GENRE: Gay Historical Erotic Romance
LENGTH: 11,589 words
RATING:

It's Woodstock, 1969, and Laramie Pruitt is anxious to feel some peace and love after the recent Stonewall riots in his hometown. While he's grooving to some great music at the festival, Laramie meets a handsome young man named Sullivan “Sully” Conyers. They get along well together, and Sully even tolerates Laramie's tendency to get on his soapbox about social issues and Big Brother.

When Laramie learns that Sully is gay, it leads to a tryst later that night and clandestine kisses under Sully's tarp during a rainstorm. Things are great, but as always, Laramie's mouth gets him into trouble, and drives Sully away.

Laramie knows he was wrong, but in a sea of half a million people, how is he supposed to find Sully and apologize?

Thankfully, Laramie finds Sully on the last day of the event and he gets a second chance at love.

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

When we got back to our spot in the field, Shelly and some of her buddies were sitting on our blankets. I supposed that was one way to make sure our stuff didn’t disappear. We thanked her, and settled back into our space.

Sully and I unrolled our sleeping bags to prepare for bed. I noted the strong smell of weed and something else around us. Turned out that Shelly’s buddies were big time stoners. They offered us a joint. I declined, feeling high enough on life already. Sully took a hit.

Music still filled the air and I lay down, staring up at the stars while zoning out on the bliss I’d experienced just now in the lake. Who knew I’d meet someone like Sully here at Woodstock?

It was definitely an added bonus to find a friend, and maybe more. I wondered what he felt about the whole thing. I turned my head to see what my new, intimate buddy was doing. I could just make out his body in the near dark as he moved to the rhythm of the music.

I wanted to reach out and touch him, feel his muscles tense and release. Hopefully we’d have a chance at more than a hand job in the near future.

While I was grooving to Sly and the Family Stone, my eyes drifted closed. I awoke a little bit later to find the tarp covering us again and Sully close by in his sleeping bag.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered.

“That’s okay.” I yawned wide enough to crack my face. “Did it start to rain, or something?”

“Nah. I used the possibility of showers as an excuse to give us a little privacy.” I could hear the grin in his voice.

“You dog, you.” I unzipped my bag a little so I could take out my hands. “I want to kiss you.”

Sully obliged by leaning closer. His lips tasted as good as I remembered. We stayed like that for a while, and another band came on stage as we created our own little world in the middle of a half a million people in Bethel.

“You’re a good kisser, Laramie,” he mumbled against my mouth, right before he nipped the tip of my nose.

“You have the best lips I’ve ever savored,” I said, then I yawned again.

“Tired, huh?” he asked.

“A bit. Sorry to ruin the mood.”

He chuckled. “Don’t you worry about that. We’ll find a way to be together later. You’re not getting away that easily.”