Tino’s Contract

Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

A tale of lust for Halloween.

There was a chill wind whistling around the leafy suburbs and the children had long since ceased their seasonal, costumed revelry.

Halloween is an odd day for a birthday but so it is that many such odd birthdays are celebrated without any supernatural disruption caused where the world of the spirits and the world of the living meet.

There are, however, exceptions and as the evening drew on and swirling clouds raced past a bright moon, the silhouettes of wind blown leaves could easily be mistaken for unearthly things in flight.

Seated at his desk, tired and feeling sorry for himself, the figure of Doctor Caldiero betrayed his mood, his mind wandered. A rare glass of wine with his supper was perhaps the catalyst but by no means the only cause of these mental meanderings.

At 64, a year away from his official retirement, Tino’s mind and body were pretty sharp, even after a splendid celebration of his birthday in a swanky restaurant, downtown.

He took pleasure in challenges of an intellectual nature and was working out as hard these days as he ever had, although he was conscious of needing more recovery time.

During the 1980’s his PHD research into nutrition in support of muscle growth for sports training had led to the establishment of a course specifically for students of physical education and sports majors, eventually expanding into a faculty, which he headed, providing education in all aspects of what had become known, collectively, as sport sciences within one of our most renowned universities. He’d done everything there was to do in his field and he was treading water.

One would be hard pressed to find many men as fit or as strong as the doctor at this age for he had always had a passion for training, which originally led to his chosen path in research and then his broader career. Since turning 60, thinking about his body image and hating the process of accepting the inevitable decline in his physique had become a major preoccupation.

As a rational scientist, with access to frontier research data in physiology, neurology, nutrition and bio-chemistry, he realised that, with the passing years, no increase in effort, no dietary supplement, no miracle drug, no surgery was going to prevent the entropy that is inevitable, not just in ourselves but in everything around us; our homes, the cities we live in, the trees and even the mountains decline and fall. Understanding this fundamental truth was not the same as accepting the mood of gloom it brought.

Most of the time the uncomfortable facts of ageing led the good doctor to get on with all aspects of his busy life without obsessing and grief but here he was, contemplating the gathering of his colleagues next year for his last day in office and saying goodbye to everything his academic work had built. What then?

He’d been single for almost four years. The occasional ‘visitor’, nights out and sometimes nights in with friends (Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies? What did all that mean anyway), were his outlets for social and sexual pleasure. He still needed that, needed it bad sometimes too.

Taking care of yourself has its benefits in that way and can lead you to unexpected pleasures with much younger companions, those who could ignore the numbers, those who didn’t continue “You’re in amazing shape,” with “For a man of your age!”

What of trying to settle down again though? He missed not having a significant other. He was out of place in a world much younger than himself, out of touch with the music and culture of those for whom he felt sexual attraction. He couldn’t stand the shallow coldness of social media “Friends”, men of his own age had mostly gone stale both in body and mind and even colleagues, twenty years or more his junior, those just beginning to understand what it’s like to deal with the changes that advancing years will always bring, seemed somehow at a tangent to his way of life.

With a startling clarity, Caldiero had realised the true tragedy of ageing for all of those high profile, beautiful people in the media, who cannot grow young in mind any more than they can prevent the decay in their bodies. He realised what a curse it would be to remain forever young as the world around you is growing old and, in desperation, trading tips with their contemporaries on the next program of fashionable regenerative treatment.

Arriving at this sombre but oddly invigorating conclusion, he stayed sane with his pragmatic approach, which refreshed his eagerness to make the most of every day and work with what he had. Thoughtfully, he glanced down at the papery skin of an old man on the back of his right hand and how his corded right forearm, liberally forested in short, dark hair distracted the eye from it. The broad metal bracelet of his chronometer glinted in the spotlight of his desk lamp as he turned his thick wrist to read the time, it was approaching midnight,

It occurred to him that it was high-time he turned in, when he was snapped out of his lethargy by a sudden knock at the door.

Surely an emergency of some sort. A neighbour in need of help perhaps. Certainly not a night for casual callers and way too late for anyone canvassing or selling. Who on earth could it be. There was no illuminated bell push to display “Dr.Faustino Caldiero”.

His bare feet conveyed him noiselessly to the spy hole at his front door and looking out into the fish-eye world of his front porch, Tino saw a stocky figure, dressed in black with his back turned to the door. A sports bag squatted alongside the visitor, who turned back into view under the porch light. Beneath a wide hood, as the head tilted upwards, could be seen wide, strong cheekbones, a broad nose, subtly crooked, like his own and a short, dense beard of black, through which the faintest warmth of lips might just be glimpsed. The head inclined to indicate the visitor was listening. Tino held his breath.

A hand reached up and pulled back the hood and Tino recoiled. The face revealed was uncannily like his own. The shock made him step back and as he did so, the door somehow unlatched and opened.

The usually calm, logical mind of the career scientist reeled in confusion.

“Father.” Spoke the figure in black, the open doorway revealing an impressive even imposing man. Wide at the shoulder, thick muscular neck, the jacket was narrowly quilted and tapered sharply suggesting a thickly muscled chest and big arms, then at the waist, baggy, black gym shorts did little to conceal the powerful thighs of this man which rippled in time to the ripped sinuous diamonds of his calves as he picked up his bag and stepped forward over the threshold.

Had there been any breath in his body to reply, Tino could not have made himself respond. His senses struggling to process what he was seeing and that word, spoken as if into the vaulted roof of a great gothic cathedral, resounded around the inside of his head.

The apparition, reached calmly for the door handle and quietly closed it behind him. Unzipped the short jacket, which opened to reveal a wide expanse of black T shirt, tautly covering a carefully sculpted rack of pectoral and abdominal muscle, subtly highlighted by the hallway light above his head. At the neck, bluish beard stubble gave way to dark, recently trimmed tufts of curling, black body hair frothing over the binding.

“I guess a hug would be a little premature.” Murmured the man with a hint of disappointment. “I understand your surprise. You were, of course, not expecting me.”

Recovering slightly, Tino regarded his visitor, as this latest utterance careered into the echoing void, jamming all the questions crowding his secret thoughts, beginning a jostling, disorderly queue behind his tongue.

Struggling for clarity, images swam in Tino’s brain. Although he knew it could not be.

A sophomore party long ago. The clothes, the hair, the music of the 1970’s. A familiar face, Tony, the guy all the girls adored, the guy that Tino himself secretly adored. Tony’s current squeeze, Althea. Small, dark and pretty, with an unfashionable, boyish bob. Then they are naked all of them together. Tony pinning Tino down by his arms, slapping his face with his long fat cock, taunting, feeding Tino his ball-sac to lick and suck on. Althea hunched between Tino’s legs swallowing his member and then she’s riding him and Tony has hold of Tino’s head and is fucking his mouth with long strokes and foaming saliva and semen and Tino ejaculates into Althea’s lithe little body without ever seeing her quivering orgasms and incongruously lust-contorted features.

He knows it’s a fake, an hallucination. How could it be a memory when he couldn’t have seen Althea beyond Tony’s body? Who were these people? His analytical mind raced to understand but he just wanted to accept it, as if a hand, like Tony’s was pushing the back of his head and forcing him to swallow what, somehow, he had always wanted. Was it? Was he secretly craving a long lost son? Trying to push out the deception and gasping as if for air, Tino sought out these longings in his memories and suddenly they were there. Dinner parties with colleagues, their children and more recently their grandchildren. Then again came Tony and Althea, before the divorce, walking happily along the beach. Althea carrying their newly born daughter, Tony, hand in hand with two sons and a toddler on his shoulders. How happy they were.

Wait a minute! Tony and Althea were childless! They’d been a brief romance in college!

It was all so plausible to a man in a state of shock. A stranger, remarkably, uncannily like a younger version of himself, presented as his own son. Tino had a perfect right to be confused and disorientated. He looked and looked at the younger man, patiently shifting his weight from foot to foot.

A name came into his mind, unbidden. Matteo, Matt. “Matt?” he croaked

“You remember!” Smiled the visitor as an infectious grin, like the break in dark clouds, lit his handsome face.

“All those years Tony thought you were his and brought you up as his own.” Stammered Tino, choking down tears.

“You know he loved you, don’t you?” Interjected the stranger. “He knew you loved him too.”

Tino knelt and submitted to the onslaught, accepting the reconstruction of his memories by whatever force was overwhelming his mind. He raised his tear streaked face to greet a look of concern on the handsome visage of the new arrival, his only son.

Matteo stepped forward and carefully scooping big hands under Tino’s armpits gathered up the crumpled Doctor and raised him to his feet.

“Happy birthday, Dad!” Said Matt in a tender, quiet tone, his warm breath and deep, rumbling voice made Tino quiver with a cocktail of conflicting emotions. Suddenly, he was no longer who he had been but one thing hadn’t changed, as he relished the strong arms around him, the bearded cheek against his, the warmth of that muscular body pressed to his own, the masculine scent awakening his animal instincts and the pressure of his thickening cock all told him that whoever this guy was, he was going to get the fucking of his life.

Tino let his hormones bring him back to his senses, revelling in the powerful response of his sexuality, restoring his vigour, pumping blood around his body and oxygen into his shocked brain. He wrapped his arms tightly around that powerful chest and back, feeling his own muscles electrify as they rubbed against Matteo’s fabulous hirsute masculinity.

The pulse in his ear stopped.

His body was silent and motionless.

He couldn’t even blink.

He felt no need to breathe. Another voice sounded in the room or in his head. It was resonant, it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time and it reminded him strongly of somebody but could not remember to whom it belonged.

“There is a price for this privilege, Faustino Caldiero.” Declaimed the voice. “This beautiful treasure that comes to you tonight as a gift on the anniversary of your birth.”

Once again, Tino was tormented with questions and paralysed, unable to ask but it seemed he was anticipated.

“I send this creature, Matteo, which you desire. He knows only the truth you have given him. His body is yours, you know it as you knew your own.” Insisted the intruder. “I hold the power of life and death over you both.” It continued. “You are suspended outside time and in your world, technically speaking, you are dead.” It preached.

Helpless to respond, the rising tide of panic in Tino stalled. All he could do was listen.

“You can never forget his existence.” Cautioned his captor.” He is joined to you just as your beard and your teeth are part of you. If you wish, he will stay with you, he will love you like no other could and you he.” Intoned the voice. “At midnight on your next birthday, he will return to me and you with him. That is the price.” Warned the voice. “You may, of course, return to your past life of decline but you will never meet again and you will never know what might have been between you.”

These words stabbed at Tino like a hot spear. What was there to look forward to in his past life? Memories, past achievements, failing health, regrets. How could he live not knowing this “Gift”? Why would he just go back?”

He felt a brief, sharp pain at the vein in the crook of his left elbow, a tiny trickle of blood flowed there and without the movement of a hair, he felt his will take up the ghostly index finger of his right hand, dip it into his own blood and write “Tino” on Matteo’s motionless forehead.

In an instant, his pulse raced, his breath whispered as he nuzzled into Matteo’s cheek and beard, his heart pounded in his chest. He pulled away just far enough to look up at Matt’s forehead, down at his left arm and at his right index finger. Nothing. A cold sweat on his brow, he knew that it was real and immediately knew with whom he had contracted.

A warm hand tenderly laid on his bearded jaw guiding his head towards Matteo’s own , that reassuring face moved in for the first of many passionate kisses. Kisses as no other could kiss. 10 minutes past midnight, lips and tongues entwined Tino knew that Matteo would instinctively respond and do whatever pleased him most.

He lifted the younger man’s meaty paw to his mouth and kissed it’s palm before leading Matteo to his bedroom. Matteo shucked off his jacket and Tino lifted the black T shirt off as Matt raised his arms in a perfectly synchronised movement and Tino dove right into the dank musky valleys of his pits, the deep, furry cleft between his powerful pecs and the downy ripples of his hard abdomen. Matt kicked off his black trainers, just as Tino reached inside the waistband of his shorts and they slipped down those massive legs to the floor as Matt’s fat cock bounced into view and into Tino’s hungry gullet in one gulp like a seal swallowing a fish.

Matt clamped his big hands over the back of Tino’s head and pressed down hard. Tino’s face was deeply buried in the dank curling undergrowth of Matteo’s groin, working his throat muscles on his shaft, Tino’s arms wrapped around the massive, bristling pillars of Matteo’s thighs, Tino’s hands parting the downy cheeks of Matt’s arse and his thick fingers groped for the tender centre of that musky glade.

Just as Tino was beginning to think he’d black-out from lack of oxygen, Matteo’s hips pressed forward, sandwiching Tino’s face in an irresistible grip, he pumped his hot sperm into Tino’s belly.

As soon as he felt Matt’s great tree-trunk legs buckle with the force of his orgasm, Tino siezed his chance to free his face enough to gasp in a breath that whistled down his wind-pipe, past the tumescent flesh tube cramming his gullet, he sank happily back into that blissful tangle of pubic hair, with Matt’s dangling testicles at his chin.

Mentally confirming the wisdom of his decision to accept Mephistopheles’ contract, he busied his fingers at Mateo’s hole as he milked the last dribbles of semen from his prostate, it was Tino’s turn to grip the quivering fucker before him, tantalising that tender flesh, drawing out the rapture of losing your load in a series of brain busting explosions and spasmodic aftershocks. Matteo was putty in his strong grasp, quivering like a giganticrag doll, his head lolling, groaning and moaning uncontrollably, Tino was overjoyed. In the confinement of his smart dinner suit his own genitals were painfully confined but such was his ecstasy and his anticipation, the strangulation of his folded hard-on goaded him like a race horse under the whip.

Without releasing his bear-hug, Tino came up for air once more, using the opportunity to topple Matteo onto his bed, he moved quickly to hoist those titanic legs and grasping Matt’s ankles he plunged his saliva covered face into the musky depths of Matteo’s gloriously furry butt crack. Without a pause in his orgasmic groaning and moaning Matteo clasped his hands behind his knees, pulling them back and wide and encouraging Tino to force his legs into a wide splits that seemed impossible for such a powerful physique. Instinctively, Tino repositioned his hands, propping up Matt’s beautiful bubble-butt, affording him the greatest possible access and he wasted no time in chowing down like a beast on that irresistible offering before him.

Matt’s cock twitched and his ball-sack writhed as Tino devoured his hot slippery hole and penetrated him with his skillfull tongue. He tried to raise his head to see the scene playing out on the dressing table mirror, lit from the hallway, through the open door but each time Tino chomped on his arse and thrust his tongue into him his head slapped back onto the mattress and his eyes rolled back uncontrollably under the upper lid, he pulled his legs wider apart and wished he could open right out for those sucking lips, those nibbling teeth and that probing tongue to work their magic even deeper into him.

Tino could stand it no longer, with lightening speed he tore open his fly, scooped a hand under his painfully cramped genitals, drawing them out into the open with a bestial grunt, where the angry, steel hard helmet of his cock seemed to faintly glow, silken in the gloom. He grabbed those ankles again and fell on the prone figure, split open and ready before him, pressed his cock against the gaping ring of Matteo’s arse and burst into the man’s guts in an act of uncharacteristic brutality. Matt yelled as Tino ground his pubic mound into the body below him, spearing him with one long punching thrust.

Tino stifled him with his mouth, thrusting his tongue right into the tonsils, filling Matteo to the max at both ends. Matt’s response was to clamp his massive legs around Tino’s torso and locking his feet together at the ankle over the small of Tino’s back, crushing their bodies together in an unbreakable embrace.

Tino thought his heart would burst with joy as his cock throbbed inside Matt’s hot body, he looked down into the face of his younger self and saw the same stern look of lust, fulfilment and total happiness reflected back at him. he twitched his cock inside Matteo, Matt twitched his cock, pressed between their hard bellies and in so doing clamped his ring around Tino’s shaft. They smiled at each other in wordless acceptance of their perfect communication and with the slow, piston motion of a great steam engine, Tino drew out his cock and plunged back in, electrifying both of them. They kissed deeply as his tempo increased until their bodies generated so much inertia they could no longer lock their mouths together and slightly parted they share one another’s air.

Tino loved the feel of the muscle and the pelt beneath him, it seemed to be driving his copulation as Matt’s gripping legs and pumping hips brought them crashing together with each stroke. His whole being seemed to rise up onto a peak of multi-sensory pleasure and hover there for what seemed like an age, savouring this tremendous potency, driving everything he had into this man, the other drawing out that power and giving it back like the circulation of one, well oiled machine.