DEAR EUGENIO 4
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"DEAR EUGENIO" 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.
DEAR EUGENIO
by Andrej Koymasky © 2018
written on April 30th 1991
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by Paul
FOUR
I met Andrea during my last year at high school. I was eighteen.
Andrea was, how do I say, the second stage of my sexual and psychological maturity. Then he was twenty-one, tall, had light brown hair, hazelnut eyes in a shadow of green, and a rather handsome body. Two things about him fascinated me, or rather three - his luminous smile, his serene character, and his perfect genitals. I shall refer to them in chronological order.
I met him at the riding centre. He trained like myself over jumps, but was already professional horseman. We immediately got on well together and became friends. I took him to meet grandma, who took to him immediately. Grandma introduced him to the D'Inzeo brothers, the Italian riding champions of that time, and put Andrea under their protective wing. I told you before, that grandma always used to make an extra effort to help those she liked. Anyway, for the first three months, we were just good friends. I felt attracted to him from the first moment I saw him, and not just a little. In the showers I always had to be very careful to cover my front with a towel, so that he didn't notice my state of arousal. He never covered himself, though. The showers were of individual boxes, aligned on a wall and separated by ground glass dividers. They had no doors. Through the translucent glass it was possible to make out enough, and I could guess when he was washing his member. It was then that I had those incredible, embarrassing and pleasurable erections.
One day, after about three months, we came out of our boxes and he said, lightly smiling: "There is nobody here, now! You can pull your towel away! You aren't shy around me by any chance, are you? We are friends!"
I think I blushed, because, always with his light smile, he said: "What's wrong if you have an hard on? I'm not scandalised by them. We all get them, and when it comes, it comes!"
Even if somewhat ashamed, I pulled away my towel. He looked me, "Yes, well shaped like all the rest. You are a handsome boy, Max. Who knows how many people have told you so. Girls must lose their heads for you."
I didn't know what to say or what to do. His staring, straight at my erect member, seemed almost to paralyse me.
He stretched out his hand, brushed it against me, almost in a caress then said: "You really are beautiful, Max. Do you know that you could even make some boys lose their heads, too?"
I remained still, somewhat ill at ease. His hand caressed once more my tense member, then glided his hand upwards to caress my belly, my chest. I shuddered.
He looked into my eyes, with a warmer smile, and murmured: "You like it, right? Yes, I can feel you like the way I'm touching you. And I too like very much touching you and... I'd like you to touch me. You see, I don't lie - mine also is awakening. Do you like my body, Max?"
I just had the force to nod in assent, and swallowed with difficulty.
"Touch me, then. Touch it, Max. Just a caress, I'm not asking you for more, for now..."
I touched it and shivered with pleasure. He too shuddered.
"Let's stop, for now. Let's get dressed. It's not possible to do much more here."
The enchantment ended. But while I was dressing, I thought to those two "for nows" he mentioned. They were a promise for future pleasure, a declaration of desire, of that I had no doubt.
I was bending to tie my shoes when he approached me from behind and pulled me backwards girdling my chest with his arms. I could feel him adhering against my back as he kissed my neck, lightly bit my earlobe. He whispered, his voice filled with sensuality: "Come to my hotel. They will not raise objections if I take a boy back to my room. I want to make love with you, Max, I'm dying for it."
I felt my legs tremble; I felt shivering from head to toe. Then I perceived his erection pushing against my bottom and felt I was all melting. With one hand he brushed my nipple through the fabric of my shirt, and with the other he explored between my legs.
"You do fancy making love with me, don't you Max? Tell me I'm right!"
"You're... you're right." I murmured, my voice hoarse with emotion.
"Then, tell me you want to make love with me." he alluringly whispered.
"I want... to make love with you, Andrea." I murmured with difficulty, more and more upset.
"Tell me you want to be mine, go on..."
"Yes... I want to be yours..."
"Tell me you want me to fuck you."
I stiffened for a moment and he loosened his hold. Turning to face him with my eyes almost dimmed from the charge of sensuality that was bursting within me, I asked him: "Do you want... put it in my back?"
"Yes, sure. I'm really longing for that. You have a delicious little ass."
"I don't think that... I never did that... I..."
"Even more exciting. I will be the first."
"But just faggots take it... there. I... I am no faggot." I weakly protested, but I was conscious that, if he just insisted, I would have allowed him to do it even there, in the manege lockers. Such an erotic charge emanated from him that completely subdued me.
"No, Max. You are not a faggot - if you were I wouldn't like you. Males like you and I can take it there. It is good."
"You... did you take it there before?"
"Yes, sure. And more than once."
"And... and do you like it?"
"I like it. And I would willingly let you do it to me."
"But... but doesn't it hurt?"
"Sometimes, at first, a little. Or it just annoys, the first times. But then, little by little, one becomes used and it feels good, really good. Don't be afraid, Max, I surely don't want to hurt you. Especially now that I know that your nice little ass is still a virgin, I'm longing to put it all inside you. I will go gently, you'll see. Trust me, Max. I'm your friend, you know that."
"Yes, I know. I trust you. And... I liked before feeling it pushing... back there..."
"Therefore you will like it even more when we are naked on my bed. Come, Max, I have been waiting for this moment for three long months. I swear I'll be able to make you happy to say yes."
He smiled to me and I was done to a turn.
"It's a pity we wasted three months. But we will make up for the lost time, be sure." he said taking my face in his hands.
He kissed my mouth - how good he was at kissing! It was a first taste of what was waiting me. He put his arm on my shoulders, we took our kit bags, went to his car and proceeded to his hotel. I was a little shy of the concierge, but he quietly greeted us and we went upstairs. In his room, we put down our bags and Andrea took up his position in front of me, we embraced and kissed me again. He started to undress me.
"You too, Max, undress me..."
I complied. He undressed me slowly, touching, caressing, kissing me and I tried to follow suit, almost swoon. Everything happened slowly, in a kind of delicious torment. At last we both were naked.
He drew back one step and said: "Ask me to caress you."
It was not an order, but like a suggestion, or a prayer and in part also a game, terribly erotic. I asked him. He smiled, drew again nearer and started to caress me all over my body.
After a while, I asked him: "May I too caress you?"
"Yes, go on. Caress me you too..."
As he was moving his hands all over my body, I started to now brush him, to now touch him more strongly, feeling him, almost massaging him. I lingered some more on the points that gave him more pleasure, but only after going around them barely brushing him. It was like a rite, slow, solemn, where the mutual excitement grew, little by little but relentlessly.
"Tell me what you feel, what you think." he suggested.
"Yes. I like feeling your magic hands on my body, on my skin. It is like as if you have lit a fire inside me. I feel all ablaze, hot. You have a manly body, beautiful. Your skin is like silk. I like your strong chest, your sensitive nipples, these hairs, not too many, that seem velvet. And the forest here on your groin, I like to glide my fingers through it. And your firm, warm pole, I like feeling it throb in my hand..." I continued to say and was aware that these words said aloud added a magic dimension to what we were doing, increased the intensity of my sensations.
He had slowly guided me towards the bed, and we went on it, still close but not yet united. While we continued to touch each other, and I to talk, we also started to feel all over our bodies with our lips, our tongues, lingering in the more sensitive spots. Now we were kneeling on the bed, one in front of the other. He again embraced me, and our caresses, our kisses became more ardent, more passionate. He made me lie on my side and he took up position in front of me, upside down. We connected very tightly in a wonderful sixty-nine, his belly against my chest, my belly against his'. What he did to me, I did to him, like a diligent pupil, grateful for the pleasure he gave me, and proud for the pleasure I was able to give him.
He left my member, inserted his head between my thighs making me spread them and glided down to suckle and lick my testicles, then further down, further down, until I felt his tongue rummaging between my buttocks, reach my little hole, licking its rims and darting in its centre. I let escape a long pleasurable moan. My little hole throbbed and surrendered to his tongue, like his own, that in my turn I reached, was surrendering to my tongue. I never before felt such sensations, and I thought they were wonderful. He worked me for a long while, penetrating me with the tip of his tongue, then he replaced it with his finger wet with saliva, and started to push it inside me, a little more inside, a little more deeper. I noticed that I was receiving it in me with pleasure, with an unknown and intense eagerness. I felt his stiff member palpitating against my throat like mine against his. He continued for a long while, alternating his tongue and his finger, his tongue and two fingers, then three until he felt I was relaxed and ready.
Then he raised me to my knees, my legs spread and my chest against the sheets, my pelvis well risen, and he knelt between my legs. From a jar he found I don't know where, he took with his finger some cream and spread it on my hole, around and inside, and I shuddered with pleasure each time that finger penetrated to lube me, each time deeper. He moved it up and down, then around, then back and forth and in these movements, pleasurable in themselves, at times he touched a spot that made me become mad with pleasure. That skilled massage was arousing me in an incredible way. I felt the desire to be penetrated, and not just by a finger, increase in me, clear, explicit, unequivocal, imperious.
"Andrea, put it in." I begged.
"What do you want me to put in?" he provocative asked.
"Your... your thing." I murmured somewhat shy but full of yen.
"Tell me what I have to do..." he insisted with a warm and accomplice tone.
"Screw me, fuck me, bugger me" I almost shouted.
"Yes, Max, as you like... in a while..."
And finally I felt his member leaning on my hole, tossing, brushing, pushing a little. I wanted it inside, so I pushed back but he too went back enough not to lose contact but not to penetrate me.
Then he started lightly pushing: "Let do to me, Max, don't have hurry. I don't want to hurt you. Little by little..."
He started again to titillate me, to tease me with the firm tip of his warm pole against my throbbing door. The pressure was increasing and I could feel it opening its way little by little, and I was happy to receive it. He slipped inside me, one millimeter after the other, with an exasperating slowness. He opened me up, invaded me, I could feel it, big, powerful, decided, inexorable. I felt also an annoyance feeling, a light pain, but the pleasure was such and so much that I didn't care at all. I felt it sinking in me, dilating me, press strong and hot. I had the sensation it was even bigger and longer of what I remembered. I was feeling it shudder, throb, and continue to slowly sink inside me. His hands, tight around my waist, kept me still. And finally I felt his tense belly pressed against my bottom, his pubic hair against my buttocks, his testicles almost pressed against mine and I knew he was, at last, completely inside me.
He stopped, remained still a while, then asked: "Do you feel pain, Max?"
"Doesn't matter, I like it."
"If it hurts, tell me, so I can stop."
"No, please, fuck me, Andrea."
"As you like, Max, as you like..."
He embraced my chest crossing his arms and seizing my shoulders with his hands near my neck, he held me tight against his chest making me rise my trunk. Now we both were kneeling, I in front and he on my back, and I had him completely inside me! I pushed back my arms and put my hands on his buttocks, pulling him further against me. Then he, kissing and lightly biting my neck, started to slowly move back and forth his pelvis. I felt his breath on my neck, his strong hands, his arms locking me, but above all his pole pistoning inside me. It was beautiful, beautiful, incredibly beautiful! His member massaged inside me giving me intense pleasure shudders, so that I almost didn't notice any more my sore sphincter. My member was turgid, erect, and throbbed strongly at each of his thrusts.
"Do you like it, Max?" he asked me in an excited whisper.
"Yes... yeees!"
Now his rhythm increased to a faster pace. He gave more and more short but fast strokes, with energy. Our breathing became faster, more panting. I now was masturbating fast, with strength. His rhythm broke, became disorderly, he tensed up, gave a set of uncontrolled strokes and we reached the orgasm. I had never ejaculated with such strength, with such abundance before. His embrace loosened and he caressed my chest, my belly. I pushed against his buttocks, afraid he wanted withdraw. He understood and didn't. He continued to caress my chest, belly, thighs. Then I felt it slip out, leaving my channel.
Then Andrea whispered in my ear: "Now you take me, Max. You'll enjoy it."
"I can't..." I said shaking my head and smiling, turning towards him.
"Why? I like it, as I told you."
"I came. It's soft now!" I said, almost ashamed.
He looked between my legs: "Did you cum? Wow! I didn't realize that..."
"Yes, Andrea, It was way too good! You aroused me in an incredible way. I came a moment before you did. I have never enjoyed anything so much!"
"So, are you happy I took your cherry? Did you like it?"
"Mmmhhh, so much! Am I the first virgin boy you have taken?"
"No, the second. But I like it very much."
"More or less than with your first?"
"More, no doubt!"
"Why?"
"Because I felt you liked it and you wanted me inside you. That's beautiful. Do you feel sore?"
"A little... but I am happy."
"Me too am a little sore, do you know? You were so tight!"
"Andrea, promise me that you'll take me again."
"Sure, any time you want. But next time you have to start. You have a really beautiful rod, I want it inside me, very soon!"
Two days later, after our training at the manege, we went again to his hotel and, after the usual enjoyable preliminaries, I took Andrea. It was really pleasurable, and I understood what it means to feel desired. To sink into his hot channel, to move inside him was really great. I felt he liked it, and that increased my pleasure. Afterwards, Andrea asked me if I preferred being on top or bottom. I was not able to make a choice, I really liked very much both. So, for three months, three times per week, we made love. Until Andrea met the D'Inzeo brothers and moved to Rome with them to train at their school.
I missed him, that's clear. But the school leaving certificate tests were approaching and my engagement in my studies helped me to overcome the empty feeling that I had now that Andrea had gone away. With him, in fact, even if the relationship was mainly physical, had born a friendship mixed to complicity that made me feel good. I passed the exams without any problems, and with very good marks. Grandma, as a gift for my diploma, bought me a Fiat 500. So, that summer we went to the castle with my new runabout.
I always loved to go to San Salva with grandmother. I enjoyed, as every year, her encounter with the farmers. We settled ourselves and we spent two or three months of real relaxation together. My room in the tower was to me, a real paradise. Up on the fourth floor, along the stone winding staircase, there was my bed room, my study and bathroom, just for me. There was also another room, once a bedroom, now filled with old furniture, whose windows looked over the castle's roof, while my windows looked onto the park. On the upper floor there were other rooms also stuffed with old things. And one level higher, the tower's battlement surrounded a kind of wide circular terrace where, at times, I went to sunbathe, completely naked. It was sufficient that I locked the door between the third and the fourth floors to be sure that nobody came to trouble my Adamic quietness and to enjoy my privacy. Up there, only birds were higher than me so that I didn't risk to embarrass anyone, even when at times, wrapped just by the suns' rays, I masturbated in quiet solitude. The old stables had been demolished that year to make way for new ones, so, I didn't have any more of my usual place to sunbathe. I wasn't upset though, the tower was even better.
During the August Holiday, Paolo came to see his family and we went up the tower, thinking to teach him what I did with Andrea. With some disappointment I discovered that he too had done it with his mate at the boarding school. Anyway we did it and it was very agreeable with him also. During the whole summer holiday, that day with Paolo was the only occasion I had to make love. We did it for a long while because, contrary than with Andrea, when we felt we were to close to ejaculating, we pulled it out and asked the other to take over, alternating so there were several penetrations before we reached orgasm inside each other. On that occasion he also told me about his mate. He is not Giampi, the one with which Paolo now is in couple.
Thanks to my Fiat 500 car, I travelled a lot, almost always alone, but at times with grandma Liza. If I just entered into the car, she had difficulty sitting in it - she was really tall, at least four inches taller than me!
Sometimes, friends or relatives came to visit us at the castle. Grandma always entertained them on the second floor, in the guests wing, the one on the back, across the hall, looking towards the great oak.
On that summer, amongst others, came the De Turris's father, mother, Edoardo, Lucia and Giovanni. Mrs. De Turris was grandmas relative (and of course mine too), in fact her grand mother was a sister of grandma Liza's mother, therefore Edoardo and I and eight degree kinship. Very distant relatives, anyway. But then, I didn't care so much the De Turris - Edoardo, the eldest, was barely fifteen and Giovanni was about ten years old. Edoardo was really nice, but I considered him a kid and was not too interested in him. He was not yet very developed and seemed even younger than his age, almost a thirteen-year-old. Furthermore, he was terribly shy and silent, and, at that time, seemed rather boring. Once grandma asked me to take the children to make a ride in my 500. This occasion and the meals we had together were the only contact I had with Edoardo. Also because, honestly, I really disliked his father and mother, therefore, throughout their stay, I made myself scarce in the castle.
Grandma, after they left, reprimanded me for my attitude.
We discussed matters and finally she concluded: "For someone like you, who wants to engage in a diplomatic career, it is important to be able to stay also with people you dislike."
"Yes, grandma Liza. But I would have to do many false smiles when I am in diplomacy, and I will do them. But at least for now, as I can, I would rather spare myself."
"It is not question of smiling falsely. A false smile is perceived so by everybody and makes us detestable. You have to learn to see what positive there is in a person, little or big could it be, and accept and smile to that. If we cannot find something good in someone, then we have to make a severe examination of our conscience, because it would be a sign that we are blinded by our haughtiness and pride, and we are not able to see what, undoubtedly there is."
"But, grandma, at times people really do their best to hide what good they have. Look at that Francesco De Turris, for instance, or his wife!"
"Yes, I know him well. If I told you that I like him, I would be lying. And yet, if you think about it, you can list at least five of his good qualities."
"Beside his money, his money, his money, his money and fifth, his money?"
Grandma smiled and said: "You are terrible! Certainly, besides money that is not one of the positive qualities of a person."
"I'm afraid I have to go to confess. Beside money I can't find anything positive."
"If you were serious, I too am afraid you have to go to confess yourself!"
She said that with such a serious and sorrowful tone, that made me feel ill at ease.
To dissipate that feeling, I said: "I think I have worse sins to worry about that that of not finding positive sides to the De Turris."
"I doubt that! Unless you killed somebody!" grandma seriously retorted.
"Killed? Certainly not! But there are other sins worse than that not being able to appreciate somebody, don't you think, grandma?"
"Ah really, Massimiliano? And what could they be?"
"Bah... to steal, to lie, to do impure deeds..."
"No, I don't agree. To judge others, to condemn them, is almost as bad as killing them. Therefore much worse than stealing or other. If you condemn somebody, it is like if inside yourself you killed him."
"But some people... it is impossible not to condemn them. It is a question of justice."
"And you, you would be the judge? You, or I? With what right? We can, and at times must, condemn a fact, a thing, but never a person. Remember that we will be judged for that we will judge."
"Yes, forgive us our trespasses..." I answered nodding.
"Exactly. And He will forgive us if we forgive them. He will condemn us if we condemn. He will absolve us if we absolve."
"But we must condemn a murderer, for instance."
"Wrong. We can condemn his murder, but not him."
"All right, but then why do murderers go to jail? All the judges then have to go... to hell?"
"Those who judge the person in their hearts, yes. Judges do not have to accomplish a moral act, they have only to enforce the law. But if they rose to moral judgements, for sure, as you say, they deserve to go to hell."
She put me on the straits. I thought a little and felt I'd found an escape: "But I don't condemn De Turris, but just how he acts."
"Little liar! If you did not condemn him, you would not have that attitude towards him. Think about it!" she answered with a smile and left the room.
Grandma Elisabetta was able to hit the mark - her words, her way of reasoning had been always impressed upon me. She was an extraordinary woman, and I felt I loved here more and more.
It has been right this admiration, this affection I felt towards her, that made me make a mistake.
You see, my dear Eugenio, notwithstanding my sexual experiences with men, and especially with Paolo and Andrea, I hadn't yet considered myself, that is I hadn't yet fully understood and therefore not even accepted that I was gay. I considered my stories with men just... how do I say... agreeable experiences. Somewhat like the few experiences I had with girls. Inside myself I "knew" that grandma ideal, and therefore absolutely for me too, was I to find a woman to marry and love, I had children, as it is "normal" to do. And my desire to be as grandma wanted me to be, pushed me to look for a girl to fall in love with, to court, to have a family with.
So, in the period between the summer and when I finally re-united with Edoardo, that was between my nineteenth and twenty first years, I started a kind of struggle inside myself, with my instincts, with my subconscious (and not even so much) desires. What pushed me to this struggle was, in some ways, my 'confessor', Father Enrico. I had confessed to him my various sexual experiences, and he told me that they were just a youths veers, mistakes in which almost all boys fall, and that it was up to me not to allow them to become "vices". Probably also the fact that he never made it out to be a tragedy, perhaps the fact that he never went into my "sins of the flesh" thoroughly, convinced me that he was right. Possibly if the good Franciscan father tried to understand better what meant my "I locked for a sexual vent with a boy" would have been a little more alarmed. I now think that very likely he thought we just touched each other, masturbate reciprocally at most, and he didn't suspect how much I loved complete intercourse, oral and anal, that I reached in the last times.
Be it as it is, when at nineteen I entered the university of Political Sciences, the first step in fulfilling my ambition for the diplomatic career. I met several pretty girls, intelligent, likeable, and amongst them, my attention was drawn to a delicious girl, Margherita di Sammarzano. She had all the qualities, including being of a noble family, a thing that that grandma and I didn't care, but that was one more asset for my diplomatic career. Margherita met grandma and at once, there developed a mutual liking. Even more because Margherita was a practicing catholic, and that really pleased grandma. She was not a bigot, as grandma wasn't.
Little by little, Margherita at first became my preferred course mate, and we studied for our exams together. Then she became my best friend, and at last, around the second year of studies, I started to court her in a more and more clear way and she seemed to accept it. Grandma was visibly happy of my choice, even if she never pushed me towards her, and never interfered. I was spending more and more time with Margherita. She also came to the castle for the two following summers to spend some days.
We had also begun to embrace each other and exchange kisses, and a much stronger intimacy grew between us.
In the summer 1971, at the castle, she said me: "Massimiliano, I... I feel more and more excited and attracted towards you. I wouldn't like to... to go much further before..." and became silent.
"Before marriage?" I continued on her behalf.
She nodded yes, lightly blushing.
I embraced her with a deep sentiment of tenderness and whispered: "See, I... I was right thinking that I would like... to marry with you, if you feel like."
"Really?"
"Certainly. Do you want me to meet your parents? We can officially get engaged, if you want to marry me, that is."
"Yes... but not yet, please. You took me unawares. I need some time to think about that... Do you mind?"
"No, not at all. When you feel ready, just let me understand it."
"Sure, Maximilian. But... also if we become engaged, don't ask me to... don't presume that we..."
"To have a complete physical intercourse? As you like, darling. I will stop, I will wait, because I want you to feel safe with me."
"Will not it be too heavy? At times I can feel that you... that you are... that you desire me."
"Certainly, because you are desirable."
"I, do you see... I am still a virgin and... perhaps it is no more fashionable but... I would like to marry still a virgin."
"As you wish, Margherita."
"You... did you already..." she asked and lowered her eyes.
"Yes, I already had... some experiences. Do you regret that?"
"No, not so much. I believe that they are few boys that haven't tried it before marriage."
"And what about the girls?"
She giggled and shook her head: "Few they also, I'm afraid."
"And do you think it is wrong? It is too bad?"
"Each one acts as he thinks right. To me it is so, but I don't judge anybody. No less you, Maximilian. I love you, really. I like you, I like your way to be..."
So we continued to flirt, without trespassing the limits she had set. At times, I confess, it was rather difficult. So I masturbated quite often. At twenty I had also a short adventure with a boy, but it was all in those two years.
All was proceeding well. I was more and more convincing myself I had found the right companion of my life and thought that at this point the chapter of 'boys' was over, concluded forever. With Margherita, I fitted so well and physically her proximity provoked in me an intense pleasure and a growing desire.
At the end of our third year at university, Margherita announced that she would not be coming to spend the summer at the castle with me.
"Why, Marghe? I thought that... that possibly we could invite also your family and... we could announce our engagement."
"I cannot. I really have to go with them to England, for the marriage of my cousin."
"And will you stay there all summer long?"
"Yes, my love. But when I return you can... we can get engaged."
"Oh yes. We will give a party to announce it. Will you be back in September?"
"No, around the end of October. Will you wait for me?"
"For sure. I will just think of you, my love..."
So, after July exams, we bid farewell, and began that long separation.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 5
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