Coming of Age
By: Brock Archer
(© 2020 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

barcher@tickiestories.us

Chapter 22
Rough Stuff

In my room, I ripped our clothes off—Pietro’s and mine—and threw him on the bed. I sat on his chest, raised up his head, and fucked his face like a madman. I had to release all the pent-up frustration I had been feeling all day. I was out of control. I rolled him over and shoved lube up his ass. I fucked him with one finger, then two, then three. It’s a wonder that I didn’t shove my whole hand up there. I held his head face down on the pillow as I rammed my cock into him. For 10 minutes, I fucked the shit out of him, then I flipped him over, lifted his legs up over my shoulders, and speared him again.

Periodically, I leaned forward to fuck his mouth with my tongue. I slapped my hands against his pecs and squeezed his nips so tight that it’s a wonder I didn’t twist them off. Every few minutes, I rolled him over and fucked him in a different fashion. I think I even invented a few that I had never seen before.

When I felt myself about to come, I flipped him over on his back again and re-entered him missionary style, pumping his hard cock with my hand as I pounded my dick into his hot ass. His cock pulsated in my hand until he finally exploded white cream all over his chest and stomach.

When I felt myself about to erupt, I pulled out and shot my spunk all over him. After at least a dozen spurts, I collapsed on top of him, squishing our sticky juices between us and rubbing our cocks against each other.

I was so totally spent that my brain was completely devoid of life-essential blood. I had zapped myself into a different dimension. When I finally came out of my delirium, I checked to see if Pietro was still alive or if I had killed him in my frenzy. Apparently, he was just coming out of the same stupor that I had been floating in. I got up, went to the bathroom, and returned with a glass of water for him.

“I’m so sorry, Pietro. I don’t know what came over me. I never meant to get so rough. Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you, signore Rick? That was fucking amazing. I had no idea that sex could be so powerful. I doubt that I will ever experience anything so exhilarating as long as I live.”

“Oh, really?” I asked. “If I weren’t so exhausted, I might take you up on that challenge.”

Just then, we heard the door to the suite open and Troy call out, “Rick, there’s someone here to see you,” and before I could ask who it was, Troy entered the bedroom with a hotel security guard on his heels.

“Mr. Murphy,” said the guard, “we have been receiving some complaints from other guests about the noise coming from this room.”

“What? I thought these walls would be soundproof. I guess we’ll have to tone it down a bit.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be enough,” said a city policeman following Troy and the guard into the room. “You’ll have to come with me, sir.”

“Come with you where?” I asked.

“You’ll have to come with him inside of me,” said Leo, showing himself.

Throwing a pillow at Leo, I chided, “You nearly scared me to death.”

Laughing, Leo said, “He (the guard) is Alfredo, and this (indicating the policeman) is his friend Ricardo.”

“And don’t forget me,” said a voice coming from the sitting room.

“And this is Carlo,” said Leo, indicating the sailor entering the room. “I hope I’m not too late,” said the sailor. “I really need to drop my anchor,” he said, grabbing his crotch.

And just when I thought it could not get any better, in came Lorenzo, one of the models, dressed in one of the cowboy outfits we had worn for the shoot.

Having sex proved to be a bit cumbersome at times because I insisted that the uniformed men not remove any more of their clothes than absolutely necessary. I delighted in fucking them and watching them fuck each other. I just love a man in uniform.

At dinner, all of us, parents and teens, recounted our experiences of the day. Our parents talked about their sightseeing, and we talked about our modeling, not about the hot sex. At the conclusion of the meal, Mike said, “We need to discuss a couple of things.”

Opening a folder, he held up several sheets of paper and announced, “These are the contracts for the next two days’ shoots.”

“Contracts?” asked Troy. “I thought we were not being paid for this gig since there is no sponsor.”

“That’s true for the three days so far, but the next two days are different. The photos that Armando wants to take the next two days are for a book that he plans to publish. In my opinion, and I have told him this, the guys are entitled to a percentage, like royalties.”

Rob and Mr. Andersen, both of whom had substantial business experience, nodded their concurrence. “It won’t be much,” Mike continued, “but you’re entitled to it however much or little it is.”

Everyone voiced agreement and thanked Mike for his diligence and for looking out for us.

“Now, before you sign these contracts, we have to talk about something else.” Everyone sat up in their seats, curious as to what Mike was talking about.

“This book that Armando is preparing, the photographs, they’re nudes.”

“I don’t understand,” said Dad. “Haven’t they been posing nude in Greece and again here?”

“Yes, Dad, they have occasionally been photographed nude, but their private parts have always been concealed, either in the shoot itself or in final publication, so they were never exposing themselves publically. If they follow through with this contract, that’s exactly what they will be doing. The photographs that appear in the book will show them in all their glory.”

Dead silence. No one, including the three of us, quite seemed to know what to say.

“That might be OK for Troy,” said Mom. ”He’s 18, but Rick and Johnny aren’t.”

“True,” acknowledged Mike, “but they will be 18 before the book ever comes out, which won’t be for several months at best.”

“And we sort of discussed this before the shoot in Athens,” I said. “We’ll be 18 in just three months.”

Mom sighed as if to say, “Don’t confuse me with facts. I’m wrestling with this.”

“Are you saying that you’re OK with this, son?” Dad asked me.

“Well, yeah, Dad. I guess I am saying that.”

“Mike,” said Mr. Andersen. “You raised the issue. What do you think?”

“Well, I’ll admit that I had some strong reservations about it at first, but after talking it over with Maria, I think I’m inclined to support it.”

All eyes shifted to Maria. “Maria?” asked Mrs. Mazure with a touch of surprise in her voice. Everyone was looking for an explanation.

“First, let me say that I do understand your reservations,” offered Maria, “and it’s not my place to tell you what you should do with your own sons, but if you want my opinion, I’ll tell you what I told Mike.” Everyone indicated by their non-verbal communication that they were ready to hear what Maria had to say.

“You’ve all seen Armando’s work. He sent you albums of the photos he took at your house (indicating the Andersens), and you all were very impressed with them, right?”

“They were absolutely gorgeous,” said Mrs. Andersen, and everyone else chimed in their agreement.

“And you’ve all seen the work in his gallery and I heard some of you being effusive in your praise of his artistry.” More nods of agreement.

“And some of the works in that gallery are nudes, and I didn’t hear anyone express disgust or disapproval…because they are absolutely magnificent. They are artistic masterpieces.” More nods.

“Armando likes to say that he does not photograph people. He photographs souls as they are revealed in faces and bodies. I think you can see that in the photographs you have seen in his gallery and the photographs he took of your sons. He captured their souls in those photographs, and I’m biased, I admit, but when I look at your sons, including this one,” she said, squeezing Mike’s hand, “I see four of the most beautiful souls I could ever imagine. I don’t have a son,” she continued, “but if I did, I would be eternally grateful to have Armando capture his soul for all the world to see.”

Maria’s words took everyone’s breath away. It was virtually impossible to argue with her premise.

Finally, Dad spoke, “Rick, son, do you want to do this? It’s your call.”

I didn’t speak. I just walked up to Mike, took my contract from his hand, and signed it.

“Show off!” Johnny chided me, as he walked up to Mike and signed his contract too.

“Well,” said Troy, “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Once Armando photographs me, he’s not gonna wanna waste his time with these two.” As everyone chuckled, Troy too signed his contract.

For the next two days, it would be just Johnny, Troy, and me, the three amigos, the tre amici nudi.

You might wonder why it should take two whole days to photograph three naked men. Armando was as meticulous as he had been when he photographed us at the Andersen’s house at Christmas. He photographed us at every angle in all kinds of light and all kinds of positions. He took full-body shots, close-ups, and extreme close-ups of every part of our bodies. He photographed us flexing our muscles and completely relaxing. The photographs were not meant to be sexual, but sexuality was clearly a significant part of our souls, as it is for all living creatures, so it had to come through along with all other facets of our being.

Naturally, at the end of the first day of the “Special Photography Day,” our parents were exceptionally curious about the session. We told them how professional Armando had been and how confident we were that the pictures would be good. We also told them that modeling had been much harder work than we could possibly have imagined. They seemed pleased…and relieved…that we had approached the entire experience so maturely.

We had one more full day in Rome before we all went our separate ways. The three of us decided to spend that time exploring the wonders of The Eternal City together. We met our parents at the Pergola Restaurant for a veritable feast. It was like our last meal before being executed.

As much as I had enjoyed our sexual exploits with the groups, I wanted to spend this night alone with Troy since I would not be seeing him for a whole month. We made sweet, passionate love three times that night and again the next morning. After breakfast, we said our goodbyes. The Andersens were off to explore the Scandinavian countries; Mrs. Mazure, Rob, and Maria were going to accompany Troy to Milan for one more week before Mrs. Mazure had to return to work; and our family, Mike included, was off to Ireland.

To be continued...

Posted: 04/02/2021