When back home in London, I yearn to be back in the wonderful Cine Paris, but every time I walk in I see two awful films and just walk out again without even sitting down. Always I am like this. Cannot wait to get out. This time I forced myself to take a seat, and told myself I was not allowed to leave until I had at least got an erection. Well, I barely managed it, but even then it was only by thinking about that sexy black barmaid in —– in London the day before.
Curiosity about how much more comfortable my bottom might feel in 1st class is starting to irritate me. Suddenly I feel stuck in a carriage full of plebs, when I could be breathing more rarefied air. Rosenheim. On our way to Salzburg. Suddenly my lack of a footrest here in 2nd class grows in my mind; I imagine what luxurious foot rests they might have in 1st class; lovely pouffés to put one’s feet on. Waited on by busty Bavarian maidens. This is haunting me. Their huge bosoms accidentally on purpose falling out of their low-cut dirndls as they bend to serve me. I have an erection now. Austria is picture-book beautiful (we might even still be in Bavaria). Like something out of the fairy tales you read as a child. How lovely to finally get some sleep last night (or early hours of the morning anyway)! All I could think about yesterday was my fatigue; 33 hours without sleep I went.
So yes a strangely muted and pointless trip to Brussels; but sitting in the Max lounge for one last Red Bull and beer, I felt sad to be leaving. On my return I would like to check out that “steampunk” bar by the Bourse, and the Palais d’Egmont “deconstruction” by street artists, and of course the Rue de Livourne at night. I would like to see Inna again in Fifth Avenue, and Mariana again in Rue d’Aerschot. The two Cine Paris films last night were a bit dull, Prison and Brigitte du Boi; I couldn’t even get an erection. Always a bad sign when you can’t get an erection in a porn cinema. There was a young man and woman behind the counter with the manager and I thought oh no, don’t say I’ve missed a live show because she is gorgeous! But it turned out they were the cleaners just about to get started. When I think they are there for sex, they turn out to be cleaners; when I think they are cleaners, they turn out to be offering sex. The girl, however, was so cute, pretty much the sexiest thing I’d seen on the whole trip. When I went back for a second beer the manager was not there, so she shyly hurried behind the counter and served me herself, with a sexy shy smile. It was her I was thinking about when I woke this morning.
Feeling quite depressed, but trying to force myself to spark to life, I came back to Cine Paris. Films were OK actually, but downstairs I was treated to a live show! Some curvy blonde woman was fucking some young Moroccan boy on the sofa under the screen itself, while the tubby husband (?) watched with pleasure. One or two other men were standing close by with their members out, and I moved in to stroke her beautiful naked voluptuous arse under her raised black negligee top—but her husband shooed me away. I think they are obviously swingers—the woman was really enjoying it, she seemed lost in the delirious abandon of her fucking—but I think there might be money involved too. People who wanted to partake had to pay for the privilege, I suspect. She then leant over the Moroccan boy (wearing a T-shirt only, his trousers & underwear nowhere to be seen) and proceeded to suck him off (uncovered). Amazing scenes! Of depravity! Filth!! And quite a good film on screen as well—was that Anna Polina?—but you know what, I still couldn’t feel sexy. Yes I had a full erection, but an erection in name only if you know what I mean. That is to say yes I had a full erection, of iron hard magnificence, but I didn’t feel any sexiness in my head. Still had no desire to put my erection INTO anything. It was a real lifeless erection.
I haven’t had a genuine unforced erection yet; not seen any pornography yet; not seen a naked woman yet. All these things should change in Nuremberg tonight. Numerous strip clubs (actually topless only apart perhaps for Bella Napoli), videokabins and windows.
Of course I do regret I did not bother to go see David Bowie’s apartment & café next door; next time! If I’m going to make pilgrimage anywhere it should be to the house where they filmed La Grande Bouffe, because increasingly that is how I live my life. Dedicated to the pleasures of sex, food & drink, like a connoisseur, with no care for the consequences. I did get a proper erection in Sissi Bar and Monte Carlo last night, so maybe worth a return tonight, and at least suffer a h—job to be performed on me. [Alas, my friend Mr Google tells me the La Grande Bouffe mansion was at 68, rue Boileau in the 16th arrondissement of Paris but is now gone, its place taken by the Vietnamese Embassy].
Back down to the bar at 845PM. I am forcing myself to drink. I cannot spend the whole night in my hotel room. Though that is just what I need to clear my head and recover from the previous night’s over-drinking. This holiday is turning into a damp squib. I have felt out of sorts the whole time. So I force myself to do something tonight. You never know, the sexiest girl of all time might be waiting for me in what is left of Stuttgarter Platz. I’ll probably shit myself before I get there; it’s been that kind of holiday. YMCA on the Berlin Plaza hotel radio now; that song is following me around. 946PM. I just want some sexy experience. Three days into my trip and I’ve yet to have a genuine unforced erection. 2209.