THE MALE CHAUVINIST - An Erotic Autobiography

Part Four VIII

VIII

The Podere d'Emilia is a renovated farmhouse turned into a spa, agri-glamour restaurant, and, occasionally, a party venue. Located on the hills above Scandiano, the 'Podere' is a summer hit due to its mega pool with a view (no children allowed), but it also holds its own in winter with its beautiful barn transformed into a trendy hall by the magic wand of architects.

At the party, everyone's there: Ugo, Paolino, Bruno, Baldo, Campa, and Milo, who just bought a mini-Nintendo with something like eight thousand video games, and paused Castlevania to come to the party. 'I've reached the last level,' he tells me. He's still with Valda, as far as I know. They've been together for a while now. Looks like Milo might settle down? He hasn't stopped being a nerd, but now he's a nerd who gets laid, a paradox, something you'd never see before.

Even Sugar Fornaciari is at the bash. For those who might not know, old Sugar is from around here and sometimes you bump into him at some local hangouts.

Ugo runs into him at the entrance and greets him in dialect: 'Hey, Zucchero, where ya heading? Any chicks around?' The singer's response is emblematic, despite his global success, he remains a true local, straightforward and unpretentious. 'For sure for me, not for you though.'

Bruno and Paolino rush to the bar and the DJ kicks off Voodoo Voodoo in honor of Adelmo Fornaciari. I catch Milo chatting suspiciously with Ugo. 'What are you up to with that chick?' the brute teases him. Milo opens up about his exploits with my ex, now his current girlfriend. 'A real slut, I swear,' he tells Ugo, somewhat quietly, not considering that I'm right there listening in. 'Just so you know, I hadn't showered yesterday, I mean I hadn't washed my dick since the day before, it smelled a bit cheesy. Valda just dove in and went to put it in her mouth. I told her 'wait a minute, let me wash up,' but she couldn't contain her lust anymore, so she just went for it and started sucking it with such enthusiasm, half would have been enough. 'Doesn't it disgust you?' I asked her. And she: 'No, no, quite the opposite, I like it more this way... it's tastier!' Just like that, I swear! (and Ugo, all worked up: 'What a slut!'). She polished it off nicely with that quick little tongue of hers. A slut like no other, I repeat...' While he says this, I'm seething, yes sir, biting my hand because at this hour 'the Valda' could be sucking me, the dick that smells of cheese, instead of Milo, if only he got nothing, and I feel nostalgic for when she used to perform those numbers with me, when it was my dick that Valda polished up neatly with her adorable little mouth, and I even feel a certain measure of envy towards Milo, even though he's my friend, even though on one hand I'm happy he's doing well and enjoying himself – but damn it, couldn't she enjoy it with some other chick and not with my ex-girl, ex-lover, ex-whatever she is! Sure, I was a bit more discreet, boy, I didn't expect him to blab to everyone about the dirty things he does with his chick. I know, I have a lot to say, I who write about these things, detailing them in my bawdy trashy books that some would say should be censored. I never put real names though, I always change them a bit, or a lot... you mention the sin but not the sinner, right? To cut it short, I go berserk, and once more I call myself an idiot for letting that little treasure, Valda, slip away. I wander around the agriturismo looking around for any chick, any pussy to stick it in. I bait some chicks [in fishing, baiting means throwing a certain amount of bait into the water to attract fish. Going for pussy is the same: never target just one fish, better to throw bait into the water so many will come, sooner or later one will bite well] noticing the infuriating level of snobbery of the chicks from the well-to-do Reggio... and also the chicks from the less well-to-do Reggio and the bad Reggio, if that's a thing. It's useless, here the girls give no satisfaction. If I walk through the capital, I feel like Adriano Celentano at the beginning of 'Segni particolari bellissimo', when women devour him with their eyes and one touches his ass and the pop star bursts out: "This is too much!' In Reggio, give it a week and Brad Pitt would feel as charming as The Elephant Man.