Guillaume Bacharene
bacharene@gmail.com
This story is a bit of fact and fiction although based on some key actual details. Some names have been changed for privacy protection purposes. The mixture of fact and fiction is what good writing is all about in my view. And, one has to write, above all, for the reader. A writer is an agent or channel to get the words right and tell a wonderful story to which readers can relate.
My romance with the US goes back to the early 1980s. While there are exceptions as there are all over the world, I was totally seduced by the general niceness of people and especially, the beautiful, confident and sexy men who were totally enthralled by my accent and my brain. But also, it was the genuine openness and way they expressed thoughts and feelings. I had never had my ego so exquisitely massaged the same way ever. So, I am 1.80m tall, worked out and had what others described as "model looks" to the extent that when I was doing my first masters degree I had been offered a modelling contract with a major fashion house in Paris. I thought about it all, the money and travel, but figured I had too many brains to be treated like a glorified clothes' horse and as some superficial entity with "the looks" but nothing else. Added to that was what I saw as bullshit "glamour". I turned it down to pursue an academic career instead.
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My US Lecture Tour and Master Classes - Part Four
It was 1983 and I was to have four weeks in the US doing a series of lectures and master classes based one some research I had done. It doesn't really matter what is was all about now but it was held to be extremely important. It was an offer that came out of nowhere really. Sometimes, the powers that be of the universe seem to have a plan for us. This was to be no exception. I was able to negotiate really generous terms with a week in Honolulu on the way and then sessions in San Francisco, Chicago, New York, Washington DC, New Orleans, Los Angeles and San Diego.
I indicated earlier about my first touch with America being the most amazingly good thing for one's ego. In each of these cities I was to have an experience, which could read like a romance novel. It was heady and all culminated some years later with me meeting the big love of my life, a beautiful American. After 30 years we are still together. But that's another complete story I might also tell one day!
New York City
My arrival in NYC was classic, the flight from Chicago doing a complete, banking circuit of Manhattan as all the buildings were lit up and the flight path to JFK was lined up. It was around 6:50pm and so dramatic. Although I still love Chicago more, NYC has a place within as well. So, I had been given an apartment for my stay, just off Fifth Avenue and being able to wake up to the Empire State Building was rather magical as well. NYC has a physical profile like no other city.
Of course, the bustle of NYC is an experience of itself. Being on the street with millions of others was an experience I had not had ever since Hong Kong in 1975. So, there was a vitality, a raw energy, which was palpable.
Although the kitchen of the apartment has been stocked with essentials and according to what I had requested, the first night I felt like going out and finding somewhere to eat just so I could tap into the pulsing vibrancy of the city. I ended up stumbling across a wonderful place called Caf‚ Un Deux Trois on 42nd Street and loved it. Not only was the food wonderful, the staff were beautiful and efficient and they had crayons on the table so those with the inclination could draw on the paper, which served as a tablecloth. Since I ended up going back every night I had free, I became quite famous and my drawings hot property. The manager would ply me with free Pol Roger in return so it was a good arrangement.
So, after a light dinner I decided to go walking down Fifth Avenue and explore others to get a sense of the place but also, not registering how much of Manhattan there was. So, after a good hour and having built up a thirst, a found a charming bar off on a side street and decided to get a Calistoga mineral water. There was a kind of enclosed and glassed alcove with a few small tables and chairs, allowing a good view of the street. Surprisingly there was nobody sitting there although the place was busy and packed. The Golden Girls, Madam and Church Lady figured variously on the TV and seemed to have an avid audience.
As I was sitting there and in a bit of a daydream a voice slightly off to my left said:
"Hello. I couldn't help noticing that you are totally alone and drinking a Calistoga too. Would you like some company?"
I looked up, perfectly happy to be alone, to see a young man of around 22, smiling broadly. He was dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket with a scarf in strangulation mode and looked incredible; extremely good-looking.
"Please feel free," I said and he pulled up a chair, leaning towards me and clinking his Calistoga against mine.
"I'm Will" he said "and I am pleased to meet you."
I held out my hand and responded,
"Hi Will, nice to meet you too; I'm Guillaume."
"Ooooh" he shot back, "fucken sexy name and that accent. Say the word baby and I'm yours!"
I was not expecting that and I blushed. I discovered that being direct and up front was a Will thing but it also applied to everybody I met in NYC! Indeed, on that occasion about five times I was directly propositioned in NYC in the most open and natural way. The most astounding was in Bloomingdales when a guy came up to me directly in the male sock section and said:
"Hi, my name's Chris. I think you are so cute. Wanna fuck?" My jaw dropped, Chris shrugged and walked off before I could even really answer and while I was still gathering in thoughts. Yep, that's NYC for you! It's the place of instant decision with no pussy foot stuff at all.
So Will and I spent a bit of time doing the "who, what, when, where from, how" getting to know you dance routine. But, it was all in his eyes. His eyes undressed you.
Will, it turned out, worked as a model with a famous agency and was from Iowa. He pulled his promo display card out of his shoulder bag and signed it, handing it over. It was like a post card but about half as long again with shots of Will revealing his best attributes and personal details including height: 6 ft. 2 inches; eyes, green; hair, brown/black. Mostly the work was fashion and as he chatted about the details of his model life, I realised my worst ever fears were borne out with each revelation. Will also was attending art school. So, we had quite a lot in common. Since the tables were actually really small, by leaning forward, Will and I ended up less than 25cm apart and not only that, since he was taller, our knees were touching. Will kept rocking his knees with mine between and so the encounter was taking on a really charged direction. I couldn't figure out if this was a direct action thing on Will's part or some unconscious kind of "body tic" thing.
But, I had a good chance to see Will in true close-up and, it was a beautiful sight. He had lovely green eyes, incredibly long lashes, flawless skin, a really cute smile, kissable lips and the All-American dazzling white teeth, the whole within a square jaw with a chin dimple and set beneath a wild profusion of brown-black hair through which he kept raking his fingers. He oozed easy and confident sexuality. When he took off his jacket, I could see how well muscled he was but no overtly so. As we talked, it was rather as if we had been friends forever; it was all so natural and easy. As we chatted away, Will reached out and grasped my chin dimple with his thumb and forefinger, giving it a good tweak and a jiggle.
"You've got one too, Guillaume." He moved even closer and I would not have been surprised had he actually kissed me. It was all becoming intensely erotic and physical.
"Hey Guillaume, I've got an idea: my place is not far away and, on a recent job I was given this Mumm vintage champagne. Would you like to help demolish it?"
Champagne again and Mumm vintage was nothing to disappoint. Before I could answer, Will said:
"Unless of course you are hoping for a better offer, Guillaume."
I laughed. And replied,
"Well, Will, looks like you are stuck with me. I don't see any other offers coming up let alone any better one!" The Golden Girls, Madam and Church Lady held sway and attention.
Will leaned forward and gave me a little peck on both cheeks.
"The French do that don't they Guillaume?"
"Will, it is as French as croissants, baguettes and pain au chocolat," I replied.
We went out into the street and cooler night air. Will looped his arm protectively through mine and led me off. His apartment was about 6 minutes away and tiny but well set up. It was also extremely hot. I took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves. Will simply took of everything, including shoes and socks, leaving only his jeans. It was a totally unstudied and unself-conscious move.
Will's paintings and drawings were everywhere. Some were very good although others were a bit surreal, which is not exactly my thing. We talked about it all as he set out two flutes and did the Mumm vintage, using a small cloth to ease out the cork.
Of course, the Mumm had become a bit of a sideshow to Will's body. While he wasn't all highly defined and bulky muscle, he looked incredible with a light covering of dark hair on his pectorals and a treasure trail with interesting growth patterns which seemed to say, 'start here and follow through to find treasure.'
I was sitting on a modern and very comfortable sofa upholstered in a bright turquoise blue. Will moved a small table over in front of me and poured the Mumm, handing me a flute. Then he sat down right beside me, undoing the top button of his jeans and popping all the buttons beyond as well. I can't remember the Levi's model number but I had some as well although not on that particular night. The band of his underwear and the white flash below were hard to ignore. They made his treasure trail even more erotic and arousing.
"That's better," he sighed as we clinked flutes "I'm getting all too cramped down there."
We drank the first round and then Will refilled. Next thing, he reached over and took my hand, and cupping his around mine, began to use it to rub his crotch. His cock was already hard. Mine was too but that was incidental. Then Will, still cupping my hand with his, lifted up the band of his underwear and carried my hand to his hard cock and balls, at once all smooth and silken; hot and moist. He leaned over and began to nuzzle my shoulder and, as he began to kiss and lick under my ear, with his free hand unbuttoned my shirt, disengaging it from my jeans. I angled my head and he kissed me, his soft tongue probing my lips. Then he stood up, moved the table and Mumm aside and pulled me to my feet. He began to kiss me hungrily and passionately as he removed my shirt completely and then undid my jeans button, pushing down the 501 zipper. Then, in a slow motion movement, using his tongue, he slid down my body, tracing a trail of passion and with a continual, fluid movement, my jeans and briefs were quickly down around my ankles. My cock stuck straight up once released, slapping my belly as it found open-air freedom to move. I kicked off my shoes. Will did my socks and while he kept sucking my cock, together we worked until I was wearing nothing. Then we did the same for Will. Kissing me continuously, Will somehow walked me backwards into his bedroom and bed. He slept French-style with a base sheet and quilt. With the quilt in a heap on the floor, we had a fitting stage for our conjoint performance.
Will lay down and pulled me on top of him, our bodies meshing well. Then as we kissed (he was one of the best kissers ever) he began to grind his crotch and cock into mine. With us both leaking pre-cum, it felt almost as if I was fucking him and indeed, it was both a new experience and very much a turn on. Will was an expert hip and crotch grinder as it turned out and I never met anybody thereafter who had the same level of expertise in that department. We both knew we were reaching a threshold. He could sense me and I him. He increased the pace and urgency and as I shuddered, moaned and began to cum, so did Will. Even then he kept going, holding me tightly against him, our cum making this intense squishing sound; totally sensual and erotic.
After about 5 minutes, Will rolled me onto my back and began to lick up our combined cum off my body. He used his lips gently to comb my pubes, sort of vacuuming up what had ended up there. My cock had softened but with Will cleaning me up and making sure every last bit was claimed from inside my cock as well, I got hard again. I shimmied around and while Will continued on me, I did the same to him. Our cum perfumed the entire space.
Since Will's shower was tiny and barely enough for one, we both showered separately and he brought the Mumm into the bedroom. It was soon gone.
We spooned the rest of the night although Will had a photo shoot job with an early start across town so we left his apartment around 6:30am having arranged that he would come to where I was staying and I would cook dinner. He expected his job to be over around 4:00pm. In the end, he buzzed in around 4:20pm, nonchalantly carrying a bottle of red wine by the neck, as if it were a baseball bat. I took it from him and did a double take while my jaw fell on the floor: it was Chƒteau P‚trus 1961.
"Will, where on earth did you get this? This is one of the best vintages ever. You'd pay thousands of dollars for this!" I was totally stunned.
"My uncle gave it to me for my 21st birthday. He is a real connoisseur. He said it was special and to look after it but you are saying it's really special Guillaume?"
"Well, I know that the 1945, 1947, 1959 and 1961 vintages are all classed as the best ever so really, I am so glad I decided to go all out and cook something really perfect to match it: boeuf bourguignon, seared garlic potatoes, honeyed carrots with nutmeg and cardamom and a green salad. Dessert, caramelised apple crˆpes."
Will let out a whistle. I hugged him and he kissed me on the forehead.
"Wow, this is a really nice place," he said, looking around. "And a view of the Empire State too."
It was indeed, on the 27th floor and with very classy appointments. I had been setting the table when Will arrived and had found a whole selection of Riedel stemware. I thought as I looked for the right ones how magical it all was: one of the world's best wines in the world's best stemware.
"Well, Will, we certainly have the best glasses for this champion wine from Pomerol! It has to be worshipped appropriately!"
Will opened it carefully then kicked off his shoes padded about, checking the books. I noticed he moved like a Panther, smooth and lithe. He had on jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, which showed off his nice arms and a small, gold St Christopher medallion, worn high and tight, which emphasised his neck. I looked at him and smiled. He cocked his head.
"And.........?"
"I was just thinking how handsome, nay beautiful and sexy you look tonight. I am getting hard just looking. How did your assignment go though?" Will screwed up his nose as if I had caught him out and then blew me a kiss.
"Pretty good. I just accept that I am a glorified clothes' horse whom they primp and preen. Frankly, I am in it for the money; nothing else. And, it is not a long-term career. As soon as your look is not what they want or you get a zit, you get cast aside. There's no fucken romance and glamour about it all. So, they use me, I use them. It's a mutually acceptable arrangement while it lasts."
He did a thumbs up. I related to him how I had been offered a modelling contract in Paris with a major fashion house and turned it down for that very reason, at least in part.
"Hmmmmm. I can see why. You're one hot fucken dude. I had a boner the moment I saw you. And you know, I am really not a sexual person."
"That's sweet Will," I said I do my best with what I have got! But, who are you kidding about not being a sexual person? You sure as hell fool me!"
Will looked at me and grinned.
"Well, it's just that I'd not met you before, Guillaume!"
I looked at him quizzically.
"You are such a charmer; charm on two legs, Will." He kissed me.
"Yeah well. In life we have these events which can change everything very suddenly." Will looked serious.
I fixed his eyes again and smiled wondering if I had changed something.
"You fancy a pre-dinner drink, Will? I'm thinking a gin and tonic." The university coalition group hosting me there had stocked the bar really well and they had Bombay Sapphire. Although they had Veuve Cliquot as well, I had found a market and bought some Pol Roger. It had become a lucky star for me this trip and seemed to create possibilities everywhere, not that the Veuve would go to waste.
"Sure Guillaume. My Dad's fave. I do make a mean G&T."
"OK, Will, do your thing with it!"
I pushed the Bombay across the counter and got some tonic from the refridgerator along with a lemon and a peeler and ice from the auto dispenser.
"Will, just to let you know, I prefer a G&T with a curl of lemon peel and not a wedge or a slice."
"Just like my Dad! You are so fucken classy Guillaume."
The slow-cooked boeuf bourguignon was filling the apartment with a delicious aroma and the thought of the P‚trus and Will was getting me seriously turned on. I changed the subject.
"Tell me about your parents. You obviously love your Dad. And your Mom? Brothers? Sisters?"
We clinked G&Ts and sat on the sofa. Will put his arm around me in a really Will way; a sort of protective thing.
"Well, Guillaume, you are right about my Dad. We are best buddies really. He's an executive with an oil company. He never once has criticised anything about me or what I do. He is always supportive. My Mom......" His voice trailed off.
"My Mom had miscarriages before and after me and it affected her in so many ways. So, that answers a couple of questions. I am an only son but Mom had some challenges, psychologically. Mom is just Mom and we deal with it. It is a bit of a roller coaster ride I'm afraid; a bit unpredictable but she gets the best doctors and when my Dad is away on business, the live-in housekeeper, Maria, makes sure Mom takes her medicine. Maria is really brilliant and respectful and my Mom listens to her."
I nodded in understanding.
" I know you will make them both proud, Will." Will squeezed my shoulder.
We decided to eat around 7:30pm and so I cooked and prepared the other menu items with that in mind. I suggested that Will check the table and make any changes he thought were needed as a mark of respect to the P‚trus. He stood up and did a careful inspection, repositioning flatware here and there and aligned things a bit more precisely. He made another G&T for us both.
The apartment had a Toshiba CD player, one of the very first, and a selection of CDs. I chose the sound track of "Chariots of Fire" which I always found uplifting. It was already significant in my life. It was also the first CD I bought. Thereafter it was Schumann, Brahms and Mozart, who caressed the menu and later, a bit of Rachmaninov with cognac.
He laughed.
"Talk about fucken domestic bliss."
Well, dinner was a triumph. Ceremoniously, Will poured the P‚trus and I got to taste it. It was of course incredible. I remembered that once in Borabora in 1967, a host family I had there for a week as a student, had this amazing, secret wine cellar. My first night there. M. Henri (another) had opened a 1918 Chƒteau Margaux. The P‚trus was in the same league.
So, my first taste of the P‚trus invited Will to taste and then come around and kiss me. It was my first and only ever "baiser P‚trus". I said it to Will in French and then explained. 'Baiser' in French means to kiss but it can also mean to fuck. Will chuckled and in his best French accent said:
"Well, Guillaume, that's on the menu too! I said I am not very sexual but things have changed. But, if that's the case, how the heck do you know what the meaning intended actually is?"
It was a very interesting question. I thought for a moment and explained:
"The whole French system, language and educational structure is based on learning contexts and variance. It is a naturally polite language unless you want to be the opposite, in which case it can be devastatingly brutal. But, that is why French was always the language of diplomacy." Will nodded.
"With you it's like talking to an encyclopaedia, Guillaume."
I took it as a compliment and smiled.
"In France we study philosophy at school. I think it creates better, more rounded, thinking people. We have intellectual challenges posed from the very start. Of course, not all of us survive!"
Will tipped his glass.
"I can see that Guillaume. You're fucken amazing."
After dinner we cleared everything away. We were both feeling great and certainly, the affects of the alcohol celebration had rendered us both very relaxed. Will snuggled up as we sipped cognac and did the treasure hunt with the Belgian chocolate selection. Will held me close and kissed my brow. I loved that about him. For a non-sexual person, he was wonderfully affectionate. I put it into words.
"You know what Will, for a non-sexual person you are amazing but, my view is this: what you think and do in this department are quite different. You are incredibly sexual to me. I love it. Is it all my fault?"
Wills response was to kiss me deeply with his tongue. His cock was straining and so was mine.
"Let's go to bed," he said, a sense of urgency rising in his voice. So we took a shower together and brushed teeth. When I entered the bedroom, Will had pared the bed right back to the bare essentials and was laying back, spinning a tube of lube in his fingers, rather like a magician's act. The tube seemed to move without stopping and was totally hypnotic. Will patted the bed.
"Lie down and close your eyes. I don't want you to do anything. Just enjoy the ride."
I got comfortable. Will stretched my arms right back over my head and holding them in place, proceeded to lick my pits, then my nipples then up my neck to my earlobes, ear holes, eyes and lips. I thought my cock would explode without a single touch. His cock in turn brushed my thigh, my hip, leaving a trail of wetness. My own cock was drooling too. Will noticed and licked around the head. Next he straddled my upper thighs and a chilled wetness enveloped my cock. I shuddered and moaned.
"This, Guillaume is your P‚trus and Will 'baiser'. Will had a good ear and he pronounced 'baiser' perfectly.
Will shifted his weight and then I felt my cock being manipulated by his hand as he gently rubbed the tip around his pucker and then in a fluid and gentle movement, I was buried to the hilt in his ass. Using his ass muscles, he began to massage my cock, almost without moving: it was all muscle contractions and little jiggles. His thighs contracted and relaxed as they massaged my sides. It felt like the hordes of Lilliput were doing their collective magic. Then Will leaned forward. I held him in my arms, massaging his back and neck as he started to rock back and forth; side to side, the sensations sending me into absolute ecstasy. It was certainly the most elegant and dignified fuck I had ever had. Will started whispering:
"Baiser Will, baiser P‚trus; baiser Will, baiser P‚trus; baiser Will, baiser P‚trus; baiser Will, baiser P‚trus," all the while increasing the tempo.
I reached for his cock and without missing his rhythm, he handed me the lube. Will's erect cock was like a steel rod and so hard. As I lubed him up and started jerking his cock, I could feel its veins like hard little strings. It was then I realised he had a tight cock ring on. With my other hand I tweaked his nipples hard like nails beneath my insistent fingers. Will started to moan, louder and louder, turning me on more and more. I could feel my point of no return was getting ever closer by the millisecond and then with a loud gasp and tremor, Will's cum flew over me, up to my hair and eyes. At that moment, with Will's talented ass, I came as well, Will's ass milking me in a long series of tight squeeze and drag manoeuvres. He collapsed upon me breathing heavily and moaning softly. He nuzzled my neck and I caressed his back with my fingertips, making him shudder and moan. My softening cock slipped out of him and we had another shower.
Next evening, Will went to have dinner with his Dad and so I found an Abyssinian Restaurant as part of the exotic offerings of NYC. Caf‚ Un Deux Trois had a private booking that night. Afterwards, I strolled back along Fifth Avenue. As I did, I huge black limousine cruised to a halt about 10m in front of me. The window went down and a voice said something, which was swallowed up in the general bustle and noise. I had no idea it was addressing me. I drew level.
"Yes you with the hot ass." I looked around. A young guy was partly out of the window of the limo.
"You Buddy for chrissakes! I'm talking to you!"
I pointed to myself!
"Jeez! And so, Buddy, what are we doing tonight?"
I then figured that this was a pickup line, as weird and as new as it all was as an experience. I got into character.
"Well, we have been to dinner and now we are going home to bed."
There was a pause.
"Oh, so you're not American are you?"
"Non, mon petit mec, je suis fran‡ais." - No dude, I am French.
There was a stunned silence as if I had winded him.
"Oh, we're not into Frenchmen tonight!"
Up went the window and the limo moved off. I stood there laughing.
"Never a dull moment in NYC," I said out loud to myself. Nobody around had taken any notice. In NYC, everything and anything was normal.
Next evening I took Will to Caf‚ Un Deux Trois and we did a conjoint drawing. The staff and manager went crazy. Actually, the manager whose name was Louis, spoke French I had discovered as he had worked in Geneva, Paris, Mauritius, Tahiti and New Caledonia. He explained:
"Normally we just get doodles and kiddie-type things. You guys are professionals." He went and got a complete bottle of Pol Roger and an ice bucket and stand. He then gestured towards a side wall. All my previous drawings were in beautiful frames! He winked.
"Alors, messieurs, ce soir tous les boissons sont gratuits!" - Well gentlemen, this evening all drinks are on us!
It was magical. He poured the Pol Roger and looked me in the eye.
"Alors monsieur Guillaume, c'est votre copain? Si oui, votre couple est impeccable!" - So M. Guillaume, is this your boyfriend? If so you make a gorgeous couple!"
Will was in a playful mood and the Pol Roger added to the occasion. I had two more nights to go. After dinner we went back to my apartment and opened another Pol Roger. Sexually, I had learned that Will loved me to fuck him and that became the centre of his universe. My fucking Will was thus the centrepiece of all our sexual adventures, with all the rest as appetisers.
"I have decided, Guillaume, that I am not going to let myself fall in love with you."
I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. Will continued:
"No. In a few days you will be off and I'm afraid I will never see you again."
The playful Will was suddenly very serious and rather dark. I thought to myself that this all needed careful handling.
"Will, all things being equal, are you implying that you'd like to see me again?"
"Of course I would but perhaps I won't. You float around the world and probably have another Will everywhere you go or at least can find one."
I wondered if it was the Pol Roger talking.
"Listen to me Will, meeting you has been wonderful and unexpected and of course I would love to see you again, to see where things might go, to explore what might be possible. And heck, who could ever compete with you and P‚trus?"
Will relaxed. He smiled.
"Yeah, fucken amazing, and I'm sorry Guillaume. I am feeling a bit sorry for myself and soon you will be gone. I could get so used to all of this. I only have two other close friends."
I kissed him on the brow.
That night in bed, Will wanted me to fuck him hard as he lay on his front. I spread a large bath towel down as I knew that just through my fucking him, Will would blow a load as my cock gave his prostate deep and persistent massage. We fucked a good 30 minutes, Will moaning and writhing, going into octopus contortions. Next morning, I fucked him again, his legs over my shoulders. He again shot his load without any touch on his cock whatever. My last days in NYC were like that. I fucked Will two to three times a day as if he were laying in memory supplies.
The night before I left, I cooked us dinner. The university had given me a nice bottle of Chƒteau Palmer. I had expected Will to be a bit morose but he was not at all. By then I had figured that there was certainly something going on in his head. It was only afterwards I discovered, via a letter from Will, that he did drugs on the side, especially cocaine.
Over dinner Will said:
"I'm coming to see you off at JFK. I really want to be sure you are leaving!"
On one level it was an odd statement but then it was also very Will. We fucked that night and in the morning and then it was a matter of packing and getting ready. Will was very bubbly and chatty.
At JFK, as my flight was called, I teared up. I had developed a sense of dread for Will. He gave me a huge hug, kissed me on both cheeks and then turned and left, never looking back.
Epilogue:
Will and I eventually lost contact as he moved around and tried to get his life together. Once he discovered the pleasures and devils of cocaine, he ended up with many issues to deal with in his life and I feel that being part of the whole self-centred modelling scene was in so many ways responsible with its drugs and bullshit glamour and plastic world of absolute unreality and fleeting moments. It was tragic really. He was also a talented painter.