I saw Carlitos about two or three times a week after that, and I’d pay him between fifteen and twenty-five bucks a throw. I’d lick his muscles, lick his smelly armpits and suck his dick and balls. He’d work on my tits, I’d shoot my load and then he’d butt fuck me. He just shoved his cock right up my hole.
When I told him how much it hurt, he’d just laugh and he got off on it because it was like raping me. The last time I saw him, he let me suck his butthole. He squatted over my bobbing face, and I rimmed him for about ten minutes.
His sweet Mexican butthole was covered with all these sweaty little butt hairs. Carlitos moaned and groaned, really getting off on my licking his asshole. Afterward, he jacked off and laughed as he shot a huge load of cum all over my face that almost blinded me. Then he told me to lie face down. He started punching my butt really hard. He was getting pretty rough after a while, so I told him to cool it. He closed his eyes, whacked off for about three minutes then shoved his cock up my ass and raped me again, pulled out his cock and shot his hot load all over my sore butt.
After that last encounter, I stopped hearing from Mr. Carlitos. Maybe he lost my number. And then again, maybe the whole thing just ran its course. So, will I ever fuck him again? It’s possible. I’m sure he’s still out there hustling on Santa Monica Boulevard.
Beware of Greeks
By Mark Dante
He was a wiry little Greek, was Adrian Metropolis – built for speed. The girlie-girls thought he was pretty cute. So did some of the fellas.
Matter of fact, Adrian was damned cute: big brown eyes, curly dark hair, a full mouth with a crooked smile and straight teeth. It goes without saying he had a handsome Greek nose, and he kept his nifty little bod all shaped up with daily workouts.
The machos, however, were not too sure about Adrian.
He didn’t care. He was as happy as he was gay, and though he didn’t run with the pack, two or three times a week he’d descend on one of several bars he knew, pick off some cutey and take him home. This seemed to satisfy his basic needs.
At the moment, Adrian was enveloped in the arms of Morpheus, the Greek God of dreams.
Actually, Adrian was zonked. He’d stayed out too late, had one too many and spent several hours romping with the hunk who now shared his sack. At the moment his partner was wide awake. He was staring at Adrian’s schwanse. It was starting to rise with the sun. The young fella was fascinated with the action of Adrian’s cock. He had a nice one. Not huge, but surely big enough, with a tasty knob on the end when it was aroused. The hunk licked his chops, and his hand stole across the bed toward the lovely hard-on, the only thing Adrian had exposed. It was sticking out from under sheets that were drawn up over its owner’s head.
The hand made contact with the cock. Its owner groaned and flung off the covers. He glared at the hunk.
“How dare you touch my cock without my permission?!” he squeaked.
“Hey, come on, man. Last night it was community property.” growled his bedmate. “Didn’t I pleasure ya nice?”
“You woke me from a most delicious dream!” moaned Adrian.
“Why dream, when ya can have the real thing? Look Mister Metropolis, honey. I’m hungry. Couldn’t I have a bit of your sausage for breakfast?”
“Oh, shit! If you must, go ahead!” snorted Adrian.
He was just a bit jaded with this particular one-nighter, but a cock in the mouth is worth several in the bush.
While the young hunk had his way with Adrian, the Greek lay back and considered his good fortune. He was one of the lucky ones. He lived alone. He’d been raised by a doting grandmother who left him her posh brownstone on the west side and beaucoup in the buckola department. Adrian didn’t have to work, so to occupy his time and mind, he went to school at Columbia.
“Hey fella, don’t bite!” Adrian yelped at his tormentor.
“Ummm humph,” came the muffled reply.
Adrian specialized in ancient Greek culture. He spoke and read Greek fluently and studied mythology and archeology. His studies went along with his hobby. He was obsessed with the collection of early gay Greek erotic art. After all, didn’t the Greeks start the whole thing?
One day, his favorite art dealer called with what he thought was a great find. Adrian hurried over and was delighted to discover the dealer had procured for him a collection of rubbings from an ancient Greek bas relief. The pictures showed, in graphic detail, Greek athletes in every conceivable position of passion.
With his eyes bulging, Adrian flipped through the collection. “From where were these taken?” he asked.
“Ancient Sparta, Mr. Metropolis,” was the dealer’s reply.
“You’re kidding!” beamed Adrian. “Why, the archeology lab is going on a dig there next week!”
“Ohhhhhh!” moaned Adrian. The hungry hunk was working his magic on the young Greek’s tool.
“Ahh ... there’s nothing like it,” thought Adrian.
The pain was exquisite, and he held on as long as he could. Suddenly he grabbed the hunk by the ears and thrust his hard horn past the young hunk’s uvula, as he let go a stream of cum that would have drowned a less experienced cock-sucker. The hunk continued to suck until he’d drained Adrian dry. Then the hunk withdrew and looked Adrian in the eye.
“Tasted even better than last night. Guess leftovers are always more flavorful the next day,” observed the hunk.
“Yeah, yeah, Now that you’ve had your fun, let’s get a move on. Cover your ass and get out. I gotta start packing. My plane leaves in five hours.”
* * * * *
The next day Adrian was walking the streets of Sparti. (Modern Sparta). He was in pursuit of his favorite, make that second most favorite pastime, rummaging through old Greek shops.
In a dusty old shop, in a dusty old case, he spied a dusty old amulet. The dusty-crusty old shopkeeper saw Adrian admiring the piece and smiled knowingly.
“Ah, kind sir, an excellent choice. The amulet is enchanted.”
“And that doubles the price, right?” glowered Adrian.
“Oh, kind sir, you wound me with your suspicious words. I can let you have it for two hundred drachmas.”
“That’s highway robbery, but the amulet is damned interesting. I’ll give you one hundred,” offered Adrian.
“One-fifty and done, then,” beamed the shop man.
Adrian thought for a moment. He remembered what he knew about Greek culture and his own inner self.
“OK,” he said finally. “Throw in a horn job and done.”
“Done,” exclaimed the shop man with an appraising glance at Adrian’s perpetually lumpy crotch.
The dusty-crusty old man took Adrian to the back of his dusty shop. He held a dusty curtain aside and allowed Adrian to enter a dusty curtained room. Once inside, the old man motioned for Adrian to drop his drawers.
“Delightful,” cried the shop man as Adrian unveiled his tool. Then the old man knelt and took the unique bulbous head of Adrian’s cock into his mouth. The old man had no teeth and though the fastidious Adrian was appalled by the man’s lack of hygiene, he had to admit it was about the best blow job he’d ever experienced.
The old man gummed the hell out of it. He teased and twirled it with his talented tongue until Adrian’s balls ached to let go. Finally, the old man doubled his stoke, and Adrian came and came and came!
“Good work, old man,” Adrian sighed when the shopkeeper had finished.
The old man grinned a toothless, cumey grin. “You Americans are simply delicious. Much tastier than our Greek boys. Why is that?” the old man inquired.
“Vitamins,” Adrian volunteered as he took a spray can of Lysol from his shoulder purse and disinfected his genitals. “An ounce of prevention,” his old Granny had always told him.
Adrian paid the man, popped the amulet into his bag and took off.
* * * * *
The next few days found Adrian slaving with the rest of his Columbia class at the site of Menelaus’s palace outside Spa
rti. One evening, as he sat on a pile of rubble and watched the setting sun’s reflection ripple on the River Euortas, a thought struck him, and he rummaged around in his bag until he found it. He’d just finished a joint and felt all giggly as he held the old amulet up to the sun.
“Enchanted,” he snorted. Then remembering the old man, he smiled. What a blow job the old man had given him. He almost considered going into town for another, when he remembered the old man’s instructions for the use of the enchanted amulet.
“Humbug,” laughed Adrian has he held the amulet between his palms and aimed it toward the setting sun.
“Ah, Magic Amulet,” he giggled, “Take me back to ancient Sparta!”
Suddenly, there was a burning sensation from the amulet in his hands and a great roaring in his ears.
The pain caused him to blink, and when he opened his eyes, he found the roaring sound was a cheering crowd, and he was sitting in a bright sun-drenched box overlooking an athletic field. Off to the left and right stretched thousands of applauding people dressed in the costumes of ancient Spartans.
Next to him sat a distinguished looking, middle-aged gentleman who must be pretty important.
“Oh, hello there,” the man said to the dazed Adrian.
“Welcome to the games. My name is Menelaus. I’m the King hereabouts. At your service, sir. This is my wife, Helen.”
“Not the Helen?” Adrian stammered.
The beautiful young lady seated next to the King gave Adrian a wink. “Is there more than one?” she asked.
Adrian shrugged. The girl was very pretty, but he was more impressed with what was going on down on the field. He had never seen so many beautiful boys. They were all apparently in their late teens. Even better, they were all naked, and to top that off, some of them were very well endowed.
“Smorgasbord,” said Adrian to himself.
The King, who had been keeping one eye on Adrian and one on the field, remarked, “You seem to like our young men.”
Adrian, not sure of the local customs, blushed, “Oh, sorry, King, but they are damned pretty.”
“Would you like to have one of them?” offered the generous Menelaus.
“Well, golly gee, sure,” replied the delighted Adrian. “Who wouldn’t?”
“You look them over, and when the games are over, I’ll make the arrangements,” replied the King with a smile.
Adrian was highly pleased with the King’s proposition. He clapped his hands together and grinned from ear to ear. Then he rested his head on his hands and began to study the boys. There was one who really excelled in everything. He was lovely to look at, and his sporting prowess was without peer. He won the discus and javelin throws and most of the running events. The crowd was also enthusiastic in their praise of the boy.
At last the games were over, and the young man had also won the decathlon. As Menelaus placed the laurel wreath on the young man’s head, Adrian made his request, “That’s the one, King.”
“Xenephon? A wise choice indeed,” smiled the King.
“He’s my son by a former marriage. You may have him for a year. At the end of that time, he must go away and be married. He’s betrothed to the princess of Athens.”
“A year will be just ducky, King,” smirked Adrian with a wink at Xenephon. Xenephon winked back at Adrian.
The royal party moved back into the palace. The young object of Adrian’s adoration was called away for a few moments, and Adrian was taken to Xenephon’s quarters. On a large dais was the bed. It was raised on a pedestal and looked roomy and comfortable.
The servant who’d escorted him excused himself and left Adrian alone. Adrian wandered aimlessly about the room, admiring the statuary and various weapons and trophies that must be a part of every well-to-do young Spartan’s possessions.
Suddenly, Adrian froze. He stood before a giant bas relief that decorated one wall. At first glance, the carvings looked as if they were merely a random pattern like some of the wallpapers back home. On closer observation, however, the artwork revealed something altogether different and of particular interest to Adrian.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered,” he exclaimed to himself.
His eyes widening in recognition, the design was made up of many athletic young men who were, for the moment, engaged in activities other than athletics.
In fact, Adrian gasped as he identified the original sculpture from which his coveted book of Greek erotica had been taken. Once again, Adrian marveled at the imagination shown by the young men in the pictures.
Just then, however, he was distracted by someone behind him clearing his throat. He turned to see Xenephon standing close to him. The young man was also looking fondly at the carved wall.
“That was done last year. I had a bunch of the boys over, and one of them is quite an accomplished sculptor. I think the likenesses are remarkable. That’s me on top in this one,” said Xenephon, pointing to a trio in an astonishing position. “And here I am again on the bottom.”
“Aaaarumph ... yes ... yes ... I ... I see,” stammered Adrian, looking first at Xenephon and then at the carved images. His handsome eyes were bulging slightly as his vivid imagination pictured himself with Xenephon on the bed across the room.
The young prince could see that his eyes weren’t the only thing of Adrian that bulged. He took Adrian’s hand and led him to the bed. He motioned for the young Greco-American to sit. Adrian was, to say the least, excited by the presence of the young beauty and the prospect that Xenephon might show him a thing or two. He was disappointed when the athlete merely kissed his hand.
“Dearest Adrian. You must understand. You will enjoy all that I can give you, but not tonight. We do things with great ceremony around here. I must attend a celebration of my triumph at the games. You will just have to wait.”
Adrian slumped in disappointment as the Prince went on.
“Tomorrow we will have our ceremony of betrothal, you and I. Everything must be done according to proper protocol. You will sleep here tonight. I must sleep elsewhere. I must bid farewell to my former lover. It is only fitting,” he said as he stood up. “Until tomorrow, then, goodnight.”
Adrian was livid as Xenephon left the room. He’d gotten himself all worked up over the prospect of having the boy to himself. Now the handsome turd was going to do it with someone else.
He lay down on the soft bed and tried to sleep.
Across from the bed, in the soft light of the lamp, he could still make out the figures on the wall. This did nothing to lull him to sleep. It had been an exhausting day, however, and he finally fell into a fitful slumber. He dreamed of doing wild things with Xenephon all the long night long. Finally, the exquisite fantasy of the boy’s soft lips caressing the taught skin of his cock sent him into a climax, and he awoke from a very wet dream as he sent bolt after bolt of cum over his stomach and chest.
He remembered little of the next day. All he could see was the face and torso of the Prince of Sparta.
The eyes and lips called to him, but the ceremony went on and on, and the feast that evening only heightened his passion. Finally, a group of Xenephon’s friends escorted them to the young man’s chamber and locked them in with gales of laughter and their best wishes.
At last the young Prince stood before Adrian. Each wore a short skirt with a wide belt. They were bare-chested and their beauty shown in the soft light.
Xenephon took Adrian in his arms, and the young Greco-American nearly swooned as the soft, warm, fragrant lips descended upon his. Adrian was already so aroused that the kiss set him aflame. He felt Xenephon unfasten his belt and suddenly he saw they were both naked. Xenephon led him once more toward the bed. They lay down, and Adrian looked down to the area of their loins. He had only seen the athlete’s penis in repose as it swung between his legs during the games. It had been long and slim. Now it was incredibly hard, long and graceful. “A tool for love,” he thought to himself.
What followed was beyond belief, for though the boy was only eightee
n, he had been well schooled and was a genius at the art of erotica. His touch was, at first, light and gentle as he caressed and stoked Adrian from head to toe. His kisses were ambrosia, and his body was so beautiful, Adrian’s heart almost burst with love.
That night, Xenephon drove Adrian to near insanity with his subtle and irresistible caresses. He stretched Adrian on a rack of exquisite pain, and as the hours went spinning by, the young man fanned the fires of Adrian’s ardor then let the embers die down and glow a dull, dark red before he worked them again to white heat.
At length, Adrian screamed to be released, and the young beauty prepared for the final thrust of his mighty javelin. He laid Adrian on his back. Then taking a jar of oil from the side table, he smoothed it over his glorious cock and working his wondrous fingers into Adrian’s rectum, he anointed all with the magic potion.
He pushed Adrian’s knees up against his chest and slowly worked his marvelous manhood into Adrian’s ass.
Whether it was the oil or the tantalizing movements of the mammoth phallus, Adrian could feel every vein and pore of the giant tool. As it touched and then slid over his palpitating prostate, Adrian groaned and thrust his shapely ass down full on the lovely pole.
Xenephon closed his eyes and moaned a soul shattering moan as he began to work slowly in and out. He breathed Adrian’s name over and over, and the boy’s fragrant breath fanned Adrian’s face. The heat of their ardor caused them to perspire, but in their passion, the sweat smelled of rose water. The athlete continued to kiss and caress Adrian’s face and chest as he worked. Adrian ran his hands all over the beautiful, muscular body that held him. He touched Xenephon’s nipples, and the boy increased his pace.
The great cock stayed bone-hard as he shoved it in and out over the screaming prostate.
Boys Will Be Boys - Their First Time Page 25
