Date: Fri, 22 May 2020 18:37:38 +0200
From: Daniel Comnenus <daniel.comnenus@gmx.com>
Subject: My Elvish Boyfriend (part 10)

MY ELVISH BOYFRIEND (10)

By Dolphin Dan


As part of my extended stay in Varandikar, the elvish country, Ernie
(Ernemion), my boyfriend, brought me to Belenta, the capital. After our
glorious fucks the night before we spent much of the day sightseeing around
the city. It amazed me how antiquated Belenta was. I already described how
there were cars and trucks from the 1950s on the street (this was 1996) and
most everybody kept jerry cans lashed to their bumpers because gas stations
were so rare. Ernie showed me around several neighborhoods and a few of
them had very old row houses that looked as if they were out of the 19th
century. The cobblestone streets between these buildings were so narrow
that people hung clotheslines across them. At one point he took me to a
cluster of buildings that were now apparently abandoned. They were giant
block-like apartment towers, made of cheap concrete that was already
crumbling. Most of the windows were broken, the plazas beneath them had
shot up in weeds and they were blocked off from the street by chain link
fences. Ernie pointed to one of the buildings, with a big number 7 painted
on the side, in ghostly fading paint. "This was where we lived," he
said. "Communist apartments."

These were part of the housing projects built by Varandikar's Communist
government in the 1960s. Ernie explained the plumbing in the buildings was
so cheap and shoddy that when the government fell in 1989 and the new
government came in, they judged the cost of replacing the plumbing to be
higher than if they tore down the apartments and rebuilt them from
scratch. They never got around to that, so they just abandoned them. Ernie
didn't like to remember his life here. This place was connected to the
memory of Honey, the brother who died. Ernie had also told me he was
sexually abused at age 14 and this is where it must have happened.

On a higher note we went to Varandikar's national museum. This was done
very well and I learned a great deal about the history of the country and
the elvish people in general. There were dioramas showing elvish people as
anthropologists think they appeared in the Stone Age, another one that was
a recreation of a typical elvish home in the Middle Ages, and a modern
scene which involved mannequins of elves in an apartment from the 1970s,
watching TV in a retro (by 1990s standards) living room. There are several
races of elves, I learned, and not all come from Varandikar. The next
largest group lived on the northwest coast of Africa. They were called
chrysophytes in English, and their skin was usually dark red or
brown. Ernie said there was racism even among elves themselves; older
Varandi called these people "kiknashi" which is apparently the elvish
equivalent of the N-word. There was also a variety of elves who lived in
Southeast Asia and some Pacific islands. They had blue skin and were very
rare, having mostly been wiped out by diseases brought by Europeans. I
noticed the museum was entirely silent on the question of elvish magic.

In the afternoon we got on a tour bus which Ernie had bought premium
tickets on. It was a very nice and comfortable bus, not at all like the one
I took from Belenta to Vychan when I first arrived. Ernie took from the
knapsack he'd brought a little magnetic chess board, and we played chess
during the bus ride. He beat the shit out of me because he was so smart and
his mind was very ordered. I didn't ask where the bus was going. Part of me
knew already: Hoczno, the site of the Nazi death camp in Varandikar. Ernie
had mentioned it before and warned me that we would eventually go there.

It was not what I expected. Basically Hoczno was a clearing in the forest,
deep in the mountainous wilds. It was about half a mile off the main
highway. There were pine trees all around. In the middle of the grassy
clearing there was a memorial, made of stone but it seemed porous and
incomplete somehow. As we got closer to it I saw the memorial was a vaguely
squarish block comprised of hundreds of human-shaped figures, carved in
dark marble, all in poses of grotesque anguish as if being swept upward by
a great wind. The figures were indistinct, but all of them had pointed
ears. The sculpture was gigantic, perhaps 50 feet on a side, and 20 feet
tall. The base had letters etched into it: HOCZNO 1940-1944 and a number,
487,867. This was the exact number of elves who had been exterminated here
by the Nazis during World War II.

Ernemion stood before the memorial, his arms crossed over his chest. I had
never seen him look so stern or angry. I was literally afraid to say
anything in the fear that it would piss him off and he'd lash out at me. He
stared at the memorial and he gave a little speech. This is what he said as
near as I can remember it.

"The Germans came to this place in 1940. They chose it because it was far
away from everything, no one ever come here. There vas no camp, no
barracks, no gas chambers. It vas a parking lot. They parked big trucks
here filled with elves. Not all were Jews. The Nazis hated elves even if
they were not Jews. They vould attach big hoses to ze back of ze trucks so
ze exhaust came in. They would run the engines for 45 minutes until all
were dead. Right over there, in that gap between trees, they built a
crematorium to burn the bodies. Both of my grandmothers died here. One of
my grandfathers. All of their brothers and sisters. All of their
cousins. In 1939 in Varandikar there were 4,000 people with the name
Maundelow. Just before the war there was a Maundelow family reunion and
there were so many people zey had to sleep in tents on the outskirts of
town, that's how many showed up. In 1945 zere were fifty left. Fifty. Zis
is why Honey is such tragedy. He vas new generation. I am new
generation. Vhen ve lose someone of new generation, it is like losing 5,000
or 10,000. It is a loss of all our people. Do you understand?"

I was very wary of showing any public affection in Varandikar because I
wasn't sure how it would be taken. But on this occasion I reached up behind
him (Ernie was taller than me) and started massaging his shoulders. I said,
"I can't understand your loss, Ernie. If you need to cry, you go ahead and
do it. Maybe I don't understand, but you know I love you."

He did cry. He fell to his kness in front of the memorial, sobbing, tearing
at his long hair, shouting things in elvish. After a while he reached for
me and we held each other. Ernie was a highly emotional man. Soon he calmed
down, straightened up and smoothed back his hair. "Ze bus will be leaving
soon. We must be on it."

The bus ride back to Belenta was spent in stony silence. We returned to the
hotel where we'd been staying. Ernie's mood was very, very low. We had
dinner at the restaurant across the street, then came back to the hotel and
Ernie got into bed, facing away from me, and was totally still and
silent. He said nothing during dinner and nothing now. I turned out the
light. I put my arms around him. His body was stiff and tense. I started
massaging his shoulders, hoping to get him to relax. Finally I gave a
little speech. This is pretty much what I said.

"Ernie, I don't understand the loss that you and your people have
suffered. Maybe I can't understand, but that doesn't make me useless. These
things happened 50 years ago. The world is ours now.  I love you and I know
that you love me. Let's be together now. Don't shut me out. The day I met
you was a very happy day for me. Let's try to be together."

His reaction wasn't what I expected. He started crying. I asked what was
wrong. He said, "I hate myself." I asked him why. "Because I am gay. I
cannot have children. I should be carrying on the family, but I can't. I am
a waste."

I told him that this was nonsense. If he wanted to have kids so badly, he
could do it. There were tens of thousands of women in America who wanted
children and couldn't have them; there also had to be some here in
Varandikar. Gay is just a different kind of human, like elves were just a
different kind of human. If he wanted to beat the bastards who had done
this to his people, he could do that by finding a way to survive.

"You are so good, Danny. There is a reason why I love you."

It was a while before the mood lifted, but eventually it did. We started
kissing and I concentrated on being as tender and receptive to him as I
could. Eventually he allowed himself to enjoy life again which was what I
wanted. He grew hard. My dick was already at full staff. When I started
massaging his balls he groaned and laid back, hands clasped behind his
head. He said some words in elvish that sounded tender. His penis throbbed
against my hands. I wanted him.

It was like he could sense me, because in the next few seconds he laid on
his side, embraced me hard, and then started turning me over. There was a
little bottle of bath oil that the hotel had provided in the bathroom and
we used a bit of it last night so it was still on the bedside table. Ernie
put some on his palms, rubbed them together to warm it and started
massaging oil into the muscles and skin of my back and shoulders. He moved
down toward my butt and I sighed, even before he touched me there, in
anticipation. I spread my legs as far as possible. I wanted him to get the
message clearly that I wanted him inside me. He put oil on his fingers and
started massaging my butthole, gently stretching the skin. Sometimes in our
relationship Ernie had taken me powerfully and almost brutally. Other times
he was extremely sensitive and loving. This was one of those times. I
wanted to melt into him.

He was behind me and I heard the wet crackle of him rubbing oil on his
penis, then I felt it laying hot and heavy in my butt crack. Ernie kissed
the back of my shoulder and he said, "I will take you. But tonight I vant
you to pretend that I could get you pregnant. If you could have a baby, I
vould give you one tonight."

This was an odd fantasy but given the somber mood of the day I understood
where it came from. I whispered to him that I would do anything he
wanted. I wasn't under the influence of magic. We were our pure selves that
night.

This fuck was more powerful and more meaningful, I think, than any other
Ernie and I had. For one thing it was very slow. Sometimes Ernie was like a
pile-driver, pounding against me as fast as he could, but it wasn't like
that tonight. He moved slowly and methodically, pushing into my butt and
pulling almost all the way out with very even rhythmic strokes. He also
penetrated as deeply as he could. I felt his pubic hair brushing against my
ass each time he plunged in and his tip was so far up me it felt like it
was in the pit of my stomach. It hurt, but at the same time it was
exhilarating and wonderful. He maintained a lot of self-control, even
controlling his breathing, until the very end. Then he started to lose it,
his breath suddenly grew labored and ragged and the strokes grew faster and
more powerful. When he was about to cum he thrust himself as far into my
canal as possible, grasped my shoulders powerfully, and just held it there,
his whole body tense as a guy wire, for several seconds. Then his dickhead
burst open and he blasted jet after jet of his burning seed all inside of
me. He cried out sharply as the orgasm hit him. He started to come down but
it was a long time before he let go of my shoulders. He pulled out and fell
away to the side, panting and exhausted. His forehead, neck and upper chest
were covered in sweat. I felt hollowed-out like a gourd.

"Holy shit. I feel pregnant."

And then finally Ernie laughed. "You stupid bitch." He was not trying to be
insulting; he was giggling like crazy. He grabbed my head and pulled it
toward his chest. We wrestled a bit on the bed but it was not a serious
fight and ended with us in each other's arms, laying there, gently drifting
toward sleep.

I know that Ernie put a spell on me that night because I had a very
powerful wet dream, and I hadn't had one of those since I was 14 (with the
exceptions of the times Ernie had messed around with magical spells, which
had happened at least twice before on this trip). I dreamed I was in a
beautiful garden, naked, laying on my back on a bed of grass and soft
yellow flowers. Some invisible force came down and clamped itself around my
penis which grew rock-hard instantly. The thing that got ahold of me had no
form, no appearance, but it felt like the best blow job I'd ever had
combined with the sensation of fucking an exceptionally tight male
butthole. I was aware, strangely, of a bunch of snakes gently prowling
through the grass near me. They were colored maroon, with bright yellow
tongues pricking out of their mouths, and I didn't have the sense that they
were dangerous. There were four snakes and each of them slithered up and
coiled around me to hold down each of my limbs: two on my wrists and two on
my ankles. The snakes tightened so I couldn't move. Cum began to well up in
my balls. I gasped, my dick pulsed against the invisible force that was
stimulating me, and I came powerfully. As the excitement died down the
snakes released me and slithered back into the ground. There was no pain,
no sense of being in danger or discomfort; the snakes had just come along
and held me down so I could enjoy a more powerful orgasm. I became aware
that I was still asleep, a bizarre "lucid dream" that never happened to me
before or since. I slept heavily and woke up the next morning with Ernie
snoring naked next to me, turned away, his back a perfect curve.  While he
was still asleep I got up and went to the bathroom. Under normal
circumstances this would be the grody part--we've all been there,
guys--where I went to the toilet and his cum sputtered out of me, usually
with a loud wet farting noise. But it didn't happen that way this
time. There was nothing inside me, at least nothing that came out. I wiped
my ass just for the sake of completeness but I was clean as a whistle, like
my insides had magically absorbed his seed. I had absolutely no doubt that
if I had a woman's working parts I would be pregnant, and next May I would
give birth to a baby with pointed ears.

I was also intensely curious about the spell he'd used. He kept me asleep
by design, but obviously he had been stimulating my dick in the real
world. I had no idea whether he had sucked me, jacked me off or possibly
even climbed on top of me and got my dick into his own ass. It could have
been any of these, or any combination. Keeping me asleep as I came
amplified the orgasm. Honestly, aren't wet dreams the most intense cums you
could experience? The reason I could never have them as an adult was
because every time I got aroused enough in a dream to make ejaculation
possible, the intenseness of the physical feelings would wake me up,
meaning I couldn't cum in a dream but only in a conscious state. Ernie's
magic trick solved that little problem. I wanted to ask him about it, but
on the other hand the mystery was more fun than knowing for sure, so I said
nothing. I was grateful he'd done it.

We spent one more day in Belenta, and spent most of it hitting bars and
breweries, which meant we got insanely drunk. The following morning we
returned to Vychan on the train and I was terribly hung over. When we got
back to the farm at Proscot there was a tinge of melancholy in the air. I
did not have much time left in Varandikar. The summer would be over soon
and I'd have to return home. That was depressing to think about...but there
was still some time left.

More to come...



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