Stallions Onward
“We need to bring some clarity on the topic of modes of transportation,” said Martin. “On this creative Central European route, we must. Don’t leave them hanging, men. How people move in the world is key to how our existence reveals itself. We have all heard that pat phrase about the journey being the goal. In that throw-away tagline lies dormant something profound.”
“Modes of transportation are so hot right now,” added Karl.
“Exactly. How we move changes what we are, and it changes us above all through the erotic vector,” said Martin.
“I have an erotic vector right here. Pull over, Alejandro, and we can all vectorize a bit together,” said Hugo, performing a tugging motion in the air of unambiguous direction and magnitude.
The five men were back on Italian roads in the Volvo they had been gifted. On a southwesterly route from Milan, they had set their aim at the French Riviera. Alejandro drove with Hugo for navigation support in the passenger seat. In the backseat, Hermann, Karl and Martin were crammed together.
Thanks to their friendly Italian hosts, they had showered and dressed well earlier in the day. By way of goodbye, the twelve men had been engaged in half an hour of Mediterranean kisses and hugs along with many spoken promises of seeing each other soon again. Then followed another twenty minutes of French kissing, and after a smattering of encouraging butt slaps and a handful of confident crotch grabs, the men took off.
“Let us stay on topic,” said Martin, who had been mostly quiet since leaving Milan. “Ruggero told me some interesting facts about the Vespa. I want to clarify them further.”
“You two certainly spent some quality time together; your chest has not felt massage like that ever before,” said Hermann. Karl did the full two-handed pectoral grab-and-grope in the air to illustrate.
“In a nutshell, this is what Ruggero said about the Vespa,” continued Martin. “That rapid and flexible package of power was launched in 1946. The first model had a ninety-eight cubic centimetres engine, so small but solid. The ability to navigate at speed the narrow city streets increased, including for young men with little cash on hand.”
“First, a quiz for my friends. What would Freud say? Hermann, why don’t you channel that Viennese chap and first-rate beard model?” said Martin.
Hermann cleared his throat and spoke with deadpan Germanic seriousness:
“Like his ancient ancestors, the midcentury Italian man needed to vent his libido through sublimation of the phallic energy in structures of his community. Unlike his ancient ancestors, changes to style and craft in the intervening centuries meant he could not erect pillars, whether Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, or Tuscan. Rather, the libido found creative release in the Vespa. Operated at high speeds, the straddled heavy package of well-engineered metal became to the midcentury man the tangible structure of his phallic energy. Transport is onanism and navigation through narrow Italian streets a desirable penetrative act, where both sex drive and death drive (Eros and Thanatos) find their displacements in space and time. The man exploring his psychosexual hermaphroditism or a devotee of Uranian love, further admired his fellow men’s machinery and his cathexis of the Vespa expanded to include colour, shine, even the form and wrapping of the bench seat.”
“Have you truly lived unless you’ve mounted and been mounted on a scooter bench seat,” interjected Alejandro with a deep sigh, bordering on a moan, which revealed much about his youthful adventures, a short and rhythmic drive through the Iberian wilderness.
“But Ruggero’s insight makes the Vespa reach beyond the psychological. He claims convincingly that the Vespa made the Italian dick grow better by another two or three centimetres. The mode of transportation was not an inanimate thing that men only projected their frustrated minds onto. The Vespa itself made the man's total existence different, through a two-way synthesis,” said Martin.
“I hate to be that guy, but people will ask for supporting data,” said Karl. “Have some diligent and/or dirty scientists applied rulers and measuring tapes to the dicks of the Italian peninsula?”
“A dick that grows better is not simply a statement of length,” interjected Hugo from the passenger seat. “It is, above all else, a statement about depth and reach. On time, we make such distinctions. Time and duration are not the same. So we should do the same for bodies and the tangible domain of heft, girth and momentum. No measure comes before truth. Why not instead look at entries in diaries of the time? Were the squeals of joy louder, the romantic swooning on the page steamier, and did people report how men’s gait changed to accommodate the better grown dick that swings heavy between his legs.”
“So, given Ruggero’s brilliance, I thought of two other cases,” continued Martin, with rising passion. “First, the contemporary. The thesis is: recent increase in erectile dysfunction is in large part a fact of too large cars and too much air conditioning.”
“How could it not?” noted Karl and placed his hands right on the crotches of Martin and Hermann, who sat to his right and left, respectively, and began a light up and down, squeeze and release motion.
“Yes. Cars as a mode of transportation was at first a boon to the penis,” said Martin while his passion kept growing, in Karl’s hand and throughout. “The boomer generation, for example, was as numerous as it was because of it. But alas, playfulness and mythological power were pushed aside for comfort and status signalling. So in one era, the car was crowded, shaking and shivering, bodies pushed and ground against each other, so that a hand on a crotch could just happen, and they became hot under the sun. And what about the colours and designs… I mean, I look at a bright red Fiat 500 and instantly I want to grab hold of a short, flirty, pretty guy, ruffle his hair, bend him over, and just plow, plow, plow.”
“Same,” said Hugo.
“Nowadays, cars are mostly for one person at a time. If there are more people in them, they can sit far apart. Air conditioning keeps it cool, so no sweat or hormones in the air. So it is full clothing on. And just please,” shouted Martin at an unusual level of excitement, “did we collectively become colour blind? Will future historians look back at the dull colours of our designs in this era with the same confusion we look back at Homer’s descriptions of hues and ask why all the cars are in some shade of grey? No wonder it is all more flaccid out there.”
“I, naturally, let the outside heat in,” said Alejandro from the driver’s seat. “No adulterated atmosphere in here. Besides, I might have to shout at some driver, so windows open, AC off, passions out, dick up.”
“Thank you,” said Hermann, with a groan as he had grown excited within his shorts and body when subjected to Karl’s expert massage. He and Martin exchanged a glance and unbuttoned their shorts, pulling them down to their knees.
Hugo turned around and looked at Karl’s expert massage of penises, one pulsating chunk of precious meat in each hand. A backseat handjob can be a sordid affair. However, love and skill wrapped in a warm breeze can make wonders out of it, and in turn, transform the most monotonous and never-ending drive into a sparkling, joyful event that doesn't last long enough.
“Martin, you must tell us of the second case; this is the moment of clarity,” said Hugo.
Regarding modes of transportation and their profound impact, beyond the purely functional, nothing compares to the horse when it became part of life in present-day Europe during the Bronze Age. The power of the stallion in the collective imagination is not simply interspecies penis envy. Rather, that power draws on the soulful echoes of myth, born from how profoundly the dick-swinging stallion changed how men moved through space.
Exact dates are unclear and vary by location, but in the hills and forests near the Elbe River valley, where the Únětice culture thrived during the centuries of the Early Bronze Age, the domesticated horse appeared a bit over 2,000 years before the current era. Since no written record has been discovered, that time and place are relegated to the prehistory sections of textbooks. The buried metal, amber and bones leave a large void in what village life and beyond were like four millennia ago.
It was to one of those villages, buried in time and silt, that Heroman and Tyrtin arrived. Their request to Grim, the apex village elder and ruler, was both simple and strange. Grow our mission aimed north, they said, with a young man of this village.
There had been no reason given. Neither of the two men had been forced to seek lands or a village in the north by beasts or bad weather; stampeding boars and floods were otherwise known to force such migrations without mercy. Grim even offered the men a place in the village, after all, they were big and muscular, and could no doubt haul a great deal of dirt, lumber and water. However, to the pair of men, the movement north was its own strange reason.
As void of sense as the words of the two men were, Kariman found the strangest of all to be that they moved while seated on the horses’ backs. Kariman was a young man of the village, a fast runner, who spent his time hunting pheasants, collecting dry twigs and carrying water from the tarn. He was no dummy, though. He had looked beyond the river bend to the south. Twice even. He had seen horses, but only as supporters for village work, like hauling stuff. Hauling dirt and timber would be more difficult if one sat on the horse, so why do it that way, he wondered?
Three days had passed since the strange men on horses had arrived. They waited for Grim’s ruling. Life’s ordinary duties had to be dealt with; the strange muscular men could not be gawked at all day. So Kariman went to the tarn for the afternoon water collection. However, unlike all the other days before, this afternoon, he was greeted by Grim and a few men of the village. Grim commanded that Kariman was to be stripped and given the most thorough scrubbing and cleaning. As Grim was ruler, his word was law. The tarn had not warmed up yet, so Kariman felt the cold take a hold of him as his face, chest, legs, hair, dick and ass were meticulously cleaned in the familiar pool of water.
“They say they can make you understand,” said Grim to the cold and naked Kariman on their return to the village. “This is not an abduction. And we will be there to see that they are honourable and cast no spell nor place a binding on you. They promised that only if the flames within you burn tall and happy will you go with them.”
Shaking from the cold, whole-body scrubbing, Kariman expected a bonfire to heat himself by. Instead, he was brought to the village elder’s platform in the village, where Heroman and Tyrtin waited. With a firm push, Grim handed over the naked and frozen Kariman to the two men on the platform.
The strangest sensation shot through Kariman’s body like a warm gust of summer wind when the two men immediately began stroking, groping and licking him. It was not long before the two strong men had removed their clothing, and Kariman found himself squeezed between the two warm and naked men.
Kariman was no dummy. He understood the way of the dick, he had seen the ram in rut. Or so he thought. The two men had hard and big dicks poking at him. And while they had groped and grabbed at him, including a few firm and well-aimed jerks at Kariman’s manhood, he, too, became hard and all tingly within himself. Some animal spirit moved inside him and created a moaning sound from his mouth.
Tyrtin then grabbed Kariman’s torso, and as Tyrtin lay down on his back on the platform, Kariman was in turn naked on his back but fixed on top of Tyrtin. Kariman was not a weak young man; he was the best runner in the village, after all. So he pulled and pushed a bit against Tyrtin, who responded in kind. In an apparent contradiction, Kariman wanted to both resist the man’s power while also being overpowered by him. As he and Tyrtin wrestled, Kariman met Heroman’s gaze. He smiled as he looked down on Kariman. He saw right through Kariman’s little game. That made Kariman’s body warm up even more.
Heroman dropped to his knees on the platform and, with his hands, held Kariman even more locked in place. With his mouth, Heroman began to slobber and suck on Kariman, from his face, to his neck, chest, belly button, and soon enough, the full length of Kariman’s penis was enveloped by Heroman’s warm, wet and sucking mouth. Again, an animal spirit made him moan loudly, this time a bit more wolf-like.
Kariman burst out in a full bear growl when Heroman aimed his hard penis at Kariman’s butt and carefully entered him. He had folded up Kariman’s legs and pressed down on him, and in turn, Tyrtin’s strong chest and belly pressed up at Kariman.
He was getting squeezed between the two men, as if falling lumber was crushing him to the ground. Kariman wrestled against their considerable power. He both loved that nothing he did changed what was happening to him, and also, that, unlike the brute force of falling lumber smashing people to bits against the ground, the manly force pushing and pressing against him was warm and invigorating, rather than a blunt, indifferent force of accidental death.
At one of these wrestle moves Kariman’s hand came up against Tyrtin’s rock hard dick that was pressing up from below. If it was reflex, desire for manly comfort, manly desire to give comfort, or all of it at the same time, who knew, but Kariman secured a firm grasp around the throbbing penis and began working it. He could feel both Heroman and Tyrtin grow excited and ever closer to full animal release.
With his runner’s butt and hauler’s hands, Kariman committed to the challenge of making the two men reach their maximum joy at the same time. That took intuition. How hard to squeeze, how much to resist, when and where to launch forward for a small bite on the man on top, were well beyond what the crude science of the Elbe river valley. Kariman just had to know. Can you claim to master manhood unless you command your body and theirs well enough that you can make two men reach sexual climax at the exact time?
Hermann and Martin began to gasp, press their hips forward and flex their legs. At practically the same moment, they began to shoot their load up and back onto themselves and Karl’s hands, maybe also a drip onto the Volvo seats. Hugo nodded with an impressed look on his face, and Alejandro swerved dangerously on the road as he tried to catch a glimpse of the happy manly moment in the rearview mirror.
Kariman had never felt such warmth in his body. So men could be like a soaring and bright fire that travels with the wind, he understood. It was like a roaring fire in the forest. A bit scary, but also very commanding.
Grim and the village elders had slack jaws afterward and would not meet Kariman’s gaze. But they had looked on and no sorcery had been detected, so when Kariman declared he understood the mission, felt the fire, and wanted to grow it, the villagers quickly accepted a piece of copper from the two men on stallions.
Kariman, too, received gifts: a bronze dagger and a wolf pelt to keep his shoulders warm. No other clothing would be needed as he rode a horse out into the vast forest, north away from the village. If you embody command, show it.
As a final token of the joyous events, Heroman and Tyrtin dug up and erected a large boulder in a nearby clearing in the forest. It was hard work, but worthwhile. The boulder stands there still, as erect as ever, its cold hardness entering the minds of men walking nearby.
Karl sighed. It was sweaty in the backseat. Hands and limbs could not help but touch the tender and erogenous parts of the male bodies.
“What this world needs is heavy and manly movement through space and time,” he said.
“Alejandro, pull over,” said Hugo. “I think we have to erect a boulder before we leave these lands.”
So if you come across an erect boulder, somewhere in the Elbe River valley or the lush hills some kilometres north of Genoa, or pretty much any other place where men in command of potent modes of transportation have been in the last four thousand years, you have an excuse if you feel the urge to strip down to a wolf pelt and fuck. No need to wait for two primordial men on stallions to show up, because some spirits travel a great distance by other means to mysteriously invade the minds and bodies of strong men to be.
