Monday 12 June
At the bureau
Last week, after my move to this city, I had a few introductory talks as a senior partner of this larger architectural firm. Today the real work begins.
I had been approached for this position, just when Anneke and Lynn had bought a house in the Auvergne, wanting to spend their old pussy years there. I didn’t have enough new assignments in my own bureau, no focus, so I had to search around for a new start.
The first meeting was like a hot bath, my current assignments turned out to be sufficient for purchasing in a senior partnership. A large, furnished penthouse is available, so why not say no? And after that the regular workings, statement of irreproachable behaviour (fortunately never been found naked and fucking in a fountain!), medical research. I thought the extra attention for my bottom, front and back pieces a bit strange.
In the board meeting on Monday morning, I meet and greet the partners, introducing myself to those I had not yet spoken to before. Kees puts his left hand on top of our handshake, curious. I explain some of my work and design ideas, a lively discussion on ‘form and function’ arises as always between us architects. The ice is broken, they say in Dutch, we go back to work issues.
We discuss the portfolio of assignments, and I am getting the lead of the group of ‘trusted assignments’, because those involve both restoration and interior design, and that is my specialty.
“In addition to monuments, high-security villas, offices under state secret and – don’t smile – an exclusive sex club, you get to manage our lifestyle projects. Froukje has made a few feasibility studies of oncoming projects. You start with a clean slate. ” Kees concludes my introduction.
Back in my office, Froukje, junior architect, comes in. No!’ I think when scenting her ‘la vie est belle’ brings me into a deep embrace of my Laura, a sudden fierce memory and I swallow a tear away.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Neehee, nothing”, I say, “You can’t help it, your scent was my late girlfriend’s.”
“Shouldn’t I wear it anymore? “
“No, just leave it, you’re such a completely different type” and I look at the blonde Friezian line in her light blue eyes, anthropologically correct posture and face, a bit square, washed clean, ‘Sunlight soap head’ Laura would say.
When we discuss the projects, my thoughts wander off and images of Laura flash by, urging me with her eyes to go deep into a girlfriend or the times when we walked into a party of infinite nudity, always with that scent.
“Some project came in last week, I don’t know yet what it’s going to be, Leonard is going to take measurements next week”. She puts some pictures of a stately neo-Gothic villa in the woods in front of me. I’m back to square one. “Isn’t that, uh…”
“Oh yes, tomorrow afternoon you’ll have lunch with the client in ‘Harries Genot’, just around the corner from your flat.” She gives me the file with drawings and I watch her long legs in skinny jeans leave my room.
At the end of the afternoon a whatsappje from Joan with an address, 20:00 and a selfie from her duck face. Mhmmm, sweetheart she is, I close my eyes and think of her cunt.
The address leads to a large manor farm in the woods outside the town. Beautiful nineteenth century front house, behind it an enormous barn with a steep, high blue tiled roof on three sides. Front door in the middle, behind it a hall with monumental staircase, left and right large rooms and a large kitchen, upstairs four bedrooms. Barred windows give light to the cellars below. A swimming pool in the garden, surrounded by dense woodland, twinkles in the late sunlight.
Ascending the three steps, the door is opened in front of me and I stand in front of a beautiful woman, petite figure, about 40 years old, raven black, wavy hair over her shoulders, steel blue eyes, lily white complexity, in an A-line dress, her bosom pushed up, leather flip flops, black lacquered nails. “Joy”, she gives me one hand and puts the other one on top.
We enter the big upstairs room and I stand in front of a tapestry knotted with sisal and hemp. Suddenly I recognise it as a big pussy with free hanging labia from the clit cap, vividly undulating and with depth through all the tanning of the material.
” A Magdalena Abakanowicz?”
“No, almost. It was knotted by Monique, who was one of her students in Potznan in the 70s” she says.
We take a seat and I tell her about my relationship with Ferdy. She asks me a hundred questions about my past and more directly about my preferences in sex -bi, twinks, kids, milfs, top or bottom- but also how many times a week I enjoy myself, on my own, do I spray or dribble. Intimate, but what have I to hide?
Then she sits next to me and puts an arm around me, asking me about Laura and my black mourning period. I feel safe in her arms -unexpected with someone I have only known for half an hour- and tell her how happy we were together and how hard my decision was, to let her go. I showed my darkest spots of my soul to Joy and how I tried to live there. My struggle to get back to ‘normal’ functioning and not to stuck into the past, but up and go into the future …
“Can we share this with you and make it bearable, now you miss your two girlfriends? Because that is what our circle stands for, love, affection and warmth. Celebrate with our bodies that we are together, for each other and in each other”. I swallow for a moment and feel warm inside. She kisses me softly on my lips and pulls my head on her bosom, while my shoulders shake from crying…
We have a drink and she starts explaining. “The circle of Aphrodite is for friends, who not only fuck each other recreationally or love each other intensely, but also help and assist in everything that comes our way. The oldest is well into his seventies, the youngest are their teenagers from the age of 16. We reach the magic number of 66 with the couples, children are the extra fruits of our love.
There are regular celebrations, here in the temple. We follow a strict ritual with described holy acts, prayers and chants. They are a wink to holy and obscene texts of all denominations. Kind of wicca, though.
Of course there is the obligate fidelity to the circle and absolute silence to the outside, but there is also the obvious ban on unprotected sex outside the group. Our body is a temple, no tattoos or piercings, botox or silicones, long pubes hair can be groomed, but not shaved away. No drugs, that only causes deception and sadness, no smoking – if that works – and in moderation with alcohol. You do get a lot of sex in return, without inhibitions, with respect for each other’s limits”.
I nod and quickly realise that I have no problems with this club. My head and my heart say yes! “But why me? I come from elsewhere, I have one old friend here and I’m just starting to work, here. What do I bring you to invite me?”
“She smiles mysteriously.
Then she grabs both my hands, looks me deep in the eyes and whispers softly the first lines of the Charge of the Goddess: [ii]
Listen to the words of the Great Mother, Who of old was called Artemis, Astarte, Dione, Melusine, Aphrodite, Cerridwen, Diana, Arionrhod, Brigid, and by many other names:
Whenever you have need of anything, once a month, and better it be when the moon is full, you shall assemble in some secret place and adore the spirit of Me Who is Queen of all the Wise.
You shall be free from slavery, and as a sign that you be free you shall be naked in your rites.
Sing, feast, dance, make music and love, all in My Presence, for Mine is the ecstasy of the spirit and Mine also is joy on earth.
For My law is love is unto all beings. Mine is the secret that opens the door of youth, and Mine is the cup of wine of life that is the cauldron of Cerridwen, that is the holy grail of immortality.
Listen to the words of the Great Mother, who used to be called Artemis, Astarte, Dione, Melusine, Aphrodite, Cerridwen, Diana, Arionrhod, Brigid and many other names:
When you insist, once a month, preferably when the moon is full, you will gather in a secret place and worship the spirit of Me, the Queen of All Wise Men.
You will be free from slavery, and as a sign that you are free, you will be naked in your rites.
Sing, party, dance, make music and love, all in My Presence, for Mine is the ecstasy of the spirit and Mine is also the joy on earth.
For My law is love for all beings. Mine is the secret that opens the door of youth, and mine is the cup of wine of life from the cauldron of Cerridwen, the holy grail of immortality.
“I’ll show you the temple” she says and we get up. She turns towards me and feels me with two hands in my crotch. “You’re in the mood” she says and kisses me full on the mouth. She grabs my hands and puts them on her breasts while looking me deep in the eyes.
“Do you really want us?”
“Yes, I want” I promise.
We go through a door in the upstairs room, several steps down into the large haymow, now furnished as a temple hall, the triclinium. In the middle of the space of 14 to 18 m stands the usual table construction, which carries the roof on four legs in a square of 5 to 7m. Between them at a height of 3,5m a glass ceiling, “where the naked angels play” she smiles.
On the high beams of that floor are spells in golden letters:
‘ubi caritas et amor gaudens ibi est‘ “I understand what she means by a wink at existing rituals. ‘where there is affection and love, there is an orgasm close at hand’ Do you also do the foot-washing?” She nods. “And we go higher too.”
‘modus amandi est amare sine modo’ “Augustine knew it, ‘the way of loving is loving without measure'” I boast about my knowledge of the classics.
‘pueri puerilia tractant’ “‘boys are boys and do what they always do’ I do not understand.”
“Soon you will also be one of the boys, and you will know it” Joy grins falsely.
The triclinium has 3 clinia, play beds of 5×2 meter with a backrest of one meter wide. They are placed on 3 sides between the columns. The fourth side, under the table construction, has a stage of 4 by 4 m with two steps all around, the altar, on top of it the altar table and a tilting andreas cross.
On the wall behind it a painting of the goddess of fertility with all those spraying breasts.
There are many small cameras mounted, from top, side and bottom, close at leg height in strategic places. On the large screens, which I see everywhere, the community -the comitae- can follow all the action in detail, even if some seed still needs to be wiped off the lens, Joy admits.
We go through a double door into the old cowshed. It’s the bathing room, baptistery. In the old profile of high, where the cows stood, deep manure gutter and low walkway, the manure gutter has been widened to a 10 meter long, one meter wide shower tray with sprinklers from above and the side. Toilets and bidets on the higher part against the outside wall. I can picture the possibilities of water play and group penetration in front of me.
On the long inner wall a panel painted by Paul, Monique’s husband. I recognise ‘La Primavera’ by Botticelli, but then all the people are undressed, only Mercury does not pay attention and still has his red rag on. Venus too has only her red canvas more or less for her pregnant belly. The ripe plums in the trees have recognizable pussies, some with swollen lips, others with a black tanga. That’s why Mercury is pricking with a stick.
A cold shiver goes down my spine, Venus has my mother’s youthful face! Mercury, my father, looks away, as if he has already done his work. “And she’s pregnant with you.” She lovingly caresses Venus’ belly and my hair. “See, you were always here with us! You just had to be born, then there and also here, later. Welcome home” and again she takes me trembling in her arms. Emotions, emotions.
We go back to the triclinium and she leads me to the altar table for my answer. Her dress falls off and she stands in her divine nakedness in front of me.
She holds her full breasts up in front of me “Do you bite the apple or do you strangle the snake?”
“I lick your apples and you kiss my snake! Yes! I say yes!”
I shimmy out of my clothes and take her in my arms in a heartfelt kiss. I press her full breasts flat, between us, our bellies caress each other and my rod tries to enter her navel. Our hands knead on each other’s buttocks and feel the crevice until we can go into an opening with a finger.
I just take a breath, “I want you!”
“Come to worship the goddess and give her your flowing essence, deep in my sheath!”
She stretches on the altar table and spreads her legs wide. I see her vulva for the first time, the entrance to Aphrodite’s cave…. Her full hairy hill, beautiful outer lips and fleshy inner lips, bigger than I ever tasted, lure me. Carefully I go outside, inside and stroke it with my finger. I tickle through her black curly hair and caress her with my eyes. I go very close and admire all the shades of pink in her undulations. I smell her excitement and finger in the smoothness of her scabbard. Suddenly I thrust an index finger deep into her. “ah”
That finger, now smooth from her juices, goes in search of her pleasure button, still so deeply hidden in her petals.
Then I put my mouth on her vulva and kiss her every inch. My tongue, secretly between my lips, does soft, sharp studding licks with its tip, until we reach the top in her woman’s vestibule. There clit and tongue romp long and intimate, while two thumbs accustom her scabbard to what is about to come. She sighs “the goddess descends into us” and starts moving her mons veneris, hips and thighs randomly, she orgasms furiously for me.
Yes, the goddess gives us nectar to drink and with my wet face I look up and see the ecstasy still furrow over her face. Ther’s nothing more beautiful in creation than a woman in full orgasm!
Soft kisses on her inner lips bring her slowly back to earth.
I arise, raise my hands to heaven and put my rod in front of her scabbard. “Aphrodite for Priapus” she shouts loudly and I punch deep inside her, pull back, punch again and shout “Priapus for Aphrodite”, Again I pull back, punch in. “Priapus in Aphrodite” together now.
And when finally my being slips into hers, over and over again, she sighs “the goddess will reward us” and we start the ancient dance to ecstasy. We lay our palms against each other and go in an ever higher rhythm, then lower and fast again, until we obey the goddess and surrender to the zenith of sacrifice. Seven streams of seed, 12 grips of her kegels. “For Aphrodite!”
This was much more than orgasming together: it was being touched by the goddess, like a sacrifice on the altar, graciously accepted and rewarded.
I reach out to her one hand and she stands up, scoops our juices between her thighs with the other hand and spread them out over her pubes and mine. “Blissful coitus” she wishes me.
I finger a hard nipple “I forgot to worship these rubies, I hope the goddess forgives me…”
Trio with Philip
Joy and I are sitting glowing on a black leather sofa. “Just practical”she says, “leaking pussies and dripping dicks give awkward stains.”
“I have to show you something, give me your right hand” On our handshake she places her left hand. “If the thumb goes between the two hands, it’s clear you’re circle members.”
She grabs a small packet from behind the backrest “This is your permanent contact with our circle” She puts a smartwatch around my wrist “you get messages and calls and can see if there are any members nearby. During meetings, the excitement of you and your partners is measured. Statistics how often you edge or ejaculate and with whom and what you do, the times you spray and the seed volume, the afterglow and recovery time.
In the latest upgrade, the proximity of hands and noble parts has also been added, even without direct touch, because in an orgy you quickly lose the count of such delightful details and this way you can reminisce”.
She taps it on and the borromean rings light up. She connects to the big screen opposite us “in the temple and other sacred places this activates cameras at important moments”.
On the screen I see me entering Joy’s pussy, our worship and injecting myself up close into ecstasy. I can even see the bottom of my rod pulsing!
“Feel me looked at, spied on, like this.”
“No, you decide with whom you share images, your statistics are only publicly available to a limited extent. Oh, look, Philip is getting close” The smartwatch gives a gentle vibration and his name in purple red. “He’s horny as hell, means that colour.”
A gorgeous boy of 17, underbelly-weaking beautiful, comes into the room “Hey Mom, is this Ben? “(How does he know?) does a duckface to me, stands in front of his mother and presses his crotch against her nose. “Mmmm lots of sex I smell” she mumbles.
On my horny greedy look, Joy says “He is a likeness of his father Felix and has the sexual power of the Walpurgis Night in which he was conceived. Wait until you lie between the two of them. They’re turning you inside out! “
He pulls his shirt over his head and a nicely trained body with six-pack makes my lazy little pendulum stand up.
He gives me the handshake, “Unpack me” He stands right in front of me and I loosen his belt. His buttondown makes me feel his hard sex through the thin fabric as I release him. Stubborn sex smell, they should sell them in a bottle… I can smell his fuckin’ juice soaked triangle and rod from a distance.
Raven black hair, page cut, powerful jaws, luminescent blue, piercing eyes, a classic marble statue, hairless except for the thin treasure trail from his pecs to his full, black pubes. Tight rod up to his navel and velvety bag of large balls come from a neat bunch of black curls.
He sits down on my knees and slides up until our balls touch and looks into mine with his grey-blue eyes. Our rods begin an embrace.
He puts his head on my shoulder “I pushed my cock in luck tonight. Was practising with Rik Priapeia 48 [v], as Mummy had asked me, when his sister Trudie came in. Just home from university for a few days, she needed a good work-out. I shoved into her cave and Rik took her from behind. Was his first time, do you believe that, Mum? They normally don’t do anal in their family. We’ve vehemently sprayed into her, changed and filled her up again, she kept coming between us.”
“Show Ben the adoration prayer to Priapus, he is just a suppliant” He lifts his head off my shoulder, shakes his dark mane, “For this I must taste your soul” and puts his lips on mine. Face to face we go tongue to tongue until we have no breath left.
“Kneel and kiss my glans” I give it a chaste kiss, my lips are smooth from its preseed. He pulls me up straight on my shoulders, puts his knees against mine, his cock against mine and our lips touch. A strange calm comes over me as he hums softly and mumbles a text. Then he puts his hands against my shoulders, pushes me backwards “Come Aphrodite, Priapus is ready to receive you”.
Joy steps between us and I can feel her low lips touching our glands pressed together by my hand. Slowly she takes our rods together deep into her cave. She turns towards me and puts a nipple on my mouth.
The peaceful feeling takes hold of me, I am just the tip of my glans, see Philip’s seed slit open and close and expect his warm seed to pop out so violently at any moment.
I don’t know how long we were so ecstatic, here kegels gently began to stimulate our rods in a steady rhythm, faster and faster to our irreversible point of orgasmic excitement. I squirt and feel him squirting, I throb and feel him pulsing, trapped by contracting pussy muscles. This is true worship….
Tuesday 13 June
Awesome! I enter this restaurant, the taproom -this old term fits here- has an art-Deco interior with the sultry appearance of Brussels in the 1910s!
Manet’s ‘Déjeuner sur l’ Herbe’ on a free wall, room high. When I was 10 years old I already got a stylistic version of that print. Oh, those art books of my father were a pleasure!
Properly in style, thonet chairs and tables, inlaid parquet floor, curly chandeliers, Horta could have designed it. The back wall in vertical bead planking, earth-grey-green coloured, as befits the period, with two double panel doors that open to alcoves. ‘Joy’ and ‘Pleasure’ are written above it in art-deco letters. Something like that makes my heart leap in joy .
Harry comes up to me and gives me the handshake (why doesn’t that surprise me?) “your appointment is in ‘joy’. If your meeting goes wrong we also have a broom closet called ‘sadness'” he grins.
He leads me to the plush chairs (‘trijp’ my grandmother called that), slides me in and an 18-year-old boy enters in a white singlet and a dark red apron. Beautiful, tanned boy! He puts a smoothie in front of me, while Harry introduces him as Jason, our waiter. With a horny smile he turns around and walks out of the alcove, I see his bare buttocks and legs between the flaps of the long apron, mmmhmm, it’s getting interesting here.
Moments later Joy is standing in the doorway and on my surprised look she says with a devious smile “I’m your client, I’m here for work, not to fuck”. Harry closes the doors behind her, grinning audibly. Her outfit fits the spirit of the times, a headband with a feather, a blouse that shows off her cleavage completely and a half bra that pushes her full breasts. Pencil skirt with a split on the left side to her panties, if she is wearing them at all.
Jason comes in with a martini with olive in classic cone glasses. He turns to me and asks “everything to your liking? I see Joy’s hand disappear inside his apron and notice some movement at the level of his balls. That horny grin again….
“Stay a while, you have such nice balls. What are you feeding us today? “
“Mussels cooked in champagne, they will have died partying. Bowl full of pussies, that’s what you makes you hornied up. Garlic-, ravigotte-, tartare-, whisky- and mustard sauce.”
“You know how to sell them, horny bear, surprise us” and she pinches him in the balls “Ouch, that’s a yes? ” we nod.
A girl, also in white singlet, which is supposed to keep her bosom in check -not- and same long apron, comes to the table and lays the cutlery “hey Sandra, this is Ben, our architect”. She smiles seductively at me “smoakelijk eatn soamn” I check when she turns around. Yeah, naked, hot ass in her apron, a definite source of Harry’s pleasure…
Moments later, Jason and Sandra, both now without any aprons, T-shirts up to the navel bring in the bowls with the steaming mussels, champagne and four-compartment plates with sauces, fries, potato croquettes and puree roses. “The mussels left some champagne at their party. The sauces are: ravigotte, mustard and a recipe from Joan, which the chef had to give his best on, that’s why we took off the aprons” Jason chuckles, with his muscular body, sixpack accentuated by his tight shirt.
I am more interested in Sandra’s crevice. “ge mag magn eevn aain” [you can touch it a little] Well then, what should you do? Silky soft brown mat on top anda full set of lips below it, still dry. Chaste girl! I see Jason’s limp pendulum pulsing, going a few notches higher …..
Joy spreads her hands above the bowl of mussels “Aphrodite, bless these blissful pussies and give us lust and desire. Cumen.”
The horny smell and the delicate feeling of those mussel bodies on your tongue indeed makes me longing and tense, crotchwise, anyways.
Very businesslike Joy starts “you’ve seen the pictures of that building? It’s an old conference centre of a church community with a wing for a stay of 40 guests, a church hall and outbuildings. Pretty out of the ordinary, but it’s a well-contained area.
The idea is to offer prayer space to small circles nationwide. There are quite a few groups of 3 or 4 couples, who only have a bedroom for prayer and play. We have had them do a few celebrations with us, but that’s a bit crowded in our building.
Within the existing construction we need a dry and a wet temple area, like on our Temple, but bigger. The swimming pool needs to be covered by glass and the original communal areas need to be intimate and informal. The groups are self-catering, privacy dictating.
The sleeping accommodations you have to bring back to spacious family rooms with ensuite bathrooms. As far as I am concerned, the attic can become a playroom.
On the grounds near the lake I want a camping spot for groups, with swimming from the moorings, an outdoor kitchen, showers and toilets.
Go and have a look and come up with plans, I’m curious to see what you make of it”.
I nod and think that I can connect my creativity with my sexual fantasies, at last. That will be designing with a stiff rod and squirting a lot of seed into my panties. Fortunately no staining problems, we no longer draw on calc, but digitally.
Sandra comes to clean up the table, now her shirt off as well. “‘k vond het niet eerlik, min jongskes voor je te verstoppn.” [I didn’t think it was fair to hide my boys from you] She turns full around, “kunnn ze er meje deur?” [can they pass?]
“My rod was already standing, but now it expresses its harsh appreciation” I grin, while I let my hand caress her ass for a moment.
Jason, naked and beautiful, comes in with the desserts and explains “Negro pussy, two peach halves on raspberry ice cream, covered over the rounded side with congealed chocolate, mons of chocolate ice cream and like pubes a dark caramel tuile”. A dash of whipped cream hides the scabbard, I see. A cherry is subtly set aside.
“It’s a sin to eat it, so horny!” I say, gently spooning away the whipped cream. The scabbard is filled with cherry liquor, something heavenly must have happened, there…
Harry sits next to me at the table, strokes my thigh and feels my crotch. “Everything to your liking, then!” he observes.
“I want to make you a proposition for your household. You live next door and we can take care of you, keep your appartment clean, do your laundry, your catering. You must have something else on your mind than the supermarket and the hoover. Is that a proposition for you?
A sigh of relief escapes me. “That would be nice, I was rather worried about it. What do you mean by catering?”
“Room service. Breakfast in bed, lunch when you’re at home and also your dinner. If you have guests, the service will stay with you if you want it.
Besides the large menus we have a simple menu, according to season, something you would cook yourself. Winter stews, oven dishes and salads. But with the chef’s hand of Manuel.
Your fridge will remain filled with snacks and drinks. Cleaning and arrangening, that’s what happens when you’re not there”.
“You’ve got me! ” I say relieved, that I am going to be well taken care of.
“We communicate through your smartwatch, you indicate what you want to eat and so on, and we see when you’re at home, alone or in company”.
I look Joy straight in the eye “I think it’s all going very smoothly, it can’t be that much of a coincidence”.
“Isn’t it? Kees had wanted you as a senior for much longer and he heard that you were now available, Ferdy could vouch for you and we knew that you belonged to us from Paulus and Monique. Aldo found out that you don’t have a zoo in your panties or in your blood and I loved fucking you. Why not giving your body and love to us? Immerse yourself in our circle and enjoy, En-Joy!”
“Paulus?! Because he once painted my parents?”
“Something like that, yes. You are now entering the visitation round of seven meetings. in these you will get to know our style of interaction and a number of members. You will be tested on important characteristics of body and mind and when you have enjoyed all that, we will celebrate your rebirth. Curious? She sticks out her tongue to me and laughs horny.
When we leave, I kiss Joy (well, a stroke on her bare ass, hand in her split is okay, right?) and I get the handshake from Harry and also from Jason and Sandra, now neatly dressed again. The world is small and my dick is big, I guess.
Evening on the couch
When I come home in the evening I see that Harry has worked on it: fresh, hoovered and mopped. A few bouquets, modest but artistic, show a woman’s hand. Beautiful, Belgian beers in the fridge and glasses in the freezer, perfect! My bed has clean sheets, lavender blue with a discreet guest towel in the same colour on the pillow. For after jerking off…
After a shower and in shorts on the couch, my smartwatch buzzes and gives the options of my dinner on the big screen. I choose a stifado, Greek stew, lamb with pearl onions and cinnamon. Jug of mavrodafni, sweet and full, new potatoes in the skin and some fragrant tomatoes.
Jason brings it to me, covers, serves, scoops up and with the smell I am suddenly back on a sunny terrace in Evritza. But Laura is not there ….
Jason goes with his hand through my hair “Stay with us, memories are to enjoy like expensive wine. Too much gives a headache and shame of the pennies” he grins with his beautiful mouth, a bit greek.
“Dessert in the fridge, simple, you’ve already had a negress-pussy this afternoon. Put the dishes on the sink, Fran will do it tomorrow. And, if you leave the kitchen door open, your breakfast will be put to your bedside”.
With a kiss on my forehead he goes out the door, while I look at the rocking buttocks in his too tight jeans. Off, my little one in your cotton straitjacket, off…
My penthouse is a succession of spaces, few doors, mainly openings from one play area to another. You don’t look directly into the sitting area, sleeping area or workplace, because walls strategically divide the spaces. With a faintly sloping roof and a grey-green slate floor, all 170 square metres are entirely suitable for me. And also the roof terrace of 60 m2.
It is a project by Kees, two shops, four 3-room, four 2-room apartments and a penthouse on the corner of a shopping street with an adjoining car park of 200 spaces under the park at the back. We park in our cellar in an enclosed area.
A round glass lift takes you upstairs, the glass roof of the upper hall lcovers the one-way-view glass entrance of my flat.
Hall with on the left the kitchen and the gym and dressing room, continuously leading to the workplace; the kitchen has a door to the hall and a back door to the stairwell, so – if desired – I am not disturbed by the service. On the right is a passage to the toilet, sleeping area and bath area, separated by electrochrome glass walls. From my bed (2.80 by 3.60 !) you have a full view of showers and baths and other water games. From the toilet and from the living area you look into the shower and vice versa. Privacy, why?
The joke of electrochrome glass walls and roofs is that in my home automation app I can control the degree of transparency, from transparent to diffuse. That’s fine, both for too much sunlight and spying…. The smartTV images are projected onto a number of these walls. The glass front doors are arranged in such a way that you are never seen from the hallway, which is important if you are walking in your nude self. And a lot more home automation, gadgets such as iris scan access, automatic closing of the sliding doors and glass diffusing when nobody is in the house.
The seating area of 10 by 6 m has glass on two sides up to the ceiling, sliding open to the roof terrace with fireplace and under a glazed roof the jacuzzi. Along the front facade you also enter the workplace with librarywall and desk with drawing table, nowadays only used to lay out drawings.
The seating area has a long, narrow table with 8 chairs, a piano, which I can’t do anything with, an eight-seater, semi-circular sofa by the fireplace with a play mat and a round play bed, looking out over the city and the sunset.
I lie on my belly on the play bed watching that sunset and carelessly put on a playlist of quiet music on spotify. Gently, so as not to break my bubble. For a while my thoughts float with the melody until I fall asleep.
I wake up shaking and squirting on my nipples, laying on my back and hear “Baïlèro lèro, lèro, lèro, baïlèro, lô!” and know that Laura was riding me in my dreams. I can still feel her sitting on my thighs and holding me with her kegels. When I keep my eyes closed, she stays for a while,I wish. Stay! And yet she is forever on the other side of the river and only comes to me in my dreams:
|Pastré couci foraï,||shepherd, the water separates us|
|En obal io lou bel riou!||and I cannot cross it|
|Espèromè, tè, baô çirca,||Then I’ll come to you and find you]|
De Baïlèro ( [vii]) was her favourite background playing with us since we read and played the ‘fifty shades’ together. Pavlov is in this music and in her perfumes, where else?
It does not contribute to my mood. Post coitum omne animal triste, sive gallus et mulier’ I think with Ovid [after making love, every beast is sad, both cock and hen], and weep thick tears, about I lost her. Eventually I have to laugh, splotches of seed on my belly and hot tears on my cheeks, looking over the city in my nakedness…
These hectic days have taken me out of my melancholic comfort zone, and crazy, I suddenly don’t feel so alone anymore. I am taken care of, I can concentrate on my projects, I meet friends who welcome me openly and want to play with me. I have to get used to it again. And now my little soul to accustom to that …..
Later, in my bed, I lose myself in a fantasy, which I already had this afternoon, Jason and Sandra. She has that sexy accent from behind Ghent, where the villages are called ‘-gem’ or ‘-kerke’. Maybe that’s sexy trough Rosie, who I once had fucked hard and who once again me ‘batste’ in western Flemish?
In the darkness of my eyelids I let them enter my fantasy: drowsy they step out of the bathroom, languid from bathing. “Kom jitn bèèr, batske doen” [come pretty boy, fuck now] she says and lies down on the bed so that I can look straight into her pleasure.
Jason kneels over her “aste blief, keun” [ok now, nice piece of mine] and starts to kiss her softly and caress her whole body with his fingers. His sex wobbles back and forth and grows slowly. She waits for him to stand and between her thumb and forefinger she pulls open his foreskin, fingers his glans and starts pulling it off rhythmically with her fingertips. His third eye winks at me and cries tears….
Voyaging in your dreams shows details so much better than a porn camera can ever achieve. You’re the tip of his tongue in her vagina, her nipple when he kisses and sucks, you ride in on his glans when the hard fucking starts, you’re her orgasm and his squirting seed, you pulse like cock, deep in her vagina.
And so I lie there looking at them as they merge into each other and build up their lust. He rams into her, they go wild and then 69, softly kissing, licking and sucking. Back together again, now tender and slow, kissing deeply.
They roll over and she rides him. I can see his balls pulling up, feel her kegels holding him, and yet they go in and out, more and more eagerly… I go along with them and squirt, when they come together …..
At about five o’clock I wake up, dreaming of those two in my bed just now, hard and tight, my foreskin still smooth and full of seed, ready to come again. I gently jerk myself off and fall sleep again.
When I wake up, breakfast is already served, fresh pistolets, soft butter, thick slices of ham, Belgian abbey cheese and blueberry jam. All I have to do is tap my coffee.
Casually in a checkered shirt and skinny jeans, Nikes, I put on my leather biker’s jacket and leave things as they are. I just don’t know what Fran is going to think of those hard-dried guest towels, well, three times worth in it…
[i] Meggie Dirks, 1972 “Witte 9”, Textielmuseum Brabant
[ii] Charge of the Goddess Traditional by Doreen Valiente, as adapted by Starhawk