Clara, Bridget, Hashem and Giorghios were off again. Not Turkey but the small Greek islands. Summer had rolled round and the four had decided to spend a few weeks partying, sailing and swimming, and doing whatever else presented itself. One year older, Hashem’s eyes were red-rimmed after a year of intense study of medicine and the only thing he wanted was sex and brainless pleasure. Clara and Bridget had both begun peering into microorganisms and studying the meaning of life seen through a biologist’s eyes. Giorghios had spent the year learning all about shipping in his family’s business.
More than a decade after the sexual revolution prompted by the advent of the pill, student rebellions in Paris and Woodstock, the foursome were still carrying out he principles of peace and love, even between themselves. Clara had dieted for a month before leaving to make sure that her amphora shape remained pristine, appropriate for their Greek destinations. She was looking forward to mixing her bodily fluids with whomever wished, male or female, although she had a marked preference for male. She loved to see the physical manifestation of desire when an eager male appendage nodded red-faced at her and loved to lick the pearly drops off at the end of a satisfying suck. Although what she really preferred was a cosy soixante-neuf with one while being penetrated from behind with another. Mixed threesomes or even foursomes were her thing.
Bridget had managed to give all the men in their group some infection that took them shamefaced to the clinic for a treatment. Hashem had literally fucked his way through the year – every evening in a different bed. Giorghios, Apollo-like, had observed their mortal antics with amusement, surprisingly preferring intimacy to profligacy. All four looked forward to small creeks and idyllic fruit groves, blue waters and long lazy lovemaking. It would be a summer of love.
After the plane ride, then the ferry, they arrived on the small island nestled in the Cyclades. It was still relatively unspoilt as the hordes headed to Ios and Mykonos to party from sunrise to sunrise. The beaches were still unspoilt and the gold and silver that were mined in the third millennium before the current era long gone. The offerings given to the treasury in Delphi remained part of a more glorious past; the island was now poor and its people hospitable. They had chosen to spend the whole month of July on the island, to see the local Panigiria festivals and taste the simple and delicious foods. The sea was warm and turquoise, the small houses dazzlingly white and an unusually soft, dry meltemi blew. There were lots of bushes for a quick one and enough rocks to lean against to couple.
‘You know, it is said that when there were mines, every year the islanders would present a solid golden egg to Apollo. One year they gave him an egg that was merely plated in gold. Apollo was so angry that he destroyed their mines,’ Giorghios told the other three over breakfast the next day. ‘The island has changed hands, been invaded by pirates and has an illustrious history, even if it is a poor small place now.’
It took a long hike across the hills to get to the beach. Clara was drenched in sweat before even setting out to the water, hiding her fair skin under a wide floppy hat while the others whooped and joked, running ahead, circling back, with the joie-de-vivre that comes with being young and free. Pairing into couples, they searched for places suitable for quick satiation of desire. Giorghios pulled Clara behind some rocks. Clara bent to her knees and deftly unzipped his shorts, pulling out his cock. She cupped his balls in her hands and started to tease the tip, licking the cusp of the glans and the frenulum. She took the whole glans in her mouth and with one hand caressed the length of the member, while the other played with his testicles. She felt his excitement mounting and accelerated her licking and sucking, her hand holding the shaft tightly as it moved up and down, till Giorghios came with a cry. In the time it took to gather their wits again, they were off running to catch up with the others.
‘You owe me one!’ called Clara.
‘I know, I know. Some time…’ Giorghios was more generous in offering his cock to Clara’s mouth than he was in offering his tongue to her labia. Clara was determined that these holidays she would have as many head jobs done to her as she did to him. The count had begun.
Clambering down the hills to a small creek, they discovered a white sandy beach dipping gently into the water. Looking up, they could see the blue domes of a church or two, but the squat buildings showed neither clerestory nor lancet windows, whitewashed to keep the sun and the wind out, a haven from the harsh summer heat and winter cool. A few fishermen were pulling their boats up onto the beach, their morning catch ready to sell.
‘Kalimerasas!’ shouted Giorghios.
‘Kalimerasas!’ a couple of fishermen responded, raising a wrinkled hand. The fishermen stared at this small and sparkling foreign group for a while, watching them as they stripped down to their bathing suits and spread their towels on the warm sand. As the only Greek speaker, Giorghios ran up to them and asked it there was a small boat they could rent or borrow, to explore beyond the headland rocks.
There was no boat and, having ascertained that it was safe to swim out beyond the rocks, Giorghios thanked the fishermen and returned to his friends. They all plunged into the water and swam away, striking out confidently to the rocks and beyond. Hidden from view, they stripped off their clothes and bathing suits and laid them on the rocks. Bridget and Giorghios were strong swimmers and they headed out to race, while Clara and Hashem decided to stay within reach of the bathing suits. Clara swam breast-stroke and Hashem followed.
‘Clara,’ he called. ‘Clara, your sex is like a sea anemone. I can see it open and close as you swim.’
Clara turned her head. ‘Anthopleura xanthogrammica or Cereus pedunculatus?’
‘From the outside I can’t tell, but I am sure that inside it looks like Aiptasia mutabilis,’ he joked.
‘You mean my cunt is blue at the moment?’
‘No, I mean that it is tentacular and its symbionts provide lipids and sugars. Just up your street!’
-Son of a bitch! Why don’t you just say I love eating too much?’ Clara shouted indignantly. Indeed, she loved sugars and lipids: one of the pleasures of being on the island was the marzipan filled horns of pastry and the dense white Greek cheese.
‘No, it makes me want to fuck you.’ he replied.
Clara turned around and looked at him. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yes. Look it has made me hard!’
Hashem turned onto his back and she could see his erection poking out of the water. She swam towards him. Hashem pulled her closer and up, as she wrapped her legs around his midriff. He placed her onto his penis, while she helped ease his way in. Hashem had a long thin member that tickled the edge of her cervix each time he pushed into her. It excited him to feel the resistance even though he could not fit his whole length in. Irrelevantly, Clara thought Bridget must have a long vagina to get so much pleasure from Hashem. The waves washed over them and she rode him till he gasped with pleasure. She could feel his testicles against her anus, the hairs tickling her. The water washed away his come, spilling out of her as he moved away again. Bridget and Giorghios were heading back towards them; it was time for a drink.
A little later in the day, dried out and relaxed, they all agreed to go and visit the churches. The heavy wooden doors were unlocked and they filed in quietly. The wooden pews were evenly spaced out. Giorghios whispered into Clara’s ear, ‘Let’s make love and pretend we are praying. You kneel and I will kneel right behind you,..’ The thought of the transgression made them both lubricious.
‘But someone may come in…’
‘I’ll be so close to you no one will notice.’
Clara knelt at the back pew and bowed her head piously. Hashem and Bridget, suspecting some mischief, asked what she was doing.
‘Just saying a prayer. I’ll be out in a few minutes. I’ll meet you back at the village.’
‘Come on Giorghios,’ Bridget called.
‘I’ll wait for Clara.’
As the wooden doors opened and closed, he knelt down directly behind Clara, so that she could feel his erection. He fumbled under her skirt twisted her knickers so that her sex was available. He dipped in a finger, checking that she was wet and ready, then deftly inserted his swollen penis into her. She gasped as he filled her. He thrust hard and stopped, waiting for her to grip him.
‘You do the work,’ he whispered.
‘Again? You are going to have to pay twice once for this morning and once for this,’ she said, grinning.
‘I will, I will,’ Giorghios replied, intent only on experiencing the moment.
Clara tightened her pelvic muscles and relaxed, slowly speeding up as both of them shook with lust. Giorghios put a hand over Clara’s mouth to prevent her from making too much noise, while he himself tried to breathe quietly. Clara crossed her arms over her breasts and stroked her own hard and sensitive nipples through her T-shirt, gripping Giorghios’ penis in rhythm to her stroking, harder and faster. She could feel her orgasm beginning. Seeing her stimulating herself, Giorghios became even more excited and started thrusting again. Hardly moving, heads bowed, they climaxed together, his sperm ejaculating deep into her just as the door opened and the priest stepped into the church.