I’ve been so busy that I hadn’t realised just how long it is since I did a Sample Sunday posting. May 13th seems like a great date to kick off again, so here we go with something from The Hun and The General. Mud seems a pretty appropriate subject, at least here in the UK!
The Hun and The General – History with a Twist
Published By: Etopia Press
Published: Dec 02, 2011
ISBN # 9781936751914
Livianus fell back into the mud with a huge squelch. Attila stood astride him, like a grinning colossus, his muscles caked in brown sludge. “Come on, Livianus. You’re supposed to beat me. I didn’t bring you here to dominate you. Fight, man.”
“But why the mud? What was wrong with the ground?” Attila’s mud pit had been yet another surprise addition since Livianus’s last visit. A huge hollow surrounded by a tall, wooden fence, set some distance outside the main palisade.
“It’s good for you. And I like the feel of it on my skin. I like the way it makes combat harder—it’s more difficult to grip your opponent. Things slip and slide.”
Slipping into a clean bath and sliding into bed were the only things that Livianus wanted right at that moment. He tried to get up but his feet and hands slewed in different directions, and he collapsed onto his back.
Attila roared with laughter. “Here,” he said, reaching down, “I’ll pull you up.”
Livianus took Attila’s hand and felt the mud peel from his back as he rose to his feet. He steadied himself as Attila released his grip. Seizing the moment, Livianus swung his right leg behind Attila’s knee, and the Hun toppled to the ground, falling on his side. Livianus threw himself at Attila’s bulk and rolled him over onto his stomach, swiftly mounting him like a child riding on its father’s back. “What did you say about domination?”
Attila’s face was in the mud but his laughter rang out. “Finally, some spirit.”
Livianus wrenched Attila’s arms behind his back and held him by the wrists. He leaned back, raised his face to the sky and breathed deeply. “And now what? What shall the victor do to his captive?” He didn’t need to look down to know his cock had found new life. He felt the tingling in his groin and the hungriness of the swollen head. He moved his hips back and forth to slide the shaft against the slipperiness of Attila’s back.
“It’s a waste to do that,” said Attila. “I can think of a better place for it.”
“You want more?”
“Impale me.”
Livianus kept hold of Attila’s wrists, pulling tight as he shuffled down the Hun’s body until his cock slotted into the crease between Attila’s buttocks. The slot was slick with mud. He pushed, but his cock missed the target and sprang up into the air.
“Call yourself a marksman.” Attila chuckled.
Livianus grasped Attila’s wrists with one hand, using the other to guide his cock home. He thrust his hips forward, and his cock pried Attila open. He pressed as hard as he could, going in to the hilt with one movement. This time Attila groaned, and Livianus felt the Hun trying to writhe beneath him. The anal muscles tightened as if to cut off Livianus’s cock, and a wave of pleasure washed over him. He drove his cock deep, then withdrew almost completely before sliding in again, over and over. With each thrust his balls pulled tighter, and the pressure mounted at the root of his cock. As his breathing became faster and deeper, his head swam as if in some drug-induced trance.
The twittering wives came nowhere close to this. No one had ever given so much pleasure to Livianus. As his cock thickened, he looked down on the warrior king. There he was, the feared ogre, submissive as a puppy, face in the mud, hands behind his back. Livianus came instantly, his body shuddering as he pumped his seed into Attila. The orgasm sapped all his strength, and he let go his grip on Attila. Immediately, Attila snatched his hands back, put them to the ground and raised himself up. Livianus slipped off him, and in a flash Attila was on his feet, pointing his mud-caked cock at Livianus’s face. Attila gripped his shaft in one hand and pulled Livianus’s head forward with the other. Livianus knew what he had to do and opened his mouth wide. The coating of earth dissolved in his saliva, and he spat before continuing. Attila grunted, and his salty seed sprayed Livianus’s mouth. As Attila thrust forward, a fountain of pleasure, Livianus pictured the Hun with his mane of straggly hair and beard, a memory of the lion head fountains back at the villa in Gaul.
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