SLOUCHING TOWARDS BETHLEHEM
By Dolphin Dan
*** WARNING *** This story contains descriptions of sexual acts between consenting adults of the same gender and of opposite genders. If it is illegal or morally objectionable for you to view this material, please do not continue.
*** This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is completely unintentional. ***
*** AUTHOR'S NOTE ***
Moesia is a mythical nation in Eastern Europe. It's in the Balkans, on the coast of the Black Sea, somewhere between Romania and Bulgaria. After Stalin's armies conquered it, it was known as the Democratic People's Republic of Moesia. In 1989, as a wave of revolutions swept Eastern Europe, Moesia's people revolted against their Communist government. Since then, as in most former Soviet satellite states, things have been somewhat confused, politically, economically and socially.
Travel Journal of Dan -------------.
May 29, 1990.
We arrived in-country today. We were on the transatlantic flight to Frankfurt, then a smaller plane from Frankfurt to Prague, and finally to Brzdejedzyca, the capital of Moesia. As soon as we got off the plane I wondered if this whole thing was a mistake. What the hell am I doing here? I'm on an exchange program and I'm earning college credits, yes, but why here? It was the easiest exchange program to get on, I guess. Nobody wants to come to this dogshit country, and I guess I understand why.
We took a rattly old bus from the airport into the central city. We passed long blocks of apartment buildings that all looked the same--lots of concrete and tiny little square windows bleeding black stuff down the face of the buildings that looked like the remnants of coal dust or acid rain or something. In the central square of Brzdejedzyca--which we Americans call Berzy--there's a big bronze statue of Lenin, his arm raised toward the sky. I suppose they haven't got around to tearing it down yet. There are more horse carts on the street than cars, and the cars that do exist are these little East German-made sedans--"jiks," they call them, which is a shortened form of the Moesian slang for "bug"--that are made out of plastic and spit more gunk out of their tail pipes than any other cars I've seen. The people we pass all look worn-out and unhappy. Weird.
The bus discharged us at the "hotel." I put that in quotes because it's not much of a hotel. We got in our rooms and rats scurried for cover. There are a lot of iron-framed bedsteads, piss-stained mattresses and the "walls" between the rooms are nothing but faded sheets hung on clothes lines. I was assigned to room with this completely geeky guy named Barry Lechleiter. He's dull as yesterday's news. I wish I had some better company.
Well, I take that back. There IS some good company on the tour, but it's out of my league. There's a guy and a chick, and they're both attractive. The chick--I think her name is Mara, because I heard the guy call her that--is really hot. She's got beautiful bronze soccer-player thighs and her blonde hair is done up in a nice braid that falls down her back. She has a boyfriend, though. He's about 5'9", dark hair falling down to his collar, steel-rimmed glasses and very dark eyes, almost black. I first noticed them on the airplane. The guy was trying to sleep and the girl had her head leaning against him. When the guy yawned and stretched the hem of his T-shirt crawled up his belly, exposing a nice tight navel ringed with dark hair. I wonder what kind of sex they have, the two of them.
Argh. I've got sex on the brain. Shouldn't think about it, because the only sex I'm going to have for the next three months is what my right hand can give me. With Lechleiter around and nothing but a sheet between me and the next bedroom anyway, I doubt I'll get much chance even for that action. I should have stayed home to work during the summer instead of going on this idiotic exchange program. This place smells like piss, armpits and stale cabbage. What am I going to learn in Moesia that I couldn't get staying home? I'll never understand it.
May 30, 1990.
I met the cute chick and her boyfriend. Her name is Mara, just as I thought. He introduced himself as Robert Miller, but said he likes to be called Mill. Whatever. "Nice to meet you, Dan," the chick said, shaking my hand. Evidently they go to some chic college in upstate New York. Being a public university boy I got the feeling they were trying to make me feel inferior. Mill talked about people he knew who were "down at the Hamptons" this summer. How nice it must be, not only to have friends who summer in the Hamptons, but to live north of them so you can speak of going "down" there instead of "up."
We met at breakfast. They make some attempt to serve breakfast at this "hotel." It was some meager rations of stale smelly bread, some very old cheese, and milk that literally had little green specks floating in it. It was in the dining hall which obviously hasn't been cleaned in a long time.
There's other people who live at this hotel, and some who have lived here for years. There's this old man who speaks broken English; I think he learned it from Voice of America radio. While we were eating breakfast he pointed to a ghostly square of clean space on the grimy wall. "There used to be portrait of Gaenescu," he told me. Gaenescu was the dictator they overthrew in the revolution last fall. He's rumored to have fled to Cambodia, and is hiding out in the jungle with a bunch of Communist bandits. The old man told me about being drafted into the Moesian Army in like 1944 and fighting the Germans. Gaenescu was their hero, he told me, the commander who led them to freedom. Somehow forced labor camps and little babies dying of AIDS in squalid hospitals doesn't sound like my idea of freedom, but these Moesians have been through a lot I guess.
We went sightseeing today, the whole tour of American college students. We saw the National Assembly--they're still fighting over the results of last March's elections, so they have no idea who is legitimately a part of their Parliament and who isn't--and Gaenescu's former palace, which was totally obscene. They preserved one of his jeweled bathtubs as an exhibit. Unbelievable. Moesia has the poorest GNP of any country in Europe, and this fucker was literally swimming in loot. No wonder they overthrew him.
I finally got a chance to jack off. It was in the tiny little shit-smelling hole they call the bathroom at the end of the hall in our hotel. The tiles were crumbling and the toilet had big smears of rust streaming down the bowl from the rim. I pulled out my dick and cranked it as hard and fast as I could; I knew there were others waiting for the bathroom and I didn't have much time. I thought about fucking that chick, Mara, doggy-style. She's got a nice ass, real meaty and substantial, but shapely and kind of graceful. I blew my load pretty quickly and imagined it shooting all over Mara's butt instead of my hand and the filthy toilet. Watching your own cum slide down the slope of a rusty toilet bowl to a pool of water the color of coffee with cream kind of underscores how pathetic and awful this country is. I miss New Mexico. At least there you're reasonably assured of having power flow through the switch when you go to turn the lights on. Here, it's even money you'll end up in the dark.
May 31, 1990.
Writing this by flashlight in bed at night. No power. Electricity goes out here sporadically. Very maddening.
Mara and her boyfriend Mill sure aren't around much. We had our first classes today and met some totally creepy students from Moesia National University, and the two of them were nowhere to be found, though they were at breakfast. The Moesian students we're supposed to be buddying up with are all skinny and have dark circles under their eyes. They look like zombies from a George Romero film. Our faculty advisor--he says he's a "liaison" to the Moesian students--is weird as hell, this little mousy guy with wire-rimmed glasses. We're supposed to be helping the students learn English. They must have had some exposure to American culture, because they know curse words ("fook," "sheet," etc.) and one real tall scrawny kid noticed my long hair and asked if I liked Metallica. We had "lunch" at their university dining hall. It was like something out of Oliver Twist. I don't know what the gooey gray shit was I was eating, but midway through I pulled somebody's hair out of it. Nasty.
Lechleiter is jacking off. He thinks I can't hear him, but his bed is like five feet away and the joints of the bed frame creak at the slightest motion, so the rhythm makes it totally obvious he's masturbating. I have half a mind to crawl into his bed and help him out, but he's probably completely straight, and in any event isn't very attractive. Again I wonder if coming here was a mistake.
June 1.
Odd thing this morning. I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom this morning and Mill came out of the shower, with a towel wrapped around himself. "Hey, Dan, can I borrow your razor?" he asked me. "I left mine back in my room and I don't feel like traipsing all across the hotel in the buff to go get it." He was pretty damned attractive I must say. His black hair falls just to his shoulders. He has a tattoo of something, some kind of Chinese character, on the back of his left shoulder. He's got a pretty even swath of dark hair leading from the top of his chest down to his waist. It's not real out of control--I mean, I'm not into excessively hairy guys, and this was not distasteful to me--and it seemed to suit him. But as soon as I gave him the razor he smeared shaving cream all over his chest and started to shave himself.
"You're shaving your chest?" I said, surprised.
"Oh, yeah," he chuckled, kind of absently. "My girlfriend likes it better when I'm smooth." He started at the top of his chest and worked down, and the puddle of brownish water he'd made in the sink was soon full of fluffy white foam and little wisps of black hair. I lingered for a while over my own sink trying to make up excuses not to finish so I could keep watching him. I had boxers on under my own towel so I doubt he could tell I was getting pretty stiff. I have to admit watching him shave was hot. I don't have a single hair from neck to navel, and when Mill was done he looked as smooth as me. He washed off the razor and handed it back to me. "Thanks," he said nonchalantly.
At least he and Mara were with the study group today. In fact I got to talk to Mara. She's working with this one guy whose name is Pauli. He's the super-scrawny one who asked me if I like Metallica. This kid looks like he just got out of Dachau. I mean, a stiff wind would blow him right over. Anyway somehow the three of us got talking about American music and Pauli was writing down names of bands he liked, most of which Mara didn't know but I did--Metallica, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, etc. Later Mara and I walked together through the main street that goes by the university. "I love it here," she told me. "I like feeling that we're making a difference." She said after college she's going to go into the Peace Corps. We talked a little bit about our colleges, and how we miss home-cooked meals and TV and clean sheets. But she really does seem to like it. "I remember watching news footage of the revolution on TV last fall," she said. "Gaenescu was giving a speech, and all these people, right here in this square, pulled out their car keys and started shaking them so the noise would drown him out. That's a strange sound, ten thousand people jangling their keys--for freedom." I wasn't quite sure what she was driving at so I didn't say much. For one thing I was too busy admiring her. She's SO incredibly hot. The thought of my dick sliding between those perfect tits of hers made me hard almost instantly. She's got a boyfriend, I keep telling myself, a boyfriend pussy-whipped enough to shave his chest for her. But I still keep thinking about her. In fact I stare at her all the time. I hope nobody notices.
Neither she nor Mill came back for the afternoon session of classes, so I was stuck alone with Pauli, who's like an over-eager little puppy. He wants to know everything about America and keeps saying "Boosh number one!" and holding up his finger. I guess he means President Bush. Most of what he knows about America comes from gangster movies. Apparently The Godfather was like the #1 box office hit here for decades, and Pauli says he wants to BE a gangster.
As we were all back in the hotel getting ready for dinner a taxi pulled up to the front of the hotel--I was watching out the window. It was one of those plastic cars, a jik. The door opened and Mara and Mill piled out. Where had they gone in a taxi? Basically anybody who can afford a taxi in Berzy is by definition upper-crust, so arriving in one is pretty ostentatious, especially for the locals. Where do they spend most of their time? It's a mystery.
June 4.
Haven't written for a couple of days. Lots happened. For starters, I moved out of that disgusting fleabag hotel. I'll start at the beginning.
I guess I must not have been too subtle about the fact that I was drooling over Mara every time I saw her, because even the faculty advisor, Naizhetzku, noticed. A couple of days ago we were doing something in the square with the Moesian students and he called me over. "I have a friend you might want to see," he told me. "Your other friends--the girl and the boy--they saw him too. He can get you out of hotel." So he told me to go to this cafe a couple of streets away at 2PM. I went there and this horrible guy comes up. He's got slicked back hair and a big paunchy belly hanging over his belt and, like all Moesians, dark circles under his eyes. "My name Radulsesci," he said in broken English as we sipped coffee that tasted like piss. "I run Hotel Metropole." To make a long story short, he said that he could get me a deal on a very cheap room at a nice hotel--private room, private bathroom--for the whole summer, only $50 per month, if I paid him in American dollars. Considering that my parents are paying more than that (through the university) for my current lodgings, naturally I took him up on it. He told me to have my stuff packed and be in front of my hotel at 4PM, and he'd come take me over to the Metropole--if I had the cash for the first two months in advance.
I had been warned (secretly) to bring a couple of hundred dollars in U.S. bills with me, so I was ready. Radulesci showed up in another stinking jik, which are all the same color--yellow--and all coated with a thick layer of grime. But at least Radulesci had a sense of humor, there were furry dice hanging from the rearview mirror. He took me over to the Metropole while explaining that it's really one of the nicest hotels in Berzy, but you won't find it in any tour book. Evidently it used to be an apartment building for members of the Moesian Communist Party, and when the government was overthrown all the party members left and it fell into disrepair. "Now I run," Radulesci said proudly. "But, is illegal. No license. Still, make money renting rooms mostly to foreigners. Nicest, cleanest hotel in Berzy." Considering I've been living with rats, rusty iron bed frames and walls made of stained bed sheets for the past week, this was music to my ears.
The Metropole looked like it had once been nice but it was now run-down. The lobby was full of derelicts, old guys in wifebeaters and women who can't walk very well fanning themselves because it's hotter than usual this week and there's not an air conditioner in this country. There's still a bust of Lenin in the lobby, but somebody obviously took a shot at him during (or since) the revolution, because there's a big chunk missing out of the right side of his face. Radulesci took me up four flights of stairs--the elevator quit working decades ago--and down a hallway that was nicely furnished with rugs and lamps, but smelled like piss and cabbage. At the top of the stairs he stopped. "For extra money I get you extra-good room," he said. "You know hot American girl?" He made a motion in the air like he was caressing some chick's tits, and he leered at me. I shrugged. "She come here with boy?" He made fake glasses out of his thumbs and forefingers and put them over his eyes. Suddenly I realized he was talking about Mara and Mill.
"Yeah, I know them."
"They stay here. Come." He beckoned. He opened the door of Room 4. Inside was quite nice. It sort of looked like a good hotel room in America would have looked in about 1950, but it had running water, a nice bed, and four walls. Radulesci opened the closet doors and beckoned inside. "Come, look. Special extra." Why he wanted me to come into the closet I have no idea. Curious, I followed. He pointed. There was a hole in the wall in the closet that communicated with the adjacent room. "From other side look like knot hole in paneling," he said mischievously. "Look."
I bent down and peered through the hole. I could see into the next room--directly at the bed, which was rumpled and unmade.
"Room of hot American girl," he whispered, and leered again.
I understood. He was offering me a room with a view. I don't know if Naizhetku had told him that I liked "hot American girl" or whether it was a coincidence that Radulesci thought she was hot enough to interest me, but he asked me, "What worth to you?" I shrugged and asked what he had in mind. "Ten extra month," he said. I agreed. I've never really been a voyeur, but the opportunity to spy on Mara and Mill was simply too good to pass up. So I slipped him an extra twenty-dollar bill, paying me up through the end of July, and I was officially in residence at the Hotel Metropole.
One good thing about the Metropole is that there's a cafe right next door that's actually halfway decent. I quickly realized I'd be eating there pretty much every meal--it's so cheap that it's not even worth trying to go someplace else, the food is good, and the beer is literally cheaper than water. I had just walked in when Mara and Mill showed up. "Hey, Dan!" said Mill, slapping my hand jive-style. "What are you doing here?" I told him Naizhetku had tipped me off and I had moved to the Metropole. "It's a lot better than that fleatrap," said Mara. "And it's nice to have a private room, isn't it?" The three of us are together, and Mill and I both had several beers. I can see already it's going to be tempting not to get completely plowed every night--it's so cheap. We were feeling good by the time we stumbled back home to the hotel.
Less than an hour after I got home I already got my $20 worth for the view. Mara and Mill were doing some pretty heavy PDA at the cafe and the walk back to the hotel, so I had a feeing they'd be randy when they got to their room, and sure enough they were. Figuring I'd get a show good enough to cause me to jack off, I stripped down to my briefs before I shut off all the lights in the room and crept into the closet. I quietly brought a chair in there, sat down and knelt over to peer into the hole. I could see the two of them in the bedroom, standing next to the bed, kissing. They had their shoes and socks off and Mill had taken off his glasses. They kissed for a long time, whispering sweet nothings and that sort of thing. Mara kept lifting up his T-shirt and stroking his belly. I think she got off on him being shaved. Finally she stripped his shirt all the way off, started at his lips, and began working her way down. She was barely at his nipples before I had to start massaging myself through my underwear. Then she got to her knees and unbuttoned his shorts. My precum was already making a wet spot in my briefs. This was hotter than I dared to hope it might be, and they had barely done anything yet.
Mill's shorts dropped to the floor. He was wearing green boxers with a paisley pattern on them, and the rounded knob sticking a couple of inches out underneath them showed me he was pretty well-hung as well as very excited. Mara gently grasped the elastic of his boxers to pull them down and free the beast. His dick is about seven inches, cut, and totally straight. Very nice looking. He moaned slightly as she took him in her mouth. She didn't get him all the way down, but she took him deeper than I thought she would. By now I'd already pulled my penis out of the fly of my underwear and was flailing away at it. I imagined her tongue rubbing all over my shaft, licking my head, flicking against my wet tip. As she sucked him she started to unbutton her shorts and pull them off. Mill was obviously enjoying himself. He clasped his hands together on top of his head and smiled contentedly. Some guys get all the breaks. Money, good looks, big dick, hot girlfriend--it wasn't fair.
She sucked him for a while, and then he pulled away from her and they went over to the bed. He finished undressing her. I'd already gotten quite a show--during their blow job I had to stop cranking several times because I was getting close to coming--and I didn't dare hope there was more in store. But there was. After they made out for a while Mara lay down on the bed on her stomach, her head facing to the foot of the bed. Mill got on his knees at the head of the bed, bent down and spit on her pussy. He began to rub it in gently with his hand. I doubt he needed to spit. She was moaning so good that I bet she was pretty good and wet without any help from him. I saw him thrust his fingers into her warm opening; his thumb was sticking up and he was smiling. "Good?" he said. She only nodded.
He continued fucking her with his hand for a couple of minutes and all the while he was slowly lowering her to the level of his throbbing member. Finally, almost surreptitiously, he slid his finger out of her pussy and replaced it with his hard dick. They both gasped a little at the sensation. He had her in a wheelbarrow position, she facing away from him on her stomach, his hands on her ankles. Then he began to pump on her like there was no tomorrow. It was the hottest thing I had ever seen in my life. I honestly couldn't decide which one of them to watch, because I wanted to fuck both of them. Every time Mill thrust into Mara her succulent tits flapped against her chest, and at the same time Mill's arms and hips rippled with muscles that I longed to touch. I was masturbating furiously. I imagined how wonderful it would be to have been in Mill's place, feeling his dick sliding into her warm, velvety pussy and her muscles contracting around him as she approached orgasm. At the same time I envied Mara, because she was feeling this beautiful boy's hot, hard penis slamming inside of her with every stroke, filling her up, proving to her how deeply he loved her.
I couldn't take it anymore. My dick melted down like a nuclear reactor. Cum shot into my face, on my chest, on my legs, my underwear, my hand, the chair, the wall of the closet and the floor. I don't think I've ever cum so hard in my life. And Mara and Mill were just getting started. I couldn't take my eyes off them. He fucked her as hard and as fast as he could. She was grasping the sheets and the bedspread, her fists clenching and unclenching. Finally she gasped and quivered and I knew she was coming, and then Mill came too. I wished he had pulled out of her so I could see the hot white jets of sperm shooting all over her, but he nutted inside of her, gasping with the intensity of it. Finally he pulled out of her pussy and they lay together on the bed, still panting, exhausted and happy.
After a few minutes they finally moved and talked a bit though I couldn't hear what they were saying. Mill's dick was slack now but it was still huge and imposing, lying against his belly. The show was over. I felt completely exhausted. I withdrew from the closet and collapsed onto my bed, my dick still hanging out the fly of my cum-wet underwear. Suddenly I was aware of the heat and the humidity, the rattle of horse carts and jik brakes from the street outside the open window, and I could smell the ever-present reek of old socialism, stale urine and boiled cabbage. But strangely I was happy. I felt sated in a way that I didn't think was possible before. I haven't had a lot of sex in my life, but watching Mill and Mara was a hell of a lot more exciting and satisfying than the sex I've had in real life. That's pretty sobering when something like that happens to you.
That was last night. I'm writing this in the morning, before breakfast, and it's given me a wicked hard-on just rehashing it all in my mind. I'm signing off, and I'm going to go jerk off. I have a private bathroom now at the Metropole, so I can at least get my nut once in a while. Thank God for small favors.
June 7.
I can't believe I'm going to write this. I can't believe what I saw. Man, the $20 I gave Radulesci for the "room with the view" was the most well-spent money I've ever coughed up in my entire life. I could go back to the States today and think that my week and a half in Moesia was totally worth it, even though I got the wickedest diarrhea of my life the other day from some stringy roast beef they served at the cafe next to the Metropole.
Yesterday, June 6. We broke early from class because it was some kind of election day for the Moesians--they're trying over again the Parliament vote they originally fucked up in March, and the interim government closed offices and schools at mid-day so people would be encouraged to go vote. I heard that the MCP (Moesian Communist Party) set off a bomb at a polling place across town, but that's irrelevant to what happened here at the Metropole this afternoon. Shit, I can't believe I actually saw it!
I thought things couldn't get any hotter after I saw Mill boning Mara the other night. I was wrong. Today was really hot, both figuratively and literally. There's a high pressure system stalled right over the Balkans, and everybody who's anywhere near the Black Sea is sweating, from Yalta to Istanbul. There are no air conditioners in Moesia and even fans are hard to come by, so after class I came back to my room at the Metropole, stripped to my underwear, wet a towel in cold water in the sink and draped it over me while I lay on the bed hoping for some relief. That didn't work, so I went back to the bathroom, took off my underwear, soaked them in cold water and put them back on. A little chill on my balls did finally begin to help. Then I heard the door to Room 4 open--that's Mill and Mara's room--and voices inside. Just out of curiosity before going back to the bed to lay down I crept into the closet and peered through the hole. I was COMPLETELY unprepared for what I saw.
Mill had come into the room, but he wasn't with Mara. He was with Pauli, the skinny Moesian kid from our class group. At first I didn't think anything of it and I was about to turn away from the peep hole. But then I saw Mill hugging him.
It looked pretty awkward. Pauli is about six-foot-four, but I doubt he weighs 120 pounds soaking wet. His hair looks like it was cut with a weed eater and he smells vaguely of herring guts, though everybody in this country smells like some nasty thing or another. Why Mill would hug this dude--and in a very familiar way--was beyond me. But it was unusual enough that I kept watching.
They parted, and Mill said something to him; I couldn't hear whether it was in English or Moesian. (Mill evidently speaks some Moesian, and also some Russian, which most Moesians understand--not surprising considering they had to understand orders given to them in that language for almost 50 years). Then they stared kissing. I couldn't believe it. Mill was kissing this sickly, scrawny kid! He almost had to stand on his toes to do it--Mill is about five-nine or so, and Pauli had to bend down. But they were all wrapped up in each other. When I saw Mill stick his hand under the waistband of Pauli's jeans, I almost had a heart attack. I don't think I've ever seen anything so shocking.
Mill is bisexual. I stare at the words on the page and I just can't believe it. He has epic sex every night with this completely gorgeous chick who adores him--and yet when she's not around he's macking on Pauli, who looks like something out of an old Boris Karloff film.
So Pauli unbuttoned Mill's shorts and helped him take them off, and he was standing there, wearing nothing but his T-shirt, his hard dick poking up from under its hem and his balls hanging down. Pauli stripped down to his underwear in like ten seconds flat. I can't say I've thought that much about the underwear preferences of Eastern European college students, but after seeing what Pauli had, I think the Hanes company would do well to open a branch office here--these people need some serious help. He had these little tiny micro-briefs on that were pale green with some kind of cartoony pattern on them. They looked like Underoos that had been through the wash a few too many thousand times. I don't know if Pauli is gay or bi, but it was painfully obvious he was a virgin with either sex. He stood there like a deer in headlights, not doing anything, almost shaking. Mill smiled reassuringly as he pulled down the shorts and took Pauli in his hands. For such a tall guy he's awfully short, penis-wise. I outrank him by at least an inch, and I'm nowhere near Mill's impressive length. And he is SO skinny. His arms are so thin it looks like the slightest pressure would snap them clean through. He's knock-kneed and his feet are way too big for his body. At the same time I wondered why Mill would be attracted to such a gargoyle, I found it incredibly hot that he was. I reached into my cool damp briefs and started to massage myself. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Mill dropped to his knees and took Pauli all the way, and I do mean ALL the way. He could easily have taken Pauli's balls in his mouth too. The way he did it, casually, almost professionally, told me immediately that Mill is either naturally gifted in ways of sex, or he's been around the block quite a lot. Pauli tipped his head back and stroked Mill's head and shoulders while Mill blew him. I knew he came in Mill's mouth because toward the end he was literally shaking, and then his pasty pale butt cheeks clenched together, he stood on his toes and his body jerked violently seven or eight times while pulling Mill's long dark hair. Then he backed away from him and lay down on the bed, his dick slackening. Mill himself was hard as a brick. He took off his shirt so he was now totally naked. He crawled up onto the bed too and they started kissing again, and Pauli's spindly hands closed around his dick. I wouldn't say Mill has the complexion of a surfer, but his skin tone was positively Nubian compared to Pauli's. If the kid was a chameleon camouflaging himself against a plaster wall he couldn't have been whiter. It struck me as kind of noble that a guy as good-looking as Mill was doing Pauli, who was probably unattractive even by Moesian standards. I doubt he was doing it out of pity--Mill seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself--but it still seemed cool, compassionate. I didn't guess Pauli got many dates.
By this time I was full-on jacking off. You couldn't have pulled me away from that peep hole for all the money in the world. I wondered if Mara knew her boyfriend cheated with boys on the side. I knew it wasn't my place to tell her, but I hoped Mill wasn't sneaking around behind her back. Then again, how could he NOT be? What would he say? "Oh, honey, I'm going to fuck Pauli this afternoon--hope you don't mind!"
They lay together for a long time, whispering to each other. I saw Pauli's hands go to Mill's dick. At one point he bent his head down toward Mill's crotch, but then withdrew. I think Mill was trying to convince Pauli to go down on him. Finally he did. They lay together in a 69 position, but Pauli of course had already gotten off and evidently didn't have the stamina to make it again so quickly, so Mill contented himself with flicking his tongue in and out of Pauli's navel, which, given Pauli's height, was about all he could reach. The Moesian kid began by kissing the head of Mill's blood-gorged penis. Then gently he worked up to taking the head into his mouth, and finally giving him a full-on blow job. I didn't know how long it would take--after watching his sessions with Mara I know that Mill can last a long time without coming--but I couldn't hold back on myself much longer. I pulled down my damp underwear so the elastic band was square across my balls, because I like a little gentle pressure on my nuts when I'm masturbating. I licked my hand and started to give myself an exquisite, warm, wet crank. I hoped Mill couldn't hear me in the closet because I never would have lived down being discovered in such a moment. I kept watching. The peephole was about a thousand times better than the hottest porn I'd ever watched on cable back in the States. I couldn't believe my luck!
Pauli evidently didn't want Mill to cum in his mouth, because he took the American's penis away from his lips and began to stroke it furiously toward the end while Mill's body twitched and thrashed in involuntary ecstasy. Mill erupted right into Pauli's face. Jets of his cum shot onto Pauli's cheeks, his nose, his lips, his neck and the top of his chest. Pauli wiped the stuff out of his eyes and sat up. At least he was smiling, but I knew he had to be scared. First times can be that way. He got up off the bed and went in to the bathroom, still naked. Mill stretched out on the bed, spread-eagled, facing the ceiling. I could almost sense the satisfaction humming through him. My own dick finally gave up, and I planted several hard splatters of fresh sperm on the wall of the closet, where the joined the multitude of other dried crusty splashes I'd been depositing there all week. The pleasure spreading through my groin was shattering but in a peaceful way. After that I still stared through the peep hole, watching Mill's motionless body, and I smiled. Life is sweet sometimes.
Pauli stayed for about twenty minutes, then put his clothes back on and Mill bade him farewell. Mill was still butt naked. After Pauli left he went over to his backpack, his now-slack penis dangling brazenly from his crotch. He took out a silver pipe, a lighter and a little baggie. My eyes widened. We'd been sniffed by drug dogs at the Berzy airport as soon as we arrived--how on earth did Mill manage to get that stuff in the country? He packed himself a big bowl, lay down on the bed and treated himself to several hits. He looked like he was on top of the world.
Finally I withdrew from the closet. I was stunned. Mill is bisexual--just like me. I haven't been in Moesia long, but it's already shaping up to be one of the most interesting summers of my life. Later this evening I went down to dinner with Mara and Mill, and of course he never said a word to her about his afternoon's adventures. Again we drank the beer that's cheaper than water, and I'm writing this in bed, my head still reeling. I've seen a lot of interesting things today. God only knows what tomorrow will bring.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Stories By This Author:
Last Days in the Dorm /nifty/gay/college/last-days-in-the-dorm (A student stumbles into an encounter with an attractive Native American college student the night before moving out of his dorm.)
Lust In Iraq /nifty/gay/military/lust-in-iraq/ (A war-weary sergeant becomes infatuated with a young PFC recently transferred to his unit.)
Rip the Jacker /nifty/bisexual/masturbation/rip-the-jacker/ (An outwardly well-adjusted high school student becomes a serial masturbator, causing a tremendous stir in the community.)
Shifter /nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/shifter/ (A college student's sexual fantasies have the unintended effect of transporting him backwards in time.)
Wet Lucidity /nifty/gay/masturbation/wet-lucidity (An exploration of the link between wet dreams and lucid dreams.)