Excerpt for Porn Star Brothers: Box Set by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

PORN STAR BROTHERS


DELUXE EDITION BOXED SET



L.J. Diva




Chances is an imprint of Royal Star Publishing

www.royalstarpublishing.com.au

www.ljdiva.com


All Rights Reserved, Copyright

Deluxe Edition Boxed Set, 2017, L.J. Diva

Carlos, Pedro and Tomas previously released in 2016

Retribution previously released in 2017


Published by Royal Star Publishing


Cover design: Royal Star Publishing

Cover photos: CURAphotography/Shutterstock


This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, situations and most places are constructs of the author's imagination. Any references to real people or real locales are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental, or on purpose, much to the author's amusement.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the publisher. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy.

The right of L.J. Diva to be identified as the author of her work has been asserted. The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read her work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or tell your friends about it to help us spread the word.

Requests to publish work from this book should be sent to: LJD@ljdiva.com




*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*




TIMELINE


CARLOS, June 1977

CARLOS, August 1977

CARLOS, September 1977

CARLOS, October 1977


PEDRO, June 1977

PEDRO, July 1977

PEDRO, September 1977

PEDRO, October 1977


TOMAS, July, 1977

TOMAS, August, 1977

TOMAS, October, 1977


RETRIBUTION, October 1977


Dedications

About The Author

Other Titles

Connect Online




*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*




CARLOS, June 1977



Ohhh, Carlos, you’re such a stud...ugh…ugh…ugh.” The blonde Australian girl groaned as she lay underneath the five-foot-ten frame of the man fucking her. She was losing her mind. No man had ever made her orgasm this way before. In fact, no man had ever made her orgasm; period.

Carlos Stephanopoulos made one final thrust into the young girl beneath him and casually rolled off, running his hand through his silken shoulder length golden brown hair that was as thick as any stud’s hair should be. Sweat trickled from his brow as he leant back against the pile of pillows behind him, and he grabbed a bottle of beer from the bedside table and took a swig.

Oh, Carlos.” The blonde snuggled up to him, stroking his manly golden chest. “That was so good.” She pulled his arm around her but he pulled it back.

After flinging the sheet back from the bed, he grabbed his shorts from the floor and pulled them on. “Glad you think so.” His accent was a healthy mix of Greek and Australian, having been born and raised in the land down under.

His father, Spiros, had immigrated to Australia in 1950 where he met Jenny, the young Australian girl he would later propose to and marry. They had Carlos nine months after the wedding with his brothers soon following, and they led a very Australian life in a small town inland from the coast of New South Wales.

When Carlos was fourteen, his father packed them up and moved them all to Greece because his father had died, leaving Spiros Stephanopoulos the family business.

At first, Carlos and his brothers hated being wrenched away from the only home they’d known, but while the hankering for Australia stayed with them, they had grown to love Greece, especially the islands of Mykonos and Santorini where they spent their summers, with Carlos getting it on with every bit of skirt he could get his hands on. Oh, yes, their Greek island home was certainly providing a bountiful plethora of young, tanned and incredibly gullible beauties.

Carlos slid on his tank top with the resort’s logo on the left breast. He worked at the biggest resort on Mykonos as a summer fill-in and fill in he did. He filled all the girls he could and enjoyed himself immensely. No commitment, no worries. Just summers filled with hot blaring sun and hot horny women.

Of course, sometimes he dipped into the pool of older female tourists and of course, they insisted on paying him for his time and energy. The first time that had happened he’d been shocked that a woman was offering him money for services rendered. But after hearing the other workers at the resort say the older ladies liked to pay for extra services, he had dipped his cock more frequently, and now older women were a regular thing and it paid well. The young ones…well, they were just a bit of fluff on the side.

Ah, the Greek islands…so full of beautiful, wealthy women. It was a great place to live!

“Carlos,” purred the girl who was young, lithe and full of bounce. “Let’s do that again.” She knelt on the bed behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, sliding her hand into his shorts.

He grabbed her hand, removed it, and gave it back to her. “That’s enough. I need to get back to work.” He stepped into his sandals and headed for the door to the holiday apartment she shared with her friends.

They were on holiday from Australia and Carlos had liked chatting with them to get word from back home, hearing how things had changed since he’d been there. But sometimes, younger girls could be clingy, and this one was being clingy right now.

“Carlos…”

He stopped and turned in the doorway.

She stood naked at the end of the bed. “Don’t you want more of this?” Her left forefinger was on her lips while her right hand slid into the bushy thatch between her legs.

The sight of her doing that turned him off. “Nah, I’m done.”

Why do so many girls try so hard? he thought as he strode down the cobbled walkways of Mykonos. They come off so desperately needy, yet the older women always have so much more confidence. Not necessarily as much stamina, but far more confidence than he’d ever seen in any of the young girls he bedded.

He made it back to the resort just as his lunch break was over and took his position at the spray booth. He always had long lines of beautiful women waiting to be sprayed down with coconut oil before baking to a crisp in the sun. At two dollars a pop, he kept half of what he earned, and it was a thriving business all on its own. Like now, there had been no one waiting at the tent when he’d walked up, but now people, mainly gorgeous women and a few gay men he recognised, were swarming into a line that weaved down the beach waiting for his magic hands to do their work.

“Who’s up for a spray?” he called out and received cheers in return. “Well, hello lovely lady, step right over here and turn around slowly.” He led his first customer to the left of the tent where everyone stood on a round mat on the sand. He sprayed her down as she turned and accepted her two dollars with a kiss on the hand when they were done.

“Thank you so much, Carlos,” the pale redhead from England said and sighed. “Will you be giving massages later?” She eyed off his golden tanned Adonis body, licking her lips, or at least trying to, in a seductive way. All it did was make her look like the child she was.

“I’ll be in the massage cabana tonight.” He led her out of the tent. “Next.”

Oh, Carlos.” A voluptuous Columbian woman known as Connie stepped onto the mat. “Will you save a special massage for me later?” She stood straight with her shoulders back so her large breasts were front and centre.

And they were quite delightful breasts as Carlos had found out two nights ago when she’d come for a massage and showed him exactly where and how he should massage her. And he’d massaged her all the way to an orgasm for which she’d paid extra.

“Connie, my Luv.” His Aussie accent was strong this year as his grandparents had come over for a month. It was winter back in Australia and they’d wanted to see their grandchildren. Desperate for anything from back home, they’d spent so much time with each other that their old Australian speech pattern was in full force. Not that they’d ever completely picked up Greek, but it had influenced the way he and his brothers spoke. His bright blue eyes twinkled. “Do you want me to take you to heaven tonight?” He sprayed her down as she turned.

“Oh, yes, Carlos.” Her Columbian accent came thick and fast as black tendrils of hair gently hung down from the riot of curls captured on top of her head. “I want you to come and massage me tonight. I pay well.” She handed over her money. “For golden stud like you, I pay very well.” She wandered off leaving him blushing furiously.

Not that a man should be blushing but when you’re twenty-four and have the world at your feet, having older women hit on you was quite a learning curve. Especially since it was older women who’d taught him most of what he knew.

He’d sprayed down three more women and accepted their money when the dirty old perve, Leon Spenter, stepped onto the mat.

“Hello, Carlos,” Leon purred.

Carlos looked at the sixty-something man in his tiny leopard swim briefs, wrinkled and sagging over-tanned skin, and grey thinning hair. “Leon, how are you today?” he asked as he sprayed, keeping his facial expression neutral.

“Oh…delightful.” Leon licked his wrinkled burnt lips. “All the more for seeing you my Greek Adonis.”

“Only half Greek,” Carlos reminded him, holding out his hand for the money.

Leon pretended to hand it over but snatched his hand back. “Half Greek or not you’re still an Adonis, Carlos.” He eyed the hard, muscled, tanned body of Carlos Stephanopoulos; his long, swept-back golden-brown hair, bright blue eyes, kissable lips, and a light sprinkling of chest hair underneath his tank top. “Carlos.” He licked his lips again. “You’re spraying oil on people and yet here you are wearing clothes. Shouldn’t you be shirtless too?”

Carlos sighed. The fags could be the worst, especially when they thought he swung both ways even though he told them he didn’t. However, they kept insisting he should and didn’t like paying for anything until they got what they wanted out of him. Which they didn’t. So they always left disappointed. “Pay up, Leon, or don’t come back,” he snapped. “You’re holding up the line.”

Leon saw the Greek temper flare and reluctantly handed over the money. “Just having a little bit of fun my dear, is all.”

“Go have your fun somewhere else,” Carlos said, waving the next person into the tent. “I have a business to run.” He turned his back on Leon and kept working. God, what is it with some of these people? he thought and went into robot mode. He saw, he sprayed, he collected money, but now he didn’t care for what he was doing and couldn’t wait for the afternoon to be over. Sure his reputation for being a stud had gotten all over the island, and sure he enjoyed most of it, especially the getting paid well part, but the rest of it could be so mundane.

At five o’clock he closed the tent flaps and put up the closed sign, much to the disappointment and murmurs of the line that was still going strong with a few repeat customers. But it was knock off time. He turned off his sprayer and shut up for the night then proceeded to count the day’s takings. Two thousand two hundred dollars; not bad for an afternoon’s work. He slipped one thousand into a bag for the resort manager, one thousand into a bag for him to take to the bank, and slipped the two hundred into his pocket. He always kept the leftovers, and there were plenty of them, but he never told the boss about them. They were the little extras he kept for himself.

It was a great life, working and living in Greece. He worked in his father’s meat shop late fall through winter and into early spring and lived it up on the beach for the rest of the time. Six months in the shop slicing up raw meat, and six months of sunbathing and hot women wanting hot sex. It was a great life all right, and a great job. Bartending in the morning, spraying in the afternoon, and massaging all night. It was a career he’d had for the last six years since his eighteenth birthday, and it paid so well, much better than his father’s shop, that he’d saved up plenty from all the extra-curricular activities.

And of course, what the tax man didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. After all, what would he put on his tax form? Sex worker? Prostitute? Lover? Fighter? Resort worker and butcher shop assistant were all he put. The tax man didn’t need to know anything else.

Carlos made it home by five-thirty for a shower and a change of clothes. Pedro and Tomas, his brothers, were already there doing the same thing, and all were waiting for their father to get home from the shop.

Hey, Mama.” After kissing his mother on the cheek, he popped a cherry tomato from the salad on the kitchen counter into his mouth. “Grandma.” Bending down to kiss her at the table, he asked, “So, what did you guys do today?” before sitting down himself.

Pedro came into the kitchen in his usual white pants and tank, having slept all day after working all night. He was four years younger than Carlos and had the best of both heritages; sharp blue eyes from their mother, and jet black hair from their father. A lethal combination on a well-muscled young stud and all the girls knew it. So did Pedro.

“Is dinner nearly ready?” Pedro asked high-fiving Carlos and then kissing his mother and grandmother.

“Just waiting for your father,” Jenny replied, checking the lamb in the oven.

Pedro grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge. “Carlos, want one?”

Carlos looked in his brother’s direction. “Yeah.”

Pedro got out two and handed one over before sitting down next to him on their side of the table. Whenever there were guests, the boys all sat on one side of the table while the guests had the other.

Tomas strolled in from his shower and joined them. The middle son, he looked just like their father; tall, lean, but well-muscled, with jet black hair, piercing black eyes, and a spread of jet black hair across his well-toned chest that trailed down to his navel. He was also the quiet one in the family.

“My, how you all look so much like your parents,” their grandmother, Sarah, said.

At that moment Spiros Stephanopoulos walked through the door carrying half a frozen lamb on his shoulder. “Is there room in the freezer?” he asked Jenny before walking down the hall into the laundry slash extra kitchen where they had a small walk-in freezer. He’d installed it when he took over the family business and they’d moved into his parents’ house. He dumped the lamb on a shelf and walked back into the kitchen. Everyone looked at him in disdain. “What?” He looked down and saw his apron and clothes were meat and blood soaked.

“There is no way you’re sitting down to dinner like that.” Jenny pushed him toward the bedroom. “Go take a shower, dinner’s nearly ready.”

With a cheeky flick of his wife’s behind and a wink to his three manly sons, Spiros went to shower. He was still a fine-looking man at the age of fifty-two, and at fifty-two he still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have met such an amazing woman in Jenny. And still he couldn’t believe she’d taken a chance on him; the immigrant Greek boy who’d sailed the seas in 1950 to a little country on the other side of the world known as Australia.

He’d landed in Sydney by himself, being the only one in his family to make the trip to a new promised land, and had met her within minutes as she was one of the helpers at the dock directing strangers to the places they needed to go. And it had been easy to direct him as the distant relatives he was staying with lived right next door to her.

Over the next year, she had taught him English and fallen in love with him, accepted his marriage proposal, and married him after he’d set himself up in a butcher’s shop. Meat was all he knew; having grown up in his father’s butcher shop, and so he quickly took over this new one, becoming the manager within a year which was good because Jenny gave birth to Carlos and the extra money was helpful.

He was also eternally grateful that she had agreed to move halfway around the world when his father died. It meant he needed to take over the family business and Jenny had urged him to go. Now, here they were ten years after moving back, and she still stuck it out with him, and he made it up to her every year by inviting her family members to stay for the summer. It also helped the boys keep in touch with their Australian roots.

Spiros quickly dried off and dressed, making it to the table just as the lamb came out of the oven. “Smells good.” He watched Jenny place the pan in front of him and carved it up. “Let’s eat.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes before getting into a review of the day.

“You boys have a good day at work?” Jenny asked.

Carlos and Pedro exchanged wicked grins, but Tomas just sat quietly.

“Absolutely,” Carlos said. “This resort thing is paying well.”

“Better than the shop?” Spiros asked, spearing a piece of lamb with his fork.

All three boys glanced at him. This routine was nothing new. He asked every time their mother did, and they answered the same way every time.

“Yes, Papa, it pays better,” Carlos replied.

“Much better,” Pedro added. He was becoming a bit of a stud in his own right, and was earning as much money DJing four nights a week on Santorini as he figured Carlos did at the resort.

“Well, I hope you’re saving that money for your own home one day,” Spiros went on. “And not wasting it on frivolous things like women.” He knew his sons had his Greek blood in them, and the stories that made it back to him made his hair curlier than it already was. Especially the stories about Carlos. Although he was secretly proud of having a stud for a son, the things he heard he could sometimes do without hearing.

“Yes, Papa.” Carlos and Pedro knew not to wind him up as he had a temper when the need arose.

“Good. You’ll be able to look after your parents when they’re old then.” Spiros grinned wickedly, the same grin his sons had.

The boys rolled their eyes.

“In your dreams,” Pedro said. “I’ve got my life to live and the rest of it to pay for. I need all the money I can get. Carlos can look after you, he’s the oldest.”

“Geez, thanks,” Carlos drawled and finished off his beer.

They chatted their way through dessert and then the boys left for their night shifts. All three worked hard. While Pedro did only night shifts, it was still a gruelling eight to twelve hours long. Carlos and Tomas worked all day and then worked a night shift until midnight.

Mykonos was great that way. People swam and sunbaked all day while the sun was up, but when the sun went down all they wanted to do was party. Money flowed, beer flowed, drugs flowed, sex flowed, and Carlos was off to the resort to be masseur for the night and make sure the sex and money kept on flowing.

He strolled into the cabana to find Gary, the hot young Australian, finishing off for the day.

“Glad ya made it, mate,” he said with a flick of his blond locks. “I’m pooped, gonna have a drink and hit the sack.”

“With a woman?” Carlos got a pile of towels ready.

“Or a man.” Gary winked and strode off into the night, all six foot five and tanned and ready for anything.

“Oh, Carlos,” Connie sang through the curtain.

“I’m not open yet, Connie, you’ll have to wait a few minutes.” He laid out the new sheet on the bed.

Well, I am open Carlos and ready to be massaged by your long, strong…fingers…”

Carlos frowned and grinned at the same time. As much as he loved getting paid for his job, and loved bedding women each and every night, sometimes it was a bit overbearing.

“You’ll just have to wait, Connie.” He spread rose petals on the bed, lit candles and made sure the thick curtains were closed. He couldn’t have people catching him in the act of servicing all of these women or he’d be out on his rear.

Checking his watch he let Connie in, marking her off the booking sheet. Every massage had to be booked in so they knew how long for each, and so customers weren’t just waiting at the curtain ready to come in. That’s why the cabana was in a private area of the resort, only frequented by guests when they were let in. Few staff came and went so Carlos had not been caught.

Yet.

He closed the curtains after checking to see if anyone was around and found Connie naked on the bed. “Connie,” he admonished. “You know we start off slow and build up to the crescendo.”

Oh, I know.” She bent her knees and spread her legs. “But I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

He stood between her legs and closed them. “On your stomach first.”

She groaned. “Do I have to?” The Columbian woman was full in every sense, from her voluptuous bosoms to her voluptuous thatch, curved hips, strong thighs, and an even stronger vagina.

Clearly, she did her Kegels every day.

“On yer stomach,” Carlos said and crossed his arms. “Time’s money and you’re wasting precious moments.”

Connie quickly rolled over, and Carlos mounted the table, sitting on her buttocks to massage her shoulders.

“Oh…Carlos…” She groaned, gripping the sides of the table.

He slowly ran his fingers up her spine and across her shoulders to loosen the muscles, doing this for several minutes before making his way down her legs until he was standing at the end of the table, massaging her calves, her ankles, her feet, hitting the pressure spots of pleasure.

“Oh, God, Carlos, take me, fuck me.”

Carlos knew she was ready, and so was he. Pushing down his shorts, he set his erection free and allowed it solace in the one spot it awaited. Snapping on a condom, he grabbed Connie by the ankles, yanked her down the table until her lower half was barely hanging off the bed, and proceeded to fill her aching soul.

“Oh, Carlos, oh God yes,” she groaned, burying her head in the bed and grasping the sides of it until her knuckles went white.

His hands continued their massage, his penis joined in. Up her spine his fingers went while he matched the movement inside her. Down his fingers came to her backside as he withdrew. Up her spine again, and down her spine again. Over and over.

“Oh, God, Carlos, now, now oh, God now,” Connie panted.

His thrusts became fast and furious, grunting into her until he was done and she was screaming his name.

They collapsed on the table, still entwined, but Carlos soon pulled out and cleaned up. Sweat trickled down his face and he pushed his hair back.

Oh, Carlos…”

He turned to see Connie sitting on the end of the bed.

“Come, my darling.” Her arms were outstretched and her bosoms inviting. Carlos was enveloped into her embrace as she pushed his tank top over his head and let it fall to the floor. His shorts followed. She pulled him close and rubbed herself over him. The feel of his hot Adonis body against her no longer youthful one felt refreshing. Her breasts remained hardened against his chest, and his hard-on came back. “Carlos, oh, Carlos,” she whispered. “Take me, take me again.”

He took her on the edge of the table, with hard grunting thrusts until he was done and she was on her back, remaining inside as she grabbed his hands and placed them on her breasts.

“Squeeze.” He squeezed. So did she and he hardened again. “Squeeze.”

They played the game until they both came and both stopped squeezing.

“No more.” Carlos stumbled back, panting. He was done, and she was only his first customer. Checking his watch, he saw her time was up and quickly dressed, saying, “Time to go, Connie,” before brushing his hair back.

Go, Carlos? Oh, no, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve booked you out for the whole night. Come to me, Carlos, let’s see if you have the stamina to please Constance DeLuca all night. If you can, there is big money in it for you.”

Looking at her open arms and open legs he cocked a brow. “Big money?”

Very big money.”

He stripped off. “All right then.”


*****


Carlos could barely walk the next morning when he turned up for bartending duties.

“Whoa, dude,” Antonio said when he spied Carlos. “What happened to you?” He finished making the drink and handed it over to the sexy young thing at the bar.

She winked and waved her fingers at Antonio and then saw Carlos. Her eyes went wide and she stopped sipping her drink which was just as well since she wasn’t looking where she was going due to her attention being diverted to the hot bartender that had just arrived. She tripped, her face went into shock, and she fell face first into the sand.

“Oops.” Antonio raced around the bar to help her to her feet. “Are you all right, miss?” Antonio picked up the glass once she was standing.

“Oh,” she cried in a British accent. “I feel so stupid.”

“No, no,” Antonio soothed. “Women lose their mind when they see Carlos. I’ll get you another drink.” He helped her to a bar stool and quickly made another margarita. Taking it back to her he saw her eyeing Carlos off who was serving another customer. “Here you go…ma’am.”

She finally noticed he was there and blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you…” Accepting the drink her eyes travelled up and down his muscular frame.

“Most women don’t,” Antonio replied dryly.

“How much?” she asked.

“For what? Carlos?”

She blushed harder. “The drink.”

“Oh.” Now it was Antonio’s turn to blush. “It’s on the house. Since you had an accident and all.”

“Oh.” The redness deepened and her eyes became hooded. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

“I’ll just…” She moved and pointed to her friends who all stood wide-eyed and giggling.

“Right.” Antonio smiled and waved at her friends whose eyes grew wider and they all blushed.

“Um, thanks.”

“No problems.”

“Um, bye.”

“Bye.”

“I’ll just…” She backed away from him only to nearly trip again.

“Whoa, careful.” Antonio grabbed her before she could fall.

“Oh, um, thanks…” Gazing up at him knowing she was beet red, she felt dizzy. Dizzy over this manly man touching her.

“That’s okay. Don’t forget sunscreen.”

“What?”

“You’re red.” He waved a finger at her wavy hair. “You don’t want to burn in this hot, heady Greek sun.” If he played his cards right, he might score with this girl by the end of the day. It’s not like Carlos should have all the fun. Right?

“Um, thanks, I’ll put it on.” She reluctantly turned and with a wave walked over to her friends who all started teasing her about the hot bartender helping her.

Antonio waved to all of them and got back to work. It was not as if he wasn’t good-looking. He was the son of Spanish and Columbian parents so was full of brooding dark good looks and hot and spicy personality. He’d had no complaints in the bed department either, but when Carlos was around, he got fewer women perving at him and more women asking for Carlos’s phone number. He felt like a dud next to the Greek god even though he, Antonio Stephano DeLuca, had been the stud in his high school and college. Growing up half Spanish, half Columbian and being raised in Spain, he’d been celebrated for being his father’s son and for being so damned gorgeous. Now, here, he seemed to be a nobody. Even though his father was big time bullfighter Stephano DeLuca, name dropping him got him nowhere. Especially on the Greek islands every summer where he came to work while his mother played it up.

Yes, he knew his parents had an open marriage, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. After all, they were both in their fifties but sick of each other and of having sex with the same partner all the time. That’s why they had lovers on the side. It was a fact Antonio tried to forget.

He made it back to the bar. “Did you see that little hottie? I think she’s into me.” He picked up a towel and wiped down the bar, gazing in the direction of the girls who he noticed occasionally looked back.

“Could be, man.” Carlos served up two beers and three margaritas. “She certainly noticed you after she fell over.”

Antonio smirked. “Are you saying she didn’t notice me before that?”

Carlos grinned back. “You did see her looking at me, right?”

“Nah, man. She wasn’t looking at you at all,” Antonio joked. There was an edge to his voice because quite frankly, he was sick of not getting any attention when Carlos was around. It’s as if he was suddenly invisible and the only man on the planet was Carlos. “So, what’s with the weird walk this morning? Hard night was it?”

Carlos thought back. Connie had worked him hard all night and paid him handsomely for it. Ten thousand dollars for four hours work. All cash under the table. She’d told him he was worth it; he’d grinned and hidden the money in his private stash when he’d gotten home. “Yeah, man, I was hard all night. Got worked real hard.” He cracked open a bottle of champagne and poured five glasses.

“By some hot young thing?” Antonio didn’t particularly care for Carlos’s exploits, but a part of him always wanted to know the gritty details just to see whether he was missing out on any pussy that was in town.

“Nah, man, your mother!” Carlos joked and pulled out more glasses from under the counter.

Antonio blinked. “You screwed my mother?”

Carlos glanced over at him and saw his expression. “Joke, dude!”

Antonio blinked again. “Oh, right. Coz you know, my mother actually is in town.”

Carlos stopped what he was doing. “Your mother’s in town?”

“Yeah.” Antonio served up a wine. “Constance Philomena Stephanova Constinopolous DeLuca. I’d be surprised if you haven’t met her already.”

“Connie?” Carlos stopped dead. “Connie’s your mother?”


*****


“Oh, darling, I have found the perfect stud. He is pleasing all of my needs and does it to me almost every night.” Connie DeLuca spoke down the line to her friend Harriet DeVille in L.A.

Harriet was the wife of bigwig porno producer Harry DeVille, and everyone always joked about them being Harry and Harriet. “How big is he?” she asked.

“Big enough to fill me ten times over,” Connie replied.

“But how…bigis he?”

“Oh, you mean cock size? About ten inches.”

Harriet drew a breath. “And what does the rest of him look like?”

“Five-foot-ten, long golden brown hair, blue eyes, golden brown tan, muscles from here to there…”

“Would he be good enough for us?”

“Oh, darling, he’d be good enough for everyone.”

Well, maybe I should fly out there and take a look?”

Connie bristled. No one was taking her man while she was in town. “No, no, darling, he is much too busy. You stay and deal with your business, but if he’s ever out your way, I’ll recommend you.”

There was silence.

“Are you trying to keep him all to yourself, Connie?”

“He’s hardly all mine,” Connie replied. “I don’t think I’m the only one he services.”

“Is he using protection?”

“Of course.”

“At least he has the brains to do that.”

“And the head!”

They laughed.


*****


Antonio looked at his surprise. “Yeah, that’s what people call her, why?” He didn’t like what his gut was telling him.

Carlos tried not to let his panic show. “Uh, there’s a Connie that comes for a spray every afternoon…oil spray…average height, black curls piled on her head, accent, big…” He held his hands in front of his chest. “Ah…” He lowered his hands.

Antonio raised a brow. “Yeah, that’s my mother.” He stepped towards Carlos and poked his chest. “And you stay away from her.”

Carlos put his hands up in defeat and backed away. “I’ve not gone near her,” he lied, which he had gotten quite good at doing after all the years of being a lothario. “Just oil spray man, nothing else.” He watched Antonio back away and turned around. Taking a deep breath, he quietly let it out and got back to work. He’d need to be careful from now on.


*****


That night, as he was massaging the back of a thirty-something starlet, Carlos thought back to Connie and Antonio. There was no way he could ever find out, and he’d already warned Connie that afternoon when she’d come for her spray.

He knows we know each other,” he’d said.

Who knows?” She’d delighted in his presence.

Antonio, your son. I work with him,” Carlos had said angrily in low tones. “I didn’t know you two were related and thank God I never mentioned this to anyone.”

“You work with Antonio here at the resort?” Her eyes had mischievously twinkled. “I didn’t know he worked at this one. I knew he was somewhere on the islands. Well, what do you know? You work with him every day, and you work me over every night.”

It’s not funny,” he’d hissed. “If he finds out it could get ugly.”

He won’t.” Connie winked and walked away.

He’d fumed about it for the rest of the day and now found himself giving massages once again.

“Is something wrong?”

He blinked and refocussed on the blonde woman before him. “What?”

She was now on her side, posing, one leg bent and moving back and forth to show off the Brazilian wax job she’d had done earlier.

He didn’t like them clean, maybe that was the Greek in him, but he preferred his women with bush. Somehow it made them seem like women instead of the pre-pubescent girls they were trying to be.

“Am I distracting you?” The Hollywood star, to whom he couldn’t put a name, flicked her long blonde tendrils over her right shoulder and rubbed her nipple.

It turned him off. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe her lack of thatch, maybe it was just that the same monotonous women all looked the same. Thin, white, blonde, or sometimes red or brunette, or both, or all three. He preferred exotic sexy types that got his blood racing.

She sat up in front of him and slid to her feet. “Because you’re distracting me.” She slid her fingers over his broad chest and muscular arms before sliding them into his shorts.

He stopped her short with his hand and his piercing gaze. “That will be extra.”

She gazed up into those big blue eyes that penetrated into her soul. Her gut clenched and danced the tango. Her womanhood had been moist since she first laid eyes on him. “How much?”

“One thousand for a quick fuck, two thousand for the hour. All cash, all under the table and off the books.”

She glanced at the delicate gold watch on her left wrist. “Just as well I booked two hours; you have an hour and a half left. That’s three thousand dollars.” She pushed his top up and slid her tongue down his tanned torso. Going to her knees, her mouth went to his erection as she pulled down his pants. She knew how to please a man, had been taught from an early age by her stepdaddy and had every man begging for more. But this one was different. He didn’t want her. She sensed that, and that made it all the more of a rush. Controlling a man that didn’t want her. She took him inside all the way, what was known as deep-throating him.

He groaned, how could he not. It wasn’t often he got sucked and when he did, if it was good; he enjoyed it immensely.

She licked, sucked and swallowed, getting to her feet when she was finished. “You want me now, don’t you?”

He picked her up, threw her on the table, hitched her legs over his shoulders and showed her how much.


*****


“Carlos,” the blonde bimbo from Australia called across the bar. “When are we going to get together again?”

He barely recognised her as his lunchtime conquest from several days previous and couldn’t even come up with a name. “And why would we get together again? Once was more than enough.” He handed a jug of beer to a customer.

The blonde went red. “What do you mean once was enough?” she yelled. “You don’t get to fuck me at lunchtime, and then go back to work and not see me again.” She stood with her hands on her hips, her legs spread, and her face was as red as her teeny tiny almost non-existent bright red bikini.

The crowd went silent. Their eyes flitted back and forth from the furious Barbie doll to the tanned Adonis. It was like a tennis match of mass proportions.

“You don’t get to fuck me and leave me, Carlos. You don’t get to seduce me into your bed and then leave me like a piece of…of…” She looked around for a word to use.

“Crap?” someone offered.

“Yeah, crap,” she said.

Carlos sighed. This wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with an airhead like her; he’d dealt with several since summer started and wondered why he kept getting involved with the same type. He had to play it cool and polite so put down the glass he was wiping. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning on the bar. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I live and work here, you’re a tourist. I told you it wasn’t anything other than a quick fuck and you said okay. And now you’re saying I’ve done you wrong. Well, I’m sorry you see it that way when I was never anything other than truthful.”

“Of course, you told me that.” She reddened, well aware of the crowd staring at her. And it was getting to her. “But I thought it would be different. You would be different.”

“If he told you the truth you didn’t have the right to expect anything more,” an older woman in a black one-piece said. Her face was hidden by her large sunhat and even larger black sunglasses. “And now you’re here attacking him in front of everyone when you are the one in the wrong. He told you how it was; you were the one dumb enough to expect more. You don’t get it both ways, sweetheart.” The woman walked up to the bar. “Vodka martini, two olives, dry.”

But Barbie kept fuming. “And who are you to tell me I’m wrong and dumb?” She marched over to the woman and ripped her hat off.

Luscious brunette waves tumbled down her back and the woman oh so casually turned to the girl and removed her glasses.

Everyone gasped, and the little blonde bimbo stammered, “Oh, my, oh, I’m so sorry Ms Villiers.”

Vivian Villiers was one of the hottest supermodels in the world, and even at forty she still knocked them dead with her killer body and even deadlier smile. Her hair swayed against her ripe, firm buttocks, and her breasts were still natural, high, and well-rounded. She hadn’t had any children, so her body was kept in shape by two hours a day of Pilates, yoga, and swimming. Plus, she drank more than she ate. Food that is. Whereas she ate men for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“My hat?” Vivian held out her hand. “And I am a woman, a real woman, who knows an immature, insecure little brat who doesn’t get her own way when I see one.”

Barbie went deep red and handed over the hat.

“Thank you. NOW, he told you the truth but you refused to accept it. Grow up and move on. I’m sure he’s not the only one who’s been dipping into that pool.” She waved her off. “Run along, little girl.”

The blonde finally moved, moved into a run, and then a sprint as she tried to get as far away from the humiliation as possible. The laughter behind her echoed in her ear until she ran all the way back to her small apartment she shared with her friends. She threw herself on the bed and then just as quickly jumped off. That was where they’d fucked, and where he’d left her, never to return. Oh no, Carlos Spiros Stephanopoulos was not going to do this to her. Not to Barbara Weston, the girl he’d so unceremoniously dumped in high school and then ignored. He was not going to fuck her and leave her. Oh no, he was going to be taught a lesson. And teach him she would.


*****


Vivian Villiers wound her hair up into a bun and covered it with her hat. Replacing her sunglasses, she took her seat at the bar and waved off the admirers that had gathered round. “Please, please, I’m here incognito, and you wouldn’t even know it was me if that girl hadn’t ripped my hat off. Please, let me have my privacy to drink my martini.” She turned her back and sat facing the bar, facing the extremely popular Carlos Stephanopoulos whom she’d heard about from her friend, Harriet DeVille. She’d been on Santorini for the last month, but after hearing about the stud at the resort had booked a room and made her way over by ferry. She crossed her long creamy legs and sipped her drink, watching Carlos as Carlos watched her.

He was serving the other guests but kept glancing at the supermodel at his bar. The gorgeous Viv as she was known, the one he’d had wet dreams about since he was fourteen-years-old, was sitting at his bar sipping his martini. He was flushed. Flushed with adrenaline at the woman of his dreams sitting there, eyeing him off. He hardened and was excited that she might be one of his conquests.

“Hey, Carlos, time for lunch my man.” Antonio came over and Carlos took off. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to get out of there to relieve his hard-on. Having made his way to the massage cabana that was free for a couple of hours at lunchtime, he pulled out his erection to let it run free.

A hand grabbed it from behind.

A female hand.

Carlos turned to see Vivian Villiers behind him.

“Let me,” she rasped and stepped out of her black one-piece in one fluid motion.

He grabbed a condom and had her on the table in seconds, entering her before she had time to wrap her legs around him.

“Oh, ugh, God,” she groaned at every hard thrust. She locked her fingers into his golden locks and locked her legs together to keep him in.

Hard motions sent him forward and her over the edge. Coming to a stop he collapsed on top of her, resting his head in his hand, looking down at the dewy complexion made moist by his thrusting, the shy smile made soft by his coming, and the lips so ripe for the kissing. His fingers gently rubbed her face, his hand taking it within his grasp. He kissed her, soft and slow with just a little bit of tongue.

But she wanted so much more and took his tongue fiercely into her mouth. The kiss was as passionate as the sex and barely came to a stop.

“Oh, Carlos,” she sighed. “You’re as good as they say.”

That intrigued him. “As who say?”

“Harriet DeVille.”

“Who’s she?”

“A friend of Constance DeLuca. Connie told Harriet, Harriet told me.”

“Wait.” He sat up. “You only wanted me because you’ve heard about my exploits?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about being talked about by a bunch of horny old women.

Viv sat up beside him. “Oh, I’ve heard.” She stroked his penis, making it harden. “You are a very attractive young man Carlos and have a lot to offer a woman in that department.”

He gazed into her emerald cat-shaped eyes. They were the most striking thing about her. “Yeah, well, you got a freebie.” He started to get off the massage table but her hand on his arm stopped him.

“And that’s why I booked you all night for a massage.”

He gazed at the beauty before him. Somehow having her pay him made him feel dirty. “Normally I charge two thousand an hour for extracurricular activities, but tonight I’ll meet you in your room instead.”

“In my room?” She stroked his lips with her tongue, thinking how tasty they were.

“Your room,” he said, stroking back. “Because I’ve dreamt about you since I was fourteen and there’s no way I’m going to use my fantasy to fuck you like an animal. Tonight, I’m going to make love to you, all night, and make both of our dreams come true.”


*****


“Carlos Spiros Stephanopoulos get back here right now.”

Carlos heard his father’s yell as he ran into his room. He’d been held back at work and arrived home with only half an hour till his next shift. A shift he couldn’t wait to get to. He dumped his bag and ran back to the lounge room. “Papa, I’ve got half an hour, I need a shower.”

“Work can wait. Sit down,” his father ordered.

“But Pa-”

“Sit!” Spiros raged.

Carlos knew better than to push it once fire spat from his father’s eyes because all three boys knew not to interrupt their parents when a brother was being chastised. He sat on the sofa. “What? What now?”

Jenny sat beside her husband. “A young girl came to us today Carlos and told us a story. A story about what you did to her.”

Uh oh, he thought, better play it cool. “What girl?”

“A young girl by the name of Barbara Weston came to me today and told me, in tears mind you, how you had taken advantage of her.”

Carlos raised a brow. “Believe me; I do not take advantage of anyone.”

“What she told us disgusted us, Carlos, so listen,” Spiros said. He sat steely-eyed and determined. No son of his was going to take advantage of a young girl. He had raised them better.

Carlos sighed. “Who’s Barbara Weston?”

“Carlos,” his mother admonished. “Don’t you remember the young Australian girl you slept with over a month ago and then discarded like an old shoe? Do you really not remember her?”

He shook his head. “Name doesn’t ring a bell. Describe her.”

“Young, about your age, long blonde hair, big blue eyes, slim, very pretty.”

He frowned at the description. “She sounds familiar but only because I saw her two days ago, not a month ago. And I certainly didn’t take advantage of her, or anyone else for that matter.” He stood. “Is that it? Some girl makes up a story because she’s outsmarted by a supermodel and now she’s blabbing that story to my parents? I’m outta here.”

“Sit down,” Spiros roared. “You do not get away with shirking your responsibilities. Now I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you will do the right thing by this young girl and your baby.”

Baby!

“Baby? What baby?” Carlos slumped to his seat. “How can she be pregnant in two days? I used protection.”

“What do you mean in two days?” Jenny asked. “You were with her over a month ago.” She couldn’t keep up with her sons anymore.

“Mama, Papa, I only slept with this girl two days ago.” Carlos was on his feet again. “I used a condom. She can’t be pregnant by me, ah-uh, no way.” He waved his hand. “And if she is, it ain’t mine. She came to the bar this morning and bitched about me in front of everyone. I told her I had been up front about sleeping with her and didn’t want anything else out of it. She apparently did and tried to confront me about it. She only got stopped when Vivian Villiers, the supermodel, told her to grow up and get over it. That she was acting like an immature brat. She got embarrassed and ran away. That’s it. If she’s pregnant, it ain’t mine. Now,” he looked at his watch, “I’m gonna be late for my shift and I gotta shower.” He left his parents speechless, unsure of who was telling the truth.

“Vivian Villiers,” Jenny muttered. “She’s here? She’s gorgeous.”

“And probably embarrassed the poor girl,” Spiros replied. “Do you think it may be some revenge thing?”

“What?” Jenny said. “Carlos sleeps with her once and she gets told off by a supermodel and then plans revenge on him? No, I think that would be a bit too much for her to handle.”

“Ah, never underestimate a woman scorned,” Spiros said, nodding in agreement with himself.


*****


Carlos raced to the cabana and arrived at the same time as Vivian. “Ah,” he gasped. “Made it.”

“But look at you,” she purred. “You’re all hot…and sweaty…” She pulled at his tank top.

“And you’re all naked under that robe, aren’t you,” he said, his chest heaving from more than exertion.

“Yes.” The wicked grin slid into place.

“Well, we’d better get to it then. I suggest we go to your place.” Carlos grabbed her hand. “I know a private entrance. What room are you in?”

“I don’t want to go back up.” She pulled him to her. “I came down here for some privacy and alone time.”

“You may have,” Carlos said. “But there’s no way I’m making love to you on a massage table, so your bedroom it is.” He pulled her to the back entrance of the hotel and they made their way up the private stairs that all of the celebrities used to stay away from the paps, making it to her room without being seen. She locked the door, he yanked off her robe, and she ripped his clothes off.

They stood before the bed facing each other and each admiring the other’s body. He grabbed her head, entangling his hand in her hair. She did the same. He bent her head back and kissed her roughly, his other arm holding her tight. After moments of passionate tongue sex, he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him before they fell onto the bed as one.

After hours of vigorous, seductive and languid lovemaking they lay spent in each other’s arms.

Carlos held her tight. He didn’t want to let his dream woman go. He relished the tendrils of hair that lay across his naked body and twirled them around his finger. They had been a silken cascade that she flung around her in a frenzy during sex, allowing it to tease him, torment him. Now, he held her against him.

Viv sighed, contented. She hadn’t had a man like that in a long time, let alone one nearly half her age. Some would see him still a boy, but he’d just proved he was definitely all man. A young, very virile, man. She ran her fingers down his chest. “You are good,” she purred. “Probably the best I’ve ever had.”

“Only probably?” he murmured into her hair.

The tropical island breeze floated through the open balcony doors. Three empty bottles of champagne lay strewn across the floor. They had made use of every part of the room. The chairs, desk, bathroom, bed, the floor...

She twirled her fingers around. “Well…I’d say…definitely.”

“That’s more like it.”

Her fingers trailed their way down to his manhood and gently massaged it.

“Ugh…yeah…that’s…” He arched his back and sighed.

“I know how to please a man you know,” she said, sitting on top of him.

“Ugh.” He grabbed her hips and kept her there, gazing up into her fiery eyes. She came, throwing her head back at the peak, and he sat, making it more explosive. He buried his mouth in her hair, his tongue seeking nipple. His hands moved up to claim them and found them, making them his own.

She sighed and fell beside him. “You really are everything they say you are. You should do it for a living.”

“Do what?”

“Have sex.”

“I already do.”

“But I mean on the big screen.” She sat up so they were nose to nose. “Imagine it. Your gorgeous body, that ten-inch cock.” She stroked it. “All on the big screen. All for everyone to see. The world will want you, just like I do,” she said against his lips.

“You mean movies?”

“More than movies.”

“What could be more than movies?”

“Pornos, darling. Let the world see what a massive dick you’ve got.”

Carlos laughed and pushed her off him. “Pornos?” Getting out of bed he checked his watch. He was now off the clock. Grabbing his clothes, he said, “Me? In pornos? Movies yeah, but pornos?”

“Have you ever thought about it?” Viv asked, yanking his clothes from his grasp. She knelt on the bed in front of him. “Look at you.” He stood before her in the raw. “You’re beautiful. The dream guy every girl wants. Sure, you could go to Hollywood and try and get into movies. I could help you if you wanted. But for a man with a cock that long and that wide and that…” She groped it, kneaded it, massaged it until he came in her hand and groaned. “Pleasurable,” she added. “You need to show it off. Besides, you can earn big bucks on the big screen just for having a big dick.” She slid her hand between her legs, feeling the warm juice over her. “Think about it. I can help you.”


*****


Consuela Maria Da Vica was preparing for her wedding. She was a young thing, barely twenty-five years old and already considered past her prime, age-wise. But she was still young enough to bear big strong children. She was preparing to marry an older man, as old as her grandfather, purely as breeding stock. Her parents had wanted her out of their home, crying poor when he came along.

He had taken a shine to her and asked for her hand in marriage, paying her parents handsomely. They had packed up her meagre belongings and sent her on her way with her new husband-to-be. She had objected at first. She didn’t know him, he needed to court her. But between him and her parents, she was out of her small Peruvian town in no time.

Now, here she was in the beautiful Greek city of Athens, ensconced in her husband-to-be’s palatial home. She knew no one, knew nothing and felt like a prisoner half the time. She wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without a bodyguard and servant, a young maid who was the daughter of the cook, and who she was sure was being eyed off by her husband-to-be. And she also had a feeling that he’d given it to the cook over the years.

Consuela spoke broken English but now had to learn Greek. Not that it mattered, as she was sure she would never be out in public with her husband. She knew she was just for breeding. And here it was, one week before the wedding, three weeks since she’d been brought there, and all that had to be done was get a dress. From a catalogue, she had chosen a simple design which they were having shipped in from the company.

She wandered over to the large balcony doors and stared out at the city. “Oh, what will become of me? Besides a breeder. Will I ever work or play or have fun again?” She’d had so much fun in her small town. Her best friend was married off with children. But she hadn’t wanted to be married off herself. She’d wanted to see the world and go to places she’d only ever heard of. Now she was. She was seeing Athens and new and exciting things. Even though it was only because she was being married off.

Her maid came into the room. “Madame.” Her broken English was hesitant. “What do you want to do today?” She hovered behind her new mistress. She’s such a young thing, she thought. Barely older than me. I wonder if she knows she’s marrying my father? I’ll kill her…flew through her mind before she smoothed her apron.

“I do not know,” Consuela managed. “I am not allowed out of this house. I cannot do anything.”

The maid, whose name was Marta Effidopolous, had already concocted a plan. “I know,” she said. Glancing behind her she moved to Consuela’s side. “We will go to Mykonos.”

“What’s Mykonos?” Consuela asked.

Marta’s eyes widened at the girl’s stupidity. “It is in Greek islands. We can take ferry there. We can go get some sun, have fun. I can dress you in maid’s outfit, no one will ever know. We will be gone and back.”

Consuela fretted. “It sounds good but how and when?” The thought of getting out into the air thrilled her, even if it was dangerous.

“Leave it to me,” Marta said. “Boss man is leaving Friday for business and not coming back until Monday. We can leave straight after.”

The more Consuela thought about it, the more excited she became. “Okay, let’s do it.” Little did she know what she was in for.


*****



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