The Works of Guillaume Dustan, Volume 1

by Guillaume Dustan

  Now the other one wanted his share of the fun. His piss was disgusting, stinking, deep yellow. I let it fall out the sides of my mouth. He got angry. I spit it out and said it was too concentrated, that if he wanted me to swallow, he needed to drink, sorry. OK, very well, he said. He wound himself up to take his revenge, he didn't want to lose face in front of the young guy, I closed my eyelids really tight so they wouldn't get burned. Open your mouth! He said. I kept my eyes closed shut, I opened my mouth, I could feel two streams of piss entering inside, I was clearly in for it. They left telling me to clean up and then come meet them. I felt around for the water, and then I rinsed myself, first the eyes, then the mouth, then the rest. I dried off with a towel that was lying around.

  I met them in the living room. They were drinking a beer. The old guy told me to kneel. I knelt. He went into the kitchen. Came back with a candle. He lit it. I said Not the hair. Shouldn't you gag him?, the young guy said. That immediately got me twice as hard. I didn't move. The old guy came back with a ball gag. I had the same one. He fastened it at the back of my neck. The latex ball held my mouth open. In two minutes I was going to start drooling, or else it would be a total ordeal to swallow my saliva. He handcuffed me again. My dick was so hard that my cock ring was hurting me.

  The young one pulled my package out from the jockstrap. The first drop missed my dick. But not the second. I didn't go soft, actually the opposite. The suspense was killing me. I was completely focused on my sensations. Waiting. Burning, like a well-placed blow. At times I stayed back because it got too hot, and then the pain would fade away so I would stick my cock back out and… Aaaahhh! The wax trickled drop by drop. It was an endurance game. They encouraged me. I watched my cock getting slowly covered in white. Like in a dream. The old guy moved down progressively until he was pouring wax just on the head of my penis. He ended by pouring it directly into my urethra. Once it was all covered, he pushed me forward, I rolled, my shoulders on the ground. He wanted to do my asshole next, that was serious. I shook. I looked over my shoulder thinking this fucker must have started four inches away from my ass, but no, he was standing up, his arm held high, it's just that I wasn't used to this on my ass. I still grumbled. He pulled his hand higher. Second drop of wax on the hole, Ahhhhhhh!

  He had already come down a lot when I turned around again. The drops were falling closer and closer together. Now that my hole was completely covered they rolled onto my balls. I was like a ball. And then I felt someone pulling the wax out of my hole (luckily it was shaved) and then putting something in and I reopened my eyes, turned my head to see. The two of them were crouching behind me. The candle planted in my ass. The pretty boy grabbed my dick. He pulled it from behind to let the wax drip down on it. Ahhhhhhh!

  I couldn't feel a thing anymore. It stopped. A dull sound to my right. That's for you, it's a souvenir, said the young one. The milky-white shell was the exact mold of the head of my penis.

  * * *

  They take me to the bathroom to clean up. I lift off the pieces of wax stuck to my skin, to my hair. I rinse. They put me down on all fours in the bathtub. The old guy unscrews the shower head off the handle, lets the water run, shoves the hose up my ass, tells me to hold it all in, let it flow. I let myself fill up, I can feel it pass the second sphincter, it's filling my belly, it's OK, it's warm. He massages my belly so that I take even more in, it's starting to hurt, I tell him, he says Just a little more. I take more, I feel it starting to get heavy (on my diaphragm?). He tells me to hold it in as long as possible. They leave me.

  I'm alone in the bathtub, on all fours, my head down, ass exposed. Pretty quickly I feel like I am going to explode if I don't let a little out. I let it run. And then I tell myself let's see what happens if I stick with it for a while, so I squeeze my ass tight, lift it high, my head against the bottom of the tub. It's harder and harder to hold on. After about fifteen, twenty minutes, I can't anymore, I start to get cold, to shiver, I tell myself enough already so I let go. It takes me ten minutes to empty myself out. It hurts. The old guy comes to check, then he leaves.

  * * *

  When I get back to the living room I see them looking at me and talking. Talking about what they're going to do to me. They agree on something. The old guy handcuffs my wrists behind my back with the leather cuffs. Puts the ball gag back into my mouth. Takes me to the kitchen. The younger guy follows with his bottle of Evian. He drinks. Looks at me without saying a word. The old guy opens up a cupboard, pulls out the trash can, pulls out an empty quart of milk, then grabs the bag, comes close to me, and puts the bag over my head. Very funny. Then he ties a knot around my neck with the handles. The plastic sticks to my face. I panic. I grumble really loudly shaking my head. The old guy pulls off the bag. I'm covered in carrot shavings, tears in my eyes. That didn't make him laugh, the young guy says.

  * * *

  The old guy makes me get on all fours and shoves four anal beads (size small) up my ass. Then he puts the nipple clamps back on me and works me over while the young one drinks his water sitting in one of the chairs. I moan a little to make them understand that I have something to say. He pulls the gag off with trails of spit attached to it, I say I would like to roll another joint. I take advantage of the moment to go shit out the beads. When I get back, he replaces them with a black butt plug.

  * * *

  The shitty music stops. I ask if he has anything else and he tells me what he has but it's all shit. Dire Straits is the least nauseating but I can't see myself doing this kind of thing to Dire Straits, so I suggest radio FG.6

  * * *

  They lead me to the bathroom, make me sit on the toilet, piss on me at the same time, the piss flows from my chest to my stomach, along my package, into the toilet. They take turns pissing in my face, the old guy's piss isn't as strong as earlier, I swallow a little of his, the young one's piss is almost clear now, just a little salty, I drink as much of it as I can from the pink tip of his dick until I sense the other one is starting to get angry. They aim higher again, have some fun doing my nose, my eyes, I close my eyelids really tight. They aim lower, I wipe my eyes, they piss on my cock, I watch, I spread my legs to see the image of it, the ribbons of piss flowing on my throbbing cock, they tell me to turn around. Stand up! They piss on my ass. On all fours! Head in the toilet, they piss on my head. They end up needing to stop. Tell me to clean up. I dry with toilet paper and then I use a sponge and some Cif to wash the basin, the ground, the black lacquer walls, all drenched.

  The digital clock of Beaugrenelle showed it was nine. I asked Are you hungry? Would you like me to make something to eat? They agreed. I put my shoes back on so that I didn't have to walk on the cold and rather dirty kitchen floor. I did with what was there: pasta with vegetables (zucchini and carrots that I sliced thin, blanched, then sautéed), pasta, and frozen ground meat. After a while, since I was bored all alone, I asked the old guy to put the clamps back on. As a bonus, he also shoved a butt plug in.

  I plated the food and served it, theirs first obviously, then mine. They watched me cross the living room, stomach and nipples shaved, weighted nipple clamps, jockstrap and blue Converse shoes, butt plug in my ass. Like in a dream. I sat at the bottom of the couch, at their feet. I said Bon appétit. They said, Thanks.

  * * *

  I rolled a joint. I smoked half of it with the young one whose name I finally learned, Pierre, then I cleared everything away. I did the dishes. Night fell. When I got back to the living room, the old guy explained to me that I was going to put on a little show for them to end the night. Four dildos, two buttplugs and two strips of anal beads were all laid out on the table. My bomber jacket was covering the seat of one of the leather chairs. He made me sit down and put each leg on the armrest. My ass was completely exposed that way. Now show us what you can do, he said, as he walked over to sit with Pierre on the couch facing me. They watched me while touching themselves. I played a little with my plug, pulling it out, pushing it back in, it was pretty easy considering how lon
g I had been wearing it. The old guy pulled out his cock. He started to jack off. The young one stood up. He directed the halogen lamp right on my ass. He sat back down.

  I pulled out my plug, I bent over backwards to grab the lube and a dildo from the table. I got back into position and started to work it in. Since I wasn't that hard it was painful. I tried to jack off without much success. Actually it bothered me to do that in front of them without them participating. After a while the young one got up. He came towards me, dick in his hand. I wrapped my lips around it. He let me do it. I hadn't sucked him off since the beginning, so this got me hard fast. He gave me some poppers. I switched dildos, I grabbed one that was bigger and more supple. After a while he sat down again.

  I continued my show with the anal beads. Now that I was hard, it was exciting to watch them. I took my time. I hit the poppers that were on the armrest. Grabbed another dildo, even bigger. This is the last one, I announced. I settled myself backward so that I could ride the dildo vertically. I pushed it in and pulled it out completely. They were playing with each other's nipples and touching each other's balls. They both started coming. I came too. I stood up, totally stiff. My bomber jacket was drenched in bloody ass juices. I took a closer look, actually it wasn't that bad, only the bottom of the inside lining was stained. I walked off towards the bathroom to get some toilet paper. I came back to clean up and that's when I realized I still hadn't taken off the nipple clamps. Because I was upset I pulled them off too fast. The blood came rushing back in and it hurt so bad that I had to bite my lips not to scream.

  Bathroom. I washed myself while contracting my sphincters to try and help them recover. Then I went back to the living room. I got dressed, without the jock that was too gross and that I put in my pocket. Socks, jeans, shoes, shirts. My dick hurt. The young one gave me his number telling me that his friend's birthday is in September and he wanted to give him me as a present. He left. The old one wanted me to give him my cock ring as a souvenir. Asshole. I refused, explaining to him that I never gave anything to anyone. On the doorstep, he said You have my number, right? I said Yes. OK, ciao! And I took the elevator.

  * * *

  It was past midnight. You could still hear firecrackers from the [Bastille Day] celebrations. Of course, I couldn't get a taxi. I started walking with my bomber jacket sticking to my hand and then I got fed up so I rolled it up and tied it around my waist. I passed some groups of drunk guys coming out from the festival, I was hoping they wouldn't notice the anal juice stain that had finally formed on the back of my jeans and that I was trying to cover up with my jacket. At first I was stoned, and then I ended up coming back down, the night was rather cold. I warmed myself up by walking faster. The quais. Concorde. Les Halles. About an hour and fifteen minutes later I was home. I rolled a joint. I jerked off.

  23

  (1993)

  I left for vacation. The burns on my urethra healed by themselves in four or five days. Being completely shaved was a bit hard to take with my family, but aside from that, it wasn't too bad: between swimming laps and doing push-ups, I could see my muscles getting bigger every day. It was my first real vacation without Quentin since I had met him. I took a trip to Italy to visit Alessandro. Dr. Alban was singing It's My Life. We sang together speeding around in my rental, a Clio. It was cool. I was only thinking about dying once a day now. Average life expectancy after contamination had grown to seven years. Less than three and a half years since mine, another three and a half years left. Subtracting a year and a half of being sick, I projected another two and a half years of things running smoothly. I could go to the Leather Party in Hamburg next year. This year I didn't have the money, so I missed it.

  And then Quentin called from Paris and was smooth-talking me on the phone. He promised me that he was going to be perfect, that we would start all over again. When I got back, I went back with him, boulevard Sébastopol. After two weeks I already felt like dying. But not bad enough to call Pierre.

  24

  (1993)

  I've always had more of a thing for bouncers than for bartenders. Bouncers are more virile. Eric for example, the bouncer at Gold Coast, had a gorgeous face with permanent bags under his eyes, a broken nose and a very large mouth. He was small, stocky, really well-built, and I knew just like everyone else in the ghetto that he had one of the biggest cocks in Paris. It was rumored that he couldn't always get hard. But that's normal with guys who have really big dicks, the rush of blood that's necessary isn't always easy to get. There's also the fact that in the majority of cases nothing great is going to happen for them, that most guys will limit themselves to sucking the head and not want to get fucked, so what good is getting hard. That said Quentin had sex with him and obviously, Eric had gotten hard and fucked Quentin who told me that it was amazing! The snag was that I found out through a friend that Eric didn't like hairy guys.

  And then I went by Gold Coast one day and he was there, at the bar. I asked him So you're a bartender now, blah, blah, blah. I still liked him just as much, like crazy. I also felt that something new was happening compared to the other times I had approached him, and this something was that he might actually want to sleep with me. I must say that it was during a period when I was in really good shape, toned, appealing. He told me to come by and visit him later if I wanted, in a boutique that he was remodeling. I stopped by. He was absolutely sublime as a painter, shirtless, in overalls stained all over. I was totally crushing and he continued to respond and finally I threw myself at him with my usual subtlety. So, do you want to have sex with me? I asked. He was like Yeah. So I said What are you doing later? He said I don't have any plans. So I told him OK, well why don't you come over for some tea. He said, OK., around six. I gave him the entry code and I left.

  I headed back to my place (our place, since I was still with Quentin, we were living together), super stressed-out. I rolled a joint, and then I washed my ass for hours to make sure that there wouldn't be any problems even if he went deep. I didn't know what else to do to kill time, I didn't want to jerk off for obvious reasons, so I went to sleep. He arrived, showered and changed, into skin-tight jeans. Amazing thighs. His package didn't look especially huge from the outside. I made some tea making a superhuman effort to act casual. Since he was, I ended up calming down. We talked about people, about the gym. I kissed him in the kitchen. With tongue, taking each other in our arms. It was amazing. He was warm, not rushed, present. I told myself that in a certain way he reminded me of Quentin, just more human.

  I suggested that we have our tea in my room. We brought what we needed. I put on some house music. He lay down on the bed. I sat in a chair, super uptight. I poured some tea. Rolled a joint. We smoked it. I was still in the fucking chair. He smiled at me. He said Come here. I joined him on the bed. We kissed again, sitting cross-legged. Played a little with each other's nipples. I was getting hard, he wasn't. So I pulled his t-shirt off, and then I took mine off, and then I sat on the edge of the bed, I pulled his feet up on my knees, I untied his laces, I took off his boots, big hiking boots with red laces, all the rage that year. I pulled his tube socks off. He had small feet, wide, muscly, hairless. Thick toenails, well-trimmed. I put his feet back on the bed and I went to unbuckle his belt. I unbuttoned his 501s, grabbed his jeans by the side, he lifted his pelvis, I pulled them down. He had on tight briefs, the lycra kind, dark grey, beautiful thighs, toned but not super hard, the legs of a thirty-year-old man who took care of himself. I threw his jeans on the chair behind me and turned my attention back to him and what was left. I slipped off his dark grey underwear. Then I found the oversized treasure but kept my mouth shut, I didn't want to tip my hand.

  I just leaned in, and I swallowed all of his soft cock, which was already large enough to fill my mouth. It even took a couple of extra mouthfuls to get down to his base. I reached up looking for his (well-developed) nipples and just like that, under the soft and total absence of pressure I was exerting with my mouth, he started getting hard. I took my time so that h
e knew there wasn't any rush. While sucking him off I slid off my shoes and my jeans. Once he got hard he started stroking my head. I started sucking harder, meaning another half-inch past the head. I put my hand around the rest of his cock so that he'd feel something. He started playing with my nipples. That motivated me. I concentrated on taking it to the back of my throat while breathing through my nose. I started to drool a lot, I smashed my glottis with the tip.

  He started stroking my cock with one hand while caressing my head with the other. He lifted his head from the pillow. He sat up straight. He placed his hand on my shaved hole, he caressed it, I handed him some lube, he squeezed out a good amount, he knew what he was doing, he pressed two fingers in, progressively, as you should. I figured that made sense, given what I had to swallow later, that excited me, I jerked off hard and I was able to take his cock in my throat even deeper, I could tell that excited him, quickly I took a third finger and then a fourth and then he laid me down on my back and gave me a two-by-four: four fingers from both hands interlaced in my ass. I took some poppers, I looked at him, he was hard without touching himself, on my side I was getting really relaxed, so I decided that it was time to get serious and since I wanted to be in control at the start, given the size of his tool, I told him to lie down on his back, that I was going to sit on his cock.

  I sucked him a little more until he was hard enough for the condom, which wasn't easy given that he was now nine and a half (ten?) inches long and three inches wide. It totally took me a full minute to unroll it and even then it didn't reach the bottom, but the mood was hot and he wasn't going soft. I covered it all with a ton of lube while jerking him off. I took the thing in my left hand and held it up straight to sit on it taking my time, while jerking off with the lube and sniffing some poppers. I took in maybe the first eight inches, and then it got stuck. Exactly like with a big dildo, it was nothing too surprising. I pressed on but there was nothing to do.