THE ODD COUPLE by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2005 written on September 28th 1993 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Dave
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"THE ODD COUPLE" 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 2TWO - You've Got to Say 'Gay'
"Watch th' corner!" Maurizio warned.
"Shit this is heavy - like a fuckin' museum piece. What floor are we on, anyway?"
"Third. Put it down for a minute, Renato. Let's catch our breath." They rested together on the landing, sweating and panting.
His friend said, "You comin' t' th' disco tonight?"
"Sure, Renato, at 10, as usual. Will Lena and Flavia come?"
"Yes, you little stud, and afterwards we can fuck them both - like always, okay?"
Maurizio smiled and asked, "Who you like better?"
Renato said with a worldly air, "I like 'em both, man! Y'know I like all th' sixteen-year-olds, right? Their pussies 'r' still nice 'n' tight."
Maurizio chuckled and nodded. Renato was good with girls. At the snap of a finger they were his. Then he would pass them on to Maurizio. Renato had rented a garage stall that he then fitted out with stereo, mattresses, everything they would need to entertain their girls. And there they fucked them, each boy with his own girl, although often they would swap.
Renato and Maurizio had been inseparable since they met four years before. Sometimes Maurizio would pay a young whore if they had no chance with other girls. Then they would both fuck her at the same time. Once he and Renato had picked up a young bitch that looked like she was ready to do anything they wanted. But when she got her clothes off, she turned out to be a guy! Renato was so furious at the transvestite that he beat the kid up and then threw him out of the stall half-naked, and the rest of his clothes after him. They were both so worked up they had to jack off just to calm themselves down.
Renato knew how to tease girls until they would scream for release. Maurizio tried to learn from his friend and imitate him.
The two lifted the heavy wardrobe the rest of the way up the stairs and into the apartment. Renato wiped his face with his sleeve and said, "Th' fucker said he'd be here at 5:00! Now where does he want his fuckin' furniture? Shit! He'll just have t' place it himself. Let's go, buddy. Three more trips 'n' we're done."
Back on the street, the boys saw that there were just some big boxes and crates remaining for them to take upstairs.
"Christ. At least, if he comes before we leave, we could snag a good tip!" Renato said.
"Yeah, you sure know how t' ask for tips." Maurizio smiled.
"I never ask for them; I just make 'em want t' tip me. He better not stiff us after all this work!"
"You saw him? Talked to him?"
"Yeah, when he gave us th' keys - refined dude - a faggot, full of money 'n' shit."
Maurizio sneered, "Fag? Did he make a pass at you?"
"No way! If he had..." Renato cocked his arm as if to throw a punch.
"So how d' ya know he's a fag?"
"Th' way they look at ya - I can spot 'em right away."
"I never can tell," Maurizio said.
"You're so fuckin' green," Renato answered.
They had brought up the last load. Renato grinned as he unbuttoned his shirt. "There! We're done. Let's wait a half-hour or so. Maybe he'll show up."
"What th' hell are ya doin'?" asked Maurizio.
"Fags like to see muscles. He'll tip more, if th' bastard gets here. Take yer T- shirt off - go on."
Maurizio protested, "Its cold Renato, and we're all sweaty."
"Don't be a wuss, Maurizio! You know we always split the work fifty-fifty. Yer pecs will make his mouth water and he'll fork over even more. Come on! Get yer T-shirt off."
Maurizio could never say no to Renato; he always did what Renato told him. Frowning, he removed his T-shirt, used it to wipe sweat from his armpits and on his tummy, then tucked a corner of the T-shirt into his belt so that the T-shirt hung down at his side.
Just then, Stefano came into the apartment. The bare light bulb threw harsh shadows onto the white walls. He glanced at the two porters but was careful not to stare. He didn't need to. He could picture them in his mind and thought that they were handsome. The one with the bare chest - around 23, dark blond, tall, strong with well-defined muscles, and looking clean-cut and perhaps a little naive. The other, 25 or 30 - dark, just a little chest hair, also strong but shorter than his friend, and there was something arrogantly erotic in his attitude.
Stefano said, "Could we get the furniture placed properly?"
"Sorry mister, we were here at five o'clock like you said, and now it's too late. We have t' go back..."
"You're right; I didn't realize it was so late. I'm sorry. But alone, I couldn't possibly move this furniture. I'll give you a good tip..."
Renato answered, "I need t' take the truck back to th' warehouse, unfortunately. It's really been a bitch gettin' all this furniture up to th' fourth floor. We were supposed t' have another helper, but he got sick, so th' two of us got stuck with th' work of three."
Stefano got the message and took out some bills. "Here, these are to thank you. If you can help me I can give you that many more."
Renato put the money in his trousers' pocket and said, "I'm sorry, man, but it's late. I have t' return th' truck before they close; otherwise it's my ass."
"Please" begged Stefano.
"You don' get it. Th' fuckin' warehouse is gonna close..."
"Couldn't you call them?"
"Sorry, man, but a schedule is a schedule. You comin', Maurizio?"
"No, I'm gonna stay here. Go ahead and take th' truck back. An' stamp my time card for me, okay?"
Renato looked hard at Maurizio. "But we have t' go - t' change clothes 'n' have dinner - an' then there's that meetin'. We don' have that much time left, ya know..."
"I'm staying," Maurizio repeated, calm but firm.
"Shit! Do what th' fuck you want!" Renato spat, "Jus' don' be late!"
"I'll see ya at 10; there's plenty of time," Maurizio answered as he put his T- shirt back on. Renato stomped out of the apartment and down the stairs.
"Well, man, let's start," he said to Stefano, "But ya hafta gimme a hand."
"Of course, of course," Stefano answered, relieved. "Let me just hang up my jacket then we can start."
Maurizio looked at him. So this was a faggot. He would never have guessed! But Renato had said so and he trusted Renato. Still, this guy seemed like a man, not a half-woman. He was sturdy. His voice was manly and deep. And he moved like a man, too. They began to move the furniture, and he could see that this man was strong - of course, not as strong as he was, but still quite strong.
They arranged the bedroom furniture: the massive antique wardrobe with its lightly colored wood, the king-size bed with its tall curved headboard and footboard all inlaid with marquetry, a night table for the bed, a little three- legged round table with a chair, and a chest of drawers in a trunk.
"This is old furniture - family things?" observed Maurizio.
"In a sense..." Stefano answered.
"They must be worth a lotta money."
"I have no idea."
"I think so," opined Maurizio. "Let's get th' other rooms done. Which one is next?"
"The living room."
"Good."
Stefano studied the youth. He seemed simple, clean. He had such a beautiful body, but seemed so unaware of his good looks, much as you don't notice your everyday clothing. Often, boys with such beauty are proud of their bodies and they show them off, more or less consciously. But not this boy!
"You're starin' at me," said Maurizio at one point.
"Yes. You are strong and really quite well-developed."
"'S my work..." he said simply.
"You play soccer?" asked Stefano.
"No, but I go to th' gym twice a week."
"Ah, you lift weights?"
"Oh, no! I lift enough an' then some when I'm working!" Maurizio chuckled. "Nah, I study Karate."
"Do you like it?"
"It builds my agility."
They went back to rearranging the furniture. Maurizio observed, "All this really nice furniture, man, you must be rich! So why'd ya take a cheap pad like this - did your business go bust?"
"Me rich? Oh, no. A dear friend died and left these to me."
"Oh, so then they're, like, souvenirs. Beautiful! He must have been a really good friend."
Stefano looked at the boy carefully and saw that the question was sincere.
"Yes, a very dear friend. He died last summer."
"Was he old?"
"Fifty."
"That's not so old. An accident?"
"Cancer."
"That's a nasty way t' go. My father died at fifty, but with him it was his liver. He was a drunk."
Stefano inquired, "Do you live alone?"
"No, with my mother. Two brothers and a sister are married and outa th' house."
"And you are the youngest?"
"No, oldest. We're all close - one year apart. My brothers just got outa th' army. Each o' them married right away. Sis got pregnant when she was seventeen."
"And you're not married?"
"Nah, not as long as Mom's living. She's kinda sick and needs me t' help. M' sisters-in-law, they don' wanna mess with it, and that's jus' fine with Mom. She really needs me."
"And you, you don't need a girl?"
"Oh, I get plenty of 'em, but I always use a rubber so I won't get trapped," Maurizio answered quietly.
Stefano was fascinated at how simply Maurizio talked of these personal matters.
"D' ya like it, mister?" the boy asked.
"Like what?"
"This room. Wouldn't th' sideboard go better over there?"
"I think you're right, Maurizio. Let's move it. Then we can do the kitchen."
The kitchen furniture also was antique. Only the refrigerator, range, and microwave were near new.
Maurizio asked, "What's yer name?"
Stefano looked at him with slight surprise, then answered, "Genta."
"Naw, man, I mean yer first name."
"Stefano."
"C'd I call you that?"
"Well, sure - if you like."
"My name's Maurizio, after m' grandfather. My mother wanted to call me Giulio. She and Pop argued about it. I'm happy that he won - I like Maurizio better'n Giulio. Anyway, I look more like Mom. Where does this go, Stefano?" The boy pointed to a small cabinet.
"It needs to go on top of this other cabinet, but without a ladder, I'm afraid it will have to wait. Just leave it on the floor. In the next few days I'll..."
"That's okay, man. I'm tall enough..."
"But the closet is too high, Maurizio."
"Not if I hold it just right. Lemme do it alone - it's easier that way."
Maurizio balanced himself, took the small, almost square cabinet, and lifted it high above his head until it was level with the top of the taller cabinet. Then he turned to move it onto the other.
"No, no... the other way, so the door can open," Stefano said.
The boy looked up, turned ninety degrees, and said, "This way?"
"Yes, but you're having trouble. Let me help you."
"No," answered Maurizio. Then he rested a corner of his load on the top of the other cabinet. As he shifted one hand near the corner of the small, heavy cabinet, it began to slip from the edge of the taller cabinet on which it rested.
"Watch out!" Stefano shouted.
"Get outa th' way," answered Maurizio as he felt the piece slip out of his hands. He tried to block it from falling, then to slow its fall. But he had lost his balance, and as he fell backwards, the piece fell down onto him. When he landed on his back, it knocked the breath out of him and he made a loud "Huhh" sound.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Maurizio cursed when his breath returned - as much from embarrassment as from pain.
Stefano was at his side in an instant, pulling the cabinet off of him. "Oh, Maurizio! Are you hurt badly?" he asked.
Maurizio tried to get up, but fell back with a grimace of pain. "No 'ts okay tensed up m' muscles, karate trainin." The boy lay there trying to get back his breath, his face tight with pain and the shock of the blow.
"Let me call a doctor," offered Stefano.
"No, Stef, really - I'm okay. It's nothing serious. Don' worry, man."
Stefano was pleased to hear Maurizio being more familiar now. Still, he was concerned about him. "Where did it hit you? Where does it hurt?"
Maurizio pointed to the ribs on his right side and his left thigh. "Here... 'n' here."
"Let me help you up," said Stefano as he reached for the boy. "Try to move slowly. Does it hurt?"
"Yeah, b't I c'n take it." Maurizio leaned on Stefano as he stood up slowly. Stefano's gut quivered as he felt Maurizio's strong touch on his arm.
"Lie down on the mattress," said Stefano. "Let's see how badly you are hurt."
Maurizio limped slowly over towards the bed and fell on it heavily.
"Take off your shirt and trousers," said Stefano. "Do you want any help? Does it hurt if you move?"
"Yeah, a little... thanks."
The man carefully removed the youth's T-shirt. A triangular area, somewhat larger than a hand, was reddening on the boy's ribs, under his right nipple.
"It hit you here, the corner..."
"Yeah, Stef. I think you're right."
"It's making a bruise, but the skin isn't broken. Now let's see your leg."
Maurizio unbuttoned his fly, lifted his hips and slid his jeans down onto his thighs. Stefano lowered the pants to the boy's knees, noticing along the way the basket framed by the white briefs. He studied the boy's hip.
"There's a bruise here, too. But no broken skin. If only we had some ice, but unfortunately, there is none now. I could put some wet towels on it, though. That would be better than nothing.
"Stef, I'm really sorry t' make all these problems for ya."
"No, it's my fault, too, Maurizio. Just a minute, I'll look for the towels. If I'm right, they should be here in crate 7 - yes, here they are. Oh, and here is some massage cream. This will be good for you." Stefano wet the two towels in the bathroom, folded them, then returned to the bed to put them on Maurizio's bruises.
"Now we'll leave them there for a little while, then I'll give you a good massage."
"You a masseur?"
"No, my friend was. He was very good. He taught me how to do it."
"The one who died of cancer?"
"Yes."
"You two were close?"
"We lived together."
"Ya liked each other?"
Stefano hesitated, then said, "Oh yes, very much."
Stefano noticed with interest that Maurizio said these things so simply, sincerely and without sarcasm.
"That's like Renato 'n' me, my pal you saw before. We are close friends. We always share all th' girls."
"You share the girls?"
"Yeah. He's like a god to th' sixteen-year-olds. They melt in his arms just like butter. He fucks 'em, then passes 'em on to me. I could never pick one up - I'm too shy."
"Sixteen-year-old girls? Aren't they too young?" Stefano was incredulous.
"Naw, they know how t' fuck."
"But they are minors. You could have problems with their families, or the law..."
"Hey, we always use rubbers. An' we haven't found one yet who's virgin. A lotta times, they look for us, or at least they look for Renato."
"It still seems dangerous."
"Renato calls 'em fresh meat. Th' older ones might be more skilled, but they're as wide as a garage. And, they try t' trap you - they're all looking for a husband, y' know," Maurizio retorted in his matter-of-fact manner.
Stefano marveled at Maurizio's perspective on the girls - he talked of them with neither contempt nor morbidity nor modesty nor shyness. Apparently to the boy his view just seemed right, natural, logical.
The man regarded Maurizio's half-naked body lying on his mattress. It seemed chiseled, with well-shaped but not bulging muscles, a track of fine golden hair from just below his navel disappearing under the elastic waistband of the well- filled pants, legs that were gilded with the same light golden hair, fair skin that was lightly tanned. He was so beautiful he would make your eyes hurt.
"It's November and you are tanned. Do you use sun lamps?"
"No. It's fading. All this summer Renato an' me, we went t' th' river and tanned bare-ass. We tanned all over and th' girls went crazy when they didn't see any tan lines on us. Renato tells girls when he's dancing with 'em that we don't have pale butts, that we tan stark naked. Usually they say they don' believe him 'n' want t' see for themselves. An' that's it..."
Maurizio was also straightforward about how he and Renato picked up their girls. His basket, though full, had not swelled in his briefs.
Stefano announced, "And now, Maurizio, a good massage. This cream is really super. It's used in gyms to tone up the skin and boost circulation. It's also good for bruises."
"Will it burn, Stef?"
"Not at all. It will be a little painful when I have to rub on the bruises, though."
"That'll be okay."
Stefano spread some cream on his hands, rubbing them to warm it. Then he started to massage Maurizio's chest and side all around the bruise. The boy's skin was soft as silk, and his flesh firm. As the man approached the injured part, he tried to distract Maurizio. "So you do karate. Isn't that self-defense?"
"Yeah, but I don' do it for that - more for nimbleness and quick reflexes, although I wasn't so quick jus' now," Maurizio chuckled.
Stefano relished the feel of the firm, young body under his hands. "How long have you studied karate?"
"Two years, almost three."
"Does your friend do karate?"
"Renato, oh no, not him! He goes t' dance school so he c'n attract girls better. He dances like a god!"
"Girls - is that all he thinks about?"
"Well, he IS a healthy guy, like me. And besides, it feels good."
"And you never fell in love?"
"Not yet, happily."
"Happily? Why do you say that?"
Maurizio grinned. "Well, then I couldn't play around like we do. Besides, marriage would mean that I'd have t' work more. I only have my mother to support now that my brothers have left. I hardly ever work overtime now; I don' need to."
"You supported your whole family?" Stefano asked.
"After th' old man died, there was no one else."
"How old were you?"
"When he died? Fourteen. I left school and started t' work - under th' table, of course, for th' first two years. I don't regret that at all. I never did like school."
"I can understand that," smiled Stefano as he thought of his own students. "And you supported five people with your salary?"
"It was a bitch, but I did m' best. Shit! I never worked as hard as I did then. Now this work I do, now seems almost like kiddy play to me." Maurizio smiled. He spoke with the simplicity of a smaller boy, even though he had the body of a man.
Stefano now massaged all over Maurizio's chest and sides, his shoulders and well-muscled arms, returning from time to time to the bruise on the boy's ribs. Then he moved to his right thigh. The boy was completely relaxed. Stefano was slightly aroused.
"You're really good at massages. You c'd earn a lotta money..."
"Really?"
"Sure. Once in th' gym I took a bad fall and they called a masseur. He was good, but not half as good as you. An' shit! Was he ever expensive! Have you massaged a lotta people?"
"No, just Carlo."
"Yer friend?"
"Yes."
"An' I'll bet he liked it," said Maurizio sincerely. Stefano delighted in the youth's innocence.
"He was a real masseur."
"Yeah, you told me. And he massaged you."
"Of course."
"It must have been really good."
"It was, quite."
"Did you two live together a long time?"
"Twenty years..."
"Christ! You were, like... married!" exclaimed Maurizio.
"Yes, it was very like a marriage."
"Which one of you was th' girl?"
Stefano stopped and stared at the boy. Maurizio, puzzled, looked at him and asked, "Did I say somethin' wrong? Between two men, isn't one th' boy and the other th' girl?"
"That's getting kind of personal, isn't it?"
"Well, yeah... I guess yer right. I just wondered. You're th' first faggot I ever met..."
"I don't like that word!" shot Stefano.
"What? Faggot? Why? Ain't you a faggot?"
"That's a hate-word! It's better to say that I'm gay."
"Gay? Well, sure. Stef, I don't hate anybody, especially not you! It's just that I always heard people like you called that. You're th' first I ever met..."
"In your whole life?"
"At least, that I know of."
"But then, how did you know I'm gay?"
"I didn't. Renato told me. He understands these things better than me. I don' know how he does it. That's why he asked me t' wait for you without my shirt. He said you'd give us a bigger tip."
"Very smart, that one," Stefano said sarcastically.
"Yeah," the boy answered, unaware of the man's irony.
"He said that to you, gays are females?"
"Nah. He said that when you fuck, one is th' girl and the other th' boy."
"That is, one takes it up the ass and the other shoves it in, right?"
"Yeah, right. So th' one who takes it in his ass is th' girl."
"And what if somebody gets fucked in his ass then fucks his partner's ass? What does that make him?"
"I dunno. You mean it works that way?"
"Often."
"I didn' know that."
By now, Stefano had finished with Maurizio's other leg. "Done, how do you feel now?" he asked, straightening up.
Maurizio sat up and gently grasped the man's wrists.
"Please, Stef, don't stop! Rub me some more; you do it so good." He pulled Stefano's hands to his chest. "Wouldn' you like that?"
"No problem, if you really need it..." answered Stefano, feigning indifference.
Maurizio lay back down and closed his eyes. As the man started again to rub his chest, the boy lightly caressed his hand, a gesture that astounded Stefano.
His hands kneaded the firm pectorals, then found their way lower on the young man's belly and sides.
"Yeah, right!" the boy whispered, "A little lower, yeah, jus' a little more. You know where, don' you?"
Stefano could feel the blood pounding in his temples. He had not even dreamed of something like this.
"Yes, boy. I know, I know," he whispered back.
Maurizio kept his eyes shut as he lifted one then the other hip enough to slip his briefs down to his pants, then both to below his knees.
Stefano quivered in anticipation and desire as he admired the most beautiful symbol of youth and virility he had ever seen. The boy's penis was perfectly shaped, dimensioned, and colored - perfect in every aspect - in perfect proportion with the beautiful body it adorned. He caressed it and noted its answering quiver as it rose to his expert touch. Soon Maurizio's penis pointed straight up at the ceiling, as a soldier at attention, as a column of quivering flesh - Eden's tree of life.
Maurizio's testicles, so round and firm, moved slowly as if of their own will. Stefano was entranced as he lightly brushed them with his fingers - a soft caress that made them dance in little quivers that were mirrored in his own body in exquisite little shivers. He lowered his head near the shaft and inhaled deeply of its musky, manly smell. And then finally, he opened his lips just enough so that the whole member slid snugly into the warm grasp of his mouth.
Maurizio's hips lurched up, as if to further penetrate that welcoming mouth. The youth made little low moans as Stefano sucked his penis with pent-up passion, skill, and devotion, all the while caressing his nipples, armpits, and all the other erogenous parts of him. Maurizio's tension grew with every stroke of the man's head. His moans grew more insistent until, shuddering and trembling beyond control, he freed his seed, hurling it into Stefano's mouth as spasm after spasm splattered against the man's throat.
Maurizio went limp, panting, his eyes still shut, as he recovered from his release. Stefano still suckled, carefully avoiding the most sensitive parts, yet coaxing with lips and tongue the last drops of the boy's juice. Finally, all of the elixir drunk, the man withdrew his mouth from the penis, and began to massage again the boy lightly from neck to knees then back. He rubbed softly, with reverence, as he admired the virile body, perfect in every way, and quivered with ecstasy.
At last, Stefano took his hands from the nearly naked boy and asked in a low, husky voice, "It is late. Are you hungry?"
"Mmm, yeah," said Maurizio dreamily.
"I will go get some sandwiches and beer from the coffee shop on the corner. You can just take it easy."
"Good."
"I'll be quick. You'd better cover up, now. It's chilly."
"That's okay, I'm warm enough."
"Okay, I'll see you in just a minute."
"No, wait, Stef."
"Huh? What?"
"I want to say... um, thanks. It was awesome! It never felt so good. You're far better than all those girls I fucked. You really know your stuff. Where did you learn how t' do that?" Maurizio was up on one arm, gazing at Stefano with honest admiration.
Stefano smiled. "Years ago, before I met Carlo, from an American sailor..."
"You're really special, man. That was SO good!"
"Thank you." Stefano's smile broadened into a grin.
"After we eat, would ya wanna do it again - the massage and all - like a nice desert?" The boy flashed his captivating smile at the man.
"Aren't you supposed to meet your friend, and the girls?"
"It's too late for that now. B'sides, I like you better. Would you do it again later?"
"As you wish, Maurizio. Now I'll get our supper."
"Great!" The youth lay back down on the bed, smiling in a most satisfied manner, as Stefano rushed down the stairs.
The man bought eight filled roles and four beers then ran back up to his apartment, stopping to catch his breath before he entered. Maurizio lay on the bed, now completely naked, having removed his underwear, trousers, and shoes. He lay languidly on the bed, eyes closed.
Stefano asked softly, "Are you asleep?"
The youth opened his eyes and smiled up at him. "No, jus' waitin' for ya."
Stefano sat down on the bed and Maurizio sat up. The boy gobbled down five rolls; Stefano, three. Each drank a beer.
"Thank you, Stef. I'm so glad I met you. I'm even kinda glad I got hurt."
Stefano smiled and said lightly, "Even though I'm a faggot?"
"We can't say faggot, right? We gotta say gay." Maurizio looked at him with twinkling eyes, then continued, "But enough talk, now. Would you do it all again, th' massage, an'... everything?"
Stefano smiled broadly. "Sure, Maurizio. You can relax now; I'll do it all."
"Stef, we don' have t' hurry now. You c'n take your time. And don' be so sad. Think about me and you'll feel better, too. Okay?" The boy smiled sweetly.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3
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