Luna Park in Italian means fairground. Luna also means moon. In Italy when you are influenced by the moon they say you're 'lunatico' which means moody not loony, but I suppose it boils down to the same thing. After all moody people are very often loony, aren't they? I know I certainly was that sultry summer night when I met Jaque.

He was from Poland and he was probably for rent but I didn't care. I was hot and I was horny. I'd just had a flaming row with my girl friend and there he was in his low-slung pants and an open leather jacket that was more off him than on him. He looked at me with that sleepy 'I wanna fuck you' look and suddenly I was interested. There was something so frigging feline about him that suddenly I was in the mood for hunting. It was pretty dark in that part of the park and probably dangerous but this only made my sexual safari even more exciting.

I followed him to the Big Wheel. He slipped into one of the narrow seats and I slipped in next to him. I paid the guy for two tickets without a murmur. In spite of the heat, Jaque slid his leg up against mine as if to thank me. A cigarette hung from the corner of his voluptuous mouth but it wasn't lit. You could have cut the air and the atmosphere with a knife. He didn't say anything but layback in the seat, his legs and his chest spread out. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his tight torso and also his tightly packed pants.

There weren't many on the Big Wheel that night and as we circled, he placed his hand firmly between my legs. Just like that. My dick, already at half cock, became fully loaded at his touch. Hardly ten minutes had passed since Elisabetta had walked off in a huff and here I was already being felt up by this hunk of Polish manhood. Ok, maybe he wanted to be paid for his services, but at least I was going to get my dick in his mouth and maybe in his ass too. Both for the same price as the dinner with my girl friend, and more likely than not, nothing to show for it. She'd been keeping her cunt tightly closed ever since I told her I didn't want to marry her.

My dick was ravenous and raring to go, and none too fussy as to who satisfied its hunger. In fact, it was straining at the leash. I waited just long enough to pay for a second ride and then opened my pants wide, as the wheel and my dick rose to meet the sky. He went down on me immediately, only pausing long enough to take the cigarette out of his mouth. It sure felt good going slowly round and round in the sky on that calm sultry night, while the hot lips of a perfect stranger worked their horny way round and down my dick, driving me absolutely wild. Elisabetta may have had a hot little pussy but she sure didn't like taking my dick in her mouth. So this was sheer heaven.

There was not a breath of wind that night, but Jaque was blowing me up a storm. It was all I could do not to cry out in pleasure and appreciation. I shifted further down in my seat so he could get more of me in his mouth. Strange urgings inside me told me I was longing to return the favour, but I didn't want to disappear out of sight altogether in case someone noticed. We were already 'rocking the boat' somewhat conspicuously, considering there was absolutely no wind.

Fortunately the gods were with us, as there was a temporary black out. The wheel stopped for nearly ten minutes. We were at the top so I was able to fuck the ass off him, as we swung high in the air by the light of the silvery moon. I tore his ass to shreds.

Part of my aggression was due to my anger with Elisabetta, but a whole lot more was thanks to the good job Jaque had done on my dick. And I didn't even know the guy's name yet. But names and introductions are of no account when you can count on your dick to do it for you.

We had just finished cumin when the lights came back on and the wheel started up again. It was one of the greatest fucks I'd had, and for the price of only two rides plus Jaque's servicing fee, of course. Not that he was that expensive and, as I said, he was worth every single penny. When we got off the wheel, I found my legs were a little wobbly from all the motion and emotion. I suggested we that go have a drink. Instead, he took me to get ice cream. I remember when I was living in England; everybody drank tea to celebrate, whatever the occasion. In Italy it's coffee or ice cream.

We got to know each other as we licked away at our ice creams. Although, by now we'd been doing quite a bit of licking already, in one way or another. He was in a strange country and without a job so he was selling the only commodity he had. His body. He had few qualms about it too. In fact, he seemed to really enjoy his work. I had to admit he was very good at it. I'll give him that. I also gave him fifty bucks.

I saw him quite a few times after that. When I was feeling 'moody' that is. I couldn't help wondering what future there was for him. He had such a great body and was so good-looking, but good-looking guys aren't exactly in short supply in Italy. He told me that he was thinking of going to Paris or New York to join an Escort Agency. I said he could probably put his photo on the web and earn enough for a round trip. I almost talked myself into being his agent. He may not have had the necessary work papers, but he had excellent 'credentials'. Forget the Big Wheel. I got really addicted to the hairy roller coaster rides he took me on and it wasn't long before I got to like taking it up the ass myself. His dick packed quite a wallop and besides breaking my butt, he would probably have broken my bank if I hadn't had to go back to England on business. Of course he didn't always charge me fifty bucks, but he certainly kept my butt charged, and my dick was never shortchanged either, I can tell you.

Elisabetta wanted to kiss and make up but I'd undergone a step change in my sexual preferences. Her pussy didn't interest me any more. It was a closed door, so to speak. My ass, on the other hand, was ever open for whenever Jaque wanted to come knocking. Which was at least two or three times a week. So in a way, I became a kind of inverted whore myself. I just couldn't get enough of him. When he wasn't rimming and ramming me I kept myself busy feeding off his juicy gooseberry nipples and working up the cream to go with them. He made my ass so hot when he was inside me that it continued to burn for days afterwards. And as soon as the heat subsided, I couldn't wait to see him again, or rather feel him again, so he could recharge my sexual batteries. I tell you, if such an expression existed, I think you could very well call me a dick junky. His Polish prick became an absolute obsession to me.

Eventually and inevitably he moved in with me and fucked me two or three times a day instead of two or three times a week. I loved to fall asleep with him inside me and greet the dawn as his dick rose with the sun.

It wasn't as if I was in love with him or anything. Or so I told myself. I mean I quite liked him although, unfortunately, we didn't really have that much in common. But those full fleshy lips going down on me always guaranteed me a trip to a horny heaven. And the jab of his dick was like the jab of a hypodermic for me. I had to have my fix. I needed him like toast needs butter.

Then came the unexpected call to London. I wanted to take him with me and I may still be tempted to send for him. You see, even if the heavy workload is occupying at least part of my mind by day, at night absolutely nothing is occupying my entire ass. I'm so horribly sex-starved I know it won't be long before I'll find myself running down to the shop on the corner to buy dildos and vibrators or something. I might even be reduced to calling the Escort Agency and asking them to send me another dick-endowed Polish stud to polish me off.

But deep down I know it's him I want and that eventually, and inevitably I'm going to have to send him the airfare, and suffer the consequences. Or, am I suffering the consequences now? Only time and my ass will tell. Maybe that visit to Luna Park has made me loony after all. But I sure as hell can't wait to get back there.