The Greek Landlord

My insides burned with the heat form his juice and from the rough pounding he had given me. My cock still ached but it was empty now. It pressed against his wet, hairy stomach, spent and useless as his jerking subsided. His kisses became more gentle, his grunting calmed and our bodies started to relax.

He held me. I kept my eyes closed. He lifted me gently from him and I could feel his juice seeping from my battered hole. He sat me down, pushed me gently back and stretched out my legs. I felt my cock fall soft and wet against my stomach, felt my balls, now emptied, slip back down to hang beneath. He took my ankles, turned me and returned me to my front.

He ran a solid, rough palm across my arse cheeks, gripped one and shook it. Slapped it gently. And then I felt the tickle of his moustache as he kissed me there.

And then he was gone. I felt a weight lift from the bed and heard a quick rustle of clothing, the clatter of a belt buckle and the soft shutting of the bedroom door.

I lay there, drifting in and out of sleep. My arsehole burned and dribbled, my insides were wet, the flesh around my hips was sore and roughened and my cock head throbbed painfully. And the last sensation I remember before I drifted back to sleep was the brush of his moustache against my smooth cheek.

2004 ©