Date: Thu, 11 Feb 1999 11:55:09 +0900
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: 25 years 03

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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

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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.

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

THREE - JEALOUSY

Jacques waited at the window for the light in his aquarium to come on
and the boy of his dreams to appear.

---o---

Alain entered his room, switched on the light and threw his sport bag
near his desk. He searched through a drawer, took some drawing pins and
went in front of the toilet door. He unrolled the poster he had in his
hand and fixed it on the door. It was an advertising poster of the sea
fashion line of Yves-Saint Laurent with a picture of Dominique in very
small swimming trunks, immersed to the calves in water, his body wet as
if he was just coming out from sea. It was a really well done picture
that made the model look even more handsome than he really was.
Dominique gave him that picture, very proudly. Then Alain went back to
the desk, sat down, looked for something in his bag. He pulled out a
"Gay Pied" magazine and started to browse through it.

---o---

Jacques followed each move from the darkness of his room. He looked at
the poster and felt a pang: if that was that boy's ideal, even if he was
gay, it was exactly his antithesis. But, anyway, he thought, he would
never meet that boy so there would never be a comparison. Then he saw
his "Paul" leaf through a magazine lying on the desk, but couldn't see
what magazine could it be. He seemed engrossed in reading. And he seemed
to him more beautiful than ever. Jacques didn't know that he was reading
his last story, the one about Yves and Karim, and that he was enjoying
it very much, as usual. He didn't know that Alain was one of the most
passionate readers of the "Marc Jaures" stories. Neither did Alain
suspect that in that moment his favourite writer was watching him at the
telescope. Alain took a pencil, underlined some lines that had impressed
him going over to end the story, then took a sheet of paper and started
to write a letter:

Dear Gay Pied Editorial Staff, For a couple of years I've been a fond
reader of your magazine. I am 20 and my name is Charles (a pseudonym of
course). I like your magazine very much, and in particular Marc Jaures's
tales that I always read with growing pleasure. I just finished the last
one you published, and it is full of poetry even in the most graphic and
realistic passages (I mean, those where he describes in detail the
sexual act). It's obvious that Marc is a person with a serene and free
sexuality and that he considers the physical union of two people loving
each other is a sacred thing, so that I have no hesitation to affirm
that in those passages there is nothing pornographic, but on the
contrary, everything is erotically fine and clean. For that I feel I
have to thank him. Since I guess you can't give me his address, I ask
you to send him the following letter.

My dearest Marc, I thank you very much for what you write. You have to
be a splendid person, full of experience (you must be at least 30) and
humanity. I hope I can meet one day if not you (since you surely have a
lover) someone exactly like you are. In your last story I loved the
description of when the two protagonist-lovers decide to abandon
everything and to start a new life somewhere else. Yves words, in
particular, when you make him say: "It will be absolutely useless to
flee if we were fleeing from ourselves, or to search for ourselves. But
we love each other, that is I love you and you love me. Self love is a
reflex, and I know that love for you is the same..." Those words are
some of the most beautiful messages between the many you give to your
readers in your stories. We have to learn to love ourselves in the
other, or to better say, in the Other. Unhappily I didn't yet find that
"other", but thanks to your stories I can hope to find him one day and
to be able to devote myself to him, soul and body...

Alain wrote rapidly. Then he closed the magazine in his drawer, folded
the letter and slipped it in his sack, because he'd buy an envelope and
a stamp and send it tomorrow. Then he undressed, showered as usual and
went to bed. He threw a glance to the poster of Dominique, who was
smiling to him from the toilet door, and thought that that relationship
would have not lasted very long. That boy was too superficial, tasteless
and he seemed not to have other interests besides his own body, fucking,
and the admiration of others. He shut off the light and started to
sleep.

---o---

Jacques sighed leaving the window, turned on the light on his desk and
started to write new pages of his new true story. He outlined Paul's
personality adding new details and putting down some of his thoughts.
Then he went to sleep, thinking that this novel was coming out very
well, because it was not the fruit of his fantasy but of his falling in
love with that boy, on which his fantasy was just embroidering.

A few days later Jacques saw his Paul entering in his room, searching
for something, then going with a felt pen to the poster and write on it
something, askew, with big letters. When the boy moved away, Jacques
read one only word, written in English: "Boring!" and he smiled,
pleased. He had felt that boy on the picture was a rival. That word
eliminated him!

In reality this didn't change a thing , nevertheless Jacques felt happy.
"Paul, you are a smart boy!" he said to himself. Looking at him he
recalled when he saw him in a sunny afternoon on the roof garden, in
Speedos, plunging (just then he understood that there was also a pool
there). Of course he preferred to see him completely naked in his room,
but his body lit by the fall sun was beautiful. The dive was perfect,
Jacques guessed he was a swimmer. Ah, to have a camera to capture those
images! Perhaps, if his new novel was successful, with its earnings he
could buy one. After all, life didn't give him so much and he had to
gather that little he could and enjoy it.

With the mail Jacques received the usual bundle from "Gay Pied". Those
were the letters that the magazine received, addressed to him. He
browsed through them rapidly. One or two from critics, all the others of
praise. A certain Tony declared his love with a letter that seemed to be
copied from a handbook for lovers without fantasy. An Ali thanked him
for having described, in Karim, an Arab in a positive way, able to love
and not just to fuck, and asked him if by chance he had an Arabian lover
or if he knew the Arab lands and cultures. "It seems that French people,
when they think about us Arabs, just think about the dimensions of our
dick or our endurance when fucking. To them it is as if we had no soul,
no feelings. You are different and reconciled me a little with your
people." Jacques smiled. Then a certain Charles underlined some
sentences of his novel thanking him because, he wrote, he was teaching
him a lot and he hoped to find one day a lover like him. If he knew,
Jacques thought with some bitterness, he would change his idea at once.
A certain F.P.R.S (who knows what those initials stood for?) asked him
to write a love-story about to inmates and affirmed: "Also in prisons at
times born real and sound idylls, notwithstanding the rough skin. Why,
writing stories about prisons they write always and just about rape and
sexual violence? I don't deny they happen, but there isn't just that..."
Could that F.P.R.S. be an ex-convict? Then others. He was impressed by a
letter from a certain Fabien, an eighteen years old boy that sent him
his story: he was the son of an influential man of his town. Due to the
fact that he was a real little rascal, his father had him sent to Reform
school when he was fourteen. There he discovered his homosexuality
thanks to an older companion that made him his "boy". When he got out at
sixteen, instead of going back home, he fled to Paris and became a pimp.
He did the life until then. Sometimes one of his johns hired him and
some of his friends for orgies he organized for artists, or political
men, or industrialists... people with lot of money, anyway. He
participated willingly because in one evening he could earn even three
times a full week pimping. The orgies took place in the villa of that
client. The outline was always the same: all the boys had to undress
completely and to enter in a completely dark room where they had to
wait, standing all around against the walls. Then also the guests
entered and, in the dark, passed to finger them and could use them as
they pleased. If a guest wanted to bring one of them in one of the many
bedrooms to enjoy the boy alone and in peace, he only had to take the
boy from there and go to a bedroom. Some guests, in fact, preferred to
touch, to check if the boy was skilled in what they preferred to do, and
then bring the one they chose to the bedroom for full sex. Others
preferred to do everything there in the dark, possibly with more than
one boy or, at times, two or three guests with the same boy. The boys
preferred to be brought in the bedrooms, because often, if the client
was happy with them, he asked them to meet again... The last time Fabien
went to that villa, he was touched in quite a rude way by a man, having
explored his body for a long while had the boy kneeling in front of him
and fucking Fabien in the mouth. Then he had the boy stood up, turned
around, bent over, and was fucked in the ass for a while. Then the man
withdrew, took his arm and led him outside. Fabien understood that the
man was pleased and wanted to pass the night with him. But as soon as
they arrived in the corridor, Fabien felt like fainting. In the light
Fabien recognised the man: he was his father! The man, of course,
recognized his son at once. Fabien ran away, dressed in a hurry, left
the villa and walked all the night long, thrown into confusion. Fabien
stopped hustling and now he was looking for work, any work. He asked
Marc to write him a letter to help him understand, and he enclosed his
address.

Jacques was shaken. For a moment he thought that it was just a fantasy
tale of a sick mind, but reading the letter again he was convinced that
it was sincere. So he took paper and pen and answered to that boy a
several pages long letter, he trying to tell him what he felt while
reading the letter. He tried to pour into the letter all his humanity,
because he understood that the boy still must have been shocked by the
discovery he had been sexually used by his own father. According to
Jacques it was more than having had sexual intercourse with his father,
it was the fact he had been used that way, like an object, that had
shaken the boy. He then concluded inviting the boy to write to him
again, care of the magazine, if he wanted. He excused himself not to
send him his own address, but he explained that there was a clause in
the contract with the magazine forbidding him to give away his own
address.

That story put him in a bad mood. For sure he after all was lucky,
compared to Fabien, he sadly thought. If not other thing, he had his
love, even if necessarily idealistic with his "Paul". He went to see if
by chance he was in his aquarium. Usually he wasn't there in the
afternoons, but... He looked in his telescope and saw him. He was naked,
sitting on his bed his back to the window, doing nothing. It seemed he
was looking at the shower door. Jacques, with a pang in his heart,
understood: soon the shower door opened and a naked boy, more or less
the same age of his "Paul", came out smiling and went towards the bed
where Paul was waiting. He saw the unknown boy climbing the bed to
embrace Paul. Jacques felt a confusion of contrasting emotions stirring
up in him. So, his Paul was gay, and that couldn't but please him. And
now he was about making love with that boy, and that aroused in him an
absurd jealousy. He thought to stop looking, but something kept him
glued to the telescope.

The two boys were caressing each other little by little highen the
reciprocal pleasure. The caresses were steadily becoming more intimate,
but they weren't ready to unite. They enjoyed long preliminaries, they
looked at each other, the touched each other, they fingered, and
continued to mutually arouse in a long erotic play. At least the unknown
boy leaned between the spread thighs of his Paul and started to give him
long licks on his turgid genitals. Paul widened his legs while leaning
on his back, evidently enjoying the other's attentions. The boy now took
Paul's genitals between his cupped hands, swallowing the powerful rod
and starting to move his head up and down in a slow regular movement.
Jacques was fascinated but at the same time his jealousy increased at
the same pace of Paul's excitation. He wanted to be him there to be
lavish with those attentions to his boy! He wanted to be him, leaning
quite in adoration, over that throbbing phallic meat totem, to give
pleasure to his Paul. Then he saw his boy's guest standing up on the
bed, going astride Paul's pelvis, then lowering, crouching with the
clear intention to impale himself with that stake. He went down with his
body, driven by Paul's hands, until the contact was established. For a
moment the two boys remained still, quite to prolong the wait for the
fatal moment. Jacques quivered, lowering the elastic belt of his
sweatpants and grasped at his hard-on. He waited too. The boy started to
push down and took into himself Paul's rigid peg. Jacques could see the
expression on his beloved's face and a silent tear shone in the corner
of his eye. Other tears followed when he saw that boy starting to spring
up and down his own body, while Paul was caressing his sides and
stomach. He wanted to be him over there. He wanted to be with him! Then
he thought that his poor legs wouldn't have allowed him to be taken that
way, that his body wasn't beautiful like that of the unknown boy that
was making love with Paul. And the tears were so many that his sight
became blurred. He could no longer see what the two boys were doing. He
just masturbated, almost with anger, crying about his own powerlessness,
his solitude, his jealousy. He came, and very nearly missed the
handkerchief he had ready so not to get all dirty. He put his clothes in
order, dried his tears with the back of his hand and resumed to look
through the telescope. Now they had changed position. The other was on
his fours and Paul, kneeling behind him, took him with strong pushes
full of vigour. Jacques couldn't help but to admire the beauty of his
Paul's body in action. He quite didn't see the other boy, and he was not
interested in him. But Paul, hurled in a strong and regular rhythm,
seemed to him the quintessence of virile beauty. He admired him bowing
his trunk back, pushing his pelvis back and forth, guessing the orgasm
was about to shake him. He saw him bend forward, superposed to the other
boy's body that went limp on the bed. He saw him let himself go on the
other, still deeply sinked into him, saw him holding the boy tightly
while lightly biting into his back and his neck. Then he saw them move
away, lie down with they bodies parallel, caressing each other. Paul's
body was near the glass window and almost hid the other's body. Jacques
saw the other stand up, leave the bed, lean to kiss his Paul on the
mouth, and dress again while Paul remained on his bed to relax. Now
dressed, the other boy approached the bed and sat on the edge, near
Paul, caressed his chest, his genitals that were going back to rest and
said something...

---o---

"Did you enjoy it, Alain?"

"Yes, I like you."

"So, you want to be with me again?"

"But I can't bring you home. The governess asked for today off and
usually there is always somebody at home."

"Can't we meet somewhere else?"

"Of course. I know a small hotel."

"Good. When?"

"I don't know. Soon, I hope. We will meet at the gym, OK?"

"Sure. I'm glad I came to try it. I've heard very good opinions about
your gym, but I didn't know if it was true...but it's perfect! I mean, I
didn't think I could find somebody like you right the first time. I like
how you fuck."

"But Patrick, you always hook up the way a person you like?"

The boy laughed, ruffled Alain's hair and answered: "Yes. And as you
see, at times it's fun."

"It's the first time that a boy I thought about seducing comes up to me
and asks me if I feel like having sex with him, after just five minutes
we met and even before introducing ourselves. How could you know I
wouldn't have punched you in the face?"

"I don't know, I just took a chance. To tell the truth sometimes I did
have to fight, but rarely. At most they send you to hell. (not sure what
you mean here) But I liked you too much, you really are my type, and I
thought that from you everything would have been welcomed. Even if what
I had a little before was a lot better. You know that you have a really
nice tool, and that you really know to use it."

" Patrick, you like just to be a bottom?"

"And to give head. Expecially to somebody like you."

"And why?" Alain amused asked.

"Bah! The first time I got fucked in my mouth and in my ass was at
fourteen... I enjoyed it so much... and after that, that was all I
desired..."

---o---

Jacques saw Paul dress and go out of the room with his friend. He
watched them talk: how much would he have loved to be able to hear what
they were saying. Words of Love? Were they lovers? Who knew... He went
back to his computer and added several pages about his discovery that
even his Paul was gay, but that he had another boy, and then he wrote
about his jealousy. He worked on the text, completely engrossed, until
evening, without realizing of the passage of the time. To write his
sentiments had helped him to rationalize them, to attenuate the storm
that arose inside him. When Jacques started to watch the boy again, he
was back in his room. Jacques realized the coincidence that his secret
love was gay made see him with different eyes: now he seemed more
beautiful and more desirable. He also thought smiling, that he had
forgiven his Paul for having a boyfriend.

Anyway in the following days he didn't see his "rival" come back in the
room, and he was glad about that. He never tired to watch his Paul, and
in a few days he reached the definitive draft of his new novel: he liked
it very much, it was the best thing he wrote until now. He stopped to
correct it and spell check it, he duplicated the floppy, wrote a short
accompanying letter and sent all to his publisher. The answer came
immediately. His publisher loved the novel and wanted to publish it for
Christmas. But he asked him also the continuation of that story, seeing
that the novel would be a success. Jacques smiled: yes, he knew, inside
his heart, that there will be a continuation, until "his boy" lived
there and he could continue to look at him...

---o---

Alain was rather happy with his new relationship. Patrick was the son of
a very rich family, but was simple, likeable and merry. He knew that
Patrick had also other relations and this also fitted him well: he felt
more free that way. Patrick told him about his first time at the
boarding school. He had become the boy of an older student, Jean Luc,
that had taught him to have sex and that took him daily in the school's
attic. One day Jean Luc approached him with a companion. He introduced
them and then just simply told Patrick to "Go upstairs with him". Then
another one, and more... Once they went in the attic in threes and
Patrick felt the need to be penetrated in his mouth and in his ass at
the same time and he loved it very much. When he was seventeen, he was
told that now he could have a copy of the attic key and that he could
look for his own boy. It was the only one time he tried to be a top (a
"man" as the boys said) but he understood that he liked lot more to be a
bottom (a "lad" that is). The other "men" were not at all reluctant to
continue to fuck him. When eighteen he left the school and his tenth of
lovers. For a while he felt lost. He wanted a male. He liked the boy at
the coffee shop where often he stopped, so one day he decided to ask
him:

"You are Antoine, right?"

"Yes, Monsieur Patrick."

"Look, Tony, for a while I've watched you. You know you're a really
handsome boy? What do you think about making love with me?"

"You are joking, monsieur Patrick, ain't you?" the other answered
visibly blushing.

"Not at all. I would like you to fuck me."

"You mean you want me to..."

"Yes, I'd like to give you head, and then to be fucked in my ass from
you. Only, I don't have a place... I've got a hard-on, you know..."

"I have a place..." the young man said without looking at him and
blushing again.

"Very good. So, when?"

"Can you come after I'm off work? At four o'clock?"

"Sure. See you later, Tony."

The boy brought him to his boarding room. He was well endowed and rode
Patrick for a long while. The boy was a bisexual and had a girlfriend,
but during his service in the army he was paid by some john for sex and
he discovered that side of sexuality finding he enjoyed it, so now he
never refused if an opportunity came. Seeing the success of that first
approach, Patrick tried again. His second man had been a taxi driver
that, being gay and liking Patrick, had accepted immediately. The third
one had insulted him, the fourth tried to beat him up. But now Patrick
had no more problems. If he liked very much somebody, if just he had the
chance to speak to him in private, he told him straight that he wanted
to have sex with him. Several refused, somebody even in a bad way, but
others, who for the sake of curiosity, who for pleasure, accepted. So
Patrick wasn't lacking partners.

---o---

Jacques received the proofs to correct and the proposal for the cover: a
jacket with wisteria light purple with a pearl gray circle with a
drawing of a naked boy in the style of Jean Cocteau at the center,
outlined in gold. Jacques loved it even because, even though his novel
didn't tell about his telescope nor how he could "see" his Paul, that
drawing reminded him of the telescope which he framed the beautiful
figure of his boy. He sent back everything to his publisher. At the
beginning of November his novel was published, publicized and reviewed
in "Gay Pied" and other gay magazines and for sale in all the bookstores
having a gay section. For Christmas many copies were sold and he
received his first cheque. It seemed that the book was really a success
and even some non gay bookstores started to sell it. The publisher wrote
to him asking if he started writing the continuation of that successful
story. Jacques had opened a new folder in his computer, calling it, that
time "Paul-01" and had written several pages. He also received, through
the magazine's editorial office, several letters, along some with about
his new novel. But despite all the letters, one made him really happy:
Fabien wrote him again. The boy thanked him for his answer. In fact, he
wrote, he didn't have a crisis because of his homosexuality, that he
accepted serenely, but just because, as he had guessed, his father had
used him like a plain pleasure object... or slave. This made him
understood that it was not right for him to sell his body: in fact, if
he was selling himself to unknown people, he was the first to consider
himself an object. No, he wasn't upset with his father, but with
himself. So he had decided to change his life. But now he asked him,
could a pimp, or an ex-pimp, think he could make a normal life, and find
a lover accepting him with trust and esteem? Didn't he get marked,
stained, dirty forever? Who could possibly accept loving an ex-pimp? Who
could possibly believe in his love? If by chance he could find a lover,
did he have to confess his past or to hide it? But in hiding it, if the
other found out about it, what could be worse? And if instead he
confessed it, wouldn't the other refuse him? But, above all, could he
really be able to give real love, after being a prostitute?

Jacques started to write him again, and again it was a very long letter
where he spoke to him with open heart and encouraged him to face life
with a serene confidence...

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 04

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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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