What would Teishi Hiro have written, Johann wonders in petto?
A coquet fart of joy
Welcomed my entry
With giggling
Johann and Ursula. Tongue or lips / whatever is she doing / with my dick? Johann wonders, quoting our now familiar poet. The answer is “lips.” Then, once again, Ursula presses the canister of whipped cream (0 % fat content) and sprays snowy spirals around his penis. And, once more, she licks him, swallows the cream, and her tongue slithers as far as his testicles, before she cautiously sucks one of them, then the other. She’d like him to come quite fast, because this is starting to make her feel a tad nauseous.
Does Johann know that the Google search engine features 2,890,000 pages containing the word “fellatio,” including one in which it is (mistakenly) presented as a character in Shakespeare?
Ursula and Farid. On the flat 16/9 screen, a visibly excited male octopus is sliding its hectocotyle tentacle full of spermatophores into the palleal cavity of a half-consenting female. The television is opposite the double bed on which Farid, in company with Ursula, is carrying out a rather similar act, except that he has no intention at all of propagating his species. Ursula has lost her concentration, and cannot drag herself away from the commentary of the wildlife documentary.
She says to herself that, when you think about it, the design of the new pedestrian precinct is really rather nice.
Farid and Qiu. The camper has been parked on a dirt track, in the middle of some scrubland. Its bodywork seems to be shimmering in the hot air. On the lower bunk, Farid, chest against Qiu’s back, lubricates his member with a knob of pink jelly before trying to penetrate her youthful anus. Are you sure you really want this? he asks again. Panting, she nods. Her skin smells of chloride and musk. When you’re a pretty girl, Farid says to himself, then life is a bed of roses. At the same moment, Qiu is thinking the exact opposite.
A silly thought crosses his mind. This lubricant cream must surely have been tested on animals. If so, in what way?
Qiu and Ben. One little rectangle is still lit up and yellow in the facade of a cheap “Formule Un” hotel. In bedroom 215, the average calorie expenditure of a quarter of an hour’s lovemaking (seventy kcal) has been greatly exceeded. For almost half an hour, Qiu has had her supple thighs spread high in the air, while Ben has been entering her at a regular pace, performing what an observer might see as pull-ups. Qiu’s vagina has been burning sweetly for some time when Ben comes and finally collapses onto her.
Although overcome by emotion (so to speak), Qiu is suffocating beneath Ben’s weight and wonders if she will admit it right away or manage to wait a few seconds.
Ben and Mina. In the vast dressing room of a second-floor bedroom, Ben’s dinner suit trousers are round his knees as he leans against the wall. He’s lifted up Mina’s slight form, while her red lamé dress has been raised to her waist, thus revealing her hips. She entwines Ben in her arms and muscular thighs, and gently draws him in, propping her tiny buttocks on his powerful hands. “You Took Advantage of Me,” played by Art Tatum, rises up from the first floor and paces this slow penetration. Later, they will ask for each other’s first names again.
If she could quote Mark Twain, Mina would say that she has this much in common with Eve: going with the first man she claps eyes on.
Mina and Xavier. Act II of Tosca has barely started: Cavaradossi (Vincent Balmer, not at his best), tortured but thrilled by Napoleon’s victory at Marengo, is chanting a hymn to liberty. In the darkness of a box, stage left, Mina is squeezing Xavier’s stiff penis tightly, uncovering then covering his glans again and again. In a fit of inspiration, she slips his member into her glove and keeps up her toing and froing. Groaning, Xavier ejaculates into the leather and silk just as Tosca (Rose Singer, heartrending with emotion) stabs the ignoble Scarpia (Giovanni d’Arezzo, extraordinary, as ever).
Xavier wonders if they will be on first name terms as of now.
Xavier and Irma. Damn it and damn it again, Xavier just can’t get that song by the Frères Jacques out of his head, entitled “Buttocks,” which France-Culture broadcasted that morning: “There are fat ones / There are matte ones / There are black ones / There are slack ones / Buttocks, buttocks, buttocks.” He opens the waiting-room door, Irma stands up and, despite the protestations of the genuine patients, goes in, closes the bolt behind her, drops her woolen skirt, grabs Xavier’s hands and places them on her naked buttocks, just there. This has all taken ten seconds.
Yes indeed, Xavier thinks, my life has grown far simpler and my days more complicated since I met this girl.
Irma and Terence. Cunnilingus, then fellatio, then penetration, then orgasm (or not). . Terence thinks how right Foucault was: sexuality is quite monotonous. But as monotony and routine are not the same thing; today Terence just wants to stroke Irma off. He has dampened his middle finger with saliva to part her labia and is touching her gently and unhurriedly. He lays his head between her nipples erect, and listens to the beating of her heart. On the alert for an acceleration of her palpitations, he follows her orders, until she comes.
Oddly enough, he feels that they share most when he devotes himself just to her, and when they do not in fact make love.
Terence and Elvire. It could be a student’s bedroom: the mattress is on the floor, the sheets are creased, there are books scattered everywhere. Elvire has slipped beneath Terence, unbuckled his belt, lowered his trousers and boxer shorts, and is sucking his member, which is little by little filling her mouth. He lifts up her dress, parts her thighs, and his tongue licks a pussy he knows like the back of his hand. He elbows away a book. Unluckily, it falls open at page sixty-seven.
According to Leonardo de Vinci, a woman’s sex is proportionally three times larger than that of a cow. Fucking ridiculous, thinks Terence, proportional to what?
Elvire and Philippe. On a staircase in Rue des Saules in Montmartre, Elvire is explaining to Philippe, who is standing one step down from her, that the Kama Sutra distinguishes three types of kiss: nominal, moving, and touching. A nominal is just a simple kiss on the mouth. To demonstrate the moving one, Elvire presses Philippe’s lower lip between her lips and, while sucking on it, draws it into her mouth. Then, for the touching kiss, her tongue encounters Philippe’s lip, then she closes her eyes, and puts her two hands into his.
From nearby, “Philippe!” yells a woman who Philippe knows only too well, thus putting a stop to this demonstration.
Philippe and Anna. The forest is large and bleak. In the undergrowth, Philippe and Anna are lying on a blanket and making love. The weather is warm and fine. A niggling breeze starts to cool their naked buttocks. Philippe realizes that sex is probably like dancing the Charleston: when it’s really good, you just do it, without thinking about how you’re doing it.
After lovemaking, the first person who speaks always says something dumb. This time, it’s Philippe: “Anna, what was it you said again about the tiger and space?”
The stories
Stories with Anna
9, 34, 35, 60, 61, 86