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Preview from chapter one
Turning My Son Gay - Book 25
Sebastian Brock
Ash had been dicing jalapeños for twenty minutes when the beer caught up with him.
Nineteen of those twenty minutes had gone fine. That was the tragedy of it, laid out later for the record. He'd halved the peppers, seeded them, run the knife through them in perfect little rows while the rice hissed and the oil popped, and then his bladder filed its request and he'd wandered off to the bathroom with the cutting board still sitting on the counter, a man with no enemies and no idea what was coming.
He didn't wash his hands. He wanted that noted too, for the record, if there was ever a trial. He was only going to be in there for thirty seconds. He peeled, he pointed, he handled his own business like a man who had done it ten thousand times without incident, flushed, washed his hands after because he wasn't an animal, and walked back toward the kitchen feeling pretty good about the evening.
The burn arrived at the door of the kitchen.
At first it was a warmth. A mild, explainable warmth, the kind of thing a guy ignores on his way back to a hot stove. Then the warmth put on weight. Then it developed an attitude. Then it went from attitude to open insurrection, and by the time Ash got two steps into the kitchen his cock felt like someone had stubbed a cigar out on it, and his whole nervous system changed owners.
"OW." He grabbed himself through his shorts, full-handed, reflexive, which spread it, which he would learn shortly. "OW, what is, okay, something's happening, something is happening DOWNSTAIRS, something has gone WRONG in the..." He hopped. Once. Twice. The heat climbed another grade and his voice went up with it. "THE PEPPERS. THE PEPPERS, oh my God, the peppers are ON me, I TOUCHED the peppers and then I touched MY, I didn't wash, I PEE'D with pepper hands, who does that, NOBODY warned me about that, that's not in any cooking show, Rachael Ray never said ONE WORD about..."
He bolted for the sink.
The next four minutes were a one-act play titled Man Versus Water, and the water was cheating. Ash ran the tap and shoved his hands under it, then realized the problem was not his hands, wrestled his shorts down under the stream with a maneuver that would have gotten him arrested in a public park, and held his burning dick under the cold water like he was baptizing it. The relief lasted exactly as long as the water stayed on it. The second he let go to grab the soap, the fire came roaring back up like it had been waiting in ambush.