Men Unleashed

Mariam stood in the half light of early morning looking out over the garden wall of her villa to the buff coloured, dusty track beyond. She had found this villa two years ago and had fallen in love with its tranquillity and seclusion. Following the divorce she had had money and time on her hands and had flown out to Phallos to regroup and rebuild her shattered life. Forty-one, but not really looking it, still trim and shapely, Mariam was not yet ready for another man in her life. It was a time to let go of what had been her old life and return a little to the ways of her younger days and perhaps be more herself. A way forward or a way back? She was not sure it mattered.

Up the track came a runner, she could not yet see if it was male or female - they did so wear the same clothes these days. He or she would not actually be able to see her as the sun had just slipped over the horizon and was shining right down the track into the runner's eyes. Not that it mattered because she had already put a shirt on; it was not something she often did at this early hour.

The runner was closer - it was male - tall and dressed in trainers, running shorts and tee shirt. To Mariam's seasoned eyes this was a well built young man evidently keeping himself in trim.

"Kalimera," she said softly.

He had not seen her, he looked around and then up, "Oh, yes, good morning." He was English.

"Good to run before it gets really hot."

"Sorry, I didn't see you. I haven't seen anyone for three days at this hour."

"It is early. Few are about. Where are you staying?"

The runner explained - it was a good place.

"Hot enough running even this early out here. The sweat really pours."

"I am forgetting my manners; would you take some nero - a glass of water? You should carry a bottle."

"A question of weight and bother so... but yes please. I drank a lot before I set off"

"You can swim in my pool if you like, that is cooling. Come up here"

By the time Mariam returned with the water he was in the pool but still in his running things, his trainers neatly set together by the pool, socks tucked in. Evidently a tidy young man. She had wrapped a skirt around her. She sat and watched him. He swam well. A lithe young man without much hair other than the neatly cropped fairness of his head. She wondered if he yet shaved. He did seem young.

"Not essential but I would rather not be without a pool."

The young man agreed with Mariam as he pulled himself dripping from the water. Running shorts are not swimming shorts. Mariam could see the jock strap clearly through the wet material. She handed him the glass.

"Yiamas."

He drank still dripping.

"Perhaps you should have taken those off first."

He laughed, "I doubt they are much wetter now than they were. They'll dry - I'm hardly going to catch a chill! It is so lovely here on the island"

The glass was soon finished and with a wave the runner was on his way.

Mariam stood at her wall watching him go.

She was standing at her wall the next day. Again with a shirt against the sun; and a skirt.

"Kalimera," she said.

"Kalimera," he replied.

"Nero and a swim?"

"Please."

"Don't stand on ceremony. Let your running things dry in the sun."

The shirt came off easily but he hesitated at the shorts.

"Come on don't be shy. You've pants underneath surely?"

Not pants but a jock strap. A very male garment, supportive of the reproductive organs but revealing of the buttocks. An odd garment but not really any less covering than you might see on the beach.

His athletic crawl was impressive as were his buttocks clad in just the jock strap. Mariam paused and admired before seating herself. Tight young male buttocks were something she had always admired. There was much about the well built male to be admired. She remembered back to younger days – watching the young men run.

The runner came dripping out of the pool and sat opposite her across the table.

"Your name is?"

"Andreas Koulos."

"A Greek name?"

"Yes, but born and bred in England. Not really Greek at all."

"Mariam."

He sipped the water.

"That's better. Running is hot work here in August. Good to have that shirt off."

Mariam spoke again, "Why run with it, why run with the shorts either?"

"I might meet someone."

"Not at this hour. The Ancient Greeks ran naked of course. The first Olympic games - all the athletes naked."

"I'd heard that. Why?"

"Oh, the body beautiful I expect. Why not run just like that, no weight, you will feel so free and there is no one who will see you. Go like that. I'll wash your things for tomorrow when you run by."

"Could I? Should I?"

"Go on, just do it."

And he did. Mariam watched his athletic buttocks in the jock strap until they were out of sight. She smiled; she had meant for him to run naked, actually, but he had not taken the hint - or invitation. Mariam slipped off her shirt and skirt before diving into the pool just a little more naked than he - she did not have a thong - what a ridiculous garment!

The sun was just over the horizon the next day and the Cicadas had begun their diurnal electric buzz; the interminable background to the Mediterranean sunshine. Mariam stood leaning on her wall, a white linen shift covering her body to a little below her hips. A small speck in the distance was getting larger. "Kalimera," she said but he was too far away to hear.

"Kalimera," he called as he pounded up and waved at Mariam.

Mariam smiled both to him and to see him in just jock strap and running shoes. The jock strap gave modesty but little else. It was not a fashion garment. On her table were two glasses of water. On a chair were a shirt and shorts neatly ironed.

"Perhaps," said Mariam as a dripping Andreas fresh from the pool seated himself, "You should try running really like the Ancient Greeks. Have you seen anybody?"

"No, nobody. Not yesterday, not today, not... you don't mean?"

"That jock strap must be terribly hot and a bit uncomfortable. Why don't you free yourself and run like the ancients?"

To his intense surprise, a few minutes later, Andreas found himself running naked: running without his shirt, shorts or even jock strap through a country that was not his own. Free, unrestrained yet unnerving. What if he met someone? But he had not met a soul any other morning and she had said he would not.

Freed from his jockstrap, freed from its hot confinement his penis and balls moved from one side of his hips to the other as he ran, a steady slap, slap as they swung. Not uncomfortable, not unpleasant, certainly cooler but a little distracting. Andreas thought about Miriam. His penis thickened a little and slapped a little harder but he did not meet anyone.

Setting out the next day felt strange. Just putting on a pair of trainers and walking out the door into the moonlight and setting off. Andreas would never have dreamt of doing this back home but here, well the countryside seemed empty and the villas he passed were silent at that hour. He set off with his penis once more flapping loosely. Free running through the silent countryside.

Mariam lent over her wall. She had already swum in the moonlight, dried herself and slipped on her shirt and wound a thin leather cord around her wrist. It was a cord for men. The sun was just creeping over the horizon. It was a little early for her runner, for Andreas, but, even so, there silhouetted by the sun was a lone runner. Perhaps, she thought, the worry of total nakedness had unnerved him and he had risen a little earlier. She went to fetch the glasses of water and put on a skirt. Beside the table, on a chair were a shirt, a pair of shorts and a white jockstrap all neatly washed and ironed.

"Kalimera."

Lovely to see such a well built young man walking naked up her steps, the sweat shining on his muscled body, his genitalia swinging gently and his chest rising and falling with the exertion of his running. Miriam was not unmoved by the sight. She smiled in welcome.

"You look in need of a swim."

Andreas dived effortlessly into the pool.

Mariam waited with the water watching his buttocks flex as he swam up and down her pool. Beneath the water she caught glimpses of his maleness.

"How did you feel running like a Greek?"

"Strange, worrying but wonderfully free. Yes, I liked it but, perhaps... how kind of you to wash and iron... perhaps I had better be dressed in case somebody..."

"Not at this hour. You will see nobody."

"And whilst it felt free and cool there was one thing..."

"Yes?"

"My, how can I put it, equipment flopped around without the jock strap and I was not sure I liked that. Equally I did get all hot and sweaty in the strap."

He was being surprisingly open; perhaps it was because he was naked. His eyes were on the jock strap. He wanted to put it on.

"Ah yes, a problem solved by the Ancient Greeks."

"How?"

"The Kynodesme - the dog leash."

"The what?"

The Kynodesme. They tied their penises up with a leather cord pulled up around their waist, it both kept it from moving around, kept them cool and avoided impropriety."

"I don't get it; how did they tie it up and how on Earth did that avoid impropriety?"

"They looped it around the Posthe or more particularly the Akroposthion, pulled it tight and tied the cord up and around the waist."

"The what? What did they tie?"

"The prepuce, the foreskin."

"That'd hurt surely?"

"No, very comfortable I am told. Keeps the penis from swinging around, lifts the testes up and keeps them cool and, from the ancients' point of view, importantly hides the Balanos."

"Balanos?"

"The glans, your knob end, if you like in the English vernacular!" Her laughter came easily. "The Ancients regarded that as immodest to reveal, probably because it was associated with sex and erections. You don't mind me explaining?"

Andreas had certainly reddened. Mariam was being very explicit.

"They favoured a long foreskin which covered the Balanos; so we have the Posthe which is the foreskin over the knob and the Akroposthion which is the foreskin below. It is that which is tied with the kynodesme. Look at the old vases and statues in the museum. It is all there to see."

"How very odd. I'm not really a museum person."

"Try it. And do visit the museum. Stand up."

Andreas stood and almost disbelieving found himself watching as Mariam unwound a thin leather strip like a bootlace from her wrist. She made a loop and took hold of his penis. She just reached and grasped. Andreas jumped, clearly quite taken aback that a strange woman had grasped his penis. With apparent ease she pulled forward the Akroposthion and tied the leather thong tightly around it so it was caught, pulled the ends around his waist and tied the thong ends in a neat bow. His penis was now pointing upwards, pulled sharply vertical by the noose around his prepuce; so the prepuce, the Akroposthion, appeared like a little brown flower above the knot. His scrotum and testes were exposed and sat tightly drawn up below his penis.

Mariam lent back in her chair, "You'll find it cooler like that and you won't flop around. I'll keep your clothes and you can collect them tomorrow - if you need them..."

Andreas moved his body, stretching his torso, moving his hips, presumably seeing if his movement pulled on the leash and hurt him. All seemed to move easily. The tightly drawn up penis and balls held firm.

"It doesn't hurt." He seemed surprised. It's quite OK really. But what if I see someone?"

"What is the problem, your balanos is hidden, this is a Greek island you know, you are running like a Greek."

"I suppose..."

"See you tomorrow. Just run back a bit so I can see you run and your kynodesme is working."

Mariam stood by her wall and watched her runner jog past wearing nothing but a thin leather thong looped around and holding up his penis. It and he looked fine as he ran away from her - more than fine to her - and just as fine when he came running along the track the next morning. He had clearly had no trouble tying his own kynodesme. There was no bouncing with his penis held so tight, perhaps just a slight oscillation to the balls but that was not a difficulty nor unattractive. He looked very manly with such prominence given to his fertility. Mariam waved and Andreas came into her garden. This time she had dispensed with the skirt and he noticed - he certainly noticed.

Restrained by the kynodesme the erection could not go up and instead it went forwards. Andrea's penis thickened considerably and curved sharply forward like a banana - but more so - but the kynodesme held, the knot binding the foreskin strong. It certainly trapped the balanos within but only notionally hid it as the acorn shape became very clearly defined within the prepuce as it expanded - a bulbous virile shape.

"You see how good the kynodesme is? No embarrassment of a stýsi, an erection, poking and swinging around: instead it is all neatly restrained and almost hidden. A Greek could be in any company like that and nothing would be said because what should be hidden is hidden."

To Andreas it was hardly hidden and he was painfully aware of what he was doing and even more aware that Mariam was looking at and talking about his erection. He had not at all missed her dark triangle under her shirt or the curve of her buttocks.

"Always flattering for a girl, inducing an erection. How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"Oh, almost too young for women then. I wondered if you were younger."

"Huh?"

"Young Greek boys only have sex with men. Perhaps next year, though, will be different, perhaps you will grow a beard. You would be expected to be with women then."

"I'm not gay."

"What a silly idea. Of course you are. All men are at a certain age – or ages. It is only natural"

"No."

Andreas had not seen another person at Mariam's villa before but already at that early hour, whilst it was still cool, a big burly man with dark hair was working with a fork in the garden of the villa. Clearly a powerful man used to hard work, his legs like tree trunks, his arms strong; moreover a hairy man with black beard and moustache and considerable body hair. Not a man to be trifled with.

Mariam saw the direction of Andreas' eyes, "Thanatos. He gardens and does other things for me." Mariam left unsaid the other things.

Like Andreas, Thanatos was naked except for a narrow cord around his waist. He turned and Andreas could see the man was, again like him, wearing the kynodesme; the thin leather thong around his waist tightly looped and pulling. It was strange seeing another man with his penis drawn up tightly and his balls exposed rather than hiding behind the drooping penis.

It was as easy swimming in the kynodesme as running. The water cooled Andreas' tumescence but it was not easy to miss the lush dark curls in Mariam's lap or the curve of her bottom when he left the pool for his glass of water. Not easy when seated to avoid glancing at the curls, not easy at all when Mariam moved her legs and he almost saw between them. Once again he found he was restrained by the kynodesme as his shaft curved thickly like a banana towards her. He could see she had noticed. The smile said it all.

"You could loosen the knot and release if it is uncomfortable."

"No, no, it's fine." Andreas knew to release would see his cock bounding forward like a lion uncaged, the foreskin immediately rolling back to reveal his balanos and all that signified whether to Ancient Greek or modern woman. It really did not matter. The appearance was the same. He glanced towards Andreas, worried another man should see his erection, but the man was busy working, taking no notice of him or Mariam.

Mariam returned to her theme as Andreas drank his water.

"The Ancients looked after their young men; a young man would come under the tutorage of an older more experienced man and it was considered quite proper, indeed expected, for the erômenos, the younger man, to submit to the advances of the erastês. Perfectly normal. Of course once the young man got older, grew a beard and so on - the things you men do - he would take a wife and engage in sexual relations with her - but he might then, as erastês, take a young man under his wing."

"I wouldn't want my bottom invaded. I'm not gay."

"No, no, quite improper. Such an act would be demeaning for the erômenos. No intercrural sex was the thing."

"What?"

"I shall explain, if I can see you as my protégé, a young man I am encouraging and found attractive with your smooth young skin and fine white thighs then, if I was a man, I would seek to take my pleasure between those thighs, gently easing my phallus, my erection, between them, perhaps thighs already made slippery with oil of olives, perhaps your whole body made slippery with oil, perhaps my erection made shiny and slippery with the oil."

Her hand eased quietly between his thighs. His erection did not subside but remained straining forward, banana like. Her hand disturbing; especially when it moved, simulating the movement of the erastês.

It was clear Andreas was confused. Mariam was talking of the sexual actions of men whilst her own very feminine hand was on his thigh - between his thighs – and so very close to his tightly restrained penis. The brown wrinkled flower of the foreskin, the tight leather thong and the so clear outline of the balanos or knob.

"The ideal was, strangely, for the erômenos, to be unmoved by the act. Merely the passive participant. I think that is difficult to believe, difficult to believe his young penis would not rise and strain at the kynodesme. You can imagine the erastês untying it, letting it rise freely, balanos exposed and for them both to rub themselves between each other's thighs."

"No, I suppose not. But not for me."

"Oh, come, come. It must have been so very pleasant. Here you are at the junction of boy and manhood. Don't you feel torn between being the erômenos, with the prospect of women to come, and being the erastês?" Her fingers were lightly stroking his erection now, running lightly over the veins of the shaft. He seemed spell bound under the words she was saying and the touch of her fingers.

"You think not, you think you could contain the excitement, be the passive recipient of the erastês? Tied by the kynodesme could you contain yourself realising that if you couldn't then your posthe would swell, become bloated by the pumping semen all held back by the tight noose of the leather thong. Would it hurt, the pressure building and still the ejaculation flowing?"

Andreas eyes were wide, "No, I wouldn't want..."

"We shall see - THANATOS." Mariam called and the big gardener looked up and came towards them.

Close to, he was even bigger than Andreas had thought.

Mariam's hand reached and undid the bow around Thanatos's barrel like waist letting his penis fall. The ends of the leather thong fell free, swinging gently from where they were tied around the end of the gardener's penis. Andreas stared. The akroposthion was long and tapered beyond the knot – had years of wearing the kynodesme caused it to lengthen?

Mariam reached, caught hold of the two ends of the leather and lifted pulling the penis upwards again as if she did indeed have Thanatos on the end of a leash, a leash tied to his most sensitive part. A slight tug and he came close to her, as if he was used to being tugged by his kynodesme, used to obeying the woman. Her fingers worked, loosening the knot.

"You see, Andreas, what a fine akroposthion Thanatos has, perfect in proportion, only his whole penis would be, to for the Ancients, aesthetically too big. They valued a small penis as can be seen from the vases and statues in the museum. You must visit that. But did they value small penises in bed I wonder? Thanatos' akroposthion would be admired but his large penis perhaps the butt of jokes. I like it though – very much. Do you?"