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 6 - WITH PAOLO, WAITING FOR LORENZO
"Have you been with very many guys before now?"
"Well, quite a few. My first time, I was fourteen. That was four years ago. I fell in love with my PE teacher. When he was taking a shower, I always spied on him and wanked. Once, two school mates caught me and forced me to be fucked - that was my first time. While they were deflowering me I felt pain but, closing my eyes, I imagined it was my teacher fucking me and I liked it. Discovering I liked it I wanted to do it a lot more. So, I did it again with those two, and then with one of their friends, an older boy. That one, after he fucked me a few times, introduced me to a man who in turn introduced me to a group of his acquaintances. He invited me to his place and introduced me a man. We talked a while and then he took me to the bedroom and he screwed me. It was quite agreeable. But then I discovered that the first guy was making the men pay him to let them screw me. I was furious and decided not to see him any more. I was then sixteen. At the guy's house, I had seen some gay magazines and noticed that in them there were ads for encounters, so I bought one and started sending letters. Yes, I've had quite a few men. But nobody fucked me as good as you did. You made me feel important; not just an object for your pleasure."
"Have you ever fucked a guy?"
"Yes, two or three times. But I like being fucked better than to fuck."
"I... at first I was strictly a bottom. You are the third man I've fucked. I've decided I like both ways and you have a nice cock. I'd like you to fuck me, you know?" I told him.
He smiled, "If you like it, I can at times do it, but I prefer that you fuck me. You might think I'm a little selfish. Do you know you have a really great body?"
"You too."
"I'm still a boy, you're already a man, though a young one. I'd like giving you another blow-job."
"Didn't you say it's time to go home?" I asked him with a smile, amused by his never ending lust.
"Yeah, unhappily."
"We'll have other occasions," I told him.
He kissed me. Then we got off bed and got dressed.
Before leaving, he gave me another long kiss and, at the door, whispered, "See you tomorrow." and ran away, light as an elf.
I heard his footsteps go down the stairs and closed the door. I liked Paolo. He was simple, clean, and passionate. We started to meet often, two or three times each week. He waited for me at the kiosk at closing time, went upstairs with me, we made love, then ran away in a hurry. We came to gradually know each other better. His passion overwhelmed me. A few times, he fucked me and I enjoyed that also. He was hot-blooded and sweet, both at once. And he gave himself to me with enthusiasm.
School ended and he came to work with me. It was delightful being with him. At times I had to restrain his desire to make love - in the kiosk he caressed me between my legs and once he crouched down a sucked me until I came.
When he stood up, he said with a satisfied expression, "You taste good. I should do it more often."
"No! You've been crazy, somebody could come and see."
"But nobody came, right? And then, from outside they couldn't see anything, I checked it out before..." he answered with a mischievous smile.
Paolo really turned me on. He was sensual - the way he looked at me, brushed up against me, talked with me, everything made me feel how much he enjoyed making love with me. None the less he did nothing more in the kiosk, as I forbade it.
When I saw he knew enough about the job, we started taking shifts. I did mornings and he the afternoons. When he closed up, he brought me the receipts and then we made love, now every single night. Business at the kiosk was flourishing. Gay clients increased and, at times, both Paolo and I received proposals, but we always refused - we were enough for each other.
I was still corresponding with Lorenzo. I told Paolo I had been in prison and that I met Lorenzo there and that I was in love with him. Paolo didn't seem to get upset. Lorenzo wrote me about Diego, but continued to write that he preferred me. I wrote to him about Paolo and told him that he wasn't my lover. While I liked him, in my heart there always was only him, Lorenzo.
Neither one of us ever wrote we loved each other, but we could read it between the lines. We now wrote about twice a week. I always signed my letters just with an A. and Lorenzo once wrote that his mates believed they were letters from a woman. Then the day when Lorenzo was to be released, was finally approaching. I said to Paolo, with some concern, that possibly our situation was coming to an end.
He smiled, "Yes, I know. But if... if by chance... I'll wait for you."
"Are... are you by chance in love with me?" I asked, somewhat worried, thinking I had been reckless by giving him so much room in our relationship.
"No, I know you're waiting for your Lorenzo. It's alright. It has been really beautiful up to now."
The day Lorenzo came out of prison, Paolo worked all day to let me be free. I went to wait for Lorenzo outside the jail - I knew how bad it was to come out and have nobody waiting for you. I didn't tell him I would be waiting for him - I just told to call me when he got out as I wanted to see him.
When he came out of the gate, he saw me at once. He had a small smile and came towards me, "Alberto! I knew you'd be here."
"Would you have been disappointed if I wasn't here?"
"Possibly... But you're here..."
"How are you?"
"Fine, now."
"What are you going to do? Where do you want to go?"
"To my flat. A friend of mine kept it all these years, subletting it, but now it's free again."
"Do you have any idea about a job?"
"Yes and no. My friends would like me to get back in the racket, but... I don't know. The director gave me the address of an agency that helps ex-cons. I haven't decided anything yet. I want to enjoy a few days of complete freedom."
"I know I've no right telling you, but don't go back in the racket, please." I said, looking in his eyes.
"Would you offer me lunch? At a good restaurant?" he said, without answering me.
"Yes, sure. Let's go."
At the restaurant, he was looking at me... looking at me... but we were just talking of this and that. I had the feeling he wanted to tell me something, and I wanted to tell him a lot of things too - first of all, that I was in love with him. But I wanted him to take the first step.
"I thought a lot about you, every single day." he said at one point, looking at me with a light smile.
"I did too."
"I know, and that helped me. After my woman left me, thought a lot about ..."
"...."
"Before, I had had only women, you know that."
"Yes, I know."
"I'm asking myself... if I changed."
"What do you mean?"
"You... you more than the others, you changed me, possibly."
"I don't think one can change so easily. Inside, you didn't have women, and thus... Now, you might find the right girl, don't you think?" I said, my heart in my throat.
"Perhaps... If I looked for one. You... are you happy?"
"Happy? In what sense? I'm fine, I've a job."
"And you have that boy helping you at the kiosk, right?"
"Paolo? He's a nice boy, a friend, also."
"And... nothing more?"
"No, nothing more. I like him, he likes me. We have sex. But he's just a friend."
"To me, Diego, the other boys, were just an outlet. Not you, no, not you. With you it was different."
"Different how?" I asked and felt my heart drumming violently in my chest.
"You were also a friend and... I missed you a lot."
"Here I am, now."
"Right. Honestly, Alberto..." he started to say, in a rush, but then stopped and became silent.
"What did you want to tell me?" I encouraged him.
"Nothing. It feels weird, being free again."
"You'll get used to it fast, you'll see." I said with a smile.
"Yes, I think so. But something remains, here inside, doesn't it?"
"Sure, but it belongs to the past."
"Such experiences mark a man."
"They do."
"If I hadn't gotten to know you, possibly..."
"What?"
"I feel confused, see?"
"About what?"
"You and I... free... you've got your life, I'll start mine again. Inside, we were in the same cell, in a limited space. It would never be the same."
"No, not the same, but... better?"
"Better?"
"Yes, better. Doesn't it depend only on us?"
"On us, yes."
"On what we want..."
"You... what do you want?"
"To feel good." I answered dodging his question that I well understood.
"Everybody would like to feel good. And have a goal in life, right? An important goal."
"Which is?"
"Living for somebody."
"Somebody?"
"Somebody loving you, who lets you love him."
I was moved - were we getting to the point? Now he kept his eyes focused on his hands on the table, his fingers tightly intertwined. I felt the desire to caress them, but I didn't dare make even such a small move, and not just because there were people who could see us.
"You never talked about love, not even when you were talking about your woman." I said.
"Yeah. It seems that men, we males I mean, are able to talk without shame about sex, but we are totally ashamed to talk about love. I think I understood that, inside."
"Possibly, more than talking about love, it's important to feel it inside oneself, isn't it? Showing it more with facts than with words... possibly."
"And yet, it's important also to say it, at times."
"Yes, at times."
"It's just that, when one is not used to it, it's not easy to change and... at times just thinking of it makes you feel uncertain and weird. To say it, then... or just to write it..." he thoughtfully said then, almost shaking himself, with a forcedly merry tone, he said, "Let's go, now. Thank you for the lunch and to have come to wait for me. I now think I'll go to take back my flat and... When can we meet again?"
"Anytime you want. I generally work at the kiosk in the mornings, but the afternoons and evenings I'm rather free. I'll give you my telephone number," I said, writing it on a paper napkin.
"Yes, I'll show up soon."
"I'm glad I saw you again."
"Me too, a lot. Is it OK if I call you tomorrow afternoon?"
"Sure, I'll count on it. Do you have a phone?"
"No. I'll call you, for sure."
"Well, Lorenzo. Tomorrow afternoon, then."
"Yes. Have a good day and thank you."
"To you too. I'm glad we could meet again and talk. I'm really very glad."
"I too am. Ciao, then, see you soon."
"Soon, yes."
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 7
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