Date: Mon, 23 Jun 2008 10:03:06 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: The Inheritance 8/9 (beginnings)

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THE INHERITANCE
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2008
written on December 9, 1993
translated by the author
English text kindly revised by Bob

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE INHERITANCE" 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.

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EIGHT TAPE

"Oh, goodness, you fucked me... you fucked my arse..." he moaned while I
was slipping out of him.

I forced him to turn towards me, but he avoided looking at me.

"And you liked it, didn't you?" I whispered.

"Yes, but... but now... I'm feeling ashamed."

"But why?"

"I thought I was... a male."

"And you are an all-male, or else I wouldn't have liked you."

"But I took it in my arse and I enjoyed it!" he complained.

"I too love taking it in my arse. If you want to fuck me, I'm game."

"No... I'm worn out."

"If you want, I can make it hard again."

"No... I enjoyed being fucked... I'm a faggot..."

"Well? What's wrong with that?"

"I came just being fucked..." he repeated with a moan.

"Hey, look, it's just normal. Lots of people love it. What's wrong with
it?" I asked again.

"It's that... I didn't enjoy sex so much even when I fucked a girl." he
answered, troubled.

I realized he was almost crying, tears were filling his eyes. I kissed
him. At first he resisted me, but then, all of a sudden, he yielded and
returned my kiss. But tears were abundantly flowing down his cheeks.
Then he moved back from me and looked at me with a hesitant expression.

"I'm a whore aren't I?" he asked with a sob.

"You're a wonderful boy, and anything but a whore."

"And you... you want to fuck me again?"

"Yes, sure. If you will come here again tomorrow, I'll fuck you."

"Yes, again tomorrow... again..." he murmured in a dejected tone.

We dressed. He gathered his belongings and made as if to go away. I took
out my wallet but he stopped me with a gesture.

"No... if you give me some money now I'll rally feel like a whore, won't
I?" he murmured.

"No, you are not a whore, alright. Will you come, tomorrow?"

"Yes..." he said and ran away.

I could understand he was deeply troubled, but I felt he would come
again. I didn't see him for two days and I thought that on thinking
about it with a cold mind, a shame feeling overcame him. I could
understand that it is not easy to accept oneself being gay. But the
third day someone rang the doorbell. Tina called me downstairs.

"It's for you, Stefano!" she yelled up the staircase.

I went downstairs and when I saw him, I smiled, happily. He became as
red as a lobster.

"You came..." I said.

"Yes... I didn't want to, but... But you aren't alone... When can we
meet?" he asked, deeply embarrassed, almost whispering.

"Come upstairs... We will be safe."

"I... I would like... doing it again..."

"Yes, sure, me too."

I took him upstairs in the guest room and locked the door with the key.
Then I opened his trousers lowering them to his knees, I lowered mine
too and embracing him from back, brushed my cock already hard between
his buttocks.

"Oh, goodness... I couldn't wait any more... Fuck me!" he murmured.

"No, first suck me for a while. Then you put a condom on me - last time
we were wrong not to have used it... And then I'll put it inside you and
fuck you..."

He turned, crouched in front of me and docilely did all I asked of him.
He had all the enthusiasm and the devotion of a neophyte. After he had
slipped on me the condom, I had him lay on his back, on the bed, raised
his legs on my shoulders and standing up near the bed, I took him with
real gusto and reciprocal pleasure. After I came into him, I asked him
if he wanted to try to take me but he almost bashfully asked me if I
could make him come with a blow job. I complied with pleasure.

Later we talked for some time. He was full of questions about the new
dimension he had just discovered in himself. I suggested that he could
possibly be bisexual, not gay and thus he now had twice the choice than
before... But he told me that he never before had such strong orgasms...
He came to be taken by me some five or six more times, until my vacation
was over.

"How can I manage to find a companion, now?" he asked me after the last
time we made love, while we were dressing.

"There are plenty like you and me." I answered.

"Yes, you told me so, but... how can I recognize them?"

"You will gradually get an experience..." I said.

Then I explained him that certain way to look, the possible ways to
approach, how to try to hook someone without compromising himself too
much. He asked questions, often na•ve ones, and I tried to give him the
most exhaustive answers.

When we said goodbye, he said, "I will never forget you. You have been
my first man. You made me discover a world I didn't even guess could
exist... I will miss you..."

Back in Turin, Domenico checked all the items I bought in Genoa and gave
me his compliments.

"It's good stuff and you paid a good price. Bravo."

"I could possibly have got it at a lower price, but they were old people
needing the money, so I didn't have the heart to pay them less..." I
justified myself.

"You did very well, Stefano. We have to care for ourselves of course,
but without profiting from others' need, without being heartless,
without cheating the others." Domenico said.

I was really pleased at these words.

Domenico turned seventy-one and we threw a nice birthday party for him.
On that occasion Domenico told me he intended to stop working in the
shop and therefore I had to manage it. I answered him that it was
alright with me, but that in my opinion, as he still was so strong and
in good health, it would be better for him if he continued to come to
the shop so as not to get bored all the day at home.

So he continued to come, but it was now me who was going to buy new
items, who fixed their price and who told Anselmo what he had to restore
and how. Also at home, Domenico wanted that it was with me that Tina
discussed the things to be done, the menu and so on. He had handed over
to me although I was just twenty-two years old.

The twenty-first of November I went to the printers shop to have new
guarantee certificate cards printed, for the items we had for sale. I
left the shop around ten in the morning. When I got back to our shop it
was eleven thirty. In front of our shop there was an ambulance and a
small crowd. Anselmo came towards me.

"Domenico..." he said, and his voice trembled.

"Did he have... a seizure?" I asked, worried.

"No... he's... he left us..." he said almost in a whisper.

My heart stopped beating. "He... is he... dead?" I asked unbelieving.

"Yes."

"But... but he was in good health!" I protested, my eyes swelling with
tears.

"Just half an hour ago... I heard a sudden noise in the shop... I went
to see... he was lying there, in front of the convent table, prone on
the floor... He didn't breathe any more... I called the ambulance, then
called the printer but you were already coming..."

"Dead! But how? And why?" I asked going to the ambulance.

"You, step back." the nurse said sharply to me.

"He's his son." Anselmo explained.

"Oh, sorry..." said the nurse.

"Can I come with you?" I asked.

"Yes, of course. Are you coming to the hospital?" asked the nurse.

"Yes..." I said getting in.

Anselmo told me, "I'll take care of the shop."

"Yes, thank you. Shut it and put a note on the shutter." I said him.

I sat near the stretcher and moved the sheet away from Domenico's face.
He seemed as if he was merely sleeping. His expression was serene. I
cried. The ambulance left.

The doctors said it had been an infarction, he was dead instantly,
without suffering. At least that - without suffering...

I send a telegram to my family. Then arranged an undertaker for the
funeral. At the funeral there were few people - my family, Tina,
Anselmo, a few neighbouring shop keepers, two or three acquaintances who
read the obituary in the Stampa newspaper. We went to the cemetery then
back home. I said farewell to my family who went back to our village the
same day. I don't know why, but I had been sure that Domenico would live
at least another twenty years! His sudden departure left in me a great
emptiness.

In the following days I had to face the thankless task of check all
Domenico's private belongings - I had to decide what to keep and what to
dispose of. I asked Tina to gather all Domenico's clothes, put them in
cartons and take them to the Cottolengo for the poor. I kept some of his
papers and threw away some others. I kept all his pictures. And for the
first time I saw the pictures of the women that Domenico had loved. In
the back of each them Domenico, with his elegant handwriting wrote the
names, dates, places and some short notes.

There was also a picture of me when I just came to his home and was
seventeen. On the back there were the usual notes and the words, "I have
finally got a son!" I cried. I spent with him only five years, but I
really got to love him like a father.

There were also some pictures of him in his youth - he was really a
handsome boy, I thought. Some were in army uniform. He did his army
service around the end of World War 2. A handsome young soldier... Then
the pictures of his weddings and so on more pictures. He never showed me
them, before, and now I was looking at them with a mix of affection and
mourning.

A few days later I resumed going to the shop - life went on. I had
chosen the most beautiful pictures of Domenico, put them in the most
beautiful frames we had in the shop, and put some of them at home and
some in the shop.

I was uncertain about continuing to sleep in my bedroom or whether to
move to that of Domenico. I felt that the apartment was now even too
big.  I decided for the moment to continue using my room. The days
passed without Domenico seemed so empty! It had been so good talking
with him about so many different matters. I had spent with him the most
beautiful five years of my life.

I carried out all the succession paperwork and paid the taxes.
Everything was now registered in my name and I was rich. His bank
account was large; I didn't know or guess he had such a big amount of
money. It would have been enough to live on its income, and moreover the
shop was very profitable.

Months elapsed and Spring came. The pain of Domenico's loss was slowly
lessening even though I was still missing him very much. I started to
meet again some of my old gay friends and also, little by little, to
have a few adventures.

Some time later Tina decided to retire and left me. I then thought of
Marcos, Malik's boyfriend. I went to visit them and suggested to Marcos
that he come and work for me. If he cared for the shop and for the
apartment I could offer him a full time job and pay him a good salary.
Having as a housekeeper a gay boy would also give me much more freedom.
Marcos accepted but made it quite clear that he didn't intend having
physical relations with me. I reassured him telling him that, although I
liked him, I would have respected without any doubt his choice.

I came to know him better - he was a merry and agreeable boy, and he
worked diligently and really well. He was both fast and accurate and if
some times he found me in bed with one of my conquests, then there were
no problems.

I had also renewed friendship with Lorenzo and Sergio, who were still
together and who, very wisely didn't want any more a third one in their
bed. I also went on seeing Giacomo and Mattia, besides Malik, of course.
But with all of them there was now just friendship, nothing sexual. I
was also still corresponding with Lars and Piet. Almost by accident, I
met again Roberto and Marco, my old friends of Prea, who were now living
in Turin. Roberto had a greengrocery at the Crocetta market and Marco
was working as a caretaker at the Arts Institute. They were living
together and were a nice couple. But also with them I didn't have
anything sexual, because they were in love and of course there was no
place for a third one in their relationship.

They told me that Giovanni was now married, as well as Michele.
Alessandro, instead, had moved to Tuscany, near Prato, with a man he met
while doing his army service and whom lover he had became. They were
both working together on an estate where they produced wine.

I was gradually gathering a nice collection of gay movies videotapes,
those porno of Cadinot, whose collection I was gradually completing, and
those not porno but with a subject or content more or less explicitly
gay. I also started to buy several novels and essays with a gay subject.

Everything was proceeding nicely.

It was mid-May when one evening somebody rang the doorbell. I went to
open it and found a nineteen years old boy there.

"Excuse me, is mister Domenico Boetto at home?" he asked me.

"May I ask who wants him?"

"My name is Domenico Scanferla... I would like to see him..."

"Well... Domenico passed away about six months ago. I am his son, can
you tell me what this is about?"

The boy widened his eyes, "Dead? He too?"

"Yes... why are you saying 'he too'? Who else is dead?" I asked,
astounded by his odd reaction.

But the boy, instead of answering me, asked, "You said... you are his
son?"

"Yes, I am Stefano Boetto. Didn't you see my name on the door-bell
plate?"

"Yes, I did... I didn't know he had another son..."

"Another? How another? What do you mean?" I asked, trying to understand.

He looked at me, seemed to hesitate then asked me, "May I come in? Just
for a few minutes..."

"Yes, please, come in I said and guided him to the lounge. "So, tell
me..."

"Well, I... I hoped I could meet him... but I came too late..." the boy
said.

I looked at him carefully and tried to understand. - he was incredibly
like some pictures of the young Domenico. Only his hair cut was modern,
but he had the same wide mouth with the corners slightly bending
upwards, the same straight and strong nose, the same large eyes...

"Are you by any chance a relative of Domenico?" I asked him.

"My mother told me I am his son..." he said simply.

"Who is your mother?"

"Her name was Sandra Scanferla..."

"Sandra? She was Sandra?"

"She died in February. She never before told me my father's name. But
just before dying... she told me that my father's name was Domenico
Boetto and that's the reason why my name is Domenico even though
everybody calls me Mimmo..."

"Oh my god! Domenico had desired all his life long to have a son! He
desired it so much... and he had one though he never knew! Your mother,
is that the reason why she left Turin some nineteen or twenty years ago?
She was pregnant with you by Domenico... But why didn't she tell him?"

"Because Mum didn't want him to think that she got pregnant by him just
to frame him, just for his money."

"But he would have been so happy! He loved your mother, and he always
desired so much to have a son!"

"And he had you."

"I was his nephew, and he adopted me five years ago... He would have
recognized you, if he would have known about you. He would have given
you his name... And now all this would be yours, not mine..."

"It is not for that I came here. I just wanted to meet him. Anyway, it
is now all yours. Even if I wanted, I have no means to demonstrate I am
his son. I don't even demand you to believe I am..."

"But I believe you are. I have some pictures of Domenico at your age,
you could be twins... You are too much like him not to be his son.
Moreover Sandra, your mother... Domenico told me about her. He really
loved her..."

"May I... may I see those pictures?"

"Yes, of course. But where are you living, at present?"

"In Mantova. But now that my mother has died... money is ending, I have
to leave our apartment."

"Don't you have a job?"

"No. I just graduated last July as a surveyor but I couldn't find any
job. Sincerely... I didn't come to ask him for money... and neither to
be recognized by him... But I thought he could possibly help me in
finding a job... But above all... I would have liked to finally get to
know my father. But at this point... If you would kindly just show me
those pictures, I will be off."

I went to get the pictures and handed them to him, including the one
with his mother which Domenico had kept. While he was thumbing through
the pictures, visibly moved, I was looking at him with care and
interest. He was really a handsome boy, his face was honest and sweet.
And he was surely Domenico's son. Even though he legally had no right to
anything, I could morally not simply let him go away. The more so as he
needed some help.

Mimmo pointed at one of the pictures and asked, "Do you mind if... if I
take this picture?"

"Of course not. It's yours."

"Thank you. I can go, now."

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"To the railway station to take the first train going back."

"And what will you do, then?"

"I don't know... In one way or another... I will get by."

"Domenico would not have let you go like this."

"But he is dead!"

"But I am here! I know that you are the son he always desired and I
would like to give you a hand."

"Give me a hand?"

"Yes. Listen... would you like to work with me?"

"In the antiques shop?"

"Right. I would appreciate a helper."

"But I know nothing about antiques..."

"This is not a problem. Do you accept?"

"Are you serious? You are really offering me a job?"

"It is the least I can do for you..."

"You are kind..."

"No, I'm just doing what Domenico for sure would have done."

"Did you love him?"

"Yes, very much."

"How was, my father?" he asked, with a sweet voice.

I then started to tell him about Domenico. He was listening to me,
absorbed; he nodded, asked some questions. That boy to me was not only
the natural, if illegitimate, son of Domenico, but he was also a boy
attracting me very much. I wanted to do something for him because it was
fair, but, sincerely, I also desired him to be near me... We talked for
a long time.

Then I asked him, "Did you have your supper?"

"No."

"I neither. Come in the other room, we will share what I have."

"Thank you." he said simply.

We ate and talked more about Domenico.

Then I told him, "Listen, you must sleep here tonight, the apartment is
big. Then tomorrow, if you want, we will sign the hiring papers. Then
you can go back to Mantova to close the apartment and fetch your
belongings and come back here."

"Here at your place?"

"Why not? It is your father's home. Isn't it?"

"Our... our father's home."

"Yes, alright. Do you accept, then?"

"Well... a house, a work, a brother... I would be fool not to accept.
But are you sure you want me here? With you?"

"I feel you are a fair boy and also a likeable guy. I think we can get
on well together, we two."

"But... didn't you think I could possibly be a conman?" he asked.

"Yes, I thought you could be. But it seems totally unlikely. You are too
much like Domenico not to be his son."

"Well, I... I brought with me these papers to show them to Domenico... I
found them at home, after my Mum's death."

He handed me a big envelope in linen brown paper. Inside there were
pictures of Domenico with Sandra, I recognized her, and some letters
that Domenico had sent to Sandra before their son's birth, a gold ring
with a tiny brilliant, Mimmo's birth certificate where was written
"father unknown" and some more items.

I examined everything carefully then said, "I believed you even before,
Mimmo. Anyway I have now not the least doubt. This is your home."

"Thank you. I will try not to be a bother to you."

"I really think you won't. Listen, you can choose - you can sleep in
Domenico's room, or in the guests room. Which would you like?"

"My father's room, if I may."

"Sure. Come, I'll show you and also show you the rest of the apartment."

So Mimmo that night slept in Domenico's room. The day after we signed
his work contract, with which I hired him as a shop assistant, giving
him a decidedly high salary, that amazed him. He then went back to
Mantova to close his mother's apartment, that was just rented and to
take his personal things and what he desired to keep. He came back to
Turin three days later and settled with me in the apartment.

In those three days I had briefed Marcos and with his help we gathered
all my gay things, putting them all in my room.

Mimmo was a companion, reserved, quiet yet merry. I liked him very much
and was feeling more and more attracted to him. He gradually started to
open up with me and I with him and we started to tell each other parts
and details about our lives. I really liked that boy a lot and was
feeling more and more torn if I could let him understand the attraction
I was feeling for him or if it would be better if I silenced it and
treated him just as a friend and a brother.

My desire for him was increasing day by day also the fact that he was so
much like a young Domenico, was doing nothing but increase my desire for
him. I decided to register my car in his name as I was always using the
one which had belonged to Domenico. Mimmo thanked me and was very happy.

I was feeling all I was doing for him was his due, but to him everything
was an unexpected gift and he was always grateful to me.

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CONTINUES IN TAPE 9

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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

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