A Cup of Kindness

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New Years never fails to fill me with gratitude to the world and all its wonders. Maybe because of that a bit of New Years kismet had alighted itself upon me. A bit of fateful thanks back from the universe in the form of that wonderful incredible event.

The evening started out normal enough. Stuck in the ballroom of a Russian restaurant in the city, I watched as all the old Russians stormed the dancefloor to endless Russian/Soviet pop hits. While the restaurant advertised itself as Russian, it was run by Uzbeks and Kazakhs mainly. Didn’t stop them from having the best Russian food for miles around so the community of people I knew – a somewhat tight knit network of friends, family friends, friends of family friends and so on would congregate at the restaurant for New Years. It certainly didn’t hurt that the proprietors of the restaurant had specifically selected a building with a wide-open space, knowing that the community couldn’t resist Russian karaoke anymore than a cat would ignore catnip.

Growing up Russian, New Years was a special time. I always told my American friends it was like Christmas for us. I don’t think I was wrong. We would decorate the New Years tree (also a pine tree), Grandfather Frost (Santa) and his granddaughter the Snow Princess (Mrs. Claus) would hand out gifts from a sleigh with reindeer (non-flying). And of course; no Russian would turn down an excuse to party and drink anymore than an American would. The New Years parties I went to were always banging, American or Russian. This one was no different, though I couldn’t foresee the unexpected turn it took later.

I readily conversed with family friends and older relatives in Russian at the party. I was born in the US, but my family always spoke Russian around me so I gained a natural understanding of the language. I also could read rather fluently. Which delighted my grandmother. She would recommend fairytales and later novels that we would read together. Alas, my luck ran out with writing – despite the best efforts of my mother, my grammar and even handwriting were atrocious. Rarely better than unreadable. But my language skills did earn me some street cred with the extended community.

For better or worse, I was with that extended community at the New Years party hanging out. We were a varied bunch with little brothers and sisters running around and the oldest kids now starting families of their own. I tended to stick with people my own age. Now all about in our late twenties, we had drifted in and out of each other’s lives over time. But we had made fast friends regardless and we usually met up a few times throughout the year. Though New Years was honestly the highlight in my mind.

There was something about Novy God that spoke to me. (Novy God is New Years in Russian transliteration – if you wanted to sound it out, I always told people it’s not said like God but like “Guh-oh-d”), Novy God had a spirit that Christmas couldn’t match in my mind; a mushy yet nostalgic, boundless and cheeky energy fret with possibility. Garnished with memories of the past too – the cocktail of potential futures and set pasts swirled together on that special night. I always looked forward to Novy God.

Also because New Years meant I would get to spend some real quality time with an old forbidden male crush – Sasha.

We hung out casually a few times each year since our families were tight friends. He always looked amazing. Clothes simply draped onto him in a delicious manner. Even with a regular tank top, it looked like the straps were massaging his shoulders, always in place to show off those beautiful arms. His board shorts would plunge down his lithe thighs. Cutting off right above the knee in a way that emphasized just how well he filled those shorts out. Despite the shorts being quite loose he still sported an impressive package, flashes of long dick and hefty balls visible at times. I caught myself making furtive glances at that tantalizing bulge whenever I thought no one was looking.

I also couldn’t deny he was a hell of a twink – just the type I could see myself going foolish over. There was no denying he had some rather feminine features. Not enough to be androgynous but definitely a lot prettier than the average guy.

He had light blue eyes and a sharp chin framed cute thin lips. Surprisingly, his thin frame housed a steely body, honed by years of working out. He was graced with fine, supple hands. While he didn’t have the abs I did, his smooth, tight chest and flat stomach were madly attractive. A messy flop of short cut hair topped his head. I wanted to lose myself in that mess of hair badly. Even down below he was blessed with strong, able thighs and a cute little pert ass.I was barely able to hide my lust, imagining how it would be to put my head between those thighs. I longed to take all of him but I held myself back.

I hadn’t really done more than consider being with a guy. Sasha predominated my thoughts, but there were other guys I crushed ankara travesti on as well. Still I had resigned myself to leave those homosexual desires as a fantasy. Besides, I told myself, I still was mostly interested in women. Even the guys I tended to like when I scrouged up the urge to look up some gay porn were twinks. Or at least guys that seemed to have a sort of soft, feminine curve to their features.

I didn’t quite deny my feelings but I also didn’t really try to explore them that often. Except for when something set off those feelings – some horniness or longingness triggered by a look, a thought, a chaste touch.

On those nights; I allowed myself to indulge in a recurring fantasy. I would act out of habit, every step intimately known to me through years of repetition and aspiration. Getting myself ready, I would lock the door and draw the curtains. I stripped naked, invaribly starting off standing and mastubating. Lightly gripping my cock as I imagined a man doing the same thing before my eyes. We would mutually admire each other’s hardening dicks.

I wanted to savor the feeling and take my time. As one hand gently teased my cock, I drew my other hand across my hot body. I would massage my chest, stomach, shoulders. I leaked pre-cum and fantasized that my mystery man was groping me. Exploring me with an erotic touch. Once I was sufficiently hard and straining, I would scoot over to the bed.

When I was indulging myself I would make do with what I had. Embarrassingly, when I was just starting to discover what sex was as a horny 18 year old, I would hump the bed and squeeze myself in a blanket; using the close-fitting feeling to imagine that it was my lover wrapped around me – his snug embrace driving me wild with passion. I would writhe and thrust to show him how much I cherished him, how beautiful we were together. As I got older and learned more, I subsituted in a few sex toys. Even worked up to penetrating myself with a thick, six-inch realistic dildo – ass up, face down, plunging it back and forth in my lubed asshole. With some work, I would even be able to kind of corkscrew the dildo in my butt, rubbing the ridges as I played with it. But plastic was not exactly the same as a pulsating, squirming, rock-hard dick.

My burning attraction to Sasha grew as we aged over the years. Sasha had charmed people with his natural, almost careless beauty. He had sprezzatura in spades. Maybe it was that effortness, nonplussed demeanor that gave him a sort of stylish cool I so envied and loved. He absolutely knew how to use his charms too; his puppy dog eyes and devil-may-care attitude getting him out of trouble more than a few times when we hung out. Since I didn’t permit myself to make a move, I simply locked away the side of me that pined for something to happen. But on New Years that lock would hang looser and more open than the rest of the year.

I observed as Sasha danced with one of our mutual friends. For this New Years, he was more stunning than ever. Outfitted in deep ruby captoe boots, they provided an interesting contrast against his long soft red chinos. Lascivious thoughts spread in my head as I noted how closely they hugged his slender waist. Under a tasteful modern bomber jacket he wore a printed dress shirt. The shirt was festooned with a geometric print. Lines darted every which way on his body, a few daringly pointing down to his crotch. The shirt was unbuttoned for the most part, giving the impression of a somewhat plunging v-neckline and showing off a smooth bare chest. His purple-rimmed sunglasses hanging saucily down his pert nose and messy crop of floppy short brown hair underlined just how hot he was.

I wasn’t much of a dancer, so after joining in on the circle dancing with all the old Russian aunties, I excused myself. Flopping in a chair, I watched the people on the dancefloor. Sasha was in his element there in that mass of dancing bodies. Thriving with calculated, near-professional steps, he would attract a mass of delighted fangirls, from kids to older ladies. Another point that worked in his favor was how courteous he was with everyone on the dancefloor. With a natural instinct in how he handled his partners, chastely but affectionate, most people couldn’t get enough of him.

Our eyes met. He gave me a dazzling smile. Could’ve sworn I was the only person in the room the way that smile was directed towards me; though I knew he knew how enticing it was. The damn smile worked its magic on guys and girls alike; few could resist its charms. We weren’t much closer than mutual acquaintances but I would avidly follow his social media and teasingly pry Sasha for info about his escapades when we met. He was much more adventurous than I ever was. I enjoyed listening to his play by play of various capers.

The one that stood out to me the most was the time Sasha told me about getting out of a hefty ticket. Apparently he and an old flame were driving out late in the sticks, coming down off of a high from ankara travestileri some weed they had smoked at a party. Given this was deep in the night, his girl had nodded off to sleep. She was curled up next to him in the passenger seat. As he told it, they were taking the back-roads to avoid any awkward questions as some DUI checkpoints had been set up in the city. For whatever reason on that night they got unlucky.

As Sasha put it, his heart was beating a mile a minute when he saw those flashing police lights. Pulling over to the side by a dark field, he nervously tapped the wheel as the dim form of a young male cop advanced in his rearview mirror. Still rather high, he decided to let his girl keep sleeping – no need to have two people freaking out rather than just me, he reasoned. The cop got to his car door and motioned for Sasha to roll down the window. Sasha complied with the biggest, widest Cheshire cat grin he could muster. Sasha loved to play things by ear and go with the flow. He was at his best when he could summon up enough charisma to shape people’s options in his favor.

Luckily, Sasha’s extravagant grin had the effect on the cop that he was hoping for. And when he retold the story, he always tried to give a recreation of that damn grin. I don’t know how other people reacted, but I was always blown away by it – so wide and inviting. Apparently the cop felt similar. According to Sasha, the cop’s eyes widened and he sort of pursed his lips. The flashlight illuminated Sasha’s pearly whites and lingered for a second longer than usual. The cop then passed his light over the sleeping girl next to Sasha.

“Do you know why I pulled you over today, sir?” The cop asked in a gruff tone.

“Uh – no clue, officer, what can I do for you?” Sasha did his best to sound not so nervous, despite the anxiety causing his body to tremble.

“I was going to give you a citation for speeding. However I’m detecting a distinct smell. Have you and your partner been using weed tonight?”

Sasha gave a high-pitched laugh, trying to play it off. “Oh no, officer. No, my girl had a bit too much to drink and so she kinda (here he mimicked retching) – she almost made it but unfortunately a lot got on the side. I cleaned up enough that it wouldn’t touch her but I decided it was more important to get her home first. Sorry about the smell.”

The cop was unimpressed. “Please step out of the car sir.” Sasha did just that. Standing before the cop, he waited a little, noticing the officer looking him up and down with an odd scowl. The cop directed him to spread his arms and legs, then started patting him down. The cop stepped in close to him.

The cop was about a head taller than Sasha, so he would lean in closely as the physical examination continued. It was clear this was a more than routine exam, as the cop sort of started to rub the inside of his thighs and upper body. The cop rose back up, breathing shallow and half-biting his lip. That’s when Sasha knew he had hooked him; so he decided to push for the sinker.

Sasha took a cautious step towards the cop. “Uh – officer? I’m wondering – I’d rather not get a ticket, so I’m thinking instead of you giving me a ticket; I can give you something instead. Sounds like a deal?” The cop took a big gulp and nodded, intently starting at Sasha. Sasha smiled as wide as he could again, trying to disarm (not literally) the cop’s defenses.

He wrapped his arms around the cop’s stone-still body, placing his head at the cop’s chest. Murmuring with appreciation, he slid down to his knees, cupping the cop’s butt and giving a tight squeeze. He used his lips to trace the outline of the cop’s rapidly hardening cock in his pants. Looking back up at the cop, Sasha saw that his eyes were half-hooded with pleasure. The cop was staring ahead, half-heartedly trying to hold the flashlight up towards the girl Sasha was with to check that she wasn’t going to wake up.

The cop started thrusting at his face, small little gasps escaping as his jeans made contact with Sasha’s mouth. As Sasha told me, he was too scared of the cop’s gun to go further and the cop didn’t do anything else to indicate he wanted more. After a few moments, the cop stopped, looked at Sasha on his knees, and bent over to give him a kiss on the lips. The cop was holding Sasha’s chin with his hand so Sasha told me he simply let the cop slobber over his mouth due to the fear of what would happen if he pulled away. The cop kissed him for about 10 seconds, then got up and drove away without another word.

Sasha claimed that he wasn’t really affected by the experience. Like it was just another crazy story to add to his repertoire. Something to brag about. An interesting story to fascinate peopl By the warm smile and flushed cheeks Sasha had as he retold the story, especially how he would get flustered and stammer talking about how the cop kissed him; I doubted his strident declarations that he didn’t really care about what happened.

But that travesti ankara was Sasha. One of the things I truly loved most about him was the way that he could handle any situation without making dumb, awkward mistakes like I did. He had a natural ease of manner that paired with an intense curiosity usually meant that he would win over any stranger. I, to say the least, was extremely uncomfortable with more than basic chit chat. But it was fascinating to watch him converse with others. The way that he could hone in and dig on an interesting nugget was stunning. I learned a lot just by listening in on him and trying to play along when I could.

I wondered in the back of my mind why Sasha would hang out with me; an easily embarrassed, tall dude that preferred speaking less and doing more. I had gotten into rock climbing a few years back and I loved playing soccer, so my large body had filled out nicely with muscles. I also maintained an overall ok diet; so even if I didn’t like talking, my fit, lean body would get me some attention anyways. My built frame was fun to throw around and I loved tackling new physical challenges even if I didn’t pursue any serious sports careers. Outside of athletics, I tended towards the solitary, usually reading or watching tv which didn’t exactly endear me to anyone. Though I had made a few close friends through those activities; I wasn’t exactly romantically successful despite trying hard to make something happen.

Shaking myself to distract from those stupid thoughts, I realized Sasha was gone. I couldn’t pick out his face in that happy throng of people which was unusual. Normally he’d be right in the thick of things. Dancing with the aunties, drinking with the old men, entertaining the kids. But with him gone it was like leaving a puzzle unfinished. Like you had left a big hole so that even though you could see the picture, it wasn’t complete.

Excusing myself by saying I had to go to the bathroom, I got up and searched for him. Roaming the festive crush of people, I couldn’t quite share in their joy. I spent New Years without Sasha before. But it was never better than when I was with him. By following his lead, I felt confident and secure instead of shy and anxious.

Through some stroke of New Years luck I managed to find him after a few minutes of urgent searching. He had slipped into the kitchen unnoticed. The meals had been served already. As far as I knew the workers were out partying with everyone else, the boss allowing them a bit of a New Years break for their hard work.

I did find it a little odd that Sasha the social butterfly was a bit alone. I got that sometimes we all took a moment for ourselves. I could respect that feeling. But I also wanted to make sure he was ok. I cautiously opened the kitchen door and stepped in.

Before anything else, I made sure to carefully close the door so no one (including Sasha) was alerted. I peered at him shyly. What I saw shocked me.

Sasha was trembling fiercely, taking deep gulps of air. My heart broke for him. The cool, nonchalant image I had of him didn’t shatter, but it was filled in with a new understanding – he was just as anxious and shy as I was; he just hid it way better than anyone would know. I felt privileged to see this display. I knew first-hand just how much time Sasha had invested into presenting a certain front.

Awkwardly clearing my throat, I asked Sasha if he was alright. I wasn’t sure if he was ready to share this more sensitive side with me. The poor boy might’ve jumped out of his bones if he could. Demurring with an embarrassed look, he quietly stuttered that he was fine.

My heart beat a mile a minute. I couldn’t just let this go. Especially when I was so intimately aware of just how not fine he probably was – I had issued those same pitiful denials before as well in other places to other people. It hurt to expose my own vulnerabilities, but keeping those fears and anxiety bottled up hurt more.

I took a cautious step towards him. I usually found myself being too blunt, using the wrong words or phrases so I tended to shy away from pep talks. But I had to try – I needed to try. For Sasha.

I poured my heart out to him. Earnestly explained how much I looked up to him. How I liked the easygoing way he could talk to others. How I could emphasize with the crushing pressure of anxiety. And how he could always count on me to share the burden.

Swept up in my one man mission to make Sasha feel better, I didn’t realize until I stopped talking that I ended up advancing on him pretty close. I decided to go for broke and hug him. Sasha knew that I wasn’t really a hugger – I rarely even embraced my own family. But this was too important. I couldn’t think of a better way to put a fine point and show him I could back up my tough talk.

Sasha chuckled as I hugged him. The shock of me doing something so drastic affected him to the core. I could feel his belly laugh echo against me. I made a move to release him, but he shook his head and said to look at him.

I was a bit puzzled, but did as he said. A sly smile was creeping across his face. Gazing into his eyes, I marveled at how they twinkled with mirth. Our breathing got slower, shallower.

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