K
Kennick
Guest
Tassos and I were sitting in the bus driving back to Naxos-town. Outside we just had a comforting darkness that kindly hid the outside world and shielded us from whatever distraction. We both had a sunburn worth of every letter of the word itself, but my skin didn't only burn and sting from the sun, I felt his heat emanating from his body, I longed to brush over his legs and his pecs, yet every so often when the bus driver took the curves with too much speed our arms or shoulders touched and instead of feeling pain I had the sensation of velvet on my skin. In the respectful darkness outside and the dimmed light inside the bus I reached over and touched his hand, unfolded his fingers and held it. I looked the other way and sensed that he didn't know how to react on such a gesture of tenderness, his palm and his fingers moved as if they had to hold something unknown or something possibly dangerous, then decided to get a good grip of the foreign object and locked around my hand. Tassos hadn't hesitated a second too long, the moment his grip tightened I felt reliefed and let a sigh go, when I felt a light blowing on my shoulder. My head spun around and he turned his casually away trying to make out a darker shadow outside in the pitchblack darkness. He liked to play, he liked to tease me, he seemed to enjoy the little game of getting closer we were playing.
Only shortly before we got off the bus followed by the well-meant comment of the bus-driver that we had a terrible sun-burn and that we should get us some Greek yoghurt to put on the skin to prevent further damage. We nodded something between thanks, good idea, I know and if you say so and headed back to the medieval part of Naxos-town, where both our pensions were. We dropped by in a little shop (they had called it nanomarket, as if this could be the only answer to super- or hypermarket!), got us some Greek yoghurt and as I counted the money unconsciously in German the owner told his wife in Greek that the tourists would never know how to get a decent tan and would all die of skin cancer. Tassos cleared his throat, but I paid for both, turned to him, told him in German to follow me and nodded towards the door. He understood my gesture, but not my words, the owners understood nothing and started to comment on how rude tourists could be not even to know enough Greek to say goodnight etc. Tassos followed me with clenched teeth and greeted my glance outside with reproaches. Revenge is a dish best served cold, I told him, smiled at his irritated next glance and we headed again towards our pensions. We entered the minuscule street that seperated the back part of my pension with only my window looking at the front of his pension and slowed down our steps. The big "and-now-what" was pending over our heads. He said that the owner of his pension was a noisy and annoying woman in her frustrated fifties with not enough relatives to boss and shove around and that it would be highly suspicious to bring a "friend" home.
The temperature fell for at least 25°C, I started to shiver and my right hand unconsciously had to touch the reassuring wall of my pension. 'Wait a minute, what was that?', the inner voice inside of me demanded to know. Mr. sexy-and-seducing-Tassos was afraid of a mouthy pension owner he would never meet again and felt ashamed of me? What are you aiming at, Kennick?, asked another voice inside of me, you know where this might lead to and are you prepared to go all the way, do you really want this, wouldn't it be safer to date him for tomorrow, wouldn't it be better to make a decisive cut now and never see him again? Tassos slightly touched the shoulder he had caressed with his breath inside the bus and suddenly this square-centimetres stang as if a swarm of bees had stung me, I backed of and felt my heart racing and my head spinning, but the voices inside of my head had formed a choir and kept asking me, what I wanted to do now? My left hand wiped over my face trying to get rid of this spinning sensation and this confusing veil of voices, I made a step forward, reached for Tassos' head with both my hands, drew it closer, told him to follow me, please, and kissed him hard on his dried lips. His answer was immediate, his tongue wet his and my lips and when the kiss broke apart I took him by his hand and we walked the street back, turned around the corner and entered my pension where nobody was sitting at the lobby and was asking awkward questions. We went up to my room, the voices inside of me had vanished and a slightly growing feeling moving upwards from my groins reached for my stomach and filled it with a strange and wild pleasure. I unlocked the door and the room greeted us with his eloquent silence and understood our desire not to be asked.
Without having said a word we found ourselves under the shower, washing carefully of the sand of our now red glowing skin. Every droplet of water felt like a ice-cube in the first second and then glistened downwards getting warm and warmer. Strangely enough everyone was concentrating on washing himself thoroughly and we didn't seem to notice one another. I thought that I had had enough of water and I intended to put some après sun lotion and some yoghurt on my skin, turned and wanted to get out of the shower. Wait. He slightly touched the blade of my left shoulder, I leaned into his hand, as if only his hand could prevent me from falling and turned my head towards him. What? Let me help you with your washing, come back inside. I wanted to turn around and show him my fast growing cock, but he asked me to turn my back to him. That was too much. Something inside of me shattered and I cried, I cried out of angst, I cried out of frustration, I cried out of irritation, I cried to calm myself down and I sobbed. Tassos put his hands around my shoulders, leaned over my left shoulder again, kissed my ear-lobe and whispering he asked me not to be afraid that he would only help me to wash my butt and that he would do nothing, absolutely nothing that would harm me or without my consent.
The kiss he gave me on my tear-wet cheek sealed his promiss and my tears stopped as suddenly as they had broken free. His left hand reached for my left glutaeus, moved downwards to the back of the thigh, upwards again, until it found the small of my back and took the same way on the right side. Everytime the hand changed the side, it came closer to my crack and my cock was kicking, throbbing and aching badly out of excitement. At some point instead of following the line of my crack, the hand reached between my inner thighs, touched my pouch and from there it moved back following this tendermost part of my pelvis that I had neglected so far. Never will I forget this prickling, careful, firm and tender movement that promissed me again not to harm me, not to do me ill, not to betray my trust. It must have been his left ring finger that first touched my hole and it surely was his right hand that touched the rim around my gland, his voice that whispered, that love would mean to trust and trust would mean to rely on someone's words, his nipples rock hard that pierced the skin of my back and his breath that caressed my left cheek. His ring finger managed to get inside, I tightened even more, panted, trembled, even tried to move sideways and away from him, when his voice tore down my last inner wall of hesitation and run through my head singing, trust me and love me. I opened up, his fingertip found my prostate, slightly greeted it with the most gentle touch, whilst his right hand was circling around the corona of my gland that was by now fully blossomed and almost bursting. His middle finger slipped inside and joined his ring finger, but now there was some more pressure and more movement inside of me, around me and on me. His right hand seemed to be everywhere at the same time, on my pecs and needlessly hardening my frosted nipples, on my groin and caressing the tender skin there, inside my navel and around my pouch, his thumb inside my greedily sucking mouth, stroking the top most part of my six pack and along my claviculae, touching my chin and following the shaft of my hard cock towards my groins. Tassos sped up a bit more his movements of his fingers inside of me, cupped my gland, kissed my left ear-lobe again and let his voice plead me to trust and to love him. My
broke through his fingers with 5 or 6 hot jets and inside me speedily spread out the most pleasant feeling of lightheadedness, of a strange awareness of colours and sounds and of a growing need and hunger for more: With my left hand I took his right and licked my off, washed my mouth with a deep sip of water that was still falling upon us, turned around and saw him crying silently, losing one tear after the other, with a slightly trembling lower lip. He had too (I hadn't noticed his erection at all!) and his nectar was making his way downwards his six-pack heading for the safety of his pubic hair. What made you trust me, he murmured through the silence of his tears, never again did I without even touching myself, by only stimulating somebody else, why did you trust me?Both my hands cupped his beautifully sculpted face, my thumbs caressed his cheeks, my lips found his, sucked his slightly, rubbed again his lips and kissed him over and over again. I washed his
off, I turned off the water, reached for a towel, put it around his now visibly shaking shoulders, wiped off the louder falling tears and took him by the hand to my bed. He laid down, turned on his tummy and now he cried as I did before. What should I tell him, how could I explain him something I never had experienced before, how could I guide him through a thrilling darkness I had only entered on his invitation and on his affirmation that there would be no risk, no danger, no harm for me. I sat next to him on my so far narrow-thought bed, which seemed to be double king-size to me now, put me hand on the small of his back, trailed upwards his vertebral column and reaching his neck, I leaned forward, blew a light kiss of his neck and said with a clear and firm voice that I sensed that I could blindly trust him, a pair of words that I had rarely combined before, that I sensed how much he wanted to let me feel what he loved to feel, that I had understood his anticipation of seeing my orgasm, that I had wanted to be a part of his erotic world and that, this that never left my lips and I didn't have the chance to say it that or any later moment. Tassos had stopped to cry, had looked up to me, had put his right hand on my inner right thigh and had put his left index finger on my lips to seal them. He wanted to sleep with me in the same bed and to wake up with me in the morning, whether I would object to that? Yes, unless, he would explain to me what he would have done, if I hadn't taken him to my room in my pension, and whether that had made him cry in the first place. I needed no further answer, his lower lip that trembled barely visible was answer enough for me to assume first and to know then that he had been afraid of loosing me so suddenly, that he had been overwhelmed by my trust and by my excitation and that he had never experienced that before. He stood up, regaining with every step he made his control over himself, fetched the yoghurt and the après sun (his left eye brow only moved a quarter of an inch upwards, when I told him were to find it inside my bag, but my stern glance cut off any comment of his and only a possibly friendly, possibly curious, possibly mocking smile adorned his face on his way back to my bed), I applied some of the après sun on his face, which seemed to have an immediate cooling effect, some of the yoghurt on his pecs and six-pack and again some après sun on his legs, groins, cock, pouch and butt.He did exactly the same procedure with me, as if this was the only way to survive the night, huddled up in front of me, so that I cupped him from behind, reached for my left hand and put it across his now relaxed, yet very promissing cock. Answering to an unasked question Tassos said that he would love to wake up in the morning and have a big hand on his long, fat, throbbing cock. My clearing of the throat made him turn around and throw me a curious glance, how often this had happened to him, I wanted to know with a very crisp voice that wouldn't excuse any white lies. Never, but he had always dreamed of that and that would always make him
in the morning, the idea of having a man behind him, jerking his erect cock, milking him and caressing with the other hand his spine. He bit his lower lip, as if he had said too much, but looked steadily on my face, seeking for an answer. I smirked and said that I would love to be the first one to hold his long, fat, throbbing cock in my big hand in the morning and to jerk and milk him, unless he wouldn't mind to... Now he smiled back and nodded in silent aggreement. He would plow me in the morning, carefully, tenderly, without mercy, forcefully and letting me see heaven for the first time.
