Sexy Gay Stories - Volume Five - three m/m short stories

of the bench, slightly lifted off the seat and his legs strained forward almost locking me in. Then with one hand caressing his leg, I bobbed my head up and down on his cock ’til he bucked his hips, once, then twice, fucking my mouth back and forth with deliberate and sensitive authority, as he hoisted himself off the bench, half standing, half sitting moaning ‘Good God!’ as he exploded onto my tongue, a warm eruption that filled my mouth like a salt-heavy wave coolly cresting to a creamy fizz. I swallowed hard. I kept his limpid cock in my mouth until he’d emptied himself.
    Then I let go of his spent cock and licked my lips. I stood up, dazed by the heat, panting, and I kissed his forehead and sat down beside him, drenched in sweat, my own cock aching and hard. As he opened his pale blue eyes and smilingly recovered from his bliss, he put his hand on my leg and pinched my thigh just above my knee and the tickle and spasm almost made me come. 
    ‘You know, I train amateur boxers,’ he said pointing at my stiff cock, ‘and those fighters, the good ones, they told me, they never get themselves off within 24 hours of a big match. It’s not easy, but, it seems, having blue balls help maintain their testosterone levels in the ring. Remember that when you sit before your firing squad at work today.’ 
    Then he kissed my scalp. I stared as he towelled off his still enormous cock and slipped into his boxers. He signalled for me to wrap myself in my towel, and as I did, he tore the sheeting off the door’s window. ‘You are Satanic,’ I said.
    He bent over, tied his sneakers, his firm ass in my face, and then he turned around, tugged his T-shirt down over the belt of his shorts and blew me a kiss. ‘Go knock them out at your review,’ he said, winking. ‘For me.’

    Of course I passed that review with flying colours. In fact, as my bosses droned on and peppered me with their increasingly impotent line of questions, I barely felt like I was in that conference room at all. The window above their heads was filled with warm autumn sunshine and the light had steamed up the room, like a sauna. 
    I answered each of their final questions as if my words were Fisk’s tight and thick body itself: my answers were so toned, so assured and so supple that my questioners had no choice but to sweetly swallow all I said. 
    As I was being thanked for my “firm responses”, I thought of Fisk slipping into his sneakers and tearing that sign off the sauna door, and I wondered if my bosses could tell how happy I was. Not so much because I’d passed their tough review but because, between my legs, it was achingly obvious that I was eager to get back to the gym to thank Satan once again.

Anger by Thomas Fuchs

    Most of the time you wouldn’t have known it, but Bobby Lo had a lot of anger in him. Sometimes, he got really violent. Of course, sometimes he had good reason.
    There was the time a few years ago when he was in a bar, a straight bar, and a woman was talking to him, flirting with him. If anything, he liked women more now that he’d come out; he could just enjoy them. But this woman was playing a dangerous game, because a jealous guy came over, a white guy, nasty looking, wiry and tough and a little drunk.
    The white guy pulled the girl roughly, almost jerked her off her feet. Bobby didn’t like that but when the white guy gave him a look, challenging him to do something about it, Bobby said nothing. He knew he should control himself.
    The white guy said to the woman, ‘You be a good girl, now. I’m telling you.’
    ‘We was just talking.’ The way she said it she wasn’t defying him. It was a plea. 
    ‘Don’t talk to strangers,’ he said and then, after a pause he added, ‘Anyways, he’s a Jap. All them Oriental guys got little dicks.’
    Bobby felt he had to respond to that. ‘I’m not Japanese,’ he said. 
    ‘Well, ’scuse me.’
    ‘Japanese people are very good, but I am Chinese American.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘And my dick ...’
    ‘Yeah?’
    ‘It’s big enough to make you scream.’
    The guy let go of the girl. He really couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
    ‘You said what?’
    ‘You shouldn’t say bad things about Asian guys. Maybe you want to take it back.’
    Of course the guy didn’t take it back. He said, ‘Fuck you!’ and swung on Bobby. Bobby caught his arm and stepped around behind him at the same time, locking the white guy’s arm across his throat. He held it there