Date: Sat, 14 Dec 2019 13:20:21 +0000 (UTC)
From: Brock Archer <brockarcher@yahoo.com>
Subject: Coming of Age in Texas Chapter 23

Typography Note: Sentences in [brackets] represent the narrator's unspoken
thoughts.

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-----------------------------------

Coming of Age in Texas: Chapter 23: Milan

Mike flew back to Italy with me, and we were met at Milan's Linate Airport
by Troy and Maria, who took us to the STRAF Hotel, a Marriott Design hotel,
where they had been staying while our family was in Ireland. Maria had
chosen that hotel because it is centrally located between Teatro alla Scala
(the opera house) and the Academy for the Performing Arts, where Troy had
been studying.

Troy and I spent the rest of the afternoon getting caught up—in
bed—and I'm quite sure that Mike and Maria did as well.

At dinner, Mike and I told Troy and Maria all about our week in Ireland,
and they told us about their week in Milan. Every morning, Troy had spent
three hours studying advanced Italian with his tutor, but most of those
lessons took place as they toured the city. His afternoons were spent
taking voice lessons and studying music theory and music composition at the
Academy. These were all subjects that Maria taught at Juilliard, but she
told Troy that he should take advantage of the opportunity to study under
other experts while he had the chance.

Since the next day was a Sunday, Troy had no lessons, and as much as I
wanted to spend the whole day having sex with him, I was dying to go to
Santa Maria delle Grazie, where Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper and other
great works of art are housed. Santa Maria delle Grazie, a church and
Dominican convent recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site, is a work of
art in itself.

Rather than meet back up with Mike and Maria for dinner, Troy and I decided
just to walk around Milan, enjoying the ambiance.

With 1.2 million people, Milan is Italy's second largest city. Though Italy
as a whole ranks low on the rankings of gay-friendly countries (32nd, just
below Slovakia), Milan is the notable outlier, perhaps influenced by the
presence of all the fashion houses. Milan is the fashion capital of the
world and the home of Italy's stock exchange.

Troy and I found ourselves on Via Sammartini, where we stumbled across
several gay bars. "I wish I were 18," I said. Overhearing me, a young man
coming out of one of the bars said, "The legal drinking age in Italy is
16. Some bars have higher limits, but many will let you in." Then, handing
me his drink, he said, "Pino (cheers)!"

I've never been much of a drinker, but it was really special to be in a
place with other gay men and not have to feel uneasy. Troy and I got hit on
a lot, but we also met many guys who just enjoyed talking with a couple of
Americans. One group of four guys invited us to join them at their
table. They had given each other nicknames: Sorcio (Dirty Boy), Galleto
(The Flirt), Zio (Dude), and Ciliegino (Little Cherry). As a group, they
called themselves I Fuorilegge (The Outlaws).

We learned a lot from The Outlaws. Not only did we learn that the drinking
age in Italy was indeed 16, but we also learned about rainbow flags. I had
seen them on several buildings, but I had not known that the flag indicated
a gay-owned or gay-friendly business. We learned too about the handkerchief
code, and when they began explaining what each color meant and how the
meaning varied depending on whether the handkerchief hung out of the left
pocket or the right, I flashed back to the bandana that Mike had given me
and how Armando had used them in our photo shoots, and I wondered if Mike
and Armando had known about the code.

The Outlaws made us honorary members of their gang and dubbed me Gigino
(Cute Young Guy) and Troy Biondo (Blondie, Clint Eastwood's nickname in The
Good, the Bad, and the Ugly), which was ironic since Troy was anything but
blond. They had a big laugh when I told them that Troy was not a cowboy
since he was from Chicago and had probably never even seen a horse until he
moved to Texas a year ago. I also told them that I was not actually a
cowboy, just a farm boy, to which Dude said, "Cowboys, farm boys. No
matter; both sexy. And I bet you are a lot of fun in the hay loft."

I thanked him for the compliment, and he leaned over and kissed me on the
lips. When I flinched, he apologized, but I explained, "I'm just not used
to being kissed by another man in public, but I like it." So, he kissed me
again, and then each of the guys got up, walked around the table, and
kissed Troy and me both. Dirty Boy stuck his hand inside Troy's shirt and
rubbed his hairy chest as he kissed him.

The Flirt even asked us to dance, which was another first for us, dancing
with a man in public. When my dance partner held me close and began
grinding, I told him that if he kept that up, I'd get hard. He stepped
back, pointed at my crotch, and said, "That's not hard? Damn!" And he said
it loud enough that quite a few of the guys on the dance floor stopped to
look. Troy, who was dancing with Dirty Boy, looked at The Flirt, pointed
his own finger at my crotch, and then, licking his lips, gave a
thumbs-up. I was embarrassed, but also turned on.

When Dirty Boy complimented Troy on being such a fantastic dancer—which
he was—I said, "If you think that's talent, you should hear him sing."
On that cue, Little Cherry went over to the DJ, who announced that the club
had a guest singer, and the crowd goaded Troy onto the stage. Troy did an
impromptu and saucy rendition of "Rhinestone Cowboy," and when he got to
the line, "Riding out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo," he did a pelvic
thrust that had the crowd screaming for more. So, he gave them more. He
finished the song with a strip tease. The crowd cheered, stomped their
feet, and demanded an encore. Some of the guys shook their booties at him
and slapped the butt cheek that displayed their handkerchiefs.

For his encore, Troy decided to change the pace. He sang "The Prayer" from
the movie Quest for Camelot, and when he finished, half the people in the
club were in tears.

When Troy started to step down from the stage, the DJ pulled him back and
told him that he couldn't leave the audience in that mood; he had to pick
it up. So, he performed a rendition of Faith Wells' classic rock-and-roll
hit "My Guy" that lifted the crowd off their seats and had them pouring
onto the dance floor. Not only did the crowd give him uproarious applause
at the finish, but some tossed their handkerchiefs onto the stage, and a
couple of guys even stripped and tossed their underwear at Troy. Troy
picked up a jockstrap and put it on his head like a headband, and he walked
off the stage with the waistband of a pair of colorful briefs between his
teeth. Strolling back to our table, he was mobbed by guys who wanted to
touch him, kiss him, or grope him.

When Troy mentioned to The Outlaws that we had been modeling for a
photographer in Rome named Armando, we were quite surprised that they all
were familiar with his name and his work. They said that his art was famous
all over Italy and around the world and was particularly popular in ads in
gay magazines and on gay Websites. "There has been some debate about
whether or not he is gay," said Dirty Boy, "but I heard that he has a
boyfriend in France, another photographer."

"Wait," I said. "Not Claude."

"Yes, that's his name."

"No, that can't be. They hate each other."

"They are professional rivals," said Dirty Boy, "but they actually love
each other."

"Wow! I never would have guessed it," said Troy.

When we told them about some of the more juicy features of our modeling
experiences, at one time or another, they all had to reach under the table
to adjust themselves.  "Fuck," said Dude, "I would love to watch you
model." Little Cherry said, "I would love to have you model for me." So, we
invited them back to our hotel room—to show them what it's like to ride
a cowboy.

The next day, Monday, Troy had to go back to school, Italian lessons in the
morning and music lessons in the afternoon. He introduced me to his
language tutor in our hotel lobby. Giuseppe, a doctoral candidate in
linguistics at Pavia University, was very good looking and even sexy in a
nerdy sort of way. Although he was fluent in English and several other
languages, he spoke only Italian. It was his way of forcing Troy to speak
the language. Guiseppe had a lesson planned for that day, but he said that
for the rest of the week, we could integrate the lessons into visits to
tourist attractions and landmarks in the city and that I could go with them
as long as I didn't distract Troy from his lessons. [It's not Troy I would
like to distract.]

Not only was I left free for the day, but so was Mike since Maria had
commitments at La Scala and the Academy for Performing Arts. We decided to
stroll around the neighborhood, stopping a couple of times to enjoy a cup
of coffee at some of the many outdoor cafes. It was also the first
opportunity that Mike and I had had to chat one on one since we had left
Texas. He asked me if I was still feeling confused, and I confessed that I
was, but not as much. He told me that he was impressed with the way I had
handled the photo sessions in Athens and Rome, and I thanked him for giving
me the opportunities.

Troy met up with us for a quick lunch and invited us to go with him to the
Academy. He said that Maria had something special planned. At the Academy,
Maria took us to a recording studio and asked Troy to sing "O Sole Mio"
just the way he had for Armando.  She had even set up the video taken in
Rome so that Troy could sync his voice with the lips in the video.

"What's this all about?" Mike asked.

"You'll find out," Maria replied. "Trust me." Of course, we all trusted
Maria completely.  She had given us every reason to trust her and no
reasons not to.

The recording took less than half an hour, and Troy went off to his next
lesson. Maria and Mike slipped away to some place where my presence was
neither needed nor wanted. I told Troy that I wanted to go back to Via
Sammartini and would meet him back at our hotel later.

Most of the gay bars on Via Sammartini, the ones with the rainbow flags,
were not open so early in the afternoon, and the ones that were had almost
no customers. As I walked down the street, though, I found several other
businesses displaying rainbow flags. I went into one that appeared to be a
clothing store. I told the cute young salesman that I was just looking. He
smiled at me and said, "So am I." I smiled back and thanked him.

The store was much bigger than it appeared from the outside. There was one
large section for sexy underwear and swimsuits and another one for shirts
and pants. I began looking at the pants when the cute salesman, who
introduced himself as Gabriele, came up, put his arm around my shoulder,
and took the pair I was holding away from me.  "No, no, no," he said. "Your
body is much too sexy for that one. Let me help you." He practically
dragged me over to another section of the store and began flipping through
the pants until he came to what he was apparently looking for. "Come," he
commanded, as he led me to the fitting rooms. He handed me the pants and
said, "Try on."

As I took off the pants I was wearing, Gabriele did not turn away, but
stood next to the stall watching me with the curtain half open. When he saw
my Massive underwear, he said, "Very nice. Perfect for you."

The white pants he had given me to try on were made of a stretch material,
somewhat like sweat pants, but much nicer. They fit my body like a glove,
making my package look even bigger than usual. I asked if he had the same
pants in black, he said, "Not for you.  Ugly man wear black. Beautiful man
like you wear light color. It make your bulge stand out," he said, as he
cupped my balls and bounced them. "You want black, I show you."

Gabriele led me into another room at the back of the store that featured
leather clothes—jackets, pants, arm bands, and what he called "fetish
gear." Glass cases displayed sex toys, cock rings, condoms, lubes, and
other paraphernalia. In one corner, he pulled a pair of leather pants off a
rack and handed them to me. "Here," he said, pointing to another, closer
fitting room.

After I removed the white pants he had previously selected for me, I began
to put on the leather pants when he stopped me, pointing to my briefs. When
I indicated that I did not understand, he yanked my briefs down and
demanded, "Off." I stepped out of the underwear and put on the leather
pants commando style. The outline of my dick, hanging down my leg, stood
out even in the black pants. Gabriele reached for my cock and began rubbing
it through the material. "Very nice," he said. "You will be very popular in
gay bars."

Gabriele also showed me a pair of chaps and said I could wear them with a
leather brief or jock strap...or nothing. I was skeptical, but curious, so
I said I would try them on. He fetched me a pair of chaps and leather
briefs with a fold-down flap.

I heard someone else enter the store, and Gabriele went and spoke to that
person and returned just as I was getting the chaps on over the
briefs. Looking in the mirror, I had to admit they were hellaciously
sexy. Gabriele thought so too. He asked me to turn around so he could see
how well they fit. As I turned, he ran his hands up and down the chaps,
asking me how they felt—the way Armando often did. I wasn't sure if he
was asking me how well the chaps felt or how well his hands felt on me.

Before I knew what was happening, Gabriele had pulled down the flap on my
briefs and let my cock fly. "See," he said, "very convenient. You will
always be ready for any opportunity. Like now." And he was down on my cock
in a flash.

I shot my wad into his mouth, and he took every drop of it. I know this,
because he rose up and spit it into my mouth. We kissed and got cum all
over our lips. As we passed my cum back and forth, I heard the bell over
the front door ring as customers entered the store—again and again and
again. Fearing that we would get caught, I snapped the flap on my underwear
shut, grabbed up my things, and dashed for the exit, where I was met by
another clerk (presumably the person Gabriele had gone to speak to
earlier). He grasped my shoulders and said, "You missed a spot," whereupon
he licked my face. Once I got over the shock, I clutched my clothes tighter
and rushed out the door.

When I got to the nearest subway stop for my ride back to the hotel, I
reached into my pocket for a token, and it suddenly hit me that I wasn't
wearing my pants. I was wearing the leather chaps with the leather brief.
No wonder I was getting so many stares from people on the sidewalk. I
fumbled through the clothes in my arms to find a token in my pants pocket,
and I continued to get stares on the subway and as I walked through the
lobby of the hotel.


(Author's Note: There 10 chapters remaining in this story, so keep
reading.)