CityBoyz

by Henri Couesnon

  “I’ll think about it,” Remi promised—really, only because he wanted to end the discussion and make his exit, while he could still do so, while maintaining some degree of dignity and self-respect.

  “Do. I’m serious,” Guiche insisted.

  They parted at Guiche’s front door. There, they embraced and kissed. While his mouth pressed itself, passionately, hungrily, against Guiche’s, Remi’s hands roamed over the other guy’s bare shoulders and back, savoring the feel of his warm flesh.

  If only he wasn’t a whore, Remi thought. If only he was just a regular guy, who wanted to trick with me, who wanted a return engagement!

  Remi wanted to rip those sweatpants right off Guiche and rape his naked body. He wanted them to repeat everything they’d already done together. But, restraining himself with an effort, Remi pulled himself away from the other man.

  “I’ll call you,” he gasped.

  “Please do,” Guiche said. “Looking forward to it—you pretty boy,” he added, with a droll, teasing look on his face and a matching inflection in his tone of voice.

  Remi left, in a sex-befuddled daze.

  Already, during the bus ride home, he was reliving the experience in his memory. In his imagination, he replayed the mad erotic abandon which Guiche had displayed—especially while Remi was fucking him.

  Had Guiche been faking it—pretending to be so aroused, just to string Remi along and win him as one of his regular customers? Remi didn’t think so. No one could be that good an actor!

  Remi had to confide in someone. Within a few days, he chose Maxim, who was, after all, the most sophisticated and worldly gay man Remi knew. One night at the bar, during a moment when business slowed a bit, he told Maxim everything.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Maxim exclaimed. “Could you be any more stupid?”

  “He’s hot,” Remi said, in his own defense.

  “So is a hot stovetop, which can burn you just as efficiently. Shit, Remi! Hundreds of guys here in Montréal are hot. You had to pick the one who’s a whore? And the one who’s also already asking you to be a whore, too, for him to exploit?”

  “It’s just sex,” Remi claimed, defiantly. “Hell, I’ve been giving it away for free. Why shouldn’t I start charging for it?”

  “Because you’re better than that.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “You want to end up like that guy Guiche?”

  “How’s he ended up?”

  “With a bad reputation—a terrible reputation,” Maxim insisted.

  “Says you.”

  “Says everybody, who knows him.”

  “They exaggerate. They lie. Anyway, plenty of guys seem to like him. His clientele, for example.”

  “His ‘clientele!’ That’s one word for it. The bunch of horny, desperate men whom he takes advantage of—that’s another way to describe them.”

  “I never thought you, Maxim, of all people, could be such a prude.”

  “I have certain standards, that’s all. They may be damn low, but at least I have them.”

  “Well, maybe my standards are even lower than yours,” Remi joked.

  “Ah, there’s no use talking to you, is there, Remi? You’re hung up on this fucking dude, this cheap little hustler. You’re determined to go to hell in a handbasket. Well, you damn fool, when you end up there, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I won’t say a word of reproach,” Remi said, defiantly. “As long as you agree to do—I mean, not to do—the same. Deal?”

  “Deal. You asshole,” Maxim muttered, by way of a parting shot.

  The next afternoon, Remi called Guiche.

  “When I can see you?” Remi asked.

  “Are we talking about you seeing me professionally, or personally?”

  “Personally. I don’t want to be just another one of your paying johns. I want to be—”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. Your boyfriend. Your fuck buddy. What role, if any, is available, dude? You tell me.”

  “My partner in crime?” Guiche asked, smugly.

  “I don’t know about that. You and I—we’re going to have to talk about that,” Remi said, cautiously.

  “When?”

  “Whenever you’re free. Let’s be clear, though. I’m talking about seeing you. Not paying you,” Remi specified.

  “Understood. Cheapskate! But let me check my calendar. Ah—I can fit you in on Saturday afternoon, if you like.”

  “Fit me in?” Remi experienced a surge of jealousy. “What—in between your tricks?”

  “When I’m free,” Guiche said, coolly. “Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it, then.”

  “Good. I’ll see you on Saturday, then. Here at my place. Any time after noon.”

  Whore! Remi wanted to shout. You whore! Sure, on Saturday, after noon—after you’re done with your Saturday morning john! You probably have more than one of them scheduled. Got them stacked up, I bet, one right after another!

  But he bit his lip. All he said was, “See you then.”

  From then until Saturday, Remi’s pride fought with his lust. He told himself that he’d be stupid to give in to his desires, and go see Guiche. But he also told himself that he’d be foolish to deny himself the pleasure of hooking up again with the seductive other man. Torn, conflicted, he debated. Not too surprisingly, lust won out. He didn’t care. He had to be with Guiche again! Whether they went to bed, or not!

  Shamefacedly, he showed up on Guiche’s doorstep, early on Saturday afternoon.

  Guiche was half naked, wearing only that same pair of sweatpants, when he opened his apartment door. “Come in,” he urged Remi. “Get naked. Come into my bedroom. Let’s do it. Let’s fuck—!”

  “Not so fast,” Remi tried to insist. “Let’s talk, first.”

  “Talk? About what?”

  “Us.”

  “We can talk when we’re in bed. Come on. Hurry.”

  “Fuck,” Remi gasped. He was unable to resist Guiche.

  In the bedroom, it was the same setup as before—the clean sheets, pale blue this time, on the bed; the bottle of lube, the box of condoms, and the trick towel, all within handy reach on the nightstand.

  “Wait,” Guiche insisted, when Remi began to undress. “Let me do it.”

  “Are you high?” Remi asked, suspiciously. “Are you on something?”

  Guiche grinned at him. “Maybe. Do you mind?”

  “No. But are you going to give me a chance to catch up with you?”

  “Yeah, but first let’s get naked.”

  Remi sat on the edge of the bed and allowed Guiche to strip him. First Guiche divested him of his shirt. Then, kneeling beside the bed, Guiche pulled off Remi’s shoes and socks. Unbuckling Remi’s belt and opening the waistband of Remi’s trousers, the hustler pulled down the zipper. When Remi raised his butt from the mattress to help, Guiche plunged a hand inside his open pants, groping for his cock. When he found it, Guiche stroked it, possessively; and Remi groaned as he saw and felt himself getting hard inside the other guy’s fist. Still on his knees in front of Remi, Guiche took his hand off his now stiff prick, so that he could use both hands to guide Remi’s trousers and undershorts down his legs and free his feet from the garments, which he tossed aside.

  Guiche did not get back up when Remi was completely naked. Instead, he remained kneeling between Remi’s legs. He reached for Remi’s thighs and he rubbed and squeezed them, as he nuzzled his cheek against Remi’s lower belly. Tantalizingly, Remi’s rigid cock waved about above his groin, colliding with Guiche’s unshaven chin and cheek.

  “Are you going to suck it?” Remi asked.

  “Want it sucked?”

  “Of course. I want to do you, too.”

  “Soon,” Guiche promised. “But first—” He slid open the top drawer of the nightstand, and took out a glass ashtray, a disposable plastic cigarette lighter, and a small metal tin. Popping open the hinged lid of the tin, Guiche revealed a neat row of pre-r
olled joints. Mutely, he raised the open tin, offering the handmade cigarettes to Remi. Remi took one, stuck it in his mouth, and lit up. Sucking in the pot smoke, he leaned back on the bed.

  Guiche kissed Remi’s cock, which made it jump in response to the light, teasing pressure. After giving the shaft of the penis a teasing swab with his tongue, Guiche stood up, and he shed his sweatpants. Naked and stiff-dicked, he joined Remi on the bed. They sat there, nude and erect, passing the joint back and forth.

  “We can fuck after this weed kicks in. You wanted to talk,” Guiche reminded Remi. “So, talk.”

  “I have to admit it. I like you. A lot. I’ve begun to get obsessive about you. I hate the thought of you being with all of those other men. I want you all to myself.”

  Guiche smiled, but he also shrugged. “You’re going to have to get used to it. And think about it, objectively, mon ami. It’s no different, really, than picking up a different guy every time you go out on the town, cruising.”

  “It’s a little different,” Remi protested. “Unless a guy is really promiscuous, he doesn’t hook up with just anyone. I like to get laid as much as anybody. But I do try to be discriminating.”

  “Which means what? You vet the other dude, in the course of a brief conversation over a drink in a noisy bar, to find out whether he’s suitable? And suitable for what? A one-night stand? A casual fling? A possible long-term romance?”

  “When you put it like that—! Okay, sure. I usually start getting to know the other guy after we’ve jumped into bed together, and we’ve gotten that first rush of horniness out of our systems.”

  “If you decide he’s worth the trouble of getting to know any better, at that point,” Guiche suggested, cynically.

  “Yeah. But you—you have sex with any guy who’s willing to pay your price.”

  “Not quite. If the john turns out to be downright repulsive, physically, when we meet face to face, or if I get a weirdo vibe from him, then I’ve been known to back out. And if he squawks, I’ll refund his money. But that’s very unusual. Usually I go through with it. It’s a job, after all.”

  “Last time—when we were together—you really seemed to get into it with me.”

  Guiche grinned. “There’s no reason why I can’t enjoy my work. And you’d be surprised by how many of the johns are decent—not just decent-looking, but with nice personalities, and good in bed. The kind of stuck-up queen you run into sometimes when you’re out on the town, the kind who has high standards, doesn’t know what he’s missing out on. You can have a good time with a guy who isn’t exactly male model material.”

  “Does that category include me?”

  “Of course not. You’re in a category of your own, and it’s an exclusive one. After all, you’re getting it today for free. That is, if you still want it. If my being a whore is a deal-breaker, then now’s the time to say it.” They’d finished the joint. “We can put our clothes back on, smoke another one of these, and then go our separate ways, parting as friends, and no harm done.”

  “Give me some credit,” Remi mumbled. “I can be less than crazy about something, without it necessarily being a deal-breaker. Are you going to insist on making me say it? Okay. I want to be with you. I want us to fuck.”

  “Then let’s table this discussion for later, shall we?” Guiche suggested. “Right now—how about less talk, and more action?”

  “Yeah,” Remi agreed.

  Guiche rolled over on top of Remi, who relished this sudden full body contact between them. After rubbing himself against Remi for a moment, like a cat, Guiche raised himself higher, straddling Remi’s waist with his knees and settling the weight of his buttocks on the other young man’s thighs. He bent his head and kissed Remi on the mouth—softly, with a surprising tenderness which was every bit as exciting as rougher lovemaking could have been. With their lips joined, they explored each other’s bodies with their hands, searching, caressing, stimulating.

  Guiche’s lips moved down from Remi’s mouth to his chin, and then to his neck. He sucked there furiously for a moment, drawing a soft fold of the neck skin deep into his mouth and lashing away at it with his tongue. Then he let go and moved backward just enough to give his mouth lower access, covering Remi’s chest with hot kisses. Slowly he inched his way down across the muscled flesh of Remi’s pecs, covering every inch of them with the moisture of his tongue.

  By the time Guiche reached his navel, Remi’s excitement was at its peak, the sexual tension in his body almost unbearable. Yet he didn’t want to hurry his partner this time. He knew that Guiche would please him in more direct and explicit ways, when he was ready to do so, and that everything the experienced male prostitute would do before then was a treat, to be cherished and enjoyed as well. Remi’s tense-muscled legs felt like bars of quivering iron, rocking back and forth, opening and closing, tightening and relaxing, while the mouth on his flesh moved steadily lower and the thrills it sent shooting through him became more intense.

  He felt Guiche’s tongue sliding around inside his navel, and then drawing slowly away and starting the last few inches of its journey of exploration. Remi’s breath was coming raggedly through his mouth. His palms were damp with the sweat of intense excitement. It was all he could do to keep from grasping his bedmate’s shoulders and shoving him down his torso the rest of the way, forcing him to put an end to this teasing and bring the sweet joys of satisfaction to him.

  “Put your legs up,” Guiche said softly. “On my shoulders, Remi. Put them up.” He grasped them and lifted the other guy’s legs from the bed, rested them on his shoulders, and then he bent his head down between them.

  Remi could not help crying out when he felt the hot, wet tongue resuming its erotic tickling. He wanted so much to shove up with his hips, to drive his dick into Guiche’s mouth and complete the fusion of their flesh at last; but he forced himself to wait and find out what the other man was going to do to him. Lower and lower the tongue went, teasing and tormenting every inch of Remi’s burning groin flesh; and as it did, Guiche arched Remi higher and higher, until his body was bent almost double. Remi felt Guiche’s hand stroking across his buttocks, and then he gasped when the whore’s hot breath came down on his anal cleft and the thick, hot, stiffened tongue began to burrow through his sphincter’s pucker in a way Remi had rarely experienced. Guiche was rimming him, hungrily and expertly, literally fucking Remi’s asshole with his tongue!

  “Oh, suck my ass!” Remi cried. Not that Guiche needed either an invitation, or encouragement. The rimming continued, until Remi thought he would go mad with his pent-up lust.

  As though sensing Remi’s frustration, Guiche finally abandoned his oral assault on his asshole—only to readjust his position between Remi’s thighs and attack his cock, instead.

  “I want to taste this, too,” Guiche declared. His hand grasped Remi’s erection. His fingers wrapped themselves around the smooth, hard column of flesh and his palm rubbed across it. Holding the penis firmly by its base, Guiche brought his lips closer to it and he planted a wet, lingering kiss on the exposed tip of the male organ. His tongue dug under the flap of foreskin, tickling. Remi gasped and he brought his hands down on top of Guiche’s head, urging him to blow him. His legs trembled when at last he got his wish. He felt the warm wet pressure of that talented mouth close around him and it seemed to devour not only his hard-on, but his very soul.

  “Oh, Guiche,” he whispered, clutching his fingers in the other’s thick hair. “That feels so good! Go on doing that, please. Oh, please suck me, just like that!” He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, thrilled to the very core of his being by the constant waves of ecstasy flowing through him.

  He felt the muscles in the backs of his knees tightening as Guiche brought him closer and closer to the peak of pleasure. Then, suddenly, he cried out in protest when the prolonged, delightful oral-genital contact was broken and Guiche raised his head.

  “Why did you stop?” Remi demanded. “I was almost ready to—”

&nbs
p; “To come? Yeah, I know you were. I could taste your jism, dribbling into my mouth. That was hot.”

  “Didn’t you want to finish me off and swallow it?”

  ‘Of course I did. But then I changed my mind. I decided I didn’t want you to come. Not just yet.” Guiche grinned in that impish, disarming way he had. “Come here,” he urged, motioning for Remi to lie beside him. He put his arm around the other guy’s shoulder and hugged him tightly. “I want to really make love to you. I want to fuck you. Can I?”

  “Sure. Only—we’d better use plenty of lube. You’re hung so big.”

  “Flatterer!” Guiche said. He laughed, as he reached for the bottle of lubricant and a condom.

  “How do you want me?” Remi asked, watching Guiche put on the rubber and lubricate himself. “I mean, what position?”

  “You choose.”

  “Let me get on my belly, with you on top of me.”

  “Fine.”

  “You may have to go a little easy at first,” Remi cautioned.

  “I will.”

  Remi turned onto his stomach, spreading his legs as wide as he could. “Come on,” he told Guiche. “Lie down on my back. Get that big cock in me!”

  Trembling with desire and with his body throbbing with excitement, Guiche got up on top of Remi and settled his weight flat, his chest against Remi’s back, and his belly against Remi’s buttocks.

  Remi groaned, and he arched up against Guiche. “Oh, you’re heavy,” he complained. “Get up a little on your knees and your elbows.” Guiche did as he was asked. “Ah, that’s much better. Just rest on me enough that I can feel your body on mine, your skin on mine. That’s what I want.”

  “Is that all you what?” Guiche asked, after there was a tense moment of silence between them.

  “You know better. Go ahead and do it to me now. Fuck me. Push your dick in and out of my ass.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  “Ready? I’m beginning to get impatient,” Remi said, with a laugh. He thrust up with his buttocks and wriggled them against Guiche’s groin, tantalizing him, and then he dropped his hips back to the bed and slowly twisted them from side to side, while Guiche began to lower himself. “Ah!” Remi suddenly cried. His hand flew between their bodies and shoved against Guiche’s belly, holding him back, lifting him up a few inches. “Go slow,” he pleaded.