Wanderlust - A Greek Odyssey free porn video

I paid the price she demanded.  When the extrovert gave way to the introvert, I became her slave, and as my mistress, I knew her intimately.  Rising as a faint pang, excitement laced with anxiety, its urgency grew quickly. 

Crumbling by the hour, I could not endure the trajectory of this sepia-tinted relationship.  The unremarkable tale of vanilla boy meets vanilla girl and they will not live happily ever after.  Compelled by honesty, tinged with melancholy, a compulsion for the truth took control.  Lousy with restlessness, my soul burnished, I needed peace.

I needed to get away - far, far, away. 

Coming to heel, I listened to my mistress - wanderlust.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

My goal spurred me on, a seldom-referenced naturist beach, rarely attended, difficult to reach.  Situated on a small Greek island, its appeal seized me whole.  Its remoteness required a hike of several miles via an inhospitable route.  Accompanied by peevish cicadas, I toiled in the furnace heat as rivulets of sweat ran off my face.  Navigating the rocky tributary, it gave me comfort; this shallow ravine was passable only by the determined and solely on foot.  The thirty-pound rucksack symbolised my defiance, I intended to make this a long stay. 

Driven by the need for freedom, its promise fuelled my tired legs.  Solace amidst the crashing waves and the caress of the breeze for company, alone with my thoughts, no pretence, no pointless chitchat, no interaction. 

The splash of my feet in the shallow brook drowned out the cicadas and soaked my sandals.  Soothed, I stopped and wondered if I should rest.  In the distance, I caught the ethereal sound of crashing waves.  Spurred on, the noise grew until the rocks gave way to pebbles and pristine crumbly sand.  

Uplifted by the view before me, sheened with sweat and dust, I threw down my pack, cast off my clothes, and swam in the baptismal sea.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I missed it – making love, sex, fucking, I could not care less for a name for it.  The year spent in that relationship, I felt something at first, so strong it curdled my stomach.  Quickly it faded, and I wrestled with the conflict of this new reality and old memories.  Rising in tempo and fury, an internalised cacophony of crashing cymbals, I had to escape.

I chose what I missed, fucking.  Indentured to my mistress for a month now, the opportunity presented itself to fuck and I gave a good account of myself.  The excitement of sharing thoughts and deeds, to bestow intense pleasure and feel its reward; new memories washed away the old reality.  Somethings you do not forget, and I enjoyed the newfound liberty to share my fantasies.  To hear them reciprocated from another living being, they healed the torment.

Naked, except for my sandals, and tanned to a biscuit hue, the dry rocks succumbed inch-by-inch to the soft waves.  In an hour, the sea would consume them all.  Whipping my beachcaster towards the horizon, the reel fizzed, and the weight arced through the azure sky.  I squinted at the dazzling ripples and a faint splosh pricked the tranquillity.  

Reeling in, my body mimicked the movements of a tasty morsel.  Today, I did not fish for sport; necessity spurred me on. 

Gazing across the golden yellow shoreline, I felt its peace again.  Half a mile of uninterrupted beach stretched out in a jagged crescent, and I revelled in its solitude.  Irregular dunes, tall, spiked with needle grass created an impenetrable barrier.  At the tip of the crescent, the headland rose to a rocky steep point and gave the view its drama.

At first, the serenity soothed me, and two weeks later, it fortified me.  Light in spirit and mind, everything felt deconstructed, laid out neatly for inspection.  The simplicity of this existence granted me this time to think.  My old life’s dilemmas, piled high like dirty dishes, felt irrelevant; I rediscovered my self-awareness.

The rod stiffened, bent on a tight line.  The joy of its surprise pulsed heavily through my chest, the ratchet clicked and dinner beckoned.  Making subtle movements through my body, I pulled carefully and reeled in.  Excited by the flashes of silver shallow in the water, with one last pull, it shot up. 

Blinking against the sun, a large red mullet hung from the line.  Good for a hearty meal, it was time to eat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Digging my feet in, the sand felt cool through my toes.  My hunger sated by roasted fish and plump noodles, I felt content.  Propped against a dune, lost in a thousand yard stare, tiny flickers of colourful flame danced from the campfire.  This was my favourite part of the day.  Under lamplight, I appeased my mistress and kept my journal.  Tonight promised a new moon, and mellowed by marijuana, prone under the Milky Way; my thoughts would ramble until the sleep of innocents. 

Hovering mid-way in the sky, the sun made its slow decent from yellow to orange.  High tide lapped hypnotically at the shoreline.  Calm, as warm as a bath, I submitted to its appeal and a lazy soak before a sundowner joint.

Up to my chest, what I saw on the beach jarred my soul.  A dread washed over me, paradise felt lost as two figures stood close to my pitch.  With a sinking heart, I wanted to shoo them away.  Rising from the sea, half of me wanted to chide them until I paused.  Transfixed, a male and female stood together, young and slim.

Approaching closer, my calves eased from the pull of the water.  The splash of each step quietened to the slap of bare feet against wet sand.  Sick to my stomach, the view before me made me forget it.  Sun-bleached brunette, hair in thick braids, and her sun-kissed body made me stare.  Unpacking her rucksack, her lithe body flexed elegantly.  Attractive, fresh-faced, sharp angular features, and her breasts, full and pert, I felt a forgotten pang.  They were not childbearing hips, in time, they might be.  Taut, broad-shouldered, she squatted, flanks tight, thighs open.  I could not linger on her smooth loins for long.  The light caught the glimmer of a piercing at the cleft of her sex.

Him, her beau, boyfriend, or whatever, was the same.  Well-defined, athletic, handsome, and as naked as the day he was born.  A similar frame to myself, mid-twenties too, tanned and blonde, he wrestled with poles and tent fabric.

On this expansive beach, that vexation bubbled up again, why there, why so close.  Begrudgingly, I could share but not there, not with me.

He met my gaze first; I caught his smile, teeth-bared, and I half-grimaced in return.

“Hallo.”  Thick with an accent, hard to place, it sounded Nordic in origin.

Looking up, she smiled too and it felt curmudgeonly to be so austere.  I softened into a smile, nothing too much; just warm enough to be civil.

“Hi,” she offered with a crisper accent, definitely Swedish.

“Hello.”

Zipping open the fabric, he fed in a pole and looked at me again, “We wondered if you were here.”

I did not expect that and my features contorted.

Adept, she smiled widely, “He does not remember.”

They both giggled and my mood darkened a little, “Remember what?”

I did not mean for it to sound so waspish, every spoken word seemed to desecrate my solitude.  It was true, I had no idea, and I had very little latitude for this game.

“Petra told us,” he added.

My countenance eased and two eyebrows rose when the realisation dawned on me.  It felt more than two weeks ago and pillow talk has gotten me into trouble before. 

“I think she wants you to come back,” she added with a dazzling smile.

Petra, the vixen waitress at the guesthouse and taverna, an oasis close to the more accessible naturist beach.  True, I would have to come back as the only way to reconnect with civilisation.  I had her to thank for the simple instruction of following that tributary.  Three nights I spent at that taverna.  Petra’s beauty and beguiling charm proved too much for a sex-starved man.  On the eve of the second day, just before midnight, I gave in to her.  I chided myself; those torrid nights deserved a lot more than forgetfulness.

“Ah,” and I smiled as the memories fizzed through my mind, “I see.”

Her hips wiggled, a display of coyness perhaps, she conveyed more than a simple emotion, “We found her very attractive too.”

Somehow, I was not surprised; clearly, they were open-minded, a Scandinavian stereotype was at risk if they were not.

Looking to him, he nodded, “Yes, very attractive.”  In that pause, I could sense there was something else, he looked reticent, and I waited for the punchline, “That’s quite a party-trick she has.”

Penetrated anally by one of her digits at the point of climax, I broke into a wider smile.  Clearly, they both experienced more of Petra than hummous and retsina.  I worked hard to suppress a tingle of arousal.

I blew out my cheeks, “Yeah, you could say that.”

She laughed now; I did not stifle my snort of amusement.

“I’m Linea, this oaf is Markus.”

“I’m Harry, pleased to meet you.”

It was only a half-lie as my frostiness evaporated.

“Petra said you have been gone a long time.” 

“Two weeks and I…”

Hesitating, my rationale shot to the fore.  Quickly, I calculated the risk of honesty and pressed ahead.

I relented with a mild sigh, “I came here to get away from it all.”

Markus recoiled, “Shit, sorry.  Are we intruding?  Petra said you were very friendly.”

Either that was the pillow talk, code or she relayed what she learned about me on those two nights.  His comment was ambiguous enough and yet Linea looked concerned.

Reflexively, my response was immediate, “No, no, it’s fine.  Really.”

I understood enough to know that spark inside me was the truth and I felt the earnestness in my smile.

Markus glanced at Linea; clearly, they knew each other well, to communicate with a simple look.

Linea looked relieved, “Good, we don’t want to intrude.  Petra told us about you and the beach.  We wondered if you had moved on by now and we liked the idea of somewhere like this.  Then we saw the tent and a figure in the sea.”  She paused, “Two weeks here, alone, we thought you would like the company.”

Pensive, aloof, her grin looked different.  I knew enough, I experienced enough to know what that expression might mean.  I hoped the look on her face meant what I imagined.

Markus glanced at the campfire and the beachcaster propped against the tall dune, “Looks like you have everything you need.”

I shrugged, “Yeah, that fishing rod is a lifesaver; I’m down to a few tins, some dried noodles and pasta.  I have solar lamps.  The purification pump does a good job on the water in the brook and there’s plenty of firewood near there too.”

“Very resourceful,” and Linea sniggered a little.

Challenged, I upped the ante, “I have some grass too.”

“Far out,” gasped Markus with a laugh.  I admit I was warming to them.

“We brought enough for a few days, water is so heavy to carry,” mused Linea.  “Then we have canned dolmades, tins of sardines, pasta.  Pretty boring stuff.”

“And this!” heralded Markus holding up a bottle of vodka.

Now I was really warming to them.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I left them to it and took a walk up the ravine for more wood.  With dusk in an hour, I had enough collected.  My thoughts never wandered far from them, I needed the time to think.  Petra was a liberated creature; she knew what I was because I told her, and she told me in return.  It was a conversation difficult to forget.  I remarked at the time that the people that shared our outlook made it impossible for a practical existence.  Admittedly, I would return for the opportunity to enjoy her many talents.  Clearly, summertime slaked her thirst for women, and men; I admired her for that.

I remember the relief of sharing my sexuality; we shared that one thing in common, our desire for both sexes.  They competed for my affection; seldom did I find the opportunity to indulge my preference – both at the same time.  I tried separate dalliances, it proved easy to find hard cock to play with, less so, women, and rarer still, bisexual couples.  This dilemma made Petra laugh, naked, lying alongside me, my body drugged by sexual gratification.  I pondered what Petra told Linea and Markus about me. 

Picking up a branch, bleached and bone dry, it snapped in two easily.  Walking back, I considered their motivation.  If I was with Linea and I knew there was a bisexual naturist on a remote beach, would I be tempted to go and find them?  The answer felt uncertain, the excitement felt palpable.

Walking back, Markus had done a good job on their tent, pitched obliquely under the same imposing high dune for shade.  Looking out to the ocean, they swam in its weak current.

With plenty of firewood for the evening, I placed smaller pieces of wood on the fire.  Nursing the flames, I watched them cavort in the sea; their whoops of laughter carried on the breeze.  Balancing the canteen cup on the triangle of firestones, the water would boil for pasta; maybe some more noodles for me.  Cigarette papers, tobacco and grass, I fashioned something large enough for us all to share.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Mellowed, Linea had the giggles.  Sitting outside on our bedrolls, I extinguished the dog-end of our second joint.  The glow of vodka warmed me and the campfire fire gave enough heat to stay naked.  We joked, laughed, and told stories about our travels so far.  Oddly, I felt saddened.  They seized life together and made it more than the sum of its parts.  Living it to the full, this was their last hurrah.  They had jobs to go to, and soon, I feared its responsibility might squeeze the joy from their lives.  For now, their vibrancy and sense of fun proved infectious.  Unencumbered by the mundanities of reality, I pretended we were the last three human beings alive.

Passing the vodka to me, I took another swig.  They were tactile towards each other, comfortable in my company, and libated enough to edge towards their more salacious adventures.  They enjoyed naturism, and like many that partook, it was a prelude to other pursuits.

“You know what we are though, don’t you Harry?” offered Markus.

I smiled, “I think I can guess.”

“We are swingers!” laughed Linea, throwing her arms up fast enough to make her breasts jiggle.

“Linea!” he retorted.

I sniggered, “Markus, I kind of knew.”

Linea looked serious for a moment; I waited patiently, blissed out enough to make those few seconds feel much longer.

“And you Harry? Have you?” she leant into enough to make her breasts hang slightly.

I admired them for a moment, then looked at her, dead in the eyes, and raised an eyebrow, “I have a few times.”

Sitting upright, she purred and her slight hand reached to Markus’ loins, she looked at me, mischievous, and our eyes locked together.  The gentle motion of her arm told me all I needed to know.

“Would you?”

I smiled wryly, “Would I what Linea?”

“Would you fuck…” she paused and looked at Markus.  Her gaze led me to him, his eyes heavy, mouth pouting.  Her hand held him, quickly erect; she stared down to it, smiled into his eyes, and licked her top lip.  It made him gasp long and airily.  I made out its outline, her stimulation of her lover provoked me, each rising thump of my heart pumped blood into my burgeoning erection.

Our eyes met, her gaze steeped with arousal, “Would you fuck both of us?”

She stared at me again and then lingered at my rigid penis.  Linea opened her legs; her free hand splayed her sex and revealed her clitoral piercing.  Eyes narrowed to slits, she penetrated herself.  Leaning back onto my outstretched arms, thighs parted, they examined the upright curve of my thick penis and tight balls.

The metronome of my excited body flooded my mind with the compulsion to act.  Two weeks of introspection tempered my fleeting nerves and compressed itself into one simple question.

“You want this?” I asked, rhetorical perhaps, I wanted the words to have a different kind of power.

They nodded slowly and she looked to Markus, and kissed him deeply.  “He is going to fuck you Markus.”

He groaned, “Are you Harry?  Are you going to fuck me?”

He looked so hopeful and in a small way, vulnerable.

I nodded, “Yes.”

“And me too?” asked Linea quietly.

“We both are, aren’t we Markus?”

“Yes,” he gasped back.

A soft feminine gasp halted our exchange as two nimble fingers slid deeper into her sex.

Easing into his lap, she rewarded his state of arousal with her lips around his length.  Pressed against the inside of her mouth, she stared at me.  She rested on his smooth stomach, his penis stiff and long, a hostage to her ministrations.  Balls plump and tight, cupped by her hand as her fingers massaged his perineum.  Eyes wide, she watched me stand, long shadows wavered from the flickering flames and the grey light of two lamps.

It jutted from me, hard and fierce.  I stared at Markus’ features, soft, handsome, and he turned to face it.  Provoking a groan, I gasped at how velvety his mouth felt, and as a side-glance, Linea watched avidly. 

Mindful of what I wanted for so long, I seized on this new reality.  Senses attenuated, body and mind unified by lust, the fusion of narcotics and arousal blended my moans with his.

He sucked cock well, with a skilful slow attention to the tip, glans, and shaft.  I held it for him and Linea rose, transfixed.  The soft vacuum of her kiss goaded me, hands roamed; she squeezed my behind and pressed her naked body against me.  Taking my hand, a fleeting caress of her sex left its moisture on my fingers. 

Onto her knees, her slim fingers captured my girth.  She held it for Markus, looked up and they took turns, licking and sucking.  A look of obedience in their eyes confected a delicious torture.  A crackle from the campfire drowned out the faint noise of cicadas and the ocean.  Two soft tongues flicked at the smooth skin of my neglected balls.  Disappearing from view, I felt Linea’s hands pull on my thighs and the eager lash of her tongue teased my anus.

Onanism never appealed to me for its waste of sexual prowess and sperm.  Quickly, my full balls ached.  Driven solely by intuition, these two lithe half-strangers worked on me, mouths, tongues, fingers.  The tingle in my loins swelled and tightened hard; I knew that feeling - the intense need to copulate.

“Yes darling, keep sucking his penis,” purred Linea.

She stood and the silhouette of her body moved elegantly to their tent. 

“Yes, don’t stop,” I growled as a groan from my diaphragm rumbled into him.

Markus, undaunted, worked me with more enthusiasm.  Looking up at me, his mouth a perfect seal, I ran my fingers through his tousled hair and admired his handsome features.  The tension pressed hard and made a knot of muscle as firm as stone.

Returning to us, she revealed her purpose; I felt his whimpers on my aching muscle.  That look on her face, I knew what she was doing; she leered at me unable to hide her sentiment.

Her delicate hand pushed me back, “Doggy-style Markus, I want to watch him fuck you.”

Prostrate on her knees, her silken mouth enveloped me.  Her arm moved tightly, hand to her sex, rifling her slit. 

From the crease of his taut arse, I lingered at that crunched muscle and watched Linea finger him.  Glistening with lubrication, I wanted to defile it.  She did not need to work on me long to know I was ready to fuck.  Cool liquid; zero friction followed and coated the curve of my fully aroused length.  Looking to Markus, I enjoyed the swell of his smooth perineum, his balls full and tight, and the length of his erection hung down on its short tendons.

Linea met my eyes, “Yes, you like it?”

I swallowed and nodded.

She purred, “Then we will both share it.”

Her firm grasp of my penis lead me onto my knees, as if I might change my mind.  Rubbing my glans over his puckered hole, she smeared more lube over us both.  Her look of fascination did not waver, ready to witness our reactions at the moment of penetration.

The fat head of my penis pressed against his opening.  I watched it defeat his entrance easily and disappear inside.  We all gasped, Markus the loudest, his head reared up and Linea mollified him with two juice soaked fingers in his mouth. 

At the small of my back, Linea’s hand caressed and pushed gently, “Slowly, he is very tight no?”

I nodded, the lack of friction made it easier, yet his taut resistance made me pull on his hips.  He did not struggle, he felt wiry and muscular in my hands.  Impaling him by degrees, the snug envelopment made me push firmer each time.

“Yes, fuck me.”

Markus should not have goaded me, vodka, marijuana and lust made for a heady combination.  Linea pushed on the small of my back again in encouragement.  The long travel of my hips gave him his wish.  Linea’s fascination never wavered, thighs splayed, sex fingered, she consumed the spectacle.

A seldom-experienced act of sodomy, he felt tight with long walls of muscle that gripped me completely.  His moans felt good as he braced for every thrust.  I knew how that burning sensation gave way to pleasure and once it did, it radiated from the prostate as waves of deep satisfaction.  I gave him that pleasure and Linea revelled in it, took his erect penis, and stroked him.  Pulling his athletic body toward me on the upswing, my heavy balls slapped against his body.

It felt an age, intoxicated like this would do that.  Distracted as Linea yelped, she trembled and pressed her legs together.  Her body slowed from the hips, she withdrew her hand and reclined onto her elbows.  Breasts melded into her torso, she took deep lunges of air, still unable to avert her eyes.  Our stare did not waver until she moved, and her tender fingers caressed the valley of my spine.  Her mouth pressed to mine, a tip of her soft tongue provoked my response; it was a false prospectus. 

Between the cleft of my behind, her finger pressed and defeated my entrance, it travelled deeper as she suffocated my moans.  To that place, that swell and the flat of her finger incited it.  I growled and she broke from me, silently she nodded, and I enjoyed the special telepathy that only they shared.

“Cum inside him,” words for Markus’ benefit, he groaned too.

She fingered me faster and I bucked my turbo-charged hips.

From the sounds of his erratic breathing, Markus was in a state, “Yes… oh God… yes… cum in my ass.”

I heard those words only in the annals of pornography.  Here, when only a few hours ago I was alone, now I felt this communion.  Rubbing at her own sex, Linea looked at me lasciviously.  She pressed that digit deeper and watched my reaction.  Witnessing how it unlocked my release, I pulsed deep in his bowels, that tell-tale swell before climax. 

Markus groaned and I glanced at the haughty expression on Linea’s face, “Yes, do it, cum in my boyfriend.”

His tight passage and her exquisite finger left me bereft of control.  It did not take long, Linea’s determination put paid to my resistance.  A deep kiss, my nipple skilfully plucked, she fully penetrated me and grazed that spot mercilessly.  The jolt made my thighs tremble, the vicious unwinding of tension bucked my hips, forced my perineum into spasm, and clamped my erection deep into Markus. 

Molten lava at my core burst its banks and I bucked uncontrollably.  Loud groans, a squeal of surprise, and the swell of pulsating muscles delivered too many days’ worth of my seed into his bowels.  I devoured the vicious intensity with all the fervour of a starving addict.  Markus pushed back on my clumsy shoves as groans turned into fits of roars. 

Convulsing through every shudder, a luxurious warmth competed with its dying spasms until my breathing softened and radiating body stilled.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

We fell still some hours later; my balls numb with a consoling emptiness.  Crumpled before me, Linea laid on her front, thighs open.  The last of our essence, thin as gruel, seeped from the gash of her sex and the knot of her behind.  A pack of wild dogs had more decorum, lust took control, and we used all seven of our orifices to sate it. 

Our temptress got her just desserts.  After fucking Markus, we took time to recover, frothy words and jokes, more vodka, marijuana, and a seduction in the warm waters of the sea.

Markus had her first, a tempestuous fuck to expel his aggravated need.  Alone for miles, their echoes of anguish drowned out the waning tide.  Watching his perineum pulse, he rolled off her once spent.  The copious pearly trickle that leaked from her vagina proved too much for me.  I mounted her and at the apex of my first thrust, her limbs clenched me tight to her stricken body.  Hot, slippery, the heat of her muscles and their juices enveloped my penis with a wet softness absent from Markus’ wiry body.

“Fuck you are hard!” she rasped airily.

Possessed by nothing more than a powerful intuition, the stark clarity of the moment felt so right.  Stabbed by her heels, there was no finesse, loud, and urgent; she pleaded for more.  I provoked her climax with an exhibition of sucking Markus’ cock.  Her convulsions, fierce and pathologically strong extracted my orgasm with ease.  She clung to my body, demanded it loudly, and I yielded my seed.

Her implacable body remained insatible; limbs imbued with supernatural strength contorted us both into many positions.  Her climaxes became the currency to trade places with Markus and we explored the pantheon of human sexuality together.

Goading each other with our mouths, I took the tang of her juices from Markus’ penis and he reciprocated with mine.  We shared each other to spur another act of arousal, sucking cock and eating her creamy pussy; we joined in to service her at the same time, and gave into her final request - double penetration. 

A seesaw of our bodies reduced her to sobs and whimpers.  Synchronising our efforts, we plundered her tight holes with rampant hard penises unwilling to yield easily.  Squeezed between us, she tried to empty us, she flailed and thrashed noisily as each climax smeared into another.  We finished with my swollen length impaled deep in her tight arse and Markus sparked the inevitable end with his deep too.  Unloading into her sex, it tipped us both over the edge.  Drenched bodies, heavy with perspiration, I clung on desperately for that final release.

Casting the empty vodka bottle from my bedroll, I laid still.  Eyes heavy, in my line of vision, the delicious curves of their naked bodies became the soliloquy of my dreams.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Arising late morning, washed clean in the meandering brook, we maintained the uneasiest of truces.  Our minds might be willing but by our own admission, our louche bodies felt weak. 

Mother Nature took pity, in an hour of toil under the mid-afternoon sun, I had fish enough for three.  Eating in an atmosphere steeped with flirtatious innuendo and admiring glances; a rising sense of need grew. 

Looking at Markus, I took a long sip of water as he explained their purpose here.  Fingers interlaced with hers, they admitted the serendipity of this encounter was no accident.  Like my own riddle, they chose to solve theirs together and they made a pact: to share each other as a couple. 

I envied them; my chance to find someone like that eluded me so far.  A female partner-in-crime felt so appealing. 

Linea picked up the story: spurred on by Petra, she told them of my desires and came here in the hope to quell their own.  A first threesome with a man, Markus, like me, had dalliances before but not as a couple.  I laughed at veiled compliment, honoured they might seek out such a stranger.  Petra’s vivid descriptions, her fervent use of words and deeds convinced them to come here.

She liked to be in charge and that was their dynamic.  Markus admitted his preference to take cock rather than give it, something I already guessed.  He wanted to watch Linea get her brains fucked out and service them as well.

Linea, always with that wide-eyed look, opened her thighs.  Her piercing caught the light; and its moistness glistened in the beaming sunlight.

“Fuck me again,” she commanded.

He smiled, crawled on all fours as I parted my legs.  Propped up on locked elbows, our stare did not waver.  Markus stiffened me easily, a purposeful exploration of my penis and tightened balls.

“Now my pussy Markus,” and he lapped dutifully as Linea savoured my chunky erection with her soft mouth.

Patient, slow, we fucked in the bright light of the afternoon, an exhibition for Markus to savour.  Our bodies in spoons, her thighs spread, he watched me breech his girlfriend’s sex.  Taking me more than once, Linea watched him suck me and guide me back in.  To the point of climax, his fingers on her clit, she came softly without histrionics.  Missionary next, on locked arms, her hips provided all the travel my erection needed and Markus’ tongue lapped against the knot of my sensitive arse.

“You like that?”

I mumbled as Linea pinched at my nipples.

“Now you cum for me.”

Moving underneath, her hips furious with limbs that fixed me in place, she prized out my climax.  A litany of dirty words, enveloped by that muscular heat, she reduced me to a trembling wreck.

I laid on top of her, consoled by her fingers through my hair, until I deflated.  A rasp of air spilled my essence and I peeled myself from her.

Looking across, Markus’ eagerness met Linea’s broad smile.  Cradling his head softly, he lapped at her sex, her eyes as two thin slits conveyed the moment to me.  Quaking through her abdomen, she took it calmly, as if it were just a regular daily occurrence.

“Mmm,” she purred, “so much better.”

We laid silently to the soulful accompaniment of the waves, until one of us moved, then we all moved.  In fits of giggles, laughter and jokes, we took a swim. 

That night, we made do with sardines, tinned tomatoes, and pasta.  Passing the joint to Linea, I stared out at the leaden sea.  Gazing vacantly out to the horizon, it struck me, the absence of my mistress and her demands.  Filled with peace rather than ingrained hostility, I wanted Linea and Markus to stay as long as they could.  I wanted to see Petra again and spend much more time in her company.

Awoken from my daydream, Linea kissed me softly, her eyes blazed with need and those warm lips took me once more.  Markus, that familiar leer on his face, watched her stoke the embers.  That night, she directed us both, our leader, a sexual raconteur with the confidence of a woman twice her age. 

Markus took it standing, arms outstretched to brace himself against the dune.  Fucking him resolutely, she sucked his penis until the inevitable – the tight spasms of his orgasm.  His groans, the fierce contractions, Linea’s gulping noises, they provoked my ejaculation into him.

That night, we venerated Linea and massaged her prone body with two pairs of hands in a slow, lingering caress.  In the flicking half-light of crackling wood and weak lamps, we soothed her body and induced a state of trembling anticipation.  Fully swollen, very aroused, less frenzied, and more skilful; I felt grateful for its empathy and pace.  We gave her everything we had left, mouth, vagina, and arse filled by cock, fingers and tongues.  

Filled with semen, flushed and content, she laid alongside me.  Markus spooned behind her asleep, an idle arm around her waist.  Her gaze flickered and silently she mouthed her gratitude.  The soporific sound of waves claimed her body and mind.  Into the inky void I travelled; the finest sleep I ever experienced.

As the happiest and most fulfilling experience of my life, we wrung out every drop.  Reluctantly, we had to accept the practicalities of our existence.  After three incredible days and nights, our staple foods exhausted, we packed our tents and made our way together to the Taverna.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Linea and Markus wanted a siesta; we all needed to wash off the sweat and dust.  Two rooms in the guesthouse were not a problem, at least not for a few days.

Petra looked better than I remembered and I feared her reaction.  I checked my gait, my demeanour, fearful of my own hubris that the prodigal lover had returned.

Striking features fixed in an idle expression of sexual menace, I reacquainted myself with that sensual whish in her gait.  It flowed in the breeze, shiny raven hair on an athlete’s body, and a tempest between the sheets.  Unprepared by her welcome, her kiss teased me with the tip of her tongue.

Personally escorted to my room, the familiar pension style, ample space, tiled everything and simple furniture, it felt homely.

Quick to resume where we left off, Petra cornered me in the shower.  Grappling with her limbs for dominance, a joust for supremacy, and I tamed her with my mass.  That pout as I impaled her, a false submission of her temperament, a snarl of need waned into moans as my rapid hips nailed her against the tiled wall. 

A hiss of air, sharp noised to sustain a fevered kiss; her nails dug into my back.  I yelped and her words implored me to ‘fuck her cunt hard’.  Giving her the climax she craved, that wet velvet slit leaked her juices onto my balls.  Clamping tightly, almost enough to tip me over the edge, her steely gaze enjoyed my predicament.  She pushed me down, straddled by body, and rode the resistance from me until every sinew stiffened.  Under the cascade of cool water, with a calm triumphalism, she took the lot between her legs.

We laid in the bed and stared at the lazy ceiling fan.  Petra was not one for flowery words and I liked her bluntness.  Her enquiring mind would not cease until I promised to describe everything that happened on that beach.  I watched her reaction, face flushed, nipples erect, and a tawdry heat between her legs.  

Impaled on my fingers, coated in our confection, my thumb circled her erect clit as I recalled everything in graphic detail.  Clasping the headboard, she listened intently and bit her lip; her orgasm arrived so simply.  Refusing to stop, she clasped the headboard, the sounds of the straining bed and her moans echoed off the walls.  Blotchy skin, eyes ablaze, I added more detail nonchalantly.  I elaborated on the acts of sodomy, fellatio, double-penetration, and the act of ejaculation into a man’s anus.  Wound up like a coiled spring, from her curled toes, through trembling legs, she climaxed, hard, something with meaning.

Swearing copiously in English and Greek, she struck me with a pillow.  My carefree laughter melted her protestations.  I promised her tonight would be special; I painted a picture with filthy words.  She grabbed my hand and pressed to her glossy sex.  My desire for a night of debauchery, the four of us, turned her moans into ragged breathing.  She took another urgent climax.

We ate that night, a feast of fish and vegetables.  Fuzzyheaded on crisp white wine, we watched Petra wait on tables; she smiled, posed for us, and tortured us.  Linea struggled to contain herself and neither could Markus.  Fiendishly, I provoked them and confessed what happened earlier.  The idea of Petra before us, eager for cock, pussy and plenty of fucking, it brought Linea’s caress to our enflamed loins.  Markus looked so flushed; he had expression on his face I knew well.

“A foursome?” enquired Linea, incredulous as if all her birthdays came at once.

Surreptitiously, I teased the soft folds of her sex with my fingers.  Splaying her labia, I released its wetness.

I nodded slowly, “A bisexual foursome.”

That hour was sixty minutes too long.

Late, in my room, Markus wanted it on his back, a hard fucking, an exhibition fuck as much as a pleasurable one.  My firm grip of his ankles, the canter of my hips raided his tight behind.  Petra and Linea watched with wandering hands and taunted us with an approving commentary. 

Impossible to spectacle for long, Petra rode his erection; Linea presented her sex to his mouth.  We brought him to the brink, to the cusp of climax, and tortured him on that plateau.  He begged, his pleading unanswered, until he swelled beyond the brink.  Petra stared into my eyes and with the pout of my femme fatale; she took his semen as well. 

Presented to Linea on her knees, Petra’s fingers in my anus and her skilful grasp vented energetic ropes of sperm.  They painted her brittle features and splashed into her mouth.

They shared our seed and added fuel to flames that already burned brightly.  Markus and I watched the congress of two women and its difference; a clash of sexual titans, long in its build up, heavy with provocation, and rich in its reward.  With gluttonous eyes, we watched and stoked each other.  The flushed beauty of their faces etched with pleasure and the evocative contortions of their lithe bodies.  The collective noun for female orgasms eluded us as they strived to make the next more profound that the last.  A mashing together of their bodies, loud, legs scissored, they ground at each other in a race to finish second.  Petra took the prize, upright before Linea’s body wracked with seizures.  Grinding softly, she surrendered and pleaded breathlessly for mercy.

Markus and I swapped; we teamed up on them too.  A face full of swollen vagina, we double-penetrated Petra until she crumpled into a heap of limbs.  Linea got the same until we could not hold back and filled her with cum.

At the end, Petra was there, her fingers in my ass, a demanding grasp of my erection until scant drops splashed onto Linea’s smooth sex.  I never experienced such an evocative high or the deep exhaustion that followed.

Whilst our imaginations might run forever, time would not.  In our final embraces with Markus and Linea, I crunched my eyes tight to sear the memory in my mind.  We exchanged e-mail addresses and phone numbers, and an invitation to Stockholm if I took to my travels again.

Yet, summer was a long way from over, Petra’s generosity gave me a bed to sleep in – hers.  I paid for my board in meals at the taverna and as a plaything for her and the others that shared our bed.  Couples, men, women, nothing sated our combined appetite and proclivities.  We agreed that nothing surmounted those two nights with Linea and Markus.

Sitting outside the guesthouse, under a parasol, Petra hid behind sunglasses.  Happy in the silence between us, I reflected on how life felt now compared to then.  This life of easy sexual excess and non-committal companionship rendered my mistress long forgotten.  Enjoying the warm embrace of what drove me; I knew what inspired me, and who I was.  As comfortable as my favourite pair of jeans, I vowed never to go back to the pale-skinned lily-livered creature I was.

“You know Harry,” the soft lilt of her accent as soothing as the sea breeze, “someone told me that everyone should have a purpose.”

“An ex-lover?”

Petra nodded, “Yes, he was smart but not so much in bed.”

Raising my eyebrows, I smiled, “What is your purpose Petra?”

She took a sip from the straw in her drink; her stare never wavered from mine.

“To fuck.”  Her lips curled, a half-snarl and half-invitation, “I wait on tables to find new sexual partners, I serve them, and then they serve me.”

Prodding the ice in my drink, I looked up and flashed my eyebrows, “Don’t I know it.”

Leaning back, arms outstretched, she knew I could see her curve of braless breasts and hard nipples, “And you Harry, what is yours?”

If she asked me that question months ago, a babbling nonsense would pollute the air.  It felt easy now, “Simple, to fuck without lies.”

Leaning in, she took my hand, her mouth eased into an enigmatic curve; she bared her teeth.  Nodding slowly, I watched the thought play out in her mind. 

She smiled wider, “I like that.  Perhaps next year, I go to college and fuck without lies there.  Maybe I come back here and do the same.  I don’t care.”

I nodded too, “I don’t care, I fuck without lies.”

We did too; it became the maxim for all the time I spent here, the answer to all the soul searching.

Days blurred into weeks and into months.  As autumn edged into the first crisp mornings of winter, the naturists melted away.  My means depleted, it hurt to say goodbye.  Petra, to the last, showed stoicism, and with a thumb, I wiped away a solitary tear.

“You must have something in your eye,” I stated as she sniffed, nodded, and broke out a weak smile.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The doors slammed tight shut and the low rumble of motive force snapped me out of it.  The heaving train pulled out of the station.  Dank air, heavy with the smell of wet wool and metallic heat, fat spring raindrops streaked across the windows.  Whisked to another soulless business meeting, slumped in my seat, I knew those vivid memories would never die.  I could still feel Petra’s last embrace.

It seized me in that idle moment; I heard its clarion call.  Seconds later, I felt it grow, that pang; excitement and anxiety rose as the restless itch that coursed through my body.

I smiled, my new mistress called.

Wanderlust.