I lay him down on the bed. His olive skin glistens. He has just a tasteful fringe of pubic hair. His cock responds warmly to the fondling of my hand, I cup his tight balls, then I dip my head, take the perfect heart-shaped cockhead in my mouth and luxuriate in sucking him. His cock tastes slightly musky with just a trace of pool chlorine. It swells delightfully as I use my lips and tongue on his sensitive arousal, he moans and his hips undulate in little fucking-motions of unfeigned pleasure.
I’ve always loved giving oral, and doing it in such a detached constraint-free way to such a perfectly proportioned well-hung rampant boy is a joy. He groans and pulses a rich mouthful of spunk, as I suck him more lustily, massaging his balls to stimulate more, enjoying the way he squirms in orgasm. Then I lie on my back on the bed and he moves around quickly without being told and performs on me, seeming only too eager to suck me deep into his throat. He looks up at me, smiling mischievously, trickles on my spunk dribbling down his chin. I reach down and ruffle his hair affectionately.
We lie together afterwards. I fondle his beautiful cock. ‘What is your name?’
He looks this way and that, as though fearing he will be overheard. ‘We aren’t supposed to use our real names here. The others are called Boy-Toy, Deep-Throat, Butt-Boy, or Fuck-Bunny. They call me Squirm.’
I laugh, ‘why Squirm?’
His expression is delightfully bashful. ‘Because of the way I move when I’m being fucked’ he whispers. ‘My real name is… Tariq.’
He does have a particularly delectable pear-shaped bottom, smooth and girlishly rounded, so later I can’t resist taking him anally, doggy-style, nuzzling my lubed cockhead into the tight rosebud orifice, then, once I’m through the slight sphincter resistance and sliding deep into the softness of his receptive anus he moans with every appearance of genuine pleasure. His anal muscles give my cock a welcoming squeeze that almost has me cumming instantly, but I hold inside him as he forces himself back onto me. And yes, I love the way he squirms appreciatively as I fuck him. It turns me on so much I get him to fuck me too, and he is exquisite. For latex to spoil such a luscious fuck would have been a crime against nature.
Again we lie together as moistures cool across our naked skin. ‘Do you like it here?’ I ask him. ‘Do you resent having sex with mostly middle-aged physically unimpressive men?’
‘I will not be here forever’ he admits carefully. ‘This provides my way to residency in the European Union. But — yes. In the village I come from, having sex with another man is forbidden. There are cruel and horrible punishments. Because of the way I am, I was forever afraid of my urges being found out. Here, I can have all the sex I want and need freely, without guilt or fear. This is a good place to be. Those middle-aged men you speak of, they keep me alive. They don’t need me. They could afford to have any boy they want to suck their cocks. But I need them. They don’t have to spunk-off down my throat. It is simply my good fortune that they do, and when they allow me the opportunity to prove myself, I’m not going to fail them. Some of the men are rough, and I enjoy rough, but I do like being with you, you are a good man.’ He whispers the last words almost coyly.
He stays the night, our limbs entangled beneath the single thin sheet. As dawn breaks I watch as he goes into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar sufficient for me to see that he is just as desirable taking a piss.
All cocksuckers taste a little piss once in a while. It’s part of the job description, when he returns to bed there’s a pearly droplet of urine glistening on the tip of his lovely cock. Well… what more can a poor cocksucker do, but lick it clean, enjoying the sharp tangy bouquet… later I sit out on the balcony as the sun rises over the lake, and I enjoy eating breakfast while he crouches beneath the table to suck me long and slow. I finish by wanking him into my orange juice and drinking it down.
As I’ve discovered to my great joy, Signore Marinetti’s boys are all keen, enthusiastic. Failure to comply is never a consideration. Cock-worship and respect are very basic requirements. Just as cum-swallowing is a very basic requirement… as ‘Squirm’ explains to me, punishment is never necessary, they’re aware that failure to achieve the required level of sexual complicity could lead to their being sent home, which is far too much of a disgrace to even consider. So they’re all eager to demonstrate their skills.
Boys tend to stay for between four to six months, after which they will be relocated. So there are always new boys, new talents, new cocks. Some are better or prettier than others. And naturally, among guests, there is always the attraction of trying out the latest boys, and keen competition for a particular boy’s especial talent. His big cock. His sucking skills. His pretty rounded arse. A promising new talent can be expected to be passed around between men, and called upon to show off his unique abilities many times. No holding back, no shyness, no reticence.
‘For some men, we fuck because we must’ Squirm tells me, looking directly into my eyes, ‘for you, sir, I fuck because it is my pleasure to be fucked by you.’
‘I only regret that I have but one cock to give for your satisfaction’ I tell him.
He smiles in an attractively surly way, with deep brown eyes that lay me bare and penetrate my soul. I smile back and ruffle his hair.
Taking such beautiful memories of blissful eroticism with me on my flight to London, the slight tenderness in my throat is a delightful reminder of the joy we shared. I hope other men get many more opportunities to enjoy Squirm’s tasty cock. On my way home I accept an invitation to stay over in the Georgian honey-hued Belgravia crescent apartment owned by a Gay writer, Rob, and his quietly personable civil partner, Jay. At first we talk about different literary aspects of writing and grumbles about publishers. The couple had recently enjoyed holidaying on the Greek island of Rhodes and they’d brought a generous bottle of ouzo home with them. As the evening progresses, the more we drink glasses of ouzo, the more our conversation becomes increasingly flirtatious.
I tell them in prurient detail about my encounter with the writer in Lyon.
‘That must have been such a comfort and a joy for the literary gentleman’ laughs Rob with camp exaggeration. ‘You are to be commended for your charity work, Tristan.’
‘I’m jealous of you already’ sniggers Jay mock-bitchily. ‘I hope he fucked your throat raw and near-choked you with cum…’
‘No-one ever needed to force me to suck cock!’ I smile back. ‘It’s always a pleasure. Why pretend to deny yourself? I do believe that we in England should make every effort to encourage international cooperation. And if that means sucking off French writer’s cocks by way of Euro-fraternity and entente cordiale, well, that’s the very least we can do…’
‘And undressing a man in your mind is never quite as good as undressing a man in a hotel room, and going down on him…’ adds Jay smirking.