His Beautiful Boy - 4. "Le Contrecoup"

Antoine's eyes opened and met an empty room. His body lay stretched on Lorenzo's bed, belly down and still naked. He could hear the shower running and a faint, melodious whistling from the bathroom. His head was heavy, and he felt slightly queasy. As he attempted to pull himself up, he felt a sudden discomfort between his legs, so he placed his left elbow under his body and took his right hand towards his bottom. As soon as he skimmed his ass cheeks, he felt a moist substance that became thicker and more abundant as he drew closer to his hole. The more he touched himself, the more drenched his hand became, and he could feel the soreness as he carefully glided his fingers through it. He looked around the room, bewildered. As he attempted to search for his clothes, a subtle feeling of anxiety overpowered him. He picked himself off the bed and paced around the room, cum dripping down his legs.

The hot steam from the water in the next room began lurking inside and moved through the floor like a ghostly mist. Antoine stuck his head outside the bedroom, into the living room, and uncovered his clothes on the floor near the small table. He proceeded to pick them up and get dressed hastily, and as he kneeled next to the table, he caught a glimpse of Oscar's beer bottle, still standing there, half full, and his eyes immediately teared up. Like a lightning bolt, everything came rushing in, and Antoine suddenly felt his legs weaken and stagger uncontrollably. He paused, turned his body, and sat back on the couch. His hands rushed over his head and stayed there as they held the weight of his guilt.

"Fuck..." He uttered with a bleak tone.

As he raised his head, he noticed Lorenzo slanting over the doorway, completely naked and still soaked, steam spewing from his shoulders, his soft dick dangling as he modeled a mischievous grin. He was the most beautiful and sensual man Antoine had ever seen. As he stood gazing at him, Antoine's first instinct was to get up, leap in his arms, and offer himself to the Italian stud again. The short distance between them seemed unbearable, and his heart dashed. Inside his pants, his hole was twitching. But once again, a dark cloud of guilt snuck up on the boy as he felt a surge of tears boiling inside. He leaned back on the couch and stared at the Italian hunk, conflicted.

"Morning, boy. You sleep good? He asked, with a gentleness Antoine hadn't seen from him yet. The boy shook his head reluctantly. "We do this again, sì?" Lorenzo proposed as he walked back to the room, grabbing a pair of shorts and putting them on. He walked into the living room and stood beside Antoine, his dick pushing under the shorts. "We fuck again. But Lorenzo let French boy rest a bit, sì? Come tonight." He instructed.

"Dude, I can't," Antoine responded, his voice cracking. "This was wrong. I need to speak to Oscar. He must be so pissed." He said, his voice loaded with trepidation.

"He come around. But Oscar boy afraid," Lorenzo said as he strode around the table, sinking onto the couch and facing Antoine.

"What the fuck do you know?" Antoine muttered inwardly. Lorenzo gazed at the boy for a moment. There was sadness in his countenance. A melancholy that didn't seem to fit his external toughness. But before Antoine could acknowledge it, he shifted back.

"Tonight, when everyone asleep, you come. I will show you more good time, sì? He expressed arrogantly.

"Dude, I'm not coming," Antoine exclaimed as he got up and started walking towards the exit, visibly sore. As he reached the back door to the garden, Lorenzo's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hey, French boy," he hollered, making the boy face him. "You will come. Many times." He teased with a subtle wink.

Antoine opened the door and slammed it. As he stood outside, he looked around, befuddled. It was still dark. He could feel a cold breeze in the air, and the house was dormant, so he assumed it was still dawning. He looked towards the house, over at his room window, and sighed. He watched the grass incline that extended towards the river and started slowly ambling there with his hands in his pockets as he occasionally glanced at the balcony where Oscar stood the night before. The further he walked, the tighter his chest felt. An odd cold surge of despair was building in his abdomen, and the boy felt like throwing up. He quickened his pace and soon was sprinting towards the river.

As he reached it, his legs caved, and he fell with his knees on the cold grassy floor, his arms pushing the ground, trying to hold his weight as his head caved in. He wept. He initially tried to silence his cries by covering his mouth with his hand, but soon, they broke free, and only the distance between him and the house could conceal his anguish. And as Antoine kneeled there, alone on that cold morning, crying himself out of his predicament, there was nothing but the glooming dawn to soothe him.

He eventually tired down, picked himself off the ground, and walked back up the grass path and into the house. He gently opened the large door and tiptoed up the stairs into the bedroom hallway. The floor would crack every two steps, and he would halt himself momentarily before resuming. He entered the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He turned around to find that an eerie silence reigned. He went straight for the bathroom, stripped his alcohol-smelling clothes, jumped in the shower, and turned on the water. He waited for it to get hot and slowly squeezed his smooth, cum drenched body under it. He gradually washed away the odor of sex, the pungent smell of dried cum, and the dirt on his hands from his meltdown in the garden. He felt cleaner, but his heart remained tainted. He dried himself, trying not to wake Oscar, and walked to the bed.

The light puncturing the balcony's glass doors revealed that his bed was now back to its original place, no longer attached to Oscar's. Antoine's heart sank. Those beds were becoming the expression of his relationship with his friend. Antoine lay on it, facing up as he fought the urge to look over at Oscar. Unable to contain himself, he tilted his head sideways and gazed at Oscar, who faced up, his arms crossed over the sheets, with his eyes open and looking at the ceiling. Antoine turned his body towards his friend as his heart pulsed uncontrollably. He had never been nervous around Oscar, but the weight of his actions had strained their intimacy, and he knew he had to try to make amends.

"Oscar?" He asked, his gentle voice trembling with anxiety. Oscar took a deep breath and faced the other way, towing the sheets up to his neck and blocking himself from Antoine's sight. Under a deafening silence, they both fell asleep while a treacherous river of complex emotions, of which they knew very little, poured through and began to fill that space between their beds.

Antoine woke up much later to an empty room. He quickly raised his head, hoping to catch his friend still in bed, but his excitement was short-lived. Oscar was already gone, and his bed was immaculate. He dropped his face on the pillow and sighed. Trying to get through to Oscar would be difficult, but as the day's translucency settled, Antoine began to rally the courage to try and patch things up. He decided he would chase Oscar around until he spoke to him. Antoine understood Oscar and knew him incapable of holding a grudge for long, no matter how bad the situation was. He bounced off the bed, put his shorts and tank top on, quickly and lazily brushed his teeth, and flew out the door, dashing down the stairs. Halfway through, he started to hear a commotion.

"Elena, grab me my jacket." Oscar's mother shouted from outside the front door.

"Thank you, Elena." Mr. Steiner said, grabbing his wife's coat from her hands. "We will be back after dinner. Tell Lorenzo to take the day off." He informed as he stepped outside towards the car.

Antoine stood silently at the edge of the stairs. Once Elena closed the door and left for the kitchen, he slid down and ran toward the living room to one of the windows facing the driveway. Oscar was inside the car, his raven hair nestling on the backseat. His father hopped inside and started the car. It drove off. Antoine couldn't believe it. They left him behind. How could Oscar do that? His sadness came rushing in again like a tidal wave. His reconciliation plans seemed further and further away at this point. He let his forehead sink into the window glass as he watched his friend's family car drive away. And now he was left alone in that house.

"Antoine, love, hai bisogno di qualcosa?" Elena asked as she emerged from behind a startled Antoine.

"Nah...thank you, Elena." He said as he attempted to disguise his disappointment.

"No be sad, love. Today is family time, yes?" She consoled him as she took her hand and softly skimmed the boy's cheek.

"I thought I was family..." Antoine mumbled, fiddling his fingers on the window drapes.

"You and Oscar upset, yes?" She questioned, to which Antoine just shrugged. "Siete amici da quando erano bambini...He will forgive. Oscar is good-hearted boy, like you." She noted, grabbing the boy's head and sowing a soft kiss on his forehead. "I go meet my family. You have food in fridge. A dopo amore." She declared as she waved and left through the front door.

And with that, Antoine was alone in the house. He took a deep breath and started dragging his feet across the floor. The boy walked to the hallway, his hands on his hips, sighing with boredom. He trekked back upstairs toward his room. Along the way, he noticed another door in the hallway he had never acknowledged before, slightly slimmer than the others. Antoine looked around, and remembering he was alone, he grinned mischievously and hopped in its direction like a child, playing a thief. He reached for the doorknob and turned it. It was open.

"Jackpot." He uttered.

There was a steep flight of stairs to an attic-like section of the house. Antoine could smell the dust in the air as he went up, the wooden floor cracking with each step he took. He reached the top of the stairs to find a vast chamber as big as the whole first floor of the house. There were books, large and small paper boxes, old clothes, hats, dusty old bikes, and a large mirror. There were a couple of round windows on the sides of the walls. He tried to open one, but it seemed stuck. He pulled the curtains over it, and suddenly, the whole room lit up with the rays of light creeping inside. Antoine looked around, surprised that he had been to this home every year since he was seven years old and had never taken an interest in exploring this part of the house. He took a deep breath and found the smell extremely pleasurable. It was as if nostalgia and that hidden history had a fragrance of dark wood and mothballs.

He roamed the attic for a while, perusing through aged clothes and dusty books. He found an old suede hat with satin layering. He took his nose and sniffed the inside, placing it on his head as he walked to the mirror. He watched himself closely as his fingers started caressing his chest. He skimmed them over his shirt, pinching his nipples and touching his pecs. With his left hand, he started rubbing his crotch. The longer he did, the more eager he got, and his bulge was now considerable and endeavoring to break free. He crossed his arms, grabbed the edges of his tank top, and pulled it out in a single move.

His smooth chest was now undisclosed, a small fuzz streak of blonde hairs bursting from his pelvis, circling his belly button and dissipating. His pecs weren't as broad as Oscar's since he was always skinnier in size, but Antoine admired that about Oscar. He always found ways to secretly look without him noticing and would later jerk off, thinking about Oscar's wide thighs and broad shoulders. They had just fallen out, but looking at his stripped chest in that mirror and thinking about Oscar, he missed being able to look at his friend without him turning his back to him. His chest instantly tightened with guilt. He looked at himself in the mirror and rolled his eyes.

"You're an idiot." He told his reflection.

He started wandering around the attic, perusing through the old memorabilia. He stopped near an old desk. As he sat on the wobbly chair, he opened the first drawer. It had nothing of importance, just some old pens and stamps. He opened the second drawer. Inside were these old Polaroids, all hooked by a wide elastic band. Antoine took them in his hand, ripped the cord out, and started going through them, one by one. Some of them looked old, maybe from the 70s. In some of them, he could vaguely recognize a young man. He leaned forward on the desk and planted his elbows over it, bringing the photos toward the light coming through the circular windows. And then, suddenly, it hit him. The young man in the pictures was Mr. Steiner. He was always with two other men, older, maybe in their late thirties.

About 20 Polaroids in, they changed and were now colored photos. Some were sceneries, just random pictures of the villa and group pics of young people by the lake. Then suddenly, in one of them, he saw a young man, another very familiar face, but this one didn't take Antoine long to figure out who it was. It was a young Lorenzo. He immediately gasped. He couldn't be older than he was right now, and as could be expected, he looked ravishing. He was the most beautiful boy Antoine had seen, with the looks of a movie star. But as Antoine's eyes drew closer, he started to notice something. The expression on Lorenzo's face in the pictures, his demeanor, there was just something distinct. Antoine couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. Almost as if he had grown into a completely different person. The boy in those Polaroids had an innocence and joy Antoine had never witnessed in Lorenzo. He dropped the photos on the table and stood there, scanning them, before leaning backward on the chair.

When he did, he noticed something inside the drawer, a slight gap in the bottom, enough to fit a small finger. He took his pinky, reached inside, and pulled the small wood plate out. His eyes froze. Antoine reached his hand inside and took out a small pile of photos hidden underneath. Once he laid them on the desk, his chest got searing and tense as he gazed at Polaroids of a naked young Lorenzo. They seemed to have been taken there, in the attic where he stood. Antoine couldn't believe it. Did Lorenzo take them himself? If not, who did? They seemed almost staged. As he looked through them, besides being incredibly weirded out, he couldn't help feeling his groin tingle as the rush of blood reached his pelvis, opening the way for his famished dick to feast. Lorenzo looked so beautiful, his body so manly, so powerful, even at a young age, with his tanned skin tone, the chest fuzz, and the raven curly hair. For a moment, Antoine felt proud that he had experienced the bliss of being handled by such a fine specimen. And yet, another part of him felt uncomfortable about his discovery. Something seemed off about those photos. He quickly decided to keep a few to himself, carefully restoring the remaining ones to their original location as he tried to cover up his tracks.

Antoine started scanning the room. Leaning over a wall across from him was a large mattress. Antoine strolled over and kicked it toward the ground. It fell slowly at first and hit the ground with a thumping sound. As it dropped, a cloud of dust rose from the ground, hovering in the air before slowly descending. Antoine faced one of the windows, his naked chest lit by the sunlight, and plunged his whole body onto the now protected floor. His body bounced a couple of times before finally resting on that improvised bed. He felt alone, and yet he felt peaceful. A serene solitude he had never experienced before. He was always so used to being loud, being the life of the party, and as he lay in that attic, in that large empty house, he finally felt like himself. He pulled his arm up, holding young Lorenzo's naked photos, and as he looked at them, he released a chuckle. Maybe he and Lorenzo weren't that different. Maybe Lorenzo saw a little bit of himself in him. Maybe even Oscar. But what happened to that boy in the pictures? The look on that boy's face wasn't the same as the man fucking him the night before. He sank his arm, placing the photos in his pocket, crossed them over his belly, and closed his eyes. As the sun bathed his body, the heat held Antoine in a warm embrace and shepherded him to sleep.

"Antoine? Antoine? Wake up, boy." A resounding voice spoke from the dark.

"What?" Antoine muttered. He opened his eyes and slanted his head back, catching Mr. Steiner standing at the top of the stairs. When he tilted his head further, he saw Oscar standing behind him with a stern look. "Mr. Steiner...you're back," he said, disoriented.

"What are you doing up here, Antoine?" Mr. Steiner questioned.

"Sorry, I just...got bored." He replied as he scratched his head.

Mr. Steiner glanced around momentarily, and Antoine couldn't help but notice he seemed to be looking for something. He looked at Oscar and turned around, putting his hand on his son's chest.

"I'll let you take care of this." Mr. Steiner stated as he exited down the stairs. Antoine and Oscar stood silent for a moment. Oscar walked toward the window and stopped there as he gazed outside.

"I used to come here when my dad scolded me as a child," he stated, never bringing his eyes to face Antoine. It was a lot cleaner at the time," he noted as he skimmed his finger on the window glass.

"I thought you weren't speaking to me," Antoine said, chafing the mattress's surface with his nails.

"What's the point? It's not like you care what I think..." Oscar rebutted.

"I care," Antoine replied, turning his head and facing his friend. Oscar's eyes remained hidden from him, staring outside.

"If you cared, you wouldn't have done what you did." Oscar shot back.

"I just wanted to get your attention. I guess things escalated..." Antoine declared nervously.

"Escalated!" Oscar roared, finally facing Antoine. "You let Lorenzo fuck you in front of me!" He persisted, trying to contain his anger as he lowered his voice. Antoine didn't respond, nor couldn't. He just stood there and relinquished the space his friend needed to purge. He knew Oscar enough to acknowledge that need. "Was it good?" Oscar questioned. Antoine hesitated. "Well?" He reinforced.

"Yes," Antoine affirmed. "It was." He reiterated. Oscar sealed his eyes in pain like an arrow had pierced his chest.

"What happened after I left?" Oscar scoured.

"Don't do this..." Antoine beseeched.

"Tell me!" Oscar hailed.

"Fine!" Antoine hollered as he got up, closing in on Oscar, their faces practically touching. "He fucked me in every position! He fucked me so hard that I almost passed out! And I can't stop thinking about it!" Antoine yelled, his voice cracking and his eyes dampening.

"Do you love him?" Oscar questioned, their faces so close now they could feel their breaths on each other.

"No," Antoine uttered as he tried to catch his breath. Suddenly, his head dropped on his friend's chest hard enough that Oscar teetered. Antoine started weeping. "It didn't mean anything..." He mumbled in between sobs. Oscar dropped his nose near Antoine's blonde curls and smelled his hair. His eyes closed as he took in the scent.

"Why?" He asked almost tenderly, shifting his tone.
"Because..." Antoine tried to utter the words, but they were held hostage by his anguish. "Because..." His hands came up and grabbed Oscar's arms by the sides, his face still buried in his best friend's chest. "Parce que tu n'étais pas là..." Antoine whispered.

"Anthony..." Oscar uttered. But his pride took hold of his tongue.

"Boys? Dinner is ready. Come down." Oscar's mother said from the bottom floor.

Oscar broke contact first, pulling away as Antoine's arms slipped from their grip on him, falling by the side. He felt Antoine's arms as they struggled to let him go. Oscar walked over to the stairs and looked back at Antoine, who remained in the same spot. He went down. That night, Antoine didn't join them for dinner. He spent the rest of the evening in his room, in his bed. He felt exerted but couldn't sleep. Later in the evening, Oscar came to the room, brushed his teeth, stripped his undies, and went to bed. Antoine felt him look at him a few times, but he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He had finally opened himself to Oscar. But his friend's coldness told him their relationship was perhaps beyond repair. Oscar eventually turned his back to him and fell asleep.

Antoine knew what he had to do. He got up, put on his shorts and shirt, and left the room silently. The boy transited the hallway, descended the large staircase, opened the front door, and walked over to Lorenzo's annex. He knocked on the door a couple of times. After a moment, the door opened, and Lorenzo stood there in his shorts and nothing else. His broad chest, strong muscular arms, and chiseled gut were fully revealed. He stuck his head outside, peeked around, gazed at Antoine, and smiled.

"You come." He said cheekily.

"Can I come in?" Antoine questioned. Lorenzo nodded, scanning the boy from head to toe as he walked over to the table between the couches. Antoine entered but left the door slightly open. He had no intention of staying. "Oscar hates me, and it's all my fault."

"Oscar not hate you. Now come here." Lorenzo expressed calmly.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? You knew what you were doing!" Antoine shouted.

"You too, French boy. You wanted Lorenzo as Lorenzo wanted you. And you want Oscar boy to be jealous." Lorenzo asserted.

"We broke him." The boy uttered. And at that moment, Antoine realized what he had done. "We broke him..." He reiterated. "I hurt my best friend, and you let it happen." He sounded. But Lorenzo didn't move an inch or display any guilt. "You knew he idolized you, and you still hurt him." He mumbled as he paced around nervously in front of Lorenzo, but the Italian hunk seemed unphased. "You're not gonna say anything?" Antoine asked, now enraged.

Lorenzo looked at the boy standing before him, begging for answers, for a way to fix his mistake. And for a moment, his eyes appeared to shift. For a fleeting instant, Antoine saw the same countenance in Lorenzo's eyes as the boy in those old pictures. But it was short-lived.

"Emotions make weak men, French boy." Lorenzo expressed, his voice breaking slightly, like a small crack on a hard surface. "Admit. You provoke Lorenzo. Lorenzo gives what you want. You want last time. And you want now. I can see in your eyes." He stirred.

Without warning, Antoine lunged at Lorenzo, punching him. Lorenzo propelled himself from the couch and grabbed Antoine by the wrists as the boy flailed his arms around, trying to hit him again. He pushed Antoine over to the wall. And despite the boy's efforts, the sheer force of Lorenzo's grip was enough to block his moves completely.

"I fucking hate you." Antoine spouted. "I hate you..." He mumbled as he labored to break free now. Lorenzo towered over him at this point, and as Antoine looked up, he saw Lorenzo's eyes. They were misty.

"I know," Lorenzo stated. And as he said it, he looked towards the door.

Standing there, in his shirt, boxers, and socks, was Oscar. Antoine looked at him, stunned. All three men stood there in silence. Lorenzo was still holding Antoine's wrists against the wall, his shirt stretched to his pecs, and his breathing hefty. Oscar grabbed the doorknob, pushed the door slightly, and shut it, turning the key on the lock. He clutched his shirt and pulled it off, exposing his smooth, broad chest, chiseled stomach, and perfect nipples. He threw his shirt on the couch. Then, he took off his socks and stripped his shorts. He had nothing underneath and was now fully naked, his semi-hard beautiful dick dangling between his thighs.

Without flinching, he stepped forward. As he reached the two men, he touched Lorenzo's arm, held it, and carefully packed himself between them. He was now surrounded and embraced by them. He put his hand on Antoine's hips and pulled him closer. Sensing this, Lorenzo unlocked Antoine's hands from his grip, and without a pause, Antoine embraced Oscar. He enfolded his arms around his best friend's neck tightly. Oscar skated his hand on Antoine's back, caressing his soft skin, and pulled their chests together. As Lorenzo began to back away, Oscar's left hand let go of Antoine, seized the Italian hunk's arm and drew him closer again. Lorenzo seemed surprised and fascinated by the gesture. He leaned on Oscar's head and rubbed his face on his hair, sliding down to his ear and landing on Antoine's arms.

"Tonight, we will do this together. As it should have been." Oscar declared under the guise of their embrace.

Lorenzo began moving his hands over Oscar's body, starting from his armpits, through his hips, and down to his ass, where he lingered, his hands relishing the boy's beautiful bubble butt. As he did, Lorenzo started to gently hone his now monstrous cock on Oscar's ass crack. Oscar moaned softly, which enticed Antoine, who unlocked his arms and scoured his friend's eyes. They finally locked, their gaze removing all their hurt, fear, and ache. Tears fell down Antoine's face as he realized his friend had forgiven him. They both smiled. Oscar took his hands to Antoine's face and, with his fingers, mopped his tears. Then he leaned forward and kissed Antoine with the gentleness of a true lover. His cheek. Then his eyelid. Then, his forehead. And then, the tip of his nose. Then he planted a kiss in the corner of his mouth, and as he moved away, he could hear Antoine release a soft, blissful gasp. They locked eyes, and with complete resoluteness, they latched their mouths in a passionate kiss as they finally sealed their love for each other.

Antoine's body collapsed on Oscar's in utter surrender, their lips intertwined as Oscar's tongue danced inside his mouth like a snake. Their moans filled the room and transformed into a stunning melody. Lorenzo's cock squeezed deeper into Oscar's ass, making the boy snap his head back, sinking into the stallion's shoulder and breaking his kiss with Antoine. But he immediately brought his head back up and searched for Antoine. His friend was right there waiting for him with a gentle smile. Antoine sank to his knees, grazing his face on Oscar's hard cock, and pulled Lorenzo's shorts down. The stallion kicked them to the side and swiftly jolted his pelvis forward, pushing his cock between Oscar's legs. Oscar sighed in delight as his deepest fantasies were made real, and as he looked at Antoine, he beamed, for his best friend was right there to usher him through. As Lorenzo rubbed his leaking dick on Oscar's thighs, gradually coating them with his precum, Antoine took a few steps back and stripped naked. His dick was hard and ready. He approached Oscar again, and their tips touched, sharing a sticky greeting before closely joining as they became cornered by the boy's guts. The three men were now a single body, moving in unison. As Lorenzo licked and kissed Oscar's neck, Antoine nibbled on his friend's nipples, delighting in his pink pickled dainties.

Lorenzo pulled away and started moving to the room. He sprang on the bed, rearranging the pillows and leaning on them, exposing his 11-inch monster, throbbing for the boy's attention. Oscar and Antoine, who followed Lorenzo's movements, looked at each other and chuckled mischievously. They sauntered over to the room and stood, on opposite sides of the bed, contemplating the stallion's perfect pulsating cock. They dropped down and nestled themselves next to Lorenzo, with their legs over his legs, heads under his arms, and mouths eager to start feasting.

Antoine took charge. He grabbed it with his left hand, bringing his mouth near it, leaking the precum on the tip, and pulling the foreskin back. His mouth gaped as he swallowed it like a pro, five inches in on the first try. Lorenzo grinned proudly as the boy bobbed his head up and down, conquering his shaft and coating it with his delicious spit. Lorenzo couldn't resist plunging his pelvis forward, taunting his dick further inside, testing the boy's skills. Antoine did not disappoint as he took the hits gladly with almost no gag reflex. Antoine eventually pulled away to check on Oscar, who watched in awe as his friend showed him the ropes. Antoine took his hand, drew Oscar's face near the massive shaft, and began licking the side, gliding his tongue across it, pecking on it with his lips.

Oscar followed suit, and as he emulated his friend and slid his tongue over it, he could feel Antoine's flavor on its veiny surface. It was exhilarating. His glazed lips soon became costumed to it, and he ventured upwards, reaching the tip and opening his mouth, trying to take it in. He immediately gagged and coughed. Antoine met him at the peak and wiggled his tongue on the foreskin, making Lorenzo's body twitch with pleasure. Oscar did the same, and soon, their tongues were dancing playfully alongside each other. From time to time, their eyes would meet, detaching from Lorenzo as they kissed passionately, swapping the stallion's juice between their mouths before going back in. Oscar finally opened his mouth, taking the massive dick inside. Slowly at first, rocking his head up and down. His hand searched for Antoine's, and they held them together as he gobbled more and more of Lorenzo. Antoine leaned his head on Lorenzo's stomach and watched Oscar.

"Bravo, Oscar boy..." Lorenzo groaned as he carefully but steadily fastened his pelvis pace.

Oscar started to struggle, his grip on Antoine's hand becoming tighter. Lorenzo began thrusting his dick inside Oscar's mouth, and while his left arm was still around Antoine, he took his right hand and snared Oscar's hair, readying him for what was to come. Oscar dropped his head next to Antoine as Lorenzo began his ravaging. He started fucking Oscar's mouth with vigor as the boy whimpered, his eyes squinting, precum and spit sliding from his mouth, gagging profusely. Antoine seemed enticed by his struggle, so the boy let go of Oscar's hand and rubbed his rock-hard cock, pulling himself up and taking his lips into Lorenzo's mouth. They lustfully kissed as Lorenzo pummelled and ravaged Oscar's mouth, and the more he moaned and begged, the more the stallion would push the boy's head down and his pelvis while sucking on Antoine's mouth. But as Oscar's noises subsided, the boy verging on a blackout, and as an act of kindness, Lorenzo pulled his hair and brought his face up to meet him. As he did, Oscar released a clangorous gasp.

"Fuck! Oh my god!" He yelled between heavy breaths and coughs. But as he regained his breath, he started laughing, feeling charged and exhilarated. "Fuck, that was crazy." He stated as he licked Lorenzo's hairy nipples and grazed his hand over his firm belly.

"It's my turn," Antoine coached, swiftly moving his left leg and wrapping his thighs around Lorenzo's pelvis.

Oscar took his hand and skated it along Antoine's back and over his ass. He then got on his knees and grabbed the stallion's cock. Antoine bent his chest forward, anticipating his friend's move, as Oscar guided the tip of Lorenzo's shaft into his friend's hungry hole. As he leaned closer, he could see Antoine's sphincter tightening and puckering, begging to be fucked. Oscar grinned with overwhelming satisfaction and pushed Lorenzo's throbbing dick inside. Antoine had the upper hand, and his hole was still loose enough, so when the stallion's dick slid in, it ran all the way inside. 11 inches of pure bliss came over the boy's face as his eyes rolled back, glazed with euphoria.

"Putain!" Antoine clamored as Lorenzo began pounding, leaving him no time to warm up.

The slapping sound of the stallion's pelvis hitting Antoine's cheeks echoed across the room, and Oscar stared mesmerized, seeing Antoine's hole receive Lorenzo's cock, up-close.

"You miss that, French boy?" The Italian hunk questioned as he stretched Antoine's sphincter to the size of a tennis ball.

"Fuck yes." The boy reacted between hefty breaths and the gaping sounds of his hole extending and queefing.

As Lorenzo hammered his cock, Antoine's body bounced upwards with increasing speed, so he wrapped his arms around Lorenzo's neck to hold his body in place and not be thrown over by the stallion's mighty force. He started whimpering and wailing, bringing Lorenzo's fucking to even higher intensity as the bull began to slap his ass and nab his cheeks with his hands. Enthralled by the events, Oscar took his hand to Lorenzo's dick and skimmed his fingers over it, feeling the soaked shaft slide through his hands. He moved up to the edges of Antoine's sphincter, which were now thin and wet. As he grazed his hands on it, he could feel the soft fuzz of blonde hair around it.

Seeing his friend that close brought his groin a renovated itch, and his dick was even stiffer than before and leaking precum. He fell back on his elbows and turned to face that marvelous view. Suddenly, Lorenzo came to a stop. He pulled out, raising Antoine with his arms and throwing him to the side on his back, his head beside Oscar. Antoine seemed utterly zoned out, his eyes reddened and his face sweating profusely. Oscar leaned into him and halted as he reached his face.

"Open your mouth." He hailed.

Antoine obeyed immediately, opening his jaw and sticking his tongue out as he emitted these growling sounds. Oscar straightened himself again and, on his knees, holding Antoine's face with one hand, guided his rigid cock in his mouth. As he inserted the tip, he felt Antoine's tongue moving around. His friend's eagerness and the feel of his tongue on his shaft was the most pleasurable sensation he had ever felt. Unlike the first time they did it, there was no awkwardness or constraint, as they now embraced their shared sexuality. Oscar began plowing his dick inside Antoine's warm mouth, finding a rhythm that Antoine accompanied with his moaning.

Oscar looked at Lorenzo, who seemed transfixed on him. The bull just stood there, his dick throbbing in front of him as he rested with his arms back and his clenched wrist holding the weight of his body. Oscar felt a surge of energy build in his groin, staring at Lorenzo. He suddenly felt empowered, as if, by some form of sorcery, the bull was passing his energy onto him. Oscar's thrusts into Antoine's mouth gradually increased in pace and potency.

Seeing this, Lorenzo propelled forward, grabbed Antoine's legs, bent them, revealing his dilated hole, and propelled himself inside again. He arched his head back in ecstasy and howled. Antoine screamed, but the sound became muffled by Oscar's dick stuffed inside his mouth. Instead of pulling away, he squeezed his arm between Oscar's thighs and grasped his ass, directing his strokes deeper inside. He did the same with Lorenzo, reaching his right arm to his fuzzy abdomen, sanding his hand and nails on it violently.

As both tops began to observe one another, their faces got closer and closer, and once their mouths brushed, they became locked. They never parted, their tongues interlaced, and they never stopped pouncing. Antoine's whines of pain and pleasure erupted like a volcano as both men fucked him aggressively for several minutes. Suddenly, they both pulled out, trying to contain the imminent orgasm. Antoine rolled over, coughing and panting, flushed and out of breath.

"Mon Dieu...I need a break..." He said as he chuckled, his body conquered and sluggish.

Lorenzo looked at him, leaned over the boy, picked him up, and dragged him over the bed, resting his limp body on the pillows, facing up. Then, in an unprecedented move, he turned to Oscar and held his large hand out. Oscar looked at him and then looked down at his hand. Lorenzo's harsh nature had given space to a gentleness neither Oscar nor Antoine had witnessed.

At that moment, Oscar understood, as he peeked into the Italian hunk's eyes, that he was asking for his consent. Oscar reached for the hand, and Lorenzo pulled him softly towards him. The stud kissed his neck, drew him by his hips, and dropped him over Antoine, their stiff dicks frotting. Oscar tried to come back up, but he was now under the bull's grip as he held him down.

"What are you doing?" Oscar questioned nervously. Lorenzo brought his heavy body down on Oscar, his monstrous dick honing between his cheeks, and whispered the words he had been waiting to hear all these years.

"Oscar boy ready. Now I fuck you, sì?" The bull proclaimed.

Oscar looked at Antoine, who was grinning, his face still flushed. Lorenzo dropped his head, his nose gliding gracefully down Oscar's muscular back, reaching his peachy bum and sinking into his crevice. With his manly hands, the stud parted the boy's cheeks, releasing that musky scent, and dove his tongue inside, slobbering his tight sphincter. Oscar blurted out a high-pitched gasp, almost feminine. Antoine chuckled as he grabbed Oscar's face with his hands and forced him to keep staring at him, wanting to savor every expression of pleasure on his face. As the slobbering sounds increased, so did Oscar's wails. Lorenzo would spit on his hole, use his finger to spread it around, and then slide his tongue in, pushing her inside, trying to loosen and relax the boy. He rose on the bed, grabbed his cock with his hand, and started slapping it in the now-soaked cheeks, teasing it with the tip. He put one hand on the mattress next to the boy's body, lifted his ass over Oscar's, and unhurriedly started to lower his body, his dick completely vertical, descending on Oscar's orifice. It slid inside cautiously, towering patiently, waiting for the hole to adapt. Oscar gripped Antoine's arms as he began to feel the pressure building. Antoine clasped his arms on Oscar's neck, pulling his head over his chest.

As Oscar lay there, the thumping sound of his best friend's heart beating, he finally closed his eyes and surrendered. And when he did, Lorenzo plunged his veiny cock inside. There was a collective moan as all three men shared the unbreakable bond of that experience. The most paramount men in Oscar's life were there to help him through his first time. Just as he always intended. Lorenzo drove inside Oscar, but he wasn't fucking him. He was making love to the boy. His thrusts were delicate yet deep, powerful yet passionate. From under Oscar, Antoine gazed at Lorenzo, and as their eyes locked, he saw the harsh exterior of that man melt into the boy in those Polaroids. Lorenzo's eyes dampened as he fought back the tears of joy, euphoria, and bliss.

"My beautiful boy." He uttered, his rough voice cracking at every syllable. "My Oscar." He said, tears rushing down his face.

Suddenly, Lorenzo released a soft grunt, and Oscar felt his hole tighten around the bull's dick. A warm torrent of a thick liquid filled his insides. As Lorenzo shoved deeper, the ropes of cum became lengthier and warmer. It was so much batter that it started spewing over Oscar's thighs and onto the bed. Lorenzo was dead silent. As his stamina subdued, so did the pouncing of his hips as he unloaded. The stallion came to a stop gradually and gracefully pulled himself out, kneeling on the bed, catching his breath. Oscar's hole queefed as he exited, and the boy unleashed a quivering sigh. His cum-covered body lay there, inside Antoine's embrace, with their breaths joined as one.

Lorenzo quietly got off the bed and sat, his dick still searing, on a small corner chair facing the boys, his face drizzled with salty tears, watching them.

"Oscar?" Antoine asked.

"What?" Oscar replied.

"Je t'aime." Antoine pledged.

"I love you too, mon amour," Oscar vowed.

Antoine turned sideways, and Oscar spooned him. They stayed there, unwilling to let go of one another. After a while, Oscar fidgeted and twitched his hips. Driving his pelvis forward, he slid his cock inside Antoine, who moaned softly as his hand came over his shoulder, clutching Oscar's hair. And in the same room that caused him so much pain, Oscar finally made love to Antoine.

Lorenzo left them. He stepped into the living room, put on his shorts and shirt, and walked out the door. Outside, he sniffed the cold breeze and contemplated the events that took place. But the lightness the boys had brought back to him was cut short. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

"Sì?...Where?...Now?...Va Bene." He conversed. He wiped the tears off his face, grabbed his car keys from his other pocket, and hopped on the jeep. He drove off, out of the villa, along the dirt road, and into town. After about a twenty-minute ride, he parked near a small hostel. He entered, and the clerk at the reception handed him a card key.

"Stanza 14." The clerk notified.

"Grazie," Lorenzo replied. He went up the stairs, arrived at the door, and swiped the card. He went inside, closed the door, and stood at the doorway as an older man facing the window addressed him.

"Where were you? You know how hard it is for me to avoid my wife." The deep voice interrogated.

"Sorry, signore. You give me a day off, remember?" Lorenzo countered. Mr. Steiner turned to face Lorenzo, his black tracksuit lit by the small bedside lamp.

"Get over here." He commanded.

Lorenzo dropped his key card on the floor and stripped off his shorts and shirt. He got on all fours and started crawling towards Mr. Steiner, who was now pulling his pants down, exposing his massive uncut cock. As Lorenzo reached him, his mouth opened, and he swallowed his cock, sucking on it eagerly as he whined submissively. With his head tilted back, Mr. Steiner's hand held the Italian hunk's hair and started forcing his dick inside his mouth.

"You're such a good boy, Lorenzo. Mio bel Ragazzo..." He rasped cavernously.

(To be continued...)