Fucking intently and ignoring the cacophony of anguished cries, they pumped with steady rhythms until – this time the Greek leading by a few seconds-both men once more reached orgasms and furiously undulated their juices into the squirming bodies pinned beneath them.
And so it went, time after time, with neither man showing the slightest sign of defeating exhaustion or having been bested by his opponent's continued virility. Gradually, however, the Greek began glancing worriedly more frequently at Bullpole who, in turn, glanced at the Greek with a perturbed expression when the other's attention was riveted upon the girl under him.
I sensed that a moment of decision was swiftly approaching. And it came indeed shortly thereafter with most surprising results. Straining simultaneously for yet another orgasm, Bullpole and the Greek slumped forward upon the girls in identical motions of total quits – each wearing an expression of dismay upon his face as he pitched forward with undisguised exhaustion.
“I cannot!” grunted Bullpole thickly.
“I'm spent!” bleated the Greek.
They stared disbelievingly at one another while the girls were removed and the physician closely examined the cunt of each girl, rising to announce with a bland expression: “Neither wench contains male juice, sire! Both wenches have been deflowered.”
“What is the count?” muttered Bullpole.
The scorekeeper cleared his throat. “An even thirty-two virgins apiece, sire. Which amounts to a draw. There is no winner, no loser, sir.”
The Greek regained his poise with magnificent speed and smoothness, grinning at Bullpole as he sat up on the edge of the couch and reached for a pitcher of wine handed him by a flirtatious little attendant wiggling her scantily draped curves at him in open invitation.
“Well, we're both good men, old friend!” laughed the Greek. “It seems that we shall have to face that fact! To your splendid virility, sir!”
Bullpole stared coldly. “Yes, that would indeed seem to be the case. Well, perhaps there will be another way, at another time.”
“For what, old friend?”
“For a final opportunity to determine who is the better man at what activity!” Bullpole rose wearily to his feet, starting out of the room with abrupt rudeness. “I dislike even results where any of my abilities are concerned!”
The Greek's face went thoughtfully hard.
Intuition bade me leap upon Bullpole as he went past the Greek, knowing that only if I accompanied that tyrant would I likely learn anything more about his mysterious ability to last during what had been a most unfair contest against him.
Intuition, as always, was indeed perceptive.
CHAPTER VI
Bullpole sat in a wide chair with his thighs apart, watching his physician carefully remove the material sheathing his organ. His brooding eyes studied the flesh-tinted sheath that had enabled him to maintain a stiffness long after his own organ would have been capable of remaining fully erect, due to sexual exhaustion.
A guard appeared in the doorway, waiting.
“What is it?” demanded Bullpole, glancing up as the physician completed removing the protective device from the huge and reddened member. “Don't just stand there, you dolt! Deliver your message!”
“One of the Greek's group has requested to talk with you, sire.”
“Bring him here.” Bullpole winced, carefully putting his penis under his loose robe. “And be certain that nobody sees him enter this chamber.”
Soon, the guard returned – escorting the aged seer whose magical chemistry had assured his stern master the degree of success he had attained in the orgiastic contest.
Bullpole waved all the others out of the room, turning to the bearded, serene-faced sage as soon as they were alone. “You and your family's safety is assured, thanks to your willingness to warn me of that conniving bastard's trick. A ship is now on the way to Athens. Your relatives will be taken aboard it, a counterfeit pass with the Greek's own seal on it guaranteeing them safe conduct to the ship. So you need have no worry about your loved ones, old man.”
“I thank you, sire.” The ancient magician's voice quavered with gratitude and relief.
“No thanks are necessary. It was part of our… ah… agreement, and you will find that I always keep my end of any bargain I choose to make. Your idea about sheathing my member worked nicely. And you shall be further rewarded for that.”
“Yes, sire.” The old greybeard bowed respectfully.
“I shall require you to endanger only your own life and that merely for a few more days by continuing to masquerade as the Greek's trusted sorcerer, collecting whatever knowledge of his plans that you and your nameless underlings can obtain – and putting that information at my disposal.”
“It shall be done, sire.”
“Needless to say, when I have entirely finished with that deceitful son of a goat and have acquired his palatial holdings in Athens, you and your underlings will join me openly as my privileged employees and enjoy many rewarding advantages that you have not possessed while serving the Greek.”
“You will be kept advised of every detail, each aspect of any plans the man may concoct, sire. All my helpers are as equally dedicated to serving you as am I – and as I've proven my willingness to share knowledge with you at the possible cost of my life.” A faint smile twisted the thin old lips. “After all, sire, you might've consulted the man on the basis of your long friendship with him.”
Bullpole yawned. “You were in no danger at any time, old stick. I have never credited friendship with that much worth in my whole life.”
The sage's smile became more wry.
“You're very practical, sire,” he murmured with a respectful tone. “Very realistic indeed, sire.”
“Survival requires it.” Bullpole gestured airily. “Go now and keep your old eyes and ears open for me. You will never regret loyalty to me.”
“I'm sure I won't, sire.”
Bowing as he backed humbly out of the room, the ancient magician departed – and I departed with him, boarding his elderly carcass in my determination to stay abreast of developments relating to this lively intrigue taking place so shrewdly, so deceptively between Bullpole and the Greek.
Clinging to him, I found myself within the Greek's apartments a few moments later.
Lolling comfortably on a couch, munching upon fruit, the Greek studied the powerfully built young man standing before him. Ignacio waited with an expression of blended nervousness and hope etched upon his handsome face.
“I'm given to understand that you have been with Bullpole ever since you were little more than a mere boy – some nine years now,” mused the Greek aloud.
“Th-that's correct, my lord.” Ignacio's voice quavered with uncertainty.
“And you no longer regard him with… ah… the same degree of trust and admiration that once symbolized your indebtedness to him?”
“True, your lord.” Ignacio's face darkened with remembered pain and humiliation. “He punished me most cruelly for a trifling error. I'll not ever forget that.”
The Greek popped a grape into his bearded mouth. “Would you like to join my little entourage, lad? Think carefully now. Once committed, you must be content to serve me for the rest of my life – and my punishments for disloyalty make Bullpole's seem like the fumblings of an amateur by comparison. So I advise you to ponder the matter before deciding your choice. I'm a just master.”
Ignacio nodded grimly. “I've heard you are, and I'd prefer to serve you, sire.”
“Done, then!”
“M-my gratitude, my lord.”
Suddenly, a lovely woman swept into the room with bold confidence, stopping as she saw Ignacio. A sensual smile lifted her wide-lipped mouth and her gray, exotic-ally tilted eyes went over his tall, muscular body with excited flickerings.