I wanted to tell you about one of my most memorable sexual experiences. I could have simply written about that scene alone, but ultimately I couldn't just throw those words together without putting them into context, which, in my opinion, greatly explains why this experience was so special. So please excuse the length of the introduction. At 20, I was a tall, dark-haired, blond Adonis with gray-blue eyes. I was mainly attractive to older men, even to men who are practically ancestors like me now. But I preferred men my own age. Which is funny because the older I get, the younger the men who are attracted to me become. To the point where today I could sleep with guys I dreamed of sleeping with when I was their age. But at 20, I was rather shy in social situations. I had trouble taking the leap from flirting to sex. I spent more evenings sitting in a dark corner of gay bars than in the bed of guys I liked. Only the most proactive guys had a chance with me. Then, little by little, I gained confidence and started having casual sex with one goal in mind: to try everything to find out what I really liked. Luckily, I practiced safe sex; that's certainly what saved me during the AIDS epidemic that was ravaging the country at the time, and perhaps also my very selective nature. I only slept with guys I found physically attractive: essentially charm, expressive eyes on a face that was appealing according to my standards; the body was secondary. I avoided guys who were too good-looking and, of course, those who had no chance with me. My job required me to move from the southwest to the Paris region; it was like going from a nudist beach to an open-air sex den. In Paris, I had sex at a much more frenetic pace. I don't remember most of the faces, but I remember their penises perfectly, that's how vivid they were. Years before, I had received a prediction from a psychic friend. She told me I was going to meet the man of my life and described in detail how I would meet him. It would be in a crowded place where people were having fun and dancing. He would appear in a halo of light, and our eyes would immediately meet and be unable to look away... She said I would never love anyone else like him. I tucked that prediction away in the back of my mind but didn't pay it much attention. At the time, I wasn't considering a long-term relationship with anyone; it wasn't for me. Then came the year I turned 30.It was like a switch flipped in my head; I didn't want casual sex anymore, I wanted to love and be loved.Like every Saturday night, I went to my favorite nightclub in the basement of a building in the Opéra district. It was still early, and there weren't many people there yet. It was gradually filling up, but I liked being among the first to arrive so I could pick out the guys who met my criteria for attractiveness and who might be attracted to me. So far, nothing interesting. The club was filling up quickly that night when the DJ played my favorite song. I rushed onto the already crowded dance floor and plunged into a rhythmic trance, closing my eyes. The door to the club's restrooms opened directly onto the dance floor. I was on the opposite side of the floor when the door suddenly opened, making me open my eyes, and there, in a burst of intense light, was an angel. The light from the bathroom fixtures on the wall behind this apparition cast a halo of light around its face. I froze, eyes and mouth agape, staring at what I saw, and that prediction immediately flashed back to me. I felt disconcerted...the guy was coming out of the bathroom! Not exactly the ideal image one might imagine for the encounter of a lifetime, but the light...and that gaze that...that...that locked onto mine, that I felt seep into my chest, which began to pound faster than the techno music, slapped me, my legs trembled, and...he smiled at me. I had just met the man of my life...but also my greatest disappointment, which would lead to a memorable night of sex. Two years later, a friend lent us an apartment with a sea view in Cabourg. I had three weeks of vacation; it was July. Loris, the love of my life, eight years my junior and still a student on a work-study program, could only join me on weekends. I picked him up at the Cabourg train station on Friday evenings and took him back on Sundays. So I spent the week alone, sunbathing on the nearest nudist beach, and spent most of my evenings with our cat, who followed us everywhere. From a casual fling, I'd become a loyal boyfriend since we met, ignoring the almost daily temptations to cheat. My second week of vacation was ending; it was Friday evening, and I was going to pick up Loris at the station. The love of my life, although not very interested in sex, was there with the same smile as the first time, still as handsome as ever, his hair blowing in the wind, Ray-Bans on his nose. A quick kiss, her bag tossed in the trunk, and off we went to the seaside apartment. This evening, like most of our evenings, ended in our bed, in front of the TV, in each other's arms, cuddling, kissing, but no sex...I wasn't one for sleeping in, so at 7 a.m. I was already up and about, starting to tidy up the mess Loris had made since he arrived, as usual. I put his bag in the hall closet, and as I closed the door, I saw a folded, almost crumpled piece of paper on the floor. I picked it up automatically to throw it in the bin, unfolding it to check it wasn't anything important. That's when I was struck by a poisoned arrow to the heart. I felt the poison seeping into my very core as I read what was written on the paper: "Thank you for such a tender and affectionate evening. I loved this night in your arms and you calling me your teddy bear. If you ever feel like it, call me: 06........, XOXO signed: Paul." I was petrified, tears welled up, uncontrollable... A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, the first wondering what I could have possibly done to make him want to look elsewhere, and then why? Yes, of course, sexually it wasn't great. I met his expectations, never forced him to do anything he might not like. We did everything he wanted, which was practically nothing because he couldn't stand anal sex for too long and couldn't get it in. I had become 100% versatile before meeting him, and I was always incredibly attentive to my successive partners, their pleasure before my own. So why? He says he loves me every single day and could never love anyone else like that...so why? Anger is rising inside me now. I feel betrayed, humiliated. Who is this man in my bed??? I calm down...think! Think, damn it! Okay...It's just sex...But why his Teddy Bear??? He's always called me his Teddy Bear....Tears...then...NO! Revenge is a dish best served cold... I decide to say nothing about my discovery, no. It's too easy. He'll come up with lame excuses, as usual. He must be suffering like I am. The weekend is over, it's time for Loris to catch his train. I walk him home. Kisses. See you next Friday. Call me when you arrive? Kiss... Revenge mode is activated...Back at the apartment. I take a shower, shave, use an enema, freshen my breath. I choose a sexy outfit: a dark blue satin shirt, open to reveal the muscular pecs beneath the blond chest hair, beige cotton pants with a dark blue leather belt, and midnight blue Converse sneakers. My favorite gold tiki necklace, a diamond in my left earlobe, and a cheap, flashy watch on my wrist. I head to the gay restaurant in Honfleur where I've been going for the past two weeks. The owner, Alain, a charming and playful guy, had been flirting with me since my first visit. He was tall, blond, well-built, with gorgeous eyes. He ran the restaurant with his partner in the kitchen, whom I'd never seen. On the way, I call Alain to reserve a table. As usual, he makes a little joke about my intentions with him, wondering if I'll finally fall for his beautiful eyes. I seriously reply that it's possible. That shuts him up. Proud of myself, I hang up. When I arrive, I see Alain. We exchange kisses, which I press with one hand on his back, letting it slide gently down his backside. I feel him shiver. There aren't many people there this Sunday evening. At 10 p.m., ...

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