The Philosopher's Tool
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The oars struck the water in unison and with a monstrous
heave were pulled up and out and propelled the ship
forward. In time to the rhythm beaten out on the huge
oxhide drum, the rowers once again followed the same
cycle that ensured that even when the wind was low the
business of sea-trade continued.

Chitineus watched the merchant ship with fascination as it
sailed out of the harbour. Just as the tool of the musician
was his instrument, in this case, the drum, the tool of the
seaman's trade was his muscles. And what muscles!
Chitineus relished the sight of the lithe muscular sailors,
naked of course, who either rowed the ship or managed its
sails. Such bodies. Such masculine pride. Those limbs and
loins tuned by the rigours of the sea and the daily exercise
of their profession. They were tools to be proud of. Just as
in a philosopher such as Chitineus the chief tool was the
brain. And, of course, his five sensual organs: the most
important being his eyes and the sight they bestowed on
him.

But the sensual organ most enjoying the sight of the naked
sailors was that between his legs. It twitched and jerked
beneath the woven wool of his chiton. Of course, this was
also a tool of value but for a philosopher it was more of a
distraction from the task of understanding the world and
its intrinsic truths. There may be no harm in gaining
pleasure, as do all spirited men, from the sight of the
naked bodies working on the ships. Indeed, what man
would not be aroused by the sight of the muscular fellows
on the docks lifting the huge baskets, gourds and
amphorae?

There was one workman that caught Chitineus' eye. A
bundle of taut hard muscle and noble aspect, who carried
not only a huge amphora over his shoulder as he strode
over the plank to the ship but swinging free between his
legs was a penis that was the envy of all sea-faring folk.
Still flaccid but prouder than that of most men when erect
and one which directed most men's hands to their own
organs which they would rub and pummel with excitement
at the sight of this proud organ on such a magnificent
body. Was anyone else so blessed?

Well, thought Chitineus, there indeed was one other and
that was himself.

His desire for male flesh had become overwhelming and,
notwithstanding that where he stood on the dock-side he
could be seen by slaves and plebeians, he parted his
garments to expose his huge erect penis to the elements.
There was only one thing to do with his proud manhood
when faced with such absolute temptation and that was to
hold it erect and belabour it with wrist and fingers until the
proof of his virility poured forth on the marble pavement.

However, before his seed was spent, he felt a second hand
clasp his penis and from behind him a beard brush his
neck and shoulder. It was Phoenictetes, a fellow
philosopher, whom Chitineus often fucked in the company
of friends.

"Which fellow catches your fancy?" Phoenictetes asked his
friend, sliding his grip up and