Naked, one was lying with his head thrown back, resting on his left elbow, his giant thews stretched out in the dust; the other was leaning over him, supporting his huge torso in his left hand, almost as if the sculptor had conceived them as a pair. As far as I could see, they were as identical as twins, or the sculptor had used the same model for both pieces. Pieces! Their huge salamis of dicks hung thickly and loosely across their quads: the lying one had his carved into, onto his quad, gravity pulling the weight toward the ground; the other’s was hanging down clear towards his companion.

I took off my jacket and, as I brushed some of the dust off their sensual marble bodies, some kind of shockwave went through me. A wave of copathetic sympathy, or the stirrings of desire? Anyway, for a moment that oh-so realistic marble seemed to pulse with energy. As my own dick hardened and rose to its own magnificent proportions, staing the front of my tan trousers with precum, I knew I had to have them.

To cut a long and arduous story short I bartered briefly with the old guy who seemed equivocal as to whether he wanted to sell them or get rid of them. He did go so far as to quiz me closely as to what I would do with them before we reached a surprisingly reasonable settlement. When I had forked over the necessary amount he warned me: You may be getting more than you bargained for - but (squeezing my biceps) I can tell you are worthy of them. What he meant by that last remark I couldn’t imagine - unless he was referring to my own sizeable muscles revealed by the teeshirt that was now clinging damply to my body - and the obvious cumstain on my pants. •