brother.”

I said sharply, “What do you know about my brother? Who are you? Why am I here? What are you planning to do to me?”

He smiled and said, “Be at ease, Sir – as I said before, all is known. I was sent to inform you that the petition that you made to the Legions for the protection of your noble brother has been granted, and to grant also to you the pleasures of this place.” With that, he stepped back from the couch, and dropped his leatherish skirt to the ground.

The lower body thus revealed rivaled in beauty the torso which I had already admired – from the flare of his hips, and the corresponding “v” of musculature from his abs to his groin, down his strong legs, he was stupendous – as perfect a physical specimen as I had ever seen. He also had a serious woody sprouting, but it was not like my own smallish 7 inches or so – his was just getting started, and as I watched in openmouthed, wide-eyed fascination it began to swell and lift before me. What must have been a full 10 inches of thick, virile man-meat is rising to greet me, bobbing slowly between his massive thighs, topped by a bulbous head and backed by two low-hanging balls the size of turkey eggs. I’d never seen balls that big nor an uncut prong that huge and thick on a human, and I was simply stunned at the sight of this vision of all that is desirably masculine that I found before me. I understood now why some people in some cities willingly surrendered to the Roman Legions, for whom rape and pillage – especially rape - were de rigueur.

He grinned at me, as I lay there stunned at his display, he took some more of the herbal unguent into his hands. Starting at my neck and throat, he spread it all over my chest and abs as he had my back – but now, as his rough hands gently traveled across my eager skin, he bent over and gently kissed me on the mouth. “Your desires, Sir – all of your desires, not just those for your brother’s safety – are known, and will be honored. My name is Lucius Quintullus, Centurion of the 5th Legion.”

My reeling brain focused on one of the gravestones I had seen – the one I had surreptitiously touched. I murmured “Quintullus? I saw that name on the stone, didn’t I?”

He smiled gently and said, “Yes – that was my stone, placed at the head of my grave by my grieving sons, accompanied by my troops. I was a good commander, husband, and father – or tried to be – and I was well and truly mourned. You touched the stone, and felt what you felt, and your thoughts were as noble as are your brother’s deeds. For that reason you were led here, and your petition was granted, and you are to be rewarded as many of our bravest soldiers were.”

With that, he poured some more of the oil from the tall jar onto my chest and abdomen, and massaged it into my skin, once again leaving it first burning, then tingling deliciously. All of