ITALIAN BROTHERS 2 TANO & MASO by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2005 written September 2nd, 1993 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Matt & Dave
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"ITALIAN BROTHERS 2 - TANO & MASO" 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 9. An unexpected return
Gaetano was now thirty years old. Business was flourishing; he now had five workers in his shop and was well known, respected and esteemed in town. He had entered the "Tailor's Guild" and soon became its secretary. He also bought some rooms bordering the back of his shop to widen the workshop area and was planning to change the sign of his shop, pulling down the one saying "To the Trevi Tailor" changing it with another saying "To Master Lugato - Tailor", but he decided not to do it for the moment.
He had to update the shop. He whitened the walls, changed the old shelves over from a dark old wood with new ones in cherry wood, and bought some mannequins to show his best tailored creations. He received regularly from Paris some beautiful colored watercolor prints showing the latest models of the men's fashion, and he hung them nicely on the walls.
As he made the people updating his shop to work during the night time, he managed to keep the shop open during the day, and to have all the works finished in just two weeks. He had only to close it for three days but the clients could go straight to the workshop area through the courtyard. At the end he was tired, he had paid a good amount of money, but he was fully satisfied. The old shop owner passed by, saw the changes and paid him his compliments. He also thanked him warmly as he didn't change the old sign, so that Gaetano renounced to his project to replace it. After all, he was now the "Trevi's tailor"...
He now owned also a box at the theatre, like any good middle class man. Moreover, thanks also to his work, he was always dressed with refined elegance. At times he thought back to the poor and rough clothes of the first part of his life. His present good luck, he was thinking with deep gratitude, was totally caused by Tommaso who taught him to read, write and count, and to Felice who left him all his gold...
And June 1862 came.
Gaetano was leaning against a table in the workshop, while his five workers were tailoring, and was reading on the "Gazzettino" the last news about the political changes that were happening, when he heard the little bell of the entrance door tinkling. He put down his newspaper, looked rapidly at himself on the wall mirror to check that his appearance was in order, and entered his shop. There was a client, turned toward the wall, looking at the fashion prints. Seeing the man from his back, he thought that he seemed really well shaped...
"Good morning, sir. Can I help you?" Gaetano said with his usual winning tone.
The man turned, his face went pale and started to stammer, "But... but you... you..."
Gaetano felt suddenly he was vacillating, his breath died, his heart stopped. Then he heard his own voice, almost as if it was something alien to him, almost as if it was another to talk, saying in a low but clear murmur. "My God! Maso! It's not possible... you... you... Maso, you are alive!"
"Tano... oh, Tano... Tano..." The man was just repeating,
They both remained still for long instants, like petrified, almost not believing what their eyes were seeing and that the mutual recognition was confirming. And the twelve years of their separation vanished like for magic, and they both saw each other as an eighteen-year-old and a nineteen-year-old, badly dressed, thin and lean, but madly in love with each other, and full of joy to live for each other. And then they flew one towards the other, they embraced tightly, almost with the despair of a shipwrecked man clinging to a floating piece of wood, and they cried, shaken by their sobs, both trembling, conscious only of the reality of the other. No, this was not a dream!
If somebody, some passer-by, would have looked at that scene could have thought odd to see two grown-up, elegant, distinct men standing in the centre of the shop so tightly clinging to each other and so shaken by deep sobs. He would have thought they were two near relatives upset for a sudden mourning... Gaetano and Tommaso were no more conscious of the world surrounding them, but only of each other presence, so real, so true, so tangible, so concrete even if so unbelievable.
"You're alive! You're alive, Maso! Blessed be God, you're alive! Oh my Maso!" one murmured.
And the other echoed, "They didn't kill you, it was not true! Tano, my Tano! Mine, mine, mine! It was not true..."
They gradually calmed down, at least partially.
They parted almost unwillingly and Gaetano said, "You have to come to my home, you have to tell me everything... wait, I must just warn Renzo, then we can go."
"Sure," the other assented, "sure thing, my Tano!"
He went to the back room, told he had to leave for all the day because of a sudden emergency, and entrusted his shop to his chief-worker.
The man asked him, worriedly, "Some problem, master Lugato? You have a face... as if you saw a ghost! Are you all right, master?"
"What? Uh, yes, yes, I'm all right. But I have to leave, now. Please take care of everything, and also to open the shop tomorrow morning." He said and went hurriedly back to the shop, took Tommaso's hand whispering him, "Come..." and they both flew to Gaetano's home.
When they were there, as soon as the door was closed, they were again one in the arms of the other in a silent, tight embrace, almost as to ascertain that the other was not just a vision, that he was real, in the flesh.
"Oh Maso! My Maso... come, let's go in the other room. You have to tell me everything... everything..."
They sat on the sofa, squeezed against each other, almost as if they feared that someone or something could part them once more. Tommaso noticed the little ring on his friend's finger.
"You still wear our ring... I do too, look here."
"But tell me, do you live here in Rome, now?"
"Yes, behind the Serristori barracks."
"For how long have you lived there?"
"One year."
"And I live here for two years! And we never met, never saw each other!"
"Today we did..."
"Thanking God! But now tell me everything about you, about these twelve years. Since I saw you falling in the Tevere River, I thought you drowned..."
"Yes, I fell and the last thing I remember about that moment is you shouting and a bandit was at your back and was coming on you... During the fall I think I hit my head but the splash in the water gave me back my conscience. The river's strong current swept me away. I was making desperate attempts to remain afloat, but it was a struggle that seemed useless and only a feeling of urgency to come back to you who where in danger gave me a desperate strength to resist. Then I remember that, I don't know how long later, I managed to cling to some branches grazing the water and my crazy run stopped. With my last strength I managed to gradually reach the bank, to climb it and to be back on the dry land. And then I collapsed and lost consciousness. I think I recovered my senses the day after, because it was early morning. I was still drenched, covered with bruises, scratched, and battered. I saw I was on the point where the Tevere opens into Lake Corbara. I wandered a while in the scrub and amongst the bushes looking for a road. When I found it, I walked on it downward. I was aching, weak, soaked and upset. I walked for hours, I think, until I reached the village of Corbara. Here a generous soul felt sympathy for me and helped me. I told him what happened and said I wanted to go back to look for you.
"Sonny or the bandits killed him and then is useless to go back there, you cannot do anything for him, or he escaped, and in this case he will no more be there. But here nobody has passed."
He took care of me, made me rest and nourished me for three days. He also offered me a job - he was the village's baker and needed some help. He would teach me to make bread... But I could not remain there, I had to look for you, I had to know about you. I therefore thought that the best thing to do was to go back to Civitanova - if you escaped I would for sure find you there... or at least I could have your news there. When I told him what I wanted to do, the baker at first tried to dissuade me. Then he suggested me to wait for a caravan going there, to have a safer journey. But I didn't want to wait any longer I had already lost too much time.
Therefore, after that his wife mended my clothes, he gave me a little blanket for the night, some food, a small flask of wine and we said farewell. I went up the mountain taking the way back. I walked for days. At times I could walk a stretch of road with some other passer-by, but I was mainly a loner. My food ended so I started to beg for it or stole some fruits in the fields until I reached Colfiorito. Here I had to stop as I was taken by a bad fever and my legs didn't support me any more. I again had good luck, as Colfiorito's parish priest hosted me and healed me, and was moved by my story.
As soon as I healed, the priest told me that a man of that village had to cross the mountains to go to Muccia, a village in the Marca, so that he could guide me through the lanes where I could get lost. So I resumed my journey. Then from Muccia the road is practically all going down so it was easy to reach Civitanova after some more days of walking.
I ran to the store. And there my uncle, who was already back, told me that you had been killed by the bandits. I felt such a shock that I lost my senses and they had to put me in my bed with a raging fever, for several days.
When I was healed, my uncle told me with a severe face that I had talked in my delirium so he understood the kind of "filthy" relationship that tied me to you and that, therefore, he could no longer allow me to sleep under his roof. He was so generous to give me a change of clothes, some coins, and put me on the street ordering me to disappear from Civitanova and from his life, forever.
I didn't care any more about staying I didn't care about anything, at that point, believing that you were dead. So I went up along the coast towards Ancona, thinking to look for any job that would allow me to survive. I reached the Port of Recanati I stopped in the pine wood to take a bath in the sea. Leaving my few belongings on the shore, I plunged in the water and took a long swim. But when I went back to the shore, all my belongings had disappeared, clothes and money, stolen by somebody. So I found myself there, naked like a worm, not knowing what to do. I heard somebody arriving so, being ashamed to be seen in that state, I hid behind a bush that was nearby.
I saw a big boy, about sixteen-year-old, arriving alone. He was well dressed. He looked around, thought to be alone, so he undressed completely and went to swim. At this point I had the thought I could take profit of that occasion and steal in my turn his clothes. So I ran where he left them and started to hurriedly wear them, sure that the boy was far away, swimming in the sea. But he, I don't know if he just saw me or he just wanted to take a plunge and not to swim, ran towards me shouting. I tried to escape but his breeches that I had just halfway up my legs, hindered me and I fell. He was on me immediately. We engaged a battle. Even if he was younger than me, he had a body big like mine, moreover I was tired, ill nourished, sad heartened while he was strong, solid and furious with me, so soon he had the upper hand.
When he held me fast and still, panting asked me, piercing me with a furious gaze, why I was stealing his clothes. I told him why. He was still over me, naked while I was under him, still half naked. And we both realized that we were both aroused, possibly because of the hand to hand struggle. The boy, listening to my story, seemed to soften.
"Well, all right, I will not take you to the guards. On the contrary, I'll help you to find some clothes... I like you, thief."
"I never stole... before, I swear..." I protested.
The boy, remaining sitting over me, did something that I couldn't imagine - he brushed my nipples, caressed my chest, my sides. I quivered under him.
"What's your name?" the boy asked me continuing to tease and caress me.
"Maso... and you?"
"Carlo. I like your body. Somewhat thin but... well shaped. I like it here too." He said placing his hand on my hard tool and groping it. I shuddered and closed my eyes, blushing. "You like it, don't you?" he asked continuing to finger me there. I nodded in assent. "I too like touching you. Do you like it too, go on?"
Somewhat as I was, we can say, his "prisoner", somewhat because I was anyway aroused, and somewhat because I thought he was beautiful, I too touched him. Carlo slipped away from over me, on my side, and kissed me in my mouth. We started making love. I think I needed that, I needed a body but more than that some warmth, tenderness... so afterwards I felt better. That first time we came just so, brushing each against the other, mutually touching and caressing.
Then Carlo told me to wait for him there. Took his clothes, wore them and ran away. I waited for him a couple of hours.
He came back with a bundle. "Here, these are my clothes, as we have more or less the same size. Take, wear them."
I thanked him and dressed. They were good clothes and I felt a strange effect feeling them on my body. It was agreeable they gave me the feeling of a caress.
"And now, what do you think to do?" he asked me there in the pine wood when I was again clothed.
"I don't know I've no idea. I've no home, no money, no food... I'm alone."
Carlo seemed to evaluate me, and then said, "Listen, I thought to that while I was going and coming back. You... what we did before... is it your first time?"
"No, not at all."
"And you like it, right?"
"I do, sure."
"But the other times... always with boys or men?"
"Yes, with boys..."
"The same here is true for me. But it is not so easy to find a friend here. At times I can do it with a passing sailor, you know, but most of times I am just alone. Would you like to be my friend, to remain with me? I like you..."
"Why not? I too like you. But... how?"
"My uncle is a cabinet maker in Recanati, up there in the hills, where I too live. My family is here at the port just for one week, a little more. I think he could take you as a shop boy giving you the means to live. So we could see each other and spend some time together. Are you game?"
"Why not, sure!"
"Come, then. I'll first introduce you to my father and my mother then, with them, we will see if Uncle Francesco will take you in his shop."
"But... what will you tell to your family? What will they say seeing I'm wearing your clothes?"
"I'll just tell them the truth - you were robbed and I helped you. Well, only this part of the truth, of course, not what we did..." he said with a giggle.
So I lived in Recanati, for three years. I worked in the shop and became the intimate friend of Carlo. Well, you know, I thought you had been killed..."
Gaetano smiled and nodded, "Go on..." he said tenderly.
"Carlo and I weren't really lovers, just two friends who loved being together, who loved making love together. But we were well that way. I found a small room without windows in the hall of a building and at evening Carlo was often coming to see me. We closed the door, undressed and lay down on my mattress and spent a good time together. Even though he was younger than me, possibly thank to his experiences with sailors, I don't know, but he was really good in making love. Then he fell in love with the youngest son of Marchioness Passeri, a twenty-two-years-old man, and became his lover. Therefore he didn't come any more to make love with me. I then felt I had no more reason to remain in that small town where I had no friends. I was not unhappy working for Master Francesco, he was a good man and treated me well. I was also learning a new job. But the idea to leave was growing in me.
The occasion came on the day of Saint Vito's Fair, the Recanati saint patron. I was looking at the balloon game from the ramparts of the old city walls, when I noticed near me a man, not yet in his thirties. He was dressed in a curious way, somewhat showy, original. He was a handsome man, with a merry face and an open smile. He was following the game with passion, yelling from time to time in his excitement.
When he noticed I was looking at him, he smiled, winked at me and said: "I would never get tired to look at them playing: what men! Strong, handsome, in the spring of their youth! Is that not a real sight?"
I noticed he had a foreign accent. We chatted for a while and I came to understand he was coming from the Two Sicilies Kingdom. He was a wandering tumbler and was touring from fair to fair. He showed me a small book he had in his pocket, where were printed all the dates and places of the fairs, an almanac I mean, and showed me his program.
We chatted some more, then he wanted to offer me some wine and we went to sit in a tavern. Then he invited me to go and see his "home". It was a cart covered by a tent, pulled by a mule that he parked near Saint Francis church, outside the town walls. When inside his cart, he showed me some of his trophies and souvenirs. I asked him about his job and he told me.
Then he said: "You know I'm also a contortionist." And showed me some incredible poses: he seemed made of rubber. I laughed aloud and made the gesture to applaud at him. Then he sat down, smiling.
"Are you easily scandalized?" he asked me with a malicious wink.
"No..." I answered, without knowing the reason of that question.
"No, eh? Then I'll show you a special exercise I never showed to anyone... look..." and there, in his small cart, under my unbelieving eyes, he bent, bent on himself, his body took the shape of a ring, only his shoulders still on the floor. Then he rummaged in his breeches, opened them, pulled out his long and hard tool, pointed it to his mouth, bent some more until more than one third of it was inside his mouth... end started to suck himself!
I was looking at him totally bewildered, my eyes wide open. The man sucked himself for a good while then assumed again his normal position, sitting in front of me, his legs wide spread, his breeches open, his tool exposed, glistening with saliva, hard and pulsating.
"Did you see?" he asked, triumphant.
"Yes... unbelievable!" I said, still amazed, and instinctively stretched out may hand and touched his tool. He smiled and let me touch it.
"How does it feel doing it by oneself?" I asked.
"Well... good. But doing it each to other is a lot better, don't you think?"
I nodded yes and without the need of more words, bent on his lap and continued what he started. He then rummaged in my breeches, opened them, pulled out mine and gave me the same good service.
At the end, after we both drank from each other the warm seed, he sat up again and said: "Yeah, a lot better with each other. But... my name is Enzo. Yours?"
"Maso."
"Maso, wouldn't you like coming away with me?"
I accepted at once. Went to say good bye to master Francesco, to Carlo, took my few belongings, went back to Enzo's cart and we left the town. Enzo taught me some ability games (not only the erotic ones, where he was anyway skilled) and I started to perform with him from fair to fair, from town to village. And we made love every night. Enzo was not a romantic guy like you or me. To him, making love was more an instinct to appease, like eating. But he did it in a very pleasant way. We remained together for four years, always without problems. That roving life had its hardship, but also its fascination.
We were in Florence. After our show one of the audiences came to talk with us. He praised us for our skill, mainly Enzo, asked us from where we were, if we were relatives... and he offered us a supper at the nearby inn. We never refused such offers. During the meal the man excused himself and went to the toilet.
Then Enzo told me: "Did you notice how he was looking at you? He is dying to make love with you. He is a handsome man, rich, kind..."
"Come on!" I said, having noticed nothing.
"I know such things at first sight, and never am wrong, as I understood about you that day. There is a certain way of looking, a certain special light in the eyes. That man desires you, listen to me. But do you like him?"
"Well, yes, he is really a handsome man, but..."
"And wouldn't you make love with him?"
"I really would, but... No problems with you?"
"Why? We are two free birds, you and I. When he is back, I'll go to the toilet, so I'll leave you two alone. Play your cards; Maso, let him understand you are game. A lost occasion never comes a second time, remember that!"
And so it happened. The man came back and Enzo let us alone. I then showed to be very interested to him and he was game and from word to word, from smile to smile, we played our cards.
"And you never married?"
"Yes, when I was twenty years old I did that mistake, but I left her just a few months after and was again free... like the air."
"Why, did she cheat on you?"
"No, I just understood that performing my husband's duties with her was more and heavier for me. I understood that, in reality, it would be hard, for me, with any woman, not just her..."
"Really! I too, in fact, am absolutely not interested in women... I can understand you..."
He then stopped playing with words, put his hand on mine and said: "On the contrary you attract me so very much. Just being near you makes me totally aflame."
"The same for me..."
"Tell me, the juggler is your lover?"
"No, we are just friends."
"Therefore... you can come to my place, tonight..."
"If you desire... it would be a real pleasure."
"So, after the supper, we said good bye to Enzo and I followed that man to his home. I was excited. Really just being near him put me aflame, he was so sexy... Oh, Tano, I have not really to say such things to you... forgive me!"
"Don't worry. You believed I was dead, I understand very well. I too, as I'll tell you later... But go on, now, please." told him Gaetano, tenderly caressing him.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 10
In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is http://andrejkoymasky.com If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English translations, so that I can put on-line more of my stories in English please e-mail at andrej@andrejkoymasky.com ---------------------------