Because of a deathbed promise to his father, Elijah Peck reluctantly left his friends and successful career in Bridgeport to return to Willowby, Connecticut, the small town of his upbringing, in order to run the antique shop that had been in his family for generations. Now, in just the span of two years, Eli has morphed into a social recluse, isolated in what he believes is a stuffy, suffocating nowheresville. With no thriving gay community at his disposal, and with his entire existence wrapped around the store he never really wanted, Eli's devoted little time to his personal needs. As a result, instead of acting like a man in his mid-thirties, living out his own dreams, maybe even finding love with the right guy, he often feels like just another item in his shop -- a dusty, moldy antique that has seen better days.<br><br>But all that starts to change when a stranger moves to Willowby.<br><br>One night outside his shop, Eli has a chance encounter with Neville "Gray" Grayson, a wickedly handsome musician who's purposely left the bustle of New York City in favor of quiet country living. Eli is instantly drawn to Gray, and the flirtatious jazzman stirs dormant feelings inside Eli, reinvigorating his hopes for a brighter future. Not only does Gray make Eli feel attractive for the first time in years, but also makes him appreciate small-town life in a way he never has before. And Eli can't help but wonder if Gray's presence also offers the promise of finding much-needed companionship, sexual fulfillment, and perhaps even love ...

When the Jazzman Sings

A kaleidoscope of fantasies flickered through my head. First, I imagined Gray gazing down at me as I sucked his dick, and the way his handsome face might contort in ecstasy as he flooded my mouth with his salty load. Then I pictured him giving me an energetic blowjob and my own milk eventually dripping from his luscious lips. I squeezed my cock and scooped some of the pre-cum from the folds of my foreskin, then reached between my legs and tickled my hole, pretending it was Gray’s tongue licking and probing. I finger-fucked myself, imagining his cock sliding in and out, stretching me, claiming me, then considered the way his ass muscles might contract around my own thrusting penis as I barreled into him.


Chapter 9