Date: Sun, 26 Feb 2006 20:01:34 +0100
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: Gold, Incense and Myrrh 5/9 (m+m - Adult Friends)

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

GOLD, INCENSE and MYRRH
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2005
written the 21st of February, 1994
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by Brian

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

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"GOLD, INCENSE and MYRRH" 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 5 - ... and Myrrh

Roger Mapula was almost forty and was still a handsome man. He was a
highly rated doctor and, notwithstanding he was an African and as black
as pitch, he had many clients, mainly rich ones. He couldn't say there
was racism towards him, and yet, even though he studied in Italy and
remained there after he graduated, he felt he was not totally accepted.
But this was no burden to him - he was not resigned, he simply accepted
this fact without making a problem of it. That was his life...

While he was studying at university, he thought he would go back to his
land, after the graduation. But in those years he fell in love with a
faculty mate, a certain Mario, and so decided to remain in Italy, not to
be separated from him. They lived together for four more years after
their graduation, but then Mario deserted him, for another man. He felt
really bad and for a moment he thought to go back to his country, but at
this point he already had a good clientele, a beautiful home... so he
remained. After Mario he never again had a steady relationship, he never
again fell in love, but he had several adventures. He was aware that
what attracted the Italian males to him was mainly the myth that black
people "are really hung". A myth that he certainly didn't believe,
although he was well endowed, but he was aware that they were not really
interested in him as a person, but only in the remarkable size of his
virile attributes. He accepted this, also with a kind of amused
fatalism. What could he do, anyway?

>From time to time he went to a gay disco and almost every time he went
back home with a man he picked up longing to taste his fabulous
forbidden fruit. He was usually spoiled for choice.

On the evening of January 4th he went as usual to dance looking for a
partner - who knows sooner or later he would find somebody able to give
him love and not just sex? As usual several people started to hang
around him, some very handsome but, unlike normal, he didn't feel like
encouraging any of them. He didn't know what was up but as they made a
move towards something else he let them go. And yet he was feeling an
urge, if not for them, for some sex! He possibly was not in the right
mood, he thought. He decided it would be better to stop cruising and go
back home. So, around midnight, he was ready to leave. He drove at speed
along the boulevard leading to his home. He was feeling a great yen to
reach his bed.

Massimo, parting from Rocco, pedaled for a while. Then he stopped and
looked back. The policeman was not in sight. From time to time cars past
by at speed. Yes, he thought, this would be a sure and fast death. Be
run over and die the same way as his Diego. He would wait for a big car
coming fast, at the last moment he would jump out from the shadow and
would throw himself under it. He didn't think about the driver, about
the shock he could provoke in him, he only cared about his desire to
finally die.

Roger was driving fast along the desert boulevard. He slowed down a
little for the bends, then sped up again on the straight stretch, as he
saw in front of him a long set of green lights. He wanted to reach his
home quickly, take a hot shower and go to sleep.

Suddenly, from behind one of the boulevard trees, jumped a silhouette
that threw itself in front of his car. He hit the brakes hard, skidding,
tried to resume control of his car, did all he could not to hit the
fool, understanding that the person threw himself under the car on
purpose - it was a suicide attempt. He was sure of that.

The car, veering on the asphalt, caught the figure with a glancing blow,
and the silhouette was pushed aside and crumpled to the ground. The car
stopped, its engine racing. Roger got out hastily crossing to the figure
still on the road. He seemed untouched. He felt for a pulse - it was
steady. He was just unconscious. The body was young and handsome. Why
did he want to die? He checked with expert hands the body - apparently
there was nothing broken. Then he lifted him without difficulty and laid
him on the back seat of his car. He threw a glance to the headlight - it
was just cracked and the light was off. He sat in his seat and drove to
the clinic where he worked. Here he took a set of x-rays of the boy, to
be certain that there were no internal injuries. Then he decided to take
the boy to his home. He didn't know why; it would have been more logical
to leave him in the clinic. But something inside him pushed him to wait
for the boy to recover his senses in his home.

Massimo came to about half an hour later. When he opened his eyes saw
the black and smiling face of Roger who was telling him, "You were
unlucky, boy."

Massimo murmured with an amazed and tired tone, "I'm still alive..."

"I'm a good driver and have a good car. You have nothing broken. Do you
feel like standing up?"

Massimo swung his legs from the bed and, helped by Roger, stood up. He
looked around.

"I'm a doctor. And this is the clinic where I work. Now you'll come to
my home and remain under observation for at least twenty-four hours.
Lean on me."

"I don't need to." Massimo answered with a dark face, without even
trying to discuss the other's decision.

Roger led him to his car, made him sit in the passenger seat and drove
to his house. He showed him to his living room and made him sit in an
armchair. He fixed him a whisky.

"Drink this, it will help you. Your name is Massimo, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"I saw it on your ID papers. Well, Massimo, I don't know why you wanted
to kill yourself, but are you aware that if you succeeded you'd have
made me guilty of a negligent homicide? Don't you think it absurd to
involve an honest man in your problems this way?"

"I didn't think of that."

"Sure, you only thought to die, I understand, but... Happily, at least
for me, you didn't succeed. But at twenty-four years you should be more
responsible. Sure, if you don't give a shit about your life, how can you
care about me, or another? Well, anyway, here we are, now. My name is
Roger." He quietly added.

Massimo made an embarrassed gesture. They drank their whisky.

Roger was studying Massimo's face. He liked that boy enough and in
normal conditions he would have willingly fucked with him. But he
thought that the boy, even if he was game, was not in the right mood to
have sex.

"Now it will be better you hit the sack."

"I'd rather go, I feel okay."

"No, I have to keep you under observation for twenty-four hours before
letting you go."

"What for? Anyway later I..."

"Later you will do what the fuck you like, I can't stop you. But as you
involved me, you now have to let me do this my way - I want only be sure
that if you die, it will not be because I ran over you. And anyway it
was not me who entered into your life, but you who threw yourself into
mine. I will not let you go until I'm sure I didn't cause permanent
damage to you body. Therefore you now go to the guestroom and use the
bed. My room is near yours, if you feel any pain you'll call me."

Massimo looked at him with a weird expression, then said, "Don't you
want to fuck me? Isn't that why you brought me here?"

Roger looked at him taken aback, then asked, "Why's that. Are you gay,
by chance?"

"Yes, I am."

"Yes I am, you say... It is not written on your face, and neither in
your ID, is it?"

"Bah, I just thought..."

"And why did you get this idea? Is it written on my face that I'm gay?"

"No, forget it."

"Oh no, you now made me curious - explain to me why you asked if I
wanted to fuck you!"

"I didn't ask anything of the sort. It is just that this was my third
attempt to kill myself, and on the first two I was rescued by two gay
men, who hoped to have sex with me. Thus..."

"I see, well everything comes in threes so they say. It seems that the
gay world united to stop you from committing suicide. Possibly because
you are way too handsome to allow to end it that way..." Roger said with
some irony, then seriously added, "Anyway I don't think it wise for you
to have sex, tonight. Therefore you'll sleep in your bed and I in mine.
Then... we will see. In fact I like you a lot, boy."

"But then... you too are gay?"

"It seems so. But don't worry, I'll not touch you. Scram to your bed,
now!"

The following morning Roger woke up and, in his pajamas, looked in on
Massimo. He was still sleeping. "Certainly," he thought, "he is really a
handsome boy, this one! And he is gay. Life is odd at times, He wants to
kill himself, but he worries about fucking. They say that love and death
are brothers..."

He gently woke up his young guest, "Did you have a decent night?"

"I slept."

"Very good. If you want to stand up, I'll show you the bathroom, While I
fix some breakfast you can have a shower, if you like. At least you can
die clean... Come."

Massimo got off the bed. He was wearing only his briefs and tank top.
Roger looked at him with desire but without uttering a word and led him
to the bathroom.

"When you are done, come to the kitchen so we can have breakfast." He
said handing him one of his gowns and leaving him.

After a while Massimo peeped round the kitchen door.

"Come in, have a seat, it'll be ready in a moment." Roger said with a
smile.

Massimo sat. Roger noticed that under the silk gown he didn't wear his
tank top and asked himself if he wore his briefs or not, and a light
excitation seized him. He served the breakfast. While eating he asked
Massimo to explain to him, if he felt like, why he decided to put an end
to his life. The boy tiredly nodded yes.

"It seems that these days I just have to tell everybody... Anyway..." he
said and started again to tell his story.

Roger listened carefully but impassive. When at last he spoke, his
reaction was totally unexpected by Massimo.

"God, that's life. What did you think? That life spared you all its
suffering? It gave you your share of happiness, of wealth, now it is
giving you your share of pain. What kind of man are you if you are not
able to accept the pain? Do you think to escape it with your death, how
valiant! Are you such a weakling? Such a coward? Do you run away? What a
good boy!"

"But what meaning could life have now, for me, without Diego?"

"You lived for something like nineteen years without him. And now you
say there is no meaning in living without him. Are you not aware how
absurd that is? Sure, his death gives you suffering. You accepted the
joy you had with him, why can't you now accept the suffering?"

"With him I would accept any suffering. But not by myself."

"Bah, who knows? Possibly if you met pain with him you'd have run away
all the same, deserting him. If you don't have strength inside yourself,
you can't find it in another. The other can help you, sure, but he can't
give you what you don't have. Life is full of opposites, don't you know?
Loneliness and company, division and union, joy and sadness, pleasure
and pain, sweetness and sorrow... You can't accept only half of all
that. Life and death. You can't have a choice. I know that well, as a
doctor living amidst that suffering."

"But pain, it is natural to try to avoid it, isn't it?"

"Sure. The duty of a doctor is also trying to eliminate pain or at least
to lessen it. But first of all one has to accept it and only then can
one control it. One who is not able to accept the pain, can fill himself
with pain killers or he wants to die. Be it a physical or a
psychological pain, it doesn't change. It is pain that makes a man
strong, that makes of him a real human being. What are you? Why do you
run away from pain, from suffering?"

"It is too huge, too strong."

"No, each of us feels only the pain he is able to cope with or to stand.
No more or less. You can control your suffering, if not overcome it.
This can only begin when it's accepted."

"And why should I accept it?"

"For the same reason why you earlier accepted happiness - simply because
it is part of life."

"But when pain is unbearable?"

"The more you cultivate it inside yourself, the more you fear it. The
more you think of it, the more it seems to grow. But it is just your
impression, or rather, it is you that made it grow bigger inside you,
you feed it. It is like when you have a headache or tooth ache - the
more you think about it, the more it seems to increase; the less you
think about it, the more it becomes bearable."

"But at least there are drugs for the headache."

"Yes, sure. But even the drugs have little effect if one is scared by
the pain. Do you see these resin grains? It is myrrh. In my country it
is used as a medicament to lessen pain. But our old men say that it had
effect only when you accepted to suffer. Here, take some of them, it's
my present."

"How is it used?"

"It doesn't matter at all. Just keep it with you, and remember that pain
is part of life. If you renounce life, only to get rid of pain... how do
you Italians say? 'You throw away the baby with the dirty water.' It's
absurd, isn't it? Completely absurd."

Massimo took the myrrh grains and put them in front of himself,
thoughtfully. Roger was looking at him, keeping silent. Massimo a little
while later, stood up and went to the guestroom, took the small golden
box and put them in it together with the incense. He closed it and put
it back in his heavy jacket pocket. Then he went back to the kitchen.
Roger was washing the cups. Massimo sat down.

"But I promised Diego I would belong to him forever and now he is dead.
Therefore I want to belong to him also in death."

"What bullshit! You can belong to him as long as you are alive. But more
than that, he is still alive as long as you are. Do you want to kill him
once more?"

"What? I don't understand."

"Sure, because you are now thinking just of your pain and you think it
so much that it blurs your mind. You are so stupid!" Roger said
self-assuredly, but looking at him with gentleness.

"But physical pain is more easy to accept." Massimo objected.

"You say so only because now you are not feeling it. At times physical
pain can be so strong that one feels like he is going crazy. And yet,
there are people with this pain who love life."

"Why? Are they masochistic?"

"No. They have hope but above all they care about others more than about
their own pain, more than themselves."

"Others? Others, who? I have nobody else."

"Before knowing him, your Diego, wasn't he also just 'another'? But he
was already there waiting for you, even if neither he nor you knew that.
And if you didn't exist, he couldn't have known the happiness you gave
him. Each one of us is indispensable to the others, even if he is not
aware of that. And for sure, somewhere, right now, there is some other
'Diego' waiting just for you."

"But possibly I will never find him."

"On the contrary he could be just around the corner but if you don't
look you will never know."

"One needs a strength that I don't have."

"That's not true. You have this strength, just it is now covered up by
your pain, so you can't feel it. You have to allow your pain to leave
you, to subside, and your strength will come out. Free yourself from
your sorrow. But to get rid of it, you have first to accept it." Roger,
who was standing near Massimo's chair, said. Then he started to caress
his hair.

Massimo leaned his head on his arms and said in a whisper, "I feel so
tired, so terribly tired."

"Sure, that's natural. Nothing tires as much as sorrow. Let yourself go,
take a rest from it. So you can resume your life."

"My life? What life?" Massimo asked in a weak voice.

Roger suddenly took him in his arms, raised him and transported him to
his bed. He deposited him there.

"What do you want, from me?" Massimo asked trembling.

"To screw your ass. And I'll give you pain, my tool is rather big."

"Let me go, I beg you."

"No."

"I don't want sex."

"And why? If you want to die, it means that you don't give a shit for
your body, do you? But I like it, I want it." He said determinedly
opening Massimo's gown, and lying on top of him with his massive body.

Massimo tried to struggle, but Roger took him with his wide, strong
hands, bent him under himself putting him in position.

"No, leave me alone" Massimo protested.

"Let me screw your ass, come on!" Roger said with a low hoarse voice,
becoming more and more aroused.

"No, no!" the youth screamed wriggling.

"Later, if you want, you can go and kill yourself. But now I want to
enjoy your body."

"Let me go!" Massimo screamed trying with all his strength to push the
man away, but it was useless. Roger was holding him fast.

Massimo's body folded in two trembling, Roger, quivering, prepared
himself to take him, the youth held his breath, Roger pushed.

"No!" Massimo moaned, shivering.

Roger gathered his strength, becoming still for a moment, then with a
big stroke, sank inside him. Massimo felt a piercing pain, as if it was
tearing him apart inside, but didn't offer the slightest resistance any
more to that sudden and determined invasion. Roger sank completely
inside him with that one powerful thrust. Massimo, his eyes tightly
shut, emitted a strained, long moan of pain, like that of a deadly
wounded animal.

"Let me up, I beg you!" He beseeched with a broken voice, trying to hold
back the tears that were pushing to come out.

Roger, holding him fast, started to hammer inside him with a rapid
rhythm, and with each thrust Massimo's body jolted on the bed.

"Oh no, enough, enough!" the youth moaned at each thrust.

Roger continued with vigor to take the youth, Massimo could feel the
man's muscles darting at each penetration, he could feel the pleasure
that the other was drawing from his body against his will, and this
added pain to his pain that was becoming stronger and stronger. This was
upsetting him, but he could not escape that violence, so he accepted it,
almost resigned. Massimo abandoned himself completely to that painful
penetration, moaning softly like a wounded animal. And the pain seemed
to slowly fade away. Roger was continuing with unchanged energy and
pleasure, in a sustained and regular rhythm, with force full of
determination. It seemed as if the man's orgasm would explode from one
moment to the next, and yet it still didn't happen.

The two bodies were covered with small sweat droplets shining at each
darting of Roger's muscles, tireless in his forceful ride. Finally a
shudder started to pervade the dark body of the man, strengthened,
seemed to multiply. His strokes became harder and Roger started to blow
from his nostrils, in rhythm with the frantic strokes, and finally he
reached the top of pleasure, deeply embedded inside Massimo.

"Why did you do it?" Massimo asked without moving.

"Why didn't you want it?" the man asked as an answer.

"You raped me."

"I simply took you before you threw yourself away."

"Because you are stronger than me. I could report you."

"What do you care, if you want to die anyway?"

"But I'm not dead yet."

"That's it!" the man said triumphantly, leaving the bed and tidying his
gown on his powerful black body.

Massimo remained inert on the bed, still, his eyes closed. He felt
completely drained of energy. After all, it was true, he didn't care not
even about the rape he'd just undergone. Roger became aware that the boy
was gradually slipping into sleep. Only when he saw he was sleeping
deeply, he covered Massimo with a soft quilt and dressed himself.

Massimo slept for a long while. From time to time Roger went to check on
him, careful not to wake him. He looked at his slightly contorted face
through which appeared an expression of pain, more spiritual than
physical, of a deep intensity. Roger thought that, compared with the
expressionless face the youth had when he met him, this surfacing of
emotions and feelings could represent a step forward. He would have been
able to do something for that boy, to take him out of his lucid
desperation. Notwithstanding he forced him into that violent sex, he was
feeling for him a kind of protective tenderness, but he knew that it was
Massimo who had to react, he knew that nobody could do anything for him
at present. He had sex with him, thinking that the youth needed that
violent physical contact, so he gave it to him, even with some pleasure.
But he was not deceiving himself that the sex, however intense it could
have been, could really help the boy. But perhaps the long sleep could
be useful. Therefore he didn't want to wake him up.

Massimo woke up in the evening. He was aching and his mind was blurred.
He recalled the violent penetration he had to undergo. He could never
believe he could receive inside himself such a thick cock without
problems. That memory made him feel odd and for a moment he desired that
Roger was still there, on top of him. He was about to call him, when the
memory of Diego stopped him. He left the bed and silently dressed. A
mild persistent headache was plaguing him and his back was aching at
each movement he made. He went into the living room and saw that Roger
was reading. The man felt him arrive, greeted him with a nod.

"You slept a good while. You must be hungry. I'll warm you something, it
is all ready. I already ate but didn't want to disturb you.

"Yes, alright, I'll eat a little." Massimo answered.

He followed Roger into the kitchen. The man served him a light but
nourishing meal.

Then while he was clearing the table, he said, "Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"What would you do, now?"

"I don't know."

"The twenty four hours are almost over, I can see you have no
consequences from the accident."

"Yes. I would like to go, now. If you would just accompany me to
where... where we met..."

"Why there?"

"My bicycle is there. I want to fetch it."

"Alright, I'll take you there. And then, what will you do?"

"I still don't know."

"Do you have a place?"

"No, I will look for an hotel, I think."

"Do you need money?"

"No." Massimo answered.

"Finding a hotel at this time, could be difficult. Why don't you stay
here, tonight? There is room, as you know."

"No, I'd rather go."

"As you want." Roger answered.

He accompanied him back to the place he had run Massimo over.

"Here" Massimo pointed at his bicycle and Roger stopped nearby.

"Well, Massimo, ciao."

"Ciao."

"This is my card. If you want to meet me again..."

Massimo got out of the car. He bent to say good bye to the black doctor,
who smiled at him and started the engine. Massimo went to his bicycle.
He roamed mindlessly, until he noticed he was near the Central Station.
He stopped, put the lock on his bicycle and went inside. He could sleep
there, for the night. Then he would decide. But tomorrow, today he was
too tired.

In the main hall there was a large Nativity Crib. He stopped for a
moment to look at it. The statues were almost life size. In front of the
hut there were the three kings. At first he looked at them without any
particular care, but suddenly something clicked inside him. It was like
a flash of lighting, like a veil tearing apart. As if the wind dispersed
a thick smoke curtain and he recognized the three kings statues.

They were a young Arab king, a white king and a black king. The Arab had
in his hands a golden casket, the white one an incense burner and the
black one a jug of myrrh. The date was the 6th of January, the Epiphany
day, the day of the Three Kings. And he'd met them, and he received the
three gifts - he had them in his pocket.

He felt his head whirling. As in a trance, he went out of the station,
took his bicycle and started to walk, feeling completely dazed.

He walked for a long while, without noticing where he was going. The
night was not too cold and anyway he didn't feel the cold or tiredness,
now. The pain from the forced penetration that Roger made him undergo
was still sharp. And he thought that his pain had been sharper while he
tried to resist, but that lessened when he accepted it - exactly how
Roger said and repeated to him...

He walked trying to put his thoughts in order, his feelings, his
emotions, but he felt he couldn't - all was an inextricable tangle.
Memories, images, thoughts were mixing inside him in a chaotic way.

He became aware he was now in a garden. He saw a bench. Leaned his
bicycle against it, sat down and burst in tears. All his pain of the
death of his Diego could at last be vented. And finally he screamed,
yelled, sobbed, his body shaken by the devastating intensity of the
emotions he was feeling.

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

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 6

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

In my home page I've put some of my
stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is

http://andrejkoymasky.com

If you want to send me feed-back, please e-mail at

andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

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