Moro and the pool

Moro is nineteen, Greek and has a thing for older men. He likes to take it up the ass in every possible way with any available cock.

  • Score 8.7 (1 votes)
  • New Story
  • 1300 Words
  • 5 Min Read

Moro squinted into the bright, mid-afternoon sun, feeling the warmth of the Greek summer kiss his skin. The sea was a perfect shade of azure, the waves whispering secrets as they caressed the sandy beach. 

A gentle breeze played with the palm trees, their fronds swaying in a dance that seemed choreographed by the gods themselves. The quiet serenity of the small island was a stark contrast to the bustling life Moro had left behind in the Gazi, gay district of Athens.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the salty air as he approached the resort's entrance. The "Welcome to Elysium" sign, painted in bold, white letters against the dark blue background, was faded by the relentless sun and the passing of countless seasons. The sign held a charm that seemed to draw in visitors.

"Yassou, Moro!" The cheerful greeting of his co-worker, Alexios, brought him back to the present. His smile was as vibrant as the bougainvillea that climbed the walls of the resort. "Ready for another day in paradise?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Always," he replied with a wink. Moro loved his job at the Elysium Resort. The foreign visitors were like a buffet of experiences for him. The old guys, in particular, made his heart flutter. They had stories to tell and something else, a mischievous twinkle in their eyes that reminded him of his grandpa's.

The first guest he encountered that day was Mr. Jenkins, a regular. A portly gay man with a thick mustache and a penchant for loud Hawaiian shirts, he was easy to spot. Moro took a moment to appreciate the way his own short, muscular body looked in the tight, white resort uniform that highlighted his tanned skin and bulging biceps. He knew Mr. Jenkins liked what he saw, and Moro didn't mind playing along.

"How can I help you, sir?" Moro asked, his voice dripping with a practiced charm. Moro had a way of trying to look innocent.

"Oh, just looking for my room key, handsome," Mr. Jenkins replied, his eyes scanning Moro's body shamelessly. "I must have left it by the pool."

Moro's smile grew wider. This was going to be an interesting day.The resort was empty, the perfect stage for their little game. Most guests had gone out for the day. 

He pretended not to notice Mr. Jenkins' ogling and Moro bent over the reception desk provocatively, giving him a clear view of his tight ass.  Every morning Moroa greased his ass in anticipation of a guests being interested. The anticipation was almost palpable, and Moro felt a thrill run up his spine. He knew the old man had been eyeing him for weeks, and today, the time was ripe.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent his shorts to the floor, the fabric pooling around his ankles. He stepped out of them casually, glancing back at Mr. Jenkins with feigned innocence. The older man's eyes widened, and his breath hitched. The greased cheeks of Moro's ass gleamed in the sunlight, begging for attention.

Mr. Jenkins couldn't resist. He checked over his shoulder, ensuring they were alone. His hand trembled as he reached for the bulge in his shorts. With a quick look around, he whipped out his cock, already standing at attention. Moro gasped dramatically, playing the surprised card to perfection.

The game was on. The old man wasted no time. He stumbled forward, his excitement evident in his clumsy movements. Moro felt the blunt tip of Mr. Jenkins' cut cock press against his hole. He bit his lip, bracing himself for the rough intrusion. Then, with one brutal thrust, Mr. Jenkins was inside him.

Moro's eyes watered, and he had to fight back a moan. The pain was sharp but quickly gave way to a familiar pleasure. He knew how this went. The old guy would fuck him hard for a few minutes, grunting like a boar in heat, before spilling his load and retreating back to his room, satisfied. Moro had done this dance before, and he was a pro.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air as Mr. Jenkins pounded into him. Sandals slapped against the wooden floorboards in a rhythm that matched the sway of the palm trees outside. Moro's muscles tensed with every thrust, his body adjusting to the unyielding intrusion. Moro loved the way Mr Jenkins body slapped against him.

The minutes ticked by, each one more agonizingly pleasurable than the last. Mr. Jenkins' breath grew irregular,  his grip tightening on Moro's hips. Moro could feel the old man's cock swelling, the precursor to his climax. It was almost time. They all spilled their seed real quick with Moro.

With a final, guttural groan, it was over. Mr. Jenkins' grunted like a boar and his cock spurted hot cum deep inside, filling Moro with satisfaction. The old man leaned against the desk, panting, his chest heaving with exertion.

Moro took a deep breath, his body trembling from the force and urgency of the encounter. Mr Jenkins pulled his cock out thoughtlessly, uninterested in Moro’s feelings. Moro straightened up, turning to face Mr. Jenkins with a coy smile. "Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?" he asked, his voice sweet and innocent. His ass hurt but that was part of the fun.

Mr. Jenkins, still catching his breath, managed a nod. He tucked his cock back into his shorts and handed Moro a crumpled bill. "Just the key," he said, his voice gruff. "Maybe a little more of that sunscreen... for later."

Moro never asked for money and was always surprised when older guys felt the need to hand a few bills over, still, it paid for some nice things.

Moro took the key from the drawer and handed it to him, their fingers brushing against each other. The transaction was complete. For now. The story of Moro and Mr. Jenkins was far from over. The resort had a way of bringing people back for more. Moro? He was always ready to give them what they wanted.

He watched Mr. Jenkins stroll away, the bill still in his hand. The money was just a bonus. It was really the thrill, the chase, and the eventual surrender that Moro truly craved. It was a dance they both knew well.

As he wiped the desk clean, Moro felt the sticky warmth inside him. The cum was a constant reminder of his role here, the naughty little secret that everyone knew about but no one talked about. It was a badge of honor for Moro.

He stepped into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, he admired the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, his cheeks flushed with excitement. He liked the feeling of being filled, used, and desired. It was a powerful aphrodisiac, one that fueled his days and nights on this little slice of Greek heaven.

Moro knew that his job was more than just handing out keys and serving drinks. It was about fulfilling fantasies. Today, he had done just that. His hunger for more was insatiable. He liked the thrill of the hunt, the rush of adrenaline that came with each new encounter. He knew there were more guests to tease and pleasure, more secrets to uncover.

As he slipped his shorts back on, the fabric sticking slightly to his skin, he couldn't help but wonder who would be next to crave his attention. The resort was a playground of desires, and Moro was the master of ceremonies, ready to take on whatever, or whoever, the day would bring. He walked out, the sun warming his bare chest, the scent of sex lingering in the air. The island was his stage, and he was ready to put on a show.

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