I had been living in London, a newly-qualified teacher, working in a very tough school, and it was as bad as that makes it sound. I really wasn’t coping, I was being given support, but by Easter I had just about had enough and told the school that I would be leaving at the end of the summer term. They weren’t surprised; the place had the same attrition rate on young people as a war zone.
My girlfriend, who was also a teacher, but in a much nicer school, announced that she no longer wanted our relationship to continue. The stress of teaching in that place had made me very difficult to get on with; I was drinking heavily, taking drugs and being, generally, impossible to live with. I suppose I can’t blame her, but it felt like I was being kicked whilst I was down.
I struggled on until July and then walked away from that school with the greatest sense of relief it has ever been my pleasure to have. The lease on my grim little council flat was at an end, so I got my brother to drive down from Wolverhampton to pick up my boxed possessions which my dad had said I could store in his loft, and I left the country with a back pack, a passport, and a few hundred pounds in travellers’ cheques.
My name is Peter. I was 22 years old, six feet tall, slim, with shoulder length black hair and brown eyes. The year was 1974, and I was going to travel the world.
I caught a bus to Athens. It was a miserable trip, across the channel, through Belgium, Germany, Austria, Yugoslavia - still a communist state then - and over the border into Greece. We arrived in Athens mid-morning and the first thing I did was find a cheap student hotel to crash out so that I could at least get my bearings with a clear mind.
The place was full of people like me - young, poor travellers looking for the world to show them a great time, and I soon gravitated to a bar where mostly English-speaking people were hanging out.
Notice boards had posters advertising car shares to Katmandu, macrame classes, yoga tuition and all the other assorted topics relating to the alternative lifestyles of the early seventies. One poster that caught my eye had the word TEACHERS in large capitals across the top. An English language school was advertising for teachers to teach Greek kids during their summer break. It couldn’t be as bad as teaching in London, and I knew the money I had wouldn’t keep me for long, so I thought it was worth having a look at. There was an address on the poster, so I wrote it down and decided to set out for it the next morning.
After getting lost in the Athens backstreets several times, I finally managed to find the address I was looking for and pushed through the door into a dusty office.
‘Hello, I saw an advertisement about English teaching,’ I said to the man sitting at the desk.
‘Oh, yes, Mr. Campbell’s school,’ he replied in accented but fluent English. ‘He is the principal of a school outside Athens and is looking for teachers - they often leave after a short time. Are you qualified?’
‘I am. Can I go to see him?’
Well, long story short, I caught a bus out to the Athens suburb where the school was, met Ian - Mr. Campbell - and he offered me a job starting the next week. He put me in touch with an agent from whom I was able to rent a small flat in the area.
The contrast between teaching unwilling kids about Shakespeare in London and helping Greek kids to learn a language that would open up the possibilities of the English-speaking world was enormous. I was actually enjoying my job. Ian, the principal, seemed very pleased with me, and we would occasionally have a chat about England over a coffee and cigarette in the staff room.
He was, I would say, late thirties, with longish, but thinning blond hair and brown eyes. He was a couple of inches shorter than me, with what looked like, under his tropical suits, a well-toned body. He was good company, intelligent and witty, and we hit it off. So I wasn’t surprised one Thursday evening, as I was packing my briefcase to leave for the day, when he invited me to his home for dinner the following evening.
‘I’ve been telling my wife about you, and she insisted I invite you,’ he said. ‘Don’t mention it to your colleagues; we don’t invite everyone, so I don’t want any resentment.’
‘Wow, yes. That would be lovely; thanks.’
‘I’ll pick you up at your flat at about seven tomorrow then.’
I heard the feeble horn of the school’s dusty VW minibus and looked out of the window of my flat. Ian was waving up at me, so I grabbed my jacket and keys, and the bottle of wine I’d bought earlier, went downstairs and climbed in.
‘We live about half an hour away, on the coast. We were lucky - the owner of the school included this little villa in with the principal’s salary.’
Sure enough, we left the Athens sprawl behind us and eventually got onto a coast road that took us to a small scattering of white buildings which we passed as Ian took a hard turn onto a dirt track leading to a small headland with a single villa on it. He parked behind it and we went in through a kitchen door, where his wife was surrounded by plates of salads and bread and meats.
‘Peter, this is Anna, my wife. Anna, Peter.’
‘Hello, Peter,’ she said, and kissed me on the cheek before I had a chance to speak.
‘Hello... thank you for the invitation; Ian said you insisted.’
‘Oh, don’t take any notice of him; he was as keen to invite you as I was when he told me about you. He gets so bored with the unreliable students who claim to be teachers and the boring old buffers who really are teachers but have no life in them.’
‘Hush, Anna; don’t give Peter all the secrets of my personnel problems! In any case, the topic of work is banned. But yes, Peter, I was less than frank - I wanted you to come, too; it wasn’t just Anna’s idea. You have no idea how good it is to speak to an intelligent person!’
‘Don’t be. Now, how about a glass of wine?’
As Anna continued to prepare dinner, Ian told me that he had met her when he first came to Greece about ten years earlier - he had worked in several schools before becoming principal of the present one. She was the daughter of the owner of the first school in which he had worked, and they had married before he left there to get a better job.
She was about 5’ 4” tall, slender but with a lovely figure which I could clearly see under her thin, cheesecloth top - she wore no bra - and tight, blue jeans. Long shining black hair was loosely tied in pony tail to keep it out of her way whilst she was cooking, and her oval face and dark eyes were beautiful. I could barely stop watching her, especially when she reached for things in the kitchen and her breasts moved fluidly beneath the light fabric.
‘Beautiful, aren’t they? Anna! You are very naughty not wearing a bra. Poor Peter’s not heard a word I’ve said to him; he can’t keep his eyes off your titties!’
Before I could do anything other than gasp, Ian stood up.
‘Right, I’m going to change out of this suit. Help yourself to the wine and enjoy Anna’s titties!’
As he left the room, I gaped at Anna in horrified embarrassment. She met my eyes, smiled slowly, and with both hands lifted her cheesecloth top off, placed it on a chair, and continued to prepare dinner. Her breasts were not too large for her delicate frame, but they were round and quite firm, with large, dark nipples. I could hear Ian laughing in his bedroom; he had obviously known what Anna would do. I was mesmerised by her gorgeous swaying breasts and her tight bum in her jeans.
‘Aren’t you hot in those?’ Ian said to her, as he re-entered the room. She looked at him and smiled, then at me, as she unfastened the waistband of the jeans and pulled them down, stepping out of them and standing there completely naked in the kitchen. I moved my eyes from her breasts, down over the flat stomach to the tight black vee of hair in the space between her smooth thighs. I thought I was going to suffocate; I simply couldn’t breathe.
Ian laughed again. ‘Relax, Peter; we prefer to be comfortable on hot Greek evenings.’
I turned to see that he, too, was naked. I was right, he did have a toned body, and a huge cock. It hung, thick, from his blond pubic hair, swaying slightly as he had been walking.
‘Ian, we have embarrassed him,’ said Anna, ‘I’m sure he wasn’t expecting any of this.’
‘Sorry, Peter. We lived in a hippy commune for a while after we got married and we just got into a much freer way of living. To be honest, I thought our ‘lifestyle’ was a well-known source of gossip at the school.’
‘No, I never...’
‘Would it make you more comfortable if we covered up? Or you can join us...’
‘No, I’m fine; I’m just a bit... Well, I’ve never...’
‘Don’t worry about it. Get your kit off if you feel more comfortable; leave it on if you don’t. Tell you what.’ He reached into a cupboard and pulled out a length of dyed cloth. ‘Nip into the bedroom and wrap this round yourself. It’s a Malayan sarong. You’ll be cool but you’ll keep your modesty. Pass me the wine.’
I went into the bedroom, took off my clothes and wrapped the sarong around my waist. I was more comfortable, but very self-conscious as I returned to find Anna and Ian sat at the table, helping themselves to salad.
Dinner was delicious. We had a couple of glasses of wine and I felt a lot more mellow. The sarong had come loose and when I stood up it slipped to the floor. I lunged to catch it, missed and then decided not to bother. I had got used to seeing the other two naked and it felt very liberating to join them.
‘Fancy a smoke?’ said Ian, as he reached for an inlaid box on a side table and began to roll a joint. He was sitting in a large chair opposite the sofa where Anna and I were sitting. Anna passed the joint to me and looked towards Ian, giving him a firm nod, which I couldn’t miss.
As I took the joint from her hand, she placed her hand deliberately on my groin and began to massage my cock. I’m not as well-endowed as Ian, but I soon sprang to attention as she stroked me, and then bent down and took the end in her mouth. Ian looked at me, and his smile was wonderful; there was genuine happiness and love in his eyes for both Anna and me. His look encouraged me, and as I passed the joint back to him, I cupped her breast in my hand, feeling its warmth and weight, and enjoying the sensation of the point hardening rapidly.
Anna continued to suck my cock, taking all of it into her mouth, and then releasing it all but for the head. She stroked and cupped my balls and I lay back, unable to do anything about it.
She then stood up, facing me, and lowered herself onto my erect cock, taking all of me into her gorgeous Greek cunt. And there she sat, motionless. Ian stood up and walked over, his cock now hard and proud, He stood between us, his cock between our faces, and Anna leaned forward slightly to lick and suck her side of it. She looked encouragingly in my eyes and I realised what was expected of me. I, too, leaned forward and put my lips around the side of Ian’s massive cock. Ian twisted slightly so that the head was pointing at me and I opened my mouth more and he pushed it in. I was sucking another man’s cock, for the first time in my life!
Anna started to rock herself on my cock and Ian stepped over so that he was now straddling my lap, his arse towards Anna’s face and his cock as deep in my mouth as he could get it. I was fucking his wife as he was fucking my mouth. I could hear Anna licking his arse as she continued to rock on my cock, and Ian supported himself on the wall behind the sofa as he carried on fucking my mouth.
After several minutes of this, Anna slid off my lap and Ian pulled out of my mouth. He dropped to his knees and took my cock, soaked in his wife’s cunt juice, all the way into his mouth. He was sucking me in a way my girlfriend had never come close to managing. He was superb. Anna had climbed across me and was shoving her cunt into my face, so that I was able to explore her depths with my tongue and nibble at her clit with my teeth. She began to get very tense, and it was obvious that her climax was close. At the same time, I could feel my cock and balls contracting, ready to shoot into Ian’s mouth. As Anna shuddered and cried out, I shot my load down Ian’s throat and Anna flooded my mouth, face and chest with her own cum.
Anna collapsed beside me and I flopped back, both of us spent. Ian looked up, having swallowed every drop of my cum, and smiled at us both.
'Looks like you both enjoyed that. Let’s have a glass of wine before we start again.'
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