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Subject: Greek Getaway Chapter 1 Greek Getaway by RJ This multi-part fiction involves sexual contact between a man and a father/son duo. If you are offended by themes of incest, do not read. If you have any comments about my work, or even just want to chat, please don’t hesitate to message me. As always, please support Nifty in any way you can. ~ CHAPTER 1 ~ I’m not getting anywhere, and I’m slowly coming to terms with that. Or at least attempting. Coming here was a chance to revitalize myself, reignite something inside of me, take a break from my high-profile, high-stress job back in New York in order to find myself again. I suppose it’s not as dramatic as “finding myself again.” All in all, I love my job. In my early twenties, I never would have thought fashion design would become a passion. I’ve always loved to design, create, and produce something beautiful, and eventually, that turned into a career in fashion. But the intensity of the city must have been getting to me. Little by little, the stress must have been building up inside me, and my creative block was not been making things any easier. So here I am, taking a solo vacation in Greece after my borderline mental breakdown instead of attending Fashion Week. It’s naturally stunning here, there’s no doubt about that. And I’ve always wanted to come to Greece, ever since my grandmother raved about growing up here. The first few days I spent island hopping, spending the most time in places like Mykonos getting drunk and attempting to paint and fucking strangers. The islands didn’t help. So I tried the big city: Athens. I was praying for inspiration. And I told myself before I arrived that if I didn’t get what I was looking for, I’d at least relax. Enjoy myself. Enjoy my surroundings. But I can’t even do that. In a dramatic bout of frustration, I slam my sketchbook down on the little table I’m sitting at, adjacent to the bakery I ordered from a half hour ago. I start tensing my whole body to keep myself under control. In my head, I’m just screaming “Fucking fucker fuck” over and over. I haven’t been able to create something I really like in months. It’s never been this bad. Something’s missing. “Frustrated?” I open my eyes and look towards the voice that spoke. At the next table over, there’s a man. A beautiful man. A gorgeous man. In fact, he looks so beautiful that I falter a bit, blinking before I remember that I should answer him. “Terribly,” I say. He chuckles a bit. “I know the feeling.” He takes a sip of whatever he’s drinking and nods towards my sketchbook. “Are you an artist?” “Depends on the day,” I say drearily, but he seems to get a kick out of it, laughing a little harder. Then, with easy, care-free movements, he gets up from his table and comes sits at mine. “May I?” he asks, gesturing towards my sketchbook. I’m sure I would have said “yes” to anything this man asked. As I slide over the sketchbook to him, I take a better look at his face. He looks like a marble statue brought to life. Short, classic Grecian curls, but they’re a silvery grey with flecks of dark hair. Thick eyebrows tilted up to give him a much softer, more approachable look. Beautifully pale-blue eyes. The smoothest complexion I may have ever seen on anyone. I can’t help but stare and think “How are you real?” He blinks in surprise at something as he’s flipping through pages, and I look down. It’s a sketch I did of a guy I fooled around with on the first day here. He called himself Hercules, which I thought was irritatingly stupid, but despite his ego, he was sweet and a gorgeous specimen of a man. I drew him while he was sleeping. At first, I loved the sketch, but the more I looked at it, the more I chastised it. I could do better. At first, I think he might be offended by the nudity or something, but he says “This is beautiful. Emotional, even.” He glances at me, giving me a soft smile. “You’re quite talented.” He has such a calming voice that all my frustrations earlier seem to disappear. “Thank you,” I say, smiling slightly. “Do you only draw?” “Mostly design clothes. I paint too, though.” “Ah, a man of many mediums,” he says with a little smirk. “Famous?” “Famous? Probably not around here,” I say with a laugh. I wouldn’t say I’m “famous” back home either, though I am very well known within the fashion community. “Well I’d love to see your paintings. I’m a painter myself. Have you been to the Benaki Museum?” he asks me. “I haven’t,” I say. “It’s quite lovely. From one artist to another, I suggest you check it out.” “I haven’t exactly made an itinerary so that’ll be next on my list,” I say with a laugh. “Really?” He smiles. “Well, if you’d like, we can go now? It’s not far. Only a six minute walk, maybe.” I blink. “We?” “Yeah.” He stands up, finishing off his drink and then looking at me. “If you don’t mind, of course. If you’d prefer to go alone, I’d understand,” he adds with a laugh. “No, it’s fine. Absolutely fine.” I feel all flustered and surprised at his invitation, but I smile, packing my pens and my sketchbook back into my bag before standing up with him. I notice he has to be at least six feet tall. I stand at 5’7″ or 5’8″ on a good day, and have to look up at him. “Lead the way.” As we walk, I ask him if he lives here. “Yes,” he says, nodding. “I grew up in the States, and have jumped back and forth between here and there for years because of my family. Eventually I decided to settle here, maybe a decade ago.” “Good choice of residence,” I say, looking around at the people passing us by, smiling. “Though I feel like I’d be overwhelmed living here.” “Overwhelmed?” “Yeah. I’m from New York, but it’s a different type of overwhelming here. The architecture is all beautiful. The landscape is all beautiful. The colors, the weather, the art, the energy, the people — all beautiful.” I laugh. “Overwhelming.” He chuckles next to me. “You’d be fine. You’d fit right in.” Was that his way of calling me beautiful? It’s nice of him to say so. My looks are something that I rarely concern myself with (despite being in the fashion business). I am how I am. I have short, almost jet-black hair. Scruffy, probably messy facial hair. The slight hint of bags under my eyes that never seem to go away. A nice set of reddish lips and teeth that have the tiniest space between almost all of them (though I actually kind of like how it looks on me). Top it all off with a pair of thin, round glasses and there you have it. I suppose I have an “interesting” set of features since I have hints of Asian in me, but in general, I’ve never really felt like I’m anything extraordinary. But this man called me beautiful, and that’s what I’m sticking with for right now. When we get to the museum, he talks a little bit about the history of the building before we walk around and observe the various art pieces. Most, if not all of them, look or are very old, but for the most part, I don’t check dates. I typically don’t ever read the descriptions of art pieces unless I’m looking for the artist’s name, wanting the art to speak for itself. The nameless man who’s accompanying me, however, seems like he’s an art historian or something. He knows a lot about so many of these pieces. “Sorry if I’m droning on and on,” he says after a while, cutting himself off in the middle of a description. “Huh? No, I like hearing you talk,” I say, before blushing a bit. “About the art.” I clear my throat. “You seem pretty knowledgeable.” “I like to think so. Then again, I could be making it all up,” he says with a slight grin. I laugh. “I’m choosing to trust you. Is that bad?” He smiles a bit, looking at me before he puts his hand on my back, guiding me across the room. “Let me show you one of my favorites.” He moves me in front of a painting and stands behind me, hands on my shoulders. “Tell me what you think,” he says. “I want your honest opinion.” My honest opinion? I don’t see why this would be his favorite. “It’s… nice?” I say, squinting slightly. It’s just a painting of a girl looking back at the viewer. Nothing much to it. He laughs behind me. “You hate it.” “I don’t hate it, per se…” I say, chuckling. There’s just nothing in it to wow me. No depth. No connection. No out-of-the-ordinary skill. It’s just a decent painting. “I just… Why is it your favorite?” “Personal reasons, I suppose,” he says, sliding over to stand next to me. “I liked it so much the first time I saw it that I named my youngest after the artist.” “Seriously?” I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he has kids since he looks a little older than me. And it shouldn’t shock me that someone so invested in art named their kid after an artist they appreciate. I glance over at the plaque and read the description: “Girl from Megara” by Nikolaos Gyzis. Nikolaos. How Greek of him. “I had a bit of an obsession with this piece,” he says, smiling as he strokes his chin. “But… why?” He glances at me, still smiling. “First time I saw this, I fell in love.” I arch my eyebrow, intrigued. “Explain.” He laughs. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” “I already think you’re a little crazy,” I tease, and he smirks. “I don’t know what about it it was,” he says, glancing back at the painting. “But I was young. I came here on my own one day and saw this painting and immediately felt something irrevocable. Something intense. To this day, I feel like that was my first taste of true love.” On one hand, I find the sentiment beautiful. On the other hand, I want to laugh at him, but it’s mostly because I don’t personally understand where he’s coming from. “I’ve never been drawn to something like that,” I say, tilting my head at the painting. “Hell, I’ve never even been in love.” He looks surprised. “Really?” I smile sadly. “Really.” I’ve had a few boyfriends in the past, but nothing made me want to stay, or build a real relationship. I’ve never felt that fire, that passion, that sureness everyone speaks so highly about. I’m 36 now. Sometimes I wonder if it’s too late for me. “Do you want to be?” he asks. I shrug. “I don’t know. I go back and forth on it all the time.” He nods in understanding. “I get that. I always wonder if it matters.” He shrugs. “But I guess I’m a romantic. I always hope I’ll love like I used to.” “Like you used to with this Megara girl?” I tease, grinning slightly. He smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “No. My wife.” He sighs. “She died.” I wince. “Shit, I’m sorry.” “Don’t be,” he says, reaching over and stroking my arm once. “It was a long time ago.” I’m not good with these sorts of topics, so I don’t know what to say. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to expect me to offer words of consolation, and we merely continue with our tour of the museum. We take our time walking through the galleries, and all the while, we’re learning little things about each other through conversation. I find that he does art only with his hands, like finger painting, sculpture, craft, and construction. He also plays piano. I find myself looking at his hands often, imagining all the beautiful things they probably create. And I might also be thinking more lewd thoughts concerning those hands. By the time we leave the museum, evening is starting to set down upon Athens, and I smile at the cool ocean breeze hitting us when we walk out. “That feels nice,” I say, closing my eyes a bit. When I open them after a moment, he’s just looking at me, smiling a escort izmit bit. “What?” I ask. “Do you have any sort of plans this evening?” he asks me. I shake my head. “My plan was to not have a plan on this trip,” I say with a laugh. “So that means you can have a drink with me.” I blush a bit. “Is that what it means?” He laughs. “Do you not want to?” I smile. Hell fucking yes I want to. “I don’t even know your name.” He laughs again. “Fair.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Dimitri.” Dimitri. Seems more like a Russian name to me, but it fits his face and his personality very well. “Ben,” I say, smiling and shaking his hand. “Though everyone calls me Benji.” “Benji it is, then.” We take the subway to a bar across the city (closer to where he lives, apparently), and I immediately see why we made the trek all the way here. It doesn’t look much like a bar when we walk in. There’s art plastered all over the place, ivy all over the brick walls, cute, soft lights draped on strings across the ceilings… It’s cozy, and quiet and much more reminiscent of an indie coffee shop than anything else. He sees me smiling and clearly knows he made a good choice. When we get to the bar, he orders us a couple fancy cocktails before sitting down. I sit next to him, smiling slightly. “Cute place.” “One of my favorites,” he says. I notice he’s eyeing me a little more than usual, and so I retaliate by checking him out just as much. My eyes keep gravitating towards the bit of chest exposed by the top few buttons on his shirt being undone. He trims his chest, I bet. The hair is light, but it’s there. It makes me wonder what the rest of his body is like. “So I’ve been meaning to ask you…” he starts saying, looking at my eyes this time. “What brought you to Athens?” I shrug. “Inspiration and reprieve?” I say. He laughs. “Those are good reasons,” he says. “Have you been successful?” “Only slightly,” I say, looking at him and biting my lip. “Honestly, not to be weird, but you’re kind of inspiring.” “I don’t find that weird,” he says with a laugh, shifting his body to face me more. “How did I inspire you?” “Something about your energy,” I admit, gesturing to his general personal space. “And you’re pretty enough to draw.” He laughs and smiles in a boyish way, running his fingers through his curls. “Draw me, then.” “Right now?” “Why not?” I don’t have an excuse so I reach into my bag and pull out my sketchbook and a pen, setting it on the bar. “Tell me more about you, though. Inspire me further,” I say with a smile as I pop the cap off and begin drawing just as our drinks arrive. As I sketch and sip my cocktail, he tells me more about himself, focusing on his family. He tells me he’s 42, and has two sons — one sixteen year old that he’s close with, and a twenty year old who’s essentially estranged ever since the mother passed. He hasn’t dated anyone since his wife’s death because he’s waiting for that spark. In the meantime, he has only had casual flings. I try to discern whether or not he’s slept with men specifically, but I don’t get that crucial detail. Based on context clues, though, I’m willing to bet he has. At the very least, regardless of whether or not he has, I know he’s interested in me. When I finish the rough sketch, I slide it over to him. “Rough draft,” I say. He chuckles, running his thumb over the page. “Do I really look that sad?” I glance at the drawing and then laugh. “Fuck,” I say, rubbing my face. “I think it’s because you were talking about, y’know, not-so-happy things. I must’ve subconsciously… yeah.” Here we go. I’m a lightweight, and always have been, so that one little cocktail is already getting to my head. I don’t feel dizzy, necessarily, but I feel tipsy and loose-tongued. “I’ll finish it one day.” “Will I be able to see the final product?” I shrug, smiling. “Only the gods know.” He grins a bit. He clearly can handle his alcohol better than I can. I wonder if I look stupid right now. “How long are you in town for?” “Maybe another week or so. Just taking it as it comes.” “That’s a good philosophy to have.” He takes a sip of his drink. “I’ve been trying to employ that as well.” “But not succeeding?” He just smiles. “I might be.” We stay and chat at the bar for a while. He orders another drink, and I stick with something less alcoholic, like a glass of wine. The flirtations get heavy, but it’s interesting to me. I’ve never really flirted with someone older than me. And flirting has never felt so… well, romantic. But that could just be him. Everything about him screams romance. About a half-hour after we finish our drinks, we decide to leave and exit the bar. The cool night air feels so good considering how warm I feel from those two drinks. Damn, I need to build up some tolerance. I can barely even have a glass of wine without getting tipsy. I close my eyes and just feel the light breeze over my skin before I sigh, looking over at Dimitri. He smiles at me, both of us blocking the entrance. I notice this, so I start to move away, but Dimitri reaches out and grasps my arm, pulls me closer to him, and kisses me right on the mouth. I’m surprised, but only for a split second, because I get lost in his lips. I close my eyes as I press my lips back against his, my hands at his sides, lightly grabbing his shirt. I get lightheaded from the kiss. It’s nothing crazy, nothing wild or sensual, but it feels fucking intense, and warm, and flawless. I never want it to end. When he breaks the kiss, he pulls back very lightly, clutching onto me. “Come home with me,” he says softly. I automatically nod. No question about it. Take me home, you beautiful Grecian god. Take me anywhere. Just take me. He smiles and slides a hand down my arm to grab my hand before tugging me down the street towards a crosswalk. He grabs us a cab and ushers me into the back before slipping next to me and then telling the driver the address in Greek. It’s so sexy hearing him talk in another language so smoothly, and he smirks at me when he notices me staring. I want him to lean in and kiss me like we’re high schoolers in the back of his mom’s car, but he just slides his hand over, rubbing my thigh. I get so antsy by the time we make it in front of his apartment building. He pays the driver and then helps me out, laughing when I stumble on the curb. It’s not even because of the alcohol. It’s because I’m horny, and now I’m just embarrassing myself. I need some water or something. He leads me up two flights of stairs before grabbing his keys and unlocking the door, stepping inside. The apartment is heavily furnished, mostly with art, plants, and rustic looking furniture. There’s not a lot of room to walk, I notice — but at the same time, it’s styled very well. As I set my bag down, I notice how quaint and cozy this place is; but what stands out to me is the boy in the living room, watching television with a cat in his lap. He looks over at us when we walk in. “Hi, Dad,” he says, smiling at us. This must be Nikolaos. And my God, he’s beautiful too. The most gorgeous sixteen year old I’ve ever seen. He looks just like his father in terms of his face, save for a nostril piercing, slightly bigger lips, and blond hair (assumingly dyed because he has dark eyebrows). He also looks like he gets a little more sun than Dimitri does. “Nik,” Dimitri says, ushering me further into the apartment, “this is Benji. Benji, this is my youngest.” “Hi,” I say, suddenly nervous. How are these two so fucking gorgeous? I wonder what the other son looks like. Nik stands up to come over and politely shake my hand. Fuck, he’s tall too, just as tall as his father. Which means he’s taller than me. He’s slim, but sure to be toned underneath that large shirt and those small shorts. He shakes my hand firmly, smiling with teeth just as nice as his dad’s. “Nice to meet you, sir.” “‘Sir’,” I repeat with a laugh. “Nikky’s just polite,” Dimitri says with a chuckle. Nik rolls his eyes but smiles as he heads back to the couch, the cat immediately hopping back onto his lap. I feel Dimitri’s hand on my lower back as he leads me into the kitchen area. “Do you want anything?” “Water, please,” I say immediately. “Sure thing,” he says with a chuckle, grabbing a glass from a cupboard. “Your son looks exactly like you,” I say. “Isn’t it strange?” he says, smiling as he fills the glass from the tap. “He has his mother’s lips though.” He comes over and hands the water to me, standing very, very close. When I take the glass, he seems to make sure that our fingers make as much contact as possible, and as I lift the glass to my lips, his hands move to my hips. My heart starts racing a bit, and I barely move the glass away from my mouth when Dimitri leans down to kiss me. This time, it’s deeper. Still slow, but there’s tongue, and gentle motion against each other. This kiss is much, much more sensual. Much more erotic. Enough to make me feel myself stirring below the belt. He pulls back and grins, grabbing my hand again and then leading me down the hallway. At the end, we take a left into his bedroom, and he shuts the door behind him. I press into him immediately, keeping him against the door as our lips make contact. Our hands roam each other slowly but insistently, and I find myself gasping simply from that contact. But I want more. I want to touch him. I slide my hands up and start undoing buttons quickly as we kiss before slipping the shirt off of him completely and tossing it to the floor. I pull back to look at him, my mouth watering. His body type is similar to mine in that we both have the slightest hint of a belly from once being fit. It gives us both a softness to our bodies since our muscles are no longer the dominant features. The difference though is that all his body hair seems neatly trimmed, and I’m all natural. I wonder what he’ll think of that when my clothes come off. I don’t have to wonder long. He reaches forward and grips the hem of my shirt before tugging it over my head. My glasses go askew and I adjust them a bit, letting him look me over. I’m not terribly hairy, mind you. More like a “cub” than a “bear.” Dimitri seems to like it though, running his fingers down the thick trail of fur that runs down my entire torso. “Beautiful,” he says softly to himself, and I swear I get chills. He smiles at me before kissing me again just as his hands slide into my pants and cup my bulge. I moan a bit, reaching forward to do the same. I grope him outside his pants, feeling a strong bulge underneath, probably trapped in his underwear. Eager to see, I undo his pants and let them drop to the floor. He steps out of them as he undoes my belt and jeans and then tugs them down to my ankles. Soon, we’re both standing there half-naked, him in his briefs and me in a jockstrap. I forgot I was wearing this, honestly, but he grins at the sight. “Interesting choice,” he says, groping the pouch in the front before his hands slide around to grab at my hairy ass. That makes my dick throb, having my ass handled. I’m almost exclusively a bottom — not necessarily because I don’t like to fuck, but because I enjoy getting fucked immensely more. I place my hands on his hips before fingering his waistband and then starting to tug down his briefs. He doesn’t stop me. His cock swings free, already hard, and as I pull down his underwear to his ankles, I get to my knees. I push my face izmit escort into his crotch, first nuzzling his balls and inhaling. God, that scent. A day’s worth of adventure trapped from his underwear. I’m actually drooling, I notice, and I put it to use by sucking softly on his balls. He moans out, reaching down and stroking his cock while I do so. I then slowly slide up, looking up at him as I drag my tongue up his shaft and then take him in. I move his hand away and take over as I start to bob back and forth, relishing in the taste. He’s got a great cock. As I take him into my throat slowly, all the way down to his trimmed pubes, I make an estimation of seven inches, maybe just a little over that. With a seriously impressive amount of girth, too. It’d be enough to make my jaw sore after a while, I’m sure. He moans, pushing his hips forward as I take him all the way. I cough a bit but keep it together, thankful I didn’t drink too much. I pull back slowly, almost pulling off, but then I work my way back down. I take the blowjob slow, and he doesn’t push me to speed up or anything. He just lets me enjoy myself for a while. Eventually he does pull me up and leads me to the bed. I get on my back as he kisses me and crawls over me, his cock poking the bulge in my jockstrap. His hands start to wander over my arms, shoulders, and chest, and when he breaks the kiss, he adds his lips to the equation. I watch him kiss each pec before sucking on one of my nipples. It’s like electricity through my body, and he notices, sucking a little harder, even nibbling lightly, before pulling back and giving it a quick lap of his tongue. I pant a bit and watch as he moves to the next one, giving it the same treatment before he very gradually makes his way down. This is so different from the other hookups I’ve had here so far. The other guys, for one, were younger than me. They were quick, too. Maybe a couple rounds of the old in-and-out, but just as a need to get off. Dimitri, though… he’s really into my body, taking his time to get me really fucking horny. And then he gets to my cock. He kisses the pouch, looking up at me once before peeling the jockstrap off. His eyes open in surprise as my cock flops out onto my stomach with a heavy slap, and then he laughs. “Wow, Benji,” he says, wrapping his fingers around it. I moan. I couldn’t get that hard with the jockstrap on, but now that my cock is out in the open, and in Dimitri’s loving hand, I’m quickly getting there. He seems to study it, watching me get fully hard and then admiring it for a while. “Big Ben, huh?” he says with a grin. God, how many times have I heard that joke? I’m fairly hung, I know this, being just a hair shy of a thick nine inches. Plus, since I’m not that tall, it looks even bigger on my body. Almost disproportionate, depending on who you ask. After hearing it so much for nearly two decades, I got sick of the “Big Ben” joke. I let it slide this time, though. Even give him a laugh because I like him. Dimitri leans forward and laps at the head of my cock repeatedly, jerking me off with a milking motion. He gets what he wants: a nice, thick drop of precum. He sucks it off the tip of my cock with a pleased sound before starting to blow me, stroking me at the same time. He seems like he knows what he’s doing. Too often I have guys who can’t handle it in their mouths, or try too hard to make a spectacle out of it. Dimitri seems to know what I need: something simple. A good grip, a steady stroke, and a curious tongue. He often explores more than the head as well, kissing and lapping at the sides of my shaft until I’m as hard as I can possibly be. He kisses my balls once, looking up at me. “Do you want to fuck?” Something about the way he enunciated that question makes me swoon a bit. “Yeah,” I say simply. He then sits up on his knees between my legs. “I hope you didn’t have any expectations coming here,” he says, eyes still on my cock, “because I’ve never taken something that big.” “No, it’s okay,” I say, giving my cock a few playful strokes. “I’m a bottom.” He arches his eyebrow. “Really?” Then he grins. “Well that works.” He rubs my thighs, giving my balls a gentle massage. “Shame, though. Your cock is a work of art.” I laugh. “You’re lucky it’s free tonight,” I joke. He grins a bit, leaning over and kissing me. I stop him after a moment, though. “Wait. Do you mind if I clean up real quick?” “I don’t mind,” he says with a smile, kissing me again. “As long as you’re quick.” “I’ll be as fast as possible.” He slides off of me, resting on his side. “Where’s the bathroom?” “Right next door.” I open the door, but then remember, his son is in the living room. He could see me. “Should I–?” “It’s not a big deal,” he says, seeming to read my mind. I bite my lip but head down the hallway quickly, getting to the next room. I spend a moment to wash my face with cold water to wake me up a bit, and then wash my ass a little just to make sure I’m still good to go. When I come back, Dimitri hasn’t moved, just lying there and scratching his chest and lightly playing with his cock. He smiles at my return. I shut the door and then come back on the bed, lying down next to him and kissing him deeply. We kiss and touch each other for a while before he hops off the bed. He grabs my legs and puts them over his shoulders before he grips my thighs and slides me to the edge of the bed, my ass right against his crotch. He grinds slightly, and I’m concerned he’s just going to fuck me right then and there, but instead, he gets to his knees, and my hole already starts twitching in anticipation. I start thinking about what Dimitri had said about the “Girl in Megara” painting. How it felt like it was his first taste of true love. Because I’m pretty sure I fall in love with his tongue. He doesn’t spread my cheeks, or complain about the hair. He just puts his hands on the backs of my thighs, holds my legs back, and dives in, letting his mouth do all the work. He eats me out so tenderly that I melt. My cock throbs with every lap of his tongue. He’s practically making out with my hole like it’s someone he’s been waiting to make love to again for years. I’m in heaven. My eyes roll back as his tongue dares to enter me. My toes curl and my mouth opens and I let out soft, almost embarrassingly high-pitched moans, but I can’t stop myself. He’s making me feel so damn good, so erotically soothed. When he pulls back, I hate how disappointed I feel, but then I remember: he wants to fuck me. He leans over to rummage through his nightstand before pulling out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth, and then slipping it over his cock. His thickness stretches the material nicely, so much so that it barely looks like he’s wearing one. He grabs my calves this time, getting in between my legs and then nudging the tip of his cock against my entrance. He pokes and prods my hole with the head of his cock a few times, and I’m unsure if he’s teasing or testing me. But soon, he pushes forward. My hole stretches to welcome him, but he’s thicker than most dicks I’ve taken, especially recently, so I gasp in surprise. I haven’t felt this stretched out in a long fucking time. I grip the sheets in tight fists as he works his way deeper inside of me, fucking me gently with every inch until finally, he bottoms out. I’ve never felt so full. He now lets out a deep moan mixed with a sigh, running his hands over my thighs. Then he starts to thrust. Every time he thrusts back in, my cock twitches, bouncing up. He’s the one who points it out, holding my cock in his palm and watching it twitch in time with his movements. We both laugh slightly, but I’m feeling so warm and dizzy from pleasure that I have to focus. Fuck, he’s so big. It hurts a little, but it feels incredible, even with him taking his time. He gradually picks up the pace, but not by much. It’s so unlike the bunny-rabbit types I’ve messed with. Which of course, I enjoy, but this is a welcome change. I feel like he’s inside more than just my body, the way he’s working me over. I look up at him, and he’s smiling down at me before he crawls onto the bed more, shifting us so that he can get our bodies together while fucking me. He kisses me deeply, so deeply that I’m fucking breathless. I find my fingers in his soft locks, stroking and tugging gently as our mouths move together. Then he starts laughing softly against my lips. I get embarrassed. Nervous, even. “What?” I ask. “You don’t know how good this feels, Benji,” he says softly, kissing my chin. He slows his thrusts to a grind. “I might have an idea,” I say with a slight laugh, feeling flushed in the face. He moves down and kisses my neck, and I moan a little. “You’re just so damn sexy,” he says, close to my ear as he gently nips at my neck. “And beautiful.” My ego hasn’t been petted like this in a long time, so I’m soaking it all in. He kisses my shoulder and then suddenly pulls out of me, to which I groan a bit. I hear him pull the condom off before he kisses me, pressing our cocks together and grinding. We frot for a bit, my hands exploring his back and his ass as we do some good, old-fashioned humping while we kiss. Eventually, I shift us. I roll us over so I’m on top, and then I go down on him while I’m on my hands and knees, positioned perpendicular to his body. He holds up his cock for me as I slobber slowly on his meat. He moans a bit, and after a minute, grabs at my thigh, tugging me towards him. I take that as a signal to straddle him, and he eagerly takes my cock into his mouth as I get into the proper position, both of us sucking each other off at the same time. As he hums, he sends vibrations through my shaft, and I throb, surely rewarding him with copious amounts of precum. I know he’s giving me plenty. After a long oral session, we go back to making out, resting on our sides and facing each other as we jerk ourselves off. He’s the first to cum. He kisses me once and then looks at me for a moment before closing his eyes and grunting. I feel his warm cum splatter against my arm, stomach, and cock, and as I’m stroking myself, he’s essentially providing me with lube. I kiss him through his orgasm, getting close as well. He slips an arm between my legs, under me, and his fingers find their way to my hole. As soon as he starts rubbing and petting it, I cum, my hips twitching as I shoot my load all over his lower torso. I’m surprised at how blinding my orgasm is. For a moment, I forget who I am, where I am, what I’m doing. All that matters is that blissful nothingness. When I come to, I blink, and Dimitri is watching me curiously. Maybe he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking. I inhale and exhale deeply, laughing slightly, and he grins. “Can I be honest for a moment?” he says after a while. “Sure,” I say, resting my head against the arm that he has under me. My glasses get in the way, so I take them off for now. “That was the best sex I’ve had in a long time.” I laugh. “Really?” “Yeah. I mean, in case you couldn’t tell, I find you extremely attractive,” he says with a grin, reaching up to stroke my jaw a little. Thank God the lighting in her is virtually nonexistent because he’d see me blushing. “But there was a moment… when I was inside you, I felt something between us. I don’t know if you felt it too.” I’m surprised at how casually he’s speaking about this. But it does izmit kendi evi olan escort seem his style. As if he’s reading my mind, he speaks up again. “Sorry if that’s too forward of me.” “No, you’re fine,” I say, smiling. “That was… something,” I say, unsure how to describe it. But to emphasize my point, I lean up and kiss him tenderly. I’m sure sex for him is an emotional event, considering the way he described his previous encounters and how he said he “felt something” with me. I’ve never been emotionally invested in sex before, but this time, I felt a change. A slight “something.” Not necessarily full-fledge “emotion,” per se, but a spark of some sort. Can that really happen between strangers? When I finish kissing him, he just smiles, running his fingertips gently over any part of my body he can easily reach: my sides, my stomach, my chest, my thighs, my cock. I get goosebumps wherever he touches me. “I want to know more about you.” I laugh. “What do you want to know about me?” “Anything and everything.” And so we talk. I’m not usually one to talk about myself, especially after sex, but I feel so comfortable with him. Something about his voice, his aura, his touches, his interest… it all coaxes pieces of my life story out. We share back and forth for a long while, a little over an hour, until we hear a voice outside the door. “Dad?” Dimitri sighs heavily, smiling. “Yeah?” “You almost ready?” He swears under his breath as if he forgot to attend to something. “Not tonight.” “C’mon.” “I have a guest, Nikky,” he says. “You promised, though.” “Do you want me to go?” I ask to Dimitri. I’m not sure what they’re talking about, but I feel bad being in the middle of something. “No,” he says, stroking my cheek. “I want you to stay.” He kisses me softly. “Why don’t you just rest here? I’ll be back in a bit.” “Okay,” I say, smiling gently. He kisses me again for good measure before hopping off of his bed, reaching into his closet, and putting on a robe. As I get under the covers, he opens the door, and Nik is standing outside of it. His dad is blocking my view of him, but I hear him giggle and say “I knew you would–” before his dad cuts him off, speaking in Greek. Dimitri closes the door, and eventually I hear muffled giggles before a sharp “Shhh!” Then, everything is quiet. It feels warm where I’m lying from our body heat, and the room still smells of sex, so I close my eyes with a smile on my face. I try and wait for Dimitri to return, but within minutes, I’m asleep. When I wake up in the morning, I’m still naked under the sheets. I vaguely remember Dimitri coming back to bed at some point, but he’s not here now. I stir and stretch a bit, groaning before I sigh and rub my stomach, looking around his room for the first time. It’s much like the rest of the apartment: tastefully cluttered with art and plants and old-looking furniture. I smile slightly before sliding out of bed. I put on my glasses and my clothes from yesterday before stepping outside of the room. Down the hall and in the kitchen, Dimitri is at the small dining table, sipping coffee and leafing through a magazine. He looks up at me as I walk in and smiles. “Good morning.” “Morning,” I say groggily, smiling a bit. I mess with my hair a little, realizing I didn’t even look in a mirror before I came out here. I probably look like a fucking mess, albeit a happy one. I join him at the table with a sigh. “Sleep okay?” he asks. “Yeah, thanks.” I bite my lip a bit before clearing my throat. “So, should I take the subway back to my hotel, or just take a cab the whole?” He raises his eyebrows. “You’re leaving?” “Well… I mean…” I laugh nervously. “I can’t stay here.” “Why not? I thought you had no plans,” he says with a slight smile. “Yeah, but, I need to shower–” “So shower here.” “But my clothes–” “I have plenty.” I laugh. “You’re too tall, Dimitri. Nothing will fit me.” He’s about to open his mouth to speak, but I reach over, putting my hand over his. “Trust me. I don’t want to leave. But all my stuff is at my hotel.” “You say that like we can’t go get it.” I can’t help but laugh. I know what he’s implying, and he’s crazy for thinking I can just stay with him. We just met. Then again, we do seem to have a good connection. And, in a way, it’d be stupid of me to ignore the obvious inspiration that’s radiating from him. This is what I came here for. To be re-inspired. Maybe I can just find a hotel closer to him. “Besides,” he says, “you can’t leave yet. You have to see the market before noon.” “I have to?” I say with a grin. “Well, you don’t HAVE to,” he says, laughing. “But I hope you will.” I think about it for a moment. Maybe I can do just a quick tour of whatever this market is, especially if it’s over at noon. Because I really would love to spend more time with Dimitri. Just then, Nik comes in, wearing boxers and a t-shirt and rubbing his eyes. “Morning, gentlemen,” he says with a smile, going right to his father. They both give each other a peck on the lips, and then Nik smiles at me. The kiss surprises me, and I half-expect a kiss myself before I realize that’s probably stupid. They’re close. It’s just a family thing, maybe. “I’m trying to get Benji here to come to the market with us,” Dimitri says. “Oh, you must!” Nik says, beaming as he looks at me. “Sal is performing.” “Who’s Sal?” “A friend of mine,” Dimitri says. “He’s a dancer. Does some very strange things. It’s quite magnificent.” “Sounds interesting.” “So you’ll come?” Nik asks. “I’d love to, but… I really should get back to my hotel. I need to shower, check my emails–” “Just shower here,” Nik suggests, pointing to the door that leads to the bathroom. “Emails can wait. Noon is only a couple hours away.” Leave it to both of them to keep trying to rope me into staying longer. I give in. I don’t even know why I was hesitating. I think it’s this ingrained feeling of not wanting to be a burden. That’s why I stick it solo so often. “Fine,” I say, and Dimitri beams. “Nikky, show him where the towels and everything are.” “Okay.” I follow Nik’s tall, lean form into the bathroom. He opens one of the cabinets under the sink and points to a bunch of colorful towels and washcloths. “Here are the towels. Soaps are all in the shower. You can use whatever you like, just not the black soap. Also, leave the door slightly open to air out the steam. The vent is busted. Um…” He taps his fingers, looking around as if forgetting something. Then his eyes fall on me. He looks me up and down, which seems to spark his memory. “Do you need any clothes?” I pull on my shirt and smell it. It wasn’t hot yesterday, and I didn’t sweat, so I think I’ll be fine. At least for the morning. “I think I’m okay. Thank you though.” I’ll just change at the hotel. “Of course,” he says, just as polite as his father. I poke my head into the shower, pulling back the curtain. Just before he steps out of the bathroom, I stop him. “Uh, wait. How the hell do you turn this thing on?” The knobs look exactly like the one at my grandma’s (the type that can be pulled or pushed, twisted and adjusted at weird angles, rotated clockwise or counterclockwise…) but this time, there are three of them, none of which are labeled in the slightest. Nik chuckles and comes over and shows me how to turn it on, quickly turning a few of the knobs before switching the water from the faucet to the shower head. “Don’t know how hot you like it,” he says, glancing up at me. “Adjust it with this guy.” He points to the upper left knob. I just nod, already forgetting most of the steps. “Sure. Thanks again.” He nods and then slips out of the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. I take a breath and then strip down before stepping into the shower. It’s not as hot as I usually like my showers, but considering how intimidating the knobs are, I stick with it. I don’t take too long in the shower. I just want to rinse off, wash my face and body, and feel a little refreshed. As I peruse their soaps and clean myself off, I think of Dimitri and smile. He’s everything I need for this trip. Calm, intriguing, artistic, sexual. I think he makes me nervous because I like him so much already. And he’s intimidatingly beautiful. What does he even want with me? Regardless, I should spend more time with him. He can be my Greek getaway fling, or something along those lines. When I finish up, I feel great, excited about how the prospects of this trip have changed. Looking down at the knobs makes me realize that I don’t know how to turn off the shower, though. Why the fuck are there three of them? I try a couple things, but I know I won’t get it. I can barely turn on the shower at my grandmother’s house, and she only has one of these knobs. Feeling stupid but not wanting to waste water and time, I step out of the shower and grab one of the towels. I dry myself off minimally and then wrap it around my waist, heading to the door to ask Nik or Dimitri to help me. However, I barely get the door open when I stop. Totally freeze. From my perspective, I can mostly see them. The fridge isn’t totally blocking my view, but just cuts off half of Nik’s back as he stands in front of his father. They’re chatting. I can’t hear what they’re talking about, or if they’re even speaking in their native English tongue; the shower is way too loud. And I desperately want to know what they’re talking about. I’ve never wanted to know anything more in my entire life, because tall, beautiful Nik has his dad’s cock in his grip. I can’t move. I can only stare. They seem to be laughing about something, because Dimitri is all smiles, gazing at his son while Nik plays with his very erect penis. I don’t know what to do, or think, or believe. Am I hallucinating? Dreaming? Perceiving it all wrong? All I know is that my own cock is getting hard, tenting against the towel a bit. And then, Nik leans in, and they kiss. And it’s not an innocent kiss. Not innocent in the slightest. It is deep and sensual and tongue-filled. Fuck. Holy fucking shit. I feel breathless, half because of the steam filling the room, and half because of what I’m seeing. What is unfolding in front of me. This is terribly audacious of them. Maybe they don’t suspect I’d catch them because the shower is still running. I’m sure they can hear it. It’s fucking loud. But even still, I’m not that far away. From my angle, I can see almost everything. Since half of Nik’s body is blocked by the fridge, so I can’t tell what Dimitri’s other hand is doing. But I see enough. I see plenty. Nik’s fingers wrapped around Dimitri’s cock. Them kissing and laughing like this is nothing new. It makes me wonder… what was going on last night? I step away from the door. I need air, and I need to get out of this bathroom, so I do my best trying to get the shower to turn off. It takes me a full three or four minutes to manage to shut off the water, and even then, I don’t know how I did it. It’s instantly much quieter, and I sigh heavily, feeling like I’m sweating. I put on my clothes from yesterday, jockstrap excluded (it’s difficult stuffing my dick into the pouch so I just stuff it in my pocket), and then drape the towel next to another one by the tub before I take a breath and step out of the bathroom. I instantly feel cooler not being suffocated by steam, but my heart is racing when I see Dimitri. He’s smiling at me all innocently, just standing there in a new outfit, with Nik nowhere to be seen. I glance at his crotch, but his pants are loose. “There you are,” Dimitri says as I step into the kitchen. “Ready to go, then?” he asks. I just laugh nervously. Am I?

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