Naked Greeks
The famous Museum of Ancient Art in Malibu, was closing for structural restoration, and I wanted to visit it one more time to see the Greek and Roman statuary in the collection. Reservations are difficult to get, but if you park down at the beach in Pacific Palisades, and take the bus or taxi up to the museum, they let you in without hassle. Parking on their grounds is at a premium.
I arrived by taxi with two Greek students who were traveling around the U.S. on a tourist visa, and we shared the taxi, to keep the cost reasonable. They spoke English fairly well, and plied me with questions about everthing from which beaches were the best to what hotel was cheapest. They told me they had been camping out for a couple of days in a nearby park, and had decided that after the museum they would check into a hotel somewhere to get cleaned up and get some much needed rest.
The cab dropped us off under the museum, and we made our way up the stone stairs that opened onto the copy of and ancient Roman villa. The boys were impressed. I'd seen it several times, and wished them luck on their journey, and headed for the statuary rooms.
I love ancient sculpture. The Greeks especially, their attention to detail and surface even in their ruined state, feels like they were able to capture living bodies cast in marble. I can stare at marbles of nude athletes for hours, experiencing a sort of eroticism that I'm sure the artists intended to impart to the silken stone.
I was deep in contemplation of two pieces said to be by the same hand, making mental notes of slight variations of the handling of nipples, the structure of the scrotum, the carefully displayed prepuce, when I caught sight of the two students standing at a case in an animated whispered discussion. I strolled over to them and as I got close enough to hear, realized they were speaking Greek, a language I read a little, and understand a little less.
"Hello." The both turned to face me, smiling, when they saw who it was. "Is there something I can assist with?"
"Perhaps," the taller of the two with soft creamy skin and long thick eyelashes framing large dark eyes. He pointed to a small bronze fragment in the case, labeled, Wrestlers, ca 3rd cent B.C. bronze and gold plate.
"Yes, one of my favorites. What about it?"
"They are fucking no?" He looked at me, and the question was unmistakably real. I lowered my glasses on my nose, and leaned closer to him.
"I've always thought so. The piece is mislabeled." The boy I spoke to, straightened up, and hit his friend on the shoulder lightly with the back of his hand. The other boy looked chagrined.
"In Greece, they put such things in the back, how do you say?"
"Storage," his friend finished for him.
"Perhaps they are ashamed of their glorious past. Homosexuality was not the problem, it is today, in those times. Men loved each other openly. Society actually blessed male unions, and encouraged male children to become lovers of famous men to better their educations and stations in life." I saw the two glance at each other in a secret way, and wondered. They thanked me, and we drifted apart, and I returned to my study of the two sculptures of male torsos, almost certain they were by master and student. A very good student to be sure, but not yet of the same caliber as the master.
Later, over a coffee in the patio cafeteria, the two students approached me again. They were sipping sodas, and asked politely if they could join me. I nodded, closing my notebook, and lifting my cup to my lips.
"Another question?" I looked from one to the other over the rim of my cup before sipping.
"No sir. We only enjoy your company; yes?" He shrugged off his shoulder pack, and pulled out a chair for his friend. When he was seated, he sipped through his straw, and I glanced at the curve of his jaw line and his pursed lips sucking liquid through the tube. Very much the same line on a small marble in a case dubbed the whistling boy by its label.
"We are some times too getting lonesome in travels," he said somewhat ungrammatically. I took his meaning, and smiled.
"No one but yourselves to talk to?" I set my cup back in its saucer. "So about what do you wish to speak?" They glanced at each other, and finally the taller boy spoke again, more in a whisper than a normal tone.
"We wish to know more about what you spoke of before."
"You mean ancient Greek culture?" They nodded at me. "But I'm sure, you are educated men. You must know more than I about your own country and history."
It turned out, they were intrigued at finding an American who knew so much about what their country had contributed to Western thought and civilization. Most other encounters with Americans had left them with the belief we were an ignorant lot, with no interest in anything beyond the borders of our individual cities or towns. I found the conversation lively and stimulating. It led eventually to me inviting them to my home to spend the night as my guests, and to get the showers and rest they needed before continuing their journey. They accepted, and when we had returned to my car in the restaurant parking lot down at the beach, they babbled in Greek about everything they saw in L.A. as I wended through traffic on the freeway to my home in Silverlake. They had previously only seen the shoreline villages, having been hitching South along the Pacific Coast Highway.
In their honor, I made and served a Moussaka and a Greek salad for dinner, cooking while they showered and washed their traveling clothes in my machine. My dryer was awaiting a part to be repaired, so I hung their clean things on the line I'd strung for the purpose, and called them to eat.
They arrived in the dining room, wearing almost nothing. The taller boy had a pair of bikini briefs white as snow, and a small gold Greek cross tied tightly around his neck with a leather thong. The other had only the bikini briefs. I took a deep breath, silently ordered my cock to lay down and be quiet, and served the salad.
When the Moussaka was served, the older boy said something in Greek, and jumped up disappearing into the guest room. He returned shortly with a bottle of Greek wine. He handed it to me with a slight bow, and said in Greek, "For your pleasure," I think.
I got glasses, and poured the three of us generous amounts, and we toasted their trip to America, and their chance meeting with me. We finished the meal, and I drained the bottle splitting it between the three glasses, and we retired to the den. I asked if they had seen much American television, and they said they hadn't, because it didn't interest them much. I agreed that it was boring, and asked about films. They hadn't seen much film either, it being too hard on their budget to spend money like that on mere entertainment.
The taller one who I finally figured out was called Philikoros, and whom I called Phil, noticed my collection of videos in the bookshelf. He said something to his friend Tasso, whom I called Tas, in Greek.
"Would you like to see a video?" They both nodded at me. I went to the shelf, and thought of selecting a Hollywood movie, but a sly thought crossed my mind, and I slipped one of my favorite male porno films into the slot of the VCR. My large screen TV, is just the thing to view porn on, the stars are nearly life size, and the closeups are spectacular.
The boys sat side by side on the couch, and I joined them with my remote in my hand. I thought of warning them, but decided against it. I clicked the button and when the screen came to life, I hit play. They sat in rapt attention while the title appeared. Between the title, which is Hose Company; and the credits, a hunky fireman walks onto the set, and begins stripping his shirt off. The boys were suddenly whispering in Greek again.
The fireman turns his back to the camera, and slowly strips his uniform off, finally stepping out of his briefs to stand stark naked and flexing his muscles for the camera. The camera pulls back, and appears to be outside the window, where a young stud is spying on the naked fireman, and jacking his substantial dick as he watches the fireman begin to fondle himself in a similar way.
The Greek was flying fast and furious, and stopped only when the spying stud tapped on the window, and the fireman walked over to let him in. The boys sat with their mouths open, and I could see their dicks hardening, as the spy dropped to his knees and deepsixed the fireman's hose down his throat. I took the opportunity, to run a hand over each of their rising cocks, and met no resistance.
I slipped to my knees on the carpet, and crawled between Phil's legs. He lifted his butt, and let me slip his briefs off, while he kept his total attention on the screen. His long Greek cock, was thick as a sausage, and drooling its own sauce when I tried to swallow him whole. He arched himself into me, and his hands locked onto my head, while I sucked him. Tas was torn between the video and the scene on the couch beside him. He shucked his briefs, and waited his turn impatiently jacking his even larger Greek sausage. I brought Phil to the edge, but backed off him, and let his dick slide out of my mouth. While he rested and recovered, I turned my attention to young Tas who was eager for my mouth.
He paid more attention to what I was doing, than Phil had, and wanted desperately to cum, but I was finally the victor in our marathon struggle for supremacy, and I left his cock, trembling just short of the summit of Olympus.
I stood, and stripped off my clothes, and took the necessary items, for a good time, out of the drawer at the end of the couch, and proceeded to suit myself up. I lubed my seven inch boner, and put a dollop on my finger and worked it into Phil's ass. He was excited by the probing of my finger, and soon was anxious to impale himself on my prong. As he slid down on me moaning, I took a second rubber, and suited his cock up. The lube made him slick, and my fingers were working the excess into Tas, as he bent next to me on the couch. When he was ready, he positioned himself in front of Phil, and I fed Phil's strong Greek sex into his friend's asshole. A sigh of contentment escaped Tas' lips, and he felt his friend's cock sliding into him.
With my lube slicked hands, I reached around their thin flanks, and gripped Tas' boner, and began to stroke him, matching the cocksucker on the screen as he blew the fireman's hose. The boys began what can only be described as a Greek folk lap dance, that sent me scattering with emotion and lust like a storm across the Aegean. Before long, my cock was rocking and fucking Phil's ass, and his, trying to stuff every inch into Tas with the same violence I was using on him.
With a guttural moan, my cock seized up, and my body went into overload, and my nuts twisted sending torrents of cum shooting into Phil. He caught the fever, and blew like Thera into Tas until I felt Tas' cock flutter in my grip, and his cum tube began to pulse in my fist, sending ropes of thick creamy spunk across my carpet. He moaned, and raised himself almost to the limit of Phil's cock length, and then plunged himself back down hard on he shaft. His cock pulsed again, and a gob of snot splatted against the TV screen a full ten feet across the room.
Slowly, we came back to earth, and resumed sipping the last of their wine, naked on the couch, watching the video. It became apparent, form little snatches of conversations we had, that neither boy had ever done anything like what we had just done. They had contemplated it, but it had such a strong taboo in their families they had been afraid to attempt it.
We finished the wine, and I selected a few prime videos, and asked them to join me in my king size bed where I had other pleasures to show them Western civilization owed to their Greek ancestors. It was a night to be remembered, and long I shall. The boys stayed a week with me, and we learned a great deal about Greek culture together. My language skills have improved, and I'm planning a trip to their Island for the summer next year. They told me of a place for rent over looking the sea that is very private. They have offered to be my guides and bed mates for the summer if I'll have them. And have them I will.
END