Broken Capillaries Breast Pregnancy

Sehnsucht (m / m / f to the PWP kinks_pervs Fest - original)

... would also be time to post it, if I read the more I can begin to recite ù.ù;

Title: Sehnsucht
Author: matitablu
Fandom: Original
Character / Couple: threesome m / m / f: a young actor, his lover for a summer, a girl he met by chance.
Rating:
NC17 Word Count: ~ 4300
Warnings: Het and Slash all at once; infidelity
Notes: - This story came to my mind while here and there leggiucchiavo the dynamic duo Luchino Visconti / Helmut Berger ... and at that point I stopped because I wanted to write a further RPF and feel connected to historical reality (because I know if I start to document then I put a lot of posts and did not come out as - well, now that I've written I can get back to reading). Actually it is an original story I've probably lost more time to "know" the characters and is not released a * total * PWP, but the p0rn and there is definitely the focus of the story: D
- even if I put aside the idea of the RPF, if you picture starring Pierre Berger do just fine: 3
- I should probably also thank the Rammstein for the title, thanks to them if I know what it means to the untranslatable "Sehnsucht"!
Prompt: Sex & Summer / 005. Beach (PWP fest @ kinks_pervs )
Archive no
Summary: Life was sweet, this summer, you could tell by the smell of the air: a mixture of salt, wax candle, and wore expensive perfume that the people most of the shirts and skirts.

... you could translate the word Sehnsucht with "desire of desire" derives from the terms das Sehnen , burning desire, and die Sucht , dependence. Literally so, Sehnsucht could be translated as dependence on desire, which is the constant yearning that leads man to never be satisfied with what it touches or possesses, but he always pushes to new heights, transforming the sentiment in a self-destructive and destructive force. *

Pierre looks at the empty beach, and even Saint-Tropez, in un'uggiosa winter day, it becomes depressing as any establishment for families of workers. That was Europe who had known and in which he was moved with a light step and contempt of danger: Every era has the mediocrity that it deserves.

"I am a man of the last century," he says pointing to the umbrellas closed as if he felt the joke of a show. The sand is wet and hard rain, and he checks the phone to see if there are calls, messages.

***

Saint-Tropez, August 13, 1973

Life was sweet, this summer, you could tell by the smell of the air: a mixture of salt, candle wax, and wore expensive perfume that the people most of the shirts and skirts. Pierre was lying on its side on the bed by the beach, mo 'of triclinium, with a fruity cocktail in hand and sitting next to Philippe, both completely at ease in the voices of the soiree. Pierre loved those situations, and at the same time despised. He was not born in that environment, even though he had always wanted to join. This may account for what could not but feel a sting of disappointment every time he saw someone from the so-called high society to behave like any peasant.

The Countess, enhanced by a trail of cocaine, was dancing on the table in the center of the gazebo to the applause, general and Philippe made a bad joke and served on the weight of the woman. Pierre was always laughing, at jokes and bad discounted Philippe, Philippe was so many things in his mirror: young, handsome, vacuous. He also moved to the edge of the jet set smelt from afar until Pierre had not met and decided to spend the summer with him. It was justified to himself thinking that it was doing nothing more than return his karma, as Charles had introduced into the world of art and entertainment six years earlier, he would have done the same with Philippe. Sure, he preferred to skirt the issue about not having the slightest intention of giving Philippe also a career and, ultimately, a new life. And above all does not dwell on the idea of Charles was in Paris working on the film, earning money with which to keep.

"I am beginning to be a little 'tired," she was saying Philippe ear and horny. We're going from here, eh, Pierre? "

Pierre watched her drink raising his eyebrows. "I do not know. You are an asset here. But the bar could do better, go ahead and take the couch if you want, I'm going to see to fill this glass with something more, um, interesting."

Philippe rolled his eyes but did not protest. Pierre had to decide, he was to have the money and credibility.

Pierre across the party, musing. He was not sure you want to conclude the evening with a scopatina with Philippe and nothing else. He had left with the feeling, or project, to do something different, and instead were finished in half the usual gang of middle-aged rich people who like to surround himself with beautiful young as vampires who suck the blood of virgins. The metaphor had him grinning to himself - a joke bad and predictable, the kind that Charles was too smart to do, on the other hand he could fall into the category of old people who suck the blood to the young. Ever so little virgins.

"Blessed are you that you have fun," said a voice close to him, now come to the open bar.

Pierre turned away. She was a teenager look with daughter full of flowers, and Pierre soon realized that perhaps the turning point in the evening it was still possible.

"You're wrong. It was more like a rictus, a reflection of hysteria, the kind that comes when you least expect appropriate. As the funeral."

"Yeah, I think a comparison guessed," she said, turning the straw in her soft drink and blushing a bit '. Pierre asked for a gin and tonic he turned again to the girl, nodding toward his glass chin.

"a little, 'you're not a bit' small to be here?" I question the need nothing under twenty percent alcohol, in this place. "

She shrugged. "My mother has categorically forbidden to bartenders and waiters to give me. I do not understand why I have dragged here in the first place. "

" Your mother is the Countess? "But yes, now that looked good, Pierre noticed a certain similarity between the girl and bejeweled matron who was keeping the bank at the center of party. He wished that mentally he was still a blond sylph of age with more grace and less blush on the cheeks.

The girl nodded. "Although I'd rather not," muttered. Pierre just smiled, arching his lips.

"Give me your drink, "he said. She said nothing but obeyed. He transfer half of his gin and tonic in the glass, and returned it to the daughter of the countess." I'm not a waiter or a bartender, "he says.

She smiled shyly. "Thanks," he said, sipping cocktails again. He wrinkled his nose. "E 'bitter."

"I would say a more adult taste," said Pierre, soft. "I would like to get drunk if I were you. It is not exactly the best of the holidays and your mother is giving the show ..." He watched the girl was very pretty, but with a mother so loud and exuberant, probably had rebelled living introverted adolescence, spent reading Baudelaire than to sneak out of college to go to the disco.

"... indeed, I would think almost to leave," said Pierre. She looked up suddenly.

"You are going to go?"

"No, I meant to leave if I were you. Among other things we have not presented.'m Pierre," he said, holding out his hand. She grinned nervously passing the glass in the left.

"I know. I've seen all your movies."

"Bella force, only three." Calculatedly, shook her hand a second longer than necessary, staring into his eyes.

"My name is Jane," she said, and then, by way 'of explanation: "My father is American."

"Well, Jane, now that I know, how about to move from words to deeds? Not to be brutal, but I do not think your mother will notice your absence, so we can fine get out of here undisturbed. We can even take you home if you want. "

" It's not far, "said Jane, thoughtfully. The gin and tonic, even when diluted, was probably having some effect. This time it was Pierre's turn to be tired of the party and a bit 'horny. The more she looked, the more attractive it seemed. He put a hand gently on the shoulder and led her to the other end of the festival, where Philippe he was slumped on the couch, posing plastic and visibly annoyed.

" Come on, Philippe, get her home we have the young lady. "

" We ? "Philippe said again, raising his eyebrows.

" Yeah, we all have the common goal of getting out of here, so why not take advantage and do it together? "grinned Pierre. does not escape the suspicious expression of Philippe, but ignored it. Pierre had never made any secret of his bisexuality, not had no intention of abandoning its plans for the evening only because his friend had decided to sulking.

They left the party on the sly, Pierre at the center and the other two sides, a situation that was just fine, despite Philippe's distrust and confusion of Jane. They stopped at a bar on the seafront and Pierre bought a bottle of rum before diverting to the free beach towel, squeezed between the clubs for vip.

"My house is behind the villa there," Jane said, stumbling a bit 'in the words while the rum returned to Pierre, who immediately went to Philippe. Maybe you Smolle a bit ', he thought, vaguely irritated. Philippe continued to make the claim - and it was used well, to be the sole focus of Pierre in those two months.

Pierre stopped. "You really want to go home now?" There's someone there waiting for you? "

"No," admitted Jane.

Pierre smiled and began to unbutton his shirt, looking over his shoulder Philippe. "For years, I do not do a midnight swim. Who is with me?" Continued to undress, and after a moment's hesitation, even Philippe followed. Pierre was completely naked and with the water already in the calf when he realized that Jane was still dressed, standing there with a bottle of rum in his hand.

"Are not you coming?" Pierre said, his arm encircling the life of Philippe, with the double objective to appease him and reassure her. "Look, this is exactly the kind of things we regret when we become adults, all those times when you have been watching others having fun." He realized that, after all, was not so long ago when he had the same age as Jane, but before she felt much more ... mature was not the right word. Sailed, here.

"You can keep your laundry, if you're more comfortable," granted, and penetrated into the warm water along with Philippe. When they were in it up to the waist and away from the lights, Philippe took his face in his hands and kissed him.

"You're a fucking asshole," said Pierre to his lips. The other grinned, stroking between her legs.

"Tell me something I do not know."

"What do you do with that girl?" muttered Philippe, premendoglisi him. Pierre kissed him again, and began nibbling on my ear, before saying:

"I want to fuck her. I want to fuck them both. And I know that we both want to fuck me, then at the end of this evening we will all be a bit 'happier. "Philippe looked into his eyes, suddenly serious." You always knew that it had the exclusive, Philippe. Did you know that I was with Charles and you come with me anyway. "

It seemed that Philippe was about to protest, but at that moment he heard a splash and turned to see both Jane, cautiously entered the water. Pierre did not could see, but it seemed to him that he was naked. He immersed himself and made a pair of arms to meet her.

"Come right ahead! The water is beautiful. "

held out his hand and drew her gently. She stumbled for a moment and Pierre felt her shudder." True that you okay? "he said. Jane nodded. He hesitated a moment and then said:

" You two are ... together? "

" It 's such a nice guy, I'd give wrong? "said Pierre, glancing at Philippe, which was approaching slowly, swimming.

" No, not really, "admitted Jane. Pierre laid his hand behind the back, beginning to caress her slowly. With his free hand, the water splashed in the face of Philippe.

"You are unbearable, tonight," whispered the boy. Philippe Pierre laughed and threw water on him in turn. They started to sketch as all three children, creating new reflections on the black surface illuminated from afar from lamp posts along the promenade.

the end, it is close, a bit 'breathless. "Are you okay? Are you tired?" asked Pierre to Jane, while returning to brush the sides under the water. She shook her head.

"Oh, I've had enough of this farce," Philippe said in his teeth, and drew her to him Pierre, abruptly. She kissed him aggressively. Like a chain reaction, Pierre blindly grabbed the arm of Jane, who ran into him again. He held her close to his side until Philippe did not break the kiss, and then Pierre turned to Jane, pressing his lips on her, making darting his tongue with ease in her mouth half open. She threw her arms around his neck, skin made the water cold, hard nipples, while Philippe, determined not to be left behind, he slipped a hand between two and stroking sex. Pierre groaned into the mouth of Jane.

They settled the case, with Pierre at the center that surrounded Jane with his right arm with the left and Philippe, kissing and touching in turn. The girl's hands were inexperienced, but also Pierre found himself pushing away a few times to avoid the risk of speeding up things too much. On the other hand, the situation gave new luster to the now familiar intimacy with Philippe - or perhaps it was he who, having for the first time a direct competitor, was more engaging.

"We go out," said Pierre to a Suddenly as Philippe was kissing him behind the ear and Jane, still a little 'drunk, stroking his lips the hollow of the shoulder.

"Why?" she sighed, "It feels so good here."

"Honey, do what we want to make a solid base of support is key, and then," he said, kissing the tip of the nose Philippe "I'm not going to end up in apnea."

Philippe laughed. "How true."

swam to shore, and Pierre imagined the scene as seen from the outside, the three of them coming out of the sea, horny and beautiful, like Venus born from the Mediterranean. For a moment, thought that this analogy should have passed to Charles, was the kind of things he liked, but the thought of his companion was immediately blown away by the other two, which again began to contenderselo to the sound of kisses and caresses. Rocambole some way towards a bed abandoned by someone else before them, had it stolen from a club of luxury.

Pierre sat down and, naturally, taken in the mouth sex Philippe who had been standing beside him. With the corner of his eye, he saw that Jane front lingered there, running a finger over the slot in the sex just hidden by the hair blonde. Pierre, Philippe without leaving even a second, spread her thighs and Jane got the message, crouching between his knees and began to do in Pierre that he was making the other guy. Pierre hoped that you were touching her as she did, it was true that he was an egomaniac, but that did not make him a selfish, or so he liked to think.

When Pierre dropped his hold on Philippe, a pearl strand remained attached to the lips. Grinning, he wiped with the back of his hand, watching the erection of Philippe. Very impressive. Perhaps the thing he was not displeased, after all.

"Slow down, love," she said. He raised his head at Jane, and Philippe was grateful to have had to focus on, because if he had the chance to watch that pretty little head going up and down between her thighs now he would be to have to take a break.

It took Jane in her lap, and she rubbed against his erection, feverishly. They began to touch each other. Philippe sat down beside them, thrusting a bit 'more of the foot of the bed in the sand. Pierre looked at him as he kissed Jane on the lips, then took the girl to move just enough that it can penetrate, while with a hand covered her breasts hard and round like a fruit a little more 'green.

Jane moaned, while he, piano, entered into at all. It was not a virgin, but was tight as a fist. They would have struggled if she had not been so wet: in proportion, was no less excited by Philippe.

began to move slowly, with Pierre glanced at her first, then to Philippe, who was watching them closely half curious, half hypnotized by the sight of Pierre fucking. And Pierre knew this, knew that she was more beautiful to be naked, and even better when he was having sex. It was his size: a state of absolute sensuality.

Jane She lay on the couch, taking up to bang her so, so that Philippe had full view of her ass was moving rhythmically, pushing in and out of her. Jane had her knees bent, feet in the air, rocking back and forth with each thrust, her eyes half shut. It was the very image of pleasure, and it was not long before Pierre felt Philippe's fingers that were beginning to tease him back, wet with saliva. The situation was soon made untenable. Then Pierre had an idea, and drew back momentarily from Jane to screw with your fingers in turn, pointing with her feet on the sand, pushing the pelvis toward him. He had shortness of breath and looked at him as if he wanted to eat, which gave Pierre a deep satisfaction. He felt like a mentor who had brought to light the work of art hidden inside that shy girl.

"I bet you touched a lot, alone in college," he said. Jane did not answer, his head bent forward, chin glued to his chest in an effort to contain all those feelings, while from his mouth pants that did not come out broken.

Pierre took out the sex of the girl fingers now wet, slimy, and used them on himself. Barely had time to slip back into her that she felt Philippe spingerglisi in, in an echo of feelings for a moment that left him breathless. It was the total experience that was looking for.

Their movements slowed, and Jane began to push against him with more momentum, a little 'out of sync, but it did not matter. The feeling that the purpose of Philippe, the sex that Jane seemed to suck all the pleasure of the world. Pierre was freaking out. He tilted his neck to look at Philippe, and surprised him with her eyes closed, a vertical wrinkle that furrowed his brow in an expression of intense concentration. His hair, normally wearing slicked to perfection, they were dried in disheveled curls that framed her face.

has never looked so good thought Pierre. At that moment, he felt distinctly Jane muscles tighten around him in rhythmic contractions, and she moaned loudly. It was too much, and that was enough Philippe pushed a bit 'away, with the right angle, because Pierre lost all control and is not pulled back in time, coming in at Jane with a violence to bend your knees. It was she away from him, only to climb on the back reclined the bed, demanding the full treatment, placing the sex button again and stretched in front of his face. Pierre, exhausted, felt a sort of admiration for her. Here's what I really envy women: the potential to repeat the miracle virtually infinite. With the erection delayed to come down and Philippe to pump with more fury within him, Pierre began to lick between the legs of Jane, feeling their flavors mingle, sucking the clitoris swollen. The sides accompanying the movement of Philippe, and soon it was the turn of the latter to yield.

Pierre felt the warm gush squirt inside. The circle was closed, and after a while even Jane, who had not lost a single second scene, stiffened against his mouth, muttering something like: cock, his arms were trembling from the effort to balance on the edge of the bed. He slid forward, panting and cuddling up with your knees close to his chest in a position with naive and obscene. Pierre in turn picked up her legs and looked back at Philippe, who had returned to sit in the far end of the bed, stroking the sex a little 'and painful on the way dell'inflaccidimento.

He felt an unpleasant sensation. He was exhausted, but at the same time thought it was over too soon. Maybe taking more calmly ...

"How about," he said to Philippe "... The two of you could do something now. Jane thinks you're a nice guy. You could touch you a little 'while I look."

Philippe glared. "You're kidding " he hissed. "There 's been long gone. But I'm not your fucking puppet." Took a few steps farther to go to retrieve my clothes.

"Come on," Pierre said, irritated. "It was just an idea. The evening will not end well. You like, no? E 'from Nice that you are not so hard." Nice

was where they met with Charles that there was a blind eye. Philippe was literally thrown at the feet of Pierre. You're my favorite actor, had said. I've seen all your movies.

All three?, Said Pierre, with his best smile.

putting on pants, Philippe shook his head with a laugh of derision. "If you continue to pull the rope at some point breaks, and certainly not when you decide. You do not understand people, Pierre. Indeed, I hope you do not understand. ... Because if you do it on purpose if you do it on purpose, you will break all the bones, shit. " In the end, beneath the veneer of sophistication that was carefully constructed, Philippe had brought out the bully who had been a time of Marseille. Jane picked up her clothes and threw them to the girl. "Here, I'll take you home."

Pierre swung round towards her. "Did he accompanied me later if you will," he said. "We can be a little more 'together."

seemed that the fire had been extinguished in her all at once, because it was back to talk to him without being able to look into his eyes. "No, I'm going with him .... I am a bit 'tired."

Pierre suppressed hysterical laughter. A little 'tired! She had mounted as a cat in heat up to two minutes before! Two ungrateful, that's what they were. They did everything they wanted?

Jane moved away a few steps to slip the dress over her head. He had to leave so quickly that not even started looking for the laundry in the sand. With shoes in hand, waited for the Philippe and then resumed their walk toward the house of the Countess, without ever looking back.

Pierre watched them leave, incredulous and angry. He had no wish to return to the apartment she had rented the first two weeks with Philippe. He went to clothe himself, and retrieved the bottle of rum: there was still half, and it was a waste to leave it there for the first bum that passed, admitted that there were homeless people in Saint-Tropez.

***

Saint-Tropez, November 24, 2003

She stops to buy cigarettes in Rue du Clocher, and sees a small crowd outside the church door. From clothing and attitude Overall, there is no doubt that this is a funeral.

is coming, driven by a morbid curiosity. It's not that old, but many of his generation if they are already gone, like the world to which he belonged had disintegrated under his eyes. And Charles was the first to leave, the most painful, the void that has never been more filled.

Before the coffin, leaving two men who hold a crown of flowers. There above the name of the Countess. By now he must have had a nice age. His funeral was full of people. Pierre wonders if this is proved to have been loved in life, and the answer is that there is no answer. This can only know the main character of that particular representation.

E 'then note that Jane, a little' secluded in the procession. A slender woman with a blonde mane to Sharon Stone and a black suit, Pierre must make an effort to reconnect to both the beauty of the vulgar mother, and the girl without makeup and her hair she had known as a hippie. For a moment, think of them a sign, but then accuses mentally. It is not the case.

I found her later that afternoon when he stopped in a cafe reading the newspaper. He calls it: "Pierre? Grenard Pierre?"

He turns to look at her, amazed. She smiles.

"Never thought I'd see you again. How many years have passed?"

"Thirty," he says without hesitation. The passing of time appears to him painfully clear every time you look in the mirror. "I saw you first, past the funeral. But I thought I would not come near me. Indeed, condolences."

They shake hands formally, and after ordering a chocolate Jane says:

"I wish I could say it is a bad time to bring up the past, but the truth is that now I feel good. The worst is behind us."

"He suffered?"

"Not for long," says Jane tinker with a packet of sugar. "For someone who is drunk and drugged at the time, came over with an almost perfect health. Then decayed quickly. "

" I understand. "

not speak for a while 'when comes the chocolate, and Pierre continued to sip his beer Belgian now flat. And' Jane broke the silence.

" Have you seen ... what was his name ... Philippe, after that time we met? "

My God, think of Pierre. The only experience I have in common with this person is an orgy. This is not the puzzle, but a bit strange '. That era is over, and that life seems to belong to another person.

"No," he says dryly. "He took his things and left."

Jane mixes the chocolate, with a smile vague on the lips. Do not say it, but it is as if he did: what did you expect?

***

Epilogue: Saint-Tropez, August 14, 1973

Pierre awoke on the couch, stoned and numb moisture from rum. The sky was gray and dense single surface.

He shuffled away from the beach. It was six. Charles was awake almost certainly already working on the script. Pierre felt in his pockets looking for loose change and went into the first phone booth in sight.

The phone rang a few times.

" Allô? ," said Charles, as he fell the first token.

"It's me," said Pierre, in Italian. Expectations that the other should say something, but did not.

"I wanted to hear," he added. He heard her sigh on the other end.

"Why are you already awake? Not like you," said the older man.

"I got drunk and slept on the beach."

"Philippe And what happened?" said Carlo. There was no provocation in his voice Pierre was sure he had already learned all infierisse and not only out of pity.

"He's gone. I do not think that will come back," he said, and when they uttered the second sentence, put there just to fill the silence, he knew it was true. He felt tears forming unexpected corners of his eyes.

"Oh, Pierre," said Charles, sadly, under the "clunk" of another chip. "When will the put down?"

"Excuse me," Pierre said, rolling his eyes in a vain attempt to quell the tears. "I'm sorry. ... I do not do not do it on purpose."

Again silence. Charles Pierre pictured in his studio, in front of the Olivetti typewriter, surrounded by leaflets and folders full of documents collected meticulously. The smell of ink and old wood, the faint scent of cologne. The turntable, which alternated between Mozart and Sanremo.

Pierre thought of everything this and felt a nostalgia to the limit of physical pain. Why always ended up behaving as if they cared?

"Never mind," Charles was saying. "Back in Paris. Go home."

Pierre finally let the tears ran down his cheeks. A warm caress.

"Yes," whispered before it went down the line. "Homecoming."