The Russian

A commission piece for somebody on the Legendary Tier. This is a real account of an experience that the person had, which made it even hotter to write!

More commissions coming this week, too.

All characters are consenting adults (18+)

It was a simpler time back then, which isn’t surprising given the lack of technology. Facetime was done in person at a coffee shop. Snapchat was taking out your family photo album and reminiscing over the memories, and GPS was a paper map and a pen to keep track of your journey, which is exactly where I found myself on a lone trip through Tolyatti.

For those who don’t know, Tolyatti is relatively large city located a few hundred miles to the east of Moscow. I’m afraid that I can’t give you any breathtaking descriptions of a quaint little town, because Tolyatti was anything but quaint. Steeped in poverty, and in the height of the Soviet crumble, there was nothing glamorous about it. The streets were grey, drab and usually freezing. The people were starving, poor and without work due to the imploding auto-manufacturing trade which had kept the city alive, and I was a twenty nine year old American who wasn’t particularly welcome.

I’ll preface by saying that it was never my intention for my trip to Russia to turn out like it did. In fact, as most of the world was beginning to open up it’s heart to people like me, Russia was the last place I would have gone for such a welcoming.

I’d spent three days on a train before we reached the city. The small amount of Russian that I could speak had informed me that it wasn’t a wise choice for a foreigner like me to venture through such a place, but I was young and eager to sample the cultures of the world, so I took my bag and stepped onto a platform as a freezing rain fell and covered the streets in ice.

It was instantly clear to see that the people who lived there were doing what they could to survive. I was approached by two children not long after my arrival, who insisted on me purchasing a jar of pickles which they’d been carrying around in their bag. I obliged, and found the jar empty but for the pickle water.

Further along the cold city street I was offered, for a fee, of course, an otherwise banned Soviet magazine with questionable images. I declined, and dodged a mouthful of saliva when the vendor became irate.

I soon found that life in Tolyatti was nothing like I expected when I first started to plan my journey from Russia through Europe. The people were cold and hard, as were the conditions, but I persevered until I came across a boy who stopped me in my tracks.

He was far younger than I was, though the cigarette between his lips told me he was at least of age. He stood out like a diamond for a reason I’ll never understand, because other than his beauty, there was nothing particularly significant about him. He was blond, like most of the others. His hair had been cut short, and tight to his head. His features were sharp and chiselled, though there was a youthful glow to him, even under the grey skies. He was slender, like the others, and the clothing he wore was tatty and ferociously used.

“Can I have a cigarette?” I asked, because I could think of no other way of initiating conversation. He ignored me at first, before refusing when I asked again, and finally rolling his eyes and handing me the end of the one he was smoking. When I paid him two Rubles for it he gawked at me.

“You could buy two packs of cigarettes for this” he told me, though his English wasn’t as strong as I’m perhaps making out.

I shrugged. I was aware, but I hadn’t come over to him for the cigarette.

“Can you show me around the city?” I asked him, flicking the butt across the street. “I’ll pay you ten Rubles”.

Again, his bright blue eyes widened. Such money was unheard of for a couple of hours work, especially for a teenager. He looked up and down the empty street as though I was setting him up, and considered it.

“You’re an American?”

“I am”.

He regarded me with cold eyes but decided that the money was worth it and cocked his head for me to follow him.

“You can’t go down there” he said as we passed by a long street, “they’ll rob you”.

“I see”.

“You can’t go down there, either” he continued, “they’ll rob you”.

We walked further.

“You can’t go down there” he said again.

“They’ll rob me?”

“No, they’ll kill you”.

The tour continued for almost twenty minutes, until we reached a large industrial looking building which was entirely abandoned. It was covered in snow, and surrounding it was nothing but concrete.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It used to be a car manufacturer” he explained, “but now it’s empty”.

It had been many years since I’d been exploring through abandoned buildings, but I followed the young man inside. The place had been stripped of anything worth money, and evidence of homelessness was clear to see in certain parts.

“What’s your name?” He asked me.

“Richard, you?”

“Nikolai”.

His name suited him. I’m not sure why, but it did. His skin reminded me of freshly fallen snow, though, thankfully not as pale. He was flawless from head to toe, and when he offered me a cigarette from a box that had seen better days, I smiled and declined.

“Have you ever considered having sex with a man, Nikolai?”

The question was enough to land me with five years in a Soviet prison, but one of the joys of the non-existence of social media was the freedom to speak in private.

“No” he said, and I could sense the discomfort in him.

“Would you?”

He took a drag and looked away. He shook his head a moment later, but I knew what that meant, and it wasn’t no.

“How much?”

“Are you gay?” He asked me, still refusing to look at me. “Did you take me here for this reason?”

“Yes, and no. You took me here, remember?”

Nikolai glanced at me and his eyes dropped to my crotch for a fleeting second.

“Fifty Rubles”.

“That’s a lot of money”.

“Yes”.

“What do I get for that?”

“Do I look like a prostitute?” He asked viciously, and the way in which his accent accentuated the words made me smile.

“Do you know what a prostitute does?” I asked him, and the realisation struck.

“Can you pay or not?”

“Why don’t you take off your clothes first?”

Nikolai considered it before holding the cigarette in his mouth and edging his tattered pants down to his knees. He wore a pair of dull briefs that were too small for him, and I felt myself harden as I eyed his bulge.

“You’re very handsome, Nikolai” I told him, and reached for his shirt. He pulled away and lifted it himself, instead.

His body was perfect, and just like the rest of him, there wasn’t a blade of hair to be seen. He was smooth, slender and beautiful.

“Can you take them off?”

His blue eyes narrowed. “Pay me and I will”.

“Deal”.

The young man flicked the cigarette away and undressed right before my very eyes. Although it was bitterly cold for me, he seemed used to the harshness of the Russian weather, and when he stood in only his underwear, he nodded.

“Now you”.

I was slightly taken aback, but I obliged and stripped, and when I stood almost naked, I saw the bulge awaken in his briefs.

“We could go to prison for this” he told me, his eyes trailing my body.

“We could” I said, “if anybody found out”.

I reached for his face, and although he turned it, he allowed my fingers to caress his soft, yet hard cheek. He was cold to the touch, but there was something warm about him.

“Can I kiss you, Nikolai?”

The idea might have made him squirm before, and whether or not it was the money that changed his mind, I’ll never know, but the angelic young man nodded, and a moment later I tasted the flavour of chewing gum and cigarettes from his tongue.

He was hesitant in the kiss until my hand slipped inside the front of his briefs and found his flaccid cock. It wasn’t particularly large, but his response to my touch was a soft moan, and I continued to stroke him until he was erect.

Nikolai returned the favour. His fingers trailed my hard on through the fabric, making me shiver with pleasure as he became more comfortable. He squeezed me, and I squeezed him, and a moment later he took the plunge and held it in his hand.

“You’re big” he said, as we breathed on each other.

I didn’t give the order. The young Russian took to his knees and slid my boxer shorts down my legs, releasing my cock as he jerked it. He watched as things became wet, and I spied his own boner leak down his shaft.

“Does anybody know?” I asked him, because we both knew what the question was.

“No” he said, and played with his own cock as he did mine. “My parents would kick me out”.

“You can always come to America with me” I smiled, and closed my eyes as he took my cock into his mouth.

His tongue slipped back and forth over my helmet. His lips sucked me deeper until I could feel his throat squeeze more fluid from me. I held his head in my hand, guiding him further down me until he gagged softly, and when Nik found his rhythm, I moaned with pleasure.

“Let me do you” I gasped, and he was only too happy.

He stood up. His five inch nail stood out from his body, and I swallowed it hungrily until I tasted the sharp saltiness from him. I fondled his tight balls through my fingers, making him breath heavier and moan.

“I want to eat your ass” I said, pulling my head from his cock.

“That means something very different in Russia” he grinned down, but turned around and spread apart his beautiful, smooth cheeks to reveal a pink, wrinkled pucker.

I traced my thumb across it, causing him to hiss as he clenched. He was soft, and delicious, and when my tongue began to tease his rim, Nik whimpered.

“Do you like it?” I asked him, and I felt him nod as I slipped deeper into his hole.

“O bozhe!” He moaned, which roughly meant exactly what I was thinking. Oh god!

I slid my hand between his shaking legs and stroked his cock as I slurped on his wet hole. There was a soft scent of sweat, but life was too cold here to sweat too much, so mostly, the young man was sweet and beautiful.

“Can I fuck you, Nik?” I asked, and he pulled his ass cheeks open even further, as I lined my cock up.

“Hard” he grunted, “like the American magazines”.

“You like those magazines?” I smiled, edging my cock into his tight hole.

“Yes”.

“What do you like about them?”

“The men” he groaned, as his sphincter began to stretch around my cock.

“You like cock in your tight hole, Nik?”

“Yes”.

“You like taking this up your pussy, huh?”

“Yes!”

“Arch your back, boy”.

He did so. His sharp shoulder blades stuck out as he grabbed hold of an old pallet and held on whilst I began to hammer his sweet hole.

“You’re so fucking tight, Nik”.

He was moaning now. His moans echoed through the old, abandoned factory, and so did the sound of my heavy balls bouncing off his smooth ass.

“Tell me you like it, boy”.

“I like it!”

“Come on, tell me you like it!”

“I like it!’

“You can do better than that, Nik” I snarled, spanking his perfect ass and leaving a red handprint on his pale flesh.

“Fuck me harder!” He barked, “fuck me like a whore!”

I grabbed his slender hips and fucked him harder than I’d ever fucked anybody before. It took only minutes more before my cock exploded inside him, drenching his rectum in thick spurts of hot sperm, and when I looked down, Nik was draining his balls onto the floor between his legs.

I sat back against another pallet and watched as my cum began to ooze from his gaping hole. He remained naked, and began to piss as he found his cigarettes and offered me one. This time I took it.

“So” I said, breathless, “fifty Rubles”.

I lit the cigarette and reached for my wallet, but Nik stopped me with his bare foot on my pants.

“If you can fuck me like that again” he said, his wet cock inches from my face, “then you can have me for free”.

And so I did. Then I did it again after that. Then I did it every day for the three months that I remained in Tolyatti, and every year since. And now, forty years on, Nik and I remain as close as we were back then, on that cold, icy day in Russia.