Cock-Sucker: Tales Of Euro-Sex

TALES OF EURO-SEX

by

TRISTAN TROTSKY

I was attending a writer's workshop in the La Croix-Rousse area of the beautiful French city of Lyon. During the day I meander through the city, enjoying the Loire valley sunshine, wandering a maze of cobbled lanes, small side streets, investigating the bookshop of Le Bal des Ardents, then checking out L'Horloge de Guignol, a rather fascinating timepiece installed outside the Gadagne Museum. In the evening, I find myself talking in the hotel reception with a heavy-built French erotic writer -- probably in his mid-fifties, he was hugely amused and proud to show me a website he'd created which rates his ex-wives and girlfriends on their cock-sucking skills. He thought the idea was immensely entertaining, and -- of course, I was intrigued.

After a while I suggest that maybe I should be rated against the girls on his list. He guffaws at the idea, looking at me in a curiously uncertain way, but when I make it obvious that I'm serious he comes over all dubious, eyeing me up and down suspiciously. Later in the evening he returns and asks me again if I'm entirely on the level. When I assure him that I am he quietly invites me back to his room. Purely for research purposes, of course.

He's still nervous and unsure, he walks up and down the room in an agitated way as I sit meekly waiting on the bed. The window opens out onto a Juliet balcony allowing ancient Bougainvillea aroma to slowly scent the room with its intoxicating richness.

'You've done this sort of thing before?' he asks me.

I smile, 'my prose-work is renowned for it' I concede with mock-modesty. 'Britain may have pulled out of Europe but I've never believed in withdrawal, not for a moment.'

Eventually, as though he's come to a decision, he unbuckles his belt and half-drops his pants to his knees, letting me have my way. He has a bit of a belly, he is very hairy, and it's not a very beautiful cock, I've certainly had bigger and more vigorous cocks in my mouth, but mindful that my performance ability is being rated I do my best to make it a great experience for him, sucking, licking, deep-throating him, fondling his fat balls, using my tongue and tiny nips of my teeth. As I suck him he gains confidence and relaxes.

He lies back on the bed, and as I get really energetic on that cock, he begins grunting and making little fuck-motions into my mouth, until I feel the tell-tale tremors begin, and I clamp my lips in tight around the pulsing shaft as he cums in three powerful spurts into my mouth -- for such an unprepossessing cock his ejaculation is impressive, I swallow and continue sucking until he eases back and slowly loses his rigidity.

Afterwards, he brusquely offers me a drink from a well-stocked bar-cabinet, a courtesy I decline, preferring to savour the taste of his cum-nectar on my tongue. As though relieved, he hurriedly ushers me out of his room. But the following day, in my own room, I log onto his website to discover my name is now no.1 on the list! There's immediate irate email feedback from his ex-wife who was in the top slot but is now at no.2, and also the girlfriend who was no.3 and is now no.4. They're angry, not only at their demotion, but by the fact that it is a guy who sucks cock better than they do! Last I heard he'd taken the website down to reconsider his options...

When the Lyon weekend is done, before returning home I take advantage of an invitation to spend time in northern Italy. Signore Marinetti made his fortune from his collusion in government corruption, he has a villa with extensive grounds in Lombardy, where he poses as a benefactor of the arts. He writes literary gay pornography which he self-publishes in lavish volumes and he hosts elegant parties for decadent celebrity movie directors, fashion designers and artists. He has household staff and security, and at any given time he has up to eight late-teenage boys for 'hosting'. Once they are of legal age, he buys them from Rumania or perhaps Turkey.

They are chosen for their looks, and naturally for the size of their cocks, obviously that is what matters when he's choosing a favourite, the bigger the better. Often the boys had been pimped by their families. Once in the grounds they're kept naked with regular sexual roles and disciplines to fulfil as part of their induction programme. Aptitude is important. If they have no natural erotic skills or talents, they're quite free to return to the poverty and squalor of their home villages. Few of them take that option. Eventually, once they're fully 'broken in', they will be passed on to elite 'escort agencies' or to brothels in Amsterdam, Rome or London, where they're prized and fetch a good transfer fee. Despite his undeniably sinister aspects, Signore Marinetti is efficient at what he does, and he enjoys his lifestyle.

He has frequent stay-over guests -- such as myself, who naturally observe, sample and are encouraged to take part in the activities. But the boys also have a rota to fulfil that includes sucking each other off, giving or taking anal on a regular acclimatizing basis. So that while guests sip martinis on the patio enveloped in swirls of Italian opera, they might glimpse random coupling take place in the gardens or around the pool as the naked youths frolic and satisfy each other. Guests are served drinks by naked youths, and invited to fondle them. No request is denied. Evening parties and entertainment leads to each guest being supplied with at least one boy with which to spend the night.

I was fortunate enough to have been a guest at the villa on a number of occasions, and naturally avail myself of its delights to the fullest extent of which I'm capable. Pretending an air of nonchalance I sit engaged in conversation about commerce or art while sipping expensive wines and nibbling delicious cannoli, while casually observing the antics of nude boys by the pool. In the evening there's a divertimento -- a teen-boy daisy-chain, then a playful cock-roulette competition in which a circle boys compete against each other in oral-sex games to our applause and encouragement.

All the while my attention is drawn to one exceptional boy, although dark-haired and shy-looking he seems singularly adept at enjoying sex, and he has a particularly beautiful cock. He's especially pretty with his friend's big cock lodged in his mouth. Cock and mouth seem to make the perfect match. I was eyeing him up as a candidate to take to bed. Naturally I feign indifference until the evening's final moments when called upon to select a bed-mate, but... oh, him, Giovanni or Mario, and he follows me obediently with a nervous smile, as though wondering what I will do to him?

Oh -- I intend doing everything, as the mood takes me. Just seeing the way his cock sways attractively as he paces with androgynous feline grace along the carpet has my teeth aching with desire. The bedroom has a private balcony looking out over countryside rolling down towards a lake that glitters in the bright sunshine. There's a bowl of condoms and tubes of flavoured lube. We don't need the condoms.

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.

'Welcome to the fraternity, brother cocksucker' says Rob.

'The sexually-active more mature cocksucker is always a joy' adds Jay suggestively.

So, inevitably we all wind up naked on the bed together. They are lying together kissing passionately, while I'm crouched down attending to their more intimate sexual needs. Rob's got a big uncircumcised cock, his younger partner has a smaller cut cock, but both taste delicious in their own way as I alternate my mouth from one erection to the other, feeling their bodies respond as my mouth envelops them.

Midway, Rob decides he'd like to watch the two of us sixty-nine... although I don't think Jay is initially all that keen. We arrange ourselves, and I suck him enthusiastically, enjoying his cock, while he sucks me in a more dainty fashion, and Rob uses his phone to take photos. We roll together, my hands clutching the smooth round curves of his bottom to draw him down deeper into my mouth, then -- when I cum, Jay fastidiously moves his head aside so that I spurt long white streaks of cum all the way up my stomach, much to Rob's amusement. Then I simply roll over and lie on my back so they can both crouch on either side of my head and take turns fucking my greedy mouth. We are all laughing in intoxicated arousal. They shoot spunk across my face so that Rob can take more photos of me daubing spermy kisses and sucking the messy cocks as their spunk dribbles across my nose and cheeks... it turns out to be a wonderfully satisfying weekend, and it goes some way to relieve my perpetual sexual ache...

BY TRISTAN TROTSKY