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    R. Eric
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Makarovia? Where The Hell Is That? Freshman Year - 29. Chapter 29

The birthday was set up nicely. None of the garish, overly done decorations, yet it was festive, but no banners to say “Happy Birthday”. Peter wasn’t a child. Everyone was happy to be there. We had a great dinner, no one sang that song. The meal was not strange to me, but I learned it was Peter’s preferred meals. We had things like Salata de Beouf, I’d had something like it at my home in the United States. It’s a sort of beef salad, but there were no hotdogs in it this time. Grandma needed to learn how to make this. One dish looked like a beef stew, but it didn’t taste like any beef stew I’d had. Again, Olek said this was a combination country and I tasted a lot of Hungary in this. Not Goulash. It was sort of sweeter but had the Hungarian spiciness. There was a cake with the candles though. Peter blew all twenty-six out in one breathe. No party hats or those annoying things you blow which rolls out with a “thweep!” This was a nice cake with candles, but a traditional cake. Chocolate. There general conversations around with everyone, but I stayed with Peter most of the night.

“Did you have a good birthday?” Olek asked smiling at his brother with Helga at his side.

Peter nodded. “I did. It started with a bang.” He grinned at me taking my hand. “It was very nice.” He looked at Olek. “I took Eric to Rsys Lake.”

Again, just like Queen Alla, there was the softening of expression and a nod of understanding from Olek. He knew the significance of the lake.

“I remember it fondly,” Olek said smiling, but softer.

“Maybe it could be a sanctuary or a national park?” Peter suggested. “I just hate what Eric mentioned about them maybe developing that land, he agrees it shouldn't be.”

Olek nodded. “We can even name it after Dad. Dedicate it to him and make it his park.”

“That would be awesome.” Peter grinned and the two of them started talking.

I saw Helga was happy…mostly. I walked over to her. Tonight, she was extremely pretty. Now, with makeup on…that stuff put over the eyelids for color and even darker eyelashes when they used all those things. Color in her cheeks. Hair was not just clean but styled a little nicer. It was still long, mostly straight with a few of those more decorative waves in the long strands. She wore a dress tonight! She’d worn a nice outfit the last time, but this one showed she had the curves and shape that would attract men…I knew it was mostly to attract Olek.

“This is a very good look for you.” I waved to her, speaking in English. She spoke Makarovian some, but I knew she understood English and a common language we both spoke. “Not that what you had on before wasn’t nice, but…”

Helga looked down at herself and chuckled. “Well, this is more than I usually do.” She pointed to her eyes. “Contacts…they’re nice, but a pain to put in and take out.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Helga.”

She smiled as she flushed a little. “Something I tried for almost two decades to play down. I wanted professors and department heads to see my dissertation or read my facts, not concentrating on my face or boobs.”

“Brains and beauty.” I nodded. “They can be a deadly combination.”

“For a while, it was beauty they saw first until I started to play it down so they’d listen,” Helga said. “I really didn’t concentrate on it and things got better. Looks weren’t my concern. I needed people to pay attention to what I’m saying.” She shrugged. “I was…not ready for Olek.”

I nodded understanding. “When Peter and I first met at school…I was so attracted to him…even before he got treatment for his medical condition. When we first kissed…I had just found out he was a real prince. I was not ready for that. I never thought anything could possibly work between us. I had doubts and concerns…now he’s just…Peter. Soon to be my husband which also blew me away. He’s a good man. Olek, is a very good man.”

“But, he’s a king,” Helga said in a whisper.

I nodded. “Yes, but first, he’s a man. It takes a while to adjust up here.” I said tapping my own head. “He does like you…a lot.” I looked. “Did he tell you it was okay to say no?”

Helga nodded. “He did.”

“He means it. No pressure.” I said.

Helga sighed. “But I do feel pressure. I like him.”

“Go with that,” I said. “If you feel it won’t work out for you…at least, I beg you to tell him. He might hurt, but don’t stay because he’s a king. It will hurt you both more if you do. I don’t want either of you hurt…and I’m sorry, but I don’t want Olek hurt. He means a lot to us…to me.”

Olek and Peter were laughing together at something one of them said.

“You are a very close family,” Helga said smiling.

“We are.” I nodded as I saw Olek hug his brother, giving one of those light shakes a brother does when brothers are friends. “I love this family. I love Peter the most obviously, but…I love Olek and Mom.” I looked at her. “Give yourself time and perhaps give Olek a chance to show you he’s a really great guy. Give him the chance?”

“I don’t know if I can be a king’s girlfriend.”

“Forget that part,” I said. “Be Olek’s friend…the other things will fall where they’re supposed to. I promise.” I said as Peter turned toward me smiling. “I think my husband wants me.”

Helga smiled and nodded. “I know he does.”

 

Peter and I returned to our room. He closed the door and turned to me, but his smile was…more than just happy, but content and resolved about something.

“I had a good day, Eric.” He said coming over wrapping his arms around me. “All thanks to you.”

I smiled as he kissed me gently. “What did I do?”

“You love me,” Peter said simply. “That is enough.”

Wild, near animal like passion was great. What we had that night, was nothing but love.

 

Now, we had to leave. We were flying to England first, so I had to make sure we had what I needed. I called Drew to let him know we were arriving and set up an appointment with him. There was luggage Peter and I had which was loaded. The boxes of items from the archives ready.

At that little airport near Stryia, we said our good-byes to Olek and Queen Alla.

“I’ll visit.” Queen Alla assured touching her son’s face gently and kissing him on the cheek then me and hugged us both. “I promise. Probably in October. We’ll video conference call as before. You’re not really gone.”

Peter chuckled. “I know. We’re good.”

“I'll come…sometime,” Olek said shrugging. “When available.”

“Olek,” Peter said almost scolding.

“Which I will make sure I make the time available.” Olek swore. “I promise.” He hugged Peter. “I’ll miss those daily times when we worked together. I’ll miss you.”

“We’ll be back for Christmas,” Peter said as Olek kissed Peter’s temple. “We’re not leaving you or Makarovia. I’m just a phone call away.”

Olek nodded, but there was a tear forming. “I know.” He grabbed me. “I love you, Eric. I’ll miss you, too. You’re a wonderful person and welcome member to this family.” He kissed me on the temple. “I’ll really miss you two.”

 

The trip to England was about three and a half hours. Things were different for me. On the flight were six additional people who weren’t flying the plane. Security. In Makarovia, there was security and this was different. I got used to them in Boston, I’d get used to again. Peter and I were home Makarovia. Now, this was…out in the world. Potentially hostile territory. We landed and whisked by limousine to a hotel. The Savoy. Very…one word I can only use, posh. There are just not enough words to describe it well. We walked in and again, Peter didn’t even think about it. He just took my hand as we walked in the lobby. Another thing I had to get used to…I was fine where everyone knew my name in Makarovia…or even at school in Boston, but here!? A country that I hadn’t been to until now, they knew us. At first, I thought people were looking at us because we were open about our relationship being a couple, but…people looked and suddenly spoke with whoever they were with and I heard a couple identify us telling Peter was Prince Petro and I was the Eric Richards, the Earl of Stryia. These were not employees, but other guests. At the desk, the young man there greeted us and told us we would be taken to our suite.

“…the items you brought for security have been put in secured storage.” The young man assured us. “Enjoy your stay.” He said handing us the two cards they use as keys now.

Peter turned to me as we headed to the elevator. “You know why we're here…at the Savoy.”

“Because they didn’t have rooms available at the Holiday Inn?” I asked kidding.

Peter chuckled. “I don’t know about that, but this is secure and there is limited access to where we stay.” He pointed to the men following us. “And them.” He sighed. “England’s getting some of our uranium, it pays if they keep us safe.”

I nodded stopping him as we walked, pulled him toward me kissing him. “It will be such a struggle staying here, but I’ll deal with it. As long as you’re here, I’m fine.”

Yes, I saw the struggle we’d have. It was a suite. Not those huge ones, but bedroom, living area. Oh, and a bathroom and closet big enough to put several people in each of those rooms. A lot of creams and whites…all those colors ladies knew the names of, but I don’t. A king-sized bed!

Peter and I knew each other and he could read me as I did him.

“This is a necessity.” Peter said justifying. “Not for my or your luxury. Necessity.”

I chuckled pulling Peter to me. “It’s okay.” I nodded and waved at the suite. “You were at home in my little apartment, remember? You didn’t feel at home where you lived…at least not until we moved in together. Why?”

“Because we were together,” Peter said simply.

“And because we’re together now, it will be fine.”

Peter smiled. “I just don’t want you feeling…uncomfortable with this.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” I frowned at the bed. “I liked our little room back at the palace. It wasn’t fancy…it was nice, but you were there. That made it nice. This is all so…polished and neat. I miss our bed.” I said waving at the big bed.

Peter grinned walked backward and threw himself on the bed. “What do you think now?”

I chuckled walking over leaning in and kissing him. “Much, much better,” I said stretching out over him as we began kissing more deeply.

“Can we do the Bulldog again? It’s my favorite even before I knew the name of it.” He chuckled. “I’ll even do you.” He offered.

I sat up more. “We have time, let’s go.” I pulled on my shirt to pull it over my head seeing Peter was watching me. “You’re wearing too much.”

Peter grinned as he pulled his shirt out of his pants and pulling it off. “A problem easily solved.”

I leaned in kissing him again. “I really do love you, Peter,” I said caressing his face gently.

He smiled. “I know you do.” He pulled me for another kiss. “I love you, Eric.”

“I know you do,” I said bending over him and placing my tongue in his armpit making him yelp, but he wasn’t stopping me. Now, he liked it. Foreplay.

 

We had dinner in our suite, rather than dress and go to the restaurant. We did watch a little TV, but we also made a lot of love. Peter did love his present. A lot of some were just variations of what we did naturally. I used the one from the Karma Sutra about warm oil massage and there were some things done while I did it to Peter making him cum like he preferred and went to the Missionary, I loved to face him. Just because I was above him, didn’t mean he didn’t top me. The Missionary with slow actions by me to stretch his second orgasm out. Don’t believe a moment I got nothing. He came three times in three hours. I came just as many and at the end, we were both breathing hard, but totally satisfied.

“I love you, Eric,” Peter said kissing me as he smiled holding me as we relaxed in the afterglow. And there was an afterglow.

“I love you, Peter.”

 

In the morning we were heading to the BBC facilities. And I wanted to see Drew again. Talking on the phone was great, but he had become more than just a reporter covering the fay, fag and fairy shit. The boxes were loaded in a van and we rode to the BBC. Security was right there in a car in front of us. The BBC was located in about four different places in London. We headed to the broadcast house. My phone rang as we were riding. I grinned at the name I saw on my phone.

“Drew!” I said happily.

“I am so happy you’re coming! I can’t wait to see you guys! Where are you?”

“We’re on the way. Our appointment is half an hour away. We’re not late. You knew we’d be there.” I said.

“I know, but come to a street named Portland Place, there is an access road across for the Langham off Portland next to the BBC Broadcast House. We have a loading area there to unload what you have. We’ll be there.” The fact Drew said that didn’t have the ring of another employee with the BBC.

“Why do I sense more in that we?”

“Wayne is here, too. He couldn’t be left out.” Drew said and I heard someone fussing at him I knew had to be Wayne.

“I’ll tell our security driver,” I said. “See you soon.” The driver was, to me, on the wrong side of the car. Hell, all of London drove, to me, on the wrong side of the street! I told our driver in our car and the head car with security. Looking freaked me out, so, I just didn’t look as we rode.

“Very good, You’re Lordship.” He said and I just sighed, I’d never get used to the titles.

“That’s who you are now, baby. You understand better now why I liked being just Peter when I came to Northeastern.” Peter chuckled patting my leg. “Just let it go.”

About twenty minutes later we pulled in where I saw Drew and Wayne waiting with two other guys and a cart to take our stuff up.

I can open my own doors, but our driver got out and rushed to open them. I would just have to get used to it, I guess. Other people might like it, but I was always a do it myself sort of person. Having others do for me…is just not me.

Drew grinned and rushed us, ignoring our security men, hugging me. Wayne hugged Peter.

“Welcome to London!” Drew said waving at the city beyond the loading area.

We switched hugging partners.

“I do hope you enjoy being here,” Wayne said to me. “I was thrilled when Drew told me you were coming.”

“He told me you would be.” I nodded. “This visit is going to be nice, but…he did tell you why we came, right?” I asked.

“He did,” Wayne said. “There were some things left by those that came to Makarovia during World War II.”

I nodded and did the come with my finger at them and led them back to the van. Opening the door, I waved at the boxes. “Quite a few things.”

Drew let out a slow whistle. “Wow.”

I reached in for what was on top because I put it there. “This one…means a lot to me.” I felt Peter come up behind me and put his hand on my back. “These are the diaries and journals of Milo Wier. His husband Bren Shultz was severely…abused…”

“Eric sort of fell in love with these two.” Peter said kissing the back of my head.

I nodded. “I did. What they went through…together was horrible…but they never once abandoned each other and were married, in Makarovia, for over thirty years beginning in 1948.” I smiled as Drew’s eyes widened. “Theirs, I think, is the ultimate love story. I got bogged down with the overwhelming horror and tragedy of what I read, which I was told by a friend to be upset over what happened then, but see the victory and mostly…love after they got to Makarovia. Far beyond Romeo and Juliet or any other love story, I’ve heard about. They stuck together and lived…in love. That triumph needs to be known and their story told.” I handed Drew the books. “I don’t need to tell you…this is very, very important to me. Don’t let anything happen to these.”

“I’ll guard it with my own life,” Drew swore caressing the leather-bound books.

“As much as I love Milo and Bren, Milo had very bad penmanship.” I chuckled. “It’s all in German. German and bad penmanship, I might as well try to read Mandarin Chinese! I’d have as much success understanding.”

Drew chuckled. “Not to worry. Cassie speaks German fluently and does good work with handwriting. She’s good and her translations will be in English.”

I nodded. “Once on the website, they can choose the language. No problem.”

“Well, let’s get these up to the lab.” Drew pointed to the doors that led inside.

 

Once upstairs, they did have quite a good sized…lab? There were things I didn’t know what they were used for. He took the box of sealed tapes we’d brought and Drew pointed to a machine.

“That will…delicately,” he stressed the delicately part, “record all the tapes and digitize them carefully. We can then go through the recordings and send you a digitized version.” Drew explained. “It picks up everything. If there are problems from when it was stored, damaged…we can work on those problems more.” He walked to a box and opened it. “Wow.” He picked up some bundles of letters, the corresponding pictures that went with each bundle. “It’s all together! This is great!” Then he opened another box. He chuckled at what he saw. “Well, this one needs to be done first then.” He lifted a bundle.

I nodded pointing at the bundle. “Those are pictures of Milo and Bren. There are a few letters, too. Some are in Makarovian, but most are in German.”

He placed the bundle beside the journals and diaries where they sat alone.

The door opened and a young woman came in…her late twenties or early thirties…dirty blonde hair and like many women…young enough to be pretty without trying. Her hair was done up behind her head with a few strands that had come loose. She’d been working. She froze when she saw the men here that were our security. Again, it didn’t matter what country you were in or where they came from, security was security and…just something about them screamed that fact to you as they never cracked a smile or expressed any emotion of their faces, just a look as you walk up or to them told you we’re watching you. It must be taught in Security 101 or something.

“Cassie!” Drew smiled at her coming and taking her hand leading her past our security. “Eric, Peter. This is Cassandra Kurtz. Cassie, this is…”

She looked at us and curtsied. Curtsied! Had anyone curtsied to me before? In Makarovia sure, but out in the world? I didn’t think so. “You’re Highness. You’re Lordship. Of course, I know who you two are. It’s an honor to meet you both.” She had a German last name, but the accent was British.

Peter gave me a slight nudge grinning. “My…future husband is not used to the title and whatnot.” He explained to her.

“Eric!” I said to Drew, Wayne and this Cassie. “Got it? Drew, you and Wayne call me Eric. I’m Eric. Say it.” I said to Cassie. “He’s Peter.”

Cassie chuckled. “Eric and Peter, sure, I can do that.” She looked at all the boxes and I explained what I would like to have done.

I was so pleased when she went to a portion of the room and put on gloves! Like she was preparing for surgery!

“Paper often picks up the oils and other things from fingers. Continued touching will cause them to begin to degrade.” She explained and opened the top diary. She let out a “oohh,” she shook her head. “Not very neat with his writing, was he?”

“Can you read it?” Peter asked.

“Of course, I can.” She smiled. “Naturlich ann ich das.” She nodded.

Peter grinned and leaned closer to me. “She said it again, in German.”

“Why didn’t you translate it?” I asked Peter a little irritated, not angry, but he understood what she and Helga said.

“Speaking German is one thing, reading handwritten German is harder. I’d be guessing!” Peter explained with the same irritated tone I’d used. “You want it right, don’t you?”

“Yes.” I sighed.

Cassie laughed. “Don’t worry about it. There are some words I can make out pretty well…the ones that aren’t, I reason from the sentence was should be there and it comes.”

“Good.” Then I grinned at Peter switching to Makarovian. Ти сексуальна, коли ти гніваєшся.” I grinned telling him he was sexy when mad.

Peter rolled his eyes but smiled back. Так, ми можемо спробувати інший з моїх подарунковій коробці сьогодні ввечері?” He asked if he could choose from his gift box as his eyebrows danced slightly.

Ще б пак.” I pulled him into a kiss. You think I would tell him no? I said you bet!

“Since no one here speaks Makarovian,” Drew said smiling. “Whatever you said to each other is safe. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Peter nodded. “Sure.”

“You two know, you’re invited to our home as friends,” Wayne said. “You’re both princes or rather...one already is and the other is going to be…but we invited you as our friends. You know that.” He put his arm around Drew’s waist. “We both really like both of you.” He said as Drew nodded.

“So, this is more than just a job,” Peter said. “You to get a story…”

Drew smiled and gave a grudging nod. “There is that part, I admit it. If you had just been a couple on the street, I might have said hello, but this is a good thing happening…in Makarovia and the world. You chose me to do that. I’ll do it. However, Wayne and I hope we can be sincerely considered friends…your friends.”

Peter smiled. “I’d like that.”

I grinned. “I hug everybody, but I like you both…so…” I hugged Wayne, then Drew. “I look forward to a friendship that grows.”

“Yea! I promise not to piss either of you off.” Drew said squeezing me as he rocked us back and forth a little. “I have friends, Wayne.”

“He’s always doing that.” Wayne said smiling at Drew and me. “We make friends and he…pisses them off. We’ll keep you two.”

Copyright © 2017 R. Eric; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I wonder what stories will be discovered in all those boxes! There have to be interesting things that have been forgotten all these years. And many painful things.

 

 

I don’t think I’d be interested in getting all slobbered on, so no bulldoggie for me!  ;-)

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1 minute ago, droughtquake said:

 

I don’t think I’d be interested in getting all slobbered on, so no bulldoggie for me!  ;-)

There's no slobber in Bulldogging!  Well...no more than with other forms of passion or sex.  There never was for me.  Daniel never slobbered and I didn't either.  Got to have the right partner!:no:

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I'm really enjoying this story. I can only imagine what stories are hidden in the testimonials and tapes. I hope that Milo's journal will tell about the life he and Bren had after they came to live in Makarovia as well as what hardships they dealt with while still in Germany. I hope that once all of the testimonials, photos and tapes have been translated and digitized Drew is able to get a great story from them, not only talking about what happened to them in Germany but the lives they were able to make for themselves after getting to Makarovia. I believe the friendship between these two couples will get stronger with time. 

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I’m glad that Eric chose Drew for the job of translating the diary’s and journals of the men who were able to escape Germany during the second world war. Two of those men were Milo Wier, and Bren Shultz. Bren was severely tourtured by the SS soldiers constantly raping him not only with their cocks but with weapons as well, the last time they were able to get him Milo was able to get him and Bren out of the camp only because there was a fire. The reason Drew is able to do the story on what they find in the boxes Eric and Peter brought him from Makarovia, because he covers all of the Fay, fag and fairy stuff where there’s no one else that covers this stuff for the networks. I’m sure that he’ll do a great job and with his friendship with Peter and Eric he will be able to get a honest answer to the questions he might have. I appreciate the fact that Drew has help to get the translation done before the rest of the world gets ahold of the story. Great chapter.

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On 12/16/2017 at 12:33 AM, R. Eric said:

There's no slobber in Bulldogging!  Well...no more than with other forms of passion or sex.  There never was for me.  Daniel never slobbered and I didn't either.  Got to have the right partner!:no:

Then it must be snorting pits and pubes!  ;–)

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