The Lesser Bohemians Read Online Free PDF

wide. This isn’t a game. This is already well underway. And I’d like to look at his body but he doesn’t know that and I am miles too shy to ask, for now the kissing’s more biting. Now it’s Show me your breasts, and the bra’s off like Voilà! He steps back. I fold up. Too late for modesty, he laughs, yanking my wrist. I can’t though. Just clench in. He tries again. I double over. Hey, is something wrong? I don’t reply. Are you sick? Shake my head. Have I hurt you somehow? No I, eyes pricking wet. His voice turning anxious What’s just happened? What’s wrong? And I know I must any minute NOW say I’m sorry    I’m sorry    I’m shy.
    Silence in the courtyard. Silence in the street. His low laugh. Don’t laugh. Well don’t be shy with me! Jokes won’t go for nowthough, not with ignominy to the eyes. I’m not laughing at you, sorry, he solemnifies, then hides me with his body. Touches my hair. Whispers You don’t have to be shy with me, pulling up his duvet. But Oh my God, I just Oh God, exhale. Ah now Ireland too much shame. And he covers as much of me as I’ll let. You know, we don’t have to if you don’t want, right? I do want    I really do it’s just    Alright then, he says Let me have a think. So the fly and Nick Cave get their wicked way as he ponders my state, and I cringe.
    Okay, he rouses Here’s the plan: I strip off while you look on. One good gawp at my skinny white hide should cure all that shy, don’t you think? Hot-faced I imagine what I might see, and he gets smile-narrow eyes Alright, sit. So I do, clamped in duvet. Now look up at me, he says That’s all you have to do. I force my eyes up, though not to his. To his slim shoulders. His pale chest. The curve of his arm and strings of veins. Ribs showing a little through. Darker hair on his stomach than his head. More? I nod. Trousers pushed down long legs. Thin, not skinny. Sorry really old pants, and he flaps at his shorts Still with me? Yes. Excellent, because this next bit’s the best! And he inches the waistband to his pubic hair. Fuck go my guts and squirl. He bends. I. Oh. Rips a sock off instead. Ah ha! Caught in the act! he says What a filthy mind! No I just. Then he just takes them down and
    I’ve never seen a whole naked man.
    Bits only, in isolation                                     
    but
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  that’s not the same and         
    Here you go, he says doing a turn and
    the thrill of him goes right down my leg.
    Stop catching flies, he says, then – air-hostessing himself – Time for the guided tour. Head with own hair. Face. Neck. Collarbone, once broken. Shoulder dislocated – painful that. Chest. Left arm broken. Right, intact. A few fucked fingers. Ribs cracked, three. Stomach. Legs. Left foot fractured. Jesus, what happened you? I fell off a roof. Ow! I say. Ow is right but it was a long time ago. And this – presented in finger and thumb – is my penis, at half-mast now but I can promise better later on, circumcised too, for your delight. Are you Jewish? No it was too tight or something when I was young. Why ‘for my delight’? Women like that sort of thing, he says Or so I’ve heard. And I don’t know if it’s planned but all his chat feeds time to familiarise. So, feeling less shy or more sure I’m a freak? as he hunkers down in front. Both! Well no pleasing some people, then he leans in and kisses me again. Soft this time. Like coax with his tongue. Persuading though that what he wants, I want. Implicating me in first incursions to my breasts.