Ancient Craving

Steven thought boarding a plane and flying from the U.S. to Greece would lessen the tight knot in which he had been twisted since Ben had stormed out of the apartment in NYC, leaving him standing dumb and speechless. It had been a month now since that day. In the last few days, there had been something calling to him.  Something that said, “my arms are open, and I await.”  But what was “this something” that was calling to him.  He was crazy.  He knew it.  Just like he knew the day Ben had decided to move into his lower Manhattan apartment, he knew then they were so different that they might not be able to overcome their differences.

Steven had booked a flight from New York to Athens, Greece, hours and miles later boarding a ferry in Tinos, he could now see the steeple of the Paraportiani Church through which many dead sailors had passed haven been killed and then eulogized in some long forgotten battle.  The constant knot he was in along with the roll of the ferry had made him nauseous.  He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it across his face, removing perspiration that was building as the sun rose, in the east to bring another hot day to the island.  Time stopped for a moment, and he reflected upon the stories friends had told him in regards to Mykonos most of which he attributed to their drunken state while on the island.

Ted, a college buddy, told Steven before he left New York that he would find Mykonos an “unworldly” place.  He jabbered on to Steven for 30 minutes about the wild sexual parties and in particular mentioned watching a Minotaur penetrating a man’s rear brutally and how sweat beaded soon the man’s downward turned belly (doggy-style of course) that drops rolled down single hairs and onto stone below.  The Minotaur was crazed, the man in ecstasy.  Steven laughed a full-throated laugh and spoke out loud, “there is no such thing as a Minotaur,” causing passengers around him to back away, looking at him as if he was crazy.  Ted insisted that there was “mystical power” that dwelled at Mykonos.

Disembarking Steven came down the ferry’s ramp and onto the quay.  His attention was immediately drawn to an old man who seemed to be peering at him -- and only him -- as passengers rushed around him and on their way to whatever.   The man locked eyes with him. He moved past the old man whose position turned to hold him in a locked gaze.  Something was mildly creepy about the old guy for sure.  

Minutes passed, he did not know how many, and Steven realized his coiled in a knot sense had subsided.  In fact, it had been replaced by something else and what he wanted to do was strip naked in the middle of the street and jerk his hardening cock.  There was a growing warmth running from just under his hairy balls that enveloped his now rigid cock, and spread up his fuzzy belly to his chest and now tingling nipples. He swore his balls were growing, and all he wanted was man flesh to fuck.  A wet spot appeared on the front of his jeans making him thankful he was not far from his hotel where his bags were to be delivered.  He meandered along the store fronts where they were opening for the day, surprised a bar was opening but decided to drop in.

Finding his way through the dimly lit place with a few candles continuing to burn from the night before, he settled at the end of a long bar running front to back down one side of the large central room of the bar. Ordering Volkan beer recommended by Ted, he was startled when suddenly the old man on the quay sat down beside him. Realizing his tongue was locked, not to mention being creeped out by a man who appeared to be 500 years old, he said nothing.  Instead his new bar mate spoke,  "I am Andreas and you are here for the Bacchanal.  You feel it.  It calls.  It began at the base of your balls." Steven was truly unnerved now but in spite of that his cock throbbed, and he believed he was about to blow a big sloppy load in his jeans.  He did not realize it, but it would be the first of many.

Steven suddenly felt as if he had moved into some other realm or place and his cock began to pump.  First one long deep stroke that moved a massive amount of jism down his fuck tube and out into his jeans.  It continued.  The jeans covering his inner thighs were becoming soaked with cum yet he did not stop.  He whispered, not conscious or aware he was speaking, “where is it coming from?”  In reply the old man simply said, “Welcome to The Bacchanal.”

Time stopped as it had on the ferry and he found himself high in the hills above Mykonos Bay in a garden with many men and even creatures he did not recognize.  All around there was flesh.  The only covering to conceal was hair, more of course on half-man-half-animal creatures such as the Minotaur Ted had told him of.  Yes, the Minotaur was present.  His head was that of a bull, but the muscular body of a man ran from neck to knee.  From the knee down were the legs of an ass replete with hooves.  The Minotaur had lifted a muscular blond of perhaps six feet and two hundred pounds with his right arm around the blond’s waist using a swift motion to impale the blond with his monstrous penis “in-and-out.”  The blond’s cock was at least eleven inches, the shaft white while the head turned a deep purple and pulsed intermittent drops of pre-cum as well as cum.  Suddenly the blond blew.  He arched his back even in the Minotaur’s grip, and much like Steven had in the bar pulsed rope after rope of delicious white cum.  The bull head of the Minotaur snorted and fucked ass even harder.

Steven realized his shirt was gone, but he still wore his jeans.  He found himself surrounded by a group of small men who were almost elven.  They were not all the same size.  Some were very tiny, perhaps four inches tall, while others were as tall as four feet.  They lifted him rotating him face up and carried him up a path through the garden.  He passed a fountain flowing with wine.  Men and creatures jostled around the fountain filling goblets with wine. Two men sprawled beside the fountain, one with the others cock head in his mouth working it and sending the man into ecstasy.  Moments later Steven found himself being placed on a stone table low to the ground.  Holes covered the table, but he did not find it awkward.

The Elves as he was now calling them spread across the table all around him.  His jeans disappeared with little hands cutting or tearing them away.  Wearing no jockeys he was now naked.  The Elves paused and viewed him in all his nakedness.  His feet were blocky and square, with robust toes that did not bring the foot so much to a taper as some men.  Blond hair sprinkled to the top of each foot matched in the color hair on his toes.  One Elf must have been overwhelmed as he moved to Steven’s right foot and began to clean his toes and feet by sucking and caressing.  Up his blocky thighs also covered in a beautiful blond pelt, other Elves began to move in.  Sucking, caressing, massaging and making his already hard cock and now huge balls grow with even more cum.

An Elf slipped between Steven’s legs and moved his tiny body under his balls.  Another hopped up on the Elf’s shoulders grabbing a nut and beginning to work it.  The lower Elf simply placed a hand at his chute and moved hand and arm into him after that it touched his prostate, and he released an “aahhhhhhhhh” before exhaling and dripping a long stream of cum from his turgid cock.  

Steven winced, seeing an Elf take a stripped lily stem and aim it at the slit at the end of his cock.  It had yet to touch the cock tip, but soon it was inserted carrying an unreal feeling down his shaft as it progressed to the base of his cock.  Where all the cum was coming from he did not know, that thought not stopping it from spewing out and over he and the Elves, where tiny workmen clamored over him with tiny wheelbarrows moving cum off him and away into the distance.  He spoke, “you guys are crazy, but damn I’m going to blow another load.”  And he did blow another load, with a regular procession of Elves removing cum and ‘working’ on various parts of his body.  

Soon a medium sized Elf mounted his lower abdomen and sat facing his cock pushing and smoothing cum filled pubic hair aside as he sat.  Both hands covered in lily oil, the Elf began to work the oil into Steven’s shaft.  Steven felt as if he were floating.  His mind wandered with focus coming as cum slowed every few minutes.  He blew another incredibly big load as two Elves each worked a nipple and massaged the rounded edge of his massive pecs.  A small amount of fluid flowed from each nipple sparking the Elf’s interest.  They responded by massaging the fluid into each areola.

Excitement and chatter filled the garden.  Men and non-men shifted their gaze to a large domed stone gazebo.  Sitting in the center of the gazebo was a table similar to the one on which Steven lay.  It was larger and lacked holes on the top.  Otherwise, it was similar.  Oddly, a glow of light from some undefined place enveloped the gazebo with the first sound of a trumpet.  Into the gazebo stepped a gorgeous man.  Man and creature cheered and shouted “Zeus, Zeus, all hail Zeus.”

He was incredible.  In the center of Zeus’ chest lay a large gold brooch studded with diamonds.  It clasped the ends of a brilliant white silk cape that stretched from the brooch up over the muscle of his upper pecs from which it continued to flow over substantial well-worked traps before disappearing down his back.  Steven noticed the bottom of the cape was square and from it a broad band of gold thread formed a border.  

Zeus was not smooth.  History would likely say otherwise, but here he was in all his splendor and him, Zeus, was a moderately hairy Zeus.  His nipples drew your attention.  Standing at least seven feet tall Zeus was proportioned as any man.  The nipples areola was an inch and one-half.  Both were clearly visible as some Elf had likely trimmed the hair from just around them.  His body was absent from tattoo or piercing. Thus, the nipples were of normal form extending one-quarter inch from the plate of his chest.  The hair sprinkled upon his chest descended into a tightened stream as it flowed off his sternum and falling as it crossed the edges of his belly plates on its way to his navel where it began to darken somewhat.  Leaving the navel, its path widened and became mixed with gold and black hair forming his pubes above an already rigid cock.

The Elves had removed all traces of cum from Steven.  Though his cock was still hard, balls larger than normal and cum filled, he was ready for more sex physically and mentally.  In fact, he did not feel like he had unloaded a gallon of cum.  An Elf asked him to sit upright and so he did.  Two of the four-foot guys came from behind him and fitted a cape of his own; a purple one with a diamond studded brooch placed in the center of his furry chest.  To his amazement, the brooch appeared to emanate a warmth spreading out from its center and connecting with that feeling he had now had for what, an hour?  He did not know.  After sandals had been fitted to his naked feet an elf offered a hand pulling Steven to his feet and guiding him towards a destiny he did not yet know -- Zeus.
Zeus stood facing Steven.  In his right hand, he held a sword that truthfully frightened him.  What was this Zeus, mythical creature maybe or maybe not, to do with that sword.  As he approached Zeus, his fear was abated when Zeus turned and placed the sword on a shelf running between two columns in the gazebo.  Zeus immediately turned to another shelf and poured two goblets of wine, sitting them on the low table.  Perhaps feeling like a bride, the Elf handed Steven off to Zeus who guided him to the low table in a sitting position.

From the broader garden, you observed Zeus and Steven talking, not hearing the words they exchanged.  Activity began to stir once again around the garden.  The Minotaur himself had found a new bottom whether the bottom thought he was a bottom or not.  Held by both hands just above his hips, this brunette with smooth, pearly skin was finding out how deep the stroke of the Minotaur’s cock could be.  

A bell rang bringing attention to the gazebo.  Steven, the object of attention, had mounted the low table.  He gazed behind over his shoulder on hand and knees with Zeus looking him in the eyes while greasing a substantial cock.  An Elf stepped forward under the gazebos cover and issued forth a Proclamation:

“Tonight is the Night of Steven.  In this night, it shall be recorded that Zeus took Steven and only Steven.  Our traveler has come from afar.  Being of a desperate heart, we honor him and take away his pain.  From here forward he shall never be alone.  He can think of us and return to this place at any time.  Unlike Dorothy, heels shall never need to be clicked.”

With that, Zeus reached forward and gripped Steven’s hips.  Pulling him back, his glistening cock touched the threshold of Steven’s chute.  Bells rang across the garden, glasses were lifted high, and Zeus plunged his cock fully into Steven’s ass.  Magic filled the garden and surrounding hills relieving any pain that may have been felt from such a massive cock entering his ass.  Some pain was good and that he had, yet this was simply bliss.  Zeus was unstoppable as he built towards his first orgasm, falling in sync with Steven, who arched and blew seed fifteen feet down the table and onto the stone floor of the gazebo.  Steven’s nipples buzzed.  His balls buzzed.  A buzzing vibration that simply drove him past insanity into a place he had never been.

Settled into a stride, Zeus reached forward and touched the sensitive tips of Steven’s nipples.  “Easy boy” Zeus chimed when Steven’s breath locked having been driven to another level of sexual pleasure.  Zeus focused him by kneading his nipples.  He dropped one hand to Steven’s balls and caressed them while continuing to drive “the cock” rhythmically in and out.  With fever building, Elves appeared and brought Steven wine.  He sipped it.  Another brought cool water and trickled it down either side of his back.  He moaned announcing yet another jet of cum flying forward timed to Zeus unloading more cum against Steven’s quivering prostate.  Time stopped, and he thought again of the old man at the quay.


Several days had passed with Steven not returning to that place, The Bacchanal, where all of the knots and pain had disappeared.  He was not certain he could return to that or if he even wanted to return to that.  The old man had not appeared at the quay.  Asking the bartender where they sat, he had not seen the old man or anyone like him.  “Had it been a dream,” Steven asked himself out loud.

Before leaving Mykonos, sentiment brought Steven to the bar once again.  He sat and fiddled with his drink.  He had ordered American whiskey.  In fact, he had ordered rye whiskey on the rocks.  It was after all time to return home, and he wanted to connect to that place that was home.  

A tap came on his shoulder.  Turning, there he saw the old man standing before him.  “You wonder if it was real don't you?”  posed the old man.  “Yes, I am beginning to think you drugged me, and I dreamed for hours, perhaps days, not knowing where I was or in whom’s presence I resided,” he acknowledged with regret.  The old man motioned saying, “come, let me show you.”  Feeling suddenly reluctant, Steven followed the old man out of the bar and into an alley that led into the hills over the city.

The view was incredible.  Taking perhaps fifteen minutes they had ascended above Mykonos and walked out onto a broad level sandy area maybe two acres in size.  The sun was sinking in the west giving the area a dull if not hazy appearance.  The old man poked the sand with a stick near the center of the area and tapped something solid.  He handed Steven an amulet, telling him, “place the amulet there,” pointing to a dark purplish stone.  “Clap three times.”

And so Steven did.  Magic came again.  The garden formed around him.  The Minotaur came and took his hand.  He was being led somewhere.  In that instance, he did not care.