The Works of Guillaume Dustan, Volume 1

by Guillaume Dustan

  21

  (1993)

  I cruised him on the Minitel. He said he was straight, twenty-eight years old, cute, well-built, well-hung and looking to fuck someone with a dildo. I said to myself Why not, since I was smoked out on hash, and today again, I had nothing to do. It had been practically two years since I had stopped having sex with Quentin, I had to take care of things. Between searching for sex, waiting for it, having it, then passing out high, I could fill entire days. I waited for him to arrive.

  He was all in black. Cowboy boots (I've always had a weakness for cowboy boots), tight jeans, Lacoste, Perfecto. Cute indeed, actually really cute, really well-built too. We settled in. I had already pulled out what we needed. He stayed dressed. He just took off his boots to climb on the bed. He put on some gloves. As soon as he touched my ass I knew I was in for a treat. This guy was really subtle. He fucked me perfectly with the dildo, working my ass from right to left, forward and backward, as if he was kneading dough or something like that. With the second dildo he pulled out his cock which was magnificent, not huge, just thick and long. He put on a condom and jerked off with his left hand while fucking me hard with the Lord. I was sniffing poppers while jerking off, super hard. That was great.

  Then he pulled off his condom and got up and said Come suck me off. I squatted down on the Lord and I went to suck him off but he moved off. Not like that, he said. Lick! I started to lick.

  He moved off again. Not like that, he said. Little licks. I touched his balls lightly with my tongue, he said Good. I knew that he was close. He picked my head up to look at the head that was dripping, he was jacking off super slowly, I was totally hypnotized, I knew that he wanted me to fantasize about him coming in my mouth, I opened my mouth, fantasizing was no trouble at all, it had been six years since anyone had done that to me. Without warning he started to come. I closed my mouth immediately but it was too late, I had already taken a jet of come, the bastard, that's exactly what he wanted. I closed my eyes because he was spraying all over my face, and when he finally finished, I came too, super aroused. I headed off to the bathroom with my eyes closed, with that long-forgotten taste in my mouth, cursing him.

  22

  (1993)

  July thirteenth. My mother's birthday. I woke up late. I got on the Minitel. I made some calls. I took a taxi for Beaugrenelle, I had some memories there. Today was a training session, twenty-ninth floor, the guy was supposed to be thirty-five years old. When I got to his door I heard screams. Then smacks. A whip. I recognized the sound. Then more screams. I pushed my ear against the door. It's fine, I'm leaving, said one voice. You don't want to keep going? said another. No, said the first voice angrily. I told myself that was the moment to ring the doorbell.

  The guy who opened up had a mustache, was pretty tall, pretty old, pretty out-of-shape, shirtless in leather jeans and boots. Behind him in the lobby of this loft-type apartment, a real tall skinny guy was putting on his socks, standing awkwardly, his face all red. The guy was probably a loser but I didn't feel like leaving. I was here already, and I had nothing else to do except get back on the Minitel. So, I said Hi!, and walked in. The other masochist grabbed his bag and left.

  There was a massive desk covered in papers in front of me, a room off to the left with a bay window that looked over the towers, the big digital clock of Beaugrenelle that read three p.m., the sky. The guy grabbed my nipples really hard. He pulled down on them to get me to kneel. I found myself at eye level with his package. He pushed my face against it, really hard. I thought it was the kind of gesture that only proved the stupidity of the person doing it (later he would go on to crush my head with his cowboy boot, and since he did everything too forcefully, this idiot smashed my ear, nothing serious, no blood, but the cartilage blistered so much that I went and showed it to a doctor thinking it was the beginning of the end because I hadn't made the connection, I noticed the thing only months later. It's called cauliflower ear, the doctor told me. I found that funny).

  I didn't say anything. As soon as he let up enough so that I could move my head, I started to lick his bulge with long strokes of the tongue, I was trying to steer things towards a sexier mood. He ended up getting hard. He pulled out his cock. I sucked it. He smelled. I told myself that he probably did this on purpose the days when he had these kinds of hookups. Then he pulled up his pants and he went to look for the whip on his desk. He came back, he knelt down (I was still on my knees) and he unbuttoned my 501s, and pulled them down so my ass was bare (I was wearing a jockstrap). He started whipping me, right away it was too much but I was still able to get hard. After a while it was starting to hurt. I took a look at the damage. My ass was already marked up, marks that would go away in two days max if I stopped now, but not if I kept going, so I pulled up my pants without changing position. He started again, I looked at the floor, beige plastic tile, good quality, in winter those tiles must be a nightmare, now it's OK because it's July, my mother's birthday. The strokes were bearable thanks to my jeans but he was whipping the asshole harder and harder, and it started hurting again, and I restrained myself a little, out of politeness, so I didn't ruin his trip, and then I said Stop! He kept going. So, the S&M rules don't apply? I said, Stop! again, in a firmer, almost pissed-off tone. He stopped.

  He told me to strip. I did it without getting up, it was sexier, and kept my cock ring on, normal, but also my socks and my jockstrap, and since he had left I allowed myself a bit of insubordination, I put my Converses back on, classic navy blue All Stars, which made me look like a little slut like you wouldn't believe, at twenty-seven I could still play the teenage pervert. He came back with something in his hands. A leather mask, I had that too at my place, which I had bought off this skinhead who was selling it on the Minitel, I had used it with a lot of guys, and often on myself, I mean I was used to it, but it was still pretty special, that kind of thing. I stood up so he could put it on me. He was shaking a little. He tied the top knot very tightly, and then the back straps too, but it was bearable, the leather really, I was familiar with that so I wasn't scared, and then he tied the lace around my neck but that was entirely too tight, I would have suffocated in ten seconds, I told him It's too tight. He untied the knot, I knew I was pissing him off but he still did it, he didn't want me to leave, two in a row would have been too much for his ego. I put my finger between the string and my neck so it wouldn't strangle me, he tied the knot and then one after the other he closed each eye slot.

  Needless to say, I was hard. He shoved his thumb in my mouth and I sucked on it avidly, in the dark, feeling my jaw rubbing against the leather of the mask when I tried to open my mouth all the way up to swallow his whole hand, it pulled tight, I was strangling myself with the lace around my neck, that made me get even harder. Then he pulled his hand back out and he aggressively shoved my face back into his package, leather on leather, so hardcore, but OK, I took advantage of the moment to get high on the smell, I had trouble breathing in deeply, the mask was so tight. And then he relaxed the pressure so I did what I had to do, I started licking, it was difficult since I could only open half of my mouth, but I managed rather well.

  This whole time I was rubbing my erect cock through my jockstrap. When he noticed he grabbed my wrists and crossed them over each other. He held them like that with one hand while he unbuttoned his pants with the other and fed me his stinky cock to suck. With how turned-on I was now, the smell wasn't really annoying, on the contrary. His dick was pretty big, not too hard or soft. His pubes weren't trimmed. His balls weren't shaved. I swallowed them as much as I could (the hole in the mask was too small and the hair made it hard to suck it efficiently). He made me stop. I heard him walk away. I stayed put obediently, keeping my hands behind my back.

  He returned. He grabbed one of my wrists. He placed a metal handcuff on it that was too tight. Then a second. It hurt, but not terribly. Then I felt something rub against my ankles and it was another pair of handcuffs, leather, with a little more give, and it wasn't going to hurt. He zippe
d closed the mouth opening. That was it. There weren't any other holes in the mask except the small ones under my nostrils, it was going to get hot! He pulled me up quickly, I barely regained my balance, he dragged me to my right pulling me by the lace at the top of the mask, he was walking fast (when I did this I played it rather slow pulling on the neck to choke only slightly), I was stumbling because of the cuffs around my ankles, I banged into something (not hard, it was OK, I thought that I wouldn't have a bruise), a wall, something else, a door (I wasn't able to see anything), and then he pressed me against something that was about the height of my waist and he flipped me backwards, I trusted him hoping only that it wouldn't be covered with razor blades, it's crazy what you do with strangers, up until now, I hadn't had any problems with the five or six hundred guys I had already hooked up with, half of whom were probably one-on-one, either at their place, or mine, without anyone knowing where I was, at the beginning I used to leave the addresses with Quentin and then I ended up telling myself that I didn't care if my murderer was ever punished, so I stopped doing it, maybe now was the time when things would go wrong, but no, I landed on a slightly cold horizontal plane. He grabbed my feet, swung them around. I found myself almost laying down, there wasn't enough room, with the circle of a sink at my back. The faucet was jabbing me in the sides, I freed myself by wriggling. I was able to put my handcuffed hands in the hollow of the sink. I arranged myself properly.

  That's when I heard the sound of the clippers. Then I felt them against my chest. This asshole was shaving a circle around my nipples. I thought about screaming but it was a bit late. He had me. There was only one thing to do. Either get pissed and tell him to stop, which would kill the mood and I would split (which he certainly wouldn't have minded, he could have really fucked me up). Or I would try to enjoy it. That's what I decided. All I had to do was use some hair removal cream on the top half of my body to be able to go on vacation with my father as planned. How would I explain it? I did it because I was too hot? He moved on to my stomach. Methodically, strip by strip. I focused on my misfortune. I started to moan like I used to with Quentin. I whimpered, in a sort of slight disassociation that allowed me to enjoy the whimpering without it seeming insincere. He stopped. He said Do you want to see? I find S&M funny sometimes, it's really a childish game. Messing around. I nodded. So he unzipped my eye covers and I turned my head to the left towards the mirror and I saw what he had done.

  Each of my nipples was surrounded by a circle of white skin two centimeters wide. My stomach was shaved from the bottom of my ribs to three centimeters below my navel. The rest was the same, hairy. It was pretty classy. I muttered Hon! Hon!, to make him understand that I had something to say to him. He unzipped my mouth. I asked Can I get down?, I'm in pain, now. He said OK. He turned me around again, downwards this time. As soon as I regained my balance I asked Can you untie me, I want to roll a joint. I needed to get excited again. He said You can if you want. Me, I don't smoke. Too bad for your stupid face, I thought to myself. He took the handcuffs off. I took off the mask, somewhat feverishly, I have to say. I took a deep breath. Then I reached down and untied my ankle cuffs and without paying any attention to him I went to find something to roll my joint with in my things in the living room.

  He followed me. I could tell he felt uncertain, so I said Would you like to find a third? What I didn't say was that if we didn't find one I was splitting. He must have understood. He said, Yeah why not?, looking mildly enthusiastic. I asked, So should we go on the Minitel? He said OK, so we went into his bedroom, which faced the damned bathroom. I rolled a joint while he looked. There wasn't much of anything. Another bottom, who was claimed to be young and well-built. He asked what I thought. I was like Yeaaaah, not convinced. I took a hit of my joint. And then the phone rang and he went to answer it and I took the opportunity to change his profile while adding myself (“Hey do you mind if I modify your profile? That way it's clearer.”). That's when I got cruised by a guy named yvoyeur. Young, that was nice, voyeur less so, I thought, but he typed BERNARD? beaugrenelle? I typed yes. It was interesting that he already knew the master of the house. He asked me how it was going. I typed not bad u want come watch? He answered y NOT, so I typed tel? He told me he would call. Two minutes later the phone rang. Bernard answered. He described me (“very submissive”). He asked me what I liked, again. He repeated it back to the other guy. OK, see you soon. He hung up. When does he get here? I asked, hoping that it wouldn't take ages. The time it takes him to get here, he doesn't live far, Bernard replied. I asked him if he knew him well. He said that the guy came over from time to time. I asked if he was as cute as he said. Yeah, he's not bad, Bernard said. I laid down on a pillow at the head of the bed and I smoked, and then I got cold and afraid of giving him any ideas so I said, I'm cold, I'm going to put something on while we wait, and I went to the living room to put on my tank top.

  Fail. He joined me holding a pair of pretty hardcore nipple clamps, sheathed at least, with weights. He pulled up my tank top to put them on. I looked at my nipples so that I didn't have to look at his face. First he kept the weights in the palm of his hand and then he let them fall down the small chain, it gave me a little jolt that distracted me from the burning of the clamps. My jockstrap filled up. So he made me get on all fours and he started whipping me with his martinet, this time all over my body, and it definitely felt better now that the sensation was balanced out by that of the clamps. I almost enjoyed it. The doorbell rang.

  Bernard went to open the door. I stayed on all fours, my naked and reddened ass facing the door. Young voyeur was going to be pleased. I didn't turn my head to look at him. It was going to be a surprise. The first thing I saw were his stonewashed blue jeans. At the very bottom were beige deerskin moccasins, not too light nor too dark, the very supple kind, with only one seam, no other ornamentation, not the Italian style, but very Native American, roots. I found it extremely sexy, it reminded me of Bion, the playboy of my eighth-grade class, a blond pretty-boy who walked on his heels, pelvis forward, and who always had new shoes, each pair sexier than the last, he alternately had the black and burgundy Sebagos and then these moccasins in white leather with little colored beads, moccasins were really trendy then.

  They made comments, sounding detached, as if I wasn't there. Not bad, blah blah, slut, good sucker, blah blah blah. I looked up. His thighs were thin but well-defined. His pelvis was around my size. I looked up. A black leather belt, thin. I looked up. A white polo shirt that wasn't Lacoste but looked good on him. I looked up. He was handsome. Short, chestnut hair, cut like a straight guy. Twenty-five years old? Olive skin, brown eyes, big mouth, long lashes, well-defined eyebrows. Like in a dream. He looked down at me, from above. He said Not bad… In a very neutral tone. Let's hope he participates.

  At first he didn't do anything. He stayed back. He watched. I blew the old guy, doing poppers. He threw me to the ground, whipped my ass, made me smell his cowboy boots, I didn't want to lick them. That's when he crushed my ear. And then Prince Charming slid his foot under my nose. I didn't really know what to do. Do you lick a deerskin moccasin? I didn't know, so I didn't try, only sniffed. I breathed in mouthfuls of white tennis sock, summer-warm. With the toe of one shoe he pulled off the sock from the other foot. I moved toward his clammy toes. Sniffed them hard. I was getting really high. He pushed his big toe across my lips. I sucked hard on his big toe, then the other toes, everything I could get my mouth around. I was getting super hard. You're going to eat his ass now, the old guy said. It surprised me that he would allow himself to decide for the other. Maybe he was submissive. It could have been cool to be abused together. For right now I stared at his jeans as they fell along his white underwear, his tanned, curving, slightly hairy thighs. He pulled his underwear down.

  He offered his ass. I placed my nose between his crack. His hole wasn't shaved, wasn't washed, but wasn't dirty. I placed my tongue right in the middle. Contact. I licked. Breathing in slowly at first, to get used to the smell, and then when
I realized that it wasn't so strong, I took deeper and deeper breaths to get swept away. I thought of those American porn movies where tops get eaten out to to ensure a good hard-on before fucking. He arched. I licked him with slow strokes of the tongue, from inside his thigh all the way up just above his hole. Skin, hair, hole, hair, skin. Skin, hair, hole, hair, skin. Right when I was able to get him to really relax, he turned around. This bastard knew how to frustrate me just right. We were perfect for each other. He pulled his package closer to my face, grabbed the back of my head. He pressed it. I got drunk on his scent. He shoved his dick into my mouth all the way until it hit the glottis and I had to let everything go to breathe.

  He talked to the old guy while I was sucking. After a while he pulled out. Got dressed. The old guy led me to the bathroom. Told me to get in the bathtub. I got in. To open my mouth. I opened up. They took out their cocks. I tried to suck off the young guy but he moved out of my reach. His piss stream landed on my lips. You're going to swallow it, OK? The old guy said. I had to choose, either take it or leave it. It didn't seem too concentrated, the color was pretty clear. I went for it. It went down fine. I put myself at the source and I drank. He was pissing very slowly, controlling the flow. I eyed up the pink head of his penis and his silky white cock. It turned me on. He stopped.