The usual warning applies:
Don't be here if you shouldn't.
Some of the sexual
encounters in this story are considered unlawful by most societies, but if that
bothers you, you wouldn't have opened a story from this section anyway, so no
warning needed in that respect.
But another warning may be
pertinent: This is a romantic story (some will say sentimental) more than a
saturated porn escapade. Like most of my stories this one also evolves slowly.
I present my plot and my characters gradually rather than by measurements and
bed-hopping on page one. In my stories, sex plays the role of the icing rather
than the cake. But don't worry, the icing gets thicker the further along you
get.
There is no virus anywhere
near this story.
And English is still not my
first language (which basically means my vocabulary is limited and my knowledge
of idioms on the poorer side...)
I'd love to hear from you.
All kinds of criticism is welcome as long as it's factual rather than
insulting. winterboy@tutanota.com
And remember to support
Nifty. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
OH, MARTIN! II
or
"FLESHABLE"
Magnus Winter
Part Eight
Doorbell sounds
like a demented dog barking and mingles with a voice desperately yelling
incoherent words. Martin hurries down. Only to find Filippo with a terrified
face and a puke-covered Tin-tin under his arm. Without thinking, Martin grabs
the boy with the unfamiliar gloss in his eyes and the slow movements from him,
hoists him up over his shoulder and runs up the stairs, Filippo hard at his
heels.
Into the bathroom. He puts Tin-tin down on the toilet
seat, starts to pull the soiled sweater over his head. Tin-tin resists.
"Tin-tin! What's wrong? Talk to me!"
Tin-tin turns his head from side to side, tries to
make his eyes stand still, and very slowly lifts his hand.
"I'm ... We ... There's this ... It's not good anymore ...
It's a little scary ... " The last words come out as whispers.
Martin holds him, but Tin-Tin pushes him away,
panting, like he's out of breath. Martin turns to Filippo, anguish, and also
anger knits his brows.
"What's this? Are you drunk? Or is it drugs?"
Filippo cringes. "I don't know ... I guess", he
stutters, on the verge of tears.
"What kind of drugs? Who gave them to you?" Martin
almost shouts.
Filippo can't hold back the tears any longer. "Please
don't be mad! It wasn't me!"
Martin bites his lip, watching Tin-tin who just sits
there on the lid staring into space.
"I didn't mean to yell at you, Filippo. You did the
right thing to bring him home. Now tell me what's been going on."
"There was something in a nose spray bottle and Andy
said it would make us feel good. And feel funny. I think he stole it from his
brother because he kept talking about how his brother danced naked in his room
with the music on loud after he ... I don't know, sprayed his nose, and Andy asked if we wanted to try,
and Tin-tin said yes and Andy sprayed his nose a couple of times and nothing happened
so then he did it again."
He dries off his tears. His eyes still look frightened
to death and there's panic in his voice.
"It seemed okay at first, Tin-tin just giggled a lot
but not at anything, like he was in a different place, and we started to walk
home and then suddenly Tin-tin started to moan and sway and stagger a bit and
then he puked all over himself and I got so scared!"
"And you don't know what was in that bottle? How come
you don't feel bad as well?"
"I don't know what it was!" Filippo moans. "And I
didn't wanna do it, so I didn't!"
Martin scrutinizes him. "Stay with him. I'm going to
call Boyd."
Filippo is left alone with Tin-tin who just sits there
with that far-away look. He moves closer, strokes Tin-tins cheeks, searches into
those unfocused eyes. Mumbles: "Please? ... Tin-tin? Please?"
Tin-tin obviously makes an effort to concentrate on
the face before him. Suddenly he giggles and says in a deep, gravelly voice:
"Ya wanna see my cock, Mister?" And bends over and
vomits on both of them. "Ooops!"
What now? Well, the logical thing is to clean them up,
and that practical task will maybe make him feel less helpless and less
frightened. He strips them down to their underwear, Tin-tin seems happy to let
him do it, then Filippo turns the shower on, throws their soiled clothes into
the shower and turns the water on. Directs the jet from the shower head onto
the clothes on the tiled floor and tries to wash the vomit off. But there's puke on their underwear as well,
so he leads Tin-tin under the cascading water, tighty-whities and all. It's
still a bit cold, but Tin-tin doesn't seem to mind, so ...
White, wet cotton clings to pale and golden skin,
outlining nipples and navels, clearly showing two cocks of different size, and
that's the sight that meets Martin when he comes back into the bathroom. He
sits down on the toilet seat and for a while revels in the display of the two
half-naked, beautiful and wet boys. Feels a stirring in his loins in spite of
the seriousness of the situation. Swallows and clears his throat.
"Boyd says it sounds like it's GHB, except for the
puking", he tells them, "Probably too big a dose for comfort, that could maybe
explain the sickness, although he said that's probably just a coincidence and
more likely from something he ate. Anyway, he said as long as Tin-tin is not
unconscious, we don't have to do anything. It will wear off in a few hours."
Tin-tin suddenly hugs Filippo tight and humps his hips
against Filippo's groin, not bothering that they're in Martin's full view.
Filippo withdraws from him. "Don't!"
"Why not?" Tin-tin speaks slowly, sounds like he's
slightly drunk. "It's okay to have stiffies in front of Martin, cuz he likes
`em too. Show him yours! Show him your Mister Biggie!"
Martin interferes. His voice is stern and his words
come with emphasis.
"Now, Tin-tin, how many times do you need to be told
to let Filippo decide for himself what to say and what to do? So drop it, this
is neither the time nor the place for stuff like that!"
Filippo has gone to lean against the wall away from
the spray of water. The front of his wet briefs is strained with something
growing in there. He covers it with his hand.
Tin-tin unhurriedly pulls down his underpants and
looks down on his stiff dick, then wraps his hand around it still watching it.
The swollen head pokes out of his fist.
"See? It's getting longer all the time!" he proudly
announces.
Both Martin and Filippo watch him dumbfounded, both
have trouble concentrating on anything else. Tin-tin lets go of his treasure
and starts pulling his soaked T-shirt over his head. Martin pulls himself
together and fetches a large towel, grips Tin-tin by the arm and pulls him out
of the shower and into the towel.
"Filippo, please turn the water off. And lose those
wet things and get into that robe there, mine should fit you better that
Boyd's. I'll deal with this little bundle of joy here."
He rubs Tin-tin down, the boy closes his eyes and
leans his head back. Suddenly filled with remorse, his voice comes out small
and timid.
"Sorry, Filippo. Please don't be mad."
Martin puts Tin-tin's bathrobe on him. Tin-tin leans
heavily against him. "I feel so weird", he croaks. "Like I'm in waves or
something."
Martin leads him out to give Filippo the privacy to get
himself sorted out. Martin sits Tin-tin down on the couch and puts his arm
around his shoulders. Kisses him lightly on his forehead.
"How do you feel now? Still sick?"
"No. Just strange. Like the floor's too far down. I
don't wanna talk."
Filippo now comes in, sits awkwardly down at the edge
of the armchair in the corner, wary and uncertain of the whole situation.
Martin smiles reassuringly at him. "Smart of you not to try this, Filippo. Why
didn't you?"
Filippo frowns, fidgets with the robe's belt. Looks
out of the window.
"I don't know. I just didn't want to."
He thinks some more.
"Maybe because I'm finally off that stupid medicine
they've given me for years and years, and I've started to feel that maybe I'm a
person and not a shadow in the middle of a fog. And I want to feel real and ...
and I don't want any more stuff to make me feel like I'm not."
Tin-tin lifts his head. "It was fun at first," he
moans, "but then it wasn't and I want it to stop now!"
Martin squeezes his shoulder lightly. "It will. You
just have to wait for it to pass, there's nothing we can do to hurry it. Just
hold on, and you'll be yourself again in a couple of hours. And then we'll talk about this."
But Tin-tin seems not to listen. He opens his robe and
then just sits there caressing his still stiff dick.
"This is my cock", he says, as if it needs
explanation. "And don't tell me to stop, cuz I'm gonna play with it until this
is over and you can do whatever you like ... but I'm not going to stop, cuz I
like my willy. My cock."
Martin looks at Filippo. Filippo looks at Martin. Then
both pairs of eyes are drawn to the boy who sits there in front of them, robe
open to reveal flat, smooth chest and stomach tapering down to a shadowy tiny
wreath of small dark hairs, and a longish, slim
cock that is being pushed down by a thumb and let loose to bounce back
with a smack against taut belly-skin. Again and again.
Filippo is getting unbearably turned on and struggles
to hide his quandary. His throat feels like sandpaper and all his sensible
thoughts are being chased away to give room to the devastatingly beautiful and
immensely arousing sight in front of him. Blindly his hand in his lap, the hand
that was meant to cover his raging excitement, starts to pressure and squeeze, not
very overtly, but Martin's keen eyes observe what's going on. And it's starting
to affect him rather heavily.
Filippo's eyes swiftly meet Martin's again, there's
such a desperate plea in them it tears at Martin's heart. He smiles, removes
his arm from Tin-tin's shoulder and rises.
"It's fine, Filippo", he says softly. "Go ahead. I'll
leave you boys to it."
Filippo looks wildly at him. "No!" he whispers. "You
too!"
Martin is flabbergasted. Did he hear that right? Is
this really happening? And if he lets this happen, whatever it is that's going
to happen, can he face himself afterwards? But his pants are getting way too
tight and his brain is about to give way to the rearing monster down there, and
what the fuck should he do?
"Really?" he asks feebly. "Are you sure that's
something you'd like?"
Filippo just nods silently. And his hand starts to
openly move along the cloth-covered pole between his legs. Martin pulls another
chair up and sits down, now they're sitting in a wide triangle.
"I'm getting uncomfortably hard because of you boys",
Martin says. "I have to do something about it. Would that bother you?"
Filippo stares at Martin's bulging crotch, opens his
mouth, but his tongue feels too dry to speak. He slowly shakes his head and
sucks on his tongue to moisten his mouth. Like a flash he spreads his robe
open. And Martin almost explodes in his pants.
Even if he's already had a glimpse of Filippo's soft penis,
he wasn't prepared for this. Oh my god in heaven, he thinks, that is
the biggest cock I've ever seen on such a young boy. Well, honestly, he
hasn't seen many young boys like that, only on his teacher's paintings, but
they weren't anything like this. And now Filippo frowns at him and beckons him
to follow suit, and his fingers shiver and feel numb as he rises, unzips and
lets his pants fall to the floor. Followed by his boxers. His cock springs
forward in all it's might and Filippo gasps.
The smacking sound from Tin-tin's activity stops, like
he's suddenly awake and notices what's going on in the room. His smile widens,
his eyes crinkle behind his glasses and it makes him look almost evil, and the
longest sigh in the world escapes him. "Oh fuck", he breathes. "Oh, fucking
great!"
It's all about cocks now. The three of them, silently
sitting there, nothing on their minds but the cocks in front of them, no faces,
no smooth skin, no skinny or sinewy bodies, all and everything is cocks. Each
of them slowly and caressingly stroking their own and filling their vision with
the other two's, each of them in their own private heaven of cock visuals and
cock dreams.
But now Tin-tin slips out of his robe and walks to the
middle of the floor, stands broad-legged, dick pointing north, hands waving,
beckoning the other two to come to him. Martin hesitates, but as Filippo rises
and slowly gets nearer to the naked boy, robe open and cock in hand, his reluctance
evaporates like mist, he gets up and shuffles his feet forward, pants around his
ankles, until they all stand facing each other. Well, facing ... they're all
looking down at the assembly of jutting members.
It's like a graphic chart of penis growth: Tin-tin
just starting puberty, his cock with its slight upward bend, not much thicker that
a thumb, but its length makes up for its lack of girth, balls like starling
eggs are drawn up now to sit almost on the side of his penis' root. Filippo,
further into development, has grown to man size, actually past quite a few men,
his cock fat enough for a good fistful, more than long enough to demand
attention, straight as an arrow with foreskin retracting to reveal half a shiny
head. And at the top of the columns, Martin with the crown product, the master
cock, in Filippo's eyes absurdly large. He can't take his eyes off it: The
veiny shaft, shockingly long and fat, the tapered head with the drop of liquid
trickling out from the slit, the thick foreskin that's pulled slowly back and
forth. There's just one overwhelming thought in his head: He wants to touch it.
He must touch it.
His right hand still loosely holding and barely
stroking his own stiffy, Filippo tentatively reaches out his left hand, not
actually close to Martin's whopper, but clearly signaling what's on his mind.
Martin takes a step forward, and Filippo's arm reaches further. With a soft
grip Martin takes Filippo's hand and leads it to close around his balls,
feeling the violent tremble that surges through the skinny arm. He pushes the
ball-holding hand even further backwards and lets his cock slide along the
scarred underarm, it reaches from the boy's wrist almost up to his elbow. He
fantasizes that his cock is a magic
stick that will heal the skin and remove the sad marks of all those unhappy
years.
Oh shit, what am I doing? Panic flashes through Martin's brain and he lets go
of Filippo's hand. But he's too far gone to be able to withdraw from the
situation, his feet seem nailed to the floor and his body is consumed with heat
and lust. He mobilizes all his willpower to stay passive, let Filippo take the
lead and decide whatever it is he feels should happen and eventually when it
should happen.
Filippo, eyes glued to the cock on his arm, slowly
lets his hand glide away from Martin's balls and close around the base of the
cock, squeezing hard trying to make his middle finger meet his thumb, the tips
of his long fingers just barely touch. He loosens the grip. Martin exhales
loudly but doesn't make a move. So Filippo's trembling hand glides along the
shaft, pulls and pushes softly at the foreskin, then peels it all the way back
to reveal the glistening plum-shaped head.
Tin-tin breaks the silence, sways a bit.
"I still feel weird", he confesses, "but Martin, do
you see that Filippo's willy, I mean his cock, is as big as Boyd's? I wish mine
was big, too!"
Both Martin and Filippo seem to come out of a trance,
but Martin still feels the tremble in Filippo's hand. "It's more than big
enough for a boy your age", Martin says, swallowing hard. "And it's the
prettiest one I've ever met."
"Yeah, but don't you think Filippo's cock is pretty?"
He reaches out and closes his hand around the object in question, pushing
Filippo's own hand forward to encase the tip.
Martin swallows again. Allows himself to meet
Filippo's gaze. "Yes, it's a beautiful piece of equipment. Very beautiful."
Tin-tin now reaches for Martin's cock, and suddenly
there are two soft boy's hands caressing Martin's bloated meat. He bites his
lip as goosebumps race down his neck and back, almost painful.
"I think he'll be as big as you!" Tin-tin sings out
enthusiastically.
Filippo remains silent, but now his hand leaves his
own cock and starts to stroke Tin-Tin's. And so the two boys have someone
else's cock in each hand, slowly jerking and squeezing them, Filippo's whole
body shivering like a leaf.
It's too much for Martin. Those two soft hands, those
two handsome ... no, beautiful boys playing with his cock, and the sight
of those lovely young cocks fondled by young hands ... He folds his hands behind
his back to stop himself from grabbing at the boys, but now everything in his
abdomen and groin ties up into a hard knot and then loosens and spreads out in
ripples of exquisite pleasure as his orgasm hits him and his cock pumps a
fountain of pearly cum up in the air to land on the arms and thighs of his
young friends. My young lovers, he imagines for a fleeting moment. God,
how I want to touch them ...
It's the trigger Filippo can't withstand. He yelps
like a puppy as his knees buckle, his body goes spastic and he thrusts his cock through Tin-tin's fist
and shoots his spray of almost transparent fluid right onto Martin's still hard
cock. Then sinks to his knees.
"Oh, shit!" Tin-tin moans. "You didn't wait for me!"
He turns around, his ass almost in the dazed Filippo's face. "Please, Filippo!
Like you did in the shower! Pretty please!"
He spreads his legs hopefully, his whole being
tingling with lust, wanting so much, longing for so much. And Filippo does what
he's asked to do, no reluctance, wanting to please this boy he's come to love
so much ... because what else can it be but love? ... wanting to please him in
every possible way, and his tongue is homing in on its destination, this is
where it belongs, right here, giving pleasure to this wonderful boy, and his
cock rises again and throbs as his face is buried between two firm hemispheres
and his tongue tickles and prods at the tiny opening that is the most intimate
and personal place on earth.
And Tin-tin moans and wriggles and jerks his dick,
lost in the sensation, consumed by lust and engulfed by love ... because what
else can it be but love? ... and now it's happening, now it comes ...
He arches his back.
"Look!" he shouts. His slim cock twitches and throbs,
and out flies a small drop, and then one powerful string and several smaller
spurts of cum. And that relentless tongue keeps on, jerky now, and he hears
Filippo's staccato panting, so he bends his head down between his legs, and
holding his breath, he sees Filippo squirt again, less this time, but enough.
Something inside him suddenly becomes very clear, and he turns, crawls down in
front of Filippo and licks the droplets off the floor, all the way up to
Filippo's yummy cock that seems to await him, and he kisses it, licks it, and
then tries to suck it all the way into his mouth and down his throat. And gags.
Martin, dumbstruck from what he sees, feels like his
head is about to explode. Never has he seen anything more devastatingly
arousing, never has he felt so almost painfully aware of a beauty he couldn't
even have dreamt up, and never has he felt so hopelessly old and so full of
this sharp awareness that such immense sexual beauty is something he never had
in his own youth. His blood thunders in his ears and in his cock, he jacks it
off as tears start to spring from his eyes, and he comes in a frenzy of love
and regret and shame.
And through his confusion his clearest thought is Oh,
my! I came two times in a row!
Filippo's head is filled to bursting point with
contradictory feelings:
This
is beyond anything I could dream of, this is so way out of my reach, and yet ...
here I am, holding the most beautiful boy in the universe naked and asleep in
my arms, my ugly body and my cursed skin next to him, stuck to him, almost like
melting into him ... so why do I still feel so frightened? Is it because my brain
tells me all of this will vanish at the drop of a hat? Is it because a
monstrosity like me has no right to this, my birthright is misery and my
heritage is agony and emptiness ... Is it because somewhere in the back of my
head betrayal and faithlessness hammers nails into my ... my soul? ... because I
have betrayed Felix, Felix who was there for me, who had to die ... because he
defended me ... Felix who is gone forever ... and I'm just ... just leaving him,
leaving the memory of him because I'm ... I'm ... I'm in love with someone ...
He wants
to scream.
But I
haven't betrayed him! Stop telling me things like that! He's in my head as long
as I keep him there! Why can't I let myself just be in this moment, maybe even
let myself think I could deserve something like this?
Tin-tin
stirs in his arms. Pushes even closer to him, closer to his chest, closer to
his hard dick. Filippo's wiggles his hips and feels his stiffy throb against the
satiny skin of Tin-tin's butt.
And if
I let myself go in this ... this bliss ... if I let myself believe in this, if I
let myself own this ... this feeling, this strange and utterly incomprehensible
thing that's happening to me ... because of this boy, because I love this boy ...
why do I still also see big Martin in my head ... and want him to touch me with
his hands ... and his cock ... that unbelievable cock ... and that makes me a
treacherous asshole, because being with Tin-tin should be enough, should imply
that he's all I want ... and I do want him ... but also ...
A loud
yawn. The body he's holding suddenly stretches and breaks out of their spooning
cocoon.
Tin-tin turns
over on his back, opens his eyes.
"Hi."
Filippo
just smiles. Tin-tin looks groggy and puzzled.
"Why are
we here?"
"You fell
asleep on the couch and Martin put you here. And told me to look after you in
case you got sick again."
"I feel
better now." Tin-tin noisily blows air through his lips. "Fuck. I'm never gonna
do this again. I'm not gonna end up like Mum." He turns to face Filippo.
"Jesus, you still got a stiffy!" His hand closes around it. Squeezes it. "Yum!"
But Filippo
is now on a different plane. "I didn't know you had a mum. I thought it was
just you and Boyd. And Martin."
Tin-tin
yawns again and sits up.
"She
died. She was a lush. I mean, she wasn't mean or anything, she was just drunk
all the time and puked a lot, well, most of the time anyway. I don't wanna be
like that. And Boyd was the one who looked after me always. Shit, I hope he's
not mad at me now."
"What
about your dad?"
Tin-tin
spreads his hands and shrugs. "No idea. Why do you wanna know?"
Filippo
rolls over on his back and looks away. "I don't know. Maybe because I never had
parents. That I can remember, anyway. Just strangers who yelled at me and
locked me up in cupboards." He tries to laugh it off.
Tin-tin
studies him keenly. "How shitty! Is that why you cut yourself?" He regrets the
words as soon as they're out. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
"I don't
wanna talk about it."
Tin-tin
feels a need to make amends, to make his rash words go away.
"But now
we can share Boyd and Martin, cuz they're like parents, only nicer that most.
If you believe what others say about their rents."
Filippo
frowns and shakes his head. No. That's not going to happen. That's not an
option. That would be imposing. That would mean again being pushed on to
someone who doesn't really want him. He knows only too well what that's like.
Tin-tin
just sees something dark pass over Filippo's face. He lies down again and wraps
his arms around Filippo.
"They
like you, you know. A lot. I can tell."
Filippo
just hides his face in the crook of Tin-tin's neck.
"I would so
dig that", Tin-tin says. "The four of us. Like a family. And then you didn't
have to leave every night."
"Don't!"
Filippo whispers. "I don't need fantasy. I don't wanna wish for stuff I can't
have. It's more than I ever thought I could have just to be with you every now
and then."
Tin-tin
hugs him harder.
"I wanna
be with you all the time", he murmurs, "but right now I should get up and face
the music. If Boyd's back, I know he's gonna give me a lecture. Bound to. Will
you please be there with me?"
Filippo
sighs. "I'll do anything you want", he whispers. "Anything."
***
The two
boys come out of Tin-tin's room, Tin-tin fully dressed, Filippo in Martin's
robe. They hear the sound of the shower going.
Martin is
at the kitchen counter cutting vegetables, still in his paint-stained work clothes.
He turns when he hears them, knife in hand, the blade flashes in the light.
Filippo suddenly feels a jolt of panic. Martin puts the knife down.
"Feeling
better?"
Tin-tin
draws a deep breath. "I'm fine now. I'm sorry, Martin."
Martin
studies him closely. "Well, maybe you should be", he says, his voice is
serious, but still friendly and soft. "But I guess the important thing is what
you've learned from this."
Tin-tin
looks a bit shame-faced as he looks down and silently nods his head. The shower
stops, and Tin-tin's tension is suddenly very obvious.
"Is he
mad?" he timidly askes Martin with a slight movement towards the bathroom.
Martin
just looks at him before he turns away to finish with the vegetables. "Not
mad", he finally answers. "Just worried."
Boyd
comes out, also in his robe, identical with the one Filippo's wearing. He
stops, looks from one to the other, then strides over to Filippo and gives his
shoulder a quick pat.
"Thank
you, Filippo. Thank you for looking after him. That was very responsible of
you."
He leaves
the blushing boy, grabs his brother by the back of his neck and leads him to
the couch. Sits them both down and puts an arm around Tin-tin's shoulder. The
familiarity of it helps Tin-tin relax and forget his apprehension. He leans in
and starts to weep.
Boyd lets
him finish. It doesn't take very long, there's no heavy crying, just a bit of tension
that has to leave Tin-tin's body.
"Now,
this will be a very short talk", Boyd begins, "because I want Andy to be here
for the big talk."
He looks
down at his brother's bent head, then softly kisses the short hair. "You didn't
think you'd escape a sermon, did you?" he says softly into Tin-Tin's crown. "You
bring Andy over after school tomorrow. If he says no, you can tell him that if
he won't come, I'll have to notify his parents and the principal and the police
and everyone about the incident. Yes, I know that's blackmail, but I think it's
necessary in this case. Okay?"
Tin-tin
nods.
"So all
I'm going to say right now, is that I'm very happy and relieved that Filippo
was there for you, and that he was smart enough not to experiment with stuff none
of you knew anything about."
He changes
his attention to Filippo. "Your clothes are dry now", he tells him. "It's
getting a bit late, so you can go home to Marion if you like, or you can eat
with us first. She knows you're here, I suppose?"
"I texted
her", Filippo says, barely audible.
Tin-tin
lifts his head. "He can sleep over! Please? He doesn't have to go! I want him
to stay!"
Martin
puts a dish in the oven and straightens his back. "There you go again, Tin-tin.
Now please let Filippo decide for himself!"
Boyd looks
questioningly at Filippo. "What do you say? Go or stay?"
Filippo
blushes again. These people! Always wanting him to choose, always asking him
what he wants, always making it so difficult for him ...
"I don't
know", he finally mumbles. "I don't want Marion to get angry with me if I don't
come back."
"She
won't. I'll call her if you decide you want to sleep over. I want to talk to
her about what happened today anyway."
Filippo
looks down at his naked feet. "I'd like to stay, please", he whispers.
***
They've
eaten, and Filippo has helped Tin-tin stack the dishwasher and clean the
surfaces. Suddenly Martin pops up behind them like a genie from a bottle.
"Filippo.
Will you please come with me to the studio? I want to show you something."
Filippo
puts down the sponge and looks uncertain and a bit concerned. Martin gives him
one of his rare smiles. "Nothing to worry about, Filippo."
"Okay",
the boy mumbles.
"Tin-tin,
I think you should go change the sheets on your bed. It's been a while, hasn't
it? If you invite people for sleep-overs, you should offer them clean sheets,
don't you think?"
Tin-tin
just giggles while Filippo turns a deep red.
"Come on."
Martin
leads the way out and up. Outside the studio door he stops and inspects
Filippo's shy and bashful countenance. Wants to put him at ease, but doesn't
quite know how. Honesty is probably the best policy anyway.
"That was
a ruse", he admits. "I will show you your almost finished portrait, but
my real agenda was to talk to you about what happened earlier. Just to make
sure you're okay. If you don't want to talk to me, then now is the time to go
back down again."
Filippo
looks at him, those big, brown eyes show a mix of wariness and admiration, it's
hard to know which feeling will win.
"I'm not
afraid of you", he whispers, more to himself than to Martin. "I'm not!" he
repeats loudly.
Martin
unlocks the door, leads Filippo inside and over to the easel by the windows.
There it is, the new portrait. Blue cap and all. The face painted in warm
colors, eyes looking directly at you from the canvas, lips slightly parted,
looking moist and shiny. Kissable, Filippo suddenly thinks. But the
lower half of the canvas is just empty outlines.
"I wanted
to ask you how you'd feel about it if I did your shoulders ... well, the whole visible bit of your upper body shirtless",
Martin says. "But first I need to know how you feel about what happened
downstairs. I mean when Tin-tin sort of set us off playing with our penises and
all that. I know most people would think I should have left you two alone, not have
joined you like I did. Grown-ups aren't supposed to behave like that with kids,
you know. And even though I thought at the time that you wanted it to happen,
you may well feel different about it now. Do you understand why I feel uneasy
about this? I just don't want to create new problems for you, you know."
Filippo
swallows. Breathes heavily a couple of times. How can he make those grown-ups
stop making problems where none exist while they ignore the areas where the
real issues are? He sits down on the floor in front of the easel. The robe
slides open and shows his right leg right up to mid-thigh, but he doesn't care.
"I'm not
afraid of dicks!" he says somewhat impatiently. "I never was! It's not dicks
that make me feel bad. It's that people don't want me! They always push me away
and call me names and tell me I'm disgusting, but you never did. You've told me
I'm not ugly so many times I almost believe it. But you wouldn't touch me. Why
didn't you touch me?" And in a whisper: "I know why."
Martin is
astonished. Has he, have they all been wrong about this boy the whole time?
Withholding touches and hugs, keeping distance, because they thought he reacted
negatively to physical contact?
"But ...
but that's what we've been told", Martin almost stutters. "That we should be
careful not to push ourselves on to you, mentally or physically. So we try not
to!"
Filippo
sounds quite disturbed. "Why are you all so stupid?" he almost shouts. "Why did
everyone think ignoring me and scowling at me ... or on the other hand boxing my
ears or punching my nose or pinch and squeeze until I cried ... why did they
think that was a good thing?"
He
scratches at his underarm, wondering for a fleeting moment why Martin's cock isn't
still there on top of the scars.
"Because
that was all I got." His voice is quieting down. "And when they saw that I
tried to hide from it and run away from it, why didn't anyone try to just hug
me and hold me instead? No, then they found out that the smart thing was to ...
like, walk in a big circle around me ... and whisper behind my back and talk
bullshit to me, like to a baby ... and put poison in me and tell everyone to be
careful not to touch me!"
He jumps
up, runs to the door, but stops and turns around. It's like all his shyness
evaporates as words tumble out of him
like an avalanche.
"Listen,
that man who fucked the daylights out of me, the one that Felix gave a hole in
the head, I'd have let him do it if he had been nice about it, just to feel someone
hold me, but he just did it to punish me because that cunt told him to do it,
and when you're told you need punishment for being an ugly freak enough times,
you believe it ... and the only one who ever held you and touched you in a nice
way was taken away from you ... and everyone told you that you weren't allowed
even to think about him ...and you sorta learn that's how the world works and you
know you have to stop hoping for anything else ... but you still want something ...
something ... but in the end you just don't want anything to do with people
anymore, because you know they'll just turn out to be mean bastards in the end
and there's a limit to how much hurt you want in your life, isn't there?"
He leans against the door, panting, like
he's exhausted.
"But you!
You made me think I was almost a normal person!" His tears now spring like a
fountain from his eyes. "So why wouldn't
you touch me?" he sobs.
Martin
feels the floor sink under his feet. Jesus, how is he going to deal with this?
He runs his hand through his hair, takes two steps in Filippo's direction,
looking confused and distressed.
"But
Filippo! It's not like that! I would have loved to touch you, it was all I
wanted to do down there, but think! I didn't know anything about what you have
just told me, I just knew what others had told me about you. And apart from
that, you know as well as I do what the law says about adults doing sexual
things with underage kids. I'm sorry I'm being blunt about this, but those two
things were what held me back, maybe not even as much as they should have, I
probably shouldn't have participated at all. Will you please try to understand
that?"
Filippo
crosses his arms in front of his face, shoulders trembling from the small sobs
that run through his body.
"Think
about Tin-tin for a minute. That boy ... that lovely boy is so in love with you,
all he wants is to be with you all the time, and cuddle and kiss and make love
and everything. Now, isn't that a wonderful thing? Isn't that exactly what
you've been telling me you've been missing, what you want? Well, you have it
now!"
Filippo
drops his arms down. Sniffles and leans his head against the door. Closes his
eyes.
"I'm
sorry. I was unfair. Maybe they're right about me being sick in the head."
Martin
takes the last steps over to him, holding his arms open, but leaving the
decision to Filippo. And Filippo opens his eyes, puffs and snorts a few times, moans loudly and
then throws himself into Martins embrace.
They're about
the same height. Cheek to cheek, Martin rocks him slowly. "You're not sick. You just
need to believe you can be loved. In many different ways."
"I don't
know anything anymore", Filippo sighs, mumbling into Martin's shirt, "I don't
know about ... about love and stuff. I thought maybe I was learning something ...
but I'm not."
Martin
holds him, softly swaying them from side to side. To Filippo, his arms suddenly
feel like a home and his voice is like balm on sore skin:
"You will.
I know you will."
***
Still
dark. The distant hum of traffic is like background music to the regular
breathing from the boy next to him. He feels like he's in a story, a
fairytale, like someone has hacked into
his consciousness and downloaded a trojan horse filled with dreamy images. How
can this be real? How can this be him?
He eyes fix on the pale and shadowy shoulder and neck beside
him. Now that all this has been planted in my brain, how can I leave it
alone? How will I manage without it? His finger lightly touches the
shoulder blade, so warm, so silky, so flawless. He puts his nose close to the
skin and inhales.
But his bladder is killing him. Careful not to wake the sleeping boy, he slips out of bed and
noiselessly finds his way to the bathroom.
On his way back he passes the opening to Martin's and Boyd's nook.
Something in his brain tells him he shouldn't, that this is spying, but he
stops to watch anyway. Martin, on his back, is covered all the up to his neck,
but Boyd has turned over on his stomach and is halfway out of the sheets, one
leg bent over the lump that Martin's body makes. Those pale buttocks seem
almost to light up the room.
He shivers. This is real, he thinks, this is Boyd in flesh
and blood, and not in a painting ... and what he sees is even more devastatingly
attractive than pictures, more enthralling than he could imagine. That ass.
That beautiful, gorgeous ass. It's had Martin's breathtaking cock inside it. He
knows, he's heard them. He pictures it spread open, filled to bursting point
with that magnificent cock, and his skin tingles and he shudders. How does that
feel? How much does it hurt? Worse than that time when he ...? But he didn't hear
Boyd scream or anything, and Tin-tin has said they both love to do it, so it
must feel like ... Better than Felix' tongue? Better than his own fingers? He
can't imagine what it would feel like. He wishes he could have seen them, see
how they did it. And suddenly all he can think is that he wants to be part of this.
Wants to feel a huge, hard cock slide into him and fill him up and make him
real, and whole, and heal everything that's broken ...
He tears himself loose from the sight, tiptoes back to
Tin-tin's room. Gets into bed, spoons the naked boy and slips his half hard dick
in between his thighs. And like that he falls back into a dreamless sleep.
Part Nine
"There
should be a license for parenting", Boyd sneers as he hangs up his coat. Martin
lifts an eyebrow.
"I pity
those teachers. I guess they go through the same shit year after year." Boyd
sinks down on the couch, stretches his legs out in front of him. "No wonder
there are so many fucked-up kids."
"What was
it this time?" Martin asks, handing Boyd a cup of spiced chai.
"The main
topic was supposed to be cyberbullying, but instead it turned into an endless
quarrel about showers after PE with a thoroughly stupid and ridiculous squabble
about sex ed in its wake."
"Oh, God.
Is that still an issue?"
"For ever
so, it seems. Where's Tin-tin?"
"In his room.
Listening to music or playing games, I don't know."
Boyd gets
up and walks over to Tin-tins nook. Finds his brother on top of the sheets in
his underwear, vacant face, headphones covering his ears. Boyd waves his hand
in front of his eyes to get his attention. Tin-tin gets rid of the mini
blasters and picks up his glasses.
"Got a
minute? I want to ask you something. Come sit with us."
Tin-tin,
looking slightly alarmed, follows him and sits down next to Martin, then crawls
in under his arm.
"What did
I do now?" he asks with a frown.
"Nothing,
I hope. I just want to know ... Your class, do you know any of the parents?"
Tin-tin
thinks a bit. "Not really. Why?"
"You know
Andy's parents, don't you?"
"I've met
his mum. His dad doesn't live here and Andy sees him only on holidays and
stuff. There's a step-father, but I don't know him. Andy says he stinks."
"Did you
ever talk to his mother about us? About Martin and me for instance?"
"No! Why
would I do that? She hardly spoke to me at all, so why would I talk to her?"
"No
reason. Just that she uttered some rather ambiguous remarks tonight at the
meeting."
Martin
coughs. Tin-tin looks puzzled. "What does am ... that word mean?"
"In this
case it means you don't really say something straight out, but still make it obvious
what you mean. She was more or less trying to shut me up with some allusions to
gays and naked boys while we discussed showering after PE."
"Oh!"
Tin-tin exclaims. "Are the showers fixed now? Are we getting to use the showers
again?"
"Not if
half of the mothers have it their way." He mimics a whining female voice: "Oh,
but my boy is so shy! Oh, my girl will never undress in public, never! Oh, but
they should wear swimsuits when they shower! So I said I thought the whole
point of showers after PE was to teach the kids about personal hygiene, and do
they wear clothes when they shower at home? And that's when that crabby mother
of Andy's couldn't resist her jibe."
Tin-tin
thinks quietly for a while.
"That's
weird. Andy says she doesn't much care what he and his brother does. You heard
him when we had that talk about drugs and stuff. Why would she care about naked
or not?"
"Just to
get at me, I suppose. That's why I asked if you had told her about us. Anyway,
I couldn't see why this was an issue at all, so I said let those who want to
shower do it, and let the rest of them just skip it. I mean, why make sort of an
ethical issue of it and go on about it for hours? But no, those mothers acted
like it would be a crime if you differentiated, like there's a moral standard
that says everyone has to do the same thing."
Martin breaks in. "But what's gay
got to do with this?"
"Don't
ask me. But whats-her-name got them going, and if that wasn't enough, they
started to cackle about sex ed being homosexual propaganda. So I asked what
happened to the thing we were there for, namely bullying on social media and
all that, and Andy's mother uttered some more double-edged snide remarks about
me, implying I was afraid to discuss this because gays use sex ed to recruit
kids. Tin-tin, have you been experimenting sexually with Andy and that's why
she's foaming at the mouth so?"
"No."
Tin-tin shakes his head and shrugs. "I don't think I like him that way. And I'm
pretty sure he wouldn't want to. He's always on about girls and stuff."
"Good. I
want you to be careful there. Anyway, that teacher of yours, Alsted, tried
several times to direct the discussion over to the main issue, but he gave up
in the end and called the meeting off and postponed the theme until the next
meeting."
Martin
sniggers. "Sounds like a fruitful event."
Boyd
sighs. Looks at Tin-tin. "Sometimes I wonder if any of your schoolmates have
fathers. They never show up at these meetings, like it's a sissy thing to do or
something! Nor do some of the nice mothers I remember from earlier. I guess
they've all realized what a waste of time it is."
He
stretches and scratches his neck.
"Next
time I want you to come with me", he says to Martin. "That could be
interesting."
***
Filippo
is sitting naked on a cushion by the window. Martin is busy with his paints and
his brushes, every now and then mumbling unintelligibly, or uttering small
encouragements aimed at Filippo. Not that they're needed, Filippo is strangely
at ease in the situation. Still, his mind goes in repeated circles, wondering
how on earth he's come to this point: Sitting here au naturel and not feeling mortified,
not even the least bit awkward, and Martin's scrutinizing gaze feels like a
bath in warm waves. And his scrawny, afflicted body has turned into ... something
to feel good about? Something to be proud of? What are these people doing to
him?
Tin-tin,
not one to keep his clothes on when the opportunity of nudism presents itself,
is belly-down on the leather couch, pale buttocks like buns waiting for the
oven, volume of Canterbury Tales open in front of him.
"Whoever
said these are sexy stories was lying", he suddenly sings out.
Martin
sniggers. "Oh, but they are!" he comments. "Some of them, at least. You don't
need four-letter-words to write a sexy story, you know. You have to see everything
in the right context. But there's so much more to it. Remember this book has
survived for seven hundred years. How much of today's overly explicit
literature do you think will remain in ... say fifty years?"
He
refocuses on his canvas. "Filippo? Head to the left, please?"
They hear
thumping footsteps outside the door, and Boyd comes into the studio, like a
whirlwind, slightly out of breath, deep frown. They all look up. Filippo
automatically covers his crotch, suddenly feeling exposed, revealed, and shit,
ugly again.
"I've had
it up to here!" Boyd grumbles and indicates a point in the air a couple
of inches above his head. "I'm going to quit!"
Tin-tin
rises and runs to him and hugs him. Boyd pushes him rather unceremoniously
away, but then grabs him by the arm and leads him back to the couch and flops
down, pulling Tin-tin down beside him.
"What is
it now?" Martin softly asks.
Boyd
blows out air, like a horse snorting.
"It's the
same shit as always, only more of it. The jealousies, the arrogance, the bitchiness,
the stupidity. I've told my agent to get me released from the contract."
Tin-tin
regards him with worried eyes behind his glasses. "What will you do for money?"
Boyd
slams the back of his head against the leather. "Anything! Just not this!
Besides, I'm not a good actor anyway."
"That's
not entirely true", Martin protests. "Actually, you're brilliant at times.
You're in the wrong show, is all."
"Not for
long." Suddenly it's like he just noticed the shrinking, uncomfortable boy by
the window. "Hey, Filippo", he nods, shakes off his gloom and comes over to
look at Martin's canvas. Watches it critically for a moment, then smiles from
ear to ear.
"Yeah",
he laughs and jolts Martin with his elbow. "You're doing it again! God, you're
so good at what you do! I wish I was as talented as you." Now his gloom
returns.
Tin-tin feels
an urge to change the subject.
"Remember
you asked me about Andy's mum? I think I know why she got so narky."
Boyd
comes back to the leather couch. "Oh? And ...?"
"Andy said
it's cuz his brother was doin' stuff with a man, I don't know who ... well, seems
like he let this man suck him or something to give him drugs, and she wanted to
bust him. The man, not the brother. But she sorta failed and there was no case,
and don't ask me why, cuz Andy didn't know."
"Well,
well. That would explain some of it, I guess. How old is the brother?"
"Seventeen,
I think. And know what? That guy who screws his mum – that's Andy's term for
the stepfather – tried to beat him up. Not Andy, the brother, but he fought
back cuz he's really strong, right? and the stepfather actually had to have
stitches. Andy says it's been hell at home ever since. And he says he and his
brother is sorta campaigning to make his mum get rid of the prick."
Boyd sits
quietly brooding. Filippo, as unobtrusively as he can, is putting his clothes
back on, leaving Tin-tin the only naked person in the room. Martin starts to
clean his brushes.
"Why are
grownups so stupid and mean?" Tin-tin suddenly asks. "They're supposed to be
the smart ones, like, and you're s'posed to listen to them, and respect them
and everything, but how can you, the way they behave?"
Boyd
stares at him, mouth half open, frowning.
"Is that
what you think of us?" His voice sounds bitter.
"Not particularly
you, doofus. The others!"
"And you
have a lot of experience with the others, I suppose?"
Tin-tin arrogantly
throws his head back. "I have ears, you know."
"Oh, such
a wise guy!" Boyd snidingly teases him.
"Better
wise guy than idiot!" Tin-tin almost shouts angrily.
Filippo
abruptly leaps up, hands randomly jerking in the air. "Stop it!" he cries out,
on the verge of tears, "You're destroying everything!"
He runs
to the door, grabs his shoes and like a bat out of hell is out of the room, leaving three flabbergasted faces
looking at each other. Martin suddenly seems to have gotten an adrenaline
injection and on bare feet runs after the boy. Boyd studies his brother, a mix
of concern and resignation in his expression.
"What?"
Tin-tin pouts.
"I think
you, or we, touched a raw nerve or something."
"Oh
shit!" Tin-tin grimaces. "I gotta go!"
He's
halfway out of the couch when Boyd stops him by putting an arm around his waist.
"Not like that! Are you out of your head?"
Tin-tin
collects himself, hurriedly finds his clothes and starts to put them on.
"Stay
here", Boyd orders him. "Let Martin try to ease him down a bit. I think he'll
know how to deal with this."
"I don't
wanna stay with you when you're in such a shitty mood."
Boyd
sighs heavily.
"Sorry. Please.
I'm just out of sorts, I don't mean to be a dickhead. Please don't leave."
He pulls
Tin-tin closer and buries his nose in his brother's hair.
"It's
just ... Sometimes when you're down it's like the whole world conspires against
you. And it makes you forget the good things and just see shit everywhere."
Tin-tin's
hand comes up and caresses his brother's jawline. "Are we gonna be poor again?
Like really?"
"No
idea", Boyd sighs, suddenly regretting his hasty decision, suddenly scared for
the future. A twitch runs through his body.
"No. No, no. Something will turn up. That's
what agents are for."
"Know
what? If you're gonna be out of work, then we can go with Martin to Germany!"
Tin-tin's tries to make his voice sound encouraging, uplifting. "Maybe that's
what you need to feel good again!"
Boyd
snorts. Then sighs again.
"This is
what I need", he mumbles into his brother's hair and tightens his hold around
Tin-tin's slender chest.
***
"I was afraid they were going to fight!" Filippo
sobs into the crook of Martin's neck.
Martin
caught him just as he was about to open the street door, grabbed him around his
midriff and turned him. Filippo clung to him, trembling like a leaf, and is
still clinging.
"No, they
weren't", Martin soothes him. "It's just that sometimes even people who really
love each other need to get rid of some tension."
Filippo,
still vibrating from his distressing anxiety, hugs Martin harder.
"They
love each other", he whispers as if to convince himself. "They do." He draws
his breath deeply and shakily. "And you love them too."
Martin
just rocks him silently, his right hand rests against the back of Filippo's
head. Filippo lifts his face.
"Do you
think ... that maybe you could ... you could love me?"
Martin
can't help but emit a small, soft laugh. "I think I already do, you know."
"But ... ",
Filippo mutters. "Do you think you could maybe ... maybe also love my ... my body?"
A bolt of
lightning passes through Martin's head. He swallows.
"Let's
not go there", he whispers, "we already talked about that." Then he reconsiders.
"In an ideal world I wouldn't hesitate a minute. But we both know what the real
world is like. And now my feet are almost frozen to the floor. Come on, let's
go up to the others. You'll see everything is alright up there!"
Part
Nine
Berlin in
November. The cold wind in from the plains surrounding the city tear through
the streets. People huddle in their coats, shoulders high, stepping fast and
purposeful on their way to and fro.
But some
hardy souls seem not to mind the wind and the cold. Late afternoon, walking
through Tiergarten on the way from the gallery to the hotel, they suddenly spot
a group of young guys – students probably – skinny dipping in a pond.
As on
signal, all four of them stop to watch, not caring whether their uninhibited
glaring makes them look terribly unsophisticated. Tin-tin's feet start tripping
and skipping, and Boyd grabs his arm.
"No way!"
he hisses through clenched teeth. "You're not joining them!"
Tin-tin
giggles, then shivers. "Wasn't going to. I'd fucking freeze to death!"
Filippo
suddenly looks away from the naked bodies and seeks Martin's eyes.
"They're
beautiful", he says. "Why don't the others stare at them like we do?"
"They're
probably used to it", Martin replies. "This is a clothing optional part of the
park. The Germans have a very relaxed view on nudity."
Until now
they've only seen the young men from behind, all of them look more or less slim
and fit with buttocks tightening and loosening, legs spreading and gathering,
as they splash about in the shallow water close to the bank.
"It's
rude to stare", Martin admonishes. "Let's move on."
But as
they get ready to go, three of the guys turn around, small, shrunken genitals
in full view. Except one of them: Even in this
cold, his surprisingly long cock flops from side to side as he comes out
of the water. Filippo holds his breath. Tin-tin whispers: "Oh, wow!"
Even Boyd
and Martin seem reluctant to leave the sight, but finally Martin propels them
along like a herd of sheep.
"My
willy's so stiff I can't walk", Tin-tin giggles to Filippo.
***
Filippo's
fingers alternately caress and clutch the passport in his pocket. His
passport! All his own! The
intoxicating euphoria of sensing the whole world is now open to him mixes with
the nagging fear that this also means responsibility. It means choice. It means
escape ... And his brain clogs up with a growing anxiety: I don't want to
escape! Not anymore! Please don't make me!
With Tin-tin's hand on his shoulder in the
elevator, a recap of this day swirls through his head in a jumbled conglomerate:
This morning's swishy, but very good-looking flight attendant, all he could
think of was an image of this guy being ravaged by a hard cock up his ass ... and
then Martin's paintings in the gallery ... all those naked bodies ... and the way
the curator had looked at him ... made him feel both uncomfortable and gratified,
there was lust in those eyes ... but that man was sort of leering at all of them,
so ... and he wasn't at all attractive, overweight and in a way slovenly, and yet
he had wondered what the man's cock would look like, feel like ... And those men
... or boys, actually ... in the park, why did he feel this strange longing for
them? Because surely they would have sneered at him and ridiculed him if we had
been naked among them ... but even so ... And his hard-on that won't quit, and the
passport in his pocket screaming You can have all you want! You've got
freedom!
Top floor
now. They had checked in before they hit the gallery, but he hadn't really had
time then to take in the surroundings properly, overwhelmed by the strangeness
and newness of everything. Tin-tin hauls out his key card.
Inside,
Tin-tin doesn't hesitate. Filippo gets no time to digest the splendor of the
suite, Tin-tin is all over him, kissing and humping, pulling him down on the
soft carpeted floor.
"I'm so fucking
horny I could fucking die!"
Suddenly
the chaos in Filippo's brain dissolves and he laughs.
"Alsted
should hear you now!" he giggles, then imitates the teacher's voice: "Language,
Martin! This is your last warning!"
"Screw
him!" Tin-tin's tongue shuts Filippo up and his fingers impatiently picks at
Filippo's fly, unbuttoning and unzipping.
They're
still on the floor just inside the door. Pants pushed down, mouths glued
together, hands tightly gripping and frenetically jerking each other's raging
stiffies. Everything is frenzy and urgency, everything is balls desperate to
empty themselves.
Tin-tin sends
a long growl into Filippo's gasping mouth, his body is torn with spasms and he
spews his little fountain of sperm up between them. It tips Filippo over, he
shudders, and his cum joins Tin-tins on their stomachs.
Tin-tin
pulls away and looks down between them, wanting to see the beautiful cock he's
come to love so much.
"Oh,
shit!" he exclaims with a short laugh. "It's on the carpet! They'll kill us!"
Filippo
heavily draws his breath a few times, turns over on his back.
"You
emptied my brain", he murmurs. "Thanks. It was just too full of dicks."
Tin-tin
looks questioning at him.
"I don't
know why, but it's like this whole day has been filled with every cock in the
world ... and now it's like only you", he explains. "And that feels good", he
adds.
They hear
a click from the door, and suddenly Boyd and Martin is standing there, looking
down on them. Boyd laughs loudly.
"Oh, you
horndogs! Couldn't even get as far as your own room, huh?"
Martin
just stares, trying to imprint the image on his brain, wanting to save every
detail for later sketches and paintings, the beauty and the sensuality of it
all making him feel joyous and jealous at the same time.
The boys
scramble to their feet, pulling up their trousers, Tin-tin grinning, Filippo's
face turning a deep scarlet.
"They
close the restaurant in half an hour, so we need to hurry if we want to eat",
Boyd continues. "So I guess you'll have to sit at table in your soiled underwear",
he laughs, "because there's no time for a shower. Oh! You've dripped onto the
carpet! Never mind, let's just get a move on."
***
Their
suite is not of the hotel's largest and most opulent ones, still it fills
Filippo with awe. A small sitting room with deep, comfortable chairs, thick and
soft carpet ... he can't stop thinking about the stains they left on it right
inside the door ... Minuscule kitchenette, large flatscreen TV, and two adjoining
bedrooms with en suite bathrooms. Run-of-the-mill large prints on the walls,
pretty much normal standard as far as hotels go, but to Filippo this seems like
the height of luxury. And it worries him. Because it feels like he's sponging
on Martin, who obviously paid for this.
The
others are yawning and half-heartedly watching a movie, but he is fervently
texting Marion, hoping for an answer to a certain question.
Now Boyd
gets up, stretches on his toes and announces his intention to take a shower.
Unrest starts to spread in the room, Martin is next to follow Boyd. Tin-tin is
getting impatient.
"What are
you doing? Let's go to bed!"
"In a
minute", Filippo answers stubbornly. "I have to find out something. I just ...
need to."
Tin-tin
sighs, starts to wander about, touches everything in the room. Filippo's phone
goes beep twice. He reads. And nods. And looks up at Tin-tin.
"Ok. I'm
ready."
They
shower together, quickly and energetically, no fooling around now, just getting
rid of the day's sweat and crusts. As they're drying off, Tin-tin's curiosity
gets the better of him.
"What was
all that texting about?"
Filippo
thinks quietly for a while.
"I had to
ask Marion how much money I've got", he says a bit reluctantly.
"Why?
This is on Martin, don't you know?"
"Well ...
that's it, in a way. I wanna pay my share. I don't wanna be a free-loader."
"Don't be
daft. He invited us, right?"
Filippo
sighs deeply. "You don't understand", he finally says. "And you don't have to.
Just forget it. I'll talk to Martin in the morning." He starts to put on a fresh
pair of boxer briefs.
Tin-tin
looks disgruntled. "Don't!" he whines. "We're sleeping naked! We always sleep
naked!"
Filippo
stops with his underwear pulled halfway up his thighs. "But this is all so ... so
strange ... so foreign. It felt like I should put them on, like it was the right
thing to do."
Tin-tin
just grabs the elastic and tugs the offending garment down. "Come on! I wanna
do it on the bed instead of on the floor!"
***
Tin-tin
pushes Filippo on his back across the wide bed, climbs on top of him and lowers
his whole body down onto the smooth and faintly glowing territory of skin that awaits there. His tongue tickles
Filippos earlobe, then down his neck, lips kiss and suck at the hollow above
his clavicle. His groin thrusts rhythmically against Filippo's, he feels that
gorgeous cock grow big and hard, his own cock throbbing, his tongue blissfully
wandering over slick, smooth skin. Filippo's hands caress his ass, thrust meets
thrust, cocks rub and frot together.
"I wanna
do it to you", Tin-tin abruptly says, raises himself up, grabs Filippo's legs
and lifts them.
Filippo
just moans as he feels Tin-tin's breath pass over his cock, his balls, and
further south ... and now the tip of a tongue gently tickles his perineum and
finds its way to his closed, but twitching hole. Softly and teasingly it
flickers across his sensitive opening, then becomes more eager and purposeful ...
and suddenly his head almost explodes as he's back in Felix's bed and the first
time he felt a tongue there, and tears flow from his eyes as he loses himself
completely in the sensation, and a couple of sobs tear through his body.
The
tongue disappears.
"Are you
crying?" an anxious voice asks. "Did I do something wrong?"
He opens
his eyes, sees Tin-tin's worried face, but his words are stuck in his throat.
He just silently shakes his head from side to side, grabs Tin-tin's head and
pulls him in for a kiss, a deep and hungry kiss, a kiss filled to the brim with
want and longing, with abandon and total surrender.
"Put your
dick in me", he says into Tin-tin's mouth.
Tin-tin
breaks loose from the kiss. "What?"
"I want
your cock in me", he whispers.
"In your
butt?" Tin-tin sounds incredulous. "Really?"
"Yes!" he
almost shouts, impatient now. He moistens his fingers with spit, his middle
finger finds his tight asshole and pushes in, moves in and out a few times,
conquering the sharp initial pain.
"Put a
pillow under the small of my back", he tells Tin-tin, "and spit on your dick to
make it slippery."
"Ok."
Tin-tin chokes on the word, his mouth and throat has gone all dry. But now his
head clears, even if his body trembles uncontrollably. He knows how to do this,
he has seen them do it. You push in slowly, a little at the time ... and wait ...
and then move in and out faster and faster, right?
Tin-tin
spits into his fist and smears it on his achingly stiff cock, gets himself in
place between Filippo's raised legs and aims the tip of his cock at the small,
wrinkled hole. Pushes carefully. Then a bit harder. It won't go in. He clenches
his teeth, he's so close to erupting right here and now. He takes a deep breath
and tries again.
"Push
harder", Filippo urges.
He does,
and suddenly his slim cock sinks into something warm and soft and very tight,
and he can't help it: Goosebumps rush over him, his lower abdomen tightens, his
balls churn and his cock throbs and pulsates, and only halfway into this
incredible tunnel he shoots his cum.
"Oh, no!"
he moans. "Not yet!" But Filippo grabs his asscheeks and pulls him further in,
all the way, until he feels Filippo's big balls against his abdomen and his
cock throbs with the last contractions.
"Don't
pull it out", Filippo whispers. "Just go on! Move it in and out a little."
He keeps
it in, tries some small moves. Feels Filippo's ass tighten and relax several
times around his still hard cock. The feeling is incredible even if he just
came and his cock is kind of sensitive, this soft heat around it feels so
unbelievably different than a hand or a mouth, and his cock stays as hard as ever.
Instinctively his movements gets larger,
further out and further in, and now it's like every nerve in his body has met
and gathered in his cock, he wants more, more! ... it's like he can't get it far
enough in, and his speed increases. His thrusts get more powerful, he totally
forgets to be careful and not hurt Filippo, it's like some alien force has
taken control of him, and he grunts as he slams his cock rapidly in and out.
And suddenly he explodes again, whimpering, almost in pain, as deep into
Filippo as he can get.
Filippo
holds him in place with one hand as his other hand frantically jerks his cock
to the finish, his ring muscle contracts around Tin-tins cock, he squeaks like
a small animal when his first spurts hit his chin and the last land on his
chest and belly.
They
collapse together, exhausted and sweaty, and slowly their panting subsides and
a peaceful lethargy comes over them. Tin-tin's feels how Filippo's inside
slowly rejects his now flaccid cock, and it slips out.
"Whew!"
Tin-tin whistles. "That felt ... I don't know ... ace!" But something suddenly
occurs to him, and his face gets that worried look again. "Did it hurt? I just
forgot it could hurt! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"
Filippo's
eyes are moist. His heart wants to climb out of his chest. "It doesn't matter,
because ... because it's you now", he mumbles in Tin-tin's ear. "I don't have to
remember them that much. Just you."
Filippo's
quandary is not over.
He had a
talk with Martin this morning, trying to make him see why it was important for
him to contribute to the travel finances. Not because he doubted Martin's
wallet was fat enough, but because of a vague suspicion deep within him that it
would help to make him belong with them. But Martin didn't seem willing to
understand.
"Nonsense",
he had said. "You are one of us, you've become just as much family now
as I am. And this trip is my treat, my birthday gift to Tin-tin,
and he wouldn't have been happy if you weren't with us."
He had
still felt like a parasite, but in the end had given in and accepted Martin's
suggestion that instead of wasting his money on someone who really didn't need
it, he should spend it on a nice present for Tin-tin. But what? It had to be
something special, something that Tin-tin would feel came from his heart, not
just any old thing from some store.
The four
of them had taken a two-hour guided tour, seen a lot of spectacular buildings
and heard stories told through a scratchy microphone, seen the Berlin Wall
Memorial and the Checkpoint Charlie Museum. They had sauntered through the
shopping streets, mostly window-shopping, and every now and then they had entered
a shop, mainly to get away from the cold wind.
But he
hadn't found anything that seemed the right thing to give Tin-tin. One possibility
had occurred: Tin-tin had stopped, clearly and unmistakably enthusiastic about a black hoodie with the
Brandenburger Tor printed in rainbow colors, but Boyd had beaten him to it and
bought it for his brother.
Now Boyd
and Martin are having a discussion with Tin-tin. Where to eat, and is there a
movie to see? But then, all the films are dubbed in German, aren't they? Tomorrow
they're going home. And he has nothing to give. And then suddenly he knows.
Abruptly he
gets up, excuses himself and leaves the room. Elevator down. Reception desk:
Two things he asks for, gets them and pays for them, finds a toilet and locks
himself in.
***
Some fifteen
minutes later Filippo is back in their suite. The other's haven't moved an inch,
but now they're rehashing everything that's happened during the day and anticipating
the flight home. They stop talking and look at him when he comes in.
"Where
have you been?" Tin-tin wants to know.
He
hesitates. He had planned to get Tin-tin alone for this, but ... maybe all of them
should know about it. Suddenly he feels utterly stupid. What on earth was he
thinking? How pathetic is it possible to get? What the fuck has got into his
conceited brain to think what he has done could be anything besides embarrassing
and make them all uncomfortable? But shit, he needs to do it anyway.
He walks
over to Tin-tin and stops in front of the boy. From behind his back he pulls a
picture postcard and hands it face up to Tin-tin.
Tin-tin
looks at it, then up at him. "The graffiti from the Wall?" he asks, uncertain
about why he gets this.
Filippo
turns red. "I didn't know what else to give you", he mumbles. "Turn it around."
Tin-tin
flips the card over. In the middle of the blank side is a heart, smeared onto
the surface with a red liquid starting to turn brown, fingerprints visible here
and there.
Before
anyone can say anything, Filippo jumps into speech. "It's ...It's like a promise ...
that this is the last time I'll do this." He pulls up his left sleeve. His arm
has a fresh scar, blood smudged around the edges. "I didn't know how else to
tell you that I ... that you are ... that I love you." He hurries over to the empty
chair and sinks down in it, hiding his face in his hands.
"It's stupid,
I know" his muffled voice mutters. The room is very quiet. "Oh please! Say something!"
he begs and looks up. To see three faces with half open mouths and tears
running down cheeks.
"And we
love you too", Boyd whispers, almost choking. And Tin-tin jumps up, runs to
him, throws himself into the chair with him, so hard the chair almost tips
over, and plants kisses all over his face. "It's the ... best gift ... ever", he
says between the kisses.
***
There's a
knock on the door just as Boyd removes Martin's mighty cock-head from his mouth
to let out a long, loud sigh because Martin's tongue is doing magic to his
asshole. Startled, they split up, change positions and hastily wrap the covers
around them.
"What is
it?"
The door
opens a little bit and Tin-tin's face pops up in the crack. "Can we come in?"
Annoyed
sigh from Boyd. "It's not really a good time."
"But we
need to", Tin-tin pleads. "We need help."
Martin
puts his finger to Boyd's lips. "Yes, you can come in", he says quietly.
A naked
Tin-tin, cock at half mast, comes through the half open door, dragging a
blushing Filippo in his black boxer briefs behind him.
"You have
to help us", Tin-tin says earnestly, "cuz we can't make it work. I can't get it
in! And it worked just fine when I did it to Filippo!"
Boyd
lifts himself up on his elbows, frowning. "And this has to be now?"
" `Course
it has to be now", Tin-tin goes on relentlessly, "cuz it's part of my birthday
gift and it's still my birthday, remember?"
"Oh,
Christ!" Boyd moans. "Gimme a break!"
But
Martin looks keenly at the two boys. Moves over closer to Boyd, the bed would
actually be wide enough for all of them, and he pats the mattress in front of him.
Tin-tin sits down on the edge, Filippo stands nervously behind him, obviously
ill at ease with the whole thing.
"Tell me,"
Martin says. "Just how did you go about this?"
"We tried
with a finger first, and it went in, and it didn't hurt much, and I thought I
was ... you know, ready for it? But when we tried for real, it just wasn't
possible. So what do we do wrong?"
Martin strokes
Tin-tins cheek. "This is your first time, right? You see, you need more than a
finger to open up and be ready. Your sphincter needs to be persuaded to relax,
and that takes time. And you need lubrication. Lots of it. What did you use?"
"Spit.
What else?"
Martin
reaches for a tube that sits on the shelf beside the bed.
"You need
this. Spit's no good."
"It
worked when I put mine in him!" He indicates Filippo with his head.
Boyd
suddenly throws himself into the discussion. "Your dick is only half as thick
as Filippo's", he growls.
"But..." Tin-tin
tries logic: "I can get turds that are really massive out, so why can't
I get a cock in when I really want it?"
Boyd
groans again. "I give up."
"Please",
Tin-tin begs, "it's important! Please show us how to do it right!"
Martin
looks at Boyd. Boyd looks at Martin. There's suddenly a lot of tension in the
room. Martin's eyebrows are raised. Boyd suddenly laughs. Grabs his brother and
pulls him down on the bed. "You sneaky little scamp!"
"I could
always get that fat bloke at the gallery to help", Tin-tin sniggers cheekily. "He
almost ate us."
"God,
yes!" Martin agrees. "He was fairly drooling!"
"But
listen, Tin-tin." Boyd is serious now. "Don't you think you and Filippo should
be on your own to find out about this? I mean, why would you want us in on it?
Honestly?"
Tin-tin gives
this a long thought. "Maybe because I love all four of us and I like it when we're
all together, so why not with this as well? I think it would be really boss,
cuz you two are so good at it, and you would know how to make it happen. And I
want it! I want to have Filippo's cock in my butt! If you can put Martin's cock
inside you, I don't see why I can't do it with Filippo!" Almost a whine, this
last uttering.
Boyd sighs
again, heavily. "Filippo", he says. "Please come over and sit beside us. And
then tell us how you feel about this ... this thing that Tin-tin
suggests."
Reluctantly
Filippo moves closer, but remains standing close to the bed. "I don't know what
I feel", he eventually says. "I want Tin-tin to be ... no, I want all of
us to be happy, but I don't know how."
Boyd and
Martin exchange glances again, Boyd looks worried.
"Can we stop
squabbling?" Tin-tin is getting impatient. "Will you help us or not?"
Before Boyd
has an answer ready, Martin pulls Tin-tin up on top of the sheets, his back
against his chest, an arm around his belly. "Yes", he says, efficiency seems to
be the clue now. "We'll help. Spread your legs, Tin-tin. More than that, wide open!
Filippo, sit down between Tin-tin's legs."
He hands
the lube to Filippo. "Squeeze out some on your fingers and rub it onto Tin-tin's
hole. Not hard, just caress it. Round and round. Softly, right?"
Filippo
complies. He feels the small, wrinkled hole twitch at his touch, like it closes
up real hard. He continues the massage, pokes his finger softly into the middle,
then circles around the opening again.
Martin takes
the lube, hoists Tin-tin further up against him so he can reach his target, and
now he squeezes out another dollop aimed at Filippo's fingers close to Tin-tin's
puckered little hole.
"Now you
can very carefully begun to push one finger in. Just stab gently and feel if it
gives. And Tin-tin, my little darling, push out almost as if you try to take a
shit. You already managed one finger, right? So just do as I say."
Tin-tin
grunts as Filippo's finger slips in. Boyd is sitting up now, intently watching,
his fingers start to fondle his cock, hidden by the covers.
"Now very cautiously start twisting your
finger around and push it deeper in." Martin's hand strokes Tin-tin's stomach, he
whispers in Tin-tin's ear: "We love you. If it hurts a little, don't fret. Just
relax. Soon it will feel fantastic."
Boyd
suddenly takes hold of Filippo's wrist. Guides his hand gently back and forth, adds
a little twist. "Like this", he says softly in Filippo's ear.
Filippo's
heart is thundering, blood pounds in his ears. His cock is painfully hard and
squashed the wrong way in his tight boxers.
"Next time
you're almost out, add one more finger", Boyd whispers. Filippo swallows hard,
his throat feels like sandpaper. He gapes to loosen his tight jaws. Tin-tin squeals
as he pushes two fingers in, and Boyd holds Filippo's hand still.
Martin
tightens his grip around Tin-tin's chest, nuzzles his neck and whispers
soothing words in the boy's ear, feels the slender body give in and relax.
Filippo's fingers start to move again, aided by Boyd's firm grip.
"That's it",
Boyd encourages. "Nice and slow."
Filippo
squirms. Swallows twice, trying to moisten his throat. "My dick hurts so bad",
he almost squawks.
"Just go
on doing what you do now", Boyd mumbles. "I'll help." He lets go of Filippos
wrist, crawls out of the covers, and with his now raging hard-on in full view
gets behind Filippo, lifts him up until he kneels between Tin-tin's, and under
the cover also Martin's, legs. Like a caress Boyd's hands glide over Filippo's
hips, taking his boxers with them, slowly pulling them down to his knees, and
Filippo's released cock springs forward, sways up and down in the air before it
stands still, slanting slightly upwards. A relieved puff of breath escapes
Filippo.
It's the
first time Boyd sees Filippo aroused, and he's mesmerized. Instinctively his
hand closes around this bewitching protuberance, explores its thickness and its
length, and shivers run down his spine.
Filippo's
free hand grips Boyd's hand hard. "Don't!" he growls. "I don't wanna cum yet!"
"Yes, you
do", Boyd whispers in his ear. "Then you'll last longer when this starts for
real. Trust me." And he bends down, face close to the steely spring of meat, his
tongue flicks a couple of times across the piss slit, then around the retracting
collar of foreskin, and slowly, slowly he lets the whole length of the cock
slide into his mouth as deep as it goes. His tongue moves along the underside as
he relentlessly increases the suction.
Filippo's
whole body quivers and quakes, he holds his breath, his cock palpitates and
pumps and rewards Boyd with six hard shots of boy sperm. A long shivering
breath of air explodes out of him. His cock suddenly feels cold as it leaves
the warm mouth.
Boyd
takes hold of his hand again. "Don't stop", he says. "Feel how warm and soft Tin-tin's
inside is."
Filippo twirls
his two fingers around, and Tin-tin moans where he lies on top of Martin. "I
can take one more finger!" His voice is strained, but clear. "I can!"
Filippo, head
clearer now and concentrated on his task, looks sideways at Boyd. "It's like he's
lined with silk", he says in wonder. "Amazing." He pulls his fingers almost out, and now three
fingertips push gently at Tin-tin's hole, twirling and prodding, one by one
slipping in, twisting the opening larger, and now his three fingers are in almost
up to the second knuckle.
Tin-tin
grits his teeth and whimpers. Martin rocks him very tenderly. "Are you ok with
this?" he whispers. "You know you can stop it whenever you want to."
"It's
doesn't really hurt", Tin-tin moans, "but it feels so weird. I'm scared I'll
shit all over you!"
Martin
laughs softly. "You won't." And he stirs and changes his hold on Tin-tin. "Turn
around. Lie down on me on your belly", he tells him.
Tin-tin
lifts himself off, Filippo's fingers slip out. He turns and swipes away the
sheets that cover Martin, looks over his shoulder at Filippo. "Look at this!"
They all
look. Martin there, exposed, half lying on his back, neck and shoulders against
the headboard, legs spread and that terrific cock up along his flat abdomen,
the tip reaches way past his navel. Filippo's feels like something heavy falls all
the way through his chest to his stomach. He wants it. He wants all of this,
all of them, all the naked skin, all the beautiful dicks, all the ... It's like
an ache and it threatens to choke him.
Martin
pulls Tin-tin down on top of him, embraces him and holds him tight. "This way it'll
be easier for you to take Filippo in", he whispers in Tin-tin's ear.
And Boyd grabs
the lube and pushes Filippo forward, again he takes hold of the boy's wrist,
applies more lube to Tin-tin's hole and guides Filippo's hand to the target. "A
little more with the fingers now", he instructs.
Tin-tin, spread-eagled
on top of Martin, expecting pain but determined to go through with it, feels
the intrusion. But there's surprisingly little pain, and the strange and
slightly uncomfortable feeling of having to go to the toilet leaves him. He feels
Martins cock move under him, and Filippo's fingers plow into him, slowly and carefully,
and suddenly his whole body tingles with sensation, and anticipation, and the knowledge
that soon, soon he will know what it feels like to have a cock up his ass, and
not just any cock, but Filippo's ... and overwhelmed by everything his lips seek
Martin's, suck onto them, and his throat squeezes out a pinched moan. His cock
that has stayed soft all through the initial exploration of his butt now rises
against Martin's skin, he squirms and twitches until it lies next to the whopper
beneath him.
"Now!"
Boyd whispers to Filippo, gets in behind him and puts an arm around the boy's
chest. Pushes him down and forward, takes the boy's cock that again is stiff as
a board in his hand and steers it to the point where the fingers now are on
their way out. "In you go!" he whispers and kisses the boy's neck, the arm
around the boy's chest now finds and teases a nipple. Filippo must plant his
hands on the mattress on both sides of Tin-tin not to fall flat over him.
Tin-tin
feels a sudden emptiness when the finger's leave him, but now something
different pushes against his butthole, something that feels bigger and rounder
that those fingertips, and instantly a rush of panicky goosebumps flow over
him. Martin feels how Tin-tin's body stiffens, his hands caress the boy's back,
his mouth opens and sucks in the boy's tongue as Filippo's cock stabs and
pushes and with a hard thrust slips through the sphincter. A half-choked whimper
echoes into Martin's mouth, and then Tin-tin throws back his head and a growling
wail escapes him as the sharp pain tears through him.
Boyd puts
both hands on Filippo's hips and hold him still, watching Tin-tin's tense body
and Martins face, hearing Martin's soothing voice whisper sweet words in
Tin-tin's ear. And gradually Tin-tin seems to relax, his head again resting in
the nook of Martin's neck.
Filippo's
brain has taken leave, his body feels numb and at the same time more awake than
ever, desire and lust prickle his skin and boil in his blood, but there's
another feeling too, something huge and soft and enveloping ... and it's not just
this amazing warm and tight silken tunnel that envelops half of his cock, it's
something that wraps his whole body, even his soul, in velvet ... and he's filled
with a yearning to please this boy he's about to enter, to love and cherish
him, and at the same time there's an immense urge to slam his cock ruthlessly
in and bury it as deep as it gets.
And now
Boyd presses against him, he can feel the stiff cock against his buttocks,
pushing him forward, into this moist and hot cave, he can hear Boyd's breathless
yes! and Tin-tin's moan, and it's not a moan of pain, and he loses
himself completely in a sea of unrestrained passion.
"I'm in
you!" Filippo cries out. "Tin-tin! My dick is in you!" And his hips start to
move without him willing them to, his cock slides almost by itself slowly in
and out of this incredible silk-lined glove that encloses his cock. He lets
himself down until he feels Tin-tins skin on his belly and his chest.
"Yes! You
are!" Tin-tin pants under him. "It doesn't hurt anymore", he grunts under the weight.
"You can go faster."
Boyd
lifts Filippo up a bit. "Rest on your elbows," he says, "or Tin-tin will be squashed."
Martin
has another idea. He pushes Tin-tin up off himself until he rests on his hands
and knees. Nods with his head towards Boyd, who gets what he means. Filippo's
upper body is lifted off Tin-tin's back and wrapped in Boyd's firm embrace, now
his cock in Tin-tin's ass is the only connection, the only point of contact. And
Martin crawls in under Tin-tin and swallows the boy's cock.
Filippo
has no rational thoughts left. His cock does all the thinking, thrusting in,
pulling out, and each time he pulls out, Boyd's hard cock presses against his buttocks
and urges him in again. Faster, harder ... and suddenly he feels the opening of the
wonderfully moist and tight tunnel clamp hard and rhythmically around his cock,
he hears Tin-tin's breath turn almost into sobs, and he can't hold back, he
rams his cock in as far as it gets and shoots ... and shoots ... and shoots all his
adoration and devotion and sperm into the boy he loves.
"Oh,
Jesus!" he hears Boyd's voice behind him as he collapses over Tin-tin's back. "Martin!
Now!"
Tin-tin flats
out on the bed, Filippo on top. Filippo is almost unable to move, his body
feels overloaded with love, with tenderness, with gratefulness, and he kisses
Tin-tin's neck, shoulder blades, spine, all his lips can reach from where he
lies.
Tin-tin wriggles
himself out from under him, turns over on his back, wanting to kiss Filippo,
and bumps into his brother who is also on his back now, legs in the air, hand
closed around Martin's cock, aiming it at his asshole. Tin-tin nudges Filippo,
he lifts his head, and together they watch Martin's monumental cock sink and
disappear into Boyd. Filippo, even in his spent state, gets the shivers from the sight.
The boys
sit up, enthralled, fixed on the spectacular scene in front of them: Boyd's ravishingly
beautiful body totally surrendered, Martin's small and sinewy form that makes
his cock look so impossibly big, their total absorption in each other, the
seamless way they move together, so synchronized, so completely united.
Tin-tin
looks at Filippo who is totally absorbed. Touches his shoulder, leans towards
his ear.
"This is
a bit crunchy", he whispers, "cuz we haven't asked if we can watch. Boyd says I
always have to ask."
Filippo
jerks as if he is jolted awake. "But ... but Boyd sucked my dick ... and he didn't
ask!"
Tin-tin
muses over this. "True", he finally says. "So do you wanna suck him?"
"I don't
know ... Maybe ... but I don't know how, I never did it."
"You just
put it in your mouth and suck on it! Like a lollipop, you know? Just make sure
your teeth doesn't come near it. Wanna try?"
A relaxed
Tin-tin pulls the apprehensive and trembling Filippo even closer to the men. "Touch
it", he whispers.
Filippo
nervously reaches out and brushes Boyd's cockhead with two fingers. It jumps at
the touch. Boyd opens his eyes, gazes at him, says nothing. Filippo leans
closer, wraps his hand around the curved shaft, watching Boyd's face for
approval. Boyd meets his eyes, opens his mouth, and flexing his neck and
closing his eyes again lets out a loud sigh. Martin holds Boyd's ankles and
moans softly as he bends his head backwards and thrusts his pole in and out of Boyd's
warm inside.
Filippo closes
his grip a little firmer, runs his hand up and down the shaft, feels the impact
of Martin's thrusts, marvels at the softness of the skin and the hardness
underneath, just like Tin-tin's cock feels, only much thicker. About the same
thickness as his own, but it feels so infinitely more exciting to touch Boyd's
dick than to touch his own.
If only
he could stop trembling, if only these waves of pricking down his spine would
stop! He bows down over Boyd's cock, his lips hover just above it. Tentatively
the tip of his tongue touches the head, shiny with moisture, tasting the
transparent fluid that seeps out from the slit. It doesn't taste bad, doesn't
taste very much at all, and he feels more confident. He lowers his head and
opens his mouth slightly, lets the top of the head touch his lips.
"Oh,
Jesus, that's so hot", he hears Martin grunt and suddenly he feels a hand
on the back of his head, gently urging him down. He closes his eyes, opens his
mouth wide and lets the hand push him down until half of the lovely cock is in
his mouth, and the pressure stops. He holds still, his tongue moves cautiously
around the unfamiliar object, the taste is a little stronger now. He shivers
like he's freezing, and slowly moves his head up a bit, then down again. He
closes his lips tighter and feels the cock twitch. Lifts his head again until
he feels the ridge of the head against his lips, and now he sucks a little harder
a couple of times, like Tin-tin told him to do. He hears Boyd moan, and a hand
caresses his jaw, a finger follows his lips where they close around the rod. He
holds still again, senses how Martin's thrusts move the cock just a little bit
in and out of his mouth. He shudders. He pulls off and gasps, realizes he's
been holding his breath.
And a
memory grows large in his head. He knows what he should do now, he moves his
head down towards Boyd's tight balls. Martin seems to instantly sense what he
wants, he pulls his cock almost out to give him room, and Filippo homes in on
that place Felix taught him felt so good, his tongue tickles and teases the skin
just behind the balls, then swipe over those silky globes, and back again. He
fills his eyes with the sight of the massive cock that's halfway sheathed inside
Boyd, moving just a little bit, and every time it moves out, the skin around
it, the skin of Boyd's hole, is drawn out like a small collar. His tongue wants
to go there, he can't resist. And Martin's loud moans resound in his head as
his tongue bathes the place where the men are joined.
Suddenly
he feels something cool gently press on to his asshole. He looks up over his shoulder.
Tin-tin is there behind him, standing on the floor beside the bed lubing his
ass, finger going effortlessly in, and instinctively he moves so his knees rest
on the edge of the mattress, and his hole is accessible to the boy behind him.
He sighs and dives down again to that incredibly hot place his lips and his
tongue need to explore again. The sting he feels back there doesn't seem like real
pain, just a little burn, and he feels Tin-tin's slim dick enter him and he
pushes out to let it slide all the way in.
His mouth
feasts on skin, his hand finds Boyd's curved cock and caresses it, his other hand closes around the base of
Martin's fat intruder, moves about to feel two slick and heavy balls, comes
back to envelop the shaft again, and Tin-tin's lovely dick slides in and out of
him ... Fleshabel! his brain screams. It
can't get more fleshable than this!
Tin-tin's
cock has just found that place inside him that feels so ... so weird and so overwhelming,
and a low and gurgling sound, almost like a strange song, is born in his throat
and he can't stop it, it rises through him as his stomach ties itself into a
knot and his lower body trembles and explodes in waves of immense pleasure, and
his cock throbs and hammers to shoot out every last drop his now almost empty
balls have in them.
He falls
over, loses his grips, the cock inside him disappears, and in his exhausted
trance he just feels how the bed rumbles and shakes, and as from far away he
hears deep voices, men's voices, cry out and moan and whimper. His brain is a
void, his body is drained, but his heart beats with a thundering certainty and
an all-consuming satisfaction he has never known.
And now
arms enfold him. Many arms. Arms that feel like he belongs in them. And his
ugly faggot soul is at rest.
The End
My other
stories on Nifty:
"Mr. Marshall
stops running" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/mr-marshall-stops-running/
"The Crushing
Colors of Love" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/the-crushing-colors-of-love/
"My Blood
sings in Bendik" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/my-blood-sings-in-bendik/
"The Sound of
his Footsteps" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/the-sound-of-his-footsteps/
"The Tower and the Maze" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/the-tower-and-the-maze.html