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LGBT+ Stories

Sidelined Heart

Sidelined Heart

5.0
LGBT+ Crimson Sin

My name is Christian Thompson, and once upon a time I was the best striker in European football. That was until he came along-Ashford Ryder, young and carefree, 10 years my junior and the new shining star. I hate him. At least that's what I tell myself. Not just because he's taken my spot, but because he's everything I've struggled all my life to be, and not to be. He's vibrant, he's happy, and the worst of all, he's openly gay. The young striker doesn't care what anyone thinks about his sexuality, because he embraces it. I'm not homophobic, quite the opposite-I've lived in the closet all my life. All my life, I've had to hide who I am to please the people around me. European football hasn't always been this accepting of gay men, and I'd squeezed myself into a box to fit in with what they wanted of me. It isn't that hard when you think about my family who'd rather disown me than have an openly gay son. So imagine how I feel when the world decides to be more accommodating to people like Ashford Ryder, when they shoved me in a box. It's not so easy to hate the happy-go-lucky striker, when he does everything to get close to me, despite my insistent hatred for him. He's like a thorn in my side-a hot, sexy, blonde, 5ft9 thorn I can't stop thinking about. But when one day I lose my cool around the popular striker, and land myself in bad press, I end up needing his help. It's supposed to be easy. Spend some time with Ashford Ryder, and show our fans that we can work together-it's what I need to do to save my career. How hard can it be to pretend to get along with him? As long as I remember how much I actually can't stand him. But no one tells you how hard it is to hate someone you spend every waking hour dreaming about.

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Breaking The Rules MxM

Breaking The Rules MxM

5.0
LGBT+ Demi-Dean

My body sang a tune only Ryan knew... When Twenty-two year old Sammy Cartwright's NYU football dreams were dashed due to an accidental testicles smash in a heated match, he scheppled back to Todos Santos and after a year feeling depressed, took up his father's teaching job temporarily in Royal Elite High. Too bad he hasn't any formal experience with teaching and the hypocritical principal is threatening to fire him if there isn't an improvement within the end of the month. Dumped by his girlfriend of six-years and navigating his bisexuality, Sammy isn't prepared for the temptation that comes in the form of Ryan Churchill, the principal's bastard son who's got a pretty face and a dirty tongue to match it. But Sammy knew better than to cross his boundaries. When Principal Churchill gives him a chance to prove he's worth his salary and tutor Ryan for a week, Sammy knew he was doomed. Judging by how eager Ryan was to get into his pants and how unashamedly willing his body was to give in to the youngster's demands, Sammy knew seven days were more than enough to break the rules. But the consequences could wreck him for all he's worth. - - - - - My name is Sammy Cartwright and I have a confession to make. I slept with my student who I was supposed to tutor to prove I'm worth his mother's goddamn money. I let him jerk me off. Finger and fuck me to oblivion. I let him drive me insane with his tongue in my arse. I had multiple orgasms, in multiple positions. I fucked his smart little mouth. I slept with my student and I'd be damned not doing it again. Some may call it unprofessionalism, like his rich arse mother did. But I call it destiny, a fantasy meant to happen. My name is Sammy Cartwright and I slept with my student because it made me feel good. Here's why it's all worth it.

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Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal

Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal

5.0
LGBT+ Johan Gorski

The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary. My husband, David, was in an accident. At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife. When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?" He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry. It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure. I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper." Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her. "She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed. He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle." My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed. "Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe. Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone. My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break." My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away. A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do. When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?"

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Mummery

Mummery

5.0
LGBT+ Gilbert Cannan

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1919 Excerpt: ...loss of humanity. Henceforth she must deal with realities, leaving him to his painted mummery.... She could understand his frenzy, his fury, his despair. \"That will do, Charles,\" she said very quietly. \"I will see what can be done about Mr. Clott, and whatever happens I will see that you are not harmed.... If you like, you can dine with Verschoyle and me tonight. You can come home with me now, while I dress. I am to meet him at the Carlton and then we are going on to the Opera.\" \"Does Verschoyle know?\" \"He knows that you are you and that I am I---that is all he cares about.... He is a good man. If people must have too much money, he is the right man to have it. He would never let a man down for want of money--if the man was worth it.\" \"Ah!\" said Charles, reassured. This was like the old Clara speaking, but with more assurance, a more certain knowledge and less bewildering intuition and guess-work. A Few weeks later, with Verschoyle and a poor relation of his, a Miss Vibart Withers, for chaperone, Clara left London in a 60 h.p. Fiat, which voraciously ate up the Bath Road at the rate of a mile every minute and a half.... It was good to be out of the thick heat of London, invaded by foreigners and provincials and turned into a city of pleasure and summer-frocks, so that its normal life was submerged, its character hidden. The town became as lazy and drowsy a spectacle as a field of poppies over which danced gay and brilliant butterflies. Very sweet was it then to turn away from it, and all that was happening in it, to the sweet air and to fly along between green fields and orchards, through little towns, at intervals to cross the Thames and to feel that with each crossing London lay so much farther away. Henle...

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