Date: Fri, 02 Apr 1999 08:45:15 +0900
From: Andrej Koymasky <andrejkoymasky@geocities.com>
Subject: Soul in Cellular 07

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

THE SOUL IN THE CELLULAR

by Andrej Koymasky (C) 1999
written the 3rd of February, 1995
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by MiMu

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

USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE SOUL IN THE CELLULAR" is a gay story, with some parts containing
graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion,
family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better
not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't
care, ore because you think yo really want to read it, please be my
welcomed guest.

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


7 - GUILLAUME

Eugenio became aware that he was starting to believe the voice. But he
wanted to put it at a test. For two days he didn't contact the voice but
read a history book, hoping he could catch the voice red handed. Then,
opening the cellular, he said:

"Hey, why don't you tell me who you were in 1787?"

"I am Guillaume de Brile, third son of the Marquis de Brile, and I'm
born in 1779. Therefore I am eight years old. This year, like the
following one, in France the harvest is disastrous, so there are also
difficulties in the provisioning. The price of wheat goes to the stars
and whereas my family, even if grumbling, can afford to buy it, several
poor people don't have the means to buy it, and so they suffer from
hunger. Expecially in Paris. In the States General it is chaos, the
Third Estate feels mocked by the nobility and the clergy and decides to
do the oath of Jeu de Paume. Little after Parisians revolt and attack
the Bastille. I am then ten years old..."

"So, you didn't personally live those moments..."

"No, sure, even because we were living in the country, far from Paris,
in a small castle bearing a countrymen village. But the news flys, at
home we talk about it. My father is worried and, notwithstanding
everybody says that this is just one of the many popular risings that
will soon die away, he feels that this time something more serious is
happening. So he decides to send us away from the castle, from France,
to the house of one of my mother's sisters, who lives in Belgium. We
leave with the carriage. We arrive at our aunt's castle and she welcomes
us, worrying for the news coming from France.

There is lot of tension in the air, and things seems to go from bad to
worse. In 1771 we hear that the king escapes from Paris, but he is
recognised, catched and brought back, prisoner of the revolutionaries.
Several aristocrats, who flew abroad, try to persuade the bordering
powers to declare war to the revolutionary France to free the king and
to give him back his power. So, the revolutionary France feels
threatened and declares war. On September 20th 1792 France defeats the
Austro-Prussians and the revolutionary army attacks Belgium, which
belongs to Prussia, so we have to flee again. While we are escaping, we
hear the news that the king of France has been murdered..."

"You are fourteen when the king is guillotined, right?"

"Not yet, my birthday is some months later. We escape to the other side
of the Rhine, to Hamburg where our aunt has some German relatives,
amongst them the Count von Tiemann. Here I meet Dieter: he is the second
son of the Count, an eighteen year old boy. He perfectly speaks French,
English, Danish, besides of course German. He is very elegant,
courteous, cultured. At the beginning, a little because of my shyness, a
little for my condition of poor relative, really relative of relatives,
I don't tie up with him. But anyway, neither with other people.

Dieter treats me kindly and seems to be interested in me, he asks me to
go to ride with him, he trains me in fencing, he likes to talk with
me... so, little by little, I start to open up with him and seek for his
company. Dieter reveals himself being also likeable and witty. He
introduces me to his friends like his French cousin and this pleases me:
it makes me feel a real, accepted member of his family.

When the good season comes, he takes me to do long rowing in his park
lake and we joyfully chat of this and that. Little by little a sense of
real friendship sets up between us; even if he is four years older than
me he doesn't make me feel that. One evening he proposes me to go with
the boat on the lake to see the full moon rising. He assures me that
seeing it being in the water is an unforgettable scene. I willingly
accept and go.

When we are at the center of the lake, he puts the oars in the boat,
spreads a soft blanket on the bottom and we lay, the one at the side of
the other, our heads leaning on the padded seat. I like feeling the
faint warmth of his body at my side. He seats himself better and puts
his arm around my shoulders. Then I lay my head on his chest. We talk of
this and that. He caresses my hair. I feel really great and tell him. He
gives me a light kiss on my forehead.

He looks at me, I smile at him. He gives me another kiss, between my
eyes, gentle, light. Feeling affection, warmth, friendship in that kiss,
I whisper him a thank you. He smiles to me and caresses my cheek, and
tells me that he likes me. I answer that I too like him and that I feel
really great near him. He caresses my chest through my shirt. I quiver
and curl up against him. He kisses me again, but this time on my lips,
always light, and his hand roams on my trunk, from my chest to my belly,
gentle and warm. Little by little, without even realizing it, I become
aroused. He continues to caress me and holds me tight against him. He
kisses me again on the lips, but this time he lingers there longer and
brushes his lips on mine.

I shudder, I like very much what he is making me feel. I caress his
back, the nape of his neck. He barely turns, pulls me closer against him
and I feel his erection pushing against my side and his tongue creeping
between my lips. I part my teet and accept his tongue, breathless - I
suddenly understands where he is driving me, and I feel ready to follow
him! His hand lowers between my legs, feels me and his tongue plays with
mine inside my mouth. His hand opens the buttons of my silk breeches,
slips under the cloth, reaches again my erection and caresses it,
pushes, massages it. I sigh and quiver closing my eyes, and feel great
warmth all over my body. I understand that Dieter wants me, and I feel
ready to become his.

He drives my hand between his legs and I notice that, I don't know how
or when, he did open his breeches. Under my hand I feel his naked hard
on. It is like a shock for me, but very pleasurable. I like that first,
intimate contact with his naked member, and I feel deeply moved. I
squeeze, caress, feel it with an incredible pleasure. He, with a
slightly hoarse voice, tells me that he likes me very much and asks me
if I want to make love with him. I answer yes, deeply moved, but I
whisper to him that he has to teach me everything, because for me it is
the first time. He kisses me, caresses me and says that, if it is my
first time, he wants it to be splendid. He doesn't push further what we
are doing. We just continue to touch, caress, kiss each other, and we
wait for the moon to rise. Never the moon seemed more beautiful to me
than tonight, in this sweet intimacy full of reciprocal desire. Then,
having put our clothes in order again, he takes me back to the landing
place.

He ties the boat, then embraces and kisses me again, and whispers to me
that tonight he will come in my room and he will make love with me. I
nod yes, quivering and happy. We go back to the castle. His elder
brother is playing  violin. We listen to him for a while, then we chat a
little, and at the end we bid each other good night. I go upstairs in my
room, undress, and slip under the bed sheet in quivering await. I hear
my room door open and with the light of the moon that floods my room, I
see him coming to my bed. He asks me in a whisper if I'm asleep. I smile
happily at him and whisper that I was waiting for him.

Dieter comes in my bed and embraces me. He pulls off my long sleeping
shirt, pulls off his own, and I feel his naked body joining mine, full
of desire. He caresses and kisses me for a long while. Little by little
he brings me to stop thinking, he makes me so excited. I feel that he
wants me, and I too want him inside me, and finally he makes my legs
rest on his shoulders, and spreads something fresh on my waiting little
hole. His fingers massage me there, he is preparing me, and meanwhile he
kisses me and tells me how much he desires me. I feel completely relaxed
and ready. I want him, so I ask him to take me now, not to wait anymore.
He asks me if I'm really sure I want him to enter inside me. I tell him
yes, with a mixture of desire, enthusiasm and fluttering happiness. And
at last he leans against me, and takes my virginity, penetrating me with
tender passion.

I feel it pushing on my throbbing flesh rosette, and I open to it, eager
to finally have him inside me. I feel him stretching my hole little by
little, and I really like the sensation. I feel it sliding inside me,
strong, resolute and yet delicate, and his face depicts an intense and
pleased expression. I feel he is taking me to paradise, it is the most
involving experience of all my life. I feel I belong to him, I feel he
belongs to me, I am one with him. I murmur him that I love him. He says
nothing, smiles and continues to settle into me, gently caressing me.

Finally I feel the curly and soft hairs of his groin tickling my spread
little buttocks. He is completely immerged in me. I smile at him, he
smiles at me and asks me if it is all right. I am so moved that I'm not
able to raise my voice, so I just nod yes. Then Dieter starts to move in
and out with vigorous calm, and I incredibly like feeling it moving
inside me. He brushes my nipples, while he continues to take me, and I
like this too, so I reciprocate. He smiles and asks me if I'm enjoying
it. I vigorously nod yes again. By instinct, to feel him better, I push
my ass against his groin each time he sinks back into me, and this seems
to increase his pleasure. My pleasure is reaching unknown peaks.
Suddenly, it is like inside me all was upset, all my muscles tense, and
moaning, I unload between our bellies. It is like a signal to him, who
holds me stronger and at his turn empties inside me all of his male
liqueur. God, how beautiful his face is while he is enjoying inside me!

Later, while we lie intertwined, he whispers to me that he believes he
is in love with me, and that to him I am the most important thing in all
his life, and that he never felt something such intense with anybody...
and I am happy. I let him cuddle me, I caress him, thinking that nothing
more beautiful than that could happen to me. We kiss, and say each other
many sweet things. But then he has to leave me, to go back to his room.
He kisses me a last time, deeply, and leaves. I fall asleep, happy,
trying to catch his good, male smell in my cushion...

A wonderful period begins, where he surrounds me with care and
gentleness. My mother can't understand what could have provoked such a
change in me - she suddenly sees me happy, joyful - and she is glad.
Dieter and I continue to make love with unchanged passion, night after
night, month after month, for almost one year. For me the best moment of
the day is when I can be between his arms, his legs, under his handsome
body, and Dieter takes me with that mixture of greedy desire and
tenderness. At times, when we are completely sure not to be seen, we
also stay just embraced, lying togeter, to rise, and to enjoy, quivers
the one in the other.

In 1794, the French Convention resumes its military actions against the
Coalition, and Dieter has to leave for the front. I would like to go to
fight with him, but I am still too young, and cannot. He tells me that
he will be back soon, and to wait for him. He asks me to promise that I
will be faithful to him, that I will not look for another lover in his
absence. I swear with all my heart, I feel that I can be only his. But
unhappily Dieter doesn't come back: he gloriously falls on the battle
field. For me this is a real shock. I feel the whole world crumbling. As
much as his love made me happy, as much I feel now in despair. I close
in myself. The only thing that has an interest for me now, is to reach
the age when I too can go to fight against the revolutionary, to revenge
my Dieter, my king, and my father of which we have no more news and we
are afraid he did fall under the revolution's strokes too. Therefore I
constantly train myself in the use of weapons.

Finally I can enrol in the army, but just then the Prussians sign the
peace treaty with the French. Angry and disappointed, I then decide to
go to Austria to fight with them against the French. Deaf to my mother's
prayers, I go to enroll in the Austrian army. But now, at the head of
the French army there is a young general, a certain Bonaparte, who
unhappily defeats also the Austrians and with the peace of Campoformio,
France obtains Belgium and part of the German region East of the Rhine.

Disappointed, I leave also the Austrians. I am now eighteen. England has
not yet signed the peace with France, therefore I decide to go to
England. But the English army is conservative and unhappily doesn't
accept foreigners in his rangs. So, I just join the small community of
French exiles and of their English friends, mainly young people of the
local aristocracy.

I am twenty three when I meet Lord Attlee's son, the young David who is
eighteen. The beginning of our acquaintance comes from the fact that I
am called at Attlee Mansion to teach French to the young Lord. He is a
quick witted, likeable boy, and he yet has a smattering of French. He
applies himself in the studies with diligence and makes fast
improvement. His father is happy with my work, therefore, when they go
to Bath for the summer holidays, I am invited to their villa.

Together with David, we do long rides in the vicinity and he illustrates
me these places' history. He says that Bath is so called because the
Romans already built there some spa. He says that the ancient Romans did
bathe completely naked, and that they weren't ashamed of their
nakedness. So I say that it seems to me that ancient Romans were more
civilized than us. He smiles, nods in assent, then with a casual air
says that Romans didn't either have problems with making love between
men, in fact several emperors had publicly a man as lover.

While he tells me this, he looks straight in my eyes. I repeat, smiling,
that they really were a civilized people. He then holds out his hand and
puts it on my leg and asks me if I would have liked to be an ancient
Roman. I answer that, with him near me, I would have been more than
happy. He now caresses my leg. I put my hand on his and lightly squeeze.
Our fingers intertwine. I pull him to me and kiss him. He reciprocates
my kiss with passion and tells me that he strongly desired me since the
very first moment he met me.

To be sincere, I didn't. After my Dieter's death I didn't have a sexual
life anymore. But now, suddenly, I feel I desire him, strongly. He leans
against me for a moment, then parts from me and whispers that in here we
could be seen. He tells me to follow him. We go in the villa park, and
he takes me to the gazebo[? what's that, a summer house or garden
shed?]. We enter it, lock the doors, and he comes into my arms. Quite
frenetically we undress, I pull him next to me on one of the dormeuses,
I kiss him, our bodies brush against each other, his hands lower to feel
my virile erection and, excitedly, he begs me to take him.

I am taken a little unawares, because I am on the point to ask him the
same thing, but David insists, folds his legs on his chest and offers
himself to me. That silent offering gesture is incredibly exciting, so I
feel I want to try. I put the tip of my member on his throbbing hole and
push. He receives me with a long pleasure whining, I take him and what I
feel is really wonderful. I slide all inside him without difficulty, and
I start to move back and forward. He incites me to do it faster,
stronger... He moves under me, whining with happiness, whispering my
name as in a passionate litany. I'm terribly excited.

His radiant smile conquers me, the passion with which he gives himself
to me subjugates me, the pleasure that he gives me inflames me. Making
love with him annihilates in one stroke the years of sadness that
weighed on me like a leaden cloak. The mirth with which the handsome
David welcomes me into himself makes me really happy.

Later on we very often meet to make love. Each of our lessons begins
with a long love making, and only after that we apply to the studies.
David is incredibly sensual and, even if younger than me, is able to
make love in a sublime way. He is able to take me to incredible pleasure
peaks, then he offers himself to me, joyfully. When I'm too near to my
orgasm, he makes me slow down or stop, because he wants to enjoy me
inside him the longest time possible. In the pauses, he lightly bits my
nipples, he licks me, he kisses me all over, keeping well awake my
excitation, then asks me to take him again...

This is one of the most beautiful memories of our fantastic unions... It
is summer, we are riding along the shore. The long stretch of beach is
deserted, so we undress completely and dive into the water. We swim, and
play in the water, splashing each other with water like two carefree
school boys, but soon we both are aroused and full of mutual desire. I
embrace and kiss him, and say that I want him. He then invites me to
ride the horse. I don't understand, so he explains to me: we will both,
naked as we are, mount the same horse, possibly mine which is stronger,
and, while we ride, I will take him... The idea amuses and arouses me.

We mount, he sitting in front of me and holding the reins. He starts
riding and his delicious little ass brushes against my strong erection.
I hold him at his waist and make him move so that, little by little, my
steel-hard rod finds the way to his warm and tender little ass and
enters him. When I slide completely in, he pushes the horse to a jog
trot, then to a fast trot. Even if we don't move, the rhythm of the
horse rump makes me taking him with sound and pleasurable strokes. I
lick and lightly bite his back, caress his chest and belly, feel and
finger with increasing pleasure his turgid genitals. It is beautiful
staying in that way, free in the nature, the evening air caressing our
naked bodies, with him between my arms, pushing against me to better
enjoy this double ride.

When he feels that we are both nearing orgasm, he turns the trot into a
strong gallop. His pelvis jolts on my lap with vigour, so that I am now
taking him with strong strokes, which send us both to paradise. And
when, with a loud, chocked moaning I pull him to me and reach orgasm in
him, he restrains the horse, stopping it, and lets himself go against
me, panting and satisfied. He too reached his orgasm together with me.
He throws back his head and we deeply kiss, my member still throbbing
deep inside him. He asks me if I liked it. I answer him that it has been
the most beautiful ride of all my life. He smiles and nods. We kiss
again.

Yes, I feel really happy, and even more than happy when he tells me he
is in love with me. I am now able to answer him, in full sincerity, that
I too am in love with him. And our love seems to grow every day. I am
again serene, or rather, fully happy.

When in 1802 also England signs the peace with Napoleon, it is a new big
disappointment for me, but I remain in England, because now I have
David. Anyway, the following year the war between France and England
bursts out again. Therefore David has to embark to participate in the
sea war against Napoleon. Fortunately for me, my lover comes back safe
and sound, after a clash has neither winners nor losers.

In 1804 Napoleon has the Pope crown him Emperor. England is still at war
with France, but all is limited to a few, scarce clashes on sea. England
in reality is not interested at all in France, neither in revenging his
assassinated king. The only aim she has is to be able to sail safely on
the seas she always dominated.

In 1805 I am twenty six years old and David twenty two. His father
decides to send him to the "Grand Tour" as it still is in fashion for
the young men of the European aristocracy, and he decides to send him on
a journey to Russia. David wants me to accompany him, and I immediately
accept and am happy, both because I can remain near my lover and for the
perspective of the journey. On the ship we can get two neighbouring
cabins, with a communicating door, so that we will be able to make love
when and how we like, which is quite often.

The journey has just started, we are off Belgium, when our ship meets a
terrible storm. For a while the ship succeeds in steering, but then the
sails are teared, the rudder crashes, the mainmast collapses. The ship
drifts and we are shipwrecked on the Belgian coast. Several of us are
able to reach the shore swimming. David is always near me. We are worn
out. We are rescued. But, while David can recover quite fast, I, after
an apparent improvement, get a strong fever and, after an agony of
almost one month, I die."

"You often die young." Eugenio said.

"It happened to me to also live for a long time. Anyway, remember that
the average life span was not the same as nowaday. The average in this
period is still just thirty five, forty years. Therefore, having lived
to my twenty sixth year, could be like now living the double."

"Anyway, I hope not to die at fifty two..." Eugenio said laughing.

"Any moment is good." the voice said.

"It's easy for you to talk so, you are immortal! For me it is
different." Eugenio protested.

"Ha, but then you believe me, now." the voice calmly said.

"Well... I don't know... possibly..."

"I bet that if God in person appeared to you, you would be the type who
runs immediately to be seen by a psychiatrist..." the voice said
ironically.

"I think so." Eugenio answered laughing. Then he asked: "About that, did
you ever had, in your lives, some visions? Apparitions? Something that
you were, and are not able to explain?"


*******************

GILLES

"Yes, just once. I am Gilles, born in Tournai in 1327 and I'm son of a
dyer. I grow up well, quiet, in a household without economic problems.
When I am thirteen, one of my father's apprentices teaches me how to
masturbate. Children's games, nothing more. But when he stops doing it
with me, I miss the pleasure to have somebody's erected member in my
hand, to be touched there by somebody's hands. So I start to look around
to find somebody I can teach that fine game. Until I am fifteen I do it
with several other boys, but all of them, after a first enthusiasm, soon
start to be interested in girls and don't want to do it with me any
more.

I am absolutely not interested in girls. One day I try it with a boy
older than me. He tells me to stop trying those things, and that doing
them is a mortal sin. I never thought about that. I am quite stricken by
that idea. I am a good Christian, those games between boys were done in
secret, sure, but just because adult people never understand what boys
like. And anyway nobody talks about these activities, not even the
adults that, of course, do them. But I thought it was just a secret, not
a mortal sin!

So I go to confession, and the priest confirms the words of that boy. I
enter a crisis. Sure, I don't want to do mortal sins. Sure I repent.
Sure I will never do it again. No, not even by myself. He absolves me.
But it's easer said than done. Desire is strong, it gets stronger
everyday. A fight against myself begins in me, against my desire. Until
a boy, younger than me, Jean, tries it with me, and I surrender and like
it a lot. Even because the boy gives me head - I never tried that before
and it is wonderful... I like feeling his sweet lips on my little hard
rod, his tongue whirling on the burning tip of my quivering tool, and I
like the merry smile he shows while dedicating himself to my pleasure.
Yes, I like it very much. And I feel an incredibly strong pleasure when
he greedily swallows all my seed in great sips, continuing to lick my
hypersensitive rod's tip...

When I go to confession again, the priest threatens me with the torments
of hell, the eternal fire if I don't mend my ways. The struggle inside
myself starts again, but Jean gets round to me and manages to have me
surrender to him, and not just once. I feel a growing pleasure having
the young, greedy boy sucking me. I feel like becoming mad, like if in
me there are two opposed persons, one good and one evil, one a saint and
one the son of the devil... I pray, I intensely pray, but each time Jean
entices me, I surrender to him.

One day Jean, after having fully aroused me with his sweet mouth, offers
himself to me and persuades me to penetrate him. I do it, and at once I
feel it is such a sublime thing that, for the first time, I ask myself
how such a wonderful thing could be a sin. It is so great being sheathed
in his tight and hot channel, moving up and down inside him, and hearing
him whining with joy. It is so beautiful feeling under me his gentle and
tender body moving, and moaning for the pleasure he gets in giving me
pleasure... It is so wonderful flooding his hot and throbbing channel
with my seed, and thereafter, while relaxing satisfied, to be embraced
and caressed by Jean, who, between a kiss and another, thanks me to have
made him so happy...

But the religious convictions are strong. I confess again, I again
fight, I resist to Jean, even if it is really difficult. I succeed in
making him give up. Jean is wounded, disappointed by me, and this gives
me pain. But then the boy finds another lover, and this makes me
jealous... And in reality desire seems to strengthen in me. Sometimes I
feel like going to look for Jean again. Sometimes I look at my friends
with badly hidden lust. Sometimes I furiously jack myself off... to go
then again to confession. The priest terrorizes me. I feel lost. This
situation continues for months and months.

I am seventeen when the priest, to whom I tell all my pain, decides to
do an exorcism on me to send away the devil that evidently took
possession of me. But absolutely nothing happens. So, the priest orders
me to pass all night in church, prostrated on the floor in front of the
big crucifix, amongst four lit candles, and to uninterruptedly pray for
mercy. He takes me to church and closes the doors with his keys.

It is at dead of night. The church is silent and just the candles in
front of the Holy Virgin with Child's statue and the four around me are
lit. I pray, cry, invoke the Virgin, Christ, all the Saints to help
me...

At a certain point I see a great light, incredibly strong, emanating
from the statue and it seems quite as if the Virgin is smiling at me.
Then also the statue disappears and just the blazing light remains. I
stand up, approach that light like I am in trance, attracted, and the
more I approach, the more I feel healed of all my pain. Then suddenly,
it is as if in the light a diaphanous image I cannot clearly distinguish
materializes. Is it an angel? The same Virgin? A saint? I don't know, I
can't understand.

Then I hear a voice that tells me to stop worrying. My life will be
short, I will die in exactly four years, but they will be four years
full of happiness, because I'm about to meet the right person, and that
this person is waiting for me right now, just in front of the church.
The voice tells me to go, to entrust me to that person, to be faithful
and in love. Then the voice says also that, when I will die, heaven is
waiting for me. The great church door, which was locked, is now wide
open even if nobody came to unlock it, and anyway just the parson has
its keys. I go out, the night is clear. I look around.

Under the old stone cross, on its stairs, somebody is sitting. I draw
nearer. It is a young man, so beautiful! He has the attire of a pilgrim.
He smiles at me, I smile at him, hesitantly. He tells me that he was
waiting for me, asks me if I want to go with him. I say yes. I turn
towards the church, the light has disappeared, the great door is again
locked. He stands up, takes me by my hand and brings me out of town. He
leads me to a hay loft, takes a candle from a corner and lights it with
a flint stone. He smiles at me, asks me to undress and he too undresses
- he really is a splendid man. He lies on his mantle that he has spread
on the hay and invites me to join him. He invites me to make love with
him.

I lie near him. He embraces me and I feel excited and moved. He kisses
me in my mouth, it is a wonderful kiss, long, full of passion. Then he
lowers, to kiss, lick, suckle all over my body, he lingers on my turgid
nipples, and I feel like dying for the pleasure. He reaches my genitals
and, having him turned upside down, I have his perfect genitals in front
of my eyes, so that, at the same time with him, I part my lips and take
his beautiful tool into my mouth. Thus we are united in a circle of
pleasure and joy, and inside me I feel that what we are doing is
beautiful, right and holy.

We make love, we unite, I am his and he is mine, and it is sweet and
good. When he takes me, he makes me lie on my back, comes close to me
and penetrates me. While he moves, he holds me between his arms and
kisses me. I feel him slipping in and out and the pleasure is immense, a
pleasure not just physical. I feel I belong to him, I feel that between
his arms and legs I've found my place in the world. While he moves
inside me, he caresses, smiles, kisses me and whispers sweet words to
me. I feel in paradise. Then he gives himself to me, and I'm not able to
say if I like best being taken by him or to take him. I would say that
there is no difference, I love welcoming him inside me, I love how he
receives me inside him.

I feel I am deeply in love with him and I am about telling him so, when
he tells me, right at that moment, that he knows I am in love with him,
that he is in love with me, that if I follow him I will be happy till
the end of my days and even more. I swear to him that I will be always
and only his. We fall asleep, intertwined. I feel happy, there is no
more place for remorse in me - he is the man who has been sent to me,
with whom I will be happy for four years.

At dawn we leave. We merrily walk, side by side. We beg from village to
village, from town to town, from city to city and always people give us
food, right for that day. At evening we always find a shelter, a place
where to sleep and to make love. And during the day we talk about a
thousand and one subjects, I never get tired of listening to him. In
winter we find every day somebody who hosts us in a warm place, and
always the accommodation is such that we can unworriedly make love. Not
one day passes without us making love at least once, in complete
tranquillity, fully enjoying each other's body in cheerful and vigorous
tenderness. His body is so beautiful that it moves me just to look at
it, his genitals are so perfect that I would like him not to be forced
to cover them with his clothes. I adore being his, I adore making him
mine.

It is like a dream. We own or carry nothing, and yet we miss nothing.
Just to give you an idea about our living, I'll tell you three of many
extraordinary events.

One day his sandals break down in a way that it is impossible to repair
them. He laughs, throws them in a ditch, and resumes the way, barefoot.
Just in that moment a man riding a horse passes at full speed. When he
passes us, something falls down from his saddlebag, landing right in
front of us. I pick it up, it is a bag. I open it, it contains a pair of
new sandals, exactly fitting the feet of my lover. So he quietly wears
them and we resume our way.

In a similar way, another day while we are playing and bucking in a
field like two kids, my breeches, worn and old, tear badly. They now
barely cover my genitals. I feel a little shy to go around in that
condition. We pass in front of a house and a woman comes out with a
frowned face, a pair of new breeches in her hands. She sees us and opens
up in a kind smile. She tells us that she has sewed these breeches for
her youngest son but that, having made a mistake when she cut the cloth,
the breeches are too small. Then she looks at me and says that they
could fit me, so she gives them to me. They fit me perfectly, almost as
if she took my measurements.

But the most interesting event happens one day when we are at the square
of a village on a market day. I suddenly feel terribly aroused, so I
whisper to him that I want to make love with him. He smiles, takes my
hand and drives me to a heap of hay which is in one corner of the
square. He says that we can make love there. I look around, there are
many people and the heap is in full view... At that moment the church
bell rings out, and everybody goes inside the church. We remain alone.
He pulls me on the hay, undresses me, I undress him, and we start to
make love, in full day light, in the now deserted square. I feel, know
that we have nothing to worry. In fact I take him with calm, I enjoy
him, he takes me and enjoys me, we continue making love until both of us
are fully satisfied. We quietly relax, kissing each other. Then we stand
up and dress again. And from the church the people come out, resuming
their activities...

I could tell you dozens of these extraordinary facts.

We wander without a goal, going where the wind takes us, as he says. I
love him intensely and feel filled with his love. In spring we plait
flowers garlands for each other,  in summer we bathe in the rivers, in
autumn we search and eat blackberries and blueberries, in winter we play
with the snow, and we enjoy each other day after day. Nothing upsets us,
never, not even for an instant. Making love with him happens so
spontaneously, be it day time or night time, in the open or in a room,
and never ever anybody comes to disturb our sessions of passionate
union.

1347 comes, the pestilence rages in all of Europe, ravages France. At
the beginning we help to bury the dead, but then they are too many, and
it is necessary to burn them. We continue to wander. Even in these
terrible days we miss nothing, and our love continues to bloom. I know
that I don't have so much longer to live, the four years are elapsing,
but near him, I'm not afraid.

In fact in 1348 the plague takes me: it is pulmonary plague. He assists
me, doesn't leave me alone for a moment. He tells me not to worry, that
I will pass away in my sleep, without pain. In fact it happens this way.
One evening, after kissing me, he sweetly whispers to me to close my
eyes, because the time has come we must part. I nod, smile to him, close
my eyes... and I gently part from my thinned and strengthless body. I
see him bent down to me, smiling and caressing me, then a great light,
like the night in the church, then nothing. I am again a soul without a
body..."

"But he, was he real, concrete, a true man..." Eugenio asked with a
disconcerted tone.

"So real to make love with him for four exact years. So concrete to feel
him inside me and to enter him. Such a true man that he felt the need to
eat and to evacuate... No, it is not a dream, I assure you. It has not
at all been a dream."

"But... and the vision?"

"That also, was not a dream. In fact he was there, waiting for me. He
came for me. When I asked him how it came that he was there outside the
church in the middle of the night, he simply told me that he arrived
there in his wanderings, and that he felt the need to sit there, under
the stone cross. And that, when he saw me, he clearly felt I was the
person he was waiting for ever since, he had hoped to meet one day, and
that's why he abandoned one day his carpenter's work and started to
roam, looking for me."

"It seems incredible..."

"I can't understand you. All seemed normal to you when I was forced to
prostitute myself, or when I was raped? Life is made of hard things but
also of sweet things, of dreary things and of magic... You cannot accept
just one part of it."

"But, perhaps, all the four years before your death were just the fruit
of a hallucination provoked by the plague... and that superimposed on
the real four years of your life..."

"No, I exclude that in a more absolute way. I could have had a
hallucination as a body, but once my body was dead, I would have
recognized it. I know, because I had hallucinations in other lives. But
when I am a soul again, detached from my body, I can review at once,
quite like they are superimposed, the hallucination and the reality
surrounding that body in that moment, and as a soul I can clearly
distinguish them. Nothing of all that in the life of Gilles. You must
believe me."

"I don't know... this last story left me rather perplexed. Beautiful,
but so unlikely!"

"Why do the beautiful things seem unlikely? That's quite like you see a
wonderful flower, and you say it seems artificial, but then you see an
artificial flower which is very beautiful, and you say it seems a real
one... All that is beautiful has not to be believed, then? Man is a
really funny animal."

"If you are a human soul, you too are part of man's errors."

"But at least I, afterwards, have an objective view of things. As a man,
on the contrary, I have only, and just, a subjective view, even when one
says it is objective. I think it is the fault of the senses: you believe
too much in what you think you see, hear. It is the brain that cheats on
you, because it interprets. I, at least in this phase, don't interpret,
I know. Little, but I know..."

"Don't you think you conceited yourself?"

"It is not possible, for me, being so."

"Nobody in the world is humble like me... the haughty said!" Eugenio
sneered. Then he asked: "Okay, but you, now, how do you explain those...
miracles, visions..."

"I don't explain them, I don't know how and why they happened. Simply,
we yet know too little to be able to explain everything. Like telepathy,
for instance. There are things that man has in himself but he doesn't
yet understand, know, and then he labels those things as miracles,
magic, chance, fate, destiny... or he denies them! It seems that it is
so difficult for men to just say: I don't understand, I have not enough
knowledge, elements to understand..."

"So, you believe in miracles."

"Call them so, if you want. I simply think that things we are not yet
able to explain, happen. My idea, but I am not sure, is that some kind
of talents are yet sleeping inside men's body, and they sometimes, for
certain people, on some occasions, arise for a moment."

"I see. And, tell me, I noticed that in all your story you never called
him by his name. What was his name?"

"I don't know, I never asked him."

"You never asked him!?" Eugenio unbelieving said.

"I never needed to call him. When I was thinking I wanted to have him
near, or I wanted to talk with him, he was there looking at me, ready
for me..."

"Come on! At least when you were making love, didn't you feel the need
to murmur his name?"

"Sure... 'Love' is how I called him..."

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CONTINUES IN PART 8

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

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

If you want to send me feedback, my e-mail is

andrejkoymasky@geocities.com

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