Eleventh in the series of eclectic gay male short story collections by habu, the fifteen stories of Grab Bag 11 offer a variety of gay male action in terms of theme, sexual interest and fetish, setting, and time period. Laid out in the order in which they were written rather than grouped by theme, these are stories composed during the spring and early summer of 2016. Although mostly contemporary pieces this time, these stories take us from the early history of the United States (“Martin’s Hundred”) through vampire hunting grounds in the early twentieth century (“A Question of Restraint” published separately for Halloween 2016) to a mafia fishing expedition (“Business Cruise”) right up to the most recent summer Olympics (“Iran in USA”). In geographical coverage, although most are set in the United States, others take us to Spain (“Man Across the River”), Germany (“A Question of Restraint” and “The Horse Master”), and Brazil (“Iran in USA”). Some are romantic; more include habu’s penchant for writing hot, steamy, rough sex. Most explore the nature of the complex relationships between men who desire other men. All are written to entertain, inform, and arouse the reader of gay male stories.
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From “Man Across the River”
The man had the physique of a young god, I told myself, with a sigh, as I lowered the binoculars. I’d spent as much time as I could over the past several days out here on the terrace. Little work was being done on music composition. I’d polished what I’d drafted out the night before Phil left to death, but little new had risen. There was the folk song—well, two, after lying under Carlos, but not the production I’d hoped for.
I’d gone three days without sex after Phil left, which was no big deal, except that I’d been hard and wanted sex at least twice a day. Those were times when I’d caught glimpses of the Spanish footballer Xavier Vicario working in his vineyard across the river. He was out there almost constantly, and he liked to work stripped down to the waist. And at the end of his work day—a time I always tried to be out on the terrace and looking across the river—he’d use an open, outdoor shower by a door into his villa to sluice off his body.
After the first few days I saw this, I saw that he was stripping down entirely to do it. That’s when I dug out the binoculars. The man was hung—a thick, uncut sausage of a cock hanging down between his legs, seemingly meatier at the middle than at either end—and his body was absolutely magnificent. I found myself unzipping and working myself while he was showering.