The Philosopher's Tool

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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