The streets are swarming with men of the muck, and their hideous fashions.
Archive for the category Fiction
Fiction stories and poems by the Gaysi to be read by all.
“Juss, come closer and taste this,” she said this with a notorious smile in her eyes.
You told me you get “too emotionally involved.” You invest too much, I corrected.
When all the gay boys get their shit together, go to the gym and get fit
If I could, I would. But I won't. For I can stay in forever And never be found out.
As she adjusts her position on the bed, she feels the gentle grazing of her flaccid nipples against her thin cotton t-shirt.
Do letters always have to begin with a "Hey, How are you" ? Because right now I really can't be bothered with pleasantries. I know this letter will find you well, in any case.
Being the curious me, I read up a bit about transmen and their sexuality. Even watched some queer porn to somehow figure if I could play the part of a gay man fucking a transguy. Cock and cunt? Let's see, I said to myself.
I remember the last time I saw you. We were both crying. I squeezed you in my arms and said "You owe me one last kiss.
Hold me. Stay here. I'd like to feel. Don't...Don't go away for I like your smell.
Writing would help. She hastily got out of of her and grabbed a pen and paper. The words poured out instantly, as though they were desperate to be released.
It really was 'A Bad Day'. The script was haunting me. Backstage drama had reached its peak. I stormed out of the green room and walked. Simply walked. It was the eve of the performance.
It was one of those busy days. As I was walking up the college driveway, I saw her walk inside the gate. She was fiddling with her phone. I tried to hide but, I couldn't take my eyes off her.
Finally, after giving me, what She thought were adequate chances to respond, she held my hand firmly. Not just with love, not just as comfort but as a command, she caught my gaze and dared me to look away with her eyes. I didn’t.
We were four pitchers down. It was the fifth date. Alcohol gave her liquid courage she said. It was just verbal diarrhea, I thought.
When I thought of meeting you, My heart jumped and my trepidation grew
I share this comfortable space with you, where I don’t need to say anything, you figure it out anyway. Sometimes I rant; sometimes I don’t say a word. And you are always there with your cup of tea.
Like bumping my toe against obstructive wood, I savour the pain, instead of doing as I should. I ache and ache, But I refuse to break
There we were. Sitting in a coffee shop. Talking, sharing and bonding