Suddenly, I was extremely nervous as I gazed up at this impossibly handsome and uninhibited man. He looked at me like I was a plate of food, so I asked, “What’s for dinner, anyway?”

“After I have dessert?” he stared between my legs as he said it, “then we’re having the main course, which will be my pig in your blanket,” he grinned that stupid, smirking, dimpled grin of his. “Oh wait, Pigs In Blankets is breakfast. Duh.”

I paused and took in the ridiculous look on his face. How did he always manage to set me at ease so damn easily? There I was, naked from the waist down with a handsome cavemen hovering above me, drooling over his dinner, and I burst out laughing.

He chuckled as he pulled his pants off one leg at a time like a normal mortal.

“Come here,” I said, holding my arms out to him.

He stood at the foot of the bed. “Boxers on or off?”

“What happened to going commando?” I dropped my arms to the bed, feigning surprise.

“Like I said before, when it’s winter, I need insulation for my jewelry.”

“Your jewelry?” I sneered.

“Gotta keep my 24-carat boys warm,” he snickered.

“Are they diamond studded too?”

“For her pleasure,” he said suggestively.

I shook my head. “Take your pants off, funny man.”

“Your wish is my command.” He pushed his boxers down, revealing his rigid length. He was completely naked and completely flawless.

Oh, yeah. There was a reason why we were in his bedroom with the door closed and my pants and panties off. I fanned my face, suddenly struck by a 103-degree fever.

“Is it just me,” he asked, “or is your hotness turning my bedroom into a fucking sauna?”

“What, you mean like one of those bathhouses were people go to have sex?” I asked, still fanning myself.

“No,” he chuckled at me,” I meant your hotness.”

I frowned. “You were the one who said, ‘Fucking Sauna,’ so I thought that’s what you meant,” I sniveled.

He smirked and shook his head, gawking at my crotch as he crawled between my legs. “You’re crazy,” he grinned.

Before I could object, his arms were under my legs and his mouth was on my lips. My oh-so-very-wet lips.

My head fell back on the bed and I moaned long and low, then suddenly stopped short. “Are there any windows open? Can your grandfather hear us?”

Christos lifted his head and gazed up at me from between my legs with his mesmerizing eyes. “No, the deck is on the other side of the house. He can’t hear a thing.”

That feeling of sneaking around returned, but this time, with myself completely bared to Christos, his breath warming my core as he locked eyes with me, I was ready to indulge in some illicit love-making. Even if he had used that word to describe my, uh, female porthole. Or whatever it’s supposed to be called.

Christos’ head sunk back down and his tongue spiraled across the tight bud of nerves above my cleft. The intense ecstasy was instantaneous.

“Oh, Christos,” I moaned.

His tongue slid up and down my entrance before his fingers entered me.

“Ohhhh…” I moaned again.

He plunged and licked and loved my core until I orgasmed in his face, my back arching, his mouth pushing deeper into me, his tongue circling my pleasure center as my legs trembled and pressed against him.

When I had released the last breaths of my orgasm, I sank into the bed. He climbed up to my face and kissed me passionately while massaging my breasts through my sweater. I felt so kinky being clothed from the waist up and naked from the waist down.

“Cinnamon or nutmeg?” he asked.

“What?”

“How do you taste?”

“Christos,” I giggled.

“It’s like dining at a doughnut shop down there,” he laughed as our lips pressed together.

“You’re terrible!”

“Hey, what can I say?” He pulled away. “You’re the sweetest glazed doughnut I’ve ever had!” He hopped away before I could slap his arm.

He was laughing as he landed several feet from the bed, watching me. I had crawled to the edge of the mattress, ready to chase him, when I realized, once again, I was not wearing pants or panties.

I vaguely remembered seeing a Porky Pig cartoon as a little girl and being entirely disturbed that he wore a dinner-jacket and bow-tie, but no pants! And nobody ever said anything! Oh, and white gloves! Porky never forgot his gloves! Nobody went out of the house without gloves. He was shameless, that pig.

“Did you happen to notice the wall of mirrors behind you?” Christos asked mischievously.

“What?”

“It offers a truly tantalizing view from where I’m standing,” he grinned through lowered lashes.

I twisted my head around, and was greeted by a view of my naked backside. I was down on all fours, which provided a perfect view of my privates.

Horrified, I dropped my bottom to the bed, hiding it from prying eyes. I swore I’d heard someone shout, “Put your pants on, Porky!”

I glanced around, but it was only my imagination. However, I was not imagining Christos leering at the mirror.

I whined, “Stop staring!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m embarrassed!” I shrieked.

“Don’t be.”

There was such a finality to the way he said it, I had to pause.

“Agápi mou, you are the most beautiful woman ever created. You are a child of Mother Nature. Your beauty as a woman is your birthright. You should be proud of yourself. Own your womanhood. Own your femininity.”

I stared at Christos. He was completely naked, all muscled chest and rock-hard abs. His manhood was fully, proudly erect. He looked at me lovingly. If he could be confident, why couldn’t I?

I pulled my sweater over my head, then my shirt. I calmly reached behind myself and unhooked my bra. I tossed it at Christos. It landed right on his…

Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Where it dangled and swung.

I pointed and said, “It landed on your—!!!” That was all I could get out before I fell face first on the bed, bellowing laughter, clutching my sides.

“Gooooaaaallll!!!!” he shouted, then burst out laughing.

I buried my face in my arms and laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. After a minute, I looked up and saw Christos still standing and laughing heartily, but bent over at the waist, resting his hands on the tops of his thighs.

“It’s shaking!!” I screamed, pointing at my bra. “Every time you laugh, it shakes!!”

He broke into another round of laughter and finally dropped to one knee. I expected my bra to finally fall off, but it didn’t.

Somehow, that was even funnier than everything else.

“It’s stuck!!” I squealed. “I lassoed your man-steer!!!!”

He laughed harder, but stood up slowly. Then he began to twirl his hips, and my bra twirled too. So did his man pole. Why did I imagine a rodeo cowboy swinging his cowboy hat in the air?

My bra spun faster and faster—

“Meat spin!!!!” he cackled breathlessly.

—until it flew off and landed on top of my…

Head.

I fell onto my back and couldn’t stop laughing. My bra was still stuck to my head.

“Nice hat,” Christos laughed.

I didn’t care. I was laughing too hard.

Christos stumbled over to the bed and plopped onto the mattress next to me. He rolled over until we were laying side-to-side.

He laced his fingers through mine and we held hands while we laughed and laughed for a long time. Slowly it faded into chuckles, then just breathy sighs.

“Was it good for you?” I gasped.

“Best ever,” he chuckled.

I glanced down and noticed he was still erect.

“How can you stay hard for so long?” I marveled.

He sighed while pulling my bra off my head and tossing it to the floor. “That’s easy, agápi mou. Everything about you turns me on. You’re my own personal Viagra. When I’m seventy-two and can’t get it up anymore, all you’ll have to do is throw your bra on my cock and I’ll be hard as a rock.”

“I can’t imagine you not being able to get it up, no matter how old you are.”

“Me neither,” he said with cocksure confidence.

“Tell me that part again about being together when we’re seventy?” I prompted.

“Oh, you mean when we’re old and gray and have been together for fifty years?”

“You mean when I’m like, 69?”

“I like 69,” he smirked.

“Christos!” I sighed. Why did I like the sound of that so much? I’m not talking about the 69 part, not that there was anything wrong with that, but I meant the being together fifty years part. And why was that making me horny again?

He rolled on top of me and I felt the length of his shaft pressing against my cleft.

“Condom!” I gulped.

“I bought a box on the way home.” He reached over and opened the drawer mounted to the wall and pulled out a new box. He sat up and opened the package with both hands while flexing all his muscles and snarling, as if the box were made of steel. “Roar!” he joked. Condoms flew everywhere.

“What are you doing?!” I asked.

He grinned. “You know that moment when pro-wrestlers rip their t-shirts off in front of the roaring crowd?”

“I guess?” I frowned.

“I’ve always wanted to do that. This seemed like the closest I was going to get. Roar!” he said again as he tore the flimsy condom box to shreds.

“You are such a dork,” I giggled.

“I have such a dork, but I assure you, I am not one myself.”

“Oh, that’s terrible. Don’t quit your day job. Comedy is not your calling.”