Hellenic Electrical

After several months in my gift shop, the one thing that always irked me was the substandard lighting in the store. As my business began to flourish, I promised myself that I would eventually address this issue.

This is the story of how that happened:

One night at the bar I always frequented, as I was bemoaning the lighting issue, a man sitting near me told me about a guy who, according to him, was the ideal person to do the job. Naturally, I got the details from him and phoned Chris, the man he had recommended, the following morning.

When Chris arrived a day later, he handed over his business card after introducing himself as Chris. The name on the card was Christos Anastas. Of course, I instantly realized that was a name of Greek origin and insisted on using his proper name.

Christos was one of the most extraordinary men I had met in a very long while. He was thickset and had the most expressive huge brown eyes I had ever seen. Added to that, his eyes were surrounded by thick black eyelashes, which almost seemed unnaturally abundant.

Christos was also extremely hairy. Apart from an epic moustache, his face was covered with thick dark stubble. His broad hands had clumps of dark hair on his knuckles and the bald dome of his head was surrounded by an ample laurel of short black hair. I was instantly turned on by him and had a hard time remaining calm. The hair sprouting from his chest in the open v of his unbuttoned polo shirt and his hairy legs visible from below his jean shorts gave him an almost simian quality. I couldn’t help myself from fantasizing about what he looked like totally naked. In addition, being a lover of sweaty guys, the large damp patches under his arms almost had me salivating.

As we discussed my lighting requirements I got the distinct impression that he knew what he was talking about. Christos then promised to visit me late the following day, to show me how effective one of the clusters of spotlights that he had in mind would actually be. Without hesitation, I accepted his offer.

Late the following day, after arriving, when he installed the first of these clusters and I instantly knew that it was going to be perfect. Christos then sat opposite me as I watched his thick hairy hands writing out my quote. Unbeknownst to him, I was prepared to pay him any price that he was going to quote. Fortunately, however, it was less than I expected.

After I had paid my fifty percent deposit, Christos told me that he could do the work two days hence and as he worked on his own, the job would take a day and a half.

That night my mind went into a spin fantasizing about the stud that was about to do my lighting and I almost dismembered myself with excitement, as I tugged on my dick.

As I mostly had lunch in my apartment upstairs in the building at lunchtime, I decided to pull out the stops and make lunch for us on the first day of Christos’ assignment. I had therefore prepared moussaka the night before, which was no problem for me as it was a favourite dish of mine.

After he arrived to do the job I assisted him as much as I could.

When we went upstairs for lunch, Christos was very complimentary about my apartment. I could also clearly tell that the homoerotic art in my apartment garnered his interest.

During lunch, Christos told me that his parents were both second-generation Greek American’s and that his grandparents had emigrated to America sixty years before. Although he did speak Greek, he admitted that he wasn’t as fluent as his grandmother believed he should be. Christos was in his late twenties, married, and had a son and a daughter.

Not long after relating his history, the inevitable question I had been awaiting, was finally asked.

“Are you gay?”

I then gave a history of my failed marriage to Pierre and how I came to own the shop. With a smile, Christos then told me that in Greek, gay guys are referred to as; Poustis Mallorca’s.

Unable to resist, I joked about the well-documented Greek history of lenience towards homosexuality.

“We are no longer the famous warriors we were over two thousand years ago, so the gay Greek thing is merely a myth,” he stated with a smile, but quickly added, “I’m not saying, however, that you don’t get Greek guys that indulge in homosexual activities.”

Although I was somewhat disheartened by his reply, once we returned downstairs to resume our work, there was a marked difference in his attitude toward me and I often caught him staring at me.

At the end of the first day, the new lighting was really taking shape and I could already see an unbelievable improvement.

When I asked Christos if he wanted to join me for a beer before leaving, he accepted the invitation and immediately phoned his wife to tell her he would be late.

Upstairs, as we sat in the lounge he said, “I am envious of you gay guys because you men can go at it at the drop of a hat. For us straight married guys, having sex is always an ordeal.”

“What do you mean?” I innocently asked.

“Well, as you have seen I am very hairy and if I wanted to keep my face clean and free of this stubble,” he indicated by rubbing his chin, “Then I would literally have to shave morning and night.”

After a sip of his beer, he continued, “So, if I want sex at night, then after dinner I need to send a signal to my wife by having a shower and shaving my face. Although this often works, it is still not a guarantee that we will fuck that night. In addition, I am quite a sweaty guy and so when I am on the job, if I get too clammy she starts to whine. As you can imagine, that’s a real passion killer.”

“Wow, that’s terrible,” I answered in commiseration.

Christos simply shrugged in acceptance of my reply.

“How do you feel about sweatiness?” he then asked.

Going for broke, I replied, “I like hot sweaty sex, and hairiness doesn’t worry me at all.”

As Christos smiled at my reply, he then chuckled before concluding, “Worst of all, my wife has never given me a blowjob.”

“That’s a specialty of mine,” I quickly countered.

Christos’ face was now alive with interest as he asked, “Are you also into anal?”

“That’s my absolute best and the rougher the better,” I answered with a horny grin.

Christos was now literally hyperventilation with lust. As he stood up he began unzipping his jeans.

“So, Poustis, do you want to show me what you’ve got,” he asked.

Having come this far, I impishly decided to take control of the situation, determined to get the full benefit of our encounter.

“I will, on one condition,” I answered.

With an apprehensive look on his face, he asked, “What is the condition?”

“I want to see you fully naked,” I replied.

With a chuckle, Christos then sat down and removed his boots and socks. As I had hoped, his broad feet were glorious. He then removed his shirt before pushing his jeans and underpants down.

The vision before me was spectacular. And I even had the cheek to ask him to turn his body around so I could get a really good look at him. Christos had a thick meaty cock, just as I imagined it would be.

After I got up off my chair I also swiftly removed all my clothes, before moving toward him.

“Now I want you to lift your arms and put your hands behind your head,” I cheekily demanded.

“Why?” he asked with a confused frown.

“Because I want to show you what I think of your sweaty armpits,” I hornily countered.

After he did what I asked I moved in and nestled my face in his left pit before ardently licking it.

“Jesus, oh, god, Fuck yeah, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Christos instantly began to intone.

“Mmmm, it tastes fuckin’ awesome,” I informed him.

En-route to the second pit, my mouth delayed on his chest as my teeth nibbled on both of his nipples. As I did so, Christos’ trembling body began to shudder with excitement. After finally dispensing with the other armpit, my head moved downward as my tongue licked his hairy torso before encompassing his knob. At this point, Christos was shaking so animatedly, that I was afraid he was about to fall over. Clamping onto my head, however, he steadied himself before solidly face-fucking me.

Christos frequently stopped, not wanting to cum too quickly, but ultimately lifted me up and after placing me over the back of my couch, began hammering my arse vigorously. Thankfully, I didn’t mind because I was well-used to Bull, my other lover in the town who always ‘abused’ my manhole when he fucked me.

“Do you like this Mallorca?” he barked.

“Fuck, yes, go for it.” I pleaded.

With my sofa moving forward with Christos’ animated momentum, my hole got a severe hammering before he unloaded. It was fuckin’ brilliant.

As he was leaving later, he said, “Well, at least I won’t have to shave tonight.”

The following day, Christos finished the job by noon and my shop lighting was magnificent. After paying him in full we went upstairs for the sandwiches I had prepared for lunch. That afternoon, with time to kill, we had a very prolonged session in my bedroom. The sex was incredible.

Christos was very forthright before departing, inquiring if he could pop in at lunchtime in the future for a quickie. Naturally, I was very accommodating by answering in the affirmative.

Thereafter, I often saw Christos and it was always fantastic when he visited.

After he left, I took a long shower thinking about Bull. Being a Friday evening, I was excited about his arrival a little later.

Authors Note:

I formerly wrote three stories situated in the same place and about the same protagonist, who has sex with three different men. These stories do not have to be read sequentially because each story deals with a completely unique sexual partner. Should you, however, be interested, the other three stories are: Salad Dressing, Bull, and The Delivery Guy.

I simply couldn’t resist adding a fourth story to that trilogy.