he felt the eyelashes against him at the same moment Domenico’s hand found his sex and, stroking it, brought it to life.
Tonio was so shocked that he almost killed it.
Again he let his eyes close. And when Domenico kissed him, he felt his passion collecting, and then Domenico’s hand opening the cloth, freeing his sex to go its full length as Domenico appeared to look down and utter some little oath under his breath, and then turning his face up again he kissed Tonio roughly, parting his lips, drawing the breath out of him, and giving it back as his hands shaped and hardened what they held so tightly.
Tonio couldn’t stop himself from going up under the dress and when he felt the hard small organ there, he drew back as if he’d touched something hot, and again Domenico kissed him.
In a moment, they were both of them on their knees, and then Domenico lay under Tonio on the stone floor and was offering himself face up as if he were a woman.
It was tight, oh, so tight, and so very like a woman, tighter even at its very mouth and rough, so that he gritted his teeth and gave an awful moan between them. He thrust harder and harder until at last he’d felt the pinnacle and then he lay there shuddering.
He was staring down at Domenico. He didn’t remember drawing away, but he was sitting against the mirror, his knees to one side just looking at the little girl on the floor who now rose as languidly and gracefully as she did everything else until she was standing over him.
He was too dazed to speak. And it had all happened so quickly, the same as before, there was no difference! He felt a mindless urge to rise and take the figure in his arms again, to crush it with kisses, eat at it with kisses.
To rip that little ribbon away from the breast and see what was there!
But Domenico had already pulled loose the clasps of the dress and let it fall around him. At the sight of the gossamer chemise Tonio winced. And then it too fell to the floor and the great white wig was lifted and laid aside as Domenico shook out his moist black curls, tossing them free in a rather mannish, head-forward gesture.
Tonio was staring wide-eyed at him. His body so not a woman’s body, no, not at all, and yet it was certainly not the body of a man either.
The chest was flat; only the size of the lungs gave it its full shape and the skin as everywhere else was beautiful. And the sex itself was a short but rather thick penis, hard now, and eager for what it could get, obviously.
But the most mystifying thing of all was that the dark hair around it had the shape of a woman’s hair, not a man’s, which grows wildly up onto the belly. Rather it was straight across the top as if it had been shaved with a razor, and therefore formed a dark inverted triangle exactly like the hair of a woman.
But all of the body engrossed him, the lovely skin and the slender graceful legs, the beautiful face with its remnants of paint and the full dark hair falling down like that of those large marble angels.
This creature came down now on his knees.
Tonio turned away.
“Do you think I want of you what you don’t have to give?” Domenico whispered. “Take me again, and this time on the hard floor with nothing under me but your hand,” he said, and he lay down on his face, drawing Tonio on top of him.
Tonio drew up, looking at the small tight buttocks under him. He was engulfed by the memory of that tight opening, its little rough mouth that was almost too tight and the warmth inside of it. And suddenly he collapsed on the naked figure, feeling its nakedness against his rough clothes, the bare flesh of the neck under his teeth, as Domenico drew his right hand down under the smooth belly and placed that thick, hard sex in it.
Tonio felt himself stiffen, gasp. He was inside of the boy again and he rode him with one vicious thrust after another. He felt his hand close on that sex, abusing it, working it as if he meant to break it off as the boy moaned against the cold floor, and when Tonio felt the climax again, Domenico shuddered beneath him.