We spread the blanket out under a tree, on the edge of the flat area that had once been the jousting field, below the ruins of Saint Hilarion Castle on the heights of the Kyrenia Range overlooking the northern coast of the Mediterranean in what was now Turkish Cyprus. I had picked up the young Turk as I was driving up the mountain in the UN sedan I was using to search for one of our lost soldiers. I was a military policeman in the Danish contingent of the UN peacekeeping force on Cyprus. Max had been gone and out of touch since the previous night. He had last been seen in the harbor down in Kyrenia, the ancient Byzantine castle town the Turks called Girne.
The young Turk--he told me his name was Errol--was a soldier from the base down the slope from Saint Hilarion's, one of a chain of watch castles that had been built along the summits of the Kyrenia Range in the time of Richard the Lionhearted. Errol's officers would skin him alive if they knew he was cavorting with a UN military policeman. They'd do no less just to learn that he was off the base for anything but carrying out explicit orders.
I could tell he was a soldier from his uniform. Otherwise, I wouldn't have thought him old enough to be in the military. I guess they took them young in the Turkish army. He'd said he was from the Turkish mainland, not from here, in Turkish Cyprus. He was small and trim, olive-complexioned, cute as hell, with a shy smile and curly black hair, a lock of which dangled down from his forehead, seeking to hide his left eye. His eyes were dark and flashed an interest I understood only too well. I'll bet he was the pet of his barracks.
Cyprus was the land of men who either fucked hard or opened their legs and begged for it. I had found that more than the normal percentage of them would go either way--that for them sex was sex was sex. I'd been told that young Greek men could cover and get sucked by Greek gay boys with no one considering they were being gay as well, going, I guess, back to ancient Greece, where it was accepted that pederasty was an honored teacher-student relationship. I wondered if it was the same with Turks. I thought about that, because I could go either way myself. A hole was a hole was a hole--although I did prefer a young guy's hole.
The young Turkish soldier batted his eyelashes at me when I pulled up beside him, on his bike, coming up the mountain to the castle. I'd been told Max might be up here, at the castle. He'd been carousing in Kyrenia with a group of Turkish Cypriots, and I'd gotten a picnic meal down in the city to bring up here with me to take a break in looking for him.
Errol had asked me if I was a UN soldier, which I clearly was unless I'd stolen a UN-marked car and a UN contingent uniform, and he was impressed that I was Danish. Being Scandinavian in Cyprus got you to at least second base with your prey. He also said he was impressed that I was a bulked-up Dane. He said I was handsome. He also said he was lonely being away from Turkey.
He didn't ask me how big my dick was, but I knew that's the question he really wanted to ask.
"I shouldn't be talking to a UN soldier," he'd said, looking nervously around.
"Well, follow me, and we'll go where no one will see us talking--or doing anything else," I'd answered.
I'd figured he was fifty-fifty whether he'd follow me on his bike. He did.
He lay back on the blanket after we'd eaten and finished off the second bottle of Chankaya wine and, after I'd answered the size question for him, gave himself to me. There'd been no need for seduction. He'd made himself naked when he'd lain back on the blanket, and he put himself in position, on his back, legs spread and bent, feet pressed to the blanket, pelvis rolled up. There'd been an unspoken meeting of the minds where this would go when I stopped to talk to him. He looked the type I liked to cover and I'm sure he dreamed about bulked up, hung Danes. I was both. I had exposed what I was hanging to him while we were eating--just unzipped myself, hauled it out, an gave it a couple of strokes--and he hadn't gotten on his bike and peddled away.
Taking my mouth away from between his buttocks cheeks and moving to swallowing his cock, I moved the wicker basket the food had been in over under the small of his back, elevating his pelvis. He was moaning shallowly and panting lightly. There was no resistance. It was all need and surrender.
I ran my hands up his inner thighs and spread them in position again, bending his legs, and setting the soles of his feet down on the blanket, putting him back into the missionary position he'd gone into himself, while we were drinking wine, to signal his willingness. He gave over completely to my maneuvering. This was remarkably easy and he was one sweet piece. I licked up his belly, stopped to worry his nipples and then on up to his waiting lips, as I put myself in position between his thighs.
He arched his back and cried out, "
Çok büyüksün
!--You're so big!
Danimarkalılar canavar boyutundadır
--Danes are monster sized." as I entered him. I took that as a compliment. I also wondered how many Danes he'd given himself to.
Yes, I am. You came on to me because I was a muscled-up Danish soldier. And you're going to love it, I thought, as I begin to pump him.
There was every sign that he loved it. He dug his fingernails into the tips of my shoulders and put his hips into motion, going with me. We were fucking. He dilated nicely, stretching to my specifications, confirming to me that he was the pet of his barracks. He wasn't a virgin. He did this regularly. He knew exactly what to do. He lifted his legs to hugging my hips with his knees and rocked with me in the fuck. He was fully open to me, vulnerable--surrendered and soon conquered.
"
Sik beni. Sik beni. Sik beni sert, seni büyük canavar
!--Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me hard, you big brute!" he cried out.
I complied, taking, first, Errol, and then me to an ejaculation. My release was quite satisfying. I hadn't had it for a couple days. Three loads. No rubber. This young Turk was a sweet peace.
Errol lay there, under me, as we both focused on me going flaccid inside him, both of us panting.
"
Böyle bir kaba. Ne kadar kaba
--Such a brute. Such a brute," he kept whimpering, but we both knew it was a brute he had wanted. He had moved with me in synch with the fuck and had lain there, relaxed in my arms, sighing, as I'd shot my load, again and again, deep inside him. He'd reveled, I knew, in being topped by a big, bulked-up Dane. Something that must rarely have happened to him, if ever before.
"
Çok büyüksün
--You're so big," he was murmuring, a whimpering tone enveloped in the whisper. "
