Ten Gay Drabbles

(a drabble is exactly 100 words long)

by Anel Viz

Adam

He stood motionless on the platform in front of the class, naked as Adam and as beautiful, a bitten apple in his right hand that hung limply by his side and, dangling in front of his equally limp member, a fig leaf attached to a thread tied round his waist.

“Look ashamed,” the instructor ordered him. “You’ve just eaten of the Tree of Knowledge and know you’re naked.”

Ashamed of what? He’d posed naked thousands of times. If anything he felt silly, and that ridiculous fig leaf tickled the head of his cock. Couldn’t they just imagine it was there?

Laughter

They laughed often. Not the bitter laughter of mockery or remorse, but impish, gleeful laughter – giggles, chuckles, guffaws, enormous belly laughs. They laughed at jokes, at the absurdity of situations, at their own and each other’s silliness, or laughter welled up in them simply out of happiness, the bright ring of splintering glass.

Sometimes in the middle of lovemaking a random thought would strike one of them as funny, and like a contagion would have them both laughing, though his partner didn’t know at what, laughing uncontrollably till tears ran down their cheeks as cleansing as the tears of grief.

Cut

His customers never suspected the intense sexual pleasure he got cutting men’s hair. All styles, all types of hair – curly, straight, thick, fine – aroused him. On the job he wore a loose-fitting smock that concealed his erection, and he stood back from the man he was working on and took care not to brush against his upper arm.

When he finished, after they’d paid him and he’d handed them a receipt, he swept the clippings into a neat pile and emptied them into the trash. Lifeless and inert, they held no erotic power over him, not even as a memory.

Wergild

How could Thrain contest the compensation awarded him for the killing of his hired man? Nobody knew the bond between them, the caresses, the kisses, the delirium of penetration, alone together in the sheepfold far from the homestead.

“Such a paltry sum! Lambi was a good worker.”

And then his enemy’s insult, the aspersion cast on his manhood.

That was worth more, the price of the secret murder of a brother or a grown son.

He named witnesses, and reaped honor when he refused the settlement. Let Kotkel look to his neck! It would feel the bite of his axe.

The Rainbow Gang

Once upon a time three very distinguished and respectable gentlemen lived together in a ménage-à-trois. Mr. Brown blue Mr. Green, who blue Mr. White, who in turn blue Mr. Brown. In summer they spent their weekends at their friend Mr. Black's farm, where they’d ride his favorite horse, Mr. Ed (of course, of course.) Mr. Black was no less distinguished than they, but his guests felt uncomfortable with his flamboyant drag queen lover, who went by the name of Violet, so when they came to visit she made herself discreetly invisible, becoming Ultra Violet, somewhere over (or under) the rainbow.

Sleeping Naked

Why do mothers insist on their sons wearing pajamas? Why do so many men keep their boxers on when they go to bed? One’s cock and balls need to air out. What are the chances that fire or an earthquake will send you scurrying naked into the street? And what if it does? Will you care who’s seen your arse when your home and all your possessions have been destroyed? Would anyone dare make fun of you under the circumstances? More likely a sympathetic neighbor will hand you a blanket and say, “Here, big guy, throw this over your shoulders.”

Wanking

Masturbation does not cause insanity. Allow me to cite myself in evidence. Have I shocked you? What shame is there in admitting what every rational being takes for granted? People, most of them men, have seen me spill my seed, a white pool dribbling down my belly. I beat off before I lost my virginity, and kept up the practice afterwards. I still do – regularly enough, if a bit less often – and I shall go on doing so for as long as I can get it up and as long as I have a right hand. It gives me pleasure.

A Blasphemy

The taste of semen, the hot, salty spurt, creamy, viscous, that coats the back of your tongue and is greedily swallowed while his hard cock still pulsates at the edge of your throat. His groan seems to say that his last drop of energy drained out of him in that savory liquid, but it was the throes of orgasm that exhausted him. Wringing it from him was an act of worship, lowering your face over the slick, sensitive shaft an adoration.

It is what comes out of a man’s mouth that makes him unclean, not what he takes into it.

Explication de Tex

32 yr old white Christian male,

– maybe I ought to stop here –

professional, financially secure,

– translation: 6-figure income –

5'11", 185 lbs, 45" chest, 33" waist, 16½" biceps, 24" thighs, 7½" uncut cock,

– Woof! –

former college athlete, straight acting & appearing, out, comfortable with his sexuality,

– and mine? –

not into the bar scene, likes sports, the outdoors, adventure, travel, quiet evenings at home, dogs,

– as I said: “Woof!” –

white wine, pasta, sushi, musicals,

– oh yes, very straight acting –

seeks same

– or reasonable facsimile thereof –

for friendship, mutual exploration, wild sex, LTR & more

– there’s more? –

reply to Tex @ box 5637

Herakles

Hero and demigod, a figure of irrepressible power, his fearless brow is set on glorious deeds; his closed lips show neither anger nor joy. The Nemean lion-skin, draped capelike on his back, its crossed paws knotted below his neck, claws hard against his breastbone, leaves his mighty arms free to toil and conquer. Our gaze wanders down, past his flat, tawny nipples, over the firm, rippled abdomen and tangle of golden pubic curls, and lingers a moment on the soft, barely swelling manhood reposing in front of his thighs, massive as oaks. His calves seem about to explode in motion.