"It was sunlight" - Chapter one - gay story - by Simon Harper sharper@inorbit.com - Please tell me what you think, especially if you like it ;-)
This story is totally fictional. The (c) copyright belongs to the author.
It was sunlight, falling on the corpse. The corpse was purple, blotchy and red - in stripes where the skin had been peeled off - and also white and blue. Its eyes had been removed, as had its ears and fingers and toes. It was not wearing any clothes.
I kicked it and it rolled over, the slope of the hill assisting, down into the water. A duck swam up and stuck its bill into the water speculatively. The it swam around the body, quacking softly, then it clambered out to the water and stood sleepily in a place where the sunlight fell most strongly.
In the days since I had first discovered the body I had not told anyone. It was my secret. Then I told Michael, my friend. He was confused as I led him down the trackless slope to where the rotting body now lay.
"Must be the vendetta."
"Who's?"
"The Pascal family versus the Valeri."
"How do you know?"
"He's a Valeri. He's from Coggotti. He's my Uncle Paul. I used to go to his house when I was little. Wait until I tell them about this! The Pascals had better watch out!"
"Don't do that."
"Why not? They'll guess sooner or later anyway. What if they find out we knew?"
I grabbed him and held his arms.
"Just listen to me," I said. "We should stay out of this. We don't want to be responsible for more deaths! No one knows we found this body here. No one knows. Just you and I." I was holding his arms in a very tight grip.
"Let go of me. You're hurting."
He struggled but I didn't let go.
"Promise me you won't say anything!"
He struggled and we ended up tripping over the body, stumbling into the shallow water. The duck flapped away, squawking. Michael kept trying to shake me off him but I held on tighter than ever.
"Let go of me you cunt. Of course we can talk about this. I don't know. What does it matter? It is none of our business."
"Right: None of our business. Let's not tell anyone. Let's keep quiet about it. Yeh?"
"Just let go of me. You're really hurting."
I pulled him towards me and repeated myself. "Don't tell anyone." My face was right up against his and I could feel his chest against mine - his breathing. His eyes looked straight at me and his body went still.
"If that's what you want," he whispered.
And I kissed him.
When I stopped I said, "That's right. You get it. We can't become involved. It's dangerous for us."
He nodded and then he put his lips up against mine and I kissed him again, pulling him by the arms hard up against me. His body was hard and strong and I released my grip so that I could put my arms around him and explore him beneath his clothes - his smooth unyielding skin, his arched muscular back, his buttocks.
"You are very beautiful," I said.
"Beautiful?"
I kissed him again and pushed my hard against him and between his legs.
When I heard that Michael was to be tried for the murder of this uncle Paul, I was vaguely satisfied. There was no way they could argue he could have done it. The prosecution case was convoluted and implausible. They said that Michael had tried to make the death look like a vendetta murder but that in actual fact he had carried it out in revenge for years of bullying and intimidation against him by Paul.
Witnesses were found who would testify that Paul had chastised Michael for being effeminate, a mama's boy, a pushover, a pansy who took it up the arse. But Michael was a strong man physically and his robust appearance did not match the commonly held conception of a homosexual. Furthermore, the evidence was really only circumstantial.
The Police smelled a rat. They gradually realised that the case against Michael was being orchestrated by Pascal sympathisers, aided by Valeri family members who wanted to take their own revenge, outside the legal requirements of due process. Michael was arrested and held for a number of weeks - with much publicity - and then released without charge. Insufficient evidence. The Police had realised that they were being led a song and dance, merely to demonstrate to them that they would not be able to bring a successful prosecution. They were now being obstructed by all the parties concerned and quietly dropped their investigations. I knew that Michael now could not be blamed by anyone. The Valeri family weren't interested in finding the real murderer, just in exacting their revenge from the Pascals. They would select their victim . . . all in good time.
I went to see Michael whilst he was inside, but he wouldn't talk except to say, "They'll be sorry for this."
When he got out I went to his house. He was just leaving.
"Michael," I said, "off out? I'm just coming to see you. Where are you going? I'll walk with you."
Michael looked at me with suspicion. His shirt was undone at the collar and I saw a thin gold chain - taut, like it held a medallion or something.
"That's new," I said.
"My father gave it to me."
"What is it?"
"It's a St. Anthony - Patron Saint of our family. Used to belong to my Uncle."
"Show it to me."
Michael took the medallion out and held it up, beneath his chin so I could see. The light caught it and shone on his skin.
"That's lovely," I said, "but why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"All this 'My Family' business. It can't be good. You don't want to get involved with all that. You know what? You'll end up in trouble. Your family will get you into trouble."
"My family love me."
"Of course they love you," I said. "You're easy to love. You're an idiot, and you're pretty. You're and idiot and you're pretty. And everyone loves a pretty idiot."
He smirked. "That's true. Even the Pascals love me. They said so."
"Said so? When did they say so?"
"One of them visited me in jail and said that I was very popular with the Pascal girls and that the grandfather wanted my in their family so that their could be an end to this hatred and killing. Like you said."
"I said?"
"You said there should be an end to this hatred and killing."
"I didn't mean you should get married."
"It's a good idea. I asked my father and he said that once the current trouble is resolved it might even be a good idea."
"Don't get married," I said.
"It'll be good. I'll bring peace to the villages and we'll be able to unite against the lower valley."
"Where the hell do you get these barmy ideas from? 'Unite against the lower valley'? What's that all about?"
"They're always putting us down."
"I never heard such rubbish. This whole area is reliant on them."
"They're reliant on us, my father said."
He looked at me with his big brown eyes and I wanted to hold him in my arms and kiss him and feel him and press my naked skin against his. He smiled again, pointlessly, rubbing his chest where the medallion lay beneath his shirt.
"Wanna go for a walk?" he said. "I'm glad to see you."
"Ok. Where?"
"Down by the lake."
"Where we found the body?"
"Yeh."
So we walked into the woods and when we were out of the way of anybody I undressed him and he undressed me and we fucked.
Afterwards, with the sunlight sketching a giraffe skin pattern with the leaves, and the ducks feeding casually at the bottom of the slope, we lay with my arm around his neck and his leg slung over me so it kept pressed on my penis, and we slept - or rather we dozed, or I did because I couldn't stop thinking about him and the way he gave himself to me and how this might not last forever and how his skin felt, warm and golden in the sun, and how his Uncle had been right!
"I love you," I said when he woke. He rolled over and on top of me, his hair in his eyes, guiding my stiff prick between his legs. He gave little kisses to my lips, my nose, my eyes.
"When I get married," he said, "we can still do this."
"You can't get married. You couldn't . . . do the business!"
"I could! I'd probably be quite good. My father says I'm just what women look for : I'm fit and strong, well brought up, I don't get angry and violet, I'm caring . . . "
"What about what your Uncle said?"
"No one believes that. No one at all - except you. And if I was married it'd all be forgotten anyway."
He got up - golden and marvellous - and walked over to where a strong branch grew within jumping reach. He hopped and caught it, then started doing chin-ups, his arms, stomach and chest tightening with each lift. I lay beneath his feet admiring him.
"I wish you wouldn't do this," I said. "You deserve better."
He grunted.
"It'd be meaningless, a relationship with a woman. You don't care about women. You're like me. You can't marry. You'll be unhappy. She'll be unhappy. What's the point of that?"
He grunted.
"We could run away," I said, " to the North or even leave and go to the mainland. Get work over there. Stay over there. No one would know us. No one would care. We could work hard and earn lots of money and be together for the rest of our lives. It'd be good! We'd leave all of this valley insanity, all of this vendetta insanity behind us."
He grunted.
"What do you think, hey?" I said.
He grunted and dropped down from the tree, panting, his penis stiffening in a thick mop of pubic hair and a glistening sweat breaking out on his chest and arms. He stood looking at me and raised his hands high in the air.
"Look," he said, "I like you. I like having sex with you : Look at me! You excite me. Look at this," he shook his hips and his torpedo shaped erection waved in front of him. "See!" he laughed. "That's how I get when you say how much you want me. You turn me on. You make me hard. I love that you make me hard. You're great. It's brilliant. You're horney!"
He stood still and then crouched down beside me.
"But you're missing a whole lot," he said confidentially - as if the mundane facts of his ordinary life were an impolite secret.
"What am I missing?"
"You're missing that I have a family and that I could not simply walk out on them. They need me. They need me to stay. They need me to work. They need me to get married. And they need me to get married to Alicia."
"Alicia?"
"That's the Pascal daughter I'm . . . betrothed to."
"Betrothed? Betrothed already? It's that far advanced? It's that settled?"
"Oh it was decided some while ago."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I've been trying . . . I only found out a while ago myself. It's the killing."
"What killing?"
"All the fucking killing, you prick. And it's got to stop." He put a hand on me and stroked my skin. "And that's why I've got to get married."
"That won't stop the killing."
"Oh it will," he said confidently. "You can be sure of that."
He ran a finger over my lips and touched my eyelids and eyebrows and brushed my hair lightly with his fingertips, watching me and talking to me distantly, as if he was talking to himself or as if he was talking in a foreign language no one but he could understand.
"It will." He went on. "The Pascals came to visit us one night, with a threat. They knew that the Valeri would try to exact their revenge for the death of my uncle. They warned us off. They made it clear that it wouldn't stop there and that for every death we caused they would kill seven, or something. I don't know why they chose the number seven . . ." He laughed. "But the point is, the truth is that they are stronger, bigger, better connected . . . they might never give in until the whole Valeri are gone. Wiped out.
"They have the authorities in the pockets. That's what my arrest was all about. Don't you see? The arrest was all about the Pascals showing their strength. They got me arrested, they got the witnesses against me, they concocted the whole story, they said I was queer and that my Uncle was ashamed of me and that I was useless to the whole Valeri family, the whole valley, I was useless and good for nothing, a weak useless pansy.
"It was horrible, what they said. My father was shattered. He cried. He sat in his chair by the fire and cried and cried and the Pascals went on about how they killed my Uncle Paul and they concocted the story for the Police that got me arrested and then, when they had proved what they could do, and even the Valeri were helping, actually helping them by themselves obstructing the Police - for their own reasons - then the Pascals went to the Judges and the Police and told them to go easy and let me go and throw out the case and drop the investigation . . .
"It was all put up by the Pascals and now we know it and now we know why : They wanted to corner us, drive us like sheep into a corner where we would have no option but to cooperate and now . . ."
"And you believe all this?" I said.
Michael's face was red and sweating with anger. His fingers stroking me had got rougher and harder. He was pressing them into me, poking me. Punching me, almost, with the tips of his fingers.
His eyes filled with tears and he said, "I know it is true. I am to be their hostage."
"What the hell . . . What kind of hostage? Hostage?"
"I am to go to marry Alicia and live in the Pascal household and become a Pascal. It's very humiliating. And if the Valeri do anything to hurt the Pascals then I will be killed and my children, if we have any, will also be killed. And Alicia will be killed for laying with me. That way the Valeri can be trusted not to try anything . . . while I'm alive . . ."
"It's grotesque. They're making her marry you . . . and then threatening to kill her!?"
"It's not that," he said - and for the first time in a while he raised his eyes and looked at me, sorrowfully. "We have already been together."
I practically leaped out of my skin.
"You what?"
"It was an experiment . . ."
"Experiment?"
"To see if it would work."
"And did it? Did you get it up?"
"I did. And I did fuck her."
"Is she pregnant?"
"Oh no, silly - nothing like that. But she told them and they . . . used it. She loves me, I think."
"You're a fucking idiot."
"I know. I'm an idiot. But I know where my duty lies."
"You're an idiot."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeh. I'm sorry too," I said.
He kept looking at me, his hard-on standing up between his legs. I looked at it and he laughed.
"See?" he said.
"See what?"
"How much I fancy you?"
He lay down and started wanking me and I wanked him, kissing him more and more passionately until we had come; and the cum mixed together on our stomachs, like we would always be together; and the cum lay between the sandwich of our bodies, like we would always be apart.
"It was sunlight" - Chapter one - gay story - by Simon Harper sharper@inorbit.com - Please tell me what you think, especially if you like it ;-)
This story is totally fictional. The (c) copyright belongs to the author.
It was sunlight, falling on the corpse. The corpse was purple, blotchy and red - in stripes where the skin had been peeled off - and also white and blue. Its eyes had been removed, as had its ears and fingers and toes. It was not wearing any clothes.
I kicked it and it rolled over, the slope of the hill assisting, down into the water. A duck swam up and stuck its bill into the water speculatively. The it swam around the body, quacking softly, then it clambered out to the water and stood sleepily in a place where the sunlight fell most strongly.
In the days since I had first discovered the body I had not told anyone. It was my secret. Then I told Michael, my friend. He was confused as I led him down the trackless slope to where the rotting body now lay.
"Must be the vendetta."
"Who's?"
"The Pascal family versus the Valeri."
"How do you know?"
"He's a Valeri. He's from Coggotti. He's my Uncle Paul. I used to go to his house when I was little. Wait until I tell them about this! The Pascals had better watch out!"
"Don't do that."
"Why not? They'll guess sooner or later anyway. What if they find out we knew?"
I grabbed him and held his arms.
"Just listen to me," I said. "We should stay out of this. We don't want to be responsible for more deaths! No one knows we found this body here. No one knows. Just you and I." I was holding his arms in a very tight grip.
"Let go of me. You're hurting."
He struggled but I didn't let go.
"Promise me you won't say anything!"
He struggled and we ended up tripping over the body, stumbling into the shallow water. The duck flapped away, squawking. Michael kept trying to shake me off him but I held on tighter than ever.
"Let go of me you cunt. Of course we can talk about this. I don't know. What does it matter? It is none of our business."
"Right: None of our business. Let's not tell anyone. Let's keep quiet about it. Yeh?"
"Just let go of me. You're really hurting."
I pulled him towards me and repeated myself. "Don't tell anyone." My face was right up against his and I could feel his chest against mine - his breathing. His eyes looked straight at me and his body went still.
"If that's what you want," he whispered.
And I kissed him.
When I stopped I said, "That's right. You get it. We can't become involved. It's dangerous for us."
He nodded and then he put his lips up against mine and I kissed him again, pulling him by the arms hard up against me. His body was hard and strong and I released my grip so that I could put my arms around him and explore him beneath his clothes - his smooth unyielding skin, his arched muscular back, his buttocks.
"You are very beautiful," I said.
"Beautiful?"
I kissed him again and pushed my hard against him and between his legs.
When I heard that Michael was to be tried for the murder of this uncle Paul, I was vaguely satisfied. There was no way they could argue he could have done it. The prosecution case was convoluted and implausible. They said that Michael had tried to make the death look like a vendetta murder but that in actual fact he had carried it out in revenge for years of bullying and intimidation against him by Paul.
Witnesses were found who would testify that Paul had chastised Michael for being effeminate, a mama's boy, a pushover, a pansy who took it up the arse. But Michael was a strong man physically and his robust appearance did not match the commonly held conception of a homosexual. Furthermore, the evidence was really only circumstantial.
The Police smelled a rat. They gradually realised that the case against Michael was being orchestrated by Pascal sympathisers, aided by Valeri family members who wanted to take their own revenge, outside the legal requirements of due process. Michael was arrested and held for a number of weeks - with much publicity - and then released without charge. Insufficient evidence. The Police had realised that they were being led a song and dance, merely to demonstrate to them that they would not be able to bring a successful prosecution. They were now being obstructed by all the parties concerned and quietly dropped their investigations. I knew that Michael now could not be blamed by anyone. The Valeri family weren't interested in finding the real murderer, just in exacting their revenge from the Pascals. They would select their victim . . . all in good time.
I went to see Michael whilst he was inside, but he wouldn't talk except to say, "They'll be sorry for this."
When he got out I went to his house. He was just leaving.
"Michael," I said, "off out? I'm just coming to see you. Where are you going? I'll walk with you."
Michael looked at me with suspicion. His shirt was undone at the collar and I saw a thin gold chain - taut, like it held a medallion or something.
"That's new," I said.
"My father gave it to me."
"What is it?"
"It's a St. Anthony - Patron Saint of our family. Used to belong to my Uncle."
"Show it to me."
Michael took the medallion out and held it up, beneath his chin so I could see. The light caught it and shone on his skin.
"That's lovely," I said, "but why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"All this 'My Family' business. It can't be good. You don't want to get involved with all that. You know what? You'll end up in trouble. Your family will get you into trouble."
"My family love me."
"Of course they love you," I said. "You're easy to love. You're an idiot, and you're pretty. You're and idiot and you're pretty. And everyone loves a pretty idiot."
He smirked. "That's true. Even the Pascals love me. They said so."
"Said so? When did they say so?"
"One of them visited me in jail and said that I was very popular with the Pascal girls and that the grandfather wanted my in their family so that their could be an end to this hatred and killing. Like you said."
"I said?"
"You said there should be an end to this hatred and killing."
"I didn't mean you should get married."
"It's a good idea. I asked my father and he said that once the current trouble is resolved it might even be a good idea."
"Don't get married," I said.
"It'll be good. I'll bring peace to the villages and we'll be able to unite against the lower valley."
"Where the hell do you get these barmy ideas from? 'Unite against the lower valley'? What's that all about?"
"They're always putting us down."
"I never heard such rubbish. This whole area is reliant on them."
"They're reliant on us, my father said."
He looked at me with his big brown eyes and I wanted to hold him in my arms and kiss him and feel him and press my naked skin against his. He smiled again, pointlessly, rubbing his chest where the medallion lay beneath his shirt.
"Wanna go for a walk?" he said. "I'm glad to see you."
"Ok. Where?"
"Down by the lake."
"Where we found the body?"
"Yeh."
So we walked into the woods and when we were out of the way of anybody I undressed him and he undressed me and we fucked.
Afterwards, with the sunlight sketching a giraffe skin pattern with the leaves, and the ducks feeding casually at the bottom of the slope, we lay with my arm around his neck and his leg slung over me so it kept pressed on my penis, and we slept - or rather we dozed, or I did because I couldn't stop thinking about him and the way he gave himself to me and how this might not last forever and how his skin felt, warm and golden in the sun, and how his Uncle had been right!
"I love you," I said when he woke. He rolled over and on top of me, his hair in his eyes, guiding my stiff prick between his legs. He gave little kisses to my lips, my nose, my eyes.
"When I get married," he said, "we can still do this."
"You can't get married. You couldn't . . . do the business!"
"I could! I'd probably be quite good. My father says I'm just what women look for : I'm fit and strong, well brought up, I don't get angry and violet, I'm caring . . . "
"What about what your Uncle said?"
"No one believes that. No one at all - except you. And if I was married it'd all be forgotten anyway."
He got up - golden and marvellous - and walked over to where a strong branch grew within jumping reach. He hopped and caught it, then started doing chin-ups, his arms, stomach and chest tightening with each lift. I lay beneath his feet admiring him.
"I wish you wouldn't do this," I said. "You deserve better."
He grunted.
"It'd be meaningless, a relationship with a woman. You don't care about women. You're like me. You can't marry. You'll be unhappy. She'll be unhappy. What's the point of that?"
He grunted.
"We could run away," I said, " to the North or even leave and go to the mainland. Get work over there. Stay over there. No one would know us. No one would care. We could work hard and earn lots of money and be together for the rest of our lives. It'd be good! We'd leave all of this valley insanity, all of this vendetta insanity behind us."
He grunted.
"What do you think, hey?" I said.
He grunted and dropped down from the tree, panting, his penis stiffening in a thick mop of pubic hair and a glistening sweat breaking out on his chest and arms. He stood looking at me and raised his hands high in the air.
"Look," he said, "I like you. I like having sex with you : Look at me! You excite me. Look at this," he shook his hips and his torpedo shaped erection waved in front of him. "See!" he laughed. "That's how I get when you say how much you want me. You turn me on. You make me hard. I love that you make me hard. You're great. It's brilliant. You're horney!"
He stood still and then crouched down beside me.
"But you're missing a whole lot," he said confidentially - as if the mundane facts of his ordinary life were an impolite secret.
"What am I missing?"
"You're missing that I have a family and that I could not simply walk out on them. They need me. They need me to stay. They need me to work. They need me to get married. And they need me to get married to Alicia."
"Alicia?"
"That's the Pascal daughter I'm . . . betrothed to."
"Betrothed? Betrothed already? It's that far advanced? It's that settled?"
"Oh it was decided some while ago."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I've been trying . . . I only found out a while ago myself. It's the killing."
"What killing?"
"All the fucking killing, you prick. And it's got to stop." He put a hand on me and stroked my skin. "And that's why I've got to get married."
"That won't stop the killing."
"Oh it will," he said confidently. "You can be sure of that."
He ran a finger over my lips and touched my eyelids and eyebrows and brushed my hair lightly with his fingertips, watching me and talking to me distantly, as if he was talking to himself or as if he was talking in a foreign language no one but he could understand.
"It will." He went on. "The Pascals came to visit us one night, with a threat. They knew that the Valeri would try to exact their revenge for the death of my uncle. They warned us off. They made it clear that it wouldn't stop there and that for every death we caused they would kill seven, or something. I don't know why they chose the number seven . . ." He laughed. "But the point is, the truth is that they are stronger, bigger, better connected . . . they might never give in until the whole Valeri are gone. Wiped out.
"They have the authorities in the pockets. That's what my arrest was all about. Don't you see? The arrest was all about the Pascals showing their strength. They got me arrested, they got the witnesses against me, they concocted the whole story, they said I was queer and that my Uncle was ashamed of me and that I was useless to the whole Valeri family, the whole valley, I was useless and good for nothing, a weak useless pansy.
"It was horrible, what they said. My father was shattered. He cried. He sat in his chair by the fire and cried and cried and the Pascals went on about how they killed my Uncle Paul and they concocted the story for the Police that got me arrested and then, when they had proved what they could do, and even the Valeri were helping, actually helping them by themselves obstructing the Police - for their own reasons - then the Pascals went to the Judges and the Police and told them to go easy and let me go and throw out the case and drop the investigation . . .
"It was all put up by the Pascals and now we know it and now we know why : They wanted to corner us, drive us like sheep into a corner where we would have no option but to cooperate and now . . ."
"And you believe all this?" I said.
Michael's face was red and sweating with anger. His fingers stroking me had got rougher and harder. He was pressing them into me, poking me. Punching me, almost, with the tips of his fingers.
His eyes filled with tears and he said, "I know it is true. I am to be their hostage."
"What the hell . . . What kind of hostage? Hostage?"
"I am to go to marry Alicia and live in the Pascal household and become a Pascal. It's very humiliating. And if the Valeri do anything to hurt the Pascals then I will be killed and my children, if we have any, will also be killed. And Alicia will be killed for laying with me. That way the Valeri can be trusted not to try anything . . . while I'm alive . . ."
"It's grotesque. They're making her marry you . . . and then threatening to kill her!?"
"It's not that," he said - and for the first time in a while he raised his eyes and looked at me, sorrowfully. "We have already been together."
I practically leaped out of my skin.
"You what?"
"It was an experiment . . ."
"Experiment?"
"To see if it would work."
"And did it? Did you get it up?"
"I did. And I did fuck her."
"Is she pregnant?"
"Oh no, silly - nothing like that. But she told them and they . . . used it. She loves me, I think."
"You're a fucking idiot."
"I know. I'm an idiot. But I know where my duty lies."
"You're an idiot."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeh. I'm sorry too," I said.
He kept looking at me, his hard-on standing up between his legs. I looked at it and he laughed.
"See?" he said.
"See what?"
"How much I fancy you?"
He lay down and started wanking me and I wanked him, kissing him more and more passionately until we had come; and the cum mixed together on our stomachs, like we would always be together; and the cum lay between the sandwich of our bodies, like we would always be apart.
"It was sunlight" - Chapter one - gay story - by Simon Harper sharper@inorbit.com - Please tell me what you think, especially if you like it ;-)
This story is totally fictional. The (c) copyright belongs to the author.
Keep wood and stay sharp^^ My other stories : /gay/sf-fantasy/i-am-not-interested /gay/authoritarian/one-thing-i-might-do /gay/authoritarian/as-a-postman /gay/sf-fantasy/some-holiday /gay/authoritarian/how-we-met