Edge Teetering

He had to remember that his original idea on coming to Cyprus was to go cold turkey and give in to old age without his friends and colleagues in New York seeing that happen—and either pitying him or laughing at him behind his back. He didn't like to think about it, but he'd been catty a time or two when a male model colleague had aged and faded out. That was coming back to bite him in the ass.

* * * *

"Are you Mr. Brady? I'm Constandinos. But you should call me just Dinos."

Brian had seen him when he'd descended the stairs to the lobby. This wasn't the sort of hotel that had an elevator. The man had drawn his attention because for a few seconds he thought he was the older man from the beach the previous day—the one who had hit on him, promising him the best fuck to be had in the town. Then this guy had taken his hat off and he still had hair. There was a flutter of regret at not having taken the man on the beach up on his offer but then the dampening closedown again that the man was too old for what Brian wanted—for the struggle he was having with himself of being on the edge of entering a new, sexless phase of his life. He was on the edge of avoiding being old and having to beg or pay for it, or settle in to getting half the satisfaction with other men trying to fight being too old for it.

The disappointment flooded in that the gay escort he was paying for to settle him into his remote mountain village home wasn't young. He was just another old fart, like Brian. He wasn't going to keep Brian from teetering over the edge into old age, if only for a brief moment. That was unfair, of course. This Constandinos didn't look to be quite as old as Brian and he was a solidly built, muscular, beautiful man, with an outgoing smile. But he also had graying sideburns and his wavy hair was salt and pepper. At least he had hair.

"Yes. You were sent to take me to my new house in Phini? If I'm to call you Dinos, you should call me Brian."

"Yes I am your guide and here to service your every need," Dinos said. "I'm told you've used our travel agency before and know of the extent of our services," he continued, leaving little doubt on how extensive the contract of services was. He held out an elegantly manicured hand, gently grasped Brian's arm, and turned him toward the reception desk. "If you'll check out, I'll drive you up to Phini. Your house is livable and stocked. It will take a bit more than an hour. The container you had shipped is there now. Have you had lunch? We could stop at a café I know of overlooking the sea near Limassol before starting up into the mountains."

Dinos was driving an old Mercedes sports convertible that was in pristine condition. He drove fast, wearing leather driving gloves, but he concentrated on the road and drove expertly.

Drove expertly, Brian thought, wondering how well he drove in sex. He couldn't help not thinking of the sexual issue even though he was fighting the age issue. Brian couldn't help it, he was highly sexed. Of course this flew in the face of feeling old and being forced to give it all up, teetering on the edge of old age, but being conflicted was just that. He couldn't do anything about it. Dinos dressed expensively and elegantly. His white shirt and linen trousers were well tailored and fit him like a glove. Either the trousers were tailored to push his genitals up and forward or he was hung. Brian couldn't help himself from checking that out, even if he had no intention of going there. Despite knowing he didn't want to be, Brian was drawn to and aroused by the man.

It didn't help that on the terrace of the café overlooking the sea, Dinos did as other Mediterranean men did at the end of the meal, over ouzo and coffee—stripped off his shirt and laid back in his chair, taking in the sun beating down on the edge of the azure sea. He left little doubt that he'd done it to give Brian a good look at his musculature, which was impressive. As was the man on the beach of comparable age, Dinos' chest hair, swirling around his pectorals and down his sternum onto his nearly flat belly, was salt and pepper. His chest was beefy, but hard and muscular. Brian neither took off his shirt nor gawked at Dinos—he gawked much more at young, shirtless men sitting near them. And if he went hard over lunch, it was in thinking of these young men and fantasizing laying under them.

Or at least that was what he still was telling himself. Though of course he checked out Dinos' bare torso.

The man's voice was low, smooth, enhanced by the British accent when he spoke English. "Have you bought the house for holidays—for an escape? You look like a movie star. Are you hiding from fans?"

"I suppose you could say I'm retreating, but permanently," Brian answered. "I plan to live here, and if I'm escaping anything, it's life. I'm a painter."

It wasn't a lie. Brian did paint, and he sold what he painted. He intended it to be his new life. He didn't intend being told ever again that he was too old for a modeling job—especially one that had specified that the model be mature. He was beginning a new life here, an autumn of his life phase. Or was it winter? This life would be as a painter. He had saved and invested well. He didn't have to be anything, if he didn't want to be. But he didn't want to just wait around for death. He'd be a painter in this phase of his life.

"Ah, a painter. The travel service said you were a male model, and I'm sure I have seen you in magazine ads."

"I was that in the States as well as an artist. Leaving that is one reason I am moving here."

"And escaping from life? You look too much alive to be escaping from life. A bad love relationship, perhaps?"

"Yes, that's part of it. He wanted someone younger."

"Ah, younger. Youth is wasted on the young. I've found that expertise requires maturity. Don't you believe that to really be expert in something you need to have a great deal of experience, Brian?"

"I suppose," Brian answered, his voice dubious, his attention half on a couple of young, luscious men rising from their lunch and departing the café.

"Ah, sexy young men, aren't they?" Dinos asked, following Brian's gaze. "They no doubt are on their way to fuck. We have siesta in Cyprus, just like most Mediterranean countries do—withdrawing from the sun to sleep the hotter hours so that we can party late into the night. But Cyprus is a sensual island. Most elsewhere in the Mediterranean sleep during siesta. In Cyprus we fuck. But look at those two young men. Do you think they will fuck as well as a mature, experienced man could fuck them? I think not. In Cyprus men age on the surface, but as long as they fuck often they can stay hard into old age. And they can give a young man a better, more experienced, fuck then a younger man can. So, I say that youth is wasted on the young, and the pursuit of youth is a waste also. What is needed is an older man, with a hard cock and good technique."

He looked expectantly at Brian, who only was able to mumble a, "Yes, I suppose," followed by an "Ah, here is the bill." Dinos didn't fight him for the check.

While they were waiting for the change to come back and after Dinos had pulled his shirt back on, he leaned over and touched Brian on his arm. "I don't think you answered me, so I have to ask again: You are aware of the extent of the service in your contract with my travel agency, are you not?"

"Yes," Brian answered, "but I need not press you on those services."

"I want you to," Dinos said. "It has nothing to do with the services contracted. I find you very attractive." Then he looked up and smiled at the waiter who brought back the change. "Hello, Antony. You are looking very well."

"Thank you, Dinos," the waiter answered. "It is good to see you again."

"Tell our friend here, if you will, how good I fuck."

"Dinos fucks very, very good," Antony said to Brian, with hardly a pause at the forwardness of the question, giving him a smile. "You are very lucky if he is going to fuck you." And then he turned and was gone.

The road up into the mountains narrowed and became more rutted, but Dinos drove just as fast and just as well as he had on flatter ground. They just didn't converse much. They were still rising, driving on curves, though, when Dinos commanded in a gruff voice, "Unzip me. Stroke my cock."

The domination mode grabbed Brian, who melted at being commanded this way. Without thinking further or going through his agonizing litany of either of them being too old, he reached over, unzipped Dinos, and took out the Cypriot's half-hard cock. Brian himself had been hard ever since Dinos' monologue on the relative experience of older men at the seaside café.

At the house, without so much as a look either way, Brian not taking in either his rental car, a Fiat 500, or the small walk-in steel container at the other side of the entrance or how close the stone facing of the village house was to the road, barely leaving room between the stone and the road for the vehicles to park, Dinos hustled Brian straight through the house and out onto a stone-floored terrace balcony. He was stripping Brian as they walked, himself losing only his shirt, but with his dick protruding from his fly, long, thick, hard, and slightly upturned. He hadn't let Brian stop stroking him as they approached the villa. He was thick and long, but there was no evidence he was close to coming.

On the terrace, he sat in a patio chair and pulled Brian onto his lap, facing him. Holding his cock erect with one hand, he maneuvered Brian in place, straddling his lap, feet on the stone floor on either side of the chair, worked the bulb of his cock into place, and then, grasping, squeezing, and parting Brian's butt cheeks, he forced Brian's channel down. Forcing it to take four inches of the cock in one go. Brian grabbed Dinos' shoulders with his hands, arched his back, and cried out at the raw penetration of the cock.

"Keep your feet on the stones, hold yourself up, give me room to fuck," Dinos growled, and as Brian obeyed, Dinos gave him three more inches of the cock and started his hips moving, jabbing up into Brian's channel, as Brian tightened his grip on Dinos' shoulders. After a few minutes, Brian started to rise and fall too, taking his share of responsibility for the fuck, joining the rhythm of Dinos' fuck. He pulled one hand down into his lap and stroked his cock, coming before Dinos did inside him.

Brian collapsed into Dinos' lap, threw his arms around Dinos' neck, and the two went into a series of deep kisses until Dinos' cock came back to life and they fucked once more, this time more languidly, taking longer and deeper penetrations of the cock up into Brian's channel. When they'd come a second time and were cooling down, not changing position, Dinos' shaft still buried up inside Brian, going flaccid, Dinos whispered, "Do older men do it better than younger?"

"Yes," Brian answered in a murmur, "at least you do."

"I think all older men with experience and who can still get hard can, Brian. And they will be more grateful to you than a younger man would be. Don't judge a man by his age, his wrinkles, or that he is losing the battle to keep in shape. Judge him by the hardness and staying power of his cock and what he can do with it. Now, do you want to see your new house?"

"Yes," Brian whispered, "especially the bedroom."

As he pulled off Dinos' lap and turned, he saw that the back of the house sloped down the side of the mountain. The land—his plot of land—was terraced and covered with grape vines tied to wooden fences. An old man, squat and gnarled, was standing two terraces down, looking up. He had been watching them fuck.

* * * *

The layout of the house was straightforward. It had been restored on the inside with clean, modern lines, while the quaint village aged-stone style of it had been preserved on the outside. The entire mountain village was like this. Dinos said it was in the covenant of the place when the government had permitted foreigners to restore houses here for their use.

"I'm afraid it looks a bit like one of your pristine theme parks to a Cypriot. But you may view it anyway you like. You have to have money to live here. If it's young men you want, they will be attracted by knowing you live here."

If this was supposed to make Brian feel wanted by young men, it didn't. He wasn't really interested in being some young man's sugar daddy—not again. He'd done that and was done with that—if he could maintain his resolve. He had pulled on his trousers—but not his briefs—for the tour of the house. They both moved around shirtless and barefooted. Both of them knew that Dinos would fuck Brian again before he departed.

Where they had entered was essentially an open front porch notched out of the middle of the front of the two-room deep house. To the left upon entering the great room was a kitchen, separated from the great room by a counter. To the right was the master bedroom suite, with a full bath next to the entry porch and the master bedroom projecting out to the back of the house. The bathroom facilities were as modern as anything Brian had seen in the States. If anything, they were more stylish, in keeping with European tastes. The shower stall door, of course, was clear glass and the back wall of the stall also was glass, looking out onto a small rock-walled garden niche set in the side of the house.

"The bath is perfect for fucking, don't you think?" Dinos asked, giving Brian a sexy smile.

"Yes," Brian answered, more than half wanting Dinos to fuck him under cascading water from the shower head there and then—to press Brian's back against the rock wall at the foot of the shower and growl for Brian to climb his hips with his knees. They were both hard again, and Dinos was guiding Brian around with a grip on his buttocks.

But Dinos escorted Brian out of the master bedroom and back into the great room. To the left of the great room were two rooms, a bedroom and bath on the street side and an enclosed porch, with windows wrapping around two sides on the back side of the house. The deep balcony terrace, looking down the terraced mountainside and to the next mountain, ran the entire length of the back. The house had come fully furnished, just awaiting Brian's personal touches. Soon a walker and then a wheel chair, he thought bitterly, feeling a bit sorry for himself. How much longer, he wondered, could he stay as hard as he was for Dinos now—as hard as Dinos was staying for him?

"This will be perfect for my painting studio," Brian said, when he was shown the sun porch.

"Ah, yes, your painting," Dinos said. "Are you going to show me your paintings?"

"They should be in the container out front. When I've had them out, you certainly can see them."

"I'll help you unload the container then, shall I?"

"Surely that's not included in the service I've paid for," Brian said, with a little laugh.

"I am curious enough about your paintings that I'll be happy to do it. But, speaking of the service, I would like to show you the master bedroom again."

"You are very flexible. I do not think you should talk about being old again," Dinos whispered in Brian's ear as he fucked him from behind against the wall of the bedroom beside the doorway into the great room. Both Brian's feet and hands were pressed to the wall, his trousers on the floor under him, his buttocks projecting out from the wall, as Dinos stood behind him, one arm around his waist and the other running up his chest, his hand cupping Brian's chin, as he fucked up into Brian's channel.

Brian sensed movement at the door and looked around to see that the old man he'd previously seen in the vineyard was standing there, looking at them. He was several inches shorter than either Brian or Dinos, even if he weren't hunched over a bit, and was stocky. He was ugly as a gargoyle. He looked to be at least sixty. He stood there only for a couple of seconds and then withdrew.

"Who the fuck?" Brian exclaimed.

"That's Leonidas. You'll be calling him Leo."

"Why the fuck would I be calling him anything?" Brian said, breathless from the exertion of bearing back as Dinos thrust forward and up in the fuck.

"He works for you. He takes care of your vineyard. You won't have to do anything but drink the wine. He works the other vineyards on this hill too. And, in turn, he lives in your basement."

"My basement?"

"Yes, underneath us, opening to the hillside under the terrace. In old times it was where they sheltered their livestock. There's a flat down there now, and a wine cellar."

"I didn't see stairs."

"There are none inside the house. You have to go down and around."

"It didn't keep him out of the house."

"No, it didn't. He's here to help unload the container and set up whatever you brought with you. He'll have the run of the house. Incidentally, he has the thickest cock in the village, and he can keep it hard for hours."

"But he looks as old as the hills," Brian muttered.

"He has the thickest cock in the village and can keep it hard for hours," Dinos repeated. "Remember what I told you earlier. You need to give what I said about age and experience more thought."

There was no thinking then, just animal rutting as Dinos finished the fuck and let Brian slip to the floor in a puddle of satiation.

"Shall we do it in the shower now?" Dinos asked in a matter-of-fact voice. It was too soon for Dinos to be hard again, but, in the shower and whispering, "Experience is the master," in Brian's ear, he demonstrated how he could bring Brian to and past release again with his hand.

When the two finally emerged from the house, Leonidas was standing outside, beside the container, and helped unload it without a single word said on what he saw or a judgmental look or leer being directed by him at Brian.

"These paintings are magnificent," Dinos said as they were being moved to the sun porch. "Do you have a dealer set up here in Cyprus to handle them?"

"No, not yet," Brian answered, please that the Cypriot had praised his work.

"Our offices are down in Limassol. There are galleries there—good ones. We can help you get displayed there."

"As part of the travel agency services?" Brian asked. "Isn't that stretching the agency's services a bit far?"

"I like to see how far I can stretch . . . services," Dinos answered, giving Brian a meaningful look and causing Brian to blush despite his age and look to where Leonidas was to see if he heard and understood. He was close enough to have heard, but he gave no discernible reaction. "And my services continue as long as I am getting pleasure out of them," Dinos added. "My whole life isn't spent on the travel agency's clock. This is Cyprus. Personal pleasure has priority."

* * * *

"You want him. You want to fuck him, don't you?"

"I do fantasize him fucking me," Brian answered, turning his attention from the beautiful young guitarist back to Dinos. They were on the patio of a taverna in Phini, strung with fairy lights that kept traveling up into the deep blue night sky, the air crisp and clear in the mountains. The guitarist, setting in the corner of the patio on a barstool, a light shining on his tumbling black curls from above, was much the same as the guitarist from the previous night, the one who had looked past Brian with a smile for another man. This guitarist had a smile for everyone on the patio, though, including Brian. He was smarter than the guitarist from the night before. He understood what produced tips. "But that's not going to happen."

"What isn't that going to happen?" Dinos asked.

"I'm old; he's young. He has a young lover—male or female, I don't know—or an established sugar daddy. But he looks too content not to have a lover."

"He's a whore," Dinos says. "He makes more money from fucking—yes, either man or woman—than he does from playing his guitar here. You aren't too old for him—you could only be too poor for him, which you aren't. You are still a handsome man with a great body. He would fuck you and enjoy it. All you have to do is to slip a fifty euro note in his tip bucket and smile at him. Then wait until his evening is finished. He will follow you home and fuck you. And he will be pleased to do you. He would do that three or four times a week for as long as you wanted, just as long as you had money to give him. That would answer your concern, wouldn't it? You can afford him."