Ukies--49. A Final Time...The End

A final time

On a nice summer’s day I was heading up to meet Octavia, a Spanish girl and my somewhat-new girlfriend, who was taking courses at Baruch College on 23^rd Street and Lexington Avenue. It still being early I decided to walk by the river. It was nice how things had changed, people’s dress had turned over to a more freer and looser look then it used to be; the girl’s weren’t so tightly-dressed with straps and garters and who the hell knew what else…

On 10^th Street, where the children's playground was, I saw a short skirted chick sitting there with a baby carriage before her. A kid was crouched in front of her in the sand as an older kid played with a fire truck next to them.

I could see at my vantage point how short her skirt was barely thigh high, and I was sure if I was seeing it from the front I’d glimpse her panty, if she was wearing any. I adored the short skirted fashions nowadays, re-woke the thrill of being young and alive, something the old weren’t doing.

I walked on, smiling to myself, thinking I’d turn around and see some pretty erotic sight as I passed her by…Oh, my God, it was Olena, wow! Olena! from school whom I haven’t seen her in a number of years.

Wow! She was still smoking a cigarette and looking bored at the kids around her. A puff of smoke came from her lips and she faintly recognized me…and her eyes were calling my name…if she remembered it. For a moment I wanted to rush to her, ask her how she has been after all the years between us but I just shrugged, shook my head, turned around and kept walking to meet Octavia…

Ukrainian school was definitely over….Thank God! And hurried off to meet my Spanish Octavia…

The End

Ukies--48. Fartso

Fartso

I had been away from the neighborhood about three years or so, spending my time going uptown or to Brooklyn or even Jersey. But being a part of NYC meant you could be away from your neighborhood just 2 or 3 blocks and it would seem like you were miles away. NYC is so teemed with people that neighborhoods become worlds; Ukrainian, Polish, Irish, Puerto Rican, and pretty soon you lost yourself between who is whom and what race can they be? But all you can do is walk…

One early Saturday morning I found myself staggering down 7th Street. As usual I had been up most of the night fooling around in the Village; the years had changed and people came and went, a friend this week meant he’d be a stranger next. That’s the way life went in NYC…

Wow! There’s the church and the school right there!

I even shivered from remembrance pretending it was the cool morning…I shrugged and turned onto the street.

Shit, I shouldn’t of…

I forgot that on this street was the Veteran’s Hall where the drum corps had gathered and this weekend was Easter Saturday. No matter how the neighborhood may have changed the old church didn’t forget what they were doing, praying to God, I suppose. So they must have kept up the old Easter tradition of staging a military Honor Guard, meaning kids dressed up in their drum corps uniforms, playing and acting like they were soldiers guarding the dead body of Christ. This was Holy Saturday and kid soldiers must be back in church.

I lowered my head and walked by the Veteran’s Hall and just as I did the Hall doors were flung open. Four boys resplendent in their uniforms and shakos on their heads holding wooden rifles at their waists eased themselves out the Hall and began a slow march to the church. I remembered this: how many little marches did I have to participate in the two days before Easter where we guarded the body of the dead Jesus? Way too many…

And after the boys out came out along came Fartso, a guy named Alexander…whatever, looking older and tired but sleepy too. I had to grin…

We looked at each other; I had long hair while his was short and out of style. I guess he must have stayed in the neighborhood, keeping up his connection the school and church. I smirked at him.

“Hey, Fartso,” I said. He immediately turned red with anger at my use of the name, something he always did through the years. It wasn’t my fault he kept up the kid’s game of farting when the girls came by even when he grew older; I wonder if that was his reaction now to girls he saw, but looking at him, too tired looking, I guess not.

“What are you doing back here?” he asked. I expected him to fart but he didn’t. “You left,” he went on. “There’s nothing for you here.”

I looked at him as he turned and followed the imitation boy-soldiers into church for their changing of the guard.

What a life? I thought, shrugged, and staggered down the street.

###

Ukies--47. The Finish

The Finish

A few months after we graduated from school I heard that Olena was expecting. This was in the diner and I thought I’d be smart and said, “Expecting what?”

“Listen to this,” the guys laughed, “He don’t know what expecting is!”

After the usual ribbing and taunts they settled down.

“I wouldn’t like to get one of these girls from school,” said one guy, shaking his head. “More experience is better.”

“Yeah,” said another. “Get one who knows where to get a job and hold it!”

They’d laugh and again they started ribbing and jesting. I’d had enough. “Gotta go,” I said and walked away from their hooting and smart laughter.

I was going to go home but I kept on walking and thinking. Boy, I knew Olena’s kid wasn’t mine, I was still a virgin, but did I want it to be mine?

The lights increased and I was in the Village, near the Sheridan movie house. Would I see Olena anywhere? Fat chance, I knew. I lit a cigarette and kept on walking...Times Square was getting closer and surer…

Ukrainian days were definitely over…

###

Ukies--46. Graduation

Graduation

Finally it was over. You could breathe a sigh of relief that it was finished…forever.

We had just participated in the final task of graduation that would be required of us and were quickly unbuttoning the robes to get the hell out of there, when Sister Theodosia strode into the room. The boys all fell quiet. I also froze; I had just spat out a curse word and lowered my head as I unbuttoned a stubborn button of my graduation uniform.

I heard her footsteps come across the room and stop before me. I was sure she was going to berate me a final time when I saw her fingers brace the button and ease it off. My robe was free…Wow, she had helped me! Never did that before…

I looked at her; she was red-faced and tearful. Something was coming to an end…

Many years later I would think of the books I was still to read, of Brothers Karamazov where Ivan is kissed by the Elder Zosimov. Sister Theodosia stooped down and kissed my cheek. She said nothing but looked at me as if she was going to say something…Then she turned and walked away and out of my lives…forever.

Many of the guys looked at me but they also said not a word and a few shrugged at each other.

Gratefully grade school was over…and Ukrainian days were finished for good…or so I thought…

###

Ukies--45. Changes (2)

Changes-2

On the day I was supposed to meet Olena at her new meeting place along the river I did not show up. I was on upper Broadway, in Times Square, where I spent my time in the penny arcades and peep show emporiums, trying to shoot various guns and gazing at weaving strippers in the grainy films of very old peep shows at five cents a shot. But the strippers never took off that one piece of material I was longing to have removed and the machine set itself off, flashing a card that read, Drop Another Dime In, Buddy! (even thought it cost a nickle). Which I did, and got only a repeat of the doggerel short tease that went nowhere.

Back in school on Monday, a glaring Olena was very distant and uncommunicative, wouldn’t even look at me.

Big deal, I thought. Screw the bitch!

But after school she stormed her way to 2^nd Avenue, and I was right behind as I raced to catch her. I did but she glared at me.

“I was right there at 2 o’clock,” she fumed. “At 2:30 I said fuck him!” She was steaming.

“You lost it, buddy! Now beat it!”

The light changed and she stormed over to the other side of 2^nd Avenue. I watched her as she pounced down 7^th Street. I shrugged, there were but two days left in that school anyway…

“Oh, screw this shit!” I said aloud then turned and went home…At least the memory of old time peep shows in Times Square still lingered…I couldn’t wait to get home and jerk off…make up my own peep shows in my head…or imagine the real Times Square…Oh, screw Olena!

###

Ukies--44. Changes (1)

Changes (1)

Near the end of the school year Olena began to be a bit tense and nervous, but over what? she wouldn’t say…One time I walked her down 7^th Street to 1^st Avenue.

“Why don’t we meet somewhere else,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Somewhere closer, you know.” She sucked on her half-smoked cigarette, threw it away, looked at me, and lit another one.

Many times I had wandered back and forth along Washington Square Park looking and hoping I’d see her, which I seldom did, and finally going in some movie house and trying to make sense of my anger and disgust.

“Why can’t we meet somewhere there?” I had suggested in the past. “Like in the park?”

She looked at me with some disappointment.

“That’s not part of the game we’re playing.” And she looked hopefully at me.

Over time I agreed to be her patsy, with what ever she had in mind for me.

That first time was easy, she seemed to be right there when I came walking by in the Village. The next time I had to walk a block out of the way but I saw her under a movie marquee about to go into the Sheridan. Still, the next time was even harder; I think I wandered all over the Village and did not see her anywhere. I went home angry as can be.

“Sure,” I said. “We can meet on the corner, in front of Mindy’s.”

But she looked at me with some frustration and anger, her lips clenching tightly; I thought she meant the corner where everyone who goes to school gathers and hangs out.

“I don’t mean there,” she finally said. “Somewhere nearby, you know…” Again she bit her lip and looked nervously at me.

“You tell me where,” I said, hoping she didn’t mean further uptown.

She studied my face again, and said, “You know the park by the river?” and she flicked her cigarette in a puddle of water. “On 10^th Street, there’s an overpass. We can meet there”

I nodded. “Yeah, sure, let’s meet there.” I felt myself growing hard as she leaned over and kissed my cheek, strangely looking very perturbed and bothered.

“But what time?” I called after her.

She turned around, lit a cigarette, and loudly answered, “Same as last time.” And she trailed off as I watched after her….

Now what the fuck did that mean? I thought, again pissed and staggering home. What fucken time?

###

Ukies--43. 8th Grade

8th Grade

8th grade was the best! All the girl students had little breasts pushing out of their jumpers and the boys had bumps bulging in their pants that caused a few mishaps as the school year went by, like bumping into them and not so accidentally.

But Orest did it openly and wasn’t afraid of what the teachers thought or said. He kept his arms poised chest high as a girl approached and would reach out to get a full feel as she nervously approached him.

“They do it on purpose,” he smirked one day, after some flustered girl hurried away from getting felt up. “I just give them what they want.”

I wondered about that as I jerked off at home. I had seen that before, big breasted girls parading by Orest as he’d stand there and just reach out and have himself a nice handful. Was it so easy? It sure seemed like it…

I had my secret eyes on Lyudmyla that year, who seemed bigger then the others -- I was sure she had worn a uniform that was hers two years ago, too tight and much too short, showing off her encumbered held-in breasts with the tops of her nylons peeking out from under her too-short dress. I was hot even before I saw her each school day...What was the point of learning when there was sex everywhere you turned?

Orest had just felt up Kathia who turned red and called him a jerk as she ran off down the hall. I wasn’t too interested in Orest’s reactions because rounding the corner was Lyudmyla. I instantly grew much harder than I was from seeing Orest get a feel. My mouth drooped open as my breathing became low and shallow, almost nonexistent.

Orest had his feel, yawned, and moved down the hall but I stood awaiting Lyudmyla…She trod heavily, clomping her heels on the tiled floor, clomp, clomp, clomp . . . I stood up and stared at her breasts. She glared at me and spat out, “What’s your problem?”

I simply reached out and touched a breast. For a moment I felt the warmth and beauty emanating from the bosom and I imagined she had increased the size of her fulsome titty.

She blurted out, "You pervert!" She turned and and hit me on the face. "You're sick, I swear!"

Later that day in class I was scared she would tell the Sister Emilia what I just did but she was silent. Sister Emilia said nothing about my puffed face… I saw Orest yawning again…After school I hurried home, holding my face, and jerked off…At least that felt good…

###

Ukies--42. Staten Island Fairy

Staten Island Fairy

I had wandered into the Staten Island Ferry Terminal in my usual walks through the city. I was supposed to meet Olena in the Village but again she didn’t show up. I was pissed and found myself walking downtown. I had no idea where I was going but the walk was very pleasant and interesting. The buildings, the stores, the people were all new to me and I just walked on, heedless of where I was going.

I knew NY was surrounded by water and many times as I walked glimpsed docks and ports on my way until I came to the tip of Manhattan. But the place was peopled by crowds rushing inside of a terminal. The signs read Staten Island Ferry, so I shrugged, threw in a dime into the turnstile and found myself on the deck of a huge ferry boat.

Damn, where was I going? I wondered.

I took a seat with the rest of the crowd, as they read newspapers, but it got quickly boring so I stood up and walked around the deck. Wandered from end to end all around the boat and found myself going into the bathroom to pee. One guy stood at the urinals but he didn’t look at me so I unzipped and pulled my penis out. Ah, it felt good, peering on water as the ferry churned along…

I heard movement and out of the corner of my eye saw the guy moving away from the urinals he had been standing at. I shook my dick a few times and turned around. The guy was standing, leaning back against the sink, his dick out of his pants and hard as hell. I watched him pull the skin back…And strangely I blushed, but didn’t know why, and I felt my own dick begin to harden in my jeans. Again I saw the guy’s penis bounce up and down as he stood there and licked his lips. I stared at the dick as if fascinated then shook my head, turned and walked out of the bathroom. Outside I found a seat but far away from the bathroom…

I didn’t see the man when the boat docked on Staten Island but I turned about and took the next boat back…I quickly found the bathroom and held my stiff penis before the urinal. I heard someone enter…my face was very red…

###

Ukies--41. Nowhere to go, nothing to do...

Nowhere to go, nothing to do…

Was a hot summer and the streets were too sweltering to just hang out on them. 8th Street between Avenues B and C was no different from 9th Street between First and Second Avenues -- two places I always gravitated too, Bohdan was on 8^th, Ihor on 9^th, but the hot streets were a no-where-land to me that summer so I headed uptown…

Must have been 95 degrees or so when I turned off 23^rd Street and went downstairs to the pool hall there; I had been there before, the guys never checked your age, and it was a nice place to get out of the heat.

I took a seat and watched a few players going around the tables, but it didn’t look like they were seriously playing, just workers from the various companies on their lunch breaks.

I had been there maybe a half hour or so when a pool player nodded at me.

“Looking for any action, kid?” he said, chalking up his cue.

I shrugged. “Maybe,” I said, not getting up, since I didn’t want him to think I was an easy mark.

“Rack ‘em up, kid,” he said. “Let’s play a game.” And again he chalked up his cue. “25 cents a game, alright?”

I got up from my chair. “Nah,” I said. “Ain’t interested,” and headed to the door and stairs.

“Stupid kid,” I heard say behind me.

Wow! 99 degrees! I read in the corner drugstore thermostat. Wish I had somewhere to go…something to do…

I just walked…and sweated…

###

Ukies--40. Best Friends

Best Friends

Marko and Oleksiy both had a thing for Alla… though at the same time.

It started at Christmas time when Marko gave Alla a gift that came as a surprise to her, a little bottle of Chantilly perfume. When Oleksiy found out he took her ice skating in Central Park and spent some time there. The following week Marko and Alla were seen in Rockefeller Center, more uppity than the lower classed Central Park, and both were ice skating. She had been seen with both of them but on different days…This drew them into words.

“She’s mine!” dared Marko. “Stay away from her!”

Oleksiy snorted, “Screw you, loser!”

They were kept apart by the older guys who thought it was funny. But it wasn’t funny to them both…

One day Marko was on 11th Street and 1st Avenue when he saw Alla standing across the avenue and talking to Oleksiy. His blood boiled but he saw Oleksiy lower his head as Alla keep right on talking.

Now what the hell is this? he wondered. Alla talked as Oleksiy listened with his head bent down. What’s with them? He saw Alla turn and walk away.

He smirked to himself, ready to cross the street and gloat to Oleksiy that Alla had picked him over but Marko suddenly he felt bad. The three of them had known each other for almost what? Eighth years? Wow, how time flies!

He waited a moment then shrugged and walked the other way to 10th Street to Avenue A. Sure enough a game of baseball was being held there…

That spring they graduated from school. Alla found a new boyfriend, a Puerto Rican kid on Avenue C. Oleksiy and Marko went together to high school uptown…Never heard from them again.

###

Ukies--39. Ukrainian Baby

Ukrainian Baby

She had just finished the 8^th grade when word got out that she was pregnant.

Damn! Only 16! said the old timers.

But who could’ve done such a thing? they wondered, obviously, someone not of our nationality because our boys wouldn’t do such a thing…well, at least they’ll come out and take the responsibility…

Disgusting! said another.

But she grew bigger and bigger, her belly stretching out wider and wider.

Maybe it was Hryhory, said a third, who continued, I have seen them together and they were whispering to each other…Must be something in that…What a minute…Marko, the sly one…he was always after her…Remember when they had that dance in school? Who did they take away because he was bothering the girls? Marko. Yessirree…It was him!

It’s disgusting! they all agreed.

Still she wouldn’t say who it was. Her mother promised that she’d find out and when she did it would be the end of him…Even had some Gypsy words to fling at him, mixed together with the Yiddish she cursed him with…

Disgusting, what little kids do to their parents nowadays! Just horrible!

She stayed in her room getting fatter by the day until she went to the hospital to give birth…unfortunately the baby was born but died prematurely…

She killed it! the old geezers said. I know she did! Poor, poor Ukrainian baby…

###

Ukies--38. Seeing Olena

Seeing Olena

I saw Olena today on Broadway. I was going to the pool hall on 23^rd when I noticed her across the avenue.

Was this too far to approach her, I thought, or was I conditioned to play her game of not knowing who I was?

I shrugged, and was about to cross the avenue when a guy standing by her said something and offered her a cigarette. I crouched with lowered head but kept my eye on them. The guy was doing most of the talking as he lit her cigarette -- but I saw she had turned red and was looking away from him…that could only mean one thing…

The light changed; I saw she was looking right in my direction. What would happen now?

I slowly began to cross the street, hesitant, afraid, when I saw her smiling at me. I breathed a sigh of relief; glad she knew me no matter that this wasn’t downtown anymore…

I came up to her; she leaned over, flicking away her newly lit cigarette, and let me kiss her cheek; she squeezed my hand.

I saw the guy look at her, his lips tightening as he stared at the wasted cigarette and just keep walking.

I was very happy that she recognized me…we were just a few blocks away from where her strange game would actually begin…I breathed a sigh of relief…

###

Ukies--37. Hardup Janet

Hardup Janet

Janet was a pretty girl who had the ungainly name that could get her in trouble in those years:

Have you got a hardon? Not yet.

Are you gonna get one? You bet!

Who you gonna stick in? Janet.

How’s it gonna come out? All wet.

Sung by the whore house…Quartet…

We would laugh at her as Janet would fume and curse and spit out, “Idiot! Idiot!”

I was in the 8^th grade and lusting after every girl in school and out of it. Janet was in another school but this was NYC and even in a building where they lived kids went to school in

opposite directions. Sometimes I saw her come out of her building and head up 2^nd Avenue -- I always lusted after her, and I had the notion that she was doing the same.

One morning after jerking off, I walked past her building a little earlier, thinking I’d get her because she was ripe for sticking it in, or so the song did say…I kind of was sure she was the one who had inspired the song…

I entered the lobby -- the building was still sleeping, stretching out as if getting ready to go to work. What to do now? I thought. She has to come down the stairs and there I’d be, looking up her dress with my dick out ready for her mouth to gulp it down. God! Was I hard just thinking about that moment…I pulled my dick out.

Then I heard footsteps, high heeled ones I was sure, maybe with just a toe hold on each little shoe. Oh God, I slowly pulled my dick out and held it before me ready for her to descend the stairs….

A guy appeared at the top of the stairs and I heard him say, “What the fuck?!”

I was out of that building, running down the street as I was zippering up and trying to hold my school bag with the other hand. In no time was I on another street and spent the rest of the school day real pissed at my rotten luck….

I saw Janet a few days after that…I mouthed the song and laughed as she glared at me and disappeared down the street…

I still feel like an idiot…even now…

###

Ukies--36. Fat Sonia

Fat Sonia

Sonia was a fat girl whom everyone made fun off, how she dressed, how she walked, how she ran….

I don’t know how she got me hard but the possibility she could be the one made me gentler in my approach to her. I stopped laughing at her and actually began to be somewhat defensive when the guys started taunting her, which of course turned the laughter onto me.

“Hey Kolya”, they’d taunt, “Your girl friend is looking for you!” as their smirking and hooting began to make me feel embarrassed and mad at them.

“Fuck you!” I’d spit out defensively to get away from their insults, which I’m certain Sonia was seeing too.

One day, after the usual name calling I was getting from my so-called friends, I turned the corner on Avenue A and there was Sonia standing in a doorway of a building and looking at me; I knew it wasn’t her home -- she lived a few more blocks by the river -- and I turned red from seeing her.

“What’s your game, mister?” she said, frowning at me. “Why are you so nice?”

I suppose after all these weeks I answered, “I don’t know, I guess I like you.” And again I blushed and felt very uncomfortable.

Her glaring face lightened and she faintly smiled at me. And for a moment we liked each other and I smiled back…when I saw her eyes look over my head and again she frowned.

“Idiot jerk!” she spat out. “Get away from me! Stop following me!”

I heard laughter and spun around to see a few of my old friends laughing.

“Hey, Kolya, you like fatsos, don’t you?” they’d laugh. “Let’s see if she can lay down next to you? Hell, she can’t even stand up!”

But by then Sonia had stormed off as the laughter echoed after her but I wonder if for a moment before they appeared Sonia wouldn’t take a chance and get friendly with me…aw, hell I’ll never know….

###

Ukies--35. Kateryna khyrva

Kateryna khyrva

Kateryna was another of my jerk-off dreams that I spent many nights in bed with…if only I had the courage I would confront her and demand she tell me why she left me, but that’s why I always looked the other way when I saw her walking up the street. She had graduated a year before me and was in high school and was engaged to be married once her boy friend fulfilled his military duties. A few times she already seemed like a widow, just pining for her lost love while I was still in just the 8th grade…until, one day, Bohdan called her khyrva.

“Kateryna khyrva!” Kateryna whore, he spat out when we saw. I turned around to look at her in her tight blouse that perked up her pointed breasts as her short skirt swayed above the tops of her nylons straining to inch from the bottom of her skirt. I grimaced; I wanted to hurry home and jerk off…

“How would you know that she’s a khyrva?” I angrily asked.

Bohdan snorted and shook his head. “I guess you don’t know, do you?”

I shook my head. “Know what?”

He looked at me. “The whore keeps it a secret,” he again snorted. “Warns guys they got to keep it quiet or her Marine boyfriend will find out and beat them up.” We looked at each other. “She had a few guys from her class but it got to dangerous for her so she tried us younger guys, and I was the first to lose.”

I turned red but didn’t say a thing. “What did you lose?” I asked sadly.

We reached the corner where we were to part. “My self respect,” said Bohdan, and continued walking up 2nd Avenue.

I looked after him and imagined him with Katheryna khyrva. It was true what he said, she was a whore, a cock-sucking whore, who was after guys just to use them while her boyfriend was fighting in Vietnam for his country, or whatever war they sent him to. But Bohdan wasn’t the first one, I had lost out before he did and without a word of goodbye or acknowledgement from her. I had been her little toy and playmate for a while but then she quickly got bored and started looking for another one…a younger one.

Where, in the 6th grade, perhaps? Or maybe the 5th? Who the hell knew what she was trying now?

I went home and wondered how many boy friends had Kathernya khyrva while the war in Vietnam raged on? A hell of a lot, that’s for sure…. But what would she do once the war was over? I jerked off...

###

Ukies--34. Poetry

Poetry

In the 5^th grade I won a prize, not only was my poem accepted by the teacher as the best in class but who then set it to a typewriter which was then plastered it on a wall so that everyone could see and read and admire.

God, how proud I was!

Of course all the other boys taunted me that I was a sissy and called me many names everywhere I went. But after a while I no longer cared. I was a poet whose poem hung on a wall in school.

Screw them! I thought…but I never had another poem to hang on a wall again…at least I didn’t show anyone….

###

Ukies--33. Wrong Neighborhood

Wrong Neighborhood

The thing about Olena was that she wouldn’t recognize me as one from her neighborhood, like I didn’t exist for her, that’s why she acted like she didn’t know me when I saw her in the Village.

“People are strange to me,” I overheard her say one time, looking right at me on the corner of 7th street as she stood there talking with other girls from school. “I just don’t know them.”

I smiled to myself, thinking that was a clue, a hint, a come on…but I had heard this so many time before and of course the chances of running into Olena were very slim in the Village. The place was always crowded with people going in and out of the park and my chance of picking the right location she was in were astronomical if not any greater. But I at least took the chance….

The film we had last seen at the Sheridan was The Hustler with Paul Newman, who played a macho Texas he-man who got whatever lady he went after. I thought of going in and watching the film without Olena giving me a hand-job (if I was so lucky to get one) but it was a dollar and twenty-five, something I didn’t have, so I paced outside, fuming, thinking she was in the movie house…then went to the park thinking I’d see her there…then headed again back to the Sheridan, getting angrier by the minute….

After about four hours of walking back and forth I headed back down to the Lower East Side….

There was Olena, tight-pantsed, tight bloused, her blond hair puffed high on her head like she was wearing a tiara and just ignoring me. I cursed at her and didn’t even say hello…I went home and angrily jerked off.

But I wished I had gone in and watched The Hustler again; it was the last chance they’d be showing that…at least for awhile….

Shit! I hated being stood up…even if I didn’t have a date.

###

Ukies--32. Grabbing Marika

Grabbing Marika

We were in the auditorium taking our seats to watch some religious film when Ihor saw that Marika had entered. If you looked at them carefully you would have seen that they both had turned very red.

Something was up?

Marika entered the row before Ihor so she wouldn’t sit near him.

Something was really up….

Ihor fumed as he watched her enter her row -- she didn’t even glance in his direction, but knowing their closeness it was impossible they were not aware of each other.

What would happen? we wondered…

Marika reached the seats before him…and Ihor was right there…bending over and reaching out to grab her ass. It was a nice firm handful, clutching her meaty buttocks like reaching out and feeling a piglet or a sow -- but this was New York’s Lower East Side and his sweated hand clutched a nice firm ass…and quickly withdrew….

We expected a scream to burst out from her but there was just a momentary gush of surprise from Marika and in her red-faced silence which we never saw in the darkness…it was unclear what was happening.

Jesus was born up on the screen to quite a few boys stiff and dreaming of Marika…I rushed home after the movie and proceeded to masturbate….What else could I do?

Marika, Marika, Marika…

###

Ukies--31. Myroslav's in Love

Myroslav’s in love…

Myroslav was in love with Luba -- but she didn’t give a shit about him.

“We’re going to get married,” he would dreamily say. “Right after we’re done with school, you know?” And he winked as if taking us into conspiracy he had on going with Luba.

Stefan had enough of that and told him so. “You’re a real jerk,” he’d say as he shook his head in disgust. “I bet you she makes it with her Italian boyfriend, you asshole!”

Myroslav almost came out swinging from Mindy’s soda shop but the other guys held him back so he went off down Second Avenue cursing and mumbling to himself.

“Everyone knows that she’s a cunt,” Stefan said. “Why just yesterday she was in the park with that older guy she sees.” He stood up. “Aw, hell, you just watch and see…”

That Friday night, as the bunch was at Mindy’s along came Luba with her beau, maybe twenty years older then her and who had been married before but now it looked like he was after younger fruit, namely Luba.

I glanced over at Myroslav, his head was down and mumbling dejectedly to himself. Again Luba just walked by holding her old lovers arm and dreamily not seeing anything else.

How long would that last? I thought to myself, Myroslav angrily took off down the avenue after Luba and her beau….

Later I found out nothing had happened. I don’t even know if Myroslav confronted the old lover or not….

I shrugged and went on standing outside of Mindy’s soda shop saying snotty remarks to the girls who strolled by.


###

Ukies--30. Handjob Time

Handjob Time

Sitting in the back of the Sheridan it was too crowded so we sat up front, with our heads aimed still higher to see the picture that was playing -- a dumb Jerry Lewis comedy crap -- but we weren’t interested in that, we came here with one purpose in mind…

Olena to my left as we started making-out and feeling each other, and what I like about these movie theater kissing and hugging was feeling her up under her skirt and getting a glimpse and touch of nylons and silk and frail little stuff...And the way my hand was probing up her skirt, inching higher up her hose and feeling the garter straps having shifted about her spread legs, I wanted to push even further her panties were in my way.

And Olena used to act like she was a little girl victim, her lips pouting, her sighs deeper, her legs spreading, until she spasmed and pushed me off, like she hadn’t known someone might be watching, her face red and nervously looking about to catch an eye of an surprised observer. I think she’d be looking to show off more…

And of course I’d be left with a frustrating hard-on that had no sense of going down…until one day after she had orgasmed or cummed or whatever you call female spasming, and then sat looking around and lit a cigarette, blowing out her smoke but saw my dick was still hard and eager so she reached for it and started jerking me off as she sat there puffing on her cigarette and boringly looking at Jerry Lewis again made a fool of himself.

It didn’t take long, the thrill, the emotion, the lust, the heat, the openness of sex all combined together and made me spurt out my jism in an explosion of madness and peace. I felt as I was in heaven at that moment, like I had been blessed with being a son of God that had just ascended into his throne into Heaven…and all just from sexually cuming.

“Jesus!” I heard her flare-up. “Right in my hand!”

I had spurted out and the jism rose up her fingers and to her hand reaching up to her elbow…like beautiful pastilles draping along her tender sweet skin…and she was mad as all hell!

“Disgusting!” she said again. “That’s gross!” then she stormed off, I guess to the ladies room to wash her sticky hand off, but I didn’t care. Anyway, she didn’t come back; I waited, thought about her, then just shrugged and lit another cigarette. Hey, it wasn’t bad, I thought, about time she did it to me anyway.

Jerry Lewis appeared again and was funnier as I looked up, laughing at the movie…Ha Ha! What a laugh!...But Olena stayed away….

###

Ukies -- 29. Fake Boobs

Fake Boobs

Everyone was stunned when big-titted Olga appeared flat-chested one day -- her big tits had been taken out by an angry disbelieving nun who made her disrobe and show if the huge tits were real or not. Surprisingly, there wasn’t mad outrage from Olga, who took it all in stride.

“Hey, I don’t care,” she said and lit a cigarette. “It just proves they’re all a bunch of lezzies.”

“Ha ha!” laughed Petro. “You’re a fake, just like your tits!”

They glared at each other and she said, “Is that why you were after me, you jerk?” And she walked away, her school skirt swaying at her knees.

Shit! I thought. She was nothing but a fake!

I went home and lay down and stared at the turned-off TV. Pretty soon my dick was hard and pushing at my pants. I thought about her non-existent breasts and finally had to grin. She wasn’t bothered by it at all; you would think there’d be embarrassment and shame but Olga just shrugged and walked proudly off.

I jerked off three times that evening and got to like her very much after that. I noticed that the other girls were friendlier towards her too…All fake things gotta go, I thought….Whomp whomp whomp…

###

Ukies--28. Two Timer?

Two Timer?

Again I had seen Olena with strange guys on the Lower East Side, once on Avenue B and once on Avenue C and I knew that something shady was going on, but what?

It was a harsh winter that year; snow almost every week and a frigid cold that didn’t seem to let up. Going to and from school was more than enough, no one wanted to hang out anymore, except Olena, I guess…

I had seen her over time in the Village and played her game of picking her up, as if we were strangers and didn’t know each other, and I kind of liked it too. Sometimes we’d sit in Sheridan movie house and kiss like lovers and twice she had given me a hand-job (accidentally, I’m sure), which had me feverishly jerking off even more when I was alone from her.

Sometimes in class I’d stare off into space dreaming of Olena while she sat at the other end of the room until the nun would smack my head and scream, “I’m talking to you!” which would send my classmates into roars of laughter at how stupid I really was.

But that day I followed Olena after school to Avenue C, staying a block behind her, and the cold kept people off the streets, so it was easy to see her in the distance. Surprisingly, a guy stood out in the cold, just as I had seen another guy stand last week on Avenue B. Was this another of her game-playing lovers that I was finally getting aware of? But they didn’t spend much time together and parted as quickly as they met. She turned about and was walking back in the direction I was coming in.

Damn! Maybe if I lowered my head she would not see or recognize me? How would I explain what I was doing in the area? I saw her boots coming closer. “Kolya?” I heard her say. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

We looked at each other, the puffs of air coming out with out breathes. “Going to my grandmother’s house,” I lied. “Why the fuck are you here?”

Even in the cold there was a pleasant smile on her lips. “Marijuana,” she whispered and winked, looking around her. “God, I’m cold!” and she shivered, and looked at me as if expecting me to come closer and hold her.

I didn’t, but looked at her somewhat relieved, somewhat nervous that she was doing drugs that were used by Puerto Rican junkies, but what the hell did I know about it anyway. “OK,” I said, wanting so much to hold her.

She stared at me, then shrugged and trailed off down the street. I walked a block then took another street back home.

Damn, it was cold as hell! But I should’ve held her anyway, I knew that then but didn’t….Home seemed farther off than it was….

###

Ukies--27. Standing

Standing

As usual, I was standing and waiting outside of the Teacher’s Lounge for Mrs. Buzzi to come as I had to escort her back to the 7^th grade class…or was she escorting me? Aw hell, I didn’t know….

It was still early and I had about a half hour to wait. As usual, I was mad at the entire thing. My friends were downstairs, laughing, gabbing, acting ridiculous as I stood here alone, resentful, looking foolish to any passer by, normally goddamn teachers.

Mr. Dalekoczac was the ugly old Ukrainian teacher. My father had always said, “You better be nice to him, or you’ll get it.” And he’d wave his finger at me as if he was teaching me a secret lesson that only he and Dalekoczak knew about.

Just as my father, and the parents of other kids in school, Mr. Dalekoczak had been a prisoner of war under the Nazis and of course he suffered for it…But he survived and became a teacher who during Christmas time was collecting gifts for himself; the old routine we practiced was our parents would give presents to the teachers and the teachers would give us good goods. Weird, but that’s the way things worked in those times…

Well Myron, who sat next to me, didn’t have any gift for Dalekoczak, his parents were too poor, but Myron wanted a good grade, as he knew his grades barely passable. So he found a Christmas card somewhere and signed his parents name in it and gave it up for Dalekoczak’s collection.

Dalekoczak opened the cards one by one, took the money that was there for him and gave a little booklet as a keepsake in return, Yurza Murza, about a smart alecky kid who got a licking from adults was his favorite to give to the kids…we smart-assed kids thought otherwise….

Dalekocsak eventually got to Myron’s envelope and pulled out the empty moneyless card. A look of confusion fell upon his face as he stared at Myron. His face quickly turned to anger and he crumpled the empty card up, cursed, glared at Myron then went on to the next money-filled offer.

What a bastard, I thought, as now I saw him march down the hall. Firm chest under stiff posture that reminded me of the Nazi films I saw instead of him being a victim. He came up to me and looked me up and down, as if looking for something wrong he could criticize.

“You here again?” he said in Ukrainian.

I answered Yes, waiting for Mrs. Buzzi. She’s gonna take me back to class, but I didn’t do nothing, she always picks on me and I don’t know why I’m out here every day…

Dalekoczak angrily shook his head and began berating me for messing up the language, using propositions and adverbs instead of nouns as he had spent teaching us. “Hivno ne znayesh!” he cursed, You don’t know shit! and he stormed off into the Teacher’s Lounge.

I cursed to myself and went on standing, looking after him, thinking, pondering….and waiting…and waiting…always waiting….

###

Ukies--26. Snowballers

Snowballers

The entrance to the school building was on a side street, Hall Place, but the main entrance was at the front, 6^th Street, and seemed to be reserved for priests and nuns and visitors from outside. At night some big boys would walk by and take a leak in the doorway/alcove but mostly it was already stained with piss and vomit from the nearby McSorley’s Ale House across from Hall Place on 7^th street, whose patrons seemed to take a beer-piss as they staggered away from their drunken escapades.

The school en-fenced the alcove to stop this thing from happening but one morning they found a drunkard who had climbed over the fence, took his piss, and immediately fell asleep in the safe haven of the school.

One snowy Friday evening as the school was holding its Teen Hop festivities; I was in a doorway across the street with Petro and making snowballs to sling at the dancers as they came out from their dance. A few drinkers walked out of their way from McSorley’s but they seemed to ignore us as we did them.

It was fun talking about who we were going to get --each had a favorite-- but the question of why we hadn’t gone in and taken our chances and shared a dance with our favorites just never did come up. We were going to share love with the girls we wanted by a snowball thrown at them in the night.

We paced and talked and laughed as the do-wop music echoed in the night from the dance hall in school. Suddenly the door opened and out came a boy and girl, the boy wearing a winter overcoat and the girl protected by one of hers over a bouffant dress she had on.

Petro lobed a snowball at them even before I knew what he was doing. It flew across the air but landed uselessly on the snow covered sidewalk near them. Right away he threw another; we had made a mountain of snowballs just for the occasion. I was right behind him as another couple exited the dance floor and found themselves buried by a fuselage of snowy-filled bombardment. They ran down the street and me and Petro laughed and laughed as still others came out and got the same from us.

All of a sudden Petro took a snowball in the side of his face; now who could have thrown that? Another snowball came flying at us barely striking me as still another was lobed at us…thrown by a laughing pair of drunken guys who had just downed a few and exited McSorley’s. Their snowballs at us were thrown a lot harder and faster, there were adults after all; Petro and I took off down the street away from the drunken snowballers.

We separated on the corner, mumbling at the creeps who had destroyed our fun and each going his own way through the snow…to go home…each dreaming about the girls we were after… and masturbate…

###