Today I am so pleased to welcome Sam Standish to Joyfully Jay. Sam has come to talk to us about his latest release, Making Men. He has also brought along an exclusive excerpt and a copy to give away. Please join me in giving Sam a big welcome!



I wrote Making Men because I love sexual bluntness and shamelessness, that thing of, “Hey, man, wanna fuck?” No hesitation. On your knees. Or bend over and spread ‘em, totally open, ready to take anything. Most erotica I’ve read wastes time with lead-up. I have a guy hard and leaking on page one. Not to say I’m not romantic. I want frank love as much as I want frank sex. Huge, crushing hugs, deep kisses, bald pledges of devotion—“I fucking love you,” “I’m here for you till the end of time,” “I’m yours forever.” I like to unite the two: passion and devotion demonstrated in pounding thrusts and pledges sealed with eruptions of semen. The guys in Making Men ejaculate themselves dry for each other—and keep going.

I wrote a part of the book, “What Kevin Taught,” to explore my feelings about corporal punishment, capability and character. As a boy, I could not have character. I dressed nicely and said, “Yes, ma’am” and “No, ma’am” and got A’s here and there. But I was insufficiently masculine, and then, like all little gay-boys-to-be, I was a liar. Then puberty hit and flat-out homosexual desire, plus I still was still a liar. So I didn’t have character. Believing this, I failed at many things and did not even try others. So I long for the code espoused in that chapter: facing the self and finding the place from which to start working and improving. The strokes of the cane are strokes of reality. I suffer from a different kind of lash, internalized, every little thing that goes wrong turned against myself. So I am fascinated by punishment. I feel I missed out, did not get enough. For me, on the outside, there is something glamorous about receiving corporal punishment, the attention you must have in order to suffer humiliation, the pride you can take in having suffered and endured as a “good sport.” I was never physically courageous or athletic, so I could not get that glamor that way. I could not have that initiation. So I long for the paddlings I never got, but I am horrified at the prospect. I read the stories on with anxious fascination, wishing I was giving, wishing I was getting, yet suffering at the injustice. I engage in real-life discipline scenes as both top and bottom.

(By the way, I know there is nothing glamorous about real corporal punishment. The same disconnect exists with molestation. For the victim, it is terrible, but the one not chosen by the perpetrator may long for the attention and “love” they see the molested one getting.)

I also wrote Making Men simply to see if I could. I had ideas for an erotic novel for a long time, but I feared writing erotica. Maybe I thought it would overwhelm me.  I’d always be going off to masturbate and would never finish it. But once I got going, I focused on the writing challenges, and the sex I described became about other things, so it my interest was held on an aesthetic level. I might have learned more writing this book than writing anything else I’ve written—not just about sex and love, but about language and its capabilities and about metaphysical issues around desire, penetration, and the male sexual organs and what they produce. At first one might think, well, when men have sex, the semen is useless. It doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t create anything. Making Men says it does. In fact, it must.

Finally, I decided that, in writing the book, I would invert some standard myths and motifs. For example, I don’t think I ever say how endowed anyone is in the whole book, though I introduce an effeminate young man, then playfully say that he is about the same size as one of the strapping, macho main characters. Then the effeminate guy fucks the macho guy. I reverse other established ideas. Kevin has sex with a very old man. He also has sex with a guy who is scrawny and awkward, and who fears he is not well endowed enough. At the end of the encounter, Kevin can’t remember what size the guy was, he’s so in love. Kevin even talks about sex with disabled guys. I don’t portray that, because that’s a whole community and experience I don’t know, and I would be afraid of offending or not doing such men justice. Maybe someday, after some research, I will do an erotic novel where some characters are disabled. One of the sweetest, most beautiful men I ever met had cerebral palsy, and Humans of New York featured this guy who was born with his organs on the outside. He’s had twenty-some operations and does not have a left leg. But he’s quite handsome and upbeat. He has a gratitude and joie de vivre that are just beautiful. They showed pics of him roller skating one-legged in Times Square and posing with his girlfriend. I was so smitten! I could totally get into a sexual fantasy about him. (Stories on HONY do not have unique URLs, but if you Google “Humans of New York” and “omphalocele”—the name of the condition—you’ll find the guy. And hopefully find him as inspiring as I do!)


Tony guided his car gently through the gray dusk, working down the dark streets. Softly lit windows floated by, their vibrant, naked colts at home, bounding, kicking, eager, initiated into the ways of manhood by stalwart men. Tony felt a surge in his chest and his cock. Soon he would act as one of the gentle, responsible stallions offering sanctuary and warmth to a colt.

He parted his legs and through the rough denim kneaded a burgeoning erection. He had worked to bring his nephew, three years younger and all but discarded by the family, here to find shelter and to be transformed. Tony’s protective urge created a deliciously aching engorgement at the base of his cock. He welcomed the discomfort, the strain and of course the swelling. He thought ahead to how he would envelop the boy in muscled arms, pressing his face to the heat of his neck, the little, soft hollow behind his ear, welcoming him to the world.

All day the texts had come. “Getting closer” “Closer &closer” Now Tony’s phone lit up. “Am real close can’t wait 2b w/ u and *thank* u” He imagined the boy’s seed spilling. He braked at a light and pulled open his jeans, releasing his manhood. He squeezed this other “boy” hard, and then teased the nerve endings all up and down it with his large, rough fingers. Wetness seeped from the slit, and he tasted it, falling into a swoon, possessed by a mad desire to inseminate the one he loved. The thanks the boy imagined was little compared to what he, split wide open, would receive and give tonight. Tony undid two buttons of his shirt and massaged his rough, thick hair. He winced and shuddered as he pinched hard nipples. His cock seeped more.

The light changed. Tony forced his cock down, did up his jeans and drove on to the bus station.

His foot shook on the accelerator. Kevin had so deeply, thoroughly fucked him last night that at first he had been unable to stand—a not unpleasant sensation. Kev had grinned and scratched his blond stubble, teasing Tony, saying, “Go ahead, stay on the floor. I’ll take ya again.” He’d grabbed Tony by the hair and brought his mouth to an upthrust organ that, even after filling Tony’s ass twice, remained stiff and begging for satisfaction. Kevin threw back his head, threw out his chest and joyfully mouth-fucked his friend, ejaculating a flood Tony gratefully swallowed.

Kevin: constantly in motion, naked almost all the time, existing to inseminate.

Imprisoned again, Tony’s cock strained at the denim as he remembered Kevin banging his ass rapid-fire, the reckless pushing in, in, in, up Tony’s ass, then in his mouth, slowing as Kev balanced on the edge and then released and released again. Tony gripped the wheel with one hand, while the other squeezed at his taut, denim-encased prick. He swelled out his chest, hairy expanse still exposed, as he remembered opening both ass and mouth wide, wider, as far as he could, receiving Kevin’s thrusts, each given thoughtfully and deliberately, from one man to another. Tony, his soul bared and laid open, looked up. He plunged into Kevin’s eyes and tenderly panted his desire for the strength and love that surged from Kevin and flooded Tony’s every previously hidden and protected corner.

Their rough coupling left Tony sweetly vulnerable and at peace; he did not want to stand or even move again. They gazed into one another’s eyes. Tears came. Boyish grins spread. Tony at last tried to stand. He instantly collapsed, and they fell into a fit of laughter.

“Don’t try!” Kevin said. “Why should you have to?” Tony grinned, feeling noble in the fall, graceful in his disgrace, elegant and strong while flat on the floor, Kevin looking down, murmuring, “You are beautiful as fuck, man.”

Kevin often said, “A man’s a man when he feels weakest.” Now Tony felt, drained but full again, his manhood charging the gate, mad to give, that he was ready for the boy whose own budding manhood had been entrusted to his care. He himself had to be more a man than before, and, according to Kevin, becoming a man required the liberating weakness he gained from giving himself, body and spirit, to Kevin’s penetrations and his occupying seed. Recalling again Kevin’s thrusts, imagining the strength it took to surrender to that excess, Tony squeezed himself in little pulses. He did so with care, as he felt at the root his own stored essence, anxious to burst free for the boy now seconds away.


MakingMen_cvr_100dpi-210x330.jpgThree passionate men. Tony and Kevin are older and have learned to give, body and soul, till it hurts. Into their lives comes another young man, wanting desperately to give and to take all he can. Together these three will reach heights they never imagined. And each will discover for himself where he has to go next. This is a tale of devotion and transcendence. A tale of young male bodies. A tale unlike any other you have ever read.


SAM STANDISH lives on the edge of a dark forest by a mighty river. Making Men is his first novel.


Sam has brought a copy of Making Men to give away to one lucky reader. Just leave a comment at the end of the post to enter. The contest ends on Friday, April 24th at 11:59 pm EST.

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FILED UNDER: Excerpt, Giveaway, Guest Post