Sextus, leaning against the wall, had regained a nice erection just by looking at the two Greeks. He joined Otos and Ephialtes in the center of the carpet, and as soon as he was squeezed between the two massive bodies, he felt a cock point at his stomach and another search the crack of his ass. His own is wedged between the thighs of one of the Germans, let's say Otos, his head rubbing against his swollen balls. Ephialtes, at his back, wrapped his powerful arms just under his ribs and squeezed him even tighter. Otos placed his hands on his pectorals and began to work the small nipples. Procullus approved, grumbling, his ecstasy demanding ever stronger pleasures. Ephialtes ran his hands over his stomach, rubbing the head as he went. He firmly interlaced his legs around those of the Cisalpine. Sextus twists his neck to kiss him as the monoboles begins to lift him off the ground while spreading his thighs. Procullus slides his hands behind his bull's neck to hang and cling to it. Otos takes the opportunity to lick his pecs, but is careful not to immediately make contact with the tips of his nipples. The young man arches his back to better stretch his little ass and puff out his chest, offering his chest to the slimy, greedy tongue.
Procullus lets out a cry and all his muscles tense when Otos sinks his teeth into the overexcited flesh of the nipples. At the same time, Ephialtes pushes two fingers deep into the ass, which, wide open, sucks them in to the hilt. The buttocks swing and rub against the monoboles's belly. His spear is even stiffer between the young Roman's thighs. Otos pulls one last time on the breasts, then with his tongue he traces a path on the bust to the cock, depositing here and there small kisses on the skin velvety with very short little hairs. A deep gulp of air, and the monoboles begins to suck the rod. Then, another delicious moment, he licks the balls, covering them with as much saliva as possible. Then he grabs them, squeezes them, and directs them towards the entrance of the ass. Sextus spreads his legs wider. Otos lies down beneath him and with his tongue licks Ephialtes' fingers at the edge of the hole. The fingers eject from the entrails, immediately replaced by the swollen tip of a stiff rod. Despite the spear's enormous size, it is swallowed in one gulp down to the base, and the dilated ring even seems to want to close over the scrotum.
Otos is still kneeling, his head under the ass that licks greedily. After a few thrusts from Ephialtes into the gaping hole, Sextus feels another finger enter, beginning to energetically caress the German's club, rubbing it. Ever more greedy, the Roman wraps his left leg around Otos's shoulders to open his orifice as much as possible and encourage him to slide in another finger. Ephialtes drops to his knees, Otos's cock slaps the two pairs of balls pressed against each other. Ephialtes redoubles his energy, going back and forth in the hole. Then suddenly, after entering with as much force as ever, he pauses and withdraws very slowly. But barely has he left that Otos skewers Sextus in turn, and the different angle of penetration provides new sensations. A good beating and it's Ephialtes' turn again, and, a moment later, Otos again. One in front, the other in the back, take turns like this for a long time. Sextus can no longer distinguish one from the other.
Suddenly, all movement ceases, except for the beating and panting chests. Procullus opens his eyes and leans down. He sees three pairs of balls clumped together, but only one cock in the middle. The two brothers have managed to shove their two shafts together into his hole. And he finally feels fulfilled. The Aloades gently sit down on the ground, and he takes charge. He grips Otos's neck with both hands and presses down on his head to direct his mouth toward the breasts still wet with saliva. Folding his legs, he lifts himself a little and sinks back onto their poles. He can impale himself on both entire cocks without the slightest problem, but with much more than doubled pleasure. He then lets the ecstasy run wild, moving frantically back and forth on the double pole. The two monoboles are completely overwhelmed, melted into a double Geryon. They pour out their cum at the same time, filling Sextus's belly, without him stopping his ride.
Without giving the group time to separate, or to conclude whether the ecstasy had been shared or not, Marcus gestures to bring Gordius onto the scene. If Procullus has already reached the summit of Pelion, the Oeta can still be piled up there. Procullus sees the robust body of the Thracian approaching, brown skin, blond hair. As his barely sated hunger deepens again. Still impaled on the double Germanic club, he draws Gordius towards him with a wild frenzy. His first attack is for the protruding pectorals. He sucks the breasts, pumps the very large and round nipples. Their tips are hard and adore his licks or the softness of his lips. Then, bending, he descends along the hairy torso towards the gigantic cock, erect like a challenge. He first licks the heavy balls, while the shaft hits his cheeks and then rises again. His tongue encircles the head, rolling along the shaft. But the shaft is so thick that his lips can barely wrap around it. And so long that he can't swallow more than a third of it.
The Thracian's hands cling to the Cisalpine's hair. He files his mouth with his perfectly erect mast. His thrusts send his head deeper toward his throat. Sextus's hands wander over the muscular flesh, the firm, round buttocks, the soft yet hard thighs that respond to the slightest caress. Gordius has also taken over the young man's body. His hands have moved from his shoulders to his hips. The Aloades dodge, but it's only a very brief pause for the ring. The Thracian violently grabs the buttocks. Without even pushing, two fingers are swallowed into the hole dripping with cum. Enveloped by the mass of the monoboles' flesh, his smooth skin rubbing against the blond fleece, Procullus lets himself be carried once again by the waves of sensation and heat rising within him. His lips open wide to cover the ever-growing cock. A third finger disappears between the buttocks. The hand twists his asshole. And the more the hole opens, the deeper his mouth swallows the shaft. When Gordius works the ring with the flat of four fingers, the balls come up against his chin. Possessed to the back of his throat, Sextus almost suffocates. His saliva drips from the corners of his distended lips. But the intrusion is not enough, using the little space left to him by the Thracian's heavy body, he smashes his mouth onto the prodigious ram, the head of the ram scraping the back of his throat, as deep as the fingers search his entrails.
Inordinately aroused,, Gordius knocks Procullus onto all fours, his ass pointing in the air. For the young Roman, the desire to be possessed is still as compelling as ever. He wants to feel that solid plowshare plowing him, he wants that swollen, quivering cock, the imprint of which his dilated mouth still retains, entirely inside him again. With both hands, he spreads his buttocks, opening the entrance to the shaft wide. He even pushes in his middle and index fingers to spread the ring. Slipping between the four fingers, the club penetrates with three thrusts. Gordius doesn't move for a moment. Then the cock comes out and goes back in, partially or entirely. Each time, the four fingers sink a little deeper, to the hilt. The Thracian is as much masturbated as he is buggered. The Roman has reached Olympus.
Increasingly violent moans escape from the rutting bodies. The slave's legs are placed between those of the young ephebe. His hands firmly grip Procullus's sides. With the strength of his thighs, the powerful monoboles lifts the two bodies onto their knees, without breaking the union. Gordius arches his back on his two outstretched legs, his torso thrown back, lifting the cisalpine off the ground with each thrust. His entire body tenses, a moan rises more and more hoarse. Procullus, his buttocks crushed against the muscular belly, feels the throbbing cock, swollen with all its veins, still swell between his fingers. A flood of thick, hot cum penetrates everywhere. The cum-engorged ass can no longer swallow it all, the white jelly drips between the legs. Finally the intensity diminishes, Gordius gently emerges from Sextus's body, who collapses to the ground, filled and emptied at the same time.
– The cup overflows. Before the last course, I suggest we balance out the show of earlier. After civilization's harshness, the most refined art, dance, will serve as a framework for savagery. Satyros and Leagros, the step of Caligula.
Tradition has it that this parody of sacred dance was invented by Emperor Caligula. Like his thumb, the dancer's erect penis points to the sky, and his partner stands in the path of his dance, standing facing him. This dance step, already acrobatic in itself, is further spiced up by the extraordinary size of Satyros's phallus. Appreciating pain only when it quickly leads to increased pleasure, in which he opposes the inventor of ballet, the ferocious Caius, and even the Emperor Verus, Euphorion had prepared the ground; the young Greek's crotch was dripping with oil.
The melody of a double flute begins, Leagros places himself in the center, Satyros approaches, dancing. One leg outstretched and the other bent so that the knee touches the chest, without apparent effort, he extends the arm opposite the right leg, his hand open and his thumb raised towards the sky. Moving sideways, he bends his legs alternately to the rhythm of the melody, thumb and dick erect. When he is within reach, the Greek grasps the thumb with his mouth. Satyros envelops the head with the bent arm. His stomach naturally sticks to the back of the youth and, without a fault in trajectory, his dick penetrates in one stroke. Stoned, Leagros brutally clenches his teeth on Satyros's thumb, but remains standing. The dance resumes and Satyros tries it several times, each time more easily. Red hair mingling with blond hair, the two bodies remain riveted for a moment then separate, to the increasingly rapid rhythm of the music. In the last passage, a variation suggested to him by Loukianos, Leagros, instead of grabbing the thumb, turns Satyros over, balancing on one foot and, grasping the prodigious mast as a support, penetrates him in turn. Going beyond the rhythm of the melody, he quickly pounds the Syrian's ass, jerking his enormous cock. At the first spasms, he pulls out his cock and his cum spurts magnificently onto the browned back, while his clenched hand becomes covered in Satyros's juice. Loukianos applauds his pupil.
– There's something that has always surprised me about you, Loukianos, and that's the contrast between your pleasures and the rest of your behavior. Just as you seem to follow Epicurus's purest motto: "A little water, a little wine, and a few friends" in all your actions and prefer simplicity above all else, you are capable of the most incredible refinements in the baths.
– I think you're mistaken. It's not excessive refinement to seek to subject one's desires to the harness of the mind. I'm rather insensitive to the works of Nature. A walk in the forest quickly becomes tiresome for me. On the other hand, as soon as it has been reworked, corrected, dare I say, by the hand of man, I immediately feel different, in harmony with my surroundings. The most beautiful place I know is surely the villa of Hadrianus Augustus at Tiburtina. I apply the same principles to my pleasures.
– I don't agree with you, even if I recognize that for Procullus, your discipline has worked wonders, but you still only control his appearance. The unbridled savagery with which he submits to our game tonight is hardly controlled. The free rein given to the madness of passions allows us to unite for a fleeting moment the beast we once were and the god we want to be. The two are inseparable, and that's precisely what I criticized the three mystics you spoke of earlier. You can't enjoy just hovering with the gods..
– As for refinement, I may soon find my master.
And Loukianos points to Marcus Marcellus. The senator had been toying with the German's long foreskin for a while. He had taken one of the honey-based sweets from a dish, already softened by the heat. Between two fingers, he stretched the silky tube of skin and pushed the sweet stick inside. When the sweet touched the head, it continued to push, crushing it, swelling the skin like a ball. The Roman was now tasting this strange dessert, the dark head sliding through the melting honey, like the pit of a fruit.
Increasingly loud moans distract the guests. For some time, Verus had been dripping oil between his German's buttocks and working the ring with his fingers. The corolla had softened so much that four fingers entered and exited it effortlessly. The German, bent double, offered his widely spread buttocks, in the middle of which the dark well gaped. The emperor, his eyes sparkling, turned his wrist in all directions. The other banqueters followed with a little anxiety, suspecting how far the emperor wanted to push the exploration. It wouldn't be a first at the baths, but the german was still a virgin at the beginning of the evening. Even more oil, the thumb joined the four other fingers and spread the flesh, opening the ring ever wider. The German's moans were interspersed with cries of pain. Verus flooded his forearm with oil. His biceps are swollen enough to make the veins stand out. Slowly, the five fingers disappear. Verus twists his hand this way and that, the edge of the last phalanges rasping the corolla. A higher-pitched cry, the buttocks tighten further. The emperor withdraws his hand and then begins again. The fingers sink down to the palm. Verus doesn't seem to want to force the opening, but to soften it further so that penetration is effortless. Already, the German is no longer screaming, his deep grunts only mark intense pleasure. An unambiguous sign: the cock has stood stiffly erect. And more than the emperor's effort, it is ultimately the ass that swallows the hand whole.
Verus rotates his wrist in the enormously enlarged ring. His fingers search the hot entrails, drawing new cries from the slave. With the same slowness he used to enter, his fist comes out, turning in one direction then the other to round off the entrance. The German holds his breath to endure the ordeal. The fingers finally emerge, covered in a greasy brownish ointment. Between the spread buttocks, the corolla fails to close, opening onto a vast dark well. Verus makes his entire forearm oily. With a closed fist, he caresses the upturned ass. He points at the gaping hole, steps back a little, and with a vigorous movement of his shoulder, he pushes his fist all the way to the wrist in one go. The German screams. Ignoring the slave's cries, Verus immediately begins to ram his ass with his forearm. At first, with rapid movements, his wrist moves in and out of the ring. Then it gains momentum, the pace accelerates, the cries become deep grunts. The piston finally sinks almost to the elbow. Despite the torturous violence of the exercise, the excitement has spread to the other guests, and all follow the spectacle, fascinated, stroking their stiff dicks.
After an intense pounding, the emperor effortlessly removes his fist from the ass. With two fingers, he strokes the edge of the corolla, the softer flesh inside. A demonic glow glistens on the emperor's tense face, saliva drips between his parted lips onto his blond beard. He dips his other hand into the basin of oil and his ten fingers come to examine the well of flesh. The middle and index fingers of both hands disappear. Verus straightens up and kneels before the doubled-over body. Calvisius wants to stop this unbearable ordeal; he makes a gesture, but Caesar directs his delirious gaze towards him. Faced with this demented face, the Roman's lips freeze. Both hands have resumed their work. The slave, torn between ecstasy and pain, is almost unconscious, unable to escape the emperor's violence. Verus sees only a chasm of flesh that he wants to force open.
In the gaping ring, he pushes four fingers of each hand up to the base of the thumb, flat, which he slides against each other in the case of glowing flesh. When he withdraws one hand, he can now push his fist without any resistance all the way beyond the wrist. Then it is the turn of the other to sink. Like two pistons, the arms enter and then exit the human sheath. No more need for oil, the emperor's forearms and the German's ass are covered in brown grease. The two hands are joined again in the center of the relaxed corolla, this time thumbs inside. Weighing down with all his weight, Verus drives the prodigious battering ram. A ferocious howl interrupts the slave's torpor, who has regained consciousness, followed by very rapid gasps, which one does not know if it helps him bear the pain or not to sink into ecstasy. The emperor's tight wrists almost tear the ring. Sweat trickles down Verus's body. Completely unaware of his surroundings, the emperor continues to push. In his fury, he would have liked to sink his arms into the tender flesh up to his elbows, up to his shoulders.
Suddenly, a sort of spring kicks into motion in his body, his forward thrust stops. His two arms slowly begin to piston the flesh hole, no longer seeking to widen it. The German grunts more than he screams, as if, having overcome the pain, he is savoring this excessive wad. The emperor's face has regained his human contours. He turns his head behind him and discovers Philippos slowly licking his buttocks. Entirely fascinated by the wild ritual, none of the guests noticed the white silhouette of Euphorion attracted by the German's cries. With a gesture, he sent the scythe to divert Verus's hysteria and quickly withdrew.
Returning to the German in front of him, the emperor slowly withdraws both hands; the hole remains wide open, amidst buddings of bright red flesh. Spreading his thighs a little further to facilitate the scythian's oral caresses, Verus leans forward, and after rinsing it with water from a cup, he in turn licks the ass he has just tortured. At the touch of the warm, wet tongue, the grunts subside. The German now seems powerless; all his tense energy to resist has abruptly dissipated. For his part, Philippos has slipped his head between the emperor's thighs and is now licking the dangling dick. Overflowing with excitement, the cock immediately reacts with a powerful erection. Verus turns and gives free rein to the scythian, who mouths the stiff scepter. The rejected German falls inert at the foot of the bed. The emperor digs his toes between the buttocks and into the still wide open ass he pushes his foot up to the base of the heel.
