Kavos

KAVOS maverick's eighth story

Copyright (c) maverick 2003. All rights reserved.

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Chapter 1

The first suggestion of what was to come was in a joke my mate Paul made on the first night.

Even after we'd visited just two or three bars, it had become clear that our week at Kavos wasn't going to turn out to be the shagfest that we'd expected.

There just didn't seem to be any women around.

So after a couple of hours, Paul had started getting pissed off. The six pints he'd managed to put back since we'd arrived on the island weren't exactly helping.

His hopes had been high. He'd joked he'd managed to fit all his clothes, toiletries and suntan lotion into his hand luggage: his suitcase had been exclusively for condoms.

Added to that was the fact that his Manchester United top fitted him nicely and looked good on his well-worked chest, but no-one was looking. Except for dirty glances by guys wearing the strips of other football teams, but those didn't really count.

He said, "This sucks. And not in the way 'The Sun' made out it would..."

I'd tried a consoling, "Maybe all the girls are staying in tonight... washing their hair or something..."

Paul had snapped, "Come on, Daz. You don't pay four hundred quid and fly halfway across Europe to stay in and wash your fuckin' hair..."

"Well maybe they copped already..."

"It's only half eleven, mate... they can't all have fuckin' copped off..."

There were some girls around, but they were few and far between and most of them looked as if they were already in established relationships.

I tried, "Okay, so where are they all? There must have been some action going on to have caused all the headlines in the papers over the last few months..."

He snarled and took a swig from his seventh pint which had just arrived. "You know what the British papers are like... we might have known it would all turn out to be a load of bullshit..."

"More likely it was going on a couple of months ago. The reputation the place got as a resort for slappers must've made all the girls who had booked up to come here cancel and go elsewhere..."

Paul threw a furious glare at me over his pint as he took another drink from it.

I shrugged. "It's not my fault..."

"It was your fuckin' idea."

"Yeah and I didn't exactly need to spend hours convincing you..."

He glowered at me for a few seconds more but then, no doubt remembering how eager he'd been to visit the notorious 'sun-sand-sea-sex' resort when I'd shown him a cheap last-minute deal in the paper, had looked away.

He said, "I bet the reason we got such a good price was because of all the babes who were cancelling over the last few weeks..."

Then he'd made the joke that should have, in retrospect, given me the first inkling of what was to come.

He said, "Sorry, mate. I don't mean to have a go at you. Don't get pissed off with me. After all, the nearest thing we get to coppin' off this week might be screwin' each others' arses."

I'd smiled and he'd laughed, punching my shoulder affectionately.

He'd done a 'no hard feelings' routine and we'd moved onto other stuff.

It took another couple of hours for another joke to be made.

By now Paul was totally pissed and I was halfway there. We'd started chatting, in the absence of anything better to do, to a couple of guys from North London. The first was a thin, slightly rough-looking cockney wideboy whose name was Jason, though he insisted we call him Jase. He was an electrician and had brown hair which he'd obviously had bleached at some point in the fairly distant past. His mate, who introduced himself as Willows and, in fact, whose first name I don't think we ever found out, had a broader, more athletic build and short blond hair. He was a bricklayer.

Like Paul and I, the two of them had been mates since school and had come to Kavos with the soul intention of pulling a rapid succession of girls whose few inhibitions had been swept away by a few glasses of Babycham.

It was two or three in the morning and Jase was bemoaning the absence of anything remotely approaching the definition of female.

Paul had said, "Yeah. It's like being in fuckin' prison. Except that we paid four hundred quid for the privilege of being here..."

Jase had said, "There must be like five thousand guys here on holiday. And about three girls..."

Willows had grinned. "Pity we're not gay. It'd have been like coming to heaven..."

I smiled but shook my head. "I don't think many gay guys would like being around five thousand straight guys. I mean, it'd get kind of frustrating..."

Willows chuckled, "Five thousand straight guys with one thing or their minds. Most of us so fuckin' horny we wouldn't mind be too fussy about what we were screwing'..."

Paul surprised me by laughing too. He said, "Too fuckin' right. Come to think of it, a few gay guys might come in useful round here."

Then he repeated the joke he'd made earlier when we'd been alone.

He turned to me and said, "It'd save us fuckin' each others' arses, wouldn't it, Daz?"

I smiled but made a curt reply. "I ain't gonna shag anyone's arse, Paul."

The topic was dropped until we went up to Jase and Willows' room at about four in the morning. They'd been out to an off-licence that afternoon and had bought four crates of Mythos, the local beer.

We slouched around on their twin beds, drinking and exchanging stories of London and Manchester, enjoying a fresh breeze wafting through the open balcony doors.

At one point, Willows surprised us by saying, "I really wanted to cop tonight. I'm so fuckin' horny I could put an 'ole in the ceilin'."

Paul chuckled but at first I didn't know what he meant. Then I saw he was gesturing to the front of his white shorts, in which the hard rod of his erection was clearly visible.

Jase said, "The papers reckoned there were loads of girls with their tits out, givin' head in the bars and stuff..."

Paul shrugged. "We know... why do you think we came...?"

Willows made a joke like, "Well I'll give you some if you'll give me some," and Paul laughed.

But that was as far as it went that night.

On the way back to our hotel, we saw a couple who were obviously having sex in the back alley behind one of the bars.

Even though it was still dark and they were partially obscured behind one of the rubbish skips, it seemed pretty clear that there was a guy screwing a girl up against the wall.

I laughed, "At least someone's getting a bit of pussy..."

Paul lingered, watching them.

I tried to pull him away, "Come on, mate... leave them to it..."

He said, "Hey - it's the nearest thing we're gonna get to some action tonight... you can't blame me for prolonging the moment."

I watched what was going on for a few seconds but rapidly became bored by seeing a guy's arse bucking in and out behind the skip. I pulled Paul away by the arm again, laughing, "Come on, you sick fuck..."

At that moment, the guy took a couple of steps backward. His shorts were around his ankles and his erection, curving upwards, was clearly visible in the orange glow of the neon street light.

He pulled off his condom and threw it down to the ground. Then, in an act which struck me as a bit odd, he spat on his fingers and rubbed up and down his arse cleft with them.

He did it again, this time working his fingers into his arsehole, and I glanced at Paul.

He was staring at the guy, as bemused as I was by this unusual turn of events.

Then the guy disappeared behind the skip and another guy emerged from it.

Like the first, his shorts were around his ankles and his cock poked upright in front of him. It's size was quite outstanding: it was just as curved as the first guy's had been but it looked much longer and thicker.

Paul whispered, "There's two of them going at her. Maybe they'll let us join in..."

The guy down the alleyway turned to look at us. He called out, "Hey - fuck off!"

Paul said, "Jesus - sorry..."

The guy went on, "We're not exactly over the fuckin' moon to be doing this... we don't need a fuckin' audience..."

I flushed with embarrassment. I felt like a pervert to be intruding on their fun.

Paul stammered, "Hey - we're just curious..."

The other guy emerged, shouting, "Who the fuck's that..." This was going from bad to worse. The noise was bound to attract the attention of people in nearby hotels. Worse still, I expected the girl would follow him and raise the volume level even further, compounding our discomfort.

The other guy took a look at us, his cock still arching upwards from his crotch like a branch, and said, "Like you two aren't at it... like everyone here isn't..."

Paul said, laughing a little to ease the tension, "We can't get any, mate. That's the problem..."

The guy with the bigger cock turned to his mate. He nodded and they grinned at other. Then he said, "Well come down here and we'll give you some..."

Paul grinned back. "Yeah?"

Both the guys laughed. "Fuckin' yeah. Why not? If you're so curious..."

Paul turned to me and I threw him a mistrustful look. The chances were that these guys were up for a fight with us for disturbing their fun with a girl, but Paul shrugged dismissively as if I was being over-cautious.

He turned back to them. "Are you guys being serious?"

They nodded. Big cock said, "Yeah. What the hell..." He pulled out a condom and tore the wrapper open.

As Paul walked down the alleyway towards them, the guy unfurled the condom down his large engorged cock.

I followed Paul. I didn't have a good feeling about this. Paul was pissed and horny and I knew from past experiences that, when he got himself into this state, he was liable to get himself into a lot of trouble for listening to his dick rather than his head.

When we reached the rubbish skip, Paul looked behind it.

He said, "Where's the girl?"

The smaller guy grunted, "Huh?"

Paul looked confused. "You guys were fucking a girl...?"

The guy with the big cock wanked the condom up and down his length a little, restoring it to full stiffness. He laughed. "In case you hadn't noticed, Einstein, there are about three girls here. And two of them are already hitched up..."

The other guy laughed too. "Girls are a fuckin' luxury, mate."

I realised what was going on and tried to pull Paul away.

He resisted and waved me off. "Who were you fucking then?"

The guy with the big cock laughed more loudly. "Jesus - do you I 'ave to draw you fuckin' diagrams or something?"

Paul looked bewildered.

The guy said, "I take it you're new arrivals..." Then he turned to his friend. "Should we show him, Steve? Show him how to fuck the Kavos way...?"

The other guy - Steve - grinned and spat on his fingers again. Smearing his slaver around his arsehole, he looked at me and said, "Watch and learn, mate. This is the only action you guys are gonna get while you're here..."

He turned to face the wall and bent forwards, his hands splayed against the back door of a club. His arse pointed outwards, his hairy cleft open and wet with his strings of his spit.

Then the other guy walked up behind him and pressed his huge cock against his mate's hole.

He pushed a little way in and Steve gasped.

Paul said, "Oh Jesus..."

The guy pushed harder and an inch of his cock slid into Steve's arse.

Paul turned to me and looked shocked.

I threw him a similar look and then looked back at the cock sliding into Steve's arse. In less than ten seconds, more than half of it was inside the other man.

Steve looked back at us over his shoulder and said, his voice only slightly affected by his situation, "This is what Kavos does to you... a week here and we're both taking cock like a couple of lifelong queers..."

His mate laughed and bent over his body. He wrapped his arms around his friend's chest and pressed himself close, his chin against the back of Steve's neck.

Then he started humping him, drawing his cock in and out in long, slow strokes.

I looked at his arse, bobbing up and down as he fucked the other man, and saw that, like Steve's, the cleft was hairy and wet. He turned to see me looking at it and laughed, "Just 'cos it's wide open from his cock, don't think it's a chance to get a freebie. Any guy who fucks me has to get a pretty long taste of my cock up his own arse - ain't that right, Stevie boy...?"

Steve said wearily, "Fuckin' tell me about it..."

I noticed, though, that, despite his supposed boredom at it being his turn to be fucked, his own cock was still fully hard as it bobbed around between his legs.

We left them at it, the guy with the big cock starting to grunt and pant as he fucked the other man's arse more roughly and hurriedly.

Paul almost had to be pulled away.

We didn't say anything as we walked back to our room.

In fact, Paul only said one thing to me before we slept. He asked, "Would you go for that... having a guy fuck you if he let you fuck him...?"

I said, "No."

And he nodded. "Me neither."

Ten minutes after I'd put the light out I heard Paul masturbating in his bed. The bed-frame squeeked gently and rhythmically and there were occasional tell-tale slaps of palm against cock.

I thought, "Oh shit. This is going to take half an hour..." I'd shared a room with Paul many times before. I knew he wasn't exactly a fast mover when it came to wanking.

But he came almost immediately; probably within two minutes of starting. It was so fast that I thought he must be sneezing or something until the characteristic smell of his semen wafted over me.

I turned over and went to sleep as he wiped himself off with his underwear.

On the beach the next day, Paul told Jase and Willows what we'd seen on the way back to our hotel.

They weren't as freaked out by the revelation as I thought they would be.

Willows even made the joke: "Well it worked for us last thing, didn't it, Jase... and it helped shift my constipation..."

Jase said, "Don't even fuckin' joke about it. It's gross."

Paul shook his head. "I dunno... those guys last night seemed to be enjoying it..."

"Come on, Paul," I interjected. "Guys are supposed to shit through their arses. They're not supposed to get fucked through them..."

Willows kept his joke running. "But if there's nothing else on offer... second best is better than nothing at all." He put his hand on Jase's bare thigh and fluttered his eyelids at him. "Isn't that right, darling?"

Jase pushed him off. "I didn't come to Kavos to take turns playing Arthur and Martha with you, Willows." Then he smiled. "I mean, we get enough of that back at home..."

I wondered if Paul would want to push things further - he seemed very interested by what we'd seen - and so I glanced over at him. I immediately noticed that the front of his swimming trunks had swollen outwards a little as if his cock struggling to lengthen in their tight confines.

He saw what I was looking at and stood up. Walking towards the sea, he muttered, "I'm going for a swim, guys."

And so the topic died a death again.

But Paul returned to it that night. Repeatedly.

Whichever bar we went into, he'd look around, trying to spot the two guys who we'd caught screwing in the alleyway.

Jase grinned over at me at one point and said, "Hey, is your mate always so fascinated by queers?"

I smiled back. "Can't say I've noticed it before..."

Paul said, "Hey - pardon me for having never seen guys fuck and finding it a bit weird. Just 'cos you guys are totally comfortable with it..."

Willows laughed. "If you spot them, Paul, point them out to me. I could do with a good fuck tonight..."

Paul laughed back. "You'll have to join the fucking queue..."

Jase looked towards me and raised his eyebrows. I shrugged.

At about one o'clock in the morning, Paul spotted one of them in a restaurant as we walked between bars.

Willows was clearly very interested. "Christ, you wouldn't think he'd be up for gay stuff, would you. He looks totally straight..."

I said, "He probably is totally straight. He just needed a shag and there aren't any women around."

Jase looked disgusted. "Yeah, but you wouldn't shag another guy's arse, would you. I mean you'd have to be desperate..."

Willows shrugged. "It's a hole. If it was dark and you were pissed enough you might not care..."

Jase threw him a surprised look. "I'm locking myself in the bathroom to sleep tonight, mate..."

A few hours later, I spotted the other guy from the alleyway and pointed him out to the group.

Paul said, "He's with another bloke. D'you think they're gonna go and fuck each other?"

I laughed. "How the hell would I know?"

Jase said, maybe intending it as a joke, "I thought the other guy looked upset when we saw him earlier. He must have been dumped."

Paul shook his head. "Naaah... that's the best part of it. They weren't playing at being couples. It was just trade-off between them. Kind of like, 'You can fuck me if I can fuck you'. Nothin' emotional in it."

I asked, "What do you mean, 'the best part of it'?"

Paul went a little red. "I dunno... I guess I just meant that if two straight guys had sex together it would be purely sexual - they wouldn't have to pretend that there was more to it than that, or make promises or anything..."

Willows nodded. "Yeah... you guys must see the appeal of that. Another guy wouldn't behave like most girls I've screwed. You wouldn't be thinking, 'Oh shit, what am I going to say if I see her tomorrow... what's she gonna do if she sees me with another girl...'."

I began to find the succession of bars and clubs we were passing through less and less enjoyable. I noticed a strange atmosphere in them that I guess I'd subconsciously picked up on the previous night but hadn't really been able to pinpoint. As the night went on the men around us were getting increasingly tense and aggressive. Sometimes this manifested itself in fighting and violence - and there were countless examples of that - but sometimes more subtly.

Horseplay among any group of pissed men is always a given, but what was happening here seemed a little different. Goosing was almost universal; ball-grabbing almost equally prevalent. You'd always expect a bit of that, but here in Kavos guys' hands seemed to linger on other guys' arses and crotches for longer than I'd ever noticed before.

Wherever we went, men were mock-fighting or shouting facetious insults each other. Again, it hadn't struck me as odd on the first night, but now I took more notice. So many times a guy would jump on his mate's back and hump his arse through their jeans and shorts. Or, in a scuffle between two lads which I would have ignored on the first night, I now saw that they were trying to push each other's faces down into their crotches.

The crowd around would laugh at these bizarre displays by laughing uproariously and shouting "Take it like a man!" and "Up his fuckin' arse!"

It really hit home when I was using the gents at the back of a bar late on the third evening, after Paul and I had unintentionally split up from Jase and Willows. The small, dimly-lit room was crowded with men and, as my cock was half-hard without me knowing why, I wanted to use a cubicle. It turned out, though, that they were all locked and, before I could turn and get out of there, I was pushed forward to the urinal. I realised that all the other men standing alongside me had full erections or were, like me, at half-mast. Some were making jokes about morning woodies or how difficult it was to piss through a stiffie.

One guy, at the far end to me, was making jabbing thrusts into the air with a full-on cock that looked as thick as his wrist, saying stuff about needing a pussy in front of him.

The atmosphere was thick and sexual, heavy and cloying with the urgency of male arousal. The overwhelming smell of piss, coupled with sweat and alcohol, seemed to intensify it. By the time I'd finished pissing my cock was fully hard and the yellow stream from the tip of it gave way to a gentle ooze of precum which hung in a wavering string from it.

I looked at the other guys' cocks and found them in similar, throbbing states. Everyone looked at each other; each man comparing his size with those of his differently-proportioned neighbours.

The guy on the right of me was wearing an Arsenal football shirt and had a cock about three inches longer than mine. It hung outwards from his white shorts with a downward curve as if it was too fat and too heavy to stand fully upright on its own.

He grinned at me and said, "What I'd give for a blow job."

The guy to my left replied, "What would you give?"

I turned toward him. He was shorter than me but looked as rough as a pitbull. His dark brown hair was cut short against his scalp and his eyes peered at the Arsenal fan's cock as if with malevolent suspicion. Tattoos enveloped him.

The Arsenal fan laughed. "Oh I dunno. Maybe a blowjob in return..."

The sentence hung in the air between them, somewhere between a question and a statement.

Pitbull leered. He wanked his cock gently. It was short, maybe five inches long, and as thin as a marker pen. But in his dirty, tattooed hand it had an air of menace.

The cubicle door behind us swung open and three men came out.

Another guy tried to get in but Pitbull, with his cock still poking stiffly out of his jeans, got in the way and pushed him aside. He disappeared into it and Arsenal fan followed him.

Before they could close the door, two other men pushed their way in. They said something and Pitbull asked if they had 'johnnies'.

I pushed my cock away and went to leave the toilets.

As I walked past the open cubicle, I saw the four of them standing around in a circle, their stiff cocks poking out from their jeans and shorts. Like their cocks were sizing each other up through their single slit-eyes.

As they agreed on their terms and the door began to close, a guy came up behind me and rubbed his erection into my arse.

I turned to him, becoming apprehensive, and he smiled. "You wanna fuck?" He sounded Scottish and seemed about eighteen.

I just stared at him and he laughed, "A fuck for a fuck, a suck for a suck."

I shook my head. "No... no... sorry..." And left the toilets.

When I got back to Paul I told him about what had happened.

He wanted to know exactly where the toilets were. He'd been to some different toilets in the same club - marked as female, but since there were so few here they were used by everyone - but hadn't found the ones I'd been in.

About five minutes later he disappeared and I couldn't find him for over half an hour. I suspected he'd gone to pay a visit to the gents to see what was going on for himself, but didn't want to return to them to find out.

On the way back to our room that night he asked, "What do you think it would feel like to have a guy suck your dick, Daz?"

I went quiet for a minute and then replied, "Look Paul, I don't want to know. Okay?"

He nodded.

When we got back he didn't masturbate. This time, the strong smell of his cum hit me as he pulled off his trousers. The front of his boxers were still damp.

I said, mildly, "Looks like you came in your pants."

He grinned. "Naah. It's some guy's spit."

I didn't laugh and so he laughed for me. "Just fuckin' jokin', Daz! No need to get so fuckin' hung up!"

I turned off the light.

The next day, while we were having breakfast with Jase and Willows in one of the tavernas, Paul urged me to recount our experiences. "Go on, Daz. Tell them about the toilet in that bar... tell them..."

I waved him off. "No - you tell them. You were in there longer than I was..."

"I didn't go anywhere near it!" It was obvious he was lying, he was so bad at doing it. He even blushed a little.

I shrugged. "Guys were trading blow jobs and stuff. Maybe more, I dunno."

Willows laughed. "That's nothing compared to what we saw..." He looked at Jase, "Should I tell him?"

Jase shrugged. "I dunno..."

Paul was eager to hear full details so Jase continued.

"We were trying to find you two and walked down towards Madisons. Halfway there, in that big car park near the beach, some guys were fighting. We just avoided them but then the crowd around them started shouting, "Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him," and stuff like that." He looked at Jase. "You saw it first, didn't you...?"

"Yeah," Jase nodded. "I thought they were like wrestlin' or somethin'."

"One of the guys had got the other on the ground," Willows continued. "But instead of laying into him, like you'd expect, he yanked the back of the guy's shorts down and pulled out his own cock to slap the guy's arse with it."

Paul almost fell off his chair. "Then what happened?"

Jase laughed. "What do you think?"

Paul was agog. "What? He got fucked? Right there in the car park?"

Willows looked ecstatic. "Yeah! Right up his shitter!"

Paul looked at me, his eyes wide and mouth grinning. "Jesus!"

I said, flatly, "So you guys think it's really funny that a guy was raped?"

Willows waved his hand dismissively. "He was fuckin' lovin' it. He was laughin' while he was being screwed, sayin', 'You owe me big time for this, Macca, you owe me a shag with your bird when we get back home...'."

"I thought you said they were fighting."

"They were only messin'. You know how guys are when they're pissed."

Jase finished, "And horny."

The three of them chuckled.

I said to Jase, "I thought you said you found that kind of stuff disgusting?"

He shrugged. "It didn't look that bad. Not as bad as I thought it would. Different to what I'm used to, I guess, but not disgusting."

Willows laughed, "We're discovering a new dimension to our friendship..."

Jase grinned and mock-punched him. "Fuck off! I'm not saying I wanna try it, I'm just saying it didn't creep me out like I thought it would."

Paul nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought the other night when we saw those guys in the alley."

Over the next few afternoons, on the beach, I noticed more and more the number of men who were developing erections inside their trunks. I guess it had been happening since we got there, but it must have taken me a few days to tune into it.

Among the four of us, Paul was the one who seemed to throw stiffies most frequently.

I let it go a few times, but when he seemed to be sporting wood regularly and unashamedly inside his already tight-fitting speedos, I had to make a joke about it.

He was lying on his back, the crotch of his trunks pointing upwards like a pyramid, and I said something about being able to tell we were nearer the equator by the length of the shadow from Paul's cock.

He didn't even look my way. He just muttered, "So fuck if I bone up now and then. I ain't gettin' any oats, it's gonna happen..."

Willows grinned at me and shrugged. "If you're gonna jip Paul about it, it's gonna take you a while to do the same to every other guy on the beach who has a horn-on..."

Even Jase commented, "There aren't many girls, if you hadn't noticed, Daz. Wanking's okay for a couple of nights, but the beast soon gets restless..."

Willows and Paul chuckled. Paul's cock seemed to swell further inside his speedos.

I noticed that Willows liked to get a good look at Paul's and Paul seemed to enjoy letting him. Willows would sprout his own fairly often, though not as frequently as Paul, and it looked large and thick inside his swimming shorts.

Even Jase threw the odd hard-on and, if I'm honest, so did I. Some afternoons, the atmosphere on the beach became similar, though far diluted, to the way the atmosphere had been in the toilets on that third night. So many men wandering around with erections making rods inside their trunks seemed to fuel a mass sensation of sexual tension. And the more men that got stiff, the more intense the feeling of anticipation became.

I'd never known anything like it. It wasn't like the way I feel when I'm walking a girl home and I know there's a screw in store for me at the end of it. It was rougher, more carnal: an enveloping sense of urgent, masculine lust.

"So many cocks, not enough pussies," as Jase commented one afternoon when the four of us and everyone around us seemed to be hard.

"But plenty of arseholes," as Paul had replied, amidst laughs from the other three of us.

About five days in, Paul's hard-on became so insistent that it lasted until we got back to our room to shower after an afternoon on the beach.

Jase and Willows were with us - the four of us were virtually living together in our two rooms by this stage - and Paul was making comments all through the walk back, "Still there... yup, still fucking there... yeah, he's not going away..." while the three of us chuckled.

When we got back to the room, Willows said, "Come on then, mate. Let's see it. We've heard so fuckin' much about it..."

Paul went a little coy. "No! You'll laugh..."

Willows grinned. "No we won't, you tosser. We've seen it inside your trunks all fuckin' week anyway..."

Paul said, "It's not as big as yours, I know..."

Willows grinned more broadly, "Few men come close..."

There were jokes about how Paul would know the size of Willows' cock and why Willows was the expert on penis size, and then Paul pulled off his trunks.

His cock bobbed out in front of him, looking red and sore from its afternoon of confinement. It was about six inches long and arched upwards into the air, the foreskin fully retracted and the dark purple head exposed.

His balls swung around below it, in their bush of light brown hair, as he threw his trunks towards his wardrobe.

The three of just stared at it and Paul went a little red. He smiled, "And for that free peep show, I'm getting the first shower..."

There was instant uproar because hot water in the hotel seemed in very short supply. If you filled the sink up to shave, it seemed to exhaust the boiler.

But Paul got in first, with Willows in hot pursuit. He was shouting, "You've got two minutes, then I'm coming in, mate."

Jase called out, "We should have the shower first, not you. Compensation for having to look at your disgusting cock..."

Paul called out, "Fuck you!"

I noticed that when Willows pulled down his swimming shorts, his cock was as long as Paul's erection, and probably thicker, even though it was limp.

I called out, "Watch out, Paul, here comes King fuckin' Dong," as Willows walked into the bathroom.

There was laughter from inside and then Willows said something derogatory about Paul's arse. The two of them started taking the piss out of each other, amused at how insulting they could get, and their laughter sounded loud and amplified in the confines of the bathroom.

Jase went out onto the balcony. He looked over at the balcony of one of the rooms in the hotel opposite on which a guy was sitting, smoking.

He said, "He's the only guy who I've seen fucking a girl this whole week."

I laughed. "How did you see that?"

"The other night. Here. You must have been too pissed to remember. He left the balcony doors open and he was fucking her in his room."

"You sure it was a girl?"

"Yeah. She had tits."

"Man-tits?"

He smiled. "She was a fuckin' girl. I haven't been here so long that I don't know the difference, mate."

"You should have woke me up. That's kind of a rare sight. Five-hundred points in my Kavos I-Spy book."

He didn't smile. Maybe he didn't know that series of children's books.

He went on, "The three of us watched them at it. It was a bit sad for us. You know, we were feeling a bit nostalgic, I guess..."

I smiled and then he said, "What the fuck are those two doing in there?"

The noise from the bathroom had died down.

He walked into the room and I followed him.

Pulling down his shorts and kicking them off, I saw that his cock was similar to mine. About four or five inches limp and with a long foreskin that completely covered its head.

He walked into the bathroom and, paused, and then called out in a slightly shocked voice, "What the fuck were you two doing?"

There was an immediate joint reply of, "Nothing!"

Then, "You were fuckin' wanking each other off. For fuck's sake, we've only two more nights here... can't you fucking wait..."

Paul said, defensively, "We were just washing each other's dicks."

Willows giggled, "Yeah... you know... as you do..."

Jase seemed appalled. "For God's sake, you guys..."

The two of them got out from the shower and Jase got in.

They came out from the bathroom, slightly shamefaced, with their subsiding erections clearly visible underneath their towels.

Paul looked at me as he got dressed and I undressed for my shower. He muttered, "You won't say anything about this...? I mean, when we get home...?"

I smiled. "Come on, mate. Course I fuckin' won't."

He smiled back.

On the way out, as I locked the door of the room with Jase - Paul and Willows having gone on ahead of us - he said to me, "You know, I shouldn't have done that."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have had a go at them for wanking each other off in the shower."

I checked that the door was properly locked and we walked down the corridor.

I asked, "Were they actually wanking each other?"

He smiled. "Yeah. Another minute and the floor of the shower would have a bit slimy..."

Then he went on, "I guess it's natural to want to get our rocks off any way we can, while we're all here, feeling horny, desperate for a shag..."

I nodded. "Yeah. If they want to do that kind of thing. it's fine by me. I couldn't care what they get up to..."

He said, speaking slowly as if choosing his words carefully, "Maybe the... er... four of us... should... you know..."

I turned to look at him. I think my eyes must have been wide, like I was horrified. Actually, I was just surprised.

He finished, "I mean, the four of us should meet up when we get back. Swap phone numbers and stuff..."

I smiled. "Yeah... yeah... that'd be cool..."

That night when we got back from what passed as the Kavos night-life at about five in the morning, we sat in our room, with Jase and Willows, drinking cheap Greek beer and listening to the distant beat from the last remaining club.

Willows said, suddenly, "I saw a girl on her own in that last club we were in..."

Jase looked amazed. "Why didn't you say something..."

Willows shrugged and grinned. "I wasn't that interested. I'd had a sesh in the toilets with a guy with a ten inch dick. I was all spent up for one night."

Jase looked irritated at Willows attempts at humour. "Okay smart-arse, so why didn't you tell one of us."

Willows threw him a salacious smirk. "I was saving you guys for later..."

Jase looked pissed off.

Paul, who was out on the balcony watching the clubbers stagger back from their nights out, rushed in eagerly.

Grinning broadly, he said, "You've gotta see this guys. You know that guy who we saw shagging a girl the other night...? He's at it again. But this time he's fucking a guy..."

The three of us got up. I muttered, "It's probably another girl... where the fuck does he find them?"

Paul shook his head. "It's a bloke. He's got a cock. They were taking turns to suck each other off when I noticed them..."

Jase laughed, "Wow! Even Mister fuckin' Big Cock has to take it both ways sometimes..."

We went out onto the balcony and peered across the gap between the buildings, picking out his room from the many others.

It looked like it might be true: he was inside the room, balcony doors open, standing behind someone who was bending in front of him, holding their hips and fucking them quickly.

I said, "It could be a girl."

Paul shook his head. "The person getting fucked has a cock like a donkey."

"You can't see it," someone said.

"Yeah but I did before I called you guys out. It's a guy. I'd swear my fuckin' life on it."

Just then the guy pulled out from his partner and squeezed something onto his hand. Then the other person stood up and turned to face him. His huge cock swung out in front of him like a pole.

Jase laughed, "Jesus. It's a guy, alright."

The guy whose room it was bent over the bed, assuming the same position of the man who he'd just fucked. He rubbed something into his arse and the other man walked up behind him.

Then the huge rod of the other man's cock slowly disappeared into his arse.

Willows yelped. "Aah... that's gonna hurt in the morning..."

And Paul: "Ooh. He could shit a fuckin' baby after takin' that..."

After that, we watched them have sex in silence for about fifteen minutes. They swapped positions frequently, one man having about two minutes of fucking and then the other man standing up to take his turn. It looked cold and methodical: passionless and unspontaneous.

It was so different from my own experiences of sex that I found it impossible to look away. The other guys were clearly experiencing the same sense of irresistible allure.

Willows had to adjust his cock a couple of times. I was going to make a comment about it but since mine had grown painfully hard within the first couple of minutes of watching them, I thought better of it.

When the first man came, his thrusting into the other speeding up into a frenzy as he unloaded his semen, Paul said, "Jesus..."

Then we watched as the other man took his place and relieved himself into the other's arse.

Willows said, distractedly, "It's like they're wanking, but using each other..."

I said, not sure whether I believed it, "I'd rather stick to my hand."

Jase watched the man pulling out and removing his condom. "I dunno... maybe... I dunno..."

And then he seemed to remember himself and said, "Come on, Willows. The show's over. We better hit the road..."

After the two of them had gone, Paul and I stripped down to our boxers. We glanced over at each other and found that we were both as hard as hell, making tents with small wet patches in our shorts.

We threw small smiles to each other.

As he got into bed, Paul said, "I'm gonna need to wank. No women for five days... my nuts are bustin'."

I nodded. "I know what you mean."

And so the two of us masturbated in our squeeky beds, laughing at first about how loud it sounded.

About five minutes in, Paul asked, "I know I asked you the other night, but what do you really think about trading sex with another guy? I mean, letting him fuck you if he'd let you fuck him?"

Neither of us missed a beat. Our hands worked at our dicks to almost the same rhythm.

After a few seconds I replied, "I dunno..."

He said, "Neither do I..."

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Will be concluded

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