Gay Sci Fi Books Novels & Stories

What I found was a world of explicit, detailed stories about aunts and nephews. Stories of seduction, of secret affairs, of dominant young men and submissive older women. I read one, then another. My face grew hot, my breathing shallow. Without even consciously deciding to, my hand slipped under the waistband of my linen trousers, my fingertips finding my clit, already sensitive from last night. The stories were graphic, filthy, and utterly compelling. They painted pictures of aunts who were initially reluctant but secretly hungry, who were awakened by their nephew's bold desire. They talked about submission, about being called names, about the thrill of the forbidden.

Her eyes do not leave it, and I become much more horny with the way she stares at my cock. Do you see this, racist man? Your girl is so amazed at the black person’s cock. “Do you want to taste it? If you want to, just do it. You’re allowed to touch and taste it.” I smirked evilly at her. She gulped, and I saw her chest moving, indicating that she’s nervous... or excited? “I already have a b-boyfriend.” I chuckled and held the garter of my boxer shorts. I saw her follow it quickly.

The book with the red cover! “OMG!” Aki gasped. “Is this really it?” “Aye,” Sasha said. “You… stole… a book… from the library?” was the first thought that filled Aki’s mind. “Umm…” Sasha was taken aback. “Aye but it was for a good cause.” Temujin and Aki weren’t listening anymore. Their eyes were devouring the book. The title on the front cover was long. “The Feasibility of Using Galvinism for Ki Reanimation,” Temujin read aloud and then he and Aki both gasped.

“Why would I enjoy watching you? The sight of you sickens me.” William looked down at his pelvis and up with a smile, “If I make you sick, then why are you hard?” Pete’s hand immediately darted to cover the growing bulge in his sweats, his heart slamming against his ribs. William stepped forward without hesitation, crowding his space. He grabbed Pete’s wrists and shoved them aside, pinning him to the cold, tiled wall. His grip was deceptively strong for someone as lean as he was. He rubbed Pete’s cock through the fabric, his eyes widening at the size. “Ouu,” he moaned, “what a big boy we have here.”

I was surprised because he was still standing there, staring at me. "Let's go out together, I'll just pee for a while." I was left speechless as he finally entered a cubicle. Oh my ghad. This is it! I would have liked to follow but I might have stumbled. It's hard for me to have a black-eyed. Because I was so silly I waited for it. Moments later I heard the door open. My eyes widened and I immediately averted my eyes because he was still closing his zipper. God! I can just close it.

I fell asleep exhausted, thighs sticky, still whispering Daniel’s name. Days blurred together. Texts turned into voice notes where I moaned for him. Calls became arguments mixed with desperate dirty talk. My body was in constant heat , nipples always sensitive, pussy perpetually wet and aching. I bought more toys. I rode a thick dildo on the couch one afternoon, bouncing on it while watching a video of a man fucking a woman from behind, imagining it was us. My moans filled the apartment as I came, grinding down hard, but again… it wasn’t enough.

I wonder how gay people make love, never have I ever been attracted to any man other than Ethan. I instantly g****e 'How do gay people make out?' I see pictures, videos, and GIFs of men kissing, groping, and grinding nakedly. Oh god. I click on one of the links, the site is full of gay p**n with weird titles; Shakespeare in lust. Once upon a time in cock-tale. Tales of the dark hole. Star Trek: The next penetration. I cringe as I read their titles, but I scroll down anyway. Curiosity takes me to the amateur category.

she says with a manic smile. “Your plan is a comeback, Sarissa,” I said dryly, unimpressed. “Not just any type of comeback,” she clarifies, “I have to write a book in the same genre she excels in, using her tropes but taking it up a notch enough to beat her off her own genre and throw her off the market completely, until she is a forgotten name that no one remembers.” “Gabi Fraser only writes books on the Mafia-billionaire genre. You have never written in that genre before, Sarissa. You don't know anything about it,” I tell her.

Nikolai's not much of a reader, but who knows? I tug open the top drawer absentmindedly, expecting condoms or chapstick or whatever normal shit people keep there. Holy. Fuck. My eyes widen, heat rushing to my face as I stare down at the contents. There's a long, thick dildo—black silicone, veiny and realistic-looking, probably eight inches easy—nestled next to a bottle of lube. And other stuff: a couple of plugs in different sizes, some leather cuffs with soft lining; a blindfold; and what looks like a cock ring, vibrating maybe?