Johan and I @ the beach… I swear !

I was standing at the reception desk of my internet provider, waiting for an answer as to why my connection had been down for the past forty-eight hours, when suddenly a creature unlike any I’ve ever seen appeared. None of the other customers present in the hallway seemed to be able to see it. It was a Cyclops of sorts, but with two eyes, which may seem kind of weird if you haven’t seen it yourself, yet know the basics of Greek mythology. And it was wearing a suit. It approached me, then all of a sudden opened its mouth wide enough to take a bite out of a sextuple cheeseburger and swallowed my head entirely. This is it, I thought, one bite and I’m gone. Instead, it started moving up and down, covering me with abundant saliva, which was dripping all over the rest of my body as if the thing were gagging me, for God’s sake. It felt odd, to say the least, as I had never experienced anything of the kind before. Was this a way for this creature to display its affection ? Was it going for my thoughts ? I am still unable to tell. After a while, though, I had enough : I pushed it away and left the building. “See ya”, I said.

Without an answer from my provider still, I went to the gym, feeling fit and gorgeous again. There I saw Johan. I don’t know his real name, I’m sorry. It must be Michal, Zdenek, Pavel or something. Anyway, he was looking sexier than ever. And believe me, I can tell. Not that I had met him in person before, except that one time in a Brussels nightclub when we made a brief yet intense eye-contact right after he fucked Julian (or is it Julien ?) on the counter, while Alex for some reason was showing me his wide-open (and I mean wide !) intimacy. But there are other ways…

Today, the stud was lying on the bench doing his push-ups, wearing only a male G-string. Chiseled and ripped as he is, you could see his perfect six-pack and his sweaty pocket-hunk pecs giving the best of themselves, as some lovely triangles were forming on the side of his cheeks with every new effort. When he saw me, he immediately stood up.

– Hey, you’re there… finally, he sighed. Weren’t we supposed to meet thirty minutes ago ?

– Were we ? Hmmm I guess we were. Is it too late ? I asked, as if in the confidence.

– Course not. Come on.

I don’t remember us taking any shower, or discussing the weather in the sauna for that matter. Next thing I know, we were on our way to Oostende, in my old Volkswagen Polo : they just never get out of fashion. E.T.A. : forty minutes, give or take. Another blackout ensued, and I found myself looking for a spot to park my car. I drove by two churches before entering an open-air parking lot, but found none available. I must have been driving around for another fifteen minutes before finally finding an empty spot at the end of a busy road which looked a lot like the Black-Virgin street, a street in Brussels where my hairdresser was located when I was a kid.

Johan and I stepped out of the car, walked a hundred meters or so, and decided to take a room at a local Campanile. I saw in his eyes the venue didn’t have much in common with what he was accustomed to, but he was courteous enough not to mention it. We went straight to room 41 (Is that important ?), and I immediately started to undress, revealing a rock-hard protuberance nourished by the idea of getting acquainted with one of the most suave yet utterly masculine stars who, whether they like it or not, have made my days recently. I mean, the guy is fucking perfect, or is he ? I still remember his cult scene in “Bareback Jizz Club” coming out a month or two after my first mad backroom experience, with a young black guy, as muscled as he is, equal to me inchwise, not much of a kisser, but proud owner of a compact little bubble rear that deserved worshipping : a revelation ! I think I’m something of a connoisseur in the area, but if you ask me what my favorite scene of all times is, that one is way above any other (except perhaps for Jay Renfro’s DP in “Feeding Hungry Holes”, Good Lord…). Talking about cherry-popping…

– (a voice in the background) Push it some more…

– (the new recruit) Pop !

– (the HR assistant) Yeees, I gotcha…

Going straight to the hotel wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, mind you : I wanted to take my loverboy to Rollers Beach, but night had fallen already, and the most pristine and romantic lagoon of the Oostende Castles headland area, which also happens to be one of Belgian young lovers’ best kept secrets, would have to wait until morning… or sunset.

rollers-beachAs far as he was concerned, Johan still had his clothes on, but he nonetheless came to me and gently grabbed my manhood, as American puritans would say, equally gently rubbing it forward and backward, as only non-martyrs can. I can’t remember it ever being that big. Actually, to be honest, I even think it’s improbable. But it felt so good, “gooood, yeah”, as Sancho, looking you in the eye, gasped during his memorable first audition.

Believe it or not, that’s precisely the time another blackout occurred. I AM FUCKING FED UP WITH THESE M****RFUCKING BLACKOUTS !!! I mean, imagine : there you are getting ready to literally fulfill one of your deepest desires, and one second later five hours have passed. Apparently, you get these several times a night. They’re called deep sleep sequences : you can’t remember a thing. And indeed, aside from my grandmother, who came to pick me up with one of my monstrous aunties because my car wouldn’t start, the only thing I remembered was waking up totally naked in an empty bed at 5 A.M., redefining morning glory. Only, my bed was standing in the hallway of my internet provider’s building, and outside, behind the large glass windows of the reception floor, two or three very young twinks – I think I recognized a smiling Matouze among them – were waiving their hands and upping their thumbs in appreciation. In front of me stood Johan, fully dressed.

– I’ve got to run an errand, he said.

– But you’ll be back, right ? I’d really like to show you Rollers Beach…

He just smiled. He never answered. I watched him grab Matouze by the pink hole, which the latter really seemed to be begging for, and vanish into thin air. In the background, I heard a melody. It took me three seconds to realize my phone was ringing…

– Allo, Monsieur Baele ? c’est Belgacom…

Man, did I need to piss…

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