USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE LEASH" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.

THE LEASH By Andrej Koymasky © 2012
Finished writing February 17, 2003
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by Kent D. (sw Ohio area)
CHAPTER 2
Travels and transfers

After I got the scientific degree at the high school, I would have liked to study biology, as it fascinated me. But my father did not want to hear about it absolutely and, as I said, I was to be enrolled at Bocconi University in Milan. He took me to Milan with him, he showed me the studio apartment he had rented, not far from the university, and informed me that I was enrolled... I learned about it this way...

The only thing I liked was that, with that solution, I was finally free and independent. As for the studies... I resigned myself. According to my character I decided that since this was the way my father had imposed on me, I had to seriously commit to the studies in order to remain as little as possible at Bocconi. I decided that "I had to make it please me "... in exchange for my freedom.

After all was it not as bad as I feared. I settled in pretty quickly. My companions were not as "bad" as I had feared. Three times a week I went to the gym for swimming and volleyball just to keep myself in shape.

The studio was pretty shabby, but there were all the essentials. There was above all a comfortable queen-size bed, pretty hard, as I like. My father made a monthly payment in the bank with which I had to pay all my expenses - from university to food, to books, to clothing, to entertainment. It was enough; I just had to be careful not to incur unnecessary expenses...

Moreover, seriously studying, left me with not much free time besides the gym, so I went out dancing in a gay disc just a couple of times a month. About once a month I came home more than anything else to see my brothers. In fact, my father often was not home and my mother... was almost as if she were not home either. The four of us have always been very united and loyal, especially Giovanni and me.

In Milan, after a few adventures with no consequences, I met, in 1978, Gino, i.e. Luigi. He was a boy two years younger than me, which is the same age as my brother Giovanni. He was not really handsome, but had a beautiful smile and was very likeable.

The first time we met was on the roof of the Duomo, in the forest of stone spires. I had rested for a few minutes, and then I stood up to go down again. Before going down the stairs that would take me back to the cathedral, I heard someone calling: I saw a boy of about eighteen, who was handing me something.

"You have forgotten this..." he said with a smile, handing me a tour guide.

"No... It is not mine..." I told him.

"Oh, that was where you were sitting, right behind you, so I thought..." he said with a smile almost apologetically.

"No, it is not mine. Thanks, anyway."

"I thought you were a stranger, and did not know what language to tell you..." he said, "But you're Italian, right?"

"Yes..." I replied, feeling slightly attracted by his smile.

"Thank goodness. I chew a bit of English, but just a little. You are not of Milan, you..."

"No, of Parma, but now I live in Milan."

"Up here you do not find hardly a Milanese, ninety-nine out of a hundred are from outside."

"And you, then?" I asked curiously.

"I am from Milan one hundred percent..." He replied with an accent decidedly from Milan, that he did not have before, then returned to his Italian with almost no accent, and told me: "But I come up here quite often... sometimes I can do interesting encounters. I am a... habitué of this place."

"Hunting for foreign girls...?" I asked, looking at him with interest.

He was wearing wide faded jeans, cut just below the knee, a red T-shirt with the logo of the Ferrari and a short black vest. Blond-brown rebel hair was coming out in clumps from a cap worn backwards, also bright red with the Ferrari logo. He wore big eyeglasses, the rimless kind. And wore a cheeky and pleasant smile.

"No... I'm not a womanizer. I just like talking to people, especially people coming from outside. And if they speak English, maybe I can improve a little what I learned in school."

"You still go to school?"

"No, I just stopped. I graduated from a vocational school. Now I work here and there... waiting to find something stable."

"What do you do? By now should you not be working?" I asked curiously, as we went down together.

"A crappy job, for the moment. But at least I can support myself. I make the rounds as a watchman in a garage. And you?"

"I study. At the Bocconi!"

"Wey! You're a fine head, then!" he said looking at me with an expression of admiration.

"No... My father has enough money for me to study there." I replied.

"From the way you say it, you do not really like it very much..."

"Not a lot."

"But you do not have at all the face of a spoiled child."

"Thank goodness..." I replied, smiling. Then I asked: "How about if we get something in a cafe?"

"Yeah, right. Well, my name is Luigi, but everyone calls me Gino." he said.

"Daniel." I replied.

"My pleasure and all that crap... But no, I'm glad to meet you. You look right, yes, you do."

"Thank you. You live with your parents?"

"Yes, unfortunately, even if after all they let me do quite what the fuck I want. And you?"

"I have a studio. Rather ugly..."

"But at least you're on your own, right? I, if I earned a little more... I'd like to be alone."

"To bring home maybe some girl?" I asked him, without double thoughts.

"But no... no... A friend instead. Have you got a girlfriend?"

"No..." I replied, studying him, and began to be interested in that boy.

"You did not find one yet?" he insisted, looking into my eyes, as he sat drinking a coffee at the coffee table of a bar.

"No intention of having a girl." I replied.

He nodded, then asked: "And... a boy, then?"

I looked at him frankly amazed.

He saw my expression and asked, "Why, I had to ask! You know, now it's not like it used to, sometimes it happens... There's nothing wrong."

"And you?" then I asked, cautiously.

"I prefer a boy. Honestly. Someone like you, for example..." He told me frankly, looking to see how I reacted.

"You took me off guard. But yes... well... I never had a girlfriend, I am not interested in girls."

"I hoped it. So? I have some hope? I may not be an Adonis nor a Marcantonio, a handsome and strong man either... But I like you. That tour guide was just an excuse to buttonhole you... "

I smiled. "Look, Gino... sincerity for sincerity, I would gladly do a ride with you... But so far, apart from when I was in Parma, I had only short adventures, never anything serious."

"You can't start with someone you've just met and decide to have something serious with him, right? One tries and then... who knows... maybe knowing each other... Unless you really do not want anything serious. Toccata and Fugue... it is so? "

"No. As you say, getting to know each other... who knows."

"Is that a yes then?" Gino asked me with a mischievous smile.

That day we did nothing, because Gino was to take service in his garage. But we met the very next day. I took him up to my place. He looked around.

"Yes, here it is unattractive, like you said... but at least the bed is wide. But maybe if you do some changes, put on some posters..." Then he approached the bed and tested it with one hand. He turned to me and asked: "What you like to do in bed?"

"A bit of everything..."

"Me too, but especially taking it into my ass. You like to fuck, I hope..."

"Yes, I like it." I replied, somewhat disturbed by the crudity of his language: I was not used to such vocabulary.

He came close and began to undress me. Soon I also began to undress him. He gave me the idea that he was the type who wants to get straight down to business... I couldn't be more wrong - when, naked, we went on the bed, Gino started with long and pleasant foreplay. That guy was not very beautiful, but he was nice and certainly he knew what to do.

And finally, after helping me with his lips to put on a condom, he offered himself to me with a grin full of desire: "Come on... put it all inside me..." He told me, inviting.

I went on top of him and penetrated him without any difficulty, getting into his hot channel very smoothly. All the way down in a single thrust. I began to pound in and Gino accompanied my every thrust with skilful movements, giving me a great pleasure and clearly enjoying my riding. I felt that in him there was a curious mixture of boldness and gentleness that I liked.

"Fuck... yes... so..." He encouraged me rubbing my nipples and tossing under me happily.

I did not need encouragement - the way in which he participated was more than enough to make me abandon any residual hesitation and I took him with sheer pleasure. When he felt I was too close to orgasm, or he was too close, he made me stop. We caressed, kissed deeply, passionately, and then he invited me to resume my sexual gymnastics with a smile and a low "Go on!"

When he finally began to moan and to tell me not to stop, I flung myself in one last ride, till we both came at just at short moment from each other. Breathless, satisfied, we relaxed for a while, still gently caressing and talking...

"Yes, I was not wrong, I was hoping you were the right one for me." he said at one point. Then he asked me: "Also you liked it, right?"

"Yes, very much."

"Good. You, have you had many boys?"

"No, only one steady story and a few short affairs to be counted on the fingertips of my hands. And you?" I asked.

"Enough... but you, tell me about your boyfriend, go on..."

I told him about Claudio. Then Gino told me about himself. I always liked to hear the love stories of the guys I meet...

He said that the first time for him was when he was fourteen. He told me that at least for one year he had understood that he preferred males, and he wanted to try it. Once he tried to reach out in the public toilets to touch the member of a boy who was close to him in the urinals, but he got a punch and a stream of insults, so he ran away.

It was a Sunday, Gino left home, and wandered around his neighborhood for a while, then went to sit on the bench of a bus stop and was smoking a cigarette.

After a while a Fiat Panda car stopped in front of him and a boy of about eighteen or twenty years opened the window, and told him: "On Sundays, the buses do not pass here. Where are you going?"

He did not have to go anywhere, but the way the boy looked at him, especially between the legs, made imagine him, or perhaps rather hope, for something... So he got up, walked to the window and looked inside.

"Nowhere... I just wanted to take a ride..." He said watching in his turn between the driver's legs.

" I too was going for a ride, just to pass the time. If you like, you can come with me."

"Okay..." Gino told him.

The other opened the door and told him: "Jump up, then, come on."

Gino sat beside the driver and closed the door. Settling on the seat, he spread his legs so that the bulge in his pants could be easily seen... and the other laid a hand there, then leaned over him and kissed him in the mouth...

"Not here, we can be seen..." Gino said, feeling immediately excited.

"You do not have a place, right?" the other asked gearing and beginning to move away slowly.

"No, you do not, too?" Gino asked him caressing him on the fly of his trousers.

"I have the keys of the shop where I work... it is in San Donato..."

"But if someone sees us go in?" asked Gino torn between being excited and worried.

"No, I have the key to the rear, there's nobody there and we'll be safe..."

"And if the boss comes?" Gino insisted.

"He always goes away with his family on weekends. We'll be safe there." the boy repeated changing the gear and taking the western ring road.

It was a store of bathroom accessories. The boy took a few mats and laid them on the floor. Then he drove Gino on them, going there with him, and began to undress him. Gino let him strip him, then undressed himself and went on him taking him into his arms and French kissed him. Then, without further preliminaries, put on a condom, lubricated Gino's little hole with a cream and went on top of him, pushing his penis into his hole without much ceremony.

"Hey, go gently, I never took it there..." Gino told him a little worried.

But the other one pushed steadily, while holding him until he began to penetrate into him.

"Slow down, Christ!" Gino's repeated feeling dilated and feeling a bit of pain.

But the other seemed to have lost all control, if he ever had it, and pushed in vigorously till he sank into his rear, emitting a kind of cry of victory while Gino uttered one of pain.

Heedless, the other began to fuck Gino forcefully, totally excited. And Gino, despite the pain, began to like it.

The two met again, and that boy made Gino meet with some of his gay friends, so Gino quickly made a round of boys with whom to have sex.

Then Gino thought it might be interesting to hook boys he liked with the excuse of the tour guide up there on the roof of the Cathedral... and we met. While the others were all tourists, and with them he had little more than an adventure, he began to meet with me quite often and gradually we became friends. Therefore, in addition to sex, sometimes we also went around together.

Thanks to Gino, who began to bring posters, ornaments, plants and more, my studio began to take on a younger, nicer, less anonymous aspect. But even with him the relationship was not of love but rather a pleasant friendship. Besides, we knew very well that, even if somewhat infrequently, both he and I had only a few short affairs...

I often was taken by my studies because I wanted to take all the exams in the right schedule and I would always try to get good grades, so it happened that we could not spend much time together.

Then came the day of my graduation. Thanks to my good grades, I was soon hired by one of the largest banks that, because of my very good knowledge of languages, began to send me abroad, so also my relationship with Gino ended.

My first transfer abroad was in the United States, in San Francisco, where I worked from 1983 to 1988. Besides having an excellent pay, the bank had hired for me a nice apartment in a small house Eastlake style, in the city center, with the facade painted in lilac and white. They rented for me the entire second floor with a nice decor, modern furniture and all the comforts.

I was very close to Castro, thus in my spare time, I began to attend pubs and premises of the "gay capital" of the U.S. Soon I began to have a good circle of friends, both gay and not. My colleagues and bosses at work knew about me, but there wasn't the slightest discrimination against me.

The years I worked in San Francisco were more than anything else a time of adventure, with only one relationship that lasted for fourteen months. It was with a fiery Mexican boy, named Eduardo, who worked as an illustrator of children's books for several publishing houses - he had a style that I liked, and I still have several of his original drawings.

We met during a Mardi Gras, in 1986 - I was 28 years old and he 24. He had approached me in a rather original way.

I was watching the parade with some friends, and he was on a chariot, dressed as an Aztec warrior. I was just looking to pass that car, when he greeted me. I replied to his greeting and he jumped off the wagon, came before me, took me in his arms and kissed me on the mouth, between the laughter, applause and whistles of my friends and of the people around us. A kiss to take my breath away!

Then he slipped in the pocket of my shirt a note, and said, "Call me! I want to meet you again!"

"What's your name?" I yelled as he chased his chariot.

"Eduardo! And you?"

"Daniel!" I yelled back while his companions were helping him to hoist himself back on his bandwagon.

My friends laughed and made fun of me, then one of them told me that my face was dirty because of the makeup that Eduardo had on his face. I wiped it with a tissue.

The next day, at night, I decided to call him.

"Hello?" said his voice.

"I do not know if you remember me... I'm Daniel... yesterday you came down from the wagon and you kissed me."

He laughed: "Of course I remember. I have not kissed anyone else, what do you think? I just kissed you!" he said with a cheerful voice.

"And why just me?"

"Because you're my type. And I did not want to let you get lost... I thought you wouldn't call... But instead... Obviously you liked how I kissed you!"

"Yes, even if you've really caught me by surprise."

"You're not a gringo. Where are you from?"

"I'm Italian."

"You are not by chance a tourist, are you?"

"No, I work here in San Francisco."

"Great! When will we meet?"

"Bah... Friday night?"

" You can not meet sooner?"

"Yes... well tomorrow night, if you want."

"And tonight?" he insisted.

"Yes... although... I do not want to be late. Tomorrow morning I have to be punctual at work."

"Do you know where the Different Light Bookstore is in Castro?"

"Yes, of course."

"In an hour we meet there, can you?"

"Okay, I'll be there."

So I met Eduardo, and our story began. He was a very nice and very hot guy. Sometimes he stopped at my place for the night or the weekend. Like me, he too liked the long preliminaries, then to stay still embraced to relax and chat after making love.

He was an activist in the gay community in San Francisco and knew somewhat everyone, so, through Eduardo, I made many new acquaintances. He was also very good in the kitchen, so he prepared not only good dishes when he was with me, but we began to invite friends for lunch or dinner at my house.

He had a room in a friend's apartment, and perhaps this is why he liked to spend his time at my place, which was wide and all to ourselves. When we were alone, he often walked around naked: he had a beautiful body, I admired him... but not just watching him, of course.

But as I said, after fourteen months we were together, our relationship ended. In fact, he got a great job in New York, where he moved. I could not follow him, my bank had no vacancies in the city of the apple, and so we had to separate. We had said we'd stayed in touch, but in fact, aside from the e-mails that were exchanged at the beginning, not he or I could fly from coast to coast just to get a little together, so contacts gradually slowed down until they ceased entirely.

This was perhaps due to the fact that although we were fond of each other, it was not real love that bound us.

For the rest of the time I worked in San Francisco, besides some new short adventures, I no longer had a real story.

In 1989, my bank decided to send me to work at the Paris branch, so I moved again. All in all I was quite happy to go to France: I already spoke English well and the idea of perfecting my French was very good. Over the years I spent in Paris nothing special happened.

The only relationship somewhat more durable in Paris was with a Moroccan boy named Salah. He was rather handsome, somewhat shy and very sweet. He worked in a supermarket where I used to go quite often. But that's not where we actually met, although I had noticed him, and he told me later, he had noticed me.

I met Salah at the home of mutual friends, also gay, for the birthday party of one of them. I recognized the Moroccan boy, I said hello, and we started talking. He had an intelligent look, was smiling, and open-minded. And, unlike other Arabs who I had known, not only did he openly admit being gay, but he said, in bed he preferred the so-called "passive" role.

He was nineteen years old, was in Paris with his father and two brothers, who knew he was gay and that is why it seems that they didn't respect him so much, even though they left him in peace. He told me that they considered him somewhat like the "black sheep" of the family, halfway between a sick and a vicious person... It was enough that he did not bring home his gay friends, that he never talked about it, and then they left him in peace.

He told me also that the person who made him understand that he is gay was his second brother, who was his elder by six years and who when Salah was a boy of thirteen years and had recently moved to Paris, had begun to take advantage of his graces, almost every night.

But while doing so with his brother Salah was for him just an outlet, which had ceased when he had found a woman. Salah had realized that he just was not interested in women that he liked to make love only with males.

Also the period in Paris ended, because in 1993 I was again moved to the U.S., but this time in New York and as vice-director. When I got there, I managed to find Eduardo, but I didn't go back with him, because he had started a relationship with a lawyer, Michael Ashbury. But we met often and so I met his lover and also a couple of colleagues of his man, lawyers and gay like him. Together they were responsible for gay international adoptions, and their study was named Young, Ashbury & Goslinky... They made me see that, reading the initials of their surnames in reverse came out "GAY"... I found that, after all, it was a curious coincidence and quite appropriate.

In those days I didn't care too much about the fact that I had the chance to meet those three lawyers, but some years later, to be acquainted with them proved very useful for me, I would even say providential, as I will tell you later.

Then came 1999 and my bank offered me a further move: I was offered the post of Director in a branch of Buenos Aires. As well as French and English of course I know well plus Italian and Spanish. My languages were a real plus. Another plus in Argentina was that since the Italians and children of the Italian constitute about half of the population. Moreover I had acquired a good competence in the international arena, so I was the most suitable, according to my bank, to fill that role.

Here too, the bank provided me with a nice apartment in the center of the city - from the windows of my house with the Plaza Colón and monument to Christopher Columbus could be seen. Buenos Aires is a very moist city, and has extreme changes in temperature. Being in the other hemisphere, January is the hottest month and July the coldest month... therefore it took me a while to adapt to that climate.

The Italian community was very large and omnipresent. But, when I'm abroad, I don't like to mingle with the local Italian community, I rather try to make friends and to attend the "indigenous" community and, in Buenos Aires, I tried as much as possible to meet the bonaerènses or portéños (the residents of capital are so named).

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3


In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is

http://andrejkoymasky.com

If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help translating my stories into German, so that I can put on-line more of my stories in German please e-mail at

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