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Becoming a Philosopher 19
Martin and I had been living in Carlo's former apartment for a year already when I got an email from Carlo's father, Mr Rossi, inviting me to visit his family in Verona. He would cover the expenses and take care of the visa arrangements. I wrote back and thanked him and asked why he wanted me to come. He said that his family hadn't come to grips with Carlo's death and they wanted to be with someone who had been close to Carlo. It sounded strange to me, but I assumed that the lack of closure might be behind things.
Martin and I discussed the invitation over breakfast. Martin had made a Spanish omelette and we sat eating it at the window overlooking the mountains of Stellenbosch in the distance. But, you couldn't see much through the smog that morning. Things were quiet in the apartment as Marisa had moved out with very little notice and was living with a guy she met who owned a coffee shop. Martin was wearing his sleep shorts and my eyes drifted over his chest to his beautiful blue eyes.
Martin was a gentle person, a person who watched more than he spoke. He had met Carlo's father but also had no idea why he would want me to go to Verona. Carlo's dad had taken a leave of absence from the diplomatic service and he and his wife were still trying to make sense of things. Carlo's older brother, Franco had become a Franciscan priest and had asked to be assigned to Verona to be near his parents. He had been working in Jordan and was studying Arabic.
Martin and I weren't rushing off to morning lectures and I asked him to join me in the shower after breakfast. I was excited to be alone with Martin. When he got up to clear the breakfast table, I saw the tent his dick made in his sleep shorts. I turned on the shower, and we stripped and began washing each other. I shampooed his hair and washed his arse area and poured the pine-scented shower gel over his back and soaped. He did the same to me. Martin pushed me against the shower wall and kissed the back of his neck. I felt his erect dick bouncing against my arse cheeks. I turned and kissed him. He stuck a finger in my hole and loosened me up. I felt him pushing his dick into my hole and I relaxed to make his entry easier. I squirmed a little and he asked if I was okay, and I told him to go for it.
Martin's thrusts became more rhythmic, and I enjoyed the feeling of him in me. My arms were stretched above me against the wall and his hands gripped my hips firmly. I couldn't control myself and started shooting my load onto the shower wall. I then felt Martin's dick throbbing in my arse and him breathing more irregularly as he came. We had done this so many times before, but somehow this felt more special. He wrapped his arms around me, held me tight and whispered how much he loved me. I dropped to my knees and sucked on his semi-erect dick, tasting the last of his cum.
On the plane to Italy, I thought a lot about Carlo. I hadn't known him for long, but he was engaging someone, when I picked him up at Cape Town Airport he came across as a convivial person.
I landed in Amsterdam at around midday and transferred to a flight to Verona. I was distracted by the aroma of freshly brewed espresso which mingled with the scent of baked pastries, which I had imagined were the flavours of Italy.
I caught a taxi to the train station where Mr Rossi met me. The city was a blend of history, culture, and the bustling energy of a modern Italian city. The station itself, Stazione Verona Porta Nuova, was a grand structure with an impressive façade adorned with columns and arches, reflecting the architectural style of the early 20th century.
Mr Rossi hugged me and kissed me on the cheeks and thanked me for coming. I first got to know Verona through Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" and couldn't wait to explore the city. The towering medieval walls that encircled the historic centre, were a reminder of Verona's rich past as a powerful city-state.
Mr Rossi told me about Verona's most iconic landmark, the Arena di Verona, an ancient Roman amphitheatre that dominated the skyline. He explained that it was a well-preserved structure that was a testament to the city's rich history and enduring cultural heritage.
As we made our way to his home he enquired about Cape Town and political developments in the country. He wanted to know more about my flatmate and my studies at UCT. There was sadness in his voice when he spoke about Carlo and his architectural studies.
Carlo's mother had prepared an early dinner. Franco had come over to join us. I couldn't get over how much he looked like his brother. I would have sworn that they were twins. Franco had been based in Jordan, not far from Madaba, and had only recently returned to the city. Later that evening, we sat on the veranda which had magnificent views of the city. Mr Rossi asked me why I thought he had invited me to Verona. He told me that he had so many answered questions and missed his son so much.
I explained how I had responded to Carlo's advert on campus advertising the apartment. I thought that he might have been a Carlo I had met at a Scout camp, but when I met Carlo at the Student Union, I immediately saw that this was not the Drakensberg Carlo. There were similarities between them: they were both Italian, had long brown hair, and brown eyes, and their fathers worked for the Italian Consulate. I found out that Carlo Rossi had met the other Carlo a while back and that his family had since returned to Italy.
Carlo then called me from Verona at Christmas, and he told me that he was looking forward to sharing the apartment with me and that he hoped that we could do some hiking around Cape Town.
I picked up Carlo at the airport when he came back to South Africa and drove him to the apartment, which was close to the university in an old building. I remember how surprised I was to see the huge rooms. He showed me my room which had a wonderful view towards Stellenbosch, and I immediately knew that it would be a great space to live in.
He had already stripped down to his boxers to keep cool in the unbearable heatwave Cape Town was going through. I got a chance to look at his well-developed body. His tousled, chestnut-brown hair framed his face adorned with warm, expressive hazel eyes that reflected both curiosity and a zest for life. Carlo's olive-toned skin carried the sun-kissed glow of his Mediterranean heritage, radiating vitality.
I moved my stuff in the next day. There was a bookshelf and a single bed in the room already, and I brought a table, a desk lamp, bedding, towels, and a comfortable chair. I had to share a single bathroom across the hallway that Carlo kept very clean. The kitchen was well-equipped and even had a dishwasher.
Carlo and I soon found our rhythm in the apartment, and we took turns making supper. We didn't have many spoken rules, but we kept the bathroom and kitchen clean and respected each other's space. Once a week we went on long walks on a beach or on a trail together where we would catch up and speak about world affairs. I was attracted to Carlo, but with Matt's death and Sven's breakdown, I kept things cool. Carlo had spoken about a girlfriend he had in Italy, so I wasn't exactly sure if he was bi or gay, but I did get a sense that he liked me. Now and then he would put his hand on my shoulder or touch my hand and he once touched my thigh.
I told Mr Rossi that the trouble started one night. We had enjoyed an evening at the Wine Society where one of the local wine estates had brought a range of their new wines to taste. We were fortunate that the young winemaker accompanied the tasting team to his old university. Carlo commented:
"Isn't he simply stunning, I wouldn't mind going home with him tonight."
He was good-looking and incredibly charismatic, and Carlo made sure he got to introduce himself and told Wynand about his relative's wine farm back in Italy. I had never noticed Carlo flirt before, and he went a little overboard that night. After a couple of glasses of wine, Carlo and I walked back to our apartment.
Mr Rossi said that he suspected Carlo was gay, but that Carlo was very discreet, and that he certainly hadn't told his parents anything. However, after the murder, they were able to piece things together. I went on to explain that we visited Wynand and his wife on the wine farm, and that Carlo was developing strategies to get together with him. I told him how I had warned Carlo against getting involved with a married couple. I told him that Carlo had serval meetings with him, but that I was only aware of one and that I became aware that Wynand had moved into the apartment when I was on a trip to Sweden.
I had told Carlo to open his eyes, and that things could become very complicated and messy. Wynand and Marisa were newly married and were talking about starting a family. I also warned him that he barely knew him. My friend Matt had such good ways of putting things, he would say: `When the little head gets hard, the big head gets soft.' I suggested that he step back and think about things.
Mr Rossi shook his head, tears filled his eyes and he sobbed saying: "Il mio Carlo, Il mio Carlo." He then asked me if I had any idea why this young man would want to kill Carlo. I told him that I didn't have answers and I could just guess. Mr Rossi took out a bottle of limoncello which we enjoyed before going to bed.
It seemed strange to sleep in Carlo's bedroom. It had posters of buildings on the walls and a small collection of architectural books. There were a couple of buildings made of Lego on the bookshelf and his cupboard was still filled with his clothes and his shoes, and the smell of his clothes brought back memories of Carlo.
That night I dreamt of the Drakensberg Carlo in December. The first dream was so vivid. I had made my bed between Matt and Carlo and then we stripped naked and spent a few moments admiring the qualities of each other's erect cocks in the dim light. Carlo's dick was certainly the biggest and he kissed me and Matt and told us how he had looked forward to some fun. Carlo had fooled around in Italy with guys but hadn't done anything in South Africa yet. He went down and sucked my cock first and then switched to Matt. He was good at it and knew how to do it well, but I did have to get him to be a bit quieter.
I couldn't wait to get his fat bulbous head into my mouth. He tasted good and was oozing loads of precum. Matt had my cock in his mouth, and I was so worked up I could have shot then. Carlo was a good kisser, and he took turns to kiss Matt and me. Carlo organised us into a daisy chain and we all sucked each other happily `til we came. Carlo shot off a huge load and I swallowed it. It tasted slightly different from Matt's maybe just a little sweeter, but most of all I enjoyed feeling his cock against my back as I fell asleep.
The next day Carlo's brother, Franco, showed me around Verona. Franco explained that Italian cities are among the most beautiful and most visited in Europe. Most of these cities had a fascinating history, centuries-old architecture, a unique mix of old and new, and a lively, chaotic atmosphere. Italian towns and cities are just like nowhere else in the world!
Franco said it was Shakespeare's `Romeo and Juliet' that made the city famous, and he believed that Verona was probably Italy's most romantic city. He showed me the location of the Adige River, and how the medieval town is a bit like a mini version of Rome. The Roman amphitheatre Arena di Verona was built in the 1st century, and in a way, it's even more impressive because it's better preserved, and it's not as crowded as the Colosseum. He also showed me where they organised incredible concerts in the space.
We enjoyed a great pasta in a tiny restaurant and Franco took me home to have dinner with his parents. Some people recognised Franco and called him Padre. He was in his early thirties and wore khaki shorts and a golf shirt. He had a pair of sunglasses on and didn't look like a priest. Mrs Rossi made a wonderful meal. Risotto with Tastasal is a typical dish of Veronese and Veneto cuisine, and this risotto is made of minced pork, salted and peppered. Mrs Rossi told me that the meaning of the word "tastasal" is just "taste the salt" in Venetian dialect and that this recipe was prepared to check that the meat used for sausages and salamis was properly salted.
I was falling asleep in Carlo's bed when I was woken up by a knock at the door. Franco whispered and asked if he could come in. He came and sat on the bed and asked if he could get into bed with me. I was a little taken aback but said it would be fine. He spooned against my back and had his over my chest. He told me how much he loved his brother and how he missed him. He had fooled around with his brother since he was ten and loved the intimacy. He told me that they often would sleep together and that they would have sex. He explained how guilty he felt, and that he eventually joined the seminary to get out of the situation. Carlo's death got him thinking about his sexuality again and explained how difficult he found being celibate. He was particularly attracted to older teens, but he had never given to his desires. I felt his erect dick pressing on my lower back and I too was aroused.
I told Franco that Carlo and I didn't have much sex together. But I remembered the first time when we sat together drinking on the couch and I could see the tent in his pants, I was hard too, and I felt a kind of energy between us, maybe a bit more of the Wonka magic that Carlo brought with him. After three months of restraint, I leaned over and kissed Carlo and tasted the stickiness left by the limoncello. Carlo moved closer wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I ran my hands over his muscular chest. We stripped, and I finally got a close-up view of his dick. He was hard, not too long but he had good girth. I couldn't restrain myself any longer and took his sweaty dick into my mouth. He tasted good and I eagerly moved up and down his shaft playing with his head and foreskin. He pushed me off and began to suck me. His mouth was warm, and he was an expert. I soon stopped him, as I didn't want to cum too quickly.
Carlo took me by the hand, and we went to shower together, kissing and wanking and sucking. I don't think that shower had ever experienced so much sensuality before. Carlo and I swallowed each other's cum, and I think we both knew that things would be different in our relationship from then on.
Franco's hand slipped down, and he slowly started to wank me. He kissed the back of my neck at the same time. That was the first time I had sex with a priest, and Carlo's brother reminded me so much of him. He slipped out of bed afterward and returned to his room. The next morning Mr Rossi woke me up with a cup of coffee, and I hoped he couldn't smell the sex that happened the night before. He asked me please to take some of Carlo's clothes home with me and said that this would make him so happy.