My birthday was celebrated in big pump today, that is on September 9th (do you remember?), even if I'm born on May 5th. Odd, isn't it? Well, all my life, at least to now, has been odd. You ask me why? Right you, my dear Gualtiero? You who are but one of the few who know my secret. Yes, it is true, I never told you about my life, except in bits and pieces... Now, the time has come when I will tell you about it in order, from the true beginning to now.
Well... I was conceived between 3 and 3:30 p.m. on August 7th 1811. Yes, people rarely know these things but I can be sure about it. On that day, at about 4 p.m., my father was killed by the police. And, until that day, he was in jail. He had just escaped and wanted to meet my mother whom he had not seen for two years... While he was leaving home to hide, police intercepted him and ordered him to surrender. But he tried to flee, they shot him and...
Why my father was in jail? He was a professional thief, that's why. But he he was not very clever and was caught... I knew very little about him, only what little that my mother told me from time to time. According to her he was a really handsome man... and she was in love with him, therefore... Well, I know that you too think I am really handsome, and you too are in love with me, aren't you?
Therefore, as my mother was a honourable woman, I could only have been conceived just in that span of time. My mother repeated that to me quite often. If just my father didn't try to escape (he had just one more year to be in jail), I would not have been born and he would probably be still alive. But my mother never did consider me a burden or throw that in my face. She was a kind woman, my mother. She was a washerwoman. Her hands were rough from the soap and the water, but her heart was kind...
My childhood, even if poor, had been really serene as I had my mother's love, and could play with the street urchins. Then my mother, at cost of no little sacrifice, sent me to the public school. I was good, I had to repay her sacrifices and make her happy. I was studying seriously -- but not too much, because I was lucky to have a good memory and also a rather good intelligence... Well I am not trying to praise myself, this is what the teachers told me and finding in me a good pupil, instructed me as it should be.
When I was thirteen, my mother died. So an aunt, my mother's sister took me in. But she had already four children, so she made me stop going to school, she couldn't for sure afford that.
Aunt Clarissa was a good woman, even if somewhat rough and brisk, and in her way, she loved me. What astounded me in Aunt Clarissa was her memory about my father -- different from my mother's memory. She thought he was all but a good man. One of her sentences really hit me: "He could remain inside one more year, that stupid boy, so he would not have left your mother widowed and without support. And then, going to see her just after escaping ... to tell the least, silly. He had to know that the police would have looked for him right there, didn't he? He could have continued doing it with his jail mates one more year... done thirty, he could do thirty-one!"
At first I didn't understand what my father could continue to do with his jail mates and when I asked my aunt, she brusquely answered "playing cards". But my cousin Paolo, who was then eighteen, he was the elder child, later explained me in detail what they did amongst jail mates... and he explained to me also that, being my father was one of the youngest (he was just twenty one when he died): "to play the girl was almost certainly him..."
It is not that I didn't know that amongst men it is possible to do such things... I heard talk about it, amongst quips and jests, by my street mates. I just never thought that my father could have done those things, and that thought hit me deeply.
You say you can imagine it? Bah, it's possible... I just know that I brooded over that for a long time, days and days. What made me more curious, now that this fact entered into my life in so personal a way, was how would it feel doing it with another male. It is not that I knew what one could feel doing it with a woman, I was still completely a virgin, at that age. No, not even alone, you should believe me, not yet. I didn't remain so for long, but...
My father, my hero, had made love with other men for two years. I don't know why, but I didn't have any doubt about that, not even for a moment. This thing didn't trouble me at all, my father remained my hero, I just never before saw him in this light, so I was deeply impressed.
At that time I didn't at all think that he could probably have to bend to a necessity, or to non-written rules of these places. But just that he did it. With his jail mates. For two years.
My aunt sent me as a help boy to an innkeeper. Each Saturday she passed to take my salary. The innkeeper was a sprightly and cheerful man, and had three children. The elder, Timoteo, was twenty-one years old, than came Bartolomeo, nineteen, and last Dalia, sixteen. Dalia worked in the kitchen with her mother. She and Bartolo were both "carrot-hair". I don't know why, but I never liked people with red hair or hairs. For sure Bartolo was more well shaped, both his body and face, than Timoteo, but I liked Timoteo much more, with his dark brown hair and olive skin.
Timoteo was likeable, cheerful, witty, and never pulled my leg. He and his brother, served in the inn with their father. I washed the jugs, cleaned the rooms, from time to time emptied spittoons and ashtrays. In short I was the scullery-boy. Every day it was thirteen hours of strenuous work, with little pause in the dead hours. On Sundays, the inn closed, so I could rest a little. But I didn't feel the work to be heavy at all.
During the few breaks, I liked hearing the funny stories that Timoteo told with an amusing mime, laughing at his witticisms. While looking at him. I had the impression he did it all for me, but now I simply think that this is the skill of a good narrator -- to give to everyone in his audience the impression he is talking just for him, to him...
Be as it is, I was fascinated by Timoteo. I don't know how many times I thought I would have liked, growing up, to become like him. For sure I could not even dream to become what I am now...
One day, I was working there for a little more than one year, as soon as the inn closed at evening, Timoteo asked to his brother if he was going to take a bath with him as usual.
"No, not today, I have to go, I have a date." Bartolomeo answered with a cunning tone.
"Me too, That's why I wanted to wash..." Timoteo protested, "who washes my back if you go, who helps me to rinse?"
"Well, tell Giorgio to stay a little more to help you, can't you?" his brother answered, leaving.
Timoteo looked at me: "Hey, tell me, would it bother you to stop and to help me?" he asked with a gentle tone.
"No, it's all right." I quietly answered. If it was Bartolomeo who asked me, I for sure would have answered him that I had to go home. But it was Timoteo asking me, the kind Timoteo, and I was happy to be useful to him.
So I went to the back room, where his mother and his sister had already prepared the tub like every Saturday evening. Timoteo undressed. It was the first time I saw him naked (to tell the truth it was just the first time I saw a man naked, besides my street mates when we went to bathe at the Serpentine, but they were of my same age, just boys like me) and I looked at him in fascination. His body was lean, proportioned, with tufts of thick hairs on the right spots.
But what impressed me above all was what was hanging between his legs. As much he was bigger than me, so much his tool was bigger than mine! It was the first adult tool I had ever seen. I clearly remember that I felt tempted to try its consistency with my hand, to touch it. And I also remember that I thought that if, like mine did at time, that tool became erect, how huge it could become!
He entered the tub and started to abundantly soap his body. Then asked me to soap his back and rub it thoroughly with a brush. Meanwhile he was merrily humming.
"Are you going to see your girlfriend, tonight, Timoteo?" I asked then, knowing that there was a dance party on the square.
"Yeah, and if all goes right, I'll do something more than just see her... She promised me!" he answered cheerfully.
"Do you mean that..." I asked, guessing what he meant.
"Yeah, that's why I wash -- she likes doing it only when I have just thoroughly washed... She is a fussy girl..."
"Do you mean that you and her... already did it?"
"Eh, sure! She likes this!" he said turning towards me and showing me with pride his virile attributes. I widened my eyes - what I had asked myself just a little before, was now under my eyes, majestically erect and throbbing, barely covered by a thin layer of white foam...
He noticed my look and laughed. Taking it with his hand and lightly waving it towards me, he said: "It is natural she likes it, isn't it? Feel here how hard it became just thinking about her..."
Shyly, but irresistibly attracted by that prodigy of the nature, I stretched my hand and seized it - it was firm, hot, really big and agreeably slippery because of the soap.
"What do you think, eh?" he asked me, proudly.
"It is... beautiful..." I murmured making my hand slip back and forth on that tool, on instinct, to better feel all its consistency. It was incredibly pleasurable.
"Hey, stop, if you don't, you will make me cumm now, and I want to save it all for her..." he said, pulling away my hand but laughing, "Anyway..." he added, "do you know that it seemed me to almost feel her hand on it? Who knows if also your lips are sweet like hers?"
I blushed. He laughed again, and then said: "Go on, rinse me, now..." I readily obeyed. He went out of the tub, dried himself vigorously brushing his body with a hemp towel, and wore freshly laundered clothes that were ready on a chair. I emptied the tub and tidied all. He thanked me and went out...
I went back home. I felt like dazed, I liked very much touching him there, feeling its hardness, its vigour. For days and days I thought about what had happened. After that, when at work I was looking at Timoteo, I couldn't avoid throwing a glance between his legs, where a sweet swelling suggested the mass of his virile attributes. And then it was like if I saw him again naked, as if I touched him again; and mine, even if still so small, woke up and pushed, imprisoned under the fabric of my clothes.
No, Gualtiero, at that time I was not yet conscious it was sexual drive... at least I didn't yet interpret it as such, at that time. I simply liked seeing it, touching it, even if still naively. I hoped to be able to see it and touch it again... even if I thought it highly improbable.
And instead...
One day, I was already almost fifteen, I saw Timoteo oddly dark in its face. At first I asked myself if he was upset with me. Did I do something that made him mad at me? I didn't think so, but...
Profiting on the opportunity when he asked me to go to the cellar with him to bring some beer crates upstairs, I asked him.
He sketched a bitter smile: "No, Giorgio, it's not you, at all. Just... she told me she is going to marry another, therefore she wants to stop doing it with me."
"But... how? Didn't she made love with you?" I asked, amazed.
"Well, we touched each other, she also kissed it, but she never let me put it in. Anyway it was really great. And she also made me cumm, with her soft little hand. Soft and warm, like yours." he said sadly shaking his head.
I looked at him with sympathy, I was sad seeing him so dejected. I asked: "Do you miss her?"
An he: "Of course I miss her. You know, it is not the same, alone... You cannot understand me... Do you do it, alone?"
"What?" I asked, even if I did understand. In fact at times I did it, for some time, that is since a mate showed me how to do it. But, besides that first time, I did it always alone... don't make that little smile, now...
"To make it become hard, then to continue until you cumm. But, tell me, do you already cumm?"
"Well..." I said and blushed, then nodded yes.
"Yeah. But it is different, alone. Really different." he said with a thoughtful tone. Then suddenly, as if he shook himself, he said: "And now, doing these speeches, it became hard, look here!" and pointed me between his legs, pushing his pelvis a little toward me - it was more than evident. I swallowed, staring between his legs, fascinated by that generous swelling. It seemed to me it was palpitating as if animated by his own life... He looked at me with an odd glance. Just for a short moment. Then suddenly... no, Gualtiero, nothing yet happened, that time.
Suddenly, I was saying, he said, seriously: "Well, let's take the crates upstairs now..."
No, it is not that I was disappointed, I didn't yet hope for anything. I told you, I was still rather naive, at that time.
A few days later, he asked me again if I could stop to help him with his bath. I don't remember why that time his brother didn't bathe with him. I willingly accepted, so I could see him naked again, and I liked the idea very much.
This time he had it already hard and erect while he was undressing. He soaped himself, I soaped and brushed his back, then asked me to pour the warm water on him to rinse. When he turned towards me, I saw that it was still gloriously erect.
He noticed my admiring look and smiled: "You see how hard it is? And unhappily, I can't satisfy him, this time. Touch it, feel how hard it is!" he invited me, lightly pushing his pelvis towards me, I didn't need to be begged, I took it in my hand. I felt it. He again smiled and said: "This time you can also move your hand up and down, because anyway... tonight I do not have to keep it for somebody..." I complied. He let me do it for a while, then whispered: "You have a gentle hand like she had... hold it tighter, and go faster, go on..." I did as he said. He closed his eyes.
"Is that all right?" I asked him, hoping he was satisfied with me.
"Yeah, it's all right... but... but she also gave it a lot of small kisses all over... " he murmured without opening his eyes.
So I bent and put my lips on it. The contact was pleasurable. It had like a jolt. I kissed it over and over again on all its length and felt he was enjoying that. I too liked it.
"Oh, Giorgio... good... so... you are almost better than she was..." he said with a low voice, then said: "She also lapped it, she liked licking it."
Without any problem, I started then to lick it. At first almost shyly, but then with more and more assurance, also because I noticed that the more I did it with all my tongue, the more he seemed to like it.
And then the final act of that evening was consummated. I felt him vibrate like a violin string, tense, quiver, tremble, and at last from the tip of his vigorous rod spurted jets and jets of iridescent drops of a pearl like colour. I looked, admired, stupefied, enchanted by that prodigious gushing -- nothing at all like the few drops I spread at the top of my solitary pleasure moments!
When I understood that the charge was exhausted, on the shining and tense tip, remained only one pearl that flickering shone. I stretched out the tip of my tongue and picked it, and for the first time I savoured the taste of the manly liqueur.
Timoteo caressed my hair: "Thank you, Giorgio, you have been great. Not even she was so good..." he said, filling me with real pride.
He said nothing more, he did nothing more. But I felt really excited and happy for all that happened. I felt the intensity of Timoteo's pleasure, and I liked the sensation to have been the author of that pleasure.
For some days nothing more happened. But I felt that between us was born a kind of intimate relationship. He looked at me in a different way, I now looked at him with different eyes. His smile, when addressed to me, had a special nuance, warmer, more personal. I don't know if it was just my imagination, but this is what I felt...
An afternoon, in a moment there were few customers, his father told Timoteo to tidy the cellar. He asked me to go with him. When we were down there, we at once started to put all in order. But at a certain point, he took my arm and drew me in a corner, behind a tall leap of crates, putting the lantern on a barrel.
With an accomplice smile, and a low voice, he said: "Giorgio, would you please do again for me what you did the other day, after my bath?"
I nodded in assent. Sure I would do it, and willingly. He smiled, pulled it out, and I bent on that fabulous rod, to make him happy. I liked that so much!
After a while he said in a whisper, with a persuasive tone: "Take it in your mouth, now... all of it... suck it, go on..." Without problems, I complied. For me it was even more pleasurable than before, and I was aware that it was for him too. He started to move it back and forth, and caressed my hair. When he started to quiver, his voice low, hot and hoarse, said: "Don't pull away, Giorgio, drink it all." and kept my head against his groin.
I prepared myself to receive that savoury liqueur whose musky taste I already had a hint. I knew very well, it would soon gush out with abundance, generously. His intense tremors were more and more rapid and longer; they excited me incredibly. And finally I drank, drank with big sips the nectar that he was feeding me, and I felt like I was intoxicated.
When all was over, he tidied himself, then girdled my shoulders with his arm and asked me: "Did you like it, Giorgio?" I nodded and blushed for the happiness. He added, smiling, "Well, then we will do it again, right?"
"Yes..." I murmured.
That was the beginning. We met rather often, in different places. And after a few times I met him in that way, one evening he brought me in the little wood that is between the inn and my home. He made me lower my breeches, and he penetrated me for the first time.
No, it wasn't really pleasurable for me that first time, I had difficulty not to scream, not to try to escape that powerful rod that was opening me, invading me. But I wanted him to be happy with me, so I resisted the pain, also because I thought that I was feeling what my father had felt... The following times it was better, and little by little even good. I liked it more and more... Also him...
No, Timoteo doesn't love only men like us. In fact he got another girlfriend. He talked to me about her, when he did it with me. He said that he liked doing it both with me or with her. Then he married. No, not with that girl but with another. Anyway he continued with me, but less than before.
Well, yes, I was somewhat jealous. First of his girlfriend then of his wife. But now I liked it too much and I understood that if I wanted to continue with him, I should not make fuss with him.
After his marriage, Timoteo sometimes for weeks at a time didn't do it with me. I missed it. I would have liked doing it more often, of course. When I was sixteen, I met the one who was to become my second man. He was a usual customer of the inn. At that time he was twenty one year old. He often came with his elder brother, but at times also alone. His name is Lorenzo. Sure, right, him. He is the same age as you, you know that. Yes, he is a really handsome man, isn't he? I liked him. I started to watch him, to observe him. His father was a hides' merchant, therefore he had some money. He was always well dressed. His trousers of good flannel, tight as it is in fashion, allowing me to have a glimpse of the sweet, generous roundness between his legs, and therefore to fantasize. But for sure I would never dared to let him know that I liked him.
How did it happen? Well unlike Timoteo, women never appealed him, just boys. So, little by little he became aware of me. He liked me, he started to greet me, to smile at me, to treat me friendly, to tip me if he had an occasion and excuse for doing so. And finally, one evening, while I was going back home after the closing time, I saw him sitting on one of the stone wayside posts of the road crossing the small wood.
"Good evening, master Lorenzo..." I said stupefied, for in fact I knew he lived at the other side of the village.
"Good evening, Giorgio..." he said standing up and coming towards me with a smile, "Are you going back home?"
"Yes..."
"You must be tired, I guess."
"Not so much, Sir..." I said, with my heart strongly beating. Well, Gualtiero, at sixteen I was not as naive as before. The fact that he was clearly waiting for me, in that isolated place, made my fantasy gallop. Certainly I couldn't be sure he was there for what I hoped, but...
"At night, the wood is fascinating." he said.
"Yes..."
"Not far from here there is an ancient chapel..."
"Yes, Saint Mary Magdalene... it is almost a ruin, now."
"I would like to see it again, in night time... can you take me there? Is that a burden for you?" he asked me with a smile.
"Willingly, master Lorenzo. This way, come." I said taking the narrow lane entering in the wood. I knew those places like my pockets, having played there for years. And he had been waiting for me right at the beginning of that lane, therefore he too had to have known of those places. When we arrived at the chapel, it was lighted by the third quarter of the moon. He waved for me to sit on the low stone wall. He sat near me.
He pulled out his overcoat and folded it on the wall: "It is a good weather, not cold at all, isn't it?"
"No, it is a warm Autumn, this year." I said.
"It is beautiful, here, quiet. And the moon light is silver, I like it very much."
"Do you come here often, Sir?" I asked.
"At times. But it is the first time I have come here at night, and not alone. It seems almost more beautiful with two..." he said and took my hand. He barely squeezed it. I answer to his hold. He put his arm around my waist, pulled me at him and kissed me on my mouth. That was my first kiss... I liked that feeling.
Then he whispered to me: "I like you so much, Giorgio..."
"I like you too, Sir..." I said, filled with emotion.
He kissed me again and caressed my body. I quivered. He slowly started to open my rough fabric shirt. I was excited, blood hammered in my temples. I stretched out my hand and put it on his nice, warm, full and firm packet.
He parted from me, took his overcoat, spread it on the grass and simply said to me: "Come..."
Soon we were both completely naked, and he was kissing me all over my body. It was so good, that I tried to imitate him. Our limbs intertwined, wrapped, searching each other - I never before felt so excited. It was the first time I was completely naked, lying with a man to make love. I liked that immensely. When I turned over, filled with desire, offering myself to him, I felt his desire to be so strong, he made me turn round again. Somewhat disappointed, thinking he didn't want to take me, I looked at him.
He smiled and asked me: "Do you want me inside you?"
"Yes, sure... if you too want it..."
"Yes, I desire you. But not from back. You are too beautiful, I want to look at your face, while I make you mine..."
I don't understand. Timoteo always took me from my back, kneeling or standing up, and I didn't guess it was possible to do it in another way. He gently guided me into the right position, and finally I understood and just the thought excited me even more.
"Now I will enter into you, Giorgio..." he said with a light of sweet desire in his eyes, starting to push.
"Yes, please..." I begged, emotionally.
Well, Gualtiero, just love was missing to make that night perfect. He rode me for a long while, smiling at me, taking and giving pleasure at once. His belly brushed against my erect and tense member, joining pleasurable sensations to pleasurable sensations. While he was taking me, he caressed me, teased all my body, in the most sensitive points. That night's silence, was singing...
Well, it was a really special night. No, silly man, now that I have you, I have no nostalgia. You know I love you, don't you? But what in my past has been beautiful, remains beautiful, right?
So, we started to see each other, quite regularly. In secret, of course.
Who did I like more? Lorenzo, without any doubt. But I also liked Timoteo. They were very different. Timoteo more impetuous, Lorenzo more gentle. But, you see because I didn't feel love for any of them, it was good for me to continue doing it with both of them, the one not knowing about the other, of course. No, I simply felt they would have been jealous of each other.
Even if it was not me to directly experience it. No, at that time Lorenzo was not yet in love with me. He fell in love when he met Giacomo. With Giacomo, not with me, even if at that time he didn't yet know it... Well, you don't fall in love with just a body, right? Evidently Giacomo has qualities I don't have, at least in Lorenzo's eyes. As I have qualities in your eyes, right?
My third man, it is almost not important. Yes, if you want I'll tell you also about him, all right. His name was Terenzio. He was thirty two year old. No, he was not a customer of the inn, he was our ale's provider. He came once per month from the town, with his wagon.
Terenzio was big and stout. No, not fat at all. He was married and had four children, the elder just two years younger than me. He had to marry his wife because he made her pregnant... she was the sister of his boyfriend of that time. Yes, he did it regularly with both, without her knowing. No, later her brother went in the Navy, so they didn't meet any more.
Not at all, Terenzio came at once to the point with me, without any roundabout speech. On a Sunday morning he came to our village for the marriage of a relative of his wife. He saw me in the church and winked at me. I knew him, I didn't mind it - I took it just like a greeting from afar.
But while we were going out from the church, he came near me smiling and said: "What is your name?"
"Giorgio." I said, stupefied he did not remember.
"Ah, sure, Giorgio. You too are invited to the marriage party?"
"Sure, the groom is our distant relative. We are all relatives some way or other, here at our village."
"Who knows that we too are relatives, then!" he said laughing aloud, then he told me: "Listen, Giorgio, do you want to earn a silver coin?"
I looked at him with interest - I never had a silver coin all for myself. "Sure." I said.
"Come with me, then..." he said. I followed him. He took me behind the church, we crossed the old cemetery.
"Where are we going?" I asked, out of curiosity.
"To the fishermen's huts."
"Why are we going there? There is nothing, nobody, there."
"That's it." he said sibylline.
We pass three or four huts, then he took me inside one which was more withdrawn than the others. He pulled out the silver coin and handed it to me.
"What for?" I asked taking it and turning it in my hand in admiration - how did it shine!
"You now will be kind with me, right?"
"Kind? How?" I asked without understanding.
Then without a word, he simply pulled it out and started to beat it with his full hand. Well, at that point it was clear what he wanted. He pushed on my shoulder with his big hand, making me crouch in front of him, and brushed my lips with its tip. I did what he desires, without any problem...
After, I asked him: "But if I said no?"
"I saw how you do look at men between their legs. I know your kind. And in fact I was not wrong. And you are also skilled, not everybody is ready to drink it... You like cocks, don't you?"
So... After that Sunday, some five, six more times. And each time he gave me a silver coin... Sure I liked it, or else I would have refused, for sure, silver or gold coin be it. It was always a fast thing, I think that when he came to look for me, it had been some time since he had sex because he cummed quite fast. No, he never asked me to put it in my back. I think I would have accepted... you know that I am somewhat... a little pig, don't you?
You are so sweet... Surely not! You know that after we fell in in love, nobody else appeals to me, don't you?