590 AD Package
The town of Bellinzona in the south of Switzerland, not far from the border to Italy, is best known for its three well-preserved medieval fortresses. Pay an entrance fee, walk some stairs, look out over the valley, walk some uphill paths, look out anew, and any man who has played with toy soldiers, on or off screen, can understand why the men with swords of the past would invest so much sweat and energy to erect walls and towers there.
The town is situated at the junction of several valleys, including the Leventina Valley, which leads north to the famous Gotthard Pass. That is one of the key points that joins Central Europe, with its butter, barley, and beer, and Southern Europe, with its olive oil, wheat, and wine. The network analysis of the time would scream high betweenness centrality for Bellinzona. Command a fairly small place, and enjoy the fruits, that is, both butter and olive oil.
“Betweenness centrality,” said Hugo with a contemptuous snort. “I have some betweenness centrality here that uncovers so much more, here in meatspace, not in some beyond-it drugged-up abstractions,” he said and grabbed his crotch and gave it a provocative shaking.
“Quiet,” whispered Karl. “The time and place for an extended rant on the profound limits of fragmented, mechanistic analysis is not when we’re about to sneak into a fortress. Restrain your Frenchness, or I will force you to eat English so-called chocolate for the rest of the mission.”
Hugo gasped and went silent. Karl had learnt during his time in France that threats of spanking never work on the French. Bring up the English instead.
It was the middle castle, Castello di Montebello, which the five men approached under the cover of darkness. The night air embraced them with its velvet touch, heavy with the essence of cypress groves and the earthy sweetness of wild mountain herbs that clung to ancient stone walls. The nocturnal rest of men and machines made the natural hum of the river and waterfalls audible to Karl, Hugo, Hermann, Martin, and Alejandro.
Add to this the intense awareness of being engaged in naughty and risky actions with your close male companions. That awareness is felt in the balls as a uniquely weird sensation, like the haunting song of freezing lakes, or the long microsecond before a nearby lightning strike. In short, a sensation that ordinary language and symbols have utterly failed to compactly denote since at least Gilgamesh and Enkidu dick-stroked their way all over Sumerian lands and parallel realms.
All that set the background and foreground for events to unfold.
Hermann, as the largest and the most muscular of the men, served as the human foundation as they scaled the wall. Broad shoulders and chest have many benefits for a man. From a slightly protruding stone about two metres above the ground, Karl jumped up to another protruding stone. Hours and hours of squats can pay off both in bed and during fortress assaults. Hoisted up next to Karl, Alejandro then wiggled himself around a corner and over the edge. Great bodily flexibility can generate varied joy and adoration. Martin threw a rope with a metal hook exactly into Alejandro’s hands without any sharp metal-on-stone sounds. A lean and athletic core grants a man excellent aim as he wields his limbs with weighty purpose. Finally, once Hugo had ascended the wall with the help of the rope, he used all the strength in his arms to pull up Hermann. Bulging biceps can help lift and direct fellow men in many arenas of a young man’s life.
And thus, five men had entered the fortress transgressing ordinary rules. Their mission left them no choice. Their balls vibrated happily.
Hermann was the first to undress fully. In the distant past, a man of his stature would no doubt be a chieftain. That fact animated his body, and he was fully erect as he looked out over the valley from within the castle. He turned his gaze onto his fellow researchers, who were mere moments away from a state of total nudity.
Nothing can be allowed to stand in the way of the liminal connection. It was time to understand mystically.
“Forget siege battle. That wasn’t how the fortress and attacker typically did it. It was a slow and deliberate battle of wits. Embodied mind games,” said Karl as he bent over and wiggled his muscular buttocks near Hermann’s rock hard penis.
“Infiltration of one or two men wouldn’t normally be an issue. It was large troop movements that these fortresses were made to deal with. A preaching monk, gossiping food deliverer, a quick assassin, a seductive boy would come and go rather easily,” noted Alejandro as he reached out to stroke the flawless pectoral muscles of Martin, down to veins that connected to the base of his hard dick.
“All true, but that game can be played by both attacker and defender,” said Hugo, as he grabbed hold of Karl’s torso, and wrestled him down on all fours, face down and ass up, serving up Karl’s delightful butt to Hermann, whose vision of past conquests grew clearer.
Hermann leaned down, placed his dick against Karl’s butt, grabbed Karl’s torso and sucked on Karl’s neck. Hugo was on his back, licking on Karl’s nipples and began toying with Karl’s penis. As visual stimulation, Martin and Alejandro stood in front of Karl as Martin started eating on the tender buttocks with the beastly slurping only a truly awesome ass can motivate a civilized man to create.
Karl felt how Hermann was poking the tip of his dick against the butt. Push in, he thought and flexed his buttocks just a bit extra and did a push back against the erect chieftain.
“Of course! Reverse honey trap. Superior dick command in Lombardian love-making,” groaned Hermann while Karl’s body gripped hard on Hermann’s full girth and took in all of it. He felt the tactical genius rise in his body, truthful inspiration growing through the close connection with man throughout time and space. The battle between the tight clutch of muscles and flesh and the pulsating hardness of dick was real, tough, challenging and therefore simply wonderful. Hermann groaned again.
In the year 590 AD, the Franks launched a major assault on Northern Italy. The Merovingian king Childebert the Second attempted one more time to claim control of Milan and its bountiful surroundings from the Longobards (later known as the Lombards), who had themselves, in the previous decades, moved south from Central Europe to battle in the lands which only a century prior were part of the Roman Empire.
One of the top military commanders of the Franks, Duke Olo, set his sights on Bellinzona for all the reasons already mentioned. But the summary historical records note how Duke Olo foolishly rode too close to a fortress from which a javelin was thrown and hit Duke Olo. His death became one of the more prominent ones near this central town among the nodes and edges of the Po Valley trade and cultural networks.
Hugo groaned and tugged a bit harder on Karl’s dick.
But text and data fragments from that time reveal very little to a modern reader. It is like the salacious reveal of a bare ankle, when we know the most exquisite goodies are still covered in layers upon layers of figurative clothing. A thorough stripping demanded so much more than endless comparative analysis of literature.
As the manly sensations in Bellinzona rose higher, a plan became clear. From his ranks of soldiers, grooms, blacksmiths, stable boys and cooks, Duke Olo selected his most agile and attractive young man. A Burgundian boy toy, no doubt, known among the knights as the warmest and fairest package of joy to spend a night with under the starry skies somewhere on the warpath.
The plan was to smuggle this young man inside the pesky fortress of the Longobards, and once there, he would bend over and butt-wiggle near senior command with tactical high precision. If confined and prevented to move, a man becomes horny and within him a great urge to move, grab and fuck boils up. For men of strength, that effect is even more pronounced. So Duke Olo was certain that the fortress commander would take out his hard dick at the sight of the sweet butt, then the Burgundian ass perfection would sexually exhaust the commander. The boy toy was well-trained. So after the sexual gymnastics, he would sneak up and kill the sleeping commander. In the subsequent confusion, the young man would open the gates.
It was an amazing plan. No need for a blockade, starvation and disease. It was as close to humane a murderous Medieval battle plan could get.
The five men shifted positions a bit. Hermann in Hugo in Karl got a steady rhythmic fuck train going, and Alejandro had begged for Martin’s dick to enter him after such lengthy and intense butt licking and kissing action. Each man looked at the other, connecting across time and space, events unfolding as they had to.
If all a man sees when he eyes the ass of a boy toy, Burgundian or otherwise, is a snug hole to penetrate and mechanically abuse for a few rough minutes, he is a lesser commander of manly powers. And lesser commanders are defeated, one way or the other. In 590, the Lombardian commanders detected the handsome young man within their walls, and as planned, they were attracted to the ass, lickable thighs, protruding nipples and that pretty face. But unlike lesser commanders, they took their sweet time, applied their dick powers with care and dignity. They delicately plowed the infiltrator with superior dick, explored his body and got to know him deeply. Soon, it was the young man from Burgundy who begged for more.
To ensure the boy had understood fully, they spent days with him, not just his body, but the full package of delicate boy powers. There were dungeon gangbangs, where Lombardian men shared in whole-body regiment fun, the infiltrator secured in the middle of it all. There was night-time, tender spooning on cozy animal hides in the command tower, where his smooth skin and pretty ears were tickled and toyed with. The Burgundian boy hadn’t worn clothes for days, and he purred with happiness and moaned with joyful surrender. He had come to see the good in the current command. True learning is, after all, a bodily act, the five senses a necessary launching point for transcendent sensory understanding.
And thus he confessed his original mission and offered his unconditional support for the men in the fortress against the army outside the walls. He was a brave man, the Lombardian commanders saw, a man who could navigate the perilous domains of men.
In the hour that followed, the boy came running nude into the tent of Duke Olo. He was panting, dripping with sweat and semi-erect. He reported that shortly after the infiltration, he had been captured, stripped and abused, and alas had been unsuccessful in the original mission. But thanks to his escape from the fortress dungeon, he had information on how to breach the walls.
A naked pretty boy with such seeming earnestness and commitment is a turn-on. So after Duke Olo and his commanders pumped the boy for information, as it were, they took turns mounting and plowing the sweet boy. Unbeknownst to them, it was the boy who pumped them empty of vigour and attacker aggression. Great ass can do that. So when Duke Olo fell asleep, three satisfying loads later, he met his doom: a dagger through the heart.
Historians of the word, chroniclers with their animal hides and carved letters, are constitutionally unable to capture complete events. Those are embedded in myths, space and bodies, all of which take careful and demanding effort to untangle. But in fairness to the chroniclers of the time, they could not imagine how the subtle and layered designs would be subject to such extreme abstractions and critique, such that the designs grew hollow of meaning. Killed by a man from within the fortress, throwing a javelin… read the subtext, people! It was the superior manhood within the fortress that launched a power package into Duke Olo’s camp, which then savaged his heart.
Under the combined force of Hugo and Hermann, Karl’s butt was wonderfully tender. But he held on, did his utmost not to squirt his seed yet from the intense stimulation. He needed one more answer.
“The boy. The hero. What happened to him?” grunted Karl.
Alejandro took a deep breath, titled his butt a bit to feel Martin’s hardness push and stroke a bit differently, and thus, behind closed eyes, between the sparkles playing on his retina, Alejandro sensed it.
“Supreme lover of the commander for five years. Deep love with several animal hides worn down from all the throbbing rhythms. Then, as a diligent scout, he tracked and mapped hidden paths in the nearby mountains to facilitate defence, trade and private love gatherings among majestic trees and sparkling brooks. At old age, he jerked off military recruits with expert aim and touch. A whole life, in other words.”
The five men felt happiness in all the best ways.
After the successful mission, the men climbed down and returned to their hotel room in the town. This had been a night of pleasure and learning. They would reenergize with some light food and proper French and Swiss chocolate. Tomorrow, they would be ready to push further and deeper on their mission.
