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 5 - MY KIOSK AND MY STORY WITH PAOLO
I started to run the business at the kiosk. It was tiring but the work itself was not difficult. I had to open it at 7 AM and close at 9 PM - fourteen hours a day. The orders were done by phone or mail, on special forms pre-set by the distributors. I learned how to do returns, the way to display newspapers and magazines, and how to deal with pilferers trying to steal magazines... Surely, the old owner told me, having two working the kiosk was better. He had been helped by his wife. It was because she fell ill that he decided to sell. I told him that, at last in the beginning, I would have to work alone. Later, possibly, I would look for help. An employee would cost me more than a relative, the man said. But of course, I didn't have a relative to count on.
It really was tiring because there were no days off. For the first two months I was helped by the previous owner, but when he stopped coming, everything rested only on my shoulders, and I felt all of its weight. Meanwhile, I found a small attic flat, a stone's throw from the kiosk.
I wrote to Lorenzo several times. When I received his first answer, I was happy. He told me he was thinking of me and that he really missed me. I missed him too. And not just physically. I made love with Domenico a couple of times, but it was clear it was just for fun and had no future - he was in love with his lover.
Domenico suggested that I expand the gay magazine section, and to sell them to the clients in a discrete way, putting them in plain brown envelops. Little by little I started having a fair number of steady gay clients. They were from sixteen-year-old boys, to whom I wasn't supposed to sell the magazines. But, I didn't ask them for ID; I only asked if they were of age. I also sold to many older men, from blue collar workers to distinguished professionals. I also liked some of them. But they never stopped for a chat. Even those who came to buy the gay magazines without apparent embarrassment just bought them, paid, and went away at once. A few exceptions were my acquaintances from the gay bar even though I rarely went there because I was too tired after getting off work.
Lorenzo wrote me a very sad letter, telling me that his woman had left him for another man and had written telling him to not show up once he was freed. "I've no one waiting for me, outside, now." he wrote. I answered that I really was sorry about his situation, but that one person at least was still waiting for him: Me.
He answered almost immediately, which was not his usual style. In a short letter he thanked me, and said he was glad he could count at least on our friendship.
He wrote again telling me that he had a new boy now who had just been incarcerated, "... he is handsome, but I cannot help comparing him with you. Diego is not gay, and even if he lets me take him, I know it's just to be protected from the others. He isn't able to give me what you gave me - only now do I understand it. I now know how much more wonderful it could be. He just gives me his body; it is just to satisfy my needs. I miss your sweetness, your affection, your smile." Then he asked me if I had a "friend".
I answered him I didn't - just a few adventures but nothing serious. And, for the first time, I wrote telling him I missed making love with him. "With you it was different, I really felt OK because I could tell that for you, also, it wasn't a purely physical thing. I thought I was important to you, almost as much as you were for me."
He answered asking me why I wrote "almost". So then I decided to reveal what I really felt for him. "... because I am in love with you. I know you are straight and you cannot love someone of your same sex, that you were with me only because inside there were no alternatives. It was not possible for you to be with your woman so I was just a temporary substitute. For me, it was very different. This is why I wrote that 'almost'. Anyway, you gave me a lot, and I'm grateful for that, and I'll never forget it..."
This time his answer was late and I was afraid that, having fully revealed my feelings to him, he felt troubled or annoyed. After about twenty days, his letter came.
"Dear Alberto, your letter surprised me, but then reading it again and thinking back of us, I told myself I was really blind not to have understood immediately what you were feeling for me. You write me that, as I am straight, I cannot love a male. That might be true, but what I felt for you was something special that I am now missing. You were so very important to me. I assure you, even if I don't know if it was the same as what you were feeling for me, I for sure had strong feelings for you. Now, when I go with Diego, I only care about giving vent to my urges. With you it was different; I beg you to believe me. I just liked looking at you, and when we put the blanket as a curtain, I was happy just being near you, touching you, being looked by you, being touched. All the rest disappeared behind that curtain; there was only you and me and it was great. Thanks to you I even felt like I wasn't inside. I don't know if you can understand this. Diego is just longing for everything to be over, even though he lets me do anything I want. And I don't care for him; to me it's enough to get my rocks off. With you, I would have loved it to never end."
Couldn't he find the courage to tell me that he loved me too? Or perhaps, it was not love that he felt for me. At times we are so complex that we are not even able to understand ourselves.
I had the kiosk for about six months, when I met Paolo. He often came to buy gay magazines. One day he asked me if I still had the last issue of "Gay Italia."
"No, I sold all my copies," I answered.
"What a pity."
"If you want I can order it for you."
"I would be pleased, sir."
"I notice you always buy it. Do you want me to keep a copy for you each time it comes out?"
"It would really be kind of you, sir, thank you. My name is Paolo."
"How do you do, Paolo. I'm Alberto. But let's not be so formal; we are more or less the same age."
"Well... I'm eighteen..."
"I thought you were a little older. I'm almost twenty-four. Anyway we are not so far apart, are we? Are you a student?"
"I'm close to graduating from the Fine Arts High School."
"And what would you like to do, after? University?"
"No, I'd like to find a job, but in these times... I fear I'll end up unemployed. I really don't want to live off my parents."
"Do you live with your family? Do you have brothers?"
"Yes, four and I'm the second."
"Do you live far from here?"
"Somewhat. Near the new jail."
I was going to tell him that we were almost neighbors, but I just nodded. I liked him. But after a little chit chat, he said good bye and went away.
The following week he came again and I gave him the old issue, together with the new one in an envelop on which I wrote his name.
"Thank you. So you remembered me."
"Sure. Did you doubt it?" I asked him with a smile.
"No, but... who knows how many people come here to your kiosk. I'm just one amongst many."
"Well, no, you aren't just one amongst many. As little as it is, I know your name is Paolo, you are eighteen, near to graduation and in search for a job."
"Yes, without finding one."
"Would you like to come to work here at my kiosk? I need some help and... it's not a great job, I know, but... at least until you find something better, after you graduate..."
"Would you really let me work with you?" Paolo asked, brightening and smiling.
"Yes, for me it's really tough being here alone all day long. You could take turns with me and we could keep the kiosk open longer, working eight hours each."
"So then I would not work with you, but for you."
"Are you interested?"
"Yes, I am, thank you."
"At first, we will work together until you are able to do the job alone... And also when we change shifts, we will be together for a while."
"Good, so we can also have a chat, right?" he said, again with a bright smile.
I wanted to tell him that I liked him, that I too am gay, and that I would like to know him better... but I didn't know where to start without making him think I was offering him a job in exchange for a fuck with him.
He asked, "Do you have a girlfriend, Alberto?"
"What? No..."
"And yet you're a handsome boy... and likeable."
"I'm not interested in girls... I am... I'm like you."
"You're gay, you mean?" Paolo asked, smiling.
"Yes, right."
"Ah, good." he simply said. For a while we stood silently, then he asked, "And... am I your type? Because you're mine."
He said it with simplicity, without hesitation, quietly, waiting for my answer. He looked at me with his clear, serene eyes.
"Yes, I like you. But that's not why I offered you the job. I mean, not to take you in my bed. But just because I like you and feel I can trust you."
"Thank you. But I'd like it better if ours was not only a working relationship. Unless... do you already have a boyfriend?"
"Not really. And you?"
"No, I'm free. What do you mean with that 'not really'?"
"There is a man I like a lot and I can possibly meet again in a few months. But I don't know if he will stay with me as I hope. Rather, I'm afraid it will be more a no than a yes."
"Are you in love with him?"
"I am."
"And he?"
"He's straight, even though we have a history... and now his woman left him..."
"If there has been history between you, he must be bisexual more than straight, anyway. But was he in love with you?"
"I don't know, possibly yes. But I think that he doesn't really know how he feels. I really don't know. At times one can confuse desire with reality."
"I understand you. So then, you're now waiting for him."
"Right, to understand if... my desires are just delusions or not."
"Anyway, even without becoming lovers, I'd like making love with you, if you too want it."
"I like you, Paolo, a lot. It's not easy to answer you with a no."
"If I come at closing time, will you take me at your place? Do you live alone?"
"Yes. You'll really come?"
"Sure. So, then, see you later." he said merrily and with nod, he left.
I liked him a lot. I waited for closing time with some eagerness. I saw him coming a few minutes before closing time. He greeted me and smiled. I closed up and then we went to my place. He brought a cake. We ate some, drank, and chatted.
Then he said, "Can we go and sit on your bed?"
"Yes."
We left the table, took off our shoes and sat on the bed. I embraced him and he offered me his lips. I kissed him, we kissed each other. He was sweet. He shivered and sighed, then pressed against me and slipped his hands under my shirt to caress my back. We gradually undressed each other. His body was beautiful and his cock stood out, quivering under my caresses. Once naked, he pushed me on my back and leaned over me to lick and kiss me all over my body. He was good at it. After a while we were on our sides, embraced in a wonderful sixty-nine. One of my fingers crept between his solid, small buttocks and lingered at his soft anus.
He strongly shuddered and whispered with a hot voice, "Do you want me?"
"Yes, I want you."
"Take me, then." he said turning and offering himself, and added, "But use some cream."
I fetched it and prepared him. Then I penetrated him.
"Ohhh, Alberto, that's good... ohhh, I really needed it..."
"You like?"
"Yes. And you?"
"Yes, sure."
He was the third man I penetrated in my life, the first being Sergio, then Lorenzo during that last night we spent together. Paolo pushed against me each time I sank into him, to better feel my rod inside him. My hands slipped under him to roam over his chest, his belly, his turgid and quivering genitals and he moaned happily. He turned his head toward me and I understood he wanted to be kissed. Our mouths met, while I was continuing to pump into him with increasing pleasure. He too was enjoying it and was all a quiver. When he felt me unloading my seed in him, he too came, using his tank-top to catch it so as to not wet my bed.
When we separated, he turned to face me, smiling, embraced me tightly and murmured, "Gosh, how good! I liked it to die for, Alberto."
"Yes, me too."
We gently kissed again, he was caressing my body and his light and wise fingers gradually aroused me again. He too was excited and when he offered himself once more, I wasn't able to refuse.
This time he lay on his back, put his legs on my shoulders and with a sweet smile said, "Fuck me this way, I want to look at your face while you fuck me."
I smiled back and fucked him again. His beautiful face seemed to shine while I was penetrating in him and this aroused me even more. I fucked him with vigor and felt his member brushing against my belly each time I pushed in him.
"You're beautiful, Alberto." he murmured.
"You are too, Paolo. I like you."
"I can feel it. I'm happy I met you."
"Me too."
"Until he comes back, until you can understand if... will you keep me with you? Will you make love to me?"
"Willingly."
While I was fucking him, his face was bright and I saw he was intensely enjoying it, and I liked that. He caressed my chest, my sides, my back. As I had just come, this time my penetration lasted longer and his blissful expression was increasing little by little. When I finally felt my orgasm approaching again I leaned over him to kiss him and he answered with a deep, passionate kiss, while holding me against him and caressing my spine. Shuddering with pleasure, I unloaded in him with long spurts, moaning. I felt him come between our bellies.
Panting, still embedded in him, I let my body go limp on him and he too stretched his legs and relaxed. I squeezed him in my arms and legs, giving him light pecks on the face.
He, with laughing eyes, asked: "Did you enjoy it?"
"A lot."
"Me too. I would like staying like this until tomorrow. But I've to go back home, unfortunately. Nobody ever fucked me so well. I really like feeling you inside me. It's way too good. I never enjoyed it so much."
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 6
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