Glory of Rome

The Triumph

General Dictus Rectus Buttsexus triumphantly fucks his loyal Lieutenant on the gleaming marble floor of the Senate. He sports his finest military regalia as he brazenly anally violates his subordinate – along with all societal norms of morality and masculinity by penetrating a fellow Roman soldier. Regardless, the Pretorian remains indifferent to the assembly of stunned onlookers. Or purposely oblivious, perhaps. All that matters presently to the General is sex with young Quintus Cumdumpus.  

With success on all fronts secured, the General knows he need not fear harsh repercussions. No consequences, no demotions. For Dictus has returned with his entourage victorious from war to a wildly jubilant capitol. Here – having reaffirmed the supremacy of Rome on this official and auspicious occasion – he now claims the handsome slave boy. The prize duly promised to him by the emperor.

Handsome Quintus had been enlisted to serve Rome at the tender age of seventeen. He rose through the ranks within a year to become the General’s most trusted advisor, able officer, and longstanding battle companion. The Commander’s privileged apprentice, personal Concubinus, and leading Tribune. A stunningly adept, adolescent athlete and gifted fighter. A fair-haired Britannian youth whose virility and statuesque beauty surpass even those of the most illustrious heroes and superb stone sculptures of Greek Antiquity.

These two strapping Legionaries make a breathtaking pair: Seasoned veteran joined with fledgling cadet. Man and boy. Boy and man, mating. Intensely locked as lovers in the carnal throes of bestial copulation; ever an exultation of their many conquests together, both in bed and abroad. Gripping leathery strips of the youth’s sex-strewn Tunica as reins, a determined Dictus mounts his muscular Tribunus like a trusty steed, and publicly breeds him. The undefeated hero of countless foreign campaigns takes his favored Auxiliary from behind the way a stallion dominates an untamed broodmare.

Quintus willingly submits. The uniformed boy is bent forward with outstretched arms, clutching his own regimental shield by its sides. The upright armor helps him brace against the General’s unrelenting thrusts. Those powerful, primitive, rhythmic strokes the herculean Preator makes as he drives his massive shaft into the familiar warmth of his adjutant’s hindquarters.  

Euphoric and moaning, Quintus dutifully surrenders his hole to his master and commander. He fulfills his role as the General’s vassal, loving it like a Pathicus should. The obedient Optio craves his Commander’s exceptional seed. Incessantly. Insatiably. He longs to be made a receptacle for sex; the sole vessel the Preator uses to repeatedly spawn, store, and safeguard his champion offspring. Over and over, Quintus groans in ecstatic satisfaction. The brutish General taking pleasure in Quintus’ rectum equally pleases the servile boy.

Following multiple seasons spent marching and fighting side by side on foreign soil, these two soldiers now share an unbreakable bond. Far beyond the connections shared by mere brothers-in-arms. Evidently, the boy’s talents both on and off the field have steeled these men in ways no longer limited to warfare. Nor moderated by modesty. 

And today, they display their rock-hard resolve, and their erections. They celebrate the unconstrained passion of their mutual affection by openly fornicating. Two battle-hardened troops who bask in the immoral glory of their bastard intercourse; groping each other’s glistening, sweat-drenched bodies and pawing at each other savagely like lions in heat.  

Much to the apparent dismay of all senators present.

An astonished audience stares in shock and disbelief at the immodesty of their Grand Army’s finest. Men of high office shake quarrelsome fists and roar, outraged at the soldiers’ vile impropriety. “Pure evil!”, they shout, aghast. The unspeakable sin these two elite warriors commit within hallowed halls is an abomination. An affront to the Gods; a monstrous atrocity. In the very heart of the Empire, no less!

And yet… the statesmen’s gratuitous gaze betrays their voyeuristic enjoyment. Their lustful intent. Soon, those envious spectators salivate at the sexual spectacle and lurid practices of these sinewy, sylvan men. Watching two splendid specimens of manliness engage in male procreation, their own weapons quickly swell beneath elegant togas and tunics of exquisite linens and finest silk.

On this historic day of days, they abandon all virtue. They disrobe; stripping themselves down, hurriedly undressing one another. Rome’s elite dispense with decorum to fondle and sodomize each other. In places and ways unbefitting men of such ostensibly noble standing.  

Civilization collapses. It dissolves in an instant around the coupling comrades into absolute depravity. Into an orgy of indulgent, degenerate obscenity made up entirely of libidinous men. Their lewd chorus of sucking and moaning and licking and kissing and fucking and groaning soon resonates through the stone halls and echoes like a symphony throughout the venerable, vaulted chamber.

Amid the excess, General Buttsexus and his Adjutant Quintus Cumdumpus continue, undeterred. They shamelessly revel in their own sordid pleasures of the flesh.  

Dictus deepens his steady thrusting into his youngster. His mission: to garrison legions of semen in the nubile juvenile’s core. He pumps the bucking boy’s bowels. Hard. Quintus groans; wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Panting and ecstatic, the teenager freely offers up his orifice for further conquest to his surrogate father. He enjoys every moment and lets the General know it by grinding his cherubic ass against Dictus’ groin. Impaling himself on his Army Commander and plunging the seasoned officer’s rock-hard cock deeper into his entrails.  

It’s Dictus who moans now – long and desirous – as he sinks into Quintus, and stays there. The youth’s narrow tunnel is tight. So tight and inviting. Buttsexus adores the voluptuous comfort of its steamy hot confines. He throws back his head, bellowing a primal roar that drowns out the senatorial orgy around them. 

He’s buried to the hilt in Quintus’ butt, relishing how the boy’s inner workings envelop his swollen rod. How they bloat around his unsheathed weapon. His erection throbs in the hot, hollow confines of the teen’s warm intestines. In the welcoming abyss where muscles unseen expertly clench his pulsing member, sensually contracting. Urging him towards orgasm.    

The Preator grunts in satisfaction. “Pullipremo ita vero,” he growls, praising the teen’s inner virtues. Quintus flashes the General a sly smile over his shoulder – he knows that despite being a slave and a soldier, he possesses a certain power over his Master as well.

An emboldened Dictus reminds Quintus of the hierarchy, however. He digs his fingers into Quintus’ flanks, backing the boy up onto his massive battle standard. He plunges it into the Tribune, rocking the youth by the hips along the entire length of his impressive shaft. Back and forth. In and out. Spearheading an assault to assert his absolute dominance over the adjutant as Praetor, and Primus Progenitor.

“Gods!” Quintus gasps. He calls out the general’s name and stammers, “Dictus… Oh Dominus…! Oh Dictus – YES!” The huge man’s mighty thighs and pelvis wetly smack-smack-smack against the boy’s backside. Their steady cadence drowns the youth’s fervent moans and reduces them to a breathless, broken hum. Every time Dictus rams his colossal slab of glorious man-meat into his teen, Quintus begs the Cohort Commander to be bred. Bred harder. Faster. Deeper. “Dictus... Oh Preator, pleeeease!”

Finally, the boy drops a hand to his crotch. Quintus recognizes the signs of impending crescendo and knows that if Dictus weren’t close, he wouldn’t permit his slave to masturbate at all. His battle-hardened lover’s loins are ready to burst, Quintus realizes.

The youth eagerly fondles himself while Dictus mounts and takes him with renewed vigor. Their choreography of feral fucking nears its monumental peak. Dictus’ solid dick in Quintus’ asshole makes the beautiful youth’s adamantine erection leak precum in a steady stream. Reflecting the sunbeams that pour through the Senate rotunda, it glistens; dripping like a crystal cascade that pools at the boy’s feet and spreads across the plenum’s polished alabaster.  

“Master… make me yours again,” Quintus implores. He can hardly wait. Any second now… Any second, and the General will inseminate his rectum and fill young Quintus Cumdumpus to the brim with liquid progeny. The elite elixir of this Imperial Guard. Every orgasm this magnificent man has in his ass elevates Quintus above his life’s assigned station. He wants this. He needs this, more than anything. They both do.

Both men groan in unison; guttural and deep. While Quintus furiously strokes his own pole, Dictus digs his fingers into the teen’s gluteal flesh. He roars like a boar before culminating his epic fuck in a trifecta of final thrusts – punctuating them all with the thunderous call of “Vidi... Vici… VENI!” Together they release their potent seed and surrender to a wave of orgasmic pleasure.

Quintus shakes uncontrollably. Just as General Buttsexus ejaculates in the boy’s anus, the youth’s body violently convulses. Sensing his senior officer starting to unload in his hindgut sends the sex-crazed adolescent over the edge. 

“Yes! OH GODS, YES,” Quintus shouts, launching teenage cream like a catapult as his knees begin to buckle. Thick cum-ropes spew forth, only to spatter against the back of his shield – their trajectory deflected as Quintus desperately clings to the defensive armor in an effort to remain standing.

Dictus growls and floods Quintus’ asshole like an aqueduct. It’s a gratifying release: Long after the youth has stopped cumming, the General is still pumping testicular man-milk into his adjutant's backside. Dictus opts not to withdraw and instead fucks his sperm even deeper into the boy’s bowels. Reveling in the depravity of their union. Celebrating it – again. Emptying himself inside Quintus a second time as a token of genuine affection. The boy beams with pride at courtesies such as these.

In fact, Quintus marvels at his Master’s prowess. And at his bravery most of all: Before seeding him, the General’s call had been directed towards the heavens. Towards the Gods. At the Senate and the people of Rome – indeed, the entire Empire. Dictus wanted all to know of this singular victory. This daring act of intimate indecency and indecent intimacy which embodied both his fondness for the boy as well his supreme authority over the youth's body. Through Dictus, Quintus transitioned from adolescent to man.  

No one would ever dare touch the General’s coveted Cumdumpus again. Not without fear of reprisal, at least. The youth belonged exclusively to Dictus now. With regard to strapping young Quintus, the Preator had told the known world in no uncertain terms:

I saw, I conquered, and I came… 

This is a work of fiction. It serves as an hommage to, and parody of, the corny historical gay porn flicks of the mid-to-late 1990's and early 2000's. As such, it contains tons of historical inaccuracies and assinine names, all of which are wholly intentional.

Reader feedback is is always welcome and greatly appreciated. If you're interested in learning more about Dictus Rectus and Quintus Cumdumpus, please leave me some love in the comments below. Either way: Stay healthy, stay safe, and happy reading! :)