Bulgaria as a foreign country

 

I went to Bulgaria twice – first time in 1974, as a tourist, for two weeks, and then in 1976 at the invitation of Stefan, whom I met on the previous trip in the city of Pleven and who fucked me well in the city park on the last evening before the departure of our group.

Of course, in Bulgaria it was much more interesting than in Russia or Czechoslovakia. Bulgarians, as a southern people, are bisexual. One faggot, who went to Bulgaria on my advice, described it as follows: “the whole country is a cruising area. You strike up a conversation with someone  on the street in a small town by asking for a light, and the conversation ends with us going to fuck”.

So, in 1976 I came to Stefan (see him real photo) in the city of Pleven, and spent almost three months in Bulgaria. Stefan was two years older than me, he was an active fucker. At first I was in love with him, but soon I realized that it weighed him down. He preferred diversity, finding as many different partners as possible. In a word, he wanted to fuck different people. In the end, I came to terms with it. He fucked me from time to time, and together we travelled around Bulgaria (his friend had a car), we stayed in different places by the sea and also looked for sexual adventures together.

While still in Pleven, I remember one case. On a day off, Stefan and I went out into the street and suddenly our eyes locked with those of two or three (I don’t remember exactly) soldiers. The soldiers were swarthy, almost Turkish in appearance. We took them to a cafe and fed them, and then we went to a forest-like park near the city. We lay down on the grass and began to fuck. I was fucked, it seems, by two soldiers. They were good - simple, with all the soldiers' smells of uniforms and boots, not glamorous, as they are now - with shaved pubes and armpits and decorative tattoos (I can't stand it!). They were modest and quiet, they did not ask for anything in return, but just wanted to fuck with someone. Fucking with us was in the nature of things for them, they were not “gays”, and no one knew such a word yet ... I liked this lack of boundaries between sexual orientations.

It was a mystery to me what the active Stefan was doing with the soldier. After all, he couldn't fuck him. I asked him. He angrily replied that “it doesn’t matter” and  “don’t impose your ideas on sexual roles on us here, everything is different with us.” Apparently, due to the predominance of the active role among the Bulgarians, they, having got together engage in some kind of  mutual friction and masturbation. I don't remember about the mouth, oral sex, about sucking. I don't even remember talking about it. I didn't do it there, and no one forced me to do it.

Bulgaria was flooded with foreign tourists, including those from "capitalist countries". The majority were Germans. It was because of them that extensive male prostitution arose in the country. It was especially visible in Varna, where we came to stay. Male prostitution was practiced almost exclusively by gypsies.

City beach in Varna. Just our place:

In Varna, all gay meeting places on the beach and in the city center, as well as in the baths, were literally swarming with gypsies. Bulgarian gypsies, unlike ours, are more swarthy, closer to the Indian type. A characteristic feature of the gypsies: big dicks.

Bulgarian gypsies:

On the city beach of Varna, where there was a zone for gays, there was a place for naked sunbathing, surrounded by a high fence, and at the end of the day, when the beach was closed  by PAS announcement, a number of gypsy guys lined up on the gallery, supposedly changing clothes or drying themselves in the sun, with large dangling dicks. They stood and shook them. These were those who for the whole day could not find a foreign sugar daddy and who, before closing, hoped to get their last chance.

We, our company, did not lie on the beach in this enclosed place for nudists, we only passed through it. What was there? A monstrous sight, an insult for the faggots! I was even ashamed in front of the straight Bulgarians, who also passed there and turned away in disgust. All this vast enclosed space for naked sunbathing was filled with the ugly bodies of fat elderly German faggots who did not lie, but held themselves in a strange position of lifting their ass and parting their buttocks so that their anus with a bunch of red hair could be seen. Their butts were exposed to the sun, as if for sunbathing in the region of the intergluteal crack and anus.

In general, the Germans annoyed me with their constant stripping naked. This is what they call “naked body culture” (Freikörperkultur, FKK), and they are completely unaware that the body can be unaesthetic or even ugly and that it should not be put on public display.

Once Stefan and I went to the city common showers in Varna. Naturally, it was full of gypsies with gleaming eyes. Somehow they immediately identified me. They approached Stefan and asked: “is your friend gay? We want to fuck him. We need no money. Let him come with us to our place.” They stared, smiled, winked. Of course, I refused this offer to go to in the company of gypsies to the outskirts of the city.

But I still fucked with one gypsy. True, it was an educated gypsy - his name was Stoyan, a student, or already an engineer. Somehow it happened that we ended up with him in a small room, very small, where there was one bed and a number of chairs. Three more Czech faggots were with us, of course they were super-passive "girls", some other people were there too. We drank. It seemed it was was time one should start to fuck. And I don't remember how it happened that Stoyan and I decided to arrange a show fucking session. How I did this, I still don't understand. The Czechs and others were sitting, as it were, in the first row of the "auditorium", while Stoyan and I climbed onto the bed. I got up doggystyle on the bed, and he fucked me with his big gypsy cock for probably half an hour. All the time, pulling out his dick and pushing it back ... And no awkwardness, no unfortunate incident happened. Everything turned out great and made an indelible impression on the audience.

Moreover, the impression was so indelible that stories about how “one Russian gave a great fuck” were retold for a long time among the faggots in Prague, in the Czech Republic. Two years later, some other Czechs arrived in the Soviet Union (someone gave them my address), and suddenly they began to tell me about that incident in Bulgaria, about “that Russian”. Fantastic!

Well, this Stoyan, was perhaps my most vivid impression of Bulgaria. We kept in touch with him for a while...

I returned home through Romania. I was in Bucharest for two days. Romania was not the same as bisexual Bulgaria. It is more northern, more European. You can’t say about Romania that the whole country is a cruising area.

Cops, security officers and faggots

It would be strange if I did not catch the attention of the Soviet authorities. In the USSR, there was a criminal article for the sexual intercourse of a man with a man in the ass, and, therefore, all my fucking was illegal. However, I cannot say that there was any targeted persecution of homosexuals. A couple of times I heard from some faggots that "there was a raid", that "someone was taken away." But I myself have never seen anything like it, gays walked freely around all the places of gathering. I will never forget a warm summer evening in Moscow - I was there changing trains and popped down into the city center. Everywhere, starting from the Bolshoi Theater, the “Prospekt Marx” metro station and further along almost the entire main Gorky Street, they walked or stood in defiant and pretentious poses, persons of homosexual orientation. Later in life, even in the big cities of the West, I never saw such a concentration of gays as I did that evening in Moscow.

Later, during Perestroika, I read somewhere that in the USSR, under Article 121, concerning fucking between men, one thousand people were imprisoned annually. I don’t know if this is a lot or not, and what were the circumstances under which these people were locked up in the nick. The fact is that in order to prove sexual intercourse between men, it was necessary to find sperm in the ass and take it for analysis. That is, in fact, it was necessary to catch the "criminals" in flagrante and also prove that you didn’t stuff your own sperm up your ass yourself.

Once I was invited to the police (“there is an important matter, we need you to help us”) and they questioned me for a long time:

- Are you a homosexual? Your buddies wrote about you that you are, - said a shitty operative. 

- So what? I answered. - I am a homosexual, but I never practiced it, and with my friends I did not ever have sexual intercourse, they slander me. All my life I dream of stealing from someone because I need money, but I don’t do it, because it’s against the law.

And then I got up and left the department. I was not detained or arrested, I had been simply invited for a chat.

However, not everyone behaved this way. The police put pressure and intimidated gays, and faggots (and they are weak creatures) immediately told everything - with whom, when and under what circumstances they did it. And, nevertheless, even such a "self-confessed" faggot was not imprisoned, because there was no evidence. And they did this: they offered him to become an informer. “You will meet someone (sometimes it was indicated whom), have sexual intercourse with him and then you immediately call us (from a telephone booth, or what?), We will immediately come and take this person” (a real person told me about such a suggestion).

Despite this, I got the impression that they persecuted homosexuals in an extremely sloppy way. Because, if desired, all of them could be caught without much difficulty like chickens in a chicken coop. Apparently, homosexuals were not a particular problem for the Soviet authorities. What do they care about faggots who were minding their own business, if people here read and distribute forbidden literature, tell anti-Soviet jokes or throw ink bubbles at a huge portrait of some leader of the Communist party and government, exhibited on the revolution anniversary holiday of November 7th (there was such a case in Leningrad, after which policemen guarded the portraits).

All these law-enforcement people were cynical and immoral, they didn't give a damn who fucked whom and in what way. They had to work, expand the network of informers, report on the work done, and so on.

But in the USSR there was another organization, standing higher, at the instructions of which the police often worked. This is the KGB. The KGB men were brought up on blood, and ideally they would like to kill everyone. If not kill, then cause maximum harm. If not the maximum, then at least some. This is their matrix. But they worked sloppily, as all in the USSR. They messed up everything, they could not distinguish namesakes and my relatives from each other, they got confused with checking our mail, they found my classmates and asked them something about me, and then these classmates and I got together and laughed out loud at these detectives. And their work consisted of fabricating some dirty tricks, creating a network of informers (“where who said what”) and lying. Lying was their main thing, what they were taught.

I remember this: when I was about to go to socialist East Germany (GDR), then one KGB officer, hinting at my sexual orientation, began to tell me the following: “You should keep in mind that it is in our country that law-enforcement agents turn a blind eye at your behavior (they are allegedly "humanists"). The situation is completely different in the GDR, where the police work well, and there ... ”Furthermore, it seems that in the GDR I would be immediately arrested and put in jail (in fact, there was no law against homosexuality in the GDR). By the way, they didn't let me go to the GDR.

At first, in my youth, when one KGB officer approached me, I did not know how to react and what to do about it. Foolishly, I thought that they could also be useful somehow - at least for obtaining permission to travel abroad. But very soon I realized that they, by blackmailing and deceiving, just want to make an informer out of me. “And what do people in the cafeteria talk about at your work, do they oppose the general line of the party?” To all their stupid questions, I answered that people only talk about art. So it was a reply all of us gave - "we talked about art."

The KGB officers also wanted me to get acquainted with homosexual foreigners in order to get supposedly “compromising evidence” on these foreigners. Of course, I didn't do any of that.

I wrote that they are cynical and immoral, but there was once the following case: I came to lectures at my university, and some KGB officer, a man of about fifty years old, was waiting for me at the door, and it is clear that he is very nervous (the KGB officer is nervous when he meets me!). He was so worried that he could not start talking . Finally he began to explain:

- You know, there is one German, such a handsome German (blushes at the same time), there is such a tall handsome German, blond, came for an internship, lives in a hotel ... (voice trembles, blushes even more), he, this German, he ... such ... he is also ... well, in general, a handsome guy, you need to get to know him ...

And at these words, the “knight of the sword and dagger” (as they called themselves) became really crimson with shame! A KGB officer blushed to the roots of his hair! I even felt a bit of sympathy for him. Poor man, he probably didn't have any experience with faggots and fag topics.

By the way, I met this German. It was enough to come to the gay meeting place, and he was already visible there. This German spent all his time at the meeting places of gays and other hot places, and finally was expelled from the USSR for excessive debauchery.

I soon realized that this was a total rubbish. I stopped seeing these "knights", didn't answer the office phone when they called, and so on. About three months of such refusals and inaccessibility of mine were enough for me to be blacklisted and ... they sent their instructions to the police.

Now the police were after me. Also carelessly, stupidly, sloppy, if one took a detached view of the matter. One time they would get into the corridor of our house, pull out Polish magazines officially received by subscription, take them away supposedly as pornography (there were a lot of erotic photos in them), or they would burst into the house after 11 p.m. and the guests who happen to be at my place will be dragged to the police station. Indeed, in the USSR there was a law that citizens who were not registered at a specific address could not stay there from 11 p.m. to 8 a.m. This law was never applied, no one even heard about it, but they began to apply it to me. On other occasions they would come at 7 in the morning, in the winter darkness, they searched the house with flashlights, climbed into the attic. They leave with the words: “Oh, there’s no one here! There really is no one here!” (Well, aren't they stupid?).

Nevertheless, all this was very unnerving, creating an unbearable atmosphere of constant persecution. I could no longer invite anyone home, and approaching my house I studied the traces of cars and footsteps in the snow. The feeling of being at home is gone. I gave a start at every knock on the door.

I left the USSR for permanent residence.

Were there people of unusual sexual orientation among law-enforcement officers and the KGB? They were. Hidden, encrypted, but they were. From the KGB, if it became obvious, they were expelled. And once in the City, in the very center (it was around 1977), I met an Armenian, a man of about 35. “Where are we going?”, the question immediately arose. He says: “To the KGB. I work for the KGB. I am on a business trip now, I am from Yerevan.” Probably, in the conditions of Yerevan, he would not dare to behave like this. And I went with him - straight to the KGB residence, to their building. There was a hotel (or something like a hostel) for KGB officers on a business trip. At the entrance, he said to the watchman - "this one is with me." And we went to his room. Everything there was clean, the chairs were upholstered in white covers, flowers were placed everywhere ... We drank Armenian cognac and lay down in bed. He fucked me well. And in the morning he took me out of the hotel, and we said goodbye. By the way, he left me his phone number, correct, not false. And three years later, when I was in Yerevan, I called him because I needed help. It was necessary to get a plane ticket (then it was a big problem). And he helped me.

Damn it, if there were more OF such KGB men!

Gay guy meets a Soviet pop star

 

I already wrote that many faggots had female idols. Some preferred ballerinas, others operetta female singers, but most often women from the pop world. Edita Piekha enjoyed special love with her non-standard voice and demeanor, a light foreign accent. In 1960 and in the early 70s, Piekha really stood out against the background of the monotonous Soviet pop squeakers.

Almost every cruising area in the USSR had a gay regular with the nickname "Edita Piekha", sometimes just "Edita". There were also those who managed to really get acquainted with the ideal of their dream transformation into a woman. Pop singers, including Piekha, knew that they had a big gay following, and did not neglect them at all. It was even somehow accepted that this or that pop star regularly met in real life with a gay guy, listened to compliments from him and received a bouquet of flowers.

Around 1975, something like this happened. One quite decent and fashionably dressed guy, a passionate admirer of Edita Piekha and having known her for some time, apparently decided to arrange another meeting with her. He reserved a table for two at a restaurant in the center of Moscow, ordered many dishes and various alcoholic drinks ... At the appointed hour, Edita Piekha appeared in person. She didn't even sit down, she just stood by the table for about seven minutes, sipped a glass of champagne, exchanged a few words and hurried away.

But what happiness! The gay guy met Piekha in flesh and blood, and now he could tell everyone about it! Excited, he started drinking what was on the table! More... more... more... This guy got drunk, and when the waiter came up, he immediately began to pester him. The waiter, without hesitation, escorted a completely drunk gay man to a secluded place in the basement of the restaurant where the waiter allowed the guy to suck him off. Then he called other waiters. They also fucked this gay in the mouth. And then ... and then all sorts of workers and porters came running, and everyone took turns fucking the guy in the mouth and in the ass ... Everyone who was in the basement at that time took part, even all scum. In the end, the faggot was lying unconscious on the floor with his pants pulled down, his ass bare.

After this incident, the whole restaurant staff told and retold in detail for another three days how they "fucked the fag in the mouth and in the ass." One porter boasted how he filled the whole mouth of the fag with sperm ...

This is how transition from the sublime to the dirty and low happened. However, I do not think that the drunk faggot was dissatisfied with anything later or had regrets about what happened. Most likely, he did want to be fucked by many men at once. This happened. Moreover, neither money nor documents were stolen from him.

I do not condemn this faggot and do not want to laugh at him. It just so often happens in life that the sublime merges with ridiculous. Because they exist side by side.