The Engineer s TaleChapter 5
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Quintus Serverus was grunting and sweating profusely. He was straining under immense self imposed pressure. A Roman orgy was meant to be pleasure defined. The reason why the barbarian hordes wanted to be in, rather than outside the Empire. Still five butt holes to go was a demanding task. His cohort of slave girls and boys and his reputation as a party stayer on the line. Country villas were luxurious; but by Jupiter, a whole weekend of sex, hopefully there were some gladiators and captives to fight b**sts tomorrow afternoon. He needed a break from sex. Even some hunting or fishing. He had brought his hunting dogs with him.
Gaius Scaura his best friend was struggling manfully with two dark skinned Ethiopian slave girls recently arrived through Egypt. His dick resembled an ivory tusk as it filled a nubile areshole from behind. His hands vainly trying to concentrate on the other young slave woman’s tits in front of him at the same time. While his personal grooming slave was prodding his dick into his masters arse as instructed.
Quintus’ twin brother Titus was cheating as usual using a beautifully crafted ebony dildo on a young male slave’s arse. He was heading depraved too quickly in his eighteenth summer of life. Excess leads to the excessive.
The party’s host Sextus Tertullus was flagging badly. A flaccid heap despite four incredibly beautiful German slaves from the Rhine river frontier surrounding him. Two women and two men. Blonde everywhere, even been their legs and around the male cocks, an unusual sight here. The Gaulish girls and boys were usually dark haired, the typical party fare. The Spanish regulars, dark haired too, with their olive skins. The African women were an exotic treat but really so last season. The rumours of some red haired Celtic slaves from Hadrian’s Wall; at Suetonius Luetus party on Capri had the whole orgy circuit slightly excited. Rumours had it they were incredibly feral when it came to heated body games and had displayed openly dirty tricks of their own bordering on filthy contortionist sex.
Only Herennius Canus was still at it with vigour at this party. But he liked the young men and his wife wouldn’t have any in her household. So he really chased arse when out, off the leash; like tonight.
The party was heading listless like the two giant resting Irish wolf hounds snoozing in a corner. Hunting held more excitement for them.
The women still here were bored; basically jaded. They had their slave ‘boy toys ‘at home, on a short leash. These orgies were really for their husbands, whose dicks now late into the evening couldn’t keep up with the filth generated in their minds. The truth was at one a week now, no one cared. Valeria Mela and Servilla Aelius were just drinking wine half naked. Nobody in the room even glancing at their shapely wifely breasts. Their husbands Marcus and Antony were snoring naked on a pile of cushions, several slave girls were at least getting some coochie and butthole rest here. Though Titus and his dildo were trying to service every female and male slave butthole in the room. There were three waiting near Quintus. He was cheating now too and fingering a couple of arses at the same time. He was resting his dick for what. The evening was close to done. Saving his cum wad for something special. It just wasn’t here. Though…
The gracious and stunning Julia Bassiana entered the musky sweaty room. Accompanied by a Vestal Virgin who didn’t blink an eye at proceedings, the eye catching but dangerous Vipsania, a recently appointed full Vestal Virgin. She was tall, a clear hour glass figure in her white tunic, symbolic of her purity, offset by a thin purple border, her breasts barely restrained by her fascia, the tight band below her breasts only accentuating her femininity, her hair in plaits, and a simple headband was designed to highlight not compete with her attractive face, the plaits trapping her natural brunette length. No use looking; Vestals were off limits even in training. Once fully initiated beyond even a Gods cock reach.
Though Quintus as he finally gave up, fingering a Spanish youth’s arse… dared to think, maybe. Why would a girl like this choose chastity? Wrong, why would parents commit a girl like this to sexual isolation for life? Well thirty years…but starting a sex life at forty or forty five…better than none? Status, it always came down to status and having a patron or being a patron and putting on games for the plebs and sex for the rich. Everyone was client or patron, rubbing or prodding arses and brown nosing each way in the city.
If a Vestal had sex they would be buried alive. Not actually but condemned to starve to death in a sealed underground chamber. A serious disincentive to having sex. The offending male faced public death by flogging. Dangerous girls to approach. Though the adage applied…if you were caught. The lure of the forbidden outweighs the ease of the sexually accessible…we want what we are told we can’t have. What Quintus couldn’t have was in the room.
There were eighteen of these off limits pedestal virgins at a time. Service for thirty years. Sex in the twilight of life was there …but surely as a young woman she wanted it now. No choice when chosen as a novice at five years of age. Quintus thought her teen years must have been hell, while supposedly serving the Gods, Rome and Empire. Technically married to Rome for thirty years. Crimen Religiosus was the crime: she would be guilty of forbidden relationships with the city, not the man if caught. They had serious obligations to protect the city and perform rituals in a pure unsullied by male state and protect their virginity. Kept intact for the city’s safety and its future prosperity.
Always chaperoned. Protected in their female only dwelling behind the Temple of Vesta. Never out alone. The festivals, the crowds, the Ides of July, maybe an opportunity with the gorgeous Vipsania. The festival was three days away. A bit of planning time. Still in the moment, how to separate her from her guardian. Easy, her sentinel of the night was drawn to Valeria Mela and Servilla Aelius and proffered wine. It looked like Vipsania was going right outside to relieve herself.
Preferable to the filling buckets, at the ready just through the atrium. Dark, the cover of dark was good for illicit sex. Still she may reject him out of fear or out of coldness. You just never knew …with power women.
Quintus had roped in Titus. He was always up for the difficult challenge. And this topped them all. Sex followed by death. Well if you were caught.
It was dark. Too dark as Quintus had waited to follow Vipsania. Titus would exit the long way and go round the villa soon. The gap between one person leaving the room, especially a female, and a male leaving. You could rarely ever time it right. Some gossipy female always noticed the machinations of sexual movement, the contrivances that couldn’t cover open desire, the wiles of lust, and the expediency of youth’s lewd cravings; they usually failed to shield unbridled desire. The fools, their eyes usually already gave their intentions away no matter how many minutes passed between a female leaving the room alone and then soon after a male leaving a room alone. Male follow female, too basic, too predictable.
There was only the curve of a partly clouded moon. Plenty of stars. Venus shining bright. Bring me luck, Venus, he lisped to himself. Quintus stumbled around, hand against the exterior courtyard wall of the villa, till his outstretched hand rested on a breast in the dark. Then his hand was removed deftly and without a word by slender long fingers. He knew that much. It’s like he had over stepped the boundary already. Trespassing without knowing it, like accidentally bumping your sister’s boob.
“By the Gods…Pardon me”
“Pardon what…you choose to follow me” Vipsania voice testing steel and resolve.
“You speak the truth…so do you want me here?” Quintus held his voice steady.
“Yes…but you must follow my rules …or you could be the walking dead”
His eyes adjusted to the dark after a while. Gloomy shapes took form, he saw much more than before. Her white tunic caught the night light. He waits…she keeps a slight distance.
“Obey my instructions…you must avoid my cunt…it cannot be touched or penetrated… Do you understand?”
“Yes …I understand”
“I need to relieve myself…you may bathe in my glorious liquid…are you ready…you are welcome to be showered or imbibe it…the choice is yours”, Vipsania establishing her control.
Vipsania lifted her tunic above her mound of Venus. She pushed back against the villa wall, her thighs stretched wide. The moonlight caught her dense dark pubic mound. Her hands exposed her own luscious lips and the golden spray came in a gushing rustic flow like the first forceful sudden spurt from a rural hand pump.
Quintus accepted the squirt. A hard wet steamy warm controlled jet of her piss sprayed his face. She was able to control her flow and stopped.
Damp dribbly drops rested on her cunt lips, wet and sexy glistening drops of piss poised to drip at her hairy spread opening.
She gushed a second generous spray like a high thin waterfall, the stream of piss curving up, then down into Quintus mouth…as she arched right back, pushing her sexual self out into the night. Her ability to staunch the flow amazing and increasing the pleasure, lengthening the sensation of wetness. It was warm and salty. Strangely addictive in its difference to orgy sex.
The rest came in a copious, profuse abandoned cascade of fem-enjoyment and fem-domination, swiftly out of her piss flaps. It was rapid and soaking. It splattered through his hair, across his face and on his tunic. It was like an unexpected cloudburst that breaks a drought. Saturation unexpected but in the instance accepted.
A final burst, the radiant golden shower, the stream still of a rich strong arousing rapid wet warmth , nearly heated, the steam causing vapours in the night, then the dripping dribbly trickle, as it ceased…the wet flaps soaked in her own piss. Bodily functions crossing over into the sexual pleasure zone. Impersonal neighbours now carousingly intimate.
Titus arrived just as she finished. Quintus indicated to Vipsania this was his brother. She intimated she knew they were conspirators in pleasure seeking. She had seen them together… planning inside. She outlined the deadly rules to Titus quickly.
Both men hitched their clothes as instructed by Vipsania. Titus was to direct his piss force only onto her clit. Nowhere else or she would leave. The end of this play. Very quickly a fast stream of warm piss hit her clit, splashing then spraying and dampening her pubic hair into a matted strandy sop and running down her thighs and pooling on the ground. Piss sploshing, sloshing and drizzling everywhere. It was titillating and lewd. The excitement for the twins in the zany, crazy offbeat seemingly taboo behaviour of all involved. One pissing, one watching, both feeling with Vipsania; her own skewered pleasure of piss on her clit.
There was a kinky, dominating side to this woman and she was revelling in it, her excitement of the fetish was clear, as Titus’ piss stream did its wet slushy work. Till it was reduced to a few drips of piddle shaken off his cock.
A strange sense of gratification combined with a seeming act of humiliation. A bodily function used in sex play. Could the evening get any stranger?
It was Quintus turn. His instruction was to piss on her pubes and held open cunt. The musty smell of her sex wafted up through the night, combined with the stale urine smell. Heady.
There was an excitement of the denied, her fleshy pussy, yet intimately splashing and spraying her femininity with piss. It was tantalizing. They were Tantalus; he was forever denied the fruit above and the water below. They were being denied her breasts and her gaping cunt. The desired so close, yet a permanent tease. Touchable easy, yet untouchable. There was no yawning uncross-able chasm actually denying them her elemental womanly fissure, the pleasure prize of all men. Hannibal they both knew had scared the fucking crap out of Rome by daring to cross the Alps. You dare…it happens. Only a rule, the rule of the city, built on traditions, stopping them. A rule, we all breaks rules. Impermissible, banned, and proscribed by sacred law. Are there lines we don’t dare cross? Desire versus the statutes and customs of time. Yet Caesar had dared to cross the Rubicon, would they?
Quintus propelled his piss stream with his whipped cock action all over her pubes; this was no call of nature, against a wall or behind a bush in the dark. It was deliberate and weirdly vulgar as it swished her skin and hairy parts in a second drenching spray. Sopping and dank and lank long pubes between her exposed thighs. This sort of activity needed the cover of night. It was dark and dirty but very nice. Her spread pussy clammy wet. A slight ammonia smell drifting and straying to all their nostrils. Acrid but sought; the smell and the sight building pleasurable delight.
“Listen carefully…you may cream my arse….no hymen to be checked there” indicating Titus.
Then pointing at Quintus she said: “ You may please me and yourself in my mouth…if either of you touch or finger my pussy…my friends in the Praetorian Guard will slit your silly throats…understood…quickly...I must get back…so must you.”
She massaged Quintus prick from her dogged position. Her sensuous warm lips wrapping around his soon erect hot cock. His butt slightly cold as the night chill hit. Titus worked up his own beef stick, which was easy as her sopping piss flaps were visible between her spread dog legs. Her narrow back alleyway primed as a fuck passage by a generous wad of spit and his probing finger as foreplay. So he would stuff one of the Vestal’s inner sanctums. Her spice cavern was tight. Vipsania writhed her buttocks in a pleasurable response to a good entry move. She had delicious refined control of her muscles in her tail. She was the ambrosia of the gods. If this was forbidden Titus wanted it. Wanted it even more as she arse muscle clenched him. Her clasp and grasp sensational.
Quintus was savouring his moments in her mouth. Vipsania was sucking exquisitely. Combining a soft wet soppy glide around his sensitive head with the fierce hard deep throat suction of sinking cock… ball deep…repeatedly ball deep. Building for a great blow. Her lips forming a smear of smoothness over his shaft, a defining slurry of salivary pleasure. He jerked and blew his load in her waiting mouth. She gobbled his seed like it was vital to her being, a part of living. It appeared to sustain her.
Titus was in paradise in her compact compressed rear. So snug. So joined. So tight. The constriction of desire. The security of pleasure. The lock of cock bliss. He came in her arse as directed. The cock jerking release was awesome. His throbbing dick had nowhere to move, yet it did imperceptibly and it was amazingly pleasurable. Her exacting, binding anus, addictive in its scrunching grip. She came astonishingly strongly, deeper than both young men had ever seen or taken a woman at an orgy or privately. She had rapidly fingered her clit directly. It was the virgin’s orgasm of repeatedly unfilled lust …her unrequited pussy…her forlorn desperate status…her miserable denied natural womanly satisfaction. She took what she could fully of self. Extracted from her clit the maximum it offered.
Her body satisfied in the moment. Her mind pondering years of lost true sexual fulfilment.
“A shared secret…remember….speak of it never …I have friendly ears all through the city and beyond…to speak of this is your death warrant and mine”
The twins indicated they understood.
Titus wanted to know her full name …as a secret…Vipsania he knew was her adopted name.
She told them: “I am Octavia Serverus… my full Vestal name is Vipsania Catullus…after my adopted patron …the fact you were twins took my fancy…as I remembered newborn twins in my father’s household as I was committed to the priestess-hood as a young girl”
Quintus and Titus drew back in shocked disbelief: this was their half sister. By the gods. Double taboo…once committed deliberately against the city and secondly by accident to their family. Criminal pleasure.
Vipsania sensed the truth before they confirmed it. Too late to be moral now. Another layer to keep the secret darker than this night. Her mother had died, her father remarried and having two male heirs, the bitchy step mother committed Octavia to the priestess hood to secure a new powerful benefactor in the patronage games of the city.
Titus was instructed to induce self vomit and leave stains on his clothes and return first. His excuse for his absence clear. Quintus was directed to the stables to suck off the slave grooms, then return later inside. His alibi if necessary confirmed with smeared dung on his sandals. Vipsania would seek out her chaperon and leave. So clinically sure of herself in her outward thinking.
They split and separated into the night. Yet horribly joyfully joined forever by the night. Sinfully savouring their entwining in a nights delight. The pleasure in their minds yet to be tempered by reflection. It would come in the quiet light of day.
Light only brought the need to seek the dark again.
Gaius Scaura his best friend was struggling manfully with two dark skinned Ethiopian slave girls recently arrived through Egypt. His dick resembled an ivory tusk as it filled a nubile areshole from behind. His hands vainly trying to concentrate on the other young slave woman’s tits in front of him at the same time. While his personal grooming slave was prodding his dick into his masters arse as instructed.
Quintus’ twin brother Titus was cheating as usual using a beautifully crafted ebony dildo on a young male slave’s arse. He was heading depraved too quickly in his eighteenth summer of life. Excess leads to the excessive.
The party’s host Sextus Tertullus was flagging badly. A flaccid heap despite four incredibly beautiful German slaves from the Rhine river frontier surrounding him. Two women and two men. Blonde everywhere, even been their legs and around the male cocks, an unusual sight here. The Gaulish girls and boys were usually dark haired, the typical party fare. The Spanish regulars, dark haired too, with their olive skins. The African women were an exotic treat but really so last season. The rumours of some red haired Celtic slaves from Hadrian’s Wall; at Suetonius Luetus party on Capri had the whole orgy circuit slightly excited. Rumours had it they were incredibly feral when it came to heated body games and had displayed openly dirty tricks of their own bordering on filthy contortionist sex.
Only Herennius Canus was still at it with vigour at this party. But he liked the young men and his wife wouldn’t have any in her household. So he really chased arse when out, off the leash; like tonight.
The party was heading listless like the two giant resting Irish wolf hounds snoozing in a corner. Hunting held more excitement for them.
The women still here were bored; basically jaded. They had their slave ‘boy toys ‘at home, on a short leash. These orgies were really for their husbands, whose dicks now late into the evening couldn’t keep up with the filth generated in their minds. The truth was at one a week now, no one cared. Valeria Mela and Servilla Aelius were just drinking wine half naked. Nobody in the room even glancing at their shapely wifely breasts. Their husbands Marcus and Antony were snoring naked on a pile of cushions, several slave girls were at least getting some coochie and butthole rest here. Though Titus and his dildo were trying to service every female and male slave butthole in the room. There were three waiting near Quintus. He was cheating now too and fingering a couple of arses at the same time. He was resting his dick for what. The evening was close to done. Saving his cum wad for something special. It just wasn’t here. Though…
The gracious and stunning Julia Bassiana entered the musky sweaty room. Accompanied by a Vestal Virgin who didn’t blink an eye at proceedings, the eye catching but dangerous Vipsania, a recently appointed full Vestal Virgin. She was tall, a clear hour glass figure in her white tunic, symbolic of her purity, offset by a thin purple border, her breasts barely restrained by her fascia, the tight band below her breasts only accentuating her femininity, her hair in plaits, and a simple headband was designed to highlight not compete with her attractive face, the plaits trapping her natural brunette length. No use looking; Vestals were off limits even in training. Once fully initiated beyond even a Gods cock reach.
Though Quintus as he finally gave up, fingering a Spanish youth’s arse… dared to think, maybe. Why would a girl like this choose chastity? Wrong, why would parents commit a girl like this to sexual isolation for life? Well thirty years…but starting a sex life at forty or forty five…better than none? Status, it always came down to status and having a patron or being a patron and putting on games for the plebs and sex for the rich. Everyone was client or patron, rubbing or prodding arses and brown nosing each way in the city.
If a Vestal had sex they would be buried alive. Not actually but condemned to starve to death in a sealed underground chamber. A serious disincentive to having sex. The offending male faced public death by flogging. Dangerous girls to approach. Though the adage applied…if you were caught. The lure of the forbidden outweighs the ease of the sexually accessible…we want what we are told we can’t have. What Quintus couldn’t have was in the room.
There were eighteen of these off limits pedestal virgins at a time. Service for thirty years. Sex in the twilight of life was there …but surely as a young woman she wanted it now. No choice when chosen as a novice at five years of age. Quintus thought her teen years must have been hell, while supposedly serving the Gods, Rome and Empire. Technically married to Rome for thirty years. Crimen Religiosus was the crime: she would be guilty of forbidden relationships with the city, not the man if caught. They had serious obligations to protect the city and perform rituals in a pure unsullied by male state and protect their virginity. Kept intact for the city’s safety and its future prosperity.
Always chaperoned. Protected in their female only dwelling behind the Temple of Vesta. Never out alone. The festivals, the crowds, the Ides of July, maybe an opportunity with the gorgeous Vipsania. The festival was three days away. A bit of planning time. Still in the moment, how to separate her from her guardian. Easy, her sentinel of the night was drawn to Valeria Mela and Servilla Aelius and proffered wine. It looked like Vipsania was going right outside to relieve herself.
Preferable to the filling buckets, at the ready just through the atrium. Dark, the cover of dark was good for illicit sex. Still she may reject him out of fear or out of coldness. You just never knew …with power women.
Quintus had roped in Titus. He was always up for the difficult challenge. And this topped them all. Sex followed by death. Well if you were caught.
It was dark. Too dark as Quintus had waited to follow Vipsania. Titus would exit the long way and go round the villa soon. The gap between one person leaving the room, especially a female, and a male leaving. You could rarely ever time it right. Some gossipy female always noticed the machinations of sexual movement, the contrivances that couldn’t cover open desire, the wiles of lust, and the expediency of youth’s lewd cravings; they usually failed to shield unbridled desire. The fools, their eyes usually already gave their intentions away no matter how many minutes passed between a female leaving the room alone and then soon after a male leaving a room alone. Male follow female, too basic, too predictable.
There was only the curve of a partly clouded moon. Plenty of stars. Venus shining bright. Bring me luck, Venus, he lisped to himself. Quintus stumbled around, hand against the exterior courtyard wall of the villa, till his outstretched hand rested on a breast in the dark. Then his hand was removed deftly and without a word by slender long fingers. He knew that much. It’s like he had over stepped the boundary already. Trespassing without knowing it, like accidentally bumping your sister’s boob.
“By the Gods…Pardon me”
“Pardon what…you choose to follow me” Vipsania voice testing steel and resolve.
“You speak the truth…so do you want me here?” Quintus held his voice steady.
“Yes…but you must follow my rules …or you could be the walking dead”
His eyes adjusted to the dark after a while. Gloomy shapes took form, he saw much more than before. Her white tunic caught the night light. He waits…she keeps a slight distance.
“Obey my instructions…you must avoid my cunt…it cannot be touched or penetrated… Do you understand?”
“Yes …I understand”
“I need to relieve myself…you may bathe in my glorious liquid…are you ready…you are welcome to be showered or imbibe it…the choice is yours”, Vipsania establishing her control.
Vipsania lifted her tunic above her mound of Venus. She pushed back against the villa wall, her thighs stretched wide. The moonlight caught her dense dark pubic mound. Her hands exposed her own luscious lips and the golden spray came in a gushing rustic flow like the first forceful sudden spurt from a rural hand pump.
Quintus accepted the squirt. A hard wet steamy warm controlled jet of her piss sprayed his face. She was able to control her flow and stopped.
Damp dribbly drops rested on her cunt lips, wet and sexy glistening drops of piss poised to drip at her hairy spread opening.
She gushed a second generous spray like a high thin waterfall, the stream of piss curving up, then down into Quintus mouth…as she arched right back, pushing her sexual self out into the night. Her ability to staunch the flow amazing and increasing the pleasure, lengthening the sensation of wetness. It was warm and salty. Strangely addictive in its difference to orgy sex.
The rest came in a copious, profuse abandoned cascade of fem-enjoyment and fem-domination, swiftly out of her piss flaps. It was rapid and soaking. It splattered through his hair, across his face and on his tunic. It was like an unexpected cloudburst that breaks a drought. Saturation unexpected but in the instance accepted.
A final burst, the radiant golden shower, the stream still of a rich strong arousing rapid wet warmth , nearly heated, the steam causing vapours in the night, then the dripping dribbly trickle, as it ceased…the wet flaps soaked in her own piss. Bodily functions crossing over into the sexual pleasure zone. Impersonal neighbours now carousingly intimate.
Titus arrived just as she finished. Quintus indicated to Vipsania this was his brother. She intimated she knew they were conspirators in pleasure seeking. She had seen them together… planning inside. She outlined the deadly rules to Titus quickly.
Both men hitched their clothes as instructed by Vipsania. Titus was to direct his piss force only onto her clit. Nowhere else or she would leave. The end of this play. Very quickly a fast stream of warm piss hit her clit, splashing then spraying and dampening her pubic hair into a matted strandy sop and running down her thighs and pooling on the ground. Piss sploshing, sloshing and drizzling everywhere. It was titillating and lewd. The excitement for the twins in the zany, crazy offbeat seemingly taboo behaviour of all involved. One pissing, one watching, both feeling with Vipsania; her own skewered pleasure of piss on her clit.
There was a kinky, dominating side to this woman and she was revelling in it, her excitement of the fetish was clear, as Titus’ piss stream did its wet slushy work. Till it was reduced to a few drips of piddle shaken off his cock.
A strange sense of gratification combined with a seeming act of humiliation. A bodily function used in sex play. Could the evening get any stranger?
It was Quintus turn. His instruction was to piss on her pubes and held open cunt. The musty smell of her sex wafted up through the night, combined with the stale urine smell. Heady.
There was an excitement of the denied, her fleshy pussy, yet intimately splashing and spraying her femininity with piss. It was tantalizing. They were Tantalus; he was forever denied the fruit above and the water below. They were being denied her breasts and her gaping cunt. The desired so close, yet a permanent tease. Touchable easy, yet untouchable. There was no yawning uncross-able chasm actually denying them her elemental womanly fissure, the pleasure prize of all men. Hannibal they both knew had scared the fucking crap out of Rome by daring to cross the Alps. You dare…it happens. Only a rule, the rule of the city, built on traditions, stopping them. A rule, we all breaks rules. Impermissible, banned, and proscribed by sacred law. Are there lines we don’t dare cross? Desire versus the statutes and customs of time. Yet Caesar had dared to cross the Rubicon, would they?
Quintus propelled his piss stream with his whipped cock action all over her pubes; this was no call of nature, against a wall or behind a bush in the dark. It was deliberate and weirdly vulgar as it swished her skin and hairy parts in a second drenching spray. Sopping and dank and lank long pubes between her exposed thighs. This sort of activity needed the cover of night. It was dark and dirty but very nice. Her spread pussy clammy wet. A slight ammonia smell drifting and straying to all their nostrils. Acrid but sought; the smell and the sight building pleasurable delight.
“Listen carefully…you may cream my arse….no hymen to be checked there” indicating Titus.
Then pointing at Quintus she said: “ You may please me and yourself in my mouth…if either of you touch or finger my pussy…my friends in the Praetorian Guard will slit your silly throats…understood…quickly...I must get back…so must you.”
She massaged Quintus prick from her dogged position. Her sensuous warm lips wrapping around his soon erect hot cock. His butt slightly cold as the night chill hit. Titus worked up his own beef stick, which was easy as her sopping piss flaps were visible between her spread dog legs. Her narrow back alleyway primed as a fuck passage by a generous wad of spit and his probing finger as foreplay. So he would stuff one of the Vestal’s inner sanctums. Her spice cavern was tight. Vipsania writhed her buttocks in a pleasurable response to a good entry move. She had delicious refined control of her muscles in her tail. She was the ambrosia of the gods. If this was forbidden Titus wanted it. Wanted it even more as she arse muscle clenched him. Her clasp and grasp sensational.
Quintus was savouring his moments in her mouth. Vipsania was sucking exquisitely. Combining a soft wet soppy glide around his sensitive head with the fierce hard deep throat suction of sinking cock… ball deep…repeatedly ball deep. Building for a great blow. Her lips forming a smear of smoothness over his shaft, a defining slurry of salivary pleasure. He jerked and blew his load in her waiting mouth. She gobbled his seed like it was vital to her being, a part of living. It appeared to sustain her.
Titus was in paradise in her compact compressed rear. So snug. So joined. So tight. The constriction of desire. The security of pleasure. The lock of cock bliss. He came in her arse as directed. The cock jerking release was awesome. His throbbing dick had nowhere to move, yet it did imperceptibly and it was amazingly pleasurable. Her exacting, binding anus, addictive in its scrunching grip. She came astonishingly strongly, deeper than both young men had ever seen or taken a woman at an orgy or privately. She had rapidly fingered her clit directly. It was the virgin’s orgasm of repeatedly unfilled lust …her unrequited pussy…her forlorn desperate status…her miserable denied natural womanly satisfaction. She took what she could fully of self. Extracted from her clit the maximum it offered.
Her body satisfied in the moment. Her mind pondering years of lost true sexual fulfilment.
“A shared secret…remember….speak of it never …I have friendly ears all through the city and beyond…to speak of this is your death warrant and mine”
The twins indicated they understood.
Titus wanted to know her full name …as a secret…Vipsania he knew was her adopted name.
She told them: “I am Octavia Serverus… my full Vestal name is Vipsania Catullus…after my adopted patron …the fact you were twins took my fancy…as I remembered newborn twins in my father’s household as I was committed to the priestess-hood as a young girl”
Quintus and Titus drew back in shocked disbelief: this was their half sister. By the gods. Double taboo…once committed deliberately against the city and secondly by accident to their family. Criminal pleasure.
Vipsania sensed the truth before they confirmed it. Too late to be moral now. Another layer to keep the secret darker than this night. Her mother had died, her father remarried and having two male heirs, the bitchy step mother committed Octavia to the priestess hood to secure a new powerful benefactor in the patronage games of the city.
Titus was instructed to induce self vomit and leave stains on his clothes and return first. His excuse for his absence clear. Quintus was directed to the stables to suck off the slave grooms, then return later inside. His alibi if necessary confirmed with smeared dung on his sandals. Vipsania would seek out her chaperon and leave. So clinically sure of herself in her outward thinking.
They split and separated into the night. Yet horribly joyfully joined forever by the night. Sinfully savouring their entwining in a nights delight. The pleasure in their minds yet to be tempered by reflection. It would come in the quiet light of day.
Light only brought the need to seek the dark again.
Emely
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