In the spring of 1976 Paul and his family went on holiday to the Mediterranean island of Cyprus. It had been two years since the Turks had invaded the island and occupied the northern third of the country. The Greek Cypriots had fled to the south and the tourists were staying away. That was the only reason that his family could afford the luxury villa that they rented close to the town of Pyla, near the demarcation zone.

Paul was probably the most beautiful boy on the island, he was possibly the most beautiful boy in the whole world, and definitely more beautiful than most of the female population. Paul was nearly 14 years old and remarkably tall for his age. His hair was blonde and cut into a fringe at the front and trimmed shoulder length at the back and sides. His eyes were large and of the deepest blue with eyelashes that a giraffe would have been proud of. His button nose surmounted lips that were full and luscious and entirely kissable. His teeth were white and even. His body was well developed and hairless and he still retained some of his baby fat, around his hips and his breasts, which formed as love handles and titties. His penis was entirely in proportion to the rest of his physique, an admirable five inches when soft, and nearly eight when erect. But the most wonderful and striking part of his anatomy were his legs. It appeared that his head and torso constituted a third of his height, but that his legs formed the other two thirds. And then, just to compound his perfection, there was his skin, a flawless complexion. Surely there was some mark, some scar, to mar his beauty, but no, his buttermilk skin was smooth with only a faint vaccination mark on his upper arm

The effect on all those who came into contact with this Adonis was predictable. Women fell in love with him, schoolgirls were infatuated with him, men were jealous except those men who were sexually aroused and besotted with him. Out of his earshot he was the constant source of gossip and speculation; Was he really only 13? Did he have a girlfriend? did he have a boyfriend? Was he a virgin?

What exasperated and puzzled everyone was that Paul seemed quite unaware of how desirable and beautiful he was. He was so modest, so unassuming, so polite. Did he never catch sight of himself naked in a mirror and feel even a little narcissistic or sexually excited at his own reflection? Those detractors, jealous and spiteful, called him 'Saint' Paul.

On this particular day Paul was bored and went to the local garage and borrowed a bicycle. The weather was glorious and he was soon pedalling along the pot-holed roads and the dusty cart tracks. He took his shirt off and stuffed it into the saddle bag and rolled his shorts up to the tops of his beautiful legs. The warm breeze was blissful and he loved the feel of the sun on his bare arms and legs. He would have cycled in the nude but he didn't dare. When he decided to go back to the villa he realised that he was a bit lost, but he knew that if he headed south and downhill toward the sea that he should be all right. He was coasting down a track when he encountered a tarmac road. he turned south onto it and rounded a curve. And there just yards ahead of him was a check-point with a barrier and two armed guards. He skidded to a halt.

The guards were facing the other way and the signs were pointing in the opposite direction and he realised to his horror that somewhere he had accidentally crossed into the Turkish controlled part of the island. His initial reaction was to throw the bike around and cycle away, but already the soldiers were unslinging their rifles and shouting at him. There were two of them, one clearly younger than the other, the older one was shorter and stocky. They wore the shabby uniforms of Turkish conscripts and next to the road barrier was an equally shabby guard hut, sheltered by a group of olive trees. He sat on the bike, nervously gripping the handlebars, his lovely legs spread out each side to keep his balance. He was scared and he felt naked and vulnerable and wished he hadn't taken his shirt off. They were demanding 'identification' and 'passport' but he had nothing on him except his shirt and shorts.

The older one, a corporal named Ayaz slung his rifle back onto his shoulder and took hold of the bike's handlebar and the younger man, a private named Omer grabbed Paul's wrist and pulled him off the saddle. Paul tried to protest but they knew little English and he knew no Turkish. Together they took his bike and led him to their hut. They leaned the bike against the wall of the hut and turned their attention to him. They were looking him up and down and talking to each other and he could only guess at what they were saying. Then they took him into the guard hut.

Inside it was hot and gloomy, the only furniture was a rickety table and a chair. The table was littered with newspapers, a pornographic magazine, tin cups and an ashtray. The only light came through a cracked and dirty plastic window. The younger guard Omer was standing behind him and the older one, Ayaz in front of him. Ayaz was leering at him and Paul saw the glint of a gold tooth. Now they were talking about him, and not to him. Ayaz was running his eyes up and down Paul's bare torso, taking in his fair skin and creamy complexion. And then he reached up with one hand and gripped Paul's right nipple between his finger and thumb, and began to pinch it and twist it. Paul instinctively tried to push Ayaz hand away and Ayaz let go, and then he slapped Paul, quite hard, across his face. Tears sprang to Paul's eyes and his bottom lip was trembling but he was determined to be brave. Now Ayaz took hold of both of Paul's nipples in his hands and continued his treatment of them, not only pinching and twisting, but pulling them out from his chest.

Behind him Paul felt the breath of Omer on his back and felt Omer's hands running up the back of his bare leg, and then groping his bottom and fingering the crease between his cheeks.

"Please stop it" Paul begged them, "please let me go" but he was helpless and lost.

Then Omer put his hands around Paul's waist and began feeling for and finding the button that held up Paul's skimpy shorts.

"No, no!" Paul cried out, but Omer's response was to take hold of both Paul's hands and clamp them firmly down on the top of his head. There was nothing that Paul could do, he stood there with his hands on top of his head while Omer undid the button. Paul's flimsy, rolled- up shorts dropped down to his ankles and he was naked.

There was a long silence broken only by Paul's sobs and the men's heavy breathing. They feasted their eyes on Paul's marvellous nudity, and the delicious virgin felt like so much young meat on a butcher's block and he knew they wanted to satisfy their sexual lust for him.

Ayaz in front of him stared down at Paul's generous genitals, then reached down and took hold of the innocent boy's balls, rolling them between his fingers, and then he grabbed hold of Paul's heavy penis. Ayaz was in awe at such a specimen of pubescent boyhood and felt its weight and then began pulling the skin back and forth and stretching it. Behind him, Omer was exploring Paul's full, soft, pale bottom, untouched by the sun, squeezing and massaging the cheeks and probing between them. Paul remained at their mercy, staring straight ahead but seeing nothing and feeling ashamed that the pulling on his penis was affecting him and his cock was responding.

Ayaz let go of Paul's bloated penis and turned around to the table. With a single sweep of his arm, he cleared the table-top of all the newspapers, pornographic magazines, and cups and the tin ashtray. Then he pulled poor Paul to the table and pushed the boy forward, so that he was stretched across the table's rough and splintered surface. Omer went round to the head of the table and kneeling down grasped tight hold of Paul by his wrists to hold him down. Omer was grinning at their victim, displaying a set of uneven, unclean teeth and was shouting encouragement to his older colleague. Paul was crying now but the pain of the splinters in his chest was nothing compared to the pain that he was about to suffer. Behind him Ayaz was hurriedly loosening the buttons of his shabby uniform trousers and then he used his booted foot to kick Paul's ankles apart so that his long, shapely legs were well spread. Ayaz's calloused hands then pulled the soft cheeks of Paul's bottom apart and Paul heard him spitting and then he felt Ayaz hot saliva land on his virgin hole. Paul parted his kissable lips to cry out in despair, but Omer spat a glob of saliva straight into Paul's open mouth.

There was no-one to hear Paul's cries or his screams as the two soldiers took turns to enjoy raping him. While Ayaz took his first turn, Omer released his grip on Paul's wrists and got to his feet and extracted his lean cock from his trousers and began feeding it into Paul's mouth. After they had both fucked the angelic thirteen year old, but before they had achieved their orgasms, they turned Paul over and drew his dimpled knees up to his chin and fucked him that way, now able to hurt his titties and his throbbing penis while they were at it. When they were exhausted they smoked cigarettes, drank deeply from a bottle of raki and Ayaz relieved himself, pissing over Paul's bruised body.

Paul lay in the corner of the hut on the rough stone floor, shivering but not with cold. He was resigned to his fate. Escape was impossible. They would catch hold of him and inflict worse punishment. He was naked, and where was there to run to. Blood was drying between his perfect thighs. His soft, fat titties bore the scars inflicted by dirty fingernails,

Their vigour and desire and erections restored, Ayaz and Omer returned to the task of abusing, defiling and fucking their loveboy. Slightly befuddled by the raki they giggled like girls, and the more they hurt Paul, and the harder he cried, the more heartily they laughed. When their rude cocks were shrivelled and their wicked lust well spent, they kicked Paul naked out of the hut and threw his shorts after him. Paul staggered to his feet and pulled his shorts on to cover his bruised and buggered bottom, and on uncertain feet, he pulled the bicycle onto the road. The inebriated Turks raised the road barrier and Paul slowly walked free, too sore and weak to mount the saddle of the bike. He walked down the road, the laughter and obscenities of Ayaz and Omer ringing in his ears. As soon as he was out of their sight, he pushed the bike off the road and went into the bushes. The buggered boy cast his shorts aside, leant his weight against a tree and masturbated furiously. His man-sized penis had been erect throughout his ordeal.

A week later to the day, and Paul had recovered sufficiently to venture out again. He had kept his bruises and his scars and the fact of his rape to himself, and blamed his absence from the swimming pool on an asthma attack. The bicycle lay against the villa wall where he had abandoned it. Now he was ready, now he had prepared himself. He wore a shirt and a pair of shorts and flip-flops on his feet. In the saddle bag he had the items he needed to fulfil his plan. It was early afternoon when he pedalled off and he was soon recognising landmarks that he remembered from his journey back to the villa the week before. He hoped that he would arrive at the check-point at approximately the same time as last week, and that the same two guards would be on duty. He was not to be disappointed.

He arrived at the stretch of road and the turn off that led to the border post. He saw the same tree that he had masturbated against and wheeled the bike there. The sunlight through the trees dappled his perfect complexion. Paul stripped off his shirt and his shorts and stood gloriously naked. From the saddle bag he removed a paper bag containing various items. He selected a stub of lipstick, removed from his mother's dressing table, and lightly applied it to his full, kissable lips. Then he repeated the process to his nipples. He took his penis, which was already hardening, in his hand and touched the lipstick to his cock-head. He took a piece of plastic mirror and checked his appearance in it. Also in the paper bag was a tube of vaseline. He squeezed a lump of the lubricant onto his finger and carefully smeared it between the cheeks of his splendid bottom, anointing his hairless hole. Satisfied with his preparations, he took from the paper bag the final article, a pair of delicate lace lemon-yellow panties. He stepped into them and drew them up the length of his immaculate thighs. They were too small to be comfortable and could not contain his rigid penis, which protruded rudely above the stretched waistband. Satisfied, he stepped back into the road, naked except for flip-flops and girl's panties, and walked slowly to the turn-off and the checkpoint.

The red and white striped barrier came into view and the guard hut. Paul's already pounding heart missed a beat, there was an olive-green jeep parked by the hut and a soldier with sergeant's stripes on his sleeve was leaning against it, smoking a cigarette. At the same time that the sergeant saw Paul, Ayaz and Omer appeared from the hut. Paul was exhilarated, there were three of them! The Turkish guards gazed in wonder at the apparition before them, a Venus with a penis! 'Sex on legs' was the thought that sprang to the sergeant's mind. Paul stood silently and meekly at the barrier, his head slightly bowed in submission, trembling with excitement and expectation. He so wanted to look his best for them!

The End