BEACH TALES by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006 written on October 23 rd 1994 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Brian
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"BEACH TALES" 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 6 - IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
The Balzini are a really close family - father, mother and two sons, Carlo nineteen and Luca seventeen years old. Each summer they all go together to the sea, where their father was born, and where, in the small town center, they have a small house with a narrow strip of garden. The two boys have their bedroom on the ground floor, on the side towards the small garden, their parents upstairs.
Carlo is secretly gay. He realised it when he was fifteen. He doesn't have a boyfriend. When his yen is too strong, he goes out with the pretext to meet his friends but instead he goes to cruise - as he is a handsome boy he almost always finds someone who hooks him and takes him home. Carlo likes being fucked a lot, and giving juicy blowjobs as well. If someone gives him head, he is happy with that, but he doesn't ask for it. Being him the top, doesn't really appeal to him so much.
The previous year he had been afraid that Luca suspected something - he asked him odd questions. Nothing really direct, but... Far too intimate. At a certain point, as Luca didn't stop and he was more and more embarrassed and in difficulty, he slapped Luca on his face and said, stop this talk about fags - he hated fags!
Afterwards he repented for his harsh reaction, for having hurt Luca's feelings, he liked his brother... Anyway Luca, having a good character, sulked just a couple of days, then everything went back to normal.
Certainly he cannot go cruising there at the sea town, it's too small and everybody knows everybody. Therefore at times, in the evening, spread naked on his bed, he masturbates dreaming improbable adventures. He doesn't lack fantasy.
One evening he is spread on his bed in the dark as usual, stark naked, his legs well parted, his eyes closed and he is slowly masturbating savoring, enjoying every moment of the sensations he is giving himself. All of a sudden he hears a slight noise at the window - he opens his eyes and sees a silhouette standing out in the faint light coming from the street.
He jumps sitting up and asks with a worried voice: "Who are you?"
The silhouette is slender, it seems to be a naked man, and he catches a glimpse of a swimsuit with black and white stripes, and voluminous, curly hair.
The silhouette says: "Shush!" and jumps inside without a noise, and approaches the bed.
Carlo, is still unconsciously holding his member tight in his fist, but when he sees the silhouette approaching, is about to jump off his bed.
The intruder pushes in the center of his chest repeating: "Shush!" and his hand lowers to finger between Carlo's legs.
"What the hell..." Carlo says with choked voice.
The hand gropes his genitals. Carlo tries to push it away from himself. But the silhouette (he can't single out its features, but it is evident he is a male, and a young one) bends his head on Carlo's lap and before he could say another word, vigorously starts sucking him.
"Oooh..." Carlo exclaims but becomes still. The other gives him head, and is skilled. "Ooooh..." Carlo moans and starts to relax, excited. The other teases his nipples. "Oooooh..." Carlo murmurs while he again lies down, surrendering to the pleasure that the intruder is giving him. "Oh yeah..." Carlo sighs starting to caress the man's back bending over him.
The other is giving him an intense pleasure. Whoever he could be...he is not a burglar, evidently, as he feared for a moment at first... or at most he is a sex burglar... Whoever he is... he is really skilled, a real professional....
The intruder pulls off his swimsuit and climbs on the bed on his knees. So Carlo catches a glimpse of his straight rod, big, he shudders with pleasure, he wants that pole inside himself.... He spreads his legs between which the stranger (benefactor) knelt. Carlo's raises his legs to his chest in a clear offer that doesn't need words to be understood. But the intruder continues to give him head, he doesn't seem to understand.
"Fuck me!" Carlo begs in a very low but clearly audible voice. "Fuck me, go on!" he repeats seized by a really strong yen.
The stranger abandons Carlo's member, seizes his buttocks with his two hands, raises them up a little, spreading them, approaches them with his beautiful clapper.
"Wait..." Carlo whispers, he takes his spit with his fingers and lubes his hole carefully, two, three times: "Go on!" he whispers then, lying down again and waiting with longing.
The stranger moves forward, aims decidedly on the target, and starts to push.
"Ooooh!" Carlo moans feeling he is happily spread open.
"Shush!" the other intimates, and resumes pushing.
It is really fantastic, the ideal size, Carlo thinks, not too big not too small, not too short nor too long... and it is entering so smoothly, brushing the walls of his hot channel enough to give pleasure and not the lesser annoyance. And what a good feeling!
His unexpected, but welcome visitor, is now completely inside him. He stops, settles better, and instead of starting to move back and forth, he starts to rotate his hips in a perfect circle, giving him an incredible pleasure. Fucking hell, isn't he skilled! Carlo is literally enraptured. Such a fucker is worth... the Nobel Prize for poetry!
The welcome guest's hands touch Carlo with art on his most sensitive points and meanwhile the strong, sweet meat pestle vigorously grinds in his deepness, throwing him into raptures. He had never been fucked so nicely, Carlo thinks feeling as if in heaven. He caresses the strong slender body that is giving him so much pleasure. And he vaguely asks himself who could be that artist of the fuck.
He shudders, tosses, trembles with the pleasure, while he caresses the vigorous body, the sound legs and looks at the curls, just slightly ruffled, waving on the head of his dominator. He feels like being in a dream, he is so excited, happy. He feels the unknown visitor stiffening, vibrating like a bell, then he feels he is contracting and finally starting to fire inside him broadsides of lava, sprouts of magma, and at last Carlo too cumms, so intense is his pleasure.
Then the other slips out, gives him a last light caress, nimbly and fast quits the bed, puts on his swim trunks with the wide black and white stripes, and goes to the window.
"No, wait, who are you?" Carlo asks sitting up on his bed, but the other is already on the windowsill.
"No, wait, I want to know you..." Carlo whispers, jumping out of his bed and running to the window.
He leans out - there is nobody! How is it possible? Where did he disappear? He looks and looks again but there is no track of the apparition. Besides the pleasurable sensation still lingering in his lower back. He caresses it, perplexed (but also happy), he again looks under, to the left, to the right, upwards, and then goes back to his bed.... Who could that silent visitor be?
He has difficulty falling asleep - he is trying to understand. That silhouette seems vaguely familiar to him, but who has such a mane of dark, curly hair? And mainly, who has that fabulous clapper that made him enjoy so much? Well, it is not that he knows the size of the member of other people. It is ages he didn't see either that of his little brother....
Somebody, here in the village, guessed about him.... To enter his bedroom so confidently, somebody he knows well.... But why didn't he want to stay, to tell him his name, to be recognized? He would pave roads with gold for him, he would give himself to that man without reservations....
The next day after that's all he can think about. His brother sees he is thoughtful and asks him what's up.
"Nothing." He answers somewhat bothered. Happily Luca doesn't insist.
In the evening, he waits. During the night he almost doesn't sleep and wakes up at the faintest noise, hoping it is the visitor of the night before. But dawn comes and nothing happens. Why didn't he come? What restrained him? He has to discover who he is, to tell him he knows, and he wants him again....
All day long Carlo looks carefully. Beginning with his friends, but then also people he barely knows, then even unknown people... Possibly he was a temerarious tourist.... But nobody has that mane of curly hair, nobody goes around with a swimming trunk of wide black and white stripes, nobody looks at him in a peculiar way... About his body, he was a little bigger than his brother, a little taller. About his own body size, he could say. It is not that he could see clearly his body. But he clearly saw the silhouette, it was clear. He couldn't distinguish the features of his face, besides the peculiar light shining in the stranger's eyes while he was fucking him.
He could possibly never come again, Carlo thinks sadly in the evening when he hits his bed. He looks almost with longing at the wide-open window, with desire... He falls asleep at two 'o clock.
He wakes up with a start - he is here, and he is giving him head!
"You came again..." Carlo says filled with joy and trying to sit up.
"Shush!" the other says peremptorily and pushes him back down.
Carlo looks and notices that the other has already pulled off his swimsuit. He stretches out his hand and fingers the sweet, vigorous clapper already fully erect. He pulls it gently towards himself, wants to suck it. The other guesses, climbs astride his chest and shows him his powerful weapon that he hastens to lick, kiss, suck with noisy slurps.
"Shush!" the other orders.
Then the stranger slips out from his lips and wedges himself between Carlo's legs. He understands and readily raises them. The other bends down his head and licks his palpitating hole, thoroughly lubing it with his spit. Carlo shudders all over. The curls tickle pleasurably his raised thighs. Then the other sits up again - he is ready. Carlo holds his breath.... The other sinks vigorously inside him... and at once he is in paradise. The flesh tool unceasingly plows deep furrows of incredible pleasure inside him.
But, when it's all over, he uselessly tries to hold him back, uselessly asks him again to stay, to tell him who he is... he disappears.
Carlo is determined to discover who he could be. His imagination suggests a plan -to him - he can certainly not try to block him, to fight with him - his parents could hear, think it a burglar, come downstairs and it would be more than embarrassing and also silly. He would lose the man forever. And neither he can switch on the light, as the switch is near the door, far from the bed. An electric torch... But if that young man doesn't want to be recognized, would be pissed off and would never come to fuck him again... No, he will not beat him with strength, but with astuteness.
The day after he goes to a paint shop - he asks for indelible ink for fabric.
"Does it stain skin also?"
"Yes," the shop assistant answers, "you have to wear rubber gloves. Anyway in three four days, if you wash yourself with a strong detergent, it goes away from the skin."
"Good." Carlo says satisfied.
The small jar of oily ink in his pocket, he goes back home feeling cheerful.
That evening he prepares on the bedside table a small dish with a few drops of the colorant in it - a beautiful, intense violet. While the stranger is enjoying himself, he will put a finger in the ink and touch the other's back. So the following day...
But the stranger doesn't show up that evening. Neither on the following nor the third. Carlo doesn't give up hope, and each evening he carefully prepares the little dish. He feels the stranger will come again.
In fact on the following day, in the deep of the night, he is again waken up in the same pleasurable way. All proceeds splendidly. When the stranger at last takes him, before completely losing his self-control (as he knows it will happen) he puts his plan in action. The stranger is marked. He can now abandon himself to fully enjoy him and his wonderful fuck! Satisfied, he lets himself go to the marvelous sensations that the unknown visitor is able to give him.
The stranger is taking him with vigor, skillfully tosses inside him, Carlo is enjoying him and feels that also that young man is fully enjoying his ass. He brushes the stranger's nipples, caresses his body that rhythmically darts on him. It is a young, manly body, more than pleasurable. The young man hammers inside him at the right rhythm and with the right energy, so that the fuck lasts a good while. Carlo puts both his hands on the small, firm butts of his passionate fucker and enjoys feeling his muscles dart at each thrust. And finally the stranger fills him again with his hot cream with few powerful thrusts that Carlo enjoys, and he too cumms, without even having touched his own member.
As usual the stranger rapidly and silently goes away. Carlo doesn't even try to hold him back, this time. He smiles to himself and falls asleep almost at once, satisfied.
The following morning Carlo has a violet stain on the tip of his right index finger. He carefully washes it, for a long while - it barely bleaches out, becoming of a maroon color, or rather of an eggplant color. But it is still perfectly visible.
"What happened to your finger?" His brother asks him.
"Nothing. It is just ink. An old fountain pen..."
"Ah..." his brother says, swallowing the lie.
On the beach everybody goes around half naked - Carlo carefully looks at everybody's back, especially the ones with curly hair, but also at those who have just wavy hair - The unknown night visitor could in fact have back-combed his hair not to be recognized. He of course just didn't consider people with straight hair like himself or his brother. But nobody shows any trace of the violet ink on his back.
He doesn't give up easily. Sooner or later he will discover who he is. Yes, he really had the right idea.... The day passes. In the evening he is back home. They have their supper. Then he goes to shower. He will discover it tomorrow and if need be he will mark him again, he thinks. The colorant on his index finger is still clearly visible.
"Carlo, hurry up, I too have to shower!" Luca's voice says from outside.
"Yes, just a moment, I'm almost done...." Carlo shouts, somewhat annoyed.
He goes out, Luca enters. He wears just his shorts and rubber slippers. And on his bare back Carlo sees the violet mark!
While the bathroom door closes, Carlo remains still and feels his head spin. It is not possible, his hair... moreover he doesn't have any swimming trunks in wide black and white strips... and then he was of a bigger size... But that mark, right on the spot he touched... of that very color... And this would explain how he could disappear so rapidly - he just had to slip inside the side window, that of his own room....
For several seconds he remains there still, dazed. No, it is not possible... his hair... Unless he...
He shakes himself, he goes determinedly into his brothers bedroom. He starts to rummage in his belongings. No nothing... he is hesitant, confused. He decides to search the room again, carefully, thinking of all the possible hideouts.... Where would he hide such things?
And sees, from the oddly swollen soft case of Luca's tennis racket, comes swimming trunks with wide white and black stripes, and a curly wig, dark. He recognizes it - it was the one that their mother used until a couple of years before....
He sits down all of a sudden on a chair, the two "corpus delicti" one in each hand, and looks at them lost.... So then, the fantastic fucker of the night... his brother Luca.... That's why he never uttered a single word.... That professional of the fuck, his younger brother! And yet he seemed really bigger, taller, more muscled to him... was this just his fantasy? Or the fact he saw him against the light and with very scanty light?
Anyway there is no doubt, it is evident, it is really him...
He hears the door open - Luca enters, stops dumbfounded and looks at his brother with the two accusatory objects in his hands. The two brothers look at each other for a good while. Luca keeps silent, holding back his breath... Carlo stands up, Luca visibly trembles.
Carlo goes near him, throws on his bed the two objects, pushes him aside with a severe air, goes out... but at the door he turns back and says: "Tonight, you need not use them... I'll wait for you in my room. Don't disappoint me, fucker!" and winks at him, smiles and leaves.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 7
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