Date: Thu, 02 Feb 2006 09:02:39 +0100
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: The Odd Couple 11/14 (m+m - Beginnings)

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THE ODD COUPLE
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2005
written on September 28th 1993
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by Dave

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE ODD COUPLE" 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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CHAPTER 11 - Attempt

Stefano kept asking himself if he had done right to say yes to sex with
Maurizio. For sure, he himself wanted it badly - just once or twice -
what harm could that do? He was feeling strong enough to avoid getting
into an impossible relationship with the boy.

They found the bungalow easily - a low, one-story building on the
lakeshore, surrounded by trees - simple but nice - two bedrooms with
king-size beds, one looking out on the lake. The ample living room also
faced the lake and had a fireplace. Just off the living room was a
drawing room with a TV set. At the rear of the cottage were a wide
kitchen and the bathroom with an over-sized tub and shower stall.

Pigg" had explained to Stefano how the central heating system worked and
now the man fussed with it until he got it started. "It should warm up
in a couple of hours. For now, we should keep our coats on," Stefano
said as he sat in a soft armchair in the drawing room.

"Okay, sure," Maurizio answered from the kitchen where he was
inspecting. He returned to the drawing room. "Should I put your suitcase
in th' lake room or th' other'n?"

"In the other one," Stefano answered, thinking that Maurizio would enjoy
looking at the lake before falling asleep or when waking up.

"Good. Then I'll take th' one by th' lake."

Stefano was pleased to hear that the boy didn't intend to install
himself in his bed - he kept to their agreement. That night they would
share the same bed, sure, but the boy respected what they had agreed.

After placing the suitcases, Maurizio returned.

"I'll make a fast tour o' th' village t' buy sm supplies, and then be
right back. It'll be better if ya don' go outside, so as not t' catch
cold."

"All right." Stefano answered.

Maurizio was being protective of him and this pleased Stefano. His
bodyguard, he thought, feeling an agreeable warmth in himself.

In about an hour Maurizio returned and fixed lunch, which they ate in
the kitchen.

Then the boy said, "I'll wash all th' dishes together after supper.
Let's go into th' living room. I saw some wood outside for th'
fireplace. I'd like t' light a fire, but I never done that. Do y' know
how?"

"Sure. I'll teach you."

Maurizio smiled happily, like an excited child learning a new game. He
went out to split the wood and after a while came back with a basket
filled with sticks. Stefano laid the fire showing the boy how to set the
wood. He crumpled sheets of newspaper into pellets and on the first try
a fire flared up in the fireplace. The draft was good.

Maurizio sat beside the man, fascinated by the flames.

"It's great, isn't it?" Stefano asked touching the boy's arm.

"Fucking shit, it is! Really great! All houses should have fireplaces."
Maurizio concluded in a dreamlike voice, the reflection of the flames
dancing in his eyes.

Then he turned towards Stefano, put his hands on the man's shoulders and
looked luminously into the man's eyes. "I love you, Stefano. There, I
said it! I love you Stefano. Yeah, I really love you!" and kissed him
softly on his lips, with an excited, little-boy air.

Stefano didn't object. Instead he asked himself, "Just what do you love,
Maurizio - me or your happiness?" Then he answered himself, "His
happiness of this moment. New, beautiful experiences he never had in his
childhood. Let him enjoy them and deceive himself, thinking that he
loves me. Sooner or later he will understand this as well."

Maurizio was again gazing at the flames. "When it gets dark, it'll be
even more beautiful." he murmured.

"We'll let it burn until bed time." Stefano replied condescending.

"Good Lord! I feel wonderful here - th' fire, being near you, on
holiday. God, all this is so good. This is a real holiday - and tonight
- at last, once again with you. Renato couldn't even guess that life
could be s' wonderful!"

Stefano felt some irritation on hearing Renato's name. He wondered if
this was not jealousy. No, it was just distaste. Renato was Maurizio's
bad conscience. But he, Stefano - was he then perhaps Maurizio's good
conscience? He shook his head as if to chase away these reflections.

"I'd like t' stay here with ya forever..." Maurizio murmured settling
himself more comfortably, relaxed and serene.

When they decided go to bed and went into the bedroom, Maurizio noticed
an electric wire coming from the bed. "What's that?" he asked,
half-worried and half-amazed.

"The electric blanket."

"What? Electric? What for? Isn't it dangerous?"

"No, it just keeps the bed slightly warm. In winter it's more
comfortable."

"Fucking hell, they really think of everythin'. It must be good,
then..."

" You'll experience it in a little while." Stefano said with a smile.

Maurizio really was like a child - simple things could still amaze him.
And Stefano felt again as though he was tiptoeing through a treacherous
minefield. But it was so terribly fascinating. Was he being crazy to
venture into this strange territory; was he foolhardy? What would he
find? Would it be worthwhile?

"Why are ya lookin' at me like that?" asked Maurizio, looking up at
Stefano with a questioning glance from where he had stooped to pull off
his shoes. "What's th' matter?"

"Nothing, Maurizio." Stefano answered as he started to undress. "How was
I looking at you?"

"I don' know. You made me feel... well... like I was doing somethin'
wrong," the boy answered hesitantly.

"No, that's just your imagination, Maurizio. Everything's okay."

"Sh'd I sleep in th' other room? Did ya change your mind?"

"No!" the man answered so suddenly that he amazed himself, "No... I want
you here with me, at least for tonight."

Maurizio smiled serenely and continued to undress.

Stefano admired the boy's beautiful form that gradually emerged and felt
frissons of anticipation and pleasure shoot through his skin. That boy
was truly beautiful, like a statue of a Grecian athlete. So manly, so
virile, and yes so sweet. Soon he would caress that silky skin, his
muscles both hard as steel and at the same time soft and flexible,
darting and tender... God, how he loved that body!

They climbed almost as one onto the bed and sat near each other.

"Lie down, Maurizio..." the man said gently pushing the boy by his
shoulders.

The boy let himself lie back, but seized Stefano by the arms pulling the
man on top of him, then took his face between his hands and kissed him
on the mouth deep and long. Then Stefano gently freed himself from the
boy's hold and lowered himself to kiss and lick his neck and chest,
suckling the broad, dark nipples with their hard little teats. Maurizio
started to caress Stefano's back and sides as the man slowly went down,
happy to feel that wonderful body quivering under him, responding to
every touch, happy to hear him moan with such intense pleasure.

Yes, for once he could renounce even his own pleasure so as to give to
that perfect body that was offering itself to him, hot and shuddering.

At last he reached the boy's erect organ. The man took it in his hands,
fragile and precious, and bent down to take it gently between his lips.
He lowered his head to let it slip slowly and completely to the back of
his throat, skillfully whirling his tongue around the imprisoned column
of firm flesh, gently fingering the full testicles, filling his nostrils
with the sweet musky scent of the boy's groin. Maurizio sat up and
resumed caressing the man's back and sides, while the other hand roamed
his chest, lingering to tease the nipples then going down to his penis.
At first he caressed it almost shyly, then more assuredly, and finally
took it with his full hand and started to masturbate Stefano. The boy
leaned against the man's body and his warm and sweet lips went to his
back, and kissed him.

Stefano quivered. It was the first time that the boy didn't remain
almost completely inert to let the man service him. So, Stefano devoted
himself to the boy with all his energy, all his art, all his lust. As
Maurizio reached the point of no return, he tensed his whole body in an
effort to hold off his orgasm, to prolong those last beautiful moments,
so intense, so upsetting. But he struggled in vain. His lengthy
abstinence from sex had charged him too much to be able now to restrain
himself any more, so he unloaded into Stefano's mouth with a long moan
of pleasure, shuddering, seized by his strong orgasm.

And Stefano, soon after, came into the boy's hand.

When they lay down on the warm mattress, sated and exhausted, Maurizio
reached for his briefs, which he used to wipe the man's seed from his
chest. Then he sniffed the underwear, looking thoughtful.

Stefano observed these maneuvers silently.

Maurizio, dropping the garment to the floor, turned towards the man. "It
smells odd."

"Good? Bad?"

"No, just odd."

"Different from yours?"

"I don' know. I never tried t' smell mine. But every body has its own
smell, so..."

Stefano caressed the boy's arm. Maurizio curled against him.

"Good night, Maurizio."

"May I sleep here, just tonight?"

"Yes, it's all right."

"Afterwards... it is hard to leave and stay alone. It happened like that
with the girls who got dressed right away and nearly ran away. I like to
feel your warmth afterwards. Don't you?"

"I like it too. But now let's sleep..."

"Okay..."

Stefano felt the boy slip into sleep in a few minutes - quiet, sated,
serene. Stefano looked at him with a mixture of tenderness and
detachment - so close and yet so alien. So absurd... But suddenly a
thought occurred to him. "Who do you presume to be, to judge this boy?
Today he touched you, tried to give you some pleasure, how he was able
to... how could he..."

The next day, after spending a serene day with Maurizio, when the boy
bid him goodnight with a light of hope in his eyes, Stefano pretended
not to understand the boy's silent prayer. Maurizio gave him a light
kiss then went into his room and closed the door. The man felt at once
slightly guilty, but also much relieved.

"It's strange" he thought, "this contrast of feelings." He slipped into
his bed and thought it was too wide, too empty... And he thought that
possibly in the other room Maurizio was experiencing the same feelings.
Yes, because these were almost primeval emotions, not complex ones.
Maurizio lived not with complex emotions, but simple ones. He was not a
refined, civilized man, a man of our times as Stefano was. He could have
led this exact same life one hundred, two hundred, five hundred years
earlier, even more.

Thus thought Stefano as he fell asleep in his warm bed, whose warmth
came not from a desired body, but rather from a simple electric device.
And slipping into sleep, he thought that it was weird that he was
comparing the civilized warmth of a modern device to the primitive
warmth of a body - animal or machine? he asked himself in confusion, and
slept.

The next morning he woke up slightly dazed. Instinctively he felt for a
body next to him, then remembered that he himself didn't want it to be
near him. But how could he accept a so perfect body, with a soul so...
So, how? He asked himself. What did he know about the soul of that boy?
He felt confused, really confused.

He went to the bathroom and he was about to close the door behind him
when he heard Maurizio cry, "Wait!"

He opened the door to the boy - his hair ruffled, eyes still sleepy,
radiant in his complete nakedness. Maurizio asked him, "Do ya feel like
taking a bath with me, in that huge tub?"

"But just a bath, understand?" Stefano answered, with the air of someone
admonishing a child to behave.

Maurizio smiled and answered gently, with a hint of sincere amazement,
"Do ya always think about that?"

Stefano felt that he had blundered. "No... I think it's rather you who
think of that."

"Why, if I was thinking that, I'd just say it." Maurizio answered with
an obvious tone as he came into the bathroom with Stefano.

"Oh, really? And what would you have said, in that case?"

"I'd just ask ya if ya want t' have sex with me in th' tub, wouldn' I?"

Stefano nodded and thought he deserved the boy's rebuke. They slipped
into the wide tub of warm water. Maurizio seemed as happy as a kid.

Stefano almost felt ashamed when he noticed that he had gotten a
hard-on, but Maurizio had not. The boy, even if he had noticed it,
ignored it. "Do you always think about that?" the boy had asked... Could
he possibly be right? With his simplicity, the boy was more transparent
than the man in all his refined complexity. The myth of Rousseau's "good
savage?" Stefano asked himself. No, the good savage didn't take
advantage of little girls.

That day, after Maurizio made sure that Stefano was well-covered and
warm, they took a mid-afternoon walk in the frozen wood bordering the
lake. The luminous winter sun melted the icicles that festooned the tree
branches. Maurizio looked around, fascinated. He took a big icicle and
licked it like a lollipop. He chatted merrily of the thousand small
details he was noticing. Stefano had brought his camera so they shot
pictures of each other.

"If we would just meet somebody, we could have a shot taken together."
The boy said suddenly. But they didn't meet a living soul.

They returned to the cottage and Maurizio lighted a fire. Stefano lay
down in front of it, on the bear rug, while the boy went to fix their
supper.

After eating, they watched TV for a while. At one point, while they were
absorbed in the revolutions of two dancers on ice, Maurizio turned
towards the man. "Stefano?"

"Yes?" the man answered, turning toward him.

"May I tell you again? I love you, Stefano."

Not trusting his voice, Stefano shrugged and lifted the palms of his
hands in resignation.

"Do you want to come into the other room with me?" the boy asked
hopefully.

"In the other room? To bed?"

"No, in th' living room, on th' fur carpet. I'll put down sm cushions
from th' sofa so we'll be comfortable. I have a surprise for ya. Will ya
come?" he asked, putting his arm around Stefano's waist.

Stefano nodded and they stood up. As they reached the living room,
Stefano suddenly started to suspect what Maurizio might have in mind. A
brief flash of worry, nothing more than a spark (like a spark in the
fireplace) rose in his mind and he felt vaguely uneasy. But he did
nothing.

"Here. There are no more cushions... let's undress, now..."

Maurizio, already naked, knelt in the center of the bear fur waiting for
Stefano to get undressed. Then he made him lie down in front of him,
towards the fire.

Next, he crouched beside the man and he whispered with shining eyes,
"Tonight, my Stef, I'll give you all that you've given me those other
times. Is that all right?"

"Maurizio," Stefano answered trying to quell the fear that gripped him,
"what about when you said that you would never do anything like this as
long as you live? What's different now?"

He knew he must avoid what was about to happen, but his curiosity and
his desire mounted together to block his reason completely.

"I want ya t' be happy, tonight, as happy as I am..." the big boy
answered sweetly, "... and I think this is th' way."

"Is that the only reason?" Stefano asked, hoping for an answer that
would not come - he knew that it could not come.

"I think so." Maurizio answered honestly, "I'll make ya happy, okay
Stef?"

"Yes..." lied the man, hating himself for what he was allowing Maurizio
to do.

What if this was the start of homosexuality for the boy? No, absurd!
Nobody can become homosexual, and Maurizio was for sure straight from
head to toe! Kinsey would have classified him very close to the 100%
heterosexual side of his table, he thought as he tried to relax.

Maurizio started to caress Stefano's body and said hesitantly, "It may
be that... I'm not s' good, this first time. "

Stefano heard his own voice answering lightly, "One should not expect an
apprentice to be an expert, Maurizio. "

"Fucking hell, ya know, you're really somethin' special?" the boy
whispered as he embraced the man with tender vigor and kissed him.

But Stefano took no joy in what Maurizio was trying to do. First, he was
highly critical of himself. He was proud that he had never initiated
anybody, never pushed or lured someone into gay sex. Whenever he gave or
received pleasure with a man, the partner's desire must at least equal
his own. Indeed, his self-esteem relied heavily on this value. Stefano
sometimes noticed that other gay people needed to deflower a virgin or
take advantage of someone's lack of sexual experience. He had always
seen these needs as selfish... immature... dominating... traits that he
deeply despised. To him, good sex was like good food - both were to be
created by artists and enjoyed by connoisseurs as devoted to the
creation as the enjoyment.

Stefano disliked cheap wine, badly cooked meat, unripe fruit, and
reluctant partners. Yet here he was allowing Maurizio to try to please
him, something he condemned in other men. And, he knew it.

Second, Stefano was expert at making love to another man, and especially
the use of his mouth. He knew that oral sex was one of the most
difficult things to learn to do well. One needed a perfect knowledge of
the penis and its magically sensitive spots that could come only with
years of experience. It needed perfect control of breathing, of lips, of
tongue, of the pressure and rhythm that only instinct and experience can
bring. And, Stefano knew above all else that one must love the act
itself to perform it with art. Maurizio had not even one of all these
elements. How could the boy do anything but fail? It was absurd to let
him do it.

And yet he could not explain all of that to Maurizio. Even if he tried
to do so, the boy would not understand... Maurizio's brain was just too
simple to grasp such complexities. Stefano had once told him that it
would have been good if the other was able to give back what he
received; so now the boy wanted to do that. Maurizio wanted Stefano to
accept him, and was doing whatever he could to achieve it.

Despite all his reasoning, Stefano was beginning to respond to
Maurizio's stimulation. At first, Maurizio had kissed him with some
passion, some desire. But even as the boy began to lick his way down the
man's body, it was obvious that he was only mechanically repeating what
Stefano had done to him before. He could not understand the spirit of
these moves that he had memorized by rote. To him the male body was
totally alien. He moved awkwardly, not from desire, but forced - lacking
the right rhythm of light or firm touch that would communicate his
passion, stir an answering passion in the other so that the other would
feel desired and loved. Maurizio did not love his body, his sexuality -
he could only repeat the gestures he had experienced in the illusion
that it was the gesture that itself had value.

At last, Stefano changed his position so as to reciprocate with art and
participation what the boy thought he was giving to him. Once giving and
receiving overlapped, Maurizio could relax a little and the situation
became less burdensome for Stefano, who managed to shorten that weird
union by bringing himself and the boy to unload at the same time, one in
the other's mouth, in a strangely unfeeling orgasm.

But even at this peak of pleasure there was no satisfaction. Poor
Maurizio's stomach was no more prepared for this climax than the rest of
his body. He gagged and rushed to the bathroom, hands pressed on his
mouth, face red, eyes popping out - his body nearly doubled over.

Stefano heard him retch once, then again. The toilet flushed. The sink
tap ran. He felt the impulse to go to assist, but told himself that it
would be better to leave the boy alone.

Maurizio came back into the bedroom drooping, pale, his cheeks wet with
tears of shame. He crouched near the man on his heels. They looked at
each other in empty silence for a few moments.

"Christ, Stef... I spoiled everything... everything... I'm sorry... so
sorry. "

"It couldn't have worked, Maurizio," Stefano answered, now hurting and
sad, though he didn't know whether it was for himself or for the boy.

"But it had to work! I wanted to make you happy. "

"You tried. It just didn't work. It's only logical."

"But why?"

"Because you are not gay."

"What does that matter?" the boy murmured, then added hesitantly,
hopefully, "Maybe next time it will go better. "

"There will not be a next time, Maurizio." Stefano said gently taking
the boy's hand and kissing it.

"Why not?"

"Because you hate doing it, it's obvious."

"But you want me t' give ya pleasure, so I'll give it to ya!" Maurizio
stated with determination, with solemn seriousness, "It won't be s' bad
for me, if ya want it from me."

"Thank you, Maurizio. You are really nice to say that. I think I am
beginning to understand that you really do love me. "

"I'd do anything for ya, you know it."

"Yes, I know that now. That's why I cannot ask you, even allow you to do
something that disgusts you so much. You would never ask me to do
something for you I hate, right?"

"But you... you need somebody t' care for your pleasure, don't ya?"
Maurizio asked perplexed. Stefano felt his heart fill with tenderness
for that big boy who was so near him, still upset at his failure.

"I'll manage, one way or another, as I always have." Stefano answered.

"But..."

"But, what, Maurizio?"

"I don't like it at all when ya take someone from th' pub up t' yer
place. I feel hurt when you do that. I want it t' be only with me, you
and me..." Maurizio murmured while new tears flew on his cheeks.

"Oh, Maurizio!" Stefano said sadly, "You ask too much - both of me and
of yourself."

"So I'm not enough for ya? I don't deserve ya? I'm no value at all t'
ya, right?" the boy moaned.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Stefano whispered, "That's not true, it's just..."

"You don't believe that I love ya, right? You said once that I w'd never
be able t' love, right?" the boy said, desperate, his eyes filled with
pain.

"Yes, Maurizio, I believe you, yes. It is just that you love only the
way I give you pleasure, and perhaps also my company - but not my body,
my male body. You love what my mouth and my hands give you, but not the
rest of me - not my cock. You are not gay, as I am, Maurizio - my sweet
Maurizio. If you want my friendship, I will never deny it to you, on the
contrary... But we can't have sex again; you need to know that."

Maurizio exhaled a short, deep sob. Stefano pulled the boy to him and
embraced him, wrapping and cuddling him, like the boy once did with him.

The days of convalescence passed. Maurizio was quiet, calm, attentive as
always, but there was no more joy in his eyes. Stefano felt sorry for
that, but told himself that it would pass. Then the boy would go back
with women - and not with girls. Of that he was sure. Then he would
regain his good humor.

"May I come upstairs with ya?" Maurizio asked hesitantly at his house,
"And stay th' night?"

"No, Maurizio. Tomorrow morning you have to go to work. Go back home
now."

"Can I come t' see ya, sometime?"

"To the pub, any time you want. I'll always be happy to see you at the
pub."

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 12

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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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