Lex, I have should have handed you my mantle and crown days ago! Like the rest of us here in NYC, I am captivated by your posts, as I get ready for a trip to the dentist in a grey, muggy New York with the bang of construction already beginning outside my window...

Oh Lex... you are missing the real NEWS in NYC - 60 Minutes' Mike Wallace was arrested after arguing about a double parking ticket.... ahhh tis great to be free... Enjoy Europe!
Wish I was there (hey have some cake in fauchon for me in Paris! and some arab boys ..... naturellement!!)

mmmm Paris... Arab boys... oh those friendly young Turks around Barbes-Rochechouart... ah, memories!

Glad yer havin' fun honey but you should really try North Florida for a vacation next time. Ain't nuthin' like it for fun. I'm stayin' at my cousin's place.

What a gorgeous spread, Bonnie! Certainly rivaling the place I am staying at here in lil ole Nice. But alas, after the most blissful week of my life it is already my last night here. Tomorrow it is off for a brief spin in gay Paris before heading home. But Im not going to think about it now. I will think of it tomorrow, as Scarlett OHara would say.

I spent my final full day here on the beach, natch. But I did one of the seaside clubs where you rent a lounge chair and umbrella for the day and get handosome garcons to wait on you and deliver cocktails and they serve you a gourmet meal on china right there in front of the water. (after all, I AM Luxury Lex darling! the prince treatment sil vous plait) It was gorge, gorge and I loved every second of it.

Tonight I went to one of the two danceclubs in Nice. It was cute actually, though I decided to cut to the chase and head for the j/o club. On that note, gotta dash! More later ....

Handsome garcons serving a gourmet meal on the beach, is that like, all 31 centimeters of a gourmet meal? Uncut? I wonder what kind of meals they serve on the train to Paris? Maybe try a little dijon mustard on that one. If Time-Out doesn't give you a big cash advance to write a guide to the 'meals' of Europe, they are missing out.

And don't get jealous of that Confederate Condo in Daddy's post, I've met the owner, a certain 350 lbs. swine boar named Governor Jeb.

Looking forward to some snapshots of you in the Marais.

Just remember lex...
We are all living through you.
Make it good!

Totally living though you....love, love, love your running commentary.So well written with just the right balance of travel writer/whore.
Sure you will have a wonderful time in Paris and in all the Parisian boys!!

PARTING IS SUCH SWEET SORROW

Lets see ... where were we when I last checked in? Oh yes, dashing off for the sex club (its called The Block, btw) after leaving Le Club, the disco. Well it was my last night in Nice so I was determined to wring it like an soiled dishrag for every last drop I could get. After yours truly Ole Hollow Leg left le discotheque and landed at the sex club, my parting shots were spent in 4 parts:

Part 1: Bending over this sliver of a french man with round, gravity-defying buttocks rivaling those of Jimmyscouse. While gripping his narrow hips I slid into a moist passageway that seemed almost custom-tailored for my mandingo-johnson, all the while the guy is moaning and carrying on with just the right amount of pain and bravado. There appeared to be enough seed left in my condom to populate a small country with lots of little Lexes.

Part 2: Trolling the lighthouse and docks. But nothing happened. This guy wanted me to go to his place but I said no. There were few men around, and some stupid straight couple was having a lovers quarrel right at the steps leading down to the rocks. Still though, the night air and sea breeze was divine. I could feel my final hours in paradise slipping away .....

Part 3: Heading back to The Block! But of course darling. You know I wasnt calling it quits that quick. When you pay admission the first time they give you a ticket so you can re-enter (no pun intended) any time until they close at 7 a.m., so I had to show my face again. The place is composed of three floors, the top one is not air-conditioned and it gets really sweltering up there. Unfortunately though that is where 90% of the action occurs. So naturally that is where I nailed this boyish little thing in fatigues with big blue eyes and surprisingly large uncut piece. (I must say in general Ive been very pleased with the tools in the shed unsheathed, every one packs down here!) After bringing him to the brink of climax several times with my oral skills, I mounted him on the bench while Im sweating bucket loads and pounded one away for the home team. Very tasty.

Part 4: Luring a piece of prime french-arab trade into a booth. This one was a real prime specimen, worthy of being the caged pet of many Motherboarders I know with appetites for the dark dick. By this time I couldnt get it up anymore so I was quite happy to wear holes in the knees of my jeans while devouring his pole with total abandon. We Represent The Lollypop Guild, honey. As I got close to him he had a slight odor and just before he came he pushed my face into his very hairy balls. The salt of the Nile flows .....

Epilogue: Shuffling home at dawn, the sky already lighting. Only a couple of hours of sleep before I have to rise again and pack. If only I had time for one more morning swim. Goodbye palm trees! Goodbye rocky beaches! Au revoir .... but Ill see you again.

Taking the train through Europe is a great way to see the countryside.

Years ago I took a Greyhound bus ride from NYC to Denver, Colorado where I grew up. It was slightly horrific having to spend two days in a bus, but seeing the backyard of America was kind of cool. I remember thinking at the time how ugly everything was from NYC to a point somewhere in Illinois, i.e. lots of factories, highways, strip malls etc. The latter half of the trip from mid-Illinois to Denver was gorge, especially Kansas and Colorado.

The train ride from Nice to Paris however was gorgeous every mile of the way. Such astonishing wide open vistas of rolling green hills and stone farmsteads. Unlike the U.S., France has done such a marvelous job of preserving the natural habitat and beauty of their country. I was genuinely impressed. I didnt even bother to read my magazine. I was so captivated by the landscape that the journey was over before I knew it.

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But (full disclosure) there was something else I was mesmorized by on that trip. Or rather, someone else.

In a seat facing me a row away sat a boy with a beauty so devastating it left me twitching with angst and desire the entire time. I left my highway patrolman sunglasses on so he would not know I was staring at him so much. This angel was traveling with his talkative french mother and two younger brothers, both children. He looked no older than 15 or so, barely old enough to shave. But he had this incredible golden skin and arresting clear brown eyes. Perfect teeth. Beautiful lips and a slender neck. When he got up to get something for his mother I could see he was tall and swan-like graceful and lean. Poor Lex who conquered the sex club just hours before was now totally humbled before this too-young god. I must take a moment to mention how many vaguely disturbing Death in Venice moments I had like this in Nice. I saw literally dozens of very pretty teenage boys with exquisite faces that were off the chart in the beauty department. An unusually high percentage of them. Most unsettling! As the train pulled into Paris and all the passengers were disembarking, I gave him a rueful "bon soir" and prowled away to a waiting taxi. I wonder how large of a fortune would I need to buy my way into twink heaven .....

My Paris hotel is right by the Louvre. Nice, though they stuck me in a room on the first floor at the back. Kind of tomb-like. Thank goodness for the fully-stocked mini-bar.

PARIS IS DEAD!

Outside its gray and overcast. Most of the shops along the wide tree-lined boulevards are closed for vacation. There is a shadow over my thoughts, because as far as France is concerned my heart now belongs to the south. So it seemed an appropriate time to hang out with the honored dead at Cimetere Du Pere Lachaise, where Jim Morrison, Maria Callas, Oscar Wilde and numerous other art stars are buried. A peaceful and beautiful space. Small winding cobblestone corridors through hills covered in grandiose stone slabs and monuments. The lush trees seem to hush everything. Even after decades, Jim Morrisons grave is still gated off and surrounded by forlorn college students putting down fresh flowers. Oscar Wildes was gated off too but drew a more diverse crowd.

Hopefully Ill have time to squeeze in a visit to Versailles.

Lexy,
Gratify your love of things horse-like & get to Versailles early to see the performance at 'Academie du Spectacle Equestre' across from the Chateau... it is
called 'Manege de la Grand Ecurie'. Sat. & Sun from 11 h - 14h. Tel. 01-39-02-07-14. The horses perform to music under the control of a group of (no doubt beautiful, elegant, exquisite) students - only 20 are chosen each year. This special finishing school 'majors' in equestrienne, and also provides training in fencing, music and languages - an 18th-century syllabus. The stables look like an annex of Versailles itself with chandeliers and mirrors. I haven't gone yet myself but plan to on my next trip in Sept.-Oct.

Pere Lachaise: I'm both sad and relieved they have gated off Oscar's tomb. The worship was growing increasingly intense. Last year the entire mausoleum was COVERED in hundreds of lipstick kisses. As you know, the thing is massive and I am sure it took quite a while to clean it off. Of course the sphinx's penis disappeared long, long ago.

Any gossip on the removal of the Morrison corpse to New Orleans? It costs the French government millions each year to keep two gendarmes on constant duty by his grave. It is truly gorgeous to see groups of French schoolchildren visiting this 30-year old grave and being told by their professeur, "Le grand poete Jeem Morry-son..." Would such a moment occur in this dumbfounded country. In New Orleans, it might just attract such honours.

Since you are by the Seine, try to look out at dawn to see how then it appears to become completely still... some strange confluence of the river and sea flows.

Merde! I've been struggling with these damn french keyboards for so long and now just as I'm getting used to them it's almost time for me to leave.

OK so Paris is not totally dead. Getting back into the Marais, the Boulevard de Sebastopol is packed with crowds and the sun finally came out a little. Its hard to believe its been over four years since I was last here in gay Paris.

Thanks for the Versailles tip, Stan. I will try and swing by early tomorrow if I have time.
Horses, equestrians, riding .... whew! Dont get me started.

On Rue Saint-Denis there are hookers (biological) who stand at very posts in broad daylight. At like 1 p.m. I think that is fierce. One block had a line-up of brunette, blonde, redhead, african and asian one right after the other. Talk about niche marketing.

There are not so many vespas and motorcycles here like in Roma. Paris is more of a car city, like New York.

When I visited Rainbaud (MJO) we trolled around in the Marais until the wee hours. Lots of hot trade there... I am sure you won't miss that.

I once strolled St. Denis wearing a little grey linen suit, thinking this would distinguish me from the ho's walking there. No such luck. (I eventually had to run for it... providing me with fantasy for years!) I like the fact that the women stand still, and the men walk by. (That makes the guys the streetwalkers! hehehe)

I saw an amazing thing that day: three generations - a grandmother, mother and daughter all dressed alike, standing together & selling it.
The resemblance was remarkable, esp. as each stood about 6' tall, was broad as well as fat, and shared a shockingly homely visage.

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Ta-da! Le Univers Gym, my favorite sauna in all of Paris -- possibly in all of Europe -- is located just four blocks from my hotel (both near the Louvre). After some quick shopping and dinner last night I headed over there. My expectations were certainly met the moment I walked in: the abundance of very high-quality trade was pleasing indeed. Pretty crowded, many beauties but no real muscle queens like you would find at some place like the West Side club. Wonderful eye candy. Also the boys are lucid and not all Crystal-ed out. And evidently last night was "foam" night, or it had been earlier. As I made my way to the showers I had to wade through heaps of foam that were almost knee-high. This was actually more fun than it sounds.

I was not feeling particularly lucky for some reason but did bury my face in some scrumptuous round booty for a good half an hour before entering that pink Loire valley. Post-orgasm I luxuriated in the hot tub, then later received a merely-adequate blowjob from a simpering young thing but did not ejaculate. Another pretty green-eyed fey philly I was cruising did not respond.

So at 1:30 a.m., energy-depleted and more or less sexually spent for the evening, I departed for Le Depot, a disco. Also close by. Le Depot has a very dumpy 70s feel but that of course is part of its charm. There are dancefloors upstairs and downstairs, but they also have these caverns and halls lined with private booths. So you pick someone up and do them right then and there. A great concept in some ways; you can polish off the one-nighter caliber trade right after meeting them at the bar or on the dancefloor, leaving your home unmolested (though one can always bring home a "keeper" if so inclined).

Ive noticed in all my European travels to establishments with booths that guys dont hog them up like in NYC. When not in use the booths are empty for those who need it. So when you find someone you arent forced to search in vain for a place to fuck because all the booths are monopolized. I think that is so courteous.

Anyhoo so I hooked up with a lovely lovely 21-y.o. french twink with black curly hair and the cutest face. I managed to get it up one more time, but we were about 10 minutes into it before it became apparent that we were both "non-passive". A pity. But I really liked him anyway and we chatted for some time afterward and now "il est mon ami".

Dragging home at dawn ......