Date: Tue, 16 Jan 2007 17:31:41 +0000
From: John <john@rabancourt.co.uk>
Subject: Yugoslav Flour Mill (Enc)

     [Some of this story is true!]

     In August 1964 I was hitchhiking up through 
Yugoslavia from Greece. It had been a long hot day with 
few lifts, and at lunchtime I found myself walking through 
a small dusty village. There was one shop, so I bought 
myself a cold drink, and continued through the village 
looking for somewhere to sit in the shade.
    On the outskirts of the village was a large factory, 
which appeared deserted. I sat on the wall opposite in the 
shade of a tree and drank from my bottle of orange. At 1 
o'clock a bell sounded and the factory doors opened. I 
couldn't believe my eyes!
    Out of the doors walked about 25 young men. All of 
them were stripped to the waist and sweaty, and were 
dressed in what looked like loincloths. They were all so 
similar that they might have been clones -- dark hairy 
chests, short dark stubble, and black hair. Their skin was 
dusted with what looked like flour, and on their heads 
each of them was wearing a hat made out of newspaper to 
keep the dust off their hair and out of their eyes.
    Beautiful muscles rippled in each of the similar bodies
-- they were all quite slim, and showed the beginnings of a 
six-pack, nicely rounded pecs and biceps, and tempting 
bulges at their crotches.
    They waved, smiling happily at this stranger, and I 
shouted my only words of Serbo-Croat, "Dobre dan!" 
[Good day!] To my great regret, they walked off into the 
distance.
    When the sun had gone down a bit and it was a little 
cooler I stood outside the village for ages waiting for a lift. 
That part of Yugoslavia was very poor, and few of the 
locals had cars. Most of my lifts had been with Italian 
businessmen. I was just beginning to despair, and thinking 
about camping for the night, when an ancient lorry roared 
into sight. My thumb waved urgently. It stopped!
    I ran to the passenger door, which opened on a sight that 
took my breath away -- one of the floury hunks, still in his 
loincloth and newspaper hat, still sweaty and dusted with 
flour. He moved his legs sideways and gestured for me to 
get in past him. I dumped my rucksack on the back shelf 
and slid into the middle of the long bench seat in the lorry. 
"Hvala," I said [Thank you], "Titograd?" (the name of the 
town I wanted to reach).
    "Da," [Yes] the driver replied. I hadn't looked at him 
yet, as I was too taken with staring at the young hunk next 
to me. The driver seemed a much older man, wizened and 
grey (though probably only in his 40s). He drove with one 
hand on the wheel, looking sideways at me, occasionally 
(not often!) glancing at the road through the all-obscuring 
dust and swearing at the chickens and goats that 
sometimes appeared in the road.
    The two men tried to converse with me, but I had 
already exhausted my meagre stock of Serbo-Croat 
phrases, and they didn't speak any English or German. I 
was totally wedged between them, and we settled down to 
a companionable, if very sweaty, silence. Fresh
male-sweat is an incredible aphrodisiac for me, and my 
teenage cock was soon throbbing in my shorts.
    After a while the older man said something to the 
younger, who glanced at me and said, "Ne" [No]. But he 
kept looking at me, and I noticed that his eyes were a 
beautiful deep brown. Again the driver said something to 
him, and this time the floury young man took my hand in 
his huge paw. I'd seen men throughout the Balkans 
wandering along holding hands -- it didn't seem to mean 
anything other than friendship -- but at the same time it 
made my cock pulse harder than ever.
    I glanced sideways at this gorgeous man, and saw sweat 
glistening on the long dark hairs peeking out from his pits. 
My mouth watered and my cock leaked.
    The older man repeated what he'd said earlier, and the 
young hunk looked round at me, and without letting go of 
my hand, ran his other hand up the inside of my bare right 
leg until his fingers reached the hem of my shorts. I 
whimpered, but (of course!) didn't make any attempt to 
stop him. A wet spot appeared on my shorts just where the 
pisshole was forced against the material. He noticed, and 
rubbed his thumb over that exact spot. I couldn't decide 
whether to groan, faint, or come!
    He tugged the leg hole of my shorts so that I slid further 
down in the seat, giving him access to my sweaty balls (I 
didn't wear underwear in such hot conditions). He tickled 
my balls lightly. I nearly died of lust. He grinned.
    Then action stepped up a notch, as he pulled my hand 
over his lap and closed my fingers round his totally hard, 
huge cock, imprisoned in his loincloth. He wriggled a bit, 
the waistband of his loincloth came loose, and he pushed it 
down to give me my first glimpse of his magnificent 
crotch. Totally straight, uncut, about 7 inches, not very fat, 
with a long droop of foreskin still covering the head even 
though he was completely erect. Below this sat two
egg-sized balls, covered with wiry black hair. A drop of 
clear pre-cum was resting in the tip of his foreskin.
    He grabbed my head and pulled me sideways until my 
mouth was just inches from his cockhead. The funky, 
musty, sexy smell of his crotch assailed my nose, and I 
breathed in as deeply as I could, feeling my own cock 
throb in sympathy. More force on the back of my head, 
and my mouth touched the bubble of pre-cum, which I 
slurped up eagerly. But he didn't stop, and carried on 
pushing my head down, so that all I could do was open my 
mouth and let his cock slide in (you can imagine how 
much I was resisting!)
    After that there was no stopping me. If the whole 
Yugoslav army had been watching I would still have 
inhaled his cock like a drowning man. (Come to think of 
it, if the whole Yugoslav army had been watching, I might 
have hoped that they would all get turned on enough so 
that they'd want to fuck my face!) Up and down my lips 
slid, and each time the tip was in my mouth he leaked 
another drop of luscious pre-cum, which I avidly 
swallowed.
    He was a fit young man, and had obviously not come 
for a couple of days, because after just a few minutes of 
this action he began to groan and thrust into my mouth, his 
cock swelling and the head forcing its way up through his 
foreskin. I licked round the smooth tasty tip of his cock 
each time my mouth raised up, making him moan loudly.
    Then he held my head quite still, the tip of his cock just 
inside my mouth, grunted quietly, and spurted over and 
over again until my mouth was completely full of his 
tangy essence. I didn't lose a drop. When his orgasm 
subsided he withdrew his cock slowly from my lips and I 
swallowed eagerly -- it took several gulps to get it all 
down -- and relaxed back into my seat (or as relaxed as I 
could be with a hard-on that was threatening to burst out 
of my shorts!)
    He grinned, ripped the zip of my shorts down, and fisted 
my cock hard, his big hand smashing into my balls on 
each down stroke. An agonized wail -- of pain and 
pleasure mixed -- came from my throat as each forceful 
stroke brought me closer and closer to explosion. Finally, 
just as his fist hammered my balls one more time, I yelled 
as I began to come.
    The first shot hit the windscreen and slithered down. 
The second hit the fascia in front of me, and the rest 
pooled on his hand as it continued to slide up and down 
my cock. That wonderful sexy smell of fresh teenage cum 
filled the cab of the lorry, and I collapsed back, completely 
spent.
    I had completely forgotten the driver, but looked round 
to see that he had his cock out of his trousers and had just 
come, too -- quite a good load. He reached round behind 
him and pulled out a towel, wiped his crotch and the 
windscreen with it and handed it to me. It was stiff and 
crusty, and had obviously been used for this purpose many 
times before. I cleaned myself up and passed it to the 
young man, but he was busy licking my hot spunk off his 
hand -- a much more satisfactory use for spunk than 
merely wiping it on a towel!
    Then he put his arm round me and I snuggled into his 
sweaty smelly armpit while the truck roared and bumped 
through the night. I must have fallen asleep almost 
immediately, but before we got to Titograd some four 
hours later, we had another session -- slower this time, and 
smaller loads from both of us, just as satisfying.
    It took me ages to brush all the white dust off my 
clothes ...