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Description

The Roman crowd, ever avid for spectacle, roars its approval as the Gaul goes flying, pitching onto his back and landing hard in a shower of sand. And there he lies, flat-out and winded, for the present paying no heed to his surroundings. But the Teuton is also in need of some recovery after taking the charge and the exertion of turning it into an overhead throw. Thus the crowd are treated to the spectacle of both these muscular young men lying splayed out and panting on the ground while the sun sheens the oil and sweat which soak their bodies.
As the presiding Consul jibes that her wager is in jeopardy, his young mistress makes no answer, for her eyes are riveted on the sight before her, on the near-naked bodies laid glistening on the sand of the arena. She stares, aware that her heart is racing, and that her throat is suddenly dry. There is something – suggestive – about those close-fitting linen slips about the loins of the two gladiators, about the prominence they accord to their contents, standing proud in profile above the splayed thighs and heaving abdominal muscles. She swallows, and tries to find an answer for the balding, much less physically impressive, but very powerful and wealthy man at her side. Patron and protector was he – and she would do ill to forget it. All the same, staring at those two well-muscled frames lying below in all their masculine glory, she cannot help but wonder what it would be like to bed so fine a specimen of young and virile manhood.
“See!” ejaculates the Consul, “the Teuton is the first to stir! Mark me, my dear – his strength will see out his opponent, for all his skill and artifice. Look – he rises, ready. Now we shall see what stuff the Gaul is made of!”
I wonder, thinks the girl. I truly wonder…..

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Description

The Roman crowd, ever avid for spectacle, roars its approval as the Gaul goes flying, pitching onto his back and landing hard in a shower of sand. And there he lies, flat-out and winded, for the present paying no heed to his surroundings. But the Teuton is also in need of some recovery after taking the charge and the exertion of turning it into an overhead throw. Thus the crowd are treated to the spectacle of both these muscular young men lying splayed out and panting on the ground while the sun sheens the oil and sweat which soak their bodies.
As the presiding Consul jibes that her wager is in jeopardy, his young mistress makes no answer, for her eyes are riveted on the sight before her, on the near-naked bodies laid glistening on the sand of the arena. She stares, aware that her heart is racing, and that her throat is suddenly dry. There is something – suggestive – about those close-fitting linen slips about the loins of the two gladiators, about the prominence they accord to their contents, standing proud in profile above the splayed thighs and heaving abdominal muscles. She swallows, and tries to find an answer for the balding, much less physically impressive, but very powerful and wealthy man at her side. Patron and protector was he – and she would do ill to forget it. All the same, staring at those two well-muscled frames lying below in all their masculine glory, she cannot help but wonder what it would be like to bed so fine a specimen of young and virile manhood.
“See!” ejaculates the Consul, “the Teuton is the first to stir! Mark me, my dear – his strength will see out his opponent, for all his skill and artifice. Look – he rises, ready. Now we shall see what stuff the Gaul is made of!”
I wonder, thinks the girl. I truly wonder…..

See more of this story at: subscribestar.adult/sparkiesho…