THE INHERITANCE by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2008 written on December 9, 1993 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Bob
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"THE INHERITANCE" 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.
EIGHT TAPE
"Oh, goodness, you fucked me... you fucked my arse..." he moaned while I was slipping out of him.
I forced him to turn towards me, but he avoided looking at me.
"And you liked it, didn't you?" I whispered.
"Yes, but... but now... I'm feeling ashamed."
"But why?"
"I thought I was... a male."
"And you are an all-male, or else I wouldn't have liked you."
"But I took it in my arse and I enjoyed it!" he complained.
"I too love taking it in my arse. If you want to fuck me, I'm game."
"No... I'm worn out."
"If you want, I can make it hard again."
"No... I enjoyed being fucked... I'm a faggot..."
"Well? What's wrong with that?"
"I came just being fucked..." he repeated with a moan.
"Hey, look, it's just normal. Lots of people love it. What's wrong with it?" I asked again.
"It's that... I didn't enjoy sex so much even when I fucked a girl." he answered, troubled.
I realized he was almost crying, tears were filling his eyes. I kissed him. At first he resisted me, but then, all of a sudden, he yielded and returned my kiss. But tears were abundantly flowing down his cheeks. Then he moved back from me and looked at me with a hesitant expression.
"I'm a whore aren't I?" he asked with a sob.
"You're a wonderful boy, and anything but a whore."
"And you... you want to fuck me again?"
"Yes, sure. If you will come here again tomorrow, I'll fuck you."
"Yes, again tomorrow... again..." he murmured in a dejected tone.
We dressed. He gathered his belongings and made as if to go away. I took out my wallet but he stopped me with a gesture.
"No... if you give me some money now I'll rally feel like a whore, won't I?" he murmured.
"No, you are not a whore, alright. Will you come, tomorrow?"
"Yes..." he said and ran away.
I could understand he was deeply troubled, but I felt he would come again. I didn't see him for two days and I thought that on thinking about it with a cold mind, a shame feeling overcame him. I could understand that it is not easy to accept oneself being gay. But the third day someone rang the doorbell. Tina called me downstairs.
"It's for you, Stefano!" she yelled up the staircase.
I went downstairs and when I saw him, I smiled, happily. He became as red as a lobster.
"You came..." I said.
"Yes... I didn't want to, but... But you aren't alone... When can we meet?" he asked, deeply embarrassed, almost whispering.
"Come upstairs... We will be safe."
"I... I would like... doing it again..."
"Yes, sure, me too."
I took him upstairs in the guest room and locked the door with the key. Then I opened his trousers lowering them to his knees, I lowered mine too and embracing him from back, brushed my cock already hard between his buttocks.
"Oh, goodness... I couldn't wait any more... Fuck me!" he murmured.
"No, first suck me for a while. Then you put a condom on me - last time we were wrong not to have used it... And then I'll put it inside you and fuck you..."
He turned, crouched in front of me and docilely did all I asked of him. He had all the enthusiasm and the devotion of a neophyte. After he had slipped on me the condom, I had him lay on his back, on the bed, raised his legs on my shoulders and standing up near the bed, I took him with real gusto and reciprocal pleasure. After I came into him, I asked him if he wanted to try to take me but he almost bashfully asked me if I could make him come with a blow job. I complied with pleasure.
Later we talked for some time. He was full of questions about the new dimension he had just discovered in himself. I suggested that he could possibly be bisexual, not gay and thus he now had twice the choice than before... But he told me that he never before had such strong orgasms... He came to be taken by me some five or six more times, until my vacation was over.
"How can I manage to find a companion, now?" he asked me after the last time we made love, while we were dressing.
"There are plenty like you and me." I answered.
"Yes, you told me so, but... how can I recognize them?"
"You will gradually get an experience..." I said.
Then I explained him that certain way to look, the possible ways to approach, how to try to hook someone without compromising himself too much. He asked questions, often na•ve ones, and I tried to give him the most exhaustive answers.
When we said goodbye, he said, "I will never forget you. You have been my first man. You made me discover a world I didn't even guess could exist... I will miss you..."
Back in Turin, Domenico checked all the items I bought in Genoa and gave me his compliments.
"It's good stuff and you paid a good price. Bravo."
"I could possibly have got it at a lower price, but they were old people needing the money, so I didn't have the heart to pay them less..." I justified myself.
"You did very well, Stefano. We have to care for ourselves of course, but without profiting from others' need, without being heartless, without cheating the others." Domenico said.
I was really pleased at these words.
Domenico turned seventy-one and we threw a nice birthday party for him. On that occasion Domenico told me he intended to stop working in the shop and therefore I had to manage it. I answered him that it was alright with me, but that in my opinion, as he still was so strong and in good health, it would be better for him if he continued to come to the shop so as not to get bored all the day at home.
So he continued to come, but it was now me who was going to buy new items, who fixed their price and who told Anselmo what he had to restore and how. Also at home, Domenico wanted that it was with me that Tina discussed the things to be done, the menu and so on. He had handed over to me although I was just twenty-two years old.
The twenty-first of November I went to the printers shop to have new guarantee certificate cards printed, for the items we had for sale. I left the shop around ten in the morning. When I got back to our shop it was eleven thirty. In front of our shop there was an ambulance and a small crowd. Anselmo came towards me.
"Domenico..." he said, and his voice trembled.
"Did he have... a seizure?" I asked, worried.
"No... he's... he left us..." he said almost in a whisper.
My heart stopped beating. "He... is he... dead?" I asked unbelieving.
"Yes."
"But... but he was in good health!" I protested, my eyes swelling with tears.
"Just half an hour ago... I heard a sudden noise in the shop... I went to see... he was lying there, in front of the convent table, prone on the floor... He didn't breathe any more... I called the ambulance, then called the printer but you were already coming..."
"Dead! But how? And why?" I asked going to the ambulance.
"You, step back." the nurse said sharply to me.
"He's his son." Anselmo explained.
"Oh, sorry..." said the nurse.
"Can I come with you?" I asked.
"Yes, of course. Are you coming to the hospital?" asked the nurse.
"Yes..." I said getting in.
Anselmo told me, "I'll take care of the shop."
"Yes, thank you. Shut it and put a note on the shutter." I said him.
I sat near the stretcher and moved the sheet away from Domenico's face. He seemed as if he was merely sleeping. His expression was serene. I cried. The ambulance left.
The doctors said it had been an infarction, he was dead instantly, without suffering. At least that - without suffering...
I send a telegram to my family. Then arranged an undertaker for the funeral. At the funeral there were few people - my family, Tina, Anselmo, a few neighbouring shop keepers, two or three acquaintances who read the obituary in the Stampa newspaper. We went to the cemetery then back home. I said farewell to my family who went back to our village the same day. I don't know why, but I had been sure that Domenico would live at least another twenty years! His sudden departure left in me a great emptiness.
In the following days I had to face the thankless task of check all Domenico's private belongings - I had to decide what to keep and what to dispose of. I asked Tina to gather all Domenico's clothes, put them in cartons and take them to the Cottolengo for the poor. I kept some of his papers and threw away some others. I kept all his pictures. And for the first time I saw the pictures of the women that Domenico had loved. In the back of each them Domenico, with his elegant handwriting wrote the names, dates, places and some short notes.
There was also a picture of me when I just came to his home and was seventeen. On the back there were the usual notes and the words, "I have finally got a son!" I cried. I spent with him only five years, but I really got to love him like a father.
There were also some pictures of him in his youth - he was really a handsome boy, I thought. Some were in army uniform. He did his army service around the end of World War 2. A handsome young soldier... Then the pictures of his weddings and so on more pictures. He never showed me them, before, and now I was looking at them with a mix of affection and mourning.
A few days later I resumed going to the shop - life went on. I had chosen the most beautiful pictures of Domenico, put them in the most beautiful frames we had in the shop, and put some of them at home and some in the shop.
I was uncertain about continuing to sleep in my bedroom or whether to move to that of Domenico. I felt that the apartment was now even too big. I decided for the moment to continue using my room. The days passed without Domenico seemed so empty! It had been so good talking with him about so many different matters. I had spent with him the most beautiful five years of my life.
I carried out all the succession paperwork and paid the taxes. Everything was now registered in my name and I was rich. His bank account was large; I didn't know or guess he had such a big amount of money. It would have been enough to live on its income, and moreover the shop was very profitable.
Months elapsed and Spring came. The pain of Domenico's loss was slowly lessening even though I was still missing him very much. I started to meet again some of my old gay friends and also, little by little, to have a few adventures.
Some time later Tina decided to retire and left me. I then thought of Marcos, Malik's boyfriend. I went to visit them and suggested to Marcos that he come and work for me. If he cared for the shop and for the apartment I could offer him a full time job and pay him a good salary. Having as a housekeeper a gay boy would also give me much more freedom. Marcos accepted but made it quite clear that he didn't intend having physical relations with me. I reassured him telling him that, although I liked him, I would have respected without any doubt his choice.
I came to know him better - he was a merry and agreeable boy, and he worked diligently and really well. He was both fast and accurate and if some times he found me in bed with one of my conquests, then there were no problems.
I had also renewed friendship with Lorenzo and Sergio, who were still together and who, very wisely didn't want any more a third one in their bed. I also went on seeing Giacomo and Mattia, besides Malik, of course. But with all of them there was now just friendship, nothing sexual. I was also still corresponding with Lars and Piet. Almost by accident, I met again Roberto and Marco, my old friends of Prea, who were now living in Turin. Roberto had a greengrocery at the Crocetta market and Marco was working as a caretaker at the Arts Institute. They were living together and were a nice couple. But also with them I didn't have anything sexual, because they were in love and of course there was no place for a third one in their relationship.
They told me that Giovanni was now married, as well as Michele. Alessandro, instead, had moved to Tuscany, near Prato, with a man he met while doing his army service and whom lover he had became. They were both working together on an estate where they produced wine.
I was gradually gathering a nice collection of gay movies videotapes, those porno of Cadinot, whose collection I was gradually completing, and those not porno but with a subject or content more or less explicitly gay. I also started to buy several novels and essays with a gay subject.
Everything was proceeding nicely.
It was mid-May when one evening somebody rang the doorbell. I went to open it and found a nineteen years old boy there.
"Excuse me, is mister Domenico Boetto at home?" he asked me.
"May I ask who wants him?"
"My name is Domenico Scanferla... I would like to see him..."
"Well... Domenico passed away about six months ago. I am his son, can you tell me what this is about?"
The boy widened his eyes, "Dead? He too?"
"Yes... why are you saying 'he too'? Who else is dead?" I asked, astounded by his odd reaction.
But the boy, instead of answering me, asked, "You said... you are his son?"
"Yes, I am Stefano Boetto. Didn't you see my name on the door-bell plate?"
"Yes, I did... I didn't know he had another son..."
"Another? How another? What do you mean?" I asked, trying to understand.
He looked at me, seemed to hesitate then asked me, "May I come in? Just for a few minutes..."
"Yes, please, come in I said and guided him to the lounge. "So, tell me..."
"Well, I... I hoped I could meet him... but I came too late..." the boy said.
I looked at him carefully and tried to understand. - he was incredibly like some pictures of the young Domenico. Only his hair cut was modern, but he had the same wide mouth with the corners slightly bending upwards, the same straight and strong nose, the same large eyes...
"Are you by any chance a relative of Domenico?" I asked him.
"My mother told me I am his son..." he said simply.
"Who is your mother?"
"Her name was Sandra Scanferla..."
"Sandra? She was Sandra?"
"She died in February. She never before told me my father's name. But just before dying... she told me that my father's name was Domenico Boetto and that's the reason why my name is Domenico even though everybody calls me Mimmo..."
"Oh my god! Domenico had desired all his life long to have a son! He desired it so much... and he had one though he never knew! Your mother, is that the reason why she left Turin some nineteen or twenty years ago? She was pregnant with you by Domenico... But why didn't she tell him?"
"Because Mum didn't want him to think that she got pregnant by him just to frame him, just for his money."
"But he would have been so happy! He loved your mother, and he always desired so much to have a son!"
"And he had you."
"I was his nephew, and he adopted me five years ago... He would have recognized you, if he would have known about you. He would have given you his name... And now all this would be yours, not mine..."
"It is not for that I came here. I just wanted to meet him. Anyway, it is now all yours. Even if I wanted, I have no means to demonstrate I am his son. I don't even demand you to believe I am..."
"But I believe you are. I have some pictures of Domenico at your age, you could be twins... You are too much like him not to be his son. Moreover Sandra, your mother... Domenico told me about her. He really loved her..."
"May I... may I see those pictures?"
"Yes, of course. But where are you living, at present?"
"In Mantova. But now that my mother has died... money is ending, I have to leave our apartment."
"Don't you have a job?"
"No. I just graduated last July as a surveyor but I couldn't find any job. Sincerely... I didn't come to ask him for money... and neither to be recognized by him... But I thought he could possibly help me in finding a job... But above all... I would have liked to finally get to know my father. But at this point... If you would kindly just show me those pictures, I will be off."
I went to get the pictures and handed them to him, including the one with his mother which Domenico had kept. While he was thumbing through the pictures, visibly moved, I was looking at him with care and interest. He was really a handsome boy, his face was honest and sweet. And he was surely Domenico's son. Even though he legally had no right to anything, I could morally not simply let him go away. The more so as he needed some help.
Mimmo pointed at one of the pictures and asked, "Do you mind if... if I take this picture?"
"Of course not. It's yours."
"Thank you. I can go, now."
"Wait. Where are you going?"
"To the railway station to take the first train going back."
"And what will you do, then?"
"I don't know... In one way or another... I will get by."
"Domenico would not have let you go like this."
"But he is dead!"
"But I am here! I know that you are the son he always desired and I would like to give you a hand."
"Give me a hand?"
"Yes. Listen... would you like to work with me?"
"In the antiques shop?"
"Right. I would appreciate a helper."
"But I know nothing about antiques..."
"This is not a problem. Do you accept?"
"Are you serious? You are really offering me a job?"
"It is the least I can do for you..."
"You are kind..."
"No, I'm just doing what Domenico for sure would have done."
"Did you love him?"
"Yes, very much."
"How was, my father?" he asked, with a sweet voice.
I then started to tell him about Domenico. He was listening to me, absorbed; he nodded, asked some questions. That boy to me was not only the natural, if illegitimate, son of Domenico, but he was also a boy attracting me very much. I wanted to do something for him because it was fair, but, sincerely, I also desired him to be near me... We talked for a long time.
Then I asked him, "Did you have your supper?"
"No."
"I neither. Come in the other room, we will share what I have."
"Thank you." he said simply.
We ate and talked more about Domenico.
Then I told him, "Listen, you must sleep here tonight, the apartment is big. Then tomorrow, if you want, we will sign the hiring papers. Then you can go back to Mantova to close the apartment and fetch your belongings and come back here."
"Here at your place?"
"Why not? It is your father's home. Isn't it?"
"Our... our father's home."
"Yes, alright. Do you accept, then?"
"Well... a house, a work, a brother... I would be fool not to accept. But are you sure you want me here? With you?"
"I feel you are a fair boy and also a likeable guy. I think we can get on well together, we two."
"But... didn't you think I could possibly be a conman?" he asked.
"Yes, I thought you could be. But it seems totally unlikely. You are too much like Domenico not to be his son."
"Well, I... I brought with me these papers to show them to Domenico... I found them at home, after my Mum's death."
He handed me a big envelope in linen brown paper. Inside there were pictures of Domenico with Sandra, I recognized her, and some letters that Domenico had sent to Sandra before their son's birth, a gold ring with a tiny brilliant, Mimmo's birth certificate where was written "father unknown" and some more items.
I examined everything carefully then said, "I believed you even before, Mimmo. Anyway I have now not the least doubt. This is your home."
"Thank you. I will try not to be a bother to you."
"I really think you won't. Listen, you can choose - you can sleep in Domenico's room, or in the guests room. Which would you like?"
"My father's room, if I may."
"Sure. Come, I'll show you and also show you the rest of the apartment."
So Mimmo that night slept in Domenico's room. The day after we signed his work contract, with which I hired him as a shop assistant, giving him a decidedly high salary, that amazed him. He then went back to Mantova to close his mother's apartment, that was just rented and to take his personal things and what he desired to keep. He came back to Turin three days later and settled with me in the apartment.
In those three days I had briefed Marcos and with his help we gathered all my gay things, putting them all in my room.
Mimmo was a companion, reserved, quiet yet merry. I liked him very much and was feeling more and more attracted to him. He gradually started to open up with me and I with him and we started to tell each other parts and details about our lives. I really liked that boy a lot and was feeling more and more torn if I could let him understand the attraction I was feeling for him or if it would be better if I silenced it and treated him just as a friend and a brother.
My desire for him was increasing day by day also the fact that he was so much like a young Domenico, was doing nothing but increase my desire for him. I decided to register my car in his name as I was always using the one which had belonged to Domenico. Mimmo thanked me and was very happy.
I was feeling all I was doing for him was his due, but to him everything was an unexpected gift and he was always grateful to me.
CONTINUES IN TAPE 9
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