Weekend in Kyiv

Chapter Four; And so to bed

This was the final straw. As the bathroom door closed behind me a surge of blood rushed into my fast-stiffening semi. Oh boy, you've really done it now! I thought as I stripped off my shirt and jeans, freeing the beast that now threatened to burst out of my boxers. Kicking them to the floor, I climbed into the bath and switched on the water. Like all Ukrainian bathrooms, there was no shower curtain, and I could see my less than perfect body in the mirror. What a contrasy to that gorgeous piece of manhood currently preparing to welcome me into his bed! By now, my 7½ inches was standing firmly to attention. Thoughtfully I gave it a couple of tentative strokes with my left hand as my right ensured the flow of water from the handheld showerhead reached every part of my weary body. A swift bit of hand action might reduce the chance of embarrassment later. I put the shower head down and poured myself a generous handful of shower gel, rubbing it to a lather ,starting from with my hair then working down over my chest and stomach before concentrating on the family jewels. In my mind, I imagined what it would feel like if the fingers doing the walking were attatched to those strong tanned arms across the hallway. Sighing gently, I increased the rhythm on my aching meat and was soon directing a generous jet of manjuice towards the plughole - no point making more mess than necessary! Quickly, I picked up the showerhead and rinsed myself thoroughly from head to toe as my member rapidly resumed the at ease position, checking all incriminating evidence had gone before grabbing my towel and starting to dry off.
Not a moment too soon. "Hello Andy, everything okay with you?" Sascha's head peared round the crack in the door - obviously I'd forgotten to bolt it!

Hastily, I wrapped the towel round my waist and stepped out of the shower. "Yeah, great, thanks - I feel much better for that." In more ways than one, I smiled to myself.

"That's good," said Sascha, opening the door wide and stepping into gap wearing only a pair of pristine white, skin-tight boxer shorts. Swallowing hard, I couldn't help noticing the shapely bulge which was putting just enough strian on the buttons to engage my inquisitive mind. "Genuine Calvin Klein, " Sascha grinned, following my gaze. "Nice, no?"

"Very nice, " I breathed, hastily redirecting my gaze to my toilet bag and concentrating on rummaging for my toothbrush before my manhood started begging for more exercise, my approval owing less to the cut of the cloth than its contents.

"Excuse me." Sascha put his hand on my shoulder and eased past me, his bare chest brushing against my bare back - and was I mistaken or was that the neat little package in his Calvins rubbing against the back of my towel? "I need to pee - you not mind?"

"Sure, go ahead," I muttered, brushing my teeth more vigourously, as out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed the enticing outline of his nicely rounded Calvin-clad rear tensing, then relaxing as I heard flow begin. Quickly, I rinsed my mouth, spat and edged my way to the door, grabbing my pile of clothes as I went. "See you in a minute, " I called as I closed the door behind me, pausing to catch my breath. Boy this is not going to be as easy as I thought!

I went through to the living room, dropped my stuff on the chair and quickly pulled on my boxers and t-shirt. I was just pulling on my jeans when Sascha re-entered the room, still clad only in those cute shorts. "Oh, you not going to bed yet?" he asked.

"Just thought I'd get a breath of air" I said and slipped out through the balcony door. Maybe, all things considered, it would be safest to keep my jeans on tonight, I thought. a bit warm, but, hey, Ukrainians expect us Brits to be a bit crazy!

"Don't be long!" Sascha called from the bedroom. "I'm waiting for you!"

Don't I know it, I thought. Oh well, take a couple of deep breaths, and think about cricket - nothing to get excited about there!

After a couple of minutes, I felt sufficiently in control to head back inside. Except for a small lamp beside the bed, the room was in darkness, but I could see Sascha's bronzed head and shoulders profiled against the the pillow nearest the wall. Two white linen duvets had replaced the throws.

"That's good, " he smiled, "Please, make yourself at home." He folded back the duvet on my side of the bed, and patted the puillow invitingly. "Oh, one thing," A hint of hesitation entered his voice, "I not wear anything in bed." In case I was in any doubt, he lifted the side of his duvet, revealing a quick glimpse of shadowy flesh beneath, then let it fall back into place. "If it bother you, I can put on shorts."

Before I could think, I blurted out "Oh no, that's fine. I never wear anything in bed either."

Immediately, I remembered my resolve to preserve my modesty at all costs. What had I done? Too late now though; the words were out and now I'd have to match them with actions. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled off my t-shirt, then undid my jeans and quickly slid them and my boxers to the floor. Despite my efforts of a few minutes earlier, I could feel a faint tingling returning to my nether regions. Hastily, I pulled the duvet over myself, swung my legs round and lay down beside the ever-smiling Sascha.

"Mmm, coconut!" he said, leaning towards me and sniffing appreciatively.

"Very good" I smiled, hoping my nervousness didn't show in my voice. "You have a very good nose."

Sascha laughed. "Oh, my English friend, you are so funny - you make me very happy."

As he said that, Sascha leaned across and reached for the lamp, his left armpit inches from my face. A rather more masculine smell than coconut reached my nostrils - far from unpleasant though. The light went out, plunging the room into almost total darkness, just the faint glow of the balcony window casting light shadows across the room.

"Good night, Sascha," I mumbled, instinctively rolling onto my side, my back to my companion (though with the heavy Russian duvet it would be a pretty monstrous erection that was visible in this light!) Incredibly, as I turned, I felt Sascha wriggling up closer to me and then his arm slid under my duvet and wrapped gently round my chest, his silky hair brushing the back of my neck as he snuggled deeper into the pillow. Every hair on my body stood on end and I felt sure he must feel my heart beating hard and fast against his hand.

"Good night, moy droog," he muttered, his breath warm against my bare shoulder. "My English friend."