Date: Thu, 29 Jan 2009 16:09:18 -0800 (PST)
From: John Venn <johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Venetian Comfort Boy

Disclaimer:

This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between men and boys. If this
is not to your taste, or is illegal where you live, or you find it morally
offensive, then read no further and leave now!!

The story is purely imaginary and bears no resemblance to the actual sexual
proclivities of any living person or persons as far as I know, much as you
or I might wish. (Particularly the identifiable historical characters!)

Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk

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Other stories of mine may be seen under the Prolific Authors listing.
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Venetian Comfort Boy
by
Alexander

Chapter One


I was born the son of a fisherman and washerwoman on the island of Torcello
just outside Venice in the same year as Michelangelo was born in Florence -
not that I met him of course but I have seen some of his magnificent
paintings recently.

My father I never really knew as he was lost as sea in my sixth year and
I'd seen precious little of him before that. Life was hard for my mother
after he died although I didn't appreciate it at the time. The only thing I
knew was that we left our little home overlooking the sea and for the next
few years lived in a succession of hovels, each worse than the one
before. By the time I was ten years old, we were reduced to living in an
old wreck of a boat on the seashore. We weren't alone much of the time
however as I had a series of 'uncles' with whom my mother shared her bed,
either for company or the few coppers she could earn. And it wasn't just
her that they used: I quickly learned that some of the men preferred me to
her.  Whenever this happened, my mother would find some urgent business to
do elsewhere, only to return after I was curled up in a dark corner,
usually naked and crying. After putting the few coppers I'd been given away
in her purse, she would examine me carefully. Bruises and scrapes she
ignored. Scratches and cuts were wiped with seawater. If I was bleeding
from my back passage, she would complain bitterly - not entirely for me of
course, but because I was damaged and would be useless until I'd at least
partly healed. Not knowing any different, I accepted my role with as good a
grace as possible, grateful that I could at least contribute a little
towards the expenses. Looking back on it now from a distance of some years,
I can't entirely blame her for the way in which she allowed me to be
treated: she was desperate for the money to keep us alive, and to be
honest, the sort of trade I plied wasn't much out of the ordinary.

Not all the men treated me badly. Some of the regulars I even got to like,
usually the younger and gentler ones who stroked and caressed me for a
while before buggering me or pushing their prongs down my throat. Those who
used me harshly I soon learned to control - it's amazing the effect that
squeezing a man's eggs or biting his filthy penis has. By the time I was 12
years old there was no indignity I'd not suffered more than once, and there
were no times I was happier than when I was in the arms of a man who at
least pretended to have a care for me.

In the spring of that year my mother died, a victim of the plague that
visits our community all too frequently. For the first few days I grieved
badly for her, but more than that I grieved for myself. I was alone in the
world with no one to care for me: I managed to keep body and soul together
by selling myself to anyone who would pay, but without even the nominal
protection of my mother I soon ran into trouble. I had picked up a rough
looking sailor fresh from the sea who offered to pay well for my
services. Once inside my hovel, I almost choked on the smell of rank fish
and stale sweat. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to ignore it, managing
to swallow the bile that I brought up. What I couldn't ignore was the size
of the prick he wanted to fuck me with - it was the biggest and thickest
I'd ever seen - and I'd seen a good few, believe me. Even if he could force
it in me, it would tear me apart seriously, if not worse.  Without a second
thought I gave his eggs as vicious a squeeze and twist as I could, pulled
up my drawers and ran.

Blindly I ducked and dived anywhere I could to escape the clutches of a man
who would certainly kill me if he found me. I ran and ran until I couldn't
breathe; the pain in my side becoming intolerable and my legs threatening
to collapse under me.

Exhausted, I curled up under a bush and cried myself to sleep. I couldn't
have slept long though as the sun hadn't moved all that much when I opened
my bleary eyes. The first things I felt were hunger and thirst. Cautiously
I crept out of my lair and looked about me. Within a few minutes I managed
to find a stream and an orchard, which luckily were abundant in my
region. After having partaken of their offerings, I felt better, and took
stock of my situation.

I was homeless, owned nothing except what I stood up in, and all alone in
the world at just over twelve years old. I should have felt miserable and
depressed, but for some reason I was almost happy. Looking deeper into my
mind, I realised that at last I could escape from the hell that had been my
home for most of my life. My spirits rose as I almost smiled at the
thought.  Now was the chance for me to make my own way in the world. In my
naivety, I thought it was a golden opportunity to be grasped with both
hands.

Taking more cognizance of my surroundings, I realised that I was on the
road which led to Venice, as good a place as any to start my new life.

I'd been walking for hours, passed infrequently by heavily laden carts
carrying fish and wine from Torcello to the markets of Venice. My earlier
euphoria had evaporated long since and I was tired and dispirited. So much
for my new life - I couldn't even get a ride on a wagon.  Curling up under
a rock which retained some of the sun's heat, I put my head down and slept.

Dawn came all too soon and I woke cold, hungry and pissed off. The hunger I
took care of with a few juicy berries, thirst quenched from a little
stream. The sun would warm me up in due course.

I sat dejectedly by the roadside, elbows on my knees and chin cupped in my
hands. Three heavily laden carts passed me by, totally oblivious of my
presence. I stared miserably at the driver of fourth one lumbering by. Our
eyes met for an instant, and with a slight nod, the driver made space for
me alongside him.

We talked desultorily for a while but soon ran out of things to say - apart
from anything else he spoke very little Italian, coming from Greece as he
did.

I was dropped off in the market square at noon. It would be impossible to
describe my feelings - I'd never seen so many people in one place before,
or so many buildings either. And the colours! Bright reds and blues of
trousers and blouses, hosiery and cloaks - enough to blind you. Entranced I
wandered through the narrow streets gawping at the intensity of it all.

Dusk fell and I sat under a fountain chewing on a piece of stale bread I'd
picked up off the street. There were other urchins around, all ignoring me
completely apart from one who seemed to take particular interest in me. I
half smiled at him, hoping that it wasn't his aim to beat me to a
pulp. Slowly he wandered across and sat beside me.

"Who're you?" he said, not unkindly.

"Bartholomew," I told him. "But people call me Bart."

"What you doin' here?"

I told him, at length and in detail, pleased to have found a friend so
quickly and easily. When he asked where I was going to live and how I
planned to make a living, I couldn't answer him and shrugged my shoulders.

"What did you do before?" he enquired.

Not knowing any better, I let him know how I'd earned my keep for the past
two years. He seemed interested and looked at me more closely.

" A boy like you can earn a good living here," he said, "But you'll have to
clean up and get some more clothes - you are rather ripe. And you'll have
to be careful."

It was welcome news that I could still make a living by selling myself even
in a city as rich as Venice. At least I wouldn't starve and it would do
until I could find something better.

"Come on," he said, taking me by the arm. "We'd better go. The Palace
Guards will be around soon."

Apparently it was their job to police the streets at night, and any
ragamuffins such as us would be given a good thrashing if we were
caught. After being fucked more often than not.

Giacomo, for that was his name, led me through a warren of tiny streets
until we came to the edge of the Grand Canal. Suddenly he pushed me over a
wall and quickly joined me.

Home to him was a rough shack, not much bigger than a dog kennel. It was
tidy though and didn't smell too badly of the shit and decay Venice seemed
full of. He lit a stub of candle and hung a sack over the tiny door.

It was cramped in the shack with the two of us in it, and we found it hard
to get comfortable without touching each other. I didn't mind though, I
liked him. I liked him even more when he shared his meagre supper of bread
and cheese with me.

Afterwards we talked, sat cross-legged facing each other. He told me that
he earned enough to live on by fetching and carrying down at the harbour,
and had hopes of getting a proper job of work when he was a bit older. He'd
tried to earn a few scudi by prostituting himself once upon a time, but
knew he wasn't good looking enough to get many customers and in any case he
didn't like it very much. He knew a lot of boys who did though, and would
point them out to me tomorrow if I wanted. I agreed, thinking that it would
be a start at least, after all, I had no other skill to offer, had I?

"Let's have a look at you then," he said. "Take your things off."

If he was to help me, I supposed that he would need to know what I was like
under my clothes, and so willingly striped off, even removing my tattered
drawers.

He examined me closely, even feeling the muscles in my arms (there weren't
any!). Satisfied, he ran his fingers down my chest and sat back.

"You're very good looking. Some might even say handsome," he
whispered. "You should do OK."

I'd never been told I was good-looking before, and in fact had never given
it a thought.  Hearing it now made me feel happy and I smiled at him,
glowing with pride.

He smiled back at me, and looked away, seemingly embarrassed. My years of
experience also told me he had an erection which I ignored politely.

"Wanna see me?" he asked quietly.

There was an almost pleading edge to his voice which despite his attempt to
disguise it was unmistakable. It was only fair, I decided, after all he had
been good to me so far and if he wanted to show himself to me, then why
should I object?

He was a bit darker skinned than me, betraying a Mediterranean streak in
him somewhere.  His body was muscular and taught, due no doubt to his
work. I hardly noticed all the old cuts and scars on him, nor even the
bites from the insects that lived in his rough clothing. His dick was
impressive. Not big you understand, even when hard as it was now, but good
looking. A good match for his body, surmounted as it was by an impressive
tuft of newly-grown pubic hair.

I stared at him, completely unaware that I was licking my lips and the
thing between my legs was beginning to stand up.

"You can touch me if you want," he almost begged.

His arms felt solid, his chest hard, his face smooth and hairless. I let my
fingers drop as far as his navel before I stopped and drew them back.

"Go further, please," he whispered, all attempts to disguise his lust
evaporating.

Willingly, I did so. I'd never been with anyone as young as him before,
neither had I been so aroused either. This was a completely new feeling for
me and I was just as keen as him to explore further. Never before had I
been given the choice, and never before had I wanted it so much.

Taking his prick in one hand and his eggs in the other, I felt them
carefully and delicately.  Using the skills learned through regular and
frequent practice, I gave him as sensuous and erotic a massage as I could,
enjoying myself as much as he was judging by the moans of pleasure I was
hearing. Sensing he would spurt soon if I didn't stop, once again I drew
back.

I think he was grateful that he hadn't gone all the way as it seemed he
wanted more than just a feel and a hand job.

"Do you want to, you know, ..." he stammered out, embarrassed at his
unspoken request.

"Yes, if you want," I replied quietly, and actually hoped he meant it.

"Do you want to do it to me, or me do it to you?"

I'd never done it to anyone before and oddly enough was a bit scared of not
being able to do it properly.

"You do me," I said.

Laying diagonally across the floor on my stomach as I'd done so often
before, I rested my forehead on my arms and waited expectantly.

I gasped as I felt cold, slippery olive oil being rubbed gently first
around, and then inside, my fundament. Then the gentle pressure of his
crown on it. Reflexively I opened up to admit him, easily, and for the
first time in my life, voluntarily. I smiled inwardly as I accustomed
myself to the familiar feeling, surprised to find that I'd missed it. He
wasn't anywhere near as large as most of the men that had abused me in the
past and as a result there wasn't the slightest bit of pain as he buried
himself as deep as he could. It felt good, very good.

Slowly he began to fuck me, pulling back until his cock-head was just
inside my ring, then easing down until I could feel his eggs bouncing
against me. He managed to keep up a slow, steady rythym, deriving great
pleasure from it himself, and making me feel wondrously ecstatic. 'I hope
this will go on for ever' I thought to myself as I closed my eyes and let
the tide of bliss flow through me.

It didn't of course. Even he lost control eventually and I felt his tool
stiffen and thicken just that little bit more as with a last, desperate
plunge he deposited his load of hot juices inside me. I sighed, sadly,
knowing it was over.

Giacomo collapse on my back, gasping for air. Softly he kissed me on my
neck and whispered, "That was the best ever! Thanks."

I'd heard this a hundred times before, but this time I think it was truly
meant, after all he'd been used and abused himself just as I had.

"It was for me too," I whispered back. "Really the best." That was also
truly meant.

We slept close together that night, embracing and without a care in the
world.  Chapter Two

We were up and around early the next morning. I wouldn't have objected to
another arse-fuck before we went out, but it was out of the question
unfortunately. If we were to earn enough money to eat, we had to get to the
docks before anyone else could grab any work going.  Luckily we were among
the first of the boys to arrive on the quayside, and as well as earning
some good money fetching and carrying, we also managed to pilfer some good
cheese and soft bread for ourselves along the way.

By mid-day we were sat dangling our legs in the grey water of the Grand
Basin when Giacomo said that he thought I should stay with him for a few
days 'at least until you've found your feet'. The fact that this was just
as much for his benefit as mine didn't escape me, but I was happy to go
along with it as my dick confirmed. Counting up our money, Giacomo said
that we had just enough to have ourselves a good hot wash in one of the
bath houses scattered throughout the port before going back to our home.

"You might be good looking, and a fantastic fuck," he laughed, "but you
still smell like a sewer rat!"

I wasn't at all angry with him for saying this as it was almost certainly
true, and in any case I admired his honesty and frankness.

The baths were a novel experience, having never visited one before. They
were fairly quiet in the middle of the afternoon and we were ones of
perhaps twenty males in the enormous pool.  Nobody was naked of course -
they all bathed in their loose drawers slightly to my disappointment. It
wasn't a complete waste of time though as some of them were made of such
fine cloth that they became almost invisible when they were wet. This
didn't seem to bother the wearers too much on the whole, some of them even
deriving pleasure from it. The pleasure was also shared by others too as
the pole in their groin displayed..

'Como and I were sat on the edge of the bath talking quietly when he told
me he had to go away for a while, but would return in less than half an
hour. I was quite happy to stay where I was until then.

Looking round the bath, I realised that I was the youngest one there, by at
least four years. I was also aware of being the object of some attention,
and the looks told me exactly what sort of attention! Glancing round, I
idly wondered which men were thinking they'd like to bed me, and which ones
I'd like to go with. One or two, realising that they had no chance of
getting their way with me were taking care of themselves discretely under
the water.. I obliged them by absent-mindedly fondling myself over my
drawers.

One ancient old sage even had the nerve to stand up in front of me, staring
at where my privates were hidden, his lust open and unashamed. I could have
coped with this easily but when he dropped the front of his drawers and
showed me his tired, wrinkled manhood, I laughed openly at him and made to
kick him where it hurts most. At least he had the grace to blush and
splutter an apology before he splashed away. Not for the first time I
reminded myself where men's brains went when they were aroused.

'Como returned soon after this with a bundle under his arm and a grin on
his face. "Come on, " he said, " Got something for you."

Following curiously, I went into the disrobing room and we secreted
ourselves in a corner.  Proudly he unfolded the parcel and showed me his
prize. There was a nice blouse and a pair of decent pants to go with
it. Not new, but well made and clean. There were even a pair of small
drawers to complete the set. In response to my questioning look, he simply
told me that people should take more care where they hung their washing!

Thus began my introduction to Venetian life. I quickly learned that the
richest people, the merchants, churchmen and dukes were very rich indeed
and lived in vast palaces and houses, attended to by an army of
servants. The poorest were just as badly off as I had been back in Torcello
- worse in some ways as they were frequently attacked and beaten up, either
by the Palace Guard, the night police or young aristocrats just for the fun
of it.

My attention was soon drawn to the wealthy young-men-about-town, the sons
of important dukes and so on, clothed in the finest materials money could
buy. They were almost always accompanied by young boys who carried, among
other things, their swords and daggers.  Strictly speaking it is against
the law to carry these in public places, the penalties being harsh if you
were caught by the Ducal Police and they took a dislike to you. The law was
partly adhered to in that the page boys were too young to be charged with
anything and in any case untrained in the use of them. Most young men were
rarely challenged, it being common knowledge that any guard idiot enough to
try and arrest them would be lucky to escape with his life - you never knew
who his father was!

I learned something else too from 'Como. The aristocrats and churchmen of
Venice were into male love in a big way - pederasty for the most
part. Sodomy was a hanging and burning offence technically, but it was
rarely carried out as getting the proof was next to impossible.  Not only
that, but should the accused be found not guilty, the hapless accuser would
burn in his place for having the temerity to bring a false charge. Thus
were the foibles of the rich preserved.

There were very few of the gentry who didn't have their pages: even the
high-ranking churchmen had them too. They were considered more or less a
fashion item, one's place in society heightened by a particularly
attractive one. The fact that most of the boys were also bed-companions of
their masters was common knowledge, the illicit use of a beautiful young
boy's body was an added bonus. These so-called 'comfort boys' were
sometimes lent out to confirm friendships, or secure a good piece of
business. Consequently, good comfort boys were highly prized and sought
after. I made my mind up to join their number just as soon as I could.

'Como and I shared our lives for several weeks, enjoying the company and
pleasure we took with each other. Night-times though became less satisfying
for me as time went on. Mostly he would be content with a mutual rubbing
together or at most allow me to take him in my mouth. I could count on the
fingers of one hand the number of times I persuaded him to take me up the
back - something I missed greatly.

It was with some desperation then that I began to explore on my own, partly
to satisfy my needs and partly to earn money.

Satisfying my needs was the easiest part. There were enough boys around
willing to take part in a little fucking or rubbing, but all too often all
I got afterwards was a beating for my pains.  I had more luck when I
discovered a little cafÚ in the appropriately-named Arsenale part of
the city where the shipyards were. Once I'd made my presence known, I would
soon be picked up and for a few soldi, give a man ten minutes of
pleasure. On the whole I wasn't treated too badly by my customers as for
once, anyone I didn't like the look of I could ignore.

The proprietor of the cafÚ soon knew what my game was and seemed to
welcome it as it brought him extra trade. After a while he even offered to
let me use the stables at the back of the shop for my business, in return
for a commission of course. Within a couple of weeks I had built up a nice
clientele, being able choosing to accept offers from men I knew and liked.
One in particular pleased me immensely. Bastiano seemed to be about 20
years old, of handsome appearance and almost effeminate in nature. When he
loved me, he was gently and caring, and even apologetic when he thought
he'd hurt me. He paid well too.

It was during one of our post-lovemaking conversations I learned something
that would change my life for ever.

In a piazza close by St Maria's church was a high-class cafÚ,
patronised by the young aristo's.  It was from here that they often
acquired their comfort boys, some hired by the day, others for longer. It
was in effect a bordello or bawdy house Bastiano laughed as he told me,
although nothing improper actually took place on the premises. What sort
business went on there was common knowledge of course, but as usual the
aristo's made sure they were left alone.

Bastiano gladly arranged an introduction to the owner of the place, and it
was with a mixture of fear and excitement that I presented myself there at
noon a day or two later.

He was an enormous fat man, expensively dressed, and with a cheerful
face. Looking me up and down critically, he stroked his chin thoughtfully
before saying, "Come with me."

I was taken up the stairs into a room such as I had never seen before. It
was covered entirely by richly embroidered carpets and tapestries, not one
piece of wall or floor was left visible.  The furniture was heavily ornate
and just as sumptuously upholstered. It was beautiful and I gazed round in
awe. Federico laughed lightly at my open-mouthed astonishment and turned me
to face him. I was questioned closely about my background, whether or not I
had any family, where I lived now and how I earned my crust. When I told
him that I consorted with men on a daily basis, he looked grim for an
instant and told me in no uncertain terms that I must never again admit to
such an occupation, even under the most severe torture.

"If you do," he said, "It will mean certain death for you, and any man you
have been with."

I hd heard what 'Como told me before, but didn't really take much notice of
him. It had never occurred to me that the things I now did for pleasure as
much as business were so illegal as to be punishable by burning or
hanging. Federico brought it home to me and hurriedly I agreed, blushing
from head to toe at my stupidity.

With everything else, he seemed quite pleased and it was a relief when he
asked me to strip down to my skin. I was prepared for this and had taken
care to have a good bath that day and cover myself with some good olive oil
to give my skin what I hoped was an attractive lustrous sheen. Bastiano had
given me some sweet-smelling pomade which I'd powdered liberally around my
private parts and in my hair.

Federico eyed me closely, turning me round and round, examining me in
minute detail, muttering to himself quietly. He even felt around my eggs
and prick (which naturally stood to attention instantly) and pushed a
finger inside my arse.

"You're uncut," he said. "Most unusual. And a decided asset as you may find
out."

Once the inspection was over, he sat back and thought for a second before
asking, "How old are you again?"

"Thirteen," I lied as it wasn't my birth day for another four months yet.

I think he knew I'd lied, but he said nothing. "Do you like what you do?"
he asked after a few more minutes.

"Yes," I answered truthfully this time.

"Do you know what my boys do?" he went on.

"Page Boys," I said, choosing my words carefully.

He grinned at this, and invited me to sit in front of him, still as naked
as the day I was born.

"That, and a great deal more," he told me. "We hire boys out to artists or
sculptors who are in need of models, we send boys to wait on table at
banquets, and we hire boys out as guides to the city, and many other things
as well. Could you do all those things?"

"With a little help to begin with," I said.

"Good. You can start now," he told me.

I could have hugged him, but instead managed to restrain myself and thanked
him profusely.

"Right. Here's what we do. First we get you cleaned up properly. And take
those off."

Here he pointed down at my groin with his finger.

My hands clapped to my crotch instantly, protecting it from the attack I
was certain was to follow. They very last thing I wanted was to join the
castratae in the cathedral choir!

"No," he laughed heartily at my panic, "These!"

Pushing my hands aside, he tugged at the few hairs forming the beginning of
my bush.

"With these off, and a careful diet, you can pass for eleven. You'll get a
lot more business, believe me."  Relieved beyond measure that I wasn't
about to lose my eggs, I didn't complain in the slightest at losing a few
hairs, no matter how proud I was of them.

He left the room by a door I hadn't noticed before as it was hidden behind
a tapestry. He soon returned though accompanied by two handsome boys a year
or two younger than me. With a startled glance, I realised they were twins,
identical twins.

"Get him cleaned up will you, and some decent clothes," Federico told them,
ruffling their heads as he did so. "And find him a bed too."

Wordlessly, the lads took hold of an arm each and led me through the secret
door.

"I'm Tom," my left arm said. "And I'm Dom," the other added, giggling at my
confusion.

I was taken on a quick tour of my new home, which whilst not at all big,
was well furnished and very comfortable. From what I could see, it appeared
to cater for perhaps a dozen boys, it was big enough anyway.

The last place we came to was the bath room. The wooden tub was at least
two arm spans square and half a span deep. Painted a sky blue colour, it
sparkled and gleamed in the afternoon sun. Four hands quickly undressed me,
each one taking a surreptitious grope as I was stripped. I'd been in the
house for two hours, and had spent three-quarters of it naked already! I
clambered into the warm water and was joined by Tom and Dom, equally naked.
Even now they were impossible to tell apart: perfect replicas of each
other..

"How do I tell who is who?" I asked, looking first at one and then the
other.

"You can't," they said in unison. "No one can. But you needn't try anyway,
we are always together. And do things together as well!" they
giggled. "There is one way," they whispered, looking round the room to make
sure no one could overhear. "We'll leave you to find that out for yourself
later!"

Even their sentenced were shared I noticed.

Then they set to cleaning me up. First came the fine pumice, removing every
last trace of the oil and pomade so carefully applied that morning. My
pubic hairs were cut one by one, leaving me looking just as I'd been all my
life. After they'd finished, my skin was a glowing pink, and not a little
tender. Then came the soft, perfumed soap. The four hands ran all over me,
taking the chance once again to derive their own pleasure in the
exercise. Needless to say, we were all upstanding when they'd finished and
I was in such a state of excitement that I could have taken a donkey if one
had been handy!

Desperate for some relief, I looked at Tom and Dom, pleadingly. At a secret
signal which passed between them, they stood me up. One of them knelt down
in front of me and tickled my groin. The other, standing by his side,
stroked my back gently. This had only gone on for a minute or so before
they changed places with a smoothness and efficiency obviously born of long
practice.

The glow I'd felt after the pumice scouring was now replaced with one of
sexual excitement.  This was increased a thousand-fold when I felt a finger
slide inside me and a small mouth engulf my prick. I'd only just got use to
them when once again there was a seamless changeover and I was back in
heaven. Then the probing finger found my magic spot and I bucked forwards,
burying my prick down a throat before losing my seed in it..

Guiding my limp body to the edge of the tub, Tom and Dom smiled at me
wickedly.  Apparently the show wasn't over yet.

Holding hands the twins stood in the middle of the water and kissed each
other passionately, their beautiful little cocks bouncing together as if
enjoying their own party. Tom, or Dom, slipped around the back of his
brother and effortlessly slid his prick up his chute. Slowly he buggered
him, eyes closed and mouth agape. There was no changeover this time though,
He continued at the same steady pace until shooting out his juices. Then
they changed places for the encore!

The final curtain came down when, with amazement, I realised that I'd
rubbed myself to orgasm without even knowing it! Two comes in half an hour
- another first.

Chapter Three The rest of the day went by in a blur. There were meals to be
prepared (which we did ourselves), rooms to tidy up and clothes to be put
away. There was a lot of coming and going among the boys too, some coming
back from a day's work, others going out to start. Tom and Dom put me in
the care of a 12-year old boy called Aldo, with whom I was to share a room.

He was a tall, rangy boy who spoke very little, making himself understood
by gestures or smiles mostly. His outstanding feature was his
face. Classically formed, he had a retrousse nose, brown eyes and an unruly
mop of brown curly hair.

Naturally, being the new boy, I was the centre of attention all evening. I
answered their questions honestly and openly, anxious to be accepted by
them. In their turn, they tried to answer mine, although being unknowing as
to all the things they did, and being frightened to ask, they weren't too
many.

I was pleased to see Federico late in the evening, mainly to thank him
again and also tell him that I was being treated well. He listened to the
reports the boys made of their day's work, taking particular note when one
of them complained that the man who hired him for the day had buggered him
harshly and painfully. In response, Federico told the boy to stay at home
tomorrow and asked Michelangelo if he would go in his place. Michelangelo,
I learned, was the sort of leader of the group. Whenever clients played up,
or damaged the boys in any way, it was he who was sent to sort it
out. Whatever he did or said, no one knew, but the boy who had been hurt
received a gift by way of apology or we never saw the man again.

When we were undressing for bed soon after Federico had said goodnight,
Aldo and I tried to get secretive looks at each other's tackle as all boys
do. Catching one another out, we both smiled together and realised how
silly we were being; after all we were now room-mates. To solve the
problem, we finished undressing and took a good look at each other. Aldo,
as I said, had a superb head and face. His body, on the thin side though it
was, had well-defined muscles and a broad chest. What was most impressive
though, was his tackle. His pole was half as long again as mine, but no
thicker, giving it the appearance of a thick drawing crayon.  This hung
over a pair of eggs which would have looked good on a bull! Somewhat
nervously, he gave them a tug or two for my benefit and put his night-shirt
on.

Feeling a little under-endowed, I did likewise.

We lay on our backs in the shared bed, staring at the ceiling and trying
not to touch each other too much.

"So, what have you been doing all day?" I asked quietly.

"Posing," he replied flatly.

"Posing for what?" I queried, not understanding.

He turned on his side, rested his head on a crooked arm and told me.

"For a sculptor. He's doing a statue of Apollo and wants to use my
head. It's taking for ever.  I've been there four days already and he
hasn't nearly finished. He's got my head in a funny position and it gets
painful after a bit, but he won't let me move."

"What, not even for a piss or anything?"

"Not unless I'm really desperate and then he gets angry as if I had no
right to be making water like that. Money's good though and he wants to use
my prick and eggs later too."

Fascinated, I begged him to carry on talking. "Doesn't he, you know, do
things with you?"

I'd assumed that all painters, sculptors and so on were men or boy lovers
and they spent as much time in bed as working on their art.

"Not this one," Aldo sighed. "I wish he would. All he does is stare at me
for ages, then hurry back to the statue and hack away at it for a few
minutes. I tried it once and let him see my prick, but all he did was to
throw his hammer and scream at me at me for distracting him!"

I sympathised with him, having a good idea how he felt.

"My eggs are aching and I've not had a fuck for a week!" he moaned and
looked at me sadly.

"Well, we could do it now, if you wanted," I whispered.

His eyes lit up for a moment, but then faded. "We aren't supposed to mess
about together in the house. It might spoil things for the following day or
something and Federico gets really pissed off."

I chose not to tell him about Tom, Dom and me. More to the point, I was
pissed off myself because it appeared that I wasn't going to get anything
either and because Aldo needed some relief. It seemed unfair that two
highly frustrated boys were sharing the same bed but were unable to do
anything about it. Not for the first time, my brain shifted from one head
to the other.

"Nobody would know," I whispered. "After all you're not getting any, and I
don't think I will either for a few days."

He thought for a second or two before he said, "OK then, but we've got to
be very quiet and not let on to the others."

Even in the darkness, I saw his eyes sparkle and a wide grin spread across
his face.

Our night shirts were dropped to the floor and we embraced, almost chastely
to begin with, until that is, I felt his manhood rise between us, first
rubbing against my groin then sliding wetly against my skin as it hardened
until it was pressed urgently into my navel. Curiously, I lifted up the
bedcovers and stared at it, marvelling at the size. Not gigantic by any
means, but already as big as most men's. It is going to be huge when he is
fully grown I thought to myself - I'm glad I won't be around to take that!

Dropping the covers back, I nervously moved in to kiss him, not knowing
whether he would or not. The instant our lips touched, he changed from the
quiet, reserved Aldo I'd seen so far to a Satyr. His tongue probed me
deeply and harshly, his body now squeezed tightly against mine, writhing
and squirming passionately, releasing all his pent-up frustrations.

"Top or bottom?" he managed to gasp out.

"Bottom if you don't mind," I whispered, guessing that's what he preferred
anyway.

Aldo liked to do it the way animals do. I liked it this way too, especially
when my fucker has a big penis. Turning over, I knelt on all fours and
opened my legs. I felt his crown squeeze past my ring and pause for a
second whilst he moved up closer, nestling himself between my
thighs. Putting his hands on my waist, he eased forward. It seemed to be
never-ending and I felt every last bit of it, gasping when he rubbed
against my magic spot. It was magnificent, and fulfilling in every possible
way!

The stimulation I got as he slid in and out was ecstatic and I had to stuff
my mouth with the bedcover to deaden my moans. Aldo too was groaning,
growling almost, from deep in his belly. Once he'd got a steady, quick
rythym established, I was delighted when I felt a hand on my prick,
stroking it in perfect harmony with his buggering. Heavenly!

He must've been good at his job because it wasn't until he made sure that
I'd ejected my load that he finished off himself with a well-satisfied
moan.

"You're good," he whispered to me once we'd put our night-shirts back on,
"Very good.  You'll do well here."

Well sated, we turned our backs on each other and slept soundly, the last
words I heard being, "Your turn tomorrow!"

The following day I was shown around the city by Bruno, the boy who'd been
painfully buggered yesterday. It was a very different place to that which
'Como and I knew. It was richer, cleaner and full of expensive houses and
big churches full of people strolling about or just sat talking. Bruno
explained that the churches were used just as much as meeting places as
anything else, they being ideal for quiet, uninterrupted conversations. As
we were walking around, Bruno nodded politely or gave a small hand signal
to several men who seemed to know him, but not once did he stop to speak to
anyone.

"If you ever see anyone you know, never approach them," he told me. I
understood why of course.

We were passing through the Piazza della Signoria when I stoped,
dumbstruck.. Across the square was an enormous statute of a naked man
looking over his shoulder. He was beautiful.

"David," Bruno told me. "It's a copy of a statue by someone called
Michelangelo."

We went up closer and stared. I'd never seen anything like it. How anyone
can turn a lump of shapeless stone into something as good as this was
beyond me. The only thing wrong with it, I thought, was that his prick
seemed to be a little too small for such a man. Bruno explained that this
was done deliberately sometimes so as not to distract people's eyes away
from the whole thing, and also to satisfy the 'authorities' - a proper size
member being thought obscene.

I nodded in understanding. Next he took me to a small church, almost hidden
behind the vast St. Mark's. On the walls , either side of the altar, were
two huge paintings, one of a man slaying a dragon and the other of a man
fighting a lion. Somehow the faces seemed familiar and I looked round at
Bruno. He was the lion fighter and Aldo was the dragon killer!

Bruno laughed at my surprise. "If you want to see more, look in any of the
churches round here. They like their pictures of us boys!"

"You don't see the best ones though, not in the churches." he went on as we
left the church.  "You'd be surprised at how many cardinals and dukes have
pictures that would make you spurt your seed on the spot if you saw
them. Oh, they like their church paintings as nude as they can get away
with, but the copies they have in their private collections, well, .....!"
He waved his arms about, leaving it to my imagination what he meant. My
member began to harden as I pictured them.

"If you get the chance, try to pose for Bastiani or Georginio. They like a
good fuck, and pay well into the bargain."

I spent the next two weeks learning the simpler arts of my trade such as
how to serve at table, how to dress properly, and more importantly, how to
read the signs that a man would give if he wanted some 'extra service'.
Chapter Four

Within a few weeks, I had been out with several men, acting as their escort
or page and enjoyed it very much. The sex the men had with me was far
gentler than the sailors I was used to and we both enjoyed it - whatever it
was!

The first big outing I had was to serve table at a private dinner party
held in one of the ducal palaces. The Duke de Shaviarino wanted us to dress
as Romans in togas and such like. Six of us were engaged to wait at table
and take care of his guests, and the twins were to perform a new dance for
them, and then take care of the Duke.

Serving the actual food was done by properly trained servants, all we had
to do was pour the wine, and wait to see which guest wanted our
companionship afterwards. The technique was simple enough. As we worked our
way round the table, the guests would subtly slip their hands between our
legs and have a gentle feel of our goods. Being a Roman night, we wore
short tunics, belted at the waist and stopping just above our knees. Our
not wearing anything underneath was an added bonus for the guests!

It was when the last course was being served that the men who hadn't
brought their own boy could choose one of us to be theirs for the remainder
of the night. If a guest wanted a particular boy who he found attractive,
he would drop some simple token on the serving tray as the wine was
poured. It might be a feather or a kerchief or some such. The boy kept this
in sight as it told the other guests that he was 'booked' for the night.

Not unnaturally, the boys had their favourite men, and tried many underhand
tricks to make sure that he chose them: the consequences of being found
doing this though were very serious for the boy.

I must've been lucky that night because I was chosen by an attractive fair
haired man of about 30 who seemed very comely to me. Neither was he drunk,
which many of the others seemed to be.

When the feast was over, the huge tables were dismantled and taken away,
the floor then being covered with lots of brightly coloured cushions and
pillows. These were lazed on by the guests, with their page boy knelt or
stood nearby in the way the Romans did I guess. Care was taken to leave a
clear square in the middle of the room for Tom and Dom (who were to be
called Romulus and Remus for the night for some reason) to give their
performance.

>From somewhere behind me, the slow, steady beat of a drum started and the
room fell quiet.  Just as people began to wonder what was happening, Tom
and Dom (TomDom as I now thought of them as they were inseparable)
appeared, one from each top corner of the room.  They were dressed in togas
very similar to mine, but much shorter, only just covering groins.  Their
hair was tied back with gaily coloured ribbons and their eyes highlighted
with kohl.  They reminded me vividly of the cherubs I'd seen so recently in
the paintings on the roof of St Marks.

The boys started off by dancing lightly around the room, twisting and
turning with delightful grace, showing the guests their skills. Meeting in
the middle, they faced each other, clasped their hands behind their backs,
leaned forwards and kissed lightly, the room gasping in awe at the
incredibly erotic scene being revealed before them. Speeding up their
dance, they hopped and skipped as if on air, turning somersaults and doing
handstands which defied gravity. As the music slowed down, the atmosphere
changed. TomDom teased the audience by approaching them as if promising a
kiss, but dancing away at the last second. Then their approach changed -
instead of searching for a kiss, they invited each guest to pull the rope
tied around their waists, thus releasing their tiny togas - but once again
spinning away before the could be unwrapped.

This pleasure was reserved for their host, much to the disappointment of
the audience.  Stepping gracefully and in perfect unison, they presented
themselves to the Duke and bowed before him. Licking his lips, he took a
rope in each hand and tugged. The togas fell open, revealing their fronts
to his eyes only, which opened wide in astonishment and unadulterated lust

Sweating profusely, the Duke stroked their groins a few times before the
cherubs threw off their togas and span round, hand clasped above their
heads and legs apart.

There was an audible gasp from everyone in the room and an almost tangible
change in the atmosphere. The boys were wearing nothing but the tiniest,
briefest and skimpiest triangles of blue cloth, held up only by thin
ribbons. Their dicks, brought to full erection by the Duke, were clearly
defined, stretching the cloth to its limit.

The beat of the drum quickened and the boys followed its insistent beat
frantically. Suddenly and without warning they tore each other's triangles
off and the drum beat stopped, the echo dying away slowly in the big
room. For a few amazing seconds Tom and Dom stood in the centre, breathless
from their dance and completely naked, their beautiful erections bobbing up
and down as their chests heaved. They gave the audience just enough time to
absorb their beauty before they resumed their dance, much more slowly this
time and accompanied by erotic touches and fondling.

I felt my master's hand search for my groin and I willingly opened my legs
enough for him to slide his hand under my toga. He also took my own hand
and pushed it through a hidden slit in his pants so I could play with his
solid member, already wet with juices.. Stealing a glance round the room,
without exception every hand was busy, every groin occupied.. Even those
poor guests without partners were stimulating themselves without any shame
at all.  Returning my attentions to Tom and Dom, I watched in awe at what
they were doing. They had grasped each other's wrists firmly and slowly Tom
(or whichever it was) leaned back, bending at the knees as he did so. Dom
stepped up and put his feet on Tom's knees, leaning back to keep his
balance - it was amazing to see. Gradually Tom leaned forward and finding
Dom's prick in front of him, gave it a good, solid lick. Theatrically, Dom
closed his eyes, moaned and then skipped away wagging a 'no-no' finger at
his twin, but the heart-stopping grin gave the lie to it.

Everyone thought the show has ended after they repeated this drama once
more and Tom (or Dom!) bent down to pick up his discarded toga, but he had
a surprise waiting for him.  Without hesitation, his brother grabbed him
from behind by the hips and aimed his prick at the hole in front of him. He
looked round at the startled guests seeking their approval and as they
started to cheer him on, he very slowly inserted his prick into the waiting
hole, every eye in the house watching it disappear, the cheers dying away
to a perfect, unbelieving silence.

After two or three thrusts and grinning broadly, he pulled it out, and
taking his brother by the hand, they bowed deeply to the audience before
vanishing from sight behind the scenes.

There was a full minutes' stunned silence before anyone spoke, then the
place erupted, everyone commenting on the 'beauty and grace' of the Roman
Dance and how they had 'captured the spirit' of the age. Not a word of the
exquisite erotica they'd just seen, or the beauty of the two boys. And that
is despite the overpowering smell of spent male juices and still visible
erections.

"What are their names?" my partner asked as he carefully used the hem of my
toga to clean our pricks.

"Tom and Dom," I told him. I didn't know his name yet, and he hadn't
bothered to ask for mine.

"I'm Bartolomeo," I smiled at him. "Called Bart by my friends."

"Oh, sorry!" he replied. "That was very rude of me. My name is Lorenzo."

The room had emptied almost completely by now. Our host had been the first
to go, no doubt to thank the twins for their show in an appropriate way
they would all enjoy.

All the others had quickly followed, some alone to be satisfied by their
own hands, some with their chosen boy and others in groups no doubt to
continue the party more discretely elsewhere.  Lorenzo and I were the last
people to stand and I wasn't at all sure of the protocol as to what I
should do. He'd given me no hint as to whether I was to go with him,
whether I was to stay here, or make my way back to Federico's.

"Come," he said as he wrapped his cloak around his shoulders, "I will see
you home."

Bitterly disappointed that my first job of work had ended so abruptly and
without satisfaction, I let a tear or two drop down my cheeks as I wondered
where I'd gone wrong.

Lorenzo lifted my head up and saw my tears.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly. "I am not staying at home tonight,
and my, err, patron, wouldn't approve of an uninvited guest, especially one
as young and attractive as you."

When we got to the front door I was struck dumb, for their waiting for him
was a coach and horses, with the Venetian coat of arms painted on its
doors. Lorenzo spoke to the driver quietly so that I couldn't hear, passed
him some money and helped me into the coach.  Carefully he drew the blinds
and sat looking at me.

"I've asked Ludo to take the long way back to your house. It's the least I
can do to make it up to you," he smiled, resting his hands on my
knees. "Now, we can sit here like two fish on a slab, talk about the
weather, or get to know each other better. Which would you like to do?"

"Unfortunately, I know nothing about fish or the weather," I replied
happily.

"Well," Lorenzo said, squeezing my thighs cheerfully, "That only leaves one
thing, doesn't it?"

I nodded and dropped my eyes.

"I've felt your tackle and drawn its juices for you, so I think that I am
entitled to a look at them now, don't you?"

Wordlessly I lifted up my toga and bundled it under my arms.

"Magnificent!" he whispered as he took it in hand. "You really are a
beautiful boy, from head to toe, and in between as well!"  He raised my
prick to its full size and stroked it with one finger, admiring it.

"Stand up," he ordered.

I did as I was bid and stood between his thighs, placing my hands on his
shoulders to keep my balance in the swaying coach. Delicately, almost
nervously, he kissed the end of my erection, then slid his tongue up and
down it, feather-light.

I was driven insane by the delicate touches that were sort of there and not
there at the same time: my prick demanding more, as was I. Biting my bottom
lip to stop me crying out, I dug my fingers into his shoulders.

Then he engulfed me in one all-absorbing move, caressing my eggs with his
fingers. His tongue licked and lapped wonderfully, seeming to be everywhere
at once. Somehow he managed to slip it inside my foreskin and I almost
passed out with the intensity of the pleasure it gave me. When I felt my
eggs draw up, I managed to whisper that I was about to burst.

In reply, he sucked hard and squeezed my eggs gently, welcoming the warm
juices onto his tongue. Letting my prick slip out of his mouth he pulled me
towards him, pressing a painful and vicious kiss to my lips. And to my
disgust, swilled the unswallowed stuff around both our mouths.

"Swallow!" he said as we parted. I did as I was told.

I'd tasted the stuff before of course, and never objected to it. The thing
which unnerved me a little was the tongue wrestle first and the thought
that it was the produce of my own body I was devouring.

"Very good," Lorenzo said, smiling. "You did well."

He stroked my cheeks and then said, "It's your turn now."

Grateful for anything to get rid of the salt taste in my mouth, I knelt
between his legs as he opened his breeches for me. Taking him in hand, I
played with his tackle, using my talents to arouse him completely. I was
really getting into it and enjoying myself when he whispered urgently, "Be
quick, we're almost there!"

In my concentration I'd forgotten where we were, and what the time
was. With some sadness I used both my mouth and hand to satisfy him.

Holding his juices in my mouth, I looked at him. Smiling, he kissed
me. "You're a quick learner," he said as we dressed ourselves.

We kissed and cuddled for the few remaining minutes until we reached
Federico's osteria. As I climbed out of the coach, he slipped a few coins
into my hand and whispered, "Remember my name, Lorenzo. We will meet again,
of that I am sure."

Late as it was, Federico was still awake and waiting up in case any of his
boys came back.

"Problems?" he said with an air of concern.

"No," I answered, "At least I don't think so. The man who took me couldn't
take me back to where he's staying."

"What was his name?"

"Lorenzo," I said.

Federico jumped at hearing this and asked me to describe him. I did so and
asked if I had done anything wrong.

"Oh, no," he said, "Not at all. Not at all!"

With that, he sent me off to bed. I was too tired to ask any questions and
he wouldn't have answered them anyway.

Chapter Five Aldo was still awake when I stumbled into bed, anxious to hear
all about my night. Despite my tiredness, I managed to give Aldo a fair
account of it, including the Roman Dance of the twins. No matter how I
tried, I couldn't describe how it felt to watch TomDom's performance, the
only proof I could offer was the stiff pole under my night-shirt.

Aldo must've felt it too as he leaned over and whispered, "Want to make use
of that?"  I'd been made to shoot my juices twice already that evening and
I didn't think I could manage it again, but there was one thing he could do
for me though. Resting on my hands and knees, I presented my arse to
him. Grinning happily, he filled it with his ever-ready prick and buggered
me soundly.

I only just managed to thank him with a kiss before I fell into a deep
sleep, dreaming dreams that even I would be ashamed to put in writing.

I had a completely different outlook on life from that night onwards: I was
so impressed by the twins that I dreamed of little else for a while. In
some ways I was envious of them as their fame grew rapidly. Federico had to
ration their performances though, partly because their notoriety was sure
to attract unwanted attention eventually, partly because the dancing (and
what developed afterwards) tired them a great deal and partly because the
clients they visited had to be restricted to those we could trust without
question. We had one or two little problems caused for us by a new young
priest called Savonarola who was making a name for himself in some parts of
the city by railing against all forms of enjoyment, whether it was music,
dancing or even the theatre. He was a dour, bad-tempered and ugly man who
was hated by the aristocracy but was gaining popularity among the artisan
classes rapidly.

The twins offered to teach me how to dance, but it was soon agreed that I
would never make a dancer - I was too ungainly for that and couldn't
co-ordinate my arms and legs at all. One thing I learned from them though
was how to tease and excite even the most jaded and reluctant of men until
they were truly aroused and more than ready to perform. For this I
discovered I had a special gift, probably due to the fact that I really
enjoyed what I was doing.

Aldo and I stayed as bed partners and friends as well, sharing all our
secrets and dreams in our night-time congresses. Federico knew about our
activities - it was impossible for him not to but he gave a qualified
assent to them one day when he took me on one side and commented how much
Aldo had changed since we had become friends.

"He is much happier now than he was before you came," he said. "You seem to
be good for him in some way!"

He left it at that, apart from moving us to a chamber away from the others
'so as we wouldn't disturb them by our 'talking' all night'.

I'd been so involved in myself that it was only after a long time that I
remembered 'Como, much to my shame. Determined to seek him out, I persuaded
Federico to let me have a day free on the pretence that I wanted to look at
some of the paintings in the churches. Choosing the poorest and most dismal
clothes I could find, I set out early one morning for the Arsenale.  It
wasn't long before I saw him sat watching the ships in the harbour, he
hadn't change at all I was pleased to see, just a bit bigger. He didn't
recognise me at first, but once he did, he was all over me - in my typical
selfish way, I had failed to realise completely how much he cared for me..

As usual he had no money at all and was almost starved. Gladly I bought
some pasta and fried liver for us and we sat talking.

"Still living in the same place?" I asked, chewing on a tough piece of
meat..

"Mmm," he mumbled, "Wanna go there?"

Needless to say, I did. Not necessarily for sex though - that might or
might not be his reason for asking and I wasn't bothered either way. What
he did need was company and a friend to talk to, and I was more than
willing to do that.

Once ensconced in his poor hut, I remembered every bit of it with happy
memories and I rambled on, hardly aware of what I was saying, so pleased
was I to have found him, and forget my work for a while.

During a break for me to take a breath, 'Como suddenly said, "I miss
you. When you didn't come back that day, I thought you were dead."

He was serious about this - it wasn't uncommon for people to disappear and
later to be found dead, the victim of a mindless fight or robbery. Life was
cheap

There were tears forming in his eyes as we spoke, which he quickly wiped
away - after all, he was a tough Venetian street urchin and they didn't
cry. Embarrassed on his behalf, I embraced him tightly and gave him a deep
kiss. This released a dam and he gripped me firmly and passionately, tears
now falling freely.

"Will you fuck me?" he stammered out through his sobs. "If you don't want
to, I'll understand, but ..."

"I'd love to," I butted in, "But you'll be my first and I wouldn't want to
disappoint you."

For some reason this amused him and the tears changed to laughter.

"What? You done, well everything else, but still never ...!"  I shook my
head. "No one's ever asked before."

"Come on, then. Let me be your first."

We undressed each other and once again took a good look at our
bodies. 'Como now had an impressive bush, much to my surprise and delight -
it suited him.

"I shave mine off," I told him. "My - err - friends like me better like
this."

He shrugged his shoulders, said, "It makes you look younger, nicer," and
reached for the olive oil. I was about to take it from him when he said
throatily, "No, let me."

Pouring a little into the palm of his hand, he smoothed it onto my shaft,
looking at my prick lovingly.

"Stop!" I gasped. Such was my excitement that if he'd just pulled once more
stroke, I would spoil everything.

Grinning madly, he lay on his back, lifted his legs in the ait and offered
himself to me. "I want to watch," he said in explanation.

Trembling with nerves, I got down on my knees and touched my prick against
him. The first contact of his hole with my crown sent forth forks of
lightening through me and I gasped, trembling even more. I put my hands on
his legs to steady myself and looked at 'Como.

"Push gently," he whispered.

I tried. I really, desperately tried, but no matter what I did, my prick
either slipped away, or bent painfully in protest.

"Wait," 'Como said, just as frustrated as me.

I watched as he grabbed his arse cheeks and pulled them apart.

"Hold it with one hand and try again."

On the third attempt, I was rewarded with a sudden lurch forward and I was
in! 'Como bit his bottom lip at the intensity of the pain he must have felt
as I entered. I paused, giving him time to get accustomed to it.

"OK," he nodded, "But take it slowly."

I eased in a tiny bit, then pulled back. Then in a little deeper, and
pulled back. From bitter memory, I knew just what to do so as to keep the
pain down as much as possible. It took me ages, but I managed at long last
to get myself all in.

"There! Done it!" I squealed proudly.

'Como relaxed and even managed a smile, despite the drops of blood on his
lips where he'd bitten himself.

"How's it feel?" he asked.

I shook my head, unable to put my feelings into words, letting my tears of
joy do it for me.

"I can't tell you," I eventually managed to stammer out. "Wonderful!
Marvellous!  Unbelievable!"

This made him smile broadly, "Go for it then," he laughed.

And I did. The feeling of being fucked by the right man is indescribable;
fulfilling, satisfying, and a joyous event. The feeling of fucking is just
as thrilling, but in a different way. I was deliriously happy and
inordinately proud of myself, feeling more masculine than I had ever been
allowed to be before. Gently at first, I began to rock backwards and
forwards, using the full length of my cock. It was then that I learned how
hard it is to keep yourself under control as before long I was fucking him
as hard and aggressively as I could. Three times I misjudged it and my
prick slipped out, each time it was grabbed and forced back, without a
thought for how 'Como felt. Something else I understood.

All too soon, I shot out what must've been a month's supply of juice, my
eggs shrinking back painfully. I let my now soft prick fall out and
collapsed alongside 'Como, eyes glazed and mouth agape.

"Well done!" he sniggered. "You were brilliant."  I smiled wanly at him and
stroked his cheeks lovingly. Leaning over, I kissed him. "I love you," I
whispered, and much to my surprise, found I meant it. As much to hide my
embarrassment at the uncalled-for show of emotion, I bent down and took his
prick into my mouth.

"You haven't go to, if you don't want," he said quietly.

Ignoring him, I gave the best sucking I could and soon had him writhing
like a serpent before allowing him to come in my mouth, the proceeds of
which I swallowed hungrily.

Usually when I've had sex I feel tired and miserable for a while, but this
time I didn't - probably because I was so pleased with myself. 'Como let me
talk what was almost certainly nonsense until he reminded me how late it
was getting. Sadly, we dressed ourselves and returned to the harbour area,
arm in arm. As I took his leave, we kissed on the cheeks as friends do, but
before we broke our embrace, I was astounded to hear 'Como whisper, "I love
you too!" before he turned and hurried off.

I ran all the way back, thrilled and happy. Not only had I had my first
fuck, but I was in love and I was loved in return. It is a wonderful world
we live in I decided, a wonderful, magical world.

A day or two later I was summoned by Federico into his private living
quarters. Fearing I was in trouble for something I had done, or not done, I
stood in front of him, hands clasped behind my back and staring at my feet.

"Bartolomeo," he started. "I have an assignment for you. An important one."

I looked up, relived that I was to be spared a beating.

"I have received a message asking for you especially. Someone who knows you
is having a painting done and wants you to pose for it. He has asked that I
don't tell you his name yet, he wants to see if the artist approves first."

There was a pause before he went on, "The request isn't unusual in itself,
but the man comes from an important Venetian family and he is the first one
of them to use our services. That's why it is important, if it is
successful, there may be more work for both of us. An appointment has been
made for you, so make sure you are clean, tidy and presentable. Get the
other boys to find you the best clothes we have and that you are
well-scrubbed. Oh, and one last thing.  Make sure you sleep well the night
before, I don't want you overtired or spent."  The last part of Federico's
instructions were well aimed. Aldo and I would have to forego our pleasures
that night, under orders.

Having been dismissed, I returned to my quarters to share my news with the
others. They were all very pleased for me and helped find some suitable
attire. After an age of searching through the store, we found something
which would look good on me, and, so I was told, would enhance my
appearance.

The clothes fitted me almost perfectly. They were made of the finest
Egyptian cotton and dyed in bright blues, reds and gold. There was even a
stylish cap to match and clean, white leg hose to complete it. Trying it
on, I felt like a prince and was sure I would be the envy of any of the
other page boys I would come across. After I took the outfit off, and
before I could re-dress, TomDom took me to the bath room to start cleaning
me up.

First they trimmed and fashioned my hair, leaving it long at the back and
short at the front and sides as was the current fashion. They then
painfully cleaned out my nose and ears and cut my nails before getting me
to climb into the bath.

"Now for the best bit," TomDom grinned as they waved the sharp blade at me.

Covering my few hairs with the perfumed soap and working it up to a thick
lather, TomDom carefully removed every pubic hair until I was so perfectly
smooth that my skin almost shone.  Inevitably my prick stood to rigid
attention whilst they were attending to me, and to relieve my excitement, I
took TomDom's members in my hands and gently played with them, enjoying the
pleasure of the soft, pink meat under my fingers as they worked. TomDom
completely ignored my groping until they'd finished, and after a close
inspection of their work, kissed my erection and stood up.

Reluctant to relinquish my hold of them, I gazed at their pricks, now
pointing directly at me.

"Got it!" I said, laughing, giving their dicks a squeeze in my
excitement. "I know how to tell you apart!"

They turned and grinned at each other, pleased that I'd discovered their
secret.

"Your thing bends to the left a little," I said, pointing at Tom (or Dom),
"and yours to the right," I added, looking at the other.

"At last!" Said Dom (or Tom). "But which is Tom?"  "And which is Dom?" said
Tom (or Dom).

That got me. I knew there was a difference now, and what it was. But I
still didn't know if it was Tom or Dom that leaned to the left, or .... !

"I'm Tom," said the left one. "But it won't do you any good. You can hardly
take them out every time you want to know who you're talking to, can you?"

He was right of course, but I was pleased with myself anyway.

"There's one more way you can tell us apart," said Dom. "One which no one
knows except us. If you promise not to tell anyone, we'll show you."

I nodded my agreement and waited.

"Put your ear on my chest and listen to my heart," said Dom.

It was a strange request, but I did so, my dick throbbing at the close and
intimate contact I was having with his skin.

"All I can hear is your heart beating. So what?" I said.

"Now do it to me," said Tom.

There wasn't a sound, only the faintest of thumps. Tom moved my head across
to the other side of his chest, and there it was! On the wrong side of his
chest.

"We're like mirrors," he said. "If we stand facing each other, our hearts
are opposite one another. And our dicks are like mirrors too," he giggled.

He was absolutely right - the curves of their members matching exactly. I
was impressed.  Thinking for a moment, I put a hand over each of their
hearts, and could just about feel them under my fingers. That was another
way I could tell them apart, and a little more polite than asking them to
show me their pricks!

"Secret?" they said together.

"Secret!" I giggled. "Who'd believe me anyway!"

"Good. Now you get your reward, Dom said as he kissed me softly.

Tom, not to be left out, kissed and sucked my cock lightly.

"Anything else you want?" Dom said, his meaning obvious as he stroked
himself.

I nodded, turned my back to him and bent over slightly.

His small hands grasped my hips as he stepped forward. Tom pointed Dom's
prick in the right direction and I opened my arse to let him slide in,
beautifully and delightfully.

Tom, to my amazement, came and stood in front of me, presenting his back.

"Go on," he whispered, "Stick it up me."

Not needing to be asked twice, I wrapped my arms round his waist and pulled
him back.  Holding my prick in place, I entered his waiting hole.

My whole universe was now centred in my groin. Never had I felt so intense
a feeling. The hot, stiff member filling my fundament and the lovely, tight
grip Tom had on my own organ was truly sensational and beyond belief!

Carefully we started to rock back and forth, each thrust from Don causing
me to pleasure Tom simultaneously. It took a bit of practice, but we
developed a smooth rythym which satisfied us all. The twins were experts,
of that there was no doubt. Dom had a trick of moving his hips slightly so
as to give the feeling that his member was alive, and seeking only to
delight me. Tom clenched and unclenched his arse cheeks in time with the
thrustings, heightening my pleasure astronomically.

With our experience, we were able to delay things for a while, taking the
maximum thrill from our triple coupling. It was Dom who brought things to a
climax first, his prodding and poking suddenly taking on an urgent
tremble. Having no choice, I treated Tom to exactly the same.

Then we orgasmed as if we were one united body, Dom filling me, me filling
Tom, and Tom clouding the water with his juices. It was sublime - and
noisy!

I went to bed fully satiated, with a sore arse and tender prick, unable to
explain why to Aldo.  In fact we had a celibate night, my using the excuse
that I needed to conserve myself for whatever was going to happen the
following day. We had a few kisses and cuddles though to please ourselves.

Chapter Six The following morning, Federico showed me a piece of paper with
an address on it, and two names. I was to make my way there
alone. Fortunately I knew the area vaguely, and not this particular house
at all, it was in a poorish part of the city, lived in by the many artisans
that thronged Venice. One of the two names I didn't recognise at all, the
painter whose name was Botticelli, the other name I did know, Lorenzo de
Medici!

Taking a water taxi from the Grand Basin, I soon found myself in the Frani
district and searching for the studio. It didn't take too long: the quality
of the clothes I was wearing guaranteed me a civil response when I asked
for directions and more than one offer of a guide at the cost of a few
coppers. I'm sure that the responses I had would have been a great deal
different if I'd been attired as I used to be.

Anyway, I reached the house without any trouble and tapped at the door
anxiously, wondering what was going to happen to me next. It was opened by
a boy a year or two older than myself dressed in a loose fitting
robe. Rather than ask me what I wanted, he cocked his head on one side and
looked at me quizzically. After I'd told him who I was looking for, he
simply nodded his head, left me standing at the door and disappeared
inside. Moments later he returned, invited me to enter and closed the door
behind me before leading me into the painter's studio, all without a word
being exchanged.

The place was a mess: there were paintings everywhere, some completed, some
not, others with angry brush marks all over them as if they had been
rubbished. The painter was sat at an easel contemplating a drawing, but at
the interruption turned round to look at me.

He examined me closely for a few seconds, then nodding his head simply said
'strip', I can't tell anything like that. Turning to the boy, he pointed at
me and waved his hands.

"That's Tomaso, he'll help you. No good talking to him, he's a deaf mute,
but lip reads very well. I'm Botticelli, Sandro Botticelli. And you are?"

"Bart. Bartolomeo," I replied, somewhat awed by his gruff manner.  Tomas
helped remove my clothes, those which had taken so long to get into and
made to look right, until I was left standing in nothing but my drawers.

"Those too," Sandro said.

I removed them and stood there, acutely embarrassed, looking at them
looking at me. It didn't help when I glanced at Tomas who'd let his robe
fall open to reveal his nakedness beneath.  He smiled at me, trying I'm
sure to lend me some confidence as he nodded approvingly.

Normally when a man looks at me when I'm undressed, he has only one thing
on his mind, but with Sandro, there wasn't even the slightest hint of
lechery, I might just as well have been one of his paintings. He peered at
me from every angle and had me move around the room to see me in different
lights and different poses, moving my arms and legs to try and capture some
image he had in his mind. All the while Tomaso stayed where he was, still
with that smile on his face, and a growing erection which he took no pains
to hide. I had to look away before the infection caught.

"Good," Sandro said at last. "You'll do. Not perfect, but you'll do."

And with that he turned away, seeming to forget me instantly. "Be here
tomorrow, early." he said with his back to me.

Tomas moved across in front of me and picked up my drawers ready to help me
dress. Before doing so however, he gave my prick and eggs a stroke and
placed my hand in his groin, indicating that I should do the same. Without
thinking, I started to play with him and would probably have enjoyed it,
but suddenly he stopped and pulled my drawers up for me, looking over my
shoulder. From behind, I heard a familiar voice say, "Don't worry, I'll do
that Tomaso."

Spinning round, I was surprised to see Lorenzo standing there, waving
Tomaso away.

"Hello, Bart," he grinned. "I'm pleased Sandro approves. You'll make a
handsome Saint John for me."

We embraced each other lightly and kissed cheeks.

"Come," he said, "Let's make you respectable."

Together we managed to get me dressed, but not before he'd given me a
friendly stroke or two which left me frustrated and wishing he'd complete
what he'd started.

When I was fully dressed, he gave me a proper kiss and put an arm round my
waist. Turning round to say our goodbyes to Sandro and Tomaso, I wasn't too
surprised to see Tomaso, now sans robe, draped round Sandro's neck and
looking at the picture in front of them. Sandro was rubbing Tomaso's prick
idly as he thought.

"Come," Lorenzo said, "I think it's time we were elsewhere."

This time, the coach was far less ostentatious, not being any different to
the hundreds of others around Venice: the driver was the same though and he
gave me a slight nod of recognition as we climbed in.

Within seconds Lorenzo had me in his arms and was kissing me fervently, a
hand inside my hose.

"Hold me," he whispered and pushed my own hand into his groin.

As we fondled each other, he explained that he was to have two pictures of
a youthful Saint John painted for him by the artist I'd just met, one for
himself and one for his church.

"But why two?" I asked, stupidly.

"One, rather decorous, for the church," he smiled, "and another one the
same, except, shall we say, more for private viewing. You don't mind posing
nude, do you?"

"Not for you," I giggled. "Have you anywhere we can go now?"

"No," he said sadly, "Not yet. But I am negotiating for a house close by
Saint Maria's, and when that is mine, we will make full use of it, I am
sure."

I was not happy at having nowhere private to go: I was feeling particularly
excited at being with him again and wished for more than a fumble in his
carriage. But then, if we had no place to go, I simply had to made do with
what we had. Loosening his hose, I extracted his member and dropped to my
knees, holding his eggs in one hand as I introduced him to my mouth. It
took longer than before, but was no less pleasurable. He seemed to have a
special odour about him which aroused me and before long I had to drop my
own dress to my thighs as I was in great danger of soiling them. Trying my
best to ignore my feelings, I stimulated Lorenzo until he spurted his juice
in my mouth, filling it nearly completely. Instead of swallowing it
straightaway as I wished to, I hurriedly stood up, pressed my own member
between Lorenzo's lips and spurted out my own seed instantly. We then
kissed, allowing our juices to mingle together before being swallowed
willingly.

"You really are learning, aren't you!" Lorenzo smiled as he wiped our lips
on my tunic. "That was exceptional! We really must get together more often"

I can't remember the journey home at all, my mind full not only of the
paintings I was to sit for, but of Lorenzo and what the future held for
me. The fact that I didn't like swallowing my own juices, even when mixed
with someone else's, played on my mind slightly, but after considering it,
I decided that it was a small price to pay if I could spend more time with
Lorenzo.

Federico questioned me closely when I got home, asking me to repeat myself
several times to make sure I got things right. At the end, he seemed well
satisfied and even gave me a little money as a reward for being so
good. This I added to the other monies I had saved, all of which was given
to me by satisfied customers, including Lorenzo, although I neglected to
tell Federico about it.

I spent the evening with the boys who weren't working that night, including
Aldo and the twins. It was my turn to wash the clothes that'd been soiled
over the past few days, together with Dom and Tom. It was hard, thankless
work and by far the most disliked job we had to do. Nevertheless, it had to
be done and so the three of us gritted our teeth and set to work.  Within a
few minutes, it became so hot in the wash room that we stripped down to our
drawers. The sight of Tom and Dom., all but naked, took my mind of the
tedious work and time passed quicker, particularly as I had to keep
reminding myself whose heart was where, and who it was. Tom and Dom were
more than happy to play my game and even let me see their prongs so I could
be reminded of those too. In turn, they of course had to check that I
hadn't grown any more hair in the past 24 hours. Several times. Things
would probably have gone further, but the steam and heat in the room was
too great for us to enjoy ourselves properly, and in any case the risk was
too great. Instead I had to satisfy myself with the possibility of messing
about with Aldo later that night, despite what Federico said. I knew the
twins would be equally occupied too if I knew them.

Once the work was finished, we gave each other a congratulatory kiss and
cuddle before getting dressed and joining the others. Aldo was still
preparing the vegetables for the morrow I discovered; the boy who was
supposed to help him was ill in bed with a chill and so I helped him
finish. Apart from anything else, it gave me the chance to tell him what
had happened during the day and ask for his advice on what I needed to
know. He was very pleased for me and said that it would be hard, boring
work most of the time, but there would be some reward as well: he knew both
Tomaso and Botticelli as he'd worked there before. I was right in guessing
that Tomaso was Sandro's boy, and also that they both liked to 'relax'
sometimes during the day. More often than not, the painter's model would be
invited to join them if he was willing and comely enough.

When we were in our bed later that night, Aldo made me laugh when he told
me a story about Tomaso. Aldo was suppose to be sitting for Sandro, but had
to go out on an urgent mission and he left Aldo and Tomaso together in the
studio and told them to wait for him. When Sandro didn't return after an
hour, they became bored, and to fill in the time went to bed and began to
play. Sandro was away for so long that both boys tired themselves out and
fell asleep with their dicks in each other's mouth. When Sandro came back
and saw them, he was very angry at first, not because of what they hd been
doing, but because Tomaso would be useless in bed that night and blamed
Aldo for leading him astray. Then when he saw both of them standing in
front of him naked, with their pricks slowly erecting again, he calmed down
and laughed at them before joining them on the bed!

Taking the chance whilst Aldo was in a good, talkative mood I told him how
I felt about swallowing my own juices, and asked him what he thought. He
laughed again and said that for the first six months after he found that he
could make the juices, he consumed everything he produced! "I had to," he
grinned, "I was doing it so often that I didn't know what else to do with
it!" Then he said, "Come on, I'll help you get used to it."

He arranged us so that we were laid head-to-toe and we each had a dick in
out mouths to suck on.

"Let's make sure we come together," he explained. "And then we'll do what
you and Lorenzo did."

It didn't seem so bad when we did it; Aldo's juice didn't taste as bitter
as Lorenzo's and was much the same as mine. It helped of course that I
really liked kissing Aldo and it was worth swallowing the stuff just for
the kisses.

I didn't wear any fancy clothes to the studio the following day, instead I
chose to follow Tomaso's example and wear simpler ones, which could be
taken off easily, although not as simple as his robe! Sandro was nicer to
me when I got there, maybe because he wanted to get on with the
painting. Anyway, he didn't ask me to get undressed this time: instead he
made lots of charcoal drawings of my head and shoulders in all sorts of
different positions. Tomaso was there to help us, dressed today in a pair
of loose workman's pants and I could tell he was glad to see me because he
smiled a lot and kept rubbing between his legs all the time. I couldn't see
how big he was down there because of his clothes, but sometimes he put his
fingers around it and showed me how hard he was. I gave him a smile back
each time he did it and let him see that I was getting bigger too, but
there was nothing more we could do because we were working.

After about three hours, Sandro said that it was time for something to eat
and stopped work, telling Tomaso to get the food ready. Before he did that
though, I told him that I needed to make water and as he couldn't talk or
hear me, I had to show him with my hand what I needed by pretending to take
a piss. He grinned at me, signalled to Sandro what he was doing and led me
to the back of the studio. When I was shown the pot I was to piss in, he
didn't leave me alone to attend to my business, he stood in front of me and
dropped his clothes so he could have a piss as well. Of course we looked at
each other's prongs as we did it and again I was quite impressed by what I
saw. His thing was bigger than mine of course but not by much, he did have
two things that I fixed in my mind though: firstly he had quite a lot of
pubic hair and although not as much as a man did, it looked nice, just the
right size and shape to make me get hard. The second thing I discovered was
that he, like me, hadn't been cut when he was a baby. People like us were
rare enough in Venice to notice specially and we grinned at each other as
we compared our foreskins. Slowly I moved my hand across the piss pot to
take hold of it, taking my time just in case he didn't want me to touch
him. Thankfully, he didn't mind and as I took it between my fingers for the
first time, he did the same to me.  Because he was hairy, and because I had
had all mine shaved off, that was the part of our groins that interest us
the most. He looked at me questioningly as he ran his fingers over my
baldness as if wanting to know why I was hairless. I tried to explain in
easy words that it wasn't because I couldn't grow any, but because I needed
to be like that for my work. He seemed to understand this as he nodded and
then started to work his hand up and down my pole. Taking this as a sign
that he wanted me to do the same to him, I grasped him firmly and began to
play with him. We'd only just started to enjoy ourselves when Sandro called
out loudly for Tomaso. He pulled a face and mouthed what I am sure was a
rude word as he let go of me and pulled his clothes up. Yet again, I was
left with a hard cock and no one except myself to do anything with
it. Remembering what Aldo had told me, I decided not to do what I wanted so
badly needed and dressed myself, hoping that I would be invited to join
Sandro and Thomas for a rest after we'd eaten.

That wasn't to be. Just as soon as we'd finished the food, Sandro told me
to go for a walk and come back in an hour's time. The expectant erection
I'd had all the time we were eating melted away in disappointment and
Tomaso looked at me in sympathy, knowing exactly how I felt.

If I'd been in my own area of Venice, and felt as I did now, I could easily
have found a boy or man to give me some relief but as I didn't know this
area at all, I didn't have a clue where to go so instead I went to a nearby
osteria and had myself a glass of well-watered wine and sugared cake. As I
sat watching the world go by I noticed several street boys who would
probably have given me some relief for a few coppers, but they were
rough-looking and very dirty of appearance. With a start, I realised that
not so long ago I was just like them, desperate to earn a scudi or two in
any way I could, and pleasuring a passer-by was one of the easiest. I'd
almost decided to take advantage of one of them when I remembered what else
could happen. Clasping my money pouch in my hand, I turned away sadly and
concentrated on my repast.

Sandro and Tomaso must've had a pleasant rest period as they both seemed
rather jaded when I eventually returned and neither paid much attention to
their work. I sat in the corner, ignored by them both until I stood next to
Sandro to remind him I was still there. After a little while he noticed me
with some surprise and said that I wouldn't be needed for the remainder of
the day, but to make sure I was back tomorrow when we would start our work
properly.

Now at a complete loose end, I headed back towards home. Whilst I was on
the water taxi waiting for it to arrive in the city, I had an idea. Once
we'd tied up on the quayside, I ran to the Arsenale. I had at least two
hours liberty and I knew just who would give me some pleasant company.

'Como was sat in his usual place, dangling his feet in the canal. Sat close
beside him was another boy and they were obviously deep in
conversation. For a few seconds I was red with anger at him for betraying
me, then after I'd calmed down a bit, I was just jealous that another boy
was sat where I should be. Not sure whether I should interrupt there
discourse or walk away, I opted for the middle road. Picking up a small
stone off the road, I threw it so it hit 'Como lightly on the back. Turning
round in a fury, he suddenly saw me, grinned broadly and ran across the
road leaving his friend behind.

We embraced mightily and kissed each other, first on the cheeks and then on
the lips quickly.  His eyes were sparkling bright with happiness and he
began to talk quickly and nonsensically as he put his arm round my shoulder
and led me towards his shelter. Once hidden away inside, we hugged properly
and kissed deeply. I felt both our hearts racing away as I held on to him,
and I had a dull ache in my groin which got no better as I became hard.

Just as fast as we could, we undressed down to our skin and fell onto the
floor, still hanging on to one another. Our hands were all over,
desperately caressing and fondling where we willed, our tongues having
their own battle inside our mouths. I don't know how long it had been since
we last saw each other, but it was as if we hadn't seen one another for
years and we were making up for lost time. I had my eyes closed and was
clutching him as tight as I could when I felt my body shudder violently and
I shot out my seed between us with an energy I didn't know I possessed, to
be followed instantly by 'Como doing just the same - and neither of us had
touched down there!

Laughing in astonishment, we stared at the sticky mess on our bodies and
hugged again, more tenderly and passionately this time.

"I do believe I have missed you," 'Como giggled as he ran a finger through
the spilt juices cooling on my navel.

"I hope you have some more left," I sighed as I stroked his member, knowing
where it would be in a few minutes time.

"For you, anything!" he sighed, resting his head on my chest.

We spent a few minutes catching up on our news excitedly until both our
members were ready for use once more. Reaching over for the oil, I handed
it to 'Como and whispered, "You first."

It was growing dark by the time we separated reluctantly. With a final
kiss, we parted with promises to meet again as soon as we could. The walk
home was long, my prong hanging loose between my legs and feeling very raw
and tender - it had been a long time since it had been abused so much in
such a brief time, and my fundament was in no better state either which
ensured I walked slowly and carefully.

Once inside the house, Federico took one look at me, sniffed the air,
smiled wryly, and said that he would talk to me after I'd taken a bath.

Thanks be to the Gods, he assumed that my state was due to the attentions
of Sandro Botticelli and his boy and made no comment about it other than to
say that it appeared I was performing satisfactorily.  Chapter Seven

Once again life fell into a steady routine - or at least what passes for a
routine in such an establishment as ours! Tom and Dom had built on their
success and had now added a Greek themed dance to their repertoire. I
hadn't seen it in its entirety but had had glimpses of it when they were
rehearsing and it looked a great deal more arousing that the one I'd seen,
Greeks being renowned for performing most things in the nude.

Work with Sandro progressed slowly: I didn't know how much hard work it was
making a painting. In my ignorance I thought you just got an idea, found a
model and painted it on wood or canvas. Not so. Sandro made dozens of
charcoal drawings first - called cartoons - each one slightly different,
until he got it just right, then he transferred the drawing to a canvas and
began to colour it in. In my case it was fairly easy in that there was very
little background to worry about and I was wearing nothing but a large
piece of cloth draped over my thighs as I sat on a stone wall. At least I
was in the 'official' painting destined for the church. In the second one,
I wore nothing at all.

Sandro did the second picture first, saying that it wasn't quite so
important to get the background right as in this case the subject (me!) was
more important and of interest, and that is where the detailing went. To my
surprise the two paintings, I discovered later, were identical in all
respects at one stage. All he did was to paint the draped cloth on
afterwards - I would like to see the face of anyone who decided to remove
it at a later date!  The three of us, despite Aldo's comments, didn't do
anything at all other than model and paint for the first week or two, not
until I had to pose for nude bit. Once again he spent ages getting me sat
just right, pushing and prodding me until I was in just the right pose. All
three of us worked with solid erections whilst this was being done, much to
Tomaso's amusement and happiness and as you might expect there was a simple
way to lose them. It wasn't so important in Sandro or Tomaso's case, but I
could hardly pose for a religious painting with a giant erection! Despite
my very best efforts, I could neither stop myself rising up to begin with,
or will it to go down once it had arrived. The first two days this
happened, all three of us went into the sleeping chamber to pleasure
ourselves until we were able to re-start our work. Much to my surprise,
Sandro left Tomaso and me to do as we wished, he being quite content to sit
and watch, his loins exposed and dick standing up: once in a while he would
stroke it, but never to finality. Tomaso was a disappointment to me as
well, all he was prepared to do was fondle each other until we produced our
seed, there was no kissing or tender caressing, just a straight forward
rubbing. On the third day, we didn't even do that.  Having got the
inevitable erection just after we started, Sandro did no more than to throw
a carafe of cold water into my groin and told me to behave! Much to my
relief, I wasn't needed very much after that day and welcomed the day I
posed for the last time.

Rather to my shame I'd taken very little interest in Aldo's activities
during this period, partly due to his reluctance to talk very much and
partly because I forgot to ask. Things were forcibly brought to my
attention though as one day he came back from wherever he'd been working in
a bad temper. Not a normal bad temper, but a murderous one. Federico took
him into his office and talked to him for ages, even asking Michelangelo,
the problem-solver, to join them after a while. I knew then that things
were serious.

When he came out of Federico's office, Aldo was only a little calmer: still
red-faced and angry he went straight to our chamber. Giving him a minute or
two, I followed hoping to find out what had happened to make him so
irritable and make him feel better.

I found him laying on our bed, arms folded behind his head and staring at
the ceiling. Sitting beside him, I put a hand on his chest and looked at
him. It took a few minutes, but eventually he turned to look at me and let
a few tears slide down his beautiful face.

"What's happened?" I asked quietly.

He looked at the open door of our chamber, but said nothing. Taking the
hint, I close it and returned to his side. This time, he put his arms round
my waist and sobbed bitterly. It took an age to get him to talk to me
properly and explain what had happened, but eventually he told me.

It turned out that whilst I had been working with Sandro, Aldo had been
assigned to act as guide and companion to a visitor from Sicily and to
start with things had gone well. Apart from tours of the city, the only
thing the man wanted were a few hand rubbings and suckings.  Then today the
man had asked Aldo to dress up as a girl for him. This was a little unusual
for us but not unknown - some men had odd tastes. Aldo had found a suitable
gown in the store and changed in the man's room. Once again things were OK
to start with, the only difference being that the man seemed more excited
and aroused than he had been before, which was to be expected bearing in
mind the trouble to which Aldo had gone at his request to please him.

"Then we undressed each other,"Aldo said, "and went to the bed. We were
kissing one another when he turned me over and entered me without any
warning or preparation. I knew that he wanted to fuck me, and wouldn't have
minded if he'd done it properly but not the way he did."

I knew Aldo didn't normally have sex this way with clients - he didn't like
it very much and only did it after good preparation and much
arousing. Unlike me, his talents lay in other directions. And again, unlike
me, he'd never had to suffer being taken unwillingly and didn't know how to
prevent it.

"What happened next?" I whispered, stroking his hair.

"When he'd finished, I dressed as quickly as I could and came back
here. And I forgot to pick up the dress."

"Never mind that," I said, "Is there any damage?"

"I bled a little I think, and I hurt as well."

With some difficulty we managed to get Aldo undressed and I examined him
carefully. He was right, he had been bleeding, but not a great deal, and he
seemed to be otherwise undamaged apart from a sore redness around his hole
and a little bruising. Very carefully I cleaned him up as much as I could
with some warm water and left him to try and sleep for a while.

As he was resting, I went to see Federico and relate to him what I'd
found. He already knew the story of course and had despatched Michelangelo
to see the man. He was pleased to hear that Aldo wasn't hurt as much as he
thought and said that he could rest as long as he wanted.  I also asked
for, and was given, some special ointment that we used once in a while.

As it was evening by now, I decided to get undressed myself and get into
bed with Aldo to comfort him. Picking up the pot of healing ointment, I
explained that it would ease his pain and let him sleep. I didn't tell him
that it was largely opium.  I gazed at him, watching him doze, embracing
gently. As he slept, I started thinking to myself how often I'd wished
there had been someone to take care of me like this when I was younger and
had been treated harshly, to ease the pain and take good care of me, to
show they loved me.

Sometime around midnight, we were disturbed by Michelangelo who came into
our chamber to see how Aldo was. Once he'd satisfied himself that he was on
the mend, he told us that he'd met the man and explained to him in no
uncertain terms the unwarranted harm he'd done to Aldo.

"At first, the man tried to tell me that Aldo wanted it like that,"
Michelangelo said. "But then I told him that Aldo was my friend and I knew
he didn't work like that. He then tried to give me some money, but I
wouldn't take it."

"Why not?" I asked, surprised. "I would have."

"Wouldn't do any good in the long run," he explained. "A man like that
would just go somewhere else and do it again to another boy. I got him
sorted out this time though."

"How?" I queried.

"I spread the word around to the other boys. He won't be able to find
another comfort boy in Venice by now. In fact, he'll be lucky to get out of
the city in one piece," he smirked.

This made me feel very happy and I embraced Michelangelo in thanks.

"That's alright," he said, ruffling my hair. "That's what I'm here
for. Take good care of him for us."

As he reached the door, Michelangelo turned to face me and said, grinning,
"At least I know there's one thing you won't be doing tonight!"

Before I could think of a suitable reply, he'd gone.

We didn't do what he'd suggested of course and in fact we didn't do
anything at all until the early hours when Aldo awoke and blinked his
sleepy eyes at me.

"Feeling better now?" I asked.

"Much, thanks." he smiled. "And I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Sorry that we can't, you know, ..."

"And to think that's the only thing I wanted you for tonight," I
laughed. "I think I'll go to sleep with Federico instead, he'll be more
fun."

We had a slight rough and tumble for a minute or two before we ended up
kissing each other passionately and lovingly. Sex might be off the menu
tonight, but love and friendship wasn't.

I let Aldo go back to sleep a bit later and I stared into the darkness of
our chamber, wondering how on Earth I'd managed to fall in love with two
such different boys at the same time, and what the devil could I do about
it. And then there was Lorenzo as well.

We get some strange men asking for our company once in a while - and I mean
strange by my standards. A week or so after Aldo's episode, I was asked to
show a foreign visitor around our city who appeared to my eyes have little
or no interest in either me or the other boys. He was more than happy to be
shown the tourist sites and listen to what meagre information I could
provide him with. As we took a meal break across the road from a notorious
boy- brothel, he commented quite innocently on the number and frequency of
the men and boys who went in and out. Almost choking on my drink, I
explained to him as delicately as I could what was happening. Rather than
be disgusted as I expected, he seemed rather interested - not as a
prospective client, but more academically.

He had asked me some searching questions to which I gave honest, if
qualified, replies before he looked at me closely for the first time and
said, "You seem to be well informed about such things. Have you been inside
one of those places?"

Then it struck him. "Oh, my goodness! You're not .... You're not sort of
'available' yourself are you?"

Trying my best not to laugh, I said that sometimes men ask me for some
'extra service' beyond being their guide, and that I have been know to
provide it. For a fee.

Once he'd got over the initial embarrassment of finding out what I was, he
fell into a contemplative silence for a while, then said, "I'm interested
in what you have told me and would like to know more. Would you like to
come back to my room so we can talk more freely?"

Then added, blushingly, "Not for anything else I hasten to add. Just so I
can make some notes for my journal. I promise you'll be quite safe with
me."

'Pity', I thought. 'He's not unattractive.' I agreed anyway, my thought
being that at least I won't have to walk him round the city for the rest of
the day.

Back in his room, and in reply to his queries, I gave him a mixture of
truth and imagination, allowing him to write down what he wanted to hear
rather than the grim realities which may have disturbed him and spoil any
good impressions he may have formed about our beautiful city or its
inhabitants.

When I got round to telling him about some of the ways in which men can
show physical love for each other, I not only felt my own member harden at
the thoughts, but his also rose as well. Daringly, I suggested that if he
were sufficiently interested, I could perhaps demonstrate?

"Oh, no, that won't be necessary," he said hurriedly. And then his brain
moved downwards.  "Well, perhaps. It will be a novel experience for me."

Judging that he wouldn't want any more than the use of my hands, I told him
what the usual fee was (after doubling it) and said that it was usual to
pay first as often the men were so satisfied afterwards they fell to
sleep. Without question, he opened his pouch and paid me what I asked
without complaint.

It took no more than fifteen minutes, including the removal of his lower
garments, before he produced his seed in massive amounts and very noisily
too. Feeling a little guilty at charging him so much for nothing at all, I
cleaned him up before adjusting his dress..

"Oh, my goodness!" he said as I was attending to him. "I haven't done that
since I was a young boy. I'd quite forgotten how it felt."

Somehow I managed not to break out in a laughing fit before saying a hasty
goodbye and wishing him a pleasant holiday. Taking a slow, cheerful stroll
home, I knew Aldo would appreciate the story, and what's more I hadn't
spilt any of my juices today and he would appreciate that even more.
Chapter Eight Lorenzo sent a message to me through Federico some time later
saying that he'd like to show me the pictures that Botticelli has
done. It'd been so long ago, and so much had happened in the interval that
I'd almost forgotten about them and so it was with no little excitement
that I went to visit him the following day in his new home.

The house was nice: not as big as some, but decorated and furnished
expensively. When I was taken into the salon to view the picture, I was
very disappointed to see that the one mounted on the wall was the one with
the cloth folded around me. There was something else about it too which
disturbed me. As I looked more closely, I realised that it wasn't either of
the ones that Sandro Botticelli had painted. Looking round at Lorenzo,
seeking an explanation, he told me that the picture I was looking at was a
copy of the church one, done by a local second-rate artist. I was about to
ask why when he stepped up to the painting and turned it over. And there it
was!

I was dumbstruck. It was a beautiful picture - not because it was me, but
it truly was beautiful, seeming to glow in the room adding brightness and
shiny colours to it. Staring at it open-mouthed, I had to touch it, to feel
it, just to make sure that it wasn't real flesh and bone I was looking
at. My face I recognised instantly of course, but the rest of it ...... I
had never seen my prick and balls from this angle before and even though I
say it myself, they looked good and I began to understand why people found
me almost irresistible when I was naked - I even fancied myself!

Lorenzo put an arm round my waist and we gazed at the miracle together. "I
have to hide it behind that awful other picture of you," he
said. "Otherwise I would be staring at it all day, I would get no work done
and my guests would faint."

Once we'd finished with the picture and turned it back to face the wall,
Lorenzo simply said, "Why bother with that when I have the real thing in my
arms?"

I had been so aroused by the image that I melted into his embrace happily
and was pleased to feel that we were both well and truly excited.

"Do you have to return immediately?" he whispered in my ear.

Knowing well that Federico would send him an account for my time in the
near future, even for the visit to see my picture, I nodded and slipped a
hand into his breeches.

Once in the bed chamber, he insisted on undressing me slowly, kissing each
part of my body as he revealed it until I was completely naked when he
placed his lips on my throbbing member and slowly absorbed it into his
mouth.

"Go slowly," I whispered, "I am very close to losing my juices."

Reluctantly he withdrew and then undressed himself. His body looked a lot
younger that I thought it would; he wasn't a great deal taller that 'Como
and had no hair on his body other than under his arms and around his
manhood, and even that was sparse for a man of his age.  His member I
already knew intimately of course, but seeing it in full daylight for the
first time, I decided I liked the appearance of it.

Pulling me closer to him, Lorenzo kissed me deeply and led me to his
bed. Once we were comfortable, we embraced and fondled each other gently,
getting to know our bodies as intimately as we could. It only took me a few
minutes to realise that Lorenzo was a boys man. He knew just which places
to touch at the right time and which places gave most excitement and
pleasure. It had taken me years to learn about these special areas, but he
seemed to know them all and within a few more minutes had me writhing like
a serpent, crying and moaning for him to stop. He didn't though, thank the
Gods, he just kept going.  Between kisses, he looked at me and whispered,
"Do you take it here?" pressing into my arse cheeks with a finger.

I nodded: it was just what I wanted. I began to turn over for him when I
was stopped.

"No," he said. "Let me show you. I want to look at your beautiful face
whilst we perform.  Kneel astride me and lower yourself," he said quietly.

He lay on his back with his member standing solidly upright between his
legs: understanding what he wanted, I did as I was told and soon had him
pressed against my hole. Entwining our fingers for support, I slowly
lowered myself onto him and sighed ecstatically as he entered me. It was
heavenly! I paused for a few moments, relishing the experience and gazing
into his eyes blissfully. Very gradually I started to lift myself up and
down, clenching my cheeks together so as to excite him even more.

Lorenzo was good - he was different to most of the men I'd met because he
actually preferred the company of other males and didn't want people such
as I just for show, his personal fashion accessory, as many aristo's did. I
also understood that due to his connection with the highest and wealthiest
family in Italy, he couldn't let it become widely known. Not only were they
a wealthy family, but they were notoriously cruel as well when the need
arose - including their own family; more than one of Lorenzo's cousins had
vanished over the years.

Just at that moment though, these thoughts were far from Lorenzo's mind as
he took his pleasure with me, his face showed that he was truly enjoying
having his member inside me and alternated between bucking me up and down
furiously and resting, simply content to gaze at me.

Even when he'd spurted his seed inside me, it wasn't very long before I was
taken into his mouth and soon deposited my juice into his waiting throat. I
giggled slightly to myself as I thought that it was only a very short
journey from where he'd lost his seed to where mine had just issued from! I
was also grateful that he didn't want me to take him by mouth as well.

After I'd taken another look at my portrait, I was about to depart when he
slipped a gold coin into my hand, by far the most I'd ever been given. I
was also reluctant to accept it strangely, mainly because I was sure that I
had had just as good a time as he had and it seemed somehow wrong to be
paid so much to enjoy myself - but I didn't take too much persuading to
accept it.

On the way home I paid a visit to the Medici family church where my
painting was hung and was very pleased: it was just as good as the other in
quality, but nowhere near as arousing of course because of the drapery
covering my nether regions. I sat and gazed at it for a while, noticing one
or two people comparing me with the picture and realising that I was the
model.  If only they knew what the cloth concealed, and to what use it had
been gladly put only recently.

As the cold winter weather drew on, the work for us boys began to decline,
there were very few visitors to the city, and the demand for 'page boys'
fell off as not so many people went out. The only thing that kept us going
were the dinner parties and the odd artist who had a studio warm enough for
us to work in.

Aldo and I were pleased to be sent to a dinner party together for the first
time shortly before Christmastide. It was to be a very quiet affair
apparently as just two boys were requested - and without asking for anyone
in particular. The host, who was only slightly know to Federico, was a
cloth merchant giving a party for his friends and so we took no particular
pains as to who was attending.

As it turned out, the night was good. Most of the men who kept comfort boys
of their own brought them along and there were just three or four who
needed the attentions of Aldo and me. The meal was of good quality and
enjoyed by all - including us for a change. Towards the end of the evening,
Aldo told me that he had been invited to stay with one of the guests, a man
called Vittore who everyone spoke highly of, and so we were both
content. The only slight problem was that I would have to make my way home
alone, but thought little of it as wasn't too far away. The only sadness I
felt was that I would have to spend the night alone, which I wasn't use to
and didn't like.

I must have been thinking about the lonely night in bed I had before me
because I failed to notice a gang of three boys approach, who without any
warning set about me. Completely unable to defend myself, I was soon on the
floor being kicked and pummelled viciously.  Doing the only thing I could,
I cupped my genitals in my hands and curled up into a ball. My first
thought was that they knew what occupation I followed and would therefore
savage that part of me which kept me in work. Luckily, they left me alone
in that respect: the only thing they wanted was money, and so cut my purse
before running off into the darkness. I had only a few coins in it anyway,
just enough to pay for a ride home if I wanted (and how I wish I had) and
something to eat if we hadn't been fed at the party.

Struggling to my feet in a great deal of pain, I leaned against the wall
assessing the damage.  Most of the blows had fallen on my back and legs and
so there were no deep cuts or, thankfully, broken bones. Realising that
they may well come back once they found how little money there was in he
purse, I hobbled onwards. Fortunately I came across one of the lamp boys
round the corner. There are a great number of these in Venice who make
their living by carrying a lighted torch to guide people home late at
night, and in return for the promise of payment, he aided me back to
Federico's.

Federico soon had me stripped off and inspected the damage, not as my
mother had done once upon a time because I was a source of income, but out
of real concern for my health.

"You were fortunate that they were only boys," he said as he ran his
fingers down my tender back, "A man would have put a knife into you first."
This didn't make me feel any better.

Thanks be to the Gods, the most of the damage was on the surface: I would
be bruised and pained for a few days but that was all. The worst damage was
where I'd been kicked at the base of my spine which made walking
difficult. Summoning Dom and Tom, he instructed them to do they best they
could with the cuts and scrapes, put me to bed and remain with me.

I would have loved for Tom and Dom to bathe me, but given the condition I
was in, this wasn't possible. Instead they brought in a clay pot of warm
water and carefully washed me from head to foot, wiping away the few spots
of blood from my cuts. Inevitably they caused my member to rise up, but to
be honest, for the first time in my life I wasn't in a mood to have it
played with. This didn't seem to upset the twins very much because after a
knowing glance at each other didn't try to do anything. Instead, once I was
settled and almost asleep, one of them left to retire to their room. The
other, Dom I found out later after placing a hand on his chest, crawled
into bed, embraced me and closed his eyes.

Sometime during the night I rolled over and hugged Dom tightly to me,
thinking it was Aldo.  At the back of my mind, knowing it was an unfamiliar
body, I must have realised it wasn't him because I opened my eyes and
looked into Dom's face, awake now that he'd been disturbed. Wordlessly, he
smiled at me and gave me a little kiss. This, of course is what I'd wanted
from Aldo and in his absence was more than pleased to accept one from
Dom. I slid my hand between our bodies and took hold of his now erect penis
and slowly began to rub it.

"Feeling better?" Dom whispered.

"A little," I replied. "As long as I don't move too much."

"Good!" he replied, "Stay where you are."

The next thing I knew was that he'd turned over and had taken me in his
mouth, making sure than his own member was pressing against my lips.

Almost without moving a muscle, I toyed with Dom, and he with me, until my
juices couldn't take anymore stimulation and I ejected into his throat,
closely followed by him doing the same to me. Facing each other once more,
we kissed properly in gratitude to each other.

"It's almost worth getting a beating for," I giggled into his ear, "If that
is the treatment I receive afterwards!"

We fell into a doze then, only to be awakened some time later as Tom came
into my chamber to change places with his brother.

"You awake then?" he said, pulling the bed cover over us.

"Yes," I nodded. "I don't feel sleepy now."

"Not surprised," he laughed. Dom told me."

I grinned at him.

"My turn now," he whispered. "I haven't spilt my juices tonight - yet!"

This time, Tom hugged me closely and inserted his penis between my thighs,
ensuring my own was laid comfortably between us. He then began to fuck me,
very slowly, so as not to cause me any pain. The combination of him being
between my legs, and the rubbing on my erection from his stomach was
fantastic! I'd never tried it this way before and found it exciting, even
the fact that I'd produced semen not too long before not stopping me
becoming aroused again. It took a while longer for us both to achieve
fulfilment doing it as we were, but once the moment arrived, it was no less
satisfying for us both with me emptying what little remained in my sac
between us and Tom over the back of my thighs.

After being exercised twice within a few minutes, my body and brain were
now feeling tired and so I drifted off to sleep with the beautiful Tom
wrapped round me.

I slept late the following morning and didn't awake until Aldo came in with
a message from Federico that he wanted to see me if I was well
enough. First though, I embraced my friend and explained what had happen to
me on the way home. Naturally he was very concerned for my welfare until I
told him that Tom and Dom had taken good care of me: not forgetting to let
him know exactly what they'd done for me! I didn't inform him to make him
jealous or feel guilty in any way, but I knew that he would enjoy thanking
them, separately, in the only way he knew.

When I hobbled into Federico's office, he bade me sit down once he'd
expressed his good wishes. I could tell that he had something on his mind
because he kept twisting a piece of paper in his hand nervously. In the end
he handed it to me and asked that I should read it.

It was from Lorenzo: one of the boys must have gone to see him early in the
morning and told him what had happened. The letter hoped that I wasn't too
seriously hurt, and in particular that no damage had been done either to my
face or those other parts which were important to me; if I needed it, he
would gladly send for a doctor to attend me and also bear the cost.

What was of special interest to me was the last part in which he said that
he would send a carriage during the afternoon and if I was up to it, come
to visit him - and for no other reason other than to see for himself how I
was.

I looked at Federico questioningly, not knowing what to think.

"It seems you have a friend there," he said. "One who can't be denied."

As far as Federico was concerned, there was no question whether or not I
was fit enough to go: I had been sent for and therefore I would attend. In
fact I was more than willing to go and the little aches and pains I still
had were of no importance at all. I could sense that Federico wasn't very
happy with the invitation for reasons he didn't care to tell me, but a
request from Lorenzo de Medici simply wasn't ignored.

When the coach arrived, I was pleased to see that it was driven by the man
who knew me from previous times, and he helped me carefully into the
carriage, and for the first time spoke, regretting my injuries and hoping I
would recover soon.  Lorenzo too was very concerned and after undressing me
and checking carefully that the damage was indeed minimal, he seemed
happier.

"You have a very risky occupation," he said as he handed me a glass of
watered wine. "And we live in very dangerous times. No one is quite safe
these days."

We talked for ages about many things and I found myself perfectly at ease
in his company, despite the power and authority he and his family held in
the city. Most people I knew held him in high regard: the few that didn't,
I suspect, had been on the receiving end of his tongue, which could be
devastating when he so chose.

Glancing out of the window, I saw that dusk was falling and that Federico
would be expecting me home shortly. I grinned at Lorenzo and told him this,
adding that Federico would probably charge him for my visit and so far it
would be for half a day. If I remained any longer, he would be charged for
the night as well!

At this, Lorenzo stood up and paced the room for a while, thinking
deeply. Having obviously come to some sort of decision, he suddenly he
turned to face me and said, "Would you like to come and live here with me?"

I was truly struck dumb at hearing this, and for a few moments stared at
him in disbelief.

Gathering what few wits I had left, I managed to stumble, out, "What? As
your comfort..., err, ... Page Boy?"

"No," he said, now sitting down and taking my hand in his. "As my
companion.. It is unlikely that I will ever marry and have children of my
own; I think you know that. But I miss the companionship and having some
one to take care of, and I think we would fit well together."

There are no words I could find to express my feelings at that moment. I
knew that I cared for him very deeply, and he me, but living as his
companion? There was nothing I would like more, but could I do it? It
didn't take long for me to tell him that I would be very pleased to do as
he asked and hoped that I would prove satisfactory.

"I think you've misunderstood me," he grinned. "You would not be here as a
servant, but as a member of my family. Not as a blood relation of course,
but in all other respects you would be their equal."

I was so happy when I heard this, all pain was forgotten as I wrapped my
arms round his neck and kissed him. I knew, too, how unpopular my presence
would be to his family. It had taken a great deal of strength for Lorenzo
to ask this of me.

"I take it you agree, then!" he laughed as he put me down.

All I could do was nod, a grin reaching from one ear to the other.

"But when?" I asked excitedly. "Can it be soon?"

"From now, if you wish. I will send to Federico and inform him this
instant.."

And that was it. The note was duly sent and I became Lorenzo's
companion. Later that evening I was thinking over my good fortune when I
suddenly realised that I wouldn't be seeing any more of my friends at
Federico's. I would miss the twins, Michelangelo and most of all, Aldo. I
felt a desperate need to see them just once more to say my goodbyes
properly and wish them luck. I would like to see Federico too, but was a
little afraid of him and how he would react. He could be bad-tempered and
ill-mannered sometimes, especially when he was losing a boy like myself who
earned him a great deal of money. I expressed my thoughts to Lorenzo who
sympathised and promised to accompany me the following day to see Federico
and the boys. When he asked what possessions I owned and hd to collect, I
surprised myself by realising that I owned nothing. Even the clothes and
jewellery I wore belonged to Federico and the osteria: the only thing I
possessed was the purse with all my savings in it.

The visit went very much as I expected. There were a great many tears and
hugs from all the boys, especially Aldo. He was the one I would miss the
most and I found it hard to leave him, but felt better after we agreed to
see each other whenever we could and tell each other what was happening in
our lives. After a long, last, kiss, we broke apart. He chose to remain in
our chamber as I left as he didn't think he could bear to see me leave what
had been our very happy home for the last time.

I didn't get to speak with Federico, I only saw him for a brief moment as I
went out of the door. He looked sulky and bad tempered, but noticing the
purse of money in his hand, knew it wouldn't last long.

Back at Lorenzo's house we celebrated by going disrobing each other, going
straight to his sleeping chamber and climbing into bed together where we
remained until it was time for the evening meal.

After a week or so had passed, when I'd begun to settle down and feel
comfortable with Lorenzo, I reminded him of 'Como who I hadn't seen for a
very long time and needed to be told of my good fortune. After I'd
explained who he was and where he lived, Lorenzo agreed that I should pay
him a visit, and more than that, if I desired, invite him to visit us!
Just as soon as I could, I went in search of him and, true to form, he was
sat on the quayside alone, watching the shipping in the harbour. I shouted
at him from some way away and we ran to each other, embracing and kissing
when we met.

"Come," I said, once we'd calmed down, "I have some good news for you!"

Minutes later we were in his home, kissing properly this time, 'Como trying
to undress himself at the same time. I wasn't sure if I should do anything
with him now I had a new situation, but the sight of his naked torso soon
convinced me otherwise and within seconds we were naked and in his bed.

As we made gentle love together, I told him all the news about Lorenzo. He
seemed pleased for me, but was worried that we would no longer be able to
see each other. I soon put his mind at rest about this, telling him that I
was much freer with my time now and could come and go more or less as I
wished. To celebrate, and confirm our continuing love for each other, I
turned over on my back and happily lifted my legs.

'Como paid us a visit the following day, much to my delight, and I
introduced him to Lorenzo. I was more than pleased to see that they got on
well together and talked well. It was during a lull in the conversation
that Lorenzo asked 'Como if he were able to take up a position in our home
as a houseboy. This was a complete surprise to me as well as a very welcome
one. I could tell that Lorenzo liked 'Como, not only as a person and
servant, but also in the other way too. His muscular strength and undoubted
intelligence would stand him in good stead, as would his body from time to
time! I had no fears that he would usurp my position in the household, but
would provide welcome diversions for both of us when the need arose.

And so 'Como joined us, proving to be a valuable asset to the house and a
good friend as well.  He never took advantage of our friendship, partly
because he wasn't quite as keen on the sex as I am, and partly because he
had a proper home for the first time in his life. From time to time, both
Lorenzo and I used him as a 'Comfort Boy' when we were in the mood, but
never at the same time, much as I desired it.

All this happened a year or two ago, and our timing was fortunate
indeed. The fiery priest, Girolamo Savonarola, had become more and more
powerful over time and had a massive following, particularly from the
artisans and lower classes. As he rose in power within the church, he
banned more and more things which he thought were 'licentious and
lascivious', among which were the use of 'Comfort Boys' and Page Boys and
other displays of richness and wealth. Almost overnight places such as
Federico's were closed down and the boys thrown out onto the streets and
more often than not their masters arrested and imprisoned.  Fortunately,
Federico managed to escape Venice before he was caught and took many of the
boys with him. I was more than pleased to hear than the twins had been
taken in by a rich wine merchant and that Aldo had risen within the ranks
of Federico's establishment to replace Michelangelo who had become too old
for work, and had set up his own establishment in another part of the
country, with Federico's help I imagine.

The other thing of importance was that Savonarola disliked the de Medici
family, from top to bottom. Lorenzo, of course, was a particular target of
his not only because of his family, but also because of his ' proven
lewdness'. It was with a great deal of regret therefore that we moved our
complete household to Verona which was well outside of his jurisdiction.
Not all the de Medici family were so fortunate, many of Lorenzo's family
being murdered, hanged or burnt before they could escape.

It was a difficult and sad time for all of us, but now we are firmly
established in Verona, we are once again settling down to make a good and
happy home for ourselves and I've a feeling that once things are behind us,
everything will turn out well.


The End