04

Chapter Three: On to Cyprus

It didn't take even an hour to fly from Istanbul to the Ercan "International" Airport in northern, Turkish, Cyprus the next day, but we sat for an hour and a half waiting to take off in Istanbul. So, I had plenty of time to survey the damage done by Altan Tilki the previous night, to worry about my concerns on what these demanding fetishes were that Tilki said I would be subjected to in this

Kibris Delight

movie, and to wonder how much longer I could continue saying "yes" to every question and demand made of me. Surely there were limits to what I could and would take.

I was met by a crew of three at the small, functional Ercan International Airport, the "international" name being a bit questionable as flights only came from and went to Turkish mainland airports. The men meeting me were Turkish, and they were quite different from each other beyond each having a body to die for that I'm sure was highly photogenic in pornographic films. The filming started as I was walking down the stairs from the airplane on the tarmac on the dusty Mesaoria plain covering the central area of the island of Cyprus, divided more loosely now than in years past between the Greek Republic in the south and the Turkish dependency in the north. The filming was rolling on almost continuously the whole weekend I was there, yes, including when I shaved, took a piss, and sat on the toilet. There was no telling what would be boiled down to six scenes in a two-hour movie.

The man in charge, in his late forties or early fifties, was a handsome, hirsute, beefcake man named Kadir Solak. He was ever smiling, stocky, but heavily muscular and overpowering. His body hair was salt-and-pepper in color and was profuse on his bulging chest, his thickset, but hard belly, his forearms and thighs. Accompanying him in greeting me was his opposite, Edric Karga, a sultry, dark young man in his late twenties, who was unsmiling, more smoldering than mean looking, and more sexy and beautiful than any young man had the right to be. Kadir was gregarious; Edric was silent. His body was lean and wiry, but it was hard as steel. Kadir was as bald on his head as he was hairy of body, whereas Edric had a rich flow of jet-black head hair tied back in a ponytail now, but often flowing down to his shoulders during sex.

Following us around at a distance was the cameraman, Tari Balik. He was the balance of the two other men in age and body style. He was in his mid-thirties. He was muscular but neither body-builder bulging like Kadir was nor slender and wiry as Edric was. He was the technical expert of the three, most often the man behind the camera. If I'd thought he was just there to do the filming, though, I was mistaken. He always was moving about, making the shot the best it could be. I was to find that he was heavily tattooed and was the combination of Kadir's thickness of cock and Edric's length and, although he got into the action less than the other two, he did get into the action.

When Tari fucked me, he made love to me. Kadir and Edric screwed me, Kadir with joyful abandon that concentrated on his own enjoyment, Edric with cruel mastering that concentrated on conquering me and taking his trophies.

I wasn't the same young man getting off the plane in Cyprus as I had been in Istanbul. In Istanbul I was casual elegance. In Cyprus I was rent-boy fuck me. I had arrived in Istanbul a golden blond, smooth bodied, blue-eyed all-American college student type. When the plane touched down at Ercan, I descended from it a red-headed, green-eyed, five-o'clock shadow chinned, bad boy with the tattoo of a gecko low on my belly near my left side. The tattoo was temporary. It would fade in a week on its own, I was told. The green eyes were contacts. Altan Tilki had shampooed in the red himself the night before, being aroused while tinting my pubes and putting me on all fours on the bathroom floor and fucking me like a dog. I was still dressed in Standish's menswear line, but when arriving in Cyprus I was in low-rider tight jeans and a half-cut T-shirt from his special, private collection that left my belly, and its gecko tattoo, exposed. All of the clothes, such as they were, that I wore for the filming were from Standish's current line--the sexy one he advertised in limited venues.

The filming continued with the three of us, Kadir, Edric, and me sauntering to the car, a large salon sedan, with me between the two men, each of the men with a hand on one of my butt cheeks. That I didn't shrug them off signaled to anyone viewing the movie that they would fuck me on film without any resistance from me.

Edric fucked me in the backseat of the car during the fifty-minute drive west across the Mesaoria, over the Kyrenia range of mountains in the north, and up the northern slope of the mountains to a villa perched over a panoramic view of the ancient harbor town, complete with a Byzantine harbor castle wrapped inside a crusader fortress. Tari Balik filmed the fuck from the front seat of the car.

The Turks called the harbor town Girne and the Greeks called it Kyrenia. Kadir drove, taking amused and lusty looks into the backseat, grinning and popping his tongue in his cheek for Tari, hanging over the passenger seat to film, as Edric overpowered me with kisses and fondling in the backseat, tore my clothes off, and put me on my back under him across the seat. He was being rough and I struggled with him at the beginning, as he told me in whispers he wanted me to do. He slapped me across the face and muttered, "

Bana deligini ver. Bana deligini ver

."

Kadir laughed from the front seat. "He wants your hole, Lee. He's telling you to lay back and let him have your ass. Lay down nicely for him, give him your hole, and he won't be as rough. It's all good for the camera either way. We want you looking good for the rest of the film, though. Edric can get rough when he's excited."

Edric slapped me again and, surrendering, with a moan, I lay back, spread my legs, raised my pelvis, and arched my back when, after spreading me open with his fingers, he thrust one of the longest cocks I'd ever seen inside me. I lay there, vulnerable and open to him, whimpering, begging for mercy from the camera, as he pounded the hell out of me.

"

Onu kamera icin iyi fuck, Edric

," Tari called into the backseat.

"

Iyi davranislar gosterin cocuklar

--Show good manners, boys," Kadir called out. "You know English. Use it. Tari was urging Edric to fuck you good for the camera, Lee. I know Edric will."

And Edric did fuck me well.

He was cruel and expert, pulling all of the sounds one would want to hear from a young man being ravished, out of me. He put it in deep and when I opened to him, he exploited my vulnerability, fucking me hard and pushing as deep as he could inside me as he gripped me with his strong hands and legs, punishing me as he fucked me. His buttocks rose high, the bulb almost coming to the surface, on the withdrawal, and he dove deep on the thrust, bouncing me off the cushion of the seat, pulling a deep groan and gasp out of me on the thrust and a moan on the withdrawal.

I had already been told that men who watched such movies liked to be able to see the moment when the bottom gave it all up and either went docile and limp for the fuck or intensely became one with the coupling. Having discerned that Edric liked to conquer, I relaxed, with a whimper, opened entirely to him and let him take what he wanted.

"Yes, yes," I murmured. "Fuck me good." He did.

They also, I was told, wanted to see the cock buried in the hole, spreading it, and what could be seen of the root lengthening and shortening to show the anal fucking was genuine. They didn't, in those days, want to see evidence of a condom. Edric barebacked me and Tari came in close to capture all that movie patrons would like to see, including withdrawing to the surface for the cum shot and pushing of the cock inside again.

When Edric shot his load, he bit me on the nipple, causing me to cry out in passion and pain, which the camera loved. I was the innocent and he ate me up alive, with a cruel smile and flashing eyes. He knew just how to position us to provide the best angles for the camera. The camera was ecstatic.

Once in the villa, Kadir took me to a large king-sized bed in a room set up like a Turkish harem, leading me there naked from the car, and fucked me in a missionary position that had him kneeling between my thighs and lifting my pelvis up to him, my torso streaming back onto the bed, my arms extended straight from my body in a cruciform "I surrender all" position, an attitude of total surrender that had been set with Edric conquering me in the car. The incongruity with the harem motif of the room was that there were spotlights attached high on the walls just below the ceiling and trained on the bed. This told me that at least part of the movie would be filmed on this bed. Indeed, Kadir taking me this first time might wind up in the movie.

When Kadir pulled an ejaculation out of me and he had come as well, bringing his thick cock to the surface, gushing cum, and then sticking it back in for renewed slow stroking--this was a barebacking film; the timing was 1980--he took the camera from Tari, who came down onto the bed on his side, pulled me into him, guided his cock inside me, and made side-splitting love with me with much undulating of both of our pelvises in rhythmic unison with deep mouth kissing.

I was both surprised and well warmed up, and thus quite receptive, when Tari came into the action. In these initial fucks, the three men established their own territory in how a scene would spin out. Edric and/or Kadir would conquer me, and Tari would comfort me.

And so the saga of

Kibris Delight

started.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a tutorial on sucking cock and taking cock for the camera. I had had no idea that so much was involved in being filmed being fucked--such specialized positioning to please the camera the best. I, of course, had very little experience in being fucked for the camera at all, but I did have considerable training in stage work, so I found that part understandable. The session also involved considerable instruction in giving head on film to the three men, so I was totally acquainted with their shafts by the time dark was coming on. They didn't fuck me during this training, though, taking the instruction up to the point of penetration but not completing it.

"We want you fresh," Kadir explained in his heavily accented, but very British speech. Of the three, Kadir Solak was the only native Cypriot and Cyprus had once been a British colony. He spoke English better than the other two, but they spoke it quite well enough too, I decided, since all I'd learned to say in Turkish thus far was

evet

--yes.

When he said "Do you understand?" now I answered with the key word I'd learn to say from the beginning.

"

Evet

."

In the gathering dusk, they drove me down to Girne harbor, where we ate under strings of lights right on the edge of the harbor wall, with small yachts and fishing boats bobbing beside us. We feasted on roasted lamb and potato wedges, fresh grilled fish, village salad, mountains of peasant bread, and bottle after bottle of Efes beer. Such interludes would be atmospheric subscenes in the movie and Tari bounded around filming the scene when he himself wasn't eating. The scene was laced with kissing and fondling as well as lustful and intentional looks with the eyes. Ours wasn't the only table where this was going on.

The harbor was crowded--it was a Friday night--and many men stopped at our table to greet the three men I was with. Everyone seemed to know everyone else--except for me. The men coming by didn't ignore me. They smiled at me; they leered at me; they gave me suggestive looks; some of them popped their tongues in their cheeks, which I think was an expression of "I see a delectable little whore." All of it went on film. All of the men, of varying ages from twenty to sixty were very fit and were hunks. Some were obviously workmen; others were businessmen. All were extremely friendly. At some point Kadir admitted to me that the visits had been prearranged. The men had signed releases to be in the film.

"Will they do more in the film than visit us at the dinner table?" I asked.

"Quite possibly," Kadir said, with a smile. "We shall see how the filming goes."

When we returned to the villa and its stone terrace, which was larger than the villa itself and overlooked the night-lit town and the sea, it wasn't just the three of us. Five or six of the men who had stopped at our table gathered on the terrace of the villa as well. My question was quickly being answered, so I was prepared for what was unfolding. Some of the men stopping at our table slipped money to Kadir, so it was evident that they expected something worthwhile to transpire.

For the next two hours after we returned, I sat or lay on a divan in the middle of the terrace, as naked men gathered around me and I gave head and was fucked repeatedly by more men than I could keep track of. All of the activity was captured on film by Tari. Kadir and Edric both took their turns. Tari, who was filming it all, did not. But it was Tari who slept with me in the big bed that night and who soothed and slow fucked me to sleep. Tari was the one to give me comfort for what the other men did to my body.

The first day of a three-day filming weekend closed with three scenes and some filler already in the can. Ominously, before he saw me off to bed, Kadir told me that the tame, conventional sex beginning of the film had been shot and now it would move into the rougher, fetish scenes Nigel Standish had told me would be the focal parts of the movie. The film was to be about my spiral down into fetish degradation. I shuddered to think what was coming. So far I was learning to enjoy it. There were a lot of hunky men paying attention to me, wanting something from me that was easier and more pleasurable to give with each successive coupling, taking it from me in a way that made me feel like they couldn't get enough of me.

"Can you give me an example of where this film might go?" I asked Kadir. "Tonight I sucked off or was fucked by what? eight men? How can it--?"

"The eight men fucked you here, on this beautiful terrace overlooking Girne, under the stars. This was a romantic setting even though there were many men. What this could move to is you leaving a tavern in the town, entering a dark, narrow street, and the eight men coming upon you there and passing you around, taking you hard and sharing you roughly on a dark night in a narrow, cobble-stoned street."

Oh.

Turkish men are primeval animals. And I mean that in a good, way. I found I was particularly aroused by self-possessed men like Edric who just took it as by right and tore it out of their prey. Once I had adjusted to his macho approach, I couldn't get enough of him. I scared myself on the discovery that cruelty heightened my arousal, but there it was.

* * * *

Kadir was right. The next day, Saturday, got into the kinky and the more demanding. Two weeks before this I'd had no idea what some of this sex fetish was. I certainly wouldn't have believed I could manage it. I didn't think Kadir had been told how much of a neophyte I was. He treated me like I was a seasoned rent-boy who had no qualms about being fucked by anyone and everyone he put on me and in any position.

It started late in the morning. That's when I got up, rousted out of bed by Kadir, who pointed out, truthfully, that I'd slept the morning away. It was partially his fault for what he, as director, had had me doing the previous day. Right off the bat, though, we were into the kinky.

Tari was already out of the bed and ready with the camera. Kadir let me go to the bathroom but the next scene picked up right there. I was standing at the toilet, pissing into it, when Edric came in and saddled up behind me. Tari was in the doorway, pointing the camera at us. Edric came in close, reached the hand on the other side of my body from the camera--always mindful of the sightlines--cupped my balls, wrapped two finds around the root of my cock, and held it as I arced piss into the bowl. Then he was down on his knees behind me, with me leaning over the toilet, palms of my hands pressed into the wall behind the toilet as he ate out my ass and pulled my cock through my thighs and milked it. The camera whirred as he then stood up, covered me from behind, thrust inside me, and fucked me in a doggy position. Since this was being filmed, he gave the camera a shot of him pulling out of me, arcing his cum on my hole and then thrusting inside again for a few more strokes.

The scene wasn't over when he was done, though. Kadir came into the bathroom and ushered me into the shower. We fucked under the cascading water, my back pressed to the tiles of the shower wall, my knees hooked on Kadir's hips, and my arms around his neck, as he fucked me against the wall. Edric stood nearby, at the edge of but within the camera frame, watching us and stroking himself again, replacing Kadir for seconds with me after Kadir had come.

Kadir didn't join us for lunch on the terrace of the villa, which Tari, of course, intermittently filmed, because the older man was reviewing what had been filmed the previous day and this morning. When he did come out he was dressed in an elegant suit, looking very dapper, and pronounced all of the footage he had reviewed as very good.

"Perhaps this will be a longer movie than two hours and will include more than six scenes," he said. I knew that four scenes of my taking in various ways had already been filmed along with some filler material. I had thought perhaps we were coming to an end and the more demanding scenes Kadir had referred to may not take place. It seemed I may have been wrong.

"I will have to consult on this with Altan Tilki in Istanbul," Kadir said. "And speaking of the clothing manufacturer, it is nearly time for us to drive down to the Dome Hotel for the fashion show. I want to do some fashion shots for Nigel in the harbor before the show."

Ah, the fashion show, I thought. The nominal reason I had come to Cyprus, what was stamped on my entry card as the reason I was here. There was to be a fashion show of Nigel Standish's clothes at the Dome Hotel at the other end of the Girne harbor from the castle today. Edric went into the villa and he too returned looking like a fashion model himself. Tari remained a laid-back cameraman.

The clothing shots on the stonework in Girne Harbor went off without a hitch, and I suppose the fashion show was a success. Kadir played the fashion king and I walked the runaway in everything from formal evening wear to the skimpiest of male bikinis, not much more than a belt and a sock. That said, I was received as well, if not better, than the other models, being the only one brought in from off the island. The other models were all Turkish. I was the exotic one in the show. There were two more cameramen besides Tari, and they did full, artistic coverage. Kadir said that film from the show, especially of me, would be excellent transition material for the rest of the movie we were shooting as would be the still fashion shots on the quay and the ramparts of the castle.

Kadir came backstage at the end of the show. He only briefly congratulated me on my part in the show. He was more concerned about what was to happen next. "Leave that bathing suit on. You can put a T and jeans over it. We are going right on to the next scene."

We went to a deserted beach near Girne, there being a great number of pocket beaches on the northern Cypriot coast, in two separate cars. Tari drove me. I stripped down to the sock bikini in the car, and he followed me, me carrying a large beach towel, down to the beach, filming me the whole way. He filmed me going into the sea and coming out and lying on the towel.