Paratrooper

 

New times have come when they began to get acquainted through the Internet. For this, numerous dating sites have been created. A completely inconvenient way, because it turns out that you are buying a pig in a poke. The photo does not represent the person. Nonsense turns out, something like "meeting through lonely-hearts dating." I was interested in straight people and men from the Caucasus. Naturally, almost all of them went to these sites in order to receive material assistance, that is, money, as a rule is not very large sums.

I will say in advance that I have not had almost a single acquaintance on the Internet. A stupid situation arises when you need to arrange a preliminary meeting, i.e. meet a person somewhere on neutral territory in order to see and appreciate him. If I don’t like him, then I need to look for a polite form of refusal, and if I doesn’t like him and I don’t fit, then this is also somehow not very pleasant. This happened once - I went to a meeting with one person who "rejected" me. I returned home as if drenched in slop. Another time, a guy came to my house, whose photo on the site was someone else's. He said, "yes, that's what I look like." I had to pay him something and send him away.

But my biggest mistake was with a paratrooper. On the photo he looked very impressive - in uniform, in a blue beret. It was indicated that he was tall, about two meters, weighing about 100 kg ... He found me himself and began to write persistently, offer services. Well, I thought I won’t regret any money paid for such a paratrooper. This is what I have dreamed of all my life!

Here he calls already on the mobile. He needs it urgently. I ask how much it will cost. He names a very large amount. I express surprise. To which he replies: “Don’t you understand, I’m straight, I’m from the Air Forces!”. That is, "I'm worth a lot."

I agreed. I decided that once in my life I can spend money on this. He came. Really tall and big. However, when he undressed, I was shocked. It was a completely shapeless pile, a bag, without a single visible muscle, all white, without a single hair on the body. Sort of like a sumo wrestler.

He lay down on the sofa. His dick is a dangling rag, no hard-on. Well, then I quickly realized that this was my big mistake and that I needed to get out of it somehow urgently, I had to curtail this business. It seems that I touched "for the sake of decency" his dick with my lips, a lifeless thing. Nothing moved there. But that didn't matter anymore. I came up with something like I’m supposedly out of sorts now, that I can’t fuck, that “it’s better another time.” But that I will pay him, as agreed. In short, I paid him a decent amount of money and sent him on his way. You have to pay for mistakes. There is such an item of expenditure in life - "mistakes".

Later one of my friends scolded me - “have you not seen these paratroopers bathing in fountains on the day of the Air Forces? Haven't you seen those disgusting and un-sexy hulks? I have seen. Here they are.

But this cheeky type about a month later wrote to me again – “do you want to repeat it”. "Repeat what?" I asked him? After all, we didn’t fuck, we didn’t do anything!

By the way, after this stupid meeting with the paratrooper, I once again confirmed my opinion that it is better not to deal with Russians. Russians don’t have a proper hard-on or it’s very weak or it needs to be “lifted” with incredible efforts, after which it falls again. Let them better fuck women (there is evidence that they have problems with women  too - feeble erection).

But later some acquaintances through the Internet did happen. However, in a different way - through an intermediary. More on that later.

Soldiers in our house

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.