Lust And Love On The Island Of Rhodes free porn video

Three months after leaving New York as a galley boy on a Norwegian freighter and stopping at many ports in Egypt, Yemen, Iraq, and Iran, peeling sixty pounds of potatoes every morning washing pots and pans, scrubbing the galley floor three times a day, and enduring the intense heat of the Persian Gulf, we were back in the Mediterranean again, heading west toward Spain.

Late, one morning, it was announced we would stop at the island of Rhodes to make an emergency engine repair. I didn’t know what was wrong, but knew I was getting closer to my original destination of Europe. My original plan to sign off in Lisbon three months earlier and make my way to Paris and the Left Bank, then to Copenhagen, fell apart when Portugal was canceled, and our first port would be Beirut, Lebanon—three thousand miles away. So much for plans. I had no choice but to stay on board and work, earn some money, and then, eventually, if all went well, sign off in Spain.

When we arrived in Rhodes, I was given the afternoon off to go ashore, and believe me, I needed a day off. All the sailors were given the afternoon off after months in Muslim ports where women were not available, so you can imagine how wired and horny we were on the shuttle to the pier.

I went to a few bars in the center of town with the chief cook, my boss, and a few other sailors. One of the bars was called the Kit Kat Club where women wearing tight, low cut dresses got the sailors to buy them drinks, sat on their laps, leaned their teasing bodies against them, and then would either leave with a sailor on her arm, or walk up the narrow stairs to the rooms above the bar. I nursed a beer and watched the scene.

One older, chubby woman with thin strands of hair growing from a mole on her chin put her hand on my thigh and whispered, “Hi, Johnny, buy me drink and we have fun.” I wasn’t sure what to do, since I was definitely not attracted to her and said no. She pouted, stood up, scowled and stuck out her tongue, then left and sat down with one of the other sailors.

I found the whole scene of watching the sailors getting drunk and raunchy with the women fascinating. My writer’s mind was taking snapshots, observing everything, when suddenly, a big fight broke out, and I thought I was in the Wild West. It was a brawl with shouting, punching, sailors wrestling on the floor, throwing chairs, knocking over tables, breaking bottles, while I sat in a corner, stunned by the craziness. After watching the punches and chairs flying, I thought I had better get out of there before somebody grabbed me and threw me against the wall.

It was mid-afternoon and when I saw a shop down the street that rented bicycles and motorcycles, I decided to explore the countryside and rented a bicycle. The owner, a pudgy man with a bushy mustache and a missing front tooth, handed me a sheet of paper advertising a country café called Arcadia, and then in broken English said, “Good place. Sexy women, you will like,” then made a fist and sharply punched the air down towards the ground imitating thrusting and fucking. He winked at me then pointed in the direction. “Not far. Go. You will like.”

I took the paper and decided to find the place. Why not? I thought and hopped on the bike. I rode past the bar where the fighting was still taking place and could hear the shouting, then continued over the cobblestone streets of the old city, past the harbor and saw the stone base where the Colossus of Rhodes once stood, supposedly one of the Seven Wonders of the World. I could tell by how far apart the marble bases were that the huge statue must have towered over the island before collapsing in an earthquake over a thousand year ago.
Within five minutes, I was in the country side riding my bike on a narrow dirt road next to the stone covered beach and, looking out at the blue green sea, could feel the hot afternoon sun on me as I rode slowly up a steep hill, straining my legs and finding it harder to pedal. Out of breath and about to get off and push the bicycle the rest of the way, I went around a bend and there it was at the top of the steep hill--the Arcadia Café with its white stone walls gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Sweating and eager to stop and get a cold drink, I leaned my bike against a big rock, entered the café, and immediately felt the coolness from the thick walls. It was dark inside and no one was around. I glanced at the empty tables, the sawdust on the floor and a small wooden bar against one wall with a variety of bottles lined on a shelf behind it. At the rear of the café was an outdoor seating area with several tables and a magnificent view of the Mediterranean. I decided to sit at one of the tables on the stone patio and wondered if someone would see me. After a few moments, I walked back inside, coughed and hoped someone would hear me. A minute later, a small, bald headed man with a pot belly, thin mustache and goatee appeared from a back room, carrying a case of beer.

He greeted me with a smile, then put down the box and spoke to me in Greek. When I said,“I want a beer,” his smiling eyes widened. “Ah, America. You are American.”

“Yes, I'm from the ship,” I said, and pointed to the blue water.

“You are sailor,” he answered, nodding, narrowing his eyes, a slight smile on his lips. “I bring beer. I treat you good. Sit and enjoy.”

I walked outside to the patio and took my seat at the round table. Glancing back at him at the bar, he was talking to someone on the phone but looking at me. When our eyes met, he lifted his finger, indicating he would be a minute. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but when he brought me the bottle of beer and a glass, he smiled, then said, “I want you to have good time at my café. You will see.”

“Thank you. It’s very beautiful here.”

“Where from in America are you?” he asked with his thick accent.

“Philadelphia.” I watched him nod and smile, obviously excited to have an American sailor in his café.

“Yes, Philadelphia, I have cousin in Chicago,” he said, pausing. “I want to go to America someday and make money.”

When he left, I looked out at the Mediterranean and marveled at how calm the blue water seemed. I drank my beer and enjoyed the view and the quiet. After a few minutes, I heard a sound inside the café and was stunned to see a young, petite woman wearing a tight, very short black skirt and a white low cut peasant blouse that barely covered her large breasts. When I saw how the owner greeted her, I couldn't believe how young and beautiful she was. That’s why he was on the phone. He called her. Just like the Kit Kat Club, owners wanted women to seduce men to buy them drinks.

When she stood in the doorway between the café and the patio, she hesitated a moment, took a deep breath, as if gathering nerve, then, somewhat shyly, walked to my table, and I could see her breasts and nipples through the thin material of her white blouse. As she came closer, I was dazzled by her dark eyes gazing into mine, her full sensual lips with a slight smile, her radiant olive skin, high cheek bones, and long, wild dark hair curling half way down her back. Dangling earrings swung as she walked and a necklace with a small cross rested just above her cleavage.

“May I sit with you,” she asked in a sweet, soft voice, and when I said yes, she sat in the wooden chair next to mine. I could see she knew why she was here but seemed a little uncomfortable and uncertain. I couldn’t tell her age but sensed she was not experienced with what she was called to do by the owner; yet, here she was smiling at me, looking into my eyes, leaning forward, clearly wanting me to see her large breasts.

“I’m Annika. I would like to keep you company. Do you mind?”

“Hello, Annika. My name is Peter. I like your name.”

“I am glad to meet you.” She shook my hand and held it for a few seconds before letting it go and looked at me with a shy, sweet smile on her lips. She’s so different, I thought, fascinated by her.

She spoke excellent English with a slight accent and a soft voice and manner. The contrast between the Kit Kat Club and the Arcadia Café, high on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean, couldn’t have been more different. I imagined the place in town was probably now a shambles after the fighting. I couldn’t believe my good fortune to be in such a wonderful spot with a beautiful and sexy, young woman, who seemed both shy and brazen, looking at me with big brown eyes, but there was something about her slight smile, her sensuous lips that was both innocent and inviting.

“Can I buy you a drink,” I asked, knowing that was what was expected and, at the same time, getting aroused by the way she looked at me with that sweet smile, how she leaned forward, revealing her breasts, and felt my own expectations getting hard in my jeans.

“That would be very kind of you. I like you. You have nice eyes.”

“So do you. You’re very beautiful,” I said, glancing at her cleavage, then at her brown eyes smiling into mine and noticed her soft, sensuous lips. She looks so young and innocent and sexy.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, blushing slightly with that sweet, shy smile, then surprised me when she leaned back in her chair and crossed her leg, causing her tight, short skirt to rise higher, and reveal her tan, smooth thighs. She wore leather sandals and pushed one off, leaving it barefooted.

Just then the owner appeared at the door. I asked Annika what she would like to drink.

“I do not drink much, but I would like a glass of white wine, thank you.”

I turned to him, “Would you bring Annika a glass of the local white wine.”

“Yes,” he said, smiling and nodding at her before disappearing into the building.

As soon as he left, Annika surprised me again by moving her bare foot to my leg, touching it with her toe and looking into my eyes, a slight playful smile on her lips as she slowly moved her foot up the inside of my leg to my thigh, causing me to spread my legs, as she moved her bare foot to my hard cock and pressed the arch of her foot against the bulge straining my jeans. She didn’t say a word as she gazed into my eyes while moving her foot up and down my hard cock, smiling slightly, clearly seducing me with her tantalizing manner. Damn, I’m so hard. She sure knows what’s she’s doing…this feels so good.

“You want to have fun with me?” She smiled into my eyes and continued to slowly move her foot up and down my jean-covered cock, playing the expected role.

Before I answered, the old man appeared with the white wine, placed it in front of her and glanced down at her foot pressed against my cock, then smiled at me, as if he was not surprised at what was happening. I wondered what their relationship was, but at the moment, knew it was clearly of mutual benefit. I knew she was a whore but sensed not experienced, or comfortable in this role. She had a shy innocence and vulnerability about her that made her both devilishly sexy and angelic--someone who was being seductive because she was called to entertain me and have me spend money, but not completely in her nature to do. It was strangely appealing.

Without taking her foot away, she leaned forward and clicked my glass of beer against her glass of wine.

“To fun.” She laughed and lifted her glass but kept her bare foot pressed against my hard cock.

“To fun,” I repeated, then took a sip of my beer, while she moved her glass to her lips and gazed into my eyes over the rim with a playful, teasing smile on her lips before taking a sip.

“Do you like me?” She held the glass to her lips and took another sip, her eyes gazing at mine, then surprised me by taking a deeper drink, finishing half the glass in one gulp.

“Yes, you’re very beautiful.” I looked into her eyes, then at her nipples poking at the thin material and her enticing cleavage barely covered by the low cut blouse, then at her smooth tan leg stretched between my legs, her short skirt high on her thighs, her small foot moving slowly up and down my throbbing erection.

“I like you. You are American sailor and you want to have a good time.”

“Yes, I do want to have a good time.” I liked how blatantly honest we were being, how tantalizing and erotic, and how amazing it was to be here on this hilltop in the middle of nowhere with this young, vulnerable, beautiful, sexy woman with her foot on my cock, the cleavage from her large breasts showing and straining against her white blouse.

With her sweet brown eyes on mine, she finished her wine, then slowly licked her lower lip, then her upper lip. Damn, I want that tongue on my cock.

“Would you buy me another glass of wine?” she asked, lifting up her empty glass.

“Of course,” I said and nodded, but I didn’t want to stand up and go for the owner with this big tent in my jeans.

“I will bring you another drink. I want to serve you.” She pressed her foot harder against my cock, before removing it, then walked barefooted to the entrance of the café, her hips swaying slightly, the tight, short skirt barely covering her ass. She turned and looked at me, knowing where I was looking and smiled, then called to the owner, “Paul, bring us two more drinks.”

She turned to me and smiled, then added “Two glasses of white wine.”

When she returned to the table, rather than sitting down, she stood in back of me, put her arms around me, kissed the back of my head, then pressed her breasts against my shoulders and slowly moved her hand down my chest, reaching her hand between my legs and started rubbing my bulging cock with her palm. Oh my God, she's driving me crazy.

I closed my eyes, loving the sensation of her hand rubbing my hard cock, her large soft breasts pressed against my shoulders, her mouth kissing my head before moving to my ear and licking and tickling my ear lobe. Then she gripped the length of my cock and squeezed, “Mmm, so big and hard.”

Just then, Paul cleared his throat at the patio door and came to the table with two glasses of white wine. Annika glanced at him, then stopped holding my cock and sat down across from me. I thanked Paul and he nodded and smiled.

Annika looked up at him. “Thank you for calling me and introducing me to this handsome sailor.” She glanced back at me, then at the bulge between my legs.

Paul nodded and looked at both of us, then smiled, bowed slightly and left.

Annika turned to me. “Thank you for buying me another glass of wine.”

“It’s my pleasure. We’re here to have fun, aren’t we?”

“Yes, I want us to have fun.” She again lifted her glass to mine, her eyes sparkling, then laughed, “To fun.”

“Yes, to fun,” I added, clicking her glass, smiling at her exuberance and vitality, still sensing she was performing, becoming what she was expected to be, but also hiding who she was and sensed her sadness and vulnerability.

I took a sip of the sweet wine while she took a big gulp, drinking half the glass, and I knew by the way she was drinking, she wanted to get drunk and was leading the way to both of us getting drunk and buying more of Paul’s wine. I knew that’s why he called her, but didn’t care. I knew I was being exploited and wanted the wild adventure this afternoon was bringing me after so many months at sea.

At the same time, I was curious about Annika and her life. I wanted to be a writer and left on the freighter to go to Paris where many of my favorite writers lived in the twenties. I was disillusioned with America, its crass commercialism and the emptiness that clashed with my idealism. I wanted to feel alive. I wanted experiences so that my stories would come out of my life. I wanted to meet people, hear their stories and spent many hours on the ship talking to the other sailors, learning who they were, what they had experienced.

But now, getting drunk with Annika, I wanted to know more about this sexy, young girl, not sure how old she was. Who was she? Why was she a whore? Why was this beautiful, seductive young woman selling herself? What were her dreams and passions? What did she want for her life? At the same time, I wanted to fuck her brains out and take full advantage of what was being offered to me.

Still, my writer’s mind was fascinated by life’s little twists and turns, how circumstances you never plan become events that can change your life. I wanted to know her, not just use her to satisfy my lust. She was beautiful and fascinating, and I knew if we talked and felt closer, our time in bed would be more than animalistic fucking.

I took a deep drink of my wine, finished half the glass, then put it down and watched Annika do the same, holding her head back, her long, dark hair hanging over the back of the chair. I watched her swallow and finish the wine, then put her glass on the table and look at me with that sweet, but devilish smile on her lips.

“I’m getting drunk. Thank you, sailor.”

“So, my beautiful friend, who are you?”

“Who am I?” She raised her eyebrows at my question. “What do you mean, who am I? Why do you care?”

“I’m a curious person. I want to know you.” I leaned forward, looking at her surprised face.

“There is not much to know. I am a simple person. I live on my father’s farm where we grow olives. I work hard. I am strong.” She paused and looked into my eyes. “But I am lonely for a man.”

“Is that why Paul called you?”

“Yes, Paul is my father’s friend. Very nice man and calls me sometimes to make money for me and him. Does that answer your question?”

“Partly,” I answered. “But does being a whore make you less lonely.”

She winced at the word and paused before answering. “No, I do not like being a whore, but we are poor so I do what I must.”

We were both silent, her words resonating with acceptance and resignation. She took another deep breath and looked at me, smiled, then looked away with a flicker of sadness in her eyes. Then she turned to the doorway, “Paul, more wine.”

“You speak very good English for a simple farm girl. How did you learn English?”

“I go to the convent and learn English. I love to read stories,” she said. “Love stories. I like romance. I like passion.” She paused, “Not so much what I am told to read at the convent school.”

“I see,” I said, thinking about her words. “The convent, are you religious?”

“I don’t know. I want to be, but I have thoughts and feelings that make it hard for me.”

“What do you mean your thoughts and feelings make it hard?”

She hesitated, looking into my eyes. She bit her lower lip and just as she was about to speak, Paul brought out two glasses, removed our other glasses and put the big bottle of white wine on the table and said, “Enjoy!”

I looked up at him, aware that he wanted me to spend money and have a good time. We were already feeling woozy, but neither of us said anything.

“More wine, my sailor.” She smiled and held up her empty glass.

I filled her glass and mine, then looked at her taking a big sip, but I wanted to hear why her thoughts and feeling made religion hard for her.

“What is the problem? Why do your thoughts and feelings make it hard?” I took another sip of my wine. Both of us were getting drunker, but it felt good to be getting to know her.

“I am told I should be a virgin when I marry but I am not a virgin. I love fucking and I do not want to marry like I am expected to do.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that. You told me you were lonely for a man. There is something so young and innocent about you. I know why you’re here, but you don’t seem comfortable. I can tell by how much you want to be drunk, you are not comfortable.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Please, I want to have fun and not think.”

“Does your father know you’re here?” I asked, ignoring her request.

“No. My father is strict. He is why I went to the convent. My mother died six years ago when I was twelve. He would be angry if he knew I was here, but Paul always calls me when men are here. He is my father’s friend, but he knows me better than my father. He is not strict like my father and knows I want money. We are poor and I like to buy jewelry and sexy clothes and I want excitement.”

“Does your father know what you spend your money on? Does he know how you make money?”

“No, I must hide and sneak away. He would not like it at all. He thinks I am a good girl, and I am, but, you know, I do what I must to have fun and get what I want. I like to make men look at me. I want to be sexy.”

“So you are a good girl who wants to be bad.”

“Yes,” she laughed. “I am a good girl who wants to be bad. Does that bother you?”

“Not at all,” I chuckled and could see both her shy innocence and yearning. “I think you should be the person you want to be. It’s your life. It’s important to be honest with who you are.”

“I like you. I like how you think.” She smiled and leaned back in her chair causing her short skirt to slide higher on her smooth thighs.

“You want to be a free spirit.” I looked into her eyes, then at her barely covered thighs.

“Yes, I want to be free. I want to have fun and be honest with who I am. I want passion and romance.”

She smiled and kept her legs spread apart, her skirt high on her smooth thighs. I could see her red panties tight against her pussy and could tell they were wet. She then started opening and closing her legs, teasing me, then stopped and kept her legs wide apart, clearly inviting me to look at what she was revealing, her eyes gazing into mine, watching my reaction.

“You want danger,” I said, aware of what she was doing and also how drunk she was. “You want to be devilish.” I added, glimpsing at the red panties, her skirt barely covering her crotch. When she leaned back, her breasts strained her sheer blouse, her nipples practically piercing the thin material. I saw the playful smile on her lips, her brown seductive eyes watching me. I leaned back in my chair and spread my legs apart. She looked at my hard cock bulging in my jeans, while I watched her white teeth bite her lower lip, our eyes gazing into each other eyes, both of us teasing and seducing each other.

“You are right. It’s my life and I want to feel everything there is to feel. I am also an artist. I love to draw and paint and write poetry. I want to have fun, but I also am serious.”

“You are fascinating and not as simple as you say you are.”

“Yes, I am simple, but my life makes it hard. I know what I want and I will do what I have to do to get it.”

“Is that why you’re a whore? Is that why you’re here to lure a sailor to your bed for money?”

“Yes,” she said and stood up, wobbling slightly from the wine and looked down at me leaning back in my chair, my legs stretched out towards her, my hard cock bulging in my jeans. I could see she was drunk. She smiled and came to me, spreading her legs to straddle me, her tight skirt high on her thighs straining against her hips. She lowered herself and pressed her wet, panty covered pussy against my hard cock straining my jeans. She put her arms around my shoulder then kissed me hard, opening my mouth with her insistent tongue.

I returned her intense kissing, our tongues swirling, the intensity growing, and started grinding my hard cock against her soaked panties. I grabbed and squeezed her ass and pulled her harder against my throbbing cock. Her big soft tits pressed against my chest as our fierce kissing forced loud moans. Our tongues fucked each other’s mouths as our drunken, desperate lust took over, causing us to hump each other harder and harder through the barrier of our clothes.

Suddenly, holding her ass and growing more desperate, I lifted her up and pushed her down onto the table on her back, grabbed her hands and lifted them above her head. I quickly spread her legs wide apart, pounced on her and continued grinding and humping her harder, our passionate kissing driving us mad. She lifted her ass off the table as we humped each other harder, causing the wine bottle and empty glasses to wobble as the table shook.

I released her hands and reached to pull her panties off when she suddenly stopped, put her hands on my chest and started squirming to get away. “Stop!” she yelled, pushing me away.

I wondered if she was changing her mind, deciding she didn’t want to be a whore, deciding this was wrong, that she was a good girl and didn’t want to be doing this, but I couldn’t stop. I was crazed for her, but she was strong and was twisting and squirming, then suddenly she pushed me harder, forcing me off of her. She jumped to her feet and dashed across the patio to a stairway leading to the second floor. At the bottom of the steps, she turned and laughed, “If you want me, come get me.”

I couldn’t believe the sudden turn events, but saw her run up the steps, stumble, obviously drunk, then made her way up the steep stairs to a door. I ran after her and started up the steps.

She then pulled her blouse down revealing her tits, her legs wide apart, straining her short tight skirt, her hands on her hips in a playful strident pose and laughed. “If you want to fuck your whore, come get me, sailor.”

She opened the door and ran into the room. When I entered, she was by the bed, slipping off her red panties, then threw them at my face and laughed.

“You think you’re tough, don’t you,” I said, moving closer.

As I moved, she squirmed out of her tight skirt and threw that at me which I caught and tossed over my shoulder. “You’re asking for trouble,” I said, moving towards her.

She sat down on the bed and leaned her back against the pillows with her big tits hanging out over her blouse, her legs wide apart and her hand rubbing her pussy.

“This is what you want, isn’t it, sailor? You want me to be your whore.”

I moved to the bed and scrambled out of my jeans. I wore no underwear and my hard cock stood straight out. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened as she looked at my cock and rubbed her dripping pussy. She’s asking for it. I’m going to fuck her brains out.

I got on the bed and knelt between her wide open legs and grabbed my hard cock, moving closer until I was hovering over her, my cock just above her hand rubbing her pussy, and looked down into her hungry eyes, both of us drunk and horny.

“You’re so big!” She looked at my cock, then into my eyes.

“And you want it, don’t you?” I wanted to reverse roles and tease her like she was teasing me.

“Yes, I want you to fuck me.”

I laughed. “You think you can tease me and I’ll just give you what you want, don’t you?”

“Yes!” She lifted her hand from her wet pussy and reached for my cock.

I slapped it away. “I will fuck you when I’m ready, but now I want to drive you crazy.”

I looked down at her, our eyes fixed on each other, knowing we were in battle of wills.

She lifted her ass off of the bed, arching her back, her whole body reaching for my cock when I quickly pulled away.

“Don’t do this. Fuck me!”

I smiled, looking into her hungry eyes. Her tits looked like ripe melons wanting to be devoured.

“You want it bad, don’t you?”

“Yes, fuck me. Fuck me hard! Let me be your whore!”

Her words excited me. I smiled, looking at her luscious breasts, her hard nipples, and leaned forward, keeping my cock just above her dripping pussy while I sucked on her luscious breast, my tongue licking and sucking her nipple. I grabbed her other breast, squeezing and rubbing it hard and heard her gasps and moans growing louder, her hips lifting for my cock which I moved away, depriving her of what she wanted. Damn she’s one hungry woman. I want to make her crazy.

The wine was liberating our senses and my lust for her was rising beyond my control. I looked down at her swollen pussy lips and at my throbbing hard cock. It was all I could not to ram my cock into her hot cunt.

I grabbed both of her tits and squeezed them together so I could take both of her nipples in my mouth--licking, sucking, biting, twisting and felt her writhing and gasping as I devoured both of her nipples.

She might be a whore who was here to let me fuck her, but I wanted more. I didn’t want to be another man using her. I knew I would never see her again after this day but wanted both of us to have a memory that would last a lifetime, a fuck we would never forget.

“I can’t stand it. I need your cock! Fuck me! Fuck me! Please!”

I ignored her and kept sucking and licking her nipples, determined to make her wait, to torture and tantalize her, hear her beg. She kept lifting her ass from the bed reaching for my cock, but I held it where she could feel the head of my cock on her swollen pussy lips but not have it.

“Give it to me. Fuck me. Please! Please! Don’t to do this to me,” she screamed, arching her back, giving me her pussy. “Fuck your whore!”

Suddenly, I moved my hands and, reaching under her, grabbed her ass and pulled her wet pussy onto my cock, filling her, then with all of my strength, drove her back to the bed with one hard thrust, opening her, taking her, my cock deep in her tight pussy, loving the overwhelming sensation of her warm, wet, tight pussy gripping and squeezing my cock.

“Yes. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” Her screams filled the room.

With my hands gripping her ass, I lifted her again, arching her back before driving her back to the bed with another powerful thrust that filled her tight pussy and caused her to bounce and the headboard to bang against the wall.

“Oh, my god, yes. Fuck me, fuck me. Give it to me harder! Harder! Fuck me harder! I want it harder!”

I was out of my mind, crazed, drunk, our seductive teasing, causing our lust to take us to another realm where our primal animal instincts took over and nothing mattered but our need to explode in huge orgasms and cum all over each other.

She wrapped her legs and arms around me as I lifted her high off of the bed. Gripping her round ass, I pounded her again and again and again, each relentless thrust ramming harder and faster and deeper with all of my strength and sensed that both of us were getting closer to that place where nothing in the world matters but our bodies and spirits climaxing together.

Somehow, I wanted this to last, to keep going, to reach somewhere higher and with the next hard thrust, my cock going as deep as it could, I suddenly stopped and held my cock deep and still in the cavern of her pussy and savored her warm wet walls clutching my cock while her strong legs held me in her depths, both of us knowing we wanted to hold the wonder of our passionate joining for as long as we could and not let go of the amazing pleasure we were bringing to each others lives.

I grabbed her hands, entwining my fingers with hers and stretched her arms above her head. Neither of us moved as we looked into each others eyes and knew we were not only fucking, but we were giving all we could to let this sudden afternoon of lust take us beyond time and space.

Though we had been on the verge of orgasms, we were slowing down, holding each other, giving each other another kind of pleasure. I gripped her hands above her head, my hard cock deep in her wet, tight pussy, as I pinned her to the bed. We looked into each other’s eyes, then kissed, first tenderly, then with more intensity, our tongues swirling as we kissed passionately, wildly, our hands squeezing each others hands, her breasts crushed against my chest, the power of my cock forcing her to surrender, and I loved the warmth of her wet tight pussy embracing my hard throbbing cock.

Annika let go of my hands and grabbed my ass, digging her nails into my flesh, and held me deep in her tight pussy and we slowly started moving-- my hips swiveling and gyrating, my cock filling her, rubbing her soft g-spot and grazing her clit with the slow screwing motion. Looking deep into each other’s eyes, seeing the pleasure on each other’s faces as we held our gasping mouths inches apart. Our bodies moved as one, as if slow dancing to music only we could hear. I moved my fingers through her thick, dark hair, then felt her lift her ass off of the bed, her body telling me she needed more, wanted more, needed my cock to take her higher where she could feel the release that had been building all afternoon.

Feeling her need fed my desire to give her what she needed, to take her, possess and conquer her. She was no longer a whore here to entertain a sailor and fuck him for money. She was a beautiful, passionate, lonely, hungry woman who needed to feel wanted, who was drunk not with wine but with yearning for a man who could give her what she had been craving, and I wanted to be that man.

I grabbed her thick dark hair, wrapping it in my fingers and pulled hard, telling her to give herself to me with complete abandon, that I wanted her more than words could say; that I wanted to possess her, own her, conquer her and fuck her brains out.

“Fuck me! Fuck me hard! Take me!”

Her screaming words brought fire to my mind and body. Our bodies moved faster, my cock slowly sliding from her tight, clenching pussy, a whimper coming from her mouth grew, louder, pleading for me to take her and give her what she craved, needed, wanted. We moved with passionate urgency to where we had been going all afternoon, when I reared my hips and drove my swelling cock deep into her with a hard, sharp thrust, it forced her to scream at the top of her lungs.

“Oh please, please, give it to me harder! Harder! Harder! Oh my god, fuck me, make me yours.”

Her screaming made me grab her legs and lift them over my shoulders and from this angle, pounding downward with all of my strength, driving my hard cock deeper, ramming her juicy pussy like a piston, I fucked her as hard and as powerfully as I could.

“Take it! Take it! Take my cock!”

“Give it to me! Give it to me harder, harder!”

Fucking me like an alley cat in heat, her legs wide apart, her pussy completely open to my pounding, lifting her ass off of the bed, trembling, shaking, screaming at the top of her lungs until her whole body convulsed in a huge, wild orgasm, her tight pussy squirting hot cum all over my cock while I kept thrusting through her orgasm, fucking her savagely like a wild animal.

“Take my cock!” I screamed, my orgasm rising with each hard thrust as she erupted again just as my hot cum gushed into her overflowing pussy, our liquids pouring down the crack of her ass and onto her thighs while my writhing body collapsed on her with intense convulsions that made me dizzy from the biggest orgasm of my life.

Laying heavily on her, unable to budge, panting and gasping for air, I loved the feeling of her body under me, her breasts crushed against my chest, our wetness and the aroma of us. I kissed her shoulder and felt her legs and arms wrap around me, embracing me and holding me to her, and, in those exquisite moments, we were no longer whore and sailor using each other. Somehow, we had transcended and became lovers wallowing in the warmth of discovery.

A breeze from the open window overlooking the Mediterranean brought in the sweet fragrances of roses climbing up the stone walls of the café. Seeing a small balcony through the French doors, the sun setting over the water and pink clouds glowing in the late afternoon sky, I marveled that I was there, then lifting my head, looked down at Annika, her wild, dark hair splayed over the pillow, then noticed tears in the corner of her brown eyes and a smile on her lips. We didn’t speak. My God, she’s so beautiful I thought, still trying to catch my breath, when she moved her hands to the back of my head, and pulled me to her lips, and we kissed softly, tenderly.

Suddenly, realizing it would be dark soon, and there were no lights on the road leading back to town, I knew this amazing afternoon would have to end. I would have to ride my bicycle back to the shop before it got dark, and go to the dock to catch the boat that would shuttle me and the other sailors to the ship. We would be leaving Rhodes later that evening with the repairs made.

“It’s getting late. I have to go.” I leaned on my elbow and looked at Annika’s radiant olive skin glowing in the fading sunlight.

“I don’t want you to go. Why can’t you stay?”

“Stay!” I was stunned by her question. “I can’t stay. I have to go back to the ship. It’s getting dark.”

“Don’t you want to stay here with me?” She looked up into my eyes, “I want you to stay. Please stay.”

I was confused. How could she expect me to stay on Rhodes with her? What was she thinking and feeling? I was a sailor; she was a whore who was called by Paul to seduce me into buying drinks, but now I was also feeling a deep caring for her and was unsure what to do with those feelings. This is nuts. What should I do?

“Don’t leave me. I want to make you a happy man. I will give myself to you. Please, stay.”

“No, I must get back to the ship. I’m on my way to Paris. I can’t stay here. That would be impossible and crazy.”

“You said I should be a free spirit and be dangerous, why can’t we be crazy and dangerous together?”

Again, stunned by her directness, her pleading, brown eyes urging me to stay and live with her, be her lover and saw her innocence and wildness, her goodness and seductiveness, and remembered her longing for a man to take her from her lonely existence to a place of being wanted and loved. Her words and the idea of staying with this beautiful, sexy, wild, passionate woman excited me.

My taking off on a freighter with no money was an adventure, and though my plans had fallen apart, I was seeing places I had never seen and having experiences I would never have had. And now, I was on Rhodes with Annika offering herself to me, begging me to stay and live dangerously, passionately and become two free spirits tossing caution to the wind in order to feel completely alive.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” The temptation of actually staying was rising in me. Could I live on this island with this beautiful sexy woman? I don’t know what to do. This is nuts.

My mind was swirling with confusion and uncertainty. How could I stay? Everything I had was on the ship--my books, my journal, my clothes. I would be sacrificing the money I had earned when I signed off in Spain--the money I needed to make my way to Paris and be where I planned over three months earlier.

“Yes, I’m serious.”

“How would I live if I stayed here? I have no money, no clothes other than what I am wearing.” I can’t do this! This is crazy?

Just as Annika reached out to pull me into her arms, I rolled over to the other side of the bed, sat up and looked down at her pleading eyes. I started to speak but couldn’t find words, then went out onto the balcony and looked at the setting sun, the pink clouds fading, the last golden rays glowing on the water. Robert Frost’s lines about promises to keep came to my mind and ached in my throat as I whispered them to myself, knowing I had plans and things I needed to do in order to be the writer I wanted to be.

Annika came out to the balcony and, standing behind me, wrapped her arms around my naked body and pressed the warm softness of her breasts against my back, letting me feel the smoothness of her skin and smell the exquisite fragrance of her hair. She lowered her hand and held my deflated cock, caressing it, her lips kissing my shoulder, then whispered, “I won’t let you leave me. You can’t leave me. I want you to stay.”

She turned me around to face her and gently pushed me against the railing of the balcony, then lowered herself to her knees, and with my cock in her hand, started licking it. All thoughts of leaving her left me as she moved her slurping tongue faster, looking up at me with those seductive brown eyes, luring me into all that she was offering. The thought of my living here with this passionate, playful, sensuous woman was becoming more and more tempting, but my mind was swirling. How can I abandon everything--the money I worked so hard to earn, my journal, my dreams of where I’m going?

When her mouth swallowed my cock and she moved her hot mouth up and down, taking me deeper and sliding my cock over her warm, wet tongue to the back of her throat, I was losing it, and knew if I didn’t stop I would explode and shoot my hot cum down her throat, and I'd be lost in the ecstasy she was giving me. I didn’t know which way to turn or what to do.

Suddenly, I grabbed her hair and started fucking her mouth harder, feeling her speeding up, her hands gripping my ass, pulling me into her mouth, giving me the best blow job I had ever had, and I knew I would lose this battle if I exploded in her mouth. I pulled her mouth away from my cock and gripping her hair, looked down at her. “This is crazy. I have to go! I can’t do this!”

“No! No!” she yelled with saliva dripping from her lips and her widening brown eyes looking up at me from the floor.

I tried pushing her aside so I could get my clothes and leave, but she grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to her, trying to stop me. My cock was still hard, and I was struggling to hold back my urge to take her and fuck her on the floor but resisted and tried to reach my clothes thrown next to the bed. She held my waist while I struggled to move for my clothes and leave before it was too late. With her strong arms around my waist, I dragged her across the floor and tried to squirm free, but she held on tighter.

“Don’t go! Don’t go! Stay with me! Don’t leave.”

“Let me go. I can’t stay,” I yelled, trying to pry from her arms as she held on tighter, gripping me, while I dragged her across the floor and tried to reach for my clothes. I couldn’t believe this was happening and felt like I was in a movie watching a man and woman in some exotic place, but realized it was me and Annika experiencing this excruciating scene.

“Stay! Stay!”

Looking down at her desperately holding my thighs, tears in her eyes, sobbing, my heart breaking at seeing her crying, I pulled her hands from me, grabbed my clothes and started putting on my jeans, while she lay sprawled on the floor at my feet, looking at me with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I love you. I love you,” she cried. “I will make you a happy man. Stay with me.”

“I can’t! I have to go back to the ship. It’s getting dark.”

She grabbed at my jeans as I buckled my belt, pulling me to her, but I reached down and swept her hands away. I pulled on my T-shirt and felt tears swelling in my eyes and saw the pain I was causing this beautiful, sexy woman who was promising me every thing a man could want--passion, sex, life on an island away from all of societies’ stress and materialism, the danger and excitement of the unknown, the adventure of living for the moment, lust and freedom and the magnificent blue Mediterranean filling my days. Why couldn’t I write here, what was I giving up, why not abandon the ship, the money, my journals and stay with her and have what she was offering me.

“Please, please, stay with me. I want you to stay. I will make you happy.”

Putting on my shoes as I sat on the bed, I looked down at her on her knees between my legs. She put her arms around my waist, holding me, looking up into my eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I love you. I love you,” she said in a quivering, passionate voice.

I didn’t know what to think or say. How could she love me? She was a whore getting me to spend money, and we got drunk and had wild passionate sex, but I also knew we bonded in a way that is rare, that it was more than fucking, and I could see through her efforts to seduce me, her sweet innocence and her desire to be more than an olive farmer’s daughter. She was an artist and ambitious to break out of the poverty and hard work of the farm, so she came when Paul called her to sell herself for money. She came so she could buy the sexy clothes and jewelry a young woman wants to feel alive, even though it was not enough to take away her yearning for a man who wanted her and loved her.

Standing up, ready to leave, forcing her to release her arms, I pulled out my wallet and threw the money on the bed. She grabbed the money, stood up and threw it back at me, hitting my face. “I don’t want your money, I want you. Stay with me.”

I couldn’t believe she threw the money at me, but I let it drop to the floor, then opened the door and started down the stairs. “The money is yours,” I said, feeling cruel and heartless, treating her like a whore, but still unsure if I was doing the right thing leaving this beautiful woman and the promises she was offering, the temptation to stay and be with her, rising.

Halfway down the stairs, I looked up at her standing naked in the doorway, her wild, dark hair, her brown eyes, her sad, pouting mouth, her breasts, hips, pussy barely covered with hair, her wonderful legs that had wrapped around me, holding me in her. How can I leave? I wondered, but turned, resisting my desire to run up the stairs, take her in my arms and fuck her on the bedroom floor.

She followed me down the stairs, across the patio and to the entrance of the café. I stopped in the middle of the room to look back at her before leaving. She caught me, fell to the floor and wrapped her arms around my legs and cried, “Please, don’t leave me.”

I pulled her arms away and continued through the café to the door and saw Paul at the bar look at me, then at Annika naked and crying on the floor. I took more money from my wallet and slammed it on one of the tables to pay for the wine and went to my bicycle, noticing it was getting darker and hoped I would be able to see my way back into town in time to meet the shuttle back to the ship.

Fortunately, I was at the top of a hill so I was able to pedal and speed down the steep dirt road, wondering what I would do if I missed the shuttle, wondering if Life’s imagination knew more than my mind. Still, I rode into the town, over the cobblestone street, passed the Kit Kat Club, to the bicycle shop, waving at the owner as I leaned the bike against the wall, and ran to the pier where I saw the chief cook and the other sailors boarding the boat, waving at me to hurry.

Climbing aboard, I sat down on one of the benches just as the shuttle pulled away from the dock and heard the motor putter as we went through the harbor, past the two marble bases that once held the huge Colossus of Rhodes, and saw the freighter that I had lived on the last three months, knowing in two days I would sign off in Spain and head to Paris.

I turned and could see in the dim distance, the top of the hill and the Arcadia Café, the empty patio, the steps leading up to the room where Annika and I had spent an afternoon I would never forget. For a second I thought I saw her waving, but it was too dark to be sure. I kept looking, and then knew she was there watching the shuttle taking me closer to the ship that would take me out of her life. Tears swelled in me, my heart wrenched with pangs of loss, my mind wondering if I had made a mistake, and then it was too dark to see.

I continued on my journey, signed off in Alicante, Spain, made my way to Paris where I stayed for awhile, sitting in cafes on the Left Bank before heading to Copenhagen, and then onto the rest of my life. I never forgot Annika, and wonder what would have happened if I had stayed. I wondered about the road not taken, the decisions we make, the twists and turns that sweep us along and become our stories.