It's sunny in the suite. We take a bath in the hot tub, I brought some seaweed bath salts that I saved from my last thalassotherapy. Champagne and weed for when we wake. I gently rub the head of my dick against his hole. I fuck him later, after the pool or the countryside walk, I don't remember anymore. I squeeze my thighs, standing at the edge of the bed. I'm a little soft because his ass is super tight, I hate that, but whatever, it's a start. I'm very careful not to hurt him. He comes without touching himself. He tells me it's the third time in his life. I wonder how many times has that happened to me, it's true that it isn't a common thing.
We come home Sunday night. Stéphane brings me back to my place before he goes home to his and Jean-Marc's. It's eight o’clock, a bit early for the Palace. I lie on the bed. I smoke a joint, listening to music. I think about what Quentin asked me on the phone two days ago. Do you still want me? I said Yes. And then I told him I can't live with him. But tonight, I tell myself that I'm really going to be able to stop loving him because there really is someone else. I cry from happiness, I think that I will truly be able to love him, that what I'm listening to is true, I wanna make you mine, I'll love you till the end of time, and it's such a relief. I tell myself that it's been a while since I've cried. I feel like calling Stéphane right now and telling him he must choose between Jean-Marc and me. He has to decide right now and if he's not here in an hour I'll never see him again. And then I tell myself that wouldn't be so smart. I know very well he's going to leave him anyway. It's only a matter of time. But it gives me a weird feeling all the same. I've only been single for two months. Not even really. And then all of a sudden I get super paranoid, it's probably the hash, when I hear the tick-tock of the clock at the end of the song by D:ream, it doesn't give me the same feeling as it did the first time I noticed it when Stéphane and I were chilling after fucking. This time I tell myself it's the countdown to my end. I'm scared. I cry. And then I calm myself down and I manage to make it to the bathroom clinging to the walls I'm completely gone and I'm still listening to D:Ream while I take a shower to try to come down from my high.
4 My Lovers
It's been forever since I've danced. Stéphane doesn't like it much since he doesn't know how to, but since it makes him happy to make me happy, he's cool with it. We can't go to the Queen2 because I don't want to run into Terrier, but tonight there's this thing at the Bataclan, so after a few beers at a bar we head out. At the Bataclan, the music is rather average and since the place isn't packed, the atmosphere is pretty cold, the people are a bit pretentious because it's a special evening and at any rate there are too many straight people. In short, after about an hour, when the gin-get starts to wear off, the Queen became inevitable.
I am no more than four inches from Stéphane's face when Terrier sees me. I'm asking him if he found a third while I was on the toilet. He smiles and tells me that he hasn't had time yet. Terrier looks pale. He passes by me without saying a word. I catch up to him in the bathroom. I tell him Hey, I thought I recognized you. He's completely trashed. He says But who are you? You know perfectly well who I am, I told him. Yeah, so what are you doing here? Can't you leave me the fuck alone? he says. I say I have every right to be here, shit. I'm not going to hide out at home just because you go out. And then he starts crying. You didn't even recognize me… I wasn't even thinking about you… and then I saw you, and your hairy body…
I don't know what to do so I split. I grab Stéphane along the way and drag him across the crowd. There's some space past the bar. I dance. It's Tony D. Bart. Quentin had Nico bring it back from London for me last December, three or four months ago, around the time I met Terrier. I'm dancing like a crazy man, I toss my head in all directions, I feel my cheeks throb, I'm having trouble keeping my balance, but then people back away around me giving me some space to dance. When I stop, there's this frustrated guy who shoves me in the back. The others, gorgeous and high, great muscles and wearing classy shirts all smile back at me. I am out of breath, I look at Stéphane, I start dancing but chiller now. I lift my head. Terrier is about ten feet away. Apparently he has been following us. I tell Stéphane Come on, we're heading upstairs. We head upstairs. We smoke a cigarette while watching the dance floor below. The music is good. I've got a good buzz going from the gin-get and the joint. I dance by the security barrier. I rub up against Stéphane's ass. It makes me hard. We kiss.
When I open my eyes, Terrier is still there at the end of the walkway. He doesn't even pretend not to be staring at us. I say Fuck this let's go. On the way up the stairs and out I see at least five cute guys I could do. But who gives a shit I tell myself. I've already fucked a thousand guys in my life. The one I'm going home with is in the top four, so it's all good.
And then outside, Terrier shows up completely drunk. He is shirtless, just wearing a white tank top, black jeans, his pale slightly too-thin shoulders shine in the night. He looks super hot to me. It's freezing-cold out. I'm coming home with you two, he says. No, you're fucking delirious I say. Yeah, Yeah, it's gonna be great, he replies. I love his hoarse voice. It's not going to be great because you're not coming, I say. Oh really, and how are you going to stop me? He says. Watch, I say. I grab him by the shoulder. I turn him around towards the entrance. Now, go back in there! He breaks free. He starts walking towards the Étoile. I follow him. He starts running. I run. He speeds up. I'm starting to get excited. I finally catch up to him on the next block. OK that's enough, leave us alone I say. He laughs at me. We head back down the Champs-Élysées, now empty. I pull him by the wrist. You're hurting me, he says. I don't care I say.
Now there's a line to get in to the club. I drag him through the crowd to the door. Shame on me, he keeps saying. The bouncer asks Sandrine, the girl at the door You know these guys? She knows him, I say, and he's going to catch a cold. I let him get dragged into the club. I think everything is going to be OK especially considering the comment he made before leaving, disappearing into the mist, the persuasive house music: Maybe just one last drink. I go back to find Stéphane, totally sober. I say That totally killed my buzz. He says I can see that. He's been waiting for me sitting on the hood of a car, super cute in his little green bomber jacket. I say Wanna go to the Transfert?3
We finally decide not to bring anybody home and fuck, just the two of us. We go home. Four a.m., MC Solaar on the radio, we enter the tunnel under Place de la Concorde, the Quai du Louvre, the Black taxi driver and his North African buddy are chatting. I tell Stéphane it's all good, it was just a lot for me, that's all. Terrier stopped dead in his tracks on the way to the bathroom. It was the first time he saw me with his replacement. No one planned it.
Five a.m. Stéphane is on top of me. I have both ankles on his shoulders. He's ready to enter me. I say I don't want you to fuck me. He says Oh yeah? I say I want you to make love to me. He says OK. The first fifteen minutes are perfection, my dick is out of its mind, hard without me touching it, I spread my legs to the max and take in all nine inches. After a while it gets so good that it reminds me of Quentin, the way he fucks me so deep. I am rock hard. We come at almost the exact same time. He tells me after we finish that he is beginning to understand what fucking is all about. I tell him that out of the thousands of men I've fucked, there are maybe four or five, OK a dozen really, who know how to do what he just did to me. There is also Chad Douglas, but it's only on VHS. In fact, he's listed in the credits of one of the ones I bought two days ago. Remote Control. I just hope he isn't dead in real life.
5 Sex
Robert cuts my nape while shaving me with a new blade. So I tell him Do me a favor, and put some of this on it, then wait about a half-hour, cool? He says Thirty? That's how long you have to wait for HIV-1 according to the label on the antiseptic, for other diseases it's shorter. I say Yeah. He says Shouldn't I just throw out the razor? I say Yeah. Robert likes me, he bought me coffee the last time I was around and today he asked if I wanted a Marlboro. Handsome, straight, cowboy look, big belt, faded 501 jeans, with a lock of hair o
n his forehead. I see him leaning over the banister looking at me from above while I am almost at the bottom.
After this incident, I was so uncomfortable that I went somewhere else for a month. When I came back, he was there. What's up? he asked me. Not much, I said. He did this thing that I didn't know, a slow wink.
We leave Robert's salon. Stéphane walks behind me as usual. We go across the street to buy me a new bomber jacket and a pair of chaps. For years I've been dreaming about owning some chaps. I'm feeling invincible. My hair is very short, I have on my black leather 501s, German leather boots, a blue trucker sweater, the collar of my shirt adds just a splash of color. I've been going to the gym for seven years, I have a small belly, just a little one, but it would go away in two weeks if I worked on my abs. The only thing is my calves, they're a little on the small side.
Saturday, around six, Stéphane came back from running an errand, he fucked me, it was nice, but I don't remember anything. We had dinner, Allessandro made us pasta with asparagus, then he left for Beaubourg, supposedly, but in reality he was going to see his girlfriend. We do another line of coke, and smoke a joint. Stéphane is constipated. It pisses me off, I think he is still scared of getting fucked. I say that, but it's true he has made progress, he told me that before, he used to only open up when he was high on poppers. I send him off to go shit and wash his ass. During this time, I take off my jeans, and put my boots back on, then my awesome leather chaps. When he comes back, the latex chaps are laid out on the bed, with the right size Rangers and matching socks. I help him get dressed, then I help him get into position: knees on the bed, ass in the air. I have trouble getting hard at first, seeing as there was really no foreplay. I look at his ass, I put some more lube on. That finally turns me on. I enter him, not super hard, he's really tight but I get him to open up a little using my riding crop. I grab the belt of his chaps with my left hand, and use my right hand to gently whip his ass, his thighs, and his lower back, I get harder inside of him, he pushes back against me, I turn around and see something world class in the mirror, I like what I see, it reassures me, it flatters me. I pound him for a while, and then I get sick of the position, we climb up the bed, then back down to the edge, then I pull out, I tell him to face me, I've gone a little limp, I enter him again, I get hard inside the condom. In the end, he comes.
It's already two a.m. I don't feel like going out. We are hungry. I open a can of tripe, I make some instant rice, two individual packets. There's some leftover Sancerre in the fridge. The tripe doesn't have much flavor because of the coke. I put on Soft Cell. I bought two old albums I didn't know except for their amazing hit song, Numbers. Who's the person that you woke up next to today? Marc Almond asks me. I roll a joint and then I light it and then I turn off the stereo with the stereo remote and then I turn on the TV with the TV remote because I haven't figured out how to get them both to work with the universal remote I bought last week, and I flip through the channels and I pass the joint to Stéphane.
I want to play Microbots, Cosmic Evolution, it's a really great cut from the DJ Brainwasher mix, but the CD refuses to work. I'm looking for something repetitive but not cold to listen to while I get fucked with a dildo. It's five a.m., Stéphane is getting tired, he falls asleep but tells me it's OK, I wake him up so he can fuck me with my dildo. I get out another mix, Guerilla in Dub, the sixth track will do the trick if the title means anything: Intoxication. It's actually pretty good. The bass is muffled and cool. From time to time there are actually some lyrics, a voice whispering Funky marijuana. I don't even notice the words until I switched to my third dildo, the big black one. We started with the dayglow ultra-soft pink one I bought at Pleasure Chest in West Hollywood two years ago when I went to the U.S. between two hospital stays. It's perfect for easing open an ass. Then another, thicker pink one, the Kong (9 ½ × 7 inches). We move on to the big black double-headed one bought in Berlin that is seven and a half inches around. I take it half-way. Off to the side is the enormous pink one, eight and a half inches thick. I usually never use this one because I can only take it fully when I am completely wasted. But tonight, with the quarter tab of acid, the coke I did, and all the joints I've been smoking, I'll be able to take it, and I know that an incredible feeling awaits me, every bit as mind-blowing as a parachute jump or a deep-sea dive. I like strong sensations.
Stéphane covers it with lube, the black one is still in me because I don't want to leave my ass empty too long, I have a hard time staying hard if there's nothing in me when my ass is already very dilated. Stéphane adds more lube to the big pink one, I want it dripping, if not, I feel it going in. Here we go. It pops in, first the head, as fat as a fist, pushes past my asshole, then the three ribbed bulges one after another glides in. The morons who designed this thing must have thought they were clever putting those on the back, I guess they thought that made it look prettier. Wait that hurts. It doesn't feel good, I say, take it out, take it out, take it out! Thirty-second break before trying again. OK now, it goes in but it's still pretty big, it hurts just a little, even after taking a huge hit of poppers. I wonder what I can do to get hard again, then I have an idea. I tell Stéphane, Put your hand around it so I can feel how big it is, that'll turn me on. Obviously it worked well feeling just how much this enormous thing was stretching my bitch ass. I'm raging hard. I'm really turned on. OK now, fuck me with it. He does. I realize just how deep he's got it in me, I've never had it so deep. After twenty seconds of hard fucking, I feel like I'm about to come. Pull it out quick, quick, quick! He pulls it out fast. I explode. I think about Quentin because he is the one who taught me to pull your dildo out before coming. That way you don't damage your sphincters. If you leave the dildo in, the muscles smash up against the latex and can't close back while you ejaculate. I check. As usual, no blood, which has been the case for about a year now. That I learned all by myself. With this type of play, you shouldn't force it if it hurts or you will bust a blood vessel and wind up with a bleeding asshole, that isn't fun at all.
The next day is Sunday, we wake up too late to go shopping so we end up doing nothing. I roll a joint after breakfast, we watch some TV and then I start to get bored and decide to go down on him. I blow him for a little, and then I get up and go wash my asshole in the bathroom, I don't really explain myself because he can hear the noises, it takes me a while, and when I come back, I'm not as turned on so I roll another joint, we smoke it while watching some TV and then I go back down on him and when he gets real hard I lie on my back and spread my legs and he gets on top and goes in deep with a perfect understanding of my insides, my dick is rock-hard without me touching it, for twenty minutes I think, I fondle him, I play with his nipples, I push my throbbing cock up against his belly, he does this trick that I absolutely love doing too where he rolls his belly against my balls while fucking me. So much stimulation of sensitive spots. He tells me he wants to come, I say OK, a fuck from behind and off we go. From the back the penetration is deeper and also it makes it easier for me to jerk off. I turn around, forty-five seconds of fumbling and then we're good, he settles in, I wrap myself around his waist, my heavy package throbbing, I jerk and he pounds me hard, I come before him, after I can't keep going, he has to stop. I am a little worried that he didn't come in my ass but he is happy anyway, he tells me it's wild how his cock feels in someone's ass. I say, I know but I'm totally wrecked, it's the first time I've managed to let him pound me so deep with his super hard tool. I'm too worn out to help him come right now. I tell him he'll come when I fuck him in a little while, OK?
And that's what happens an hour later. I've pulled myself together, we've been watching TV, I start fondling him, I'm getting hard, balls hanging low. Great erection, relentless, absolute. He doesn't know if his ass is dirty. He goes to the toilet and then the bathroom. It takes a long time. When he comes back, I've gone limp. I spend a minute in his mouth to take care of that first. I slip on a condom. I place him on his back, a pillow under his head. I slide two fingers in him like butter. I s
tart to go at it. Shit. He's so tight, impossible to get in. I try again. Nothing. I go limp. He looks freaked out. I say All right, we're going to take our time. I sit my ass down on the bed and rub the head of my dick against his ass for a little while, he relaxes, I slide in very carefully. It's OK. And then I fuck him like I never have before. It lasts a long time, the way I like it. I see in his eyes he's beginning to take me seriously. I take him from the front, holding him first by the ankles. Then I grab his ass. Then the middle of his thighs. Then behind his knees. Then around the neck. I pull out to put on some lube. I dive back in. In the end, he explodes. I pull out, I rip the condom off, I jerk off looking at his ass, I think about the straight porn video I have called Juicy Anus, the tagline on the cover is Any gaping asshole will be showered in beautiful strands of jizz. Too bad we can't do that for real. I'm coming. I get back up. Boom. It's the fifth time we've fucked this weekend.
It's eleven. We go to dinner, nearby in the ghetto, totally wasted. The waiters are nice. A girl comes in from the Privilège, it was the anniversary of Tea Dance this Sunday. We're the last to leave the restaurant. It's cold outside. We decide to sleep together, three nights in a row for the first time, it's good.
6 America
I jacked off while watching Eric Manchester do what he does best, things I know how to do. He's no Chad Douglas, but he loves his dick just as much. I go brush my teeth, my nightly routine consists of: AZT, teeth, warts. I'll jerk off again, I hope, after I finish this. I see myself in the mirror, I find myself handsome. A low-angle shot, then I choose other angles, I change my expression, I look concerned, I tell myself my conception of beauty has changed. Before, I only paid attention to the physique. The guy could have looked stupid or tormented but still handsome. Now, I tell myself that beauty is in the expression. This is why I'm having so much success these days. I have that same expression I had when I was fifteen, when I was away on vacation in Los Angeles at the L.s and people in restaurants would serve me alcohol because I was French even though it wasn't allowed for anyone under eighteen. Whatever I would do with the L.s was great, like drinking chilled California white wine out of a cranberry juice bottle, from a cooler at the beach, the waves of the Pacific crashing in front of us. The smell of eucalyptus is very strong as we head downhill to the beach. We're styling, in a white Jaguar that was in Le Mans in 1964. Julie L. takes me to dinner in Tijuana. We both order Sideways and a steak with garlic and onions. The beautiful Mexican ladies go to dinner in red or black evening gowns, the men in black suits. I have on a jacket Papa gave me that was too tight for him, and a short-sleeve blue oxford shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons that looks very good on me because of my tan. I have on OP corduroy shorts, cream color, and navy blue Dockside boat shoes. It's cool. A Mexican sitting on the ground asks Is he her son or her lover? as we pass by on the sidewalk of Tijuana's main street, around five or six p.m., in the middle of July. My father refuses to let me spend the following year with the L.s even though I could have gone to the French high school that was right next door.
The Works of Guillaume Dustan, Volume 1 Page 5