"Beautiful. Very sexy. Sensual. The rocking horse position now, please."
Fifty-year-old, slim, elegant, movie-star handsome Emberto Ricci, owner of the Arno Art Gallery in Florence, Italy, near the Gallerie Degli Uffizi art museum on the banks of the Arno, sat on an ottoman near the four-poster bed of the master bedroom of his elegant flat above his art gallery. He was watching his young
amante maschile
--male lover--Mateo, fuck the young American tourist, twenty-year-old Jason Sands. Emberto had found Jason, who had said he was a university student taking a cultural gap year journey and who Emberto had called an angel, roaming the Gallerie Degli Uffizi.
The sensuous, well-muscled, but slender, blond body of the handsome young American was repositioned to lying, belly down, on the bed, his ankles hooked on a bolster, and his torso in a bow. The younger, nineteen-year-old, more muscular, sultry, dark-haired Italian youth, Mateo, stretched over Jason's back, putting the American in a full Nelson hold that had Jason's arms reaching, artistically, toward the Italian Renaissance-painted ceiling of Emberto's art-filled old-world townhouse. Mateo's ankles also were hooked on the bolster and, as directed, cock buried in Jason's ass, he rocked the two, as one elegant unit, like a rocking horse, letting the rocking action control the fuck.
There had been very little seduction needed. The American youth seemed anxious to sample men while on his European adventure. He hadn't even brought up being paid. After a bit of chit-chat, establishing their shared interest in good art, Emberto had said what he was interested in engaging the American to do and Jason had fallen right in with the plan.
Emberto, ever aware of the artistic arrangement of everything, had set the pose of the beautiful, joined, rocking young bodies. He, like the young men he was watching fuck, was naked, although he had a Japanese silk robe hanging off his shoulders. He was sitting, legs spread, robe flared open, on the ottoman, leaning in toward the tableau of the two young lovers, and was stroking his cock. It usually was him under Mateo, who he had acquired from a construction site and was training in the visual arts, but on occasion, like now, he'd see another young man he would like to see under Mateo and imagine it was him, Emberto, at a much younger age.
Jason had been such a young man, encountered at the premier Florence art gallery. He was an angel, a beautiful young man. It didn't matter that he was an American. He had elegance and grace and Italian Renaissance beauty. Emberto collected art of beautiful young male nudes; he produced art photographs of them as well.
Jason said he was taking a gap year in his studies at Princeton in the United States--that he was studying art and rebalancing his life after not having made the U.S. Olympics gymnastics team. His ancestors had come from the Florence area of Italy, so here he was. He was all of the beautiful things Emberto loved and admired--and wanted to possess.
Over coffee at a café on Lungarno della Grazie, running along the banks of the Arno, between the museum and Emberto's own art gallery, Jason admitted that he was gay and, although his family could afford his trip and thought they were paying for it, Jason was making his way across Europe from one art center to the other by letting men pick him up and cover him for the time they spent together.
"So, you're saying we should be talking the price for your making yourself available to me this afternoon?" Emberto asked. He pulled his wallet out and placed it on the table to show that he was willing to pay and to negotiate a price for Jason's body.
"Not at all," Jason said, covering Emberto's hand on his wallet with his own hand. "Please don't misunderstand. I let men pay my way when I am with them as they seem to want to, not because I can't afford to travel and take care of myself. I told you I was a submissive. I think it is part of the role of a submissive to let men take care of him, and the men I go with seem to agree. But it's only when the two are together and enjoying each other's company. I don't go with men to make money or if I am not enjoying their company. I'm not a prostitute. I do enjoy sex with a fascinating man, though."
"So, you are a submissive to men you would enjoy?" Emberto asked.
"Yes."
"And you could think of me as sufficiently fascinating? You could be submissive to me?"
"Yes, of course. You most certainly are a fascinating man." Jason gave Emberto a level smile, leaving his hand covering Emberto's on the man's wallet. Their conversation continued comfortably and on a more intimate level.
Yes, he thought Emberto was a handsome man. Yes, he would love to see Emberto's art gallery and what the older man had done with his flat above.
"I am an artist as well as a gallery owner," Emberto said. "I photograph beauty--the beauty of men's bodies. The beauty of them in motion, melding together. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Yes, Jason could understand that.
"Could you enjoy having your body being worshipped--by someone other than me? Someone more your age and your level of beauty? And being immortalized on film?"
Yes, Jason could see the art in that, and he found it intriguing.
"You are a beautiful young man, Jason. And you say you were a gymnast. You would be very flexible and fluid in motion, I am sure. Being submissive to me might be different from what you would assume. I have this young lover, Mateo."
"You cover him?"
"No. He covers me and he arouses me by covering other young men while I photograph them coupling together while I watch."
"Ah."
"You would be averse to--?"
No, Jason would not be averse to going under Emberto's
amante maschile
, Mateo, for Emberto to enjoy watching--and to photograph and paint, as he liked. Yes, Jason had kept up his gymnastics and was limber, and, yes, he enjoyed taking unusual sex positions.
Emberto paid for the coffees. As he extracted the money, he pulled out a wad of high-denomination euros and extended them toward Jason. The young man smiled, shook his head, and gently pushed Emberto's hand back.
"I'm traveling to appreciate art," he said. "I do not have to be paid to become art or to enjoy an interesting afternoon with a man I find fascinating."
"You are a refreshing young man, Jason. May you always maintain beauty and rise above the ugliness that is in life."
"So, if I go with you, you will not think of me as a prostitute?"
"Oh, my, no. I will think of you as a fellow artist--and as an angel worthy of being in Florence."
They rose from the table, and Emberto guided Jason to the art gallery, where, in one of the backroom galleries, he showed off paintings and photographs of young men fucking in elegant poses. Jason had been impressed not only with the high quality of the paintings but also the inventiveness of the poses. The rocking chair position was a favorite of his.
"Yes, I could do that," Jason said when asked. And, so, he did it with Mateo, as Emberto sat, naked except for the Japanese robe hanging from his shoulders, on his ottoman and, after putting his camera aside, stroked his own cock.
"Now, I would like to see your lovely cock appearing and disappearing in this luscious young man, Mateo," Emberto said. "Perhaps the position of the stiff-incline pushup."
Mateo kicked the bolster away as Jason went fully prone under him on his belly and stretched out in the position of the cross--his legs together and his arms stretched straight out from his shoulders.
