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1

There is something about heat that only we northern Celts can fully appreciate. I hadn’t been abroad since my childhood, and the minute I stepped off the plane I was consumed by a bright heat rising from the Cretan rocks that forced me to slow down and take in the quiet beauty of the place.

And what a place it was. As I drove across the island in my rental car, I had to spare a thought for my brother Alan who had pulled out of the trip at the last minute due to another work crisis. He would have been in his element here – straight to the beach with a book and a bottle of factor 45 to start the slow transformation from ghostly Scottish white to a more Mediterranean bronze. Not so me, – I’m just a little too body-conscious to want to race down to the water at the first opportunity.

When I reached the apartment complex, I was happily surprised to find that Alan had booked us into a more traditional type of Cretan house, miles away from the more modern developments. I checked in and got the key for 4A, and was the more delighted to find a beautifully converted, spacious interior. On entering the master bedroom, I couldn’t help but try the huge bed and, after a frustrating morning waiting around for airport security checks, I found myself melting into the soft sheets and soon drifted away.

When I awoke it was just after eight in the evening, and the light coming through the shutters had begun to fade. I freshened up and decided to take a walk down to the local restaurant for dinner. On the way I deliberately forced myself to slow down and take in the surroundings – I was beginning to wind down into holiday mode. This felt like a great opportunity to recharge my batteries after a difficult few months, and to make a dent in the pile of unopened books I had accumulated.

The restaurant was just beyond the pool where I saw an older couple folding up their towels and making their way past me with a polite nod. The smell of the pool changed to fresh coffee, bread and garlic as I got near the restaurant. Inside, I asked for a table over in a quiet corner, as I usually do when eating alone. I asked the owner, what he recommended, and he brought me a wonderful dish of tiny fried fish, followed by grilled lamb and salad. As I ate, I couldn’t help wondering why salad tastes so much better on holiday. Is it the ingredients, or just that ambient heat that brings out the flavour?

My thoughts were interrupted as I cast my eyes around the room and had a look at some of the other guests. Judging by the strands of conversation I could hear, there were two groups of Germans, a young family who sounded Danish, and the elderly couple that I’d just seen leaving the pool and whom I think were French. Besides these, there were myself, two young girls that were too far away to hear, and another solitary woman at the far side of the room. My mind wandered back to my own table as I finished the last of the main course.

I don’t take coffee very often, but it smelled wonderful and I asked for a cup. Niko brought it along with an ice cold shot of his homemade spirit that I later found out was called ‘tsikoudia’. I’ve not been much of a drinker for a few years now, not since I left university at any rate, and the tsikoudia, after burning my throat, went straight to my head. This wasn’t helped by the affable Niko, who kept bringing out more of the stuff and stood over me proudly as he watched me imbibe. I eventually managed to talk him into bringing the bill, and made my way back to the apartment. The effect of the coffee was drowned out by the tsikoudia, and once again I fell into a deep sleep within a few minutes of lying on the bed.

When I awoke, I was soaking. I realised I’d just kicked off my shoes and got into bed with my shirt and trousers on. The heat was unbearable. I could manage it earlier with a breeze blowing through the room, but I’d closed the windows and forgotten to open them when I got in. I dumped my clothes and headed for the shower to cool down. It was only half past two according to the bedside clock.

Back in bed and a little cooler, I was now wide awake. I decided to try and sleep in the nude, on top of the sheets, but even then I was too hot to really relax. I took the first book that came to hand from my case, and resolved to read until I fell asleep again.

The book, which I’m fairly sure was given to me by an old flatmate of mine, turned out to be set in northern India during the late nineteenth century. Presumably that’s why he’d bought it, knowing that I was very interested in that sort of thing. I’m pretty sure however that he didn’t realise he’d bought me what amounted to a ‘softcore’ erotic novel.

Now, I’m not sure whether it was the heat and the sweat, my uncovered body, the different air, or the tsikoudia, or perhaps all of these together, but by about page fifteen I was utterly compelled by this book. It had been nearly two years since I’d split from my last girlfriend, and I had begun to feel like a ‘born again virgin’. For some reason my body decided that tonight casino oyna was the night of release, and I undertook one of the most intense moments of self pleasuring of my life. I managed to keep pumping my cock for about five minutes, before I collapsed down into the bed, utterly spent.

As my breathing eventually subsided, my eyes clouded over, and I was just re-entering the realm of sleep when I heard a very clear creak and the sound of a lamp being switched, as if in my own room. My eyes were instantly open, and my whole body became alert. I got up, and quickly looked around the room. No one was there.

I went into the ensuite bathroom and sat on the edge of the bath to think. My mind was in a state of panic, wondering where the hell that noise had come from. All of a sudden, as I sat there, I heard a door shut quietly, followed by soft footsteps. Next came a sound that could only have been piss hitting porcelain, followed by faint ripping of paper and running water.

I was utterly incredulous. How on earth, I asked myself, could someone split up this old house with what must have been paper-thin walls? There was absolutely no privacy whatsoever. Whoever was in that adjoining apartment must have had their bedroom right next to mine, and must surely have heard me jerking off for all I was worth not five minutes earlier. Perhaps they had even felt it.

My annoyance turned upon myself for not even considering the possibility of being overheard. How could I be so stupid? I was absolutely devastated, and started worrying about the next day. No doubt I would get a discrete visit from the manager of the place, asking me to consider the neighbours and then the rumours would spread like wildfire,

“Hey, there’s that creepy British wanker.”

I spent most of the rest of the night wondering whether to move to a hotel further down the coast, before finally falling asleep once more.

2

The light of morning brought some relief and perspective. I decided to keep a very low profile, and stick to my original plan of relaxing and reading (although I would avoid the erotic novel). I had a private balcony off the flat, and had seen a supermarket in the next village where I could get some supplies. As there was next to nothing in the kitchen, I made that my first priority.

By the afternoon of the second day, I was happily glued to a lounger with a detective novel and a bottle of water, being careful not to overdo the direct sun. Before I had left, my mother had given me a lecture about constantly re-applying sun cream. The fact that I was a few weeks short of thirty didn’t seem to affect her. To her I am obviously still a fair-skinned, eight year old boy with sunburn.

After a light lunch of feta and salad, I went for another lie down inside, away from the sun. I decided to spoil myself with a nice long bath. At home, I only have a shower, and the thought of a bath was tempting. I eased myself into the water, stinging a little from the sun, and fell into deep relaxation.

Not long after this, I heard a key in a lock, and what must have been my neighbours coming back in. It was incredible. I could clearly hear someone moving about the adjoining apartment. The next thing I knew, their steps got louder, and I guessed they must be right on the other side of the wall. It seemed that the apartments were a mirror image of each other, with the master bedrooms and bathrooms along the adjoining wall. Talk about poor design. I felt like I was invading their privacy.

At a loss for what to do, I made a few swishing sounds in the water in the hope that they would hear me and realise that I could also hear them. There was a very long silence. I made a few more noises in the water, and still there was nothing. After nearly a minute, I heard the sound of taps being turned on very close to me.

At first I thought they must have turned on the taps so as to drown out the sound of their pee, or perhaps of my water swishing. However, when the taps were eventually turned off, I was certain that I could hear the sound of someone slowly getting into the bath on the other side of the wall.

In my entire life, I had never been so alert to my surroundings. As I heard them moving in the water, I worked out that the bath in the next room must, like the one I was in, be lined up against the wall. Here I was, lying naked in a bath, inches away from another naked person about whom I knew nothing, and with nothing but paper thin plasterboard between us. The sounds stopped, and I guessed that, like me, they must be lying stock still, listening out.

The whole situation had somehow metamorphosed from embarrassment into an intense turn on. Eventually, for my own sanity, I made another noise with my arm through the water. After a few seconds, I heard a similar noise from next door. This was too much to take. Were they playing with me? I didn’t know who they were – young or old, male or female. I thought that if there was a family next door I would have heard them talking, but I couldn’t even be sure of that. Did they canlı casino know who I was? Presumably they knew I was a man after the episode of the previous night.

I made another noise, and sure enough, the echo came again. I realised that I had by now an almost painful erection. Emboldened, I tapped three times on the wall with my fingernail. Sure enough, after a slight delay, three taps came back. I desperately needed to know what kind of person I was dealing with. I hummed three low notes. After some time I heard them echoed in the soprano register, followed by what I’m sure was a stifled giggle.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

There was no reply. All I heard was the sound of the plug being pulled and someone getting out of the bath.

Clearly then, this must be my neighbour’s revenge for the previous night: she was going to toy with me for her own amusement. The thing was, I had never been as turned on, never as in tune with my sexuality. It was unbearable – I couldn’t even relieve myself again for fear of being overheard and reported.

That evening I had begun to get cabin fever, and my stomach demanded satisfaction. I resolved I was not going to be kept inside for fear of embarrassment at an honest mistake. No one would toy with me. I decided to make my way down to the restaurant again and face the music.

“Good evening sir,” said the owner.

“Good evening Niko” I replied, as he showed me to the same seat as the previous night.

Once seated, I surveyed the room for accusatory glances, but was met with no more than polite smiles by those who caught my eye. The Germans were all in, now sharing the one large table, and the Danish family were there, but no sign of the French, or any of the others. I ordered a Greek salad, followed by calamari rings and chips. What with the state of my nerves, I gladly accepted the first tsikoudia that Niko brought me.

“Here sir. Drink this. It will make the fire of Crete inside you, and is very good for the digestion.”

“Thanks very much. Have all the other guests been in tonight?”

“No sir, just these. Are you looking for someone?” he asked with what I’m sure was a faint smile.

“Oh no, thanks. Niko”

I finished the meal and was again plied with several glasses of Niko’s moonshine. It almost seemed as if he was trying to get rid of the stuff. On my way back to the apartment I felt rather unsteady on my feet, but at the same time I felt euphoric. No one was going to mess with me any more.

Feeling a little burnt by the sun, I went to apply aftersun liberally. There’s something about aftersun – perhaps it’s the smell, and the feel of hands all over the body, but it got me aroused again. I lay down in my bed, in two minds whether to read the porn novel, but felt I needed to know if I had company.

“Hello.” I said. Nothing for a while, then quietly,

“Hallo.” An accent – not English.

“You are a very rude man,” she said in what sounded like German tones.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t know you were there.”

“You should have asked if you want to do rude things with me hearing them.”

“If I’d known you were there,” I started to explain, then, “Wait a minute. You’re saying I should have asked you?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you serious? You mean, I should have asked ‘do you mind if I have a hearty wank for a few minutes?'”

“What is this ‘hearty'”

“It means full on.”

“You should have asked me,” she repeated.

My mind was being pulled inside out. I wasn’t sure whether I was imagining the whole exchange under the influence of the tsikoudia. I went on,

“So what would you have said then, if I’d asked you?”

“You’ll never know now Mr Rude.”

Mr fucking Rude? This girl had some teutonic nerve on her. Time to call her bluff I thought.

“Okay then mystery woman. I’ll tell you what. Right now I’m all turned on after our little shared bath today, and I want to have another wank. What do you say about that? Is that okay with you?”

After a pause of a good few seconds she said,

“Okay. You can do it as long as it’s okay for me to have a wank too.”

I thought I would awake from the dream at any minute, and before I could think said,

“Fine. That’s fine by me.”

“Good.”

The next twenty minutes were more satisfying than any sex I had ever experienced before. After a few minutes of creaks and sharp breathing, I eventually heard soft moaning come from what seemed like inches away. I closed my eyes and took my aching cock in my hand while I listened to and almost felt her crescendo of pleasure. I couldn’t hold out for very long, and covered my stomach in cum a full ten minutes before her stifled shrieks of pleasure eventually subsided into silence.

For some reason, neither of us felt the need to continue with our brief conversation after the fact, and I fell into the deepest sleep I had had in months.

3

The next morning I was in a quandary. Here I was, having a sexual relationship, so to speak, with someone I’d never kaçak casino even seen. I didn’t know anything about her. I might not find her attractive. She might not want anything more to do with me. There was only one thing that I was sure of, and that was that I wanted these feelings to continue. Just as I was lying there, going round in circles in my mind, she spoke.

“Hallo. Are you awake?”

“Yes. Good morning.”

“Good morning. What are you thinking today Mr Rude?”

“First of all, it’s time we were introduced, my name is Richard from Scotland.”

A short laugh, then, “My name is Christina. I am from Norway.”

So not German after all. I said “Nice to meet you Christina.”

“Nice to meet you Mr Rude… I mean, Richard”

I fumbled around with some more pleasantries, until eventually she said,

“You look very handsome Richard. I was thinking of you last night.”

“How do you know what I look like?”

“I saw you coming in here two days ago.”

“Oh. I haven’t seen you.”

“Yes you have. I was eating in the restaurant alone, two nights ago.”

My mind raced back to the meal. She must have been the one in the opposite corner. Pretty damn fine I thought I remembered; perhaps a little older than me. Finally she said.

“I think you should come through with me now and I will make you breakfast if you want.”

I agreed. Finally we would be face to face. Like a teenager going to his first date, I put on some shorts and made my way across the hall to knock timidly on 4B. After about four minutes the door opened.

“Come in.”

I went in and saw her standing, wrapped in a bed sheet, next to the kitchen table. Neither of us said anything as I sat down opposite her. I drank her in completely. She was a darker Scandinavian, not the stereotypical blonde type, but with a vaguely Italian look. I put her in her mid-thirties. Our eyes wandered over each other, returning repeatedly to each other’s face, trying to work out where to go from here. She broke into a smile.

“Come through to the bedroom.”

“What about my breakfast?”

“Come through to the bedroom.”

“Okay.” Why the hell was I going on about breakfast? I followed her through and we sat down next to each other on the side of her bed.

Being this close was wonderful. I watched her eyes moving over my chest and drank in the smell of her: perfume mixed with sun cream and sweat. I took her hand and kissed her forearm, tasting salt.

“Well Mr Richard, you want some breakfast?”

I looked at her, not sure what she meant. She shifted over and gently took my head in her hands. She kissed me on the nose and then gently guided me down her body, steadily edging back until my head was between her legs. This lady certainly knew how to ask for something.

I repositioned myself until I was lying flat on my stomach with her above me on the bed, lying back with her feet resting on my back. I set about her with my tongue, licking her pussy slowly as she warmed up, gradually getting faster and varying the action. She tasted strong, presumably from the previous night’s efforts, and as I went on, she began to pull my head in, first with her hands on my hair, then with the full strength of her legs. After what seemed like an age, her body began to spasm violently, and her feet beat down on my back. As she reached her peak she gripped my head between her thighs so tightly that I thought my head might explode. Instead I received an explosion of liquid into my mouth, that I thought at first was pee, and then realised was her cum. She laid back, having presumably served me up my breakfast.

“That’s us even,” she said.

“What?”

“For the other night, when you didn’t ask me permission.”

“Oh, okay. I thought you might like me to serve you some breakfast now.”

“Not right now. Maybe later. Could you just get me a coffee please Richard.”

On auto-pilot, and with my head still reeling, I went back through to her kitchen and made a large cafetière of coffee. I wasn’t sure yet where this was going, but so far I had no complaints. She had given me the most intense sexual experiences of my life in the space of a few hours.

As we drank the coffee, she eventually said,

“I have a plan Richard.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I’m not sure if you’ll like it.”

“Try me.”

“First, please tell me, did you like what we just did?”

“You mean this morning, or last night?”

“Well, I’m thinking more of this morning.”

“That was probably the greatest half hour of my life.”

“Are you serious? You enjoyed it that much?”

“Sure. What’s this plan then”

I wasn’t lying. Going down on a girl has always been high on my list of preferred activities.

“Well Richard…” she started, still not too sure of herself, “How long are you booked in here for.”

“A fortnight.”

“That’s great. Me too. How would you feel about staying here with me for the whole fortnight?”

“That sounds good. We can do all sorts of stuff together… there’s a nice little beach just down the coast…”

“I don’t think you understand Richard. How would you feel about staying in this apartment for the whole two weeks with me?”

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