Literary gay erotica described as “finely tuned and feral”

I made an attempt at writing an erotic story that also functions on a deeper level. I’ve had some positive reviews (including the one in the title) and I would love to hear your thoughts. I’ve included a link to the full story (it’s short), as well as the first paragraph to see if it appeals to you. Thanks in advance for your feedback!

https://www.literotica.com/s/among-the-pines

Here is the first paragraph:

The boy was just eighteen years old the night the wolf took him; not old enough to be inside that fading bar, not old enough to know the weight of his choices. But eighteen is a hungry age, and he had fought that hunger as long as he could. He had noted the bar each day as he walked down the narrow wooded road that led from his home to his family’s farm. Further up the road the trees thinned and the interstate crossed over casting a deep shadow, and it was through that shadow, framed, presented like a gift, that Tom had first seen it. It had been there for as long as he could remember, but that day had been the first time he’d ever really seen it, recognized it in some vital way he never had before. As he stood beneath the overpass, Tom’s eyes rolled over its faded brown facade, the paint weather worn and peeling, and in his mind the pins of recognition and hunger and inevitability slid smoothly into their locks.

Published
Categorized as Erotica Tagged

My first erotic short story, 4.5 on Literotica with 25,000 views

I wrote a male-male erotic story (first paragraph included below), and I would love your feedback. It is very graphic but I think some of you may enjoy it. I’m including the links to the complete story hosted on my blog as well as on Literotica. If you like it please feel free to rate and share it.

https://kpwotton.wordpress.com/

https://www.literotica.com/s/among-the-pines

Here is the first paragraph:

The boy was just eighteen years old the night the wolf took him; not old enough to be inside that fading bar, not old enough to know the weight of his choices. But eighteen is a hungry age, and he had fought that hunger as long as he could. He had noted the bar each day as he walked down the narrow wooded road that led from his home to his family’s farm. Further up the road the trees thinned and the interstate crossed over casting a deep shadow, and it was through that shadow, framed, presented like a gift, that Tom had first seen it. It had been there for as long as he could remember, but that day had been the first time he’d ever really seen it, recognized it in some vital way he never had before. As he stood beneath the overpass, Tom’s eyes rolled over its faded brown facade, the paint weather worn and peeling, and in his mind the pins of recognition and hunger and inevitability slid smoothly into their locks.

Published
Categorized as Erotica