From Satyricon

source:  Penguin Book of International Gay Writing, an orginal story from Petronius, translated by J P Sullivan

When I was taken out to Asia on the paid staff of a treasury official, I accepted some hospitality in Pergamum. I was very pleased to accept this invitation not only because of the elegance of the quarters but also because my host had a very good-looking son, and I thought up a way to prevent his father becoming suspicious of me. Whenever any mention was made at the table of taking advantage of pretty boys, I flared up so violently and I was so stern about my ears being offended by obscene talk that the mother especially regarded me as a real old-world philosopher. From then on I escorted the young lad to the gymnasium, I organised his studies, I taught him and gave him good advice. After all, we didn't want any greedy seducer admitted to the house. 

One holiday, when the celebrations had given him time to play, we were lounging in the dining room, since the long day's enjoyment had made us too lazy to go to bed. About midnight, I realised the boy was awake. So in a very nervous whisper I breathed a prayer.

"Dear Venus", I said, "if I can kiss this boy without his knowing it, I'll give him a pair of doves tomorrow." 

Hearing the price of my pleasure, the boy started snoring, and I therefore went to work on the faker and kissed him several times. Content with this beginning, I rose early next morning and bought him the choice pair of doves he was expecting and fulfilled my vow.

Next night, given the same opportunity, I altered my prayer. 

"If I can run my hands all over him," I said, "without his feeling anything, I'll give him two really savage fighting cocks for his patience." 

At this, the boy moved over to me of his own accord. I think he was getting afraid I might fall asleep. Naturally I dispelled his worries and his whole body became a whirlpool in which I lost myself, although I stopped short of the ultimate pleasure. Then when day came, I bought the delighted boy what I'd promised. 

The third night, he gave me similar licence, and I got up, and close to his ear, as he tossed restlessly, I said, "O eternal gods, if I can get the full satisfaction of my desires from him in his sleep, for this happiness tomorrow I shall give the boy the finest Macedonian thoroughbred -- but with this proviso, only if he feels nothing." 

The lad had never slept so soundly before. First, I filled my hands with his milk-white breasts, then I clung to his lips, and finally I reduced all my longings to one climax. 

In the morning he sat in his room and waited for me to follow my usual practice. Of course, you know how much easier it is to buy doves and cocks than a thoroughbred, and besides, I was nervous in case such an extravagant gift should make my kindness suspect. So after walking around a few hours, I returned to my host's house and gave the boy nothing more than a kiss. He looked round, as he threw his arms about my neck, and said: "Please, sir, where's my thoroughbred?" 

This offence had lost me the headway I had made, nevertheless I returned to my old freedom. A few days later, when a similar chance left us in the same position, hearing the father snoring, I began asking the boy to become friends with me again, and I said all the other things that a strong physical urge dictates. But clearly annoyed, he only said: "Just go to sleep or I'll tell father." 

Nothing is too hard if you're prepared to be wicked. Even while he was saying, "I'll wake father," I slipped into the bed and without much of a fight from him I took my pleasure by force. Actually he was not displeased that I'd been so naughty, and after complaining for a long time that he'd been tricked and that he'd been laughed at and talked about among his school friends because he had boasted to them of my wealth, he said finally: "But you'll see I'm not like you. Do it again, if you wish." 

Well, I was back in the boy's favour with all his hard feelings gone, and after taking advantage of his kindness, I fell asleep. The boy however, being fully mature and of an age very much able to take it, was not content with the repeat performance. He woke me up from my sleep saying: "Don't you want anything?" 

Of course it wasn't a tiresome job yet, so somehow ground between the panting and sweating, he got what he wanted and I fell back asleep, exhausted with passion. Less than an hour later, he began poking me with his hand and saying: "Why aren't we getting on with it?" 

Being woken up so often, I really flared up. I gave him his own back: "Just go to sleep or I'll tell your father."    

Footnotes

None

Addenda

None