Supes' Vacation VI

[aurelius]

Supes' Vacation VI

 

 

 

We’re lying around the pool on a lazy summer afternoon.  Bruce and I enjoy watching Dick and Carlos as they spin and twist, diving off the high dive on their way into the water—and each dive seems worthy of an Olympic medal.

 

“Did you ever talk with Dick about the Olympics—either for gymnastics or diving?”

 

“Yes, when he was young, we talked about gymnastics; and when he was older we talked about diving.  Each time he made the decision—the publicity would have meant even more reporters hanging around Wayne Manor.  Dick was afraid our relationship would be called child abuse.  And besides, he didn’t want to endanger Batman and Robin.”

 

“Makes sense,” I say, as Dick makes another perfect dive.  I applaud and say, “Well done, young stud!”  A big smile brightens Dick’s very wet face as he climbs out of the pool.

 

And Carlos’ dive is just as good, so I repeat my “Well done, young stud!“ for him.  Soon both young studs are standing over us, dripping on us and shaking their perfect bodies so that Bruce and I get all wet.  Not that we mind.

 

They plop down on the grass, towels around their shoulders—towels that soon have two fine young studs lying on them, looking at us.

 

“Clark, have you ever let go?”  Carlos asks me.

 

“What does ‘let go’ mean?  Gone crazy?  Eaten a ton of food?  Fucked Bruce until he died?”

 

“Well, not until he died—I wouldn’t want that, but otherwise, yeah, let go sexually.”

 

I look at Bruce, “No, I don’t think so.”

 

“What about Thor?”  Bruce says.

 

“But you said I was drugged—so does that count?”

 

“Yeah, you were drugged, so maybe it doesn’t count.  But you felt guilty afterwards and so you gave him your ass.”

 

“That’s right, I did!”  And I can’t resist kissing old stone-face.  “I remember feeling very horny and fucking Thor very hard, and only afterwards I felt bad because I hadn’t kept myself under control.”

 

“That’s right,” says Bruce, and he kisses me.  I like this game!

 

“And I gave my ass to Thor—but he wasn’t that good of a fuck—pretty pedestrian.  You were better!”  I reach over to Carlos and put my hand on his meaty thigh.

 

“But there’s something wrong with what you ask,” I say.  “When I fuck someone, I want to give them pleasure, so I think about what I’m doing.”

 

“You sort of have to,” says Bruce.

 

“Yeah, I do.”  I look at Carlos and say, “You remember what I said about grabbing my balls when you suck my cock?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, I have to control my thrusts in someone’s ass too.  I don’t want to kill the big guy—or anyone!”

 

Bruce turns to Carlos and Dick: “It’s a good thing that my love is a Boy Scout!”  And I get another kiss!

 

“But I think what Carlos is asking,” Dick says, “is if you’ve ever really fucked someone—just let go and rammed your cock up their ass.”

 

“No,” I say.  “Why would I do that?  Do you want me to kill them?”  Dick and Carlos look at each other.  Carlos says, “I think that’s too bad.  I’ve wailed on Dick’s ass—and he’s done the same to me.  And we know that it’s because we love each other.”

 

“And Clark has sort of ‘wailed’ on my ass—but he doesn’t ‘let go’; otherwise, I’d be a pile of steaks.”

 

“And Bruce has ‘wailed’ on my ass, and it feels pretty good.”

 

“But don’t you think you deserve to wail on someone’s ass—to let go and feel good?”  Carlos doesn’t let things go.

 

“No,” I say, “I don’t deserve to kill someone when I fuck them.  That’s not what fucking is for.”

 

“Look,” says Bruce, and his brow actually does darken sometimes when he gets serious.  “This man”—and he puts his big mitt on my shoulder—“can kill any of us with a punch, a glare, and I suspect, even with a big wind.”  He looks at me and says, “Have you ever used your big wind so hard that someone flew up and died?”

 

“No, I don’t think so,” I say.

 

“And,” Bruce continues, “I love the fact that he likes people and doesn’t want to kill them unless they’re really really bad people.”  I get a squeeze on my shoulder.  “I suspect I’ve killed more bad guys than he has.”  He looks at me with suddenly soft eyes.  “And I love the fact that he controls himself so much—especially when he fucks me.”

 

“Aw, big guy!”  And I can’t resist hugging Bruce and giving him a kiss.

 

And then I reach over to both of the boys and pull them close—they don’t resist at all—and give them a hug.  “And I think I understand what you’re saying, and I love you for it.  But for me, ‘letting go’ probably means killing someone—and I’d drown in guilt and probably wouldn’t fuck anyone for months—maybe a year.”

 

“Yeah,” Bruce says, “And that would mean more work for me: getting my Boy Scout to love himself again—so that he could love me!”  And Bruce gets this cute, sexy grin on his face—and I have to kiss him again.

 

“My love is right—you don’t want to see me when I’m guilty.  Dark clouds for days—and I don’t talk to anyone—not even Bruce.”

 

“Which is why, when you said you wanted Thor to fuck you, I was all for it—a simple way to make a little guilt go away.”

 

Carlos cups his hand around Dick’s ear and whispers.  Dick does the same to Carlos.  And they do this whispering twice more.  Then they both look at us with shit-eating grins.

 

“What evil plot have you guys hatched?” Bruce says with a grin.

 

Dick smiles and nudges Carlos, who also smiles and then says, “We think you should go back in time and fuck Goliath—and really let yourself go.  He was what?  Something like nine feet tall, so he’ll think you’re a little guy and his hole is probably big—so you could wail on his ass for days and you wouldn’t kill him!”

 

“Yeah, you can still let David do that!” Dick says with a smirk.

 

But Bruce isn’t happy:  “Not another historical adventure—and you guys came up with it!”  He face-palms.

 

“Well,” I say, “I’m not all that convinced that I need to go back in time just to fuck someone with abandon.  Besides, I don’t know Hebrew nor whatever the Philistines spoke.  I’d be lost.  And I’ll bet that neither the Philistines nor the Hebrews had boys as beautiful as the Greeks!”

 

“But you found a Greek in Ancient Egypt!” Carlos says—again, he doesn’t let go. “You could probably find a Greek guy in whatever part of Philistina Goliath lived in!”

 

Bruce and I talk by ourselves.  I don’t want to go, but—surprise!—he thinks it might be good to silence Carlos and Dick.  And he comes up with an excuse for the Planet:  I get sick, fall and twist my ankle—so I’ll be out a week.  So now I have all three of them urging me to go.  I don’t like the idea of going to see if I could “wail” on Goliath’s ass—Bruce may be the noble one, but I’ve always gone back in time for what I considered good reasons.  This seemed less than noble.

 

“But, who knows?” Bruce said, “You may find an adventure which you like!”

 

 

2

 

I go back to Greece, around 1000 BC—the “Dark Ages” in Greece.  All I know is that the sunny days of Hercules are over.  I go to Attica, to Pireaus, Athens’ port, to see if I can hire on a Greek ship bound for Philistia.

 

I land between Athens and Pireaus; whirl out of my uniform and into my loincloth and sandals (Egyptian sandals), hide my uniform under a big boulder by a hillside, and walk down to the harbor.

 

When I was in Greece to see Herc, Athens was a bustling place, and ships filled the harbor at Pireaus.  There are fewer ships now—Athens doesn’t look all that prosperous; it looks like people are barely hanging on.  But there are still a few ships going to Crete, Cyprus, and Egypt.  I get a job on a ship to Cyprus, since it gets me closer to Philistia.  I pull the anchor up and man the oars—my muscles get me the job.

 

It’s a three day trip to Cyprus.  At the start, I man an oar on my own.  Then the captain brings out a wooden collar that joins two oars together—so I row two oars, while most oars have two men on them.  I don’t mind.  I get a few breaks.  When I’m on deck with the captain, he says, “It’s sad there are so few ships on the sea.  I’ve heard stories of the route to Cyprus being full of ships, every day.  But those days are gone.”  Only then do I understand the “Dark Ages.”

 

I leave that ship and walk the harbor, looking for a ship to Philistia.  Everyone speaks Greek.  But I also run into another Hellene who wants to go to Philistia—Dion.   He wants to go back to see a girl.  I tell him I want to see a guy—and it doesn’t bother him at all.

 

On board this ship I man the oars again—and again the captain brings out a collar that joins two oars together, so I’m once again rowing two oars while most oars have two men on them.  It’s a two day trip.  We sail over open water until we see the coast, and then we sail due south, hugging the coast until we get to Ashkleon.  Before I walk on shore, the captain pulls me aside and says, 

 

“These people aren’t like us Greeks.  They don’t think the human body is beautiful.  Your body is indeed beautiful—and it’s been a pleasure watching you man the oars!”—I can’t help but smile.  “But you should wear a tunic over your loincloth,” and he hands me a big brown tunic to cover my pile of muscles.  I thank the captain and put it on.  He sighs.  “It’s a shame you have to do this—you should never have to cover up your body!—but it’s best if you do.”  Then he gives me a kiss on my cheek and wishes me good luck.

 

Dion already has a tunic.  As we walk down the gangplank into Ashkelon harbor, he says pretty much what the captain said.  And as we look around, I see that all the sailors and harbor workers have tunics on—sweaty, messy tunics.  And some of the guys have pretty good muscle in their arms, so it’s a shame they have to keep their bodies covered.

 

But this isn’t Greece.  It’s Philistia, part of the Levant, part of “The Holy Land” as my Mom back in Kansas would have called it.  And all of her Methodist piety comes flooding back into my head, along with those colored paintings of Jesus or David and the Israelites—and not a semi-naked body in any of the paintings.  I‘m already missing Greece with all its good-looking young men!

 

But Ashkelon is busier than Piraeus/Athens—a lot more prosperous.  Near the harbor are big, two-story buildings; their doors are wide open; men are going in and taking out jars of what I guess to be olive oil.  Another warehouse has barrels of wine—I can smell the alcohol.  And there are forges—iron forges.  Philistia is already in the Iron Age.  Groups of soldiers walking down the street carry spears with shiny iron heads.  They all have beards and long tunics with leather coverings; they look serious and a little scary.  I miss the Greek soldiers with their short tunics and muscular legs.

 

Dion takes me to a harbor tavern.  I’ve told him I wanted to get to Gath.  He says that we can probably find a merchant going to Gath at this tavern.

 

The wine is good.  There’s a band playing some strange music and some dancing girls who have no problem showing their shoulders—and some leg, through a slit in their gown.  But although there are good-looking young men sitting at the tables around the tavern, none of them show any skin beyond firm bare arms, and they all either have beards or they’re trying to grow them. 

 

When we were on board our ship, Dion told me to stop shaving.  He said he had a beard so he would fit in more with the Philistines.  So I had some stubble on my face when we landed at Ashkelon.  But it was obvious—at least to me—that I was just starting to grow a beard.  It still feels strange to me, and I often catch myself rubbing my chin.  I have the vague sense that this whole trip is taking me away from things I love and making me do things I don’t much like—like wear a tunic and grow a beard.

 

Dion gets up and wanders around the tavern while I look around at all the bearded young men—and sigh a little.  Then Dion comes back and says he’s found a merchant who’s interested in giving me a ride to Gath.

 

“I told him you had a lot of muscle.  He said he has a shaky wheel and figures he’ll need someone strong enough to pick up the cart while he works on the wheel.  Is that OK with you?  It’s not much, but it’s a free ride!”

 

I thank Dion, drink my wine and wonder if this whole trip is worth it.

 

 

3

 

Sure enough, Lotan, the merchant who gives me a ride, has a bum wheel, and it breaks not once but twice on our way to Gath.  Twice I lift up the cart full of pottery and wine—careful not to spill the wine, of course.

 

Lotan is a youngish merchant: his beard is black and he’s rather fit.  It’s obvious that he isn’t rich—yet.  But there isn’t a lot to talk about since he doesn’t know Greek and I don’t know Philistine—or whatever he speaks.

 

The road is pretty smooth, but there are always potholes, even in a fairly arid climate.  There are fields of wheat on either side of the road, and groves of olive trees back from the road, up along some hills.  The countryside looks fairly prosperous.

 

Gath is at the edge of Philisita, near Israel.  It’s a big city: big city gates with bored soldiers inspecting every cart—I’m not sure for what.   And there are a lot of people walking on the streets, with soldiers on horses every now and then.  Dion had told me that I should expect to see Hebrews as well as Philistines—and that the two peoples usually got along well.  However, Saul, the Israelite king, was something of a trouble-maker, and Dion figured that sooner or later, there would be a war between the Philistines and the Israelites.

 

Apparently all the cities in Philistia have their own soldiers; these look a little different from the ones in Ashkelon, but they still have the same strange headdress—not really a helmet but a hat with a crown of feathers.  And they have the shiny iron spearheads on their spears—and the same beards and long tunics with leather covering.  So the soldiers’ uniforms look pretty much like the ones in Ashkelon; I guess you have to be a native to see a lot of difference.

 

As at Ashkelon, when we enter Gath we see warehouses with jars of olive oil and other warehouses with barrels of wine.  And more forges—I don’t know whether Philistia is preparing for war or whether they just like to make spearheads and swords.  

 

As we go further into town, I can see some differences among the people; some of the men wear different colored robes and a few have skullcaps on their heads.  Since all the men have bears, and everybody has some kind of robe, the skullcaps look like a very little difference.  But Dion told me that a skullcap on the crown of a man’s head marks that man as a Hebrew.  And, like he said, there doesn’t seem to be any friction or conflict between the Philistines and Hebrews.

 

Lotan gets to his destination, stops the cart and we get out.  He shakes my hand and says something which I don’t understand.  Suddenly a young man with a beard a little longer than mine says, “He says ‘Thank you!’”  I turned around, look at the young man and say “Hellene?” and he nods and smiles.  Then he says, “I usually can spot a Greek who’s never been to Philistia—we’re out of place, surrounded by beards and long tunics and people who don’t smile much.”

 

I smile, hug him and say “I completely agree!  You have brought a ray of sunshine to me!”

 

“What brings you to the land of olive oil and iron?”

 

“This is going to sound crazy but I hear they have a big, big man named Goliath.  I’d like to wrestle him!”

 

“Spoken like a true Greek athlete!”

 

“My name is Chilon, from Attica.”  I offer to shake his hand; he shakes mine.

 

“I’m Orion, from Athens—but I’m hunting wine and iron.”  He pats me on my back. “Hey!  Are you sure you’re not Hercules?  You’re solid as a rock!”

 

I smile. “Yeah, I get that a lot.  And if we were in Greece you could see that I’m mostly muscle under this tunic.”

 

“Let’s get some wine and talk.  I’m a bit homesick—you can tell me anything you know about Athens.”

 

 

4

 

So we walk a little ways through Gath and find a tavern.  I think we’re the only two guys with small, scraggly beards.  But the wine is pretty good and it’s nice to talk with someone.  We order some wine, look around and it seems we both realize that we’d rather look at each other.

 

“I’d like to open my own forge back in Athens.”   Orion takes a sip of wine; I do too.  He’s a good looking Greek—but then, right now, any Greek would be good-looking.  Still, he has curly black hair and looks pretty fit—what am I saying?  That would describe half the young men in Greece!

 

“Well, the Philistines certainly like their forges.   Have you learned a lot?”

 

“Yes, I have.  And the most important thing is to heat the ore a lot!”  He takes another sip of wine.  “There are a few iron forges back in Athens; I’m hoping to find some short-cuts in how to make the iron.  We need to catch up with all these eastern lands!”

 

“So you just go around to the forges and investigate?”

 

“Only in my spare time.  My father imports wine from Philistia, so I have to look for good deals in wine.”  Some soldiers have come in; at first I wonder if they’re looking for someone, but they soon take off their funny helmets and stack their spears against the wall and order wine—so I guess they’re not a threat.

 

I change the subject: “Have you see him, this Goliath?  I hear he’s nine feet tall!”

 

“Yes, I’ve seen him.  He likes to show off his strength; he likes to lift stuff and have contests with other strong guys—you should compete with him!  But he’s not nine feet tall.  He’s tall, but more like seven, maybe eight feet tall—still taller than you, but”—he slaps my arm—“I think you’ve probably got more muscle than he has!”  I can’t help smiling at that!

 

Like in the tavern in Ashkelon there’s a band and some dancing girls—and they look pretty much like the ones in Ashkelon.  I’m not giving the Philistines any marks for creativity.  I guess they know what they like and they like what they like.

 

But Orion is looking at me looking at the dancing girls.

 

“Do you prefer boys?”  I smile, blush and say “Yes” as I duck my head.  “Then let’s get out of here and fuck!”  I break into a big smile.  I like this guy!

 

 

5

 

Oriion must have some money.  He rents a house several streets over from the tavern, and at his house he has a servant, whom he pays and sends away.  Then he turns to me and says, “I’ve been trying to imagine what’s under your tunic—ever since I first saw you!  Strip, stud!”

 

I chuckle and strip.  Orion is not shy about what he likes: “Wow!  You are certainly packed with muscle!  What a perfection of Greek manhood!  The Philistines have no idea what beauty and power walks among them!”   His hands roam all over me, squeezing my arms, my shoulders, my pecs; his fingers trace the valley between my abs.  Of course, he’s going downward: “Drop it, please!”

 

So I drop my loincloth.  ”And the man is hung!”  And he starts to kneel.  But I lift him back up, kiss him briefly on his mouth and say, “Your turn: strip!”

 

He’s so anxious to get to my cock that he strips fast.  And he’s got a good, fit body—some decent muscle well put together.  “No; you can’t go down on me yet,” I say.  “I haven’t see a beautiful Greek body for days—and I want to enjoy yours!”

 

“But I’m nothing compared to you!”

 

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” I say.  “Do the Philistines at least take care of their bodies, even if they keep them covered up?”

 

“Some soldiers do,” he says, “but they don’t have the gymnasia and they don’t have our games tradition—we Greeks just love our bodies more!”

 

“And I love your Greek body!”  And I pick him up, hold him above the floor and kiss him deeply and for a long time.  Orion first squeezes and caresses my arms and shoulders; then he sort of wilts as our tongues wrestle inside each other’s mouths.

 

When he breaks the kiss, he says, “Wow!  And you’re a great kisser too!”  He squeeze my thick arms more.  “And here I thought I would just worship your muscles—now I know that you can send me to Olympus with a kiss!”

 

I chuckle and say, “You’re a beautiful man, Orion.  Thanks for picking me up!”  I pause and get down on all fours.  “Now, fuck me, Greek stud!”

 

I don’t have to see Orion’s smile—I can hear it in his voice: “With great pleasure, muscle stud!”

 

And the man is a gentleman: he caresses my ass, he probes my hole with his fingers, he enters me slowly.  I sigh, I moan—it’s good to feel a nice, gentle fuck.  I hope I can stay with this beautiful man for a while!

 

He lasts a while, but I wish he had gone longer.  And, gentleman that he is, after he cums, and after he lies on my back for a moment, he puts his hand on my side and gently pushes me over.  So I comply and roll over, and he takes my cock in his mouth.  And he’s a very good cocksucker.  I definitely want to stay here a while!

 

But then I wonder if I’m getting distracted.  I have a mission: fuck Goliath—give him a furious fuck.  And maybe help David when he kills Goliath.  I understand the mission, but I want to spend some time here—in a little island of Greece in the middle of the Philistines.

 

 

6

 

I’m glad Orion sucks me, since it means I don’t have to worry about fucking him too hard.  And I’m used to holding down my thighs when I come.  But of course Orion is too smart not to notice.

 

“Why did you push down on your thighs when you came?”

 

“Because I buck when I first shoot—and I buck pretty hard.  When I was a lonely teenager, I would fuck boulders and when I came, I broke them.”

 

“You broke them?”  Orion is sitting next to me, astonishment on his face.  I turn to him and kiss him—and linger for a little while.  

 

“And that’s not all,” I say.  “I’m not quite human, and I’m not really Greek.  I’m from the future and my cum can give men more muscle.”

 

“How?”  I smile—he doesn’t dispute what I just said; he just wants to know.  

 

“I don’t know how.  I think my cum slowly changes a man’s muscle.  A man has to suck me off three times.  Then he falls into a sleep and shakes a little, and then he grows.  Interested?”  I can’t help smiling.

 

“Will I get as much muscle as you?”

 

“I don’t know.  Every man is different.  I’ve only done it to about a dozen men.”  I think about telling him about Herc, but I decide not to.

 

“Did you change Hercules?”  And he decides for me!

 

I smile and say, “As a matter of fact, I went back in time to see Herc as a teenager—he was a beautiful boy!”  I can’t help sighing a little.  “I wanted to wrestle him, so I joined the barracks next to the palace in Thebes, wrestled him and threw him—and got chained up and whipped because I had hurt a prince of Thebes.”

 

“Something tells me that you didn’t mind the whipping.”

 

“No, I didn’t—especially when Herc showed up that night and sucked my cock.  Before we wrestled, he said if he won, he got to fuck me; I said if I threw him, he had to suck my cock—so the kid was always noble, always honest, always….”  And I’m tearing up.

 

“So he sucked your cock once, and then two more times?”

 

“Yeah, and the third time he woke up with a lot more muscle—and he proceeded to lift a tree out of the ground and soon he killed a big boar with his bare hands.  So, yeah, he got some muscle!”

 

“You sound like you loved him.”

 

“Lots of guys loved him—he was a wonder.”  I pause.  “But I have to change the subject—do you have any food?  Or a favorite tavern for supper?”

 

“Let’s wash off the cum and then head out—there’s a tavern with good lamb nearby.  And who knows, maybe we’ll catch sight of Goliath!”

 

 

7

 

We wash, put on our loincloths and tunics and leave the house.  On our way to the tavern, we notice the sound of a crowd of people down a side street.  Orion takes my arm and says, “Let’s go see,” and we walk down the street and into a square.

 

At the center of the crowd, and taller than everyone, is Goliath.  He’s carrying a big block of stone.  He puts it on two upright stones and invites men to lift it—he gestures toward some big guys and I guess what he says.  Two men come up and try to lift the big stone block off the upright blocks.  They can’t.

 

I whisper to Orion, “I know I can lift it” and I start walking toward Goliath.  Orion holds me back: “We don’t know what will happen once you defeat Goliath.  Better to have supper first, and talk about it.”  So I give in to his greater knowledge of the Philistines.

 

But I don’t like what I see of Goliath.  For one thing, he laughs at the two men who can’t lift the big stone block.  He has a big but rather dead laugh—I can’t tell if he actually enjoys laughing.  I don’t know the language, but it sounds like he’s condescending.  So he’s arrogant.  He’s also greasy and half fat—all his muscles are covered by fat.  Maybe I’m prejudiced because I just had sex with a beautiful Greek man—Orion has a prettier body than big, greasy Goliath.  I can’t stifle a sneer.

 

‘Careful!” whispers Orion.  “Goliath is arrogant and not all that beautiful—but the Philistines love him.  Just look around at their faces as they look at him!”  So I look—and he’s right: I see adoration in the faces of some women, and pride in the faces of some men.  And fear in the faces of other men and women.

 

So we turn aside.  The crowd is breaking up anyway.  Goliath walks away from the big stone block—I guess it stays there until he wants to put on another show.  So we walk in the other direction, toward another tavern.  

 

This one is a step above the one where we had a drink.  It smells better—in fact, I can smell the lamb cooking on spits in wide-mouthed ovens.  Orion leads me to a table against a wall.  A waiter comes over and welcomes Orion back--or that’s what I guess.  Orion talks with the waiter and orders food.  And I’m happy he’s doing the ordering—I hope he’s also doing the paying.  After all, I provided my ass!

 

As we’re drinking wine, Orion comes close to me and says softly, “The Philistines cheat.  The Philistines say the Hebrews cheat, but I’ve seen a lot of cheating among the Philistines.  So that’s the first thing you have to be aware of.  If you beat Goliath at his strength contest, you need to watch out—he may treat you like a new-found brother.  Everything may seem great—and that’s when you have to be extra careful.”

 

I listen and nod.  But I have an idea: “You know, I’d feel better if I had a good friend who has some more muscle.  You interested in getting more muscle tonight?”   Orion smiles and says, “I didn’t want to push you, since you already came once today.  But if you’re offering, then I’m more than willing.  Will you stay by me and make sure nothing goes wrong?”

 

“Absolutely.  And don’t worry about my cumming again.  Once I get a little meat in me, my cock can shoot a couple more times!”

 

The waiter returns with platters of sliced lamb along with sliced cucumber, sliced onion and a white sauce that makes everything taste great.  I’m famished and eat too fast at first; then I slow down.  Orion says, “Neither the Philistines nor the Hebrews eat pork—they think it’s unclean because pigs wallow in mud, or something.  But they do a fine job with lamb—something else I plan to take back to Athens.”

 

“What’s this white sauce?” I say.

 

“I think it’s goats milk and eggs and some spices—I still have to get a recipe for it.  Tasty, yes?”

 

“It’s great!”

 

“Actually,”  I add,  “I’ll get hungry again—and so will you, when you change.  So you’d better ask our waiter to put several slices of lamb inside a couple pieces of bread.”

 

 

8

 

Once we get back to Orion’s house, I strip and sit down against a wall;  I jerk my cock a couple times and say, “Suck me off, stud!”  Orion smiles and goes for my cock.

 

I fondle his hair as he sucks.  “Thanks for doing this,” I say.  “I’ve never felt so out of place.  I’d love to have a muscle buddy to help me out!”  Orion smiles and sucks some more.  

 

Soon I’m ready to cum.  Once again I put my hands on my thighs and press down as I cum.  Orion gets a good load, sits up and wipes his mouth.  “And you really can do this again?”

 

“In a little while.  Could you pass me some lamb and bread?”  He does.  As I munch, I ask him, “Do you think I could just go and lift the big stone block—before Goliath even gets there?”

 

Orion thinks and says, “No; that would be presumptuous.  Better if you wait for Goliath to invite men to try and lift the stone.”

 

“And can I strip off my tunic before I lift—to show off my muscles?”

 

“Again, that would be seen as presumptuous.  If you haven’t noticed, these people are not very creative.  All their iron forges they copied from the Hittites; the wine-making they copied from the Hebrews.  Even their olive groves they got from the people who lived here before the Philistines came—the Canaanites.”

 

“So Goliath is pretty much a normal Philistine: he believes in power and strength and not much else.”

 

“Pretty much!”  He pauses.  “You ready to go again?”

 

“Yeah.  Now, remember, you’ll suck, sit up and then fall over.  I’ll be with you all through your change.  And after you change, you’ll want to eat—and you’ll probably want to wrestle.”

 

“Sounds good!”  So he bends down and starts sucking for his third load.  I’m soon ready to pop.  I push down on my thighs; he gets a good load, sits up, smiles, and falls right over.

 

I caress his back as he shakes and then he goes into a deep sleep and starts to change.  His muscles grow; his back swells; he gets thicker biceps and triceps, longer arms and legs.  And as I bend down to look at his face, I see that he’s even better looking—so I’m happy!

 

When he wakes up, he looks at his arms—like all the other guys—and smiles; I help him stand up.  He’s wobbly and he falls into my arms.  He smiles and says, “Thank you!  I’ve always wanted more muscle—you’ve given me a great gift!”

 

“No,“ I say, “Thank you for doing this—I feel better already, knowing I have a muscle buddy in this strange land!  And besides, you look even more beautiful!”  And I kiss him—and we linger.  I pause and look him up and down.  “It’s such a shame that you’ll have to wear your tunic—people should be able to enjoy your beautiful body!”   But Orion is already munching on some lamb.  He asks how long he’ll be hungry.  I tell him only a couple of days.  

 

After he eats, he gives me a smile and heads for my legs.  I smile too—I knew this was coming.  I want him to try and lift me, to use his new muscles.  “You’re heavy!” he says.  

 

“Yeah, I know—muscle density.”  But he’s game: he comes at me again.  And I love feeling his muscles flexing against mine.  I want this to last.  So I don’t overpower him; I let him pull on my arms, my legs, try to take my arm around my back, try to throw me—but then I lift him up, up off the floor, and give him a big kiss before I throw him over my back and carry him around like a sack of straw.  He giggles a bit, so I set him down; he says, “I asked for that, but it was still fun.”  Then he smiles and says, “Wanna go again?”  So I smile and we do it all again.

 

He really is beautiful, and now he has bigger muscles and a couple inches more height—only an inch or so shorter than me.  His muscles won’t fill out his tunic to failure, but people will know the man is built.  And I have a muscle buddy in what I see as a sad, sad land.

 

 

9

 

Of course we fuck.  He fucks me and then I tell him if he sucks my cock again, he’ll get more muscle density, so he dives for my cock.  We’re an island of joyous man-love in a land without much joy.  And I love how we go from sex to cuddling and sleeping together on the floor.

 

In the morning, I follow Orion around as he checks some local forges and takes mental notes.  We talk about what he saw when we eat at another tavern.  We also talk about what we can expect when I lift Goliath’s big stone block.  

 

Later in the afternoon, we head to the square where yesterday we saw Goliath and his test of strength.  We’re not alone—a crowd gathers.  I get the impression that some people do this every day: come to the square to see how strong Goliath is.  It seems strange to me, so many people waiting to see a simple test of strength.  Don’t they have anything better to do?  Or is this the height of Philistine entertainment?

 

Goliath in all his greasy glory enters the square.  He lifts up the big stone block, carries it around the square and then puts it back.  He has a huge smile—he’s so proud of himself.  Then he gestures to the crowd and says something.  A couple of guys come out of the crowd, walk over to the big stone block and together try to lift it.  They’re not the same guys who tried this yesterday.  After they admit defeat and fade back into the crowd, I step forward.

 

Goliath looks at me and sneers.  This makes me want to defeat him even more.  I go over to the big stone block and start lifting it.  I don’t want to make it appear too easy, so I grimace and look like the block is heavy and lifting it is a strain.  But I slowly lift it.  The crowd mutters.  I lift it above my head.  The crowd mutters some more.  Then, still holding the block above my head, I turn around and look at Goliath.

 

He’s stunned; his mouth gapes open.  He tries to say something but can’t.

 

Then I take one of my hands away and hold the big stone block above my head with one hand.  The crowd gasps, murmurs, and some in the crowd become angry.  I try to find Orion in the crowd, but he’s covered up by people shouting and making what looks to me to be “Fuck you!” gestures.

 

I put the big stone block back on the two upright support blocks.  Goliath comes over and pats me on my shoulder—a bit condescending, as if I’m a child who has done well.

 

Then a man in a red robe comes forward with two goblets of wine.  He gives one to Goliath and one to me.  Smiling, Goliath raises his goblet to toast me; I clink his goblet with mine.  He drinks.  I drink.  

 

And then everything goes dark.

 

 

10

 

I’m groggy, but I can slowly open my eyes.  Before me in a torch-lit chamber is a statue of a bearded man with a small tower on his head, dressed in a long tunic and seated on a chair.  On either side of the statue are torches.  Before the statue is what I think is an altar.

 

There’s a bearded man in a red robe in front of me.  And he’s jerking my hard cock.  Only then do I realize I’m naked—and my arms are chained to columns on either side of me.  And I can’t break the chains.  They are thick; I’m still half asleep and I can’t wake up.

 

But I’m awake enough to shoot my cum.  The bearded man in front of me smiles and catches my cum in a silver bowl.  After I shoot several times—and he smiles even more—I stop cumming and he walks to my side, and lifts up the silver bowl.  I hear shouts and cheers and “Dagon!  Dagon!  Dagon!”  Then the bearded man with my cum turns around and approaches the seated statue.  He raises the silver bowl of my cum and says a few words, then he dumps my cum on the altar in front of the statue.

 

Cumming makes me even sleepier.  I wonder if they’ll take the chains off my wrists and let me go.  But no.

 

I feel breath on my back—then I realize it’s pretty stinky breath.  Then two large hands take hold of my arms and lift me up—not enough to break the chains, but high enough to slam my ass down on a pretty big cock.  And I hear Goliath chuckle as he impales my ass on his cock.  Then he lifts me up and impales my ass again—and he chuckles some more.  This isn’t fucking; this is humiliation: he can lift me up and impale my ass as many times as he likes.  I begin forming in my mind the idea of fucking his ass as violently as possible.

 

But the crowd loves watching my ass get impaled by their big champion.  They cheer every time he slams my ass down on his big cock.  Impale my ass—a cheer; Impale my ass—a cheer.  I get the impression that the big greaser doesn’t ever cum—he just gets a hard cock and plays with it.

 

OK—I guess I’m getting more conscious.  I tighten my hole; it’s harder for him to slam my ass down on his rod.  But once he gets his cock in my ass, it gets harder—he’s going to cum.  And finally, I feel him shoot; he lets out a big “Ahhhh!” and the crowd cheers even louder.

 

I loosen my hole; his cock quickly goes limp.  So, I guess now they’ll let me go?

 

Nope; I feel a huge fist come down on my head and darkness again.

 

 

11

 

I’m groggy again.  But I feel my arm around someone’s shoulder—Orion.  He whispers, “Can you walk?”  I can nod.  He helps me walk.  It’s dark; it must be night.  I start to say something; he whispers, “Don’t talk—not until we’re home.”

 

It seems an awfully long way to walk to his house.  I don’t know the city, but it seems we’re walking a long way.

 

Finally, he opens a door and takes me inside.  Soon, he lets me fall on his bed.  Then he lights some lamps.  He makes some noises in another room.  He comes back into the bedroom and puts a wet cloth to my face.  Then he washes my cock and then he reaches under my nut sack and washes my hole.

 

He lifts my head up and says, “Do you want something to drink?  Wine?”  I nod.  He goes away for a minute; then he brings a cup to my lips and pours some wine into my mouth.  “Do you want more?”  I shake my head no.  “But do you have something to eat?”  He smiles, kisses my cheek and goes away.

 

He returns with some bread, breaks some off and gives it to me.  “Here, eat this.”  I put it into my mouth and it tastes better than any bread I’ve ever eaten.  I say,  “Thanks!”  Then I give him a kiss.  “See?  I knew I needed a muscle buddy—and you’ve saved me!”

 

“Well, I don’t think I saved you—you would have recovered eventually.  But I followed them when they took you out of town; I waited until they left and then went to you.  We came back into town through several back alleys.”  I eat some more bread and say, “I’d kill for a slice of lamb!”

 

“Sorry, don’t have any—and all the taverns are closed.”  He looks at me and says, “And you shouldn’t go out in the street during the day.  So I’ll bring you something to eat when things open up in a few hours.”  I can’t help it: the man is beautiful and so tender; I have to kiss him again.

 

“Yeah, I love you too, but you’re in no condition to fuck or be fucked.  You need to sleep and rest.”  And he kisses my cheek and gently but firmly puts my head down on the bed.  I can at least smile at this beautiful man.  But then I’m out.

 

I wake up and Orion is sitting on the bed beside me.  “Did you sit with me all night?”

 

“No; I slept on the floor for a few hours.”  He kisses my cheek.  “How do some eggs and bread and goats milk sound?  Maybe some fruit?”

 

“It all sounds great!”

 

“Then you rest here and I’ll run and get some!”  And he gives me another kiss on my cheek, gets up and runs out of the room and out of the house.

 

I do feel better.  I guess the drugs finally wore off.  I get out of bed and stretch.  To check myself, I lift Orion’s bed with one finger—yep; I’m back!

 

I wish I was home with Bruce and Carlos and Dick.  I wish I had a magazine to read.  I wish I wasn’t feeling this intense rage inside me—I want to hurt Goliath real bad.  But I can’t kill him—David has to do that, and I’m happy to let him.  Bruce is right; I’m not a killer.  But for the first time in my life I want to fuck a man senseless.  I guess in a weird way Carlos and Dick were right!

 

And then I realize that Orion was right—I shouldn’t have drunk that wine with Goliath.  The Philistines cheat.  They couldn’t take me down with Goliath or even with Goliath and twenty other men, so they drugged me and made me a cum slave for some god named Dagon and then a fuck-boy for Goliath.  So I owe Orion an apology—and then I hope he can help me plan to fuck Goliath senseless.

 

Orion comes in with a platter of eggs and bread and and a cup of goats milk.  I take the platter and kiss his cheek, then walk over to the table and chair, sit down and eat the eggs much too fast.  The bread and milk I take more slowly.  Orion has his own piece of bread with some eggs wrapped up in it.

 

“That’s a clever way to eat eggs,” I say.  

 

“Yeah, I needed something for me, and I had them scramble the eggs and fold them in the bread.  It’s not bad!”

 

“I have to apologize to you—I should have listened to you and not drank that wine!”

 

“That’s OK.  You’re so strong, you probably thought you could beat Goliath and ten other men.  But the Philistines cheat!”

 

“Yeah, they do.  Now I hope you can help me plan a way to get back at Goliath.”

 

“What do you mean by ‘get back’—you want to kill him?”

 

“No; there’s a Hebrew shepherd boy named David who will do that with a slingshot—I’ll help him along but in the future the story of David and Goliath is too important to mess with!”

 

“Wow!  A shepherd boy kills the mighty Goliath!  I can see why you don’t want to mess with that story!”

 

“Yeah.  All I want to do is fuck him real hard—so that he feels it for days.  And I don’t care if he’s humiliated or not.  I’ll know and he’ll know—and maybe that knowledge will make him be unprepared for David’s slingshot.”

 

“That’s good.  Fucking him hard without anyone around—that would be best.”  Then he puts his hand on my thick arm. “But you know you’ll have to leave town as soon as you’re finished.”  He pauses and looks in my eyes.  “And I will miss you.”

 

Suddenly I realize that he’s right: “And I will miss you!”  And we kiss—deep and long.  “But won’t you have to leave, too?”  

 

“Maybe,” he says, but he says it like it’s not something he’s thought before.  

 

“But I have to do this,” I say.  And he says, “I know.”  And we kiss some more, and then we fuck.

 

 

12

 

After sex, Orion asks how I will leave town.I say, “I’ll fly away!”

 

He smiles and says, “No, really—how?”  So I say it again.  He smiles and laughs and says, “Are you being a poet?”  But when he looks at me and I’ve got my serious face on, he says,  “Or can you really fly?”

 

I say, “It’s night. Few people are about.  Wanna go up in the air with me?”  Orion’s smile gets tentative and then disappears.  He says, “Well, I guess.”

 

“Don’t worry, my love.  I’ve never dropped anyone!”  So we go outside; I check up and down the street.  I hug Orion to me and we go up, up—.

 

He gasps.  It’s night; the stars are out but the moon is behind some clouds.  I have his face near mine.  I kiss him and say, “Anywhere in particular you want to go?”  He says he wants to see the Great Sea, so I head west.  I land on the shore, somewhere between Ashkelon and Ashdod.  The moon comes out and shines on the gentle waves.  

 

Orion hugs me and says, “Why don’t you do this all the time?”  I hug him back and say, “Because I try to fit in with human beings—and flying is not something humans can do!”

 

“Back in your country, do you fly more?”  We walk into the moonlit waves; we splash each other a little—more to wash off than for fun.

 

“Yep.  There I’m called Superman and I help people out with my great strength and ability to fly.  And I have a lover who is great at solving crimes.”

 

“Do you miss him?”

 

“Yes, but he and our kids—we’ve adopted two young men—wanted me to come back and fuck Goliath—the boys figured I could fuck him without controlling myself.  It turns out they were right!  I want to fuck him very hard—but I don’t think I can fuck him to death.”

 

“Yeah, when you fucked me I could tell that you were holding back.”

 

“That’s because I love you”—and I give him a kiss.  The waves are lapping at our feet as we walk along the shore. “if I let go, I could kill you by thrusting my cock too hard and deep into your body.  When I fuck someone I love, I control myself all the time.”

 

Now Orion kisses me: “Thanks for controlling yourself!  Let’s sit.”  We sit and look out over the waves.  “This is our last night together.  I know why you have to do this—and I agree that you do.  Goliath should be fucked, and fucked hard—and you’re the man to do it.”  He pauses.  “So, instead of saying how much I’ll miss you, let’s plan your attack!”

 

And I have to kiss him—I know he’ll miss me, probably more than I’ll miss him.  But at least he’s got more muscle to remember me by!

 

Orion knows where Goliath lives—a large house on the eastern side of town.  I say, “That’s good!  I’ll be heading toward Jerusalem anyway!”

 

“And it’s best if you go there at night.  I’ll go with you—just so I can get a kiss from you before you fly away!”

 

“And you can warn me if anyone comes by, or hears Goliath crying out in pain!”

 

“Will do.  I know a place where I can hide and knock on a wall to warn you—but then, you don’t need much protection, do you?”

 

“Not really—but I’d like to see the thing through.  I want to thoroughly fuck the bastard!”  But I stop and look at Orion and say, “And I think I’ll fly you back here—or to Ashkelon.  Someone will have noticed you with me; it won’t be safe for you in Gath after I’ve fucked Goliath.  Can’t you do your work for your father in Ashkelon?”

 

Orion thinks and then says, “Yes, I can.  But I’ll have to get a bag of gold out of my house in Gath before I come here.  So after you fuck Goliath, fly me to my house and then fly me here—or to the edge of Ashkelon before you take off for Jerusalem.”

 

“That sounds like a good plan!”

 

We walk along the beach a bit more, then I fly us back to his house.  He sucks my cock and then we cuddle all night.

 

 

13

 

The next day, Orion gives me a loincloth and a tunic to wear.  The tunic is very snug, but Orion likes it.  We eat breakfast in a local tavern when Orion recognizes a Hebrew friend.  He waves him over and introduces me as Chilon.  I guess he says I only speak Greek.  

 

“I speak little Greek,” says Micah.  So we go back and forth: Orion and Micah speak Philistine and then one or the other of them speaks Greek to me.

 

But I learn that Micah likes King Achish of Gath:  “He’s a man we can work with.”

 

I ask Micah if he’s heard of a shepherd boy named David who plays a very sweet harp.

 

“Yes, I have,” he says.  “King Saul sent for him to play for him.”  Micah shakes his head; “Saul is a trouble man.”  He points to his head. “Not right, here!”

 

I look at Orion; I’m not sure how much to ask about David—where he tends his flocks, his friendship with Saul’s son Jonathan.  How much can I say before Micah sees me as a spy or something stranger?  But Orion is smart, so he takes over, talking with Micah more freely in Philistine.  Soon Micah nods his head and says something in Philistine and then in Greek: “I must go—meeting someone!”  So we give our goodbyes and he leaves.

 

Orion turns to me and says, “David tends his flock south of Jerusalem, near Bethlehem.”  Of course!  I face palm and say, “Bethlehem, of course!  The Savior is born in Bethlehem, out of the root of Jesse—David is the son of Jesse!”  

 

Orion looks puzzled and says, “Who’s this savior?”

 

I shake my head and say, “Jesus Christ is born in Bethlehem—where David was born—and Christianity becomes the number one religion over the whole globe.”

 

Then Orion says, “What’s a globe?”  And I just shake my head and say, “The world is not flat; it’s round, like a globe.”  I make my hands into the shape of a globe; Orion’s mouth hangs open.

 

I need to help him: “In the future the world is a lot different from what you understand.”  Orion shakes his head and says, “It must be, because I’m pretty confused by most of what you’ve been saying.”

 

“I’m sorry.  I should have kept that stuff about Jesus in my head.  It just blurted out.”  I’m fishing for a way to reconnect with Orion.  “You see, when I grew up I had very religious parents.  To my Mom, where we are now is called ‘The Holy Land’ because of David and Jesus and a lot of other Hebrews.”

 

“So the Hebrews take over the world?”

 

“Hardly.  In fact, they are persecuted by a whole lot of people.  But Jesus was a Hebrew and a religion grows up about him and spreads all over the world.”

 

“Then he must be a god!”

 

“Yes, of course.”  And I leave it at that.  One reference to the future and the questions just keep coming.  I have no business getting into theology as well!  I suggest that we walk about Gath so he can look at the forges one last time before his life and my life change.

 

The rest of the day I follow Orion; he has several forges to visit.  He asks questions; it’s clear that he’s taking mental notes.  We eat an early supper at the tavern with the delicious lamb.  The waiter says something about me—he gestures toward me—and Orion answers.  When I ask what was said, he says, “I told him you were my cousin from Greece.”  He smiles and adds, “And he says he noticed a similarly, since we both have muscle!”  And his smile widens.  “So, cuz, thanks for the muscles!”

 

 

14

 

That night, well after sunset, we take several back alleys to the eastern edge of town.  I can barely make out Goliath’s house: the walls are tall, so I guess someone had it made especially for him.  There are some soldiers nearby, but they mainly look sleepy.  Then, out of the house come three young women—all of them clutching their clothes to their bodies; all of them stifling tears.

 

I turn to Orion and whisper: “That only makes me want to fuck him harder!”  Orion says, “Shhh!”

 

He leads me back from the street, down a side street toward the rear of Goliath’s house.  We look both ways and notice that no one is nearby.  We quietly walk toward the house.  Orion points to an open window at the back of the house.  He points down—he’ll stay here;  I should go in through the window.  I do.

 

The house is quiet except for the snoring of Goliath in a side room.  I head toward the snores.  Goliath is lying down on a huge bed—again, something that must have been built just for him.  Fine.  

 

I quietly go over to him and cover his open mouth.  I whisper, “Hey, big guy!  Remember me?”  Then I pull him up by his arm and turn him around so fast that he’s probably confused.  I push his head down on the mattress while I twist his arm behind his back.  “I’m gonna fuck you, big guy!”  I whisper—even though I know he doesn’t understand a word I’ve said.

 

I briefly let go of his arm and head as I whirl out of my clothes.  I’m going to do this naked—without these Philistine clothes!  But I reapply the wrestling hold on his arm and push his head so his mouth is down on the mattress, to stifle his screams.  Because he has tried to scream.  And he’s tried to hit me with his free arm, but his hits are so weak I can barely feel them.  Still, I’d better get busy.

 

I’ve never used my cock as a weapon, but that’s what I’m doing now—and this brute is just the guy to get the full force of my weapon.  I slam my cock into his hole.  Of course, it’s a big hole, since he’s a big guy.  But then I have a pretty big cock.  I wish his hole was tighter, but we work with what we’re given.

 

I slam, I ram, I thrust—and I’ve never pushed my cock so hard into someone before.  I guess this is what the boys meant by “letting go.”   But I’m still a little bit in control—I can’t kill the brute.  Goliath whimpers and cries into the mattress.  Good!  Maybe I’m hurting him.  So I keep it up: more thrusts, more rams—I remember him impaling my ass on his big cock.  This—is—payback.

 

I keep one hand on his head, to stifle his cries into the mattress.  I let up on twisting his arm behind his back, so he tries to hit me again—but without much power.  It’s like he’s so shocked by what’s happening to his hole, he can’t quite put up a real fight.  Still, I have some fight in me.

 

I hit his back—not hard enough to kill him, just hard enough to tell him I’m a lot stronger than he is.  And he moans from the impact, so I do it again and again—I’m hitting him as I’m fucking him.  In some ways it feels right and just.

 

But soon it seems empty.  I’m just not good at punishing someone with my cock.  I’m hard but I’m not close to cumming—and I briefly wonder if all my control in fucking men I’ve loved—if that has conditioned me to cum only when I’ve used control.  But I ram my cock in him harder—and he moans more—to try to get my cock rigid so it will cum.

 

And when he’s a heap of quivering muscle and fat—when he’s completely submitted to my fucking him—finally, I can cum.  I shoot—and I’m so relieved that it’s all over.

 

I take my cock out of the big brute and slap his ass one last time.  “Now maybe you know how it feels!” I say, even though I know he doesn’t understand me.  He’s a whimpering mess.  I whirl back into my clothes and creep out of the house.

 

 

15

 

I go out where I went in.  Orion is waiting for me, smiling.  I’m not smiling.  I ask, “Did you hear him cry?”  He says, “I hear muffled cries—I don’t think they carried beyond the house.”  I say “Good!” but I’m still not smiling.

 

Still, I pick him up and fly him over to his house.  He goes inside and retrieves a small bag and a bigger bag—I guess the small bag is gold and the larger bag is clothes.  I pick him up and again and we fly over to the shore of the Great Sea.

 

When we land, I take his head in my hands, kiss him and say, “Thank you for helping me and staying with me!”

 

“Surely you’re not going to fly off right away!”

 

“No; but I wanted to thank you.  Let’s sit and talk.  But first, I want to wash off the cum.”  I strip out of my Philistine clothes and wade into the waves; I enjoy splashing myself.  I call to Orion to join me.  He strips and comes in.  We splash each other like boys.  Then I pick him up and throw him a little.  He loves it—and wants me to throw him some more.  So we go further out into the sea and I throw him higher; he lands with a big splash and loves it.  And I love seeing him happy, so I do it three or four more times.  It’s a good break from everything else tonight.  

 

But when we sit and we’re waiting to dry off, he notices that I’m once again not happy: “What’s wrong?”

 

I watch the moonlight on the waves.  “I wanted to do it, but when I did it I didn’t like it.  In fact, I hated it.”  I sigh.  “I guess I’m not much of.a man.”

 

“What?” he shouts.  There’s a wind over the waves, so I’m sure no one can hear him.  “You are Superman—stronger than any man!  How can you be not much of a man?”

 

“Because I just don’t work the way most men work; I don’t feel the way most men feel.  I should have felt happy fucking Goliath after he fucked and humiliated me.  And I did for a little while—but it didn’t last.  And then I just felt kind of empty, like the whole retribution thing wasn’t worth it.”

 

“Did you learn to be so good and kind from your mother?”  I look at Orion and smile.  “You are a very smart man, my love!”  And I can help kissing him.  “You may be right.”  I pause and look at the waves coming closer to our feet.  “I’m not really human but my folks raised me with good morals—and I’ve never strayed too far from their teachings.”  I pause again.  “My lover back in my time says I’m too good, too trusting, and I only see the good in people.  He says I’m a Boy Scout—a boy who follows the rules.”

 

“What are those rules?”

 

“A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.  If you knew anything about my time, you’d know that I just recited the Scout’s Oath.  Yeah, I still know it.”

 

“And you are all those things!  So what’s the problem?”

 

“The problem is that ‘real men’ grow out of being Boy Scouts when they grow up.  So I guess I’m not a real man.”

 

“Now you’re just being silly.  You’re stronger than any man; you are the best fuck I’ve ever had—and the best fucker, since you’re so careful.  And shouldn’t a real man be able to love and protect those he loves?”  I can’t help smiling.  I turn to him and hug him to me—I do love this man!

 

We hug and kiss and then look around.  We’re alone.  I want to give Orion pleasure, so we move further up the beach and find some grasses to shield us; then I go down on him.

 

A little later I fly him into Ashkelon.  He tells me where to land—he knows the city pretty well and knows an inn that will be open, where he can stay until he finds a new place.   He gives me a little bag with some lamb and bread in it: “You may get hungry on your way to Jerusalem.”  He looks around at his new city. “There are more Greeks in Ashkelon.  It’ll be a better place for me.”

 

I look at him and know he’s lying a little, but I do have to say good-bye.  So, after one last deep and lingering kiss, and a final hug, I say good-bye and lift off.

 

 

16

 

I fly back over Gath and then east.  It’s not hard to see Jerusalem: it’s on a hill and there are torches burning in some streets.  But I’m headed south of Jerusalem, toward Bethlehem.  It’s still night when I land; I find some bushes on a hillside next to a big boulder.  I settle down and fall asleep.

 

I hear lambs bleating and the faint sounds of a young man’s voice—a sweet voice.  I must have chosen the right boulder to sleep behind.  I carefully get up and make sure that the bushes beside the boulder hide me.

 

When I peak over the boulder, I see a beautiful young man with curly brown hair carrying a shepherd’s crook with a lyre slung over his back.  He’s walking beside the flock of sheep, and they seem to be headed toward the hillside where I am.  I make sure I’m hidden.  It occurs to me that this boulder would be a good place for the young man to rest against.  

 

It must be David.  His voice is strong and lovely—even when he’s singing softly, it carries, and when he sings louder, his voice doesn’t lose its sweetness.  It makes sense that a man “not right” in his head would be charmed by such a voice.  David does go to the other side of the boulder.  His flock scatters on the hillside, but not too far from David—it’s like the sheep know not to stray too far away.

 

I want to see him, so I look through the boulder.  He takes something our of a pouch—maybe bread?  He eats it and then takes a drink from what looks like a goatskin bag.  I’m already wondering how I can get a lamb stuck in a thicket so that he’ll have to leave his food so that I can see what he’s drinking.

 

But then he strums his lyre—and he starts to sing.  This is not some little walking song; this seems to be something more serious.  Of course, the words are Hebrew and I have no idea what he’s saying.  Maybe “The Lord is my Shepherd”?  That would be funny—me, back in time, hearing “The Lord is My Shepherd” in the original Hebrew—Mom would be so proud!

 

I look around the boulder.  I spy another boulder with a thicket of bushes nearby.  Yes, I see a lamb straying that way.  In a flash, I fly over, pick up the lamb and fly behind the boulder.  I carefully put the lamb into the thicket—not to hurt it, but to make sure he’s caught and can’t get free.  Then I fly back to the first boulder and wait.

 

The lamb starts to bleat—and bleat, and bleat.  David has to get up; he walks over to the other boulder and goes behind it.  This gives me a chance to speed around the boulder and open up the skin with the liquid in it.  I give it a quick sniff and put the stopper back in.  Goat’s milk.  Excellent!

 

I fly back around the boulder.  I hear David walking back; he stops for a bit.  I look through the boulder and see him letting the lamb down, back with the rest of the flock—he really was a good shepherd boy!  So I wait.  I eat the lamb and bread Orion gave me.  Pretty soon David stops singing; in fact, he starts snoring.  The sheep are all contentedly munching grass.  

 

I slip around the boulder, steal the goat’s milk skin and bring it back to my side of the boulder.  I raise my tunic and lower my loincloth; I beat off into the goat’s milk—it’s a bit tricky, getting the mouth of the skin so it takes my cum, but I can do it.  Then I put the stopper back in and return it to David.  This shepherd boy is going to have more muscle, if I have anything to say about it!

 

Then I fly away and take a nap behind another boulder.  As the afternoon wears on, I fly back to my original boulder.  David is singing another psalm; I put another lamb in a different, further away thicket.  While he’s gone after the lamb, I beat off into the goat’s milk again, put the stopper back and return the skin to its original location.  So, two cums done.

 

Do I beat off into the goat’s milk once more?   Or would that be too strange—a “miracle of the goat’s milk” as he falls asleep and wakes up with more muscle?  But not doing it now means complications could get in the way.  I take stock: do I feel like I can cum again?  Yes, I can.  I feel good—maybe it’s Orion’s cum; maybe it gives me strength.  I can cum again, so I will.

 

I look through the boulder at the flock of sheep.  I spy a lamb who has strayed even further away—over to my left, toward a thicket there.  So once more I speed over to the lamb and put him in the thicket.  Then I speed back and wait for David the good shepherd to rescue his lamb.  

 

When he gets up, I repeat what I’ve done twice before: get the goatskin, take out the stopper, rapidly beat off into it, put the stopper back in and return said goatskin to David’s place on the other side of the boulder.  I smile.  I guess I’m being an angel—unseen, doing a good deed—yeah, a biblical Boy Scout!

 

When David gets back to his place, he takes a long drink of goat’s milk from the goatskin and he slumps down.  I go around the boulder and make sure he’s asleep and changing.  Yes, he’s shaking some; he snores again, and then he starts changing: his arms get bigger; his shoulders wider—now he’ll be able to sling that stone so he kills Goliath!  He gets a little taller, but not much.  Mostly, he gains muscle—which is good.

 

I stick around, going back to my side of the boulder but keeping in touch, watching him through the boulder.  He shakes his head as he wakes up—I guess he feels groggy.  He looks at his bigger arms and says a few words, but I have no idea what they are.  Then he tries getting up.   It’s a good thing he’s right next to the boulder—he needs the support.  In fact, he sits back down and waits for a while.  He takes up his lyre and sings a little.  I wonder if he’s worried that his physical change means he might lose his beautiful voice.  But no, he sounds the same—maybe a bit stronger.  He only sings a little so I guess he’s satisfied.  

 

Then he gets up, puts his lyre on his back and his goatskin on his shoulder, and then he lets out a loud whistle—I guess he’s calling his flock.  They bleat and turn toward him.  He picks up his shepherd’s crook and starts back up the hill he came down in the morning.

 

My work here is done.  I’ve made David bigger and stronger.  He will have the muscle he needs to slay Goliath and to lead the armies of Israel in his conquests.  I smile, then fly away—toward Jerusalem.

 

 

17

 

In Jerusalem, I look for anyone who looks the least bit Greek.  I know; it’s a stretch.  But I need someone to translate for me—I can’t very well walk up to Jonathan and ask to join his army!

 

But then I see a small company of cavalry riding through a street.  And the leader is a beautiful young man—could this be Jonathan?  They stop and I do hear someone say “Jonathan”.  I can’t believe my luck.  

 

I go up to him and say, “I’m Hellene, but I would like to join your army!  I understand that you will be fighting Philistines soon.”

 

I have no idea if he understands me.  He looks me up and down—I guess my muscles are making an impression—and answers, in Greek, “Yes, we are preparing for a threat from Gath.  We could use a man of muscle like you!  Follow us to the barracks!”  And he and his comrades ride off.

 

I run to keep up with them—well, more of a trot.  Jonathan looks back and smiles that I’m able to keep up with them—and I’m not even panting.

 

At the barracks he personally shows me around.  He finds a soldier who understands some Greek.  I get a uniform and a mattress to sleep on.  When I take off my tunic, I hear soft gasps from some of the men—I doubt if any of them have seen so much muscle on a man before.  Still, they seem fairly friendly.  Of course, most wear skullcaps: they’re Hebrew; I’m not.  But I don’t feel any prejudice or suspicion—again, I guess my muscles are getting me accepted.  But then I get taken out of the barracks.  Jonathan is there.

 

He’s direct:  “I understand most Greeks can wrestle.  Can you?”  “Yes, a little; but I’m pretty strong, and that usually helps me.”  I smile; Jonathan smiles.  “I’d like you to teach my troops what you know about wrestling and fighting.  Could you do that—work with six of them at a time—and maybe they can train others?” 

 

“Certainly,” I say.  “I’d be happy to help.  However, I need to ask your permission: we Greeks wrestle nude.  I don’t have to be nude, but I’d like to wrestle without wearing a uniform.  Would that be permitted?”

 

“We can accept that.”  He thinks, “But I’m sure some of my more observant men will insist on keeping their bodies covered.  Can you adjust to that?”

 

‘Yes; I can respect religious differences.”

 

“So you know something of our religion!”

 

“Yes, a little.”

 

“Then, I will tell my captain to ask for six volunteers to learn more about wrestling—and to expect that you will wrestle without your uniform, but they can wrestle with or without theirs.  Is that acceptable?”  I nod.  The man is a thorough-going commander.  I like him.  But he remembers something:  “And I will have Captain Haviv assist you since he knows some Greek.”

 

‘That would be very helpful.”

 

“After your training session, I will want a report—can you come have supper with me later?”

 

“Certainly.  You deserve a report.”

 

“Excellent!  We Hebrews have great morale, but we lack some combat skills.  I will look for you at sunset.”

 

 

18

 

Captain Haviv is young, stocky and strong with a black beard and a ready smile.  I can tell immediately that his men will follow him anywhere.  He calls his men together and introduces me—although Hebrews say “Chilon” with a bit more guttural “Ch” sound.  I guess he asks for volunteers.  Six men step forward quickly.  Haviv dismisses the others.

 

We find the only grassy place near the barracks.  But since it’s near the barracks, I can already see men’s heads peeking from the small windows.  I take off my uniform and strip down to my loincloth.  In Greece, the loincloth would go too—but I’m not in Greece.

 

Three of the men take off their uniforms.  Their loincloths look more like loose diapers.  Still, I admire their courage to learn something from a foreigner.

 

I tell Haviv I’m going to assume a standard wrestling stance.  He translates.

 

I assume my stance—legs wide, arms above my legs, hands open, ready to grab something.  All six men also assume the stance.  Then I ask Haviv to ask for a volunteer to run at me, attack me.

 

One of the brave men in diapers—but with some muscle—runs toward me.  I take his arm and twist it behind his back.  I tell Haviv that this is a standard wrestling move and one which all the men should learn.  I let my man go with a gentle slap on his shoulder.  I tell Haviv to ask the man to try to put the same move on me.  I go toward him; he grabs my arm and twists it behind my back.  I smile and laugh and then get out of the hold.

 

But I clap him on his shoulder again—and he gives me a hug, which I return.  I’m navigating a whole religion of taboos, out of my league.  But a smile and a slap on the shoulder seems to work fine.  

 

I go down the line: first having each man come after me; then putting their arm behind them, and then having them do the same to me.  After I’ve done this with two men, I ask Haviv to have those two men practice with each other—and I will have the other four men pair up after I introduce the hold to each of them.

 

The men are all young and eager; some are stronger than others.  The ones out of uniform have better bodies than the men still in uniform, but a couple of the uniformed men have some serious strength—sort of an intensity which their thin muscles disguise.

 

After I have all six men practicing on each other, I stand by Haviv.  He says, “This goes well.  You good teacher.”

 

I have Haviv ask the men if they understand how to perform the hold.  He does; they all nod.  “Then,” I say, “You need to learn how to get out of it.”  Haviv translates.

 

I go back to the first man I worked with.  I have him put me into the hold.  Then I carefully show how to get out of it—asking Haviv to translate each move in the escape.  I ask that the men practice this next. But it looks like they already understand how to get out of the hold!

 

They’re pretty smart guys!  I smile.  Haviv smiles.  I ask Haviv if this is enough for today.  He smiles and says “Yes, but we will want to learn more tomorrow!”  As he dismisses the men, each of the six men comes up to me and shakes my hand and say something—Haviv translates it as “Thank you!”

 

 

19

 

After the wrestling lesson, I go into the barracks, carrying my uniform.  I look around for water and a basin so I can wash off some of the sweat.  I find them, wash, and put my uniform back on.  It’s getting close to sunset.  I go outside the barracks, looking for Haviv.

 

“I take you to Jonathan,” he says.  I smile and say, “Thank you.  I have no idea where I am.”  He laughs and says, “Jerusalem can be confuse to stranger.”

 

We walk through city streets, mainly uphill.  Actually, we’re not that far from the palace, but we don’t go in the main gate.  Haviv takes me to a side gate.  We go through two soldiers standing guard.  He says, “After your lesson, more soldiers will want learn.  You be busy!”  I smile and say that’s OK with me.

 

The palace is its own maze of corridors.  Finally, he leads me to an open door and shows me inside.

 

Jonathan is even more impressive out of uniform.   He’s got a good, strong body with some muscle. He’s dressed in a rather regal robe.  Then I remember he will take this robe and put it on David—a symbol of his acceptance of David’s becoming future king—and a move which will enrage Jonathan’s father, Saul.  Now I’m navigating politics as well as religion.  I need to be careful.

 

Jonathan comes to me and shakes my hand.  “I’ve already heard about the big, muscular Greek who gives excellent wrestling lessons!”  He puts his hand on my shoulder.  “But I’d still like to hear your report!”

 

“Well, first, I’m impressed by the speed of gossip among your soldiers!”  Jonathan laughs.  “You have no idea!  We Hebrews didn’t invent gossip, but I swear, we’ve made it a science!”  He leads me over to a big oak table, already spread with food: roast lamb, some mashed veg, apples, pears, figs and dates and a thin—I guess unleavened—bread.

 

We sit down.  He lifts up his goblet of wine and says, “To your continued success!”  I reply, “And thank you for all your help!”  The wine is excellent.  I chuckle a little.  Jonathan asks, “What’s amusing?”

 

“I was remembering something my Greek friend in Gath said: the Philistines aren’t creative; they stole their iron forges from the Hittites; their wine-making from the Hebrews, and their olive groves from the Canaanites.”  Jonathan chuckles and says, “You have an astute friend!”  We both slice and then eat a bite of lamb.

 

“I’m curious: what brings a big, muscular Greek to Jerusalem, asking about fighting Philistines?”

 

OK: he wants my story:  “In Athens, I heard that there was this big Philistine named Goliath.  My friends said I couldn’t beat him; I said I could.  So I got on a boat, manned the oars from Athens to Cyprus and then to Ashkelon.  I helped a merchant whose cart had a bum wheel get to Gath, and there I ran into Orion, my Greek friend.  He showed me how Goliath liked to have contests, where he would lift up a big stone block and dare any man or men to lift it up—and none of them could.  But I did.   So a guy in a red robe—who was a priest of Dagon—offered me a goblet of wine to celebrate and I foolishly drank it.  I woke up naked and chained before a statue of Dagon; the priest was milking my cock for my cum.  After he got my cum, the priest spilled it on the altar before Dagon, and Goliath impaled my ass on his big cock—several times.  When he was done, he knocked me out.”

 

“Good Lord!” says Jonathan. “No wonder you want to fight Philistines!”

 

I smile and say, “But there’s more: My friend Orion found me naked and drugged outside of town; he helped me get to his house, where he took care of me.  And then, with his help, in a couple days, I went to Goliath’s house in the middle of the night and fucked him—as brutally as I could.  Then Orion and I kissed farewell and he went to Ashkelon and I came here.”  I smile.  “And there’s just a bit more: I got lost on my way here and fell asleep behind a boulder near Bethlehem.  I was awakened by the singing of a beautiful young man, a shepherd.  I didn’t know the language, but his voice was beautiful.”

 

“Ah yes!” Jonathan smiles.  “You must have heard David the shepherd boy!  He’s very devout.  He came here to sing for my troubled father—a beautiful voice in a beautiful young man.”

 

And now I’m thinking, “Just how much does Jonathan love David?  And is this a brotherly or an erotic love?”  The questions are too big—I push them aside. 

 

“That is some story.”  Jonathan looks around; I follow his eye and notice a serving boy slipping out a nearby door.  “And, given that this is Jerusalem, and that a serving boy just heard your story, it will spread through the ranks of our soldiers and into the general population—before tomorrow morning!”

 

We both chuckle.  I say, “Well, I admit it’s a pretty good story!”

 

“And more than enough motive for you to come here and be willing to fight Philistines.”  He pauses.  We’re finishing up the lamb and now eating some fruit.  “I’ll make sure that you are attached to my squad.  I can always say that I need your muscles for protection.”  He chuckles.  I chuckle—but that’s exactly where I want to be—close to Jonathan means I’ll also be close to David when he takes on Goliath.

 

 

20

 

“But,” I say, “I have a question—if you don’t mind.”

 

“Of course—please feel free!”

 

I swallow and look more closely at Jonathan: “I’ve just told you a story about being fucked by Goliath and fucking Goliath—and I’ve mentioned that I kissed my friend Orion.  Now, men loving other men is common among us Greeks—but I understand it is not allowed among the Hebrews.  Will I have to control myself?”

 

Jonathan nods and sort of smiles: “Yes, I’m aware that men loving other men is common among Greeks and it is not accepted among us.  So, yes, if you find one of your wrestling students attractive, you should control yourself.”  He looks down for a moment,  “But I think and hope we can be accepting of other people’s customs.”  He looks down again, “And it’s not hard to see that the Lord gave beauty to some men as well as to women.”  He pauses again, “But I have a question for you.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Have you ever lain with a woman?  Do you really prefer lying with men rather than with women?”

 

I smile and say, “I appreciate your directness.  Yes, I’ve had sex with women, but I prefer men.”  I consider how far I should go, and I decide to trust him: “I just like the feel of a man’s body: his muscles, his power.  A woman is usually passive and her body is not firm.  I like the struggle with a man.  I usually let him fuck me because I love giving other men pleasure.  Goliath, of course, was an exception!”  I smile and chuckle.  So does Jonathan.

 

He smiles: “I must say I am surprised.  I thought with all your muscles, you would want to dominate and not let another man dominate you.”

 

I can’t let this go: “But it’s not about domination—it’s about pleasure.”

 

He nods and says, “I stand corrected.”  He pauses, looks down and says, “I will be honest with you; I have thought about lying with another man—a beautiful man, a man as beautiful as David.  But I see me as dominant.  I guess I’m still seeing things through the eyes of a man who has only lain with women.”

 

I nod and say, “I can see how that can affect how you see men loving other men.”  Now I pause, look down, and then look up with a little grin: “And I can easily see how a man could be attracted to David—he’s a beautiful boy.”

 

And then Jonathan sighs, looks away dreamily and says, “He certainly is!”  But then he collects himself and says, “Thank you for your honesty and forthrightness in our conversation.”  He takes a sip of wine. “But tell me, how did you find your wrestling students, and what are your plans for further lessons?”

 

I have the vague impression that a possible moment has passed, but he did ask me here to talk about  my wrestling students.  “They were very good students.  I was surprised by the strength of some of the thinner men—the ones who stayed in uniform.  They had an intensity which surprised me.  The more muscular guys—the ones who stripped—were fast learners.”  I pause and look away for a moment.  “I think the next lesson will be about getting back up once you’re knocked down.  I once had a friend who had many fights—he said that was the most important lesson in fighting: how to get back up.”  And I momentarily remember Herc and a sudden warm feeling floods over me.

 

“That sounds excellent!”  Jonathan looks around. “I’ll be honest with you.  We Hebrews are a bookish people: we grow up learning to read and dispute and argue.  Too many of us are unaware of the power in our bodies.  If you can awaken our soldiers to the power in their bodies, I will be forever grateful!”

 

“It will be my pleasure—anything to help you defeat the Philistines!”

 

Supper is over; our conversation is over.  Jonathan gets up from the table, so do I.  He puts his arm around my shoulders—and it occurs to me that he really does like feeling my muscles—and takes me to the door.  At the door, we shake hands, but I’m not satisfied: I lean in for a little kiss on his cheek.  He smiles and pats me on my shoulder again and sends me off with a soldier, with instructions to take me back to the barracks.

 

On the whole, a very successful supper: a decent meal; I found out that Jonathan is an honest man; I can trust him.  And I found out he loves David—and not just that platonic love that I learned about in Sunday School.  And I got attached to Jonathan’s cavalry—which means Ill be close enough to help David when he confronts Goliath.

 

 

21

 

At the next wrestling lesson, I am faced with more than twice the number of soldiers—and about half of those already have their uniforms off.  This means that I have to do some quick thinking.  So I have each of the original soldiers pair up with a new guy and teach him the arm-behind-the-back hold.  I take on three new guys and teach each of them—or try to; I’m pretty direct and fast about it, and Captain Haviv has to translate and even help show the hold a couple of times.  But, given that the number of soldiers is greater, I think we—Haviv and I—do rather well.

 

Then comes the new lesson: getting back up.  I ask Haviv to explain this clearly and slowly.  I’ll be putting the guys on their butts, their backs—they might think that I’m trying to punish them.  I ask for a volunteer and my first volunteer from last time—Ephraim, I learn is his name—comes forward.  I have Haviv explain to him again what’s going to happen.  Ephraim runs at me; I trip him and he lands on his face.  Then I have him come at me again and I put my arm out; he runs into it, and he lands on his butt.  Both times, I help him up and give him a little pat on his shoulder.  I want to kiss him, but I keep myself from doing it.  I tell Haviv to tell him that he has done well—because he got up immediately.  Then comes my lecture:

 

“The most important thing in any fight is to get up once you’ve been knocked down.  Everyone gets knocked down—even me.”  When Haviv gets to this part, some of the men laugh; they don’t believe it.  So I stop the lecture and ask three guys from the “old” students to come at me.  They knock me down—two of them use my own “strong-arm” move against me; I chuckle—and I’m glad to see that they do too—so I then say, “See?  Even I can get knocked down.  But the most important thing is that you get back up.  No fight is decided because you got knocked down.  A wrestling match can be decided that way—but not a fight.  Do you understand?”  Fifteen guys nod very seriously.  

 

“So,” I say, “each of you are going to come at me and I’m going to knock you down.  And then you’re going to get back up.  And then I’m going to knock you down again.  And you’re going to get back up again.  Do you understand?”  Another fifteen nods.

 

And that’s pretty much what happens: they come at me individually and I knock them down; they come back at me, I knock them down—and then I help them up and give them a hug and a pat on their back.  In the distance I see Jonathan looking at the lesson and smiling.

 

And after the lesson, once again each of the men comes to shake my hand and say ‘Thank you!”  But some of the older guys also give me a hug and a pat on my back.  

 

It was a pretty intense lesson.  I am tired.  I go into the barracks and wash off.  Captain Haviv soon finds me.  “Tonight is Shabbat.  I would be honored if you would come to my house and share Shabbat dinner with my family.”  I know what this means, so I bow and say I would be honored to come with him.  After I wash, I put my uniform back on.

 

Captain Haviv has a small house not too far from the barracks.  And he has a pretty wife and three kids: two boys and a girl.  When we enter the house—and of course, Haviv puts his hand to the mezuzah and then kisses his hand—he’s barely inside the door when his three kids are all over him.  He pats his sons, but he picks up his daughter.  Then he talks to the kids; I hear my name, 

“Chilon” in the middle of a string of Hebrew words that ends with “Shabbat”.

 

And then Haviv’s wife, Nava, comes out to greet and kiss her husband.  She calls him “Elon” and says something which I can’t help thinking is about how big I am.  She gives me a kiss; I smile and blush.  Then she gives me a skullcap which I put on.  And suddenly I notice that Elon and the boys also have skullcaps on.

 

Meanwhile, the two boys decide that my arms are trees they can climb—they’re all over me.  And since I smile, I guess I encourage it.  I stretch out my arms for the boys to hang on.  The older one does a pull-up.  They’re Elon’s boys—short and stocky and strong.  Soon I have one on my back, and the smaller one hanging on my leg.  Elon looks at me and says, “I see you like children!  I hope you don’t mind—they think you’re a mountain they have to climb!”

 

“I like kids,” I say as I remove the hands of the older boy from around my neck, “as long as they’re not trying to choke me!”   Elon says something to Elud.  Ehud moves his hands to my shoulders;  I guess I just became a horse for him to ride.  But I reach up and soon have Ehud in my hands, throwing him a little ways up in the air.  Soon his brother, Ethan, wants in on the action.  But after throwing each boy three times, I look over at Elon and he says something to the boys—and they drop off me.  Then Elon comes close to me and says, “I told them you were big and strong, and they immediately wanted to jump on you.  I hope you don’t mind!”  

 

‘No,” I said, “But I would like to sit down!”  “Certainly,” and Elon shows me to a chair.  But the boys stand nearby; soon I feel their hands on my shoulders.  I feel like I’m an adopted older brother. Meanwhile, Elon’s daughter, Ruth, the youngest, simply sits in her father’s arms and stares at me.  Nava is in the kitchen, singing something.

 

At one end of the big room is a table.  I see three candles on it, and a couple of loaves of bread covered by a cloth.  And there’s a silver goblet nearby.  I had attended a Shabbat dinner back in Kansas (yes, there are Jews in Kansas!) and now I’m struck by how similar the candles, bread and goblet are to those I saw in my time.  

 

We gather around the table.  Elon shows me where I am to sit, and he smiles that I know enough not to sit down immediately.  The boys gather round Elon; he holds Ruth, and Nava comes out of the kitchen.  She lights the candles, hides her eyes and says a prayer; then little Ruth lights a separate, little candle—and I imagine Elon is very proud to have enough money to afford not only Shabbat candles but also a candle for his daughter.  Then Elon pours wine into the goblet, lifts up the goblet and says a prayer.  

 

And then we can sit down.  And Nava disappears, soon to bring out a roasted chicken and some vegetables.  When she sits, Elon takes one of the loaves of bread, tears off a piece, dips it in salt and eats it; then he tears off more pieces and hands them around to everyone around the table.  

 

“This bread,” he says, “reminds us of our Lord feeding us when we came from Egypt.”  I nod—I knew this but I can’t very well say that I went to a Shabbat in Greece.  There are no Jews in Greece and won’t be until after the Romans conquer Jerusalem and the diaspora happens.  So I decide that a respectful silence is my best move.

 

But silence helps me and soon the family is any family having a meal.  Nava says something.  Elon tells me, “She wants to know what you are teaching our soldiers.”  She says this as Elon is slicing up the chicken and then giving a piece to me and then other pieces to the kids.

 

“Please tell her I’m teaching them some wrestling moves, but also a little about how to fight—specially how to get up after they’ve been knocked down.”   Elon speaks to Nava.  She nods.

 

Then she says something else to Elon.  He laughs and turns to me, “She says you look like you could never be knocked down!”  I can’t help smiling.

 

Elon rattles off a lot of Hebrew to his wife, while gently smiling.  Then he turns to me and says, “I told her you are smart: you had three men attack you and knock you down.  You showed that any man could be knocked down.  You are an excellent teacher!”  He says this last part with a big smile; I smile and blush a little.  Ehud and Ethan look at me as if I’m a hero.  If their dad likes me, then I must be!

 

After supper, we are back in the living area.  Elon says, “I have to warn you—nothing happens tomorrow.  A few soldiers on guard duty, but on the Sabbath, everything shuts down.  It’s a day of rest.”

 

I don’t do “rest”, so I say, “Can I take a walk?  Or ride a horse?”

 

“Take a walk, yes, but riding a horse is too much like work.  The stables will be closed, so if you take out a horse, someone will think you’re a thief.”  I look closely at him; it seems a bit extreme and I’m hoping he’s making a joke.  But he isn’t.  

 

“OK,” I say, “a walk it is.”  Then I have a thought:  “Can I walk around without a tunic on, like I would do in Greece?”

 

Elon scratches his beard.  “Well, since you are a Greek, I can’t see anyone being that upset.  But a Hebrew could not do it—and it would be better if you had on a tunic.”

 

“OK, I say again.  “Then a smelly tunic it is.  I want to walk down to the southwest and look at possible battle terrain, for when the Philistines come.”

 

“Well, that is work, even though it’s very useful and needed work.”  He thinks again.  “You know, maybe you should go up to the palace and ask to see Jonathan.  I imagine he would be very interested in such information.  And since you’re a Greek—“ and he grins.  It must be exhausting, being a Hebrew and living with religious restrictions, and trying to find ways around them!

 

“Then that’s what I’ll do.”  I get up.  Elon calls to Nava.  She comes out of the kitchen.  I give her a kiss.  Then I pick up each of the boys and give them a kiss.  I wave “bye-bye” to Ruth.  Elon gets a big hug and a heart-felt “Thank you for inviting me to Shabbat supper!”  And I’m out the door, on my way to the palace.

 

 

22

 

There’s a guard at the side door to the palace.   I say “Jonathan” since I don’t know any other Hebrew.  He turns and goes inside.  I wait outside for a while, walking up and down, kicking stones in the street.  The guard reappears and motions for me to follow him—good, because I have no idea how to find my way in the warren of corridors.

 

Jonathan greets me at his dining room door: “I thought you were having Shabbat supper with Elon and his family!”

 

“I did—and the boys climbed all over me.  But after supper, Elon was explaining how everything shuts down tomorrow.  But since I won’t be giving wrestling lessons, I’d like to walk or ride down to the southwest, to look at places where the Philistines might come—“

 

“And to find the best places for defense!”  Jonathan knows exactly where I’m going.  He paces a little.  “I’m going to have to call the court rabbi and ask him.”  He motions to a servant boy to come over, whispers in his ear and the boy goes off.  “If it were just up to me, you’d be on a horse tomorrow at dawn.  But I will need to ask our rabbi for his blessing.”

 

Soon a white-bearded man appears at a further door.  He says something in Hebrew which seems to be, “You require my assistance, my prince?”

 

Jonathan goes up to the rabbi, bows and says, in Greek, “Yes, rabbi.  I would like you to meet Chilon.  He is Greek.  He has been training our soldiers in wrestling and combat.  He’s an excellent teacher.  And he has no love for the Philistines.”  The rabbi bows to me; I return the bow.

 

“Chilon has an idea; he would like to ride out tomorrow toward our southwest.  We think an attack by the Philistines is imminent.  He wants to look over the hills and valleys to see where the Philistines might come, and—“

 

“Where our best defense would be!”  I do like how smart these Hebrews are!  The rabbi turns away from Jonathan and me.  He seems to be muttering something; he might be praying.  He turns back.

 

“Torah is our light and the light of Israel.  But this man is Greek, so he is under no obligation to fulfill the requirements of Sabbath.”  But I raise my hand a little, so the rabbi says, “Yes, my son?”

 

“But I did attend a Shabbat supper tonight—does that count?”  The rabbi smiles.  “It shows your heart is good, so yes, it counts!”  He turns back to Jonathan:  

 

“Let this man ride out and see where the Philistine attack might come.  Because he’s Greek, Torah does not forbid it, and I’m sure the Lord would want his people to know where they can best defend Israel.”

 

Jonathan is all smiles.  He takes the rabbi’s hands in his own and thanks him.  He sits down and writes notes on parchment; then he calls to his servant and says something.  He tells me, “This man will take you to the stables and give the stable master this note.  It lets you have one of my horses—the bay—and you can take her out tomorrow so that you can find the best place for us to defend ourselves against the Philistines.”

 

I go to Jonathan, hug him and say “Thank you!” and I say the same to the rabbi.  Then I go with the servant, through several corridors, then out of the palace and over to the stables.  The stable master is surprised—at first, at me, I think, but then by the note.  He takes me to the bay and shows me the horse.  He speaks Hebrew, so I have no idea what he’s saying.  I say “Hellene” and point to myself. 

He nods and points to the horse and then points to the stable door.  I gather that the horse will be at the stable door tomorrow morning.

 

I’m alone that night in the barracks.  I find my old tunic and find some water to wash it with; I hang it over a chair.  In this arid climate, it will be dry by morning.   All the other men are at home for Shabbat.  It’s peaceful. 

 

In the morning, I get up; the tunic is dry.  I go to the stables and find the bay.  I lead her out of the stables, mount and ride out of Jerusalem.

 

 

23

 

I ride most of the way towards Gath.  I stop about a mile from Gath because I see an army coming out of the gate.  I ride back toward Jerusalem, stopping every now and then to look back at the route the Philistines might be taking, and the best place for defense.  I also have to consider that Jonathan won’t be able to get his army together until tomorrow.  So that means the best hill for defense has to be closer to Jerusalem.

 

I know it’s still the Sabbath, but I ride all the way back to Jerusalem, put the bay back in the stables and then I run to the palace.  I say the magic word—“Jonathan”—to the guard and hope the urgency in my face conveys how critical the moment is.

 

I actually pass the guard, and I amaze myself by remembering the correct turns to get to Jonathan.  But he’s not in the dining room.  So I call out, “Jonathan! They’re coming now!”

 

Immediately he appears, putting on his royal robe:  “What?”

 

“The Philistine army is marching out of Gath now—I saw them with my own eyes.  They are marching up the valley towards Jerusalem.  Is there any way we can muster the army on the Sabbath?”

 

Jonathan says something to his servant.  The servant runs out of the room.  Soon the chief rabbi appears.  Jonathan talks in Greek: “Chilon says the Philistine army is already on the march.  Is there a way Torah will allow me to muster the army today?”

 

This sends the rabbi into deep thought.  He turns and mutters to himself—for a while.  Then he turns back and says, in Greek, “No, you can’t muster the army today.  But you can prepare for the muster.  You can send soldiers to all your soldiers with this message: “The Philistines are marching against us.  You must present yourself in full combat gear tomorrow at dawn in the main city square.  Tomorrow we march to defend Israel.”

 

It’s rather brilliant.  It’s not a muster, but it’s the next best thing: using a few soldiers to warn the whole army to prepare for a march against the Philistines.  Jonathan understands how ingenious it is.  He smiles and thanks the rabbi.  The rabbi, however, comes over to me: “I want to thank you, my son, for doing what you have done.  You have saved Israel.  You are a light to the generations!”  And he kisses my cheek.

 

Meanwhile, Jonathan has been writing on a parchment.  He sends the parchment with a servant out one door.  Then he sends another servant out another door.  Soon, guardsmen begin appearing at the doors.  Jonathan welcomes them in.  He explains the situation—all in Hebrew, of course.  Soon, little parchment scrolls start appearing in the arms of a couple of servants from the other door.  These little scrolls Jonathan hands out to his guardsmen.  He talks to the captain of the guards and points to various parts of Jerusalem.  The captain nods; he turns to the guardsmen, starts calling their names and giving what seems to be the names of soldiers; then he gives them the little scrolls and pointing them to the various sections of Jerusalem.

 

It takes a minute or two, but I catch on: The palace guardsmen are to convey the scrolls with the message from the rabbi.  They have a scroll to read—and to show, if a soldier wants to see proof.  It’s not exactly email, but it’s not bad for 1000 BCE.

 

“So now all we can do is wait,” Jonathan says.  “But not quite.”  He speaks to another servant; the servant leaves and comes back with a large scroll.  Jonathan unwraps it on his dining table.  It’s a map of the area.  “Show me where you think they will come at us and where you think we should meet them.”

 

The next hour is spent in talking about various defensive positions.  It’s the sabbath; we’re doing work—but I think Jonathan is sure the rabbi would say it’s allowed.  Meanwhile, the captain of the palace guard is standing by, offering his opinions and receiving reports from his guardsmen as they come in from delivering their message to the soldiers.  Apparently everything is going to plan.  

 

We settle on a hillside almost a day’s march from Jerusalem, but we have a back-up position, a hill a little nearer to the city, in case the Philistine march is fast.  It’s sundown.  Everyone has to leave to go light another candle, for the end of the Sabbath.  But that doesn’t take long and soon Jonathan is back—and supper is served.

 

Over a beef roast, I ask if any of the guardsmen have been sent to Bethlehem or other surrounding towns.  “Yes, they have,” then Jonathan looks at me and say, “You’re wondering if David will be there.  I doubt it.  His brothers might, since they are old enough to answer the call.”  And then I remember—David will be there, delivering food to his brothers.  I can’t stifle a smile.

 

“Do you know something I should know?”

 

I can’t help thinking, “A Scout is trustworthy—he tells the truth.”  So I swallow some beef and say, “Jonathan, I am from the future and know what will happen.  David will bring food to his brothers—and he will be there when Goliath makes his challenge.  David will accept the challenge.”

 

“What?  But he’s just a boy!”  

 

“True, but he’s also the Lord’s servant and he will fight Goliath—and he will slay him.”  I look at Jonathan and see astonishment on his face.  “I know, it sounds unlikely, but you are about to enter into a time of legend.  The story of David defeating Goliath will echo down through the ages.  It’s a story about outmatched good overcoming great evil.”  I see even more astonishment on Jonathan’s face.  I smile.

 

“Were you thinking I would slay Goliath?”  Jonathan, unable to speak, nods.  “I would like to, but I respect the story of David and Goliath too much—I’m just here to support David, to help him see it through—and not give any obvious help.  He must not see me as an angel helping him.  He must do it.”

 

“Then he is loved by the Lord.”

 

“Yes, he is.”  I look at Jonathan closely and say, “And I know he’s also loved by you.”  Jonathan looks down and blushes.  “Yes, you’re right.  He’s just so beautiful.  I’m struggling with my feelings for him.”

 

“I know.   But love is always love.  I believe you will find a way to show your love for him and not scare him with physical love—David will only lie with women—and it will get him in trouble later in his life.”

 

Jonathan laughs.  “Sometimes I think the Lord gave us sex simply to complicate our lives!”  He laughs again.  “And then sometimes I think you Greeks have it right—just lie with anyone you want to.”  

 

Now I laugh.  “Well,” I say, “Sex for us is pretty simple: you like someone and have sex with them.”  But I’m glad he can laugh about it.  He doesn’t know it—and I won’t tell him—but his days are already numbered.  He must show David his love for him—a love which he can never fulfill.  I love the guy; I wouldn’t want his life; his future is short.   But I hope I’ve helped him, even if just a little.

 

Supper over, I hug and kiss Jonathan and tell him I love the bay and will ride with him tomorrow.  He says, “Good!  I will see you tomorrow.”  And I show myself out.

 

When I get back to the barracks after sundown, I see some of the men are already there.  Elon is also there, checking on his men.  He asks me if I talked with Jonathan.  I tell him I got permission from the court rabbi to ride out and scout the land toward Gath.  And that I saw the Philistines coming.

 

Elon asks me, “Are they many?”

 

“Yes.  But we have the Lord on our side.”

 

Elon looks at me.  But then he smiles.

 

 

24

 

The next morning, Jonathan’s army is together and ready to go.  He leads them out of Jerusalem and toward the southwest.  We are joined by late-arriving soldiers from various towns, including Bethlehem.  Jonathan makes a point of welcoming them; he knows the two oldest, Eliab and Abinadab, and soon I hear the names of the others: Shimea, Nethanel, Raddai and Ozem.  That’s a lot of brothers.  That Jesse is willing to send all of them to help Jonathan speaks either to his patriotism or to his fear of the Philistines ransacking the countryside.

 

The army marches on.  We get to the hillside Jonathan selected last night.  Tents are set up.  The men settle down.  Sentries are posted.  A lookout is established.  The dust cloud from the Philistines is getting closer.  And we can hear the stomping of their marching feet.

 

David shows up.  He has food for his brothers.  Jonathan welcomes him, casting a glance at me as if to say, “It’s starting to happen as you said!”

 

And then there’s a white flag carried by a small group of Philistines.  They are escorted to Jonathan’s tent.  David is still there.  His brothers have been sent for, to pick up their food.

 

The Philistine messenger says something—but I have no idea what.  Jonathan turns to me and whispers, “It’s as you said.  Goliath has challenged us to sent our best warrior to fight him.”  He looks around and says something to the assembled soldiers.  Suddenly, it seems like the ground is fascinating—all these strong men are looking at it.  David’s brothers arrive.

 

Jonathan calls out—I suppose he’s asking for a volunteer to face Goliath.  He points to himself.  All of the men around him shake their heads and say “No!”   I assume they’re saying he’s needed to lead them—which he is.  

 

And then the legend starts.  David steps forward, goes up to Jonathan and speaks.  David’s brothers laugh and say things that sound like “No!”  But David insists.  He even seems to lapse into poetry.  I look at Jonathan—he’s even more in love with the boy.  I wonder if it’s his greater muscle, but it’s probably his simple faith.  Jonathan looks around at his soldiers, then at me and then down at the ground.  And he gives his approval.

 

David launches into a psalm of praise.  His brothers are shocked.  They try to talk him out of it.  But David cannot be moved—he will do this.  He is given armor, a spear, a shield and he walks off.  

 

Jonathan turns to me and says, “Everything you said would happen is happening!”  He is amazed.  “Now, how can I help you help him?”

 

“Let me go, on foot.  I will be far behind David—so he can’t see me.  I will find a bush or boulder to hide behind and from there I can help him.”  Jonathan nods and says, “Go!”

 

I run out of the camp.  I see David walking toward a hill midway between the Philistine army and the Hebrew camp.  And I see Goliath—can’t miss him—coming out of the Philistine army with four other guys; they’re all carrying spears.  Goliath goes to the top of the hill; the other four guys stick their spears in the hillside around Goliath.

 

David walks toward the bottom of the hillside.  He suddenly puts down his shield, sticks his spear in the ground, takes off his armor and turns toward a nearby stream.  He goes to the stream and selects some stones; he tests them in his sling.  I am kneeling very quietly behind some bushes on the other side of the stream.

 

David approaches Goliath.  Goliath and his four buddies laugh.  Then a laugh rises like the roar of the sea from the Philistine army.  Goliath points at David and laughs some more.  He picks up a spear and throws it at David.  David ducks to avoid it and he keeps walking toward Goliath.

 

When he gets close enough, David puts a fist-sized stone in his sling and starts whirling the sling.  I watch closely.  As he releases the stone, I send a powerful and focused gust of wind behind the stone.

 

The stone hits Goliath in his helmet, crashes through his helmet and into his skull.  Blood gushes from his head.  He tries reaching for his head but can’t—he’s already falling down.  He hits the ground with a thud that can be heard both by the Philistines and the Hebrews.  The Hebrew camp erupts in cheers and shouts for “David!  David!”

 

My work here is done, but I stay a bit longer.  Goliath’s four friends have run back to the Philistine camp.  I watch David go up to Goliath, pick up the brute’s huge sword and bring it down on Goliath’s neck.  Then he picks up the bloody head and shows it to the Hebrew camp.  More cheers and shouts of “David!  David!”  And now it’s time for me to speed over to one boulder, another boulder, and soon I’m back at Jonathan’s tent.

 

David brings Goliath’s head to Jonathan’s tent, cheered and applauded the whole way.  Jonathan bows to him, then turns to his captains and says what I figure out is “We need to chase the Philistines back to Gath.”  Soon I’m back on top of the durable bay and we’re charging after the fleeing Philistines.

 

My bay is too fast: I soon find myself surrounded by Philistines.  Five of them jump on me and pull me off my horse.  I find myself surrounded by Philistines, so I start swinging my sword; then I take a sword from a falling Philistine and start swinging two swords.  I find myself hating Philistines, their love of power, their boring lives.  I’m killing a lot, while they can’t even get their swords to cut my skin.  After I kill a dozen, the others run off.  I get back on my horse and join the charge, swinging my sword at retreating Philistines.

 

We chase them all the way back to Gath.  Then Jonathan has his man sound the shofar, assembles his army and we ride back to Jerusalem.  Someone gave David a horse and he’s riding with us into the city.  He has a big bloody bag on the side of his horse.  On the steps of the palace, King Saul welcomes his son and David gives Saul the head of Goliath.

 

But of course, all of the cheers are for David.  The city is delirious with the news.  Jonathan hugs and kisses David as the head of Goliath lies at the feet of King Saul.  Saul applauds—but already I figure Jonathan knows his father will fear David—and that may be why Jonathan is being so open in his praise of the young man.  I know it won’t do much good, but I love that Jonathan tries.

 

I have to get to Jonathan to say a proper goodbye.  It won’t be easy.  A victory such as this will mean feasting and parades and he’ll be at the center of it—along with David.  I assume that later tonight he’ll put his royal robe on David—another part of the legend.  His expression of how much he loves the boy; his covenant.  But I need to be going.  

 

I follow Jonathan and David up the steps of the palace.   Jonathan sees me at the side of the steps.  When I get to him I say, “I need to be leaving now.  I have done what I promised I would do.  Please give Elon my fondest farewell.  You are doing your best for David—watch out for your father.”  He looks over at his father and then nods.  He turns to me: “You have given us so much!  I want to give you the bay horse.  It’s the least I can do!  Maybe she will help you to get to Ashkelon and back to Greece!”  I smile and say thank you and that I’m honored.  I give him a kiss and a hug and say goodbye.

 

 

25

 

I ride the bay through people celebrating in the streets of Jerusalem.  I figure the horse might be worth something—as a present for Orion.  I ride out from Jerusalem toward Gath.  The fields before Gath are littered with the corpses of Philistine soldiers.  Some women are searching for their sons, brothers, fathers.  I avoid Gath and keep riding toward Ashkelon.  When I get near the city, I realize I have no idea where Orion is.  So I tie the bay to a tree and fly up over the city.  It’s twilight.  I look down with x-ray vision, looking in the center of town and toward the port.  I see someone who looks a little like Orion—after all, he’s more muscular than most men—so I fly lower, then lower.  I land behind him as he’s walking along a street.

 

“Hello, beautiful!”  I say, and he turns to me and falls into my arms.  I say, “I have a present for you!”  But he says, “You’re present enough!  Come here, you stud!”  And he puts his hands around my face and plants a huge kiss on my lips.  Ooh, it feels so good!  It feels like freedom after days of rabbinical rules!  I break and say, “No—I have a real present!”  And I hug him to me and lift off.

 

I take him outside of town to the bay.  By this time, it’s dark.  He can barely see the horse.  But I put the reins in his hand and say, “She’s yours.  Jonathan, prince of Israel, gave her to me for my help in defeating the Philistines.  David has slain Goliath!”

 

“So he did it!  And did you help?”

 

“Yeah; I sent a gust a of wind that made the stone hit Goliath with such force it shattered his head.”

 

“Good!”  Orion has the reins in his hands.  He’s leading the bay into the city.  I guess no one notices that I have an Israeli uniform on.  But then, it is dark.

 

“Can you stay at least for the night?”  I kiss him and say, “How’s that for an answer?”  I see his teeth smiling in the dark.  We keep walking; Orion says he knows a stables and he has enough money with him to keep the horse there for a while.  Once he pays the stable master, we head toward his house—arms around each other’s shoulders.

 

But I ask that we get something to eat first.  At his house I strip off my Israeli uniform and only have on my tunic—it’s smelly, but then I have been in a battle!   Orion gets one of his own tunics.  It’s snug but it shows off my pecs.  Orion smiles and says, “You always look good in my clothes!”

 

We go to the tavern with the really good lamb.  It’s great being with him, but once again I feel strange in the land of the Philistines.  The Hebrews are smart, even if they have more rules than they need.  The Philistines are just so disappointing as a people.

 

But the lamb is good, and Orion is wonderful.  After supper, we go back to his house and fuck and fuck and fuck.  And it all feels great!  And after the release of a lot of pent up sexual tension—I gather for both of us—we fall asleep in each other’s arms.  It’s almost home.

 

The next morning, we have some bread and honey and fruit at the tavern and then go back to his house.  It’s not easy saying this goodbye.  He cries; I cry.  We kiss and hug—a lot.  But then I say a final goodbye, go out in the street, look around and then leap up.  I fly back to Greece, to Piraeus; I find the big boulder where I stored my uniform, move the boulder, and whirl into the uniform, storing my tunic and loincloth and sandals in my cape.  Then I leap up again.

 

Around the world again—so many times.  I land back in Bruce’s back yard.  And the boys are still doing gymnastics off the diving board.

 

“You weren’t gone long!”  Bruce says as he kisses me.  “Hmm,” I say, “maybe I whirled around the world one too many times!”

 

But Carlos and Dick are soon hugging me.  “What’s with the beard?” Dick says.

 

“The beard is so I could fit in with the Philistines and Israelis—all the men have beards and so very few of them care for their bodies!”  Then I look at the boys, “You like the beard?  Hate it?”

 

“Hate it!” Carlos says.  “I want you back.”

 

“I’ll be right back.”  I rush into the house, find a mirror and burn off my beard.  Carlos is right—I look more like me.  But I also whirl out of my uniform and put the snug tunic back on, pulling at it so it tears and shows a bit more of my pecs—I smile to myself: something to get Bruce interested.  Then I go back outside.  

 

Carlos nods and says, “Thanks!”   And Bruce comes over to me, gives me a hug and says, “And thanks for the tunic and showing your pecs, sexy!”   I sit on the grass.

 

Then Dick says, “So, did you fuck Goliath?”  And Carlos adds, “Did you let go?”

 

“Yes to the first; and sort of to the second—I didn’t want to kill the giant; David had to do that.  So, no I didn’t completely let go.  But I still didn’t like even getting close to letting go.”

 

“Really?” Dick asks.  And Carlos looks confused.

 

“It’s not me.”  I see Bruce smiling broadly.  He says, “Of course it’s not you!  Once you were gone, I told the boys that you wouldn’t like it.  It’s not who you are!”  He comes back to me, helps me up and gives me a huge kiss.  When he breaks he says, “It’s not my Boy Scout!”  And we both chuckle.

 

But both boys look confused.  “But how can you not like letting go?”

 

“Because when I fuck someone I love, I want to give them pleasure.  It felt strange, fucking Goliath.  I hated him—after I lifted his big stone higher than he ever had, and after I was drugged and milked in some Philistine temple to Dagon, Goliath impaled me on his big cock—again and again and again.  So I really did hate him and wanted to fuck him hard and hurt him.  But once I started fucking him, I didn’t like the feeling.  I felt empty.  There was no love—and I guess I’ve—“

 

Bruce finishes for me: “You’ve conditioned yourself to fuck for love.”  And he reaches over and plants another kiss on me.  I kiss him back and say “You know me so well!”

 

Carlos and Dick look at each other and shrug.  Then Carlos says, “OK, so fucking Goliath was a bust.  Was there anything good about this trip?”

 

“Yes, there was Jonathan.  After I fucked Goliath, I went to Jerusalem—with a detour to Bethlehem where I took a nap behind a boulder and was awakened by beautiful singing—sung by a beautiful boy.  It was David.  Beautiful voice.  But I determined that the boy needed more muscle if he was going to kill Goliath.”

 

“So you beat off for him?  How?”  Bruce always wants to know the “How”.

 

“Into his goatskin bag of goat’s milk.  The milk hid the cum and after three jerks—I had to put lambs in various thickets to get the boy away from his goatskin—he got enough so he sank into a sleep and awoke with more muscle.  The first thing he did was check his voice—it was still beautiful.  I imagine he thought God gave him more muscle.”

 

Dick asks, “So why was Jonathan the best part of your trip?”

 

“Because the man really loved David—really smitten with him—but he couldn’t go up to David and say ‘Lets fuck!’  For one thing, Jonathan was prince of Israel—his father Saul was pretty bonkers so Jonathan had to be a great general, to protect his country.  And he had to figure out how to get around rabbinical laws to protect Israel; he had a really smart chief rabbi who helped him with that!  But second, David was devout—the young David was just as devout as the guy who wrote most of the psalms.  This was not the horny David always screwing someone else’s wife, later in his life.  This was David the hammer of God who slew Goliath.”  I pause remembering young David, so full of faith.  

 

“So Jonathan was caught, and I loved how careful he was about his feelings and his politics.  He was, to me, the real hero of the story.  I could tell he loved David, and I loved how he opened up to me about his feelings—but I knew not to encourage him to express those feelings.  He would have to maintain his political position so he could at least provide some protection for David while Saul, Jonathan’s father, got more and more paranoid and tried to kill David.”

 

“Wow!  I didn’t know things were such a political mess back then!”  Carlos exclaimed.

 

“Didn’t you guys learn about David and Jonathan in Sunday school?”

 

“Hey!  I was raised Catholic!  I know more saints than you do, but David and Jonathan—never heard the story!”

 

Then Dick says, “But you did help David kill Goliath, yes?”

 

“Yes.  I told Jonathan the whole story—which he took very well, and as it started to unfold, he just went with it.  I think he was more in love with David as the day went on.  So I got permission to go behind David, hide behind some blushes and boulders, and when David let the stone go, I was able to send a focused blast of wind after it—so that it smashed Goliath’s helmet and his skull.”

 

Carlos asks, “You can do that?”

 

“Yep.  Hand me that stone.”  He does.  I toss it up in the air and then blow it toward a nearby tree.  The stone crashes into a bough of the tree and the bough crashes to the ground.

 

“Wow!”  Carlos says.  “I didn’t know you could do that?”

 

Bruce says, “It’s like I said: This man—“ and he puts his big mitts on my shoulders again—“can kill anyone of us—anytime.”  But then he kisses me and says, “And I love that he keeps control of his awesome power.  Welcome home, my love!”  And once again, I’m in his arms.

 

 

The End