday.”
“And gave you a box of condoms and lube,” Josie added.
“Yeah, it’s cool.” I hadn’t expected anything other than someone to pay my cover and buy me a drink or two at most, but no. My friends had paid for the hotel rooms, dinner, and had sworn to cover all my booze and food because, as Lola had said, I’d only be turning thirty once.
“Did you get your hair cut?” Lola asked Artie.
Artie, his eyes lined in purple liner to offset the pale green of his irises, primped and nodded. He was cute, attractive, but there were some assholes who would sneer at him and call him a ‘fem’, as if he should be ashamed of who he was, how he was. Artie always told them to go fuck themselves sideways. He was also a black belt in judo, so he could handle the trouble if anyone wanted to give him more shit.
“I did,” Artie replied, smiling brightly. “And I got a date with the hair dresser. He is so fab, and his hands, mmm.”
Mark thumbed in Artie’s direction. “He’s always been a hands man. Me, you know I like broad shoulders and a little bit of a gut.”
“Yeah, that last guy you dated was nice,” Josie said, pushing her long pink hair back over her shoulders. “Fred? Frank?”
“Fritz,” Mark answered, rolling his eyes. “And his idea of monogamy differed from mine, so we parted ways.”
“Wow,” Artie said. “He lasted like a month?”
“After we agreed to just see each other, yeah,” Mark agreed. “And he fucked all the waiters who’d bend over for him at our favorite restaurant. I can’t even go eat there anymore because everyone knows he cheated on me.”
“You could have told us this sooner,” Lola pointed out, scowling before she leaned back in her seat. “I’d have beat the shit out of him for you.”
She could have, too. Lola was close to two hundred pounds and it was all muscle. She competed in body-building events and all that. Her girlfriend Kara was a model, and they’d been together for a long time. If Kara hadn’t been away on a shoot, she’d have been there in Lola’s lap, chatting with us all.
“When will Kara be back?” I asked as I idly swirled my glass. The ice clanked every now and then, though I could barely make out the sound.
“Next week. Fuckin’ fashion shows,” Lola groused. “We’re talking about having a kid.”
“A baby, or an actual little goat?” Artie only came off a little snarky.
Lola flipped him off. “One of the diaper-wearing, bottle-needing ones.”
“That doesn’t clarify anything for me,” Artie said. “Don’t people do that with baby goats, too?”
Lola wadded up her napkin and threw it at Artie. “A human baby, you smart ass.”
I smiled, watching and listening as my friends interacted, and answered and spoke up when I felt the need. Slowly, I was beginning to unwind, and to stop the worrying I’d spent most of the day doing over what had happened the night before.
And the more I drank, the less I thought about Avery and disappearing bruises.
We went from club to club down Sixth Street in Austin, dancing once I got drunk enough. Somewhere along the way, Andre disappeared with a trio of blond boys in their early twenties.
“Thank God he got his own room,” Mark said. He looked around the latest bar. “Wonder if I could find a guy to fuck. Or maybe you and me ought to give it a shot, Matt.”
“Friends don’t fuck friends when they’re drunk,” Lola said.
“Yeah,” Josie agreed.
“For sure,” Artie added. “That’s just asking for some regrets ya can’t get past.”
“Who says there’d be regrets?” Mark slurred as he asked.
I was wondering that myself, though I hadn’t really ever thought of fucking Mark or vice versa. I guess that’s why there might be regrets.
“Have you wanted to fuck Matt before?” Artie asked.
“Sure,” Mark replied, looking me over and leering. “He’s okay.”
“Okay?” Well there was a ringing endorsement. I tossed back the rest of my vodka while my friends started giving Mark shit for that.
“See,” Artie said after a couple of minutes of bickering. He twisted and pointed to the left. “If you really wanted to fuck Matt, you’d have looked at him like that guy is doing.”
My heart pounded painfully hard again. Maybe I was going to keel over. I was afraid to turn and see who Artie was pointing at.

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Happy Wednesday! Daughter Amber Special Edition! ALSO CONTEST!


How are y'all? What's up in y'all's lives? Leave a comment sharing something about your life with me, along with a book on your wish list at ARe, and I'll use random.org to pick 2 winners Sunday night :-D

I've just spent an hour and a half on the trampoline with Charlie, and that is a workout, lol. Poor Charlie is not happy that her brother is in school all day now, but we had fun. We bounced until she decided we were done.

Now, on to the part of this about my daughter Amber...


The other day when I posted pics, I didn't post any of my oldest daughter, Amber. And boy, did she put me on blast. So, here are pics of Amber ;-P

Amber and a child
Amber in sunglasses

Amber not in sunglasses

Amber sniffing the cat

Amber and other people

Amber waving 'Hi' to westboro

Red Amber

Curly Amber

Amber and some random baby

Fuzzy Amber

Amber's art journal page

Amber and some people she met at The Equality House

Amber and something icky

Amber and more people at Equality House. Those sure are some cute kids ;-)

More cute kids that look just like Elijah and Charlie at The Equality House. Hm. How did that pic slip in here?


Now, hopefully, this will satisfy my oldest child :D Sorry I didn't post your pic last week, kiddo. Ya know I love you! 





Tuesday, August 23, 2016

The Jasper Soul Ch. 7

Copyright 2016
Bailey Bradford





Chapter Seven


I don’t think I’ve ever scrubbed my body so hard in my life. Avery was some kind of damn freak, coming so much. And he’d come in me, by mistake he claimed but I didn’t believe that. Not now. I ached all over, I was panicking about him coming in me, and being hit—You hear stories of guys like me being bullied as kids. I wasn’t, because I hid who I was so well, but later, yeah, people said hateful shit.
But no one had ever hit me, not even my parents. To have been attacked, especially the way Avery had done it, was just…soul-scarring. Maybe I was being too dramatic, but in that moment, with the hot water scalding me and my skin bleeding in some places either from the scrubbing or the fighting, I felt like I was never going to be the same man again.
They say violence changes a person. Whoever ‘they’ are or were, that statement is true. Whether that would be long-term like I felt it would, remained to be seen, however.
I scrubbed until the water ran cold, all the while replaying what had happened in my head, over and over. It seemed likely that Avery hadn’t been asking about my prostate when he’d been choking me and asking me ‘where it was’. That had to mean the man was some kind of damn psychopath or something. Was there a serial killer taking out gay men in the region? Even with the advances made for equality, I wasn’t sure the news would pick up a story like that or if the cops would look into it. Although, one of my friends was a police officer in town. He was straight as an arrow, but a good guy with younger twin brothers, both of whom were gay.
They’d been smart and moved away to New York city, or it seemed smart to me.
Then again, maybe there were more serial killers in New York. Probably. I shook my head. My thinking was scattered, erratic, all kinds of fucked up.
I did my best to clean myself inside and out. When I turned the water off, even though it’d gone cold, I felt like I was burning up all over. I got out and began toweling off, and when I glanced in the mirror, I froze. Everywhere that Avery’s semen had landed on my, soaking through my clothes, was a dark, purple-red. It hadn’t been that way in the shower, not that I’d noticed. Had I over-scrubbed?
My ass burned like fire, too. Inside, deep inside, everywhere his cock had been in me. It had to be a psychological response. No one had burning sperm. I leaned closer to the mirror. I had bruises on my face, the left eye turning black, choke marks on my neck, a busted lip, scratches…and blisters where there’d been some spunk under my chin that had probably gotten smeared there as we’d fought.
It had to be in my head. The brain can make the body do weird things.
I felt hotter by the minute, painfully so. It definitely had to be my imagination or subconscious fucking with me.
Leaving the towel on the floor—I’d deal with it later—I went into my bedroom. Each step was agonizing. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. “Shock.” That had to be it.
Despite how much I hurt, I found myself detouring to the bowl where I kept the jasper stone. I didn’t have a cat or dog to cuddle up to for comfort. I had the one thing I’d kept with me when I’d lost everything else.
The stone seemed to glow bright, probably another brain-fuck or it could have been my vision blurring. Tears burned at my eyes, which was utterly stupid. There was no reason for me to cry now. The sex had been consensual, though the rest of it had been unprovoked and unasked for, but I’d gotten away. I was home, safe. Avery hadn’t followed me; I’d kept checking my rearview mirror to make sure no vehicles were consistently behind me. Weird, I’d driven home in some kind of automatic survival mode.
Shaking myself all over, I picked up the stone almost reverently. It was so cool in my hands, smooth, perfect. The glow around it increased, coming from deep inside of it. I’d take this kind of hallucination over the burning skin and ass one any time.
And I did still hurt, but something about the stone calmed me, as it always did. Closing my eyes, I brought the stone to my lips, kissed it and sighed. I was a weirdo but at least I wasn’t a violent one. I didn’t believe in hurting others. If I found comfort in a rock, well, that wasn’t anyone else’s business.
Eventually, I opened my eyes enough to stumble back to the bedroom. I flopped on the bed, and still, I hurt in that weird way along with the places I’d been punched and choked.
But the stone’s chill seemed to slowly seep into me, easing back the fiery pain. Eyes closed once again, I imagined ice covering all the places where Avery’s cum had landed, soothing the burn, cleaning away the traces of his semen.
And when I dozed off, I wasn’t hurting nearly as bad, and the dreams of running through the Texas Hill Country with my boyhood friends were a comfort, too. Good memories, leaving no room for replaying the night’s earlier events.
I had sleep without nightmares, without waking, or tossing and turning, and in the morning, when I awoke, I noticed the lack of soreness anywhere on my body.
It was strange, but what was even more strange was, as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror again, the jasper stone in one hand, I couldn’t believe my reflection.

Every bruise and cut, every scratch and mark, was gone as if I’d never been attacked.