Lake Como Weekend

I was standing at the French balcony door of the commodious bedroom they had assigned me overlooking the villa's terrace and Lake Como, Italy, when the men, led by the party's host, who I'd heard called Matteo, filed in. I had showered and prepared as I had been told to do and was posed, naked, at the glass door, leaning into the doorframe. I was here for this Lake Como weekend for the pleasure of men--as many men who wanted to use me, separately or together. The men--five of them at my count, although I noticed that the old man I'd been flirting with downstairs, knowing where that would lead, the one they called the Cavalieri, wasn't among them. Three of these five men were old too; neither of the other two were less than a decade older than my nineteen.

The host, Matteo, was maybe forty. He was the only one of the twenty-some men who'd come to the party I recognized. Earlier, when drinks and nibbles were served on the lakeside villa's terrace, all of the men had been dressed in tuxedos or formal morning suits. They were obviously wealthy and important men, all exuding self-confidence, most of them quite handsome and fit looking for their age, if heaviness of body was discounted for several. I'm sure that these men were self-confident enough not to be embarrassed that they were fat while they were fucking a young rent-boy.

The men had been in cocktail party mode during the arrival phase, milling around on the terrace below, engaging in chit-chat that didn't go beyond their shared membership in this highly exclusive fetish club. They were being served drinks and canapés by me and three other young men covered only with loincloths. We, of course, were all beautiful young men, with great bodies for our ages. We knew we were there to serve sexually, as demanded.

I recognized Matteo as an Italian movie star under another name who played male leads in Italian and Greek action thrillers. He thus was a handsome man, with wavy dark hair and both sultry and slightly thuggish in appearance. His body was hard, trim, and hirsute. No doubt he was still keeping in secret that he was at least bisexual. I quite clearly understood that he would be covering me during this weekend--in any way and as often as he liked. I had no reservations about serving under him even when I told he had some BDSM fetishes. I had grown to want something rough, exotic, and controlling to bring myself to full arousal with a client.

As the other four men settled in chairs pointed at the large bed and the French door at which I was standing, Matteo came to me at the window. His silk robe fluttered to the carpet as he walked to me and he was as naked now as I was. Even at forty, he had a magnificent physique, highly maintained for the movie roles he still took on. He was in full erection. Reaching me, he palmed my belly with one hand and cupped my chin with the other, turning my face to his for a deep kiss. He was a good four inches taller than I was. He was already sheathed for action. I could feel him rubbing up my back from the waistline.

As we kissed, he moved his hands over my body, cupping my balls and stroking my cock briefly before going down on his knees behind me, gripping my hips between his hands, and jutting my pelvis back toward him. The four men sitting in the chairs facing us, watched with close attention. I knew I was playing a role for their sexual titillation, and I played it as well as I could. I raised my arms and pressed my palms to the warm glass of the French door, resting my cheek there too, and moaned, whispering, "Yes, yes, fuck me" in a breathy tone that I knew would reach the four men in the chairs, as he ran his tongue between my buttocks cheeks and opened up my entrance with it. I reached my hands back to cover and spread my glutes. Matteo pulled back occasionally to show the voyeurs my slowly spreading, pulsing hole.

I could see the other men in my peripheral vision. They had spread their robes open and shucked them off their shoulders altogether. They were all naked. Their fitness varied but they all were in erection and were handing their cocks. They stayed in erection for so long subsequently that I assumed that some or all of them had taken enhancement pills.

None of us said anything other than the few murmurings that came from the watching men and my own low moans and pants and occasional murmurings of being prepared and taken well. Part of my profession was to be able to gauge whether what the men wanted was a conquering victory over reluctance and eventual surrender to their "mastery" or whether, like now, I was to appear, at least, to be overwhelmed with want for them, no matter how well-endowed or masterful they were. This was a "Do it. Take me. I want you all" moment, and that was what I was playing to. I panted and moaned, gasping now and again. Matteo grunted as he worked me, but the afternoon progressed with just a low sound of a young man being used for the pleasure of five older men.

Matteo stood, moving his body up mine from behind. I moved to take my arms down, but he gripped my wrists and put me back in position. One hand palmed my lower belly again, pulling my hips back toward him. I opened the stance of my legs to maintain balance.

"Yes, yes. Fuck me!" I exclaimed to heighten the atmosphere of my need and want, and murmurs of excitement rolled through the semicircle of voyeurs. Matteo, the actor, knowing full well what I was playing to but no doubt confident he could break me down to genuine submissiveness as he wished, gave a little laugh.

Matteo's other hand was putting his cockhead in position, and I gasped as the thick, sheathed shaft entered me enough to challenge my sphincter muscle, which, as I relaxed, knowing what this was about and what was expected of me, yielded to him.

"It's so big," I whined, "Please go slow. Be good to me. Oh, fuck, it's so big," bringing forth another fluttering of sighs from the voyeur gallery.

Other than declaring intent, he did not force himself deeper at once, but moved the free hand to cupping my chin again. He buried his face in the hollow of my neck. I trembled in his embrace.

The thrust was sudden and deep. I gasped and exclaimed, my "Oh, fuck!" cutting through the silence of the room and causing a stir in the chairs behind me. But they settled down, as did I as Matteo held my trembling body in thrall and fucked me from behind. Slow thrusting to my moans. Deeper, faster thrusting to my groans. Cruel, hard, finishing-off thrusting to my cries and writhing within his grasp. I was a novice at this. I'd never been taken so cruelly before.

He started out slow, languidly, but he picked up in intensity and vigor. The hand that had been palming my belly moved down to take possession of and to stroke my cock. He continued pumping me to his tensing, jerking, and ejaculation, which came after I had splashed my load against the glass of the door, and after he withdrew, snatched off his condom, and came on the small of my back, at the top of the crevice between my buttocks cheeks.

He moved away from me then, but only to be replaced by the other younger man, a Germanic blond, quite muscular and handsome, who put his hands on me, swung me away from the window, and just pressed me down on all fours on the carpet. It wasn't more than a moment from the time when Matteo had been inside me, his body signaling his impending release, until the German had me under him on all fours. He was mounted on me from above and behind. He thrust inside me, his shaft thicker than Matteo's had been, his stroking more vigorous, swift and killing from the start. He pressed a foot in the back of my neck to hold me down as he fucked me in a power doggy position. My face was turned toward the men sitting in the chairs, watching, and stroking themselves. Matteo had joined them.

After the blond German had filled the bulb of his condom, he hauled me up and lowered me onto my back on the bed. It was the Graybeards' time to enjoy me and enjoy me they did, on the bed, between my spread legs, on my back, in my throat. Not one of them held back. They worked together, their hands all over me, sharing me. They didn't wear protection. They barebacked me. Their ejaculations were not strong or prodigious, but they were often enough in occurrence, that cum was dribbling out of me and my skin was slick with their jism.

When the group was done, I was left alone, on my back on the bed, with Matteo. He turned me on my belly, pulled me back to the end of the bed, put my ankles on his shoulders, and grasped my hips between his hands. I heard the snap of the condom being rolled on, jerked and huffed at the thrust of his cock up into me, and lay there, panting and moaning, as, pulling me back and forth on this cock. He tensed, pulled out of me, jerked the condom off, and shot his load up my back. After he was gone and I had recovered from the gangbanging that had gone on for well over an hour, I went to the en suite bathroom to shower and refresh myself.

This, I thought, had been my most demanding assignment. But I had managed it--and had even gotten pleasure out of Matteo and the German.

But the session wasn't over, I learned.

When I came out of the bathroom, the three graybeards were back in the chairs, their heads swiveling to catch my every movement. Matteo and the German were on the bed. Then I was on the bed too. The German was on his back, his hands grasping my waist as I rode his erection in the cowboy position. This had only begun when Matteo was kneeling on the bed, his knees outside of mine and the German's thighs, and his hands covering the German's on my waist.

I gasped and panted and whimpered as he entered my channel, sliding in on top of the German's buried cock. They fucked me together as the three graybeards' sat and watched and stroked their still-hard cocks. Never doubled before, I writhed and cried out for mercy until I had spread open to take them both, and then we settled down to a steady, mutually achieved rhythm. With exclamations and sighs all six of us came again almost simultaneously.

I was left on my back on the bed, the German kneeling between my spread thighs, fucking me again, as the natural light outside the bedroom's glass French door faded and the lights of the lanterns danced in reflection off the water of Lake Como and framed the magnificent architecture of the buildings on the far shore.

The three older men each took a turn then, me on my back and just lying there, legs spread, as each moved in between my thighs and fucked me without protection.

I slept and when I woke in the middle of the night to drag myself to the bathroom for another shower and a repair and recovery of my bruised, used, and abused body, I was alone.

This was just day one of a two-day weekend at Matteo's villa on Lake Como that I had signed up for. I was told I'd be returned to my tourist hotel in Milan at the end of the weekend and that the remainder of my fee would be deposited in my bank account then--I had already been paid enough up front for me to think that was enough even if I was stiffed for the rest. The whole arrangement was a bit cloudy, although enough had been deposited up front to cover the rest of my European travel. I took this as some sort of sexual adventure, which I had come to Europe to experience.

I'd had some inkling of what the weekend entailed and I was well trained for it in theory, but I was a novice at actual demands this high and as prolonged. I suffered through the double penetration by Matteo and the German, although I knew that increased stretching by increased doubling would make it as routine as taking a single cock. If it contributed to being able to do this with multiple men in the future, I was prepared to endure it. But I did suffer. That didn't mean I didn't prodigiously come myself from the experience, showing how wanton I was. I understood that they wanted rent-boys as fresh as possible. But I'd had no idea...

* * * *

I wasn't a professional male whore nor had I bottomed for a gang bang before the weekend at Lake Como in Italy. I'd taken two guys at once at the most before, and that was strictly casual sex. I was promiscuous and into casual sex--at least on the European tour I was on between my first and second years of art studies in Chicago. Ever since it was legal for me to do so, I'd dropped trou and opened my legs to any good-looking guy who said pretty please and had gotten as much pleasure out of it as he had. So, it's not like I wasn't open to this, especially considering how much it paid. And I'd been this wanton for less than a year, so I was still pretty fresh to it.

Paulo may have thought I was more experienced than I was when he observed me dancing the pole by audience participation offer a week earlier in a Milan gay bar, especially since I let him take me to a sleazy hotel room afterward where I enthusiastically and with no reluctance rode his pole in a Cowboy fuck at quite a reasonable fee. But I was drunk at the time and I also was between men. I was coming close to running out of money before my planned Italian art appreciation trip was over, and I had relied on a succession of men in the previous two weeks to carry me through. Mostly I went with older men still fit enough to be arousing, the bigger and harder the cock the better, and I had no shortage of older men propositioning me, a young, good-looking, fit, blond American. When I needed a financial infusion, I purposely located myself in places where hookups were being made. Turning a trick or two a day was keeping me financially steady, if not flush, on my Italian tour.

It helped that I found Italian men sexy.

Paulo was supposed to be just another one of those men. Instead, though, Paulo was a pimp putting together a group of young guys to service a high-roller men's fetish club weekend up at Lake Como. The money he cited was quite good. I was still a little drunk when I'd agreed to do the gig.

I had known the gig involved being bedded by men.

"Even by several men in the same session," Paulo had said, giving me a hard look.

"OK," I said, after a bit of a pause.

"Very likely including a double or two.

"A double?" I asked. I didn't really know what he meant. He maybe thought I was negotiating.

"You know, two guys in there together at the same time." And then when I didn't respond immediately, he said, "I could sweeten the pot another 500 euros. I can't say that they won't demand that, though. And once you're there, you'll do what they want. You won't have a choice.

I agreed. So, I certainly couldn't say I wasn't told. I just hadn't experienced it before so I had no idea how intense it could be.

"You and other guys we take will serve the drinks and the canapés for a men's fetish club gathering--very rich and powerful men. You'll be dressed to be noticed. At some point there will be an auction.

"An auction?

"Yeah, of servicing by you guys. It won't be a regular auction, though. There won't be one winner. This is a club of men who like to watch before they take what they want. They'll have the enjoyment of watching you being waiters for their cocktail hours. Those who win in the auction will have the enjoyment of watching you being covered by others. Then they will enjoy covering you themselves. The sex will go on for hours. Do you believe you can do this for the money being given?

"Yes," I answered, taking into consideration the large fee involved and also intrigued and aroused at the whole idea of it. I was as narcissistic as the next young good-looking man. I had a great body and put in a lot of work to keep it sculpted. I didn't mind being ogled--even during sex with someone else. The image of five older men laying me on a divan and exploring my body completely with their hands and mouths before, while the others touched me, mounting and screwing me, one after the other, turned me on.

"Good. There will be a minimum bid set on each of you. Whatever bidders go above that minimum will be given time with you.

"All together?

"Yes, altogether. That's part of this club's fetish. They are group voyeurs." I must have given him a sour look, because he added, "I guess I could go an additional 500 euros for that.

I'd said OK, and it unfolded as Paulo indicated it would--to a point. From the beginning, he'd said, "At the end of the weekend, I'll bring you all back here from the lake." But that's not how it went down.

* * * *

Sunday wasn't anything like Saturday at Matteo's Lake Como villa. The auction and the supply of the same rent-boys was just like Saturday, but the fetish club members who showed up were an entirely different sort of man. On Saturday, they'd been elegantly dressed and exuding money and influence on the lakeside terrace as everyone was arriving. On Sunday, it was like a bikers' meet. Sunday was leather day at Matteo's. Even the movie star was decked out in leather pants and boots, bare-chested, and with black-leather chest harnesses.

The men must be as well-heeled as the Saturday crowd to be able to afford this fetish, but they were younger, on the average than those who were there on Saturday and, on the whole, more muscular. They were also more demanding and cruel.

There were six of them, to Saturday's three, who bid on me enough to become voyeurs in my bedroom to watch Matteo fuck me in front of the French window. This was different--more brutal--than how it played on Saturday, though. An X-frame had been brought in and erected in front of the window. And a black leather sling was hung from ceiling hooks in the corner of the room that I hadn't noticed before. There also were light poles providing color-changing strobe lighting and two men roaming around with cameras.

I was hung, facing the window, from the X-frame, and the six leathermen who had successfully bid on spending time with me remained in voyeur form only as long as it took for Matteo to work me over, first with a hand whip, and then with his hands and mouth and fist, in the end, palming my belly and pulling my hips back, mounting me, and fucking me hard and deep to his sheathed ejaculation.

Then he turned me over to the six men. Another of the rent-boys was brought in, and the afternoon became a filmed orgy to seven leathermen working over two rent-boys under colored strobing lights and the whirring of video cameras. The bed and surrounding floor were covered in vinyl sheets that kept the body fluids and smattering of blood from the whipping--and the beating, as well--from spoiling the décor.

I think all of the leathermen got their share of doubling both me and the other rent-boy before I managed to escape. And I did manage to escape. I think if I hadn't, they might have finished me off. That probably was the plan. They certainly seemed to be headed in that direction. I had managed to slip into the bathroom while they were all circling the other rent-boy and putting him on the bed for an all-points assault. I dashed under the shower to wash the worst of the blood and cum off of me. Luckily I had put my clothes in the cabinet under the sink there. When I slid out of the room, the cameramen were facing away from me and intent on filming four leathermen standing over the rent-boy's body on the bed while one was fucking him in the missionary position and another one was feeding his cock down the rent-boy's throat. The four standing leathermen were pissing on the rent-boy's torso. The cameramen were absorbed in recording it all.

I managed to slip out of the room and down to the carpark, where I had been told Paulo would be waiting from Sunday afternoon into the evening to gather the rent-boys he had contracted for the weekend and drive them back to Milan. He, of course, was not there, and I would never see nor hear from him again. I also wouldn't see any more fee money deposited to my back account. That didn't surprise me.