Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:

Mark Henry Foster  The story‑teller:  Pennefather Organ Scholar

Tristan (Tris) Price‑Williams  His well‑proportioned boyfriend

Francis [Toad] Foster   Mark's sexually rampant younger brother

Ivo Richie Carr   Mark's cousin:  chunky and cheeky with it  

Adam Benjamin Carr    Ditto, as his twin

Oliver Jensen   A Musical undergraduate with allure

Edward Jensen  Oliver's younger brother with extra allure

Angus (Zack) McKenzie  Fiona's younger brother, a young man with panache

Brandon McKenzie Her even younger brother who can overdo things

Guido Faldi   A very hairy Italian medical student

Ernesto di Cremona  Guido's boyfriend

Pietro Faldi  Guido's cousin and another overdoer

Francesco Matteoli  Designer and uncle of Mark and Francis

Count Aldo Leopardi  Companion of Uncle Francesco

The seven of us met up at Heathrow for the flight to Italy.  I think Brandon was a bit

apprehensive about meeting Pietro in particular, but Frankie and Eddie had him sitting

between them on the plane and Frankie reassured him he would be OK.  Oliver and Zack

amused everyone, acting as being so excited as if they were a couple of five‑year‑olds.

"When will we get there?"  "How much longer?"  Oliver and I had gone for a quick pee at

the airport as neither of us were devotees of aircraft toilets.  We were alone standing side by

side and he was so ecstatic.  "Zack's everything I could wish for," he said almost missing the

urinal bowl as he looked at me, "I can only hope it will last.  This holiday away will be the

test.  We managed things OK down in Dorset but we couldn't be too open."

     There were two cars waiting for us when we arrived.  Aldo was there and had dressed

up with chauffeur's hat and grey jacket and was holding a notice 'Villa Matteoli'.  He

winked at Tris and me and we played up to it.  I nudged Frankie just as he was going to open

his big mouth and he cottoned on, too.  Tris and Frankie went with Oliver and Zack in the

other car without them knowing who the greeter was, and I went with the other two in the car

driven by Aldo.  I thanked 'the driver' profusely as we got out and he hammed it up with a

vile English accent, 'Sankyu, zir, Sankyu milor'', as I handed him a two euro coin.

     Uncle Francesco was waiting for us as we arrived, then Aldo appeared in shorts and

top and only Eddie looked a bit mystified and then realised who 'the driver' had been and

dug me in the ribs after I had hugged Aldo.  "You want to ask him for your money back the

way he nearly went over that red light,"  he said, and Aldo pressed the coin in his hand as

they shook hands and he bussed him on his cheeks.

     The Italian lads were lined up as well and Pietro took one look at Brandon and

hugged him and tried to say a welcome in reasonable English.  I gave Nesto the usual

European greeting of double kisses.  He looked at me coyly with the stocky figure of Guido

next to him.  "I'm glad you made a decision," I said and hugged him as well.  I hugged Guido

and said he was a lucky lad.  His English was now good enough for him to understand, and

say 'I am'.

     After being sorted out in our rooms we all assembled on the terrace in shorts, tee‑

shirts and sandals or trainers ready for sunshine and food.  Food was as usual plentiful and I

saw Toad in earnest conversation with Unc who was grinning hugely.  Tris and Guido took

the others round the huge garden as I sat with Nesto.  He said he was so happy doing his

course at the University and he could meet Guido who was at the Medical faculty now in his

second year.  He said Grandma Matteoli wanted to see us ‑ she was his great‑aunt ‑ and she

and his grandmother had quarrelled as usual.  "Like two cats," he said laughing.

     Brandon and Pietro disappeared off as soon as the latish supper was over that night.

The rest of us sat with Unc and Aldo and sipped glasses of champagne as he said he'd had

the best year as far as the business was concerned.  He'd hired a yacht and we would be taken

out for a three day trip up the coast.  All were agog at this, as he said he would make sailors

of us before we went home.  Bed then, and the most satisfactory loving session with my Tris.

It was a warm balmy night and we sat by the window after undressing and just hugged and

kissed and felt each other until we could last no longer and Tris loved me fully that first

night.

     It was funny the next morning because Tris, I, Frankie and Nesto stripped off

completely, after our first swim in the morning, and lay nude, smothered in sun‑oil, on the

beds on the roof terrace.  Oliver and Zack took the initiative and after anointing each other

liberally with Factor whatever they looked at each other and slipped off their swimsuits as

well.  Frankie leaned over from giving Eddie the same treatment and pulled his baggy swim‑

shorts down. Yes, Eddie was built like his brother and I wondered if he might just out‑strip

Frankie in size as both were well‑hung lads.  Guido seemed hesitant but Nesto beckoned him

over and he was soon lying down, exposing, not only the hairy chest we'd admired the year

before, but a short, plump length which poked out from the hairiest bush I'd ever seen.  The

tops of his thighs were thickly forested as well and, if I was Marcus Tarantula, he was Guido

the Italian hairy‑legged spider.

     That left the two younger lads who watched surreptitiously as we older ones bared all.

I saw Brandon nod at Pietro and the final two showed their equipment ‑ admittedly not as

developed as all the older ones, but they had the beauty of youth as well, and by the end of

the day were perfectly at ease, even when big‑cocked Oliver picked up a squealing Pietro,

who immediately sprouted a sturdy near five inch erection, and threatened to throw him in

the pool if he whistled some pop‑song again.  When released he scampered to his sun‑bed

and lay face down and was whispered to by Brandon who seemed not to worry as his erection

waxed and waned all day.

     Aldo came out a couple of times from his office and openly laughed at the hectares of

flesh which were on full view.  Tris leapt up once and chased him threatening to strip him as

well. "I am a poor old man," he called out as he shut the roof door in Tris's face.

     There was one strict rule.  Full nudity was only allowed on the upper terrace.  Swim‑

trunks for anyone venturing into the pool, or added shorts when walking the grounds.

"Mustn't get the ladies excited," Aldo had said at breakfast the first morning.  As the ladies,

and Signora Faldi, all looked elderly to us we wondered what the excitement might entail.

Oh, and there was a new pool‑boy who seemed so shy against the ebullient Guido.  He came

the second day in rather ragged shorts.  I saw Frankie get up, slip his own shorts on and

disappear indoors.  A few minutes later a less shy lad was wearing a Matteoli creation.

Immaculate board‑shorts with the prominent logo.  Frankie also learned from him how to

keep the pool clean when he wasn't there.

     I had a long chat with Aldo who wanted to know all about Charles.  He was so taken

with his son and his fanciful ways and said he'd arranged the best hotel for him in Venice at

Christmas, but was wary of trying to get too close.  I said Charles was such a good friend and

had a very strong personality under all the show, but I expected he felt rather the same.

Meeting a father after twenty years of knowing nothing was certainly difficult.  Perhaps he

should come to Cambridge a bit more regularly.  He said that was a good idea.  He needed to

come to England more often as the expansion in business was just about to occur and he

needed lots of legal and financial advice.  I gave him Jacob van Zyl's name and address and

telephone number saying he'd mentioned he'd seen reports of a possible expansion.

     He wanted to know about the other lads.  He was very taken with Oliver as he had

learned quite a bit of Italian when his father was stationed in Rome with the British Council

and his brother was 'molto bello'.  I knew Aldo had a thing about blond males as he'd eyed

Tris many times.  I hoped not speculatively.   He thought Zack was so English, a real

gentleman.  I asked about Nesto and Guido.  He smiled.  "That Guido, he makes bulls‑eyes,

is that right, all the time at Nesto."   I said he meant 'cow's‑eyes'.  He laughed.  "He is not

too much like a bull, but Nesto is more than happy.  I think they are so well‑matched.  Nesto

is the boss, though he is younger, but he does not get all his own way I am glad to say."  We

thought Pietro and Brandon were getting on well.  Brandon had brought several games for the

pair to try on their game‑boys and even with little of shared language they were together all

the time, except when one or the other was hounding Frankie to show them short‑cuts or

special moves.

     Of course, there was even more excitement when Ivo and Adam arrived on Sunday.

Pietro was thrown in the pool, followed by Brandon, Eddie and Frankie in sequence, cheered

on by a retreating Oliver and Zack who managed to elude a pincer movement by the two

brothers who now had me and Tris as adversaries and threatened dire and vile reprisals as we

managed to tip them in the deep end.  As they emerged, to the hoots of the rest, it even

brought Signora Faldi out to investigate in case her son, Guido, was causing mayhem.  Two

dripping lads rushed at the Signora, smothered her in kisses and hugs while she tried to bat

them away, laughing her head off, with the large wooden spoon she was carrying.  Luckily

the pair had their swimsuits on but caused enough excitement anyway and squawked loudly

as they got walloped to the cheers of everyone else.

     Oliver and Zack came in for quite a bit of ribbing as 'Romeo and Julian', and the tale

of Frankie's participation in the Boudicca production and his Christmas appearance as a

young stallion ‑ little pony was their view ‑ had to be told again and again with the photos of

both 'performances' displayed in the breakfast room much to the Signora's amusement

again.  Aldo rather neglected his work and spent a good deal of time each day chatting and

laughing with everyone.  Although he appeared in tailored shorts he resolutely refused to

strip off completely.

     It was on the Thursday of that week at breakfast when Frankie nodded to Tris and me

and obviously wanted a quiet word.  "We think Brandon and Pietro are overdoing it a bit," he

said when we sat at the end of the table with him and Eddie.  I looked around, neither had

appeared for breakfast yet which was unusual.  "They're only playing games on those

things," said Tris, "Probably been playing all night."  He got a real Toad withering look.  "I

don't mean that sort of overdoing it.  You are thick!"

     Eddie also looked rather solemn.  "We think they are over‑indulging in mutual

pleasures," he said, "You know what I mean."

     "What's happening?" I asked.  I assumed they were just wanking together.  Two

fifteen‑year‑olds in the same bed at night would soon come to an arrangement about not

taking any notice while the youthful juices were conjured up.

     "From what Brandon said yesterday he was too tired even to swim and they both kept

their shorts on all the time," said Francis in concerned mode.  "We think they're sore...."  He

saw my look.  "....at the front.  Pietro kept adjusting himself and winced a bit I noticed."

     As I, Tris and the Thugs had spent most of the previous afternoon looking for suitable

knick‑knacks for presents in the main street near the Cathedral we had been absent when any

adjusting was overseen.  I had noticed that the pair had gone off to their bedroom as soon as

supper was finished each evening.  I said this and the pair nodded.  I said I would talk to

Nesto and Zack if we had anymore worries about them.  I couldn't explain in Italian to

Guido, Pietro's cousin, that the lad was probably rubbing himself raw.

     We had more or less finished our breakfast when two bleary‑eyed boys came in.

Through half open eyes they chose their croissants, bread and other things and Brandon

nearly spilled the orange juice he carried to the table for them both.  I nodded at Frankie.

     "How's that Kung Fu game going?" he asked, "What's your scores.  You look as if

you've been up all night playing."

     Poor Pietro burst into tears.  He must have got some of the English.  Perhaps 'all night

playing'.  He started to say something in Italian and Brandon put his arm round him.

Whether he understood it I don't know.

     Nesto had moved up the table.  "He says he's sore," he said, translating.

     "So am I," said Brandon rather defiantly, "We were only seeing...."

     He realised that ten pairs of eyes were on him.

     "You were only seeing what?" his brother Zack demanded.

     "They were only seeing how many times they could...." began Ivo, slowly.

     He was interrupted by Guido who got up quickly and knelt by his cousin and started

asking questions in rapid Italian.  Pietro put his arms round his neck and whispered

something back.  In the conversation I heard variations on the phrase 'farsi una sega' several

times and knew that meant 'a wank'.  

     Brandon took his arm away from Pietro's shoulder and stood up straight and stiffly.

"We got fed up playing the game so Sunday night we decided to see how many times we

could..." his defiance deserted him.  It was Frankie's turn to get up and put his arm round

someone, this time, Brandon.

     "...You decided to do what most boys have done.  To see how many times you both

could come in a day.  I've done it, I don't mind saying, and my friend Jack has as well.  It's

nothing to worry about, or be ashamed about.  It's what all boys do!"  It was his turn to look

defiant.  I thought, 'Good lad!'.

     "We only did it at night," said Brandon.  "We both did six times Sunday night and

Monday but Tuesday it was five and last night it was only four 'cause we were both too

sore."

     All us older ones just looked at each other and chests heaved with silent laughter.  No

one laughed out loud.  It was much too serious a boys' thing for that.  Johannes Knottus' total

in just four nights.  It looked as if an attempt for the Guinness Book of Records might be in

progress as well.

     "Brandon," breathed his brother very quietly, "Six times between when you went to

bed and when you got up?"

     His brother nodded, "But we did get to sleep about four o'clock.  We didn't sleep last

night, though 'cause it took too long and Petey couldn't get me going for ages."

     "You did it each time to each other?" his brother asked.

     Brandon nodded.  "Only fair, and it's nicer."

     True it was nicer. I couldn't count the number of times Tris and I had helped each

other to three orgasmic outflows when we were fifteen or so, four more rarely, now generally

two in the passionate love‑making when once in bed, and the methods of achieving those

were varied.  But then, there was my heroic solo effort when Tris was away with his family

when I was just sixteen, and I managed seven times in just under twenty‑four hours.  Even he

said he'd never beaten that.

     Guido was saying something to Pietro who began to look a bit happier.  Nesto said

"He's telling him all boys do it but it is too much those times every day."

     That lightened things definitely.  Trust Adam to ask the obvious.  "Now for the record

books ‑ twenty‑four hours, highest score?  Mine to start the ball rolling.  Six and proud of it!"

     We all looked at Ivo who curled his lip at his brother.  "I'm an unbeaten six, too!"

     Oliver was next.  "Five!"

     Zack smiled, "Five!"

     Eddie and Frankie chorused from opposite ends of the table simultaneously, "Six!"

     Tris said "Six!" and gave Frankie a thumb's up sign.

     I said "Seven" rather quietly and got the most pronounced Toad sneer of a lifetime

and a sotto voce "Fucking hell!"

     Ernesto was watching each as they gave their score.  He nodded and said in English

"Five!".

     All eyes were on Guido now as he knelt by his cousin who was listening with open

mouth.  Guido's tanned face turned darker.  He was blushing.  He held up both hands and

displayed ten digits.  "Dieci!" he said, then said something in Italian to Nesto.  We waited.

All wondering at this wanking prodigy.

     Nesto smiled.  "He says it is Pietro's brother's fault.  He went camping with him and

it rained and they had nothing else to do.  He said they had to stay another day because he

couldn't walk and Alfredo did nine and had no skin for four centimetres as it was rubbed

away.  He has the scar now."

     Everyone was laughing and chattering then.  Frankie gave Pietro a hug then came

over to me.  He looked at Tris.  "Trust him to beat everyone except those Italian sex‑hounds."

He turned to me.  "That means I've got to waste another day."  He shook his head.  "Even I

don't think I can manage eight!"

     Tris put his arm round him.  "I'll tell you what.  We tie you down and take it in turns.

On the hour, every hour.  I'd love to see you squirm after eight and Marky starts you for

number nine.  Better do it here.  We'll get the Thugs to help.  Adam hasn't forgiven you yet

about that smaller banana."

     A squashed Toad.  A look of abject horror passed over his face.  Eddie overheard the

exchange.  "It's OK Frankie, I'll defend you, only 'cause you're so good at it...."  He realised

cats were out of bags and another boy blushed.  I sneered as best I could at Frankie and Tris

thumped him on his back.  Of course, for the next week and a bit, until the Thugs went home

he was politeness himself to them, even when they invariably asked him if his score was

improving as he seemed rather tired in the mornings.

     Zack and Guido had taken the pair off to their bedroom for inspection for damage.

Nothing startling was reported.  Both had a small raw patch which was anointed with

Vaseline or something soothing and they were told to moderate things.  Sanity must have

prevailed because they were soon back to their first‑in‑for‑breakfast routine and Pietro was

back to exhibiting the sweetest brown‑tanned butt imaginable to the delight of all us

connoisseurs.

     We set sail, or rather motor, on Sunday.  I expected something like a glorified

rowboat with sails, not the ninety foot monster with four young sailors, with cook plus

galley‑boy, manning the vessel.  It was utter luxury.  Tris and I shared a state‑room with the

Thugs.  We four shared the huge double‑bed and shared our love for each other as well.  Ivo

said any port in a storm before Tris and I silenced him with a full‑frontal attack on his

muscly body.  Adam said he was missing Whippet and would miss him even more when he

was on his lonely own in America.  We were all very serious as Ivo told him he was not to do

anything there which might endanger their relationship and definitely nothing which would

put him at risk.  "Just see if you can beat wank‑happy here's record single‑handed, and I

mean single‑handed!"  I think Adam had enough loving in those three days to last him until

he saw Whippet again.

     Everyone thoroughly enjoyed the trip.  On the last day, as we reluctantly returned to

our home port, Pietro and Brandon were elected Captain and First Mate and were presented

with tubes of antiseptic ointment for good seamanship by Frankie and Zack, who had found

them in the medicine cabinet of the cabin they shared with Oliver and Eddie.  Brandon was

now used to the provocative remarks which their appearance, all bright‑eyed now, at

breakfast produced.  "If anyone needs this," he said without a flicker, "Pietro and I will be

happy to apply it to the afflicted parts.  You may line up outside our room at ten o'clock

tonight."

     Needless to say, two boys wrestling with intractable problems on their game‑boys,

were disturbed by a knock on their door at the appointed hour, and ten lined up lads asked for

assistance with their hurts.  The first three, Adam, Frankie and Guido, all had partly peeled

bananas poking out of the fly of their shorts.  Brandon took one look, grabbed Adam's

extension, gave a good imitation of a Toad sneer and shut the door hurriedly.   Oliver

dropped to his knees in front of Guido and bit off the two inches of peeled banana on view to

howls of laughter, and on getting up said he'd be round for the rest later.  We went back to

the main room giggling, ready to tackle another two or three bottles of the fine white wine so

generously provided by a laughing Unc and his companion who seemed continually amused

at our antics.

     Frankie and Unc, with Aldo in attendance spent one morning going over a sheaf of

suggestions which Frankie had conjured up about new and different products for trendy

European teens.  Frankie had already told me he had been reading the business pages of the

Times each day to see what was happening in the clothing world and was advising Unc not to

go in for trainers as the market seemed dominated already by a couple of big companies.

Unc cornered me after the conference and was full of praise.  "That boy has ideas and do you

know what else he has done?"  I didn't know, but it turned out that Frankie and Jack had

gone to as many of the stores and shops selling adolescent wares in our area and along

Oxford Street in Central London, asking if they had Matteoli brand stuff and waving the

catwalk photos and cut out articles from the magazines and papers.

     As they did this separately and on several occasions, approaching different sales

assistants who were told to take notes and give them to their manager, they had made contact

with about thirty outlets all told.  Aldo immediately asked for addresses which an astute Jack

had listed and Aldo set their sales team on sending catalogues to the shops.  He also got in

touch with Jacob who was happy to advise and suggested a finance house with a branch in

Cambridge who could assist.  Aldo flew off to London the next day with one of the sales staff

who could speak good English, and Toad had a self‑satisfied look on his face for the rest of

the time.  Good for him, I thought.  Enterprise.

     The holiday was beginning to wind down as the younger lads would have to return to

England for school.  First, though, was the horror for three of them as the day approached

when their GCSE results would be announced.  Tris had the good idea of who would phone

home first by making Zack, Eddie and Francis draw numbers from a hat.  They drew them in

that order and Zack was first to phone.  His mother had the results all ready opened and he

was soon smiling as all ten had been passed with distinction throughout.  Toad was almost

jumping up and down with frustration as Eddie's Gran insisted on asking how he and Oliver

and that lovely boy Zack were, and were they liking Italy, and were they behaving

themselves?  It was all 'Yes, Gran,', 'Yes, Gran,' until at last he asked what his results were.

She must have passed him over to his Grandfather as things got more succinct.  "Thanks,

lovely, see you soon," and a great smile and sigh of relief.  He was OK, too.  Sixth Form

loomed.

     Frankie, of course, in his haste mis‑dialled.  "Stupid boy!" said Eddie, "Leave off the

zero, I told you!"  A vicious sneer.  Then a look of triumph as Mum read out his results.  "Oh,

ta.  See you next week!"  He swung round and hugged Eddie and, for a macho‑lad, gave him

a smacking great kiss full on the lips.  "Thanks, you've been brill.  I was worried."  He

looked at me and grinned.  "Better than you, matey.  I did Music and IT.  Eleven!"

Champagne before ten o'clock in the morning wasn't bad!

     I found that my usually so‑confident brother had been really worried about what his

results might be and stalwart, no‑nonsense, Eddie had been a real support.  I realised that,

like me, there was an underlying sense of not being quite on top of things.  I knew that from

my initial qualms about Maths and I knew I was overcoming that to a greater extent.  I knew

I had to be a support too to my brother ‑ not little now, as over the last couple of months he

had grown within a half inch or so of my six foot one.  I had hugged him to me when he'd

announced his results and he'd responded with the most loving hug back.  I whispered,

"You're the tops!" and he'd whispered back "And so are you!".

     Mum and Dad came out at the beginning of the week the younger lot with Ivo and Adam were scheduled to go home.  We saw little of the pair of them as they spent most of the time sorting Grandma out.  Francis and I had been to see her a couple of times during the stay and she, although glad to see her immense grandsons, as she said, spent most of the time telling us of the iniquities of her neighbours and her sister, Nesto's Gran, in particular.  I went with Mum one day when Dad had gone with the boys on the usual boat trip round the bay.  Mum really lost her temper and I remained in the background when the flow of Italian started.  I deciphered some but I guessed most was in the Palermo version of Italian and when Mum had finished Gran looked suitably chastened.  I was actually hugged so hard when we said goodbye I had sore ribs where she'd gripped me.  "I don't know what I would do without my Angel..."  She always shortened Mum's name to that.  "...I am a silly old woman who knows no better.  And you are such lovely boys and must come to see me, please.  Tell my Francesco I love him and I want to see dear Aldo's son."  I wondered what Charles would make of the stately Italian whirl‑wind with the Bronx accent.

            True to form, she gave me two ten‑euro notes, one each for Frankie and myself.  Mum was laughing as the car arrived to take us back to the Villa.  "I wonder how long that will last," she said, "I expect Francesco will be on the phone next week asking me to sort out the next crisis.  And don't spend all that money at once!"  Stingy wasn't in it!

     Mum and Dad left with the Thugs, escorting Eddie, Brandon and a protesting Frankie.  He was miffed as there had been a mix‑up with the plane bookings and Oliver and Zack were staying for another three days.  I held him while Tris smacked his bare backside when he started his moans in our room the night before departure and he'd come to see if we had any goodbye presents for him.  His saggy board‑shorts came down, to the giggles of Brandon and Eddie who had followed him in, especially as he was going commando and everything flopped out on view.  He wasn't too concerned.  "You two can't get enough of my backside...." he began, then realised the misinterpretations which could ensue, "..Why do I always get beaten? Come on Eddie, let's give these two the works."  But Eddie was laughing too much and Brandon wasn't joining in either, so Frankie got an extra smack, then all three were given those trashiest souvenirs we had found on one of our visits to a shop by the Cathedral.

     That night and the next two nights, Zack and Oliver followed us into our bedroom

and the most intense love‑making of my experience so far between four lads took place.

Those times with my cousins were seminal in my sexual history for their passion and

sensuality.  Now, over three nights, four young men shared themselves with each other so

completely and with such intensity of feeling, new, unbreakable bonds were forged, which

we all knew would stand the test of time.  Yes, at seventeen, Zack was the youngest, but, on

that first night I found him to be the tenderest and most ardent lover, reminding me so much

of my Tris it was uncanny.  As we held each other he told me how much those simpler

encounters with Tris and me had given him the release and freedom he needed to come to

terms with his sexuality.  He said he treasured every moment of those times and these had

been the basis of his love for Oliver.  He wanted Oliver, he needed Oliver and he knew in his

heart Oliver felt the same for him.  "Everyone says I'm older than my years.  Oliver may be

more than two years older than me but we really feel equal.  I hope I can give him the love

and affection he's missed in those two years and what he gives me now.  Tonight, I want to

share all that love and affection with you and Tris fully.  You showed me the way to begin

and  I want you to love me as completely as I love Oliver."

     Our hands had explored each other's bodies and as he turned on his back I laid on top

of him.  He pulled me tightly to him and our tongues duelled as our lips brushed against each

other.  He lifted his legs and I reached down and found him.  He was moist.  He had already

prepared himself.  A finger entered easily.  I leaned back and looked at him.  He smiled and

another finger entered and I felt as far as I could.  The smile remained.  I had to withdraw a

little and he looked and waited as I pressed my third finger as well.  "Please," he whispered

and from the murmurs on the bed beside us we knew another pair were preparing for the

same engagement.  My fully rigid tool was ready and as I withdrew my fingers I pressed it

into its waiting home.  Slowly I urged my length forward and there was no resistance, just a

complete acceptance.  I was fully in.

            "I want to feel you all.  Fuck me slowly, just slowly," he said in a low voice already showing he was undergoing the most intense feelings.  I did asI was bid.  I kept up as slow and steady a rhythm as I could.  He responded with those wonderful spasms of internal and external muscles which could only serve to intensify my own enjoyment.  I collapsed over him as I came in massive jolts and tears of joy flowed and dripped on him.  It was almost a replay of  the first time I had entered Tris and a replay of the many times I had entered him since.  My Tris, my Zack, almost one.  "Stay," he whispered and kept me fully hard with more slow contractions of those muscles.  My second explosion caused me to gasp.  The release, physical and emotional was immeasurable.  As I withdrew I realised he had also come.  Once or twice, I didn't know.  I brushed my fingers through the sticky fluid and with feathered kisses shared his wonderful boycream.

     The other pair had also consummated completely their love for each other.  Oliver

moved his head towards Zack and they kissed.  I leaned towards Tris and we exchanged our

love for each other by nuzzling each other's necks, a sign we always used as a readiness to

begin our love‑making.  I withdrew from Zack.  He whispered, "I still feel full.  It must be

what you've left in me."  I knew that feeling as each time Tris withdrew that mighty weapon

of his I felt so filled with the memory of him, caused, I assumed, by that stretching which

must take place.  "Remember me, just like that," I said and kissed his now quite bristly

cheek.

     We lay and stroked each other in that post‑coital drowsiness.  Later, more awake, we

exchanged partners and as I, now on my back and gazing into those lovely blue eyes, hooded

by eyelids as he was far gone in sexual want, was prepared and entered by Oliver the

beautiful.  Both Tris and I had lusted over that young god.  We had watched while he, with

us, had fired those youthful loads and had only just restrained ourselves from taking him to

bed as we stripped for our shower beforehand.  Now tonight, those fantasies became reality.

Tris had filled him with his love and now it was my turn to be filled and loved by him.  In the

first moments I couldn't get enough of his body, nor he, mine.  We felt each other, tenderly

gripping those muscles and the thin layers of flesh on our jointly slim upper bodies.  We

turned head to tail and lapped and sucked thighs, knees, buttocks, balls, navels, nipples,

anything that came in reach of our wanton and probing tongues.  We righted ourselves and he

began that exploration of me, my legs over his shoulders, which culminated in the full

insertion of that sexual engine of his which matched in size, power and intensity of purpose

that of my beloved Tris.

            He fucked me as I had fucked his partner, slowly but with power and strength.  Zack could not have chosen anyone better to love and from this powerful young man would receive the love he so richly deserved.  A match made in Heaven kept recurring to me as I became lost in the reveries associated with the ardent loving of his partner and now mine for the moment.  My hips were bucking as I gushed.  Even for the third orgasm of the night I felt the drops rain on my chest as I was folded over with him so deep in me.  He called out as he came and we lay completely exhausted and replete.  "Oh, Mark," he whispered as the gasps reduced, "You have been my idol ever since we met.  Tomorrow I want you."

     I whispered he'd also been my heart's desire and he said, with a little chuckle, that

Tris had said the same, but truly, young Frankie had been right.  Any sign of either of us

giving up the other and he would have been there, pronto.  He got a little slap on his backside

for that and we giggled together and shared our joy with the other two whose second

coupling of the night had also ended.  There was much stroking and feeling of each other

before we took our own partners in our arms and slept.

     Nothing was said in the morning.  There was nothing to say.  We had shared each

other and there was more to come.  Much more to come.  We lay content, taking pleasure in

the last few days we had of bright Italian sun, with them joking that I was so tanned, I would

have a hard time getting through immigration.  The others, fair haired, were just a delectable

golden brown.  We laughed, there were no tan lines on any of us.

     We watched the interplay between the other couple, Guido and Nesto.  They were

even darker than me having had the benefit of more earlier sun.  The solicitousness of Guido

towards his partner was most touching.  Nesto, with such goodness of heart, did not take it

for granted and we could see he reciprocated that loveliness with his own tender responses.

We also watched young Pietro, cock now healed but in frequent sole use by it's owner,

according to a laughing Nesto.  He busied himself around the garden taking on the role

played in the past by Guido and Nesto.  He was an industrious young lad and also helped the

pool‑boy, now much less shy and fascinated by the sight of nude lads laughing and joking as

they lay in the sun, or shade when too hot.

     That next night the interactions were completed between the four of us.  Zack was as

considerate a giver as he was as responsive as a receiver.  As last night with him, he came

twice in me, accompanied each time at the final thrusts with little gasps of sheer exhilaration.

We lay and cuddled and whispered all sorts of secret things until it was my turn to share my

love with Oliver.  Again the rapport between us was as I experienced with Tris.  I said this as

we lay afterwards in that shared euphoria.  Tris said he felt the same and felt he had been

almost revitalised in love and affection by all that had happened.  Oliver said he had felt

somewhat sad seeing us so happy and together during the first part of the year and rued that

there had been wasted years for him for love and affection, but Zack in such a short time had

made up for any feelings like that.

     On the night before our flight back we still shared the bed in our room but partner

was with partner and being just together, the four of us, I think, heightened the love‑making

between us.  We heard each other making love in their own way and if an orgasmic climax

was imminent in one pair it seemed to spur the arrival of that moment in the other.

     At breakfast the next morning our young Italian friends were almost despondent at

our imminent departure.  We assured them we would be back and if they wanted to

experience a cold and wet England ‑ the typical Italian misconception ‑ they should visit us.

We then reviewed the holiday and we were amazed.  Over all those weeks, with twelve lads

at times in residence, there had never been any moments of dissension, no quarrels, no

outbursts of temper, no sulks ‑ just good‑natured, wonderful enjoyment and we were

eternally grateful to Unc and his partner for providing us with these wonderful surroundings

and the care and attention lavished on us.  We just hoped we hadn't been a burden or a

nuisance.  Aldo came in just as we were saying this and said that he and Francesco had

remarked on the same lines about the rapport between us all from oldest to youngest and had

insisted that they looked on all of us as their sons and they had the greatest pleasure in

sharing their own good fortune with us.

     Just before we left to go to the airport Aldo had a hurried conference with Tris.  We

had about a week before term started.  Would he work with Jacob in helping to set up the

liaison between the Italian and the English strands of the enterprise.  In England they were

also launching a separate company and logo ‑ Leopardi.   Tris accepted with alacrity.  The

hands‑on experience with the law involved would be of immense value.

     Uncle Francesco, as usual, was more than generous and a sheaf of cheques in

envelopes for distribution to all the lads was handed to Tris.  I didn't enquire what others

received but I gasped when I saw the amount entered on mine.  I tried to thank him.  He just

laughed.  "There's me and Aldo.  He's got a son.  You and Francis  and your Tris are the

nearest thing I have to the next generation.  So accept and use wisely."

To be Continued: