Hairy Gay Man Novels & Stories

He knew he had me right where he wanted me—hard and desperate. I hissed, watching his hand work my length. His thumb spread the bead of precome around my crown, making me buck like a damn virgin. My body was taut, muscles clenched. "This doesn't make me gay," I told him sharply. "Right, because getting off to a guy's touch definitely doesn't make you gay," Liam muttered, rolling his eyes but never breaking rhythm. "I'm not gay," I gritted out, hips pumping into his tight grip. "You can touch a guy's dick without being fucking homo."

The man named Telly was a lanky and very exterminated guy, his pink hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and his body was riddled with tattoos half covered by a khaki leather jacket. The typical gay with eccentric looks. -Yes this! -If you ask my opinion...he starts by crossing his finger arm and holding the left one in the air with a pointed index finger as if to give more weight to his "Opinion" -I didn't ask you Telly. -I'll tell you anyway. He responds by clicking his tongue. That's a kid! And she's going to get killed! -She's tougher than she looks. -How come, seeing what surrounds her, she hasn't yet taken her legs? She's in love with you, right? Big deal.

“He’s gay, Sydney.” “I’m pansexual.” I corrected Aaron, acknowledging his partner, who was all smiles. He was a complete opposite of me. He had a soft beard, kind eyes and short red hair, while I had chin length pitch-black hair, piercings, tattoos and a resting-bitch face. “Whatever.” Aaron rolled his eyes. “When was the last time you slept with someone who had a vagina?” “Aw, why are all the hot dudes gay?” Sydney, the red-haired, whined, before downing a glass of fruity cocktail.

Have a couple of hookers do a big distraction and send the guy in while my dick was doing the thinking for me. He didn’t have a scary vibe at all, though, and I relaxed a little as I looked him up and down. He was wearing a grin a decibel or two quieter than his ensemble of Hawaiian shirt, shorts, purple sandals, fanny pack, and bicycle messenger bag. Twenty-five or twenty-six, blond hair, goatee. Reasonably good-looking. He wasn’t carrying a piece and he wasn’t interested in the hussies, which meant he was either a homosexual, or part of their team, or he really wanted to talk to me. “Hey, you’re in my view,” I said.

I'll take a shower first before I fight Cyril. I also spent half an hour in the bathroom before I finally came out. I wore dark denim jeans and a black sandal. I paired the shirt with a black leather jacket. I look like I'm a sassy ass gay. I'm still so beautiful. I also wear the shoes that Cyril sent me last time. There's that little knife and I don't know how he did that thing. That gay man is very talented when it comes to things like this so I won't wonder why he sends high tech. I picked up the cellphone. It immediately rang and I immediately saw Cyril's name there.

It seems so natural. I break into a jog and immediately stop when I see someone squatting in front of the lower half of the fridge. He has black shorts on, hugging his fat, juicy and mouth-watering ass. His hair is messy and in a small bun with a big white shirt on. My shaft grows in size as I let out a lustful growl. The boy stops what he is doing and turns around to look at me, surprised. I compose myself as I recognize him as one of the pack pups, sixteen years old, not liked by many because he is openly gay and dresses without a care of his body showing.

And he called me pretty? "Well, in case you are wondering, it's been so damn long since I had girl time, it's always work and the hideout. And we don't usually have female presence over here. That's by the way though, spill." He looked really excited while I looked on in amazement. He just transformed from an intimidating man to….well, I'd say a gossip in seconds. My eyes fell to his lips and that was when it hit me. Trigger was gay. Well no man would line his lips with brow pencil if not gay. Right?

Maybe now the bitch would have a better chance of hooking a big fish if her toughest competition wasn’t around. She’d also spent the day going over every possibility behind Grayson’s shady deal. He was secretly gay, had some horrible disease, a grotesque deformity under his clothes, a tiny dick, a third nipple, was hardcore into bondage and had killed a lover, he was a serial killer, had genital warts, or was just horrible in the bedroom. So many possibilities and Amber had encountered a great deal of them in the club. Like the dude who had a small tail off his ass bone. That was a surprise under his designer suit indeed.

the gay man enthusiastically introduced himself when he entered Venus' house and saw her sitting on the long sofa. "Hi! Sir, I'm Natasha," she immediately stood up and shook hands with him. "Oh, don't call me "Sir" please. Just call me Fenny, okay?" "Okay, F-fenny," she agreed smiling. She was even more stunned when the gay man's face suddenly became serious as he looked at her hair curled up again like a ball. "Girl, isn't that a bird's nest? When was the last time your hair got introduced to scissors?" Absentmindedly, she was already holding the clump of hair above her head when the gay man came over to touch it.

“Not all men are abusive assholes. Don’t give up on the rest of us.” He had been so tender and gentle. Something that she was not expecting from a man like him. He was muscular like Reese, but several inches shorter and less bulky. His long black hair was shaved on the sides and braided down to his mid back. When he spoke with that deep baritone, you could vaguely glimpse a silver tongue piercing.