Antoine was such a southern gentleman with a quiet soft spoken demeanor and impeccable manners. He only had one problem – pussy. He liked a lot of it all the time. He really didn’t have much of a problem obtaining it either, except for the occasional proper princess of a lady who might need a little more wooing or wining and dining. He was always polite afterwards, but was rarely offered a second chance to anyone he’d already had.
He was educated, well-dressed, well-heeled, and had a corresponding place in Kentucky society – such as it was. Georgia could snub its nose at Kentucky gentry, but it was a beautiful state with huge rolling estates. The legendary blue grass, premium horse flesh, white gated southern palaces surrounded by poor dirt farmers trying to eek out a living on a couple of acres of tobacco or cotton.
He had enough clothes to go without doing laundry for several weeks. Everything about his apartment felt militarily correct. Perhaps that was the result of having been raised by the academy from the age of nine. Every pair of underwear, shirt, socks, pants, jackets, shoes, etc. had an exact location in his closet or dresser.
Antoine had the fetish of recording all of his phone calls. The gossip was that he was a Secret Service Agent or FBI. He kept a loaded pistol in his top desk drawer where his special papers were also located in a green file folder. He wrote meticulous notes on everyone he ever met and filed them away on alphabetized cards for future reference. “You never know what you might need,” he explained.
While this made some people nervous, no one thought about it seriously or changed their behavior around him. He could have been some undercover secret agent delving into the lives of unsuspecting college students. They were all living out the fantasies of the 60’s and 70’s.
All the guys joked with him, but never offered him a toke. All the girls tried him out in bed. Everything was reciprocal. Each of them was an entry in his ledger. In return he was nothing more than a notch on a belt to them.
This was especially true after he disrobed and took off the layers of clothes that filled out his frame. He was left without pretense to reveal a skinny little ass, insignificant muscle development, but a magnificent perfectly formed thick eight inch penis surrounded by a glistening patch of gold pubic hair that he probably combed and groomed in secret. He used his member adequately, but the prospect of a second date was never pursued by either Antoine or whatever sweet young thing he had conquered.
He thought this was because he was uncircumcised. At the age of twenty-four he decided to have it done. Orgasms had been painful for him. The foreskin had been too tight to allow the full girth to develop at the height of his erection. He had heard that most girls preferred cut rather than uncut. He hoped this would lead to more fellatio which he also enjoyed.
He watched the procedure in the overhead mirror as the surgeon performed the simple task using only a local anesthetic. Antoine was quite satisfied with the result. It resulted in the cosmetic benefit he had hoped for, and also made sex more enjoyable for him.
Kristie shacked up with him for a few days while hitch hiking through the south on one of her many sojourns. “You can’t stay here,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
She suggested that she’d like to meet his parents. She wanted to help out with the painting project they were having done at their estate.
“No way!” he said, “You simply don’t understand.”
What she didn’t understand was that a proper land holding son of a Southern Lord could not be seen cavorting with a Hippie chick from California. What Antoine didn’t understand was that she had really come from the same ilk. She was a Pioneer Princess with her own family history of politicians and upstanding citizenry. What it got down to was cattle and corn versus horses and tobacco.
“What’s the use of arguing with a Kentucky Blue Blood?” she asked herself as she rolled up her sleeping bag and headed out for the never ending state of Texas. She couldn’t resist a parting remark, “By the way, your dick looks nice now that you’ve had it cut.”
She left him standing there grinning at her last remark. Stupid boy. She stuck her thumb out and caught a ride with some members of Black Oak Arkansas. Turned out, they were going through Texas…. Cool.
(First published 3/27/12)
