Guido’s snoring woke up fourteen-year-old Matteo. Hunky Guido, naked, lay flat on his back on the bed. Matteo turned on his side and looked at his mother’s boyfriend. The man had finally gotten what he wanted from Matteo. The boy had wondered for some time if the truck driver, younger than Matteo’s mother—half way between her age and Matteo’s—showed up here to fuck his mother because he was really sniffing after Matteo. Not that Matteo’s mother wasn’t good-looking enough for a young, muscled-up truck driver to want to fuck, of course. But now Matteo knew that the man wanted to fuck boys too—and boys built like Matteo now was.

His mother was off in Rome, buying cameras for her shop in Milan, and still Guido had shown up, bringing whiskey, and sharing that with Matteo. A couple of hours drinking and watching football matches together on the sofa in front of the TV and Guido was on top of Matteo and inside him, and Matteo was beyond the stage of struggling against the bigger, much more muscular man.

Matteo couldn’t deny that he wanted this from men—and that Guido was all man. The man had been fascinated with the changes made with the boy—now a T-girl. He had delighted on sucking on the nipples of Matteo’s pert new breasts and with playing in the folds of his new vagina. He’d happily lapped at the vestigial penis at the head of the folds to hear Matteo pant and moan—and to have the boy come for him. He had made a big production of getting his shaft in the surgically provided cunt, playing in the folds of the snatch with the cap of his cock, teasing it, and sighing and groaning himself when he discovered that, yes, it did slide. After that, though, it was much the same fuck as if he was screwing a woman. Once Guido was mounted on Matteo, inside him with that big cock of his, and moving his hips, forward and back, fucking Matteo deep, the boy couldn’t help himself. With whimper and moans, he dug his fingernails into the stud’s biceps and set his pelvis in motion, going with the fuck.

When they’d moved the action into the bedroom—on Matteo’s bed because he balked at doing it in his mother’s bed—Matteo was as much into the fuck as Guido was.

But it wasn’t right. Not because it was male-on-male action, but because Guido was Matteo’s mom’s boyfriend. It wasn’t fair to her. It needed to stop. Once she’d tossed Guido out, then Matteo wouldn’t feel so bad about going with the hunk. But would she believe Matteo if he told her her boyfriend was fucking him too? Whether or not she believed it just from what Matteo claimed, would she do anything about it?

He didn’t want to hurt his mother. He’d been unhappy with her when she made his father move away. He’d been happy with his father and didn’t care what anyone else said about it. But she had supported Matteo. She had let him be fully transformed when that’s what he wanted. She had supported him in that, even as young as he had been. It was a private matter for him though. He still dressed as a boy and wanted to be addressed as such. It’s just that, privately, he now felt he was who he was meant to be all along.

He would discuss what was what with potential partners and go with them only if what he had become was what they wanted. Guido had seen him as he was and had shown curiosity and interest ever since. Matteo couldn’t help but wonder how everything would fit with Guido and did his best to suppress that. Guido was his mother’s boyfriend.

Guido fit just fine inside him, though, and that now complicated everything.

There was one thing he could do to change this situation. His mother owned a camera shop in Milan. Matteo had two of her cameras, an expensive Canon EOS 2000D and an equally expensive Panasonic Lumix, in the duffel bag beside his bed with the clothes in it he’d put there to go off with his friends camping outside Milan that weekend. His mother knew that’s what he was going to do—go to a youth camp with friends—and that he’d be gone when she returned from Rome. She also knew he was taking the cameras. He wanted to be a photographer and she had the shop to support that wish. It was fine with her that he took the cameras. He worked in her shop sometimes and helped explain the cameras to prospective customers. It was good for him to be fully versed in using them.

If words wouldn’t get through to her, video might, Matteo thought. He quietly rolled off the bed, found a tripod, took the Canon out of his bag, and set it up for video, facing the bed.

Guido was still half asleep when Matteo slid his lips down the man’s cock and started giving him head. The truck driver’s attention was fully focused on the sweet lay he’d worked so hard on getting into bed. Matteo saddled himself on top of the man, sliding down Guido’s stiff pole, first taking the man in his lady part and then switching to his anal channel, palming the man’s bulging pecs, and beginning the dance of the cowboy-position fuck. Guido was so involved in the fuck that he didn’t notice the camera memorializing the action.

It got even better in serving Matteo’s purpose. Half way through the fuck, Guido wanted to assert control. He turned them so that Matteo was on his back, legs bent, feet on the surface of the mattress, and Guido was kneeling between the boy’s thighs. Matteo made to roll away from Guido and the man slapped him, hard, across the face, making Matteo collapse backward.

“Stenditi, prendilo pussy ragazzo—Lay there. Take it pussy boy,” Guido growled. “lo vuoi—You want it.”

What happened then could be taken by viewing only that section of the action as Guido just taking what he wanted no matter what Matteo wanted. Matteo could splice the video later to show what happened just as he wanted to.

Guido grabbed Matteo’s ankles, painful wishboned the boy’s legs, pressed his pelvis into Matteo’s, penetrated, and began to vigorously fuck the boy. Matteo raised his arms over his head and grasped the brass rungs of the headboard. He turned his face toward the camera, giving an “Look, Madre, your fidanzato—boyfriend—is raping me” look and turning his head back the other way in a “and you’re doing nothing to save me” expression, enjoyed the completion of the fuck.

Guido, fully satisfied, and happy that the fourteen-year-old boy was adjusting so well to being his boy, drifted off to sleep again when they’d both shot their loads. He was asleep when Matteo slipped out of bed, showered and dressed, returned the Canon to his duffel bag, and left the flat to take the bus north to Varese.

Matteo was awakened by the unmistakable sounds of the grunts and groans of vigorous sex. He had arrived in the early afternoon, not at the youth camp near Milan he’d told his mother he was going to, but at his father’s remote biker’s theme camp on a remote shore of Lake Varese in the foothills of the northern Italian mountains. His mother had done everything she could to pull him away from his father who now ran this Tom of Finland-themed camp, and Matteo’s father had complied in the face of being criminally charged if he didn’t, but Matteo had a mind of his own in this regard.

Salvidor had been happy to see his son, but he could also see that the boy was exhausted from his sexual workout by and escape from his mother’s boyfriend, Guido, the bus trip north, and the hitchhiking into the camp.

“Yes, I know Guido,” he said. “He is so big and muscular. I know you could not have fought him off. And he has such a big cock. Did he hurt you? Can what you have now manage a man his size?”

Salvidor was a big-cocked man too. Matteo wasn’t sure if he asked that question because of Guido or from his own curiosity. In either case, Matteo didn’t directly answer. “He’s my mother’s boyfriend. It isn’t fair to her,” he said.

Salvidor then said they’d talk later about what Matteo had to say about the boyfriend and took Matteo to a loft in one of the camp’s dormitories to rest. Matteo had been wrung up enough to almost immediately go to sleep.

We woke to the sound of two of the biker campers going at it on a bed in the dormitory below his loft. Seeing that they were engaged in rough bondage sex, he took his Canon 2000D out of his duffel bag and, coming close to the edge of the loft, filmed the sex scene from between the floor and the lower rung of the railing. The men below had no idea he was there.

Both bikers were following the theme of the camp. They were both naked other than black leather chest harnesses and black leather boots nearly reaching their knees. Both were burly bears, heavy but more from bulging muscles than fat. But both, like the drawings of Tom of Finland men, tapered down from massive chests to narrow waists and had bubble butts and massively muscular thighs and calves. One was face down on the bed, spread-eagled, with his wrists restrained at the corners of the headboard and his ankles at the corners of the footboard. The other biker, bullet-headed bald, was saddled on the bottom’s pelvis. The spread-eagled biker had a head of wavy, reddish hair, which the man on top was grasping with the fingers of one hand and beating the bottom’s head against the mattress, while he rode the man’s ass in a high-bouncing penetration while slapping the bottom’s bulbous bare buttocks with the other hand, riding the bottom like they were in a rodeo. They were both crying out—the man on the top like a cowboy rodeo star and the man on the bottom in pain-pleasure like a bucking horse.

Matteo filmed the performance to its ejaculative completion and then withdrew into the shadows of the loft while the two men cooled down, unentangled, left the bed, and went about whatever business they had in the camp.

The boy napped again, savoring what he had seen, looking forward to learn more of what was on offer at the camp, and feeling quite ready to become part of it. He was just a boy, and certainly not looking to strutting around the camp roleplaying like a Tom of Finland character, but he was highly aroused by the thought of being used by Tom of Finland characters. He dozed off thinking of his father, who had met him at the camp office in Tom of Finland mode. His father was a muscled-up biker just like the men he was running this camp for. He’d been holding a hand whip, with leather strips, which he was flicking against the sides of his calf-high black leather boots when he came to the door to meet Matteo, and the memories had jolted the boy’s mind.

They had been jolted again as they had passed a scene in the woods of two bikers—maybe the same ones Matteo recorded in the dormitory later—where one, naked save for his chest harness, boots, and a black leather captain’s hat was suspended, standing, between two trees, his arms extended and restrained, while another biker, similarly costumed, except with a black leather jock strap, spit open, with his erection hanging out, and the freely moving biker was whipping the bound one with a hand whip identical to the one Matteo’s father was carrying. The bound man’s magnificent erection and passionate cries indicated he did not mind being bound and whipped.

Salvidor assured Matteo as they walked to the dormitory that the two bikers were indulging willingly in the services offered at the camp.