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BISEXUAL
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Alex
Lockheed
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Petit Mort - poem
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Home
to Fire Island review by Emma
STORY
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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