Chapter 1: Indie disco
Thursday night at ‘La Danzing’ was the only night to go. The place was total dive bar but it was our dive. They played only alternative and 80’s and we loved it. It always had a good atmosphere, cheap drinks and a full dance floor. This night I was running late to meet my friends as I had a phone call from my parents in Italy and I knew my friends would understand. I wasn’t that late anyway, only about an hour and a half. You will be surprised to learn this type of lateness was not unusual for me.
Walking in I soon realized that the place was jumping. The bar was stacked with punters, the booth seating area was full and the dance floor was packed tight with dancers. The DJ was working her magic weaving great tracks into a medley that kept the crowd up and gyrating. I found my friends in our usual booth, beneath the picture of ‘Morrissey with a bunch of flowers’. I smoothly slid in and greeted my friends who were merrily drunk except for Marzia, who was our driver for the night.
The dance floor was a mixture of young girls, drunk old men and goths, which parted suddenly somewhere near the middle. The heaving crowd was making room for the erratic dance moves of two of the tallest men I have ever seen. I could just make out the faces of the disgruntled dancers giving way to the pair of similarly dressed men. They wielded their legs and arms like weapons. No one was safe and it was obvious that they couldn’t care less who they knocked out of the way as they sought pleasure in their cavorting. I liked their style.
They had balls to be bitches to the masses and not get drinks thrown at them or a slap. They deserved a slap. They were truly in their own moment as they danced, taking full advantage of their size and height and then the space their unpredictable dance moves had made on the dance floor. If the track didn’t change soon, I feared lives would be lost. On cue the DJ slowed the next track and the men jostled their way off the dancefloor with their sights set for the bar.
They were both very tall, like really tall. I am six foot and they were a good half a foot on me. They were way too blonde, in a way that preppy college graduates only can be. They were dressed in well tailored business suits (ties removed) that were too flashy for this place. Other than the colour variation in their suits, they were identical.
They were handsome, Yes. A little too ‘pretty boy’ for my liking but hot nonetheless. They were definitely a sight to behold. Motioning towards the pair, I mentioned to my friends seated around the table, “I didn’t realize that Zeus had a twin brother.”
My best friend, Marzia, was next to me, and could only sigh in lieu of any other response. Which I took as a way that was too obvious, even for her. She was already besotted by them. They were her type. The merchant bankers or aspiring high court judges would suit her well as her future husband.
“You should definitely make a move on them.” I suggested.
“Not a chance. They are out of my league! And ‘two for the price of one’ is more than I could handle.”
“I can distract one, while you jump the other!” I joked.
The next track made Marzia squeal like a teenage girl, which she wasn’t any more. She dragged me to my feet and on to the dancefloor. I felt obliged to join her, as I was a little late. We were always an unlikely couple, she and I. Her moody goth phase had gone on for way longer than anyone had expected. Don’t get me wrong, she is stylish but a little too dark for the day wear and almost too dark for the night. But she was my best friend so what can I say. I love her.
I was a little ‘gothed’ up tonight, wearing a shear black long sleeved shirt which was slightly too small for me and would inevitable come undone or be discarded before too long. My jeans were unfashionably baggy and would slip down below my hips. The crowd liked a bit of flesh and I was more than willing to deliver and I am always happy to accept the appreciative glances. I rarely spoke to anyone other than our set but enjoyed the attention nonetheless.
My moves under the flashing lights were fluid and on the beat. Pulling my shaggy curls out of my eyes, I rolled my hips and shoulders. I like to pace out the rhythm of the song, using arms or a pointed toe to emphasize specific lines or specific points in the song. We swaggered in the crowd. The rightful heirs to the space we claimed in this room. I could have been a dancer but chose to study music instead. Like racehorses, dancer’s careers were shortened by the physicality of the work and the starvation of the lack of employment. I had more options studying music.
The present song was coming to its apex and I was preparing to make a dramatic arm movement, when an elbow shoved me sideways and I skidded across the floor, almost taking out two teenage girls. Before I could register that I was on the ground, two giant hands had righted me again and were brushing me off. ‘Good going meat head!” a booming voice said, to the identical blonde tower next to him. “I have to apologize for my brother, he is a menace on the dancefloor.”
I mumbled something to accept his apology that he wouldn’t have heard over the music and blinked at Marzia a few times. She was lost to me, her eyes were the size of dinnerplates reflecting the wide brown faces of the twin barbarians.
“Go get the man a drink! He may have concussion!” the voice said from behind me with his hands planted firmly on my shoulders. He manhandled me towards the bar, I apologized as I barged through the other patrons. All Marzia could do was trail behind us.
Shouting over the noisy bar, he asked, “What would you like to drink?”
I squeaked shyly, “A vodka.”
Obviously, I didn’t say it clearly enough as the blue jacket man said, “Oh a tequila shot, that’s a great idea!”
“No, I said a vodka!” I corrected him.
“Arms, get him a tequila and a vodka shot! And you little lady?” He asked Marzia in a patronizing tone.
Her face lit up as he spoke to her directly for the first time. “Just a water, I am the designated driver tonight!”
Gesturing at Marzia and then holding up two fingers for his brother he mouthed, “The same for her!”
Marzia was never a big drinker and on this occasion the two drinks were enough for her. She was soon crying on the shoulder of one of our other friends, about how much she loved them, ‘so very much’ and that she hoped that they would be friends forever!
The twins and I were still up near the bar. “I’m Oli,” blue suit shouted over the nosy room, placing his gigantic hand on his chest. The brown suit mirrored the gesture with, “I’m Armie!”
“Wait, what?” leaving my drink, I grabbed both of them by the arm and dragged them to the side of the bar where it was a little quieter. They repeated themselves, blue suit said “I’m Armand, or Armie for short.” And then the other said, “Oliver or Oli.” and stuck his hand out. I said, “Elio.” And they both shook my hand in an over formal way.
They both said my name in unison, “Eli-ooooo!”with a wink nod to the other. “Where are you from Eli-oooo?” they both asked.
No one could or has ever said my name the way the boys would say my name. The vowels so rounded. It was like music to my ears.
“Well, Italy actually, I am here studying at the university,” I excitedly told them.
“You don’t have an accent!” brown suit commented.
“One of my parents is American and the other is half French and half Italian. We have spent a lot of time here visiting family.”
This seemed to please them immensely. Forgetting our drinks, we took to the dance floor for another couple of songs. The boys slowed their dancing to be more in time with my more sensual style. They made sure to brush up against me as often as possible. Sometimes one hand on my hip or an arm around my shoulders or one of them on either side of me jumping excitedly up and down. They let me feel everything that was hidden under their suits. They were fit, like really fit. Their muscles tight and lean, and they were so startlingly perfect, I was in disbelief. I just couldn’t understand what they were doing coming on to me.
The next track began with short sets of staccato xylophone notes and a droning synthesizer tone. Unexpectedly blue suit, or rather Oli, dragged me down onto my knees. Both of us would have looked to the rest of the crowd like we are praying at Armie’s feet. If they want me to worship him, who am I to say no. People have gone to war over less than the beauty of a godly figure.
The view from down here was fine. Resplendent in his brown suit, arms raised high over his head as his fist pump along with the rhythm of the song. He was kicking his feet in wild abandon, which stopped us from getting too close. He shook his head as if he was shaking off years of oppression, which of course neither of these two has ever known.
The vocals of the song kicked in, ‘There’s an Armie (sic) on the dancefloor… It’s a fashion with a gun, my love!’ and I quizzically looked across to Oliver. “We have to give him some time to shine. He has to live with all this greatness.” gesturing towards himself, “Poor guy!” and he nodded theatrically. I erupted into riotous laughter which he followed me in. I pulled up to full height again and was embraced in two strong arms. Behind me we were joined by two more strong arms and a grinding groin from behind. Their elation was infectious, and we danced in some way entwined for the rest of the night. Ok, they were trying to pick me up, but which one would make the move. I would take either if they were offering.
As the ‘ugly lights’ came up, we went in search of Marzia. We found her asleep in our booth, cuddling her handbag. With a little gentle coaxing, she was poured into a taxi and I went to say my goodbyes to my friends as I prepared to go home alone.
Armie began, ‘So Oli here believes that you don’t want to come home with us tonight. I have assured him that we will definitely be able to talk you around, by offering access to two of the hottest men in this city!”
Oliver continued as if speaking to his brother in a bombastic tone, “I was just saying that I don’t think that young Eli-o here understands what horrors could befall a beautiful music student at such a late hour. We could possibly be saving his life by safely delivering him to our very large and most excellent bed!”
“It’s been a fun night guys, but I have to get up for school in the morning and I wouldn’t want to disrupt your morning like that!” I was lying and I think we all knew it. They were all a bit too much for me in the state I was in and I didn’t want to make a total fool of myself by passing out or throwing up or not being able to get it up or something.
“Oh, school tomorrow… Of course.” They both said with a knowing nod.
“How about we settle this with a vote?” Both nodded heartily at me until I agreed.
“All those in favor of Elio sleeping at ours, raise your hand.”
All four of their arms were up and over their heads before I could move. Oliver looked me square in the face and declared. “Oh, I am sorry Elio, you are out voted. This is a democracy and you lose.”
They both smirked at their railroading of my alcohol addled mind. I conceded to their demands. This was how we would solve all our disagreement in this friendship. We would vote and they would outnumber me. No decision was too small to not have go to a vote, which I would easily lose. I tried another time to get them to ‘rock paper scissors’ for it but again they always beat me, one of them would always make the shape that would beat me. It was as if they knew what the other would do and do the opposite. Sometimes you just must turn your brain off and go along with the lovable pair of rascals.
Driving home, we squeezed into the front seat of one of their trucks. The bench seat was big enough for three and they insisted that I sit between them. Something about leg room. Oliver started telling me a story and then Armie would cut in to finish it. Each story would be completed with both boys adding bits and details the other left out. The back and forth of the conversation left me with no room to interject. Ultimately each story would end in laughter. It was great fun being with these two.
I asked Oliver if he should be driving, as I knew I was not in a state to be behind the wheel of a car and he turned to look at me, with a serious expression. “Relax… I am about to be a doctor.” He rubbed his hand on my shoulder and I wanted to lean deeper under his firm thumb. They both laughed at my reaction, but the thought didn’t go out of my mind.
I tried not to think of the danger and changed the subject with another question, “So, what’s it like to always have your wing man by your side.”
“Wingman? What wingman?” They both asked. “We are both going to fuck you tonight!”
I gulped audibly and felt a blush raise in my face. My lips became very warm as I tried to smile back at them. This reaction made them laugh heartily and I ultimately joined them, if not left feeling a little awkward with them. They each slipped a hand onto one of my knees and they gave each other a look that was the equivalent of a ‘high five’. I reminded myself that I had been outvoted after all.
Chapter 2: It's all about the shag
Trigger warning: If you don't want to read about gay sex, which includes incest and threesomes. Please wait for the next chapter. Hopefully that will be out next week.
The way I have written this chapter is that if you hit a *** point and it is all a bit much, please stop reading. From each of these points the content escalates and continues to do so until the end of the chapter.
If you are still with me? This is what happens when Elio arrives home with Oliver and Armie. They have a very big bed.
Driving home with the twins, I didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t scared, they were fun and really relaxed, even as they joked about serial killers. I guess I should have been cautious as they were both much bigger than me and could have caused me some serious harm, but I wasn’t worried. I genuinely liked them both, they were cool guys. They made me laugh and I felt safe. What could go wrong?
We slipped our shoes off as we entered the front door. The house was perfectly quiet and smelt of years of people living there and a kind of musk that I couldn’t pin point, but would later know intimately. It smelt like a home, not some ‘pimped out crib’ of two corporate high fliers; like what I had been expecting. It was homey and well loved. Oliver slapped his hand over my mouth and whispered into my ear. “Don’t wake Mom and Dad or there will be hell to pay!”
I nodded in agreement. And he removed his hand. As quietly as we could, we walked through the house and made our way upstairs to a large bedroom, which contained one very large bed. The room’s layout was conventional, and the furniture was ordinary if not a little plain, except for the very big bed that obviously could fit the very big men.
As Oliver shut the door with a loud bang that made us all stop dead in our tracks, Armie pulled me into his chest. “Can I kiss you?” he enquired.
“Yes, Please.” I whispered, collapsing into his embrace.
Sliding his index finger along my jaw, he lifted my chin up until my lips touched his. I pushed myself deeper into his mouth, tasting the remnants of alcohol and cigarettes. In a second, Oliver was behind me with his arms around the both of us. Their muscular bodies encasing me, making me feel safe in their firm embrace. Greedily, Oli twisted me away from his brother and straight on to his own lips. He kissed me harder, more hungerly as if he was impatient from waiting for his turn. Armie slipped the shirt off my shoulders and proceeded to place gentle kisses along the line of my neck and down my shoulders. Armie went down on his knees, lifted my foot and relieved it of its sock and did the same with its twin on the other foot. He gently gave the arch of my foot a tender kiss before returning to the floor.
Oliver’s hands slid down my back and across my flanks and down my belly to the belt. One-handed, he released it and wrenched it from the eyelets of my jeans, his other hand was running through my hair. In a moment between kisses, my jeans were at my knees and then I stepped out of them. The precision of their choregraphed movements was like they were unwrapping a large Christmas present. It was measured and charming without any feeling of force or persuasion. After they were finished I was left almost naked with my cock tenting in the front of my boxer shorts. They lifted me off the floor and flung me backwards onto the bed. It was soft but firm and I felt tiny in what must have been a super king-sized bed.
Gazing back at them, I realized the boys were still fully dressed. I must have shown my awkwardness in the bed alone. I tried to think of what to say to ease my distress. I began to wonder that the ground rules were for this tryst. I was drunk enough to come straight out with it. “So, will you be doing stuff together or should I always stay between you? Like, do you kiss each other, or will that be just me? Will you touch each other? Can I ask you to touch each other?” I asked quickly.
“So…will you touch each other’s dicks?” I was cut off.
“Oh look here, we have a big old twin perve!” One commented to the other dryly. The shocked look of my face must have spoken volumes. He turned to his mirror image and said with outstretched arms, “Come here!”
They kissed passionately, with such genuine tenderness, my dick bounced at the sight. I had honestly never seen anything quite as beautiful as these men, let alone the sight of them embracing and the thought of them getting it on blew my mind. They started to play up to my obvious interest to their interaction.
In a way that only two people who are extremely comfortable with each other and who have no fear to touching the other, they began to ham it up as they undressed the other. Unbuttoning each other’s shirts, then their trousers and playfully sliding them off. I was regaled by twin commentary about what they found there. They had a way of delivering the most hilarious and comic display and yet be completely straight faced and incredibly serious about it. Who are these people?
I was trying to memorise the differences between them as they discussed the other’s body or pointed out a blemish. Armie has a small birthmark on his right shoulder and Oliver has a scar on this left hip but this wasn’t going be enough to remember which was which. To look at them they were identical including the bulges in the front of their matching boxer briefs. I can’t to this day remember who did what, or to whom from this point on.
They both took a running jump and leaped at the bed. I was already laying down but found myself on my back, as I was tackled out of my shorts. I was fighting for my life as lips and necks and arms and shoulders and tongues and fingers and feet and calves caressed my body. Their little striptease had done its job on me, I was whelmed, in fact I was completely overwhelmed. I wanted to taste every inch of them. As they began to touch me, I lamented only having two hands on two arms and two legs to assist me in consuming them. I was completely outnumbered in all senses of the word.
One mouth was on my neck nibbling towards my ear as another was kissing along my belly which made me laugh, as he headed south. I let out a gasp he took my balls into his mouth and slurped on them happily. I tugged the other’s ears, as I pulled him firmly into a kiss. All too soon, he had to pull out of it to get his breath.
They were obviously taking their time savoring the exploration of my body. There was a running commentary in base baritone coming from both of them. They spoke of what they were finding or what they going to do once they got to where they were kissing or licking their way to.
They encouraged me to explore them more fully, but I was only one man with a lot of geography to cover. A large hand led my hand over an expanse of flesh, to a hard cock, which was still encased in fabric. I quickly released it and began to stroke him, almost absentmindedly tapping out a rhyme with my long slender fingers along its ample length. I never thought of my hands as small, until I saw the four of theirs. They were broad and blunt and as large as side plates. Much like their penises, thick and blunt and the cock heads were shaped like the terracotta domes of a cathedral.
All the frottage was driving me wild. I could not stop myself from wanting more of their magnificent bodies on mine. I have always had a thing for becoming lost under the full weight of a man and in this case, I had two much larger than me, forcing me down into the bed. My mind began to pondered Milan Kundera’s opposing yet entwining concepts of the ‘lightness’ of sex and the ‘weight’ of love. I know what I prefer.
In a ‘sex hazed’ frenzy, I was trying to get as much of them both into my mouth. Supping frantically at the mountains and valleys laid out before me, one of them gently lift my face into his, “Steady boy, we have all night and there is plenty of us to go around.”
And they both laughed. I blinked at him. I could see the flush of colour in his cheeks and his pupils dilated and I needed to stand back and look at all of them at the same time. I was obsessed with their beauty.
Laying side by side at the top of the bed for the first time, with me standing over them, I wasn’t conscious of my own nudity I just wanted to return to their warm bodies. My hands naturally found their way to their cocks. Leaning over a meaty thigh, I took one in my mouth and manipulated the other, before switching the gesture. With their arms around the other’s shoulders, they naturally fell into a kiss. It was charming and reverent to what I was doing to them. It also turned me on more than I would like to admit. It was beautiful to be part of bringing these two pleasure.
Tasting the salt and flour of their fluids which were dribbling from their slits, my saliva lubricating the motion and I watch their balls begin to retreat and tighten and they headed along the path to climax. They spoke quietly to each other as I continued, I didn’t hear all of it but the words almost didn’t make sense, they had a short hand language that only they could understand and I began to feel like an intruder into a sacred moment. One hand from each boy reached under my armpits and led me to their faces, now glowing with joy and lust. They were delighted with the position they found themselves in. I was quite relieved that I was able to attempt to satisfy them.
The three of us had our faces pushed together in an awkward three-way kiss, as I let out a gasp of mild shock as a finger from the hand that had been laying on my buttocks, tried to enter me. Its sudden movement to breach my tight ring-like muscle was not unwelcome but still came as a surprise. Our nighttime activities were escalating.
Forcing its way past the first knuckle, I needed to take a moment to normalize the sensation. I clamped my muscle around the digit until the muscle eased and this stopped its progress inside me for a few moments. I grasped the hand that was in my most sensitive spot and commented. “You will need to lube that thing to get it any further up there,” I said with a smirk.
The brother closest to the edge of the bed reached under and pulled out a little box containing the necessary requirements to take this further.
Laying on my back I raised my legs to expose my hole. One brother stroked lube on me and the other sucked on my restiffening cock. The finger slid in easier and the muscle gave way to waves of pleasure. The second digit was more of a challenge and the brother closest to my face told me to breath out as it goes in. As I was enjoying their fat fingers in me, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to be passive in this fuck and resolved to take over the control of the penetration.
I am not sure how they decided who would do it, but one was laying on his back with his slab of meat encased in a condom and I galvanized myself to sit on it. The other brother assisted me by aligning me on the end of his brother’s length. To my last day I will never forget the goofy grin on his face as I glided myself down and engulfed his entire prick.
This first time was quick and over in a few minutes but as I took the second prick in the classic ‘doggy style’ position I was more relaxed; the emergency of a few moments earlier had dissipated, and he merrily swung his hips and slapped rhythmically into me. I arched my back a little and he hit me in the right spot, and I released ribbons of spunk over his brother’s chest.
I woke early as the sun was peering through the curtains, wrapped in the two brothers. I was the middle spoon, with our six legs entwined, the same way as our scents enveloped the room. As I stirred, the brother in front drove his ass into my groin and with that, my body was reignited with desire to continue. Slipping a finger into him, he rolled over and kissed me square on the lips. The other brother said matter-of-factly from the other side, “You better be able to give that to both of us, not just one.” And he grasped at my cock, stroking it into life.
Lifting myself out of the central grove of the bed, now that I was not afraid to awaken the other brother, I fumbled with the lube bottle on the bedside table. I lifted one long hairy leg of each brother and placed them on each of my shoulders. Their leg hairs tickled my neck and they relaxed into my lube covered fingers. Their initial gasp was replaced by a deep groan and I slowly slide it out and back in. Synchronizing the thrusts, I increased my speed, slowly twisting my finger in and out of their warm holes. The brothers were soon ready for me. I covered my cock in latex and lube. I drove slowly into the one that had moved closest and presented himself to me. He pushed back on to me and I matched his aggression. This was a little bit harder than I would usually be with a partner, but he sounded like he was enjoying it. His firm hands on my hips guided me to increase my pace. He gasped as he came and languidly kissed his brother as I changed my condom.
I fitted myself between the other set of thighs. He pulled me into a kiss as his brother started stroking him. He was more relaxed than the first. It was like I had already been in him. Lifting his legs up above his head he held his ankles as I counterbalanced my full weight on to his hips. When I was balls deep, he relaxed his legs and they went most of the way down my back, making me enter him deeper. The other brother moaned in to my ear, “You will kill me if you stop.”
My mouth hung open as I watched them both orgasm simultaneously. I followed them to climax soon after. The three of us returned to our place entangled in the bed sheets. I was completely sated for the first time in my life.
This goes out to the gang on the 'Call me by your name after dark' chat and the 'I wanted you to know' fiction group for your advice and encouragement. I only had to write this thing twice.
Our dear friend 'Brandy' your confidence is inspiring and you had the best advice which is that the 'thrusting should be described well.'
It also was very awkward having my husband read this as now he is convinced that I do want to 'root Armie Hammer!' I protested that I am an Oliver lover all the way. He doesn't believe me. Oh, the price I pay for fiction.
Please enjoy and comment.
Chapter 3: Breakfast of chapions
It's the morning after and the world is all a little bit harsh for Elio right now. Elio meets the twins mother and she is pretty excited to meet one of her sons friends.
Slowly, I came to in their arms. I was warm, safe and more than a little sticky. All I could smell was them. As I breathed in their delicious smells and his chest hairs tickled my nose. I was in heaven laying this way. They definitely liked to cuddle after sex. I listened for a moment to them mumbling to each other. They spoke in phrases that were very kind and sweet sounding but made no sense to me. It wasn’t a language that I understood. When they realized I was awake they switched to standard English.
“Morning sleepy head.” One asked, “Want to get in the shower??”
“Don’t you want to join me?” I asked them suggestively.
“Nope! We have chores to do. And it will be quicker if you do ‘that’ alone.” pointing at the clammy bits of my body.
They hustled me out of their room and I found myself shoved towards the bathroom, with a towel in hand. I was a little bummed at their rejection but realized that this is their family home and I didn’t want to start the morning having a difficult conversation with an annoyed Mom or Dad.
Upon returning all clean and sweet smelling, I was escorted downstairs to the kitchen. With a simple hand gesture, I was directed to sit at a smallish breakfast table. Behind an imposingly high kitchen counter was an equally imposing tall blonde woman. I guessed who she was by the similarity to the crystal blue eyes of the boys. “Mom, can you entertain Elio while we’re in the shower. He’s from Italy!” With that we were left alone.
She begun, “Good morning Elio, would you like some coffee? As you’re Italian, I guess you like it strong,” she said smiling sweetly at me.
I nodded eagerly. I wonder if I looked as hung-overed as I felt?
“You must be very special Elio. As all I usually get from friends of the boys is a wave as they bundle them out of the door.”
Mrs S informed me, that her husband, their father, had left for work hours ago. She knew that when ‘those two’ finally surfaced, they would be ravenous. So, would I like to join them in some breakfast. I mumbled something about being happy to join them and wanting only toast.
As she worked, she fired numerous questions at me, asking about my background, my studies, the length of my stay in the States and my parents. All of which I was more than happy to divulge, but my replies were short and precise, as my head was exceedingly foggy after our very late night.
We heard a loud bump from upstairs and we both looked up towards the ceiling. “Those two! We’ll have this house down around our ears before too long.” She said.
In my present state I found everything a little hard to focus on. The light streaming in through the patio doors was all a bit too bright. The wooden furniture was of good quality, if not a little scuffed and worn. The walls and corners of the kitchen counters had a similar patina. The room had a feeling of care and thoughtfulness, as though everything in it was trying to maintain itself as best it could with what life had thrown its way. Ultimately, everything looked a little tired. That also could be how you would describe the stoic woman preparing a mountain of breakfast. 24 years of living with two rambunctious boys had left a mark on everything that they touched.
“You know this isn’t a two-bedroom house.” she commented out of the blue.
I hadn’t even thought about the layout of the house nor sleeping arrangements when I had arrived. I guessed this was leading somewhere. “We have other rooms for them to sleep in, but they have always chosen to share a bed.” Mrs S continued.
From the way she spoke it must have been a common question, but I was not quick witted enough on this morning to know where this topic was going. I just nodded and gave her room to speak.
“Even as babies, they would only settle when they were sleeping together. We tried separate beds, when they were old enough to leave the cot. We gave them the sweetest twin beds, with a big wooden letter on the bedhead for each one. But each morning we would find them curled up in one of the beds.”
“When they reached high school, it would have made sense for them to have their own spaces, but they wouldn’t have it… and so we left it. There is not point upsetting them. We just bought them the biggest bed we could fit through the door and left it at that.” She said a little exasperated.
“Our boys have always been more settled when they are together. I ended up turning off their baby monitor when they started to speak, they would be chattering away almost continually, day and night. I couldn’t get any sleep and so we thought we would hear them if they were in any real trouble. They still called to one another in the dark, even though they were in each others arms.”
I wasn’t sure why she was confiding so much in me, but I was enjoying the unusual insight into these extraordinary men.
“From their first words, they had constructed their own language; a sort of shorthand but definitely not anything we could understand. Apparently, it’s quite common. It became an issue in third grade. The school thought is was best for them to be separated. The boys wouldn’t speak to anyone else and the ‘so called’ professionals thought it was impacting their development. I had no problem with them happily playing together alone, speaking their twin speak, but the school insisted. The decision turned out to be the worst three months of our life. Armie became willful and Oliver sulky and they both stopped talking altogether. Their grades plummeted and the school called us in nearly every day to strategize how to help them adapt to the new situation. We told them, just put them in one class and ‘they would sort it out, together.’ Oh no, they had years of experience with children and knew best.”
“It all came to a head when their test results came in. Their grades were appallingly bad but started showing unusual errors. Or rather, the identical errors. ‘How was it possible?’ the school asked. I then knew what was occurring. Oliver liked English and Armie liked math. It made sense to them, to not do the same work twice. They would sneaky out of class and switch shirts in the hallway and then take each other’s tests. The sneaky little devils.”
We both chuckled. The thought of the twins at that age was adorable.
She continued, “This was the last straw, the school decided the only way to stop them was to put them back in the same class and that way be sure of who was doing what. We made the boys promise to at least try to speak to other kids. The boys could not have been happier, and our lives returned to normal. Or as normal as it could be with those two.” She chuckled again.
She paused to consider and became serious again, “I did feel sorry for their teachers. The twins ran rings around them, they were always three steps ahead. As they grew, they were also two foot above them.” She sighed.
“What can you do, when you have two of the brightest boys in the world!” She shrugged her shoulders.
“We had always wanted more children, but we were blessed with those two and we could never find the time to have more, so they are our world,” she stated with resolve.
I completely understood what she was saying. I was an only child. My parents wanted more but weren’t blessed that way. She was content with her life and her beautiful boys. I didn’t feel pity for her, but I could tell they could wear thin, as they maneuvered everyone to get their own way. I had only experienced one night with them and they had not had to compromise once.
In spite of their size they could be quite stealthy. With my back to the door, I smelt them just before they both clamped a firm hand each on each of my shoulders. “Hope Mom hasn’t been boring you too much...” One said. I nearly leapt out of my skin.
“Yes, she means well, but she does get a little excited when she has a handsome face to talk at.” The other continued and walked past me to kiss his mother on the cheek. She ran her hand over his shoulder and in the same movement slapped his hand away from the plate of bacon, as he tried to steal a piece. She knew her sons and little got past her.
“Mom, look at these curls. They just happen straight out of the shower.” The twin next to me commented giving my unruly hair a playful tug.
“Leave the boy alone Oliver, he is very sweet and you shouldn’t pull his hair. He won’t know you like him if you treat him so roughly.” She lectured him in a tone for a much younger child.
She fixed Oliver with a stern motherly look, which dissolved into a playful smile. Oliver released my hair and raised his hands in mock horror.
So, she was able to tell them apart, I looked from one to the other try to notice differences, I couldn’t see any yet. I would have the rely on their shirt colour differences for now until I had time to study them more closely.
Over the next hour, I saw an astounding amount of food disappear into the two of them. They had quite an appetite. I nibbled on a piece of toast smeared with Nutella, which was all I could get down. With that and the strong coffee, I was beginning to feel a little better about the day.
The boys regaled their mother with an extremely distorted version of how we met. To believe the twins retelling of the events, they had rescued me, by reached into a murderous mosh pit, lifting me to safety. Me, the lost foreign boy, who didn’t know what I was dancing into. They left out the part about them being the cause of all the ‘dance floor slaughter’ at La Danzing on that night. I let them tell their tale, their own way.
They went to great lengths to describe how their bravery could have possibly saved my life and how their mother should be so proud of their actions. They then selflessly plied me with stiff drinks to bring me back to myself and ultimately were able to finally get something sensical out of my mouth. Both delighted in describing how at last, they had decided the only option was for them to bring me home, to ensure that I didn’t have concussion and thus stop me passing out and or dying.
Their mother nodded along with their story, while the twins delivered blow for blow details of their actions that were truly all their own invention. She gave me a knowing wink as they finished. Nothing got past her, and she truly understood her sons. I sat in a daze and marveled at the largely imagined and wildly inaccurate account of the evening that I had apparently been a part of. They then turn to me and asked, “Do you want to go to a party tonight?”
“Sorry boys, I’m booked. It’s Friday night! It’s all about Marzia, homemade pizza and romantic comedies.”
“Oh, Marzee-ia won’t mind.” Armie said.
“Oh, Marzee-ia can come.” Oliver parroted his brother.
We all knew Marzia wouldn’t want to go to a party after her drunken night, the night before.
“I can ask, I guess.” I said in a small tone. Their scheming made me very nervous and self-conscious. I was about to be outnumbered again; they were going to insist. I knew I couldn’t resist them.
As we left, I got a kiss on both cheek from Mrs S (being all continental) and then she made me promise to visit again. The three of us piled into Armies truck and they drove me to campus. When Oliver and I got out, Oliver grabbed me and in a cheesy sitcom voice said, “A kiss for Daddy?” Puckering his lips.
I shoved him away and gave him a punch in the arm. “Don’t say anything like that ever again. It’s the creepiest thing I have ever heard! You are only two years older than me!”
Armie quickly arrived behind his brother, also to say his goodbyes.
“And, I will have you know, that you two pirates could never compare to the wit and charm of Professor Samuel Perlman, even in your wildest dreams,” I blurted out in a half-amused tone.
“Well I stand corrected, I’m not your Daddy,” Oliver spluttered out.
Armie laughingly replied… “I like that. So that would make us ‘Elio and the pirate twins.’ We should start a band.”
I was still chuckling about the idea, as I made the ‘I survived!’ call to Marzia.
“Elio ‘fucking’ Perlman, where the fuck has you been.” She shouted at me. “I was so worried. I was about to call all the hospitals and the police and put in a missing person’s report. Last seen with two heavenly ’man mountains’!”
“Pirate twins, actually!” I corrected her.
“And have they stolen more than just your heart!” She sighed down the line.
“I am so fucked! Metaphorically and physically!” Was all I could reply.
Chapter 4: Friday night - part one
After a short but troubled sleep Elio goes to Marzia's apartment to discuss the previous night, before the Twins join them for homemade Pizza and a movie. Marzia feels the need to confront the twins about their intentions. Elio is naturally horrified!
I had never noticed how big my bed was nor how cold and lonely it could be without being in the arms of the two most extraordinary men I have ever met. I tried to snap myself out of it. It was not normal to be crushing this hard after less than 24 hours. I had some food, some serious glasses of water and I lay there and tossed and turned. I just couldn’t get comfortable. My head didn’t fit into the pillow as it used to and my blankets were itchy, god I hate these blankets. They didn’t contour to my shape like the boys did, how have I put up with them so long? I lay and wondered what in the past had I done with my legs when in bed. They bounce around looking for a resting place, never quite getting comfortable. My brain wasn’t much better and just wouldn’t switch off. I went over conversations, preparing answers for imagined discussions or questions or explanations.
“This is stupid,” I said to myself in the half light. I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling, willing myself to sleep. At some point I must have drifted off because my alarm woke me a few hours later. I was being so juvenile acting like this. I was embarrassed at myself for being excited to see them again. I got to Marzia's house well before the time I knew the boys would be arriving, as I needed to have a proper debrief. The sort that only Marzia could give.
Walking through Marzia's door, I could see by the look on her face. She wasn't happy about me changing our well-worn plans of Friday movie and homemade pizza night. I could also see through her expression of disapproval. She was desperate to hear all about my sex-capade. I put her to work cutting up the toppings, as I kneaded the dough that I made the day before. I went into too much detail about their house and parents; their sleeping arrangement and how lovely they all were. How Mrs S told me way too much about their childhood, which I am sure they I would have been horrified at if my Maman had done the same. I told her I was sure she was going to bring family photos out on my next visit.
I thought that Marzia would cut off a finger as I told her the full unedited, blow for blow details of our shag-fest. Or as best as I could remember it anyway. I hoped that I had explained sensitivity and closeness without sounding crass or perverted. It was delicate and gentle and loving and magical and it was happening to me. I complained that I couldn’t tell them apart and that I would need her help to find out who was who. I expressed the hope that they would be wearing different shirts or shoes or something.
We were so engrossed in our gossiping that when the doorbell rang, we both nearly leapt out of our skins. I rushed to the door opening it before Marzia had a chance to move.
And there they were, leaning against the door frame. Casually dressed in jeans and t-shirts, their hair roughly pulled to one side and they looked so good, so big and so delicious.
Before I knew what was happening, I was dragged into a double bear hug which included a serious bit of groping, hair tussling and led to some serious kissing and I had no doubt that they had missed me as much as I had missed them. Or rather certain parts in them were telling me that. Marzia coughed behind us and we all turned to look at her. I was a little embarrassed, but the boys were not fazed by the interruption. In a little overly animated manner, one brother raised his arm and produced a bunch for flowers. They were obviously gas station bought but the cheesy look of his face was priceless.
Marzia sighed and was an effigy of the ‘heart-eyes’ emoji; she is embarrassingly easy to please. The other brother mimicked his brother’s gesture and, with an identical cheeky grin, produced a bottle of Tito’s vodka. This wasn't going to end well and Marzia knew she would be unconscious before the rest of us. Marzia took both gifts and ushered the boys to the sofa. Neither sat down. I now had to work out who was who and allocate a shirt colour.
“Marzia, you remember Oliver and Armie.” I said with my eyebrow raised, hinting to Marzia who played along and ask one “Oliver?” “Nope, that’s the ugly one!” Armie who was in a red shirt said. She giggled at him and Oliver’s attempt at a horrified look. He was in a grey shirt. I put an arm around his back to sooth his mock displeasure which led to him sliding his arm over my shoulder and he shot his brother a look. Ok, something is going on here! I don’t want to play the game of favourites.
“Armie, can you help me with the pizzas.” I enquired, and walked away from Oliver, grabbing Armie’s shirt as I walked past him and he let me lead him to in the galley kitchenette. “So are we making real pizzas?” he asked. I nodded in the affirmative. As he looked over the ingredients in small bowls he asked. “Where’s the pineapple?”
I was gobsmacked but not surprised. Americans don’t know how to make pizza. They make cheese filled discs with everything that they can find in the fridge, piled on it. It was time to educate these two pizza heathens. Marzia brought Oliver up to the other side of the counter as I explained how to make real pizza.
Italian pizza as with all Italian food is about respect for yourself and the suppliers who have toiled to bring you the nicest produce. Its not about gorging yourself with everything that you can fit into your food. It’s about choosing a single ‘champion’ ingredient for the dish, and the course will celebrate the mastery of its flavour and quality. Every other ingredient in the meal is chosen to compliment and assist in showing off the ‘champion’. Nothing is to fight its flavour or override it, only to enhance and compliment it. Pizza is an art of taking simple ingredients and combining them in such a way that it will bring people together and make the world feel safe and loved,” I explained. I know these were grand statements but that how I was taught to love my food and cooking.
“My family has the most wonderful cook Mafalda, she is more like an aunt, but she is Neapolitan and swears like a trooper and will slap anyone (irrespective of age) who says a cross word to her. Her food is the most magical thing in the world. I will never match her skills but when I make pizza, I like to think I am honouring this extraordinary woman.” I wiped a tear from my eye. I didn’t realise how much I missed Mafalda until that moment. Fortunately, it wasn’t long until I would be reunited with my family over the summer vacation. As I spoke, Marzia had poured wine into glasses for us and so she led a toast. “To Mafalda and her cooking!”, we all repeated her toast and the boys cheered. I felt the warm glow of comradery.
“We will begin with the Margherita. This is a pizza that was created in 1899 when Queen Margherita came to Naples. She was visiting to get away from a cholera epidemic that was ravaging northern Italy at the time.” I said.
“Is there anything you don’t know?” Oliver asked me. “Oh… Oliver, there are so many things I know nothing about. Like the things that matter!” I stated blankly.
“What things… Things like this?” He said and grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me hard across the counter. I wasn’t sure if it was to stop me lecturing them about Italian culture or because he was forgetting what I tasted like. He tasted of wine and toothpaste and that ‘twin taste’ that warmed my belly every time I sampled it.
We let Marzia choose the movie. The four of us squeezed on to her sofa to eat. It was a three-seater but I knew it would be better when one of us got up to get the pizza. It was me of course who would get it. Our appetites were whet by the delicious smells coming out of the oven. Cutting up the pizza into small triangles, I placed it on the coffee table, and we all dove in. Armie commented about how crisp and thin the base was. I explained that it was from the use of a pizza stone and how I had bought mine from home, but left it here with Marzia, so I wouldn’t have to carry it about too much and potentially break it. The grunts and groans from the twins were music to my eats. Both Marzia and I got a piece each and then the pizza was gone. I went back to get the next one into the oven. I didn’t explain this one to them or its origins but would before they inhaled it. Quattro Stagioni (Four Seasons), was my favourite and also had a great story to it. I wondered to myself if this would be the first time the twins would have artichoke hearts. I knew they would realize that as they consumed these pickled hearts, that they were also consuming mine.
As I headed to the toilet, I couldn’t help but hear everything from the small room off the living space. In my absence Marzia had begun questioning the boys in a tone something akin to motherly concern. “So, what is your intentions with young Elio. I will not sit by and watch you two stomp on in your size 15 boots and use that lost little Italian boy. What will you do with him once you are done, throw him away?”
I could hear the theatrical gasps coming from one of the twins. It was most likely Oliver. In an indignant tone he said “What do you mean our intentions? Elio has been very forward in describing what he desires from us. You have no idea how forceful he can be in the bedroom.” Pausing for effect before continuing, “We should ask you, what is his intention with us?”
The other brother continued, “He is all ease and European politeness and could be leading us on a merry dance. Which will leave us abandoned, and heartbroken when he goes home. Does he always act so forward with the men he meets in bars or should we think ourselves lucky? Will he decide on the spur of the moment that we are not cultured enough for him?”
I heard Marzia stammer out something incoherent before she fell into the twins’ trap. I wanted to dash out there and stop her before she said too much but I was also intrigued by the discussion. “I think you will find that Elio has lost his heart to you two and we all know it” I heard her say. I wanted to scream at her to shut up but couldn’t act like I had heard any of this. I flushed the toilet as loud as I could and washed my hands as equally quickly. I burst in and the conversation stopped. I couldn’t believe Marzia’s indiscretion! The twins did not need to know this much information this early on in our friendship. She was such a sucker for those two and would have told them everything if I hadn’t got there. I would have to talk to her about what she can tell people about this thing, but it was not the time to do that.
The boys and I took up residence on the couch, both smirking at me and I acted like I didn’t know what had just happened. Marzia choose to sit alone on the bean bag. We had eaten so much pizza and were all sated. Armie slipped his arm around my shoulders and Oliver was half laying on me, fiddling with my shirt buttons in an absentminded way. These two giant figures took up so much space but somehow I didn’t feel crowded. The movie was obvious and terrible but had a killer soundtrack.
Marzia had given me a wink as she put it on. ‘Threesome’. Oh my god Marzia!
The cast featured a young Josh Charles, who Armie thinks is cute and that he would like to have some beers with. Then there is a Baldwin brother, whose only ability is from his good looks and could have been played by a cardboard box. The standout performance was by Lara Flynn Boyle, who spends most of the film fighting with her mid-west accent. By the time of the sexy skinny-dipping scene, we get to see the most flesh of the whole movie and I couldn’t help but think as I looked at that Baldwin’s ass, I am sitting very close to two much better ones. All men may be ruined for me now. I will be cursed to spend the rest of my life comparing them to the beauty that I have in my arms right now.
As the end credits come up, Marzia has fallen asleep and Armie made the drink gesture. The vodka was smooth, but we needed to put Marzia to bed and go on our way. We three piled into Armie’s truck and drove off to the other party. Some girl called ‘Keshena’ that Armie studies with was throwing a gathering. He told us all about her and how he loved her but she was a little intimidating as she talked way too much about books that he had never read. I was intrigued as I loved to talk about books.
As we drove, I couldn’t help but think of the conversation that the boys had with Marzia. I knew I couldn’t let on that I knew what was said but as I had drunk a little wine and some vodka, my intentions and my actions didn’t line up. I began, “So… You’re worried about me going home over the summer?”
“You did hear that then!” Oliver asked.
“The walls are paper thin, and Marzia was screaming.” I said. She wasn’t but I tried to make it sound more innocent.
“Yeah, actually. I know this is really way too early, but we all get on so well, and I think we understand each other.” Armie says.
“Pull over!” I growl. The street was a quiet side street. Armie did what he was told, for a change. They started to try and justify themselves. I undid my seatbelt, Oliver went to open the door and I stopped him. He must think that I am feeling unwell. Instead I kissed him and began to undo his pants, once his cock was out, I went for his brother’s zipper. I was hungry to taste them again. Oliver shuffled across the bench seat, so that I had less distance to travel to grab him as well. My mouth was around Armie’s dick and it grew from my sucking action. He let out a sigh. Sliding up and down its immense length, I stroked quickly Oliver’s matching prick. Switching between them in the cramped confines of the cab made it not the easiest of things to do, but I am nothing if not determined.
As I moved between them, I demanded they kiss each other and I was in total awe of the beauty of them kissing for me. My own dick cursed me as it fought the confines of my trousers, but this time was not about me. As Armie started to grunt, while I was sucking Oliver, they both came simultaneously. Releasing so much spunk which they somehow managed to confine to their own pants but I lapped as much of it as I could. I was eager to ensure they would be presentable to the host and the other guests of the party.
Only a few minutes later Armie pulled back onto the road, he looked to his brother and said, “We are in so much trouble with this one Oliver. Elio will be the death of us.” His brother could only nod in agreement. No words could explain his post orgasmic expression.
This chapter got way too long and needed to be split in two.
Chapter 5: Friday night to Saturday morning - part two
Elio and the twins go to a party at the house of a study buddy of Armie's and Elio seizes the opportunity to show the boys some of his other abilities.
Maurice Ravel’s ‘Miroirs’ suite, ‘Une Barque sur l'océan’.
You may want to listen to this before reading this chapter.
Armie gave the front door a firm knock and we were welcomed into the hall by a strikingly beautiful woman. Armie began “Hi, I’m Armie. You must be Currer, Keshena’s sister. It’s so nice to meet you,” extending a large hand her way.
“Man, you are huge and damn cute!” She looked past me toward Oliver, “And there are two of you! More than enough to go around.” Currer said with a chuckle.
She pulls out a roll of ‘Hello, My Name is…’ stickers, “Everyone is wearing one of these.” She wrote Armie’s name with a little heart after it and pasted it on to his chest. “Hell-OOO Armie!” She said. Emphasizing the ‘O’ sound with her lips open and full. She was definitely flirting with him.
Armie continued the introductions in a slightly overly excited way, appearing a little intimidated. “And this is Elio and Oliver.” She produced two more stickers for me and Oliver, after checking ‘Eli-ooo’ was spelt right. Because of the order she wrote them in, I became Oliver and Oliver became Elio. Oliver was delighted by this turn of events. For some bizarre reason he liked calling me by his name. “Come on Oliver.” He said with the biggest grin, “Let us sort you out a drink. You do look thirsty, Oliver!”
He slapped both his hands on my shoulders and pushed me past our host and down the hall. I liked his hands on my shoulders. I could face anything with these two, so close at hand.
We peered into each room as we passed and noticed the party was less of college style party and was more akin to a ‘bohemian soiree’. People were quite a mixed crowd, all different ages and backgrounds and were arranged in small groups who were talking, or drinking, some dancing and others just relaxing on cushions. I heard about four different languages being spoken and felt totally at home. As we passed the parlor, I noticed an old but well-loved upright piano. I registered its location for later, maybe I could impress the boys with my musical abilities.
In the kitchen were the most delicious snacks; bean burgers, homemade pita chips and fresh hummus. I was worried about coming to a party with people I don’t know, but as everyone was really chilled and doing their own thing, I felt completely at ease, plus, I had my two boys so I could relax, or so I thought.
I realized Armie wasn’t with us. We found him in the hall arguing with Currer about some book or other she was editing. She was staring up into his deep blue eyes and she had him trapped in the corner with his back against the wall. That would be fine except she had her hands firmly planted on his hips. My green eyed monster came out and I decided it would be my job to secure his release.
“Armie, there you are!” I bellowed, “Keshena was looking for you. Thank you for taking care of him Currer.”
I pulled him from her clasps. She begrudgingly released him, giving him a sassy pat on his backside as he passed her. He babbled something about how cool and intense that was. I realized that I couldn’t leave either of them alone.
With drinks in hand we found Armie’s study buddy Keshena holding court in her library. She was surrounded in books and crystals and a small collection of eclectic people. They were discussing how classical literature had influenced E.M. Forster’s novels. I was in my element and drew on my childhood spent reading the classics with my father at archeological digs all over the Mediterranean. This coupled with my voracious appetite for reading classics meant I had read most of Forster’s novels. The twins were almost instantly out of their depth.
For the first time since I had moved to the States I was having the type of conversation that I would have regularly had at home. Our family’s ‘dinner drudgery’, as I called it, would entail my father inviting numerous dinner guests – lawyers, authors, shipwrights or local shop keepers to the house. Our family would throw everything we had at them, the topics were varied and mostly of their choosing. I hated it but it meant I was used to discussing anything with anyone. Oliver and Armie sidled up to me as I sat on the floor and passed me another cocktail, which spurred me on. I was out to impress them tonight.
I argued the classical Italian influence on the English university system and their obsession with the classical literature meant that when Forster was romanticizing and reminiscing it was always of Italy and the classical world and that drove him to structure his novels in the same way as the Ovid or Homer did. This romanticized notion of freedom of the classical world could also be seen in his peers like Waugh or Lawrence.
Keshena and I were sharing a moment. I basked in her deep coco eyes – these girls were quite captivating. Asking if I studied literature, I told her I like books but love music, hence I was studying music. This led on to me explaining the work that I had been doing on some of the pieces that Maurice Ravel had produced for the ‘Société des Apaches’ movement in France.
Here came my chance to impress the Twins and the rest of the audience. “Do you want to hear something that I am working on?” She said she would be delighted to hear it. We all walked through the house to the parlor and collected other party goers as we went. They arranged themselves around the old upright piano and I took to the stool.
I prayed to any god listening that this instrument wasn’t too out of tune. To ensure a good show, I had decided to play the third part of Ravel’s ‘Miroirs’ suite, ‘Une Barque sur l'océan’. The nature of the piece would allow for if the piano was a little out of tune and not be very noticeable to the audience. Armie and Oliver lent against either side of the piano like protective gargoyles and intently watched my hands as I tested out the piano and its tuning. It was in surprisingly good working order and no keys stuck.
As I began to play, I let the music flow out of me in waves of intensity drifting over the keys like raindrops hitting the sea during a summer storm. Building with confidence, the music and I acquainted ourselves with the piano. The piano responded perfectly. Upon arrival in the middle slower section, I had time to look up into the twins’ faces. They were in pure raptured awe; Oliver’s eyes had become glassy and Armie’s mouth hung open and I watched his tongue run along his bottom lip as he considering the music as I continued to play. The key ‘twinkling water’ theme kicked back again and I watched the recognition play over their faces and their eyes darken with what could have been lust. I had seen the same look on their faces as my mouth passed over their cocks not an hour ago.
To bring it home, in the final third, I played up the drama of the conflicting notes and changing mood innate to the piece, cranking up the tension, to only in the last slide back into the key theme for one last reprise. The final note hung in the air like a seabird and Armie and Oliver burst back from their passive positions and riotously applauded me. It was little overdramatic for the small room but it was totally appreciated by me. They bellowed “Bravo” and looked like they could possibly burst into tears as they clapped. Their enthusiasm was infectious and the small ensemble guests clapped for me too.
I asked the host, whose eyes were large and wide with delight, if I should go on. She nodded in the affirmative and I decided to change it up into an old Italian drinking song. One that compares the size of the glass that the protagonist is drinking from to the ample breast of the host and the hard decision of which he would prefer drink from. The crowd erupted again into applause. Keeping it light, I slid next into the classic ‘Mambo Italiano’ which had many listeners singing along and a few even danced. I was a little tired from playing and needing a break. Keshena congratulated me and then gave me a huge hug for my near perfect playing. Oliver offered me a large drink of some sort. He winked at me and whispered, “This will put hairs on your chest!” Delivered with a light shoulder bump. I think he was trying to get me drunk again.
The three of us took up the back steps of the house. Armie could smoke freely back here and Oliver could wax lyrically about the stars and their meaning in ancient philosophy. The moon peaked out from behind a copse of trees and I felt Armie’s hand slide around my waist. He was very close and asked in a serious tone, “How did you make that old piano sing like that?”
Oliver continued his thought, “I had to keep looking inside it to see that you actually were playing it.” He lent in and kissed his way along my jaw. I mumbled something which ended with both Armie and Oliver halting my mouth. For the first time I could taste the difference between them. Armie had the slightly bitter taste of nicotine and Oliver had a sweet liquor flavor. I decided that from now on, I would have to passionately kiss them to tell them apart. Oh, what a cross to bear.
“If this is the response that I get for playing for you, please remind me to do it again.” I sighed.
Between kisses and caresses and stroking, I emboldened to ask them to clarify what this thing between us is. I began, “So how have your other boyfriends coped with you too being so passionate and cuddly?”
Armie began with a small sigh of annoyance. It was not directed at me but the memory, “They haven’t!” he continued, “We have tried various ways of dating; singularly or together. Always the guy or guys would get jealous of our thing, the twin thing.”
Oliver interjected, “Some thought it was weird or too much. So what, if we always want to be together. One dickhead even tried to get between us. We haven’t dated for years.” Armie finished his sentence for him. “It’s easier that way. No one gets hurt and we get to have fun, without any bullshit.”
Armie turned to me with a look of concern on his face which slowly turning playful, “So is this the point where you tell us you think,” making air quote signs, “We are really great guys, but you really like me more than Oliver?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The shadow of the words as he said them, even though in jest, passed across their clear blue eyes like the shadow of a bad memory. This comment had been played out for them before.
I needed to make some grand gesture to show them how I was feeling. How full of desire I was for them. I stood up and took one of their hands in both of mine and brought them to me heart. I wanted to explain that it couldn’t be further from the truth. “How could I choose which of my hands was my favorite? You can function with just one, but with two, you can fill the world with music and love.”
My heart was beating very fast. They reacted as you would have expected.
“Are you saying what I think you are saying?” They pulled me into a gigantic double bear hug, which saw me caressed and passed over their firm bodies. It ended up with me cradled in their gorgeous strong arms, my face peppered with little kisses. I guess we had decided that the three of us were now dating.
Saying our goodbyes to our hosts Keshena and Currer, we promised visit again and I expressed my gratitude for letting me crash their wonderful soiree. We walked away from the house with our arms around each other. A band of brothers, a trio of lovers. Full of new love and lust, driving us on to be entwined again.
Oliver fumbled in his jacket and pulled out a large banana. He had obviously stolen it from the house. The yellow skin slid smoothly down my cheek. “Where do you plan to stick that?” I asked.
“Just you wait and see Eli-o!” and gave his brother one of their knowing looks.
I felt the flush of a blush rise up my neck and engulf my face. I knew I wasn’t going to get to sleep anytime soon and would wake up like the previous morning, sticky, sated and entwined in their magnificent bodies.
This chapter is dedicated to Keshena and her sister Currer. Armie still hasn't recovered.
I got a little stressed about how slow this story was moving along very quickly and then I realised that it has only been just over 24 hours since they have met. So I have to just run with it and let the boys take me on merry dance. Please enjoy and comment.
Chapter 6: Saturday lunch with the ‘rents!
The merry trio arrive home for some serious cuddling and are woken to partake in Saturday lunch with the twin's parents. Announcements are made.
Trigger warning: This is another one of those chapters. If you want to avoid gay sex and twincest, skip to the first ***. The other two thirds as not worth missing.
The three of us ended up in bed without all the performances and teasing of the previous morning. Oliver had practically ripped my jeans off me before burying his face in my pubes. Armie lifted me off him and on to his own lips, before delicately depositing me on their bed. The pair of them leaping to either side of me, trying to force me their way.
They were very competitive and hungry for my mouth and my attention. I kissed deeply into one and then the other. I tasted nicotine and knew who it was, “Armie.” I moaned.
“Nope, I’m Oliver… but you can call me, Elio!” he replied.
I felt an awkward blush rise and stated, “I thought you didn’t smoke!”
“I don’t!” He said matter of factly, “I bummed one from him when we were outside.”
“Don’t worry Oliver, just call us by your name and we will call you by ours.” He said. I must have had a look of wonder on my face because they both kissed me hard.
“What could be more intimate than giving over your name as well as your body,” Armie continued.
I tried it out, “Elio… Elio… Elio… Elio… Eli-oooo!” I moaned as Armie slid his hand down my body and cupped my balls.
The names ‘Oliver’ and ‘Armie’… echoed back at me in deep melodious voices. In the darkened room it was almost like a game of Marco Polo, calling each other’s name and responding with a thrust or a lick or a caress. The base baritone of the twins’ voices reverberated through my body as they slid over and around me. I was now being cocooned in their voices as well as their bodies.
Oliver licked up his brother’s cock before his mouth come to rest on mine. It jolted as the blood rushed through it. “Oh you do have a thing for this twin thing, don’t you?” he asked before licking the tip my cock which responded again to his touch.
“Yes, I think he would like something like this,” Armies said as he grabbed one of Oliver’s feet and slurped noisily on his brother’s instep. My dick bounced with the excitement again. I had lost all control over that thing between my legs. A deep guttural laugh came from Oliver; I couldn’t tell if it was from ticklish feet or my knob’s reaction to them touching each other. I try to mumble something before stating, “I am sick, aren’t I?”
Armie snarled, “I wish everyone was as sick as you!” and with that he lent over me and pulled his brother into a deep wet kiss. Their hands ran through each other’s hair and cupped a jaw or the shoulder of the other. This was all a bit too much of a good thing for me, I began to feel a little faint. I sighed, “I never knew that I had a thing for twins, maybe its only a thing for you two?” I moaned, “What if it’s become a preference, and you have ruined me for all other men?”
“A groan rumbled somewhere deep inside both of them as they turn their icy blue gaze on me. Their glistening mouths came down on me. Covering my shoulders, my cheeks, my ears and my lips, with their wet saliva. When they reached my chin and chest the kisses had become little bites. They were consuming me! I was being smothered or compressed with their lust. I was dissolving into them, just as they had consumed my name.
When one of them nipped my nipple, unexpectedly my hips bucked and the muscles controlling my prostate spasmed and unloaded the most incredible torrent of spunk up our bodies, the spray of which managed to hit each of us somewhere. Flying over the top of them it landed on my face. This enormous first blast was quickly followed by a second and then a third. The force behind each successive stream reduced exponentially and so the spatter was reserved for the two of them alone. I felt dizzy as my jizz dribbled down my cheek.
By the fourth spasm, the emission was reduced to a lazy trickle from the eye of my cock. Which was licked up almost as quickly as it left my body. I tried to apologize and express my embarrassment, which they reciprocated with a barrage of giggles and a serious peppering of kisses. Armie declared he was blinded in the first volley and may never see out of his eyes again. I rolled into a ball and buried my face in the pillow. I had never been so embarrassed by my uncontrollable body. My muffled apologies fell on deaf ears or rather on laughing ears. “Don’t worry Armie, I will let you be my ‘seeing eye’ boyfriend!”
I stopped and lifted my head at the word ‘boyfriend’. It’s the first time that he had used the term and I liked the sound of it coming from his mouth. “So, am I still your boyfriend? Even if I make such a mess?” I asked needing reassurance.
They both leapt up on the bed, using one hand against the other twin for support and with the free hand to tug furiously on themselves. “If you want to see mess, just you wait a second and we will show you a mess!” one of them said.
My body reawakened and lazily stiffened again at the sight of them towering over me. Their muscles tensioned and their soft sacks bounced below their rapidly moving fists. The sight was hypnotic. Their perfectly domed asses covered in a fine downy layer of dark blonde hair, flexing as they balanced on the mattress. Wrapping an arm around the other to keep themselves upright, they moaned into each other’s mouths their own name and then they smothered me in their hot juices.
We drifted off to sleep entwined in each other, happy in our post orgasmic haze. I thought about that banana from earlier asking them. “What ever happened to that stolen banana?”
“I ate it before we got in the house,” one said. The other continued, “The greedy guts only let me have one bite! Where were you planning to stick it?”
Nothing was safe around these two! I have no idea how these boys who I meet a few days ago could drive me to do things that I had never imagined. How do they always manage to reduce me to a puddle of sweat and cum and laughter? And why have I never felt such a feeling of ease, horniness and expectation of what will happen next?
We drifted off to sleep entwined and totally sated.
We were woken by the sound of their Mom knocking on the door. “Boys you have only half an hour to shower before lunch is ready. Elio, I have set a place for you too!”
One of the boys groaned in reply at the door.
I mouth at them, “How did she know I was here?”
“Oh derr, she isn’t an idiot and she would have seen your size 7 ‘Campers’ at the door.”
“She is all seeing, isn’t she?” I hissed.
They nodded in the affirmative. Why was I still whispering? I didn’t know.
Armie kissed my neck and Oliver’s hand cupped my groin as he rolled over. This was a splendid sight of them naked and lazy. Their smell filled my senses and I started to get hard again, until it hit me.
I sat upright with a start. “What am I going to wear?” I asked with a gasp.
I only had the shirt and jeans that I was wearing last night and that wouldn’t do for a ‘meet the parents’ lunch. “We can lend you something.”
Armie sprung from the bed, his ass bouncing towards their wardrobe. He produced a blue ‘button down’ collared short. “It’s nothing fancy, just lunch Saturday lunch with the ‘rents!”
Oliver continued, “It’s a tradition!”
I must have looked petrified as Oliver nuzzled my neck and lifted me towards the door. “Shower time… Oliver!” He said with a smirk and gave me a small pat on the ass. It was so sweet I wanted to kiss that smirk off his face.
I made my way to the bathroom. I practiced my greetings in the mirror, before trying to wash the night before’s emissions off my body. I was surprised to find it in my hair, down my back and caked in my leg hair!
I splashed on a little of their expensive smelling aftershave and checked myself over in the foggy mirror. His shirt was way too big for me, but it felt nice to be wearing something that smelt like them.
I had two large hands on both of my shoulders and the twins towering over me as we entered the kitchen. I was greeted by Mrs S who was working at the counter. Mr S was sitting casually at the table with a cup of coffee. He looked up from the table at us in the doorway. He was tall and blonde just like the boys and that was where they got most of their handsome features from. But not their magnetic eyes — they had their mother’s crystal blue eyes.
“Dad, this is our Elio.” they both said in unison pushing me forward. I liked that they used the possessive term ‘our’ about me. But now this left me standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“Good morning Elio. I’m Michael, come and sit down.” Their father said and in an overly theatrical way he patted the seat next to him for me. I could see where they got their grandiose gestures from.
Mrs S. had produced a mountain of food. Roast chicken and vegetables, shining like gold treats in the light. The twins helped carry the plates of deliciousness to the table and my mouth watered at the sight. I am sure that the table groaned under the weight of the enormous meal. Once the carving was complete, we all filled our plates.
“So where did you meet these two knuckleheads?” The boys’ father asked, while affectionately ruffling one of his son’s still damp hair.
“It was in a nightclub called ‘La Danzing’. The Dj is really good and the drink specials make the crowd really happy and affectionate,” I answered quickly.
He chuckled to himself. “Were these two causing a public menace, or was that just their dance moves committing crimes against humanity?”
“Actually, they knocked me off my feet with their ecstatic dancing!” I corrected him, and softly chuckled to myself at my play with words. “We instantly hit it off.”
Michael said, “Your company had definitely made an impression on this household. When I came home on Friday night, all I heard was ‘Elio this and Elio that’ from these two, but what was even more surprising was my loving wife, gushing about this handsome Italian she had to the breakfast table. Where in Italy are you from?”
“I went to school in Milan. My father lectures in archaeology at the university. But my favorite place in the world is our holiday house in B. near Crema. We usually spend our summers and winter vacations there,” I said. “The house overlooks the ocean and is surrounded by fruit trees of all different sorts.”
“That sounds idyllic. What things do you do in B.?” he asked, encouraging me to go on.
“We have a large family who loves to visit and take advantage of our gorgeous beach. So we eat, talk, argue, swim, play a variety of sports. When that all gets too much, I like to sit and read in the shade of our trees or play music. It is very special place. I didn’t realize how much I have missed it until I spoke to my parents about our plans for the summer,” I said getting a little more emotional than I expected.
Armie put his hand on my shoulder and Oliver rubbed my knee in a sympathetic way.
“Our plans have changed this year, we usually have an international graduate student stay over the summer, but this one has had to cancel. My Father likes to give the grad student a space to complete their thesis or a book and they repay him by assisting him with his filing. I actually think he does it so he can delve into a younger person’s perspective on his work and ideas,” I went on.
Was I boring them? They didn’t look bored.
He replied, “It’s very generous of your family to take on a student like that.”
I explained, “When my father was at a similar stage, an Aunt sent him to Paris to stay with a family friend who introduced him to various academics and ultimately led to my parents meeting in an art gallery.” I looked to the twins to see if this too much, as they hadn’t said anything for a long time and realized they were sitting in stunned awe.
Armie piped up, “Dad, Elio’s family are all quite brilliant, but you should have seen him last night, he was so amazing. There was this old upright piano at the party and Elio made the thing sing. It was so beautiful.”
Oliver continued, “He played this incredible piece by Ravel that was like being on the sea. It had people in tears. He was so good.”
“I didn’t see anyone crying!” I retorted trying to play down their praise.
“Obviously you weren’t looking at Oliver! If you played one more note, he would have been a blubbering mess.”
“Leave your brother alone, Armie. He has always been moved by music!” Mrs S sprung to Oliver’s defense. “I remember a young man cried at the last bite of a birthday cake!”
“You get a little over emotional after the most delicious Cayman rum cake… ever! And… and… and even your own Mom never lets you forget it!” he grumbled.
She then turned to change the subject, “I would love to hear you play.”
A little embarrassed by all this praise and attention, I looked down at me plate, and realized my food was getting cold as I had spoken for so long. I promised to bring my keyboard next time I visited.
“So tell me Elio, is Italy worth a visit?” he asked.
“Of course it is!” I enthused. “The food, the wine, the history and the culture. Everything!”
“Judith and I had been thinking about where we should holiday this summer and thought a couple of weeks in Italy might do us the world of good. Oliver has been on at us about a ‘grand tour’ for years and your description of B. was the final straw. Will you help us plan where to go and what to see?” he said matter of fact.
I looked to the twins who were in slack-jawed awe. Their expression was unreadable. “Boys do you want to come to Italy with your mother and me?”
The boys launched out of their seats and embraced their parents. I took that as yes.
I was so excited. “You will have to come to B. In fact, it’s a good location to base yourself. You can take fast trains to Rome or Milan or Florence and of course Venice. I will ask my parents, I am sure they would love to have you all stay. This will be so great to show you Italy,” I gushed.
“So long as your parents approve and won’t feel invaded,” Mrs S stated honestly.
“They will love you all. I promise. We can skype them tonight.”
“This silence from my sons is very disturbing,” the twins’ parents laughed heartily.
The computer whined and bleeped until my father picked up. I could hear Maman and Mafalda bickering in the background.
“Eli-Belly… I wasn’t expecting a call from you?” my father said.
Two identical giggles came from either side of me. “Eli-Belly!” They said in unison. I glared at them both. I ignored his question and enquired about the argument playing out behind him.
“Papa, what’s all that noise about?” Mafalda wasn’t happy and was letting us all know.
“We got concert tickets at the last minute and can’t stay for dinner. Mafalda is put out by it. We will have hell to pay until we make it up to her.”
I knew Mafalda’s tempers and how they would pass with just a kind word or a small treat.
“The reason why I’m calling is because I want you to meet my friends, Oliver and Armie.” The two boys squeezed into the frame beside me and filled it with gigantic grins and waving hands.
“Hello boys. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Wow, you two are enormous!”
“Papa, they are a force of nature. Oliver is doing graduate studies in ancient philosophy and Armie studies law,” I enthused to him rapidly.
“Annella, meet Elio’s friends.” My father called to her.
“Tesoro, ciao. You are looking well. Who are these two handsome men?” she squeaked at me, the way only a mother can.
“Maman, this is Armie and Oliver. The reason why I am calling is that the boys and their parents are thinking of visiting Italy this summer. We were wondering if it would be ok for them to stay a few days with us in B.” I asked, “I know the Czech student isn’t coming and so I thought as we will have the space, it would be fun to show them around,” I asked.
Mafalda stalked through the background of the screen. “Ciao Mafalda! Meet Armie and Oliver.”
Mafalda face joined my parents in the tiny screen. The light from my father’s phone gave them all a ghostly hue.
She told me in Italian that I looked too thin and that she had told my mother that it wouldn’t be long before I started hanging out with movie stars and gestured at the twins. “La Muvi stars!”
I watched Mafalda’s face light up and her eyes grew wide as both Armie and Oliver spoke to them about their studies. Papa quizzed Oliver about pre-Socratic philosophy making a very ordinary Dad-type philosophy gag. I groaned but Oliver broke up and almost fell over laughing hysterically. His reaction earned him a wink from my father, who was grinning from ear to ear. Armie didn’t understand the gag and focused on telling Mafalda that he couldn’t wait to taste her cooking as he had heard from me that it was the best food in the whole world. She cooed back at him and disappeared from the screen after turning a shade of embarrassed purple. How had the boys made them all love them in such a short time?
“Boys, we have to run or we will be late. Send us an email of your dates and Anchise will pick you up from the station,” my mother said and waved goodbye.
“Ciao Perlmans!” the boys said cheekily said in union waving madly.
Once we had hung up, I felt Oliver’s hand on my backside as he nuzzled into the back of my neck and Armie grabbed my face. Between little kisses he said, “This is going to be the best summer ever... Eli-Belly.”
I hope you have enjoyed this installment. Comment below and tell me your thoughts.
Oh and our Eli-Belly does have magic nipples.
Chapter 7: Leaving...
Elio's plane home is delayed for two hours and so he sits in a dodgy airport bar with the pirate twins and remembers the past six weeks.
I would usually hate a two-hour delay for a flight home but in this case, I was delighted to get more time with just Armie and Oliver. We sat in the dingey airport bar nursing our beers. An enormous hand on each of my knees. The nervous energy in their huge blunt fingers making my knees bounce. I was wearing the big blue billowy shirt the twins had loaned me for that first Saturday lunch. It smelt of them and was soft and warm and knew all our secrets. It would have to keep me company until they came to collect it.
We had said our goodbyes locked in the disabled toilet in the departure lounge before the delay was announced. I could still smell their ‘Roger and Gallet’ shampoo on my hands every time I moved them; I never wanted that smell to go away. Their smell, all citrus and soap and sunshine made me feel safe and warm and loved. I tried to slow time so I could memorize every single piece of them as they sat there. Oliver’s slight tilt of his head as he lent in to whisper his filthy thoughts to me and Armie’s grin as his hand inched up my leg, telling me more about what was also on his mind.
I am not going to cry. It would be only a week before they would join us in Italy. But it was very hard to end of my time in the US. I was to become European again.
The last six weeks had become a blur of activity. The completion of my degree was exhausting and exhilarating at the same time. The semester was completed with final assignments and the graduation performance. I played to the largest audience that I have ever performed for. As I walked on stage, I was to introduce our compositions before performing, which I found completely nerve-racking.
I had been inspired to produce a five-movement suite for solo piano like Maurice Ravel’s ‘Miroirs’. In his case, each piece was dedicated to the members of his group of friends. I had produced five variations on a similar theme dedicated to my American family. It was a surreal feeling to be explaining the piece so personal and private to a room full of people – this coupled with knowing the subjects of the pieces would also be hearing the pieces for the first time. I was shaking as I spoke but as I sat to play, I knew that this was for my loves and I wanted them to hear how much I loved them and that I was playing for them.
There was one movement for each of them. The first two movements for Michael and Judith, and the third and fourth interlocking and the loving. I have never written anything quite so luxurious and sensual, but it expressed how I saw my two lovers. The final movement was a little darker but grounding out the other four pieces, I had dedicated it to Marzia. None of this would have been possible without her.
The boys had heard tiny portions of the works as I fine-tuned them, but I will never forget the look of awe on their five faces as I stood and took my final bows. The four tall statures and one shorter one, standing applauding just a few rows back from the front. They were easy to spot in the crowded theatre, even if I couldn’t hear the whooping and cheering from Oliver and Armie. Their behavior was completely inappropriate for an evening of this type but not completely unexpected from my exuberant men.
Even with the bright lights in my face, I could see the tears that were shining on all their cheeks. Judith had taken me aside at the after party for the concert and asked me, “How did you see inside my heart, takes everything I love and turn it into music? You are so amazing. How can I repay such a beautiful gift?” She said as she ran the back of her hand down my cheek tenderly, tears forming in her eyes.
“The same way that I will be able to repay you for all your love and for producing such incredible men!” I said in a matter of fact way.
“Well let’s call us even, if you record it for me,” she retorted playfully.
I was so glad she liked it and promised to give her the recording of the songs that we would get from the sound booth.
Armie and Oliver completed their studies as well but their reaction to their excessive workload was so very different. Oliver became a machine, driven and focused. Reading and writing thousands of words a day. He reveled in his work and talked almost continually about what he was working on. Everything stopped for him to complete his thesis and finalize his research grants and prepare for his next stage. I was so proud of what he was able to achieve.
Armie, on the other hand, worked almost as hard which resulted in intimidating results, but he was sullen, moody and often just plain bad tempered. His heart wasn’t in the law. As the weeks wore on, he preferred to distract himself with the recipes from an old secondhand Italian cookbook. He was eternally in the kitchen making something or another and then force feeding the result to his family. We all ate extremely well while he was studying. I would receive almost daily care packages from either or both of the boys, as he tried to perfect the whole cookbook. Apparently, my opinion was the only one that mattered. No one else could give him a compliment for his labors.
I asked Mr. S. one evening what he thought was going on with his youngest son. After a moment of consideration, he replied, “He has always needed to believe in what he is doing and to throw his full heart into it. When he doesn’t, he is impossible to live with. I don’t think becoming a lawyer suits him.” With a sigh of resolve, “He will figure it out in time, that or he may kill us all from obesity.” We both laughed but it was slightly forced with concern for Armie.
Both families had begun preparing for the visit to B. in different ways. My weekly skype calls to my parents had turned into multi-screen group discussions with seven members on different screens. Judith and Maman’s main topic of discussion was ideas for tours and the sights that they must see. Papa and Michael worked together to try and narrow down the Mothers’ ideas and the reduce the considerable expense of their travel plans, but they never tried to stop their enthusiasm. I barely got a word in edgewise anymore.
Michael had decided to learn Italian and would quiz me for words and phrases every time we met. The Spanish that he had learnt in Latin America during his time in the peace corps had set him in good stead and he was learning quickly. His accent was stereotypically appalling but I enjoyed hearing him develop.
It turned out both sets of parents were in regular contact, either email, skype or phone calls. I only realized they had started to form solid friendships when I was summonsed to a dress shop in the city by my Mother. She and Mrs. S had been discussing clothes for the trip and I needed to help Maman see what Judith was trying on.
Forty minutes later I was still holding my phone up so she was able to see and discuss the suitability of the dozens of dresses and pants and shirts and shoes that Judith could buy. I came to the shocking conclusion that I was only a ‘Human-stand’ for the phone. They made plans to shop for more things in Milan when they were together. And hung up without any comment to me.
I told the boys that evening when we were having a few drinks together. “It’s not like I don’t have anything else to do with my time,” I complained.
“Our Moms are pure evil. Can’t believe they made you do that.” Armie laughed which led to us all laughing about how conniving it was.
“Only god knows what other horrors that they have planned for us over the summer,” I continued to whine.
“At least we will all be together,” Oliver replied. “Maybe we can run away?”
“I caught your Dad teaching my Dad Italian over skype last week,” Armie added. “Apparently it’s been going on for weeks.”
“This explains why his skills are improving so quickly!” I said bluntly.
I wanted to change the subject and talk about more fun things, like when were we were going back to their house. I had missed their physicality and needed to wake after being cuddled by them both, all night long.
The next time I spoke to my parents, I confronted them about going behind my back. They demanded that I not be jealous. They reminded me that it wasn’t easy for people of their age to make new friends. Explaining how they couldn’t just ‘go to a club’ and start talking to people like I could. They went on to explain that the fact that they had a lot of similar interests was a bonus to my friendship.
They also reminded me that it was me who had invited the whole family to stay in Italy in the first place. They were trying to placate me and flatter me. They contested the fact that they liked the family, even before they had met them, was evidence that I am good judge of character.
I bashfully explained that it was the twins who chose me to be their friend and not the other way around. I explained how I had been out voted on the night we met. This drew the heartiest laughter from my own parents and left me even more irritated. I demanded that they not conspire against me again. They swore they wouldn’t do anything behind my back again. I knew this was a lie.
Of course, my parents told Oliver and Armie’s parents which led to another little chat. I was taken aside, and they explained how special I am to them and how they knew the boys were quite set on me. They explained that they had reached out because they thought the parents of such a lovely man were people they should get to know.
Armie, the eternal optimist and professional manipulator, explained this as being great for us. We wouldn’t have to worry about our parents not getting along and it would mean we could spend more time with just the three of us. He was right as usual, but I was still irked by the whole sneakiness of the situation. Oliver said I was sounding like a brat and so I bit him. That will teach him to call me names.
During my last week, I moved into the spare room at the twins’ house but stayed in their bed. It meant we could clear out my little apartment. Clean it, give the keys back and ship most of my belongings home. With any luck most of it should arrive before me. My small group of friends had a couple of gatherings to say goodbye. I felt totally numb as my imminent departure got closer.
On my last night Armie had decided to cook for Marzia and me. Marzia was a mess as soon as she sat down and then after a couple of glasses of wine, she was sobbing uncontrollably. It was time for her to go home when she started to make me cry as well.
The boys and I stood with her in the front garden as we waited for her Uber and in true Marzia fashion she grabbed both boys by the collar and dragged them down to her eye level. Spitting with extreme venom at them. “I will fucken kill the both of you if you break his fucking heart! Do you understand me?” she waited for them to nod, “And I fucken love you both too much to lose you now. We must stay friends!”
“Friends forever!” they both replied with the hugest shit eating grins.
Both Oliver and Armie were laughing their heads off by the time the car drove away. “She really can’t hold her drinks, poor Marzia.”
“You have no idea. She hadn’t tried to hug the life out of you, like she did to me.” I complained to them.
This made them both hug me in the usually twin fashion and I felt their plans for the rest of the evening press into me through their jeans.
The call came for me to head through customs and board my plane. Oliver and Armie stood and tried to smile, but it was as hard for me as them. Solemnly we walked toward the sliding door. We said goodbye and I put on my backpack and walked away. I then realized I didn’t know any one here and wouldn’t be back any time soon. So fuck it! I ran back and jumped on them wrapping my arms around their necks squashing them into a sloppy and very public three-way kiss. “I love you so much Elio!”
There I had said it. I ‘Love’ them. Almost instantly came the reply I needed to hear. “We love you too Oliver/Armie!” each of them earnestly replied.
Turning away from them was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I rushed through to the gate. They didn’t need to see me cry again.
My seat was in the window and I was grateful for its space and used it as a bit of a shield. My phone vibrated and I looked at the message.
NEWS FLASH: Elio Perlman loves the Pirate Twins.
I knew I was grinning like an idiot but decided to put my phone away before I made myself any more upset. The poor woman who was seated next to me, was Italian and was returning to Modena after visiting family. As the announcement came that they were closing the doors and cross checking, in spite of my best efforts the tears began to flow.
Slow and hiccupped tears at first and then the dams burst into ugly crying. The woman tried her best to sooth me, but I cried through the taxiing. As we took off, I cried harder. My tears were for the end of my University life and the two men that I loved more than anything in this world. It’s almost impossible to write how much I loved and the loss I was feeling for them. My body ached for their big strong hands on me and wanting to relive how happy we have been these last few weeks.
I was so grateful that we were going to spend summer together but then what? I didn’t know what I was going to do, nor what the future held for us. I cried for the ‘What if’ of my future life.
“If she loves you, she will wait for you!” the woman said seriously.
I must have given her a look that spoke volumes. She changed it to, “Or he will find his way back to you!”
I was unable to read her expression as I said, “I hope you are right, and my twins do come home to me!”
“Love will always find a way!” She said with a knowing nod.
Chapter 8: The arrival - Let the summer begin!
The twins and their parents arrive in Italy and they get a few surprises from what they find. The twins don't listen to Papa Perlman's advice!
Note: I am not going to trigger warn about sex anymore. If you have got this far, I guess you don't mind. Enjoying it... Comment.
I had stood gripping the glass barrier for 20 minutes before I noticed that my knuckles had turned white. I had demanded we set off early and be waiting as the plane landed. I could tell my parents weren’t completely happy with me being so demanding but acquiesced to my demands, for a little peace. It would have been torture for me to leave them standing around waiting for us to pick them up. Worse still if we were stuck in traffic and have them thinking that they had been forgotten.
The large white ‘arrivals’ sliding doors flung themselves open and I lurched forward searching faces, coming through the doors and then at the ones waiting in the queue for Customs. Just as quickly as they opened, they slid closed again. Papa held tight to the back of my neck, like he did when I was a small child walking through a large crowd. His firm hand was warm and protective. It was comforting to have both my parents with me as I waited to be reunited with my boys, my men, my loves.
Their plane had landed, and they should have been up to customs by now. I factored that maybe they were a bit delayed because they needed to visit the public conveniences and then collect their luggage, maybe get a little lost with which way was out. They would be the sort of people to let an old lady into the line in front of them and she would lose her passport and take forever to get it out of her bag. ‘Stupid old woman, get out of their way,’ I grumbled.
The door opened again and then again and then again. No sign of them. The door flung open and I saw them clearing the corner, the summer sun flooding into the space full of people in the queue. Time stopped still as I watched them walk towards us, like insects trapped in amber. All four of them resplendent in their beauty. Golden hair lit in the sun like halos on angels. Both boys wore tracksuits and made them look like celebrities or movie stars and one of them pushing a trolley piled high with suitcases and bags. “They hadn’t mentioned they were moving in,” I turned to say to my parents.
The door shut them out of our view again. On the next opening I pointed them out to my parents, who waved but they didn’t see us. It wasn’t until the doors opened for them that they saw us. I held a small sign
‘Italy welcomes the Pirate Twins!’
Their faces lit up at the sight of us standing there. Two gigantic figures barrelled towards us at speed, trolley crashing into the barrier.
Four gigantic hands were on my face and my neck as they drew me into rough hugged kisses, and it felt so good to have them back. They moved from me to hugging Papa and Maman, who laughed at their exuberance. Their own parents showed the usual level of reserve and watched their overly excited sons. Walking on either side of the barrier towards the end we were finally properly reunited, and I made the formal introductions.
We made our way through the carpark, arm in arm, the boys chatted happily about everything that was running through their minds. The sun was hot. The sky was very blue. The flight had been very long and very boring, but they couldn’t stop thinking that it was all worth it to see me again. How beautiful my Mother was and how much taller my Father looked in real life. Was it going to be a long drive to the house? How will we all fit in a car? My head was spinning by the time we arrived at the van.
Papa had decided to hire a minivan for the four weeks of their stay. It would be more practical than trying to squeeze us all into one or two small cars. I was grateful for his foresight after seeing how much luggage they had bought; we definitely needed the space. I had forgotten how long the twins’ legs were.
Anchise had studied for his bus licence when he was in the Army and so he became our bus driver and unofficial tour guide. As the two boys walked up to the small wizened man, they both drew him into a huge hug which by the look on his face was not completely unwelcome but quite a shock of the reserved older man. He commented in Italian, “They make everything oversized in America!”
The drive to B, saw us pass through fields of wheat, and wide expanses of farmland, which as we got closer to the coast changed into groves of olives and fruit trees. Michael with the best view riding shotgun up with Anchise, Papa behind him translating his descriptions of the landscape. The Mothers sat and gossiped happily while we three took over the large backseat.
We passed through small towns and villages and Anchise slowed the van as we came around a corner and we caught a glimpse of the Mediterranean Sea. The rock cliffs and sparkling water was picture postcard perfect. The boys insisted we stop and take a couple of photographs of the view with each of us in different combinations. I tried to explain that the views are better from the house.Not to dampened their excitement, I joined in smiling like an idiot in their images. I suspect there would be hundreds of photos of their holiday to come. Facebook and Instagram would be flooded over the next couple of weeks.
We drove through the avenues of coastal pines encircling the road that was so typical of this coast. As we rounded the headland, we pointed out the peninsular where our Villa stood at the end. Small boats and yachts skimming the aquamarine waters. They responded to the sights as you would expect, full of gasps and praise.
With Armie’s arms around my shoulder, Oliver was resting his hand on my knee and I could feel their excitement run through them as we got closer to our destination. Driving the narrow streets through B. we pointed out the key features and San Giacomo and its tower we called ‘To die for’.
Turning into our driveway through the heavy green iron gate and passing through the rows of trees along the gravel drive that crunched under the bus tires, the van took the last corner and the Villa was laid out in front of us. Graciously surrounded in grassed gardens and fruit trees laden with ripening fruit, it looked like paradise. The aged grandeur of the two towers gave the impression of a much larger house than it actually was, but I knew it was impressive. The van stopped in front of the portico and we all departed the van retrieving some of their luggage and carried it towards the house. Armie hissed into my ear, “You said your family owned a holiday house, this is a fucking palace!”
“It’s a Villa actually!” and blushed at the thought that I had misled them.
“It’s fucking gorgeous, whatever you call it!” Oliver said with a pat on my back.
“Let’s take your bags up and I will show you around,” I said.
Entering the house Mafalda was waiting for us and Armie released me and ran to hug Mafalda, taken aback by his exuberance. “Hello… Mr…” she stammered.
“Armie,” he said, “It’s so great to meet you. Elio says you are the best cook in the world.”
I had begun to translate, and she gestured me to stop. She pushed him off and patted his chest. Her eyes softened and I could tell she was more than a little besotted by him but wanted this over familiarity to stop. Oliver, learning from his brother, walked up slowly up and shook her hand, which she received with a happy smile and a quiet greeting. European reserve was something Armie would have to learn. It’s a good thing he is so handsome, so no real damage was done. She was then introduced to their parents by my parents.
Grabbing a bag, I bolted towards the stairs and took them two at a time. With a slight head start, I called for the boys to follow me, which they did almost instantly, collecting a couple of suitcases and joining in the chase. They made short work of the stairs and caught me before we hit the first floor. Slowing my pace at the landing, I showed them the door to their parents’ room, and on the other side of the stair is my parents’ room and then further down the hall towards the front of the house, our room.
Opening the tall outer door and then the second internal door, the light was streaming through the balcony doors. I pointed out the writing desk that I was sure Oliver would love to sit at, just as I have since I was child.
The two single bed bases that had stood in the room my whole life and many years before me had been pushed together and I replaced the mattress with a queen sized one, so it slightly hung off the base on either side. With a squeeze we would make do with this as our bed.
I pointed out the first door which was the bathroom that only the three of us would need to share and then the second door with led to the small room that I had moved my clothing into to allow the boys space for their clothes. I hadn’t expected them to have much luggage but with the three of us in here, it was a little bit of a tight squeeze.
I apologised for the pokiness of the room but was instantly silenced by a mouth on mine and another on my ear. I was pushed backwards onto the bed and was joined by their gigantic forms. Knees pushing between my legs and mouths moving over me. My shirt was dragged up as they took turns in peppering my stomach with kisses. “I missed you Oliver!” Oliver said.
“Oh, not as much as me, brother!” Armie replied.
In our week apart, we had tried to skype every day and even tried a sneaky bit of ‘skype-twin-sex’ but it felt creepy and voyeuristic. So, instead I let them just talk to me until I fell asleep. This was way better than stupid computer sex. I nuzzled into the two statuesque bodies that were safely in my world again. I was at last home, and that feeling would last as long as they were with me.
The day had been warm, and they exuded their pure essence overriding the nasty plane odour and I was in heaven encased in their magical musk.
I sat up as I heard the parents coming along the hall. My father encouraged the boys to get up and not sleep just yet or their jetlag would be hell. Their parents encouraged them to freshen up and change their clothes and then we would have a light dinner. I knew if I stayed, we would never eat and I left the boys to unpack and headed downstairs with my parents.
Sitting in the garden with a glass of apricot juice, I explained how embarrassed I was at how I had accidently misled the boys about our villa. My Maman cajoled me that they would have constructed an idea of a holiday house in their heads from their own experience. The Villa was not the conventional American holiday house like it was for us. Yes, it is a large house but one we inherited from her parents. It was the first time that I really noticed a big cultural difference between us.
After half an hour Michael and Judith found us sitting in the garden and joined us in our refreshment. They gushed about the views and orchards. We told them tales of our family and generation after generations planting their favourite fruits and the years of love and care that had created our garden. They commented again about how kind it was of us to have them stay. I explained that if they liked this, they would be blown away by how much more we had to show them. We started to discuss ideas of places to see and visits to make but first we should take some time to rest and acclimatise to the Italian summer heat.
“Where are those boys?” their mother asked. I offered to go chase them up.
I could hear them before I opened the door. Tandem snores emanated like two people sawing wood. I opened the door to find them entwined in each other on the bed, partially dressed, one sock on and one sock off like that nursery rhyme and lost to their slumber. Their beauty almost took my breath away. Their hair had darkened from their showers. I drank in the sight of them and watched their hands hold on tightly to the other and bodies perfectly aligned and balanced. How could I interrupt such innocence and peace? Closing the two doors silently behind me, I trudged downstairs alone.
After dinner I played some of the Ravel pieces I had been revising over the past semester. My parents hadn’t heard me play in so long that they were delighted to have me play a lot longer than I would usually. Unfortunately, the soporific nature of the pieces worked their magic and Michael and Judith were asleep in no time. They roused as my parents enthusiastically applauded my playing and we said our goodnights before all heading to our respective bedrooms.
On entering our room, I found the boys as I had left them. I opened the doors to the balcony to let the cool night breezes in and then shut the dark green louvered window shutters to keep the morning light out. I crawled into bed next to a twin and spooned into his body and his hand closed around mine. For what felt like forever I must have finally drifted off to sleep.
I was awoken sometime early in the next morning. It was still dark outside, and a large hand was around my cock, casually stroking it into life. It had responded of its own accord. I grumbled something about going back to sleep and both twins piped up about not being able to sleep. In hushed tones suitable to the hour I spoke of jetlag and that its best to try and get a regular sleeping pattern. In similarly whispered tones, they explained that they had had a vote and since I was asleep, they asked my dick which had sided with them. They informed me that it was a perfect time to have a ‘Welcome to Italy fuck’. I knew there was no point in trying to protest or disagree. This could also have to do with the fact that they had worked me up and I was hard and hungry for them. It had been way too long without them in my body in some way.
I grabbed the nearest face and hungrily kissed him, he let out a soft grown as he could tell how impatient I was to be coupled with them. I was roughly manhandled between them. I moved quickly from mouth to mouth and cock to cock and back again. They tugged the few clothes that they had on, off. We were done reacquainting ourselves with each other’s bodies. Their rigid cocks bucked as their hips grinded against me. Slimy trails of precum marked two lines over me as I moved towards the bedside draw for the lube and condoms. I knew we would have sex but didn’t expect it on the first night at 3am.
As they prepared themselves, I thrusted 2 heavily lubed fingers up my ass in an attempt to get things started as quickly as possible. The sting lasted for a few long seconds. Once over, I kneeled down in front of them, allowing whoever wanted to go first. One of them grabbed me and slipped himself deep into me. I let out a gasp as my body protested at the quick intrusion. As he began to slowly move in and out of me, the feeling gave way to pleasure.
He rolled with me still attached, so I was laying on his chest and he supped at my neck. In this position, I could take complete control of the speed and the depth as I ground myself down onto his throbbing prick. His brother slurped at my cock for a few seconds before protesting at being left out. His brother slid out of me with a grumble and held my legs wide for his brother, who lay on top, slipping deep into my depths. The brothers kissed next to me as the brother below clasped me tightly in his warm embrace. I wasn’t going anywhere.
My cock, which had started all this, leaked stickiness in its confinement between our bellies. He was hitting my prostate with his massive cock on each thrust and my orgasm grew somewhere behind my balls. I wasn’t going to last, and I felt him pulsate inside me. The twin I was laying on top of, nuzzled at my neck. His mouth grew wetter as he hammered against me and let out a long gasp as he came. The warm spunk landed somewhere near my ass.
He released me from his tight hold. I rolled in to kiss him, running my hands through both of their chest hair as we drew our breath. The warm evening making us sweaty added to the now damp bedding.
Exhausted, I had hoped that we would drift back to sleep but the boys had other ideas. They encircled me in kisses and nuzzled over my body, slipping parts of me in and out their mouth as they travelled. It was like they were washing away all the grime of the time we were apart. After they were satisfied, they moved back up the bed to take turns in kissing me, slow and languidly. Settling into each other’s bodies we drifted back into a restful peace. As my mind wandered, I puzzled over whether it would be possible to take both of them at the same time. The perviness of the thought made my dick bounce and I went to sleep imagining them both up there, driving deep into me. But fantasies and reality are two different things.
Chapter 9: Sipping the sweet nectar of summer love
The lazy summer days continue. The 'rents are not as oblivious to their romance as the boys think!
Please enjoy and comment.
This chapter is dedicated to all the Peaches who are visiting Crema at the moment. Your photographs and videos give me life.
Oh and to Michele Giacchetto, the most handsome Oliver of the 'Call me by your name' dance party!
During the first weeks at the Villa, the days ran into each other as we fell into a relaxed rhythm. A typical day entailed a morning jog or swim, ablutions, breakfast, working on something for a couple of hours before the heat got too oppressive and drove us into the pool. When we were called, we had a long lunch where Mafalda served delicious traditional Italian fare and lively conversations on every topic imaginable, before we would all retreat for a siesta.
The afternoon would be filled with be a couple more hours of something productive, before dinner which usually would end up with me playing to entertain the families and the ‘dinner drudgery’ guests and finally to bed curled up with my two loves. Sleep would take us for a few hours before ‘the jetlag’ would kick in again and I would be woken by the insatiable pair nipping and supping at me.
My parents had been kind to the twins’ family in the first week and had chosen dinner guests who spoke reasonably good English and who wouldn’t be too challenging in their dinner conversations. I didn’t feel the need to support them too much as every guest enjoyed the attention of these four gorgeous people. The dinner invites from neighbors and various friends of the family would soon be flooding in for their company. I would ultimately veto some requests as I could see that the host’s intentions were not honorable or odds with my own.
I felt I had to protect the twins from the embarrassment of having unwanted passes being made by lawyers or housewives or even some of my own family members. No, they didn’t want to take a ‘midnight Gita’ with my aunt. They would laugh themselves hoarse when I would tell them later of the advances that was being made at them over the dinner table and that they were largely oblivious to. “You don’t have to worry about us,” that would cajole me. “We know which side our bread is buttered on,” they would say with a wink.
They would then distract me from my concerns with hot and wet kisses. I don’t think they fully understood just how determined Italians can be when their hearts or loins are enflamed.
The boys had instigated the daily jogging or early morning swimming regime they liked to call ‘the morning constitutional’. They had decided that Mafalda’s cooking was so good and too extensive to miss and if we all continued at our present pace, we all would have to be rolled out of here at the end of the summer.
I objected each morning, as I was tired and sore in various locations from the twins’ daily ‘Jetlag wake-up call’. As with everything else I was outvoted and dragged out of bed, still protesting. They were nothing if not insistent.
We went out early to miss the main heat of the day. The boys and I would bathe off the dust from the road and our nocturnal emissions before barreling through the house towards the breakfast table to find the same daily tableau. Our families fitted together so easily.
The Fathers would be sharing the papers, Michael’s Italian was coming along well, but Papa would still explain the difficult words or challenging concepts. The Mothers would be poring over books, travel guides or magazines planning the next activity, which they would move out of the way at first sight of Mafalda bringing breakfast. We three would greet them with kisses and be encouraged to sit down or face the wrath of Mafalda who would berate us for our tardiness.
After the hearty breakfast, Armie would clear the table and we all knew this was his excuse to join Mafalda in the kitchen. She was coming to rely on him as her sous-chef and delighted in his odd questions and broken Italian.
She would defer to him as she cooked. “I’ve ruined it haven’t I?” She would ask.
“Not at all, just a little more spice,” he would reply, “Aha, that’s it… Bellissima!” gesturing wildly causing Mafalda to giggle like a teenage girl. Armie knew how to make people fall ‘head over heels’ in love with him.
Oliver and my father would retreat into Papa’s study after breakfast and he would help him in some task or another. Most of it I am sure was a series of Latin puns and coffee drinking. The other parents would move into the shade of the trees and drink iced tea and juice and relax into their day. I was then left to my own devices.
I took the opportunity to practice or transcribe some music alone. It was nice to have some space to myself. I loved every moment with my boys but a little ‘alone time’ was gratefully received. Before lunch, the heat of the day would overwhelm me, and I would retreat to the pool. The cool and refreshing water would wash away the heat and I could just think and relax. The boys would sooner or later find me either individually or together and make a bee line for my face and or my trunks. The cool and refreshing water would not dampen their excitement and I would find myself encased in twin love. When the water got too cold, we would sun ourselves on the hot stone edge of the pool, with Oliver or Armie stating, “This is heaven!”
As the summer went on the boys’ hair lightened to the most perfect golden blonde. Their bodies glowed with tan from the summer sun lovingly caressing them; even the sun was drunk on their beauty.
The water of our pool, although a little shallow, was perfect to take the edge off the Italian summer heat when it was too far to walk to the beach. The cicadas hummed in the trees, the only witnesses to our cavorting – or so we thought!
One day, while standing in the pool and kissing Oliver, who was laying on the edge in the sun, I marveled at his body on full display in front of me. My dick filled at the sight of him in short shorts and the line of his cock just sitting there was almost too much to resist. Sometimes these two were a little too much to take in at one go, but I would revel in whatever they offered me, which was a lot and often. I couldn’t help but be insanely in love with them.
While I was distracted, Armie stealthily and in one fluid motion pulled down my swimming trunks. Which made me topple over under the water. I took my revenge on him immediately. Without surfacing, I swam at him and, wrenching his cock out of trunks, I gave him a couple of short but firm strokes before wrapping my lips around it, he must have groaned at the attention and alerted his brother to what was occurring.
Oliver instantly knew what he was missing out on. He raised himself to full height and elegantly stepped out of his shorts, which he cast aside. Leaping high in the air, he curled into a gigantic incendiary device splashing more water out of the pool than was really necessary. I received the brunt of the splash as I surfaced from tasting Armie’s prick.
His brother and I turned on Oliver and threw him backwards into the water, trying to hold him under. A ‘no holds barred’ wrestling match ensued, and I was again overwhelmed by the sheer size and strength of both men. I was nearly drowned. I had to take shelter at the edge of the pool and try to regain my breath. They both stopped wrestling to check in on me, thoughtfully swimming over and asking after my welfare. I wrapped my arms around each of their shoulders and kissed each as I floated between them, cradled in their long brown arms.
My engorged cock surfaced like a periscope as I floated. One of the boys lent forward and briefly kissed my tip. He had a look of pure lust pass over his face, which was almost too much for me. His gorgeous mouth made slurping sounds as the bulbous head slipped in and out of his lips. He swallowed me down to the hilt and I was in awestruck delight. My head lolled back, and the other twin drove his tongue deep into my mouth, rushing me closer to the edge of my desire for them. If I wasn’t being held, I would have collapsed for I was being overwhelmed by the contact.
Mama’s distinctive laugh echoed from the other side of the garden wall and I quickly slipped out of their embrace. Both Mothers came into view, as we swam to the edge to meet them and shield ourselves.
It turned out our parents were not blind to our almost continual sexual shenanigans as we had thought. Judith informed us of their intention to picnic on the beach when the cousins arrived and that we should join them. We heartily agreed and before we could say anything more Maman added.
“Tesori, could you please put your swimming trunks back on before the cousins arrive. We don’t hold much hope for them having long and happy marriages but if they catch sight of you three in all your glory, the likelihood of marital bliss will be damn near impossible.” They both turned and walked away, and I knew she had a smirk on her face as she said, “We will meet you at the beach when you are done there.”
A couple of days later my parents caught me alone in the living room and sandwiched me in, on the sofa. When I realized I was being ambushed, it was too late to escape. They began by asking how it felt to be home again after so long away. I gave them the usual platitudes about the summer in B. being the best times of my life. They moved on to how I thought the twins were enjoying it and then went in for the kill. “We knew you were ‘In Love’ when you arrived weeks ago, but we weren’t sure which one had taken your heart,” Papa began.
Maman continued, “We don’t want to intrude in your love life, and I told your Father you would tell us sooner or later, but we didn’t think we would have to wait this long for you to confide in us.” She frowned at me.
“We love both the boys like sons that we never knew we needed, and Judith and Michael are becoming very important friends for us. Please stop us if we are overstepping the mark, but I think your romance is an atypical one or in this case ‘atypical two’,” Papa smirked at his pun, “Am I right?” he asked.
I nodded in agreement, a little embarrassed at why I hadn’t confided to them before this. “I didn’t want you to think of me as being greedy wanting both of them. They really are very much inseparable and equally lovable… I just fell for them.” I sighed, “I did want to tell you but there hasn’t been the right moment and it’s been worse since they all have arrived.”
“No one can choose who they love, and two pure loves can only be better than no love. We are glad that you are happy, and they appear to be as infatuated by you as you are in them. We are not the type of parents to oppose your happiness. We just wish you felt you could have told us sooner,” my father stated.
“What plans have the three of you made for when they go home?” Maman asked.
“We haven’t really spoken about it.” I said truthfully.
“Your future employment is more likely to be here in Europe and we will always support you in whatever you wish to do but this may not be practical. Their future is likely to be in the States, so we don’t want to ruin your holiday but…” My Mother paused as my eyes welled and I collapsed into her lap.
“I don’t want them to go!” I sobbed.
My father’s warm hands ran over my back as he consoled me, and my Mother bent forward and kissed the top of my head.
“These things have funny ways of sorting themselves out,” my Father consoled me.
Chapter 10: A letter to Oliver
From a prompt from EchoBard. Sorry! Not Sorry.
Cor cordium Oliver,
By the time you are reading this we have gone and are back home. You are still there in your beautiful Villa encased in your apricot and peach trees. We will have to make do with fruitless poplars and elms. But with us we have taken your heart just as we have left ours with you and your family. How could we have left someone as beautiful as you?
Armie and I will have reentered our usual life in our most excellent bed which will be so much smaller without you in it. I can’t imagine this new world without you.
I once thought that it was just me and my silly brother caught up in this life. I thought that we were luckier than most, having been born into each other arms. Thus, we would never need anything more to fill our closed universe. That was until that fateful night at ‘La Danzing’. I don’t remember if I told you that we had no intention of going out that night. We went to a faculty dinner and Armie had a little too much to drink and picked a fight with a professor who had made a pass at me during the last part of my course work. I had to get him out of there before I was expelled.
We both needed to release steam and the club would be the perfect place to do that. That was until a mop-topped boy caught our eye. Or was it those peridot eyes that had enslaved us? Too much happened for me to remember it all clearly. I could blame you for the distraction! Those provocative black jeans, hung loosely just on your hips, daring the room to desire them to fall to the ground.
There was one drunken stumble too many as I tried not to notice your silken pale skin when your shirt slid off your shoulder as you raised your arms. Like a clumsy teenager, we had made contact and the resulting spark sent you skidding over the dancefloor. I knew then that you would be my greatest love.
I was too stunned to move but thankfully Armie still had enough sense to rescue you from the floor. I am sorry to not be the one who saved you. I promise I would walk across hot coals or sun scorched gravel to save you from any danger in the future.
I was struck dumb with regret and honestly was nauseous at the thought of harming something as exquisite as you or your alabaster skin. What an introduction, but you forgave me right?
As you know, according to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. I had my twin and so I never thought of the slightly foolish concept until that night.
Plato went on to say that, “when one divided soul meets it’s other half; the actual half of himself that he had lost, the pair would be lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight”, as I may say, even for a moment. How could it be thus when I had already found another half; he was born with me. Were we born with six legs and six arms? Who were you then, my little bolt of Italian sunshine (as you name suggests)?
Your Father suggested that I had misinterpreted Plato’s meaning and over the last week I have revisited Plato’s Symposium and realized my error. The human’s soul is divided into three parts: appetite, reason and spirit. Armie and I had everything two men would ever need to survive but we lacked our third part. We were mere shells of people, pretending to be alive until we were completed by your spirit. You woke us from our mortal slumber and showed us what was right over our heads: the stars.
Thank you for your love and your dreams that you fill us with. How can we ever thank you for completing us?
I can only imagine our life without you in it. I can’t see the point of life without you in our arms or your music bringing me to tears or your superb body fulfilling my desires.
My instincts tell me that we will be on the first plane back to be with you. If that is not the case, I am the biggest hypocrite that has ever been born. Please forgive us for not being there with you now and every second until we return. It is as much the pure torture for us as it is for you.
When you find this, please tell me you don’t regret my clumsiness, for I can’t continue in th e world without your love and forgiveness. We love our Oliver until our hearts stop.
Your Elio xxx
I lay down the copy of Plato, from which the letter had fallen. At full speed I had bolted down the stairs bursting through the study doors. My Father turn to see me launch myself into Oliver’s lap. “Elio… Elio… Elio… Elio. You are perfection! How could I regret you or anything either of you two have ever done? Don’t ever leave me.”
I kissed him deeply, as my Father asked me what all this passion was in aid of.
Oliver pulled out of the kiss and said with a smirk, “Just Plato working his 25-hundred-year-old magic to get people laid!”
My Father gave a belly laugh that could be heard throughout the house and garden.
Chapter 11: Languid days and boozy nights
When people are on holidays, they become very different to how they are at home. They take risks they never would in their usual lives. Some are more inquisitive or not, others are more adventurous or not and you can learn a lot from people by how they travel. Before someone makes a major commitment to anyone else they should try a holiday to another country where they don’t speak the same language as you and you will see them for who they really are.
The Twins and their parents weren’t exactly travelling without a safety net, but they were starting to make day trips to other towns and would spend hours exploring either alone or with others. They were audacious, outgoing and so willing to engage with anyone about anything that it made the time we spent so enjoyable. No piece of trivia or sight of lesser importance bored them. They had become completely fascinated with the world we lived in. It made every day exciting to show them around and even if we didn’t do much, we all relished each other’s company.
One Saturday the Parents had gone off to Milan. The Mothers wanted to do some serious shopping in the exquisite boutiques and the Fathers was there to curtail the Mothers’ purchases. Mafalda was off with her sisters and so the Villa was all ours. My boys and I took to our room for a long languid fuck-fest that we always felt was a little too much for when we were not alone. It’s not like they didn’t know what was going on it was just nice not to think about offending anyone.
By midafternoon the heat in the room was fierce as the sun streamed in from the open balcony doors. The mesh curtains cast lines over Oliver’s taut brown naked body. He was laying on his stomach across the foot of the bed. I watched the beads of sweat run down his body and pool in his lower back and the perfect peach of his firm mound of an ass glistened with the slick of our last rut as he read a copy of my Father’s last book about Greek concepts of perfection. I could tell them a thing or two about what perfection looked like.
My cock swelled with the thoughts of our last session. Armie lay next to me, his arms wrapped around me and his soft snores tickled my neck. He slumbered almost exactly where he had pulled out of me, fully spent.
Oliver turned to me and I was transfixed in his soft inviting blue eyes. “What are you thinking about?” he enquired.
“Nothing,” I replied absentmindedly.
“Nothing you say? Your dick says otherwise,” he snapped back with a smirk.
I divulged that I was thinking about the ‘daisy chain’ fuck we had just engaged in. I love how it feels to be buried deep inside one of them with the other pushing his way into me. The act itself was rather awkward and disjointed and not nearly as sexy as you would think, nor is it that easy to do comfortably. How do porn stars make the motion of three men linked up like that, look so easy? Once all the thrusting and concentrating on keeping everything in place was over the three of us had collapsed into the most delicious pile of sweaty bodies and limbs.
Our cocks had begun to wane inside the other’s bodies. My thoughts had begun to drift back to Plato’s ‘twin flame’ concept that Oliver had written in his letter about. Me sandwiched between the twins’ muscly frames was incredibly comforting. Our bodies were wreaking of the spunk, the sweat and the saliva; which acted as undeniable evidence of that love between us. The liquids pasting us together in one unified unit. We were one person with three hearts and minds, focused on one common desire to be engulfed by the others. The expression of the mutual hunger would slowly send us off into the most peaceful siesta, but for this moment I was in pure peace. If this is what would fill the rest of our days, then I would die the happiest man that ever lived.
Oliver kissed me on the mouth. It was a slow wet kiss of a man who had nowhere else to be but in my mouth. My phone began to call for attention. I could tell by the ring tone it was Papa. Armie rubbed his eyes and asked, “What have they done?”
“Elio-Belly… Michael and I thought you boys should jump on a train and join us for dinner.” He blurted out.
My Father was obviously drunk. I asked the boys if they wanted to see ‘Milan with drunk Fathers’? Oliver was already up and grabbing his towel. Armie grunted this was something I had to see with my own eyes. I told them to not do anything stupid and drink some water and to not drink any more until we got to them. He rambled off the address of a small bar in central Milan. I didn’t know it.
The regional train passed quickly through the rolling golden countryside. The boys marveled at the picturesque fields and romantic farmhouses that punctuated the view. Armie chose at least three different houses as his perfect Italian residence. He declared that he would be ‘selling up’ and was moving to live in whichever house we were passing at that moment.
He rattled on about needing a serious tractor, not one of these little rustic tractors that the farmers had here. He wanted a big ass full featured air-conditioned serious tractor to get around in. Oliver had drifted off on my shoulder as Armie kept me entertained with his fantastically romantic notions of how it would be to own one of these farms. Every time I came up with a complication like the tractor couldn’t go on the motorways or that he would need help to work the farm; he would spin off into an explanation of how he would overcome such trivial concerns. Each time he would start to spin me a line, I would smile at him and see how far he could spin it. He may not want to be a lawyer, but he sure could play the part.
All too soon the scenery changed into small houses clumped together into smallish apartment blocks and larger houses and then taller towers less houses until finally we pulled into the town center. Oliver was revived by his little nap and the three off us piled into the back of a taxi to find our wayward Fathers.
Stepping into the bar through a beaded curtain, I realized why I didn’t know the bar. It was a dingy traditional bar which old men frequented and played cards and drank and told dirty stories and generally behaved appallingly. This one looked like it was run by bikers or worse.
Why our Fathers were there soon became evident as we sat next to them with a hand full of cards. They both had become part of a large table of poker players. A bottle of grappa was in front of them and the men around the table were clearly enjoying the generosity of the Americano’s drinks. Michael was cleaning up, to the obvious annoyance of the other players.
My father gave me his hand and bolted to the toilets, telling me in French as he went that he was busting for the toilet but was too afraid to leave Michael alone. His fear was not unfounded as I wouldn’t be surprised if any of them was carrying a knife and things could turn ugly if they wanted their money back. I gave my father’s hand to Oliver who I knew loved poker and the two generations of the S. men mopped up the rest of the table.
I encouraged them to leave before the next round and ‘to quit while they were ahead’. The other players noisily complained that they should be given a chance to get some of their money back and my Father apologized by buying a round of drinks and settled their tab.
When we were back on the street, I asked them how they found themselves in such a bar. Michael explained that the ‘women folk’ had taken to the shops after lunch and so he and Sammy had stayed on drinking at the restaurant. As the wine flowed they decided that they had left the girls too long and they both must be financially ruined.
As crazy as it sounds now, they had concocted the idea as they passed the bar that they could win enough to make up for the shopping spree and the day would end up costing them nothing. I was dumbfounded – were these really our usually sensible and very serious Fathers?
After calling us to ‘join them’, a level of sobriety had kicked in and they realized the key flaw in their plan was the type of people they were playing. They wouldn’t like being fleeced out of all their money, so they had to play on until the ‘6 foot 5 cavalry’ arrived. “And here we are. Pockets full and in time to meet the Mothers for dinner,” Michael said cheerily.
His grin was infectious, but I shot my Father a look of disappointment. He was old enough to know better and not put himself nor my other favorite Father at risk. Papa weakly smiled and slapped me on the back with relief at the safe end to an adventure. Oliver and Armie chatted merrily to their Father about how thrilling it was and how well their Father had played. These were my silly boys at whatever ages they were!
The Mothers were resplendent in the new outfits. They gushed on about the stores they have been in and the jewelry they tried on and that they had seen Tv stars in this or that shop, how each shop would give them coffee or wine – it was all too elegant. Their shopping bags had been taken by Anchise, who was happy enough to take us home once we had finished dinner.
Everything was gorgeous in the restaurant. The food was traditional and so elegantly created and plated. The interior looked like a palace and the wine flowed. Oliver kept saying ‘Wow’ at everything and Armie kept asking the waiter questions about the food and how it was cooked. He would be getting a good tip from us tonight.
Our conversations were lively as the Fathers recounted their gambling adventure and the boys hammed it up in the retelling for added effect. Maman was entertained but I saw her shoot a couple of short looks at my Father and me. I nodded and looked at my Father who became a little red, but to our guests, it would have just looked like intoxication. We all decided that the Fathers couldn’t be trusted, and we should never let them out of our sights again. I raised a toast to that!
I encouraged the Fathers to drink a glass of water with each glass of wine and by 10:30 we all had caught up to them. The Mothers felt we should walk off our dinner and so we strolled arm in arm around the town center with the glorious old buildings lit to show off their stately grandeur.
As we passed a couple of bars, a noisy discotheque caught the attention of Maman. She started on Papa. “We haven’t danced since our last holiday in Sardinia. I think we should go in and check out the atmosphere.”
Judith agreed with her. Their last time was a wedding months ago, that she and Michael had danced together at. I was trepidatious at the prospect of our parents making a complete fool out of us, but the twins thought we should show them how the younger generation can ‘cut the rug!’ I realized that we may make a fool out of our parents.
We paid our entry fee and made our way upstairs. The noise was a little oppressive but the views from the balcony over the city were really good, so we took a table outside and were able to talk reasonably well. The boys and I bought a round of drinks and I made sure they all had some more water. The Mothers were giggling like teenagers at the dress sense, or lack thereof, of many in the room. This was a new side of them to me. Happy, relaxed and more juvenile than they usually are.
I went up to the DJ and requested a song that I knew would get us all up on to the dancefloor. It needed to be 80’s as that’s all my parents would dance to and as I approached the booth I wondered if he would play it. He told me that since it was still early, he would oblige after a couple of songs. I waited and watched the twins faces to distort as the now sentimentally charming staccato xylophone notes kicked in and they launched themselves at the dancefloor, dragging me along with them. I took up my position at Armies Feet with his brother by my side, as we all waited for his line. “There’s an Armie (sic) on the dancefloor!” Richard Butler sang. The parents were doubled over laughing hysterically at the sight of their three obnoxious sons cavorting around the dancefloor in gay abandon.
Our Fathers were reluctant dancers but with bellies full of food and booze, they happily accompanied their wives. They would never win any sort of competition for style, but their exuberance could never be questioned. I sometimes forget that my parents were once young and could be silly sometimes. My years away had definitely changed the dynamic of our relationships, but that wasn’t a bad thing.
By 1:30 the dancing had tired us all out and we didn’t want to face the wrath of Anchise for staying out too long, so we called it a night. We were all hot and sweaty from the cramped interior that was now heaving with punters. It felt a little bad to be leaving now but I knew the parents wouldn’t last much longer.
Both couples took up the backseat of our hired bus. The Twins were squeezed into one double seat and there was a multitude of shopping bags on the other seats and so the only seat left for me was up front next to Anchise, who chatted all the way home about the friends he had caught up with and the gossip we were missing while in B. He hadn’t minded our late return in the slightest.
Before we got off the freeway the mingled families were slumbering soundly and in the rearview mirror, I watched Armie drool on to the collar of Oliver, who was pressed against the window of the bus.
The roads were surprisingly quiet for a Sunday morning, but I knew by the time we were in bed, the following morning would definitely not be an early one. No ‘morning constitutional’ for us. I was still dreading the sound of Mafalda ringing the bell for breakfast and the state of the family who had drunk far more than they should have the night before. The main thing was no harm was done and I would be soon back in my lovers’ arms.
Chapter 12: Cosmic fragments
Things are moving on.
Having servants meant that for the first time in their lives the Twins’ family was relieved from most menial tasks, or they could do which ever tasks that they preferred. This led to a dramatic increase in leisure time which we all enjoyed during the hot summer months. They all liked to help out: Armie cooking with Mafalda and Oliver helped out Papa with filing and cataloguing. Judith tided around her messy sons and Michael spent hours helping Anchise in the gardens and orchards.
Even I had be instructed to help out. Maman had decided that I should take care of laundering the bedsheets and other linen. “Mafalda has more than enough to do with feeding us. And then with all the extra linen on top of her usual workload. You can help her out,” she had explained to me.
I could see her point but wondered if it had to do with our present sleeping arrangement and saving Mafalda from having to deal with our daily emissions. Of course, I didn’t mention this to her, but I would discuss it with the boys later.
Mafalda was happy for the assistance; I had become used to cleaning up after myself during the three years I spent in the States. Even with extra tasks we all were left with considerable time to be filled by engaging in their favorite things.
Michael was dogged with exploring ideas. He would read papers or articles on a specific topic and then would be holed up with my Father for hours reviewing his understanding of it. He would later revisit the concepts that he was exploring at dinners and get the dinner guests to explain their understanding of the topic and debate the subject until he fully fleshed out the ideas from a variety of perspectives.
Judith was more like my own Maman and preferred to explore her own ideas and thoughts in silence. She was an avid reader and by the time that they left, I think Judith had read every book in English in the house. Her appetite for literature was voracious and varied and knew no bounds. She even tried out some of her ‘school girl’ French but always fell back on her love of classic English fiction. She would appear out of nowhere with a book or two and would tell you in detail about the books that she had been reading.
One morning I was laying across our bed and Judith barged into our room. Seeing me there, she apologized for interrupting my reading and proceeded to tell me she had seen a copy of ‘Brideshead revisited’ here somewhere. I shot up and handed her the copy I had in my shelf.
I told her about how I had studied it in high school. The decaying grandeur of the life between the wars and the impacts of the Second World War on the old way of life and those same impacts could be seen in my own family, which struck a chord with me. The thought of the feeling of unimaginable loss of so many people and their talents and lives unrevealed and or resolved.
As she said that she had read the book, I didn’t feel amiss in mentioning how I thought it was interesting that at the end of the book, the war never ends and so leaves the reader with an unresolved feeling of loss for the joys and delights of futures that will never happen, as they were never written. Like the moments in time caught in Charles Ryder’s paintings never to know life outside the vacuum of his gaze.
We talked about books for a little while and she expressed how this summer had made her realize that she needed to spend more time around books and was planning to seek a job or at least volunteer to work with people and encourage reading. It was such an interesting and different plan which I said I thought she would find very rewarding.
We both were startled by a noisy commotion coming from the kitchen. Armie’s base baritone pitted against the staccato tones of Mafalda. She was close to losing her temper and I knew I needed to capture this on video. Stealthily bolting downstairs, I arrived outside the kitchen where the argument was in full flight.
Positioning myself by the door, I had a clear view of most of the kitchen. Things had been getting prepared for lunch, and the smell was totally amazing. I crouched down so I couldn’t be seen, my phone exposing to me what it was recording around the corner. Mafalda drew herself to full height as she was faced off against Armie who towered over the smaller but self-assured women. He was being assertive in a not at all aggressive way. It was obvious by the way he was holding his mouth he also had a firm opinion on whatever they were arguing about. Mafalda wasn’t having any of it!
“Just accept you are wrong, and we can move on,” he said flatly.
“I will not take this from you, of all people. You who should know better! I am not some silly teenager laying daisy chains around your pretty head! This is my kitchen and you can’t sweet talk your way in here.” she said venomously in fast broken English and Italian joining words.
The comments flew backward and forward in pigeon-English from Mafalda and pigeon-Italian from Armie, both reveling in their bickering, Armie trying to use his legal debate skills to turn this contest to his advantage and Mafalda’s ‘street smarts’ not giving him an itch. It made for compelling viewing. Armie caught sight of me and gave me a wink and a grin that melted my heart. He now started hamming it up! He had better watch himself, Mafalda was known to slap when pushed.
He continued to give her advice on how to solve the matter at hand and she was not budging. Her expressive hands flew around her as she went back to the beginning and began explaining how he was wrong and not just wrong, too young to know any better and he should listen to her wisdom and not interrupt her.
He leaned over the counter and stole a meatball out of the pan, popping it into his mouth. She produced a wooden spoon from thin air and gave him a whack with it. This must have come as a bit of a shock as he darted out of her arm’s reach. She charged at him again wielding the spoon like a sword. Armie chewed frantically as he was chased around the kitchen island by her gigantic personality which almost seemed to tower over him. She grabbed his cheeky face in her hands and brought him down to her eye level, “Birichino! - Naughty!” she bellowed at him. He kissed her nose and she released him. She patted his face motherly, he had disarmed her, and the argument would now be instantly forgotten. She whispered at him in Neapolitan dialect, “If you weren’t so beautiful and I didn’t love you like a son, I would slit your throat!”
He just grinned back at her sweetly in oblivious innocence.
I messaged the video to my parent’s phones and almost instantly received emoticons demonstrating their delight at the video of the kitchen exchange! ‘That is too good not to share!’ Maman added in her next message! Apparently the ‘kitchen video’ was very popular with my parent’s friends and would be talked about for months to come. Oliver was annoyed to have missed it. I placated him with reminding him that it was likely to happen again the next time they cooked together. Armie just delighted in the attention. He really did like to be looked at.
Late one afternoon the twins were in the bathroom, Armie had just stepped out of the tub and Oliver was replacing him in the steamy hot water from the shower. I lay on my bed watching their ballet of exchanging place. A slight nudge here and a playful push there, like brothers do.
Armie was caught in the light of the window and his golden tanned skin glowed. The summer had done extraordinary things for their bodies. The hair shone like spun gold and they had lost the pallor of stress and study. They were in prime physical fitness and I knew every inch each of their perfection and I loved both of them so much it almost hurt. They were my favorite playthings and they hadn’t gotten bored of me yet which I was extremely happy about.
As our time together went on, we had grown to anticipate each other’s needs and desires, instinctively caressing the point that would make each other mew or grown. Armie stood in the room roughly towel drying his hair. His body send droplets of water in all directions. His cock contorted in the motion of his toweling as his firm rounded ass jiggled merrily.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my knees. I grabbed two handfuls of his perfect mounds and kissed sweetly. The blonde hairs tickled my nose as I pushed my face into his tender crevice. His breath caught in his throat as I lapped along his seam. The towel hit the floor as both of his huge hands gripped my head as he forced my face deeper towards his puckered warmth.
A groan of desire came from across the room as Oliver joined us. I hadn’t heard the shower turn off. His mouth was on his brother’s and his hand fisted his engorged cock rapidly. A long sigh filled the room as Armie’s orgasm was released from his body. His brother pushed his cock into my mouth, and I was just in time to catch the first gush of salty essence. They both called their own names to unite us in our mutual pleasure.
All my senses were full of them. I could taste, smell, hear, see and feel only them. The world outside had stopped for them to manhandle me as we collapsed on the floor. Wet mouths caressed, nibbled and enticed my tender trigger points. It was like two master jewel thieves working to crack the combination of a safe. They had my body perfected and so within what felt like seconds, I was primed for an encore to the twin’s main event. One finger breaching my tight ring and I shook as I was overcome by sensation.
When I came to my senses sometime later, I was being nursed between them. They were discussing something in their twin language, and I could see that it was more serious than I would have expected from them just after an orgasm. I placed a hand on each of their broad and expressive faces and asked if everything was ok.
“Your Father has invited the head of philosophy and human science from his university to dinner tonight. He wants to have a chat with me about my thesis,” Oliver said. “The Professor had warned me to bring my ‘A-game’ to the dinner table tonight. Apparently he is impressed with my ideas on Heraclitus in a modern context.”
This piece of news changed the way we all got ready for our usual ‘Dinner Druggery’. We had to play for Oliver tonight, I started planning what I would play after dinner and Armie went off to check if there was anything that he could do to help Mafalda. I assisted Oliver with dressing a little more formal but not too over the top. When we came down, my mother commented about how lovely we all looked, and I knew she was also in on this little plan of my Father’s.
The start of the meal felt a little forced. Oliver sat opposite Marcello, the head of school, who was a charming and quick-witted man in his fifties. His specialization was in logic and this was evident with the way it shaped his way of speaking. He tested Oliver with a variety of subtle propositions which he responded to in a considered and thoughtful way. By dessert the wine had flowed well, and the table was more relaxed. Oliver and his parents asked both Marcello and my father about the University and what made it so internationally acclaimed.
Papa explained the great library and their collection of primary sources and manuscripts; along with the continual research possibilities that being so central in Europe allows. Marcello spoke of how they were expanding their international focused courses and working to engage with a wider range of students from all over the globe and that the teaching staff were being encouraged to seek to widen their experiences that they could offer their learners.
Marcello finally landed at the point of his visit. He asked if Oliver would do him the honor of visiting the University in the next week. He revealed the position that he had in mind for him. He didn’t sugar coat anything when he explained what would be expected of an adjunct professor. He would work too many hours for an appallingly low wage. There would be too many contact hours with too many students, but he would be assisted to publish his book with the ultimate goal of delivering a course which reinterpreted the delivery of classical studies in the fresh modern way so evident in his thesis.
Oliver’s mouth was wide with shock, he just sat there blinking. His parents looked at each other as they took in what was being offered and Armie’s hand shook as it held mine under the table. We all knew what a big break this was.
To give him some space to think and break the tension, I walked over to the piano and began to play Philip Glass – ‘Metamorphosis’. I was soon joined by the families and guests with their glasses refilled. They sat in silence and contemplated the music as I played.
When the guest left that evening, Oliver had agreed to go and see Marcello. He made it clear that he was very flattered to have had such a generous offer made to him but would like some time to think about it.
The boys disappeared after the guests left. I entered our bedroom and found it empty. They weren’t out on the balcony, nor with the parents, so I went further afield to find them. I was walking through the orchard and I caught sight of the orange glow of a cigarette coming from the beach below our house and proceeded towards it.
As I got closer, I saw the two of them sitting on a large rock overlooking the sea. The waves breaking around them and the wind blowing away any sound that they could have been making. One twin was sitting upright smoking and the other had his arms wrapped around his brother’s chest. By the shuddered movements his body, it was obvious he was crying; the other had his free hand in his hair consoling him.
I suddenly realized that this was not my place to intrude on such a private and intimate moment. They have life changing decisions to make about their future and I knew that they would come to me in their own time if they wanted me to help. I didn’t want to force Oliver’s hand to make him stay with me and leave his brother to go back home alone.
Chapter 13: The Crash
Papa said, “Boys, this can’t continue, and since ‘misery loves company’… we are going to leave you three to it.”
Trigger warning: Car accident
Perched on the edge of the pool Armie had one arm wrapped around my waist and had me pulled tightly into his body. I held his free hand in both of mine. My fingertips exploring the texture of his enormous hands. The rough skin on his fingertips contrasted with the smooth skin between his blunt fingers. His fleshy ‘Mount of Venus’ leading to his well-worn palm. I thought about how there was no part of my body that this hand never caressed, stroked, grasped or used to wring sexual pleasure out of me. I felt the loss of his hands which was due to happen in a couple of weeks time. I wanted those four hand prints to be burnt into my skin, like tattoos, to claim me as theirs.
The joy of the previous weeks had somehow left the three of us ever since Oliver had returned from visiting Milan with our parents. He had accepted the position as Adjunct Professor at the University and would begin teaching in the fall. I was delighted that he was staying but equally disheartened and bereft for the loss of Armie. How could we continue without our other third?
Oliver lay on his back on the other side of the pool reading a particularly depressing section of Ovid’s Metamorphosis. First, he read the line in his studied and precise Latin, then a direct translation and finally a relaxed modern English interpretation.
“Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim. - Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.” Oliver recited for us in his authoritative base baritone.
His voice echoed around the garden making his words more monumental. I drifted off into my own thoughts to worry about what the next season would bring. What if Oliver didn’t have time for me with the new job or we began to drift? Would Armie still feel the same for me, so far away or would he become jealous of the two of us being together without him? Would he come to resent me for stealing his brother and ultimately hate me for leading Oliver away from the family home? I sighed.
My mood became blacker, but I was pulled out of these thoughts by the arrive of the Fathers. Papa let out a similar sigh as he saw the three of us laying by the pool. I saw the concern in his eyes.
“Boys, this can’t continue,” He declared, “and since ‘misery loves company’… we are going to leave you three to it.”
Michael then chimed in, “Yes, the grown ups are going to Venice and you boys can wallow in your self-indulgence here on your own.”
“Mafalda is going to Napoli to stay with her niece and Anchise is visiting friends in Milano, so you’re going to have to fend for yourself and hopefully snap out of this funk while we are gone,” Papa informed us.
We all sat in stunned awe; Oliver’s mouth hung open; Armies breath halted in his chest. We hadn’t noticed the effect that our mood had been having on the villa. The two fathers turned and slapped a proud arm around each other’s shoulders as they strode purposely back towards the house.
The next day as Mafalda was leaving, she turned to Armie and said in her Neapolitan dialect, “If you make a mess in my kitchen, I'll split your face in two," as she raised her palm to Armie’s face.
Armie grinned down at her with the most ‘shit eating’ smile and then turned to me asking “What did she say?”
“She wished you a good time in the kitchen. You are now our cook for the week, you know!” I replied. Oliver turned to me and gave me a knowing nod and a wink.
“Can do! But you will have to sing for your supper!” Armie said with a look of lust on his face.
We slid the rusty green gate closed, which announced to the outside world that no one was home. We wouldn’t be interrupted for a week. The sun was climbing in the sky and the heat of the day was intensifying.
“Last one in the water is a rotten egg,” Armie announced and bolted towards the beach.
Oliver instantly was hot on his heels and I fell in at a much slower third. I couldn’t beat their athletic prowess. Those daily jogs and general competitive rivalry had them in extraordinarily good shape.
Our clothes were being discarded and strewn along as we went. Armie was over the small gate at the bottom of the garden before I was at the top of the stairs. Oliver was smoothly over it and slipped his shirt off in one fluid movement. I fumbled with the buttons of my shirt and nearly crashed into the gate as I reached it. I let out a little grunt as I got over the gate. Oliver turned and I thought he was coming back to encourage me, instead upon reaching me he gave me a cheeky grin before retching my shorts down and throwing me over his shoulder. Each of my protests and demands to be put down earned me a firm slap on a buttock as he sped off across the sand towards his brother.
Armie’s tanned naked body splashed into the water and he cheered for himself as the winner. Upon seeing both of us reach the water, Armies danced around us victorious. After a few moments this wasn’t enough for him and he tackled his brother into the waves sending the three of us into the briny foam.
Taking in a large mouthful of water, I spluttered as I reached the surface, still tightly held by Oliver. A pair of firm hands lifted me out of the water and from his brother’s clutches. My breathing was slowed further as my lips were crushed under a much larger pair. A hand began to raise my legs up out of the water. They were holding me suspended high above the reach of the waves. I felt an exploratory tongue circle my balls and slurp its way up my cock. Its slow progression continued as I stiffened to meet his touch. I ran my hands through both of their wet hair. One head bobbed up and down and the other attacked and chewed at my lips. Their hands were pressing into me supporting and caressing my body. I felt the first jolt of pure pleasure as my nipple was twisted and then as another finger slid past my tight ringed muscle.
To think about our sex life, I will always be astonished by how hungry these two always were for more sensation and how totally attuned they were to the each other’s thoughts. They were hell bent on heightening my pleasure before erupting in their own. The barrage of kisses, strokes, tugs were incessant, all while being supported above the splashing waves. It was so was incredibly otherworldly and sensual.
They took advantage of my own body assisting them in their sexual onslaught of my opening. They suspended my frame from a shoulder or used my own weight to counter balance as a brother gleefully thrust into me.
The hot sun reflected off and bounced across our shining wet bodies. We had become so comfortable in our nudity on our secluded beach, we could have been in a locked room for all the shame we felt. The sun was almost blinding to look at, but I loved to see where our bodies met. My feet would not touch the sand until both brothers had blasted their own salty desires into me and had lapped my own juices off my belly.
On our way back to the house, I found Oliver’s underpants hanging from a tree. It was like a reminder of our past joy. I was already beginning to the feel the loss of their bodies. I never want them to stop playing out their desires on me. I tried to put away the feeling of impending loss aside and enjoy this perfect moment, but it hung ominously between us.
The days of the parents absence, rolled into each other. We woke late, lazed in bed until the heat in our bedroom became oppressive and then we shifted our languid sex to the orchards or the pool. Clothing had become optional and our all over tans were developing nicely. The last of the apricots and peaches were becoming more and more comparable to my boy’s rumps. Their hair became blonder and my own hair appeared denser, longer and darker by comparison. It became usual for one or both men to let a hand linger in my lengthening locks as they passed. Gently fingering a curl which would lead to a finger or two trailing along my jaw, leading to my face being lifted away from whatever I was working on and into a deep and passionate kiss.
Armie kept us well fed and one corner of the dining table became our usual spot. Close enough to kiss or caress or share which ever part of the meal was delighting us and in need of sharing. Armie’s cooking was becoming truly magnificent and so traditional that I could hardly tell the difference between the two talented cooks. This time also coincided with dramatic improvements in his Italian.
Oliver had started taking bi-weekly Italian lessons from an aged neighbor and linguist. Armie being the ever-competitive personality had decided he also needed to attend. He had explained it to me as he needed to show Oliver how it was done. I suspected it was to get an extra four hours a week with his brother, but didn’t say it.
Armie had begun to learn a lot of Italian mixed with way too much Neapolitan slang from Mafalda. With serious professional tutorage both men had begun to develop their vocabulary, tone and diction and I was flattered to be part of the reason that they were learning to speak my Mother tongue.
One night we realized we had put a massive dent into my parents’ wine cellar and needed to get more wine for quaffing but also cover our overindulgence in the past few days. They left it to me to decide what to buy but Oliver chose to drive my parents beat up old Fiat. It wasn’t until we got home, and he lay on top of us on the sofa that I realized how drunk Oliver and the rest of us were.
We were enjoying our parent’s absence and I liked to imagine what it would be like for the three of us all living together. The Parents rang most nights for a group skype call. My Mother was a little worried that we weren’t looking after the house or weren’t eating enough. Armie showed her his belly as way of explaining that starvation would never be an issue as long as he had access to the kitchen. Michael spoke only in Italian to check to see that they were keeping up with their studies and my Father told them that he thought they were doing extremely well with their lessons.
Judith gushed about the galleries they had seen and the gondola rides and the opera they were about to attend would see her fulfill a lifelong dream. The end to the calls concluded with the usual “ciao” or “arrivederci” and the boys’ flippant “Later!” We all laughed and sat back entwined in each other’s bodies. The world felt good, at peace and in order.
The music from the stereo of Oliver’s truck was blaring and we drunkenly sang along to some stupid pop song that I can’t remember. The night had been clear, and the coast road was winding tightly around to mirror the cliff face and the brake lights of the truck, glowed eerily red, showing us where we had just been. All our faces glowed in the lights from the dash. Armie’s hand was in my lap and my arm playfully tickling Oliver’s neck as he drove.
The buzz of the wine and the warm air rushed about us from the two open windows. The weather had been perfect, but it must have rained at some point as the road gleamed from rain and the truck was taking the corners a little wider than I would have liked.
“This road is getting pretty treacherous,” I voiced over the music to Oliver.
With a smirk he stated matter of factly, “It’s all good, I am a now a doctor!” and laughed.
I realized we were all too drunk to be driving. Armie must have seen my fear and pulled me into his face and lapped at my lips, his firm hands holding my face up to his exploration. Oliver growled behind me and wretched me away from his brother and began kissing me hard. He wasn’t watching the road.
I tried to mouth that this was not the time to be focusing on me, just as I heard the rear tyres lose traction on the gravelly shoulder of the road. Oliver instinctively began to oversteer and I was pushed back into the seat by Armie’s gigantic hand. The Truck careened off the road and down the scrubby embankment and soon was rolling downwards towards the sea. There was nothing any of us could do as we rolled. The random detritus in the car had begun to circle around us as we rolled over and over. The truck had one final roll and came to rest in a tree, halting our decent abruptly.
I must have passed out as I felt myself drift out of the cabin and began to watch the crash site from above and a little behind where my body lay. Armie’s head was against the windshield and Oliver was laying over the steering wheel. My body was twisted between them.
I called out my name. Trying to wake one of us up but I got no response from any of us.
“Elio… don’t leave me.” I screamed. “My beautiful and clever Oliver… I can’t live without you. Armie, bold and gregarious angel… you can’t die! Not now, come back to me!!”
As the truck burst into flame, my mind started to drift further away. I screamed again and again for them. I was going hoarse calling for them and they couldn’t hear me as I was lifted away into the night sky.
“Baby, wake up… its ok we are here!”
Who said that?
My body felt heavy and sore. The arms and legs laying over me began to move away.
“Elio, don’t leave me. I love you both so much. Don’t die.” I sobbed out. My face was wet from tears. I hickuped and I drew more breath to sob for my lost loves.
One of twins must have turned on the small bedside lamp that my father and I had bought on a trip to Oxford.
As I opened my eyes, my old bedroom came into focus the two golden Adonis’ faces, that I know better than my own. They were speaking slowly and clearly but I could not discern what they were saying, though I could understand the concern in their faces as they peered down at me in the half light.
“Oliver, we are here!” one said.
“... and we are not going anywhere, Armie!”
I blinked at them and cried harder to hear their voices again.
Speaking to me so lightly they did their best to reassure me that they were ok. They hadn’t just died in a fiery car crash. I ran my two hands over their bristly cheeks. I pulled away from them and lifted myself to full height and stood on the bed.
I had to make sure everything was in place. Their strong long brown legs, check. Their muscular arms, check. The firm chests covered in a thin scattering of dirty blonde hair, which turned into their nests of pubic hair, check. The flaccid cocks laying lazily on the full ball sacks, check.
Four hands the size of dinner plates pulled me back down between them on the bed and in their embrace I began to tell them about my horrific dream.
I didn’t feel any better for telling the tale. It was still so vivid and so awful, and once again I had spread my misery to my glorious boys. I realized in that instant that we had wasted so many days with my moods and moping around about Armie’s imminent departure. So many worse things could happen to any of us. We didn’t have a second to waste on this sort of shit. Papa was right and as I began to cry again, I promised myself that this would be the last time that I would be miserable in this idyllic place.
The boys were so sensitive and so gentle with me as I spoke. Each trying to make everything better and to quieten my tears. I reached the point that I couldn’t handle being touched by either of them, as it just made me cry harder. So as a distraction, they moved further down the bed begun touching each other. One arm around the other’s shoulder and they began licking at each other’s lips. Though red puffy eyes, I let out a sigh. They were so beautiful but two of them together was my ultimate weakness. One said, “You like this right?” and I sulkily nodded.
A hand slid up his brother’s leg and opened them for me to see the others heavy balls slump down between his legs and his hairy ass peaked out at me. They had my got my attention.
They talked me through all my favorite parts of their bodies, as they listed them, they asked me to stroke or kiss or touch knowing that it would turn me on. It wasn’t long before my tears were forgotten, and the base of my cock throbbed for them. I didn’t care how or by who, but they had to be on me or in me.
We rolled around over each other, slurping as we went until we fell into the position where the three of us were inside each other laying on our sides. I was inside Oliver and Armie was slowly sliding in and out of me. I freed an arm from under Oliver’s golden hips and gripped his shoulders.
“Promise me neither of you will ever drink drive again!” I said thrusting hard in Oliver’s firm ass, removing most of myself from Armie’s cock. They both simultaneously let out a low and loud grunt.
“I can’t argue with you, while you are balls deep in me. I promise you Oliver, that as long as I live, I will never risk our lives again.” He said and I thrust into him with joy growing in my heart.
Tightening my muscles around Armie cock who was half way inside me. “You are very quiet back there!”
“It wasn’t me who drove us off the cliff,” Armie whined, “but if it will make you happy. I promise to not drive under the influence ever again!”
I relaxed my ring and tears came to my eyes again as Armie went back in hard and fast. His pace was building as he grew closer to release. Our sweat and spunk mixed in the hot room and I yelled into the empty house as blasted my load deep into Oliver.
“Elio… Elio… Elio!”
Both boys forced their tongues into my mouth and our world was back in order.
Chapter 14: Viva La Pappa
The summer is coming to an end and the parents return from Venice. The 'Dinner Drudgeries' continue with a new fervor and there is an offer.
The day before the parents’ return was full of tidying and getting everything back in order before their return. I had load after load of washing which felt like it was a never-ending task. Armie scrubbed Mafalda’s kitchen within an inch of its life. I found him on his hands and knees with a light ammonia solution grunting contentedly as he scoured the floors, just as Malfalda herself would have done. He told me he didn’t have time to talk as he had to get this floor washed before starting on the oven. Oliver was just as busy moving books and clothes and other detritus we had discarded in and around the villa during our week free of parental supervision. He polished the dining table and the other wooden surfaces across the house. The parents would be proud of how much care we had taken of the Villa in their absence.
My boys slumped into the big green sofa exhausted at 9pm. I decided to play something on the piano until it was bed time. Armie relaxed with his head in Oliver’s lap as I began to play a light pastoral piece which morphed into some of the water music. I looked over to where the boys sat and noticed both were snoring soundly. There was no way I was going to move them, so I grabbed a blanket, turned out the light and slid in beside Armie and drifted off to a deep and peaceful sleep.
The sun was high in the sky by the time I woke in our bed. One or both of them must have carried me upstairs during the night.
I could hear the brothers in the bathroom. They were speaking in their ‘Twin speak’. I could only catch every fourth or fifth word and the hushed tones were intended to not wake me. I rose and stood at the door to listen better. Their language was quite sweet and rather garbled, but I loved hearing the secrets of their minds spill out in their lyrical private tongue.
One twin was in the bath and the other was sitting on the edge waiting for his turn and massaging shampoo into his brother’s hair, they would both need a haircut soon. They didn’t notice me until the one in the bath dunked his head under the water to wash out the lather. His face contorted into a cheeky grin when he saw me. He stopped talking and shot a look to his brother, who almost instantly began to ham it up. No more words were needed for me to know what they were about to do, they were putting on a show for me. The soaping brother kissed the other’s brown shoulder and he took up the flannel and ran it down his brother’s back who let out a comical and overly rehearsed groan which turned into a gasp of delight as it drifted further down his back.
“Oh, Elio would love to see us playing in the bath like this!” one said.
The other quipped, “I do hope he takes advantage of us when he wakes up!”
It was all so corny that I couldn’t help to laugh and reveal my presence. “Good morning my loves! What’s been happening?”
I walked over and ran my hands over their firm bodies. Leaning to them I kissed both passionately on their mouths. The twin in the bath stood and his huge cock stiffened as my hand slid up his body. The brother on the edge moved in behind me and I felt his dick push in behind me and try to find its way in. My underpants were discarded and I fell to my knees. Tasting the difference between the washed and the unwashed brother, I tried to fit both of them into my mouth and sucked as best I could. My mind drifted and I begun to hum a tune that had been playing around in my mind as I slept. My two beautiful lovers let out a low whimper.
“Nope, we are not cumming first,” they said, picking me up and throwing me back onto the bed.
We didn’t care we were getting water all over the bed. They nuzzled at my tenderest points, their bristles tickled me, mercilessly. I writhed under the onslaught. One brother continued and the other grabbed at the lube bottle. He smeared it on over his hand and slid his damp hand over throbbing cock. Once he was satisfied with the coverage, he thrust the hand up his own crack. His face contorted as he pierced himself and ground himself down onto me. Slowly lifting himself off before pushing back down along my length, he grunted merrily with each time he plunged deeper onto me.
His brother kneeled by my head, maneuvered his dripping prick between my lips and began my tumble towards orgasm. I heard them kiss sloppily and I released my pent-up juice of love on top of me. Within seconds the simultaneous wash of the brother filled my throat and covered my belly. We all slumped in a mess of spent body parts. My cock cooled and shrunk in the open air. I missed the warmth of this summer of love already.
All too soon the house was full of people and life again. Armie proudly showed Mafalda her kitchen, taking great pride in his efforts. “Almeno ci hai provato! – At least you tried!” She stated matter of factly and patted his face.
Armie turned to me and asked, “What did she say?”
“She loves that you are always trying!” I said.
This made him beam with pride and he started getting lunch ready for the family. I really don’t know what Mafalda would do without Armie as her sous chef.
The parents had a great week in Venice. They had such a wonderful time together they had begun planning another holiday for the coming Christmas. We were informed that they had decided we would be spending Christmas in the States this year. Nothing could dampen the joy that they had found in each other’s company and god help us if we ever broke up. They were going to friends for life.
Not even Michael having his wallet stolen by a pickpocket nor the frantic cancelling of all his cards could dampen their enthusiasm for travelling together. Somehow, they balanced out each other’s personal weaknesses and encouraged each other to try new things.
They all raved about the romance of the ancient houses and trips on the canals, the galleries and the parties they went to. But the highlight for Judith was going to the opera and seeing the opera house. Sitting at the piano, I played a selection of the music they had heard, which brought a tear to her eye.
As this was the last week of their holiday the ‘Dinner Drudgeries’ kicked into overdrive. There was an endless number of my parents’ friends and colleagues who wanted one last dinner with the Twins’ family before some of them returned home. My heart sank at the prospect, but I wasn’t going to let it spoil our fun.
One dinner was very different though. Mafalda started cooking early and was on tenterhooks all day, so much so that Armie had to cook lunch and then was refused entry again to the kitchen as she was too busy to have him underfoot. There was only one person that could send Mafalda into such a state. One of my Mother’s friends, the TV host and celebrity Antonella Clerici. She visited us whenever she was near the Villa and I didn’t think it was very unusual to have her drop in during the summer.
Mafalda’s favorite cooking show was ‘La prova del cuoco’, that Antonella had hosted for many years. This was the equivalent of having royalty eating at the house and Mafalda was not going to let anything distract her from cooking the most elaborate and sumptuous dinner and highlight her extraordinary culinary talents. The house had become unusually tense before dinner and I didn’t realize why until after an exquisite starter the main course was served. Mafalda was so proud as she delivered each plate to the guest and stood back to hear the sound of the awe and delight at the meal she had served.
Antonella, in the most casual way as she savored the heavenly flavors, turned to the twins and asked which of them was Armie. Armie identified himself from across the table. “Annella sent me your hilarious cooking video that you made with Mafalda,” she said.
I looked across the table to see Armie turn a slightly redder shade than normal. He mumbled some form of thanks.
“I had to come and meet you before you go home to the States.” She paused to see Armie’s reaction; he just nodded.
Antonella continued, “Your video got me thinking. Have you ever thought about hosting a cooking show?”
We all sat and blinked at her, except for my Mother. She had been up to something and it was now coming to bear fruit. I could tell from her reaction.
“Picture it, you, the big American contrasted against little old ladies with great stories and recipes to share. They show you how and you bring us your bold American charm and good looks. Everyone has a good time and we make some interesting television.”
“But.. but my Italian is terrible,” Armie stuttered.
I piped in, “But it is improving so fast with the lessons you are taking.”
“That will be the charm of the show,” Antonella continued. “They get to help you with learning the language and culture, not just cooking.”
She went for the knockout punch by saying, “Would you come into the studio this week and do a screen test for me?”
Armie didn’t move for a minute and we all watched and waited for his response. For an impossibly long amount of time. He kept us all waiting and then he said quite calmly, “Yes, I will shoot a test as long as you let me choose Mafalda to film this with.”
The sound of plates smashing from the other side of the door snapped us all out of the conversation. Armie shot up from his seat and rushed in to assist Mafalda who was on the floor collecting shards of broken crockery. Armie was soon on his knees also helping his friend.
Mafalda stopped him and placed both hands on his cheek. “You are very beautiful but also very stupid. You cannot pass up a chance like this. I won’t let you. So, when we do this, there will be no talking back in my kitchen and you will only do as I direct you, none of your ‘little experiments’. Is that understood.”
Armie nodded and grinned like an idiot at his mentor.
Armie’s audition was in a small Television studio in Milan. They had set up the kitchen set to look like a rustic traditional kitchen. Mafalda had had her hair styled and was wearing the nicest dress she had ever worn. They tried three different suits on Armie and he wasn’t comfortable in any of them. It all wasn’t him. So, he finally took things into his own hands. He pulled off the tie and let the white braces that were meant to hold up his pants hang down behind him and he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He looked amazing. With a rough hand through his hair, he was ready to shine and shine he did.
The show would go on to be called ‘Viva la pappa.’ The name taken from a Rita Pavone’s 1960’s hit, that would also be the show’s catchy title music. Its tone is just the right level of excitement and would appeal to an Italian audience.
The plan was for when the show got purchased by the station, they would film three 20-minute segments per week, all to be shown as standalone stories between regular programming. Antonella was going to produce it and had already put her feelers out and there was already some excited buzz about the concept. They would be filming in this studio but have special features filmed in other locations around Italy. The main thing that was great about this was that Armie would be based with us in Milan.
I had fought for the show to be called ‘Beauty and the beast’ but my suggestion had been shot down by Antonella. Apparently older women don’t like being referred to as ‘beasts’. My mother had explained it “we all knew who YOU think the beauty in this show is, let the professionals do their jobs.”
The filming took a very long three hours for 20 minutes of usable footage. I knew the show would be a hit the moment that the camera caught sight of Armie bending over to place the dish in the oven, the pure genius of the white braces framing his near-perfect ass was inspired.
We all went out for drinks that night and when the call came through a breathless Antonella announced that the television executives loved the rushes and Armie would be starting full time filming in the next week. There was not a dry eye in the room. His parents were happy for him and relieved that he was going to stay with his brother and me, but I also saw the shadow of loss pass over them. They were going home alone.
The boys cashed in their return tickets and with my small savings we had enough to start looking for a house to rent. The housing market in Milan is incredibly tight and our requirements were very specific. We need room for the biggest bed we could buy, not to mention space for a study for Oliver, a piano for me and a good kitchen for Armie. Fortunately, as there was three of us our budget was reasonably healthy. At last we found a charming but quite traditional apartment not far from the University and relatively close to the inner city and private enough that we could live as we wished.
The building belonged to Teresa, an elderly widow whose family had owned the building for generations. She insisted we call her Zia Teresa on our second meeting and hugged the boys within an inch of their lives whenever she saw us. Three generations of the family had always lived in the building. As each generation shuffled off their mortal coil, the family would shift down a floor. Her daughter and son in law were working in Spain, which freed up the three-bedroom second floor for us.
Above us on the top floor was Zia Teresa’s granddaughter Antola. She was a raven-haired beauty who was extremely studious, and we rarely saw her without a book in her hand. She would pass us in the stairs with a quiet nod and a look that said she had more to say.
We would spend many hours on the rooftop sun deck. Mafalda insisted that Armie needed to grow his own herbs and a collection of other small plants. She would come by periodically just to reprimand us for letting things die or bolt to seed too early. The apartment’s kitchen was modern and open. Zia Teresa’s daughter must have been the cook in the family, as the great facilities allowed Armie to experiment and ultimately begin to take food to our ever-grateful neighbors as well.
Oliver’s office hours were grueling, and his first series of classes had been rather harrowing, but he was beginning to get into the rhythm of his new school and began to enjoy teaching his students. He had begun work on a new interpretation of Heraclitus fragments and we helped him as much as possible. His hours didn’t allow much time for doing a lot of the household chores, but we were not going to let him be kept. He had set tasks that he could do when time permitted, and the rest were done by Armie and me.
I began taking piano students to help with the rent and Armie was in full production mode as the last really warm days of the fall came to a close. One of these mild but comfortable afternoons, we lounged on deck chairs in the sun on the rooftop deck. We were listening to Oliver reading some points he had found interesting in a Heraclitus fragment, when we were joined by Antola our neighbor. She had just returned from a friend’s birthday party and I could tell by the way she was gushing words, she was a little tipsy.
“She is quite deaf you know,” she said referring to her grandmother. “Doesn’t hear a thing. But I hear everything.”
We turned and looked at her in shock.
She continued, “It’s kind of sexy the way your call each other by your own names as the three of you fuck.” And without missing a beat she continued as though she hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. “One day, you have to explain to me how that came about.”
As with all good things. Sooner or later the wine finishes or the summer comes to an end and so this story has almost come to a close. You may be surprised to learn this was originally was going to be a 4 chapter short story and here we are at chapter 14. This chapter would be Nothing without the ever wonderful support of Antola (Glendaa). Her assistence with Italian and suggestions for show titles and pop songs made this chapter more rich and interesting. I am forever astounded at her generosity and boundless kindness to this silly little Australian's random ideas. Grazie mille!
Armie's show theme music Rita Pavone's great hit Viva La Pappa Col Pomodoro - https://youtu.be/kgC2D-bvUKE
If you like that you are sure to like this one too. Another Rita Pavone song "Datemi un Martello" (Give me a Hammer!)
Armie's kitchen look. I would watch any show with him bending over an oven dressed like that! https://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/article/armie-hammer-interview
Indeed, Give me a Hammer!
Here is my Spotify playlist This story has been written with this playing in the background.-Elio and the Pirate Twins There are ideas in the music that never came to fruition but most of all you get a deeper feel for the boys internal dialogue with this sound track. Give it a listen!!
Most of all please enjoy. If you like it then comment.
If you want to ask me anything about this beast of a thing, fill ya boots.
Chapter 15: Happy Birthday Baby - 16th of November
It's Elio's birthday and he has woken to find, four very excited and sparkling blue eyes staring at him and which are attached to two very large naked men, his naked men bearing cake.
Thank you to the delightful Glendaa for her Italian words.
16th of November – Milano
“Wake up baby!”
“It’s your birthday! We have cake!” sounding like an excited child.
I opened my eyes to be greeted by four very excited and sparkling blue eyes attached to two very large naked men.
“Wake up lazy bones!” Oliver said, “Or you will sleep through your whole birthday!”
“Why are you not at work?” I asked Oliver concerned.
“I’m sick! cough… cough…” He said with the most half assed and fake coughing sound ever.
Then with a giant grin on his face Armie added, “and your students have been rescheduled too!”
“What have you got planned?” I ask.
Oliver pulled back the sheets and Armie planted a large cake into the center of my chest, with a thud. I hadn’t noticed the cake until it was too late.
“Blow out the candles!” they both screamed at me.
I puffed out a burst of air and extinguished the three candles. “How are we going to eat it? More importantly, how can I reach it?”
Two massive fists full of cake were thrust into my face. Tiramisù, perfect.
Ignoring my protests, my two lovers faceplanted into the cake. The delight that the boys take in consuming food in the most barbaric way is extremely hypnotic. They tickled me as they devoured more cake than I thought possible, in a timeframe that would make Mr Ripley think about listing it in his book.
They had me writhing in giggles. Our faces and upper bodies were covered in the wreckage which had once been a cake. They moved from scoffing cake to begin consuming me. Greasy cake-smeared mouths moved over my flesh, lapping at my tender points as they attempted to remove more of the cake remnants and in the process, they were working me up.
By the time one of them hit my cock it was hard and beginning to leak. My other lover nuzzled at my neck. “I want to fuck you so hard!” he whispered into my ear.
It was obviously Armie, who had been away most of the week filming a ‘Sicily feature’ for his tv show and had returned late last night with a range of delicious wines. His show, ‘Viva la pappa’ was rating so well it was picked up to be screened five days a week.
It was cutting through to a huge audience; it was extremely popular with teenage boys and girls, gay men and women between 30 and 80. The most surprising segment of the population was older Italian men. Singlehandedly he had revived interest in cooking for men in Italy by just being cool and American in a 50s film star kind of way, and because Armie made it look easy. He was in demand by magazines and newspapers for interviews and it was hard to go to the shops with him. The things that complete strangers would say to him was shockingly forward. Fortunately, he didn’t understand all of what they were asking for. Sooner or later his Italian would be at a level to know they were being filthy.
Oliver had been a little put out by his brother’s overnight success but his new philosophy course was oversubscribed and the most popular new course at the university. It was helped by, but not completely driven by, the students realizing he was the twin brother of that American tv star. The university was delighted with the numbers of students enrolling in his courses and also the results of the students, who were very attentive to Oliver’s hypnotic tone (identical to his brother of course). The school had to employ three extra tutors to help manage the student numbers and had already offered him a pay rise to keep him from being headhunted.
Once, to surprise Oliver, Armie had snuck into one of his lectures. Huddled at the back, only stepping out when he had finished lecturing, he was unexpectedly and ‘clothes-rippingly’ overwhelmed by the extremely excitable twenty-something hormone-driven students. It led to Oliver having to intervene and rescue his brother and smuggle him off campus. If you believed the now infamous story how the twins put it, Armie could have been murdered or molested or both, and right on university property. They were scandalized.
The videos posted on Twitter and YouTube look a little chaotic but more than manageable for the two large men. The television station had demanded that Armie have a body guard whenever he attends public events but didn’t offer the same service for Oliver, who was continually being recognized as his brother. They would hand him gifts, phone numbers and most unusually ‘fresh tomatoes’ to sign. The latter was in reference to the show’s theme song and the assumed resemblance of the shape of a round plump tomato and his firm and totally-belonged-to-me ass.
I was brought out of my thoughts as one large digit breached my ring. It was very insistent and intent on its course sliding in and out of my body. I let out a groan and the opportunity of my mouth being open was taken by the other to insert a wet tongue into my mouth.
My body was awash with the boys. Working independently but as a united front to engulf my body in pleasure as well and have their way with me. I was rolled on top of one of the twins who quickly slid himself inside my lubed hole. He hissed with pleasure as he pushed himself as far as he could in me, taking his time to glide himself almost fully out, reveling in the sensation of my tender muscles encircling his member. Quickly he slid back in with a thud. Thrusting and retreating quicker each time he changed direction, he hung on to my ass cheeks like a man possessed. His thrusting displayed an urgency that I didn’t want him to realize too soon. It was clear he was going to come so I slid myself out of his grasp and onto his twin’s engorged member.
Riding his tool with my knees on either side of his body, the motion was driving me on. I was almost riding him like riding a horse and each lunge increased my passion for these two, which was almost too much.
Totally turned on and half out of my mind with lust I stopped to ask, “Do you think you both could fit up there?”
“Are you seriously asking what I think you are asking for?” the brother I was riding asked.
“I don’t know if it will work, or that I will be able to do it, but I want to try it at least once,” I said with conviction.
“Are you sure?” the brother behind me asked, a little too excitedly, “you don’t have to do this.”
I nodded with conviction. “I want you both in me at once,” almost pleading.
The searing pain of the second cock was almost too much as it hit my ring. I hissed “Stop for a second!” as I clung to the brother behind my hips to stop his movement. Breathing through the white heat of the pain, I was determined to continue.
He took a second to get more lube and rubbed a fist full of it over his and his brother’s shafts and began his assault again. Little by little he squeezed himself through me and along his brother’s cock buried deep inside me. He slid a little out and then back in. The sliding action was not as smooth or as free as single penetration, but he built up a steady thrusting motion that we all were enjoying. The brother below me cradled me in his arms so tenderly, whispering encouragements though his own lust-filled panting.
The boys began to grunt along with my cries of pleasure, which were also mixed with the pain of the pressure on my body. It was evident they were delighting in the exploration of my ever-widening opening.
Simultaneously, they leant into each other, over my shoulder and began to kiss, hard and passionately and deeply. The sight of their love made my cock throb and my ass muscles loosen further, still tight around their two gigantic dicks. They ground into me, each with a mouth at my collar bones, from opposing sides. Biting hard on my pale skin, they marked me with signs of their ownership over my body and my passions. Thankfully the purple marks were in places that were out of sight to most of the world and thus I wouldn’t have to explain them away like some nervous adolescent.
The physical exertion of the brother on top is mirrored below me in a smaller but equally as firm way. I felt their cocks begin to soften just a second before they released the most primal guttural moans at the same time, their bodies unleashing a torrent of their essence deep inside of me. Convulsing in their release, they obviously hit my prostate, as white light sparked through my field of vision and through my ‘dick-addled’ brain. The only way that I can explain the sensation is that it was like being hit in the face by a snowball. My conscious drifted away into the white space.
“I think we broke him?” a deep voice said in the distance.
“Do you think his brain is broken?” another voice that I know so well.
“What did you break this time?” I asked.
“Oh, there he is!” a relieved voice said, “We lost you for like ten minutes. You said, ‘look out, snowball’ and passed out!”
“Where did you go?” the other asked.
“Nowhere,” I said a little confused and embarrassed. My ass was sore but it felt so good being fully with the men I loved.
Wrapping me up in their big strong arms, both brothers encased themselves around me and snuggled tightly into my body. In under two minutes both boys were soundly snoring, in post orgasmic hormone crashes. I was left feeling a little perplexed by what had happened and why was I laying in the wet patch. I guess I had been out voted again.
I was woken by the familiar buzz of a skype call. Slipping on a shirt I went over to find my computer demanding attention.
Sitting on the bed between the twins, we squeezed our heads into the tiny camera screen. As I opened it, I found Maman and Papa’s bright shining faces in what looked like a tent.
“Auguri Elio! Tesoro, come stai? Cosa farai di bello oggi per festeggiare? Ci dispiace non essere lì con te! (Happy Birthday Elio! Honey, how are you? What are you going to do today to celebrate? Sorry not to be there with you!)” Maman burst out at the sight of us.
“Ragazzi, come va con l’italiano? (Guys, how is the Italian coming along?”) Papa burst in.
Armie stated, “Sta migliorando, ma ci vuole tempo. (It’s getting better, but it will take some time) “
“Grazie al latino me la sto cavando benone! (Thanks to Latin, I’m doing quite well), “ Oliver said confidently.
The screen filled with two more faces, ‘Buongiorno sons, what have you three been up?” Judith said, “and happiest of birthdays to you Elio.”
“Thank you all for the wishes.” I said.
“Are you three still in bed?” Michael asked.
These seven people skype calls are very difficult, and it sometimes felt like it would be easier to convey the information with an email.
“What’s that on your faces? Is that chocolate sauce?” Michael continued.
Armie explained that we had been eating my birthday cake in bed and Oliver had attacked him trying to start a food fight. My mother tutted at the explanation and Judith snorted as she laughed at the implausibility of the story.
I changed the topic. “How is the tour of the ‘Big Five National Parks’, going?”
“We rode for miles on horseback yesterday,” Papa said matter-of-factly.
“The guide said your mother has a natural seat and she has been an excellent teacher, showing us all how to improve our riding,” Judith said.
“I haven’t ridden a horse since I was girl but it’s so much fun to be back in the saddle,” Maman said.
“I can tell you its been really hard here in Yosemite and after a day on horseback, I am really missing my own bed,” Papa complained.
“But aren’t you ‘Glamping’?” Oliver asked using his fingers to insert ‘air quotation marks’ around the word ‘Glamping’.
“The beds aren’t quite as comfortable as they looked in the brochures,” Michael said, defending Papa’s statement.
“But you also have air-conditioning and running water,” Armie added, “You two are getting soft in your old age!”
“Less of the old from you young buck!” Michael quipped at his son.
Oliver cut in to the usual family banter, “We are going to a really nice restaurant for dinner tonight. Armie pulled some strings to get us a table at the hottest new restaurant in Milano and then we are going to force Elio to dance for us until the wee hours of the morning.”
I sat in stunned awe – this was the first I was hearing about it. The parents gushed about how nice all that sounded and how they couldn’t wait to see us at Christmas time. How nice it will be with the whole family having our first ‘American Christmas’, all together.
Once we hung up from the call, I felt a little blue. It had been years since I had had a birthday with my parents. This was not to diminish how happy I was that they all got along so well and how important to us all the friendship my parents had with the twins’ parents was. I knew it was only a month until we would join them in their house for Christmas. Their house had become a second home for me when I was in the States. The boys asked me what was wrong, and I explained how I wished I was with parents too for my birthday.
“I didn’t know that you wanted to ride a horse,” Oliver stated deadpan.
“Well after the two of you this morning, my ass feels like there’s been the horse riding me!” I said with a cheeky grin.
The twins both mocked a horror expression before letting out the dirtiest growls imaginable.
“We can only imagine what you will do for our birthday!” one twin replied.