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Sexual Healing
Sexual Healing
Sexual Healing
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Sexual Healing

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Eric is trying to heal after the sudden death of his wife. His life in Chicago is clouded by the memory of her, so he decides to start a new life in Florida. He places an online add for help with moving into his new home, and hires a young man named Justin. Justin is more than he bargained for; a young man that is mature beyond his years, both emotionally and sexually. With Justin's help, Eric discovers that life can begin again, but that it must begin with some sexual healing.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherG Chantzy
Release dateMay 11, 2014
ISBN9781311068149
Sexual Healing
Author

G Chantzy

I reside in South Florida. I enjoy writing erotic fiction, poetry, painting, and dancing like no one is watching.If you enjoy my books - please take a few moments and write a review (even a few words would be appreciated). Thank you!

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    Book preview

    Sexual Healing - G Chantzy

    SEXUAL HEALING

    By

    G. Chantzy

    Copyright 2014 G. Chantzy

    Cover design by: Jeremy Taylor

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Please note that this story contains explicit erotic and sexual content and is intended only for persons over the age of 18. By downloading and opening this document, you are stating that you are of legal age to access and view this work of fiction. Mature readers only. Reader discretion is advised

    Sexual Healing

    I wake slowly, hesitant to open my eyes and let the world intrude on the quiet of the morning; want nothing more than to stay in this cocoon of warmth and darkness. My body doesn’t want to respond to the signals from my brain. Get up. Move. Face the day. I have no choice though, when it comes to responding to the signals from my bladder. I drag my naked ass out of bed and head to the bathroom, careful not to run into the boxes stacked around the room.

    I turn on the bathroom light, squint against the invasion to my tired eyes, and sigh heavily as I piss for what seems an eternity. My thoughts are tangled and confused, a mish-mash of emotions and memories of the past few weeks; the funeral, selling the business, moving to Florida. It’s been a whirlwind of non-stop activity, and I want nothing more than to stop thinking, stop moving, and relax.

    I realize that I’m done pissing, that I’m just standing there with my dick in my hand. I shake it, feel the heft of it in my hand, and have to think back to when I even had the energy to jerk off during the past few weeks. But, no time now either. I have a meeting with a guy I hired over the internet to help me unpack, move furniture, and get settled in.

    I desperately need coffee, but everything is still packed. I’ll just have to wait until I get to the meeting at the coffee shop. Encouraged by the thought of caffeine, I get my ass in gear. I shave, shower, and get dressed, and the entire time I wonder if I made the right decision to hire someone off the internet. I only had two people respond to my ad; an older guy whose first question was whether or not I would have beer, and a young guy, named Justin, who needs the money as he is travelling around for the summer. I opted for the young guy, but still feel hesitant about bringing a stranger into my home. I’m hoping that I’ll feel more at ease after meeting him.

    The coffee shop isn’t crowded, and I spot Justin right away. He said he’d be wearing a light blue t-shirt and brown hiking shorts. While waiting for my coffee, I study him. He’s typing on his laptop, smiling to himself. He looks friendly enough. I’m glad to see that he’s a bit muscular because I have heavy furniture, and don’t want to be the one doing all the lifting. He has close cropped dark brown hair, and looks like he can’t be more than 20 years old. He looks my way, almost as if sensing he’s being watched. We make eye contact. His eyes are strikingly blue, and seem to be full of innocence and honesty. He smiles, and then turns his attention back to the laptop.

    With coffee in

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