Date: Wed, 10 Feb 1999 12:23:14 +0900
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: 25 years 02

--------------------------

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

----------------------------

LIFE BEGINS AT TWENTY FIVE by Andrej Koymasky (C) 1998 written the 27th
of June, 1994 translated by the author English text kindly revised by
Jacques Dubois.

-----------------------------

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"LIFE BEGINS AT TWENTY FIVE" 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.

-----------------------------

TWO - FORBIDDEN DREAMS

Jacques looked in his telescope. The building had reached the roof.
Workers worked there day after day. He looked at his boy, the one that
in his story was lover with the Arab that named Yves.

Being summer, he now worked wearing just shorts: he had lean, sturdy,
beautiful legs. His shorts were rather close fitting, making his small
and round bottom, and his pleasurable swelling under the fly, stand out.
Jacques dreamed to have him there, to kiss him, to open his shorts,
lower them to his ankles, kneel in front of him, take it all in his
mouth and make the boy rejoice bringing him to orgasm.

At times the boy slipped a hand in his shorts, from the stomach, under
the belt, to adjust his genitals. Jacques quivered with desire. He
wanted to see him naked. That man seemed him to be the most desirable
male he had ever seen.

He had to describe a scene where Karim took the boy there on the roof,
under the sun, lowering his shorts and opening his own fly, being sure
not to be caught by the other workers, since they all were down at the
ground floor for the lunch break. To be more secure, Karim took the iron
ladder connecting the roof with the last floor.

Karim went down from the control cabin, climbing up there with the
intention to take him, because he knew that the boy desired him, even if
they never talked about it. In the preceding days the boy had fingered
himself between his legs in a provocative way. Each time he was sure
Karim was looking at him from his cabin. For an answer, the Arab
caressed his own chest, rubbing his own small, dark, hard tits, as they
looked at each other in the eyes.

When Yves saw the Arab come, pull away the ladder, he smiled at him.
Without a word, Karim took his arms, made him turn back and leaned
against his back, vigourously rubbing his groin and his hard stake on
the boy's small bottom, so he could feel the intensity of his desire.
Meanwhile he opened his belt, undid his fly buttons, and grasped with
both hands the boy's shorts and pants at the sides, he lowered them with
an unique, abrupt movement.

Karim opened his own fly, took it out and while Yves pushed back his
buttocks, offering himself to the man, as the Arab grasped him on the
hips and plunged into him with one determined stroke. Then started to
ride him with force and virile passion.

Yves enjoyed that silent but vigorous fuck, pushing his back against the
man's wide chest. The Arab titillated his chest masturbating him at the
same rhythm of the strokes with which he was taking the boy. Yves turned
back his head as Karim kissed him deeply on the mouth, continuing to
hammer into him. The love words will come later. Now just their bodies
were talking, hungry the one for the other.

Jacques looked at the young mason, inventing that scene and he became
highly aroused. He thought he had to insert it in the story, without
writing it in details, first time Karim had sex with Yves.

Continuing to look at the beautiful body lit by the sun, and fantasizing
about Karim fucking the boy for the first time, Jacques opened his
trousers and masturbated. He imagined feeling his protagonist's
emotions. He felt a little like Karim, a little like Yves and he came,
in his fantasy, together with them in the sunny roof.

He didn't realize that his mother had silently appeared in the door, she
guessed by the fast movements what her son was doing and that she went
away, even more silent, not to embarrass him.

"Poor son," she thought full of sympathy. "If he loved women, perhaps
one day I could find a good girl ready to marry him and to be near him
when I'll be gone. But what will become of him the day after I am dead?"

It was not the first time his mother saw the lonely practices of her
son. Knowing he was gay, several times she thought she had to look a boy
for him, she was even ready to pay a hunter, but she never had the
bravery to go to look for one. She knew there are young males selling
themselves for sex with other males, but she would have too ashamed to
ask. She would also be ashamed to look for a female prostitute, if her
son liked women. Just think about a male! If her son had at least a
friend, friends like him, they could do it for him. But he had no
friends of any kind. Of course, how can a boy that cannot go to dance,
to see a football game, or go to a pub by himself, can find friends? And
who could like to have for friend somebody immobilized in a wheelchair?
Jacques mother was deeply sad for her poor son. But really she didn't
know what to do.

Jacques didn't have the faintest idea that his mother had such thoughts.
Between mothers and sons never sex is discussed. Between parents and
children sex is never named. Or, if it is, that is done by hints, going
round the subject without saying nothing real, concrete, true, serious.
Anyway, what could Jacques say to his mother? That he desired that young
mason up on the scaffoldings because he had an erotic body? Even if he
could say such a thing, what could his mother answer if not: "My poor
son!?" and suffer even more for him? No, such speeches were not possible
with his mother.

All summer long Jacques and his mother remained in town, because they
didn't have the money to go on holiday. Jacques continued his work,
polished his story about Yves, looked at the progress of the works in
that far house, at the other side of the park. The masons finished their
work and his beautiful mason, his imaginary Yves, wasn't there any more.

Men were furnishing the rooms, others were transforming the wide terrace
on the roof into a garden. Trees, bushes, flowers. Jacques's window was
right in front of the roof garden, one floor higher than the last floor
of the house. In front of his room there was a room with all a wall made
in transparent glass. It seemed to be an aquarium. Who knows who could
live there? A painter, he guessed. They were bringing in the furniture:
it was a bedroom. Perhaps a study? It will probably be used by a boy or
a girl. Let's hope it will be a nice boy, Jacques thought. On the other
hand he could be an old bachelor... it wasn't a bedroom big enough for a
couple, the bed was a queen size. Furniture of the end of last century,
rather beautiful, simple. No his new neighbor couldn't possibly be a
young man. An old spinster, probably. The kind that spends hours to put
on make up in the illusion to show a long lost youth, to restore a charm
implacably withered. But amongst the furniture pieces, there wasn't a
dressing table.

They installed the curtains. Modern, white, rigid sliding panels, about
1 foot wide and full room height from floor to ceiling like the glasses.
Jacques counted sixteen panels, while the man was that placed them was
controlling the sliding system. They could rotate ninety degrees and be
gathered together against the walls, half at the left and half at the
right. How would the new tenant keep them?

The bed was against the glass wall, as well as the desk. On the wall
opposite the glass wall there were three doors: the entrance, the shower
and the toilet door. He knew that because he had seen when they brought
the fixtures inside and installed the toilet and the bathtub. Between
the entrance door and that of the shower sat a low piece of furniture
with on a TV set. Above the TV were some empty shelves. On the right
wall of the room a wide bookshelf covering all the wall, with a stereo.
But still nothing for Jacques to guess who would inhabit that curious
aquarium-room.

Summer ended. Finally he saw the new people in the house. The first time
he saw them on the roof garden. They were evidently the new tenants of
that luxurious house. He carefully studied them with his telescope.
Father, mother, three children. The eldest probably was nineteen, and
was he beautiful! He wore very tight jeans, wrapping muscled legs, a
light blue T shirt showing a wide chest, and a smiling, tanned face
crowned by golden hair, of the color of ripe wheat.

Jacques held his breath. Saw them wander, then disappear. After a short
while they all were in the aquarium-room. Then all five went out. He
waited and waited... After a little less than one hour, the room door
opened and he entered, the nineteen boy, his arms loaded with a big box.
He put it in front of the TV shelf and begun to take out sports trophies
that he placed on the upper shelves.

Jacques exulted. Young, beautiful and a sportsman!

He saw him go in and out of the room several times, putting his
belongings in order. A middle aged woman he didn't notice before,
appeared at the door and said something to the boy. He turned to answer.
Then they went away and the room was empty.

Jacques mother called him for dinner. The youth unwillingly left the
telescope, pushed the wheels of his chair and went to the kitchen. His
mother served the food and started to tell him about the liver illness
of the professor living at the first floor, about the dog of the tenant
of the last floor that had delivered some nice puppies, about the
daughter of the bartender smoking grass, and how her father had bashed
her because of that... Jacques nodded, said a few words time to time.
But his head was still there, at his telescope, as thought of the boy
that would be his companion from now on.

"Jacques! Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, mum, you were saying that Babette felt in love with a married man,
right?"

"Yes, exactly! And just think that he has two children, Of course my
sister is upset and wanted her to leave him. But you know your cousin,
how stubborn she is... But she has been so from her childhood. So, I was
saying..."

Jacques thought that he didn't care at all about the itches and loves of
his cousin Babette. If she just saw a man she lost her mind. On the
other hand he was not so different, he amused with thought self irony
just a little while before he had seen a trouser and couldn't think
about nothing else, that is just to its content. But at least his cousin
could also have the possibility to open the trousers she was attracted
from and fully enjoy their contents. Not him...

When the dinner was over, he immediately went back to his watch point.
The room seemed deserted. Perhaps he was still having his dinner. Sooner
or later he had to come back, and, above all, to go to bed so Jacques
would see him at least in his underpants. But he yet knew he was
beautiful.

Little by little the house became an undistinguished silhouette and the
glass wall was no longer visible. But he will be back, switch on the
light... provided that he didn't close the curtain. Perhaps just before
to undress... perhaps just the half in front of his bed... He could only
wait and wish on his lucky star for his chance. He looked at his watch:
it was 9:38. Probably the boy was watching TV with his family. But
Jacques was patient: he did have that virtue.

"Don't you switch on your light?" his mother asked from the kitchen.

"Not yet. I feel OK that way." answered Jacques.

"It's not too hot tonight, isn't it?"

"No, it's nice. What do you do, tonight, do you work?"

"Yes. Mireille invited me to play cards, but..."

"And why don't you go? You know she will be glad, and you like to be
with her. Go there, all right?"

"Don't you mind?"

"No, mum! How many times do I have to tell you!"

"Bah, then I've half a mind to go... I won't be late."

"Be late as you want, mum. When I feel like I go to bed."

"By yourself?"

"Yes, yes. You know I can manage, right? Do me a favour and don't worry
too much! Go and stay as long as you feel like!"

"OK. Bye, then. If you need something, you have Mireille's phone number,
right?"

"Of course, mum. Bye. Enjoy yourself."

Finally alone. There was not such a difference, but sometimes he felt
all right being alone. Especially tonight.

At last the light came on. At night that light rectangle in the
darkness, seemed even more an aquarium, he thought. He turned out to his
telescope. Of course, it was him. He sat at his desk and it seemed as if
he was putting some papers in order. Jacques turned the knobs moving the
lenses, adjusted the focus and got a nice foreground of the boy's upper
part . God he was beautiful! He couldn't see the colour of his eyes, but
his nose was straight and fine, his soft lips, the corners slightly
turned upwards, the regular face features, the soft hair casque, the
straight, well drawn and nice eyebrows... were all perfect.

"Ah, could I kiss you..." Jacques murmured with emotion, admiring him.

He didn't watch for a moment, to light a cigarette. When he looked again
in the telescope ocular, he was gone. He widened the field and focused
again: he was no longer in the room. The light was on, so he had to be
back soon. In a while he emerged from the toilet, his trousers open.
Went near his bed and started to undress. Jacques watched him, holding
his breath, looking forward to the vision he was having to get.

The boy leaned down, probably to untie and pull of his shoes, then
pulled down his trousers, took them off, then folded them putting on the
chair. He crossed his arms, took his T shirt at his sides, and slipped
it off from up his head. Jacques emitted a sigh: God what a perfect
torso! Then the boy lowered also his pants underwear and Jacques emitted
a sob: he was perfect there too! And now he was naked, completely naked,
and was offering himself, unknowingly, to Jacques.

For the boy on the other hand in front of his room there was the
darkness of the park. He was higher than the highest trees, and the
other houses were far there at the other side of the park, so he could
not imagine that a modified telescope was aimed at his splendid
nakedness.

Jacques held his breath. The boy turned, even his back was wonderful. He
entered the shower and disappeared from his view.

Jacques rapidly modified the lenses and focused on the shower door in
order to have a foreground image of the boy's body when he would come
out. He waited twenty minutes.

The door opened again and he was there, vigorously rubbing his body for
a long while with a small orange towel. Jacques admired him at ease,
excited. Above all his member, soft and sweet, with his halo of blond
hairs that designed a wide and low pentagon, and the pouch of his
testicles that was partially seen, full and firm under the pole at rest
and yet of good size. The only member he could admire, and also have, to
that moment, besides those when he was a young boy and he quite couldn't
remember, along with those in the pictures, was that of the boy who had
answered to his ad a few years before. This boy's seemed really
wonderful to him.

Who knows how would it be when erect?

Who knows how many girls had the privilege to taste it in one way or
another? A stud like that must have all the girls at his feet, ready to
satisfy any desire he had...

The boy turned and threw the towel inside the shower, closed the door
with a foot, then went to his bed. Jacques moved thought that those two
really plain gestures had all the grace of a light, manly carelessness.

The boy removed the sheet and folded it at the bottom of the bed and lay
down, not wearing pajamas and without closing the curtain. Just now
Jacques noticed one thing: the boy's tan was complete, there wasn't the
faintest trace of the whiteness of skin hidden by swim trunks. That boy
loved complete nudity, much to Jacques's pleasure. He admired it for a
little longer, until he saw the boy stretch his arm toward the wall and
the light flickered out.

Jacques emitted a long sigh.

Then he went to his desk, switched on the lamp and started the computer.
He opened a new file: "my-boy-01" and began to fast write, before his
emotions could attenuate and become confused in him.

"When someone has to describe his own boyfriend, says he is wonderful.
Love, or desire, and eyes do change reality. But he really is the most
beautiful man I've ever seen. He is about 5'10", he plays many sports,
his trophies and cups witnesses that, but above all his muscles are
harmonious and strong, not like a body builder but like a real
sportsman. His hair, as well as the small tufts under his armpits or the
halo on his pubis, are of that warm blond that summer offers us in the
ripe wheat fields. Soft and silky, for the joy of dreaming finger tips.
When he is bare, he is splendid. I don't know if he is conscious of
himself, yet he doesn't seem to be a narcissist. But he must love his
nudity because he exposes his body to the sun completely naked and
sleeps completely naked. Possibly he loves freedom that nakedness is a
symbol of.

I say "possibly" because he doesn't know even that I exist.
Nevertheless, the first time I saw his smile, one morning in the garden
while he was talking with others, I loved him so he is my boyfriend.

Of course I cannot continue to call him "him", so I will give him a
name. I will call him Paul. Because Paul means "little" and he, even if
doesn't know that, is my little one. The one I would like to held in my
arms, cuddle, to whom I would give all my love accumulated in years of
waiting for Paul. My eyes, filled with wonder, have admired his figure,
and my heart, in kind, was filled with wonder that such a perfection
could really exist in this world and that was revealed just to me.

I would like to be a poet, to do justice to his beauty. Beauty that
transcends the physical kind. But I am a poor writer and I'm not able to
find words to write what his vision meant to me.

I desire him, and my desire is heightened by the fact that he doesn't,
and never will, know that he is desired. Not by me, anyway.

Now he is sleeping, laying unveiled on his wide bed, his body offered to
the night like on an altar. I envy the night that can embrace him, I
envy the Sun that can caress him. I would like to be night, I would like
to be the Sun. But probably it is good I'm not the one or the other, or
else the humanity, owing to my love, would be immersed in an eternal
night or in a day without end, because I would never leave my beloved,
even for a single instant.

But I am just an human being, and I have to content to remain alone with
my poor love that never could express to him or reveal him. And he can
quietly sleep, he can live in peace.

Paul, my Paul, what do you dream of now? I would like to know everything
about you. As I thoroughly scrutinized the luminous shape of your
precious nakedness, I would like to search inside your soul, that must
be as beautiful as your young, fresh, vigorous muscles that have charmed
my eyes. I would like to understand what is now charming my soul. Are
you man or angel? Reality or vision? Or perhaps the one and the other at
the same time? Sweet and intimate caresses that my hands will never be
able to give you. But my fantasy will give you them...

Jacques was writing fast and sure. He passed to describe the body he so
much had admired with accents of verism and lyricism at the same time in
a text filled of erotic beauty. He wrote pages and pages without end
until he felt that his heart was about to burst because of the intense
emotion. He saved the text, switched off the computer and went to bed.

We are both laying, our bodies parallel, on the bed: only an enormous,
dark park divides us... Jacques thought with sweet nostalgia for that
figure he had spied, admired until a little while before.

He heard his mother coming back, very late. The woman called him in a
low voice, but he pretended to be sleeping and didn't answer. He heard
her to go to bed. But his mind was there, in the aquarium, lying near
that body he adored.

He fell asleep several hours later, when the sky was lighting up. He
woke up at lunch time, called by his mother. He went to the bathroom to
wash. Looking at his own body, made soft by several years of scarce
physical activity, He thought that it was luck if that boy didn't know
of his existence. That poor body so pale: he would have been terribly
ashamed to show it to him, for the fear in his eyes, if not contempt, or
pity. But, he thought, he surely wouldn't run that risk. Before the
incident he was growing sound, he could have become an handsome boy, but
on the contrary... But after all what did it matter? Even if he was an
Adonis, in those conditions, it would have been a wasted beauty.

That day Jacques's life had a turning point. His mother didn't even
realize it. She continued to tell to her son about the price of the
carrots , about the grocer's, about the Sanitation department that
didn't do a good job, and the assembled glass and plated metal
necklaces, plastic flowers or felt pen boxes, for the firm she was
working for years. The man going to bring and to collect the boxes with
the material, almost every time stopped at their home about one hour to
drink a coffee and to chat with his mother. So they chatted about
politics, TV programs, or about the last fantastic prize won at the
lottery by some unknown person. All seemed to follow exactly like
before, but to Jacques nothing was the same as before.

One day he managed to persuade his mother to push his wheel chair to the
other side of the park, crossing it all. While crossing the park he
found out his ideas were right, from the park it was absolutely
impossible to see the house and the aquarium. That's why his "Paul"
didn't bother to close the curtains, luckily for him.

And finally he had seen the facade of his "Paul" house, with a large gym
at the ground floor called "American Fitness One". Probably it was there
where "Paul" trained? He hoped to see him, but he didn't have that luck.
But at the same time he was glad: he didn't want the boy seeing that
poor invalid in a wheel chair pushed by his mother, a woman a little bit
slovenly and chatty. The building was very beautiful, modern, elegant.
Paul's family had to be wealthy. He felt tempted to ask to his mother to
look what name there was on the entrance door of that building, but then
he changed his mind: he preferred his boy to remain Paul and nothing
more. Like in fairy tales: Hansel and Gretel did ever have a family
name?

"Let's go home, mum."

"As you wish. We had a nice walk today? We have this more often." the
pleased woman said starting to push the wheelchair on the way back,
merrily chatting with her son that heard her with one ear.

Jacques continued, day after day, to look at Paul in the telescope. The
morning when he looked at him waking up, the evening when looked at him
going to bed after the unfailing shower, he could even savour at full
ease his enticing nakedness. And continued to write at the computer his
thoughts, his sensations, his fantasies, his secret love for that
splendid boy.

One evening, he saw Paul sitting naked on the bed, turned toward the
glass wall, with an album, he was slowly leafing through, laid on the
mattress. He saw rising between his legs a splendid erection: the boy's
member was erect upwards, quite parallel to his stomach.

He observed with emotion the boy caressing his own body, then lower his
hand to take his pole, and starting to slowly masturbate while
continuing to leaf through his album. Then Jacques followed suit,
daydreaming that his hand held Paul's member and Paul was masturbating
him. Jacques saw the boy lying down on the bed, the handsome body
tensing, and finally he saw the spurts of white liqueur to vault high,
then to fall down scattering on the chest and the stomach of the boy,
while his body arched in orgasm. And Jacques too, came with him.

Paul lay for long moments, his body languidly abandoned, the wide chest
rising in a slow rhythm while relaxing. Then he began to stir then rose,
lean and good looking going to the shower room.

Jacques realized he was soaked in sweat due to the erotic tension. To
have seen the solitary enjoyment of the boy had almost wearied him. It
has been a too beautiful scene, too exciting. He could not see the
album, he guessed it contained erotic pictures. So, even his boy
masturbated. He was very beautiful, while he was reaching the peak of
pleasure. In any case, it made sense that a nineteen years old boy with
a normal sexuality did that.

The seduction repeated for about ten days, almost every evening. Then,
suddenly as it started, it stopped. Jacques tried to understand the
sudden sexual explosion followed by a new period of absolute calm. But
he couldn't find a logical explanation. Or, to be more accurate, he
found too many to understand which could be the right one. It wasn't so
important. Anyway he described the scene in the smallest details in his
computer, alternating the description with his sensations, his desires,
his thoughts:

"... and I would like to suck your small dark nipples, feeling them
become turgid between my lips, like tasty small blackberries, whilst my
hands caress another turgor in your body, to give you the pleasure you
are pursuing and to communicate, more with my body than with words, the
consuming love I have for you. To feel you tense while your fingers claw
the sheets, to hear you hold your breath, to see your beautiful body
arching like the bow ready to shot the arrow, to spy the approaching of
the explosion, and finally welcome between my lips the necklace of
luminescent pearls that show me your enjoyment and delight. To caress
you while you smile, slightly panting but sated. While on your face is
the bliss of pleasure, and to know that the source of that pleasure was
me, really me"

Jacques didn't know that what he had called a sexual "explosion" was due
to the fact that Alain had parted with his summer friend, and had lasted
until he had found a new partner. So Jacques waited with anxiety to
enjoy again of Alain's pleasure. But for the moment Alain was sated by
the visits he did at his friend home, so he didn't feel no more
compelled to found a solitary satisfaction.

Jacques arranged the text he had written about his "boyfriend",
corrected it, improved it. It was a too long text to be a story, too
short to be a novel. So he decided to wait for more new material. Then
he would try to have it published as a novel, in the "confession" style.

---o---

Alain had found his new lover right on the gym under his house. He was a
twenty six years old young man, a fashion model, really handsome.
Probably a little too much conscious of his beauty, but all considered
he seemed to be likeable enough and he was definitely sexy.

Alain had hooked him, because after cutting with his school mate,
because this wanted to have an exclusive and steady relation with him,
he felt he missed a partner. And the self satisfaction was clearly not
his preferred pastime.

Dominique caught his attention at once . He went to see in the files
drawer; the young man wanted to do light exercises just to maintain a
perfect shape for his work. He was followed by Ben, the American
trainer. Jacques studied his schedule so to be able to be in the sauna
with him, and started to court him. It didn't take too long, as
Dominique also was looking for a partner and Alain was a good morsel.
The third time they met in the sauna, as soon as they were alone, Alain
was about pulling out the towel from around his hips but Dominique beat
him. He stood up from the bench, letting his towel slide on the floor,
and addressing a smile to the other, with a low and warm voice said:

"I can't understand why those stupid rules sheet at the door that in the
sauna and in the showers room say you cannot be naked!"

"Nobody follows this rule. Only people ashamed to show what Mother
Nature gave them do." Alain answered uncovering himself at his turn, but
remaining seated.

Dominique looked between his legs and whispered: "Mother Nature was
generous to you."

"It seems to me that you have nothing to complain about."

"Well, no... not really." said Dominique approaching with a smile and
stopping in front of the other, within hand's reach.

Alain looked at him and noticed that the young man started to have an
erection. "You are a model, right?"

"Yes," the other answered, not caring about the turgor that was rising
between his legs, continuing to look at Alain with a smile.

"Do you pose naked ?" Alain asked him without moving his eyes from the
now conspicuous erection.

"Sometimes, for women's magazines like Playgirl."

"And do you like it?"

"It's always very agreeable to be admired, non? Like you're doing now."
the other answered with a tempting smile.

"It's also nice to be desired." Alain suggested.

"Yes, by anybody, either women or men."

"I would like to know you... better. To continue this conversation
perhaps privately..."

"Good. Why don't you pop over to my place, now?"

"With pleasure..." Alain answered and finally went with his hand to test
the solidity of the youth's member, now fully erect.

Dominique widened his smile and started to titillate the boy's nipples:
"Come on, let's go to the showers. I've got the car, and in a moment we
can be in my pied à terre. Then I'll bring you back, if you want."

Alain followed him to the showers, they washed, dressed up and went out.

As soon as they were into the small single's apartment, still in the
corridor, Dominique held him in his arms and with his voice husky with
desire, asked: "Hey, you want to fuck my ass, right?"

"Of course... I like you!" Alain answered starting to unbutton the
youth's trousers.

They undressed each other going towards Dominique's Turkish bed,
reaching it finally naked and aroused, leaving behind them a track of
clothes. Dominique lay down on his back, folding his legs wide spread
eagle on his chest, in an eloquent invitation. Alain was really wanting
it, kneeled in front of him and rose toward him.

"Wait... put this lubricated condom on..." the young man said giving him
the small package.

Alain opened it and wore it, then leaned on the handsome body and, with
calm and skill, glided into the offered hole.

Dominique emitted a light pleasure moan: "Aaaah, that's goood! You are
the right size. Fuck me, go on, make me enjoy it! Push it all inside...
all of it... yes, that way..."

Alain started to piston inside him. He liked that, but he would have
liked more if there were more preliminaries. But you cannot have
everything from life, he thought while riding that fine figure of a
young man. Anyway was skilled that Dominique; he lightly waved his
pelvis, he made his asshole throb, increasing Alain's pleasure. Yes, lot
better in two than alone, the boy was thinking while he continued to
pump into the other with real pleasure.

"Oh, yes, so! Go on, fuck me, make me feel it for good. Push to the
bottom. God, what a raging male! You like my ass, don't you? Tell me..."

"Yes, sure." Alain answered, slightly annoyed by that language, but
anyway pleased by that body that was giving himself to him with such
enthusiasm.

Dominique continued in his soliloquy: "Oh, what a fine cock do you have!
And how do you use it right! Fuck me for good, let me feel you are the
male. Go on, ram, push it all inside, do it come out from my mouth! Fuck
me hard, that way, yes. Tell me I'm your slave. Tell me I'm yours and
fill me with cum!"

Alain, with all his good intentions, wasn't able talk that way, but it
seemed the for the other was enough to say those words by himself. And
continued, under the strong and firm strokes of Alain, to say: "Ooooh,
yes! Fuck me, ride me, mount me, let me feel your command stick. Ohh,
sooo, yes, good. Hammer in me, go on! You are a bull in heat! Yes..."

And finally, they came.

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 03

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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/

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