In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. The free picture album inspiring this story (pdf) is available upon request at maringiustinian@gmail.com. Please remember to help Nifty stay online by sending your contributions. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
THE HEART NEVER LIES
by Marin Giustinian
Island of Rhodes, Greece, July 1980
Percy Tryon was the only son of a retired commander in the Royal Navy and a mother suffering from severe depression. When she wasn't in the hospital, she was blitzed on antidepressants.
Having just turned eighteen, he graduated from the Bedford School for boys as a boarder and returned to his parents' home in London. His plan later on was to leave the house as soon as possible to study history at Cambridge in the autumn.
He was glad to leave school. His schoolmates claimed he was the 'prettiest' lad in England because of his delicate, refined, and obviously effeminate demeanour. This of course was not a compliment, but a source of constant teasing, and often, underhanded bullying. For Percy it was torture. He constantly sought refuge in places where no one could bother him. During the last years he was there, he had found two: the pottery room and the library.
The young pottery teacher in his arts and crafts course encouraged Percy's obvious talent, giving him special attention and even obtaining permission from the head master for him to use the pottery room by himself after classes. There, he created with malleable gray kaolin clay, a resolutely minimal form for simple bud vases. They were drastically elegant and strangely solid, just him. Above all, the way that such nondescript matter became a luminous object of beauty, having endured the hellfire of the kiln, seemed to be a miracle... and he, somewhat of a god.
He found food for his dreams browsing in the library. He would hide himself in a faraway corner of the silent hall. There he lived past lives in faraway places, devouring page after page, image after image, all the illustrated history books he could find.
It was during his last year in school that he found a passion for the exceptional history of the island of Rhodes. Founded thousands of years ago in the Greek archipelago of the Dodecanese, varied civilisations left multitudes of visible and invisible vestiges, creating a fascinating city, still flourishing. He noted that at first there were the Greeks, then the Romans. Later on, the Knights of Saint John took over the city near the end of the Crusades. The exile of the Spanish Jews arriving in the island coincided with the Ottoman conquest, rule, and occupation until the end of the First World War. To finish, he read about the Italians colonising the island during the beginning of the twentieth century, restoring the old city and building new installations. In turn, they were conquered by the Allies during the Second World War, with the English occupying the Dodecanese until the late 1950s. In the 1960s, tourists from the world over were beginning the last invasion...
He dearly longed to go there, to immerse himself in the soul of the Old Town of Rhodes, feel the yet lingering presence of the past forging the cosmopolitan lifestyle of those still living there.
When his father asked him what he would like to have as a graduation gift, he immediately replied, "A trip to Rhodes -- by myself!"
After much persuasive insistence, his wish was partially granted. According to his father, one week was largely enough. Percy, of course, argued that he needed more time there, but the commander's decision was final.
The Thomas Cook Agency booked on a connecting flight from London to Rhodes, via Athens. He was schedued to leave at 7:00 AM on Wednesday, July 16, 1980 and return the following Monday, 21. They also reserved him a room in a decent but inexpensive small hotel in the Old Town and sold him a budgeted amount of Greek Drachmas in cash along with several travellers' cheques in Pound Sterling, and put the bill on Commander Tryon's account.
Being a protected, yet distanced son, this was going to be his very first trip alone, free to go as he pleased, see what he wanted, and discover things without having others in charge of him breathing down his neck.
Excited and happy as he packed his rucksack, he reasoned to himself, "A week is not much, but it's better than nothing!"
He landed in Rhodes at 7:00 PM local time. The heat was suffocating and he was totally exhausted. He collapsed in the rear of a taxi staring out the window. Winding its way through the colourful labyrinth of the Old Town, the taxi left him almost at the door of his inn. It was an old palace, converted into an officers' residence during the British occupation. A pale, elderly gentleman sitting behind the reception desk looked up, put on his glasses, and slowly stood.
Percy handed him the reservation voucher and stuttered, "Good evening, Sir".
The desk clerk looked at the document, then at Percy, and said, "Welcome to Rhodes, young man. May I see your passport please?"
"Of course..."
"I trust you are Mr. Percy Tryon. Your room en-suite is on the upper floor, number 7. Breakfast is served between seven and ten in the garden. Is that... whatever you call it... all the baggage you have?"
"Yes, Sir..."
"Then just sign here. In your room there is a map of the Old Town and its immediate surroundings as well as a list of our better restaurants. If I may, let me recommend a nice little tavern nearby. It's on the map. It's called Taverna Anastasio. Very good local food. If there's any problem, don't hesitate to let me know. Here are your keys. The long one is for the street door, always closed after 10:00 PM and the flat one is for your room. Always lock it, even when you're inside. We hope you have a pleasant stay."
"Thank you, Sir."
Percy climbed the stairs, found the door number 7 and opened it. Turning on the light, he discovered his room. It was a bit austere, white with a ceramic tile floor. The ceiling was high from which hung a large electric fan. The single window opened onto a tiny garden overflowing with jasmine. Its sensual scent filled the room. Percy flopped down on the big cast iron bed, hugged the two plump pillows, and wallowed on the white cotton spread finding everything quite satisfactory! Beside the bed was a night stand with a swan neck reading lamp. Against the facing wall, stood a tall antique wardrobe with a mirror on the door. The bath was entirely tiled with a big tub beneath an old fashioned shower head.
He let the bathtub fill with cold water as he unpacked. He stripped and eased in, finally finding relief from the heat. Then still dripping, he stood naked under the fan and shivered, feeling at last alive again and suddenly famished. He quickly dressed and with the map in his satchel, struck out to find the Taverna Anastsio..
As Percy was studying the English menu posted by the terrace of the Taverna, he was surprised by the greetings of a jovial, potbellied gentleman with a large smiling moustache.
"Kalispera! Good evening! English?"
Percy nodded.
"Welcome to my tavern! Are by yourself or are you expecting others?"
"No, I'm alone."
"Please, follow me, my young friend."
Several tables were already occupied. The small terrace was lit by a multitude of brightly coloured electric garlands haphazardly strung over several noisy tables. Following the chef, he noticed some very succulent looking food already served. His single table was under the boughs of an old linden tree. As he sat, he felt much more secure.
"Here you are, my fair young man. My name is Anastasio. I'm sure this table was waiting only for you! I have some very tender lamb roast, just out of the oven. Would you like that, with a side dish of potatoes cooked in garlic and lamb grease? I can put a salad bowl of tomatoes with feta cheese on the side, if you like..."
Percy was so busy looking around that he just smiled and said, "That would be fine, thank you..."
"Wine?"
Percy had never tasted wine in his life and didn't know if he liked it or not, so when in doubt...
"Uh... No, thank you... water will do..."
Anastasio disappeared as a young waitress came up with a plate of toasted Greek bread, olive oil, and a pitcher of ice-water. Percy looked at the bread and sheepishly smiled at her with a puzzled look in his eyes.
Pointing at the bread and oil, she asked, "Do you know how we do?"
"Not really..."
"I show you!"
She poured a dash of oil on the bread and sprinkled it with salt inviting Percy to take a bite -- That simple yet utterly delicious starter began a great dinner! A few minutes later the roast with the potatoes and salad was on the table.
By the end of the meal, he was drowsy, sated, and totally elated. For the first time, he didn't have to dream he was happy. He was simply happy and that was it.
After paying his bill, he slowly made his way back to the inn. The evening was cooler, the tiny street, empty. Once in his room, he brushed his teeth, peed, and decided to sleep naked for the first time in his life! He went to the window and inhaled the fragrance of the night, then took his guidebook, and slipped in bed. As he read, his eyes blurred. He surrendered, closed the book, and turned out the light. In a matter of minutes he was dead asleep.
He woke with a very stubborn erection, took care of that and showered. Once dressed for the day, he went down for breakfast.
He devoured a full plate of sticky sweet pastries, drank two tall glasses of orange juice, and a cup of strong, black tea. The innkeeper came by and inquired if everything was to his liking. He replied it was. He grabbed his satchel and strode out the door. Rhodes awaited there, for real, for him!
The glaring sun, the hot air laden with strong odours, the boisterous rumble of the crowded streets inebriated Percy as he gaily lost himself in the maze of narrow, cobblestone streets, tiny squares, and abandoned ruins. Here and there, an ancient palace rose amongst the more humble houses. Certain larger streets were lined on both sides like a Turkish bazar, crammed with all kinds of oriental goods. Others were overflowing with fresh fruit, spices, pastries, and all kinds of temptations for Percy's teenage appetite. He couldn't resist buying a big bunch of sweet grapes. Fresh fruit was still an expensive luxury in England. Munching on his grapes, he wandered, marveling at all he saw.
Following the instructions of his guide book, he began his sightseeing in the Archeological Museum. It was installed in the majestic gothic Palace of the Grand Master of the Knights of Saint John. There he wandered and dreamt for hours, admiring the classic Greek and Roman sculptures along with hundreds of curious artefacts on display. The cool gardens and small oriental courtyards with their fountains enchanted him. He was beginning to get used to the heat, smiling and sweating at the same time. As the day drew into the evening, he returned to his inn, took a cold shower, and went back to Anastasio's Taverna.
"Hello there my boy! Back again, I see!" exclaimed Anastasio, "Same table?"
"Yes, please..."
"Meat or fish? I found very good lavraki (sea bass) this morning..."
"Oh, yes! Brilliant! Fish and chips, please."
Anastasio laughed, saying, "My fish and chips are special... Still no wine?"
"No wine, thank you."
The bass was simply gutted and grilled on charcoal with nothing to alter its natural flavour. The potatoes were baked and served with garlic and olive oil. The meal was succulent, a real treat! Anastasio proposed him a choice of fresh fruit for dessert. He chose a plate of fleshy pink prunes, and giggled to himself as they reminded him of his own glans... He graciously thanked Anastasio and returned to his room.
He brushed his teeth, stripped, and slid in bed with the project of jotting down all he had seen during the day in his little logbook. After a few lines he gave up, incapable of finding the adequate words, and finally let sweet sleep take him away.
Thursday and Friday were also spent on serious sightseeing. He visited everything that was in his guide book: churches, the ruins of the Acropolis outside of the walls, the harbour, etc. Friday afternoon, he decided to go shopping in the New Town looking for some sleeveless T-shirts and a pair of shorts. Both evenings he dined at Taverna Anastasio, feeling by then almost at home.
Saturday morning, he left his guide book in the room. He was out to explore the lesser touristic parts of the Old Town on his own, up near the clock tower. It was close to eleven when he stopped, gazing at a statue in the front window of the Kouris brothers' wine shop. It portrayed a young man with a crown of grapes on his head, leaning on a younger lad carrying an empty cup. Both of them were nude with rather plump, well proportioned penises.
As he stared at the statue, he didn't realise that someone was staring at him. Percy looked up and gasped. Just beside him stood the most beautiful man he had ever seen, a strapping Greek in his early thirties.
"English?"
"Yes," replied Percy.
"Why don't you come in? It's cooler inside. I see that you're interested in the statue. It is very beautiful, I admit."
"Very interesting indeed. Could you tell me what it's about? I can't figure out its meaning..."
"With pleasure. It's a reduced bronze copy of a statue in the Uffici Museum in Florence, Italy. The tall fellow is the god of wine, Dionysus -- Bacchus in Roman mythology -- and the teenager is Ampelos, his lover. Are you enjoying Rhodes?"
"Very much, even if it's a bit too warm for me here..."
"You'll get used to it fast, I'm sure. I'm glad you like our island. There's so much to see. My name's Cyril. And yours?"
"Percy... Percy Tryon, from London."
"My brother and I sell wine. This is our shop. I live in Lindos."
"I'm glad to meet you, Cyril. Your English is admirable."
"I worked in Manchester for five years. Hated it. When my brother said he needed me here, I came straight back! England was a good experience. I learned the language... and brought back money with me, but I'm glad it's over..."
"I understand..." politely commented Percy, then added, "Could you please explain more about the statue. I know about Dionysus, but I've never heard of the other one, Ampelos, you say... What's their story?"
"I'll try to explain, but first of all, do you know the myth about how wine was created?"
Percy hesitated and then admitted, "No, not really..."
"Do you like wine?"
"I don't know if I like it or not. I've never tried."
"What! Never tried?" exclaimed Cyril, coming closer to Percy.
"Never..."
"At your age, my young friend, that's a sin. By the way, how old are you, fifteen, sixteen?"
"I'm eighteen..."
"Really! You look much younger... and you are very beautiful, you know..."
Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Percy changed the subject, saying, "I've never tried wine because in England, wine is expensive and my father would never spend a penny on fancy foreign things like wine!"
"I'll make a deal with you, Percy. I can tell you the story of Dionysus and Ampelos only if you taste the sweetest of white wines that exists!"
His eyes and Cyril's locked.
Percy felt a stir in his shorts, wiped his forehead and commented, "Well, why not..."
"Good! Now take a seat on the bar stool over there by the old table-top barrel and make yourself comfortable. Help yourself to the grapes in the basket. They come from the same vineyard as the wine I'm going to serve for you."
Percy picked one grape after another while Cyril ceremoniously took a bottle out of the chiller and uncorked it. Cyril caressed the neck of the bottle and inserted the corkscrew. Somehow, Percy found that quite sexy and discreetly pushed his stiffening cock over to the side.
Cyril put the uncorked wine on the table. A veil of condensation immediately formed on the bottle. Tiny droplets began to pearl. Some slid down the slick, wet bottle, pooling on the table top. Cyril put a stem glass in front of Percy and filled it halfway. A stray sunbeam hit the pale, golden wine, making it glow. Percy was mesmerised.
"This is a very important thing I'm doing for you, Percy! It's going to be a 'before' and 'after' moment for you, almost like with sex..."
Percy wiggled a bit on the stool, his cheeks firing up, with a surge of silent embarrassment.
"Well look at you! Would you still be virgin?"
"Maybe," replied Percy, nervously giggling.
"Eighteen and a virgin! You are a saint! Go ahead, take a sip!"
Percy lifted the glass to his lips. He kept the wine in his mouth before swallowing. Then he beamed.
"Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable..."
"Do you like it?"
"Very much."
"Now that the wine is inside you, I can tell you the story that inspired the statue,"
Their eyes locked again as Percy smiled. Cyril propped himself up on the other stool and began his story.
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, horny youth, the beloved companion of Dionysus, god of divine madness and many other things dealing with the male soul. The lad's name was Ampelos. The story says that Ampelos had climbed on the back of a bull, boasting to Selene, the goddess of the moon, that his fabulous charms and erotic talents seduced all the gods. He said he could dominate gods and mortals like he dominated the bull on which he sat. He said he was irresistible and not she, like the moon, so cold and distant. He went on provoking her claiming that she wasn't able to wake up her sleeping lover and that whatever she did, his useless cock stayed limp and dry. Whereas for him, he bragged that even when Dionysus saw him, his cock stood up, drooling with lust. Selene was furious! She reacted like a real bitch and avenged herself by sending a swarm of wasps to sting the bull's balls. The poor beast roared and reared. Ampelos fell on the ground screaming as the bull gored him, ripping him apart. Dionysus ran and swept his beloved off the ground. Ampelos was bleeding to death. His precious blood gushed from his fatal wounds. Dionysus held him in his arms, screaming to Zeus for help. With his pleading eyes wide open, weeping, the beautiful youth no longer moved. He was dead! Dionysus, crazed with grief, by the power of his love, he worked a miracle. The corpse slowly became the first living vine bearing the fruit that became this wine. There, you have it all."
"But that's absolutely horrible!"
"Yes, it is sad, but wine is liquid beauty for the heart. It brings joy to men. It makes us carefree and horny and gives us stamina to overcome our fears. It can rid us of our shyness, our lack of courage and open our hearts, revealing what we are inside. The Romans said, 'In vino veritas' In wine, truth."
Percy was drinking Cyril's words.
"I tell you, my fair Percy, that the gods don't live on Mount Olympus. They live in our hearts. The ways of the gods are strange, but one thing is clear: deep down inside, the heart never lies."
"You believe in the gods don't you, Cyril?"
"You don't have to believe in the gods for them to believe in you."
Percy was mute after that statement. Cyril's words went straight to his heart, shook his soul. He took another sip of wine. Cyril looked at him closer.
"And I must tell you that you are even more beautiful than Ampelos, Percy."
Upset, he timidly replied, "Am I not too effeminate for you? I was always teased about my looks, my manners, my lack of facial hair. I was always bullied because I'm skinny. You are the first person who says I'm beautiful... the very first..."
"So I'm the first person who tells you the truth about yourself..."
Percy thought a moment and then replied, "The pottery teacher in school didn't say I was beautiful, but he said I was talented... and I think he was right."
Feeling Percy's sudden fragility, Cyril changed the subject.
"So you know how to make pottery?"
"Yes"
"Do you have a picture of your work? It's great that you know how to make things with your hands. I only know how to sell wine and drive a motorcycle! Ha!"
Percy dug into his satchel and pulled out a small photo album. He showed Cyril a picture of a display.
"With these vases, I won the arts and crafts prize at school last year."
Cyril closely examined the picture and then commented, "Your teacher was right! Your work is amazing... just like you."
Percy turned beet red and stuttered, "That's very kind of you."
Cyril stood again and declared, "Listen to me, Percy. I'm going to be direct. Please give me more of your time!"
"How's that? Why?"
"Why? Because I feel you. I could look at you for hours! I want to touch you, feel you near."
Again ill at ease, Percy stuttered, "I don't know about that..."
"Are up busy tomorrow, Sunday?"
"Not really..."
"Then it's simple! I'm free tomorrow afternoon. Let's go to Lindos. We go with my motorcycle to a tiny beach with a cave by the sea. We swim and have fun together."
"I'd love to, but how can I trust you? I don't know you, and you're so... "
"So direct? Yes, that I am! Please. I swear on the heads of all the gods that you can trust me. How could I harm what I adore? Look at me, Percy. Do I look dangerous to you?"
Percy was quaking inside. He was terribly tempted and yet he was terribly afraid, torn in half.
"You look very trustworthy, Cyril... But don't you understand, this is all so sudden... and..."
"And what? Why don't you be less English and more Greek! Seize your chance! I show you things that no tourist ever sees. Please, just gather your things, leave the hotel, and be here at half past noon. We eat lunch by the sea. I invite you. Then we go together to Lindos, swim, and have fun with friends. I have a little house there. You'll see, Lindos is beautiful..."
"Please, let me think more about it. If you give me a phone number, I'll call you as soon as I've made up my mind. I promise!... It's just that on Monday I have be in the airport at 7:00 AM..."
Handing Percy a business card with the shop's phone number, he replied, "No problem! I drive you to the airport."
Percy uttered, "I still must think about it, Cyril..."
"Okay... I can wait... because it's you! But don't make me suffer too long!" he whispered, putting his hand on Percy's.
Percy shivered, short of breath, his mouth dry.
Someone coughed in the entry of the shop. Cyril rose.
"Give me a minute. There's a customer..."
Percy stood and headed for the door.
"Wait! Don't go!"
"I'll call you, Cyril... Promise!" shouted Percy as he vanished into the heat of the street.
Confused, upset, and confronted with himself, Percy aimlessly wandered from street to street. In front of a small Byzantine church, he hesitated and then went inside. The church was richly painted with saints of all kinds. In the dim flickering light of a bouquet of candles, he spotted a large icon of a young Roman soldier. Percy took a seat in an empty chair and contemplated the image. He could almost hear the saint murmuring, "The heart never lies."
He sat and felt numb, just sitting there staring at the icon. Old people came and went, mumbling their ritual prayers. Some glanced at Percy, finding it strange to see someone young sitting there.
Slowly the events of the morning soaked in. He licked his lips, savouring again the taste of the lingering sweet wine. He recalled Cyril's suave velvety voice and dark penetrating eyes... Cyril's insistence both bothered and flattered him. Thoughts of Cyril aroused once more the warm stir in his crotch. He smiled. He looked up again at the Byzantine saint, rose, and edged his way out of the church. The thought of getting hard in church made him giggle, and then laugh out loud, all by himself, as he skipped down the cobbled street. He bought a sandwich and decided he needed space, he needed air. He went to the harbour and stopped at the end of the jetty, filling his lungs, staring into the endless blue. The dazzling midday sunlight danced on the wavelets. A gentle breeze played with his hair. The gulls overhead circled as he bit into his sandwich.
As he chewed, he spoke to the wind, to the sea, to the sun, even to the gods, "Why am I TOO English? Why can't I be direct and open like Cyril?"
He chewed some more and continued, "Shit! Why can't I just say yes and go with him? He says that the heart never lies, but how can I understand what in the hell my heart's trying to tell me?"
Percy suddenly choked. He spat out his sandwich and clearly said, "Maybe I was born in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people. Maybe..."
Gulls dove to snatch the remains of the sandwich floating on the water. Memories of his school days, his solitude, his discomfort around his parents, of the shameful letdown he felt after wanking off, flooded through his mind.
He coughed.
His thoughts slid to recalling what a mess he was and how good it felt feeling the warmth of Cyril's eyes staring in his, Cyril's fingers touching his cheek, his hand on his...
"Oh Shit! I feel so damn mixed up!"
He tossed the rest of the sandwich, still in his hand, to the gulls as they dove like falling bombs. He stood and made his way back to the room.
As he walked, he hoped that something could help him make up his mind, that a sign of some sorts would appear to him and make him decide whether to follow Cyril or forget him. He climbed the stairs, opened the door, and stripped. On the verge of exhaustion, he turned on the fan and fell on the bed.
As he napped, he feverishly turned back and forth on the bedspread, dreaming he was bathing in wine with Cyril. He and Cyril were nude, frolicking, suddenly running down a deserted beach, falling in the water, kissing, madly kissing. Percy dreamt that Cyril's cock was prodding his buttocks. He felt hot breath on the nape of his neck. He jerked and writhed on his back screaming, caught in the riptide of a massive orgasm. He suddenly opened his eyes, gasping, drenched in sweat with his cum still dribbling onto his heaving belly.
He felt strangely good.
He showered, dressed, and returned to dine at the Taverna. He asked Anastasio if he knew a wine merchant named Cyril Kouris, showing him the business card.
"Yes, he and his brother, Dimitri, are good men... I buy wine from them. Why? Do you know him?"
"We met this morning. I tasted my first glass of wine with him. He told me the story about the statue in his shop window..."
"Did he give you his time?"
"Yes... He even invited me to go with him tomorrow to Lindos.
"Good for you! If you go, you'll have fun! I am glad you not alone anymore! Can I give you wine now?"
"White wine, please."
"Sweet?"
"Yes, please, very sweet!"
"Fish again?"
"Yes, and grapes for dessert."
His mind was made up. He will go with Cyril tomorrow.
The pretty young waitress brought him the usual toast and olive oil along with a small pitcher of wine. She poured a sip in Percy's glass. He tasted and said, "Delicious! Fill my glass to the brim, please..."
The shop opened at 10:00 AM. At 10:12, Percy called.
"Is that you, Cyril? Percy speaking... I'm coming with you to Lindos. I'll be at the shop at half past noon."
"Praise be the gods!"
"Yes, I'll be there and we'll stay together until you drive me to the airport."
"You make me so, so happy, Percy!"
"I am happy too, Cyril, very happy."
Percy had already checked out telling the innkeeper that he had to leave with a friend. He paid the bill for the entire reservation, packed and went to say good-bye to Anastasio. After giving Percy a big fatherly hug, he wished him fun and luck for the future.
Returning to the little church with the Roman soldier's icon, he lit a little candle like the others did and placed it at the foot of the image. He sat, simply feeling good. At one point, he blinked and rubbed his eyes. He could have sworn that the icon winked at him... He wandered some more, thought about buying something, and then said to himself that his sack was already too heavy.
At half past noon, on the dot, with his rucksack on his back, Percy walked into the wine shop. Cyril grabbed him off his feet and spun around, dancing.
"You must meet my brother, Dimitri!"
Percy was introduced and given a big hug for a second time.
Cyril said something to his brother in Greek and then exclaimed, "Okay, come on, Percy, let's go!"
It was Percy's first time on a motorcycle.
Cyril's instructions were, "Hold me tight around the waist and lean when I do."
Percy straddled the machine and snugged up to Cyril. He held on for life's sake as Cyril revved up the motor and left. Once they were out of town, speeding through the wind, Percy hugged Cyril even tighter. The vibration in his crotch along with Cyril's scent made Percy's cock strain hard as a hammer handle. He instinctively laid his head on Cyril's shoulder.
"Everything all right back there?"
"Yessssss!" yelled Percy!
After about thirty minutes, Cyril turned off the highway and drove down a bumpy, narrow road into a tiny village by the sea. They parked and entered a tavern overlooking the harbour. The owner was a good friend of Cyril and complimented him on his young, handsome companion. They were given a table with view. Cyril ordered a platter of mixed seafood, then reached over, and tousled Percy's hair, "You look delicious all messed up like that."
"And you look even better with the red bandana around your neck!"
"I guess we're just beautiful together, then, aren't we!" exclaimed Cyril, touching Percy's rosy cheek again.
The generous platter landed on the table. They ate looking at each other, smiling, sometimes laughing.
"Now we go to Lindos, leave your sack, and take a swim in the small cove I told you about. There's a cool cave there for some shade. Don't want you to burn your lovely English skin!"
"Can you lend me a swimsuit, Cyril? I don't have one."
"I don't either. Who needs swimsuits?"
The idea delighted Percy.
They pulled up to the house. Indeed the whitewashed village with its small houses and gardens, overflowing with blooming bougainvillea struck Percy.
Inside, Percy was even more impressed by his host's exquisite taste. White inside like out, cool stone floor, simple furniture... the central room had a corner sofa and a round table with four chairs. There was a small kitchen, a small bedroom with a kingsize bed, and a big bathroom with a large open shower.
"How long have you been in this house?"
"Four years now. I bought it with my English money. Even if I can use the guest room in my brother's house with his wife and daughter in Rhodes, I like to have a place of my own. I enjoy riding my motorcycle back and forth anyhow."
"I love it! It's perfect -- just like you..."
"Stop your flattery! Leave your rucksack over there and let's go swimming!"
They drove down a deserted dirt road, parked at the end, locked up the motorcycle and followed a small footpath winding down a cliff. At the end, they stepped onto a narrow crescent of pink sand.
"Take off your shoes and let's see if you beat me to the cave over there, just at the end of the beach!"
They raced. Percy won. Panting, they entered the cave. A cool, mirrored light revealed a rather large vault arched over a soft, cool sandy ground. Cyril spread a towel, they stripped, and ran, balls and cocks swinging, this time to the sea. Splashing like mad, tumbling and falling, they played in the transparent water. Percy was totally exhilarated. Nude, in the glaring sun, swimming, jostling, playing together, they laughed on and on. Percy swam out and then returned to the shallows. He stood, catching his breath, oblivious to his gleaming erection dripping in the sun.
Cyril came up close to Percy. The rustle of the wind in the bushes barely covered the throb of their heartbeats. Percy's hand touched Cyril's thigh. In silence, they walked towards the cave.
"Let me dry you off!" exclaimed Cyril, picking up the towel.
Percy said nothing as as Cyril rubbed him all over.
"My turn!" stated Percy, jerking the towel out of Cyril's hands.
Then Percy threw the towel back down and threw himself on Cyril, pressing his cock against Cyril's. Precum dripped. Their moist lips touched, melding in a long, luscious kiss.
"Mmmm... You taste good," whispered Cyril licking Percy's chin
"You too, Cyril," replied Percy as he turned around in Cyril's embrace and leaned back. Cyril's cock slipped in between Percy's welcoming thighs. Cyril kissed the nape of his neck, his erection nudging from behind Percy's tight balls. Percy sighed and abandoned his head on Cyril's chest. Cyril reached around Percy's waist and began to gently fondle his dripping glans. Their scent was strong.
"We'd be much better in my house, don't you think?"
"Absolutely!"
Cyril unlocked the door. Once inside, clothes flew everywhere.
"Let's get in the shower. Rinse the salt off and..."
"And carry on with what we started!" stated Percy, laughing.
The spicy fragrance of Cyril's shower gel filled the misty air. Suds splashed as they continued to play, rubbing, scrubbing, and fondling each other. Percy slowly slid down Cyril's chest, gripping his buttocks, and sucked his cock as much as he could in his mouth. Cyril moaned, grabbed Percy by the head, pulling him up, and smothered his face with kisses. Their tongues danced in an orgy of saliva.
In an instant, Percy jerked himself from Cyril's hold, turned off the water and grabbed a towel.
"I'm so thirsty for you, Cyril!" stuttered Percy as he threw the towel on the bed and laid on his back holding out his arms.
Cyril joined Percy. Lithe as an elf, Percy flipped around and stretched out on his side facing Cyril's crotch. They suckled and licked each other, gagging from time to time as their throats thirsted. They were relentless, tonguing, swallowing each other's oozing erection. They kneaded each other's buttocks, managing to swallow even more. They buried their nostrils in the musk of each other's pubic curls. Their fingers prodded each other's anus. Cyril's index slid in, rubbing Percy's prostate. At that very instant, Percy arched, pushing his cock even deeper, screaming as he fed, jolt after jolt, Cyril's throat. Percy pounced back swallowing Cyril's cock. Cyril stiffened. He quaked. Percy bobbed his head, clawing Cyril's back, frenzied by basic instinct. Cyril's rich, creamy cum spewed into Percy's throat, filling his mouth, dribbling down his chin.
Satiated, Percy turned and collapsed on Cyril, licking his neck, his pits, kissing his mouth. Cyril writhed, catching his breath. Then their joy exploded. Laughing, howling, and hugging like mad, they both knew that from then on their lives would never be the same.
Calm returned to the little bedroom. Cyril slowly whispered, looking at the ceiling, "Percy?"
"Yes..."
"I want you to know that you are the first male I've ever had sex with. The first cock I've ever sucked, the first time I've swallowed cum, and yours is sweeter than wine! You are magic. You are wonderful. You give far more love than I could have ever dreamt of and..."
Percy hushed him with a kiss and softly spoke, "You are my first for any kind of sex, Cyril. I'm sure the gods had me wait for it to be with you. I'm happier than I have ever been. Your love is splendid, brilliant, amazing... and I'm still thirsty!"
"What? Again?"
Cyril's cock immediately stiffened in Percy's mouth. He leaned uttering, "Just a second... let me turn around... I'm thirsty too."
They took their time. Their fingers danced inside each other's anus as they sucked and hummed, riding the rising tide of second massive orgasm.
After it hit them at the same time, Percy laid gorgeously devastated, sprawled out over the sweaty sheets. Cyril rolled off the bed and gazed at the youthful splendour that was now in his life. He cracked the shutters. The night was young. He crawled back on the bed and caressed Percy's cheek. Then he leaned over and placed a delicate kiss on Percy's smile.
"Want to go celebrate with wine and good food at the best tavern in Lindos?"
"Yes, yes, and yes again. Let's wash, dress up fancy together and then go... Okay?"
"Okay!"
They entered the tavern like royalty. Cyril was well known by many of the people, old and young, that were mingling there. He and Percy were radiant. They joined a long table of the younger set. Many of them, girls and boys alike, gave Percy a hearty welcome, complimented his looks, congratulated Cyril, and laughed about how his young companion made them jealous!
The pitchers of wine on the tables were never empty and soon the food came. All kinds of platters landed on the table. Everyone served himself with what she or he fancied. Percy enjoyed that way of sharing food and drink, nibbling on a bit of everything. He and Cyril sat close side by side together, their knees touching, nudging, as they exchanged glances, with a knowing smile. The evening rolled on, spirits were high. One of the revellers took out a kind of Greek guitar, a bouzouki, and began strumming the theme of a well known folk tune. Song exploded, some fellows stood, swaying with the rhythm. One tune led to another. When the famous song of Zorba the Greek, the Sirtaki, began, Cyril jumped up and entered the space. He was spendid, barely moving in rhythm with the music, unbuttoning his shirt. Five of his mates stripped off theirs and joined him. The tables were pushed back. The men grabbed each other by the shoulders, and the dance began. At first, their steps were slow and powerful as they glided to one side, then the other. Percy had eyes only for Cyril leading the group, accelerating the rhythm little by little. At a certain point, the dancers, stomped the flagstones, bowing their heads, and then rising with gleaming eyes, beginning again over and over, faster and faster. Cyril's free hand waved his red bandana as the music prodded the dance on faster. Cyril winked at Percy and threw the bandana at him. Snatching it out of midair, Percy buried his face in it as the others clapped the rhythm, singing louder and louder. The feet of the dancers no longer touched ground and with the final refrain, a sudden silence! The dancers froze, immobile, sweat dripping from their brow, glistening on their uncovered chests. At that very moment, everyone jumped to their feet and applauded like mad. The dancers hugged each other and returned to the table. Cyril grabbed Percy, pulling him into a fantastic kiss on the mouth. The group chanted, Pali! Pali! (again, again). Percy and Cyril laughed, then kissed again, turned and bowed. Percy crammed the bandana in his pocket. Cyril kept his arm draped over Percy's shoulder as they sat.
When the calm returned, the bouzouki strummed another song. The revellers, filling their glasses, became quiter. An older lady, stood and began to sing. Her voice soared in the night, a hush fell on the terrace; tears swelled in Cyril's eyes as he clung to Percy.
"What is she singing that makes you weep, Cyril?" whispered Percy, concerned, upset.
"The words in English mean, 'For the sake of love, stop the night!' Now you know why I weep..."
As the saying goes, "The higher you fly, the harder you fall"
Once back at home, both a bit tipsy, they simply stripped and crawled in bed, never bothering to shower. The scent of man sweat and wine floated in the still air. They held onto each other in a kind of desperate embrace, their legs entwined, their faces snuggled into each other's neck. Percy was whimpering. Cyril kissed his tears. They silently cursed the fleeting hours, dreading the doom of dawn.
The alarm clock rang. They quickly washed, swallowed some orange juice. Hearts were heavy, tears often welling. Percy checked his tickets, his passport, closed his rucksack and uttered, "I guess it's time."
"Alas..."
"Alas, alas... That sounds like a tragedy..." weakly jested Percy, trying to sound brave.
"The Greeks invented tragedy," quipped back Cyril.
"So did Shakespeare..."
"Let's go!"
They sped into dawning day, crossing the interior of the island. The rising sun was almost an insult to their bruised hearts. Percy inhaled the fragrance of the morning air, laden with scents of pine and wildflowers. All he had lived flashed back in his mind, praying that he survive his return to England, to London, to barren loneliness. He held onto Cyril. The revolt he felt made him nauseous. The forthcoming torture of being torn away from Cyril, from Rhodes, from himself made him want to vomit.
They pulled up in front of the airport. Percy had no bags to check. He just claimed his boarding pass. They backed away from the counter and idled to a dark, secluded corner. They just stood there, stupidly looking at each other, neither knowing what to say. Then Cyril breathed deeply and broke the silence.
"I know I shouldn't weep later on, but I know I will. I know I should be grateful to have lived what we've lived together. I learned with you that I can love without reason, open handed, and free. I know that whatever happens to you or to me, Percy Tryon, I'll always love you as long as I live. I know that for sure! Promise me you'll come back! Please..."
Percy nodded. He was sobbing. He looked at Cyril and then kissed him as only lovers can. Then tearing himself out of Cyril's arms, he ran, never turning back toward the boarding zone. Cyril didn't move.
As the plane taxied for take off, Percy gazed through the tiny window beside him. He recognised Cyril's silhouette, waving behind the high fence along the runway. He pulled the red bandana out of his pocket, wiped the tears from his face, mumbling, "I love you too, Cyril... Oh, Cyril...Cyril... my Cyril..."
Percy barely touched the breakfast they served onboard. His mind was in shambles. Cyril's words: 'The heart never lies' echoed in him over and over. Then the question returned, more acute, more blatant than ever: Is all this going wrong? Am I making a horrible mistake? I know Cyril would want me to live with me? Why am I leaving? What for?
As they descended for landing, Percy counted his money and traveller's cheques.
He entered the airport and immediately saw that his flight to London was delayed until 2:00 PM. Relief!
Then he saw that there was a flight leaving for Rhodes at 11:40 AM.
He finally found the Olympic Airlines ticket desk.
"Are there any seats left on the next flight to Rhodes?
"Yes, Sir, we have four seats left."
"Where can I make a long distance phone call?"
"The best is to go to the post office in the main hall. They have phone booths and you can pay at the counter."
"Thank you!"
He ran into the post office.
"Hello, Cyril, it's Percy..."
"Percy! Good God! Is there a problem?"
"Listen, I'm calling you from the airport in Athens. I can be back in Rhodes by 2:00 this afternoon. Can I stay with you?"
"What's that all about? Of course you can stay!"
"I'll tell you when I'm there."
"How long can you stay, Percy?"
"For the rest of my life, If you want."
"Could you repeat that?"
"I WANT TO STAY WITH YOU FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, Cyril!"
The lady at the counter looked up and smiled.
Cyril shouted back in the phone, "I'll be at the airport."
He paid the lady.
Then, heading back to the Olympic Airlines desk, he crossed his fingers and waited his turn.
"We still have two seats available, Sir. Do you have any baggage?"
"No!"
"Passport please..."
He signed one of his traveller's cheque for a one way ticket to heaven and returned with determination to the post office.
"Hello again..." stated the lady.
"I need to send a telegram, please."
She handed him the form. He went over to a small desk, took out his ballpoint, and began to fill in the blanks.
After the address of his parents he wrote:
STAYING IN RHODES - STOP - IN LOVE WITH A MAN - STOP - DON'T TRY TO FIND ME - STOP - THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING - YOUR SON
The lady counted the words and calculated the cost.
"Are you sure you want to send this?"
"Absolutely!"
"Very well..."
Percy paid, went to the boarding gate, and flopped down, exhausted, in the waiting room. His heart throbbed. He closed his eyes. The music of the Sirtaki still echoed in his ears.
The loud speaker blared, "Passengers for Rhodes can now board..."
Cyril grabbed him as he entered the hall. Percy laughed and they kissed. The other passengers passing by either smirked or smiled. In a flash, they were speeding on the motorcycle back to Lindos, back to their life together.
Stripping in the bedroom, Percy uttered, "All my stuff's so filthy..."
"If you want, we can run a wash in the machine and stay naked until they're dry. I have bread, cheese, fruit, and wine galore. No need to go outside for another day or two!"
"But don't you have to go to work tomorrow?"
"Dimitri gave us the whole week off to celebrate."
"What do you mean by 'gave US'?"
"Since we're going to be together for the rest of our lives, Dimitri and I decided to order you a potter's wheel and a kiln and put you to work... I hope you agree!"
Percy was halfway out of his boxers. He burst out laughing and weeping at the same time. He tripped, naked, landing on the bed, flat on his back. He spread his legs, and held out his arms, pleading, "Take me, Cyril! Take me -- all the way! I need you in me, now! I love you."
As the washing machine hummed, Cyril entered him, kissing him, loving him all the way. When the machine hit rince cyle they both overflowed. That evening Percy entered Cyril, all the way. He growled as his semen shot into his man's entrails.
Outside a wild wind was blowing. During the days and nights to come, they took their time making love to each other -- all the way... and all ways imaginable!
Commander Tryon never tried to find his son.
The wheel and kiln arrived three weeks later.
They opened a second wine and ceramic shop in Lindos, with the statue of Dionysus and Ampelos in the front window.
As they were cleaning up the shop after the inauguration party, Percy caressed the statue and asked, "Cyril, do you remember when you saw me for the first time?"
"You were staring at that statue right there -- and my heart skipped a beat..."
"And do you remember that you said that the gods are in our hearts and that the heart never lies. Do you remember that?"
"Yes..."
"And you also said that we don't have to believe in the gods for them to believe in us?"
"Yes, I remember... Why?"
"Because we are together now, you and I... and I know that's why. I love loving you."
The free picture album inspiring this story (pdf) is available upon request at maringiustinian@gmail.com