Date: Wed, 15 Mar 2000 15:42:13 +0900
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: corporal 02

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

TRILOGY: ITALIAN BROTHERS
BOOK 1 - THE CORPORAL
By Andrej Koymasky (c) 2000
Written on October 21st 1995
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by a friend

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

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"ITALIAN BROTHERS 1 - THE CORPORAL" 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 wnt to read it, please be my welcome guest.

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

CHAPTER 2 - The Handsome Corporal

The bell hadn't yet stroke five o'clock when the first corporal arrived
at the square. Enzo recognized him from afar, he was don Matteo's son,
that Ruggiero, who studied as a lawyer, and this morning he was alone --
he took his father's place. Enzo stood up straight as usual, and looked
at the young man approaching. He had a relaxed pace, elegant, and the
way he was dressed also made him different from all the others. He was
more civilized.

The corporal reached the square, passed in front of Enzo, looking
straight in his eyes. But he walked past him without making a gesture,
without saying a word. A little disappointed, Enzo leaned back against
the three and thought that some other corporal would hire him. He
wondered why Ruggiero arrived so early -- normally the first to come
never got there before the bell stroke five o'clock. He probably wanted
to be the first one to choose, but not all the farmhands had arrived
yet, and more were still coming.

Those who had been chosen were slowly going towards the corner of the
Via di Mare, waiting for the corporal to finish his selection. Someone
passing in front of Enzo gave him a short nod, and the boy answered back
quietly with a nod.

The corporal ended the tour of the square, and on the his back, he
passed in front of Enzo again and said, "You."

That single syllable, uttered in a low voice, unexpected, gave a shudder
to the boy. He stood up straight again, and asked, also in a low voice,
pointing to his chest, "Me?"

The young man nodded in assent with just a short, plain nod, and set out
to leave the village towards the plantation. Enzo caught up with the
small group, while asking himself why Ruggiero chose him at last but not
when he first saw him. Perhaps he didn't found anyone better... But Enzo
knew he was a good farmhand. Perhaps the corporal didn't know that, he
told himself. And yet, on those days when Ruggiero accompanied his
father, he must have seen that each time Enzo was one of the farmhands
who were paid well, a sign that he did a good job. Well, the boy told
himself, he would have to do even better to attract the corporal's
attention.

The weather was becoming more torrid. Sweat was pouring down
continuously and at times a drop would made its way to an eye, making it
burn. From time to time, Enzo wiped the sweat off his forehead to avoid
that.

He was gathering the oranges speedily and precisely when the corporal,
in one of his unceasing strolls, arrived near him. "Is everything all
right?" he asked.

Enzo looked at him, somewhat astounded. "Yes, thank you," he answered.

"It's hotter than ever, isn't it?"

"It's the season," the boy answered, without slowing down his job.

"Are you thirsty?" the young man asked.

"Yes, but if I drink, I will sweat even more. I'll drink during the
break."

"Right," the corporal answered and went away, continuing to walk around,
flexing the scourge in his hands.

Enzo followed him with his eyes for a few seconds, and thought he would
have liked to see him on a horse -- he seemed like a born horseman. He
went back to his work, but thought that the young man had a beautiful
voice, virile, warm, and sensual. And those eyes would put you a little
ill at ease -- scrutinizing, ardent, proud, limpid, and penetrating. He
would become a valiant corporal. He talked to you gently, and meanwhile
he pierced you with his eyes -- a curious mix, worthy of a leader. Also,
that light gesture of flexing the scourge, gave one the impression of a
force that's been held back but ready to strike, a force that would have
been unwise to challenge. It is not that Enzo had any intention to
challenge it. Enzo's was like the reed -- if the wind blows, it will
bend, but it will come back straight up and strong like before as soon
as the wind calms, and therefore no wind, no matter how strong, could
break or tame it. Enzo's pride wasn't in unyielding in front of a
superior strength, but in being able to stand up like before soon after.

He had just filled another basket when the break signal sounded. He took
the basket to weigh it and then went to get his share of food. He found
a place in the shadow and sat down. He was quietly eating when he saw
the corporal arrive. Ruggiero gave him a nod and went to sit not far
from him. For a while, they both ate in silence. From time to time, Enzo
looked furtively at the corporal and wondered what the young man was
thinking. Did he regret having to leave the city to come back there? Was
he happy? Did he like being a corporal now?

Certainly, it was odd to see him always dressed in that way, so
impeccable, as if it was always Sunday.

"Are you tired?" suddenly the corporal asked him, looking at him with a
hint of a smile as the corners of his mouth bent just slightly upwards.

"Tired? No way, this is just the beginning of the week."

"But you work hard."

"The donkey also works hard -- he just gets used to it," Enzo answered
with a light smile.

"Do you feel like you are a donkey?" the young man asked in a joking
tone.

"It is a strong animal, even though it is not elegant like a horse."

"True."

"Do you ride?"

"Sure."

"It must be great, isn't it?"

"Great? I don't know, I have been riding horses ever since I can
remember, it is like walking."

"But walking is great -- just think about those who can't," Enzo noted
with an obvious tone.

Ruggiero smiled, "You are right, I never saw it in this way."

A man came to call the corporal, and Ruggiero stood up and went away.
Enzo looked at him and thought he was really elegant. And he noticed
with some amazement that the shoes of the young man shone in the sun
without even the slightest trace of dust. Enzo looked at Ruggiero as if
he had never seen him before, with a kind of silent amazement, and
wondered what was such a young man doing in this village that was
forgotten even by God. He saw him leaning against one of the gate
pillars, with a relaxed and indolent look, while he was talking with a
man who was addressing him with evident respect, turning his cloth cap
over in his hands. Ruggiero was nodding while listening carefully to the
man. Then he turned his head and looked towards Enzo, and the boy had
the impression that the glance was full of fondness and of warmth.

Upon hearing the sound signaling the end of the break, Enzo devoted
himself to his work with renewed energy. At the end of the day, he went
to the table for the daily pay. Ruggiero looked at the register book,
then counted the coins and pushed them towards the boy, looking at him
with a light smile. The boy took the coins, thanked and greeted him and
set off to go back home. The day had been good.

His father had already fixed the supper. They ate in silence. Then Enzo
left a coin on the table and went up to the roof, where there was a tub
of water, warmed by the sun. He took off all his clothes, shaking them
vigorously to get rid of all the dust, and when he was naked, he stared
to bathe. He heard the slamming of door and knew that his father was
going to the tavern. The light breeze coming from the sea made the bath
he was taking even more enjoyable, giving his skin a feeling of
freshness. It was like if delicate hands were caressing him intimately,
smoothing away the tiredness from the day's hard work.

He got dressed, and went downstairs to comb his wet hair, looking at
himself in the splinter of mirror he found a few months ago in the
garbage. He studied his face for a long time and he felt he looked
ungraceful and ridiculous -- his eyes were too big and clear, his dirty
blond hair was the color of oakum and slightly coarse, his nose was
quite small, his lips were pinkish, almost feminine, although they were
more fleshy. He tried to smile, but he even didn't like his own smile --
his mouth opened in a half moon and showed all his upper teeth that
didn't seem white enough to him. He had to get some sage leaves to brush
his teeth thoroughly. When he smiled his eyes became almost closed and
three small folds formed at the corners. He tried to smile in a
different way, but he was not able to find a smile he liked -- there
wasn't much he could do, he had an uninteresting face.

He saw that it was time to shave, but decided to do it the next morning
before going to work. He didn't feel like doing it now. He passed the
comb through his hair again, which, almost dry now, was naturally wavy
and seemed less oakum-like.

In his mother's village, many were blond. Here on the contrary, he was
one of the few. He would have liked to be the same as all his friends.
He didn't like being different. But there was nothing he could do. One
of his mates once said to him that the girls liked him very much for his
blond hair and clear eyes. But the news didn't give Enzo any pride. He
got his hair, eyes and nose from his mother, and his mouth and the shape
of his face from his father. At least, that's what his aunts told him.
And he felt like a weird mix. Like many boys his age, Enzo was not happy
with his look. He felt ungraceful, awkward, out of proportion, and the
compliments he received from time to time, expressed in words or
glances, were of no help. He didn't know that his secret worries were
shared by the majority of his mates, even those he admired the most.

He threw a last glance at the mirror splinter, put it in a corner of the
sink and went out. With a fast and springy pace, he went towards the
belvedere.

His hand in the pocket went through the hole and brushed his thigh. "I
have to get it mended!" he told himself for the umpteenth time. He could
ask one of his many aunts to fix them, but he didn't like the idea. He
had to take them off and remain naked, covering himself with just his
shirt, and he would be very embarrassed. If only he had another pair of
breeches... he told himself. Aunt Concettina promised to give him a new
pair, but still hadn't given them to him and he didn't feel like to
remind her. And it's not that she was squandering. She had five children
to take care of, even though her husband had a steady job at the
distillery. But an extra pair of breeches would have been so useful!
Sometimes, Enzo washed them in the evenings so they would be dry by
morning. The fabric was still good and strong, they would still last for
a long time.

There were already three of his mates at the belvedere, who welcomed him
with short greeting gestures.

Manuele was talking about Lucia, Giuseppe's cousin. "... I told you,
during the Mass, while she was coming back from the communion, she
glanced at me three times. If I could just talk to her..."

"Send her a message through Giuseppe."

"He doesn't want to, that bastard. He says that he is not a go-between."

"But you, weren't you hanging around Loredana?" Enzo asked, joining the
conversation.

"Loredana? No way! She just plays innocent and precious, and then... she
looks as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth."

"Why?" another asked, obviously interested.

"You've seen her, haven't you? It's enough she thinks nobody is looking
at her, and she stares at all the boys. And she always looks at the
place where she's not supposed to," Manuele said with a cunning smile.

"Where?" Alduzzo asked with a sly smile.

"Here!" Manuele answered, putting his hand between Alduzzo's legs, and
the boys quickly stepped back, laughing.

"Well, she is evidently a gourmet. She likes the almond-milk!" Alduzzo
said, cupping his genitals and shaking them.

"I would like to quench her thirst!" Rosario laughed.

"You ever got head?" Alduzzo asked him.

"And by whom? By you?" Manuele chimed in, laughing.

"Yes," Rosario answered, "but not by a male."

"And by whom?"

"When I was in Catania with my brother Tano, he took me to a certain
house. He chose a woman, and me another. He paid for both."

"But Tano is married!" Alduzzo said.

"And so what? In that house, it was for sure not the first time he went
there, all the women knew him."

"And how was it?" Manuele asked, curious.

"First she sucked my prick, she was really good at that, then she let me
fuck her. And she said that for my first time, I was not bad at all. And
also that mine is bigger than my brother's," the boy answered with
evident pride.

Enzo thought that the woman would have said the same thing to anybody,
and also thought that Rosario, who looked like an adult, was the most
naive among them. Enzo also thought that he wouldn't have liked doing
such things with a woman who would do it with anybody and for money.
Once he talked about prostitutes with his father, and his father warned
him -- those women, doing it with everybody, were not so clean and they
got diseases that they transmit from one person to the next. "And also,
they fake orgasms to make the client feel like a real man, so that he
will go back to see them. But those women, the only thing that makes
them enjoy, is a fat wallet. The prick could even be small and soft, if
just the wallet is big and hard!" his father said sneering.

"Enzo, did you ever fuck?" Alduzzo asked him.

"Way yes! Every night, with four sisters and their mother, on Handy
Street," the boy answered giggling. It was the first time he told his
companions that he did masturbate, but there were not many secrets among
them. It was simply the first time somebody asked him that question
explicitly.

His friends laughed. "It's a very busy street, that one!" Manuele said.

More boys arrived. Luigi pulled out a cigar, "Hey boys, look what I
stole from the headmaster at school! What do you think, we can smoke it,
now."

"A very good idea. Do you have matches?" another asked.

"No... Nobody has matches?"

"Matches? No."

"You will have to get them, since you got the cigar."

"I'll get them tomorrow, then," Luigi answered, slipping the cigar back
in the chest pocket of his shirt.

They chatted for a while, of this and that, but the subject soon changed
back, in a more or less explicit way, to sex. They were all of that age
when the sexual stimuli were powerful but the chance to give vent to
them, other than by themselves, was almost nonexistent. And also their
fantasies were unbridled. Enzo was sure that more than half of the tales
were made up.

Like what was being told now by Cesare "... then I hid under my
brother's double bed and waited. So, when my sister-in-law came in and
locked the door to change her clothes, I saw it... " Everybody was
listening carefully, trying to absorb his words.

"And how was it?" Alduzzo asked, his eyes wide open.

"How was it? Beautiful, hairy, hot..."

"Hot? How could you know it was hot? Was it steaming?" Martino asked
sarcastically.

Everybody burst in laughter. Enzo stopped listening. Those tales seemed
stupid and childish to him. And they couldn't even make them up
skillfully.

He was not interested. In fact, he knew that he would have preferred a
firm rod to a hairy slit. He knew it. Little by little, he understood it
and accepted it, even though he felt different from the other boys. But
he was different anyway, starting with the color of his hair. And he
knew that one day he would find someone who would allow him to savor his
tool, even though he didn't know when or where, or who. He would also
"take it in his ass" and enjoy it. Certainly not with one of his naive
and inexperienced companions, but a man like, for instance, his corporal
Ruggiero.

For the first time, he was thinking about a person in a sexual way. For
the first time, he was thinking about the young man in these terms, and
suddenly he became aroused. He slipped his hand into the pocket with the
hole, covering his hand over his naked member, afraid that his sudden
erection could be visible under the fabric of his breeches. But the
contact of his hand on the turgid and warm member only increased his
arousal. He wanted to be in his bed, to gently abandon himself in his
secrete rite, and dream about Ruggiero, who had been crowding his
thoughts since a few seconds ago.

"Hey, Enzo, where are you?" Alduzzo asked suddenly.

"What?" the boy asked, pulling himself back from his fantasies, and all
his mates laughed seeing his surprised expression.

"Come back amongst the Christians. Where did you get lost?"

"I was thinking about the job. Tomorrow morning I have to wake up
early."

"We all have to wake up early, besides Rosario, who is a spoiled boy,"
Manuele answered with an obvious attitude.

"And then, what's that? You think about the job now? It's good season,
there is work for everybody. Later, it will become hard," Alduzzo said,
putting his arm on his friend's shoulders.

"Did you know that the Baron bought don Rolando's farm?"

"He was after it for a while."

"They say that he paid good money for it."

"No matter how much he paid for it, the Baron will still benefit from it
-- now his two farms are joined together and he won't have to stroll
around in his carts."

"But, what about don Rolando?"

"They say that he will open a hotel in Aci Reale with the money. And
anyway, with his son who didn't want to work on the farm, is it not
better this way?"

"A hotel? I would like to be hired in a hotel!" Ranuccio said
thoughtfully.

"Well, you can go ask don Rolando, cant' you?" Rosario said.

"Who knows how many people will ask him," Ranuccio answered.

"And you should try all the same. I'm tempted to ask him myself too. If
I can just leave this village of starving people!" Manuele said.

Enzo had always desired to leave the village too, but now, the new
thought that had just occurred to him, made him change his mind -- now
he no longer wanted leave his village, he wanted to remain near don
Ruggiero.

After he went back home a little later, he lay on his bed and felt
tempted to masturbate, but his father wasn't back yet and Enzo knew his
father would come to his room. He didn't like the idea of having to stop
hastily in the middle of it when he heard the door noise. So he
preferred to wait.

But meanwhile, with his eyes closed, he was thinking about his corporal
and he daydreamed Ruggiero was now in bed, like that time when he spied
on his father. He then would open the door, go near his bed and ask to
be allowed to give him pleasure, and would beg Ruggiero to take him, to
enjoy him. And Ruggiero would say, "Yes, I was waiting for you" and
would welcome him to his bed...

His fantasies were interrupted by the noise of his father coming home.
As usual, Enzo pretended to be asleep. His father entered in his room,
went near the bed, gave him his blessing, went out, closing the door
behind his back. Enzo emitted a light sigh. He waited for a few minutes,
until he heard the faint creaking of his father's bed when the man got
on it.

Then Enzo made the sheet slip away from his body, lowered his breeches
to his ankles, raised his knees, and taking the already hard member with
his hand, he slowly started to masturbate, while with the fingers of his
other hand, wet with saliva, he started to tease his anus. But this
time, he fancied it was Ruggiero taking him. He shuddered, all his body
covered with a veil of sweat, and it was not for the heat of the night,
but for the intensity of the emotion he was feeling fantasizing that the
young man was making him his own.

He felt the excitement grow more than usual, increasing, growing,
pervading each part of his body, flow out unrestrainedly, and finally,
unable to hold back the low moans from the intensity of the pleasure, he
unloaded in a set of forceful jets on his contracted belly.

He had just the time to cover up and to turn on his side so that his
still erect member wouldn't be visible, when he heard his father came
in, wakened by his moans.

The man went near the bed and asked in a low voice, "What's up, Enzo?
Are you ill?"

The boy held back his breath while feeling his seed dripping from his
belly to the sheet. His father repeated his question again, and not
getting an answer, thought that his son was probably just dreaming and
went back to his room to sleep again.

Enzo relaxed. He brushed the old wet sheet with his hand, wondering if
the stain would be noticeable. He had had an incredibly strong orgasm,
and he asked himself how much stronger it could become if it was really
the young man taking him.

He tidied his breeches and finally relaxed completely, feeling a faint
sense of diffused pleasure. Then he told himself that being taken by
Ruggiero would remain just a fine daydream, and wisely told himself that
a man could go on and be free was in part thanks to his dreams. He
changed his position, searching for one that could make him fall asleep
easily, and wondered how the body of the young man he dreamed could be.
He would have done anything to be able to see his body completely naked,
even just once.

At last, he fell asleep serenely, indulging himself in his new and
pleasurable dreams.

The following morning, he woke up and saw that the crumpled and rough
fabric of the sheet didn't betray what happened. He went on the roof as
usual to wash himself, also taking with him the piece of mirror and his
father's razor blade -- he wanted to be well groomed, for his corporal.

After arriving at the square, he waited, with confidence. Again,
Ruggiero came before the bells chimed.

This time, Ruggiero passed in front of Enzo and said, "A good morning.
You coming?"

"Sure," the boy answered gratefully and happily.

It would be another wonderful day, Enzo thought while the chosen
farmhands were gathering near him. The group would soon leave with the
corporal, for that morning.

This time Enzo was walking almost at the corporal's side. He wanted to
look at him but he felt he couldn't do that in front of everybody.
Therefore, Enzo followed him, looking at his shining shoes that
resounded lightly on the pavement. In fact, different from all the
people who wore shoes there in the village, Ruggiero didn't put small
protecting irons on his shoes. Enzo noticed that he was wearing
different shoes from those he wore the day before, but he thought they
were always very beautiful and elegant. It's Ruggiero who was beautiful
and elegant, he corrected himself with a diffused sense of pleasure.

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

CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3

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

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

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

If you want to send me feedback, please e-mail at

andrejkoymasky@geocities.com

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