After years trapped in a frustrated marriage and drowning in long hours of work, I found myself on a mandatory holiday, alone, on one of the most breath-taking Greek islands. Mykonos, they call it a paradise—and it truly is. Standing amidst this ancient, sun-drenched land, I felt the quiet stirrings of long-buried desires.
Before my wife—my girlfriend back then—got pregnant, there was a time when I was young, curious, and unbound by responsibility. We were just 18, still figuring out who we were and what life had to offer. I had dreams, forbidden cravings, that I tucked away in the shadowy corners of my mind. Those same cravings now surged forward, untamed, as if this island’s raw beauty had unlocked a door I thought was sealed forever.
For years, I hadn’t even thought about sex. My life was routine, my bed cold, my desires muted. But today was different. Today, I felt a hunger for something new, a pull to explore what I’d denied myself for so long.
With a mix of excitement and trepidation, I made my way to a secluded nudist beach near my resort. If this was my time to live freely, to experiment, why not start here? Lying face down on the warm sand, a book in my hands—though I barely read a word—I let the world move around me. My bare skin drank in the sun, and I watched people pass by, their bodies so unapologetically free, their confidence almost intoxicating.
I felt proud, in a way, to be here, to take this step. But beneath that pride, there was vulnerability. I wasn’t a big man. My frame was modest, my personality quiet. At work, I was in control, commanding respect as the boss. But in my personal life, I lacked that same power.
I couldn’t help but notice the men around me—their broad shoulders, sculpted torsos, and the way they carried themselves with such ease. Then there were their cocks, swinging unabashedly as they walked past. They weren’t shy; they owned their bodies. And I… well, I wasn’t so sure about mine. Mine dick was functional, I guess. It “did the job,” but it was nothing to flaunt.
Watching them stirred something deep inside me, something I hadn’t felt in decades. Memories of a kiss—soft, tentative, yet electric—came rushing back. It had been in a high school bathroom back in France, with a friend whose name still lingered on my lips, even now. His body against mine, his cock pressing into my thigh… I’d wanted so much more back then. But it was the ’80s, and life had a way of derailing such desires. Soon after, my girlfriend got pregnant, and everything changed.
But today, I was free. I didn’t know what that meant, not yet. All I knew was that I was here, my body hidden beneath a towel, and my arousal was impossible to ignore. For the first time in years, I felt alive.
I was lost in the view, the horizon stretching endlessly before me, when an unexpected chill raced up my spine. Startled, I turned, and there he was—a real-life Greek god standing before me.
He was massive, his powerful chest blocking the sun entirely, casting a shadow over my body. His presence was commanding, almost overwhelming, as though he had stepped straight from the pages of myth. A light blue pair of shorts clung to his hips, and a white shirt hung open, revealing golden, sun-kissed skin that glistened faintly. His face mirrored my surprise, his brow furrowing slightly before he apologized, his deep voice rich with sincerity.
“I thought you were someone else,” he said, his accent thick and melodic. A friend, perhaps?
I hadn’t even realized I was frowning until he insisted on making it up to me. “Let me buy you a drink,” he offered, his tone both earnest and confident.
Before I could respond, he strode off, returning moments later with two margaritas in hand. Without hesitation, he laid his towel next to mine, so close that the edges overlapped, and the intimacy of it made my pulse quicken. His English wasn’t perfect, but his charm was undeniable. He spoke with such ease, his confidence wrapping around me like the warm island breeze. I didn’t resist as he naturally took control of the moment, as though we had known each other far longer than a few passing glances.
Then, to my utter disbelief, he began undressing.
I must have looked ridiculous, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as I watched him peel off his shirt. It was like a scene from a movie, every motion slow and deliberate in my mind. His skin was flawless, his muscles rippling with each movement, his tan so even it seemed painted by the sun itself.
And then, as he slid the blue shorts down his legs, my breath caught.
Even soft, his cock hung impressively, thick and veined, a testament to his raw masculinity. My body betrayed me instantly, heat flooding my cheeks and something primal stirring deep inside. It had been so long since I’d felt anything like this. Desire surged through me, hot and undeniable. He must have seen it in my expression, the way I stared, unable to look away.
He smirked, a knowing glint in his eye.
With the margarita in hand, I sat down beside him, the two of us now facing the ocean. The rhythmic crash of the waves was a soundtrack to his voice as he asked about my life, punctuating his words with small jokes and easy laughter. He was magnetic, the kind of man who could command a room—or, in this case, the stretch of beach around us—with effortless charm.
As we talked, he began to spread sunscreen over his body. My eyes followed his hands, helplessly captivated as they glided over every inch of his chest, shoulders, and arms. Then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he turned and asked, “Can you do my back?”
“Of course,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.
Touching his skin sent a jolt through me. It was warm, firm, and impossibly smooth under my fingers. My heart thundered in my chest, and I could feel my arousal pressing insistently against the fabric of my towel. I tried to stay composed, but he noticed—there was no hiding it.
With a sly, almost teasing smile, he took the tube of sunscreen from my hand. “My turn,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.
He kept talking as he worked, his hands spreading the cream over my shoulders, my back, then lower. I barely registered his words. I was in a trance, lost in the sensation of his touch. His fingers lingered, skimming just close enough to make me tremble. My mind was spinning, thoughts unravelling into raw, unfiltered desire.
I wanted him. All of him. To feel his lips on mine, his body against mine. To give in to the hunger that had lain dormant for so long. But for now, I could only hold onto the moment, savoring every lingering caress as his hands ventured just a little closer, teasing the edge of control.
As his hand trailed lower, skimming just close enough to my aching arousal, I felt the dam inside me break. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. A surge of everything I had suppressed for so many years—desire, hunger, raw need—rushed to the surface.
My body betrayed me completely, trembling as an intense, uncontrollable wave of pleasure overtook me. I came harder than I had in years, the release both exhilarating and overwhelming. My breath hitched as I fought to stay quiet, desperate not to draw attention to what was happening within me.
But he knew.
His eyes locked on mine, his lips curling into a satisfied, knowing smile. The heat of his gaze made me shiver, even as I tried to regain control of myself. He reached for a tissue with a casual, almost teasing grace, and as he leaned closer, I felt his breath warm against my ear.
“Prepare yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Today, you are mine.”
His words sent a fresh jolt of electricity through me, a promise laced with dominance and desire. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t even move, as the weight of those words hung between us, thick with anticipation. He had claimed me with nothing more than a whisper, and I knew, without a doubt, that he meant it.
TO BE CONTINUED…
