Here’s the entirety of a story called Twink on Top: Evil Eye! It’s part of the series, which is full of hardcore dubious-consent or non-consent gay erotica in which the twinks climb on top! You can read all of the stories for $0.99 (each) with the coupon codes! That includes Roidrage, The Drunkard at the Saloon, Prison Policy, Cuckold’s Revenge and more!
Emanuele was about to start putting makeup on for his show tonight when the sound of a brouhaha outside drew his attention. He didn’t want to be bothered by whatever it was — almost certainly a girl having lost her virginity, which was what the local townsfolk had been most concerned about for a long time.
That concern did not extend to Emanuele. He did not like girls, not in that sense, though he did play one on stage. At the moment, he dressed in nothing more than plain white (or off-white, now) britches, but before the show started, he’d wear one of his stunning diaphanous dresses to look like the graceful and elegant woman he had always wished he were. His slender upper body glistened with the cream he had just finished rubbing into it.
He hurried to the front of his home to see what was happening. When he flung open the door, he saw a man and a woman standing there. They were about to knock on the door when he opened it.
The man was naked, awkwardly bent over so the woman could grip the thick mop of black hair on his head. She held on tight and he flailed, trying to use his hands to cover his bare crotch. Emanuele felt a surge of desire — that was Bruno, the sexiest man in the village. He had had an irrepressible crush on Bruno ever since spying him swimming in the river with his friends, all of them naked. He had hidden in a tree and watched their dicks flop, muscles flexing as they roughhoused in the water.
But that had been from a distance, not right up front. Now he was here in front of Emanuele’s door — stark naked — and he was about a million times sexier. Emanuele’s knees went weak just looking at him.
He had a perfectly flat belly with a beefy chest, all of it covered in fine black hairs. He was young, just barely eighteen, so his skin was smooth and the chest hair wasn’t quite a dense tangle of coarse fur yet; it was still silken and it ended at his shoulders. His dick was slightly visible through the gaps between his fingers, which made Emanuele’s mouth drool. Bruno had a square jaw with a few day’s grizzle on it, and a broad nose, with deep dimples that were apparent now, while he winced in pain while the old woman pulled on his hair.
“Tell him!” the old woman barked. Emanuele recognized her now — Anita Riullo, Bruno’s aunt. She was a perpetually angry spinster who was active in the church and led the women’s group there. She was a fierce defender of female chastity, presumably, Emanuele suspected, because she was too bitter, old, wrinkled and nasty to get any kind of man. Her purity was unravageable.
“Hi, uh… Emanuele,” Bruno said; his voice was pinched and tense. He winced as the woman pulled on his hair. In order to let her grip his hair, he had to stoop down low. His muscles were flexed, like he really wanted to just push her away, but of course, he couldn’t push a woman, especially an old woman who was related to him. He cleared his throat nervously. “Uh… I, I gotta ask-“
“Oh, this is taking forever,” Anita snapped. She pushed him into the house past Emanuele, letting go of his hair. He tripped and landed on the floor. “My good for nothing nephew has put another fine feminine soul at risk, Emanuele!”
“Signorina, you are upset, I can see that. Let me make you a cup of coffee-“
“I do not want any coffee. If it were only him, I could ignore it. Su vergüenza sería únicamente su propia!,” she put her hands on her hips. “But he has brought shame upon this entire family. He has been consorting with… Well, I shouldn’t say her name. I will not bring shame upon her family as well. Di lei nome deve essere un segreto…”
“Hush,” she said. “This girl is from a good family, Emanuele. She has been plundered, ruined, by him! That alone would be bad enough. Jeopardizing souls like it meant nothing to him! He goes to church every week and then spends his days, and his nights, with loose female flesh, the donne troia.”
“Zia Anita, come on…” He stood now, right behind Emanuele, so close that Emanuele could feel his body heat and could sense his limp, low-hanging dick just centimeters from Emanuele’s own back. He had to resist the urge to start sucking on it right now in front of his dear Zia Anita.
“But that is not all. He threatens to ruin our family in this life as well as the next,” she said. Then she made the sign of the cross over her ample bosom. Gesticulating wildly, she continued, “He has plundered a girl whose grandmother knows well the olden ways! She has cursed the entire family with her evil eye! She has worst malocchio in the village, this I know well…” Tears escaped down her chin. “You cannot escape her curse!”
At first, Emanuele assumed something else was coming. Villagers here were always talking about the evil eye (malocchio), but no one took it very seriously, did they? Of course, some people did, and Emanuele knew the elderly church-folk like Anita were precisely the type who cared. Anita looked like she was about to faint.
“Signorina, I am very sorry to hear that. But I do not know about witchcraft,” Emanuele said. “I would not know how to undo the evil eye.”
“You do not need to know how. So come. I have consulted with Padre Ricardi, and I have consulted with my grandmother’s notes. I spoke with the matriarch who placed the malocchio in the first place,” she said. She shook her head and bit her lip. “I can not speak it. You must lay with the boy, as though… with a girl, as though he were a girl. You must plunder him, make him feel the shame and filthiness that that poor girl must be feeling.”
Bruno burst in with a nervous smile. “I don’t think that’s how she feels, Aunt Anita. We’re in love. I was going to propose matrimonio to her-“
“She will never marry you! She is a high-class woman! She will not marry a man with broad shoulders, callused fingers and sporco sotto le unghie!” Anita said, throwing her hands in the air. She glared at Emanuele. “Will you do this? You are the only man in the village who would enjoy undoing this particular curse.”
Emanuele stammered over himself. Logically, he wanted to say no; he was a bit offended that she assumed he’d want to, but on the other hand, Bruno was the sexiest man in the village, maybe in the whole country. Emanuele did want to do it, even if he thought the reason for it was nonsensical. “Signorina, I… I will do it.”
“Oh, wonderful! You may make it hurt,” she said with a cruel glint in her eye. She glared at her nephew. “Egli deve soffrire molto…”
“Wait, Zia Anita, what are you talking about?” He put his hands on his hips. “He can’t treat me like a girl. I don’t have una micio-“ His eyes went wide and he gasped, like he only just figured out what his aunt intended. He again covered his crotch with both hands. “Zia Anita! I can’t submit to that!”
“The curse upon you is great, mio nipote! It can only be undone this way,” she said. It sounded like she was near tears, like she was consigning her nephew to certain death.
It sounded like Bruno was in a similar place, and he also sniffed back tears. He trembled and shook as Emanuele closed the door — it was obvious they could keep wailing like this all afternoon, so he just needed to shut the door and move things along. Emanuele was excited to get started.
“Please… isn’t there any other way?” he asked, partially aiming the question at Emanuele and partially aimed out the door.
“Your curse has already harmed this family! Tua cugina Valentina was stricken today with consumption!”
“Really? Dio mio!” Bruno turned to face Emanuele before the door finally slammed shut. Tears welled up in his eyes as he ran his fingers through his thick black hair, which now was a messy tangle since his aunt had dragged him here using his hair as a handle. He blushed and stepped away from Emanuele, hands still covering his crotch.
That seemed doubtful to Emanuele, but Anita confirmed it through the door. It took time for consumption to appear and for it to be confirmed to be that and not a similar illness. It was entirely too early in the day for Aunt Anita to have heard confirmation that it was consumption, assuming the illness began after Bruno was caught with the girl. But Emanuele didn’t want to point this out, and besides that, he had long ago learned that the superstitious mind would always find a way to rationalize it — Bruno had presumably intended to bed the girl before it actually happened, for example, so perhaps the curse reached backwards in time to cause punishment when the sin was planned but not yet executed. Perhaps Valentina would have quickly recovered if Bruno had decided not to take the girl’s virginity.
Bruno was pale now. He kept his hands over his crotch and his muscles rippled as anxiety flowed through him. He had been to see Emanuele’s show at least once, and he had reacted like any other male — aroused but ashamed of it because he knew that Emanuele was a man dressed like a woman. Now though, Emanuele was dressed as a man; there was no way to pretend he was a real girl.
“Get on your knees, Bruno,” Emanuele said. His voice was flat and firm. “Your soul is going to learn a very difficult lesson today.”
Bruno sunk to his knees as Emanuele dropped his britches. He pulled his dick out and gave it a few strokes. It was already half-hard, so it quickly swelled to full erection in front of Bruno’s trembling, tear-streaked face.
“Open your mouth,” Emanuele said. When Bruno hesitated, Emanuele used both hands to force his lips apart. He enjoyed touching Bruno’s handsome face, which was even still beautiful still, despite being streaked with tears, his confident charm replaced by choked terror.
He pushed his dick in and Bruno gagged loudly. He sputtered and choked with just the tip of Emanuele’s dick on his tongue. But he didn’t pull away or try to leave, he just submitted even as his body rejected Emanuele’s shaft.
“Good! Make him choke! Everyone come listen to my nephew’s shame!”
Emanuele blushed almost as red as Bruno — Emanuele normally liked to keep a low profile. The men of this village did not much enjoy girlie-men like Emanuele, so the more attention he attracted, the more danger he was in. Emanuele could never forgive himself if he didn’t take full advantage of the situation he was in though, so he didn’t slow down. If he was exiled as a result, he thought, he could find a new town that needed a feminine dancer. He could even move to Rome if he needed to.
Bruno choked up so much spit it made Emanuele giggle. He had never seen someone produce so much saliva while sucking dick — it seemed he tried not to swallow any of the moisture in his mouth, like it was contaminated with cock, so he wanted to spit it out. But Emanuele didn’t remove his dick, so Bruno couldn’t close his mouth, which meant he couldn’t actually spit; he could only drool and drip saliva from his lips.
There were more people around now. Emanuele could hear them gather at the front of his house. Women muttered among themselves, variously either laughing at Bruno’s superstition or silently praying to protect themselves from the malocchio as well. Men jeered and laughed, muttering insults as they scattered around the house looking for open windows (which they wouldn’t find because Emanuele had always kept his curtains closed). No matter how much the men didn’t want to watch a girlie-man like Emanuele go at it, they all wanted to see Bruno’s humiliation, no doubt in part because Bruno was so handsome he was the object of affection for every woman in the village.
The pleasure in his cock was intense, and made it hard for Emanuele to focus on being serious. He giggled at Bruno’s frenzied sputtering, and the puddle of saliva that formed on the floor. His dick throbbed in Bruno’s throat, swelling to fit in and forcing the big Italian macho to gasp for air when Emanuele backed out just enough to allow it.
Emanuele eventually pulled away, not wanting to finish in Bruno’s mouth. He had bigger plans. Bruno sputtered and gagged profusely, spitting over and over onto the floor as though trying to get every drop out. Emanuele moved behind Bruno and rammed a finger in his ass even before Bruno realized what was going on.
“Oh, dio mio!” he shouted. “Che fa male come l’inferno!” A torrent of laughter arose from outside, and Bruno blushed. He bit his lip. His ass clenched hard on Emanuele’s finger.
Emanuele giggled. Every time he moved his finger even a bit, it sent waves of agony through Bruno’s muscles. Bruno hung his head as he settled on all fours — the only position that made this fingerfucking easy for him, since he was massively taller than Emanuele — and arched his back. The muscles of his back rippled, and he gripped the ground as though trying to rip the floorboards up.
Hooking his finger to one side or the other made Bruno grunt. He hyperventilated, his entire body stiff and tense as he focused on relaxing the only muscle that counted. Emanuele rammed his finger in and out, enjoying the spongy feel of the man’s body.
“Go over to the window,” Emanuele said.
Bruno hesitated but did as he was told when Emanuele used his finger in Bruno’s ass to point the way. Bruno crawled with difficulty across the floor. It took what seemed like a long time to get there, but Emanuele wasn’t sure — time always seemed to pass slower during sex. Bruno gasped and twisted his head as he suppressed the agony in his trembling ass.
“Poke your head out the window,” Emanuele said. Bruno hesitated again, and Emanuele repeated himself. “Put your head out the window. You are supposed to experience all the shame and humiliation that poor girl felt. That means people must see what happens to you. If not, the malocchio will surely haunt your family for generations to come.”
He gritted his teeth and pushed his head out past the curtain. Outside, his face was on the side of the building, so no one noticed right away. Emanuele’s house was built on a hill, which meant Bruno’s face was high in the air compared to the folks on the ground outside.
The people out front didn’t notice his head until Emanuele lined his dick up with Bruno’s ass. It had just a bit of hair, the perfect amount, Emanuele thought, for a man’s ass. It was enough to be clear that it was a man’s ass and not a woman’s, but it didn’t have the dense thicket of smelly hair that Emanuele mostly associated with sailors, soldiers and Greeks.
To put his face out the window, Bruno had to crouch rather than remain on all fours. That put his ass much too high for Emanuele to effectively penetrate. He got a short stool and stood on that, which made it much easier.
When he slammed his dick in, Bruno let out a screeching yelp. That was what attracted the attention of the crowd. Bruno’s legs straightened and his back arched, but Emanuele tapped his back until he got the message — he had to crouch in order for Emanuele to reach him.
“Che è troppo grande per un uomo femminile!” Bruno grunted and groaned, turning bright-red as the crowd moved to the side of the building. They were throwing rotten fruit at him now, and every time they got a direct hit on Bruno’s face, they all cheered and clapped.
Ignoring the resistance he felt, Emanuele fucked hard and slow. He enjoyed the long grinding motions as he pushed into Bruno’s ass, and he sighed with satisfaction every time he let his dick lower almost all the way out of it.
The pleasure was unbelievably intense for Emanuele, who had never felt anything quite like it. He had penetrated only a few men, all of them feminine girlie-men like him. Those occasions had been nothing compared to the fleshy, meaty feel of Bruno’s muscles tightening underneath him, the masculine hair of his ass or the macho grunting as he tried to pretend he wasn’t in agonizing pain. Emanuele laid atop him, grinding his dick in, making certain to hit every corner of Bruno’s sensitive insides.
“Feliciana!” Bruno shouted.
The front door opened, and a pretty black-haired girl marched in, pushing past Anita. She slammed the door shut behind herself. That must be Feliciana, and, Emanuele assumed, it must be the girl whose honor Bruno had to make up for plundering. She was pretty, but with an arrogant, upper-class look to her face.
She squealed in shock at the sight. Bruno brought his fruit-dripping head back in the building and exclaimed back at her, grunting too hard to form words as his movement reawakened the agony in his backside. He nearly collapsed to the ground at her feet. The sensation was too intense for Emanuele to stop now, so he continued humping Bruno’s ass as he writhed in pain and humiliation at his girlfriend’s feet.
“Bruno!” she shouted. “You are… what are you doing?! Che è disgustoso!”
“I’m doing this for you, my cara Feliciana,” he said.
“I never asked you to do this!”
“Your grandmother… She put a curse on me. Malocchio,” he said. Tears twinkled in his eyes. Emanuele groaned. He allowed Bruno to angle his body to face the girl, but Emanuele was relentless on his ass. He didn’t even slow down as Bruno’s body tightened with the shame overcoming him.
“So, you do this for a curse?” she asked.
He nodded. “I must do it. But we can still be together afterwards! Possiamo sposarci…”
Feliciana thought for a long time. She cocked her head to the side and chuckled. “No… Bruno… You were very sweet to me, and you have such a handsome face… But you are from a poor family,” she said. “And now… you are not a real man. Si hanno meno di un uomo…”
“You have been sodomizzato…” she said with a giggle. She smiled at Emanuele. “You are letting a small man inside you. That is… I can not respect you after this. I must marry a man who acts like a real man.”
“Close your mouth. A real man would rather submit to a curse than that,” she said. She shook her head in disappointment, then walked out the door. When the front door was briefly open, Anita’s voice filtered in, her braying laughter filling the house for a moment before the door slammed shut again. Bruno sobbed into the floor.
Anita’s voice was audible from outside. “You do not much like him anymore, do you? Good. Tell no one about this, girl.”
It seemed that the crowd was focused on chanting on the side of the house where Bruno’s face had been seen through the window, so none of them realized why Feliciana had gone inside. Her virtue, it seemed, was intact in the eyes of the villagefolk.
Bruno had straightened his back partially when talking to Feliciana, so Emanuele was clutching his muscles, trying to hang on — when they both stood plainly, Emanuele’s face was even with Bruno’s upper back, which mean that the straighter Bruno stood, the less Emanuele could easily penetrate his ass.
But he refused to take his dick out, even as Bruno’s massive body quaked and trembled with the power of his sobbing. Emanuele had to claw at the man’s skin for support, and he used his feet to grip Bruno’s hairy thighs.
Finally Bruno seemed to realize that he had to change his positioning if this was going to ever end. He dropped to all fours, and Emanuele at last had some leverage again. He pounded away at Bruno’s ass.
Since he had been fucking him for awhile, Bruno’s hole was loosened and opened now. Emanuele could easily drill his dick in and out. A loud thwacking sound came with every thrust of Emanuele’s hips.
When Bruno wiped tears off his face, Emanuele felt a twinge of pity. He reached around to Bruno’s dick and gave it a stroke. It was already hard, but it must have been close to finishing despite his despair, because Emanuele could already feel the orgasmic energy collecting and roiling in the shaft.
As though he hadn’t been aware of the intensely pleasurable feelings in his dick until Emanuele touched it, Bruno’s weeping turned into a momentary moan of bliss. Precum leaked profusely from his cockshaft and coated Emanuele’s fingers.
“You can come see me anytime, Bruno,” Emanuele said softly. He repeated it, but Bruno didn’t acknowledge it, whether because he didn’t want to admit he might allow this to happen again or because he genuinely didn’t hear it, Emanuele didn’t know which.
Then at last Emanuele felt his own orgasm overwhelm him. He grunted and nibbled on Bruno’s smooth back as it happened, and pleasure rolled up and down his spine. Bruno gasped at the sensation even before the first drops of cum filled him up; his back muscles rippled beneath Emanuele’s lolling tongue.
Cum sprayed inside Bruno, a torrent of male juices that coated the inside of Bruno’s body. It felt like an incredible amount of cum, more than Emanuele had ever shot before. Bruno gulped and moaned, making an ear-shattering sound.
Anita must have been listening at the door, because she called out when Bruno made a noise. “Good! Is that it! That’s how you made that poor innocent girl feel, Bruno! Not so proudful anymore, are you!?”
Emanuele had to suppress a giggle at Bruno, who wept again at that reminder. The crowd cheered and shouted. But Bruno’s sadness was short-lived — he reached his own orgasm moments later in Emanuele’s hand.
It was a painful orgasm, Emanuele could tell that from the way Bruno sucked on his teeth and bit his lip, asshole clenching on Emanuele’s limp dick. But there was also an intense pleasure behind it, which Emanuele sensed in the rippling of his back muscles and the exhausted tenor of his grunting.
Emanuele had to strain to reach all the way around Bruno’s body to jack him off, but he did that now with his second hand as well. He scooped up all of the cum as it sprayed from Bruno’s uncut cock.
A part of Emanuele wanted nothing more than to eat the cum off his own palm, but he could do that with nearly any of the men who came to see him. Today, Emanuele wanted to do something different.
“Give me your mouth,” Emanuele said, and Bruno did as he was told. He winced painfully as he turned his head with Emanuele’s limp dick still throbbing in his ass. He opened his mouth and closed his eyes.
It was apparent that Bruno thought Emanuele wanted to kiss him again, but instead Emanuele tipped his hand full of cum right into Bruno’s mouth.
Bruno gagged and choked on the snotty texture and sour-sweet flavor. His asshole clenched down again as though trying to rip Emanuele’s dick off. That sent a second wave of orgasmic pleasure up Emanuele’s body. He gasped as Bruno moaned in pain.
While he smeared the remnants of cum from his hand onto Bruno’s face, Emanuele let his dick flop out slowly. It made a moist popping sound when it finally came out. Bruno collapsed into a sweaty heap on the floor, sniffling and holding back tears.
Emanuele sat down next to him and clucked his tongue. He massaged the thick black hair of Bruno’s head. “There, there,” he said. “It’s over now. The curse is lifted. Malocchio è andato…”
Bruno sniffled. “She was right, I am less than a man. No girl will ever marry me now.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true,” Emanuele said. “Besides, even if it is, you can always go to America, or to England or France, or just Rome. No one there will know.”
“I will know.”
“Or you can stay here. You can come visit me whenever you need a girl… I normally don’t do any of this, y’know.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can… treat me like a girl. That is more normal. When you don’t have a curse to remove, that is what I would expect. You can come here and hump my ass, my face — every part of my body is yours.”
“Really. It feels like a girl, or so everyone tells me,” Emanuele said. He patted Bruno on the ass and giggled when Bruno winced in pain. “Now come on. Hold your head high. You did what you needed to do for your family. The reason those men out there are teasing you is because they are jealous. Their wives would give anything to be your wife instead of theirs.”
He smiled behind his tears and crawled to his feet. The agony was evident, but he shook it out and took a few tentative steps before wincing in pain again. “Can I wait in here for a few minutes?”
Emanuele motioned for him to sit down on the couch, which he did, and Emanuele curled up next to his muscular arms. When Bruno found that sitting on his ass was too painful, he slid down to laying on his side. Emanuele sat there in the crook of his chest, massaging his muscles.
“Of course, baby,” Emanuele said. “You can wait here as long as you need. I’ll take care of you.”