Chapter 13 - Abused by a carnival man
Several months had passed and the winter was in no way less eventful than my "summer of love" had been - the word love, of course, fitting only loosely in this case. When summer turns into autumn in Paris, there are a few weeks of pleasant weather before the evenings become shorter and the temperature begins to drop. Winter can be cold and at times make the city quite unwelcoming -- at least for tourists visiting who want to walk the cobbled alleyways of Paris' Marais or Montmartre districts. My own focus has shifted away from these quintessentially Parisian, yet -- for me -- boringly bourgeois areas, and I had begun to appreciate the city for its diverse mix of communities and the burgeoning suburbs, which seemed to produce a healthy stream of men of all backgrounds, whose desires awaited satisfaction.
The character of the woods had also transformed with the change of season; summer saw impressive crowds of men gather in large groups in the undergrowth of the trees carrying out their mating rituals; looking for the perfect specimen they could either drag of to a distant corner or even have sex right in front of the crowd -- no doubt fulfilling for many of them their fetish for exhibitionism. The winter brought a much less intense scene, but one which I was personally more at ease with. Of course, the men came whatever the weather -- even at times when I wasn't sure if I would go due to rain or frost, there would still be men there. The crowds from summer were gone though. Occasionally, I might pass a small gathering of three or four men surrounding a cocksucker on all sides, but more usually I would come across men alone.
Although it might seem that this could be a hindrance to a productive night -- it often felt to me that the opposite were true. I suppose that, in a way, fewer crowds meant less competition. I was prone to avoid the crowds, even in the summer when I generally found lots of men equalled too much standing around and not very much sex. As I traipsed the well-worn, muddy paths in the cold of the winter, I discovered the men that I passed were more willing to slow down, took the time to assess the person crossing their path and finally, more often engaged in a short conversation to see if a match could be found.
There were certainly fewer 'regulars', and I found myself visiting the woods at more irregular intervals too so that I rarely saw the same guy more than once. Over the months, my tastes had begun to be ever more refined to a 'type'. I had long lost count or wouldn't even have been able to guess with any reasonable confidence the number of men I had sucked off over the past several months since my arrival in Paris. Equally I wouldn't have been able to say with any accuracy how many men had mounted me, and bred me in the forest at that time.
This meant that to some degree I was losing interest in what I would now consider a 'vanilla' guy. My walks and encounters would frequently present me with an opportunity to hook up, if I wanted to, but on sliding my hand down the trousers and into the pants of my latest potential suitor the resounding disappointment of feeling an average -- or even, god forbid, small -- penis was enough to turn me off the idea immediately. I now only hooked up with the well-hung or very well-hung, unless I was feeling particularly in need of being bred that evening. It had been a gradual progression and only a few months before it would have been embarrassing and more than a little awkward for me to admit such a thing, yet now -- more and more -- I was growing confident and forward in my own desires
Only sucking cock had gradually become somewhat mundane and no longer satisfied my desire to be a total cumwhore. Little by little, I had moved with greater frequency to seeking out men who wanted to fuck ass. I now usually went to the woods with one thing on my mind; getting my hole bred. I was so fixated on it, that some nights I would walk for hours along the same worn paths, staying out much later and longer than reasonable, knowing that I would be exhausted at work the following day, because I wouldn't feel fulfilled unless I left with a cumload in my hole. Often, on a good night, I would leave for home with more than one man's viscous juices buried deep inside my anus. The more that I did this, the more that I fed into the behaviour in my mind that my destiny was to be a cumdump for the men that came to these woods with a need to unload into any willing asshole. I felt that I was fulfilling my life's meaning. One of my self-imposed rules was that if I met a black, or Arabic, man who wanted to fuck, I could not refuse. My asshole was there for the use of these men, whether I was in the mood or not.
As had been the case now for some time, I had developed a routine on the nights that I felt horny for sex. My hole had to be clean and open for business. I ate and then would get under the shower, douching my hole for at least 30 minutes, until I was sure it was absolutely spotless. I would sit and drink a beer in front of the TV contemplating the night ahead, wondering who I might meet, how many guys I would be bred by and reminding myself that I was obliged to go there that night for the use of the men who needed their weekly release. Before leaving on this particular night, I rolled a small spliff, hoping it would help me to get even more in the mood. I packed my small, over-shoulder bag with a brand-new bottle of silicone lube, and a full bottle of Jungle Juice poppers. I had my tracksuit bottoms on, and I was ready to head out the door.
As I left the apartment and pulled the door closed, I already began to feel the haziness of the spliff I had smoked several minutes before. I put in my headphones and chose some music to allow my mind to float away as I walked to the woods. Nightfall was earlier now - as early as 7pm - so I could safely go out for a few hours of cruising even if I was working the following day. This was a Sunday night and I knew the woods would be busy. As I walked, my mind wondered and I passed men walking alone on the street too. My focus was fixated on their crotches as they passed me and I tried to imagine the shape and size of their genitals - hidden away, yet so close by. I wondered too if any of the ones whose eyes caught mine, might not be coming from the woods themselves - having already been there to relieve their most carnal desires in the anonymity of the night.
My thoughts were clouded as I arrived into the woods, but I knew the place so well by this time that I went into autopilot, walking aimlessly while I waited for the high to dissipate a little so I would reach a more mellow mood. The air was cool, but it hadn't yet gotten cold enough to be uncomfortable to be out at night. It was relatively early so I didn't feel any rush to begin cruising right away. I passed several men, but I felt too high to make any attempt at a hookup, so I just continued walking in my dazed-like state for another while. At length I found my mind clearing - the fog lifting a little - so that I was able to stand in one of my favored spots. It was a small opening to a collection of trees that resembled something like a hidden stage. I often stood there, knowing then that the light from a distant street lamp allowed enough brightness for men to be able to make out my face in the darkness. Those that knew the area would know also that just behind me there was a space for us to slip away and enjoy ourselves. As a few men passed by, I struggled to keep my balance and after a few minutes and lack of anyone who looked interested, I decided I must still be a little too high and so I set off walking again towards home.
"Perhaps I'm higher than I thought," I mused to myself, "I should take a little longer to clear my head before I come back around". I quickly found myself back on one of the paved paths, heading towards the street. Coming up to the entrance to the woods, I looked to the right and caught the eye of a man propped up against a fence just to the side of the path. In the moment that I passed him, I looked over and saw a tall, young, black man with a kind looking face. He smiled broadly, exposing a healthy set of white teeth. I smiled back and breathed in his study frame.
I was almost out of the woods, but without a thought I turned to the right, taking a new direction along a gravel path behind where the tall, handsome man was standing. I glanced back as I passed to make sure to catch his eye and that he knew my intention. I walked a minute down the path and then slowed, sensing that he was following a short distance behind. Still feeling dazed, I had enough wherewithal to look around for an opening in the bushes as we walked. After another few moments, I noticed a gap in the hedge with a large tree which would be ideal to stand behind. I led the way into the opening and then turned and waited. Seconds later, the man moved slowly behind me into the opening and stood beside me. Without a word I reached automatically for his crotch and gently stroked his already bulging penis. He reached down and unbuttoned his jeans. Still without a word I crouched down on my knees and pulled his briefs down to reveal his large appendage. I pushed my face into his crotch and took a deep breath of his warm, smooth genitals rubbed up against me. I took his cock on to my tongue and sucked gently, allowing it to swell and fill my mouth.
The effect of the weed was to focus my mind on things that would, or could, otherwise be imperceptible. In this instance, I could taste the sweet and warm liquid being excreted from this man's throbbing gland onto my tongue. Even though it could not have been more than a small drop or two, I savoured the taste and the thought of having his load turned me on immensely. I looked up and caught the man's eyes looking down at me smiling. He was handsome and had soft features, with a clean-shaven face and head too. He reached down with both hands under my arms and pulled me to my feet. His hand reached behind me, down my back, and found its way into my underwear. I stood still and allowed him to explore. His fingers were grabbing my ass cheeks and then began searching for my hole. My asshole was now the sole focus of my sexuality, so much so that I rarely got hard, let alone desired getting my cock sucked or taken care of in any way.
