My Father the Czar
Copyright 1998
Library of Congress number: 98-96138
by AUTHOR22@aol.com
All rights reserved
Chapter Thirteen
+ + + + + +
The Odessa Army Base Commander was a man in his late forties with a
wife and two children. His wife Rosa was nothing unusual however, she
had all of the requisite abilities for a military officer's wife. She
was politically aware. She had good manners. She was a decent cook.
Her political expertise was restricted to the military world. Without
her putting in the right word with the right wife, it is unlikely that
her husband would have become a military leader.
The children had grown up on many different army posts throughout
Russia. Their tour of duty seldom was longer than three years.
For most of their young lives the children had slept in the same bed.
The cold winters encouraged their cuddling together; usually, the boy
around his sisters back.
When the boy was nine something unusual had happened, but the unusual
had evolved from a normal, everyday occurrence. In the mornings he
always awoke with an erection which went away as soon as he had
urinated. His sister was used to his little erection prodding in the
back of her night shirt. But on this particular morning both of their
night shirts had ridden up and his petooshock was resting between the
cheeks of her buttocks. The warmth felt good to both of them, or at
least would have had they been awake enough to be conscious of the
contact. The natural male lubricant flowed gently from the tip of his
organ, encouraging its inward movement.
It was the girl who first became aware of what was happening as the
head of the boys penis rested firmly against the ring of her anus. She
enjoyed the feeling and, had she been asked why, she would not have
been able to say why she had moved her bottom back toward her brother;
but, she did and the slippery probe moved easily past the relaxed
muscle ring. The boy, now almost awake, followed his natural instincts
and moved his chlen in and out of his sister's hole. Eventually he
felt the first surges of a dry ejaculation, then his little member
shrunk and fell out of the receptacle.
Neither of the children talked about it, but the exercise became a
daily routine.
Two years later, at the age of fourteen, the boy experienced his first
real ejaculation and, from then until now, the boy had become the
aggressor. Shortly after that he had met a young soldier who was just
sixteen. The soldier had been raised in a family of boys and was not
unfamiliar with what boys did when there were no females around. The
two boys, the commander's son Sergy and the soldier Ivan, soon became
close friends.
The girl, Selly, now thirteen, became jealous of the closeness of her
brother and his new buddy. Thus, her early morning exercises with her
brother became more purposeful.
The two friends had organized a camping trip to a nearby river where
they intended to fish. It was while they were packing their bed rolls
that Selly asked if she could come along. Her brother was adamant in
his refusal: "a girl, and especially his sister, on a camping trip
with his best friend? ...No way." But Ivan interceded on her behalf
so, reluctantly, Sergy gave in and the three youngsters spent Saturday
night camped out alongside the river. It was that night that Selly
discovered the pleasures of having turned over.
Sergy became excited as he watched the soldier fuck his sister. Ivan
had turned so that they were on their sides with her bottom toward her
brother; thus, Sergy did that night what he had done every morning for
the past three years.
+ + + + + +
Turkey's alignment with Germany had closed the Dardanelles to Russia,
Britain and France thus physically separating Russia from her western
allies. Rather quickly the Czar found himself almost completely cut
off from the countries with whom he had become aligned.
The Standart had narrowly escaped the effects of the early stages of
that pact of aggression. Even though the Imperial Family had witnessed
first hand the attempted boarding, they had no concept of what might
have happened to them had the Yaroslav not arrived when it did.
Britian and France were now under a strain. Over the preceding decade
they had become dependent upon the grain fields of the Ukraine. In
Britain Winston Churchill, the First Lord of the Admiralty, urged
immediate seizure of the Dardanelles to restore the vital
Mediterranean - Black Sea supply route to Russia.
Germany's response to the Russian troop movement was to send troops
into Austria. The Russian soldiers that had been transported on the
Imperial Train had been sent west to join the ones from Odessa. The
Czar wanted to leave his military forces on the Turkish border as a
reminder that Turkey had made a foolish move.
The Czar was dockside when the Standart arrived in Yalta. The family
immediately left the yacht. They had decided to spend a few days at
the Imperial summer residence in Belovezhe.
Alex-T's father had been deprived of his son's company since February
and now June had already merged into July. He was overjoyed to be
reunited with his entire family but, it was to the Tsarevich that he
devoted his time, or at least that is what he thought.
In reality, Alex-P and the Tsarevich frequently switched roles. It was
surprising that the Czar did not detect the exchange. In comparing the
two boys, Alex-P was more like the image the Czar had for his son.
When the doppelganger assumed that role, the two had more fun
together. On one such occasion, the Czar had been playing catch. He
threw the ball several feet over the head of Alex. Instinctively the
boy jumped into the air and caught the missile. Seeing his son in this
more athletic role brought great joy to the monarch.
The family had been in residence for nearly a week before the Czar
received a message from the commander of his Odessa forces, which were
still camped along the northern Turkish border. The troops were
getting bored with the lack of activity and wanted to return to
Odessa. Nicholas thought about this for only a short time before
deciding that this was an ideal opportunity for him to share the
responsibilities of military leadership with his son. The two could
get away from the rest of the family. It would be a little like a
summer vacation.
The Turks had completely ignored the Russian army's presence. The Czar
taking command would show just how serious the matter was. Nicholas
had mentioned, in passing, the idea at dinner one evening. Alex-T as
the Tsarevich showed little interest. His father chalked that up to
having had a hard day. The boy was just tired. To some extent the Czar
was correct. The next morning Alex-T had wanted to sleep late, so
Alex-P joined the family for breakfast as the Tsarevich.
"Aleksey, I have great news. You and I will leave immediately once we
have finished breakfast. Everything has been packed and loaded onto a
truck. We will take a car as far as Odessa, there we will join a
convoy and travel on to the border."
Alex-P was overjoyed. "Wow!" But, he worried whether or not he could
maintain the charade for an extended period of time --an extended
period of time in the intimate company of the real Tsarevich's father.
The long period of separation played favorably into the hands of Alex-
P; any unusual behavior was discounted as a normal part of the process
of passing through adolescence.
When they arrived at Odessa they were met by the camp commander who
was to personally head the convoy. Alex immediately detected a
difference in the way they were treated. The sailors on the Standart
treated them with respect but not as though they were gods. The army
soldiers could not get used to the presence of the Czar and his young
son. Everywhere they went they were stared at. If the enlisted men
were approached by Nicholas or Alex they would always stand rigidly at
attention. The younger men were obviously quite envious of Alex. Some
of them were not much older than he was.
Within hours of their arrival at Odessa, messengers began bringing
radiograms and telegrams from all over the world. Foreign affairs,
which had never been the Czar's strong suit were becoming overly
complex, needing decisions that only he could make.
The daily communique from the Okhrana kept him informed of the unrest
that was being fomented by the Germans. It was not just in Russia.
Common people in Serbia and Poland were demonstrating their
displeasure with the lack of food and work, while also wanting a
better way of life. Even though Austria seemed to be the source of
much of the rebellion, the Okhrana was adamant in its estimate that
Austria was a puppet of the Kaiser.
The camp commander, seeing that the Tsarevich was often left alone
with no boys of his own age with whom to play, introduced his son and
daughter. Unlike the soldiers, the two children were not in awe of the
future Czar of all of the Russias. Soon they began spending many hours
together. The son was now fifteen, his sister fourteen.
+ + + + + +
The Village of Pokrovskoe
Western Siberia
+ + + + + +
Gregory Rasputin had returned to his native village. For the past six
months he had had too much time on his hands. The Czarina and Alexsey
had occupied his thoughts prior to their departure in February. He had
attempted to assist the Czar in matters of state; but the Monarch,
while politely listening to Rasputin's suggestions implemented few, if
any, of the Holyman's ideas. Rasputin spent many hours bending the
ears of members of the Duma, but again, few of his suggestions were
taken seriously. To make matters worse, those politicians with whom he
spoke were quite rude.
There was now always a plain-clothed policeman stationed at his door.
He was certain they were not just regular police. He suspected they
were Okrahana. His social life had become a bit too much the same and
boring. There was only so much one could drink and far too few women
around whom he had not already seduced. The weather had turned warm so
he decided that now was a good time to visit his home village.
He took the train all the way to Perm and there visited the old woman
who had first helped him with the transformation of Alex-P. He had
hoped to encounter a gypsy troop or two along the way, but was
disappointed; they all seemed to have moved south for the oncoming
summer.
It was while he was in Pokrovskoe that he heard the report of the
assassination of the Austrian Grand Duke. Instinctively he knew that
there was trouble ahead. There were no news reports of the attempted
kidnapping of the Imperial Family, but Rasputin knew that they were in
trouble... desperate trouble.
He wired the Czar, cautioning him to be careful in matters of foreign
affairs. The wire was handed to the Czar just as his brother Mikhail
entered his office. Two hours earlier, he had been visited by his next
younger brother, George. Now, with Mikhail's arrival, the telegram,
though quickly scanned first, was none-the-less laid aside and
eventually forgotten.
George's visit should have been predictable. He was next in line to
the throne and had always coveted the seat of power.
Mikhail had been something of an amateur soldier and often dreamed of
leading an army into battle; so the brewing trouble with Turkey looked
like an ideal opportunity for him to "take Command" and thus make his
mark in the world. He was both forceful and demanding in his offer to
lead the "battle" against the Turks. Nicholas repeatedly reminded him
that they were not at war. The Russian presence on Turkey's northern
border was only a "reminder" that Russia could wipe out the Moslem
nation should they choose to do so. The discussion was a heated one,
yet both men knew that the Czar's decision would be final.
Without warning, the door to the room opened and Alex-P as the
Tsarevich, appropriately dressed in an Army officer's uniform,
entered. "Papa, the Colonel asked me to tell you that we are ready to
leave as soon as you wish."
Alex-P had never seen Mikhail and thus did not greet him. Alex-T would
have! Alex-P sensed that something was expected of him. Quickly he
added, "Did I interrupt something?"
"Aleksey, have you nothing to say to your uncle?"
It was then that Alex realized what was expected; but the question
was: which Uncle was this one?... George or Mikhail? "Of course, sir.
I apologize, but I could overhear your conversation from the other
room and I didn't think it wise to interrupt, other than to deliver
the message from the Colonel."
The Czar saved the day by addressing his visitor by name, "Mikhail, I
am sorry to end this visit on a harsh note, but we must leave as soon
as possible if we are to stay on schedule. As to the matter of which
we have been speaking, the timing now is not right; but, I am afraid
that we will have needs of your talents all too soon."
Mikhail came to attention, gave his brother a stiff military salute
and said: "As you see fit" He then sharply turned and left the room.
Nicholas got up from his chair and commented: "Aleksey, we must go.
Your uncle can be over bearing at times." He then took his son's hand
and they left the temporary office.
Alex was looking for someone as they entered their car. "Papa, I
thought Sergy was coming too."
"Yes, the Colonel asked if it would be all right. His boy has been
attending Junior Soldier meetings. We will sort that out when we reach
our overnight stop."
+ + + + + +
Bivouacking
According to Alex-P
+ + + + + +
Our convoy traveled parallel to the coast, but inland a few miles. The
terrain through Romania was mostly flat farm land. As we crossed the
border into Bulgaria you could see mountains in the distance. By the
time we reached the city of Burgas, it became apparent that our
confrontation with the Turks was to be a mountainous adventure. Of
course, having been raised in the Ural Mountains, I found the prospect
most welcome. Ivan and Sergy were not looking forward to the colder
climate; yet, in mid July, the change in temperature was most
appealing.
For some reason that I cannot explain, I had expected the
confrontation at the Turkish border to be between two armed camps
meeting face to face on an open plain. I was wrong! The Bulgarian-
Turkish border runs high in the Strandzha Mountains, about ten miles
beyond the first Bulgarian foothills. The mountains extended another
twenty miles into Turkey before flattening out. Even though it was
mid-July, some of the mountain peaks were capped with snow and the
higher we climbed, the colder it became.
Sergy and Ivan had joined together as a team. Not a military
team, ...so maybe the word 'camaraderie' would be more appropriate. I
gathered that the soldier's friendship with the commander's son,
combined with the less disciplined movement by motor vehicle, had
allowed them to travel together.
At first, the Czar had insisted that I be by his side almost all of
our waking hours; but, even on the road there was a constant flow of
communications that soon encroached upon our time together. Eventually
I found myself spending more time with Sergy and Ivan. Unlike the
other soldiers, Ivan did not appear to be overpowered by my presence.
The closeness of the two boys became more and more obvious. I wondered
how they avoided being teased by the older men. The paved road gave
way to hardened earth as we began our assent. The vegetation also
slowly eroded away, then began to be replaced with several varieties
of pine trees. The truck engines were deafening as they labored
against the now steep and winding path. We passed a lone sentry. As he
saw us approach, he squared away his cap and came to attention. He
obviously had not been warned of our coming because, when he saw the
face of the Czar, he turned quite red and became stiffer than an
icicle.
We turned a bend in the road and then the slope increased. You could
hear the straining and grinding as each of the larger vehicles shifted
into their lowest gear. The lead truck came to a halt. Commanding
voices ordered the men first to get out of the vehicles and then to
push the trucks up the short, steep incline. Our vehicle was not as
overloaded, so we did not have to disembark. Ahead of us, we could see
Sergy and Ivan adding their small weight to the task of pushing. Once
we had passed this short but sttep rise the road became less stressful
and the men were again able to board the vehicles. The commander said
that we should be at the border camp within a few minutes.
The forest gave way to an open plain. We were now on a plateau. In the
distance were more trees, but this in-between area was a flat meadow.
Hundreds of tents had been erected. The first ones we came to were of
the finest quality. It appeared that the officer in charge had set up
camp with the officers at the rear, the least senior of personnel were
the closest to the border. The base commander was the first to alight
from his vehicle. He was discussing something with the officer in
charge of the troops. The commander was pointing at the officers'
tents and I could overhear parts of their conversation.
The base commander felt the present layout of the tents was dangerous.
The officers' tents should be with those of the troops they commanded.
We disembarked and walked toward the border. A stone wall had been
erected which extended from each side of the road to the forest. A few
feet beyond this wall, and in the center of the road, lay a pile of
stones, perhaps three feet high. Atop this pile of rock rose a sign
written in Arabic, which warned: "This is the Turkish Border. This
road is closed. Trespassers will be shot on sight."
Beyond the border there was only the open road and more forest.
When we reached the boundary, the base commander and the officer in
charge of the troops joined us. "Your Imperial Highness, should we
remove those stones and proceed?"
The Czar turned toward the young officer and replied: "No, we do not
wish to invade Turkey. We are here just to remind them that we have no
qualms about doing so, if necessary. I presume those rocks that are
blocking the road are in Turkish territory?" Then, as an after
thought, he asked: "Is the wall in Bulgaria or Turkey?" The base
commander spoke next: "I am certain that it is in Bulgaria. If it were
in Turkey they would have put the stones in the road next to the
wall." Papa then directed them to remove the wall to the right of the
road for about 25 feet. This would not be an aggressive move, yet
would give us easy access should we decide to cross into Turkey. An
officer directed a dozen men to proceed with the removal.
From a distance, I saw a figure come out of the Turkish forest and
walk toward us. As he drew nearer I could see that he was small in
stature. He wore a fur jacket and cap. His trousers were black and
dirty. His shoes were not military, yet an army carbine was slung over
his shoulder. He walked directly to the pile of stones in the middle
of the road, climbed to the top and spoke loudly. An interpreter told
us that he had said that he was the border patrol and he was ordered
not to let anyone pass.
His authoritative voice was at odds with his appearance. He could not
have been much older than I am and certainly was younger than Ivan.
His face showed no sign of hair. He was about my height, but weighed
much less. His hair was black and ragged. He would not have been out
of place tending goats in my home village.
The boy's eyes were black and full of fire. He did not smile, yet his
countenance could hardly be described as angry. The interpreter told
the boy that we had no intentions of invading his country. The boy
looked doubtful. It was then that Papa came forward and addressed the
lad. "I am Nicholas Romanov. I am the Czar of Russia. What is your
name young man?" Papa's direct approach had stunned most of those
within hearing distance. There was a delay as the interpreter
translated the Czar's words into Turkish. The boy looked dumbfounded
when he realized that the Czar, himself, was talking to him. "Isad,
Sir. But, I warn you, I have orders to shoot anyone who attempts to
come down this road."
"In that case, Isad, would you do me the honor of walking over here to
the border so that I may shake your hand and assure you of our
peaceful intentions." The boy looked even more astounded as the Czar's
words were translated. Slowly he climbed down from his perch and,
while keeping a wary eye towards the others, he walked toward the
wall. He stood rigidly at attention as though he were in the presence
of his own commander.
Nicholas now stood less than a foot from the young soldier. He offered
the boy his hand. They shook. The Czar said, "It is too bad that you
are not Russian. I would like to have a brave, strapping young man
like you in our Army. You are about the same age as my own son."
The Czar, while still holding the boy's hand, partially turned and
beckoned me to join him. "Alexsey, I would like for you to meet a
brave Turkish soldier, Isad." The interpreter converted the message. I
extended my hand and the boy shook it vigorously. The Czar again spoke
to the boy, "Isad, we are here because your people attempted to kidnap
Alexksey, his mother and his sisters. We want your people to
understand that we did nothing to provoke their attack, but we are not
afraid to destroy Turkey and all of her people."
I could feel the boy's hand tremble as the words were translated. It
was then that I spoke. I asked the translator to ask Isad if he would
like something to eat. His eyes grew large. It was obvious that he had
eaten nothing -maybe for days. I asked Papa to have some food brought.
Miraculously a sandwich of meat appeared.
Isad took the offering, held it in his hand for just a moment, then
devoured it all in three huge bites. He said something that I presumed
was "thank you" and returned to his perch, but this time, he sat atop
it, legs dangling down, and watched as we walked back toward the
encampment.
A tent had been erected for me that was surrounded by five others,
each occupied by members of Ivan's company. Sergy asked if it would be
comfortable enough, then mentioned that his bedroll was in the next
tent and close enough to hear me call him.
I was tired from the long day's motor trip and considered retiring
early. The sounds of men getting ready to eat reminded me that I had
not eaten since noon. The camp had been reorganized into circular
groups, each company separate from the next. Fire pits had been
established in the center of the groups and each company's cook was
preparing the last meal of the day. Curiously, I looked toward Turkey
and saw Isad still sitting atop his pile of rocks, his legs swinging
from side to side. The pounding sounds of a Doumbek, the goblet shaped
drum of the Arab world reached my ears and brought back memories of my
Katrina. The beating dimmed and was joined by the fiery, enthusiastic
sounds of a violin and the riqq. The music was earthy music, smoky
music, fire and water music.
The 9/8 beat was a hot tempo and distinctively Gypsy --with an Arabic
influence. The sounds of hands beating on logs were soon joined by
those of muffled feet dancing on the raw earth.
Out of nowhere the throaty whistle of the 'Ud added a sparkle.
I saw Sergy moving toward the music. He turned toward me and beckoned
me to follow.
Despite the cold mountain air, soldiers had stripped to the waist and
were dancing. They crouched, leaned backward, and then defied gravity
as they kicked one leg in the air, then the other. The flickering red
and orange glow from the fire reflected off their bare skin creating a
sensuous atmosphere --a sensuous atmosphere without women.
The smell of cooking cabbage and black bean soup permeated the air.
The dancing stopped as one man after another left to fill his mess
bowl with dinner.
I said: "Sergy, could you send a bowl of Borscht over to Isad. The
smell must be driving him mad."
The boy sought out Ivan who filled his own mess bowl and walked into
the night toward the border.
I half expected the music to resume once the food was gone, but it did
not, so I left the clearing and entered my tent.
I found a pan of water sitting on a box, together with a wash cloth
and a small towel. I proceeded to strip and wash myself of the day's
accumulation of dirt and grime.
The water was warmer than the night air, so I presumed someone had
warmed it for me. But it must have been sometime ago as the wetness
brought a chill to my body.
Quickly I slipped nakedly between the blankets.
My mind was occupied. I could not get the memory of the Turkish boy
out of my thoughts. It seemed strange to note how the friendly contact
of a celebrity like the Czar could change an enemy into an ally; yet
that was what appeared to have happened.
Apparently, I had fallen asleep since I was awakened by Sergy who
said: "Psst! Psst! Tsarevich, I need to speak with you."
Instantly, I was alert even though I had obviously fallen asleep. "Is
that you Sergy?"
"Yes. May I come in?"
"Of course."
He pushed past the closed flap. I could see him kneeling along side my
bed. "Aleksey, Isad would like to speak with you."
"Who?" I asked.
"Isad, the Turkish border soldier."
It took me a moment to equate "Border Soldier" with the young boy who
had been sitting atop the pile of rocks in the center of the road.
"Where is he?"
"Just outside."
"Does he speak Russian? I speak no Arabic."
"Ivan speaks a little Arabic and has been teaching the boy a few
phrases so that he can communicate."
"Where is Ivan?" I asked.
"He is taking Isad's place as Border Patrol. If someone comes along he
will send for Isad."
"Bring him in. He isn't armed is he?"
Sergy kind of chuckled, "If he is, he must have shoved the weapon up
his behind."
Sergy backed out of the tent. Immediately, I saw the silhouette of
Isad as he crawled into the tent. He was bare from the waist up. I
guessed that he had given his fur coat to Ivan so that, from a
distance, it would not appear that he had left his post.
He stood bent over, looking down at me. He was shaking from the cold.
I pointed toward one of my blankets so that he might cover himself. He
misunderstood and instead dropped his trousers, lifted the blanket and
slid in alongside me. For just a moment, I thought maybe Isad was a
gift from Sergy and Ivan.
I turned on to my back. The boy was on his side facing me. "Your
Highness! Please put back wall."
I hesitated before replying and, in that moment, he added: "If no
wall, I dead." His hand touched my hip and he continued: "I do
anything. Please put wall back."
Before I could respond, he ducked his head under the covers and kissed
my abdomen. My petooshock immediately came to life. I put my hands on
his head and pulled him back so that I could look into his eyes.
Realizing the harm that we may have done, I replied: "Yes. We will put
the wall back." Again, he slipped his head under the covers, but this
time he kissed me several times, going lower each time until the head
of my chlen was resting in his ear.
I could not have him believe that this was my price for seeing that
the wall would be restored, so again, I pulled his head above the
blanket, kissed him lightly on the cheek and said: "Come, we will
speak with the Czar."
Sergy was sitting on a log near the fire pit. He seemed surprised to
see me come out of the tent.
"Sergy, do you have a jacket or shirt that Isad can borrow. I must see
my father at once."
Sergy removed his own shirt and handed it to the Turk. "I am going to
bed anyway. Just throw it in my tent when you come back."
Each company had a sentry and we were challenged as we moved from
circle to circle.
There were two sentries just outside of the Czar's tent. The light
from a lantern inside told me that its occupant had not yet retired.
One of the soldiers stepped inside and said: "Your Imperial Majesty,
the Tsarevich wishes to speak with you. He has the Turkish boy with
him."
I explained the situation to the Czar. He smiled, put his arms around
me and said: "The fruit of war is 'death'. The fruit of compassion is
'life'. Of course Aleksey, use Ivan's troops to restore the wall." He
reached over, and laid his hand on Isad's head and pulled him toward
us; then hugged the boy to us as though he were my brother.
We roused Sergy and told him of the task ahead of us.
Isad went back to his pile of rocks, exchanged the shirt for his fur
jacket and resumed his post.
It took less than two hours for the wall to be restored. By 1 A.M., we
were back in our beds and Isad sat on his pile of stones trying vainly
to look fierce.
Over the next few days, the commanding officer had ordered his men to
practice marching and short order drill to keep them occupied.
The only Turk we saw was Isad.
On the 28th of July, a messenger arrived on horseback and sought
immediate audience with the Czar. Austria and Hungary had declared war
on Serbia and were even now marching toward the Serbian Border.
Quickly, papa abandoned the Turkish maneuver. We packed our tents,
loaded the trucks and prepared to depart. I looked toward Turkey. I
wanted to wave good-bye to Isad but, for the first time since our
arrival, he was not at his post.
It wasn't until later that I heard how Ivan's company had added a new
recruit; a dusty skinned young boy who could barely speak Russian.
The Czar quickly dispatched orders that all available troops were to
be deployed along the Serbian Border.
In response to our mobilization, Germany issued a declaration of war
and, by the time we were back in Odessa, our troops had crossed the
border into Serbia.
The Duma was in disarray. As is the Russian nature, each faction was
passionate in its position. Some opposed the war with Germany, others
wanted to "wipe out the Huns."
Thousands of peasants arrived at army bases, volunteering their
services. In St. Petersburg there were crowds of people looking for a
way to participate in the war. We were boarding the train to return to
the capitol when the Czar received a Telegram from Rasputin who was
still in the village of Pokrovskoe. "Great Father. Use extreme
caution. Do not fight with the Germans."
But, the telegram had come too late. We had not declared war on
Germany; they had declared war on us.
The Czar had little time for his family during the trip north. Alex-T
and I switched roles and I spent most of the time telling him the
details of my adventure. When I told him about Isad, he smiled and
asked: "Do you think one day I will meet him?"
"I hope not. I suspect he could tell the difference between us."
"Oh? Is there something you have not told me."
"It is hard to tell how much one learns about someone whose chlen is
in your ear."
+ + + + + +
The Next week
by Alex-P
+ + + + + +
Within the span of the first week of August, the world had changed.
Germany had declared war on Russia. As called for in our treaty with
France, she ordered total mobilization. Immediately, Germany reacted
by demanding free passage through Belgium. France protested in the
strongest terms and Germany declared war on France. Belgium refused
Germany's demand for free passage and Germany declared that she was at
war with Belgium. Before Belgium could react, the Kaiser's troops,
under Gen. Von Kluck, crossed the border but were halted at Liege by
allied forces. Anti-aggression treaties had been violated so Great
Britain declared that she was also at war with Germany.
Telegrams, radiograms and telephone calls came pouring into the
Alexander Palace. Each message seemed to convey still one more crisis
that needed to be dealt with and each crisis required information from
some department or agency in St. Petersburg. At first, the Czar
attempted to travel back and forth from Tsarskoye Selo to the city,
but his day started too early and ended too late. He began staying
overnight at the Winter Palace and we saw less and less of him. Then
the Czarina began spending her nights at the Winter Palace, leaving
the children in the care of the servants.
Tatiana attempted to telephone Piotr at the Admiralty, but the young
sailor was always 'away on an errand'.
Uncle Gregori returned from Pokrovskoe with the intent of influencing
the Czar; but, war was an all-consuming effort that left the monarch
with no time to spend on such matters. It was then that Gregori
resumed his role as 'teacher' to Alex-T and myself.
In the past six months Alex-T and I had shared everything. We had
drawn closer together in both behavior and appearance.
In the beginning it was I who had been taught the mind games and
exercised that skill through practice assignments in 'observation'.
Now Gregori brought the Tsarevich into our program. After a week of
practice in observing body language and predicting the behavior of
others, he suddenly changed the direction of our studies to 'sexual
matters'. It was not a gradual change in subject either. On Friday, we
had spent the entire day observing the servants and writing reports.
On Monday, the day began with Gregori demanding that Alex-T and I show
him our penises. He looked at them very carefully, then asked us to
masturbate so that he could see how much difference there was between
us.
Later that evening, both of us were enthusiastically contemplating the
next step in our education. I kept thinking back to that time over a
year ago when Rasputin had taken us to the village of the gypsies and
was hoping for more of the same; however, I cautioned Alex-T that we
would probably be put through exercises designed to strengthen our
willpower. There was one area of our behavior that was very different.
I had been observing the Tsarevich's behavior when it came to matters
of sex. From the beginning, we had played around together, but he had
always been the instigator. He always came to my bed; I seldom went to
his. Then there had been the incident with the Arab boy in Algiers
--when Alex-T had sneaked off the Standart and returned with the love
bite and the golden pendant of a cock and balls. Finally, there was
that incident when Piotr had thought that I was Alex-T and I had
gotten him off. By comparison, I was quite different. My first
interest in sex had been with Katrina. Of course one could argue that
what had transpired between the Gypsy Boy and myself had not been
without its pleasures; but, I certainly had resisted the opportunity
to get my chlen sucked upon by Isad. I had used my willpower and did
not seek to gain from the boy's disadvantaged position. Underlining
this entire subject was the relationship which had developed between
the Tsarevich and Nijinsky and which had also resulted in Nijinksy
being removed from the Palace.
Uncle Gregori's position, on matters of sex, was that it constituted a
side of human nature which could be used to gain an advantage. I knew
he would not object to my letting someone suck upon my penis if I had
a good reason to allow it --if, as a result, I gained an advantage;
hoever, he would never agree if it were merely a matter of pleasure.
He knew about Alex-T and Nijinsky and had done nothing to hamper that
relationship --that is until it was clear that there was nothing to
gain by letting it continue.
Be that as it may, and despite both of us being aware of all of the
above, Alex-T and I were looking forward to an evening's adventure in
the village of the gypsies.
On Thursday, the Tsarevich became impatient and asked Uncle Gregori if
we would be staying at his apartment in St. Petersburg over the
weekend.
Rasputin looked a little surprised at his question, but then told us
that the village of the gypsies was no more. As soon as war had broken
out, the gypsies had loaded their wagons and headed south.
"But, there is a delightful nudist beach just north of Gdov. We will
leave here tomorrow morning and spend the entire weekend in the
company of those delightful people."
Suddenly the mood changed as Alex-T and I began looking forward to two
days in the sun. I doubt if either of us realized what being a nudist
was all about. Oh sure, we knew we would be unclothed and, to some
extent, that did add a sense of adventure, so we teased each other
about being seduced by many women.
Our sense of fun had evaporated during that long siege of the Standart
at Istanbul and had never really been restored. As the days passed,
the sense of danger and the news of war took away any feeling of
frivolity which we might have sought to maintain.
Now, quiet suddenly, the prospects of the next few day's trip held at
least a promise of pure pleasure.
Uncle Gregori surprised us. When he arrived, he was wearing a dark
cloak with a hat which totally hid him. At his direction, I wore a
rather drab gray dress and a straw hat. The Tsarevich had dyed his
hair a dark brown and wore a simple child's suit; trousers, shirt and
jacket. We left the palace in the company of some of the departing
night staff.
It was still early on Friday when we boarded a train which took us
west through Krosnoye Selo. Gdov was less than 130 miles distant from
St. Petersburg.
Uncle Gregori told us to be quiet and that he would be back shortly.
He disappeared into the men's toilet. When he returned we could not
believe our eyes. He had discarded the cloak and hat. He was clean-
shaven and his hair was short. No one would have recognized him as
being Gregori Rasputin.
We changed trains in Kingisepp. While we were waiting for the one to
Gdov, we went into the men's room. I was instructed to change into a
boy's suit like Alex-T was wearing. I did not alter the color of my
hair.
The party that then boarded the train to Gdov was a man, who could
have been mistaken for a tutor, accompanied by two boys, who looked
like brothers, on holiday.
The train station at Gdov was in the center of the small town. It was
a short walk to a livery stable where we hired a horse and carriage.
The proprietor did not know where "The Sun-Shine Camp" was located,
but Gregori had previously been given good instructions.
It was past two in the afternoon when our carriage turned off the main
road which we had been following to the north. Our new route was
hardly more than a path, although a bit wider. We had traveled less
than fifteen minutes when we were stopped by a gate across the road. A
sign read: "Sun-Shine Camp. Private Property. Clothing Optional. No
Trespassing."
An old man shouted to us through the window of a small shack: "Go
away. This is private property. Members ONLY!"
Gregori returned the greeting, in kind. "We are members. Open the
damned gate."
The old man came out to us to inspect a document which Gregori was
carrying. Under my breath, I said to the Tsarevich: "Ughhhh! I'd hate
to see him without clothes."
The gate guard continued: "Just past the second curve, you'll find a
place to tie your horse. You need to get naked there. but don't leave
your duds in the carriage. We've had problems with neighborhood kids
carrying 'em away."
We had passed through the gate and were soon out of the gate guard's
sight.
There were four other carriages parked. The horses were tied to a
hitching post next to a watering trough. The attendant was a boy not
quite as old as Piotr. His hair was red and ragged.
It seemed odd to hear this youth, dressed in his short work trousers,
bare chested, repeat the instruction of the gate keeper. "I'll take
care of your horse. You need to get naked here. Don't leave your duds
in the carriage. We've had problems with kids carrying 'em away."
Uncle Gregori stepped down from the carriage and handed the reigns to
the youth, then began to strip. The boy just stood there, watching.
Finally, Gregori said, "Come on boys take them off. Fold them neatly
so they won't get wrinkled; we won't need them again until we return
to St. Petersburg."
The stable boy asked, "You'se staying for the entire weekend? Or is
you just here for the afternoon?"
I took off my coat, then shirt and shoes. The attendant was now
watching me as closely as he had Uncle Gregori. The attention caused
my petooshock to stiffen. Alex-T began to laugh. "And we aren't even
at the beach yet."
In a stern voice Gregori said: "Alex. Remember to use your will-
power." He then turned to the Tsarevich and said, "Peter has had
practice in controlling himself. You have not. So don't feel so
superior. Now strip."
Alex-T turned toward me and away from the attendant. He removed his
jacket and shirt, then loosened his belt. When he tried to lower his
pants, he could not get the cuffs past his shoes. He bent over to pull
them off. The attendant was staring at Alex-T's naked butt and I
thought I saw a stirring in the attendant's trousers. Once the pants
were off, Alex stood and I laughed. He had dyed his pubic hair to
match the hair on his head, but perspiration had caused the color to
run, creating long, dark streaks along his inner thighs. At a quick
glance, it looked like he had diarrhea.
Uncle Gregori started to laugh, then stopped. He asked the attendant
to take a look at our horse's front right hoof and, as he diverted the
boy's attention, he motioned for me to use the horses watering trough
to help the Tsarevich wash away the brown streaks.
Once he was clean, his light colored pubic hair contrasted sharply
with the dark brown of his head hair; but, there was nothing that
could be done about it. If we were to go into the camp, we would have
to do so without clothing.
We thanked the hired hand and proceeded toward the ocean. Just before
we were out of sight, the attendant shouted, "Send one of the boys
back before sundown. If he helps me brush and stable the horses, I'll
not charge you for takin' care of yours."
Gregori did not respond, but I could see that he was looking for an
advantage worthy of having one of us return. I could see none and thus
promptly forgot about the offer.
We had turned the final bend in the road and were immediately in what
could best be described as a compound. There was a log fence that
protected three sides from intruders; the fourth side was the ocean.
On the far end of the compound were two tennis courts. Next to the
gate was a long, low, unpainted, wooden building. A gray haired man
stood behind a counter and looked our way. "Are you the Kokoroffs?"
Uncle Gregori whispered: "I am glad he asked, I'd forgotten the name I
used to make the reservation." Then he replied, "Yes, and these are my
two sons, Peter and Alex."
The man came around the counter and said: "Come, let me introduce you
to our other guests."
Our host was in his late forties. His body was firm and brown from the
sun. By comparison with Uncle Gregori, this man was in good shape.
While Gregori was thin, his buttocks did not exhibit the firm muscle
tone to be noted in those of our host. The man's penis was nowhere
near as large as Gregori's, yet it swung freely from side to side as
he walked. The gray to be seen on his head had not yet invaded his
pubic regions.
In the back of my mind I had imagined Camp Sunshine as being a place
of sexual abandon; a place where everyone was engaged in a grand orgy;
a place were all of the men were erect and buried within the women. It
was, therefore, a disappointment to see all of these unclothed people
engaged in only those same activities which one might observe amidst
people who were fully clothed: swimming, tennis, playing cards, or
munching on a sandwich.
We approached a group of three: a woman, a girl and a boy. "Sophie, I
want you to meet the Kokoroffs. This is my wife and my children Yaslov
and Chennie. The girl turned toward us and I almost swooned! She
looked exactly like my Katrina; same dark hair, same fiery eyes and a
smile that made me fall in love all over again. My chlen immediately
jumped to full attention.
The girl did not lower her gaze, yet I was certain she must have seen
my reaction. If I covered myself with my hand, it would draw their
attention to my discomfort. While I smiled and tried to ignore my
lower half, my effort was a miserable failure.
The Camp Director delivered me from my embarrassment. "Yarslov, why
don't you show Alex and Peter the best swimming part of the beach? The
cool water should be most refreshing after their long journey from St.
Petersburg."
The girl looked disappointed as we turned and ran for the safety of
the water, her brother in the lead; however, the look on her mother's
face practically shouted that her daughter should not tag along.
Then Yarslov's next line broke us up: "So you want to fuck my sister?
It's hard to hide your feelings out here."
Alex-T's only comment was: "I guess!"
We hit the cool water with a splash, but it was so shallow that my
erect chlen dug into the sand and caused me to yelp.
The Tsarevich looked questioningly at me, while Yarslov guessed
correctly. "Ya gotta watch yer skag. It's not very deep here."
Our host dove toward Alex-T and suddenly they were wrestling. In fear
of possible injury to the Tsarevich I entered the fray and substituted
myself.
When we came to the surface, all of the hair dye had washed from
Alex's hair and he and I looked exactly alike.
I winked at Alex and said, "I guess the game is up. We can no longer
deny that we are twins."
Yarslov laughed and pointed at my sanded chlen and said: "Well not
exactly. Yours looks like it has been in a pencil sharpener."
We helped Alex wash away the remnants of the hair dye while Yars
continued to talk. "I guess you guys were hoping for a lot of girls;
most visitors do."
"Yeah." I replied. "Is your sister the only girl our age around here?"
"She and I are the only ones that live here, but a few of our members
have kids our age."
"Well do you..." Alex started to ask, but was interrupted by Yars.
"Girls are girls whether they are here or someplace else. They don't
behave any differently than they do in school. The only thing is that
we boys have a difficult time hiding how we feel about a girl." Then
he chuckled, pointed at my recovering petooshock and said: "But I
guess you already found that out for yourself. It takes a little while
to get used to being naked in front of everyone, especially cute
girls. But in time you learn to cope with it. But there is still the
occasional moment when I catch a bone. It's more embarrassing when Mom
is there."
Alex asked: "Have you had your first girl yet?"
"You mean have I fucked my first girl yet?"
Alex nodded, "yes."
"Oh yeah! There is this one girl at school that has had the hots for
me ever since she learned that I lived here at the camp. About a month
ago she slipped me a note and said she was coming down for a midnight
swim. Well, I spent the whole day fantasizing about what it would be
like... you know, have someone else work on my tool. Everyone around
here goes to sleep shortly after the sun goes down. Shit, I couldn't
get any sleep. I kept looking out my window at the beach. Every minute
seemed like an hour, but finally I saw her walking along the shore
line. I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my waist and ran down the
beach. She laughed at me, grabbed my towel and threw it as far as she
could. Of course my chlen was totally hard. She threw her arms around
my neck and kissed me, pulling my body against hers so that my cock
was drooling all over her dress. We hadn't spoken a word. She had her
hands on the cheeks of my buttocks. I thought I was going to loose it
right then, but she broke away and dropped her dress."
I was looking at Alex, his chlen had become completely erect. Eagerly,
I asked: "...And?"
"I wanted to do it right then and there, but she wanted to go for a
swim first. So we swam out till the water was deep enough for us to
stand with just our chins out of the water. Then we embraced again.
Her kisses were like nothing I had ever experienced. Her tongue probed
every inch of my mouth and my chlen was pushed up against her vagina.
I tried wiggling around hoping that it would find its way inside of
her, but it didn't. Finally I put my finger in her slit and tried to
enter her, but the ocean water made it difficult. My sister had once
said something about how a tongue in her ear got her passionate, so I
began nibbling on her ear lobe and breathing hot air into her ear
canal. It worked. She ground her pelvis into mine, seemingly as eager
as was I. Then we swam further down the beach and found a little mound
of leaves."
I couldn't help but notice that all three of us were standing there in
the water with fully erect boners.
He continued: "It was embarrassing. We had lain down, she was on the
bottom, with her legs spread apart. I was kneeling trying to find the
hole and kept missing it. She grabbed my chlen and started to guide me
in. I can still feel the heat on the head of my cock. I was so close
to entering and I shot my load without even getting the head inside.
"But, I guess she was experienced, because she told me that she was
glad that I did, because after a few minutes rest we could do it for a
long time. She was right and we did."
Without realizing what we were doing, all three of us had let our
hands cover and massage our erect chlens.
Alex asked: "Has it happened again?"
"Oh yes. She comes down here every night. Three weeks ago she asked me
if I knew anyone that would like to meet her girl friend. I told her
'no,' but I'd keep my eyes open for someone. Then she told me she
would be having her period in a few days and asked if I would swim
with her girl friend till her period had passed. I agreed and, for
five days, I was making love to the friend. Then things got out of
hand. The first girl recovered and the second one wanted to continue,
so I told the first girl that we should meet at ten-thirty instead of
midnight. Then I told the second girl to meet me at one in the
morning. That gave me about an hour to recover."
Alex and I just stood there in awe. Yarslov was living every boy's
dream.
I said, "Wow!".
Yarslov continued, "Well, it is great, but it really tires me out.
This has been going on every night for almost two weeks." He paused
for a long time with a somewhat evil grin on his face, then asked: "If
you would like to meet them, I'll suggest it and, if they say OK, I'll
introduce you tomorrow night."
We heard the sound of a gong and Yarslov said: "You'd better get those
down. That's the dinner gong." He started to walk away, turned back
toward us and said: "If I were you, I'd jack-off right now; otherwise,
those things are going to be up and down for the rest of the day."
We followed his suggestion and returned to the compound just a few
minutes later --with much less of a problem.
Uncle Gregori was chatting with the camp director and a blonde haired
woman of no more than thirty. Alex-T observed this and asked: "Do you
think he'll invite her to spend the night?"
"I doubt it. Our cabin is far to small and we have only the one bed."
Dinner was a simple meal, served from the same counter that was used
to check in guests. It consisted of dark peasant bread, a lumpy soup
of horse meat, beets and cabbage. I looked around for something to
drink and was surprised that there was no Madera or even Vodka, in
fact there was nothing alcoholic. Later we learned that alcoholic
beverages were not allowed at Camp Sunshine.
Even though we were tired from our traveling, Alex-T and I couldn't
get to sleep. All we could think of was Yarslov, the two girls and the
fact that his first encounter of the evening was scheduled for ten-
thirty.
Uncle Gregori must have been equally as tired because he was snoring
heavily.
At ten o'clock we crept out of bed and found our way down the beach to
a clump of bushes where we could watch Yarslov. The spot was just
beyond the fence and had a good view of both the ocean and the mound
of leaves that he had pointed out to us.
At ten-twenty we heard someone coming down the beach. It was the girl.
As she drew closer we could see that she was wearing a thin, white
dress. At first we thought it was a night shirt, but as the breeze
caught it we could see that it was much flimsier.
She looked toward the compound and, not seeing anyone, she waded out
into the water. The pale moonlight formed a halo around her head,
causing her hair to sparkle. She turned back to shore and once again
looked toward the compound. Then she lifted her dress over her head,
moved back to the dry sand and tossed it onto the beach.
Then we heard Yars moving stealthily through the compound.
The girl moved further out into the water till it covered her hips.
Yars, already erect, moved faster, but the resistance of the water
slowed his progress. They embraced. His lips sought hers and, even in
the dim night-light, we could see that their mouths had opened and
that they were devouring each other.
Alex had moved much closer to me. He put his arm around my waist and
whispered: "Do you think they are going to do it. You know, do it
right there --right there in the water?"
"No. Don't think so, remember he said they tried but the ocean water
made it difficult."
As though I was the director of this play, the two actors walked, arms
around each other, to the mound of leaves. They continued to kiss and
we could see Yars' chlen flapping against her thigh. Quickly her hand
grasped the intrusive member and moved it between them. I could tell
by the way Yars moved that it was not just between them, but rather in
her.
Still standing, they began a rhythmic movement. As they both moved
closer together, she lifted up on her toes; as they withdrew, she
settled back on to her heels.
"Why don't they just lay down and DO IT?" Alex asked.
"I think they will get around to it." It was then that I felt Alex's
hand on my Chlen. I reciprocated and we stood there jacking each other
off as we watched Yars and his girl lay down. As the pace of their
movements increased, so did ours. Within a few minutes, perhaps it was
only seconds, we all four reached our climax.
We rested as we continued to observe the activity. Eventually, the
girl dressed and the two walked away from us toward the trees. The
girl disappeared into the forest and Yars retraced his steps toward
the compound.
He was less than ten feet from our clump of bushes when we heard him
say, "OK Guys you can come out of there now. We'll talk tomorrow. I've
got to get some sleep. I have to be back here in a couple of hours. Oh
Yeah. I almost forgot. I asked her and she said she'd love to meet you
two."
The boy had continued his trek back to his cabin. Alex and I were
embarrassed about being caught watching the action so we stayed
concealed and did not reply, but his comments had brought our wilting
penises back to full rigidity.
Our passions having been partially satiated, allowed us to sleep
through the 1 A.M. encounter.
Saturday morning started with a frisky wake-up call from the camp
director in the form of a loud and continuous banging of the dinner
gong.
Yars' sister knocked on our door and asked if we would be up to a
quick game of tennis before breakfast. Alex-T rolled his eyes and
said: "Forget it." But I was eager. The vision of Yars and his girl
friend in the throes of passion, plus my memories of my Katrina, plus
my very erect chlen combined to form an irresistible force.
Uncle Gregori half-way raised himself from the bed, while Alex-T
buried his head under his pillow.
By exercising a magnificent amount of will-power, I was able to get my
chlen under control and, even though it was still a little larger than
it should have been, I raced out the door. "I haven't played in a long
time, so you will have to be gentle with me."
Yars' sister, Chennie, demonstrated the basic strokes and then we
started hitting the ball back and forth. The pace quickened as she
saw how rapidly I improved with every stroke. My ego was soaring with
self-confidence, until she began developing a vicious top spin drive,
lashing the ball into the corners of the court --and always inside the
chalk line. This kept me leaping from one side to the other. I could
feel my chlen stretching in the heat and my balls were hitting my
legs.
It was going to be a hot day and I called for a break to catch my
breath. Chennie quickly agreed and joined me on a bench. Her face was
perspiring, there were trickles of sweat running down her neck and
into the crevice between her breasts; she was breathing hard. My balls
were itching and I desperately wanted to scratch them, but I was too
embarrassed to do so.
"You aren't half bad. Want to play a match with Yars and Mom?"
I nodded "Yes" and she eagerly ran across the court yelling at her
brother.
I wasn't sure that this was going to be a fair match. I had only
played occasionally during the past year on the Alexander palace
courts. Usually it had been because Anastasia or Tatiana were looking
for someone to practice with.
Chennie appeared to be about sixteen, while her mother looked to be in
her forties.
While we waited, Chennie briefly reviewed doubles tactics and I
quickly understood the reasoning behind them.
Our opponents served first. Yars served to Chennie who hit a forehand
smash down the center of the court. Yars, coming to the net, could
manage only a weak volley return that I slammed into his feet for a
winner. The match was 6-0, 6-0.
A few of the members had gathered along the court. Then the Dinner
Gong notified everyone that breakfast was now or never.
Reluctantly we yielded, but not before a challenge to continue the
competition immediately after we ate.
Even though I was hungry, I ate sparsely. I wanted to be ready for the
game. I secretly hoped that Yars and his mother would eat too much and
be sluggish when we resumed our play, but I was disappointed.
Uncle Gregori whispered in my ear that if I concentrated on the body
language of my opponents, winning the game would not be difficult.
Yars' mother served first. I thought she had won the match with that
single serve. But then Chennie served to her brother who was
receiving deep. It came off her racket like a bullet and kicked up
chalk as it hit in the service box while moving at an angle sharply
away from Yars. He could only watch it hit the screen behind the
adjacent court. In many ways, it was a strange match. Like the other
it ended 6-0, 6-0.
In a display of good-natured defeat, Yars padded around the net, put
his arm around my waist and said, "Let's go for a swim."
Ignoring his sister, he pulled me toward the water. I looked around to
see where Alex was and saw him still eating his breakfast. Chennie had
poured herself a glass of orange juice and seated herself across from
him.
"So are you up to a bit of fun with the girls tonight?" Yars asked.
"Of course, and so is Alex. But how are we going to do this? Are you
just going to introduce us? Or what?"
"It's going to be better than that. Both girls are coming at Midnight,
so there will be all five of us. Later this afternoon we need to make
a little camp in the forest where we will be out of sight. There is a
good spot just around the bend of the shore line."
"That makes three guys and two girls. Would Chennie like to join us?"
I asked.
"We can't do that. No one knows that I go out every night."
I would have preferred to spend the afternoon in Chennie's company,
but Yars and Alex were looking forward to the adventure with great
anticipation and so I could not let them down.
We had spent most of the afternoon constructing our little nest. We
had hidden blankets inside of a beach bag that we used to make one
large bed. Yars began to call it his "Play Pen". And of course we
talked about our fantasy for the night time activity. Yars suggested
that we each take turns with each girl by playing "Spin the Bottle".
And that after a while we might even vote on who was the best at doing
what with whom.
It was close to sundown when the dinner gong signaled the last meal of
the evening. Reluctantly we left our nest and joined the others in the
compound. There was a lot of activity. Several new couples had checked
in. They had brought a copy of the St. Petersburg News. The headlines
screamed, "BATTLE AT TANNENBERG THOUSANDS PERISH"
Uncle Gregori was greatly concerned about the news and said he needed
to talk with the Czar as soon as possible.
Thus, quite unexpectedly, and with great disappointment, we bid our
new friends farewell and returned to the capital.
Alex and I wondered what poor Yars was going to do with both girls at
the same time. We were envious.
All author22 books are available in paperback from Amazon.com, and are
also available as with colorful illustration in html format for viewing
on your own PC, or in Franklin Rocket-eBook format.
Contact author22@aol.com for further information.