Vintage Pulp and Original Gay Erotica
Foreword
Rhino the sperm vampire.
That was how he thought of himself. Because that’s what he was. And he needed it. He needed it to live. And live and live. He needed that and nothing else.
He could see them in the gym, watching him as he worked out, not bothering to conceal their looks of wonder and admiration, whispering to each other, asking if anyone knew him, or anything about him.
And he knew the answer. No and no.
He kept himself totally hairless, a bald Hercules, ageless, his body a rugged statue of huge, muscular perfection, an ideal to be dreamed of but never achieved, a mysterious, unapproachable presence, armored against all familiarity.
Unless, of course, you happened to be Doug. Then you didn’t care about anything but getting built. Then you had to get next to whoever was the best—get next to them and milk them for their knowledge, their technique, their guidance, even at the risk of getting shot down, of making a fool of yourself.
Watch what happens when power and ambition find each other.
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