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 who had "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 Six
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 Orleans
I had been looking forward to my first ever visit to New Orleans with its French history and 'ancestry'. I had a list of 'to do' things there as well: go dabble a toe in the Mississippi River; eat catfish; catch some live music and in fact, all happened rather quickly. I gave the toe dabble a miss once I saw and smelled the river; catfish ended up being not such a culinary experience (it tasted of mud) and there was live music on the streets.
I had been provided a choice of the Hyatt or an apartment and not sure why, but chose the Hyatt.
I already knew people in New Orleans who invited me for drinks and dinner at their home close to the St Louis Cathedral. It was such a magical area with all the laced ironwork and charming architecture and of course, their house was a classic example of the best. And then there was the southern charm and hospitality. Over pre-dinner drinks and the Pol Roger I had brought, I related my experiences with the toe-dabble that wasn't and the catfish tasting of mud. They laughed.
"People live dangerously here!" was the simple comment. Of course, Hurricane Katrina was many years off in the future.
Afterwards, I meandered back to the hotel as it was a balmy night and as I did, a car cruised to a halt beside me. Initially, I thought the young driver was lost and wanting directions and although there was not a lot of traffic, it wasn't exactly quiet and there was his accent, which threw me. I went close up to the window and did my best and most polite:
"Excuse me sir, I didn't hear you well."
And then I did understand the twang accent:
"I said I'd like to ride you all the way back to Baton Rouge!"
Momentarily, I was taken aback, this being the best pick up line ever. I burst out laughing. He obviously took that as a 'no' and with a disconcerted look on his face, up went the window and he drove off. I chuckled all the way back to the hotel.
After my sessions the next day, I was taken for drinks and dinner at a very classy restaurant near the river. It was classic New Orleans with gumbo, crab, fish and other exotica flowing liberally with beer and white wine. Afterwards, one of the coalition people offered to take me for drinks in the Quarter, which we did. It was bustling with movement and music. I decided to walk back to the hotel as it was not far and the streets were well lit and full of people. On a whim, however, I decided to call in at a bar on the way to have a nightcap as it was still quite early and my next event was not until the following night.
I can't remember the name of the bar at all but I went in and ordered a glass of white wine. It was a very large space and all pink and green although at that moment there were very few people and mostly older couples. It was very early still the barman explained. So, I found a comfortable seat by the window overlooking the street and began to thumb through a newspaper lying on the table. At one point I looked up and saw a young man walk in. Cute I thought to myself. He was quite compact with dirty blond hair, nice body, well-styled and dressed in jeans, loafers and a shirt with a pink sweater. His sweater matched the pink walls, aglow with subtle lighting. He bought a drink and then looked around. Our eyes met. I went back to my paper. Next moment he was standing right over me, smiling. I wondered for a moment if he had mistaken me for somebody. He hadn't.
"Hello," he said. I'm feeling lonesome and you look lonesome so I thought I'd come say hello."
He had no twang at all but a rather interesting almost English accent nonetheless. He turned out to be a Boston boy, which explained all.
I had a momentary thought of gall and presumption but he held out his hand and moreover, close up he was very easy on the eye.
"I'm Christopher and I attend Tulane."
I stood up and shook it.
"Hi Christopher, I'm Guillaume.
"I detect a slight accent, Guillaume?"
"Yes, Christopher. I'm French but really a citizen of the world."
"So, Guillaume, are you here on business?"
"In a way I guess. I'm doing some research presentations and classes here with the university coalition. Tulane is actually part of it."
He sat down, his knees almost touching mine and leaned forward. He had a nice sort of natural smell, not masked with aftershave.
"So, you're a visiting professor then?"
"I'm visiting and speaking but not as a professor, more as an expert on some rather obscure research stuff which would bore you to death so, I promise I won't bore you to death."
Christopher gave a whistle. Apart from that, he literally could not sit still and was definitely very forward in every way, like a lithe boxer on steroids.
"I have something very special in my pocket and was looking for a buddy to share it? You interested?"
I looked at him quizzically. It was a loaded statement, full of option and possibility and, open to much potential misunderstanding and assumption. I decided to play it cool but a bit cocky as well.
"So let me guess what you might have in your pocket. You are obviously not talking about your cock."
Immediately he shot back in a most intriguing way.
"Nah, my dick comes free with the deal."
I suddenly wondered if this kid was a male hooker and this was all part of the service choice and process for a prospective client. He drained his beer.
"You wanna split from here? I've got my car. You're staying where?"
I sized up the situation. My instincts told me he was cocky and presumptuous but nothing worse.
"The Hyatt."
"Cool, let's split then."
We left the bar and walked around the block to where Christopher's car was parked. It had seen better days and didn't quite match the persona coming across. He almost read my mind.
"The old girl gets me efficiently from A to B so I am not that worried about looks."
We drove to the Hyatt and Christopher found a legal parking spot literally right next to the hotel garage entrance. I found out he was 20 and studying law. On the short drive, he kept squeezing my knee. I couldn't decide if it was an unconscious action or a deliberate one. Christopher was incredibly physical and touchy-feely I was soon to discover. In the hotel lobby there was a huge tour group arriving and going through the check in process and, picking our way through the suitcases and other property was an obstacle course, just to reach the elevators.
Up on the 24th floor, the view of the city was splendid. Christopher immediately stripped down to nothing but his briefs. It was a totally un-self-conscious act. He had a really nice gymnast's body which complemented his cute looks and grey-blue eyes and although he wasn't hard, his cock was clearly huge as it already filled out his briefs completely. I opened us both a beer, kicked off my boat shoes and socks and took off my shirt while keeping my jeans. Christopher sat at the small glass table in the room, which had a couple of tub chairs and proceeded to retrieve a small zip purse from his jeans.
"Here we go baby."
He took out a small packet of white powder and tapped the contents onto the glass. Then, using a credit card, he started to chop and cut the powder into four lines. Being a total novice in the area of drugs, it was only this action which made me realise it was cocaine. Next he rolled up a dollar bill and proceeded to snort a line. So, this was what he wanted to share with a buddy
"Not good shit at all," he said, "Fucken weak as. They've cut it with something. No fucken wonder it was a good price."
He offered the dollar bill to me, however, I said:
"Look, Christopher, this is totally knew to me and I am happy for you to enjoy the fruits of your labours."
He shrugged.
"Suit yourself baby. It's not worth sharing anyway but I warn you, I am still gonna get fucken hot and horny and as I said, my dick comes free."
He snorted the rest of the lines and then leaned back with his beer. I watched as his already substantial bulge took flight and his cock pulsated to life. He extended his foot to my hard cock and started to foot massage me. His hand went under his briefs to his engorge cock.
"Get naked baby and come over here so I can suck your dick."
I obliged. This kid was an expert and what he did with his tongue, on and around my cock, balls and pucker, had me climbing the wall.
"Lie down of the bed baby, on your front. You've got a nice cock and a hot body. I wanna taste every bit of you."
He proceeded to lick me all over, starting at my feet, offering a breathless "Fucken hot, fucken hot" as a theme song while his tongue painted its magic upon me. I was so turned on. When he started to focus on my pucker, I thought I would pass out. His tongue snaked in and out of me like a trembling and flickering worm.
"Turn over baby."
I had become accustomed to his use of the word 'baby' for me. I opened my eyes briefly and hovering over me he gave a huge grin.
"So fucken hot. You're one hot fucker baby."
He kept up the theme song but I then saw his cock, freed from the confines of his briefs. It was indeed gigantic; a good 25cm and very thick with a distinctive curve to the right and beautifully circumcised. I would soon discover I couldn't get my hand around it.
Christopher then turned his attention to pleasuring my front with his amazing tongue, which was really long and incredibly prehensile. Between his ministrations on my body, he curled it up and literally tapped his nose with it. Little wonder he had me writhing with pleasure. And he sure knew how to suck cock. The other peculiarity was that every time I started to say something other than moan, he put a finger to my lips.
"Don't talk baby, just lie back and enjoy."
Between mouthfuls of my cock, he whispered:
"Where's the lube baby?"
"Bathroom," I struggled to say.
He bound off the bed and was back in an instant. With legs on both sides of my lower body, leveraged by his knees, Christopher proceeded to rub my wet cock back and forth with his ass crack, which had a light covering of hairs. It was intensely sensual.
"Close your eyes, baby."
Next moment he was lubing up my already very slick and wet cock and with no ceremony whatever, took my cock up to the hilt in his ass in one sudden move. I almost came in an instant. He leaned forward and began to tongue kiss me as he rocked back and forth on my cock. I reached for his huge cock, which was dribbling a steady stream of pre-cum onto my body. He took my hands and held them back over my head. Between deep tongue kisses, he started to lick and nuzzle my pits, mumbling how nice I smelled and tasted there. I only ever used a natural crystal wetted, as a deodorant and don't like aftershaves or fragrances. I lay there totally electrified thinking that wherever this kid learned his skills and whoever taught him, he was an absolute adept.
"Baby, no guy has ever been able to jerk me off. I can only come if I do it myself. My dick is weird. You don't need to worry." His words were fluid and breathless.
"Let me work your nips, then" I whispered.
His natural body smell also added to the intense mix of sensations.
I gathered some pre-cum off my body and began to massage his nips, using my thumbs and forefingers. He shuddered and moaned, almost breathless.
"That's so fucken hot baby and your cock inside me is just right. Open your eyes and look at me."
His face was alone was a turn on with its expressions of pleasure and lust. He was very cute and boyish but not in a pretty way; just very attractive and overtly sexual, physical. His eyes locked onto mine and never left them as his tongue and mouth animated his intense feelings. He began to jack his cock, needing two hands to encircle it completely. His breaths became amalgamated with hid increasing moans and gasps and by now, I was so utterly turned on I knew I was not going to be able to hold myself back much longer. Christopher realised.
"Let it go baby."
And he increased the pace, milking my cock and angling so it hit his prostate each downward thrust of his ass muscles. His hands were like a piston, pumping his huge cock. And then I did explode with shudders and tremors and moans, my entire body electrified and pulsing.
"Fucken hot baby; give it all to me!"
Then Christopher gave out a huge moan and suddenly I was being almost drowned in his cum. It gushed and flew. I had never seen anybody cum so much. My entire body almost, above the firing zone, was coated and glistening and the sensual odour of cum permeated the room. He grabbed my hands in his and held them tightly, head thrown back while he ground his ass on me, my cock still hard and impaling him deeply. He kept this up for a good 8 minutes of so. Then he eased off, kissed me and pulled me into the shower. We cleaned each other up and then almost started making out again.
He spooned against me all night. When I woke up, daylight was coming into the room. Christopher's back looked like a landscape and it was then I noticed he had a light but continuous coating of blond hairs, rather like deer antler velvet.
I got out of bed and took a pee and brushed my teeth and then crept back under the covers. Christopher stirred and leaned over to kiss me and then got up as well, his cock vertical against his belly. I sort of dozed off. I heard him brushing his teeth and the shower running briefly. He came back to bed still hard.
"I had to take a piss in the shower! This fucken dick is recharged and ready to go! You up for it baby?"
We did another stellar performance, mirroring almost exactly the previous night. Then we got up and showered. I took Christopher to breakfast where he opened up about his father and family. He was an only child whose mother had died when he was young and although very close to his dad, who was some corporate whizz in Boston, when he told his dad he was gay, it was still something needing processing.
"My dad keeps hoping I'll change; that this is just a phase; that I'll meet some nice girl and settle down to have babies. Baby, I'm telling you now, it ain't gonna happen!"
Christopher had a class later that day and so we walked to his car at the rear of the hotel. It refused to start. The joke of the day was that I asked the concierge if he could arrange a jumper lead start. He did so, using the hotel's Rolls Royce!
I had another couple of days in New Orleans and Christopher and I fucked twice on both days. As he was getting ready to leave on my last day and before I checked out to head to the airport he kissed and hugged me.
"Pity you can't stay baby. I could get used to this. I've had the best sex in my life with you."
I smiled.
"Well, Christopher, you have certainly taught me a lot about making love!"
"Baby, I wanted at the very least to make your stay in New Orleans memorable, unforgettable. I wanted you to associate New Orleans forever with me."
"No doubt whatever about that Christopher, I assure you."
We kissed and hugged.
"See you baby."
And then he was gone.
Epilogue:
In those days before the convenience of emails, posted letters were the means of communication. Christopher wrote one, long and beautifully sensual one and that was it. I never heard another word. I would send him cards on his birthday and did so for years. I wondered often if in fact he was still alive.