Lewis and le beau dom sans merci
Nexis Pas (nexispas@yahoo.co.uk) Copyright 2007 by the author
[A sort of sequel to 'Making Jeremy']
`Lewis, that is the third gigantic sigh to escape your firm yet pliant lips in the last minute. As a conversational technique, it is, shall we say, somewhat lacking in specifics. As much as I take pleasure in the sight of your well developed, muscular thorax rising and falling and admire the flatness of your taut abdomen, you cannot knock on my door, lounge on my chaise, issue a lugubrious complaint against the unfairness of life in general and then limit yourself to mournful susurrations that leave me ignorant of the cause of your melancholia. So tell me, why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale?'
`I had a date last night.'
`A date! Oh, Lewis, you didn't. Sometimes life is so ineffably cruel. A date? Is that one of those things where two people go out together and enjoy themselves and sometimes come home and enjoy themselves even more? It's been so long since I've had one I've forgotten the details. A date! You poor dear. That's terrible. How absolutely dreadful. Beyond appalling. The unspeakable horror of it all. My god, and I was being so flippant just now. I'm so sorry, Lewis, so very sorry. I abase myself in shame at my insensitive behaviour. Can you ever forgive me? No wonder you are so haggard and so woe-begone. Has the sedge withered from the lake? Do no birds sing?'
`Don't laugh. It's serious. I'm getting so discouraged.'
`I should be so discouraged. And don't look at me with the brown puppyish eyes. You know I can't resist you when you do that.'
`I'm miserable, and all you can do is make fun of me.'
`All right, Lewis. I really am sorry things aren't going well. And I'll try not to make fun of your life, even though from my date-starved perspective, you have little to complain about. Not that I'm whinging about my long bout of unwilling and enforced chastity, mind you. I've made my peace with that, even though I wouldn't mind a piece now and then before I . . . Okay, you're right, you're right. Enough is enough. I know I do go on once I get started, Lewis. From now on, I'll be serious and sympathetic, no matter how much that challenges my ability to restrain myself. Why don't you sit up, and I'll pour you a glass of wine, and you can tell me all about it.'
`Well, only if you want to hear about it. I don't want to take advantage of your friendship.'
`Lewis! I want to hear about it. After all this build-up, how could I not want to hear about it? Drink your wine and talk to me. Who was the date with? Do I know this person?'
`Freddy set me up on a date with Jean-Luc.'
`Jean-Luc, le Massif Central? Oh my god, he's gorgeous.'
`Hmmm. And Freddy assured me he was a top.'
`How could he be anything but a top? He's such a total stud. Although he does overdo the tight outfits a bit for my taste. I mean, one can see absolutely everything. No mystery about what he has on offer. And he'll catch pneumonia some day from wandering around without a shirt on. Brighton isn't Antibes. Oops, listen to me. I am going on again, aren't I? I'll be quiet, Lewis. Just tell your story. I'll shut up. I promise. Quiet as a mouse. That's me. Your basic church mouse. So what happened?'
`The evening started out fine. I met Freddy and Jake and Jean-Luc at the Mastiff and we had drinks. Jean-Luc and I danced a bit.'
`Is he a good dancer? He looks like he would be. I've never seen what he has below the belt but to judge from what's above it, the man can move.'
`Well, he did keep his tight T-shirt on while we were at the Mastiff. But you're right. It didn't leave anything to the imagination. And he can dance. He kept pulling me in close so that I could feel his body. There was one point when he put one of his thighs between mine and moved his leg up and down. It felt like I was being . . .'
`Are you all right, Lewis? Do you need a glass of water?'
`Let me catch my breath. I do apologise for getting carried away. The memory of his powerful thigh overwhelmed me for a second. I was vibrating so much when he did that. I don't know how he did it without making both of us fall over, but I felt like I was being ravished right there on the dance floor. Have you ever felt your whole body tingling?'
`Unfortunately, no. The rare tinglings I have experienced have been much more discrete in extent and confined to one or two body parts. But do go on. Don't stop making me feel totally deprived.'
`Afterwards he wouldn't take his hands off me. He put an arm around my shoulder. He kept stroking my legs. I thought everything was going so well. That finally I was going to get fucked. For years, I've been waiting for that day. And I thought, finally, here it is. And with Jean-Luc Lefort.'
`So what happened?'
`Well, the bartender called last drinks, and Jean-Luc asked if I wanted another drink. I said that wasn't what I was thirsty for. He gave me this smile and pinched me on the earlobe and told me that he would slake my thirst. He excused himself to take a piss and said he would be right back. He ordered me not to go away. I was practically incapable of speech by that point and just looked up at him in adoration. Freddy gave me this satisfied smile and said hadn't he guessed right, that the two of us would hit it off. I said yes and thanked him. But then he warned me that he had heard that sometimes Jean-Luc could be a bit rough. That he was a total top and very demanding. That he could go on for hours. I assured Freddy that that was exactly what I wanted. Indeed by that point, I would have endured anything he wanted to serve up.'
`Didn't he come back? Is that the problem? He deserted you?'
`No, he came back, and we said goodbye to Freddy and Jake. Freddy winked at me and told me to call him in the morning.'
`I don't understand the problem, Lewis. Did you and Jean-Luc not, how shall I put this, make it to the bedroom?'
`Oh, we made it to his bedroom. And everything was perfect. He wasn't rough, a little forceful, but not rough. Very masculine. Aggressive. And he is handsome. His legs are incredible. You've seen his torso, but the whole package nude is spectacular. He's a great kisser, and his hands drove me wild. He was everything I was hoping for.'
`Then, I don't understand what the problem is, Lewis. It sounds as though you had a terrific evening at the Mastiff with a wonderful man. He takes you home. You end up in bed. What went wrong?'
`Well, I'm lying on the bed. Jean-Luc is standing beside it. I'm looking up at him. He's hard. And it's the eighth wonder of the world. I'm gazing up past his cock, which from my viewpoint is centred right between those magnificent pecs, and I'm staring into his beautiful dark eyes. He smiles at me, licks his lips, and then his eyes wander down my body. I thought, finally I'm about to lose my virginity. At last, I will get ploughed. I had waited so long for that to happen. And that's when things went wrong.'
`Wrong?'
`I was excited by that point. I mean, who wouldn't be? And I watch him as he surveys my body. I could feel his eyes stroking me. Literally I could feel them looking at me. It was like this pressure on my skin. And then he reaches my groin, and his eyes widen and he gasps.'
`If half the rumours are true, Lewis, it is something to gasp over.'
`I don't know about that. All I know is that the sight changed Jean-Luc.'
`Changed?'
`Why does this always happen to me? Things are going great. I'm about to get laid, the guy is all primed to penetrate me. He's getting ready to put the condom on, and I'm certainly ready to take him. And then he sees my cock swollen to full size, and that's the last of that story. Jean-Luc sort of moaned when he saw the beast and then he broke out into a sweat. The man was quivering with passion. It was, quoth he, a stupendous sight.'
`He quothed?'
`He even quaffed me.'
`No, Lewis, no. Say it ain't so. Quivering, qouthing, and quaffing all in one evening.'
`It gets worse. The next thing I know, I'm inside Jean-Luc pumping away, and he's groaning. He had this ecstatic smile on his face. His mouth was open, and his eyes were screwed shut, and he was panting. Each time I thrust into him, he grunted. The longer I went on, the louder he groaned. He actually roared when I came.'
`He roared? The brute. How could he be so rude as to enjoy being fucked by you? You must have been miserable.'
`He more than enjoyed it. He used me twice to get himself off. He wouldn't let me alone all night. He was merciless, but so much for him being a top. I was exhausted by the time he was through. And totally unsatisfied. I'm still sore. I think he bruised me. And already today, he's left four messages on my phone machine and sent me three long emails. He wants to get together again tonight. He says he's never been torqued like that before.'
`Lewis, there are worse fates than being a good torquer. There are many people who would gladly exchange places with you if they could get Jean-Luc to quiver.'
`I know, but it just that I want to be the quiverer. Why is it so hard for me to find a top?
`I think it has something to do with your looks, Lewis.'
`But I'm so ordinary.'
`Not really, Lewis. I don't know how to put this delicately, but you definitely have a body that promises good torquing. It's mostly the way your arse swells and the height of the mounds and the depth of the crack between them. Of course, I've never seen them uncovered, but one imagines. Those shorts you wear during the summer are so revealing, Lewis. Plus there are all the testimonials from the string of satisfied men who have shamelessly taken advantage of you over the years. As one of them put it to me, you really know how to manoeuvre on the back stretch. You're a genius at knowing when and how to pace yourself, when to accelerate and when to put on the brakes. Your approach to the finish line leaves everyone cheering. And then there are those wonderful thick thighs of yours. Together with your buttocks they seem to say that you can deliver for a long time without tiring. That you can rotate your hips through a ninety-degree forward thrust and penetrate deeply time and time again, grind away, until one is satisfied and exhausted and overcome by your powerful loins. It's the image that comes to everyone's mind when they see you walking, Lewis. You know your rear is listed as one of the must-see sights of Brighton in all the gay guides. Is it true that you have a tuft of hair at the top of the crack? Every time I think of you, I get aroused, Lewis. The way your cheeks roll when you move and the swelling at the front and the curve of your buttocks and the legendary size of your . . .'
`Are you feeling all right? You're getting a bit red in the face.'
`Is it getting hot in here? Are you feeling hot? Maybe I should open a window or take off my shirt.'
`I'm fine. But you seem short of breath. Should you lie down?'
`Lewis, how long have we been friends? Five years?'
`About that.'
`And in all that time, you've never torqued me. Lewis, you're driving me insane. I want you to make me moan and groan and grunt and roar. Just once more into the breach, my dear friend. That's all I ask. And must you sigh like that?'