Title: Black Mask
Author: Samuel King
Genre: M/M Romance, Erotica
Release Date: June 25, 2019
Cover Design: Erin Dameron-Hill
Charlie is torn between two men—one who seems unreachable, the other a superhero who steps out of a poster.
Charlie is the young, handsome writer of The Black Mask superhero adventure series. Recently broken up from his long-term boyfriend, he finds himself developing feelings of lust and love for his editor, the gruff, clearly straight Sam. Charlie’s love life takes an even more unexpected twist when his fantasy creation, The Black Mask, somehow becomes a reality—and his lover.
On the wall above the TV is a poster of my creation, The Black Mask. Sam had a limited number designed by a comic book artist friend of his. He’s sold about a hundred so far and I get royalties on each sale. The Black Mask is crouching, ready to pounce, his tight, muscular body encased in black material. He has bulging biceps, thighs and pecs that threaten to burst through the fabric and more than a hint of something else bulging between those thighs. How can Sam deny The Black Mask is at least a bit gay? And did Sam specify how big to make that bulge?
Although his face is completely covered by his mask, I feel like he is watching me, which I find strangely erotic as I unzip the fly of my jeans and begin massaging my erect cock through the cotton of my white briefs. My cock is big, at least eight inches, and uncut. Its purplish-red head is already poking from above the waistband of my briefs, leaking pre-cum onto my flat stomach. I don’t work out much, but I run and eat healthily, so I have a fit, slim body, even if I do say so myself.
I push my jeans and briefs down to below my waist and begin stroking my cock. It’s hot and so solid. I grip it hard, squeezing out more pre-cum, which forms a weblike string between my stomach and cockhead.
I fantasize about Sam standing behind his desk, massaging his dick through his gray trousers. He’s glaring at me like I’ve really pissed him off, like he resents how horny he’s feeling. Suddenly I feel stupid, masturbating over a guy that will never look at me in that way. I should be out trying to meet other gay guys, not lying in my room jerking off over a straight man.
I’m distracted by a movement across the room. I stop masturbating and stare at the poster of The Black Mask. He is no longer crouching. He is standing and that bulge in his black-clad crotch is definitely a huge, hard cock.
“What the—?”
Then he leans forward and his head and shoulders protrude for real out of the poster, solid and three-dimensional. Now the poster is glowing like a TV screen with the brightness level turned up to the max.
“Shit…”
He reaches down with a leather-gloved hand and begins to rub his massive boner through the thin fabric of his skin-tight suit. Incredibly, it grows even bigger, and it, too, is now solid and three-dimensional, bursting from the surface of the poster.
Suddenly my bedroom door flies open and Jules is standing there, still naked.
“Sorry,” he says, “but do you have any lube?”
I release a jet of cum, which spatters across my stomach and chest, drenching my T-shirt and barely missing my face. I look from Jules, who seems impressed as much as embarrassed, back to the poster. The Black Mask is crouching again and the poster is just a poster.
“Wow,” says Jules. “Something certainly got you horny. You should have just joined us.”
I’m so shocked by what has just happened that I don’t even bother trying to cover my cum-soaked body, despite the fact that Jules is still standing in my bedroom doorway waiting for a response to his request. When I glance back at him, I notice he is fully hard and tugging on his balls.
Although his face is completely covered by his mask, I feel like he is watching me, which I find strangely erotic as I unzip the fly of my jeans and begin massaging my erect cock through the cotton of my white briefs. My cock is big, at least eight inches, and uncut. Its purplish-red head is already poking from above the waistband of my briefs, leaking pre-cum onto my flat stomach. I don’t work out much, but I run and eat healthily, so I have a fit, slim body, even if I do say so myself.
I push my jeans and briefs down to below my waist and begin stroking my cock. It’s hot and so solid. I grip it hard, squeezing out more pre-cum, which forms a weblike string between my stomach and cockhead.
I fantasize about Sam standing behind his desk, massaging his dick through his gray trousers. He’s glaring at me like I’ve really pissed him off, like he resents how horny he’s feeling. Suddenly I feel stupid, masturbating over a guy that will never look at me in that way. I should be out trying to meet other gay guys, not lying in my room jerking off over a straight man.
I’m distracted by a movement across the room. I stop masturbating and stare at the poster of The Black Mask. He is no longer crouching. He is standing and that bulge in his black-clad crotch is definitely a huge, hard cock.
“What the—?”
Then he leans forward and his head and shoulders protrude for real out of the poster, solid and three-dimensional. Now the poster is glowing like a TV screen with the brightness level turned up to the max.
“Shit…”
He reaches down with a leather-gloved hand and begins to rub his massive boner through the thin fabric of his skin-tight suit. Incredibly, it grows even bigger, and it, too, is now solid and three-dimensional, bursting from the surface of the poster.Suddenly my bedroom door flies open and Jules is standing there, still naked.
“Sorry,” he says, “but do you have any lube?”
I release a jet of cum, which spatters across my stomach and chest, drenching my T-shirt and barely missing my face. I look from Jules, who seems impressed as much as embarrassed, back to the poster. The Black Mask is crouching again and the poster is just a poster.
“Wow,” says Jules. “Something certainly got you horny. You should have just joined us.”
I’m so shocked by what has just happened that I don’t even bother trying to cover my cum-soaked body, despite the fact that Jules is still standing in my bedroom doorway waiting for a response to his request. When I glance back at him, I notice he is fully hard and tugging on his balls.
Samuel King is London born and bred, and spent his twenties and thirties hanging out on the London gay scene, mixing with some true characters and even finding romance on a few occasions. Now more likely to be found eating in a nice restaurant on a Saturday night than clubbing, he also enjoys reading across many genres, and watching films—especially old horror films and romantic comedies. He is also the author of Male Male erotic romance, Hard Lessons, available from Pride Publishing from 1 October.
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