WRITINGS FROM THE PRISON by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006 written on December 10th 1994 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Richard E. Grant
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"WRITINGS FROM THE PRISON" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
CHAPTER 4 - LORENZO AT LAST MAKES ME HIS OWN
"Just a moment..." he said. He stood up and went out of the infirmary. I heard his voice quietly speaking with somebody, and then he came back near my bed and smiled at me. "The nurse on duty is a friend of mine. He says that for about one hour we will be safe; nobody will disturb us." He embraced me again, while pulling away my bed-covers, and kissed me.
I pulled my underpants off and opened my legs as he lay between them, still clothed. My hands caressed his firm buttocks and slipped under his clothes in search for contact with his bare skin. Then I started opening his trousers, while he was raising his pelvis enough to allow me to do it. He continued kissing and caressing me. I pulled his trousers down and caressed his hard and quivering member, pulling it toward my palpitating hole.
"Wait..." he said and, kneeling between my spread thighs, he wet his cock with saliva.
Then he gently held me and prepared to penetrate me. His eyes were bright and more beautiful than ever. I felt him pushing at the right spot, opening me, starting to slip inside me. I welcomed it, shuddering and happy. At last my dream was coming true - I could finally feel Lorenzo inside me; he was making me his own. And I felt the difference - when I saw him taking Lino, he did it with some roughness. Now he was doing it with real tenderness. His big rod was wedging in me little by little, was taking ownership of me with gentleness and concern but with clear pleasure.
"Do you... like it?" he asked when he was halfway inside.
"Yes, go on..."
"I'm not hurting you?"
"No. Do you like it?"
"Yes... I too, you know, I too desired you for a long time."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know; possibly... out of respect."
"Respect? You knew I like it, didn't you?"
"You told me that. But you also said that just because one is gay, that doesn't mean he would like doing it with anybody and I thought you didn't like me. You never made it clear to me that you did."
Now he was totally inside me. I could feel it, big, strong, warm, and hard, slightly shivering inside me. For a while he didn't move. His eyes looked at me sweetly, almost as if trying to be sure I really felt alright. He caressed me. I thought I was in paradise, literally.
"Go on, Renzo!" I whispered, happily smiling to him.
He then started moving inside me, back and forth, in a slow but virile in and out, savoring the penetration.
"I like you, Alberto." he excitedly murmured.
"I like you too, Renzo." I answered, moving and caressing him.
We continued making love, in silence, looking at each other, kissing, caressing, while he was taking me with growing pleasure. I was watching his face, his growing enjoyment and, slowly I felt him growing inside me, until I felt his whole body shudder and understood that he was close to his climax. I moved in time with him and, at last, we savored an intense orgasm together. He then relaxed on me, panting, caressing and kissing me for a long time without saying a word.
Then, when his cock shrank and slipped out of me, he raised up a little on his elbows and said, with a light smile. "Did you enjoy it, Alberto?"
He never asked Lino such a question.
"Yes, a lot... and you?"
"As well..."
"Am I your boy, now?"
"Yes. It is the first time that I..."
"That you?"
"That I feel what I felt with you."
"That is?" I asked smiling, encouragingly.
"Pleasure in giving pleasure. Not even with my woman was it so. I don't know if you understand what I mean."
"Not really..." I said, as I wanted him to explain himself better.
"You... it seemed more important to me that it was you who enjoyed it, more than me. Normally I just worry about giving vent to my yen, but this time with you was different."
"But you enjoyed it, didn't you."
"Yes, sure, a lot. And that amazes me - the more I tried to make you happy, the more I was feeling happy. It's weird, isn't it?"
No, I thought - this means you love me. But I didn't tell him - he had to figure it out for himself. But I was happy.
"Possibly... possibly it is because I desired you for so long. Normally, I just take what I want, both outside with women and inside with the other boys," he thoughtfully said, while smiling me.
"I like your way of making love," I simply commented.
"Thank you," he answered, and I had the impression he blushed slightly.
I thought I adored him.
He left the bed and we tidied ourselves. He sat on the edge of the bed and his hand gently caressed mine. He was lost in God knows what thoughts and I didn't want to disturb him.
After a long silence, he asked, "You really want to be my boy, here, inside?"
"Yes. I'll look at nobody else, as long as I'm yours."
"Me neither, I promise." he answered, and this time he really blushed. Then he added, "But you'll be out before me."
"And when you'll be out, you'll go back to your woman, won't you?"
"Right," he admitted.
And then, a wonderful and satisfying time began for me.
Lorenzo was sweet with me, always caring, and very attentive to me during the day. At night he came to my bed. We were unconcerned about our two cell-mates knowing about us. We just put a blanket up, like a tent, while making love. I gradually learned which where those places on my sweet Lorenzo's body were that gave him the greatest pleasure - his nipples, cock, his neck and armpits... But he too was doing his utmost to increase my pleasure. It was a real idyll.
One night, without saying a word, he went down and sucked me - it was a real surprise to me and it was really good. That night we said nothing - we never talked while making love when our mates were in the cell.
But the day after, during the time in the yard, he asked me, "Why didn't you ever ask me?"
"What?"
"You know..." he said, almost with decency.
"I thought you wouldn't have liked it, and..."
"What matters... You know I want to make you happy, and..."
"You're making me happy."
"Really?"
"Sure. Can't you tell?"
"I feel so good with you. It's a shame that you'll leave in a few months. I mean, I'm glad for you, of course," he hastily corrected himself.
"I'll miss you."
"I will miss you too. I never thought I would say this to another man, you know? But you're special."
"You'll find another boy, won't you?"
"Bah, it will not be the same. Someone like Lino, perhaps. But there is only one Alberto."
This was the nearest love declaration he ever made. I could tell he loved me, but possibly he still wasn't aware. He couldn't admit it to himself, probably, because of his education, of his culture. He was a really "normal" straight man, sure that one cannot be in love with someone of his own sex. And I didn't want to disturb his opinions.
The day of my release was approaching. Lorenzo seemed to become, day after day, more passionate and sweet. The last night came - Lorenzo offered himself to me, in silence, shielded by our blanket curtain. He guided me inside him... and he had thought to bring lube to make it all easier. My tool is not very big, but I entered him with a great difficulty. I would have given up, but he wanted it. I understood it was a very special gift as a kind of farewell. I entered him and took the virginity he was sacrificing to me. I was terribly aroused and only afterwards realized he wasn't. I felt regret. As we couldn't talk that night, the day after I asked him why he did it, as he evidently didn't enjoy it.
"You're wrong. Even if I wasn't hard, that doesn't mean I didn't like it. One doesn't enjoy only with his body. I wanted you inside me, at least once. I have wanted it for a long time but didn't have the courage. I couldn't let you go without doing it at least once."
"Why did you want me inside you?" I then asked.
"'Cause it seemed fair. 'Cause there are things one cannot say with words. At least... I'm still not able."
"In an hour they'll come to free me."
"Will you write me?"
"Sure thing."
"Won't you forget me, once you're outside?"
"I don't think that's possible. And you?"
"Me neither. I'll miss you, I told you..."
"I too will miss you..."
"Outside... you'll find another boy." he said, with a tone that seemed me almost sad.
"Who knows... It's not said..."
"I still have fourteen months."
"Will we meet, outside?"
"Perhaps..." he murmured.
The wardens came to take me away, the director spoke to me and gave me the money I had earned working in the shop, and then I was back in my regular clothes and I left the prison.
I thought nobody would be waiting for me but the man's lawyer was there when I left. He gave me the bank deposit book and made me sign a receipt - there was a great deal of money. He asked me if I had a place to go. I said no.
He gave me the card for a guesthouse, "My client paid a month's rent for you, so that you will have time to settle in. What do you think you will do, now?"
"I still don't know. Find a job, an apartment."
"With all that money, you could also set up a business on your own," the lawyer said.
"What do you mean? I'm good for nothing."
"But you are young, you can find a good occupation for yourself, I think."
"Why so much concern." I asked.
"Because my client feels grateful to you - you rescued his son and honored the pact. You now have a record because of that."
"Well... I hope that at least the boy won't make any more serious mistakes, because it's not likely that his father will find somebody else ready to take his place in prison, right? I, at least, have had enough of it."
"Certainly, I understand. Well, I have other business to care of now. I have to leave. Best wishes young man."
When he left, I went downtown. I stopped at a bar and, sitting at one of the small tables, I asked for a coffee. How good it was! Nothing like that inside. I looked again at balance in the bank-book - yes it was really a lot of money. I looked for the address of the guesthouse in the phone book. It was close to the Central Station. I decided to go there at once. They were waiting for me. They showed me my room - small but nice, clean, agreeable, with a shower attached. I took a long shower. The banks were already closed, but I had the money I earned working inside, in my pocket. I went out, savoring the freedom to walk about at my ease. I never had thought before that the town was so beautiful.
I bought some new clothes for a change but tried not to spend too much. I wanted my money to work for me in one way or another. That evening I went to a gay bar I had frequented before I was in prison. I saw only a couple of the old patrons. They greeted me with joy and asked were I had disappeared to. I answered that I had gone to work in a small factory out of town, but that I was back now and was looking around for something to do. I didn't really expect too much from the encounter; I just needed to talk to somebody. They introduced me to a couple of their friends. One was a boy around twenty-six years old named Domenico. He seemed very nice and I felt slightly attracted to him but, as he already had a lover, and as I still felt tied to Renzo, I didn't make any moves on him.
We met again some two evenings later. Meanwhile I tried to figure out what I could do for a living. The record hindered my search for a job. The lawyer told me I could start a business of my own, but what could I do? I wasn't able to do very many things... A stand in the open air market, perhaps? But to do that one has to be able to evaluate goods, to bargain... one cannot start from scratch. I had plenty of money now, but if I made a wrong move I would lose it all and then I would have lost the opportunity to start over. Therefore, I had to be absolutely sure to do everything carefully.
It was Domenico who gave me the idea - he told me that the newspaper kiosk near the Opera Theatre was for sale. It belonged to one of his relatives who, because of health and age problems, wanted to retire. He was looking for a buyer, not a storekeeper, and it was, apparently, difficult to find a buyer.
I asked him how much he was asking for it. I thought that working as a newsagent couldn't be too difficult. And, if his relative would work with me for a couple of months, he could teach me the tricks of the trade...
Domenico took care of the matter and set up a meeting with his relative. Finally, around the end of the month, we signed a contract. So, I paid another month's rent at the guesthouse where I felt comfortable.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 5
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