This is a work of fiction.
*****
The only family member who would not have been surprised by my success at university would have been my grandfather, who unfortunately died before I started my studies. He left me everything. Not millions, but by the time his house and other assets had been sold, added to his savings the total amount was, well, certainly enough to kick-start my adult life.
There had been two conditions; the money could either be used to finance my further education, or frozen until I was twenty-five. He also specified what I was to study - Ancient Greece.
Ancient Greece had been his passion, he had eaten and breathed it. I even had a Greek name - Alexander. At school I was Alex, sometimes Alec as in 'Smart Alec'. When I was into my teens, my parents started to call me Zander, which I hated. Eventually, a girl friend started to call me Lex. I have been Lex ever since.
I had been a considered a waster at school, the joker, at the centre of all mischief. I had been threatened by my teachers and by my parents;
"You will come to no good," sort of thing.
But I confounded them all. I got adequate grades in the subjects that I needed, and good grades in the subjects that I wanted. I was offered a place at a good University.
Again, I played harder than I worked. To the extent that even I was surprised at just how good my degree was. I was invited to stay on and convert it to a master's. Three more years of study, one full time and two part time. I accepted, without really knowing whether I would honour my word. I knew that it was a once-only chance, but I felt schooled to bursting, I needed a break. This was May, I had until September to decide finally. I wanted to travel, and if possible, to earn a bit of money to top-up Grandad's diminishing bequest.
Naturally, I headed for Greece.
The hard way, thumbing lifts through Europe, sleeping rough or in hostels, and working whenever I could. After several weeks of this I had not reached Greece. But I was close, right at the toe of Italy. And with a job that could last all summer if I wanted it to, serving behind the bar of a trattoria, popular with both locals and tourists.
My sex-life had pretty much gone on hold when I started travelling. At college I had found it easy to score and expected to do so during my sabbatical. Not so. Fellow travellers seemed to be in couples and local girls were looking for husbands, not fun. I did not go entirely without, I managed to bed a few tourists, mainly older women looking for holiday thrills, but they all count don't they? Mostly though, my cock and my right hand became almost inseparable.
One day, a young woman who worked as a waitress in the restaurant, told me that she had seen a notice at the mini-mart where she shopped, she thought that it would suit me.
"Crew wanted for 12 metre sailing yacht. Must have experience, speak English or Dutch and be prepared to commit to four weeks cruising Greek Islands. On-board accommodation and all meals provided, plus smile money."
I liked the last bit. The notice was in English, French, Dutch, Italian and Greek. There was a 'phone number.
The notice could have been aimed specifically at me. I had been a member of my university sailing squadron and had crewed in ocean races. I also had a fundamental grasp of Greek and French, by which I mean a reasonable vocabulary and the ability to ask for a beer or say;
"Do you speak English?"
And my Italian had become quite good since my stay in Italy. I called the number.
A voice answered in Italian. The number was for the harbour office, I was told to leave my number and I would be called back. I gave them the number of my workplace.
This was in 1979, mobile phones were around, but the domain of the very rich. The internet was in the future. Happy days. HIV/Aids was also yet to be invented. Yes, I am one of those who believe that it was man-made, in a biological weapons lab somewhere, and inadvertently escaped into an unsuspecting world. Back in 1979, people could still fuck without fear.
But I digress. An interview was arranged at a bar close to the small harbour that served both the local fishermen and the occasional pleasure craft.
The advertisers were a Dutch couple, Matthijs and Elis, he was about forty and she was about ten years younger. They made a striking couple, he was athletically built and good looking. She was drop-dead gorgeous. They had left Holland at about the same time I had left England, with another couple as crew, the plan being to sail around the coast of Europe to Greece and to spend the summer exploring the islands. The male half of the other couple had fallen and fractured his hip. He had to be flown home to recover. His wife had gone with him, leaving Matt and El crew-less.
The interview went well and we arranged to take the boat out the next day, in order to see how well I sailed. It was a dawn start, I had to be back at work by lunchtime. There was a brisk breeze and the yacht handled like a dream. I had a new job.
The owner of the trattoria was not overjoyed at my short notice, but we came to an arrangement and three days later I was at sea, heading for my beloved Greece.
Kerkyra, the main port of Corfu, was our destination. Matt had me sail the boat for almost the entire trip, stopping only for comfort-breaks. He sat alongside me monitoring my performance. El meanwhile, kept us supplied with cold drinks and a light snack at lunchtime. As soon as we were at sea, she had removed the blouse that she had tied round her waist, displaying a pair of tits to die for. I could not keep my eyes off her, something that she was very aware of. As was Matt. I had a painful hard-on for much of the time, first of all trapped in my shorts until I could adjust it into a more comfortable position during a pee-break. My predicament seemed to cause much amusement for my hosts.
She covered up as we came into harbour at Kerkyra, then went below to dress for shore. I was to accompany her into town to stock up on supplies, Matt would check the boat and handle the paperwork. We were moored at the boat club.
El did the shopping, I did the carrying. When we returned, Matt announced that he had booked a table for dinner at the boat club. Dressed for dinner, the difference between our incomes showed, El wore a short, pale blue/green silk dress. The dress itself had little in the way of shape, but draped itself over her spectacular curves in a way that made it look like it had been poured on. Clearly no bra, the silk just dripped from her nipples, and if she was wearing knickers, they did not show. It was a lot later when I noticed that her shoes matched the dress, along with every man in the restaurant, and most of the women. Matt wore tailored slacks and a pale pink silk shirt. I felt very scruffy in jeans and T-shirt, I resolved that if we were going to eat out, I would spend some of my smile money on smarter clothes.
The food was wonderful and there was a seemingly endless supply of wine to wash it down. Three very wobbly people made their way carefully back to the boat, which thankfully, was not far away. I fell asleep immediately, but was awakened by a cry from very close. I shot out of bed to investigate, realising as soon as I opened the cabin door, that the cries were coming from the other cabin. They were not cries of distress, but cries of passion, El was being very vigorously fucked.
Rather ashamedly, I stayed to listen until they had finished. I had an excuse to be out of my cabin - 'my' bathroom, or if you want to be nautical, head, was separate from my cabin, being the communal one for the boat, whereas the master cabin had en-suite facilities.
I snook back to bed with a mega hard-on. And it was not going away without help. I wear tight jockey-shorts in bed, tight because I am a restless sleeper and loose sleep-wear tangles around me. I threw the sheet off and slipped the shorts over my feet. My friend pointed up at the wall behind my head. I closed my eyes and wanked myself off quickly and efficiently, imagining that it was El's hand around it and not mine.
The next morning, Matt said that he wanted to move up the coast and find another, quieter mooring. The boat club berth was also quite expensive, we could moor for free in one of the many sheltered bays and use the tender to go ashore. There was almost no wind and what drift there was, was in the wrong direction. The sails remained furled, we used the engine.
The sea was flat calm, El decided to take the opportunity to sunbathe, lying on the cabin roof, which she did naked. She spread out a towel and proceeded to oil herself all over. I was close to coming in my pants. She had completely shaven pubes. I had never seen a shaven haven in the flesh and was intrigued by it. To me, it looked like a miniature version of her peachy arse, complete with cleft, but when she moved so that the slit parted, a portal to heaven was revealed. At last, much to my relief, her act of whole-body, oily masturbation ended and she stretched out to soak up the sun. She was soon asleep.
"She is beautiful, no?" asked Matt, nodding at his lovely wife.
"She is very beautiful, yes." I replied.
Matt nodded approvingly.
"Did our fucking disturb your sleep?"
How do you answer a question like that? Both yes and no would have meant that I had heard them, to say that I had not heard them would have been a lie. I think that I muttered something about not being disturbed. There was a long pause as we both enjoyed the tantalising sight of El's perfect breasts rising and falling as she breathed. Matt's next question almost caused me a heart-attack;
