While waiting for the monoboles, Titus and Sextus settled in at Verus's.
- Gaius Calvisius is not a man to use Hierokles. But he had a game that seemed to know our monoboles. Calvisius will not deprive himself of a little interlude. Did it go well with Marcellus?
- If you mean the grizzled novice, we left him exhausted with satisfaction! Who is he?
- Ulpius Marcellus, member of Antoninus Augustus' Private Council, and until now an example of moral rigor. Seeing him at Euphorion's is the most surprising consequence of the two emperors' departure on campaign.
- They left?
- This morning. The convoy had barely advanced on the Via Flaminia when Marcellus ran up, without even taking the time to change. You greeted him in his ceremonial attire! We haven't seen much of each other these last few days. With the preparations for departure, Verus has often been held up at the palace, and so have I. How are things going here? It's been a fortnight or so since you arrived. -
- Seventeen!
- Good, I see you can still tell the difference between day and night. Are you enjoying yourself?
- This is certainly not the kind of service my father had in mind when he sent me to his senator relative to join the praetorians, but Gaius Calvisius says I've become a real little soldier all the same. "Always ready," he nicknamed me..
- It's true that as a genuine Roman citizen, you enter his hunting grounds.
- Just like you!
- I've been more of a beater lately!
- How so?
- I’ll tell you about it another time, I’d like to know more about you first. Your rapid metamorphosis from a little virgin to a perfect Giton has disappointed Verus. “Always ready” is not really what he expected of you. Besides, rather than Petronius’ Giton, we should think of Vergilius’ Alexis. Aren’t you from Mantua, like the great Maro?
- Indeed, my family even prides itself on descending from a veteran of Octavius Augustus, who is said to have witnessed the poet’s last days. Since she gave birth to Vergilius, Mantua has always prided itself on its cultural excellence. I am the youngest of six brothers and my mother had ambitions for me that were a little higher than participating in the life of the family farm. I had a private tutor, who taught me Greek, the rudiments of oratory and the art of writing verses."
Cuddled by his mother, scolded by his brothers, he became solitary at the age of emerging from childhood. Disobeying his mother, he ventured into the countryside surrounding the villa and soon discovered the physical relationships that could unite a man and a woman. All the animals on the farm reproduced in this way. How could it be any different for humans? During these escapades, he had surprised couples of slaves in the middle of copulation, but were slaves fully human? No, the evolved race of free people must have known a less bestial mode of procreation. His mind refused to imagine his parents lowering themselves to such touching. Living together, sleeping against each other must have been enough, invisible moods then passed from the man to the woman, and fertilized her. Sextus showed himself more distant towards his mother. He felt that his transformation into an adult was beginning within him, and by approaching him too often, wouldn't he…
Reality eventually got the better of these imaginary constructions. He was the fruit of one of these couplings. But instead of seeing it as the consecration of his parents' love, his birth was for him nothing more than the inevitable but involuntary offshoot of a carnal union from which he would always be excluded. His mother did not understand the shifty look, this coldness that contrasted with the repeated embraces of his childhood. His father was worried about the adolescent's growing taste for solitude, this new kind of shyness that made his son flee to the depths of the villa at the slightest visit. In fact, Sextus spent entire days spying on the slaves on the farm, remaining fascinated when a couple of them found themselves in secret. At least that was how he analyzed this hunt. But why was he so disappointed when, from his observation post, a pile of straw or a bush completely hid the male body from him, while the female anatomy was entirely revealed to him?
The beginning of an answer came to him on one of those first warm spring days, a foretaste of the summer heatwave of the Po Valley. During one of his escapades, the burning sun at its zenith forced him to seek refuge under the shade of a bush at the top of a small hill. Below, a stream brought coolness and murmurs. Louder lapping pulled him from his reverie; a man had crossed the small river. Procullus advanced, crawling under the branches. At the foot of the escarpment, a bend in the stream had formed a small sandy beach. Through the sieve of leaves that concealed him, he discovered another slave lying on his back, naked. The newcomer also took off his scanty clothing. Between his strong thighs, a thick cock hung, threatening. The two men soon rolled on the sand in a tight embrace. The fight was not equal, the youngest (Alexis) let himself be carried by the powerful musculature of the other (Corydon), whose vigorous hand rummaged between the thin buttocks. And when at times he saw the two crossed dicks between the tight bodies, one seemed the double of the other. Alexis straightened up suddenly, immobilizing his friend on his back. Springing from a luxuriant tuft of hair, the brown phallus stood imperiously. Two eager lips swallowed it without waiting, while one hand gripped the base of the shaft and the other closed on the heavy balls. Hoarse grunts resounded in the burning silence.
Procullus had never been so excited. His shoulders were shaking convulsively, his heart was beating faster. He had slipped a hand under his tunic and, fascinated, was caressing himself. Corydon had regained the upper hand, turned the group around and, his thighs pressing his partner's shoulders to the ground, his gigantic cock was thrusting into the wide open mouth. Leaning forward, his two hands spread the globes of the ass, and insistently his fingers dilated the young slave's slit. Sextus had seized his member with both hands and was jerking himself off. He was barely hiding himself any more, but down below the two men were too busy to notice. With enthusiastic docility, Alexis had knelt down, then leaning forward, he guided the shepherd's outstretched stick between his buttocks. He seemed to be looking for the ideal fit and took hold. The shaft sank halfway in this single stroke.
Procullus' emotion then turned into a hypnotic trance, his hand rubbing his member in the same regular rhythm as the thick cock entered and exited his ass under the pelvic thrust. After a long ride, Corydon withdrew one last time, whitish jets spurted out, spreading over his buttocks and lower back. Straightening up on his knees, Alexis, his fingers clenched on his own cock, squirted in turn, and his cum sprayed the ground. The two slaves collapsed in the sand. Procullus, despite his excitement, had the reflex to retreat under the protection of the bushes. After a moment, they got up, washed themselves in the stream, put their tunics back on and each went their separate ways. Sextus came down from his hiding place. On the small beach, the sand had preserved the mark of their last embrace. He slipped into the mold and, lifting his tunic, a short masturbation was enough to make his fully erect phallus ejaculate, sending repeated jets of semen in several spasms. The white salvos joined that of the young slave, already partly absorbed by the sand.
This coupling of two men had given him a glimpse of a carnal union that could not be reduced to the animal need for procreation. His solitary hunts had now found their object. As soon as the weather permitted, he returned to his observation post above the small beach. The wait was most often disappointed and before returning, an increasingly expert hand, eyes closed on memories, gave him a substitute pleasure. Attentive, he surprised other slaves in the barns, and in one summer his apprenticeship was complete. But he would never have taken the step of accosting a slave, and the reverse could not happen.
----
When Hierokles joins Drussus and Procullus, he smiles when he sees them chatting. Still excited by the two little fauns, cock erect and sperm oozing from his ass, he grabs his dick : "Monoboles!" Drussus stands up and, without even touching himself, replies "Pilum!", his cock immediately taking a vertical position. The two men, thus armed, approach the Cisalpine, whose whole face is already beaming with desire. The Greek invites Sextus to place himself between them. Squeezed between the two powerful males, Hierokles in front, Drussus behind, Procullus feels the thick cocks stretched against his belly and lower back. The tribune caresses the neck and shoulders of the young soldier, slowly running along the spinal groove, and making his caress lighter and lighter as he reaches the small of the back, he brushes the buttresses of the two buttocks with his fingertips. In the middle the ass valley opens out, revealing its throbbing chasm. The two men kneel. Paulus retraces this delicious path with his tongue, ending in the intimate cavern. The wet tip crosses the ring. One buttock in each hand, the Greek slides his thumbs into the deep valley and opens the fleshy ass as one does with a ripe fruit.
At the same time, Hierokles had caressed the youthful torso, from the fine pectorals to the short bush of hair at the base of the erect member. The Greek sucks the nipples, licks the waves of the flat belly, and, skirting the rod that comes to beat his face, he throws himself greedily on the perfectly round balls that he swallows in his mouth. He chews them delicately, making his owner moan with pleasure. Then, slowly regurgitating these two very ripe fruits, he attacks the one that adorns the end of the branch and, with small strokes of his expert tongue, licks the head, making the whole member vibrate like a rope stretched by excitement.
The tongue twists the corolla which opens widely, the Roman's face sinks between the two buttocks. The monoboles swallows the tail in its entire length and tries to suck the balls as well. Trapped between these two men kissing through his body, Sextus is once again nothing more than a young animal in rut.
The tribune slowly gets up, his tongue continuing all along the spine to the nape of the neck. His member slides between the thighs, dripping with saliva. The head finds the wide open well. Procullus stands on his legs. The dagger plunges up to the hilt into the entrails. Drussus tightly grasps Hierokles' head and smashes Procullus' ass and the Greek's face with great thrusts. The monoboles guides the young Roman's hands, caressing the smooth thighs then the round buttocks. The fingers venture into the deep crack. Thumbs glide over the cum that coats the vibrating well. This literally sucks the first phalanges. A pressure on Sextus' hands and the two fingers sink up to the hilt. The cisalpine is now nothing more than the instrument of pleasure for the two lovers. Drussus' tail seems to extend into Hierokles' throat and the Greek responds by pistoning the ring with his fingers. Procullus in the middle has his pleasure quadrupled. Panting he has a hard time containing his orgasm. Finally his two index fingers added by the monoboles distend the corolla. Drussus responds with a roar. Sextus immediately feels a thick juice flood his insides, making his balls overflow. The cum spurts into Drussus' throat, who discharges without even touching himself.
Drained of their sap, the three bodies collapse. The mass of naked flesh, stained with sperm, oil and sweat, remains motionless for a moment, in the limbo of ecstasy.
When they regain consciousness, their mouths seek each other again, then begin a rough toilet. Not a drop of cum escapes their tongues, even in the most intimate of corners. Finally, Sextus finds himself tightly entwined between the massive bodies.
- I am surprised to see you still here Hierokles, did not Elgabalus leave Rome yesterday?
- I am no longer part of the king's harem, Sextus. Marcus Aurelius Augustus had reiterated his order for him to return home to the East before his own departure. Living since his arrival in Rome on the generosity of Verus, it was impossible for him to stay anyway and, no more than the other favorites of Lucius Caesar, he did not want to see the snows of the Alps. Only to return with dignity to the East, the imperial credit had dried up. The imperial administration of the treasury opposed a refusal to his financial requests, and this without even having to lie, part of the ceremonial tableware of the imperial palace had had to be sold at auction to finance the military campaign. As for Verus, the rout of his favorites, the repeated refusal to see you accompany him, had made him deaf to the king's requests. Elgabalus had only to monetize his only real asset, his monoboles. Euphorion made him a more than generous offer, but was intractable on the lot he wanted: David, Protogenes, the Aloades and me. The Syrian, after long palaver to keep me, gave in. He embarked for the East, without even Gordius, who took advantage of his status of freedman to stay here.
- Let Elgabalus not complain too much, his lot remains rather enviable. His little principality awaits him. He will always have the support of the emperor, as a pawn against the machinations of the governor Cassius who is beginning to worry. Not having the luck of Elgabalus, many of Verus' favorites will return to the mire of Suburra. As for you, young friend, Hierokles now monoboles of Euphorion and I guard of an empty palace, we will have plenty of opportunity to perfect your education.
- Speaking of education, Hierokles, it seems that you have begun that of the austere Ulpius Marcellus. You've got to tell us about that.
- And the student, despite his reputation, was not shy. But, why me, why at that moment, I could not say. It was last week, late at night. I was on duty with Elgabalus. As he was detained by the imperial reception, during which he lost all illusions of remaining in Rome, I was waiting for his return near the great peristyle of the ancient Domus Tiberiana, where the king has his lodgings. You know that wherever we are, Elgabalus insists that his monoboles, if they do not have stiff lances, are at least always completely naked. This part of the imperial complex is generally deserted at this late hour of the night. I heard the sound of footsteps. It was still too early for it to be Elgabalus. Wanting to avoid a perhaps awkward confrontation with a guard or one of the guests who had left the imperial reception early, I took refuge in the garden that adorns the center of the peristyle, lying down on a bench behind a bush and pretending to sleep. The footsteps stopped, the man must have seen me disappear behind the vegetation. I heard his footsteps approaching on the gravel of the garden. Slightly opening my eyelids, I made out Senator Marcellus motionless a few steps away from me, his gaze fixed on my naked body. I made a slight movement, as if in my sleep, thinking to make him leave. He did indeed step back, but to hide behind a column. I decided to have a little fun, the voyeur would be satisfied. I straightened up and stretched my arms, as if coming out of a short nap and advanced towards the fountain that gushes forth in the middle of the garden."
Sprinkling himself with water from the fountain, Hierokles begins by polishing himself. Turning his back to the columns of the peristyle, his hands slide over his thighs, smoothing the abundant dark down, then the plump and round buttocks, the hips, the back, the shoulders, the neck. Under the pressure of the palms the supple muscles deform. The monoboles turns around, presenting himself face on, his torso with prominent pectorals, covered with a dense black fleece, which overflowed onto his stomach as far as his navel, again his buttocks, his thighs. He caresses his sex as if distractedly.
"I could now feel the fixed and fascinated gaze. I wanted to test his stoicism. I went back to lie down on the bench, taking care to expose, legs apart, all the beauty of my anatomy, and simulated sleep again."
It is only after a very long time that Marcellus finally leaves his hiding place and approaches Hierokles. His gaze is fixed on the imposing sex, springing from a thick tuft of black hair and spreading over the hairy skin of a muscular thigh. Up against the bench, he would surely have remained fascinated for a long time, had the monoboles not intervened. Slowly the Greek slides his arm on the bench. His hand reaches under the tunic. He caresses the thigh, then going back up he brushes the penis with his hand. Marcellus doesn't balk, just close his eyes. The monoboles gets up and with a gesture undresses the Roman. He is surprised by what he discovers. An austere life has magnificently preserved the achievements of a rural youth, and if the hair is whitening, the anatomy is more than pleasant. Hierokles flatters the magnificent instrument with the flat of his hand in the middle of a graying fleece. The balls in the hollow of his palm, he caresses them with his thumb, while his other fingers slowly massage the base of the penis.
The Greek stands up and kisses the face barely wrinkled by age, the nose, the cheeks, the quivering eyelids. He feels the warm breath of the panting breath. A light virile odor rises from his chest. Hierokles forces his tongue into the Roman's mouth. At first hesitant, then bolder, the kiss continues. The taste of their saliva mixes with that of the Roman's own juice, strange but quite pleasant. Hierokles has not released the Roman's reed, which he continues to polish methodically. And soon the dick swells under the bubbling of the flow. The Greek moves away, the jets of cum spurt onto his torso, up to his chin. Swaying, Marcellus sits on the bench. Before his eyes stands the thick lance of the monoboles. From the foreskin covering the glans a transparent drop rolls down the shaft and gets lost in the thick bush covering the contracted balls.
"I had the feeling that he couldn't go any further for a first experience. He was there staring at my spear raised in front of his lips, without even trying anything. The excitement multiplied my means, and without even touching myself I managed to spunk. I covered his face with white jelly. He still didn't move. I wiped my cum with his tunic and slipped away, leaving him like a statue. Since then I hadn't had the opportunity to meet him and I didn't think I'd find him here, until Euphorion told me to make myself available to him in Elgabal's old room."
