Wilde Oats is an online literary magazine. It celebrates gay and bisexual fiction. It embraces the joys and agonies of life for gay and bisexual men, from hard gritty realism to wild flights of romantic fantasy.

Wilde Oats has gone through some big changes in recent months: we have moved to a new server and changed our appearance. The journal is published three times a year - in April, August and December. Between issues, you can find out what's happening, read snippets of new stories, see new artwork, and keep up to date by visiting us here.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

EXCERPT: Fat Faggots Offer Drugs for Sex. by Thomas Kearnes

Artwork by Kit Moss
 Not every gay story is glamorous.  Sometimes a guy needs to make do with what he can get.  Sometimes he gets more than he could hope for.


Dewey gazed dumbly at the baggie he held. He and Margene certainly could use the cash. Dewey, however, possessed so little imagination he couldn't fathom life if dealing drugs became his second career. He couldn't imagine anything better than what fate God had coldly tossed in his lap. Margene would want him to walk two miles for more Virginia Slims once Christopher left.

Impatient, Christopher snatched both the baggie and the pipe. "I told you," he said, "I'm on a tight schedule."

"We won't need to smoke it all," Dewey said too quickly. "It's strong stuff. You can take the rest home like I promised." He paused. "Does your girlfriend smoke it, too?"

"I thought you hadn't tried this."

Dewey's heart dropped into his stomach. He felt himself sinking onto the bed, his head bowed like a puppy gruffly disciplined for pissing inside the house. Now he knows I'm a liar, Dewey thought. Nobody likes liars. Dewey summoned the courage to glance at Christopher and was relieved to discover his guest ignoring him, too busy loading the pipe with a fat white crystal.

Dewey pretended he hadn't been caught. To his relief, Christopher pocketed the baggie after finishing the bowl and produced a disposable lighter. Dewey watched in rapture as the immense and bright rolls of white smoke escaped his lips. He had always found it deeply erotic to watch men expel crystal meth smoke. He liked to imagine those same mouths ravenous for his own ignored cock. The last man who had sucked him off was so inept that Dewey developed a rash from the irritation.
 Christopher took five hits from the pipe before offering it to Dewey, but Dewey didn't mind. After all, Christopher was under no obligation to share. One or two of the men Dewey had serviced hadn't shared at all. Dewey took an enormous hit, sucking on the stem until gasping for breath. He exhaled an endless procession of white smoke, and Christopher chuckled. "Damn impressive, big boy," he said.

"I can do a lot of cool shit with my mouth."

"Let me see that pipe again."

They passed it back in forth, Christopher always taking more hits than Dewey on each rotation. They finished the first bowl and began another. Once that bowl was cashed, Dewey succumbed to the sensation of floating atop a jet stream, fluttering over the continent. For a moment, he forgot Christopher stood before him. The sound of a zipper opening slapped him back to reality. There was the business of the blowjob.

"Get on your knees, big boy," Christopher said with surprising softness. "It's what you want, right?"

"I'm an expert at getting guys off."

"Like I said, you fat boys are the best-kept secret on the internet."

Dewey couldn't understand why no matter how differently his tricks behaved, the experience of sucking their dicks never changed. Soon after beginning, Dewey lost himself in a torrent of silent commands and stern warnings of how devastating it would feel to fail the man in his mouth. (There was no ecstasy until Dewey deluded himself into believing, as always, that sexual subservience all alone can bring one joy.)

Christopher actually warned him before he came. Dewey slipped the man's erect cock from his mouth and let the semen splatter his face. Dewey excused himself and quickly washed his face in the bathroom. He didn't want to return and find the bedroom empty, as if the encounter had occurred solely in his imagination. When he did return, he found Christopher lying on his back atop the bed. He wasn't relaxed, though. Dewey noticed the tension in his limbs, his jaw. He dreaded this part of each encounter with a new man.

READ the entire story at Wilde Oats.

About the author

Thomas Kearnes is a 35-year-old author from East Texas. He is an atheist and an Eagle Scout. Despite often writing about gay themes, he has enjoyed mainstream success in venues such as PANK, Storyglossia, SmokeLong Quarterly, Night Train, JMWW Journal, Word Riot, Eclectica, wigleaf, 3 AM Magazine, Prick of the Spindle, Underground Voices and elsewhere. He has also maintained a presence in the gay literary scene with appearances in Blithe House Quarterly, Velvet Mafia, Gay Flash Fiction, Harrington's Gay Men's Literary Quarterly, Cleis Press anthologies, Pink Narcissus Press, ManLoveRomance Press and the much-anticipated debut issue of Educe Journal. He is a columnist for Flash Fiction Chronicles and a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee. He is currently on work at a personal website that will archive his published works. Until then, he can be contacted at trkearnes@yahoo.com  or through Facebook. He loves hearing from readers

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