Jac of All

The plane ride in from London had been long and crowded, and passport and customs lines and the effervescent Panos were the last things I wanted to see when I was disgorged into the hot and busy immigration hall at Ben Gurion Airport. I wanted nothing more than a stiff glass of scotch on the rocks, a shower, and four hours of sleep in a Tel Aviv hotel room before I went any farther. But there was my office manager from my new assignment, Panos Mikalides, holding a placard with my name on it and bouncing around between me and that long passport control line, which looked all the more daunting by the stern-faced Israeli soldiers prowling around with their Uzis at the ready. I sighed and acknowledged to my new, exuberant Greek employee that I indeed was the new Israel bureau chief for the International Press news agency and prepared myself for the worst.

From the beginning, however, Mikalides demonstrated for me how he'd become a legend in the IP system as Mr. Fixit. In no time, he had escorted me through a reel of red tape at the airport, turning stern and suspicious expressions of a parade of officials into broad smiles and thumpings on the back, and we were out of the terminal and into an Opel sedan and racing toward the towers of Tel Aviv and the blue Mediterranean in no time. Mikalides was driving with his hands and his mouth, both of which were going a mile a minute, and I wasn't able to establish that I wanted nothing more at the moment but a slug of scotch and my hotel room before he had veered off south of the city center and driven into what appeared to be a village dolled up for the tourist trade.

"This is Jaffa," Mikalides explained as he pulled up and parked in a spot that a young boy had obviously been protecting for him. "It's the oldest part of Tel Aviv. Thousands of years of habitation here. I wanted it to be the first place you saw in Israel."

He pushed open his door and started to get out of the car. I made no motion to join him and overrode his discourse on early Israel history of this region with an objection. "I'm sorry, Panos, but I've just had a long and tiring plane trip. I only want a drink and a shower and a good nap. And then I suppose I need to check in at the office."

"Yes, yes, all is well at the office," Panos responded through the window of the car door he'd already shut. "The drink's why we're here. Then it's off to your new house."

"My house?" I asked incredulously, as, resigned, I unfolded myself from the car and followed Panos toward a gap at the end of the street, where I could see the blue waters of the Mediterranean. Panos had flipped a coin to the Israeli boy, who had chirped his thanks and disappeared in the opposite direction.

"I just got here," I objected. "I assumed I'd be in a hotel until I could find a place. And I understand that it's not that easy to find an affordable rental in Tel Aviv. I'll have to have a small flat of some sort in Jerusalem too."

"Both all arranged," Panos said, as he pulled me into a crowded terrace café overlooking the sea and guided me to the only empty table in the place. It was in a prime spot and obviously had been kept clear in anticipation of our arrival. "It so happens I own several places I rent out and the main office has already approved the rental of my beach house in Herzliya, the international area on the coast north of the city, and a small flat I have in the American sector in Jerusalem. I've arranged furniture for the house and have stocked the kitchen. So we can go right there from here."

"But then I'll need transport right away to get into the office in Tel Aviv," I said, trying to maintain some sense of control here

"All arranged as well," Panos said, giving me a sweeping gesture with his arms. "As it happens, I have a few rental cars as well. The Opel is available to you until you buy something of your own."

He sat there beaming at me, and I couldn't think of much of anything to say in return. His legend was bearing out. Despite this, I was flabbergasted when a waiter plunked down a double slug of scotch on ice in front of me even though we hadn't ordered anything.

"Jack Daniels Black label," Panos announced with a big sloppy grin.

"Quite right," I answered. "How did you know that was what I'd want?"

"I know all about you," Panos said with another grin. "That's my job here for IP; I'm what you Americans call the Jack of all trades for the operation here."

I wanted to counter that this particular saying had a second part, "but a master of none," but I sensed I did not want to get off on bad footing with the office manager. This was my first manager assignment, and I didn't want to immediately start alienating key local staffers, especially an office manager who obviously had his thumb on the pulse of everything I needed to be in good working order. But Panos was overpowering. And I was afraid that this might be leading to a struggle for power within the office, especially since Panos seemed to be in his mid forties, at least fifteen years older than I was.

"Surely not all about me," I said with a somewhat nervous laugh.

"Yes, all about you," Panos responded quietly, giving me an intense look. "And whatever you need, I'm here for you."

I swallowed hard on my scotch. I certainly hoped he didn't know everything about me. But, if he did, at least I wouldn't have the embarrassment of him trying to procure women for me. He seemed to have covered all of the other bases, and I had no doubt that he rented out women as well. "I can't think of anything you haven't already provided," I answered evenly, meeting him intense look for intense look.

And, upon looking so directly at him now, I could see that he was a handsome devil, like most Greek men of his age. He was powerfully built and on the stocky side—but not fat stocky; solid stocky. He had black curly hair with some gray in it that made him look distinguished rather than old, and he had the musculature of a young, vigorous man. Perhaps in other circumstances, I would have found him attractive. But it was going to be hard enough struggling with him for control of the office without getting involved in any complications.

Of course, I was right about the struggle for control of the office. Panos tried to interject himself between me and the rest of the local staff from day one, and it didn't help that I was much younger than he was—and certainly very young to be the bureau chief—and that he was able to use his connections to fulfill all of the office's logistical needs. It irked me that I was living in his accommodations, both in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, and driving his car—but he was a god of fixit in the eyes of the headquarters offices, and they seemed delighted that he could streamline these arrangements.

The arrangements for the trip to the northern coastal city of Haifa four weeks after my arrival would have been the last straw if I didn't need to get there and set up so quickly to cover a series of marketplace bombings that were seen as the opening salvo in a whole new terrorist campaign in the region. I'd tried to call in hotel reservations myself, but everywhere I tried was booked. Panos swept in at that point, naturally, and informed me that he happened to have a seaside cabana on the beach just south of Haifa where I could stay. He went on to say that it would be best if he went up there with me, because he could get me a camera crew on the spot and knew some officials there who would get us into the action quickly.

This was my job and this was my first important assignment as Israel bureau chief, so I swallowed my irritation, and Panos and I raced up the coast in a taxi he owned that would help us slip in under the radar of terrorists and the Israeli military alike.

The cabana was not much more than a motel room with a bath and kitchenette on the land side and a main room with a double bed and sliding glass doors out onto a small terrace overlooking rocks descending sharply into the Mediterranean. Just a double bed, which I looked at in dismay when we entered the unit at sunset after a long drive up the coast.

Sensing my concern while he was opening the curtains to the glass doors out onto the terrace, Panos said. "The unit's for you. I have someplace else to stay. Go ahead and hit the shower, and I'll check around to make sure the air conditioning and other things are working and let myself out. I'll pick you up at 6:30 in the morning for breakfast before we drive into Haifa to meet your camera crew."

The shower sounded great, so I went directly into the bathroom and stripped off my clothes and showered under a lukewarm stream of water that wasn't really any worse than what I had in my more modern Herzliya house.

When I came out of the shower, with just a towel wrapped around my waist, I found the lighting in the room muted and a beautiful sunset spanning the horizon of the Mediterranean through the glass wall. I also found a naked Panos stretched out on the double bed, facing me, his face set in a grin.

My dick took a lurch under the towel that I'm sure Panos couldn't miss. He was beautiful. Beautiful as in mature, solidly built, hirsute, horse-hung beautiful. Not an Apollo, but definitely a Zeus. A bottle of lubricant was on the bedspread beside him, and he had lathered up his prodigious, engorging cock and was stroking himself slowly with a fist.

After a minute of shock, I built up all of the anger and authority I could muster and told him in a low, threatening voice that I was going out on the terrace to watch the sunset and when I turned back to the room he'd better be dressed and gone.

I marched out onto the terrace and stood at its edge above the rocks descending to the waterline and fought to control myself. He was beautiful, his cock was gigantic, and my body ached for him. But I had long accepted that I couldn't mix my sexual life with my business responsibilities. And I was the bureau chief here. I couldn't mess around with the single biggest threat to my authority in the office.

I heard a noise behind me, and turned to find that Panos wasn't leaving. He'd come out onto the terrace, bottle of lubricant in hand, and had sat down right behind me on a plastic chair. I tried to walk past him and into the room, determined to leave, even though I had no idea where I could go. But he wrapped a fist around my wrist in a firm grip and pulled me to in front of him so that my legs encased his thighs. He pulled the towel off me, put his big hands on my butt cheeks, and pulled me into him. Leaning his head down, he had my now-stiff cock in his mouth and he was deep throating it, making pleasurable humming noises as he slowly pumped me.

I gasped and struggle weakly, having lost the war without barely having gone into battle. He had been right. He knew all about me. He knew I was weak. And he knew what I liked. I also could not argue in the least that he was a jack of all trades but a master of none. I now had to list seduction and sucking talent to his trade list, and there was no question that he was a master at both.

His tongue and teeth were doing wonders on my cock, and his well-lubricated fingers were already entering my ass while the palms of his big hands held and spread my butt cheeks. My loud protests turned to moans and gasps, and I became putty in his hands as I leaned my pelvis into his face and ran my hands through his hair.

He had four fingers in my ass, probing deeply, when my knees began to collapse. In response, he pulled his mouth away from my cock, pulled my chest into his, and held my buttocks up with his hands, but only briefly, while he maneuvered my asshole over his cock and rubbed his bulbous dick head around on my hole until it entered me to the rim of the head. I cried out in pain and fear at the size of him, but his hands were now forcing my butt cheeks down, and I slowly descended on his thick, long rod.

His searching mouth went to mine, and he possessed my lips and invaded my mouth with his tongue, stifling my cries as his cock stretched my ass walls to their limits and hosed its way up inside me. I writhed above him, which only helped him push deeper inside me. When I had settled to where I could feel his tennis ball-sized balls and his curly pubic hair tickling my tender butt cheeks, his lips and teeth went to my nipples, and I arched my back away from him.

We stayed there for long minutes, as my gasps and grunts turned to panting and moaning and his dick filled out to its full engorgement inside me. His tongue was racing around my pecs and up into my arm pits, and he moved to raise and lower my butt cheeks with his hands to provide friction for his cock inside me. With renewed strength, however, I held my hips close into his pelvis, preventing him from stroking inside me, enjoying the throbbing of his cock deep up my ass canal.

"Fuck me," he commanded in a hoarse whisper. "Move that sweet butt of yours up and down my shaft. Fuck me. Fuck yourself."

"No!" I said. "I'm not going to let you fuck me like this. I'm going to rise up off you and you're going to get up and leave and not come back until the morning. We can't do this. We're not going to have this in the office. This is the end of this, and you now will know every day that I am the boss and you are the employee—that you can't control me, and that I'm in charge."

Brave words, but it was taking every ounce of my strength and resolve not to give into him. I loved his cock inside me. I'd love for him to be fucking me wildly.

A guttural, almost animal sound came up in Panos's throat, and he grabbed my head between his hands and brutally attacked my mouth with his, trying to overcome my defenses. I deadened my lips to his, not responding, doing my best not to respond until he gave up.

I might have pulled it off if he hadn't been so strong. With a roar, he stood up and pulled his cock out of me with a big slurping sound. I thought he was going to turn and leave then, but he didn't. Instead, he turned me to facing him, picked me up with his hands on my waist, and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He then lurched into the room and dropped me on the bed. I scrambled up on my hands and knees on the top of the mattress and tried to move across the bed to put it between us. But he was too fast and strong for me. He dropped down on top of me, pushing the wind out of my body and completely pinning me. His hands grabbed my wrists, and he forced them up to the headboard, where I instinctively wrapped my fists around the brass rods there. He then reared up behind me and pulled me to my knees with an arm wrapped around my belly.

He entered me again then. Brutally and deeply. And he set up a stroking motion himself, one that started slow and deep and accelerated to long and rapid until he had me panting and moaning again and bucking my hips in obvious desire for his pumping action.

He buried a fist in my hair, pulled my head back to his, and asked me now if I wanted him to stop and leave, but I was too far gone for that. I admitted I loved what he was doing to me and for him to continue. He kissed me on the mouth brutally again, and this time I opened entirely to him. He covered my body closely with his then, his lips pressed into the side of my neck, his arms stretched out over mine, and his strong thighs squeezing mine so that my ass canal tightly sheathed his cock. Only his pelvis and my hips were in motion, as he fucked me deeply, and I pushed my buttocks back into him in an insistent, answering rhythm. The first climax came in nearly simultaneous spouts of cum from us both—him deep inside me and me up my belly as my cock stroked the bedspread.

After he had conquered me that first time and I no longer could put up a pretense of not wanting him, our hands and tongues explored each other's crevices and curves as we both reloaded. And then Panos fucked me roughly for almost an hour nonstop, in several positions. And I loved every stroke of his huge cock inside me.

We slept, entwined in each other's arms, and then, as a reddish-yellow line was forming again along the horizon of the Mediterranean, we woke, and Panos fucked me again—this time more tenderly, belly to belly, my ankles resting on his shoulders, so that we could look each other in the eyes and convey just how much we were enjoying each other's bodies. I met him stroke for stroke and we came together in a combined sigh of release.

Panos's mastery of all he tried was borne out again the next day, as he did a magnificent job of pulling the camera crew together and cajoling the local authorities to let us get close to the action as another set of bombs rocked the downtown Haifa area. I received kudos from the home office on our reporting of the Haifa events. There was still the question of control, of course, and Panos was bold in taking me whenever and wherever he wanted from that day forward. So, I should have quickly asked for a transfer away from this situation. But I became addicted to Panos's cockiness and to his huge cock and to the mastery with which he used it inside me, and it was a couple of years before I was able to break away from the orbit of this Greek god of mine.