Date: Mon, 14 May 2001 23:41:27 +0300
From: Jason <jason24@plovdivcityguide.com>
Subject: Roaming the hills

Warning: This story contains graphic sex between adult males.  If you are
under the age of 18 or your country or state does not allow this sort of
literature to be read, please read no further.  If you are offended by sex
between adult males, please leave now.  Otherwise, enjoy the story and
remember that it is at least partly a work of fiction.  You decide which
part.  If you have any comments or suggestions don't hesitate to e-mail me:
jason34@plovdivcityguide.com.

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

I am an American making my home now in Plovdiv, Bulgaria, a city built 500
years B.C. by the ancient Thracian people.  Plovdiv sits on seven hills
rising from the Plain of Thrace between the Rhodope and Sredna Gora
mountains. In its history, the city has been plundered several times, but
has continuously survived into its third millennium. Although nearby
Macedonia remains an area of conflict, since before the Second World War,
Bulgaria has been the Balkan exception; a mixed culture living in very
peaceful harmony.

Three of the hills originally settled are now known as Old Town
Plovdiv. Another smaller hill has disappeared beneath construction of the
modern city.  On these hills of Old Town you can walk among the 2,500 years
old fortress walls of the original town or you may sit for a coffee in the
2,344 years old Philippopolis Ampitheatre. Old Town Plovdiv experienced a
renaissance during the 19th century, following Bulgaria's liberation from
500 years of Turkish rule, and this part of Plovdiv is now set aside as a
national museum town.  The three remaining hills are nature reserves or
parks and part of this story is set upon one of these hills.

It had been a hot summer day and it seemed I had spent the entire afternoon
meeting and visiting with friends.  We would gather in small groups of two
or three, either on the benches under the shade of trees near the fountain
in front of the city building on Plovdiv's "Main Street" or drinking
coffee, juice or beer under the umbrellas and awnings of the many cafes
there.  Plovdiv's "Main Street" is a wide pedestrian mall.  The fast-food
places like McDonald's and KFC are located here, also an assortment of many
sweet shops, bars and cafe's along with the main post office and the
telephone building.  It would not be an understatement to say that this
area has more foot traffic than any other part of the city.

I took particular delight in this favorite summer afternoon pass-time
because invariably there was a large number of the darker-skinned gypsy
boys wandering the Main Street, often without shirts and flaunting their
well-muscled chests.  A few of my friends knew and tolerated my unspoken
passion for these forbidden guys, but it was always a silent admiration on
my part, so not to cause any one of my Bulgarian friends any
embarrassment. Sometimes I would look up into a friends' eyes and see him
watching me with a knowing silence as he smiled to himself, seeing my eyes
following and lusting after the gypsies.

Our conversations ranged from latest gossip about "neighborhood folks" to
the sometimes rather cruisy remarks about the many very attractive guys who
might walk past.  Some of these guys would even smile or perhaps stop to
talk for a few moments, exchanging telephone numbers always with a promise
to call later when not so busy.  One in particular, a strikingly handsome
young man named Hristo (Christo in English) seemed to be in no hurry to
move on to other things and he stayed to talk for a while with myself and
Boris, another of my good friends.  The conversation became a bit more
guarded, moving into generalities.  As the Friday afternoon became evening,
a cooling breeze finally began to blow from the western mountains.  Boris
decided to walk back toward the Post and excused himself with a glance
toward Hristo, then a smile and a wink at me.

I began to think about going home out of the heat.  Hristo seemed content
to talk with me; his English was exceptionally good.  With Hristo, the
conversation was more about life in general; the usual questions about the
USA, why I decided to come to Bulgaria, and our work.  It seemed that both
of us had some interest in photography and Hristo knew many places around
Bulgaria that my camera had not yet found and he offered to go with me some
day to explore.  Quite close to the cafe where we sat was the building of
one of Plovdiv's radio stations and up the hill named Sahat was their
transmitter tower. Sahat is actually a twin-peak; the radio-tv tower on
one, and the oldest Turkish clock tower in Europe (built about 1297) sits
on the other.  Some hooligans had removed the bell from the clock tower a
year or more ago, but the tower remains intact.

After so many coffees, cokes, and glasses of juice, I really wanted to find
a water closet (restroom) and began to fidget a little.  I saw there was
one close enough to the cafe where Hristo and I sat, but because there were
so many people about, it seemed a bit too public for me at the moment.
Most of the Bulgarian guys I know are very pee-shy; maybe after a year, I
began to think as they do.  I knew that another water closet stood near the
clock tower at the top of the hill and I needed the walk; anyhow it would
be cooler at the top of the hill.

I decided that this was the plan.  It would be a much more private and
intimate place for further talk ... maybe some exploration.  I paid the 2,
40 Leva (about $1.20 in US Dollars) for our two beers and we began to
slowly walk up the hill.  As we passed the Restaurant Sahat Tepe, I
suggested that this might be a good place to take some dinner before the
evening was finished, as I was really in no mood to think about going home
to cook ... food.  Hristo enthusiastically agreed, indicating that he had
no other plans.

I wondered to myself about this young, very handsome guy who seemed alone
on a Friday night with nothing much to do.  As we walked, I asked about his
other friends and he said that he had recently come to Plovdiv from a small
town north in the Sredna Gora mountains and knew almost no one here.  "Have
you a girlfriend in Sopot?" I asked.  Maybe he felt a bit embarrassed by
the question, or perhaps thought that his answer would seem strange, but he
replied honestly that he had not.  He had lived with his mother until
deciding to make a try at Plovdiv life, Hristo explained.  I knew that this
is not at all strange for young Bulgarians.  The wages in the smaller towns
are low - if decent work can be found at all - and they have no opportunity
to take a place on their own, so they live with their parents. Perhaps this
was the only beneficial result of the years under communism - that almost
every family had been able to take ownership of their own home in a plan
worked out by the democratic government that took power. Eventually these
younger people find their way to Plovdiv or Sofia and a chance for a better
life.

We passed or met very few other people walking on this nearly-deserted
cobblestone street and turned to go up the steps and the walkway beyond
which would lead us exactly to the saddle of the hill.  Hristo was a
charmer; he had dark brown hair, blue eyes and all the enthusiasm of
innocent youth, although he was in his middle 20s.  He confided to me
later, on one dark and cloudy day, that he wished it would rain because
there was nothing he enjoyed more than walking in the rain.  Most of the
people we saw were better-dressed professional men, maybe out for a walk
before going home.

Finally reaching the top, I indicated the water-closet on our left and that
I really needed some relief.  Hristo smiled and said "Me too!" and we went
in together.  The sight that met our eyes was almost comic.  There was a
guy in suit and tie with his slacks dropped to his ankles, being ass-fucked
by a younger dark-haired guy.  Hristo and I looked at each other, smiled,
and I moved to the urinal to piss.  Waiting his turn, Hristo seemed to be
enjoying the show being played in front of him and had reached to take the
steel-hard cock of the guy being fucked and was slowly jacking him.

"So," I thought, smiling to myself, "...Hristo knows a few things!"  I
finished my piss, shaking off the last few drops and feeling my cock
becoming aroused by all this unexpected action, I walked around and knelt
in front of the guy, licking the head of his cock as Hristo pulled the
guy's foreskin back off the large, purple head.  Hristo fed the guy's cock
to me, and I opened my mouth wide to take it all in.  With his hand to the
back of my head, Hristo let me know that it was all mine to enjoy and he
stepped aside to take his turn at the urinal.  The guy doing the fucking
began to moan and with a few sharp jabs, finished himself off.  Before he
could pull out, however, the cock fucking my mouth burst in a torrent of
sweet, hot cum.  I held onto his balls, savoring the surge of man-juice and
felt the younger guy pull out.  "Ah...", the man in the suit exclaimed, and
he put his hands on my shoulders, then pulled away from me, pulled up his
pants and left.  Hristo finished his piss, and turned - with his cock in
his hand - to face me. The younger guy who had been doing the fucking
pulled the condom off his dick, smiled at us and tossed it to a corner of
the water-closet.

"They call me Krassi", he said to both of us in Bulgarian, "See you later!"
and he left.  I got to my feet and told Hristo I needed a cigarette.  "And
probably you're ready for dinner, now that you have had an appetizer," he
laughed.  Although I appreciated his effort at humor of the situation, I
had really anticipated building a long, slow game with this guy and the
sudden way that the cards had been dealt was a bit of an upset to me.  I
could see that there were still rewards to be had, perhaps a bit greater.
I took out a Victory-light and offered to share the pack with Hristo.  He
took one, started to light it, and the flint-wheel flew off his cheaply-
made Bulgarian lighter.  Offering my Bic to him, I smiled and said
"American."

We walked over to the statue of Hristo Danov, placed upon Sahat as a
tribute to "The father of Bulgarian printing".  Putting my hand on the
statue's head, I commented, "Gee Hristo, you're hard as a rock!"  "Not so
bad now," he replied with a smile.  We could both see this might be an
enjoyable evening when this guy Krassi comes down from near the clock
tower.  "You are American?" he asked, speaking a rather halting English.
"Yes, I am.  My name is Jason," I told him.  "My friend Hristo just happens
to speak it very well."  We all stood around chatting for some time,
watching others come (no pun intended) and go in the early evening light.
For Krassi's benefit I spoke with a simpler vocabulary so as to not require
so much repetition or explanation and Hristo switched more to Bulgarian.
Because I mentally translate English to Bulgarian (or vis-a-vis) as I
speak, this was the easier way to converse.  The translation makes
conversation difficult and gets painful after some time.

By 9 o'clock I am starting to get really hungry and since it appears there
will be no easy walking away from Krassi, I suggest we all go to the
restaurant at the bottom of the hill for dinner, my treat.  Hristo readily
agreed and Krassi says he will go along, if only for something to drink.
This gave me some time to assess this unknown guy, Krassi, and I began to
see some hope for saving this Friday night and getting to know Hristo a lot
better.  I convinced Krassi to have a small salad and some fried cheese for
dinner.  Krassi was a construction laborer with no formal education, but
had a desire to improve himself, which explained his knowledge of basic
English. I paid the check and, since my apartment was only a few hundred
meters or so from the restaurant, I suggested we all go there for a glass
of gin and both guys happily agreed.

I took a bottle of gin from the shelves behind my place at the table and
brought glasses and a large bottle of tonic from the kitchen.  We filled
our glasses, raised and clinked them together with the Bulgarian toast,
"Nazdrave!" ("Here's to your health!"). Now that we were out of the public
scene, tensions loosened quickly and soon we were all three talking that we
would really like some sex, so I suggested we take our glasses and
cigarettes and go to the bedroom.  I was glad that the apartment had a
king-size bed as we all stripped naked.

"I want you both to fuck me," I told my new friends and knelt on the bed on
all fours and offered my ass. "No problem," Hristo said as he wrapped a
condom over his hard cock and positioned himself. As he started to push
into me, I glanced at Krassi slowly stroking his cock, waiting for his turn
to fuck. Hristo moaned and slowly pushed, and I felt him slide into me
until he was all the way in. Then he withdrew slowly, and shoved it all the
way back in. His cock felt so big inside my ass and I was again in complete
pleasure. Hristo kept moaning as he pumped his cock in my ass for all it
was worth. I turned my head to Krassi and told him to bring his cock over
so I could suck it.

Needing no more encouragement, Krassi quickly knelt in front of me and
pushed his cock toward my lips.  After a few moments, we all had reached
the same rhythm; Krassi was feeding me his cock in nice even motions, and
Hristo kept the same pace by shoving his cock into my ass. Although for
Krassi I was his second man in just a few hours, he was obviously as ready
for sex as Hristo and myself.  Krassi reached under and grabbed my cock and
started stroking it.  This only made me want Hristo to go harder and
faster.  Hristo seemed to understand what was going on and I could feel his
cock beginning to swell deep inside my ass.

I knew Hristo couldn't hold out much longer as he was watching Krassi's
cock pistoning my mouth.  Then Hristo almost shouted that he was ready to
finish and I pushed back harder and faster against his cock.  With one
long, last moan, he unloaded as I kept slamming back against his cock.
Clearly now in a hurry, Krassi moved to take Hristo's position, unwrapping
a condom over his cock and shoving his hard cock up my ass.

There was hardly time for one breath before Krassi had taken Hristo's
place. He immediately slammed his cock all the way up my loose ass.  With
no wasted time at all, I could feel and hear his balls slapping against my
ass. Recovered a bit, Hristo bent down; I thought he only wanted to get a
close look at the action but he took my cock in his mouth and starting
sucking.  My cock was being forced into his throat by the slamming action
of Krassi shoving his cock up my ass and it felt great.  While Krassi kept
up the fucking motion, he reached over me and inserted a finger up Hristo's
ass.  "Mmmmmm," Hristo moaned as Krassi finger- fucked him while he sucked
on my cock at the same time.

"Oh man, I'm ready to finish" yelled Krassi.  "Here it comes
.... OOOOffffffff!!"  Now I could feel Krassi's cock surge as he spent his
load up my ass. But he didn't stop the fucking motion and I felt my own
load getting ready to pop. Hristo sucked harder on my cock and Krassi used
his other hand to squeeze my balls as I fucked Hristo's face. Hristo pulled
off my cock, took it in his hand and jerked me off with about only a couple
of strokes before I shot a jet of cum that landed on Hristo's
shoulder. Several other shots went over his hand and landed on his chest as
he continued to jerk my cock and Krassi continued to fuck my ass. At last
the action started to slow down until Krassi collapsed onto the bed with me
and Hristo all in a tangle. All of us were sweating and moaning in
exhaustion and ecstasy.

I kept a towel handy at the bedside and Hristo saw it.  He wiped away the
evidence of my excitement, tossed the towel over to one side, picked up my
glass of gin and tonic and offered it to me.  In near-record time, Krassi
had slipped back into his worker's clothes, finished off his gin and was
ready to leave.  Hristo and I were not in such a hurry and I really wanted
Hristo to spend the night.  So I got up, slipped on my boxers and saw
Krassi to the door.  Hristo was right behind me, also in his boxers and
together we wished Krassi a good night.


If you enjoyed this, let me know.  Better still, I would welcome
suggestions of how to continue stories of my adventures here in Plovdiv,
Bulgaria.  You can read another of my stories in this section of the Nifty
archive entitled "Mitko" and read more about Plovdiv and see some of the
sights of this ancient city, including a section on "The Hills of Plovdiv"
at www.plovdivcityguide.com. Your thoughts and ideas are always welcome at
jason24@plovdivcityguide.com.