The Mentor
By Kiernan Kelly

The stands were nearly full today, as was to be expected since the time drew near for the gymnasiarchs to choose which of the smooth and strong-limbed youths would compete in the Olympic games. Siromos took his customary seat near the lower far left where he could best observe the oiled bodies of the wrestlers as they grappled with one another on the white sands of the gymnasia. One in particular had long caught his eye, a fair, flaxen-haired youth known by the name of Doros, the son of a prominent philosopher. This boy had shown athletic talent, but beyond that to Siromos' mind Doros' body neared perfection and it was that which had brought him back day after day to the gymnasia. The boy was an enigma among the other young athletes, all of whom seemed so ordinary when standing next to the golden-haired youth. Such pale locks, combined with his ivory skin, clear green eyes and even, delicate features set him apart from his darker fellows as much as his athletic talent.

The boy, not yet having seen the full turn of his eighteenth year moved with a grace that belied his youth, his sharply defined muscles moving fluidly beneath satin skin as he bent and stretched himself over and around to pin his opponent and win another match. A thigh quivered as Doros tightened the muscles in his legs to ensure the hold he had gained over his opponent would not falter, giving Siromos renewed appreciation for the firm, taut buttocks that he had long admired.

Months had past since Siromos had made the decision to court Doros, to seek his agreement to become Siromos' eromenos. Following tradition, Siromos had announced his intentions to become the boy's mentor by sending a message to the boy, followed soon by a gift of considerable value - a fabulous pair of peacocks imported from India. He found that the strain on his money purse had been worth it since the gift had been accepted, indicating Doros' consent to Siromos' attentions. Since then they had met several times in public gatherings, most recently at a symposia, where they had lain together on a sofa drinking sweet wine and listening to the musician's lyre.

It had been too short a night in Sirimos' opinion, for having the tawny youth stretched out against him, his sleek, smooth skin warm against Sirimos' own had been quite pleasurable. As was usual with older men and their young friends at such gatherings, Sirimos had used the boy to gain sexual release. Sirimos had rubbed his cock along the crack of Doros' sweet, rounded ass until he had come, coating the boy's back with his sperm. He had yet to penetrate the boy though, and planned to rectify the situation that very night.

Today, after Doros had been chosen to compete in the Olympic games - of which Siromos had no doubt he would, having already spoken with several of the gymnasiarchs - Siromos would make clear to Doros his intention to take their relationship to a much more physical level. He had been a mentor to Doros, had brought him into the inner sanctum of the circle of influential friends of which Siromos was a part, by example had taught the boy integrity, honesty and patriotism, and the time had come for Doros to show Siromos his appreciation for his erastes' time and concern. Tonight Siromos would indulge himself fully in the sweet flesh on which he had taken his pleasure only superficially up until this moment .

The last match ended and a cheer went up in the stands as the gymnasiarchs crowned their Olympic hopefuls with floral wreathes, symbolic of the laurel wreath bestowed upon the winner of the Olympics. Siromos noted the smile furtively thrown him by Doros as he proudly stood to receive his wreath, and returned it with a slight nod. Overt gestures of affection exchanged between the erastes and his eromenos would not be appropriate here in the gymnasia, reserved for the privacy of the erastes' house or private parties. Exchanging a few words of gratitude and praise with the gymnasiarchs while Doros donned his thigh-length tunic, it was directly to his house that Siromos led his young friend.

Siromos' house and wealth had come from his father who had met his death in battle just after the time of the previous year's harvest. His father had been a warrior of some renown, and his lands had been granted him as a boon for a victory won. The spoils of war brought back with the battle-scarred soldier from afar had kept his father's coffers full, and contributed to Siromos' privileged upbringing. During Siromos' early years he saw his father little, but it had always been assumed that Siromos would follow in his father's footsteps becoming a fierce and successful soldier.

Siromos, however, had shown no interest and little aptitude for his father's line of work, much to the oft-lamented disappointment of the elder. Nevertheless, as a boy he had been trained in academics and athletics, as were all boys of noble households, and in addition, swordplay and spear-handling. Siromos had not had the benefit of an erastes, for not many saw value in becoming the mentor of one destined for the army. Instead, at the age of nineteen, when the first dusting of fuzz had appeared on his chin and between his legs, he had been taken from the gymnasia, given a helm and sword and a place in the phalanx of his father.

Fair of face and still fairly smooth-skinned, he had not served a fortnight before his virginity had been taken at the hands of a soldier in his father's phalanx. The soldier had been a hairy and uneducated bear of a man, and had it not been for the large amount of barely diluted wine Sirimos had drunk he would never have given his consent to lay with him. The soldier, overcome with lust and assuming that one as beautiful as Sirimos must have been experienced, had taken Sirimos face down in the mud of a field, penetrating the youth's untried rectum without oil or preparation.

Found bleeding and weeping by his father and led nude and sobbing through the encampment, he had been further taunted and humiliated by the soldiers under his father's command. Afterwards, Sirimos had bitterly and publicly denounced his father's lifestyle, and had suffered the lash for his outburst. Sent home to his mother's skirts in disgrace, his father had nonetheless relented and paid for him to complete his education and to apprentice himself to an aged sophist. At the old man's side he learned the craft of public-speaking and therein found his calling, excelling far beyond the elder's expectations of him and becoming one of the most sought-after teachers of the art in the city.

Successful before having seen his twenty-sixth summer, with his father's death Siromos had found himself master of a large house and olive orchard, as well as double handful of slaves. Siromos' mother and two sisters had been sent to an uncle in Argolis, one who had always coveted his brother's women and to whom Siromos was still profoundly grateful since he'd no wish to pay for their keep himself. Empty now, except for the slaves who were trained to serve unobtrusively, the large and spacious walls of Siromos' house echoed with blessed silence, filled only with the sound of Siromos' own voice as he practiced his craft and taught it to others, or with laughter and song on the occasion that he hosted a group of gregarious men and boys at a symposia.

One afternoon, a man of Siromos' acquaintance had invited him to join the man for an afternoon of spectating at the gymnasia, where young boys were being groomed as potential competitors for the upcoming Games. Having had no clients that afternoon, Siromos had agreed and had quickly become enamored of the pale, golden-haired Doros as he had watched the boy train naked on the sands. Since his first experience that had left him battered and ridiculed Sirimos had taken few lovers, but he found lust heating his groin each time he returned to watch Doros train. Soon after, he had made his intentions known to the boy and had begun the friendship and mentoring which had led to this afternoon.

"You did well in that last match, Doros. I thought for a moment that he had you, but you countered well," Siromos said amicably, walking his young protégé through the gate of his house into the large, open courtyard and slipping his arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Never did he have me. I am stronger and faster than he...but it would not have made for a good show had I pinned him too quickly," Doros answered. He was comfortable enough with his mentor to be honest with him, exhibiting none of the false modesty that would have been prudent if he had been speaking with another.

"True! You have filled my purse time and again by winning wagers for me," Sirimos laughed, finding the boy's honesty refreshing, as always. "Tell me, Doros...are you happy with our friendship?" he asked, as he led the boy into the megaron. The largest room in the house, it held several couches and tables for entertaining, and Sirimos was pleased to see that his servants had already provided a large platter of grapes and cheese, a beautifully crafted ewer of wine, and a small vial of oil set on a nearby table for their master's use.

"Of course," Doros answered, his cheeks coloring prettily. He knew what Sirimos was going to ask of him - had in fact been expecting it for quite a while - but now that the moment seemed at hand he wasn't quite sure what his reaction would be to it. Doros was under no obligation to accept Sirimos' advances, but the boy had no wish to hurt his friend's feelings either. Up until now the man had merely rubbed his cock on Doros' ass, sometimes reaching around the boy's waist to fondle him as he did so. Doros had always enjoyed that, both the feel of his erastes' hands on his body and the hot wetness of his mentor's seed on his skin, but knowing that Sirimos would wish to enter his body made the boy worry.

Sirimos was quite fair to Doros' eyes, having the body of a warrior although he served as a teacher. His hair was blacker than night, falling in carefully oiled curls to brush his broad shoulders, and his eyes were the darkest and deepest Doros had ever seen. More than his handsome looks and firm body, Sirimos had been kind and generous to Doros, having plied him with gifts and soft compliments since their first meeting. The youth, being as golden as the sun and possessing the sculpted body of an athlete had been admired by many, but Sirimos had been the first potential suitor to whom Doros had seriously considered pledging himself. Still, Doros found himself nervous, apprehensive and unsure, no matter how attracted he was to the man.

Sirimos paused near the table that held the food and wine, filling two silver cups with the rich, albeit water-diluted, ruby liquid from the ewer. He handed one to Doros and toasted him on his victory.

"You will do well in the Games...may the gods smile upon you!" he said as he lifted the cup to his lips, watching the youth over the rim as Doros drank to his toast.

Taking the cup from Doros' hand, Sirimos set both aside on the table and turned to face the youth. Nearby, the couches draped with silks and soft cushions tempted Sirimos to simply throw the boy down and fuck him hard and fast as he had so often fantasized since first setting eyes on the fair-haired youth, but propriety, as well as the memory of his own initiation, demanded another course of action. Instead, Sirimos contained his lust and, placing one hand under the boy's chin, he looked deeply into Doros' sea-green eyes as he reached under the hem of the boy's short tunic and lightly cupped the youth's smooth balls in the palm of his hand.

As was normal for youths his age, Doros' body was hairless and had been oiled for his athletic training; his sac felt smooth and silken in Sirimos' hand as the older man gently kneaded it between his fingers. Sirimos felt his own cock harden beneath his tunic as he slipped a finger further back, sliding it across Doro's perineum toward his anus.

Doros averted his eyes from his mentor's and bit his lower lip as he felt the man's hand touch him. Try as he might, he couldn't help the small gasp that fled his lips as Sirimos' finger, tickling at the small, puckered opening that lay between his cheeks, sent a jolt of warmth through his groin. He felt his cheeks flame and his ears burn as his cock came alive under his tunic despite his misgivings over where this was leading him. As his cock grew and his balls swelled in Sirimos' hand, he made his decision. Flicking his eyes up toward his mentor's, Doros reached down and shyly pulled up the hem of his tunic, baring his fledgling erection to Sirimos' gaze to show the man who fondled him that Doros' body was reacting favorably to Sirimos' touch.

A small, satisfied smile graced Sirimos' shapely lips as he eyed the boy's cock thickening and hardening with Doros' arousal. The boy's sac firmed and swelled in his palm, further evidence that Doros was enjoying Sirimos' advances. His hand left the boy's balls and wrapped itself around the heat of Doros' erection, the delicate skin like warm velvet under his fingers. A drop of moisture beaded at its head as Sirimos drew back the foreskin and ran his thumb over the slit. Bending his head, Sirimos swiped his tongue across Doros' full lips, tasting the wine that had wetted them a few moments before.

Doro's lips parted as Sirimos' warm, wet tongue touched them, allowing his erastes to slip it between them and enter his mouth. As Sirimos' tongue danced over and under his own, a large hand cupped the back of the boy's head, pulling him deeper into the kiss, and allowing Doros to feel Sirimos' own cock press against his belly through the thin fabric of their tunics. His erastes' fingers gently stroking his erection awoke a hunger in the boy that Doros had been unaware he had held, giving his tongue the courage to explore the hot, wet cavern of Sirimos' mouth in return, and his hands the bravery to slide around Sirimos' hips to cup his mentor's firm ass cheeks through his tunic.

That Doros was young and untried had never left Sirimos' mind even as his cock ground itself against the boy's pelvis, and Sirimos was not unaware that his eromenos would spill before long at this rate. He pulled away from the boy's lips, his hand leaving Doros' cock as Sirimos stepped back and relieved himself of his tunic, standing nude before his protégé's widening eyes.

Doros had seen Sirimos' nude body many times before as they had often shared time in the communal baths, and it had haunted his dreams ever since he had first laid eyes on the rippling muscles and olive skin of his erastes. Doros had witnessed his mentor's cock in a full state of arousal as he had at one time or another plunged it into the willing backside of a wine pourer or slave-boy, and he had felt Sirimos' erection as it had rubbed against the bare skin of his buttocks. Tonight, however, the sight of it, thick and reddened with desire as it loomed frighteningly large before the boy's eyes, sent a finger of fear tickling at Doros' spine as he pictured that heavy shaft piercing his own small and delicate bottom. Still, his own body had been lifted by the man's fingers to a needful state, and he pulled his tunic over his head, discarding it on the floor.

Sirimos took a moment to appreciate the sight of Doros' body, still glistening with oil from the training sands and now bearing a hard cock and full sac from Sirimos' attentions. He was exquisite, firm and smooth and ripe, flawless golden skin stretched taut over the muscles of an athlete's well-trained body.

"Beautiful one...beloved one..." Sirimos murmured as his eyes roamed over the silken skin of the boy. "The gods themselves must gaze upon you and smile for your beauty is in league with their own."

He reached out and ran a thumb over a small, peach-colored nipple, already hardened into a tight peak by the boy's arousal, then rubbed the tiny nub between his thumb and forefinger until Doros gasped and arched into his touch. Smiling and taking hold of Doros' elbow, Sirimos led him to a nearby couch.

Sitting himself back on the soft cushions Sirimos placed his hands on Doros' slender hips, guiding the boy down to sit straddled on the man's lap. Their erections rubbed lightly against one another's and Doros' hips unconsciously thrust forward as his body instinctively sought more friction. He laid his arms around his erastes' powerful shoulders, giving Sirimos his complete trust.

Reaching over to the small table, Sirimos grabbed the vial of oil that had been placed there by his servants, and uncorked it. The musky scent of sandalwood filled the air as Sirimos poured a small amount of the thick oil into his palm. Looking again at the beautiful face of his young friend, whose eyes were averted but whose cheeks were flushed with his need, Sirimos slicked his cock with the viscous liquid.

Sliding his hands under the boy's ass, Sirimos kneaded the firm flesh of Doros' cheeks with his palms before sliding a finger between them. He rubbed gently at the boy's anus, applying oil to the puckered hole. Slowly he slid his finger past the clenching ring of muscle into Doro's channel, groaning softly as the hot silken walls of the boy's rectum squeezed it. Doros hissed through his teeth and his body reacted by trying to dislodge the unfamiliar intrusion, but that only served to strengthen the grip of his rectum around Sirimos' finger and send jolts of pleasure to the erastes' cock. Ignoring Doros' soft moans, Sirimos slipped another finger alongside the first into the boy's slicked channel, scissoring the two digits and slowly stretching the muscles of Doros' rectum.

With his free hand Sirimos gripped Doros' cock, now softened by the discomfort of having his rectum invaded by his erastes' fingers, stroking it back into fullness. The boy grunted as his cock responded again to Sirimos' hand, and lay his head against the man's shoulder. As Sirimos' fingers moved within his ass and brushed his prostate sending a current of pleasure ripping through his cock, Doros began to move against them. When Sirimos' fingers left his anus, Doros was surprised to find that he missed their intrusion and he growled and thrust into Sirimos' hand in protest.

Laughing softly at his eromenos' newfound mettle, Sirimos put both hands around Doros' slender hips and lifted him up. positioning the boy's ass over the man's glistening erection. With care, Sirimos slowly lowered Doros down until the head of his cock pressed against the boy's prepared opening. Groaning, Sirimos threw his head back as the boy's weight impaled the slender youth's body onto the man's rigid cock until he was fully sheathed in Doros' rectum and the boy's balls again rested on Sirimos' thighs.

Doros bit back a cry of pain as Sirimos' engorged cock penetrated deeply into his virgin ass, his nails biting into the man's shoulder as he fought to remain silent. There was wetness in Doros' eyes that Sirimos could see, however valiantly the young boy struggled to keep his face impassive. By custom, as the adult male Sirimos needed worry only about his own gratification, but the beautiful and trembling boy held impaled on his cock moved him more deeply than he would admit to anyone. Sirimos was not unmindful of the boy's discomfort and forced himself to remain still for a few moments, his cock weeping and pulsing within the boy's channel, until he felt Doro's muscles begin to relax and grow accustomed to his girth.

Finding that he could wait no longer, Sirimos took Doros' hand from his shoulder and placed it on the boy's again flaccid cock, encouraging his eromenos to stroke himself as Sirimos gripped Doros' hips with his hands. He lifted the boy slightly, then began to thrust his cock upwards into Doros' ass, burying it to the root before withdrawing and again pushing himself fully into the tight rectum of the boy.

The pain of Sirimos' cock filling his ass burned like the very fires of Hades, and Doros could not help crying out. Still, he had felt the pain of injury many times on the training sands, had felt the sting of the switch of his gymnasiarch for misbehavior or lack of enthusiasm, and soon found the discomfort of being stretched and filled by his erastes' cock fading, replaced by a need that grew more intense with each deep thrust into his rectum. His hand pumped rapidly over the tender foreskin of his own cock as his balls bounced lightly against Sirimos' thighs, and a warmth that had started in his belly quickly grew into a passionate fire as he brought his cock to its previous hardened and engorged state. Doros found himself willingly lifting his ass and thrusting downward onto Sirimos' cock, riding his friend's erection wildly as his own cock began to weep, his release boiling in his gut. Crying out loudly, his back arching and every muscle in his young body tightening with pleasure, Doros' climax swept over him like a tidal wave obliterating every sight and sound as his cock pumped thick white ribbons of seed over his fist and across Sirimos' belly.

The muscles of Doros' already tight rectum squeezed almost painfully around his cock as the boy came, milking Sirimos' orgasm from him. Thrusting hard into the boy's ass, his cock flooded Doros' passage with thick, hot sperm as Sirimos cried the boy's name to the gods. He fell back against the cushions of the couch, pulling Doros flush against his chest, leaving his cock to soften still buried within the boy's rectum.

"Never have the gods given any man a gift as sweet as you, Doros," Sirimos whispered into the boy's golden hair, once his breath had returned enough for him to speak. He smoothed his hands over his young lover's sweat-slicked back, following his spine down to his rounded bottom. Cupping the boy's ass with his palms, he lifted him slightly and allowed his limp cock its release from Doros' still clenching rectum.

Doros could do nothing but whimper softly into crook of Sirimos' neck, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around the older man's shoulders as his body continued to tremble in the aftermath of his orgasm. It seemed to Doros that it was over nearly as quickly as it had begun, and too soon his mentor was urging him up from the security of his lap. He kissed Sirimos lightly, almost chastely, on the lips, then leaned his forehead against that of his mentor.

"Must we move from here? I am content to stay here, pressed against you until cock crows."

"Would that it were proper for us to do so, but alas, the hour grows late and we must bathe before retiring. You would not wish to lay here covered in sweat and seed all night, would you?" Sirimos laughed, utterly taken with his bewitching eromenos.

"Of course I would prefer to be clean, but I also do not wish to move," Doros replied, gaining another chuckle of amusement from his benefactor. Sighing, he removed himself from Sirimos' lap, and took hold of his hand as his erastes led him to the bathing chamber.

They would bathe together, attended by Sirimos' servants, then dine. Dependent on his erastes' mood, he might again wish to enter Doros' body before the night grew too late and the god Hypnos lulled them both into sleep. Doros hoped that it would be so...he would only be allowed to share this intimacy with Sirimos for the next year or two. At nineteen or twenty years at the latest, at the first sign of a beard, Doros would achieve the exalted status of 'adult' and lose his appeal as a hairless, soft and sweet youth. Such acts of intimacy between two grown men was, while not forbidden, frowned upon by society, and their relationship as erastes and eromenos would end.

Shortly after his own emergence into adulthood, Doros knew that he would be the one in the stands watching the young boys, naked and oiled, as they trained in the gymnasia. It would be time for him to choose an eromenos, to become an erastes himself, taking a young boy under his protective and instructive wing, and hopefully, into his bed.

The End. Erastes...literally translated as "boy-lover. Eromenos...translated as "beloved." Gymnasia...translated as "place to be naked." Gymnasiarch...translated as "trainer at a gymnasia." Megaron...(men's room) largest room in an ancient Greek home, specifically built for the holding of symposia. Sophist...teacher of public speaking. Symposia...drinking party