“Ciao Riki!” he called as soon as he saw me; then, came around our Mondrian-colored pleather couch, bent down and put his arms around me. Smooch on the neck. “Tak co, Riki? How are you, my friend? Good?” Another smooch on the neck, then the cheek, then lips on my lips, a turn of the head and his tongue was licking my teeth.

“Mmmmm. Go fuck?” then his typical laugh.

“Okay,” I answered, adjusting my own half-hard one in my shorts — all he has to do is touch me to get me going.

“Coffee; douche; sex. Okay?” Puff, puff on the fag; cough.

“Where is Denisa today?”

“Home.” Here he turned back around from his kitchen-aimed trajectory and smiled. “Please, Riki. No problem you, me sex. Ale [but] Denisa…” He made a karate chop across his neck. “I dead. Stoh [100] percent dead.”

“And me, too, yes?”

“No, no, Denisa [much] like you. Me dead. One hundred percent.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to tell her.”

20 minutes later he walked out of the bathroom damp, in his boxers and a tank top; he walked toward me playing with himself, grinning, and lifted up shirt to show me his belly. I got up, he opened his arms and I walked into them, reaching out to rub his happy trail and squeeze his package with my other hand.

“Ahhh, Riki, my friend…” he sighed.

I was on my knees in a couple seconds. Really I don’t know any better feeling than having a dick — no, this dick — in my mouth and feeling it grow and heat up: widen at the base, expand lengthwise into my mouth, leak salt onto my tongue. The dick is fat and brown and uncut and attached to a 28-year old “I am Gypsy!” rent boy…who throws his head back into the pillow with a short cry everytime I tug his foreskin down to kiss and suck on the head…who loves to watch me deep throat him — his eyes wide in sort of a stupid, dazed way, his mouth open. I have such affection for this man; I suck this man with as much affection as I have.

Eventually we 69 but he wanted to get fucked so I said “Five more minutes you suck me and then I fuck you.” He shrugged and went back to my dick, pulling and shaking and massaging my balls as he sucks. I started fucking him ten minutes later. I like doggie style, love being above him looking down on his kinda bony shoulders, the back of his neck, his black, black hair. I like watching my dick curve into his very willing asshole; but he likes me to fuck him with his legs on my shoulders, facing each other. This position is harder for me because it puts an unwanted pressure on my pelvis and I have trouble staying fully hard, especially since I’m wearing a Trojan that for some reason feels like Glad Wrap today. I really hate condoms and they really don’t fit my slim cock anyway. Why the fuck aren’t polyurethane condoms easier to get and cheaper? Even though it’s physically harder on me, visually it’s a wonder: Every time I push into him I can see his reaction – in his eyes, how wet his tongue and lips are, sweat on his forehead, his Adam’s apple plunges as he swallows hard every fifth or sixth thrust. But what always puts me over is watching his beautiful six-pack clench and relax and flex and ripple. So I shoot in the condom, which is gross and not as much fun as feeling the cum flowing out inside this beautiful man (It’s true you can still cum while wearing a condom but you sure as hell miss out on all the juices and tissue and the sweet, scratchy ass-pubes; and oh, the heat of the inside of another body!); George doesn’t like for me to wear a condom either but considering our sexual histories and George’s Hep C scare (turns out it was a combination of an allergy to chocolate and his amphetamine use) I had decided unilaterally to wear one.

Slipping it off as George goes to defecate I wondered in which trash can I could dispose of it where the obsessively clean Denisa would not find it. Are you supposed to flush it or is that bad for the pipes?

[The day got more interesting but I have to leave where I'm at as several extremely loud male Doom-playing teenagers have invaded the backroom of this cafe where I was trying to get some focus.]

I’d felt drafted into it anyway. The sex was voluntary, but the other trappings of some stupid gay relationship, such as insisting on sharing the cigarette I’m currently smoking or drinking off the beer I’m working on or wearing my hoody (well, actually I found that hot) or holding my hand while sitting on the benches outside the railway station, all that other shit — most of it meant to publicly declare me his possession — just frustrated me.

The worst of all, however, is that Milan, this gypsy lover of mine for a week, expected me to stop slutting around. I’m dense, I know, but it never occurred to me that it would be a problem for him to see me deep kissing Pavel in Rudolfa. I mean, that’s just what we do. Pavel doesn’t like to restrain himself either and after Milan warned him to stop kissing me, he started bitching Milan out and bitching about Milan to me. It was so cute. I did have a pretty good idea, however, that it might be trouble if I took Pavel back to the toilets for some “small biznis,” meaning a 200 Kč blow job. But I did it anyway.

Milan had been pushing past my boundaries and I knew we were headed for a “break-up” eventually — my initial prediction had been two weeks — but I thought I’d let him do it for himself. Probably make him feel better. Plus I thought if I rode it out I might get inside his ass again. But what I really wanted to happen was for him to join in the fun. I don’t see much chance of that from this queen.

Not much drama ensued when Pavel and I came back from the toilets. Milan just continued to look vexed. We had gone back there separately and returned separately. Aren’t we clever? I don’t think this fooled anyone, not the bartenders, not anyone at our table, not even Milan.

Milan was in for more consternation because Joseph walked in rather late in the evening. Joseph and I had been spending quite a bit of time together at the station, teaching each other choice words from our respective languages (Joseph is Slovak but Czech and Slovak are very similar), and gossiping about punters. I think I’ve become the closest thing he has to a best friend since Igor left for Germany. But I never expected anything like what happened between us this particular night.

I thought maybe Joseph was drunk because of his shaky steps down the stairs. I was sure of it when he put his arm around the guy next to him — who just happened to be the ex-boxer whom I tricked with at his ubytovna — and allowed the guy to lay his hand on Joseph’s knee.

But oh, it got worse than that.

After a round of Pavel’s typical exhibitionism — showing off his dick and muscles and mugging for my camera — Joseph agreed to show us his dick. I’d remembered Chris’ telling me that Joseph’s dick was thin. Well, I guess anything with less girth than a beer can is thin to Chris because what I saw was thick enough. I had to suck it, of course. As soon as the guy next to him went to buy cigarettes I leaned over to Joseph and asked him if he wanted to go to the toilets with me and let me blow him. Joseph smiled and said okay, but then nodded his head gently towards Milan, who was glaring at me. I just said, “No problem,” and was thinking, if this doesn’t get rid of him nothing will.

Joseph and I didn’t bother hiding the fact that we were going to the back rooms together and I didn’t bother looking to see Milan’s reaction. When I pulled Joseph’s dick out in the toilet, he was half-hard and his dickhead was wet. I took his shirt off but he was ticklish and started chuckling. I had no intention, really, of having complete sex with him in there; I just wanted a taste. And I wanted to see his dick hard and, wow, though I don’t think it’s nearly the 22 cm he bragged as having a while back, it’s certainly the biggest of any station boy I’ve had in the 18 months I’ve been here. Oh, wait, except for Slovak Pavel, but he’s not around anymore.

We finished up quickly, just a little sucking and a lot of kissing, and went back out into the main room. Milan was still there. I had expected him to leave. I thought I’d been giving him a bruising; but he would rather bitch and sulk, like the queen he is, than give me what I deserve and desire — which is the finger and a kiss-off.

Back at the table he gave me plenty of the former but not the latter. I continued kissing on whomever I wanted and with whomever wanted me to, including a barman and the former trick. Pavel got progressively more drunk and crazier, took off his shirt, dropped trou and flexed for my camera.

[For more pix of Pavel go to my flickr account. Join flickr, add me as a friend and I will do the same. You will have to be a friend on flickr's system to see the naughty bits. ]

Eventually we all wound down. I was getting sleepy and had the munchies. Off to McDonald’s. I’ve eaten more McDonald’s here in Prague in one year than I ate my entire life in the United States. Not that I like it particularly. It’s just conveniently near U Rudolfa and it’s better, marginally, than the fast food stalls on the Square, full of super-greasy, stinky Czech sausages and tasteless řizek. And really, there is no where else in Prague to get halfway decent French, er, freedom fries or hranolky late at night or early in the morning.

I bought a sackful of 20 Kč cheeseburgers and brought them outside for everyone to eat. Everyone thanked me but Milan. We stood around munching, discussing what to do next. I shot some more stupid pix of Pavel exposing himself outside the Eurotel store on vaclavske namesti­. Joseph and I were making eyes at each other and when given the choice to go to Valentino, with the option of a private kabinky for fucking, or to lounge on sofas in Stella, Joseph smiled and chose Valentino. Milan at first agreed and then changed his mind, either suddenly realizing he didn’t want to be tortured anymore or realizing what Joseph and I were thinking about doing. In any case, Joseph and I were glad to be rid of him.

We headed off from vaclavske namesti­, crossed the street over to Museum, through the underpass where the smell of pizza still lingered, up the stairs to Vinohradska. As we were going up the stairs and knew we were alone, I pushed Joseph roughly against the railing and tried to kiss him. He pulled back from me, his eyes flitting around in a slight panic; but no one was there. “Potm,” he said and I began to think there was no promise in anything that had happened at Rudolfa.

I was wrong. As soon as we had walked the three blocks up the hill to Valentino and were standing outside, Joseph grabbed me from behind and kissed me. In front of the door guy, who smirked. Then we went inside and sat at a table on the first floor. It felt like a date. Joseph was either smiling and looking at me or smiling, chuckling and shaking his head. He couldn’t believe what he was doing, he said, that he liked me but he didn’t know why. I was anxious to get in his ass but wasn’t sure he was going to give it up to me for free.

So I asked him, “Joseph is this biznis or normani sex?”

“Yes, biznis but no money. No money.”

I’m still not sure what that means. Perhaps it was his way of putting distance between us or perhaps he considers it as some sort of arrangement between a boy and his pimp. Perhaps he doesn’t know what he means.

After finishing off our caffeine drinks we went downstairs for a couple beers. Joseph seemed anxious to get things going so I didn’t object when he insisted we leave our half-full Gambrinus and head to the back cabins for sex.

Things progressed normally when we closed the door on the rest of the bar, although some chubby queen tried to push in with us. I don’t like to get my clothes off so fast. I like feeling a hard cock in jeans, then in underwear, then to suck it as it sticks out of the guy’s underwear. Joseph was hard after only a little bit of kissing and gasped and closed his eyes when I pushed him back on the bench to suck his cock. But his ass was what I wanted. I lifted his legs to find his peach and pushed and licked at it with my tongue. I was a little disappointed by the small amount of chlupy or hair, in his crack but his reactions to my tongue made it a lot of fun: Banging his head against the wall a couple times while I rimmed him, he panted “Ty vole, ty vole,” over and over —to the pain in his head or the tongue in his ass, I’m not entirely sure.

Finally I got what I really wanted though. While I was sucking on his nipple and licking his chest he put his head forward and whispered in my ear, “You want anal sex?” My answer was to immediately push him down on his back and go after his ass with my tongue again. I’d lost most of my hard-on a few minutes back, somewhere in between scrounging around in my backpack for the lube and tasting his chest-sweat. I knew the only way to get it back was to rim him and hear his reactions. Reliably, I got hard again, felt around with my fingers for his hole, slipped one finger in for size — tight but not too tight at this point, after all that spit that had been applied — then I guided my dick in slowly. After a few test thrusts I was ready to go at it. 10 minutes of varying speeds of fucking and Joseph was ready to give up. His ass let go of a big, soft fart and he said, “Toilet! 100%!”

OK, Joseph, OK. He was embarrassed but I told him it was normal. After he came back it was clear we’d lost the momentum we’d had and so I just jacked off watching him jack off. Not a great end to a pretty good session. But the fucking in the middle had been very nice.

Neither Joseph nor I had any place to sleep so we decided to crash in the cabins. It was a slow weeknight in Valentino anyway and I didn’t think we’d be disturbed. I was wrong. While Joseph lounged in a very uncomfortable position on the lightly padded bench and I sat on the floor with my head propped against the edge of the bench, two dicks came through the glory holes and started bouncing against my cheek. Thinking, why not?, I picked the most handsome of the two to suck — not the biggest by the way — started jacking the other one and soon had another couple loads of cum to enjoy. The owner of the biggest cock — I couldn’t see him that well through the glory hole but he looked okay — wanted to come into our cabin and finish off. I decided that wouldn’t be fair to Joseph and declined.

I slept a couple hours after that, happy.

Nicholas shows up at the station every day asking me if I have biznis for him. And often I do. [Although he caused me some problems the other day by upping his agreed upon price when he met the client. That is a no-no and I poked his chest a couple times when I berated him about him. If he wants more he should ask for more up-front, not wait until I'm not there to negotiate. The client felt the same way and backed out of the deal. Homo knows best] Yesterday I told him that yes, I did have biznis for him but only if he spread his legs. As usual, he good-naturedly said no. But only at first. Ten minutes later while we were all loitering on the benches outside the station, Nicholas informed me through Miro that he was ready.

“Why not, I need the money,” he said in Czech. This made me happy, too, of course. And Clint was happy when I called him and so everybody was happy.

I’ve suspected all along that Nicholas was gay and now I’m even more sure of it. Not because he bottomed; but because he pounded away at his hard dick while he did it.

Good boy!

His face and neck were tanned, his face was full and he looked like he’d gained at least 5 kilos. Just before he was dragged off by the police 3 months ago, Jarda’s physical state had deteriorated considerably. Besides being homeless, and thus none too good at acquiring all the basic food groups, he was using pervitin, also called piko, every day. His weight had dropped, his cheeks were sunken, his skin was ultra-pale and his eyes lacked the friendly spark he’d had when I first met him. Still, after all he’d been through, he had a beautiful ass and I wanted it.

A couple months ago — it must have been May because that’s when I had the most free cash — I decided to fuck all the station boys I’d been wanting all winter. Jarda’s ass was first on my list. At first he resisted me, for several days in fact. He told me we were kamaráds and he didn’t think he could do it. Then, he said he could but not after I told him I wanted to fuck him. It took another couple days of having no money for him to give in. At the time I had no place to do it except Valentino. We spent an hour or so hanging out in the big back room on the middle floor. He said he wanted to get a little drunk first. I said it was no problem. Although at first he was stiff and unwilling to engage in public displays of affection, after a couple beers he had his arm around me and was nuzzling my neck.

I took about an hour myself to loosen up and get in the mood, then took him back to again where he immediately started making out with me. He was breathing hard as he rubbed up against me. By the time I picked him up by the waist, plopped his butt down on the padded vinyl bench in order to suck him better I could tell he was hard beneath his jeans. In fact, when I unzipped him and yanked his jeans down he gasped and had a look on his face that said, “Finally!”

We’d both taken Viagra donated by a client and my dick felt so tight it almost hurt and I wanted it inside Jarda as soon as possible. After a little cocksucking I turned him around roughly and ate him out a bit, which nearly made me cum: nice, lightly hairy ass-crack. I knew I couldn’t last much longer with this boy.

Clint had told me that he didn’t mind getting fucked at first, but that after a few minutes he was protesting and saying “ow, ow, ow.” I stuck a finger in to see how tight he was and decided he wasn’t going to have a problem with my dick. I slid right in with no response from Jarda, other than a slight lifting of his head. He lost his erection almost immediately. I felt a little bad that I had to cut short his good time, as he had been moaning and hissing as I sucked him, but this is what I had wanted, what I was paying for.

I banged him pretty hard; I kept slipping out from too large and too enthusiastic a fucking arc. Quite a trooper, he only made a sound when I went deep, otherwise just a slight increase in his breathing rhythm. I must have fucked him for about ten minutes but wanted to spare him my sperm in his guts. I turned him around and right away he grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me back onto the padded bench, bending down to suck and jack me. I took over the jacking while he steadied himself on my shoulders, leaned over and slurped my chest and sucked on my nipples. I thought at the time, Where’d he learn this? And then I came, and he fell on top of me, exhausted, I guess, and laughed. I wasn’t in the mood to get him up again and I didn’t figure he cared too much. I was hoping he’d stick around and drink some more. Being inside him made me even more fond of him than I already was.

Back at our table, which a grinning Arssi — possibly the least homophobic straight guy I’ve ever met, by the way — had kept for us, I took out the 700 Kč we had agreed upon. Jarda was leaning back against the bench with his hand on my knee. He shook his head no and just took the 500 Kč note, giving me back the 200.

“Proč?” I asked him. He just repeated, “Ne, ne, ty ne maš penize.”

No, no. You don’t have any money.

I tried several times to get him to take the money until finally he agreed to take it but only if I let him use it to buy the three of us drinks for the rest of the night. [I am not making this shit up.] I said okay and he jumped up to buy us the first of many rounds of Fernet shots.

A couple nights later I fucked Joseph in the same cabin. Earlier in the week I’d fucked a very fucked-up Pavel who was impatient with my soft dick — sorry, Pavel, but 15 beers don’t really enhance my blood flow — and kept yelling for me to “Go! Go! Fuck me!”

It was far more funny than erotic. He doesn’t remember my fucking him at all, which is just as well, since he had a little trouble with bowel control at the time.

Two days ago I didn’t fuck Jarda, even though I had originally planned on it, because a half hour earlier I had fucked George silly, in lots of fantasy positions I’d had stored up for when he was ready to actually have fun with me, which apparently he was this particular night, coming twice and staying hard the whole time. It’s amazing what the inability to get drugs will do for one’s libido.

The change in Jarda’s body was amazing. Whereas the first time I’d had sex with him he was bony and fragile-feeling, now he was big and solid, like an American high school offensive lineman. He’s a got a bit of belly but that just makes him sexier to me. His shoulders are hard and fun to squeeze and he’s still got the Grim Reaper on his forearm. When we got to bed I was tired after the session with George so I told Jarda maybe some small biznis, not fucking. He just shrugged and said, no problem. I really just wanted to feel him all over.

I was so happy to see him and happy that he had gotten his health back. He wasn’t interested in kissing me, however; in fact, he kept turning his head away when I tried. This was a change from our previous encounter, where he couldn’t dig deep enough with his tongue. Earlier at the kavarna, while we were negotiating, he had told me he would have to get drunk to have sex with me — originally, he went looking for me at the station in order for me to get him biznis, not give him biznis. So maybe he wasn’t drunk enough.

Still, lying side by side together on the bed, he began grinding his crotch up against me and rubbing my head with one hand and pulling me into him with the other. I could tell he was getting excited, because, other than his dick’s responding, of course, he was handling me more firmly, getting rougher and rougher, his breathing getting quicker and deeper. He’d buzzed his head earlier in the day and rubbed his stubble against my own suedehead and around my chest and nipples. He was both playful and butch and it was getting me going, especially when he hiked his leg over my hip and tried to put his dick between my legs.

We ended up just jackin’ each other off. He went off first. It was cute, as he was really getting into jackin’ himself, he took my hand and put it under his balls, guiding one of my fingers to dig a little into his asshole. But I wanted to make him come and replaced his hand with my hand and started masturbating him. A couple seconds before he came, he threw his head back on the pillow, uttered some guttural sex noises and raised both his legs in the air. My finger slipped all the way in and he shot. And shot. My hand movements resulted in his cum being sprayed all over both of us.

It took a bit for me to come, and I never really got fully hard again, despite how turned on I felt. I wanted him to spend the night but he said he was going to try to find some more biznis with a Czech man, one of his old regulars. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him until I felt a little tug when he left, slapping me on the shoulder and saying Ciao! but not looking me in the eyes.

Out on the street, he looked both ways like he was looking for something. I closed and locked the door.

If you’ve spent any time in Prague’s main railway station you’ve probably been offered any number of things from sex to crack to free daily newspapers that in the station were somehow no longer free. But probably the one thing that’s pushed the most consistently, the most annoyingly, is those damn hodinky, or cheap-ass watches, as they’re known in English.

Hodinky are hawked all over Hlavní nádraží by gypsies, or Romany. Often, they’ll walk up to you with hooded eyes – looking very serious – glance around quickly to see if there are any cops watching, and then slowly open the little box in their hands to show you what they’ve got. It’s a shiny thing, usually, metallic and there’s usually two of them – a smaller one for a woman, a larger one for a man. While it is technically illegal to sell stuff in the station without a permit, and every once in awhile you’ll see a Czech cop harass a gypsy seller, the watches, as far as I know, aren’t hot. It’s just an act to make you think you’re getting a really good watch for a really good price. The brand name is usually “Geneva” and the little second hand on the face, along with all the other doodads, is painted on. Nothing is real. It’s amazing how long it takes someone to figure this out. So. They’re crappy but they’re not stolen. Sort of takes the fun out of it, doesn’t it?

Although many of the watch sellers are fat, older men and short, fat women of varying ages, I have huge crushes on some of the young hodinky boys, who tend to be tall and skinny and fairly well-dressed. I have had boys ask them if they wanted biznis but none of them had said yes, yet. Perhaps they make enough selling watches, or other stuff. One in particular has stood out from the rest, perhaps because he’s not tall, not skinny and not well-dressed. He’s sort of trashy, not particularly cute, is quite short and almost always wears tight nylon sweatpants. This is how I knew he had a nice butt. I’m not sure how I knew he might be interested in biznis. Maybe it was because of all the hodinky boys he was the only one who ever returned my looks, returned my looks with slightly crossed eyes and a roguish grin, making him even more attractive to me.

Last May Milan and I were holding court in the Fantova Kavarna, as we had all that week. The client we were waiting for was late and we were just killing time when this particular short, trashy hodinky boy sauntered by looking for a gullible buyer for his watches. Milan always liked to take the piss out of, well, anyone he thought he could take the piss out of; so, when the boy walked up and opened up his watch-box Milan asked him to sit down, smiling his tiger-smile. They argued price back and forth in Czech for awhile, the hodinky boy smiling the whole time and occasionally shooting amused glances at me. Finally, Milan said they had agreed on a price of 200 Kč, and asked me if I could buy one for him. I handed over the cash to the happy hodinky boy while Milan laughed and said, “It’s funny the first price was 1000 Kč and now he take 200!”

I wasn’t through with h-boy and he didn’t look like he was ready to leave. There was something in the way he was looking at Milan… So I asked Milan to talk him into doing biznis with me. Milan was skeptical: “I don’t think he do it.”

“I think he will.”

Milan was such a know-it-all that half the fun of getting this boy would be to prove him wrong. So there proceeded another little negotiation.

Milan turned to me and said, “He says yes, he thinks so, but wants to know how much.”

“Tell him 500 Kč. We’ll go to Sauna Babylonia and he can stay there as long as he wants, and maybe he gets more biznis.”

“Okay.” Then something occurred to Milan and he smiled, again, his I’m-going-to-eat-you smile and said, “Wait, I have idea.”

Another heated exchange in Czech began — lots of fast talking and abrupt stops and staccato replies — although the h-boy never stopped smiling. During the discussion he did utter several interjections, a characteristic cluck, or something between that and a tsk, with a small amount of lip-smacking. I’d heard many Slovaks use this sound to express incredulity, usually during just such a negotiation, but I’d never heard one do it quite so camp. That’s when I suspected he was queer.

Eventually, Milan laughed and told me that he’d got us a deal where I would pay 600 Kč and the h-boy would give us two more watches. For free. I’d never heard of such a crazy sex deal before but given the weird shit Milan and I had gotten into the short time we were together, I shouldn’t have been that surprised. Milan was laughing so hard I thought he’d choke on his Budvar. I eventually learned what the h-boy was up to, and why he gave into Milan’s request relatively quickly,  but not until we got to the sauna.

Sauna Babylon is located in back of an old church near Narodní Třida. You have to buzz to get in. I was worried at the time whether I could get two gypsies, one obviously a station boy, into the place and past the snooty guy who passes out towels. Actually, calling someone who works at a gay establishment in Prague “snooty” is redundant. Let’s just say he was a typical Czech fag.

One of the things you always have to worry about with the station boys is the smell of their feet. Back in those days, still on the streets, my aroma would not be mistaken for Hugo Boss either. It occurred to me as the three of us were getting undressed that it might be too much for the non-homeless folks who might be undressing around us. Luckily, the changing area was deserted and a good thing, too, because although Milan and I smelled tolerable, Jožo, the hodinky boy, reeked.

Ah, well, although I was embarrassed I figured the best way to get over it would be to get us all into the shower as quickly as possible. But the smell apparently lingered: Eventually, big, burly guy with a shaved head came into the showers and yelled at us in belligerent Czech. The boys looked cowed so I asked Milan what he had said. “To shower before we come to the sauna.” More embarrassment and some anger. My feeling, as always, when it comes to getting shit from middle-class Czechs about the scuzziness of the company I keep and bring to their crappy little businesses is: Do you want my money or not? This guy had just received almost 1000 Kč of my money already and was, I’m sure, prepared to take more; now he was yelling at me while I’m taking a shower — he was fully clothed, I might add — about how bad mine and my companions’ feet stink, in front of a couple other guys in the shower room with us. I will never, ever understand these fucking Czechs. Milan was pissed off, too, but said nothing. Jožo seemed bemused but still had his characteristic sly smile on his face.

We decided to calm down by having a beer at the bar in front. Sitting in a semi-circle, naked except for white towels around our waists and upper thighs, I noticed that Jožo couldn’t keep his eyes off Milan and was leaning forward with his hands in lap.

He couldn’t hide it though. Milan saw it first.

“Look at that! He is horny for me!” Milan said, laughing.

Jožo’s dick was slowly pushing the white towel away from his crotch. He smiled. blinking rapidly, and asked Milan something in Czech. Milan laughed again and told me that Jožo wanted to know if the three of us were going to have sex or if it was just going to be me and Jožo. I actually hadn’t considered the possibility, thinking that I couldn’t afford both of them. Also I hadn’t thought that Milan would be interested. I couldn’t blame Jožo, though: Milan’s dark brown skin, thick, hairy legs and forearms, and little belly was getting to me, too. I wanted him as well. Milan and I hadn’t had sex since we’d met, except for sucking him off a couple times. Jožo himself had a cute enough body: skinny but with some visible biceps and a slightly defined chest. He was hairier even than Milan was on his chest and legs. The main characteristic that detracted from his physical appearance was his tendency to slump. Or maybe he was always trying to hide his boner.

I told Milan to ask Jožo what he wanted. Some more negotiations in Czech.

“He is so horny for me!”

This was really tickling Milan, I could tell.

“He say only 100 more for us three.” Fair enough. “And we still have watches.”

Milan leaned back and laughed.

I didn’t really want to waste any more time since looking at Jožo’s bulge and Milan’s body had gotten me pretty horny as well. So after buying a little tube of lube we headed downstairs to the cabins to see what would happen. What happened is that, as soon as the door was closed, the little hodinky boy tugged Milan’s towel off, pushed him back onto the vinyl bench and closed his mouth over Milan’s dick, already hard. They started without me! And wow, did that boy go after that cock. Hungry, hungry. He was still standing, bent over Milan, who was stretched out on the bench, propped up on his elbows, laughing, of course, and repeating, “This boy very horny!”

Jožo’s butt — practically pelted, far hairier than Milan’s — was facing me and I intended to take advantage of it. We’d talked earlier in the kavarna about what I wanted to do and I’d told Jožo I wanted to fuck him. He’d just shrugged at the time and had said, no problem. And it wasn’t. I just lubed up and slipped it in. He didn’t make a sound, just kept lapping Milan’s dick while I did my best to make him feel me inside him. The kick was the fantasy of using this younger, trashy boy together with Milan, to not care about what he wanted and just focus on what Milan and I wanted. It had me seriously turned on. Plowing away, I bent over the hodinky boy’s small back and tried to make out with Milan. He looked startled though and wouldn’t have it.

“I don’t do that,” he said, not like an asshole, just decisively.

“Okay, okay,” I said, and bit Jožo’s neck instead.

A minute or so later, just as I got a good rhythm up — I had both hands on Jožo’s slim waist and was pulling him all the way onto me — Milan started to get up.

“Where are you going?” I asked, a little pissed.

“I come,” he said, his hand on his dick, which was now only half hard.

“You came already?” I asked, unbelieving. We hadn’t even been at it for more than five minutes, it seemed.

“Yes, yes, and I come in his mouth, too.”

Here he laughed. “He just take it out,” Milan mimed spitting, “and go on sucking.”

How’d I miss that part?

Jožo raised himself up, grinning and I put my arm around him, still inside him.

“Ty sperma?”

With the little, slightly toothy grin that never seemed to leave his mouth, he nodded yes. I looked down, though, and he was still hard. He must have meant, he wanted to come. I looked at Milan, gestured ’shoo’ with one hand and said, “Okay, get out of here so I can fuck him.”

It was funny how fast Milan obeyed. He was not usually so compliant. I had to pull out of the hodinky boy to let Milan past me and open the door. When he was gone I quickly turned Jožo around, pushed him up on the benches and stuck my dick back in again. I was really in the mood to use this boy and made no allowances for his comfort. Since he was still hard and completely willing, I couldn’t see why not.

He was on his knees on the bench, one of my knees was on the bench as well and the other leg was on the floor. I pounded him. A couple times I pulled his one hip up so I could get in deeper, mostly a sadistic impulse, and eventually he was pulling away from me toward the corner, squealing — yes, squealing — in discomfort. A little disgusted with him, I let him go, slapping one butt cheek, hard, as I did. But I was determined someone was gonna get off while getting fucked even if it wasn’t him.

He was still hard, I was still hard, so I climbed up on the bench, pulled him after me, grabbed his dick from between my legs and guided him into me. Everything about this sex session happened so quickly and easily that it felt just like a porn story out of Straight to Hell, Boyd MacDonald’s old “real sex” chapbook, or something.

I mean, I actually heard and felt the pop when his dick pushed past my sphincter. He was about the same length as me, maybe a little thicker, perfect for someone who’s mostly a top to get fucked with. He wasn’t as aggressive as I wanted him to be; I wanted him to take me like I took him. The fantasy was a revenge fuck, I guess, in my mind. He just wasn’t doin’ it, though, although he did slap my ass a bit timidly a couple times.

As is usual when something’s up my ass, I came pretty quickly and as usual when I’m getting fucked, I felt like I was being ripped out of myself. The orgasm is completely different, as bottoms know, of course. It was a nice quick fuck, too nice to be honest, but I was tired of this kid by then and just got up, wiped off with the provided paper towels and left the cabin. I didn’t even let him come and didn’t much care if he did or not.

Milan and I left him in the sauna and went off to get something to eat and to figure out where we were going to sleep that night. We found out the next day from Jožo that he didn’t leave until they closed the place, having sex several times, sucking a lot of cock and even getting some biznis from some skinny, old Chinese guy. It was actually quite cool that this closeted, somewhat homely, gay gypsy kid, who probably never, or rarely, got any sex on his own, got to go to an expensive white establishment and fuck himself silly. Very cool, actually.

Although he says hello to me when I see him in the station, and he sometimes asks me for biznis, I never have had him again. I think I rode that particular ride as far as I could.

And the watches? I gave one away to a station boy and the other one stopped working after less than a week.