Grapes of Italy by Remmy Meggs

For those of you that do not know my work, I grew up hearing stories from other boys about self-exploration and sexual partners with other boys and girls. I have not had any such experiences in Real Life as some of us call it. However, that does not mean I do not think about it and wish that things turned out different than they did.

IF the laws in your country make it illegal to or read fantasy stories about minors, or if you are under of age of eighteen or have someone in your presence under the age of eighteen, you must stop reading and leave this site immediately. Copyright 2012 Remmy Meggs I reserve all rights. This file cannot be upload to any site unless I have uploaded it myself.

Remmy Meggs

Grapes of Italy - Prologue 501 B.C. (Before Christ)

Lothario, at ten years old, did not pay attention to the lush fields of grain nor the multitudes of fruit trees surrounding the big house. He didn't think of his father as a great statesman, and so his father was, able to keep his family alive and property no matter what man proclaimed himself ruler. A ten year old does not think of such things.

Instead he rode his horse, watched the slaves work, and sometimes helped to squash grapes, more for fun then than actual work. He created things, and tried to listen to his tutors the best he could. He was hardly bored, but he was lonely when his father was too busy to pay attention.

Today was a special day. Leaders from several factions were coming together to meet with his father, which was boring for Lothario. He had to greet and kiss these men of power and most of the time he couldn't even remember their names. He called them all grandfather instead.  This made them feel good, and his father was pleased.

Then he would go play until it was time for his bath, and the banquet. The banquet could be quite fun. Sometimes the men brought their wives and sometimes several wives... or girlfriends, and many were not much older than Lothario himself. Italians were not known for their modesty, and the banquet in that respect could even be titillating for a ten year old. Usually however, soon after that part of the banquet would start, his mother or father would see him dosing off and take him to bed.

The following day they would have meetings and breakfast long before Lothario woke up. Then they would have more meetings until lunch and more meetings after that. Sometimes the visitors would go home, and sometimes they wouldn't and another banquet would take place. Never did they all go home, and that still meant a luxurious meal at the big table.

Sometimes one of the other aristocrats would bring a son or a daughter with them, but this was unusual, unless they were much older and learning the family business. Now and then however, someone his age would show up and he tried to make friends as soon as he could. These were friends his father allowed him to have, as long as they were watched by family members as they played.

Lothario watched the butterfly intently. He did not try and touch it. He watched it closely. Solely intent on its flight and movements the insect not once tried to get away from him. Lothario followed that butterfly from flower to flower while the slaves watched him as they worked.

So engrossed in what he was doing he did not hear his father come up behind him, "Lothario..."

The boy jumped out of his skin a foot in the air. He turned to his father, "You scared me!"

The man laughed, "Lothario I am sorry I frightened you, but you have been playing out here since breakfast. Our guests will be arriving soon, and you have not bathed yet. Remember the family has an obligation to welcome everyone."

The boy shrugged, "As you say father I will take my bath."

"Good." His father Nico grinned, as he smacked the boy's bare behind gently, "Be off with you. Be sure to use the scented oils your mother bought you."

Lothario kissed his father on the cheek and ran off, "I'll get even with you for scaring me!" The boy giggled.

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