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Subject: HIS BEAUTIFUL BOY | CHAPTER 1 Chapter 1 - On Account of a Bowl of Grapes "Réveille toi idiot. Nous y sommes presque!" Antoine uttered as he smacked Oscar, making him flinch off his seat. They had been driving for over six hours towards the Italian villa owned by Oscar's parents. They had money, and every single year since he was a little boy, they would journey to Italy and spend the entire summer there, lounging and doing nothing for three months, between June and August. Oscar was now 18 and becoming increasingly fatigued from these family vacations. He had dark glossy hair, gloomy blue eyes he inherited from his mother, and beautifully blazed plump lips. Oscar was a swimmer, and his body was becoming gradually sculptural and athletic, growing away from the scrawny child he was just a couple of years before. He was 6 feet, sporting wide shoulders and thighs that matched. He could barely accommodate himself in the backseat of the car as he tried his best to adjust his position, all the while attempting to manage his late adolescence annoyance levels. What made these expeditions slightly less laborious was the company of his best friend since childhood, Antoine. Oscar called him Anthony because he knew it vexed him exceedingly. Antoine's parents were French immigrants, and even though he lived in the States, he spoke the language fluently. He would use it to snap back at Oscar, every time he would mispronounce his name. And every time he wanted to aggravate him for some reason. Despite this, they were best friends and adulated each other like brothers. Antoine was 19, 5.10, but despite his nice build, his structure was more slender than Oscar's. He had long blonde curly hair, wide green eyes that pierced through, and dense red lips that countered the lighter tone of his skin. They couldn't be more different. Oscar was smart, tough, introverted, and overly analytical. Antoine on the other hand was an extrovert, shallow and fearless. They complimented each other in a way and their friendship fed itself and stemmed from those differences. They were both beautiful young men, at the prime of their adulthood, slipping ever so gently away from the innocence of their childhood. Out of sheer boredom, Antoine started slapping his hand against Oscar, who proceeded to do the same. He then let his body slip to the side, his head right in the middle of Oscar's crotch, then started pushing his head playfully, teasing Oscar's dick. "Oh oui, c'est si gros!" He quipped as he chuckled. "Shut the fuck up!" Oscar clapped back, leaning over him and clutching his crotch, cramming Antoine's flabby dick in his hands. "Ouch! Mr. Steiger, help!" He hollered to the front of the SUV. "Keep it down back there, boys!" Oscar's father sounded, in a profound, commanding, yet tender voice. Mr. Steiner was in his late 40's. He resembled an older version of Oscar. An extremely engaging, magnetic, and acclimating man. He had a soaring figure, was very fit for his age, and sported a black tracksuit with white stripes and white size nine sneakers. Oscar's mother sat beside him, with her left arm stretched towards his neck, as she twined her fingers gracefully petting his scruff. "Finally, we're here." He said. The car started halting as it veered right towards a large, see-through old metal portico. On the other side of it was a large, very European, two-story house with a massive garden up front and an oversized gravel fountain in its epicenter. Mr. Steiger drove around it and parked right in front of the main door. The doors to the house opened and a middle-aged woman, with a tender and friendly grin, came running just as Oscar hopped from the car, which was still coming to a stop. "Oscar, mio caro! Vieni qui e dammi un abbraccio." She shrieked as she opened her arms toward Oscar. He crammed inside her embrace and beamed. "Elena, mi sei mancata!" He stated, visibly laboring to flee the woman's bosom. "Where's Lorenzo?" He asked as the woman pointed her head towards the back of the house. Oscar grinned and was about to dash away when his father quickly diverted him. "Hey! Get your bags and take them up to your room first." Mr. Steiger advised in a commanding tone. "Fine..." Oscar muttered as he begrudgingly dragged himself to the back of the car, gathering the bags and signaling Antoine to follow suit. Bags in hand, both boys went inside the house. There was a large hall with dining and lounge areas on both left and right of the main floor. In the center, a large staircase went up to the first floor where sweeping hallways allocated the rooms. The larger room was on the right and the boys' rooms were on the left, further away from the master suite. They were large chambers with a common bathroom. And despite the considerable areas, Oscar and gaziantep escort Antoine always shared one room with two single beds. The foundation was old and the walls still reeked of fresh paint, since Mr. Steiger would have them smeared every two years or so. "Shotgun!" Antoine roared as he lunged himself on the bed nearest the bathroom. He sank his bags by the side of the bed and stretched profusely, revealing his balanced and burly gut. Oscar noticed he had grown hair around his belly button, but given Antoine's light complexion, he could hardly see them. Oscar didn't appear phased. His attention seemed elsewhere. He laid his bags silently on top of his bed and went straight to the large, unlocked balcony. His eyes started surveying the large leafy parcel that composed most of the back lot of the house. He could already see the large breakfast table set and further down the overgrown path, a large number of trees assembling the way for a small river of still water. As he stared through, from beneath the trees a young man emerged. Tall, about 6 feet sporting denim overalls with nothing under them but a fuzzy burly body and some rubber boots. Raven hair, an untrimmed beard, a robust look, and a confident swag in his walk. Oscars' stare locked on the fellow crossing the verdant garden as he began to smirk. Seeing Lorenzo every year was by far his favorite moment from these family expeditions. He met Lorenzo when Lorenzo was the age he was now and yet he marveled how Lorenzo just became more stunning as the years went on. Every single time he arrived at the villa, Oscar would scour for Lorenzo and marvel at him from afar, almost like a ritual. He would take this time to muster the intrepidity to go up to him and say hello as if they were foreigners. But the truth was, whenever he was around him, Oscar always felt like the 8-year-old boy he was the day they first met. "What are you gawking at? Is it him?" Antoine said, visibly ruffled. "Mhmm." Oscar sighed in agreement, not even acknowledging Antoine's presence as he couldn't take his eyes off Lorenzo. It was almost like silent frolicking. Oscar would gaze, searing his eyes unrelentingly into Lorenzo's skin until he felt his presence from afar, which he would eventually do. The sexy gardener halted and glanced up, fluttering his eyes and bringing his hand up to plug the sun from hitting his rugged and mannish face. As his eyes discovered Oscar's form, his smile emerged, and he raised his arm in greeting. Oscar returned the gesture by raising his arm in an awkward and disheveled way as he felt Antoine coming up from behind him. "Aren't you going to talk to him?" He razzed. Oscar balled his eyes trying to look blasé but the truth was that since childhood he had developed a sexual obsession with Lorenzo. He never taught of himself as gay or bisexual as he was quite prevalent with the girls and had dated several since he was 15. He never felt attracted to men before, either. Except for Lorenzo. His attraction to the Italian gardener had gone from a remote fascination to a full-blown dependence as the years went by. He would never admit it to anyone or even himself, but as he stood on the balcony, his eyes gazing down on that perfect European specimen, all he could think about was how it would feel to get fucked by Lorenzo. "You know, it's kinda weird." Antoine gossiped close enough to Oscar's ear that he could feel his friend's gust on his neck. "What is?" Oscar questioned moving inside the bedroom, attempting to deflect the conversation. "I don't know. Just the way you look at him. Like you're scared or something." Antoine brooded as he hopped back on his bed, clasping his backpack as his slim fingers yanked a small bag of tobacco, rolling paper, and weed from inside. Oscar let out a devious artificial chuckle. "What the fuck are you talking about? I've known the guy all my life. He's like family." He reasoned, trying to sound persuasive and feeling he was failing miserably. "Don't smoke inside, you know my dad hates it. Let's have some breakfast first, then we can chill." "Fine." Antoine emitted disappointingly. He squeezed everything inside the small pouch and placed it under his pillow. He stretched his arms pleading for Oscar's assistance and begrudgingly got hoisted up and both boys left the room and went downstairs. As they descended the immense staircase, scrambling noises could be heard coming from the kitchen. There was a familiar and very satisfying commotion happening as Elena and Oscar's mother paced frantically back and forth, organizing the food and prepping everything to be taken to the large table set outside in the grassland. Oscar sailed into the kitchen trying to avoid bumping into one of the women, he stopped near a fruit bowl and held suriyeli escort a large pear. He petted it on his shirt and as he turned to face the kitchen back door leading outside, Elena clasped his shirt, arresting him. "Dammi quello!" She commanded. Oscar obliged and the woman grabbed the pear and gave it a quick wash in the sink, giving the fruit a few strokes to shake off the excess water before returning it to Oscar's hand. "Grazie." He said, offering the woman a peck on the cheek before fleeing the room. As he stepped outside he could smell the whole table filled with delectable food, ingrained with the scent of fresh coffee and early morning damp fodder. His father was already seated, and next to him was Lorenzo. He was standing there, towering over Mr. Steiger making him look minuscule. He was carrying gardening gloves in his hands and his broad shoulders were on full display. They were immaculate. Absolutely flawless. Given it was mid-morning the sun was beginning to peak through and sweat could be seen drizzling from his forehead and through his neck and shoulders. Oscar couldn't look away as he drove very slowly towards the table. Antoine was right behind him and in an endeavor to distract Oscar, he cut himself in front of him and took the seat closest to Lorenzo. He sat down and faced Oscar, grinning as he loomed the table. "Ciao Lorenzo." Oscar asserted, awkwardly. "Ciao Ragazzo!" Lorenzo hollered, a grin on his face as he boosted his arms and headed towards Oscar giving him a hospitable hug. He rang his muscular arms around the boy's frame and crammed him close. Oscar had grown a lot the past year but even there, inside Lorenzo's embrace, he felt smallish and feeble. His mug was now buried in Lorenzo's sweaty armpits and he could feel the strong musky fragrance overpowering him. Lorenzo yanked away suddenly with a very surprised face, "Look at you all grown up! You are not boy anymore, no? " He noted with a very rich accent. "He still acts like one." Antoine fooled. But Lorenzo's attention seemed to be focused on Oscar as he harbored his face in his hands, his dark, luminous, and plunging eyes gazing into the boy, his smile stretched endlessly. Oscar's core sank to his knees as he stood there, literally being held hostage by the object of his desire. His eyes fixated on Lorenzo's luscious mouth and smoky breath that struck his face like surges of rapture. Time seemed suspended as he envisioned himself leaning forward and sticking his tongue inside Lorenzo's mouth. "Ok you love birds, we get it. Sit down already." Antoine taunted, straining to pull the focus away from the awkwardness installed. "You jealous little French man?" Lorenzo deviated, letting go of Oscar, turning to Antoine and cladding his arm around his neck, heckling him as he tickled his paunch. "Mr. Steiger, help!" Antoine begged between laughs. "Alright boys, settle down. Lorenzo, eat with us." Mr. Steiger hailed. "Si..." Lorenzo obliged, pausing to humbly examine himself, "I will just take a quick shower, signore." He sounded, rushing for a trim door near the barn and a few feet away from the kitchen, where his small and muted room was. Oscar sat down next to his father just in time for both his mother and Elena to arrive at the table with the rest of the breakfast. They began eating, quite frantically in fact, as they all were hungering from the very long car ride. There was this very comfortable quietness for a few minutes as if that moment had transpired numerous times before. You could only hear the munching and the base of the coffee mugs striking the wooden table. Oscar suddenly recalled why he still treasured these trips. It was home to him. And a place where he could unwind and just be himself, alongside his parents, his best friend Antoine, Lorenzo, and Elena. Everything was as it should be. "Tesoro, puoi portarmi l'uva dalla cucina?" Elena asked Oscar, pointing at the empty grape bowl. "Sure." He consented, sweeping his mouth delicately with the tip of the napkin, standing up, and walking towards the kitchen. As he entered he instantly saw the grapes and was about to grab them when he suddenly heard a shower running. His heart skipped a beat. He immediately recalled that the kitchen had a door that led straight to Lorenzo's room. He stood there, the bowl of grapes in his hand, silent while the shower water kept running in the distance. His brain began scheming. If he was going to do this he had to do it now, before his absence became suspicious. He felt conflicted and exhilarated at the same time. He could feel his groin spasming and tightening. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't even realize he was already threading toward the room with the bowl of grapes in his hands. rus escort As he got closer he could see steam pouring from inside the half-closed entrance. Oscar took his hand and forced it open, releasing a wave of vapor that reeked of shoddy soap. He could scarcely see inside, but once the excess fog managed to flee towards the kitchen the room became more perceptible. He could glimpse a very modest mattress and Lorenzo's dirty overalls spread on top of it. The room was particularly muddled. He suddenly felt the need to reach for the overalls and sniff them but he knew he didn't have the luxury of time to indulge so he took some very meticulous and stealth steps towards the tiny bathroom door and peeked inside. There, amongst the gradually clearing mist was Lorenzo's stripped body, showering, in all his glory. Oscar's dick was immediately stiff and pushing against his denim shorts profusely, eyes unflinching as he clenched the bowl. Lorenzo was facing the wall, his back towards the door. His huge furry thighs were slightly slanted as he massaged them spreading the soap in an unhurried and steady rhythm. His outstanding firm ass, like a plump peach, had little hair which made the quiver of the muscles as he moved even more pronounced. He had a mild fuzz on his lower back that gradually diminished to give room to a clean and massive back. A tower of flesh and muscles that extended endlessly. His powering arms would periodically come up to shampoo his raven curly short hair, and they stood there, flexing slowly and sadistically it seemed. Oscar was feeling his dick twitching inside his pants and small pumps of precum were spattering inside his underwear. He began feeling slightly bewildered as his left hand went inside the bowl and he inadvertently began squishing the grapes into a pulp. "Shit!" He heaved out loud without realizing the sound had traveled right at Lorenzo, who turned around and looked at him, visibly surprised. "Oscar, cosa stai facendo?" He questioned, despite appearing unbothered by the young man's unsolicited company. "Sorry, I hum..." Oscar muttered trying to look everywhere except at Lorenzo's 6-inch uncut soft shaft bobbing in front of him, "Elena wants you to hurry up." He stated as he shook his grape juice-covered hand. He had seen a lot of dicks in his life, especially since he joined the swim team, but most were smaller in size when soft. But not this one. He seemed fascinated by the thickness and length and all that extra skin cocooning the tip. He imagined how it would feel to unwrap it and what it would smell like underneath once you peeled that skin back. "Ei tu, grab me towel, sì?" Lorenzo requested, conniving at Oscar and making his eyes snap away from his dick. He did as suggested moving the grapes to his left hand and grabbing the towel with the other hand, stretching his arm towards the shower door. Lorenzo held his arm forward but instead of grabbing the towel, he snatched the boy's arm. The two men stood there, in complete silence. Oscar felt his arm being drawn very gently but firmly as the span between them became smaller and smaller. It was not long before they were inches away from each other and the boy could feel Lorenzo's breath on him. "You grown, boy. Now you are as tall as me." He taunted as he kept pulling Oscar's arm down and closer to his groin, ceasing inches away from his pelvis. Their bodies were virtually touching and the boy's flushed red face was now nestled on Lorenzo's soaked shoulder. He leaned forward, driving his mouth towards Oscar's ear, and whispered, "Il mio bel ragazzo." With a resonant voice while grabbing a grape from the bowl and pulling away, never flickering or letting his eyes escape from Oscar's. He took the grape into his mouth, munching and grinning at the same time. "I see you later, yes? Go." He commanded, nodding his head and signaling Oscar to leave. "Of Course." Oscar mumbled almost instinctively and like a jolt of lightning he turned away and dashed out of the bathroom, through the small room, and into the kitchen, leaving the bowl of smashed grapes on the counter and escaping inside the house, up the large stairs, and into his room. He shut the door and hurled himself down on the bed. With his face fully buried inside his pillow, he let out a prolonged and guttural sound. Almost like an anguished cry. His mind was driving too fast and furiously, trying to keep up with his emotions. "Fuck." He wailed, his head still squashed inside his pillow, his dick still throbbing rock hard, arrested between his abdomen and the sheets, and his underwear soaked in precum. What had just happened? How come he didn't react? What was this feeling in his groin? Was Lorenzo coming on to him? Or was his mind playing tricks on him? Things were blurry and unrecognizable. That familiar feeling of serenity had gone to shit the moment he stepped foot in that kitchen and at that moment he knew, without a doubt, that this summer would be anything but familiar territory. From now on, everything was foreign. (Chapter 2 Coming Soon...)
10-05-2022, at 07:31 PM
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