SLOUCHING TOWARDS BETHLEHEM Part 3
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. ***
June 21, 1990. Midsummer's Eve.
Things are getting a little ugly here in Berzy. The results of the election--the second one, the one that was held on June 6, the day I first saw Mill doing Pauli--were officially certified by the Moesian General Assembly, and people are upset. The Communists won. The MCP ran a whole slate of candidates, as they were legally permitted to do. After all, Moesia is supposed to be a democracy now. They got 43% of the vote, more than any other party, and under the rules of the new Moesian constitution, which was evidently hastily written on a cocktail napkin last December even before the martyrs of the revolution were buried, their candidate goes up for a general election for president on July 15. It's a foregone conclusion that Manorszky, the MCP party leader, is going to win. The MCP is just too well organized compared to the opposition parties. Manorszky was some kind of minor deputy in the Gaenescu government. He's denounced Communism and he's made a lot of comforting noises about democracy and freedom, but everybody suspects he's a hard-liner in disguise. The reaction of pro-democracy activists here in Berzy was to fling Molotov cocktails at the MCP headquarters. The mayor of Berzy declared a state of emergency and sent the Secuirtorsk into the streets for the first time since the revolution, so we're all in lockdown and can't leave the Metropole. My mom called--by miracle she managed to get through on the Metropole's one working phone line--and before the line went dead I assured her that things look much worse on CNN than they are in real life. I said that but I'm not sure I believe it. Standing on the third-floor balcony of the Metropole watching tanks rumble through the streets it's hard to believe this country is supposedly a democracy now. Go figure.
Being in lockdown and under quasi martial law has its advantages, though. Because no one can go out in the streets without a Securitorsk escort, everybody was frozen where they were. As it just so happened, at the time the curfew was declared Mara was at the Hotel Dansk--the dorm for the international students, where we all started out--and Pauli was at his parents' house here in Berzy. Which means all of the other claimants to Mill's dick are being carefully cordoned off behind military barricades. I'm betting Mill can't go 24 hours without firing his spunk into somebody's orifice, and it's 11PM as I write this and the riots don't look like they're letting up. But I'm not going to go see him. I'm going to sit in my room and watch coverage of the riots on TV. The events of the last few days have convinced me that Mill has been purposely toying with me for weeks and I'm going to let him stew in it a bit. I want him to come to me begging for MY dick, not the other way around. Let the big rich handsome smart well-hung Jim Morrison look-alike, who can fuck pretty much anybody he wants of either gender, admit he needs the help of a long-haired, pot-bellied New Mexico ranch boy to get his rocks off. Then we'll see who gets the upper hand.
June 23.
To say some shit went down yesterday would be an understatement. I've got to sort it all out in my head before I can begin to write it down. I did get laid, but I'll get to that in a minute. This is going to be another super-long entry but I can't help it.
This is not the time or the place to give a rundown on ethnic cultural history in Moesia, so I'll skim over it briefly. Basically in this country there are the Moesians plus some other polyglot minorities--Magyars, Serbs, Romanians, and even some Germans (though most of them fled to West Germany as soon as the revolution happened and Gaenescu's troops weren't guarding the borders). A lot of the minorities live in these little medieval-style villages out in the countryside where the Midsummer or summer solstice festival is still a big deal and has been for centuries. Gaenescu made a big thing about all these minority groups living in harmony together in Moesia, but it was all bullshit--he said that just to prove that he ran the most advanced country in Eastern Europe when in reality these groups hated each other. To promote the "harmony" he invited representatives of all these groups to form a big parade in Berzy on Midsummer's Day. Well, of course Gaenescu's running around playing Commie bandit in the jungles of Kampuchea now, but yesterday wagon loads of Magyars, Serbs, Romanians and gypsies (what few survived the Holocaust, because Hitler cleaned out this country pretty good) showed up at the gates of Berzy assuming they would march in the parade just like any other year. Evidently no one got word to the villages that Berzy was in a state of martial law, and when these people were turned away and told they couldn't enter the city some assumed the Moesian-controlled Securitorsk was trying to deny them their cultural heritage. Most of them understood what was going on, but a few bands of ruffians--mostly kids who think their particular minority groups should have the right to break Moesia up into a headache of dinky little fiefdoms--started throwing rocks and starting shit. You can imagine the rest. Tanks, rubber bullets, Secuitorsk forces running all over the place, President Bush on TV denouncing the violence, etc., etc. To make a long story short, we were all still trapped in the Metropole, second day in a row, and this time we were being serenaded by multiple choruses of random machine-gun fire from various parts of the city.
The Metropole doesn't serve food and we can't even go to the cafe so we have to make due with what we have here. About lunchtime Mill banged on my door. "I was wondering if you were hungry," he said. "I've got some crackers, some lunch meat and lots of Zlotny in my room, if you're interested." I haven't eaten since last night so of course I was, and I went over to his room. I wondered if Mill was trying to turn me on because when he came to get me he had his shirt off and the top button of his shorts undone, showing his boxers, like it was a hot day but it hasn't really been that hot the last few days. I noticed his chest hair is starting to grow back--right now it's a thin forest of little millimeter-long black bristles. So we sat at the little table in his room and chowed down on crackers, salami, etc. and washed it down with warm Zlotny. (I'm getting pretty used to warm beer--there aren't many refrigerators in Berzy because the electricity is so spotty, and ice cubes are unknown here in the summer). The Zlotny hit us hard because we'd had so little to eat. Then Mill got chatty. We started talking about being bi. "When did you know you were?" he said, sprawled in his chair, his bare feet up on the table, hairy ankles crossed over each other.
"I guess when I started jacking off. I thought about boys as often as I thought about girls."
"I can't remember when I wasn't bi," Mill shrugged. "I never even knew there was a word for it. When I see a hot chick I want to lick her tits and stick my dick into her sweet pussy. When I see a hot guy I want to suck his dick and put my penis in his ass. It's that simple." He drank some beer. "What have you done? With guys, I mean."
I told him about sleeping with my cousin when I was 14, and fooling around with Dave in high school, and Mario in the dorm at the very end of the year last year. Mill seemed surprised that I didn't have that much experience. Evidently he has lots. He's fooled around with guys since he was like 11. He told me an interesting story about blowing the captain of his high school football team in the shower, and some other boyfriends he had for brief periods of time. But he kept coming back to Mara, saying that they were meant for each other. "No one knows it yet, but we're engaged," he said, scratching an itch on his foot, like he was talking about the most casual thing in the world. "I mean, there's no ring or anything yet, but we decided we want to get married. We're holding off the announcement for a while--our families will totally freak out. We probably won't get married 'til after college. But I do want to marry her."
This seemed totally incongruous to me, that two people as sexually promiscuous as Mill and Mara didn't see some kind of inherent conflict in marrying each other while fucking the daylights out of everyone around them, but I didn't want to say so. "That's great that she's cool with you being with guys," I commented, hoping his answer would shed some light on the subject.
It did. "Well, she understands I need it. And I do. It's sort of complicated, our arrangement. She allows me to bang guys, but not other girls. She told me if she ever caught me with another woman, she'd dump me--no second chance, nothing."
I drank. "That seems kind of unfair. I mean, she can bang other guys, can't she? She's off doing Dmitri right now."
Mill shrugged. "She's not bisexual. There's a difference. Girls don't turn her on at all. But with me, she knows that because I have to have sex with guys too, there's something that she's totally incapable of giving me no matter how hard she tries. She's OK with that, but a relationship is a two-way street. She'll let me do that but it has to be balanced by something else. So, she goes with other guys."
"That doesn't make sense. She's totally hetero. She IS capable of being totally fulfilled by one person. I can see where she'd think the guys you fuck are no threat to her--but aren't the guys SHE'S with a threat to YOU?"
Mill looked like he didn't want to think about this. He drank down what was left in his Zlotny bottle, reached down to the floor and picked up another one. He wrenched the cap off with his teeth and spat it onto the floor. He drank. "Well, it is what it is," he said. He took his feet off the table and sat up in the chair. "Show me your underwear," he told me, a smile gracing his face.
"What?" It wasn't such an odd request but it was an abrupt change of subject.
"Take your shorts off and let me see what you've got. I've always wondered if you were a briefs or boxers guy."
It was kind of a strange way to start a seduction, but I'm not dumb enough to question when Mill tells me to start taking off my clothes--that's Pauli's job! I stood up, unbelted my jeans and dropped them to my ankles. I had on my T-shirt but it didn't hang down far enough to cover my package. So there I was in my plain white Hanes briefs, starting a hard-on that got a little stiffer when I saw Mill inspecting it.
He looked disappointed. "Oh, Dan, come on," he said, probably only half-joking. "What, did Target have a white sale or something?"
My response was quick and witty, if I say so myself. "I didn't think I'd get laid this summer, so what was the point in bringing any of my expensive silk boxers that nobody would see?" In truth I had only a few pair of stylish boxers; they were at home in New Mexico.
He laughed. "Touche," he said. He drank more beer. "Come over here," he said. My shorts still around my ankles, I waddled over to his chair, but I remained in a standing position. My crotch--now a long hard lump straining the fabric of my white jockeys--was at the perfect comfortable blow-job level. My heart was pounding. The one person I most wanted to fuck on this entire side of the planet was now inches away from me and obviously in an amorous mood. I hoped I didn't do anything to screw it up.
But Mill didn't blow me. He reached out and touched the bar in my groin, gently running his fingers over it, feeling me through the fabric. "Get rid of the shoes and your shorts," he commanded softly. I took them off. He ran his hand down my legs, brushing the hair on them, and it felt damn good. With his other hand he yanked on the hem of my T-shirt. "Lose this too," he ordered, in the same soft tone of voice. I took my shirt off. I was a little self-conscious about my paunch, but then again he saw me in the bathroom of the other hotel that day he shaved. I'm not fat but I could stand to lose about 20 extra pounds, and I carry most of it in my gut and my thighs. Mill licked his finger and traced a delicious wet line from the waistband of my underwear up to my navel, which he fingered gently. With his other hand, the one he'd used to stroke me, he reached down into his own lap and unzipped his shorts. The boxers he had on today were mostly black with mallard ducks on them. One duck was poking up through the fly of his shorts, buoyed aloft by a hard rounded knob that I knew was the head of his beautiful penis.
"There's a game I used to play when I was younger," he said, slowly feeling his own dick through his boxers. "I knew touching other boys was supposed to be bad, and seeing their dicks hard was supposed to be bad too. So I would play with other boys where we could get each other off but we weren't allowed to see each other, or touch each other directly with our hands or anything else. It sounds incredibly lame and childish, but it still makes me hot when I think about it."
There was a strange sense of lost-youth melancholy about Mill's words. "It doesn't sound lame," I said. I wasn't even disappointed that Mill wasn't going to get me in his mouth or that, if I elected to play, evidently I wouldn't even be able to see the hard monster poking up from his lap. I had the feeling this wasn't the last time we were going to have some kind of sexual contact, so I figured there'd be other chances.
"Do you want to play?" he said, stroking my dick through my briefs as if to add an additional incentive.
"Yeah."
Mill stood up. He paused for a moment to drink some more Zlotny, but then he came up right close to me. He cupped my penis and balls firmly through the spongy white cotton. My hand was almost shaking when I reached over and felt him through his boxers.
"Be careful," he said with a grin. "Boxers are trickier. They've got that big fly opening and I could slip out at any moment. If the skin of your hand touches me, you lose."
"What happens if I lose, then?"
"Then I get to do anything I want to you."
"In that case I'm not so sure I want to win."
He moved forward. Our lips met. He was such a gentle and tender kisser that it really charmed me. His kiss was warm and wet, and our tongues moved past each other. I didn't even realize until the kiss was over that he was working on me down below, stroking my penis through my underwear. He was very good at it. Every few seconds he would push my dick over to the left or the right, like a windshield wiper. Because my dick was pressed up against me inside the briefs, the skin of my head rubbed my groin when he did that, and it was extra stimulation on the top of my dick which otherwise he couldn't touch. I wondered how many guys he'd done this to. Probably a lot, but I didn't care. I wasn't as good at masturbating him through his boxers as he was doing me, but when he began kissing me again, more forcefully this time, and making faint little whimpering noises, I knew he was enjoying it.
We could hear the chatter of a machine gun from somewhere not far from the hotel. I don't think either one of us gave it a second thought. This was deliciously sweet and forbidden. It wasn't a blow job or a butt fuck or some other kind of full-on sex, and that was the point. For some reason what we were doing was even hotter in a subtle kind of way. Precum was leaking out of my dick in a steady supply, and as Mill moved it back and forth inside my underwear it started to make a large wet streak spanning my crotch. The way he was doing me, the pleasure was somehow muted, but on another level I could feel it building up very subtlely. I moaned while I kissed him and my hands caressed his long hard dick, the warm balls hanging low inside his boxers. Our bellies were pressed against each other and I could feel the itchy little scrape of Mill's half grown-back body hair on the smooth skin of my stomach. It was fantastic!
Finally Mill let go of me and dropped to his knees at my feet, necessitating that I let go of him too. At first I thought he was abandoning the game and couldn't resist pulling down my underwear and getting my stiff, precum-slicked rod between his lips. But he didn't. He must have had a thing for using beer as a personal lubricant, because he picked his bottle of Zlotny off the table and doused the front of my briefs with it. I giggled as it foamed, but it looked disgusting, like I'd pissed myself. There was a method to his madness though and I soon found out what it was. He started to suck the beer from the fabric, while at the same time licking and stimulating my dick. He licked all up and down my shaft, all the way to my balls. He used his tongue and his teeth to press the wet fabric of my underwear to as close a contour of my dick as possible. The pleasure I hadn't been feeling fully suddenly made itself known. Mill was giving me a blow job through my briefs, something I hadn't thought about before. "Oh, man, that feels great," I gasped. I couldn't think of what to do with my hands. I ended up twining my fingers together on the top of my head, something I'd seen Mill do when Mara blew him. I arched my back and concentrated on the feelings vibrating through my dick. With his hands Mill caressed my ass, but never once slipped his fingers under or through the fabric of my underwear.
I was so used to jacking off in the closet and trying not to be heard that right now it felt so good and so liberating to be approaching orgasm and not have to worry about how loud I was being. I don't usually talk a lot during sex but this time I couldn't shut up. "Oh, God, that's great. Aw, yeah. Keep doing that. Ohh man that feels good. Mill, dude, I think I'm gonna cum. I think I'm gonna cum...shit, man, you're gonna make me cum...you're making me cum, I'm gonna fucking cum in my underwear man, oh Jesus OHHH GOD..."
He used his hands and his mouth to draw the orgasm out of me. He had his mouth positioned right over the head of my dick, which was so painfully hard it was pulling the waistband of my underwear away from my belly, and with one hand he rubbed along my shaft and with his other he gently squeezed my balls. The pressure on my nuts was what finally detonated the explosion. I finally shut up. I held my breath as I came--something I was used to doing while trying to be quiet in the closet--my hands never leaving the top of my head, my fingers clenching tightly together. I must have shot ten or twelve hard spurts of cum into my briefs, and Mill was down there sucking it up as it oozed and soaked through the fabric. Finally he backed away. The front of my briefs was totally see-through now, completely soaked with precum, warm Zlotny, Mill's spit and my own semen. It never even crossed my mind that you could blow somebody that way, but I'm not that creative in matters of sex. Mill's little preadolescent game had turned to be pretty hard-core after all. I had to tell myself it was OK to breathe again. I exhaled heavily.
"Good?" he said, hauling himself to his feet and reaching for the Zlotny--he'd only used about half of what was left in his bottle to wet me down.
"Fucking incredible, man." I knew that the wet stuff on my underwear would get pretty gross as it got cold, so I took them off, and I was now completely naked.
He stepped up against me again, still holding his beer in that swaggering way I had seen him behave once with Pauli. "You have a job to finish," he reminded me. He was still hard.
I started on him, doing what I was doing before, but I knew there was no way I could match what he did to me. So I forfeited the game. I jerked his dick a little too far to the left, and it slipped out of the fly of his mallard-duck boxers and slapped against the palm of my other hand. "Whoops," I said, but I didn't let go. I gently massaged his head, pressing the precum out of his slit and against my palm. It felt good, slippery and warm.
"You lose," he said, and took a swig of beer.
"I'm sorry."
"Hey, man, shit happens."
"What's my punishment?"
I thought for sure he was going to make me take him in my ass--and I didn't quite know how to tell him that I wasn't too keen on that--but again he surprised me. "Stand straight up with your legs touching. Put your hands on your head again like before." I did. He reached down and rubbed me between my thighs, but he didn't touch my balls or my now-slack dick. He looked up at the top of my head. "You're what, six-one?"
"Yeah."
"What do you weigh, about one-eighty?"
"One-ninety-five," I said, a little self-conscious. "Not a bit of it muscle."
He set his beer on the table and stripped off his boxers so he was naked too. They lay in a heap on the wooden floor next to my wet briefs. He got right up against me again. "This only works if your partner is taller than you," he said. "And Pauli can't do it because his legs are too skinny. But you've got nice meaty thighs." Suddenly I knew what he had in mind, and I was right. A moment later I felt the thick hot arrow of his penis pushing gently between my thighs. Mill was about four inches shorter than me, which was perfect. My balls hung down so they rested right on top of his dick. He put his arms around me, low around my middle, and clasped his hands together at the small of my back. I returned his embrace, wrapping my arms around his back. Mill buried his face in my neck, kissing me gently, and started rocking back and forth with his hips, pulling his dick in and out between my thighs. If someone had described this kind of sex to me I would have thought you'd need lube to do this properly, but the way he was doing it was absolutely perfect. The light dusting of hair on my thighs generated the perfect amount of friction with his penis. Every time he thrust between my legs his dick brushed the bottom of my ball sack lightly, and it felt good. I had just cum, but my dick grew to about half-erection, pressed between my belly and Mill's. I kissed his neck and his beautiful smooth tan shoulders as he continued. Our lips met a few times, but not so often. I was really starting to enjoy this, and I hugged Mill closer to me. He responded by tightening his embrace and pumping faster. It was a huge turn-on. I guess what I like about it is that I was doing something for him that he could not possibly do with Mara (who was too short) or Pauli (who was too thin). Only I could please him in this way, and that was pretty cool.
Soon he was panting and pumping faster and faster between my thighs. His nails were starting to dig in to the small of my back. He kissed my neck with greater intensity. "Dan," he whispered breathlessly. "I'm going to--oh honey--Danny, Danny, Danny, oh God yes..." Nobody calls me Danny. I hate being called Danny. But somehow I liked it from him. I tried to hug him as hard as possible. I wanted to fucking crush the guy in my embrace, not only to intensify the effect for him as he approached orgasm, but to hug him in a way that probably neither Mara nor Pauli could easily do. Again he responded by tightening his own hold on me. It felt like my ribs were going to cave in. His hips bucked furiously and then he cried out and I felt a warm, wet explosion between my thighs. Some of his cum splattered down the back of my legs but a good portion of it landed on the floor behind me. Slowly our grips relaxed but we were still hugging loosely. He smiled and we kissed again. "That was awesome," he said. His dick was still clamped between my thighs, but now it was softening, and felt slippery. "Wish you could try it, I'm too short, unless I stand on a box or something."
"We can try it laying down," I said hopefully.
"Naah, doesn't work as well. You've got to be standing so your leg muscles have some tension in them."
He pulled away from me and reached for his beer. As he drank it we heard machine-gun fire again, reminding us of where we were and what was going on. And I thought of something that instantly depressed me: this guy's engaged. It seemed really strange that I'd done what I just did with a guy who was going to be married, and whose fiancee knew he did this kind of thing. But, to each their own I guess.
"I could use a cold shower," Mill said after he drained his beer bottle. "You're welcome to stay here in my room tonight." I knew that was an invitation for further sex later on, and I quickly agreed, figuring I'd take advantage of Mara's absence for as long as possible. I said I should go next door and get some things. I pulled on my shorts, commando-style--my underwear was totally trashed--and didn't bother with my shirt. I went to my room, picked up my toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and soap (which are all very valuable commodities here in Moesia), and wandered over next door. Mill was in the shower, and he was singing Pink Floyd. That seemed a strange thing to be singing in the shower, but go figure. He was singing a song from Momentary Lapse of Reason that I remembered hearing on the radio the day before I left for Moesia. Like his words about the forbidden game he'd played as a kid, it touched me with a bit of melancholy.
For the rest of the day we hung out in bed, drank Zlotnys, listened to news reports on the radio, and fooled around. About two hours after our little "game" we got down to serious again. We started touching each other and we were both hard as bricks, and we couldn't get enough of exploring each other's bodies with our hands, rubbing our hands over the other's belly and his chest, poking and tweaking nipples, dipping a finger in the clefts of our asses. Then Mill shifted around in bed so he was facing the opposite direction from me. He said nothing but I knew this was an invitation to a 69, and I wasn't about to give it up. For the first time I slipped Mill's long hard penis between my lips. As soon as my mouth touched him he started making these strange noises, half-moaning, half-giggling, but I knew he was happy. He took my dick into his mouth. From what I had observed of his actions with Pauli I knew that Mill could deep-throat pretty good, and he spared me none of the effort he's expended on Pauli. When I felt a gentle warm pressure on the head of my dick and a sucking sensation on my balls I realized Mill had taken me all the way, and the pressure I was feeling was me pressing my tip against the very back of his throat. We sucked for as long as we both could stand it. He came first, my mouth suddenly filling with the bitter salty shock of semen. I haven't been with many guys but I was experienced enough to know that the trick with having a guy cum in your mouth is to swallow as many times and as quickly as you can, because the faster you can swallow his load the less you'll taste it. After the first initial blast I didn't even taste Mill, his sperm went from his dick right down into my belly in half a second, and he moaned contentedly and his body shuddered and I knew he'd liked it. It sounds weird, but I wasn't even sure of exactly when I came. Maybe I had too many Zlotnys--we drank down all the rest of Mill's stash that night--but I remember thinking I was going to cum and then I felt a soft warm peace spreading inside of me, and it was over, but I didn't remember actually ejaculating though I was sure I must have. Mill reassumed his position in the bed, putting his arms around me and pulling me close. "You're like a big warm teddy bear," he said, nuzzling his head against my neck.
"I'm not hairy enough," I said. "Aren't bears supposed to be furry?"
He chuckled. "OK, you're a big warm SHAVED teddy bear. Big deal." He patted my paunchy stomach, and his body went limp as if he was supremely comfortable, and he probably was. I certainly was.
We might have slept for a few minutes, but we heard gunfire and police whistles and a clinking, rumbling sound out on the street that could only have been a tank. "I guess the Securitorsk is still at it," Mill said absently, his body not even moving.
"I hope they'll lift the curfew tomorrow. I'm getting sick of being trapped in this hotel."
"It'd be more fun if the bar in the basement was open." He lay still for a while and then said, "Dan, do you want to, you know, hang out once in a while, like we did tonight, for the rest of the summer? I mean, if you're interested in doing this again."
I thought he would never ask. "Sure, I'm interested." But I had to know: "What about Pauli?"
"Pauli's turned out to be a pretty big disappointment. Hell, you've seen him through your little peep hole. It almost took a goddamn United Nations resolution to get him to let me in his ass."
I thought Mill should know the truth, so I chose that moment to say, "I gotta tell you, anal isn't really my thing. I mean, I could top if I had to, and I guess I do think about it once in a while, but bottoming isn't something that I really enjoy."
"It's all right," Mill replied lazily. "I can tell you'd rather suck a dick than do just about anything else though, wouldn't you?"
"You got that right."
"Yeah, me too. It's all right. We'll get along fine. Hell, we had a blast tonight didn't we? And we're still supposed to be under martial law."
I honestly don't remember what we said after that, or if we said anything. We fell asleep in each other's arms. Despite the gunfire and the tanks rattling and the shouts of police and Securitorsk agents in the street in front of the Metropole, we were too exhausted to stay awake. It seemed like Mill and I were in a little glass bubble injected into this strange country, and whatever happened, somehow we would never let it touch us. It was an odd feeling.
Martial law must have been lifted sometime during the night, because toward dawn the door of the hotel room opened and I was awakened by footsteps. I heard someone clicking the lamp on the table, but electricity is shut off to most districts in Berzy after midnight so of course the light didn't work. "Shit," I heard a voice mutter--a female voice. I knew right away it was Mara.
She fumbled, a match flared and a moment later touched light to a candle. Most people in Berzy have candles or lanterns at the ready in case they need light when the electricity is off. She held up the candle and saw Mill (who was still asleep) all wrapped up in my arms. If she had a reaction I didn't perceive it. She tripped on one of the many empty Zlotny bottles lying along the floor. I could tell she was tired. I'd be too if I had to spend the last two days under curfew with Dmitri in that fleatrap place that served as our other dorm.
"Dan," she said. "You guys all right?"
Mill awakened and raised his head off my bicep, which had been his pillow for most of the last hour. I could barely feel my arm at all. "Oh, hi, honey," he said sleepily.
She sat down in one of the chairs and began untying her shoes. "Looks like it was quite a party," she commented. Her shoes clomped to the floor. "Good night, Dan. No offense, but you're lying in my spot. We'll see you at breakfast."
I sat up in bed. I realized I was naked and my briefs were lying on the floor next to the chair Mara sat in. "My shorts are over there by the foot of the bed," I said. "Would you mind handing them to me?" She threw me my Bermuda shorts. I put them on under the covers, commando-style again. Then I got up. "Good night," I said. "Glad you made it back."
"Yeah. Good night." She smiled weakly. It struck me for the first time that Mara might be jealous. What reason would she have to be jealous of me? If their arrangement was as casual and understanding as Mill made it out to be this afternoon, then she had nothing to fear from me--did she?
I had enough energy to stumble back to my own room, close the door, and collapse onto my bed. I woke up this morning, a hand thrown across my eyes, wearing my Bermuda shorts with no underwear. My shoes, socks, T-shirt and jockey briefs were still in Mara and Mill's room. Evidently I'd left my TV switched on when I left my room yesterday, and when the electricity was powered up it came back on, showing news footage of the tanks rolling through the streets. The riots and martial law was over, and the Provisional Council--the interim government that had ruled Moesia since the revolution--claimed to be fully in charge. I slept about another five hours, went down to the cafe and ate some greasy bacon, and came back to write this entry.
What now? You got me. I guess I'm Mill's lover now, and I'm the flavor of the month, replacing Pauli. I also get the strange feeling that I've become Mara's enemy, and I don't know why. Whatever happens, the endgame has yet to be played.
July 5, 1990.
It's been almost two weeks since I've written. I should be keeping up better with this journal, but honestly I really don't have the energy.
The political situation continues to deteriorate. It's 10 days now until the presidential elections, and Manorszky is riding high. Today he was parading through the streets in a limo with a loudspeaker on the top of it, broadcasting that he's "pro-democracy" and will "make Moesia great again." The other day there was a demonstration in the central square of Berzy, and a bunch of Communist sympathizers, mostly young people, started some shit with some off-duty Securitorsk officers. There was a fracas and two kids got killed. But at least the city isn't under martial law, and we don't see tanks in the streets, though Mill says there will be plenty of trouble when the elections happen. Evidently the U.S. State Department is considering warning Americans to leave Moesia, which would mean the abrupt end of our summer abroad, but no Americans have been harmed here yet, and it doesn't look likely that any will be.
Things have been really strange in the Mara, Mill, Pauli and Dan Show. Since the day I slept with Mill I've been watching carefully through the peephole in the closet, but I haven't been watching sexual things. Right after the martial law thing she got sort of sick, and I knew she wasn't feeling well--she was on the rag, I suspect, and two days of being trapped at Dmitri's beck and call probably took a lot out of her. She hasn't been back to see Dmitri since martial law. Nor has she done much with her boyfriend. After the 4th of July party that the American students had yesterday evening she blew him, and for a little while it was like old times, but it's obvious she's stewing about something. Mill puts on his cheerful face every day and acts like nothing is wrong, but it seems obvious to me that there's a rift in their relationship. I wonder, am I the cause of it?
I have had sex with Mill a few times since Midsummer's Eve. One evening about a week after that, Mara was gone--she was attending some kind of meeting with the female Moesian students, evidently some kind of birth-control or women's rights type of thing--and Mill suggested we go downstairs to Radulesci's bar. We had a couple of beers, watched the wrestling and I even won some money betting on the jerk-off trough. I can't say it's very arousing watching four smelly Moesian guys masturbate into a metal trough for money, but it's definitely something you don't see in the States. When we had enough to drink we went up to my room. I lay on my bed, a bottle of Zlotny in my hand, and I asked Mill, "Do you want to play that game again? The no-looking, no-touching game." He smiled at me, and he began to take off his shoes.
"We can play any time you want, Dan," he said.
"Can I ask you something, dude?"
"Sure."
"Is Mara jealous of me?"
Mill laughed. "Mara isn't capable of being jealous, man. It's all right. Don't worry about anything."
I really like being with Mill. He's terrific in every way. The sex is great, and I feel really great with him, very peaceful and safe. I like having him in my arms. When we're laying together after sucking each other off, which we do almost every time we're together now, it's really hard to believe he's getting married to Mara. Sometimes when I'm not with him I'll still watch from the peep hole in my closet. The weather has been so warm lately that it's rare to see Mill at home with a shirt on, and I love just looking at him, his tanned back, his dark nipples, the black hair that's growing back on his chest and his belly. I notice that--he hasn't shaved in quite some time. Is that a sign that he's on the outs with Mara?
Pauli has been a perfect bastard to me lately. Every time I try to talk to him or approach him in class or when we're on a field trip or something, he shies away from me, or he's just plain rude. "I no like Metallica anymore," he told me one day, as if this was supposed to hurt me. "I like Debbie Gibson now. She hot!" As if to emphasize the fact he showed me his school binder, and the cover was plastered with pictures of Debbie Gibson he cut out of magazines. I don't know who he thinks he's fooling. Pauli's as queer as a three dollar bill, and I was an idiot not to see it before. It's also pretty obvious, the way he slinks around throwing sideways glances at Mill and me, that he's had his hots stomped pretty severely. I didn't think he had it that bad for Mill, emotionally speaking, but I guess he did. Poor guy.
I was really homesick yesterday, over 4th of July. We went to a celebration at the other hotel, the dorm for the exchange students. They had an American flag and tried to grill hamburgers, but there's about three hibachis in all of Moesia and you have to use peat and cow pies because there's no briquettes. Imagine what a hamburger barbecued over cow patties tastes like--not to mention what kind of bacteria will take up permanent residence in your lower intestine once you eat one. They showed an American movie though, Back to the Future. It was in English, but had Moesian subtitles. That was pretty wacky. I had that old Huey Lewis song, "Back in Time," stuck in my head til late this afternoon. There was nothing I wanted more than a nice warm shower, a real bona fide barbecued steak, and my soft bed back in New Mexico. But we have six more weeks here. I'll make it, somehow.
July 13.
Pauli was such a shit to me today. We were all on a tour to visit the gallery of the National Assembly and watch the pathetic joke that Moesia has for a legislature try to get something done. I was waiting in the line and Pauli pushed right in front of me, really blatantly. I told him he should go back and wait his turn, and he turned to me, gave me his meanest look and said, "Shut the fook up. You American faggot!" He said it loud so everyone could hear. So I said in Moesian, equally loudly, "The howling dog does not complain that the rooster crows too loud," which is one of their favorite sayings, roughly equivalent to our thing about the pot and the kettle. Pauli turned on his heel and gave me a pretty vicious shove. Naizhetzku broke it up, but Pauli glared at me pretty meanly. The kid definitely has a bug up his ass.
Over dinner at the cafe I asked Mill if Pauli knew that we were sleeping together. "No," he replied, "I mean, not technically." I asked what that meant and Mill explained that he'd just said to Pauli he didn't think it was a great idea that they get together again, and when Pauli accused him of sleeping with someone else, Mill didn't deny it.
"Oh, great. Well, he obviously figured out there's something up between us. He's been totally mean to me lately--you saw what he did today."
"Ah, Pauli's harmless," Mill shrugged. "He'll get over it. He would have had to deal with me leaving in a month anyway--better that he gets it out of his system now."
Mill and I haven't had sex in about four days. But he and Mara haven't been at it in that time either. I'm starting to get pretty randy. When I was back in my room after dinner I had a pretty exquisite jack-off session. I was replaying in my mind the time I saw Mill and Mara both fuck Pauli, except I put myself in the middle instead of him. That got me hot enough to start masturbating, but after a while somehow in my mind the positions changed. Now it was Mill standing on the bed, his legs apart, and me on my knees beneath him, pulling on his hips to draw his penis as deep into my throat as possible. And at the same time my own rock-hard meat was slamming in and out of Mara's pussy, which was so wet it was dripping down her thighs. It had been a long time since I've cum inside a woman, and there's nothing quite like that feeling. I lost it and shot a wad that splattered all over my stomach, my chest, the bed and even a little on the floor. It was certainly the best jack-off I've had since the time I actually watched the threesome.
I have half a mind to ask Mill if he'd be interested in a threesome with Mara. I don't have the guts to ask if I can be in the position of actually fucking her--I get the feeling Mill reserves that privilege for himself--but, as awesome as Mill is by himself, I'm incredibly turned on by the idea of including Mara in our activities. After all it seems the natural progression of our little triangle. But I haven't asked yet. While I don't think Mill would have a problem with it, I wonder if Mara would. I wish I knew the right thing to do.
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.)