Date: Mon, 15 Feb 1999 15:10:20 +0900
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: 25 years 05

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

I started writing gay stories in 1985 and to now I wrote about 80 of
them. Being Italian, of course I wrote them in Italian. Now, many of my
friends asked me to translate them in English. But my English, also if
understandable, is surely not a "literary" one: I can't know all the
nuances and literary tricks I can use in Italian. I need somebody
revising my translation. Now, I found a person that is kindly helping me
with my stories. But I can't ask to one single person to help me with
all of my stories. So, if amongst you there is somebody (with a good
English style) that thinks this unpaid work worthy, and wants to help
me, I would be really happy. If such a person exists, can send me an
e-mail at:

andrejkoymasky@geocities.com

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

LIFE BEGINS AT TWENTY FIVE
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 1998
written the 27th of June, 1994
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by Jacques Dubois.

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

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"LIFE BEGINS AT TWENTY FIVE" 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, ore because you think yo really want to read it, please be my
welcomed guest.

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

FIVE - THE ENCOUNTER

Jacques's mother was more excited than he was. She thoroughly cleaned
the apartment, prepared a cake to offer to her son's guest, put a wine
bottle in the refrigerator and wore her Sunday dress. Jacques had
decided to stay in his track suit and she couldn't convince her son to
at least wear a clean suit. Even if this guy was just a gay magazine
journalist, the woman thought, he was a journalist. And it was a chance
to distract her unlucky son.

Recently she had noticed that Jacques was a little more serene than
usual, even if she didn't know the reason for it. The woman didn't think
the time her son spent at the telescope had to do with that change in
humor, since the boy was at the telescope before. But the fact of seeing
him more serene, whatever the reason could be, relieved also the woman.
In fact, even if she tried not to show that to her son, in order not to
add pain to pain, she always was really worried about the subtle
background sadness of Jacques. The woman had the impression that, at
times, both her son and she were outdoing each other to show they were
carefree...lying to each other. This also, in some way, was a reciprocal
proof of love, even if she would have liked to have a better confidence
with her son, especially since beside her, he had nobody. At least other
boys can open their hearts to friends, can unburden themselves, can
confront their fears, but all that was denied to her poor Jacques...

The door bell rang.

"Here he is!" the woman murmured with emotion going to answer, and for
the umpteenth time she arranged her hair just a moment before opening
the door.

"Excuse me, madame, is this Monsieur Jacques Moiret's home?" Alain asked
with an hesitant voice when saw the woman, in fact he didn't think a
middle aged woman would open the door.

"Yes, please come in... I'm his mother." the woman said with a wide
smile.

Alain made a rapid mental calculation: if the writer was her son, he
must be no more than twenty five years old... Very good.

"Ah. How do you do? I'm Paul Allan, the journalist." he smiling said and
looked at the entrance of the modest flat.

"How do you do. It's a pleasure... Come in, come in, please. My son is
waiting for you." thoughtfully the woman shifted aside, bid him enter
and pass through a small living room with the kitchen furnished with
old, cheap pieces of furniture, and knocked at a door. "Jacques, a
mister... the journalist is here."

"Come in." a voice said.

Alain thought that he liked that voice. It was low, warm, agreeable. The
woman opened the door and again shifted aside to make the guest enter
and thoughtfully said:

"I'll leave you alone..." and closed the door at Alain's shoulders.

Alain saw the young man (wow, isn't he handsome? he thought) then
noticed the wheelchair and stopped, slightly surprised. But he was even
more astounded when he saw that on the writer's face incredibly strong
emotions were alternating, and he couldn't guess the reason for that.

When the door was open and his mother shifted aside, Jacques at once
recognized "his Paul" and felt his heart jolting in his chest, then
stopping. With a very thin voice he asked:

"How... how did you find me? How could you know about me?"

Alain didn't understand the sense of that question and hesitantly
answered: "I've read your works and I wanted to meet you. I got your
name and address from the magazine, as you know..."

"Do you work at Gay Pied?" Jacques asked feeling his head spinning,
completely confused, contemplating Alain as if he were a vision, then
asked: "... and is your name really Paul?"

"Yes, I work for Gay Pied but my name is not really Paul, I'm Alain. I
chose that pseudonym after reading this." he pulled out from his
briefcase a copy of "My Boy" showing it to Jacques.

"Sit down." whispered Jacques trying to co-ordinate his thoughts but not
succeeding at all.

Alain sat: "Excuse me, but... do you feel ok?" he worriedly asked.

"Yes, that is, I don't know. I'm confused. How... How did you know you
were Paul?"

"I? Yes... I thought that but... how can I really be him? This is the
first time we met. What do you mean saying that Paul is me?" Alain
asked, also starting to feel confused.

"Why did you ask for this interview, then?"

"Well, I... I hope you will not become upset with me, now, but... I am a
passionate reader of your stories and your novels for a long time. I
also wrote you a letter, last year, through the magazine that I signed
with the name Charles. Reading your last novel, I felt so strongly the
desire to know you, because... well, the truth is that through your
writing I... I fell in love with you!" he said with a low voice Alain
and immediately asked himself if he didn't ruin all starting with that
confession.

But he couldn't avoid saying those words. All the nice speeches he had
prepared vanished like dew under the sun when at last he was in front of
that such attractive boy.

"What? What are you saying?" Jacques asked, widening his eyes.

"Yes. That's why, having no other means to find who you were, where you
lived, I became in a day sports reporter for Gay Pied. The magazine
liked my first interview so they hired me as a part-time journalist and
at least I got your address. Because I wanted to know you, to meet you,
to tell you that, just as I said, I'm in love with you. That I would
like to know you better and that if you... I you too liked me... well,
that I would really like to..." Alain said, more and more embarrassed
and confused, continuing to think that he was ruining all his chances
but unable not to tell all the truth. He couldn't lie, play with words
with the boy he was in love with.

"In love with me? No, not with me, but with my writing."

"But in your writing there is you. Your sensitivity, your potential
love, and I would like to be the subject of your love. You love Paul,
well I would like to really be that Paul."

"But you ARE Paul, don't you understand?"

"What does that mean?" always confused, Alain asked.

"From September of the last year I... Well, now I feel rather ashamed,
but... do you see that?" he said pointing at his telescope.

"The telescope?"

"Right. Try and look in it."

"In this?" Alain asked but stood up and complied to Jacques's request.
He put his eye to the viewfinder and gave a little start: "But that...
that's my room! So you... so you... so I'm really Paul! Then you... you
are in love with me!" Alain said and felt like a thrill shaking him more
and more strongly.

"Yes." wailed Jacques.

"But I too am in love with you! That's... incredible, but wonderful. We
fell in love, you through the telescope, I through your writings." Alain
said and felt incredibly happy for that discovery.

"But I saw you, saw your beauty. You, at the contrary... look at me!
immobilized in a wheelchair. A poor disabled guy."

"But I saw beauty in your soul, in your writings. You are a splendid
person."

"It is not possible, don't you understand?"

"Do you have...have a lover, then. I see. I guessed it." Alain said, a
little hesitant, a little disappointed.

"Oh, no. Who do you think could desire to be the lover of a poor
handicapped guy in a wheelchair?"

"No? Really? You have no lover? Then I... I would like to be your
lover." the boy said full of emotion.

"Come on! What's that, the Beauty and the Beast? But your love cannot
transform me in a handsome prince, can it?" Jacques said with bitter
irony.

"To me, you are a handsome prince. And you love me, if I am Paul. I've
read that in each and every page of this book, or rather, in each line,
in each word. I know it almost by heart."

"Forget it! Let's do the interview, that'll be better."

"The interview was just a pretext to come to meet you, to let you know
me, with the hope you could like me, to be lovers."

"Forget it, please."

"No. I want to be your lover, I want that finally your love for Paul
becomes love for Alain. Jacques, why are you fleeing away, now that at
last we met, seeing each other in person?"

"I had, in the past, a boy that tried hard to love me, but he couldn't
endure. I don't want a new disillusionment. I know my destiny is to be
alone, I got used to this idea. Leave me to my life, please. Forget it."

"No. I love you and you love me. I don't need to try hard, to strive to
love you!"

"Don't insist..." Jacques wearily said.

His mother knocked at the door: "May I come in? I would like to offer
something to mister, the journalist..." she said with a merry voice from
behind the door.

"Come in." Jacques answered with resigned voice, but at the same time
almost happy for that interruption.

The woman opened the door and entered with a tray with the cake cut in
slices, the wine bottle and two glasses.

She put it all on Jacques's desk: "Help yourself, please. I made the
cake, it's nothing special, just an old country recipe." she said with a
smile and again left them alone.

"My mother!" Jacques said with a tender smile, slightly shaking his
head.

"She seems a likeable person."

"Well, she does what she can, poor mom."

"And... your father?"

"Dead. In the accident that reduced me to this."

"Then, just the two of you?

"Right."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen: it happened nine years ago."

"But... what is exactly the problem?"

"My legs cannot hold me up any more, at all. Do you see? Problem to the
spine, to the nerve system."

"And that's the reason you want to renounce to... to accept my love? I
can't see the connection, really, I can't."

"Paul... sorry, Alain, yours is not love, I mean, you are in love with a
mental image, you are in love with my writings, not with me."

"But I want to love you. Why you don't want to allow me?"

"Because I'm not persuaded that..."

"In your book you wrote that you would like to love me, to give me and
to receive from me love. I'm here, right? For you."

"The book I wrote also said that it was an impossible love."

"Because you thought that I never could notice you, but you were
mistaken. Your message has reached me, has persuaded me. Jacques, let me
love you."

"No..." the young man almost wined and turned the wheelchair wheels so
that he was now turning his back to Alain.

The boy then said: "All right, agreed. You refuse my love. Do you at
least accept my friendship? At least that, can you accept?"

"Friendship?" Jacques asked, without turning around.

"Yes. Now that I've found you, I don't want all ending here. I want to
meet you again, to talk with you, to get to know you better, to make me
known."

"I have no friends."

"Well, I would like to be your friend."

"You'll get tired."

"Did you get tired watching me? In all those nine months, did you get
tired? Or do you think you'll soon get tired?"

"Getting tired? Me? I've nothing else. I really cannot afford to get
tired: it is a too costly a luxury to be tired. I write novels, I do
proof reading for a publisher, I look at my telescope... All my life is
here. You cannot compare your life to mine. You have thousands
possibilities, but I..."

"So, let me at least try to become your friend."

"Well... and if my answer was no?" Jacques asked turning again to look
at him almost defiantly.

"You don't know me, I'm a stubborn guy. Will you try? Will you see who
is more determined, if I in my will to be at least your friend or you
with your no?" Alain answered, returning him the same look.

Jacques smiled and nodded slightly, but for a good while, studying Alain
expression. Them emitting a faint sigh, he murmured: "OK, let's try.
What do we have to do to become friends?"

"Talk, being around each other, opening up little by little the one to
the other, trusting each other as we get to know each other."

"Good. Let's talk, meet, know each other, then. Who are you? What do you
do? What are you thoughts?"

"Well... my father and my mother met at a dancing party. They liked each
other. They made love a couple of times, until my mother understood I
was on the way. So they married and after six months, I was born..."
Alain quietly started to say.

Jacques was listening while his guest continued to tell him all he knew
or remembered of his childhood.

Alain parted from Jacques several hours later. He had been the only one
to speak almost all the time. When he went away, the mother went to see
Jacques.

"He was young! But that journalist was nice. And if he works for Gay
Pied, he has to be gay, right?"

"Yes."

"Sure. Really nice, and he was also very handsome, refined, elegant. He
stayed here for quite a long time, right?"

"Mmmh."

"At the end it seemed that he was the only one to talk. But he said he
will come again, right? Does he need to end the interview"

"Bah... he just wants to talk again with me."

"Don't you like him?"

"Mum, cut it out!" Jacques tried to interrupt her.

"Well, did I say something wrong? He IS a handsome boy, nice and you say
he wants to talk with you again. And he is gay."

"Exactly. And you imagine who knows what!" Jacques surly said going to
his computer to stop that discussion.

"I... well, I've done that..." the woman hesitantly said, then shrug her
shoulders and, silently, went to prepare for supper.

Jacques imperceptibly sighed and started to write his novel's
continuation, writing down quite integrally his meeting with Paul, just
omitting he was Alain and that he found him through Gay Pied. Writing as
he could, little by little, he calmed down. That visit had literally put
him in turmoil. Having him so near, his Paul in the flesh, had been a
too strong emotion. And hearing him say, insist: I love you! Ha, he was
just a young boy, an idealist. Alain will get over it. Yes, probably he
would get over it as he more rapidly giving him rope to hang himself,
letting him to try to set up a friendship... Alain, an athlete, will get
tired of him who was, as he defined himself after reading Paul-Alain
interviews on Gay Pied to the athletes, the "anti-athlete" par
excellence.

Meanwhile, Alain was back home. His head still in turmoil. He found
Jacques, and the young man had refused his love. He said it was not
love, it was not possible. And yet to him, the fact that Jacques was
immobilized on a wheelchair, didn't seem at all an obstacle to the fact
they could love each other. He liked Jacques and even, in several
occasion, just being near him had aroused him. His face was really
pretty, and then, he had eyes, and a smile, that had really charmed him.
And beautiful hands. OK, he wasn't an Adonis, but he liked him also
physically. But above all he liked Jacques's personality. Well, he did
accept to meet again... he was more than decided to conquer him, however
long it took. He wanted Jacques, he wanted to become Jacques's lover, he
wanted Jacques' love. He was more than determined.

During dinner he was asked why he was so pensive.

"No, nothing. Probably I'm just a little tired." Alain said, just to
avoid more questions.

After dinner he went up to his room and at once his eyes looked beyond
the park, toward the far buildings: behind one of those windows was
Jacques, and he was possibly looking at him right now. He waved one
hand, hoping he was at his telescope. He remembered that he forgot to
ask him an autograph on his book, he had to remember that next time. His
eyes continued to turn towards Jacques's house.

He decided to undress for Jacques. He went to the foot of his bed, so
that his body would be completely visible, then started a kind of slow
striptease for his private enjoyment and at that thought he got aroused
so that, when he pulled out also his briefs, he had a full erection. He
felt like masturbating, but then decided it was better not to overdo it.
He prepared his books for the next day's classes, put away the elegant
clothes he wore out and prepared others for the following day, going
around the room, always completely naked. Then he went to shower as
usual.

Jacques didn't see all that. In fact, now that Alain knew about the
telescope, almost a sense of modesty refrained him to use it. It is a
little like, he thought, when he was in school: in the lockers room of
his school gym he spied on the nakedness of a handsome school mate, with
pleasure, until he one was knew. But if the other knew he was watched,
he had to turn away his eyes, making up an indifferent air. But the
desire to look again at Alain's body, after a while, got the upper hand
and even if with a light sense of shame, but also of anticipation, he
went to his telescope.

Alain wasn't in his room, but the light was lit and the curtains, he
noticed with pleasure, completely open as always. He had to be in the
bathroom, that was more or less the time when Alain took his daily
shower. He waited, his heart beating like the first times. He thought
that he would have liked to see him under the shower, or even better, to
be him to wash his body. But he, with his dead legs, couldn't even stand
to take a shower. The bath was ok, especially from when his mother had
the shallow tub set into the floor so that he could enter and come out
without to much pain and just with his arms strength. He loved being
into the water: all his body seemed to become lighter and for some
moments at times he could even forget his condition.

Alain went out from the shower as usual, vigorously brushing his body
with the towel. But instead of just stopping outside of the door, he
stepped towards the window to dry himself. He guessed he was being
watched and he wanted to be seen by Jacques. After a while, in fact, he
waved.

Jacques was growing in emotion. To know that the other knew he was
watched and that was intentionally showing himself to him, began an
unusual heat and excitation in his body. For a moment he called himself
a stupid: but how, that splendid boy wants to make love with you and you
said no? When in your life would you have that chance? Even if he could
get tired of you, why don't you enjoy that one time, or that few times
it would last?

Then he thought about the glorious nudity of Alain, then of his own
white and flabby body and told himself that he would have been ashamed
too much to let Alain see him naked, and even more with Alain naked. No,
it was really unthinkable he could ever make love with that splendid
boy! Such things happens just in the fairy tales, and anyway he never
heard about a Male Cinderella or of Sleeping Beauty who was a Prince.

Alain continued to carefully dry himself in front of the window, more
slowly than usual and with a nice erection. So, he was aroused because
he knew he was being watched, Jacques began to sweat. He desired that
body with all his heart and wanted Alain to become his possession. But
he had to refuse. He had, he had, he had...

---o---

Alain heard a knock, he turned barely towards the door, tightening the
towel around his waist, asked: "Who is it?"

"It's me, Alain. Can I come in?" Didier, his brother, answered.

"Just a moment!" he yelled looking at the towel and noticing it was
clearly stretched out by his erection. In hurry he pulled it out, put on
his briefs and then tucked the towel back around his waist, then finally
went to open the door.

"Alain... ah, were you taking a shower?" the boy said, entering the
room.

"Yes, I just did."

"What was the matter at dinner? I don't think you were tired. It seems
to me... I think instead that you're in love...am I right?" he asked
going to sit on his brother bed.

"Oh, really? And how did you get this idea?" Alain said trying to seem
indifferent, but surprised for his brother shrewdness.

"Come on, we know each other, don't we? Who is she? Do I know her?"

"No..."

"Ha, so I'm right!" the boy said triumphant.

"Well, I didn't feel like talking about it. You know how it is,
especially with our mother. No, i don't feel like talking about."

"With me neither?" Didier asked with an accomplice smile.

"Well, really... no." Alain answered sitting on the chair of his desk
and giving a glance towards the window.

"Why Alain, don't you trust me?"

"No, Didier, it is not that I don't trust you. Just I don't feel like
talking about that. There are things people like to keep for themselves,
right? You don't tell me everything, right? It's normal, even between
brothers."

"I don't think I hide things from you..."

"Now, you've never told me about your sex life, for instance, right? And
I didn't presume you had to. There are things that people like to keep
to themselves, it's just natural."

"But I would have liked to do it, several times. You can talk of it with
your friends, but always in so an idiotic wayw. You are more experienced
than me and... of course, it is not easy to talk about. But I would like
to talk with you about it."

"There are things you just can't say, not even to a brother or to a
friend. At least, for me it is."

"Instead... I would like to tell you. Do you mind?"

"No, Didier, if it's really important for you..."

"See, Alain, three months ago I had had my first experience. After
Jean's birthday party we stopped at his place. It was him, me and two
girls in our class. And...well, Jean started to embrace Annette, they
exchanged kisses, so I tried with Martine and she was game. Annette
started to touch Jean down there, then pulled it out of his trousers and
Martine followed suit and did it to me and... well, Jean and Annette on
the sofa, I and Martine on the arm chair, were kissing and touching
and... Jean wanted to fuck Annette but they didn't have a condom, so
Annette refused. He insisted, she went angry and wanted to go away, so
Martine also went away with her. So, Jean and I, touched ourselves...
each other..."

"Those things happen. Just have always a couple of condom with you, in
your wallet, from now on." Alain said smiling at ease like an
accomplice.

His brother nodded: "Yes, now I have condoms with me, even if the
occasion to use then doesn't come. The problem is... you see... I and
Jean, after that time, did touched each other again... several times..."
the boy said, a little ashamed.

"This also is quite natural, it happens often..."

"Yes, but... Jean, once... we were really excited and we were as usual
touching each other... he said: 'Let's try to suck suck each other'."

"Ah, and then?"

"Well, he started giving me head and in a while I did too..."

"Yes?"

"We came. And I loved coming that way. Well not really so much giving
head but a lot, being sucked. So we did it again, many other times,
and... and I don't know but... do you think I'm becoming gay?"

Alain laughed and shook his head: "I don't know, but I don't think so.
Just you like to come and for the moment that way is the more easy way.
Aren't you anyway attracted by girls?"

"Yes, sure, but... I love doing it with Jean, you see?"

"If you had a girl, would you prefer to do it with Jean or her?"

"I don't know, I don't think so. But I'm not really sure I would give up
with Jean. The fact is that I'm really starting to enjoy it a lot, I
really like it. I mean... I'm starting to like... giving head to Jean."

"OK. Apart from Jean, do you feel attracted by other boys? Or men?"

"No. And then it is not that I'm attracted by Jean, but just by doing
those things." the boy said, slightly blushing and looking at his hands
that he kept intertwined tightly on his lap.

Alain smiled, went to sit next him on the bed and ruffled his hair: "No,
Didier, I don't think you are gay. Anyway, even if you were, or perhaps
if you were just a bisexual boy, does that scare you so much? Is that
your problem?"

"Yes... that is, no... I want to say, one is like him, but he has to
understand, to know how he is... Well I'm rather confused. Jean says I'm
stupid, that we are just two friends playing with themselves because
girls aren't so easy to fuck. But I don't know if he is really right."

"Excuse me, Didier, do you ever have a hard on just thinking to Jean?"
Alain kindly asked him, looking in his eyes.

"No, that no. But I get an hard on thinking about doing it... with
Jean."

"Sure. I really don't think this means you're gay. Soldiers do it,
sailors, in the boarding schools or in the prisons... in a word, all the
males for whom it's difficult or impossible for a more or less long
period to have a girl, a woman. But when they have one, those activities
stop, as I think they will for you."

"Perhaps."

"Listen...it's OK if you don't feel like answering, understand? But do
you touch yourself a lot?"

"Yes, quite often."

"And what are your fantasies when you do it? Jean or the girl you were
talking about? A boy or a girl?"

"A girl..."

"That's it. This is the answer you were looking at. Don't make problems
where they don't exist, Didier. It is really not necessary."

"You... did you also have this problem?"

"Yes, but for me it is different."

"Different? How? Oh, I see, because you have a girl and you can do it
with her, right? That one you are in love with?"

"Not exactly. The fact is that..." Alain started to say, then, looking
his brother straight in his eyes, he concluded: "... I know I'm gay."

"Whaaat? You...? Are you serious?" the boy asked widening his eyes and
looking at his brother with unbelieving air.

"Yes. And now I'm in love, you were right, but with a boy I met. He is
twenty four years old. I was thinking about him, tonight during dinner."

"But...since when do you think you were gay?"

"I didn't think, I am. And since always, more or less."

"And... did you have sex with other men, before?"

"Lot of..."

"And women?"

"No, I'm not at all interested or attracted by women. Well, at twelve I
flirted with, like you with your girl, but nothing substantial. Really I
was not attracted, you see. I was excited. To touch each other, same as
you and Jean, but in my dreams, in my fantasies there weren't girls but
males. No, I'm for sure and totally gay. And this doesn't give me the
faintest problem. Apart the fact I have to hide it. You can guess what
could happen in the family if just they guessed. What's up now? Did I
trouble you with this news?"

"No. Surprised, sure, you are so virile..."

"To be gay doesn't mean to be effeminate. And I don't like effeminate
boys, anyway. I'm a man who loves men, who aren't effeminate.... that
rather bores me..."

"And he? Does he love you?" Didier asked with real concern.

"It's a story a little complicated. He loves me, but he doesn't want to
have a relationship with me... at least for the moment."

"I don't understand..."

"I don't either. But I'm determined to have him, because he is the most
extraordinary person I never met. So, I've decided to court him. Between
two males it is not so different than between male and female. At times
you just need to fuck, at times instead you are in love and then
everything becomes different. And I never was so much in love. It is
wonderful, you know, being in love. All you life changes. In better."

"It's never happened to me, but I believe you. And... do I know him?
What's his name?"

"No, you don't know him, and his name is Jacques."

"Is he handsome?"

"Less than others I had sex in the past, but he shines with an inner
beauty, which is the most really important, a beauty that nobody has."

"Do you have his picture?"

"No, not yet. When I got one, I'll show you. But, keep it under your
hat, ok?"

"Sure. What we tell each other remains only between us, it's understood.
I hope you'll succeed, that you get his love..."

"Thank you Didier. I hope everything will develop nicely. And as I said
to you, don't make problems where there aren't. I don't think you are
gay. You might possibly be bisexual, what wouldn't be bad at all, no? If
it's so, you double your choice of partners..."

Didier smiled, amused at the idea: "I never saw the thing like that..."

They talked a little more, then the boy left his brother and went back
to his room. Alain was happy he had opened up with Didier. To tell
somebody his secret made him feel lighter, more serene. He never felt as
a burden to be forced to keep everything inside himself, but it was an
agreeable sensation to have a confidant in the family. Somebody
accepting him as he was, without problems. And he esteemed his young
brother for the simplicity he had accepted the new of his gayness.

---o---

Jacques watched the long dialog, without guessing that the two brothers,
were talking about him. He just perceived, from their attitude, the
affection that tied them. It had to be good to have a brother with whom
to talk. He never succeeded in talking with his mother about himself,
his desires, his wishes, his sensations. Perhaps because she was a
woman, perhaps because she was his mother. Who knows why he had to be a
only child? Now he felt that as a burden. Before he never thought about
that, but to see the two talking, sitting one near the other, exchanging
affection signs, had made risen in him a kind of nostalgia for something
that had to be beautiful but that he never knew, he never experimented.

---o---

As soon as his brother left, Alain had pulled out his towel and his
briefs and did in the direction of Jacques a gesture quite he meant:
sorry, I had to take care for a while of him. Then he lied on his bed,
turned on his side toward the glass window, his right leg risen at
angle, the left stretched down, in a beautiful plastic pose, and had
started to caress his own body, to arouse himself, and then masturbate.

---o---

Jacques knew that he was doing that for him, and he was excited, so he
freed his turgid member from his clothes and started he to to masturbate
"together" with his Alain. He stopped just for a moment, hastily
covering himself, when his mother knocked at the door to say him good
night. Then, again alone and quiet, put again his eye at the visor and
started again his activity, dreaming to be he too on that bed, near
Alain, to mutually give pleasure. After all, he confusedly thought as
his excitation was increasing and he was feeling the maximum pleasure
moment approaching, that boy was ready to do it with him. He could even
accept it, to feel at last, after years those emotions he so much
dreamed about, thinking he could never more taste them. He was just
twenty four, his sexual energies were at their full and impetuously
pressed to be freed. Someone who is handicapped has the same desires and
passions of any other human being... because he IS a human being...

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

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 06

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In my home page I've put some of my stories. If someone wants to read
them, the URL is

http://www.geocities.com/~andrejkoymasky/

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