Michael Huxley
With Wet Nightmares, Wet Dreams, Mr. Huxley has surely realized a dream come trueâ€”â€œcomeâ€ not being the only operative wordâ€”that is: a truly original concept, brilliantly executed. For what subliminal primal urge could possibly be denied through the truth-confrontation of dreams and nightmaresâ€”wet nightmares, wet dreams at that? The answer, of course, is none, and it would seem that many of male eroticaâ€™s top authorities would agree, if their seemingly flagrant enthusiasm to share literary nocturnal emissions with the reading public were any indication. Fact is, Wet Nightmareâ€™s TOC reads like a â€œWhoâ€™s who?â€ in the genre: Barry Alexander, Ken Anderson, Antler, M. Christian, Rick Jackson, Thom Nickels, Ian Phillips, Simon Sheppard, Mel Smith, Greg Wharton, Mark Wildyr and Huxley himself, to name drop just a bit. Wet Dreams should convince any remaining disbelievers once and for all that Michael Huxley is the guy you want to be submitting to these days if yâ€™wanna write erotica the way yâ€™never dreamed youâ€™d be ableâ€”and continue to publishâ€”given the nightmare world of restrictive genre guidelines abounding in gay publishing today. Voluptuously packaged, well-packed with dreamy/creamy sexscapes and nightmares so intense theyâ€™ll scare the living semen right out of you, Wet Nightmares, Wet Dreams delivers the goods from new erotic territoriesâ€”in this case, from the bottomless sexual mineshaft of secrets, the desires and misgivings, that all men harbor, that they are so loath to divulge, most especially to themselves.
Wet Nightmares, Wet Dreams