When in Rome

I was no match for Victor, and I didn’t stay on my feet very long. He had me down and we were wrestling vigorously, our arms and legs entwined and our chests heaving mightily. He was straddling my back when I noticed he had gotten very hard and was rubbing his cock up and down the small of my back. I managed to get turned over, so that he knew that I was turned on too. We were all over each other, trying to make it look like a simple wrestling match, but we had reached the point where we were doing the best we could to keep our engorged cocks grinding together through the skimpy material of the loincloths.

Victor was whispering in my ear that I was one hot young stud, and I rejoiced in this. He wanted me. But he couldn’t want me as much as I wanted him. I was sure of that. I had known it since we were cast for what we were doing.