THE MERCHANT OF VENICE Or The Twenty-Four Nights of Lorenzo and Poletto by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006 written the 17th of June, 1991 translated by the author English text kindly revised by John
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"THE MERCHANT OF VENICE" 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 22 EIGHTEENTH NIGHT The mysterious lover
Lorenzo turned towards Poletto, "That's enough for today, we can go back home. Did you observe everything carefully? Are you starting to realize what trading work consists of?"
"Yes, master, and I am afraid I will never learn. One needs to know the wares very well, then also to understand what passes through the people's mind, and also to be able to haggle over the prices..."
"Poletto, this is just your first day... At the beginning all could seem complex, but as I learned and as also Prema and Ibrahim and the others did, and they were neither more educated nor more intelligent than you, you surely will learn as well. And this, even more because you know that the prize for learning is that I will take you with me in my journeys..."
"Yes, master, I will do my best and I hope not to disappoint you. But for the moment I only have a great confusion in my head."
Lorenzo, profiting from the fact that they were alone, took Poletto astride on his legs, embraced and kissed him, then lowered a hand to caress him between his legs and felt the rising erection palpitate under the clothes.
With a sweet smile, he said, "I think it would be better if we go home immediately, now, or else I will be tempted to do it here..."
"There isn't a safe, restful place here in the warehouse?"
"No, Poletto, at least as long as there are people around."
"It's a pity. I'm sorry I have to wait until after supper. I can feel that also yours is already awake and primed..."
"It would be better you get off my legs and we stop touching each other in this way. Well, let me give the last orders for the closing, then we'll go. Meanwhile, go and see they prepare the small gondola."
Back at the mansion they had supper, then Lorenzo stopped to talk with the secretary and the house personnel while Poletto, as he was used to do, went upstairs to his master's room to prepare it and make himself ready. Finally Lorenzo also went upstairs.
"Poletto, if you don't feel cold, uncover yourself, as I want to look at you while I undress."
"I'll come and undress you, master."
"No, stay on the bed and touch and caress yourself, get aroused..."
"I don't need to touch myself; look, it is already erect and hard!"
As soon as Lorenzo untied his breeches, his beautiful, turgid and throbbing member jumped out, and Poletto stretched his head out of the bed.
"Fuck my mouth with your beautiful rod, master, while you finish undressing yourself."
"Yes, but then lie on your back and touch and beat yourself while I slip it in your mouth... Good, so, turn your head back... yes... so... take it."
While he was pushing it inside, Lorenzo finished undressing, then bent on the bed, on Poleto, until he could take all the boy's pole between his lips. Continuing to fuck that greedy mouth, he skillfully sucked the boy until both could taste the sweet fruit of their orgasms.
Then Lorenzo climbed on the bed, embraced the boy and kissed him in the mouth.
"That was just an advance, my dear Poletto." He sid with a smile.
"I know, dear master. The settlement comes after the story, right?"
"Yes, and I really believe that you will like today's story. So, now listen.
We reached Alexandria in Egypt, and there I had Alfèo embarked for Syracuse, after a last night of love. I was staying in an inn not far from the port, waiting for the return of the merchant who had to change my letter of credit, so that I could finally come back to Venice.
To make the time pass, I often loafed about in one of the port premises where, between one mint tea and another, I could chat with one of the many passing sailors, Turk, Greek, Genoese or Venitian, Spanish or Portuguese, and Dalmatian, French or Algerian whose ships stopped at that port.
As you can well guess, this was also an occasion to be able to meet interesting guys and to have the opportunity, every now and then, to take one of them to my bed. In fact, sailors are often more than willing and in that diverse population there was the occasion to amuse themselves. I can say that the nights when I had to sleep alone were rare.
But on one night when I had to resign myself to go back to the inn without a mate, I had barely hit the bed and was almost falling asleep, when a peculiar sensation awakened me again - somebody was sucking my tool, with real skill, and it was already hard for the pleasure.
At first I remained still and in silence to enjoy that unforeseen but really agreable visit. The room was in almost total darkness so that I could really not see the face of my unknown lover.
I stretched out a hand to caress him - at first I felt a mane of soft hair, slightly wavy and not very long. Continuing my caress-exploration with both hands, I felt a fine and regular face, with a straight and proportioned nose, a neck with a barely jutting Adam's apple, wide shoulders, muscled arms and a skin smooth like that of a ripe peach. His chest had almost no hair and was firm, his belly flat and hollow.
The mental image I was shaping was that of a youth, possibly of fine appearance, anyway well built. I then asked that invisible and agreeable intruder, in a whisper, "Who are you?"
He didn't answer but carried on his service, sucking it with unchanged skill and devotion.
I again asked, "Who are you? I like how you are sucking me... Tell me, who are you?"
No answer came, almost as if he didn't hear me. I was curious but also pleased, so that I didn't insist and let him continuue his pleasurable work. When I reached the acme of pleasure, I my orgasm exploded and gave him all my seed, which he drank with fast gulps.
Then, satisfied, I said, "Come now on the bed, I want to make you enjoy as well."
But I felt him departing, then heard like a rustle, then nothing more. I took the flint-lock I had near the bed, gave it several strokes until I got a spark and lighted the lamp. The room was empty.
I got up, checked the door, the window, but both were still closed from inside as I had left them before hitting the bed. In the room there were no possible hiding-places. Where could that unexpected but appreciated guest have disappeared to? I postponed a more careful investigation to the morrow, went back to bed and fell asleep, full of curiosity but also fully satisfied.
But in the morning, when I carefully checked everyting, I could find nothing at all. A suspicion came to my mind, so I checked my belongings, but nothing was missing. He could not have passed by the window, as not only it was shut, but was also protected by solid bars crossed in narrow meshes. The door, even if he could open it from outside in a way or another, squeaked when opened or closed, and on the previous night it didn't made any noise. Or did I possibly not have noticed it? I could have possibly covered that noise when I was hitting the flint-lock and leaving the bed?
No matter how it was, how weird it could be, it had been a really enjoyable experience.
The following night I took an agreable Algerian sailor to my room, youthful and very willing, with whom I amused myself for some time so that I didn't think any more about the mysterious visit of the previous night.
But the following night I was again alone and in the depth of the night I was woken up once again by that mysterious, unknown lover. When I touched him in the dark, I was sure he was the same person who came two nights before. This time my hands reached also his member, which he had already fully erect. It was of good size, smooth and straight, circumcised, and hard as a rock. As he was circumcised, he had to be an Arab or a Jew, I thought. I made him draw nearer to me and I started to suck him at my turn. The stranger let me do so. He was standing at the side of my bed and was bending over me to reach with my tool his mouth, and I had to raise myself a little on my side and stretch out of the bed to reach his pole. The hairs surrounding it were thick, curled and soft. His ass was small and firm.
I came before him but went on sucking, preventing him leaving. When, after a short while, he also came, I decided to talk with him again.
"I want to meet you, to know you; I like how you make love. Tell me who you are, let me recognize you."
While I was telling him that, I was keeping him half-embraced and caressed his naked buttocks. He didn't speak. It seemed like if he wanted embrace me and bend again on me to make me move to give him room. Thinking he wanted to lie near me, I let him go and pushed with my arms on the mattress and moved, making room for him. But I heard the usual rustle and then nothing more.
Again, lighting the lamp, I looked around but there was no more trace of him. I thought that by the way he had to go out of my room totally naked, as I was sure he was wearing nothing and he certainly could not have had the time to dress. Who, even if in the depth of the night, could go around totally naked? Possibly one of the other guests of the inn, or a member of the staff working there. And also, how come the door was not squeaking when he used it?
I then thought that possibly there could be another passage that I didn't know, some kind of secret passage. So, the following morning, I carefully checked all the walls, the floor and the ceiling, but found no trace of a possible, hidden, secret passage.
When I went downstairs, I looked at and studied all the men staying or working in the inn, but none of them seemed to correspond to what my hands had touched. As he was circumcised, anyway as I had already thought, he had to be an inhabitant of the Mediterranean area, even if not necessarily of Arab or Jewish blood. But this consideration didn't give me any useful clues to discover who my mysterious lover could be. Moreover, nobody seemed to have an attitude towards me that could make me suspect he was the unknown nocturnal visitor.
I was more and more intrigued and decided to discover his identity. I made several plans, thought about many solutions. At last the more simplest seemed to me to go to sleep leaving my lamp lit and also to carefully block the door from inside, tieing the bolt with a string so that nobody could open it from outside.
For a while I did not fall asleep. But then, after I finally plunged into sleep, I was waken up in the usual way. The lamp had been shut off. With my hands I felt he was the usual mysterious visitor. This time, instead of enjoying what he was doing to me and reciprocate, I seized his wrists, decided to discover his identity.
"I won't let you go until I know who you are." I told him. "Answer me, how do you manage to get in here and who are you?"
He didn't try to wriggle free from my hands but neither did he answer me. I insisted, trying to entice him. Thinking that he possibly didn't understand Arabic, I addressed to him in the various languages I know, but he persisted in keeping silent. I then took again the flint-lock trying to make fire but so doing I had to release him and when I finally was able to light the lamp, the stranger was gone.
The door was untouched, still blocked with the string. He surely didn't go out from there. At that point I was more determined than ever to find the key to that mystery. When the morning came, I went to speak with the inn owner, complaining with him that somebody during the night entered in my room. The man seemed surprised, especially when I told him that I had blocked the door and that, therefore, he could not have passed through it. He came with me to check the bars of the window, but they were really solid and between the bars could possibly pass a cat but surely not a man and nor even a child, and anyway my visitor was without any doubt an adult man.
At the end the inn-keeper concluded that I had to have dreamed everything. But I was certain that the fact that happened for three nights was real and not the fruit of a dream or of a fantasy.
On the fourth night I didn't bring anybody in my room. I shut the door and as a further security I blocked it with my heavy trunk. Then, besides leaving three lanterns lit, when I went to bed I sprinkled on the floor some flour - if that night the unknown man came again, I decided, I would make love with him without speaking, without trying to block him. But on the following morning I would see his footprints and discover from where he entered.
I fell asleep quietly. At night I was again woken up by the usual skilled and sensual mouth on my hard rod. The three lanterns were shut off. I succeeded in making him come on the bed and enjoyed him without a word, I offered myself to him, who understood and penetrated me with artful, long and measured strokes, enjoying me and making me enjoy our union very much.
After he came inside me, he caressed me for a while, then slipped away and get off the bed. A light rustle, then silence. Smiling, I fell again asleep, quiet and satisfied. When I woke up in the morning, I immediately looked on the floor - there were traces of naked feet. I followed them with my eyes and was dumbfounded, unbeleving, unable to trust my own sight. There were several confused footprints near my bed, but they didn't go or come from any point of the room! It had not been a dream, nor was a spirit the one who had penetrated me (I still could feel the signs and traces between my buttocks), and someone had left his footprints in flour on the floor.
Puzzled, I pondered that riddle for a long time upon. The only solution could be that he let himself down from a trapdoor in the ceiling, even though it seemed that there wasn't one. I studied the ceiling for a good while. If I had a ladder I could have checked it from nearer and better. But I didn't feel like talking about that matter with the inn-keeper again.
During the day, while I was strolling through the bazaar, I saw some wide, light nets for sale, the kind to be put around a bed as mosquito curtains. I had an idea. I bought four of them wide enough, and also some string and a big needle, then some nails. Back in my room, I sewed the four curtains together to make a single one which I fixed on the walls, horizontally, sufficently high to be able to stand under it. If he let himself down from the ceiling, he would get entangled in the net.
Happy with my work, at night I went to bed again without taking with me anyone. I didn't even leave the lamps alight so that my mysterious visitor could not notice the net. I fell asleep almost immediately.
I was woken up in the usual way. This time, after I caressed him for a while, when he felt that my rod in his mouth was nicely hard and erect, he came on the bed and lowered on me, self-impaling to the root. He then began to titillate my body with his gentle and yet strong hands, and started to raise and lower, at first with controlled slowness, then gradually faster, until he reached an unestrained rythm, in a wild ride. He then slowed down again and tossed on my pole, rotating his midriff as in a belly dance...
The way how my mysterious lover was conducting our sexual intercourse was very erotic indeed and incredibly pleasurable. Possibly also the mystery of his visits was increasing in some way my pleasure. But he also had to enjoy very much coming with me, considering his assiduity and his light panting, during the intercourse, prey of pleasure, until he finally reached his orgasm.
That night he rode for a long time my pole and his rod was as hard and erect as mine, and each time he came down, it hit my flat belly, until I took it on my hands and caressed it. When I discharged in him moaning, seized by an intense pleasure, he sprinkled my belly and chest with the powerful jets of his seed.
Then, seizing him tight, I pulled him to me, kissed him holding him strongly against me and whispered, "Don't go away, stay here with me. I like you, I want to know you, to see you. I want to make love in the day light."
He didn't answer but tried to wriggle away. I started to fight and during it I became aware that both of us were getting aroused again. Soon our struggle changed into a new embrace filled with ardour, and finally he was on top of me, took and rode me with as much wild energy as he impaled himself on me before.
But at the end of this second orgasm, profiting of a moment when I was relaxing, he managed to escape from me and soon I was aware I was alone again. I relaxed on the bed, feeling disappointed and sorry. When I woke up again in the morning, my chest still had clear traces of his dried seed. I cleaned myself and smelled it - it had the classic, really good, love-scent of a male, healthy and natural.
The curtain net was still perfectly in its place, without cuts or rips or unstitched parts. I was more and more puzzled. I then decided to spend the following night staying awake, on the alert, to hear from where would come the rustling that possibly, as it accompanied his disappearing, would also accompany his coming. Moreover I kept three lanterns alight, each one in a different corner of the room, and also sprinkled flour on the floor while I was backing towards the bed.
I saw the dawn coming, but the unknown lover didn't come. I had passed a sleepless night uselessly. I got off and went out of the inn, tense and nervous. On one hand I wanted him to come back to make love with me, but on the other hand I wanted to discover who he was, I wanted to see him at the daylight and also wanted to discover what he did to enter in my room...
That evening, when I retired to my room, again alone, I found a rolled paper on my bed. In an elegant calligraphy, and in Venitian, there were written these words: "If you want me with you again, do not try to discover who I am, do not try to retain me. Accept me on your bed, my handsome Lorenzo, and simply let us make love. I like you very much, you should have understood that. This has to suffice you."
I was unsure. Had I to accept this odd offer or anyway pursue my aim? I thought about that for a long time, then I decided I would rather to not lose him than to know him. Thus, already on that night, I went to bed, restless but determined to enjoy him if he came again. No light lanterns, no flour on the floor...
He came again.
I felt him waking me up with a set of passionate licks on my tool, that already had proudly raised its head, and touching him I at once recognized his head, his body, his member. He came on my bed in silence, and we embraced. That time it was even better that the previous ones. We made love for a long time, in a very sweet way, until I fell asleep.
It could also have been all the mystery that made the union with that sweet and passionate male feel more agreable, but anyway, I enjoyed him immensely. After we made love, he caressed for a long while all over my body in a very gentle way until, as I said, I slipped into sleep.
In the morning he was no longer there. But he came again, night after night, and each time it was wonderful. I noticed that he always came when I was asleep. How could he know, as the room was in the blackest dark, when I was sleeping or just pretended to sleep?
I never arrived to understand it. He always woke me up in the usual way, licking and sucking my rod. But then we made love in a different way each time, always agreeably, and he showed me that he had an endless lust and fantasy.
He made love with force, with ardour, both when he assumed the passive role or the active one, but then, always, after the orgasm, he became of an indescribable tenderness and sweetness. Then... he disappeared. At that point I was no more looking around to find a sailor or anybody else to take to my bed. My unknown and mysterious night lover was enough. Two or three times I let him a written message. They disappeared, therefore he read them, but he never answered.
When the last night came and he woke me up, I said him, "This is our last night." In fact, on the morrow I had to embark on a Pisan ship sailing for Naples and then for the Arno river mouth.
He put a finger on my lips in a silent gesture of silence, then kissed me on the mouth. That night, unlike usually, he caressed and kissed me for a long time before we united, and he brought me to the edge an explosion of the senses, almost to the no return point, then slowed down and so prolonged the pleasure.
He made me reach the point when I beseeched him to stop that sublime torture and at the same time I was hoping he wouldn't listen to my prayer. He again made the gesture to be silent.
We united in all possible ways, but between one union and the other he alighted again my desire with his skilled caresses and with his lustful kisses. All my skin was ablaze. All my body was prey of the passion and he made me vibrate like a melodious harp, like a war drum, like the sistrums of the mythical satyrs and fauns of the god Pan.
His body vibrated with mine like in a symphony, in a concert of wonderful sensations. His member was like a sword, a sceptre, the main mast of a ship, the sweet pastoral flute, the mace of the master drum, the life tree, the spear of a knight... all this and more at the same time. We rode the waves of the passion, the winds of the pleasure, we got drunk of each other drinking at the gods' cup.
When at last he left me, exhausted, fulfilled, happy, we both had had numberless, splendid orgasms.
It was nearly dawn. I waited for it, alone on my bed that still retained his male smell and the mark of his body. When the first light seeped into my room, I saw that on my trunk there was something. I got off the bed and went to see. It was an envelope like the one the sailors use to keep their documents, resting on a sheet of paper.
I opened the envelope - it contained a paper wrapping a statuete carved in onyx, portraying a winged genie represented as the naked male, with an aspect half way between that of an ephebe and of a mature man. It had also a very beautiful erect member, straight upward in a cospicuous erection and adhering to the belly. It was a really beautiful and surely precious work, of refined making, not at all indecent but rather, very sensual.
There was not still enough light to make out the writing on the paper. I then lighted a lamp and finally could read, always written in that beautiful calligraphy and in my language, "Farewell, my sweet and exciting stranger. Keep this ancient statuette as a memory of our wonderful nights of virile passion. Your Love Genie."
I still jealously keep, together with the others of my memories, his two only written messages and the statuette, so that at least, with the passing of years, I could never doubt about the reality and concreteness of this wonderful dream."
"What a fantastic story, master! Did you ever discover who he was and how he could enter and go away?"
"No, never. It remained a mistery. You see, in our life there are, at times, mysteries. We have to accept them as such, I believe. But now, Poletto, let's stop talking. I see that your nice pole has been ready for action for a while. Let me take care of it..."
"Also yours, master, is not to be trifled with. I am not your Love Genie, but would like making love with you as you did with him."
"What are you waiting for, then? Blow out the lamps - with him we always made love in the dark."
Poletto nimbly went off the wide bed to blow on all the small flames. Lorenzo laid on the bed, waiting. He heard a light rustle, then felt warm and soft lips on his member and dreamed that the unknown and mysterious lover was back.
But his hands recognized, without the shadow of a doubt, the fresh body of his passionate Poletto, his hair fine like precious sea byssus, his skin velvety like that of ripe peaches, his perfect member... and was not sorry. He really liked that boy very much and was happy having him all to himself.
He remembered how the boy, during his absence, resisted to the skilled seductions of Zane and of the other four boys and felt tenderness for his young and faitful lover.
Others could have been more skilled than Poletto, and even more beautiful, others had had at least as much dedication, others had filled him with care and affection, but he could feel that in the boy, above all that, there was something more. Something that Lorenzo was not yet able to define, but that was conquering him.
He pulled the boy to him, made him sit between his legs and offered himself to him. Poletto took him with a mixture of sweetness and force and, while he was penetrating him, went down with his head to suckle his nipples while his hands caressed him, lighting in him sparkles of pleasure. Poletto lowered his hands between their firm and warm bellies and seized the strong rod of his master, caressing and massaging it with skilled movements.
"I want your beautiful rod to be in a very good shape, my dear master, because later you have to make me feel it all inside me, strong and hard..."
"Yes, but now let me enjoy your beautiful pole. I like how you are able to move it inside me."
"It is a pity that, how it is possible to suck each other at the same moment, it is not possible also to penetrate each other simultaneously. It would be wonderful, don't you think?"
"Possibly yes. But it's wonderful anyway, my dear Poletto. Try not to come too fast, I want to enjoy your splendid jousting spear as long as possible. Tell me, Poletto, do you like my ass?"
"To be crazy for. And you, mine?"
"You know I adore it. As well as I adore everything in you. If I didn't catch you red-handed that day, while you were sucking it for signor Florindo, and if he hadn't initiated you in the love between men, I could possibly not have you here, now... Think what a pity it would have been..."
"It is destiny that united us, dear master."
"Yes. Your mother did bear and raise you expressly for me. And I waited for you for years. I feel as if I have always known you, do you know, my boy?"
"And since always I am yours... and for ever."
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 23
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