Switching Sides Ch. 03

"The English speakers gather every Tuesday night at a restaurant near your hotel, Clifford," Teke said. "The woman who owns it, Sheila Cantrell, is English. You must join the group."

"Yes, you must," Emilee agreed, putting her small hand on my forearm, squeezing it, and giving me a doe-eyed look.

Talal obviously saw the "fuck me" look, but showed no concern. "So, you're the mystery man who is refurbishing the big house on Bozkurt Suk for a boutique hotel," he said. "We'll be near neighbors then. We'll have to become better acquainted." He then was giving me a meaningful look, and I went hard. I'd seen both of them naked. I'd wanted both of them then. I wanted both of them now. Could it be I wasn't interested in switching all the way? That I was bisexual?

The two of them left and the conversation returned to the properties Teke had acquired and had begun renovating for me.

"I know you ran such a hotel in the States," he said. "And Peter tells me that a men-friendly hotel was being run beside yours and that you were interested in that."

"It was quite a busy operation," I answered.

"You could have such a busy operation with your hotel too," he said, "if you wish. We have not enough high-quality arrangements for men coming here with men and to be with men. There is a need for that here. If you wished to run such a hotel, I could help you stay in good stead with the law. I could also help steer business to you. You could give the hotel a Greek name. That's a joke among the Turks who are part of the man-love scene. Name something Greek and you are evoking Greek love—sex between two men. If you pointed to a man and said he was Greek, everyone will know that you were saying he went with men."

"It's something to consider," I said, not having considered it before. But it aroused me thinking about it. It would put me deeper in business with Teke, though, and I was finding him intimidating. At the moment I was finding him quite intimidating, as he had a beefy hand on my thigh and was squeezing.

"I think we should go to the bathhouse now," he said in a hoarse voice. "You have me hard. Go on up to the hotel now, Envir. We will be along shortly." Then he turned to me and said, "I am giving you Envir. You may fuck him if you wish. But I have set him up in the attic of your hotel and he will be your servant as long as you wish the arrangement. He won't cost you much. And don't have any apprehensions. He looks very young, but he is of age."

I was lost on the "you have me hard" comment until Teke said what I could do with Envir.

"The age of consent here?" I asked.

"The same as where you came from—at least formally," he said. And then he laughed. "If we can bring Islamic law to Turkey, it will be twelve years old. We may progress to that in the not-too-distant future. And if you wish a lad of fifteen, as long as there is no formal complaint . . ." He left that hanging there.

That needn't happen for me, I thought. But I said nothing.

We bathed at the bathhouse in a large pool where other men were reposing or moving about languidly in the water. A few of the men were engaged sexually with others, so I surmised that this was an "everything goes" bathhouse. Teke and I sat next to each other, and he checked me out under the water with a hand, but more like a doctor would than a lover.

We were massaged side by side after the pool, and I admit that I came to the masseur's intimate touch, but I was the only one of the four of us there who was embarrassed by that. The others treated it like it was natural, especially for someone uninitiated to this form of pastime as I was. The masseur acted like it was expected and he would be insulted if I could not get it off at the stroke of his hands. Lying there, I watched Teke's masseur bring his massive cock to ejaculation as well. Teke watched me watch that.

The other three complimented me on my physique and conditioning, which helped me go hard and, eventually, to shoot off under the strokes of the young, muscular masseur. The two masseurs were built like Apollos. Teke was built like a whale, but was as muscular as the other two, and hung like a bull, and he carried himself like his was the most beautiful body there.

"The masseurs will go to the pool with us and you can use yours as you will. He says he would enjoy having you fuck him," Teke said.

This was too much too fast for me, though, and I said so. I was already building up nervousness over Teke's declaration that he would collect his initiation fee for services from me before we left the bathhouse.

Teke did take his masseur into the pool, though, and I sat beside him, hard and stroking myself, as Teke sat on the bench rimming the inside of the pool and pulled the masseur on and off his cock, as the young man sat in his lap, facing away from him.

Not long after that, it was my turn.

Teke was sporting. He said we could wrestle for domination, but of course it was no contest. We wrestled on a mat in a stone-walled room, with arched recesses and erotic frescoes on the walls of men wrestling and fucking. We wrestled naked, and Teke got on top of me and took the wind out of my sails with his weight and the power of his grips.

"Go up on your knees and spread your legs and it will be less painful," he whispered in my ear.

As he covered me from above and behind and was working his cock inside my ass, I wondered how it possibly could be more painful. But eventually I opened totally to him and I went with his thrusts with counterthrusts of my own, concentrating on enjoying the fuck to the extent I could. I reached back and pulled my buttocks open, and I widened my stance and concentrated on being open for him, When I relaxed my body, didn't struggle, and let him have his way with me, I managed better. Still, this was enough to convince me that I much preferred to be the top.

Lying there, exhausted, on my back on the mat after he'd shot his load, I panted as he propped his head up with a bent elbow and looked down into my face. He was slow stroking my cock with his hand, and I knew he'd take me to climax.

"It's a pity that you are more a top than bottom," he said. "I sense that you are. You are very much like Peter was. You are more desirable than Peter was—for your age—you remind me quite a bit of an American movie star of some years back. But I can tell you prefer to be on top. You are older than I really like. I would have like to have met you twenty years ago. You know now what I can demand for easing your way through the systems here. This may be the last time, but maybe not. Until then, you may do as you will with Envir, and you undoubtedly will find your own men. Or they will find you. You will be a favorite for Turkish men who like to be topped. I must tell you that most Turkish men want to dominate."

I came for him and then he showed that that hadn't been the last time he would use me, as he rolled over on top of me, thankfully taking most of his weight on his knees pressed between my thighs. He palmed the small of my back with a beefy hand; commanded me to wrap my legs around his waist, pressing my heels into the flesh at the top of his buttocks, which I did; took the weight of his torso on his elbow pressed into the mat next to my chest; thrust inside me; and fucked the stuffing out of me—just as Peter had said he would do. This time I already was reamed open to his size, relaxed immediately, moved my pelvis with his, and was able to get more enjoyment out of the fuck.

"Maybe this won't be the last time," he muttered, as we were cooling down from the second coupling.

After another session in the pool and being dried off and dressed by a couple of young Turks, we walked up to my new house, a stone mansion, set sideways to the street, of three stories, an out-of-ground basement, and an attic. I had been told that it was nearly 10,000 square feet of space, but I had had no idea what that looked like in real life. It was nearly twice as big as the B&B I was leaving in Cape May.

The lot was a big one, a double city lot, 60 feet wide and going to a depth of 150 feet. The house, 30 feet wide by 75 feet long, sat on the front, southern side of the lot. running along the northern wall to a parking lot at the back of the lot was a driveway. Between the house and the drive were a walled entry courtyard, with fountain, and a pool house, open to the back of the yard, where the hole being dug for a swimming pool surrounded by stone terraces lay between the house and the walled-off parking area.

The lowest of the three main floors had an entry hall on the front north side and a parlor running back from the front southern side. A balcony on the north side overlooked the courtyard half a story up. To the rear of that was an office area on the north, with a staircase on the south. A large dining room spanned the width of the back of the house. A balcony beyond that overlooked the pool, and there was a staircase alcove to the south side of the balcony that went down to the kitchen and storerooms under the dining room. The second and third stories were identical to each other, with three en suite bedrooms wrapping around from the front back toward the back, with a larger suite, with sitting room and bath, over the dining room. This made for eight guest rooms, each with a modernized bath, which was a luxury for Turkey. Until my village house in Bayraklidede was finished, though, I would occupy the third-floor, rear suite. The attic had an open terrace over the rear suite and, forward, a small flat and two servants' rooms, sharing a bath. The front of the basement area would be my photography studio and dark room.

Only the suite I was to occupy for a while had been completely renovated and the swimming pool wasn't more than a hole in the ground, but as I followed Cemil, I could easily see how everything would work eventually, and I could tell that he had put a lot of effort into getting the renovations started. I wouldn't begrudge him his domination over me in the process nor fight him if he wanted more from me. I could see that I would need him for some time to come.

Envir prepared an evening meal and served it in the dining room, which was somewhat bedraggled but gave considerable promise of rising again. As I saw Cemil to the door, he reiterated that Envir was mine for the using. He made quite clear he had trained the young man to please another man sexually. Envir, in turn, would live in the attic in one of the servants' rooms and serve whatever needs I had for him at the hotel.

"And there is the English-speaking group," Cemil said. "It will be to your advantage to attend that and fit in with the expatriate community here. Remember, Sheila's Restaurant, just up the street, on Tuesday nights."

"I'll remember. Will you be there?"

"Of course. I can always improve my English." I nearly laughed. His English was better than mine—and more English. "And, about earlier. You are a desirable bottom, if you wish to go that way. You are too old for me, but there are several old, well-established men here, who would enjoy you, pay you well, and extend influence over you. I will help you find men you'd be pleased to fuck—some of them would pay an American like you well too and be of political advantage to you. Just tell me what you want. Incidentally, in case you are squeamish about that, let me reassure you that Envir may look younger than eighteen, but he's passed that birthday. I probably wouldn't be giving him to you otherwise; I'd keep him for myself."

"For now, I just want to get my hotel and houses finished," I said, but I added my thanks for his other consideration. I knew it was politic to remain in his good stead. That led me to add to what I said. "Are there men, in either category, that you would want me to be with for either my or your advantage?"

"Perhaps," he answered, with a smile. "Just perhaps. And do think of specializing with this hotel."

"I will," I answered, already having decided to take up his suggestion.

As he was leaving, he pulled an official-looking document out of his briefcase and handed it to me. I assumed it was some sort of deed, but, as he showed by picking words out here and there and then a date, I discovered it wasn't.

I descended to the kitchen to wish Envir goodnight, and he gave me a look that indicated I would take him upstairs with me. But I didn't. I struggled with myself, but I didn't know what to trust, what to believe, and what I wanted. Cemil had sexed me up that day, though, and I was in a state. It did make a difference to me, though, that he was of age.

I locked the door to my suite, having resolved one thing, but I kept taking the document out and looking at it. When I heard Envir at the door, trying, unsuccessfully to open it, I put a pillow over my head and tried to ignore him at the door, knocking and calling out to me. When he was gone, I lay there, on my back, masturbating and trying, unsuccessfully, not to think of the birth certificate Cemil had handed me claiming that Envir, in fact, was of age or to think of the photograph of Envir, naked, Cemil had provided along with the question of wouldn't I like to use him as a model for my photographs?

Of course I would.

The door to his attic room was open and I could hear his heavy breathing and see that he was lying on his bed, naked, as I stood in the doorway, also naked. He was kneeling on the floor by the bed when I reached him and stood in front of him, gripping his hands in mine, as he made expert love to my cock.

I lay stretched out on top of him, him on his belly, his hands gripping the rungs of the brass headboard over his head, and one of my hands buried in the black curls at the back of his head and pulling his head up and back to me as I slid my cock inside his passage from above and fucked him and fucked him and fucked him.

* * * *

I woke up with Emilee crawling over me and stumbling out of bed.

"Sorry, it's late. I've got to get the shop opened. Have fun," I heard her say as if from a distance, through a wave of pain—my head, not my ass, so I assured myself that I wasn't the one who'd been fucked. I hadn't gotten drunk like I had the previous night during the English-speakers' gathering since my fraternity days at the University of Maryland. I registered in my pounding brain that from now on I'd forgo the 6.1 percent ABV Marmara Kirmizi beer and stick with the Efes Light. It had been Talal who had told me to try the Marmara Kirmizi. And it had been the sultry redhead Sheila Cantrell who had grinned, winked at me—she'd been signaling to me all evening—and asked me if I was sure when she plunked the second strong beer in front of me. And it had been Emilee who told me to chug it and then we'd walk home together.

I guess that meant I hadn't fucked Sheila the previous night—or her boyfriend, Alton. That had been my goal after I'd gotten half drunk. It seemed to have been their plan too—for me to stay around after the rest had left and the three of us having a go at it. Well, apparently it hadn't wound up being that three.

I hadn't realized that Emilee meant we'd walk to her flat above her souvenir shop, which was two blocks past my hotel-in-waiting, where Envir had assured me he'd been waiting from me in his garret room, on his back on his bed, naked and legs spread. I'd been in Kusadasi one day shy of a week and I'd spent every night on top of Envir doing pushups and the days wandering around in my developing hotel in a fog trying to stay out of the way of workmen, most, because of Cemil Teke's planning, being hunky young Turks sniffing around the rich, movie-star-handsome American Teke had suggested might become their sugar daddy if they played their cards right.

I'd gone to the Tuesday evening English-speaking gathering at Sheila's Restaurant as much to cool down and give my cock hard-on relief as anything, only to find Emilee and Talal there on the make for me and Sheila and her Turkish boy toy Alton Demir, as well. Cemil was there, sitting off to the side, smiling, and no doubt amused by my total emersion in the sexual innuendo.

I'd found Envir a delight to fuck. He seemed so young and looked so innocent, but he was so expert. He knew how to work me and drain me totally in ways that almost scared me. Cemil had thrown him at me. There was little doubt that Cemil had spent considerable time training Envir before the young man had reached his majority. Cemil was throwing workers on the hotel at me too, and it wasn't clear that they all were of age. What was clear when Cemil was around was that he'd had them all.

Cemil had let me know that he would dominate me as he pleased. Who was running this adventure? Cemil or me? To what purpose? Was I paying for this hotel only for Cemil to ensnare me and, in the end, pull the rug out from underneath me—maybe see me put up on charges of one kind or another and taking my property for himself? Peter had told me that I had to watch the Turkish lawyer like a hawk. He'd told me that while, at the same time, telling me I had to trust someone in the corrupt system that was Turkish business and that it was Cemil Teke I'd need to trust.

But then, Peter had admitted that Cemil had dominated him too. And Cemil had said that he matched Peter to Ergon Seljek—who I'd recognized had Peter wrapped around his little finger and panting after him in bed. I doubted that Peter made any decision in faraway New Jersey that Ergon didn't agree with.

When I'd stumbled out of Sheila's Restaurant with Emilee and Talal, I'd known that I was going with them, not returning to the hotel and Envir's bed, and I'd told myself that it was a declaration of independence from the web Cemil was weaving around me. But he'd been sitting there and smiling while Emilee and Talal had been getting me drunk. So, was this according to Cemil's plans as well?

I reached out for Emilee as she rolled off the side of the bed, but I missed. I might have pulled myself off the bed and followed her, but Talal was awake now too and rolled over between my thighs, wrapping his arms around my thighs and taking my cock in his mouth. Most of the time we'd been working on Emilee in consort during the night, I had really wanted to be fucking Talal. The closest we'd come to intimacy beyond kissing and fondling each other was when I was on my back, my cock up Emilee's slit, as she rode my pelvis and Talal behind her, fucking her in the ass. It was my first time sharing a woman with another man. I was learning so much in such a short time in my journey to switching sides.

I'd felt him inside her ass while I was in her vagina, the membrane between her passages undulating at the coordinate stroking of our cocks inside her. I wanted to be inside Talal so much, though. And maybe I had been. But I could only pull in snatches of the three of us moving together.

I lay back on the bed, gripping the curly black hair of his head between my hands and reveling in the blow job. Turkish men—or at least the two I'd experienced so far—gave great head. I moved my pelvis and he readjusted to give me room to stroke up into his throat.

He didn't make me wait long, though. I had a huge, throbbing erection when he rose up over my body and lowered his ass onto the cock. I groaned deeply and grasped his waist as we moved together in the fuck, him saddled on my pelvis as Emilee had been last night, but this fuck, this fuck of a handsome young man, being so much more arousing than with any woman.

He rode me and rode me and rode me to a mutual explosion.

Only one week into my new life and I'd already exploded into hedonism. But was this free will or someone's sticky spider web?