Greece Frightnin'

I recently hooked up with a guy who was very loud in bed. Which is fine, sometimes – it makes everything hotter in the moment, and lets you know that you’re certainly doing something right! But it reminded me of an incident that happened a few years ago, when I’d hooked up with a bona-fide Frat Boy.

Lots of gay men have a Frat Boy fantasy – I dunno if it’s about the (alleged) straight-ness, or the living in a house with a bunch of men, or the potentially naked hazing... Anyway this one was especially proud of his Greek-ness. I think it’s because he wasn’t just Frat-Greek, he was Greek-Greek – as in he’d been born somewhere outside of Athens. Of course he was totally Americanized... or so I thought.

That night we went back to my place and soon enough we were parking the pink Plymouth in the love garage. Soon we reached the point where I could tell he was about to climax. And then climax he did, and was very vocal about it. But the vocals were nothing I’d ever hear before.

"Ιερά Ψάρια αυγά! Μητέρα φυστικοβούτυρο! βραχίονα μαλλιά προσκοπίνα λεπτό μέντας! Γυρίστε μου σχετικά με ένα δολάριο την άμμο! Βροχές κουτί άμμου πάνω μου! στροφές και το νερό το πρόσωπό μου πράσινο! αγοράζουν μου ένα κόκκινο φεγγάρι!"

What the hell was he saying? Was it good? Bad? Uncontrollable? Was he really so lost in the moment that he unconsciously reverted back to his native tongue? Part of me really wanted to know what he’d said, but I felt it better not to ask. It was all Greek to me.