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Authors: Barry Lowe

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Guys and Trolls

BOOK: Guys and Trolls
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Guys and Trolls
by Barry Lowe


Copyright ©2010 by Barry Lowe

First published in 2010, 2010


NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.


Guys and Trolls

About The Author

Other LYD Titles

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Scanning, uploading and/or distribution of this book via the Internet, print, audio recordings or any other means without the permission of the Publisher is illegal and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and characters are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

Guys and Trolls

Copyright(C)2010 Barry Lowe

ISBN 978-1-60054-584-9

His and His Kisses Edition

Cover art and design by Dawne Dominique

All rights reserved. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation

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Published by

loveyoudivine Alterotica 2010

Find us on the World Wide Web at

Guys and Trolls


Barry Lowe

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He was a crying, talking, sleeping, walking, living troll!

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Guys and Trolls

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Einarr was pissed. He'd been very rudely woken from a very long slumber in which his dreams had just been getting to the interesting bit, to find himself catapulted about five miles into the air. He was now plummeting to earth at a bone-shattering speed that would end with him somewhere in the icy North Atlantic. It wasn't the brutal awakening or the unexpected propulsion into the air, after all he liked travel, it wasn't even the scorched underpants he found as his only article of clothing or even his singed testicles that were flapping obscenely in the breeze. No, it was that unlike most trolls, he hated being in water over his head.

On his downward trajectory, he had time to admire the beauty of Eyjafjallajokull's eruption. The beautiful exploding palate of reds, oranges, yellows, greens and blues reflected in his large black eyes, and the eerie lightning fingers clawing the inky dark sulphurous clouds.

He wondered what year it was now, he'd last been awakened in the early 1820s. Sadly, his bedside clock with its millennia calendar that automatically allowed for leap years had probably gone up in flames along with his bed and all his soft furnishings. He hoped his insurance would cover it, but he guessed it wouldn't. Those insurance gnomes were tight-fisted bastards.

Being the guardian of one of Iceland's myriad volcanoes was tedious work. Okay, the pay and conditions were not the greatest but how many jobs paid you to sit round on your ass for hundreds of years with nothing much to do except monitor the temperature of the mountain god and make sure the fever doesn't take hold. When it did, whoa, stand out of the way or get your toes severely burned. Einarr looked down and cursed. He was going to need one helluva pedicure.

If he came through this alive.

With the water fast approaching, he surveyed his surroundings and saw lights not too far away. Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance of survival.

He took the largest gulp of air he could and held his breath.

The impact almost knocked the wind out of his lungs. He wanted to scream from the cold as the North Atlantic absorbed his body before opening up to swallow him whole. It was enough to kill most creatures but Einarr was sturdier than most. And he was prepared. As much as could be expected.

As he plunged deeper, he attempted to clear his fuzzy brain—his life depended on it—and spread his arms like rudders to slow his downward trajectory.
If only I could get an erection now
, he thought,
that would really slow me down.
Einarr was rightly proud of his cock but he wondered whether now was the appropriate time to be thinking of it.
What the hell! If I'm not about to survive I might as well go thinking about sex.

Einarr did a lot of thinking about sex. And dreaming about sex. He rubbed himself raw thinking about it. You do that when you're not getting much. And he wasn't. He couldn't remember the last time. The other mountain trolls were a humorless bunch. Came with the territory, he supposed. Not much fun living underground for thousands of years never seeing the sun: trolls are allergic to the sun's rays.
In fact, you could say we're petrified of it,
Einarr chuckled to himself. But it was a serious concern. He had friends caught out in the watery dawn light turn to stone. It was the death of choice for those trolls who couldn't stand the loneliness and deprivation of their profession.

The pain in his lungs snapped Einarr's attention back to the reality of his situation. He wondered if the nostalgia had been his life flashing before his eyes in the lead up to death. He would not give up without a fight. Using his powerful legs and arms, he began his rapid ascent back toward the surface. At least he hoped he was headed that way because the murk was notorious for misleading drowning wayfarers. Lack of oxygen was sapping his strength, his huge body in agony.

His lungs were about to burst through his chest when he bobbed to the surface gulping in air frantically, paddling with his arms to stay afloat. He took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, those yoga lessons had come in handy after all. Bobbing about in the North Atlantic like a hairy cork meant he was still alive but unless he found something to cling to he was doomed. He was miles from shore and could never swim the distance, trolls bloated in sea water like a sponge, but if he could just find the source of the lights he saw on his downward spiral he might...

He turned and coming his way, bearing down on him were those very lights. It was a ship. A very large ship and if he could just avoid the propellers and steady himself in the choppy seas he could spring a good way up the side of the vessel and perhaps clamber on board. Staying calm was difficult. If he misjudged the distance or the force of his jump then...he shuddered to think of it.

His whole body tense, coiled ready to spring, his mind repeating positive thoughts, he was calculating the distance between himself and the behemoth of the sea bearing down on him.
Steady. Ready. Ju...
Fuck! Something hit him in the head dazing him. He'd submerged momentarily and when he broke the surface again he shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the seawater from his ears, he needed all his wits about him to survive, and to banish the pain. Then he heard it. It wasn't something that had bounced off his skull. It was someone. Someone who was now gasping, wheezing and thrashing about quite close by.

He had seconds to decide. Make the leap and save himself. Or go to the aid of the person floundering, thus, surely, ensuring they both lost their lives. It was a no brainer for Einarr. He swam toward the sounds of the losing struggle. Grabbing him from behind to hold his head above water, Einarr realized it was a young man, a very attractive young man. A bit skinnier than his usual taste but what a beauty. Einarr's cock went rigid and because of their proximity, it wedged itself against the drowning beauty's ass.

The young man, semi-conscious from the seawater he'd swallowed, slipped his hand down to squeeze Einarr's erection.

“Are you an angel?” the young man asked, turning his head to gaze at his rescuer.

Einarr couldn't help himself and caressed the young man's body as they struggled to stay afloat.

“Mmmm. Am I dead?”

The young man seemed content to snuggle against Einarr's body. “Did you want to be?”

“Yes,” the young man said sadly, then twisting suddenly in his arms he planted a kiss on Einarr's startled lips before falling unconscious.

There was a cry of “Man overboard” from the deck of the ship, searchlights began sweeping the choppy seas, and Einarr realized they may yet be saved. He waved while attempting to hold up the limp body, shouting out for help. “Over here,” a voice from the ship called. “There's two of them.” A searchlight beam struck him, blinding him momentarily, then he heard the thud of a lifebuoy landing close by. He dog paddled toward it, maneuvering it under the young man's arms, keeping him afloat. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

Einarr panicked. It had been all right when he could sneak on board the vessel to hide amongst the lifeboats or in the bowels of the ship, but now... Now they would see him in all his hideousness. He would be embarrassed. Humiliated. He could slip away, the young man was safe enough in the lifebuoy, but that would mean certain death for him. His sense of survival was too strong for that.

He was agonizing over his options when he heard the splash of oars and a light shone on his startled face. There was a gasp from someone in the boat before a flurry of activity took the decision out of his hands. He hung his head as he was hoisted on board the rescue boat after he'd helped push the young man up ahead of him. Someone shook his hand, congratulating him effusively, while another clapped him on the back and said “Well done,” their hand squeezing his shoulder in a most suggestive manner.

Einarr sat shivering until someone wrapped his near naked body in a rough blanket but not before whistling appreciatively. He smiled. They must have seen his cock. He also knew that he was the object of the whistle when the person wrapping the blanket around him used it as a cover to run his fingers along the shaft to his balls and put his warm hand around it.

As the rescue boat was hauled up the side of the ship Einarr had a chance to size up the rescue vessel. It was ablaze with light now and people were hanging over the rails watching the drama unfold. The ship was gigantic. He had never seen anything like it before. It was sleek, manufactured of some sort of metal, and was of such technological superiority he realized he must have slept for hundreds of years for humans to have developed this far.

Once on board he was dazed by the crush of people, the applause, and backslapping. The ship's officer who had rescued him cleared a pathway through the crowd, and someone shouted, “Let them through please. Give them air. We're taking them to the infirmary for a checkup, then once they're given the okay, they'll be released back into the wild.”

Einarr had no idea what an infirmary was or what the man meant by being released back into the wild. He certainly hoped it didn't mean he'd be thrown overboard again. The young man whose life he had just saved grabbed his hand and held on tightly. Einarr glanced at him sheepishly, keeping his head down lest he scare him with his hideous looks. But the youth didn't shrink from him, instead he squeezed his hand warmly, and smiled back, making him feel handsome.

He couldn't help it. He got hard. It had been over a hundred years since he'd last had sex and that was a pretty solitary indulgence so the touch of another warm-blooded creature, albeit just a hand, was enough to send the blood racing to Einarr's groin. On any other occasion that would have been embarrassment enough, but at the moment he was wearing a pair of torn and damp, clinging underpants that did everything to accentuate his erection rather than hide it.

A murmur went around the crowd of well-wishers, a few lips were licked in anticipation, and even the ship's officer escorting them smirked at the revelation. “My name's Chad,” the officer whispered. “Perhaps we can get together later.” So saying, he gripped Einarr's cock and gave it a gentle tug. “I can see why the shipping line chose you for the entertainment. You'll be very popular. Very popular, indeed.”

What entertainment? What shipping line? He had obviously been mistaken for someone else. Oh well, time enough later to sort it out. He'd be back at his mountain home soon enough, once it had cooled down to enable troll habitation. Still, he wondered why these people were not running in terror from his ferocious visage. That's what humans usually did when approached by a troll, especially an ugly one like him. He caught his reflection in a porthole as he passed. Nope, no change. He had a few ash smuts across his forehead and cheeks but that could scarcely disguise his appearance.

Einarr was startled as they turned into a well lit area of tables and chairs, festooned with some sort of silver sparkly material and round grape like things in a multiple of colors. He plucked one from above the door and squeezed it. It burst in his hand giving him a surprise. There was laughter but he felt it was good natured and not at his expense. That was a nice change. He liked these people.

BOOK: Guys and Trolls
4.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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