Date: Wed, 27 Nov 2002 13:40:42 -0500
From: Jeff Allen <jeff_allen15@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Love of a Lifetime" Part 24

This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual
activities between males.  If you are not of legal age, reside in an area
where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality
and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.

The author retains all rights to this story.  No reproductions or links to
other sites are allowed without the permission of the author.

Note: I owe a special thanks to Robb for doing the final proofreading and
catching all those silly little errors that I missed.

LOVE OF A LIFETIME

PART 24

     When classes started the next week everyone was talking about the
vandalism in the dorms.  The first mystery was how someone had managed to
gain access to the locked dorm in the first place.  The prevailing theory
on campus was that whoever did it had a master key to the dorm.  Campus
Security and the state troopers were questioning everyone in the dorm and
nearby apartment complexes to see who had been around town at any time
during Christmas break.  They were spending a lot of energy, but didn't
seem to be any closer to identifying suspects than before.

     Justin and I settled in to our classes for the spring semester.  He
started dating a girl named Megan Frazier in our Intro to Philosophy class.
She was a beautiful girl with dark auburn hair, lively blue eyes, and a
beautiful, almost milky complexion.  She was nearly as tall as Justin with
a trim, athletic figure.  They really hit it off, and by the end of
January, Justin was spending most nights with Megan at her apartment.  That
left Larsen and me alone.  I think Larsen missed his company in the
evenings.  I know I did.

     Andy was busy learning the ropes of his new job and making connections
with all the right people in Evanston.  Several nights when I tried to call
in the early evening he wasn't home yet.  I'd leave a message on his
machine.  He'd return my call when he got in.  Sometimes that wasn't until
ten or eleven Chicago time.  I missed him a lot.  We made plans for me to
fly up for a visit over spring break.

     I advertised my old Subaru wagon for sale in the local newspaper, on
the web, and on the bulletin board in the student union.  I had a couple of
calls, but the callers lost interest when they heard how many miles I had
on the car.

     The first week of February I got a call from a guy with a European
accent that I couldn't really place.  He wanted to see the car so I made
arrangements to meet him the next afternoon before track practice.

     The guy was a knockout!  He introduced himself as Sergei Potanov.  He
was from St. Petersburg, Russia, and was an MBA student in the School of
Business.  He stood about 5'11" with a slender but not overly thin build.
He had straight medium length light brown hair that was parted slightly off
to one side of the center of his head.  He had a broad Slavic features with
natural blush spots high on each cheek bone.  His hazel-green eyes and
white teeth completed the picture.  His accent was cool.

     I showed him the car.  He seemed interested and wanted to take it for
a test drive.  I made the mistake of riding along with him.  I don't think
they require driver's training in Russia before getting a license.  He had
to be the worst driver I'd ever encountered.  I was shaking by the time we
completed the test drive and got back to the apartment.

     Sergei said that he wanted the car.  We haggled a little on the price.
I came down.  He went up.  We struck a deal.  He would pick up the car the
next afternoon.

     I made arrangements with Coach Kensington to miss practice that
afternoon, and Sergei showed up with a cashier's check for the car.  I took
the license plates off the Subaru which meant that Sergei would have to
ride with me to the Department of Motor Vehicles office to change the
title, get his plates, and turn in my old ones.  After my experience the
day before, there was no way on this earth I was going to get in a car with
him behind the wheel.  We got everything done at the DMV, and returned to
the apartment where we put his new plates on my old car.  I figured the way
he drove, it would be totaled within a week.

     "In Russia we celebrate business deals with vodka."  I loved listening
to his accent.

     "I'm sorry.  I don't have any."

     He smiled.  Dimples appeared on either side of his mouth.  "I have
vodka here."  He patted his book pack.

     We went into the apartment, and Sergei got acquainted with Larsen
while I got two glasses.

     I set the glasses on the table.  Sergei opened the vodka and poured
generous portions into both glass.  We toasted each other.  I sipped, and
he downed his.

     He refilled his glass.  "You must drink.  Not polite not to drink.
  You need to get drunk to celebrate selling car to me.  I need to get
drunk to celebrate having wheels.  Russians always finding reason for
getting drunk."

     We downed the glasses.  The vodka burned all the way down and made my
eyes water.  I knew I was going to be in trouble if this kept up.  I had to
think of some way to control the pace of our drinking.

     "Sergei, in this country it's customary for the host...that's me...to
pour the drinks.  We also use smaller glasses."

     "Da."  He pushed the bottle across the table to me.

     I rummaged around the cupboards trying to find smaller glasses.  We
only had one shot glass, but we did have some smaller juice glasses.  Those
would have to be better than the tumblers we had been using!

     I poured small amounts into the juice glasses.  A little more into his
glass than in mine.  We drank again.

     While I tried to slow down the pace of our alcohol consumption, we
talked.  I asked him questions about Russia and St. Petersburg.  He asked
questions about growing up in the United States.  By the time we were
halfway through the bottle we were on our way to becoming friends so I
invited him to stay for dinner.  I vaguely remembered that Justin was going
to be having dinner with Megan.  It would be just Sergei, Larsen, and me.

     I had some cube steaks in the refrigerator so I fixed country fried
steak with mashed potatoes, green beans, and biscuits.  I hoped the
potatoes and biscuits would slow the absorption of vodka into my system.
And while I was cooking I wouldn't have to keep drinking toasts.

     My plan didn't work completely.  I may have slowed down the process,
but by the end of dinner I knew I was well on my way to being drunk.
Sergei wasn't far behind.  Before giving in to the inevitable, I managed
one more moment of responsibility and told Sergei that he would have to
spend the night in the apartment.  No way was I going to be responsible for
turning him loose on the roads that night!  To my surprise, he readily
agreed to stay.  I poured another round making sure there was more going in
his glass than in mine.

     "Carter (he used my real first name because the combination of
C.Z. was too difficult by this time), I have two confessions."

     "Only two?"

     "Well, only two for tonight.  Maybe more some other time."

     "Okay.  What's the first confession."

     "I don't really like vodka."

     "What?  I thought all Russians liked vodka."

     "No, no.  We have vodka, so we drink vodka.  I like scotch and gin.
Martinis are very good."

     I thought that was hysterically funny, but then everything seemed
funny at that point in the evening.

     "Next time I sell you a car, we'll drink martinis."

     "Da.  We drink martinis!"

     "What's the second confession?"

     "Carter, when I am thinking of buying this car from you I ask my
friends if they know anything about you.  I want to discover if they think
you are honest person or not."

     I could feel myself sobering up rapidly.  "And?"

     "I find that you have reputation as good person.  Honest.  Also that
you are liking other men...how you say...gay."  He looked down at the table
when he said that.

     "Yes, Sergei.  I'm gay.  Does that make me less honest?"

     "No. No.  I am glad that you are liking men.  I hope that you are
liking me."

     His hand was wrapped around the glass.  I placed mine over his.  "You
mean you're gay also?"

     "Da.  Being gay is hard in Russia.  Is easier here, but I have been in
this country from August and have not found another person to be gay with.
It is very difficult for me."

     "Sergei, you're a good looking man, and your accent is just as cute as
it can be.  There should be lots of guys on campus who would want you."

     "But I do not want them.  I should not be telling you this.  I am
sorry."

     I pulled his hand away from the glass and held it in both of mine.
  "Don't be sorry.  I'm glad you told me."

     He finally looked up at me.  Our eyes locked and he moved slowly
closer and closer until our lips were nearly touching.  He stopped, and I
moved the other half inch to bring our mouths in contact.  We kissed for a
long time leaning across the table toward one another.  When we broke the
kiss I was in heat.  I blamed it on the vodka and the long absence from
Andy, but I wanted this boy...and right then!

     I stood up.  Without a word I went over and turned off the lights in
the apartment.  He watched me from the table as I moved around the room.  I
turned on the light in the bathroom and walked into my bedroom.  Sergei
followed.

     In the bedroom I slowly undressed him.  The light from the bathroom
gave just enough illumination so that we weren't fumbling around in the
dark.  His body was as slim as I had imagined and nearly hairless.  He had
some light hair in his armpits; his chest was completely smooth.  His
pectoral muscles were not well defined but still nice.  The dime sized
nipples stood out on his chest because of their darker color.  I bent down
and took first one and then the other in my mouth.  He took in a sharp
breath, but the nipples never became erect.  I knelt down and loosened his
belt.  He helped undo the buttons of his pants.  I slid the zipper down and
pulled his pants and boxers down to his knees.  His penis was about six
inches long and stood straight out from his body parallel to the floor.
  It emerged from a nest of brown pubic hair and sat atop a low hanging
scrotal sack.  I expected him to be uncut, and he was.  Even in his erect
state, his foreskin still covered most of the head.  I helped him free his
legs from his trousers and underwear.

     He sat down on my bed wearing only the socks on his feet.  He finished
unbuttoning my shirt and helped me ease it over my shoulders.  He leaned
forward and traced the narrow trail of dark blond hair running from my
navel to the belt of my pants with his tongue.  Without undoing my pants he
reached in and pulled my dick upwards until the end projected above the
level of my belt.  He proceeded to wash the tip of my dick with his tongue
as he worked on my belt.

     I finished undoing my pants and stepped out of them.  He pulled my
briefs down to my knees, and I somehow got them off the rest of the way
from there.  His mouth was now firmly planted over my cock, and his nose
was buried in my pubic hair.

     I pushed on his chest to make him lie down on the bed, and then I
moved my body around so we were in a sixty-nine position with me on the
top.  I licked around the edge of his foreskin and moved my tongue under
the rim before using my hand to peel the hood back from the head of his
cock.  I buried his sword up to the hilt in my mouth and began sucking for
all I was worth.  He was doing the same to my prick.  I came first.  I
stopped sucking on him during my orgasm pumping load after load down his
waiting throat.  Then it was his turn.

     I resumed sucking, and he came quickly.  Four quick jerks of his body
sent four jets of hot cum shooting to the back of my mouth.  His semen was
slightly bitter like concentrated vanilla flavoring.  I greedily swallowed
what he served.

     He pulled away from me and rotated his body so that our heads were
together.  We shared a single deep kiss, and then I fell asleep.

     Actually, passed out would be a better term.  I was dead to the world
until my alarm went off the next morning.

(To be continued)