It was inevitable that it would happen--sooner or later. It was building up to sooner. Karim, still, at eighteen, going by the nickname of Kari, had lain in bed in the connecting room at the Dome Hotel in the ancient harbor town of Kyrenia in Turkish Cypriot and listened to the Danish UN soldier fucking his father, Hadid, in the other room. Kari's inclination was no different than his father's, and he lay on his bed masturbating to the sounds of his father's moans, first, as his father's cries revealed, the soldier taking him forcefully right there on the floor of the bedroom in a doggy position and then on the bed with the headboard of the bed in the next room bouncing rhythmically against the wall and his father bleating how bloody big the Scandinavian was. It was nominally the midafternoon siesta time, a time during the hottest portion of the day that people in the Mediterranean took to their beds to nap. Hadid and Bjorn had taken to Hadid's floor and then his bed to fuck--and later, Kari heard, in the shower of the other room as well.
None of this was a surprise to Kari. His father had made no bones about vacationing in Cyprus to get laid, and his top of chose was a Scandinavian UN solider--just what he was getting. He'd brought Kari with him because, he said, at eighteen it was time for Kari to go over the top too, no matter what his preference.
It seemed the Dane could go on for hours. Kari's frustration was that he wouldn't be with him. Kari was still a virgin to men.
Kari's father was a Egyptian Arab. His family ran a successful restaurant in London. Kari's mother was English, but she was off cruising around Norway with her boyfriend, and Kari had been brought on holiday to Turkish Cyprus by his father. The parents weren't divorced but they quite definitely were separated. This supposedly was Kari's holiday to celebrate having just turned eighteen. Both parents had declared it was an important time for Kari--his coming of age. His mother, however hadn't put his special day ahead of what her Norwegian boyfriend wanted to do. Kari rather wondered if his father hadn't taken up with the Dane just so he would have a Scandinavian too.
Kari's parents also had a different idea of what coming of age meant. His mother thought of it more in terms of responsibility--pinning down a career and starting into it and moving on from being under her roof. His father was more of a pleasure in bed guy. This perhaps was why the two parents no longer were together. Hadid somewhat resented having Kari dumped on him because his mother wanted to go off with a boyfriend. That probably was why Hadid was in the adjacent room being very vocable about being rough fucked by a UN solider and having Kari just in the other room.
Well, Kari wouldn't mind having a Scandinavian himself. He was ready to take that step.
Bjorn was a beautiful, blond, hulking UN soldier of twenty-three on vacation himself in Kyrenia from the UN base on the Green Line dividing the capital of Nicosia to the south of the harbor town. In 1986, there was an uneasy truce between the two factions dividing the island, the Greeks to the south and the Turks to the north. Rotating units of neutral UN countries took on the duty to keep the two ethnic communities apart. They sent elite troops of hunky soldiers. Bjorn definitely filled that bill.
Hadid and Bjorn had hooked up while touring the Kyrenia castle, a Byzantine castle nestled inside a Crusader's Castle, in the harbor earlier in the afternoon. They had exchanged pleasantries in passing each other while exploring the castle. Bjorn and Hadid obviously liked the looks of each other and Bjorn had an eye for Hadid's dark, sultry, eighteen-year-old son, Kari, as well. Kari, half Egyptian and half British, but all lithe, berry-brown, and handsome sultriness, had been attracting the attention of many Turkish men in the town. He had just the right mix of Europe and the Middle East in him to be seen as exotic by Mediterranean men. Turkish men, in particular, were a randy and demanding bunch. Many of them would fuck anything that moved. The Arab-English youth was ripe for it. For that matter so was his father.
Hadid had spent some of the time teasing Kari about getting laid for the first time. He seemed all for Kari losing his virginity to a man here in Cyprus. "What about that one... or that one," he continuously was saying as they ogled the men who were ogling them.
His father had gone into seeking submissive mode as soon as they had entered Cyprus. With him, it was an often-employed stance. Having just turned eighteen, Kari wasn't experienced in the male-to-male hookup, but he was more than interested and willing.
Bjorn was sitting at a table by the harbor, drinking beer, when Hadid and Kari came out of the castle. His eyes met with Hadid's in passing, and an interest and understanding that had been established in the castle was affirmed. Bjorn asked them to sit and drink with him. They happily did so. They chatted amicably during which Bjorn established that Hadid was an active submissive and Kari was uninitiated, along on the vacation because he was celebrating an important birthday and couldn't be left on his own in London.
Hadid didn't tease Kari about having his cherry popped by the hunky UN soldier drinking beer with them, so the young man got the message that his father wanted the Dane for himself.
An hour later, they had gone to Hadid and Kari's rooms in the Dome to escape the heat of the day and to honor the midday withdrawal hours of the locals. Hadid was on his knees, barking at the Dane, making like a dog in heat, and then on his back, legs raised and spread, arms raised over his head, grasping the rungs of the headboard, while the hunky, muscular Dane knelt between his thighs, pounding away in his stretched anal passage and pulling groans and little cries of pain-pleasure out of the Egyptian restauranteur on the make.
Kari was in the other room, on his bed, beating off, and wishing that someday--sooner than later--it would be him under a body beautiful such as the Danish soldier hunk. No doubt while plowing the father, the Dane was giving some thought to wishing--and hoping--to do the son as well. The son was claimed to be a virgin. He would be a delicious first-time lay.
They ate in the harbor next to the bobbing boats and under the strings of fairy lights that night. Kari sat next to the Dane and across from his father. The two older men carried the conversation, but the Dane touched Kari now and again on the arm or the leg and the young man was in heat. He also was watching a muscular and handsome Turk appearing to be in his early thirties closing down the small fishing boat he'd floated into the harbor and berthed right next to the table where Kari and the men were eating. The quay where the outdoor restaurant tables were located edged right up to the water where the boats were tied up.
As he worked, the Turk ogled Kari and Kari ogled him back. The Turk finished his business and came up onto the stone quay rimming the harbor that had been taken over by restaurant tables. He gripped Kari's shoulder to help climb up onto the land. In doing so he smiled and nodded at Kari and Kari, feeling a surge of arousal, smiled back. He let his hand squeeze Kari's shoulder for a few seconds longer than necessary and a surge of sexual energy coursed through the young man's body.
The Turk didn't leave the area. He moved as far as the opening of an alley beside the restaurant that served the outdoor tables where Hadid, Kari, and the Dane were eating, turned, leaned into the stone of the corner of the restaurant, and stared at Kari.
Not long afterward, Kari said he had to take a piss and left his father and the Dane and went toward the restaurant building across the quay. He didn't make it there. The big bruiser Turkish fisherman, covered only in coveralls exposing much of his beefy chest, and in rubber boots, pulled Kari into the alley by the restaurant, into the shadows, and pushed him up against the stone wall.
His hands went all over the eighteen-year-old's willowy body, covering the young man's face and throat with kisses. The evening was quite warm, and Kari was only wearing shorts and sandals. The Turk grasped Kari under his thighs and raised his legs, hooking them on his hips, trapping the young man against the wall and off the walkway. Kari could feel the size of the hunky Turk's erection. The youth moaned, ripe for where this was leading. Turkish men were cocky and forward and known to just take what they wanted. Kari thought that might be the best way to give up his virginity to men--to let the man do it all, make all of the decisions.
Was this it, then? Kari thought. Would he go across that divide here, in an alley, with a Turkish fisherman? If so, he was ready.
The Turk was already rocking his pelvis against Kari's groin, with a hand down there feeling the young man up as well, ready to do a bit or rearranging and fucking him right there, right then, against the wall.
The Arab-English youth was aching for it too. But he could see out of the corner of his eye that his father and the Dane were rising from their table, ready to return to the Dome Hotel and fuck the night away. They'd be coming to look for him. He didn't want to be the cause of a brawl between men who could best be put to use fucking him.
The Turk noticed the movement too and stiffened.
