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"The GAY BUDDY story that STRAIGHT COLLEGE GUYS are reading! Find out WHY!"
AsummerofGuiltlessSexAMAZONCOVER by danthedanimal


www.amazon.com/Summer-Guiltles…
an excerpt from TPoD By Dan Skinner

Buy link: www.amazon.com/Price-Dick-Dan-…

I’d just sat down with my first cup of coffee when there was a knock on the door. I looked at the clock. It was just before eight a.m. I had no clue who it could be. Throwing my robe over my shoulders, I answered the door finding a young woman in business clothes standing in the hallway, holding an envelope. I didn’t know her.

“Yes?”

“Dick Fitch lives here, right?” she asked trying to look past me into the living room. I moved to block the view even though there was nothing to see. It seemed the thing to do with someone who appeared so nosey.

Those prickly cactus needles of suspicion started attacking the back of my neck. It made me realize that no matter how long you live with a closet case who dates women to cover his tracks, you’re stuck protecting their secret. I was, as always, on guard.

“He’s not here at the moment,” I said, cautiously.

She looked disappointed. “Oh Christ! I missed him, didn’t I?” she glanced at her watch, slapped it with two fingers. “He’s already at the airport. I’m Debbie. I’m the secretary at his work.” She held up the envelope. “He forgot to pick up his restaurant vouchers for the trip. It was part of his prize. I tried his phone but he’d turned it off. I guess if I was off to a sunny beach in Mexico, I’d have set out early myself. My mistake. I apologize for bothering you.”

I went cold and numb. “Prize? Beach?” I heard a disembodied voice come from me.

“Oh yes. He came in first in a contest at work a couple months ago. He won the trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. All expenses paid, all-inclusive resort. It’s a dream trip. I’m very jealous. These restaurant vouchers are for some very fine places off the grounds of the resort. The company did this one up right. There were three winners, but Dick topped them all. The other two don’t get these vouchers.”

My feet seemed to be in quicksand pulling me downward. I sensed the sinking momentum inside myself. I was unsteady and gripped the doorframe. There was a buzzing growing in my head.

I heard the words. I knew what the words meant. But my brain just wouldn’t absorb them. She was still speaking. Something about emailing or faxing the vouchers to his hotel so he could use them with his lucky vacation partner.

Somehow she vanished. My door was closed. I was still standing there motionless, but everything inside me was shifting on its axis. Bits and pieces of erratic thoughts snapped like electrical fire in my head. I was trying to put together everything I’d just heard because it didn’t fit into the serene and contented morning that I was having before I’d opened the door.

I looked back at the sofa, the cup of coffee on the table where the morning had started. It was astonishing how the mood could change in so short a distance. From that table to the door.  Somehow my feet took me back there like life was holding that nice place for me with a bookmark. Only the nice day wasn’t there anymore. Just me and the sound of myself hyperventilating.

Suddenly, I wasn’t in my living room anymore. My mind took me inside the plane, seated next to Dick as he looked out the window. I could see his smile as the city whisked away beneath him, carrying him to the land of blue skies and clear ocean and sandy beaches. Our trip. The one I had looked forward to. The one that he had used to encourage me to send my friends to him so he could win the contest. The beach I had rigorously worked out for. I had dreamed about lying on a towel in the blazing sun, sipping Margaritas. The beach he was headed to at that very moment. Without me.

I stared at the walls. Something told me I could tear down those walls like Samson. I’d be seeing these walls from Friday to Friday as he tanned in warm sunshine.

I thought: this is how people end up in prison. These are the thoughts that turn the meek into monsters; mild-mannered men into murderers. And it can happen to the sanest of souls within a few sentences, a matter of seconds. Happiness can turn to hatred in a few clicks of a second hand on a clock.

I found myself in the bedroom. The room I’d given up in my own home to him, ever the hospitable, unselfish host. I stared at the bed. I wondered how he’d laid in it for two months knowing he’d won the vacation. How he decided I wouldn’t be going? Apparently for those sixty or so days he had no stab of conscience about lying to me, betraying me; robbing me of the one small hope that had given me something to look forward to. He never expected me to find out.

How could I feel so much hatred, depression, and disbelief at once; like it was a rotation between them on a wheel turning inside me? From inside this demented fog I realized my hands were hurting and I looked down to my balled fists to see that my nails had drawn blood from my palms.

I won’t pretend to tell you I handled this in a dignified manner. I did all the things you can imagine. Said all the curse words, cried. Drank. Three bottles of wine that night alone. It was the grandest, most uninhibited pity party I’d ever held in my life.

I felt unstable. Hell, I felt driven insane by the things I was thinking in the depth of my anger. I knew I needed help. When I woke up the next morning I knew where to go; whose ear to bend. Someone who could help me because he knew me inside out.

an excerpt from TPoD By Dan Skinner

Buy link: www.amazon.com/Price-Dick-Dan-…

I’d just sat down with my first cup of coffee when there was a knock on the door. I looked at the clock. It was just before eight a.m. I had no clue who it could be. Throwing my robe over my shoulders, I answered the door finding a young woman in business clothes standing in the hallway, holding an envelope. I didn’t know her.

“Yes?”

“Dick Fitch lives here, right?” she asked trying to look past me into the living room. I moved to block the view even though there was nothing to see. It seemed the thing to do with someone who appeared so nosey.

Those prickly cactus needles of suspicion started attacking the back of my neck. It made me realize that no matter how long you live with a closet case who dates women to cover his tracks, you’re stuck protecting their secret. I was, as always, on guard.

“He’s not here at the moment,” I said, cautiously.

She looked disappointed. “Oh Christ! I missed him, didn’t I?” she glanced at her watch, slapped it with two fingers. “He’s already at the airport. I’m Debbie. I’m the secretary at his work.” She held up the envelope. “He forgot to pick up his restaurant vouchers for the trip. It was part of his prize. I tried his phone but he’d turned it off. I guess if I was off to a sunny beach in Mexico, I’d have set out early myself. My mistake. I apologize for bothering you.”

I went cold and numb. “Prize? Beach?” I heard a disembodied voice come from me.

“Oh yes. He came in first in a contest at work a couple months ago. He won the trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. All expenses paid, all-inclusive resort. It’s a dream trip. I’m very jealous. These restaurant vouchers are for some very fine places off the grounds of the resort. The company did this one up right. There were three winners, but Dick topped them all. The other two don’t get these vouchers.”

My feet seemed to be in quicksand pulling me downward. I sensed the sinking momentum inside myself. I was unsteady and gripped the doorframe. There was a buzzing growing in my head.

I heard the words. I knew what the words meant. But my brain just wouldn’t absorb them. She was still speaking. Something about emailing or faxing the vouchers to his hotel so he could use them with his lucky vacation partner.

Somehow she vanished. My door was closed. I was still standing there motionless, but everything inside me was shifting on its axis. Bits and pieces of erratic thoughts snapped like electrical fire in my head. I was trying to put together everything I’d just heard because it didn’t fit into the serene and contented morning that I was having before I’d opened the door.

I looked back at the sofa, the cup of coffee on the table where the morning had started. It was astonishing how the mood could change in so short a distance. From that table to the door.  Somehow my feet took me back there like life was holding that nice place for me with a bookmark. Only the nice day wasn’t there anymore. Just me and the sound of myself hyperventilating.

Suddenly, I wasn’t in my living room anymore. My mind took me inside the plane, seated next to Dick as he looked out the window. I could see his smile as the city whisked away beneath him, carrying him to the land of blue skies and clear ocean and sandy beaches. Our trip. The one I had looked forward to. The one that he had used to encourage me to send my friends to him so he could win the contest. The beach I had rigorously worked out for. I had dreamed about lying on a towel in the blazing sun, sipping Margaritas. The beach he was headed to at that very moment. Without me.

I stared at the walls. Something told me I could tear down those walls like Samson. I’d be seeing these walls from Friday to Friday as he tanned in warm sunshine.

I thought: this is how people end up in prison. These are the thoughts that turn the meek into monsters; mild-mannered men into murderers. And it can happen to the sanest of souls within a few sentences, a matter of seconds. Happiness can turn to hatred in a few clicks of a second hand on a clock.

I found myself in the bedroom. The room I’d given up in my own home to him, ever the hospitable, unselfish host. I stared at the bed. I wondered how he’d laid in it for two months knowing he’d won the vacation. How he decided I wouldn’t be going? Apparently for those sixty or so days he had no stab of conscience about lying to me, betraying me; robbing me of the one small hope that had given me something to look forward to. He never expected me to find out.

How could I feel so much hatred, depression, and disbelief at once; like it was a rotation between them on a wheel turning inside me? From inside this demented fog I realized my hands were hurting and I looked down to my balled fists to see that my nails had drawn blood from my palms.

I won’t pretend to tell you I handled this in a dignified manner. I did all the things you can imagine. Said all the curse words, cried. Drank. Three bottles of wine that night alone. It was the grandest, most uninhibited pity party I’d ever held in my life.

I felt unstable. Hell, I felt driven insane by the things I was thinking in the depth of my anger. I knew I needed help. When I woke up the next morning I knew where to go; whose ear to bend. Someone who could help me because he knew me inside out.

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danthedanimal
United States
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:icondehevia:
dehevia Featured By Owner Jun 2, 2016
I have no especial words to describe my admiration for all your pistures. Good luck, dude!!!! You're awesome and a real artist!!Heart 
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:iconsonicblueranger:
SonicBlueRanger Featured By Owner Dec 6, 2015
Just discovered your gallery and I love it.
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:iconspacecowboy91:
SpaceCowboy91 Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2015
Happy Birthday. :)
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:iconfiction-art-author:
Fiction-Art-Author Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2015
Happy birthday. :)
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:iconlakelandfl56:
LakelandFL56 Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
 I hope you have a wonderful, great, and fun-filled Fella Birthday Dance by Mirz123 happy  :cake: birthday  :party: with all your friends and family!
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:icontinaevil:
TinaEvil Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2015
Blower fella (Party) fella Gift (Party) fella's Gobbler (Party) Fella Heart Kiss (Love) 
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:iconluciferusss:
luciferusss Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2015
Happy Birthday! :cake:
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XelosTi Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2015
Happy Birthday! :)
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:iconvandersonart:
vandersonart Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday!
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:iconamasov:
Amasov Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2015
Very best birthday wishes! :party: :cake:
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