An erotic story inspired by nude bodybuilder Brutus di Fino, courtesy of Muscle Hunks.

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Last summer I was traveling in England and spent about a week with a good buddy in London. Both of us enjoy military fantasies of all kinds and I was quite excited when Dave told me about this annual re-creation of the Roman invasion of the Brits, held outside London. It was a bright sunny Sunday when we drove out to the site, a large, cleared field amid a circle of trees and a forested area. There was an air of holiday that pervaded the crowd assembled, large but not unruly, and not a lot of whining children. But believe me I was paying only the slightest attention to the crowd. I was far more interested in the men who were attired in ancient Roman war garb, with their short togas and pouch-like crotch-coverings. The gear was realistic, down to their fringed helmets, spears, and painted hand-shields. My crotch swelled as I tried to take it all in. Some of the jock-like pouches were so skimpy, pube hairs were actually peeking out from the sides of the straps, turning me on even more. I had to rearrange my hefty cock in my jeans, hoping no one was noticing my throbbing boner. Though all of them were good-looking, and their dress was turning all of them into fantasy images, there was one soldier in particular who really caught my eye and got my basket so full and swollen. He was dark and swarthy and had more of an Irish look than an English look. His dark brown eyes seemed to sparkle, and I developed an almost adolescent crush on the handsome fellow. He must have noticed my gawking because I was sure it wasn't my imagination when at one point, he seemed to give me the slightest glimmer of a smile as his eyes then moved downwards towards my swollen bulge. As he prepared for the maneuver demos, chatting with friends, practicing their drills, I more or less followed him wherever he went. Dave warned me not to be so obvious, but my cock was speaking louder than my conscience.

At one point I needed to relieve myself (although I sure could have used a more orgasmic kind of release), and went off in search of a loo, as everyone in London calls them. The building that housed the rest stations was somewhat separated from the main area, and by the time I finally located it I had to piss like the proverbial race horse. I could hardly yank my thick, erect dick from out of my tight jeans and just managed to as the stream of piss started spitting from my cock. It was a river and I let go, almost closing my eyes with a sigh of relief. My piss flood had slowed to a few drops just as heard the door bang open. I was in shock when I saw my Roman gladiator come in. A feather could have knocked me over when he approached the urinal immediately next to mine. I pretended to be shaking the nonexistent final drops of piss as I watched the Roman soldier extract his own pissrod from inside the swaddled crotch. .I sneaked a glimpse as discreetly as could. I couldn't believe the beautiful sight; his tool was a good eight or so inches, and it was steel-hard. He gave me a wink just as I realized suddenly that I was blatantly staring at the monster dickmeat. "Ya like it, ay, mate?" he asked lewdly, as he slapped it against the porcelain basin. I was too stunned to say anything, and I only managed to shake my head in the affirmative at his question. I couldn't take my eyes off that magnificent specimen of pure manmeat, and realized my own erection had grown to its full length again extending outwards like a horny snake, aching to be tongued. He glanced down appreciatively and gave me another wink as he managed to somehow re-tuck his own swollen organ into the jock-like covering. "I only have a bit part in this whole thing, mate, so what say, you meet me over in the woods in about half an hour. Follow me out and I'll nod over in the direction of which path to take" I felt like a blind man must feel when he's led by a seeing-eye dog. I was zombie-like as I followed him outside. I can't recall how I managed to stuff my own sausage back inside my jeans. After I returned to David, I quickly informed him that I was going for a stroll. He gave me a knowing wink, although I was sure he couldn't have known what had transpired in the loo.

I watched a bit of the war demo, hardly seeing a thing but my Roman as he went through his choreographed motions. I started ambling off before I would be noticeable, hardly able to contain my excitement or the building heat in my groin. I walked about a quarter mile into the woods down the shady pathway he had earlier indicated. I couldn't wait for my Roman encounter, and after what seemed like hours and hours I heard the sound of sandals in the brush. It was him. And I was glad he hadn't stopped to change. "So ya' fancy a Roman soldier, do ya' mate?" he asked softly as he approached the spot where I had planted myself. Again, I could only nod my head. "D'ya' fancy having some soldier cock to taste?" In reply I sank to my knees. He stood above me and I felt like a Brit of old ready to service his conqueror. His pouch looked like it contained a miniature cannon. His entire chest and stomach were smooth and devoid of hair, but toned and hard. Black hairs dotted his legs however, and I could see that a thick bush grew around his cock area. He pushed himself against me, and I licked the cloth around the swollen prickmeat. "Take it out, mate. Suck it good for me, ok?" He helped me extract the burgeoning, blood- engorged flesh stalk, and it was more beautiful than I had even remembered. He was cut which is such an unusual sight in England, and that made my mouth water all the more. He thrust his hips against me, and let his cape fall to the ground. My mouth opened like Pavlov's dog —instinctively. I had to have that huge soldier cock engulfed down my throat. I began licking it everywhere, kissing the tip and downwards to his hair-covered ballsac. I cradled the balls in my hand while I lapped them over every inch. It tasted of man smells and man odors, heady and musky. I licked up and down the underside of his swollen shaft, slurping and tonguing it until he was groaning with a sound of urgency. He shoved it between my lips, and I sucked it inwards and then all the way down. I gagged at first but the sensation was intensely pleasurable. I needed to deep-throat that meat and please my returned-from-war soldier. The spoils of war were mine to service, and I sucked deep and fast and hard. He began punching my gullet with the steel-hard meatstick, and I kept breathing through my nose so as to have every inch of my throat crammed with his soldier cock. I grabbed onto his hips, and ran my hands over his firm, beefy asscheeks, feeling free to poke one finger up his puckered hole. "Wank while you suck this soldier cock prick, " he ordered me, as he groaned loudly. I hurriedly pulled my own stiff dick from out of my pants and began jerking it with one hand while I let him face-fuck me to his hard-on's content. Using my right hand I managed to insert one entire finger up his asshole, locating his prostate in the process. That did just the trick. Suddenly Roman soldier cock was cumming in gushers down my throat, spilling from his meaty spigot in warm, creamy streams. I sucked it up eagerly and greedily, refusing to let even one drop escape the confines of my hungry mouth. He thrust forward inching his meat a little further down as he let loose with his final spurts of man-tasting jizz. I removed the hand playing with his ass to squeeze his cock, to milk it totally dry, and as I licked up those final cum drops, my own load splattered and sprayed geyser-like from my wide-open piss slit. As I sucked him bone-dry, I could see my cum had landed all over his knee-high thonged sandals. I smiled at my Roman soldier gratefully as I licked up all my cum from them. "Take care of ya'self mate," he winked at me, as he stuffed his now shriveled cock back into its pouch!