The Erotic Études Opus VI
Étude V - Goette
I was already quite drunk. Flechsig and I had fought, and I intended not to return to our rooms to encounter him again. The hour was late, and there was, as yet, nowhere to go. Toepken lived with his family, and the two other classmates still drinking with me that night had wives at home, one already with child.
It was too late to call upon Reuter, and far too late for Glock, who had endured my late night visits more than once when I was in some sort of panic or had a stomachache during the night. What would Glock say if I woke him up, disturbing him before his morning rounds, because of another argument with Flechsig? That would not do.
But... there was one idea that had occurred to me repeatedly in the last few nights, I had stored somewhere before all of those glasses of wine, in the form of a shy invitation by the newest member of our circle, Goette. We had met in the Coffé Baum, and talked at length about Chopin, the latest sensation, who was at that time giving a concert at the Gewandthaus. Goette said, "Don't you think that he's very dashing, the way he plays the piano?" and I found myself regarding him curiously, as he smiled at me.
"Well, yes he is," I admitted. "But one is more taken by what he is playing than what he looks like while playing it, wouldn't you say?"
"Oh, I don't know..." he murmured. "I would be interested in seeing what you look like when you're playing," he added, and touched my hand lightly.
"Would you?" I replied, grasping the proffered hand in my own, with a quick glance around to see if the exchange had been noticed, and my pulse quickened. But I did not go with him that night, and excused myself with embarrassment, promising him that we would meet another time, and we shared a brief embrace and a shy kiss at the door. He slipped a note into my hand with his address, and said, "Perhaps another night you would have some time..."
Yes, there was Goette. He lived alone; his rooms were close, near the bridge, just outside of the Altstadt. I wished my remaining companions a brief good night, and left, my destination now clear.
He came at the second knock, donning his robe even as he opened the door. "Ah, Schumann!" he greeted me, and took my hand. "Come in."
"I am sorry, I hope it isn't too late...I brought wine," I said, and raised the parcel in my hand. He ushered me in, truly pleased to see me.
"I thought perhaps you weren't going to show up," he said, clearing a place for the bottles on the little table in his parlor. "Sit, sit."
"You were asleep," I objected.
"No, no, not asleep. Studying. I always study in bed...." he blushed, smiling. "I know, it's a bad habit."
"I study in bed too... but I don't usually undress for it," I remarked, noting his dressing gown. Goette was a lanky youth, perhaps a year younger than I; but brilliant in his studies, and very devoted. He hurried to get glasses, and returned. "It's chilled," I added, reaching for the corkscrew in his hand. We sat, and I poured.
"To music! Prosit!" I touched my glass to his.
"To music!" he replied. "Oh I am glad that you came. I was somewhat afraid I disinterested you..."
"Oh - no!" I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, pushing the collar away to caress the warm flesh beneath, and leaned forward, placing a kiss on his mouth. "Things have just been, a bit difficult of late. In fact," I went on, embarrassment making my words come slow, "I came in part to ask if I might stay. At least - for tonight."
"I would like that. A lot."
I looked down, into my wine glass, avoiding his eyes. "Flechsig and I aren't getting along."
"Oh. Well you are welcome here, any time," and he caught my hand, caressing it tenderly.
"Thank you," I said, and refilled our glasses.
I drained mine quickly, set down our glasses, and pulled him toward me for a more languid, deeper kiss, pulling him down atop me on the sofa. A sharp ache of desire coursed through me then, and through his gown I could feel the pressure of his arousal, and pulled up the cloth to caress the bare flesh of his thighs and buttocks, and he began to move against me, his mouth open against mine, his hissing breath quickening. He rose, first pulling off first his robe, then the dressing gown, exposing him, kneeling over me, now completely naked and erect.
I put my hands on his hips and pulled him toward me, and took his hard organ into my mouth. He moaned, and thrust eagerly into my throat, and I grasped him firmly to keep from choking on him. His excitement was palpable, and his hands gripped my shoulders as he shuddered and thrust against my restraining grip. I teased him with my tongue, which excited him further, and I sensed his climax was fast approaching. His nails dug into my neck.
At the penultimate moment, I squeezed hard and then released my hand, and with one powerful thrust he came, his hot fluid came surging into my mouth and throat, and the hands on my shoulders relaxed. "Ah, god," he sighed, and lay back on the sofa between my knees, in that muzzy relaxation that follows orgasm.
I refilled our glasses, and we drank in the ensuing quiet.
Overheated, I drew off my jacket, unbuttoned my shirt, and stood. Goette reached out, and tugged at my belt, unfastening my trousers. "Perhaps now it's your turn?" and he opened the buttons on my trousers and worked them down my legs. I was still half-aroused by our previous play, and his grasping hand woke me to erection. As he stroked me he said, in a casual way, "Perhaps you would like to fuck me with this?" I nodded as he continued to work my penis with his hand, and reached with the other for a small bottle of lotion, and smeared some of it along the shaft.
"Right here?" I asked.
"Yes, right here," and he stood up. I turned him then, bending him over the back of the sofa, and entered him with a single swift thrust, holding him down with one arm. He shuddered as I penetrated him. With the pent-up desire of weeks, I thrust into him repeatedly, and could feel the responsive spasm within his bowels. I could not hold back; with an increasing pace, I battered his insides, and gradually, the explosive climax that had been so long lurking, rose up within me. My climax came over me in a series of savage thrusts. I withdrew, releasing him from my hold, and stood back, panting.
We were both slimy with lotion and semen, and Goette grabbed a tea towel and dabbed me with it, and then himself. "You brought me off again..." he sighed.
"I hope I didn't hurt you..." I replied.
"Hurt me?" he laughed. "I wish I would get hurt like that more often. Ah, god..." he repeated, pulling me down by the arm to sit next to him, and sought my mouth again with his own. "You've done that before."
"Only a few times," I demurred, embarrassed. We finished that bottle of wine, and the next, our hands entwined. After that, drunk, barely able to stand, we found his bed, and passed out in one another's arms.
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The Erotic Etudes Index
[ I ]
[ II ]
[ III ]
[ IV ]
[ V ]
[ VI ]
[ VII ]
[ VIII ]
[ IX ]
[ X ]
[ XI ]
[ XII ]
[ XIII ]
[ XIV ]
[ XV ]
[ XVI ]
[ XVII ]
[ XVIII ]