Launching this month, Bait And Switch & Other Stories is the long awaited gay-themed follow-up to Ashley Sievwright’s debut novel The Shallow End, which was nominated for the Commonwealth Writers Prize Best First Novel.
Dr Robert and JD were driving to Mount Elephant together in the doctor’s silver BMW coupe. It was the end of summer, and the western plains of Victoria, vast and flat as a tack, except for the mounds of extinct volcanoes here and there, were dry and beige-coloured as far as the eye could see. It had been an uneventful drive, apart from the ten minutes or so that JD masturbated and filmed it on his iPhone.
Dr Robert had seen JD’s dick before, of course – many times, both in online videos and up close and personal, but there was something so uncanny about the size of it, that it was almost impossible not to look. It didn’t seem real. It was like CGI. It was like a ride at Dreamworld. It was like fireworks. It was uncanny and beautiful and gobsmacking – every
JD’s full name was Jose Diego Romero Benitez. He was 27, born in Brazil, had bombshell looks, a muscled body, and a preternaturally large dick – somewhere between miraculous and ridiculous. He had 430k followers on Twitter and 775k on Instagram, and he regularly posted semi-nude selfies on both.
“Is a fine line,” he had explained to Dr Robert soon after they met, as if he was explaining something really intricate and tricky. “For Instagram is behind cloth only, either in underwear or behind a towel. Nothing sheer. And is got to be pointing down.”
“I see,” Dr Robert nodded, utterly besotted. “Pointing down.”
“Yeah. It can be, like, pretty much hard, but as long as is pointing down is fine.”
“On Twitter you can get away with a lot more. Facebook?” He made a sound something like a Brazilian version of ‘pfft’. “I do not bother with Facebook.”
Every day, in order to provide his various online platforms with the content required, he would get himself half-hard and, dick pointing down, underwear in place, take a number of selfies, with or without sponsored items on his person. He would also, once a day, once every single day, jerk off, film it and post it online. His website was called
This explains why, one bare foot up on the dash, his singlet pulled up and over his head to reveal his pecs and his abs, and his dick out the top of the elastic of his shorts, he was jerking off in Dr Robert’s car on the way across the western plains.
“Careful,” Dr Robert said a little peevishly, aware of both the leather seats of his BMW and the imminent triple-climax that he knew was about to happen.
Too late. With a slightly annoyed frown on his face JD ejaculated – once, twice, three times, up over his front. He then made a little Brazilian moue at the camera phone in his hand, pressed stop and put it down.
“You speak over my cumshot,” he said to Dr Robert, without, it must be admitted, any heat at all. “I might have to do it again.”
“What, do it again now?” Dr Robert’s ejaculations were few and far between – the idea of two in a row was almost unthinkable.
“In a minute.”
“We’re stopping in a minute,” Dr Robert said, lifting his chin and indicating the road ahead.
At the mention of their destination, Dr Robert’s thoughts went to the zip-lock plastic bag of ashes in the glovebox – the ashes of his sister, Cora – well, a third of the ashes of his sister Cora. The other two thirds were in two zip-lock plastic bags in the possession of his two remaining sisters, Meredith and Lillian. They were to meet at Mount Elephant to reunite the three bags of ashes and scatter them.
He’d forgotten that a third of Cora was in the glovebox, and he blushed.