Date: Fri, 21 Jan 2000 21:49:12 +0900
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: son 05

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I, THE PRESIDENT'S SON
by Andrej Koymasky
Written on March 23, 1995
translated by the Author
English text kindly revised
by Richard

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USUAL DISCLAINER

"I, THE PRESIDENT'S SON" 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 welcome guest.

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

FIFTH -- Probation in Paris

Anyway, it was decided. They got me the enrollment for the following
school year at Paris University. The French Government, as foreseen, put
some conditions to my residence in France, dictated by their concern for
my safety, they said. Among them, I had to advise their Security Service
about any movement more than fifty kilometers, that is about thirty
miles, giving them dates, places and so on.

It was also decided that Bruce would accompany me to Paris. That last
condition annoyed me very much, but in the end I thought I had to make
the best of things. But I steadfastly refused to sleep in the university
dorm and managed to get them to rent a normal apartment for me. They
accepted this, I am sure, because they could rent two neighboring
apartment, one for Bruce who could more easily check on me.

A few days prior to my departure, my father summoned me. He gave me a
lecture about my responsibilities, then he asked me not to create more
problems than I already had. All this in a very civilized way, with the
tone of "gentlemen's agreement". I answered that I had no intentions
raising problems, but that I simply wanted to live my life and, I
underlined with force, my sexuality.

"Anyway," I added, "with your program in favor of Gays, you wouldn't be
biased in your judgement against your son, would you?"

He didn't appreciate: "Those concessions were wrung from me, I assure
you!" he grumbled irritated.

At last we set out. On the plane, Bruce had the seat next to mine.

Soon after the take off, he said: "Dave, we will have to almost live
together for a long while. Don't you think it would be better for both
of us to try not to make each other's lives a hell?"

"It's you who is making my life a hell."

"That's not my intentions, believe me. I am just doing my job, I have
nothing against you."

"So also the Nazis brought to trial in Nurnberg justified themselves
declaring they just carried on their duties." I harshly retorted.

"Dave, really... if you just trusted me... You are Gay and neither you
nor I can do nothing about that. You want to quietly live your sexuality
and I think you are within your rights. But unhappily for you, you are
not a commoner, therefore..."

"It was not I who chose to be born in my family, therefore the
responsibility is not mine. Remember what I told you -- if you put
spikes in my tires, I will raise more than just a scandal. What do you
think, for instance, if during an interview in live broadcast I declared
I am Gay and my father tries to prevent me to have my private life, in
spite of his declarations pro the Gay community?"

"Don't talk nonsense, you couldn't do such a thing!" Bruce said looking
at me in alarm and going pale.

"Not unless I am forced to. It depends on you, not on me."

"Dave, really... seriously..."

"Yes, seriously. While in Paris I want to be able invite to my home
whomever I want, to my bed to be more clear!"

"Yes, Dave, if he is not somebody who... Do you understand, a
blackmailer or somebody paid to raise a scandal..."

"And how can I know that in advance? And in any event, it's enough he
doesn't know who I am, isn't it?"

"You appeared on the TV, in the newspapers. Even if we are not in our
country, they can always know, you understand, connect. Just your family
name will be enough for..."

"So then, what do you propose, tell me? Do you want be the one to find
the right companions for me?" I asked angrily.

"No, surely not, but... If you really find the right companion, it will
not be me to put obstacles in your way, that's for sure."

"And on the basis of what will you decide if he is the right one or
not?"

"I will do some checking."

"Yeah, can you imagine that? I meet one I like and I tell him 'sorry,
can you give me your data, so that my watchdogs can investigate you and,
if they give me the green light, we can fuck'. How can you be so silly?"

Bruce was about to give me a sharp answer, I'm more than sure, but chose
to keep silent. He had to feel my grudge against him -- without a doubt
I didn't like him at all. I watched the movie, just not to be forced to
carry on our conversation. Bruce instead started to read a book. Then
they gave us a meal. Silence between us was becoming a bit heavy, but I
purposefully didn't intend to talk with him.

Just before landing at the De Gaulle airport. Bruce broke the silence:
"We will soon arrive. We will be accompanied to the VIP room."

"Can't we avoid that?"

"No. Once there we will meet the men of the French Secret Service,
that's part of the agreement, you understand."

"No, I don't understand but in any event, even if I didn't want it, my
opinion has no weight, right?"

"It is their country, they set the rules. Somehow, if by chance some
accident happened to you in France, they will feel responsible towards
our country, do you understand?"

"Stop repeating 'you understand, you understand'!" I retorted dryly.

I was received with deference and we were accompanied to the VIP room
where they gave me the welcome with a long and boring speech in my
language, spoken almost perfectly. Then they started to explain me what
they would do for my security and what they were expecting from me. I
feared worse than they asked, even if I continued to envy the common
people. Why my father wasn't a simple bank clerk? Then they talked with
Bruce, my "connection" with them.

We left without passing through customs. In a ministerial car we were
taken to our Embassy. Here more greetings and two words with the man of
our secret services. Then, at last, this time with a car of the Embassy,
we were accompanied to the apartments they rented for me and Bruce.

My apartment was composed of a foyer, a small reception room, a more
than adequete kitchen, a den or office, a living room for formal
affairs, bedroom and bathroom. It was fairly large, on the sixth and top
floor of an old building downtown. There was also a broad terrace on the
roof, that I immediately liked very much. The weather was splendid and
from there it was possible to see the old part of the capital. The
apartment was wrapped around three sides of the terrace. Bruce apartment
was on the same floor, but overlooked the street. There were no other
apartments on that floor. There was a very modern elevator, the car, all
glass, at the center of the semicircular stairway.

But above all, there was no watchman, and I appreciated that. The
apartment was all furnished with new pieces, of a modern design, not
beautiful nor bad. There was the telephone, two TV sets and a stereo.
The fridge was already full and in the kitchen there was everything one
could need to cook and to eat. In the closet the linen, in the toilet
the toilet paper and in the bathroom all one could need for the personal
hygiene. In short, it was ready to live in.

My luggage was brought up. Bruce told me that he would come back later
and went to his apartment to settle in. I undid my luggage and put my
belongings in order. I would live there for some years, so I would
gradually personalize it. I didn't certainly lack money, my father
granted me a good monthly allowance that would be sent to a bank account
they already opened at my name -- I had just to go to deposit my
signature.

They told me that I could eat at home or out as I liked and that each
morning a "dependable" person will come to clean my apartment and that
of Bruce while I was at the university. I was sure that the "dependable"
person they chose would nose in my things when I was not home, that it
was somebody paid by, or even a member of our secret service.

All the same I was determined to carry on my life as I wanted. The bed
was small double bed. I smiled to myself -- they chose a compromise
between the single bed I feared to find and a double bed I hoped for? I
plunged on it, the mattress was as I liked, not too soft and straight.
And in the closet there was a soft feather quilt. I just found somewhat
odd the cylindrical pillow, like a huge salami, but it was not bad.
"Soon you will host others bodies, beside mine!" I thought with a secret
pleasure caressing the mattress near me.

With my things put away, I went to shower. I was barely out of it, when
the door bell rung. I pulled on my bathrobe and went to open it. Of
course it was Bruce. He asked me if I wanted to go out to eat or if I
would rather fix something at home.

"I don't know, I've not yet decided."

"Regardless, tomorrow morning we will go to the bank, then to the
university."

"We?" I asked making him understand I didn't see why he had to come with
me.

"At least for the first time -- also an official of the Embassy will
come with us."

"Good, so much more I don't see why you have to tag along."

He looked at me seriously, then said: "All right as you like. You really
don't want to put an end to hostilities, right Dave?"

"It was not I who started them."

"Nor I, I can assure you. Anyway..."

"Come in!" I said moving aside to let him enter. He seemed hesitant,
then entered. I had him sit on the drawing room. "So, what are your
intentions?"

"It depends from the intentions you have." he answered sitting down.

I sat in front of him. On purpose I let my bathrobe open a little in
front, to provoke him. He never looked between my legs, but I knew he
was conscious of my half exposed nakedness.

"What are my intentions? To find some handsome boy to take in my bed, or
taking me in his own."

"And how?"

"I don't know. Going to dances at Gay discos, I presume. How will you do
it, to find a girl for yourself? Going to dance, attending the places
that girls attend, right? To find a boy is not so easy, if you don't go
where men looking for men go."

"Yes, but..."

"Listen, I never went in a Gay club, I never could until now. I don't
even know if I will like them or not. But I have to start somewhere.
Unless you have a better idea, besides looking for a hustler for me."

Bruce didn't answer.

"If you are worried at the idea I can go cruising in the public
facilities or in the parks at night, you can sleep between two pillow,
I'm not at all attracted at the idea. I too have absolutely no
intentions to find myself in trouble. And I will for sure not go around
telling who I am. Rather, if I could, I'll like to change my name, I
swear." I said.

He nodded but was thoughtful.

"Listen, I can't change my name, not officially at least. But I can put
another name at my door, use another name when I go around."

"No, it would just become a problem -- at school you have to use your
own and... no,"

"Well, if someone connects my name with that of my father, I can say
it's just a boring coincidence."

"Unhappily you resemble too much to your father, you have the family
air. I don't believe it would work. Anyway, at the door, we can leave
the number as it is often the custom here and not to put on your name."

I didn't think of that possibility and I felt almost grateful to him for
that suggestion. About the fact I resembled my father, unhappily for me,
it was true. But...

"If I dyed my hair and if instead of the contact lenses I wore
glasses..." I said.

Bruce looked at me for a while, like studying me, then said: "Yes. Yes
you could do that, I think."

"And perhaps also letting my beard grow." I added already seized in my
fantasy about the best way not to be recognized.

"Anyway we will have to let the Secret Services know of these changes."
Bruce said at half voice, almost as if he feared my reaction.

"Well, that's your job, isn't it?" I said shrugging my shoulders -- that
was an unavoidable evil.

It seemed that Bruce's attitude was a little more friendly. I asked
myself it it was just scene in my favor or if... I decided to try him.

"Anyway, I decided to go out for supper. Alone. I'll go somewhere around
here, not far. I don't think I can find a nice boy so, on the spot, but
if it happened I want to be free to hook him and eventually to take him
home." Bruce didn't react. "You say nothing?" I teased him.

"I just hope you will be prudent and that I don't need to clean it up it
afterwards. Anyway, what can I do? I am between the devil and the deep
blue sea, so to speak. You are determined to have your way, and I have
to see that what you do doesn't enter in conflict with your father's
interests."

"You chose your job." I said him with the tone which told him, 'you
asked for it and now you keep it!'.

He nodded, then said in a low voice: "But I couldn't guess that..." and
stopped.

"That I am Gay? You can always resign, if this is too much of a burden
for you, can't you?"

"I watched you grow up, or possibly I have to say that in some ways I
raised you. Who knows why one becomes Gay and the other not?"

I laughed: "I don't think one becomes Gay. I think one is so, from
birth."

"Theories are many, but none serious or sure, or at least not absolute."

"Well, since one doesn't know why a person is Gay or not, one should
just take note of it."

"Right, if just it didn't stir up so many problems."

"The problems exist only for he who creates them for himself. I am happy
being Gay. Well, that is not quite right -- no more and no less happy
than being blond or tall or a male, anyway. I am Gay and that's that. I
have no regrets. Besides the problems are those that you, and the
society put on me."

Bruce didn't answer. He stood up: "Well, Dave. Anyway, even if my duty
weighs heavily on you, I would like that we could always communicate
like we just did. And that you didn't consider me as to a Nazi
criminal."

I smiled, satisfied that my accusation obtained its effect. "It's enough
for me if you don't think about me as a problem to eliminate." I
answered standing up at my turn and seeing him at the door. He gave me
his hand, almost as in a peace offering, I gave him mine.

It was not that evening, nor the day after, and neither in the
immediately following days that I managed to find somebody with whom at
last make love. And neither I did start to brazenly cruise, that's
certain. The next day, first I went in a barber shop where I changed my
hair style and dyed it a light brown, then we went to buy the glasses.
We went to the bank to deposit my signature, and then to the university.

The lessons weren't starting until a month later, so I began to explore
the city. One of the first things I did was to buy several gay magazines
and a gay guide at a newspaper stand downtown. These simple acts gave me
a strong sense of freedom -- it was almost a symbol, for me, of a
change. Nobody knew me and the people watching over me did it with
discretion. In any event, inside myself I decided not to worry about my
controllers and to live as if they didn't exist. At least as long as
they didn't get in my way.

I also bought a map of Paris and using the gay guide I marked out on the
map all the places where were gay clubs, saunas, pubs, discos or movies
and I marked them with highlighter of various colors. Then I hung the
map in the studio. I intended to visit all of them, at least once.

Then I also looked for a gym near my home -- I wanted to resume my
physical training to keep a good shape. I found one about a ten minute
walk from my apartment, of medium size, well enough equipped, and saw
that the majority of the clients were young as well as the instructors.
I enrolled and set up a schedule.

I was in Paris for a couple of weeks, classes had not yet started but I
already bought all the books of the list that the registrar gave to me.
I met Bruce from time to time, but we never again broached that subject
and anyway it is not as if we spent our time together. We were like two
neighbors just knowing each other and limiting themselves to greet each
other when they meet.

In the mornings around ten, from Monday to Friday, a young lady came to
clean my home, she did also the laundry, ironed and left around noon.
Her name was Josiane, she was about thirty year old, she was quiet,
efficient and spoke my language fluently and with a delicious French
accent. She had the house key, but before entering she always rung the
bell, possibly because she knew I hadn't yet begun classes at the
university and waited for me to open. She suggested to me, when I would
be no more at home when she came, to leave her a note on the kitchen
table if I desired something to be done before the usual or in a
particular way.

One of the first things I did as soon as I arrived in Paris was to write
to Rick. I soon received his answer -- he was really happy I was now
somewhat more free, he promised me that he would come to visit me, and
he asked me if I already found a companion. He was still with Klaus and
seemed happy. In his second letter he also sent me his picture with his
boyfriend.

I asked myself, if they came to see me, where could I have them sleep.
So I decided to change the sofa in the living room with a double divan
bed. I asked Bruce about it and he made the change. Another change I
made was to contact a landscape designer to have some green in the wide
terrace. For a reasonable amount of money, the terrace was transformed
in a kind of roof garden, with a bower between drawing room and living,
and with a kind of thick wall of bushes secluding the part of the
terrace in front of my bedroom. They finished it all just a few days. I
charged Josiane to water the garden.

And I also started my tour of the gay establishments. In a sauna I
finally had my first little adventure. A young man started to hang
around me, I liked him, and I let him understand it. He sat near me,
cornered me. While we were chatting, he stared to caress my thigh and I
was at once aroused. After a while he invited me to follow him in a
relaxing cubicle. We spread our wet towels on the mattress and started
making love. I really needed it, it was agreeable. At the beginning I
was slightly annoyed by the fact that from time to time somebody peeped
in from the curtain of the doorway, but soon I got used to that and
rather I was excited at the thought I could safely have sex spied by
lusty eyes.

When satisfied after a long sixty nine we left the cubicle, and he asked
me if we could meet again. I answered that I didn't think so. In fact I
still wanted to look around some more, attend other gay places, to chose
where I would go again. We didn't even introduce ourselves. After a
while I saw him approaching another boy as he had with me.

An effeminate young boy came towards me, greeted me and said: "I've
noticed you have a beautiful, big tool. I would like to be fucked by
you."

I looked at him somewhat amazed, I didn't expect so direct an approach.

"I'm just about to leave." I excused myself.

"What a pity! Don't you have at least five minutes? I would like at
least to give you head," he said slipping his hand under my towel and
fondling it, "I'm really good at it, do you know?" he added coyly.

"All right, but just five minutes." I at once surrendered, almost
without hesitation.

"Come, then." he said with a triumphant smile.

He led me in another cubicle, made me lie down and at once busied
himself on my member. He really was an expert!

When he saw I was fully aroused, he insisted: "Please, fuck me." he
begged.

It was a first for me and decided to try. I made him get on all four and
lay over him. He guided me inside him and I sank in his hot channel like
a hot knife in butter. It was great feeling him tossing and moaning
under me, even if for my taste he was too effeminate. But he was
nevertheless skilled with his hole and he gave me a great orgasm.

I went back home satisfied. My pilgrimage to the gay clubs continued
systematically. I felt like living in a dream. There, I could freely
flirt, court, and let them court me, and then also easily have pleasant
adventures. I never dreamed I could one day experience such a freedom,
even if just in the specialized places, be able to approach a man and
let him understand I liked him, I desired him, was for me a completely
new and pleasurable experience. Being approached and feel to be desired,
was exalting, ending up with somebody and following him at his place or
in a love hotel room, let him undress me, undress him, make love without
worry.

In the beginning I decided not to take home any of my occasional
partners. Not so much and not only out of prudence, but because I felt
that I would take to my home only someone with whom I was starting
something serious and not just a one night stand. And at the beginning I
was just interested in that. It was somewhat as if I wanted to make up
for lost time, for the time when I could only dream...

I was in France for a few months, I don't remember clearly, possibly
four or five, when I met Khaled. He was a boy from Morocco, really
handsome. He was two years older than I, also a university student. I
felt fascinated, besides his slender, strong and harmonious body,
besides his wide smile, by his dark eyes, luminous and deep that seemed
able to looks at you in the deepest of your soul.

I met him in a disco. He was dancing alone, and he was terribly sexy. I
felt attracted by him, so I started to dance in front of him, staring at
him. He smiled and continued to dance, but always facing me, caressing
me with his eyes. His eyes didn't abandon me a single moment, it was
evident he liked me and this aroused me very much. I smiled at him. He
smiled back. When I went to the bar to have a drink, he soon came at my
side. I smiled him again and asked him if I could offer him a drink.

"Yes, thank you. But only non-alcoholics..." he said, then added, "I'm a
good muslim..."

I didn't think him to be an Arab or a North African, rather a Latin.
This made me curious. We went to sit to a small table. While he was
slowly sipping his fruit juice, he asked me where I was from, if I was a
tourist, what was my name. He told me about himself -- he was studying
electronics at the university, he was living in an apartment he shared
with three young people of his same country, one a student like him and
the other two workers, and that he was the youngest of them all. I asked
him if also his mates were Gay.

He smiled: "In the Arab culture, a man would never admit he is Gay,
except for me. All have girlfriends, sooner or later they will most
certainly marry, they will be happy fathers and husbands, even if at
times they don't turn down a pretty boy. I am too old for them, anyway,
and have a too manly body."

"But, are you Gay?"

"Sure. And I like men, not boys."

"Am I too young for you?" I asked cunningly, with a smile.

"No, you are young but you are just OK. Do you already have a
boyfriend?"

"No, and you?"

"Neither. So, we both are free. What do you think about... do you have a
place?"

"No." I answered as usual.

"Then you can come at my place, if that's okay with you."

"But... and the others?"

"In my room I do what I like."

"Do they know you are Gay?"

"Sure. And they don't object. Are you coming, then?"

"Yes."

We went to his apartment. His mates were in the living room, we could
hear their voices speaking Arab. From the entrance, where a color
portrait of the Ayatollah Khomeini stood out, he bade me enter in his
room. "I'll just warn the others I have a guest, so they will leave us
in peace. I'll be quick, make yourself comfortable." he said with a
smile pointing at his bed, and left.

I looked around. The room was furnished in a mix of Arab and Western
style, rather agreeable even if with inexpensive objects. On his desk a
switched off computer and at its side a basket with fruits. In the
bookshelf several books in Arab, but also in French and English, those
last mainly of electronics, but also novels.

He came back, smiling like usual. He locked the door, put on some rap
music, came close to me and started to undress me and himself, in
silence. He gently pushed me on the bed and came on top of me. We made
love for a long while, with calm and with passion. I liked it very much.
When he made me understand he wanted me, I readily offered myself to
him. He took me with extreme gentleness and yet with virility and caring
to give to me too the utmost pleasure. He took me really for a long
while. I loved feeling his long and hard rod slipping back and forth
inside me with such might and gentleness at the same time. He did so
until we reached the orgasm together. And afterward he caressed and
kissed me for a long time, whispering me words filled with sweetness.

When I was preparing to leave him, I asked him if and when we could meet
again -- it was the first time I told someone, that I desired to meet
them again. I was a little disappointed when he said that in two days he
was going to Morocco.

"I'll stay there for a couple of months, but then, I'll come back. I too
would like to meet you again. If you come to that disco, we could meet
again."

I was even more disappointed. That was the classical sentence to say no,
I thought, or else he would have given me his telephone number or asked
mine. I didn't insist. He wanted to see me to the underground station.

Taking advantage of the fact that it was deserted, he gave me a fast
kiss and said: "It has been really great, thank you." and he went back
home.

Well, I thought to console myself while I was going back home, it has
been a really great adventure, anyway.

In the following days I went to the clubs I decided to continue to go,
those I liked better -- three or four bars and a disco, that one where I
met Khaled. I didn't go any more to the saunas -- there one went only to
fuck, and I was interested, now, to get friends. I also hoped, sooner or
later, to meet somebody with whom I could start a serious relationship.
Anyway, if I wanted more adventures, also in those clubs I chose I could
find them.

With Bruce, we met from time to time, mainly in the stairs, and we
swapped a few words. It seemed that the truce we established was holding
on. I was amazed that he didn't try to nose in my private life -- it was
true that anyway I was watched on (discretely but unfailingly) by the
French Secret Service with whom he was most certainly in contact. But I
was somewhat astounded, I didn't believe he wouldn't pry any more.

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 6

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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/

If you want to send me feed-back, please e-mail at

andrejkoymasky@geocities.com

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