A FAIRY TALE? by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006 written the 7th of March, 1993 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Vicent
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"A FAIRY TALE?" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
CHAPTER 1 - Fantasies... Fantasies...
³Stop it, Martino. Shut off that TV and start on your studies!²
³But dad, it¹s almost over... just a few minutes...²
³No, shut it off now! And hit the books!²
Reluctantly, Martino stood, shut off the TV and sulked off to his room. He sat at his desk, opened the pathology textbook and mechanically started to read. But his head was elsewhere. He fantasized about the end of the detective movie he was watching when his father ordered him to switch off the TV.
Martino often took refuge in his fantasy, partly to compensate for his father¹s authoritarianism, partly for sheer amusement. He had done this since he was a little boy, from the time when his mother died, who until then had smoothed his father¹s harshness with her smile and her sweetness.
Even though he was of age, if he wanted to be supported while in school, he had to give his father blind obedience. And he wanted very much to become a doctor. This thought shook him, and he began to really study pathology. There were just two weeks to the test. Time literally flew by, and the ringing of his table alarm clock told him he had to prepare to go to the gym. Reluctantly he closed his book, took his prepacked sports bag and left for the gym. When Martino was thirteen his father decided he should work out regularly at the gym. Mens sana in corpore sano, he had pronounced, and then he added: ³You have to unload your youthful energies and keep your body in good shape at the same time.²
His father ruled him with a rod of iron; he had always done so. Even at home he was a soldier - the worst kind, a regular soldier who succeed in being promoted. Martino couldn¹t remember having seen him without his uniform. He didn¹t even wear civilian clothes in his wedding picture. On vacations, he took them to resorts for high-ranking officers, in full uniform, of course. Healthy mountain air and endless walking. Martino asked himself what would become of his father if one day, by chance, all uniforms miraculously disappeared from the face of the earth. He would probably die on the spot! Either that or he would be too ashamed to ever go out of his house again. Without his uniform, his father had to feel naked. Funny he doesn¹t sleep or shower in his uniform, the boy told himself, and he smiled, amused at his own idea.
At the gym he did all the scheduled exercises, conscientiously, because he knew that his father had ordered the trainer to supervise him and to give a monthly report on his son¹s progress.
When he ended his training, he finally went to take a shower. Under the spray of the shower, he fancied he was in a pelting rain in a tropical forest. Through the steam he could see silhouettes of other men who were washing themselves and he fancied they were the natives of the nearby village with whom he, a famous explorer, had become friends because he healed the chief¹s eldest son. Notwithstanding that they were primitive headhunters, famous for their ferocity, he had nothing to fear. They were grateful to him, and treated him with a mixture of awe and respect as a witch doctor has to be treated...
He rinsed and went out. Drying himself, he went to his locker to dress again. Near his spot there was a full-length mirror and when he saw he was alone, he lingered to look at himself while he was still naked. Not bad at all, he had to admit. Even though he was bored with all the exercises, at least he gained in physical shape. Just as his father wanted, anyway.
He dressed and went home, crossing diagonally through the wide park that occupied a former drill ground. Near his home he passed a pair of young lovers who were smothering each other with kisses. Martino smiled to himself, but wondered why it never happened to him. Why was there no girl for him to smother with kisses? Perhaps he had just never found the right one. In fact he had never felt attracted to a girl, not to her body or to her personality. Yet for several years he had felt sexual urges, which he appeased by wanking off. But when it came up, when it became hard, it was never because he saw or thought about a sexy girl. He didn¹t understand why he got a hard-on from time to time. He only knew that when it happened, he had to wank off to give himself vent. Sometimes his friends, or more accurately his schoolmates, because he didn¹t have any real friends, would talk about being aroused by some girl. That never happened to him.
Once one of his mates showed him one of those porno magazines with the glossy cover that often peeps out from among other magazines in the newspaper stands. Not even those pictures aroused him, unlike his friend who said they gave him a hard-on. He smiled remembering that at those words he had thought that he would like to feel his fly to verify the information. Of course he didn¹t do it, for fear his friend would think he was a faggot!
Right, the faggots. Who knew how two males could amuse themselves together? That is, he knew perfectly well how they did, because sometimes his friends talked about someone who liked to give head or to be fucked in the ass. But he couldn¹t understand what pleasure there could be in these activities. Everybody knows that a man enjoys putting it between a girl¹s legs, right?
Martino went upstairs, greeted his father and guessed the man was checking his watch to see if he had lost time on the route. Then went to bed, completely undressing and putting on his pajamas before he slipped under the sheets. While he was falling asleep, he had a hard-on, so he began to jerk off. While he was doing it, as usual, his mind was blank, with no fantasies, concentrating completely on the sensations he was providing himself. He came on the small towel he always had ready, soaking it. He rolled it and hid it under his mattress. In the morning he would make it disappear into the big basket of dirty clothes. When the housekeeper did the laundry, it would have dried up and would not betray the use he had made of it. Sated, he fell asleep.
Martino¹s life flew by in this way, between two straight rails laid out by his father, a regular rhythm of lessons, study, and gym. Full stop, next line.
But there was one thing his father could not control: his unbridled fantasy. Whenever he could, he took refuge in it. He created fascinating thriller plots, science fiction stories, unlikely but beautiful adventure tales, suffused with all the colors his father banned from his life. In fact there were two things his father could not control; the second was when he beat off, his mind empty, enjoying the pleasurable sensations that this activity gave him, analyzing them, savoring them until the sweet yet strong final emotion.
A few nights later, coming back home from the gym, as he came towards the park, he noticed a boy leaning against a street lamp, a cigarette in his lips, looking into the void.
³Who knows what he¹s doing, that one, all alone at this time! Is he waiting for someone?² he asked himself as he came nearer. He saw a car pulling up. It stopped near the boy and the lights switched. Neither the driver nor the boy moved. Then the car flashed its lights. The boy drew nearer and bent towards the car window as if to talk with the driver. After a short while, a young man got out of the car, locked it and walked into the park, followed by the boy.
Martino was surprised. He thought: ³That¹s strange... if they knew each other, why didn¹t they start to speak at once? The man in the car made a signal before they...²
And his fantasy went into a gallop!
³They are two spies... The younger one waited for the signal to be sure it was the right car, then he spoke the password in order to be recognized. But the younger one must not be an important agent, he must still be green... Now they are going into the park... somebody is hiding there, waiting for them... Someone the man from the car has to meet... If he only had just to pick up or drop off a roll of microfilm, the younger one could do it... Could they be from the KGB or the CIA, or perhaps even the Mossad?²
Martino felt an unrestrainable desire to spy on those two spies. He approached the park from another side, furtively, and entered among the trees. His heart beat strongly but he was determined to live the adventure. He knew the layout of the park well, so he detoured towards the direction the two spies had taken. He walked in the shelter of the bushes; meanwhile his eyes got used to the faint light that filtered in from the bordering boulevards. He looked around carefully, trying to single out the two suspicious characters. He couldn¹t see them immediately. Being careful not to make any noise, he continued to move so as not to be seen. He moved with prudence and caution, but with confidence. Finally he saw two silhouettes. He drew nearer with doubled caution, gliding from bush to bush, tree to tree, without losing sight of his quarry. They might be carrying weapons, so he had to be very careful.
His heart was beating stronger and stronger, more out of the emotion of the adventure than out of fear. The two guys had entered a thicket and did not come out. That had to be the place of the secret meeting. Martino reached the thicket and lay in wait behind a tree. He looked. The two men, now that he could see them better, were still alone. They were very close, as if they were whispering something. He entered the thicket, going closer, hoping to hear what they were saying. Finally he saw them clearly.
He looked at them in amazement. They were not talking, they were kissing! Not just light kisses either, but a true French kiss like a man and a woman, only they both seemed to be males. He saw that they were opening each other¹s trousers and he got unequivocal proof that they were both males: they started to jack each other. The boy pulled out his T-shirt, baring his chest. The young man opened his jacket and shirt, but without pulling them out, just exposing his chest. They started to suck each other¹s nipples, taking turns, mutually caressing their sides and bellies...
Martino looked on, astonished and fascinated, as the two aroused each other. He watched as they lowered their trousers to their hips. The boy had a cock of remarkable size, erect and throbbing, with a couple of heavy balls easily visible underneath. This was the first time Martino had seen a fully erect cock, other than his own. He couldn¹t see how the young man was endowed. Then the latter crouched in front of the boy, whose turgid cock disappeared inside the young man¹s mouth. Martino was aware, thanks to the boy¹s expression, that was enjoying it very much. And it was as if the boy¹s excitement was contagious. Martino also became aroused and felt his own cock growing, hardening, pushing inside his trousers.
In his fantasy he took the place of the boy, and that aroused him even more. The boy¹s cock appeared and disappeared between the lips of the young man, who moved his head back and forth, slipping his hand between his thighs and moving it frantically, wanking himself off. Martino, almost without being aware of it, loosened the string of his tracksuit trousers and lowered them onto his hips, freeing his cock from his jock, and started to beat off without losing sight of what the other two were doing.
After a time the boy moaned, ³Oh, shit... I¹m near cumming...²
³No, wait!² the other whispered with an urgent tone.
The young man stood up, turned his back and bent over, offering his ass to the boy who spat on his fingers, passed them between the other¹s buttocks, then seized his cock with his hand, pointed it and pushed with vigorous strokes, rapidly penetrating the other, who continued to rapidly beat off. Finally he was all the way inside; the two bodies were tightly united, and the boy began to pump strongly with a decided to and fro motion. Martino continued to wank off, watching them from his hideout.
He heard the young man moaning in excitement: ³Yes, do it, go on. Push it all inside. Harder, harder... God what a bull you are! Yes, that¹s the way, fuck me. Good... Oh, that¹s great!²
Martino could see that the young man was really enjoying it, and his excitement was infectious. Once again he imagined himself in the young man¹s place... yes, it must be great! Even the expression on the boy¹s face showed an intense pleasure, so it was difficult to say which of the two was enjoying their vigorous union more. The two bodies swayed to the rhythm of the boy¹s strokes. He was taking the other with increasing force...
Suddenly Martino¹s orgasm came, very strong, so intense that it was hard to keep from moaning aloud his own pleasure.
After the night when Martino spied those two men having sex in the park, his secret life underwent a change. Now when he wanked off, he recalled what he had seen, and was aroused much more than usual, because he imagined himself first in the place of the boy, then in the place of the young man.
Another change happened in his life. Now he looked at the men on the street, or his friends at the university, or even more his companions at the gym, with different eyes. Now he observed them carefully, looked them up and down, trying to guess how they might be endowed. At times, in the gym showers, he would glance at his companions¹ cocks, but he never saw them erect as he hoped. Then he imagined he was crouching in front of them, making them hard, taking their cocks in his mouth, like that young man did there in the park.... or that one of his friends was crouching in front of him, and then his cock at once became hard, demanding, and he had to hurry to the toilet, hiding his aroused state with a towel, there to wank off, dreaming that in front of him knelt one of his most handsome friends, naked, full of desire for him...
At last Martino understood why he never had a girlfriend, why girls didn¹t arouse or attract him. He liked men. This discovery didn¹t trouble him at all. He was a faggot. Good. But this new awareness, though he accepted it quietly, made him burn with desire to find a handsome man with whom he could make love.
He started to watch to see if, on his way back from the gym, he might happen to meet someone in the park. But he never again saw either the boy or the guy in the car, nor anyone else.
In the gym and at the University there were some guys who attracted him more than others, but he knew how big the prejudice was against faggots. Everyone talked only about girls, so he didn¹t dare to expose himself. He asked himself what faggots did to recognize each other, how they could meet... The two guys in the park... but he never saw other guys again... Was there a password? A secret?
He had to be content with mentally undressing the guys who appealed to him most. He evaluated the baskets in the trousers, trying to guess what they hid from his eyes. At times the basket was so evident that his imagination could easily guess the size, the shape and the position. At other times, to his chagrin, soft trousers hid everything and made it look as if there was nothing there. But sometimes a certain movement of the pelvis, a certain position of the legs, would outline promising, exciting shapes even in soft trousers.
These days Martino no longer fantasized about detective or science fiction plots, but only about erotic adventures with those who attracted him. He imagined the most incredible situations, the most fanciful approaches, but the final scene was always, more or less, what he saw in the park. The hours and the place might be different, but he and ³the other² were kissing, opening their clothes, and one of them, sometimes he and sometimes the other, crouched to suck, then turned and was fucked, and both of them oragasmed, orgasmed, orgasmed...
He saw a boy who looked like a hooligan, but very beautiful, and he fancied he was a policeman, and that the other was shut in a cell, and then he talked to him and persuaded him to do it with him. They undressed, then sucked each other, then they fucked through the cell bars...
He saw a young sailor he liked very much, and fancied they were at sea during a tempest, and they fucked each other on the ship¹s deck, swept by gusts and wind-blown water; he fucked him while the young sailor, his trousers at his ankles, held himself tight to the mainmast and urged him to fuck harder...
He fancied he was a doctor in the army, performing induction physicals. He fingered the genitals of any handsome recruit, and if the boy was aroused, he locked the door, lowered his trousers and first made the boy suck him for a good while, then he fucked the ass of the available young man...
He saw a young Arab immigrant selling lighters on the street, and in his fantasy he saw himself alone with the young man in an oasis. He raised the Arab¹s djellaba and saw that he was already aroused, so he knelt to suck him, then he turned back, offering himself to the Arab and they started to make love, with passion, amongst the palm trees, under the burning sun...
He fancied doing it in the elevator with a very sexy neighbor. There was a blackout and the elevator stopped between floors. The other noticed his swelling fly and caressed it... and after a short while they both were completely naked, and they were fucking with such vigorous thrusts that the elevator rocked with their rhythm. When at last the elevator was released and lowered to the nearest floor, there were his father and all the neighbors, really worried, but they came out at ease and smiling, and nobody could guess what they had just done...
But the days were passing and all this happened only in his mind. Martino wanted a real male! He desired him with all his being.
Fantasies, fantasies... just fantasies. He wanked off, caressing his nipples until they were hard, caressing all over his body, lingering on his buttocks and teasing his hole with a finger dripping with his saliva, dreaming it was a good cock...
He dreamed he was an Oriental prince with a harem of male slaves of all races, all colors, beautiful and ready to satisfy his desires. 365 slaves, one for each day of the year...
He fancied he was the coach of a basketball team, and that he fucked all the team¹s athletes, included the reserves. He had all them in a row, and he fucked them one after the other, under the showers... He fancied he was the dean at the university, the one in charge of freshman admissions. He explained to them that, to be accepted, they had to have sex with him. Those who gave him the most pleasure received full scholarships, but the others had to pay tuition and books as usual...
He fancied being an explorer discovering a new tribe of very beautiful savage men, all young and strong, who captured him, stripped him stark naked, and then started having sex with him, one after the other. These savage men liked sex with him so much that they chose him as their chief, with the condition that he spend each day making love with one of them in the special hut erected for him at the center of the village...
One day, while he was passing through the square outside the central station¹s square, he saw in the window of a small souvenir shop a small reproduction of Michelangelo¹s David, about 10 inches tall. He admired it and in the end decided to buy it. That David was some hunk!
When his father saw the little statue, there was none of the criticism Martino expected about the way he was spending his money. He only said, ³Michelangelo! A great Italian, a great sculptor! His David should be the physical model for all our youth - a sound, natural musculature. Not swollen with steroids, like those poor idiot bodybuilders do!²
Martino, that same night, closed in his bedroom, started to wank off looking at his David, while with his fingertips brushed the perfect shape, and he dreamed of brushing the perfect muscles of a male who undressed just for him. Martino kissed the little statue and talked to it.
³David, will I never meet you? If I could, I¹d let you do whatever you like with my body, I¹d be your devoted slave, your faithful lover... Ah, if you could become real, now, here, and wanting to make love with me... come into my bed, enjoy with me... then go back to be just a little statue, waiting for the next time... And dad in his room, suspecting nothing. It would be beautiful, wonderful. It would be a fairy tale.²
But it was just that, a fairy tale, only a fairy tale he was telling himself.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 2
In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is
http://andrejkoymasky.com
If you want to send me feed-back (really appreciated, be it positive or negative), please e-mail at
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