Date: Thu, 17 Nov 2005 15:54:39 +0100 From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com> Subject: Alain's Diary - 07/14 (t+m+m adult-youth) ---------------------------- ALAIN'S DIARY by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2005 written on October 8th, 1990 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Dave ----------------------------- USUAL DISCLAIMER "ALAIN'S DIARY" 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. ----------------------------- Part 7 19th of September 1972, Tuesday It is two a.m. (and therefore I should have written 20th Wednesday) and I am at Philippe's house after I met Jacques. All yesterday and all today I couldn't think of anything but him, so this morning I cut a bad figure with the math prof. (Alain Delon) who asked me a question when I was not paying attention. Anyway, this evening we met. Jacques arrived a little after me, as I was really in a hurry to meet him, so that at ten before ten I was already there. He was punctual. As I got in his car, the first words out of his mouth were: "You managed to come, I'm happy to say!" - Then he gave me one of those smiles that make me melt completely. I say to him: "Next time, couldn't we meet any earlier?" "Unhappily not, I have an engagement that ends at 9:45, so I can't be here before 10." and I: "but on the other days? Why only once in two weeks?" And he: "Because I don't live here in St. Etienne. I'm here just once every two weeks. I'd like meeting you more often, you know." Myself, especially now that I'm no longer at Philippe's home since school started again and his wife came back, I would like to meet Jacques every day - even if I still slept with Philippe. Anyway I like it a lot that Jacques too would like to see me more often. I don't know what it is, but it seems almost strange that a young man as handsome as he is could content himself with me. It is not that I'm ugly, but I'm nothing special either. When we arrive under the bridge, he pulls out the familiar plaid blanket and we undress at once. This night there is little light. We can barely see each other and I'm sorry. I like looking at him stark naked. I said him: "Two engaged people, or a husband and wife make love, but two like us just have sex." And he says: "But they could also make love, couldn't they?" and then asks me: "Did you never fall in love?" and I: "Once, but just a little, with a girl of my class." And he: "And never with a male?" I look at him a little taken aback he can ask me such a thing and say: "No way! Males fall in love with females, not with males." And he says to me: "Don't talk bullshit, Alain. Two men can also fall in love with each other, besides having sex." "How?" I ask, astounded and unbelieving. He, patiently: "If besides having sex, one becomes so important to the other that he only wants to be with him and make only him happy. If one feels that without the other his life is not worth shit. If one feels he needs the other and not just to fuck." So I ask him: "Did you ever fall in love with a male?" "Yes, just once. I was your age and he was five years older. But he wanted just to have sex; he was not in love with me. So, when he found another one who attracted him, he left me." "Left you? Was he crazy, leaving someone gorgeous like you?" He laughs and says: "Doesn't matter being beautiful if there is something else. What really matters is loving each other and loving each other means seeing the beauty that is inside the other; that is the most difficult to notice, but that is the more important." Then we stopped talking because we wanted to have sex, or make love as he says. While we were turning each other on, he me and I him, he gave me one of his fabulous kisses then asked me: "do you have a steady boyfriend?" "Not now, I only go with you. And you?" "Me neither." We started having sex again, giving each other pleasure. It is great being held tight between his strong arms and legs while he takes me, and I like caressing and kissing him while I take him. Everything we do I like. And then it is beautiful when we feel we are reaching our orgasm and we reach it little by little, together. Then, when we unload, I feel like screaming for joy. And soon after he embraces me and caresses me and I would like to never go away from there. And then he says me in a whisper: "Do you know? Between one time and the next I always think about you." "Me too" I say him. And he: "it's a shame we have to wait two weeks. It seems like they never pass." And I: "To whom are you saying that! I would like to come every day, really." "I know, unhappily it's me who can't. And each time I'm afraid I won't see you any more." "Why?" "Possibly you'll get tired waiting two weeks. And you will find another more available than me." "No, I don't think so, Jacques. Anyway, where could I find anyone more beautiful and more skilled than you?" "Skilled?" he asks surprised. And I: "Yes, you make me enjoy things better than anybody else. It seems that you know what I need, as if you knew my body better than me. I can't explain it better to you. And you come with me even if I have no experience. But then, I couldn't come every day even if you could - I live in a small village and I am never here in the evenings. To meet you I had to find a pretext and stay at the home of a friend who covers for me." We start to dress and I say: "But you, why do you come to me? I'm not handsome and I'm so awkward." And he: "Shush, silly boy! I like you!" "But why?" "I like you and I'm not even able to tell you why, but I feel so good with you, as I never have with any other. And even about making love, I like how you welcome me into you, and how you come inside me. I'm not able to tell you why, but I know I like you very much and that I always think of you, and that I am happy having met you." I was happy for these words, or rather overjoyed. The idea that he thinks of me, seems so beautiful to me. So I say him: "I would like to have your picture, to look at you when we are not together." And he: "I don't have any, here...." And I: "you can give me one, next time." And he: "Yes, possibly." He takes me back. Then he says goodbye to me with his usual kiss in my mouth, but this time it seems hotter and more beautiful than ever. "Promise me you will come," he says. And I: "Sure! Now I have no more problems spending one night in St. Etienne a couple of times a month. Will you think of me in between?" "I'll do nothing else but, don't worry." We kiss again then I get out. I see his car going away to the main highway, and I go back toward the center of town and Philippe's house. He gave me his house keys. It is all dark and I try to make no noise. Then I started to write on this diary so as not to forget even a single word. But now I have to go to sleep. Good night, Jacques. 21st Sept, '72, Friday I can't meet Jacques until the 3rd of October. The more days pass the more my desire grows. Yesterday night I dreamed of him - he was stark naked in the middle of a lawn under the sun, and I dreamed that his beautiful tool was straight up. Many boys were looking at him, including one who resembled Robert. He tries to approach Jacques, and touch his tool, but Jacques sends him away, and then looks at me and smiles. So I approach him but all the others grab my clothes to hold me back. I fight them, my clothes coming off in their hands and I, completely naked, reach Jacques. He embraces me, and then kisses me in the mouth and my orgasm comes at once. I woke up and my briefs were all wet, as I really came. God, what a wonderful dream! Talking about Robert, today after PE, we were taking our shower in two bordering stalls, and he knocks on the glass door and says: "Do you have some shampoo? I forgot to bring mine." "Yes, wait." I say and come out of my stall, all naked and dripping, open his stall and give him the bottle. And I look between his legs - he is really well endowed. He noticed where I was looking and seemed embarrassed, possibly because it was half hard? Later, while we were dressing, I go to his locker to get my shampoo back and say in a low voice: "But mine is bigger than yours!" He looks at me and makes me a sign to shut up and points at the others like saying that they can overhear me. I shrug my shoulders and go back to my locker. Then, as we are leaving the school, before I head toward Didier's bike, Robert says: "The important thing is it works well, not the size." And I, faking the expression of a dummy: "What are you talking about?" and took off so he wouldn't know that I was about to laugh. With Didier, nothing more. He now seems insignificant to me, although we remain good friends. When I am on his bike, I don't even get a hard-on any more. 27th of September 1972, Thursday Robert suggested we get at his place sometimes to study together. But I told him that afterward it would be difficult for me to go back home, because if I don't go back on the bike with Didier, I have to take the 8 p.m. bus or the 8:30 train and whether from the bus stop or from the train station to my home, it takes about thirty minutes to walk. He says: "Well, when you went to Solange's place, you did it, didn't you? If you come to my place after school, we can study for a few hours in peace, and when you go back home all your homework would be done. I don't mean every day, just sometimes." I say: "I'll ask my parents if they agree. But yours, won't they object?" "No. Mum, instead of leaving a meal just for me, would leave enough for two." So I ask him: "Why, are you alone?" And he: "Yes, mum comes back around six 'o clock and dad around seven; at times even later. They eat lunch at work." I wonder if he is making an advance to me. Who knows? Anyway, back home this afternoon, I asked my mum. She didn't object, says that it will be fine, just to tell her beforehand when I stop at Robert's or else she would worry at my not coming home the usual time. I think that Tuesday will be the day I'll go to Robert's... Now I stop writing. I'll finish my homework for tomorrow and then hit the sack. Who knows if I'll dream about Jacques again? Since that one time, I never dreamed of him again. But next Tuesday I'll meet him! 3rd of October 72 Tuesday. Tonight, Jacques arrived for our date at the same time I did. Without shutting off the engine, he opened the door and I got inside. He gave me great pleasure by saying: "It's good to see you again!" So I ask him: "did you bring me your picture?" And he: "Oh, no, sorry, I forgot it!" So I, just for a joke, say: "Don't you see that you don't think about me?" and pretended to be pouting. And he, to apologize, swears that he didn't do it on purpose, that he thinks of me, and so on. So I say to him: "Well, then, to be forgiven what will you give me for a souvenir?" And he, at once: "What do you want?" And I: "That key holder." "But this has no value... it is just cheap plastic." "But it is yours. I don't give a shit about its value, or else I would have asked you for a 100 franc note as a souvenir, wouldn't I?" He laughs and says: "It's yours. Wait a moment while I put a rubber band around the car keys and then you can have it." So I put his empty key holder on a belt loop. Then he says: "And you, what will you give me as a souvenir?" And I, who had hoped he would ask me, say: "I have nothing, I just have this old coin that I always have in my pocket as a lucky charm. Do you want it?" And he: "But wouldn't you regret giving me your lucky charm?" And I: "No, I'll give it to you willingly." He takes my old coin and puts it in his change purse. We stop at the usual place. While we are spreading out his blanket, I say: "but when it gets cold, what will we do?" And he: "We will stay in the car with the heat on." "But we will be cramped." I say. And he: "I'll like being squeezed against you" and he smiles at me. When he laughs or smiles he becomes even more beautiful, if possible. He pulls me down on the blanket while I'm still half dressed and finishes undressing me. I love being undressed by him. Then at once he embraces me tight, really tight and kisses me deep in the mouth. Fucking hell, doesn't he kiss great!? I almost faint when he kisses me. The other times it was different, I didn't feel his tongue inside and everywhere in that fabulous way! I think that he is almost making me cum like in my dream. And then his hands everywhere, his tool that pushes against me and brushes against me. It is really wonderful. And then, he doesn't want to fuck at once like Philippe, but gradually turns me on more and more, and I feel like being in heaven. Foreplay and after play are as beautiful with him as the intercourse itself. Then he says: "I bet that you beat off a lot." "Yes, but always thinking of you." "You never think about any other guy?" "Well once, a class mate of mine, but I usually think about you, only you. I like you too much." And then he: "Too much? Then I have to do something so that you like me less." "What are you saying? Why do I have to like you less?" "Because too much, is too much." And I: "Big silly boy! I say too much just to say a lot more than a lot!" He laughs in such a way that he seems like an urchin, then kisses me and we continue having sex. Yes, I really like him a lot more than a lot. I say to him: "You, nowadays, who knows how many boys, have the hots for you." 'I don't think about that, I don't even notice." "Come on, don't be modest." "Even if it were so, I would really not be aware, as I think only of you." "Only of me? And why?" "I told you, you are special." Then he gives me a very long kiss and we stop talking and we just have sex in so wonderful a way that I feel I'm in heaven again. When he feels I am about to explode, he stops and sweetly whispers: "No, wait, not yet, Alain, I want to enjoy you some more." I think that when Jacques is aroused he is wonderful and I like looking at him and feeling him all over my body, and make those moments last longer. But then we both are no longer able to hold back and we both cum, and he says: "Oh, Alain, its fantastic!" and we stay locked together to kiss and caress for a long while. Why can't we meet more often? I don't want to wait until the 17th to meet him again and to stay a while with him. Some two or three hours together, then two long weeks that you just wait and that never pass. And he forgot to bring me his picture. I have his key holder that is a nice green-light blue color that makes me think of his eyes. I get lost, in his eyes. It is a miracle that there can be someone in this world so beautiful, so perfect. Near him I feel like the ugly duckling. But what can somebody like him find in someone like me? When I ask him, he just says: "I like you," which is fine but explains nothing. October 9th 1972, Monday This afternoon I went to study at Robert's home. After we ate, before starting to study, he says: "Let's sit in the other room, on the sofa, to hear the last LP I bought, and then we can start to study, OK? I don't like hitting the books so soon after I eat." I think 'here we are' - the sofa, the music, then... On the contrary it seems that nothing at all will happen. He is there, not even close to me. I am there. We listen to the music. I was thinking about what to say to see if maybe he felt like doing something just as I felt like doing, and I was thinking "I'll ask him 'Why you don't give me head the way you did with Didier?'" but then I didn't find the courage. At a certain point he says: "You are no longer with Solange, are you?" "And you and Josiane, did you split up?" And he: "She was not even able to give a good blow job!" And I at once: "It's so good being sucked off, really great." And he: "Oh yeah!" but he does nothing. So I say: "With these speeches, I got a hard-on. Feel here!" I say fingering my basket. But he doesn't come nearer to feel it as I hoped, but just says: "Yeah, me too," and he too touches himself. Then I think it is up me to take the first step and I just pull it out, real hard and straight up, and caress it. He looks at me for a moment, somewhat astounded, but then his eyes are there, staring at my dick, as if it was a magnet. Then I start to stroke it slowly and he just sits there, still saying nothing, doing nothing, but looking, looking. I am at this point forward, and then, always beating myself off, I stand up and move in front of him and say: "Go on, suck it Robert. Take it all in your mouth, go on. Make me cum." And meanwhile I think he will now punch me in my face, or in my balls; that possibly Didier invented it all. On the contrary, he says nothing but bends forward, opens my trousers and lowers them together with my briefs a little more, puts his hands on my buttocks, pulls me toward himself, and starts giving me head. He is skilled. I feel that he likes it. He continues without stopping until he makes me cum and he swallows every drop of it. Then I ask him: "Do you want me to make you cum?" And he: "I already came; I got to change my clothes." And he stands up and goes to his bedroom. He is back in a short while and he has a weird air. "You won't tell anybody, will you?" "No way! But you'll give me head again, when we are alone, won't you?" And he: "I don't know. I'm not used to doing such things." And I: "But you invited me at your place for that, didn't you?" And he, embarrassed: "No, it's not so." And I: "Come on, you like it or else you would not have cum without even touching yourself!" And he blushed to the tip of his ears, like a beet. So I say him: "And you like also taking it in your ass, don't you?" And he: "No way, no!" So I tell him: "Sure you like it - you let the ski instructor shove his rod up your ass, didn't you?" He looks at me completely confused and says: "You weren't there, how can you know that?" And I, triumphant: "I just know it, that's all. And I also know that sometimes you go to the movies to find guys who want some action." He is trembling, feeling bad, so I smile at him and say: "Hey, what's up? Look, I'm gay, too, you know." He looks at me, widens his eyes and says: "You like doing it with guys too?" "Sure dumb ass, that's why I came here - because I wanted to do it with you, it's just a shame you came so soon. But we will have more fun next time. Now let's really do some studying, OK?" Calm now, he says that ever since last year he has been thinking he would like to try it with me, but he thought that I would never be game. And he is happy we can now do it together. Then he asks me: "But you, how long have you been doing stuff like this" and I: "More or less one year." Then he: "I win - I started when I was thirteen, almost five years ago." He tells me that it happened at the parish camp, one summer. An assistant counselor, a boy 22 years old, first made him beat him off, then taught him to give head and, after not even a week, took his cherry - and didn't even hurt him! Robert doesn't like being a top, just being a bottom, he said. "That suits me fine." Then he told me that he thinks Yves is also game and that he wants to do it with him. I said him: "If you are as shy as you were with me, you will never find out what he'll do." And he: "But I am almost certain about Yves. With you, I could swear you were all on the other side, which is why I didn't try with you..." We agreed that Thursday I'll go to his place and that he will let me fuck him. He says he wants that and that he likes my dick. Well, I will make him happy and fuck both his mouth and his ass more than willingly. 12 October 1972, Thursday This morning during break Robert says: "So then, today you'll come to my house, won't you?" "Sure, be ready for a good fuck," I say and wink at him. And he: "You will see, I'll give you a good surprise." And I: "Good?" And he: "I really think so." He wouldn't say anything else. After school we go to his place, eat lunch, then I say him: "Let's go on your bed." And he: "No, on my parents' double bed. But not now, wait a moment. Let's listen to some music first." I say all right. We sit on the sofa and he puts on some music. It must have been two 'o clock when the door bell rings. I say "Shit! You were expecting somebody?" And he: "Yes, the surprise." And goes to open the door, and I am thinking: "What the hell, maybe its Didier...." Instead, in comes Yves! How come I didn't think of him? I don't really like Yves, but he really is handsome. We greet each other and Robert says: "Now we can go to the bed." And I: "A threesome?" And Yves: "Sure thing! A little orgy." As soon as we are in his parents' room, Robert starts to undress. Yves at once opens my pants, pulls it out and says: "That's some dick! Go on. Put it all down deep in my throat!" To me, he seems a little too pushy and vulgar, but... why not? He kneels in front of me and I fuck him a while in his mouth while Robert pulls off my clothes then Yves's, too. We get on the big bed and start tussling. Yves in bed is a little too effeminate for my liking, but who cares? It is good group-sex with just me as the top and they compete to take my dick in their mouths or asses. I had fun! With his mouth Yves is more skilled, but as for the ass, I prefer Robert's. He knows what to do, how to take it. While I was fucking Robert's ass, Yves was licking me all over and that was really pleasurable. Then, when I came I was somewhat worn out, they did a juicy sixty-nine, Robert under and Yves on top of him. Looking at them I got hard again, so I fucked Yves who was in the right position, while they kept on sucking each other. Later, when we had dressed and gone back to the living room, we talked about sex. That's how I learned that women also do it between themselves and that they are called lesbians. Yves said that not just the ones my doctor told me about that time, but also Alexander the Great, and Caravaggio and Leonardo da Vinci, and Gide and Verlaine - maybe even half of the world - are gay. He bragged that in Nancy he had a steady man, a policeman 28 years old with whom he had been making love for two and half years. But the one who took his cherry was his elder brother - when he was 14 and his brother 18. I thought about that, but I told myself I would never do it with my little brother Did"... not even if he were now fourteen or more... Anyway, after Yves left, I said to Robert that I preferred doing it alone with him, or alone with Yves and not with both of them, and that anyway I like him best. But now I understand something - it is true that with everybody I just have sex, but with Jacques I make love. With Jacques it is a completely different thing. Ah, Jacques! 16th of October 1972, Monday At last tomorrow I'll meet Jacques. Neither Philippe nor Robert is worth a tenth of Jacques. I think that if I could meet him every day, or at least more often, I would never look at the face (or between the legs) of any other male. I would not try; I would not touch any other male. I am pretty sure, Jacques is way too beautiful, sweet, unique, too... everything! He is like the sun - when it shines you can't see the stars any more. They all disappear, even the brightest ones. And then he is able to do it so well - it seems he always knows how and where and when to touch me, as if he knew everything that my body wanted, even things that I didn't even know I wanted. But it is not just the sex. With him, it is also his tenderness, his smile, his voice, and... all the rest of him. Tomorrow we will meet. I'm really longing to feel his body, his beautiful body, searching mine all over, doing me.... 12 November 1972, Sunday. What a horrible month! On the afternoon of the 16th of October, I was home writing in this diary, when all the sirens at the mine went off at once. Then came the ambulances' sirens and the fire truck and police car sirens. A bad accident must have happened in the mine. We run, Mom and I, with Corinne remaining at home to care for the children. When we arrive at the mine, half of the village is there - anxious. Babette comes running frantically. We are in front of the mine gate. Eventually, the news starts coming, bits at a time. A shaft had collapsed. Five dead. Dad's name was called out.... Mum fainted and was taken to the hospital. That collapse crushed five families. The funerals, all the village, all the miners, the authorities. Also my school mates and Babette's, Corinne's whole school. And relatives come from everywhere, and the great mass... When it is all over, we are alone in our pain, in our despair. Then the managing director comes in person, sent to our home by the owner. We are told that if I want I can take my father's place in the mine, to support the family. I accepted at once. We decided that Babette will stop going to school and will get an everyday job. The notary, being happy with her, hired her at once. The mine's insurance will also pay us an indemnity, so possibly we will have more money than before. But Dad is no longer with us. Mum cries night and day and Babette told her: "Try to make yourself strong, mum, at least for the children." But Mum seems to listen to nobody. She is shut up in her pain. We too are in pain, but we have to carry on. Now all the family is on our shoulders, Babette's and mine. Sure, they don't pay me like they did Dad; he had years of work experience. But with the money Babette will earn, we will have a little more money than Dad earned. It made a great impression on me, going down in the earth's bowels and thinking that Dad went down there for years; that part of those galleries he dug with his hands. And it impressed me when I saw where the rock collapsed and there, I thought, it was wet with dad's blood. Dad's colleagues welcomed me at once with a liking, especially Bernard, but also Sillon and Venieux and Claude, and all the others. I have been working there for ten days now. It's hot, down in those underground bowels. The guts of the earth, really. It is hot so usually we work bare chested, the helmet with the emergency lamp on our heads. When we come out we all seem like black men, covered with coal dust and sweat. After hours of work, the showers are a paradise. 24th of December 1972, Sunday When I come back home I am so worn out that I don't have even the energy to write in this diary. All the days are the same - toil, toil, and toil without even seeing the sunlight. I now understand what poor dad had to feel. Mum still hasn't recovered. So Babette, on top of her day job, has all the house work on her shoulders too. Corinne helps her as much as she can, but she is still a little girl. Poor Babette is getting thin and pale. All my bones and muscles ache but my companions at the mine say I will get used to it. They treat me well. It feels odd not to be called Alain but D_traz, my last name. They called Dad that too. One D_traz dead, another takes his place. The mine is eternal. On October 17th Jacques waited for me in vain. He must have thought I got tired of him. He would be looking for another boy. At this point I have lost him too; I'll never meet him ever again. Would he have felt bad not seeing me? How I do miss his strong arms, his magnetic eyes, his wide and luminous and warm smile... When the yen grows so much that I feel near bursting, I jerk off. Then I close my eyes and think about Jacques, that he is there with me. But he is not there... I'm sorry that Babette can't study any more because she is really smart. But we have decided, she and me, that all our little brothers have to study, it they want, all the way up to the university - even if we have to make big sacrifices. This is Dad's inheritance. Bernard, last Sunday evening, came to ask me if I wanted to go to the tavern with him. I said no, thank you, because there is no money to waste, not even one franc. Anyway, I have so little time to spend with my brothers that I prefer to stay at home. I remember how much I missed dad; therefore I want my brothers to see me as much as possible. I want to play with them. In a while we will go all together to midnight Mass. I really don't feel like it, but it is an occasion for us to be united as a family. It is the first time for us to attend Christmas Mass without dad. Therefore I have absolutely to go. ----------------------------- CONTINUES IN PART 8 ----------------------------- In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is http://andrejkoymasky.com If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English translations, so that I can put on-line more of my stories in English please e-mail at andrej@andrejkoymasky.com ---------------------------