==If your parent(s) or religion doesn't approve of this kind of story, and if you are under 18 I politely ask you leave. All others are welcome.
When I graduated college with a BA in Art History, I had a chance for a job in a local museum, but I opted to take a trip to Europe and hope it would be waiting for me.
I am twenty-two years old. My name is Justin Applegate. I am not exactly gay because I have bedded some girls during the last four years, but on the other hand, I have bedded almost forty boys during the same time. Perhaps I am gay, who knows, who cares as long as I am having fun. Life is good for a good looking guy, right? I am not one of those beauties, but my red hair always gets them, especially when they see it swirling around my cock. I've got green/blue eyes, a cute nose and full pink lips. I'm not a muscle man, but years of work around my family farm has given me a pretty strong looking body for my six foot frame.
My first stop was in Athens to the big museum and that is the setting for this tale. I fell in love in that museum, the saddest love you will ever hear about. It wasn't a crush on some boy or girl who ignored me, it was a burning love for a Green Athlete who could never love me because he was a statue. This was carved out of pure alabaster during the golden era of Ancient Greek art. It depicted a boy of late teens. He was life size. There is no flaw in his body. Every curve made my breath catch. That buttocks, the flat belly, the pectorals, the arm muscle, the shapely legs, even the perfect feet were not only beautiful but sexy.
The poor boy had one imperfection: his penis had been truncated and only the base near the body was extant. How could anyone defile this work of art? I decided to forgo the rest of my trip and spent most of it right here, in this museum, in this gallery, in front of this stone boy.
I knew every nuance in his body. At first I was shy to examine him so closely. I had the crazy idea that I might annoy him, but his classic face with the strong nose, his curly mouth, short upper lip and massed hair waves remained unperturbed. No crease appeared on his smooth forehead. Once I almost thought I saw his white, marble tongue peek out of the center of his puffy lips, but it must have been a trick of shadows.
I am almost ashamed to admit that often I had a strong erection just from being close to him. A few times, when the attendant was turned away, I stroked his perky backside and traced the deep cleft between the cheeks. Another time, I stroked his nipples. I longed to put my arms around him, but that would surely cause a riot.
Then a wonderful thing happened. I went to the gift store for the first time. They had small reproductions of the Greek Athlete. I spoke to the male sales clerk. I could see that he saw me for what I was, a gay boy smitten with a statue. "Yes many of our patrons buy pictures of the statue. I know you wish you could take him home with you," he said, stroking his luxuriant moustache. He smelled from garlic, but was not half bad looking. "We do offer an exact replica molded from the original statue. However, it is quite expensive and shipping to America might be prohibitive." I had $3,000 US budgeted for the trip, none of it spent. I asked the price. Surprisingly it was, including the shipping, far less than I thought. It was crazy, but I went ahead and ordered it.
After I signed the order, Peter, the store guy put his arm around me. I was about to shrug him off, but his words kept me entranced. "Sir, you ought to know the common belief here: that molded copies of statues retain the spirit of the original."
I decided to discontinue the trip and head back home to be there for the Greek Boy's arrival. I had rented a studio apartment in New York City and that was the address I gave to the museum shipping office.
I was exhausted from the long plane ride and the hassle of getting a cab this late at night. I finally arrived at the upper West Side apartment building, not one of the best, but I was lucky to have even snagged my efficiency. When the elevator stopped on the fourth floor and I dragged my cases around the bend, there stood, in front of my door, a coffin like crate, standing on end. I hoped poor Andreas (the name I decided on) was feet first in the crate. I propped my apartment door open with my bags and dragged the wooden box in side. Finally I got my bags in and then closed the door. I looked wildly around the kitchen for something to open the crate. Oh how I wish I had a claw hammer. Finally I took a chance on ruining my good knife and was able more easily than I thought to pry off the smooth, large headed nailed. I got all the nails on one side of the top open and then I got my fingers in and lifted and pulled with all the strength I had.
The lit came loose suddenly and sent me sprawling on the floor. I sat up and there was Andreas looking at me (with amusement? No a trick of lighting.) The reproduction, though plaster, looked exactly like the marple one. For a wild moment I thought they had made a mistake and sent the original. As a gay boy naturally I check the crotch area. Sadly poor Andreas still had the results of an over enthusiastic circumcision.
Yikes, he was heavy. I reached my arms inside the cushioned box and threw them around his middle and lifted. Again he came loose and I fell backwards with Andreas lying across me. I didn't mind. In a crazy gesture I put my arms around his neck and kissed his cold elegant Greek lips. I held the kiss a long time and gradually became aware that the lips were warm and that they were kissing back. I drew away in alarm. The white plaster was slowly turning to normal flesh color. The perfect cheeks flushed with pink, the eyes opened and finally through the lips came a sweet adolescent voice, a little hoarse, as though his puberty was not complete.
"Oh Justin. Thank you for rescuing me. I was getting pretty stiff standing there all these years. Of course, (he smiled with small pearly teeth) when I say stiff, I refer to my muscles not my poor prick. But if you notice. It is whole again. Some silly girl broke it off. She was mad at all men. I wonder what she did with it, a dildo? You know, this isn't even my original model penis, although it is very nice. The sculptor had four or five models and he held them up against my crotch. He finally decided on a medium sized one, felt it was more believable. Actually I could have had a monumental one (there must be a joke there.) Incidentally your sticker is pretty substantial. I judge this from the time you leaned against my hip and rubbed it off on me."
I sat there on my haunches, my mouth open, my eyes bugging out. "Andreas that never happened."
"Call me Andy. Andreas is so old fashioned."
"Andy, I can't believe that I am talking to a boy who was a moment ago a plaster statue. Am I dreaming, or what?"
"No it's true. You are a down to earth American. Lots of them talk in front of my marble self. You guys think everything is sane and sensible. You don't believe in fantastical occurrences."
"I sure do now. Hey, you want something to eat, do you need to use the bathroom."
"No to both. My bladder is solid and I don't eat, at least for 3000 years, sort of a fast." He laughed merrily. "Say Justin, you are my savior and I love you for that, but I also have a little crush on you since you spent so much time looking at me....and also feeling me up. It was all I could do not to moan in passion."
"Say Andy. I did fall for you. I guess you know that you are a masculine ideal."
"Of course I know. That's why my uncle sculpted me, but of course, now that you can see me in the flesh, you know that he failed to capture all of my, say allure. You think?"
"You are the perfection of perfection. There is no man on Earth, living or dead, or will be born who can compare to you. I am still smitten with you and now that you are alive, I wonder if I might do more than pat your cold body."
"Of course big brother. I can see you are pouched out there. I take that as a compliment and hope in investigate the possibilities soon....maybe tonight. May I share your couch, or rather bed as you call it. I can anoint you with oils and please you."
"Oh shit Athenian guy, you are taking my breath away. Do I take it that you are gay."
"In old Athens, we did not have such a word, but men were pleased to lie with pretty girls and pretty boys. They were not equal, but they formed two sides of a sexual circle. Say, do you suck cock? I ask because I do like that."
"Yes I do, but you shouldn't ask yet, let's build up to that."
"By Zeus, I am hot for sex. Do not be an American prig. Take off your garments, lie on your bed and let's proceed."
The strangeness of having a conversation with a former statue had unnerved me, had sapped by dignity and my ability to think for myself. This paragon of all male beauty could call the shots as far as I was concerned. I slid out of my clothes in record time and stood there, shall we say, like a statue, allowing myself to be examined.
"Excellent. Absolutely better than I dreamed from your visits to the gallery. Yes, your cock is meaty and strong. I admire your flanks and butt. Some against me and let us, as your Americans say, make out."
He threw his young muscular arms around me and pressed my face into his warm chest. He ground his trunk against mine, effectively rubbing cocks. His was heavily sheathed, mine was circumcised, but they made friends rapidly, both becoming filled with blood and sensation. Andy had a sweet way of breathing, almost a sigh, like the wind. I tended to moan like a bitch.
Andy turned me around on my stomach and began to nibble around my ass cheeks. I like that. That is a nice thing for him to do. My nether cheeks relaxed revealing my red haired decorated ass hole and the warm area that guarded it. Although Andy said he wasn't hungry he drove in hungrily; He nibbled the cheeks, he made long licks along the trace and finally he produced his long Grecian tongue and entered my private realm. I began singing with the thrill of it. Suddenly he stopped all motion. He leaned around and spoke in my ear. "Sweet admiring American college guy, I yearn to place myself inside your heaving body, to bring you ancient pleasure. May I begin?"
Now I had been corn holed back on the farm when I was thirteen, but that was Clem's little boy cock. This was serious business Andy was suggesting. Besides, a part of my worried about "giving it up". I had planned to make love to this beauty, not be ravished by him. Still my mind was in a spin. How could I deny anything to this clean limbed sweetheart. "Okay Greek Boy, but please be very careful and slow, I am a coward when it comes to pain."
"Thank you dear friend. I will not cause you pain. You will wonder at my gentleness and soon you will ask me to be less gentle, then strong and finally rough."
"I doubt that, but I'm half ready. Start before I lose all my resolve."
He took hold of my hips and with sureness pulled them up so that my ass was up and exposed. Then he arranged my shoulders so that they were supported by my elbows. I almost said, "Doctor, will this hurt?"
He put his lips on the back of my neck, the place where I was beginning to sweat copious and he licked it and kissed it, humming while he did it. It was so loving, I began to relax, but then the blunt instrument was seeking admittance to my inner body. Instinctively I sealed the door. He changed his position and began tonguing my hole, using his slippery tongue like a penis. I began to push back to get more of the wonderful feeling. Then in a flash he was back with his battering ram, this time my hole opened in spite of me and he put only the head in. It felt all right. We both stopped all movement. I knew he was waiting for me to invite him in. I whispered, "Andy, you may come in a little more, but stop if I say so."
He moved in about three inches. Now I felt as if I had to shit. My whole rear end of blocked with his organ. He didn't proceed, but he wiggled it and at that moment he rubbed the magic spot inside my rectum, "Ooooh," came out of me without realizing it. It was a sound of surprise and thrill as electric currents went up and down my spine.
"I am making you happy my lover, I know. Enjoy every moment and do not suppress your job, scream with passion, it will only make me happier. What would you like me to do next?"
I groaned out, "Push in deeper then pull out a bit and repeat that."
He laughed in joy. "That would be, I think, called fucking you. Do you want to be fucked?
"Please young god, stop your sophistry and get busy, I'm on the brink of finding heaven."
He certainly didn't need any further encouragement to ignore me and take care of his longing to go through all the wonderful stages leading to a cum. He moved deep and slow, crooning in my ear as he buzzes started. Then he made short jabs orchestrated by yelps of pleasure, then moaning loudly and gabbing my cock he began to really fuck. All the way out and slam in, over and over again, seeking to find his lost orgasm. Then with an ear shattering scream, that I joined, we were both there. I decorated my bed with my spooge, but Andy, he had saved up 3000 years of cum. I came again as he delivered his sperm enema. Shit, that's what it was.
We both fell apart, breathing like spent race horses. Finally he spoke, I couldn't. "That was good. I am finished for the night. Let us sleep." And so saying, he began regular breathing. I was still too stimulated to immediately fall asleep. I snuggled up against his warm moist body and that calmed me. I slipped into a dreamless sleep. I probably could have slept more, but the buzzer from the downstairs door interrupted. I got up to speak on the intercom, stopping a minute to look down at the sleeping god, his pretty chin resting on his arm muscle, his light brown curls damp from innocent sleep.
"Hello, who is this?"
"It's your future lover, Alex."
"Oh Alex, it isn't convenient. Could I call you on the phone later?
"Too late, someone just came in and I have my foot holding open the lobby door. I'll just run up the stairs. Meet me at the door with a hard on"
Who is Alex, you ask? He's a college bud. We have never had sex, but not from his not trying. He keeps pitching and I keep blocking. He says our relationship is a hockey game and I am the goalie.
What is he like? If he was a dog, he's be collie, big, rangy, shaggy and cute as fuck. But now I must hide Andy. I rushed into the bedroom. He was jerking off. "Hey quit that. I have someone coming up. Can you go into the closet" (Perhaps a poor choice of words.)
He grinned at me and dropped his tool, and headed for the closet, waving grandly at me as he closed the door. At that moment Alex was banging on my front door.
End of Part One
Do Alex and Andy form a duo? The names sound like a cabaret act. If they do, can Justin stand by and just watch? Don't close the zipper yet. Read Part Two.