The hallway snaked through the fortress’s heart, stone walls cool and damp. Siesta hour blanketed the place in heavy silence. Everyone dozed—prince, princess, trainers, even the insatiable ephebes in the harem. Light slivered under doors, golden whispers from sunlit rooms. My sandals slapped softly on the polished marble, heart already thumping. I’d just left the princess’s chambers, delivering Fornicator’s sneaky message. Gomorrha’s moans still echoed in my ears—Branletta’s tongue buried in her slick cunt, cyprine dripping like honey.
Footsteps. Heavy, bare. Around the corner, Mandrinax emerged from the harem shadows. Towering, muscles oiled and gleaming, his short tunic tented by that legendary cock. Thick as my wrist, they said. His eyes locked mine—hungry, forbidden. No words. He grabbed my arm, yanked me into a dim alcove. The air stank of sweat and cum from morning worship to Homosexualis. Spermophile had milked us dry earlier, jars brimming for the god. But Mandrinax was insatiable, always hard.
The Forbidden Contact
His breath hot on my neck. ‘Amphoros, you little slut. Saw you eyeing me in the gym.’ Rough hands hiked my tunic. My cock sprang free, already leaking. He dropped to knees, stone scraping. Mouth engulfed me—wet, slurping. Gagging quietly. I bit my lip, stifling a groan. Walls thin here. Princess’s door just feet away. What if Branletta peeked? Or worse, Fornicator, plotting with Gomorrha to topple the prince?
He stood, spun me. Face to cold stone. Tunics shoved aside. Spit-slick fingers probed my hole. ‘Ready for my battering ram?’ he whispered. I nodded, ass clenching. His fat head nudged. Push. Burn. Inch by inch, splitting me. Full. So fucking full. He thrust—short, brutal pumps. Flesh slapped flesh, muffled thwacks. My moans choked into fist. Parquet—no, marble creaked under us. Light flickered under the alcove curtain. Someone passing?
The Risky Indiscretion
Sweat poured. His balls smacked my taint. ‘Tight as Gynéphore’s virgin ass,’ he grunted low. I pictured the gym later—prince assigning roles, me maybe servicing Testiculos with Viarectal. But now, this risk. Siesta ending soon. Sodomius inspecting. If caught… disgrace. Or worse, Spermophile claiming our load as offering. Mandrinax hammered faster. Prostate lit up. Precum drooled down my thighs. ‘Gonna flood you,’ he hissed. I pushed back, greedy. Hole gripping his shaft like a vice.
Orgasm hit. Mine first—ropes splattering stone, silent scream. He buried deep, pulsing hot jets inside. Cum leaked out, warm trickle. We froze. Breaths ragged. Pulled out with a wet pop. Tunics down. He smirked, vanished into shadows toward gymnasium.
I slipped out, legs shaky. Heart pounding like war drums. Hallway empty, but footsteps echoed—servitor with phrygian cap, blonde locks, shaved legs. He nodded, oblivious. Did he smell it? The sex musk clinging? I nodded back, casual. Door to my quarters creaked open. Inside, collapsed on pallet. Secret safe. For now. But the thrill… that whisper of exposure. Whole fortress asleep, while I broke every rule. Cock twitched again, remembering.