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It started so innocently. But in retrospect, I was an idiot. To be fair, two decades of formal education had trained me that way.
My buddy’s father was transferred to Italy. We went to visit, stayed cheaply with him, saw some sights, and then had to decide what to see on the way home. My friend and his girlfriend, unaccountably, wanted to check out Paris. I didn’t want to tag along; they were just too annoying together. So travelling solo, I went to Greece.
The trip had been expensive and I arrived in Athens low on funds. I had to settle for a cheap hotel. It was cramped and noisy, but I didn’t care; I saw the Acropolis mobbed by tourists, the Temple of Zeus, and at Delphi, the strikingly sited Temple of Athena. The old Greeks were amazing architects. What I really wanted see, though, were the islands of the Aegean — on a budget, of course. I booked the cheapest possible cruise. It had famous stops: Santorini, Mykonos, Delos. How bad could it be?
Well. The boat was an old, rusting hulk of a transport ship converted for motor-sailing. No one but me seemed to speak English. My economy cabin had two bunks nearly touching each other. Both looked infested and were about six inches shorter than me. Oh, also…I had a cabin mate. He spoke only Greek, was XXL, and snored. Next time, I’ll get the fine print translated.
We left from the port of Piraeus in the late afternoon, with a roar from the aging engines and a worrying groan from the antique hull. That roar permeated everything. The spaces below deck vibrated like a fancy recliner. When the sails went up, we heeled but the engines droned on.
Fortunately the sky and water were a peerless blue, the breeze was soft and warm, and the sea was flat. We skimmed along. Gulls followed us in case we were a fishing boat. I stood by a section of the deck railing that looked more or less trustworthy and let the feel and smells of the Aegean wash over me. It was heaven. I expected Homer’s sirens to call for me at any moment.
Eventually the sun got low, the air got cooler, the gulls gave up, and I did too. I went to my cabin but my roommate was already there, snoring loudly, so instead I went to the ship’s bar. It featured retsina, an ancient, salty-sweet Greek wine, and ouzo, which tastes exactly like varnish. I got buzzed, but when that got old I went up on deck again, already thinking, ‘Are we there yet?’
The sun was very low on the horizon. The warm Aegean breeze was whipping up small whitecaps as far as the eye could see. And standing there waiting for me were two girls, both about my age.
I sidled up to the railing near them, affecting a cool detachment. I looked out to sea while I worked up an opening line, on the remote chance they spoke English.
Behind me, one of them said, “Thank God!”
I turned. “Zeus in this case, I guess?” Pretty clever, I thought.
“More like Poseidon, out here. Hi!”
I sized them up. Both were wearing t-shirts and short-shorts in white, the common fashion color here. The speaker was one of those people who seem perfectly proportioned. The quiet, taller one was a twelve below the neck, which was as far as I got. She was the dressier of the two. Her top was patterned and amusingly semi-see through, and she had a slender frame with almost volleyball boobs. Both wore their hair in loose curls. They were less cute than classically beautiful, with elegant straight noses. Maybe they were related.
“Nice to find someone aboard I can understand,” I ventured.
“I know! Depressing, right? Are you alone?” She seemed pretty forthright.
“Yup. The solitude is intense. I was thinking of becoming a depressed existentialist.”
“Sorry,” the same one continued, “we’re gonna break that up.”
Her friend was still silent. I looked at her and she looked at her feet. If she could even see them, I thought. She really had quite the rack.
“Would you like to have dinner with us?” the talker asked. “We could start an English-language table.”
We strolled toward the dining salon. I described my travels.
“This isn’t really a tour boat, you know,” she said en route. “It’s a ferry. The locals use it for a cheap ride to the islands. The cruise marketing is just a side hustle, but it gives you an authentic experience.”
“I can tell,” I said. “My cabin is as authentic as it gets. I expect authentic lice. My huge roommate flashes a lot of authentic butt crack and he snores.”
“Weren’t you warned to go first class? Tourist is gross.” She looked at me closely, paused, and glanced briefly at her friend, who immediately and emphatically shook her head ‘no’.
We arrived at the dining room, a dim yellow space with a buffet, vinyl floors and tiny chrome-edged Formica tables. Down here the engine roar was more like a constant shaking. You had to lean in to talk. We scooped up some food and I caught the girls having a little debate. Then we all sat down at once and smashed knees. “Sorry!” we chorused. The silent one went off to refill her drink, which had landed mostly on her lap.
“Hey,” I said, “let’s introduce. I’m…”
“Wait!” the talker interrupted suddenly. Ordu Escort “Stop. Let’s talk first. Up on deck after dinner, OK?”
Weird to find celebrities traveling incognito on a tramp steamer. Or maybe they were just spies. But of course I went along.
Dinner was nice. We talked. The girls were half-sisters on holiday together. They had been in Greece for a while. They knew a lot about the culture, and they gave me some background on the history of the Cyclades. Both were friendly and interesting and we definitely hit it off. The quiet one even said a few words. She remained slightly withdrawn, but what a figure. It took a lot of eye discipline to stay polite. Fortunately, she went to her room after dinner, while I met the anonymous talker up on the rusty deck.
It was late twilight. The stars were coming out in a darkening sky. Up here the engine was less intrusive, and you could hear the sails creaking and the warm wind sighing in the rigging. We were scything smoothly along over the darkening seas at a slight heel. There was phosphorescence in the bow wave and moonlight marked our rippling wake.
I looked around and said, “This is ridiculous.”
“I know, right? Like every clichéd romance novel ever.”
We were silent, drinking it in.
“It is kinda nice, though,” she admitted. “What are the chances that this will ever happen to either of us again?”
There was another, longer, friendly silence.
“So what should we do?” she asked.
“We could write existentialist novels together?”
We hit a wave and rocked gently towards each other. Divine intervention, perhaps. She took a balancing step toward me and landed way inside my personal space. She stayed there, waiting, looking up at me with wide blue eyes.
I put a hand on her hip. No one objected. She continued to stare at me silently, waiting. I kissed her politely. When the kiss ended she still had her boobs pressed against me. She really was beautiful. Perfect, in fact. But I hardly knew her, and I guess I was a little weirded out by her approach to shipboard romance. I always thought it went more gradually, with swelling music and rotating camera angles.
“Not what I had in mind,” she said. And she pressed her full body against me and flattened my lips against my teeth. She was very convincing. I got stiff after about a second.
Still pressed against me from top to toe, she said, “I’m horny.”
“Huh. What a coincidence.” As I was sure she could tell.
“Do you like fantasies?” she asked with a grin.
“I fantasize about them.”
“Well, this seems like one right now….so here’s an idea,” she continued more seriously, hands on my sides and boobs still grazing me. “Let’s have some fun but keep it anonymous so there’s no blowback. No entanglements. No repercussions. I’m sure we both have real lives at home. Mine has some…responsibilities. Complications. Let’s just blow them off for three days. I don’t expect to see you again, or anyone you know. Where are you from?”
“Perfect. We’ll never run into each other. We won’t know anyone in common. Just…perfect. Don’t tell me your name, OK?”
Another wave hit the bow. The moon was almost full. “I think we should kiss again now,” she said. “Make it a good one, please.”
We kissed. It was better than a good one. Actually, it was magical. A kind of warm chill ran all through me. I suddenly wondered whether I was going to fall in love.
We went into the main lounge for drinks. It was almost empty. The chairs were molded fiberglass, the wine was authentically wretched and the whole place shook. Once again we sat across a tiny Formica table from each other. I was careful about knees. Our wine glasses vibrated slowly across the table and made repeated efforts to dive onto the floor.
“What can I call you?” I shouted over the din. “Do you have a Nom de Fantasy?”
She leaned across the table. “Good thought. What would be topical?” She frowned cutely and made a show of thinking it over. “‘Athena’ would be cool. I’m like her. She was the goddess of wisdom and courage, which I was demonstrating on deck just now. You can be ‘Caerus,’ the god of lucky opportunities.”
Apparently she was ahead of me in her reading, but ‘Caerus’ sounded promising. “How about your friend? Somehow ‘Bubbles’ comes to mind.” I know, I know, but you really couldn’t ignore them. Actually, I could hardly stop thinking about them. I’m a pervert.
She sighed. “You guys …. You could make a girl feel inadequate.” She inspected her own boobs, pushing one up and pinching the nipple thoughtfully through her shirt. They really weren’t bad at all. “But I know her and I’d pick ‘Aphrodite.’ It’s thematic. And she has the look, as you may have noticed.”
“She seems pretty reserved to be the goddess of love, no?”
“No? Really? She’s hardly said a word.”
“She’s trying to go a month without sex. She says it’s rehab. I say it’s insanity. But she’s almost done.”
We choked down a full bottle of Greek wine. It seemed very strong. The engines droned and Ordu Escort Bayan vibrated. The lounge lights got dim. The ship thundered along. I felt disoriented. Things were getting surreal.
“This was your idea. Fantasize away,” I yelled across the table to her. I wanted to get some indication of the boundaries.
She thought, then came over and sat on my lap. She pondered some more while I stared at her boobs from a couple of inches away. They rose and fell as she breathed. There were pinchable nipple bumps in her well-worn tee. Even close up, everything about her was perfect. Her skin was completely unlined and unblemished. Her eyes were big and clear and blue, with fantastic long lashes. Her nose was straight and elegant. Her lips were sexily perfect — cushy and shapely and soft. I wondered when we could start the fantasy. I was ready, as I’m sure she could tell. But I restrained myself. Most of myself, anyway.
“I want to do it like the gods,” she said finally. “Togas. Temples. Awful wine, apparently. Wild abandon. A good old-fashioned open air bacchanal.” She kissed me again and pressed into me. I stroked a boob and she sighed. We kissed and cuddled some more. It felt like a lucky opportunity might be coming my way.
“Why don’t you come and stay in our room?” she asked after a bit. “There are two beds, so Aphrodite can have one to herself.”
Well, as between her and my double cabin with probable bedbugs, the choice was easy. “But I think I saw you ask and she said ‘no,’ right?”
“That’s just her crazy attempt to avoid temptation. She has only a few days to go with her rehab, so she’s basically done it. I’m not going to let her run my social life.”
We walked forward through the shaking hallways toward first class. The halls got wider and quieter as we left the engines behind. Soon there was rug on the floor and portholes showing the darkly rushing seas outside.
‘Athena’ stopped at Cabin 1 and knocked. There was no response, so we peeked in. ‘Aphrodite’ was already sitting in bed, wearing a gauzy nightie and holding a large, buzzing sex toy in one hand. The other was under the covers.
“Hey!” said Athena with a frown.
Aphrodite looked a lot more cross than embarrassed. “This doesn’t count,” she announced a little petulantly. But she turned the toy off and flipped it down to the end of her bed with an oddly sensuous motion. I found it strangely attractive. Maybe it was the wine and the boobs, but I was staring.
There was only one chair. Athena promptly sat in it, so I sat on the empty bed. Athena immediately rose and sat next to me. Mate in two.
‘Athena’ explained to ‘Aphrodite’ about our anonymous fantasy, and then we went into fantasy planning mode. We would need to take a temple tour and sneak away from it early. We would need to take some wine and smuggle some sheets from the boat without housekeeping reporting them stolen. And we should practice, she said.
She got close, put her hand on the inside of my thigh, and gave me The Stare.
Aph looked annoyed, but sexily.
Athena kissed me, rubbed a hand lightly back and forth across my chest, and looked at me expectantly from five inches away. Aph scowled and flopped down on her bed, facing away. She put one arm over her head as though an explosion were imminent.
Following Athena’s lead, I rubbed a hand lightly back and forth across her chest. She went “mmmm” and ran her hand lower. I followed suit. She gave a little moan and Aph gave an intentionally loud, annoyed groan and pulled a pillow over her head.
I didn’t want to start a fight. I hooked a thumb at Aph and raised my eyebrows at Athena. She went “pffft” and waved a hand dismissively. “She’ll be fine. You’ll see.” We went back to kissing and started pulling off each other’s shirts.
Athena, it turned out, didn’t believe in undies. She had a classically nice, fit body, firm and springy in all the right places, flawless and beautifully proportioned everywhere. She stripped both of us efficiently and sat next to me on the bed, kissing me and stroking my cock intensely with both hands while I kissed her perfect lips and boobs and tried to forget about Aph a couple of feet away.
After only a minute I ran my hands over her inner thighs and up into her crotch, which she obligingly spread for me. I ran my hand underneath her. The kissing got more urgent. She started to lean over backward, pulling me with her. We got our feet up on the bed and I positioned myself between her legs without losing lip contact. It all seemed easy. She pulled my cock up to her pussy, and I slid in effortlessly. She was extremely tight. Her face was surrounded by her golden-brown curly hair. I pinned her arms over her head and pumped her gently at first, while her hardened nipples scraped my chest. Somehow we continued for many minutes. She encouraged me with little cries, frequent, pleading exclamations and mock struggles to escape my grasp, smiling dreamily all the while. Finally I came for what seemed like an eternity. She gave a little muffled scream of pleasure and froze in perfect synchrony. Once Escort Ordu again, she was perfect.
While recovering my senses I became aware that Aphrodite seemed to be having a good time too. She was staring intensely at us from her bed while jerking around under the covers. Athena looked over at her and scowled.
“What?! Does NOT count!” Aphrodite complained breathlessly. And on she went for several minutes while we watched and groped each other, before she flopped on her back with a sigh, closed her eyes and was still. Her boobs slowly settled and were still, too.
Athena gave me a little eye roll and asked if I would now please stop worrying about Aph.
I stayed over, and in the morning Aph asked us to have the good graces to do our fucking in the shower.
On this boat the shower was tight for one. For two it was a coffin. Athena couldn’t get her legs around me and I couldn’t bend my knees to get under her, so she ended up hanging from the showerhead while I pushed her against the wall and fucked her while steaming water cascaded over us both. She went through the same noisy routine and we had another epic climax as I twisted a nipple, rammed my cock in her cunt, pushed a finger up her ass and stuck my tongue down her throat. I barely recognized myself, but Athena seemed to take in in stride. Thinking back, I realized she had been pretty wild herself, sucking and humping and moaning and urging me on. We shot each other a serious glance as we separated, perhaps thinking the same thing.
We dressed for breakfast. Athena just pulled on a new tee plus a short skirt. She wiggled her eyebrows at me meaningfully, so I went commando too. Aph, annoyed again, grimaced at us. Sexily, of course.
Breakfast was mainly yoghurt and grapes. I dangled a bunch over Athena’s mouth and she sucked on the lowest one before pulling it in with her lips. Aph gave us eye rolls, but I was beginning to feel like Caerus for real. Athena was very, very hot. I thought Aph might be the only girl ever who was hotter.
Our first stop, Santorini, loomed high over the boat even though it was only a shadow of the huge volcano it had been 3,600 years ago, when it blew itself to bits and arguably started the Atlantis myth. The part of the caldera that remains, a crescent-shaped ridge, is still massive and imposing. But Athena was dismissive of the local architecture. “Minoan poseurs” she called the builders.
Once ashore, we just found a terrace with a long view of a couple of whitewashed, blue-domed little villages, and drank heavily. The wine got better as the day wore on. I amused myself telling old jokes and watching Aph’s boobs shake with drunken laughter. We made fun of the other tourists and talked about internet dating, which seemed new to the girls.
Athena was ethereally beautiful. The longer I looked at her the more I appreciated her grace and her poise. But Aph was cosmically orgasmic. The minute you saw her you just wanted to jump her. There was just something about her. Maybe it her graceful, upright carriage, or her easy confidence. Or maybe it was the way her unstayed tits rebounded above her tiny waist whenever she moved or laughed. I had the hots for both of them, but while Athena was perfect girlfriend material, Aph just seemed to invite sex. Athena had named her well.
Athena asked me to go for a walk. We went to the ruins of Ancient Thera, which she called “Recent Thera” since it was founded only about 9,000 years ago. As fantasy practice, we ducked away from the guides after a few minutes and, holding hands, walked into a maze of old walls and columns, eventually reaching a dead end where Athena turned and kissed me. It was one of those kisses again. I kissed her back, hard, and we started to fondle and kiss as we talked.
“You make me happy,” she said, coming up for breath. “Can you tell?”
I said she made me happy too. She said she could tell. We were pressed against each other and getting squirmy.
Actually I was becoming more than happy. We had been practically reading each other’s minds from the moment we met. I suddenly caught myself thinking about spending my life with a woman like this. She was bold and competent and self-possessed. Wisdom and courage, indeed.
“What happens if we end up really liking each other, though?” I asked. “Can we call off this anonymity thing?”
She stopped smiling. “If you really knew me, you wouldn’t want me,” she said. We stopped kissing. I was dumbfounded. I said I wouldn’t bet on it, but she was adamant. I suggested she just give me her number at the end of the cruise, but she said nothing and instead got slightly teary, broke out of my arms and abruptly headed back. I was left staring after her.
Apparently this was going to be a modern Greek tragedy.
Underway again at sunset, we watched the stars come out as Santorini fell below the horizon. Aph had warmed up a little, and Athena was touching me and bumping into me at every opportunity. Aph stood next to me at the railing. Athena stood behind me, her arms around my waist, her boobs on my back, her head leaning against me. It was still early, but a mysterious energy seemed to pervade the darkening twilight. I put it down to my growing interest in Athena, but we all seemed to feel it. The full day of drinking didn’t begin to explain the height of my growing arousal.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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