By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
After the Battle of Corinth, Tyndareus was trudging home, a lone straggler on the path, for his home was a lone house well outside of the walled cities of Greece. He had done his duty and done it well, he had come through the battle unscathed, and though the city-state of Corinth had lost, the victors had only taken their arms and armor and let the soldiers go back to their homes as best they could. Corinth would be heavily penalized for this loss, but it was no longer Tyndareus' problem, he was more concerned with getting home in time to help with the spring planting.
Tyndareus was a well-muscled and rather handsome man in his early twenties, he had black hair, a clean-shaven face (beards were dangerous in battle), his body was a sculpted and well-trained mass of heavy muscles that could and did wear the iron armor breastplate and carry the iron shield and spear as well as a pack of provisions while marching all day long, his skin was the tawny gold of a body that had seen much of the Grecian sun and sky. He was strong and capable, and the trek itself did not concern him, he had no weapons, but he had his chlamys, tunic and sandals, and carried with him two small loaves of bread and a leather sack of water, and his home was but another day's walk away. But the long walk alone was a lonely thing to be borne, though he was fortunate to have escaped with his life and freedom.
What concerned him was the weather, a true "rage of Zeus" was building up and it would soon be a land of wind and rain and lightning and thunder, no place for a man to be walking along unaided. He may well be caught before nightfall at this rate.
Well, there were several caves hereabouts, and he could seek one now while the storm clouds kept their water back. Safe within the earth's welcoming arms, he could wait out the rage of Zeus in relative comfort and safety.
Ah, but when the gods turn their backs on a man, they do not turn back to gaze upon him soon. The storm found him before the cave, and he crawled gratefully up the small rocky hillock as the water fell in heavy sheets upon his body and soaked his woolen tunic through.
He made it into the cave, and it was large enough for him to lie down with a bit of room further, that would do well enough. He disrobed and placed his sandals heel up to let the leather straps dry as much as they would and his soaking wet woolen chlamys and tunic he wrung as dry as he could and then laid them out to sit upon naked and shivering in the coming darkness. He was glad he had gathered a few dry sticks before the rain fell, he had kept them somewhat dry and managed to get a fire going after a time thanks to some pieces of flintstone lying in the cave. Perhaps some prior traveler had sought this cave and left them as a gesture of gratitude to the goddess of the cavern.
He had just made the fire burn well and was beginning to feel warm and safe when he heard a snort and commotion at the mouth of the cave. Into the light of the firelight he saw soon enough that a hairy man was seeking refuge in the cave.
Nay, not a man, a satyr. The horns on his head were wet and dripping onto his forehead, and he snarled as he looked at the man naked and warm. Thick black hair covered his head in a misarranged and poorly cut tangle and the hair began again at his slender, muscled abdominals and covered the entire bottom half of his goatish hindquarters. The body above that was of a strongly muscled if lean-limbed man and the face held a countenance of rage as if this were its accustomed state.
"Welcome, friend satyr," Tyndareus said as calmly as he could. "Pray, come within, take your ease at my fire, and I shall share my bread and water with you, all I have, I ask only for peace in this hour of Zeus' wrath."
The satyr looked at him and there was a subtle shift in his angry features, the face revealed itself to be quite handsome. "Peace be with you, then, until the storm abates and we can part once more."
Tyndareus scooted aside on his tunic and gestured to the space on the tunic that afforded, "You may sit here beside me."
The satyr sat, like a sheep on his haunches instead of like a man, resting his upper body on his hands. Tyndareus carefully did not smile at that, but said, "I am called Tyndareus."
"I am called Krotos." the satyr said.
Tyndareus took out one of his loaves and tore it in half, offered it to Krotos. "Eat, and this pouch only contains water but it is clean and refreshing."
"Water I have had plenty of for a while," Krotos said. Tyndareus laughed and Krotos grinned. Then began a rather amicable interchange. Krotos' view of life and love and other things were just outrageous enough to keep Tyndareus entertained, and Krotos found human customs as hilariously ludicrous.
The tunic and chlamys were both needed to make the bed as they needed both a cloth to ward their bodies from the rocky cavern floor and the other to cover their bodies to keep warm when the fire died (it was already failing.) Tyndareus saw this and said to Krotos. "We needs must share the covers if we both wish to rise again unbruised and warm."
"I will share then, with gratitude," Krotos replied.
"We can keep each other warm through the night," Tyndareus grinned, and Krotos grinned even wider. They were men together, after all, and men of whatever heritage have their needs and their desires and their bodies are not fussy about minor things such as horns on the head and hooves on the feet.
Krotos for his part did not hesitate, he gave a snort as Tyndareus' body laid next to his and he grabbed the man lustily and without a single kiss or caress or kind word he jammed his hairy legs between Tyndareus' and lifting them up to match the man's hairy buttocks with his hairier groin and the satyr's thick, rank-smelling dong plunged into Tyndareus' bowels in one hard thrust of satyric passion.
Tyndareus was a man among men of his class, and he had dallied often while en camp with his fellow soldiers, and they were a rough lot, for it was a rough life and if a man is going to shed his blood in battle the next day, he wishes to feel it pound in his veins the night before. So the satyr's rough entrance did not damage him the way it would have damaged a man unused to such treatment, either in receiving it or in giving it to his comrades in arms.
So what he did was let out a long, low moan of pleasure and wrap his legs around the hairy haunches of his lover as best he could and his hands wrapped the strong, muscled back and he helped the satyr lustily hammer-fuck his ass with strokes hard enough to bruise his buttocks from their ferocity.
Tyndareus didn't care, he moaned and crooned and his athletic hips moved to help the satyr plunge-fuck him to the hilt. The demi-god was the best fuck he had ever gotten bar none, and he exulted and gasped and let his passion reign supreme.
Krotos was snorted and puffing as he kept up the steady stream of deep, hard thrusts into the Greek's bowels, and he had a snarl on his face that somehow missed being angry, nor did the furrowed brow speak of anger, this was merely the goat in the rictus of his rut.
"Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh!" Tyndareus gasped. "My passion rises in me, I cannot stay back much longer!"
"Grahhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, no need!" Krotos gnashed out. "AHHH-AHHH-AHHH, KAHH-HUNNNNNNNNNNNN!"
The thick sperm of the satyr flooded into Tyndareus' ass in a rough, chunky rush that he felt like a series of small rocks being shoved into his anus. The discomfort eased as fast as the squibs hit, though and he bore up under the rough passion and the satyr lay down on his body, panting, a heavy lead weight on Tyndareus' chest and he patted the heaving body atop his and let the satyr recover as he needed until he roused and pulled his thick cock out of Tyndareus' ass with a pop, so thick it had grown in his lust.
"Your seed is planted," Tyndareus said, "yet mine is still within its sack and needs must be sown yet."
Again, Krotos said not a word, but merely moved to get onto his haunches and elbows, and his buttock was raised into the air, the small tuft of a tail uppermost.
Comprehending, Tyndareus said, "I thank you, friend satyr, and accept with gratitude." His cock was raging and he saw no reason to be anything like gentle in his own turn, his passion was a palpable beast raging his breast and he either gave it its outlet or it would consume him.
He knelt behind the compliant satyr and thrust his cock into the soft anus, which was a grayish tucker of bare patch in the hairy buttocks. He pushed in to the hilt, and he found the buttock hairs to be strangely soft, unlike the rougher hairs of the haunches that had abraded the insides of Tyndareus' thighs as he had been hard-fucked by the lusty satyr. The soft butt-fur made the connection pleasant and Tyndareus let his passion lead the charge.
He pummeled the satyr's ass as roughly as Krotos had plunge-fucked his own, the satyr made no protest and indeed seemed to relish the rough handling, snorting and raising his head in pleasure as Tyndareus rather impressive prong hammered into his ass as if Tyndareus was driving a spike into a tough piece of lumber he was cutting for his house.
His passion was already at a peak and Tyndareus lasted but two minutes of hard ramming before he felt his climax seize his brain. "Here it comes!" he gasped out and then he orgasmed noisily, snorting like the satyr in his passion. "GAHH-AHHH-AHHH, HUH-KUHHHHHHH!"
His spooge flowed heavily if with more cohesion than Krotos' had done, and he creamed heavily and when he was done, he clung to the satyr's haunches as he gasped, then fell over onto the tunic laid out under them so hard he bruised a rib in his collapse.
"Now we can sleep despite the thunderous rage outside," Krotos said to him gently.
The thunder in his veins had been so loud he had tuned out the weather, and it did indeed rage on, pouring water upon the land so heavily that the overload land began to run in rivulets all around the countryside around the cave, yet the mouth of the cave was such that none of it ran inside the sanctuary where the man and satyr slept in mutual cordiality.
This was not an end to their lust, as the night wore on. After a few hours, Tyndareus awoke to find himself having been rolled onto his stomach and his ass was again invaded by the heavy, fat prick of Krotos, and the satyr again snorted and grunted as he hammered Tyndareus' buttocks again remorselessly.
Tyndareus for his part did not hesitate to reciprocate in kind, he mounted the satyr who was lying on his back and he watched Krotos' face as he pumped hard into the lusty bowels, and there was no anger or rage in the satyr's behavior, he indeed seemed to be at peace for what may have been the first time in the satyr's tempestuous life. Tyndareus for his part found that he had developed a true fondness for the satyr and as the dawn rose, he roused a few coals from the fire to help heat the cave a bit in the dreary and damp dawn, and again tore his final loaf of bread and offered the half of it to Krotos, who took it in the abstract way one does when he is given his due, with grace but not any hint of owing any debt.
"Well, the time has come for us to part," he sighed. "I admit that I have found your company to be the equal if not the better than that of my fellow warriors, and I hope that if we meet again in future, we can regain our camaraderie."
The satyr looked at him. "And this is how you of the race of Men and we of the Satyrs will never agree. We have mated and that was well, but it is over and with it we have no more need of each other. I will say only that if I face you in battle, I shall stay my hand long enough to let you flee, beyond that, your fate is your own."
"I am grateful for that, then," Tyndareus said. Krotos took off at a gallop down the hill and was soon lost to sight.
For his own part, Tyndareus took off himself, walking again toward his home. He would be there before the following nightfall, and the storm had done this much, it had washed away the sins of the world and the blood of the battle, and everything about him was clean and sharp, crisp and clear, as it had been when the world was new and Man had first risen up from the ground to look about him in wonder.
THE END
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