My guest today is Tristram La Roche, rapidly becoming the ‘go to’ man for raunchy gay erotica in both contemporary and historical genres. His first contemporary story “On My Knees” has been lauded to the skies, as have his follow up tales, “Fixed” and “Lorenzo the Magnificent”. His first historical “The Hun and the General” hasn’t failed to deliver the goods.
Thank you, Tristram, for agreeing to answer my questions today.
Tristram: Well, thank you for inviting me over and congratulations on your book, Alike as Two Bees.
Elin: Thanks, Tristram. But down to business! What is the biggest difference between writing contemporary erotica, with the current anything goes atmosphere, and writing historical subjects? Do you find the strictures of the past inhibiting to your storylines?
Tristram: I’m not sure with just one historical under my belt I’m entirely qualified to answer that, Elin. I rather think The Hun and The General takes place at a time when the attitude to sexuality was more liberal than in subsequent eras, so maybe I got off lightly. It’s easy to forget that sexual prudishness is quite recent when the history of man is considered. For sure if I had chosen to write something in Victorian times it would have been a different matter and the storyline would have to reflect the reality of everyday life.
Elin: The Hun and the General was, famously, inspired by a fan begging you to write a novel with Attila the Hun as a submissive in a D/s relationship. Prior to that did you have any particular desire to write in an historical setting or any previous interest in late Roman culture?
Tristram: I’ve loved the whole Roman thing – from Romulus and Remus to the very dying days of the empire – all my life. I’ve visited Rome and Roman sites many times. I had only the slightest idea that I might write something historical one day, it certainly wasn’t a burning desire. When the challenge was put to me I simply couldn’t resist. I remember saying to myself; go on Tristram, you can do it.
Elin: What was the most interesting fact you discovered about Attila that didn’t make it into your novel?
Tristram: I’m going to have to think about that really hard because there are so few facts known about him that I might have managed to include them all! Oh, I know…Attila is a hero to the Hungarians. Hungary’s history shows the nation was founded by Arpad in 896 AD but deep down all Hungarians believe that Arpad merely reclaimed lands occupied by Attila almost half a millenium earlier. Many streets are named after Attila and this not something perverse like naming a street after Hitler; it is because of his genuine hero status, father of the nation.
Elin: Do you enjoy research for its own sake or do you just do what is necessary for each project?
Tristram: I do what is needed for each project but that is because there is so little time in a day. I love research for its own sake and if I could start my life all over again I’d like to be something academic, a university don or something like that. Such a career wasn’t an option for me as my parents were firmly against education; it is amazing I went to university at all.
Elin: You wrote about Florence in Lorenzo the Magnificent. Are there any other places that you love that you feel the urge to immortalise in your fiction?
Tristram: Oh, crikey! This could be a long list. I haven’t finished with Florence and Rome, I’ll be back there. Then there’s Venice, Siena, Athens, Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, New York…maybe I should stop there because after the major cities I have dozens of smaller towns that have potential stories attached to them.
Elin: You are an outspoken advocate for accuracy in the depiction of gay male relationships in M/M novels – a term that I understand you dislike intensely – while you have also defended the right of whoever to write whatever. That said, have you any advice for authors who wish to write such relationships?
Tristram: Have you any easy questions coming up? Well, what can I say. Yes, I do look for accuracy in the way gay male relationships are portrayed and this arises from my first exposure to what is called M/M. I had read gay literature, like Alan Hollinghurst for example, but hadn’t come across this new phenomenon. I guess I chose badly and ended up with soppy stories about cissy men. It made me determined to write something totally different. Of course, I know I am not the only one doing this but I think we are a minority. And yes, I do defend the right of free speech and free writing, absolutely; no one is forced to read what they don’t like. The most important thing is that people read. As to advice, I have to say if the would-be author isn’t a gay man then there is no alternative to research. You cannot simply write a hetero romance and change your female characters to male. Keep an open mind because there are aspects of gay life that some heterosexuals find hard to come to terms with – like cruising. There was a blog post recently somewhere saying that gay men don’t have sex in toilets anymore because things are easier now. All that does is demonstrate the writer misses the point; there are many, many gay men who enjoy the thrill, the adrenaline rush, of public sex. It has little to do with supply and demand. But I am not a control freak and wouldn’t dream of telling people what they should write.
Elin: I’d imagine that people, in general, have sex wherever and whenever the urge strikes or the opportunity is offered. So what next? Contemporary, historical or something else?
Tristram: I honestly haven’t a clue. I don’t have a work in progress because I have to work out if I go down the romance route or veer further towards plain erotica – or even literary. As soon as I know, I’ll tell you.
Elin: I’ll look orward to that, Tristram. Thanks so much for agreeing to answer my questions. Just one final request – can we have an excerpt, please? Either from a past publication or a teaser for something new.
Tristram: As I said, something new is just not possible, so here’s an excerpt from Fixed that seems appropriate to what we’ve discussed:
Elin: Ah and I see it’s an adult one too! Thanks Tristram.
Driving down in Pete’s old DS, fun as it was, had one drawback as far as Mike was concerned. Speed, or lack of it. Not that the DS couldn’t break the speed limit, but it was always a bad idea to thrash vehicles of this age. Avignon lay over six hundred miles south of the ferry port and a midway stopover beckoned. Another shared room. Pete had wanted to go via Paris, but Mike had travelled the route numerous times and persuaded him that avoiding the French capital’s ring road would win them valuable time.
The car hummed along, the soggy ride of the pneumatic suspension lulling Mike to sleep. Every time his head lolled back, he jerked awake with a sharp intake of breath and grabbed at the falling map on his knees.
“Hey, Mike. Didn’t you sleep?”
“Could have been better.”
“Just as well I’m driving then.”
“It would have been quicker to fly down, you know.”
“But no fun.”
“But we’d have had two drivers for the run home with my car. Now we both have to drive all the way up.”
“So what? One night extra on the way back, that’s all it is.” Pete glanced at Mike and chuckled. “You worried about your boss?”
“Actually, it’s two extra nights if you include tonight.” And yes, he was a bit worried about his boss, but not in the way Pete meant. The night on the ferry had been testing. That little fling with Pete had only served to pique his desires and his attraction to Pete grew by the hour. More than once, as they sped down the autoroute, he had found himself peeking at the bulge in Pete’s pants. It looked like a child’s bicycle helmet stuffed under the cloth. He knew, of course, that Pete would be only too happy to indulge him and, as the miles flew by, his own resistance began to falter.
Just north of Reims, Pete slowed the car and pulled into a rest area. “I’m bursting for a piss. Maybe you should take advantage yourself?”
Mike’s bladder had been complaining for about twenty miles and he needed no encouragement. To his dismay, the very thought of standing next to Pete in a urinal, cocks out side by side, made his own cock spring to life. He battled with his thoughts to try to reduce the swelling before they reached the toilet block.
“I’ll wait with the car while you go.”
“That will waste time,” said Pete, climbing out of the car. “Come on. Nobody’s going to nick it in two minutes.”
Mike glanced at the Dutch truck parked at the side of them. The six digit yellow plates always reminded him of children’s alphabet blocks. The blond driver stared down on the DS, his fingers tapping the truck’s steering wheel. Mike sighed, tugged at his crotch and followed Pete up the path towards a grim concrete shed with a stylized picture of a man on the door. The stench of urine reached halfway down the path.
As Pete disappeared behind the door, Mike turned to look at the car. Beside the DS, the truck’s door had opened. Mike smiled to himself.
Mike drew up alongside Pete. He didn’t need to glance down to catch sight of Pete’s cock; its dimensions intruded into his peripheral vision. Pete stood with his hands on his hips, swinging his cock side to side, hosing down the stainless steel urinal with a yellow jet. Mike struggled to release his own rapidly growing cock. He heard footsteps approaching and shuddered with anticipation.
“Can’t pee?” asked Pete, nodding at Mike’s cock and smiling.
“I think we’re about to have company.”
The door opened and the truck driver squeezed himself in between Mike and Pete, elbowing himself into the space. Mike savored the moment, that point when it could turn out to be a pick up or something dangerous. Deep down he knew, seasoned as he was in the arts of the European rest stop. The driver tugged at his zip and jiggled up and down. Mike’s eyes slid down. The driver’s cock protruded, curving upwards like a pink banana. The slit glistened with precum. The driver winked at Mike before turning to Pete; he let out a gasp and said, “Shit.”
The driver turned his back to Mike, and from the way his shoulders twisted he’d reached down for Pete’s cock. Mike stood back to get a good look. The concrete floor glistened with splashes from the urinal but the driver fell to his knees and stuffed Pete’s cockhead into his mouth. Pete groaned and thrust his hips forwards, reaching out with his right hand for Mike’s cock. Mike shuffled forwards and Pete took it in his firm grip. As Mike’s foreskin rolled back and forth over the edge of his nob, he felt his balls tighten.
Mike put his hand on the back of the driver’s head, digging his fingers into the thick blond locks. The driver released Pete’s cock and turned his attention to Mike’s, sucking it right in until his nose pressed into Mike’s pubic bone. The pressure on Mike’s cockhead as it plunged down the driver’s throat made his prostate effervesce and he knew he was about to come. He pulled his cock out of the wet mouth and rubbed it, spurts of white cum painted the drive’s face and head, sticky garlands clinging to his hair. Mike’s legs threatened to give way and his body tingled. The driver leaned forwards and sucked him in again, sliding his lips over the glistening head until the hypersensitivity forced Mike to withdraw.
Pete’s cock shone in the sunlight that sloped across it from the high window above the urinal and he pushed it into the driver’s face. “My turn, mate.”
Once again Pete’s cockhead disappeared into the hungry mouth, but then all of it vanished as the driver made a gurgling sound. Heavy breaths escaped the driver’s nostrils as he pumped Pete’s cock all the way in and all the way out. Precum and saliva bubbled around the driver’s mouth and on Pete’s shaft. “I’m gonna come, Dutch boy. Do you want this English spunk?”
The driver grunted and picked up speed, gobs of glistening fluid streaking down his chin. Pete thrust forward, put a hand on the driver’s head and hissed.
Mike could see Pete’s urethra pulsing under his cock, shooting his come into the willing mouth. Silvery froth gathered on the driver’s lips until finally he pulled back to leave Pete’s hose dangling and dripping ropes of semen.
The driver’s blue eyes sparkled like amethyst. He swallowed hard and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “And now,” he said in English, “it’s my turn.” He got to his feet and forced Mike and Pete to their knees, pulling their faces into his groin so that they faced each other with his cock between them. He smelled sweaty and oily, and Mike detected the scent of stale spunk in the bush of honey-colored pubic hair. He’d always loved a bit of rough and the smell of real man. His own cock began to stiffen again. He looked at Pete, and those blue eyes stared back at him over the driver’s throbbing shaft. Mike hesitated. Pete seemed to be seeking approval.
Well, they could back off and leave one seriously disgruntled truck driver to take care of himself. Or Mike could leave Pete to it. But Mike wanted this, and he knew Pete did, too. It was just sex, after all. It meant nothing and changed nothing. He smiled and nodded gently, lowering his eyelids.
Pete ran his tongue along one side of the driver’s shaft, and Mike copied him. As they approached the head, the cock twitched and jolted upwards. With its curved shaft, the head almost pointed back at the driver’s stomach, and Mike pulled it down with a firm finger round the root. The resistance to his touch betrayed the intensity of the erection; this cock was filled with concrete.
The driver began to rock his hips back and forth, sliding his shaft between the two mouths. Mike looked up at him and saw those eyes glaring down, his lips pursed: a sight of pure horniness with the remnants of Pete’s come on his chin.
Pete took the cockhead first, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked the precum from the slit. Mike pushed him out of the way and took the cock right in to his tonsils. They shared it, one then the other, until the driver began to tremble and pulled away from them. Mike leaped back as the white anti-aircraft fire flew through the air, catching the sun’s rays in a gelatinous firework display before hitting the ground and adding to the puddles.
In an instant, the truck driver had packed his cock back in his jeans. “Thanks,” he said and left.
Purchase links for Fixed:
Tristram’s website has information about all his books with reviews, interviews and buy links and you can also find him here: