Bøger af Jazmin Starr

What makes gay men so attractive to straight women? It's a story as old as time itself: hot gay guys are great in bed, have good grooming, gym-toned bods and are as handsome as fuck. All they need is a bad woman to show them the joys of the 'other' side. The conversion may not be permanent, it may last no more than a night but oh, what a night! In some cases it may just be the experience they need to explore their bi side. This edition collects one to five of Jazmin Starr's hot selling Gay Dick for the Straight Chick series, plus Christmas Carol, the one that started the ball rolling. - all previously published as individual eBooks by loveyoudivine Alterotica. It may not be an instruction manual, but it just might give you a few ideas. Excerpt from Gay Dick for the Straight Chick 1: Straight guys! God's contraceptive. I guess I fell in love with Cree the day he stopped a gang of older girls from picking on me in the schoolyard over, you guessed it, my name. I was in tears, screaming at the girls to shut up. He gave them such a bollocking over their bullying that they ran off in tears as well. He smiled at me, his job well done. It was that moment I fell in love with him. I followed him around the school like a lovelorn puppy even as he and his friends attempted to shoo me away. I hung around the edges of their conversation for almost a month until one day they were discussing my favorite rock group. Cree and his best mate, Dion, were arguing over the lyrics of one of their songs and neither would give ground. From a few yards away I told them they were both wrong and quoted the correct version of the lyrics they were arguing about. The group looked over at me, probably shocked that I could speak or that I actually had an opinion. Cree beckoned me over. "I suppose if she's right we'd better let her join the group." There was a bit of grizzling from one or two of the boys but Cree prevailed - he usually did. When they discovered I was correct and had a love of many of the things they did I was more heartily welcomed although Dion seemed somewhat jealous of my sway over his best friend. I suspected, without knowing how or why, the two of them were also fuck buddies. That's how I became the official fag hag to Cree and his group. It helped me get through high school. I was still an outcast but an outcast with the coolest friends. Once they got used to me in their midst they tried shocking me with explicit stories of their sexual shenanigans but when I didn't rise to the bait they backed off. They weren't to know I used the images their tales brought to mind as masturbatory fantasy material for years, especially when they involved Cree. It was a given we'd all apply to the same college if not the same courses and, in time, we all turned up on campus. We went to parties together, bars together, dancing together, movies together, although I tended to go home alone. Cree and his mates were always picking up or buddy fucking while I learned everything there was to know about my vibrator. It really didn't hack it as someone to talk to or share experiences with and the satisfaction was only fleeting. One night in a dark, crowded club, watching Cree and Dion snogging and more in a corner, I lost it. I screamed, "Why can't I get fucking laid?" I thought all eyes turned to me but, in reality, the music was so loud that only the people in the immediate vicinity heard me. I stormed off to the bar to get plastered. It didn't help. Later, on the street after the club closed and while Dion was getting his car, Cree wrapped his arm around me. "Is it really that bad, Une? You not getting any?" I pouted. "Less than zero." "Aw, that's awful." He held me close while I sobbed my frustration away. "Hey, you up for an adventure?" he asked. "Does it involve me getting laid?" "Big time," he laughed. "Hell, yeah." That's how a nice girl like me found herself at an adult book shop the next night with a horny gay

It's time to be homo for the holidays. Ebenezer Spooge has nothing on the heroes and anti-heroes of these four tales of holiday cheer. In Jazmin Starr's Christmas Carol, the heroine decides to spend the holiday break with her trusty vibrator and a collection of gay porn. Things go horribly wrong and she finds herself inveigled into pretending to be the girlfriend of one side of a hunky gay couple. The price for her compliance is high: she wants to watch the two men make love. Barry Lowe's three stories complete the set. In Fifty Shades of Fey, one of Santa's elves gets himself into all sorts of trouble when he attempts to break into a house to read the Naughty or Nice Meter. He gets a lot more than he bargained for when he falls asleep in the dungeon's leather sling. OMG! Santa's Got a Six-Pack! is a holiday romance in which a twink comic designer falls for Mr. Perfect, an older man whom he believes to be married. This story's happy ending will have you reaching for the tissues. In Christmas on the Rocks, Steve and Billy continue their incredible adventures of raw, hard sex. Billy takes on a pre-Christmas job as a pizza delivery boy but, much to Steve's chagrin, it isn't just pizza that Billy delivers. Will their relationship survive? This one will also have you reaching for the tissues - but for a very different reason. Excerpt from: Fifty Shades of Fey "What am I going to do with you?" he asked as he paced the office. It was a rhetorical question. He wasn't asking my opinion because he would have already made up his mind what punishment was my due. The United Nations talks a lot about Democracy but what we have here is a dictatorship. Nick's an immortal so there's no chance we'll ever be ruled by anyone more benevolent, or that we'll ever get to vote on anything. Hell, we make the Vatican and the Dalai Lama look positively benign politically in comparison. Nick may have believed that his punishment fitted the crime; I found it harsh and unnecessary. Perhaps not unnecessary - someone had to do it. But it was a shit job usually reserved for the intransigent, the criminal or the insane. To give the old miser credit, he was slowly implementing new technology but some areas were still in the grip of the old-fashioned meters which required on-site readings, much like the gas and electricity meters of yore. Most of the world was now hooked up to Santa's mainframe computer that automatically registered each and every human's naughty or nice quotient until, at midnight on December 24, it spat out a list of those who were deemed worthy of Santa's largesse. I pulled my thin coat tighter around my body, fluffed up my wet scarf around my mouth and nose to prevent the cold from penetrating, and yanked my colorful beanie down over my head to protect the pointy tips of my ears. Sighing loudly, I put my head down to strike out against the buffeting flurry of snow. Why the fuck couldn't he have sent me somewhere warm, like Australia? I knew why. This was punishment. Only the worst suburb in the worst city in the world was good enough for me. While my older brother, Rudolph, sat back home in centrally heated comfort sipping his cinnamon-flavored heated red wine in preparation for the wearying Christmas haul, I put my head down to butt against the snow and wind that stung my face, making the fine hairs bristle on my chin. I cursed again, knowing that by the time I got back having send my readings electronically - if only I could transport my body in such a fashion - I'd be so buggered that when the alarm went off the following morning I'd have so much difficulty shifting, Nick would whip me to hurry along my transformation.