I lost my heart in Taormina
Introduction by Ramon Gandarian
This story is about the struggles of a very young Sicilian music student whose sexual identity is arousing. Giovanni is a Sicilian youth. He lives in Taormina during the roaring twenties of this century. His father owns a small grocery in this little town and is a typical Sicilian family father, aged around forty, has a balding head and firy brown eyes. All in all he is a stout nervous little round man, your typical grocery man, standing behind the counter on short curved legs, wearing a green apron. Because of course, except on Sundays when he goes to church clad in a dark suit with a descent tie, wearing a hard hat, he wears over his cordury trousers and his hand woven pullover a long green apron reaching down to his loins. For his clients he always has funny joke on his lips. He loves watching “calico” at the tele and even played, in a team when he was in his roaring twenties and likes to talk about theses times, the victories his team carried off against the team of the adjoining town of Castelmo. But on Sunday afternoons, after the nice, extensive lunch taken “en famille”, he spent the afternoons with his friends and the priest, Don Alfonso, playing la petanca in his gardens.
His son is so different. He has curly black hair, almond shaped dreamily brown eyes. He is very gifted for music but has difficulties to finance his studies and is under the spell of his fathers’ petty bourgeois prejudices. In his unconsciousness he is like many of us bisexuals are now, is struggling against prejudices and false religious barriers, especially in this nineteens century, when the church, whether catholic or protestant, had the saying and when there prevailed a particular chauvinist attitude of small Eliases everywhere. Of course there were then too as today unscrupulous sex tourists who profited of the situation and it was particularly difficult to be able to discover your special sexual kind until you finally could come out. But then you were out of the society both materially and socially. But he is lucky. He finds his angel, too.
But now read what my friend Thierry has to narrate you.
Now, I feel so outrooted.
I am in my room. Marco has just told me that he is Billy’s new friend. And what did he do, Billy, my brother, of whom I am in charge! I sigh. I can't continue composing the flute quarto I received the commission to write for our duke. I can't concentrate. The window is closed, but I can still hear the birds singing in the archdeacon's garden just below my window. I hear the loud speaking and laughter of the company he, that is Albert, has invited for a cacoa party. And all the time I hear the high pitched wonderful laughing of my friend, like the rumble of lost stones being thrust down a steep river basin, after he has told one of his jokes in his low pichted melodious voice. And then I think how it was yesterday evening, when we were sitting under the high willow tree in front the singing fountain. His lips are so large, moist and soft, when they stroke my own lips. His tongue splits my lips, penetrates into my goatee, strokes the skin down there and my buttocks feel his left hand caressing and pinching them. And then, when I kneel down, bending my tough Armani’s jeans, through the bandages I wear now after I have been aggressed, I feel as if I was making holidays in my chevaliers' arms. All the same, I think, I have the power of Siegfried, kneeling before him, licking his prick and my whole body is being put in a swinging state by him. My head is being pressed unto his hairy breast, and I lick his nipples. Just as if I was his slave being raped by him, my master! But I recoil, I don't want to think of these my lean instincts, I plunge my head into my pillow, trying to avoid these sounds. Still I can’t overhear his laughter through the thick feather of the pillow. I sob. I so much like this state of helplessness, of my body no longer being under my own control though I so much feel thwarted in my self-consciousness.
What will I tell my father, I wonder? He, who is president of the Church Counsel in our little town! What will I tell him when he learns that Marco, the English clerk, or Secretary of the count of Lauderdale, is the fag of Billy and will return to England whenever the count will be called back by his father to take over his estates and leave Billy behind, alone and without selfesteem? This clerk is penniless and depends on the count to live. And he has neither a nice figure nor any polite manners. And he always stands between my Lord and me, prevents him to have time to see me. On the contrary, he had and still has all the time an affair with Billy. Billy my most beloved brother! Of whom my father entrusted me to care. But I needed him to make the acquaintance of the count, whom I loved just having seen him walking on the streets. I sat nearly each evening under his balcony, looking up to him, who was smoking his long, curbed English pipe, smelling lovely after horse dung. So with the help of Marco and abandoning Billy to him who loves small boys still playing with sand, who has green eyes and long pitch black hair I gradually wrought my way into the life of the count because he had made it quite clear to me that he would only introduce me to the count if I let him keep Marco under his custody.
I got to know the count, this red haired, blue eyed, skinny Albert, who is supposed to be here in Naples to learn how to sing perfectly Neapolitan arias, but who is after each young dick in this kingdom, very intimately, for sure. He lives at a palazzo, directly opposite the formers king's palace. There there are all old furniture, tapestry with mythical scenes. Behind the palace there is a court, cut down trees, meadows, patches with roses, tulips. In the midst there is a big broadly jutting out tree. We sat on the bench down there. Just besides us a fountain murmured and the birds were chirping and twittering. He led his arms around my shoulders; I was still holding back and he seemed for me to be my grandfather, about 10 years older. Sideways I looked critically up at him. No, he was not ugly. He had fair hair turning to red, a straight nose, brown eyes, with long eyelashes, a small reddish beard. He gripped my chin, and his hand pulled my head up, till I was looking sideways from below into his eyes. His mouth bent down and his lips touched my lips. I shuddered, felt my prick getting harder as he kissed me. I felt his hand on my lap, felt him rubbing gently and let myself getting excited. Gently he helped me stand up. He gently pushed me towards the door, into the big staircase with the black marble stairs. There were small angels of plaster, kneeling and sitting on the small ledges, smiling while exposing their nice thighs and asses. When we came to the first landing, a naked Apollo of white marble was looking on to us. His hands were outstretched, the right outwards to the right, bending towards the soil, the thumb struck up to the ceiling, the left outwards to the left, bending upwards towards the ceiling, the thumb struck upwards. And in his lap, this massive, wonderful, lap with well designed blue arteries, his prick was throbbing, hard, stiff and thrusting forwards.
On Apollo's lap
The count stopped, directed me towards the statue of Apollo who stood nearby. I was admiring the loins, thighs, and breast of this statue in marble, and he explained me how it had been conceived and told me all about this Greek artist, Phaidos, how he made his statues without painting any hair, not even pubic hair, on it. This was quite pleasant for me on the first vision. He pulled me towards this statue; I was quite smaller than him, with my black hair and blue eyes. He put both his arms around my shoulders, turned me so I looked towards him, upwards to his visage. Then he pulled my whole body upwards, my body huddled to his body, till I stood on tiptoes and his knee rubbed my lap, all the while kissing me on my lips. Holding my shivering body even more to him, he then pushed my trousers down and my already moist, marblewhite back towards the outstretched prick of the God and I felt the marble as it penetrated me from behind. I cried and tried to get away from this hard and cold marble thing, which was hurting me, but my body was sort of hanged on this big impressive jack jutting out from the naked, shaven lap of the marble statue by Phaidos. The marble rubbed into my hole and out of it and I got more and more wet, and it no longer felt as pains. I swung my ass around to make it feel better. I sensed that I like being pierced from behind and that it excites me. But something was still missing. Yes, a thing which could fill out my front hole, my mouth, the producer of my bad speeches. I bent down with my waist, trying hard to reach out to his prick with my mouth, and soon my arms reached around his waist and my wet tongue sucked his hard prick and felt how it was beginning to fill out my mouth like a big mountain. I sensed that his penis would soon be as strong, thick, big as the Gods one, sticking out of a hairless, perverse lap, like the one the marble God had and fill my mouth completely to eject his princely semen into my inner body.
Ooch - finished to pleasure - but more and better is to come
But he stopped me abruptly, just when the tension was building inbetween my own prick. I winced. But undisturbed, he gripped me from under my thighs and pulled me out of Apollo's prick. I heard him mutter: “That's for tonight, the definite ejaculation!” and I shivered thinking of what he wanted to do with me in the next few hours. I like being molested while excited and I muttered it into his ears while he pressed my head to his head. He said nothing, but his smile was answer enough. We went further, entered a door on our left into his bedroom. But I still did not know yet, we had to have such a lovely afternoon and night together, using his large, over-large four-poster bed, and the night thereafter the help of Apollo on the landing! I imagined being gagged, tied up with ropes, staying with wide strechted legs between the outstretched legs of the God. The thumb of the right hand of Apollo which looked down towards my head under his loins was stuck in my mouth, the thumb of his left hand streching up between my thighs, the God's prick sticking again in my wet asshole, being whipped every hour during the whole night on my upper thighs and between the thighs, where my skin is particularly soft, and being milked by his right hand. At this illusion my excitement grew again and I felt white warm wet pearls on my acorn.
In Count Albert's bed I lie (not only)
Embracing me, he gently led me into the chamber. I was awestruck. I still remember how we stood breast to breast in the high spacious room, not being able to utter words for I was awed so much. My looks went around, on all the naked little boys climbing around in a frightening, dark jungle, showing their nice laps, their pricks, their asses and further upwards, hanging on the painted ceiling, sectored by big beams, all gilded with gold. In the caissons between the beams angels flew. They were completely naked, hung up by cables, exposing their legs and behinds. Were they of plaster, I wondered to be able to fly, to reek with their bodies and not to fall down? Like these angels that are flying in these big baroque cathedrals! I looked again and then I gasped. They were real living boys in their teens, hanging down from the ceiling on strings bound around their ankles, their legs, their calves, their thighs and knees which were so well exposed to the strokes of the whip of Count Albert, especially their feet with the soles looking downwards. Such a temptation, I thouth: to lick their small pricks, to lick their untouched calves, their untouched thighs, to penetrate their little tight asses with my fingers! And especially to stick my tongue into their tight assholes! By they were flying much too high up. I could not reach them, unfortunately. We went into the room. I was gently pushed by Count Albert’s arms on my shoulder until we stood on the bed in the midst of the room. Then he stopped me, turned me around till I stood before him, and kissed me again and I couldn't resist the temptation to kiss back and soon we are entangled, he put his leg between my leg and moved it gently around up and down rubbing my jack till I felt my prick stiffen under my clothes. We were now sexually excited. In a great hurry we unclothed each other he embracing me all the time. The high windows were wide open, letting in the warm air and the sound of the twittering birds. But I couldn't resist any longer to the temptation of the flying angels, I jumped up and reached at last the calves, the thighs and especially the sexy feet, toes and soles of these living angels hanging deep down in their ropes. I so much longed to lick all these parts covered with juvenile tender white or brown skin! I couldn't stop at it, while licking them, I smiled, laughed, felt my prick getting more and more excited. He let me do, but again suddenly stopped me, just as I was licking the foot soles of one particularly nice Ganymed, with a perfect white skin, a brown birth mark on the right ankle, fair hair and blue eyes looking amorously down at me, and I was about to suck the quite big and stiff prick belonging to the legs and head of this as I thought very young angel. Again I was angry at being disturbed, I stuck Arthur with my fist which didn't impress him and didn't harm him anyways. He faced me lifted me off the bed, put my feet on the floor, pulled me over until my back was towards him and marched me through a hidden door into the toilet. I just could glimpse the face utterly frustrated and aroused Ganymede presented me with and swore to me to get back as soon as possible and finish my duty to him.
We got together under the bucket of cold water, each clinging to the others nude skin to remain warm. Then we shaved each other, in our laps, around our dicks, over our loins, our thighs, shanks, calves and the toes of our feet, over our arms, his arm muscular and mine lean. Each shaved the behind of the other, penetrating the slit with his fingers, forcing its way into the asshole, widening it, till tiny white drops came on and lubricated the holy entry. But my pubic hair remained and I was quite astonished. Then we spoiled an expensive perfumed cream everywhere on our bodies. Then we went back to the room, under the eyes of the excited Ganymedes, lied into the high large four-poster bed, one besides the other, clinging one to the other, as if the bed was about to tumble over and embracing each other. I was putting my broad dark red lips upon his thin, nearly bloodless ones, my tongue feeling about the skin between nose and mouth, over his chin, and then investigating his hollow cave. And then while he struck my body with his palms, my and his tongue came together, in my throat. I licked his whole body commencing at the neck, wetting his flat stomach, his lovely razed thighs, loins, and sucking between the legs, feeling the sourly sent of the asshole and the acid white seamen on the top of the pricks till the whole white, sauce went down our goatees!
Whoa - At last my punishment - how prickling
I fell asleep, curling towards his body, feeling his soft shaved skin, happy and tired. I had asked Arthur to give me the nice blue eyed Ganymed, the one I had aroused first and he had unfastened one of the ropes and let him drop gently to the floor, I called him and he went to me on all four limbs, like the slave he was supposed to be. I saw how his eyes were fiery and asking everything of me. He jumped on our bed; laying before me, inbetween Count Albert and me. Again, we licked our whole bodies. Again he changed position, turned around, so astonishingly flexible his body that his head faced my lap and my head faced his hind thighs, his buttocks and his rose in the split of the ass. We sucked, licked, he my prick, I his split and his rose and my tongue penetrated his rose of Cairo and then he turned again, went on all fours and I pushed my prick, now excited, inflated, thickened and firm, into the rose, in and out, swaying it right and left until it came, in his holy temple. The count had been watching, fingering my ass with his fingers. Then we cuddled one inside the other, sensing the flesh and soft skin of the others and were soon asleep. I dreamed I was in the hands of the God Apollo, lying in his lap, my head buried in his thighs. But I was brutally wakened up. It was deep night, a dark heaven, some stars shining, and the fountain murmuring down in the gardens. I felt strokes of the whips on my thighs and heard Albert's voice: "Get up, on your knees, you utter whore and get your punishment for your bad actions, as lately." It burned on my thighs and on my ass as I was lying on my belly. Soon I beheld myself before me, on my knees, tears in my eyes. My arms were seized, turned behind my back and a set of handcuffs was fixed on my wrists. A long iron chain was fixed on them. "Stand up!" Albert told me and whipped me between my thighs, on my legs, on my ass. When I stood balancing myself on the soft matrace of the bed, nearly falling to the left or the right and being kept upright by well aimed whiffs by the whip, I had to jump down to the floor. The blue eyed Ganymede, called Juan, had had to jump onto the floor, get on all fours to get out of our ways and he was watching wide eyed as I got the same punition as he was accustomed to get. He was fitted by a nice golden chain, fixed on his balls and passing under his belly to my ass, fixed at the phallus which stuck again in my ass. I, my Ganymede in tow, was dragged by the chain on to a small cabinet on the back of the room.