Keeping Up Appearances

"Later, later," he said back to Tony in a throaty voice. "Big. Make me big now. I want you to feel every inch of my length and width when I show you what an old Italian count can do to a young American sailor's ass."

The count pulled out of Tony's mouth and kissed down the young American's body until his mouth and tongue were at the young man's asshole. The rimming, kissing, licking, nibbling and tongue plunging went on for several minutes before he started forcing himself inside the young sailor with little lubricant. He had his hands under Tony's buttocks and was rotating the young man's hips back and forth on his huge cock head, pushing himself into the sailor. The count's ruggedly handsome-featured face was all intensity, painted with the determination to stretch the American's hole with his experienced, vigorous cock. His wavy salt-and-pepper-colored hair billowed around his head in the waning rays of light reflected up from the Mediterranean waters and through the French windows.

"Si, Si. God, that's good," the count, carried away with the intensity, cried out. "Fuck, you have one sweet ass! Young American ass. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

He gathered up Tony's legs with both of his hands and spread him wide, giving him purchase for that last couple of inches of cock. And then he rode him and rode him and rode him. Tony shot his seed far up the Italian patrician's belly long before Salvitore had come himself, in fast, furious, unrelentless strokes deep inside Tony. When the count did ejaculate, he collapsed on top of Tony and let out a couple of hoarse snores.

Then he didn't move. He became a dead weight. And when Tony rolled the man off him and to the side, he could see that Salvitore was turning blue, appeared to be unconscious, but was making snoring sounds.

Tony bounded off the bed and cried out, "Help. We need help in here. I think the count is having a heart attack."

Within seconds, villa servants started coming into the room, with one crying out for someone to call an ambulance as a couple of the servants brushed past the naked Tony and went to the equally naked Count Salvitore.

The word "Cut!" was bellowed out, the sound coming from where the count lay on the floor. The figure arose, becoming the Italian film director, Roberto Tufini, who had taken on the role of the count in the glossy porn gay male film they were shooting with the working title, "The Conte." It was a companion movie to the one Janet Jensen was staring in opposition Luc Rosen that was being called "The Contessa." Luc was playing the role of Tony, a young American sailor, in both films, the twist being they were doing two films at the same time, cutting costs by using the same scenery and basically the same plot. Claudia Polli didn't know about the gay male film, though, and Tufini thought she might pull out of the hetero production if she knew her young leading man and soon to be husband for convenience was in the gay film as well.

The actor playing the hunky winemaker in "The Conte" was one of the villa staff members who came pouring into the bedroom upon the alarm being raised that their employer was suffering a heart attack in the throes of gay sex.

Tufini turned to Luc to tell him the scene had gone well, but when he did, it was to find that Luc had pulled on his white naval trousers and had been pulled out of the room and toward the vineyard by the actor playing the role of Luigi.

* * * *

Luigi motioned to Tony and left the bedroom. The actor playing a young American sailor, Tony, pulled on his trousers and jumper and followed, barefooted. When he reached the corridor, the vintner gestured for Luc to follow him outside the villa, and Luc watched the fluid motion of the Italian's muscular body as he walked behind into the vineyard terraces.

Luc thought that the actor playing Luigi could have been a dancer despite his size. They walked out of the house and into the vineyard, where the rows of vines came almost up to the edge of the villa's rear terrace. When Luigi halted, deep down the corridors of the grapevine support fences, Luc didn't question what they were doing in the vineyard. When, as Tony, he had fucked himself on the count's shaft in the Lamborghini in the vineyard, Luc had known that the actor playing Luigi was watching them and was stroking himself off. That was in the script.

It was hot under the sun in the vineyard and both men stripped off their shirts as they walked down a row and beyond the sight of the villa. As they walked, Luigi was pointing out which grapes were begging to be plucked and how to harvest them without bruising their tender skins. And all the time his torso was in perpetual motion, moving like a master dancer. The men with the video cameras followed them, filming from different angles, but keeping each other out of the lens or the other cameramen's shadows.

They walked deep into the vineyard. The sun hadn't reached its zenith when Luigi called for a respite beside a small tractor with an enclosed cab. They hadn't been moving at random. Luigi pulled a blanket and a picnic basket out of the tractor's cab and fanned the blanket out on the ground under a tree, where a section of the vineyard made way for an olive orchard. He began unpacking the picnic basket. There were several bottles of wine, uncorked, ready for tasting. With a merry laugh, Luigi took one of these and handed Luc the other one. He leaned against a tree and saluted the American actor with the bottle before drinking directly from it in a long gulp. Even leaning against the tree, his finely sculpted body was in languid motion.

Luc saluted him back from a leaning position against a different tree and took a long drink from the bottle he'd been given. The wine was refreshing and smooth, with a slight kick to it at the end--just the thing to top an hour of hard work in the fields.

Luigi was grinning at Luc, swaying his torso, and Luc began to ache for the man.

"Just how old are you, sailor boy?" Luigi asked in a wine-thickened voice.

"Old enough," Luc said and flashed the Italian a beautiful smile. "Nineteen."

"Ah, yes, old enough in your country, in America, by a year. By several years here in Italy. You know what I was asking? And why?"

"Of course," Luc answered, feeling like they were falling into a dialogue that was familiar to him. Words rose into his voice almost as if of their own volition. "I saw it in your eyes on the stairs back at the villa. If you had not asked to come to the fields with me, I would have asked you to come myself. I'm sure you knew what the count and I were doing in his bedroom when he took ill."

Indicating he did know, Luigi said, "I brought you to a section of the fields where no one else will be coming today. Come away from that tree, Tony," the winemaker said huskily. "Come over here to me."

"It's cool here under this tree," Luc answered, asserting himself, showing some backbone. "I am hot; I need to be cooled down."

The cameras whirred away from the periphery, taking it all in.

"You need to be cooled down?" Luigi responded. And then, apparently impulsively, he rose from his crouch at the one tree and walked over to the other one. He upended the wine bottle he was carrying in front of Luc's face, watching the dark red fluid cascading down the young man's lithe, undulating torso and staining his cotton trousers and plastering them to his pelvis. One of the cameras zeroed in on the spreading stain of the wine.

At first Luc looked shocked, and then he laughed merrily and stood fast, taking the drenching with the wine. He extended his arm upended his own bottle of wine above Luigi's much broader, more heavily muscled chest.

Luigi pushed Luc roughly against the olive tree where its two main branches split and brutally attacked the young American's full-bodied lips with his. Luc answered Luigi's kiss, showing the muscular winemaker that he knew a thing or two about the technique himself. Luigi pulled away in surprise, but then he reached out and pulled Luc into his body.

Luc's mouth hungrily went to Luigi's chest and found his wine-cooled nipples. A hand went to Luc's crotch and almost lifted his lithe little body off the ground as Luigi quickly unbuttoned the flap fly of the now wine-stained sailor trousers, freed Luc's shaft, and cupped the young man's dick in his searching hands. Luigi stripped Luc's trousers off his legs as the young American's tongue and lips made their wine-tasting journey down the muscular Italian's chest and belly, and the Italian was exposed and ready for the American when Luc's mouth reached the man's shaft. Luigi leaned back into the crook of the olive tree, his torso still in swaying motion, and sighed and moaned for Luc, as the American took possession of his cock and sucked him to ejaculation.

When Luigi stood, he started to lick the wine off Luc's chest and belly as well, intending to do for the young American what Luc had done for him, but, on second thought, Luigi wanted to prolong the experience.

He took Luc by the hand and led him over to the spread blanket, warming in the olive tree-branch dappled sunlight of the strong Italian sun. Luigi stripped off his own wet pants, hearing the intake of Luc's breath when the American saw how well-endowed the Italian was, and sat down on the blanket, his legs stretched out in front of him. He then pulled Luc down close beside him.

Luc's hip was next to Luigi's, but Luigi pulled the American's torso over, across his chest, to where the young man's shoulder blades nestled against Luigi's chest and the curly black hair on top of his head was tickling Luigi under his chin. Luigi leaned over and plucked a long strand of oat grass that had found life between the rows of the vine stands. He encircled Luc's waist with one arm, his palm fanned out on the young man's lower belly, and, with the other hand, Luigi took the long, thick strand of grass and ran it across Luc's chest and thighs and cock and balls. The perpetual undulating motion of the young man's torso and legs matched the tracings of the grass on his beautiful little body, and, at length, with deep sighs, he turned his face to Luigi's and they kissed deeply, their tongues finding each other, their sweet, wine-infused juices joining together.

While They kissed, Luigi moved one of Luc's thighs up until it was on top of his. The nearness of him was intoxicating, and the motion of his body against the strand of grass was mesmerizing. Luigi pulled Luc farther up into his lap until the young man was on top of him, sitting in Luigi's lap. The Italian's long, hard, thick cock was running up the small of Luc's back, telling him precisely what Luigi wanted and that he couldn't wait much longer before he got it.

Luc's back was in languid motion as well, so he was making love to Luigi's cock, rubbing the small of his back across it. He was making humming noises, and his body was trembling as well as moving. Luigi knew that Luc wanted him too.

The young American raised his arm around the back of Luigi's neck, bringing the Italian's lips back to his. they kissed tenderly, and then Luc looked deeply into Luigi's eyes.

"Now? Will you fuck me now? Please," he asked.

"Yes, now," Luigi said huskily.

Luc drew his calves up under his thighs then, keeping Luigi's pelvis between them. He reached behind him and found Luigi's cock, which was a little hard to miss, and then raised his hips up, with his weight on his knees, and just backed his asshole onto the Italian's cock.

Surprisingly, Luc had no problem at entry, even though Luigi was quite large and thick, and the Italian's shaft glided all the way in to the hilt. Then, Luc just started his hips in an undulating rhythm above Luigi, stroking in and out above the older man, alternating with rotations of his hips, fucking himself on Luigi's throbbing cock. The sensation was phenomenal. Luigi was mining the young American deep, and his ass canal walls, like his torso, were in perpetual motion, making love to Luigi's cock in wave after wave of caressing as it churned inside him.

Luigi was loving this, but he wanted to still the young man's body, wanted to feel him at peace. The Italian slowly rolled the American so that he was belly down on the blanket, and Luigi was covering him completely from above, Luigi's thighs holding Luc's close between them, Luigi's nipples gouging into Luc's shoulder blades, Luc's arms stretched on top of Luigi's, the American's fingers entwined with the Italian's, Luigi's pelvis churning around on Luc's plump butt cheeks.

The young American's torso quieted down, stopped its perpetual motion, but his hips were still in motion, a little elevated and rotating in countermotion to Luigi's downward stroking deep inside him with his pulsating cock. The blanket had bunched up so that their pelvises were directly atop the rich Italian soil of the hillside. Luc's hard dick was stroking along the surface of the mossy grass, fucking the fertile earth of Italy.

Luigi could feel himself ready to come. He pulled his cock out so that the head was just beyond the ring near the opening to Luc's asshole, and the Italian found the American's prostrate with the tip of the head and rubbed back and forth. Luc was moaning and groaning especially loud now, and Luigi felt him tense and shoot his load in the grass, spreading his semen on the ancient land of the noble Ghibertis, blessing the grape harvest in a ritual that just might have been part of tradition in centuries past. Luigi ground Luc's pelvis into the grass then, with a strong deep thrust of his cock down into the center of the young American, where he injected spouting after spouting of good old Italian semen into the ass of the American whose parents had deserted Italy.

Luigi held Luc pinned to the ground with his long, thick shaft, waiting and hoping. Luc gave a long, lingering sigh, and Luigi felt all of the tension drain out of the young American, leaving him at complete peace. Luc was still stretched out on the ground, moaning and purring, when Luigi rose off him, retrieved his stained trousers, and disappeared into another row of the grape vines.

"And cut," a beaming Roberto Tufini declared from the semicircle of cameramen who were filming it all. "That was terrific," he said. "This will be an excellent movie."

When he was able Luc returned to the villa and found one of the film crew members to drive him back to the hotel in Naples where they were staying. Claudia Polli was in the lobby bar and motioned for him to join her, but he wasn't in the mood to talk to her. He most definitely didn't want to have to maneuver around why so much of the filming was being done without her--that they were filming a gay male version of the movie she was working on--that it wouldn't be just "The Contessa." There were be a "The Conte" version too.

It hit Luc in the elevator that he didn't know the real name of the actor playing Luigi in "The Conte"--the man who had covered him better than any other man than Grant Gould, who Luc had been separated from to keep up appearances. This was a man Luc possibly could forget Gould for. He had been so sexy and masterful--and inventive in sex. Luc would have to find out who he really was.

When he got to his room and started looking at the script for the next scene to be filmed for "The Conte," though, he was deflated. There would just be more of the same in sex acts in "The Conte." If there had been a coherent storyline, it would just be lost. It wasn't an erotica film; it was just porn. The Luigi character was just another controlling top; he wouldn't be developed into a love interest.

Well, shit, he thought, soured on this move now. It would be a miracle if he made it through getting these two movies in the can before he couldn't take anymore.

It didn't help later, when he went down to the dining room, to find Roberto Tufini and Claudia Polli discussing the logistics of the impromptu wedding Luc was expected to fall into with Claudia for the titillation of the gossip columnists and to clean up any thought that he and Grant Gould were a couple.

* * * *

Luc stayed with the production of the dual movies to the end of filming. That fulfilled the contract that brought in enough money for him to manage for some time. His agent, Victor Parsons, had come to Naples for the wrap-up of the movie and to help Claudia Polli and Roberto Tufini in planning the "impromptu" wedding that the paparazzi would conveniently be informed about that would boost the reporting on "The Contessa" in the showbusiness media. Tufini hadn't wanted effort to go to the specific planning of the "surprise" event until the film of both movies was in the cans, and Luc took no part in the planning.

He did continue having sex with Claudia Polli for the purposes of appearances, with these trysts preceded by steamy evenings at night spots in Naples to keep the gossip columnists buzzing. Tufini also continued to demand his privileges with Luc in bed--but far from the eyes of the paparazzi and gossip columns. Luc didn't see the actor who played Luigi in "The Conte" again after their vineyard sex scene had been filmed, but the encounter had caused Luc several hours of considering what--and who--he really wanted in life. The scene had been so real and satisfying but, at the same time, so fake and disillusioning.

On the day of the "impromptu" event, with the paparazzi lured to a remote Sorrento beach, Luc Rosen already was half way across the United States in a jet headed for Los Angeles. He didn't really care how Parsons or Tufini--or even Claudia Polli--would feel about him ditching the fake wedding. They'd ultimately be happy. All of the appearances and publicity they were trying to garner through that farce would be realized. The gossip columns would eat the failed wedding up like candy. It would probably generate more fluttering PR and box office revenues than if the wedding had gone ahead as planned.

He wasn't real sure where, exactly, he was headed when he reached L.A., but he was right on the first try when he arrived at the Hermosa Avenue ocean-front house on Manhattan Beach. He knew he was right when he heard the snoring. The first thing he did was go around pulling all of the drapes open.

"No more secrets," he called out to the world in general.

The next thing was to ferret out all of the whiskey bottles, both empties and those still with some liquor in them, drain them, trash them in the can in the garage, and drag the can out to the curb.

Only then did he go looking for Grant Gould, passed out on the lounge bed on the pool terrace in the small atrium. It was going to be a long haul to pull Gould back up from the depths and an even longer one--starting with looking for a new agent for him after he was sober again--but they would face that together. And they would face it in public, Luc was resolved.

Fuck keeping up appearances.