Dwarven Blacksmiths' Muscles Are Streaked With Grit, Raunchy Sweat and Overwhelming Masculinity E-Book

Gaylord Fancypants

• Herausgeber: Eroticatorium
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

There is no more sterling example of manhood than a muscle-bound dwarven blacksmith... And that's exactly why Austin loves them so much! But when he gets trapped in a fantasy world, he's got no choice but to feast on dwarven men of all kinds, worshiping every inch of their hefty, bulging, throbbing slabs of manmeat, until he can find a way to get home!

Leseprobe

Contents

Title Page copy

Chapter One - The Muscles

Chapter Two - The Ass

Chapter Three - The Snow

Chapter Four - The Mountain

Chapter Five - The Dungeon

Gaylord Fancypants Endmatter copy

Dwarven Blacksmiths' Muscles Are Streaked With Grit, Raunchy Sweat and Overwhelming Masculinity: An MM Fantasy Novella

Gaylord Fancypants

Copyright 2018

To keep up-to-date on Gaylord Fancypants' MM fantasy erotica and his fancy pants, check out the mailing list! (http://eepurl.com/drHK4D)

All characters depicted in sexual situations in this publication are eighteen years of age or older.

These stories are about fictional consenting adults engaging in taboo and controversial sexual acts. Nobody involved in the creation of this ebook, including authors, editors and models, support immoral or illegal acts in real life. Cover models are not intended to illustrate specific people and the content does not refer to models' actual acts, identity, history, beliefs or behavior. No characters depicted in this ebook are intended to represent real people.

CHAPTER ONE

The Muscles

Austin walked through the town of Levendale in search of a tavern. He was very hungry, and he was tired after a long day of walking. Levendale's thatched cottages and small shops were shaded by the vast trees of the Levenel Forest that surrounded the town. It was the only habitation in the vast woods, and the only stop on the long road traveling through it. 

The street was wide and lined with vendors in Levendale, selling grilled meat, veggies and boiled eggs. Austin could have stopped there for a snack, but he was going to need a tavern anyway, so he wanted to continue on and find one. They would have food there.

When he saw the blacksmith's smithy, however, Austin changed his plans.

The blacksmith was the sexiest dwarf Austin had ever seen. He had arms like tree trunks and a great big, yet short and squat, frame. He was tall for a dwarf, at nearly five feet, but he was still much shorter than Austin. He swung his hammer at a sword, sparks flying from his forge. His biceps worked like steam engines, Austin thought, his eyes unable to look away.

Not wanting to blatantly stare, Austin purchased some grilled meat (squirrel, he suspected, but he was too focused on the dwarf to ask) and ate casually. He situated himself to watch the blacksmith. No one much paid Austin any mind because a lot of travelers came through here. They assumed, most likely, that he was making a pilgrimage to the Grand Wallile at Palampir. 

His name was Graythorn Steelhammer, according to the sign out in front of his little smithy, which was a wide open shop only a few yards from a larger cottage, in which, Austin gathered Graythorn lived. He presumably had a family -- dwarves nearly always married in early adulthood, from Austin's reading in the genre.

His forge was out front, open to the air. He grunted with each swing of the hammer, the flames leaping, sweat dripping, steam billowing out onto the street as the heat's visible rays wafted over his hairy torso. The sweat that coated his beefy frame made him glisten from head to toe.

I bet he's salty... 

He had a perfect body, as far as Austin was concerned. He didn't have a Hollywood hunk's six-pack, like an action star from a movie back in the real world that Austin came from. But Austin had had his fill of that kind of man.

He wanted Graythorn, warts and all, his little pot belly and the gigantic beard with frayed tips where it had caught aflame, and even the coarse black hairs that coated his chest, extending sparsely all the way to the tops of his shoulders. That bristly beard was so sexy -- Austin liked hairy men, and dwarves were especially sexy because their beards extended well into the cheeks, more than any human.

Of course, most dwarves weren't built like Graythorn. He was just impossibly sexy. His hair was thick and black, long and wavy. It looked greasy and unwashed, which was exactly how Austin liked his dwarves. He could already imagine himself running his fingers through that hair.

Steam filled the air, obscuring Austin's view, because Graythorn dunked the sword in a bucket of water. He then placed it on a table. He peered at it, but didn't closely inspect it yet. He stepped away from the forge and took a deep breath. He wiped some of the sweat off his brow.

Austin was not from this world, dear reader. He was from the same world as you and I, dear reader. He had developed a machine that allowed him to travel between the worlds of fiction. He used this machine to find all the sexiest alphas he had always daydreamed about, from the covers of his favorite fantasy novels. Unfortunately he had encountered a bug that didn't allow him to travel back until he had satisfied the mission he originally set out to accomplish -- when he teleported here, he had told the machine: Take me to the sexiest dwarven blacksmith ever, but the machine has been confused about which dwarven blacksmith was sexiest, so it refused to teleport anywhere else until Austin had gotten fucked by each of this world's sexiest dwarven blacksmiths. It was a problem Austin was eager to work on.

Today, he was going to have Graythorn Steelhammer.

"Hi," Austin said when he approached the cottage. "I'm Austin."

"Aye, greetings, surrah," Graythorn said, his voice reverberating in Austin's ears. He glowered at Austin, who suspected he disproved of his informal greeting hi. Graythorn wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm looking for a blacksmith who can do some work, of a particular type," Austin said, pursing his lips and adding a feminine lilt to his voice to be sure Graythorn would recognize him as gay. Austin was not tall by human standards, but he felt tall as he approached Graythorn. But despite that, Austin was still small -- Graythorn was thick all over, with arms as wide as Austin's torso and a broad barrel-shaped chest that was plainly visible beneath his blacksmith's apron. He wore no undershirt, just the apron and a pair of britches that ended just below the knee.

Graythorn nodded. "Aye? Do not be coy with words, sirrah, speak what you would say."

"First, I must be sure you meet my needs, is that okay? Are you strong?"

He laughed. "You jest, sir. Of course!" He flexed one bicep, then the other and kissed them. Austin blushed daintily and motioned for him to do it again. Graythorn hesitated, then did so, and he allowed Austin to kiss and caress each bicep.

"This is how we evaluate a man's manhood where I come from," Austin said. Graythorn's sweaty body tasted like soot and straw, and a little of petrichor from today's rainshower. His arm was as hard as the steel he forged, but with layers of flesh and skin and hair on top that Austin sucked clean.

Graythorn frowned and furrowed his brow. He believed Austin that this was how a man might be evaluated where he came from. Graythorn had placed this smithy on a traveler's thoroughfare and had met many people with strange customs. He'd been fondled by both sexes before.

But they'd never licked and worshiped his arm like this. Graythorn stared dourly.