Edge Teetering

"I don't pay for fucking, and I am too old for young men."

"I told you you were very flexible this afternoon. I meant it. It's flexibility and attitude and conditioning, not physical age, that count. And why not pay for it if you want it? Why deny yourself pleasure if you have the money? You are an American—and a rich one. We ran your credit rating before taking your business. You want him inside you, don't you? Marcos has a very nice cock. I have fucked men with him before."

"You've fucked men with him before?"

"Yes. You have been with two men at once before, haven't you?"

"Yes—but when I was younger."

"Pay him. We will fuck you together. You are only as old as you want to be. You have the money, you have the desire, and I've told you that you are attractive enough for him to enjoying fucking you. Why begrudge him the money if he needs it? You have paid me, and I've fucked you repeatedly today. Did you not enjoy it? Do you doubt that I enjoyed it? And, still, I won't turn down my salary from the travel agency to be here with you. Don't be old. Be satisfied."

Brian hesitated, but after a few minutes he rose. Why the hell not, he thought, teetering again on that edge, but what was on the other side of the fence not looking as bleak and threatening and defeating as before. What if he got a look of rejection when he dropped the money in the bucket, though? He'd be crushed. He'd fall off the edge.

He walked over to the tip bucket beside the guitarist and dropped a fifty-euro note in it. He looked up into Marcos' eyes and received a smile and a tip of the head in return. There was no sign of distaste or reluctance.

Marcos lay on his back at the end of the bed, his feet flat on the floor. Brian was straddling the young guitarist's pelvis, facing him, leveraging on his bent knees as he rose and fell on the hard shaft. Dinos had been right. Marcos had a very nice cock. Marcos, his curly black hair fanned out around his head, was holding Brian's waist between his hands and watching the expressions on Brian's face with dreamy eyes. His mouth was set in a sensual smile. Brian was scrutinizing Marcos' face just as closely, looking for any sign of distaste or boredom. He found none. And when he dipped his face down to Marcos' for a kiss, he was met with open, welcoming lips, and a sweet, deep kiss.

There was nothing to be discerned in Marcos' demeanor to indicate that he was getting anything but complete pleasure out of the fuck.

Dinos slid in from the shadows of the corner of the room where he'd been watching Brian riding Marcos' cock. He was as naked as they were. All three of them had beautiful bodies—Dinos' and Brian's bodies were just more solid, more mature, the form of a Zeus to Marcos' Adonis. Dinos moved in close behind Brian. He cupped Brian's chin and turned the American's head to the side, taking his mouth in a kiss. Marcos reached down, cupped Brian's cock, and began to stroke it. One of Dinos' arms went around Brian's chest; his other hand went to his own cock.

Brian began to struggle within Dinos' embrace and to try to break out of the kiss as Dinos worked his cock inside Brian's passage on top of Marcos' already-buried staff. Fully sheathed, Dinos held for a moment and then began to pump Brian's channel. Feeling the rub of Dinos' cock, Marcos began to stroke as well. Dinos let loose of Brian and Brian bent over Marcos, fists buried in the bedspread at either side of Marcos' arms, panting hard to fight off hyperventilation, moaning and groaning in response to the play of two cocks inside him, building up to an explosion—an explosion of cum the likes of Vesuvius.

His mind went back, with pleasure, to a beach and two hunky Turkish men walking toward him.

* * * *

Brian had the entire next day to himself. Neither Dinos nor Marcos were there. It had taken him no time at all to unpack and make the house his. The afternoon was free to set up a canvas in his sunroom and begin to paint. Naturally enough, he painted the terraced vineyard descending from the back of his house. And also naturally enough the scene included a bent-over old Cypriot working in the field. Leonidas.

What Dinos had said about Leonidas and his attributes kept running through Brian's mind. There had been so much to absorb over the past two days, though. Too much, really. All of his pouts and life-ending decisions had been exploded in his face. Well, most of them. Dinos was younger than he was. Not by much, but younger. He still was settled on having younger men or nothing. Dinos getting him over the hurdle of paying for it had opened the sunshine over his life, though. That wouldn't be bad—as long as young men didn't laugh at him even when he offered them money for sex. He'd spent time in front of the mirror again this morning. It would be years, he figured, before he was the gargoyle that Leonidas, out working in the vineyard, was. There was no reason why he should ever be as work-worn as Leonidas was.

That night he went back to the taverna for a late supper—late for him, quite obviously not late for the Cypriots, who were just starting to show up when he was finishing. Marcos wasn't there. He wasn't playing that night. Brian was almost relieved. He'd been drawn to Marcos, like a moth to the flame, but he knew he couldn't have him every night. It was just the residual panic that he was running out of time—that he wouldn't be desirable to a young man for long even if he paid for it. He fantasized about the young man not being able to get it up for him—him not being able to make a young man hard. And then he kept telling himself that he wasn't teetering on that edge anymore, that that edge was still a distance away and that he should stop agonizing over it.

He went home, took a long shower, and climbed, naked, into his bed. It was almost a relief to have the bed all to himself.

He had no idea what time it was when he woke. He just knew it was pitch dark and someone was grasping his ankles and pulling him down toward the foot of the bed. He opened his mouth to call down.

"Don't cry out. I will fuck you good." The voice was heavily accented, but he'd heard it before. Leonidas.

He was turned on the bed, urged up to his hands and knees, seized from behind, and then he did cry out and squirm, briefly trying to pull away, but the man was much too strong for him. Leonidas was working his cock inside Brian's passage. The cock was as thick if not thicker than Dino's and Marcos' together. It was all Brian could do to concentrate on opening for the man, stretching, and taking him in. Brian was panting hard and groaning. Leonidas was grunting at getting it all inside Brian, He reached around and grasped Brian's balls and the root of his cock in a strong, heavily calloused hand. He squeezed, making Brian's eyes water and his mouth jabber, begging for mercy. None was to come, and Brian was turned to sobbing jelly as Leonidas began to pump him.

And to pump him and pump him. Each time Brian was ready to blow, Leonidas sensed this and stopped, dead, holding Brian close, not permitting him to move a muscle, holding them both in suspension, teetering on the edge of coming, until the need for release had passed. Then he resumed a steady pumping and the rolling and squeezing of Brian's balls, as well as the squeezing of the base of his cock.

Panting, panting, panting, groaning and moaning, whining for release, begging for mercy, for completion, Brian felt himself ready to ejaculate again. But again, the masterful, experienced cocksman held him in abeyance, whispering that he didn't have permission to come yet. Then, when the need had passed, Brian's balls aching, the pumping resumed. He was taken to the edge and held off, taken to the edge and held off, until he was exhausted, putty in Leonidas' hands, completely conquered.

He let out a whimper and a sigh and was permitted to collapse on the bed, completely taken, totally spent, when Leonidas allowed him to come, and, a master at the fuck, came himself simultaneously.

Brian's murmur of "I . . . have . . . never . . . been taken so fully before" got choked off by the realization that Leonidas had come, but he was still hard.

"Oh fuck, oh shit," Brian murmured, as the old man clamped his arm around Brian's waist, pulling him back up on all fours, and began to pump him again.

All of Brian's "never again will" declarations were dispelled. He no longer was teetering on the edge of anything. He was soaring out over the edge into a new life.

And he didn't give a shit.