Kavos (Chapter 1)

Paul shook his head. "Naaah... that's the best part of it. They weren't playing at being couples. It was just trade-off between them. Kind of like, 'You can fuck me if I can fuck you'. Nothin' emotional in it."

I asked, "What do you mean, 'the best part of it'?"

Paul went a little red. "I dunno... I guess I just meant that if two straight guys had sex together it would be purely sexual - they wouldn't have to pretend that there was more to it than that, or make promises or anything..."

Willows nodded. "Yeah... you guys must see the appeal of that. Another guy wouldn't behave like most girls I've screwed. You wouldn't be thinking, 'Oh shit, what am I going to say if I see her tomorrow... what's she gonna do if she sees me with another girl...'."

I began to find the succession of bars and clubs we were passing through less and less enjoyable. I noticed a strange atmosphere in them that I guess I'd subconsciously picked up on the previous night but hadn't really been able to pinpoint. As the night went on the men around us were getting increasingly tense and aggressive. Sometimes this manifested itself in fighting and violence - and there were countless examples of that - but sometimes more subtly.

Horseplay among any group of pissed men is always a given, but what was happening here seemed a little different. Goosing was almost universal; ball-grabbing almost equally prevalent. You'd always expect a bit of that, but here in Kavos guys' hands seemed to linger on other guys' arses and crotches for longer than I'd ever noticed before.

Wherever we went, men were mock-fighting or shouting facetious insults each other. Again, it hadn't struck me as odd on the first night, but now I took more notice. So many times a guy would jump on his mate's back and hump his arse through their jeans and shorts. Or, in a scuffle between two lads which I would have ignored on the first night, I now saw that they were trying to push each other's faces down into their crotches.

The crowd around would laugh at these bizarre displays by laughing uproariously and shouting "Take it like a man!" and "Up his fuckin' arse!"

It really hit home when I was using the gents at the back of a bar late on the third evening, after Paul and I had unintentionally split up from Jase and Willows. The small, dimly-lit room was crowded with men and, as my cock was half-hard without me knowing why, I wanted to use a cubicle. It turned out, though, that they were all locked and, before I could turn and get out of there, I was pushed forward to the urinal. I realised that all the other men standing alongside me had full erections or were, like me, at half-mast. Some were making jokes about morning woodies or how difficult it was to piss through a stiffie.

One guy, at the far end to me, was making jabbing thrusts into the air with a full-on cock that looked as thick as his wrist, saying stuff about needing a pussy in front of him.

The atmosphere was thick and sexual, heavy and cloying with the urgency of male arousal. The overwhelming smell of piss, coupled with sweat and alcohol, seemed to intensify it. By the time I'd finished pissing my cock was fully hard and the yellow stream from the tip of it gave way to a gentle ooze of precum which hung in a wavering string from it.

I looked at the other guys' cocks and found them in similar, throbbing states. Everyone looked at each other; each man comparing his size with those of his differently-proportioned neighbours.

The guy on the right of me was wearing an Arsenal football shirt and had a cock about three inches longer than mine. It hung outwards from his white shorts with a downward curve as if it was too fat and too heavy to stand fully upright on its own.

He grinned at me and said, "What I'd give for a blow job."

The guy to my left replied, "What would you give?"

I turned toward him. He was shorter than me but looked as rough as a pitbull. His dark brown hair was cut short against his scalp and his eyes peered at the Arsenal fan's cock as if with malevolent suspicion. Tattoos were scrawled across him.

The Arsenal fan laughed. "Oh I dunno. Maybe a blowjob in return..."

The sentence hung in the air between them, somewhere between a question and a statement.

Pitbull leered. He wanked his cock gently. It was short, maybe five inches long, and as thin as a marker pen. But in his dirty, tattooed hand it had an air of menace.

The cubicle door behind us swung open and three men came out.

Another guy tried to get in but Pitbull, with his cock still poking stiffly out of his jeans, got in the way and pushed him aside. He disappeared into it and Arsenal fan followed him.

Before they could close the door, two other men pushed their way in. They said something and Pitbull asked if they had 'johnnies'.

I pushed my cock away and went to leave the toilets.

As I walked past the open cubicle, I saw the four of them standing around in a circle, their stiff cocks poking out from their jeans and shorts. Like their cocks were sizing each other up through their single slit-eyes.

As they agreed on their terms and the door began to close, a guy came up behind me and rubbed his erection into my arse.

I turned to him, becoming apprehensive, and he smiled. "You wanna fuck?" He sounded Scottish and seemed about eighteen.

I just stared at him and he laughed, "A fuck for a fuck, a suck for a suck."

I shook my head. "No... no... sorry..." And left the toilets.

When I got back to Paul I told him about what had happened.

He wanted to know exactly where the toilets were. He'd been to some different toilets in the same club - marked as female, but since there were so few here they were used by everyone - but hadn't found the ones I'd been in.

About five minutes later he disappeared and I couldn't find him for over half an hour. I suspected he'd gone to pay a visit to the gents to see what was going on for himself, but didn't want to return to them to find out.

On the way back to our room that night he asked, "What do you think it would feel like to have a guy suck your dick, Daz?"

I went quiet for a minute and then replied, "Look Paul, I don't want to know. Okay?"

He nodded.

When we got back he didn't masturbate. This time, the strong smell of his cum hit me as he pulled off his trousers. The front of his boxers were still damp.

I said, mildly, "Looks like you came in your pants."

He grinned. "Naah. It's some guy's spit."

I didn't laugh and so he laughed for me. "Just fuckin' jokin', Daz! No need to get so fuckin' hung up!"

I turned off the light.

*****

The next day, while we were having breakfast with Jase and Willows in one of the tavernas, Paul urged me to recount our experiences. "Go on, Daz. Tell them about the toilet in that bar... tell them..."

I waved him off. "No - you tell them. You were in there longer than I was..."

"I didn't go anywhere near it!" It was obvious he was lying, he was so bad at doing it. He even blushed a little.

I shrugged. "Guys were trading blow jobs and stuff. Maybe more, I dunno."

Willows laughed. "That's nothing compared to what we saw..." He looked at Jase, "Should I tell him?"

Jase shrugged. "I dunno..."

Paul was eager to hear full details so Jase continued.

"We were trying to find you two and walked down towards Madisons. Halfway there, in that big car park near the beach, some guys were fighting. We just avoided them but then the crowd around them started shouting, "Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him," and stuff like that." He looked at Jase. "You saw it first, didn't you...?"

"Yeah," Jase nodded. "I thought they were like wrestlin' or somethin'."

"One of the guys had got the other on the ground," Willows continued. "But instead of laying into him, like you'd expect, he yanked the back of the guy's shorts down and pulled out his own cock to slap the guy's arse with it."

Paul almost fell off his chair. "Then what happened?"

Jase laughed. "What do you think?"

Paul was agog. "What? He got fucked? Right there in the car park?"

Willows looked ecstatic. "Yeah! Right up his shitter!"

Paul looked at me, his eyes wide and mouth grinning. "Jesus!"

I said, flatly, "So you guys think it's really funny that a guy was raped?"

Willows waved his hand dismissively. "He was fuckin' lovin' it. He was laughin' while he was being screwed, sayin', 'You owe me big time for this, Macca, you owe me a shag with your bird when we get back home...'."

"I thought you said they were fighting."

"They were only messin'. You know how guys are when they're pissed."

Jase finished, "And horny."

The three of them chuckled.

I said to Jase, "I thought you said you found that kind of stuff disgusting?"

He shrugged. "It didn't look that bad. Not as bad as I thought it would. Different to what I'm used to, I guess, but not disgusting."

Willows laughed, "We're discovering a new dimension to our friendship..."

Jase grinned and mock-punched him. "Fuck off! I'm not saying I wanna try it, I'm just saying it didn't creep me out like I thought it would."

Paul nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought the other night when we saw those guys in the alley."