Date: Tue, 5 Jun 2007 17:31:58 EDT
From: CalAmi@aol.com
Subject: Becumming Friends

The year was 1997, just two years after the  genocidal, internecine war in
Bosnia had been brought to an end by  the Dayton Accords. That international
agreement called for elections to be  supervised by the Organization for Security
and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE).  This was how I got a short term job in
Bosnia, supervising a polling station in  Tuzla. You see,  I had just recently
retired from long years in law firm in San Francisco and was  approaching my
66th birthday. All of the supervisors met first in  Zagreb, the capital of
neighboring  Croatia, for a week of orientation  and training. We came not only from
the United  States but also the UK, France, Germany, Italy and even
Lithuania.  We were all put up in a deluxe Sheraton  in the center of the city but each
supervisor had to share his or her room with  another supervisor. The OSCE
would not pay for single occupancy. I looked into  the possibility of upgrading
with a supplement but there seemed to be no  bureaucratic way of handling such
a request. But I'm getting ahead of my  story.
This is all mainly background for what turned out  to be a marvelous
adventure in more ways than one. As I boarded the  OSCE-chartered bus that was to take
us from Zagreb International Airport to the hotel, I saw it was already
crowded but that there were, in fact, a few vacant seats on the aisle near the
back of the bus.  I wondered which  one I should take and definitely knew that I
did not want to take one next to a  rather overweight middle-aged woman. Much
to my relief, a guy, who must have  been in his early forties, raised his arm
and invited me to sit next to  him.  I'd guess he was about 6'  tall, had
salt and pepper hair, and looked terribly fit for no longer being a  young man.
It turned out that he was a deputy city planner in Minneapolis who had
decided to take this temporary job with OSCE during his three-week vacation.  Taking
part in OSCE's democratization program might be helpful in building up  his
own resume.
As we rode along on our way to the hotel, I guess  we continued to exchange
personal information. At some point I told him my name  was Robert; his was
Brian, and we shook hands and switched the conservation more  to what we expected
from the election supervising jobs that we had signed up  for.
As we approached the hotel, the OSCE staffer told  us that we could choose
our roommates or just take a chance with arbitrary  assignments. Some of the
others on the bus were already old friends and would,  therefore, want to be
assigned to the same rooms. I was delighted when Brian  said, "Shall we share? I
don't know anyone else on the bus, and it doesn't look  like you do either."
When we got to the OSCE sign-in table at the hotel, the  staffer assigned us a
room without comment one way or another. The orientation  was to take place in
the same hotel and last for four days.
It was early in the afternoon by the time we got  some lunch and went up to
our room. After more than 15 hours of flying time and  airport changes -- each
with a security check-- I was more than ready to lie down  for an extended nap.
I stripped to my underwear and got in under the covers of  one of the two
twin beds. Brian did the same, and I could not help but notice  the huge bulge in
his jockey shorts and the ripped abs under his T-shirt. I was  dying to see
him without anything on and just hoped that might happen later on  during he
week, sometime when he would probably be showering and  dressing.
I don't think either of us slept more than a  couple of hours. When I woke
up, Brian was sitting -- still in his underwear -- at  the little desk writing on
a postcard. He had found several in the hotel's  WELCOME folder and told me
he always liked to let his roommate know that that he  had arrived safely. That
was the first mention of a roommate, and I hesitated to  ask whether the
roommate was a gal or a guy.
Well, it was still too early to go downstairs to  the cocktail lounge or out
to dinner. It was raining hard outside, so there was  no point in attempting
to do any real sightseeing. So, we just continued to  chat. I probably talked
too much about my legal practice and San Francisco political  issues. Brian
explained that he had not always been a municipal employee. Before  that, he had
been a Marine officer. He had even been detailed to the White House  while
serving at the Pentagon. That helped explain his outstanding physique. He  had
reached the grade of Major before deciding to retire, he told me. For some
reason, obvious now, that just did not make sense.
We were good enough acquaintances by now that I  did not think twice before
asking something along the lines of, "Why would you  give up a promising
military career -- especially in the Marines -- to become a  city planner?"  Brian
could not have  been more blunt. "Because I am gay," he said, "and I could not
continue to lead  a double life." He explained that he had great hopes when
President Clinton had  first espoused a policy of allowing gays to serve in the
military."
I cannot tell you how much I wanted to jump up and  embrace this handsome,
well-built man, hold him close and hope he'd do the same.  Instead I just told
him that I was gay too. I mentioned that I am totally in the  closet and that
he was the first person -- still is -- who knew my real identity  and that I was
gay. "Well, that proves my gaydar is still working," he joked.  "Something
told me as soon as I saw you get on the bus."   "Does that mean he wants sex
with  me, " I asked myself silently. "He certainly find me attractive enough
to want  me to sit next to him and engage in conversation and share a room."
I was still too shy to take any sexual initiative,  and maybe he was too, but
we continued to merely discuss gay issues -- national  and personal -- until
it was time to go for dinner. Brian mentioned that he had  agreed with two
others to go out to dinner together. He said that he had known  them from a
previous OSCE deployment and that they both were gay although one  was a guy and the
other a gal and they were sharing a room. "Strange," I  thought, but "that'
s no problem for me." Subconsciously I guess I thought it was  okay because no
one from home would recognize me in Zagreb.
Dinner was pretty uneventful with more fairly  intellectual conversation
about various gay issues. As we were finishing up, the  other guy -- Stan -- talked
Brian and me into going to Zagreb's most famous gay  disco, The Bad Boy,
after dinner.  His gay lady roommate said she was too tired from the long journey
went  back to the hotel. He knew where it was and how we could take the tram
to get  there.
I had never been to a gay disco before. Most of  the clientele were guys but
there were a few women at the bar.  We three guys got a table in one of the
several small back rooms, ordered our drinks, and I began to look around at
other tables of guys who were holding hands and what I used to call, "necking."
 A truly new experience for me.  Brian and Stan both got up to dance under
the strobe lights of the DJ  room while I kept our table. Stan returned well
within a half hour while Brian,  who it turns out likes nothing better than to
dance, well almost, continued to  dance with various partners.
Before I hardly knew it, I felt Stan's right hand  on my left thigh. "Do you
mind?" he asked. I didn't and reached over to kiss him  on the cheek. From
there my tongue penetrated his slightly open mouth. We must  have French kissed
and rubbed each others cocks through our pants for the better  part of two
hours. No one else had any part out of his pants, so we were  actually pretty
discreet in our actions.  I really don't think Brian ever did return to finish
his drink; he  enjoyed dancing so much. As much as I enjoyed necking with Stan,
I was still  hoping to save myself for what I hoped would be love making with
 Brian.
It was well after the last tram by the time we  were ready to go. One of the
bartenders called a cab, and the three of us men  were on our way back to the
Sheraton. Brian and I left Stan off the lift at the  third floor while we
continued on to the twelfth. My throat was getting so dry,  I couldn't get any
words out to suggest that I hoped we'd share a bed once we  got to our room.
As soon as Brian finished brushing his teeth and  was out of the bathroom it
was my turn. "I think I'll take a shower before  turning in," I said, which
was really just an excuse to get totally naked in the  bedroom before entering
the bathroom. I noticed Brian look my way a couple of  times, and I hoped that
was a good sign. After a thorough showering with special  attention to my
anus -- just in case Brian liked to rim -- I came out with my  towel around my
waste. Only to find Brian under the covers of his bed, with his  back turned
toward mine, and apparently already asleep. It had certainly been a  long day
after a long trip and an evening of gyrating, so it was not wonder that  he had
konked out so quickly. Still I was disappointed. If ever any sex was to  take
place with Brian, it would have to be some time later.
I slept so soundly, I don't remember dreaming or  having to get up even once
to urinate, highly unusual for a man in his sixties.  It seemed only minutes,
not hours, later that I awoke to the sun streaming in  our hotel window.
Through bleary eyes, I saw what I could not begin to believe.  There was Brian
lying on top of the covers, 100 percent naked, with a  magnificent boner of what
must have been at least a 9" cock standing straight in  the air. "Oh, it must
be a pee boner," I thought to myself. That was until I saw  the Brian was
actually looking my way. "Like what you see?" he said with a broad  grin across
his slightly whiskered face. Did I ever, and I was pretty sure he  wouldn't be
saying that if he didn't want me to do something with what I had in  sight.
"Can I?" I asked, to which Brian replied something  like, "I thought you'd
never ask. I've been laying here for at least a half hour  hoping you'd wake
up." Why had we lost so much time yesterday, I couldn't help  but thinking to
myself.  Now we'd  have to be hurried if we were to make our first training
session at 8:30. Still,  a quickie is better than nothing at all, and I was
pretty sure that we'd not be  limited to just one time while in training in
Zagreb.
We had not yet gotten to the typical question at  first time gay encounters: "
What do you like to do?"  I thought, therefore, that I'd better  limit
myself at the beginning to giving him a gentle jacking. I, therefore,  moved over
to his bed, still naked myself since that is how I always sleep,  With my butt
at his waste level, I  reached over with my right hand and gently began to
stroke his rigid cock that  grew even longer and thicker -- if that's possible;
it may have just been my  imagination. -- with every movement of my fingers.
"Do you have anything that would work as a  lubricant," I asked Brian. His
cock skin was getting red from the friction with  my fingers. "No, I don't he
said, but you do." I knew immediately that he was  referring to my saliva.
With that I leaned down and surrounded his lovely head  piece of meat with my
lips and slipped my tongue into the little hole." I  thought the guys in the
neighboring room would hear his moans. (Maybe they did  because we both got big
grins when we went down to breakfast and found our room  neighbors already in
the dining room.) "Oh, My God, Robert, that is so  wonderful, oh, oh, oh, oh."
Just as  he was about to ejaculate, he immediately pulled his cock from my
mouth and  jerked me around so that we were face to face. Brian began to kiss me
fervently  in between words like, "You are the greatest cock sucker I've
ever known; yes,  you really are, don't deny it; you have so much experience."
And then we'd both  laugh.
"I don't care if we ever have breakfast," Brian  whispered in my ear. "Let
me have your cock and see if I can please you half as  much as you've pleased
me." As much as I love sex, I was not going to miss out  on real breakfast. "
Let's compromise," I suggested. "How about sixty-nine-ing?  We can both get
off and still have time to go down for breakfast."
I still could hardly believe the rapture that had  overcome both of us.
Although I describe myself as "fit" in exchanges of email  hoping to hook up from
the Internet, my body is nowhere as hard and ripped as  Brian's. It was
ecstasy for me to move slowly from his lips down his chest with  little bites at his
nipples and then on down to his belly button. That man could  be a model for
GQ. I have even forgotten to mention how much I enjoyed running  my fingers
through his thick, slightly curly, dark brown hair with graying  temples. We had
to hurry, alas.
Well, it didn't take long between his belly button  and the revival of his
cock head. By the time my mouth got there, Brian already  had my cock into his
mouth and was going all the way to my pubic field and back.  He was no slacker
at cock sucking either because he used his tongue almost as  adeptly as I do.
Before I knew it and thanks to all the preliminary "work" I had  done on him,
Brian ejaculated within less than a minute. "Damn!" I thought, even  though
I loved the taste of his semen, "he'll want to stop before I cum" But he  didn
't. He kept up the pace as fast or faster than he had before,  We hadn't
talked about swallowing in the  lead-up and I wasn't as sure he'd want to
swallow my semen as much as had  gorging myself on his."  "I'm  cumming," I told
him, and I could hear him mutter, "Sure, go ahead."  With that I could feel my
semen working  its way up from its origins and out into his mouth and throat.
Neither of us  spit out the other's jism.
The two of us were exhausted from our ecstasy, but  we are responsible kinds
of guys and we had to get to training after a quickly  devoured "real"
breakfast. It was now no problem for us to shower together. We  lathered each other
vigorously, rinsed, and before we knew it were dressed and  ready to be on our
way. To hell with the shaving; the others would just have to  guess maybe
why. One thing I know is that Brian is a real friend and not just a  quick lay.
We love exchanging ideas as much as each other's semen.


To be continued, maybe.