Beautiful Losers

“Oh beautiful losers, you never seem to win.
There’s something weird about your very erotic sin.
It wasn’t perfect. Why did it end that way?

…Oh beautiful losers, tear out their eyes.
Beautiful losers laying there warm inside.
I tried to touch you but you were gone.”
(Beautiful Losers, from the album “Advantage”, Clock DVA)

I was a little nervous. To begin with, I’d never actually seen anyone have sex — not even in a porn film. I’d done it myself — but that’s different.

Then there was Sebastian — exquisite Sebastian who always made me feel insignificant in the way that extremely beautiful women manage to make my existence tenuous. He was so very beautiful six foot something and pale as alabaster, shocks of blue-black hair in a state of immaculate rebellion. He had the young dead poet thing down pat. Languid would be a vast understatement.

Jean, on the other hand, was fine-boned and slight; every gesture, every movement was the carefully choreographed swish of an electric eel in a very small pond. These days he had taken to black cherry with a passion — his hair, his lips, his nails. He once sighed over a line of cosmetics on the ground floor of a well-known department store and said, “So many shades of black, so little time.”

How I came to be sitting on the floor in the corner of Jean’s ultra-minimalist bedroom doesn’t require much explanation he was my best friend. The boy force-fed me martinis and then plucked my eyebrows into the kind of peaked arches that a 1950’s film star would kill for. He used to perch on the side of the bath, joint in his manicured hand, and critique my leg-shaving methodology. I loved Jean. I loved him in ways that, if he knew, would have probably turned his stomach, I thought. There were frustratingly minor anatomical reasons why Jean couldn’t be my lesbian lover or why I couldn’t fuck him like a man — minor and yet sadly insurmountable.

Why, on this specific occasion, I was sitting on the floor in the corner of Jean’s bedroom had to do with Sebastian being a surprisingly magnanimous person. We’d gone out to dinner at the French Proveníal restaurant that was Jean’s favorite place to eat very little, and it was while we were indulging in a plate of Strawberries Fascist that the question came up — rather out of the blue, I thought — but it could have been that I was paying more attention to my second glass of port than anything else.

“Would you like to watch us fuck?”

The question was Sebastian’s. I choked unattractively on a strawberry.

“What?” I croaked, a little too loudly, still trying to dislodge the piece of fruit.

Sebastian leaned over his place setting, his chin propped on his slender interlaced fingers. “Do you want to watch us fuck?”

“That’s what I thought you asked.”


I looked around desperately for a waiter and caught one. “Can I have another glass of the Dow’s ’77, please?” Even the waiter noticed the desperation in my voice and gave me a quizzical look. “Um, now… please?”

I looked back at Sebastian who was manually feeding Jean another chocolate-coated strawberry. It was incongruously shaped with a cleft which looked a lot like the head of a cock. Jean was letting him push it between his lips slowly.

“Jesus! Stop doing that for a sec, you guys. I have to think!” Luckily my port arrived in time and I downed it faster than is strictly proper considering it was a ’77.

“What’s there to think about?” murmured Sebastian, who not satisfied to simply publicly penetrate my friend with a strawberry, had taken to teasingly sliding it in and out of his mouth.

“Well, Jean for one.”

“Jean suggested it,” Sebastian quipped. A crooked smile played at the edge of his lips.

I swiveled around in my chair to face my friend, my might-have-been lesbian lover, my companion in the depilatory arts. “Did you?” I asked accusingly.


“Either eat the fucking strawberry or spit it out! I want a proper answer.”

Sharp white incisors bit down, decapitating the brown-shirted berry. Crimson juice took a path along the length of Jean’s lips and tricked down the side of his mouth onto his chin. He made a very convincing little vampire.

“Don’t you want to, Shira? I thought you might like it. He has a very beautiful body, you know.” The last sentence was, of course, not directed at me but aimed lewdly at Sebastian.

Sebastian stood up and walked around the table to Jean’s chair. He pulled his lover’s jaw up with one hand, bent over him and licked up the spilt red juice with the flat of his tongue. “Thank you,” Sebastian murmured.

“My pleasure.” Jean gazed up with heavy lidded eyes.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake — let’s get the bill.” I looked around for a waiter again to find half the dining room staring at us. Admittedly, we were a pretty sight but I didn’t think that was why they were staring. Goths don’t generally patronize expensive French restaurants and, if they do, they usually don’t put on gay floorshows for the customers.

Did I want to? That had a complicated answer. On one hand, who in their right mind would pass up something so aesthetically pleasing? On the other hand, I was a little bit of a prude in those days and had some half-formed idea that sex was for doing and not for watching; voyeurism had never really called to me. Also, there was the little problem of what my relationship with Jean was going to be like after; might this fuck it up? Lastly-I’m ashamed to admit it now — it kind of freaked me out. I had a lot of gay friends but the fine details of how they fucked were something of a camera obscura to me.

We paid our bill and left a restaurant full of scandalized patrons, half of whom were probably glad that the table cloths hid their erections.

On the street outside, we waited to flag a taxi in silence. It was cold and the air smelled like rain. A group of jocks sauntered down the street, drunk and ugly from an evening of sitting in the bars.

“Oh shit, here comes trouble,” said Jean in a small, sing-song voice.

As the group of guys pulled level with us, they stared and sneered. “Fags!” yelled one.

“Fucking losers!” spat another.

My anger and protectiveness rose instantly. I glared belligerently at their stupid, hateful redneck faces. Suddenly a cab slid up to the curb in front of us. Jean walked around to the other door and got in; Sebastian opened the one in front of me. The port and the brutal ugliness of the rednecks finally got the better of me.

“We might be losers, but at least we’re beautiful, you fuckheads!” I yelled after them.

Sebastian grabbed me by the neck and shoved me into the back seat like a sack of potatoes.

Feeling uncomfortable and awkward the middle of the backseat of the taxi, I felt just the tiniest bit hemmed in. “It’s not like there isn’t a perfectly good front seat,” I fumed at no one in particular. Then the penny dropped; I looked to either side of me.

Jean put an arm around my neck and stoked my cheek with a silver-ringed finger. Sebastian draped a long leg over mine, leaned back and nuzzled my shoulder.

“She’s grouchy because she’s scared. That’s how she hides it.” My best friend was taking liberties with my confidences.

“That much is obvious. Tell her we aren’t going to traumatize her or anything.”

“Hey! I’m right here! And really, it’s bloody rude to evaluate my fight or flight reactions in front of me.” I turned to face Jean who was balancing his chin pathetically on my left shoulder. “Clich’s like ‘three’s a crowd’ usually have some basis in fact, you know. You’re only doing this because you feel sorry for me — it’s very patronizing, Jean.”

Jean gave me one of those comic begging puppy-dog looks. “That’s such shit and you know it. Anyway, I want you there — do it for me, Shira, as a friend.”

I felt my resistance weaken. How could I be such a manipulated sucker? I made a last and in my view very brave effort. “What’s going to happen afterwards — to our friendship? It’ll be weird.”

A cool hand cupped my cheek and pulled my head around. In the back of the car, in a darkness punctuated by passing streetlights, Sebastian’s eyes glinted like polished onyx.

“Shira darling, shut up. You think way too much.”

“It’s true. I do.”

* * *

The room was full of candles; they covered a good proportion of the floor and practically every elevated surface. Jean walked around lighting them as if he were officiating at a vigil. I sat on the floor in the corner and made myself as small as possible. Sebastian sat perched on the edge of the bed and watched me, which pretty well defeated my effort to blend into the décor. It got really silly when they both sat on the frame of Jean’s water bed, looking at me.

“I told you this was gonna be weird,” I muttered, stood up and walked into the kitchen. Jean kept his weed in the freezer along with his gourmet coffee. Singing something inane to myself, I rolled the fattest joint I could, lit it and took a deep hit. Then, just to be extra protected, I grabbed the bottle of vodka. Stalking into the living room, I sorted through Jean’s music till I found something I considered suitable for two Goth boys to fuck to and walked back into the bedroom.

Thankfully things had progressed a little. They were out of their clothes. The sight of their white skin against the black sheets (of course they were black) pulled a grin at the side of my mouth. They were lying on their sides, facing each other, legs entwined, kissing; it was rather sweet, really. I took my spot back in the corner on the floor.

“Don’t we get some of that too? And bring the bottle.”

Sebastian’s long, slender arm reached up into the air, his fingers curled a demand. Almost begrudgingly, I walked over to the bed and offered him the joint. He grabbed my wrist instead and smiled up at me through the mess of Jean’s lipstick.


“Yeah, sit,” Jean echoed.

I did. It’s hard to argue with two very pretty naked boys with black cherry lipstick everywhere. I kicked off my shoes and crawled to settle myself on a free spot. The bed responded by rippling and moving beneath us. As we passed around the dope, I got the feeling that perhaps this was just a little bit uncomfortable for them, too. Somehow, it made me feel better. I cracked the bottle of vodka and leaned back, propping myself up on my elbows.

They began to kiss again. It started lazy and slow but built in intensity rather quickly. I had a hard time looking away after a while; it was very hypnotic. It was then that I noticed the erections. Two of them (well, of course — I hadn’t really thought about details). It made it all a lot more concrete, and — oh god — very fucking sexy. I watched them touch each other’s cocks. I envied their lack of hesitation and the familiarity that comes only with having the same equipment yourself.

I blamed the joint for making me giggle out loud.

Jean turned his head to look at me. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” Streams of hot blood snuck up the sides of my neck and stung my cheeks; I couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or arousal. “It’s just weird…two erections.”

“Did you think one of us would be anatomically incorrect?” mumbled Sebastian. He wasn’t all that intelligible with his face nuzzled in the crook of Jean’s neck.

Jean grinned and pumped his hips, pushing his cock through Sebastian’s curled fingers.

“You’re blushing, Shira. You’re going all bashful!” teased Jean.

The connection between my brain and my mouth was being uncooperative and it took me a little while to blurt out, “N-no I’m not.” All the voyeurs I’d read about in novels watched scenes in stoic silence with unreadable expressions on their faces. They were so cool; I was so not.

Sebastian left off Jean’s neck and looked over. “She’s not bashful, she’s turned on.”

I was smart enough to know that if I denied it vociferously it would appear suspicious. I kicked his leg instead — which of course was so much more convincing.

Jean laughed. “Oh, you are! You are!”

“Just shut up,” I said, finally taking control of my mouth. “I’m supposed to be watching — not having a three way conversation.” I huffed and resettled myself modestly. The heat between my thighs was getting uncomfortable but at least there was a very pleasant buzz in my head.

They moved over each other like snakes, lithe and sinuous, touching everything with their hands, their lips, their tongues. The noise that Jean made when Sebastian slid his cock into his mouth was… just adorable. It was like a newborn kitten mewing and, just like something blind and insatiably hungry, he squirmed his way around until he found Sebastian’s hard-on and engulfed it with his lipstick-smeared mouth.

There’s something about the sound of sucking, interspersed with moaning, that has always turned me on immensely. It’s far more effective than any picture could be. Although the sight of Sebastian’s fingers digging into the back of Jean’s thighs did compete impressively. So did all the undulations.

Jesus. I unscrewed the cap on the vodka and took a good, long swig. It stopped me from whimpering. This was, without a single doubt, the most erotic thing I’d ever seen in my life. My nipples got so erect they stung. I was heartily thankful that most men are not multi-orgasmic. If they came this way, I could politely leave, rush home, and masturbate myself into oblivion.

The sucking pop dashed my hopes of a fast exit. Sebastian rolled over onto his stomach and reached for something on the nightstand. When he rolled back again he held a tube of lube and a strip of condoms in his hand. He sat up and grinned as he ripped one open and fished the condom out.

“You okay?”

I nodded and took another swig of vodka. “Yes.”

That’s when my jaw dropped a bit. He handed the condom to Jean, and then the tube. Don’t ask me why, but I always assumed Jean was the bottom.

“Shira, come here,” said Sebastian.

“Um… no. I don’t… I don’t think so.”

Jean sat up and knelt, unrolling the condom onto his cock. It was massive. “Don’t be ungenerous, Shira. Come over here.”

“Damnit,” I muttered, crawling over to them on my hands and knees. There was no way to do this gracefully on a water bed. I felt like a really awkward puppy traipsing through tall grass. “I don’t think this is a very good idea.”

“Can’t you take some of that off?” Sebastian looked down at my clothes with something like real disdain. “Yes, definitely, this has to come off,” he said, and attacked my shirt buttons with his fingers.

I looked over his shoulder at Jean who was kneeling behind him. “What are we doing here?”

He slid a hand over Sebastian’s shoulder, down his chest to his nipple and tweaked it. Sebastian inhaled sharply and his fingers fumbled with the buttons. “Well Shira…” Jean said, pushing his body against Sebastian’s back, “I do believe we’re going to fuck.”

Off came the shirt. It might have been the one time I didn’t regret having small tits; big breasts just wouldn’t have been right for the occasion. Still, if I’d had them, I would have at least had the cover of a bra and my nipples wouldn’t have looked quite so obviously erect. I wasn’t clear on why it bothered me that they knew I was aroused from watching them. Silly, really, but somehow I felt that it kept me from getting emotionally involved in a situation I had no right to get involved in. Foolish, since I was already there.

Off came the skirt too, then the thigh-highs, because I thought it looked ridiculously porny to leave them on, plus my skin felt like it was burning. That left me with just my panties on when Sebastian pulled me down beside him and flung a leg over my hip. I looked past him to Jean who was squeezing what seemed like an enormous amount of gel out of the tube. I shivered and grabbed Sebastian’s hand, holding it tight.

“Does it hurt?” I whispered and then immediately felt stupid for asking such a dumb question.

He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it. “No. It feels beautiful.”

He twitched as Jean spread the lube between his ass cheeks, and scissored his legs wider, the uppermost one settling higher on my hip. I felt a little trapped and had a vague sense of impending doom. Making no sense at all, I was having vivid flashbacks of losing my virginity and, being a late bloomer, the event had been embarrassingly recent. I glanced past Sebastian’s angular hip to Jean. He caught my gaze and held it as he began to massage Sebastian’s ass, pushing his finger inside him to open him up. A sharp squeeze on my hand pulled my attention back to Sebastian; he had the most beatific look on his face, eyes glazed over and a small secret smile tugging the corners of his parted lips. I covered our clasped hands with my free one and stared into those blind eyes.

My gaze drifted away from his face and down the length of his thin white frame. Either naturally or by artifice, he had no chest hair at all. The little silver barbells piercing his nipples winked and flared in the light of the candles. They were dark, almost burgundy and very erect; I felt my own harden in synchronicity. I wanted to touch them almost desperately, but I bit my lip and stopped myself, still terribly unsure of what role I was expected to play in this event. Down the length of his stomach to his navel, my eyes settled where a dark line of hair began and became the nest surrounding a very stiff, very large weeping cock.

The bed moved, swells rippling beneath the surface. Jean was moving, stroking his lover’s side and positioning himself to the side and above him, straddling one leg. I had a momentary thought that this position wouldn’t work all that well if you were a girl and stifled another giggle. The sharp hiss of breath kind of pulled me out of hetero world as the bed undulated beneath us.

“Oh god…” It was Sebastian, looking straight into my eyes. And somehow that sense of being overwhelmed jumped the gap between us and I almost gasped with him.

“Kiss him, Shira.”

I glanced up at Jean who was looking rather happy himself, easing his way into Sebastian’s ass. “What?” I asked, confused.

“Kiss him.”

I looked straight into Sebastian’s eyes, doubtful he was seeing anything at all. “Do you want me to?” I whispered conspiratorially to Sebastian.

He smiled and nodded, letting go of my hand and leaning forward. A mixture of dope and vodka does strange things to your brain; the last thing I thought before I kissed him was I really like that shade of black cherry lipstick.

His lips were butter soft and trembled as I kissed them. I trailed my tongue along the line of them and they opened instantly to let me in. The ghosts of chocolate and strawberry still lingered on his tongue as it slithered into my mouth, slashing and writhing against mine. I raised my hand to his face, tracing the outline of his lips as we kissed, and then curling back around his neck to pull him a little closer. The bed rocked beneath us and I could feel the cold little steel ball of his piercing brush against my nipple. It made me shudder and I mewed into his mouth.

Dislodging a hand, he reached up and grabbed mine, pulling it down between his legs and guiding it to his cock. I wrapped my fingers around it and gave it a squeeze. Pre-come flooded from the head and I stroked it down his length. He moaned and must have tightened, because I felt his cock twitch sharply and Jean gasped. A flood of my juices soaked through my panties in what I can only describe as the deepest sympathy.

I pulled my head back and whispered, “Is it okay?”

“Oh yes… definitely.”

“Do we need another condom?” It was Jean, who was staring down at my hand disappearing between Sebastian’s legs.


“No.” I said quite a bit louder.

“Oh… Jesus,” groaned Jean. “Is that a yes or a no?” The question just hung in the air for a while.

Sebastian grinned. “Don’t be such a prude, Shira,” he teased. His hand slithered down my back and tugged at my panties. It was such a weird position to be stuck in; I wasn’t quite sure about the logistics of getting them off. Snaking his hand between us, he tugged at them from the front — rather forcefully and the seam at the hip ripped apart.


“That’s what you get for not lifting your hips politely.” This was a little unfair because his leg was on top of my hips. Sebastian’s hand burrowed between my legs, fingers sliding back and forth in the wet mess of my cunt. He craned his head around to look at Jean. “That’s a very definite yes.”

Considering the position we were all in, it was utterly pathetic, but I blushed so hard I thought my cheeks would peel. “I… I’m like that all the time,” I protested.

Jean offered the condom to Sebastian who freed his very sticky hand to take it. He started a tear in the package with his teeth. “You’re such a liar, Shira,” he muttered, “But you smell very nice for a girl.” His tongue flicked out, licking my wetness off the back of his fingers.

“Gee thanks. And anyway, how would you know?” I demanded.

Jean lowered himself over Sebastian’s side and smirked at me. “Oh, he’d know. Believe me.”

Sebastian pulled my hand off his cock — I had forgotten it there — and slid the condom on, grimacing slightly at the chill. Then he put his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “Come here, little Shira,” he said archly. “I promise to respect you in the morning.”

I giggled at the Rocky Horror take-off, right up until he pushed his cock into me. True, I had seen the size it, but I had never associated it with being inside me. Which is why, despite my flooding, I yelled when he entered me.

“Jesus Christ, Sebastian. You’re fucking huge!” I blurted, having recovered a little.

Jean, who was still peeking over Sebastian’s side smiled sweetly. “That’s why I don’t let him fuck me.” And with that, he thrust into Sebastian with considerable force. It set up a chain reaction. Sebastian moaned, I moaned. I think everyone moaned, actually.

We all kind of slid sideways until I was vaguely on the bottom, although everyone was very nice about distributing their weight. The waterbed did what, I guess, waterbeds do, which added a strange but very pleasant rebound effect to all the thrusting.

I was the first to start to come. How uncool is that? It could have been the size of Sebastian or the fact that he had started to shudder himself. Certainly it set up something of a cascade effect because when I cried out and arched my back, it was Jean who said, “Shira, are you coming?”

“God, yes…”

“Mmm… me too. Oh fuck.”

The violence of the ensuing thrusts prolonged what had begun as something quite intense. I was almost positive that if I didn’t stop coming soon I would go irredeemably insane. Sebastian finally stopped shuddering and came, gasping unintelligible things in my ear. His cock twitched wickedly inside me, and I heard Jean moan. Muscles are quite wonderful things.

We lay in a panting puddle for a while and then everyone politely pulled out of everyone else’s orifices.

“That went well, I thought,” said Jean cheerfully, standing up and disposing of his condom.

Sebastian rolled off me and lay flat on his back, pulling off his own. “Very well. Extremely well, actually.”

I opened my mouth but nothing much came out. They both looked at me with cute but crazy expressions on their messed up faces. I moaned, tucked my hands between my legs and rolled onto my side.

“That’s your fault, Sebastian,” teased Jean.

“Don’t be insane. Girls have babies.”

“My point exactly. There’s no way I’m going to let you put your cock up my ass.”

I looked from one to the other; god, they were weird. “You planned this from the start, didn’t you?” I asked miserably. The spasms in my cunt were slowly ebbing away leaving a dull ache behind.

Jean had that ‘who me?’ look splattered all over his pretty face. “Anybody for a little Grand Marnier?” He turned and left for the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

“We did discuss the possibility,” admitted Sebastian quietly.

© 2005 Remittance Girl. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

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