Date: Mon, 22 Sep 2008 22:58:51 +0000
From: bradley stoke <bradley_stoke@hotmail.com>
Subject: "The Philosopher's Tool" by Bradley Stoke

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 down the penis in long
confident strokes.

Chitineus looked towards the fellow carrying the amphora
but all that could be seen of him was his arched back and
tight buttocks as he arranged the goods on the deck of the
ship. He chose to evade the question. "Why they all do,"
he said. "It is a splendid sight indeed to see the workman
at his toil..."

"...Just as it is to fuck him at his play," laughed
Phoenictetes. He clasped his friend's penis firmly. "And
this is also a splendid sight. It would be a shame for you to
waste the juice of your endeavour on the bare stone upon
which we walk." He grabbed his friend around the waist.
"Let us disrobe and fuck. And then afterwards we may
contemplate the beauty of labour without the distraction of
our lust."

"Well said, my dear Phoenictetes," laughed Chitineus. He
pulled off his chiton and handed it his slave,
Dunderopolos, and stood in the street naked but for his
sandals. The philosopher was a handsome man in his
prime, with just a few hairs turned grey and a body kept
lithe and fit from frequent sex with his slaves and peers.
"Against the pillar, my friend, and I shall release the seeds
of my desire inside you."

"There is no better place!" agreed Phoenictetes who
handed his clothes to his own slave, Psymnopides, and
leaned forward against the pillar, his arse proffered ready
for the pleasure of penetration.

Of course, when two noblemen, especially scholars,
should wish to fuck each other, their slaves are as
important as anyone else. Dunderopolos helped part
Phoenictetes' anus with Psymnopides' assistance and with
his spit lubricated his master's penis so that the ingress
would be the more pleasurable for both partners. And
during Chitineus' thrusts, he attended to his master's
satisfaction by licking and stroking his hard testicles. It
was clear that he enjoyed his labours, as his penis was as
stiff and proud as Phoenictetes', although nowhere near as
heroic or vigorous as his master's. However,
Dunderopolos' phallus was not assisted by any other hand
in coming to a spasm of ejaculation, as Psymnopides was
engaged in sucking his master's penis while Chitineus
thrust steadily and rhythmically into him.

Relief came suddenly for everyone except for Chitineus.
His penis was still rampant when everyone else had
ejaculated and Phoenictetes' anus did not drip the pearls of
semen that would announce that Chitineus had completely
sated his amorous intent. However, so as not to embarrass
his master, Dunderopolos smeared his own spilt semen on
Phoenictetes' buttocks so that those watching would
believe that they had witnessed a proper consummation.

The two philosophers then walked towards Chitineus' villa
arm-in-arm and naked discussing the issues of ethics and
foreign policy that troubled them, Chitineus' still erect
penis leading the way.

The philosopher tried to ignore the issue of his persistent
tumescence, through which it was painful to piss and
which only subsided in degree, not in totality. But try as he
would, it was an unwanted distraction from his thoughts. It
was difficult to follow the tortuous paths of logical
discourse with Phoenictetes and young Grinopheles, who
also chose to visit that day. His manhood intervened in his
need to conclude his argument with a Quod Eratum
Demonstrandum or a Reductio Ad Absurdum, which
discussions continued unresolved over good olives and
wine. And when he and his philosopher friends took each
other physically, Grinopheles' penis inside his anus while
he once again penetrated that of Phoenictetes, his exertions
again failed to resolve themselves as they should in a
satisfactory discharge of semen.

Indeed, even after fucking his favourite Galatian boy-
slave, Phridistotlos, until his anus was bleeding, there was
no release. Dunderopolos had to admit to his master that
there was no viscous cream between the boy's cheeks. And
this had before been the most reliable source of
gratification for Chitineus who had a penchant for young
flesh.

However, as he was able to continue fucking his friends
and slaves after all other penises were spent, Chitineus was
not sure whether his persistently erect phallus was a
blessing or a curse. After fucking Grinopheles who was in
turn plying at Phridistotlos' tight anus, he decided that now
was the time to retire. The slaves helped him towards his
bed, where tonight he chose to rest with one of the kitchen
boys, Coutleros, whose arse he'd not fucked for several
days. He bade farewell to Grinopheles and Phoenictetes,
who were too fatigued to make their way to their own
homes and chose instead to accept the older philosopher's
invitation that they should sleep in his home and to have
the pick of any of his slaves should they feel inclined for
further carnal pleasure.

Chitineus hoped that when he awoke the following day his
penis would have at last deflated. However, he suspected
otherwise after his failure from an hour or more of
battering at Coutleros' anus for it to subside before sleep
finally overwhelmed him. His penis remained stubbornly
tumid and only blood and excrement trickled from his
slave's embattled arse. It was not his wish to bring harm to
his slaves, whom he treated well, much better than the
average citizen of wealth, so he compensated loyal
Coutleros with a day off, but he himself was to have no
respite from the obstinately persistent erection.

Despite the bravest attempts from his friends, Phoenictetes
and Grinopheles, who tried to bring Chitineus to
ejaculation with the assistance of Dunderopolos, there was
no end to the philosopher's dilemma: one which seemed
the more urgent after the pain he suffered in loosing the
urine that had built up inside him. It was worse even than
the agony of having two men fuck him simultaneously, but
that was a pain brought upon him to satisfy his desire not
in the expression of it. Besides, so inured to penetration
was his anus now it took more than two penises to cause
him any lasting pain.

"What can we do?" wondered a frustrated Grinopheles,
whose penis was now so worn out from his efforts that not
even Cupid could have aroused him from his torpid
indolence.

"We must seek advice from an oracle or a soothsayer,"
suggested an almost equally exhausted Phoenictetes, who
tugged desultorily at his flaccid cock and enviously
admired Chitineus' unquenchable manhood.

"I would suggest rather a physician," said the philosopher.
"This is a matter of physic and the physician is the best
qualified for such matters. As you would consult a
goatherd on the herding of goats, a merchant on the
purchase of goods and a philosopher on mathematics and
ethics, so a physician is the man who has the tools
appropriate for physical affliction..."

"But might this not be a gift from the gods rather than an
affliction of the flesh?" remarked Grinopheles, who at this
moment would dearly like to have such an ailment now
that he could see Chitineus' boy-slave Phridistotlos
hovering in the background, naked as all slaves were in the
private quarters, and walking with some awkwardness
after the previous day's ministrations.

"A gift this might be," said Chitineus sternly, "to those
whose desire is merely to have carnal pleasure and whose
destiny is to fuck as many people and as often as they can.
Alas! I am not such a person. The tool I wish to refine is
my mind and its mental acuity. It is a matter of little value
to a philosopher to be able to bring sexual ecstasy to
whomsoever he should wish to fuck, when what he most
needs is to consider the ways of the world and the
machinations of the divine. Thus I am truly afflicted and
relief for me would be for my erection to subside so that
once again I am no longer constantly distracted by the urge
to fuck every man's arse and to have a man's hand clutch at
my throbbing member."

"In that case, we should see Diderostocres," suggested
Phoenictetes. "He has soft hands and a sceptical approach
to the healing arts. He never chooses a course of medic
until he is sure it is the right one. Furthermore, he has a
very accommodating arse."

The three philosophers followed Phoenictetes' suggestion
and walked together through the city streets dressed
smartly in their chiton and himation to the physician's
hovel on the outskirts of the town. Diderostocres was not a
wealthy man. His parents had been slaves and he had
gained his skill only through great study and dedication
over the years, whilst also earning a living as a butcher,
with which occupation he shared many of the same tools
of the trade. The trudge to this part of the town took the
philosophers past beggars and vagrants, many of whom
offered their arses to the noblemen in the hope of a silver
coin in payment for their services. However, no gentleman
of means would ever be so desperate for manly flesh when
there were so many willing slaves at their disposal.

The physician clasped Chitineus' erect penis and took its
shining purple glans into his mouth. He ran his tongue
over its tip and his hands up and down its length. As he
continued his ministrations, he graduated towards taking
as much of the penis as he could in his mouth and pushing
it to the back of his throat, whilst at the same time
lubricating it with saliva that streamed down the length of
the shaft. The spittle trailed between the physician's hands
and mouth and formed a lattice on Chitineus' proud thicket
of pubic hair. Occasionally, the physician would pull the
penis out of his mouth and chew gently on the
philosopher's testicles whilst vigorously pumping the penis
with his hands.

While Diderostocres continued to give succour,
Phoenictetes and Grinopheles sat on two chairs that had
been politely vacated by two patients of lesser status who
had politely departed when the philosophers arrived. One
of these had been a man who had been bleeding profusely
from a wound inflicted by a bronze axe-head and had left a
puddle of blood on the floor. The two men felt
uncomfortable in the small hovel, surrounded by the
hanging carcasses of field-fowl and hare, while their slaves
sat outside in the muddy unpaved track in the company of
swine and domestic hens. Very rarely did a man of letters
and learning ever need to walk down roads such as these
that stank of sewerage and where most men wore no
clothes, not from pride in their masculinity but to spare
their vestments unnecessary wear and tear.

At last, the physician had to admit defeat. He held
Chitineus' penis in his hand, the trail of saliva falling like a
damaged spider web between his arm and the length of
stubborn virility, and smiled weakly at the philosophers.

"I have done what I can short of surgery," the physician
told his venerable company. "And it has all been to no
avail. There are few better men than I at the skill of
bringing a man to ejaculate. I have been known to bring
three men off simultaneously with my hands and mouth
whilst fucking a fourth. There are many in the city that can
vouch for my skill in this matter, either as patients or
witnesses. But I confess that in this case I have been
defeated."

"It is no matter," said Chitineus, handing the physician a
splendid silver decadrachm. "You have done well, but
unfortunately my affliction is too great for even your
tonsils to alleviate."

Whatever Chitineus' affliction was called nobody knew.
The physician had no name for it, nor did any of the other
experts the philosophers consulted on this and the
following days in their attempts to bring an end to a curse
that many might initially think was a blessing. And that
was perpetual tumescence on an already well-endowed
man. A superabundance of masculinity when abundance
alone would have been quite enough.

Chitineus was persuaded to see oracles, soothsayers,
mystics, leeches, priests and other physicians and although
each consultant addressed his affliction with different
words and different descriptions, there was a remarkable
congruence in how they treated it. Chitineus' penis had
never before been so sucked, licked, pummelled,
massaged, beaten, flailed, chewed or manhandled. Saliva
dripped from it. The skin was red and raw. The glans
shone but weakly after so much tongue and throat had
been applied to it.

In between these therapies, Chitineus sought relief in the
arses of his fellow philosophers, his slaves and his friends.
In all this, although he was exhausted?perspiration
blinding his eyes and pouring off his nostrils onto
whoever's back or chest was beneath him?his penis
remained forever steadfast, ready for more and thoroughly
insatiable. And, as his misery persevered from one day to
the next and all remedies tried, the advice given him
became more and more outlandish and bizarre.

"Perhaps you should have chosen to father a child,"
remarked a priest whose beard tangled in Chitineus' pubic
hair as he sucked and gobbled at the stubborn tumescence.

Chitineus shuddered. "That is a supplication too far," he
remarked and pointedly paid the priest only the minimum
agreed fee. Philosophers were born for higher things than
to pollute their bodies by the too-close proximity of a
lesser kind. Only in the company of other men could one
hope to aspire to pure thought and contemplation.

The philosopher tried remedies to his predicament that did
not involve his penis being used for sexual gratification
based on the evidence that since sex did not appear to
lessen his penis' vigour then other activities might do so.
He dipped his penis in the cold water of a running stream.
He ran naked through the open plains. He swam across
rivers. He sat to his waist in olives and fish-heads. But his
penis remained as it always was: ready and poised for
action and more than capable of taking any man's arse.

"This is ridiculous!" complained the philosopher. "I can
get no work done. My studies on geometry, aesthetics,
politics and metaphysics have come not one whit further
forward."

"Perhaps someone has cursed you!" remarked one of his
friends, who was not a philosopher but retained many
superstitious beliefs.

"Even those who believe that to be true had only one
remedy for my predicament," Chitineus said. "And that is
the same as those who did not believe in demonic
possession. Whatever has taken control of my penis has
not told anyone how it should be dispossessed."

Chitineus was almost resigned to a lifetime of unwanted
tumidity when he happened to pass by the harbour again,
arm-in-arm with Phoenictetes.

"Wasn't it here that I was first struck down by this bane?"
he remarked to his friend.

"Indeed, I do believe it was," said Phoenictetes.

Chitineus looked about him at the seaman on the ships and
the hands on the dock carrying baskets of olives, sacks of
wine, nets of fish, and exotic furs. He had endured so
much carnal attention from his friends, slaves and
consultants that even the bronzed lithe muscular frames of
the naked men made him feel weary, but not so much that
it lessened the erection he sported under his chiton and
which was plainly visible from the tented hood that
protruded ahead of him. In fact, the more he contemplated
the landscape, rather than lose its vigour it began to jerk
with new excitement.

"I have a thought," he said to his friend, parting his clothes
to let his penis swing free in the warm air. "When I
became so fatally aroused on that day, it was at the sight of
a dock labourer of most proud proportion. He was truly an
Adonis. He aroused my penis with a liveliness that hasn't
deserted me. Perhaps this man by being the proximate
cause of my dilemma might also be the means to its end."

"A mere labourer!" gasped a scandalised Phoenictetes.
"When the best physicians, medics and mystics have
foundered? When your equals in learning and culture have
failed? This does not make sense."

"I am a desperate man," said Chitineus, taking
Phoenictetes' hand and placing it on his erect member, so
that he could feel the twitching of fresh blood along its
engorged veins. "And such is my desperation that I shall
resort to desperate measures."

It was a matter of many hours investigation conducted by
Chitineus' slave, Dunderopolos, which led at last to the
worker who had first aroused the philosopher. His name
was Chorazineus, a fellow whose family had been many
generations in the city of his birth. Close to, he was an
even more splendid fellow than he seemed from the
distance, and not just because he bore such a large penis,
which although flaccid promised to gain at least the same
dimensions as the philosopher's when fully aroused. His
face had a truly noble aspect not at all in keeping with his
lowly birth. His jaw was square, his eyes penetrating, his
forehead high and his nose straight. He was undoubtedly
the chosen model for many a sculpture.

"So, what is it that I should do?" Chorazineus asked when
presented to the philosopher and stared directly at the erect
proof of masculinity that was so proudly displayed.

"I don't know," Chitineus admitted. "My penis has been
fellated as none has ever been fellated before. I have
fucked the arse of every nobleman and slave in this town
who will have me. I have consulted with all but demons
and witches."

"Then, the only thing I can suggest is a length of cock up
your arse that is longer than any cock you've ever had the
pleasure of accommodating there before," said
Chorazineus roughly, grasping the philosopher's penis with
one hand and stroking his own huge member to life with
his other hand. "I have fucked many a man and boy, from
here to the furthest reaches of the Hellenic world, and no
one has yet been unsatisfied. My spunk has dripped over
the eyes and mouth of scholars, kings and tyrants. I have
impaled arses of every colour and consistency. It is a bad
day when there are not three or more souls who have
known my prick inside them."

"And where will you fuck me?" Chitineus asked, looking
around him at the uneven ground and most of all at
Chorazineus' penis which, true to his word, was now as
long and erect as the philosopher's own.

"Here," he said. "And now."

And with that, he grabbed the philosopher and pressed his
stubbled cheeks against the philosopher's more carefully
sculpted beard so their tongues crashed together whilst not
relinquishing at all his grip on Chitineus' penis.

In all the philosopher's years of love-making he had not yet
been fucked with such roughness and such tenderness in
equal measure as he was now. Never before had his arse
entertained a penis that pushed so deep inside him?way
beyond all previous limits of penetration. His penis was
gripped firmly by the dock hand and there was no
intercession from any of his servants. His skin became so
moist from perspiration and effort that there was no need
to lubricate his penis or anus with spittle to facilitate a
painless penetration. And Chorazineus was relentless and
tireless in his thrusting that endured far beyond the normal
span of manly intercourse into a new realm of love-making
that Chitineus had never before imagined. Even he, with
his permanent erection, had not managed to prolong his
love-making so much without abandoning it through
fatigue or, in former days, by a welcome release of semen.

To Phoenictetes and the others who watched with
fascination, this was a new kind of fucking where a
swarthy man of the earth sported his manhood to such an
extent that he unmanned them all. Phoenictetes considered
himself a man who knew how to fuck and was proud of his
expertise in bringing pleasure to the most effete youth, the
coarsest oaf and the most cultured sophisticate. But this
man was a fucker of rare skill, a lover who was playing
with Chitineus as a musician might a lyre.

The other hands and sailors had seen all this before. Most
of them had already had the pleasure of sex with
Chorazineus, separately or together, and knew what he
could do. Several of them openly masturbated as the
lovemaking continued and sprayed their semen, as was
traditional amongst superstitious sailors, on their boats,
believing that a coating of sperm would bring them good
luck. And so it was that every now and then, another sailor
would disengage from the crowd clutching an erect penis
twitching with the spasms of ecstasy and then stand by the
waterside, sometimes actually in the water, and splatter the
sides of the ship or boat in which they would next set sail.

When Chorazineus finally ejaculated, which he did with
vim and vocal passion, a seemingly endless volume of
semen spurted forth from his penis and sprayed on
Chitineus' chest, face and arse. It was a miracle, of course.
But the true miracle was not Chorazineus' prodigious
virility, but rather the almost simultaneous release of
semen from Chitineus' penis that spurted in almost the
same volume, uncontrollably and everywhere. An arc of it
rose into the air and fell neatly onto Phoenictetes' cheek.

As he wiped the semen off his face with his fingers and
relished the familiar taste in his mouth, he could see that
the medicine dispensed by this uncommon commoner had
been an unqualified success. Where before a huge
protuberance had stood out from Chitineus' groin, there
was now a smaller nutmeg of a thing: still larger than most
men's but now more modest and less of a hindrance to the
free flow of urine.

And this, of course, was what next followed from
Chitineus' organ, which he directed at the water, careful
not to splash the boats, as this would surely undo the good
of pasting them with semen, of which pale streaks could
still be seen.

"And what does this prove, my dear Chitineus," asked
Phoenictetes of his philosopher friend.

Chitineus gasped and coughed, still bathed in his own
perspiration and wearier than he would have been had he
ran from Marathon to Athens. "What did you say?" he
asked.

"What theory has this exercise demonstrated?"
Phoenictetes asked. "What lessons can be drawn?"

"Lessons?" wondered the philosopher, who didn't look like
he was in an especially contemplative state.

"Have you drawn conclusions relating to the tools of one's
trade? Have you divined insights into the need to release
one's carnal desires? Have you arrived at any profound
theories from which we can all learn?"

"I really don't know," said Chitineus, rubbing his face with
his hands and puffing with fatigue. "The only thing I can
think of is that if you want to fuck someone, whoever that
man might be, then do whatever possible to fuck him and
don't fuck somebody else."