SYLWEK

Sylwek was a short, skinny boy. A boy – not some camp queen! I watched him with fascination, even though the park queens didn't speak very kindly of him. And despite that unpleasant episode when his pretty body suddenly became covered in thin, thread-like lines – supposedly an allergy to dog fur. Back then, any skin issue made you think of the disease we didn't even dare name.

Sylwek was friends with Jolka, who often complimented me. I wasn't interested in him. Long hair, passing himself off as a girl when straight-acting thugs were around – which actually worked quite well – it all repelled me. I wanted a boy, not something pretending to be a girl. Sylwek was completely different. He was already twenty, sure, but still so deliciously boyish that something inside me would melt just thinking about him.

We were chatting in a little group in the middle of the path: me, Jolka, Sylwek, and the old guy from Gostyń. I kept glancing at Sylwek. He quickly noticed my lingering looks and almost immediately started looking back at me the same way. We kept inching closer and closer, until we were hugging and kissing.

– God, what a pathology! – Jolka giggled, clutching his head. Half jealous, half serious.

The old guy from Gostyń suddenly turned around and started pacing back and forth near us. I knew him – forty-something, reeking of stale cigarette smoke, driving a beat-up Golf. He gave a damn good blowjob with a swallow.

Love in a cruising spot. Two guys kissing. A rare sight.

I wanted him. We were making out hard now, touching each other. I asked the old guy from Gostyń if he'd drive us to the Cytadela, because I didn't want to do it in the park with so many familiar queens around.

We sat in the back. I don't remember the drive. My eyes were closed, Sylwek's tongue was deep in my mouth, my hand wandering under his shirt across his smooth chest. When we arrived, we went straight into the bushes. The place was overgrown with tall thujas, and you had to go up a few small steps. The old guy walked along the path below, throwing greedy glances our way the whole time.

Our flies were open and we were fondling each other, kissing passionately. But something was holding me back from going all the way with him. That nagging thought about his dermatological horror, that "dog allergy," kept coming back. So I nodded toward the old guy from Gostyń and let Sylwek in on the secret:

– He gives an amazing blowjob.

Sylwek had no objections. I called the old guy over. He came running like a dog with his tongue hanging out. I pulled him by his rags, brought him down to the ground. He did it obediently and greedily. Sylwek and I never stopped kissing. Neither of us could stop smiling after that little episode with the old guy. It was heavenly to taste Sylwek's saliva on his tongue while feeling my body pulsing and sensing climax approaching. I came when I wrapped both arms around his neck and thought only of him.

The old guy from Gostyń licked his lips and turned to Sylwek. He went at it fast, like a madman. Probably he'd been waiting for this the whole time – he already knew my taste well, but he had the honor of servicing Sylwek for the first time in his life. Sylwek moaned and groaned. We stayed in that embrace, in that endless kiss. It felt so good when he came. In that moment I loved him and was incredibly happy about this wonderful adventure.

I never saw Sylwek again after that. I accidentally deleted his number from my Yari. Two queens had his contact, but they wouldn't give it to me. I had the feeling that the fags didn't want us to meet again. Together we looked like we were in love. There was beauty in it, and love, and life. And seeing such things in the sad life of an average queen was unbearable.