Is Capricious the Word?

By Habu

In this male-perspective bisexual romp, budding novelist and New York English doctoral student, Aiden Macallum, is in a very-much-open marriage of convenience with older Columbia University English professor Sandra Gainsworth. They both fall for and are satisfied by visiting New Zealand author Bram Overby, who invites Sandra to take a sabbatical at his beachfront house in a New Zealand hedonist artists’ colony. Sandra accepts, Aiden tags along, and both become sexually embroiled not only with Overby but also in a community where everyone is doing everyone else and everyone wants to do Aiden.

A story of graphic, heterosexual, bisexual, and gay promiscuity, unprotected sex, group sex, interracial sex, and recreational drug use all in the name of creating modern literature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BarbarianSpy
• Release date: Apr 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781925568530

Habu

Habu is one of the pen names of a former supersonic spy jet pilot, intelligence agent, male model, movie actor, and diplomat. A wild youth in South East Asia was spent enjoying whatever sexual opportunities came his way, and much of his gay male writing is about recalling incidents from those days and inventing ones he’d perhaps have liked to experience. He now leads a very quiet and ordinary life.Check out our blog and get free stories. Feedback and reviews are always appreciated.

Book preview

Is Capricious the Word?

by

habu

http://www.barbarianspy.com/

WARNING: This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. Contains graphic gay male sex, graphic MF sex, anal sex, interracial sex, bisexuals, Multiple partners, MMM, and gay love, all of which may be considered offensive by some readers.

All sexually active characters in this work are at least 18 years of age.

This book is copyright © habu 2019

habu asserts his right to be known as the author of this work.

Published by BarbarianSpy in 2019

Cover design © S Bush 2019

Cover images: manipulated: background images https://depositphotos.com/portfolio-1518767.html , man Photo by Aaron_Amat| ID: 243537942

ISBN: E-Book: 978-1-925568-53-0

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review or article, without written permission from the author or publisher.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this e-book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this e-book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters in this book are the product of the author’s imagination and no resemblance to real people, or implication of events occurring in actual places, is intended.

CONTENTS

Is Capricious the Word?

About the Author

Other BarbarianSpy Books

Is Capricious the Word?

Sandra had been doing a crossword puzzle as we waited for the visiting author from New Zealand to arrive at our Chelsea apartment.

You’re the prose man. What’s a word for ‘inconstant’? she asked, stretching her long legs, in the turquoise pedal pushers, down the length of the white sofa. The tunic she wore over them, showing her cleavage almost all the way down to her navel, was the same white as the sofa. I assumed she’d stay on the sofa as much as possible while the New Zealand author was here—it highlighted her very nice set of tits. I also assumed that the author, invited by her English Department at Columbia, where she taught poetry, had impressed her with more than his best-seller status. Otherwise she’d have worn an Indian caftan. Before she’d wafted off to his lecture, she’d asked me if New Zealand was somewhere near India. Since the visiting New Delhi University professor, Vijay Modi, fucked her on his desk during an office party, she’d been in her Indian period.

Fickle? Vacillating? Spasmodic? Fluid? I tossed out from the other side of the kitchen bar while I was tossing the salad. I did most of the cooking. Her friends tittered behind their fans that she had acquired me, as a boy toy, when I had taken one of her classes as a graduate student, but I knew that what she’d needed was a maid. No, more than that. What was a nine-letter word for a convenient husband? Camouflage. That was it. She liked men and women, a variety of them. I liked men, but for a room over my head and food on the table, I occasionally fucked Sandra. She didn’t mind, which I took as a vote of confidence in my skills with women as well as men, because she’d been fucked by a whole lot of both. It had been a convenient—camouflage—marriage for both of us. Does it give any clue? I called out.

It’s ten letters, she answered.

Oh, of course, I responded. Capricious.

Yes, that fits, she said.

It certainly would, I thought. And then the bell from the street rang, there was heavy trudging on the stairs, and the New Zealand best-selling author, Bram Overby, was in