Missing

Missing

Missing

I was missing Sebastião and Raul. And the day after was another awkward day. Because I wasn’t able to draw a path from such distant moods as the regression, the broken heart and then that amazing night in Prainha.

You can find all these past “chapters”by checking the erotic stories index.

This day I’d be able to learn much more about pain. Surprisingly, about how pain and pleasure can blend together in such a fascinating way.

The day after that unbelievable experience with the cousins I had an appointment with Shangri-La. I was a candidate for a Tantric masseur job.

The interview

Shangri-La’s Asian face looked much paler since in Rio the pattern is tanned skin. On top of that, I guess she used the traditional rice powder to whiten herself even more.

One of her masseuses closed the door behind me leaving me alone in the room with Shangri-La. A dark wood decorated room. The furniture and the tropical plants re-created a Thai atmosphere to the smallest detail.

After having a very precise and thorough conversation over a tea, she decided to hire me.

She was assuming I was going to serve exclusively a female clientele. Right before I was about to say I’d prefer serving male clients, she made a very bold statement. She hated gay men and made it very clear. A number of masseurs had applied before me but she despised them all for being gay.

Shangri-La assumed I was straight. So, in order to have that job, I decided not to contradict her. There was another reason, which was the trust I felt she had for me. Not deluding her would be difficult but had many benefits, like that excellent job.

As I stepped out the massage saloon, the warm air of the late afternoon made me feel disoriented.

Like the deserts miss the rain

An old song from the 90’s came to my mind.

I looked up by your house, but you don’t live there anymore.

My thoughts were for Raul and Sebastião and our mesmerising carnal encounter. And then there was Stanislaw and the remembrance of a former reincarnation.

So many meaningful men in such a short time. Yet I was alone. Again.

Missing erotic story

Missing erotic story: the blue “orelhão” in the back.

During the taxi trip to my little cheap hotel I wondered what to do next.

Using the “orelhão” —the public telephones— was something I hated more and more, so I decided to buy a cell phone. Shangri-La would be phoning anytime. Besides, Sebastião —and his cousin Raul— should also be able to reach me anytime. Or so I wished!

I spent the rest of the evening and the early hours of the night walking back and forth Copacabana. My looks are very german, so clearly exotic to them, which caused many young Brazilians to smile at me in a very funny way. I wasn’t in the mood for quickies.

There still was like a whirl inside my heart.

I was having a drink in a bar on the promenade. It was already dark, but I sat under an umbrella close to the Copacabana Palace when I heard a familiar voice. It was Gel, a friend from my ex-lover. He was talking to an older lady, so I decided not to draw his attention. Gel was a very sexy young man, absolutely straight. He was supposed to be a muscle trainer, but he was always involved in unclear businesses.

Gel, the intriguing

In fact, I never knew when and where he was training clients. And it surprised me to see him there. He should be in Switzerland with his sponsor, a very rich lady from Geneva.

After a while, Gel came walking back alone, without the woman. He looked at me, sort of stopped to think, and yelled at me with a big smile!

You are Paulo’s friend!

He obviously didn’t remember my name. His calves were still voluminous, very magnetic, and very hairy too. He immediately sat next to me while he whistled to the waiter. That meant:

A very cold beer, please.

He probably thought I never left Rio during all those years, assuming everything was like usual. I asked if he had ever been to Geneva with her girlfriend, but his face twisted in disgust. She never sent the money. Did she think he’d be using the money for anything but buying a flight?

There was nothing much to talk with him, and he suddenly pointed out he knew a certain “orelhão” where you could place all the calls for free —also international. He left half the beer and stood up assuming I was following. The waiter came immediately and I paid his beer —that’s how he works.

We walked a couple of blocks, and turned into one of the dark streets. He was silent, and I thought he’d surprise me with a weird seduction trick, maybe sex for money, who knows.

He stopped at the public phone close to the corner, put himself under its blue helmet and started to dial. I was standing there, watching his hairy calves. I could see how he pulled at his dick, he didn’t use any underwear, just a sloppy football short. His dick had to be quite voluminous —judging by the way it heavily moved side to side.

Missing Europe

Gel mumbled into the phone, I guess it was the Swiss lady. The call was only seconds, and then he handed me the handset.

You can call “your” Europe, it’s free!

He stepped aside to give me some privacy. I listened inside the earpiece. I could hear a far and long breathe.

Could I ever call Stanislaw? Did you read the story about Stanislaw?

I recalled Sebastião’s words.

Maybe you already know him.

The phone rang, and I instantly shocked.

The public phone that rings

Gel laughed and pointed to a window on the third floor.

It’s a gay guy, whenever he sees some men he likes, he calls them up to his apartment. He always spends some ice cold beer.

He made a “thumbs up” gesture for me and a blink meaning “go for it!”

I was feeling so lost and bored that I thought I might. Something I learned in Brazil is that you always need to open all doors. Besides, the guy at the window was an attractive black man. Gel sort of guessed my look and stepped back theatrically.

Not me!

Don’t you want his beer? I’m not going alone, only if you come with me.

Deep down I thought all that was a trick. Gel’s pretended phone call, then this guy ringing the cabin. But if I didn’t try to convince Gel, I wouldn’t kill my curiosity about his heavy dick. Who knows what a straight trainer can do after a couple beers?

Upstairs at Eric’s

Gel tried to act as if that what his first time visiting, but once we stepped inside his apartment, Eric’s body language assuming Gel wasn’t a stranger made it clear the trainer already knew the place.

Eric was a black man in his late 40s, tall, slender and sort of attractive. I must say “sort of” because you wouldn’t say he was handsome, but his expression was warm, smiling and I could sense he deserved my trust. The sort of man you can have as a very good friend… with benefits.

He was wearing yellow bermudas and a green tank. Those colours reminded me of the Brazilian flag. He immediately served a very cold beer for Gel, but asked me to follow him inside the kitchen. I noticed the whole floor was wooden, also inside the kitchen. He opened a freezer. I was about to grab one of the beer bottles.

It’s warm!

He smiled at me and said with a seductive tone:

Don’t you like some warm stuff?

Then he touched his basket, and I could tell he was semi-erect. Since warm beer is not for me, Eric said there was no other option than mixing “a special” caipirinha. In a minute he had it done, also one for himself, which made me feel more confident. It was delicious!

I forgot I had come upstairs into an apartment of a guy who rings random guys he sees at the public telephone. While Gel was familiar, though more on the distant side, Eric had this Brazilian talent of assuming you know each other for years.

Three on the sofa

As we stepped into the hall I expected to see Gel already naked, but he was totally spread over the sofa, dressed and holding the bear between his legs. There was no way you could think he was gay. Gel looked very tempting, and I assumed that would be the second night in a row practising a three-some. Deep down, though, I was missing Stanislaw, Sebastião… and especially Raul.

That sofa moment was the typical start for a chat about football or politics. Then things would get more into the sexy side after a couple beers —or so I thought.

Eric instead instructed me to sit at Gel’s side while he started to approach the young trainer with a weird intention. I brushed my leg against Gel’s hairy and sexy leg, it felt warm and electrifying. I got a hard-on.

Very slowly, Eric got closer and closer. Gel was looking away as if there was a tv in front of him. Eric put his hands around Gel’s neck with a big smile.

I first switched into the scary mode, ready to help Gel from something that looked like an attack, but Gel started to pull his dick through the fabric. He was clearly allowing Eric’s move.

Eric put his other hand on top of Gel’s basket, which got harder and even more voluminous. Everything in that room was turning into a weird direction, but it also felt intriguing. Everything would be alright as long as I felt free to get up and go.

Gel put his right hand on top of Eric’s mouth. His index and thumb pressed Eric’s nose in a way he couldn’t breathe. Eric’s eyes clicked into mine, and his message was of awareness and calm.

Gel got up, and his erection absolutely distorted his shorts, reminding me of a tent. There was a straight pipe inside tensioning the fabric. That stuff had to be huge.

I expected Eric to undress Gel, but both remained standing there, strangling each other.

Black velvet

Gel then went into the next room and closed the door. Eric came close to me, carefully and with his big smile, saying nothing. Instead of trying to strangle me, he caressed my hard dick, in a slow and seductive way. Then he tipped my hand signalising we could join Gel in that dark room. I felt curious for both of them.

There were already about ten candles lit on the floor. I first looked inside the darkness expecting to find a bed. But there was just a thin mattress. I could see some ropes and metal rings scattered on the floor around that surface. Also a tissues box and a little brown glass bottle, like medicine.

I felt much calmer once Eric put his palm on my chest, like stopping me. He then lay down face up, spreading his arms and legs. Gel fastened Eric to all four ropes, and then tightened them in a way he could not move. That position remembered me of the Vitruvian man.

As soon as I got used to the darkness, I wondered why he didn’t take off his clothes. Gel was also dressed in his tank and shorts. I felt the need to get naked, and I did it. Eric looked at me approving, and then Gel covered his eyes with a black velvet mask. My erection softened since Gel wasn’t really interested in my dick. Only Eric, and he wasn’t able to see me!

Gel inserted a CD into a small sound system. A syncopated rhythm imitating the dragging of chains and slow but menacing drums, very cohesive with what was happening in the room. I soon recognised Depêche Mode’s “Blasphemous rumours” and other songs of those years.

I kneeled at Eric’s side. Shangri-La and her massage house came to my mind. I knew she’d condemn this sort of practice.

The missing instinction

I caressed Eric’s body very slowly, just with the tips of my fingers, and I could notice his goose-bumps. My dick also brushed his hands and fore-arms. He incidentally tried to grab it.

Gel put some tape around Eric’s mouth, so he could only breathe through his nose.

I tried pressing my thumb and index finger so he couldn’t breathe through his nose either, exactly as I saw it done by Gel on the sofa. I counted the seconds while I held my own breathe too. When I felt the urge to inhale, I released so he could breathe too.

Eric seemed to enjoy it like crazy!

Gel was still wearing his shorts, but I could tell his erection. He started to spank Eric on his sides, chest and legs. That made some loud sounds that remind me of a whip clashing on buttocks.

Gel used his hands, everything there felt very “handmade”, which contradicted the previous idea I had about domination.

At the same time i started to twist Eric’s nipples. His body started to twist too, like a snake. But it was out of pleasure. And I was enjoying torturing him that way.

I pointed Eric’s bulge with my eyes, so Gel could decide if he was doing something with that huge dick hiding beneath the fabric. Honestly, I expected him to suck Eric, and maybe then I could suck Gel, who knows.

Gel whipped Eric’s bulge instead, which felt painful just by seeing it. Then he twisted it, and Eric’s body struggled lifting and getting loose. But he couldn’t.

At that point I felt very excited and started to masturbate. Too bad Eric couldn’t see me, and Gel wasn’t interested. At that point, it excited me even more. I wondered if stripping Gel off, to fire up the whole situation.

The smell

Gel produced a little dark bottle. He soaked a black piece of velvet at its tip and put it close to Eric’s nose. I immediately recognised the smell of “poppers”.

Gel pulled Eric’s pants down his ankles. He unlocked the straps and threw the pants away. Then he quickly tied him up again. Eric was having an amazing erection, and he sort of moved his body so his dick clashed against his belly, then his legs. Gel gave me a hard look when I was about to masturbate Eric, so I didn’t even try. I guess he knew better.

That was sort of hard torture. Eric was dripping pre-cum, and all the area around his pubic hair was shining in the light of the small candles.

Once I saw he was using a glove I knew there was some fisting involved. And boy, was Gel expert with that! Guessing what to do next, I sat on top of Eric’s face. His eyes were still covered with the velvet mask, and his mouth taped clase. But he could still smell my balls. I knew he liked that, I could tell from the way he was exhaling the air through his nostrils.

From that position I had the perfect view of Gel doing some very slow but deep moves. He introduced his fist inside Eric. Every now and then, I twisted Eric’s black nipples, and also did some spanking on his side and arms. There was no way to tell if he was happy, though I knew he was.

Until Eric started shaking his whole body in all directions, and Gel sat back, a little away from Eric’s feet. He still had his shorts on.

Eric’s screaming was suffocated by the tape, and it sounded like a tremendous suffering. He could only use his nose to breathe and express what he was feeling. I covered his nostrils again with one hand, while I twisted his nipples with the other.

The dark death

Suddenly Eric stopped breathing, his body fell down limp and lifeless on the mattress. I feared he had a stroke. His arms and feet were drawing she shape of a big cross, like a human sacrifice.

But his black dick was throbbing, and started to cry an endless river of semen. You couldn’t tell different shots, it was one long, very long sad spring. Like a long cry of a man who was literally dying of pleasure. In sadness, with no more energy to stick to life. His semen formed a river on his groin, then dripping on the side and forming a bigger lake on the mattress.

Gel turned the music off, the silence was sepulcral, the darkness of the room felt guilty and sinful.

The smell was a weird mixture of wax, poppers, semen, sweat and testicles.

After a couple of minutes of silence, and very slowly, Gel started to remove the tape around Eric’s mouth. Then his wrists and feet. Lastly, the velvet mask covering Eric’s eyes. He looked like a dead man, with his open eyes looking into the infinite ceiling with no expression. He didn’t look either at me or Gel.

Gel got up silently. I wondered if staying there to caress Eric, but Gel made a gesture to follow him out the room. I was about to ask him what to do next, but he sort of lead me to the kitchen. He opened the freezer, I saw those beer bottles sitting among the transparent ice. Where they still warm? But Gel reached far behind them into the sparkling white ice. There were two little envelopes inside a surgical plastic bag.

Again I felt the need to ask what was next. Or I could just grab Gel’s bulge and play it by the ear. His bulge was back to the normal size, so anything further than what already happened was unlikely. Gel stepped towards the door and looked back to check if I was following him out Eric’s apartment. He slammed the door close and handed me one of the envelopes. Then he started running downstairs.

Curiosity won again, and I opened the envelope in the dimmed staircase. There was a lot of money.

The missing guilt

Gel didn’t count his envelope, so I assumed there was the same amount. It all looked like some “business as usual”.

I didn’t expect Gel to be waiting on me downstairs on the street, but he was. His look wasn’t free of guilt.

Is this money for us? —I asked.

Yep.

Gel avoided looking into my eyes. I didn’t know if the reason was because he was feeling ashamed or guilty of giving that sort of “service”.

How did it mess with his own sexuality. Was I ever to find out while living in Rio?

It was about 2 AM. Gel did his typical “thumbs up” and started waking away. He knew where he was going —I didn’t.

I was feeling frustrated because that fetish session had been very exciting. So there must be a huge new world to explore in that direction too!

Gel was a very hot guy, but he was clearly restricting himself. He just did it for the money. Though his excitement was obvious. Would I have another chance to put him to the limit?

I started to walk towards the promenade, the famous Avenida Atlântica. As I passed by the “orelhão”, it rang. I turned around and looked up to Eric’s window. There he was, with his thumbs up. Well, at least he looked happy about how he spent his money.

I gave a similar gesture in return. The phone didn’t stop ringing, so I answered.

Come back sometime!

His voice felt warm, despite the equalised flat sound.

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