Manhood Books Novels & Stories

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"We come to the public and we pretend as if we are saints sent from heaven but no and no we weren't saints and we seek the implementation of the gay bill acts. Let men marry men, it's a matter of choice.” “The acts bill put an end to women breaking the heart of man. Falling in love just because he is wealthy. Rushing to the marriage registry and after a few months breaking the news of divorce to the entire world." “Making a penury woman to become a billionaire in a twinkle of an eye. We men aren't fools anymore. We want to work hard as we have always done and marry ourselves." " A man can take care of a man and we are not interested in the damned pussy at the center leg of a woman.”

The bookshelf was just as tall as Andrew so he could easily access the books there. The bookshelf had all sorts of books, ranging from fictional novels to nonfictional novels, to educational novels and textbooks. Her eyes caught titles like; The Redwall series by Brian Jacques, Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink, The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros and a lot more. Even the Encyclopedia was in his bookshelf. And there was also some novels on the basis of business and finance. The book the lad was currently reading was The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie.

“Dom wasn’t the one who reached out to me for your marriage. I did. Partly because I had to choose a wife, but I chose you because I wanted to.” I remained quiet, not knowing how to react to his confession. He was a Made-man, an Underboss, so he would always be a version of a monster in the eyes of normal people, but since I was a part of the same world, a man who had confessed his true emotions was the closest these men could get to being good.

I never expected that entering that club to learn about sex would actually teach my heart how to love. Not that it was my first time falling in love, but this kind of love… Who would have thought I’d find it with a ruthless Mafia boss? A genuine love. He gave me a reason to understand my own worth as a woman. That someone like me could be loved — and deserved to be loved. Marco Valenti taught me that even the scariest person in the world was capable of love.

“I want to tell you what kind of book it is. Not what the back cover says you’ve read that. What I think it actually is.” I looked at the room. “It’s a book about a man,” I said. “Specifically, a particular man his hands, his voice, the strong black tea he drank every morning for thirty years, the way he cried at my school graduation and didn’t pretend he hadn’t. The way he cooked on Saturday afternoons and believed, without sentimentality, that paying full attention to the small things was the substance of a life.” I paused. “It’s also a book about what happened to him. What was constructed and deployed against him by people who found him threatening and found it convenient to remove him. W

Arian's pov I never thought a book club meeting could feel like a battlefield. Today, we are reading The Art of Forbidden by Linda Lively, and from the very moment I flipped through its pages, my face had been hot. The story is about a powerful president who was secretly in love with his male secretary, and if that wasn’t bold enough, the prose was filled with intimacy, longing, and heat. Naturally, everyone thought it would be for people to take turns reading aloud. But I wasn't really in the mood to read, not after what the police said to me.

I was still in the clouds as I was in the middle of two singularly handsome men who were fighting over me. I have read in books that many heroines feel offended by being treated like a bone in the middle of two pit bulls, but I just think that’s only because something like that has not happened to the writers. You feel powerful, important, and beautiful; whoever says otherwise is simply lying. I was sitting on the sofa a few feet from the door waiting for him, when it opened and Mark came in like a maniac looking for me with his eyes, when he found me, he threw the door so hard that even the windows shook.

I'd secretly wanted to for years but I never thought I was close enough to the type of guy he likes. Man, oh man! I couldn't even tell you how many men were inside me. Or how many I was inside of. Practically every one of them was addictive! Big, long, hard, rubbery, torpedo shaped, giant, thick, thin, you name it, everything a man could ever hope for was right there. In me, on me, against me, around me; there were slime covered bodies slipping and sliding - it was way better than ALL of my fantasies!

He leaned back against the counter, flipping the cover open. On the first page, written in bold, uneven handwriting, were the words: “A Secret Collection of Male Confessions.” Adam let out a quiet breath, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Confessions?” he murmured. “What kind of confessions…” He turned the page. The handwriting inside was rougher, heavier, different from one section to the next, like multiple voices trapped in ink. Different men. Different stories. His curiosity sharpened. He kept reading.