Waiting for the man I love

(posted by Martin)

martintagSo I finally get to talk to Hari. Things are going well, and he reckons he’ll be back at the end of next week. I tell him about Cal and Michael in the next room going at it like a barn door flapping in the wind, and I hear Michael shouting that he wants it harder, which is nice. Hari can hear it over the phone, too, which is a nice, and he says it reminds him of the last time he was in Paris.

Now, the last time he was in Paris was with me – we went for my birthday. We did all the touristy things, saw the art, walked around the architecture, drank the coffee, did the shopping, and in homage to Quentin Tarantino, we enjoyed the earthly pleasures of a Royale with Cheese.

We also met a very pleasant gentleman from Algeria who introduced himself as “Saber”, and with whom we spent a very distracting evening in our hotel. I think it was possibly the loudest sex that I’ve ever had. Saber was about twenty, and in some dimensions he was the biggest man I’ve ever seen. Sweet, considerate, a great kisser, and incredible stamina. We woke the neighbours. Twice. And this is the part of the story that Hari is telling me, reminding me of how, when the nice young man from next door knocked on our door and asked us to keep the noise down, I answered the door in a dressing gown to preserve my dignity, while Hari and Saber were locked in each other on the bed, but clearly visible from the door. I’m apologising in my haltering French and meanwhile Hari and Saber are shouting at me, telling me to come back to bed so that we can get on with things.

Needless to say, Hari goes in to much more graphic detail than that. And by the end, as Michael and Cal reach a conclusion in the other room, Hari and I do much the same in our own way.

It’s not the same, though. I tell Hari that, and he acknowledges it. And he tells me that he loves me, and I tell him that I love him, and then he tells me once again that if I need to, or want to, I should have sex with someone. He tells me that he knows that I have… urges… and that as long as I’m not actually depriving him of the chance to satisfy them, he’s okay with it. Whether it’s because I’m tired or because I’m intoxicated by listening to his voice, or because I’m still pretty unsatisfied despite the act of self-pleasure we’ve just indulged in, he seems to make a lot of sense to me.

Damn, I don’t know where I’m going with this.

Anyway, this morning, Michael has gone before I get up, Cal is wandering around like the cat that got the cream. I’m in meetings with Michael all morning. I reckon it’s going to be awkward.

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