Muhammad

Thirty years ago it was a bright summer night, a white night, I could not fall asleep, tossing and turning in bed, although before that I had already searched our entire suburb on a bicycle looking for a guy or man walking alone. It seemed to me that I didn’t finish my search, that maybe somewhere on the streets someone was still wandering around, not settled, having missed his train. And at one in the morning I got out of bed again, took my bicycle and went to the railway station. In those days, the station did not close at night, people were sitting and lying on benches in the waiting room. So I went in there and lit a cigarette, looking at those sitting and lying in the hall. I spotted two guys there - one tall, just about two meters tall, handsome Caucasian, the other small, unsightly. They also couldn't sleep on the hard bench, the tall one went out to smoke. It was then that I talked to him and got to know him. It was easy in those days.

They turned out to be Dagestanis, Avars. They came either to get a job here, or to go to college. The tall, handsome Avar was called Muhammad. He was then 23 years old. I immediately invited both of them to my place, told them that they could stay with me, live there. And so the three of us headed for my house. It was two o'clock in the morning, the sun was already rising, and when we got to the house, the sun was beating down so strongly. Muhammad in soldier's uniform:

 

At home, under some far-fetched pretext, I separated the little friend of Muhammad, who was of no interest for me, isolated him in another room, and lay down on the sofa with Muhammad. All this was in the order of things in those days, and only later Muhammad told me that at first he did not suspect anything about me.

We lay down together, but on the first night we did not fuck, but only rubbed hard and pressed against each other. He had a hard-on. Nevertheless, after such a mutual frottage, he guessed something. He guessed that I liked him and that I wanted something from him.

He fucked me the next day. He fucked me in the ass. And in broad daylight. I don't remember how it happened. I only remember that I was very worried and at the end of the fuck I farted a little. "What! Are you farting here!" he said to me, laughing.

Muhammad stuck with me for two years. True, at times he went to his place in Dagestan, then again unexpectedly returned. Then everything was without warning - suddenly the doorbell rang - Muhammad arrived again.

I must say that Muhammad was not a fan of fucking in the ass. And in general he was not a lover of assholes. He was attracted to women. But it also cannot be said that he dreamed of them strongly. True, he once brought one to a room on the first floor. He fucked her, and I, hanging my head from the second floor, peeped. A disgusting spectacle! She lay like a mattress, and he screwed her. But, apparently, he needed it for the sake of prestige. Once I asked him, why the hell does your dick get hard when I touch it, if, as you say, you are only interested in women. He said: it doesn’t matter who touches, my dick always gets hard when someone touches it.

Muhammad during a walk in Leningrad:

In general, compared with modern Dagestanis, he was just Socrates. Modern people are short, dumb, not interested in anything, their speech is extremely poor. But Muhammad was interested in everything, he talked about something endlessly, chattered, asked something, played with words, liked to joke, made fun of us. Sometimes the bell at the front door downstairs rang, and we would go up to the window overlooking the porch to see who was calling. He would hang on one arm holding on to to the banister somewhere on the porch so that he was not visible, and then he would call again. Like trying to frighten us...Our house. Entry and doorbell:

We didn't sleep together like husband and wife. So, for a while we met in bed. But there were nights when we slept together until morning. And in the morning, having the morning wood, he fucked me in the ass, after which I happily walked to work with an ass full of sperm. Nice feeling! Morning, the birds are chirping, and I'm going to work, and the sperm strives to escape from the ass, it must be kept there ... I come to work, I talk to someone about serious matters, and I have sperm in the ass! “You are talking to me about some important matters, but you can’t even imagine such a thing that I was fucked in the ass all night,” I thought. Sometimes he crawled up to me in the middle of the night - “My dick gets terribly hard, I could make a hole in the couch right now.”

Yes, we lived together for two years, you can say ... And we fucked. I had to learn how to cook dinner, I had to feed meat to him. And in those days it was not an easy task! Somehow I managed. After fucking, he was hungry, sometimes at one in the morning it was necessary to pour out a bowl of soup with meat or fry a steak for him. I had to buy a new TV so that there would be some kind of entertainment at home.

And how he perked up when guests came to me! There were different kinds of guests, including foreign ones. He really liked this company. And I really liked that everyone likes him. One faggot managed to get him photographed in various poses in the nude. These photographs of thirty years ago remained. He also fucked this photographer, it seems. And the photographer licked his hairy ass. One of the photos taken by the photographer:

 

Muhammad had a sense of curiosity. He probably felt that the faggots valued him more than the straight ones. Because one day I was told that he was seen walking in the center of the city in the main cruising area. He heard from conversations where "such" people gathered. Apparently, he wanted to see if it would work. Although he did not cease to assure me that he did not need “all this” ...

It seemed to me that I squeezed everything possible out of the situation of living together with a straight man from the Caucasus. There could be nothing more. He needed to build his life, and not hang out with me and my company.

And he left. I saw him off at the station. We said goodbye. Just before departure, he sat down in the carriage by the window and began making playful winks at me. But when the train started, he suddenly rushed to the vestibule in order to say something to me again, but did not have time, because the passage to the vestibule was clogged with people and their luggage. So he didn't say anything.

But he said it later in letters. He went to his brother in Kyrgyzstan, where he worked at the state farm. It must have been very dreary for him there, and our life in my house seemed to be a bright and happy period. There are five letters of passionate confessions of friendship left. Terrible regrets that we can’t meet, that he can’t come to me in any way.

He only wrote that he was married in Kyrgyzstan. But without much joy about it ... Everything showed that he was eager to come back to me. Because:

"My best friend, of course, is you."

Passing through Dagestan

 

In the distant 1980, it seems, in the month of October, I decided to make a trip to the Transcaucasus, not my first trip to those parts. The first stop was Makhachkala, the capital of the Autonomous Republic of Dagestan. I managed to immediately rent a room at the “Dagestan Hotel”, although it was a double room and someone else stayed there too. I immediately found a local cruising area, it was on the sea promenade, there was also a toilet and benches nearby. Classic cruising area! I sat down on the bench. Immediately, a handsome, but small Azerbaijani, who seemed to have come from Baku, hurried up to me. He really wanted to fuck me, but I kept refusing. I suspected that he had a small dick (although I'm not a dick size addict, still size matters!). The fact that he has a small one was later revealed to me by one Latvian faggot, prowling the same boulevard. Tall, blonde, with a characteristic Latvian accent, an obvious "girl" and a lover of cocks, he did not leave me alone, stuck to me like a limpet. It has always been strange to me that “girls” are so stubbornly trying to pick me up. This one, from Riga, literally begged: “Well, let me at least suck!” I got angry and scolded her: “You are crazy, we are in Dagestan, where men are overflowing with the desire to fuck someone, but you have not found anyone better than me. Go look for Dagestani men!”

At the hotel, in the hall where the reception was, I met a Dagestani guy. He came to Makhachkala to visit or find out something about his brother, who was in a remand prison there. There were no places in the hotel, and I invited him to sleep in my room, on one bed. He immediately fell asleep, but in the morning his cock got hard. He had a desire to fuck me. He asked if he may. However, I refused him, because my ass was completely unprepared for this action. I still regret that it happened this way.

This is where my Makhachkala adventures ended. I was afraid to bring anyone to the hotel, I had all my things and money there, a large amount intended for the upcoming long journey.

I left by bus for Derbent. There also turned out to be a place in a hotel, and a young Azerbaijani was in the room with me. True, he left for the night, returned only in the morning and suddenly began to apologize to me for being absent (why apologize?). He said that he had fucked a Russian barmaid from a station restaurant.

Derbent. Railway station:

 

In the evening I decided to go out, trudged through this provincial town to the station (where else!). A strong wind was blowing from the Caspian Sea, pieces of paper and garbage were flying in the air, the streets were deserted. Only the outlines of the huge Derbent fortress stood out in this autumn darkness. I came to the railway station, where everything was lit up, there were people, some kind of movement, life. People gathered waiting for a train to Makhachkala. I just stood at the wall in the waiting room, looking at people. I glanced at a handsome young man, a Dagestani… Suddenly he came up to me and asked:

- Are you a queen?

I was taken aback by this question. But I quickly realized that he was not familiar with the subtleties of the Russian language, that he had heard this word somewhere, but did not know about its correct use. I had to answer something vague. It was clear to me that he simply had in mind sexual relations between men and my attitude towards them.

His name was Niko, a Dargin, he was waiting for a train to Makhachkala. We started talking, went out to the platform, smoked there. It turned out that he served in the army in the suburbs of Leningrad. Cunning faggots did the following trick there: there was a long line to the cinema (sometimes the tickets were sold out), they bought one more ticket for the show in advance and looked out at the end of the line for someone to sell this ticket to. Then, when they were seated in the auditorium, the faggot was next to this guy and in the dark did something with him, at least touched him. This is exactly what happened to Niko. He was touched in the cinema during the film, and then invited to the apartment, where there was a "gay party", a bunch of drinking faggots. “And then something unusual happened, Niko says. "My dick got hard, and of course I started doing it with them too."

But then he told me something remarkable. He began to invite me (somehow not very forcefully) to go back to Makhachkala. He promised to make me know people. They have everything there secretly and exclusively by word of mouth. There was something like a secret community of lovers of sex between men. But everything is very covert, no publicity. So Niko was in such a community. It seemed to me that he was not sure whether it was possible to bring new people there.

He left, and I remained on the dark platform, trudging into an empty hotel room.