A gay story: Balls of Blue in ’62 1962. The air is hot and heavy– a typical day in mid-summer New York City. A man walks down the street, two heavy-set men trailing behind him at a distance just a bit further than friends would walk. Thin but muscular, the man hides clever eyes underneath his dark hair. He looks around, glancing over his shoulder, scanning the streets. Despite his obvious paranoia, he keeps a smile on his face. He skips up the steps of Beachwood Estates, a local penthouse apartment complex. He raps on the heavy oak door twice – he knows it’s oak. Afterall, he’s had his hands on more wood than he can count.
An old woman answers the door. He can tell by her distinctly angular brows that she is part of the family. “Buona notte, Nonna Francesca,” he says. “May I speak with Lazzaro?”
Francesca narrows her eyes at him, sizing him and his companions up. “What do you want from him?” she asks in a thick Sicilian accent.
“Just an answer to a question.”
“Why does there need to be three of you to ask a question?”
“Every question has three parts,” the man says with a grin. “The subject, the verb, and the compliment. Well, the Don is the subject, these are the compliments.”
“And what is the verb?” she asks skeptically.
The man shrugs. “That all depends on what Lazzaro wants from me.”
“I’m too old for this.” says the woman, opening the door wide. “Go on ahead, but your friends will have to stay in the main room.”
“They’re not my friends,” says the man quickly. “If you could, can you tell Lazzaro that Loczek is here to see him?”
Francesca rolls her eyes, but obliges. The three men file into the spacious room. Despite the unassuming exterior, the inside of Beechwood Estates is lavish, decorated with red sofas and gold trim. The two men with Loczek sit down awkwardly, like they have something bulky in their jackets and were not planning on relaxing that evening.
Francesca beckoned for Loczek to follow her up the spiral staircase. As he turned and was about to follow, one of the men tugged on his arm. “Will you be okay in there?” he asked gruffly. Not out of concern for Loczek, but out of concern for Loczek’s wallet.
“Believe me,” Loczek replied. “Gimme an hour with this guy and all of us will get…more than satisfactory results.”
“See you in an hour from now, on the dot.”
With that, Loczek headed up the stairs, trailing behind the impatient Fancesca. The goons downstairs kept their eyes on the clock.
At the top of the staircase was an imposing door, this one made out of mahogany. Francesca left without a word, leaving Loczek standing alone. He turned the golden knob and the door swung open silently. The Don was waiting for him.
Tall, with wide set shoulders and a dark Italian tan, the Don sat quietly behind a birch desk. He pushed back his slick black hair and looked up, his deep brown eyes burning with a ruthless fire.
“You should have knocked. Most people knock.” He said with a growl.
“Well. I’m not most people.” Loczek said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk.
“By all accounts, you are. My files list you as one Mr. Antionio Loczek, a lowlife drug dealer from the Bronx. Now, I know we have had business in the past,” his eyes flicker, betraying a hint of…yearning? Or perhaps that was Loczek’s wishful thinking. “-but that means nothing now. Come, sit down.” He gestured to a pine chair, noticeably less grand than the one he was currently sitting in. He moved only his hand, muscles rippling under his tight, expertly tailored black suit. Loczek sat. There was really nothing else he could do. He was powerless to resist the commands of the Don.
“Good morning, sir. How are you doing?” Loczek said, his smile unchanged.
“Cut the small talk. We both know why you’re here.”
Loczek looked up, a light twinkling in his eye. “Are you sure about that…sir?”
“Yes.” The Don said, gruffly. “You want to keep selling my Family drugs.” He leaned forward, piercing dark eyes staring directly into Loczek’s bright blue ones. His tightly fitted shirt drooped down a bit, exposing the tip of his collarbone and the scar that remained of what must have been a grievous wound. Antonio caught a wiff of sweat and musk, mostly hidden under the scent of Lazzaro’s cologne. Ah yes, Irish Spring.
“Drugs? No no no, not so crass,” Antonio said, looking taken aback. “I want to sell you investments. Their forms don’t matter. All that matters is, you can sell what I bring you and turn a profit.”
“Son,” began Lazzaro, “Let me give it to you straight.” He laid a heavy hand on Loczek’s shoulder, in a move that was probably meant to be paternal, but ended up just feeling controlling. “We run a… business. Now, in the business world, we are going through what many call downsizing. We’re cutting our assets, reducing our partners, the whole shebang. Anything we can do, we will. The drugs you have sold our Family no longer can cut it. I’m afraid we’ll need to end our… partnership.”
“On the contrary,” whispered Loczek. “I believe our partnership has only just begun.” He looked deep into Lazzaro’s dark eyes. Lazzaro held his gaze for a second, then broke away, averting his eyes. The Don let out a breath. Frustration, perhaps? But of what kind?
“You’ve interrupted my evening, Loczek.” said Lazzaro, mild annoyance cutting into his voice. “I had plans. Nonna Francesca made a lovely dinner for me. Now, if you don’t have any real reason for me to continue doing business with you, I suggest you take your leave.”
Loczek sighed, his face falling, then leaned forward in his chair. His face was only inches from the Don’s, but Lazzaro did not falter. The only sign of hesitation was in his eyes, which flickered down the Don’s shirt. Loczek looked up, then smirked again.
“Tell me where you got that scar, Lazzaro,” he murmured.
Lazzaro cocked one eyebrow. He knew a common business practice was to make the opponent uncomfortable; he would not fall for it. On the contrary, he was more comfortable in these situations than anywhere else.
“A former lover,” he finally replied.
Loczek blew out in a thin whistle, the air brushing against Lazzaro’s face. His breath was sweet, with a trace of mint. “What did you do to make her go so crazy?”
Lazzaro tilted his head, then bit his lip. If Loczek was trying to make him uncomfortable, then he’d just have to return the favor. He wanted to show Loczek what he was made of.
“Her?” He whispered, tan lips puckering around the word. A chill ran down Loczek’s spine.
“Oh.” Loczek breathed. “My mistake. I didn’t take you for… that kind of man.”
“You have no idea what kind of man I am.” growled Lazzaro.
Loczek rested a hand on the desk. “And you have no idea what kind of man I can be.”
“I’ll drink to that.” The Don opened his desk drawer, pulling out a clear glass bottle of amber-tinted bourbon. He set it on the desk with a thud. “I hope you’re the type of man that can handle his… hard spirits.”
Loczek winked. “I can handle anything you’ve got.”
The Don lunged across the desk, grabbing Loczek by his silken tie. “Only fags wear silk,” he hissed into Loczek’s ear.
“It takes one to know one, sir,” Loczek gasped, not breaking eye contact.
Lazzaro growled, then kissed Loczek roughly on the lips. His tongue penetrated through, probing the inside of Loczek’s mouth. Loczek moaned, then grabbed the Don’s luxurious hair tightly. Lazzaro returned the favor, bringing his other hand deep into Loczek’s curly locks. He pulled Loczek’s head close, half-dragging him across the desk.
“Show me how badly you want this deal.” Lazzaro whispered gruffly.
“I’d do anything for it, sir.” Loczek slid across the desk, planting himself securely in Lazzaro’s lap. He could feel Lazzaro’s throbbing erection even through both of their pants.
“I can tell you want this deal too.” Loczek whispered, guiding his hand down Lazzaro’s shirt.
Lazzaro let out a faint gasp as Loczek’s hand grazed the tip of his cock. “I want more than just a deal.”
Loczek pulled his hand away, and grinned cheekily. “You of all people should know patience.”
Lazzaro groaned, then bucked his hips forward, grinding against Loczek’s thigh. Loczek hid his desperation well, and reached for the bottle of bourbon. He took a long swig, his throat pulsing as he drank. Tilting the bottle so that it was against Lazzaro’s lips, he observed with pleasure as the Don drank greedily. “Thirsty, sir?” he asked quizzically.
Lazzaro smirked, the first smile Loczek had seen on his face. “You have no idea how thirsty I’ve been.”
Loczek leaned in, blowing into Lazzaro’s ear. The smell of butterscotch and alcohol wafted into the Don’s nose. The heady smell made it hard to think straight. God, he wanted to drink straight from Loczek’s lips. The man alone was intoxicating enough.
“I guess I’ll just have to… satisfy your cravings.” Loczek whispered. The air from his breath carried itself deep within Lazzaro’s ear, bringing chills throughout his entire body, making him weak. As Loczek murmured, his tongue flickered out, just barely brushing against Lazzaro’s earlobe. Lazzaro let out an involuntary moan. He wasn’t used to being controlled like this. What was he thinking about earlier? The art of the deal, make your opponent uncomfortable? Sure, he wasn’t comfortable with getting dominated like this typically, but Jesus Christ, it just felt so good.
“Fuck me. Fuck me hard.” Lazzaro begged. Loczek looked at Lazzaro, desiring clouding his icy eyes. He was so ready to oblige.
But Lazzaro shoved him away, off of his lap. Loczek flipped over the desk and ended up in a crumpled heap against the floor. Lazzaro swiftly stood up, one hand tucking his erection away.
“We can’t do this, Loczek. If the mafia finds out, we’ll both be killed. We’ll be swimming with the fishes before we can even get out of the city.” Lazzaro looked pained to say it, but Loczek knew he was telling the truth. In the sixties, people would rather send a man into outer space than let him fall in love with another man.
“But sir!” Loczek whimpered, his eyes pleading with the older man. “I need you!” His chest heaved, both with emotion and lust.
“You’re right, I just can’t fucking resist.” With a few strides, Lazzaro crossed the room and picked Loczek up by his collar. He slammed him into the wall. Loczek briefly realized that the wall was made of chestnut before his thoughts became a blur as Lazzaro’s rough hand explored the outside of his jeans. He let out a gasp and thrust his hips harder into Lazzaro’s hand, grinding greedily. He loved the pressure, the gentle fingers scraping against the tip of his visible erection.
“Now who can’t resist?” teased Lazzaro, his free hand deftly unbuckling Loczek’s belt.
Suddenly, they heard a noise. Hard soles, thudding up the stairs. “Boss?” someone called. It was one of Loczek’s companions.
Loczek swore and did his best to buckle his belt with shaking hands. Lazzaro combed through his mussed hair until it looked acceptably smooth. He opened the door and politely greeted the large man standing outside.
“Is everything alright in here?” the man asked, leaning around Lazzaro to gaze into the office. “Loczek?”
“We’re just fine,” Loczek stated, still panting slightly. “Business can be a little…rough at times. Dealing with the Mafia is different than dealing with some junkie who hasn’t paid his debt. Give us another hour.”
“Negotiations are being made,” said Lazzaro. “One more hour. Do not interrupt us again.”
The man narrowed his eyes slightly at Lazzaro, then nodded once and turned to go. He could hear the lock clicking in the door behind him.
Lazzaro turned from the door to face a nervous-looking Loczek. “That was too fucking close,” he barked. “But…we do have another hour.”
Lozcek caught his breath, then turned and winked. “I believe you were in the process of… unbuttoning my trousers?” He grinned.
Lazzaro crossed the room. His face was now inches from Lozcek’s. “Son, let me give it to you straight. What we are about to do is dangerous activity. We have already been caught once, and if it happens again, I can guarantee that no amount of smooth talking will get us out of it. But, you’re just so damn cute.” He tenderly kissed Loczek on the lips. Loczek stared deep into the Mafia boss’s eyes and bit his lip. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind them. Flushed face, half-closed blue eyes, muscles straining against themselves. God, he was out of control. And that was just how Lazzaro liked it.
Lazzaro roughly grabbed Loczek’s hair with one hand, the other hand ripping off Loczek’s belt. At the same time, Loczek’s hands swifty unbuttoned the older man’s tailored suit, caressing the ripped chest of Lazzaro.
“God, sir, I want you so badly.” Loczek moaned. Lazzaro had finished tearing off the drug dealer’s belt, and his hands now pulled down the younger man’s trousers. Loczek’s erection sprung into the air. It wasn’t the biggest Lazzaro had ever seen, but it was pretty damn close. His rough hands moved up Loczek’s thigh as the drug dealer let out a whimper. A singular finger circled the shaft, the rest of the hand tenderly wrapping around the ballsack of Loczek. Loczek moaned.
“Please stroke me, sir. I need you.” His eyes beckoned, running across the creviced chest of the Mafia boss. He bit his lip to stop it from mouthing fuck, fuck, fuck over and over again. The Don’s hand moved up, roughly stroking Loczek’s cock. Locking eyes with the younger man, Lazzaro moved his hand away from the shaft as Loczek let out another moan.
“Please keep going, sir!” Loczek begged.
“Trust me, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’m going to make it feel even better.” The Don kept looking into Loczek’s eyes as he moved his hand up to his mouth, his tongue flickering across the surface of his own palm. Loczek could feel his hot breath across the inches dividing them, and the tugging against his hair drove him wild. The Don moved his hand back down, a singular strand of amber spit connecting his hand to his mouth. Loczek’s head jerked backwards and all of his muscles flexed as Lazzaro began stroking him again. The saliva improved the sensation tenfold, allowing Lazzaro to easily glide his hand over the bumps and ridges of Loczek’s cock. He gradually increased the frequency of his stroking, causing Loczek to have to fight against the urge to let out a cry of pleasure. Loczek’s hands fumbled with Lazzaro’s shirt, and he quickly flung it off of him onto the ground. Lazzaro leaned in and ran his tongue across the inside of Loczek’s ear.
“I’m going to make you mine.” He growled deeply.
Loczek couldn’t resist anymore, and let out a tender moan. His fingers clawed at Lazzaro’s back, only adding to the scratches and scars.
“Yes, sir, do whatever you want with me!” He couldn’t control himself. He felt a deep pleasure running through his balls, and his penis twitched and twinged, every movement like a shock to his entire system. He bucked his cock deeper into the hand of the dominant man, feeling it slide to the very base of his cock. The Don tightened his grip, milking his cock quickly and efficiently. Loczek knew he wouldn’t last much longer.
With a quick movement, Loczek lunged downward, his rod sliding out of Lazzaro’s hand with a jolt of pleasure. His hands flew down from Lazzaro’s back to Lazzaro’s pants, sliding them off in one smooth motion. The Don’s cock whipped out into the humid air. It was huge, much larger than Loczek’s.
“Mamma Mia.” Loczek laughed, a smirk reappearing on his previously lustful face.
“Don’t patronize me,” Lazzaro growled, one large hand pushing Loczek to his knees.
Loczek hadn’t been able to practice much when it came to sucking cock, but he knew what he liked when someone else did it to him. Guided by Lazzaro’s hand on the back of his head, he did his best to fit the Don’s entire throbbing erection in his mouth. His pale hands traced their way up Lazzaro’s dark thighs, the fingernails leaving thin scratches. He closed his mouth fully around the head of the enormous penis, running his tongue across the underside. He pulled it out of his mouth slowly, relishing the way the older man shuddered. His hands had now reached Lazzaro’s ass, and they gripped hard, feeling the tight muscles underneath. Loczek rocked the Don’s hips back and forth, inviting him to thrust as deep as he wanted. Lazzaro eagerly complied, straining to go as far as he could. Loczek gagged as the member slid its way down his neck. He coughed twice, rivulets of drool running down his chin. Lazzaro could see his adam’s apple pulse with every bob.
“God, you feel so good,” moaned the Don, relishing the tingling feeling of Loczek’s lips locked around his shaft. He sucked in his lip, his typically stoic face melting into a look of pleasure. His fingers dug into Loczek’s curly brown hair harder, pulling the younger man’s face up to look at him. Loczek smirked, his mouth half open. He ran his tongue out of his mouth and up the shaft, ending in a kiss on the tip. Lazzaro let out a growl and shoved Loczek down onto the rod once more, letting out a deep murmur of delight as he did so.
“Is this how you like it, sir?” Loczek said around the Don’s cock. His voice was muffled and wet, but it got the point across.
“Oh, yes, that is more than satisfactory.” The Don groaned. “Oh Loczek, you do sure know how to treat a man right.”
“Call me Antonio, sir. My family name should have nothing to do with this… dirty business.”
The Don looked down at him, breathing hard. “Antonio, this isn’t business at all.” He let out a gasp, then recomposed himself. “It’s pleasure.”
Antonio paused, smiled, then doubled down even faster than before. The Don stumbled around and placed his back against the wall. The deep feeling within his balls throbbed with every bob of Antonio Loczek’s head; it was more than he could control. He pushed back Loczek’s curly hair, gazing deep into the submissive man’s eyes. The bright blue light had turned into blazing pinpricks of fire, the lids half-closed with lust. Lazzaro felt himself being drawn into those magnetic eyes, looking deeper into Antonio’s soul. The pulsing sensations in his testicles rose up, flooding the base of his cock. The feeling was wild, reckless, untamed. He couldn’t hold it back.
“Antonio, I’m…” he slurred, falling over his words, “I’m going to…”
“Not yet.” Antonio pulled the cock out of his mouth, leaving it hanging in the open air. Lazzaro let out a gasp and slumped to the floor, the tingling feeling quickly receding. “We haven’t gotten to the main event.”
Lazzaro pushed himself up, running a hand nervously through his hair. He was embarrassed by the lack of control that he had displayed; he had never acted like that before. It was time for him to regain the power here.
Antonio was still on his knees. He glanced at his watch. “We have another forty minutes,” he said, looking up at Lazzaro. “We can still do…more.”
Lazzaro needed no further prompting. Grabbing Antonio by the collar, he slammed him onto the birch desk, flipping him around so that he was facing the door. Keeping him pinned down by the back of the neck, he whispered in his ear, “My turn, Antonio. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of this room straight.”
Antonio shuddered, then replied cockily, “Lazzaro, I thought we’d quite established that I don’t do anything straight.”
Lazzaro responded by slapping Antonio’s ass, leaving a clear, bright-red handprint. “Shut up, slut.”
Antonio could tell that Lazzaro had appreciated the joke, but recognized that he should not have been joking around during a Mafia business meeting.
Lazzaro spread Antonio’s cheeks with one hand and balanced his cock between them. He began to push it in, but Antonio interrupted him.
“Sir, what about lube?”
Lazzaro paused, his mind blanking. He didn’t even keep condoms in his meeting room, let alone sexual lubricant. His mind raced, searching for a solution. What was on his desk? He remembered that Nonna Francesca had left a bottle of olive oil, along with some balsamic vinaigrette for him to dip bread in. Picking up the olive oil, Lazzaro turned around, a devilish smirk on his rough face.
“Want me to toss your salad?” Lazzaro joked, holding up the bottle.
“No sir, I just wanna get railed already.”
“Fair enough.” He uncorked the bottle, opening it with a pop, then poured an ample amount of olive oil on to his rough palm. He paused, the oil flowing down the sides of his hand and dripping onto the carpet[a]. He reached around Antonio, grabbing him by the throat.
“Come here.” Lazzaro growled. He spun the young man around. Loczek’s head was directly hovering over the older man’s beckoning hand.
“Here’s what you’re going to do. You going to lick the oil off my hand, then smear it over my cock with your lips. Capiche?”
“My darling,” whispered Antonio, “You are the perfect stereotype of an Italian man. I love it.” With that, he lapped up a healthy amount of oil from Lazzaro’s palm. “This is quality shit,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow as olive oil dripped down his chin.
“The finest a mob boss can afford. Don’t drop it all on the floor, now.” Lazzaro grabbed the back of Antonio’s hair and gently guided him to where his mouth was supposed to be. The grip on his hair became considerably less gentle when Antonio’s lips wrapped around his member. Antonio bobbed his head, the olive oil making his lips glide smoothly over the girthy penis. Lazzaro let out a moan. It felt so good. This was why he paid extra when it came to food products. But it was over too soon.
Antonio sat up on his haunches, an eager look on his face. Lazzaro wanted Loczek to continue, needed him to continue, but Loczek had his priorities straight.
“Now please, fill my asshole, sir.” Antonio begged, a hint of desperation peaking through his typically cocky face.
“As you wish… slut.” Lazzaro, still holding Antonio by the hair, flipped him around and onto his hands and knees. Antonio’s arched back emphasized his muscular and toned ass, which gave a little wiggle in anticipation. Despite his hard life on the streets, his butt remained delectable. While Antonio was a working man, this wasn’t a working man’s ass. This was a slut’s ass. A slut’s ass that was about to be filled.
Antonio let out a low groan, halfway between a moan and a growl, as Lazzaro entered his puckered rear.
“Please go slow, sir. I’m still…” Antonio’s facade cracked a little as the enormous penis reached deeper within him, “I’m still new at this.”
“A man of the streets like you? I’d have thought that you’ve taken every man under the sun.” Loczek let out a chuckle. “Still, I know what it’s like to hide your identity.” Lazzaro continued. “I’ll go slow… for you.”
“Thank you sir…” Antonio’s sentence trailed off as the cock slid in again, pressing against his prostate. The low, throbbing pleasure made him weak. He felt his cock grow even harder, painfully so. It felt like it was going to burst. Lazzaro reached around, giving the head of Antonio’s penis a rub, sending shockwaves coursing through the younger man’s body.
“Fuck, it’s so sensitive!”
Lazzaro could already feel the prostate fluid leaking out of the drug dealer’s penis. He pulled his hand back, a string of sticky precum connecting him and Loczek. A string connecting the two the same way he felt their hearts connected, somehow. Then the string broke, and Lazzaro was consumed with nothing but lust. Antonio quivered as Lazzaro gradually pulled out halfway, applying extra olive oil to his member before thrusting back in, slightly harder than before. However, he didn’t thrust deep enough to reach Loczek’s prostate–just deep enough for Loczek to plead for more. Dissatisfied, Antonio tried pushing his hips backward, forcing himself further onto the cock. With this Lazzaro was not pleased, and smacked Antonio’s ass hard, disregarding the noise it made. His bitch was out of line.
Antonio jumped forward at the sharp stinging. When he fell backwards, the Don’s cock slid all the way in, slamming onto his prostate and sending a wave of mind-melting pleasure through him. Loczek babbled incoherently and struggled to breathe, except in gasps every time the rod drove deeper. His arms and legs shook violently. Never before had he felt such bliss, and the very small part of him that was still coherent worried that he might lose consciousness.
He could feel every vein on the older man’s throbbing cock. Lazzaro slid in and out slowly, teasing every moan out of Loczek with ease. Antonio was like putty in the Don’s hands. His little toy.
Abruptly, Lazzaro stopped. Loczek couldn’t help but let a little whimper escape his lips as his eyes rolled back in need.
“Please! Please keep fucking me, sir!” Loczek begged, trying to thrust his hips back onto the older man’s cock. But Lazzaro held him at bay with one thick arm.
“Not yet, my little slut. You need to learn patience. It will… serve you well during future negotiations.” Lazzaro leaned forward so that his lips brushed lightly against Antonio’s ear, sending chills down the younger man’s spine. “You look so beautiful like this,” he whispered, stroking his hair. “Look at me.”
Loczek turned to gaze into the Don’s gleaming eyes. Lazzaro held his stare for several seconds, until he saw Antonio regain his composure–without permission. He slammed his cock back into Loczek, and watched with eagerness and delight as his composure crumbled.
Loczek gasped, his bright blue eyes half-closing in lust. His shaped ass pressed against the Don’s thighs, desperately trying to get the cock as deep in as possible. Lazzaro let out a groan that he didn’t know he was holding, slamming his right hand onto the fine birch desk and forcing the left onto the back of Antonio’s neck, grasping just below the hairline. Antonio’s raven hair cascaded over the Don’s rough palms, practically begging to be pulled. And pull the Don did. Keeping his left on Antonio’s neck, he brought his other hand around and tangled it deep within Loczek’s locks. The younger man’s quick gasps turned into a high pitched whine as Lazzaro yanked his head backwards, almost to Lazzaro’s head level.
With a growl, the Mafia boss swung into a kiss, his lips roughly mashing against Antonio’s as his hips pounded away.
“Fuck!” Antonio moaned around the Don’s lips, his mouth eagerly sucking as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He needed to get some sense of control before he lost control of his body completely. Quickly, he nipped Lazzaro’s lips, then pulled away with a smile.
“I still am…” He gasped as Lazzaro’s penis hit his prostate again, “I still have a bit of my rebellious side in me.” He attempted a sloppy grin, but it ended up just melting into an expression of pure pleasure.
Lazzaro paused in his thrusting and yanked Antonio’s head back, up, pressing his rough lips to the younger man’s ear. Antonio could feel every hot breath, and the breaths came fast and hard, beating against his scalp and bringing waves of chills.
“Rebellious side? I guess I’ll just have to fuck that out of you.”
Loczek shivered faintly at the words. He knew it was a mistake to question Lazzaro’s authority, but he couldn’t help himself. Subversiveness had proven to be nothing but a fun time throughout his life. He had no regrets. “Try me,” he said.
Without warning, Lazzaro began thrusting inside of him again, harder and deeper than previously. He scooped up Loczek’s right leg and propped it on the desk so that he could go even deeper inside of him, knocking over the open bottle of olive oil in the process. Antonio turned his head to see where the bottle fell, but Lazzaro slammed his head back down. “Don’t fucking move,” he growled. Loczek obeyed, and tried to remain still as the Don had his way with him.
“Fucking use me!” groaned Loczek, and Lazzaro happily complied. His cock pumped in and out of the younger man’s puckered asshole, each thrust building the sensation billowing up deep within Loczek’s bowels. Prostate fluid started dripping in a steady stream from his painfully erect cock as Lazzaro continued thrusting. If this kept up, Loczek was going to come, and soon.
Lazzaro wasn’t faring much better. The younger man was so tight, and every thrust was like an explosion of pleasure. His cock glided smoothly on the olive oil, providing the perfect mixture of friction and ease as it slid in and out of the fluttering hole with little resistance. God, this man just felt so good. Loczek may not have had much experience, but he had spirit, and that was what counted. His whimpers and moans drove Lazzaro crazy, pushing him to the edge. And, by the involuntary clenching of Antonio’s toned ass, Lazzaro could tell that the younger man was close as well.
“Sir! I’m… I’m about to come!” Antonio moaned, his back arching in pleasure, resisting the hand on the back of his neck.
“Not. Until. I. Give. You. Permission.” Lazzaro grunted out, struggling to say the words without moaning.
But Antonio was rebellious by nature. Unable to control himself, Antonio felt the semen that had been rising finally burst free. He doubled over, pressing himself against the desk as Lazzaro continued thrusting. Each powerful stroke rubbed against his prostate, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through his body. His cumming only made the sensation more intense as his asshole clenched tighter around Lazzaro’s cock, milking it desperately. No longer able to suppress his cries, Antonio orgasmed passionately, emptying his balls onto the vintage carpet.
Lazzaro was displeased. “That was a family heirloom,” he growled, seizing Lazzaro by the hair. “And you’ve disobeyed me.”
He rapidly withdrew from Antionio’s asshole, causing the younger man to buck his hips forward and gasp. Lazzaro shoved a thumb into Loczek’s mouth, and yanked him forward face first onto his hands and knees. With his fingers sinking into the slurry of olive oil, sweat, and semen, Antonio stared with eyes full of wonder at the cock that had caused him to ruin an heirloom carpet.
Lazzaro cupped his hand around the young man’s eager face, one thumb holding his mouth open. He held him there for a second.
“You are going to swallow all of my cum.”
With the other hand, he grasped his massive penis and pumped it slowly. Already he was trembling. It was on the verge.
“Do what you must, master.” Antonio murmured, his words slurred as they wrapped around the thumb.
Lazzaro couldn’t hold it back any more. He came, blasting a hot load of jizz right down Antonio’s open mouth. His penis shivered, raw pleasure boiling out of him. For just a moment, he lost control, his back arching and his eyes rolling back into his head. A sudden wave of faintness came over him and he sank to his knees. Looking back down, he noticed Antonio still staring at him.
“Kiss me, Lazzaro.” Antonio said softly. Sweetly.
Lazzaro spared no words. His lips pressed against Antonio’s gently, and Antonio fell against him, pushing him to the carpet. Antonio lightly bit Lazzaro’s lip, and Lazzaro responded by parting his mouth slightly. As he did so, Antonio slipped his tongue in, probing, carefully entwining with Lazzaro’s. What was that taste? Thick and mild, with a hint of clean sweetness. It was his own semen.
“Do you like that?” Antonio mumbled, his tongue still touching the inside of Lazzaro’s lips.
“You mean my own taste? It’s… interesting.”
“I bet you’ve never had anyone as interesting as me.” Antonio smirked, pulling back and looking Lazzaro in the eye.
“My dear, I’ve never had anyone like you.” Lazzaro whispered, pulling Antonio down for another kiss.
It was that moment Antonio realized he would give anything to stay in, even for just a bit longer…but the urgency in the back of his mind returned.
“Lazzaro, what’s the time?” he demanded nervously, his hands feeling the floor for his pocket watch, which had slipped out of his pocket in the midst of their shenanigans.
Lazzaro sighed, the euphoria fading as he too remembered where he was. He glanced at the grandfather clock that Antonio had been too dense to notice. “Ten till,” he replied, fixing the button on his trousers and slicking back his mussed hair.
They both got dressed in silence, sparing glaces at each other the entire time. When they both stood ready, a minute left on the clock, Antonio lept into Lazzaro’s arms and wrapped his arms around his neck.
“When can we see each other again?” He asked, lips brushing Lazzaro’s ear.
“It’s risky, what we’re doing. I don’t think I’ll be able to see you often.”
“Any time you can spare will be worth it.”
“Well then…” Lazzaro pulled back, gazing into Antonio’s eyes. “Meet me at the dockyard. Third pier, nine o’ clock PM. I’ll be waiting.”
“It would be a pleasure.”
…….
A minute later, Antonio appeared on the steps and called for his men.
“The deal’s over,” he smirked, “It was very… successful.”