Nunc Dimittis

NUNC DIMITTIS 7

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"NUNC DIMITTIS" 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.

NUNC DIMITTIS

by Andrej Koymasky © 2019
Witten on May 8th 1985
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by Antonio

CHAPTER 7

IAfter two days, James was still with me. We arrived in Denver, Colorado. It was a big industrial city with lots of factories working for the army.

Whilst I went around doing my interviews and writing my articles, he "played the tourist", as he put it. In the evenings we would meet at the hotel, we'd have dinner, then go to our room to have sex. Once we'd had our fill, we would lie together, half embraced, telling each other about our day or talking about other things. He would fall asleep huddled against me like a child, serene, satisfied.

Then I too would fall asleep, grateful for that sweet, tender, innocent warmth.

But when we were making love, he was anything but childlike: he was like a mature, strong, passionate man, certainly not innocent, with a cunning and ferocious sensuality.

One evening he told me that he had been approached by a boy his own age.

"Was he your type?"

"Pretty much."

"Did you go with him?"

"Of course."

"To his place?"

"No, he didn't live alone..."

"So, where?"

"You'll never guess!" he answered with a sly smile.

"In the toilets?"

"No, no, much too bleak."

"In the park, then?"

"Certainly not - too many people around in daytime."

"Well... in a cinema?"

"They're closed in the afternoon..."

"Well where, then?"

"Guess!" he said, amused by this game.

I started to list possible places: in a car, in a sauna, a pool, a gym, at the public baths... but he continued to shake his head merrily.

"At least give me a clue..." I implored, amused, not knowing what else to think.

"Music."

"Music? A record shop?"

"Don't be silly!"

It the end he told me: in front of City Hall there was a bandstand where a Military Band was performing, with the structure hidden from view by drapes all around, in the American colours. Unseen, they slid under there and had sex, while the band played on.

"Very patriotic, but dangerous!" I commented.

He laughed, happy as a child, and shrugged his shoulders.

"So I suppose now you don't feel like having sex with me." I observed, looking him in the eye with a sly smile.

"Are you crazy? And how, I want it! He was just a boy, you are a man." he said smiling. Bringing his legs up to his chest, he offered his nice butt to me and I plunged joyfully into him. He liked to be kissed while I was pumping into his warm and narrow channel...

Our next stop was in Wichita, Kansas.

Christmas Day we were in Tulsa, Oklahoma. James looked for a Catholic church to go to Mass. It seemed like a century since I had last thought about religion or been to church.

Pulling his leg, I asked him: "How can you reconcile going to Mass with all the fucking we do?"

He looked at me in amazement: "Why? What do you find strange in that? Church is one thing, and sex is another, isn't it?"

"But the church condemns us homosexuals."

"Not at all! It's the puritans who condemn us, not the Church. We are the Church, all of us, not just a few priests. I think you've got a bit confused in your head..."

He seemed so sure of himself that I didn't think it the right moment to press the point. But I didn't go to Church with him: I really didn't feel like it.

After so many years, I started thinking again about the problem that I had shelved. It isn't that from that day on I thought often about it, nor persistently. But I did think about it again... and I couldn't find an answer within me.

So I started typing up a new article on the war effort.

When James got back, he covered my eyes with his hands from behind and said: "No work today, it's a holiday. I've brought you a surprise. Guess what?"

"Oh, you and your riddles! You've brought me a nice young man?"

"Why, am I not enough for you any more?"

"No, no, I was just joking. Go on, tell me what it is."

"Nothing. A little thought. You are Italian. I know in Italy there is a nice tradition. And they assured me this comes from Italy..."

He handed me a box, and I opened it. Inside were the little plaster figures of a Christmas Crib. I looked at them with wide open eyes.

" I haven't had a Crib since I was little. Thank you James, it's really beautiful..."

"Happy Christmas, Andrew."

"Happy Christmas. You are a dear boy." I said, touched.

"Hey, stop kidding! You and I are just together for a few days, and then it'll all be over!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, astonished by the sudden harshness of his tone.

"Nothing, sorry... I was just reminding myself."

"Yourself? Do you mean...?"

"Don't worry. I'll try to resist your fascination."

"My... fascination?"

"Yep! If you... if you didn't have to leave I think... I could fall in love with you. I like you too much!"

"But I shall have to leave. Would you prefer us to separate now, then?"

"Are you crazy? I've found a handsome guy, manly and likeable, who knows how to make love... I want to enjoy you for as long as I can. In fact, what are we playing at, chattering like a couple of old fishwives! Undress me, bad boy!"

Laughing, we undressed and jumped on the bed to have sex. He loved to be mine, and I loved to be inside him. He loved to be fucked long and slow, and I loved to take him for as long as I could hold out... Well, for quite a long time.

We went to Texas, stopping first in Fort Worth, then in Huston.

We were in New Orleans, Louisiana for New Year's. We saw in the New Year naked in our bed, sipping real French champagne and flirting by candlelight. On the stroke of midnight, we embraced and started to make love. He asked me to take him in every possible position, because: "What you do well on New Year's Day, you do better for the whole year," he said. And we certainly did it very, very well.

New Orleans is an old city by American standards, and is very beautiful; you can still feel its French origins. We stopped there for five days and visited the city together.

January 5th we went to Mobile, in Alabama.

Here it was my turn to be approached. I had just left the hotel, after James and I had arranged where to meet in the evening. I was walking towards my car looking in my diary at my meetings for the day, in order to best organize my rounds, when I was suddenly startled by the sound of loud braking in front of me, making me jump back. But in so doing I bumped into a young man coming up behind me, and we both fell down. While we were getting up again, I apologized and asked the young man if he was hurt. He shook his head:

"No, no, nothing. Yourself?"

"Me neither..."

The young man bent down to pick up the bag he had dropped as he fell, and checked the contents. It was a record, and was broken in half. The bag bore the name of a nearby shop and I realised he had only just bought it. So I wanted to buy him a new one, because it was obviously my fault it was broken.

The young man must have been around twenty-two years old; his unruly hair was dark brown, he had thick eyebrows, incredibly deep-looking dark eyes, soft, fleshy lips, a straight and well-shaped nose, in a slightly square face. His expression was both rough and delicate at the same time. I liked him!

When we left the shop with the new record, he thanked me, then insisted I popped over to his place: "It's very close by. I'd like to get you a drink and let you listen to this record. It's the least I can do to repay your kindness."

I liked the boy, and my first appointment of the morning was not till quite late, so I accepted.

He lived on the third floor of an apartment block. His flat was simple and clean: a typical American working class apartment. His name was Jim.

" Mum and Dad are at work and my brother is at school..." he said as we went in "Look, this is my room."

It was a small room with a bed, a desk, a wardrobe and a small bookshelf. On the desk was the phonograph: a Victor, 'His Master's Voice'. He wound it up, put on the record and out of the horn came a jolly piece of Dixieland jazz.

The only chair was covered in clothes, so Jim waved me to sit on his bed. Then he left the room and returned with two glasses.

"Your health, cheers!" he said.

We sipped our drinks: it was neat gin.

And than I realized that the youth was looking at me in an odd way: not brazen, but certainly interested. He slipped off his shoes and got on the bed, half lying and propping himself up on one elbow.

I changed my sitting position so I wouldn't have my back to him.

"First time in Mobile?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Staying long?"

"No, I leave tomorrow."

"You're British, right?"

"Yes."

"Married?"

"No."

I felt a sort of tension in him, in his voice. But I wasn't yet sure of what I'd begun to suspect the boy might have in mind.

"I don't have a girl either," he said after a short silence. "I'm not interested in them, girls."

By this time I had very little doubt left about his intentions. I looked at him and figured that, all things considered, it might be interesting to try.

So I encouraged him: "You too?" I simply asked.

I shifted one arm to the other side of his body, so that, supporting myself on this arm, I was turned more toward him. Now Jim seemed a little embarrassed, nervous. I could read the uncertainty in his eyes. But I wanted him to make the first move.

"May I call you by your first name?"

"Of course."

"How old are you?"

"Almost twenty-seven."

"Nice age."

"Really? Why?"

"You're independent. And who knows how many adventures you are able to have, Andrew..."

"I can't complain. And you?"

"A few. But I'm never able to pick up the sort of person I like." He remained silent for a while, then continued, "So, afterwards, I just jerk off, alone..."

I noticed that those last words had cost him some effort, so I decided to help him a bit: "I understand. In spite of all my experience, that happens to me too sometimes. Especially when I'm out of my own surroundings, a foreigner like I am now; how am I supposed to find somebody to spend an intimate time with?"

Jim looked straight into my eyes; he seemed to be trying to say something, then stopped. Damn it, I thought, go on!

Just as if he'd read my mind, he said: "Look at me, for example: for several days I've been feeling all worked up inside. Even right now..." he said, lowering his eyes in embarrassment.

I looked right between his legs and said: "At least it doesn't show, at any rate."

He rubbed his crotch and said: "Only because my trousers are loose. But... if you were to feel here..."

So I laid my hand on his basket and felt it pulsate. I caressed it lightly, measuring and outlining its dimensions.

"You're well endowed." I said

"And... you?" he asked, beginning at last to overcome his shyness.

"Have a go... feel it for yourself."

Without a word, he started to finger me in his turn. I was already half-erect and my member became turgid at once at his contact.

"You're getting excited... is it because of me?" he asked.

"What do you think?"

So finally Jim make up his mind and stated to unbutton my fly. Caressing each other, rummaging in the other's clothes, we undressed each other. His body was covered by a fine, silky down, dark, barely present on his arms, shoulders and sides, thicker on his legs, chest and stomach, and luxuriant in his groin. His body exuded an exciting muskiness, a good male smell that stirred up all my lust.

Jim, quite beside himself with desire, emitted hoarse moans of pleasure and tossed and turned frenziedly under my increasingly vigorous and excited assaults. He gave himself up to my caress, his eyes closed, shaking his head now and then with the intensity of his pleasure. He started to beg me to take him. I was happy to comply and entered him in a few powerful strokes. He pushed against me with wild joy. And when at last I filled him with my seed, Jim too reached his orgasm in a frenzy of shots and moans.

Then he let himself go with a blissful smile, shuddering again from time to time, gradually relaxing, until he let out a deep sigh.

He opened his eyes again and, looking seriously at me, exclaimed: "Jeez, what a good fuck! You literally drove me crazy, you're incredible. And yet when I first thought about trying it on with you, I wasn't sure..."

"You weren't sure? Why?"

"Normally I go with older, bigger, hairier and less refined men. I used to just like truckers or dockers, you see - rough types who would fuck me hard... But now, I'm changed... It's a pity you're leaving tomorrow."

We dressed, and I soon had to leave him to finally go to work.

The following day I went with James to Florida; we stopped two days in Tampa and two in Miami. Florida was really beautiful and, despite the fact that its was January and the country was at war, there was an enjoyable holiday feel about it. And there were several handsome boys, though I contented myself with just looking at them. I think James did have several adventures during those days, but in our lovemaking at night he was always very lively.

The boy was stubborn, I'd almost say obsessive, about wanting to split all the expenses with me: hotel, gasoline, food. I realised it was important for him not to feel maintained, exploited, so I agreed without argument.

Around the end of January we reached Charleston in South Carolina. Here I met the famous reporter J. C. Hagerty of the New York Times, and with him I had a long discussion that proved really useful to me.

James aroused in me a great feeling of tenderness. In bed his bursting vitality made each of our couplings highly enjoyable. But I tried not to show that too much, because I saw he was struggling not to fall in love with me. As our parting approached, I tried to make things easier for him.

If we had lived in the same city, I'm quite sure that I would have fallen in love with him. Several times I caught myself thinking he would have made a splendid companion, that it would have been beautiful to have been able to live together. But it was useless deluding myself. James, though he was a remarkable boy, was, and had to remain, just a... bed companion. A splendid bed companion.

We went to Richmond, Virginia. Here we parted, or to be exact, James left me. It was the third day we were in town. That night, when we met, I saw he was tense.

So I asked him: "Something wrong?"

"No..."

"So, what's up?"

"I have to talk with you, Andrew."

"Tell me..."

"Well, today after lunch I met a barrister from San Francisco." he said and fell silent.

"And then...?"

"We had sex."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Very much." he answered and was silent again. So I asked him:

"So where's the problem?"

"There isn't really... that is... he's invited me to go back to San Francisco with him."

"Good. It's a great opportunity, isn't it?"

"Yes, but just... you see..."

"Go on, spit it out" I encouraged him with a smile.

"I'm really sorry to leave you."

"We knew it was going to happen, didn't we?"

"Yes, we knew. But I'm sorry all the same. It's been great with you, really. Really great."

"Me too. But now the time has come to part with no regrets..."

"But... we must celebrate. I want this last night to be unforgettable."

And so it was. When we bade each other farewell he said: "It's been really beautiful meeting you Andrew. And it was really hard for me not to fall in love with you. Lucky the boy who becomes your lover..."

Two days later I returned alone to Washington, where I stopped for several days. Then I visited Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York again and finally Boston. Apart from a few fleeting adventures, I didn't have any other interesting sexual encounters in the States.

Back in New York I boarded the plane and returned to London.

The long trip to the States had been really useful. Not only on a professional level, in fact my articles had achieved a remarkable success, but also on a psychological level. I was properly myself again, like I had been before meeting Ben. It's not that I had erased his memory; on the contrary, he was more alive in me than ever. But thanks to Nick and James, and perhaps even Jim a little, I had completely overcome the depression into which I had fallen so utterly when I was struck by my double tragedy. Not that this meant that I dived headlong into a thousand erotic adventures the minute I was back in London. I just found my balance again.

When I met Lady Martha I told her of my re-discovered equilibrium and serenity.

She nodded and smiled: "I'm really happy for you, my dear Andrew. I'm really happy for you. And I know that you will never forget Benjamin."

In 1942 I made further trips abroad for The Times, and went several times to the Front as well.

On June 4th the battle of Midway took place. It was the turning-point of the Second World War, even if at the time nobody quite realised it, least of all me. In fact I've always been better at what are called "colour" articles, or documentary articles, than at political criticism or forward-looking articles; mainly because my judgement has always been too influenced by my instinctive likes and dislikes, despite all my efforts to be objective.

In that year I had several adventures, but never a proper relationship. In fact the longest relationship I remember lasted just three weeks. It was with an British soldier who was assigned to me as a driver during my tour in the African Colonies. His name was Matthew. He wasn't really homosexual but, given that he hadn't had a woman for a long time, and that he wasn't really attracted by the African ones, he sometimes gave in to some release with his fellow soldiers. At least, that was what he told me, though, with me at least, he did things that a real heterosexual would hardly have agreed to do. True, it was I who had to make the first move, but he accepted it without any hesitation.

It happened the third day we were together. We had reached a British camp, I showed my credentials and Matt was organising our belongings into the tent that had been assigned to us.

I entered the tent and closed the flaps carefully. Matt looked at me questioningly, but said nothing.

"I want to change, I'm drenched with sweat. And I don't want to give a display..." I explained with a smile.

He nodded and continued his chores. I undressed completely: I felt just a slight hesitation when I reached my underpants, but finally I pulled those off too. Then I started to rub myself down with a clammy towel. I was looking at Matt and I suddenly felt the desire to try something on with him. He was a handsome boy, twenty-four years old, I guessed with a beautiful body under his uniform.

So I asked him: "Matt? Would you mind rubbing my back down?"

He looked across to me, his eyes seemed to linger a moment on my body, then he nodded. I handed him the towel, he went behind me and started to rub my back, my sides, my buttocks. I sighed and murmured:

"Good, like that... very good..."

He carried on with an unbelievable lightness, pleasurable, and I had an instant hard-on. I turned towards him so that he could see my state. He noticed, but went on rubbing down my body as if nothing had happened.

So I said to him: "If you undress as well, I can give you a good rub down too..."

"Thank you, I think... I need it too, it's so hot in here..." he answered and immediately stripped off. I took the towel and started to rub his beautiful lean body. Then I suggested:

"What about a nice massage?"

He looked at me, hesitating at first, then with a faintly wicked smile, his eyes lingering on my erect member for a moment, he said: "Sure, sir. It'll be better if I lie on the bed, it'll be more comfortable for both of us..."

"Yes, that'd be better..." I said.

He lay on his back, looking up at me. I sat beside him and, instead of starting my massage, embraced him and kissed him full on the mouth. For a moment he seemed to tense, but then he responded and soon we were entwined in a fantastic sixty-nine. Then he turned onto his stomach and offered himself to me without saying a word, just pushing and brushing his buttocks against my hard rod. I pushed, and sank into him with enormous pleasure. He didn't emit a sound, but was throbbing under my steady hammering. I would say he very much enjoyed being fucked.

In fact, from that day on, we had sex every single night and almost every time he was the initiator, totally naturally, coming into my camp bed to blow me hard and then offering me his sweet hole. Whatever, it was purely and simply a story of sex, with no affection involved. Matt wasn't special in bed, but his body was really very enjoyable.

In November I left Africa and after a short stay in London, I went overseas again, this time to Arabia, where I remained until mid-December. That trip was very useful to me, to brush up and deepen my knowledge of Arabic. I was also able to check how easy it was to have sex with the Arab men, who in reality, with a very few exceptions, are neither purely heterosexual nor purely homosexual. I wasn't particularly attracted by Arab men, but I didn't dislike them either. What I really appreciated was that, if an Arab man liked me and wanted to have sex with me, he just acted in such a way that I could clearly understand his desire. So, if the guy appealed to me too, it was easy to arrange an intimate meeting. The only problem was that, apart from the very young men, they were all just tops and tended to consider only their own sexual gratification, without really caring about their partner's pleasure.

I spent Christmas 1942 in London. On that occasion, I put out the small plaster Crib I'd received as a present from James. And for the first time in years, I went to Mass of my own accord.

On January 23rd 1943 the English troops entered Tripoli in Libya and I was sent there to write a new series of articles. I stayed five weeks in Libya, sharing my bed with my "boy", a seventeen-year-old Libyan, very sweet and compliant. The first night, without being asked, and without giving him any clues about my sexuality, he approached my bed and asked me in his approximate English if I wanted him in bed with me. A little astonished, I answered yes. So he quickly threw off his tunic, climbed stark naked into my bed and started to caress me all over my body. He was really skilled and succeeded in arousing me very fast. He knew how to give pleasure to a man, he was evidently an expert. I also liked it very much when he helped me in my bath tub and inevitably it ended with me taking him there as well. He really loved being penetrated by me, and was also really skilled in giving head.

In March I was back in London again.

On the 12th, I went out to dinner with some of my colleagues at the Cockspur to celebrate our Chief Archivist's birthday. From where I was sitting I could see two Arabs sitting at a nearby table. One of them was rather ugly, but the other, though not really beautiful, was decidedly interesting. So, all through the dinner, I scarcely took my eyes off him: I felt him to be very sensuous. The young Arab himself often looked at me for quite a long time, while continuing to chat with his companion. Our eyes met, but neither of us lowered his gaze or looked away. I felt more and more attracted by that young Arab and I was soon incredibly aroused. So I decided that I had to pick him up at all costs.

One of my colleagues noticed that my attention was drawn towards the centre of the room, but a nice girl was sitting right behind my Arab's table, so he ragged me about how I had fallen for her. Of course I didn't correct him. And I was so lucky that, at the end of our dinner, both the girl and the two Arabs decided to leave. So I took my leave of my colleagues with an excuse, and left the restaurant, while my colleague winked and crossed his fingers for me in a gesture of good luck.

Once outside, I started to follow the two Arabs discreetly at a distance.

When they reached Pall Mall, the two men said goodbye and parted. My man walked up Haymarket. I continued to follow him. He turned his head a couple of times to look at me, but kept on walking. We reached Piccadilly Circus. The young man sat on the steps beneath the statue of Eros. Then I approached him and asked him in Arabic if I might sit near him. I saw his astonished expression at hearing me speak his language, but he assented:

"Please do. It's really unusual to meet a European speaking my language so fluently." he said with a smile.

"I've studied it. And I've been to Arab countries a few times as well."

"For work?"

"Right."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a journalist."

"Ah, a good job!"

As we spoke, I examined him from close up. When the Arabs are dressed in western clothes, in my opinion, they either have an extreme formal rigour, almost like fashion illustrations, or they are decidedly slovenly, badly dressed. This one, however, though elegantly dressed, had a hint of casualness that made him extremely appealing. A really white and perfectly ironed shirt, but with the collar open and no tie. A jacket of a refined cut, but unbuttoned. Trousers with a perfect crease, highly-polished shoes, but light blue socks... A mass of soft, black, curly hair framed his long face, with chiselled, manly features, yet fine and delicate at the same time. A wide mouth with the corners turned slightly upwards. Though he was carefully shaven, the faint shadow of his beard was barely visible. His nose, short and well-moulded, two thick, black eyebrows well divided, two deep, black eyes you could drown in. A hint of a dimple in his chin, a visible but not prominent Adam's apple, two big hairless hands with tapering fingers, with no gold on them. The fly of his soft trousers revealed nothing. But I felt I desired him and noticed I was again terribly aroused.

We chatted for a long while, about various matters. He said he was a first year student at the Faculty of Political Sciences.

"But then, you must be very young - eighteen, nineteen?" I said in astonishment.

"No, I'm twenty-four. I've already graduated in Economic Sciences."

"Wasn't one degree enough?"

"No." he answered simply.

Then he asked me how old I was. We continued to talk. He said he was very fond of English literature and especially theatre. He also loved riding, music, dance, good food...

He also asked me a lot about myself, my life. He was very cultured and educated, and he was really likeable and I felt more and more attracted by him. But having approached him, I didn't have the courage to make the proposal that urged inside me.

He displayed a very friendly attitude towards me and, as is the custom between Arabs, he turned completely to face me when speaking and gesticulated a lot. Sometimes one of his hands would touch my arm or leg, but it didn't seem as if there was anything behind all that touching: it was simply normal behaviour with the Arabs.

"Do you feel like walking a little?" he asked me at one point.

"Yes. Where to?"

"Shall we head for the Thames?"

"Good. My car's in Trafalgar Square." I answered.

I enjoyed walking beside him in the darkness of the blackout.

As we passed the National Gallery he looked up at the clock: "It's late... I must get back."

"I can give you a lift..."

"No, thank you. I live quite close by."

"So... See you then..." I said, fearing it was more a farewell than a goodbye.

But he said: "Yes, I would like to see you again. How can we arrange it?"

I felt more optimistic: "I'll give you my telephone number..."

I wrote it down on a card, and also put my name, saying: "We haven't introduced ourselves yet. I'm Andrew Nike."

"How d'you do? I am Jussuf."

We shook hands and his firm and frank grip made me quiver as if I had received an electric shock. We arranged to meet the following day in the Strand.

Back home, I was so perturbed that I had difficulty falling asleep. I promised myself that next day when I went to meet him, I would make my proposition.

He was dressed differently, but still with that air of slightly careless elegance. As he saw me, he broke into a beaming smile and came towards me. His gait too was at the same time athletic and elegant; there was something sensual, almost feline about it. I asked him where he would like to go.

"I know London very little. Would you be my guide?"

"Gladly. How come you know the city so little? How long have you been here?"

"A little less than seven months."

"Oh, so where did you get your first degree then?"

"At Cairo."

We spent all evening wandering, then went to a French restaurant. I kept saying to myself that I must reveal my feelings for him, or at least let him realise it, but I still could not summon up the courage. So at the end of our evening I walked home with him, contenting myself with fixing a new meeting for the next day.

The following morning, at the newspaper office, they asked me to go to Africa again but, unusually, I asked them to send another reporter. I didn't want to leave Jussuf. In the afternoon, I rushed to meet him.

He welcomed me with his usual magnificent smile. I always judge people by the way they smile and I am very seldom mistaken. And the smile of my new friend promised wonderful things. Yet I was still not able to make him the proposal that burned in my veins. Why was I so stupidly shy?

We arrived at the Tower of London just before closing time. Sadly, because of the war, the Crown jewels weren't on display, having been stored away in a safe place.

The evening ended like all the others. For the following day I had invited him to come to my Club to ride together. The rules had changed and a permanent member's guest (but just one at a time) could be admitted to the riding grounds.

Jussuf had brought a riding outfit. When he entered the cubicle to change, I felt the impulse to enter with him but, again, though I continued to call myself a stupid, I couldn't pluck up the courage.

He rode very well, in a quite instinctive way but with elegance. He had a very personal and particular style but very nice to watch. The more I looked at him, the stronger my desire became.

We had dinner at 'The Norman Kings'.

After the meal, summoning up all my courage, I proposed: "I live quite nearby... would you like to pop over to my place?"

"Willingly." he answered quite naturally.

Arriving in Cadogan Lane, we went upstairs.

"It's very nice in here, furnished with a very good taste. And it's very spacious, too. Do you live all alone?"

"Yes..."

But tell him, stupid! I was thinking, but I was incapable, completely incapable of embarking on that speech. So, after showing him the entire apartment, we sat on two different armchairs and we talked, talked... then a strange silence fell. At last, Jussuf broke it:

"Andrew?"

"Yes?"

"Since the first time we met you have been looking at me in a way that... it seems you like me, you desire me." Taken unawares I blushed violently. He smiled and continued: "So I wasn't wrong. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I... I..."

"I want you too. I notice you have a big bed: why don't you take me to it?" he said standing up.

I stood up too and we embraced. He led me to the bedroom. We undressed each other with studied slowness. His body was a surprise to me: I expected it to be hairy, but, apart from his legs, it was almost hairless. Just a light tuft of hair in the centre of his chest and a narrow straight line starting just above his navel, becoming a little thicker on his stomach, ending in a thick bush in his groin, from whence emerged a splendid circumcised penis. He had a lean and slender body, of a very beautiful amber colour, flashing with muscles, almost feline. Wide shoulders, narrow waist and sound and muscular legs.

We knelt on the bed, one in front of the other and our mouths searched for each other until we united in a long and deep kiss. Jussuf started to gently rub my nipples. We were both fully aroused and yet we were taking our time in splendid preliminaries.

To see the pleasure he derived from my attentions pleased me enormously and I begun to tremble violently. So he started to caress my hair and neck and murmured: "What's happening? What is it? Do you like it? Calm down, Andrew... In a while I'll make you happy, you'll see, it will be beautiful..."

I was high in an incredible way. After a while he seized me by my sides, pushed me onto my back and lay on top of me. I thought I was becoming crazy, I could hardly breathe. I saw his slightly tensed face, his half-closed eyes, I felt his heavy breath. I saw him lightly biting his lower lip, then lick his lips with light, short tongue strokes while an intense lust shone in his deep, dark eyes.

And finally he bowed his head and dived into me, penetrating me in a single, skilled stroke. I saw his arms and trunk muscles dart and tense with the sensation. When that thoroughbred stallion started to buck above me, I felt like laughing and crying at the same time from the intensity of the pleasure.

He leaned on me more and brushed my lips with a kiss. I pulled him to me with vigour and kissed him deeply. Then Jussuf, lit up by a wonderful smile, reached full steam.

It was the most beautiful and endless ride of all my life. Though he was very excited the whole time, he seemed never to reach orgasm. I was the first to reach it though he didn't even brush my member, nor did I masturbate. When I came he laughed happily and continued to hammer into me with manly vigour.

And finally Jussuf too discharged into me, thrusting with powerful strokes and moaning loudly. His strong feverish hands held me tight and when he had completely unloaded himself inside me, he went limp on top of me, breathing heavily. His eyes shone with sheer joy.

"Andrew! I'm so happy to have met you!"

"Me too, Jussuf. You are fabulous."

We remained embraced for a long while and he forcibly enveloped me with his arms and legs, wrapping me protectively all over.

"Do you want to be my lover, Andrew?"

"I was going to ask you..."

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 8

Please, donate to keep alive Nidty site, that allows you to read these pages, Thank you - Andrej

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, or desire to help me revising my translation into English of another of my stories, send me an e-mail at

[andrej@andrejkoymasky.com](mailto:andrej@andrejkoymasky.com?subject=Your Stories)

(I can read only English, French, Italian... Andrej)