Sunday, August 21, 2011


A couple of nights ago, I took my blessed melatonin to sleep, and thanks to its somniferous powers, had one of the most incredible dreams I ever had.  It was  extremely vivid, and --in a truthful writer’s manner-- it was kind of scripted.

In this otherworldly dream, Betty White has died, but don’t be sad, she died in the year 2096, long after many of us. The thing is that she was --in spirit-- watching her own funeral, and I was there to make her go into the light. In a positively Hot in Cleveland moment, she told me, “But this is so much fun, all this people here to say goodbye.” 

Can you imagine her granny voice uttering those words?

Needless to say, she finally went into the light, and the character I was playing in the dream took more precedence in the events. I’m not going to give you too many details of the dream because when I woke up, I ran to my notebook and started writing like a madman. And the more I wrote, more of a new novel developed, and -- in that single sitting, I made four frigging chapters.

As my euphoria ebbed, I outlined the whole story, and I’m so happy with it that all other projects has gone to second place, because this felt like a revelation of some sort.

Here, the prologue is. As it was, it might change further down the line.


It’s not easy to be an enforcer for Afterlife, especially when you’re still alive. The Powers gave me the ‘gift’ of immaterialization. And I make these quotation marks with my mitts, full of sarcasm and seething bile, because more than a gift, this is a fucking curse, punishment for being what I wasn’t supposed to be.

I have to find someone who loves me, not father, mother, brothers or sisters; I’m talking true, pure, real love, and when that person is about to die, he must say that he’ll wait for me in the netherworld. Then I’ll be relieved of my duties as an enforcer and my fucking punishment will end.

I will live for whatever years I have left at that moment, awaiting my rightful time to die. Which is fucked up since that means I’m gonna have to spend the rest of my days dying of love (alone) after finding the one true person for me.

So there will be no deliverance ‘til I’m dead.

I’m truly fucked both ways, in life and in love.

Why look for love then? If I’m gonna live without it after all. Better, keep doing this shit as long as it takes and not even try finding the One.

Ah, by the way, I can’t kill myself to end this manure-fest.

My name is River Jordan.

Yeah, I’ve noticed a little cosmic pun in that too; the river one must cross to reach the Promised Land, nonetheless.  

Am I thoroughly screwed or what?

Feel free to leave your comments.

Saturday, August 13, 2011



“Good morning.”

His former master, and love of his life since the first moment, woke him up as he had for the past ten years --whenever they were not on a mission-- kissing the H on his pelvis, outcome of their experience with the Tiberions and exactly what prompted their confession of eternal love .

“Good morning to you too, love.” Wren caressed the lock of white hair, grown on Haven’s hairline amid otherwise blue-black short tresses. “Did you rest well?”

“The only time I don’t rest well is when I’m not in your arms.” Haven smiled, and that unrelenting fire --always between them-- surfaced easily.

“We have a couple of standard hours before we depart for Rigel Six.” Wren murmured with his eyes boring into Haven’s deepest blue.

“Should we call this assignment ‘going full circle before starting a new chapter’?”

“You know dealing with Dungbar will not be a problem for me.”

The same bastard who enslaved Wren until his twelfth name day, when Haven discovered him in a dirty alley. Now, eons later, after slavery had been abolished on the Rigelian System --thanks to both Light Bringers’ lobby with their lawmakers--, Dungbar kept a slave ring dangerously armed on the underbelly of Rigel Six, and not even the military enforcement of the system was able to overpower it.

Mistress Tegbreth, never happy with them since day one, bullied her decision through the Council of Wisdom to send them on this mission, not a problem for Wren at all. What presented a problem  was that she also bullied her way to foist novices on them. Twins, they will get as charges upon their return from their Rigelian mission.

Due to the nature of their relationship and the formidable team they made, the custom of apprenticeship had never applied to them, since this would imply an extended separation to focus on their individual novices.

Haven kissed Wren softly on the mouth this time, “I love you.” He trailed his lips downward, over chin, neck, pecs and abs, finally nuzzling the golden brown curls on the base of his cock.

Wren trembled, feeling the big hands rub his hips in sync with the movements of Haven’s face around his crotch. He swallowed hard, no need for an answer at this moment.

His former master’s thin lips grazed his cock head, humming happily. Haven rearranged himself to lay sideways, almost in a 69 position, his face still on Wren’s crotch, giving open-mouthed kisses on the rock-solid shaft and kneading shrinking balls.

Haven’s cock was a thick column, jutting close to Wren’s face and sluggishly oozing pre-come. But Wren focused his attention on the strong muscles of the other man’s ass, tracing with his left hand the hard and inviting curves.

“Hmm, love that.” Haven murmured, enveloping Wren’s cock in the sweet heat of his wonderful mouth and restlessly pumping him with expert fingers.

“You don’t want me to last, do you?” Wren chuckled, amused.

“Actually, I need you to last a little longer, Master Wren.”

Only when wanting to be penetrated, Haven called him master.

That sole thought almost made Wren spurt furiously. He moved to stand on his knees, without perturbing the maddening suction around his cock, and stroked with the back of his hand a hollowed cheek.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ah, his beautiful Wren. 

Haven had seen Wren change from a slender godling into a powerful man. Thanks to the Living Light's blessings, Wren was a wise master, and also tall and muscular. The little slave boy he rescued so many years ago for ninety-five credits and a loaf of dewberry bread, now inspired fear among evildoers throughout the galaxy.

Anyone might think they were the same age, except for the lock of white hair crowning his head, memento of a disturbing moment when Haven thought he had lost Wren in the hands of an enemy, a situation even worse than when H’rak abducted Wren, planning to make the boy his personal pain slave. 

According to the sages, they would remain ageless for centuries due to the pureness of their love. A love meant to be indeed eternal.

Haven raised his eyes to admire the impressive figure with long, golden hair, caressing his cheek, as he sucked the grown and succulent manhood with keen intention. The love pouring from Wren eyes --intact after all these years-- made every cell of  his body aflame.

Using the abundant fluids oozing from his own cock to prepare his hole, Haven released Wren’s shaft and positioned himself on all fours, looking back to Wren invitingly. Haven heard Wren utter a muffled curse, and he inwardly laughed, knowing how much Wren was withholding his own orgasm. 

The Living Light could not only create formidable weapons of destruction but also help to control your bodily functions for survival, or --as in this case, for pleasure.

Wren steered Haven's hip with one hand and teased his entrance with the other, rubbing his purpled head there. “Lay your chest on the bed, Master.”

“I’m not your master anymore.” Haven replied breathlessly.

“It doesn’t matter who’s taking whom, Haven. You will always be master of my heart, master of my body.”

Ten years together and their bodies were tuned as one. His hole accepted the invasion with subdued pain and a melting heart. He was Wren’s, and Wren was his. “Yes, Wren, I accept that mastership as long as you accept yours of my soul."

Fully sheathed within him, Wren pulled him up, holding Haven with a strong hand on his Adam's apple and ardently whispering in his ear. “Forever, Haven. We belong to each other.” Wren’s goatee tickled his earlobe with playful naughtiness.

“Fuck me, Wren. Fill me with your love.”

And as Wren began thrusting with potent rhythm, Haven felt the Living Light surrounding them, swirling and becoming one with them, enhancing their senses and transporting them to infinite ecstasy. Where both minds were a single entity; where they dived into each other’s souls with complete truthfulness.

Each one a Master by his own merits, they didn’t share a mental link anymore, and yet  --in moments like this-- the understanding of their pleasure was blinding as sunshine for one another. “So big, so hard in me, Wren.”

“Hard for you, my love, always for you.  The greatest aphrodisiac is your submission, my master.”

Wren took Haven’s cock and pumped it, without missing a beat of his sharp thrusts. Both were close, and the light surrounding them became brighter and brighter in tune with their incoming climax. In moments, Wren started to fill him with an agonizing grunt of release, stroking him in a straight line to Heaven.

“Yesss,” was all Haven was able to say as he convulsed spurting jet after jet of precious seed in Wren’s large hands.

They collapsed in a tangled mass of limps on the ample bed. Wren spoke when his breath became steadier, still on top of Haven. “I’m going to hate being away from you.”

Haven relished in the long tresses brushing his face, before he turned and whispered, mesmerized by the beauty of those eyes like the oceans of Radiant. “We’ll find the way to have moments like this. We could always send our novices to practice together for a standard hour or two.” He chuckled, watching the last adolescent trait in Wren, the biting of his lower lip when he was thinking too hard.

“I guess we could do that every other standard month.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of every other standard week.” Haven laughed openly this time.

“Even better, my love.” Wren laughed too and kissed him fully on the lips. “It’s time to get ready, a mission awaits.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Exactly two standard hours later, before they boarded their ship, the twins accompanied by Master Serin came to say goodbye. They had the annoying custom of speak together as if they were one. “We are going to miss you both, Masters.”

Haven spoke with one foot on the platform already. “Don’t give trouble to Master Serin. We won’t tolerate mischievousness.”

Wren admonished in a somewhat softer tone. “Read the books we gave you. We will examine you two as soon as we get back.” Both younglings nodded, and he turned to enter the spaceship closing the door behind him.

With a wicked grin on his face, Haven murmured, giving him a soft peck. “I’m going to examine you, at least twice, before we arrive to Rigel Six.”

Pulling Haven for a deeper kiss, Wren conceded. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

Sunday, August 7, 2011


I have a friend in Facebook, who used to be an adult film star (this wouldn't be important if it were not for the fact that the man is dreamy and was the inspiration for one of my characters), and browsing through his pictures of GayPride in Toronto I found this couple, Yehonathan and Lyrik.

Both dreamboats are Israeli, and I cannot get enough of them. Yehonathan is a singer, and Lyrik is a DJ and sometimes sings along with his partner. Since I'm a dancer, Lyrik's style of DJing is extremely appealing to me, and, of course, the dance versions of his boyfriend's songs are to die for.

Although I don't understand a single word of Hebrew, for an unexplained reason, I love those songs where I cannot grasp a word the most. Those who know me are well aware that I'm a big fan of Bollywood; thus the issue of the language barrier is not a big deal in my case.

There is something so soothing in Yehonathan voice that is not hard to imagine him singing in Lyrik's ear before bed, if the DJ had a hard time at work, heh-heh. Specially the song Across the Universe.

As artists we might find inspiration in everything surrounding us. Music is a big part of my method, and these two are really inspiring me right now. I watch their videos and cannot stop outlining stories for future novels. I'm reviewing NASHVILLE DREAMS, at about chapter four of my new intergalactic story (not going to put the name here, because I have an idea for it, but it's not the final one; then why spoil it?), and working on the outlining of BODYGUARDS.

What has me all charged up about Yehonathan and Lyrik is that one of the main characters of BODYGUARDS is a former Mossad agent;  therefore, I'm immersed in everything that is Jewish Culture fearlessly, and --again, thanks to Facebook, my friend Oren is giving me a Hell of a lot of good pointers.

Yehonathan & Lyrik are such a hot couple, and their interaction in their videos is something that you have to be an obscenely good actor to fake. And it's not even the sexual aspect of their motions but how comfortable they are around each other. Maybe, some day, I'll write a story truly based on them, something of epic proportions and with Tel Aviv as playground. You would not be able to blame me after you hear Waiting for You.