written by CATHAL McCEALLACHAN for Christmas.TyRain.com
November 5, 2000
PART THREE
The story of Christian and Savvas continues
The following morning was crisp and cold. I walked up the Damrak towards the Central Station, where I was going to catch a tram to the Opera House to see some old friends. As I stood waiting, my thoughts wandered back to old days.
Once again my past came alive. It was shortly before Christmas and we were practicing for the performance of The Nutcracker. The wind was howling around the corners, snow was whipping down the streets and it was terribly cold. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon as I got onto the tram. I was wearing my big black Coach-mans Coat - which was very fashionable that particular year. I had my tog-bag hanging from my shoulder. The tram was crammed with people busy doing their Christmas shopping. There was no seat available and I stood squashed in amongst the silent and swaying bodies. At one of the stops, a young Soldier got on the tram.
Loudly, with a deep American accent, he said “Hi! Can anyone tell me if this is the right Trolley to catch to get to this unpronounceable street?” He held up a piece of paper, while snapping the bubble-gum he was chewing.
The attendant, an elderly lady took it from him. “Yes,” she said. “I will show you where to get off.”
“Dank u wel!” (Thank you very much) he said with a disarming personal smile, and turned to wiggle along the crowded aisle to seek out a standing place. “Leuke Jonge” (lovely boy), she said smilingly to no one in particular.
As the young guy went past me, our eyes met for a fleeting moment, sending and receiving many questions and answers. I began to think once again about the Ballet, being extremely nervous. I was going to dance the leading role for the first time. Suddenly, the Tram started with a jolt and we were all thrown together, trying desperately to keep our balance. Unexpectedly, I became aware of warm hands around my waist, under my coat, and a voice whispering, “Hi sexy!”
He had pushed his hands through the long slit at the back of my coat, and these hands were now stroking across my stomach. I tried to move away, but he held me closer to him, and to my utter horror, I could feel something hard pushing against me. “Relax!” he whispered.
I had never before been in such a situation and was at a total loss to what I should do. To my utter disbelief, my body started responding to his touch and I could feel a mighty explosion building up deep inside me. “Where are you going”, he whispered.
“To the Opera House”, I answered, while dealing with an aching hard-on. “I’m a Ballet dancer, and I have to practice for a performance of The Nutcracker.”
I felt the rapid breath from his nose in silent laughter, as he whispered, “I’d like to crack yours”. At that very moment I shot my load. Lucky for me the tram arrived at the Theater stop and I could jump off avoiding embarrassment. I was still totally rattled when I arrived in the dressing room.
Two days later, as I was sitting in my dressing room after that first performance, a junior came to the door and said there was a “Ryan Jennings” to see me. As I turned around, I went cold, because there stood my big, black, and very handsome American tormentor. With all smiles and with a big bunch of flowers thrust forward, he said with a wicked smile, “For you, white boy!”
“How did you find me”, I asked.
“Easy, my man, easy”, he replied. “First of all, I kicked up a real stink when they said there was not a single seat available. But they found one for me… because I told them I came all the way from Germany to see my great white friend dancing the lead in ‘The Nutcracker’. Seems they could not believe that a famous dancer could have such an ugly black friend. Anyway it helped, and here I am.” He snickered and asked, “Are you angry about the other day on the tram?”
“Not really, just a bit embarrassed,” I replied blushing like a virgin. “Thanks for the flowers.”
“So what are your plans for the night”, he asked.
I told him the cast was having a small party and then I was going home, to Nijmegen. I then suggested that he join me at the party. He agreed under the condition that he could drive me home and I give him a bed to sleep in.
During the trip home, he placed his hand on my knee. “Don’t worry white boy, I suppose you have never slept with a black man. I haven’t slept with a white man either - nor with a famous ballet dancer.”
He squeezed my leg and I felt much better. I had been a bit worried because I had heard a lot of stories about black men with foot long cocks and their insatiable lust.
Tag: christmas|Tag: gay|Tag: ass|Tag: sex|Tag: young|Tag: cock|Tag: tyrain|Posted in Gay Christmas
