Date: Fri, 27 Nov 2015 20:16:32 -0500
From: seth.margrave <seth.margrave@gmail.com>
Subject: The Baths of New Caledonia Part 1: Titus Saenus

The Baths of New Caledonia Part 1: Titus Saenus

Mornings were usually kind to Titus. Unlike his brother and sister, he
awoke with the sun and felt none of the drowsiness that hung on his
siblings like an autumn fog on the twilight. This morning was especially
kind, as it was the summer solstice; birds abounded outside of the large
picture window that looked into his room of the villa. As the sun rose, so
did his eyelids--the receding shadows revealing the landscape outside in
time with his widening field of vision. When the sun had cleared the tops
of the trees across his father's gardens, Titus rose and stretched, letting
the golden rays warm his skin.


Today was Titus's eighteenth birthday, and many things were to happen on
his day of majority, but for now his whole life was just this morning: the
air saturated with glittering heat, the dew sizzling softly in the gardens,
and his room coming to life with light.


Titus was an Elite, just like his father and his father's father before
him, since the beginning of the New World. This title, however
advantageous, did not spare him from puberty; he developed in fits and
starts just like any young man, Common or Elite. He had grown from a boy
described by his older brother Marcus as a runt to a man just taller than
his father, a fact that Titus took the smallest bit of pride in. His smooth
round jaw had become angled and strong, with a dusting of beard to
match. Only men grew beards, but Titus was glad that he had to shave--he
disliked having facial hair, and was afraid that it would grow in like his
brother's. Marcus had attempted to grow a beard once he had come of age,
but gave up when all he could manage was a few patches of stubble.


Titus's education had, like that of all Elite boys, included physical
education and sports in addition to mathematics and literature. Always
outside and always in the nude, he competed in foot races, wrestling
matches, and swimming competitions with as much determination as he studied
Plato, Shakespeare, and Huxley. The Elite citizens of the Federated
Provinces of New Rome valued physical development as much as that of the
mind and soul, and a quick way to distinguish an Elite or wealthy Common
from the poorer classes was to look at him naked. Tanned, smooth skin
covering a strong and muscled frame looked quite different from the pasty
and slack skin of Common citizens who couldn't afford to spend their
leisure time in the courtyards and baths. Titus was a prime example of the
Elite aesthetic, with well-sculpted muscles and chest hair that became a
narrow trail at his navel and down to his cock below. His skin was a tawny
light brown, a shade that made his bright green eyes pop underneath blonde
curls. Flecks of gold made his eyes gleam in even the dimmest of moonlight,
and in the sun they were dazzling. Titus brought a hand up to his chest and
traveled down his front, feeling the smooth rises and valleys of his
body. His buttocks were firm and lightly covered with golden hair. His hand
arrived at the base of his cock and gave it a tug, feeling his foreskin
shift over the head. A sigh escaped his mouth and he put both hands on his
hips.


Swimming was his favorite sport, and had been ever since his father taught
him in the pond at the center of the villa's gardens. With much splashing
and playful shouting, his father showed him to hold his breath underwater
and dive down to the bottom to pick up silver coins. The game made Titus
embrace the water, even when it seemed frightening. The summers of Titus's
youth had meshed together into what seemed like a single moment floating
face up in the pond, surrounded by lush vegetation and the haze of a
perfect summer's day. A day quite like today, Titus thought, and with that
he began to dress.


His mother Johanna had commissioned a new wardrobe for his majority, with
the richly-colored fabrics that men wore to distinguish themselves from the
plain tunics of youth. His birthday outfit was dark crimson, his favorite
color, with subtle gold trim and sleeves cut short for the hot summer. He
would wear the accompanying toga when he went out with his father later,
but left it on his bed for now. He padded barefoot out of his room and down
a wide sunlit hallway with mosaics on the wall. He had spent many hours of
his youth in that hallway, imagining himself in the battles that raged on
the wall. Horses rearing back with their riders brandishing swords of
shining steel. Men in biplanes fighting for dominance in the air above
fields thick with combat. The last section was dedicated to the New Roman
Conquest, which had established the Triumvirate--the Emperors of the East,
South, and North that filled the power vacuum after the destruction of
civilization in North and Central America. A mushroom cloud marked the end
of the mosaic, but the true magnitude of the image was lost on Titus. He
had been born almost a hundred years after the last of those bombs had
fallen on the Eastern Empire, and knew only the idyllic gardens and
sprawling villas of what was once Central Park.


The hallway opened to an archway that led Titus to the outer gardens. He
stopped to take a drink from one of the two fountains flanking the arch and
then walked to the end of the tiled patio. A small series of steps took him
down to the garden path that wound over short hills covered with shade
trees and flowers of every imaginable color. The earth was warm underneath
his feet and he savored the feeling of the soil just beginning to bake in
the sunlight. Titus made his way towards the pond and looked around.
Several other villas were within view, partially obscured by trees and
their own gardens, but he saw no one out for a walk as he was. He was the
only soul awake in his neighborhood, the sole witness to the flight of the
goddess Aurora across the great blue sky.


The pond came into view around a small rise, surrounded by cattails,
wildflowers, and a large tree that shaded the northern corner. Small lily
pads sat on the smooth surface of the water, drifting lazily to and fro.
Titus's face brightened and his pace quickened without conscious thought.
He reached the shade tree and began to undress, hanging his tunic on a low
branch. He took a running start and jumped into the cool water, sending
waves in all directions.


The sounds of the morning, which had not seemed so loud, were swiftly
quieted. Water filled his ears and a roaring silence replaced the birdsong
and hum of cicadas. He kicked forward and began a lazy breaststroke to the
sandy bottom of the pond, feeling the water flow over his body. He turned
over on his back and looked up. The surface of the water had become liquid
glass, splitting and uniting innumerable shards of sunshine as it strove
for its former equilibrium. He thought of the Temple of Helios in the
Eastern Emperor's Palace, with its glass ceiling at high noon. The great
sun disc on the tiled floor became a surface for the thousands of prisms
above to project their refracted light and bring glory to the harbinger of
the new day.


Titus surfaced and breathed deeply. He swam to the bank and climbed out of
the water, wetting the ground beneath him. He lay down with his hands
behind his head to dry in the heat. He stretched his glistening body and
curled his toes, enjoying the pleasurable sensation of the grass on his
bare buttocks and the sunlight warming his hardening cock. He reached down
and grasped it firmly, which only made him harder. His foreskin began to
retract over the smooth and shiny head of his cock, tipped with a droplet
of precum. He began to stroke his erection, bringing the skin up and down
over the head, making him fully hard. His other hand made its way to his
chest, gently caressing a tanned nipple. Waves of pleasure emanated from
his waist as he quickened his hand's pace. He pushed his chin up and arched
his neck, sighing and closing his eyes.


Titus's thoughts quickly went to Camille, his neighbor's daughter. Fleeting
images passed through his mind's eye: her long red hair cascading down her
dark brown back, the fold of her tunic ending just above her buttocks in
tantalizing pleats and folds; a rustle of cloth revealing a glimpse of her
breasts, dark nipples on shapely mounds; her tunic sliding off one shoulder
with a wink and a smile.


Titus's body began to quiver and his cock swelled, engorged. His hand left
his nipple and cupped his scrotum, fondling his balls. His tip leaked clear
precum, which was caught by his quickly moving foreskin. His abdomen
contracted and relaxed, each muscle clearly outlined. Titus breathed
heavily, relishing the feeling of his cock in his hand--the thick shaft
with its slight upward curve and network of veins, the curly blond hairs
that stopped just at the base, and the proud pink head that was leaking
even more than before. He used his palm to stimulate the tip, rubbing in
quick circles and sending new pulses of pleasure through his legs and
torso.


The images in his mind shifted and he saw Camille fully nude, her ebony
body moving slowly towards him. She reaches down and grasps him, her eyes
widening with excitement. She lowers herself onto him, the tip of his cock
resting just inside her lips. And then he thrusts up, filling her up and
eliciting a gasp of pleasure.


Titus was reaching his climax, his scrotum contracting and bringing his
balls up to his body in preparation. His breathing became audible and his
leg muscles flexed wildly. In his mind, Camille moved faster and faster,
her breasts bouncing lightly. Titus could almost feel the imagined warmth
and softness of her on his cock. He could see her dark eyes looking right
back at his, her smile egging him on.


And then her face became sharp and angular, her skin now a much lighter
shade. Her once soft jawline was now a thick, dark brown beard. Her eyes
were blue instead of black, and they looked at Titus with an intensity that
frightened him. Her shoulders were wide on top of a muscular chest covered
with black hair that went down in between sculpted abs and ended above a
hot, pulsing cock that was thrusting inside Titus. Camille had become his
teacher, Les.


Les's strong hands gripped Titus's sides as he moved, never breaking eye
contact. Titus's groin ached as he imagined being penetrated, and he could
feel the cum building up inside himself. With a loud cry, he ejaculated
powerfully, sending ropes of white seed onto his chest and the grass behind
his head. Rivulets formed on his stomach as the cum began to run off and
pool on the ground beside him. Titus's muscles relaxed and he opened his
eyes, momentarily blinded by the bright summer sun. He released his
softening cock and breathed deeply, overwhelmed with post-orgasmic bliss.


Titus gave a sharp intake of breath as he realized what he had done. He sat
up and began to sweat. Never once had his teacher entered his thoughts like
that, let alone a man. He had always imagined wide hips, soft breasts, and
long hair while he was touching himself, but he couldn't deny how powerful
his climax had just been. The idea of Les, the man who had taught him
Socrates, as a sexual being was almost incomprehensible. But Titus had made
him just that: a strong, virile man that had been fucking him without
mercy. Titus could still feel Les's firm hands on his sides, the imagined
sensation lingering in the deep layers of his skin. Titus shivered,
suddenly cold, and brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around
them.


Men that had sex with other men were certainly common in the FPNR and even
in New Caledonia City, but not amongst the Elite. Titus didn't know anyone
in his father's circles or at school who was like that, at least as far as
he knew. Now that he thought of it, there must be some Elite homosexual
men, but those attractions were seen as base and animalistic; strictly for
the Common, who were chattel in all but name and law. Titus had heard
rumors about the way the poorer Common people lived hedonistic lives,
existing solely for their own pleasure. The Elite pursued knowledge, while
the Common pursued pleasure, that's what everyone knew.


Titus could feel his seed starting to get into the crease of his upper leg
where it met his torso. He stood up slowly and looked down. His softening
member was still shiny with cum, and he hated the feeling of being sticky.
Titus waded into the pond and rubbed himself clean, flipping onto his back
and looking up at the leaves of the shade tree above him. He tried to think
of Camille again, but he gave up after Les's face kept appearing instead of
his neighbor's. Titus rolled back on his front and dressed after exiting
the pond and shaking off the last drops of water. The sun was getting
higher in the sky, and his father would wake soon. Today he would take
Titus to the baths to meet his business associates as a precursor to the
festivities of Titus's majority that would take place that night. Titus
slipped the soft fabric of his new tunic onto his frame and padded back to
the villa, an imprint of his body left in the grass beside the pond.