Scoundrel

by guest author Janx 

The writer of this blog and I are very good friends who love more than anything to sip fine beverages and share the filthiest stories we have under our belts. Time after time I am defeated in our pissing game of smut tales- so I am honored that she asked me to write a guest entry for her loyal readers- as if I might actually get a rise out of what I have to share. What I decided- since this is technically a traveling blog as well- to tell a small tale on how I earned my stripes as a certified scoundrel.     

When I left California to enter a four month artist residency in Prague, I had promised Ace that I would remain loyal to him and our love would be enough to satisfy all my sexual desires.

This concept was quickly swept under the rug the first night as I awoke next to my new favorite local bartender who slept with his half-smoked rolled cigarette wedged between his lower lip and unusually large mustache.

I could already tell it was going to be a great four months.


This thought was only reaffirmed when I spotted a devilish looking man at my first weekly meeting at the office of my residency. He looked like he could kill for pleasure, and then draw the corpse as the most delicate still-life. As it happens Birdie and a gaggle of other characters were all military architects on a different project, using the same space as a handful of painters.  It wasn’t long before I got the one female army drone liquored up enough to tell me every little fact I wanted to know about Birdie. She told me he was only 21 but has been in a serious relationship (his ONLY relationship) for the past six years, and that he and his girlfriend lived in different states.  This to me, was an entirely unacceptable fate for such a beautiful man-and so began a new game of cat and mouse.

I would be lying if I said my little mouse was easily persuaded.  It took well over a month of me grabbing his cute little ass, and drunkenly whispered words before I got him in my bed.

I could tell he himself didn’t know what he was doing there, the guilt of breaking his six year monogamy had him tied up in knots. Almost paralyzed with indecision.

That is until I got my hands on his big, hard, army dick.

We had several heated sessions where I expanded his mind and sexual repertoire. At first he was so shy and hesitant, and then he was desperate and overly willing for the tongue tricks his prudish girlfriend would never allow him to experience.  He became so intoxicated with our time that we both knew it was approaching the realm of being dangerously addictive.

Eventually he broke and confessed to his real lady what he had done, she was upset but so in love with him that all was forgiven in an instant. He told me we could no longer be lovers- but for some reason slept on my couch every night after.

While I understood his dilemma, I was still upset-and quite horny. You see- when breaking a noble character such as his, you have to make a man feel special, a singular entity in your heart. I had stopped seeing my other Czech lovers during our time together- so now that he had cut me off, it was time to go back into my little black book.

The next week we all went out to karaoke, and I had brought with me a fine German named Marec, who was anxiously awaiting our time alone. After  one hour of 2-4-1 specials at the bar, Marec and I were one short skirt away from fucking on the kitschy velvet barstools. We were interrupted by a loud breaking of glass by our feet. I detached my face from Marec’s only to see Birdie standing there. His half-drank Pilsner  shattered on the ground.  His muscles were throbbing, and his eyes were filled with anger and unyielding tears.

Holding back his urge to scream, he choked out a “what the fuck is going on?”

I smiled at his heart-broken face, and as I groped Marek’s cock with one hand, I promptly flipped Birdie the bird with my other.

"Deal with it, buddy"

He slept on my couch again as my German lover and I enjoyed a night of two equally experienced partners, feeling no need to courteously hold back our moans and groans. In the morning after Marec left,  enjoyed a well deserved cup of Jo- I looked Birdie in the eyes-so heart broken and distraught-and thought to myself.

This must be the definition of a scoundrel.