This has been a weekend for birthdays – Star Trek yesterday and today, Leo Tolstoy, who was born on this date in 1828. I love Russian literature as much as hung black men so today is a special date. Tolstoy captured not only the Russian spirit but the human spirit. His characters may have lived in the 19th century but their problems with money, men, religion, politics, and trying to find good help make them timeless. G was a fellow fan of Russian culture. We discussed how modern the character of Anna Karenina was in attempting to balance personal happiness, motherhood, and furs. Tolstoy’s depiction of Napoleon’s epic retreat back to France, after the Russians burned Moscow to the ground before giving it to him, is vivid and heartbreaking. Fortunately, G’s retreat with me to the bedroom while quite fiery resulted in a much happier conclusion. I licked his furry chest and nipples before descending to his dick and quite significantly sized balls. They were almost perfectly round and reminded me of those specially crafted ice cubes one encounters in hip hotel bars. I was as entranced by his globes as Anna was with Count Vronsky. They were smooth and he quivered each time I nuzzled against them. He gladly returned the favor cementing an evening both intellectually and sexually stimulating.
The last passage of Anna Karenina is one I turn to often – the eloquence, like its author is truly timeless.
‘I shall still be as unable to understand with my reason why I pray, and I shall still go on praying; but my life now, my whole life apart from anything that can happen to me, every minute of it is no more meaningless, as it was before, but it has the positive meaning of goodness, which I have the power to put into it.’
To accompany large smooth balls or Russian literature, one simply has to have vodka. The initial jolt followed by the warm sensations as the liquid makes its way down the throat is Russia itself – mysterious, intimidating, and glorious
Cover of Anna Karenina (Signet Classics)
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eatingandforking 
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