Date: Sat, 13 Aug 2005 19:15:35 +0200 From: A.K. Subject: Italian Brothers 2 - Tano & Maso - 01/11 (historical) ---------------------------- ITALIAN BROTHERS 2 TANO & MASO by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2005 written September 2nd, 1993 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Matt & Dave ----------------------------- USUAL DISCLAIMER "ITALIAN BROTHERS 2 - TANO & MASO" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest. ----------------------------- CHAPTER 1. A Way to Make It Pass Gaetano rose up and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm. He looked around and saw his brothers, his cousins and all the others continuing to reap the wheat down the field, making an almost straight line, and it almost seemed like that they didn't feel the sun's heat. He asked himself how they managed. "Tano! It's not rest time yet!" he heard his father's voice thunder. The boy bent down again and started to reap once more with a will, feeling his father's severe eyes on him. Grasp, cut, grasp, cut, grasp, cut, then to tie up all the wheat and to start again -- this way, always this way, for hours. If it was at least his own wheat! You toil, toil, and toil, and in the end, only a handful for you and all the rest for the master -- it's a "Lousy world!" as his father always said. Gaetano thought that he would die in this way, as did his grandfather, and sooner or later his father -- on the land irrigated by his sweat, and not even in a bed like a Christian! "What is this life?" he murmured quietly while he was tying another sheaf. He started to reap again. The sickle's handle was hurting his aching, reddened hands -- those hands that he had been so proud of, those hands that they said were destined to hold the bow of a violin but instead had to handle a sickle! It's a "lousy world" for sure! When he was eleven years old, the parish priest said to his family that Gaetano had a real talent for music, therefore, in spite of his family's unwillingness, he finally convinced the boy's parents to send him to the town to take violin lessons. A certain Master Folli (and he was really somewhat of a fool) accepted him as his pupil. As his family didn't have the needed money to pay for his lessons, somewhat because of the insistent prayers of the parish priest, somewhat because the boy was really gifted, the Master took him as a servant. So Gaetano paid for his lessons by doing servant work for the Master. He slept on a pallet made of leaves in the downstairs closet, he ate the man's leftovers, but he was not worse off than at home, on the contrary... He had studied violin for almost four years and he already started to be quite good, both because of his talent and the diligence with which he followed the lessons. He liked playing violin very much. But just before the harvest that year, one of his brothers, Renzo, two years older than him, disappeared from home. Some said he enlisted in the army, others said he followed the gypsies (a caravan passed nearby exactly on the day he disappeared), others said he went away to seek his fortune... Be as it was, his father, who said he could not give up another good pair of arms, went to take Gaetano back and put him to work at once. Goodbye violin, goodbye dreams, goodbye fool Master Folli, forever. To Gaetano, this was worse than an icy shower. He didn't cry because he would be ashamed of being seen crying. But inside him, a dejected voice continued to repeat, "It is not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair..." Finally the break bell rang. They all swarmed to a corner of the field and gathered under the big oak -- the elders in its shadow, and then the others, in the order of age, so Gaetano, together with the younger ones, were in full sun. The women brought a big basket full of bread crusts and slices of cheese and also some wine amphorae. While the boy was devouring his scanty food, made tasty by his hunger, Silvio approached him very quietly. Silvio was his third cousin. "Hi, Tano!" "Hi, Silvio!" "Your brother Renzo really ran away with a gypsy girl?" "What do I know? He went away, that's all." "I... might just... run away too!" Gaetano looked at him, astonished, then said, "Don't let anybody hear you say that, Silvio, or else they would skin you alive." "But I can tell you. I know your mouth is tight." "Yeah!" answered the boy, giving an angry bite to his bread crust. He didn't know why, but his cousin's words annoyed him. Why? His thoughts went back to some weeks ago, when he had just come back home for a little while. One late evening, just before supper, he went to the hayloft, to be alone and quiet for a while. But after a while, Silvio arrived, "What are you doing here? This is my place!" "It is yours? No way! You didn't put your mark here, did you?" Gaetano answered while chewing a straw stem and remaining stretched out, his arms under his head, his legs spread, almost to make his cousin understand he had no intention to leave him that place. "I was coming here when you were in town, therefore I came here before you did, and therefore it's mine!" his cousin stubbornly said, looking at him, frowned, but not belligerently. "You say that. And then," he added in a conciliating tone, "such fuss -- there is room for two here, isn't it?" "But not for what I came here to do," his cousin answered with a giggle. "And what are you going to do here, somersaults?" Gaetano then asked jokingly. Silvio looked at him, knitting his forehead, as he did whenever he was thinking very hard. Gaetano was looking at his slender body, waiting for his cousin to say something, determined not to move aside. Silvio was sixteen years old, one year older than him. The worn out shirt and the breeches tied at his waist with a piece of thin rope, barely covered an already firm body. His cousin knelt near Gaetano, and while continuing to look at him with his knitted forehead, asked him with an almost conspiratorial tone, "Tell me, Tano, you... are you already ripe?" "What's that? I am not a fig!" Gaetano retorted, amused by that unexpected and weird question. "No, I mean... At times... Don't you feel an... urge?" "For what?" the boy asked, not understanding the question. "Come on! Don't you get an urge in you, an urge, that's all, an urge that... well... you feel all weird and...your prick... awakens." The boy understood what his cousin meant, and then admitted, "Well, yes, sure, it happens..." "And then, what do you do?" "What do I do? I wait for it to pass, don't you?" "Not me," Silvio said with a superior smile on his lips, "I make it pass." "And how? You tell it to lie down and it goes down?" Gaetano asked him with a little sneer. "No! Curley taught me how to do it." "Oh, Curley? And how do you do it?" "You really don't know?" "No way, I don't know," Gaetano answered, irritated. "Well if... if you swear you won't tell anybody, I'll teach you..." "I swear," Gaetano answered, barely made curious. "Not that way! Do the solemn oath!" Silvio said sternly. Then Gaetano sat up, and crossing his two index fingers on his lips, uttered seriously, "Wooden Cross, Iron Cross, if I speak of that, I go to hell. Iron Cross, Wooden Cross, if I speak of that, I deserve death." "Good," Silvio said then, feeling assured. "Now you open your breeches and lower them, Tano." "My breeches? And for what?" "I have to teach you how you make it pass, don't I?" "But mine is not up now." "Well, no problem. First we make it stand up, and then we will make it go back down, right? You'll see it's great." Gaetano was not really persuaded, but he complied. So Silvio taught Gaetano how to masturbate. Gaetano liked it, therefore after that day, they did it again. They even did it to each other, and rather often, with mutual pleasure. Gaetano didn't tell anybody; therefore Silvio was sure that Gaetano was able to keep his mouth shut. "We will talk about it this evening, Silvio, up in the hayloft." "Yes, sure. Up in the hayloft. After we make it pass." "After we make it pass," the boy confirmed with a condescending smile. So that evening the two boys met in the hayloft, like on many other occasions, they untied their breeches, lowered them and lay on the hay, parallel. Each of them seized his cousin's cock and they slowly masturbated, savoring that secret pleasure they were giving each other. After they reached their orgasms and sated their desires, they tidied up, and started to talk about Silvio's idea of running away. Little by little, Gaetano also became convinced that it would probably be better to run away than to continue that life. On the following days, the two cousins talked about it again, and gradually started to lay out a plan, more and more determined to run away. Pilfering from the larder, they gathered a small bundle of dry food that they hid in the hayloft. And finally one evening, Gaetano told his family he was going to sleep at Silvio's, and his cousin said he would sleep at Gaetano's. Sometimes they slept at each other's houses, so nobody thought it was strange and they had nothing to object. But the two boys met at the hayloft, took their little bundle of food and marched away, trying to get as far away from their houses as possible. They furtively passed though the village in the dead of night, when there was not a living soul on the streets. Just some dogs barked at their passage, but nobody came out to check. In the morning, they were already walking along the river, on the road leading to the sea. They followed the waterway, going downstream. In mid morning they saw some men loading a barge. Gaetano, signaling his cousin to follow him, went to the dock, "Hey, you, where are you going with that load?" "To Contarina." "Oh, we have to go right there. Would you take us with you on your barge?" "It's not a passengers' transport, this one!" "It is that our parish priest told us that our mother, who is in Contarina, is dying and she wants to see us..." Gaetano said with a sad tone. The man scratched his head, looked at the two boys, then said, "Well... in this case... we all are good Christians and... a mother is always a mother. Well, give us a hand to load and then to unload, and I'll take you with us." The two boys helped willingly and so they left with the men, going down the river on the big barge, enjoying the landscapes on the banks of the wide water way. Arriving at their destination, they helped the men to unload, then went away. "And now what do we do? Where do we go?" Silvio asked, suddenly feeling lost, so far from home. "We go somewhere, some big place, to seek our fortunes." "Yes... but where?" "What do I know? Walk, now!" Gaetano shortly answered, starting to walk. Silvio followed him. They stopped just once to eat something and to catch their breath, near a stream, whose water they drank, then resumed their way. After a while, they crossed a passerby. "Where does this road lead?" Gaetano asked. "Where do you want to go?" the man answered, looking at them. "Is there a big town in this direction?" Gaetano asked. "In Venice's land or in the Pope's land?" the man asked. "Where is the biggest and nearest town?" Gaetano insisted. "The biggest or the nearest?" the man quietly asked. "Tell me about both of them," the boy answered, somewhat irritated. "Well then, in this direction, there is Mesola, which belongs to the Pope. In the other direction, there is Chioggia that belongs to Venice. Chioggia is bigger but farther, Mesola on the contrary..." the man started to say. But Gaetano interrupted him, "Well then, we will go to Mesola," he said determinedly, and without saying goodbye to the man, resumed his way. "Why are we going to the Pope's land?" Silvio asked when they were far from the man. "Because it is more difficult for them to find us there, isn't it?" Gaetano answered, thinking that Silvio really didn't understand anything. They walked fast. But when they reached the border, the guards on the bridge stopped them. They couldn't go any further without a pass. Gaetano nodded, and without insisting, turned back, followed by his cousin. "We give up?" Silvio asked. "No way! In a while it will be dark. I think we can get across by swimming either upstream or downstream. Anyway, I think downstream would be better." "But I can't swim..." "I can. What do you want to do, then?" "I think... I think that I... that I would go back..." "What? Do you give up so easily? And then, what will you tell them? They will ask you where you went, where I am..." "I'll say I know nothing about you. I'll say that I went... I went... that I went to meet a girl..." "And they will ask you who she is." "And I will say that she doesn't want me to tell her name." "Are you really determined to go back?" "I think so... If you want to go swimming... and then I, in the Pope's land... they possibly speak Latin and who can understand then?" "As you want. But... keep your mouth shut, understood?" "Of course." So, after dividing in half the food they still had, they said farewell and parted. Gaetano was somewhat sorry that Silvio didn't have the courage to continue, but on the other hand, he wanted to cross the river. And he could just swim, therefore... He waited for nightfall to walk on the bank, and he stopped at a point that seemed to be good for swimming across the river -- the current seemed weak. When it was dark enough, he slipped into the water and started to swim. But the current was dragging him downwards so he had to swim longer than he foresaw. When he finally reached the other bank, he was exhausted. At a certain point, he even feared that he couldn't go forth and neither back, but happily, he was now at last in the Pope's land. "It's not so different from the land on the other side," he confusedly thought while he collapsed on the grass and almost immediately sank into a deep sleep. The sun and the crows' calls awakened him. His clothes were dry on his front but damp on his back, where they touched the grass. The food, wet, had an odd taste, but Gaetano ate it anyway -- he was hungry. Then, he stood up. After carefully stretching, he started walking. As soon as he went up the bank, he saw some houses not so far away. He went towards them, cutting through the fields. When he reached the houses, he asked the first passerby, "This is Mesola, right?" "Mesola? No, my son, this is Goro." "Goro? But we are in the Pope's land, aren't we?" "Yes, sure. But where are you going, to Mesola?" "No, no. A bigger town, but I forgot its name..." The man looked at him with an interrogative air, and then said, "There are a lot of towns... Codigoro, Comacchio... there is Ravenna..." "The biggest one?" "Ravenna, for sure." "And where is it?" "After Comacchio, further south. But on foot, my son, it will take you days and days. It could be something like fifty leagues." "He, who does not have a donkey, uses his feet," Gaetano answered with a proverb, smiling at the man and shrugging his shoulders. "But if you can find somebody going there by sea, then you won't have to wear your feet out..." the man suggested. "I know nobody here. What can I do?" "The Sweep here goes down to Cervia once a week to fetch wheat flour sacks. I know him and if he hasn't left already, you can talk with him. Possibly, in exchange for some coins, he would take you with him on his boat." "Coins? I have as many coins as horns on an angel!" Gaetano answered with a smile. "Oh, I see..." "But possibly... I could help that friend of yours to load and unload... If you talk with him..." the boy proposed, recalling the previous experience he had on the barge. The man told him to follow him. He talked with the Sweep who, after thinking for a long while, in the end agreed to transport the boy in exchange for his help to load and unload. In this way, Gaetano went to Marina di Ravenna. He roamed around the port. He was hungry and had no more food. So he went to the inns to beg for a piece of bread, but without any luck. At the umpteenth tavern, he was about to go out empty-handed as usual, when a man signaled him to go to his table. "Are you calling me, lord?" "Yes, I'm calling you, boy. And I'm no lord at all. Our Lord died on a cross. I'm a captain." "A captain? Are you a soldier?" "No, I am a captain of a ship. Are you hungry, boy?" "Eh, even half as hungry as I am would still be too much." "If you are hungry, it means you have no job and no family." "You are right." "Listen, then. I need a new ship boy on board. You become my ship boy and I will give you food, bed and clothes. Are you game?" "Well... yes... But I don't know what a ship boy has to do. What is a ship boy? If you will first explain me, Captain..." "He is a boy who carries out the heavy works on board, sweeps the bridge, helps the cook, empties the bilge, and... does anything that the sailors ask him to do, in short. You never went on a ship, did you?" "Never. Mine, was a family of country people." "Was?" the captain asked. "Yes, I remained alone..." Gaetano said, assuming a serious expression and spreading his arms with a dejected look. "I see. So, then, do you like my offer?" "But... eating, when?" "Now. Then we go on board. In a while, there will be high tide and we will set sail." Gaetano ate with gusto what the man ordered for him and thought he never ate so well and so much in all his life -- a bowl filled with bean soup and hard bread in small pieces soaked in it, and even two little pieces of tasty rind. Satisfied, he followed the man to his ship. The man introduced him to his crew who were busy preparing to leave the port. Besides the captain, there was the assistant, two men called Corsican and Fiore and a young man called Moor, with a ring on his left ear. Corsican was also the cook on board. "Show the boy where he sleeps and give him some more suitable rags," the captain said, entrusting the boy to Moor. The young man led the boy under the deck. "See, here sleeps Corsican, here is my berth, behind there, Fiore. Your place is here, near Fiore. Now come here, I'll find something that you can wear." In a corner of the room, there was a trunk. Moor opened it and rummaged inside, then took out some clothes, which he handed to the boy, "These should fit you. Change your clothes, now." Gaetano nodded. Without feeling any shame (he did it so many times in front of his brothers or cousins) he took off his breeches and what remained of his shirt, remaining completely naked. Then he slipped on the breeches of rough gray cloth and the wide shirt made of the same cloth. Moor looked at him in silence and Gaetano didn't notice the attentive glances and the pleased light that appeared in the young man's eyes when he observed his nudity. "You'll see, you'll be fine here with us, if you'll carry on nicely all your ship boy duties... If you obey all of us..." Moor said, putting his hand on the boy's ass, and with a sneaky smile, pushed him towards the ladder and then went out. Gaetano at once started to work. The rule on board was simple -- there was a rigid hierarchy, everybody had to obey the Captain and his assistant, then came Fiore, then Corsican and then Moor. The ship boy was the last, so he had to obey everybody else "without any question." Corsican explained this to him and the boy nodded, convinced. And he had not a single moment to twiddle his thumbs, at least until the departure. "Boy, here!" "Boy, sweep the cabin!" "Boy, peal the potatoes!" "Boy..." But at last evening came, and besides the one at the rudder and the man on watch, the others could hit their berths in turns. Gaetano, when they said he could go to sleep, tired but happy, went under the deck and lay where Moor showed him. Corsican was already noisily snoring. Although he was tired, the boy was not able to fall asleep at once -- the ship's rolling, so unusual to him, the cracking of the structure and of the planking, the oil lamp's creating of odd shadows in perpetual movement, fascinated and frightened him at once. But the tiredness and the same rolling, gentle like the rolling of a cradle, finally made him close his eyes. It was the dead of night when the first shift ended. The assistant took the place of the man at the rudder and Corsican went on watch, so Fiore and Moor went down to sleep. And Gaetano woke up. The men were quite silent, but he felt an odd sensation that slowly penetrated his dreams and took him back to the reality. He opened his eyes and saw that Moor was lying near him, and put his arm around his waist, pulling him against his body. "What's up? It's time to get up?" the boy sleepily asked. "Shush, don't talk," Moor whispered, continuing to pull the boy against his body. "But... was this not Fiore's place?" "We swapped places. Now it's me to sleep here, with you," Moor answered with a lusty smile, placing his hand between the boy's legs and groping him. Gaetano had an instinctive jolt to escape him, but the young man was holding him firmly and continued to grope him. "What are you doing?" Gaetano asked, now completely awake, but still in a low voice. "The ship boy is on board also for this..." "This... what?" the boy asked, slightly troubled and embarrassed for that hand, which was giving him a hard-on. "Shut up, boy, and do anything I ask you to, understood?" Moor answered, continuing to finger him with one hand while with the other he untied his own breeches at the sides and lowered the front, so revealing his member, already fully erect. Gaetano looked between his legs, troubled but fascinated at the same time. Then he confusedly thought that it was probably going to be like when he did it with Silvio, and this would not be bad at all, so he calmed down. He stretched out his hand to hold that rod, thick, hot and hard, and started to manipulate it, looking at Moor's eyes, and saw in them approbation and a smile. Then he started to quietly masturbate the young man, and felt a diffused pleasure in handling that member of a respectable size. It was the first time he could see and touch the member of an adult, and he felt great. After a while, Moor guided him between his wide spread legs, made him crouch there and pushed his head down towards his stiff member. Gaetano raised his head and looked at him without understanding what the man wanted from him, therefore he asked in a whisper, "What... what do I have to do, now?" "Lick it. Suck it!" The boy looked at that flesh weapon aimed at him, and thought it was a weird request. The hand of the young man pushed the boy's head down furthermore and the hot member brushed his cheek. Gaetano then started to do what the man asked him to do. At first he though it was funny licking that hard and smooth flesh pole, but when he took it in his mouth, he had a good feeling. When he became aware that his attention was pleasing the man, he thought amusedly that Silvio didn't know this other way to give pleasure. "Don't make me feel your teeth, boy. Use your lips," Moor whispered and Gaetano complied. Guided by the young man's hands, which were holding his head, he found the right rhythm. He liked feeling that hot and hard rod slipping between his lips, against his tongue. After a while Moor pushed him away, opened the boy's breeches and pulled then off. Gaetano let him do it, and facilitated the man's effort -- he liked very much feeling the hands of the man on him, he felt shudders of pleasure all along his spine. The young man made him kneel and pushed his chest against the pallet. He knelt at his back and made his own breeches go down to his knees. He wet his finger with spit and started to prepare the boy. Gaetano didn't understand what the man was about to do, but waited in silence. The sailor continued to lube the boy's hole with his spit many times, each time pushing his finger a little deeper. It wasn't annoying, but it was a strange feeling, Gaetano thought. But he mainly couldn't understand what fun Moor could get from touching him in that way. When the sailor swapped his finger with something bigger and started to push with determined vigor, Gaetano felt pain and emitted a yell, but it was at once suffocated by the man's strong hand that firmly shut his mouth. Gaetano tried to wriggle away, but Moor was strong and determined, and the boy's movements only seemed to unwillingly help the powerful pushes of the sailor. At last, the man was firmly and totally embedded inside him. Then the young man started to move his pelvis in a slow back-and-forth motion, always holding the boy firmly so that he couldn't escape him, and keeping his mouth shut. Gaetano, as all his desperate attempts to oppose were useless, at last gave up fighting and abandoned himself, defeated, under the strong body that was pumping inside him mercilessly, and told himself that it was somewhat like what dogs did at times, mounting each other, even between two males. He never thought that two men could also do it. He completely surrendered. Moor became aware of that. So one of his hands went between the boy's legs, and while continuing to fuck him with unchanged vigor, he masturbated the boy. Gaetano noticed that now he was also starting to feel pleasure, mixed with pain, and the pleasure was increasing, increasing, increasing, until the boy burst out in a strong orgasm that vibrated all through his body. The sailor continued to fuck him for some minutes, until he also ejaculated, strongly pulling the inert body of the boy to himself. And all came to an end. Without a word, they tidied themselves, lay down, and at last they fell asleep. While he was falling asleep, Gaetano thought that after all, it was worth enduring the pain that this way of "making it pass" had brought, as it also brought him a very intense pleasure. And anyway, Moor had made it clear -- a ship boy was also on board for that purpose. ----------------------------- CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 2 ----------------------------- In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is http://andrejkoymasky.com If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English translations, so that I can put on-line more of my stories in English please e-mail at andrej@andrejkoymasky.com ---------------------------