The place I had rented for two weeks was private in all respects. It was high up towards the top of an ancient village, surrounded by empty land and ruins and concealed by a walled courtyard. Just right for nude sunbathing and wandering around naked. I was taking a year out from college to explore some of the world and had gotten as far as this remote Greek island before deciding to stop for longer than just one night. As soon as I'd got off the ferry I was approached by an army of locals waving signs advertising rooms to rent and it was easy to find one I wanted. I headed straight for the only girl among the touts. Dark haired, slim and with welcoming eyes she asked me quietly if I needed somewhere to stay. She told me it was high up, away from the tourists and that it was cheap. The remoteness sounded inviting to me and I imagined her visiting to make the beds, maybe staying after to unmake them with me too, if you see what I mean.

Then she introduced me to her father and she passed me over to him as if I was a bag of shopping. Before I had a chance to flirt or even ask her name, she was back into the crowd of new arrivals touting for business again. The father grunted something at me in Greek and indicated a truck. As I started to climb up into the back with my rucksack he took my luggage from me and lifted it in as if it weighed nothing. I was mainly full of college books I had yet to read and they weighed a ton. Before he could give me the same treatment I scrambled in, afraid that if he lifted me in his grip I'd be crushed. He was at least six foot, about forty five years old I'd say judging from the flecks of grey in his moustache, but his muscles practically ripped his shirt as he manoeuvred my rucksack into the flat bed.

I smiled as best I could, already worrying about where he was going to take me, and what he might do. I'm pretty tough, I work out and play football, but there was no way I could defend myself against the father should he turn nasty.

But I needn't have worried. He drove me up through an enchanting village, honking his horn at the locals and waving from the cab. He seemed pleasant enough, and when we reached the house he was as charming as you could wish for. He showed me around, agreed the very low price his daughter had promised, and told me that he could always be found in the village if I needed anything.

Two days later I ran out of water. I had got to know my way around by then and had no trouble tracking him down in the village. I explained that the tap had suddenly run dry and asked what I could do about it. He told me, in broken English, that the house occasionally had this problem but it required him to come and fix it. He would come up in the afternoon, if I could manage until then. We made an arrangement that I would leave the front door open and he could let himself in. He'd only need about ten minutes to do something with the water pump outside and then he'd be off, shutting the doors behind him so I'd know he had been.

That sorted I went back to the house to collect my things for the beach. It was September, the weather was still hot and, coming from the cold climbs of North Yorkshire, I was not used to such heat. It drained my body, emptied me of moisture and, since being in Greece, had led me to understand why the locals took siestas in the hottest part of the day. By the time I'd returned to the house and packed my beach bag it was just after noon and my body was weary. The beach was a mile away and by foot, at that time of day, was a hard slog to get to and from.

I decided that I would go later. Right then I needed a sleep. I could wake up feeling refreshed later in the afternoon and the heat would have died a little. I threw my soaked tee shirt onto the chair and flopped onto the bed. Remembering that the landlord might call I decided to keep my shorts on. He shouldn't need to come into the bedroom but just in case...

Before long, drowsiness came over me and I felt myself drifting. Far away I could just make out the sound of birds chattering, a goat bleating somewhere on the mountain above and the occasional vehicle passing in the valley far below. Through approaching sleep my mind flashed up images of the daughter wading out of the cool sea, her hair falling long across her shoulders, water dripping from her breasts and running in little streams down her soft, naked flesh. My cock was pressing against the bed beneath me but it would have to wait until I woke up. Maybe I'd have more dreams of her as I slept and would wake with new images I could recall when I beat myself off later.

I don't know what I dreamt about but whatever it was, it was interrupted by a sound from the next room. I didn't jump up in panic, I knew it would only be the dad come to fix the water and allowed myself to remain in that half sleep where you know what is going on around you but couldn't be bothered to do anything about it. Almost paralysed in a numb, contented way. And then I drifted back into afternoon dreams.

I heard breathing in the room; someone was standing behind me, over me and watching me. I heard a quiet cough and ignored it. It was o.k. Only the landlord letting me know he'd finished and was leaving. I heard the rustle of material and a gentle clatter of a belt buckle. The dull thud of boots being kicked off and discarded. More breathing and then the sound of clothing being dropped to the floor.

The mattress beneath me moved as if someone was putting weight on it and I dipped slightly to one side, and then the other. Someone was kneeling at the foot of the bed. But dreams are meant to be like this I thought; real and yet safe. New experiences happen in dreams and, because they're not real it doesn't matter. I drifted further into the comfort of sleep feeling only a presence behind me and security that I was in safe hands.

Hands that touched the soles of my feet and slid them to one side, parting my legs gently, and allowing cool air to explore around the tops of my legs where my football shorts hung soft and silky around my thighs. Cooling air that dried the sweat gathering behind my knees and chilled my flesh. I felt my ankles get taken in large rough skinned, wide hands that gripped just tightly enough to pin my legs to the bed. And the hands started to slide upwards, gently massaging my muscles, sending me further into nowhere land and sending shivers of pleasure through my sleeping body. They reached the back of my knees and a strong finger pressed into the flesh there. I'd never felt a sensation like that before, either asleep or awake and it felt good. A stronger, tougher finger joined it and made small circles, all the time pressing and massaging.

And then I felt the hands slide further up until they gripped my upper legs, just below my shorts. The tips of the rough fingers slid in under the material and played on me, one after the other in a slow rhythm, pressing one at a time in sequence. The hands started kneading me there; a little more pressure was applied as they moved higher up under the material until they pressed on the bottom of my cheeks, sliding to the sides as if to feel everything that was there. The hair on the back of my legs was standing up now, something was telling me that this dream was going in the wrong direction and that I should wake up. But another part of me was being lulled, hypnotised by the gentle stroking of rough hands, sending me further into a place I'd never been before and I was enjoying it.

My shorts were being taken down. My cock, still rock hard, was pressing its circumcised head against the waste band, caught there as the shorts were dragged away. My arse lifted of its own accord, freeing my cock and allowing the shorts to be removed completely. I felt the hands start at my ankles again, slowly sliding up the back of my legs until they held one cheek apiece. There they paused, holding my arse in a strong, not to be resisted, grip.

Something made me part my legs further. I don't know if I did that or if the unseen dream-force moved them but they spread. And I knew that the hands were spreading the crack of my arse and opening it to the afternoon air and allowing the unseen visitor to get a full view of my flesh, my light blonde hair covering the white, smooth skin that gave way to a darker recess where my tight hole was now being watched.

And then these big hands were on my sides, holding me by the hips as two powerful thumbs rolled and massaged my arse cheeks, pulling me open and then pushing me closed as I felt myself being lifted from the bed. This inside of my legs brushed against something else, something new. I felt coarse hairs scrape at my skin as I was pulled back and up, felt hard muscles against my inner thigh while all the time the vice like grip that controlled me allowed no resistance, and yet the grip was gentle and careful.

I realised something. Through my sleep I knew what was going on and I knew that I should wake up. But I also knew that it was too late. I stood no chance of escape even if I was awake. Asleep I could imagine that this was still a dream and that this was not happening.

But when I felt breath on my arse cheeks I knew it was happening. I kept my eyes closed and I kept still. Allowing him, as it was definitely a him, to do whatever he was going to do. It didn't matter; I was asleep so this was not happening.

The breath suddenly became warm and moist and I felt the rough hair of a moustache above a pair of soft lips. I was being kissed, first on one side and then the other. The hands had drawn me up to a face, my balls hung free in the air and my cock stuck out into the empty space beneath me. And I felt the kisses turn to licking, a smooth, hot tongue was drooling across the light furriness of my backside, pausing now and then to kiss. And to take a gentle bite. Teeth in a powerful jaw dug into me just enough to tell me that resistance would lead to pain; compliance would result in something more rewarding. I could not resist. I knew who this was and I had seen his strength. I realised that asleep or awake I belonged to the dad now, and that was that.

My thoughts were interrupted. The mouth and the moustache had moved, centred in on my crack, right at the top. And they were now moving downwards. My heart raced, I knew where he was going. My crack was pushed wide by the rough stubbled chin and the heat from its scratching was intensified by the heat from the mouth that licked and bit as it pushed harder against me. Until I felt something press against my hole. It clamped up tight, nothing had touched it before and its reaction was instinctive. I felt something wet and hard jab at it, a tongue, but still it resisted.

Until the tongue stopped jabbing and its action became one slow, gentle, wet push. In a circular motion it nudged cautiously against the tight puckered flesh of my hole, teasing it, tempting it to give in. My heart raced on, knowing that I wanted to give in but not knowing how to make my body obey. And then I stopped worrying. I realised that my body would obey, it had no choice but to give in to the tough, experienced action of the older body that controlled it. And once I realised that I felt my sphincter relax and his tongue slid into me.

I couldn't help but moan as I felt the heat and force of that tongue as it tickled my insides. Parts of me that had never been touched before reacted to his probing and sent signals to my brain. I pushed back, my body pushed back, of its own accord, wanting now to see what it felt like to have him reach further up into me. His stubble rubbed against me, between my arse and my balls and my flesh there burned red hot as it scraped. Above his hot mouth his moustache pricked at me and his nose dug into the top of my crack. And all the time his hands held my hips and his fingers plied at my inexperienced flesh.

I don't know how long he kept his tongue in me, how long he feasted on my innocent arse with his mouth, but I knew that I didn't want him to stop. Not until my cock, now painful, had spat and emptied my balls. But his mouth released me and my hole contracted as his tongue slipped out. My insides felt wet, warm and for the first time I was aware of what lay within me. But the grip on my hips did not lessen. Instead it pulled me higher, lifting my arse up and towards the furriness of the man who knelt behind me.

Up until I pressed against his hairy flesh and felt the downy hair of my arse tangle with the coarse fleece of the older man's strong thighs. And then something was lying against my crack. Something solid, thick and awesome rested there. And something soft and large swung against my balls. I felt his balls touch mine, sending a sliver of electricity up and into my cock head. They felt so huge against me and I felt so inadequate, immature, inexperience. I did not know what to do but I knew that he did, and that was o.k. He would take care of me.

Our balls rubbed together, his firming up while mine hung low and heavier with the juice that was gathering there. His hips circled, pressed and the solid shaft of meat that lay heavy against my arse slipped up and down through my crack. Each time it slipped a little lower and each time his thumbs pulled back on my cheeks, opening them a fraction further. Until I could feel his hard shaft press against my moist hole, teasing it as it slid over it, dragging his big balls with it until they brushed over my sphincter and his cock head dribbled dampness on the small of my back. And then down again until his balls rubbed against mine and the sticky, hot head of his cock touched my hole for the first time.

His thumbs parted my cheeks, spreading them wider then ever before, and his hands gripped my hips with more force. His cock head pressed into my tight hole and I willed it to open up and allow this man inside. It resisted, he pressed harder, I felt his wet cock head open my hole a fraction. His cock felt like a steel bar as it pushed against my resistance. I tried to relax. He tried to enter. My arse resisted. But it lost the battle.

With a gut wrenching, searing hot scream my sphincter was forced open and the thick mass of flesh pushed its way in. My hole tried to tighten but only made itself tighter for him. Now his head was in, there was no stopping him. My resistance spurned him on and he entered me with one slow, endless push that drove the wind from my lungs and the pain from my arse.

I felt his balls bang up against mine and felt him rest there. My heart raced on my body adjusted to the pain. He took a pause; my breathing calmed and my muscles relaxed. All the way up inside of me I could feel the thick, pulsating shaft of the man's cock and I gripped it, tightened my sphincter around it and then let it relax. Doing this gave me back some control and my body quickly learned that this was o.k. I didn't need to resist anymore. He was in me and I was his.

He started to draw it out of me, I felt his swollen head drag back along my insides, sliding along the lining until the ridge of the head pulled back against the inside of my sphincter. But there was no release, he did not leave. Instead he drove back down on me again, pushing himself back to the hilt and ramming against something inside of me that shot stabs of pleasure to my cock and made it jerk. And then he was pulling back again, all the time his strong hands held me around the waist and his powerful thumbs pummelled my soft cheeks. He thrust back in and his balls slapped up against mine with such force that I felt them bounce painfully. And the force of his thrust lifted up my hips, pressed my head deeper into the mattress.

And then his hands moved. He had me pinned to the bed, my arse up in the air and my cock hanging free beneath. He grabbed my chest with both hands, gripping me in a bear hug from behind and, with a low growl, pulled me up and back into his lap.

I could not control the noise I made then as I felt myself fall back, impaled on his spear of a cock as he sat me on him. It felt like his shaft would reach into my chest as I felt my arse spread wider and his cock buried itself deeper than it had so far. His arms wrapped around my chest and for the first time I opened my eyes. I saw his hairy forearms, thick with muscles, strong and dark. The hands that had held me were huge, fingers long and the skin rough. But they were protecting me. He rested me there, pressed me against his broad, hairy chest and kissed the back of my neck. I could feel his heart pound through his ribcage and knock against me, could feel his furry chest brush against the smoothness of my back and I felt safe.

Safe enough to lift myself up until his cock was once again only just inside of me. And then I slid down on it, controlling the speed, letting myself get fucked at my own pace. Felt him enter all the way until my balls, tiny in comparison, were pushing down on his. And then I wriggled a little, with him buried inside me, squeezed my sphincter, learning how to give him pleasure before I lifted again, and then sat slowly down on that arse splitting tool and swallowing all of him inside me.

He let me do this a few more times before he remembered he was in charge. He bent me back on the bed, on all fours and pulled himself right out of me without warning. My hole snapped shut and I gasped. Before I had a chance to realise what he was doing he had spun me around, dragged my legs over his and lifted me up. My cock rubbed against the hair on his chest and then his stomach as he held me beneath the arms, lowered me down until his cock head was touching my hole again. And then, as if he was simply putting me down, he slid me over his shaft. He continued to hold me under my arms as if I was a dummy and used all of my body to wank himself with. Lifting me up without effort and then dropping me sharply onto his cock. Each drop down sent a spurt of pleasure up inside me, made me grunt, made my balls slap against the thick bush of fur that matted at the base of his shaft. I had to hold onto him, my arms fell around his neck and I clawed at his iron-like shoulders. His hands slipped up and around my back so that we were hugging, and still he gripped me, slid his hands down to my hips again and lifted me from there.

Lifted me up the full length of his shaft until his head was almost out of me. Then pushed me down again so that my insides were filled with his thick, swollen man cock, his huge head pushing against something inside of me that sent new sensations to my cock. My balls tightened further now, almost vanished inside of me as my cock started to itch deep down below. He lifted me, slammed me onto him, lifted, slammed, impaled me, faster and harder each time. I clung onto his back and smelled the sweat that now poured from him, felt his damp hairy chest slither against mine, felt his vice like grip on my waist as he pounded me. My knees gripped tighter around his solid body as I was slammed down onto him in a quickening rhythm.

He grew even fatter inside of me, his cock threatened to rip my insides and he started to grunt. His face pressed into my shoulder, his nails digging into my sides. My cock rubbed against his bushy stomach, harder, rougher, getting sore, getting close. He lifted, pounded, and used my slight young body to wank his thick, dark cock. I clawed at his fur; he dug into my smooth skin as he slammed me down.

And then he just held me there, pushed my hips down onto his lap, kept me there as my balls gave up and started to release the juice that they had been building up. His face pushed mine off his shoulder; he looked me in the eyes. His mouth clamped down against mine and he bit on my lips. His tongue forced its way into me as my cum forced its way out of me. I felt it slip through my cock and spurt out into the dark hairs on his stomach. I felt it jerk against his older flesh and splatter him. And, at the same time I felt his cock swell inside of me, swell and then jerk. He grunted into my mouth, pressed me into him, grabbed my arse with both of his hands and pulled my arse cheeks so wide I could feel the skin stretch. His tongue thrashed around in my mouth and his cock exploded deep in my gut. A hot wave of cum hit me deep inside, I felt it sear against my flesh in there, it almost winded me. And then another, stretching my guts as it fought for space inside my tightly packed hole. I spurted onto his furry chest again, and he shot another load up my smooth insides. His hips convulsed, thrust up to me as another spurt splattered out and into me, and my balls spat out over him once more. I cried out, tears starting to drip from my screwed up eyes, I heard him growl, felt him shake as he pressed me down around he soaked cock that was blasting within. My grip on him tightened, I hugged him, felt the strength in his back as he jerked again and again.

My insides burned with the heat form his juice and from the rough pounding he had given me. My cock still ached but it was empty now. It pressed against his wet, hairy stomach, spent and useless as his jerking subsided. His kisses became more gentle, his grunting calmed and our bodies started to relax.

He held me. I kept my eyes closed. He lifted me gently from him and I could feel his juice seeping from my battered hole. He sat me down, pushed me gently back and stretched out my legs. I felt my cock fall soft and wet against my stomach, felt my balls, now emptied, slip back down to hang beneath. He took my ankles, turned me and returned me to my front.

He ran a solid, rough palm across my arse cheeks, gripped one and shook it. Slapped it gently. And then I felt the tickle of his moustache as he kissed me there.

And then he was gone. I felt a weight lift from the bed and heard a quick rustle of clothing, the clatter of a belt buckle and the soft shutting of the bedroom door.

I lay there, drifting in and out of sleep. My arsehole burned and dribbled, my insides were wet, the flesh around my hips was sore and roughened and my cock head throbbed painfully. And the last sensation I remember before I drifted back to sleep was the brush of his moustache against my smooth cheek.


Luke Preston

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