The weekend is here, and it’s time for some Seductive Studs! We’re returning to The Greek Room, so if you would like a refresher, click here.
Robert Evans, Earl of Corbridge, stared at the doors, long after they had closed behind Christos. He marveled that the young Greek émigré had walked out of the green fields and beech copses of Northumberland and into his home. Blond and olive-skinned, the young man was clearly his father’s son; he even had Agamemnon’s emerald eyes in that face worthy of Adonis. It was as if his dreams had been made real.
Grief welled in his breast. The thought of Agamemnon weak and ill seared him. He had always treasured the thought of returning to Greece—to Agamemnon—as a palliative against the numbing boredom of his familial duty. Heartache choked him, and he sank into nostalgia.
Memories of his Greek lover rose before him—images of him and Agamemnon entangled beneath the bleached-white canvas of an impromptu lean-to. The heat and lust drawing from their pores a cloud of musk and tangy man-sweat while kestrels screamed in the air above them. The hard flat plains of Agamemnon’s chest and belly heaving beneath him as he rode the Greek’s hard cock. All came back, as fresh and vibrant as if it had happened yesterday, and Robert lived in them for a while.
But now that escape was gone.
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‘Til next time!