It was a surprisingly warm day for October as the tour bus laboured its way up the winding mountain road toward Delphi, one of the holiest places in Greek mythology.

It was not labouring under a load, for there were only 14 of us aboard, including the driver and the lady guide. The other 12 of us were a mishmash of tourists taking advantage of the off-season and the already-dirt-cheap fares of Viking Tours, which supposedly only catered to students. In fact, none of us on the bus were students, just young travellers looking for the best deals we could get.

And this was one of those deals. Back then in 1970 it was costing me just under $30 for a five night, six day guided tour of the archaeological sites of southern part of the Greek peninsula, including transport, accommodation with breakfast, and the guide. As I was on a very limited budget, this suited me right down to the ground.

Our guide, who called herself Madam Ireni, and who insisted we did too, actually looked like my image of the madam of a cheap whorehouse. She was short, fat and blowzy, and overly made up, and reeked of cheap perfume - or maybe it was expensive perfume. I wouldn't know the difference, but I did know she reeked of it. She wore a rather rakish hat, and for some reason a boa at all times. But apart from her tendency to hustle us along to keep to the timetable, she was a very sweet , motherly lady.

She had started our tour by whisking us south from Athens where we had joined the bus, to Cape Sounion and the Temple of Poseidon. Even as ruins, it is a stunning site, but even before we got that far that morning my eyesight had become blurred - or rather, I had developed tunnel vision and could only focus on one thing! That one thing was Paul.

Paul Hanson was the epitome of the American all-round college boy. In fact, I found out later he had just graduated with a degree in Dentistry. I first saw him in Athens, as we were loading our backpacks into the bus's storage area. I saw him and fell in love with his youthful, clean-cut looks, his lovely butt which was shown off to its best as he bent to pass bags into the storage area, and his brilliant smile as he met my eyes and took my backpack from me and stowed it away.

I wanted him right then and there. I took the initiative there on that Athens street. I stuck out my hand and said,

"Hi, I guess we're travelling together. I'm Terry. From Canada."

He took my hand and looked me right in the eye. Did I feel some subtle communication, some bond? Yes, I'm sure I did.

"Hi, I'm Paul," he told me. "Paul Hanson. From Minnesota. Yes, we'll be travelling companions for the next six days. I look forward to it."

I was in love immediately!

Then Paul stepped aside and motioned forward the young woman beside him.

"And this is Mary, my wife," he told me. "We're the Hansons. We're on our honeymoon. Hon, meet Terry. From Canada."

My heart sank.

What a couple. As much as Paul was stunningly good-looking, Mary was astoundingly plain. I have never understood how the plain-Janes manage to hook the best-looking guys, but they do. And this was no exception.

"Hello, Terry from Canada," she greeted me with a big, sincere smile. "I'm sure we'll get along just great on this trip. We need someone our own age to talk to, apart from each other. You fit the bill just nicely."

Grrrr! She might have been plain, but she was a sweet girl, and that just made it worse; she had Paul, and I didn't.

We boarded the bus, and Paul and Mary insisted I sit across from them so we could talk and get to know each other.

After a big welcome aboard by Madame Ireni, and an introduction to our bus-driver Georgio, we set out on our voyage of discovery, heading, as I have already said, south to Cape Sounion.

As we headed south out of Athens, Madam Ireni had us all introduce ourselves to out fellow travellers. Paul and Mary were the only married couple, but there were four other pairs on the bus. Dave and Curly, from Australia, were two best buddies on their way to England. Peter and Dennis, from England, were two best buddies on their way to Australia. Laura and Wendy were also Australians, as were Jane and Paula. Donna - a plump girl from New York - and I were the only two persons travelling alone.

I sat in a double seat across from Paul and Mary and chatted with them as we watched the Greek countryside slip by us after we had left Athens behind.

They told me they had known each other all their lives, although Mary's parents were very well-off, while Paul's were working-class people. Paul and Mary had gone first to the same elementary school, and then to the same high-school when she had stubbornly refused to go to the private school her parents had s chosen for her.

Much to her parent's horror, Mary had actually moved in with Paul and gone to work as a salesperson in a department store to help him through college. She had slaved away for seven years while Paul studied, supplying what income he could with a fairly large scholarship he had won, by working nights at a Minneapolis Scandinavian restaurant, and by working in mining camps in the summer.

At the end of it all, Paul had proposed, Mary's parents were appeased, and they had a society wedding. On their return from this trip, Mary's father was buying Paul in to a flourishing dental practise in a smaller town not far from the Twin Cities. But for now they were seeing Europe in a non-society way — back-packing and staying in hostels.

Paul, Mary, and I really hit it off that first morning. By the time we reached Cape Sounion we were best friends. As we explored the Temple of Poseidon overlooking the Mediterranean together, Paul, climbing around the ruins, seemed to me like a true Greek god exploring his temple. As I have said, I couldn't take my eyes off him.

From Cape Sounion, we travelled north again to Marathon, where the Athenians defeated the invading Persian armies, and from where the runner set out on his 40 km run to bring the good news to Athens, giving its name to the modern athletic event.

Then on to ancient Thebes. Madam Ireni led us round the Museum of Antiquities there. It seemed as if she cast a knowing eye on me when she recounted the story of the Theban Laius, who kidnapped and raped the beautiful young man Chryssipus, and kept him as his bed partner, bringing down a punishment upon Thebes which would span generations, through his son Oedipus and beyond; and the story of Hylas, another handsome young man, who was given as a gift to Heracles, who took him as a lover. When jealous nymphs drowned Hylas, Heracles went into mourning and wandered forlorn around Greece, abandoning the quest for the golden fleece and his fellow adventurers on the Argo, on which he had Hylas had sailed.

When Madam told these stories in detail, I imagined myself as Chryssipus, being raped by Laius/Paul, who falls in love with me; and then as Hylas, happily becoming slave/lover to Heracles/Paul.

A couple of times, listening to these homoerotic tales, and envisioning my own version, I saw Paul's eyes upon me. Was he having similar thoughts? Mary, too, saw him eyeing me, and a shadow briefly darkened her usually-smiling face. Did she have doubts about Paul's sexuality?

We climbed aboard the bus once more, and Georgio steered us up the winding mountain road, snaking past small mountain villages and two monasteries.

We reached the small town of Delphi, perched on the side of the mountain, late in the afternoon. We were supposed to book into our hotel for the evening, and go site-seeing the next day, but there was some problem with the hostel where we were meant to be staying. It seemed they were double-booked and there was no room for our party. So Madam had Georgio drive us to the site of the Temple of Apollo and the Grove of the Oracle while she sought out alternate accommodations for us.

Giorgio managed to find a local who led us through the site of the ruins of the Temple of Apollo and the surrounding area, and in her limited English she explained about the famed oracle, a priestess who would breathe the fumes from a cleft in the rocks here, then pronounce prophecies in the form of riddles and rhymes. Oedipus, for example, who didn't know that he was adopted, was told that he would kill his father and marry his mother, and fled his homeland, only to come to Thebes, where, unknown to him, his birth parents ruled.

She showed us a small hole in an earth wall, which she insisted was the original source of the fumes which caused the oracle's visions. Of course, we took this as the lovely myth we knew it to be.

But it was while we were exploring this magical site, perched high on a mountain, overlooking a magnificent valley and arm of the ocean to the west, that I had an unfortunate accident.

We were clambering over some fallen rocks at the base of a stone wall-face when I heard some cracking and rumbling above. I was turning to look, when Paul, ahead of me, cried "Look out!" and tried to pull me out of danger. But he was too late.

Then I heard a voice calling me:

"Terry! Terry! Are you OK? Can you hear me? Wake up, Terry!"

I did as I was told, and opened my eyes. Paul was bending over me, trying to wake me. Beyond him I could vaguely see Mary and others from our party.

"I'm OK, I think," I told him as he helped me to my feet.

"Wow," he said, "I thought you were a goner." He explained what had happened.

"A loose rock bounced down the cliff," he told me. "It sideswiped the back of your head as it bounced past us. I guess it just knocked you out, but I thought it had killed you."

I put my hand to the back of my head. It came away bloody, but it was only a small lesion.

"I'm OK," I assured him, but I could still see those words, burned into my brain: ζητησει σοι

I should have known what the words said, from my classes in Beginners' Greek 101 at University, but that was years ago, and I had not kept up my studies.

When we walked back to the bus, Madam Ireni was already there, waiting for us. She had found another hotel for us, normally way out of our league, but because it was off-season, and because the hotel and was undergoing a face-lift and most of its rooms were still being renovated, she had got it for the same rates as the hostel.

There was only one problem with this however: they only had six rooms available, each with just one double bed. Madam and Giorgio would stay with some of her relatives in the village, but did we at the hotel mind sleeping two to a bed? No one minded. This led to another minor problem. Madam thought it would not be right for me and Donna, the other lone traveller, to sleep together, so would Mary mind bunking with Donna, and would Paul mind sharing a bed with me? Just for the one night? There were no objections.

Especially on my part! Wow! To get to sleep with Paul! Was this the meaning of those Greek words "ζητησει σοι" ? I would ask Madam Ireni what they meant.

Giorgio drove us the short ride to the hotel to book in. And what a hotel it was! Although there were all sorts of construction going on, what was left showed that it was a very classy hotel. And what was really odd was that you entered at street level from the village, and then went down to your rooms. No, they were not underground. They were high in the sky, but the whole hotel, like several others along this street, was built right into the side of the cliff, and the rooms clung to the cliff face, suspended over the valley hundreds of feet below.

We checked in, and were allotted our rooms. All of them were outer rooms, each with a small balcony hung out over the valley.

Paul and I found our room. It was right next to the room where Mary and Donna would share, so the newly-weds would not be too far apart.

As we dumped our backpacks in our room, Paul and I made the usual sort of jokes guys do when forced to share a bed:

"I hope you don't snore!"

"I hope you don't sleep naked!" (I usually did sleep naked, but I would wear underpants tonight.)

Then we checked out the view from the balcony.

The valley dropped away immediately below us. Across to the south were the mountains of the other side of this valley, and away to the west, the Gulf of Itea poking up from the Gulf of Corinth. To say it was breathtaking was not enough. Paul summed it up nicely.

"The gods still live here," he said. "This place is magical."

I hoped he was right: "ζητησει σοι" I knew the words were magical.

I got my chance to find out what they meant at dinner that night.

After we had cleaned up, and I had rinsed the congealed blood from my scalp and hair, we all gathered in the lobby at street level, where Madam Ireni met us to lead us to a small Greek restaurant in the village where she could vouch for the food. It didn't open until eight, so that gave us time for a bit of a stroll around the village before arriving at the restaurant.

We were seated at two trestle tables, and I sat beside Madam, across from Paul and Mary. After a meal of roast lamb, steamed potatoes, and salad, I asked Madam Ireni,

"What does 'zetesei soi' mean?" I asked, pronouncing the phrase as I had been taught in Ancient Greek 101 in University.

"I don't understand," she said. "What do you mean?"

"I know it's Greek," I said, "but perhaps I am pronouncing it wrong."

"Can you write it down?" she suggested, and offered me her pen.

There were paper napkins on the table, and I wrote down the words as I had seen them.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "This is not modern Greek. It is the Greek of classical times, the Greek of the myths and the histories. Where did you see this?"

"I don't remember," I lied. "What does it say?"

"He will seek you." she told me. "It says 'He will seek you!'"

He will seek you. Did that mean Paul? I certainly hoped so. Perhaps I would find out that night.

After supper, several of the group, including Paul and Mary and I wandered around the quaint streets of the little town, drinking in the sights and smells of the place. Everywhere we went in the gathering dark there were the smells of cooking, mostly of garlic, and basil, and rosemary and roasting meats. Even though we had eaten, these aromas on the night air whetted our taste buds.

Eventually, we arrived back at the hotel, and Paul and I went to our room. I went out onto the balcony to have a look at the view by night. Thin veils of smoke and mist drifted across the valley, far below us, at times obscuring the lights from towns and villages in the valley's shadows. To the west, the gulf still sparkled in the last of the light.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?"

Paul had come up behind me, almost touching me, his mouth close to my ear. I could feel his soft breath on my neck as he spoke. The balcony was narrow, and I suppose that gave him reason to move even closer. His whole body was brushing my back. He pressed even closer.

"Yes, it's wonderful," I sighed, but I wasn't talking about the view. If only he would put his arms around me.

Then I felt more pressure. His crotch was pressed against my buttocks. Was that a hard-on I felt through the cloth of our jeans? I'm sure it was. I pushed back against him.

But the spell was broken by a call from the next balcony.

"Hey, honey," called Mary, standing on the adjoining balcony. "I'm off to bed now. Blow me a goodnight kiss."

Paul hastily pulled away from me, and he moved onto the balcony beside me, closer to Mary. They could not touch across the void, maybe six feet apart, but Paul did as he was told and blew her a night-time kiss. Satisfied she went back into her room, and Paul went into ours, leaving me completely unsatisfied. The magic spell of that moment was broken.

I watched the valley view for a while then went back into the room. Paul was.already in bed, sitting up, his bare torso showing above the light eiderdown bedding. He had turned on the TV set in the room, but it only got two channels, one of which was showing some sort of documentary in Greek, and the other carried Bonanza in English, with Greek subtitles, but it was a very old episode, and both of us had seen it more than once before.

I undressed down to my underwear, with Paul watching. As I was about to get into bed with him, Paul said,

"What I said before about sleeping naked - I was just joking. I sleep naked. You can too if you like."

Was he trying to tell me something? Was this an invitation? Whatever his reasons, I took him at his word, dropped my undies and discarded them on the floor and climbed naked into bed with him.

"ζητησει σοι"

"He will seek you."

But would he? Would he make a move?

After a few minutes of sitting there watching Hoss and Little Joe (who packed an amazing large basket), Paul said,

"Are you watching this?

"No," I assured him. He used the remote to turn the TV off.

"Is it OK if I turn off the lights?" he asked. "I'm ready for sleep." The room lamp was on his side of the bed.

"Go ahead," I assured him. "I'm pretty beat myself."

We lay there, back to back, just a little apart. I had a hard-on under the covers. I wondered if he did, too. Did he want me to make a move? But what if I did and I was wrong about him? We had to live together for 4 more days. I lay there in the dark, fondling my stiff cock gently, hoping for some sign from Paul. But none was forthcoming.

Eventually, his deep, regular breathing told me he was sound asleep. I had grabbed a Kleenex before I hopped into bed, and now I carefully pumped my cock slowly until I reached boiling point and shot my load into the Kleenex, which I dropped onto the floor.

I. too, dozed off to sleep.

When I woke next morning, Paul was already up and partly dressed, and out on the balcony talking to Mary on the next balcony. I pulled on my undies and pants, picked up the Kleenex and flushed it down the toilet while I took a morning leak then joined him on the balcony.

"I've already been up to the lobby," Mary was saying. "The hotel provides a continental breakfast in the lounge off the lobby. Madam Ireni wants us all to eat and be outside for the bus in an hour. So get a move on, you two."

We did as she ordered and an hour later, having eaten a more-than-sufficient breakfast were aboard the bus and on our way.

We travelled west that morning, mostly along the coast of the Gulf of Corinth, stopping for lunch at Naupaktus, and eventually taking a small, flat-bottomed car ferry across the gulf to the Peloponnese Isthmus. Today a modern road bridge has replaced the ferry.

We spent our second night on the road at Patras, but here there were no shortage of rooms, so I spent it sharing a small, bare room with three single beds with the Aussies Dave and Curly in the local Youth Hostel. It wasn't nearly as sexy as sleeping naked with Paul, and on top of that Dave and Curly were roaring drunk, having downed quite a few bottles of Fix Hellas beer. I had to hush them down regularly to keep us from being kicked out of the hostel. There was a strict no-alcohol policy which would have applied, even though they had consumed it in a nearby bar.

Next morning it was on to Olympia, site of the original Olympic games. It was an almost garden setting compared to most of the ruins we had seen so far. The Olympic track was reached through a triumphal arch and the six guys on the bus even tried ourselves in a footrace on that same track where footraces had first been run over 2000 years before. Paul was the clear winner. Dennis, one of the Brits came in second, and I placed third. The two Aussies came in last, both hung-over from their bar bout the previous night.

After the archaeological site, we went into the modern village of Olympia, where we were to spend the afternoon and night. It was there that I got lucky on the trip. No, it was not with Paul!

The bus stopped at a souvenir warehouse in Olympia, probably because the owner, whose name was Nikos was the nephew of Giorgio. Nikos was probably in his early forties, a huge, powerfully-built, good-looking man, who took an immediate liking for me, especially when he found out that I was Australian-born. I had commented on some photographs on the wall of his store, showing him in Australia, and mentioned that I was born there. Why he didn't prefer Dave and Curly with their broad accents, I don't know.

Nikos was very proud of the fact that he had carried the Olympic flag for Greece in Australia in the relay to the Melbourne Games and had also participated as a wrestler in the Melbourne games. After the games he had stayed in Australia for a few more years, then returned to his home village of Olympia and gone into the souvenir business, very successfully. He still had a trace of the Aussie accent he had picked up while living there.

Because of his liking for me, he gave me, and my friends, very good rates on silver jewellery that afternoon. Among other things, we all bought silver monkey-puzzle rings - the five interlocking rings which can be manipulated into one ring. Just my luck, however, mine turned my finger green within a few days, the only one which turned out to be silver-plated brass.

That night, Nikos turned up at the small hostel where we had told him we were staying. It was a much nicer place than the state hostels, and had an attractive sitting room downstairs. Nikos arrived with three of his friends in tow, one of whom had brought his bouzouki, a sort of lute, which he played for our group while his buddies sang for us and did Greek dances. Nikos pulled me up to dance with him, but I was too clumsy. However, for the rest of the evening, he continued to flirt with me. I know Paul noticed this and didn't looked pleased. Was he jealous?

At the end of the musical evening, Nikos invited me to go for a walk with him. I accepted. His three friends left at the same time we did. They started to follow Nikos and me, but he spoke sharply to them in Greek, and they laughed and whistled and made joking comments that I knew were bawdy and concerned me. I didn't care, and went along with Nikos gladly. No sooner had we got away from the hostel, he asked me,

"You will come to my house? We will fuck?"

Even though I knew he had the hots for me, this was a bit sudden. I tried to make an excuse.

"The hostel. It will be locking the doors soon."

"No matter, you will stay the night with me?"

"But the bus. It leaves first thing in the morning!"

"Don't worry. I will have you back here as soon as the doors open. Before anyone even comes down for breakfast."

He put his massive arm across my shoulders and led me away from the hostel. I went gladly with him, just as Hylas must have done with Heracles. He led me to his small house only a couple of streets away and ushered me inside, straight to his bedroom.

"My mother lives with me," he informed me, "but she is completely deaf, and she is sound asleep by now."

In the room lit by one dim bulb, he stripped himself naked. He was an impressive man with an impressive cock. His chiseled features framed by his dark, close-cropped, immaculately-trimmed hair made his appear very handsome. His face topped his barrel chest, covered with beautiful, tight curled hair, with a treasure trail leading my eyes down to his penis. He was tanned all over, including his penis.

It was not a huge penis, but as I have said, it was impressive. Like his tonsured hair, his cock seemed sculpted. It had a large mushroom knob on top of a straight, rigid shaft. I wanted it in me so bad!

I didn't have to wait long. Nikos practically tore my clothes from me, and soon had me pinned down on his bed. He knelt behind me, straddling me, and with just a little spit on his cock, spread my ass-cheeks and drove his cock straight into me.

I know I gave a great gasp of pain, but the pain was transitory. I had been fucked often enough to know the pain would soon pass, and it did. Niko lowered his whole body down upon my back, driving his cock deeper into me. I loved the feel of his hairy chest on my back, the impaling shaft of his cock in my ass, and his garlicky breath on my cheek.

"Does it feel good, my little one?"

"Oh, yes!" I agreed.

"I will fuck you hard this first time. We will do it again and again tonight. Will you like that?"

"Yes," I told him. "Yes, I would."

This big Greek god was true to his word then. He began to pound his lovely hard cock in and out of my ass, usually pulling it all the way out, then pile-driving it back in. He was pounding the very breath out of me, and my ass was on fire. But it all felt so good - so good! It was especially good a few minutes later when he began to cry in ecstasy as he reached climax, and his body shuddered and shook as he poured his load of cum into my vitals.

He was true to his word again after that. We lay side by side for a while, while he fondled my dick in the dim light, and we kissed gently, little pecks. But it did not take long for the pecks to become open-mouthed kisses, hot and hungry, as if he were trying to devour me, or explore my soul with his tongue. I responded just as hungrily.

All the while as we necked and kissed and slobbered at each other's mouths, Nikos was fondling my dick. Finally, he pushed me back against the pillows and started kissing my chin, then my neck, then my chest. He nibbled my nipples, which were hard with sexual excitement. He made his way down my abdomen, licking and kissing as he went, until he reached my penis, which he already held in one hand.

His kissed the lips of my cock with his lips, then opened his mouth and enclosed the bulb of my cock. He rasped at the underside of the tip of my knob, so sensitive there, and sent me crying with ecstasy. He ran his tongue around the knob and back again to the underside. I was almost passing out from the intense pleasure.

He sucked and licked for a few more minutes, driving me crazy, before he drove his face hard down into my crotch, taking my six inches deep down into his throat.

He began to pump his face up and down on my cock, sucking and licking all the while as he did so. Between the action and the vacuum effect, it took only a minute or two before I was ready to blast off. In no time at all my cum was squirting into his mouth and he was greedily swallowing it as fast as I ejaculated it. When I was finished, Nikos licked his lips, and said,

"Ah, the true nectar of the Gods!"

We cuddled and kissed more and chatted in between bouts of passionate sex. I'm not sure whether he fucked me three or four more times that night, but I do know the later fucks were more tender, slower, not the powerhouse of the first.

I learnt that he did not have much of a sex life here in the village, apart from one fuck-buddy he saw on irregular occasions. He wanted to go back to Melbourne, but he was stuck here in the Village until his mother's death. None of his other brothers wanted to look after her, as they all had young families of their own. When she eventually passed away, he planned to sell this house he had bought for her, and his business, and return to Melbourne, where he had a lover waiting for him.

By the time the first light of day entered the room, and after Nikos had woken me for one last fuck, my hole was very loose and dripping with several loads of Nikos' cum. He showed me to the toilet, which he was very proud of. It was one of the few flush toilets in private homes in the village. Most were hole-in-the ground type toilets at the back of the house. This is what his wealth from working as a bricklayer's labourer in Australia had done for him.

Nikos kept his word, and walked me back to the hostel to arrive right at 6:30 am, as they unlocked the front doors for the day. Breakfast was at 7:00, and I hoped to get back to the room I was supposed to have shared with the Brits, Peter and Dennis. I said a fond farewell to Nikos at the door and slipped inside and upstairs to the room without encountering anyone of our tour group. I opened the door to the room very carefully, hoping not to wake anyone.

I was too late. The two Brits were up and dressed, and turned to look at me when I entered. Peter grinned at me.

" 'ave a good night, mate?" he asked, with a big grin on his face. "Nikos seemed like a pretty nice chap."

I started to bluster some sort of an answer, but Dennis broke in:

"Don't worry, mate," he said. "Me and Peter ain't gonna say anything to anyone. We completely understand."

"Yes," Peter agreed. "Dennis and me are not just best friends," he explained. "We've been bum-buddies all our lives."

It was then that I noticed that only one bed of the three single beds in the room had been slept in. The two of them were sitting that bed, the one they had slept in, and presumably made love in. They were homosexual lovers.

"Thanks, fellers," I smiled. "Give me a chance to change my clothes and we'll go down for breakfast."

At breakfast, none of the others seemed to realize I had stayed out all night, although Paul did look at me a little quizzically, maybe wondering about Nikos and I.

But there was no change in our friendly relationship over the next three days of site-seeing around the Peloponnese: the Palace of Nestor at Pylos, the excavations at Sparta, the theatre at Epidaurus, and the ruins of Mycenae, with the impressive Lion Gate, all from 3000 years ago, the time of The Iliad and The Odyssey.

At Mycenae, I even splurged on a copy of what is said to be the death mask of Agamemnon, leader of all the Greeks who sailed to Troy, and brother of Menelaus, the husband of abducted Helen. In truth, the mask probably pre-dates the siege of Troy by 300 years, but who cares? The mask still hangs on my wall today, and I still cherish copies of the gold drinking cups of Nestor, as described in The Iliad, which I also bought while on this tour.

In the remaining nights of the tour, one night I got to share a room with the two Aussies once more, and two nights I had a room to myself. I left the door unlocked while I slept, hoping Paul might sneak in, but that was just wishful thinking.

The tour came to an end back in Athens. We all tipped Madam Ireni and Georgio as handsomely as we could afford, and said our goodbyes to our fellow travellers.

Paul, Mary, and I were not parting ways quite yet, however. We each had another night in Athens. Paul and Mary were flying out back to America first thing the next morning, and I had a reservation on a train from Athens to Munich due to leave late afternoon the same day. We decided to get rooms in the same hotel.

They knew of a cheap hotel on Onomia Square, close to transport to the airport and the main railway station, so we went there. We were lucky enough tho get adjoining rooms on the top floor, on the side away from the square, which was preferable, because Onomia Square is one of the noisiest and most diesel-polluted areas a in a very noisy and polluted city.

We ate that evening in a little cafe nearby which specialized in 'American cuisine'. The owner had spent some years in Chicago as a cook in a diner. The menu ran to hamburgers, fried chicken, pork chops, and meat loaf, but at least it was without the olive oil which permeates most Greek cooking.

After supper, we went to the friendly bar in the hotel. The waiter was most helpful. He suggested we take a our evening drinks to the Roof Garden which was closed for winter, but he would give us a key to drag out some deck chairs and cushions from the storage area. We could return the key later.

He told us the the son et lumiere display at the Acropolis was still going on nightly and we would have a great view, and although we would not be able to hear the sound, the lights were fantastic. He gave us a bucket of ice to keep the bottles of Fix beer chilled for Paul and I, but Mary said she had he own stash.

On the way to the roof, the couple stopped off to collect a portable tape player from their room, and I stopped of at mine to gather the few cassettes I was carrying, even though my tape player had long since died, and a small baggy of pot and some rolling papers I had lugged across most of Europe.

It turned out that Mary had also picked up her stash - 3 airline-sized bottles of ouzo, which she had never tried before, but she said it smelled so nice - like fresh liquorice.

On the flat, tarred roof, we dragged three cane lounges and their thin cushions from the Roof Garden bar, which doubled as the winter storage shed, set them up facing the distant acropolis, and settled in to enjoy the light show to come.

We set up Paul's little player on the roof between us and set it playing my miserable selection of tapes: Woodstock Soundtrack, The Who's Tommy, and Leonard Cohen. Then I rolled us some joints and we puffed a round or two while we sipped on our drinks, and the lumiere part of the distant sound and light show began.

I told Mary that she was supposed to drink the ouzo mixed with iced water, but we had none, so she settled for putting an ice cube from our beer bottle bucket in her mouth and sipping the liqueur through that. It worked for her, and she wiped out the first two-ouncer in no time, and started on the second.

It was almost unreal, sitting there stoned and a little drunk, on an unusually warm October night, watching the lights play over the Acropolis, more than a mile away, as some unheard announcer told of its history. It didn't matter to us that we couldn't hear it. We had our own music playing on Paul's tape-player and buzzing in our heads. Although the son et lumiere presentations were about half and hour, the light shows went on for almost two hours, because it was repeated in English, French, German, and Greek. We had an ever-changing light show for all of that time.

It was long before the end, however, that Mary tried to stand up to go pee. She wasn't too successful. The ouzo and the pot had taken its toll. She almost fell flat on her face. Paul managed to leap up and grab her before she went face down.

"Oops," she giggled drunkenly. "I'm so dizzy. Think I'm going to be sick."

"I think I'd better put you to bed," said Paul, and to me: "Sorry to spoil your night, but I'm going to take her to the room and stay with her. You can finish off the beer, but I'd better take the player now before I forget it. We leave first thing. Will you take the key back in the morning?"

Paul handed me the key to bar-cum-storage shed.

Mary was busy mumbling apologies and giggling at the same time, hanging off Paul's shoulder to stop from falling.

"Sure," I agreed, as I popped one of my tapes from his player and returned his player to him. "I'll put the lounges away when I'm done here."

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," Paul said. "We'll be gone before you get up. You'll keep in touch?"

"Sure," I promised. "I have your dad's address."

"And we have yours," he said, and thrust out his free hand. The other held his player and was wrapped around drunken, druggy Mary. We shook hands goodbye.

"Goodbye, Paul."

"Goodbye, Terry."

"Goodbye, Terry," Mary echoed, giggling drunkenly as Paul led her to the roof stairwell and they departed, gone from my life. I was left alone in the night with an ice- bucket and some beer.

So much for Greek oracles!

I lay there for a quite a while, watching the remainder of the light show, sipping on my beer, then I started to stow the cane lounges back in the rooftop bar structure. I stacked two of them on top of others and put away their cushions, but the third I sat down upon, inside the structure and watched the lights through the window. I was feeling horny, and I knew I was alone here, so I stripped off my clothes.

I was already hard, and my cock popped of its own accord out of my undies as I slipped them down. I kicked off my runners and socks, my pants and undies, and my t-shirt, and stood there in the dark of the rooftop bar and the distant lights from the acropolis and began to jerk off.

"Wow!" came Paul's voice from behind me. "I wasn't quite expecting this, but I like it!"

I spun round, naked, my dick still in my hand, to see him approaching.

"Mary is absolutely passed out," he told me. "I wanted to see you one more time. When I got back to where we were sitting, you were gone, so I came looking for you!"

"ζητησει σοι"

"He will seek you!"

Even as Paul came toward me, across the darkened room, he was tearing off his clothes. By the time he reached me he was hobbling out of his pants and undies and shoes and socks, and then he was naked. We reached out for each other simultaneously and were immediately kissing furiously, hungrily, greedily, and groping for each other's penises.

The momentum of his approach and our meeting knocked knocked us both off balance and sent us tumbling onto the cane lounge.

I landed on top of him and could feel his hard cock pushing up at me. Clutching at me, he pulled me down onto him, hugging me hard to him. I could feel his stiff cock between my legs. Mine was pressed against his stomach.

Kissing me again and again, he told me, "I've wanted you since I first saw you. When we were loading the luggage in Athens before the trip. And when we shared the room in Delphi, I had a woody for you."

"Yes, " I remembered, "I felt it when you pressed against me on the balcony. So why didn't — ?" I didn't get to finish.

"Mary knows I like guys," he explained. "She has always known, long before we got engaged and got married. She is OK with that. She says we will work it out somehow. But that night, when she found out we would be sleeping together, she made me promise not to do anything with you. That's why I was in bed first. That's why I slept with my back to you. I had a raging hard-on."

"So did I," I laughed. "When I thought you'd gone to sleep, I jerked off."

"I know," he chuckled. "I was pretending to sleep, and felt you cumming. When you were finished and dozed off, I jacked off too."

I knew that his dick, rock hard between my legs, rubbing against my balls, was bigger than I had thought, bigger and harder than Nikos' had been, but I wanted it in me anyway.

"I want your cock in me," I told him. "I want you to fuck me."

"Good," he agreed. "I hoped you would, so I brought some Vaseline. It's in my jeans pocket on the floor."

While Paul continued to lay on his back, I reached down and retrieved the oil. I applied just enough of that oily goo to his cock to make it slippery. It was a huge cock, very thick around. I could not touch my fingers together when I grasped it at its base.

"Lie there," I told him, "I'm going to sit on it. Let me get it into myself easily."

Paul did as he was told. I squatted over him on my knees and lowered my buttocks back toward his waiting pole. I guided it to my hole with one hand, then lowered myself onto it. I felt his uncut knob forcing my sphincter apart, pushing inside, stretching me, widening the passage, then with an inaudible 'pop' his head was past the two rings of muscle and sliding deeper into me, unobstructed, his thick shaft following.

When he was completely inside me, I lay forward on top of him and our mouths met once more. Gently I rocked back and forward on his cock, and just as gently he pushed in and out below me, a very sensuous fucking motion as we kissed and sucked on each others mouths and tongues. Through the window, I could see the light show on the Acropolis was over, and now just the steady floods played on it. That was fine. All sorts of lights and music were playing inside me as Paul fucked me steadily.

But eventually, the cramped position of my legs, tucked under me like that, as I rocked back and forth, up and down, on Paul's huge cock, began to get to me. I suggested we try another position. He wanted me face down missionary position, so he could kiss my neck and face, but when we tried that the cane lounge cut into my cock through the thin cushion covering it, so we piled it up with more cushions we found, and went back to the task at hand, my dick nicely padded now. I lay face down, and Paul lay on top of me. His dick found its way to my hole and inside me again almost without help.

As he pumped his cock in my asshole, almost driving me nuts, Paul told me, "When I first saw you in Athens, I had a feeling that we would do this," he said, "that we were fated to do this."

"Maybe we were," I agreed, and told him of my vision in Delphi.

He chuckled. "Amazing what a blow on the head can do," he said. "But I thing this is more a matter of pheromones than gods and oracles — a chemical reaction between us, not a mystical one."

"Whatever it is, let's enjoy it. Fuck me."

Paul did just that, taking it slow at first, letting his huge cock slide up and almost out of me, then pushing gently but firmly down again. I could feel that ramrod spreading my tissues, finding its way deep into me.

"That feels so good," I assured him. "Your big cock fits in my hole perfectly. It fills me up."

"And your ass was made for my dick," Paul agreed. "I've done it with guys before, but it never felt this good. Most guys say 'Take it out, take it out, it hurts.'"

"If you take it out before we're done, I'll beat the shit out of you," I warned him.

But it didn't take long before Paul could hold it back no longer. He began to grunt and shudder, and I knew he was cumming inside me. Finished, he flopped his whole weight down on me.

"Just lie there till it goes soft," I told him, "and then I'll suck you hard again."

So that's what we did. Once I had sucked his massive cock to hardness once more, he fucked me again, again in missionary position. It took a little longer this time, and he had to do some furious pumping at the end in order to cum, but when he did we were both gasping and groaning with ecstasy.

Done, we walked naked outside onto the roof. No-one was likely to come up here, and anyway, Paul assured me he had propped the door closed with a broom handle when he came back up. He had hoped we would be having sex.

Paul sat precariously on the railing around the flat roof, framed by the Acropolis behind him. I stood between his spread legs, and we kissed there in the bright moonlight, far above the street. If anyone on the street below had bothered to look up, they might have seen us, two naked young gods making love against the sky eight storeys above them.

"Will I see you again?" Paul asked.

"Of course," I replied. "It's in the stars. It's fated. And beside, I have your parents' address. I'll write."

"Of course," he said, "I could never leave Mary, but as she says herself, we will work it out somehow, but I know I have to see you again."

"Me, too," I agreed.

We went back to the bar-cum-storage area and slowly dressed, hugging and kissing again while we did. Then we locked up, and went back down the stairs to our rooms on the floor below. At the door to their room, Paul kissed me once more, opened the door, slipped inside, and was gone.

I went back to my room a few steps along the hall. Undressing, I sat on the can and squirted a little of Paul's cum into the bowl. It was clear and creamy, not mixed with my shit or anything, so I squeezed some more out into my hand. There was plenty of it. Paul had shot loads. I used the slimy stuff to jack myself off with. Yes, kinky, I know, but it felt so good, using his cum to pump out mine. Satisfied, I washed off and went to bed, and dreamed of gods and oracles.

When I woke next morning, I dressed hurriedly and went and knocked on their door. No answer. They had left already.

Sadly, I went back to my room. Just inside I noticed a small card on the floor. It was the business card for the Viking Tour company. On the back, Paul had scrawled: Don't forget to write. P

Smiling, I went to put it in my wallet with the slip of paper which had Paul's parents' address. The smile slipped away when I found the address was not there. I searched my wallet and anywhere else I might have put it. It was nowhere to be found.

Do you know realize just many Hansons there are in the Minneapolis/St Paul phonebooks?

The prophecies of Greek oracles never turn out completely happy.

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