Roué

Prologue 4.0 - Dance of the heart

Prologue 4.0 – Dance of the heart (last Prologue, I swear on Martha Stewart’s brownies)

Chapter Song – Gentleman - Psy

His name’s Collin Cade. And he’s my best friend in the whole wide world. However, he was giving me a good reason to reconsider our friendship as he danced to the beat of Gangnam Style.

His fists were pumping an imaginary horse with a made-up lasso. He danced so awkwardly that he gave off this very unattractive twitch, like he was a drummer boy who didn’t know how to drum. Oh God, just f**k me already. I adored Collin, but this had to stop.

He didn’t know it, but he looked funny as he danced. He was so uncoordinated. It was painful to watch. As his best friend, it was my civic duty to tell him that he sucked.

“Collin … man, would you please get off the imaginary horse. You look like a paraplegic on Viagra,” was how I ridiculed, with both hands raised in mock surrender. My balls ached from laughing so hard. Surely his audition tape to apply as dance coach for Dancing with the Stars wouldn’t even make the pile of rejected videos. The music was outdated too, “and Gangnam is so 2012, man. This is what’s trending now,” I regarded as I fished the iPod and rotated the track to Psy’s Gentleman. I upped the volume then mounted it on the docking system, “Now, follow me. I’ma show you how it’s done, son,” I pushed my d**k to the side. It was getting in the way.

The bass thumped and I started to sway from side to side like how it was in the video. I felt my dong flail left and right as I did this, but I didn’t give a s**t, “See these hips? That’s how soft you should be man. Seriously, you must know how to bust a move dude, seeing that you’re a manwhore,” and surely he was. Collin was an escort. His ‘business’ wasn’t my business and I didn’t judge him. He was generous with the moolah he made. He’d hand me fat wads sometimes.

“Wow, man. You so cool. Where’d you learn to dance like that?” he was genuinely amazed at how good I was. I mean, it wasn’t difficult. It was just like f*****g, only sideways, “Matty, you gotsta audition for Dancing with the Stars. They need to replace that bleached dude on the show. You might just get the part,” was how chummy Collin was. I’d have better luck being an escort.

“I ain’t good with dancing, man. I was just showin’ ya how to move yo ass,” as much as it looked like a pipedream, I wanted to support my good friend. We’ve known each other since we were uncircumcised. We both grew up, along with the schlongs that dangled between our legs, in the orphanage. We didn’t have family growing up. We were each other’s kin. Sniff, sniff (╥﹏╥)

I noticed how late it was, “Hey man, the sun’s dipping like Martha Stewart’s titties. I better go,” I said while thumbing my phone for contacts. I needed to have a shag before the sun went down.

Collin sniffed like he was snorting crack, “D’you recycle the people you do the nasty with? I mean, the only people you haven’t f****d would be me and my woman,” was how he started his inquisition, “I hope that someday we find a cure for you, Matty Boi,” he patted me on the back.

“Yeah, I hope so too,” was I really considering a cure for my condition? I sure wasn’t. I mean, I was a magnet for s*x. Why would I tire of it? “I think I’ll enjoy it for now. I like being a Roué.”

“As long as you’re happy,” he gave me thumbs up, “I better go. I’ve a hungry woman waiting for me at home,” he smiled, and it made me realize how lucky he was to have found someone. Collin and I were fairly young. We were just twenty-two, but it seemed like he had already settled. At that moment I honestly wished I had someone too. I didn’t know what love felt like. It wasn’t something I could give mind to, nor prioritize. If you suffer with the same condition I had, you wouldn’t be thinking about love. Oh no. All you’d think about would be your next f**k.

‘Oh f**k me, of all the pretty holes tonight. Why did it have to be this?’ was how my subconscious mocked as my back rubbed against the mattress, with a man on top of me straddling me backwards. I didn’t want to see his expression so I had him face the headboard while he sat on me. He rode me torridly like I was a mustang. And in this circumstance by association, I was indeed a horse. I mean, I was well-endowed. It appeared like he was having a good time. Though judging from how tight he was, I believe he was in unbelievable pain as well.

The smooth globes of his buttocks kept slamming against my musky crotch. He moved in what felt like a stream of fluid wild thrusts. I felt my balls tighten each time he came down. Goodness, would I ever tire of this activity? Why did fate have to brand me with probably one of the most undiagnosed, un-researched, and unsolvable medical cases of all time? Why me!?

My moans matched his as he humped my beefy bayonet backwards. I felt like a vibrator as he did me. But I wasn’t gonna complain. No sir. I needed this. My heart knew it so. I busied myself by looking at the glow stars that were stuck to the ceiling. They gleamed as I got lost in the feeling of my throbbing salami getting battered and abused. Oh man, he was tight.

I was panting God’s name blow after blow. I could hear the sound of slapping as I pounded him with reckless abandon. The uproar made by his belligerent hole was sadistic. I almost felt sorry for my meat-filled burrito. Oh God, I hope he didn’t have long. My heart was killing me already.

He kept screaming inaudible chants like he was being possessed by the seven devils. Well, if there were any demons inside of him wanting to come out, they’d all be pumping my bishop right about now.

I’d always ask myself what my gender preference was. Well, I did men for convenience, but I definitely preferred women. Though, guys did give me better orgasms. Yeah, I know I’m confused, yet I know I shouldn’t be. Just so you know … this ain’t my first time doing it with a dude if you remember.

I cussed in different languages as I quaked over the mattress. He kept grinding like a copter. God I felt so sore and violated. And as he did me, all I could think about was how I could get his number. This was the first time I did this person. I needed his identification in my black book.

He appeared rich. His crib was pimped to the Niles. And if the Bugatti Royale Kellner Coupe, Lamborghini Reventon, and Aston Martin in his garage were any indication, I do believe he was one well-off sonovabritch.

The lucky horndog crucified himself over my big fat wad. I remembered him to be the closest f**k I could find tonight. I didn’t even bother asking his name when I approached him. All I asked was if I could bed him tonight. And he said hell yeah. His hips gyrated so damn hard I thought my p***s was gonna break. I gave up my thinking altogether as he defiled my dingus.

I was crying in pain as my heart accelerated. And like preaching to the choir, all my protests fell on deaf ears. He relentlessly moved up and down as my entire being thrummed in this hot sweltering Miami heat, “Hey! Slow it down a little,” I grunted. I honestly felt like I was dying.

“Sorry, man. Yours is the biggest one I’ve had,” was his confession. Of course mine was the biggest one he had, “Here, is this better? Don’t get mad at me, please,” finally, he slowed down.

He mercifully regulated the pressure then moved at an angle that didn’t hurt my red-headed monster. He took his sweet time on my throbbing muffin, like how a baker would with a rolling pin on soft dough. Ungh.

My heart was in protest. I knew that this was going to be over soon. But I needed to be smart at this. The timing needed to be right. I couldn’t screw this up even if I was busy screwing him. If I so much came at the wrong time, my heart was going to fail. How did I know that? Well, it happened once. Collin had to revive me by taking both fists to my chest. I nearly died that one time when I f****d a nun.

My head bobbed closer to the foot of the bed each time he pushed back. I knew the minute he grabbed at my shins that he was about to reach climax. I could feel him tighten around me as he picked up his movement.

“Aaagh—!”

Fuck! I came inside of him, spilling like a torrent. He followed suit. Jet after jet escaped him, staining the head of the bedpost. As soon as I was done, and with my heart normalizing, I pushed him off me to clothe myself. I leaped from the bed and rummaged for my scattered clothes around the floor. I saw a reflection of my f****d-up self in the mirror – dirty blond hair all messed-up, long generous brows that hooded my f**k-me eyes, straight nose over a sparse mustache, mildly generous pink lips, down to my five-o’clock shadow from chin to sideburns.

I brushed the clump of hair around my face. I looked like a hobo.

“Here,” he threw me five Benjamins. The gesture threw me off.

“Wait … I’m not a w***e,” I griped with eyebrows in a furrow.

“Yeah, sure you’re not,” he snickered. Ugh. I ain't a w***e!