Holiday Greetings, Some Catching Up, and a Little Flash Fic…

It’s been a rushed few months for me.  The holidays usually are.  Between work, cramming for tests, and rushing to get a short story published by Christmas it has been a busy few months.  So I wanted to drop in to say I haven’t forgotten about you few loyal readers who grace my little blog, and wanted to leave you something that will leave you feeling full until next month when I give you a little snippet of my new short story.  Until then, happy holidays!


Face to Face

R. F. Lange

Is there a better way for two men to bond?

Face to face, sitting in two opposite chairs so close our splayed knees touch, our hairy male genitals on display for the other to see?

I can feel you examining my maleness and I chance a look between your legs, too. What I see shoots straight to my already erect penis and makes me masturbate faster.  You are already hard, your thick column of vascular flesh with its pronounced mushroom cap leaking fluids like honey from a comb.  Your testes hang like ripened fruits that bounce against the ring of your hairy anus with each stroke of your pumping fist.

Another part of your anatomy that fuels my cock.

I lean forward and stroke the puckered flesh beneath your balls with a single finger. You say nothing even as that private patch of male flesh responds to my touch.  You are the man I’ve ever felt comfortable to touch this way, yet another way for us to bond.

I am suddenly kneeling in front of you.  I don’t remember moving, and yet there I am, eyes transfixed on your penis as I stimulate the most intimate part of your body.  My face is so close I can smell the male musk clinging to you.  I know you are watching me, eyes riveted, awaiting my next move.  You know what I want, what I need when we are together like this—separated from the rest of the world by a slab of wood and a deadbolt. You are always willing to accommodate those private urges of mine.  As if anticipating them, your legs spread and I watch as your male trench opens to give me more intimate access to you.

There is something about the secrecy of our relationship, the closeness of it all that makes me feel closer to you than any other person in my life, including my wife.  Ours is a bond that surpasses most peoples’ understanding, which is why it remains between just us to.  Two heterosexual men lost in each other, celebrating male need.  It is the reason I say little and do so much, my friend…because what I need is you.

I feel the shudder that races through your body when my nose teases your sphincter.  My tongue darts out to taste you, stroking wet bursts of pleasure into you anus.  Your fist, like my own pumping hand, never stops stroking as you watch me lick your clean hole from the inside out, giving it deep, wet kisses like it’s your mouth.

You say nothing when you feel my pronounced tip at your tight opening.  You understand what I need. You need it too.  For you, your anus acts as another sexual organ to be stimulated, much the way you are stimulating your cock now.  I still remember the way you drenched us in male fluids the first night our bodies locked together, coming without ever touching yourself as my penis stroked you from the inside out.  You still get that same look on your face whenever I am about to penetrate you.  Your eyes lose focus.  Your mouth grows slack.  It’s as if your entire consciousness is consumed by the maleness filling your body.

You tense when I press myself into you, my engorged head stretching the ring of your anus around its pronounced ridge, making your own penis spit up a fresh puddle of fluid on the flat of your belly.  I lean forward, tongue dipping into your shallow navel to taste the salty syrup I’ve just caused you to produce. Your taste surges through me, makes me throb inside of you.

My face looms over yours and I dip my tongue between your sweet, cherry lips, offering you a taste of your own body.

It is all so very…natural.

I feel you relax beneath my masculine weight and I gather you in my strong arms, easing myself into you inch by agonizing, erect inch until all you can feel is the fullness inside you.  Your legs—so strong, so masculine—wrap around my waist as if you cannot fathom the idea of my sex ever leaving your body.  I feel your heartbeat against my chest as if it was my own heart pounding out my need.  Our eyes meet and I cannot help but kiss you again, invading your lips, suckling your wet tongue, tasting you.  No female has ever kissed me with so much passion.

You moan into my mouth as our hips begin to rock in tandem with one another.  Your hole is so wet, like a woman’s cunt, stroking smoothly up and down my thick shaft.  I pull away from our male kiss to look into your eyes…that beautiful face.

You have barely touched yourself since I entered you, and yet your cock feels wet as it wedges between our sweaty bodies.  Your hole flexes like a puckered little mouth sucking at me.

You are close.

You don’t have to say it. In fact, we exchange precious few words when we are together this way. It’s as if our proximity to one another speaks the volumes we never feel like we can say out loud.  But I know you and you know me and our bodies just respond to each other.  I can feel the muscle in your thighs trembling as they clamp around my waist, pulling me deeper inside of you.  My big hands slip to the small of your back as it arches off the chair, my cock stroking sharp breaths from your lips that lick at my face like the heat of a fire.

You come without touching yourself, flooding our chests with your warm seed.  Your hole twitches and convulses around my cock as you begin slamming it around me, milking me, throwing me over the edge.  My mouth crushes to yours, pulling your bottom lip between my teeth as an animalistic growl erupts from my throat.  My cock swells and pulses inside you, your hole working each spurt of my semen out of me and into you.

We lay there a long while in sweat and cum, the hairy erection still locked inside you unwilling to let you go.  You stroke my back softly, kissing my shoulder, rocking yourself gently back and forth on me.

I love you.

We never say it, at least not out loud, but I know we both feel it.  How could we not?  My lips close over yours, pulling you into my mouth again, feeling the way your anus responds around my cock.  I have to go but I don’t want to.  Not yet.  Life could wait as long as we were locked within these four walls.

“One more time?” you breathe, the words hot against my face.

You look utterly spent, and yet I recognize that need in your eyes.  I smile, kissing you roughly as I feel your fingers curl into the mounds of my ass, and I begin to stimulate myself all over again with your male body.

Is there any other way to bond?



First blog post

Hey all!

Welcome to my new erotic blog.  I hope everybody is at least 18 and has at least one free hand to scroll down.

My name is R.F. Lange and I am an author and sex enthusiast just trying to carve out my own little niche of the interwebs.  I write erotica because I believe sexuality is ingrained in everything involved in being human; whether implicitly or explicitly, sex is a very real driving force of the human condition.  I write erotica to show that, and to give readers a safe way to fantasize about those little sexy things we never talk about but that always gets us there.

Almost anything can be erotic, whether it be for us or someone else.  Somebody someplace on this vast earth is into that very thing that might make our genitals recoil.

That is why I do what I do!  I have made it my mission to bring some of those fetishes and fantasies to life in the mind’s eye.  Some of the things I write are things I would never do if I were in that situation.  Others come straight from my own perverted mind.

This blog is a place to catch up with the things I write commercially, as well as a place for me to share those stories I’m not quite sure what to do with yet.  It is all for you, dear reader, and any comments are more than welcome.  After all, we writers live and breath for our readers.  It’s how we grow!

To kick things off, I’m providing an excerpt of my first self-published short Z.  It is part of a string of books I am writing about a group of survivors searching for their safe haven in a world overrun by zombies.  It’s available on Amazon.  From the blurb:

Three years after the zombie apocalypse a ragtag band of survivors are finally nearing their promised fortress.  Jacobi Jameson is an arrogant, mouthy bastard whose only goal in the apocalypse is to have as much sex with as many people as possible.  When he is separated from his group, he must find a way to navigate his budding feelings for another man while trying to get back to his group…and his ex-wife.



“Fuck me Jason!” the kid moaned from the end of my cock.

My name isn’t Jason, by the way.  That’s just the name I gave him when I found the farmboy alone in the barn, shirtless and sweaty, tossing hay onto the loft above.  His name is Kyler, I think.  Or Kyle.  Sky, maybe?

Hell, I can’t remember.

These days you don’t get much in the way of backstory from people.  Poor son of a bitch will probably be dead by nightfall anyway.

I drove my cock deeper into his tight, smooth ass.

“Mmm…mmm…MMM!” the kid moaned into the bale of hay he was bent over.  “Fuck…me…”

He was younger than me, late teens or early twenties.  Tow-headed and ruddy-faced with a dark tan that covered his toned upper body and left everything below his waist pasty and pale.  His tight ass worked back on me with every thrust of my steely cock.

I’m the sandy-haired, scruffy guy behind him.  The one with the plaid shirt laid open over his hairy chest, dirty jeans crammed down to his ankles, and cock buried balls deep in farmboy’s sweet hole.

For now, just call me Jason.

After finding the old farmhouse on the edge of town, me and the others decided splitting up was our best chance to scout it out.  While the others took the house to look for supplies, I checked out the barn.  We’d thought the old place was abandoned.  Everything else in town was.

Apparently, we were wrong.

I leaned in, my hairy chest against Farmboy’s sweaty back.  “I want to look in your eyes when I cum,” I said, my voice breathy and raw.

My cock never left his eager little butt.  With both hands I swept his sneakered feet off the hay strewn floor and threw him onto his back on the scratchy hay.  My hips rocked my cock deeper.

Farmboy’s face was contorted with pain and pleasure as he stroked his cock with one hand, the other on the contour of my hip.

“Ohhh…I can feel your balls…so heavy.”

They should be.  It had been too goddamn long since I came; I thought I might flood the poor son a bitch when I did.

I slammed deeper.


My big hands held on to the kid’s ankles like he might float away if I let go.  The smell of male sweat mixed with horse manure teased at my senses—earthy, primal.  Our flesh slapped together like obscene applause.

I let my eyes glide over his lean, muscular body: boyish and smooth, except the trail of light hair from the “O” of his navel to the chiseled “V” of his torso.  His cock curved and engorged in his pumping fist.

Sweat glistened on his forehead.  I swiped it from his brow with a thumb, cupping his smooth face in my palm.  Our mouths crushed together, our tongues colliding in a host of wet sparks.

Farmboy’s arms enveloped my broad shoulders.  Strong, calloused fingers raked down my back and dug into the mounds of my muscular ass.

I pulled away from the kiss, bringing my big hand to the back of his blonde head and forcing it to my swollen right nipple.  His hot breath licked like flames against the sensitive nub of red flesh jutting through the tangled mess of black chest hair.

Farmboy’s lips were soft and wet as they closed on my nipple, sucking, teeth grazing maddeningly.  As if hungry for more, he switched sides, chewing on my other nipple like he did the first, making me moan.  Anyone who knows me well enough knows the quickest route to my cock is through my nipples.

It was getting me close…

“Jacobi, you in here?” a woman called from below.

That would be Camille, my cunt of an ex-wife.    You’ll recognize her by those expensive tits she’s sporting, compliments of yours truly.  She’s the one in the white, blood-splattered tank top. Fiery red hair.  Big brown button eyes.  And a resting bitch face you can spot from space.

“Up here!” I called down to her.

Farmboy’s ice blue eyes turned to saucers in his handsome face.  I slammed my cock into him hard, driving a low moan against my chest before he could react to Cam’s intrusion.  His eyes rolled back in his head.  I could feel him stroking himself slowly between our sweltering bodies.

“I’m close…” he whispered against my neck.

Then another look flashed across his face and his body went stiff as his cock.

“Oh…sh-shit…J-Jason…I’m going to….aaaaaAAAAAHHH!”

He came in a rush, thick jets of cum spraying across his smooth abs, his chest, splashing him in his boyish face.  I leaned in, licking the saltiness from his chin.  The taste of him was enough to send me over the edge.

With a primal, animalistic growl I slammed myself deeper, emptying days’ worth of pent up aggression and anxiety into farmboy’s tight ass.  Together we collapsed in a sweaty heap of tangled flesh on the bale of hay.  I glanced over my shoulder to where Camille was standing at the top of the loft, her resting bitch face etched with disapproval.

“Hey Cam,” I smiled, breathless.  “What’s up?”