This is a work of pure fiction, none of the characters or events written here have any basis in fact at all. If you would like to comment or criticise, I would love to read what you think; please email me at nickwyatt42@gmail.com.
Part 2 Rome and the lessons we took home
"Want to try something else?"
"Maybe."
There was a possibility.I forced my attention away and went to the bathroom to pee, wash, brush and prepare. When I came back to room 127, Alan was in my bed.
"Can't sleep" he murmured as I slipped in behind him.
Oh goodness! I can't describe the lust the disgusting sexual appetite that seized me at that moment. I wanted everything. I wanted to wank him, suck him, fuck him and have him do the same to me all in one instant. But here was beautiful, virgin boy, delivered to me for my personal pleasure by whatever gods there are that rule these things. I offered a silent prayer of gratitude to them and resolved to enjoy him. I kissed him on the shoulder.
"Back in a sec!" And I scootled back to the bathroom to do something very particular.
Back in room 127 again, I nestled against his back and pressed myself against his deliciously soft skin. Beautifully soft skin, fragrant and just perfectly wonderful. Firm, flat stomach and lovely hard back. My penis slipped easily onto the cleft of his pretty bottom and I rubbed there as I reached around towards his lovely willy. He smelled perfect; a mix of warm skin, soap, a little perspiration and overall gorgeousness and I kissed his shoulder, neck and cheek as I gently rubbed and thrust towards him.
He rotated towards me and I tried to kiss him mouth to mouth, but he sort of skidded away and instead we interlocked heads and shoulders; now body to body. And I drove my willy towards him; absolutely drove it like a nail gun. I was so turned on, I couldn't even focus on what I wanted. I wanted it all at once – every possible version of sexual possession and perversion all at once.
I looked down and lifted my body so that I could position my willy exactly on top of his and I rubbed and thrust against him. I reached down and took hold of both our cocks together and I wanked them up and down rather inexpertly. It wasn't the happy meeting of joyous penises I had hoped for as I felt him try to wrestle free. I tried to kiss him again almost forced my tongue into his mouth, but he turned away defensively. Whatever, his cock was as hard as steel as I rubbed and played, and that was the main thing. I drew my knees up and sat on the top of his thighs so that I could use two hands on this lovely rod. I clasped my hands underneath my willy and allowed his cock to slide in between my hands. I held my hands close to my groin and rocked back and forth. Alan's cock thrust in and out of my hands as I hoped it would. His hands were gripping my splayed thighs and I could feel his fingers pressing deeper into my flesh as he became more excited. I pushed his training willy back between my thighs so that his thrusts slithered up the cleft of my buttocks just for a few thrusts. Alan was extremely excited and he couldn't control his primal urge to thrust. I knew he was already quite close to cumming.
Now I sat up a little and put my hand beneath myself to aim his willy upwards as he thrust. He bumped into me two or three times and then thrust again and I took his cock and diverted the primal thrust towards me – and oh! He slipped into me! I felt the very glans of his cock ease inside my ring like a blessing. His eyes opened wide in surprise as he realised what had happened and I began to slide his gorgeous stick deeper into me. I smiled and looked down at his astonished face with love and satisfaction, I needed to make Alan understand that I was happy that he was inside me – fucking me.
I'd prepared in the bathroom of course. One of the tourist tat momenti I had bought was a small bottle of olive oil printed with a map of Italy. Well instead of taking it home, I'd opened it and lubricated myself well with the `Extra Virgin' oil. It had done its job; Alan was slipping inside me deliciously. A little discomfort, no pain, just the satisfaction of possession; I had him.
He looked down towards his groin and saw his penis disappearing into me. I had a small amount of time to convince him it was delicious and not disgusting. I rode up and down gently for a few thrusts and then I felt his hips tighten again and begin to thrust against me. I had won. Alan was going to fuck me, and away we went with some vigour. I rose and fell on his exuberant cock, just loving the feeling of fullness down there. Alan's pace hurt a little, but I was more than happy to receive him – to serve him. With each of my descents, Alan thrust his pelvis upwards with almost volcanic energy. Even though I was above him, he fucked me.
Now I wanted to enjoy his energy as a recipient and so I lifted my bottom up and off and his lovely rod thwacked flat against his hard stomach.
"Now it's your turn" I breathed as I rolled onto my back. "Go on. Love me!"
And he did. With his highly excited cock, it wasn't surprising that he would follow the source of his pleasure, but I still wasn't sure that my seduction had been successful. But as I lifted my hips, he embraced me and sent his wonderful rod into me again and I knew he was captured. I just lay back and enjoyed his extraordinarily energetic action into my bottom. I had my hands on his smooth buttocks just loosely and almost guided his raging pelvis back and forth as he fucked me. Deep into me, as deep as his willy would allow, he fucked me. Lovely.
I delighted as I watched him approach orgasm into me. His body became rigid with excitement as every muscle and sinew strained towards orgasm. Time and again he thrust into me as I observed his face flush redder and redder. Now the tendons on his neck stood out as the strings on a harp, and he began to come pressing me hard down into the bed. I knew that this would be his first orgasm with another human being, and I wanted to own it, treasure it and lock it away.
A deep gasp, followed by a higher exclamation and I could feel him drive semen into me. More thrusts and more grunting and even more semen into me as his excitement eventually subsided. He held himself rigid inside me for a few seconds and then he withdrew carefully and flung himself away onto his back beside me on the narrow bed.
I was raging with lust but he wasn't interested. Post orgasm, Alan's sexual interest had subsided to zero immediately and he simply was not aware that I needed to achieve orgasm at all. He turned away from me and lay on his side, presenting his lovely rear towards me unconsciously.
Now, should I immediately mount him and desperately penetrate these lovely buttocks, or let him rest the night and introduce him his role as a `bottom' tomorrow?
I stroked his back gently and slid my hands from his shoulders down to his bottom, but then I heard Alan's breathing relax and deepen. He's fallen sleep and so that answered my question completely. I spooned behind him and tried to sleep as well.
Something woke me with a start in the cool of the morning. I looked at my watch; it was six forty in the morning and Alan was nowhere to be seen.
Christ. Had he gone to tell on me? "St Aubyn made me fuck him and forced me to orgasm in his back passage!" No, that didn't really work did it?
"Charles seduced me and I feel dishonoured and defiled" Yes. That was far more believable. But in the moment that I formulated the dreadful thought, the bedroom door opened and Alan appeared neatly dressed in his restrictive pyjamas again.
He approached my bed and looked towards me as I sat up and he pulled the cord on his trousers and they descended to knee level by their own gravity. As they did so, he unbuttoned his pyjama jacket decisively.
Alan looked at me steadfastly as he disrobed.
"I'm ready for you now" he breathed as he slipped into the bed beside me, just as I had done the night before.
My god! I realised he had shaved himself. The neat bush of curly brown pubic hair was no more, and the naked pink of his flesh made his delicious cock stand out even more.
He slid against me and I erected immediately with this unexpected excitement.
"Are you sure?" I asked, desperately hoping for an affirmative reply.
"Mmm, but will you stop if I say so?"
"Of course. Promise." And I felt Alan breath out and relax into my embrace. I pulled his thigh up over my hips and I thrust underneath him as his willy butted into my stomach.
"No. Not yet; I want to know about things first."
"What?"
"Lay down. I want to know all about it first."
I reclined back upon one elbow, a little confused and nonplussed. Alan traced his lovely fingertips down from my shoulder to my groin. As his soft fingers trailed across my penis I tightened and made my penis jump.
"Hmm! You're ready then."
"Oh yes!" I breathed. And Alan closed his hand around my shaft quite firmly and wanked me back and forth as he adjusted his position; I grunted and twitched a bit.
"Is that too tight"? He asked.
"Just a bit." He relaxed his hold just slightly.
"Better? Never done this before."
I grunted in approval this time and concentrated on the delicious feeling.
"That better. Is this your first time?"
"Mmm" and he continued to stretch me back and forth a little hesitantly perhaps, but he was learning and I loved the prospect of educating him.
"Need to try this too . . ."
And he slid down the bed. There was a deliciously delicate tingling on my penis; Alan was kissing my glans. I groaned and twitched involuntarily and he wrapped his mouth around the entire head of my willy, licking and sucking. He laughed as he did so and I wriggled as the vibrations resounded through my most sensitive organ. I roared, and he did it again. I held his shoulder and head tightly as I twitched up and shoved my penis as deep as I could into his mouth. He tried to speak again and the vibrations around my cock were delicious.
"Didn't you mother ever tell you off for speaking with your mouth full?" I asked. Alan chuckled and carried on sucking.
Rising from my groin, he knelt beside me.
"I want to try it all, Charlie. So go on, you can."
And he looked into my eyes deeply and directly for a few moments before turning away and sticking out his pretty bottom towards me.
In a bit of a daze, I turned towards him and slid my penis along the cleft between his firmly muscled buttocks. From resting on his hip, my hand slid around his front and down to fondle his winkle. He was deliciously stiff; erect and enthusiastic, and I pulled him back and forth a little as I prepared to claim his virginity as my prize.
"I found your little bottle, so I'm all ready" he breathed. I slipped an exploratory finger into his hole as a test, and indeed, he was.
"Wait a second" He counselled.
"What?"
"Hang on, I need to be comfortable." He spread his legs and bent low before me.
"Okay" and I looked at his pretty bottom and slightly opened anus, and began to slide it right in.
Oh that wonderful feeling as I slid my glans beyond his constricting sphincter. I thrust further in.
"Charlie! Be gentle; hurts a bit." I withdrew slightly and slowed my thrusts to mere walking pace.
"Better?"
"Ow. No."
I stopped all movement and waited a second or two. It seemed like ages with my desperate willy part way up his delicious bottom. I counted to something like ten or twenty and began a gentle thrust again.
"Aah! No, stop please!"
"Where's the bottle?" I whispered.
"The what?"
"My bottle of oil!"
"Oh, it's in my wash bag over there" and he nodded towards his bed. I sprang away and rummaged through the bag, finding the small, fist sized bottle of olive oil. In my lust-laden haste, I pulled of the top and sent it spinning away onto the floor somewhere, and I poured a generous amount of olive oil onto my cock and fingers. I wanked myself back and forth making my willy slippery wet and clicking nicely as I tugged at my skin. With my oily hand, I fondled his lovely bottom, inside and outside his virgin hole.
Now I tried again. As Alan braced himself against the expected onslaught, I guided my willy into his sphincter, but again I felt him flinch. With just my mushroom head inside him, I paused and waited for him to gather himself and be ready for me.
I pressed further in to him – no more than an inch, in all honesty – and Alan squealed. He pulled forwards and turned away hurt and defensive. I withdrew and sank back on my haunches, frustrated and nonplussed.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Just hurts." He answered rather sulkily and slid forward onto his stomach. He went face down into the pillow and put his hand on his bottom protecively. I leant further back and pointed my cock at the ceiling.
Abruptly, there was a sharp bang on the door. "Seven thirty! Time to get up!"
"Gosh, I thought I already was!"
Despite himself, Alan sniggered and turned around to face me.
"I'm sorry Charlie. But it just hurts." He reached out and placed his hand on my thigh.
"You've been lovely to me, and I want to pay you back."
He looked up at me and I raised an eyebrow.
"Not like that! I just want to let you love me, but in my backside it's ever so painful" He looked up at plaintively.
"It's okay, Al. Really." My raging heart and impossibly stiff cock didn't agree, but I needed to be civilised in this awfully delicate situation, whereas my lustful spirit would have preferred to rape him first and answer questions later.
"I'm going for a shower" I announced and wrapping my towel around my middle I yanked open the bedroom door and strode out without closing it behind me.
Advice to everyone everywhere: never slam doors behind you as you storm out. It makes the person (or persons!) absolutely certain that they have something to moan about you. Whereas if you don't slam the door, they have got to do something like get up and close the door after you, and that's far more satisfying!
So I didn't slam the door closed, I just left it open and went for my shower. When I returned the door was closed, and upon opening it I realised that Alan had gone.
Damn. Damn, that hadn't gone to plan. He'd gone down to breakfast and we'd all be out for the day. The next chance for private talk would be about five o'clock this evening – and we'd be packing to go home the next day!
I hadn't wanked off in the shower, but as the day progressed I wished I had.
Fucking ridiculous day, actually. We were supposed to go on a coach trip to Castel Gondolfo for a visit to the Pope's country retreat (while he wasn't there, of course). But soon after we boarded the bus with twenty or so French students it bloody well broke down! Right in the most awful Roman suburb imaginable. As the morning wore on and the temperature inside the bus climbed, our ability to stay calm and patient decreased.
Some of our number ducked their heads down out of sight and began to sing "Why are we waiting?" to the tune of "Oh Come All Ye Faithful".
Apparently, the driver kept reassuring Dr Jeffries that a replacement bus was on its way and would be here in fifteen minutes - for more than two hours! We'd boarded the bus at about nine thirty and now it was getting on for noon. Dr Jeffries made a gallant decision after shouting at the driver and translating for the French teachers. It was entirely evident that he was furiously annoyed and absolutely at an end to his patience. There were dark sweat patches under the arms of his oatmeal coloured jacket and his panama hat was more than slightly awry.
"Please listen everyone! As we do not seem to be getting anywhere particularly quickly, and as Signor Petroni here is unable to fix the blasted engine or summon a replacement coach," he paused and turned his gaze on the hapless driver before continuing "we will have to abandon our intended lunch stop at Ciampino and the visit to Castello Gondolfo." There were some groans and some muffled cheers, which he chose to ignore.
"So by way of recompense, I've been to a small pizzeria just round the corner and arranged for them to cook unfeasibly large amounts of pizza ready for our arrival in just a few moments!"
And this wonderful announcement brought us out in cheers. Dr Jeffries grinned like a deceptive magician as we applauded. That made him happy again; he had saved the day.
"Let's go and have some lunch – and please remove all your belongings with you, we will definitely not be coming back!"
We roared our approval and decamped from the roasting hot interior of the coach as the French teachers shouted the same message to their pupils. Two pretty girls rose from the seats before me as I queued to get off and I held out my hand in support. Misunderstanding perfectly, they continued holding my hands as we dismounted and strode toward the pizzeria.
"This way everyone, round the corner and just twenty yards." Father Brian was directing traffic at the junction behind the bus. "Hello Charlie, got some friends then, I see!"
I'm not sure they understood, but the girls giggled like mad and one linked arms with me while the other pulled me ahead with her hand in mine.
Glorious, simply glorious! The pizzeria that Dr Jeffries had found was set back a little from the street with a sort of terrace before it. It certainly wasn't intended for fifty customers at once, but the two waiters and la nonna della cassa were busy setting up benches, chairs and tables as we arrived.
"Boys! Over here. Lend a hand! Let's get this organised." And we did. Moving tables, benches chairs and even balancing shelves between tables to make more tables! We got it organised as the waiting staff dressed the tables and delivered pizza.
Everything and everyone was confused. I sat down between one of the girls I'd held hands with and another French boy; opposite was Gerald, Paul Coleman and the other French girl. A waiter arrived with a vast pizza – at least fifteen inches across- and plonked it down between us. It was ready cut, and so we tucked in. El Nona arrived too with bottles of Fanta and mineral water "Per voi, per voi, y per voi!"
We ate and drank and laughed. These charming girls were being beautifully female and Gerald was playing up to his camp best – or worst! Then there was a touch, just a touch against my thigh. I ignored the signal for a second or two and then nonchalantly glanced around to the person on my right. And oh god, was he ever pretty! Golden, flawless skin and long, dark brown hair with the vaguest hint of sun bleached highlights, perfect cheekbones, a long and finely shaped nose. Plus large, beautiful and positively dangerous eyes.
There's a technique I've learned; to look once and then gaze long. Look once at the pretty boy, take it all in and then look away, straight passed him just in case someone is watching me. Maybe all gay men do it, maybe it's just me.
After a minute or two, I stood and announced that I needed the toilet – in English and in French. In the semi-basement pissoir, I joined Allard, and pee'd while he finished and left. But then I was joined by Father Brian, and then Mr Syles. There is only so much hand washing one can get away with. As I left, the gorgeous boy who had sat next to me was just coming in. He raised an eyebrow and cocked one shoulder up at me as if to say "Oh well, there will be others."
Ray was going in as I was coming out and raised an eyebrow. He knew what I was after and silently, I wished him luck.
Retaking my seat, we chatted and laughed. We swapped English for French and French for English as we chewed our way through all the pizza offered, laughing and chatting with blithe equanimity on that sunny afternoon. Despite our disappointment because of the dead coach, it was a wonderful experience.
We were of course, then dismissed and allowed to roam free after lunch, being less than two kilometres from our hotel. We bade farewell to our new French friends and I kissed the two girls – Marie and Sandrine – on both cheeks, and shook the hand of Laurent, while looking deep into his beautiful eyes.
Some of us went off shopping, and some did some sightseeing. Me, I was eternally on the lookout for sex in the Eternal City. But although trawling desperately and unsuccessfully, I returned to the hotel and greeted Signor Bonnaldi at the desk.
"A good day Mister Charles?"
"Not exactly, Signor Bonnaldi. Despite the beauty of the city and the charms of its inhabitants, I will admit to being disappointed."
"Our fucking awful bus companies, perhaps? "
I laughed out loud. He already knew, he had it perfectly.
And so all we arrived back at our hotel in dribs and drabs over several hours. I went to our room and collapsed on my bed in the late afternoon heat. I think I slept a little because when I was ready to move again, the sun had shifted further west.
Alan hadn't returned yet and so I went up three floors to room 411 where Gerald and Ray were staying. I thumped on the door. There was a sort of scuffling noise inside and Gerald inquired in a clandestine manner "Who's there?"
"It's me, Charles! Open the door you silly queen."
The door opened not much more than a foot, just enough for me to squeeze in sideways. Gerald, grinning like an idiot poked his head round the door and ushered me in with a flourish. Ray York was sitting in a cane armchair over by the window, grinning too and nursing a glass of something. On the bed in the alcove behind Ray, young Paul Coleman was sort of coiled up and watching with a funny smile on his face. Whatever was going on, it was his reaction that concerned me most. He looked disconcerted, almost frightened and yet fascinated at the same time. What had they been doing here?
"Who was that coming in?" Called a voice from behind another door.
"It's only Charles! You can come out now."
"Is he alone?"
"Yes!" I called out to the distant voice. It sounded like Wellington, but I didn't understand why he seemed to be in a wardrobe.
A light clicked on where Wellington had hidden himself and light reflected from the tiled walls. Goodness, they had an ensuite bathroom.
"Coming out" he called and stepped into the bedroom. He held a bath towel tightly around him and looked about as guilty as anyone could possibly look. He shot a glance at me, dropped his gaze and then looked towards the door to ensure it was closed.
"Well get on with it, dear! Haven't got all night, y'know." Ray protested, rather testily. He shifted in his seat and crossed his legs the other way. He looked vaguely irritated about something.
"Okay. I jolly well will!"
Wellington stepped up onto the bed, still clutching his towel about himself. Turning away from me he began to wiggle. Just wiggle and shift his hips in the most suggestive way. Humming quietly to himself, he dropped the towel and despite myself, I gasped. Wellington was wearing nothing but a pair of tiny `Hom' pants! This slim lad was in the year above us, and here he was wiggling his pretty bottom in front of us all. Now he danced around towards me and I think my mouth must have dropped open in surprise because Gerald laughed filthily at my reaction.
Standing there, gyrating on the bed, Roger Wellington displayed the largest erection I had ever seen. Through his tight Hom pants I could easily locate his scrotum and the root of his cock, but rising above the brim of the pants was a wide shaft of solid, pink willy. I don't know how long it actually was – nine, ten inches or even more – but my goodness, it shocked me.
"Can you imagine that? Oooh!" And here, Gerald clapped a protective hand to his bottom "there's big enough, and just too big!"
I laughed nervously as Gerald guffawed. I wasn't comfortable with this, somehow. I mean, okay, all of them – probably apart from young Coleman – were queers, or gays as we now have to call ourselves. But really, there was a time and place for everything, even sexual perversion.
Roger began to slip his pants down and grasped his enormous missile with both hands; he began to masturbate. Crossing his forearms in front to him, he thrust against the fulcrum and his livid pink cock was launched between his forearms. He was circumcised of course and the cut line almost seemed like a high water mark between warm brown skin below and livid pink above; it was not attractive. His glans was most odd too, it seemed exaggeratedly pointed. Over the years, I have enjoyed many delicious circumcised willies that have varied from the 'bull-nosed' to the 'serpentine'. Roger was definitely far towards the 'sharp' end of things, and when married with his prodigious length, I could characterise him as an intercontinental ballistic missile. Vast, dangerous and capable of inflicting significant damage.
No, this was not for me. I looked beyond this disgusting travesty of sex towards Coleman, he'd turned away from the spectacle and faced the wall away from the sight. I crossed quickly past Roger and the other beds and touched Paul lightly on the shoulder. He jumped, the poor thing.
"There's a spare bed in our room if you want. Promise it's nothing like this."
"It's okay. But thanks."
I really wasn't that much of a perv, and so I made Gerald open the door and let me out into the corridor. I left Roger wanking furiously while they laughed and applauded. Back I went to meet the serenity of Alan in room 127.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing!"
"You look rather out of sorts. What's happened upstairs?" He knew where I'd been.
"Nothing at all. Let it go." And I threw myself down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. The windows were wide open in the heat and the sounds of glorious Italy drifted in; two women talking, a Vespa rasping across the cobbles and a bell somewhere far away. I was happy with the luscious sensuality of life here. But not at all happy with the obtrusive display of sexuality I had just witnessed.
"What were they doing?"
"Alan, leave it! Bloody nothing."
But I knew he didn't believe me and would not leave it alone either.
Our hotel bell tinkled away a little closer than the chapel bell I'd heard. It was time for dinner. Our final dinner, or the Last Supper?
Minestrone soup followed by a sort of baked chicken with crispy spuds and pea/bean things that were green – someone said they were `flagolets' or something. Very nice, anyway. And then poached peaches with ice cream and they were fantastic.
As it was our last night, and with the permission of Dr Jeffries, Signor Bonnaldi served us with tiny, frozen, thimble glasses of a yellow cloudy liquid. At first, some thought it was egg nog or Advocaat, but on first taste it was delightfully and refreshingly different; I knew that taste from home, it was frozen Limoncella!
Wonderful, wonderful intoxicating lemon ice lollies! I was amazed and utterly enchanted by the taste.
Here came Signor Bonnaldi again with a second bottle of the yellow Limoncella in one hand and a jug of what looked like water in the other hand. He passed along our table dispensing the yellow heaven to all. But next to me, he filled Gerald's glass, and mine and Ray's with the clear liquid.
I sat, slightly surprised and disconcerted as Gerald took an exploratory sip of the deceptively watery looking stuff.
"Bugger me! Bugger me backwards, Bertie! That's sodding strong!"
I lifted my glass and smelled it.
"It's grappa. About the same strength as vodka. Here's to us and all who sail in her!"
And I shot the glass down, feeling proud, lustful and ashamed all at the same time.
"Young Coleman" I ventured.
"Mmm? What about the dear boy?" Ray enquired.
"He looked positively terrified upstairs earlier. And, for goodness' sake don't all look at him now!"
"I meant to take up that petit moment up with you, Charles. Not like you to duck out of a display like that from Roger. Was it envy, I wonder?" Asked Ray, feigning innocence.
"Certainly not. As you know, I am a reluctant carnivore and the sight of all that pork at once made me slightly nauseous."
"Anyway, you asked about Paul Coleman. What about him?" Asked Gerald to my left.
"He's still `intact', I take it."
"As far as I'm concerned, yes." Ray nodded too "And I think we would have heard the screams if Roger Wellington had got there. Why?"
"Not sure. I have a feeling that he may report on his visit to Rome in copious and embarrassing detail." And I looked across at poor Paul, while the other two deliberately looked away. He seemed fretfully distant and preoccupied; his glass of Limoncella untouched before him. I hadn't seen him speak to anyone during the meal, and I was worried for him.
I felt suddenly depressed and frankly, fed up. Something was making me feel that this time away in glorious Italy had been a failure, but I wasn't sure why. I'd seen the best of the best in art and architecture, trodden in the very footsteps of Emperors, Saint, Martyrs and Popes, I'd even eaten and drunk effusively well. And yet, there was something missing. Something yet I hadn't found it Italy. Despite my intimacy with Alan and my filial familiarity with Ray and Gerald I had spent much of the five days alone and thereby uncomfortable. Whereas I had believed that I could function perfectly well in my own company, I realised that this was not the case; I needed someone else to enjoy everything with me. Someone to be able to nudge and say 'look at that', or 'isn't doesn't the orange blossom smell beautiful?' Alone, it was still beautiful and noteworhy, but also transient, unimportant and forgettable.
I went up to our room early. Reluctant to partake in the `last night' frolics that some of the others seemed intent on. Alan was still in the lounge with Robinson et al, but young Paul Coleman had already departed as I made my way up to room 127.
I was stripping off my clothes, prior to visiting the bathroom when the door opened and Alan came in.
"You beat me to it. I wanted to get here before you."
"Is it important?"
"Is for me, Charles."
I went to the bathroom, showered, peed and brushed.
Alan was folding his clothes away carefully in his case as I returned, before wordlessly collecting his pyjamas and departing to the bathroom after me.
I lay on top of the quilt-thing on my bed in the enveloping warmth. I stripped off and stared at the ceiling. I hadn't bothered to close the shutters or windows this evening and so the warm Roman street sounds seeped into the room beneath the lightweight curtains. A transistor radio from fifty metres away, and another Vespa further off. Now a muttered male conversation right below the widow.
"Charles, look at me. This is for you."
Slightly startled, I rolled over towards Alan's voice. And there he stood, fully erect but wearing only a tiny pair of transparent briefs. I wasn't just surprised, I was completely shocked. Even more so when Alan slid forward onto my bed on top of me and kissed me long and strong with his tongue in my mouth.
"God." I breathed into his hair.
"God has got nothing to do with this."
I slid my hand down onto the panties; across the front and his captured cock and around his hip onto his bottom.
"Where did you get these?"
"Bought them. You like?"
"Love it."
I ran my hands over his lovely bottom inside the positively wonderful panties and just for a second, I wondered if it was the panties or the bottom I wanted most.
"I know it's a sin. I really do know. But I want to try it – just to see what it's like – you know, don't you?" He sounded so defensive and so vulnerable that I just had to hug him and make it all better.
"Understand. It's just finding out, isn't it? Let's just see how it goes." I soothed.
He lay upon me, with the full weight of his delicious torso pressing down onto me. Still surprised by his actions, I could do little apart from lay there while his hands roamed over my chest and shoulders delightfully. Soft fingertips trailed across my nipples and down my ribs as he ground his silky clad willy against mine. There was the most delicious rasp of the lacy waistband against me and I pressed my cock between his thighs and against the panties.
Another kiss and another, and now he stood up on the bed and pulled the tiny panties down with one hand, dropped them onto my face while giggling naughtily. I laughed and pulled the underwear off my face. I wanted to look at him.
I looked up at his scrotum hanging tight and ridged above me, and his wonderful cock stuck out straight in front him absolutely dominating my view from below. Alan sank and lay upon me again, I placed both hands on his tight and firm buttocks. He wriggled and thrust exquisitely and I began to lift my hips to allow him under. "No, this is for you." He breathed. And just as I had done to him, he sat astride me and allowed his sweet thighs to slide about my hips. I looked down my body; his cock stuck up towards me like a lance as he gently wriggled back and forth on me.
He placed his hands flat on my chest and slid back and forth cautiously. Remembering what had happened last time he'd tried, I held back; not thrusting, and fearing rejection. Alan sensed my reluctance of course, and whispered "I want this to happen" as he looked down at me. "I want to try it."
Now, one hand on my chest and one hand beneath himself, he lifted my straining cock and poked it upwards towards his boy pussy. Cautiously, I stiffened my hips and thrust upwards gently. And butted against him. I felt his fingers fumble me about as he located missile with target. He sank very slightly towards me and oh god, there it was. I felt my glans slip into his bottom just a little.
"Okay?"
"Mmm."
I waited, and then pressed upwards just a little. Alan sat astride me and I could see him trying to relax his sphincter and let me in. A bit more, and a bit more with each rise and fall. That was it, I was all inside him now. I reached forward and gently tugged his lovely cock in rhythm as he pleasured me, mouth open and eyes closed. He was making love to me; giving himself up for my pleasure. I held his smooth torso and guided him up and down in our delicious duet. I exhaled and groaned and thrust up into him with desperate lust. He opened his eyes slightly and looked down at me.
"Let's change" and he lifted up, releasing my penis, dangling in mid air. I sat up and grabbed his face in my two hands before he could move too far away and kissed him with urgent excitement; he kissed back. We stayed kissing as my hand sought out his willy again and I toyed him gently, pulling the flexible skin back and forth just gently.
Eventually, he slid passed me and made to lie on the bed, I dived onto his cock and started sucking; I wanted him to be close to orgasm when we continued. I sucked and wanked for several minutes before pulling back and taking him by the hands I made him get up from the bed.
"Over here."
I led him to the small table beneath the window. Alan placed his foot on the raffia seating of one of the chairs and as he hung on to the table top and the widow wall, I slid my willy into him while reaching round to wank him as perfectly as I could. Gently and with my sexual violence constrained as best I could, I fucked him. Slowly thrusting up into his beautiful botty while caressing his lovely cock sticking straight out in front. We both went on and on.
"Go on, don't stop!" Alan gasped out as I continued to thrust. But suddenly I realised it wasn't my thrusting that he was talking about; it was the hand job.
"Go on!" He exclaimed and I went on pulling the outer skin of his powerful cock up and back with my lubricated left hand. I stopped thrusting into him completely and even began to withdraw as Alan stretched backwards in his ecstasy.
He reached around behind and held me tight to him as he gasped and trembled. Feeling his knees weaken and twitch, I knew he was very close. A few more strokes and he began to wriggle and spasm in my grasp, grunting and gasping as he had done before. But now we were alone and we could enjoy the event in its full majesty. This would be worth a painting on its own.
A loud, tearing grunt and my hand was wet, another tug and I felt him spray a line of semen forward and there was a soft `throp' noise as it landed on the table. Another gasp, another tug and he erupted again over my hand and onto the table and the floor. And again, and again "Oh! Yes!"
I held tight to his back as he twitched and thrust into my hand, completing his orgasm. Still thrusting and twitching almost uncontrollably, he sagged backwards against me. I leaned sideways and grabbed a t-shirt from the bed and wiped my hand as best I could while supporting the sagging satyr in my arms.
I kissed his shoulder and angled him forwards as an aftershock rippled through him. I leaned forward with him, still holding his torso and gently thrust towards him again. I was almost certain that he would reject me again, now that he had achieved his orgasm. But no, this time he bent and presented again to me; I slipped my cock into his botty once more.
Gently, progressively I fucked him. Holding him as carefully as I could about his hips I fucked him. Now he was almost horizontal with his head underneath the curtains. He was looking out into the Roman night while being seriously buggered from behind. I looked down at his gorgeous cheeks, glistening slightly with olive oil and flexing prettily as I thrust and withdrew.
And this image took me over the edge and I steamed up to my orgasm with all the self-control I could muster. Long and slow, instead of racing away with my urges. Holding back as long as I could, and then the glorious release with an extended bull-like exhalation. Burying my cock deep into him, I squirted semen as far into him as I could. This was sexual ownership; marking my conquest. I sagged towards him and held him tight around the torso as my orgasm declined and that wonderful feeling of calm took over. Gently, I allowed my cock to slide out of his anus as I held him.
"Wow. Didn't think it would be like that. You okay?"
I grunted in confirmation, released him and sat down on my bed without speaking. With Alan and in our post sex idyll, I could have died quite happily. With my t-shirt again, I wiped my hand and willy. Alan took it from me and wiped some of the oil and semen from his bottom.
"Did I hurt you?" I asked.
"No. You were very gentle, thank you. Was it good?"
"Delicious" and I grinned up at him "Just lovely!"
I pulled him around towards me and hugged him strong and tight. My right hand ranged down his back and onto the top of his buttocks as I kissed his neck.
"You are absolutely gorgeous!" I whispered in his ear as we disengaged and I sat on my bed.
Alan remained standing, his cock was still erect and pointing straight at me. I fancied giving it a good suck if the owner would allow me.
"Come down here" I coaxed. But as Alan took a step towards me, there was a sharp rap at the door. In perfect, fluid motion Alan span himself into bed and I hopped into my pyjama trousers and danced across the room to the door. I glanced back towards Alan, he was decently covered up in his bed, and I opened the door. It was Paul Coleman, clutching a bundle of clothes and bedding.
"Sorry, Charles. But they're at it upstairs. Can I share with you two?"
"Course. Come in."
"That one's free." I said, indicating what had been Malcolm's bed behind the door.
Alan rolled over to scrutinise the interloper. "What's going on upstairs?"
"They're all, y'know, having it off!"
"Who, Gerald and Ray?" I asked.
"And the other two as well. They're all at it with each other. Awful."
Just for a moment I thought about inventing an excuse to go upstairs to see what was going on in Paul's room; who were 'the other two'? But I simply could not think of a plausible reason, and as my libido had been very recently satisfied by coming in Alan's bottom, I decided to stay put.
Paul dumped his stuff down and while he turned his back, sorting out clothing and bedding, I wiped the semen off the table and floor with my t-shirt and slipped innocently into my bed.
"Going for a pee" Paul announced and left the bedroom to Alan and myself again. Alan leapt naked from his bed and pulled his pyjamas from beneath his pillow. I sprang out as well and wiped the floor and table once again before diving back to bed.
"Wasn't expecting him to turn up! Crikey!"
I looked up at Charles as he turned his pyjama trousers the right way out. His penis was still erect, and he noticed me looking at him.
"No more Charles."
"No more tonight, or no more forever?"
"No. Not when we get home, either. Well, maybe." He paused and busied himself.
"Well maybe. You were lovely to me. Thank you." And he stooped and kissed me gently on the lips.
"We could keep it a secret, sort of David and Jonathan" I encouraged.
"Maybe. Let's think about it when we get home."
Alan got back into his bed just before Paul returned from the bathroom, but things had not been resolved at all.
"Light's out, okay?" Called Paul from the doorway. We grunted in approval and the lights went out on my sexual sojourn with Alan.
I really do dislike the necessity of clearing up after a holiday. It is the absolute antithesis to the excitement of packing to go away, and is therefore totally depressing. And as for airports, I positively loath them! In all my years of travelling I have never learned to love or even tolerate airports. Dr Jeffries evidently felt the same as he bustled us all from one holding point to another.
"Wait here, boys! I'll go on ahead and find out."
"Sir, it said `Gate four' and that's the next but one on the right hand side."
"I'll decide, Robinson!" And off he rushed.
Robinson turned to Father Brian
"It is that one over there, isn't sir?"
"Aye and well it might be. But did you check yer case in then, Robbo?"
"Yes sir"
"Then they won't be going without us will they?"
"Well, no sir-"
"Then let Doctor Jeffries check that we're headed the right way."
"Sir."
Dr Jeffries came bustling back.
"It's that gate over there next but one on the right. Now My party; all you boys, put your hands up and let me count you. Should be thirty two. One, two, three . . ."
He progressed down the higgledy lines of us "Twenty nine, thirty, thirty one, thirty two, thirty . . . No damn, must have miscounted." And he rushed back to the head of the party.
"Right. Let's try again. I'm going to give you each a number and when I do and call your name, put your hand down and remember your number. Got it? Good. Robinson one, Arkley two, Watson three, Montfort four" And so he progressed down the lines of us.
"Newman twenty eight, Taylor twenty nine, De Wyeth thirty and St Aubyn thirty one. Damn and blast it! Have I miscounted or is somebody missing?"
We took our seats on the aircraft as directed by our boarding cards, but with a dexterous swop with a lad called Leonard, I sat in an aisle seat next to Gerald some way towards the back of the plane. Once the engines had started we could chat more freely, confident that the din would drown out our words from being overheard.
"Well, how was it for you, dear? The visit as a whole, I mean. Not just the lovely Alan."
"Okay. Only okay, though. Lots of things seemed to be missing."
"Are you getting all 'artistic' on me? Never been able to figure any of that out!"
"Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, what on earth were you getting up to last night then?"
"Merely a little bedroom gymnastics with a friend. "
"All four of you?"
He looked at me more closely, wondering how I knew and his face betrayed a fear that I was not expecting.
"Who was it then – the other two with you and Ray?"
"Don't remember really, and anyway how did you know?" But before I could answer, he responded himself.
"Oh, of course! Coleman jumped ship, didn't he? So he wound up with you two and that's how you knew. Hope he didn't interrupt anything." And he leered at me suggestively.
"I told you before, Gerald. Alan is not remotely interested. And anyway, who were the other two?"
"Nothing to do with you, dear! Let's keep it all nice and quiet shall we? But have you been solo and without a partner?" I grunted in agreement, protecting my secret liaison with Alan. But I recognised that Gerald had avoided the question of the other two participants.
"Oh you poor thing! You've been celibate and repressed all week?"
He turned to me with mock compassion. "Shall we sneak into the loos and I'll give you a quick wank; sort of join the Mile High Club?"
I shifted uneasily. "No, Gerald. No."
From Luton, the coach returned us to School in the late Friday afternoon and we were permitted to disperse to home or dormitory and we did not recommence lessons until the following Wednesday. Once home, and having greeted Ma with all the relevant news, I went upstairs and had a long, very hot soak in the bath. Little brother was staying with a friend for the weekend, Mum was meeting Dad in town after work – going to the theatre, I think, so I would be alone. And I planned to enjoy it.
Well, there it is; that's the end of Part Two. If you would like to comment or criticise, I would love to read what you think; please email me at nickwyatt42@gmail.com,
I've tried hard to reply to everyone who has emailed me so far. If I've missed anyone out, I'm sorry and it's nothing personal! Please try again and I promise to reply to you.