Mediterrenean Desire

They tossed her around among them. "Who wants the little slave girl," they shouted. As they toyed with her, ripping her robes and pulling her hair. One of the cruel Roman soldiers struck her on the cheek with a closed hand, bringing blood from her dark Mediterranean skin.

The five soldiers groped her, and she began to cry to them for mercy. Her cries echoed through the dark woods where they had brought her to play their cruel game, and to have their sick fun.

He heard them from the darkness of the trees, and as he approached he saw the outlines of the soldiers and the young slave woman in the shimmering moonlight. He came down upon the soldiers with the fury of the wolf. His sword flashed in the light of the pale, heavenly orb. Their blood reached the ground before a scream could even pass their lips, and in an instant he stood alone with the young woman and the bodies of the men littered at his feet.

He too was a soldier, but he was moved by compassion for the beautiful slave, he could not help himself for he had seen her many times walking through the city, and he remembered her eyes more than anything else, eyes of blue fire lighting up the skies. That, he thought, was true beauty.

He went to her and she met his embrace. He held her in the moonlight. Her tattered robe, all but fallen off, gave way, and she stood naked in the shimmer. He ripped off a piece of his robe, and cleaned the tiny cut on her cheek. She kissed his hand as he tended to her wound, the softness of her tongue glided along his palm, and he bent down and kissed her.

She led him deeper into the woods, to a clearing where the ground was covered with sweet clover, and the upper tree limbs caught the light of the moon, giving them the privacy of the darkness.

They stopped in the middle of the clearing, and she began to walk slowly around him, taking off each piece of his armor and then disrobing him completely until they both stood naked in the shadows of the trees. She laid his robe down upon the clover, and beckoned him to join her in their bed of sweetness. He lay down beside her, and they kissed. He could still taste the remnants of her supper, pomegranate juice. It tasted sweet upon his tongue, and she pressed her body firmly against his.

With his hands he discovered her in the darkness. His fingers traced her outline, gently feeling the smoothness of her bare skin. He touched her breasts. Her nipples hardened to his touch, and he let his hand linger there for a moment before his fingers crawled there way down to her womanhood.

He slipped his two longest fingers inside her, feeling the warm wetness that ran there. She moaned softly, turning her hips out so that he had more direct access to her. He massaged her clit, stroking it firmly and letting the friction of his movements increase the heat of her body. Her groans grew longer and louder. Her hips began to rock against the movements of his hand, driving his fingers deeper and deeper into her until her body convulsed in orgasmic chaos.

She kissed him again and pulled her hips away so that his fingers would slide out. He placed those two fingers into his mouth to taste the warm sweetness of her insides. She rolled him over onto his back and straddled him, letting his throbbing cock fall into the well of her juices.

They made love in the darkness, with only the shadows to watch over them. Their moans were lifted up into the rising wind and carried away to fall upon the ears of the gods themselves.

He pulled out of her just before he came, letting the warm flow of his semen squirt upon her quivering thighs, but she didn't care; she let herself fall down upon his chest and they slept there together; there in the quiet places of the earth where the only witness was a solitary night owl watching from the trees in the deepness of the Mediterranean night.