RICARDO by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2009 written on on June 2, 2002 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Randhir
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"RICARDO" 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 1 - TODAY
On my way out of the bathroom, I stop in front of the mirror and look at myself - I'm not bad, for my age.
I never thought myself to be handsome, but not ugly either. Just, in these days, looking again at my old pictures, I found one shot when I was twenty and thought that at that age I was a really handsome boy. But at that time, like now, I thought I was not handsome, but neither ugly. A plain guy, as it is usually said.
I look at my hair that are starting to become gray and to thin a little; the decline has now started, I tell myself. Thats not a problem I say to myself, it is natural. On the back of my hands some light cappuccino colour small spots are starting to appear. But my body is still lean; I don't even have a hint of paunch. My skin is still elastic and between my legs I'm not at all bad, not super-endowed, but nothing to be ashamed of, compared to other men. Possibly a little bit over the average.
Who knows why, some more some less, we give such an importance to its size? Isn't it an absolutely silly thing? I know it is so, and yet at times even I too fall for it.
My eyes leave for a moment the analysis of my body, and move just a fraction but enough to see reflected in the mirror, Ricardo. With one only "c".
He really is beautiful! He wears his twenty-one years with the typical carelessness of his age, he wears his beauty with the same ease, and this is quite rare. When I tell him he is beautiful, he answers, "Come on!" and he is sincere, it's not a pose. He is not aware of being so very beautiful. How does he?
I'm totally in love with him, after two years. Or rather three, but it is two years we have been living together. Three years ago - I feel it was just yesterday. He was eighteen; he had lost puppy eyes but already a colt's body - slender, sinewy, elegant, firm and smoothÉ a thoroughbred colt. To lose one's head for him and in fact I lost it. It is my luck that he is a deeply good-hearted boy, as he could do anything wished to me.
It is just two years now that we have been living together and yet it is like as if we were together forever. I perfectly remember the first day I saw him, the first night we made love, the day he came to live with meÉ yesterday and yet an aeon ago. It is true that love cancels time and therefore possibly also the age difference.
Bah! If he were not so good-hearted, I possibly would not have fallen in love to this degree. Who knows? It is said that the first love is never forgotten, and in part it is true. It is said that the last love seems always the most beautiful, but I believe that this is less true. But the love between Ricardo and me is special, I really never before experienced something so intense and so sweet. Our love is beautiful. Ricardo is beautiful.
He is beautiful, yes. Waiting for me to end my shower, he fell asleep, languidly lying naked on the bed, his body uncovered.
I turn towards him, go near the bed and hesitate - I wouldn't wake him up. I want to fill my eyes and my heart with his vision. They could be the eyes of love, but each time I can contemplate him, his body seems perfect to me. Nature has been generous to him, both physically and for his personality - it gave him several gifts.
At times I ask myself, "Can it really last? I am more than twice his ageÉ" I can't tell him about this question - he says that we talked about it too much, and he becomes upset.
"Of course it will last, if you don't grow tired with me!" he says, determined.
"But what can you find in one like me?" I was asking him the first few times.
And he hurled back, "And you in me, then?"
We don't ask that any more, I don't want to anger him. Anyway he is very beautiful even when he is upset. When he is upset with me, his face colours with indignation, sorrow, and irritation and yet his eyes all the same express love and they seem to say, imploring, almost with pain, "Why are we angry with each other, when you and I who love each other so much?"
Anyway it happens very seldom - he seems happy being with me. I am happy. Therefore, let's be quiet, he would say. My Ricardo with just one "c".
I draw nearer to him, hesitate, but at the end bend down to kiss him on his lips, very lightly, until he opens his eyes and I feel lost in his smile.
He pulls me to himself and merrily whispers, "My man!"
I feel I'm melting entirely for the emotion and inside me I yell him, "I love you!" but I just whisper it.
He makes me go on top of him, hugs me tight and says, sweetly, "If you stop loving me, I will die."
"Do you fear it could happen?" I ask him in a whisper, caressing him.
"NoÉ" he says with radiant eyes.
"So, then, why you said you would die?" I insist, kissing him.
"Because it is true, I became aware that I couldn't any more be without you."
"When did you become aware of it?"
"Each time you make love to me and I make love to youÉ"
He doesn't say "with", but "to". And this is not because he still doesn't speak perfectly Italian, these two prepositions are used in the same way also in Portuguese - to him it is so, not "with" but "to". "With", he explained me when I tried to correct him, means two people near each other. "To" on the contrary, means just one thing.
"Just one thing?" I asked him without understanding.
"I didn't study, but I know it is as I say." he said with a smile.
So, we make love to each other, Ricardo and I.
"You're beautiful." he says.
I accept it, I know I am at his eyes, and it pleases me. To me it's enough being so for him.
"I'm yours." I tell him full of an uncontrollable joy.
"I know, I too am; all yours, only yours." he murmurs and kisses me.
We stop talking; we are lost in each other, happily lost, while the pendulum-clock in the living room strikes three for the night.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 2
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