Date: Sat, 14 Nov 1998 23:20:22 +0900 From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com> Subject: epistolary-06 -------------------------- I started writing gay stories in 1985 and to now I wrote about 80 of them. Being Italian, of course I wrote them in Italian. Now, many of my friends asked me to translate them in English. But my English, also if understandable, is surely not a "literary" one: I can't know all the nuances and literary tricks I can use in Italian. I need somebody revising my translation. Now, I found a person that is kindly helping me with my stories. But I can't ask to one single person to help me with all of my stories. So, if amongst you there is somebody (with a good English style) that thinks this unpaid work worthy, and wants to help me, I would be really happy. If such a person exists, can send me an e-mail at: andrejkoymasky@geocities.com ---------------------------- EPISTOLARY by Andrej Koymasky (C) 1998 written the 10th of August, 1990 translated by the author English text kindly revised by George. ----------------------------- USUAL DISCLAIMER "EPISTOLARY" 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, ore because you think yo really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest. ----------------------------- Tuesday 10th of February from San Lorenzo Hotel Federico, I would come, but to do what? To touch you. To awake you. I can imagine that. You, there, tense, scared, still. I arouse you. Possibly I make you cum. NO. That first time it wasn't that way. You were giving me tenderness. You were not doing an experiment. The problem is not to know if you can cum with me. Neither if you can fuck with me. The problem is: can you make LOVE with me? I'm not asking that with wickedness, believe me. And then, you now say so, write so. Then possibly you will insult me again. Probably not with words. Perhaps you can also control yourself. But inside you, you will. I'm neithr a straight people perverter, nor a gay people discoverer. I will not touch you any more. Not even with just with one finger. Unless become my lover. Happy and proud to be my lover. I'd rather go back to Carla. I like women, remember that. But I'd readily renounce them, for you. Like I would renounce other women the day I marry one. Because, even if it is true that many arouse me, I'm a faithful man, especially if I am in love. I love you, Federico. And as long as this doesn't die, I don't want anyone else. I'm not interested in anyone else. If this love doesn't die... we will see. Until I fall in love again. With a she or a he, now I know this has no relevancy. I feel very sad, you know why? Because I would like to give you something, to give you more. Sebastiano --------------------- Roma, 13/2/87 Dear Sebastiano, Perhaps you are right. But please don't judge me badly, - I'm trying to understand, trying to accept and it is not easy, at least not for me. All day long I do nothing but think, think about it, but I'm not able to make any decision. And yet that first time it all started in so spontaneous a way, so sweet, so beautiful... Why? If it were always that way, how magic it would be, how simple, how wonderful. Instead, my violent reaction came out and all the troubles started, on the following morning, as I woke up and recalled what I did with you during the night. I read again your letters, one after the other. I marked on the calendar the date of November the 13th, it was a Thursday night. That was the day it all started, exactly three months ago today. Possibly it would have been better if we stopped immediately... no, that is not true. Luckily we didn't. I know I need you, but I'm not yet able to accept that. That is, as you say, I still would like to have just one half of you, the half that doesn't become a problem for me, but that, as you rightly say, is not possible and not right to demand. I feel so inconsequential. And I'm really very sorry you are sad, all the more because I know that it is my fault. I would like to know you are happy, or rather, I would like to make you happy, but I feel I'm not able. As I write to you I'm listening to the record you brought me as a present from the Dolomites. I hear it more and more often, and more and more willingly. It makes me feel good, possibly because it touches the most intimate part of myself and makes it vibrate, it touches my most primal instincts. I never realized that before, but this music is erotic. It has the same rhythm of a beating heart. It has the same rhythm of a sexual mating. It is very beautiful, and it stirs me. And most of all I think, it is because it is your present. I don't have any pictures of you: in these moments I would like to have at least one to cherish. To see your so beautiful smile, sweet, cheerful, tender, cunning. Help me, Sebastiano. I myself don't know how, but help me. Help me to accept myself, to accept you, to love you. At this point, of that, I'm sure. I desire it now, and alone I'm afraid I'll never reach it. Ciao, Sebastiano. Meet you soon, I hope. Federico --------------- Saturday 14th of February from Rome This afternoon I have to leave for Salerno, to proceed in the work. I have stopped even too long here in Rome. But I'll be back, of that you can be sure. I'll send you a picture of me; will that make you happy? You know why that first time was so beautiful? Because you were worried about me. For my pain. You didn't have any other thought. You wanted to be near me. You didn't want anything else. You were not thinking of yourself. Therefore you succeeded in giving me the best of yourself. By instinct. You gave me what I needed: love. You gave it to me without reservation. That's the secret. Then you started to think to yourself, the image of yourself. The one that after your 14th year you built inside your mind. The one you had sewn on yourself. And you realized that it didn't coincide with the reality. With what you gave me. And it all fell apart, ruined, crumbled down. Because you chose the image and not the reality. That night you were happy. The morning after, scared. Do you remember? Was it not that way? I'm trying to help you, for yourself, for me. But it is up to you to carry the biggest burden, this time. Take care. Write me Sebastiano --------------- Roma, 15/2/87 my dear friend, Come back to Rome soon, come back soon to me. I want to be yours, I want to try, at least. I want to touch you, to caress you, to kiss you, to give you pleasure and, if possible, happiness. I want to try to think just of you, of my Sebastiano. I need your love. I still feel strange writing it, but I know now that it is true. You changed all my life, you can change it again for the better, I think. No, for the better, I know. Tomorrow I will go back to work. This week of idleness, of loneliness, did me good. I had a lot of time to think, to put my thoughts in order, to read and read again your letters. You did suffer because of me, right? And yet you helped me, you didn't abandon me even for a moment. You are no egoist. You really love me so much, a lot more than I deserve, I'm more than sure about that, now. I made my choice. Stefania came again to see me but I told her again that all is over between us. She asked me why. I told her that I'm falling in love with another person, but I didn't dare tell her that I'm falling in love with a man, that I'm falling in love with you. You see, I am still so weak. But at least she is gone and I really don't believe she will look for me any more, and I feel a lot better, I feel almost free. Yes, it is true, she was just an excuse to assert my virility, to feel manly. I cut the last tie. I'm ready to leave for a long journey, to explore unknown lands, virgin lands, where by chance I landed for a short while eleven years ago and that I thought lost forever. But I want to go there with you, alone I could not yet navigate. Do you want me on board? Do you want me with you? Will you, this time, stay at my place? I wait for you with longing, with anticipation, with desire. Ciao, see you soon yours Federico --------------- Saturday 21st of February from Salerno Federico, Here you have not one but three pictures of me. Now, to your letter: I don't love you more than you deserve, I love you for all I'm able to. You say that Stefania was the excuse for your virility? And why? Are you now perhaps less virile? Do you feel, perhaps, making love with a man makes you less virile? You are virile, or you are not, and you are. Aren't you starting now to wear the stiletto heels and the garters, right? You are always you, can't you understand that? If you were less virile, anyway, I could never like you. That's for sure. I like you as you've always have been. Virile, precisely. You have so many odd ideas in your head! But I like you for that as well. And you don't need to start shouting to the 4 winds that you want to make love with a man. When I come again to Rome, I'll go once more to a Hotel. If things became difficult, it would be better not to be together all the day long. You say that I changed your life. I don't think so. I hope not. Perhaps I just opened your eyes. If we didn't meet, possibly you would have married. But then, after, you would have met another man with whom you fell in love. Anyone can fall in love with a woman or man. If he/she is honest and accepts it. If not, he/she well run away. Repress. Hide. The learned people would say "sublimate", an elegant term to say to repress, to deny reality. You decided, at last, to stop running away. Yes, I want you on board. But we have to be more sure, or we risk being shipwrecked. I'm sure about me. About you, not yet. Sorry for being so blunt. I too would like to have your picture. Possibly naked. I'm not joking, of course. Yes, I love you. If I did not I would have sent you fucking off to hell and gone one century and a half before now. But love gives one patience. But don't delude yourself. If between us it begins to work, you too must have a lot of patience with me. I'm not just roses and buds. I have my thorns also. Like roses, anyway. I miss you. To tell the truth, I have missed you for three months! I saw a movie, "My beautiful launderette". It is an English movie. Two males fall in love. And they were not fags. Two common youths. Like we are. And they give each other love without stories, without problems. You have to see it. It will do you good. I liked it a lot. It has moved and amused me at the same time. Greetings from Cettina. And also from Ruggiero. Take care, please... Sebastiano --------------- Roma, 1/3/87 My Dear Sebastiano, Thank you so much for the pictures, all three are very beautiful. I understand, or better I think I understand, why you still don't want to come to my place when you are in Rome. I'm sorry and have to disagree, I think that the less we are together, the more difficult it will be for me to accept completely what I feel for you, to accept myself completely, even the physical side of the problem. Now days you populate all my erotic daydreams. But I ask myself, is this really the acceptance of a physical desire, or it is just an attempt at self persuasion? I cannot tell until I can check how I will react to a physical intercourse, a real one, complete, with you. Complete, that is I want to make love until the end, not just to touch each other, caress, perhaps kiss, but all, really all that two men making love together normally do. Active and passive, I mean, front and back. Do you understand, no? I'm getting used to the idea, so then it will be more easy do get used also to the concrete thing, don't you think? Anyway I still feel weird, at times I feel like I'm a little school boy again not prepared for a test. I still feel afraid like I think a young virgin has to feel at her first sexual encounter. I don't yet feel like I felt with the girls: desire to take them in my bed, desire to act, to take the initiative, to enjoy them. Fantasies at times even unrestrained, exciting. Even with Stefania I felt that anticipation sensation, that desire to take her to bed, that animal heat, so intense and so beautiful. But I'm determined to do it with you and, I hope, if I succeed in freeing myself completely, it will be the same with you. Because I love you, I'm more than sure about it. I look at your pictures, the one in the little colored speedo at the pool edge. You have a handsome body, really beautiful. And also in the half bust picture, you have a wonderful smile. But in the picture where you lie on the grass, in your shorts and your hand risen in a gesture that seems an invitation, you are beautiful. It seems that you are inviting somebody to lie near you, close to your body... perhaps .... me? At least this is how I'm fantasizing while looking at it. Yes, in my mind I am answering your invitation. I looked for a picture to send you. Not one seems to me beautiful enough for you, but I'll send you the one that I think is closer to how I see myself. Probably you would have chosen a different one, who knows? I ask myself how do you see me, I ask myself why you are so in love with me, what can you find interesting in me, both for my character and my physical aspect. A short while ago, after showering, I looked at me for a long time in the mirror, trying to look with another person's eyes. Do you know that I never did that before? I didn't find me either handsome or ugly: a male, 25 years old, proportioned, 175 centimeters tall, 71 kilograms, light brown hair slightly waved, straight nose, straight mouth... normal, and average, I want to say. Average or mediocre? I asked myself. It is difficult to judge, to evaluate oneself. The girls did rather like me, no one became mad for me, but no one ran away from me. This sums up the physical aspect. The character is even more difficult to evaluate, because if for the physic there are beauty canons, for the personality it is much more subjective. Anyway, in my opinion, you have a wonderful body and a wonderful personality. Your personality fascinated me from our very first meeting, and at each new encounter your fascination grew for me. I checked the movie section in the newspaper but here in Rome the movie you mentioned is not in any theater. I go very seldom to the movies and normally more to see the works of the conductors I most like, to learn something for my work as a script writer. I went to the telephone company to request a phone connection: they told me that I am on the waiting list, but that it could be some months yet; they were not even able to tell me how many months! I would like at least to hear your voice, even if only on the telephone I wouldn't be able to tell you all I can tell in a letter, but at least I would be able to hear your voice! But the best is talking in person, looking in each other's eyes, because as one speaks he can check the effect his words have on the listener and while he listens, he can grasp also those messages that at times just the words are not sufficient to communicate. But I would like to ask you something: why, besides the physical desire of pleasure, the body of another person could be so important? I think I can guess it, but I would like to know how you feel about this point. I hope you can come to Rome soon and that we can again spend some time together, even if you do decide to stay at a hotel. Ciao. My greetings to Cettina and Ruggiero. I would like to meet them, one day. I'm longing for your letter (and your new envelope) your Federico --------------- Tuesday the 10th of March from Salerno I hope you receive this in time. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, silly goose! When I'll come to Rome, I'll bring you your present. And now, to your letter. I populate your erotic daydreams. Do you mean that you jack off while thinking of me? Learn to speak clearly. As you talk about physical intercourse. Cant' you say get fucked in the ass, get or give a blow job? It annoys you so much? About active and passive, I think you are wrong. In my opinion it is not the top which is active. Nor is it the bottom which is all together passive. One can be a very active bottom. The real passive is the one that in bed let's the partner do everything to the other. For instance a man can be passive and his woman very active. Throw away the labels, refuse the cliche. Anyway, I too feel like a young virgin just as you do. You are for me my first man (rather, for you after all I'm the second). But I'm not frightened, on the contrary, full of desire. I could possibly be a little pig, or perhaps just uninhibited. Thank you for the picture, it is beautiful. You are there exactly as I see you. It doesn't matter if you are not naked. Anyway I saw you live, and I remember you very well. You are a handsome man, don't worry. I like you. Even your personality. In spite of your inhibitions, your doubts, your paranoia and you hard head. The body can communicate things that no speech is able to tell. Especially and mainly through the sexual meeting. That's why I think its natural that two men can have sex between them. Especially if they love each other. To say "I like you" or "I'm in love with you" is not sufficient to express all one feels inside. The body knows how to express that feeling a lot better. I know that I'll be able to tell you how much I love you. With my body, I mean. But what I want to see is if you are able. What I'm waiting from you is not just an orgasm. But to feel that you are saying to me with all the parts of your body that you love me. If you really love me. With all that beautiful manly body of yours. To all this manly body of mine. You write me and say you really love me; show that to me. With your body. Offer me your virginity, take mine. Unite with me entering me through my mouth, my ass hole, everywhere you can enter me. And letting me enter you everywhere. Let us meld together and be only one body just to tell each other how much and how we love each other, without limits. Come out of your cocoon, larva! Transform yourself into a butterfly. Let's fly together in the blue sky. Let's rest together on the perfumed flowers. Let's enjoy each other. Let's write our love. Using our bodies. To write on the other's body. I'm becoming too romantic. It's your fault. I love you. I'll be soon in Rome, I hope. You, meanwhile, take care. S. --------------- Roma, 19/3/87 Dearest Sebastiano, Your letter with the birthday greetings arrived yesterday, just in time. How did you know my exact birthday? It gave me great pleasure, you know? I'm longing for your present, but the best present will be to meet you again. Your image of writing with your body on the body of the other his own love is splendid. I hope I can learn to write, I feel an illiterate, but I would like to become a poet and if you help me I'm sure I can succeed. This being so far away, this separation, this waiting is making me more mature. Well, ok: thinking of you, I take my dick in my hand and I beat it, while with the other hand I touch myself everywhere, thinking it is your hand doing it. Well, not everytime I think of you, of course, in the office or in the street I could not, but it happens quite often at home. I imagine myself kneeling between your open legs and making love to and sucking your dick. Then I fancy you make me stand up, and that you to bend to suck mine. I fancy that while I'm sleeping, naked and on my belly, you lie on me and you slip it into my ass and I wake up feeling you moving up and down inside me. I fancy that you, all naked, are entering the shower box, and I come and put my arms about your shoulders taking you by surprise, I grasp your waist and I thrust it deep inside you and while I fuck your ass, I close my eyes and become the prey of an intense pleasure. I could write it, as you see. It wasn't really so difficult. At times I think these things while I stand naked in front of my mirror and I dream that, instead of my reflected image there it is you, all naked for me. Yesterday evening, before it was dark, I was passing in front of the Campidoglio staircase. There were two young men, around twenty - twenty five like us, almost certainly foreigners, sitting on the stairs. They were half embraced and they gave each other a kiss for a long while. A real French kiss, I mean, not just a peck. I liked looking at them even if I felt a little ashamed to look that way. They were beautiful, their intimacy was beautiful. So, I fancied that we were there kissing each other in that way. And at once I got a hard on, even without brushing it: isn't that a good sign? I'm getting used to the idea and I like it more and more. Anyway, one of the two youths noticed that I was looking at them, and he winked at me and smiled. I think I blushed, and continued on my way, going away. I would have liked to stop and talk with these two, but I felt embarrassed. But then, recalling that couple, I understood one thing: you see, in my head two men having sex, living together was still that of "La Cage aux Folles" pathetic if not ridiculous. On the contrary those two boys, clearly lovers, were exactly like you and me: two very common boys, gentle and manly at the same time, absolutely not effeminate, not even the one with long, soft hair. Yes, I think you are right, there is no sense in those labels, active or passive. Those two boys gave me the impression that they were both very active, even if one is just a top and the other a bottom. Or perhaps each likes to take it in his ass. Or perhaps they just do passionate 69. Nothing changes. I asked myself if I would like it better in my ass or to put it in your ass, and how it will be for you. We will see, right? We will try both the things and we will find our balance so that we can be OK together. We will find it and build it, anyway. Will it be painful the first times? It will be better to buy a lubricant, don't you think? Is it possible that we will loose some blood like girls do when deflowered? It seems to me to be like a small boy discovering for the first time sexuality. Don't I make you laugh? Do you know about these things? I remember the first time I had sex with a woman, how embarrassed I was! I feel just the same way. But at that time I learned and at the end I didn't have any more problems, so I think it will be the same with you, right? But I also remember that time when I did with that school fellow, when I was fourteen. It is true that we only jerked off reciprocally and kissed, but I also remember that I did it probably with curiosity, but with no shame or embarrassment at all: all seemed me so natural and good! Probably the difference is in the fact that with my school fellow it all happened so spontaneously, as with you that time, even if it was him who started all. I liked him a lot and therefore I followed him in our sex without problems, rather with pleasure. With my first girl, on the contrary, I decided I had to do it because I liked her, of course, but mainly because in that way It seemed to me I was becoming a man, an adult I mean. Also taking your dick between my lips, into my mouth, what sensation will it give me? When you pour your seed into my mouth, when you'll cum in my mouth, what will I feel? What taste will it have? Stefania never sucked my dick, but a girl before her did it to me quite often and she liked it and I too liked it a lot. Se liked it for sure, because it was always initiated by her, I never had to ask her. But when I tried to ask that of Stefania, she was near tearing me to pieces: "I don't do those filthy things!" she said reddened in anger... but without shouting. She was so self controlled... Well, we will see, right? For the moment ciao, I send you a strong hug and I wait for you yours Federico ----------------------------- CONTINUES IN PART 7 ----------------------------- In my home page I've put some of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is http://www.geocities.com/~andrejkoymasky/ ---------------------------