Every word of this is true. This is the third installment.
We woke up together about 12pm and stared into each others' eyes. I still couldn't believe that this was actually happening, that I was waking up in the arms of a guy so amazing as he. We talked a bit about our lives. He told me about his past relationships. He said his first was when he was 14. He didn't remember how it happened, but one thing came to another and he was having sex. He told me it was with a guy he met from school.
"In the same grade as you?", I asked sleepily. He replied "No, he was 39, he was my informatics teacher". I know that at that time, the age of consent in Russia was 14, but where I come from, it doesn't matter what the age is. That shit is illegal, and it should be, too. At 14 I don't believe you can form rational decisions about sex and love, hell, I hardly even know if I can make rational decisions at the age of 21. And when you're a teacher, you hold a unique bond of power over your students. This power relationship affects the whole thing. Anton didn't seem too bothered about it, but I couldn't help wondering how he handled relationships now, if that had been his first experience. I felt like tracking the teacher down and hitting him.
He told me about his parents and how he missed his friends up north. How he'd spent his first Christmas here away from his family. How cold it was in his city in winter. We're talking -50C cold.
We talked about his life since he came to Moscow, and how it was so difficult to find friends here until he met Alexey. I half-mentioned that Alexey was going after me, which got his interest. He asked me to show him the SMSes he'd sent, and then showed me his own phone, which had exactly the same messages from a couple of months ago, only in Russian. We burst out laughing. That Alexey guy really is a machine.
His housemate Kofa came in and asked if we wanted to go for a walk. Honestly I didn't care what we were doing as long as I was somewhere near this guy. We got our stuff together and went to a sushi restaurant in the city. I don't care how much you like sushi, never visit a Russian sushi restaurant. The prices are sky high, more than you'd pay back home, and the service and food is shit. I noticed that Anton seemed a bit cool at the restaurant, but I just put it down to us being in public. We did a bit of shopping for gloves and he and Kofa said they had to leave. I still didn't have his number. Hell, I didn't even know his last name. I blurted out, "but you gotta give me your number! If you want to meet again, that is." Almost as an afterthought, he turned around and keyed in his mobile number to my phone, and his house number too. And with that they were gone, and I got on a bus back home, unable to stop thinking about Anton. I was worried that he didn't seem sad to leave, and that he hadn't offered his number as we parted. I had to put things in perspective. I'd only known the guy for 24 hours. I couldn't expect to have him on a leash. Still, love does funny things to your mind.
I aimed not to send him an SMS for a couple of days, not to seem too keen. But that resolution didn't last long and I sent him one anyway, just saying it was nice to meet him. But it came up as undelivered and I tried calling the number. The message said, in heavily Russian accented English, "Call barring is announced. To not able at this time. Beeline."
Decoding these awfully translated announcements is an art in itself, but I knew what this one meant. He'd given me the wrong number. I refused to let myself get torn up about it. I'd seen his eyes, I'd understood the connection we shared, unlike that I've had with any other guy in my life. I knew he hadn't done it deliberately. But still I wondered. I had to come up with a plan to meet him again. And I needed an excuse. I realized what I had to do a€" buy him a mobile phone charger. So I dragged my friend along to the mall with me, and visited about 20 cellphone shops until I found the right one. It was only 140R a€" about $4. Then, that afternoon after my Russian lesson, I called his house. It rang but there was no answer.
I went and grabbed something to eat. I called again. Somebody answered. It was Anton! Man was I happy to hear his voice. I told him I had a surprise for him, and did he want to meet so I could give it to him. He sounded happy to hear from me, and said, sure, we'll meet at the metro at 9pm. Normally I'm late to everything but I was there ten minutes early, impatiently pacing up and down the street, watching darkly-dressed Russians trudge through the snow, passing in and out of the metro in little groups, like ants in a hive.
My phone rang and it was him, waving from across the road, standing underneath a gigantic vodka billboard. The billboard was for a vodka called "Russian Size", which is OK vodka, and has time measurements on the bottle for how fast you're meant to drink it, and what you'll be toasting as you drink more and more. You start toasting family and friends, then women, then Mother Nature, then pickles... you get the point.
He gave me a huge smile and gestured at me to cross. I dodged traffic and playfully bumped him into a big patch of snow. He laughed and I tell you, that smile could light up the world. We walked the 10 minutes to his house that cold Wednesday night, happy to be together, talking about friends and university and guys and life. The moment we got inside, he pulled me onto his couch and kissed me, long and deep. He said he didn't know why I hadn't SMSed. That his housemate Misha told him I'd never call. That he was worried we wouldn't meet again. With that my doubts evaporated and I hugged him close. He switched on the TV to channel STS, which has a nightly Russian soap opera with his favourite song, "Esli V Cerdtse Zhivyot Lyubov" a€" If In Your Heart Lives Love. He said he hated the soap but watched it just for this song. This sounds pretty dumb as I write this, but right then he could've been preaching the gospel, everything he said sounded so good.
I gave him the charger and he looked over the moon. He did little jumps on the floor and all I could see was his incredible face, his electric eyes, his perfect body. I'd never fallen this bad for somebody before. I knew I wouldn't be able to give him up easily.
We chatted with his nurse housemate Kofa, who was just back from work. The subject turned to AIDS and how common it is in Russia, and she said Anton had been tested 3 months ago after getting in a fight at university, in which some blood got on his hand. She showed me the certificate, which was interesting, and reassuring. She chatted a bit about how 10% of Russian guys drafted to the army are rejected because they've got AIDS. All us foreign students are negative - the government makes you get tested if you want to live here for more than 3 months. She seemed to really like me, and said she was happy that I was back.
Anton didn't really participate in the conversation. He spent most of his time staring at me, and every time I met his eyes, he'd wrinkle them up in the cutest way. We drank tea and beer and talked long into the night. He told me that he had trouble finding guys who he liked as much as they liked him. He said he wanted to find a balance. I have experience with this and I agreed. But it's possible, I said, to find a balance. "I'm an optimist. I know it's possible" (thinking: I damn well hope we find a fricking balance).
We finally went to bed at about 4am, but didn't have sex, because his housemate was in the bed with us. While he slept he jerked a lot more, and made little whimpering sounds. I wished I could fix whatever monster was in his dream. Either that or he was dreaming about sex with me. Which would be OK. When we woke up, though, it was a different matter. I was having this dream that a thousand hands were reaching out and touching my cock. I kept batting them away but they wouldn't stop. I awoke with a start to find Anton kissing my forehead, busily playing with my cock, which was rock hard. He was slowly rubbing the foreskin up and down with one hand, and rolling my balls around with the other. Nicest wake up call I ever got. Sure beats an alarm clock. I reached out and returned the favour, amazed at how big it was, yet again. I didn't measure it but it had to be 9". It seemed almost indecent to have that size cock on a nearly-19 year old, even though I'm only 2 years older.
I was still a bit sleepy but all sleep was shaken out of me as Anton got to work on my cock. He gripped it with two hands and sucked the head hard, up and down, while his hands skillfully matched the motion in reverse. It felt incredible. I was hoping he hadn't learnt it from his informatics teacher. He kept this up for a couple minutes, going slow, going fast, until I started breathing pretty quick. Just as quickly he took his middle finger, licked it and slipped it up my ass, feeling for that spot at the back that only gay guys are lucky enough to know about. He pressed at it gently as he sucked harder and harder. I switched around and took his enormous cock in my mouth. I can deep throat most guys but not this one. He seemed to like my technique, though, especially when I did the same thing with my finger. We lay there 69ing each other, tasting our precum, feeling our bodies close, all tongues and hardness and slick wetness and incredible pleasure. We sucked and probed until we could wait no longer, and he shouted as he emptied his hot load into my mouth, me doing the same about a second later. There was so cum much we couldn't swallow it all, and some trickled onto the mattress.
We stayed like that, cocks softening in each others' mouths, for a long time, exhausted, trying to catch our breath. Eventually we straightened out and I saw I had to get back to university or I'd be seriously late for my lesson. He had a lesson at the same time, and as we were getting ready to leave, he said his English class was going to a film on Friday, and that I might like to come with him. I said I'd love to, and we caught the metro, pressing against each other in the crowd, sharing a secret they would never know, until we got to my stop. I slowly walked along the platform, ignoring the beauty of the incredible Moscow metro station around me. I was looking for his eyes. I caught sight of them flickering towards me and then away... but passengers crowded around him and the train pulled away.
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