Date: Fri, 08 Feb 2008 15:45:32 +0100
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: The Life Weel 01/15 (High schhol)

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

THE LIFE WHEEL
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2008
written on October 1, 1991
translated by the author
English text kindly revised by The Australian

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

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE LIFE WHEEL" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic
scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family,
opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to
read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or
because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed
guest.

"This story is about the evolution and revolution of love.
It is written in a concurrent time style.
Events and their effects are related through the eyes of those that love".

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

CHAPTER 1 - Matteo 1

Who knows when and how all this started?

Usually, in our memories, there is one episode we consider to be the
beginning, but is it the real beginning? In my case it seems that it
happened when I was fifteen. It was cousin Edo.

We were in bed together in his country house. He touched me, made me
feel his state... and then he took me.

I let him take me. Silently, not to be heard by the others in the house.

It was as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Possibly it really was the most natural thing in the world. Or was I
just ready?

If that is the case, as it probably was, it didn't really begin there,
in that night, on that bed. But then, when? I don't know.

After that time, I always did it with males. At first I didn't think I
was gay... I just thought I liked it. But then, gradually, I became
aware I was gay and the thought didn't scare me at all.

I just understood I had to avoid shouting it from housetops.

How many men did I have? Not a few!

In the nine years time after that night, I recall Sergio, Renzo, Felice,
Martino... but about and others too I don't remember anything or almost
- their numbers outweighed my memory.

Sergio - I remember him well. We were high school mates. He was the only
non gay friend who knew about me. One day, when we were in the third
year, we went on a school trip and shared the same room.

I liked him a lot.

When we hit the bed, I don't know where I found the courage to do it,
but I told him that I was gay and I would have liked to have sex with
him.

He told me that he was my friend, and that he liked me, but he liked
girls better. I found it funny when he almost apologised because he
didn't feel like accepting my proposal. But I also felt very grateful to
him.

The following days saw no change in him towards me. We were still pals.

We got the diploma for classical studies together. The afternoon when
the results were published, he asked me if I felt like celebrating with
him and his girlfriend.

We had dinner in one of the best restaurants in town. He offered it,
because he didn't have money problems - his family was really rich and
gave him a good monthly allowance.

When we took her home in my second-hand small car, he kissed her
goodnight and got back in my car.

He told me, "Matteo, I don't feel like going back home so soon. What
about going up the hills to look at the city lights? It's a fantastic
landscape, have you ever see it?"

We went up the hills and we found a deserted lay-by surrounded by trees
and bushes, from where it was possible to see the fairy tale view of the
lights of the city below. After a while he got out, telling me he needed
to pee.

I told him an old saying, "He who doesn't pee with his mates, is a spy
or a thief ..." and went out with him standing at his side.

He laughed, "To be right, the proverb goes with 'who doesn't drink'!"

When we got back to my car, he said, "You just wanted to look at my
dick, isn't it so?"

"Yes... and it aroused me." I confessed.

To my great amazement, he landed his hand on my swelling fly and
fingered it.

"Feel me too... make it hard like yours..."

I was amazed at this attitude, but my hand moved to his leg and my
fingers started to feel it's shape through the trousers. I felt it
harden and, without a second thought, I started to unbutton his fly.

He said nothing but went on fingering me. I felt encouraged. I lowered
his trousers with his briefs and he raised his butts to help me do it.
My lips took his hard member.

After a while he made me sit up and he to went down and took me.

We wanked, sucked, caressed each other until I came in his mouth. I
tried to withdraw, but he pushed down with his head and drank all of my
load.

I asked him if he too wanted to come in my mouth, but he asked me if I
would allow him to take my ass. I at once accepted and he took me there
on the car seats, filled with passion and sensuality.

It was really great. He told me he had enjoyed it very much. After that
night, we did it again several times, even though he was in love with
his girlfriend and wanted to marry with her.

During our first year of university we lost touch because he was
studying medicine and I did literature.

The day of my university diploma, June '82, I decided to look for an
adventure to celebrate. I didn't have a steady relationship at that time
and it was months since I'd had sex. So, at night, I toured for a while
in my car.

Along the boulevard, I stopped near a boy standing under a street-lamp.
He looked very handsome. He at once bent to my window, smiled and asked
me for a cigarette.

"I regret, but I don't smoke..." I said, enchanted by his smile and
already aroused.

"Can I sit a moment with you to chat a while?"

I assented. We chatted. I liked him. He was a soldier off duty, and he
told me that he wouldn't ask for money. But neither of us had a place to
indulge our need. He told me to drive to find a telephone box - he would
try to make a call and he could possibly find a place. He guided me to
the apartment of a friend who offered us a drink, and then let us
withdraw in his guest room, after showing us the bathroom. He told us to
do without hurry, but quietly.

The owner was a middle-aged man, the director of a hypermarket, with
whom the young soldier had sex occasionally. In bed the young soldier
was good and skilled. We met some more times, until his military service
came to an end and he went back to his hometown. We still exchange
letter once in a while, but met no more.

As I'm living in a small apartment with my mother, I can never take a
conquest home. My mother doesn't know about me... or so I think. Even if
she suspects something, she pretends not to know. For sure she never
asks me when I plan to marry, as usually all the mothers do. Thus, each
time I found a companion, if he has no place, we have to go out of the
city, in the country, in a secluded and dark spot. So my small car is
something like my gar¨onni¸re (1).

I have many friends, and most of them are not gay. With my gay friends
we go at times to discos, or to a gay bar, but I'm not really a regular
patron of such places. I go often to discos with my straight friends or
to do a tour with them.

A month ago, I finally got a job. I am teaching Italian literature in a
classical high school. I teach in three final classes of that school
from the first to the third and last year. I really like teaching.

Yesterday a boy from year 3, Paolo, asked me if he could call me by
name. I answered he can - after all we are just six years apart. Paolo
is a likeable boy, and his bench-mate, Giorgio, is really handsome and
very attractive. In the first class there are three boys who are openly
gay and they are active in the local gay association, the Arci-gay. They
have guts. Their mates respect them. They are Leo (Leopoldo), Marco and
Stefano.

Marco is the handsomest of them - he is well developed despite the fact
that he is only seventeen. He has a nice mane of light brown hair,
slightly waved, just a little rebel to the comb, thick but well shaped
eyebrows, green eyes, a straight nose, sensual lips and he always wears
tight trousers that let you guess enough to wake up your fantasy. I
would never do anything with Marco, and neither with Giorgio or any of
my students. My rule is never to mix my work with my private life. I
treat them equally, as doing otherwise wouldn't be fair.

A handsome boy, of course, remains a handsome boy and I cannot prevent
my fantasy to undress, caress him, to enjoy his fresh sensuality. For
something serious and steady I prefer to find at least a person of my
age or just one or two years younger than me at most. Marco is really
beautiful, but besides being one of my pupils, he is still only a kid.

I don't think that Leo, Marco and Stefano are having sex with each
other, I think they are just friends. It doesn't concern me. In the
second year there is Marilena, a girl full of life and really clever.
She is the natural leader of her class.

I'm becoming aware that a teacher can easily become a role model for his
pupils. I sincerely never thought I could become a model. Of course,
this is gratifying, but the thought also amazes me. It is a huge
responsibility. I'm also aware that, besides teaching them literature,
these boys are asking their teacher to teach them about life. They
continually ask "What do you think about this?" and they listen to me
with extreme attention. They don't ask you such questions just to waste
time, as some of my colleagues insinuate, but out of a real interest.

They seem to feel me closer to them than the other teachers, possibly
because I am still so young. The fact that some asked me if they could
call me by my name, and my positive answer to their question, can
possibly help to make them feel that I am really caring for them. They
listen to me. If they feel you are listening to them, they open to you,
discuss with you, and trust you. That's why I said teaching is a huge
responsibility.

Out of spite, my colleagues put me on my guard, telling me that 2F is a
difficult and unruly class. Up until now I never have had discipline
problems with them. I think it is enough to make them interested and to
keep their interest well awake. They seem rather fascinated by my
explanations about literature. Let's see, now, if they will also study.
I am still slightly frightened, as I feel such a greenhorn... I feel I'm
being judged by my students, my colleagues, and by the Dean. I'm not
afraid of the students' judgement, because they are fair. I don't have
the same impression about my colleagues. Madam Dean? Well, we will see.

The students of the third year put me to the test from the first days.
Clever questions, at times also controversial.

"Our teacher of the past two years told us that..." and then as a
conclusion, "Do you agree?"

I always answer them quietly, giving my reasoned opinion, but avoiding
any polemic.

My magic sentence is, "... this is my thought but with so many heads,
there are so many views. Who can say who is really right?"

Marinella said, "All the points of views are to be accepted."

I retorted, "No, some points of views are absolutely unacceptable. For
instance the points of view of the racists."

Then Franco said, "But the racist aren't even worth an ounce of
respect!"

And I replied, "I can't agree. As a person they too are worth respect,
their ideals aren't. We have to make an effort to separate a person from
his ideals. We can fight and condemn a point of view, never a person."

Furio said, "It's also written on the Gospel."

Rino, who is the son of a judge, at once said, "But judges have to judge
and to condemn or to acquit. Therefore what the Gospel says is not
right."

"A judge has to judge a certain action and he has to acquit or to
condemn according to the law. But he has not to judge a person as such.
You see, it is like when I check your tests - a 3/10 mark means that the
work you have done has a really small value, but it doesn't at all means
that the student who got that mark has a small value. In the same way,
an 8/10 mark means that the work has a great value, but not that who did
it has a great value." My explanation persuaded them all.

Last week, it was the students of the second year who put me to the
test. Gianna, in her test composition, wrote that respect is due to
parents and teachers, because of their role. Her mates at once started a
discussion and, as I foresaw, they asked my opinion. They were expecting
from me an official defence of the authority.

But I said, "I require your respect (and I saw plenty of little faces
that were thinking "what else could you expect from him"!) and I
underline the word 'require'; but not because I'm older than you, in
fact there are older people doing things that do not deserve any
respect; neither because I am you teacher, in fact there are teachers
whose work deserves very little respect; but I require it for two very
simple but important reasons. The first one is that I am a human being,
and all humans being deserve respect. The second one is because I am
respecting you, so you have to respect me. Moreover I require of you an
additional kind of respect. Possibly a more formal one, and that is
while I'm explaining you a lesson. In fact on that occasion I am
carrying out my duty, and a person's duty is always worth respect.
Anyway, this second kind of respect ceases to be due when I'm not
carrying out my work with you. Therefore it remains just the first two
kinds of respect, that are the most important."

I passed their test with full marks! I'm now waiting to be put to the
test by my students of the first year. Who knows what will they do, and
if I will pass also their test? I hope so.

My Mother is really proud of me, but it is known, Mothers are generally
proud of their children. As the proverb goes, "to the sow her filthy
piglets are beautiful". After meeting the parents this attitude is often
more than evident. They come above all to hear plenty of good things
about their children. There are also some quite rare exceptions.

At the last Parents-Teachers meeting, I scandalized a couple of parents
who had long said only bad things about their daughter Nadia.

At a certain point I exclaimed, "That's a real misfortune!"

As I guessed, the parents said, "Yes, really, we are unlucky with our
Nadia."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean that. I meant that Nadia is really unlucky having
parents like you, who seem not to be able seeing anything good in her!"

Full-stop, next line!.

I am sure that these parents are now considering me as less than a
mouse, even though in my opinion mice are really likeable little
animals. However, it has been useful for me to listen to them - I can
now understand the poor Nadia and her problems a little better. I can
now possibly help her more than before.

When Stefano, during my first week in this school, told me with a
challenging expression that Marco, Leo and he are three gay activists, I
felt the desire to answer him, "I too am gay", but could not tell him.

I answered him, "I always have a deep admiration for anyone engaging and
fighting for his beliefs and that it is totally apart from the fact I
agree or disagree with them."

I got the impression that Stefano was a little disappointed because, I'm
rather sure, he hoped to start a polemic.

Then Leo asked me, "Would you allow us to have a debate here in the
classroom about the rights of sexual minorities?"

"Surely not during schooling, as learning is your first duty, but if we
were in advance of our studies program, we can usefully spend a couple
of lesson time for the matter you are proposing or what others can
propose. I believe that a serious discussion is always a highly
formative thing, when avoiding any polemic. A discussion is formative,
in my opinion, when each person does his best to understand the points
of view of the others, and not try to convert the others to his own
point of view. As sexuality is a basic component of the human being, it
never is a futile subject, if we are able not to treat it
superficially."

Then was Marco to intervene, "Nothing does scandalize you, professor?"

It was clear he was referring to homosexuality, but he didn't say it
clearly, possibly hoping to catch me out.

"The loss of love, of respect, does scandalize me. Selfishness and
dishonesty scandalize me. I'm scandalized by violence, be it physical or
psychological. Hypocrisy and lying to harm the other is a scandal to me.
Racism and discrimination are a scandal. As you can see, there are
plenty of things that can scandalize me. Really a lot."

Thinking over this discussion, it could possibly have been the test the
1F students put me under. Who knows? Between the three gay students,
Marco Olivero, besides being the handsomest, is possibly also the
cleverest. Leo is the son of a hospital head Physician. Stefano is the
son of a toys wholesaler and Marco, the son of a metal and mechanical
worker. It seems that Marco is not keen about studies. I think he
attends the classical high school only because his father wants him to
reach a better level than his own.

For the moment he gets just the minimum marks to pass, but I am sure he
could easily get the best marks, if he was a little more motivated. I
asked him why he doesn't put more enthusiasm in his studies. He answered
that he didn't want to become a bookworm and that he preferred to have
more free time. He possibly is not so wrong, but he could perhaps put
some more enthusiasm into his studies. I will urge him to love studies.
This is also true for the other of my students.

Tonight I have a date with Renzo. He is a twenty-three years old boy I
met at the gay bar last week. I feel attracted to him and would like
having an affair with him. Who knows if he feels attracted to me too? He
can possibly like me, even if just for a friendship. It is not assumed
that a person goes into that kind of relationship with sex as the only
outcome. It is not said that just because two people are gay and like
each other that they must automatically have sex.

Anyway I'm really attracted to Renzo. He is a student of Russian and
German at the university. If I'm correct, he lives alone in an attic,
but he hasn't invite me to go to his place yet. Possibly I'm not his
type. I will see tonight.

My mother always asks me where I'm going, and when I'll be back. She is
not controlling me, or being nosy in my life, she simply likes being
part of my life. I feel sorry having to tell her lies, at times, but I
think that if I didn't I would just give her suffering. Or would she
understand... No, I think she would accept me, because she loves me, but
she could not understand. All her generation, I think, is not able to
understand gay life. But possibly also my generation, even though it is
more open-minded than the previous one. After all, asking to be accepted
by the others isn't a sign of not being self-confident? If the others
don't accept you... all the worst for them. Or am I wrong?

I haven't come out to my mother out of respect, out of fear, of
cowardice, or just for the sake of peace. I haven't told her anything,
but I am content with it.

I really don't know how one can have the right to judge the others when
it is so difficult to judge ourselves. Don't judge if you don't want to
be judged. How can you say to another let me take the piece of sawdust
out of your eye, when you don't see the log in your own eye?

My boys at school understand it, if their teacher has the patience and
skill to explain it to them. Will they continue understand when they
grow up?

Being a teacher is fascinating and engaging. Unhappily too many of my
colleagues see it just as a job, just as a means of bringing home a
salary. They are like voice recorders repeating always the same lesson,
like computers checking the right answers and scoring them... but they
aren't really able to communicate with their students. Good teachers are
like Professor Dusio, my splendid maths teacher in high school. Teachers
like him are rare. Will I be at his level, be a good teacher as he was?
I hope so... my students deserve all my engagement and efforts.

It's funny, my thoughts sway between my role as a teacher and my being
gay and are they two different dimensions or it is just one? Well, no, I
don't mean in their essence, but for me... being a teacher and being a
gay person are two different things, that's evident, and yet I am both
of them. There is absolutely no relation between them, and yet they are
not separated inside me. I mean, I don't feel a teacher between 8 a.m.
and 1 p.m. and in working days, and gay between 8 p.m. and 1 in the
night and in holidays. I'm happy to be gay, I'm happy to be a teacher...
Possibly the most important thing is that I'm happy to be Matteo Cordero
della Rocca, born on April 10th 1958.

Anyway, right now, I'm just interested in making it to tonight, meeting
Renzo and possibly, who knows, having sex with him. And in being a good
lover for him or possibly just a good friend. And Monday morning I will
be interested above all in being able to give to my boys and girls
something useful, something worthwhile. To me it is important to do the
best I can. In that sense, there are no differences between my being a
teacher and being a gay man.

"Professor, what is the aim in your life?" Luisella of 2F asked me.

"To try to be better tomorrow than I'm am today. As a son, as a friend,
as a teacher... as a man."

"But... and not becoming famous, rich..." asked me Daniele.

"Yes, and possibly also beautiful!" I answered him, and everybody
laughed. "I'm not particularly interested in that. What's the meaning of
being beautiful, famous and rich, if you are not loved, respected and
above all have no self-respect? No, the real fame is the respect you get
from who knows you, the real rich is the inner one, the real beauty is
that of the soul."

"Do you believe in soul?"

"I believe in a spiritual dimension that makes of me something slightly
different from a cat."

"Also cats can have a soul."

"If they have one, it should be a cat-like one. Ours is a human-like
soul. What distinguishes us from the other animals is our ability to
love... even an enemy."

"Then, you think that who is not able to love his enemy is not a real
man?"

"He isn't a complete man, I'm convinced of that."

"But to love one's enemy is masochism."

"No it is recognizing in him a human being worth our respect and our
love as much as I am worth. And also not to think to be better than the
other, but to know I am limited as much as he is. It is not to be slave
of the situations, of the contingent things, to be free, in one word."

"Therefore, according to you, we have to let our enemy overwhelm us."

"Not at all, because we have also to love our selves. We have thus to
avoid him not to be overwhelmed by him. I am not saying that it is easy,
but very seldom good things are easy. Being a real man is very good, but
it's not easy at all. We have just to do one step at a time, without
ever feeling we are arrived, but not either feeling we are too far and
thus become disheartened."

"Very few people share your way of thinking, professor."

"I don't think so. But anyway I am not scared. Any ideology is always
born from one or a few people - if there is somewhat good in it, it will
be gradually shared by many and get success, otherwise it will just be
forgotten. I'm not afraid of being part of a minority."

When we first met, Renzo asked me, "Are you happy being gay?"

"I'm happy being Matteo, and Matteo amongst other things is also gay.
I'm simply happy for being, of existing. If I were straight, I would
possibly be happy to be straight, and if I were a woman, happy to be a
woman."

"Oh, no, please, not a woman!"

"You say so just because you aren't one. Of course, if one of us were a
woman, we now would not be here together. And I'm really happy being
here with you. Being happy with what one is, even though one has to try
to improve himself, is the basis of being well."

"I too am glad having met you..." Renzo said.

But he didn't suggest that we should make love although he possibly
expected me to propose it. But I like it better that way. I prefer it to
being asked straight out "What do you like better doing in bed?" When in
a disco a guy approached me exactly with this question, I answered him,
"To sleep. I like doing the other things also standing, in a car, on an
armchair, between the bushes, on a desk or in a shower and, why not,
also on a bed, just to tell some of the possible places." And he asked
me, "Where would you like doing it with me?" I looked at him and
answered, "Here, in the middle of the dancing floor. But we cannot, we
would end in jail. Therefore... there is nothing we can do." He got the
message and left me in peace.

For sure he would have thought I was an idiot. He could even have been
right, who knows, but I really don't like that kind of approach. It can
possibly be caused by shyness, so, to overcome it, one becomes
aggressive. Possibly that guy didn't appeal to me enough to accept also
his kind of approach.

I also get annoyed by the people who, even before they greet you or just
after, place a hand on your fly and finger you. They can possibly be the
ones who get a bigger success, but I like to flatter myself that who
comes with me doesn't see in me just a sexual toy, a kind of an animated
dildo.

It is this that attracts me to Renzo. Also because he is handsome, of
course. Not really beautiful, and possibly not even really handsome, but
he shows an inner beauty that appears through his smile, his eyes, his
words. I'm not falling in love with him, but I really like him.

In a few hours I will meet him... I hope. It would be good also just
becoming friends, but I would like, sooner or later, to make love with
him. Renzo... I don't even know his family name. But I love the way he
smiles. Who knows why the first thing I notice about a person is the way
he smiles?

Marco, for instance, has a really beautiful smile. If he wasn't one of
my students and if he was some four or five years older, I think I would
court him in a ruthless way. Who knows how he will he be in five years?

Students are like the water in a river - they flow away, just touching
your banks, but they flow away, one after the other, one year after the
other, until they plunge into the sea of life, far away... and to the
banks they remain but a memory, washed away by the new waves of students
who again brush against you in their fast run towards the sea. If there
were not for banks, those waters would be dispersed in a dead, sad
quagmire and would never reach the sea.

It is good being just the banks - sea exists somewhere, thanks to the
river banks. The more those banks are sound and not subject to
landslide, not muddy, not filled with silt, the more those waters reach
the sea remaining pure and clean.

***

(1) Gar¨onni¸re is a French word for "bachelor pad".

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

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 2

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

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

http://andrejkoymasky.com

If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English
translations, so that I can put on-line more of my  stories in English
please e-mail at

andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

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