Date: Sat, 13 Aug 2005 19:15:35 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: Italian Brothers 2 - Tano & Maso - 01/11 (historical)

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ITALIAN BROTHERS 2
TANO & MASO
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2005
written September 2nd, 1993
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by Matt & Dave

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"ITALIAN BROTHERS 2 - TANO & MASO" 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 1. A Way to Make It Pass

Gaetano rose up and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm. He
looked around and saw his brothers, his cousins and all the others
continuing to reap the wheat down the field, making an almost straight
line, and it almost seemed like that they didn't feel the sun's heat. He
asked himself how they managed.

"Tano! It's not rest time yet!" he heard his father's voice thunder.

The boy bent down again and started to reap once more with a will,
feeling his father's severe eyes on him. Grasp, cut, grasp, cut, grasp,
cut, then to tie up all the wheat and to start again -- this way, always
this way, for hours. If it was at least his own wheat! You toil, toil,
and toil, and in the end, only a handful for you and all the rest for
the master -- it's a "Lousy world!" as his father always said.

Gaetano thought that he would die in this way, as did his grandfather,
and sooner or later his father -- on the land irrigated by his sweat,
and not even in a bed like a Christian!

"What is this life?" he murmured quietly while he was tying another
sheaf.

He started to reap again. The sickle's handle was hurting his aching,
reddened hands -- those hands that he had been so proud of, those hands
that they said were destined to hold the bow of a violin but instead had
to handle a sickle! It's a "lousy world" for sure!

When he was eleven years old, the parish priest said to his family that
Gaetano had a real talent for music, therefore, in spite of his family's
unwillingness, he finally convinced the boy's parents to send him to the
town to take violin lessons. A certain Master Folli (and he was really
somewhat of a fool) accepted him as his pupil. As his family didn't have
the needed money to pay for his lessons, somewhat because of the
insistent prayers of the parish priest, somewhat because the boy was
really gifted, the Master took him as a servant. So Gaetano paid for his
lessons by doing servant work for the Master. He slept on a pallet made
of leaves in the downstairs closet, he ate the man's leftovers, but he
was not worse off than at home, on the contrary... He had studied violin
for almost four years and he already started to be quite good, both
because of his talent and the diligence with which he followed the
lessons. He liked playing violin very much.

But just before the harvest that year, one of his brothers, Renzo, two
years older than him, disappeared from home. Some said he enlisted in
the army, others said he followed the gypsies (a caravan passed nearby
exactly on the day he disappeared), others said he went away to seek his
fortune... Be as it was, his father, who said he could not give up
another good pair of arms, went to take Gaetano back and put him to work
at once. Goodbye violin, goodbye dreams, goodbye fool Master Folli,
forever. To Gaetano, this was worse than an icy shower. He didn't cry
because he would be ashamed of being seen crying. But inside him, a
dejected voice continued to repeat, "It is not fair, it's not fair, it's
not fair..."

Finally the break bell rang. They all swarmed to a corner of the field
and gathered under the big oak -- the elders in its shadow, and then the
others, in the order of age, so Gaetano, together with the younger ones,
were in full sun. The women brought a big basket full of bread crusts
and slices of cheese and also some wine amphorae. While the boy was
devouring his scanty food, made tasty by his hunger, Silvio approached
him very quietly. Silvio was his third cousin.

"Hi, Tano!"

"Hi, Silvio!"

"Your brother Renzo really ran away with a gypsy girl?"

"What do I know? He went away, that's all."

"I... might just... run away too!"

Gaetano looked at him, astonished, then said, "Don't let anybody hear
you say that, Silvio, or else they would skin you alive."

"But I can tell you. I know your mouth is tight."

"Yeah!" answered the boy, giving an angry bite to his bread crust. He
didn't know why, but his cousin's words annoyed him. Why? His thoughts
went back to some weeks ago, when he had just come back home for a
little while. One late evening, just before supper, he went to the
hayloft, to be alone and quiet for a while.

But after a while, Silvio arrived, "What are you doing here? This is my
place!"

"It is yours? No way! You didn't put your mark here, did you?" Gaetano
answered while chewing a straw stem and remaining stretched out, his
arms under his head, his legs spread, almost to make his cousin
understand he had no intention to leave him that place.

"I was coming here when you were in town, therefore I came here before
you did, and therefore it's mine!" his cousin stubbornly said, looking
at him, frowned, but not belligerently.

"You say that. And then," he added in a conciliating tone, "such fuss --
there is room for two here, isn't it?"

"But not for what I came here to do," his cousin answered with a giggle.

"And what are you going to do here, somersaults?" Gaetano then asked
jokingly.

Silvio looked at him, knitting his forehead, as he did whenever he was
thinking very hard. Gaetano was looking at his slender body, waiting for
his cousin to say something, determined not to move aside. Silvio was
sixteen years old, one year older than him. The worn out shirt and the
breeches tied at his waist with a piece of thin rope, barely covered an
already firm body.

His cousin knelt near Gaetano, and while continuing to look at him with
his knitted forehead, asked him with an almost conspiratorial tone,
"Tell me, Tano, you... are you already ripe?"

"What's that? I am not a fig!" Gaetano retorted, amused by that
unexpected and weird question.

"No, I mean... At times... Don't you feel an... urge?"

"For what?" the boy asked, not understanding the question.

"Come on! Don't you get an urge in you, an urge, that's all, an urge
that... well... you feel all weird and...your prick... awakens."

The boy understood what his cousin meant, and then admitted, "Well, yes,
sure, it happens..."

"And then, what do you do?"

"What do I do? I wait for it to pass, don't you?"

"Not me," Silvio said with a superior smile on his lips, "I make it
pass."

"And how? You tell it to lie down and it goes down?" Gaetano asked him
with a little sneer.

"No! Curley taught me how to do it."

"Oh, Curley? And how do you do it?"

"You really don't know?"

"No way, I don't know," Gaetano answered, irritated.

"Well if... if you swear you won't tell anybody, I'll teach you..."

"I swear," Gaetano answered, barely made curious.

"Not that way! Do the solemn oath!" Silvio said sternly.

Then Gaetano sat up, and crossing his two index fingers on his lips,
uttered seriously, "Wooden Cross, Iron Cross, if I speak of that, I go
to hell. Iron Cross, Wooden Cross, if I speak of that, I deserve death."

"Good," Silvio said then, feeling assured. "Now you open your breeches
and lower them, Tano."

"My breeches? And for what?"

"I have to teach you how you make it pass, don't I?"

"But mine is not up now."

"Well, no problem. First we make it stand up, and then we will make it
go back down, right? You'll see it's great."

Gaetano was not really persuaded, but he complied. So Silvio taught
Gaetano how to masturbate. Gaetano liked it, therefore after that day,
they did it again. They even did it to each other, and rather often,
with mutual pleasure. Gaetano didn't tell anybody; therefore Silvio was
sure that Gaetano was able to keep his mouth shut.

"We will talk about it this evening, Silvio, up in the hayloft."

"Yes, sure. Up in the hayloft. After we make it pass."

"After we make it pass," the boy confirmed with a condescending smile.

So that evening the two boys met in the hayloft, like on many other
occasions, they untied their breeches, lowered them and lay on the hay,
parallel. Each of them seized his cousin's cock and they slowly
masturbated, savoring that secret pleasure they were giving each other.
After they reached their orgasms and sated their desires, they tidied
up, and started to talk about Silvio's idea of running away. Little by
little, Gaetano also became convinced that it would probably be better
to run away than to continue that life.

On the following days, the two cousins talked about it again, and
gradually started to lay out a plan, more and more determined to run
away. Pilfering from the larder, they gathered a small bundle of dry
food that they hid in the hayloft. And finally one evening, Gaetano told
his family he was going to sleep at Silvio's, and his cousin said he
would sleep at Gaetano's. Sometimes they slept at each other's houses,
so nobody thought it was strange and they had nothing to object. But the
two boys met at the hayloft, took their little bundle of food and
marched away, trying to get as far away from their houses as possible.
They furtively passed though the village in the dead of night, when
there was not a living soul on the streets. Just some dogs barked at
their passage, but nobody came out to check. In the morning, they were
already walking along the river, on the road leading to the sea. They
followed the waterway, going downstream.

In mid morning they saw some men loading a barge. Gaetano, signaling his
cousin to follow him, went to the dock, "Hey, you, where are you going
with that load?"

"To Contarina."

"Oh, we have to go right there. Would you take us with you on your
barge?"

"It's not a passengers' transport, this one!"

"It is that our parish priest told us that our mother, who is in
Contarina, is dying and she wants to see us..." Gaetano said with a sad
tone.

The man scratched his head, looked at the two boys, then said, "Well...
in this case... we all are good Christians and... a mother is always a
mother. Well, give us a hand to load and then to unload, and I'll take
you with us."

The two boys helped willingly and so they left with the men, going down
the river on the big barge, enjoying the landscapes on the banks of the
wide water way. Arriving at their destination, they helped the men to
unload, then went away.

"And now what do we do? Where do we go?" Silvio asked, suddenly feeling
lost, so far from home.

"We go somewhere, some big place, to seek our fortunes."

"Yes... but where?"

"What do I know? Walk, now!" Gaetano shortly answered, starting to walk.
Silvio followed him.

They stopped just once to eat something and to catch their breath, near
a stream, whose water they drank, then resumed their way. After a while,
they crossed a passerby.

"Where does this road lead?" Gaetano asked.

"Where do you want to go?" the man answered, looking at them.

"Is there a big town in this direction?" Gaetano asked.

"In Venice's land or in the Pope's land?" the man asked.

"Where is the biggest and nearest town?" Gaetano insisted.

"The biggest or the nearest?" the man quietly asked.

"Tell me about both of them," the boy answered, somewhat irritated.

"Well then, in this direction, there is Mesola, which belongs to the
Pope. In the other direction, there is Chioggia that belongs to Venice.
Chioggia is bigger but farther, Mesola on the contrary..." the man
started to say.

But Gaetano interrupted him, "Well then, we will go to Mesola," he said
determinedly, and without saying goodbye to the man, resumed his way.

"Why are we going to the Pope's land?" Silvio asked when they were far
from the man.

"Because it is more difficult for them to find us there, isn't it?"
Gaetano answered, thinking that Silvio really didn't understand
anything.

They walked fast. But when they reached the border, the guards on the
bridge stopped them. They couldn't go any further without a pass.
Gaetano nodded, and without insisting, turned back, followed by his
cousin.

"We give up?" Silvio asked.

"No way! In a while it will be dark. I think we can get across by
swimming either upstream or downstream. Anyway, I think downstream would
be better."

"But I can't swim..."

"I can. What do you want to do, then?"

"I think... I think that I... that I would go back..."

"What? Do you give up so easily? And then, what will you tell them? They
will ask you where you went, where I am..."

"I'll say I know nothing about you. I'll say that I went... I went...
that I went to meet a girl..."

"And they will ask you who she is."

"And I will say that she doesn't want me to tell her name."

"Are you really determined to go back?"

"I think so... If you want to go swimming... and then I, in the Pope's
land... they possibly speak Latin and who can understand then?"

"As you want. But... keep your mouth shut, understood?"

"Of course."

So, after dividing in half the food they still had, they said farewell
and parted. Gaetano was somewhat sorry that Silvio didn't have the
courage to continue, but on the other hand, he wanted to cross the
river. And he could just swim, therefore...

He waited for nightfall to walk on the bank, and he stopped at a point
that seemed to be good for swimming across the river -- the current
seemed weak. When it was dark enough, he slipped into the water and
started to swim. But the current was dragging him downwards so he had to
swim longer than he foresaw. When he finally reached the other bank, he
was exhausted. At a certain point, he even feared that he couldn't go
forth and neither back, but happily, he was now at last in the Pope's
land.

"It's not so different from the land on the other side," he confusedly
thought while he collapsed on the grass and almost immediately sank into
a deep sleep.

The sun and the crows' calls awakened him. His clothes were dry on his
front but damp on his back, where they touched the grass. The food, wet,
had an odd taste, but Gaetano ate it anyway -- he was hungry. Then, he
stood up. After carefully stretching, he started walking. As soon as he
went up the bank, he saw some houses not so far away. He went towards
them, cutting through the fields.

When he reached the houses, he asked the first passerby, "This is
Mesola, right?"

"Mesola? No, my son, this is Goro."

"Goro? But we are in the Pope's land, aren't we?"

"Yes, sure. But where are you going, to Mesola?"

"No, no. A bigger town, but I forgot its name..."

The man looked at him with an interrogative air, and then said, "There
are a lot of towns... Codigoro, Comacchio... there is Ravenna..."

"The biggest one?"

"Ravenna, for sure."

"And where is it?"

"After Comacchio, further south. But on foot, my son, it will take you
days and days. It could be something like fifty leagues."

"He, who does not have a donkey, uses his feet," Gaetano answered with a
proverb, smiling at the man and shrugging his shoulders.

"But if you can find somebody going there by sea, then you won't have to
wear your feet out..." the man suggested.

"I know nobody here. What can I do?"

"The Sweep here goes down to Cervia once a week to fetch wheat flour
sacks. I know him and if he hasn't left already, you can talk with him.
Possibly, in exchange for some coins, he would take you with him on his
boat."

"Coins? I have as many coins as horns on an angel!" Gaetano answered
with a smile.

"Oh, I see..."

"But possibly... I could help that friend of yours to load and unload...
If you talk with him..." the boy proposed, recalling the previous
experience he had on the barge.

The man told him to follow him. He talked with the Sweep who, after
thinking for a long while, in the end agreed to transport the boy in
exchange for his help to load and unload. In this way, Gaetano went to
Marina di Ravenna. He roamed around the port. He was hungry and had no
more food. So he went to the inns to beg for a piece of bread, but
without any luck. At the umpteenth tavern, he was about to go out
empty-handed as usual, when a man signaled him to go to his table.

"Are you calling me, lord?"

"Yes, I'm calling you, boy. And I'm no lord at all. Our Lord died on a
cross. I'm a captain."

"A captain? Are you a soldier?"

"No, I am a captain of a ship. Are you hungry, boy?"

"Eh, even half as hungry as I am would still be too much."

"If you are hungry, it means you have no job and no family."

"You are right."

"Listen, then. I need a new ship boy on board. You become my ship boy
and I will give you food, bed and clothes. Are you game?"

"Well... yes... But I don't know what a ship boy has to do. What is a
ship boy? If you will first explain me, Captain..."

"He is a boy who carries out the heavy works on board, sweeps the
bridge, helps the cook, empties the bilge, and... does anything that the
sailors ask him to do, in short. You never went on a ship, did you?"

"Never. Mine, was a family of country people."

"Was?" the captain asked.

"Yes, I remained alone..." Gaetano said, assuming a serious expression
and spreading his arms with a dejected look.

"I see. So, then, do you like my offer?"

"But... eating, when?"

"Now. Then we go on board. In a while, there will be high tide and we
will set sail."

Gaetano ate with gusto what the man ordered for him and thought he never
ate so well and so much in all his life -- a bowl filled with bean soup
and hard bread in small pieces soaked in it, and even two little pieces
of tasty rind.

Satisfied, he followed the man to his ship. The man introduced him to
his crew who were busy preparing to leave the port. Besides the captain,
there was the assistant, two men called Corsican and Fiore and a young
man called Moor, with a ring on his left ear. Corsican was also the cook
on board.

"Show the boy where he sleeps and give him some more suitable rags," the
captain said, entrusting the boy to Moor. The young man led the boy
under the deck.

"See, here sleeps Corsican, here is my berth, behind there, Fiore. Your
place is here, near Fiore. Now come here, I'll find something that you
can wear."

In a corner of the room, there was a trunk. Moor opened it and rummaged
inside, then took out some clothes, which he handed to the boy, "These
should fit you. Change your clothes, now."

Gaetano nodded. Without feeling any shame (he did it so many times in
front of his brothers or cousins) he took off his breeches and what
remained of his shirt, remaining completely naked. Then he slipped on
the breeches of rough gray cloth and the wide shirt made of the same
cloth. Moor looked at him in silence and Gaetano didn't notice the
attentive glances and the pleased light that appeared in the young man's
eyes when he observed his nudity.

"You'll see, you'll be fine here with us, if you'll carry on nicely all
your ship boy duties... If you obey all of us..." Moor said, putting his
hand on the boy's ass, and with a sneaky smile, pushed him towards the
ladder and then went out.

Gaetano at once started to work. The rule on board was simple -- there
was a rigid hierarchy, everybody had to obey the Captain and his
assistant, then came Fiore, then Corsican and then Moor. The ship boy
was the last, so he had to obey everybody else "without any question."
Corsican explained this to him and the boy nodded, convinced. And he had
not a single moment to twiddle his thumbs, at least until the departure.
"Boy, here!" "Boy, sweep the cabin!" "Boy, peal the potatoes!" "Boy..."

But at last evening came, and besides the one at the rudder and the man
on watch, the others could hit their berths in turns. Gaetano, when they
said he could go to sleep, tired but happy, went under the deck and lay
where Moor showed him. Corsican was already noisily snoring. Although he
was tired, the boy was not able to fall asleep at once -- the ship's
rolling, so unusual to him, the cracking of the structure and of the
planking, the oil lamp's creating of odd shadows in perpetual movement,
fascinated and frightened him at once. But the tiredness and the same
rolling, gentle like the rolling of a cradle, finally made him close his
eyes.

It was the dead of night when the first shift ended. The assistant took
the place of the man at the rudder and Corsican went on watch, so Fiore
and Moor went down to sleep. And Gaetano woke up.

The men were quite silent, but he felt an odd sensation that slowly
penetrated his dreams and took him back to the reality. He opened his
eyes and saw that Moor was lying near him, and put his arm around his
waist, pulling him against his body.

"What's up? It's time to get up?" the boy sleepily asked.

"Shush, don't talk," Moor whispered, continuing to pull the boy against
his body.

"But... was this not Fiore's place?"

"We swapped places. Now it's me to sleep here, with you," Moor answered
with a lusty smile, placing his hand between the boy's legs and groping
him.

Gaetano had an instinctive jolt to escape him, but the young man was
holding him firmly and continued to grope him.

"What are you doing?" Gaetano asked, now completely awake, but still in
a low voice.

"The ship boy is on board also for this..."

"This... what?" the boy asked, slightly troubled and embarrassed for
that hand, which was giving him a hard-on.

"Shut up, boy, and do anything I ask you to, understood?" Moor answered,
continuing to finger him with one hand while with the other he untied
his own breeches at the sides and lowered the front, so revealing his
member, already fully erect.

Gaetano looked between his legs, troubled but fascinated at the same
time. Then he confusedly thought that it was probably going to be like
when he did it with Silvio, and this would not be bad at all, so he
calmed down. He stretched out his hand to hold that rod, thick, hot and
hard, and started to manipulate it, looking at Moor's eyes, and saw in
them approbation and a smile. Then he started to quietly masturbate the
young man, and felt a diffused pleasure in handling that member of a
respectable size. It was the first time he could see and touch the
member of an adult, and he felt great. After a while, Moor guided him
between his wide spread legs, made him crouch there and pushed his head
down towards his stiff member.

Gaetano raised his head and looked at him without understanding what the
man wanted from him, therefore he asked in a whisper, "What... what do I
have to do, now?"

"Lick it. Suck it!"

The boy looked at that flesh weapon aimed at him, and thought it was a
weird request. The hand of the young man pushed the boy's head down
furthermore and the hot member brushed his cheek. Gaetano then started
to do what the man asked him to do. At first he though it was funny
licking that hard and smooth flesh pole, but when he took it in his
mouth, he had a good feeling. When he became aware that his attention
was pleasing the man, he thought amusedly that Silvio didn't know this
other way to give pleasure.

"Don't make me feel your teeth, boy. Use your lips," Moor whispered and
Gaetano complied.

Guided by the young man's hands, which were holding his head, he found
the right rhythm. He liked feeling that hot and hard rod slipping
between his lips, against his tongue. After a while Moor pushed him
away, opened the boy's breeches and pulled then off. Gaetano let him do
it, and facilitated the man's effort -- he liked very much feeling the
hands of the man on him, he felt shudders of pleasure all along his
spine.

The young man made him kneel and pushed his chest against the pallet. He
knelt at his back and made his own breeches go down to his knees. He wet
his finger with spit and started to prepare the boy. Gaetano didn't
understand what the man was about to do, but waited in silence. The
sailor continued to lube the boy's hole with his spit many times, each
time pushing his finger a little deeper. It wasn't annoying, but it was
a strange feeling, Gaetano thought. But he mainly couldn't understand
what fun Moor could get from touching him in that way. When the sailor
swapped his finger with something bigger and started to push with
determined vigor, Gaetano felt pain and emitted a yell, but it was at
once suffocated by the man's strong hand that firmly shut his mouth.

Gaetano tried to wriggle away, but Moor was strong and determined, and
the boy's movements only seemed to unwillingly help the powerful pushes
of the sailor. At last, the man was firmly and totally embedded inside
him. Then the young man started to move his pelvis in a slow
back-and-forth motion, always holding the boy firmly so that he couldn't
escape him, and keeping his mouth shut.

Gaetano, as all his desperate attempts to oppose were useless, at last
gave up fighting and abandoned himself, defeated, under the strong body
that was pumping inside him mercilessly, and told himself that it was
somewhat like what dogs did at times, mounting each other, even between
two males. He never thought that two men could also do it. He completely
surrendered. Moor became aware of that. So one of his hands went between
the boy's legs, and while continuing to fuck him with unchanged vigor,
he masturbated the boy. Gaetano noticed that now he was also starting to
feel pleasure, mixed with pain, and the pleasure was increasing,
increasing, increasing, until the boy burst out in a strong orgasm that
vibrated all through his body. The sailor continued to fuck him for some
minutes, until he also ejaculated, strongly pulling the inert body of
the boy to himself. And all came to an end.

Without a word, they tidied themselves, lay down, and at last they fell
asleep.

While he was falling asleep, Gaetano thought that after all, it was
worth enduring the pain that this way of "making it pass" had brought,
as it also brought him a very intense pleasure. And anyway, Moor had
made it clear -- a ship boy was also on board for that purpose.

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

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 2

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