Date: Thu, 3 Aug 2006 07:13:29 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "Wankin' Across Eastern Europe, " Part One Russia (Masturbation)

Even if you wank, if you're under 18 you can't wank here.  Go away and come
back when you are of voting age


I am 45.  Excellent shape.  Handsome.  Maybe that description may not be
yours but I think so.  I am a freelance photojournalist.  Jobs come not too
close together but I pull a light sled: One room digs, two outfits, cheap
take out, no car.  Right now I am living on a big score.  I stumbled on a
well-known male rock star smooching with a boy pal.  I got a full five
minutes of it and it appeared everywhere.  Maybe you saw it.  I got four
thousand for that and I have hardly dipped into it but I was beginning to
worry since nothing has come up in over a month.

I was drinking coffee in an East Village caf‚.  Good coffee is my only
legal vice.  A young guy, Marc by name, recognized me from an article about
me.  He came over to my table and gestured a question to sit down.  I
nodded.  Being a photographer and tend to examine people closely.  He was a
very handsome kid, maybe twenty, tight light brown tight curls spilling all
over and dropping almost into his pale almond eyes.  The exotic makeup of
the upper part of his face was mitigated by the lush sexy lower part with
pillowy lips, small white teeth and diagonal dimples creasing both cheeks.
He was so great looking, I wondered if he was gay.  I am, but perhaps you
know that.

He was talking in a lovely deep croony voice.  I found myself so fascinated
with the pitch and the way his pink tongue worked the words that I think I
missed the first part.

"I was zoning out a moment.  Can you repeat the beginning?"

"I have a trust fund.  I want to do something interesting with it.  I got
this idea and you are the best person to help me realize it.  I propose a
trip, I pay all expenses, to several East European countries to photograph
boys wanking."

I laughed.  "I thought you said wanking."

"I did.  Listen kids will do anything for money.  If we get some
interesting wank sessions on film, we can probably sell it to a gay porno
distributor for millions.  We split the profit.  What do you think?"

"Are you gay.  Not that it's a bad thing.  I am though. Does that make any
difference?"

"I don't think I am gay.  I never had any gay sex but lots of regular sex.
I am a free soul, very accepting."

We met several times mapping out the procedure.  We both agreed it should
be simple.  Marc would man the camera and I would interview the kid and
sort of direct the action.  We decided the best way to recruit was to
locate and gay guy and get him to make the contacts.  We also felt that we
would offer hundred bucks for undressing and being photographed, hundred
bucks more for wanking, and an additional for cumming on camera.  That came
to us for no reason and proved to be the right incentive.  Maybe they would
have done it for less, but what the hell.

We decided to start in St.Petersberg.

It's a l-o-o-o-n-n-n-g flight.  I sat up the whole time.  Marc slept like a
baby for almost the whole flight, waking to eat and then back to dreamland.
He certainly was a cutey but I was determined to make this a business
relationship.  We took first class, that was good idea.  I could stretch my
six-foot four frame and legs.  The food was pretty good.  This was the
Swedish Airlines.  There was an excellent looking steward but I resisted.

The airport at St.Petersberg sure looked different that a U.S. airport.
The people seemed poor, their luggage cheesy.

We were assailed with Gypsies, at least what's what I call them. Every stop
we made there ware these dark complexioned kids.  They all looked the same.
They wanted to take our bags and get us cabs and sell us watches and stuff.
We had to yell at them to get through.

We checked in to the best hotel that was owned by Swedes.  Our room was
going to be our studio so we booked the largest room with two double beds.
The two of us were wiped out from the trip.  We both stripped to our under
shorts and fell into bed.  I think we slept a good three hours.  It was
darkening outside.  "Okay Marc, practice your own wankin' let's get grub."

"No wankin' by the proprietors, only the customers," he said giggling.

After a Swedish/Russian style dinner we headed outside to a small park.
"Let's look over the territory," I said, taking a seat on a park
bench. Marc sat beside me.  We both noticed that some young guys passed us
a few times, they all scoped out Marc, not me.  I guess the daddy type was
not popular here.  "Hey Marc, I think I am chilling the works.  I'm going
to sit elsewhere and you can be the bait."

Sure enough a kid came over and sat on Marc's bench.  I could make out the
conversation slightly.  He spoke in Russian and then tried French.  Finally
he asked if Marc spoke English.  "Ah he said, You are a nice looking
fellow.  Do you do boys?"

I could hear Marc's familiar voice more clearly.  He told the kid that he
doesn't make it with boys but he photographs boy sex.  The kid looked bored
until he heard the price.  "I would do that."

"Good," Marc said and then pointing to me he said I was the producer and
director of our movies.  The kid nodded.

In a moment the three of us headed upstairs.  I called room serve and had a
bottle of Vodka and some snacks sent up.

This kid was to be our shake out cruise.

After he gorged himself on chips and cheese and drank straight from the
bottle he gave us a crooked smile, his head tilted to approximate slyness
and asked, "You really mean that money you described.  How about me as a
start?"

Of course that was our idea.  Marc sprang up, snapped on the floodlight and
opened his tripod and directed the shot to the bed on the left.  I assumed
the role of director and interviewer.  But first Spike, yes that was his
name.  We found that our subjects frequently adopted American names they
picked up from the cinema.  As I was saying I directed Spike to take off
his clothes and lie on the bed.  "That's hundred just to strip, right?" he
asked in his best horse trading manner.  He was assured and he leaped to
shuck his worn clothes, poor kid.  He was no beauty.  We hoped the
succeeding subjects would be better and we determined to instruct Spike to
recruit only the best looking and no one over twenty five.  I deemed spike
to be early twenties.  He was tall-for a dwarf-maybe five feet two.  His
legs and arms were short, and he had a slightly protruding stomach.
Otherwise, (ha ha) he was ready for his closeup Mr. DeMille.  He did have a
very cute face, small nose, curly lips and surprisingly pretty teeth.  Add
to that, luxuriant light brown hair, you could look at him without
shuddering.

As he undressed and the camera was recording I gave him a sort of interview
and learned that he lied a lot, claimed to earn five hundred dollars a day
hustling and that he only allowed his john to blow him.  "I never do that
to johns, and ass stuff is out.  He claimed to be a football player in
school and won many medals.  He said that his family is very rich and he
could stop hustling any time and join the family bank.

He showed us his rather large, but well shaped ass, then lay down on the
bed and caressed his stubby prick.  It was shaped like a blunt cigar and
had a translucent short foreskin.  During his exhibition he made lots of
noises and screwy facial expressions.  I guess that's what the trade
required.  He shook his cock, he stroked it, he poured oil on it and
finally called to Marc who was busy with his equipment (I mean camcorder).
"Maybe the good looking guy Marc over there might wish to slightly
stimulate my sexual organ so I might earn the final hundred dollars."

"Marc jumped in fear and turned stag-in-the-headlight eyes on me.  I
shrugged.  Finally Marc told shorty that it was a no go.  I laughed at his
discomfort.  Then I realized that Spike was staring at me and curling his
fingers and moving them in a familiar gesture.  "You, older guy, you're
pretty good looking too.  How about it.  Be nice, help."

What the hell.  I got on my knees next to the bed and hunched myself down
so only my hand was in the picture.  As soon as I touched the slimy thing
he began crying out in pleasure, but in a very phony way.  This was three
hundred wasted dollars.  I stroked him.  He did get very hard.  Good lord,
his heavy hanging balls began to hoist themselves up the mast.  He was
rolling around.  I had trouble keeping in position.  "Okay," he said,
"That's enough.  I am now on my way."  He began a vigorous pumping of his
cock.  I thought he'd dislodge it from his body, but no, he knew what he
was doing.  Finally he screamed and made us jump and declared he was
coming.  Marc moved forward to get the money shot.  The four inch pickle
pulsated and a small amount of semen settled in his inny.

"Not much cum," I told him.

"Well I had four dates already.  Next time you should get me in earlier."

I don't know if that was true but it did seemed like a good idea to do our
work in the morning when the dudes are primed with cum and then we can have
the rest of the day off.  We told Spike that we would give him a chance to
get guys from us and that we can usually fit in two or three in the
morning.

He wanted to know what his fee would be.  Marc decided for us.  "We'll give
you twenty bucks.  You can make your own deal with the kids, I'm sure
they'll give you a rake off as well."  Spike looked injured that we would
think that of him but he left whistling and promised to be at our door at
ten AM.

Marc and I were exhausted and hungry.  We went downstairs.  The dining room
was closed but a few Americakanski dollars opened it.  We had scrambled
eggs and blintzes with caviar dropped on top.  For desert we had a kind of
honey cake, I would call Danish.  Lots of strong tea finished up the meal.
Our waiter was amazed that we didn't ask for vodka and didn't leave the
table staggering as most foreigners did.  He asked us, after we tipped too
much, if we wanted girls sent to our room.  When we said no, he asked
"Boys?"  Who would think that Russia would turn out to be a heaven for boy
seekers.

Marc and I washed up and just made it to bed.  Incidentally, Marc is quite
a sight naked.  Long hanging and swaying cock, beautiful shaped body, and
the best ass in the Eastern European sector.  I loved the soft fuzzy hair
on it.

The next morning we awoke because there was a heavy knocking on our door.
I peeked out.  Oh my, three lovely boys were waiting.  "Just a few minutes
while we dress and then you can come in."

Marc ordered coffee as we washed and dressed.  Then we invited Spike and
his army to enter.  Three boys named Sy, Chuck and Bob trooped in, directed
by Spike with much handling of the merchandise.  We interviewed each boy.

Sy was gorgeous.  He told us he was eighteen, that he just arrived form his
farm to St.Petersberg just two weeks ago.  When asked if he like it, he
told us that he was hungry all the time and the old guys who paid him
regularly cheated him and wouldn't pay up after they masturbated him.  He
was about six feet tall, pure white fine grain skin, pink curly mouth, a
blond.  By now the recording was on.  I asked him "You are willing to do
this job for us".  He nodded vigorously and told us that he could live for
a month or more with the money.  "When can I start?" he asked, beginning to
pull off his shirt.

We told him to wait, that we wanted to meet the others but that he was
definitely hired.

The second boy was a big fellow, maybe two hundred fifty pounds, but not
fat.  His body was large boned and he was close to six foot five.  His pink
baby skin and innocent blue eyes belied his powerful and dangerous
physique.

Finally came Bob.  He was very girly but well built.  He was about five
six, quite hairy with dark hair.  His heavy eye lashes and wavy hair made
him a hunk inspite of his sissy way of talking.  Marc came up with the idea
of pairing Bob with the big guy in a double wank.  Bob agreed immediately
but Chuck wasn't sure.  "I do men for money.  I do not hang out with fags
like this Bob."  But finally he agreed.

So we got started with Sy.  What a cute kid, what skin quality what a long
cock.  He was so cute.  When he stroked he pushed out his lips like a kiss.
He lovingly titillated his tits, up and down and across and finally
pinching hard.  We had a VCR set up and he watched the bi sexual one with
amazement.  He kept his eyes widening in awe and said that the kids back
home wouldn't believe these tapes.  It only took him about four minutes to
spew like a garden hose.  The poor kid had that characteristic where he
would almost pass out when he came.  His spews were prodigious and left him
weak.  We had to help him to the couch to rest for awhile.

Chuck turned his back to Bob as they disrobed.  They sat on the bed and I
got them talking about themselves.  It seems that Chuck only hustled
occasionally, o when he needed money.  I later found out that he was
married and had two kids.  Go figure.  He hinted that he had women wanting
him.  His body was really beautiful in a heroic way, large slabs of pecs
and tight muscular stomach.  His upper legs were prodigious.  If he was a
woman, you would call him Junoesque.  His package however was
disappointing.  A nice pink worm lay over his round ball sack.  It would
turn out to be more appealing when erected, very curved.  Bob kept peeking
as they undressed and by the time they finished he had a nice strong
erection.  It was a big cock.  I'd say easily eight inches.  It looked out
of place on his slim body.  Chuck caught a look at it and let out a Russian
oath.  They settled on one bed.  Chuck was careful to allow a good space
between them He was skittish about this whole thing.

Bob began a dreamy slow stroke.  Chuck merely lay his hand on his cock, but
I'm sure he felt the bed moving as Bob stroked.  Then Bob really began to
get into it and emitted a long sigh and like most of the kids (me too) he
rested a hand down alongside his balls.  He separated his legs and soon one
hairy leg rested against Chuck's hairless, muscular leg.  At first he
jumped, then he pushed back slightly.  Now Bob was looking down at Chuck's
cock.  "Do it big guy, let me see you spunk off."  This seemed to start
Chuck off.  He took his hand and began to shake his cock like he was drying
it.  Soon it responded and got hard.  Bpb said in a whisper, "We get the
third hundred if we shoot.  You need help?"

Chuck signed, "I guess so, but don't mention this to anyone outside this
room or I kill you."

Bob reached out his small feminine hand and touched the big guy's now stiff
cock.  Chuck jumped, then settled down.  "Do it good, don't tickle it."

Bob turned sideways and began a steady stroke, Chuck was in heaven, his
eyes closed, his mouth working in passion.  Bob was leaking pre cum on
Chuck's hip.  I decided that Bob was going to shoot first.  "Marc," I
called, "Get close to the little guy, I think he's so excited by playing
with Hercules that he may cum."

Marc moved close, I was right, Bob began a slow fucking motion with his
hips and he shouted out, "I am cumming, oh shit."  This boy was some
cummer.  It took a long time to clean up the place after his heavy six
shots.  Chuck felt some of the hot stuff hit his chest and that set him
off.  He grabbed Bob's hand and forced him to speed up.  Finally Chuck
began what sounded like throwing up as he discharged a nice load from his
small cock.  You can never tell.

We got two more guys for the recordings, that made six except we might
eliminate Spike.  We had to eliminate one.  He got undressed to his under
shorts then wouldn't go further.  He cursed us and said we were sick
people.  He ran out.  Oh well.

Next stop Warsaw

End Part One