Date: Sun, 19 Aug 2007 08:34:13 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "The Cold Greek Boy Part One" by Jay Roberts    Gay SciFi/fantasy

==If your parent(s) or religion doesn't approve of this kind of story, and
if you are under 18 I politely ask you leave.  All others are welcome.


When I graduated college with a BA in Art History, I had a chance for a job
in a local museum, but I opted to take a trip to Europe and hope it would
be waiting for me.

I am twenty-two years old.  My name is Justin Applegate.  I am not exactly
gay because I have bedded some girls during the last four years, but on the
other hand, I have bedded almost forty boys during the same time.  Perhaps
I am gay, who knows, who cares as long as I am having fun.  Life is good
for a good looking guy, right?  I am not one of those beauties, but my red
hair always gets them, especially when they see it swirling around my cock.
I've got green/blue eyes, a cute nose and full pink lips.  I'm not a muscle
man, but years of work around my family farm has given me a pretty strong
looking body for my six foot frame.

My first stop was in Athens to the big museum and that is the setting for
this tale.  I fell in love in that museum, the saddest love you will ever
hear about.  It wasn't a crush on some boy or girl who ignored me, it was a
burning love for a Green Athlete who could never love me because he was a
statue.  This was carved out of pure alabaster during the golden era of
Ancient Greek art.  It depicted a boy of late teens.  He was life size.
There is no flaw in his body.  Every curve made my breath catch.  That
buttocks, the flat belly, the pectorals, the arm muscle, the shapely legs,
even the perfect feet were not only beautiful but sexy.

The poor boy had one imperfection: his penis had been truncated and only
the base near the body was extant.  How could anyone defile this work of
art?  I decided to forgo the rest of my trip and spent most of it right
here, in this museum, in this gallery, in front of this stone boy.

I knew every nuance in his body.  At first I was shy to examine him so
closely.  I had the crazy idea that I might annoy him, but his classic face
with the strong nose, his curly mouth, short upper lip and massed hair
waves remained unperturbed.  No crease appeared on his smooth forehead.
Once I almost thought I saw his white, marble tongue peek out of the center
of his puffy lips, but it must have been a trick of shadows.

I am almost ashamed to admit that often I had a strong erection just from
being close to him.  A few times, when the attendant was turned away, I
stroked his perky backside and traced the deep cleft between the cheeks.
Another time, I stroked his nipples.  I longed to put my arms around him,
but that would surely cause a riot.

Then a wonderful thing happened.  I went to the gift store for the first
time.  They had small reproductions of the Greek Athlete.  I spoke to the
male sales clerk.  I could see that he saw me for what I was, a gay boy
smitten with a statue.  "Yes many of our patrons buy pictures of the
statue.  I know you wish you could take him home with you," he said,
stroking his luxuriant moustache.  He smelled from garlic, but was not half
bad looking.  "We do offer an exact replica molded from the original
statue.  However, it is quite expensive and shipping to America might be
prohibitive."  I had $3,000 US budgeted for the trip, none of it spent.  I
asked the price.  Surprisingly it was, including the shipping, far less
than I thought.  It was crazy, but I went ahead and ordered it.

After I signed the order, Peter, the store guy put his arm around me.  I
was about to shrug him off, but his words kept me entranced.  "Sir, you
ought to know the common belief here: that molded copies of statues retain
the spirit of the original."

I decided to discontinue the trip and head back home to be there for the
Greek Boy's arrival.  I had rented a studio apartment in New York City and
that was the address I gave to the museum shipping office.

I was exhausted from the long plane ride and the hassle of getting a cab
this late at night.  I finally arrived at the upper West Side apartment
building, not one of the best, but I was lucky to have even snagged my
efficiency.  When the elevator stopped on the fourth floor and I dragged my
cases around the bend, there stood, in front of my door, a coffin like
crate, standing on end.  I hoped poor Andreas (the name I decided on) was
feet first in the crate.  I propped my apartment door open with my bags and
dragged the wooden box in side.  Finally I got my bags in and then closed
the door.  I looked wildly around the kitchen for something to open the
crate.  Oh how I wish I had a claw hammer.  Finally I took a chance on
ruining my good knife and was able more easily than I thought to pry off
the smooth, large headed nailed.  I got all the nails on one side of the
top open and then I got my fingers in and lifted and pulled with all the
strength I had.

The lit came loose suddenly and sent me sprawling on the floor. I sat up
and there was Andreas looking at me (with amusement? No a trick of
lighting.)  The reproduction, though plaster, looked exactly like the
marple one. For a wild moment I thought they had made a mistake and sent
the original.  As a gay boy naturally I check the crotch area.  Sadly poor
Andreas still had the results of an over enthusiastic circumcision.

Yikes, he was heavy.  I reached my arms inside the cushioned box and threw
them around his middle and lifted.  Again he came loose and I fell
backwards with Andreas lying across me. I didn't mind.  In a crazy gesture
I put my arms around his neck and kissed his cold elegant Greek lips.  I
held the kiss a long time and gradually became aware that the lips were
warm and that they were kissing back.  I drew away in alarm.  The white
plaster was slowly turning to normal flesh color.  The perfect cheeks
flushed with pink, the eyes opened and finally through the lips came a
sweet adolescent voice, a little hoarse, as though his puberty was not
complete.

"Oh Justin.  Thank you for rescuing me.  I was getting pretty stiff
standing there all these years.  Of course, (he smiled with small pearly
teeth) when I say stiff, I refer to my muscles not my poor prick.  But if
you notice.  It is whole again.  Some silly girl broke it off.  She was mad
at all men.  I wonder what she did with it, a dildo?  You know, this isn't
even my original model penis, although it is very nice.  The sculptor had
four or five models and he held them up against my crotch.  He finally
decided on a medium sized one, felt it was more believable.  Actually I
could have had a monumental one (there must be a joke there.)  Incidentally
your sticker is pretty substantial.  I judge this from the time you leaned
against my hip and rubbed it off on me."


I sat there on my haunches, my mouth open, my eyes bugging out.  "Andreas
that never happened."

"Call me Andy.  Andreas is so old fashioned."

"Andy, I can't believe that I am talking to a boy who was a moment ago a
plaster statue.  Am I dreaming, or what?"

"No it's true.  You are a down to earth American.  Lots of them talk in
front of my marble self.  You guys think everything is sane and sensible.
You don't believe in fantastical occurrences."

"I sure do now.  Hey, you want something to eat, do you need to use the
bathroom."

"No to both.  My bladder is solid and I don't eat, at least for 3000 years,
sort of a fast."  He laughed merrily.  "Say Justin, you are my savior and I
love you for that, but I also have a little crush on you since you spent so
much time looking at me....and also feeling me up.  It was all I could do
not to moan in passion."

"Say Andy.  I did fall for you.  I guess you know that you are a masculine
ideal."

"Of course I know.  That's why my uncle sculpted me, but of course, now
that you can see me in the flesh, you know that he failed to capture all of
my, say allure.  You think?"

"You are the perfection of perfection.  There is no man on Earth, living or
dead, or will be born who can compare to you.  I am still smitten with you
and now that you are alive, I wonder if I might do more than pat your cold
body."

"Of course big brother.  I can see you are pouched out there.  I take that
as a compliment and hope in investigate the possibilities soon....maybe
tonight.  May I share your couch, or rather bed as you call it.  I can
anoint you with oils and please you."

"Oh shit Athenian guy, you are taking my breath away.  Do I take it that
you are gay."

"In old Athens, we did not have such a word, but men were pleased to lie
with pretty girls and pretty boys.  They were not equal, but they formed
two sides of a sexual circle.  Say, do you suck cock?  I ask because I do
like that."

"Yes I do, but you shouldn't ask yet, let's build up to that."

"By Zeus, I am hot for sex.  Do not be an American prig.  Take off your
garments, lie on your bed and let's proceed."

The strangeness of having a conversation with a former statue had unnerved
me, had sapped by dignity and my ability to think for myself.  This paragon
of all male beauty could call the shots as far as I was concerned.  I slid
out of my clothes in record time and stood there, shall we say, like a
statue, allowing myself to be examined.

"Excellent.  Absolutely better than I dreamed from your visits to the
gallery.  Yes, your cock is meaty and strong.  I admire your flanks and
butt.  Some against me and let us, as your Americans say, make out."

He threw his young muscular arms around me and pressed my face into his
warm chest.  He ground his trunk against mine, effectively rubbing cocks.
His was heavily sheathed, mine was circumcised, but they made friends
rapidly, both becoming filled with blood and sensation.  Andy had a sweet
way of breathing, almost a sigh, like the wind.  I tended to moan like a
bitch.

Andy turned me around on my stomach and began to nibble around my ass
cheeks.  I like that.  That is a nice thing for him to do.  My nether
cheeks relaxed revealing my red haired decorated ass hole and the warm area
that guarded it.  Although Andy said he wasn't hungry he drove in hungrily;
He nibbled the cheeks, he made long licks along the trace and finally he
produced his long Grecian tongue and entered my private realm.  I began
singing with the thrill of it.  Suddenly he stopped all motion.  He leaned
around and spoke in my ear.  "Sweet admiring American college guy, I yearn
to place myself inside your heaving body, to bring you ancient pleasure.
May I begin?"

Now I had been corn holed back on the farm when I was thirteen, but that
was Clem's little boy cock.  This was serious business Andy was suggesting.
Besides, a part of my worried about "giving it up".  I had planned to make
love to this beauty, not be ravished by him.  Still my mind was in a spin.
How could I deny anything to this clean limbed sweetheart.  "Okay Greek
Boy, but please be very careful and slow, I am a coward when it comes to
pain."

"Thank you dear friend.  I will not cause you pain.  You will wonder at my
gentleness and soon you will ask me to be less gentle, then strong and
finally rough."

"I doubt that, but I'm half ready.  Start before I lose all my resolve."

He took hold of my hips and with sureness pulled them up so that my ass was
up and exposed.  Then he arranged my shoulders so that they were supported
by my elbows.  I almost said, "Doctor, will this hurt?"

He put his lips on the back of my neck, the place where I was beginning to
sweat copious and he licked it and kissed it, humming while he did it.  It
was so loving, I began to relax, but then the blunt instrument was seeking
admittance to my inner body.  Instinctively I sealed the door.  He changed
his position and began tonguing my hole, using his slippery tongue like a
penis. I began to push back to get more of the wonderful feeling.  Then in
a flash he was back with his battering ram, this time my hole opened in
spite of me and he put only the head in.  It felt all right.  We both
stopped all movement.  I knew he was waiting for me to invite him in.  I
whispered, "Andy, you may come in a little more, but stop if I say so."

He moved in about three inches.  Now I felt as if I had to shit. My whole
rear end of blocked with his organ.  He didn't proceed, but he wiggled it
and at that moment he rubbed the magic spot inside my rectum, "Ooooh," came
out of me without realizing it.  It was a sound of surprise and thrill as
electric currents went up and down my spine.

"I am making you happy my lover, I know.  Enjoy every moment and do not
suppress your job, scream with passion, it will only make me happier.  What
would you like me to do next?"

I groaned out, "Push in deeper then pull out a bit and repeat that."

He laughed in joy.  "That would be, I think, called fucking you.  Do you
want to be fucked?

"Please young god, stop your sophistry and get busy, I'm on the brink of
finding heaven."

He certainly didn't need any further encouragement to ignore me and take
care of his longing to go through all the wonderful stages leading to a
cum.  He moved deep and slow, crooning in my ear as he buzzes started.
Then he made short jabs orchestrated by yelps of pleasure, then moaning
loudly and gabbing my cock he began to really fuck.  All the way out and
slam in, over and over again, seeking to find his lost orgasm.  Then with
an ear shattering scream, that I joined, we were both there.  I decorated
my bed with my spooge, but Andy, he had saved up 3000 years of cum.  I came
again as he delivered his sperm enema.  Shit, that's what it was.

We both fell apart, breathing like spent race horses.  Finally he spoke, I
couldn't.  "That was good.  I am finished for the night.  Let us sleep."
And so saying, he began regular breathing.  I was still too stimulated to
immediately fall asleep.  I snuggled up against his warm moist body and
that calmed me.  I slipped into a dreamless sleep.  I probably could have
slept more, but the buzzer from the downstairs door interrupted.  I got up
to speak on the intercom, stopping a minute to look down at the sleeping
god, his pretty chin resting on his arm muscle, his light brown curls damp
from innocent sleep.

"Hello, who is this?"

"It's your future lover, Alex."

"Oh Alex, it isn't convenient.  Could I call you on the phone later?

"Too late, someone just came in and I have my foot holding open the lobby
door.  I'll just run up the stairs.  Meet me at the door with a hard on"

Who is Alex, you ask?  He's a college bud.  We have never had sex, but not
from his not trying.  He keeps pitching and I keep blocking.  He says our
relationship is a hockey game and I am the goalie.

What is he like?  If he was a dog, he's be collie, big, rangy, shaggy and
cute as fuck.  But now I must hide Andy.  I rushed into the bedroom.  He
was jerking off.  "Hey quit that.  I have someone coming up.  Can you go
into the closet" (Perhaps a poor choice of words.)

He grinned at me and dropped his tool, and headed for the closet, waving
grandly at me as he closed the door.  At that moment Alex was banging on my
front door.

End of Part One

Do Alex and Andy form a duo?  The names sound like a cabaret act.  If they
do, can Justin stand by and just watch?  Don't close the zipper yet. Read
Part Two.