Kenton stood on the terrace of the rental vacation villa and watched Georgiou enter the taxi on the street down the steep incline at the base of the complex. The bullet-headed bald, yet otherwise hirsute, Greek with the physique of a wrestler didn’t turn to wave back. He just folded himself in the taxi and was gone from Kenton’s life.
Kenton hadn’t really expected more–but he had hoped. As gruff and all-business matter-of-fact as Georgiou had been, he’d filled the void in Kenton’s life since Kenton’s long-time lover, James Fendall, had chosen to die and leave Kenton in the lurch. The death had been unexpected. James had been the decision-maker, the doer, the businessman who knew how to get everything done and who wasn’t afraid of the telephone as the younger writer, Kenton, had been.
Kenton had held his own financially–his novels sold well–but he hadn’t had a clue what to do with the money–how to translate it into goods and services to support himself. James had provided all of that, including the domination and guidance in bed.
When James had had the terminal heart attack, Kenton was suddenly left on his own. There would be a considerable inheritance, but he wouldn’t be able to touch it for a year or more as it went through probate. That wasn’t a real problem. Kenton had money of his own. The real problem was how he was going to take care of himself. James’ estate was large enough that his lawyer took interest in it and in Kenton. Knowing the relationship and preferences of the couple, and knowing that Kenton was a novelist, the lawyer had not only suggested that Kenton retreat to the quietude and simpler life of some Greek island for the fall, so that he could get his life reoriented, but he also volunteered to connect Kenton with an LGBT travel agency that would handle all of the arrangements, including a guide to handle everything right up to the door of the rental villa–and to handle the client, as requested.
“Knowing how you are about decisions, I asked that your guide be a power top,” the lawyer had said, without blinking an eye.
Kenton had been leery of making such a big change, but one night after returning from James’ internment in New Orleans to the penthouse Philadelphia apartment that he and James had shared was enough to tell Kenton he couldn’t just continue here on his own. He found he had no idea how the heating or air conditioning system worked or even how to answer the main telephone console before it reverted to voicemail. It only then dawned on him how much James had taken care of, leaving Kenton to live in his own fantasy world as he spun out his mid-market gay male romance novels.
The lawyer accompanied Kenton to New York to meet with the travel agency. Kenton had remained skeptical and a bit spaced out on everything until that evening when they met for drinks with the prospective personal guide in Kenton’s New York hotel.
“This is what we do. I will take care of everything,” the guide had said, laying out documents on the cocktail table in the hotel bar. Georgiou was a muscular man in his late forties–probably five years or so older than Kenton was, who was built well enough himself, but along much trimmer lines than the guide, obviously a native Greek, was. Georgiou was definitely the take-charge, self-assured man. The way he’d put his hand on Kenton’s arm, or back, as they moved to the alcove in the bar showed aggression and assertion. Kenton couldn’t help but feel a comfort with this man that he hadn’t felt since James died. But beyond the basic comfort there was a slight nervousness at the assertiveness of the man. James had been much smoother and had put more effort into manipulating Kenton while not making Kenton feel how dependent he was. Of course, when James died, Kenton instantaneously learned how dependent he’d been–or slowly had become–all those years the two had been together.
“I have a cock of twenty centimeters and three and a half centimeters in girth,” Georgiou had told Kenton matter-of-factly, “and I can penetrate hard again in ten or fifteen minutes, depending on how attractive I find the man.”
Kenton had nearly choked on the olive in his martini. He’d never known a man as direct as this. It all seemed just to be business information to Georgiou. And centimeters always made a man sound like a superman.
“You will stay in this villa on Mykonos, a Greek island not far south of Athens, for three months,” Georgiou said, showing Kenton the brochure for a line of two-story stucco houses with terraces on a rocky mountainside. There was a swimming pool on a terrace below, and then, shown in other photos, a steep, rocky slope down to the cruise ship docks and a shoreline that snaked around the base of the mountains and the C-shaped Mykonos harbor. The town and villas perched above on the mountainside were mostly of brilliant–white stucco, with ochre- and natural rock-walled ones blended in. It was a scene of cleanliness, sunshine, and relaxation, punctuated with bougainvillea, hibiscus, and oleander. “It’s the best of Greece. I come from there myself. You are a beautiful man; you will find men there very soon who will service you. If you don’t, we will provide a stallion for you.”
There was no choice. This was the statement of where he would stay. And the agency would provide for his sexual needs, if necessary. Kenton felt comfortable with this, whereas most probably expected more input. The lawyer had done well in describing his client and his needs.
“We will fly to Athens, I will give you three-days of tour there and will bed you every night, and then a Greek cruise boat to Mykonos. Just one night cruising. Nothing fancy in a boat, but sufficient. The hotel in Athens, of course, will have a good view of the Acropolis. Five days and you will be there. I will take just carryon, so you have double baggage allowance for your three-month stay in Mykonos. Three months later I come for you, we fly to Rome for tour there, and then back to New York. I take care of everything. And I sleep in your bed and service you two times a day by contract, unless you request less.”
“I don’t know,” Kenton said, looking at the lawyer a little dubiously.
“I take good care of you,” Georgiou interjected himself into whatever the lawyer might say. “Need your passport to do documentation. I do it all. I service you expertly–in all ways.”
Kenton hesitated, looking at the lawyer, who was giving him encouraging, “just go with the flow,” looks.
“Give to me your room key,” Georgiou said, assertively, holding out a beefy hand, the reverse side of the palm covered with curly black hair shot through with gray. “We go to your room for your passport now, yes? I take good care of you. I service you now. I fuck you good.”
Kenton glanced over at the lawyer, who smiled and parroted the Greek. “Go with Georgiou. He will take good care of you. I will talk with you in the morning. Say the breakfast bar at 9:15?”
Georgiou propelled Kenton to the elevators and then down the corridor to the hotel room with a beefy hand at the small of Kenton’s back. Georgiou had the room key card, maintaining complete control. Kenton felt himself falling into a comfort zone. Someone else was making all of the decisions.
Inside the hotel room, Georgiou said, “I take care of you now. I handle everything for you on trip. Take off your clothes now. I fuck you good now.” And when Kenton was slow getting to that, Georgiou reached over and started pawing his clothes open. Kenton stepped away from him, and stripped himself, as, standing close to him, close enough for both of them to know that the Greek was in full control, Georgiou quickly stripped down as well.
Kenton sucked in his breath. The Greek was magnificently built. He had a great, muscular, hirsute wrestler’s body for a man his age–and he was hung and in half erection. He grabbed Kenton’s biceps on both sides and held the younger man at a stretch, looking his naked body up and down. Kenton could only look at the Greek’s cock, which was elevating into an erection.
“You have beautiful body,” the Greek said. “A dancer? A model? I could reload for penetration hard in ten minutes or less for a body like this.”
“A novelist,” Kenton answered nonsensically, his voice came out in a squeak of arousal. “But, yes, I was a male model when I was younger.”
“Handsome face. Good body. Nice cock. I fuck you good. Under thirty?”
“Thirty-six, actually,” Kenton said. But he was flattered.
“No matter. I forty-eight, but no worry. I eat my olive oil. I fuck like a younger man. You sign for trip, I fuck you two, three times a night, more than contract says. I stay hard good. Turn around and hold your cheeks open, please. I want to see the hole.” And then, when Kenton complied. “Ah, I fill that good.”
Kenton could readily see that the man had no trouble getting hard–and thick.
“I fuck you good. I take good care of you. It’s easier when the man has beautiful body, like you. Go down on your knees and suck me now. Then I fuck you good. I take good care of you. You will be well-fucked all the way to Mykonos. No worry about that.”
Kenton was on his knees at the end of the bed, with Georgiou covering him close from above. Georgiou was grunting, one arm wrapped around Kenton’s chest, two lube-slathered fingers of his other hand working Kenton’s anal entrance hard. Kenton, forehead to mattress, was groaning from the probing of the fingers. Once Georgiou had gotten him into the room and started giving directions, it hadn’t occurred to Kenton to object or question. James had always controlled what was going to happen. Kenton had been the total submissive with James. He just slipped into the same subservient role with Georgiou, even though Georgiou was rougher. Somehow the cruder, more demanding manner made him more submissive.
“You take big cock, yes? Lawyer tell travel company you like big cock. My cock big. Very, very big.”
“Yes, I like big cock,” Kenton admitted with a whimper, as a third finger entered his ass. What hadn’t the lawyer told them? And how did the lawyer know James had a big cock? Just how close had James and his lawyer been? And there was no questioning that this Greek muscleman had a big cock–an extra thick one. What did three and a half centimeters work out to in inches anyway? Something thick, for sure.
What perhaps the lawyer didn’t know was that it wasn’t always just James’ big cock Kenton took. Kenton was unbelievably elastic that way, and what James sometimes gave him–and what he missed the most–was an extra man in the bed–and inside Kenton. But it wasn’t something Kenton felt he could talk about with anyone now. It had been James’ and his secret. He wasn’t likely to experience anything like that again, he didn’t suppose.
“They call on Georgiou for you because Georgiou has extra big cock; twenty centimeters long and three and a half centimeters thick,” the Greek said, his voice full of pride. “I take good care of you. No other travel company take care of you like Georgiou take care of you.” He was taking good care of Kenton now, fingering him forcefully.
“Oh, god, oh, god, I think I’m going to come.”
“You not come yet,” Georgiou directed, and the voice of authority was recognized and accepted by Kenton’s ball sac, although it was aching for release. Kenton hadn’t been fucked since before James died. It had him on edge.
He moaned. “I need to–”
“I fuck you now,” Georgiou said, ignoring any need Kenton might want to express, pulling his fingers out, and turning Kenton to a seated position on the bed. He had a Trojan Magnum condom packet in his hand. “You must put rubber on as agreeing you want fucked. Company policy.”
With trembling hands, Kenton crowned Georgiou, who then turned him back to his knees on the bed and slowly penetrated him while Kenton huffed and moaned. When fully saddled, Georgiou grabbed Kenton’s biceps and, wham, wham, started stroking him hard and deep, as Kenton groaned and moaned under him. Half way to Georgiou’s ejaculation, the Greek reached around Kenton’s belly with a hand, grasped Kenton’s cock, and jacked him off.
Afterward, as Kenton lay on the bed and watched Georgiou get dressed, He asked. “Do you need anything else other than my passport? Shall I get that for you?”
“Don’t need anything now,” Georgiou said. “You can hand documents in at travel office when you sign papers for the trip.” And then he was gone. In the end it had all been rather perfunctory and businesslike–as was the eventual five-day trip from New York to Mykonos. But Kenton couldn’t say that Georgiou didn’t take good care of him in sexual terms–at least in numbers of ejaculations–and in terms of those twenty and three-and-a half centimeters.
But there had been no affection in any of the servicing. Thus Kenton had no reason to be surprised–and wasn’t–that Georgiou just got in the taxi at the Mykonos villa rental at the end of the trip without even a look back.
As the taxi pulled away, Kenton’s eyes lateralled to the complex swimming pool two levels lower on the mountainside, where a young Greek god in a blue Speedo was skimming the pool. He had to be in his mid twenties–tall, lithe, but well-muscled, black curly hair, pouty lips. He was gorgeous and knew he was. His forearms, thighs, and pecs were lightly dusted with black curly hair. As he skimmed the pool, he was looking back up to the terraces of the line of small villas, each with an eight-foot, bougainvillea-covered pergola outside the terrace doors. Kenton fancied the young man was looking directly at him, as if checking out the latest arrival at the complex.
Georgiou’s “you will find your own man soon enough” prediction went through Kenton’s mind. Kenton had always gone with older men, but maybe it was time to change that.
“A beautiful young man. Alas, his and my preferences are the same.” The voice was a deep baritone. Kenton turned his face to the terrace of the neighboring villa. An older man, perhaps in his late fifties, was sitting on a rough-wood, thatched-bottom village chair, a beer bottle in one hand and a cigar in the other, and was moving his gaze from the pool below to his new neighbor at the side. “His name is Panos. He works maintenance here at the vacation villas in the morning and has a charter boat down in the harbor in the afternoon and evening. He goes for 200 euros for the night.”
“He takes people out in the sea at night?” Kenton asked. He took a closer look at the man who had addressed him. He’d had a physically demanding life. He was probably shorter than Kenton and a bit grizzled, but compact, muscular but lean. His face was craggy, but full of character, his hair was wavy, dominated by gray, but once had been black, and curly black hair peeked out of the neckline of his T-shirt.
The man arched his head back and produced a hearty laugh. “No. That’s for sleeping with him–being fucked by him, two or three times in the night, if you can take it. He’s a male prostitute. He has a very nice cock. Not as nice as mine, of course, but quite presentable, and he knows how to use it, I’m told. Probably a very interesting experience, although he and I like the same thing. I think he might not be for you, though. I heard that man who just left talking to you. He lays you, doesn’t he? You must like older men than you.”
Kenton didn’t know what to say to such a forward statement, so he simply said, “He was the guide who brought me here for the company who rented this villa for me for the season. We came from Athens–well, from New York, actually.” Kenton thought of the overnight sail from Athens in the creaking Greek cruise boat that was all small portholes, no balconies. They were in a suite, so Kenton could only feel sorry for those in the regular cabins. But it had only been for one night–and Kenton indeed had lain under Georgiou three times in the night, his legs wide spread and bent, Georgiou lying between them and deep inside him and moving for what seemed to be forever, so there was little to think or complain about concerning the amenities of the Greek ferry.
“I’m sorry if I have seemed too forward,” the man said. “but I think it’s best to know who does what, who is looking for what, here. It saves time. I’m sure you know that these villas are for gay men–and that much fucking goes on here. So, that much really is not much of an assumption. My name is Santos. I am here for the fall season.”
No, Kenton hadn’t known that the villas were exclusively for gay men. He should have known, of course, considering that that was what the company that arranged it specialized in. “My name is Kenton, although you can call me Ken. And I am here for the fall season too.”
“You are a beautiful man, but you look sad. Was that your lover leaving you just now?”
“No, that was the guide who brought me here,” Kenton repeated. “I had a long-time lover who died and I am here to recover from that.”
“But the man who just left. He was your lover too, I think.”
“Only for the days traveling here from New York.”
“But he covered you, no? You submitted to him. I think I am right about that.”
“Yes, you are right about that,” Kenton said, a tone of slight resignation in his voice. The man was going to chip away at him until his soul was naked. He somehow was sure of that.
“And what is the sexual attraction of this man, this guide of yours?”
“He has a cock twenty centimeters long and three and a half thick.” Kenton meant it to be a flippant answer, to embarrass the man from talking of such intimacies, but the man laughed and bored in with his questions.
“A good answer. A very good answer. And you must have it often, I think, big like that. And missed it when your lover died.”
“I missed it, of course,” Kenton answered. “But this man who just left, he was just part of the travel service.”
“And he walks with the assurance of a hung man. I believe the measurements you give. Your lost lover–he was hung too, I think?”
“Yes, both of them hung like bulls.” Kenton felt the layers of his privacy being stripped away. The older man–he must be Greek, as Santos was a Greek name and he had all of the physical characteristics of a Greek man–was stripping him bare. But he came across as a dominant, self-assured man. And Kenton so easily slipped into a subservient role.
“Once a man is hung, that never changes. And a good lover improves with age and experience. I, for instance, am hung like this bull you speak of, and I have considerable experience. We Greeks–it is because we eat pure olive oil, I’m told–we are still great lovers at an old age–sometimes better when old, more experienced and in tune with what the men lying under us want and need. You are a beautiful man. I would like–”
“My life is changing so much now,” Kenton broke in. “I’m not sure what I want anymore. I need some time . . .”
“But, of course. I don’t want to seem too forward. Most men come to these villas looking for companionship. For immediate sex. But I am here for the season and you are too. So there is time. When you want me to fuck you, you will come to me.”
That’s not how my psyche works, Kenton thought. Men take me; I don’t pursue them. They tell me to lie down and open my legs for them and I do. Would he do that for this forward, self-assured man if he demanded it here and now? Probably, he thought.
Santos stubbed his cigar out in an ashtray on a side table, put the empty beer bottle down, and stood. “There is, of course, a young stud like Panos down there. He’s looked up here several times, so he has noticed you now. Remember, 200 euros for a coupling with Panos. And then there is experience–for free.” He gave a low whistle, which prompted Kenton to look around to him. His fly was open and his cock was exposed. He was hung and in half erection. “As you can see, more than twenty centimeters. I can give you more than your guide gave you.”
Kenton shuddered and looked away.
“Whenever you want it, it is here for you,” Santos said, as he pushed the cock back inside his shorts and zipped up. He turned and went back into his villa.
Kenton turned toward the rail of the terrace, his eyes taking in the stretch of the harbor. The clutch of buildings down at the town center; the scattering of white, ochre, and stone buildings on the sides of the encircling mountains; the translucent blue-green of the water; and the ships–the balconied cruise ship just at the dock below the line of gay-resort villas and the Greek ferry slowly moving out of the harbor, taking Georgiou back to Athens. His eyes then came back up the hillside to the pool below. Panos was standing there, looking up at him.
I wonder how many centimeters, he thought. Then he shuddered, pulled away from the rail and walked back into the villa. It was a self-contained unit. They had stopped on the way up the hill and Georgiou had bought him enough provisions for a week. The kitchen was at the other end of the unit from the sea. It was separated from the dining and living room section by a counter. A metal circular staircase went up to the second floor, which had a small bedroom, with a single bed, above the kitchen; a bathroom; and, on the sea side of the building, a master bedroom opening out to a balcony above the pergola over the terrace below.
Standing in the living room and looking down at his unopened luggage, Kenton thought, Now what? He already felt alone and lost–and not having any idea what to do next.
He took one of the suitcases upstairs to the master bedroom and placed it on the floor. He was drawn to the balcony and once there, he realized that he had come out to look at Panos again down at the pool. But no one was at the pool when he looked toward it.
Disappointed, he came back into the bedroom and then down the stairs to retrieve the other suitcase. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, though, he heard a knock on the door. He opened it to a smiling Panos.
“Hello. My name is Panos. I help with what needs to be done here. You are new, I think. Are there any services you are needing?”
Involuntarily, by instinct, Kenton drew out his wallet and extracted a 200-euro note and lifted it for Panos to see. Panos laughed, smiled broadly, put a hand on Kenton’s sternum to move him back from the door so that the young Greek could enter, and pulled a condom disk from the waistband of his Speedo.
Despite the 200 euros, Kenton had to do most of the work at the beginning. Panos lay on his back on the master bed, his wrists locked behind his neck, and grinning up at Kenton, as, facing Panos’ head and riding his pelvis, Kenton fucked himself on Panos’ very nice cock. After Kenton had ejaculated on the young Greek’s chest, though, Panos began earning his fee. He pushed Kenton over to the side and then onto his back. Standing by the bed, he pulled the condom off, grabbed Kenton’s head by the hair, and brought Kenton’s mouth to his cock, almost brutally face fucking Kenton and creaming his face.
“You got beer?” he asked almost immediately after coming.
“Downstairs, in the refrigerator,” Kenton answered, meekly, running the back of his hand over his face to wipe away Panos’ cum.
“Stay here. I give you a special for the first time. No more charge.”
Kenton watched the lithe, dancer’s body move gracefully down the stairs. The young man’s cock was nice, but it wasn’t anything close to the size of James’ or Georgiou’s, or, for that matter, what Santos from next door had shown him. Still his body was young and hard. Kenton had always gone with older men. There was something exciting and different–and a bit dangerous–about this young man. Kenton had never been with a male prostitute before–young or old. What wasn’t different was Panos’ self-assurance. All he need do was tell Kenton what he wanted, and Kenton likely would do it.
Thus, when Panos came back with a length of nylon rope he’d found somewhere downstairs and started tying Kenton’s wrists together and then pulling his arms over his head and tying his wrists to the headboard, Kenton only looked on with wide-open eyes. He’d never been bound and fucked before.
He was now, though. Royally fucked.
Panos stuffed pillows under the small of his back to raise and turn up his hips, rolled the condom back on that he’d used earlier, grabbed and wishboned Kenton’s ankles, and pushed his knees under Kenton’s buttocks. He cupped Kenton’s face in his hands, staring hard into Kenton’s eyes. Kenton panted, feeling the bulb of the cock resting just inside his rim. Panos patted him on the cheeks, moving his face back and forth and then, coming in for a French kiss, plunged his cock deep into Kenton’s channel, as Kenton tried desperately, and unsuccessfully to break the kiss so he could scream. Panos fucked him hard and long.
After he was done, Panos slipped on his Speedo and, while untying Kenton’s wrists, declared, “You are a good fuck. I charter a boat down in the harbor. I take you out sometime and fuck you good and proper on the sea where no one can hear us. Try it; you’ll like it. For you, only 100 euros.”
At the head of the stairs, he looked back and said, “Welcome to Mykonos.”
Yes, welcome to Mykonos, Kenton thought when Panos was gone. He immediately felt the loneliness sweep in again. This was the wildest fuck he’d ever had. But Panos had suggested he could do wilder. Was this what Kenton was looking for?
* * * *
Kenton came slamming out onto the terrace late the next morning wrapped in a robe and fuming. Santos already was out on his terrace, this time with a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting on the side table beside him. He was only wearing shorts and sandals.
“Kalimera,” Santos said in a pleasant voice, not showing whether or not he saw the mood Kenton was in.
“Excuse me?” Kenton said, turning toward the neighboring terrace. He hadn’t seen Santos sitting there when he’d come out. He ratcheted his ire down. He was taken aback by seeing the older man bare chested. He was deeply tanned and in quite good muscular shape. The salt and pepper hair on his pecs was profuse and tapered down his belly.
“Kalimera is good morning in Greek,” Santos said. “It will be helpful for you in the village if you learn a few Greek phrases. They won’t expect much. This is a tourist town, so almost everyone speaks English, but they will appreciate the gesture. I’ll be happy to teach you some phrases–perhaps while we are making love, while I am inside you.”
Ignoring the last part, Kenton said, “Kali . . .” but couldn’t go any further.
“Kalimera,” Santos patiently repeated.
“Kalimera,” Kenton repeated.
“Very good. But you seem upset this morning. I would have thought you felt quite satisfied after yesterday afternoon.”
“Pardon?”
“The walls. They aren’t too thick in these villas. And you make considerable noise when having sex. Panos is good at bringing out passion in a man, isn’t he? I can bring out passion in a man too–maybe better than Panos can.”
“Ah,” Kenton said. So that’s why Panos had said they could go out on the sea to make love–that they could go where there was no one to hear them.
“So, was Panos good for you? You seemed nervous yesterday–like you needed a man inside you. I was quite willing to help you with that. I’m still willing. Perhaps you can come into my villa now, and–”
“Yes, Panos was very good,” Kenton answered, too exasperated to try to deflect the bluntness and openness of Santos’ conversation.
Keying on this, Santos continued, “Something seems wrong this morning with you, though. I heard you curse a few times in the night. I hope you don’t have the traveler’s curse.”
“No, no sickness,” Kenton said.
“Good, because it’s no good fucking a man who has the shits.”
Once again Kenton let this baldness pass. On some level he found it arousing, though. And now that he’d seen both Santos’ cock and his bare chest, Kenton was finding this bold, crude bantering welcome. Somehow it was more honest than he was used to get during the mating dance in the States.
“It’s the lights in my villa over here. They won’t come on. I kept looking for some way to turn them on. I guess I’ll have to try to track Panos down this morning. He said he was the maintenance man here in the mornings.”
“And perhaps spend another 200 euros on him?” Santos said, with some amusement in his voice.
“Perhaps,” Kenton said, beginning to fall in with Santos’ conversation style.
“Do you like young cock? Is he not too vigorous for you?”
“I usually go with older men. He’s different. A little hard to keep up with, yes. But I suppose I’m here for the adventure.”
“Older men like me have more experience. I would bring you with me. We would peak at the same moment. I can peak a man again and again until his balls ache and he begs for release. Have you ever had your balls ache and enjoyed it? Ah, no, probably not. But I could do that for you. I would take good care of you. I could give you three climaxes in quick succession too, if you wish. Make your balls ache for want of it and then bam, bam, bam. Cum everywhere. We would need a mop.”
Kenton felt himself warming to the innuendo. But it wasn’t really innuendo. It was more explicit than that. The “I would take good care of you” was just what Georgiou had said, and in many ways he had, indeed, taken good care of Kenton. From the way Santos talked, though, Kenton thought that perhaps Santos would give him more attention in sex than Georgiou did and this was warming him up.
“I could show you the magic of the lights in your villa,” Santos said. “There is a secret to it. I could teach the secret to you.”
“You could? You will?”
“For a small price.”
“And what’s that?” Kenton said, now a bit amused and also a bit relieved. Perhaps there was something simple that needed to happen with the lights. Maybe he didn’t have to be as upset as he’d gotten in the evening and the night. Having something like that not work was a reminder of how dependent he’d been on James–and then, in several ways, on Georgiou while they were traveling.
“Tell me, do you sleep naked?”
“Yes, why?”
“Are you naked under that robe?”
Kenton didn’t answer right away, which was answer enough for Santos.
“Stand and open your robe and let me see your body and then I will show you the secret of the lights in your villa.”
“Oh, hell, why not?” Kenton said. He turned toward Santos and opened his robe.
“As I thought, a beautiful body. I could make music on that body. And you are aroused.”
Closing his robe again, Kenton said. “You are quite forward in your talk. That would probably arouse a statue. I don’t think it means anything today, though.”
“You don’t think? Or you know it doesn’t mean anything today?”
“It doesn’t mean anything today.”
“But perhaps some day?”
“Perhaps. But you were going to show me about the lights.”
“I can tell you, unless you wish me to come over there inside your house, where I can show you how to fix the lights and you can invite me upstairs, and, speaking of lights, I could fuck your lights out.”
“The lights. The secret of the lights. If you can tell me from here, that would be best.” Kenton was smiling, though. He had already decided that he would try this man out someday–not today, though. His thoughts went to the size of the man’s cock. More than twenty centimeters apparently. How much more? How many centimeters was James? What’s eight and a half inches in centimeters?
Panos had worn him out, but it was more from the athletic positions, being bound, and the vigorous thrusts than for where he could reach, what he could stretch.
“Just inside the entrance to your villa, on the wall by the kitchen, there is a box. I don’t think they shot home the breaker for you that connects the lights to the electricity. They turn that off when the villa isn’t occupied.”
Kenton went in and threw the switch, and, sure enough, the lights came on. He thought it only polite then to return to the terrace and thank Santos for the help.
“That’s too bad,” Santos responded.
“How so?”
“If you truly had a light problem, you could have come to my bed tonight. I don’t have a light problem.”
“Then that opportunity has been lost,” Kenton said, with a laugh.
“Since I helped you, perhaps you can help me.”
“With what?”
“This bottle of wine. I’m told that it’s healthy for me to drink the wine, but not the whole bottle. That raises a conundrum. I need someone to help me drink this bottle of wine, and I just happen to have two glasses here.”
“You just happen to have two glasses,” Kenton repeated, still amused.
“Come over here and drink this wine with me. When we are done, I can put you on my lap and fuck you. Do you remember how big my dick is? I can tickle your tonsils with it inside you.”
“I’ll share the wine, but for today, I will sit over here on the other side of this fence and vine.”
“For today? So, perhaps on another day, I can put you on my lap and fuck you? You have a beautiful body. It needs to be used.”
“Perhaps on another day. Not today, though. Today, I have to go see the village.”
“And let Panos take you out in his boat and fuck you on the sea?”
“Perhaps.”
“For 100 euros? He offers a discount for those he likes.”
“Money is to serve one’s needs.”
“I will pay you 300 euros to let me bed you.” By now, Santos had filled a glass with wine and delivered it across the fence. Both men were at the rail and looking down into the Mykonos harbor.
“If I thought you were serious . . .”
“Of course I am serious.”
“You don’t look like a man who can waste money like that.”
Santos laughed. “Looks can be deceiving. I am a rich man. See that yacht down there in the marina? The largest one? Over toward this end. That is mine. These vacation villas–they are mine too. The villa you are renting is mine.”
Kenton didn’t really believe him. Santos was just playing him, he thought.
“Besides, I have seen your body now. I pay that much for the prostitutes down in the town and they don’t have the beautiful body you have or even the one I have. Look at me, Ken.”
Kenton turned his head again and gasped. Santos had stood and dropped his shorts. He was as naked as Kenton was under his robe. And this time his cock was in full, magnificent erection.
“Have you ever been fucked raw, Ken? I am checked regularly. I like to bareback fuck. I can bring you pleasures skin on skin that Panos never could. Don’t ever let Panos fuck you raw. He goes with whoever pays 200 euros. I am pickier than that–and checked each time I fuck a new man. I will pay you 400 euros to bareback fuck you. Just show me a doctor’s certificate.”
“Which couldn’t happen today,” Kenton answered with a shaky voice. He knew now that, yes, Santos would fuck him–someday–unless the man was just toying with him.
“No, not today. Today, we enjoy this bottle of wine. Then you say you wish to go down into the town. I will give you the address of my doctor. I will call ahead and make the arrangements for the check. No need to pay. You just need to let him taste you bareback too. We share, and when I send him a man for check that’s how I can be sure the man checks good–Doctor Mavrades must fuck him raw too. Mavrades willing to do that, I know test is valid. OK? You go to the doctor while you are in town?”
“Perhaps,” Kenton answered. He was so keyed up now, though, that he regretted that there would be a wait. He decided just not to take Santos seriously about giving the doctor privileges in exchange for a bill.
Santos saluted him with the last dregs of the wine in his glass. “You have me excited now. I must give myself relief.”
Kenton could see over the separating fence that Santos had his cock in hand and was stroking himself. If anything the cock was longer than it had seemed before.
“You wish to watch? Or this time I could use a rubber and service you. How about it? You come over the fence and onto my lap? From the noises you made with Panos, I know you are a passionate man who enjoys it.”
“Let’s leave it as a ‘perhaps later’ for now,” Kenton said in a shaky voice, as he struggled up from his chair and started backing into the house.
“Tell me before you retreat, Kenton. You are going to let me fuck you someday, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Santos, I’m going to let you fuck me someday.” He turned, entered his villa, and raced up the circular stairs to his bedroom, lay on his back, and jacked himself off.
He had no idea why “yes, someday” couldn’t have been a “yes now.”
* * * *
There was no more intent going for Kenton that afternoon when he descended the hill and walked into the harborside town of Mykonos–having the same name as the island–than to acclimate himself to what was there. He had the address of Dr. Mavrades tucked away in his wallet, but that whole scenario that Santos had spun for him–intending to bareback him and gaining assurance that the doctor had thoroughly check him for disease first by barebacking him himself after a clean bill of health–seemed quite outlandish. Santos was a funny little man, plying Kenton with sexual innuendo to the point of arousing interest in Kenton and then making demands on him that included being fucked by another man first.
It just wasn’t going to happen–at least in that way. He would let Santos fuck him–but with a condom–and he hoped to hell that he wasn’t disappointed that Santos’ cock couldn’t fuck him as well as the man’s tongue could. Could a man ejaculate just from lying on his back and listening to a man like Santos make love to him with his voice, Kenton wondered. It would be a good experiment.
Kenton wasn’t even thinking of the dangerous young man, Panos, when he walked down to the harbor and sat on a bench overlooking the marina, either. He had a sense that Panos was too wild and vigorous for him for an extended, deepening relationship. Conversely, he was a complete departure from what Kenton was accustomed to in a coupling. But Kenton couldn’t stop thinking about sex with him.
He was embarrassed by what Santos had said about the noise he had made while Panos was fucking him. He couldn’t doubt it–Panos had been rough and had provided no mercy when Kenton had begged for it–and the helplessness of being bound had pulled something out of Kenton that no other lover–certainly not James–had done. Being noisy in sex was something new for him–as was being fucked by a younger man.
The thought of what Panos had said about sailing him out to the sea and fucking him where there would be no inhibitions for Kenton to scream his head off if Panos pulled that reaction out of him caused Kenton to scan the marina for the possibility that Panos’ boat was there.
It was there and so was Panos, still only in a Speedo and looking oh so sexy. The younger man was scrubbing down his boat. Involuntarily, Kenton rose from his bench and walked out on the dock and to Panos’ boat.
“No business yet today?” he asked as he reached the boat.
Panos looked around at him and grinned. “Not until just now. You want a private sail? 50 euros for the boat and 100 euros for me.”
Kenton understood exactly what services Panos was quoting prices for. He felt his hand go to his wallet. He certainly had more than enough money, but he had no intention of availing himself of the services.
Panos came over to the side of the boat and reached a hand out. He still was grinning. “Let me help you aboard,” he said.
Kenton hesitated.
The smile faded a bit and Panos’ voice took on an edge of steel. “Come on board. I will take good care of you.”
Kenton meekly took Panos’ hand and stepped over the gunwale.
“Check out below and I will prepare to cast off,” Panos said, as he gestured to the cabin door leading down into the boat and moved toward the bow. “Strip down and have your legs open for me when I’m at sea and come down into the cabin.”
Kenton took in his breath when he had descended into the cabin. He found there a black leather sling that Panos no doubt would tell others was a hammock, but that Kenton, seeing the restraints attached to the four chains, knew would have another purpose. There was no explaining away the riding crop and extra-thick dildo that were laying on a nearby tabletop.
He shuddered. He just couldn’t do it. This wasn’t anything he was looking for. He was out of the cabin, back over the side of the gunwale, and half way back toward land on the dock before Panos had time to notice that he’d bailed out.
He walked the streets of Mykonos, fighting with himself and why he turned away from the adventure, being both drawn to and frightened by Panos. Why couldn’t he decide what he wanted? There was no real secret there, though, he knew. He hadn’t made a decision of his own–or done anything to take care of himself–for years. Could he just change as quickly as he would need to do for Panos? He sensed that Panos would drain him dry financially, just using him–and roughly so, without real respect or affection for him. How and when would a relationship like that end?
Panos’ version of taking care of him seemed so much like Georgiou’s was. Just using the aging American as long as he had money for it. When Santos said he would take care of him, Kenton got an entirely different impression. Santos had made no material demands. Indeed he claimed to be richer than Midas, which Kenton doubted, but in making such a claim he was signaling that he wanted nothing from Kenton except sex. And the only demand he’d made was shared proof that the two of them were clean, because Santos wanted to have the ultimate pleasure of raw sex with him. This Dr. Mavrades was supposed to show Santos’ documentation to Kenton at the same time as he established that Kenton was disease free.
Santos would be an adventure too, but an entirely different kind of one than Panos would be.
Kenton found that he had been blindly walking the streets and when he stopped and looked up, he saw the sign for Dr. Mavrades’ office just up the narrow street. He took that as a direction, as the sign of what he should do.
A female nurse was at the reception desk of the second-floor office, where three men were sitting in the waiting room, and as soon as Kenton announced his name to the receptionist, the nurse intervened.
“Yes, Mr. Kingston, we were told to expect you. Please come directly back with me. I will take the necessary samples and you may come back at 7:00 p.m. to consult with the doctor on the results–if that is convenient with you.”
It was real. Kenton had expected it all to be a joke. He wasn’t at all sure he would make that appointment, but he was here now so he at least would start the process.
He spent the early evening sitting at the harborside Babylon bar in the Paraportiani Waterfront area, a gay district that had figured high in the suggestion that he spend time on Mykonos, watching the sunset starting over the water, and half flirting with and half deflecting the attentions of fit and beautiful young Greek men interested in hooking up with a rich American, which Kenton registered as with anyone who saw him. At several points he had intended just one more glass of wine and then the climb back up to his villa, but when he finally found himself getting up from the café table, it was close on 7:00 p.m., and his feet took him back to Mavrades’ office. The flirting of the young men at the gay bar had put him in the mood to carry through with the last part of the examination.
The office was dimly lit and the receptionist was closing up as he arrived.
“I’m sorry. You’re closing?” Kenton asked. “Did I have the time wrong? I thought I was told 7:00.”
“No, it’s your appointed time, Mr. Kingston. The doctor is coming for you directly. You two will be alone in the office.” She gave Kenton a meaningful look, and he blushed, realizing that she knew why this appointment was set for the time the office closed.
And as she departed, Paul Mavrades was walking down the hall toward Kenton. He was wearing a weary, distracted look until he caught sight of Kenton and then he gave the American a smile. Kenton couldn’t help smiling back, the thought running through his mind that this might not be so bad. Mavrades was a tall, unusually handsome man with gray hair, mustache, and short beard. His eyes were a piercing blue, and Kenton got the impression that they lit up in unexpected pleasure when they were cast on Kenton for the first time. A little chill when down Kenton’s spine.
“Mr. Kingston? Welcome. Just come back to my surgery, and we will take care of this matter as quickly and professionally as possible. It is an unusual requirement, but Santos Cleridhis is an unusual man–and he is used to getting what he wants.”
For the first time Kenton contemplated that perhaps Santos was as well-heeled as he had claimed to be.
Ushering Kenton into a spacious office with a desk and a couple of club chairs off to the side and an examining table prominently located in the center of the room, Mavrades bade Kenton sit in one of the club chairs and then went over to the desk.
“The circumstance is unusual. Perhaps a bit of wine and conversation before we begin. Wine?”
“Yes, please.” It came out like Kenton had cotton in his mouth, so he cleared his throat and repeated the “Yes, please.”
After delivering the wine, Mavrades took three sheets of paper from the desk, returned to the chairs, sat down, and handed the papers to Kenton. Kenton had to set his wine down on a side table and hold the papers in two hands because he was trembling. Mavrades was wearing a long, white surgical coat, which gave the impression that that was all he was wearing. When he sat down, the gown tented out at the groin–alarmingly so. His eyes took on a dreamy look as he looked at Kenton.
“You know you are a bit of a surprise,” he said.
“How so?” Kenton asked. Once more having to clear his throat to get the answer out.
“You are a very handsome man. And you seem highly refined in character. Santos doesn’t usually pick his partners so carefully. That’s probably why he has them checked like this. You don’t seem the kind of man to get involved with this.”
“I’m surprised as well. I guess I’m footloose and searching. I recently lost a long-time lover to death.”
“Ah. An older man?”
“Yes. Considerably older. But the death was an unexpected one. He was in very good condition until the heart attack. He hadn’t been diagnosed with heart disease.”
“And you were satisfied with him. An older man.”
“Yes. I prefer older men.” Kenton blushed at that, realizing that the doctor was a good ten years older than he was.
“Because they aren’t so demanding?”
Kenton blushed again. “That wasn’t an issue. I need frequent attention and James was able to give that–and, being older, he was experienced.”
“Ah. And this perhaps is why you have agreed to lay under Santos–you are frustrated by the lack of attention–and you appreciate a man who is experienced? I ask, because Santos is quite direct and can be crude. We are the best of friends, understand, but I believe you must be quite frustrated for servicing to fall under his sway. As I said, I haven’t had a man as handsome and refined sent to me for this.”
“Yes I suppose that must be so,” Kenton said, looking away, unable to maintain eye contact with a piercing gaze that seemed to reach the quick of him. “Tell, me, Doctor,” Kenton said, suddenly turning, the question having just popped into his head. “Santos is quite a talker about his prowess. Do you have any idea–?”
“Yes, I am quite sure that Santos can deliver on everything he promises in sexual services,” the doctor said, giving Kenton a level stare.
“Uh, thank you,” Kenton answered, a chill going down his spine.
“Ah, yes, well. The good news is that you are disease free and so are Santos and I. You have the certificates there in your hand.”
“The good news? There is bad news?”
“Possibly. With Santos there is another element that I check out with the men he wishes to cover. Not all men are capable of handling him. Tell me, has he exposed himself to you?”
“Yes,” Kenton answered, blushing again.
“In erection?”
“At least partially so.”
“Do you have any discernment of the dimensions of his equipment? Can you manage twenty-four centimeters? Santos does not mine at a shallow depth. More than one man has had to come back here for treatment after being penetrated by Santos.”
“I believe so,” Kenton said, and then, warmed by the wine and aroused now by the doctor, he boldly continued, “My lover was unusually hung. I had come to expect to be filled and stretched. If you must know, I think this is what has drawn me to Santos. It was just playful banter from him until he exposed himself to me. I have grown to expect the size. To need it–to be challenged by more of it.”
It hit Kenton at that moment that this was the base reason Panos failed to fully satisfy–it wasn’t that he was young, perfunctory, and kinky. He wasn’t big enough to challenge Kenton’s channel.
Kenton’s eyes were drawn to the doctor’s groin. The tenting there now was much more pronounced.
“Well, I will check for that,” the doctor said. “It is one thing to say what you want and yet another to be able to accommodate someone like Santos without debilitating pain. We will proceed with the necessary examination. I will be clinical and as quick about it as possible. It will involve you taking a rubber member of Santos’ dimensions, with most of the examination time being taken by you adjusting to the size of it. Then I must, by Santos’ direction, penetrate you myself–without protection. That need not be long, to meet the requirements, or deep. I am not unusually thick, and though I could tax you with the depth I can reach, I can control myself. So, if you’ll stand and take off your clothes and go up on that examination table, we will take care of this as quickly as possible. For clinical purposes you will be restrained. I hope that isn’t a problem.”
“No, I guess not,” Kenton said as he stood and started to strip down. He felt a bit woozy as he stood. Obviously he’d drunk too much wine over the afternoon and evening. It was evident now that he’d been working up the courage to carry through with the doctor’s examination. Even though his head was hazy at the moment, he was quite clear of the understanding that he was willing to go through this because he craved having his channel filled and stretched again by a cock such as Santos’.
And what about the doctor’s cock?
“Will you have any trouble managing what you have to do?” he suddenly asked the doctor, as he briefs were being pushed down his legs.
“Do you think I’ll have trouble,” Mavrades asked in a hoarse voice as he unbuttoned his medical coat and Kenton gasped at the sight of the miles long–but not thick–cock in full erection and with a gold bead pierced into its head.
“If you are contemplating twenty-four centimeters, you should not be troubled by twenty-one.”
Kenton swallowed hard. He didn’t have an answer for that. But twenty-one would be more than Georgiou so proudly flaunted.
“The good news there is that, with Santos, as with me, it is mostly in length. If you can handle Santos’ length, you should be able to handle two men of his length and his girth at once. Tell, me, Mr. Kingston, have you ever had two men inside you at once.”
“Rarely,” Kenton answered, not wanting to pursue that further.
“Ah, so. How old are you?” Mavrades asked, seeing Kenton naked. “Your body is magnificent.”
“I’m thirty-six.”
“You have the body of a much younger man. It’s almost a crime for a face that handsome to crown a body that beautiful. I have never before envied my old friend Santos as I do now. Do you do sports?”
“Tennis, some squash, running, and I do lift weights. James wanted me to keep in shape.”
“I can only repeat deepest envy of Santos, and I can only ask again if you are willing to risk your body with Santos. I can assure you that if he told you he can–and will–ravage you, he can and will. Be sure to keep my card and to call if you need medical attention afterward. I will be very discreet and will come to you.”
* * * *
Kenton was groaning and gasping, strapped to the examination table, his feet in stirrups, his legs spread, his wrists attached to restraints on the side of table. The doctor was standing between his spread and raised legs, crouched over him, his lean chest covered in a down of gray hair mere inches from Kenton’s heaving chest. The doctor’s eyes were locked on Kenton’s for signs of distress, but Kenton could only give him the flare of pleasure, his mouth hanging slack, answering the doctor’s questions in breathy staccato replies of how well he was accommodating the Santos-sized dildo the doctor was working inside him.
The dildo was extracted. “You knew what you could take,” the doctor whispered. “You opened right up for it. Santos will be deeply pleased.”
“As will I,” Kenton admitted in a hoarse voice. “It’s more than I’ve taken before. It’s what I want.”
“You did well. And the examination is nearly over. Just a bit of penetration to validate to Santos that I declare you clean.”
“Oh, god, oh, god, the gold bead. It found my prostrate,” Kenton cried out. “Oh, no, please don’t stop.”
“If you wish, I can work that and make you come,” Mavrades whispered. “I don’t wish to impose, though. I can do it quickly, clinically, without deep penetration.”
“Oh, god, yes. Make me come. Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck. Yesss!” Kenton had already been keyed up. It took just a few strokes of the gold bead over his prostate to pull an ejaculation out of him. And when he had done so, to Mavrades’ surprise, Kenton raised his face to the doctor’s and took his lips into a deepening kiss. Breaking away from that, Kenton cried out, “Give it all to me, Doctor! Go deep! I want to take you too.”
“Are you sure? It’s not clinical.”
“Fuck me! Fuck me hard and deep!”
With a grunt from him and a groan from Kenton, Mavrades dove deep, then pulled back, and then dove deep again.
“Release me!” Kenton cried out, and Mavrades immediately released him from the wrist restraints. Kenton clutched the doctor’s shoulder blades, holding Mavrades’ chest hard against his and set his pelvis in a counterpistoning to the doctor’s strokes that had the doctor wildly fucking him to his ejaculation and a second one by Kenton.
Afterward, as they cooled down, Mavrades said, “will you be my guest for dinner? There’s an excellent meze restaurant just down the street, with a good view of the harbor.”
“And then will you bring me back here and fuck me again?”
“But of course, if that’s what you want. But we can go to my flat. It’s just above the office here.”
“Is that what you want, though?”
“But of course. Santos won’t mind. We share. In fact, I think we . . . you might . . . no, I won’t say it.”
* * * *
Back arched, taking his weight on his shoulder blades, feet flat on the mattress under his haunches to raise his pelvis just so, Kenton cried out at the depth Mavrades’ cock was reaching, as the doctor knelt between the American’s legs, hands grabbing Kenton’s knees, and grunting at the effort to bury his cock so that curly blond and gray pubic hair wove together.
Kenton had never experienced such a snake-like cock, dragging that gold bead across his undulating channel muscles until Kenton’s legs gave out and he went flat on the bed. Wrapping his legs around the small of the doctor’s back, he held them loosely there, going with the rhythm of Mavrades’ long slides out and in, raw skin sliding across shimmering channel walls, while Mavrades glued his forehead to Kenton’s, closely gauging the effect of his all-wall’s attention with his beaded cock, his eyes capturing Kenton’s. Pulling back to where he dug at Kenton’s prostate with the bead. Once twice, while Kenton writhed under him, mouth slack and blowing bubbles until Mavrades captured it in a deep kiss, until Kenton tore his mouth away and howled his ejaculation to the ceiling of Mavrades’ bedroom.
It was only much later that night when Kenton was staggering up the hill to his villa that he started to wonder if the disease check was as much a protective requirement of Santos’ as it was a means for the two old friends to share their men. Somehow, Kenton didn’t care if it was the latter.
* * * *
Kenton slept the sleep of the dead that night. When he woke, he put his robe on and went down to the kitchen to start the coffee. There was no water from the faucet in the kitchen. And none in the bathroom either. Once more he was reminded of how dependent he’d always been on someone else.
He went out on the terrace to look down at the pool to see if Panos was there to report the lack of water too.
“Kalimera,” came the chipper voice from across the fence between his villa and Santos’. “I would expect you to have coffee in your hand.”
“So would I,” Kenton asked.
“I happened to have a fresh pot here and an extra mug. Would you like a cup?”
“I’m dying for a cup of coffee. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for coffee at this moment,” Kenton answered.
“Not anything?” Santos asked, a mischievous look on his face. “No matter, though. Did you enjoy Paul yesterday? Have you ever been fucked by a hung man with a bead in his cock before?”
“Yes and no. I have the documentation in my house on the tests.”
“No need. Paul called me this morning. He enjoyed you immensely. You stayed with him for some time. He claims three ejaculations.”
As you perhaps planned? Kenton thought, but he didn’t say that. He moved on. “I came out to see if Panos was here. I have no water today.”
“You do need a man to take care of you, don’t you?”
“Yes, I surely do,” Kenton said, with a sigh.
“If I come over and get your water fixed, will you let me be a man for you today.”
“Yes,” Kenton said, in surrender. They had reached that point. “If you come over here and fix my water you can do whatever you wish with me.”
After Santos went under the kitchen sink and turned the water valve back on that he had come in earlier in the morning and turned off, he stood up, and swiveled to Kenton, who had been standing close behind him. His hands went to the sash around Kenton’s waist, which, when dealt with, caused the robe to flare open. Santos’ hands moved inside, and Kenton sighed and moan as Santos expertly worked his torso, cock, and balls with his hands, while their lips met and Santos backed Kenton into the dining room.
Kenton’s butt met the edge of the dining room table and he just laid back on that; spread his legs, hooking his ankles on Santos’ shoulders; and groaned as Santos spent considerable time getting his long cock inside Kenton’s passage.
“Oh, God, oh shit. You’re enormous, a snake,” Kenton whined.
“It’s what you want,” Santos said, simply.
“Yes, it’s what I want,” Kenton admitted. “Oh, shit. Oh fuck. Drill me deep. Yes. Yes! YES!”
There was some time of no talking as both men worked to get the maximum pleasure from the huge cock barebacking Kenton on the dining room table. Kenton grunted with the progress of each inch, each time assuming–wrongly–that it was the last inch Santos had to give. As Santos sank deeper into him, he instinctively gaped his mouth wide, expected the bulb of the cock to pop out there at any second. They managed to come almost together–or, rather, Santos, in his expertise managed to bring them off almost simultaneously.
“Best lay I’ve had for as long as I can remember,” Santos murmured after they’d come and he was laying his chest on top of Kenton’s. “You do like them big. You opened right to me. There is room for . . . well . . .”
“Take me upstairs. Fuck me into tomorrow,” Kenton murmured.
“Better yet, I’ll take you over to my villa,” Santos answered. “And perhaps later you can pack and move in with me over that. You need a man to take care of you obviously, and you bring out the youth in me in the fucking.”
“Now? Come over to your villa with you now?” Kenton asked. “You will fuck me again now, won’t you?”
“Yes, I will fuck you again now. We will take good care of you.”
We?
Kenton didn’t think about that until they had gotten to Santos’ bedroom. Paul Mavrades, naked, was waiting for them on Santos’ bed. He was sitting at the foot of the bed. He opened his arms to Kenton, and Kenton moved to him on the bed. The doctor was in full erection, and Kenton, without direction descended on his lap, facing him, and slowly descended on the doctor’s cock. In just a few moments, Santos was behind him, his hands gripping and spreading Kenton’s buttocks and rolling the buttocks up to him.
“Can you? Will you? Both of us? I know you can manage,” Santos was whispering in Kenton’s ear.
“Oh, God, yes,” Kenton murmured, now understanding just how fully Santos and Paul liked to share their men.
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