A FAIRY TALE? by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006 written the 7th of March, 1993 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Vicent
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"A FAIRY TALE?" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
CHAPTER 7 - The breaking of the pact
Martino was feeling more and more sad and lonely. Vincenzo, seeing him in that state, said to him, "The world is full of handsome and good hearted boys. You'll find yours sooner or later, you'll see."
"But how? And where?"
"Well, listen. Sometimes Lino goes into gay clubs. I can't. I'm a carabiniere - if they found out, I'd be fired. He doesn't like going alone, though, so he would be really happy if you went with him. You could meet people there, make some friends."
"It isn't easy for me to go out in the evening. My father is very strict. Didn't I tell you that? He is a military man all the way, a regular career officer. He would never let me go to a disco, for instance."
"You could introduce Lino as a friend from university. He is a student after all, even if he is just a freshman. So he could ask you to go to a concert or a play, then you could do what you want."
After talking it over with Lino, they decided to give it a try. So one evening soon after, Lino called and introduced himself to Martino's father as Lino Cuccia, a friend of Martino's from college. He had two tickets for Hamlet, he said, and was wondering if Martino could go with him. To Martino's surprise the trick worked - his father gave his permission. For the first time in his life he could be out all evening and stay late. He could only go out with Lino once every two or three weeks, but he started on the rounds of gay discos and bars with his friend.
As he got to know people, he used his "vision" to choose first one, then another, using his "caress" to arouse the chosen one. On occasion this became an adventure, but it didn't take him long to realize that none of these adventures led to anything, no matter how much fun they were. They were unions devoid of affection or tenderness, just pleasant releases of pent-up desire. Good fucks, nothing more.
He tried blondes and dark-haired, tall and short, young boys and mature men, but in the end he had nothing but the memory of repeated disappointments and a still-empty bed. It seemed as if everyone was interested in nothing but having a good time, collecting experiences, venting their sexual hunger. He too was collecting experiences. When he first discovered he was gay he wanted a man, any man. Now he longed for a lover, a real lover, sincere, someone to whom he could be faithful and devoted.
Martino sank again in a kind of depression. He told Lino he was grateful, but he didn't feel like going out any more because the club scene was just not very much fun. Lino and Vincenzo tried cheering him up, abut to no avail.
Martino put his David in his pocket less and less often when he went out. The ability to see any man's cock, to make it hard from a distance, to listen in on conversations that were usually dull, in the end it was all just boring. It only meant something if a dick got hard because its owner felt attracted to you, not because it was getting some anonymous stimulation. There was no pleasure in that.
Once he used his David to "see" Lino and Vincenzo making love after he left them. He stopped watching halfway through, overcome with guilt about his spying. Even though he had not explained his "powers" to his friends, so they had no idea of what was happening, he felt that he was violating a sacred trust and a beautiful intimacy.
Watching his two well-formed and healthy male friends undressing each other had him really aroused. How could he fail to admire Vincenzo's straight, solid cock, smooth as silk and hard as a steel pole (he assumed), rising up at the sight of his beloved's nude form. He watched as Vincenzo offered himself to Lino's hungry lips, as Lino leaned forward with desire and received it gratefully, then savored that ripe fruit with half-closed eyes, seized by an intense joy, the joy of giving pleasure to his lover. It was beautiful seeing Lino welcoming that fierce, circumcised member, barely managing to contain it in his mouth and pushing it down his throat. It was beautiful seeing the rapture that softened Vincenzo's virile face, then seeing the young carabiniere become concerned about Lino's pleasure, turning to lick his smaller, shorter member, with raw passion doubled by love.
Yes, it was love, that was evident in all the two lovers did - in their glances, in their moves. Through their pleasure, they were exchanging something much more precious - love.
The body of the handsome twenty-eight-year-old carabiniere was hairless but virile and strong, marked only by the sound dark nipples and the thick bush of his pubes. It was fascinating to see that body yearning, craving the smaller but still well-proportioned body of the twenty-year-old student, its belly and legs barely veiled by a light dusting of soft down, adorned by two pink nipples, sweet like buds. He saw them searching for each other, exploring, offering themselves to each other in competition. He turned away in the middle of a passionate kiss when Vincenzo, who had won their little battle, opened himself to welcome the quivering rod of his beloved, looking at him with gratitude, with joy, with desire. They were too beautiful!
Martino let the little statue fall to the bottom of his pocket and pulled out his hand. The "vision" disappeared. No, he had no right to that vision. It was not for him. It belonged to them, to the tender and passionate lovers. There was no place for him in that delicate and moving exchange, tender and virile, of a mutual gift.
Back home, Martino sat alone in his room. His father was out at another meeting. Only the housekeeper was there, in the kitchen preparing supper. Martino felt a pang in his heart. A piercing pain, sharp and penetrating, that momentarily took away his breath.
What use did he have for the powers that the David gave him? To spy on some lovers, to do violence to Carlo and to receive it from Marco, to look at males masturbating, to look at cocks and give them a hard-on, and to feel emptier, and lonely, and sad. Something snapped inside him, a deaf rage and frustration, a fury. That fury grew, swelled, became huge until it exploded in a stream of silent but burning tears.
He stood up with a new determination, went into the closet to picked up a hammer. He went back to his room, seized the little statue of David and furiously smashed it into a thousand pieces, pounding it smaller and smaller until none of the details were recognizable. He gathered the whitish crumbs of marble and threw them into the empty wastepaper basket. He heard them batter its bottom like hailstones on a roof. He noticed that he had clipped a corner of one of the marble floor tiles, but he didn't care.
Exhausted, he threw himself on his bed and fell into a deep and heavy sleep. And he dreamed...
He is sleeping in his bed, in his room, completely naked. Suddenly he hears his name being called and he wakes up. He switches on the light and looks around, but there is no one. He is about to switch off the light when the wastepaper basket moves, rolls for a while, then stops. Out of it steps the David, miraculously in one piece, and says, "Hi, Martino!"
"Hi, David." He quietly answers.
"Well, Martino, it took you long enough, but at last you understood it."
"I understood what?"
"That it is useless to have special powers. That a man has to build his life on his talents, not on magic powers. You are becoming a man, at last!"
"Yes, but it gave me a lot of pain."
"And fun, too. Admit it."
"At first. My fantasies could go with no limits."
"Fantasy is a precious thing, but has to remain just... fantasy."
"Yes, now I understand that."
"And you have to be loved for what your heart is worth, not for what you are able to do."
"Yes, I know that too, now. But besides the pain, it cost me... how many days of my life?"
"Well, you were very luck, breaking the little statue in pieces like that. You would have lost exactly three thousand seven hundred and thirty-six days. That's how many desires you expressed in these days."
"More than ten years!" Martino exclaims amazed, but he is not scared.
"Yes, ten years, two months and twenty-three days. But you were lucky, as I told you. You broke me in three thousand seven hundred and thirty-four small pieces, one more piece than the days, and that was the only way to cancel the contract. So everything is as it was before, Martino. You haven't lost any days at all. Besides that, you have matured. You must have an angel up there protecting you."
"But I'm all alone just the same", says Martino sadly.
"Well, that depends entirely on you... Good bye, Martino."
The noise of the door slamming jolted Martino awake. His father was back. He had to find him at his desk studying, not in his bed sleeping, or else he would be in trouble. He rapidly got out of the bed and was sitting at his desk in front of an open book when his father, as usual, knocked at his door and entered without waiting for an answer.
"Are you all right?" his father asked.
"Yes, dad, I'm OK."
"You must be tired, Martino, spending the whole day on your books. You don't even go out with Lino any more..."
Martino looked at his father, taken aback. "I'm a little tired, but..."
"Anita will be calling us for supper soon. Leave your books and come on into the drawing room and have an appetizer with me."
Martino followed him, hardly daring to breathe. On his way out he saw the wastepaper basket tipped over on the floor. He set it right, then heard a soft thud. When he looked in he saw the statue of the David, all in one piece, ten inches tall again, lying on the bottom. He could not believe his eyes. He reached out and picked up the statue. It was perfect, completely untouched. There on the floor was the broken tile, with the hammer lying nearby. Gently he placed the little statue under the lamp on his desk, switched off the light and followed his father. As the meal went on he realized that his father had not really changed; he still had the dry and authoritarian character of a career officer. It's just that he was now treating Martino as an adult. He finally felt what it was like to be regarded as a man.
Martino resumed his normal and quiet life, without special powers. He continued to meet Lino and Vincenzo, proof that it was not all a dream. He studied hard, getting along well even without his special photographic memory. From time to time he looked at his David and winked at him. He was still alone, but now it was easier to bear.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 8
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