Turpentine true story

Many things are changing these days. Judging and precautions appear. Some days wishing even this was sixties again. Veikko Kalervo Nuottajärvi has been a remarkable doer on gay venue on part of his own from VHS until digital video broadcasting. Helped by his colleague he managed to be promoted also to be a teacher. The tight and remote community of north has been sustaining of this wonder softly encouraging that such videos can be made and welcoming cheerfully. But these days the tone has changed and all should be in closet and diagnosed. Well shall there be broadcasting again as next chapter points the top of sugar cake on turpentined table somewhere at these days.


Turpentine


It was that morning not so long time ago Veikko Nuottajärvi took his pants away in town of Suomussalmi north of Finland. Alpo this man who he namely knew only just few decades put his small penis in Nuottajärvi's snatch. In the air was smell or rather a scent of turpentine. They were old boys Veikko and Alpo now nakedry in secretly at old boat builder's warehouse. Is it a werewolf is it a kiwi fruit that so goodly old man's tailbone's neighbor. They were two teachers of secondary school and full of secret awe on their retirement and vacation. Bearded old Veikko Nuottajärvi enjoyed the strict smell as Alpo took his backyard behind the sauna. They were on the same boat taking the broth. Though further and lower as Nuottajärvi was. Took all but in. Ranks were the captain that took now peasant's load nakedry at boatry to the old man's trust or chamber of secret behind. Floor blanks whined Nuottajärvi hallucinating the wave of a boat on the sails with an aim. Little fart escaped the crack as slight drops of poop travelled on Veikko's thighs. But that's about it neitherless to say best were the days only if gathered some seeds of wisdom in the old men's common sense. And the air smelled turpentine as poop fought back the undergrown clitoris was the wisdom never harvested or ripe. Old were the days once Veikko Nuottajärvi's cap was a sailor hat and such thing as a down syndrome that Veikko Nuottajärvi had was not yet a big deal. Sailor could be a friend and missing chromosome just old days without blames. No one to say that a friend could't be for a friend. Out of diagnosis just the old smell of rope and turpentine and two boys once again connected same old days reminding the pull that used to be holding tight