Date: Thu, 06 Jul 2006 17:23:27 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: Fabrizio's First "No!" - 4/8 (Adult Youth)

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FABRIZIO'S FIRST "NO!"
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006
Written on December 15, 1994
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by Brian Zimbabwe

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"FABRIZIO'S FIRST "NO!" " 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.

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CHAPTER FOUR

Fabrizio, on the following days, went again several times where he met
the handsome fisherman, but he didn't meet him, and neither did he see
his boat again. He knew only his name, as it was engraved in Greek
alphabet on the small plaque, "Nikos", but he had the pictures he shot
of him.

It had been like a beautiful dream, lasting only the span of a sunny
afternoon. But Fabrizio told himself that he would never forget him.

He didn't have any more adventures on the island.

They went back home. Lessons resumed. Now Fabrizio was attending the
last year. He met Bertrand again and they started to meet almost every
day and to make love. For sure Bertrand was not the beautiful Greek
fisherman, but Fabrizio felt fine with him.

Christmas was approaching. Bertrand had been invited to supper at a
friend's place, and proposed Fabrizio to go with him, "He is a
middle-aged man, but is a really interesting person. I think you will
like meeting him. I asked him if I could take a friend with me, and he
agreed. Will you come?"

"When?"

"On December twenty-third. Then I'll go to France for a week..."

"Is he also gay?"

"Yes. He lives in an interesting apartment - he traveled a lot and it is
full of things he brought back from various different countries."

"What job does he do?"

"Something like agricultural advisor for FAO. So then, will you come?

"You made me curious. But I have to first talk with mum, even though I
think she will say yes. What's his name?"

"Guglielmo. Guglielmo Bertone. Give me your answer by tomorrow, so that
I can call him in time."

"Will there just be the three of us?"

"No, also two of his friends that you already know, Piero and Enzo.
Guglielmo is very good at cooking, and is also a fascinating person -
you'll see, you'll enjoy yourself. Try to come."

His mother, as it was on the twenty-third, didn't raise any objection
when Fabrizio told her he wanted to go to supper at a friends home.

Thus, on the evening of the twenty-third, together with Bertrand, he
went for supper at Guglielmo's place.

When they rang at his door, a middle aged man went to open and welcomed
them with a broad smile, "Oh, Bertrand, is this your friend? You didn't
tell me he is so young and so... beautiful! Come in, come in. Welcome,
my name is Guglielmo." The man said offering his hand to the boy.

"How do you do. My name is Fabrizio." They shook hands and Fabrizio
noticed that the hold was firm and agreeable.

The man's eyes enchanted him - he could read warmth in them, friendship,
curiosity, and merriment. They were extremely young eyes, lively, like
his hand- shake. They entered a wide white corridor, with a wall totally
covered with white closet doors and, along the wall in front, several
doors of white opaque glass - Fabrizio counted six of them. Between one
door and the next, and at the two ends of the corridor, there were
interesting objects, clearly coming from different countries and
civilizations, lighted by small spots hanging from the walls.

The house owner took them into a large living room with a table already
set near the windowed wall and on a sofa were seated Piero and Enzo
already.

"Take your seat. Supper is almost ready. Would you like an appetizer?"

"Yes, thank you." Bertrand answered, and they sat.

While they were sipping the aperitif, Guglielmo, who was sitting in
front of Fabrizio, started to ask him questions.

"How old are you, Fabrizio?"

"Seventeen."

"A student, I guess. Of what?"

"Fine arts high school. The last year."

"Ah, how interesting. Creative. All that is creative is decidedly
interesting, isn't it? Without creativity, life would not be possible.
Not a real human life, I mean. You like your studies, don't you?"

"Yes, very much. But also your work, sir, seems to be rather
interesting, according to what Bertrand told me."

"Yes, I love it. In my work there is a lot of creativity also, in some
sense. But... let's not be so formal, call me by my name. It is true
that compared to you I am an old man, but I hope we can become friends."

"An old man you, sir... Guglielmo? You really don't look like an old
man!" Fabrizio said, with conviction.

"Thank you, you are kind, but my forty-seven years are all here, one on
the other... and I'm proud of it. In a while, it will be half a century,
just think about it. Ten times a five-years period."

"You look younger, I thought you were around forty, not more. If you
said you're thirty-seven, everybody would believe you."

"But I really don't see a reason. There is nothing wrong in being
forty-seven- years-old, is there?"

"The fact is that Guglielmo is very young in his heart and in his mind.
It's very good being with him." Piero said.

"But my age is all there. Hair starts to thin, the body is losing its
elasticity... and also the brain. Well, that's life - what I'm losing
physically, I'm acquiring in experience therefore I really have no
reason to complain."

"I would like being like you, at your age." Enzo said.

"Well... thank you. But now, if you forgive me just a moment, I must go
to fetch the hors d'oeuvre." The man said standing up.

"Do you need a hand?" Bertrand asked.

"No no, thank you, everything is already organized, ready on the serving
trolley and I can manage alone. Take your places at the table, please.
Each place is marked with your names, but of course you can swap
places..."

When the man went out of the room. While they were sitting at the table,
Fabrizio said to Bertrand in a low voice, "He really is a fascinating
man."

"Yes, as I told you. One never gets bored in his company, ever. He knows
a lot of things and is able to talk about them in a really agreeable
way."

Fabrizio nodded. But the fascination he was talking about, at least for
the moment, was a physical one. His dark brown hair just graying, smooth
and soft, framed an oval face, manly and perfect, with a straight,
strong nose, deep and incredibly lively eyes, his lips were creased in a
frank and gentle smile. His body had a normal structure, was tall,
Fabrizio guessed, about 175 centimeters. He had wide, strong hands with
tapered fingers, almost like a pianist. And his way of moving was
elegant and sensual.

The boy was totally fascinated by him. Moreover he also had the feeling
that the man was looking at him with some interest and this pleased him.
While Guglielmo was talking, even with the others, it seemed almost if
he was talking only for him.

Guglielmo came back and they started eating. The meal was very good and
the conversation agreeable. Guglielmo was seated at the other side of
the table to Fabrizio's right, so that they were side by side, but at
ninety degrees and could look at each other almost without moving their
heads. At his left, on the same side of the table, was Bertrand, then,
in front of Guglielmo there was Enzo, and in front of Bertrand, sat
Piero. The impression that Guglielmo was talking mainly for him became
stronger during supper, and even more so later when Guglielmo started to
talk about his journeys, the populations he had met and their cultures
and customs.

"... and it was right there in Peru, that I lost my lover..." Guglielmo
was saying.

"Is he dead?" Fabrizio asked, surprised.

"No, oh no, luckily! He simply fell in love with a Peruvian man so he
left me. He still lives in Peru, for five years now, and he seems
happy."

"But... didn't you say you lived together for seven years?" the boy
asked, amazed.

"Yes... That's possibly why he got tired of me. And then, a handsome
native, an illustrious scholar of pre-Columbian civilizations, is surely
more interesting than an aged agricultural expert. Surely, for me, who
was deeply in love with him, has been some trauma. But because I loved
him, because to me his happiness was the most important thing, I did
nothing to keep him tied to me... and I think I did the right thing. We
still write often to each other. We remained close friends, we confide
in each other, even if only by letter, our most intimate matters."

"But do you still love him?" Piero asked him.

"No, but I feel a strong affection for him."

"You must have suffered so much..." Fabrizio said.

"Well, you know, the one who has broad shoulders, has to carry the
heavier loads, it is said. And, be it my bad luck or luck, I cannot tell
you, it seems that I have incredibly wide shoulders." The man said with
a sweet smile.

"Afterwards, didn't you have any other lovers?" Bertrand asked him.

"No. Several escapades, I must admit, but each time, unavoidably, I did
a comparison with Dino and... And I didn't feel like bonding with
another person. It is not that I'm looking for another Dino, of course.
Well, I really simply haven't searched for anybody."

"A man like you, shouldn't have any difficulty in finding a good
partner, in my opinion." Enzo said.

"Well, you know, it seems that the youths of our times are only looking
for a youth of the same age, for a serious bond. And unhappily I feel
not at all attracted by people of my age. I don't mean physically -
there are some who are more than desirable. But all have, at least those
whose I met up to now, a mentality... sated. Tired. They know
everything, they understood everything, nothing makes them curious
anymore, nothing amazes them. No, I never could live with such a person.
I'd rather staying alone. Sure, the more the years pass, the more the
problem increases, but what can I do? I don't like the idea of tying
myself to somebody who already lives... a dull life. I could possibly be
wrong, but..."

"Who's your ideal type?" Piero asked him.

"I don't have an ideal type. Well, if he's not over fat or skinny, not
too ugly, but above all he needs to have the joy of living, of
discovering, of being amazed with me for the thousand things that life
offers to whom is able to look, to search. Also culture, seen just as a
piece of paper telling you have it, doesn't appeal to me, but I care if
he has an inner culture... I don't know if I made myself understood.
Age... well, physically I don't care, as I said, but mentally... let's
say he must be between eighteen and twenty-four, a year more or less, of
course."

Fabrizio had the feeling that these last words had been said for him -
saying eighteen, he would have been excluded and Guglielmo didn't want
to exclude him, the boy thought. But then he shook himself - don't
mistake the attraction you are feeling towards him with what he is
feeling for you, he told himself.

Fabrizio felt attracted, fascinated by the man. And now not only
physically. The evening was progressing agreeably and Fabrizio was
literally hanging on his words. They were no longer talking about
Guglielmo's sentimental life, that had been just a short digression, and
neither about his travels, but about voluntary service.

"... if one doesn't live for others, what does he live for? Also love is
nothing but the ultimate of living for another, is it not?" Guglielmo
was saying with his captivating smile.

"What do you mean?" Bertrand asked.

"Loving someone, means that he comes before yourself - your life
develops in sympathy with his life - for his joy, serenity, evolution,
his good. You live for him. And you live thanks to him, to his love."

"If two people loving each other were really so, they should never reach
the point of a separation." Enzo said.

"Exactly."

"And yet... it happens." Enzo insisted.

"Yes. Either because one of the two was not really in love, or because
he didn't protect is love. Love is exactly like a small tree: it needs
to be watered, fertilised, also pruned at times, sheltered from storms,
frost, insects. Love is not like a diamond falling that comes down from
heaven, and remains immutable. It is a seed - you must put it in good
humus and cultivate it with care. Forgetting all this, means letting it
die."

"Yours is an ideal visualization." Bertrand said.

"On the contrary, it's terribly realistic. Without toil, without
attention, without competence... love dies. Or doesn't even sprout. To
love, at times, means also to forget oneself for the other, and this is
all but easy. We all have, some more some less, a good deal of
selfishness. Overcoming it is surely not easy. But it is possible. And
it is beautiful, really beautiful."

Fabrizio never heard such oratory and was missing not even a single
word. The man was a Sage! He possibly was the first real Sage, Wise Man,
he'd ever met. And yet, he was not pontificating, not expounding
universal truths, but only his own point of view, with simplicity,
humility... and by that he was fascinating. And the light in his eyes,
the gentleness of his smile, his face so lively, expressive, just
increased this fascination.

When Enzo pointed out that it was late and that it was time to say
good-bye and leave, Fabrizio felt a deep regret. When everybody was
ready to leave, Guglielmo gave each of them a small parcel, each
different in shape, color and packaging, telling them they were his
Christmas gifts. Then they said good-bye.

On the street, Bertrand asked to Fabrizio, "So, then? Happy you came?
Having met him?"

"He is an exceptional man. Really likeable. Hours have flown too fast!"

"It's always so, with him. I like Guglielmo very much."

"You... made love with him?" Fabrizio asked in a hesitant tone, watching
his expression.

"No, we are just good friends. He's too old for me, to attract me. I
know that Enzo had a very short relationship with him."

"He has to be exceptional also as a lover." Fabrizio then said, more to
himself than to his friend.

"I don't know. Enzo says he stopped making love with him because he was
feeling too ill at ease with him, but he never explained what he meant
by these words, if it was a physical problem or what, this being ill at
ease. I had the feeling that Guglielmo was demanding too much from him,
but I may be wrong."

"Demanding? From his talk I had the impression that Guglielmo is someone
more giving than demanding."

"But at times giving too much is worse than demanding, not so? One feels
forced to reciprocate, to give him back as much as he gives, and
possibly one is not able so he lays the blame on the other. But these
are just conjectures. Possibly they just weren't compatible about what
they liked to do in bed, I don't know."

Fabrizio didn't believe him. Guglielmo seemed to him so really
exceptional that he asked himself how it was possible, after having his
love, being able to do without it. A love like the one that Guglielmo
described, was possibly something incredibly beautiful, precious.
Fabrizio never reflected, before, about love. Until then he had only
experienced sex, and with only four people in all. But love...

Back home the boy opened his parcel. It contained a small Mexican
Christmas crib, made of polychrome clay, in native style, really nice.
He put it on his desk, under the table lamp. Then he hit the bed. While
he was falling asleep, he did nothing but think to Guglielmo. And also
when he woke up, on Christmas Eve, his thoughts were crowded with
Guglielmo's presence. He asked himself if the man was at home. Looked in
his jacket breast pocket for the calling card that the man had inserted
inside the parcel with the present: he thought to call to thank him for
the previous evening and to give his Christmas greetings. It was
possibly better to wait until around ten, not to risk waking him up.

At ten o'clock, he took the phone and dialed Guglielmo's number...

"Hallo! Guglielmo Bertone speaking."

"Hello? I'm Fabrizio."

"Oh, Fabrizio! What a nice surprise."

"I hope I'm not bothering you."

"No, not at all. On the contrary..."

"I wanted to thank you for the wonderful evening and also for your
Christmas present."

"I still hadn't met you, therefore I couldn't know what you would have
appreciated."

"I found it delightful, thank you. Yesterday evening you said you hoped
we could become friends - well, I hope so too."

"Really? Good, I'm happy."

"I would like to meet you again... soon..."

"I don't remember if I told you, but on twenty-eighth I invited Enzo to
go with me to see a show of African folk dances, from Nigeria. Why don't
you come, too? I know the choreographer very well and I'm confident he
will give me another ticket for you, if you are interested."

"I would be really pleased."

"Listen, call me in about an hour... or rather, if you give me your
telephone number, I will call you to confirm."

The merry and warm tone of Guglielmo voice gave Fabrizio a feeling of
deep pleasure. He told him the number and they said good-bye. Later
Guglielmo called him back and told him that everything was settled and
gave him a time to meet before the show. Fabrizio was happy - in three
days he would meet him again, he could talk with him, listen to him.

He spent the Christmas day with his mother. Then on Saint Stephen day,
he had a date with a classmate to go to see the movie "Caravaggio", that
he heard was really beautiful. He went in front of the movie theatre, as
he was used to, ten minutes earlier. He waited for more than half an
hour but his mate didn't show. His friend was not the type to be late
and even less to leave someone in the lurch. Therefore Fabrizio went in
a bar to call him. His friend answered - he apologized, but he got fever
and couldn't go. He had tried to call him at home, but he had already
left.

Fabrizio decided to go and see the movie by himself. He paid for the
ticket and went in. The movie had already started. In the dark he tried
to single out an empty seat. He found one near the corridor. He slipped
in and sat. And immersed himself in the movie.

After a few minutes he felt a hand resting on his thigh. Surprised, he
looked his neighbour - at the light reflected by the screen he saw he
was a man about forty-years-old, a common type, and that he was
ostentatiously looking at the screen. And yet, the hand was on his
thigh, still, warm. Naively, Fabrizio thought that the man didn't
realize he put his hand on his thigh and, even though slightly
embarrassed by the situation, he started watching the movie again.

But almost at once, the hand seemed to come alive, lightly fingered his
thigh, and then started to go up, slow, determined. Now Fabrizio
understood that the man hadn't made a mistake at all. He understood that
the hand was aiming to reach his fly and to touch him there. Aroused and
excited, holding his breath, Fabrizio waited. The hand was moving up
with exasperating slowness, but was also fingering him increasingly
daringly, more explicitly. The lack of the boy's reaction was
encouraging the man, increasing his yen. Fabrizio could feel the man's
desire. Even though his neighbour didn't particularly attract him, he
was not able to escape him. He had never been able to escape the desire
of another, really. He possibly never would be.

The hand reached his fly and seemed to rejoice when it seized his
already hard member through the trouser fabric. Fabrizio, on instinct,
widened his legs a little and looked askance at the man's profile. He
continued to look at the movie but now his lips were folded in a light
smile of triumph, while his hand was determinedly fondling the boy's
genitals, underlining the fullness of its shape through the clothes.

Fabrizio was feeling at once as much embarrassed as aroused. He looked
around but had the impression that nobody was aware, nor could be aware,
of what was happening. The hand now, even more daring, was busy
unbuttoning the trousers fly. Fabrizio, blushing, put his sheepskin
jacket on is lap, to hide what was happening.

Then feeling himself tremble for the embarrassment, he turned towards
his neighbour and whispered, "No, please."

"Why?" the man asked in a low voice, without stopping what he was trying
to do.

"Not here, please."

"Well, then come, let's leave." The man determinedly said, pulling away
his hand; he stood up and made a sign to Fabrizio to stand up.

The boy thought not to follow him, but stood up - in the corridor he
would tell him that he wanted to see the movie and that he didn't want
to go with him. He went ahead of him past the curtain of the theatre.
When he was in the corridor, he turned to talk to him and found the man
in front of him, just a span away.

The man, with a satisfied smile, seized his arm and told him, with a low
voice, "You're beautiful. Come with me, we will enjoy ourselves."

"No... I... " Fabrizio protested weakly.

"Come on, don't make a fuss, now. I felt you are aroused. You'll see,
I'll make you enjoy it. I like you a lot."

"But I didn't see all the movie yet..."

"I'll give you the money for another ticket, later you can come back.
But now come with me. I really want to have a good fuck. You want it
too, don't you?"

"But where can we go?" Fabrizio uncertain asked and the man smiled with
a triumphant expression, as he interpreted these words as a real and
total surrender.

"I've a car, outside. Come." He said holding his arm and guiding him
outside.

Fabrizio meekly followed him, unable to oppose any more. When they got
into the car, the boy said, "I don't even know your name..."

The man laughed, "What doest that matter? You can call me Matteo, if you
like," he said starting the engine.

"Where are you taking me? To your home?"

"No, there are my wife and children. I'll take you to a small hotel
towards the expressway. Then I will take you back downtown, of course."

"But... in a hotel..."

"Don't worry, I'll pay for it. It's a love hotel, charged by the hour, I
already went there many times. They don't ask questions; don't care if
two men want a room. Everything is all right, safe. There we can fuck
safely and in a warm room. I'm impatient, you know. It's a couple of
weeks that I haven't fucked with a male, I really need it. But, tell me,
do you like doing blow jobs?"

Fabrizio blushed but nodded.

The man smiled, satisfied, "Good. And also you take it in your ass,
don't you?"

Fabrizio nodded again.

"Very good. Listen, while I'm driving, why don't you start fondling my
cock? Feel how hard it already is. After you sat near me... Go on, feel
it..." he said taking his wrist and guiding his hand between his legs,
"... is it to your liking?"

Fabrizio fingered it lightly - he felt the hard firmness of the man's
stake, which palpitated.

"Harder, go on, don't be afraid, you'll not hurt me." The man spurred
him pushing his hand down on his swollen basket.

Fabrizio was more and more embarrassed. The man on the contrary seemed
totally at ease or even aroused by the evident embarrassment of the boy.

"Here we are. Lets go. Don't say anything; just wait for me near the
elevator. I'll pay for the room, get the key and we can go upstairs."

They entered the room. The man closed the door with the bolt, and then
started to rapidly undress, "Go on, and undress. I paid for two hours,
don't waste our time."

Fabrizio complied. The man had a stout and somewhat hairy body and his
member wasn't big but long, jutting out perpendicular to his belly, with
the big sack of his testicles under it.

"Get on the bed, hurry up." He said while rummaging in his bag. He
pulled out a tube of lube gel and some condoms, and then he too climbed
on the bed. "We first suck each other, then you fuck my ass, and after
I'll fuck your ass. Alright?" he said moving into a sixty-nine position.

Fabrizio, notwithstanding he felt hesitant, was also aroused. The man's
determination worried him partly. Also his lack of any gentleness. It
seemed like doing a purely physical exercise, almost like a PE exercise,
more than making love. The boy didn't have much experience, but he never
thought somebody could like having sex in that way. And yet, the man's
desire was in some ways able to stir up his own desire, was infecting
him.

They sucked each other for a long time. The man was happily moaning and
got going - Fabrizio thought he almost was like a calf sucking a cow,
more than a man making love. And yet the physical sensations were
pleasurable and strong.

>From time to time the man stopped sucking to exclaim, with a hoarse
voice, "God what a beautiful cock you have! You like mine too, don't
you. Make it slip down your throat, go on, make me enjoy. Go on, pump it
into my mouth!"  When the man felt that Fabrizio was fully aroused,
stopped sucking him and made him stop. And then tore a condom envelope
and put it on the boy's member.

"Now you have to push all of it inside my ass, eh? Do you like my ass?
It's a pity that your cock isn't bigger, I'd like it more, but... You
don't even need to lube my hole: knock it inside, go on, screw me!" he
said getting on all fours and offering himself to the boy.

Fabrizio never penetrated another man. He leaned on the man's ass, aimed
his member at his anus keeping it in position with a hand and pushed -
he slipped inside smoothly, so smooth like a hand in an old glove. He
pulled away his hand and pushed more, until his groin pressed against
the man's buttocks.

The man made his hole palpitate, "Go on stallion, let me see what you're
able to do! Bang me, go on, screw me!" the man said excitedly, wiggling
his pelvis.

Fabrizio seized his hips and started - it was pleasing slipping in and
out of him - he could feel the warmth of the man's channel wrapping his
member, caressing it, and massaging it.

"Harder, go on! Thrust it all inside, push! Go on, break me! So...
good... harder..." he spurred him excitedly. Fabrizio thought that there
was little to break, but did his best to satisfy the man. The more he
gave vehement strokes, the more the man seemed to enjoy them. And soon
he couldn't hold back any more the intensity of the pleasure he was
feeling and unloaded, moaning aloud, while the man squeezed his
sphincter and pushed strongly against his groin.

"Shit, you came too soon! Just when I was starting to really enjoy it."
The man said while Fabrizio was pulling it out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't contain myself." The boy apologized, blushing.

"It doesn't matter..." the man said pulling away the condom from the
still hard member of the boy and throwing it in the waste paper basked
near the bed, "... I'll now have my return match. As you were so fast, I
will be slower. Take the position, go!" he said wearing in his turn a
condom. Fabrizio went on all fours. He felt the man lubing his anus.

"Good, boy, prepare yourself for now I'll screw you! Careful, I'll make
it come out of your mouth! Learn how to screw an ass... I like your
little ass..." the man said pushing a finger inside the hole to lube it
deeply and prepare it. Then seized the boy's sides, aimed with his
member and pushed. Fabrizio felt it enter, sink inside him, with a set
of determined strokes, centimeter after centimeter, while at each push
the man's hoarse voice was saying, "Here... you feel... it? ... you
like... it? ... Ah, what a... nice... ass... you've! Ah... yes...
tight... hot... so... aaaah!" he concluded with a last vigorous lunge.
Then he started to hammer into him with a rapid rhythm.

Fabrizio thought that in that way the man would come soon, but he was
wrong. The man continued for more than an hour, untiring. Little by
little Fabrizio became aroused again being taken in that way, rough but
decidedly pleasurable. It was just sex, just physical pleasure, but what
a pleasure! That man was nothing special and yet the boy was enjoying
that endless hump. After the man reached his orgasm in him, seeing that
Fabrizio was again aroused, without taking his hard member from him,
masturbated the boy making him come again.

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER FIVE

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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 (really appreciated, be it positive or
negative), please e-mail at

andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

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