DudeThrill.com
Can you say "I love you" to a sexting guy you just met on a fashionable holiday beach and caciarona? Or rather, can you suffer for those little words not said for fear of being naked and vulnerable? And yet, can you, at my age, forty-four, feel like a teenager in his first crush? To be so pregnant with emotions that you can feel them all weigh and burn, like burning embers, on your eyelids? But above all, will I, at my age, in my condition, be able to bear all this?
Yet this sexting miracle of barely twenty years or so, this evening I happened to seduce him. Yes, I'm serious, to seduce him!
It all happened a little while ago. I saw him in the colorful crowd on the waterfront. A huge, crazy crowd all crowded under the terrace of the club. The goddamn deep-house music was pumping from the speakers non-stop. He looked like a glittering fish out of water, and I seduced him, with a play of glances. A duel of looks, between the two of us, from a distance. His gaze, however, had something strange about it, it seemed almost begging, almost a cry for help.
I bypassed all those people who overlapped each other, like in an action movie, and in the end I reached him. I greeted him with all the charm I had in my body.
I didn't say anything else, because with all that mess it was pretty useless. In an attempt to make him more comfortable, I left my head on his warm, welcoming, smelly chest to make him feel that I was as helpless as he was.
To my enormous surprise he pulled my head up, stared me straight in the eye, and without even thinking about it too much he stuck his tongue in my mouth, all that, in the middle of that human tide. At that point I was the one who was afraid.
I suspected the sexting had had a little too much to drink, of course the taste of alcohol in his mouth was the main clue!
I decided on the spur of the moment to take him to a more secluded place, this while Christina Aguilera screamed like crazy: "I'm not myself tonight... becaause I'm not the same girl!"
I brought him here, to the beach, because the pinewood is certainly full at this hour, but also to not make a bad impression on him. We went a little beyond the area where transvestites gather to practice.
And here we are. His hair is quite short, with an adorable fringe like a good boy, in short nothing to do with the endless extravagances that are fashionable now among the youngest in terms of hairstyles, things like improbable challenges to the force of gravity, or tufts passed under an implacable iron.
He's blondish. Green eyes with golden straws, a graceful and decisive fawn cut. He wears an anonymous black T-shirt, but very tight, which accentuates his sinuous and muscular body.
We're sitting on sunbeds, making sure we're not being caught by the guy who's watching the beach at night.
A bump of sand shelters us, the lights of a worldly limelight, not far from here, dazzle us, and the music, too loud, deafens us.
He, I repeat, is handsome, so handsome it hurts.
But what's he doing now? He stands up in front of me. He lowers his jeans, but I block him. What if I let my emotions betray me what could happen?
What's your name? I'll ask him with a little voice.
As if nothing had happened, he zips up, pulls himself together, and a cheerful ring...
David. That's the name of the one who's killing me. Killing more than you...
And I don't know why I think back to what happened only yesterday.
We've been here in this seaside resort for holiday fags for a couple of days. We come here every year, we always rent the same house. Yesterday morning while I was having a light breakfast, as usual, and my head hurt a little bit, my friend Franziska gave me hot coffee in a bad way, she had a slightly grim look.
How beautiful my friend Franziska is, with her fragrant brown skin, long black hair with blue highlights, swollen lips and generous and welcoming breasts.
Mother nature had been very kind to her, but the surgeon took care of the rest. A clean cut with the past, and voilà, Franziska had become a she!
I took a sip of that black and bitter coffee, as I liked it, and stared at her in my turn. She held my gaze. Her look was getting darker and darker. Then I smiled mocking her, because I knew she'd soon give me a lecture.
Where did you end up last night?
I didn't answer. And I put on a big, dumb-ass smile. That's perfect.
Andrea, Ale, Luca... We've all been looking for you. But we didn't let you out of our sight.
I frowned, in pain.
Did you take her pills?
I decided to play the irony card and answer her first statement.
Come on. Andrea must have been busy as usual doing the usual sexting. Luca doing something else, pulling his nose. Ale must have been in the pine forest... and you, wonderful odalisque, must have been on some cube seducing man after man! All too busy to look after me!
And then, exhausted, with a dull smile, I shut up. And I stared at Cyrus' cage, my friend's inseparable canary yellow inseparable. The poor bird was still motionless, as usual, as if he were stuffed, after all I'm sure he knew that if he took even one more breath than normal his mistress would go into anxiety and would suffocate him with "loving" care.
But in the end she was a good person and she was just worried for us, for me and Ciro the canary.
And then I puffed and sighed, like a child, and with a tone, that I hoped, reassuring, externalized:
Yes ! I took the demonic drug cocktail!
Demonic?!!!! Yeah, but it saves your life.
She was beside herself, poor thing. Her beautiful, well-groomed lilac enamel fingernails, they went against the waxed canvas of the breakfast table.
The others were still asleep. Thank God they were spared that scene.
She then modulated her sensual and hoarse tranny voice and spoke to me as she would to a six-year-old boy:
Anyway, I don't think Andrea's the only one who's been banging sexting.
If he had slapped me in the face I think he wouldn't have hurt me so much!
What are you talking about ?
You should know by now that I know everything I want to know...
And you don't know anything! I didn't do anything last night with anybody!
I wonder what he'd say now, seeing me here with him. Knowing her, she could drop in here any minute.
David's talking to me now. He's got a beautiful voice, sexting and pure. Phonetically perfect. No, he can't be "evil." He's a 100% concentrated explosive of life. He can't hurt me. But "evil" I'm one thing that's very clear to me. But I don't care now that I'm pervaded by some sort of silly levity.
Davide confesses to me, giggling, that apart from a few drinks during the commanded parties he never drinks.
He is drunk with life. And his "wobbly wobbly wobbly" of before was only his innate and sensual way of wiggling.
We both squeeze into a shy embrace, fully clothed.
The waves of the sea lull us and an indiscreet full moon spies on us.
-How old are you? -I find myself asking him.
Twenty.
Where from?"
Milan.
Come on. So do I!
Well, I'm from Binasco.
I have friends who live over there... ...but the way you talk, the open vowels, you sound like you're from down there...
Yes? Usually they call me Roman! And he giggles and giggles, showing me bright white teeth.
We talk about everything, about everyday life, and I'd like to talk to him about you too. But it's like there's a knot in my throat. I can't do it.
And what if David is my Beatrice, who is capable of making me find myself in this dark forest? What if I'm simply facing my own personal catabasis like Renzo? Or is he my Madeleine pushing me in search of a sleepy lost time?
Our faces, our lips are closer and closer...
Where have you been? That's Franziska's unmistakable voice.
Davide and I are going to break off immediately. When you think about it, it's an embarrassing situation for many reasons. The main one is always her, the bitch. Another could be the fact that I'm a middle-aged teacher, and he's a sexting university student, as he told me, and to get back into the usual, hackneyed, cliché of the professor seducing the student is, at least for me, embarrassing.
It's getting late, shall we go home?
Who's this? Are you two together? Are you straight? Jump on David.
Franziska laughs like crazy and sits in our midst and exclaims: No, honey, our friend doesn't like trannies. She winks at him. Davide has a shocked look on his face.
You didn't do it, did you?! Franziska still goes on with a cautionary but also mischievous tone.
Davide turns red, I do to answer him something, but then Andrea comes along. And in an instant all my friends are there with us, in our "secret" place that no longer has anything magical.
But it feels good all the same. One laughs and jokes. But when Davide tells us this, we are silent, the atmosphere becomes very involved.
You know what? I just want to find a man who can make me live a fairy tale... once a guy took me to his house, we did it, very tenderly, then he made me shower, breakfast. Yeah, just a little fairy tale.
It makes my heart ache to hear it. Andrea gets close to him and asks him with his usual charming manner:_ But what does this man have to be like? Bigger?
David nods with his head.
...and the asshole points at me... ...and points at himself.
Davide is embarrassed, so Andrea kisses him there in front of everyone.
Davide, however, immediately escapes that stolen kiss. And a bit by surprise he takes refuge in my arms. A situation of surreal silence is created.
I gently caress his head: _You know, I don't know why...but this first meeting reminds me a bit of the film, but obviously also of the book by Margaret Mazzantini from which it was taken, "Don't move", the one with Sergio Castellitto and Penelope Cruz, have you ever seen it? Well, there is 'this Sergio who plays the part of a distinguished man, a doctor-surgeon, who falls in love with 'this Penelope Cruz, who instead is a woman of the streets, an outcast. A love is born between them that from brutal and purely carnal, slowly evolves..._ and as I say it I realize that more than to him, or to others, I am saying it to myself.
But Davide answers me: "Haven't we yet met carnal yet?
He looks at me with a puppy-like look. This time he really kisses me and puts his hand on my puppy flap. I decide I don't want to. Partly because of her and partly because I've never been a "baby biting shark".
One of those sleazy men in their thirties and upwards who chase sexting everywhere and always anyway, seducing them with half-cocks, thinking they can do what they want with their sexting prey.
The sexting have never said anything to me before. Yes of course, I've always liked men with a certain style and refined bearing, that these guys are always the shady and dirty inside is another story, after all it was one of these cool guys who introduced me to her.
Franziska takes care of it, as usual, to bring us back to reality:_ Come on, guys, it's really time to leave.
David, perhaps upset, gets up and leaves. Andrea gets up in turn and joins him. He grabs him by the arm. He turns around. He sees him, seems disappointed to see it's him. But he lets himself be taken by the hand. I already know where she's taking him, to the pine forest, to fuck him.
While me and the others get up to leave in turn. I see the little boy coming back, running towards me. Even Franziska is amazed.
Davide is crying, I can see now that he's near, clinging to me with his little fists clinging to my chest.
Idiot, I want you, damn it!
I can't!
Why the fuck not?
Because I've got her, my fucking disease, I've got AIDS, baby!
Now run. I know. I can feel it. And I still haven't been able to say "I love you."
Yet this sexting miracle of barely twenty years or so, this evening I happened to seduce him. Yes, I'm serious, to seduce him!
It all happened a little while ago. I saw him in the colorful crowd on the waterfront. A huge, crazy crowd all crowded under the terrace of the club. The goddamn deep-house music was pumping from the speakers non-stop. He looked like a glittering fish out of water, and I seduced him, with a play of glances. A duel of looks, between the two of us, from a distance. His gaze, however, had something strange about it, it seemed almost begging, almost a cry for help.
I bypassed all those people who overlapped each other, like in an action movie, and in the end I reached him. I greeted him with all the charm I had in my body.
I didn't say anything else, because with all that mess it was pretty useless. In an attempt to make him more comfortable, I left my head on his warm, welcoming, smelly chest to make him feel that I was as helpless as he was.
To my enormous surprise he pulled my head up, stared me straight in the eye, and without even thinking about it too much he stuck his tongue in my mouth, all that, in the middle of that human tide. At that point I was the one who was afraid.
I suspected the sexting had had a little too much to drink, of course the taste of alcohol in his mouth was the main clue!
I decided on the spur of the moment to take him to a more secluded place, this while Christina Aguilera screamed like crazy: "I'm not myself tonight... becaause I'm not the same girl!"
I brought him here, to the beach, because the pinewood is certainly full at this hour, but also to not make a bad impression on him. We went a little beyond the area where transvestites gather to practice.
And here we are. His hair is quite short, with an adorable fringe like a good boy, in short nothing to do with the endless extravagances that are fashionable now among the youngest in terms of hairstyles, things like improbable challenges to the force of gravity, or tufts passed under an implacable iron.
He's blondish. Green eyes with golden straws, a graceful and decisive fawn cut. He wears an anonymous black T-shirt, but very tight, which accentuates his sinuous and muscular body.
We're sitting on sunbeds, making sure we're not being caught by the guy who's watching the beach at night.
A bump of sand shelters us, the lights of a worldly limelight, not far from here, dazzle us, and the music, too loud, deafens us.
He, I repeat, is handsome, so handsome it hurts.
But what's he doing now? He stands up in front of me. He lowers his jeans, but I block him. What if I let my emotions betray me what could happen?
What's your name? I'll ask him with a little voice.
As if nothing had happened, he zips up, pulls himself together, and a cheerful ring...
David. That's the name of the one who's killing me. Killing more than you...
And I don't know why I think back to what happened only yesterday.
We've been here in this seaside resort for holiday fags for a couple of days. We come here every year, we always rent the same house. Yesterday morning while I was having a light breakfast, as usual, and my head hurt a little bit, my friend Franziska gave me hot coffee in a bad way, she had a slightly grim look.
How beautiful my friend Franziska is, with her fragrant brown skin, long black hair with blue highlights, swollen lips and generous and welcoming breasts.
Mother nature had been very kind to her, but the surgeon took care of the rest. A clean cut with the past, and voilà, Franziska had become a she!
I took a sip of that black and bitter coffee, as I liked it, and stared at her in my turn. She held my gaze. Her look was getting darker and darker. Then I smiled mocking her, because I knew she'd soon give me a lecture.
Where did you end up last night?
I didn't answer. And I put on a big, dumb-ass smile. That's perfect.
Andrea, Ale, Luca... We've all been looking for you. But we didn't let you out of our sight.
I frowned, in pain.
Did you take her pills?
I decided to play the irony card and answer her first statement.
Come on. Andrea must have been busy as usual doing the usual sexting. Luca doing something else, pulling his nose. Ale must have been in the pine forest... and you, wonderful odalisque, must have been on some cube seducing man after man! All too busy to look after me!
And then, exhausted, with a dull smile, I shut up. And I stared at Cyrus' cage, my friend's inseparable canary yellow inseparable. The poor bird was still motionless, as usual, as if he were stuffed, after all I'm sure he knew that if he took even one more breath than normal his mistress would go into anxiety and would suffocate him with "loving" care.
But in the end she was a good person and she was just worried for us, for me and Ciro the canary.
And then I puffed and sighed, like a child, and with a tone, that I hoped, reassuring, externalized:
Yes ! I took the demonic drug cocktail!
Demonic?!!!! Yeah, but it saves your life.
She was beside herself, poor thing. Her beautiful, well-groomed lilac enamel fingernails, they went against the waxed canvas of the breakfast table.
The others were still asleep. Thank God they were spared that scene.
She then modulated her sensual and hoarse tranny voice and spoke to me as she would to a six-year-old boy:
Anyway, I don't think Andrea's the only one who's been banging sexting.
If he had slapped me in the face I think he wouldn't have hurt me so much!
What are you talking about ?
You should know by now that I know everything I want to know...
And you don't know anything! I didn't do anything last night with anybody!
I wonder what he'd say now, seeing me here with him. Knowing her, she could drop in here any minute.
David's talking to me now. He's got a beautiful voice, sexting and pure. Phonetically perfect. No, he can't be "evil." He's a 100% concentrated explosive of life. He can't hurt me. But "evil" I'm one thing that's very clear to me. But I don't care now that I'm pervaded by some sort of silly levity.
Davide confesses to me, giggling, that apart from a few drinks during the commanded parties he never drinks.
He is drunk with life. And his "wobbly wobbly wobbly" of before was only his innate and sensual way of wiggling.
We both squeeze into a shy embrace, fully clothed.
The waves of the sea lull us and an indiscreet full moon spies on us.
-How old are you? -I find myself asking him.
Twenty.
Where from?"
Milan.
Come on. So do I!
Well, I'm from Binasco.
I have friends who live over there... ...but the way you talk, the open vowels, you sound like you're from down there...
Yes? Usually they call me Roman! And he giggles and giggles, showing me bright white teeth.
We talk about everything, about everyday life, and I'd like to talk to him about you too. But it's like there's a knot in my throat. I can't do it.
And what if David is my Beatrice, who is capable of making me find myself in this dark forest? What if I'm simply facing my own personal catabasis like Renzo? Or is he my Madeleine pushing me in search of a sleepy lost time?
Our faces, our lips are closer and closer...
Where have you been? That's Franziska's unmistakable voice.
Davide and I are going to break off immediately. When you think about it, it's an embarrassing situation for many reasons. The main one is always her, the bitch. Another could be the fact that I'm a middle-aged teacher, and he's a sexting university student, as he told me, and to get back into the usual, hackneyed, cliché of the professor seducing the student is, at least for me, embarrassing.
It's getting late, shall we go home?
Who's this? Are you two together? Are you straight? Jump on David.
Franziska laughs like crazy and sits in our midst and exclaims: No, honey, our friend doesn't like trannies. She winks at him. Davide has a shocked look on his face.
You didn't do it, did you?! Franziska still goes on with a cautionary but also mischievous tone.
Davide turns red, I do to answer him something, but then Andrea comes along. And in an instant all my friends are there with us, in our "secret" place that no longer has anything magical.
But it feels good all the same. One laughs and jokes. But when Davide tells us this, we are silent, the atmosphere becomes very involved.
You know what? I just want to find a man who can make me live a fairy tale... once a guy took me to his house, we did it, very tenderly, then he made me shower, breakfast. Yeah, just a little fairy tale.
It makes my heart ache to hear it. Andrea gets close to him and asks him with his usual charming manner:_ But what does this man have to be like? Bigger?
David nods with his head.
...and the asshole points at me... ...and points at himself.
Davide is embarrassed, so Andrea kisses him there in front of everyone.
Davide, however, immediately escapes that stolen kiss. And a bit by surprise he takes refuge in my arms. A situation of surreal silence is created.
I gently caress his head: _You know, I don't know why...but this first meeting reminds me a bit of the film, but obviously also of the book by Margaret Mazzantini from which it was taken, "Don't move", the one with Sergio Castellitto and Penelope Cruz, have you ever seen it? Well, there is 'this Sergio who plays the part of a distinguished man, a doctor-surgeon, who falls in love with 'this Penelope Cruz, who instead is a woman of the streets, an outcast. A love is born between them that from brutal and purely carnal, slowly evolves..._ and as I say it I realize that more than to him, or to others, I am saying it to myself.
But Davide answers me: "Haven't we yet met carnal yet?
He looks at me with a puppy-like look. This time he really kisses me and puts his hand on my puppy flap. I decide I don't want to. Partly because of her and partly because I've never been a "baby biting shark".
One of those sleazy men in their thirties and upwards who chase sexting everywhere and always anyway, seducing them with half-cocks, thinking they can do what they want with their sexting prey.
The sexting have never said anything to me before. Yes of course, I've always liked men with a certain style and refined bearing, that these guys are always the shady and dirty inside is another story, after all it was one of these cool guys who introduced me to her.
Franziska takes care of it, as usual, to bring us back to reality:_ Come on, guys, it's really time to leave.
David, perhaps upset, gets up and leaves. Andrea gets up in turn and joins him. He grabs him by the arm. He turns around. He sees him, seems disappointed to see it's him. But he lets himself be taken by the hand. I already know where she's taking him, to the pine forest, to fuck him.
While me and the others get up to leave in turn. I see the little boy coming back, running towards me. Even Franziska is amazed.
Davide is crying, I can see now that he's near, clinging to me with his little fists clinging to my chest.
Idiot, I want you, damn it!
I can't!
Why the fuck not?
Because I've got her, my fucking disease, I've got AIDS, baby!
Now run. I know. I can feel it. And I still haven't been able to say "I love you."
