The legionaries of the Ninth were relieved to be back in Rome. It had been a hard campaign, and more of their companions than they liked to remember hadn't made it home. But here they were back on the Field of Mars outside the boundary of their city and all the whores, it seemed, in Rome were here to welcome them.
'It's alright for you,' Mark Antony grumbled to Caesar who had dismissed the crowd of clamouring girls offering him whatever he wanted – free of charge for the General. 'You've got the lovely Pompeia waiting at home. And I'll bet she'll be all wet and juicy at the thought of your arrival.'
'Pompeia?' Caesar snorted dismissively. 'She's as dry as a bone. Even on our wedding night. Nothing gets her wet. And I can assure you I have tried.'
'I don't believe it!' Antony's dark face stared at him in astonishment. 'Pompeia, with all that glorious red hair and those plump breasts! She's made for a long, slow fucking.' He nudged Caesar. 'You can't be doing it right.'
For a moment the blue eyes were chilly as snow, then he smiled, not altogether pleasantly. 'You think you can do better than me?'
'I'm willing to try.' The tension between them hardened.
'Alright,' Caesar said. 'Come home with me. And prove it.'
Pompeia was in her sitting room when they arrived at Caesar's house. It was November, the end of the war season, and was getting dark already.
'No kisses for me, wife?' Caesar said, pulling her up into his arms. He kissed her with his hard mouth, felt hers open under him but she didn't kiss him back, just stood there accepting him passively.
'I have no taste for forcing an unwilling woman,' Caesar said, pulling away. 'Perhaps Antony can heat you where I can't. Go to him and let him try.'
Pompeia's big green eyes opened wider with shock. 'What do you mean?' she stammered.
'Go to him,' Caesar repeated. 'We need some wine.'
He called for the slaves, ordered wine to be brought and braziers to warm the cold air.
'Come on, sweetheart,' Antony coaxed. 'Come and let me kiss you. You'll enjoy it. Women always do.'
Short where Caesar was tall, dark where Caesar was fair, thick with muscle and with laughing dark eyes, Antony was reputedly one of the best lovers in Rome and his confidence told her he knew it. The thought of being kissed by that lush, sulky mouth warmed her but all the same she didn't move. It was shameful what her husband had suggested. No Roman man would allow such a thing.
'Go on,' Caesar prompted. 'Go to Antony.' He sat down in a chair, his long legs stretched comfortably out in front of him. 'Do it Pompeia, or I swear I'll divorce you.'
'You can't mean that!'
'I can assure you I do. Do you want me to prove it?'
'Don't bully her, Caesar, Antony interrupted. 'Come on, sweetheart. Take no notice. Just come and sit here on the couch with me.'
Pompeia went reluctantly, not knowing what else to do. Antony's body was compact and solid beneath his too-tight soldier's tunic. She had heard two of her slaves whispering once that his cock was the thickest she had ever seen.
'Thicker than the Master's?' the other had giggled, wide-eyed.
'I swear, it was thicker. Like my arm. Here.' She had closed her hand over her left arm, close to her elbow. 'Not as long as the Master's,' she had added, 'but thicker's always best. There's more to feel.'
They had seen her then and had stopped immediately, their faces aflame with fear. She didn't know that she had remembered so much detail, was horrified at the images the memory conjured up in her head. A cock as thick as her arm!
'Don't look so scared,' Antony said cheerfully. His teeth were very white and even in his tanned face. Now that she was close she could see the black stubble on his hard jaw. She sat down on the edge of the couch and felt his heavy arms go around her.
'We'll just kiss a little,' Antony murmured. 'And we'll see what happens.'
He had been drinking, she could taste the wine on his lips, his tongue. He smelt different from the fastidiously clean Caesar: of fresh sweat and horses and leather.
'Mmm, that's nice,' Antony breathed. 'You like it too, don't you? I told Caesar you would. Kiss me again and this time I'm going to touch your breasts. No, don't struggle! It'll be so nice, nicer than just kissing.'
His big hands were warm even through her tunic as they cupped her breasts, wakening all her nerve endings. His thumbs flicked slowly over her nipples sending arrows of desire through her. She could feel herself moistening between her thighs, feel the heavy ache as he kept stroking her, his fingers circling her nipples, stroking up them so that they lengthened and hardened beneath his touch. She had never known that she was so sensitive there.
'You're loving it, aren't you sweetheart,' Antony whispered. He took her nipples between his thumb and finger and squeezed gently so that she gasped and pressed against him. 'I knew you would. Look down, watch what I'm doing to you.'
It was impossible, Pompeia thought dazedly, that she could be sitting here in her own familiar room with a strangers hands all over her breasts while her husband sat opposite and watched. Oh, but the things Antony was doing to her!
'Undo your dress, sweetheart. Let me touch you flesh to flesh. Let me lick you – you'd like that, wouldn't you? Imagine my tongue, my mouth here on your hard nipples while my fingers are free to explore.'
It was like a dream where someone else's hands, not hers, untied her dress and drew it down to her waist, presenting her nipples to that wonderful mouth. She closed her eyes and moaned out loud as his lips closed over her. His tongue flicked delicately, pushing the hard tip backwards and forwards as his hand pulled her tunic up, his thick fingers parting her thighs.
'What do you think now, Caesar?' he laughed raising his head. 'She might be dry for you but she's not for me.' His fingers slid through her damp red hair, then he showed them to his General, glistening with her wetness. 'She's soaked,' he announced triumphantly.
The door opened and one of the slaves came in. Pompeia gave a cry of shame but Antony laughed and held her still, his hand moving gently between her legs, not entering her yet, just stroking there, getting her wetter. The boy's eyes widened with shock at the sight of his mistress sitting on the couch, her tunic bundled around her waist, her bare breasts wet still from Antony's sucking, her thighs spread around his moving hand.
'Just pour the wine,' Caesar suggested coldly. 'And some for Antony.'
'Leave mine on the table,' Antony grinned. 'My hands are full.' He pushed Pompeia back onto the couch and came up onto his knees. 'And yours soon will be too. Touch me.'
She could see the outline of his cock under his tight tunic.
'I can't' she whispered and swallowed.
'Of course you can. You can't stop looking at it. Just put your fingers where your eyes are. Come on, you know you want to.'
She did want to. She could feel herself so wet that she was dripping on the couch.
'Here.' Antony took her hand and placed it on his cock, pressing it there. 'There isn't a thicker one in Rome,' he boasted. 'Do you want to see it properly?'
He undid his belt, threw it on the floor, pulled his tunic off over his head and knelt there over her body. He was tanned all over, covered in dark hair. It should have been obscene but it excited her further. He was like an animal, intent on physical pleasure, uncaring where it came from or who she was.
'Here.' He thrust his hips towards her. 'Use both hands. Wank me a little. Oh yes, that's good.'
He was thick and straight, so hard that his cock touched his flat muscled stomach. His skin felt burning hot as she moved her hands over him, squeezed him, needing both hands to circle his incredible girth.
'Keep wanking me,' he muttered as he moved up her body on his big knees. 'And suck my cock at the same time.'
Pompeia hated it when Caesar did this to her, but when Antony pushed into her mouth, she opened for him.
'Lick it,' he grunted. 'Oh yes! Get it really wet. Do you want a little more in your mouth? Here, take it.' He pushed in further, pressing her tongue down, making her feel more helpless than before as she opened and allowed him in. 'Oh yes. You're mad, Caesar. She's a sweetheart.'
His hands found her nipples again and pucked them as he thrust further into her mouth. Her lips were stretched wide and she could barely move her tongue with the size of his cock filling her, but she loved it, loved having him take what he wanted with no concern for her.
'Do you like me fucking your mouth? That's what I'm doing Pompeia, fucking your mouth.' His hips were thrusting rhythmically, his cock rubbing her lips sore. He pushed her hands down.
'Stroke my balls, sweetheart. Squeeze them softly in your fingers. Oh yes, like that, while you suck me.'
His balls were big and full. She wondered what they would feel like in her mouth. She wished she could take them in with his cock but it was impossible. She was already full to capacity.
'Do you want to suck them?' he groaned as if he had read her mind. 'Oh, I don't want to pull out, your mouth feels so good. But I have to. Here, sweetheart.' He held his massive cock in his big fist and pulled it back, exposing his balls to her. 'Take them in your mouth and suck them hard.'
He looked over at Caesar as Pompeia wriggled down on the couch and sucked at his balls.
