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innuendostudios · 2 months

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new video about Edgar Wright's Cornetto Trilogy, and how everyone* keeps getting them wrong! this video is sponsored by Nebula, a place where you can watch the original version of this video before I had to tweak it for YouTube's copyright bots. (by clicking that link, you can get an annual subscription for 40% off.) or you can just back me on Patreon, which is also cool and good.

transcript below the cut.

I adore Edgar Wright’s Cornetto Trilogy. I flirted with making a video about it ages ago, had a draft of a script, but ultimately decided it wasn’t about anything except “here’s a thing I like, and here are its (I thought) very obvious themes.” So I shelved it. But, in the years since, I have seen multiple video essayists on this here website claim that these movies are about growing up and taking responsibility. (I say “multiple.” It’s not a lot. But it’s more than one! And that’s enough.)

These people are 100% wrong.

Lemme lay it out: the Cornetto Trilogy is not about growing up. It is not about taking responsibility. It is the exact opposite, and that’s not subtext. It is three movies about stunted manchildren thrust into extraordinary circumstances, and each, in the end, is saved - is redeemed - by abandoning his character arc and failing to grow or change. It is a three-part love letter to immaturity.

And I guess I have to set the record straight.

Sometimes making a video about a thing you love is an act of appreciation. And sometimes it’s out of spite.

The Cornetto Trilogy is three movies: Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and The World’s End. All three are written by Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright; Pegg stars, and Wright directs; all three center on a relationship between Pegg and real-life best friend Nick Frost, which makes each film a reunion of the core team behind Spaced (excepting, but for a small role in Shaun of the Dead, Jessica Hynes). The three films span three genres: zombie apocalypse, buddy cop, alien invasion; each features a Cornetto ice cream cone: strawberry to represent blood, original blue to represent the police, and mint to represent little green men; this is a joking nod to Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Trois Couleur films, Bleu, Blanc, and Rouge, which were based on the colors and themes of the French flag (I don’t care what you say, Emily: #TeamRouge); that nod is funny because Trois Couleur is high-art drama and these are comedies. All three are parodies of, tributes to, and actually surprisingly good executions of their respective genres. And the hook, the gag at the center of all these movies, is that Simon Pegg plays a character wholly unsuited to be starring in this kind of film.

Shaun, the burnout, is the wrong person to survive the zombie apocalypse; by-the-book British bobby Nicholas is the wrong person to lead an American-style bombastic actioner; and alcoholic asshole Gary is the last person to save the world from aliens.

And I think that’s where people get stuck. Because “schlub finds himself protagonist of a genre film” is the elevator pitch for like a dozen Adam Sandler movies. The genre trappings may be as mundane as parenthood or mandated anger management classes, or as high-concept as action movie, whodunnit, or time travel It’s a Wonderful Life if Clarence were Christopher Walken as the angel of death (that… that makes it sound good, it’s not, don’t see Click; leave Frank Capra alone, Adam). But all these movies have the same basic shape: an extraordinary situation forces a guy to confront his shortcomings, which always stem from having never grown up. And you probably haven’t seen all of these movies, but if you’ve seen any, I bet you have assumptions about how the rest end: even though “Adam Sandler acts like a child” is generally the selling point of an Adam Sandler movie, they all end with some lip service toward becoming an adult: hey man, grow up a bit; appreciate your family a little more; square your shoulders; clean your room. This is so standard, it was parodied mercilessly in Funny People.

And this was a formative microgenre for my generation! Whole universe turns itself upside down to teach some shitty dude to, like, do the dishes and pay his wife a compliment now and then - Liar Liar, Bruce and Evan Almighty (all directed by the same guy, by the way). So I don’t blame people of a certain age for seeing the first act of Shaun of the Dead and thinking “I know where this is going.” And when, at the last minute, it swerves and goes someplace else, you could read that as a gag, a final subversion of expectation, still the same basic shape. But no! No! Once is a gag - thrice??? Thrice is a thematic statement!

So lemme make my case. I’ma take you through these movies one by one - we’ll talk about the manchildren and the expectations set by the genre, and then we’ll talk about that last-minute swerve and what it means. And then you’ll tell me I’m right and apologize!

Shaun of the Dead:

Shaun is a man in his twenties. What kind of manchild is he? He’s the slacker.

What is his problem? He needs to sort his life out. Shaun doesn’t know how to take action. He hasn’t advanced since college - he’s been working the kind of job a teen takes over the summer for like a decade, lives with the same best friend, has the same petty fights with his stepdad, goes to the same pub every week with the same group of people. He can’t make a reservation, he can’t manage a calendar, he’s a washup. This makes his girlfriend, Liz, feel stifled, trapped; he is a weight around her ankle, taking her on the same date week after week, keeping her from living her own dreams, having her own adventures. She gives him one last chance to prove he can sort his life out, and he blows it, and she dumps him.

And then: a zombie movie happens.

The genre forces him to confront his shortcomings: to survive, and save his loved ones, he’ll have to take action, make plans, be decisive. This is a common fantasy: when you feel ground down by the mundanity of life, you might imagine, oh, if only a crisis would happen, like a zombie virus outbreak, where my normal-life problems like “am I gonna make rent,” “is my girl gonna take me back,” “is my roommate gonna kick out my stoner buddy who’s crashing on the couch” become meaningless, and it’s immediately clear what’s really important, what matters. Then I’d know exactly what to do. It’s why disaster movies work as escapism: a necromantic plague - or at least the fantasy of one - is sometime preferable to normal life.

Hot Fuzz:

Nicholas is a man in his thirties. What kind of manchild is he? He’s the hall monitor.

What is his problem? He can’t switch off. He is a hypercompetant police officer with a rulebook where his brain should be. He’s so good at being a cop that he’s spotting and unraveling crimes even on his day off. He can’t maintain a relationship, has no friends, all his coworkers hate him because he keeps finishing their work for them, and his stats show up the rest of the force so badly that they scuttle him out to the country.

Now you might be thinking, “Mmm. A fastidious police officer who can’t have fun? How is that a manchild? Sounds pretty grown-up to me. You’re reaching, bud.” Ohhhh ho ho, smartass, do you remember this scene? [bar scene] Yeah! Nicholas Angel has a five-year-old’s notion of law and order. He’s still playing cops and robbers.

And that’s a problem, because then: an action movie happens.

It doesn’t happen all at once: he goes out to the country and finds they do things a bit differently there. They are (ostensibly) less concerned with rules than what than the rules are for: if the purpose of drinking laws is to keep the streets safe and orderly, and letting some people off with a warning or allowing kids drink so long as they do it inside achieves that end, the rule can be bent. That’s a judgment grown-ups can make; I mean, they’re the ones who wrote the rules in the first place. So be lenient with shoplifters, don’t hassle people for speeding; this isn’t the Big City, you can use your better judgment. But Nicholas never got past doing whatever Mom & Dad said; obedience, and trusting whoever’s up the chain, is his entire moral framework. He can’t accept that bending the law could be more righteous than following it.

But also maybe there’s a criminal conspiracy murdering people and writing it off as accidents and the police chief might be in on it. Or maybe Nicholas is so desperate for a big case with no moral ambiguity that he’s seeing things where they aren’t.

The genre forces him to confront his shortcomings: either there’s nothing going on and he needs to chill out about procedure, or the department is corrupt and he’ll have to go rogue like it’s Point Break - and this is how he experiences Point Break. [“paperwork”]

No matter what, he’ll have to bend the rules, which he constitutionally cannot do.

The World’s End:

Gary is a man in his forties. What kind of manchild is he? He’s the delinquent.

What’s his problem? Pfffft. What isn’t his problem? Gary is a manipulative, narcissistic, lying, self-destructive, ignorant, violent, thieving, shit-talking, unapologetic asshole who peaked in high school when being all those things was still kind of badass. The greatest night of his life was the drunken pub crawl after graduation he and his friends didn’t even finish, and he’s been tumbling downhill ever since. He’s spent his life ruining everyone who knows him until there’s no one left to ruin but Gary King. So now it’s time to bully the old gang into going back home with him to relive that night by finishing the pub crawl, because, in his own words, it’s all he’s got. And he and his friends have to confront how home has changed since they left - the bars have gentrified, not everyone recognizes them; the defining, epic deeds of Gary’s youth have been forgotten. You can’t actually go back because that place doesn’t exist anymore.

And then: a sci-fi movie happens.

Turns out the town’s been taken over by aliens, and all the people who couldn’t conform to their new order have been replaced with robots! That’s why no one recognizes them! And that’s why the pubs all look the same: the aliens are homogenizing everything! And it’s clear, if they can’t get Gary and his friends to play ball, they’ll roboticize them as well! The obvious move is to get the hell out of town, but Gary keeps inventing excuses to stay and finish the pub crawl, and they sound pretty sensible because the group’s already five pints in. The genre forces him to confront his shortcomings: sooner or later he’s gonna have to give up on recapturing his youth and do what’s best for him and his friends now, even if it means running back to the city where all his problems live.

So there we have it: the characters cross the threshold into an unfamiliar world where an external conflict cannot be addressed without resolving the tension within. The slacker will have to get his shit sorted, the hall monitor will have to break the rules, and the delinquent will have to do what’s good for him. And, to an extent, all three know this! The movies Wright and Pegg pay homage to exist in these stories - Shaun knows what a zombie is, Danny keeps Nicholas up watching Point Break and Bad Boys II, and Gary and friends know bodysnatcher movies so well they have philosophical debates with the robots about whether “robot” is the PC term.

So, yeah, if you turned the movies off there, I could forgive you for thinking that’s where they’re headed. But you goofballs watched them to the end and then made content about them, what is wrong with you???

What actually happens in the second halves of these movies?

Shaun twigs that he’s in a zombie movie and, at first, tries to play the part - his survival plans are miniature hero’s journeys with him as protagonist, wherein he’ll save the day by neatly confronting all his flaws. He’ll resolve parental conflict by saving his mom from his zombified stepdad, resolve romantic conflict by showing his girl he can come through when it counts, and resolve internal conflict by being a man who saves the day. And all his plans suck! It’s just the same plan he always comes up with! Dragging around the same useless liability of a bestie, collecting the same group of people, and holing up in the same pub! He doesn’t save his mom: his stepdad apologizes, resolving their conflict for him, and then survives in zombie form but Shaun’s mom gets killed; most of the friend group gets killed because the crisis does not actually suspend but in fact amplifies their personal grievances; and he doesn’t save the day, just manages not to die long enough for the military to show up.

But… well, Liz wanted adventure and now she’s had enough for a lifetime, so… she’s down to just be boring with him for a while - sit on the couch, watch TV, hit the pub. Beats running for your life. Tensions with the roommate are gone cuz roommate died, but rent is covered cuz Liz moved in. Zombies don’t get eradicated, just folded into normal life, so Shaun can mindlessly play video games with his bestie forever, and it’s not a problem that bestie doesn’t have an income cuz he doesn’t need food or shelter.

The zombie apocalypse doesn’t make Shaun sort his life out, it changes the world til he doesn’t have to.

When Nicholas discovers that, yes, there is definitely a murderous criminal conspiracy inside the police department, he recognizes the only way to bring about justice is to become what Danny has always wanted and go Dirty Harry on the town. It’s either that or just swallow the crimes. But he does neither. He and Danny go on an epic shooting spree, recreating famous movie scenes, taking out the entire criminal organization against all odds, and spouting badass one-liners… but everyone who helps them is a cop, they don’t actually kill anyone, all perps are formally arrested, and they fill out all the paperwork. I think he even properly signs out the weapons. He never switches off, never breaks a rule, does absolutely everything by the book, only… louder. And this violent showdown saves him from the chill town with lax rules he thought he’d moved to. Now he, with his five-year-old notion of right and wrong, is in charge of the police department.

The buddy cop actioner doesn’t make Nicholas bend the rules, it changes the world til he doesn’t have to.

Gary knows exactly how a movie of this sort is supposed to go and spends the whole movie running from it. Friends and secondary characters keep sharing these poignant moments with him, because they know this story, too: yeah, he’s gonna reject help at first, but sooner or later he’ll hit rock bottom and then someone will get through to him. And, as the night goes on, and the characters get drunker and drunker, and Gary passes up more and more opportunities to abandon the pub crawl and go home, these moments take a tone of desperation. They start to sound more like interventions; like, Gary, we all know you’re going to come to your senses but could you hurry up with it??? How many of your friends need to literally die for you to shape up? Are you gonna get them all killed?

And the answer is: Gary will never shape up! To Gary the Human Dril Tweet, his friends trying to save him, psychiatrists trying to treat him, and aliens trying to assimilate him are all the same thing. He doggedly makes it to the end of the pub crawl and confronts the alien overlord who tells him all the technological advancements of the past few decades - all the efficiency and homogenization that’ve changed the face of his home town - are their doing. The Information Age is an intervention on behalf of Earth, a pan-galactic effort to save humanity from itself. And the reason they’ve been replacing people with robots is some people are too fucked up to go along with it.

And here’s Gary, King of the Fuckups, brashly declaring that fucking up is what makes us human. There is no freedom without the freedom to ruin your life. We are endowed by our creator with the right to be drunken, ornery pieces of shit.

He tells the aliens to piss off and he’s so fucking annoying that they do, and they take the Information Age with them.

Now… I know… ugh… I know a lot of people love this movie, say it’s the best of the three. Some friends who’ve struggled with mental health or just being an adult under late capitalism really identify with Gary, and the valorization of being a mess. I see you, you’re not wrong, I get it, I really do. But can we just… not “but” but “also” can we… can we also admit that this ending is… this is Space Brexit.

Like, literally it’s an alien invasion but symbolically this is Gary rejecting the adult world of rules and authority and doing what’s best for the community and that’s how Brexiters view the EU. And people keep telling him “Gary, this is in your best interest” and Gary says, I don’t want my best interest! I am registered in the anti-Gary’s Face Party and I will cast my vote by cutting my nose! I choose to do what’s bad for me.

And, like a true Brexiter, he chooses for everybody.

Now tell me that’s a movie about growing up. Gary collapses human civilization in its entirety rather than change, and in the world that follows, he thrives… by being an immature, irresponsible bag of garbage.

To Wright and Pegg, growing up is death, and these are movies about being alive. These characters don’t cross the threshold back into the ordinary world with the ultimate boon of character growth; all three stay in the extraordinary world. The zombies remain, the robots remain, Nicholas is offered his London job back and chooses to stay in the country. These are stories about normal life spontaneously turning into a genre film, and they are made with deep love for those genres; why would they end with leaving those genres behind? Because it’s what Adam Sandler would do?

So there you have it. I rest my case.

“Okay Ian. Why does this matter?”

…what was that?

“You’ve made your point: these movies aren’t about growing up or taking responsibility. So what?”

Uhhhh.

“Bring it home for us.”

…

“Why do you care so much?

[breath]

I wrote the first draft of this script when I was around Shaun and Nicholas’ age, and “so what?” is why I shelved it. Now I’m Gary’s age, this video’s been in the back of my brain the whole time, but I got this far and “so what” is where I got stuck, again. This is why the CO-VIDs came out quicker, cuz I let myself end with “so that’s interesting!” and got on with my life. But there’s clearly something sticky here, more than “someone is wrong on the internet.” (Also, to the YouTubers I’m vaguebooking, who said these were movies about growing up - I’m way more annoyed at the folks I’ve argued with on Twitter about this, you just made a better rhetorical device; you do not owe me an apology!) (Also, to the commentariat: I am not extrapolating this from like two data points, this is chronic and recurring and has been bothering me for years.)

There are a few directions I could take this to give it some “cultural weight.” I could put on my social justice hat and talk about how the “crisis of adulthood” doesn’t play as broad comedy unless you look like Adam Sandler or Simon Pegg, or put on my class analysis hat and talk about how signifiers of adulthood are, traditionally, ways of spending and accruing capital which are, today, often inaccessible to people under 40.

And that’s all legit, but here’s the real deal: I’m just mad at Gary. The world changed around Shaun such that he could stay a child. And Nicholas ended up somewhere he could stay a child. If you missed that, you’re wrong, but whatever. But to say that Gary grew up grinds me, because Gary chose this. The whole movie is people telling him to grow up, and he says no! He says it out loud! He says it to the literal end of the world. To walk out of the theater and say “that’s a movie about growing up” is more than a mistake, it’s a refusal. It’s trying to “fix” the movie by fitting it into a more familiar shape, so it doesn’t say what it says, so Gary isn’t who he is, who he chooses to be.

I’m being cheeky when I say this because he’s a fictional character, but saying Gary grew up is enabling.

Gary says there’s no freedom without the freedom to ruin your life, which is the problem with alcoholics and libertarians: it’s not just your life, Gary! You live in a community, a culture, and an ecosystem! Your actions - everybody’s actions - impact other people! That’s just the way the world is! You can’t shit yourself at the bar without other people having to smell it. We’re all fuckin’ connected, man! You don’t want anyone’s will imposed on you; you spend the whole movie imposing your will on everyone else! You say humans don’t wanna be told what to do, and then you decide humanity’s future by yourself with no input or consent from anyone!

People point to Gary ordering water in the last scene instead of beer as evidence that he got sober, like that’s proof that he did grow up in the end, which are you fucking joking??? Getting sober is a shorthand for maturity the way buying a house is, it doesn’t signify anything in and of itself! Gary drank to escape the adult world of rules and responsibilities! So, yeah, under normal circumstances getting sober would mean he’s made peace with that world and is ready to integrate. But that’s not what happened! The thing he was escaping doesn’t exist anymore! He literally destroyed it!! People died! Probably millions! Now he lives a happy life LARPing as Omega Doom - no I don’t expect you to catch that reference! He doesn’t need to drink! He is literally reliving the best day of his life forever. And even if it did mean personal growth, the idea that a person could make what would be, unequivocally, the most selfish decision in human history, and then spend his life celebrating the outcome, oh but if he overcame a personal demon in the process then on balance that’s maturity? That is lightspeed solipsism! Who are you if you think that way? Are you all Adam Sandler???

And none of that makes this a bad ending, or Gary a bad character. I mean, he is the reason The World’s End is my least favorite, and I don’t like the ending, but I don’t think it’s bad that I don’t like the ending. Rather than watch another addict pull his life together or destroy himself, we watch a downward spiral with so much gravity the whole world self-destructs alongside him. And that’s why The World’s End is the most interesting of the three: it is a bold choice, and I think we are free to feel however we want about the conclusion Gary engineered for himself. I don’t think it’s valid to pretend it didn’t happen.

In the context of the trilogy, we see that Shaun’s immaturity is mostly a problem for Shaun: he would be, at worst, a footnote in the lives of the people who love him; “yeah, I liked Shaun a lot, but I couldn’t carry him through life anymore.” Nicholas is the kind of overachiever that is useful if pointed in the right direction; juvenile code of ethics aside, he is, empirically, helping the community (within the entirely fictional framework where that’s a thing police do). If the world hadn’t changed to turn their flaws into strengths, they would still be relatively harmless. Gary is what happens when immaturity isn’t harmless, and shows us how a world built by that immaturity would look.

There is an appeal to Gary King, a wish fulfillment. Letting your id fully off the leash because you no longer care what anybody thinks - it’s why some people drink, and it’s why some people would like to drink with Gary. But if that’s not just your Friday night, not just your twenties, but that’s your life? There is a destination at the end of that road, and it’s Gary doing something truly ugly. And we see that ugly thing the way Gary sees it: as awesome. But then you see the reality: the Monday morning after the Friday night. We went out with Gary and he did something terrible.

And I’m not telling you to hate Gary for it; I’m not saying Gary can’t be forgiven. In fact, seeing it for what it is is the only way Gary could be forgiven, because, if he “grew up and took responsibility,” there’s nothing to forgive.

I think this is the only way the trilogy could have ended. I mean, you make stories about boys who get older and older and don’t grow up, it eventually becomes a problem. There’s only two ways to resolve it: you either end with a guy actually sorting his shit out, or you go for broke and show what happens if he doesn’t. And I think some of us boys saw that and said, “no, noooo, they did grow up! all three of them!” rather than say, “haha! hahaaa! ……………shit.”

#video essay #cornetto trilogy #Youtube

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homomenhommes · 18 days

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saga: SOUMISSION / DOMINATION 158

La Dominique fin de séjour et retour

Le séjour touche à sa fin, j'ai acquis une jolie couleur brun foncé tout comme Marc. Sauf sur les fesses et le sexe où j'ai réussi (maillot aidant) à garder un bandeau horizontal blanc d'environ 12cm de hauteur. Dans la glace, j'ai pu voir l'effet sur mes fesses. Très sexe ! le haut des fesses et le début de la raie sont bronzé alors qu'en dessous je suis resté blanc.

Deux jours avant notre départ, notre approvisionneur en chairs fraîches est arriv�� avec un jeune homme. Teinte café au lait, physique de rêve, 1,80m pour 65 Kg environ musclé type natation avec des pecs bien marqués et de beaux abdos, avec une belle tête aux lèvres épaisses et rouge vif. Je n'ai pu m'empêcher de bander et Marc aussi. Vu notre accoutrement, il était difficile de cacher notre intérêt.

Le mec nous l'a présenté et nous a dit que c'était le bonus de notre séjour (bonus réservé aux bons clients). Nous serions ses premiers clients même si nous ne serions pas ses premiers mecs ! (je ne sais pas si c'était vrai, mais cela en avait l'illusion).

Après un bref moment de jalousie nos deux jeunes Toy-boy ont accepté le petit nouveau allant même lui confier dans un espagnol rapide nos caractéristiques et nos envies particulières. (Je ne parle pas cette langue mais Marc la maîtrise parfaitement ce qu'il n'ont jamais su).

J'ai laissé Marc en profiter en premier. Si nous étions ses premiers clients, il est a noter qu'il en connaissait un bout sur le sexe masculin. Dès sa première pipe, il a avalé sans sourcilier les 22cm de Marc. Avide de faire connaissance avec ses amygdales, je suis venu m'asseoir au coté de Marc et notre jeune recrue a alterné nos queues. Marc bien excité par la situation a demandé à un des Toys de lui préparer le cul. Les gémissements de plaisir qui coulait le long de nos bites dès que nous lui libérions temporairement la gorge nous ont prouvé qu'il prenait du plaisir lui aussi.

Je laissais à Marc la primeur de son trou. Kpoté, il l'a pris en levrette alors que, ses bras en appuis sur mes cuisses il continuait à me sucer.

Assis dans le canapé sur la terrasse, je me faisais piper et j'avais sous mes yeux la vue d'un superbe dos large, taille et hanches étroites enserrées par les mains fortes de Marc puis les rondeurs de ses fesses écartées par la bite de mon homme qui coulissait dedans pour leur plus grand plaisir à tous les deux.

Très très excitant ! j'ai vite mis mes mains derrières sa tête et j'ai donné le rythme de la pipe. Sans montrer de faiblesse, il a vaillamment pris mes 20cm x5 complets à chaque pénétration de sa gorge. J'ai adoré vois ses grosses lèvres rouge vif entourer ma bite et la faire disparaître entièrement. Quand Marc s'est mis à accélérer le rythme, j'ai su qu'il n'allait pas tarder à remplir sa kpote. Notre jeune homme l'a senti aussi et s'est déhanché pour l'achever. Sans cesser de me sucer, il l'a fait jouir avec une maestria digne d'un pro du sexe.

Moi je l'ai vite suivi et j'ai juste eu le temps de sortir de sa bouche avant de lui en mettre plein le visage et le dos.

Nous nous sommes tous les trois douchés avec l'aide de nos deux Toys-boys. Comme ces derniers bandaient à se faire mal, Marc leur a dit de faire un 69 et nous les avons matés enfoncés dans les grands fauteuils en osier de la terrasse, le jeunot sur les genoux de Marc.

Sans délaisser nos Toys, c'est quand même avec notre " bonus " que nous avons le plus baisé jusqu'au départ. Un " Jimmy black " ça ne se laisse pas de coté !

Nous avons revu notre " organisateur " le matin du départ. Ils nous a demandé notre avis concernant le service. Marc et moi avons été d'accord. Parfait ! les mecs proposés très bien, bonne mentalité (pute mais pas trop), physiques parfaits et motivation de tous les instants, nous nous sommes répandus en remarques positives. Nous avons passés sous silence les enveloppes que nous avons remis à chacun , cela ne le regardait pas. Pour finir nous lui avons dit que si des amis venait à passer un séjour en république dominicaine, nous leur indiquerions ses coordonnées.

Retour en France :

Nouvel avion, nouvel équipage. Je passe la moitié du voyage à mater et utiliser les services de notre steward. Jouant de ma langue sur mes lèvres et de poses aguichantes, j'en arrive à le faire bander ferme sous son pantalon de tergal. J'arrive même à passer ma main sur la bosse que fait son sexe lors d'un réapprovisionnement en champagne (1ère classe oblige). Il s'isole aux toilettes et revient 5mn plus tard le devant du pantalon plat ! Marc à qui rien n'a échappé, me gronde et me dit que j'aurais du l'accompagner, la nuit aidant, la plus part des passager dormaient, ça ne se serait pas vu.

Ni une ni deux, je rappelle notre serveur et quand il approche le fait choir d'un pied opportunément sorti dans l'allée. Je le retiens et le tire vers moi pour lui rouler un patin. Surpris il se laisse faire. Je lui glisse à l'oreille que je veux le voir dans 10mn aux toilettes puis le relâche.

J'attends et à l'heure dite, il se glisse aux toilettes sans verrouiller. Je vérifie que tout le monde dors (hormis Marc) et discrètement le rejoint.

Il est encore habillé quand je rentre. Nous nous roulons une pelle d'enfer. J'aime sa langue nerveuse qui se bat avec la mienne. Ma main vérifie qu'il bande à nouveau. C'est le cas. Sa main fait de même sur moi et constate que je suis dans le même état. Je fais glisser son pantalon sur ses chevilles et le tourne vers la carlingue. Il trébuche et prend appuis sur le fuselage de ses deux mains. J'en profite pour baisser mes jeans et me kpoter dans le mouvement. Une noisette de gel sur le gland et je le pousse entre des fesses étroites. Il se cambre pour faciliter le positionnement. Je sens sa rosette au bout de mon gland et donne un petit coup de rein. Ça rentre comme dans du beure ! je me penche sur son dos et tout bas le traite de salope. Il tourne la tête, me roule un patin puis me demande si j'aime ça. Je le lui prouve aussitôt par de grand coups de reins qui le fendent en deux. Il hâlette tout bas essayant de faire le moins de bruit possible. Je le laboure consciencieusement et il apprécie la chose. De lui même il bascule le bassin et recule pour venir au devant de ma queue. La place est compté et la seule autre position que nous pouvons prendre, c'est moi assis sur la cuvette des WC et lui assis sur ma bite. Mais j'aime moins car je ne maîtrise pas la sodomie. Nous reprenons alors la posture première pour nous terminer. Mes mains sur ses hanches, je le fait coulisser sur ma queue à la vitesse nécessaire à mon " épanouissement ". Je ne tarde pas et explose dan son cul comme il se vide dans les WC. Petite toilette dans le mini lavabo et je sors le premier. Je tombe nez à nez avec l'hôtesse de l'air de notre secteur qui me demande si son collègue est bientôt libre car ils ne vont pas tarder à servir un petit déjeuner. Je l'assure, avec un grand sourire, que maintenant c'est une histoire de secondes. Il sort aussitôt. Légère bousculade de nos trois corps dans cet espace réduit. J'entends un " c'était bon ? " de l'hôtesse et un " très " de l'enculé suivit d'un " t'as de la chance " légèrement jaloux, avant qu'ils ne rejoignent leur zone de préparation.

Je reprend ma place. Marc lève des yeux interrogateurs vers moi. Je lui dis que c'était sympa et qu'il avait un super cul étroit comme j'aime en enfiler.

La fin de notre vol s'est fait en 1ère classe +, due à la complicité " client / fournisseur " que nous avions développée plus tôt.

A Roissy, au sortir de l'avion, j'ai félicité le personnel pour la qualité de leur service et avec un clin d'oeil au steward que j'avais eu sur ma bite, je les ai remercié pour l'expérience que j'avais connue, rires contenus de l'hôtesse qui savait la chose. Au sortir de la douane, Samir et Jimmy nous attendaient. Marc demande a Samir si tout c'était bien passé, réponse positive. Jimmy quand à lui m'a sauté dans les bras, un vrai gamin ! Je laisse le chariot à bagage à Samir et nous le suivons jusqu'à la voiture. Jimmy me pousse à l'arrière et prend place à mes cotés. Marc s'assoit à l'avant et laisse le volant à Samir. Nous ne sommes pas sortis de l'aéroport que Jimmy commence à me dire tout ce qui s'est passé pour lui, me faisant un rapport détaillé des 15 jours. Il m'a rassuré quand au fait qu'aller seul aux rendez vous n'avait pas entrainé de comportements différents / violents de la part de nos clients. Le fait d'être seul a juste entrainé un allongement des séances de pas loin d'1/2 heure, rien de bien méchant. Samir reprenant sur le sujet m'a dit qu'heureusement que j'avais prévenu les clients d'Ed que c'était lui (Samir) qui l'accompagnait, sinon certains lui auraient fait des difficultés. Quand je pense que cela ne les gène pas de se faire un ptit beur, ça m'énerve un peu. Il m'a dit aussi qu'au retour des séances, à la demande d'Ed, il lui avait travaillé le cul au donjon pour le préparer au gang bang. Comme je lui demandais son avis sur son état d'avancement, il me dit qu'il était aussi prêt que Jimmy, même si il n'aura jamais la spontanéité physique et musculaire de ce dernier. Jimmy se trémousse à mes cotés, tout fier du compliment. Sa main posée sur ma cuisse remonte et vient me masser le paquet. Je bande direct . Nous sommes sur l'autoroute, je le laisse défaire ma ceinture et déboutonner mes jeans. Ma bite sort comme un diablotin de sa boite et il se penche vivement pour la couvrir de sa bouche. Marc le gronde de sa place avant. Cela ne le freine pas et il redouble d'ardeur à me sucer. Je retrouve avec plaisir les sensations que me procure sa gorge profonde et la grande efficacité du balai de sa langue sur mon gland. Il me fait monter en pression puis cesse brutalement pour éviter que je jute. Il me fait le coup trois fois et là je ne peux plus me retenir et j'envoie la sauce. Dans un souci de propreté (c'est l'argument que Jimmy me sortira quelques minutes plus tard), il avale toute ma production, rattrapant d'un doigt ma semence qui lui coule au coin des lèvres. Emporté par mon plaisir, je n'ai pas cherché à sortir de sa bouche, je crois que j'ai même appuyé sur sa tête pour m'enfoncer encore plus ! heureusement que je suis clean ! Il n'empêche que je le sermonne, une fois qu'il m'ait rendu le gland nickel, sur le danger de faire cela. Sa réponse comme quoi je suis le seul avec lequel il se lâche un peu me rassure. Je ne veux pas que mes " protégés " prennent des risques avec leurs santés.

Arrivée à la maison :

Ammed nous attendait dans l'entrée pour nous débarrasser. Alors qu'il monte nos valises, je fais la remarque qu'il avait l'air d'avoir pas mal pris question muscle (très visible puisqu'en shorty cuir).

Samir me confirme qu'Ammed souhaite arriver à un physique semblable à celui de Ric. Marc confirme que s'il continu un peu ce sera bientôt fait. Je demande à Samir si cela lui convient, réponse : une gym-queen, ça le branche bien !

Je passe un coup de phone à Ed. Je n'arrive à m'en défaire qu'au bout de 3 bons 1/4 d'heure. Il m'a tout raconté, chaque rendez vous et sa suite entre les mains de Samir en vue du gang bang avec Jimmy. Il me dit que par contre j'avais du taf à rattraper avec Théo son frère qui n'arrêtais pas de le faire bander en se promenant à poil dans leur partie de maison sans pour cela qu'il lui soulage les couilles en le suçant ou en se laissant enculer. Et de le voir se branler alors qu'il le regarde, ça commence à l'énerver passablement !

Je lui dis que je passerais moi même l'emmener à son prochain rendez vous, cela le soulagera.

JARDINIER

18 notes · View notes