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Cocktocock: Tales of Greece

by Martin Finn

133 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); Mature audiences only - contains graphic sexual sequences; catalogue #04-0675; ISBN 1-4120-2847-7; US$15.95, C$20.00, EUR13.00, £9.01

Arousing, refreshingly human account of a young gay man's sexploits whilst in Greece. This erotic fiction celebrates the essentially raunchy aspects of one-off (non-anal) sexual interactions between men.

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About the Book      About the Author      Excerpts      Catalogue Information

About the Book

Tales of Greece is an arousing, refreshingly human account of a young man's sexploits during the last weeks of his stay in Greece.

Written as a Travel Log primarily for men who like to have sex with men ... cocktocock. This collection of stories is partly my response to the dearth of entertaining or fun treatments of sex among men ... especially gay men ... available in erotic writing and videos. The gay cultural concept that sex, as an integral part of our identity, should be 'codified' in order to reaffirm that identity, leads some to the misconception that sex must be taken seriously. Serious sexual consumerism. This erotic fiction frees us from such external baggage and celebrates the essentially raunchy and improvisational aspects to one off sexual interactions amongst men.

It has become fashionable of late for erotic fiction to focus on 'hard sex' ... writers making sexual pantomime from what they perceive as 'core gay fetishes'. Here, observing a young man as he is caught in a whirlwind of sexual attention, human touch replaces overt fetishism. By recounting the intuitive, sensual aspects of this slice of time, larger than life sexual events are supplanted by instinctively horny, human, male-to-male encounters.

Tales of Greece is part of a series of books you can read celebrating non-anal sex among men. Enjoy ... there's more to come!

Martin Finn

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About the Author

The contemporary 'perceived understanding' of sex between men in modern western gay culture, proves day by day too limiting to encompass the depth and breadth of male sexuality in real life. Never the less, a flawed, absolutist 'misunderstanding' is imprinted on us through media and anecdote, day after week ... now years. Asserting in hard sell marketing sound bites ... what we are and what we desire.

Here a different approach is taken. Written in the first person (I), the recollections of our main character invite the reader to empathise and relive with a young man, all the anticipation, surprise and fun of making sexual contacts on his travels. As this is a work of fiction, 'I' deliberately denotes 'I' as in 'EVERYMAN', a man. Not typified or formulated. A healthy and happy ... but flawed and confused ... male being.

These stories elucidate the intuitive aspects of our sexual behaviour in early adulthood; curious, bold and as yet unencumbered by the ideas of 'cultural peers'. Through these tales I portray not simply the mechanics of sex cocktocock, but how profoundly impressionistic and existentially vital certain male-to-male sexual interactions can be.

Sadly in Western Culture the sexual experiences of early adulthood have become polluted by notions of countless damaged youths ... indulging in sex before they were 'ready'. Here's one up for the beautiful years of 18 to 20! When benign desire and fateful opportunism allow a young man with the urge ... to interact amongst fellows, explore and enjoy the early blooms ... those irreplaceable adult hormone, instinct, testosterone rushes which many yearn to recapitulate in later life, or with every casual sexual encounter ... desperately sometimes. If, like me, late teens is now a while back for you ... or if you're in the thick of it (19) ... remember well and celebrate ... one life ... it's our life ... others cast aspersions on the beauty of our experience only if we let them. In the final existential account, they can never really know ... only I.

Part of a series of books looking at non-anal sex (phalli interactive) among men, entertainment, fun and arousal are implicit, (hand on cock or cocks), to my style of writing.

Martin Finn
London March 2004

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Excerpts

Saturday and Sunday I didn't go out. By Monday I was desperate for a decent home cooked meal. I had to go to the café. Monday evening felt unthreatening ... normally it was a 'token' night. The owners weren't present ... a guy had to accept whatever food was available. That was fine by me. I was buzzing on my recent experiences. I anticipated no cocktocock action that night.

True enough the café was deserted ... I had the full attention of the young girl holding the fort on a quiet Monday evening. Even though the food had been cooked the previous day it tasted so fine. Many Mediterranean recipes gain well from an over night rest ... I had no complaints.

Then two lads came into the café. They ordered cokes and took a table. I kind of knew them ... I'd hung out and drank with them a couple of times. They were the younger guys ... my age ... 19 years old. Sounds funny but during my year travelling I had gotten used to mixing with people older than me. So even though these fine young dudes were the same age as me. I registered them as the young ones ... requiring even more discretion and dissembling than their older counterparts.

Yet they were not focused on me ... their attention seemed to be on guy on a pushbike outside the café. When he rode by the window ... or stopped on his bike and looked inside ... both young blokes would drink from their glasses in a most superior way. It looked camp to me. However their display was so transparent I soon deduced that they were lauding it ... because the other dude was for some reason ... known only to Greek familial culture ... not allowed to come inside the confines of the café.

There wasn't much else to do so this scenario got my attention pretty quick. My two young acquaintances on the table opposite were eager to include me in the joke. Laughing and calling out to me in Greek ... drinking their glasses of coke so painfully slowly. Their friend outside ... looking baffled at his exclusion. It was the look on his face that first caught my attention. The look of a young man confused and wracked by physical and cultural barriers that get in his way. He could only ride by ... sometimes stopping to look inside. I could see he was well handsome. Better looking than his two mates who sat gleefully sipping coke. The dude on the bike must have been about my age ... 19 years old. In common with many of his compatriots he had short black hair, he stood about 5'10 ... more defined than me ... about 140lbs ... his short-sleeved T-shirt showing off his biceps, his sculpted chest and hard stomach. He was wearing Wrangler jeans ... as he put his weight from foot to foot ... peering inside the café. I could see his packet ... full bulge ... sliding from one thigh to another ... the saddle sticking out between his legs. These guys carried their masculine form so naturally. There was no hint of self-consciousness ... no over projection of physical self-confidence. They just were. Awesomely attractive.

I think I was observing him too closely. I was in a light daydream, pondering the look of him, when one of the young guys came over and stuck his face in mine. Grinning and giggling. It brought me down to earth with a bang. I drew my head back ... I wasn't sure what he was up to. "He older." He said pointing to the guy outside. "But I in here ... and he not." In between his snippets of English he was talking loudly to his mate ... still at the table ... and shouting through the window at the dude on the bike ... who gave him the finger and then rode off. "His mother say NO." The young guy's final triumphant statement as he sat down next to his mate.

Dusk was just about upon us. About 10 minutes after the guy on the bike rode away I decided to leave. It would be cool to walk and watch the sun set ... much more pleasant than walking in the dark. I'd become less used to it ... what with all the rides home I'd been getting.

Half a click out of the village I turned around and saw the dude on the bike about 250 meters behind me. 'Hmm' I thought 'This road doesn't go "anywhere" in particular', I'd never seen the guy down my road before. I carried on walking. Trying to raise my consciousness from my dick and enjoy the beauty of the evening, the sunset and the landscape. Yeah like I could. I was 19 and always horny ... my cock definitely got plump thinking that another studly young Greek dude was aching to get his hands on my dick. After 1Km I looked back again and he was there ... now about 200m behind me. I could have waved ... but I didn't really know this guy at all ('coz he never came into the café) ... so after another few hundred meters I turned around. This time I stopped and he awkwardly stopped too. I faced the ditch ... with my head turned so I was looking at him. His amateurish stalking almost made me laugh. It was so obvious he was following me ... and he didn't know how to make it look as if he was casually riding his bike. It was very funny ... and horny at the same time. Without thinking too much about it I opened my pants and pulled out my dick. Then I had a long slow piss into the ditch. Watching him all the time. The light was gloomy and he was 200m away ... but he knew I had my cock out. He could see I was pissing. I took my time putting my knob away and doing up my pants. Then I carried on walking.

About 500km from my house I stopped again and turned round. The dude was just 150m behind me. He again awkwardly brought his cycle to a halt. I stood there looking at him. Standing at the side of his bike looking at me. 'What the fuck!' I thought. 'When is this guy going to come up to me?' I stood looking at him. As I thought, giving him the opportunity to ride up and say "Yasso ... Hi". Then he let his bike fall to the ground and made a half turn of his body and started opening his pants. He got his cock out ... his hips turned towards the ditch and he started pissing. I couldn't really see his dick ... I sort of could ... whilst he was in full stream he swivelled his hips to piss in my direction. In better light he would have been showing me his dick. He fastened up his pants and picked up the bike but didn't move a step towards me. We stood there for about five or ten minutes. We'd seen one another piss ... he was following me ... as far as I could fathom ... the next move was for us to get closer!! Whatever, when I was more bored than stimulated I turned on my heel and walked to the house. I looked back from the door down the lane and saw him there. He wasn't moving so I went inside.

As far as I was concerned that was it. There was no way I expected him to knock on the door. I got two lamps going and set about making a fire. Busying myself around the place ... drinking Retzina ... nurturing my heat source ... I kind of forgot about the Greek lad who'd followed me home. An hour later I was happily sitting by a roaring fire getting mellow on Retzina and reading my book.

A knock on the door didn't really startle me ... more like quickly brought my mind back to the young Greek dude. "Fucker!" I said out loud ... too loud. So I spoke in my head as I went to answer the door. 'What a fuckin' front! I hope he's not in some kind of strife. Wow ... his balls must be bursting ... he's knocking on the door for it.' I didn't open the door instantly. I called out "Yasso!" ... Like 'Hi' ... a young man answered much lower ... humble almost. I opened the door and there he stood ... with his bike. I spoke in Greek. "Hi. Good evening. Are you alright?" He looked into my eyes for the first time ... his visage and bright piercing gaze almost took my breath away. His voice was deep and full for a young guy ... a man's voice ... in this instance low volume ... resonant. He replied in Greek. "Hi. Good evening. What are you doing?" He held the stare. "Nothing." I said "Come on in. Come in." I stepped back and he walked in ... with his bike.

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Catalogue Information

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