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Barry Lowe

Spa Trek: The Search For Cock


There are no Klingons around his ring


Zane has found his niche in life playing bottom boy to visiting intergalactic spacemen, be they two dicked, or just hung like a Callistovian - and that’s hung! (They make horses weep with envy). But all this extra curricula activity is affecting his job at the garage and he’s on the verge of being fired. His good friend, Bryant, the elongated stud from Uranus, suggests he relinquish his earth job and join an intergalactic bordello, particularly as Zane has become every alien’s choice as a one-night stand. Zane is sorely tempted when he discovers the establishment is more like a luxury spa than a backyard cathouse.

Besides, there are still a large number of space alien species he hasn’t tried yet. What has Zane worried, though, are the shadowy figures who seem to be following his every move back on earth.

eBook Cover Price: 2.99

Length: 56 pdf Pages / 9517 words

Gay, Sci-Fi/Fantasy, Erotic Romance

Heat rating: 4


Excerpt


I was having the best time of my short life as a space slut but it was impacting on my ‘real’ life.

I’d received my second warning at the motor shop where I work as a mechanic just days before, and my social life was in tatters, my friends complaining they never saw me anymore. What they were really complaining about was that my ass was not available to tap whenever they felt horny. Their friendship was no great loss. I suddenly realized there was no one who cared whether I lived or died, or disappeared off the face of the planet.

A string of one-night stands or playing fuck buddy to an army of admirers didn’t make for deep and meaningful relationships. I’d had a few short attempts at making a go of monogamy – not my style. The only man (?) – I have to put a question mark next to that definition because, in fact, he’s Uranian – that touched my heart to any extent was Bryant, the being who recruited me to the intergalactic life. Him I could settle down with; as long as he didn’t mind my having one or seven on the side from time to time. Fortunately, he didn’t seem the jealous type.

In the six months since we’d first met, I’d only seen him once more. We’d spent much too short a time fucking in the National Park itself rather than hovering above the earth. “It wouldn’t do to be seen playing favorites,” he admitted.

“But there’s lots of…guys I see more frequently than you,” I complained. I thought I may have been indiscreet mentioning my popularity, but Bryant squeezed my knee as we sat in my car afterwards to escape the chill wind outside.

“I’m a simple man with simple tastes,” he sighed, “but my family has already decided on my life partner. It was decided the day I was born.”

“Fuck your family,” I said. “What do you want?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“It always is,” I replied sarcastically, thinking of all the married men I serviced on earth who always used the same excuse.

Bryant must have read my mind because he stroked my hair tenderly, kissing my eyelids. “It’s not like that.”

“But similar,” I retorted.

I didn’t want this visit to be a total downer so I made myself perk up enough to convince him all was well.

“I do keep an eye out for you, Zane. I like to see how you’re getting on. You’re very popular. You should think about joining the Space Bar.”

“Become a lawyer? I’m not smart enough for that.”

He smiled at my feeble joke. “It would be much more comfortable for your trysts. Plus you could take control of your own schedule. And there would be hot and cold running water.”

“A brothel, you mean?”

“Don’t make it sound so sleazy.”

“It isn’t?”

Bryant laughed. I was glad to see him return to good humor. “Not at all. More like one of your Earth luxury cruise ships.”

“You mean lots of obese people over-eating in the buffet, garish design like a large shopping mall, and everyone over eighty?”

“Maybe I’ll take you there one day—” When I went to object, he cut in, “Just for a visit. They have the most wonderful revolving restaurant. The food is exquisite. Or if you prefer buffet…” I saw the twinkle in his eyes, “there is an intergalactic burger and fried chicken franchise although the burgers are from Venus and the chicken is from Mars.”

“Don’t tell me; they’re not exactly burgers as I know them, nor are the chickens.”

He acknowledged the truth of my statement. “The potatoes, however, are from your planet.”

“So I could live on hot chips?”

Bryant patted my abs. “Not if you want to remain popular.”