My Father the Czar Copyright 1998 Library of Congress number: 98-96138 by AUTHOR22@aol.com All rights reserved Chapter Thirteen + + + + + + The Odessa Army Base Commander was a man in his late forties with a wife and two children. His wife Rosa was nothing unusual however, she had all of the requisite abilities for a military officer's wife. She was politically aware. She had good manners. She was a decent cook. Her political expertise was restricted to the military world. Without her putting in the right word with the right wife, it is unlikely that her husband would have become a military leader. The children had grown up on many different army posts throughout Russia. Their tour of duty seldom was longer than three years. For most of their young lives the children had slept in the same bed. The cold winters encouraged their cuddling together; usually, the boy around his sisters back. When the boy was nine something unusual had happened, but the unusual had evolved from a normal, everyday occurrence. In the mornings he always awoke with an erection which went away as soon as he had urinated. His sister was used to his little erection prodding in the back of her night shirt. But on this particular morning both of their night shirts had ridden up and his petooshock was resting between the cheeks of her buttocks. The warmth felt good to both of them, or at least would have had they been awake enough to be conscious of the contact. The natural male lubricant flowed gently from the tip of his organ, encouraging its inward movement. It was the girl who first became aware of what was happening as the head of the boys penis rested firmly against the ring of her anus. She enjoyed the feeling and, had she been asked why, she would not have been able to say why she had moved her bottom back toward her brother; but, she did and the slippery probe moved easily past the relaxed muscle ring. The boy, now almost awake, followed his natural instincts and moved his chlen in and out of his sister's hole. Eventually he felt the first surges of a dry ejaculation, then his little member shrunk and fell out of the receptacle. Neither of the children talked about it, but the exercise became a daily routine. Two years later, at the age of fourteen, the boy experienced his first real ejaculation and, from then until now, the boy had become the aggressor. Shortly after that he had met a young soldier who was just sixteen. The soldier had been raised in a family of boys and was not unfamiliar with what boys did when there were no females around. The two boys, the commander's son Sergy and the soldier Ivan, soon became close friends. The girl, Selly, now thirteen, became jealous of the closeness of her brother and his new buddy. Thus, her early morning exercises with her brother became more purposeful. The two friends had organized a camping trip to a nearby river where they intended to fish. It was while they were packing their bed rolls that Selly asked if she could come along. Her brother was adamant in his refusal: "a girl, and especially his sister, on a camping trip with his best friend? ...No way." But Ivan interceded on her behalf so, reluctantly, Sergy gave in and the three youngsters spent Saturday night camped out alongside the river. It was that night that Selly discovered the pleasures of having turned over. Sergy became excited as he watched the soldier fuck his sister. Ivan had turned so that they were on their sides with her bottom toward her brother; thus, Sergy did that night what he had done every morning for the past three years. + + + + + + Turkey's alignment with Germany had closed the Dardanelles to Russia, Britain and France thus physically separating Russia from her western allies. Rather quickly the Czar found himself almost completely cut off from the countries with whom he had become aligned. The Standart had narrowly escaped the effects of the early stages of that pact of aggression. Even though the Imperial Family had witnessed first hand the attempted boarding, they had no concept of what might have happened to them had the Yaroslav not arrived when it did. Britian and France were now under a strain. Over the preceding decade they had become dependent upon the grain fields of the Ukraine. In Britain Winston Churchill, the First Lord of the Admiralty, urged immediate seizure of the Dardanelles to restore the vital Mediterranean - Black Sea supply route to Russia. Germany's response to the Russian troop movement was to send troops into Austria. The Russian soldiers that had been transported on the Imperial Train had been sent west to join the ones from Odessa. The Czar wanted to leave his military forces on the Turkish border as a reminder that Turkey had made a foolish move. The Czar was dockside when the Standart arrived in Yalta. The family immediately left the yacht. They had decided to spend a few days at the Imperial summer residence in Belovezhe. Alex-T's father had been deprived of his son's company since February and now June had already merged into July. He was overjoyed to be reunited with his entire family but, it was to the Tsarevich that he devoted his time, or at least that is what he thought. In reality, Alex-P and the Tsarevich frequently switched roles. It was surprising that the Czar did not detect the exchange. In comparing the two boys, Alex-P was more like the image the Czar had for his son. When the doppelganger assumed that role, the two had more fun together. On one such occasion, the Czar had been playing catch. He threw the ball several feet over the head of Alex. Instinctively the boy jumped into the air and caught the missile. Seeing his son in this more athletic role brought great joy to the monarch. The family had been in residence for nearly a week before the Czar received a message from the commander of his Odessa forces, which were still camped along the northern Turkish border. The troops were getting bored with the lack of activity and wanted to return to Odessa. Nicholas thought about this for only a short time before deciding that this was an ideal opportunity for him to share the responsibilities of military leadership with his son. The two could get away from the rest of the family. It would be a little like a summer vacation. The Turks had completely ignored the Russian army's presence. The Czar taking command would show just how serious the matter was. Nicholas had mentioned, in passing, the idea at dinner one evening. Alex-T as the Tsarevich showed little interest. His father chalked that up to having had a hard day. The boy was just tired. To some extent the Czar was correct. The next morning Alex-T had wanted to sleep late, so Alex-P joined the family for breakfast as the Tsarevich. "Aleksey, I have great news. You and I will leave immediately once we have finished breakfast. Everything has been packed and loaded onto a truck. We will take a car as far as Odessa, there we will join a convoy and travel on to the border." Alex-P was overjoyed. "Wow!" But, he worried whether or not he could maintain the charade for an extended period of time --an extended period of time in the intimate company of the real Tsarevich's father. The long period of separation played favorably into the hands of Alex- P; any unusual behavior was discounted as a normal part of the process of passing through adolescence. When they arrived at Odessa they were met by the camp commander who was to personally head the convoy. Alex immediately detected a difference in the way they were treated. The sailors on the Standart treated them with respect but not as though they were gods. The army soldiers could not get used to the presence of the Czar and his young son. Everywhere they went they were stared at. If the enlisted men were approached by Nicholas or Alex they would always stand rigidly at attention. The younger men were obviously quite envious of Alex. Some of them were not much older than he was. Within hours of their arrival at Odessa, messengers began bringing radiograms and telegrams from all over the world. Foreign affairs, which had never been the Czar's strong suit were becoming overly complex, needing decisions that only he could make. The daily communique from the Okhrana kept him informed of the unrest that was being fomented by the Germans. It was not just in Russia. Common people in Serbia and Poland were demonstrating their displeasure with the lack of food and work, while also wanting a better way of life. Even though Austria seemed to be the source of much of the rebellion, the Okhrana was adamant in its estimate that Austria was a puppet of the Kaiser. The camp commander, seeing that the Tsarevich was often left alone with no boys of his own age with whom to play, introduced his son and daughter. Unlike the soldiers, the two children were not in awe of the future Czar of all of the Russias. Soon they began spending many hours together. The son was now fifteen, his sister fourteen. + + + + + + The Village of Pokrovskoe Western Siberia + + + + + + Gregory Rasputin had returned to his native village. For the past six months he had had too much time on his hands. The Czarina and Alexsey had occupied his thoughts prior to their departure in February. He had attempted to assist the Czar in matters of state; but the Monarch, while politely listening to Rasputin's suggestions implemented few, if any, of the Holyman's ideas. Rasputin spent many hours bending the ears of members of the Duma, but again, few of his suggestions were taken seriously. To make matters worse, those politicians with whom he spoke were quite rude. There was now always a plain-clothed policeman stationed at his door. He was certain they were not just regular police. He suspected they were Okrahana. His social life had become a bit too much the same and boring. There was only so much one could drink and far too few women around whom he had not already seduced. The weather had turned warm so he decided that now was a good time to visit his home village. He took the train all the way to Perm and there visited the old woman who had first helped him with the transformation of Alex-P. He had hoped to encounter a gypsy troop or two along the way, but was disappointed; they all seemed to have moved south for the oncoming summer. It was while he was in Pokrovskoe that he heard the report of the assassination of the Austrian Grand Duke. Instinctively he knew that there was trouble ahead. There were no news reports of the attempted kidnapping of the Imperial Family, but Rasputin knew that they were in trouble... desperate trouble. He wired the Czar, cautioning him to be careful in matters of foreign affairs. The wire was handed to the Czar just as his brother Mikhail entered his office. Two hours earlier, he had been visited by his next younger brother, George. Now, with Mikhail's arrival, the telegram, though quickly scanned first, was none-the-less laid aside and eventually forgotten. George's visit should have been predictable. He was next in line to the throne and had always coveted the seat of power. Mikhail had been something of an amateur soldier and often dreamed of leading an army into battle; so the brewing trouble with Turkey looked like an ideal opportunity for him to "take Command" and thus make his mark in the world. He was both forceful and demanding in his offer to lead the "battle" against the Turks. Nicholas repeatedly reminded him that they were not at war. The Russian presence on Turkey's northern border was only a "reminder" that Russia could wipe out the Moslem nation should they choose to do so. The discussion was a heated one, yet both men knew that the Czar's decision would be final. Without warning, the door to the room opened and Alex-P as the Tsarevich, appropriately dressed in an Army officer's uniform, entered. "Papa, the Colonel asked me to tell you that we are ready to leave as soon as you wish." Alex-P had never seen Mikhail and thus did not greet him. Alex-T would have! Alex-P sensed that something was expected of him. Quickly he added, "Did I interrupt something?" "Aleksey, have you nothing to say to your uncle?" It was then that Alex realized what was expected; but the question was: which Uncle was this one?... George or Mikhail? "Of course, sir. I apologize, but I could overhear your conversation from the other room and I didn't think it wise to interrupt, other than to deliver the message from the Colonel." The Czar saved the day by addressing his visitor by name, "Mikhail, I am sorry to end this visit on a harsh note, but we must leave as soon as possible if we are to stay on schedule. As to the matter of which we have been speaking, the timing now is not right; but, I am afraid that we will have needs of your talents all too soon." Mikhail came to attention, gave his brother a stiff military salute and said: "As you see fit" He then sharply turned and left the room. Nicholas got up from his chair and commented: "Aleksey, we must go. Your uncle can be over bearing at times." He then took his son's hand and they left the temporary office. Alex was looking for someone as they entered their car. "Papa, I thought Sergy was coming too." "Yes, the Colonel asked if it would be all right. His boy has been attending Junior Soldier meetings. We will sort that out when we reach our overnight stop." + + + + + + Bivouacking According to Alex-P + + + + + + Our convoy traveled parallel to the coast, but inland a few miles. The terrain through Romania was mostly flat farm land. As we crossed the border into Bulgaria you could see mountains in the distance. By the time we reached the city of Burgas, it became apparent that our confrontation with the Turks was to be a mountainous adventure. Of course, having been raised in the Ural Mountains, I found the prospect most welcome. Ivan and Sergy were not looking forward to the colder climate; yet, in mid July, the change in temperature was most appealing. For some reason that I cannot explain, I had expected the confrontation at the Turkish border to be between two armed camps meeting face to face on an open plain. I was wrong! The Bulgarian- Turkish border runs high in the Strandzha Mountains, about ten miles beyond the first Bulgarian foothills. The mountains extended another twenty miles into Turkey before flattening out. Even though it was mid-July, some of the mountain peaks were capped with snow and the higher we climbed, the colder it became. Sergy and Ivan had joined together as a team. Not a military team, ...so maybe the word 'camaraderie' would be more appropriate. I gathered that the soldier's friendship with the commander's son, combined with the less disciplined movement by motor vehicle, had allowed them to travel together. At first, the Czar had insisted that I be by his side almost all of our waking hours; but, even on the road there was a constant flow of communications that soon encroached upon our time together. Eventually I found myself spending more time with Sergy and Ivan. Unlike the other soldiers, Ivan did not appear to be overpowered by my presence. The closeness of the two boys became more and more obvious. I wondered how they avoided being teased by the older men. The paved road gave way to hardened earth as we began our assent. The vegetation also slowly eroded away, then began to be replaced with several varieties of pine trees. The truck engines were deafening as they labored against the now steep and winding path. We passed a lone sentry. As he saw us approach, he squared away his cap and came to attention. He obviously had not been warned of our coming because, when he saw the face of the Czar, he turned quite red and became stiffer than an icicle. We turned a bend in the road and then the slope increased. You could hear the straining and grinding as each of the larger vehicles shifted into their lowest gear. The lead truck came to a halt. Commanding voices ordered the men first to get out of the vehicles and then to push the trucks up the short, steep incline. Our vehicle was not as overloaded, so we did not have to disembark. Ahead of us, we could see Sergy and Ivan adding their small weight to the task of pushing. Once we had passed this short but sttep rise the road became less stressful and the men were again able to board the vehicles. The commander said that we should be at the border camp within a few minutes. The forest gave way to an open plain. We were now on a plateau. In the distance were more trees, but this in-between area was a flat meadow. Hundreds of tents had been erected. The first ones we came to were of the finest quality. It appeared that the officer in charge had set up camp with the officers at the rear, the least senior of personnel were the closest to the border. The base commander was the first to alight from his vehicle. He was discussing something with the officer in charge of the troops. The commander was pointing at the officers' tents and I could overhear parts of their conversation. The base commander felt the present layout of the tents was dangerous. The officers' tents should be with those of the troops they commanded. We disembarked and walked toward the border. A stone wall had been erected which extended from each side of the road to the forest. A few feet beyond this wall, and in the center of the road, lay a pile of stones, perhaps three feet high. Atop this pile of rock rose a sign written in Arabic, which warned: "This is the Turkish Border. This road is closed. Trespassers will be shot on sight." Beyond the border there was only the open road and more forest. When we reached the boundary, the base commander and the officer in charge of the troops joined us. "Your Imperial Highness, should we remove those stones and proceed?" The Czar turned toward the young officer and replied: "No, we do not wish to invade Turkey. We are here just to remind them that we have no qualms about doing so, if necessary. I presume those rocks that are blocking the road are in Turkish territory?" Then, as an after thought, he asked: "Is the wall in Bulgaria or Turkey?" The base commander spoke next: "I am certain that it is in Bulgaria. If it were in Turkey they would have put the stones in the road next to the wall." Papa then directed them to remove the wall to the right of the road for about 25 feet. This would not be an aggressive move, yet would give us easy access should we decide to cross into Turkey. An officer directed a dozen men to proceed with the removal. From a distance, I saw a figure come out of the Turkish forest and walk toward us. As he drew nearer I could see that he was small in stature. He wore a fur jacket and cap. His trousers were black and dirty. His shoes were not military, yet an army carbine was slung over his shoulder. He walked directly to the pile of stones in the middle of the road, climbed to the top and spoke loudly. An interpreter told us that he had said that he was the border patrol and he was ordered not to let anyone pass. His authoritative voice was at odds with his appearance. He could not have been much older than I am and certainly was younger than Ivan. His face showed no sign of hair. He was about my height, but weighed much less. His hair was black and ragged. He would not have been out of place tending goats in my home village. The boy's eyes were black and full of fire. He did not smile, yet his countenance could hardly be described as angry. The interpreter told the boy that we had no intentions of invading his country. The boy looked doubtful. It was then that Papa came forward and addressed the lad. "I am Nicholas Romanov. I am the Czar of Russia. What is your name young man?" Papa's direct approach had stunned most of those within hearing distance. There was a delay as the interpreter translated the Czar's words into Turkish. The boy looked dumbfounded when he realized that the Czar, himself, was talking to him. "Isad, Sir. But, I warn you, I have orders to shoot anyone who attempts to come down this road." "In that case, Isad, would you do me the honor of walking over here to the border so that I may shake your hand and assure you of our peaceful intentions." The boy looked even more astounded as the Czar's words were translated. Slowly he climbed down from his perch and, while keeping a wary eye towards the others, he walked toward the wall. He stood rigidly at attention as though he were in the presence of his own commander. Nicholas now stood less than a foot from the young soldier. He offered the boy his hand. They shook. The Czar said, "It is too bad that you are not Russian. I would like to have a brave, strapping young man like you in our Army. You are about the same age as my own son." The Czar, while still holding the boy's hand, partially turned and beckoned me to join him. "Alexsey, I would like for you to meet a brave Turkish soldier, Isad." The interpreter converted the message. I extended my hand and the boy shook it vigorously. The Czar again spoke to the boy, "Isad, we are here because your people attempted to kidnap Alexksey, his mother and his sisters. We want your people to understand that we did nothing to provoke their attack, but we are not afraid to destroy Turkey and all of her people." I could feel the boy's hand tremble as the words were translated. It was then that I spoke. I asked the translator to ask Isad if he would like something to eat. His eyes grew large. It was obvious that he had eaten nothing -maybe for days. I asked Papa to have some food brought. Miraculously a sandwich of meat appeared. Isad took the offering, held it in his hand for just a moment, then devoured it all in three huge bites. He said something that I presumed was "thank you" and returned to his perch, but this time, he sat atop it, legs dangling down, and watched as we walked back toward the encampment. A tent had been erected for me that was surrounded by five others, each occupied by members of Ivan's company. Sergy asked if it would be comfortable enough, then mentioned that his bedroll was in the next tent and close enough to hear me call him. I was tired from the long day's motor trip and considered retiring early. The sounds of men getting ready to eat reminded me that I had not eaten since noon. The camp had been reorganized into circular groups, each company separate from the next. Fire pits had been established in the center of the groups and each company's cook was preparing the last meal of the day. Curiously, I looked toward Turkey and saw Isad still sitting atop his pile of rocks, his legs swinging from side to side. The pounding sounds of a Doumbek, the goblet shaped drum of the Arab world reached my ears and brought back memories of my Katrina. The beating dimmed and was joined by the fiery, enthusiastic sounds of a violin and the riqq. The music was earthy music, smoky music, fire and water music. The 9/8 beat was a hot tempo and distinctively Gypsy --with an Arabic influence. The sounds of hands beating on logs were soon joined by those of muffled feet dancing on the raw earth. Out of nowhere the throaty whistle of the 'Ud added a sparkle. I saw Sergy moving toward the music. He turned toward me and beckoned me to follow. Despite the cold mountain air, soldiers had stripped to the waist and were dancing. They crouched, leaned backward, and then defied gravity as they kicked one leg in the air, then the other. The flickering red and orange glow from the fire reflected off their bare skin creating a sensuous atmosphere --a sensuous atmosphere without women. The smell of cooking cabbage and black bean soup permeated the air. The dancing stopped as one man after another left to fill his mess bowl with dinner. I said: "Sergy, could you send a bowl of Borscht over to Isad. The smell must be driving him mad." The boy sought out Ivan who filled his own mess bowl and walked into the night toward the border. I half expected the music to resume once the food was gone, but it did not, so I left the clearing and entered my tent. I found a pan of water sitting on a box, together with a wash cloth and a small towel. I proceeded to strip and wash myself of the day's accumulation of dirt and grime. The water was warmer than the night air, so I presumed someone had warmed it for me. But it must have been sometime ago as the wetness brought a chill to my body. Quickly I slipped nakedly between the blankets. My mind was occupied. I could not get the memory of the Turkish boy out of my thoughts. It seemed strange to note how the friendly contact of a celebrity like the Czar could change an enemy into an ally; yet that was what appeared to have happened. Apparently, I had fallen asleep since I was awakened by Sergy who said: "Psst! Psst! Tsarevich, I need to speak with you." Instantly, I was alert even though I had obviously fallen asleep. "Is that you Sergy?" "Yes. May I come in?" "Of course." He pushed past the closed flap. I could see him kneeling along side my bed. "Aleksey, Isad would like to speak with you." "Who?" I asked. "Isad, the Turkish border soldier." It took me a moment to equate "Border Soldier" with the young boy who had been sitting atop the pile of rocks in the center of the road. "Where is he?" "Just outside." "Does he speak Russian? I speak no Arabic." "Ivan speaks a little Arabic and has been teaching the boy a few phrases so that he can communicate." "Where is Ivan?" I asked. "He is taking Isad's place as Border Patrol. If someone comes along he will send for Isad." "Bring him in. He isn't armed is he?" Sergy kind of chuckled, "If he is, he must have shoved the weapon up his behind." Sergy backed out of the tent. Immediately, I saw the silhouette of Isad as he crawled into the tent. He was bare from the waist up. I guessed that he had given his fur coat to Ivan so that, from a distance, it would not appear that he had left his post. He stood bent over, looking down at me. He was shaking from the cold. I pointed toward one of my blankets so that he might cover himself. He misunderstood and instead dropped his trousers, lifted the blanket and slid in alongside me. For just a moment, I thought maybe Isad was a gift from Sergy and Ivan. I turned on to my back. The boy was on his side facing me. "Your Highness! Please put back wall." I hesitated before replying and, in that moment, he added: "If no wall, I dead." His hand touched my hip and he continued: "I do anything. Please put wall back." Before I could respond, he ducked his head under the covers and kissed my abdomen. My petooshock immediately came to life. I put my hands on his head and pulled him back so that I could look into his eyes. Realizing the harm that we may have done, I replied: "Yes. We will put the wall back." Again, he slipped his head under the covers, but this time he kissed me several times, going lower each time until the head of my chlen was resting in his ear. I could not have him believe that this was my price for seeing that the wall would be restored, so again, I pulled his head above the blanket, kissed him lightly on the cheek and said: "Come, we will speak with the Czar." Sergy was sitting on a log near the fire pit. He seemed surprised to see me come out of the tent. "Sergy, do you have a jacket or shirt that Isad can borrow. I must see my father at once." Sergy removed his own shirt and handed it to the Turk. "I am going to bed anyway. Just throw it in my tent when you come back." Each company had a sentry and we were challenged as we moved from circle to circle. There were two sentries just outside of the Czar's tent. The light from a lantern inside told me that its occupant had not yet retired. One of the soldiers stepped inside and said: "Your Imperial Majesty, the Tsarevich wishes to speak with you. He has the Turkish boy with him." I explained the situation to the Czar. He smiled, put his arms around me and said: "The fruit of war is 'death'. The fruit of compassion is 'life'. Of course Aleksey, use Ivan's troops to restore the wall." He reached over, and laid his hand on Isad's head and pulled him toward us; then hugged the boy to us as though he were my brother. We roused Sergy and told him of the task ahead of us. Isad went back to his pile of rocks, exchanged the shirt for his fur jacket and resumed his post. It took less than two hours for the wall to be restored. By 1 A.M., we were back in our beds and Isad sat on his pile of stones trying vainly to look fierce. Over the next few days, the commanding officer had ordered his men to practice marching and short order drill to keep them occupied. The only Turk we saw was Isad. On the 28th of July, a messenger arrived on horseback and sought immediate audience with the Czar. Austria and Hungary had declared war on Serbia and were even now marching toward the Serbian Border. Quickly, papa abandoned the Turkish maneuver. We packed our tents, loaded the trucks and prepared to depart. I looked toward Turkey. I wanted to wave good-bye to Isad but, for the first time since our arrival, he was not at his post. It wasn't until later that I heard how Ivan's company had added a new recruit; a dusty skinned young boy who could barely speak Russian. The Czar quickly dispatched orders that all available troops were to be deployed along the Serbian Border. In response to our mobilization, Germany issued a declaration of war and, by the time we were back in Odessa, our troops had crossed the border into Serbia. The Duma was in disarray. As is the Russian nature, each faction was passionate in its position. Some opposed the war with Germany, others wanted to "wipe out the Huns." Thousands of peasants arrived at army bases, volunteering their services. In St. Petersburg there were crowds of people looking for a way to participate in the war. We were boarding the train to return to the capitol when the Czar received a Telegram from Rasputin who was still in the village of Pokrovskoe. "Great Father. Use extreme caution. Do not fight with the Germans." But, the telegram had come too late. We had not declared war on Germany; they had declared war on us. The Czar had little time for his family during the trip north. Alex-T and I switched roles and I spent most of the time telling him the details of my adventure. When I told him about Isad, he smiled and asked: "Do you think one day I will meet him?" "I hope not. I suspect he could tell the difference between us." "Oh? Is there something you have not told me." "It is hard to tell how much one learns about someone whose chlen is in your ear." + + + + + + The Next week by Alex-P + + + + + + Within the span of the first week of August, the world had changed. Germany had declared war on Russia. As called for in our treaty with France, she ordered total mobilization. Immediately, Germany reacted by demanding free passage through Belgium. France protested in the strongest terms and Germany declared war on France. Belgium refused Germany's demand for free passage and Germany declared that she was at war with Belgium. Before Belgium could react, the Kaiser's troops, under Gen. Von Kluck, crossed the border but were halted at Liege by allied forces. Anti-aggression treaties had been violated so Great Britain declared that she was also at war with Germany. Telegrams, radiograms and telephone calls came pouring into the Alexander Palace. Each message seemed to convey still one more crisis that needed to be dealt with and each crisis required information from some department or agency in St. Petersburg. At first, the Czar attempted to travel back and forth from Tsarskoye Selo to the city, but his day started too early and ended too late. He began staying overnight at the Winter Palace and we saw less and less of him. Then the Czarina began spending her nights at the Winter Palace, leaving the children in the care of the servants. Tatiana attempted to telephone Piotr at the Admiralty, but the young sailor was always 'away on an errand'. Uncle Gregori returned from Pokrovskoe with the intent of influencing the Czar; but, war was an all-consuming effort that left the monarch with no time to spend on such matters. It was then that Gregori resumed his role as 'teacher' to Alex-T and myself. In the past six months Alex-T and I had shared everything. We had drawn closer together in both behavior and appearance. In the beginning it was I who had been taught the mind games and exercised that skill through practice assignments in 'observation'. Now Gregori brought the Tsarevich into our program. After a week of practice in observing body language and predicting the behavior of others, he suddenly changed the direction of our studies to 'sexual matters'. It was not a gradual change in subject either. On Friday, we had spent the entire day observing the servants and writing reports. On Monday, the day began with Gregori demanding that Alex-T and I show him our penises. He looked at them very carefully, then asked us to masturbate so that he could see how much difference there was between us. Later that evening, both of us were enthusiastically contemplating the next step in our education. I kept thinking back to that time over a year ago when Rasputin had taken us to the village of the gypsies and was hoping for more of the same; however, I cautioned Alex-T that we would probably be put through exercises designed to strengthen our willpower. There was one area of our behavior that was very different. I had been observing the Tsarevich's behavior when it came to matters of sex. From the beginning, we had played around together, but he had always been the instigator. He always came to my bed; I seldom went to his. Then there had been the incident with the Arab boy in Algiers --when Alex-T had sneaked off the Standart and returned with the love bite and the golden pendant of a cock and balls. Finally, there was that incident when Piotr had thought that I was Alex-T and I had gotten him off. By comparison, I was quite different. My first interest in sex had been with Katrina. Of course one could argue that what had transpired between the Gypsy Boy and myself had not been without its pleasures; but, I certainly had resisted the opportunity to get my chlen sucked upon by Isad. I had used my willpower and did not seek to gain from the boy's disadvantaged position. Underlining this entire subject was the relationship which had developed between the Tsarevich and Nijinsky and which had also resulted in Nijinksy being removed from the Palace. Uncle Gregori's position, on matters of sex, was that it constituted a side of human nature which could be used to gain an advantage. I knew he would not object to my letting someone suck upon my penis if I had a good reason to allow it --if, as a result, I gained an advantage; hoever, he would never agree if it were merely a matter of pleasure. He knew about Alex-T and Nijinsky and had done nothing to hamper that relationship --that is until it was clear that there was nothing to gain by letting it continue. Be that as it may, and despite both of us being aware of all of the above, Alex-T and I were looking forward to an evening's adventure in the village of the gypsies. On Thursday, the Tsarevich became impatient and asked Uncle Gregori if we would be staying at his apartment in St. Petersburg over the weekend. Rasputin looked a little surprised at his question, but then told us that the village of the gypsies was no more. As soon as war had broken out, the gypsies had loaded their wagons and headed south. "But, there is a delightful nudist beach just north of Gdov. We will leave here tomorrow morning and spend the entire weekend in the company of those delightful people." Suddenly the mood changed as Alex-T and I began looking forward to two days in the sun. I doubt if either of us realized what being a nudist was all about. Oh sure, we knew we would be unclothed and, to some extent, that did add a sense of adventure, so we teased each other about being seduced by many women. Our sense of fun had evaporated during that long siege of the Standart at Istanbul and had never really been restored. As the days passed, the sense of danger and the news of war took away any feeling of frivolity which we might have sought to maintain. Now, quiet suddenly, the prospects of the next few day's trip held at least a promise of pure pleasure. Uncle Gregori surprised us. When he arrived, he was wearing a dark cloak with a hat which totally hid him. At his direction, I wore a rather drab gray dress and a straw hat. The Tsarevich had dyed his hair a dark brown and wore a simple child's suit; trousers, shirt and jacket. We left the palace in the company of some of the departing night staff. It was still early on Friday when we boarded a train which took us west through Krosnoye Selo. Gdov was less than 130 miles distant from St. Petersburg. Uncle Gregori told us to be quiet and that he would be back shortly. He disappeared into the men's toilet. When he returned we could not believe our eyes. He had discarded the cloak and hat. He was clean- shaven and his hair was short. No one would have recognized him as being Gregori Rasputin. We changed trains in Kingisepp. While we were waiting for the one to Gdov, we went into the men's room. I was instructed to change into a boy's suit like Alex-T was wearing. I did not alter the color of my hair. The party that then boarded the train to Gdov was a man, who could have been mistaken for a tutor, accompanied by two boys, who looked like brothers, on holiday. The train station at Gdov was in the center of the small town. It was a short walk to a livery stable where we hired a horse and carriage. The proprietor did not know where "The Sun-Shine Camp" was located, but Gregori had previously been given good instructions. It was past two in the afternoon when our carriage turned off the main road which we had been following to the north. Our new route was hardly more than a path, although a bit wider. We had traveled less than fifteen minutes when we were stopped by a gate across the road. A sign read: "Sun-Shine Camp. Private Property. Clothing Optional. No Trespassing." An old man shouted to us through the window of a small shack: "Go away. This is private property. Members ONLY!" Gregori returned the greeting, in kind. "We are members. Open the damned gate." The old man came out to us to inspect a document which Gregori was carrying. Under my breath, I said to the Tsarevich: "Ughhhh! I'd hate to see him without clothes." The gate guard continued: "Just past the second curve, you'll find a place to tie your horse. You need to get naked there. but don't leave your duds in the carriage. We've had problems with neighborhood kids carrying 'em away." We had passed through the gate and were soon out of the gate guard's sight. There were four other carriages parked. The horses were tied to a hitching post next to a watering trough. The attendant was a boy not quite as old as Piotr. His hair was red and ragged. It seemed odd to hear this youth, dressed in his short work trousers, bare chested, repeat the instruction of the gate keeper. "I'll take care of your horse. You need to get naked here. Don't leave your duds in the carriage. We've had problems with kids carrying 'em away." Uncle Gregori stepped down from the carriage and handed the reigns to the youth, then began to strip. The boy just stood there, watching. Finally, Gregori said, "Come on boys take them off. Fold them neatly so they won't get wrinkled; we won't need them again until we return to St. Petersburg." The stable boy asked, "You'se staying for the entire weekend? Or is you just here for the afternoon?" I took off my coat, then shirt and shoes. The attendant was now watching me as closely as he had Uncle Gregori. The attention caused my petooshock to stiffen. Alex-T began to laugh. "And we aren't even at the beach yet." In a stern voice Gregori said: "Alex. Remember to use your will- power." He then turned to the Tsarevich and said, "Peter has had practice in controlling himself. You have not. So don't feel so superior. Now strip." Alex-T turned toward me and away from the attendant. He removed his jacket and shirt, then loosened his belt. When he tried to lower his pants, he could not get the cuffs past his shoes. He bent over to pull them off. The attendant was staring at Alex-T's naked butt and I thought I saw a stirring in the attendant's trousers. Once the pants were off, Alex stood and I laughed. He had dyed his pubic hair to match the hair on his head, but perspiration had caused the color to run, creating long, dark streaks along his inner thighs. At a quick glance, it looked like he had diarrhea. Uncle Gregori started to laugh, then stopped. He asked the attendant to take a look at our horse's front right hoof and, as he diverted the boy's attention, he motioned for me to use the horses watering trough to help the Tsarevich wash away the brown streaks. Once he was clean, his light colored pubic hair contrasted sharply with the dark brown of his head hair; but, there was nothing that could be done about it. If we were to go into the camp, we would have to do so without clothing. We thanked the hired hand and proceeded toward the ocean. Just before we were out of sight, the attendant shouted, "Send one of the boys back before sundown. If he helps me brush and stable the horses, I'll not charge you for takin' care of yours." Gregori did not respond, but I could see that he was looking for an advantage worthy of having one of us return. I could see none and thus promptly forgot about the offer. We had turned the final bend in the road and were immediately in what could best be described as a compound. There was a log fence that protected three sides from intruders; the fourth side was the ocean. On the far end of the compound were two tennis courts. Next to the gate was a long, low, unpainted, wooden building. A gray haired man stood behind a counter and looked our way. "Are you the Kokoroffs?" Uncle Gregori whispered: "I am glad he asked, I'd forgotten the name I used to make the reservation." Then he replied, "Yes, and these are my two sons, Peter and Alex." The man came around the counter and said: "Come, let me introduce you to our other guests." Our host was in his late forties. His body was firm and brown from the sun. By comparison with Uncle Gregori, this man was in good shape. While Gregori was thin, his buttocks did not exhibit the firm muscle tone to be noted in those of our host. The man's penis was nowhere near as large as Gregori's, yet it swung freely from side to side as he walked. The gray to be seen on his head had not yet invaded his pubic regions. In the back of my mind I had imagined Camp Sunshine as being a place of sexual abandon; a place where everyone was engaged in a grand orgy; a place were all of the men were erect and buried within the women. It was, therefore, a disappointment to see all of these unclothed people engaged in only those same activities which one might observe amidst people who were fully clothed: swimming, tennis, playing cards, or munching on a sandwich. We approached a group of three: a woman, a girl and a boy. "Sophie, I want you to meet the Kokoroffs. This is my wife and my children Yaslov and Chennie. The girl turned toward us and I almost swooned! She looked exactly like my Katrina; same dark hair, same fiery eyes and a smile that made me fall in love all over again. My chlen immediately jumped to full attention. The girl did not lower her gaze, yet I was certain she must have seen my reaction. If I covered myself with my hand, it would draw their attention to my discomfort. While I smiled and tried to ignore my lower half, my effort was a miserable failure. The Camp Director delivered me from my embarrassment. "Yarslov, why don't you show Alex and Peter the best swimming part of the beach? The cool water should be most refreshing after their long journey from St. Petersburg." The girl looked disappointed as we turned and ran for the safety of the water, her brother in the lead; however, the look on her mother's face practically shouted that her daughter should not tag along. Then Yarslov's next line broke us up: "So you want to fuck my sister? It's hard to hide your feelings out here." Alex-T's only comment was: "I guess!" We hit the cool water with a splash, but it was so shallow that my erect chlen dug into the sand and caused me to yelp. The Tsarevich looked questioningly at me, while Yarslov guessed correctly. "Ya gotta watch yer skag. It's not very deep here." Our host dove toward Alex-T and suddenly they were wrestling. In fear of possible injury to the Tsarevich I entered the fray and substituted myself. When we came to the surface, all of the hair dye had washed from Alex's hair and he and I looked exactly alike. I winked at Alex and said, "I guess the game is up. We can no longer deny that we are twins." Yarslov laughed and pointed at my sanded chlen and said: "Well not exactly. Yours looks like it has been in a pencil sharpener." We helped Alex wash away the remnants of the hair dye while Yars continued to talk. "I guess you guys were hoping for a lot of girls; most visitors do." "Yeah." I replied. "Is your sister the only girl our age around here?" "She and I are the only ones that live here, but a few of our members have kids our age." "Well do you..." Alex started to ask, but was interrupted by Yars. "Girls are girls whether they are here or someplace else. They don't behave any differently than they do in school. The only thing is that we boys have a difficult time hiding how we feel about a girl." Then he chuckled, pointed at my recovering petooshock and said: "But I guess you already found that out for yourself. It takes a little while to get used to being naked in front of everyone, especially cute girls. But in time you learn to cope with it. But there is still the occasional moment when I catch a bone. It's more embarrassing when Mom is there." Alex asked: "Have you had your first girl yet?" "You mean have I fucked my first girl yet?" Alex nodded, "yes." "Oh yeah! There is this one girl at school that has had the hots for me ever since she learned that I lived here at the camp. About a month ago she slipped me a note and said she was coming down for a midnight swim. Well, I spent the whole day fantasizing about what it would be like... you know, have someone else work on my tool. Everyone around here goes to sleep shortly after the sun goes down. Shit, I couldn't get any sleep. I kept looking out my window at the beach. Every minute seemed like an hour, but finally I saw her walking along the shore line. I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my waist and ran down the beach. She laughed at me, grabbed my towel and threw it as far as she could. Of course my chlen was totally hard. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, pulling my body against hers so that my cock was drooling all over her dress. We hadn't spoken a word. She had her hands on the cheeks of my buttocks. I thought I was going to loose it right then, but she broke away and dropped her dress." I was looking at Alex, his chlen had become completely erect. Eagerly, I asked: "...And?" "I wanted to do it right then and there, but she wanted to go for a swim first. So we swam out till the water was deep enough for us to stand with just our chins out of the water. Then we embraced again. Her kisses were like nothing I had ever experienced. Her tongue probed every inch of my mouth and my chlen was pushed up against her vagina. I tried wiggling around hoping that it would find its way inside of her, but it didn't. Finally I put my finger in her slit and tried to enter her, but the ocean water made it difficult. My sister had once said something about how a tongue in her ear got her passionate, so I began nibbling on her ear lobe and breathing hot air into her ear canal. It worked. She ground her pelvis into mine, seemingly as eager as was I. Then we swam further down the beach and found a little mound of leaves." I couldn't help but notice that all three of us were standing there in the water with fully erect boners. He continued: "It was embarrassing. We had lain down, she was on the bottom, with her legs spread apart. I was kneeling trying to find the hole and kept missing it. She grabbed my chlen and started to guide me in. I can still feel the heat on the head of my cock. I was so close to entering and I shot my load without even getting the head inside. "But, I guess she was experienced, because she told me that she was glad that I did, because after a few minutes rest we could do it for a long time. She was right and we did." Without realizing what we were doing, all three of us had let our hands cover and massage our erect chlens. Alex asked: "Has it happened again?" "Oh yes. She comes down here every night. Three weeks ago she asked me if I knew anyone that would like to meet her girl friend. I told her 'no,' but I'd keep my eyes open for someone. Then she told me she would be having her period in a few days and asked if I would swim with her girl friend till her period had passed. I agreed and, for five days, I was making love to the friend. Then things got out of hand. The first girl recovered and the second one wanted to continue, so I told the first girl that we should meet at ten-thirty instead of midnight. Then I told the second girl to meet me at one in the morning. That gave me about an hour to recover." Alex and I just stood there in awe. Yarslov was living every boy's dream. I said, "Wow!". Yarslov continued, "Well, it is great, but it really tires me out. This has been going on every night for almost two weeks." He paused for a long time with a somewhat evil grin on his face, then asked: "If you would like to meet them, I'll suggest it and, if they say OK, I'll introduce you tomorrow night." We heard the sound of a gong and Yarslov said: "You'd better get those down. That's the dinner gong." He started to walk away, turned back toward us and said: "If I were you, I'd jack-off right now; otherwise, those things are going to be up and down for the rest of the day." We followed his suggestion and returned to the compound just a few minutes later --with much less of a problem. Uncle Gregori was chatting with the camp director and a blonde haired woman of no more than thirty. Alex-T observed this and asked: "Do you think he'll invite her to spend the night?" "I doubt it. Our cabin is far to small and we have only the one bed." Dinner was a simple meal, served from the same counter that was used to check in guests. It consisted of dark peasant bread, a lumpy soup of horse meat, beets and cabbage. I looked around for something to drink and was surprised that there was no Madera or even Vodka, in fact there was nothing alcoholic. Later we learned that alcoholic beverages were not allowed at Camp Sunshine. Even though we were tired from our traveling, Alex-T and I couldn't get to sleep. All we could think of was Yarslov, the two girls and the fact that his first encounter of the evening was scheduled for ten- thirty. Uncle Gregori must have been equally as tired because he was snoring heavily. At ten o'clock we crept out of bed and found our way down the beach to a clump of bushes where we could watch Yarslov. The spot was just beyond the fence and had a good view of both the ocean and the mound of leaves that he had pointed out to us. At ten-twenty we heard someone coming down the beach. It was the girl. As she drew closer we could see that she was wearing a thin, white dress. At first we thought it was a night shirt, but as the breeze caught it we could see that it was much flimsier. She looked toward the compound and, not seeing anyone, she waded out into the water. The pale moonlight formed a halo around her head, causing her hair to sparkle. She turned back to shore and once again looked toward the compound. Then she lifted her dress over her head, moved back to the dry sand and tossed it onto the beach. Then we heard Yars moving stealthily through the compound. The girl moved further out into the water till it covered her hips. Yars, already erect, moved faster, but the resistance of the water slowed his progress. They embraced. His lips sought hers and, even in the dim night-light, we could see that their mouths had opened and that they were devouring each other. Alex had moved much closer to me. He put his arm around my waist and whispered: "Do you think they are going to do it. You know, do it right there --right there in the water?" "No. Don't think so, remember he said they tried but the ocean water made it difficult." As though I was the director of this play, the two actors walked, arms around each other, to the mound of leaves. They continued to kiss and we could see Yars' chlen flapping against her thigh. Quickly her hand grasped the intrusive member and moved it between them. I could tell by the way Yars moved that it was not just between them, but rather in her. Still standing, they began a rhythmic movement. As they both moved closer together, she lifted up on her toes; as they withdrew, she settled back on to her heels. "Why don't they just lay down and DO IT?" Alex asked. "I think they will get around to it." It was then that I felt Alex's hand on my Chlen. I reciprocated and we stood there jacking each other off as we watched Yars and his girl lay down. As the pace of their movements increased, so did ours. Within a few minutes, perhaps it was only seconds, we all four reached our climax. We rested as we continued to observe the activity. Eventually, the girl dressed and the two walked away from us toward the trees. The girl disappeared into the forest and Yars retraced his steps toward the compound. He was less than ten feet from our clump of bushes when we heard him say, "OK Guys you can come out of there now. We'll talk tomorrow. I've got to get some sleep. I have to be back here in a couple of hours. Oh Yeah. I almost forgot. I asked her and she said she'd love to meet you two." The boy had continued his trek back to his cabin. Alex and I were embarrassed about being caught watching the action so we stayed concealed and did not reply, but his comments had brought our wilting penises back to full rigidity. Our passions having been partially satiated, allowed us to sleep through the 1 A.M. encounter. Saturday morning started with a frisky wake-up call from the camp director in the form of a loud and continuous banging of the dinner gong. Yars' sister knocked on our door and asked if we would be up to a quick game of tennis before breakfast. Alex-T rolled his eyes and said: "Forget it." But I was eager. The vision of Yars and his girl friend in the throes of passion, plus my memories of my Katrina, plus my very erect chlen combined to form an irresistible force. Uncle Gregori half-way raised himself from the bed, while Alex-T buried his head under his pillow. By exercising a magnificent amount of will-power, I was able to get my chlen under control and, even though it was still a little larger than it should have been, I raced out the door. "I haven't played in a long time, so you will have to be gentle with me." Yars' sister, Chennie, demonstrated the basic strokes and then we started hitting the ball back and forth. The pace quickened as she saw how rapidly I improved with every stroke. My ego was soaring with self-confidence, until she began developing a vicious top spin drive, lashing the ball into the corners of the court --and always inside the chalk line. This kept me leaping from one side to the other. I could feel my chlen stretching in the heat and my balls were hitting my legs. It was going to be a hot day and I called for a break to catch my breath. Chennie quickly agreed and joined me on a bench. Her face was perspiring, there were trickles of sweat running down her neck and into the crevice between her breasts; she was breathing hard. My balls were itching and I desperately wanted to scratch them, but I was too embarrassed to do so. "You aren't half bad. Want to play a match with Yars and Mom?" I nodded "Yes" and she eagerly ran across the court yelling at her brother. I wasn't sure that this was going to be a fair match. I had only played occasionally during the past year on the Alexander palace courts. Usually it had been because Anastasia or Tatiana were looking for someone to practice with. Chennie appeared to be about sixteen, while her mother looked to be in her forties. While we waited, Chennie briefly reviewed doubles tactics and I quickly understood the reasoning behind them. Our opponents served first. Yars served to Chennie who hit a forehand smash down the center of the court. Yars, coming to the net, could manage only a weak volley return that I slammed into his feet for a winner. The match was 6-0, 6-0. A few of the members had gathered along the court. Then the Dinner Gong notified everyone that breakfast was now or never. Reluctantly we yielded, but not before a challenge to continue the competition immediately after we ate. Even though I was hungry, I ate sparsely. I wanted to be ready for the game. I secretly hoped that Yars and his mother would eat too much and be sluggish when we resumed our play, but I was disappointed. Uncle Gregori whispered in my ear that if I concentrated on the body language of my opponents, winning the game would not be difficult. Yars' mother served first. I thought she had won the match with that single serve. But then Chennie served to her brother who was receiving deep. It came off her racket like a bullet and kicked up chalk as it hit in the service box while moving at an angle sharply away from Yars. He could only watch it hit the screen behind the adjacent court. In many ways, it was a strange match. Like the other it ended 6-0, 6-0. In a display of good-natured defeat, Yars padded around the net, put his arm around my waist and said, "Let's go for a swim." Ignoring his sister, he pulled me toward the water. I looked around to see where Alex was and saw him still eating his breakfast. Chennie had poured herself a glass of orange juice and seated herself across from him. "So are you up to a bit of fun with the girls tonight?" Yars asked. "Of course, and so is Alex. But how are we going to do this? Are you just going to introduce us? Or what?" "It's going to be better than that. Both girls are coming at Midnight, so there will be all five of us. Later this afternoon we need to make a little camp in the forest where we will be out of sight. There is a good spot just around the bend of the shore line." "That makes three guys and two girls. Would Chennie like to join us?" I asked. "We can't do that. No one knows that I go out every night." I would have preferred to spend the afternoon in Chennie's company, but Yars and Alex were looking forward to the adventure with great anticipation and so I could not let them down. We had spent most of the afternoon constructing our little nest. We had hidden blankets inside of a beach bag that we used to make one large bed. Yars began to call it his "Play Pen". And of course we talked about our fantasy for the night time activity. Yars suggested that we each take turns with each girl by playing "Spin the Bottle". And that after a while we might even vote on who was the best at doing what with whom. It was close to sundown when the dinner gong signaled the last meal of the evening. Reluctantly we left our nest and joined the others in the compound. There was a lot of activity. Several new couples had checked in. They had brought a copy of the St. Petersburg News. The headlines screamed, "BATTLE AT TANNENBERG THOUSANDS PERISH" Uncle Gregori was greatly concerned about the news and said he needed to talk with the Czar as soon as possible. Thus, quite unexpectedly, and with great disappointment, we bid our new friends farewell and returned to the capital. Alex and I wondered what poor Yars was going to do with both girls at the same time. We were envious. All author22 books are available in paperback from Amazon.com, and are also available as with colorful illustration in html format for viewing on your own PC, or in Franklin Rocket-eBook format. Contact author22@aol.com for further information.