Return to Russia. Heady nineties

 

So, in the mid-90s, I packed my things and went home. No one in France really noticed my disappearance. I also said goodbye to this country easily and did not miss anyone.

But Russia was already different. You couldn't go back to your past.

During Perestroika and later, television and newspapers intensively “enlightened” people, launched the knowledge about homosexuality to the broad masses, to the mob, to the common people, and they launched it and continue to launch obsessively, intensely and aggressively. Now almost everyone knew everything about faggots almost from kindergarten - “orally”, “anally”, “active”, “passive” and so on. Once I was walking behind two boys about ten years old and overheard their conversation. In conversation, they figured out the difference between pedophiles and pederasts.

Everyone knows everything, including those who need not know it. Once in France, one of my friends said: "There is no mystery here." Well, now in Russia there is no mystery too.

I remember in the 90s I turned on the TV and heard this: “Now we will take a tour of the gay places in London.” They are drawn to this topic, terribly drawn! Although these same "faggots" - you will not find them however hard you tried. I often ask, where are your "faggots", about which you are so fucking crazy, where are they? In response, they mumbled something vague.

I am traveling in a compartment of a long-distance train with one unattractive man, we are traveling together. He tells me: “It’s good that you ended up in my compartment, otherwise it could have been someone like Boris Moiseev (famous pop star, gay), he would have pawed my legs” (oh yes, who would want to paw your legs!).

Another problem was the physical degeneration of people. If before walking down the street was a feast for the eyes, a pleasure from looking at dashing guys, strong, tall, broad-boned, with protruding buttocks, now, even with all sorts of pumping up, I see some kind of degenerates. Small, petite, non-sexy faces, thin fingers, flat asses, trousers hanging behind like a curtain. Men from the Caucasus also degenerated. For example, Dagestan has become populated by short men with average height of 1.60, most of them. Uzbeks used to be tall too, now I see only small ones. Bloody hell! I read on dating sites - there are thirty-year-old men weighing 55-58-60 kg!

However, these changes did not happen overnight. In the 1990s, there were still remnants of the past. Even then, there were attractive guys, normal men from the Caucasus, there was Yeltsin's freedom, a lot of eateries, beer pubs, wineries, where people easily entered into conversations and got to know each other. There were no cell phones that were constantly in hand. The ears were not plugged with headphones. (These mobile phones and headphones will return to you like a boomerang in the face!)

There were many Chechens. I once asked one of them - are you a Chechen or what? He smiled and immediately asked: “Listen, what do you want, mate? So tell me, don't be shy." We then had sex. I approached a tall Caucasian guy of a sporty type on the platform and asked something, he also smiled, and his dick got hard. How nice!

There were a lot of stalls, chaotic trade, cheap eateries open around the clock. At night you could go outside and see life.

Once I went to a stall and asked something from the Azerbaijani guy who worked there, like "where are you from." He immediately told me to wait five minutes for him to close the stall, and together we drove to my house. We fucked in different ways and a lot... 

Another time I saw in the evening, already in the dark, an Azerbaijani, a guy selling watermelons on the street. And I was drunk and even walked with a glass of wine. Immediately, somewhere in the dark, I took his dick in my mouth. But he protested - "you don't need to put it in your mouth, I want to fuck you in the ass." We went to an old car standing nearby, right at the crossroads, where there was a stream of people, the seats were laid out there, I lay down, and he fucked me in the ass. Moreover, some other merchants knew and saw what was happening there, in the car. No problem!

The last case of dating “in the old style” happened to me at the end of the 1990s. I couldn't sleep, and I was drunk. At about one in the morning I went to our metro station. Everything was already closed. There's a guy hanging around here who's stuck and can't get home. A Russian, also drunk. Good guy. Married. I invited him to my place, told him that at my house we can add booze. We came, drank, started talking about women. He told me that he likes to lick. Well, pussy, of course.

In short, I got doggy style on the couch, and he took care of my ass. He put his fingers in there, tried to put his fives in, then licked the ass, fucked, again stuck his fingers and palm, fucked, licked the ass, fucked, fucked to the point of insanity, licked the ass again, pulled out the sperm with his fingers and smeared it on my ass, licked, fucked, etc. Wow - he wanted to lick а pussy, but licked my ass!

Exhausted, we collapsed and fell asleep. In the morning, as expected, he had a hard-on, and he fucked me. The most intense situation was later, when I gave him tea in the kitchen. He looked at me with wide eyes, trying to understand what had happened and who I was. But he quickly packed up and left. I then wondered - how did this happen? After all, he is not at all gay!

In fact, the majority of straights, except for congenital cunt-addicts, maybe two-thirds of straights could well fuck with men alternatively, if it weren’t for the pressure of public opinion, if this topic wasn’t forced on male society and on society in general.

Then came the 2000s, a completely different era. You won’t meet guys like this one again by chance, men from the Caucasus were kicked out, their place was taken by small and completely sexless Uzbek guest workers, young people, as I already wrote, physically degenerated, besides, they became some kind of stupid and aggressive. Everything has moved to the Internet.

Yes, and I got old. But about very recent times - somehow later.

Something from my French life

For almost a whole year, 1987, I lived right in the center of Paris, on rue du Faubourg-St. Martin, near the Chateau d'Eau metro station.

Rue du Faubourg Saint-Martin in Paris:

On the same street, a few houses away, was the famous gay bar “Moustachu”. But, oddly enough, I never went there, I even forgot about its existence. What should I do there?

Meanwhile, many Turks and Kurds lived in this quarter, there was a whole street with Turkish shops and tea establishments, where there was always a backgammon table in the middle. They did not try to find new acquaintances there, because there were people who knew each other or relatives gathered.

Kurd:

Once on a day off, I went out into the street and I just exchanged glances with one guy of 19-20 years old. It turned out that he was Kurdish. In this case, the initiative was on his part (a rare case). I invited him for a cup of coffee at a nearby cafe. He knew three words in French, I knew three words in Turkish. This is how we explained. He was probably sent from Turkey by some relatives or fellow villagers to work in their semi-legal Turkish shop. He had zero money. We went to my place, immediately undressed and went to bed and he fucked me in the ass. Without any conversations and questions. His body was good, his ass was hairy, his cock was of a decent size. After that, he began to visit me regularly. And even stayed overnight. In such cases, we fucked even in the morning. Then he stole something from me, I don’t remember what, either a camera or money. Such incidents took place more than once, so I don’t remember exactly what he stole. After that, I stopped seeing him.

Turk. Driver.

Another time I met a Turk. He was a man in his thirties, a truck driver. Athletic figure. I invited him to my place. He also spoke a mixture of French and Turkish words. He wanted to leave me before the subway closed, because at first he did not understand why I invited him to my place. And I cunningly changed the clock, kept saying that it was still early, early, and then “suddenly” it became late, the metro closed, and he had to go to bed with me in the same bed. Only when touching me did it become clear to him that it was possible to fuck, and he said: “well, let me…” (or something like that). After that he started coming to me on weekends. Together we went out for a walk around the city, sat in a cafe on the terraces, drank coffee. And then we would come back to me and fuck. He had no one in Paris, except for some of his countrymen.

Our relationship ended stupidly. Once he came to my place, and some assholes began to beat hard on the door. I hadn’t even fucked with them,  we just met in a pub. The Turk did not like it very much, he made a remark to me, as far as he could do it in French, pointed out to me that I was behaving incorrectly, and I did not see him again. That's what I'm sorry about. Was a good friend.

Later I lived in a suburb close to Paris. In the suburb, near the metro station, there was always a cafe where I went every time I returned from work. In other words, I had a permanent "my cafe". Sometimes I lingered there for a long time ... There was even a place in the cafe at the counter, which others did not occupy. Over time, I already knew almost all the visitors by sight, they knew me too. In France, the society is masculine, and ordinary cafes are dominated by men, if not exclusively by men. I noticed that in this case there was a “phenomenon of a prison”, a closed male community, when men begin to look at men, show interest in each other. More than once it happened that the bartender suddenly brought me a beer or other drink, explaining that "this is from such and such who treats you."

This is how I met some people in ordinary bars (I must say, not very often) and fucked. They were mostly Arabs.

Arabs either ask for money or steal something, but Arabs fuck. And to fuck a man in the ass is their norm. Or a variant of the norm, if you like. By the way, Arabs kiss. Unlike our random Caucasian fuckers, Arabs kiss if they fuck with men, for real.

It is easier to communicate with Arabs. There are no those endless, unnecessary and superfluous “sorry”, “thank you”, which the French say automatically and without any reason, and which is sometimes terribly annoying. (Why endlessly thank and apologize?)

That's all my impressions for 12 years of living in Paris, in the world capital, one might say.

Sometimes I returned home in Paris from somewhere late, when the subway was no longer running, or I went out when I couldn’t sleep to look out for someone, and the streets were all deserted, I alone rambled... Some kind of surreal sight! I kept asking myself - am I really the only one who needs it the most, the only one who is so preoccupied, are they all well adjusted, settled, prosperous and fucked to satiety in this huge city?

Paris

In Russia, meanwhile, there were changes. Almost all of my employers moved to Russia or their activities were transferred there, and it was hopeless to look for anything new in France at my age. Yes, and I didn't want to. All that was left was to live on welfare. And I didn't want that.

So it was time to return.

Discovering Turkey

 

In 1986, when I was already living in France, a friend of mine suggested that I go with him on a tourist trip to Turkey. I remember that at that time I had a Soviet “permanent residence” passport, and I had to apply for a visa for Turkey. Russians in those days did not travel to this country, as they travel en masse now. They were not seen or known there. So my visa application at the Turkish consulate in Paris was an event even for the consular staff. And in Turkey itself, it happened like this: I once stood at the entrance to our hotel, and suddenly I hear some people telling each other (I understood a little Turkish) that Russians were staying here, in this hotel. We were such a curiosity!

Turkish resort Kilyos:

 

Türkiye beckoned and attracted. It seemed that many sexual fantasies could come true there. And the main thing is that there are men and active men there. This has been confirmed. We bought a trip for one week to the Black Sea resort of Kilyos, 40 kilometers from Istanbul. So we had a rest on the beach and, in addition, we took walks in Istanbul twice.

Turkish soldiers:

At the Kilyos resort itself, we also made acquaintances. We were lying on the beach together, there were Turks or Turkish soldiers (there was a military unit nearby), and they would definitely pay attention, whistle, say something in their language. Sometimes they will sit down next to us, and we will begin to explain ourselves in different languages. Once we were lying like this, sunbathing, and two Turkish soldiers stuck to us. Just as if we were girls. And just like with girls they made a date for the evening. We had one room for two, so my friend went first with one of the soldiers. After a while, he came out ecstatic. With "mine" we had so far sat and waited on the bench, but now it was our turn. Everything was fine, my soldier fucked me, but after that he still began to beg for some kind of gift - "give me this, give me that." I didn't give him anything.

Istanbul. Taksim Square:

We went to get acquainted with Istanbul. During the day we went back and forth, did not know where to look for “adventures”. On one street, my friend popped into a store for some reason, and I remained waiting for him at the door. Suddenly I saw that a crowd of Turks gathered around me, mostly young people. They stood and looked at me. They looked at me lustfully. I was even embarrassed. A little later, we slowly walked along the main street past a cafe with tables outside. The waiter came out, a young guy, and stared at us. In one hand he held a tray with a teapot and cups. With the other hand, he began to wave to one of his own, so that they urgently came out to look at us. At the same time, his tray overturned and crashed to the floor. Then I thought - what was so special about us? Just blondes wearing jeans, that's all. And do other European men also catch the same stares on themselves and do Turks react to them in the same way?

But what about women? We asked some of our group. It was said that in the city the Turks silently followed them for miles, just walked behind them for several hours, without bothering them in any way and without making attempts to get to know them, they were simply happy at the sight of them. However, they also followed us more than once and walked for a long time. We felt the tail. We had to stop, go to the store, somehow get rid of them.

Next to a Turkish soldier:

 

Turkey was under martial law at the time. Many military men were seen in the city, they stood guard at all the monuments. You could come up and take a picture with such a soldier. When asked to take a picture together, the soldier gave a smile and, of course, allowed.

We rented a room in a hotel in Istanbul for one night (a seedy one, where you could bring anyone you like) and went to a gay nightclub. I vaguely remember what happened there. I only remember that four people accosted me at once. And they offered to go to fuck somewhere on the outskirts of the city. I then completely lacked the sense of self-preservation, and I went. We arrived at some wasteland, in the port area. Then I had to get out of the car so that they would fuck me in turn in this wasteland. And I balked, pretended that I changed my mind, because one of this company seemed to me completely unacceptable (fat, or what?). I could have said: "I want to fuck with these, but not with this." Well, I was a fool! I said that I would not get out of the car, I will not fuck at all. “Then where shall we take you?” they ask politely. "Back to the hotel." And they drove, and drove for almost an hour. They thanked, smiled and left at the door of the hotel. I still don't understand how it happened and how it ended so well. I could have tolerated the fat and "unacceptable" one, no big deal.

It was already three o'clock in the morning, the center of Istanbul, and I had not yet fucked with anyone. There were fewer and fewer people in the center. Suddenly, several guys literally run towards me from different directions at once. One ran up first, the other two muttered something like “oh, hell, I am too late! what a failure!" And the first one was, apparently, from somewhere in the provinces, a simple rural guy, in trousers and a white shirt. We immediately went to my hotel room (a dilapidated cheap hotel "Milan", three lira a night, but everything was possible there, you could bring anyone and do anything). Immediately we rushed into bed, and without any delay, he begins to fuck me. Fuck in the ass, no "mouth" there. It was good!

After that, the guy asked me if he could pick up empty beer bottles, put them in a bag and left. But - I really liked this picture, how three people ran across yhe street towards me ... And in general, the feeling that fucking with men is the norm of life.

(After a couple of months, the topic of AIDS will appear, it will reach the Turkish newspapers, which will spread throughout the country that this is a Western infection carried by Western gays.)