Aphrodite in Athensbyarchilochus©
In my early 30s I took a teaching job at a language school in Athens. I wanted to do some travelling, so I bought a car, a cute little Fiat Punto. And I met Aphrodite (her real name). She was one of my adult students, in her mid-20s, a civil engineer who needed to improve her English to get a better job as a bridge inspector (or something like that). She lived with her family in a coastal suburb. After class in the evening I would drive her home, though her parents thought she got home by bus.
But I wouldn't take her straight home. We'd park at a spot along the coast that was something of a lovers' lane. There were always a dozen or so cars there, and we'd seen couples making out, and sometimes making love, in more than a few back seats and front seats. We did the same. It was very sexy to be carrying on like a teenager -- a phase of life I had never had enough of when I was the right age for it.
Where there are lovers' lanes near cities, there are voyeurs. In my experience they are harmless. They are timid men who just like to watch. Oh, maybe they'd like to join in, but they don't really expect to. Let them watch and you make them happy.
The first time we experienced a voyeur was a little unsettling. The man pulled in very close to us, just a few feet away. We stopped what we were doing -- we were in the back seat with the front seats tipped forward, and I had removed Aphrodite's jersey, so that she was wearing only her sexy, white demi-cup bra on top. She sought shelter in my arms, turning away from the other car and spreading her long dark hair over me. I watched the man as he reclined his seat all the way back so that only his eyes peered above the bottom of his rear driver's-side window. There he waited, just like many another patient predator. He seemed to be around 50 years old, with short, iron-gray hair.
I reported on his posture to Aphrodite, who stole a quick glance. She was nervous. But I was secretly excited. It's strange to say, but part of me identified with the man. To be honest, part of me even wanted to take his place and watch myself and Aphrodite.
But watch what? Aphrodite cowering in my arms? I reassured her: "He seems harmless."
"He's so close. Maybe we should go."
"Our doors are locked. Don't worry. Pay no attention to the man behind the screen. Pay attention to me."
And with that, I kissed Aphrodite full on the lips, and let my lips stay right there. She was happy to be kissed, and soon we were kissing passionately, though we hadn't changed our position. I straightened her up against the back seat and kissed her again. We both glanced at the man, but he had slunk down out of sight. Light from a streetlight fell across those demi-cups. I kissed Aphrodite on the neck, the throat, the chest, and her chest rose as she took a quick breath. She looked over at the man again like a skittish horse. I kissed her on the mouth again and then dropped my head and my tongue between those slightly dusky breasts -- the tint of Aphrodite's skin was a warm Greek shade of brown. The wine of her perfume went to my head, and the heat rising from that skin inflamed me.
Aphrodite too was feeling the call of sex, man or no man. I decided not to rush things. I wouldn't expose her breasts, but I wanted her pants off. More kissing, and my hand grabbed the fabric of her jeans at her crotch, rough with all that stitching, and hot, and already moist.
"Let me get these off you. Turn around. It's OK. I'll take care of you. Se thelo." I didn't know much Greek, but I had learned the words for "I want you."
Aphrodite slowly turned around on the seat and rested her head between the headrests, turning it away from the watcher. In other words, she was kneeling backwards on the back seat. He back was bare except for the white straps of her bra. Such a beautiful smooth back. I told her so. Then I reached around and unbuttoned her jeans and slid her zipper down its track. Her jeans split apart. I imagined the wild animal of her body being glad to be released from its cage.
But really, I had just opened the door a crack. The jeans had to come off. I had to tug, and slide, and adjust, and pull. The man had taken an interest. He sat up and watched intently, unembarrassed, oblivious of me, his eyes riveted on Aphrodite's ass. The top of her panties was now exposed. She wasn't wearing a thong, but already I -- we -- could see that her panties were cut to show most of her cheeks. And then, where her ass swelled to its widest, her jeans got stuck for a moment. I would have to give them a hard tug to get them down. I did, and suddenly they dropped down to the top of her thighs. Her panties had travelled halfway down her ass as well. I actually pulled them back up, since I wanted to take them down again myself. I looked over at the man. His eyes were the hard, fierce eyes of a bird of prey.
I slipped Aphrodite's sandals off and wriggled her jeans down below her knees and pulled them down past her calves and ankles. She turned her head around and smiled at me. The man ducked before Aphrodite could catch a glimpse of him.
"Oh, he watched," I said, "but he doesn't want to scare you. He's as timid as a churchmouse. Don't worry about him."
I took off my shirt. I took off my jeans. I sat back and lifted Aphrodite on top of me. The man popped up. Aphrodite saw him and ducked down, pressing herself on me.
"I like it when we're close," I said, "but don't worry about the man. Don't look at him. I'll keep an eye on him for us."
I spread my hands and grasped Aphrodite by all that bare flesh on either side of her panties. My cock stiffened and throbbed in my briefs, and Aphrodite felt it between her legs and pressed herself against it and rose and fell against it. She had decided to give me a little lap dance, riding up my shaft and massaging the knob between her labia through her wet panties and sliding back down again. I held on to her ass and stared at the goddess on top of me.
When I glanced over at the man I saw that he had rolled down his window and was hanging his head out toward us so that his hawk-like eyes were closer than ever.
I started to peel Aphrodite's panties down by stroking her from the small of her back to the bottom of her ass, exposing a bit more of flesh with every pass.
"Take them off," I said.
In a moment it was done and I was inside her up to the hilt. No condom necessary; she took the pill. I wrapped my arms around her back and held her by the shoulders and pressed her body down to force myself as deep into her as I could. I felt my cock expanding and extending inside her. She tightened her sheath around me. We had locked each other in love.
It was all too much for the man. He opened his front door and squeezed out. Our window was open a crack at the top. There he set his eyes to avoid any glare from the glass. He undid his fly and began to masturbate. Once again Aphrodite froze.
"The door is locked. He's only looking," I said steadily, though I was a little nervous myself. I held up my hand to the man. He backed off with an apologetic look.
"He will do what I tell him," I said.
It was time for another kiss, a long, deep kiss that seemed to dissolve the tension. I pulsed my imprisoned organ tantrically, and Aphrodite squeezed me in return. I slid the bra straps off her shoulders. I had been saving the best for last. Aphrodite's breasts were of average size but they rode high on her body, and her nipples were a deep dark rose color. The tops of her dark areolae peeped out over the white lace trim of her cups. I undid the clasp at her back and her bra dropped off. Before she could hide I had taken one nipple into my mouth. The man reapproached, Aphrodite struggled a little to draw away, but I had her in my arms, and between my lips. I took a nipple between my teeth. I knew that would excite her, and keep her still. And I knew she loved what I did to those brown breasts, first one, then the other, gorging on that springy hot flesh. Soon she began to move, to ride, to slide, to press and rub and slowly whip her body against mine in sweet convulsive strokes.
We were lost in each other now. She had no more thought for our watcher. I looked at his face at the top of the window. He didn't see me watching him -- his stare was fixed on Aphrodite's sleek body as it moved like a snake on top of me. I saw a look of longing, almost of pain, in that man's eyes. The fierceness was gone. He was rhythmically stroking himself as he watched.
The more Aphrodite rode, the more excited we became. We were rising higher and higher toward some unseen summit. I pressed my belly up against Aphrodite's mass of dark pubic hair. She pressed back and ground herself against me. I attacked her with rapid driving strokes and held her hard. We came together loudly, with anguished ecstatic cries -- and I heard the man cry out too, a desperate orgasmic cry in the night air. He retreated immediately to his car. We both looked over when he shut the door.
We were trembling in each other's arms. Aphrodite swung off and sat beside me. We pulled our shirts on and held each other weakly. The man drove off. It was a long time before our heartbeats returned to normal.
My next class with Aphrodite was the following week. I had called her but hadn't seen her in the meantime. She admitted that it had been sexy for her to be watched, after the initial discomfort. That was all I needed to hear. I couldn't wait to return to our parking spot in the hope of being watched again.
I played it straight during class, except when it came time to explain the use of passive infinitives. I gave two examples, looking right at Aphrodite: to be seen, to have been seen. She asked me to use them in a sentence. I blushed, but I thought for a moment and said, "The desire to be seen is a natural human feeling. To have been seen doing your best goes by the name of glory. What I'm saying is that we're all show-offs at heart. It is better to be seen that not to be seen," I said, with a nod to Oscar.
Right after class I presented Aphrodite with a little gift. It was a t-shirt I had picked up in the Plaka. It showed an image of the Venus de Milo -- known in Greek as the Aphrodite of Milos, after the island where it was found -- with the word "Goddess" above it in cursive letters. And across the top of the shirt were a series of holes arranged in an arc from one side of the chest to the other, getting larger as they descended, ending just at the top of the right breast. They didn't show anything, really, but the suggestion was unmistakable. Aphrodite slipped into the ladies room and put it on, with nothing underneath. She looked stunning, and she knew it. She was ready for glory.
There were lots of cars at our spot, and we parked in between two of them. I was afraid we might not be able to be approached, but I was willing to leave that to chance. I didn't want to seem too eager, though secretly I was. There were couples in the cars beside us, and one in the back seat seemed to be up to something, though it was hard to see past the reflections of the glass.
The night was unusually warm for November. I suggested we step outside. We walked down to the top of the rocky embankment, then back to the car. Only we didn't get in. I led Aphrodite around to the back of the Punto. I pressed her against the back window and kissed her. Why go inside? It was such a beautiful night. There was soft light playing on us from a streetlight; it seemed to brush across us as it passed through leaves moving in the light breeze.
It wasn't long before I was kissing her chest through all those little holes. They began the size of a dime and increased to almost the size of a half dollar. And the fabric was stretchy, so that the holes could be moved around. And the 50 cent hole could be pulled down the slope of Aphrodite's left breast all the way to the nipple, and I tugged it down and stole one kiss on that sensitive rosy flesh. Then I reached around under the back of that sweet little t-shirt and held Aprhodite by the bare skin of her slim hips, and I looked her in the eyes and said the word "goddess."
A moment later, as if conjured from thin air, a man peered out from behind the back of the car two cars down. He must have been watching us, or at least he wanted to watch. He tried to hide, but he could not prevent himself from being seen. Finally he just let his head remain popped around the back of the car (his own?), like an elf in the woods or a curious but timid wild animal. We both saw him at the same moment. He was not the man of our previous encounter, but someone younger and better-looking.
It was clear that he wanted to keep his distance (or thought he had better keep his distance) once he had been detected. But when we didn't dive for cover, he seemed to become less furtive and gaze at us without shame.
"The woods are full of spirits," I said to Aphrodite. For some reason the man did not seem threatening, thought there was nothing to prevent him from springing fifteen feet in our direction before we could react. My eyes met his, as if to say "Stay where you are. (And you might not regret it)." And he seemed to reply with his eyes "Just don't stop." The fact is that both Aphrodite and I were in a free and fearless (and turned-on) mood. There was something intoxicating in that balmy, briny air.
So I moved my hands under her t-shirt up to her ribs. Then around to her braless back, then down to her hips and again up inside the front of that cotton tee, and I let those fingers slide all the way up to her breasts, filling my hands with them and fondling them to my heart's content. A full, tender, swirling kiss was my way of saying thanks. And asking for more.
Her own hands had tugged my shirt out of my pants and she too stroked my back and ribs inside the fabric. I dropped my hands again, but this time when I raised them I was hanging on to the bottom of her t-shirt. I raised it slowly, first on one side, then on the other, as I kissed her. And I cocked an eye over at our friend. He was still mostly behind his car, but I caught him with his cock in his hand. He quickly hid, but I was glad he was enjoying the show.
And now I was clutching Aphrodite's t-shirt just below her breasts, and gently rubbing my knuckles across her nipples from outside the fabric. She knew what I was going to do next. She glanced over at the man. This time he froze but he didn't dive.
I said, "He likes to watch."
And then I looked into Aphrodite's eyes, into her dark brown eyes, and slowly lifted her shirt above her breasts. I dropped my eyes: it was as if the statue of the goddess on her shirt had warmed and softened into the perfect light brown body before me -- before me and the man whose voyeur's dreams were coming true on this warm Athenian night. I kissed those breasts, I sucked them and sucked them as if I could never get my fill of them. Aphrodite dropped a hand and started stroking my swollen member through my pants.
After a while I let the t-shirt drop back down.
"I adore you," I said. She smiled and said, "Let's switch places."
And so we did, which meant that I could reach freely around her and hold her ass in my hands. I reached in front of her and undid the button I knew so well, and unzipped her until there was no more to unzip. Remember, we were outdoors in a semi-public place. Not really a good, safe place to get naked. That was not my design. I just wanted to be able to thrust my hands down inside the back of Aphrodite's jeans. Now there was room for them, but not so much room that I didn't feel that my hands were not prying into a secret room. I remember the first time (in junior high school) I heard the question "Did you get in her pants?" Ever since I have loved to get in women's pants.
I felt her warm ass cheeks and her flimsy panties, and I felt her jeans dropping down as I stroked and burrowed. I could see I was exposing her body at the level where her ass began to swell: below the hips, where the roundness begins. Aphrodite had a firm, curvy ass, not large, but tight and round. I wanted more than anything to show it off -- just like the ancient Greek sculptor, if you've ever checked out the statue from the rear.
I could sense that Aphrodite was a little nervous at the prospect of being so exposed. And for that reason I thrust my hand down the front of her jeans, inside her panties, past her patch of pubic hair until I felt her soft, hot, slick slit with my fingertips. I could feel the swollen clitoris at the top, just asking to be rubbed, and I swirled my fingers around it, and above it, and then, after two direct hits on that protruding bead of flesh, I pushed a fingertip inside of her and heard her sigh at my ear. I travelled that little track from bud to the bottom of the blossom where the honey is five or six times. The sounds at my ear became more passionate.
She must have been thinking that two can play this game. She suddenly undid my belt -- roughly -- and unzipped my jeans and dropped down to her knees and dragged my pants and briefs down, wrapped her fingers around my cock and took it in her mouth. Our watcher moved one car closer to us, dropped down to his knees himself and masturbated openly. I got a good look at him: he was a nice-looking guy maybe 40 years old with dark curly hair -- and an impressive, curving cock that he wanted to show off. Aphrodite stroked me and sucked me more aggressively than I had ever known her to do it before. I looked down at her ass sticking out with her jeans half-down. The thought crossed my mind that I wanted to see the watcher pull Aphrodite's pants down and take her from behind as she sucked and stroked me. Or let me do it as she sucked and stroked him.
Instead Aphrodite came up for air and was frightened to see the man so close with that big cock in his hand.
"Let's get inside," she said. She was right. Things had probably gone far enough in the open air. There were occasional passers-by on the path by the shore, and we had no reason to trust our voyeur. Into the back seat we climbed, and set the seats forward. I took my pants all the way off and Aphrodite did the same. I raised her goddess jersey over her head and took my own shirt off. I was naked and all Aphrodite had on was her panties.
"Kneel and I'll get these off for you."
I had left our window open a crack for air. More than a crack, but less than a man's arm could pass through. The man was at the window in no time. I teased those panties down over Aphrodite's ass and down her thighs and off her ankles.
"Hold it right there," I said. I wanted her from behind. I mounted her and sank right into her. She was hot and tight and satiny smooth. I began to give her long slow strokes when suddenly a beam of light fell on my phallus. It was the man shining a little Maglite on us, a little spotlight. He directed the beam right at the point at which I was penetrating Aphrodite's cleft of flesh. The light made the skin of my slick shaft shine. He shone the light on Aphrodite's back, on her ass, but always back to the point of penetration.
I looked at the man, and he smiled at me and nodded his head in approval. I smiled back. It was as if I was fucking Aphrodite for him. I increased my rhythm. I started to bump and slap at the end of my thrusts. I felt like letting go, and I could tell from the noises she was making that Aphrodite wanted me not to hold back. I could have come in a hurry, we both could have, but I wanted the party to last.
I picked her up, swung her around, and sat her in my lap facing away from me without withdrawing. She looked right at the man, gasped a little gasp, but held her ground. Or rather, I held it. I had wrapped my arms around her. There was nothing she could do about it. Except watch as the man shone his flashlight on her, on her breasts, on her smooth belly, and then at the place where our bodies were joined. "How do you like my goddess," I thought. I relaxed my hold. Aphrodite looked down at the spotlight herself, and raised herself up, and sank down again on that pole of stiff, lit-up flesh. I held her by the hips and she plunged down on me in a rhythm that she set herself. I raised my hands and caressed her breasts and kissed her neck and shoulders. We were both close to coming.