OK, so I see this boy for a few weeks. Spanish. Thirty. Nice-looking. Young Al Pacino. Polite, reserved, charming. Holds himself. Wears sweaters with horizontal stripes. And I’m thinking, me and this boy have nothing in common. It would be really mean to fuck him. Those big trusting eyes. So I play it cool, but the boy is keen. Sends me cute little texts at Christmas. So the fourth date is chez moi and after a decent interval I find myself irresistibly drawn to the young Euro-hotty, and we snog in the kitchen. We’re visible to the neighbours so we move into the living room. The kid goes for my dick! I’m a little scandalised because he seemed so well brought-up, but I go with it and we pull each other’s clothes off and roll around on the rug. I don’t often give head but I’m thinking, oh my god it’s my new boyfriend, and we devour each other. We pause for dinner — I note with pleasure that he has an opinion on the subject of roasting a duck — and then resume in the bedroom. It’s one of those occasions when you have sex for four hours. He opens like a flower. Tells me he’s all mine, that I can do ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING I WANT to him. I’m falling in love with the guy (having checked our astrological compatibility before he came round) and I figure I want to signal that he’s special to me, so I don’t fuck him. I mean, I give him a really good time and I don’t neglect those important nooks and crannies, but I want him to go home feeling that the best is yet to come. Strangely, his orgasm is rather muted, considering there has been (including dinner) six hours of foreplay, and in the shower he stands like a zombie, glazed and weird. I get a text in reply to mine, then radio silence. A week passes. Eventually I am summoned to a bar where he confesses that he “thinks he is in love with someone else.” I accept my dismissal with good grace, retire home and go over the events of the affair in my mind. I realise that I don’t know his address, that he always wanted to be met on street corners when I picked him up for a date - that I have been, in a word, seduced. And I think, Damn! Why didn’t I fuck the whore?
COPYRIGHT ROBERT FARRAR 2008
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