Russian Rendezvous

Russian Rendezvous

Russian Rendezvous
by Douglas McLeod
© 2000

1994. The Berlin Wall had fallen five years before. The USSR had broken into smaller republics. And the Russian Republic's economy was in tatters. All of this had led my company to send me to Moscow to seek out business opportunities.

I had been in the capital for a number of weeks when I had the adventure I recount for you.

It was a sweltering July afternoon. I was mentally exhausted from a day of negotiation in a language I didn't know very well. I had dismissed my translator and assistant and decided to walk to couple of miles back to my hotel. A mistake. After a couple of miles, I was almost physically exhausted and was dragging myself around the corner of the Kremlin to the last two blocks to my hotel.

In this time of financial disarray in the country, it was not uncommon to see people attempting to sell whatever they had on street corners. I had grown accustomed to these sights over the past weeks and usually didn't pay any attention anymore. Particularly when I was as tired as I was.

I was stopped by a man in the uniform of the Russian Army, a sergeant. He was at least six foot tall, with the blond hair of someone from the north near Finland. His blond hair was spotted with grey, his face lined with smile lines indicating he was closer to forty than thirty. He smiled at me and said something in rapid Russian. In my drained state I didn't catch a word so I used my pat Russian phrase indicating I didn't understand.

In response, the sergeant said, "You are American? I like Americans."

"No, I'm Canadian."

"Ah, better like Canadians. I Pytor Nicholavich Mededev."

I didn't put a lot of stock in his liking Canadians better, I'm sure if I had said I was from Atlantis the response would have reflected that. "Hello, Pytor Nicholavich, I'm William. What can I do for you?"

"Hello, William," he pronounced it Villiam as did most Russians, "I would do for you. What can I do for you?"

I smiled and gave my standard response to street vendors, "Thanks but no thanks." I turned to continue my way home.

Pytor was not off-put. "I tour you 'round Moscow, okay?" I shook my head. "I show you best restaurant." At my head shake, "I take you to girls."

That startled me and I stopped. Pytor thought he had found my weakness but, instead, I simply smiled at his earnestness and the obvious need he had for earning some money. "I'm sorry, Pytor Nicholavich, but no. I am going back to my hotel and I'm going to sleep. Thanks but no thanks."

He was crestfallen. His broad smile faded. His shoulders sagged.

I felt guilty. It was apparent Pytor did not stand on street corners because he wanted to; he probably hadn't been paid for several months ­ like most soldiers in the Russian Army. I reached for my wallet and offered Pytor a 200 ruble note. [At the time, worth about $10 and about half his monthly salary]

He shook his head and turned away. I had insulted him. Offering him charity rather than an opportunity to earn the money.

Shrugging my shoulders, I continued my journey.

I hadn't gone more than twenty feet when I heard footsteps behind me. It was Pytor. "Sir, I give personal service to you. You tired I give body rub. Good body rub."

Now he hit on my weakness. My exhausted, sore body. "Pytor Nicholavich, are you telling me you know how to give a massage?"

His face split into a smile again. "Yes, William, good massage. Make you feel better" He was nodding vigorously.

"Alright, Pytor Nicholavich, 200 rubles for good massage."

"Best massage. I rub sore muscles and make you relaxed."

Five minutes later we were in my hotel room. Pytor asked me to take off my clothes and lay across the end of the double bed. He went off to the bathroom to get some lotion. I hesitated. I admit I was a little uncomfortable at my actions. However much I wanted a massage, I was aware that this man, although a little older than I, was also much fitter and less tired than I.

Pytor, seeing me still fully dressed, when he returned. Smiled his broad smile, "William, you not worry, Pytor Nicholavich is honourable man. Only massage not robber."

I laughed at his perception and started to unbutton my shirt. I peeled off my sweaty clothes retaining only my briefs. At the same time, Pytor took off his uniform jacket and started to remove his pants saying, "I not get grease on uniform. Only good uniform." Pytor retained his shirt which covered his cheap cotton underwear.

I nodded and lay across the bed as instructed. Pytor squirted lotion on my back and started the massage.

He didn't lie. He was good. He pushed and pulled my skin. He manipulated each sore muscle. I was really enjoying myself and, the only danger I felt was of falling asleep. Pytor moved from my back to work on my legs. It was delicious. My fatigue dropped away with each stroke. One part of my body responded more to the new energy than the rest of me. I paid it no attention. A masseur back home had explained that an erection during a massage was a not uncommon response to the physical stimulation was not sexual.

Pytor asked me to turn over. I did so. He continued working on my legs. He didn't seem to notice the little tent in my briefs. From my legs he moved up to my chest, neck and arms. The little tent disappeared as he continued to work.

Within an hour, it was apparent Pytor was finishing his work on my grateful body. With difficulty I pulled my mind back from the blissful emptiness into which I had sunk.

I opened my eyes and smiled up at Pytor. "Wonderful. Very, very good. Thank you."

"I'm glad you enjoy."

I struggled off the bed and over to my wallet. As I offered the 200 rubles again, I noticed his sweat soaked shirt. Knowing the state of Russian showers I asked if he would like to shower before redressing. His face lit up. The opportunity to use a western shower was too good to turn down and he took immediate advantage.

Almost fifteen minutes later the water turned off, and a naked Pytor returned to the room drying himself. Despite myself I noticed how firm and fit his body actually was.

Pytor, as a soldier, being naked in front of another man wasn't a big deal. As for me, I hadn't sex in all the time I was in Russia. The little tent returned.

While drying himself, Pytor was chattering away, seeming oblivious of my predicament as I lounged on the bed. Chattering away about his wife and kids and life in Russia. I shifted to disguise the tent.

He picked up his shirt still damp with sweat. He turned with his broad smile, "William, you need other help from Pytor?"

"Uh, uh Š" was my articulate reply.

"My shirt still wet. I still have time. For more money I give more massage."

"Uh, uh, Š but, Pytor Nicholavich, you're marriedŠ ."

He approached the bed. "William, you nice man. I need more money. We help each other, okay?"

"More money?"

"200 rubles. You have? You think fair?"

He was standing next to the bed now. Naked. Willing. Good-looking. A hand-job from another man versus a self-administered hand-job. What kind of self-respecting gay man would I be if I refused? A frustrated, horny one, that's who.

"I think that's very fair, Pytor Nicholavich."

Again he smiled. He knelt on the edge of the bed and reached for the waist band of my briefs. I raised my ass allowing him to pull them down my legs. At the same time, I scooted over a bit in the bed so Pytor could sit down.

Pytor smiled into my eyes and reached for my hard, six inch cock. I moaned. "You like?"

"Oh, yes, I like."

His rough, yet gentle, hand moved across the head of my cut cock. He hefted his own uncut cock and laughed at the difference. He moved his hand down to the shaft and began a slow, gentle stroke. Again, I moaned.

His slow strokes were wonderful. And were not what I had expected. A straight man doing a hand-job for money I expected a quick, hard pounding. Nothing doing. Slow, gentle almost loving.

My right hand moved to Pytor's leg and stroked in rhythm with his hand on my cock. He shifted slightly to give me access to his uncut cock. It was a little larger than before. I grasped it and Pytor shifted closer still. His cock grew slowly as I kept pace with his hand. A nice healthy seven inches of cock.

The two of us matched each other. Slow strokes on hot, hard cocks. I moved my hand down to the hairy balls below the cock and I rubbed them gently. It was Pytor's turn to moan. I smiled up to him and continued to roll the two balls against each other.

A drop of precum appeared on Pytor's cock. I swiped it with a finger and brought it up to my mouth. A salty-sweet taste. I moved my head forward and engulfed that throbbing beauty. My Russian soldier moaned again as my mouth encased his cock. I swirled my tongue around the head pushing back the foreskin. I worked my way down to the bush at the end of Pytor's cock. Applying suction I moved back up to the head. And back down again. More and more quickly.

Pytor' pace on my cock increased at the same rate. I felt myself getting close to cumming. Suddenly, Pytor pulled his hand away from my cock and with both hands pulled my head off his cock. I was reluctant to let go and increased my suction.

"No. William."

My straight man was having second thoughts, I thought. But no, he just wanted to shift into a more comfortable position. He pushed me into the middle of the bed and lay down next to me. Feet to head. 69 position. And before I knew it he sucked my cock into his mouth. I gasped. It was obvious he hadn't done this before but he was definitely game. His tongue licked the head as he came up the shaft. Pytor's head plunged down again. Until he gagged a bit.

"Sorry," he said.

"Hell, nothing to be sorry about. It feels great." I encouraged and returned to my own work on his cock.

Pytor was a fast learner and eventually he managed to get down to my short and curly's.

Once again I was so turned on that I was on the verge of shooting. Once again Pytor stopped and pulled me off his throbbing cock. "No, William," he said again, "too fast."

I was a little confused about what he meant. "What Š too fast?"

"You have more money? You give Pytor Nicholavich 200 more?" Ever the businessman.

"200 more?" I was expecting this to be the end of this little interlude ­ I had no desire to keep paying ­ a little blackmail I thought.

Pytor shifted his position again. This time he knelt on the bed and put his head down to the bedspread. His ass pointed directly at me. His hard cock and hairy balls dangled between his legs. A lovely sight, indeed.

He turned his head around and suggested, "You fook Pytor Nicholavich?"

"WhatŠ?" This was unbelievable.

He reached around with one hand and pulled at his ass cheek. "You fook me?"

"Pytor Nicholavich, are you sure? You ever been fucked? You ever had a cock in your ass?"

"No, William."

"Why?" Inside I was asking myself why I was making this so difficult for myself. I mean, a straight man was offering me his ass ­ his virgin ass!

"You nice man. I need money. Uh, Š I Š uh Š horny." He blushed as he said it.

I laughed. "Pytor Nicholavich, get ready to be fucked." I moved up behind him. I traced Pytor's firm, round ass with my hand. "I am going to fuck your virgin ass. You ready?"

Receiving an affirmative nod, I picked up the lotion he used for the massage, I squirted some into my hand. I stroked his hairy ass-crack concentrating on his hole. It puckered each time I touched it. I worked the hole with one finger. Moving in small circles and pushing slightly forward. I slipped in to the first knuckle. Pytor jerked slightly.

"You, okay?"

"Yes, William. Fook me, William."

I moved the invading finger forward to the second knuckle. Less resistance this time. I pulled back, squirted lotion onto a second finger and inserted both into the hole.

Pytor groaned ­ not in pain this time.

I pushed and pulled my fingers in and out of the tight, virgin hole. My cock got harder in anticipation. I removed both fingers to make room for my cock; Pytor's ass moved back with the motion. He was ready.

I moved closer. I rubbed the head of my cock along his ass-crack. Each time I touched the hole, Pytor pushed back. Such an invitation.

Without warning, I pushed the head of my cock into Pytor's asshole. "Aaaahhhh!" We both moaned at the same time. I pushed further intending to go slow as one should with virgins.

My virgin had other ideas. With one shove he impaled himself on my cock. Again we moaned in unison. And I began fucking the tightest hole I had ever encountered.

Pytor met each thrust with a groan and he was muttering in Russian. I didn't need to be fluent to understand ­ he was enjoying this as much as I was.

I pulled my cock completely out and rammed all the way back in. Two, three, four times. On the fourth time, I didn't replace my cock. Pytor turned his head and protested.

"Turn over. I want to watch your face as I fuck your straight ass."

In an instant, he lay on his back, legs over his shoulders, "Fookmefookmefookme," he chanted.

Never one to disappoint, I rammed forward again. Pytor grunted. I rammed again. He moaned again. We were in sync. Each time I pushed in the head of my cock brushed his prostate.

Pytor's cock throbbed and bounced on his abdomen. I grabbed it and stroked the shaft in time with my invading cock. Pytor smiled up at me.

"You fook good, William."

"You're good to fuck, Pytor Nicholavich. Damn good. Tight, virgin, straight ass." I thrust to the hilt with each word.

Pytor groaned and writhed beneath me, "Too soon. Too soon."

I couldn't have stopped if I had wanted to; despite his pleas I continued to ram his ass and stroke his cock.

"Da. Da! DA! DA!!"

"Yeah, Pytor, I'm shooting up your ass. Cumming in your straight ass."

I shot off as I continue to thrust into his ass. Moments later he sprayed both of us with his cum.

I collapsed onto him. His arms hugged me closer. "William, you fook very good."

"Pytor Nicholavich, you are the best fuck I have ever had. You sure you've never been fucked?"

"Never, William, but we do again?"

"What Š you horny Š wasn't this enough?" I pulled myself up onto my hands and looked into his eyes. I twitched my softening cock in his ass.

He tightened his ass muscles. "Not now, another day, yes?"

"Good. I don't think I could get hard again today."

"Me too." Pytor released me and rolled me over pulling my cock out of his ass. "I shower now, okay?"

"Okay." I started to get up to join him but he pushed me back on to the bed, shaking his head. A straight man. Okay to fuck him but not to shower together. Ah, well.

I was still lying on the bed when he emerged from the bathroom. He picked up his pants and before pulling them on he brought me my wallet. Ever the businessman. I pulled out 450 rubles and gave them to Pytor. He tried to give me back the extra 50.

"A tip, " I said, and at his quizzical look, "a bonus for good work."

"Ah," he said with understanding, "When again you need body rub? Tomorrow?"

I considered my schedule before replying, "Not tomorrow, next day."

Pytor smiled his broad smile and saying "Next day at corner, yes?"

"You bet. Same corner."

Fully dressed now he came up to the bed and leaned over. I brought my head up to kiss him, he pulled back and thrust out his hand for me to shake. Ever the straight man.

"Oh, well," I said to myself as Pytor Nicholavich let himself out of the room. "Until next time."