Eleanor Meets Tommy and Martin Pt. 01

"I'm afraid that there is only one bathroom in the villa, although there are three toilets," said Martin, as senior host. "So you won't have to share a stinky toilet with us, only the bathroom itself." This was a relief to me. At least I would not have to put up a permanently raised toilet seat! "We hope that you will join us in the pool," he continued, "but please tell us in advance so that we can wear swimming trunks. Normally if there's just the two of us, we swim naked. We don't mind if you see us naked, but you might prefer not to!"

I was really nonplussed by this comment. Did I want to see these boys' cocks? On the whole, I thought not. Better only to see one if it was about to be used on me, otherwise not! So I made no reply, and none seemed to be expected. To have said yes would seem to have been inviting them to use it! The rest of their bodies I would no doubt see in due course.

The boys gave me a very pleasant time. Some nights Martin and I cooked, and the three of us used to make visits to the village shops and market to buy supplies. We needed Tommy to translate, otherwise it would have been much simpler for the two us to go. The produce that we bought was perhaps slightly expensive, but was always of superb quality and freshness. On days when we went out, we ate at the trattoria. We visited several archaeological sites, because of Martin's interest in the Etruscans, we saw all the interesting sites in Arezzo, especially the cathedral, we had a day in Florence, having prebooked to get into the Uffizi Gallery, and we visited Assisi and trod in the footsteps of Saint Francis.

One day we decided to rest and read. In the afternoon, the boys went into the pool, while I sat and read. Since I was not in the water with them, the boys swam naked, and I looked at them from time to time from my seat on the patio. They really were a beautiful pair, living examples of beautiful Greek male statuary. After half an hour they came out of the water. Both had erections. They hastily wrapped themselves in towels and told me that they were going to bed for an hour, and not to

disturb them! Even with the towels, it was clear that they both had big dicks.

It was perhaps very deceitful of me, but I very much wanted to see what they got up to. Maybe they were over-trustful, because the balconies of our two bedrooms interconnected, and they had neglected to draw the curtains. I had soft-soled sandals on my feet and I crept silently along the balcony and peeping in from the side, I could see clearly into their room. I felt like Fanny Hill in John Cleland's novel when she stood on a chair at an inn to watch through a crack in the wall two young men in the adjacent bedroom fucking. But unlike Fanny, I was not filled with fury and condemnation at two men engaged in the vile act of buggery (not that Cleland would ever have used such a vulgar word in his stories!), I was just curious. They had thrown off the bedclothes, and Tommy was kneeling on the bed on his hands and knees, and I was just in time to see Martin roll a condom onto his dick. He then took a tube of lubricant gel from beside the bed and used three fingers to poke it into Tommy's anus and around in the surrounding arse-crack (which Tommy was obligingly holding open with both hands). Martin then climbed onto the bed and pushed his hard fuck-stick deeply into Tommy's hole, and got to work vigorously. I had a good view of both their arses. There is something about the male posterior that is extremely attractive to women, especially if it is smooth and relatively hairless. Tommy's was actually much hairier than Martin's.

I realized in my role of voyeuse that I was experiencing a sight that was unknown to most women. This gave me a thrill, though obviously not a thrill as strong as those experiencing the sex. I could hear Martin panting and grunting, and Tommy groaning with pleasure. If I had been a man, I would have been as hard as nails. As it was, I found it quite erotic. It did not strike me as ridiculous, certainly no more than a man and a woman having sex would have looked. Suddenly Martin was convulsed with an orgasm and began to cover his partner's back with kisses. He slowly withdrew his dick from Tommy, flung himself on the bed beside him, and pulled Tommy on top of him. He resumed kissing him and Tommy began to wriggle as he rubbed himself against Martin's belly. I could see Martin's hands clasping each of Tommy's buttocks. After a couple of minutes, Tommy came with a shout as he squirted jism all over his partner. As he relaxed and began to kiss Martin, I quietly retreated to my room, collected a book on Old Testament studies and slipped back into the sun on the patio. I heard the bathroom shower going.

I felt guilty at what I had done. I had seriously invaded the privacy of two friends whom I liked. It was quite clear that I could never talk to anyone about what I had seen, so you, dear readers, are the beneficiaries of hitherto undisclosed observations. I knew now what gay men did together. It did not revolt me: on the contrary I was touched by the evident tenderness between these two boys, and I envied them the strength of their relationship. However, at the same time I found myself wishing that it were I rather than Martin who had been on the bed with Tommy.

During the second week, we did some walking and visited only a few other places. Martin and I made a good team together in the kitchen and we got to know one another much better. By the end of my visit I had spent sufficient time together with each of them for us all to feel quite close. Deep within me, I regretted that no sex had taken place, but the very last thing that I wanted to do was to break up a strong and loving relationship. Any sex would have had to be consensual among the three of us, and we had not yet reached that stage, but Tommy I knew was not averse to the idea of closer relations.

I reckon that I was very lucky for my first experience of men to be with two such untypical examples. My mother had always told me that the reason she stayed single until she was thirty was because she had not met the right kind of man. "Men in general are always self-centred and crude: they're sloppy dressers and many are obsessed with drink and football. Moreover, most of them are preoccupied with sex. Even gays, who can be smart dressers, polite and well mannered are sexually obsessed, even though they don't want to get into the panties of the women they meet. I was so glad that your father, though by no means undersexed, is totally untypical. Of course nowadays you don't have to be married to get sexual experience, but leopards do not change their spots, so it's best to date men with whom you have cultural, aesthetic and intellectual bonds before considering them as bed sharers!"

This wise, if rather obvious, advice was of great help to me in contemplating the male undergraduates of Boni's.

Moreover, the opportunity to go out with two men at once was rather enjoyable. If I had been a more sophisticated woman, I would have enjoyed playing Tommy and Martin off against one another, but to be frank, I liked them both too much to do that. You may, by reading between the lines of what I have written, have concluded that I was sexually inexperienced, and probably a virgin, and you would be right. So was I being realistic in hoping that one of the men might want to fuck me, or did I deep down really know that the chances of a gay male wanting it were quite remote? Was I indulging in fantasy? Moreover, if either of them did, would he want to enter me by the back door? And if so, would I let him?

TO BE CONTINUED