He made a call on his cell. Another piercing. A nipple I think. He left. I waited for Stéphane. He was supposed to come help me move some stuff. The bleeding wasn't stopping. Stéphane arrived late, looking very happy to see me. I told him there was a problem, that I just got my ball sack pierced and it wouldn't stop bleeding. He asked me But that means we won't be able to have sex for how long? I said two, three weeks. He groaned as if I had hit him. He punched the wall. I realized that I had just fucked over our new start.
I stuffed my underwear full of toilet paper. The blood was starting to stain my 501s. We took his car. He drove me to my new place. He carried up the stuff I had with me. I was trying not to move too much so the bleeding would stop. He stayed for a bit and then he left to go to sleep, he had to get up early the next day.
10 Christmas Eve
For Christmas, I was alone in my new apartment. My bank account had been wiped out by the move, I'd had to work hard to bring in the cash. As soon as I had finished I got sick. Stéphane came by and brought me ham and canned soup before he went away to his parents. We were supposed to go see a painting exhibition that was ending, the one time he was free on a weekday afternoon. And then I got sick. Both of us knew it was the end without admitting it. He didn't stay long.
I called my mother to tell her we could still maybe get together as a family, which was a bit phony. Had she offered, I would have refused. I was thinking about Quentin. Our first year, we'd ended up one inside the other on Christmas Eve. He had smiled at me while on top, Merry Christmas my love. We had kissed. For New Year's Eve, the same thing. It's been three years now that we haven't observed the tradition.
I got on the Minitel. I connected with a guy whose screen name was Fuck No Condoms. This little guy asked me what interested me in his profile. I told him Fkn u w/o a condom. I thought he was suspicious of me. I don't specify safe sex in my profile, but it is true that I do have a profile of a guy who does have safe sex. Guys who like to fuck without condoms never go into detail about what kind of fucking they like, hard or soft or raunchy or man-to-man or whatever other nuance, what really interests them is wallowing in poisoned cum, in a dark and romantic fuck, I'm saying this in a condescending way, but it's true, it's very powerful. One time I was in a three-way like that and I stalled, I kept losing my hard-on in their asses, and when they fucked me, I was too freaked out about having unsafe sex, I mean we don't know anything about reinfection but what we do know is that by doing that kind of thing you can catch all kinds of other shit. That said, when that little pervert squirted inside the tall skinhead's ass, no condom, it was breathtaking. The kiss of death, they say.
When he called me he told me he felt like fucking rather than being fucked tonight. I thought to myself, finally one who isn't stupid. I said I think there's going to be a problem then because I don't get fucked without a condom. He said he wasn't going to come over. We didn't have the same despair. I promised myself that when my T4s dropped below two hundred, I'd get back to it.
I took the last E that was in the fridge and jerked off shoving a bunch of stuff up my ass while watching a porn movie that I kept rewinding. I was so stoned that I knocked over the Christmas tree and the CD tower while handling the bag of dildos. I thought that was funny.
11 Merry Christmas!
I woke up around one. I wasn't hungry; I felt good because of the E. I just drank a glass of water and got on the Minitel. I connected with a guy who had a nice plan. Reciprocal fucking and play with Jeff Stryker's dildo. Everything went as planned except after we opened our asses up wide with the two dildos he brought over, we stood up, I offered up my ass to his big glistening condomless dick. He slipped it in me. It felt good. He stopped pretty short after. I turned him around so I could have my turn. Then back to the dildo. I shoved the Stryker deep inside him and fucked him with it while I sat back down on his purplish-blue cock. Then he did the same thing to me. We each came while fucking ourselves deep with the dildo. I told myself that this more or less worked out because there wasn't any semen in either our asses.
That evening I was planning to have dinner in the Marais, at a friend's who for years regularly used to invite Quentin and me to dinner. I'd also been to his place once with Stéphane. I arrived on time. We had an aperitif with his current boyfriend. I said that I'd just left Stéphane. We had dinner. After that I found myself out in the cold streets. It must have been around one a.m. I wondered whether I should go home, sleep to get some rest, or else go out. I decided you have to have faith in life, Christmas day needs it. I walked through the night to Quetzal. I thought there would be an interesting crowd there, the hardcore ones, the ones with no family. There were indeed quite a few. I got a beer, I set up in this spot where you get the best view, near the door to the bathroom. I looked over the merchandise. I was completely detached. If there wasn't anything, OK, I would go home gladly.
There wasn't anything particularly amazing. And then I saw this tall Black guy in a beanie, really tall, around 6’4”, two hundred and forty pounds, super beefy, on the chubby side, young, a beautiful face, a reserved look. We smiled at each other. I went over and asked him Where are you from in America? He said I'm not from America, I'm from Africa. I said Oh OK, so you must be some sort of African prince. That made him laugh. We talked, about him, about me, about zen. His hotel was at l’Étoile, Americans are always so scared of shady neighborhoods. We head to my place.
When we got home instead of jumping on him right away I rolled a joint stretched out on the bed. He didn't want to smoke. He asked me if I smoke all the time. I said No, only every evening. He said So you're a drug addict? I denied it. I smoked my joint.
We weren't fucking. He got undressed anyway because the heat was on full blast. He was lying next to me in his t-shirt and briefs. I asked him if he wouldn't mind if I sucked his dick. He said You can try to, if you really want to. Five good minutes later there it was, he was sporting a real hard-on. I slipped a condom on him and sat on his big and pointy dick. He wasn't moving. We weren't kissing. I fucked myself. After a while, he turned me around and fucked me really quick and really hard almost without touching me. I had to brainwash myself, repeating that I was a little white whore who was getting fucked by a big Black man so I could manage to stay hard and then come, at the same time as him for that matter, I have to say he took his time, It gave me all the time I needed to take care of myself. I asked him afterwards if he usually didn't use his hands more when he fucked. He said he actually does. I thought about that.
12 Negotiations
Quentin calls me. He tells me things are going bad with him and Nico. I say You don't love him anyway. At least I dumped Stéphane. He says I want to see you. Do you want to come over? I say Are you serious? With your boyfriend showing up on us at any moment? It's out of the question. He says Let's meet up at Quetzal then. Going out seems totally beyond my powers and pointless as well. On top of that, I want him to be the one who comes, makes the effort. He's the one looking to get me back after all. I say No I'm not going out. You can come over here. He says OK, I'll be there in an hour. I know he needs at least an hour and a half, given the cumulative effects of the weed and the Xanax. He told me he had cut back on his dosage. I don't know if that's true. He lies all the time. Two hours pass and I know that there's a problem. I check at his place. Answering machine. I speak in case he's screening. No one picks up. He calls two minutes later. The code isn't working. I say OK I'll come down. I throw on some jeans with no underwear, my bomber jacket with no shirt, and sneakers with no socks. No one's downstairs. The code works fine. I wait five minutes. I think that he must have gotten the wrong street. I run in the rain to the same address on Faubourg SaintDenis. I remember the four-way we had four years ago, a few doors down, at these two hunky guys's place, tall, ripped, versatile, both with huge cocks. They had a giant ball of great hash. Everybody had fucked me but it was Quentin they obviously preferred, with him there were more things they could do. I wound up with a big dildo in my ass,
which I wasn't used to at the time, and then I took off because it was just too much. The next day, Quentin told me that he'd woken up with one of them fucking him.
No one there. I go back home. After what seems like ages, the phone rings. I say You're on the wrong street, it's not Saint-Denis, it's Saint-Martin. I hang up. He arrives totally smashed. He criticizes the apartment that everyone loves except for my sister and me. I tell him I know. It's all I could afford. He rolls a joint that looks too strong to me. We talk about the past. He tells me he's changed. We talk about our possible future. I tell him I think we should fuck now so we'll know where we stand. He says No, he thinks it's too soon, maybe later, like tomorrow at his New Year's party where there'll be coke and no Nico who has to spend it with his parents in the country.
After a while, he asks me to come sit on his lap. I'm not in love with the idea, but I go over anyway. Sitting there, stiff as a marionette, I compare it to how it used to make me feel. We kiss. It's technically perfect but it doesn't get me hard. He ends up leaving. I jump on the Minitel but there isn't anything going on there so I head out to the sex club.
When I got there, there was practically no one. A young wellbuilt guy was lying there waiting, legs spread, ankles in the stirrups of a sling, with a big hard cock, completely naked except for a pair of navy-blue Converse sneakers without socks. I went into a private room all the way in the back. I waited. Two ugly looking men poked their heads in. I made a face. They left. A half hour later, I was still there. Nothing was happening. I left the room. I walked around. The guy was still lying in the sling. I walked up to him. I started to jerk off. I got hard thinking that he was there to be fucked by just anyone. I pushed my dick up against his asshole. I told him, I don't have a condom. He said It's no big deal. I spit on it to lube it up. I had a hard time getting in. And then I did it. I fucked him with finesse. He stayed hard without touching himself. Another guy appeared. He came up to watch. Instinctively, I pressed up against the guy's asshole to keep the other one from seeing we were fucking without a condom. He saw it anyway. He left. I kept going. I felt myself getting close. I asked myself Do I come in him? That's what he wants anyway. And then I pulled out and shot off on the floor. I went back to my private room. I ended up getting fucked, dildoed, and fisted by a really hot little guy who worked me over like a god saying to me That's right man, have a blast, let me see those eyes roll back in your head.
13 And Happy New Year!
I got to Quentin's at ten past midnight. The guests weren't done kissing yet. I inspected the apartment where nothing that needed to be done had gotten done since I left. Everybody told me I looked great. Quentin was fucked up on drugs. Coke, I knew, but also joint after joint he was extorting from some poor girl clinging to his coat tails even though I know he has his own stash. An hour passed and there still wasn't any talk of the coke he'd told me about the night before. Since I was done waiting for him to be polite, I went and asked him for it. I said I'd prefer not to have to do this, but since you're not offering, I have to ask. Where's the coke? He said How much will you give me for it? I said Nothing, are you kidding me? I'm not about to pay you for a line of coke. He said OK, fine. He took off. I waited. He finally came back and told me to take the yellow straw from the vase on the mantle in the bedroom and meet him in the bathroom. Nico was also in the bathroom, he'd just gotten back into town and talked about how great it was to meet up again after a year. I wanted to kill him but I kept my mouth shut so I could get some coke, all I did was move his arms from my shoulder, that was a little too much.
The coke was pretty shitty, hard and weird. Or else it was the party that was. I still got some surges of energy. Danced a little. Quentin looked over from time to time, stoned but also enamored. Then Nico would come by for reassurance. Of course we're going to fuck and sleep together, Quentin said, cut us half an E, the first wasn't enough. Nico came back to say he wasn't able, he didn't know how to, that there were too many people in the kitchen. Quentin yelled at him. I was disgusted. Can't you see he just wants some attention? He didn't answer. He didn't move.
I danced some more, without conviction. Had a discussion with some stars of the ghetto whom I didn't like and who didn't like me either. Around two a.m., a guy arrived, terribly beautiful, a really monstrous beauty, very young, who jumped in front of me in line for the toilet. When he came out, I couldn't resist, I had talk to him. I said Are you David? He said No, I'm Ivan. Ah, I said, Then you're not the dealer everyone's waiting for. He said No I'm not, David's supposed to drop by though, I saw him a little while ago at another party. I thought to myself This guy is really perfect. He said I'm kind of tired tonight. I said Go lie down or do some drugs. He said I already took some coke but I don't feel great. I asked him his age to know how old you have to be to get skin like that. Twenty-one, he said. Quentin told me later that this guy was kept by a famous designer. He and his group of beautiful people, they go to the gym every day, tanning beds every day, drugs every day. They don't do anything, they have sponsors. All of them between eighteen and twenty-two.
After around two hours, I felt myself fading. I was sitting next to him, reading some stupid thing he had written and wanted to show me, the sweet little guy who was playing records all night leaned over, he said You look sad. I looked up, I thought he was hitting on me, it bothered me actually because I hadn't even noticed him before and now I thought he wasn't bad, and I told myself that I was only thinking that because he was hitting on me, and then I thought, Don't I have the right? It was dumb. Nico hovered around us dying of jealousy. Just a little earlier, for the first time since we met, he propositioned me, probably he sensed that Quentin was after me again and that scared him to death. It's true I've always wanted his nine inches, but his offer came a little too late.
After three hours when I saw myself in a mirror I looked drained, grey, dead. I asked Quentin How can you just keep going? He said It's hard. I thought That's nonsense. I got my coat and I left. I walked all the way to the quais, Place Stalingrad, there was practically nobody. I hung around anyway, and chatted with a guy dressed up in riot-police gear. I got in bed around six a.m. The next day I woke up with a fever.
Quentin called me two days later. He wanted to ask for a favor, he had to come over to explain it. I greeted him in a bathrobe. He held out a small blue package. A gift. I said Thanks and put it aside without opening it. He lit a cigarette without asking for permission. I pointed out to him that this might bother me. He looked surprised. I began to insult him, for Nico, for me, for his perpetual lack of awareness, his terrible treatment of people. I shoved the package he brought me back into the pocket of his bomber jacket. I threw him out. He called the next day to tell me he was hurt but that it was probably delicious to be tortured by the one you love. I didn't believe him for a second. I thought This time, it's over.
14 Teeth Marks
A few days later I was feeling better. I went back to Quetzal. I saw some friends. We caught up on all the news. Dennis got around to telling me he was worried because he was waiting for his test results and he'd been doing stupid shit. I said What kind of stupid shit? He said, Well, last year I was with a guy for a few months and we were fucking without condoms. I said Ah. He said And I just found out he's sick. I said Yeah that sucks. He said on top of that he was still unemployed, that he didn't get the job he was hoping for. To lighten things up, I asked him which of the guys there that night were a good fuck, even though I don't have much confidence in him for that type of thing, I don't think we have the same criteria, but it's been four years since we've fucked, he might have made some progress.
He pointed out a little guy, our age, maybe slightly younger, shaved head, tight white t-shirt, really nice body, really popular, talking with some girls who were just as popular just a couple feet from us. He said There's him, you'd get along fine with him I'm sure. I said Why? He said He's a really good fuck. I asked Is he a top or bottom? Well-hung? Into S&M or vanilla sex? Dennis answered Yes to everything, but mor
e bottom than top. I looked at him again. I thought Well why not. As if by chance, the guy took off his shirt right at that moment. I thought that was a little much. Of course his body was amazing. Completely shaved. Big nipples. Not a hair on his chest. I said But what's he like to fuck? More cerebral or more physical? Dennis said More cerebral. The last time I fucked him he told me Wait, he went looking for a mirror to put under him so he could see my dick up his ass. Dennis seemed to think that was hot. It turned me off. I didn't find him hot enough to care if he uses me. I asked Was it with or without a condom? Without, said Dennis. I decided not to fuck him. It was getting too tempting.
I went to the bar to get us some cold beers. I ran into some other friends. Marcelo told me that he had gotten his other nipple pierced. He said And you when are you going to get yours done? I said Me? No, I am not into nipple piercings, I don't want to lose my sensitivity. Marcello asked me if I still had his number. I said Yes. He said Then call me sometime, I still haven't forgotten what we did together in Italy. I said No, me neither, and that was the truth. But I didn't want to call him. I found myself alone in the middle of the bar with a beer in my hand. I looked around and saw my dreams destroyed.
Finally I hooked up with a new guy. My height, short brown hair, beautiful face, nice body, black jeans, black t-shirt. Another popular one, but whatever, I was hot for him. I looked at him. He gave me a reasonably interested look. I smiled. He smiled back, his teeth weren't that great, a bit spread out and pointy. I thought this made him sexier. We chatted. I quickly asked the two or three essential questions. Yes, he was versatile. No, he wasn't into rough S&M. I said OK, let's go. He didn't have a car, evidently he was broke. We took a taxi. We groped each other a little in the taxi. It was nice. Then, once we got in my place, he started grabbing my ass in the stairwell, kind of macho, I let him do it, he put his whole fist between my ass cheeks to make me walk up the stairs, it reminded me of Quentin, a little too rough, a little too hard. It made me horny actually that for once a cute guy my age was going to take control and not the other way around.
The Works of Guillaume Dustan, Volume 1 Page 11