WARNING: If it is illegal for you to be reading these stories or you find them disgusting or immoral, please refrain from reading further. Must be 18+ to read! Any characters, places, or people depicted in this story is entirely in the fantasy and imagination of the writer and are in no way meant to portray anyone in real life. Any people, places, or actions depicted in this story that reflect real life events or situations is entirely by accident or coincidence.
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Capitolo Due
`Il Incentivo'
Mia is a very patient person. I don't know how long I could sit and listen to somebody mangle my language before I would snap. Luckily, it's almost time for Tom to come home from work. I'll take up my lessons with him. It's only been two weeks since Paolo's visit when I made my decision to begin full immersion language learning. I banned anyone from speaking to me in English; I was determined to learn Italian. To be honest, it was coming to me easier than I thought it would. Mia tells me my accent is already far better than it was when I began. Paolo went to Greece with a group of his friends, but he will be back here next weekend, so I have one more week to at least have presentable language skills. While Mia goes through elementary school readers with me, Tom has taken it upon himself to teach me the more risqué stuff, things I might need to know if I were to get into an intimate situation. I already memorized the word `pompino', meaning `blowjob'; I had plans for that word.
I kept wondering if maybe I was making more out of the situation than is really there, I mean, nothing happened between us the weekend he was here before. I had a feeling there was some kind of chemistry between us though, why else would he spend so much time on his vacation texting and sending me pictures. Both Tom and Mia told me he is definitely interested in me. Tom confided in me that when he first came over to live with Mia that Paolo had hit on him several times, hoping Tom was willing to play both sides of the fence. Tom, however, left him very disappointed. As soon as Tom told me that, it steeled my resolution to become super Italian as well as to get into Paolo's grungy lounging shorts. Nobody knows, but I snuck into Paolo's room and sniffed his discarded underwear in the laundry basket the next morning after he went downstairs for breakfast, intoxicating. Speaking of underwear, I seemed to be missing a pair. I went back down to the laundry room, retracing my steps, to make sure I didn't drop some along the way. Oh well, I'm sure they'll turn up later.
Tom and Mia were going to Mia's nonna's house in Sulmona for dinner and they insisted that I come along. They said it will be good for my language learning; the whole family will be speaking Italian. I tried to get out of it, but they kept goading me until I finally gave in. Nonna Anna, as they called her, looked vaguely familiar to me; but many of the old nonnas look similar. She flew into rapid fire Italian as soon as we walked in; much faster than my novice ear could translate. Tom and Mia started laughing. Tom turned to me and said "Nonna Anna said she understands now, she thought it was me on the bus the night you came. She wondered why I wasn't talking to her". Oh, so that's why she looks so familiar I thought. Tom explained to her that I was just learning Italian, and she very slowly said "Benvenuto in casa mia" -- welcome to my home. "Grazie" I told her. Mia handed her the customary gift one brings when visiting. This time they brought Nonna Anna a bag with wine and some various spices she could use in her cooking. Oh, did I mention that the house smelled glorious; like the best Italian restaurant you've been to. I was introduced around and met Mia's uncle Arturo and aunt Lucia as well as her cousin Antonio. A little later Mia's older brother Niccolo (or Nicky as she called him) and her mom and dad showed up; they'd come to visit Nonna Anna from Naples, where they were living now. To say the least, dinner was overwhelming. However, by the end of the night I felt like I was picking up more pieces of conversation that I did at the beginning. At one point I saw Mia point to me and say to her parents "È come Paolo". I looked at Tom, who translated for me, she told them you are like Paolo. Right on cue, I turned bright red and suddenly took great interest in my food, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. A long conversation ensued which I could partially follow, and it seemed that it had to do with matchmaking me and Paolo, so I guess her parents didn't mind. I wasn't sure, but I felt slightly less self-conscious anyway. After a while, the conversation shifted to other things, and I just quietly enjoyed some of the best pasta I've ever had. Nonna Anna was quite the cook.
After dinner we all went to the soggiorno and had a little wine. I was feeling more relaxed, at least until Nicky came and sat next to me. He whispered to me in heavily accented, but flawless English: "I think you and Paolo will make a beautiful couple" then slapped me on the back.
"It's moving way too fast. What if Paolo doesn't want to be in a `couple'?" I said to him, my first non-Italian words in days.
"I know what my little brother likes. He wanted Tomasso so badly but couldn't have him. He will snap you up in an instant" Nicky told me. Once again, my fucking face decided to go red.
"Niccolo, perché lo metti in imbarazzo?" Mia's dad Vittorio called out.
"Va bene" I croak, `it's okay' one of the few phrases I'm fluent with.
The evening wrapped up and we set off for home. I broke my Italian only rule again.
"Your nonna is a fantastic cook" I tell Mia.
"Tua Nonna è una cuoca fantastica" she translates, always teaching,"I'll let her know you approve" Mia says smiling.
"Sounds like you and Paolo may have no choice but become a thing" Tom said. In the darkness of the car, he couldn't see how red I turned.
"Maybe. People still have free will, so who knows" I said, but was immediately betrayed by the bell on my phone as I received another text.
"I see the, how you say, chimica" Mia said.
"Chemistry" Tom stepped in.
"Yes, I see the chemistry between you when you were together" Mia said.
"Que sera, sera" I said.
"That is the French, but true, what will be, will be" she said.
The week went by fast as lightning. I was still forcing myself to only think in Italian. I watched popular TV shows and new programs, tried to read books, newspapers and magazines, everything I could to build my language skills. I felt like it was finally paying off when I got out of bed one morning and upon smelling myself, thought ho bisogno di una doccia rather than the English I need a shower. I had about a day and a half until Paolo would be back and I felt at least moderately ready for him this time. At the beginning of the week, right after the dinner party, Tom started taking me to the gym with him. In addition to practicing my language skills, I was getting a workout with the side-benefit of ogling some primo Italian beefcake. After we got done this morning, I noticed I was looking pretty toned, and I clownishly posed in the mirror wall. Since lunch I've been in my bedroom studying Italian on my iPad and generally staying out of the way until Paolo gets home.
Of course, I hear him when he comes in, but I stay quiet and listen through my open door.
"Dov'è Timò?" I hear him say.
"Ciao, Mia -- Sono a casa. Questo è quello che direbbe un buon fratello" I hear Mia reply. (Hi Mia -- I'm home. That's what a good brother would say).
In Italian, I hear Tom ask him how his trip was. They are running interference, it's really kind of funny. They are both ignoring what he is asking about.
"Mio Dio...è tornato in America..." he said sadly.
"No, no, no pazzoide! Lui è di sopra!" Mia says. (No, crazy! He's upstairs!)
I can hear footsteps on the stairs then he slowly walks to my doorway, no doubt trying to look casual.
"Ciao!" he says.
"Ciao, bello!" ("Hi, handsome!") I say in my best imitation of Mia's Abruzzese accent.
"Buon lavoro" he says -- good job. I smile and almost blush.
"I try to learn-a the English-a some-a for to talk-a with eh you-a" he says softly. I laugh.
"Sto imparando l'italiano per lo stesso motive" I tell him. Now we both laugh.
He walks over and sits next to me on the bed and gently caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers. Chill bumps appear in the wake.
"I am-a glad to-a be home-a e more-a glad you here still-a" he says in a growling whisper, then I turn red. Goddam his voice is so sexy.
Tom stuck his head in the door and said, "Sorry to disturb...uh, whatever this is...but Mia requests that you keep your clothes on because dinner is almost ready." I turn an even deeper shade of red. He repeats his words in Italian for Paolo and, for once, I'm not the only one blushing. I start to laugh.
"Ok" I say, "Tell her we'll be down in a minute."
"Finalmente ho te" (I finally have you) Paolo says to Tom.
"Non esattamente..." (Not exactly) Tom replies.
"La versione migliore" (the better version) Paolo says, "Questa versione ha una possibilità" (this version comes with a chance).
"È vero" says Tom with a smile.
So, it turns out the reason Niccolo knew what he was talking about was mostly due to Paolo telling him exactly how he felt. Apparently, Paolo and Nicky were very close, and Paolo had confided in Nicky about this strange feeling he got when he met me. When he found out that I was gay, unlike Tom, it firmed his resolve to woo me. He told Nicky he wouldn't be able to enjoy his holiday in Greece due to scheming about how to win me over. If he had any idea how easy that task would be he could have just gone ahead and enjoyed himself. We'd been talking for fifteen minutes or so when Mia screamed up the stairs that if we didn't come down immediately, she was throwing our dinner out to the strays. Paolo stood up and held out his hand to help me up. I kept holding it after standing and we walked down the stairs holding hands. I felt like I was in the middle of a 5th grade crush. Mia had set our plates on opposite sides of the table. It worked out well, we could make eyes at each other while eating. I'm sure we were a little bit sickening as most budding relationships are to people not in them. We both agreed that we would take things slow, but our physical sides were having a problem with our brain's decision. I'm jogged out of my thoughts when I feel a bare foot between my legs, rubbing across the part of my shorts where my balls are laying. It makes me suck in a breath and I start choking on the bread I had in my mouth. The foot retreats quickly, and Tom, who is sitting beside me starts slapping me on the back and asking if I'm okay. I tell him I just swallowed the wrong way and I'll be okay. I take a couple of sips of water and sort myself out. Tom and Mia start talking about house renovations or something, I tune out and despite my oath to myself to take it slow, I find my own foot going up the loose leg of a pair of short and finding a very hard piece of flesh. I jerk it back and look up into a broad smile. He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously. We really shouldn't take things so fast I tell myself again and try to pay more attention to the conversation and eating my meal. I refuse to let myself look at Paolo and instead I feign interest in what Mia is saying.
What she is saying it somewhat interesting. She and Tom are talking about the layout of the palazzo and how the top two floors on the back side, the side facing the mountains, are made like a separate apartment. It was once used for guests, completely self-contained. It even has a separate entrance from the back street. I start forming ideas. Stop it! I tell myself, too fast. I catch Paolo out of the corner of my eye, and I can tell he is thinking similar thoughts. We barely know each other I tell myself for the hundredth time. Still, my mind weaves its fairy tales.
After we're done, I help Mia with the dishes while Tom and Paolo head into the soggiorno to watch something on the television. When we finished with the dishes, I told Mia I had a headache and was going on up to lay down. I wanted to cool things down a little. She said, "Its Paolo, isn't it, too much too fast?" I whispered back to her that I just wanted to slow it down a little and let the big head control the situation, not the little one. She looked confused; I told her to ask Tom. I took the back stairs up from the kitchen to avoid the others.
Upstairs, I lay on the bed and picked up my iPad and started watching some old Bugs Bunny cartoons - it's a thing I do to relieve anxiety. The third one I've started is `What's Opera, Doc?' -- its an old favorite. Elmer Fudd sang "Oh Bwunhilda, you're so wuvley" and from my doorway came the reply, in harmony with Bugs Bunny, "Yes, I know it, I can't help it". It's Paolo, and he likes Bugs Bunny. How the hell can I cool down when it's becoming obvious, we are a real match. Next thing he'll be telling me he likes Mountain Dew, I'm thinking. He comes in and sits at the end of the bed.
"Are you angry with me?" he asks (in broken English, but you get the idea by now).
"No, I just don't want to rush into anything" I say. I see he is struggling with my answer, and I'm not sure of the proper Italian so I pull up the google translate page and type it in and show it to him.
"Ahh, si" he says nodding, "I will behave" he says.
"Don't behave too much" I tell him, "Solo un po".
"Va bene baciare?" he asks.
In answer, I take his face in my hands and kiss him lightly on the lips. His face lights up and his frown turns into a broad smile. He pulls me back in and kissed me again. I open my mouth to take in his hot tongue. I can feel a growing tube in my shorts, and after a few seconds I back away. I look down and see that his shorts have also sprung a thick tube running just under the waistband pointing toward his hip.
"That's probably enough for tonight" I tell him. He walks to the door and says "I will be...ehh" he can't find the word but makes the familiar hand motion. Me too, I'm thinking. I hear his door close, and I get up to close mine. My dick reaches the door six inches before I do. I close the door and drop my shorts on the way back to the bed. It only takes a few minutes of stroking before I make a huge mess all over my tee shirt. I pull it off and wipe up the rest of the mess, making a mental note that tomorrow will have to be laundry day. I crawl under the covers naked and fall asleep almost immediately.
The sun wakes me up and I stand up and stretch and yawn, and that's about the time the door opens, and Paolo walks in. I jump and cover my crotch but not fast enough to keep him from getting an eyeful. He has a big grin and says "Carino!" (nice). He gets a good view of how far down my blushes go. I bend and grab my shorts and pull them on as quick as I can. He says "Spiacente" (sorry) and pulls his shorts down and gives me a brief view out of himself. It doesn't last long but from what I can tell he's about the same as me lengthwise with a lot of yummy black hair. We stand there a minute and then he remembers why he came in to begin with.
"Colazione" he says, "breakfast, it's ready."
"Let me grab a clean shirt" I tell him. I turn and see the shirt from last night with dried cum all over it. I wad it up quickly and put it in the laundry basket as I grab another one to put on. He's still standing there with a shit-eating grin. I walk toward the door, but he catches me in his arms and hugs me and says "Buongiorno." He is making it very hard to keep my resolve to take things slowly. Downstairs, Mia has been out to the bakery and brought back fresh cornettos and has coffee ready. She and Tom have to run errands today, so they are leaving me and Paolo on our own. Paolo says he is going to take me sightseeing in a couple of the nearby towns. Several in this area are considered to be the most beautiful towns in Italy -- I borghi più belli d'Italia. We go up and get showered and ready to go.
Outside I discover this will be a motorcycle trip. I guess I didn't think about Paolo riding a motorcycle. He motions for me to go back and get a "giacca", pretty easy to guess that means jacket. In the meantime, he goes down into the cantina and comes out with a second helmet for me to wear. I've never ridden as a passenger on a motorcycle before so it take me a little getting used to it. I am kind of skittish about it and I wrap my arms around him and hold on tight. I think the cheeky bastard is getting off on it. In the turns I seem to keep being pressed closer to him and the bumps in the road are making me get hard and poke him in the back. There's no way he's not feeling this, I think. The ride is only about 25 minutes. When we get there, he finds a place to park the bike and we get off to walk the town. I see him staring at the still fading lump in my jeans. I hand him the helmet and he strap it to the bike with his and we start off toward the `centro storico', the historical center of the town. I start up the steps and he slaps me on my ass. This is going to be an interesting day; I can tell already.
Lambodara 3/8/23
Bello, Bello, Bambino!