I always wanted to take a Mediterranean cruise, specifically one that visited the places mentioned in Homer’s epic poem, “The Odyssey.” But my longtime girlfriend never wanted to go.

So, after the two of us split, I decided to make my dream happen and booked the trip. I would travel alone, soaking up the sun and thinking about anything but women. How ironic then that I would end up having a torrid sexual adventure with a stunning female.

My journey began at the site of ancient Troy in Turkey, and for ten days the ship would visit various Greek locales, including where Homer’s main character Odysseus and his men supposedly met the Cyclops, and the island where Calypso, the sea nymph, kept Odysseus in a sexual stupor for seven years. The cruise even gave us travelers homework; we had a list of recommended texts to ensure we understood the historic and literary importance of our stops. I spent a few days rereading the poem and was psyched.

But from the very first day of the cruise I realized I would be distracted. One of the tour guides, a graduate student in Classics who had actually read the poem in the original Greek, was an absolutely stunning beauty. I haven’t been in college for quite a few years, but this woman, Joy, was everything any man could desire. Not only was she beautiful and intelligent, she was completely charming and laughed at my jokes.

She was employed by the cruise company and stayed on the ship for the duration. That meant not only would I see her each day on the tours and excursions, she’d be there on the boat at night. Suddenly, I didn’t care about the Cyclops at all as I imagined Joy naked in my arms.

The cruise guests were mostly elderly people. I was the youngest — and also the only one traveling solo. Therefore, at dinner, I gravitated toward Joy to avoid being adopted by one of the older couples as some sort of surrogate son. She seemed to enjoy my company, so I didn’t feel like I was bugging her.

When we visited Calypso’s island and she helped me into “Calypso’s Cave” (I’m a little claustrophobic), I think a corner was turned. She held my hand while we went in, and when I came out, with my heart pounding, she had an arm wrapped around me. An old lady looked at us, smiled and said we were a cute couple. I, breathing heavily, said, “Yes, she’s my Calypso.”

I called her Calypso for the rest of the trip, and on our penultimate night I made sure she knew what cabin I was in. I wasn’t going to make an ass of myself by hitting on her and left the choice to her. If she didn’t come, I’d just jerk off thinking about her.

Around midnight there was a soft knock on my door. “Who is it?” I asked stupidly, climbing out of bed.

“Calypso,” came Joy’s reply.

I opened the door, and there she stood, wearing a bathrobe. She was carrying a bottle of champagne. “I purloined this. Shall we?”

I opened the bubbly, and we each had a glass. I told her about my recent breakup, and she was sympathetic.

“Gosh, if I had a guy who wanted to take me on a Mediterranean cruise I wouldn’t let him go.”

She told me she did not have a boyfriend, although there was a guy back home that she was sort of involved with.

“I think you’re very attractive,” I said.

She smiled and replied, “The feeling is mutual.” She stood and slipped off her robe, revealing nothing underneath. I stood and slipped out of my shorts, my cock standing taller than it had in many a moon. She stood close to me and began gently sliding her hand up and down my shaft as we exchanged a deep and meaningful kiss.

I would have been happy just to feel her stroking my dick, but she had more in mind and dropped to her knees and began sucking me. Oh, was she talented. Joy’s technique wasn’t fancy; it was just old-fashioned head. But she knew how to make her lips and tongue linger enough to send a shiver up my spine.

“She urged me on in a series of words that were of no language I knew.”

Joy had a great deal of stamina, but my knees were buckling, so I indicated we should adjourn to the bed. I laid her down on her back, put her legs in the air and zoomed in on her pussy, which was shaved clean and leaking honey. She tasted great, and I ate her like a starving man. She made soft whimpering sounds and urged me on in a series of words that were of no language I knew.

I’ve always enjoyed cunnilingus, and I like to think I’m good at it. I have this little game where I use my tongue to write letters of the alphabet, from “A” to “Z.” Joy was having fun, and came right after I licked the letter “X.”

My face was glazed with her nectar, and we were both ready to fuck. I suggested we slip out on the balcony. (I’d splurged for the pricey room). There was a nice breeze blowing and the moon was full, so it couldn’t have been more romantic. She leaned against the railing, the moonlight dancing off her long, silky blonde hair as she pushed her ass back toward me. I lined up my cock with her opening and sank it in. She was so wet that I felt like a hot knife in butter.

After a few moments of heated fucking she whimpered, “Spank me.” I was happy to oblige and gave her a few whacks on the ass. She was starting to get very loud. I’ve never been big on sex in public, so I urged her back inside. She flung herself on the bed with her legs parted. It was as open an invitation as I have ever received. I climbed aboard and refitted my engorged cock into her cunt as she rested her feet on my shoulders. I was so turned on that I started to feel woozy with lust.

“Make me come,” Joy urged, and I slammed into her full force. She clutched my forearms in her hands and bubbled into another orgasm. “Oh, you’re doing it,” she shouted, and I felt the vise-like grip of her pussy walls on my dick. I managed to keep myself from climaxing as she shivered in rapture.

After Joy had recovered from her orgasm, she pushed me onto my back and once again focused on my prick, which was now harder than it had been in years. She looked me in the eye with her baby blues and licked and nipped at my erection while stroking it up and down. She read my reactions pretty well and slowed down when I showed signs of coming. We were saving me up for one super-duper ejaculation, and it wasn’t time yet.

Joy spent some time sucking my aching balls before she climbed on top of me for some old-fashioned cowgirl. We quickly got into a groove, where I would lift my hips and she would meet them with her own downward motion. I put my hands on her luscious tits, which hadn’t yet received any of my attention. She stopped, my cock buried inside her, to let me suck on her nipples. She wasn’t speaking English words, just a steady stream of gibberish. It could have been ancient Greek for all I knew.

I was ready to come so she got on her knees, and we had ourselves a doggy-style party. I had lost control of myself and doubt I could have given you my full name. To add a little spice, I wormed my thumb into her asshole, which was winking at me. This made her emit a guttural howl, and to my satisfaction, I realized she was going to come again.

Soon she was flat on her stomach, biting the pillow. I was squatting above and behind her, my balls full and my cock ready to explode. When I announced this, she clamoured for me to come in her mouth. I pulled out and began spurting, and the first few shots landed on her face before she swallowed my spasming organ, taking the rest of my come down her willing throat.

We collapsed in each other’s arms. Somewhere in the wee hours I heard her taking a shower, and then she put on her robe, kissed me on the forehead and slipped out. She left a note which said, in ancient Greek, “Your Calypso will always remember you” (I had to translate it myself when I got home).

The next day we were in Athens, and my flight home departed from there. Sitting on the plane I recalled the smell of Joy which was seared into my memory. I took out my copy of “The Odyssey” and started to reread the Calypso section but got a very uncomfortable erection. I think the woman sitting next to me noticed it because she gave me a look of disapproval. She probably had quite a story to tell her friends about the man who got a hard-on while reading Homer.

I put the book aside, leaned back and went to sleep as I flew across the Atlantic — and dreamed of Calypso.

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