THE LITTLE AMERICAN
by Sage Vivant

Their laughter began slowly; muted sporadic bubbles in his aching consciousness. The pulse in his brain, still erratic from last night's ouzo, knocked against his cranium, periodically drowning them out.

They had throaty, female laughs. Were they Greek? They spoke loudly, as most Greeks did, yet he did not hear that tone that sounded accusatory by English standards. Through the thin plaster wall, the voices also purred and growled. Sometimes it seemed they whispered but how would he hear that through a wall?

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. The door of the villa next door opened and a woman called out kalimera to someone. A group of people (all women?) spilled out onto the shared veranda. The scraping of metal chairs along the rough cement made him wince.

He fumbled blindly around what he recalled was the nightstand, trying to locate his watch. After no success, he remembered it was still on his wrist. He squinted at its face, annoyed at the prolonged blur of it. Twelve fifteen. The morning was gone and he had no recollection of his return to the villa the night before.

Nothing was referred to as a "hotel" on Santorini, or at least, not in Oia, where he stayed. There were rooms, apartments and houses; all virtually the same, save for cooking spaces. At Strognopoulous, the units were a collection of apartments labeled "villas." As with all Greek accommodations, furnishings and space were modest but clean. The door of each villa was split down the middle, allowing half to be opened at a time and requiring most people to pass sideways through the portal. The doors led out to a semi-private veranda he shared with the villa next to him. Strognopoulous sat high enough to afford an expansive view of the Mediterranean, as well as the small, uninhabited islands of Palia Kameni and Nea Kameni.

He lay on his back with his legs still hanging off the side of the bed looking, he imagined, like one of those long, twisted slides that emptied into man-made rapids at an amusement park. His spinal discomfort was a welcome distraction from the bongo drums in his head. The ceiling spun whether his eyes were open or closed.

Their talking broke his inert concentration, yet he understood nothing of the human buzz that characterized their discussion. He rolled to his side, half hoping the movement would result in a landing on the floor. Instead, his face was smashed into the balled up pillow and his legs flailed like a fish tail.

He could see one of the women on the veranda. When had he opened his shuttered window? Smooth, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail between her shoulder blades. If she turned to look, would she see him as clearly? The window had a screen, which he hoped darkened her vision of the interior. He lay naked, too number to register the possibility of being seen.

Only her shoulders and head were visible to him. The subtle bronze highlights in her hair shone in the brilliant sunlight. She wore sunglasses and listened more than her companions. She occasionally raised a glass of dark liquid to her lips. The intensity of the sun on her skin and hair made him realize it was another unbearably hot day on the island.

He gratefully allowed the women to distract him from his head, which now felt as divided as his door. The woman he could see moved toward her friends, disappearing from the frame of his small window. There was much laughter and the sounds of struggle. He began to doze, comatose-style.

In minutes, a knock at his door jarred him. A giggle accompanied the second knock and a foreign feminine voice ventured "hello?"

If it had been a male voice, if he hadn't seen the fine features, the smooth, nearly black, lustrous hair, if he wasn't curious, even in post-inebriation, to see the rest of her, he would've ignored the knock. He would have chosen the spinning room over being neighborly in virtually every circumstance.

Except this one.

With torpid speed, he stumbled toward the door, landing before it thanks to lucky projectory.

The cumbersome lock caused him some difficulty but he reasoned the noise would assure her of his impending response. He flung the half door open in victory, realizing simultaneously that his dick had not seen so much sunlight in years.

Smiling, she gasped both at his own realization and the site of his unprotected genitalia. Suddenly more embarrassed than neighborly, he closed the door in her face. She laughed aloud and called something in Greek to her friends, who squealed with delight.

Not that it mattered, but he imagined a variety of observations she might have conveyed to her friends:

"What a pathetic little man!"

"He must be crazy - he answered the door naked!"

"Oh, great! Hundreds of doors and we get the flasher!"

None of these observations was how he preferred to be remembered by a beautiful woman.

The pounding in his head did not diminish even slightly but he could ignore it now in the face of reparation to his reputation. He found his pants in the wrinkled heap near the dresser, grabbed them and practically jumped into them. He bounded out of his villa into the blinding sunlight, yanking up his zipper.

He stood briefly at his end of the patio, frozen by the four stunned expressions. The one who'd knocked was grinning. All of them waited to see what he might do next.

A slim patch of various succulents separated the two verandas. His momentary paralysis helped him notice this obstacle and he walked around it.

Establishing credibility under the circumstances was imperative but futile. He'd best settle for rendering competent assistance.

"Hi. I mean, Kalimera."

"Kalimera. Good morning. I am sorry to wake you," the beauty replied slyly behind her sunglasses, not moving from her seat at the small table. She wore only a big, white, lacy overshirt. With a little stealthy dedication, he could probably make out nipples and public hair through it. But it was the long, shapely curves of her crossed thighs that jump-started his already beleaguered pulse. She was in her mid-thirties, soft but firm. Her tanned, curvaceous flesh riveted him and he tried not to stare, which was easily in the blinding sunlight.

The other three women stood near the table, with one holding a large canvas umbrella. One of them said something in Greek to the beauty, giggling under her breath. The beauty chuckled in assent and removed her sunglasses to reveal dark, exotic eyes.

"It's all right. It's time to get up, anyway," he said dismissively. Best not to mention the unsolicited birthday suit. "Did you need some help, ladies?"

"Neh, efharisto. Thank you, but I do not like to disturb you. I think you were out very late?" Her eyes ran up and down his body, and he grinned.

"Don't worry about that. I'd like to help if I can," he spoke slowly for her benefit but was grateful for the excuse to think slowly.

The three women hoisted the umbrella and aimed the bottom at the small hole in the center of the iron table. The beauty held the table as they repeatedly missed their target. The bottle of Canaves wine wobbled slightly with the movement. All of them ignored him entirely.

The strong sun beat into his skull, causing both pain and clarity. He could not continue to stand there so effetely. With a confidence he didn't feel, he stepped toward them purposefully.

"I can help you with that," he said, grasping the umbrella and pushing into their sphere of cooperation. As he gradually wrested the apparatus away from them, he felt them surrender to his returning masculinity. He lifted the umbrella with both hands, filling his lungs with fresh Mediterranean sea air. Having failed to button his trousers, the zipper lost its tenuous anchor and opened with his exhalation. The beauty's hands grabbed the fabric just below his ass and tugged playfully as the umbrella slid into its slot in the table.

He stood immobile with surprise. He also stood undeniably naked.

The women erupted with laughter, including the beauty, who remained in her chair, delightedly smug about his predicament. One of the women, near forty and especially busty, pointed to his penis and exclaimed something he didn't understand. More laughter ensued.

He was not a large man. He'd never sauntered proudly through a locker room, bought a Speedo or found condoms too small. He knew there were men who, when flaccid, matched his size erect.

These were facts known to him for many years. But he loved women too much to allow an accident of birth to preclude his access to them. He'd made it his business to prove that size didn't matter.

That resolve, however, had never undergone this kind of test before. Being tittered at by four confident Mediterranean lovelies in broad daylight was unnervingly Fellinian. He stood frozen, the center of their attention and stares, his mind a circuitous track of useless thoughts.

"They laugh because you are small," the beauty explained, stroking the fleshy curve of thigh crossed over her knee. "Maria says you look like her boy who has ten years." The beauty said as if she dared him to grow before her eyes.

The presence of mind to retrieve his pants from the ground finally came to him. As he bent down, the beauty slid forward in her chair. From his stooped position, he watched her diaphanous shirt bunch into folds behind her bare ass as her meaty thighs moved toward his face. He forgot about his pants.

She shifted her hips to expose one luscious, tanned flank. Several dark pubic hairs strayed from the arc underlining the smooth slope of thigh. His face hovered only inches from her full, waiting ass.

The women were silent. The beauty's ass loomed so near his head, he could breathe in her subtle musk. He ran his eyes along her fleshy fullness and felt his face move closer, closer to that sweet spot hidden in the black line between her thighs.

He let his nose follow that line slowly from the curve of her flank to where it melded into voluptuous ass flesh. He licked at the little hairs that had tempted him, advancing deeper between her crack, burrowing to find her juicy center.

Even her labia was abundant. As his tongue gingerly touched her thick lips, she moaned softly. He dropped to his knees at the sound.

She leaned to her right to better position her lovely ass into his hungry face, which he buried as deeply as he could between her round cheeks. His nose sunk into her plush, moist labia as he sought to taste her creaminess.

He slid his left hand along the underside of her smooth thighs while his tongue lapped away at her wet little flower. With his right hand, he lifted her uppermost cheek, wanting desperately to get as deeply inside her musky recesses as he could.

One of the women said something to the beauty who replied with distracted dismissal. He didn't care what they'd said as long as her luscious ass didn't move away from him. He darted his tongue in and out of the tip of her pussy; the angle did not allow full penetration. She squirmed with pleasure and emitted deep but tiny whimpers in response. He adored putting strong women into such helpless euphoria.

Fingers were suddenly running the length of his own ass cleavage. It was definitely a woman's touch; long, slow, soft caresses. But soon there were many fingers and more than two hands lavishing attention on his exposed rump. He felt his already hard cock tighten to an almost unbearably solid state. He sucked intently on the slippery pussy lips that smeared his nose and chin.

But the hands seemed to multiply. One grabbed his cock, another stroked his tight sac. A dainty finger rimmed his asshole, which he encouraged by spreading his legs and sticking his ass up in the air. The more they played, the more eagerly he feasted at the beauty's dripping snatch.

These Greek women continually confounded him, he mused amidst the probing tongues and digits. First, they giggle at him and now they fondle him.

A pair of strong but feminine hands grabbed his hips, digging long, tapered nails into his skin. The hands gently but purposefully pulled him away from the beauty's succulent honey pot. He flowed with that motion, sensing the start of new pleasures.

The hands were assisted by another pair placed under his arms. They tugged until he was off his knees and squatting. They continued until he sat firmly on a folded blanket someone had thoughtfully placed on the rough cement.

The beauty rose from her chair and turned to face him. Her near-orgasmic daze was still evident but her natural composure quickly took hold as she looked down at him. She extended her hand in a gesture meant to help him up. He grasped it and got to his feet with her help.

"Please. Sit," she motioned to the chair she'd vacated.

He wanted to ask questions. Why were she and her friends playing with him? Why had they laughed at his size? Why did she offer her sweet, shapely ass to him? What was next? But he spoke no Greek and even the beauty's English was insufficient for conversation.

Four women stood before him, including the beauty, in various stages of undress. One, who looked to be in her mid-twenties, was completely naked and watched him with the haughtiness bred from confident sexuality. Her skin was smooth and very dark, with no tan lines whatsoever. Her breasts were neither small nor big. He noted that they were, in fact, perfect with their dark, pert nipples. As he admired them, she responded by grabbing one in each hand, as if reading his mind. She squeezed and kneaded, just like he wanted to do.

The next woman, probably close to 40, stood transfixed by his erect cock. Her zaftig presence felt motherly but richly erotic. She wore only a sarong tied loosely around her hips, emphasizing the contrast between her waist and her hips. But nothing could overshadow her impressive breasts. She stared at his rock-hard member as if it were a child's scraped knee. Seconds later, she caught his eye, penetrating him with rapacious intent. Her enormous tits gave credence to his initial reaction to her as motherly. Surely, hungry hordes could suckle at those mammaries and find sustenance! She lifted one huge melon to her mouth and sucked at the hard pink nipple.

The third woman, wearing only a bikini top, turned away from him and bent over, swinging her long, loose sunstreaked hair forward. She displayed an ass of superb proportions. She spread her legs so he could see her deep pink pussy lips. Some dark pubic hair obscured the sight, but it was clear that her cunt was engorged and glistening with arousal. She reached between her legs and frigged her own clit, wiggling her big, luscious ass in syncopation.

He looked to the beauty for an explanation of this performance. She smiled with half her full mouth and stepped closer to him, stopping by the side of his chair.

"They try to help you. To make you big." She took his rod in her right hand and slowly massaged. She remained clothed but as she coyly stared at him, the memory of her taste returned to his tongue.

He watched the scene before him, reeling with conflicting responses. He definitely wanted to fuck each and every one of them, partially to prove he could. But their maternally inspired intentions touched him and his curiosity took over. How far would they go to make him grow? And how big was "big" to them anyway?

He refrained from informing her that the five inches of tumescent manhood she held was maximum size. Better to wait and see what she planned to do with it.

The perfect-titted young woman spoke to the beauty and he caught the word Americano. The beauty did not answer. Instead, she continued the slow, sensual hand-job and whispered to him.

"She says all things in America are very big. She does not believe you are American."

"Well, you can tell I'm American from my accent, can't you? Anyway, how big do you think I should be?"

He knew he sounded manic and that she wouldn't reply. The beauty straddled his lap. Little pink portions of her exposed sex poked out from her thick bush, which he instinctively reached out to stroke. He located her firm, slippery clit just as she slid her hot cunt over his now throbbing dick.

She still wore her lacy overshirt but he could see her full titties bounce as she rode him. His fingers worked wildly at her clit, spreading juice all over his palm. With his free hand, he grabbed a handful of tit flesh and squeezed.

He lifted his hips to ram her with the same intensity she used to fuck herself with his love stick.

"Neh, neh!" she called out as he jammed himself into her. She threw her head back and held onto his shoulders, continuing to slide him in and out of her hot, wet hole. In and out, faster and faster, she slammed down onto him until she cried out, again with sounds and words unfamiliar to him.

Holding back his own eruption was excruciating, but he had to show these women he could please them. And he would fuck all of them if it were the last thing he did.

The beauty whimpered and collapsed, burying her head in his chest. He caressed her damp back through her shirt.

"Let me fuck your friends now," he whispered.

She grinned knowingly and dismounted. (He'd always found that "fuck" was a word internationally understood.) The three women, still playing with themselves, devoured him with their eyes.

He rose and staggered to the woman whose ass was spread so provocatively for him to sample. He grabbed both ass cheeks and leaned into her, sliding his cock along her creamy pussy lips. She moaned and wiggled, now frigging herself without any trace of inhibition.

He stuffed himself into her quickly and began to pump her hard. The other two women moved to stand on either side of him, both of them within arms reach.

As he fucked the gorgeous ass, he reached for the pussy of the young woman while she continued to play with own tits. The zaftig woman offered one of her monster melons to him. His mouth was drawn to her waiting nipple as if he needed her nourishment. She pushed her huge tit into his face as he suckled her.

The beauty stood in front of the faceless ass woman, holding her steady as he fucked her, sucked an enormous tit and fingered a slippery snatch.

The young woman burst into a powerful orgasm, her clit twitching in his hand. Zaftig, who'd been beating her own meat as he sucked her tit, began to wail as her body shook in its surrender to pleasure.

His resolve gave way to the imminent explosion now brewing in his balls. The pussy he fucked suddenly gripped him urgently, spasming around his cock. The woman squealed and pushed her ass into him recklessly. He pumped back with the same abandon.

His cum shot into her at warp speed. He couldn't stop fucking her! He pumped and pumped; she yelled louder. Her cheeks shook with every thrust. Finally, his dick twitched with unmistakable surrender and he knew he'd given his very last drop of jizz to this gorgeous ass.

The woman dropped to her knees and fell into the beauty's arms. He wobbled backwards into the chair.

His head spun with sublime exhaustion as he watched the beauty cuddle the woman he'd just reamed. The beauty's eyes penetrated past his psyche and into his soul. As she caressed the satisfied woman, he felt he caressed them both. Through her grounded but surreal presence, he touched both women, snuggling, nuzzling, and purring into them.

The young woman announced something in Greek after consulting her watch. The zaftig one stepped toward him, heavy breasts swinging freely. She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled at him as if he'd just won the spelling bee. Then, she bent down to kiss his cock.

"Bravo, Americano!" She whispered and floated away into the villa. The young woman grinned, winked and followed her. Beauty helped the woman to her feet.

Both of them appraised him fondly but the woman with his cum inside her suddenly blushed and scampered into the villa.

The beauty approached, picking up his pants as she passed them. At his chair, she deposited the garment into his lap, grasped the arms of the chair and leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

"You are a special man," she cooed with that devastating half-smile. She ran the tips of her fingers along his cheek.

"Husbands are coming," she added.

He held her hand against his face and kissed those incredible lips, savoring their fullness in his memory before he returned to his own villa.

Copyright 1998. Sage Vivant/Custom Erotica Source. All rights reserved.

 

 

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