Hysterical Gay Man

By Rolly Ongco Pasilan

Ohana and Nate's love story is a roller coaster ride of laughter, lust, and danger. Ohana, a hilarious and charismatic gay man, meets Nate and falls head over heels in love. The two embark on a passionate and adventurous romance, filled with wild nights out, steamy bedroom encounters, and plenty of laughter.
But as their relationship deepens, secrets are revealed, and the couple finds themselves facing betrayal and peril at every turn. Will Ohana follow the trail of codes and messages that the psycho leaves to catch Nate's infidelity?
Will their love be strong enough to survive the challenges they face?
Follow Ohana and Nate on their journey as they navigate the ups and downs of love, learning to trust each other even when the stakes are high. Full of heart, humor, and unforgettable moments, this love story will leave you rooting for Ohana and Nate until the very end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rolly Ongco Pasilan
• Release date: Mar 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223254713

Rolly Ongco Pasilan

I taught in public and private schools in the Philippines for thirteen and three years respectively. I’m an author for erotic romance, erotic fantasy, YA, and children’s books. I have a Bachelor's Degree in Education, a Master’s Degree in Teaching Reading and 27 units in a PhD in English language. Aside from writing fantasy novels, I also serve as a ghostwriter and editor for Master’s theses or dissertation. I am a lecturer-adviser in campus journalism and been awarded as the National Champion Coach in Feature writing during the 2014 National Schools Press Conference in Subic, Zambales, Philippines.

Book preview

1

Chapter 1

Stop pestering me. Leave and buy a black forest cake and slice it with your cock.

I scream at the top of my voice as I open the door of my pig-pen-like apartment for the third time. However, my feisty expression turns into a virginal nun who has never tasted a condensed-milk-like guy’s cum in her entire life, when a two-legged creature—hot as hell, sexy as Archangel Michael, and lustful as Lucifer, or whatever—stands in the door, wearing his usual flirtatious smile.

Why are you shouting at the most delicious dude you’ve ever tasted? the guy asks me as he presses his upper arm on the wall while his hand caresses my chin. I love to lick his solid, fair-skinned fingers. Are you having menstruation today? The accomplished flirt lets out a chuckle, his dimples flashing as if inviting my tongue to play hockey on it.

I wish. I wish every gay man in the world had a monthly fucking period. I roll my eyes, but oh boy, he winks at me. I don’t know why I like a man winking at me. I feel like a teenage girl. And right now, I can feel my inner flibbertigibbet starts to wet, but I control it, by simply pinching her clitoris. I can hear her caterwauls, belting out Lady Gaga’s hit Telephone. Someone is trying to play games with me. I’ve been opening the door twice because I’ve been hearing loud knocks. Every time I open it, a poster of a guy wearing only skimpy trunks at the beach greets me, I explain matter-of-factually, pointing at the image behind him on the wall, and the Casanova bites his lower lip, gesturing a ‘suck-me-off-sign’ that makes me roll my eyes for the second time.

I shake my head, trying to ignore his flirtatiousness.

Aren’t you coming in? I ask, opening the door wide, to make way for a towering man who fucks like Ferrari, very, very fast. I smack my forehead with my palm for being flirty. I believe he contaminates me with his coquette. Aside from halitosis, this bitchiness of mine has no cure.

He enters without a word, nears my small ref, and opens a can of pineapple drinks. I grin for I know what a can of pineapple juice can do for his semen.

For my cum, later, he says, winking at me for the second time.

I gape at him.

I know it.

Flirty fucking seducer.

I draw close to the ref and drink an apple-flavored-bottled of mineral water. He stares at me; his honey-browned Korean eyes crash-land on my midnight blacks. For my breath. And the amorist laughs boisterously. What a bully.

Haven’t you visited the dentist lately? he asks with concern in his voice.

I do, I reply as I near the window, staring at the vastness of the skies. The doctor tells me that as long as I brush my teeth after every meal with probiotic toothpaste and gargle with chlorine dioxide, I’m good.

Sounds cool.

But how long shall I do this? For the rest of my life? I raise an octave of my voice. Of all the people, why me? I have a brighter career ahead of me. But it’s embarrassing. This dragon fucking breath flattens my confidence. My Don Juan becomes silent for a nanosecond. In my peripheral vision, I can see him, shrugging.

Well, you have plenty of savings. As long as you have money, your breath smells like honey. He stands, drawing me closer; his long sinewy arms wrap around my slender body. I miss you. His comforting words and his sexy velvety voice pacify my inner demons. But my twin sister demon, Lilith, argues. He misses your money.

You miss my money. I don’t know why those words escape from my lips. Bastard lips. I swear I do not intentionally emphasize the last word of my sentence.

For God’s sake, it’s not what I’m up to, he retorts, letting those trimmed hairs on his upper lip kiss my shoulders. He isn’t offended by my words. This is the reason why I love him the most. He’s not sensitive to my sarcasm or frankness. There are rich gays, richer than you. They’re offering me a large sum of money, more than you can give me. But, I refuse, he pauses, and I take that as a cue to chime in.

Refuse? For what reason?

I can feel he’s swallowing his saliva, and his velvety voice turns husky (Is he a Transformer?), which I find sexy. I don’t know why I find a guy with a raspy voice sexy. Taylor Lautner wannabe? It turns me on like I’m having a hard-on every time I see a cowboy on Pornhub, wearing only white briefs with his signature hat.

I remember the first time I met him. He was referred to me by my pimp friend who sat next to me when we dined at McDonald’s. This friend who has nothing to boast about other than his dwarfism and his impeccable charm of borrowing and not returning money introduced me to this panties-dropping guy.

This delectable dude was sitting across my table, sipping a glass of Pepsi. I couldn’t help myself but gawk at the most handsome seed of Adam that I’d ever seen in my whole life. Every time his lips touched the glass’s mouth, I imagined they were kissing my anus. I mean my lips.

Occasionally, I took glances at him, and in an instance or two, he caught me rubbernecking at him with his smoldering, squinty eyes.

He beamed, and I giggled. Then, he looked at me and leaned forward. I shut my eyes, and my body began to blaze, anticipating the sweetest kiss of a lifetime. However, to my dismay, I could feel his perfumed finger, rubbing the corner of my lips.

I sucked in a breath. I really thought he’d smack me.

He whistled softly and sucked the red paste on his finger while ogling at me.

Oh, holy sexy man.

That was my cue that he was up for sucking. I knew it. I wasn’t born yesterday.

Only a real Hokage knows an authentic Hokage move.

We laughed at each other.

My friend gave me a fake cough, and I pinched him by his side, and he almost spat the drinks from his mouth.

How dare he disturb my glorious moment with my newfound flavor of the month.

On the gallery of my phone, this mouth-watering flirt looked like a snobbish guy, with an air of arrogance fitted to an English prince, who won’t dare an ordinary gay man with dragon breath let alone