by scavola

by scavola - a place to showcase my books, and for readers to comment / contact me if they'd like.

gay fiction written by a gay man for gay men

twitter: @by_scavola / / email:

(the'Duke' series and the 'ATL Engineering' series tabs above.)

Monday, August 17, 2015


I wrote this for a school project when I was like twelve or thirteen:

Born to Ban as Galahad,
the King of Bain was his dad.
He was stolen as a tot
and was renamed Lancelot.
Away he went with Vivian
never to be seen again.
The Lady of the Lake raised him well
and much blood he did spill
for he was the greatest knight
and he won every fight.
His equal had not been found
until he began to roam around.
He met up with King Arthur young
and a battle was begun.
They did battle from noon to night
until Lancelot met his plight,
but because he won with a magical sword
Arthur gave him a reward.
The king made him champion
and with him many battles won.
Thus Arthur made his first mistake
when Guinevere he had to take
to his new castle in Camelot
and he chose her to be taken by Lancelot.
And later when Guinevere he saw,
he fell in love and dropped his jaw.
This was true love at first sight
and his tongue he did bite
for this maiden true and fair
was the queen of King Arthur.
“What shall happen to me now?,
he pondered on his desperate brow,
“I’ll defend my king through thick and thin
but Guinevere’s heart I wish to win.”
They traveled on past church and farm
then Guin gave Lance a tap on the arm.
“The maidens in the coach so small
wish for you to have them all.
But to one man goes one wife
so help them to end their strife.
Which one of them will you choose
for they all have sent their woos?”
“My queen so lovely Guinevere,
tell them not to despair
you’re so kind, sweet, and cleaver
and I’ll love you for forever.”
With this statement he did start
a conflict that tore the king apart.
But this trouble was not yet started
until Lance and Guin departed.
They went out one summer day
to take a role in the hay.
In the middle of their passion
they were caught in a wizardly fashion.
Merlin reported this to his master,
news of this great disaster.
Boy King Arthur’s patience was spent
and away to the forest by himself he went.
He went off to kill them both,
his favorite knight and his betrothed.
He went to them and raised his sword
but could not kill those he adored.
They were sleeping, they were still
while King Arthur fought his will.
Into a rock his sword he thrust
to tell them he knew of their lust.
And when Lance awoke next morning fair,
he ran away in despair,
for his king had sought him out
and Guinevere began to pout.
“The King hates us!”, she sadly stated
and to the church she was now dedicated.
She became the sister of a divine order
while Lancelot fled to the border
for far away in a distant land
he became the hermit Galahad.
And in this state he did die
for he lived a sinful life.
Because he’s dead, my tale is told,
the tale of Lancelot of the age of old.

Sunday, May 17, 2015


Reclining in a wading pool of natural stone, crimson board shorts contrast his skin, fair with a golden glow. His near shoulder is tense, a cap of muscle. From his armpit, where his chest curves, his nipples are dots. His stomach isn’t too tight, only creased at his ribs. A thin line of sparse hair runs from his bellybutton, over the slight pooch of his belly, and into his shorts. His far leg bent up, his near leg sways under the water.

More man than boy, he’s more handsome than cute. A short mop of brown hair is fringed in curls. His sullen glare isn’t focused, more a reflection of his mood. Under his long, jutting brow, his lashes are thick. The tip of his nose is strong compared to his weak chin. His lips are soft and pink. He bends his ear to his shoulder and back again.

He fidgets, adjusting his position, his stomach flexing to a six-pack in a brief, downward clench.

His weight now on his near arm, a thick vein runs from above his arm pit to the crease of his elbow. His chest is stretched tight. He brings his far leg down, tugging at his shorts, and then brings his leg back up.

He tosses his head about a bit and sighs. He contemplates rubbing his belly but doesn’t.

He shifts his weight and pushes himself up, standing now. He snags his board shorts down as water drips off. He runs his thumbs along the waistband as he turns and steps out of the pool, the water sloshing. The top of his ass, peeking out of his shorts, flexes left, right, left as he strolls to a lounge chair. He kneels and rolls himself down onto the chair. He places his hands behind his head as he settles in, legs straight and open wide.

He takes a deep breath and sighs, closing his eyes. His thick arms and chest crease around his arm pits, the hair trimmed, natural but neat. His torso, long and smooth, is like a roman statue, but with the suppleness of youth. A faint line of hair runs down the curve of his belly, peeking out of his shorts. He drops his hands to his sides, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts.

He touches his belly lightly with his fingertips, and then rubs it, palms flat. His left hand slides up to his chest, rubbing back and forth against his nipples.

His right hand slides into his shorts up to his wrist. His shorts bulge as he grabs himself, tugging. He looks away as he begins groping in earnest. His left hand runs over chest then through his hair and settles behind his head, bicep bulging.

He gazes into his shorts. With his left hand, he grabs the shorts’ ties. His right hand pops out of his shorts to help. Ties loose, the Velcro rips as he pulls his shorts open. His left hand holds his shorts open as his right hand plunges into his shorts, pulling out his thick cock. He looks away as he strokes himself with his fist, his limp cock flopping over his thumb and forefinger on the down stroke, his scrotum stretching on the upstroke. His cock grows longer and less floppy as he tugs, his left hand rubbing his crotch. He gives one long, slow tug amongst the short ones, stretching it out.

His chest flexes as he strokes himself hard. He lets his cock go and it settles his belly to the left. Thumbs tucked into his shorts, he lifts himself up and slides them over his ass and down to his knees. His large balls are in a tight sack, a pale crimson over his lightly-tanned skin. A dusting of hair spreads from between his thighs. He holds his cock upright and begins jacking himself from head to root. His left hand grabs his balls, pulling them up and away, rubbing them, to settle on gripping them loosely.

He has enough skin to crease over the head of his cock as he strokes up and then pulls down taut. He holds himself still, pulls his cock back to his belly, as his left hand fondles his balls, the sack growing loose. He stretches his cock out, the dark patch of hair pulled up the shaft. He starts jerking, his hand slapping his belly, as his left hand wanders.

His cock is more rigid, his scrotum loose and wrinkly over two large balls. His left hand releases his balls to pool in his crotch, and wanders across his belly and chest to behind his head as his right hand continues to jack himself longer and thicker. He lets his cock go and, pushing down at the root, it stands as its full length. As he squeezes it with both fists, it turns red.

He works the tip of the shaft, just a couple of couple inches. He jerks so fast that it’s a blur. His balls, resting free in his crotch, occasionally rescind as he tenses. The head of his cock is swollen now, flaring out wider than the shaft.

His lips are parted as he takes shallow breaths. His pectorals are bulged into mounds. His belly is still soft below his ribs. He kicks his hips, his cock jutting forward on a curve.

His cock is now a long hard shaft that he jacks vigorously with a loose fist. His breathing is more pronounced with slight gasps. His legs squirm. He grabs his cock with his left hand, squeezing it, making it harder, longer, and more red. Using both hands now, he strokes the whole shaft in tiny jerks, his mouth gaped open. He looks to the side, watching something intensely.

Dropping his cock, he slides his shorts down his legs and off. He turns, his right leg on the ground, his cock poking his belly, his balls stuck between his thighs, his taint thick, as his left foot pushes up and off the lounge chair. He grabs his cock as he stands, stroking straight out from his belly. His left hand rests on his thigh, thick with muscle. A portable DVD player sits on a nearby table.

His breathing is in time to his jerking that shakes his body. He’s tense, his thin chest stretched tight along his breast bone, his biceps bulging, his stomach ridged with the curve and “v” of his obliques leading to the patch of hair between his legs that’s pulled up onto his cock. He puts his left hand behind his head revealing his full side profile with all its nooks and crannies, pectoral, ribs, stomach, hip and thigh.

His left hand explores again, from his shoulder to his chest, sliding down his belly to his crotch. He cups his balls, giving them a tug as he continues to jack himself. He lets his cock go and it sticks straight out. He tenses and it jumps a few inches, over and over again. His left hand behind his head, his right hand cups his balls, rubbing and tugging as his stiff rod bobbles about.

His ass is two humps of muscle clenched tight to narrow bands, deep dimples at his hips. He’s slightly hunched over, stroking, shaking, flush, his mouth gaped open, as if he were one big cock himself.

The head of his cock is shiny, backed by the ridges of his foreskin. When stretched taut, his cock is a mottled crimson with spidery veins protruding from the base. He whacks it hard, making fapping noises as his balls flap.

Relaxed, his ass spreads out full, his thighs thick. He sits down again, not taking his eyes off the porn. He reclines on the chair with his legs spread open. The fine, long hair of his ass crack runs up from his thighs and over his taint. There’s the shadow of his balls bouncing, then the tips of his balls appear and disappear, and then the whole sack, balls flopping. Huge balls in a loose sack stretch all the way down and jump up in a flash, over and over and over again.

With his left hand tugging his cock, he caresses the head with the nimble fingers of his right hand. He stops, stretching the shaft up with one hand and his balls down with the other, the full length on display. He grins, revealing a gap in his front teeth.

He gets back to work, jacking his full length faster and faster. His body tenses and he gulps air feverishly. He gasps and grunts as the first spurt of cum zigzags and then arcs over his left arm. The second is a dribble that lands on his balls. The rest is drips flung to his belly and thighs. One weak stream splatters his chest and rolls down wet. He continues to jerk, making the head froth, his fingers dripping with cum. He slows his jacking and smears the goo over his shaft, pulling tight on the up stroke to milk it out.

His grip is gooey as he strokes, rubbing the tip of a finger over his slit. His cock is loose now and ambles about. His body splattered with cum, he looks up, his eyes pale gray, and grins.