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Wanted: Fake boyfriend. Paid Position.


ROMANCE. Wealthy, clueless college jock himbo, Jerrod Spicer, will do anything to make his cheating boyfriend, Kyle, jealous even down to messing with the affection of nerdish Colm Bransfield, one of his biggest fans, all under the eye of bitchy gossip columnist, Cicely Trublood. Colm needs money for his college fees and Jerrod is prepared to pay handsomely, at least in cash, for Colm to pretend to be his rebound boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong?


Beauty and the Leased

Excerpt:

He was the most handsome man I had ever seen, while I’m what you’d probably describe as plain or unprepossessing. No matter, it was me who made him scream like he wanted to bring the roof down. He wasn’t faking it either.

“I left the cash in the usual spot,” Jerrod said as he came back from the bathroom, his damp dark hair coyly hanging over his tanned face, now scrubbed clean of my sticky warm spunk. Given the opportunity, I could stare at this man all day. Unbelievable that I’d just had those perfect lips pressed to mine, that hard, muscular body bent beneath me as I ploughed his taut bubble butt. My body, still naked under the sheet, was…stocky. Yeah, that’s another word for overweight. Just slightly. My muscles were hardly the stuff of anyone’s wet dreams. My face is so ordinary that if I lost it, it would be weeks before anyone even noticed. No one would go searching Lost and Found to get it back.

I must be the luckiest guy in the world. Somewhere in my youth and childhood, as Julie Andrews sang, I must have done something good.

In case you’re wondering if you read Jerrod’s comment correctly, let me reveal that, yes, you did. Jerrod Spicer was paying me for sex. Not the other way round. There was no need for him to pay anyone; people were lining up to bed him: all ages, genders, nationalities, religious affiliations, political persuasions. In fact, just about anyone who was still breathing, although I’m sure had zombies existed they’d get hard for Jerrod as well.

Pity it was a commercial transaction. I never wanted it this way. Still didn’t, but if it was the secret to getting Jerrod Spicer to bed, then so be it. Didn’t mean I had to like it. See, I loved him. Had done all through college but he was so far above me in every department, no way would he ever reciprocate. In those days, he didn’t even notice me. I wasn’t a jock, or even a particularly bright scholar, just one of those inconsequential mid-range students who walk the campus invisible to all except his closest friends, and I had few enough of those.

I’d been fucking Jerrod, jock extraordinaire, most popular guy in college, the student most likely to become president, for weeks now. Dreams don’t get any better than that.

It didn’t start out as a sexual arrangement – far from it. That happened by accident. I have Jerrod’s previous boyfriend, Kyle, to thank for moving our relationship up a notch. He’d be spewing if he realized that through one stupid action he’d inadvertently accomplished for me what I had a snowball’s chance in hell of accomplishing on my own.

But you want to know how it all happened. From the beginning. Deep breath. Well, I’d been a member of the (unofficial and gay) Jerrod Spicer Fan Club since I’d first arrived at college and noticed him across a crowded campus. He was so handsome, so fit, so charismatic that I stopped dead in my tracks forcing other students to walk around me while I gawked at his ‘perfectness’. I was smitten. I knew in my heart he was meant for me – okay, too much Disney in childhood fucks with your head. I also discovered he was from town royalty: grandson of the acknowledged matriarch of the town. Shit! Not only was he gorgeous, talented, sporty, and droolworthy, he was also wealthy and privileged. That was a lethal combination. The surprise was that Jerrod was down-to-earth, friendly, and not so far up his own fundament that he didn’t have time to acknowledge his fans.

During football practice, we all-male admirers would sit into the darkened stands to watch Jerrod run through his paces with the other members of the team. There were usually about a dozen footie tragics besides us, mainly campus newspaper sports reporters or opposition team spies, as well as a smattering of cheer leaders and players’ girlfriends. I happily admit I had absolutely no interest in the game, its rules, or its outcomes. I was there to watch my idol, my cock straining to escape the confines of my jeans as I soaked up the image of Jerrod in tight shorts, wishing it was me in the pack with all those ripped guys, hugging my arm around Jerrod’s muscular shoulder.

Damn! I almost blew in my briefs just thinking about it.

If I saved my admiration for one man out on the grass, I focused my hatred for another of the players: Kyle Jenner. If Jerrod was the most beautiful man in the entire university, then Kyle ran a very close second. They both played for the same team, both achieved high marks scholastically, although in different fields of study, and they were an item. One was out and proud, the other was sort of out and less than proud, but they were doin’ it – to each other.

I could have put my dislike of Kyle to one side if the lovers had wanted me to be the meat in the sandwich. Never gonna happen! Besides, Kyle was Grade A. A standing for asshole. Whereas Jerrod was open and friendly, Kyle was secretive and taciturn and, rumor had it, playing around on the side unbeknown to Jerrod.

Unbeknown no longer, it seemed. We Jerrodophiles seated in the bleachers were witness to the break-up. Even the campus newspaper gossip reporter was there to watch the fireworks. Cicely Trublood (not her real name), kept her identity secret, lodging her stories anonymously in order to minimize the possibility of legal threats and/or physical violence. Her items were always scrupulously true even if not always in the public-need-to-know category, and always sufficiently salacious that it was the first page to which readers turned when they picked up the stuffy student newspaper. Although she didn’t always name names, most people could easily guess the identities of the targeted subjects of the gossip.


eBook ISBN 978-1-911478-18-8  

Cover Price: 2.99/

Length: 129pdf pages/24435words

Gay Fiction, Romance