A Mario and Luca Saturday

I moaned then as the wand was twirled half way out of my cock. But abruptly stopped, and I groaned and arched my back as he twirled it back down in the channel before pulling it all the way out. I opened my eyes. Mario was looking at me intently. "Buono. Molto bene. There, wasn't that nice?"

I'm sure the wild look in my eyes told him it wasn't very nice, but I couldn't help but show that it also was sexy as hell. I remained ramrod hard. He put the wand back in the case, and, still holding my cock erect with one hand, gave himself several strokes of his own cock with his other hand. Then he reached in for the next larger wand and pulled it out. He lifted it up for me to see. Surprisingly then, he proceeded to twirl it down into his own urethra slit and join me in the sounding. When he took it out of his cock, he moved it to mine, and I moaned deeply as he twirled it into my cock slit.

I collapsed into the chair as the third, longer, thicker wand was deftly twirled slowly down into my cock. And when I relaxed, like with any sex, the pleasure of the sensation of penetration and possession of me by another man overlay the whatever pain there might have been. Mario obviously was adept at this. He had the touch of a surgeon. When the wand was at its greatest depth, Mario moved it in and out, ever so slowly, giving it a twirl as he did so. I moaned deeply in one prolonged sigh as he fucked my cock with the wand.

"There, now it feels nice, sexy, doesn't it?" he murmured. "Now you are appreciating it."

I couldn't have disagreed with him, even if I hadn't been bound and gagged.

He raised himself over me, hovering over me, one end of the wand buried in my cock. He positioned himself over the other end of the wand, and slowly, holding his shaft in one hand and stiff-arm supporting himself with his other fist pressed to the chair surface beside my hip, buried his cock on the wand. He made the wand move inside us both, in and out, until, with a sigh and a "Basta--that's enough," he withdrew from his side of the wand. He wasn't finished twirling it in and out of me, though.

By the fourth wand I had surrendered to it and it, indeed, was very sexy and the tenor of my moans had changed--as had my response to the invasion of the wands. As they twirled into me, I was rocking toward them a bit, going with the fuck of my shaft.

The fifth wand was the highlight I'd never forget. Mario shifted his body, hovering over me. I watched, eyes wide, the fifth largest of the wands buried half in my shaft, as Mario slowly impaled his own urethra canal on the other end of the wand a second time, bringing our two bulbs together, kissing, sharing the wand. This time he brought both of us to a very intimate completion. He was uncut and docked the foreskin of his shaft over my bulb, and he stroked our docked cocks together, joined by the wand, until both of us has released our seed.

Luca came back while Mario was packing the wands back up in the leather case. He laughed.

"Ti ha dato un buon tempo?" Luca asked.

"Sì, un ottimo momento," Mario answered.

I'm not sure I wanted to know what they said, but I understood what Mario said next. "Vuoi scoparlo adesso?--Do you want to fuck him now?"

"Si. Help me turn him over."

I was two exhausted and wasted to fight them as they came to either side of me, undid my restraints, turned me over, belly to recliner, and restrained me again.

Mario sat and watched, putting his hands on me, stroking me with them, as Luca, first, knelt behind me, pressed his face in my crack, and ate me out.

"He's got a nice hole. Opens right up," Luca said while he was fucking me with his fingers. And then he was on top of me, stretched out on my body as I lay, belly to recliner, mounted and penetrated me, and fucked the stuffing out of me with his black, beer-can cock.

This, at least, was sex as I was used to it being.

It was later in the afternoon, after we'd all cleaned up and had drinks at the fashion house office, smoothing over any rancor I might have harbored at the sounding, that they walked me down to the yacht basin at the Borgo Marinari, at the base of the Santa Lucia District peninsula, and I found that Mario had a honking big old-fashioned teak motor yacht.

And that was how I wound up not long before the sun started to sinking into the sea toward the west, first, lashed to the ship's wheel while Luca fucked me again in a knees-hooked-on-hips missionary and then I fucked Mario for the first time on the bench and Luca saddled up behind me and fucked me again while I was fucking Mario.

After that, they let me rest, laid out on the top of the awning covering the back of the motor yacht, naked, and sunbathing, while Mario and Luca went down to a cabin and fucked.

The clothes that Mario had picked out for me and said I could have--and that, I'm sure, were worth a small fortune--were white silky trousers, very tight across the pelvis and very low rise, with a mesh white tank top to go on top--very sexy and revealing and going extremely well with my tan and blond hair. It reveals that I had little gold rings in my nipples and my belly button. Luca had a menacingly big ring in his cock, which made me shudder and shimmer, and he was wearing black trousers that showed that he had the ring to anyone interested in looking. Mario was as elegantly dressed as ever, so we were quite a noticeable trio when we ate dinner in the early evening at Antonio & Antonio on the seafront near the marina on the Via Partenope.

As the meal was coming to a conclusion, I turned to Mario and said, "I hope I didn't disappoint." If they were willing to pay for another day like they paid for this, the taxing of the sounding notwithstanding, I was game.

"Oh, the day we paid for from you isn't anywhere close to be over," Mario said, with a smile. Luca tightened the grip he had on my thigh under the table.

And, indeed, the day they were paying for wasn't anywhere close to being over yet.

* * * *

Club Alexander, the gay club Mario and Luca took me to that evening, was just a block over, on Via Chiatamone, from the restaurant. The club's bar fronted on the street, but we were guided through that by a host--or hostess; I really couldn't tell what gender the host was--to a room behind that with a stage, a dancefloor and a live band. It was Saturday night, so the place was crowded--all by men, although you wouldn't have known that from a cursory glance. This obviously was a drag club. The host/hostess who escorted it to our seats was beautifully made out. It was mainly the low register of his voice that gave him away.

Three sides of the room were outfitted as alcoves screened off on three sides by silken drapes. The alcoves opened to the room, where there were some tables swirling around a dancefloor, all facing a raised platform on which a band, in drag, was playing backup to a tall, buxom, zaftig singer in drag, who was lip-singing to a Carol Channing breathy song. The tables were well occupied but so was the dancefloor.

Mario gestured for me to slide around to the middle of the bench seat at the back of the alcove we were taken to. It was a strategically placed alcove with a good view of the stage, dancefloor, and everything else, and the host/hostess swept two placards off the table as we sat. One said "Reserved" and the other one said "Christina's Table." Obviously, Mario and Luca were known here and had been accepted. I had no idea who Christina was.

"Who's Christina?" I asked Mario.

He laughed. "Christina owns this club, and here she is now."

The zaftig singer had concluded "her" song, was being replaced by another singer in drag, and came down off the stage and approached our alcove.

"È questo il giovanotto che hai portato per Christina stasera, Mario?"

"English, Christina, please. This is our friend for today, Ben. He's young and beautiful, as you can see. He also gives and takes the cock divinely--don't you, Ben? He's American, so we parlare inglese con lui--speak English with him, shall we?"

"Wonderful. Shall we sit and have a drink?--on the house, of course." Waiters appeared magically and took our drink orders as Christina slid into the bench seat beside me. Mario and Luca were sitting in chairs on the others side of the table, the chairs angled so they both could watch the stage and converse with Christina and me at the same time.

"Christina was asking if we brought you to her as a gift tonight. We are good friends. We share our good fortunes with Christina. I'm sure you don't mind. This is still your day with us."

The implication was clear. We were still on the clock for the thousand euros I had been given to cover the day. And they could share me like I was a party favor, if they liked. In any event, they didn't wait for me to accede to the arrangement, which now included a bulky figure in full drag, blond beehive wig, monumental breasts, stiletto red heels, and all. Christina, in keeping with a drag club diva, was larger than life, boisterous, and all hands on me as we chatted, drank our drinks, and watched the singers come and go on stage. Regardless of the request to speak English, the three of them talked mainly in Italian. They made little effort to include me other than Christina's wandering hands that fully knew me before our first drinks were gone and had been replaced by a second round. I think something had been put in my second drink because that's when I started to feel woozy and floating above it all.

The singer on stage was lip-synching a run of slow, melancholy tunes, and Christina took my hand and said, "Come, sexy Ben, dance with me," as she dragged me out from behind the table in the alcove and, even though I was getting a little hazy, we were out on the crowded dancefloor, with Christina towering and hovering over me, holding me close. She was dressed as a woman and I was the man, but she, of course, took the lead. She also held me close to her body, with her left arm embracing my torso and her strong right hand on the small of my back, pulling my pelvis close into hers. She was in massive erection and wanted me to know she was. We stood there, in one place, rocking against each other. If we hadn't been wearing clothes, we'd be fucking.

Twenty minutes later, Christina was fucking me. We returned to the table, me increasingly going hazy, and, when we slid around on the bench seat, she brought me into her lap. As Mario and Luca watched us, Christina fondled me, covered me in kisses, slipped my trousers and briefs off, pulled the hem of her dress up to reveal she wore nothing underneath, and put me on her cock. I was facing out toward and leaning down into the table, as Christina grasped my waist between her strong hands and raised and lowered me on her thick shaft.

As the fuck progressed, with everything else in the club continuing as it had been, with no indication everyone knew I was being fucked at Christina's table, although I'll bet similar acts were going on in other alcoves, Christina cupped my chin and pulled my head back into her bosoms. Her other hand palmed my belly, and she continued pulling me on and off her shaft. Only half conscious, but surrendering to the evening, I bent my legs, pressing my feet into the base of the bench, and rode the cock. It was thick and long, and I could tell that it had a big bead pierced in its bulb. She had a way of dragging that along my channel walls that had my passage muscles undulating over the shaft and shimmering. I almost wished I had been fully conscious to enjoy it.

Mario and Luca sat there, drinking, and watching. I now knew how they managed to get such good service at the Club Alexander. For the record, Christina had a very nice cock, and she knew how to use it.

As we were leaving, Christina waved away our bill, saying, "As long as you bring me presents, Honey, you'll always be welcome here."

"Perhaps you're free to join us for the rest of the evening," Mario said.

Christian giggled her availability.

* * * *

The Grand Hotel Vesuvio was located on the same street with the restaurant where we had dinner. The hotel room was a whole lot plusher than the one I'd been in at the nearby Hotel Rex and would be in again for the next couple of days thanks to what I earned this day. The room had two double beds. We were using both. I had no idea how we got here. The last I remembered before being here and on my back on one of the beds was that Christina was fucking me at her table at Club Alexander--and was doing a very good job of it.

Mario, naked and in erection, was hovering over me on the bed. I was on my back, legs spread and bent, feet flat on the mattress, as he sat beside me, holding my cock erect with one hand, and twirling the second sounding wand down into my cock with the other. I was holding his wrist with one hand and cupping his cheek with the other, my thumb in his mouth. He was sucking my thumb and humming while he worked. This time I wasn't bound or anything. I was letting him sound me and I was moaning my pleasure. I could get used to this form of sex. I was dancing on the clouds. That could have been thanks to the drugs they had given me at Club Alexander, but, for the moment, I was doing just fine.

Luca and Christina weren't watching Mario sound me. They were otherwise occupied at the foot of the other bed. I don't know where the young, dark-headed guy, probably no older than I was--and not any bigger came from, but he looked like he'd been slipped drugs too. Luca and Christina had the young man between them, in a standing crouch. Christina was facing the youth, whose knees were hooked on her hips. Her dress was gone, but not her blonde wig. She had on a black lace bra, hefting big breasts; black mesh stockings, held up by a black garter belt; and the red stiletto heels. Her dick was even bigger than I'd realized when she was fucking me at the club. Luca was behind the young guy, his arms embracing the youth's chest. The youth had his head lolled back into Luca's chest as they fucked him in a double. The expression on his face was slightly pained, but vacant. He was out of it. He also had two big dicks churning inside him. Christina and Luca were engaged in some lip locking over the young guy's shoulder.

Mario only used two wands on me before he got too excited to continue. He put the case of wands aside, mounted his ass on my pelvis, descended on my throbbing erection, and rode me to our mutual ejaculations in a cowboy.

The next I knew I was on the other bed, Christina under me and inside me, as I was looking up at the ceiling, and Luca was climbing on top of me, between my thighs, grasping my ankles and wishboning my legs. I wasn't so far out of it that I didn't know I was now getting two big dicks inside me and that they were pumping me. I focused on the ceiling tiles, opened my mouth in a continuous wail, and took it and took it and took it. Mario was sitting on the side of the other bed, playing with his cock and watching me get DPed. I have no idea where the other little guy had gone. I might even have imagined him, I suppose, thinking ahead to when it was me sandwiched between Christina and Luca.

Christina was the biggest inside me, but it was Lucas's cock that was pumping me. He released my ankles and I hooked my knees on his hips and rocked with the fuck, digging my fingernails in his biceps and flexing my fingers digs to the rhythm of his thrusts. Christina cupped my chin and turned my head, flicking her tong in and out of my ear, going with the rhythm of the taking.

When I woke the next morning, I was all alone in the room. My clothes--both the clothes I had started off the previous day wearing and the nifty and expensive white ensemble Mario had given me to club in--were folded neatly on a nearby chair. My money, plus a two-hundred-euro bonus, was tucked in a trouser pocket.

They hadn't stiffed me. They all been stiff for a full day, though, and worked me over mercilessly and relentlessly. I had a slight headache from the drugs and, of course, I ached "down there" from constant use.

It had been a good day--certainly profitable. I could manage for another week in Naples now.

I have no idea if the hotel room had been paid for. I showered and slinked out of the place, headed back to the Hotel Rex to check back in there and retrieve my other clothes.

* * * *

It was the next Friday already. I'd been frugal with the money I'd earned the previous Saturday, but I was on the cusp of needing some more if I wanted to get established comfortably at my next stop. I wanted to go to Florence from here, one of my primary targeted goals. I would be an art student when I entered college next fall, I hoped. Florence was a main stop on this "opening to life" trip.

I'd seen everything of Naples I needed to see. But for that little extra I'd need to get to Florence and get settled in there, I needed to take a walk today, Friday. It was a beautiful day out, so this would be a good day to do it. It had taken me a couple of days to recover from the previous Saturday. But 1,200 euros--plus a nifty clubbing ensemble--that was the best haul yet for one day during this trip. Not that I didn't earn every euro of it. And not that I didn't enjoy most the day, either.

With memories of the previous weekend, I walked out onto the seafront avenue, Via Nazario Sauro, and down toward the café where I'd hooked up with Mario and Luca. As I grew closer to that, I saw that the two of them were there, at the same table where I'd met them the previous Saturday. Could I take another Saturday with them? Would them want me for another Saturday?

It didn't much matter. I hadn't come too close to them when I saw Mario wave to a guy on the seafront wall across the avenue. It looked sort of like the other young dark-haired guy I'd caught a glimpse of being doubled by Luca and Christian in the Grand Hotel Vesuvio hotel room. But I couldn't be sure. In any case, he acknowledged Mario's wave and crossed the avenue to their table.

So much for that.

I retraced my steps and found a place on the same wall closer to the center of Naples. I sat there, not having to wait too long.

I watched him approach from a distance. He had the gait of a seamen and was dressed sort of how I would expect a commercial sailor on shore leave would be dressed--jeans and a tight T-shirt over a body-builder muscular chest. He was all beef--not tall, but solid. Big, but not fat. He was from somewhere in the Middle East, I thought. I could tell his body was hirsute, but his head was close to bald--a tight buzz cut to hide that he was going bald, I thought.

Our eyes met and remained engaged as he came over to me.

"Para için bir erkekle mi gitmek istiyorsun?" he said when he stopped in front of me. He reached out with a hand. The back of his hand was covered with curly black hair. I shuddered, but I didn't pull away when he touched me on the arm with his fingers.

"Sorry, I don't speak Italian. Do you speak English? I'm an American." I could pretty much count on everyone being able to speak English in Europe. I'd gotten along with just English so far--well, and a good body and sunny blond hair, with blue eyes.

He laughed. "Not Italian. Turkish. I speak Turkish. I'm a Turk."

"Sorry," I said, "Your English is good, though." It certainly was better than my nonexistent Turkish... and Italian, among other European languages.

"I'm sailor. Just stopping here. At sea on freighter for long time. Randy. How, you say, need to get my nuts off."

"Yes, I've heard that said before," I answered. I put my hand on top of his on my arm--just to let him know I didn't mind it being there.

"I asked if you did it for money. I'm told that guys sitting on this wall will do it for money. You will do it for me?"