A Summer Love - 5. Chapter 5

August 19, 1991

Anatoly and I lugged bags of crap up to the room. I was getting pretty pissed off at JP. He'd sent us out to get the stuff and just sat there in the room, staring out the window. And it was a lot of stuff. I tossed my bags on the table, perhaps a little too loudly, and Anatoly set his down more calmly.

JP came over and did an inventory. “Only two flashlights?”

I felt my anger boil up until it exploded over. “We went out and got this stuff when everyone in Moscow was trying to buy out the stores, while you sat here on your ass. You want more flashlights, fucking get them yourself!”

He just eyed me with his nonchalant attitude, ignoring my outburst. “I see you got candles instead. That will work.” I shook my head and went into the bathroom to pee, and to calm down. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to be a dick, to piss me off so when it came time for us to go our separate ways I'd be glad. That was so insulting. It might work if this was just an infatuation, but it was more than that. I was in love with him, and the opposite of love is hate. If he pushed me like this, I may end up really detesting him, and that would be tragic.

I walked out of the bathroom, looked at him and Anatoly, and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” JP asked.

“I'm going out; I'm going to see what's going on instead of just sitting around here.” Fuck the siege.

“You could be injured,” he said, but not with concern.

“Then you can blame yourself. My blood will be on your hands.” I slammed the door shut and caught the elevator before he or Anatoly could stop me. I was being childish and petulant and I knew it, but sometimes children were petulant and difficult just to piss off their parents, and sometimes it worked. Like now, hopefully.

I got to the street and headed to the White House, as that seemed to be the focus of all the action. This morning things had been calm, but not now. Now there were crowds there, angry crowds, but their anger was not directed at other people, at the demonstrators around them. Their anger was directed at Yanayev and his bunch.

A man said something to me in Russian but I just shook my head and said “Français.” Being French seemed lower risk than being American, although the crowd didn't seem to care about that. This was an internal crisis, not an external one. I wandered through the crowd, feeling the energy, feeling like I was part of something important, at one of the great moments in history. Some people were smiling and joking, happy to be part of this group defending their country, while others were angry, the kind of people who sparked violence.

A really tall, handsome Russian said something to me and I responded in French. “You are French?” he asked in that language. I couldn't help but smile. It was refreshing to find someone I could communicate with.

“I am. I am Marcel,” I said, extending my hand.

“Niko,” he said, taking my hand and shaking it. He had cute Slavic features, a wide nose, a round face, and sparkling blue eyes. He looked muscular, perhaps too much so. His clothes looked western in style, with jeans and a polo shirt. The polo shirt had banded arms, and his massive biceps looked like they would blast the banding apart if he flexed them. The whole package was really attractive.

“Nice to meet you Niko,” I said, turning on the charm. He looked at me, tilting his head slightly. A sign of interest? “I cannot understand anything that is going on.”

“Then you must stick with me Marcel,” he said, repeating my name so I knew he'd remembered it. “Yeltsin has denounced the coup, and is demanding that they show Gorbachev on television.”

“So you are from Moscow?” I asked him.

“Not originally. I am originally from the other capital.” He meant St. Petersburg. “I came here to attend school at the university.” He paused to stare at the street and the jostling of the crowd pushed us together, until our faces were inches apart. I felt his hard body against mine, and I felt my dick rising. He grinned at me, and then moved away, pushing the crowd back. I put my hands in my pocket to adjust my cock. “You are from France?”

“I am from Paris, but I live in America now.”

“You live in America? I would love to go there!” he said enthusiastically.

“Well, when this is all over and we have a paper and pencil handy, I will give you my address and you can come visit me.” He smiled at that, but then turned his attention to the crowd.

“Those are infantry fighting vehicles of the Tamanskaya Guards. The hardliners sent them here to “protect” the White House, but they are here to storm the place. You must be careful, be ready to run if there is violence. You follow me, and I will take care of you.” He put a massive arm around me, making me feel secure. He was tall, probably 6'2". I'd been so entranced by his muscles I hadn't really appreciated his height. He had almost two inches on me.

“Thanks Niko. When this is all over, I will have to buy you dinner or something to pay you back for your kindness.”

“Or something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He was flirting with me. This muscle man was flirting with me. I'd been so dominant with JP all summer, suddenly the thought of having this massive hunk of a man make me his bitch was turning me on like crazy.

“Yeah. Something,” I said, flirting back, and giving him a slight wink. I felt his arm drop as he let me go, brushing across my ass as he did. I grinned up at him, letting him know that I'd gotten the gesture.

“Look, that is the Major in charge of the Guards!” Niko said excitedly. The Major was shouting at the crowd, and I was sure it was a call for us to disperse until the crowd, and Niko, began cheering like demons. Niko looked at me, realizing I was clueless. “The Major has declared for Yeltsin. He says he takes his orders from The Russian State, not the Soviets.”

As if the environment could not get more electric, the crowd erupted again. I stood on my tiptoes to see over the people, and there, walking toward the Tamanskaya Guards, was Yeltsin. The crowd went nuts again, and I heard myself cheering, caught up in the moment. Yeltsin walked up and embraced the Major, then climbed up on the tank and addressed the crowd, calling for the same things he had before. The crowd pushed us in again, and I felt Niko behind me, pushing against me. I felt his hard body against my back, his groin against my ass. There was something harder there. He had an erection and he was pressing it against my ass. I pushed back into him and he pushed forward into me. We stood there in the crowd, crammed together like sardines, while he and I gently dry-fucked each other.

It was incredibly stimulating, not only because he was a total hunk, but because we were doing it here, in the middle of a crowd. “Come with me,” he whispered in my ear, and dragged me out of the crowd. We headed to a Metro station nearby, and I figured he was going to take me to his place, but he didn't. Instead, he pulled me into the men's restroom, and into one of the stalls.

He locked the door and pulled me to him roughly, showing me that he was in charge, and pressed his lips against mine. Everything about him, all of his moves, were designed to show me that he was the boss. It was exciting, and a little scary. He undid his belt and pants and they dropped to the floor. I knelt down and came face to face with his dick. For a huge man, a macho man, he had a really small dick. It was probably less than five inches long and skinny. I took it into my mouth willingly as he face fucked me. Then he pulled me up and turned me around, undoing my pants and pulling them down. I heard a tear as he opened a condom up, and I breathed a sigh of relief about that. If he'd decided to fuck me without one, there wasn't much I could’ve done to stop him.

No foreplay, no lube, he just moved up behind me and rammed his dick into me. I was lucky that he was so small; otherwise it would have hurt like hell. Still, with no lube, it was pretty raw. I didn't have much time to think about it though. He pushed me over so I was leaning over the toilet, my hands against the wall supporting myself, while he started pounding into me. I took my right hand off the wall and stroked my dick in time with his thrusts, knowing that he didn't give a shit if I came or not. It was all about him, and that was strangely erotic.

He was uttering things loudly in Russian, a guttural tone about him, and I could tell from his thrusts and change in rhythm that he was getting close. I stroked myself faster and felt my own orgasm rise. My balls started rising and I shot my first blast across the toilet and into the wall, squeezing my ass in response to the stimulus. He grunted loudly and I knew he was coming too, primarily by the way he tried to jam his whole body inside my ass, or at least that's what it felt like.

I stood there facing away from him, enjoying the afterglow, when I heard a zipper, the door opened, and he was gone. I smiled to myself as I cleaned off the cum on the wall, and off my hands, and headed out. The whole thing was cheap and tawdry, with no emotions and no real connection, yet it was erotic as hell.

I headed back to the hotel after that, my mind strangely clearer, my attitude significantly improved. I opened the door to find a worried looking JP and Anatoly. They said nothing to me, and I said nothing to them. I went over to the bedroom and, with the door open, stripped off my clothes. I saw Anatoly watching me, and that made me smile. I headed into the shower and let the warm water wash over me, washing away the grime of the crowd, and the traces of Niko's fuck.

I dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist, then headed out to grab some of the food we bought.

“I was worried about you,” JP said. I ignored him.

“There was quite a demonstration at the White House. The army declared for Yeltsin, and he got up on a tank and made a speech. The crowd was incredible, pumped up and energized.” I sat down on a chair across from Anatoly.

“They have declared a State of Emergency on the news, and declared a curfew as well. I think they are worried about riots at night,” Anatoly said. I lifted my leg a little bit, giving him a straight view up my leg to my balls. I saw him gulp slightly.

“If the army is with Yeltsin, the hardliners have lost,” JP said.

I lifted my leg a little more, clearly exposing my balls and swelling dick to Anatoly. He was trying not to stare at it. JP was looking out the window, not paying attention, so I reached down and scratched my balls, stroking my dick slightly. Anatoly was to the point where he could only stare. He looked up at me, embarrassed, but I just smiled at him.

“I'm going down to the front desk,” JP said. “I want to see what kind of security the hotel has.” By the time he turned to look at us I was back in a normal position. I just nodded at him as he walked out the door.

I looked back to Anatoly, now that it was just the two of us. I lifted my leg again and he stared again, unabashed now, knowing that I was encouraging him. My dick was about half hard. I reached around and took the towel off completely, so I was in front of him, my legs spread wide. He smiled up at me, but was afraid to do anything. I stood up so I was right in front of him, my hard cock aimed right at his mouth.

“I should go,” he said nervously. I ran my hand through his hair and pulled him to my cock, felt his lips part letting me in, and felt the feel of his mouth as he absorbed my swollen organ.

“That feels so good Anatoly. God, that feels good. Oh yeah.” He was working me like a pro, really going at it. This was not his first cock. I pulled him up and kissed him, not roughly but firmly, and reached down to grab his dick through his pants. He was pretty hung. It was funny how the shorter, scrawny guy had a big dick, while the tall, muscular stud was hung like a ten year old. I pulled his clothes off a piece at a time, until he was naked.

“I cannot do this. I could get in trouble,” he said as I led him over to the bed.

“By whom?” I asked.

“What if JP comes back? What if he reports me? I won't be able to work again.” I laughed.

“When JP comes back, we will make him get naked with us.” Anatoly got a big grin then. I kissed him and we rolled around on the bed, rubbing against each other. “So are you a top or a bottom,” I asked him.

“What do you mean?”

I smiled and stroked his ass, and his hole, making him moan. “A bottom likes to get fucked, while a top likes to be the one who penetrates.”

He looked at me nervously. “I haven't done either. I have only done it with my mouth.”

I looked up to find JP staring at us, scowling. I got up and went over to him and put my arms around him, holding him from behind. “Let's not fight baby. Let's have a good time. Look at Anatoly. Is he not cute?”

Anatoly looked nervous as hell, and JP sensed that. As mad as he was at me, he wouldn't be mean to Anatoly. “He is. Very cute.” I started to unbutton JP's shirt and he let me, Anatoly watching me expose his naked chest. Then I unbuttoned his pants and let them fall, followed by his boxers, exposing his hard cock.

“Anatoly, show JP how good you are at blow jobs,” I said, and he was there in a flash, blowing JP. JP moaned and sank back into me. “He's never fucked another man before. I want to watch him fuck you. I want him to feel your amazing hole wrapped around his cock.” JP moaned and moved against me, now in his sexual mode, and completely at my mercy. I pulled him away from Anatoly and led him to the bed, pushing him down on all fours, his cute ass sticking in the air.

“Lick his ass Anatoly,” I ordered, pulling him over. I dove in first, and he followed willingly, as we kissed each other, then rimmed JP, then kissed each other again. I pulled out a condom and put it on him, lubing up JP. “Fuck him,” I ordered. Anatoly moved forward slowly, pushing in nervously, but JP was having none of his hesitance. He thrust back into Anatoly, taking his good-sized dick with no problem. I smiled to myself, thinking about how much I'd stretched him out this summer. Then nature took over, and Anatoly started fucking him.

I moved up to JP's face and kissed him. “I'm sorry I was mean to you baby,” I said. He just moaned and nodded. “You like how it feels when he fucks you?” He moaned and nodded again. He reached back to grab his cock but I slapped his hand away. “When he's done fucking you, it's my turn, so save your energy.” He looked at me nervously, and then his expression changed to one of pure lust. I heard Anatoly start to grunt and moan. He sounded a lot like Niko. I wondered if all Russian men sounded like that when they came. I smiled internally, thinking that I'd need to do more research.

Anatoly finished pumping his load into the condom and pulled out. I flipped JP over effortlessly. He was so thin and so agile I could probably throw him across the room and he'd land in a fuckable position. I squirted some extra lube on my hard cock and lined it up with his hole, then pushed in. I fucked him as I knew he liked it, while Anatoly just stared at us, amazed. I felt my balls starting to rise and knew I was getting close. I grabbed Anatoly by the hair roughly and pulled him over to JP's cock and told him, with body language alone, to suck it.

That did it for JP. He blasted into Anatoly's mouth, and Anatoly swallowed it, savoring it. The boy liked cum. I pulled out of JP then and stroked my cock, aiming it at Anatoly’s face. I let my first shot blast onto his face, and then jammed my cock into his mouth, making him drink the rest. I felt the back of his throat constrict around me as he swallowed all of my load, then he wiped my cum off of his face and ate that too.

“I should go,” he said nervously. JP smiled at me. We knew the story. Anatoly was used to quick, anonymous encounters, and now that we'd cum, he was ready to go.

JP pulled him flat onto the bed. “You're spending the night.” He was about to argue when I jumped on him, making sure he felt all of my weight and strength pushing him down.

“You're not going anywhere except the shower,” I said.

August 20, 1991

I woke up with JP snuggled up on my left side and Anatoly on my right. He was a little dynamo, our Russian, and it had taken both of us to finally wear him out last night. That made me smile, and made me want another round, but I had to pee. I extracted myself from them and headed to the bathroom. A glance at my watch surprised the shit out of me. It was already noon.

I stared out the window, looking at the White House. The troops that had been there yesterday had been withdrawn. It seemed like an assault was imminent. I stood there, waiting and watching, but nothing happened. I felt a hand on my waist and then Anatoly was next to me, gazing at the scene. JP came over too.

“It looks like a stand-off,” I said.

“They must break it, the hardliners, or they will lose,” JP said.

“It will be a slaughterhouse if they do,” Anatoly said nervously.

JP looked at me a bit nervously. “I booked flights out for us tomorrow.” I thought about that, kind of pissed that he didn't even ask me, but I decided that was OK. This was exciting, a little dangerous, but it wasn't my war, my revolution. And there was no reason for me to be involved.

“You will escape this nightmare, I will not,” Anatoly said, irritated.

“It is your country Anatoly,” JP said realistically. “You will be fine. Besides, I think that your people will win this one. If the hardliners had stormed the White House yesterday, they may have had a chance. But they have waited too long, let a powerful opposition arise. And they totally fucked up last night. Did you see the news? They actually showed Yeltsin standing on a tank speaking. That's a pretty vivid symbol.”

Anatoly nodded. “I should get down there and help out.” He started putting his clothes on while we just looked at him. “I need to be part of the movement. Thank you for all that you did, and for, well, for last night,” he said, blushing.

I gave him a big hug goodbye, and so did JP, although it was a little less warm. JP handed him a thick envelope, a bunch of money, American dollars. That would tide Anatoly over no matter what regime came into power. And then he was gone.

“One more night in Moscow,” JP said.

“One more night,” I repeated. We climbed back into bed and lay there together, the two of us clinging to each other not out of passion, but out of love.

August 21, 1991

The Zil sped to Domodedovo Airport with JP and me glued to the windows. There were tanks and armored personnel carriers everywhere, and they were on the move. They were moving out of the city.

“The coup is over. It has failed,” JP said knowingly. “The hardliners looked Yeltsin in the eye and they blinked. Everything is different here now. Now Yeltsin is in charge, Russians are in charge. Soviets are history.” I nodded. It made sense.

The airport was jam-packed with people frantic to get out. I was glad that JP had gotten us reservations yesterday, and I was glad he'd gotten them in first class so we'd be able to avoid the madness here. And that's exactly what happened. We stood in our special line and went through our special security check and then waited in our special lounge until it was time to board the plane. The jet lifted off gently, an American Airlines flight this time, heading for Chicago O'Hare where we'd change planes and head to Palo Alto. Or so I thought.

I looked at my ticket and noticed that I didn't have an extension of my flight to San Jose. JP was leaving me in Chicago. This was it. This was the end. “You arranged for me to stay in Chicago.”

He looked at me nervously. “It made the most sense Marcel. There's no reason for you to fly out to Palo Alto for a day, and then turn around and fly back.”

“You can stay in Chicago for a few days,” I said hopefully, knowing that he wouldn't do it.

“I need to get back too,” he said.

“So this is it. The summer is over, and so are we,” I said sadly. He just nodded. This would be more agonizing if I didn't think he was as upset by this too, but I knew that he was. He was showing just enough discipline for both of us. I sat there and felt a tear roll down my cheek, then another, until they were falling like rain. I wasn't sobbing though; anyone looking at me would be surprised by my impassive look.

We fell asleep on the plane, tired and miserable, and didn't wake up until the flight landed. We went through immigration, no mean feat since we were coming from Russia. After customs, I kept my bags and JP re-checked his onto the flight to California. And then we were there, and it was over.

Our eyes met and I saw the tears in his as well. I boldly pulled him into a kiss in the middle of the airport. Then I broke it off long enough to hug him. I couldn't let go. I tried, but I couldn't, and he didn't seem to want to either.

“Marcel, thank you for an amazing summer. I will never forget it. Never,” he said.

“Neither will I,” I told him. “Why do things have to end? Why can we not see each other on weekends once in a while, or holidays?”

“It won't work. You know it and I know it. All of the differences, like our ages, will compound to ruin it. That's why we agreed to this. Remember that? Remember our deal?”

“But I love you. I want to be with you,” I pleaded, the logical side of my brain completely overloaded.

“The only reason we had this blissful summer is because we agreed to end our affair at the end of summer. That was our deal, and now you're trying to change it and you're making me look like the shithead here. I already feel bad that I'm losing you, and now you're making me feel guilty too. That's not fair Marcel.” I could see the pain in his eyes too.

“I am hurting, you are hurting, and together we do not hurt. It seems like a logical solution,” I told him.

“It sounds logical but it is complicated. This is the way it has to be.”

I smiled. “I will try and sneak out and visit you.”

“No, you won't.” He was so firm.

“You mean you will not even see me?” I was stunned.

JP swallowed hard. “If you show up at the gates of Escorial, you won't be admitted.” I stared at him. He was bluffing, I knew he was bluffing. They would let me in, if only so I could see my uncle. But that wasn't the point. He was telling me that I wasn't welcome. Even if I showed up, he'd avoid me, shun me, and so would everyone except Frank.

“That will make for a pretty shitty Christmas celebration. You will send some eggnog to me at the hotel?” I said spitefully.

“That's not what I meant and you know it,” he said, irritated. “You are part of my extended family, and in that regard, in that way, we will have a relationship. But as a couple, we will not.”

“It does not matter. I will not be there anyway.” There was no way I was going to skulk around, begging to be loved. “Goodbye JP.” And I turned away from him and walked away as fast as I could, refusing to allow myself to look back. I felt so alone. I was so alone.

I grabbed a cab and let the driver take my bags. I was oblivious for the entire drive. There was no joy in seeing my building, no happiness at being home. I paid the cab driver and lugged my bag to the elevator. I felt so tired, so miserable. I looked at the button and it seemed to take an enormous effort just to push it. The elevator whisked me up quickly, its speed contrasting annoyingly with my mood. I made it across the foyer and pulled out my key, opening my door. I felt so exhausted. This was so hard. I shuffled my bags inside and dropped them, closed and locked the door, and collapsed on the couch. I lay there for a long time, long enough that it became dark outside. I didn't want to think about anything. I didn't want to feel. If I allowed myself to feel, I would hurt. Somehow I managed to pull myself off the couch and drag myself into the bedroom. I pulled off my clothes at the same time. It all took so much effort.

August 24, 1991

I woke up and reached to the other side of the bed instinctively, but it was empty. Then the realization that JP was gone, gone forever, hit me, and the tears returned. The pain was agonizing, overwhelming. I felt like my chest was going to explode. I needed him, I needed to hear him. Maybe he got back to Escorial and realized that he loved me just as much as I loved him. Maybe he was there in as much pain as I was. Maybe he was hoping, praying that I would call him, but he was just too proud to do it.

Inspired, I felt a burst of energy and grabbed the phone, dialing the number for Escorial. The housekeeper answered and tracked down JP. “Hello,” he said cautiously.

“Hi,” I said feebly. “I just wanted to make sure that you made it back home alright.”

There was a long pause. “I did Marcel. Thanks for checking up on me.”

Another long pause. “I miss you,” I said lamely.

“I miss you too. But we both have a lot to do, so hopefully your work will make you forget about me.”

“I'm miserable without you,” I heard myself say; giving away the pain and agony that probably just made me seem pathetic.

“Marcel, we had this talk. You have to move on, alright? Now I have to go. Take care of yourself.” And then I heard a dial tone.

The fatigue returned, the dullness, the lack of energy. If I was dulled, if all of me was dulled, it was easy. I felt nothing. But the minute I allowed myself to feel anything, all I would feel is pain. I collapsed back into bed and went back to sleep.