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The Pool
by  Pierre Beaudoin


"And what did you want to see him about?" asks Vincent's mother, and I feel like answering, "It's about his cock, ma'am, I need to suck it as soon as possible."
Hervé Guibert  from  Fou de Vincent

Day One: Discovery

But who is that animal I see, on the swimming pool construction site? He stands out from the rest of the workers! How long has he been there? Why didn't I notice him before? Where was he hiding? What a discovery! It makes me so happy! I wonder how long he'll be working there. I think he's the welder's assistant. My heart's already melting. I'm trying to get a better look at his body. His small, sturdy build is so impressive. And his Greek profile gives him a certain grace. The grace of a god! How hip he is with his close-shaven head, white T-shirt, faded jeans. With his rough and exaggerated gestures, he seems to want to compensate for his elegant form. So fragile. And yet so masculine. Suddenly I begin to see these renovations, which I so detested, from another perspective. That of a voyeur. The afternoon is now drawing to a close, and I finally have time to sit back down on my balcony and spy on the young man who has invaded my thoughts since early morning. I cast stealthy glances towards the pool, hoping to see him one last time before he finishes for the day. I need to see him one last time. He'll stir the fire of my dreams. There he is, coming around the corner, wearing a pair of safety glasses that accentuate his beauty. Afraid he'll see me, I can scarcely bring myself to look in his direction. He must not know I'm spying on him. It's my secret. And yet I have only one desire: to go out on the sidewalk, look him straight in the eye and say, "Come on up, take your clothes off, come here and let me hurt you." How could I confess such a thing to him? It's impossible. I'm much too timid. I'll just keep the fantasy for myself. Bury the passion that he's ignited deep within me.

Day Two: Passion

Saturday morning, 7:30 a.m. I'm eating breakfast. His dilapidated van whizzes by. I feel the "man" behind the wheel of this broken-down machine. He dashes towards the site, obviously late for work. Where was he last night? Friday night. Was he at the tavern with his buddies, making gross jokes about women? Or was he at the sauna having his cock and ass devoured? I like that scenario, it's consoling. But I'm so afraid of shocking him that I'll never be able speak to him. Never. And yet it also excites me to imagine him at the tavern with the boys. I gather up all my courage, try to pick him up-right in front of his co- workers. Just to unsettle him, confuse him. Make him want to go to the sauna next Friday. Can you detect anything from my third-floor gaze? Do you see the passion that's flaming inside me? That betrys me? No, I shouldn't betray myself. It's only a game we're playing. And you're playing your role just fine. We're having fun. You're my toy. My tasty treat perhaps. I watch you working and your strength leaves me spellbound. It hurts me. So small. So strong. I wonder if you have a big cock. I prefer them small. And very firm. Very hard with soft fleshy little balls. Malleable. Your butt seem nice and round beneath your jeans. So firm. And yet soft like a baby's. I could be your Daddy for an evening. Just one. Why not? You won't regret it. I'm fond of children. I'll pamper you endlessly.

Day Three: Disappointment

I finally heard him speak. A few words. His coarse voice grates on my ears. Grates on my heart. What a disappointment!

Day Four: Anguish

I hardly dare sit on the balcony. It hurts to see his body. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the suffering he's inflicting on me. The pain that gnaws away at me, shoots right through me. It's now an open wound, searing my entire body, a body mutilated by his inaccessibility. I try to calm my fears, transform them into pleasure, soothe this throbbing pain. I've got to compose myself, enjoy the pleasure of looking. Somehow, I must find deliverance from this agony, find a state of grace to calm my tortured soul. I refuse to let him see me in this state. I refuse to go back to the balcony. I refuse to leave my apartment.

Day Five: Boredom

My soul yearns for him. My soul is being purged. My soul suffers the pangs of withdrawal. My soul quivers with desire. My soul misses him. My soul is sobbing. The day is so grey. He will not come.

Day Six: Jealousy

I saw you with your co-workers today, coming back from the restaurant. It made me feel sad. I wish I could find a way of preventing you from ever doing that again. I could have gone with you to eat. But you always have to go with them. I wish we could share that same kind of intimacy. To sit face to face, alone, while discovering each other. I hate your co-workers. They annoy me beyond all measure. I must find a way to pry you away from them. To keep you for myself. You are my desire incarnate. My fantasy. I want you entirely. Unendingly. Without barriers. Without limits. You are mine since the day I discovered you. It's the law of unquenchable desire. Those who interfere with this love must be exposed for the hateful creatures they are. Banished. I cry. I pray that this love will endure, that you will be mine forever. You, my cruel tormentor.

Day Seven: Waiting

Where are you, my young man? I miss your presence. I'm looking for you by the pool but you're not there. Where are you? Will you ever come back? I really hope so. It's impossible that you left without warning. Without some kind of sign. You know I've been watching you non-stop from my balcony. You must have known about my stratagem, my sinister scheme. My day seems so ordinary without your distant presence. The renovation work is of no interest to me-it's you who gives my day its meaning, its sparkle. Who give it life with your beauty, so raw, so primitive. I'm dying to take it within my hands, to caress it. Your beauty shatters my soul, blesses my heart. Relief at last. I see the grey truck in the distance. It's theirs all right. I must get closer to the pool. To see you. To mend my broken soul. Which I taint by watching you, yet appease my heart again. I come closer and finally see you. You're straining to move a large metal rod. I want to be that rod. I want to feel you straining to lift me up, to transport me. In your arms. Feel the force of your arms against my skin. Feel your muscles contracting from the weight of my body. Feel your gaze as it pierces my body, which writhes in agony from this savage love. You lay down the rod and I pass in front of you, without looking at you. I must not alarm you. And you shouldn't discover my ruse. I must gently coax you, instill a climate of confidence. Tame you, subdue you. My lost little dog. I could adopt you and you'd lick me all over. Your drooling saliva would moisten my entire body. I would lose myself in your canine affection. You could devour me with your big sharp teeth, bite into my skin, into my burning desire.

Day Eight: Gaze

I'm sure I glimpsed you tonight in the métro. I tried not to stare, in case it wasn't you. It's the first time I've been able to see you so closely. I looked at you out of the corner of my eye and… you noticed. You dared not stare, but you noticed, you knew what was happening. Your strong smell of perspiration left me weak. I pictured your skin streaming with sweat and my mind plunged into a cascade of perverse thoughts. I felt a gentle euphoria rising from within me. My mouth could taste your masculinity, feel your testosterone level. I want to feel my pulse pounding. Intoxicated myself with your scent. Get drunk on it.

Day Nine: Torture

I hesitate. My heart tells me to run towards the pool, to go right up to him and rattle him with a penetrating, disarming stare. But I just can't bring myself to do it. And yet the desire to be closer to him is urgent. An absolute emergency.. I'm incapable of leaving the balcony. I have to watch him constantly, afraid it's his last day. I have a premonition that he's going to leave soon. The welding work seems almost over. I want to see him up close, in detail. I want him to feel me watching him from my balcony. I feel no more constraints. Look at me! I'm here, waiting. I think he just looked in my direction. Subtle. I understand: his co-workers must not notice. They're construction workers, after all. Be discreet and look at me peripherally. I'm here. And here I'll stay. I yearn for you. I want to share my balcony with you. I want to hear your rasping animal voice rip through my entire body. Feel the blood rise gently to the surface of my skin. Feel my body transfixed by the coarseness of your powerful hands, hands that are reluctant to caress my skin. I can feel the tremors of your nervousness. I want to satisfy your carnal needs which infect my body and soul. The putrefaction of desire will fulfill my fantasy. I will yield to the cancer of our clandestine union. We will share in the corruption bred by our evil deeds. I beg you, look at me!

Day Ten: Ecstasy

You just walked into the chemical toilet outside and I imagine you pissing. No, I'd rather imagine you shitting. You're half-naked with your pants and underwear around your ankles. I like that image. Suddenly I see you so vulnerable inside that little closet. I would like my tongue to be the toilet paper that wipes your ass. I could run my tongue inside your crack, searching for your enticing hole. My tongue would caress and cleanse it deeply, before slipping into you ever so slowly, arousing within you an irresistible need to masturbate. It would gently tickle your prostrate, giving you a beautiful and spontaneous erection and premature ejaculation. Your ass would tighten and short gasps would escape from your wide-open mouth. Coming down from this height of ecstasy, as reality sets in, you react uneasily to this sudden sexual explosion. You seem to be struggling with your need to experience it again. You wipe your hands with several pieces of toilet paper and calmly pull your pants and underwear back up. Serenely, you walk out of the toilet, displaying no trace of the sublime pleasure that has just swept over you. Your feeling of calm gives way to extreme joy. When you're back on the site I secretly watch you again, wishing you were aware of the magic spell I cast upon you.

Day Eleven: Leaving

A sad day, today. He's getting ready to leave the site for good. It's the end of the construction. My eyes are riveted on him. He's provoking me. He's walking around without his T-shirt and I can finally glimpse a bit of skin. The sight of this fragment of flesh leaves me enraptured. I'm brimming with joy. This is my parting gift. He's finally offering himself to me. My desire for him is unleashed. He's showing off his small, compact body. His shoulders mesmerize me. Tempt me. His bare torso is so delicate. His fragility, now hardened by physical labour, astounds me. It fills me with a desire to run my hands over it. To hold on to it tightly, passionately. To make it mine. Forever.  © hotskin productions 2001