DMITRY ALEXANDROVICH
YURKA
Still has its charm
Western Belarusian village in season
harvesting potatoes. You usually wake up from
a cool but blinding ray of sunshine,
which, breaking through the ripe heavy
yellow plums in a well-washed window,
moves closer to your eyes like an arrow to
the indicated figure. Only instead of an alarm clock
a light signal to sleepy eyes that does not
release with the press of a button. And although today
Sunday, and as much as you like
indulge in erotic dreams,
nothing can be done, an act of awakening
took place.
However, the act of awakening took place
about five years ago. How I went to the seventh
cool, my mother gave me a job
introduction to the acrobatics section. So that
tear away from Maupassant and Boccaccio, secretly
read with a flashlight under the blanket. Smart
aunt advised her to send mine early
awakened sexuality into physical
exercises. Oh, what a tedious thing this is:
repeatedly work out flasks, dates and
other elements that are not so necessary in life.
I started skipping and ran instead of going to the gym
to the cinema. I remember Romeo and Juliet
Zeffirelli, sweet film, tear-jerking.
I watched it ten times, first sneaking a tear
wiping, then looking sympathetically
sobbing spectators. But always with
I was looking forward to the sex scene,
remember, at dawn, when Whiting needs
it was urgent to gallop to Mantua. "That
he was a lark..." Romeo, hugging Olivia
Hussey, lyingnaked on the stomach, and
the camera ecstatically slid from the smooth back
on the buttocks, covered with soft growth, and
then languidly delving into its curves
slender legs. I don't know who I was more into
in love: with Romeo, with Juliet or with them
love, but this scene gets me every time
worried. And now it’s inviting outside the window
tweets something nephatoe, probably
lark. And next to me he sniffles
potential Romeo, that is mine
classmate Yurka, who pulled almost
all heavy cotton blanket. He lies with his nose
against the wall, showing me a stray mop
straw hair and a shoulder in a sweaty T-shirt.
Hera spreads throughout the body from the thought,
that at any moment I can touch, and
then cuddle, feeling all the warmth of him
sleepy body.
I was kicked out of the acrobatic gym for
absenteeism, and so as not to upset my mother, I
immediately asked to go to the next section
classical wrestling. Ancient authors I'm in
I haven’t read it yet, but intuitively
was drawn to the classics. I'm there quickly
I became friends with a boy, I don’t remember his name, he
I've been doing it for a year and it was real
wrestling tights. Soon I pulled him out
Romeo and Juliet, but he fidgeted and
for some reason I didn’t cry. I was disappointed but
Otherwise I liked him. He has
there was an open face with a small nose,
ash-blonde short hair, he was
just as skinny as me. Because of one
weight category the coach usually put us
in a couple. Once there was such an exercise: I
had to bend down, taking the bodypartner
either on the shoulder or on the back. At the same time
with one hand I grabbed him by the neck,
the other - under the groin. Then we run in a circle.
Instead of grabbing, my right hand did
smooth sliding movement on knitted fabric
crotch, then I tensed and jerked it
picked it up. It was hard, but pleasant. Then
the coach gave the command to change. And here I am with
I remembered with horror that I was wearing instead
special tights, ordinary T-shirt and shorts, and under
them elastic swimming trunks. I was ashamed of my
plebeian uniform and introduced how he
my hand will get tangled in my crumpled panties.
But the boy quickly bent down, and, deftly
he picked me up and rushed around in a circle, so that I
sweated from fear of being dropped. B
there were showers in the locker room, but I usually
changed clothes and ran away, leaving the shower on
house It's not that I'm in a hurry, it's just
I felt awkward standing naked next to
older guys who, playing each other
muscles in front of each other, swearing,
boasting of his adventures with
"chicks". I was afraid that I would be pushed
slippery floor or, which was absolutely true
scary, they will laugh at my nonsense
too athletic body, or worse
just in case I suddenly get...
That day we were the last to arrive
locker room, people were already leaving. He
quickly undressed and headed to the shower, called
me. I refused, they say, even towels
I didn’t take it, I’ll be home anyway. "Hell, even
There’s no one to rub your back,” he said
plaintively, and then somehow alive, as if suddenly
found,added, “I have a towel.”
huge, maxpoboe, enough for two."
Yurka stirred in his sleep and threw it over
me leg. His legs are muscular
tanned and hairless, like that one
boy. Only the shoulders are much wider, and when
his narrow hips seemed to me to be
ideal, although he did not go in for sports and
I ignored physical education at the institute, like
everything. His classmates liked him, although
never showed any preference.
I wonder if he's already fucking? Before the "potatoes"
we have never communicated closely, he is from
another group. During the year of study we chatted in
smoking room a couple of times about lectures,
teachers, nothing. Here we are
We moved in together by accident. I approached
village council, where the bus brought us from
cities and where they were distributed among the huts, woman
Ganulya simply stated:
- And I am eight of these two khlapchukou
I would have caught the jumpers.
- Aren’t you going to take chamu jauchat? - with
the foreman asked laughing.
- So they were already flying, hot. Hang it up
hour yes ix boys began to dance, so dzvyaryma
Yes, the nights were knocking, - she
smiled. - The guys are the most friendly. A
You're a idler, Mikola, and you're on your own. Nyahay may
guys yes tbaix u gosci hodziats.
That’s how Yurka and I ended up in ganulina
hut. Grandma prepared a “hall” for us, and
she lived in the bedroom herself.
“Firanki karunka,” the grandmother showed
straight onto the white curtains, - hatsya pyki ab
ix don't suck.
“Good, grandma,” Yura said softly.
joyfully looking at the TV, - I
Telebachan is not working for you?
- What a shame! Everything is like thatGoradze. -
Ganulya smiled smugly at the gap-toothed
mouth. - Gladzice, guys, just don’t
bedroom I from the cigars to the qi yard
Sensy. And so everything is here for you, capska nya
budze!
Yurka looked askance at the modest
sofa:
- Where to sleep?
- And now we’ll ruin the spoon, - and she
deftly opened the sofa bed, then
laid out clean linen and gave one, although
a large, cotton blanket.
“At least two pillows,” turning to
to me, Yurka whispered in confusion.
Oh, naive Belarusian village!
Put two guys under one blanket
eighteen years old! It's okay. Well
She didn't have any extra blankets.
- The washstand is paddled with apples, and the lasagne is
Nyadzelyu already got it, bachyli, kalia
club? - Ganulya blurted out, winked and
she jumped out with a bucket, probably to milk the cow.
I hesitated another minute and, carefully
stepping on the slippery tiles, he approached
shower cabin. He stood with his back, washing away
soaped head. I didn't know what to do.
He began to unscrew the taps in the next cabin,
I was doused with ice water, I jumped back, and
then he called:
- Well, come here, you've been there for a long time
you're messing around with these kpahamu. He grabbed
me by the hand and pulled me under the thick stream.
“Give me your hand,” and he squeezed out onto mine.
palm shampoo from a tube.
I got out of the shower and, turning away,
began to soap his hair. Suddenly he came up
side and ran his fingers through my hair.
- We sweat so much on the mats that we can’t wash ourselves.
need it right away.
At the same time, he removed my hands from
sacred process of ablutionheads and
began to massage pleasantly. I closed my eyes
and leaned against the edge of the partition. Then I
I felt his fingers in my ears.
Seeing and hearing nothing, I felt
peace only through his breath and
touches, soft and confident. Soon
I felt a hand on my neck, it attracted
me into the shower, where there are pleasant warm streams,
intertwined with his hot hands,
washed off the foam. Then I got soaped
a sponge and a smile of wet eyes.
“Now get to work,” he said.
turning his back and leaning against the wall
with both hands.
Yurka turned over on his stomach, and his face
rested on my shoulder. They fly around the room
two village flies performing mating
dance with an inspired buzz and brazenly
noticing the sticky tape hanging from
lampshade. When they land on Yukina
cheek, I quietly blow them away. He doesn't
wakes up. Let him sleep today
Sunday, by the way, there will be a bathhouse.
The sponge quickly slid up his
back and then carefully descended to
invisible border beyond which I was afraid
lower your eyes. I tried to push hard
on a washcloth, not so much demonstrating
male power, how much trying to distract myself
from an incomprehensible state of internal
tension, most of all fearing to reveal it
external tension to the eyes. At some point
for a moment I felt that I was losing
control, and began frantically fingering
distracting images in your thoughts. The nurse is mine
salvation, laughter, help! "Now on
your forehead fell, andgrow up, back
you will fall." And on his shoulder blade
a birthmark the size of a three-kopeck coin, and
much lower too, smaller. As you wish
reach there with your hand... And then there,
where in training... Oh, it seems
we've arrived... What if he turns around now?
My cheeks were burning. The crafty nurse of me
betrayed.
Yurka's sleeping palm is already on me
stomach. Let her go lower, I
already ready. God she's going down I
I'm getting colder. Apparently he is very erotic
dreams. It’s already touching, we need to hurry up
jump out of bed. Someone else's hot hand
in my groin. The hand of my classmate
favorite of college girls. Yes I still
study with him for four years! Get up! I can't
stand up. He seems to be stroking. Is it really all
still in a dream?
“Thank you, now it’s my turn,” he
turns. I'm gone. But what is it? U
him too. I want to hand over a washcloth, but he
your hand is already holding mine... Oh, how sweet
tingling. I'm afraid to look up. He
squeezes with all five fingers... until it hurts. So what?
Am I standing with this stupid washcloth? Free
I touch the nipple with my hand and stroke it
chest. The sponge fell out of the other one, and I
touched for the first time... At the same time
the memory makes me tense, like
then. But then the door slammed
locker room, voices were heard.
- The laznya has already been closed, - no
announced in a ringing voice like an old woman
Ganulya, opening the door. - Zen are kind,
Ustavaytse, Kali ranitsoypoidtse, not many people
rich budze. Everyone went to KpimashI would
paehaushy, so garelki tamaka nabrausya, yak
The pig is grazi, so the sir grabbed it. Yes
We didn’t make it home, we scanned the road. -
Ganulya approached the icon, tying
handkerchief and crossed herself. - U kascel
I'm going to sleep. Are you going to the dance, paeuna?
- Yes, grandma.
- Well, take care of yourself, little one... - and
fluttered out just as suddenly.
Yurka's hands were already on top of the blanket,
eyes are open.
Someone forgot things and voices never
Having entered the shower room, they fell silent. I'm careful
I looked into the locker room - no one. Closing
the door tightly, took the soap and began to use it slowly
drive under the arms. Without saying a word, he
gently touched my wrist, took it away
white slippery piece and quickly lathered
washcloth. I turned to the foggy window
expecting the touch of a sponge, but felt
flexible fingers vigorously massaging the neck and
shoulders. But what was his name?
Looking thoughtfully out the window and squinting at
sun, he asked:
- Did you bring shampoo?
- And even pumice.
- And I have a whole terry
bed sheet
- Let's not go to breakfast, Ganulya
won't be offended if we drink a mug
curdle milk on an empty stomach. You had it somewhere
cookies? Yurka carefully climbed over
me, padded to the backpack, from where
bags, packs,
banks.
- The mother was still worried about what to feed
things will be bad here. Look what's not
pushed.
We quickly washed up, had breakfast,
filled the bag with bath belongings and went out
to the street. Footprints still gleamed in the grass
nightfrosty, but the sun is already
warmed up. Passing by the ruins of the castle,
we slowed down because Yurka became
enthusiastically talk about the magnate's family,
who owned these lands in
seventeenth century. He approached the cracked
wall and gently ran his hand along the antique
masonry He had long fingers with
amazingly well-groomed nails. And when he
managed to keep an eye on them after the daily
digging in the ground?
The fingers disappeared, and in a moment
the burning sponge drove across the
spine. His free hand lay on me
at the waist. And the washcloth was already softly walking along
buttocks. Exhaustion, shame and something else
an unknown feeling washed over me, I
I relaxed and could barely stand.
There was no one in the bathhouse. As soon as we
undressed, Yurka pulled me into the steam room.
We forgot about the broom, why is it noisy?
regretted it, then briskly threw a ladle of water on
hot stove and stretched out on a wide
board steps. I climbed up the step
higher, squatted down and curiously
began to look at a part I had not seen before
his body. It was smooth and elastic. He
He put his head in his hands and seemed to fall asleep.
Small droplets appeared on his tanned
skin. I soon became soft from the heat, moisture
streamed across the forehead, filling the eyes and hair
were burning. I put my feet down, but there was no way to step
nowhere. Then I carefully placed one
foot between his outstretched legs, barely touching,
and the other reached to the floor. rang out
sigh.
I felt him nervousbreathing is not in
tact of movement of the washcloth. Half turned around,
poorly understanding what I was doing, I extended my hand to
the burning barrel of a gun and stroked it
solid trunk. He groaned.
I opened the door and stepped out into the coolness.
He doused himself with a basin of water and quickly soaped himself up.
At that moment the steam room door swung open,
and Yurka, staggering, wandered off to choose
basin.
- It’s strange that there are none of ours.
- Everyone got too drunk yesterday, so they’re dozing off.
But where is the local population?
- And on kipmashy at Pastavakh, - Yurka
laughed, then went to the door to
dressing room and threw an iron hook.
- Why did you lock it?
“I don’t like surprises,” and he
looked into the only unpainted one
window Then he started splashing water on himself
from the pelvis.
- Don't splash me, it's cold.
In response, he, laughing, threw out the entire basin
at my feet.
- Lie down on the bench, I’ll wash you,
as it should be,” he said in a real tone
bath attendant.
I obediently lay down on my stomach. He doused
me from the basin, lathered hard
natural sponge and began to work on mine
back. Then on the thighs, with strong jerks
on the legs. All I could do was give in
the charm of the strength of his hands. I'm in the city bathhouse
visited rarely, only when the house was switched off
water. And they never washed me, however,
almost never... But suddenly a thought struck me:
and how am I nepebephycb, because I’m already ready...
I crouched down and put my other hand under
velvety hemispheres. Before my eyes
pulsated swollen, blue under the tender
skin, blood vessels, and I ran overwith his tongue.
The boy's fingers plunged into my hair and
raised my head a little, and in my mouth
turned out to be part of his body. She smoothly
moved. Soon this strange feeling
was supplemented with even more unexpected
taste and sound. He wheezed and his body
he was shaking uncontrollably. She clapped again
the door to the locker room, and we went into the shower.
Someone knocked. Yurka went to the door and
dropped the hook.
“Ah, geta garadzkiya,” drawlingly
the man rasped, looking at us, and pulled in
with a child of about six years old. I didn't get up
in a hurry, I washed myself. Then carefully
rubbed Yurka's back, looking businesslike,
deliberately showing the man that we
we are in a hurry and are not inclined towards him
hangover utterances. He looked
intently, with a clear desire to get involved
conversation. But after a few minutes we are already
smoked in the dressing room, wrapped in one
a terry sheet, which visibly brought us closer together.
Soon our
classmates, and we began to get dressed.
I agreed to come by after the bath
preference for the guys. Yurka, not a player,
said that he would go to the neighboring village for
take a look at the church there. By evening he
returned with a bottle of Belovezhskaya. Then -
to dance at the club.
He didn't miss a single one every time
with a new young lady. And when he's crazy
picked up the full-breasted club manager (nickname
among students Size Six), then almost
everyone stopped dancing and
applause turning into general
laughter, did not take their eyes off the breathtaking
couples.blushing matpoha, proudly
upholding the honor of the rural intelligentsia,
and at the same time the wig, she worked rhythmically
hips, dancing, presumably, tango,
although rock music was playing. Free from
wig with her hand she sometimes, to the beat of her
internal motive, imperiously pressed against
not weak breasts too small for her
gentleman, and Yurka kept
the most serious expression on his face. With glimpses
burning passion on sharp turns.
The dance ended with the happy tear of the Sixth
Size, painted with blot-colored ink
sophomore diary, and her grateful
knixed, smoothly turning into drunkenness
curtsey It was all over at eleven
but the flushed students are clearly not
were about to leave, making plans for the night
adventures. We lit a cigarette on the porch, Yurka,
staggeringly put his hand on my shoulder:
- Let's go home, it's early tomorrow.
corvée.
I wasn't drunk, but I decided to play along. And
hugging him around the waist, he led him, stumbling, along
dark village street.
His arms wrapped around my torso. He
I listened: there was no one anymore. And without looking away
head, awkwardly tried to kiss me.
The nose was in the way. I was the first to guess, I tilted
head, and our lips greedily pressed into each other
friend, and the water splashed down his cheek. He took
me into the next booth and sat down in front of me
squatting. Started stroking mine
ankles, then calves...
- Do you know how to do a massage? - asked
I am Yuri when we had already gone to bed.
- Do you want to? - in this sharp answer
I thought there was a double meaning.
Isilently turned over on his stomach and
put his hands under his head, listening to
old lady snoring in the next door
room. After a pause, he threw back the blanket and
sat astride me, squeezing my knees
hips. I instantly felt the rush
blood to the place of contact and felt
the hot breath of the rider. Slowly and
hesitantly he began to stretch his shoulders
muscles. Soon the hands froze and the breath
came close to my ear. I stood up and
lips caught a burning tongue.
I stood with my eyes closed
rubber mat, feeling his lips first
feet, then lower legs, thighs and...
finally... He bit lightly, and this
excited me even more.
Yurka helped me turn over. Kisses
they burned him first on his neck, then on his arms, then on his chest,
then the stomach. And suddenly I found myself in it
the very root, and his long daring fingers
squeezed my wrists as if I wanted
break out. A jerk, and the dim light of a lantern
outside the window his outline flashed before his eyes
thighs and then I felt like on the lips
something impatient and hot is pressing.
Then he stood up, turned around and with his hand
aimed my gun at the target. Oh how
It was amazing to enter this world
bliss and trembling. My hands greedily grabbed
a body with which I already felt one
whole. The boy moaned, but the sound was in ecstasy
the one that escaped from me probably drowned it out
moans. The hand that slid over his stomach
I felt the pulsating moisture.
Yurka lay down next to me, pulled me towards him,
kisseddeeply and passionately, and then all
fell heavily on my back. I
felt persistent tremors, pain,
He tensed up, gradually relaxed and...
this seemed like a condition to me
weightlessness. After some time he already
frantically bit my shoulder, but I didn’t
felt pain. Only bliss.
When I got out of the shower, he wrapped me
neck with a terry towel. It felt so good.
And there was a happy feeling that now I
not the only one, and not the only one. What do I have
a friend with whom I will never part.
Yurka went out into the yard to smoke. And I was watching
on a black branch with black plums on
the faded yellow background of the lantern and listened to the whispers
dry leaves torn off by the autumn wind.
I was probably happy in those moments. But with
with the alarming rustling of leaves he was already creeping up
fear of loss. Is this inevitable? And I'm with
He squeezed the pillow with force. And subconsciously I
strangled this shining...
And then it dawned on me: the boy’s name was
Yura! But I will never do it again
met.
He returned, his boots creaking, and he
match and, bringing the trembling light closer to
to my face, he said thoughtfully:
- I wonder what kind of eyes you will have
look at me tomorrow?
...Burnt by the dying flame
my fingers dropped the extinguished match, and I
felt the bitter taste of tobacco on
his tender lips. And then he curled up
curled up and buried his face in me like a child
under the mouse. And hugging this one by the shoulders
big child, I realized: he asked me
pick up something as fragile asswinging on
a lantern in the wind, our future.
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