The Spotter
So here's how I ended up forty-two years old, wearing a harness that rode up in places a harness has no business riding, staring up at a…
Gay Male stories. Gay Male stories, from quick reads to long series. Reads run 16 to 21 minutes. Writers to know: The Hazel Tale, Timber Archive and Current of North. Readers usually start with “Comet Light Over Us” and “The Listing Party”. Ranked by how many readers finish them. Some are free to read in full; the rest open with a free preview.
Get new gay male stories the day they are published.
So here's how I ended up forty-two years old, wearing a harness that rode up in places a harness has no business riding, staring up at a…
The permit desk at Red Rock Ridge County Park is not usually busy on a Friday.
My name is Noah, I'm twenty-eight, and until last month I thought I was straight.
Roland Dawkins was forty-four years old and he could tell you exactly what any given Tuesday was going to look like.
I was wiping sweat off my forehead with the back of my wrist for maybe the hundredth time that afternoon.
My name is Claude, I am sixty-two years old, and I have been doing this midnight round for longer than most of the crew has been alive.
The spider plant was dead.
Brody drove the whole way while I watched the corn go by.
I'd known Elliot for about four months, and only in the way you know somebody through friends of friends, meaning we'd nodded at each…
The heatwave hit our city like it had a grudge, and my apartment on the fourth floor turned into a bread oven by seven every night.
I'd never done anything like this before, so when I pulled my rental truck down that long gravel drive into the heart of the Texas Hill…
I got to the Wash and Rinse at five fifteen on a Friday night with a notebook in my pocket and a heart that still felt like it had been…
*This one's for anyone who's ever felt like they had to compete with a partner's past.
The flight from Chicago had eaten eleven hours of my life and most of my spine, and by the time the taxi dropped me in front of the hotel…
Henri is forty-four years old, and he has been watching Bret bench press for close to twenty years now.
He was typing on his phone when I walked up.
Rod woke at 5:47 because the birds outside his window had no respect for anyone, least of all a forty-two-year-old man who had drunk two…
Rudy Gerrard had nobody to blame but himself.
I'd been a paramedic for sixteen years, and I figured by now nothing could make my pulse jump.
My name is Hector.
The Hazel Tale, Timber Archive, Current of North, Delta Route