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RARE & SECONDHAND GAY RARE & SECONDHAND
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Non-Fiction of Gay Interest
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Content: Episodes in and thoughts from the author's life Background / Biography: English Wikipedia provides the following brief biography: "Aldo Busi (born 25 February 1948) is an Italian writer and translator mostly active in the last twenty years. He was born in Montichiari in Lombardy. He is the author of Seminar on Youth and Vita standard di un venditore provvisorio di collant (published in English under the title The Standard Life of a Temporary Pantyhose Salesman). His other works include La Delfina Bizantina and Sodomie in Corpo 11 (Sodomies in Elevenpoint)." A more extensive biography is on Italian Wikipedia Reviews: Arbery Books also sells secondhand and rare non-gay fiction and non-fiction. Click here for our full list. |
"He cannot be more than fifteen. He has put his foot on the rest; hand and elbow imprint on the dark the flash of the movement on the handle-bar that turns on the engine - he is about to leave - the motor starts up again. 'Come on - let's get it out and warm ourselves up a bit,' he says all in one breath, ready to escape. 'Here it is,' I say, and insert it in a tear in the netting. The boy gets off his moped, unbuttons his flies, begins to speak in Venetian dialect, breaking up the phrases, panting out short obscenities as if reciting them for the first time and from memory. I give a little laugh - my excitement stops halfway - I don't like little boys and then these live barbs of wire round my prick, a crown of thorns. I whisper to him what he believes to be adult dirty talk, we suck each other off - I am a little puzzled by the drop of eau-de- cologne, undoubtedly taken from his mother and all of a piece with the tenderly ridiculous conventions one has at his age about personal cleanliness. I hear him standing there, tense, with his whole body against the wire netting, breathing in the light exhaust-gas of the moped with its engine still running, and now he wants to kiss me through the mesh of the netting. The taste of the frost on the rust between our tongues, he floods my mouth with spurts of saliva, the boy gives a long, rigid sob, much repressed energy is discharged in that kiss between prisoners. I let it happen like a marionette bent on playing things out to the end, on leaving him either a pleasant memory or no memory at all, willing but not involved." pp 2 - 3 Secondhand booksellers |
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