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BISEXUAL Collection



Gay Erotica JUST OUT

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Alex Lockheed

La Petit Mort - poem


Home to Fire Island review by Emma


Remembering Miles


The Clint Folsom erotic gay murder mystery series.

Habu reports that he enjoyed writing this series. His premise was a no-holds-barred treatment of an unabashedly promiscuous, laid-back, “good-guy” homicide cop with movie-star looks .


(Clint's) love of being ‘topped’ is so ingrained within his being that each sex act is with an abandon and longing that makes men ‘feel like kings’. If you weren’t a ‘sub’ before, you would wish to be one by the end of the book. Once I finished reading it, I rushed to buy the rest of the Clint Folsom series. Hot Stuff!  

From a review by Kpasa





Friday In Belgium   

The vampire Emile La Cour  appears in habu's book  Second Coming - Emile Lacour Unleashed

illustration by Ynal

  It was well past midnight on a Friday evening at the Boléro on the Wollestraat in Bruges' Garenmarkt district. This was the third night in a row I'd occupied this small table in the shadows of the basement strip club bar, nursing my drinks, keeping my black cloak firmly wrapped about me, and searching for just the right one. I had assessed all of the club's young strippers closely, but I always came back to the same one. I had picked him out on the first night—a lithe but well-muscled, dark Greek boy, displaying a mixture of danger and sassiness; much more into what he was doing than any of the other performers. His act was black leather. Studded-leather harness crisscrossing his chest, studded-leather wrist guards and cock ring, shiny black leather boots, and a leather captain's cap pulled down close over his eyes, hiding his expression until he wanted to reveal it—a beautiful cock and heavy balls. He was young and virile, vital and full of life. Just what I needed.

By the second night, he had noticed me, boring my eyes into him, and by the third night he was mesmerized. He only had eyes for me; he wiggled his butt and penis only for me. I sat there, wrapped in my black cape, and he performed only for me. I had no doubts that tonight, on the third night, he would be mine—willingly.

And it must be tonight. Friday Belgium, Sunday Zurich's Aaah-Club in Marktgasse, and by the next Saturday the dream boys in that little club tucked away in the corner of Bangkok's Patpong district. Insatiable needs and desires. I had to keep ahead of the chase; I couldn't fall into a pattern. Uncounted years of running and hiding and fucking and feeding.

His last set was over. He disappeared beyond the beaded curtain behind the stage with a swish of his nicely rounded bare bottom and reappeared shortly thereafter, dressed in a white billowy cotton shirt over tight faded jeans. He walked directly to my table and stood there, gazing at me with hooded eyes through the fog of hours of cigarette smoke. I captured his eyes with mine and concentrated, willing him to give into me. After a mere moment, he gave me a little smile and glided toward the door. I threw more than enough euro dollars on the table for the waiters to forget I'd ever been there and followed the young man out into the night at a distance.

I followed him north on Schaarnstraat, across the canal at Predikherenrei and east down Ganzestraat to the city's old cemetery. I kept to the darker shadows of an already-dark night, my enclosing cloak helping to make me invisible to anyone out on the street—anyone except the young Greek, who turned his gaze toward me from time to time to ensure that I was still there.

The young man walked through the cemetery gates and down a long row of raised tombs to a small hillock that was topped by a raised, table-sized marble tomb, more prominent and ornately decorated than the graves around it. When he reached the tomb, he turned and stripped off his shirt and jeans to reveal the leather harness, wrist bands, and boots of his club act. He turned to face me as I slowly ascended the hill, his eyes locked onto mine, a slight smile on his lips, and his well-muscled arms thrown out in invitation to me, his cock coming to attention.

As I moved up to the hill toward him, I let my cloak billow out around me to reveal my bare, mammoth chest tapering down to a thin waist, and my long, thick cock and heavy balls dangling between my legs from the crotch opening in my black leather pants. His eyes opened wide in surprise and lust as I quickened my stride and fairly collided with him, sending him reeling back onto the tomb surface. We locked into a deep, completely open kiss, where lips bruised lips, tongues dueled with tongues, and saliva was freely shared. My saliva was intoxicating for the young Greek. His senses heightened, while his strength and responses were dulled, and I could feel him becoming drowsy within our embrace.

I held him firmly to me with my arms wrapped around him, my strong hands pressing into the small of his back, holding our pelvises and throbbing cocks plastered against each other. His hands went around me and found my buttocks bare under my cloak in my specially tailored leather pants. He kneaded my butt cheeks as my lips disengaged from his and traveled straight down to the side of his neck, searching for and finding that throbbing carotid artery. The young man was in superb physical condition as the strong throbbing there attested, and my lips lingered there a moment, savoring the strength of the life he held, before plunging my teeth into the throbbing artery and beginning to feast. The young man jerked and lurched at the bite, and his hands dislodged from behind me and just hung at his side. But he showed no signs of resisting me.

I disengaged from my feeding and looked into the young man's face. He just smiled beatifically back at me. He was beautiful, his black curls tumbling around his face in the moonlight. I went back to my quiet feeding, and the young man's back arched back and his head lolled back as well. He was moaning gently in rhythm with my sucking.

With each ounce of blood I was drinking, I was becoming younger and stronger again. And that huge cock of mine was growing larger and thicker as well. I held his slim pelvis against mine with my left arm wrapped around his waist. The long, sharp nails of the slender fingers of my right hand were slowly shredding the young man's flat belly and heaving chest with its pattern of curly black hair weaving below his nipples and traveling down his sternum to his loins. My languid movements were opening wounds, freeing tiny rivulets of blood. The young man just lay back on my arm, against the tomb, no longer feeling pain, apparently pleased at being opened like this, feeling his blood come to the surface and flow out of his body.

I dug trenches around the young man's nipples with my nails, and when the carotid artery went dry and collapsed, I moved my mouth down to the nipples, ran my tongue around his curly chest hair, and then dug my teeth in around the rim of each aureole in turn, sucking the nipples dry. The young man quietly sighed and moaned, clearly enjoying the suckling. I rejoiced that I was giving enjoyment to the young man, happy that I was giving pleasure as well as taking. He was a special young man. I had to make a decision about him—and soon.

I gently laid the young man's back down on the surface of the marble tomb and lapped and sucked my way down his bloody chest and belly, all the while stroking the young man's cock, preparing it. When my lips reached the Greek beauty's cock, I took it in, preparing for its first milking. The young man moaned and weakly moved his hips, letting me know I was welcome, that I was pleasing the young man, and sending little shivers of excitement through my own rejuvenating body. I rarely was given this response. When the young man came, it was in a flood of semen, enough, I was sure, that only one milking was required. This was just as well, as I was becoming anxious to possess him fully.

I rose above him then and stretched along the young man's body on the surface of the tomb, placing my lips on his lips and locking my violet eyes on his glazed-over hazel eyes. The young man was weakly trying to return the pressure of the kiss. My chest still pinning his to the cold marble of the tomb, I spread his legs with one hand and pushed them up and out. With the last of his strength, the young stripper held his legs up with his own hands, knowing what was now going to happen, having seen the size of me and still welcoming me inside him. I guided the head of my now bludgeon-thick eleven-inch cock to the young man's asshole with my right hand. The hole was wide and slack; the young man had had many lovers before me. But he had had no lover like me.

I glided my cock in at least seven inches in the first entry. The young man's lips came off mine, and he threw his head back, and whispered "Yes, yes," in a small, faraway voice.

Nine inches, and my mouth went to the carotid artery on the other side of the young man's neck. I sank my teeth into the weakly pumping artery and sucked. Ten inches, but my cock was growing and thickening now, and there was nearly as much waiting for entry as had already journeyed up the wide canal.

The young man murmured his pleasure and moaned and sighed quietly, I reached the twelve-inch point of burial. The young man was managing me to this point without signs of permanent damage. He also could recover physically from the blood that had been let to this point, although, if the second carotid collapsed, it was uncertain what would be happening in the brain, which would then be starved for nourishment.

The young man urged me on. He wanted to be fucked deeper. He begged for it in a weak little voice. I churned my cock in and out of him slowly at this depth. He sighed and asked for more. I pumped him more vigorously now, pulling all the way out of him and slamming my cock back in, careful still to stay at a depth of twelve inches. He screamed and cried for more, for me to go deeper, deeper than anyone had ever fucked him before.

I hovered there, for the first time uncertain, loving this young man who had given himself so freely, openly, and joyously. Teetering on the brink of life and death. I had fed enough to get me to Zurich. I could decide to let this one live.

Thirteen inches, and he was panting hard. Fourteen inches, and I could feel him weakening, on the brink. But he was still crying for my cock to split him and to mine him at a depth he'd never felt before. Fifteen inches, and a slow, but steady pumping action, and his body was all atremble, spasming beneath me, his ass walls undulating along my pulsating cock in a mixture of terror and lust. Groans and moans, but still he whispered his love for this fuck, his complete acceptance of this gigantic cock churning at the center of him.

This was the point where I should end it, keep everything for myself. But I couldn't do it. He had accepted me without reservation, and he was just too beautiful, too full of life. I could feel my cock being bathed in his blood; I had stretched him beyond limit. But I could give him life back. My seed could save him without diminishing me too much.

With a thrust to sixteen inches and the heaving of my loins, I consummate the union—my tremendous cock bathed in his blood and vital fluids and my healing seed giving him back his life.

We both screamed in ecstasy and both shoot off our fountains of semen in unison. I moved to leave him immediately then, but he wrapped his legs weakly around my thighs below my buttocks, signaling that he wanted me to remain inside him, as my cock slowly softened to its still-prodigious length and thickness of repose. He was cooing softly, telling me that this had been the best fuck and love-making of his life, not knowing how close he had come to leaving this life behind altogether, oblivious to the dangerously large amount of blood he had lost.

My mouth sought the young man's mouth one last time. Our eyes met and in the young man's eyes were love, lust, and trust. I could clearly see the features of his face now; it was getting close to dawn—too dangerously close to dawn. The young man's head rocked back and he went into a faint.

I left him then, swiftly withdrawing from his sweet ass, swirling my cape about me, and swiftly moving back into the night, keeping close to the night shadows at the base of the willow trees. I was already thinking of Zurich. It was a long way from Zurich to Bangkok, so I could not be as swayed by beauty and charity in Zurich as I was here. But I also was calculating in my mind how long my young Greek friend would need to fully recover. I had not planned to come this way again for decades, but decades from now, the young man would no longer be young and desirable. Sooner, maybe sooner for the next Friday in Belgium.


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