To all you sexy readers out there: meet Matt. Matt Kerwin is Stiff Rain’s latest hot new author guaranteed to sizzle your socks off. Please welcome him to the SRP family.
1. Matt, your bio isn’t up on the site yet. Tell us a little about yourself.
Thanks for the opportunity to rap with you. Um, apart from being young, gorgeous, well-hung, insatiable, totally versatile, into all fetishes, taboos, ready at any time and…uh…gay, there’s not much to tell. Oh, and I’m a terrible liar. Only one of the above is true.
2. I’m sure you know where I’m headed next… Please, please tell us about your new release, Catching the Son. What were you doing when the idea first took hold? What inspired you to write this book?
I was probably playing with myself, as usual, because I can’t get anyone else to do it. Inspiration? The money? I’m lucky, my mind never stops churning out ideas and I just choose from a card index (how old fashioned) which story I’m in the mood for at the moment. Catching the Son just happened to be it.
3. How would you describe your writing style?
It’s been described as anything from hot, gutter, rubbish, disgusting, ewww. I don’t think anyone is likely to compare my style with J.K. Rowling or John Steinbeck.
4. So you have another book in the works for SRP, right? Yes, that’s a hint. A blatant, unadulterated un-hinty hint. What’s next for you at SRP?
It’s a matter of diving in the deep end of my imagination where all the fetish and steamy stuff is, and choosing something appropriate. How about Bukkake Beach Boys, or a sequel to Catching the Son – Following the Son?
5. Were there any surprises that you faced as you wrote Catching the Son? And on that note, are you a plotter or a pantser?
I introduced a last-minute character to give the story a happier ending and carol Lynne suggested a tweak which made it happier. I start a story with a title and a rough outline in my head but it doesn’t always go where I thought it would.
6. What does your writing space look like?
Cluttered, but I’m in the process of chucking out decades of accumulated junk to give me more breathing space to write.
7. Take us through a day-in-the-life of Matt Kerwin from the time you swing your feet out of bed to the time you hit the lights off at night.
I’m awakened by my personal muscle slave to proceeds to drain my morning woodie, then I’m carried downstairs by a bevy of gorgeous naked twinks who drop to their knees to help me out or else bend me over the table to have their way with me. This gets a little monotonous after five or six hours, so I adjourn to my office where I have a specially constructed chair into which I seat myself on one of the rampant muscle guys and while I type another is under the desk doing things with his mouth that inspires me to…um…write better. For afternoon tea I take a bukkake shower from the naked guys lounging about the house and they finish it off with a nice hot watersports shower. I’m nice and refreshed for when the boyfriend comes home. We have a light dinner served by our naked slaves. They tend to my boyfriend’s sexual needs while I watch. There’s a bit of television, then we shut the slaves out and go to bed at which point my boyfriend bangs my brains out. It’s an exhausting day but someone has to do it. J
8. Do the people in your life know you’re a writer? How did they react when you told them?
I’ve been a writer one way or another all my life: journalism, critic, newspaper editor, short stories, celebrity interviews, etc. The advent of eBooks has given me the opportunity to write what I’m best at writing: sex.
9. Who is your biggest support in your personal life?
10. Do you have an author that inspires you most?
Not really. I read widely and have a few favorites such as Josh Lanyon, Cain Berlinger, but I tend to be more of a sponge and soak ideas and inspiration from all sorts of sources.
11. What are the last few books in your genre you’ve read recently?North of Nowhere (Liz Kessler); Appearances Matter (Jeff Erno); Male to Order (Cain Berlinger); Clockwork Romance (Skye Dragen); Mr. Average (Parker Williams); The Best (Tinnean). I’m a pretty voracious reader.
Now how about we have a little fun? In as few words as possible, answer the following short-fire questions your readers just might love to know about you:
Few words? I don’t understand the concept. J
1. Tim Tams or Oreos? (flavor?)
Neither. I don’t eat biscuits. Now if they made them sperm flavored. (Hmm, you think I might have a bit of a fetish?)
2. Vegemite, Marmite or peanut butter?
No contest. Peanut butter. Vegemite and Marmite taste disgusting.
3. Favorite drink?
Can I say, spunk?
4. Favorite food?
Spicy salt Tofu from the Noodle Star eatery.
5. Favorite travel destination?
I love London, New York and Reykjavik. I keep returning to those cities. But there’s still a lot of the world I haven’t visited yet.
6. Number of words you average a day writing?
On a good day 5000-7000. On a bad day 0.
7. Dog or cat person?
Wombat. I’m a vegetarian.
8. Beach or Outback?
More a river or a lake person.
9. Music that relaxes you?
John Adams, Steve Reich, Arvo Part. For pleasure I love Korean boy bands, especially Big Bang (Taeyang and G-Dragon are to die for), and Shinee.
10. This one might not be so short. Favorite daydream?
See question 7 above. J
Would you share a few excerpts from some of your work and where we can find them?
My father woke me early—to him any man with the determination to succeed rose early enough to beat his competition. It seems I would never be top of my game because I loved sleeping until seven or eight o’clock. I had no corporate throats to cut so I slept easy. My dad sighed when he saw the outfit I’d chosen to meet the builders: all color coordinated in pastel shades. I thought it looked smart and screamed good taste; he merely thought it screamed. He sent me back to change, swearing vehemently about my intransigence, even going so far as to use the F word because my provocative behavior was making him late.
Provocative? I’d give him fuckin’ provocative. I changed into my tightest pair of cut-off jeans that I never wore in public as they left no doubt at all that I’d been circumcised at birth. They threatened to strangle my balls and clung to my ass and crack like glue so that I’m sure if I bent over you’d see an outline of my butt hole. The bottom of my ass cheeks could not be contained in the flimsy material and jutted from the rough hem of the seat. I wore a clingy T-shirt, two sizes too small, that threatened to rip apart every time I flexed a muscle. They also showed off my hard pecs and their pert little nipples that, if I’d had time, I would have had pierced as one final ‘fuck you’ to the family who found any sort of body modification repellent.
When I stormed out of my bedroom to confront my dad, I shouted, “If you want to see faggot, then get a load of this.”
Obviously, dad had got sick of waiting and headed off to his important meeting while I’d been busy choosing my outfit. I’d probably been too angry to hear his shouted goodbyes—if he’d even bothered. What I hadn’t counted on was the builders having their own key for they’d let themselves into the house and were standing in the doorway gaping at my getup, smirking like a gang of adolescents.
An hour later my dad called to check on the builder’s progress. I lied and told him everything was going well. “Don’t take any shit from them, son. They’re working for us. We’re paying them good money. So stand up to them if you have to.”
He’d already disconnected the call before I could ask him how his day was going. Typical.
I went back downstairs, determined the workmen wouldn’t embarrass me this time. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, Kareem, one of the Arab men, whistled and grabbed a handful of his cock through his overalls. “Look, he’s blushing like a virgin,” he yelled.
“Bet he’s anything but a virgin,” Roy snickered. “You see the way he’s been looking at my crotch.”
“I have not!” I yelled. “Anyway, my dad just rang and he wants to see results when he gets back, otherwise…”
“Otherwise what?” Tony said ominously.
“Just otherwise,” I mumbled.
“Coffee break,” yelled Ali. In unison, the guys all dropped their tools.
“Hey,” I shouted weakly. “You’ve hardly even started.”
“Yeah,” said Ali, “but unless we get taken care of every few hours, we get sort of stressed and our work suffers.”
“You wouldn’t want that, would you?” smirked Tony. “What will Daddy say if he gets home and finds the work’s not up to his standards?”
“He won’t be happy,” I mumbled.
“And what does he do when he’s not happy?” Tony asked.
“He yells at…” and I stopped a little too late.
They all burst out laughing.
“Hey, Jack,” Ali called to the Aussie kid, “come and get it,” and he unclipped his overalls and flopped out a huge semi-hard cock that he started to milk. Jack ambled over and sank to his knees, engulfing the cock in one mouthful. Ali held the back of his head and face-fucked him until gag and drool started to ooze over Jack’s chin.
“Stop it!” I yelled. “My dad doesn’t like faggots.”
“Oh, you mean like Jack there?”
“Yeah,” I replied, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.
“You never jerked off with your buddies?” Ali asked.
“Yeah,” I admitted reluctantly.
“Well, that’s faggot stuff,” Tony said.
“But I don’t put it in my mouth.”
Matt, thank you so much for taking the time to visit with us on the blog today. Please tell us where we can find out more about you, or where your fans can contact/locate you on the web.
Any parting thoughts for your new Stiff Rain fans?
I hope you enjoy Catching the Son. I’m always happy to hear from readers via my website who enjoy my work. And remember, eww, gross, and disgusting are compliments in my world.
You can see more of Matt and his alter egos on his website: