An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 09

"Me neither! I have had sex with a couple of women, but only via the cunt."

"You enigmatic bugger! You never told me that you have shagged women!"

"Only because you never asked! But the main point is, that I didn't particularly enjoy it. I'm not keen on the smell of women. It's the usual story. Unless you are having sex with a woman who knows what to do and what men and women need from sex, you won't particularly enjoy it. At least with a man, you have a good idea about what turns men on, and it's much easier to see whether a guy is enjoying himself, and if he's not, he will soon tell you. Women won't talk about it, unless they are prostitutes, where their living depends on making men happy! Well, as I asked first, I want to be the first to do the fucking. My dick is bigger than yours, so I promise to be very gentle. But must we really wait six weeks?"

"Well, it would be nice to mark our cherry popping with a special meal without you having to do any cooking. I'm hopeless at cooking! But I want a go at being top as well, you know, so we need plenty of time."

Chapter Sixty-two: Christmas at Getheringthwaite

After a very enjoyable week or so, we left on the train for the north, to spend Christmas with Lord Wakefield. The Marquess had made it clear that now that he and Robert were out of the closet, he no longer wanted to spend Christmas away from his boyfriend. Accordingly, he had invited Dom and me to spend the festive season with him and Robert and Mrs Harrison, to see how things worked out, while the rest of the family were still trying to come to terms with the head of the family in bed with his chauffeur!

We boys were not alone. We were joined on Christmas Day by the vicar and his wife. It was an old tradition in the Ovenden family that the vicar of Getheringthwaite, whose appointment was in the gift of the Ovendens, should dine with the Marquess on Christmas Day after celebrating the Eucharist in the chapel at Getheringthwaite Hall. Although Lord Wakefield was not particularly religious, he was a great believer in family traditions, so the vicar presided in the chapel to a congregation of five plus his wife. We were very interested to see the place where we hoped to tie the knot in a few years' time. It was like a small version of a Camford college chapel with furnishings largely unchanged since the late seventeenth century, when extensive damage by Cromwell's soldiers had had to be made good. The Marquess at the time had had a taste for the baroque, so the chapel was much more colourful than was usual for English places of worship, and had rather shocked the Victorians with all its gilt and colour, but fortunately they had not made any changes.

Afterwards, all seven of us sat down to dinner in the state dining room, the only time of the year that it was used for a meal, except on big family occasions like weddings. We had been warned in advance that formal dress was required, and Dom had arranged for the hire of a dinner suit for me. He told me that I looked ravishingly beautiful in it, and it was clear that the two older men were also impressed by my appearance. It was the first time that I had ever dressed up for Christmas dinner. Dom hinted to me that the old man was already secretly planning the details for his grandson's future partnership ceremony. Robert had exchanged his chauffeur's uniform for a dinner jacket. Mrs Harrison had called in extra help in both kitchen and dining room for the Christmas holiday period. It was essential to have someone in the kitchen, because although she was in charge of cooking the meal, Lord Wakefield had asked her to join us to eat. It is not impossible to find people willing to work for a few hours on Christmas Day if they are paid enough!

At Lord Wakefield's request, the vicar said grace. The old lord eschewed new-fangled dishes like turkey, and we sat down to a delicious partridge and venison pie with seasonal vegetables, preceded by celery soup and followed by Christmas pudding, not a wide range of dishes, but quantity was exceeded by quality. I wished that my brother-in-law, Tom, could have been there. It was just his style of cookery. In deference to our tastes, three Italian wines were also available.

After the meal, coffee and cakes were served in the Portrait Gallery, where the party was able to inspect paintings of the Ovenden family going back to the first Marquess, who it was rumoured had got his title by sleeping with King James VI/I, a notoriously bisexual monarch. Lord Wakefield gleefully pointed to the picture of the sixth Marquess in the eighteenth century, who had never married, but had shared his bed with countless boys and young men, a scandal that took the family fifty years to outlive. He had had a preference not for men of gentle or noble birth, but for country lads and even soldiers. There were stories that by the time he was thirty-five, the Perverted Lord as he was known, had buggered every unmarried male in the village of Getheringthwaite and some of the married ones as well! A family story told how the artist had been obliged to finish off the painting rather hastily, as he was being propositioned by the Perverted Lord. Fortunately for old Lord Wakefield, the vicar was young and broad-minded, and not at all shocked by this story.

I was delighted to discover that gayness seemed to run in Dom's family! As a Christmas present, I had bought Dom a set of three silk shirts in attractive colours, each with a pair of matching underpants, by one of Italy's most fashionable designers. They had cost a lot of money, but I was prepared to go hungry if necessary to get a present good enough for my boy! Dom had bought me an iPhone to replace the one that had been stolen. "You might need to cut down your SIM card to make it fit," he said.

Late in the afternoon, just before it got dark, we two boys escorted the vicar and his wife back to the vicarage before walking vigorously back to the Hall in time to help Mrs Harrison and the hired girl load the dishwasher.

Boxing Day morning was spent watching the local hunt gather on the village green before we returned with Lord Wakefield and Robert to the house for a few lengths in the pool before a superb cold lunch served up with great panache by Mrs Harrison, after which all the men got down to serious drinking. We had been tempted to call in at the village pub after the meet, but decided that our appearance as a foursome might lead to gossip!

Chapter Sixty-three: The New Year

Three days later, Dom and I took the train northward to Loxton, where we were to spend New Year with Sandro's grandparents. We had a long wait between trains in York, and we left the station and I took Dom up on to the walls to view the city, which he had never visited before. I warned Dom that he could expect a third-degree grilling by Mr Scarborough, who took an almost obsessive interest in his family's personal relationships. He replied, "It can't be worse than what you had to undergo from my father!"

In fact, it was not a grilling at all. Mr Scarborough saw the two of us together, asked Dom a few questions about his family, which Dom answered carefully, not revealing his noble ancestry, and then shook hands and kissed each of us and said, "I've done this to my children and grandchildren so often that I now know true love when I see it! Just remember that you want to be together for life and treat each other with respect, and think of the damage you will do by being unfaithful." The Scarboroughs were delighted to see us. So many of their children and grandchildren lived abroad that they found the family home increasingly empty, and were seriously wondering about downsizing to a smaller house in the South. The number of double bedrooms available in their huge house had become excessive, because as their grandchildren grew up, there were no longer any occasions when three generations were in the house at once.

My grandparents were keen walkers, and the weather that January was mild and fairly dry, so the four of us walked about 10 km most days and talked a lot, so that by the time that I flew home for the last ten days before the Candlemas term began, we all felt that we knew one another quite well. As with Dom's grandfather, we found the wisdom of old age more congenial that our parents' advice. Dom spent the last week of the vac. back home at Paradise Place. I promised Dom that I would never tell anyone in Camford about where we had spent Christmas, as it would compromise his identity.

My parents and Bianca were glad to see me. It was my first ever Christmas away from home, and I realized how much warmer it was in Emilia-Romagna than in North Yorkshire! Fortunately, Luca and Tom had been there, so my parents had not been without guests over the festal period. The boys had also returned for New Year. My parents now seemed totally reconciled to my homosexuality. I asked them if they had told my grandparents. They said that they had not, that it was my job! I told them that I would take Dom to see them at Easter. "How's your new boyfriend?" asked my sister Bianca.

"He's fine. You can't believe what being in love is like. I miss him enormously when I'm away from him."

"He seemed very nice, but I'm not sure that I will like him as much as Tom. I wish Tom wasn't gay, I would like him for myself, but of course he's already spoken for! Your brother is a lucky boy to have Tom for a partner."

"You're much too young to think of serious relationships, cara mia, just concentrate on getting into a university! There'll be plenty of time for love when you get older."

Chapter Sixty-four: Sandro's final Candlemas term

In mid-February, the momentous weekend arrived. We made all our preparations in advance: I would see to the food, drink and domestic arrangements such as lots of clean towels and Dom would see to the sexual equipment, including porn DVDs. After breakfast on the Saturday morning, we hastily made our beds in college (the bedders did not come in at weekends, so no-one would note our one-night absence). We arrived in the flat in Fountain street about 9-30 am, just in time to accept delivery of a bouquet of expensive white roses, organized by Dom. "Oh Dom, they're beautiful, they've even got some scent" I said and sniffed them appreciatively. "Pity that imported flowers have such a short life," I said, "they'll be dead by Monday."

"And so will our anal virginity!" said Dom.

"Lunch will be delivered at 2 pm," I said, "and if we get undressed now, we have several hours to enjoy ourselves." We locked the door, and undressed hastily. We took it in turns to visit the bathroom for our morning shit. We had saved it till we got to the flat so as to make use of the bidet to get our lower regions thoroughly clean.

Both of us were semi-erect in anticipation. Dom had had a spending spree at the sex shop. He produced a neat plastic case, which on opening revealed a set of dildos in various sizes and colours and a leaflet bearing the words: Doctor Virtuoso's Compleat Dildo Kit: Product Care. "I thought that these might assist in stretching our anal sphincters," he said. "We can use them on each other after we've used lube and fingers and before we use our pricks. But always keep in mind, if anything goes wrong and we have to stop, we still love each other and there are many ways of expressing that besides buggery!"

The apartment was comfortably warm and neither our bodies nor our feet were cold. We went into our bedroom and made sure that everything we needed was within reach. Then Dom made me bend over the bed and he began to apply lube to my arse-crack and perineum. Then he pushed a lube-coated finger into my arsehole and through the sphincter. He wiggled it around without me feeling any discomfort before inserting two fingers and repeating the operation. He separated his fingers inside me so that the sphincter was stretched. It hurt a little, but not much. He then repeated the operation with three fingers and pushed them as far apart as he could and that did hurt. "I'll give you five minutes to adjust!" he said as he stopped stretching, but kept his fingers in place. Then he got a fairly narrow dildo, asking me whether I wanted a pink one or a black one. I said that I didn't give a fuck what colour it was. He pulled his fingers out of my hole and proceeded to push the dildo in. In spite of his gentleness and the resilience of the silicone rubber, it hurt like hell. I nearly screamed.

"Don't get excited, I'm not going to fuck you with it, I'm just going to leave it there for a few minutes to stretch you!" he said. "In the meantime, please will you suck my cock?" So there I stood, bent over the bed, with half the length of a black dildo up my arse! I turned through 90° and took my stud-boy's cock into my mouth. It began to stiffen as I licked and chewed it and I could feel it hardening all the time. "Keep hold of it in your hand while I apply lube," said Dom. I did as I was told. Then Dom rolled a condom rapidly on to his cock, and pulled out the dildo. He moved behind me and began gently to penetrate my arsehole with his tool. As he pushed, it hurt like hell again and this time I did scream. He stopped pushing, but did not remove his cock and I could feel this thick object lodged in my hole like a giant turd. With a defecatory reflex, I instinctively tried to push it out, but he gently pushed it a few centimetres further in. He stopped and my rectum gradually became accustomed to this solid object filling my gut. It began to give me a quite pleasant 'full' sensation.

Once he saw that I was no longer in pain, he began to fuck me slowly and gently, increasing the depth at each thrust. How long this went on, I have no idea, but after a few minutes, I started to enjoy it. Sometimes Dom's berubbered cock hit or brushed my prostate gland and sent a thrill of pleasure through the lower part of my body. He slowly quickened his pace, while at the same time gently rubbing my dick, which began to ooze precome copiously. I reached out, grabbed an unwrapped condom from the bedside and rolled it onto my cock. Dom worked his hand more vigorously on my manhood, while continuing to ram my arsehole. Suddenly my climax arrived and with shudder and a shout, I shot my load into the condom.

Dom left off playing with my dick and started to rub his hands over my chest. I could feel his sweet sweat dripping from his armpits onto my body. After a short time it was his turn to come, and with a jerk he unloaded his seed into the rubber in my rectum. He started kissing my back as his cock slowly became limp, and he withdrew it from my anus. He then lifted me onto the bed and collapsed exhausted beside me. We lay there for some minutes, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies with the condoms still enclosing our dicks. Then Dom reached for a tissue, pulled the condom off my cock, wiped the excess jism off it and knotted the condom before dropping it on the floor. He then did the same with his own condom and began to kiss my belly. His loving attention was delightful and I snuggled up to him and we dozed off into a semi-sleep for a few minutes.

As I resurfaced, I began to kiss Dom's sweaty chest, which still had a faint odour of Storing pour homme. "I love you, stud-boy! I think that I am going to enjoy being fucked, once my hole gets thoroughly used to that snake-stick between your legs. Thank you for so sweetly and gently popping my cherry! Would you like some coffee, my dear gut-fucker?"

"Yes, please, my sweet bum-boy!" I went into the kitchen, filled and switched on the coffee machine and in a few minutes returned with two large espresso coffees. "No drinking of coffee in bed!" I said, and put the cups on a table and pulled up two chairs. I watched Dom's dick bob up and down as he crossed the room and sat down beside me. I put my arm round him and began to kiss him, pausing occasionally to take a sip of coffee. "I love your beautiful hole!" he said, "You must teach me the Italian for that!"

"Mi piace tuo culo bello!" I told him. "Do you want it now, or shall we wait until after lunch?"

"Let's do it now! I'm sure that you want it."

"Actually, can we watch a bit of porn for half an hour, just to get me thoroughly randy? At the moment, I feel more loving than lustful. We've plenty of time." So Dom put on a porn movie called Rustic Lust, or Farm boys at Work in which two pairs of handsome actors undressed one another in a hay barn before having sex in several interesting positions.

Chapter Sixty-five: Dom's cherry is popped

After perhaps fifteen minutes of the movie, we were both exuding precome, and we muted the film and Dom bent over the bed. I knelt and began to kiss his beautiful arse. The curve of his rump felt wonderful as I ran my lips through the soft blond hair that covered each delicious cheek. I pushed my face into his cleft and began to rim him. After giving the walls a good licking I tried to push my tongue through his sphincter, but didn't really manage it. Having thoroughly wet his crack with my saliva, I started to anoint him with K-T gel. I faithfully followed the finger-stretching routine that he had used earlier. I then took a pink dildo and gently inserted it through the ring of his sphincter. He gave a yelp, but did not shrink. My dick was still oozing precome as I pulled out the dildo and entered his hole with my rubber-sheathed cock. He pulled a face, but then relaxed and began to smile. "Go at it, baby!" he said, "Fuck me silly!"

"I love you, stud-boy, I'm going to make you mine. Men used to swear brotherhood by exchanging blood. We're going to do it by exchanging spunk!" and I started gentle fucking movements. I bent as far forward over him as I could, so that a maximum area of our bodies was in contact and I could feel the warmth of his body and the throb of the blood coursing through his veins. We were as near as possible to bodily unity, as near one flesh as two men could be. I kept kissing the small of his back when my thrusting was at its deepest. I cupped his balls in my left hand and rubbed his dick with my right.

After what seemed only seconds of total bliss, but which in reality must have lasted about ten minutes, I came violently and shouted "My own Dom!" before pulling out of his hole and pulling him on top of me on the bed.

He began to rub his cock on my belly while smothering my face and neck with kisses. Again I could feel his sweat dripping on me before he muttered "I'm gonna come!" and squirted his man-juice over my belly and chest.

I put both my arms round him and held him tightly. "You've made me so happy, Dom" I said, "You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I want to be yours for ever, and I will do anything you want, including giving up a career if we decide to have babies! I feel a real man for the first time, now that I've fucked you, but if you want me to be a home-maker, I will do that."

"Sandro, Sandro, there's no need to go to extremes. We need to have careers and a life together before we consider babies. When we finally become partners, I want to commission a portrait of the two of us hand-in-hand for the Portrait Gallery at Getheringthwaite. And I don't want you to be a permanent bottom. I want you to feel able to fuck me whenever you want. I really enjoyed having your dick up my shithole!"

By now it was 12-30, and we were beginning to feel a bit hungry, although lunch would not arrive until 2 pm. I went to the kitchen cupboard and found two packets of potato crisps, and brought them into the bedroom, followed by a bottle of Prosecco and two glasses. We settled down on the sofa and resumed watching Rustic Lust, like a pair of slightly upmarket teenagers.

After another fifteen minutes of the film, we were ready to shag again and this time Dom laid me on my back with my legs on his shoulders and fucked me face-to-face. In many ways, this was much better than the doggy position, because we could kiss and see each other's face. There was no pain this time, just a little discomfort on first penetration. After the fuck, we cuddled up close in bed and resumed drinking the fizzy wine.