Switching Sides Ch. 04


I lay, panting and spent, on my back on the mat in the fresco- and arch-walled stone chamber in the bathhouse in Kusadasi, my thighs spread, my knees bent, and my feet pressed into the mat to thrust my pelvis up to take the deep penetration of Cemil Teke’s horse-hung cock as comfortably as possible. He was kneeling between my thighs, his knees pushed under my buttocks to elevate them, his fists buried on the mat on either side of my chest, his huge belly resting on mine, the jiggling movement of that mass of flesh having rubbed on my cock while he’d been thrusting inside me and having brought an ejaculation out of me and a laugh out of him.

I guess I had made the mistake of pleasing him too much when he exercised his contract option. He had summoned me to the bathhouse for a second wrestling match we both knew I wouldn’t win—and I hadn’t. But it was clear that I hadn’t succumbed to his attempts to control me through the men he had put in my path over the last seven months in which the Hotel Antinous had come close to completion and my own village house in Bayraklidede was finished and I’d moved in. Moving in to my own house had even enabled me to wean myself away from Envir, who stayed back in the attic of the hotel as caretaker of the building and dining room waiter. What I had reached the need for was a reliable manager of the B&B.

It was the Hotel Antinous now—named for the only declared homosexual god, and named in Greek as a signal for those in the gay communities, where use of Greek was marked as gay by Turks, that the hotel encouraged gay male clientele. I had given in to Cemil—readily—on that point, and he had moved into a partnership of sorts with me, providing protection and clients in exchange for his domination and agreement for a good cut of the profits.

This, now, here—me on my back with him between my legs, his cock sunk deep inside me, was a reminder of his domination. He evidently found it necessary to reestablish that control directly after seven months because I had not succumbed to his attempts to control me through putting other men in my bed. He was reconfirming this control directly, himself. And I was panting under him, not a bottom by preference. But I had come for him—and he had come inside me and was still hard inside me, asserting control.

I struggled to roll out from underneath him, and he grabbed my wrists, forcing my arms over my head and my back flat on the mat under the weight of his belly. Although he’d come, he was still ramrod hard and so thick inside me that I felt I might split. The muscles of my passage walls were still undulating over the thick hardness of him, loving the attention even though, emotionally, I wasn’t a bottom—at this moment no one had informed my channel walls of that. He reared back and gave me three hard, penetrating thrusts, and I lay quiet, panting, whimpering.

“I told you when you came here that you might need to give yourself to further your interests, our interests,” he said when I was fully under control.

“Who?” I asked.

“The contractor, Haluk Badem,” Cemil answered. “We need him to clear the way on the hotel occupancy permits. He wants you. He wants to use you as a bottom. If he’s satisfied, once a week until the permits are granted. That could take a few months.”

It could have been worse. Badem, who had done some work on the hotel, but mostly had worked on renovating my village house in Bayraklidede and virtually rebuilding the mountain retreat house in Kizlay Haber, which was more a ruin than a house, was ugly as sin. He was a good ten years older than I was. But he was built like a bodybuilder, muscular and strong. He was a regular gorilla. He had shown interest in me, and I thought that interest was genuine and an interest of his Maltepe Escort own rather than at Cemil’s suggestion. Cemil had endeavored to pair me up with the younger workmen at the house, men who would let me fuck them. There was no hint with Badem of anyone doing the fucking but him.

“Say yes,” Cemil commanded.

“Yes,” I acquiesced. He pulled out of me then and moved away from me. “I will be in the pool in a half hour,” he then said. “I want you to come to me there, walking the full length of the room, naked, and looking at me—and only at me. You will come to me in the pool, service my shaft, and then take it. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I answered meekly.

“Do you understand why?”

“Yes,” I responded, knowing that he wanted the other men there to know that Cemil dominated the rich American who had come to Kusadasi to open a luxurious small hotel in the old town.

“My old friend, Umut Uzan, will be in the pool too. I owe him a favor, and he is in a position to make business life on Bozkurt Suk difficult or easy.”

“I understand,” I answered.

As I walked across the tiled floor alongside the pool, the pool being particularly crowded that day, I kept my eyes trained on Cemil, who was sitting on the lip of the pool, thighs spread, raging erection in his hand. I entered the pool at the other end and waded to him, men parting to let me pass as I proceeded, the hubbub in the pool having gone silent.

When I reached Cemil, I leaned over, he jutted his pelvis out of the water, and I took his cock in my mouth. There was buzz through the chamber, which accelerated as the older, fat merchant, Umut Uzan, took up position behind me. I grimaced as his hands squeezed and separated my buttocks and he split the difference with his cock. The buzz in the chamber continued as Uzan grabbed my hips and fucked me from behind as I sucked Cemil’s cock. When Uzan was finished and had withdrawn, Cemil pulled me up into his lap, onto his shaft, and I crouched in his lap, my fists locked behind his neck, and my feet on the tiles on either side of his hips, giving me leverage to fuck myself on his cock. For all at the pool to see.

Cemil Teke had made his point not only to me but to the whole segment of Kusadasi men who went with men.

* * * *

For the next two weeks I was nervous around the contractor, Haluk Badem, waiting for him to start calling in the favor Cemil was giving him for his help in pushing the hotel to approval. In those two weeks, in which the hotel was shaping up into something really first rate, Badem was there, by my side, frequently, although he was spending more time up at the Kizlay Haber mountain cottage than at the hotel now. He was nothing but polite to me, although I occasionally was aware of him smiling at me in a knowing way.

When it came, I almost didn’t realize it. He approached me one afternoon and said, “Would you like to come up to Kizlay Haber and see what progress has been made? There hasn’t been much, but if you want walls removed or put in, this would be the time to do that.”

“Yes, that would be fine,” I answered. The village house up there, bought as a rambling stone ruin, was to be made into a vacation retreat triplex. The Hotel Antinous was more for foreign visitors coming to explore the ruins at Ephesus. Kizlay Haber was for Turks—gay couples, now that Cemil had led me in that direction, who were from Turkish cities and wanted to escape to the mountains on a vacation where they could lay back and freely be what they were.

As Badem’s Land Rover climbed into the mountainous area above Kusadasi, he began to feel me out on whether I knew what Cemil had agreed with him and if I agreed to that myself. “Interesting name for a hotel,” Tuzla Escort he said. “Antinous. That’s a Greek name, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Antinous was a Greek god,” I answered. “But Antinous began life as a human and was born in Bithynia, which is now in Turkey. So, the name is fitting for Turkey, I think.”

“You know what a certain kind of Turk thinks of when a Greek name is used?” he asked.

“Yes. That’s why we named the hotel what we did. Cemil has convinced me that there is profit to be made in a guest hotel in Kusadasi that caters to men who go with men. The name signals that. Antinous, as a human, was the lover of the Greek emperor Hadrian. He was made into a deity after he died.”

Badem was silent for several moments and then he spoke again. “I understand that you are such a man—a man who goes with men. Cemil Teke has told me this.”

“Yes, yes I am,” I answered. “Cemil tells me you are such a man too. He tells me he has made an agreement with you for help in obtaining permits to get the hotel open.”

“Cemil tells me that you usually do the, how do you say? . . . penetration. But that you will let me penetrate you.”

“Yes,” I answered, quietly, looking away from him and out of the passenger window. We were almost to the top of the terrain now. The land was arid, the trees gnarled from the whipping of the wind at this height. I’d been told that Kizlay Haber was in a depression between two ridges, with a brook running through it—that it was like an oasis, with lush vegetation, compared to the surrounding heights.

“That excites me,” he said in a hoarse voice. “You have been penetrated before?”

“Yes. I just prefer it the other way.”

“But you will give me good sport with me inside you?”

“I will do what I need to do to obtain those permits.” I didn’t feel the need to make him think I was overly enthusiastic about this.

“I will enjoy taking a man who takes other men. And you are a fine-looking man. A good body. And an American. That is a fetish with Turkish men—going with an American—penetrating an American. I will be forceful.”

“Yes, Cemil told me you would be.”

“We will struggle for it. If you win, you may choose to penetrate me or not to have sex at all. But when I penetrate you, you will want to scream. You will be bound and gagged, but I will not give mercy when you scream. Understand?”

“Yes. I won’t win at wrestling, will I?” I asked, knowing the answer. He was a big, strong, heavily muscled man.

“No, you will not win. I was the champion wrestler of my village.”

And I didn’t win. I had no idea when we reached the cottage in Kizlay Haber that he would fuck me there, that day, but, once I saw what he had been working on there, I wasn’t surprised that he did. He had everything set up for it. The house was still in ruins, which some of the outer walls crumbling and pulled down nearly to the ground and the vegetation encroaching into what would be the living space of the stone walled, roofed, and floored house.

I almost laughed, though, when I saw what Badem had done with the house so far. He had completed one of the baths, which was very modern had a large, glass-fronted shower. And in the bedroom the bath opened off of, he had set a double, brass head and footboard bed frame in the center of the space, with white sheets on the mattress. The wall toward the interior had been completely covered with a mirror, allowing whatever was happening on the bed clearly to be observed. I wouldn’t call it a room yet, though, as the outer wall was mostly crumbled down. The space beyond the exterior wall was an interior courtyard with a fountain. He somehow had gotten the fountain to work. A ceiling fan was going whomp, whomp, whomp overhead Anadolu Yakası Escort too. But the outside was encroaching on the interior. Vines with large, green, glossy leaves had slithered into the space along the ceiling and down the walls. A section of the roof was missing, and for the time I was on my back, I could look up at an angle into the dimming light of the late afternoon sky as Badem hovered over me and worked my passage with his cock.

We wrestled on the bed, both naked, Badem heavy of body, muscular and hirsute, covered with black curly hair. He toyed with me, controlling his strength to be just a bit more powerful than mine, while holding himself in reserve, manipulating me until I was so exhausted that I just lay there on my back when we reached the point of him binding my wrists to the headboard and my ankles to the footboard. He gave me the handicap of detracting much of his attention to watching us in the mirrored wall, but even being given that edge didn’t save me. By that time I already was open to him, as, in the process of wrestling, he’d had his fingers and his cock inside my channel from time to time.

When I was totally exhausted and had collapsed back onto the mattress, he already was inside me and it wasn’t a scouting excursion at this point. I had the energy to spread my legs, bend my knees, and leverage my feet on the surface of the bed to provide the most comfortable angle for him to dig thick and deep inside me, as he reached up and bound my wrists to the restraints he’d already installed on the headboard and forced the ball gag into my mouth.

“You have neighbors up here,” he gave as an explanation. “Otherwise I would enjoy listening to you scream.”

And scream I did, through the ball gag, as my passage fought to accommodate his thickness and the varied angles of his stroking as he fucked me that first time. After he’d come and rested, he turned me on my belly, bound my wrists to the footboard this time and my ankles to the corners of the footboard. He left enough give for me to go up onto my knees, and he crouched over my pelvis and fucked me doggie style in even more forceful strokes then he had the first time. He’d reversed me on the bed so that I was pointed at the mirrored wall and he could watch himself kneeling behind me, grasping my hips, and fucking me. He bade me to turn my face toward the wall so that he could watch my grimaces in the mirror, and I obeyed him.

With a grunt after he’d come, he rolled off me and unbound me. I turned onto my back and looked up through the opening in the ceiling, bringing my breath back into a calmer rhythm, as he padded off to the bathroom.

Cemil had told me that obtaining all the permits we’d need, especially in view of the delicateness of what our clientele would be, would be difficult even for Badem to do.

“He’ll need to really want to do this,” Cemil had said. I got the message.

I waited until I heard the shower going and then I hauled my weary bones out of the bed as well and padded in to him. I had his back to the wall and his legs in a bit of a crouch, and I rode him in front, my fists locked behind his neck and my feet pressed into the slippery tiles of the wall behind him and under the cascading water, as I used the muscles of my legs to fuck myself on his cock. He was impressed.

We fucked again on the bed. This time I was unbound, on my back, and he was between my legs. He thrust and I counterthrust, moaned deeply for him, opened my mouth to his tongue when he wanted that, and fixing my eyes on the waning light of the sky above the open roof.

“You sure you don’t enjoy having men inside you more?” he asked, as he was driving me back down the mountain to Kusadasi. “You were very good.”

“Usually I don’t like to be the bottom, but you were special,” I answered. I knew it was what he wanted to hear. It was a bit of a chore but endurable.

“Perhaps we could . . . again . . .”

“We’ll see what other permits or other help we might need,” I answered, putting it all back into perspective.

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