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I
was only a kid when the Berlin Wall came down, spelling the end
of communism in Europe. I remember taking toys to school to be
sent to the children in Romania and ever since I have had a
fascination with the former Eastern Bloc nations. One day I was
fooling about on the gay.com website and went into the Eastern
Europe chatroom. There were few guys there, just three but one
responded to my: “Hi there !”
“Hello there my friend where are you ?” The guy on the other
end was Xhovalin.
“England,” I replied, “Near Bedford.”
“Is that by London ?”
“About sixty miles north.”
“a/s/l ?”
I hate it when guys crash that out in chat. I find it a mega
turn off but I decided to stick with this guy, I would tell him
my age, my stats and my location.
“5’8”: brown hair bi 6” uncut. U ?”
“Nice.”
“U ?” I typed the question again.
“Want to see my pic ?”
“Please.”
“Give me an e-mail.”
I typed in my Hotmail address.
Within just a few moments my computer bleeped to tell me there
was a new e-mail in my inbox.
“Thanks,” I typed. “I’m trying to work out how to
pronounce your name.”
“It’s JOVALINE,” he typed. “In my country Xh is
pronounced as a J.”
That was something new I had learned.
Jovaline was younger than me, although he wasn’t from Romania
he could have typified those we sent the toys to back at school.
I wondered if perhaps he had received parcels of toys in his
country from kids like me. We chatted on and Jovaline asked me
if I had any pictures.
“Not face pics,” I explained, “but I’ve been taking a
few naughty ones of myself.”
“Can I see ?”
I had been experimenting with a cheap digital camera and had
started to paste some pics into a personal gallery.
“Send me some pics of you,” Jovaline said, “and I’ll
send you a full one of me and some of my friends.”
“OK.”
I clicked into e-mail again and attached the first sheet of the
gallery I had been preparing. I hesitated for some time then hit
send. It took an age for the bulky e-mail to transmit and by the
time it was gone Jovaline had left the chatroom.
So that’s that, I thought to myself. Some guy out there has
now got pictures of my dick - well I hope he enjoys them. I
didn’t stay on line much longer, I shut the computer down and
sat to watch a video.
I didn’t check my e-mail in the morning before I went to work
but after I’d had something to eat that evening I went to the
inbox and there was a message from Jovaline.
Hi Nigel. Thanks for the pics - had a good wank with them.
Here’s another one of me and three of my friends. We have a
nudist group and like to hang everything out together. Come and
join us some time.
Jovaline
I clicked to open the attachment. Bloody hell, my dick shot into
a real hard one. There were four pictures of guys. There was
Xhovalin, the same picture as the night before but this time all
of his body was on show. He was naked save for a communist flag
draped about his right shoulder. A nice dick about the same size
as my own.
Edrin with a soldiers tunic about his arms and shoulders and an
officer’s cap on his head. Man he was hung well.
Nico with a private’s beret, ammunition belt, white shirt and
a cock to die for.
Kristof, I liked his mean face and loved his hung dick. Yes,
there was something about Kristof.
Were these guys for real or had my new net buddy just lifted the
pics from some porn site ?
My MSN suddenly flashed up a message. Xhovalin has logged on.
I sent him an instant message. “Hi there. Thanks for the
pictures.”
“Hi Nigel, great to speak with you again. Did you like them
?”
“Sure did. Are they for real. I mean are they really mates of
yours ?”
“Of course. We meet up once a week for some nude fun and we
took those pictures a few days ago by the lake near where we
live.”
“Your English is good,” I complimented.
“Thanks, I studied it at school and like to read in English.
When I speak I have a bit of an accent.”
“Do any of the others speak English ?”
“Kristof is quite good. Nico and Eddy are trying to learn.
Since the fall of communism everyone wants to learn English.”
“You should come here and meet them. You can get naked with us
some time.”
I never anticipated I would but fortune has a way of taking
matters into its own hands. It took a couple of months for
fortune's plan to mature but inevitability is determined when it
sets its mind to something.
London Heathrow Terminal Two was many hundreds of miles behind
me, so was the change of flight at Budapest. The airport in
Hungary was very different to that I had anticipated, bright,
new and very Western. I was warned, however, that my final
destination would not be so. Xhovalin had cautioned me several
times about that I was to expect, the post-communist years had
not been kind in every respect to his country. “There are
some,” he said in one of our on-line chats, “who long for
the old days and from what they say perhaps it wasn’t all
bad.”
The aircraft banked hard turning for its final approach. I
watched out of the window as the flaps wound down into the
landing position. Below a brown and green landscape was coming
up to meet us. We were close enough now to pick out cattle and
sheep grazing. The houses were white or grey and dotted about in
a random fashion. Some had smoke ascending from chimneys. The
tone of the engines changed again as the distance to the runway
narrowed and closed. The tyres bit and I was there.
For a significant part of the journey my thoughts tormented me
that Xhovalin would not be at the airport to meet me, I would be
stranded and alone in this far-flung corner of Europe. I tried
to put such thinking out of my mind. I had come to know Xhovalin
well through our cyber meetings and was looking forward to cyber
turning into physical reality. (Physical in more sense than
one.) Even so, somewhere high over Austria I had formed a
contingency plan involving a taxi, hotel and a vast hole in my
budget.
Xhovalin had said that credit cards and travelers cheques did
not work in his country, only cash was recognised outside the
capital city. I was told to bring US dollars and to make sure
they were clean and of 1996 series, what ever that meant. I
didn’t have a clue but when I asked at the bank the clerk
smiled knowingly.
“Many of the former iron curtain countries are over cautious
about forgeries. It’s no problem to give you 1996 issue notes,
you’ll have no trouble with them.”
Stepping from the aircraft I entered a totally different world.
We were ushered into a rusty old bus and driven the one hundred
and fifty yards to the terminal building, a small concrete
structure with filthy windows, the strangest smell I have ever
experienced and an over supply of policemen all dressed in
ill-fitting and heavily worn blue uniforms.
The line to the single immigration control booth moved slowly.
Each passenger had to fill in an entry permit, and exit permit,
have his passport closely examined, stamped and the details hand
written into a log book. Not a computer in sight.
Eventually my turn came. “What is your reason to visit our
country ?”
“I am coming to see friends.”
I wondered if the official spoke any English other than this
single phrase. I guess I could have said anything in reply and
he would have been none the wiser. With my passport stamped I
was at least legally inside the country but I wasn’t going to
progress more than a couple of paces before I had to pay my
government entry tax. The dollar notes were closely examined,
held up to the light then stuffed into a cardboard box and a
scrap of paper handed over as my receipt.
You may have thought that while all this was going on the bags
would have been brought through from the aircraft. No,
passengers who had been well ahead of me in the line were still
waiting. A small group of porters were bringing the luggage in
on hand carts and depositing it on the floor within a cordoned
off area. When someone saw their bag they lunged forward and
snatched it safely into their possession. I saw mine making its
way down the path towards the door and stepped over to take it
from the trolley. An officious policeman made to stop me
traversing the line delineating the area for bags to be placed
and prevented my receiving it until the trolley had crossed into
baggage reclaim.
Something else Xhovalin had warned me of was the corruption
which extends from the highest government official to the
lowliest minion. “Be firm with the customs people, shout at
them and take no nonsense. If you don’t it will cost you
dearly to get through.”
Can you imagine telling a member of Her Majesty’s Customs and
Excise to get stuffed when they ask you to open your suitcase in
a British Airport ? How far would that get you ? I steeled
myself up to follow my instructions but managed to pass through
the tiny customs hall without being challenged. That customs
hall opened directly onto the front steps of the building. The
sun was bright and shining in my eyes. The sea of faces were
darkened and blurred in the light. As I frantically cast my eyes
round for Xhovalin, would I recognise him from his picture, I
was constantly pestered with the word Taxi ? Taxi ? I brushed
all offers of transport aside as I looked for my friend. Would
he recognise me ? Yes I had sent him a face picture and he did
not have to rely on those in my gallery I had e-mailed when we
first began to chat.
“Nigel ?”
Thank god, I turned and felt a ton weight lift from me as I
faced Xhovalin properly for the first time. It was easy to
recognise him, that smile was just the same as in the pictures.
And Kristof was every bit the same. We shook hands. It was great
to meet face to face at last but kind of strange to see one
another wearing clothes and not naked as in the computer
pictures.
“Kristof has a car,” Xhovalin explained, “so he will drive
us. The others are waiting to meet you.”
There was something about Kristof that attracted me to him,
something about his eyes. It had been clear in the pictures but
in the flesh they were even more haunting. He greeted me
politely, we smiled, now and then along the journey he spoke but
was far from as talkative as Xhovalin.
That journey was crazy. The roads were totally potholed and
cratered yet the cars sped and weaved about them in the most
alarming way. Every other vehicle was a Mercedes, don’t get me
wrong these were not stylish new models straight from the
showrooms but ageing rust-buckets. If you have ever wondered
where Mercedes cars go to die it is not a scrap yard back home
but here. There must have been Mercedes cars from every part of
Europe being given a second life and thrashed along those
dilapidated roads.
“The Mercedes is a strong car,” Xhovalin explained, “and
you need a strong car here. That’s why they are so popular.”
“Xhovalin is wrong to teach you to say car,” Kristof said.
“In our language car means dick - better to say veture.”
I tried the word for myself. Veture. “So the Mercedes is a
strong veture.”
“That’s right,” Kristof said. “I have a strong veture
and I also have a very strong car !”
Xhovalin laughed loudly. “He knows that Kristof, he has seen
the pictures.”
“And soon he will be able to see for himself.”
Xhovalin and Kristof shared a tiny flat on the fifth floor of a
brick block. The line of the bricks followed no order, looking
as if they were building blocks thrown together by a child - a
strong wind could bring everything falling to the ground. We
climbed a stone staircase up the five floors, there was no lift.
On each landing there was the smell of cooking from the four
flats whose doors opened onto that space.
“If anyone says anything to you while you are here,”
Xhovalin said quietly, “Kristof and I are cousins. People here
are nosy and they don’t understand two men living together. We
say we are cousins, that satisfies them and makes everything all
right.”
I nodded agreement and understanding.
Inside I breathed a sigh of relief that my journey was finally
over.
“Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you.”
“It is we who should thank you for coming all this way to see
us.”
“Perhaps you would like a shower after your journey,”
Xhovalin suggested. “We do not have a proper bath here but we
have a shower.”
“Thank you, that would be nice.”
“When you have finished,” Kristof said, “I also will
shower. You go first and take the hot water, I will follow when
it runs cold.”
I don’t know what possessed me, I could so easily have
offended, but I said, “You are welcome to share with me if you
like.”
Kristof hesitated then said. “That is kind, we will share.”
My mind flashed to those pictures Xhovalin had swapped over the
Internet. Kristof had a massif dick and while I longed to see it
for real I felt a bit embarrassed that mine, although adequate,
was quite small by the side of it.
“You two go and have some fun,” Xhovalin smiled. “Nico and
Eddy will be here soon.”
In the real flesh Kristof had a dick that appeared even larger
than in the photographs. It was limp and hung way low between
his legs showing no sign of an erection. My own dick was
fighting me to get hard, even semi, but I willed it down with
every notion I could muster.
Although it was Xhovalin I knew the best, as far as it is
possible to know anyone through a few months cyber chat, I knew
it was Kristof to whom I felt the greater attraction.
The water splashed our bodies and we soaped, lathered and
rinsed. “We need to be quick,” Kristof explained, “the
tank is small and soon it will run cold.
He turned round and revealed his bum. My heart raced as I saw
it, I just had to get inside there before I left for home.
The water did run cold and we concluded the ablution. Dry we
went to rejoin Xhovalin. Kristof made no move to dress and
clearly showed that he intended to remain quite naked. I
didn’t know what to do but felt I should follow his example.
“You look refreshed,” Xhovalin said. “Nigel, you look very
fine indeed.”
“He is,” Kristof said. “How lucky we are that you met him
on the Net."
Xhovalin had prepared something to eat, a simple salad with cold
chicken and bread. The bread was hard and had a faint taste of
vinegar but the meal was a feast. He also produced three bottles
of beer. "This is produced here in the town," he
explained.
I lifted a bottle, "Cheers."
"Cheers," Kristof and Xhovalin echoed.
"Gazur," Kristof added. "That is how we say it in
our country."
"Gazur." I had learned a second word of my friends'
language.
Xhovalin took a long swig then began to remove his own clothing
until he too was totally naked. I felt slightly more comfortable
to have a dick similar in size to my own against that absolute
monster of Kristof’s.
It wasn't too long before Nico and Edrin came along to join us.
They had their own key and let themselves into the flat but as
soon as we heard the door Xhovalin went out into the small
hallway. There were soft muffled words which I could barely hear
and if I could I would not have been able to understand what
they were saying.
"They're just getting ready," Kristof explained.
"I have almost forgotten what they look like wearing
clothes."
I thought it was a joke and so laughed.
When the other half of the quartet came into the room they also
were naked. Another toast to welcome Edrin and Nico and for them
to add their welcome to my being in their country. This time the
drink was a clear liquid served in tiny glasses.
"This is our national drink," Xhovalin said. "It
is made from fruit and distilled to a high alcohol level."
It smelled like petrol.
"Drink it quickly,' Kristof said. "Swallow it in one
go."
Hell it was like fire water, I can tell you that it could have
well been used as rocket fuel in the former Eastern Bloc's space
programme.
The two newcomers spoke so very little English it was hard to
communicate with either. Xhovalin and Kristof interpreted well
enough but it was strange not being able to talk directly.
Smiles and gestures were always running ahead of words and with
all five of us excited and everyone talking at once and in two
totally different languages it wasn't always clear who was
saying what and to whom.
The four friends were essentially a male nudist group but I
understood there to be something more between Xhovalin and
Kristof. Being naked together that evening was all we five did
on a sexual level. On the more mundane we drank more beer and
even some more of that national rocket fuel. The beer was by far
the better. And we played cards which came close to transcending
at least part of the language barrier.
Time moved on and I was told something of the plans the friends
had for the next day. "We need to start early,"
Kristof said. "So we may be able to buy only the best meat
at the market."
"I see." But I didn't.
Once Nico and Edrin had donned again their clothes and bid us
all good night, at least I think that was what the handshakes,
smiles and nodding of heads surrounded by a babble of confusing
words meant, attention was given to sleeping arrangements. There
was just the one bedroom and within it just the one bed. It was
larger than a single bed would be back home but not large enough
to be considered a double. I presumed that Kristof and Xhovalin
shared this but as the guest it was offered to me, the two
friends would sleep on the floor. I protested and demanded that
I sleep on the floor but they would hear none of it. With a
feeling of guilt I eventually climbed in to allow Kristof to
sleep on the floor to my left while Xhovalin pulled makeshift
covers over him away on the floor to my right.
"Good night."
"Let me teach you some more of our language," Kristof
whispered in the darkness. "Here we say natten e
mire."
"Natten e mire." I wrapped my tongue round the words.
Nothing more was said and I lay back in the darkness to reflect
on all that had happened not only since my plane had left the
ground at Heathrow but since I first rattled the computer keys
and met Xhovalin.
With five of us in the small living room, even though we wore
nothing, it was warm. The single glowing bar from the primitive
electric fire had done its job well. But now it was decidedly
cold. The crisp sheets and blankets did nothing to emulate the
quilt on my own bed at home. The room had no heating and I was
finding it difficult to sleep. I was shivering. I peered at my
watch but in the darkness could not make out the hour. I wafered
my hands between my legs and hunched down as low in the bed as I
could but still I was unable to achieve sufficient warmth to
sleep. Of course I was naked, my clothes had been set aside
almost as soon as I had arrived. Could I perhaps get up without
waking my hosts and find them, dress and get back into bed ? No,
I would certainly wake them and besides wouldn't it show great
discourtesy ? Perhaps I could take them off again before I got
up and neither would notice. No.
Xhovalin was asleep but I sensed that Kristof was still awake.
His whispered words confirmed the suspicion. "Are you awake
Nigel ?"
"Yes," I hissed in reply.
"You are cold are you not ?"
"A little."
He did not say anything but I could hear him leaving his own
bed. The next I knew he was climbing in by my side. I desired
Kristof but he was Xhovalin's partner and to pursue my longing
would be wrong. Perhaps some secretive and elicit fun may be
possible before my return to England but not then, not with
Xhovalin asleep inches away from us. As Kristof's body touched
my own I felt aroused but it was a mental sensation, all evening
my dick had hung limp between my legs and it remained so.
"I am sorry this room is cold," Kristof apologised,
"but if you will allow me I will make you warm."
"Thank you."
"Would you like to know what thank you is in our language
?"
"Yes."
"Falimenderit."
That was a word I had no chance of twisting my tongue round so I
did not even try. In the morning I would ask him to tell me
again and then I would give it my very best attempt.
The two of us did nothing, even though I wanted to so much. Did
Kristof harbour similar feelings for me ? The bed soon warmed
and finally comfortable I was quickly asleep. And I slept well
until the town outside the window told me it was time to awake.
I heard the clop of horses and the rattle of carts, people
calling to one another in that strange language of which I knew
just a tiny handful of words. There were cars, every one with a
loud horn and a driver eager to let all about him know the
extent of its operation.
I had turned to sleep on my side and could feel that Kristof was
still in the bed beside me, his warm body a sensual comfort. He
was still asleep but I sensed Xhovalin was no longer in the
room. I felt guilty. Would he be angry that his lover had spent
the night with me ? I feared an ugly scenario. But I was wrong.
"Are you two planning to stay in bed all day ?"
Xhovalin turned on the light. "I have made some
coffee."
I had brought my hosts a variety of gifts from England among
which was a large jar of instant coffee, in our cyber chats
Xhovalin had told me how difficult it was to buy western coffee.
"Did you sleep well ?"
"Yes thank you," I said a little embarrassed.
"I told you," Kristof said sleepily, "the word is
falimenderit !"
I tried to pronounce it but failed miserably.
Xhovalin had made the coffee well and it felt good as the warm
liquid slid down my throat. That bedroom was even colder in the
early morning than it had been the night before. The air was
damp and bit into my exposed shoulders as I sat up in bed to
drink.
"We need to dress before we go out," Xhovalin said.
"I'll get your clothes."
Kristof got out of bed and stretched. He was a near perfect
specimen of manhood and how I would have loved to have dome more
than just sleep with him. He yawned then said, "We'll buy
some breakfast on the way to the market."
The market was unlike anything I had seen before in my life.
There were no stalls but the traders had simply set up their
wares on the ground. Some had tarpaulins while others just lay
everything in the dust. There was fruit and there were
vegetables, bread and cakes. Several stalls sold nothing but
enormous green water melons. The meat stalls would have to be
seen to be believed. The one we paused at had two sheep sitting
with their fore legs tied together while a third, now dead was
hanging on a gibbet from which the butcher cut what ever meat a
passing customer required. Xhovalin spoke to him and bartered a
price.
"We will return after we have eaten," Kristof
explained. "he will have it ready for us by then."
We continued to walk past cages of live chickens, a boy cleaning
shoes and an old man with a pair of rusty bathroom scales
charging a small coin to check your weight. There were just a
few stalls selling pots and pans, plastic bowls and the like but
these were in a minority. What was not in a minority were those
selling tobacco both raw in heaps of brown shredded flakes and
every brand of cigarette you could find. That emergent nation
may have found it difficult to find the dollars to import
consumer durables but the vice of tobacco now so fast being
regarded as anti-social at home was there in absolute abundance.
"Time to learn another word," Kristof my teacher said.
"Say this after me: byrek."
"Brek," I said.
Xhovalin laughed. "No byrek - buy rek -."
"Byrek."
"That's it," Kristof smiled. Brek means underpants !
Byrek is what we are going to have for breakfast. Make sure you
don't mix the two up !"
Byrek was kind of meat pasty made with flaky pastry, it tasted
good and was served with a thick acrid coffee and again that
clear rocket fuel drink. I enjoyed the byrek, sipped cautiously
at the coffee and politely declined the alcohol. How could
anyone drink so early in the day and of all things that neat
alcohol !
"Tell us about what life is like in England," Kristof
said.
What a question, where to start.
"Before communism," Xhovalin added, "we only knew
what the government told us about life outside the country.
Today we can see television but we don't have a television
ourselves."
I tried to explain a little but did not want to put down their
own country, their culture and way of life although short in my
experience I could see how life was so terribly hard.
"Xhovalin and I want to go to live in America,"
Kristof explained. "We are trying very hard to save the
money to buy the passports."
At first I wasn't sure what he meant but the two went on to say
that if you had enough money you could buy American passports on
the black market.
"How much for ?"
"A fake one costs about five thousand dollars but a genuine
one is ten thousand."
"Genuine."
"There are people who can arrange this." Xhovalin told
me. "British passports are almost impossible, British
officials are not corrupt."
Where ever could these two hope to get then thousand dollars
each ? This was an impossible dream.
"But if you get a passport and get to America how would you
live, how could you get a job ? You need a social security
number and all medical treatment costs a fortune."
"There are people who can help." Kristof told me.
I felt sorry for the two, communism may have fallen and the
borders to the country may be open but they were still
imprisoned. Imprisoned in a poverty ridden nation with amazingly
high unemployment and no prospect for a decent life. If I had
the money I think I would have happily given them both ten
thousand dollars and looked upon it as a gesture of humanity.
We finished eating then left the tiny cafe to return to the
market. We bought bread, goats cheese, beer and some tomatoes
before going to the butcher. Just one sheep now sat with its
legs tied together, the other had been killed, skinned and
prepared for us. I took the bread, tomatoes, cheese and beer
while the other two carried the whole sheep between them. It was
heavy and by the time we reached the flat they were tired. We
put all of our shopping into the boot of the car then went
inside.
As I have been telling you this tale and describing the scene in
the town I have failed to tell you the beauty of the surrounding
countryside. That town itself was terrible, brick and concrete
blocks of houses so typical of communist central planning - it
would have been better to have bulldozed the lot. The streets
were dirty and strewn with litter, litter which must have been
there for ages and had become mashed into the mud. The whole
place stank. But when I lifted my eyes above head height it was
so different.
The town sat in a wide valley with a broad river flowing swiftly
through. On one side a single giant mountain dominated the
skyline while on the other there was a range of flowing hills.
My friends told me the names of the mountains and of the river
but I am afraid I can not remember them. Although cool in the
morning air the sun shone brightly and it would soon be a
beautiful and warm day.
The plan was to drive up into the hills and cook the sheep over
an open fire. Edrin and Nico would soon arrive to join us then
we would all set off together.
"We can drive only part of the way," Kristof
explained. "Then we walk the last few kilometres."
"It is very private up there," Xhovalin added,
"and today is going to be warm. It is a good place for us
all to be nude."
So that was what we did. In the late morning the other two
arrived and we all squashed into the ancient Mercedes. If the
roads I previously described were bad then the way up the
mountain was more so, much more so. The engine groaned and the
suspension was tested to the limits. Several times it hit bottom
and I feared something would break, it would be a long walk down
again. We traveled like this for more than an hour until Kristof
explained that was as far as we could drive, the rest of the way
would be on foot.
I consider myself a fairly fit guy but the scramble up and up
the mountain was exhausting. My friends refused to allow me to
carry anything but even so it was hard. The incline was suitable
only for goats, my feet constantly slipped and I wondered all
the time just how much further we needed to go. On and on.
"Isn't this a good spot ? How about here ?" I begged.
"Not too much further," Xhovalin smiled. "When we
get there you will see how special the place is."
Not too much further was another thirty minutes and when we
finally reached our destination I lay back and waited to die. My
head pounded and my heart was fit to burst.
Edrin and Nico were busy taking off their clothes. Kristof
handed me an opened bottle of beer, never before in my life had
refreshment been quite so welcome. I put the neck of the bottle
to my lips and prepared to drink.
"Not until you are naked," Xhovalin smiled.
"Clothes off first. Drink later."
Tired as I was I flung my clothes away with incredible speed and
then downed that beautiful nectar.
The information I had been given was right, it was a special
place. There was no worry of anyone coming upon us, so remote
and high up the mountain were we. The ground was covered with
lush grass and bordered by trees. Through the trees on one side
it was possible to look down on the river and town far, far
below. Nobody down there would have been able to see us without
a powerful telescope.
As I admired the view preparations were being made to cook the
sheep. A fire had been lit from gathered wood and was burning
well. Kristof had cut a stout branch and inserted it through the
carcass. He was then busy preparing two forked branches in order
to suspend it over the flames.
"We did this once when I was a soldier," Kristof
explained. "Everyone in this country has to do two years in
the army and some friends and I cooked a sheep over an open
fire. It was good and that was the first time I became a
nudist."
"You would be good with a barbecue if you ever get to
America," I smiled.
"What is a barbecue ?"
I tried to explain.
"When we get to America," Xhovalin said, "you
must come and visit us."
"Certainly." I did not want to spoil their delusion.
My man-experiences have always been good but have always been
sexual, this idea of being a nudist was different. Still my dick
was limp and showed little intent of taking on an erection. I
admired the bodies of my friends and hoped that they were able
to derive some pleasure from me but beyond the desire I had for
Kristof, a desire I was trying so hard to quell there was
nothing sensual. But it was great being naked with my friends
and great being naked out of doors, I could see the attractions
of being a naturist. Perhaps I could get myself a job in a
nudist colony ! Certainly I would consider visiting one.
The lamb was beginning to smell as the meat spat and sizzled
over the fire. I was handed another beer and drank that one
slowly. The cooking would take some time so while the four
friends took turns to watch the fire and turn the sheep to roast
evenly the rest of us lay back on the grass and talked.
Edrin and Nico tried again to communicate with me but it was
difficult. Xhovalin and Kristof told me more of their plan to
emigrate to America. It was a plan, the stage of it being a
dream had passed and as they told me more I began to believe
they would actually achieve what they were talking about.
"There is a man whose cousin lives in the town,"
Xhovalin explained. "He has a restaurant in Detroit and he
has promised us work when we get there."
"He escaped from the country in the time of communism and
the Americans gave him - how do you say....."
"Political asylum," Xhovalin finished Kristof's
sentence.
"That's it - political asylum. He has promised to help
us."
"When are you going ?"
"Soon."
The sun beat down and the temperature steadily rose. Gone was
the chill of the night and the early morning, it certainly was a
beautiful day. I got up and walked to the fire. I was hungry and
interested to see how the cooking was progressing. The glowing
embers were hot against my naked body even though I was several
feet away. Nico was tending the meat, he smiled at me from a red
face - red from the heat of the fire. I grinned, he should be
careful and not burn himself - burn himself in an awkward place.
I was happy and content in this strange and funny country, I had
found some good friends and I hoped this would just be the first
of several visits. I was flying home again in the morning, yes
this was just a short trip. I had made it deliberately short
partly because I had only a few days of holiday entitlement left
from work and partly because I felt I should keep the visit
brief in case things there did not work out well. But they were
working well and I wished I could stay longer.
Kristof came and stood beside me. "It is so good to have
you here," he said. "Thanks for coming. You will visit
us in America won't you ? And when we have our new passports we
will be able to travel, if you invite us we could visit you in
England."
"Of course," I said sincerely. "Come to England,
you will be very welcome."
"We have the money for the passports," Kristof told
me. "All we need now is the money for the tickets to fly
there."
This statement stunned me. I wanted to ask how on earth they had
gathered together twenty thousand dollars in this poverty ridden
backwater.
"We have to fly first to Vienna in Austria and then to New
York. In New York we can take a bus to Detroit."
"Yes."
I had been to America several times and knew the large bus
station in Manhattan, I could picture Kristof and Xhovalin on a
Greyhound Bus traveling up to Detroit in Michigan. I had never
been to Michigan myself at that time but I sensed this could
well change. But how ever had these two raised the money ? The
thought nagged at me.
It nagged me for a long time; I simply could not get the thought
out of my mind. We ate the roasted meat between thick slices of
bread, sucked at tomatoes and drank more beer. We ate more meat
than I would have done in a week then lay back on the grass to
rest. I thought and even worried about how Kristof and Xhovalin
had raised so much money. But then it occurred to me that it
didn't matter and if it did it certainly wasn't any of my
business. I wished them well in their venture.
"More to eat ?"
"Oh, no thank you - I am well stuffed ?"
The fire was beginning to die but there was lots left. The foxes
had a good feast that night as we left the carcass for them to
pick up where we left off. Eventually we put back our clothes
and slowly made our way down the steep side of the mountain. By
the time we reached the car the light was beginning to dim into
the evening. It had been a great day. The thoughts I had
previously pushed back and forth in my mind were no longer of
the same significance and I was formulating a plan of my own.
I had flown into the country by way of Malev Hungarian Airlines
simply because it was the cheapest. There was no direct route
from London but as well as Budapest I could have flown via Rome
with Alitalia, Geneva with Swissair or Vienna with Austrian
Airlines. Austrian was not the most expensive option, but it was
a close second behind Swissair. I guessed that a flight to New
York would cost each of my friends something like $700 each.
Nico and Edrin left us in the centre of town and said their
farewells to me wishing me good speed for my journey home to
London the next day. Back in the flat we remained clothed and
sat to play chess. Kristof thrashed me in the first game.
Xhovalin laughed. "His father was the national chess
champion," he explained.
I picked up my dead king and fingered it nervously as I began to
speak. "You have been very good to me, this has been a
great visit for me."
"You have honoured us with your visit, it is we who should
be thanking you."
I held up my hand. "Please let me finish. You haven't
allowed me to pay for a thing and unless I go on a spending
spree in the morning I will be taking home all the money I
brought with me. I want you to let me so something to show my
gratitude and to demonstrate my friendship with you both."
They looked puzzled.
"Please, please can I make a gift to you ?"
"If you like. What ?"
"I want to buy you both the tickets you need to go to
America."
There was silence. The two looked at each other and then at me.
I hoped I had not offended them.
No I hadn't. They accepted with a level of delight mere words
can not express. "The only condition," I smiled,
"is that you let me visit you in Detroit as soon as you
have settled in."
"That is our condition," Xhovalin said. "We will
only accept if you promise to come and see us."
In bed that night Kristof again climbed in beside me. Xhovalin
fell instantly asleep. Of course our bodies were touching and at
times quite intimately but when I felt Kristof's hand gently
slide between my thighs this was no chance encounter. I softly
murmured approval and my cock for the first time in that little
country rose fully to attention. My reach between us confirmed a
similar arousal within my friend. Hell he had a big one. Yes, it
was every bit as cold in that bedroom as it had been the night
before but suddenly all awareness of temperature disappeared.
Kristof turned me onto my back and tossed aside all the
bedcovers. He spread my legs and knelt between them. He spoke
something in his own language, it had to be to Xhovalin. He was
awake and joined his friend. Together they gave me the most
wonderful and lasting wank before allowing me to reciprocate.
I am scribbling this little tale into the pages of a spiral
notebook, on my return home I will type it up properly on my
computer. The aircraft has reached its cruising altitude and the
seat belt sign has ceased its glow over my head. If I continue
to write and finish my story before the cabin crew come round
with food I can then grab a quick nap and dream of the events I
have recorded. Time then to read my account and make any simple
revisions before we land in Detroit.
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