I already wrote that I stopped bothering myself with long trips in search of sexual partners. I just went out somewhere in our suburbs and accosted guys under various pretexts. Once I went to sunbathe on the lake, which is near to our house, settled down near some Caucasian guy, and we immediately got to know each other, started talking. He turned out to be an Azerbaijani who served here in the army. His name was Mammad. He was strong, short, swarthy.
Needless to say, we very soon ended up at my house, and then he fucked me in the ass. After that, he began to come to me, and each time his visit ended in bed. It seemed that there were plenty of screaming Russian girls around, they literally pestered Caucasian soldiers, what more did he need? And still, he fucked me. And not reluctantly or for practical reasons, but with feeling. I remember that before going to bed, he said something like a toast at the table: “Let's drink to this night that it goes well for us!” Well, you must! I will never forget this.
After a while he asked me to allow him to move into an empty room on the ground floor of our old wooden house. I agreed. In the automobile military unit where he served, there was a friendly Armenian-Azerbaijani community. In the end, under the leadership of Mammad, this room was cleaned, put in order, and 5-6 Armenians and Azerbaijanis settled in it. So, approaching the house, one could almost always see the light in the window, join the soldiers, sit in their company. Their room was immaculately clean and there was a smell that so many faggots go crazy about - the smell of men, leather belts, soldier's uniforms and boots.
Soviet soldiers, some from the Caucasus:
Mammad came to me from time to time, stayed overnight with me. By then he had already fucked some faggots who happened to be visiting me. In general, they were simply stunned by the sight of Caucasian soldiers...
A couple of times he also brought women to my room on the second floor. Once he brought one girl, a chubby broad. He fucked her, and we put a chair to the door and peeped through the gap from above how it was happening (not interesting and disgusting).
Other residents of the Armenian-Azerbaijani room knew that Mammad and I were fucking. I wonder how they told each other about it? But there were no problems, full respect for me and for all of us. I remember that an older brother came to one Armenian, we all got drunk, danced wildly, and this brother went to bed with me. He fucked me in the ass, although I did not press my ass into him. At the same time, there were some other guests in the house ... At some point it turned out like this - I counted that about twenty people spent the night in our house. I wonder where the KGB and the police were looking?
All this was about thirty years ago. The house is no more, people have grown old, scattered around the world. Only a couple of army stools remained with the inventory numbers of that automobile military unit and a thick woolen soldier's blanket, brought by them from the barracks.
