#2 Blendar Manor - the end

The dress code was casual, in keeping with the bonding aim of the weekend at the Manor. Lara was excited about the ghost tour, but even more about catching up with Darren later on. She asked me if I was okay with that; and how could I not be? It wasn’t anyone’s fault if that gorgeous man happened to be straight. Though, I added, that from that moment on I would never trust her judgment again.

Dinner was pleasant, and we all drank a little too much.

The tour took us through the Estate’s grounds, the library, the cellar, and even the kitchen. I was rather disappointed by the unoriginal supposed “sightings” of - a woman in white- a headless knight- and -an abominable beast that roamed the meadows, but only on a full moon night-. Things got more interesting in the cellar, a vast underground cave accessible through a wooden door at the end of a long corridor. It was said to be haunted by the ghost of Lord Blendar himself, who could be heard mournfully calling the name of his beloved. As the group moved on, I was the last in the queue to leave the place. When I turned to close the door, I thought I saw a figure lurking in a corner. I checked again, not trusting my eyes. It was the Lord, just as I remembered him from the painting, with the same sorrowful expression! I blinked, and he was gone, in his place was just a pile of boxes wrapped in a brown fabric. I must have drunk more than I thought, I convinced myself, running to catch up with the rest of the group.

Since my gallivanting expectations had been crushed in the afternoon and the sweet release in the shower had served its purpose of calming me down, I decided to go to bed immediately after the ghost tour. It was already quite late anyway, and if I woke up early enough the next morning, I could actually hit the hotel gym.

The bed was very comfortable, the sheets soft and I was tired, so it didn’t take me long before falling asleep.

At some point in the night, I dreamed of hearing grunts and muffled laughter coming from some distance away. The noises got louder until I realized I wasn’t dreaming at all. I opened my eyes; it took me a while to adjust to the darkness of that unfamiliar space. I turned on the bedside lamp, got out of bed naked and went to the door. The noises were real and seemed to be coming from behind multiple rooms; I could also hear footsteps. I carefully opened the door to see what was going on and poked my head out. What I saw was all wrong: the corridor was the familiar space from before but completely different at the same time, as if two photos of similar subjects had been superimposed one on top of the other. The floor was tiled, torches hung from the red walls, their pungent smell filling the air. The ceiling was painted gold, and phallic bas-reliefs adorned each door, including mine. “I’m still dreaming”, I remember reassuring myself… in the dream. A man came around the corner; I tried to back away, but he saw me and smiled. His legs were bare, he was wearing leather sandals and what looked like a cloth skirt, not unlike a kilt. His upper body was wrapped in a strip of the same fabric, but it hung so loosely that it barely covered anything. The man, holding a terracotta amphora with one hand, came straight at me. “General Fulvius, Lucius will be here shortly,” he whispered in my ear, placing his free hand on my chest. General Fulvius? Why did he call me that, and why did it make perfect sense to me? He spoke Latin, and even though I’d never studied it, I understood exactly what he was saying. I slipped my index finger under his belt and gently pulled him into the room. It was now a small oil lamp casting its seductive light against the bedroom walls, the four-poster bed had been replaced by a wooden construction topped by a rustic mattress. I sat on it as I had done in the afternoon, but this time I dragged Titus along by the belt. I can’t explain how I knew his name. He placed the amphora on the nightstand and stood in front of me. “More water, General? We should both have some.” He filled two large goblets and leaned closer so that one of my knees was between his legs, the fabric of his garment folding onto it.

“For you.” A few drops spilled on my chest, their coolness, welcome. I looked down at where they fell and didn’t recognize myself. General Fulvius had a more robust build than mine, a few scars crossed his chest, half hidden under a carpet of dark hair. His soft cock wasn’t much different from mine but the longer foreskin created a neat little pouch at the tip. The thought of pulling it down made the cock grow larger, and now I could clearly see the glans shaping nicely underneath the retractable skin. His legs were also thicker than mine, I’d say “buff” would be a good word to describe him, but in a roughish way. Once I’d emptied my goblet, Titus took it from me and wiped my mouth with a cloth. As he did so, I felt the scratch of a beard, I raised a hand to my chin and caressed the prickly growth that covered my face. General Fulvius’ face.

I pointed to a leather pouch near the lamp. “That’s the pay money, don’t forget it.”

“I won’t, General, thank you.” But it seemed his thoughts were on something else: he leaned in to kiss me. I was taken aback, it wasn’t the kiss I expected a man like the general would be sharing: it was Titus’ tongue that took over, blocking mine, almost pushing it, exploring every corner of my mouth. I backed away a little: I wanted to take a closer look at that man

His skin was darker than the General’s: Mediterranean or even Middle Eastern, he must have come from the provinces. A little younger than me, the Scottish me I should say, with a similar build. I removed the strip of cloth covering his upper body; his lean, defined chest was covered with a fine dark moss of hair that stopped at his sternum. “Tell me; do you know my age?” He seemed puzzled, so I insisted. “You’re 42, general, you’ve seen a lot of combat.”

Forty-two years old, the man who had taken possession of my body was a soldier ten years older than me. I placed both hands on Titus’ waist, feeling the tightness of his skin. He stayed there without saying anything, then I removed my right hand and ran it under his short tunic, along the firmness of his velvety thighs. I felt his heat rising as I reached his large ballsack. I held it in my hands, squeezing it gently, appreciating its weight. I was dying to see what was hidden underneath that cloth. As I was cupping his balls, I felt his cock hitting my pulse, soft, warm, heavy, and cut. I wanted to explore it, my cock wanted me to explore it: I could feel it between my legs, hard with anticipation. My hand moved upward, eager to touch what Titus had to offer, I held his semi-flaccid dick as if it were an animal to be handled with care. His cock had reached that deliciously promising in-between stage, where it was no longer at rest but not quite fully aroused.

“Not yet, General.”

“I know, I know, it’s easier if we wait.” I said, although I didn’t understand the need to slow things down. Titus poured himself some more water. “Let’s go,” he said, and I followed.

As I got up from the bed, there was a knock on the door. “Right on time,” Titus whispered, looking at me with a mischievous smile. He went to open, and a man about his age entered the room, bowing his head when he noticed me. I couldn’t believe how beautiful this man was. Titus was certainly handsome, but there was something about him that harked back to a previous life, a reality sculpted in his calloused hands and a mystery held in his eyes that made me feel he was in command.

Lucius was different. I knew, because the General knew ( by now I was comfortable with this dissonance: I was Fulvius), that he came from a Germanic tribe. Wavy blond hair framed his head in a blurry haze. In the dim light of the room, I couldn’t tell if his eyes were blue or green; large they gave an impression of permanent surprise mixed with a hint of sadness. His prominent eyebrows and blond lashes instead of hiding the eyes, made them stand out. The rich lips protruded slightly, giving that otherwise angelic face a shameless erotic willingness. A short beard completed that mesmerizing beauty.

I stood there, unable to move. He was wearing a garment similar to Titus’. He came over and kissed me. This time, the General knew exactly what to do. His tongue circled the other man’s, tasting, exploring, feeling his mouth. As we kissed, I wrapped my arms around Lucius’ strong back, managed to remove the strip of fabric, and felt his hairless chest press against my nipples. My cock was hardening again, and I could feel his, rubbing against my leg through his short tunic. It was large and heavy. Shamelessly I just wanted to wrap my mouth around it. Titus joined us, our three mouths vying for space. Somehow, it broke the erotic tension, and I think that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m ready if you are, General” were the first words I heard from Lucius, and the depth of his voice took me by surprise.

We moved to the bathroom. I was now expecting it to have gone through the same dreamlike distortion as everything else, and I wasn’t wrong. Several oil lamps brightened the room with a shimmering light. The space was almost bare of furniture; warm, very warm, but dry. At the far end there was a small pool filled with water. Where the shower should have been, there was instead a sunken space. A few steps led to its bottom, where a large brazier burned in one corner. A sweet, fragrant scent filled the air. We stood there, both Lucius and Titus undressing in front of me. I was already naked, of course, I had almost forgotten. Seeing their bare bodies sent a current of desire running through mine, an unsatisfiable crave. Though of similar built, both athletic and lean, the two men embodied very different ideas of masculinity. I could add my own body to that description, but running one hand over myself, I could confirm that General Fulvius was bigger. In a funny way, he, the Roman soldier, was the one with the body of a barbarian.

And of course I couldn’t help but notice the cocks: we were all still in that semi-aroused phase, when the blood floods our groins yet not quite enough to make the cock stand. Titus’, cut, long with a small bush of curly hair and large balls that hung asymmetrically. Mine, shorter but thicker with its generous foreskin, and then there was Lucius’, even at rest, one of the most magnificent cocks I’d ever seen: it matched my thickness with Lucius’s length, the foreskin barely hiding the generous girth of its head. His balls were hard to see, hidden behind that precious jewel and a cloud of golden hair.

It seemed we all knew what was coming next, like in a carefully choreographed scene. Lucius descended the steps into the rectangular pit. I stood on the edge while Titus was somewhere behind me. The blond god positioned himself, standing so that his head was just below my groin. My cock throbbed as I waited for those lips to part, waited for Lucius to lean in and take me into his mouth. Instead, he stood there, his eyes dreamy and his lips parted.

And then I knew, I relaxed. I, “Cubicle Scott” as my friends call me because of my dislike of open urinals, let go and a trickle of clear piss fell on that angel’s mouth. His tongue, like a dog following a scent, intercepting the weak spurt, licking his lips, searching. I let out more, this time a steadier flow that hit his face and then his mouth. He let it fill and spat it back against my abs, a clear, warm liquid that flattened the hair of my treasure trail. I knew that for the General, pissing on Lucius had nothing to do with humiliation; it was much more than that, something primal, instinctive, animalistic. It was sharing the most intimate part of himself, a hormonal taboo. My right hand held my cock, directing the piss where I wanted it to fall. Lucius’ body was wet, glistening in the firelight. With one hand, he was stroking his own hardness, a massive shaft jetting out parallel to the floor. He leaned in, squeezed my foreskin between his lips, and my piss swelled it like a tiny balloon. He let go, and his mouth flooded until he spat it all over me once again. I caressed my abs with my left hand, the tangle of wet hair, and brought it to my mouth, licking each finger. The taste surprised me: very faintly herbal and bitter. I found it intoxicating, and I wanted more.

I didn’t know where he’d been, but suddenly I felt Titus behind me, his body cold as he flattened himself against my back, his left arm wrapped around my chest, his fingers pinching my nipples. With his other hand, he took control of my cock.

“Go ahead,” he said, and I let the piss flow again. Now it was him directing where the stream would land; the lack of control was incredibly empowering, going against everything I’d been taught, and in this case, I speak for both the General and myself. Lucius was still drinking and spitting, over my body and his own, he let his hand slide over his wet torso, his face even more ecstatic but less angelic now that his wavy hair had fallen flat. Titus’s cock rested on the crack of my ass, a more important and solid presence than before. He lifted my dick so that the piss was now wetting my own body. I bent and lowered my head until I could get the jet to hit my mouth. I sucked the piss in and let it swirl before spitting it back at Lucius, mixed with my saliva. He caught most of it and swallowed. 

My flow was getting weaker, I sat on the edge of the pit and jumped in.

Now I was standing next to Lucius, his body wet, warm, and slightly sticky. We turned toward each other and began kissing. I could taste my piss on his lips, in his mouth, and on his skin. His cock was grinding against my hips, its firmness full of promise, mine was hard too. I looked down, the General’s erection was new to me: much of his glans was still hidden by his taut foreskin, his member was very thick at the base rising in a slightly curved diagonal. I touched it and felt it smoother than what I was used to. I looked up and for the first time noticed the large mirror on the wall. I wished I hadn’t because all I could see was myself: Scott; naked with a hard on, my arms forming a circle in front of me, my mouth distorted in a mock kiss. No Lucius, no Titus, no General, just me. I felt like I was a piece in a jigsaw puzzle that was missing its other components. It was disconcerting, and then I reminded myself it was just a dream. I switched places with Lucius so the mirror was behind me, and went back to business.

We continued kissing, exploring each other’s bodies. I lifted Lucius’s arms and licked his pits, the damp hair deliciously musky. That’s when a warm rain began to hit us. I looked up and saw Titus, standing in the exact same spot I’d been, holding his long cock and drenching us with his piss. It was a strong flow, Titus pressed against his slit so that the clear liquid reached us like a spray. Our open mouths were eager to receive it, it tasted different from mine, less bitter but saltier. Lucius and I went on kissing, our fluids mixing with the piss that rained down on us. I licked his neck, his face, his ears. He took my nipples in his mouth, licking and biting them, and ran his tongue over my spongy chest, sucking the drops trapped in the hair.

We moved closer to Titus, his cock hard, its length weighing it down but still capable of pissing a fine fast stream. I took it in my mouth, his glans warm and wet, his piss tickling my throat. I went deeper along his eight-inch shaft, my hand following my mouth in a rhythmic dance, I came up and looked at Lucius. He parted his lips and I poured the warm liquid in. Then it was Lucius’s turn to drink from the tap, and as he did so, I knelt down and took his beast in my mouth. My lips stretched around the girth of his cock; its heaviness combined with the taste of piss bringing me closer to the point of no return; I had to stop touching myself. 

We kissed again until the flow stopped. 

That’s when we really got down on Titus’s cock, taking turns with our mouths, paying attention to his enormous balls, sliding our hands up and down his shaft, worshipping that splendid obelisk.

“I’m coming General,” he said, half grunting half commanding.

And we obeyed! With our heads side by side, mouths open and tongues hanging out, we prepared to receive his load. And what a load it was: jets of thick cum landing on our bodies, our heads, our tongues, in our mouths. I’m a generous cummer, but Titus was a sperm fountain! Once he’d spent himself, I moved closer to his cock, once again taking it in my mouth, lubricating it with his own cum. It showed no signs of softening, its hardness contrasting beautifully with the creaminess of his ejaculation. I came up and, holding Titus’s cock at the base, I offered it to Lucius’s mouth. His lips wrapped around the shaft as if it were a lifeline. I was being very careful not to touch myself : seeing my angel covered in cum and working on that cock really brought me closer to the edge, but there was more, I knew. We kissed again, our mouths sticky with cum and piss.

Lucius took my hand, clearly wanting me to follow him. He led me to the small pool, and we dipped in. The water was warm and sweet smelling, perhaps mint and lavender. I enjoyed soaking in it with Lucius at my side, but at the same time, I didn’t want to lose the erotic momentum. I needn’t have worried: Titus was standing on the edge, watching us, his cock still hard and heavy, as if he hadn’t just unleashed the biggest eruption of cum I’d ever seen.

He was stroking it gently, invitingly; from where I stood, his ballsack was like a wonderful apple that his snake was challenging me to taste. Lucius had a sponge in his hand and ran it over my body. I did the same to him, but we must have only been there for a few minutes. We got out of the pool and dried ourselves with some towels.

We went back to the bedroom. 

Knowing what would come next made me go hard with anticipation. But my horniness abruptly dimmed when, in one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, I noticed a man watching me. By now I was hardly surprised: this dream was taking me on an unexpected journey. The man was handsome, with dark unkempt hair, a moustache, and sideburns. Like us he also seemed to be in his thirties. He was wearing a white shirt with frills around the collar, high leather boots, and cream-coloured trousers. It was then that I registered he had his cock in one hand and was masturbating. I don’t think he could see Titus or Lucius, and neither of them could see him. His eyes were fixed on me, and somehow I knew it was Scott he was seeing. He was sitting there, not seeming to be in a hurry or wanting to join in, just slowly touching himself. The fact that he was dressed made me feel like he was a punter and I was what he wanted to buy. This turned me on even more.

Lucius and Titus were already on the mattress, Lucius on his back, knees to his chest. Titus was next to him, propped up on his elbows and knees. They were kissing and simultaneously offering me their holes.

Lucius’s balls lay flat on a blond trail that circled his bud and continued on his butt cheeks. Gravity, meanwhile, was pulling Titus’s sack down, above which, the hairless outline of his creased hole was demanding to be rimmed. That was the most incredible offer I’d ever had: two holes next to each other framed by the beautiful buttocks of the two men, both firm, virile but very different from each other.

I jumped onto the mattress, positioning behind them and, like Titus, leaning on my knees. I started with him, my tongue running up and down his slit, lingering on his hole while my hand tugged at his hard cock. His smooth skin was salty, his tight hole unyielding, yet I could taste the musk within. I moved on to Lucius; because of his position, there was something almost vulgar about the way his hole opened before my eyes. It contrasted so sharply with his angelic charm, just like his cum covered face a few minutes before. My tongue went straight for it, licking, probing, tasting. He was still damp from the dip in the pool, his scent masked by the oils in the water. My tongue licked his balls, my mouth sucked them in, and I ached with desire. I knew the mysterious man in the chair was still wanking while watching me; Scott. I felt exposed being in the same position as Titus’, my cock and balls dangling but my hole tight. Shamelessly, I spread my knees and lowered my back so he could get a better look. My hole was actually throbbing, my hard cock bouncing .

Titus shifted position and got behind me as Lucius let go of his knees and lay on the mattress with his legs at my sides. Titus began doing exactly what I’d done to him moments before, but since I’d spread my legs, he easily found his way to my hole. His expert tongue tickled every nerve, every cell whose sole purpose was to give me pleasure. Lucius held his cock, shaking it, inviting me to eat it. He didn’t need to ask; my lips wrapped around it, my tongue playing around his piss slit and the crown of his glans. I had to stretch my mouth to let it in. I moved down his shaft, holding it at the base, pulling the skin and letting it go. Lucius’s eyes never left mine; they were green, I finally noticed. He grabbed a terracotta jar from the nightstand, lifted my head so I could let go of his cock, and poured some of the contents onto his shaft. It was oil; his cock was glistening now. He gave me the jar and I passed it on to Titus. I lowered myself again, my hand sliding smoothly along Lucius’ hefty manhood. Thick strands formed between my lips and his piss slit: his precum mixing with the oil and my saliva like a sticky spiderweb.

Titus had stopped probing my hole with his tongue, and that’s when I felt his oiled finger circling it, teasing my opening. The idea of ​​being fingered would have worried me: Scott, but so would have -way more actually- that of being pissed on, and we know how that ended... for the General, however, this felt like a regular course from his sex menu: his hole waiting for the finger as if it were a landing strip signal. I was still sucking Lucius’ cock when I felt Titus entering me, its hard, rounded nail hitting the soft walls of my body, drawing circles, going further, withdrawing, caressing parts until then untouched. My awkwardness being pushed aside by the General’s pleasure, deafened by his moans. Moans that grew louder as a second finger found its way in. “For you, General” I heard him say, his voice filled with the confidence of someone who knew he was doing a good job. I could only make a few sounds of approval, letting him go on with his probing. When he pulled his fingers out, it was as if a void had taken over my body, a void that needed to be filled. I felt both his hands on my ass as he spread my cheeks. That man! He hadn’t lost his erection since he’d pissed on us, not even for a second, not even after his explosion. 

And just like that, he was inside, his cock easily finding its way into the well-oiled hole, reverential at first, accommodating, announcing its presence. And its presence there was more than welcome, my body tightening around his cock like a vice, not wanting to let go but knowing it had no say in the matter. Titus’ thrusts became more pronounced, his cock sliding into my body, hitting my pleasure spot, slipping away and returning hungrily. His balls slapped against mine as he pushed further inside. The force of his movements shoving my mouth even deeper onto Lucius’s cock.

And yet, because of the General’s sturdy build, even in this extremely passive position, he exuded an air of command: never gagging, never letting go, moving his hips just so that Titus directed his cock exactly where he wanted it to go.

Titus’s thrusts became rhythmic, faster, his hands tightening on the General’s hips; my hips, of course. His breathing quickened; he was holding it now. “I’m coming!” those words were enough for the General to know exactly what to do: he let Titus’ shaft slide out of his body and turned quickly; just as before, his head now next to Lucius’. Titus moved closer and with a final tug on his cock, he released his orgasm. A spray of cum hit our hair, our mouths, our beards. Our tongues running around, catching the dollops.

This time, Lucius didn’t hang around for a few sticky kisses: he left me lying there on my back while I sucked every last drop from Titus’ exhausted cock, which was finally showing signs of softening.

Lucius helped me pull my knees up to my chest. I looked at him, at his beard covered in streamers of cum. He held his cock in his hand and guided it into my gaping hole. I don’t know how I would have reacted if Titus hadn’t already broken all resistance. Titus, the icebreaker who paved the way for a larger vessel. I inhaled, let out the air, and enjoyed the feeling of fullness that came from having Lucius’ beast inside me.

It was as if my body had a memory of his cock (maybe it did), like a fancy pillow. He stretched me with his confidence, his certitude, his fullness. The waves of pleasure continued to ebb and flow with his thrusts, his hairless chest was covered in sweat, drops of cum dripping from his beard onto my stomach. He closed his eyes and grunted, but didn’t stop, until he let out a deeper sound of release and I felt my insides ignite with his seed.

He kept going as spurt after spurt of cum poured into my body. His eyes were open now, a smirk on his face. “Your turn, General,” he whispered without pausing. I finally felt ready to stroke my cock with all the vigour I desired. It was hard, hot, the thick glans almost purple, my arm was moving faster, each stroke bringing me closer to the end.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I repeated. Lucius slipped out of me and came to my side, his mouth open over my cock, his fingers replacing his shaft, stretching and drilling my hole. And then I let go, a current that travelled through my body, from my wet, sticky ass to my mouth still eating Titus’ cock. The spurt of cum hit Lucius in the corner of his mouth, his tongue working hard to gather it.

Others followed, each bringing more moments of ecstasy as I emptied myself into the blond god’s mouth. As I began to slow down, he took my cock between his lips and licked it down to the tilt. I could feel my cum coating my shaft as he released it. I let go of Titus, and he too turned his attention to my groin, both of them licking my cock and swapping my cum. It was Lucius who decided it was time to share the cum parcel with me. He came up and we began kissing, strings of sperm connecting our mouths. Titus joined us in a three-way kiss, our tongues twisting, pushing, and sharing. Our three exhausted bodies, entwined in a slow embrace, our cocks squishing against each other in a satisfied softness. 

I looked down at the corner of the room, the mysterious man was still there, his cock hard, gushes of cum were shooting out of it as he grimaced, his expression almost pained. 

We lay like that for a while, not speaking. I was starting to feel a dissociation between my body and the General’s. The room seemed to blur. I heard the other two say they were going back to the pool, and I saw them heading for the bathroom. The General was with them. My own body had come back. I looked at the man on the chair. He had buttoned up his trousers, and was looking at me while mouthing something I couldn’t make out; something like, “…I’m here”

And as I tried to tell him I couldn’t understand what he was saying I fell back into a dreamless sleep.

My alarm went off at 7 a.m., but I couldn’t manage to wake up and turned it off. When I opened my eyes again, a faint light filtered through the heavy curtains. My first thought could be summed up as a huge “What the fuck?”

I’m no stranger to vivid dreams, but the one I had that night was something else, not only because it seemed incredibly real, but also because I could remember everything. Usually, moments after waking, my dreams dissolve into a hazy fog. That morning, however, every detail was alive; I could almost taste the cum in my mouth. And I’d been fucked and pissed on! What was all that about? Freud, any help?

I pulled back the covers and looked down at my body. A sticky residue matted my pubes and abs. I checked the sheet and saw the shadow of a familiar stain. I couldn’t believe it: I had a wet dream! I think the last time I had one, I must have been seventeen. Well, that was embarrassing; I didn’t think I’d be returning to Blendar Manor anytime soon. I looked at the lounge area, nothing unusual there, no handsome strangers wanking off. I checked my phone, 8:40 AM, so much for the gym! I got out of bed and went to take a shower. Once again, everything was as it should be: no pool, no pit, no blond god being pissed on. 

I returned to the bed, towel around my waist, when I noticed the leather pouch on the bedside table—how strange. I picked it up, shook out the contents, and several silver coins fell into my hand. What was that? Did the hotel organize a drinking game in which I was an overly enthusiastic participant and I’d blanked it out? If so, where was the massive headache that I usually get when I have a hangover?

I needed to speak to Lara, I called her and she answered immediately. She was already in the breakfast room. I quickly dressed and went to find her. She was sitting at a corner table, with a croissant on a plate and a glass of orange juice. She had reserved a seat for me and had already poured two cups of coffee.

How was I going to go about it? As usual, I opted for some small talk first, and I was actually quite curious anyway.

“Beautiful woman, how did it go last night with the handsome prince?” I teased

She looked coy as she played with her napkin. “Pretty good, actually...”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“A lady doesn’t...”

“You’re no lady.” I didn’t let her finish.

“Yes, of course we did!” she blushed.

“Good on you! So, how was his Prince Albert like?”

“Prince Albert? He didn’t have one.”

And so it was that the mental image I had of Darren was shattered. I would have to rethink my wank bank.

“ Quite the vanilla kind of guy actually.” She specified.

Which got me thinking about my not-so-vanilla dream and the need for some explanation about what had happened the night before.

I was about to ask Lara exactly that, when I noticed the painting hanging on the wall directly behind her. Two young men, side by side, both facing the viewer and both with the confident smiles of those who have their whole lives ahead of them. One was Lord Blendar; I recognized the man from the painting I’d seen the day before, even though all the joy had been sucked out of that one. The other was none other than the mysterious man in my room. I’d never seen that painting before, I’d never even been to the breakfast room and I had no recollection of having come across it online. I had to find Dana, the tour guide. I was pretty sure what she’d say, but I needed a specific answer.

I asked for Dana at the front desk, and they called her to see if she could come to meet me. When she arrived, she seemed surprised to see me and a little worried that I’d asked her more inappropriate questions concerning the tour we had the day before.

Well, I certainly wasn’t going to tell her about my dream, and when she heard what I wanted to know, she seemed genuinely chuffed that I was showing some interest in the manor’s history.

And yes, indeed: “The man in the painting next to Lord Blendar is Stewart Ashwell, his lover and companion. The painting was commissioned just before the manor’s completion.” She explained.

I thanked her and quickly left. I had to do something, but I didn’t know what, so I went up to my room. I thought back to the night before: what was Ashwell trying to tell me? “...I’m here” was all I could make out. I sat down in the armchair where he’d been wanking, trying to figure out what he might have wanted to say.

And then it occurred to me. Stewart Ashwell was asking me to “Tell him I’m here”; him being Lord Blendar, of course!

But how? Was it the ghost of the Lord that I’d seen in the cellar, or just a trick of my imagination? And how could I talk to him? It was one thing to be possessed by the ghost of a hot Roman general dying, no pun intended, to be fucked; it was quite another to connect with the Lord.

That was when my gaze fell again on the leather pouch Titus had forgotten on the bedside table. If —and that was a big; huge if— what had happened the night before was somehow real, that pouch was the only thing effectively connecting the two dimensions I’d fallen into.

I had to think fast: we’d be leaving the manor in less than an hour. I wasn’t sure if my idea would work or not, but I found a pen and a stack of stationery with the hotel’s logo engraved on it. I took the pouch heavy with coins and began to write.

“My love, I’ve been waiting for you. It’s very lonely here. Come and find me. We’ll be together again. Stewart.” I didn’t know what to add, so I wrote down my room number, which seemed silly, and drew a map of how to get there from the cellar. I slipped the message into the bag, hoping that, just like the coins, it would be able to cross realms.

I almost ran out of the room, along the corridor, and went downstairs. A large “NO ENTRY” sign was attached to the door that opened onto the passageway leading to the wine cave. It was open, and I slipped inside. It was damp there, with only a few light bulbs illuminating the shadowy passage. I reached the cave door, half hoping to find the ghost of the Lord waiting for me. Instead, I was greeted only by the pile of boxes I had mistaken for him the night before. There was nothing else I could do: I left the pouch on one of the boxes hoping for the best and, feeling incredibly stupid, I spoke into the damp air explaining what was happening to a pile of cardboard and rows of bottles, hoping that somewhere the Lord was listening.

I left the cellar as quickly as I’d got there, went to my room, and got ready to leave.

Half an hour later, we were in the manor parking lot, our bus waiting for us to board. Lara was somewhere off to the side, Darren next to her. I knew she didn’t want to give too much away to the other colleagues, so their demeanour was more friendly than romantic. I went to say goodbye to Darren, a little sheepish because I was sure Lara had told him I fancied him.

He was his usual self: friendly, confident, and gorgeous. We bear hugged, then Lara asked me, “What the hell happened to you? Where did you go?”

“A long story, Lara. I’ll tell you on the bus!” I replied, unsure how I’d broach the subject without seeming out of my mind.

Just then, the call came that we should get on the bus. I left to give the two lovebirds a last moment alone when I heard Darren shout at me,

“Sorry about the Prince Albert!”

I turned around, blushing. “Lara!” I scolded her, but they were both laughing, and I joined in.

It was a nicer morning than the day before. The sky was clear except for a few billowing clouds moving quickly across the blue expanse. The temperature had dropped though, and I was happy to notice the heating was on when I hopped on the bus and took my place by the window. I looked at the manor, still wondering at what had happened, not sure I’d ever get an answer .

It was then that I looked up at a large window on the first floor; my room I realized. Two men were standing side by side, one with his arms around the other’s waist. They were looking at me, both with the confident smiles of those who have the whole eternity ahead of them. 

I felt a small jolt next to me: it was Lara.

“Hey, what are you day dreaming about?” She asked as the bus began to move. I pointed to the window, but there was no one there.

“Nothing, I’m just thinking.”

The bus slowed to a stop as some sheep crossed the driveway. Lara was talking about Darren, their plans for meeting up again, maybe he was going to come and visit her in York; but I was only half listening: the field was crowded with men, Roman soldiers! It crossed my mind that maybe they were shooting a movie, but there were no cameras, no crew. Two of the soldiers stood out: they wore more elaborate uniforms than the rest of the legion, senior officers, I presumed. They turned to look at me; Titus and Lucius, resplendent in their liveries. Not male sex workers from the brothel, then, but commanders in the Roman army. Titus held a bulging leather purse in his hand from which he was offering coins to a line of soldiers A sturdier man emerged from a nearby tent, a feathered helmet in one hand, stroking his beard with the other. General Fulvius joined the other two. He looked up, and gave me a wink while his free hand rested on the curve of Lucius’ ass.

The bus lurched and started to move.

“So, what’s your answer?” Lara looked pissed off.

“To what?”

“I knew you weren’t listening. You’re weird this morning.”

She wasn’t wrong. 

I turned to look out of the window; the field was empty except for a flock of sheep.