Gay Male Stories

Hendry Arnaud Camden came from a long line of wealth. Hendry was groomed to be one of the successors of his family's wealth. With all the strict rules and family values he developed a certain way of thinking. Nothing was beyond his grasp and when a certain beautiful woman catches his eyes, he'd do anything, literally anything to get her. ***** Callie was betrothed to her childhood best friend, Brody Anderson Curran. But then his best friend Hendry started to flirt with her, and when she started to fall for the temptation she was conflicted with her choices. ***** Since his college days, Brody had always been secretly in love with his best friend Hendry. He never thought of himself as gay, but Henry was always too charming to ignore. They had fooled around in college and Brody was a goner for his buddy. Knowing that he would never get anywhere with his crush, Brody decided to listen to his parents and dated Callie. All was well until his best friend Hendry took interest in Callie also. ***** Being an assistant to one of the boss's billionaire heir sons was a dream come true for Sloan Bryson. He had always considered himself sexually fluid. Never identify himself as gay, but not quite as hetero as his girlfriends would say. One thing is for sure, Sloan was deeply infatuated with his boss Hendry. To make things worse for himself, Sloan would imagine how it would feel like being with Hendry and his bestie Brody. The two men dripped with confidence and Sloan had always been a sucker for gorgeous men with the power to abuse. **** Will Hendry get what he wants? Will Callie fall for the right man? Will Sloan and Brody ever get together? Too many possibilities of steamy encounters?

I'd loved my childhood friend, Colleen Decker, for ten years, until a car accident changed everything. She loses the ability to walk and never stands again. Her fiance, Ronald Coleman, and other self-proclaimed admirers disappear overnight. Even the Decker family turns their backs on her, cutting her off as the heiress. I'm the only one who stays by her side. I drop out of school and spend two years caring for her, doing everything I can to find the best specialists in the country. However, the moment she gets back on her feet—during the proposal I'd prepared—she announces in front of everyone that she's continuing her engagement to Ronald. When I confront her, Colleen grabs my hand, her voice soft and earnest. "Lucius, I'm not doing this because I want to. I'm marrying him to get back at him for walking away from me back then. You have to believe me. I only love you." But during a game of Truth or Dare, Ronald draws the King card. He points at me and says, "Lucius, choose any girl here and kiss her for one minute." I look to Colleen for help, but she turns her head away. "Don't look at me. I belong to Ronald now."

Our third wedding anniversary was coming up, but my wife, a programmer at a major tech company, suddenly claimed she had to work overtime to meet deadlines. She said she couldn't go on the trip we'd planned. That very afternoon, however, her intern posted a video on social media. My wife—the same woman who normally wouldn't even open a door for fear of chipping her manicure—was holding a screwdriver, repairing an old flip phone. The caption read: [Having a programmer wife is the best. Even when Grandma's phone breaks, we don't need to pay for repairs.] I chuckled, liked the post, and commented: [Right up her alley.] Within minutes, the company group chat exploded. There were over ninety-nine unread messages speculating on when I'd finally snap. Not long after, my wife called. Her voice was ice-cold. "What was that comment supposed to mean? How is Shawn supposed to face anyone at work now? "His grandma's phone broke, so I fixed it. What's the problem? Your parents have always spoiled you. You can't possibly understand real hardship. "Delete the comment. I'll make it up to you over the New Year; we can take that trip then." The New Year? I'd already waited through two other major public holidays. I'd even taken special leave for this trip, and she still bailed. Now she was dangling empty promises again? I hung up on her. My leave ended around the same time as our divorce cooling-off period.

The seventh time Claire Fisher bailed on our marriage license appointment, I finally cut her out of my life—for good. From then on, if she was at a party, I wasn't. When she was scheduled to perform at our college's anniversary celebration, I made sure to leave early. The moment my company announced a collaboration with hers, I resigned without a second thought. Even on Christmas Eve, when she showed up at my parents' house with gifts, I slipped out with a half-hearted excuse about "visiting a friend." I blocked her number. Deleted her from my contacts. Burned every bridge and salted the earth behind me. No calls. No texts. No social media. I didn't reach out. She couldn't reach me. Simple as that. For the better part of my life, I was hopelessly in love with her—waiting on her, caring for her, putting her first in every way that mattered. I gave her all of me without ever holding back. But after the seventh time she left me sitting alone at the City Hall, something inside me broke. I was done. If that meant spending the rest of my life alone, so be it. Better that than sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the silence, holding on to hope for someone who never planned to show up.

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

To save my wife, my lungs were pierced by a knife, leaving lasting consequences. When I fell ill and struggled to breathe, she said I was dramatic and went on a business trip with her childhood friend. When she returned, I found a man's underwear in her suitcase that did not belong to me. I calmly made the call: "Director, I've made up my mind. I'm going to assist in Avrika." Later, at the airport, she bent down, publicly lowering her head and begging for my forgiveness.

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. IF YOU’RE UNDER 18, MOVE ALONG. Atlas of His Flesh is a scorching BL erotica Anthology of over 100 stories that take you across genres, timelines and, universes and galaxies, exploring the steamy tension between men fated, forbidden or enemies. Disclaimer: Every story is about Man×Man Romance, don't expect anything else.

What will Hosun and Jun give in to, in order to be free? Jung Hosun, a broke college student gets kidnapped the same night Doctor Kim Jun also gets kidnapped. This because of a huge misunderstanding. Coincidence is, they're both made captives of very powerful, wealthy and influential men. Min Yoonjin and Kim Namgyu are both CEOs of two different companies that are linked by a partnership deal. These two are friends and are both involved in the Mafia business, unbeknownst to the outside world. What happens when these powerful men end up with handsome and innocent prisoners?

What do you fear the most? Matthew's only fear is coming out as gay to his family, who are devoutly religious and consider homosexuality a sin. But when he heard from his doctor that he had less than three months left to live. Matthew decided that living his truth was more important than his fears. He planned on telling his family his sexuality, and also, confessing his feelings to his longtime crush, the son of a Deacon, Keith who was every lady's dream in college. But what if Keith is just like everyone else? Would Matt's last wish come true before the end of his days on Earth? And what happens when all that glitters does seem to be gold?