Working as I do around the clock, and always being on hand for the unexpected job to crop up, it's virtually impossible for me to plan a vacation. So I was pretty grateful when an English friend of mine called to offer me his time-share apartment in Portugal for two weeks. Everything paid. It seems he was unable to go this year and rather than let it go to waste or 'lie fallow' as he called it, he wanted to hand it over to me. Was I ready to leave on Friday? Fortunately, or unfortunately, I was going through a fallow period myself so I jumped at the opportunity. All I had to do was find a seat on one of those flights they're constantly offering on the net for prices which are often less than the cab fare to the airport. I left word on my voice-mail that I'd be back soon and off I went. Not until Sunday as it happened because that was the only day I could get a ticket but it didn't bother me too much. I was footloose and fancy free which is just what I like to be.

I suppose I should have known better. It's not often you get something for nothing. You usually end up having to pay some way or another and I paid in boredom. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the apartment. I mean I'd expected something similar. But what I hadn't counted on was the average age of the time-sharers around me who all seemed to be fast running out of time as far as I could see. And if they weren't well over seventy they were usually under seven as there were a lot of families there too and not a good-looking horny husband among them. What made matters even worse was the fact that the available men, gay or straight, were mostly English, German or Dutch. Not that I'm a racist but I like my 'meat' well done and these were all fleshy pink, ghastly grey or wimpy white. I stuck it out for five days and was seriously thinking of getting the next cheap flight back to Rome. Then my eyes alighted on Morreno.

It seems they drained the swimming pool once a week and he was the guy in charge of the draining. The sight of him had quite a draining effect on me too. All the blood drained out of my head and went straight to my dick. He was wearing a white one piece work outfit. The kind that opens down the front and always makes me horny as hell as it caresses every contour of the guy wearing it and leaves nothing to the imagination. So he was quite a pleasant surprise as I strolled out one morning to take my swim before the northern invaders took over the pool. I seemed to surprise him too as I must have been at least forty years younger than the average time-share swimmer. I smiled and asked him what we were supposed to do when the pool was out of function. He didn't speak much English so I tried in Italian which wasn't much help either. Eventually he pointed down the road and after a bit of miming I realized the beach had been there all the time and I'd been completely unaware of both its existence and its proximity. I smiled my thanks and set off in its direction.

The beach was absolutely fabulous and cheered me up no end. As had the horny sight of Morreno. I didn't know his name yet but when I eventually did I was ready to give it five stars. I mean they give them to hotels don't they and his name definitely deserved to be pronounced with at least five more 'm's. Mmmmmorreno. Get the picture? Actually when I got to know him better - as you can no doubt imagine -- I began to put a few extra 'rrrrr's in there as well ... Mmmm-more-rrrreno !!! It certainly rolls trippingly off the tongue when you're being fucked I can tell you. It's a real turn on too. But I get ahead of myself.

Next day the swimming pool was back to normal but I was now as horny as hell and there was not a single sign of Morreno. Did that mean, I wondered, that I had to wait for the next drainage day? I went back to the beach which was nearly deserted and had a long energetic swim. I was hungry so decided to try the time-share restaurant. Another mistake. Most of the menu catered for its clients but I did manage to choose an edible omelette. To my joy, Morreno was there clearing tables. What did he do with himself between the clearing and the draining, I asked myself. It turned out that he was the general handyman because when my air-conditioning broke down they sent him to repair it.

I couldn't believe my luck. There he was in my own room in a tight t-shirt and even tighter pants. As usual he wasn't very talkative or communicative although his body spoke volumes. Mine was pretty explicit too. I was only wearing my shorts so it soon became embarrassingly apparent that I was very pleased to see him. He, on the contrary, didn't seem to suffer from embarrassment at all.

"You a got big dick for an Englishman," he said touching it like a child touches a cherished toy.

Naturally this only made it grow bigger and I immediately - don't ask me why -- thought of little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf and wanted to say, "All the better to fuck you with," but fortunately didn't. Anyway it was him I wanted to fuck me and besides being excited I was somewhat peeved as it was obvious that he spoke more English than he liked to admit.

"You wanna fuck?" he said as if reading my mind. "I fix air-conditioning and then I fix you."

Not the most romantic of propositions but at least he called a spade a spade and didn't beat about the bush. I watched him as he deftly, expertly and symbolically put his screwdriver to work.

"I take off my shirt," he said after a while. "It's hellish hot in here."

So the bastard did speak English. I could have killed him.

"Take everything off if you like," I said, "But that will probably only make me feel hotter."

"Have a cold shower," he said peeling off his t-shirt and giving me a horny whiff of his armpits.

It was then that I realized that he had what few other guys have. A body that not only exudes manly sweat but an erotic aroma of its own that invades the nostrils and goes straight down to mingle with your sexual juices. It had only happened to me once before. In Naples. I was with a married couple from England. As far as I knew the husband was straight but the three of us were with a really good looking tourist guide sitting on the beach sharing a bottle of wine one moonlit night and you could have cut the air with a knife. I swear we were all three of us only a pubic hair's breadth away from tearing off his clothes and devouring him on the spot. Later that same week, I managed to get rid of the other two and invited him back to my room for a 'nightcap' but after just one exciting whiff of him in the lift I came in my pants and ruined any immediate relationship between us.

Now here it was happening to me again. Morreno's whole body essence made me dizzy and I could already feel my dick leaking for him. Maybe he was right I'd better take a shower. I excused myself and had the coldest shower of my life. I'd just turned off the faucet and was about to towel myself down when he joined me. He was still bare-chested but he hadn't taken off his tight white pants.

"You can do that for me," he said, turning on the faucet again. "I know you want to."

He rubbed me all over with soap and I watched his excitement grow inside his wet trousers.

"You sure have smooth soft silky flesh, English man," he said. "I like."

I must say his words made me feel like a piece of Turkish Delight for a moment, as well as more than a bit feminine, but I put it down to lack of expression. After all he was Portuguese and English wasn't his language. I soon forgot the unintended insult as he proceeded to get both my body and my dick into a real foamy lather with his workman's hands. He really was some horny handyman. I risked coming prematurely like in the lift in Naples and had to bite hard on my lip to stop the flow. Forgetting my dick temporarily I worked my way down to open his trousers in order to get a better look at his. It seemed to be growing to epic proportions and as I'd expected it was huge and hungry.

"Turn round," he said, before I could even get a grip on it or take the tasty morsel to my lips.

Normally I would have protested at being given such macho orders but the whole experience was new to me and the caged animal inside me wanted to be possessed. And how. After all I'd spent five frustrating days dreaming of being fucked by a tall, dark Portuguese stranger. I obeyed my lord and master and, as a reward, was soon feeling his fingers penetrating me mercilessly. He wasted no time in titillation but rammed them right in and stretched my sphincter. I began to swoon but not due to his heavy handling but because once again I was reacting to the horny scent he was putting out. It was penetrating my nostrils as much as his fingers were penetrating my butt.

"Fuck me," I moaned like the confirmed whore I was. "Fuck me you fucking dago, fuck me."

My words had the desired effect. I don't know if he understood the insult I'd just dealt him but I was putting his English knowledge to the test just like he was doing with my all too narrow English channel. Foraging fingers were replaced by the biggest fucking dick my ass has ever accommodated and a scream tore out of my throat as he tore into my butt. It really hurt. In fact it hurt like hell for a long time without me deriving any pleasure from it. The last time I'd experienced anything quite like it was with a black stud I'd picked up in Rome. I tell you man, from my experience black guys tend to fuck you like they're avenging their entire race. The way that well endowed guy dug into me really convinced me of it. Now I was getting a repeat performance from Morreno. I was sure he must have black blood in him and a real chip on his shoulder.

The harder he fucked me the bigger his dick seemed to grow and if it hadn't been for that heavenly scent of him, on and around me, down me and now up me, I think I would have passed out from the pain of it all.

His devilish dick wedged its way further and further inside of me until I could feel his wire-brush pubes scraping against my aching asshole.

After a while it felt like I was welded to his dick for all eternity and I began to hallucinate. I had childhood images of the lady next door throwing a bucket of water over two copulating dogs that had got stuck together in their excitement. But we were already under water and it didn't seem to be having much effect.

"Mmmorreno," I cried dropping an 'm' or two. "Enough already, you're hurting me."

He hesitated for a moment but it was only to build up steam and send it pouring through my nostrils. And ass.

"Open wide and let me in," is all he said.

Then thrust followed thrust, followed thrust, and pain was suddenly, inexplicably followed by pleasure. I ceased to grind my teeth as he ground his way into me and my ass began to relax and enjoy it all. I'd been so involved with staying alive that I'd forgotten all about coming.

Now, as I felt his body spasm and his breath coming in heaves and gasps as he groaned and moaned and told me what a good fuck I was, I became hard again.

Soon my throbbing dick was yielding to the rhythmic thrust of his fist and my ass to the symphonic crescendo of his battering baton.

I came like I'd never come before.

"Mmmmmorrenoo ...." I groaned as he gushed like a geyser inside me and a long white ribbon came flowing simultaneously from my dick. "More, more, More ...reenoooo .. "

Our cum and our cries mingled and then we became two separate entities again.

But not for long. As he went out the door, after a final check to see my air-conditioning was working ok, he smiled for the first time since I'd met him.

He touched my dick again as he had earlier. But this time as if he was touching a lucky charm.

"Leave your window and your ass open," he said in his inimitable way, "And I'll drop by later."