Date: Thu, 07 Dec 2006 09:10:19 +0100
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: The Merchant of Venice 03/29 (historical)

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THE MERCHANT OF VENICE Or The Twenty-Four Nights of Lorenzo and Poletto
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006
written the 17th of June, 1991
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by John

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE MERCHANT OF VENICE" 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 3
SECOND NIGHT
The Captain's Cabin Boy

Lorenzo came into his room followed closely by Poletto, and he told him,
"I'm really tired tonight, Poletto. I really need a good night's sleep."

"Oh, my lord... you don't want me here, then, for tonight..."

"Are you disappointed?"

"Oh well, you are the master."

"But wait, tell me, are you more disappointed because you'd hoped to
hear the second story, or because you'd hoped to be in bed with me?"

"Both, my lord, both."

"But if you had to choose, which would you rather do, this evening?"

"I would like you to tell me a story, my lord."

"Ah, so then, you're more interested in my stories than in making love
with me!"

"But no, no. It's just that if we make love, then you'll be tired and
you'll only want to sleep. But if instead you told me a story then you'd
be excited and so you would make love to me."

Lorenzo burst out laughing and mussed the boy's hair. "You cunning
little thing, Polo! Alright then, I was joking before. Let's get
undressed and into bed, c'mon!"

The boy beamed and got undressed in a flash, then he helped the man to
free himself from the last of his clothes and together they got into the
great bed with the canopy.

"What will you tell me this evening, Sire?"

"I'll tell you about how I left Venice. I had just turned sixteen when
when these events occurred.

For three years my uncle took his satisfaction with me, and for two
years I also had some adventures. So, just the fact of meeting other men
that weren't just looking out for their own pleasure but who gave some
of it to me, made it unbearable for me to continue to submit to my
uncle's sexual pretentions.

Moreover, I was older now and I'd begun to think for myself and to feel
more independent. Also I was doing some odd jobs here and there and
earning a little money of my own. So it was, a bit at a time, that the
idea was born to change my life and to leave home. But deep down I
really didn't have the courage, because I had no idea where to go, and
especially what I could do to earn a living.

I remember it was a foggy day. Venice is particularly seductive when she
is wrapped in a light veil of mist. She seems like a queen covered by a
mantle of fine lace. Here and there emerge her beautiful churches and
palaces, like jewelry. Now and then, almost by magic, out of nothing
appears a boat or a barge. And the sounds too are muffled and cushioned,
and even the odors change when Venice is swathed in fog.

But on that day I wasn't really in the right mood to enjoy these things.
Indeed, I was in a somewhat foul mood. I had just argued with my uncle
and as a consequence, with my mother. Now I'll tell you how that went.

For a few days I'd avoided my uncle, but the day before my mother had
sent me to him to help him with some sort of work which now I can't
remember. I obeyed, even if somewhat grudgingly. As soon as I arrived,
as I'd expected, my uncle opened his trousers, and presented his tool,
expecting that I would do him the usual little service. But that time,
pretending indifference, I asked him, "What is it you command, uncle,
sir?"

"You know damn well what it is I want, pussy boy! Come here and start
doing what I need, I feel really hot, today."

"Go down to my mother's and see if she's willing to get you off, she's
not with a client now."

"You suck it better that she. C'mon, move it!"

"No, that's enough. I've had it being your slave. Go fuck yourself and
your damned cock!" I replied, turning to leave.

But with one jump he came next to me and forcefully grabbed me by the
arm. "You're going to suck it for me now!" he howled.

"Not now, not later, not tomorrow, not ever! I've had it with this whole
scene."

"Mind that if you don't obey, I'll tell your mother that you're queer!
You think I don't know that you go with men? I've spied on you, I've
seen everything: you really are a faggot!"

"Go ahead and tell my mother, you're just as much of a faggot. Then I'll
tell her that you turned me into one." I replied briskly, and freeing
myself from his grasp, I went out and walked around the city to cool
down.

When I returned home my mother greeted me coldly. "What's this all
about, Lorenzo! Your uncle has told me about the things that..."

"Did he tell you that I'm queer? He's the faggot. It's been three years
that he's been having me suck it for him, but I'm through with it."

"Don't tell stories! Your uncle couldn't be a faggot, I can guarantee
it! Rather than slandering honest people, explain to me what this is all
about. Your uncle says that you let men fuck you in the ass."

"I've just now explained it to you. You can believe who you want."

"Your uncle told me only that you're an idler, that you're lazy and
don't want to do anything. He said that you told him not to tell me, and
that you'd come up with this kind of story. I'm not stupid, you know. If
there's a faggot in this house, it's certainly not your uncle, I can
guarantee you that!"

"Oh well, look who's talking, you who gives it away to whoever. You're
really not the one to be talking about morals."

"But at least I do it in a natural way, and what's more I earn a living
and enough to support you. Why did this happen to me, what have I done
to deserve a son who's a degenerate?"

I understood that it would be useless to insist, so I stormed out of the
house screaming, "The whore, here's what you've done!"

I spent the night at the home of one of the men who I had met on the
street and I made love with him. The next morning I was still in a dark
mood as I wandered about aimlessly throughout the city, just to kill
time and trying to decide what to do. I didn't want to go back home, I
knew my mother well enough to know that she would hound me about being
homosexual.

It was around noon and I was seated on a pier of the greater port with
my feet dangling over the edge, watching the fog roll in. It was so
thick that almost nothing was visible - just an uniform pearly gleam. I
was still in a foul mood but I was glad I'd broken it off with with that
man who for years I had called uncle.

"This fog is so thick, you could cut it with a knife, couldn't you?"
spoke a deep, resonant voice suddenly nearby. Thinking myself alone I
jumped to my feet and looked around me, but the fog had grown so dense,
that I wasn't able to see anyone. Then, like an apparition, a figure
materialized next to me, emerging from the fog. He was a large man, not
fat, but with broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs. His torso
tapered to a narrow waist. He was dressed in a strange manner, but
unmistakably that of a sailor. He had a large gold ring in his right
ear.

"How could you know I was here? This fog has made me nearly invisible.
It's so thick that I didn't even see you until you were next to me." I
said with an amazed and slightly trembling voice brought on by the fear
that his unforeseen presence had aroused in me.

The man grinned broadly. "I saw you arrive when the fog was just coming
in. I was aboard my boat, which is anchored nearby. I watched you for a
while then, when the fog grew denser, I didn't see you anymore. If you'd
gone, you would have had to pass by my boat and I would have seen you,
so I was sure that you were still here. I thought perhaps that you
wouldn't mind a bit of company, someone to chat with. I could see that
you're sad, sometimes it helps to confide in strangers. You can tell
things to strangers that you can't say to people that you know well."

His voice was deep and powerful, yet at the same time, kind and gentle
with a slight foreign accent, although  he spoke fluent Venetian. Even
the lines of his face showed a mix difficult to identify, at the same
time familiar yet foreign.

"You're not Venetian, are you?" "No e sė. Mio padre era un marinaio
veneziano, ma era figlio di uno schiavone e di una donna turca. Mia
madre era della Marca di Ancona, ma era figlia di un romano e di una
spagnola... cosė non so neppure io che cosa sono..." "Yes and no. My
father was a Venetian sailor, but he was the son of a Slav and a Turkish
woman. My mother was from Ancona's March, but she was the daughter of a
Roman and a Spaniard... so even I don't know what I am."

"Where do you live?"

"On my boat, and I travel throughout the Mediterranean, although mostly
around the waters of Venice. And you, boy, what about you.?"

"I'm Venetian, son of a Venetian woman and half of Venice."

The man laughed out loud, "How do you mean half of Venice?"

"My mother is a whore, so who knows who my father is. One of her many
clients, I suppose. Anyway, I'm sick and tired of being with her. So,
that boat is really yours?"

"Yes, I am the owner and the captian."

"Would you give me a job on board? I really want to get away from here."

"If you come on board we can talk about. It's getting cold here, in my
cabin we'll be much more comfortable and warm and if you want you can
keep me company and we can drink a mug or two of wine."

I nodded and then the man took me by an arm and guided me toward his
boat, across the unsteady gangplank and to his cabin. I wondered how he
managaed to find the way. That fog had grown so thick that I could
hardly see where to set my foot, but his strong hold gave me a sense of
safety.

His cabin was made entirely of wood, naturally, with a comfortable bunk
to one side. In the center of the cabin there was a table fixed to the
floor, with many charts and maps spread out in disarray. There were
three stools, weapons were on the wall, closed doors revealed the
presence of of an armoire, a locked chest and nothing else.

He pushed a stool toward me and from a cupboard took out two flasks.
"Perhaps it best that you drink only wine. You're still a boy." He told
me offering one of the flasks. Imitating him I opened it and I took a
few gulps. The wine was slightly sour, a bit resinous, and probably of
Greek origin.

The man sat down next to me. "My name is Michele Kurick. What's your
name and how old are you?"

"My name is Lorenzo Zorzi, and I'm sixteen years old."

"Nice name Lorenzo, and you carry your years very well. I would have
thought you a couple of years older. You have a well developed body for
a boy your age."

For a moment neither of us spoke, we looked each other in the face,
studying each other closely. I was fascinated by the color of his eyes,
mettalic grey, but not cold. They gave off a warmth that was truly
pleasant. Then he broke that odd silence and told me, smiling, "So, you
want to work on my boat, you said?"

"Yes, I want to get away from here."

"Have you ever worked on a boat?"

"No, never. But to get away from here, I'd be prepared to do any kind of
work... any kind."

"I don't need any sailors, I have a full crew. But I wouldn't mind
having you along with me. You know these voyages can be long and
sometimes a bit of company would be very pleasant. You're really a nice,
good looking boy, and as I was watching back there on the wharf, I
thought that I'd really like to meet you, and to get to know you
better."

Then, suddenly, I saw that light in his eyes and I understood what he
meant by getting to know me better. He wasn't a bad looking man, on the
contrary, I was attracted to him. I wondered how he would look naked. So
I told him, "I'd really be willing to do anything. Why don't you put me
to the test right away?

The man looked at me and nodded, the he told me seriously, "People often
say that they are willing to do anything, but then at the momento of
truth, they back away."

"Try me, then. That way you can know right away what my limits are."

"Do you know what you're saying, boy?"

"Yes, of course."

Then the man stood up, he took the flask of wine out of my hand and
placed it on the table. He went to the door and locked with the padlock,
then he said, "Well then, boy, get undressed, I want to take a look at
you."

I stood up and undressed completely in front of him. Michele never took
his eyes off of me and as I slowly undressed he observed me attentively,
until his gaze stopped between my legs.

"You're really well put together, my boy, I like you."

"And every thing works just as it should too." I said with a malicious
little grin.

He drew near to me and touched me on the chest and on my sides, then he
began to undress slowly. His body was like a bundle of muscles,
beautifully defined, different from the gentlemen and middle class men
with whom I'd kept company before. When he removed his trousers, I saw
that the mighty muscle between his legs was already half raised. As soon
as he was naked, he grabbed me by my sides and pushed me onto his bunk.
He got on top of me covering the full length of my body with his own
powerful form. The contact with his warm strong flesh made me shiver
with emotion. It was like being enveloped in a flickering flame.

My hands settled on his back and I was surprised to find that his skin
was smooth as silk satin, soft as velvet even though it covered strong,
firm muscles that rippled with his every move. He weighed down on me and
his hands caressed my flanks and I felt his excitement growing quickly
against me.

"Ah, boy, from the first moment I saw you, I've wanted you here in my
bunk. You've made love with men before, true?"

"Yes, of course..."

"Well, you'll see that with me it'll be different. I'll make you go
crazy with pleasure, until you'll be pleading with me to let you give
pleasure to me. With me you'll discover what it truly is to have sex
with a man, with a real man. Let me do it. For now relax and learn,
boy."

I could not have asked for more. That man was impassioned, strong,
potent, and loaded with sensuality in an incredible way. Just the sound
of his voice was enough to make me tremble with excitement.

Furthermore, he had a stake that was quite simply fabulous. It was as
long as a handspan, and so thick that I was unable to encircle it
between my thumb and forefinger closed in a ring. It was perfectly
straight, sleek and well-shaped. The tip was barely covered by foreskin
and it peeked out brightly from the rest of his dark member. Below, his
swollen and hairless balls swung pendulously. And everything emerged
from a dense thicket of curly dark hair.

When it was erect, it was perfectly perpendicular to his body and it was
motionless, hard as marble, hot and barely quivering. Just seeing it
gave me a great urge to touch it, to kiss it, to lick it greedily, to
suck it and to feel it throbbing between my lips. It was truly a living
work of art! Michele knew how to use it like a true artist, as he knew
how to use every other part of his body, from his lips to his hands, to
his tongue, and his arms, and his legs... everything.

In short, I fell prey to an intense pleasure. Then he placed his hand on
my tool, taking possesion of it, and his with his fingertips he
titillated it to the limits of my endurance. Then grabbing it fully in
his hand he began to pump it up and down, slowly at first, then, as he
felt my excitement growing, faster and with a methodical rhythm, until
he brought me to the boiling point and I spewed out in a frenzy of moans
and contractions.

But he didn't stop. He continued to squeeze it forcefully, then with his
tongue he began licking it, bathing the pulsing head with his warm
saliva, making me feel on fire, bringing me to a stage of sensibility
I'd never experienced. Now all of my body was taut with spasms and
arched seeking relief, arched raising its center, almost as in a silent
offering.

When he heard me groan, once again yielding to that intense pleasure,
and when he ascertained that I had lost all control, he took it all into
his hot, moist mouth. Removing his hand he sucked furiously, moving his
head up and down rapidly, each time pressing his face against my groin.
His hands freed, he roughly squeezed my nipples, until again I surged
and released a second heavy wave of cum which Michele drank completely
and with obvious pleasure.

"Do you like that, Lorenzo? Do you like what I can do to you with my
mouth? Beautiful, wasn't it? But I'm not finished yet. I have even
better things in store for you. We're not in a hurry, are we? I'll bring
you to the point of pure ecstasy, believe me, and then it'll be your
turn to do the same things to my body and for my pleasure. You can do
whatever you feel like then, but not yet..."

His voice took on a commanding tone, yet one of extreme sweetness, it
was hoarse with passion, with lustfulness, but strangely restrained.

There wasn't a part of my body that he didn't explore; that he didn't
use. His care, full of experience, was totally aimed to raise me up to
the highest peaks of pleasure, of the senses, and of sex.

I felt his body envelop me, scorching as the summer sun; above me,
beside me, below, inside, all around me. My tool was almost aching but
showed no sign of growing soft, indeed, I couldn't remember it ever
being so hard, despite having already experienced two resounding
orgasms.

Then he spread my legs and began to lick between my balls and my ass.
His tongue lingered on the rim of my small asshole and he worked it for
a long time, making me slick, probing me, provoking it, penetrating it,
until I could feel my hole palpitate and dilate in expectation. I cried
out to him to take me, to make me his. Then, finally he positioned his
fierce lance, and plunged it inside, spreading me, invading me,
conquering me with one slow relentless thrust, until his balls were
pressed tightly between my ass and his powerful thighs.

He began to pound in and out with his powerful club, sometimes with such
force that I shook violently, other times with such delicacy that I
melted from the pleasure. He made me feel like I was completely in his
power. In a gasp of intense pleasure, I pleaded with him to continue to
fill me, to go on with that sweet violence, that relentless gift. Then,
I felt his semen inundate me, and as he grasped me tightly, he unloaded
deep inside me with the last powerful blows from his strong loins.

Then finally it fell to me to return at least some of the pleasure that
he had so generously given me. For everything that he had done, I
reciprocated in every way and in doing so I experienced a pleasure at
once sweet and savage. Touching him, licking him, caressing, kissing and
nibbling every part of him, I felt that now, he was mine.

I felt exhilarated when finally I had his thick, throbbing member in my
mouth. It still had the flavor of cum from his first abundant explosion,
and finally I was besotted with a river that seemed never to cease
gushing in mighty surges. In the end I was outside myself with pleasure
feeling my own tool deep inside his boiling flesh, encircled and
imprisoned by his eager hole, dancing inside with wild joy. When I
unloaded inside him, I collapsed again exhausted on his bunk, completely
worn out and happy.

"Is that enough, Lorenzo?" he asked, in his voice deep, resonant voice.

"No, but I'm completely exhausted, I don't have a ounce of strength left
in me. You've drained me. You know, it's the first time I've ever come
three times in a row."

"But it won't be the last, my boy. It'll be like that every time, as
long as you stay aboard this ship. I like you, boy, you're young, fresh
and hotter than a stallion in heat."

"You'll take me with you, then?"

"Of course. None of my sailors, none of my cabin boys have ever known
how to satisfy me as well as you do."

"But I've never been a sailor, nor a cabin boy."

"And you won't be either. Your only work on board will be to make love
with me."

"It will be rather hard work, captain, but it will be wonderful!" I
exclaimed laughing, and he laughed with me, as we embraced and kissed
firmly.

And so began my voyage at sea. I stayed aboard the ship for nearly eight
months, and they were truly marvelous months, but in the end I had to
ask him to let me go. I stayed ashore because I was completely
exhausted, while he was always filled with the desire to make love. He
was just like a bull in heat, truly indefatigable. On certain days when
the sea was calm, he came to make love with me three or four times a day
and each time he made me come many times. Nevertheless, despite eating
well and never having to do a bit of work other than keeping the cabin
tidy, I soon felt so weak that often I wouldn't even get out of bed at
all."

Poletto sighed.

Lorenzo asked him, "What is it, boy, why do you sigh?"

"Because I really liked this second story of yours, and I envy you
having known a man like your captain. I wish that I could feel so weak
just from coming so much that I couldn't get out of bed."

"No, Poletto, believe me, too much is really too much. But sometime, if
you really want, the two of us can do it three or four times in a row.
Even tonight I feel full of desire, don't you?"

"Oh yes, me too. As you were telling your story, I had the urge to do
all of those things you described. Look, I'm still very excited. See..."

Lorenzo pulled back the coverlet and looked at the boy. "Yes, you're so
beautiful when you're excited like that. You'll make me die of desire.
Prepare yourself, my Poletto, for now I will make you come until you
plead with me to stop so that you won't die from the pleasure. Leave it
all to me, my beautiful little man."

"Yes, I'm all yours, but then I will do to you all the things you do
with me, just like you did with your captain."

"Agreed, but only this time, alright?" Lorenzo said. He mounted the boy
and they began their lovemaking.

When the pearl colored dawn illuminated the sky behind the windows of
palazzo Zorzi, the two were still entangled in their exhausting marathon
of sex. Poletto squirted his cum for the fourth time and moaned, "Now,
that's enough, for mercy's sake. It's really too beautiful, my lord,
you're killing me."

"But I still desire you, you know?"

"Yes, me too. I desire you as well, sire, but if I don't rest a bit, I
feel I will lose my senses. If you want to put it into me again, go
ahead and do it, master, but I'm no longer able even to lift and arm to
caress you. I didn't know that one could get so intoxicated just from
having sex!"

"It still hurts when I fuck you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I'll get used to it soon, just as you said I would, and I
don't want you to be displeased with me."

"No, let's stop here for now. And I'm not displeased with you, not at
all. Come, let me embrace you, I want to fall asleep like this."

"I'm here, my lord. It's wonderful to sleep between your arms, warm
myself with your heat, and inhale your odor."

"My odor? What is it like?"

"A good manly odor, my lord, a marvelous virile odor that's enough to
make me dizzy"

Poletto settled into his place between his master's arms and legs.
Lorenzo drew him in against his chest, and soon both of them were
immersed in a deep restorative sleep.

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 4

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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, 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

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