At about mid-1970s, I finally became convinced that there was absolutely no point in looking for someone at gay meeting places. There were no types that I needed. And I needed simple guys and men of normal sexual orientation, straights, without the deficit of masculine qualities that was apparent in all gays, even if they were a hundred times “active”. And then there was Babette who began to make intensive acquaintances with men "not like that", and successfully.
In today’s Russia one needs to be aware of the fact that in those days no one was talking about “gays”, that the words “faggot” or “fag” were just swear words without sexual connotation, and that most men were in the dark about this “sin”, but believed it not to be a sin, but some kind of mischief, an accidental whim or just nonsense. It should also be mentioned that in those days it was possible to easily enter into conversations with strangers, ask for a cigarette on the street, ask for a light, invite to your place, under some pretext to approach a stranger on the street and say: “Listen, I really want a drink, but I don’t want to do it alone, let’s think of something.” And this aroused no suspicion that there was something else behind it.
Besides, I got a room with a separate entrance, which I arranged for my own purposes ("fuck room"). There was nothing of value there. And most importantly, there was only one bed, and in those days it was normal to go to bed even with strangers. In addition, there should always be a supply of booze at home, an extra bottle in store. Plus, there were always some bad-quality pornographic photos lying around, always of women.
All these "non-gays" were divided into those from the Caucasus and Russians. In terms of sex with Caucasians, of course, it was easier, and Caucasians were my main goal. With the Russians, I had to drink too much, and sometimes so much that I didn’t remember whether we had fucked or not. Often there was only a vague impression that we did something.
However, it was still not without theft. They stole everything that I accidentally left by oversight.
For several years, the constant place of my search was waiting rooms and ticket offices for long-distance trains at railway stations (there were also smoking rooms then). And it was possible to start chatting with some men who did not leave - those who got stuck, did not have enough money for a ticket, etc. This method started working. The main rule was to talk only about women, i.e. do not make any hints of possible sex with me.
The first person I met and brought to my place was an Azerbaijani. We slept together, he fucked me. But somehow, having no bag with him, he managed to steal jeans, which were then of great value. That was my "premiere".
If with men from the Caucasus in all cases fucking was guaranteed, then with Russians it happened in about 2/3 of the cases. At the same time, I myself never made advances, did not touch the man first. We just lay down in the same bed.
Mornings were another problem. Especially disgusting seemed the bright sunlight that beat into the eyes. Therefore, the windows should be curtained so that in the semi-darkness the guy could get up and, overcoming embarrassment, quickly and, as it were, imperceptibly put on his underpants.
I remember a handsome Chechen, a wrestler, whom I brought to my place from the railway station. I lied to him that I allegedly have a woman, "whom we can go to." Then, that "the woman was not at home." In general, we lay down in one bed, and he fucked me (at any gay meeting place I could never find such a man!). In the morning he said to me:
- Well, it's great you got me picked up! Well, you're great!
Armenian Spartak, whom I hooked up with at the railway station - he was stuck - he lived with me, probably for a week. He was a cheerful person. And a broad nature. He fucked me, then I brought him a woman I knew, he fucked her, then he fucked me again.
Spartak also sat in our company, entertained us with chats. Of course, he understood what kind of company it was, but did not attach any importance to this, because it was not named or designated in any way. Here, please, the complete absence of a demarcation line between "homo" and "hetero"!
There was also a soldier Anvar, an Avar (ethnic group) from Dagestan - because of the curled hair on his head, I called him “Mouton”. I picked him up right outside my house. Then he probably came to me for a year, and at the most unexpected time, when he managed to sneak out of the barracks.
He fucked me mercilessly, for a long time, many times a night, to the point of insanity. He told me: “Don't offer me food or drink here. I just need to fuck, fuck. That's the only reason I'm coming to you." Once this "Mouton" appeared when my house was full of guests, including foreigners, natural women. At first he was stunned, but then he got used to it, he sat together with everyone, and at night we fucked again.
Not everything went so smoothly, and some evil types came across. Some of them were with a face like thunder in the morning, and it was necessary to urgently apply some "psychotherapeutic techniques", distract them and quickly take them out of the house. Once there was a stunning Georgian with a mustache, he was from a small Georgian town. Spectacular, with a good figure, but with a small dick. He himself was tossing and turning at night, and he himself started to fuck me, but in the morning he was furious (as if I had raped him with my ass). The ones with small dicks were the most likely to cause problems.
And later I thought why do I travel so far to the railway stations, this is a long road, If I can get to know someone right here in my town. For example, to go to the grocery store in the evening, to the wine department before it closes, when a crowd of guys and men stood around it, unable to buy a bottle. It was possible to go to the railway station platform when the last train to the City had just left, to approach someone who had not left, to come up with something like “I was going to go to a woman in the city, and now I have to return home.” And I invited the guy to come to my place for a drink ...
In addition, our Suburb was full of military units, soldiers roamed the streets. So pick them up right near the house, on your street! So I did. But more on that later.
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