Is voyeurism such a crime - especially if watching your own boyfriend in action with strangers turns you on big time? Steve and Billy's monogamous relationship has gone stale until Billy, ever the exhibitionist, shows them a way to spice up their sex life. Billy has the most coveted ass in the city and Steve loves to watch him secretly spread it open for strangers. But can their relationship survive when Billy goes too far and offers himself to Steve's worst enemies. Busting Billy's Butt was originally published by loveyoudivine Alterotica and includes the first eight adventures of Steve and Billy in the Four on the Floor series - Four on the Floor, Jolly Rogering, The Devil His Due, Never Take Candy from Strangers, Done Like a Dinner, In the Family Way, Right Up His Alley, and Group Therapy. - all previously published as individual eBooks by loveyoudivine Alterotica. Excerpt "Holy shit, man, get a load of that ass." Jerry focused the binoculars on the fourth floor apartment across the street. With the magnification of those suckers, he could see straight into the living room through the wide-open balcony doors. As wide open as the guy's butthole, if I had my guess. "Here, let me see." Mike snatched the glasses from him. "I told you he was something out of the box," I said from the corner bar where I was topping up our drinks. I threw the empty Bourbon bottle in the trash to join the earlier one we'd already polished off. Jerry, my sleazy boss at Klassic Kars where I worked as a detailer, came back to get his glass. He's chunky, in his early forties, shaven head and a splash of body hair across his chest; definitely a daddy type, but not exactly "attractive" to go with it. "You weren't kidding, Steve. That guy has it all. I could fuck that." I knew for a fact that Jerry wasn't fucking anything at the moment. He was always at me to set him up with one of my single friends. It wasn't gonna happen. Billy sneered. "I don't think there's anything special about him." He hated it when he wasn't the centre of attention. "You're kidding, right?" Mike relinquished the glasses to Jerry, who definitely wanted another look. We'd met Mike at the showroom a few weeks earlier, when he'd come in to give a newly arrived 1956 Buick Century Riviera Four-Door Hardtop the once over. He'd bought it on the spot, counting out the price from a huge wad of high value banknotes he said he always carried in case of emergencies. This guy was seriously wealthy-or a braggart. Maybe both. And dumb as shit to carry around that much cash. Both Jerry and I had pegged him as gay, and Jerry had pegged him as available, something I wasn't, and flirted accordingly. Mike wore baggy blue jeans, navy sneakers and a black cotton T-shirt that hugged his chest so tight his hard nipples could have poked your eye out if you got too close. He looked to be around thirty with shaggy, black hair that he flicked with his fingers to keep it out of his hazel bedroom eyes. I would have been flirting as well, if I hadn't already been in a relationship, although said relationship was as rocky as a row boat in the North Atlantic at the moment. However, we liked to give the outward impression we were the perfect couple. We had been when we first started out five years before. Billy was the five-feet-eight, tanned skinned, blond haired, blue-eyed beauty with the snug little body that had only gotten better and more defined when he'd 'discovered' the gym. I would have said 'obsessed' with the gym since his retrenchment as a sous-chef in a restaurant that didn't survive the economic downturn. That was just one of the problems. I was the other. I'm slightly taller, thinner and two years older at twenty-eight, with dirty blond hair matched with dirty blond eyes. That's what Billy called them when we first met at a bar that was so humid inside we didn't know whether the air conditioning had failed or whether we were so hot for each other we were producing our own power surge.