Yet there is a charm in the West Belarusian village in the potato harvest season. Usually, you wake up from a cool, but blinding sunbeam, which, making its way through ripe, heavy yellow plums in a well-washed window, moves up to your eyes, like an arrow pointing to a marked digit. Only instead of an alarm clock - a light signal to sleepy eyes, which cannot be appeased by pressing a button. And although today is Sunday, and however much you can indulge in erotic dreams, nothing can be done, the act of awakening took place.

However, the act of awakening took place five years ago. As I went to the seventh grade, my mother attached me an acquaintance to the acrobatic section. In order to tear away from Maupassant and Boccaccio, secretly read with a flashlight under a blanket. Smart aunt advised her to direct my early awakened sexuality to physical exercises. Oh, and this is a tedious thing: to repeatedly work out flasks, random gears and other elements that are not so necessary in life. I began to walk, instead of the gym, I ran to the movies. I remember Romeo and Juliet, Zeffirelli, sweet movie, tear. He looked eighteen times, first wiping away a tear with a furtive eye, then looking sympathetically at the sobbing viewers. But I always looked forward to the bed scene, remember, at dawn, when Whiting had to jump to Mantua urgently. "That lark was ..." Romeo, hugging Olivia Hussey, lay naked on his stomach, and the camera, with a smooth back, glided from the smooth buttocks, covered with soft growth, and then languidly delving into the curves of his slender legs. I do not know whom I was in love with more: Romeo, Juliet or their love, but this scene worried me every time. And now, behind the window, a feathered, perhaps, lark, chirping around behind the window. And next to me a potential Romeo sniffles, that is, my classmate Yuri, who has pulled off almost all the heavy wadded blanket. He lies nose to the wall, showing me a tangle of straw hair and a shoulder in a sweaty T-shirt. The bliss spreads over the whole body from the thought that at any moment I can touch, or even cuddle, feeling all the warmth of his sleepy body.

I was kicked out of acrobatic for absenteeism, and in order not to upset my mother, I immediately asked for the next section of the classical struggle. At that time I did not read ancient authors, but intuitively reached for the classics. There I quickly became friends with the boy, I do not remember the name, he had been studying for a year now and he had a real wrestling tights. Soon I pulled him out to Romeo and Juliet, but he fidgeted and for some reason did not cry. I was disappointed, but otherwise he impressed me. He had an open face with a small nose, light-blond short hair, he was as thin as I was. Because of one weight class, the trainer usually put us in a pair. Once there was such an exercise: I had to bend down, taking the body of my partner either on the shoulder or on the back. At the same time with one hand, I grabbed his neck, the other - under the groin. Next run in a circle. Instead of gripping, my right hand made a smooth sliding movement along the knitted crotch, then I tensed and lifted it with a jerk. It was hard, but pleasant. Then the coach gave the command to change. And then, with horror, I remembered that instead of a spetstriko I wore an ordinary T-shirt and underwear, and under them elastic heat. I was ashamed of my plebeian uniform and imagined how his hand would be confused in my crumpled shorts. But the boy quickly bent over, and, dexterously charging me, rushed in a circle, so I was sweating from the fear of being dropped. In the dressing room were showers, but I usually changed clothes and ran away, leaving the shower to the house. It was not that I was in a hurry, it was just awkward for me to stand naked next to the older guys, who, playing muscles in front of each other, were cursing, bragging about their adventures with “chicks.” I was afraid that I would be pushed on a slippery floor or, which was really scary, they would laugh at my not too athletic body, or, worst of all, suddenly I would get up ... On that day, we were the last to go to the locker room, the people were already leaving. He quickly undressed and went to the shower, called me. I excused myself, saying that I didn’t even take the towels, somehow at home. “Damn, I couldn’t even rub my back,” he said plaintively, and then somehow vividly, as if he had suddenly found himself, added, “and I have a huge towel, a double towel, enough for two.”

Yuri moved in his sleep and threw a leg over me. His legs are muscular, tanned and hairless, like that of a boy. Only the shoulders are much wider, and with narrow hips, his torso seemed ideal to me, although he didn’t play sports and ignored physical education at the institute. The classmates liked him, although he never showed any preference. Interestingly, he already fucks? We have never come close to the “potato”, he is from another group. For a year of study they chatted in a smoking room a couple of times about lectures, teachers, about anything. Here we were settled together by chance. She went to the village council, where the bus brought us from the city and where we were distributed to the huts, woman Ganulia and simply said:

- And I, eight of these two hlapchukou, pryzhozhih uyala b.

- A chamu dzauchat not take? - the brigadier asked with a laugh.

- Duc was flying already, hopits. Suspended hour yes ih lads zalyatsalis, Duc dzvyaryma yes nights knocked on, - she smiled slyly. - Boys spakayneyshiya. And dzevak you, Mikola, yes syab byary. Nyahay May boys and tvaih gotstsi jyatsya.

So we got with Yuri in ganulinu hut. Grandma prepared a “hall” for us, and she lived in the bedroom.

“Firanki karunkavaya,” the grandmother showed right away on the white curtains, “hatsya ru ab ix is ​​not looking.

- Good, granny, - Yura said softly, happily looking at the TV, - I talebachanne do you have pratsue?

- And ya zh w! Use yak u Goradze. - Ganula smiled smugly, her mouth gagged. - Glyadzitsy, guys, just do not sleep. I s tsygaretami courtyard ti y Senetsy. And so use here for you, Kepska Nya Budze!

Yurka looked askance at the modest sofa:

- And where to sleep?

“And at once a broken-up spoon,” and she deftly opened the sofa-bed, then she put on clean linen and gave one, albeit a large, quilt.

“There are at least two pillows,” Yurka whispered, turning to me, confusedly.

Oh, naive Belarusian village! Put under one blanket two guys about eighteen years old! In the order of things. Well, she had no extra blankets.

- Rukamoinik pad yablyanyi, and at laznyu nyadzel uzho poydzetse, bachyli, kalya club? - Ganulia blurted out, winked and popped out with a bucket, probably milking the cow.

I paused for another minute and, carefully stepping on the slippery tile, walked over to the shower. He stood with his back, washing away the soaped head. I did not know what to do. He began to turn off the taps in the next cabin, I was doused with icy water, I jumped, and then he called:

- Well, come here, you spend a long time there with these cranes. He grabbed my arm and pulled me under the thick jet.

“Give me your hand,” and he squeezed the shampoo out of my tube onto my palm.

I came out from under the shower and, turning away, began to soap my head. Suddenly he came to the side and ran his fingers into my hair.

- We sweat on mats so that we should wash right away.

At the same time, he removed my hands from the sacred process of washing the head and began to massage nicely. I closed my eyes and leaned against the edge of the partition. Then I felt his fingers in my ears. Seeing nothing and not hearing, I felt the world only through his breath and touch, soft and confident. Soon I felt a hand on my neck, it attracted me to the shower, where pleasant warm streams, intertwining with its hot hands, washed the foam away. Then I got a soaped sponge and a smile of wet eyes.

“Now work on it,” he said, turning his back, and braced himself against the wall with both hands.

Yuri turned over on his stomach, and his face rested on my shoulder. Two village flies fly around the room, performing a mating dance with an inspirational buzz and blatantly not noticing the adhesive tape suspended from the lampshade. When they land on Yurkin’s cheek, I gently blow them away. He does not wake up. Let him sleep, today is Sunday, by the way, there will be a bath.
The sponge quickly slid up his back and then gently descended to an invisible border, beyond which I was afraid to lower my eyes. I tried to put pressure on a sponge with force, not so much by demonstrating male power, as I tried to distract myself from an incomprehensible state of internal tension, most of all fearing to reveal external tension to his eyes. For a moment, I felt that I was losing control, and began to frantically go through distracting images in my thoughts. A wet nurse is my salvation, laughter, help! ”Now you have fallen on your forehead, and when you grow up, you will fall on your back”. And he has a birthmark on his shoulder, with a three-kopeck coin, and much lower too, smaller. How do you want to reach there with your hand ... And then where you go in training ... Oh, it seems, we arrived ... And if he turns now? My cheeks were burning. Crafty nurse betrayed me.

Sleeping yurkina palm already on my stomach. Let it fall below, I'm ready. God, she goes down, I'm getting cold. It is evident that his dreams are very erotic. Already concerned, It is necessary to jump out of bed faster. Someone else's hot hand in my groin. The hand of my classmate, a favorite of college girls. Yes, I have four years to study with him! Stand up! I can not get up. He seems to be stroking. Is it still in a dream?

“Thanks, now it's my turn,” he turns. I'm missing. But what is it? He has too. I want to hand a washcloth, but his hand is already holding my ... Oh, what a sweet tingling. I'm afraid to look up. He squeezes the whole hand ... to pain. And what am I standing with this stupid washcloth? With my free hand I touch the nipple, stroking my chest. The sponge fell out of the other, and I touched for the first time ... With this one memory alone, everything is straining, as it was then. But then the door slammed in the locker room, voices were heard.

“Laznu uzho pratapili,” Ganul announced not in old-fashioned woman in a ringing voice, opening the door. - Dzen are kind, a stator, a kai ranitsoypoydzetse, people are not a Bagata. Usa paegali on krimash byu paekhaushy, Duc Garelki tamak recruited, like a goddamn grazi, Duc Serca i shapila. Yes, the house is not davely, scan on the slope. - Ganul went to the image, tying a handkerchief, and crossed. - At kasitel sennya paedu. Well, you, peuna, to dance?

- So, Grandma.

- Well, nyahay sabe, maladyya well ... - and fluttered as suddenly.

Yurkin’s hands were already on top of the blanket, his eyes were open.

Someone has forgotten things, and voices, and not penetrating into the shower, fell silent. I carefully looked in the locker room - no one. He closed the door tightly, took the soap and began to slowly drive it under the arms. Without a word, he gently touched my wrist, took away the white slippery piece and quickly soaped the washcloth. I turned to the misted window, waiting for the touch of a sponge, but I felt flexible fingers vigorously massaging my neck and shoulders. And yet, what was his name?

Looking thoughtfully out the window and squinting against the sun, he asked:

- Did you bring shampoo?

- And even pumice.

- And I have a whole terry sheet.

- Let's not go for breakfast, Ganul will not be offended if we drink a cup of yogurt on an empty stomach. Did you have a cookie somewhere? Yurka carefully climbed over me, splashed to the backpack, from which bags, packs, banks immediately fell down.

“Mother was all worried that feeding would be bad here.” Look, what just did not push.

We quickly washed, had breakfast, filled our bag with personal belongings and went outside. Traces of night frost still glittered in the grass, but the sun was already warming. Passing by the ruins of the castle, we slowed down, because Yuri began to talk about the magnate surname that owned these lands in the seventeenth century. He walked over to the cracked wall and gently ran his hand along the old stonework. He had long fingers with surprisingly well-groomed nails. And when he managed to follow them after daily digging in the ground?

The fingers disappeared, and after a moment a burning sponge with speed passed over the spine. His free hand lay on my waist. And the washcloth was already gently walking on the buttocks. The languor, shame and some other unknown feeling flooded over me, I relaxed and could barely stand on my feet.

In the bath there was nobody. As soon as we undressed, Yuri pulled me into the steam room. About the broom, we forgot what he noisily regretted, then briskly succumbed to a scoop of water on a hot oven and stretched out on a wide wooden step. I climbed a notch, sat on my haunches, and with curiosity began to look at a part of his body that had not been seen before. She was smooth and elastic. He laid his head in his hands and seemed to fall asleep. Small droplets protruded on his tanned skin. I soon softened from the heat, moisture flowed over my forehead, filling my eyes, my hair was burning. I lost my feet, but there was nowhere to step. Then I gently placed one foot between his outstretched legs, barely hurt, and the other reached for the floor. There was a sigh.

I felt his nervous breathing out of step with the movement of the washcloth. He half turned, poorly understanding what I was doing, reached out to the burning barrel of the pistol and stroked his hard trunk. He groaned.

I opened the door and went out in the cool. He rolled himself with a basin of water and quickly soaped himself. At that moment, the door of the steam room swung open, and Yuri, reeling, went to choose a basin.

- It is strange that our nobody.

- We all got drunk yesterday, here they are sleeping. But where are the local population?

“And on the Kirmashs at Pastavakh,” Yurka laughed, then went to the door in the waiting room and threw an iron hook.

- Why are you locked?

“I don’t like surprises,” and he looked into the only empty window leaf. Then he began to splash water from the pelvis.

- Don't splash on me, it's cold.

In response, he, laughing, threw out the whole basin at my feet.

“Lie down on the bench, I'll wash you properly,” he said in the tone of a real bath attendant.

I humbly lay down on my stomach. He poured me out of the basin, soaped a tough, natural bast and set down on my back. Then on the thighs, strong jerks on the legs. I could only succumb to the charm of the strength of his hands. In the city bath, I was rarely, only when the house turned off the water. And they never washed me, however, almost never ... But suddenly a thought pierced: how am I going to turn, after all, I'm ready ...

I sat down and stuck my other hand under the velvety hemispheres. Swollen, blue under the delicate skin, vessels pulsed before my eyes, and I ran my tongue over them. The boy’s fingers sank into my hair and slightly lifted my head, and part of his body was in his mouth. She moved smoothly. Soon this strange sensation was added with even more unexpected, taste and sound. He wheezed, and his body was beating an uncontrollable shiver. Again the door slammed in the dressing room, and we went into the shower.

Someone knocked. Yuri went to the door and dropped the hook. “Ah, geta garadzkiya,” the man hoarsely wheezed, looking at us, and dragged the child of about six years behind him. I got up slowly, washed myself. Then he gently rubbed Yuri his back, with a businesslike look, deliberately showing the peasant that we are in a hurry and are not disposed towards his hungover infusions. He looked intently, with a clear desire to start a conversation. But after a few minutes, we were already smoking in the dressing room, wrapped in one single sheet, which visibly pulled together. Soon our fellow students showed up at the window, and we began to dress.

I arranged to go after the bath to the guys at the preference. Yuri, not a player, said he would go to the next village to look at the church there. Towards evening he returned with a bottle of Belovezhskaya. Then - to dance in the club. He did not miss a single one and every time with the new lady. And when he famously picked up the full-breasted head of the club (the nickname among the students of the Sixth Size), then almost everyone stopped dancing and with applause turning into universal laughter, they did not take their eyes off the mind-blowing couple. Dug in a matron, proudly supporting the honor of the rural intelligentsia, and at the same time a wig, worked rhythmically with her hips, dancing, presumably, tango, although rock music sounded. With her free hand from the wig, she sometimes, in time with her inner motive, imperiously pressed her gentleman to her rather weak chest, while Yuri kept her most serious expression on her face. With glimpses of burning passion in sharp turns. The dance ended with a happy tear of the Sixth Size, painted with blot-colored mascara in the repetition diary, and her grateful crocodile, smoothly turning into a drunken curtsy. At eleven it was all over, but the reddened students were clearly not going to disperse, building plans for nightly adventures. On the porch we lit a cigarette, Yuri, reeling laid his hand on my shoulder:
- Let's go home, tomorrow, early on the serfdom.

I was not drunk, but decided to play along. And hugging him around the waist, he stumbled across the dark village street.

His arms wrapped around my torso. He listened: no one else. And without looking away, he awkwardly tried to kiss me. Nose interfered. I was the first to guess, I bent my head, and our lips eagerly dug into each other, and the water gushing on my cheek. He took me to the next cabin and squatted in front of me. He began to stroke my ankles, then calves ...

- Do you know how to do massage? - I asked Yura, when we were already down.

- Do you want? - in this sharp answer, I thought it was a double meaning.

I silently turned over on my stomach and put my hands under my head, listening to the old woman sleeping in the next room. After a pause, he threw back the blanket and sat on my horse, kneeling my hips. I instantly felt a rush of blood to the place of contact and felt the rider's hot breath. Slowly and uncertainly, he began to knead his shoulder muscles. Soon my hands froze, and my breath approached my ear. I raised up, and my lips caught the burning tongue.

I stood with my eyes closed on a rubber mat, feeling his lips, first with my feet, then with my legs, thighs, and ... finally ... He nibbled lightly, and it excited even more.

Yurka helped me roll over. His kisses burned his neck, his arms, his chest, his stomach. And suddenly I was in it to the root, and his long, saucy fingers were squeezing my wrists, as if I wanted to break free. A jerk - and the dim light of a lantern outside the window flashed before his eyes the outline of his thighs, and then I felt something impatient and hot pressing against my lips.

Then he got up, turned, and with his hand directed my gun at the target. Oh, how delightful it was to enter into this world of bliss and trembling. My hands greedily embraced the body, with which I already felt that I was one. The boy was moaning, but the sound that echoed from me probably drowned out his moans. A hand that slid down his belly, tangling pulsating moisture.

Yuri lay down next to me, pulled me to him, kissed me deeply and with heat, and then with all his weight fell on my back. I felt persistent pushes, pain, all tense, gradually relaxed and ... it seemed to me like a state of weightlessness. After a while he was already frantically biting my shoulder, but I did not feel pain. Only bliss.

When I got out of the shower, he wrapped a neck towel around my neck. It was so good. And there was a happy feeling that now I am not the only one, and not one. That I have a friend with whom I will not part.

Yuri went to the yard to smoke. And I looked at the black branch with black plums on the pale yellow background of the lantern and listened to the whisper of dry leaves being torn down by the autumn wind. I guess I was happy in those moments. But with the alarming rustling of the leaves, the fear of loss was already creeping up. Is it inevitable? And I squeezed the pillow with force. And subconsciously, I choked this drilling ...

And then it hit me: the boy was called Yura! But I never met him again.

He came back, creaking his boots, struck a match and, bringing a trembling light close to my face, said thoughtfully:

- I wonder what eyes you will look at me tomorrow?

.. The fingers, burned by a dying twinkle, dropped the dead match, and I felt a bitter taste of tobacco on his tender lips. And then he curled up and childishly buried his face under my arm. And hugging the shoulders of this big child, I realized: he asked me to take in our hands a fragile, like a lantern swinging in the wind, our future.