Twice with the Minotaur

The fucking on the blanket had taken longer, been more intense, and had lifted the two higher than the first time Stephanos had taken Dorian in his bedroom after the Halloween party. Stephanos was relatively young, beautiful, muscular, hung, virile, and vigorous. Dorian couldn't have wanted more from a man.

"So, you're asking if I think the third time with you can be better than what you just did with me?" Dorian asked. "I don't see how it could be."

"If you had it from a man like the two times I'd covered you, would you be content with dying after that?" Stephanos asked.

"All of these questions and the serious look," Dorian said. "I prefer the first question, because it speaks of a third time."

"So, you want a third time?"

"Of course I do," Dorian answered.

"And you would take it if I was bigger than I was the first two times?"

"Yes, but I don't see how . . . ahh." Then he saw. Stephanos was showing him his fist.

"Does the prospect scare you?" Stephanos asked.

"Yes, a little."

"But you'll stay with me here on this blanket?"

"Yes, I'll stay."

Stephanos, who had been sitting beside Dorian, who was stretched out on his back on the blanket, was smoking a cigarette and playing with two big balls of twine he'd taken out of the hamper, picking the two ends of the string out from each of the ball, tossed his cigarette over the lip of the cliff ledge and down to the sea. He rolled over on top of Dorian, embracing the young man close and pinning him to the ground, one leg over one of Dorian's legs and an arm encasing Dorian's back, the hand cupping the young man's chin and arching his head back. Stephanos's other hand, which he dipped in a tub of butter first, went under Dorian's balls.

Dorian groaned and then whimpered and then begged and finally cried out as Stephanos worked buttered fingers into the young American's asshole, progressively adding fingers and, finally, the rest of the hand, past the knuckles, as Dorian writhed ineffectually in the strong Greek's grasp. Dorian cried out as the knuckles breached his sphincter and Stephanos was in to the wrist, but the young man, panting, held steady. Stephanos flexed his fingers and gently rocked the fist inside the young man's passage. At length Dorian adjusted to fist that fucked him and he took his cock in his own free hand and beat himself off, all the time panting hard, groaning, and voicing his pained passion.

When he'd shot his load, Stephanos extracted his hand, rolled over on top of Dorian, between the young man's spread thighs, held him close, thrust his shaft up into Dorian's now-gaping passage, and fucked the hell out of him.

"You took that well," the Greek said. "You are quite talented." His voice had an aura of approval in it.

They lay stretched out beside each other afterward, Dorian still panting and moaning, as Stephanos juggled the two balls of twine. The younger man watched him for a while before gathering enough breath to ask the Greek, "What do you have that twine for?"

"To guide us on the path."

"I don't understand."

"You've been to the labyrinth of Knossos, but did you know there were other labyrinths here on Crete?"

"No, I didn't. Do they all have a Minotaur at the center of them?"

"Would you like to find out? There's a labyrinth right here, nearby, in a cave. We're lying on the path to the entrance to it. It's in the cliffside behind us. You are an archaeologist. Would you like to explore what very few others know about on Crete of the time back to the Minoans?" He sat up, reached into the basket, and pulled out a couple of heavy-duty flashlights. "Come explore with me."

"I don't know. I don't know if I can put my legs together after what you just did."

"Come into the labyrinth with me. We will explore and then I will make love to you again—I'll fuck you like you've never been fucked before. Here, drink this first." He produced another bottle of wine from the basket, a smaller one from the others. He opened it and gave it to Dorian. "No, it's all for you. Drink it all."

Dorian did so, and the effects of the wine—a feeling of languidness and slight euphoria emotionally and a greater loosening of his internal passage—dilating him even more and deeper than Stephanos had done with his fist—physically started to set in as, the both of them still naked, Stephanos took his hand and guided him through the rocks behind where they had been lying and to the entrance of a cave.

Here they stopped and Stephanos took the balls of string he was carrying with him. One end of each strand he tied to the base of a small tree, each strand to a separate tree. The other end of one he tied to Dorian's ankle and the end of the other to his own ankle. "I know the way through the labyrinth, but we may be separated," he said. "This will ensure we each can find our way out, if needed."

The passage into the cave twisted and turned and gave false invitations as a true labyrinth will. Dorian was fascinated with the clearly ancient paintings on the passage walls picked out by the light of his flashlight. He twice became separated from Stephanos in the dark passage, taking turns that the Greek did, but their voices and the string brought them back together again. There was a mist in the passage, some sort of gas that added to Dorian's disorientation and haziness. The sensation of his channel dilating increased, and he would have given more thought to the possibility that Stephanos's fist had done damage if he had been in more control of his mental facilities than he was.

After quite a long time they spied a lighted area ahead of them. It wasn't the first lighted chamber they came to. At a few other places, there were channels upward in the ceiling of the chambers that reached the surface and brought beams of light down into the cave. In time, though, they entered a much larger chamber, with several access points to the surface and the flashlights weren't need.

"What in the hell is this?" Dorian asked, his eyes first going to the wall painting, which was in the vein of the Minoan art he'd seen already in ruins and journal articles, centering on the games of bull baiting and leaping. But the intensity of points of light in beams increasing as clouds scuttled away in the sky above the chamber ceiling took Dorian's eye to the gilded throne across the chamber and the large area of animal skins padding at one side and then through an arch to a smaller chamber that was lined with bones—human skeletons and sculls. The light in this chamber was dimmer, though, and he turned to say something to Stephanos.

But Stephanos wasn't there.

Dorian looked around in panic for the other man, although, in his drugged state, panic was lethargic and dulled. A tapestry was off to the side, and he saw it shimmer and then a figure come out from behind it.

"Stephanos. Where did that headdress from the Halloween party come from?"

The figure's head—that of a white bull with curved horns—was identical to the Minotaur headdress Stephanos had worn at the party, but this wasn't Stephanos. This figure was over seven feet tall and, though of human male form, much more muscular than any human Dorian had ever seen. It had, swinging between its thighs, a shaft that was as long and thick as a grown man's forearm. The balls were the shape and size of lemons. And it wasn't topped with a papier-mâché headdress. This was the monster's head.

This was the Minotaur.

Dorian stood, helpless and slow to react, eyes wide and trained on the Minotaur, as the monster advanced on him. Dorian did stumble backward but to no avail. The monster took the young man up into his arms, carried him over to the throne, sat in the massive seat, embracing Dorian in his strong arms. Pulling Dorian into his lap, facing away from him, he put Dorian's gaping passage on the huge cock, being able to penetrate because the drug Stephanos had given the young man did its trick, but unable to penetrate too far, despite the preparation Stephanos's fist had provided. That was not accepted by the Minotaur as a problem. As Dorian ineffectually struggled and howled, the monster buried the cock to a deeper depth that any man would be able to.

The young man struggled and cried out in pain, increasingly laced with passion, as the monster held him close and raised and lowered him on the cock, turning Dorian to facing him and fucking him interminably in that position as well until Dorian gave up the struggle and lay docilely there, letting the Minotaur have what he was going to take anyway.

At length the Minotaur rose from the throne and carried the completely yielding body of the young American over to the pile of animal skins, where he laid Dorian on his back, spread and bent the young man's legs, placed skins under Dorian's buttocks to raise his hips and roll his pelvis up, and settled down between the young man's thighs, entering him to such a depth as Dorian's greatly dilated passage would allow, and fucked him and fucked him and fucked him.

When Dorian woke, it was night. The chamber was dim, but a full moon was out, so there was enough light in the chamber that the young man could see that the Minotaur was stretched out beside him on the animal skins. The monster was snoring.

Dorian was as sore as he could be but something in the back of his still-drugged and addled brain told him he needed to escape if he could. This fought with the almost equal urge to want to be totally fucked like that again. He felt a tingling sensation at one of his ankles and reached down to discover that the thread was still in place, tied around the ankle.

Stephanos had told him that that was how he could find his way out. As silently as he could he rose and went to the chamber entrance that the string slithered into. At the entrance, he paused and looked around at the Minotaur in repose, his giant cock snaking down his thigh, still fearsome when flaccid.

Aided by the drug dilating his passage and the mists of the labyrinth that helped mellow him out and increase his arousal, he had to say that this had been the fuck of his life. Could it get any better than this? Was this the best sexual experience he was to have in life? Hadn't Stephanos asked him about this—whether after an ultimate fuck like this he'd be willing to die if he knew it was the greatest sex he'd ever have? He'd have to think about all of this later. His mind was too hazy to think about this now.

He turned, and, following the string in the dark, managed, in time, to stumble out of the cave. The full moon allowed him to see his way back to the camp. It was a surprised Colin Doukas who sat up in his bed in the encampment villa and saw a naked Dorian tumble into his bedroom.

"Dorian!" he exclaimed. "Where have you been? You've been gone for two days."

"Take me. Fuck me. Use me hard," Dorian cried out, as, in a drunken stupor, he struggled over to the bed and collapsed on top of Colin. Always game to fuck a young man, Colin happily complied. They fucked all night. But Dorian was insatiable and his mind was floating into the stratosphere.

After Colin left in the morning, Dorian sought out Stephanos, who also was happy to fuck him silly. Over the day, Colin and Stephanos handed him back and forth, Dorian never coming down to earth mentally and forever saying he wasn't getting enough cock—neither in thickness and length nor in frequency.

That night, under cloud cover and holding a flashlight, a mumbling Dorian stumbled back to the cave, guided by Stephanos. At the entrance, Stephanos tied string to trees and then ankles again, and he guided Dorian through the labyrinth to the Minotaur's lair.

There was no light coming into the chamber from the skylights in the main chamber in this second and final time with Stephanos's master, the Minotaur. When they entered the chamber, Dorian, whose heart was racing and who could hear the snuffling and snorting of Minotaur somewhere in the dark, stood, whimpering, the drug that had aided him the previous couple of days starting to wear off, his mind starting to clear, and panic beginning to set in.

"Stephanos?" he said. "Where are you?"

But Stephanos wasn't there, He'd cut the string attached to Dorian's ankle and pulled it with him as he retreated through the labyrinth.

The Minotaur reached out, enfolded Dorian into his arms, and carried him over to the pile of animal skins. Lowering the trembling young man onto the skins and stripping off his shorts, all that he was wearing, the Minotaur grasped Dorian's wrists and pinned the young man's arms over his head, as he settled in between Dorian's thighs and, as the young man arched his head up and cried to the darkness in pain-passion, gave him the monster's entire length and thickness of the cock again and again and again, fucking him hard, fast, deep, forever.

Like Spiros and Theo before him, Dorian never appeared above ground again.