MOSCOW, April 10, 2005 – The long-awaited miracle came true for me this morning: Zhorik and I had sex!
Well…maybe not exactly. What really happened was I barely touched his tumescent dick and he shot all over the room.
Well…maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. In any case, he came at the ministrations of my loving, gentle fingers, and I tasted his cum! I’ll settle for that!
I’m still walking around in unbelieving wonder! I didn’t even jerk him. I just touched his beautiful bursting cock and he erupted! Not even I, when I was 14, came that fast!
He was pretending to sleep through it, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t. How could he? How could anybody?
I guess Sasha was right: “Everybody loves to be seduced.”
There was nothing left for me to do but go to the bathroom and shed a few kilograms of my own exuberant gism!
Andrei had begged him to come to Moscow this weekend because they hadn’t seen each other for three months and Andrei was planning to leave today. So Zhorik arrived on the train yesterday morning. I spent the day teaching, came home and fixed their favorite supper, and about 11 p.m. they – Zhorik, Andrei, Sergei, and Denis – decided to “go walking.”
I worked on the computer till about midnight, then lay down at the edge of the bed and figured I’d let the bodies fall where they may, hoping against hope that maybe Zhorik would somehow find his way to my side. I heard them come in about 4, and when I got up to take a pee, they were all in the kitchen.
I came back and lay down and sometime later awoke to the realization that there was a body crowding me on the other side. Zhorik! My prayers had been answered! There’s only one way he could get that close to me. It was no accident. I figured he had hoped that by crowding me, he’d wake me up and we’d finish what I had started when he was first here back in August. But unfortunately by the time I woke up he had fallen sound asleep, and my straying hands got no response.
Andrei went to bed in Anton’s room and Sergei and Denis crawled in on the other side of Zhorik about 6 a.m. I had long since rolled onto my left side and was sleeping with my arm around Zhorik. I dozed and slept and finally about 8 a.m. woke big-time. Zhorik was lying on his back. I slipped my hand up under his shirt and stroked his chest and breast, then let my hand stray to his crotch. I thought I detected his heart beating faster. My little finger crept beneath his belt but feeling nothing, withdrew. Then I saw his jeans leap up and down a couple of times. I pressed my full hand under his belt a little harder and there it was: hard as a rock, leaping, jumping, begging.
It wasn’t as big around as I had remembered; rather it was long and slim. I nudged the skin back and stroked the head. His face showed nothing, but he was making no effort to safeguard his little prize, and it was persistently, proudly, bobbing up and down.
I withdrew my hand and searched for the zipper. Found it! I unzipped it a couple of inches and his dick leapt immediately out of his pants. I pulled the zipper another inch and reached in, taking his cock full into my hand. It was unremittingly hard. I was just asking myself, what would he do if I reached my tongue down to touch it, when the juice started flowing, then cascaded in a spurt of white magic; then another mighty spurt arcing up high onto his shirt! It happened so fast I didn’t have the presence of mind to catch it in my hand; had to settle for leaning over and licking as much as I could off his shirt.
Before I could zip his pants back up, he rolled over on his stomach. I would have liked to wash his shirt off, but he didn’t give me a chance. I held him tight for another minute or two, kissed the back of his shirt, and went to the bathroom to capitalize on my own bursting passion. I came almost as fast as he did!
Jesus! That was no coincidence! He had been waiting for that since 4:00 this morning. He was ready; on fire! I didn’t even have a chance to go through a jerking motion! Even Sasha never came that fast.
Do you realize this precious little bundle of electric orgasm is exactly one-fourth my age, that I’m four times as old as he is? That about the time he was born, I was getting ready to move to Seattle for what I thought would be the final stage of my life?
Question now is, will he ignore it? Deny it? Be ashamed of it?
Unfortunately I have to leave at 10 and won’t be back till 1:30, by which time he will be up and things – whatever they are – will already have happened.
Just yesterday he said his father wanted him to come to Moscow and finish his education here. We talked about his living here and finishing school. He was very happy about it. Will any of that change?
What I hope is that he will treat it as our secret and that it will strengthen the bond between us. It’s the only thing that’s been missing from our puppy love.
The reason Andrei isn’t leaving today is that I think I can have almost his full $ 5,000 for the truck by Wednesday. He and I counted, and I’ve now got about $ 4,200. I should take in another $ 300 - $ 500 by Wednesday – besides my pension, which I have to keep for rent a week from today.
Of course it’s a risk. But as I wrote Hong Kong Harry last night: I'd advise anybody else against it, but I'm doing it. I have faith in both him and his father. But we'll see. Timing, it seems, is crucial. They have to make their summer customer contacts and start their hauling now. A month from will be too late. I’ve done all I can. Now we can only wait.
Bruce’s suspected stroke turned out to be exactly that “ -- they tell me a minor one, at least so far.
I was working on the last chapter of the rewrite when it happened, who said I don't have dramatic timing!
The Docs seem to think I was dealing with a high level of stress! I am laughing. Stress is my middle fucking name, stress is my vegetable soup and astrological sign. Stress is my mantra and home team and everlasting address. Stress is my life, ah me.
“Anyway the numbness in my hand is slowly improving. I may have dodged yet another bullet. Anyway Dave thanks for your concern and help. Life be cold here in Seattle these days. ~B~”
Sounds like pay-off time for all that coke, dope, cognac and all-night parties in the mad streets of the nation’s capital in the early ’80s! He’s barely 50! I hope to god it’s his last one.
Slava, Basil, and I have finally decided on a domain name -- slabadan.ru combining our three names. I might press for DaSlaBa or something, but no big deal.
Out of the blue last night I had an e-mail from PiKA fraternity brother Dick Anderson, whom I don’t think I’ve seen since graduation 49 years ago! “We spent last weekend at the Florida Southern College reunion for 50 years. While I was there George Crutchfield, and Jack Harvey inquired about you. George stated that the alumni office didn't know where you were. I decided that maybe Arnold Howell might know and he phoned me today to advise of your e-mail address. Please let me know that you get this, before I mail the address to Jack and George.”
I wish I had these columns online; I could just tell them, “Don’t ask, don’t tell, but here they are.” Anyway, I think a new chapter is about to open – or re-open. I really have mixed feelings. While I have mourned the loss of my fraternity brothers, I am also aware that ridding myself of all the meaningful relationships is what enabled me to become myself. Will I be tempted to crawl back in and try to melt into the crowd? I have to weigh the balance between being open and being shocking – between evoking awe and invoking disgust.
Ah, well; I am what I am and they are what they are. Once more, we can only wait and see.
My God! Suddenly I’m a hero to tall, slim, handsome “Jack” – actually Zhenya – in my 11th grade IB class in School No. 69. Jack Kerouac and Alen Ginzberg are his American idols, and yesterday before any of the other students arrived, I told him a little about the “beats” – Kerouac, Ginzberg, Burroughs, and my friend Robert LaVigne. I told him that Robert had been one of Kerouac’s and Ginzberg’s best buddies and was the only one of the “beats” still alive.
“Ginzberg used to come to Seattle to visit Robert, and I met him – he was there for a poetry reading. I have a picture taken with him and an autographed book of his poems.”
“Jack” – actually purloined from Kerouac – practically fell on his knees and worshipped me. He immediately called one of his friends and told him his teacher knew Ginzberg. “All my friends want to meet you,” he said in awe. “And please bring the picture of Ginzberg and the book next Thursday!”
What have I let myself in for? If I tell them the truth about the Beats – that they were all drug addicts, drunks, and bi-sexuals – or homosexuals – who completely disregarded convention and morals, word will get back to their parents that I’m a pied piper trying to toot their little 16-year-old, blue-eyed cherubs off to a land worse than the evil empire. There goes my job at School No. 69!
I really don’t know what I’ll do, but I won’t lie to them!
Christian neocon hypocrite Tom DeLay, speaker of the House and paragon of unction has been caught with his boondoggles showing – this time an all-expense trip to Moscow -- $ 57,238 -- paid for by “business interests of the Russian government.”
He reported on his expense vouchers that it was paid for by a Washington non-profit organization, but the Moscow Times reports that those involved in arranging the visit have revealed that the expenses were paid “by a mysterious company registered in the Bahamas that also paid for an intensive $ 440,000 lobbying campaign.”
During the six-day trip in 1997, when DeLay was the House Majority Whip, he “played golf, met with Russian church leaders, and talked to Prime Minister Victor Chernomyrdin, a friend of Russian oil and gas representatives associated with the lobbying effort.”
In typical Russian style, the money was shuffled from something called Nafta-sib, a major stockholder in Gazprom, the giant government gas and oil monopoly, and a Bahamian-registered company, the Chelsea Commercial Enterprises Ltd., with close ties to the FSB.
This is just one of three DeLay junket scams being investigated. But the poor darling is sobbing that this is merely a heinous plot on the part of the godless Democrats to persecute him for his devout religion. My, it would be such a shame if some of the bandits in Russia should somehow bring down some of the bandits in Washington.
And under the Bush umbrella, there’s no shortage. Never forget the new working definition of a Republican: Greed, Power, Fear, and Secrecy are their modus operandi. Hypocrisy is a mere inconvenience when one is trying to subjugate citizens and take over the world.”
“So there you have it: Peak oil is here!” wrote one of the members of the EnergyResources Internet forum today.
“We’ll look back at March, 2005, as the historical point of Global Peak Oil, the point at which the energy available to fuel our civilization, if that's what it is, began it's inevitable decline. We're in the last gasp of ‘The Global Economy.’
“It's local production for local consumption from here on. The cost of everything in our lives will be determined by the amount of transportation required to get it from raw materials to production to distribution. As the distant and exotic become prohibitively expensive, local, simple and sufficient will become the desirable values; extravagance, excess and conspicuous consumption will be strange historical footnotes.”
I wonder if he’s correct. I rather think he is. I’m pretty sure I know what’s going to happen to America in this scary new era, but I really don’t have a firm grip on what’s going to happen here. I can only make the educated guess that the farm houses of rural Svetlograd are going to be safer and more benign than the stark apartment and commercial fortresses of Moscow.
Of course what I still fear most is that in the resource wars to come, Washington and Moscow will resume their sparring pose and kick out all their “enemies” from the “other side.” I hope my nephew Dennis holds onto Ellison Ridge. I may want to borrow it.
