Date: Sat, 15 Dec 2001 04:23:46 -0800 (PST)
From: Balthazaro <balthazaro@yahoo.com>
Subject: Italian Family, Part III

This work is copyrighted by its author.  It may not be
used without his express permission.  Private
individuals are given permission to have one (1)
electronic and/or one (1) printed copy of this story.
Nifty is given permission to archive this work.

If stories about homosexual acts offend you, please
don't read it... I hate to cause conniptions.  *grin*
If you like it (or don't like it) please let me know
at balthazaro@yahoo.com.

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

I woke up and cast a bleary eye toward the alarm clock
on the table.  Two thirty AM.  Antonio was passed out
cold with his arm still draped over me; after our
encounter of last night, he had cried himself to
sleep.  I couldn't get him to talk to me, and had no
idea what to expect tomorrow morning.

I eased out from under his arm and padded down the
hall to the bathroom after putting on my boxers.  On
my way back to the room I noticed that there was a
light on downstairs.  Slipping into the t-shirt and
shorts I had had on the night before, I made my way
down the steps and looked into the kitchen.  My
grandmother was sitting at the kitchen table with her
head cradled in her hands.  "Uh... Gramma?"

She jumped and gave a little cry; I guess I'd been
quieter coming in than I thought.  "Ai!... Stefano!
Madonna, you scared me to death!  What on earth are
you doing awake?  Are you hungry?"  She hopped up and
started digging around in the cabinets for food.  I
could tell that she was upset, but she kept her back
to me so I couldn't see her face.

"No, Gramma, I'm still way stuffed from last night.
Are you OK?  Why aren't you in bed?"

She sighed and kind of slumped down against the
counter.  Her back was still to me, but I could tell
by the set of her shoulders that she was trying to
keep her composure; I was scared now.  I had never
seen my grandmother looking anything other than happy;
this kind of freaked me out.  She finally sighed
deeply and came over to the table.  Pulling out a
chair, she sat down and patted the chair beside her.
"Come over here... sit down with an old woman for a
little while."

I sat down, and she continued.  "You know, when I was
your age, my parents came here to America with my
grandmother."  I had never heard Gramma talk about her
childhood before.  I leaned forward, and she took my
hand in hers and squeezed it.

"English and the ways of America came pretty easily to
my brother and me, because we were just kids. My
grandmother, though, she was an old woman from
Toscania.  She never learned much English, and what
she could say had such a heavy accent people had
trouble understanding her. A lot of the people in the
neighborhood made fun of her.  They said she was
stupid or crazy, and a lot of things that hurt my
brother and me, hurt my parents, hurt everybody.  But
she didn't care; she didn't care what anybody
thought."  Gramma looked at the breadboard in the
center of the table, with it's knife and bowl.  I
figured that they had belonged to my
great-great-grandmother, since they drew so much of
Gramma's attention.

"Stefano," Gramma looked at me, and her eyes were as
bright as the eyes of a bird, "my grandmother was the
wisest human being I ever met.  She knew everything.
Nothing bothered her, nothing disturbed her.  When she
found out her brother had died in the Great War, she
nodded her head and said nothing.  When she found out
my uncle, her son, had been killed in the big factory
fire, she nodded her head, and said nothing.  She
knew.  She knew already.  My mother, she knew some
things.  Some she never learned, and she never cared.
She never learned to be calm and wait like my
grandmother.  Me, hah... me, I know nothing."  She
started crying softly, and rubbed her hands over the
surface of the breadboard again and again.  I hugged
Gramma tightly.  It was awful seeing her upset,
especially crying like this.  I felt like my whole
world was spinning; I was about to start crying too
out of sympathy, even not knowing what was wrong.  She
finally patted my hands and got herself back under
control.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry to cry like this... you must
think I'm a foolish old woman.  Gramma's getting crazy
in her old age, eh?"  I shook my head mutely, afraid
my own tears would start flowing.

"You're a good boy.  When I saw you come in the door,
and you looked so young and handsome, so much like
your father... it took hold of me by the heart.  Do you
know why your father left the family?"  This non
sequitur took me completely by surprise... I had no idea
what to say.  Left?  My father?  We came back at least
once a year, and we only lived in Albany, for God's
sake.  She made it sound like he moved to Singapore
and never spoke to any of them, or like he was dead.

"Was it... was it because of Mom?  I mean, I know you
guys don't get along with her or her family..."  Now I
really wasn't sure I wanted to be having this
conversation.

"Ai, the maledantia!  No, no, it wasn't your mother,
though she didn't help.  She didn't like us either,
you see...  No, your father left because his heart
wasn't strong enough."  Now I was totally confused.
His heart?  What the hell was Gramma talking about?

"You mean, like, he was afraid of a heart attack,
or...?"  I was majorly confused.

"No, his heart inside!  Stefano, listen to me.  Your
heart is where your courage is - it's what makes you
powerful, makes you a man.  If you are wearing armor
all over and have the biggest gun on the planet, if
your heart isn't strong you'll never win against
anybody.  A strong heart can deal with anything, look
at anything, and still go on... that's why my
grandmother was such a woman of power, her heart was
as strong as the rock of Toscania.  When bad things
happened, she looked at them with her heart, and it
helped  her through the bad times."  Gramma leaned
towards me and transfixed me with her eyes; I was
almost afraid of her, because she'd never looked like
this before.  This whole evening was like something
out of a fairy tale; I halfway expected Gramma to
start flying around on a broom like the strega befana
over the stove.

"Your father's heart was not strong enough to look at
itself, and so he ran away.  Your mother was waiting
for him, and she took him, and they went away.
Everybody thought she took my boy from me, but by then
he wasn't my boy any more. The boy I had raised was
gone.  One day, I still pray to God, Mary and la bella
Luna that your father will wake up out of his dream
and be able to find his heart again!" She was doing it
again; what dream?  God, I wished she'd talk normal
English.  My confusion must have shown clearly on my
face, because she held my hand again.  "Stefano, how
strong is your heart?  Are you strong enough to be who
God wants you to be?"

"I... I dunno."

"Well, I will take something from you and give you
something, and hopefully we'll be even, eh?  Hold
still." So quick I almost didn't see it happen, Gramma
cut my finger with the knife off the breadboard.  I
yelled and tried to jerk my hand back, but she had a
strong hold on it; amazingly strong for an old woman.
She took a little yellow rock and rubbed it on the
blood coming from the cut, and muttered something in
Italian.  I didn't understand anything except
something about the Moon, but as far as I was
concerned Gramma had flipped out; I wanted to get away
as soon as I could.  As soon as she finished that, she
got up and rummaged in the kitchen drawers.  Tossing
me a band-aid, she put the rock on a little shelf at
head height with a pile of other pebbles and a picture
of her parents and grandmother.  Reaching beyond the
pile of pebbles, she rummaged around until she pulled
down an old battered cardboard box.

"Here.  I give this to you to pay you for your blood;
I want only the best for you, because you are blood of
my blood."  She kissed me on my face, both sides like
Grandpa the night before, and then smiled just like
she always had and said "Now go to bed, and be ready
to eat in the morning.  And Stefano..."  She got that
look in her eye again.  What now?  "When the time
comes, you will know it, and you tell your father 'The
Moon does not forget.'  You understand?"  Of course I
didn't understand anything, but I nodded and she
smiled and sat back down at the table as I went into
the dining room.

I staggered back up the steps in a daze, still
clutching my filthy cardboard box in my bandaged hand.
 I had no clue what had just been going on, but I
really hoped that Antonio would still be speaking to
me in the morning so I could ask him what was up with
Gramma.

When I woke up, the sounds of the city outside made me
feel like I had been sleeping in the street.  Horns
honked, people yelled in English and Italian, and the
smell of frying sausage filled the whole upstairs.  As
I rolled over, I saw that Antonio was gone.

I showered and brushed my teeth, wondering what the
fallout was going to be from last night.  I had almost
forgotten the weirdness with Gramma, but the bandage
on my finger reminded me of what had gone on.  All of
her talk about hearts and dreams and the Moon sounded
even weirder when I thought about it in the daytime.
Shrugging, I dried myself off, got dressed and went
downstairs for breakfast.

The day went pretty quickly; I helped Uncle Tony and
Aunt Maria in the deli, along with all their kids.
Antonio wouldn't look at me, or even stay in the same
room with me.  I didn't think that his parents
noticed, but it was driving me crazy.  I wanted to
confront him or apologize, at least to do something to
break the tension.  Their daughters, Francesca,
Annunziata and Maria, drove me to distraction
throughout the day, because the three of them fought
like cats and dogs and kept trying to drag me into it
on one side or another.  By the time we went back to
the house, I was so worn out I could barely move.
Antonio and I went into his room, and he started
changing out of the old worn out clothes he wore to
make sandwiches.  He still hadn't said anything, and
made it very clear by his body language that he wished
I was anywhere other than in the room with him.  I
finally decided I had had enough.  "Antonio, man,
look... "

Before I could even get the first sentence out, he had
thrown me backwards onto the bed and was on top of me.
 With his left hand on my throat, he balled his right
hand up into a fist and whispered venomously "Shut the
fuck up and listen to me, you prick bastard!  I ain't
no fuckin' faggot, no matter what you talked me into
last night!  If you tell anybody, and I mean anybody,
about what went on in here last night I will fuckin'
kill you, do you understand?  I will just fuckin' kill
you and I will throw your body in the river for the
fuckin' fish, alright?  Got it?"  I nodded, terrified.
 This was worse than anything I had thought of last
night.  Antonio looked crazy, his face was all red and
his eyes showed whites all the way around the iris.
He punched his fist into the pillow beside my head,
and slowly got up off me.  He was still breathing like
he had run a mile, but he looked like he was going to
start crying again.

I got up off the bed, rubbing my neck, and started
undressing slowly.  I hoped that he wasn't going to
hurt me; even though I was pretty well-muscled from
playing soccer, Antonio was huge like his dad and
obviously worked out.  The muscles that had looked so
hot the night before now only looked threatening,
sources of danger and potential pain.  Once I had
changed I left the room without saying anything.

Dinner was pretty quiet that night.  Grandpa sat at
his place at the end of the table like he hadn't even
moved since the night before, but without the rest of
the family here to dance attendance on him he seemed
smaller than he had last night.  Gramma was bustling
around putting enough food on the table to feed an
army, but she just smiled at everybody and didn't say
anything. Aunt Maria was helping Gramma, and Uncle
Tony, Antonio and the three daughters were too busy
eating to say much.  As soon as dinner was over,
Antonio stood up without saying a word and went out of
the house.  Uncle Tony looked after him and almost
said something, but glanced at me and went back to
eating.  After dinner, I played Monopoly with Frannie,
Anna and Ria until it was time for bed.  Antonio still
hadn't come back, and as I went up to get ready for
bed I could tell Uncle Tony was trying very hard not
to lose his temper.

I had only been asleep about twenty minutes when the
shouting woke me up.  Antonio had apparently come
home, and Uncle Tony was telling him precisely what he
thought of his behavior earlier.  My name never came
up directly, but they both danced around it enough to
tell me that they both knew I was the source of it.  I
was sure Uncle Tony had no idea what had caused the
split between us, but since I could hear the loud
parts word for word I knew that he thought it was some
sort of jealousy.  I felt worse with each minute that
went by for being the cause of such a scene, and
understood now why my parents had moved; the emotional
tension that these people seemed to find so normal was
alien to me.  My parents almost never fought, and
certainly never screamed at each other like Tony and
his son.

Fifteen minutes later, Antonio came storming into the
room and almost turned the light on before he realized
I was in bed.  He took a deep breath, and let it out
slowly, and then started undressing.  I watched
through slitted eyelids, wanting some warning if we
were going to another confrontation like this
afternoon.  He pulled the covers back to get in the
bed, and just stood there for a minute looking at my
naked body.  I wanted to curl up in a knot to present
the smallest possible surface for violence, but I
didn't; I just waited to see what he was going to do.
If he was going to beat the hell out of me, I couldn't
stop him.  He stared at me for a few minutes, and said
"I know you're not asleep, shithead."  He chuckled a
little bit.  "Uncle Tony probably woke up the whole
neighborhood yelling at me.  I seriously doubt you
could sleep through it."

I gave up my charade and sat up.  "Yeah, you're right.
 Want the light on?"

"Nah..."  He sat down on the edge of the bed and took
another deep breath.  "Look, about this afternoon..."

"It's OK.  Don't sweat it."  I felt uncomfortable even
thinking about it.

"No, it's not OK.  I acted like a real shit, and I
just... well, I want to say I'm sorry.  It was wrong for
me to do that to you, and I was scared, and I... it was
just wrong.  And I know that.  And I'm sorry.  Friends
again?"  he held out his hand to me.  I couldn't
believe it, but I reached up and shook his hand.  He
pulled me up against him and hugged me tightly,
kissing me on both cheeks.  "Friends again!"

In spite of the fact that I had been scared shitless
only moments before, my cock started to lengthen when
he pressed me up against his naked body in a bear hug.
 His hairy chest felt good against me, and his hairy
bush and cock pressing against mine made my balls
throb with unspent juices.  I didn't usually jack off
every day at home, but I didn't have hot guys my own
age pressing against me naked at home, either.  He
looked down as the blunt helmet of my oversized
cockhead nudged against his leg, and said "Jesus... here
we go again, huh?"  His voice kind of shook on the
last words, and I looked at him closely.

"Hey, Antonio, listen... it's got a mind of its own,
sometimes.  We don't have to do anything if you don't
want to.  I like being your friend, and I don't want
to piss you off again..."  He shook his head and gave a
bitter little chuckle.

"No, it's not that I don't want to, and that's the
problem.  See, I gotta grow up and get married, and I
got to have kids.  I'm the only son my Dad has, and I
gotta do that stuff.  I've known I had to do it ever
since I was a little kid.  It's like my, what do you
call it, job description."  He sat down on the bed
next to me and ran his hand down my smooth chest.

"I like girls OK, " he went on.  "and some of them are
really hot, and that's good.  But I like guys too, it
seems like, and that's not good.  That's not good at
all.  And I knew, when I saw you come in here
yesterday," his voice had gotten a little rougher now,
and his breathing sped up a bit. "I knew, you were
going to be trouble.  'Cause you were pretty like a
girl in the face," and he stroked my face "but you
were all man under those baggy-ass clothes you wear."
His hand on my cock felt so good it throbbed its way
from mostly soft to hard as a rock in no time.  "But..."
 he moved away from me, leaving me with a massive
boner pointed up at the ceiling, and rolled over on
his back on the far edge of the bed.  "But, I can't
get too much of a taste for men, cuz I gotta have kids
with a woman.  And I meant what I said, I ain't no
faggot."

I was hot as hell by now, and mad at Antonio for
teasing me like this.  "'Tonio..."

He turned and looked at me.  "What?"

"This."  And I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.
It started out as a joke, but a rush of horniness
peaked in me like a wave and I started kissing him for
real.  His mouth tasted sweet, and my tongue flicked
out over his lips.  He had been drinking wine
somewhere, and the tang of it was on him.  He went
"mmf!" and tensed up, his hands coming up to push me
away. As his eyes looked up into mine, though, I could
see the change in them.  He reached around me with his
arms, pulling me against him.  The hair on his chest
scratched my nipples, and his tongue was delicious
where it penetrated my mouth like a little penis,
thrusting between my jaws.  This time there was no
softness to his big, foreskinned prick where it pushed
against my belly; it was hard as a piece of
velvet-covered steel.  Cock slime was dripping from
his foreskin and pooling in my navel, giving him less
friction as he thrust it against me.  I had never been
this turned on with anyone, even with the guy in the
mall; I was so worked up I was afraid I was going to
pass out.

I wasn't in charge this time; I was panting after him
like a dog in heat.  He broke off from our kiss and
looked at me, and a god of sex looked out of his eyes.
 "You know what?  I'm going to fuck you until you
can't walk.  You want to turn me away from women, you
little slut?  I'm going to make you a woman!"  The
thought of my cousin's eight inches of throbbing cock
inside me terrified me, but I was too hot to object.
I had never even thought about fucking another guy's
ass, let alone getting fucked; I didn't see how it
could be possible to take something that big and not
have it hurt like hell.  Antonio picked me up like a
doll and turned me around, throwing my legs up over
his shoulders.  I said "Wait!  I haven't...mmf!" as he
pressed his lips against mine, blocking the flow of
words by forcing his tongue back in my mouth.  His
precum-drooling cockhead pressed hard against my tight
ass and he started to slide it in.

I was right; it hurt like I was being raped with a
baseball bat.  I almost screamed out, but his lips
over mine muffled my yells.  "Tonio realized what was
going on as soon as I did that, and didn't miss a
beat.  He broke our liplock long enough to whisper "Oh
Jeez, I'm sorry...", spit on his hand, and rub it into
my asshole.  I could feel tears running down my face;
this wasn't exactly what I had in mind when we
started, but Antonio didn't seem to notice that I was
upset.  When his prick started nudging around my ass
again, it was a lot slicker.  I tried to squirm away,
but he said "Come on, baby... give it up for me." His
huge shoulders were pressing my knees up against my
chest; my cock had gone down from the pain in my ass,
but I could still feel the cum churning in my balls,
demanding release.  When I looked up into his brown
eyes, his mouth descended on mine again as his cock
slid all the way home for the first time.

I almost levitated off the bed.  When he put his whole
cock inside me, it hit something magical in there.  I
could feel his prick squishing around inside me, and
it felt so good I felt like I was having a seizure.  I
grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into me,
groaning incoherently.  He smiled and said "Oh yeah... I
knew you'd like it."  My fingernails raked across his
broad back as he thrust himself into me again.  I
couldn't get enough; my breath was coming in ragged
gasps, and I was clutching at my muscular cousin like
a drowning man clinging to a life preserver.  His
muscles flexed and played in his arms as he leaned
over me, and I could feel his back tensing each time
he slammed home into me.  His breath was ragged, too,
but he never broke our kiss. As his rhythm picked up,
he hit that magic spot in my ass more and more often.
My cock was bouncing around between us, and looked
bigger than ever; Antonio looked down at it and said
"Jesus, you got a hell of a cock!  It looks like an
elephant trunk!"

Laying me back on the bed from where I was pressed
against him, he held me by the hips and thrust back
into me as he took the head of my cock into his mouth.
 The feeling of his lips on my exposed cockhead was
amazing by itself; when he sucked me and pumped into
me at the same time it was like nothing else I had
ever imagined.  He could only get the head and an inch
or two in his mouth, but it didn't matter; I knew I
wasn't going to last long.  At the rate he was
pounding my ass with his prick, Antonio wasn't either.
 I could feel the head of his cock swelling inside me
as my balls drew up tight to the base of my shaft.  I
stuck the pillow in my mouth to muffle my screaming as
I blew my first shot of cum straight down his throat.
He moaned around a mouthful of my cum and I could feel
his giant cock swelling even more as he slammed
against me a final time, dumping gallons of his sperm
deep inside me.  My cockhead slipped from his lips and
my fourth shot of cum shot across his cheek, then my
cock fell drooling back to my stomach.

I felt like his slave; I had never imagined that being
fucked could make me feel so alive.  Antonio lay
gasping on top of me, his massive prickmeat still
embedded deep inside my well-plowed asshole.  I
stroked his hair tenderly and kissed his face, licking
my own cum off his face.  Right now, I wanted nothing
more than to spend the rest of my life with this boy.
He had shown me things I never knew I could feel,
never knew existed.  I felt like I was falling in
love.  And I thought I had problems before...