reviews_and_ramblings | Excerpt Day: Slovakian Boy by William Maltese

Slovakian Boy by William Maltese
Release Date: 04/2009
Publisher: MLR Press
ISBN: 978-1-60820-050-4 (ebook)
Publisher Link (ebook): http://www.mlrpress.com/ShowBook.php?book=SLOVAKBY

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Blurb: Unabashedly borrowing from the literary precedents set by John Guare's Six Degrees of Separation and Akira Kurosawa's Rashomon, Slovakian Boy is a kaleidoscopic account of handsome young Pavel as seen through the eyes of interested -- sometimes too interested -- parties of family, friends, and fans. William Maltese's narrative of a boy's determined reinvention of himself as a porn god is a sexy romp through a rarely explored realm.

Excerpt:

Pavel is such a handsome young man.

Pavel is such a considerate young man, in that he doesn’t have to stop off and see me, does he? His grandfather could gift me my favorite tobacco by some other means.

More and more often these days, most young people don’t really give a tinker’s damn for anyone over thirty, but Pavel’s the pleasant exception. Those of us near death’s doorstep are usually avoided like the plague. It wasn’t like that in the old days. In the old days, old age was given some well-deserved respect.

Not that Pavel stops by every time he hikes the Slovensky raj trails, but he stops by often enough. Each time, he patiently listens to my oft-repeated stories of how it was when his grandfather and I took to the mountains and fought side by side in the Antifascist Slovak National Uprising.

Not that I tell Pavel everything about my close relationship with his grandfather. Some things are best kept private. Some things are best savored only as personal—unshared—memories, not only because Pavel might not understand, but because I don’t want to dilute my remembrances of Pavel’s grandfather and me, and what we did, by the telling.

Pavel doesn’t believe how much he resembles his grandfather, when his grandfather was far younger. I can tell he doesn’t believe, every time I insist it’s true. He has only seen pictures of Jaromir older. Few if any cameras were with us in the mountains, when Jaromir and I fought in the uprising. Now, of course, Jaromir is—as am I – stooped in body, wrinkled in skin, cataract-clouded in the eyes. None of this resembles Pavel’s athletic physique, baby-ass skin, and crystal blue eyes. Nevertheless, when Jaromir and I were young, he had all the good looks of his grandson, maybe even more.

Certainly I was smitten by Jaromir’s attractiveness when we were younger. My love and affection for him came later.

Oh, the love and the affection, when it did come! But I tell Pavel none of this, as I relate old tales of battle.

Mical, the young man who has come all of the way from Bratislava to repair my roofs, has grown so tired of my stories he excuses himself for bed before I begin yet another nightly telling. It was easier when I was younger to imagine what Mical must do to amuse himself, alone in his bed. Such musings by me have become less and less frequent as I get older.

As soon Pavel begins to nod, too polite to ask me to please shut up so he can go to bed and amuse himself as Mical undoubtedly does, I announce my intention of turning in.
Alone beneath my covers, warm and toasty, I remember how it was in the mountains, wet and damp, few covers to be found. I remember Jaromir and I, huddled within that dripping wooded landscape, our teeth chattering.

“I’ll bet if you fucked my ass, we’d both get plenty warm, plenty fast enough,” he said to me.

And, he was right. I was on fire from the very moment my fat uncircumcised cockhead poked for entrance up his wondrously tight asshole and….

“Ohhhhhhh!” I come awake. I think my bladder has once again betrayed me, and I’ve wet the bed. The indignities of old age! How wonderful to be Pavel’s age, or Mical’s age, when one needn’t fear being betrayed at any moment by the body. Oh, to be young again, back in the mountains, fighting side by side with young Jaromir and other young men.

I’m amazed to feel that the liquid that splatters my belly and cock feels too sticky for piss.

I throw aside my blanket. I use a bedside torch to illuminate my stomach and the creamy gobs that splatter my belly, my dick, and my white pubic hair.

And, they say miracles don’t happen!

How wonderful this miracle has happened to me!

I thank Pavel for this. He so much resembles his grandfather that he’s made it easy for my dreams to become wet with my memories of Jaromir and our hot and heated sex together.

Pavel is such a handsome young man.