It starts with a look shared between strangers—a sexy, appraising gaze that hints at the desire for more. Usually, because of commitments, timing, or social restrictions, it ends there. But in this steamy, x-rated new edition of Brad Saunders’ Men I Might Have Known series, the encounters go much, much further.

The men in this provocative new collection are real—a gorgeous, hard-bodied young moving man, a handsome Latino interior designer, a striking silver-haired hotelier—but the intimate, erotic adventures that follow come straight from the author’s lusty, deliciously vivid imagination. From the eager young actor who stars in an unforgettable casting session, to the spectacularly endowed porn star who gives an interview that’s truly in-depth, these stories run the gamut from sweet to tawdry, but each one is undeniably hot. A cute sommelier offers an after-hours tasting session… A night spent bar-hopping in Berlin turns into a tantalizing threesome… When sex and fantasy mingle, every urge can be indulged, every taboo explored, and satisfaction is always guaranteed.

Brad Saunders currently lives in Los Angeles and is hard at work on several books and screenplays. When he is not writing about the men in his life, he writes about food, travel, and the arts for several publications.

The Mover’s Son

In the midst of finals during my freshman year of college, I got a phone call from my parents informing me that they were moving back to my native California in a few weeks, and that they would need my help before I set out for a summer in Europe. I hastily agreed to do whatever they needed and got off the phone as quickly as possible since I was pressed for time, and stressed about an imminent linguistics paper deadline.

I didn’t give the move too much thought since I still had all my finals to take, and my parents would only need my help unpacking everything in the new house in California. I would fly straight there after the school year ended, spend a couple weeks helping get the house in order, and then take off for an internship in Paris. I could hardly wait to get to Europe; so even through the drudgery of unpacking, at least I had that trip to look forward to after all the hassle of moving.

When the dust from finals and the subsequent year-end parties finally settled a couple weeks later, I packed for home and tried to overcome my raging hangover on the flight from the East Coast back to California. I may have been a young, fit eighteen-year-old, but I felt burned out and gross after all my studying and partying, so I was looking forward to a few weeks of good, hard, physical work to clear my mind.

My parents picked me up at the airport late that night and drove me to our new house by the beach. It was a huge, beautiful place, but completely barren except for a couple mattresses on the floor and some fast-food containers in the fridge. My parents explained we were still waiting for the moving trucks to show up, and that they were expected the next day. Then the work would begin.

I wished my folks good night, then fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, anticipating the heavy lifting to come.

Early the next morning, I was awoken by a huge truck pulling into the driveway. The movers had arrived. I watched from my upstairs bedroom window as my parents went out to talk to the driver, then pulled on some shorts and a tank top, and went downstairs myself.

I grabbed a cup of coffee, hoping that would perk me up, and went outside to survey the situation. What a view I got.

The moving truck was owned and operated by a father- son team. From what my mother said, I learned the father’s name was Matt. He was a handsome, grizzled guy in his mid-forties, with a mop of graying black hair. He looked tanned and tired, and was opening up the back of the truck for my parents to take a look. What really caught my attention, though, was Matt’s son. He was still standing by the truck’s cab, getting some equipment out of the front. He looked like he was barely out of high school (and I later found out that he had just turned eighteen and graduated a week earlier), with a young face, an olive complexion, a mop of thick black curls, golden brown eyes, and a sinewy body of long, toned muscles. His back was strong from lifting boxes all day, and his ass was as round as a globe, leading down to some of the most muscular legs I’d ever seen.

I walked up to him and extended my hand, asking his name. When he turned to look at me, he smiled shyly and took my hand, telling me his name was Ty.

“I’m Brad,” I told him, smiling back. “Nice to meet you. Let me know if you need any help.” Ty blushed and thanked me before turning back to his work. I saw his eyes shift back toward me one last time, though, and I took that as a good sign.

The rest of the day was a blur of bustle, activity, and heat. All I wanted to do was go to the beach and surf all day, but instead I was stuck lugging furniture into the new house and trying to find my boxes mixed in with everything else.

Every time I passed Ty, he looked sexier and sexier, as a healthy, ruddy glow spread all over his body, and the exertion of moving my belongings brought out a sheen of moisture on his skin. A couple drops of sweat even sprung up on his upper lip, and I had a barely resistible urge to kiss them away.

But I controlled myself and channeled my sexual frustration into lugging and hauling and lifting. Finally, it was time for lunch, and I was put in charge of a McDonald’s run. I got some cash from my folks and took everyone’s orders. I was amazed by the amount of food Ty and his father ordered, but then again, they did manual labor every day of their lives, so they could eat whatever they wanted.

I was about to take off in my mom’s convertible when Matt suggested Ty take a little break from the work and go with me to help. My heart leapt up into my throat, but I kept calm as I nonchalantly shrugged, “Sure.”

Ty looked anxiously from his father to me, then followed me out to the car. I could tell he was nervous, but I didn’t know why. I wasn’t just going to jump him! At least, not if I could help it...

As I shifted into gear, my arm brushed against his on the armrest. He started to move it, but then he left it where it was, so I left mine there, too, and we stayed like that— sweaty arms touching, but nothing else.

We drove in awkward silence until I turned on the radio and some oldies came on. I started humming along and saw Ty grin a little, so I started singing full voice, and that actually made him laugh before joining in. By the time we got to McDonald’s, we were having a good time, and by the time we got back to the house, we were friends.

Soon, I realized Ty was using all his breaks just to come find me and talk to me, even if it was just in furtive little sentences. It seemed like he was just trying to spend time with me. It also seemed like he was specifically searching for boxes labeled “Brad” so he could bring them to my room. I asked him about it, but all he did was shrug and say that the boxes had to get into the house, so he was just bringing them in. He was blushing as he said it, though, and a little smile played on his lips.

The tension was killing me. I wanted to fuck his brains out, especially after he got so hot that he took his shirt off and kept working shirtless. I could see all his muscles contracting and relaxing as he lifted box after box, getting slippery with sweat. His body was perfect, lean and muscular, just like I liked, with a sprinkling of hair around his nipples and belly button. I could tell he wanted me, too, since I kept noticing him looking at me when he thought I didn’t see him. Eventually, I took off my shirt, too, so he could see the goods.

I might have felt old and gouty from my recent scholarly cloistering and subsequent alcohol-fueled bender, but I was still just a sporty teenager, and my body looked amazing. I’d been playing intramural sports, getting to the gym, and biking around campus all year, and I was more toned than I’d ever been. No freshman fifteen for me. Instead, I’d put on a few pounds of muscle on my arms, shoulders, and legs, and had the start of a respectable six-pack tautening my stomach. Ty and I could have a really good time ...if we ever got a moment alone together.

At the end of the first day, we’d made some progress, but the truck was still half full, so Ty and his father were going to come back the next day to finish the job. My parents sent me off to sign Matt’s time sheet, and I shook his hand. He got in the truck and honked the horn to call Ty, who was still in the house. Ty ran from the house but slowed when he saw me. He stared at the ground and mumbled a good-bye, and I put a grimy hand on his sweaty, sticky shoulder to squeeze it when I replied and told him I’d see him tomorrow. He looked up at me with an exhilarated grin, then hopped in the truck and the two of them were off.

Luck smiled on us the next day. Around noon, my parents had to rush out on a long errand for the house in another part of the city that would take them the rest of the afternoon, so they left me in charge. Ty’s father had to go out, too, since something had broken down in his truck’s engine and he needed to fix it so he and Ty could drive it away when we were done with the move. Ty and I were finally alone.

Nothing happened. At least, not for a while. We both became shy again, barely mumbling to each other as we passed one another. Both of us were nervous, not knowing what to do. We worked feverishly, carting box after box into the house, chipping away at the mountains of belongings my parents had brought with them.

As it got hotter and hotter, Ty retreated into the truck to rearrange some things for easier unloading. I went to the kitchen for a cold drink. I got two glasses of water and brought one of them out to the truck for Ty.

I climbed up into the truck and said, “Hey,” handing him one of the waters.

He said, “Thanks,” and instead of looking away, as he’d been doing, he looked straight in my eyes as he drank it. I smiled and lightly pushed past him, pretending to look for a certain box.

“I’m trying to find a box of my school books,” I told him. “Have you seen it?”

“Hmmm, I don’t think so,” he said, looking concerned.

We worked together, side by side, rearranging boxes and looking for my lost books. We got closer and closer in that cramped, dark space, deep in the truck, surrounded by dusty boxes lit only by the dim lights along the container’s roof. It was sweltering in there, with the sun beating down on the truck, and soon we were both covered in sweat and dust.

I was kneeling right next to Ty now, almost leaning against him, keeping close contact. He wasn’t moving away from me at all, and I knew that if I wanted something to happen, I’d have to act now. Fortune smiled again, though, because at just that moment, Ty lost his balance and fell right into me. I caught him as his chest whumped into mine, and we lay on the ground, him on top of me, our faces within inches of each other.

As I looked into his golden eyes, framed by sweaty curls plastered to his forehead, he stared at me with a mixture of lust, eagerness, and fear. I smiled, then suddenly pulled him closer into me and mashed my mouth onto his.