In Part 1, Peter made the acquaintance of a European stranger at the Boston Eagle club. He overcame his reservations and left the bar with him, although he had not felt entirely in control of his faculties or movements.
My head whirred with strange images — flying objects circled the candles to my right and left, making the flames flicker and almost die out. There seemed to be a gray gauze over my face making it hard to see. I could hear symphonic music — an organ playing but there was no organ to be seen. When I looked down at my body, I was naked, although I had no memory of removing my clothing. My body was hairy; my 6-inch cock rose in a semi-erection.
I should have felt a measure of fear, but this experience reminded me of an acid trip, an immersion into a strange reality.
In front of me, Aleksandr had removed his cloak. He lifted both hands, palms up, and I felt myself rise upward a few feet in the air. I was suspended, but in no way panicky. I had opened myself up to this and I accepted that it would play out.
I looked down at my crotch and felt Aleksandr’s hand wrapped around my penis. I began to get hard. My ascent put him at eye level with my crotch. He concentrated on manipulating my hardening cock with his long fingers.
“It is beautiful,” he finally said, after closely inspecting me. As he ran his finger around the helmet cap, he said, “It is different from those in my country. There is no skin covering the head. The tip stands proudly free.”
He moved his lips onto my cock and embraced the head. His mouth felt cold — almost as if he had an ice cube in his mouth. He began to suck on just the head as he made noises savoring me. As I felt precum escape, he made oohing sounds. “You taste like ambrosia, and I am very hungry,” he said. His tongue brushed my shaft. It felt like no other tongue that has ever taken my cock. It seemed to have nubs or perhaps barbs of some kind that scratched the skin. His tongue felt as if it was tickling me while also causing pain. He was ravenous in his attention to my penis.
Then his ministrations changed. Suddenly, I felt his teeth scraping against the circumcised head. I was going to say, “watch the teeth” when I felt a sharp pain. His teeth had pierced the head of my cock as he pulled me by my ass cheeks closer to him.
He seemed like a wild animal with its teeth gnawing at its prey. He made a growling noise as he drew blood from my penis. I could actually smell my blood when he paused and opened his mouth. I could see his long incisors covered in red. At this I became frightened. I wondered how much blood he would drain. Would I die from losing too much? As he worked me for several minutes, I wondered if this tomb would become my own.
Then he stopped, and I was grateful.
Aleksandr stepped back and raised his hands again, but this time with palms down. I slowly began to move downward until my feet hit the ground.
His face looked different. Gone was the blue-gray pallor I had seen at the Eagle. His skin was pink and seemed to glow. The little blue veins were gone. His lips were no longer a gray shade, but a robust red. His dark eyes looked brighter. He had lost the mournful expression. He was smiling.
“Thank you so much, my dear Payt-her. I am very grateful. I know the customs in my land are different from yours. I make love differently from your kind. I hope there was some measure of enjoyment at my attention.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I merely nodded.
“I hope my teeth didn’t hurt you. I needed what I took from you. I am well again because of you.”
And then he surprised me. “Would you like to drink from me?” I would like to show you how it can be, far beyond what you are used to. He looked down at his crotch.
I felt myself becoming harder again as I looked at a prominent bulge he was showing in his black pants.
He noted my interest. It was his turn to ascend, far enough in the air that his crotch was at my face. I grabbed the back of his legs as he undid the buttons on his pants from another century. He pulled them open.
Inside I could see black pubic hair against his pale white skin. As he pulled down his pants, his penis sprang out and onto my face.
it was the perfect length and width — about 7 inches long and 5 inches around. It hung heavily above two large testicles. Aleksandr was not circumcised. I didn’t expect that he would be.
His cock was perfectly straight and sat in a thick bush of hair.
He was semi-hard as he pulled my face closer and I breathed him in. His crotch had a strong masculine odor. He smelled like ripened fruit, perhaps a hint of dried-out cheese. His entire crotch smelled a little like a summer cottage that had not been aired out. This smell would not be to everyone’s taste, but it turned me on. He pulled the foreskin back and slowly revealed the bulbous head of his penis. It was spearlike and reddish, and my nose was drawn to it. I wanted to smell what had been hidden by his foreskin.
I was not disappointed. I took in his scent and became completely erect as I moved closer.
“I bid you to use your tongue to satisfy me,” he commanded, his voice more insistent. “Open your lips and suckle me.”
Even if I didn’t want to, I felt my face move on its own toward his crotch and my lips open to allow entry. His penis pushed into my mouth. The fragrance I had smelled I was now tasting. A strong, powerful, musty perfume I had never experienced from the American men I had sampled.
“Suck, Pey-ter,” he commanded as I rode his penis with my lips, lapping at him, eager to please him. “Take all of me,” he ordered and pushed enough inside me that he reached my throat. “Take me in deeply. I have not had this pleasure in many years.”
I almost felt sorry for him such that I wanted him to enjoy every talent my mouth could give him. I rubbed my lips up and down his shaft, used my tongue to lather his pulled-back skin, let him take my throat. He exuded a strong liquid — not so much like precum — more like red wine.
After a few minutes, he said, “It is time for you to taste my essence. It contains some of your own.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, yet nodded as if I had a choice.
He pulled his penis from my mouth and gripped himself. He used the sharp nail of his thumb to make a slit in the head of his cock. about three-quarters of an inch in length. Blood oozed to the surface. “Drink me,” he ordered. “The blood is the life.”
I felt my lips pull forward as they surrounded his head. I tasted his blood.
I had this strange sensation that I needed to drink it to survive. I was like an anemic feeling the effects of a transfusion. I had never felt more satisfied or energized. I continued to suck this strange elixir until he pulled out of my mouth and his foreskin slid back and covered his penis.
When I blinked, the scene had changed dramatically. I was in my clothes again and he was wearing his black cloak.
“Thank you again, Payt-her, for what you have done for me.”
He took my arm and led me to the door, which sprang open without being touched.
“Will I see you again at that little tavern where we met?” he asked.
I nodded.
“That means we shall meet again?”
“Yes.”
In an eye blink, I was outside walking home in the cool breeze, the full moon looking down on me.
