Gay Erotic Stories
MenOnTheNet.com
1109
by Max sprouse
Popular Blogs From MenOnTheNet.com
35 Gay Erotic Stories from Max sprouse
[name]
ideas are nothing outside the system within which they derive their identity from their opposition to other ideas. anika lemaire : jacques lacan - q: what’s your name? a: (pause) you know my name. q: this is just for the tape. a: (pause) you’re not going to use it, are you? q: if i write about it i’ll change your name. a: [name]. q: age? a: thirty-two. q: occupation? a:
1107
1107 knock knock knock. silence. knock knock knock. "what is it." "it's me. let me in." howie crawled out of bed and stumbled to the door. "what time is it, man." "i don't know. about one." "jesus, man. i've got to get up early tomorrow." "i do too." "what do you want." "can i stay here tonight." "what. you two fight
1108
1108 bang bang bang. "A. J.!" Bang, bang, bang. "A. J.”! Open up!" A. J.. opened the door to his room. The sound of wu-tang jumped out into the hall. "Bri, my man. What the fuck." "Give me that." Brian grabbed the beer out of A. J.'s hand as he stomped into the room. "What is your problem, dude." "Nick." "Shit, man. I don't want you
1109
1109 what the hell was that, kevin thought. i'm just getting back after looking for sex all night, and a.j.'s already done. i wonder what kind of trash bitch he found tonight. i don't know how he does it. he's not that good-looking. i'm better looking than he is. everybody says so. how come he gets all the action and i spend hours wandering the streets without so much
Alley
alley area. it was not a good neighborhood to be in. not if you were a nice person. about ten blocks away from downtown, it lay on both sides of a thoroughfare not known for high class. if you mentioned cabell street to someone, their first thought was of liquor stores and hookers. there were those. and on-their-way-to-derelict apartment
Ballad, Part 1
josh grew up in kansas. josh grew up gay in kansas and that meant that he grew up in his kansas, a kansas that he was different from the kansas seen by the people around him. as he grew up, he realized in what way his kansas was different. the people around him—he was sure—did not see the world and its inhabitants as he did. he believed they saw the guy who worked at the gas
Ballad, Part 2
kree . . . kree . . . kree . . . kree . . . josh heard the cricket chirping. it pulsed above the other noises. the steady low rush of the water. the occasional whisper of wind through the trees above him. josh couldn’t sleep. at first he blamed it on setting up his tent hurriedly. he should have searched out a different campsite. the ground was hard here. then he blamed it on
Bath
it burns. it burns my skin. how can water burn my skin? when i first turn on the water, it takes it about two minutes to get as hot as i know it can get. or as hot as i know i can bear. then i put the plug in. it takes another ten minutes for the bathtub to fill up to the level i need. enough time to figure out what music to play. usually i don’t take this kind of bath
Behavior
it’s one of those stories that starts and ends in the bar. it was a saturday night and i was being my usual raunchy self. the single life appeals to me and i have learned how to do it well. so i was working the bar like a horny gay man. this performance—as such it is—consisted of posing suggestively, walking boldly, and drinking madly. the intention was to portray a
Blowing Stupid Boys
bow down before the one you serve :nine inch nails ‘head like a hole’ * * oh, i always recognize temptation. i don’t always resist it but i always recognize it just before i leap off the cliff. i can tell that it’s temptation by an inconvenient voice in my mind that says ‘you know, max, this might not really be the best idea in the world’. it’s a voice i usually ignore. *
bouquet
helllllllloooooooooo :bobberrrrrrrrrrrrr? are you there? :whoooooooooo +yes cal im here +i wasnt sleeping :soory. i just got home +no problem :sorry :what time is it there :what time is it there :i didn’t want to call too late +no problem :were you asleep? +no, just resting :should i go +no +whats up? :nothing. just got home. told you id call so here iam +how was the
Brickport
“hey.” “hey.” “don’t get up.” “what time is it?” “about four.” “where have you been.” “brickport.” “brickport?” “yeah.” “oh . . . why?” “i went home with someone.” “oh.” “yeah . . . well.” “i see.” “go back to sleep.” “not yet . . . i was worried.” “i was o.k.” “i’m sure.” “hey.” “i know, i know.” “we said
Butt Fuck Nebraska
the letter gary walked in, sorting through the mail. “anything interesting?” “no. bill. bill. the ‘advocate’. junk. ‘you may already be a winner’ . . .” “i like to think so.” “a postcard from jim and tommy.” “bitches.” “the beach looks nice.” “tan bitches.” “oh, good. a letter from mom.” “b- . . . how nice.” “hey!” “she’s your mother but she’s my mother-in-law. she’s just
Dangerboy
six months ago it was early morning and some of the company were outside the station. we were sitting around drinking our coffee, watching the steam rise as we warmed our hands on the cups. the sun had made an appearance shortly before, the morning fog was evaporating, and nobody was doing much talking. still waking up. jim broke the silence. “anybody know anything
Dare
When I showed you his picture in the paper, and I told you that I had met him, you wanted to know the circumstances. I didn't want to go into it then, because it was in the early stages of our relationship, and I didn't know how you would take it. Besides, when I said that he had been a trick, you didn't look like you believed me. He wasn't exactly a trick. I don't know
fight club--the missing scenes
SCENE ONE (exterior, the house on paper street. it is raining.) (interior, jack’s room. the sound of water dripping into coffee tins, washbasins, etc., but we can see that they are all full and the water is simply running off onto the floor. jack—wearing a dirty grey t-shirt, boxer shorts, and army boots—is hunched beneath a blanket reading a magazine. suddenly, he jumps
jail tale
“what happened to theseus and pirithous in the end?” “that was the end—their last adventure was down to hades and they were caught, bound in invisible chains. theseus was rescued finally but he had to leave his friend behind. in the chain the love of comrades cannot take away.” tom stoppard: the invention of love i was in the wrong bar. i was looking down at the fat pink cock of
Life In The Forest
i was not in a good mood when i got home. as i loosened my tie, robbie came out of the kitchen. “what’s up, babe?” “urgh,” i grunted. he chuckled. “oh, did him have a bad day at work?” i grunted again as i flopped down in my chair. he came over and stood behind me. he began massaging my shoulders. “yes him did. him is all tired and grumpy.” having my shoulders rubbed felt
memory : the van
memory : the van where and when this happened to me, i don't want to be too specific about. let's just say it was some place in the south, before. i would like one of the guys involved to see this. when i was in college i didn't have a car. so when there was a concert i wanted to go to, i had to hitch. that wasn't much of a problem. if it was a popular concert,
metal
“how about you put a knife up my ass.” “i’d love to.” “no, i mean it.” | “that’s really sick.” “well, yes.” “and you could hurt yourself.” | “how about it.” “no, i told you.” | “how about now.” “what’s the matter with you.” | “you know what i’m thinking.” “no, what.” “about that knife.” “forget it.” | “i could do it myself, you know.” “what.” “the knife.” “jesus.”
mystery achievement
one i got the job because i was a gay man who knew how to keep his mouth shut. it’s a rarer quality in these days than some might think. that’s not the entire reason, but it’s a good place to start. the real beginning was with kevin. now, kevin did not show up at the bars all that much. i might see him there maybe once a month. but he always spoke to me, and i remembered him
Photograph
i have always had a thing for dark-eyed men. i don’t mean italians or greeks or the others with mediterranean blood. i mean the ones with dark circles around their eyes, or eyes that are slightly sunken in their faces. the ones who look like they haven’t been sleeping well. the ones who have a haunted mournful look. even the ones who look like they’ve been in a fight. black eyes
Real
i got off the chatroom because i’m not a fuckin’ whore, like those other guys. yeah, if your name is holepig, i’m talkin’ to you. yeah. right. if i stay in both friday and saturday night, it drives me crazy. i really only regretted friday night because that’s my dancing night. who was it? martha graham? “wherever a dancer stands ready, that spot is holy ground.” ----------- the
Spider's House
do you know how to get to spider’s house? xxxxxxxx i do. xxxxxxxx does that make me special? not really. a lot of guys know how to get there. but then a lot more guys have heard about it—and want to go, badly—and don’t know where it is. xxxxxxxx if you’re really pestering someone, they’ll eventually get tired of you and give you the directions. but they know that you’ll never
Stuff
“that’ll be $150 for two guys.” “fine.” “per hour.” “fine.” moving is such a bitch. you collect stuff. this lamp from your first apartment. this couch from your first lover. this bed from your third lover. these dishes, those cd’s. and it’s all important. when you move, you have to take it all with you. after a while i learned it was better not to bother
summer sun
i. by that august, i had been with doug for two years. not ‘with’ in the sense of living with him. but i had been his boy for two years. i had had one daddy before. but now i was with doug. ii. it was early august when he told me that we were going away for the weekend. so on friday afternoon i was packed and waiting for him when he drove up to my apartment building. we
the best years of our lives
he and i had been lovers for a while. i had left my first lover for him. there may have been some bad behavior on my part. my first lover was out of town and i had picked up the one who would be my next lover in a bar. we got it off and hit it off and started meeting on the sly. many lies and excuses for lateness to the first lover, of course, so that the new one and i could
the ghost of danny boyd
i open my eyes and look out into the dark of the bedroom. i don’t think i have been asleep. maybe i have been. i had been drifting, trying. as the few seconds pass i separate the blocks of black and grey, identifying them. those long lines are the curtains, that square is the chest, the silver whisper is the mirror. their blurred edges and indistinct borders blend the dark and
The Hold
i’m gonna quote a line like, like, from, from, uh, yeats i think it is, like from him, and that’s called the best lack all conviction while the best are filled, no, no, it’s the other way around, the best lack all conviction (laughs) and the worst are filled with a passion and intensity now you figure out where i am.” lou reed live—take no prisoners (1978) — my apartment was the
the quiet boy
“come here.” “what?” “come here.” “why?” “because i said so, you stupid fuck.” “oh.” “stand here.” “here?” “yes.” “ . . .” “ . . .” “now what?” “shut up.” “yes, sir.” “ . . . ” “ . . . ” “ . . . ” “ . . . ” “take off your pants.” “yes, sir.” he did. i got on my knees in front of him and began to suck his cock. it went from soft to hard right away. well, i’m a good
The Sound Of His Voice
one .. “you’re going to listen to me and do everything that i say.” his arms were stretched forward, palms flat against the wall on either side of my head. he leaned into me, emphasizing the words with his steady gaze. i kept looking into his eyes. .. maybe i should go back a bit. .. it had been a rough couple of months. i had been dating this one guy for a while—four dates,
this week
the complexity of the ngor mandalas mirrors the complexity of vajrayana ritual. the combination of the intricate image and the equally involved literary texts associated with the mandala, as for all vajrayana ritual, means that the task facing the devotee would be overwhelming without the direct involvement of the guru as a guide through these layers of religious worship. —robert e.
to...
my friend john lived in a village west of oxford. every year or so, when i made a trip to london to visit my publisher, i would tear myself away from the museums and the theaters—and the bars and the british men with their sweet and sexy accents—to visit him for a few days. after several weeks in the city, it was nice to get away and savor some quiet country life. and i did
Triangle
“does he HAVE to be a virgin?” i wondered. adam looked at me. “if he does, we’re shit out of luck here.” i scanned the bar. “this is a pretty tacky bunch,” i agreed. “monsters everywhere, and very few gods.” “i haven’t seen a god in here for ages.” “for that matter, i haven’t seen god himself in here for a long time either.” “i see god when i’m dancing.” “yeah, well. that’s
up against it 1999
“anything worth doing, is worth doing in public.” —joe orton: up against it (1967) (title and opening credits. music: the ad libs, “boy from new york city.) (scene: florida, summer.) (fade up to four young men in a convertible). nick: man, i can’t wait to get to the beach. jeff: yeah, it’s hot. drew: it’s too fuckin’ hot.
Popular Blogs From MenOnTheNet.com
