Ancient Passions (Ancient Passions Series # 1)

by Summers, Roxanne

  But Basilio wasn’t through fucking yet. When my moans had subsided, he lifted me off his lap and turned to deal with Rosalinda, spread her legs wide on the grass and squatting down so he could insert himself into her soaked pussy. I was so electrified by what Anastasia had done to me, I wanted to try it myself, so I flung myself down next to them and grabbed Basilio's prick and swiped it gently along Rosalinda’s pink pleasure-flesh, then snuggled closer and lifted it into my mouth as I flicked her clit with my forefinger. But before I let Basilio sink into her, I lowered my head and ran my tongue along her pussy lips and tasted her, and I liked it and dropped my mouth completely over that sweet gash and wiggled my face all around, licking and sucking every part of it, all the while stroking that big cock waiting just inches away. When I put it back in position and let him shove it into her I stayed right there, wiggling my tongue all over her swollen clit (my own fingers plunged deep into my pussy!) and cradled Basilio's slapping balls in my other hand. Both Rosalina and Anastasia’s cries filled the air, especially Anastasia, who had a great view of Basilio's muscular ass thrusting into Rosalina as I squeezed his slapping balls, and she was coming now, crying, “Ah, Vengo, vengo!” and as Basilio kept pumping relentlessly into the full-breasted Rosalina, I heard my Antonio and his playmate’s exertions subside and then heard them shuffling from the river and knew he was coming for me, knew he had seen my creamy ass lazing on the grass and knew he wanted to plant his cock in me and shoot his sperm deep in my pussy. I raised myself halfway up on my knees and tilted my ass upwards so I was an easy target. The first thing I felt was a woman’s hands though, Anastasia softly squeezing my ass-cheeks and pulling them apart, then her fingers gently stroking my moist sex, now her lips at the base of my spine, drifting lower, tickling my asshole with her tongue. I’d certainly never experienced that before! It felt good, though I felt pretty shy about it. Now came the sensation I longed for, Antonio's big prick poking at my love-cave. I felt her guiding it in as he rested his hands on my ass. God, it felt so good to have my husband, my true lover back inside me. But Anastasia was still there, her wet tongue licking all over my ass and then down to my asshole again. Now she pushed her tongue deeper into it, pulling out and pushing in in regular strokes that alternated with those of Antonio. Cock in, tongue out, cock in, tongue out, until my pussy and my asshole were both tingling like crazy, and then she pushed two little fingers into my bum and wiggled them around as she licked my ass and I went into the most overwhelming orgasm I’d ever felt, electric flashes that soared up my spine to the top of my head, and I forgot about Antonio’s cock and moved up to embrace Rosalina and cover her face with kisses, plunging my tongue, still laced with her sex juices, into her mouth, pressing my face into her swelling breasts and sucking helplessly on her sweet breasts and she came again as I did and Antonio and Basilio both shot their loads into us, groaning with pleasure. Then Anastasia took Antonio cock into her mouth, and when he pulled it out of Rosalinda’s pussy, I took Antonio’s into mine and we drained the last sweet drops of come seeping from their weary, pulsing cock-heads.

  It was getting late in the afternoon by then, but the day was still warm and I felt overwhelmed by the urge to sleep again. Antonio took me by the hand and pulled me over to him and we collapsed into each others’ arms, oblivious of anything or anyone. I could smell the other women on him, but it didn’t matter, somehow it felt like that Bob Dylan song, “It’s All Good,” and we rolled back under the tree where we had started out and fell asleep holding hands.

  Sure enough, when the first mild chill of evening awoke us, our playmates had disappeared.

  It was that night in the hotel, remembering everything this time, that I finally began to feel seriously paranoid, suspecting I had been drawn into a pre-planned adventure, an erotic conspiracy of some sort. I had snapped out of strange dreams around 3am, my heart pounding in my breast. Who was this guy Antonio? Was he some modern brigand, a trafficker in female flesh who step-by-step was leading me into a life of sexual enslavement? How could two such bizarre erotic encounters occur in quick succession? In the morning, I tried to confront him as we sat on our balcony overlooking the Via Veneto, enjoying the breakfast that had been delivered to our room, cornettos, fresh pineapple, sweet Italian sausages and the obligatory cappuccinos. We ate in silence, until suddenly I burst out at him.

  “Shit, Antonio! What's going on,? How can this have happened to us? Is this some kind of plan of yours? Who are you really? Are trying to…”

  “Stop, Gabrielle, no, no, stop it, my darling! There is not plan. How I can arrange this thing? It is impossible. I am confused like you. OK! Let us go home now! I am afraid I lose your love.”

  “But we can’t just leave.”

  “Why not? I don’t need other woman. I don’t need crazy scene. You are my every thing. I also don’t know why those people come to us. We go home!”

  “But the whole reason for our trip was for my research – oh Antonio, don’t look at me like that, of course it’s our honeymoon too! But I can’t very well skip Greece. We have to go on.”

  “But don’t say I am playing trick! I’m sorry about yesterday, I started touching you under the tree. I should take you away quick, not watching those lovers.”

  “Well, we were both fascinated. I mean, they were amazing. I don’t…oh, Antonio! Part of me doesn’t regret a moment of it.” We stared into each others’ eyes for several seconds, until a twinkle in his eye – or was it in mine? – set us both laughing.

  “Oh, what an afternoon that was, my darling,” I whispered. In that instant, my mood shifted and another “me” sprang up, and all the erotic images I’d been suppressing welled up in my head. A wave of desire swept through my body, and he sensed it, rose from his seat and came to me. He took my head tenderly in his hands and bent to kiss me, long and passionately. By the time our kiss broke, I had his pulsing rod in my hand, hard and straining beneath his bathrobe. My gaze left his eyes and swept downwards. I brushed the bathrobe aside and quickly lowered my mouth onto his beautiful cock.

  Chapter 3

  Greece: Slippery When Wet

  The beaches of Kalamaki have no smooth sand as on Maui or even in San Francisco. Rough grey pebbles line the shore, but it’s Greece, after all, and the crystal waters are no less beautiful. Kalamaki lies just south of the Isthmus of Corinth, on the placid Gulf of Argolis. We had driven the forty miles west from Athens, and by the time we reached our well appointed hotel, the last rays of the sun were fading from the sky. I had come to visit the famed Acrocorinth, the largest acropolis, or mountain citadel in Greece. This giant fist of rock had held a mosque, before that a Christian monastery, and in ancient times a temple to Aphrodite.

  In all honesty, I wasn’t sure why I had chosen this area over the more romantic Greek islands. No, that’s not true. It was the fear that my lying to S.F. State’s Ancient Cultures Department would be discovered. My current project was a paper on the goddess Demeter, and there was a small sanctuary dedicated to her on the lower slopes of the Acrocorinth. I could always make something up about Demeter – she was the goddess whose smile melted the winter snows and awoke the primal forces of spring and new growth.

  But in the back of my mind I wondered what new surprises lay in store for me here as, the next morning, we lazed aside the big pool that overlooked the cerulean sea. There were only a few other guests, and no one at the pool that early. We hadn’t made love the night before, but now, lying next to me on his deck recliner, Antonio was lazily stroking my bare tummy with one or two fingers as we lay on our backs. That’s all he needed to do to turn me on, his touch was so electrifying. I looked down at his tight swim trunks.

  “You’re turning me on, but it looks like you don’t care that much.” As soon as I said that I saw the bulge start to grow.

  “OK, that’s enough for now, darling,” I sighed. “We have a drive ahead of us. It’s only ten in the morning.”

  “Where is this place you talk about?”

  “W
hat?”

  “I mean, where we are going now?”

  “Oh, the Acrocorinth. It’s a beautiful rocky mountain about 500 meters high. Old castle walls, you’ll like it. But there’s a sanctuary to the goddess Demeter nearby. I’ve written some things about it.”

  “OK, we go. I can drive the car?”

  “Sure.” We changed our clothes and 30 minutes later we were driving north on the coast road. Quickly crossing the isthmus, the road hooked up to the modern freeway into Corinth. The Acrocorinth is just south of the city of 60,000 souls, and we were at the foot of it in less than an hour. My map showed where the ruins of the small Demeter temple were and they didn’t amount to much. We got out and stood inspecting the archaeological site. A hot Peloponnesian sun burned down on us. Around us were olive tree groves, a few cows, a small herd of sheep. I wondered why the hell I’d come. Well, the old castle walls would be interesting, they lay another mile up the road. We got back in the car and followed the road around to the western slopes of the mountain and stopped in the tourist parking area. It took half an hour of steady climbing up the ancient and medieval stairs to reach the parapets of the old ruined castle. From that eyrie all Corinth lay below us and the Peloponnesian Sea beyond. The day was crystal clear and a strong wind whipped our spare clothes.

  “On days like this,” came a voice behind us in broken English, “you can hear the voices of the old ones.” We turned to see an old woman in black – where had she come from? She was missing a few teeth and her hair was very white. I felt a chill run down my spine. As she held us in her gaze, her smile was unnerving. But Antonio seemed unfazed.

  “The old ones? Who are old ones?”

  “Why, Aphrodite and her…her friends,” she laughed. It sounded more like a cough. The woman seemed quite fragile. She turned and walked toward the steps we had just ascended. I watched her disappear around the first of the winding bends, as thoughts of Aphrodite and Demeter and her famous daughter Persephone swirled through my mind. Something stirred me in the sound of the wind. I considered the sudden passions of the Greek gods. The arrow Eros shot that had ensnared the heart of Hades as he passed nearby Persephone, gathering flowers in a meadow. How he dragged her down, down into the underworld, into his home…

  “Gabrielle…Gabrielle, look at me…you are OK?” Antonio’s words seemed to snap me back to reality. How long had I been standing there in silence? It could only have been a few seconds, but it seemed longer.

  “Let’s go” I snapped. “I feel funny here.”

  “Of course, darling. Let’s go. I wonder if the old woman is having trouble, its a long way down.” So Antonio and I descended the steep, uneven stairway. But we saw no sign of her along the way.

  “What we shall do tonight?” I asked Antonio.

  “Ah, I have seen flyer at our hotel for Club Casino Loutraki. It is very near here.”

  “But we’re not dressed for a place like that.” Antonio leaned closer to me, pulling my waist closer.

  “Let’s go shopping then!”

  “And with whose money?” Smitten as I was, I was filled with guilt when I saw his face fall in shame at his poverty. “Oh, baby, I was only joking! I…”

  “No, I deserve that. I forget who I am with you. I am only a gigolo.”

  “Don’t say that! Never say it again! You’re my sweet husband! Someday you’ll be the one paying for stuff. I’m so sorry, that was awful of me to say.” He still looked downcast, so I grabbed the rich black clump of hair over the back of his neck and pulled his head toward my open lips and plunged my tongue into his mouth, found his, and lashed and sucked it until he enveloped me in his arms and finally, as our kiss continued, his hands moved to my breast. Finally we broke away, gazing adoringly into each others’ eyes.

  From farther out on the beach came the sound of two pairs of hands applauding. We turned to see two astonishing figures near the water, a man and a woman, both completely naked, the blonde woman’s tawny breasts perfectly formed, the comely, dark-bearded man’s robust chest covered with hair. I could see his resting cock clearly and her delicate shapely bush, as all the while they smiled at us and waved in the friendliest way.

  “Here’s to love,” the man shouted in a Greek accented English, “and freedom!”

  We smiled back, but my stomach had gone topsy-turvy at first, as if I was falling backward into the sexual abyss of the previous week. As the couple moved sensually on down the beach, I wondered what the odds were to run into such a pair right here in the city. I thought the nude beaches were elsewhere, on Crete or Mykonos. Antonio and I looked back at each other and quickly got up, gathered our things and made for the car.

  The rest of the afternoon we spent shopping. I spent more than I should have, but it was such fun turning Antonio into a Mediterranean playboy, and I loved the hungry looks I got from him as I modeled various low-cut clingy things made for an evening on the town. Soon enough, afternoon gave way to evening. Rather than dine at the sure-to-be-expensive Loutraki Hotel, we found a less pricy family restaurant and devoured a fantastic Moussaka, whose superbly seasoned three layers included sautéed eggplant, ground lamb with tomatoes, and a browned egg custard. Our Caesar salad was laced with chunks of feta cheese, and dessert was a perfect almond pistachio baklava with a strong Greek mocha coffee. And all through the meal we shared our bottle of a fragrant, amber Retsina wine from the vineyards of Attica.

  Reinvigorated, we made for the casino, beginning with glasses of the aromatic Greek aperitif, ouzo. The lavish bar overlooked a huge playland with three different swimming pools and beyond them, the sea. They were potent enough so that after two I was laughing uproariously at Antonio’s description of the old woman in black that morning.

  Then I turned to my right and got a shock. Out of nowhere, there sat the girl from the beach and her swarthy man seated next to her, both of them fully dressed, smiling broadly and looking like a million dollars.

  “Oh, but I know you!” I burbled.

  “Yes, you know us very well, I would say,” laughed the man, his eyes sparkling. “Where are you from, California?”

  “How did you guess that?”

  “Your voice – it’s California style. We see lots of them here. Los Angeles?”

  “No, San Francisco. And my husband is from…”

  “Ecuador!”

  “No…”

  “Argentina!” the woman interjected.

  “That’s amazing.”

  “In this case,” she smiled, “it was instinct.” She leveled her gaze at Antonio. “I’m Ambrosia! This is Petros.”

  “I’m Antonio. Charmed. My wife, Gabrielle.”

  “Are you from Corinth?” I asked her, leaning forward deliberately to block her view of him.

  “Well…” she looked at me with a slight touch of disappointment. “No, we’re just stopping over for tonight. We sail for Mykonos tomorrow morning.”

  “On a cruise ship?” I asked, walking straight into her boyfriend’s drop dead response.

  “Well, yes...” He paused. “Mine.”

  “Ohhh…” was all I could muster.

  “And you two must let us give you a quick tour!” burst out Ambrosia. “There’s lots to eat and drink aboard. This place is sort of dead tonight. Won’t you?”

  I felt a chill run down my back. “Oh, thank you, but we wouldn’t want to intrude…”

  “On the contrary,” said Petros, “we don’t give such invitations lightly. I sense something special about you two. A woman of your charm and style, Gabrielle, would grace our ship with your presence.”

  “Oh my, what swashbuckling!” I said.

  “Oh, Petros loves to unbuckle his swash, and he always knows when to do it,” put in Ambrosia, giggling suggestively. “Antonio, how about you?” My face reddened at her aggressiveness. Antonio looked confused.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Please explain, just where is Petros’ swash?” Hearing this, I couldn’t help joining the other couple’s laughter. I sipped my ou
zo and felt it trickle warmly down my throat. “Don’t worry about his swash, Antonio. Just keep yours buckled.”