Date: Fri, 9 Mar 2018 00:20:32 +0100 (CET)
From: john.matthews@tutanota.com
Subject: The Apennine Boys' School

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The Apennine Boys School

Part 1

I received the letter on the 3rd day of what was to be the rest of my
life. The rest of my life was to be relaxing, travelling, researching if I
felt like it and generally taking it easy... but certainly taking it.

I had quit my job at the university in the UK, and, as I had what was
called an "independent income" I was set to retire at the ripe old age of
27. My parents had been killed in a small plane (a Cessna, I think) crash
in the Scottish highlands. Their insurance policies and business
investments had come up trumps, and I could live quite comfortably, indeed
very comfortably, off the interest from the policies, not to mention my
father's investment portfolio. However, I did miss them very much.

I had completed my PhD in Education when I was 24, and landed a plum job at
a reasonably prestigious English university. I loved teaching, but I
preferred youngsters rather than varsity students. So I quit so that I
could enjoy the rest of my life.

My mentor, Professor Clement, wrung his hands and lamented the waste of
talent. It was he who had given me the idea for my thesis, namely
Educational Mentoring. My views were radical in the current educational
climate. I argued for single sex schools. I argued that a teacher was more
than a teacher but an anchor on which students could depend and from whom
they could get advice on both academic and personal matters. I argued that
a teacher/mentor should stay with children from the ages of seven to the
age of at least fourteen and preferably to the end of their school days, In
other words, each teacher/mentor was required to be with his or her
students from 1st grade through to 7th grade, at least and preferably until
the completion of matriculation four years later.

Professor Clement, though dead set against the idea at first, gradually
swung around to my point of view. I didn't care too much about the award of
the PhD, but I did care about my mentor's opinion. His change of heart was
more precious to me than the 'Doctor' I was able to put in front of my
name.

Well the letter arrived on the third day of my retirement. It arrived
Special Delivery from Italy and I was intrigued. The return address was a
PO Box in Milan.

It stated simply that, with great respect, I was invited to an interview
with the principal. The object was to assess my suitability for employment
at the school. This letter would have gone immediately into the bin, save
the writer was apologetic to have interrupted my retirement so early in the
piece, but was urged to contact me by Professor Clement. Now I was really
intrigued.

Further, I was offered return First Class travel to Milan by either plane
or train, First Class Hotel in Milan and a limousine to take me to the
interview the day after I arrived. I supposed the offer of the train was in
deference to the demise of my late lamented parents. As a sweetener, or so
I thought, the letter also indicated that the school had been looking at my
academic work and had been attempting to apply the principles for the last
four years. The school indicated that they would be more than pleased to
pay any consultant fees I thought might be applicable. The school would be
honoured if I would stay a week, and I should bring clothing for both warm
and cold weather.

I wondered a little at this, but thought if the school were in the
Apennines then it could get cold, even in summer.

I shunted off an email to the RSVP address I was given, and stated that I
would try and get a booking on a Trans-European train to Milan from London
in two days time. I received a return email so quickly, that I had to
wonder at the efficiency of the staff at the school.

I was to be picked up by limo from my home in Tunbridge Wells at 8 am in
two days time, be taken to London, Waterloo International and take the
Eurostar to Paris, a transfer in Paris by local train to Paris-Lyons and
then another transfer from Geneva to Milan. All up a roughly 13 hour
trip. All had been booked and paid for. I had a first class sleeper. I was
not to worry about my baggage as the school had made special
arrangements. I would receive a credit card from the limo driver for
incidentals. I was not to stint myself on anything. The "anything" was
underlined.

All arrangements ran like clockwork. I was met in Milan by the same very
friendly limo driver who had driven me in England. He must have flown
back. He dropped me at my hotel, a very discreet and very expensive little
hostelry a trifle off the beaten track. I was treated like a prince, and
was told by the manager that all arrangements had been made for my
overnight stay. He recommended that as I was there for only one night, I
should eat at the hotel, as he understood I was to leave early in the
morning.

He rang the bell, and a stunning young porter, with liquid Italian eyes,
took my bag and briefcase and escorted me to the lift. I had the
penthouse. The porter did what porters do with my bags, and busied himself
around the room. He opened a bottle of champagne (the Widow, no less) and
poured me a glass. He gracefully handed me the glass and I, I regret to
say, swilled it down like a philistine, while looking into his eyes.

"May I get sir another one?" his melodic voice chimed.

"Mmmmmmm," I nodded rather idiotically.

He repeated the performance. This time I was a little more circumspect and
didn't quaff or guzzle. I sipped the perfectly chilled nectar, and asked
him his name.

"Giovanni, sir."

"Ahhhh," I exhaled. "As in the Room".

"Oh no sir, I hope I am much nicer than he."

"Educated, as well as gorgeous," I mused. Out aloud I said, "I'm sure you
are." I tried desperately not to leer. I felt I failed.

"If it is at all possible, Giovanni, I would like to eat in my suite. Will
you be serving?"

"Of course, sir, if that is what you wish."

"You don't finish work or something, do you?"

"Oh no, sir. Until you leave sir, I am to attend strictly to your, and only
your, needs. Would you like a menu, sir?"

I felt a very distinct tightening in my very brief briefs, and a pronounced
internal flutter around my pubes. I was horny, and somewhat in lust with
this lovely lad. He exuded sexuality, sensuality and something else I
couldn't quite put my finger on. I stupidly felt I knew him. He also
awakened something in me I hadn't felt for a long time - my own sexuality.

"No menu thanks Giovanni. You will eat with me, so order what you would
want and double it. Oh, and bring another couple of bottles of the Widow,
please."

"Sir?"

"The Widow - Veuve, Giovanni, Veuve Clicquot."

"Oh of course sir, please forgive my stupidity."

"That was not stupidity, that was simply not knowing - now you have learned
something. Be happy." Dr Drake Fillan, always the teacher!

"Thank you, sir."

That "sir" was definitely going to have to go, and now I looked forward to
what I had thought was going to be a boring evening in Milan.

I tried to thrust a 50 Euro note in his pocket, but he politely declined,
and informed me he was not permitted to accept gratuities. He indicated he
was on a permanent retainer from "The School" (I could hear the capital
letters in his voice) equal to a porter's normal wage. He could work at
anything else as well. The proviso was that if the school needed him to
attend to an important guest, he dropped whatever he was doing and was at
the hotel in a heartbeat. He was then paid four weeks wages for every week
or part thereof he had to work on behalf of The School. As part of the
deal, when the guest was there, he had no time off and slept on the
premises, either in the suite (my heart went pitter-patter) or in the
servants' quarters. He was on 24 hour call, and, so he informed me, was
required to meet any needs or wants of The School's guest. He stressed
"any". I sighed. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

Before he left to attend to dinner, I mentioned I would take advantage of
the spa bath. He set it running and waited for me to undress. I was more
than half hard, but I thought I would live dangerously anyway. I
disrobed. He collected my clothes and took them away to be laundered, he
told me. He asked me what clothes I wanted to wear that evening. I told him
I would be wearing only track pants and a muscle shirt. He asked about
underwear, and with an eye to the evening ahead, I told him I wouldn't be
needing any.

The lovely little bulge I had earlier noted in his tight-fitting uniform
pants appeared to be a little more full. He very deferentially asked if I
would be requiring him to wear uniform when he served me this evening, or
would I prefer he wear something more casual. I rather thought a spot more
casual might be the go.  He smiled, made a little bow and then left.

I now had a serious decision to make. Should I have a wank now, or hope
that the innuendoes of our conversation were what I hoped they were. I
opted for abstinence.

I dried off and slipped on my track suit pants and form fitting top. I
looked at myself in the mirror and thought I didn't look too bad. Swimming
kept me in trim. The top hugged me, and my equipment was just hinted at in
the baggy trackies. I loved it swinging free. I thought I should do this
more often.

I rang down for my dinner, and within five minutes, Giovanni had wheeled it
up on the service trolley. When I sat down, I noted he had set the table
for one. I quizzed him about this. He indicated that he thought he could
eat in another room, and leave me in peace. He understood very quickly this
was not my intention at all. I hadn't initially noticed the mistake because
I was actually stunned by Giovanni himself.

He definitely had changed into casual gear. His kit almost exactly mirrored
mine. A pure white muscle shirt set off his solid, tanned arms perfectly. I
noted he had no hair in his armpits. He was wearing dark blue silky track
pants. They were considerably more form fitting than mine. Every one of his
lithe movements as he busied himself around the setting and serving ritual
was mirrored by his small bulge going in an opposite direction. No wonder I
was distracted.

He set a place for himself and filled my champagne flute. He abstained.

"Have some champers, Giovanni."

"Thank you, sir, but I tend to get a little bit giggly and silly with
fizz."

He used the English slang quite naturally. His English was superb. But
then, so was everything else about him.

"I think I should like to see you a little giggly and silly... oh, and if
you call me "sir" one more time, I shall have to spank you."

"Was that me who said that?" I thought. "Maybe it's me who is getting
giggly and silly."

"Very well, sir. What shall I call you, Dr Matthews?" He then realised his
error.

"Oops, I said sir. Does that mean you shall have to spank me?" His liquid
black Italianate eyes sparkled with laughter.

"We shall see. Perhaps I shall allow you one error."

He looked a little crestfallen, and said, "OK, thank you sir." He looked up
at me slyly.

"Call me Drake , and I heard you make a second mistake," I said with mock
severity. "That's a spanking."

He made a terror-struck face, but his laughter-filled eyes betrayed him.

I was enjoying this lad's company very much. The little flirtations were
endearing. He was intelligent. He had a basic understanding of theoretical
pedagogy. From the questions he asked, I knew he had read something more
than the Italian version of Reader's Disgust, as I liked to call that
hideous monthly.

He had obviously read more than the comics as well. I noted that he was
conversant with Baldwin, Capote, Shakespeare as well as Italian and Latin
classics such as Allighieri, Pliny and Petrarch. I wondered about this
gorgeous young man.

"Where did you go to school?" I asked.

"Oh, I went to The School."

I knew which one he meant. The capitals were in his voice again.

"Well you are the most well-educated hotel porter I have ever met."

His beautiful laughter tinkled out. "Oh, I'm just doing my practical," he
said matter-of-factly.

"Waddayamean?" I asked rather stupidly.

"Well, The School took note of a famous educationist who has a thesis that
all kids should have some time working after they finish High School and
before they take on university education. So, though my father is well off,
I am working here to get some of my own money together for things that I
want. "

I enunciated carefully. The fizz was taking hold. "Do you approve of the
theory?"

"Of course. I think it is brilliant. I wouldn't have made so many contacts,
nor understood a single thing about the practical world. I do volunteer
work for a couple of Italian Humanitarian organisations when I don't have
to be here. Sure, I work for The School and am paid a good wage, but then
my father is rich, just like nearly everyone else in The School, and I have
learned how privileged I am working in a so-called lowly job. I know my
mark from the IB, and I am going to Cambridge to study law, I think you
call it "read law" in England, don't you?" - I nodded.

"Well, I certainly have some useful contacts there," I said.

"There you see... I now have some contacts in Cambridge because I work as a
hotel porter and am having dinner with a very famous educationist who wrote
a thesis..."

He started gabbling on. He was getting giggly and silly. And I certainly
was already there.

"Right, let's have some coffee before punishment time."

"You can't, you can't!"

"I can, I can - and I will, without coffee."

I made a grab for him, and just caught him as he ducked away. I felt his
lovely soft skin, and he fell into my arms. We both tumbled on the very
adequate lounge. He had fallen on my lap. I held him like a little boy and
I ran my hand up his chest. The game had ended and we were now in for real.

He melted in my arms as he lay across my lap. He reached up and touched my
cheek gently and caressed me there. My face had never felt so alive. I
looked at his eyes. I touched his hair. The jet of it was so soft. I looked
and his beautiful straight eyebrows and his soft, though angular face. I
felt his body more and was further entranced by the softness of his skin
which overlay the glorious masculine hardness of his body. My left arm was
cradling him while my right hand played with his chest and man
nipples. They became erect under my fingers and I leant down and kissed
him. He was compliant in my arms and the tension was palpable. Our tongues
touched and the electricity was there. We circled each other's tongue and
our erotic tension rose. I broke the kiss and started to nuzzle his
neck. He responded in kind. I cuddled him close and he slipped his hand up
my shirt. His hand rubbed my smooth chest and electrified my tits.

"I want to take you to bed," I whispered in his ear. "Is that what you
want?"

He pulled away a little. He whispered back, though there was no-one to
hear.

"I will tell you the truth." His English seemed to get a bit
stilted. "Before dinner, I was being payed to ensure you had everything you
desired, including me organising pleasure in the bedroom for you, if that
is what you wanted. I can get very nice rent boys. Now I want you for you -
is that right English?

"Correct English," I said automatically.

"Is that correct English?" he repeated.

"You for yourself, would be better - but I understand perfectly."

"Do you still want me?" he asked demurely.

"Yes I do, but only if you want."

"I want you because I like you. I have only felt like this about my friends
at The School and of course the teachers. I have not felt so comfortable
with a School guest before."

I kissed him again, and I moved us in the direction of the suite's bedroom.

He stood in the room with a beatific smile on his face, and I moved to him.

"May I undress you, please?"

"You are the first person outside of the School ever to ask that. Thank
you... Would you please undress me. Would you please take me as you wish. I
want you to."

"Giovanni," I asked softly and caressing his cheek, "Would you do me the
honour of doing the same to me. Equal lovers, tonight, back to work when I
leave in the morning."

"Si." I noted the slip but didn't comment. "But if we are equal lovers
tonight, there is something I must tell you."

"Yes, and that is?"

"I have a lover. My lover is still back at The School."

"He is younger than you?"

"No. He will work at The School. Bran wants to be a teacher, and The School
is trying out a new programme. I think I know what it is and I hope it
works for him. He will be the greatest teacher. Almost as good as you." The
sombre moment of revelation had passed, as he looked at me with a cheeky
grin and a single raised eyebrow. I really wished I could do that.

I bent down quickly and kissed him. Just a peck.

He riposted immediately with, "Too much seriousness... time for some
bubbles."

He poured us each a flute of still perfectly chilled champagne and we
toasted "equal lovers".

I placed my hands on his hips and drew him towards me. Our champagney
breaths touched and it was like a butterfly kiss. I ran my hands up the
inside of his shirt and slipped it over his head. His body was stunningly
beautiful. I kissed between his man tits. His trackies hung low on his hips
and his light treasure trail ran down to his manhood. His hands ran up my
sides and he lifted off my shirt. He likewise kissed me on the chest and we
embraced. Neither of us was fully hard. As one, we slid our hands down each
other's waist and eased the trackies down. Finally we were naked before
each other. We pulled each other close and our half-hard cocks began to
rise. We gently tumbled on the bed and began to slowly writhe together. We
were taking each other... we were caressing each other... we were kissing
each other. Gradually our passion rose and our loving became more
frantic. My mouth went down to taste Giovanni's uncut prick. It was
beautiful and worthy of adoration. I kissed his member and took it into my
mouth. I have always loved cocks and his was choice. I kissed and licked
his manhood. I took his balls in my hand and played with them a short while
and finally sucked them. It was a snug fit to get them both in my mouth,
but I did it. His arse arched, and I ran my finger down his crack and
touched his most secret spot.

"I know Bran is your lover," I muttered, "And this is properly his
territory, but may I go there?"

"Yes, yes...do whatever you want... equal lovers tonight, remember."

I kissed the squirming youth on the mouth and felt his tongue come out to
play. We kissed some more, and caressed and cuddled, meshing each other
into each other's space.

I went back down to his tool and ran my tongue underneath, across his balls
down his perineum and to his pleasure hole. I licked and kissed that
precious spot he was so willingly letting me share with his lover.  His
moans indicated he was allowing me access and he wasn't going to stop our
ultimate act of... Was this love or just plain lust? I didn't know. Maybe a
hint of love with a barrow of lust. Maybe.

I had not slept with another person since before I had started my thesis. I
had had to satisfy myself. Being overtly gay and working in a respected,
but more modern university did not go down well, especially in the field I
had chosen. If I had been in either Oxford or Cambridge it may have been
different. There is a discreet culture of the "love that dare not speak its
name" amongst the dons and the students. However, in the newer
institutions, though loudly espousing the principles of "equal opportunity"
and "equal rights", the practice was quite different. So I quietly stayed
in the closet, did my work and jacked myself cross-eyed in the evenings.

The feeling of raw sex between Giovanni and me was intense. He was hairless
save for a small, neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair above his beautiful
prong. He wasn't big and he wasn't small. Our dicks matched save he was
uncut. Our foreplay was intense and passionate. He asked me to take him. I
did. I slipped in with ease, and our coupling was a melding of two into
one.

After I came, I was still erotically charged, as was he. We cuddled and
kissed more and the passion rose to fever pitch again. For me it had been
so long since I had been so close to another man. I asked him if he wanted
to take me, and he did.

His entry was gentle. It was almost as if he knew I had never done this
before. I hadn't. Sucking, kissing, frottage and mutual jacking off was all
I had gotten to in my undergrad years. With the KY so thoughtfully provided
by the hotel he gently and erotically oiled me. I hoped I had been as
gentle and tender with him. His entry was firm, sure and slow. He kept his
eyes fixed on my face so that, or so I found out later, he could be sure he
was not hurting me. He muttered endearments to me and took my earlobes
gently between his teeth. He played with my nipples, and frequently kissed
me. I felt he was not so much taking his pleasure, but sacrificing his own
pleasure for mine. It hurt a little, but that hurt was overcome by the
incredible lust and sense of affection passing between us. Again, as he
took me as his for the evening, I had a wonderful sense of being completely
drawn into and becoming one with another human being.

He pleasured me. He made love to me. I hoped he was getting what I was
getting. I hoped it wasn't just take on my part. Our climactic joining
complete, we lay in each other's arms. We murmured to each other and
touched each other and drifted off to sleep.

Some hours later, I awoke and took him again. In the early hours of the
morning he did the same to me. After our loving that time we stayed awake
talking and touching.

I guess I didn't have too much sleep, but when I arose I felt as if I had
had the best sleep of my life. I was totally refreshed. Giovanni had gone
into the little kitchen to make coffee. It smelt delicious as it was
brewing. The preparation looked even better, as he was totally nude while
he was doing it. His dick was flaccid and his foreskin had rolled over the
head, and the small eye just peeped through. I wished I could have had
much, much longer here.

I did my morning things in the bathroom and pulled on my trackies. Giovanni
handed me my coffee. I must have drifted off at some stage or other
previously, because as I leant forward to kiss him, the delicious odour of
teen was mixed with the delicate fragrance of soap. The combination was
intoxicating and I impulsively pulled him towards me by his dick. He
laughed and hardened slightly. I nuzzled his neck and whispered if I could
have some special cream in my coffee. He giggled and said,

"You'll have to milk the bull, then."

"With pleasure," I replied.

He spurted his special cream into my coffee amidst much wiggling, giggling
and panting. As he started to droop, I kissed the end, and licked off the
remainder. Until last night, I hadn't realised the taste of semen was so
powerful.

I started drinking my coffee. I couldn't really taste his boy milk in it,
but it turned me on knowing it was there. He stood just near me, ready to
do my bidding. He was the perfect servant. I didn't like it. I moved to the
lounge and indicated he should sit next to me. He did. I cuddled him close
to me.

"Have you had coffee this morning?" I asked.

"Yes, of course. I am Italian." He smiled. I melted... again.

"You should try this, it's delicious."

He just looked at me, his eyes laughing and his grin showing perfect teeth.

My cock rose, and without asking he pulled my trackies down a tad, and
started to gently suckle me. His finger snaked under me and he tickled my
arse. Even after last night, I still blew a load of mammoth proportions. I
didn't know morning coffee could be, well... so intense and pleasurable.

"Giovanni," I said looking him in the eyes, "Last night was the first time
anybody has entered me, made love to me. Thank you."

His eyes, those beautiful black, liquid eyes, became even more moist as
tears welled up.

He nuzzled into my neck and whispered a barely audible "Grazie - thank
you."

I kissed him deeply, one more time. We shared a short time of silence
together. He was nestled in my arms with his head on my bare chest,
listening to my heart beat. I just held him. I glanced at the clock and saw
it was about 9:30. I was to have been be picked up at 8:30.

Giovanni told me the limo driver was an employee of The School (those
capitals again) and he was waiting for Giovanni to say I was ready. I
thought it was time. I am a punctual person by nature and hate keeping
anyone waiting, and hate to be kept waiting.

A little of Giovanni's semen had landed on my stomach. I decided not to
wash it off, but to wear it for the day. Just a small memento.

I started to get up, but he pushed me down again and kissed me. I told him
I had to go but I wanted to see him again. We kissed like lovers, and he
indicated he would be working until early September so he could start the
Michaelmas Term at Cambridge which started in early October. I made a
mental note to move closer to Cambridge and buy a house there. After all, I
could.

He insisted that I should wear my trackies and muscle shirt to meet the
principal. I told him that no way was I going to a professional meeting
looking like I was trying on a seduction. He told me to dress comfortably
as it was a long drive. He asked me not to wear underwear so that he could
think of me as just having a single layer between me and the world.

I laughed at his fancy, and agreed. He had slipped back into his clothes
from last night. My heart leapt. He looked wonderful. He advised me that
the limo driver was very good natured - which I had already noted - and
would take care of ALL my needs. He arched that bloody eyebrow again.

The phone rang and the manager told me the driver was on his way up to
collect my bags. I hugged Giovanni again. I sneaked in a quick kiss, and
opened the door to the driver.


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