Pansexuals are people for whom sex is sex is sex, regardless of the gender of the “other(s),” and pansexuals have been described as those who don’t care whose pants they’ll put their hand down. This wide-open state of sexual arousal isn’t as well served in stories as other persuasions are. In this anthology Habu provides us with seven “every which way” stories that explore this wide-ranging genre.
“B-6 Cowboy Special” takes a bisexual-service rent-boy to a wedding party striptease job never to be forgotten. On a more serious note, “Fissure in the Rock” shows how bisexuality can pulverize a marriage—that it’s not always a happy romp in the bed. In “Purloined Tryst,” a planned Halloween swinger party tryst goes pleasantly awry, while “Retreat Treat” uses art to reveal an “every which way” experience. “Shimmering Guilt” reflects the culmination of years and years of fear of a pansexual nature being exposed. “The Yellow Cadillac” and the “White Bandana Club” are both freewheeling romps in a rocker world and an inventive service club, respectively.
As Habu reveals, such a gender “who cares?” approach to one’s sexuality can be liberating or guilt-ridden or just plain good, arousing fun—or any combinations of these. Whatever the mood, pansexuality can serve up interesting stories with inventive twists for the reader looking for something freewheeling and open-minded. We hope you will enjoy these and look for Habu’s next anthology in this genre.
From “The Yellow Cadillac”:
I think I had been slipped a Mickey of some sort, because it wasn’t long before I got groggy and my connection with all that was going on around me kept going in and out. I started to disappear, while the brunette appeared wrapped up in whatever conversation I could muster to avoid telling her I was here because her colleague had had me for a snack a few days earlier. She must have fancied me herself, because after my first blackout, I found her on my sofa, sticking her tongue in my ear and playing with my chest and belly. My shirt had disappeared somewhere. I didn’t stay aware long, and the next time I put in an appearance, the brunette was still there, toying with me, but my rocker friend was now on the other side of me.
My pants were down around my ankles, and the rocker and brunette were kissing each other across my body and each of them had a hand on my hardened cock. Surprisingly enough, the room still seemed to be full of boisterous people. Next I was aware; the brunette was sitting astride my lap with my cock up her ****. Her skirt still flowed around us, but her big tits were flapping against my chest and her long hair was whipping my face. The music, which had a good beat, was louder than the crowd now, and, good musician that she was, she was keeping great time with the beat in her bucking in my lap. As far as I remembered, the rocker was puffing a weed and playing with both the brunette’s tits and my nipples as they bounced against each other.