Date: Tue, 27 Jan 2009 12:38:01 +0000
From: clever wag <cleverwag@hotmail.com>
Subject: A Professor's Greek Holiday (Part Three)

This is the continuation of a story about sex between older men and boys in
a fictitious part of modern Greece. In later stages it will contain some
bisexual content too. It is in every sense a work of the imagination and a
fantasy. It is very graphic and safe sex is not practiced. If such stuff
offends you or you are not of legal age in your country please do not read
it. It is your choice.

I always welcome feedback and suggestions so feel free to email me at
cleverwag@hotmail.com

Otherwise...enjoy...

Dave Snow


3.


The next morning the old man went to the supermarket, as he did every
morning, to buy the English papers from yesterday. He took them to his
favourite daytime kafenion, which was on the village square, ordered coffee
and sat at a table on the pavement. On the far side of the square Fotis's
taverna wasn't open yet. There was a slight stirring in the old man's loins
as he gazed at the still shuttered kitchen window and thought of Stavros,
the muscled ugly kitchen boy, and his beautiful sweating body.Of course he
didn't know if the boy was really called Stavros - he had only given him
that name in his fantasy of the night before.

His eyes moved to the arrangement of soft chairs and small tables under an
awning in the centre of the square, where the tourists (and few Greeks)
would sit drinking over-priced cappuccinos during the day and brandy at
night.There were just a couple of Germans there now, a man and his wife,
debating over a guide-book.

Then he saw the boy Ilia, standing louchely by the old mulberry tree where
the local men sometimes sat to play cards and gossip and smoke. There were
no men there now only Ilia.

He was wearing cut-off shorts, shorn from a pair of old jeans, and a grey
hooded sweatshirt. It was the sort that could be unzipped all the way down,
and of course pretty Ilia had unzipped his. His golden boy-chest shone
slightly in the building heat. More importantly, he was staring directly
back at the old man.Realising he'd been spotted, the lovely boy smiled, a
little shyly, and raised a hand in a girlish wave.

The old man's phone rang. He so hated these things You could be called
wherever you were and whatever you were up to. He'd resisted owning one
until very recently, but his daughter had insisted and bought him
one. 'You're not getting any younger dad, you need this for any kind of
emergency, you know...'

It was his daughter on the phone now. He had some trouble finding the green
button. He still hadn't worked out how to make a call, but he could just
about understand how to accept one.

'Hi dad!'

'Hello Rebecca...'

''What you up to?'

'Right now? I'm having a coffee...'

The radiant boy was still staring at him from across the square. Casually
the kid let a hand drop to his crotch, adjusting it a little under his
tight cutoffs. What a little tease, the old man thought.

'Are you working properly...?' his daughter asked.

'If you mean am I still in working order, yes I am, I think...' His
stirring cock seemed to confirm this.

'No, dad, I meant are you doing your work, you know, have you found any
nice ruins?'

There's nothing ruined about the glorious young creature I'm gazing at now,
thought the old man. But he said 'yes a few.'

'And you're writing? Not too many distractions?'

Quite a few, thought the old man, and possibly even more with any luck. But
he said 'no no distractions...'

The boy scratched his glowing smooth chest, and parted the hooded
sweatshirt just a bit more as he did so. The old man caught sight of a pert
pointy nipple. It wasn't exactly open and deliberate teasing - it could
have been something any boy might do on a hot morning. But the old man
sensed it was more than that. This boy was obviously a total slut.

'Good, because dad? I've just had a mega-row with Graham and he's walked
out...'

Graham was her husband. The old man wasn't unduly concerned, because Graham
was always walking out, or she was walking out on Graham. It was that kind
of marriage, and had been for years.

'Oh I'm sorry to hear that...'

Now the boy did something that the old man knew was intentionally
provocative, there could be no question of it. After looking around to
check that he wasn't being watched, except by the old man, pretty Ilia
licked the tip of a finger and then slowly lowered it to the exposed nipple
on his chest, and with the small circular motion, he rubbed it. The old man
had to let out a little gasp.

'Dad? Are you ok?'

'Yes yes I'm fine...'

'So I was thinking maybe I could fly out?'

'No...yes...of course...when?'

'You don't want me to fly out? I won't disturb you, I just need a little
break, you know?'

'When?' the man repeated. Ilia, still checking that nobody but the old man
was looking at him, opened his shirt still more to reveal his other nipple
and then, after licking his finger again, played with that one too. You
heavenly little tart, the old man thought.

'I don't know, in about a week? I'll check on flights...'

Ilia suddenly turned and walked away, towards the narrow passage next to
the taverna. He glanced back over his shoulder, as he did so. The old man
stared at his pert little buttocks under the too tight cutoffs, swaying
slightly as he disappeared into the darkness of the passage.

'Dad?'

'Yes I'm here...'

'You sound breathless, are you sure you're okay?'

'Yes I'm fine.'

'So can I come out or not?'

'You must do whatever you want, sweetheart...' He was struggling to find
money in his back pocket to leave on the table for his coffee. He needed to
get across that square as soon as he could.

'Wow thanks for sounding so enthusiastic...'

'Darling you will be very welcome now I have to go...'

'Go? Where?'

'There's a...friend I've made out here, he's just arrived, we're off to
look at some ruins...'

'Oh okay...bye dad...'

'Bye..' He snapped the phone shut, put a couple of euros on the table and
walked, nonchalantly but quickly, to the other side of the square and into
the passage.

The boy was waiting for him by a door at the side of the taverna. As soon
as he saw the old man coming, Ilia opened the door and slipped through
it. The old man followed him, and they were in the kitchen. There was
nobody else there, nor was there anyone that the old man could see in the
eating area itself, which faced away from the village square and towards
the beach and the sea.

The old man thought again of Stavros the kitchen boy, or whatever he was
really called, with his phenomenal smooth sweat-soaked muscle,and imagined
the dirty and willing kid before him being fucked by Stavros's hard cock,
there in the kitchen, maybe on one of the work surfaces.

He became utterly hard at the thought, and before he could stop himself he
grabbed the boy. He kissed him roughly on his pouty little mouth, pulled
the sweatshirt back over his shoulders and ran his hands all over his tight
lean brown torso. Ilia squealed and even giggled and struggled to get away,
which only made the old man even harder.

Eventually the kid extricated himself from the old man's grasp and said
`no, no...' in Greek. He put his hands up and shook them at the old man to
indicate to him to stay away.

Ilia could speak very little English. He pointed to the old man and then to
himself, and said `Paneoti?' Then he pointed to the old man again and
grinned, and pouted a little and once again said `Paneoti?'

Why was this luscious young bitch talking about Paneoti all of a sudden,
the wonderful boy he'd worshipped in the derelict church all those days ago
and who he hadn't seen since? Then he remembered that he'd mentioned the
boy's name last night, in the restaurant, and had even confessed, quite
courageously at the time, to liking 'bad boys'. And Ilia had heard and
understood all this presumably.

The slut before him now grabbed his own crotch, cupping his cock and balls
in his hand under his shorts, pouted even more and thrust his hips back and
forth and said `Paneoti?' It was an extraordinarily stirring sight, this
heavenly blonde child,shirtless now, with a sheen of sweat on his perfect
boy's body, bucking his hips and buttocks, still holding his cock, miming a
fucking motion. The old man stretched out and tweaked one of Ilia's nipples
so that he squealed and jumped back further.

Ilia said `Paneoti' yet again and pointed out beyond the kitchen, meaning,
the man supposed, that Paneoti was out there somewhere.

`Where?' he asked, `where is Paneoti?'

'Paneoti? You like?' asked the boy.

'Yes I like, where is he?'

'I like too...' said Ilia, 'he very sexy, yes?' He was still rubbing his
cock under the cutoffs.

'Where the fuck is he?' the old man demanded,perhaps too loudly, worrying
now that those in the still sleepy square might have heard him. He grabbed
the boy's shoulders, which were quite meaty, he noticed, for someone still
so young. 'Tell me,' he hissed.

Ilia had picked up on the word 'fuck'. 'You like fuck Paneoti?' he
said. The man slapped him, hard, across the face.

The boy yelped. He rubbed his cheek. For a moment he seemed startled, and
in considerable pain. But then he grinned. The old man thought this a very
good sign indeed. He would enjoy hurting this delicious boyslut. He would
enjoy fucking and hurting him very much. He slapped him again, across the
other cheek. The the boy let out a little cry of pain, followed by a small
moan of obvious pleasure.

'You...' said the old man, pointing to Ilia...'take me,' pointing to
himself, 'to Paneoti, yes?'

The boy nodded.He then stuck his hands out and made a driving gesture as if
he was holding a steering wheel.

'Yes yes, we drive,' said the old man.

Ilia rubbed his fingers and thumb together. He clarified this gesture by
saying, in English, 'pay? yes?'

'Yes yes,' said the man, 'when we find Paneoti...'

Within an hour he and edible young boy were driving up into the hills in
the man's little hire car.

It was already a swelteringly hot day. Ilia was still shirtless of course,
and lolled sensually in the front passenger seat, teasing the old man with
his every movement -- scratching his chest and stomach, tugging at his
cock under his shorts, flicking his glorious blonde hair in the breeze that
rushed through the open window.

The old man had great difficulty concentrating on his driving and sometimes
Ilia would grab the steering wheel and yank it to stop the man swerving off
the edge of the road, and then he'd laugh. Every time he did that the old
man smelt his boy-sweat.

Once, the boy stretched out and touched the man's cock and let out a little
giggle and said something in Greek that the old man thought meant
`hard'. The old man wished that this amazing little boywhore beside him
would take the cock out and start to suck on it while he was driving. That
would almost certainly have caused an accident, possibly a fatal one, as
they were ascending the mountains now and the road was become narrower,
steeper, bendier and more dangerous by the minute.

What a way to go though, he thought, careering over a cliff with a
fifteen-year-old blonde shepherd boy'sluscious little mouth munching at
your dick.

They drove up and up, then down again, and up. They'd been driving for
about an hour when Ilia pointed forward and the old man saw a large white
villa, all on its own, on a hillside across a valley. `Paneoti,' said the
kid.

It had only been a glimpse, because the villa was surrounded by trees and
it disappeared again. Paneoti was staying in a villa in the middle of
nowhere? It had looked pretty expensive, big and gleaming. Sometimes they
saw it again, as they went down into a valley and then started to ascend
again, just now and then flashing through the heavy screen of pine trees.

Finally they reached a large set of closed gates set back from the road.
Whoever lived behind these gates was rich. Pretty Ilia jumped out of the
car and ran mincingly up to one the gate pillars and pressed a buzzer,
saying something Greek into the intercom. Not long afterwards the gates
opened automatically. Ilia jumped back into the car, gave the old man a
lascivious grin and they drove through.

The grounds were extensive and well manicured -- with lush watered lawns
and masses of flowers and stately pines and cypress trees and palms. The
villa began to appear through the foliage.

An amazingly muscular black man, wearing only shorts and sweating in the
heavy heat, was clipping a bougainvillea bush and turned to look at them as
they passed him. Ilia gave him a little wave and the black man waved back.

`Sexy man,' said Ilia, `his name Bobo, he very big!' and he put his hands
up, palms inwards, to indicate the size of the gardener's member.

`You don't say', said the old man, looking back at the god. He was probably
about thirty and all smooth black brawn, like a Nubian slave. Ilia
tittered.

Then, around yet another corner, the old man saw something close to a
pederast's heaven.

There was the villa, a grand pile, gleaming white,with balconies and
terraces. But what caught the old man's attention before anything else was
the pool, which was in front of the villa and stretching for almost its
entire length, but it wasn't of course so much the pool itself that set his
aged heart thumping, but rather the array of staggeringly lovely creatures
lounging and lying and sunning themselves around it and in it.

There must have been ten of them, or perhaps even more -- all of them,
without exception, heartbreakingly handsome.It was as if he'd entered the
opening of the sexiest gay porn movie ever made, and one catering to his
own taste for lovely teenage boys -- a preference shared, presumably, by
the villa's lucky owner.  None was over twenty, he reckoned, and some
looked dangerously young.

Not one of them had a body that could be judged as anything less than
perfect -- some more muscled than others, but all of them toned and lean
and delectable.They must have been picked very carefully.

They were all naked. And, being boys,the old man couldn't help noticing,
their cocks seemed to be erect,or at least permanently semi-hard, as boys'
cocks often are. And who could blame them for their arousal? It was a
blisteringly hot day and they were all beautiful...

'Stop! You stop here!' squeaked pretty little Ilia, and the old man pulled
up and Ilia once again jumped from the car, this time running towards the
pool and some of the boys called to him and waved as he came amongst him
and they slapped him on the back and some even kissed him, laughing. He was
clearly a popular kid. Soon he was as appealingly naked as the rest of
them.

The old man scanned the collection of delectable youths for his beloved
Paneoti, but there was no sign of him...

to be continued...