Picture this: I was living on a remote hotel on a far-off Greek island for a month. This sounds like Mamma Mia, but it’s not fiction. This island wasn’t Mykonos or Santorini, not one of the ones you’ll see in post-cards. It was visited mostly by Greeks–and the other Americans on the program that I, too, had signed up for.
This was the last week of the program. By then, everyone who was going to hook up with someone else already had, and I had not. Plus, I had a roommate, so was feeling very, uh, unsatisfied, in that I had no privacy.
I think all of those factors combined in me feeling much braver than usual. Braver to decide what I wanted, and then actually go after it. Usually, I waited for guys to approach me. Not that night.
It was a Friday, which meant the hotel’s restaurant was crowded enough that they had to hire some other locals to help out. One of them was this man, Giannis (which means John in Greek). He worked as a waiter, and later joined the band as a guitarist.
He was older than I was by almost a decade, and I was instantly drawn to him. It’s not that he was extremely good looking. He wasn’t. He was appealing, though, with a full beard, and a solid body. It’s more that he was new. We hadn’t seen someone outside of our group in days. And there he was.
So I started, first, with a game. I made sure that everywhere he went, my eyes were on him. I wanted him to know that I was looking at him. That he was on my mind. Then, I made sure to stay up.
In Greece, dinners last forever. it’s not unusual for a restaurant to stay open until 1 or 2 in morning. I decided not to retreat to my room as I had, other nights. Instead I waited until dessert was served to every last table, I waited for the band to wind down and start playing acoustic songs. I waited until there was just a small group of us left, gathered under the same table.
I pulled out the open seat next to him and sat down. All of us late-nighters were all squished together in this long rectangular table. The tablecloth hung low enough that my hands were free to roam as they pleased. There was only one thing to do next: Make contact.
Underneath the table, I brushed my right hand against his left knee. He didn’t acknowledge my hand, so I immediately moved it back to my own lap. I think I got timid for a second—I’d never actually seduced anyone outright, or made the first move. But then I placed my hand back on his knee, so he knew that it was deliberate. He got the message, as I’d hoped. He started running his fingers down my leg.
We hadn’t spoken a word to each other, but we were already on the same page.
His fingers explored my hand, first, turning it up and down and over. Our fingers intertwined briefly, but he was restless. His hand moved to other parts of my body. It was summer, so there was a lot on display to explore. Around the table, everyone else was distracted by the guitar player, and I was distracted by his hands stroking my leg to the rhythm. They started to move off my hand and toward my thigh.
I knew, then, that it was time to take this little dance to the next level. For the next two minutes, I tried to come up with a line that could casually express what I wanted from him, without being TOO forward. Then I remembered: It was a full moon that night, and the view was perfect off the veranda.
“I’m going to look at the moon,” I said, getting up from the table. I hoped he would get the message to follow me.
The minute I spent waiting for him seemed to last forever. Was I imagining things? Or did he really want me, too? Then, I heard footsteps and turned around. It was him. We both stood at the edge of the porch and stared at the moon over the sea.
“Let’s go down there,” I said, pointing to the cliff down by the sea. “It’ll be more quiet.”
He followed me down the moonlit stairs.
From there, what we wanted from each other was definite and obvious. We came together like our bodies were magnets. His kiss was hungry, a searching tongue. I was taken aback by how passionate he was. Clearly, his desire had been slowly building over the course of the night.
“You were driving me crazy,” he said, pulling away from my face. His hands were in my hair.
“You noticed?” I asked, smiling.
“Of course,” he said. His English was just good enough to exchange a few sentences—and that’s all we needed.
We kept making out by the sea, dangerously close to the road. Luckily the island was so quiet there were no cars going by. Not yet. We perched on a gigantic rock with a big view of the sea. The roadside was so dark that people on top of the restaurant couldn’t see us, even as they gathered on the porch.
Things were getting hot and heavy. I loved how much he wanted me. That was even sexier than he was. Just knowing that he was burning up for me.
I wanted to do everything for him. Sometimes I can’t believe what I did next.
I slid down the rock and I got on my knees. Yes, I got on my knees by the side of the road. Unzipped his pants. Took out his hard cock. And started sucking him, right then and there. He moaned and grabbed the back of my head. “But they can see,” he said.
I shrugged. I was leaving the island in two days. If they thought I was a slut, then they were right. I looked up at him. Even in the middle of the night, he could see how much I wanted him–I wanted him to want me. I kept going, making moaning noises. Then a car drove by. Surely, they saw us in the headlights, because they honked. I kept going. And going. I sucked on top of his cock and moved my hand on the base. He shot his load into my mouth and smiled.
Two days later, on my last night, he returned for again , this time for a shorter shift. We made knowing eye contact. I met him in the kitchen during his shift and he kissed me and grabbed my ass from underneath my short summer dress. I told him to meet me later.
When he was done with work, he was just getting started with me. He pressed me up against the wall at the side of the restaurant and we started making out again. I think he was turned on by the idea of other people seeing us–his friends seeing us, like they may have the other night.
That’s the thing: This place was short on privacy. We couldn’t go to my room, because my roommate was already asleep, and I doubted she’d be into a threesome. But my bed came with a fluffy, large blanket that I kicked off every night because it was too hot. I told him to wait as I got the blanket and a condom or two.
Slinging the blanket over my shoulder, I met him and led him out into the wild fields at the back of the hotel. The grass grew in large, dry stalks—not the kind of grass you can lay in, like in the States. The blanket made it bearable, but I still could feel spikes. So that small patch of blanket was like a little raft.
It would do.
I straddled him and started making out with him. Here, it was so quiet you could only hear the chorus of bugs and far-off laughter. And it was so dark that we decided to get naked. Summer in Greece is hot, and so the heat of night is a blanket of its own. I was wrapped up in the warmth of the evening and his skin.
Straddling him, I felt his cock grow beneath me. I reached over and started playing with it, mere inches away from my pussy. I know he wanted to grab me and thrust inside, but he had some self control.
“Do you have a…” He seemed embarrassed, like he couldn’t finish the sentence.
I pulled out the condom, which I had bought in the U.S.—just in case something happened.
He looked shocked by how prepared I was. Guess he thought I was a good girl. Heck, I thought I was a good girl, for a while. Turned out I was not, nor did I want to be.
I let him put the condom on himself and when he was done, immediately lowered myself onto his cock. I hadn’t been fucked in months. And I hadn’t ever been fucked outside, in a field, beneath the stars, being held by an almost stranger who seemed in awe of me. I rode him with all of that inside me. First I went up and down slowly, savoring the feeling of a cock within my pussy, feeling so full. He moved his body in tandem with mine so we were feeding off each other’s momentum, rocking.
Then i started to go faster. The thing was, I wanted to be in control. And I got it. I put my hands on either side of his body and buried my head into his chest. I rode his cock harder and harder.
I wish he could’ve lasted longer. But i get it, given the circumstances. They were hot. A few seconds later, he looked at me and moaned. He came in my pussy.
We put our clothes back on and walked back to the hotel, sweaty and clearly freshly fucked. We kissed and I told him goodbye. I never saw him again—but I think of him a lot.
I left that interaction feeling so empowered. And it was enough to fuel the rest of my adventures abroad that summer. Let’s just say that wasn’t the last time I seduced someone.