Lev the Landlord

Lev, my landlord, had two sets of friends that he drank with. One was a group of his work mates who were loosely organised into a football team. The other lot were expats from his home country.

I vaguely knew Lev’s workmates through my brother Olly. The first I knew of his East European friends was when I got home one Thursday evening to find a pile of muddy and paint splattered boots and trainers at the front door. The kitchen and the living room were full of men in dirty work clothes, surrounded by cans of lager.

Lev saw me come into the kitchen, walked over to me.

“My friends came over,” he told me.

I wondered why they’d come to Lev’s house, rather than going to the pub. Later, I realised it was just before the end of the week at the end of the month; they were probably short of cash.

From their dirty work clothes and the occasional bursts of broken English I guessed these were men who hadn’t yet made it in England like Lev had. Lev had a nearly-professional desk job. With weather-beaten faces and wiry muscles it was obvious these guys were still working on building sites, driving vans, digging roadworks.

“When can I make my dinner,” I asked Lev.

“Not tonight. You want to eat, go to the shop and buy something. Get some more beer too.”

“You want me to buy your friends beer?” I laughed.

He shrugged, pushed me hard against the wall, into the corner. He didn’t like me talking back to him. “Or you can stay in your room tonight”

I knew that meant him locking me in again. “OK ,I’ll get your beer” I muttered.

Mostly the other men in the room hadn’t noticed me arrive or seen me talk to Lev. They were well into their beer already, deep in conversations.  Just one of them was watching closely as Lev bullied me. He was about the same age as Lev, but smaller with a dark, thin face. Keeping his eyes on me, the man shouted a question over to Lev. Lev replied in two or three sentences, I heard my name and the English word “gay.”

The man  laughed. He came over to me, pointed to himself, "Andriy."

“You live here now." he remarked.

"Is nice here today. Normally, Lev live like the pig. You make clean?”

I looked at Andriy. He was not tall, only just taller than me. Still there was a sense of something threatening about the way he looked at me. I just nodded.

“I Lev’s good friend.” Andriy continued. “When his wife leave was sad, problem. Is good you make house for him until he find new woman.”

I blushed, stammered, didn’t know what to say.

“Lev say you go buy beer.”

He waved his empty beer bottle at me.

I nodded again.

“Then fuck off to shop. Quick,” he told me, at the same time slapping me lightly round the face in a way that could have been friendly, but wasn’t.

When I got back with 24 cans of lager, the rest of the evening passed quickly. I didn’t speak too much.  Petro, a tall blond, wiry boy of 19 or 20 was stood shily in the corner. I tried to talk to him a bit but Petro didn’t have much to say; I only really found out that he’d spent the day building a wall on a new development on the other side of town.

 A lot of the guys left about 9 for early starts the next morning. Soon the only people left were Lev and Andriy sat in the two chairs, Petro, and another guy crashed out on the sofa. I was sat on the floor. The conversation was lagging.

Andriy decided to liven things up. He looked over at me, “And what you do, you gay. You fuck boys?”

He was squinting at me, drunk, cruel. He was planning something.

Lev was watching carefully. Smiling, he nodded at me to respond.

“No.” I said to Andriy.

“Yes you are one who is fucked. I know this when I see you.” He looked pleased with himself.

“You suck penis you take penis in your behind.” That wasn’t a question.

“You like lick men’s balls, ass, dirty hole too?” That was a question.

I could have ignored him, left the room. I looked again at Lev.  Again, he grinned at me, but clenched his fist. He wanted me to play Andriy’s game.

“No. Yes. No, not lick ass when its dirty. I mean, I did it with my boyfriend, after a shower, when he was clean.”

Andriy laughed, pleased I’d confirmed for him how nasty gays were. He took a long swig, emptied his beer. Then revealed what he’d been building up to.

 “Show us.”

He looked over at Petro. The boy was almost asleep at the end of the sofa stretched out in his dirty t-shirt, his paint splattered jeans.

“Petro is very clean boy. He will sit on you. You do gay thing, give him happy asshole.”

Lev laughed loudly.

Andriy tossed his empty beer bottle at Petro to wake him up. He spoke fast at him, the same friendly but threatening tone he’d used with me earlier. The boy glanced over at me and muttered sullenly in response. Obviously Petro didn’t want to do it. Andriy was humiliating him nearly as much as me.

Like I’d done, Petro looked over at Lev, to get him to stop Andriy. But Lev was happy to let this play out. He spoke a few amused but stern words to Petro, telling him to do what he was told.

That was enough. Reluctantly Petro stood up and walked towards where I was sat on the floor, dropped his ripped jeans. His underpants - decorated with some faded cartoon characters - were baggy, full of holes.

“You lie down, gay boy” Andriy told me. I l did it immediately. This was a new level of humiliation for me. I didn’t know Petro, he barely spoke English. He wasn’t particularly hot. And most importantly, whatever Andriy said, Petro wasn’t clean, he’d come to the party straight from a building site. But still I ‘d started to realise I wanted it. Lev wanted me to obey Andriy,  who wanted me to lick the boys ass, and so I was going to do it.

I lay on my back on the floor, The boy, tall, towered over me unsteadily, drunk and hobbled by his trousers round his ankles. I briefly saw up his baggy underpants to blond pubic hair, a good sized dick. Then Andriy, laughing, gave him another order, and Petro turned around and pulled down the back of his underpants. His muscular pink arse was covered with a light fuzz of hair that ran round into his arse crack.

Unsteadily, the boy pulled one leg out of his jeans and squatted over me. He held himself over my face a few inches, unsure as to whether to really go for it. The smell of his balls and arse crack was strong, the smell of a guy who’d been working hard all day. It was a young man’s stink, though. I noticed how different it was to the hairy, musky odour of Lev’s late-30s beefy body. Jesus I was turning into a fucking connoisseur of unwashed slavs.

I waited. I hated how much I wanted it. Though I was servicing Petro, I could only think about Lev, that I was doing what he wanted.

Then the boy’s weight was on my face, my nose was buried in his ass. I could barely breathe. But I went for it. I stuck my tongue out and began licking at the crack. The strong smell turned into an even stronger taste. I felt the boy shudder as my tongue started lapping at him.  I could hear, as is if it was a long way away, Andriy and the other men in the room shouting, laughing.

Soon I’d got the geography of Petro’s arse worked out and had licked the soft skin and the few wiry hairs around his hole into a smooth, spit-soaked layer. I was consciously circling his hole with my tongue, leaving it for later. The boy was – I’m sure without wanting to – getting into it, sliding his  ass over my face, trying to drive himself down onto me.

When I was ready, when I could tell I’d licked his crack totally clean, I thrust my tongue as deep as I could into his anus. The boy yelped and groaned at the same time. The taste deep into his asshole was ok, not sweat now, but I was into my job and I didn’t mind. I twisted my tongue, tickling his ring. The boy was groaning continuously. Andriy let it run for a minute or two before shouting, “Stop.”

Obeying the older man, Petro abruptly stood up, so abruptly that my tongue was still out. The guys in the room laughed at that, at me, and then laughed at Petro embarrassedly trying to pull his jeans up around a substantial hard-on.  

But even before Petro had fully pulled his trousers up and I’d got up off the floor, I could tell the conversation had moved on. And that was the end of it: Petro and I had provided a few minutes of entertainment.

I slipped out the room, nobody seemed to notice. I was still slightly dizzy from being squashed under Petro’s ass, and from the thick taste and smell of him. I went to get some water, stood in the kitchen and waited for the visitors to leave.

They did, about half an hour later. As they walked past the kitchen on their was out, only Andriy paid me any attention. He stepped in the room, and gripped my chin with his hand. He leaned over into my face and said something loudly in his own language, so Lev coming up behind him could hear.  Then he cleared his throat before letting a long thick spiral of beery spit and phlegm down into my face. Again he slapped me lightly on the cheek and then left.

Closing the door on his visitors, Lev came back into the kitchen. He was, like always when he’d been drinking, cheerful and friendly with me, the only time he was. He punched me  in an affectionate, but hard, way on the arm, “Good party, eh.”

I was still a bit dazed and didn’t say anything. Lev watched as a long drip of Andry’s spit ran down my face and off the bottom of my chin. “And Andriy gave you a kiss.” He laughed.

He started walking towards his bedroom taking his shirt off as he went. I watched his broad, hairy back disappear into his room. “You start tidying up,” he said as he closed the door behind him.