Leslie Goosemoon is a rodeo star with legions of ladies fawning over him. Things are getting hot and heavy with Sheryl, the one-night-stand he picked up at Dorothy's Tavern, when she zips open his jeans and finds Leslie Goosemoon wearing ladies' panties--silky and red with lace around the top. By the time he returns to Dorothy's, the whole bar's heard about his predilection. Some laugh. Some call him faggot. Nobody understands him, but that doesn't mean Leslie's going to roll over and play dead. Hell, he doesn't fully understand himself! The best he can do is duck the punches and repel the spit.
Ricky, Dorothy's living-in-sin boyfriend, has a theory about the undies: Leslie dresses like a lady because he secretly wants to get with another man. That doesn't sound right to Leslie, but he has no counter. He doesn't know why he likes the silky feel against his skin. When Ricky gets hit in the head with a boot, Dorothy becomes mother bear. She kicks out the offenders and sends Leslie to take care of Ricky upstairs in their apartment. They all know what's going to happen next...
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-60054-548-1
lyd Category: Bi Line
Length: 9000 words
Ricky swung his head in so close Leslie felt the stubble prick his cheek.
Ricky’s tone was not unsympathetic when he said, “I heard you were a
Leslie knew how other men would react to the accusation—they’d smash a
glass, toss a chair, or throw a punch. He wasn’t about to do anything like that. First off, he felt a hole inside his chest that seemed to be sucking in everything around him. With all that happening inside, he had no energy to expend. Second, Leslie knew he was no faggot, so what difference did it make who said what? He liked pussy.
“Are you?” Ricky asked. His voice seemed strained with despair, or with hope—the two sounded much alike to Leslie.
“No,” Leslie said. “That’s what Sheryl went around telling all these people? I’m a faggot?” He would have laughed if he weren’t so on edge.
Ricky turned his gaze to Dorothy as she flirted with the boys at the bar. That woman got everybody’s hopes on the rise. Strange that Ricky never seemed the least bit jealous. Most of the men around here would fight a bull if he caught it looking his girl up and down. Of course, that was likely the reason Dorothy was stepping out with Ricky and not those of the bitterly possessive lot. Dorothy was slender, but she was a powerhouse in disguise. If Leslie could be a woman, he’d want to be every bit like Dorothy.
“Sheryl said you were prancing around in ladies’ underpants,” Ricky said, shattering Leslie’s focus. “She said you didn’t show her a very good time because you were…you know…” He paused to rephrase, tracing his fingernail across the bar’s natural wood grain. Gazing down at the patina, he leaned in so close Leslie felt the heat of Ricky’s cheek against his own. He spoke very softly. “She said you liked dick.”
Thank the good lord Dorothy was looking away and Ricky’s face was nestled in beside his ear—that way, nobody noticed his eyes growing too big for their sockets. He’d never considered the possibility. Not that he didn’t know other guys liked to relieve their tensions together, just that he’d never imagined doing it himself. He’d always craved pussy. From the time he was a young snip, he’d chased the girls and kissed their cheeks. Could Sheryl be right about him? Maybe she saw something
he couldn’t. Maybe he’d always been secretly drawn to ladies’ clothing because he wanted to be fucked like one of them.
In his confusion, Leslie chuckled and furled his brow. Backing away from the pool of Ricky’s musky aroma, he shook his head side to side. “Well, that ain’t how it happened,” he said. Aw shit! Now Dorothy was waltzing on over! Why was everybody so interested in his private life? Sometimes the scrutiny he faced as a rodeo star was downright deplorable. Sure, everybody expected him to be a ladies’ man, but get caught wearing ladies’ underwear and suddenly your name is mud!
Canada just got hotter!
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