[Fantasy] Mediterranean Love and Hatred

Foreword

I find writing stories about married women quite difficult. I don't believe married women are a promiscuous group in reality, so my stories are unlikely to feature couples who immediately become passionate. I prefer to write stories about men and women against the backdrop of a grand historical era. Having usually written stories with an Eastern background, I wanted to try a different style this time. I'm not sure if Scipio Africanus, the Roman general, is very popular in China, but I know that although he was Roman, he yearned for a Greek pastoral life. He was chivalrous, but not promiscuous. He was relatively merciful to his enemies, but hated those who betrayed him. Sophomores was a peerless beauty of Carthage, but unfortunately, beauties, like great generals, are not allowed to grow old. Therefore, I fictionalized the story of this unfortunate married woman who was wrongly chosen, but she didn't die and was rescued by Scipio Africanus, hoping to gain everyone's enjoyment.

Main Text

Chapter One: The Warrior's Name is Red

The vast Mediterranean Sea stretches for thousands of miles. From Iberia to the Adriatic, from Thrace to Sicily, all were embraced by this blue mother in her olive-scented arms, "Heavens, our sea!" [1]. And since that day, my nemesis and our once-invincible enemy have become a thing of the past. Joy and sorrow filled my heart at the same time, and with the ingrates in the Senate, I was in a terrible mood, and only self-exile could heal my wounds. When will you accept my heart, my dear Graneria?

It seemed to be morning when I entered the luxurious bedroom paved with pure white marble, and Graneria was lying on the expensive velvet carpet, as if she were still asleep, and I had only just woken up.

Graneria was an exceptionally beautiful woman, at least of all the women I had seen in the thirty-five years since I was born. Graneria wasn't her real name. Originally, she was called Sophielnaespa or something like that—oh, sorry, please forgive my terrible Bungaven pronunciation. She seemed unwilling to recall her painful real name, so with her permission, I'll call her Graneria for now.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating her pale tan skin. Her long, brown hair cascaded down her back like fine silk imported from distant Seres, a sight I never tired of. It wasn't that I didn't want to fly with her; frankly, I was very much looking forward to it. But until she agreed, I should not wake her. I should wait for her to wake naturally, when the female slaves would bring her a sumptuous breakfast. Then I could tell her my heartfelt words, hoping she would understand my predicament.

If you kill one person, you are a murderer. But when hundreds of thousands of lives are in your hands, even if you are not a conqueror, you are at least an executor. Unlike the Punic purple that the Romans were so proud of, we Romans revered red. Our helmet plumes and cloaks were crimson, and we preferred to see enemies fall in droves, their blood flowing like rivers. I was an exception; I didn't like massacres after the battle was over. But since I wore this uniform, I had no choice, because a warrior's name is Red.

—Excerpt from *The Secret History of the Republic: Private Notes*, Lucius Maccario. A dozen or so female slaves brought out breakfast. They came from Macedonia, Thrace, Pontus, Lydia, Spain, and even places I couldn't even name. Not a single Punic was among them, because I didn't want to upset Granier. Even my brothers who had fought alongside me on the battlefield laughed at me, saying I was so infatuated with a secondhand Punic. Although I knew they meant no harm, I could only smile wryly. After all, I had been shot in the balls by Cupid, that lovable plague god.

Graneria was still young, more than eight months away from her twentieth birthday, but she had already been married twice. Her second husband was Prince Massinissa of Numidia, with whom I got along very well. Oh, or rather, he used to be a prince, and now he was His Majesty King Massinissa, an ally of Rome. That's why my brothers called her "second-hand goods." But I didn't care. It wasn't like choosing a virgin priestess in a temple; you had to be a virgin to be eligible. I loved her, and that was enough.

But Graneria didn't love me. She only agreed to be taken away by me because she hated her second husband so much, and she wasn't allowed to touch her, or she would die on the spot. Once, when I tried to break my vow, she suddenly pulled out a dagger and held it to her throat, telling me that if I took one more step, I would have to collect her corpse. At the time, I was filled with hatred, but over time, I've come to like her stubbornness.

She hated all Romans because we Romans had utterly defeated her country and forced her second husband to give her poisoned wine. If I hadn't arrived quickly enough and frantically pressed on her stomach to make her vomit, she would no longer exist in this world. She hated Rome; even the name she accepted, Graneria, was Greek. I once asked her if she hated me, and she answered me curtly and expressionlessly, "Yes." But I told her, "I love you, even if you hate me." "If Rome decides to destroy my country, I will perish with my country." "I won't let you die," I calmly told her.

"You are not my husband, and I am not your woman; you have no right to decide my life or death." "Alright, let's not talk about politics, okay? How about I take you for a walk in the countryside in a few days? Or to one of my other estates for a vacation?" Seeing this, I wanted to change the subject.

I knew she hated Roman violence, so I tried to give her a Greek lifestyle, even though it wasn't much different from Rome, but I could tell she could accept the former.

"You're going to the Senate tomorrow for the meeting to decide on the final course of action against our country, right?" "Darling, let's not talk about this, okay?" I was getting impatient; I hated discussing this bullshit politics in front of women.

"Can you help me?"

"I told you, I'm just a damn officer, don't fucking talk to me about politics anymore! Can't you just leave me alone? I have my own stance too!"

I yelled at her for the first time, smashing a sunflower on the windowsill.

She covered her face and cried. I went over and hugged her, wanting to apologize, but she pushed me away and ran into the bathroom, sobbing. Frustrated, I ran my hands through my wavy hair and let out a long, heavy sigh.

*Karanir* (Latin for "long live")

Chapter Two: The Eternal City

Rome, the Eternal City, the heart of the Republic, the center of the civilized world, the most dazzling jewel of Europe—turning the pages describing the Republic's capital, one finds countless definite articles preceding Rome.

Magnificent temples, magnificent triumphal arches, the blood-soaked Colosseum, and bustling streets are all integral parts of Rome's organic whole, and of course, the brain of the Republic—the Senate—symbolizing supreme authority.

Yet today, I must don a white shawl and robe, wield a gaudy golden cane, and wear sandals to this filthy place I want to stay in for not a moment longer. Because it is a meeting concerning national policy, and attendance is mandatory.

Every time I step into the heart of the Republic, I know someone is about to attack me. Although my old rival, Fabius, has gone to meet Hades in the underworld, it doesn't mean the open and covert attacks against me will lessen. Ah, what is there to fight about? To avoid wasting your precious youth, you should only use it in two places: going to war and chasing after someone.

The guy who replaced old Fabian's foul mouth to rival me was named Marcus Percival Cato. He was a commoner born in the working class. I don't know how this guy, who'd read a few pages of a lousy book and given a few crappy speeches, managed to get into the Senate. I felt that no matter how well I did, he'd always find a way to find fault with me.

At this moment, he seemed to have noticed my arrival, which was normal. My group of cronies were whistling at me from the seats on the circular steps, and I responded with a pout, which probably already disgusted the hypocritical Cato.

"Hey, dear Publix, that gay Cato is staring at your cute ass and drooling!"

"Bullshit! I think it's you staring at those two black beans on his chest that made your oversized military tent stick up, isn't it?"

"Hahaha!"

After a barrage of dirty jokes, our whole group burst into laughter, the laughter was incredibly loud. This would undoubtedly infuriate the neurotic Cato, but that was exactly the effect we wanted.

The Senate consisted of three hundred senators and one thousand knights, with only the top one hundred senators having the right to speak, the remaining two hundred having only the right to vote, and the knights relegated to the role of pitiful spectators.

The meeting began, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, the Speaker announced the commencement of an assessment of the Punic final policy. My companions unhesitatingly voted in favor of my proposal to "sign a peace treaty, demand huge war reparations from the Punic, significantly reduce their regular military equipment, and support King Massinissa's suppression of them." This option was, of course, intolerable to Cato and his ilk, as their proposal was to completely annihilate the Punic state.

"Silence! Silence!"

The Speaker picked up his small gavel and began to strike it. "Now, let's begin the debate on the proposals!" I lifted my trailing white robe, descended the steps, and strolled to the center of the concave circular hall. I licked my not-so-dry lips and began my usual style of speech:

"My dear friends, first of all, I must tell you that we have won!" Because noisy conversations were allowed during the meeting, my buddies waved various lewd and obscene gestures, giving me silent encouragement with giggles.

"Before I returned home, I had already reached a preliminary agreement with the elders of Punic. They are willing to pay us 10,000 talents of gold as war reparations, to be paid in fifty years. They will only retain a minimal self-defense navy and disband all land forces except for the city defense troops used to guard their pitiful capital." I proudly proclaimed our advantage to all the elders and knights.

"We have essentially stripped a strong and beautiful woman naked!" When I said this, the hall erupted in laughter, and even the usually stern-faced Speaker couldn't help but chuckle a few times, except for the stone statue named Cato.

"And our esteemed gentlemen, represented by Mr. Cato, are thinking of killing this beautiful girl we could soon embrace and kiss! They want us to act like old virgins, shamefully using our left hands to solve this arduous task, friends!" I noticed Cato's face had turned pale.

"I think everyone here, except for one esteemed gentleman, has their own beautiful female companions. I won't say more about how to deal with this naked beauty, Punia; you know what I mean!" The hall erupted in cheers, several close friends even sticking out their tongues to demonstrate their nightlife skills.

"Mr. Publius, please watch your words. This is a sacred hall." Although the Speaker was also laughing so hard he clutched his stomach to avoid catching his breath, he still wanted to maintain the proper atmosphere of the meeting. As

soon as I finished speaking, Cato, with a deathly expression, rushed to the center of the concave hall, desperate to salvage the situation that was already relatively disadvantageous for him.

"I protest!" Cato launched into his madness right from the start.

"I protest! I protest! In this solemn and sacred hall, Mr. Publius, one of the elders, has uttered such vulgar and obscene language! I demand that, according to tradition, Mr. Publius be fined one tower of gold!"

"No problem, Your Excellency Mr. Cato, I will hand over the fine to your strong left hand, which is often stained with white liquid," I laughed, mocking the persistent madman. "

Hey, Publius, how do you know he's left-handed? Let me tell you, left-handed people always use their right hand to do things in the back of their thighs!" one of my close friends shouted.

The atmosphere in the hall was completely turned upside down, and unrestrained laughter filled the air. The Speaker tried to grab his little hammer to maintain order, but he suddenly realized that he had dropped it under his seat because he had been laughing so hard.

"Silence! Anyone who disrupts the meeting will be fined!" The Speaker picked up a small hammer and slammed it on the table.

"Weakening the Punicans is not enough. Have you forgotten the bloody lessons of the First Punic War? Have you forgotten the pain of the total annihilation at Cannae?"

"One-seventh! A full one-seventh of the children of our great Republic fell in pools of blood. Have you forgotten the heart-wrenching cries of the widows? Have you forgotten the grief-stricken tears of the mothers? Have you forgotten everything?"

It must be admitted that Cato's rebuttal was quite sharp.

"Mr. Publius, have you forgotten how our great Rome survived those tragic years? Have you forgotten the scene of that Punic commander named Hannibal wielding his spear and swaggering at the gates of Rome?"

The situation immediately began to change.

"What's even more shameful is that, as a son, have you forgotten who killed your own father and father-in-law? You unfilial son! You traitor!" *Clang! Clang! Clang!* The small hammer fell rapidly in succession. "Mr. Cato, if you continue with such blatant personal attacks, you will also receive a fine from me." "Moreover, as far as I know, Mr. Publius is harboring a Punic female spy! Right there in his seaside villa! And I'm not the only one who knows this!"

This damned bastard was actually turning his vicious tongue against Graneria.

"Have you fallen into the gentle embrace of a Punic woman and been brainwashed? Answer me directly, Mr. Publius!"

I knew that if I blindly retaliated now, I would undoubtedly fall into his trap of eloquence.

"I've also heard that you have a rather unusual relationship with Hannibal—our sworn enemy. Is there some unspoken agreement between you that if you can preserve the Punic kingdom, you'll receive an astronomical kickback? And then you'll use a small portion to bribe people while pretending to be a good guy?"

The situation is starting to turn against me.

"Don't trust the Punic! Only by completely destroying them can we achieve eternal security! If you don't want to see another tragedy like Cannae, if you don't want to be trapped behind the walls by Hannibal again, then please vote for the complete destruction of the Punic—this is the right proposal!" Cato's speech was very persuasive; many centrists had already been swayed.

"Furthermore, even if it costs me an additional one talents of gold, I will add a new proposal. I suggest that a fair, objective, and efficient investigation team composed of respectable people conduct an investigation into Mr. Publius's assets to see if he accepted political kickbacks from the Punic!" "You foul-mouthed bastard! How dare you slander the heroes of the Roman people like this!? Tonight I'll have your whole family…"

"Calm down, Lucius! Don't fall for their dirty tricks!" At the last second, I stopped a potential disaster from escalating. If this dragged on, it wouldn't be a matter of a fine.

"My esteemed Mr. Cato, first I must remind you: who led the Roman warriors to reclaim Iberia? Who led the Republican legions to capture the seemingly impregnable New Carthage? Who led the remnants of Cannae on an expedition to Africa without substantial naval support? And finally, who defeated Hannibal at Zama, the very man you claim gave me a political kickback, and achieved the most decisive victory in the war against Punic?"

"Has your conscience been eaten by jackals? Without the blood and sweat of me and my soldiers, would you still be sitting here yelling at me, at my dear friends?"

"You say I took kickbacks from the Punicans, then what is this 200 talents of gold that the Punicans promised to pay to the Republic every year? A fine for speaking vulgarities? You just said I harbored a Punic female spy in my villa, ha, I'd like to ask, besides you, you filthy old virgin, who here hasn't embraced a so-called Punic female spy?"

The laughter in the room returned, and the unfavorable situation gradually slipped back into my hands.

"You say you want to completely destroy the Punic kingdom? Fine, very well. But tell me, what do you have to destroy it with?

So many years of war have emptied the treasury and exhausted the people. If it weren't for King Massinissa and his powerful Numidian knights turning against us and helping me launch this counterattack, I think my soldiers and I would be buried in Punic territory long ago. Can you even afford to wipe out the Punic? With your paltry sum of fines? You should save those for proposing to some blind lady!" Amidst the growing uproar, the situation returned to its initial state. Cato's eyes were fixed on me, searching for a more powerful rebuttal.

"Now, Philip V of Macedon is poised to avenge our last attack. Respected Mr. Cato, do you have the resources to fight on two fronts? Oh, you certainly do! We all heard you confidently declare that even if you were fined an additional one tower, you would still submit a proposal. Friends, did you all hear that?" "

Yes! That fellow was so certain just now!"

"Tell him to pay another tower, ha ha!"

"Mr. Cato, you are so wealthy!"

At this moment, I had firmly grasped the initiative in the meeting. Shamefully, the only truly significant factor was still Philip V of Macedon.

The voting results were finally in: my proposal received 160 out of 298 votes (the proposer could not vote), Cato received 104 votes, and 34 abstained. Despite the twists and turns, the outcome was still relatively smooth for me, wasn't it? The only thing that surprised me, and made me smile wryly, was that both Cato, that stubborn old bachelor, and I each received a fine notice personally signed by the Speaker.

On the way back to the seaside villa, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't seen my wife Emilia in a long time. I felt guilty towards her; it would be unacceptable not to see her before returning home.

Chapter Three: The Interweaving of Past and Present

My real home is located in this magnificent city. As is well known, Rome is said to have been founded by Romulus among seven hills, and my home is on a high ground near the Verminal Hill in the southeast of the city. Incidentally, Verminal means "a place with many willows" in the Latin commonly used in the Republic.

The valley between the hills of Palatine, Capitoline, and Esquillino is where the city center is located. Before heading home, I bought a large amount of rare goods at the market: Pyrenean leathers, extra virgin olive oil from the Tyrrhenian coast, and of course, a Seres silk shawl. I even bought an expensive diamond necklace at the city's premier jewelry store. Oh, I wonder if hanging it around my wife's fair neck would attract that dreadful lecher Jupiter from mythology? Heh, just kidding.

The carriage slowly entered the estate lined with tall cypress trees. The maid looked at her master, who hadn't been home for almost three months, with surprise. She was about to go and inform the mistress, but I gestured for her to stop.

The male servant, understanding the signal, quietly pulled the carriage over and led it to the stables to add hay.

Gentle sunlight streamed through the windows, taller than a person, bathing Emilia Paula Emilius, who was playing the harp in a wicker chair, in a brilliant pure gold color in her light brown hair—she was truly a beauty.

I tiptoed closer to Emilia from behind, then reached out my left hand to blindfold her from behind, and with my right hand, I draped the string of jewelry that had cost me quite a few gold coins around her fragrant neck.

In the sunlight, the delicate white hairs on my wife's neck shimmered alluringly, and the linen fabric of her dress perfectly accentuated her milky-white back muscles. Coupled with the glittering jewelry, ah, was this Diana reincarnated?

"If you want to hug me, hug me from the front; it'll be easier that way," the clever Emilia said, having already seen through my intentions.

I immediately felt like a child who had done something wrong, ending my blindfolded prank and slowly walking towards my wife.

Emilia's father, Lucius Emilius Paulus—yes, my poor father-in-law—had once held a prominent position, serving as Consul of the Republic. After retiring, he held numerous other posts, his final title being Inspector, I believe. However, he tragically never returned from the famous battle between Cannae and Hannibal's armies.

My father, too, died in battle against the Punic, and he too had served as Consul. Even more strangely, my father and I share the same name—perhaps my father was lazy when naming me? My father, old Publius, always liked to lead from the front on the battlefield, as I used to do as well, but after he was felled by a Punic spear, I changed my ways.

Emilia was a beautiful girl, still a minor at the time. When she received news of her father-in-law's death, she wept for three days and three nights without sleep. Only after I vowed to avenge her did she temporarily set aside her grief and close her tear-stained, swollen eyes.

At that time, that damned old Fabien was still alive, terrified by Hannibal's defeat. He frequently led his massive army like a tail following the invaders, never daring to engage in a single battle. Hannibal mocked him as a dragging, worn-out shoe, but he shamelessly claimed he was preserving his strength to wait for the enemy to tire themselves out, even calling this cowardly behavior the "Fabian Strategy," allowing the enemy to roam freely in the heart of the Republic.

After the disastrous defeat at Canney, I desperately broke out, but most of my friends and troops perished there.

Old Fabien, even more arrogant now, peddled his "Fabian Strategy" everywhere, never daring to raise a middle finger at Hannibal until his death. Old Fabius's son was also pursuing Emilia at that time, but the young girl rejected him without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to be part of a eunuch family." Emilia then wrote me several passionate letters, encouraging me to overcome my difficulties and forge ahead, and telling me that she would be my bride when she came of age.

After Cannae, the Republic was filled with pessimism. A group of spoiled brats, represented by Metrus, even planned to flee Rome. Because they started this trend, even the Senate eventually wavered.

The situation was dire. These damned cowards were unworthy of being called men. I led my father's old men into Metrus's house. That son of a bitch was actually packing his bags to leave. I remember kicking him, scattering gold and silver coins all over the table, and then pressing my sword against his throat.

"I'll give you two choices: either die, or come with me to the street and announce to everyone that you're joining the army!" "Isn't there a third option?" Metrus asked me in terror.

"Not that there isn't, if you don't mind me cutting off your two decorative testicles." Metrus screamed in terror, "Don't cut them off!" Circumstances were against him, and in the end, he was reluctantly dragged to the square and made to announce to the citizens that he would join the army to fight the enemy. Who dares to say that the power of the people is insignificant?

Faced with the strong public demand for resistance, the Senate had no choice but to take the pro-war route.

"I admit Hannibal is a master of mobile warfare, but he is by no means invincible." Unfortunately, no one was willing to listen to this then-young nineteen-year-old—they called it "dreaming." The "Fabian strategy" remained the mainstream approach against the Punic commanders. Even my usually brave and skilled father and uncle patted me on the shoulder and said, "Young man, never underestimate the enemy." Five years passed in the blink of an eye, and my father and uncle received orders to go to Iberia to fight. Our opponents were Hannibal's brothers, Hasdrubal and Hanno, whose fighting skills, though not as good as their brothers, were not incompetent.

Not long after, the devastating news of my father and uncle's deaths arrived—a bolt from the blue. It is said that my father was fighting well, but at the crucial moment, he fell into his old habit of heroism. After hearing that the locals planned to defect to the Punic army, he took only a thin guard and tried to stop them. As a result, he encountered the main force of the Punic army on the way, and my uncle, who rushed to the rescue, was also surrounded. In the end, they both fell to the enemy's blades.

I had no time for grief; the mess in Iberia needed cleaning up. I volunteered to go to the Senate, hoping they would approve my taking troops there. Since everyone was stunned by the Punic attacks, no one wanted to take over, so my application, the only one approved.

Emilia's voice pulled me back to reality. She pushed me into a chair, then squatted down and began to undress me. My beautiful wife's nimble hands grasped my manhood and stroked it up and down, and it soon became erect.

"You bastard, you haven't been back for so long. You must have been with that Punic beauty so much that you forgot you even had a wife at home, right?"

My penis, red from Emilia's strokes, reached its limit.

"You might not believe it, but I didn't even touch her ass..." I said dejectedly. I knew she wouldn't believe it; it was too unbelievable, but I was telling the truth.

My bright red glans was enveloped by the warm, moist esophagus, and my left testicle was hungrily swallowed by my wife. Her teeth gently bit the shaft, while my testicles were squeezed tightly between her soft tongue and palate—it hurt, but it felt so good. The other testicle was held in Emilia's hand, her grip so strong it felt like it was about to burst. I couldn't help but cry out in pain.

"Oh, darling, be gentle. If you keep squeezing like that, you won't have any left to eat." Emilia spat out my swollen, saliva-soaked penis and half of my scrotum, then pulled the harp between us, rubbing the tip of my still-erect penis against the strings. A lewd melody immediately began.

"Ouch! Darling, don't do that! Darling! It hurts!" Even the hardest penis is still flesh and blood; it can't compete with metal strings.

"So what if you don't have anything to eat? I'm not like you, I can't stand it! I'm afraid you're the one who won't have anything to eat, right?" She said, pulling my scrotum against the harp strings again. She was clearly still angry with me

. "Ouch! Darling, I was wrong! I was wrong! I sincerely beg you to forgive me, please stop torturing my genitals!" I pleaded pitifully with my angry wife. It really hurt; I wasn't joking.

Several bright red scratches had appeared on the foreskin near the glans. The two testicles in my scrotum, though the abuse had finally stopped, were still trembling nervously.

"Now you know how powerful I am, right?" Through the harp that had severely damaged me, Emilia said to me, half angry, half smug, half wicked, half happy.

"When you're always chasing after other women, have you ever seen me hold you accountable? Why do you have to be so promiscuous, always going after Punic women? Even if you like Punic women, why did you have to pick Mr. Massinisa's ex-wife, the daughter of Punic General Gisgo? Do you think that bastard Gato hasn't smeared us enough with the charge of being a Punic spy?"

Emilia, being the daughter of a former governor, has a much broader perspective than most women, which I really admire.

I slumped in my chair, speechless.

Emilia still held the injured end of my penis, which was still stuck between the strings. Looking at the ravaged, red, and swollen thing, Emilia finally softened.

"Should we put some olive oil on it?" Emilia's anger seemed to have subsided; after all, punishing her husband's genitals wasn't her real goal, and it would be terrible if he actually hurt someone.

Although my enormous penis was injured, it hadn't yet fulfilled its purpose for the day, and the beautiful Emilia, using this novel form of punishment, held on tightly, causing it to swell even more.

"What lewd thoughts are you having now, aren't you? General Publix, the hero of the Roman people?" Emilia teased me, feigning annoyance, as she watched my penis grow thicker.

"I just want to sincerely apologize to you." I knew she was truly no longer angry with me, so I began to indulge myself. Her

warm mouth completely enveloped my scrotum, her tongue artistically cooking my two large testicles—it was incredibly pleasurable. The gap between the strings was already narrow, and watching my enormous scrotum stretch the two nearby straight strings into an arc, then being passionately savored by my charming wife in her small mouth, I couldn't help but feel immense pleasure.

Overwhelmed by intense pleasure, my erect penis, taut like a straight sword, pressed hot against Emilia's nose. The massive tip was gently caressed by her bangs, a few strands even clinging to the slightly damp crease of the glans, intimately entwined with the urethra.

"Oh, Emilia, you're a genius at creating pleasure!" The continuous onslaught of pleasure made me feel like I was about to "water the flowers" (a euphemism for ejaculation).

Unfortunately, Emilia wasn't buying my flattery. Her alluring mouth tightened its pressure on my scrotum, while her right hand incessantly stroked the shaft pressed against my face, causing my control over the impending ejaculation to rapidly diminish.

"E-Amy, I...I can't hold back! Oh!"

From the depths of my testicles erupted white lava hotter than Mount Vesuvius, a torrent of semen gushing forth.

Emilia closed her eyes, calmly shaking the gushing penis, her practiced movements proving her expertise in "watering the flowers."

First, a few shots landed on her beautiful light brown hair. After she adjusted the position of the penis, the semen was poured all over her delicate features without missing a single shot.

White waves washed over Emilia's ecstatic face, soon covering it completely with a thick layer of oil. Because breathing didn't stop even during lovemaking, the breath exhaled from Emilia's nostrils instantly created several small bubbles of semen gathered at the tip of her nose. The bubbles, though short-lived, still dripped after bursting, landing on Emilia's full breasts. The

long "watering the flowers" finally ended, even the harp strings were glistening with semen.

Diamond jewelry and a considerable amount of semen clung to Emilia's alluring cleavage. Watching this blood-pumping scene, I pulled the stick from my wife's hand, pushed the harp aside, and there were no longer any barriers between me and the semen-covered Emilia.

"This blissful time is far from over!" Perhaps that's what we both thought at that moment.

Emilia braced herself on the wicker chair, arching her back towards her husband. Her alluring entrance was fully lubricated, tempting him to insert his large member.

But my target was Emilia's anus! When my wife realized something was wrong, she tried to break free from her husband's embrace. But I held her tightly.

"You filthy bastard, don't go there! Ah, it hurts!" I could feel that Emilia's anus was indeed very delicate. As soon as I inserted the head of my penis, she cried out in pain. I quickly pulled out my penis, which had been stretching her tender anus until a large, frightening red patch appeared.

"Slap!" Emilia, tears streaming down her face, turned around and slapped me hard across the face.

"You womanizing scoundrel! Bastard! Don't treat me like a whore you can touch anywhere!" Emilia was furious.

"I'm sorry! Madam, I'll never do it again..." I quickly pulled her into my arms and coaxed her gently for a while before my strong-willed wife's anger subsided. The slap mark on my face still stung. After this profound lesson, I became much more obedient when thrusting into my wife's body.

"Oh, Publik, my dear husband, man, harder! I feel like I'm about to come!" Emilia trembled with pleasure, and at the same time, her hot tunnel began to contract tightly. All the signs of impending climax were exactly as she described.

I was like a nomad in the Near East who had received Darius's decree, relentlessly wielding my fleshy rod to pound into the depths of my beautiful wife. Each strong and accurate strike pushed us both to orgasm.

"E-Amy, I-I can't hold it in anymore!" I shouted loudly, but the speed of my thrusts only increased instead of decreasing.

"Give it all to me! Give it all to me! I want to be, to be a mother to a little one! Quick, give it to me!" Amy and I have a son and a daughter. My frail son has always been Amy's biggest worry. Now, Emilia, who is eight years younger than me, is willing to have another child. It's so exciting and wonderful!

Before reaching my limit, I inserted the tip of my penis deep into the end of the passage. "Is it about to the cervix?" My testicles throbbed violently, and most of the powerful semen that gushed out poured into Emilia's tender uterus. The excess fluid dripped down our thighs onto the exquisite marble floor, making me feel that it would be extremely slippery to walk on it.

In the afterglow of excitement, I found Emilia's flushed face so beautiful. I gently kissed the beauty beside me and stroked her skin, which was as white as the snow on the Alps. After a long time, my panting gradually subsided.

"What are you going to do with your Punic beauty?" Emilia nestled my head against her fragrant breasts, gently playing with my tawny curls.

"She has nowhere else to go but brothels and slave markets..." I honestly told my wife, who was already radiating jealousy.

"Hmph, I knew you wouldn't be willing!" Emilia huffed at me unhappily. The privilege of burying my head in her fragrant, high breasts for a nap was immediately gone, replaced by a slap that threw me to her calf.

"Alas, my lustful husband Publik, do you know? You'll die from a woman one day..." At this point, Emilia's tears fell again, making me feel both sad and guilty.

"Baby, don't cry, you know I'm a big jerk... I..." I couldn't believe my ears. Was this the legendary marriage? Turning a general who fought his way through piles of corpses into a timid, droopy cat.

"If, if we could really have another child this time, it wouldn't matter if you didn't come back. I'd just spend the rest of my life with the child." Emilia's tears hadn't even dried when she started joking with me, half-jokingly. I didn't know what her expression would be next; this was much harder than guessing the enemy's movements during a war. Alas, once a smart and beautiful woman becomes a wife, she's truly irresistible...

Chapter Four: Still Remembering Passion

He had been back from Rome for several days. He had been very busy these past few days, with friends and subordinates frequently coming and going from the seaside estate, seemingly discussing important political decisions.

Finally, after he finished his work, he happily took me to see the sea for several days in a row. The waves gently washed over the golden beach, and the distant docks were bustling with activity. The coastal scenery that we Carthaginians were familiar with was no longer what it used to be in our homeland, while Rome, as an enemy nation, had developed so much. They were originally just a land-based people...

He was a true Roman, of noble birth, wielding power over the world. He could govern an army on horseback and bring peace to the people on foot. While his talent in music and art wasn't top-tier, he possessed a keen eye for appreciation and critique. He wasn't exceptionally handsome, but better looking than the average man. He loved fine wine but didn't overindulge, and knew how to please women without being promiscuous. What surprised me most was that,

despite being a true Roman, he deeply admired the Greek way of life. His fluent and pure Greek accent flowed from his lips, even more authentic than his Latin, the primary official language of Rome, and we communicated in Greek.

"My dear Graneria, today I want to tell you that we have reached a peace treaty with your homeland." He smiled at me, and it was clear that, objectively speaking, he had tried his best to help me achieve my wishes at the Senate meeting.

"You've demanded quite a lot, haven't you?" I knew, of course, that this so-called "peace" was far from free.

"Yes, that's right. Your homeland will provide us with two hundred talents of gold annually as war reparations for fifty years, disband most of its army, and prohibit any war against any power without our permission." "This is a complete and utter treasonous agreement..." My heart ached as if it had been rubbed with rock salt, leaving me feeling utterly miserable.

"Furthermore, your country will send hundreds of noble sons to our country as hostages. That's roughly it. You know... I've done my best..."

I could tell he wasn't lying, and his pride wouldn't allow him to deceive a weak woman like me.

"Congratulations on your unparalleled achievement. After all, you ended the war, valiant Roman commander." "You should know that I didn't go to war solely for these honors. Your father, Gisgio, was killed by our people on the battlefield, yet before the war, we sat together, swords laid down, laughing and drinking. My father, uncles, father-in-law, and countless friends were also killed by your army, but I don't hate you. A soldier's death on the battlefield is an honor, and there should be no other resentment." "I can't be as magnanimous as you..." My father once told me that he and the young enemy commander had shared drinks in my first husband's tent. He said that the enemy was the most dignified and respectable one he had ever met, and compared to him, our country's elders were a bunch of despicable clowns. He said he wouldn't regret dying at the hands of this enemy. Now it seems his words have come true, as if it were all preordained.

"I don't want you to do that! You don't know, do you? I love seeing you so petty and sulking!" He turned into a mischievous child again, making a not-so-funny face that was truly unbearable to look at.

"Ha, finally seeing you smile. That gives me more satisfaction than defeating the great Hannibal." Mentioning General Hannibal, he reverted to his commander-in-chief demeanor.

"Now that the Senate has approved my proposal, it's time for you to go home..." he said slowly to me.

"I've already written to your great commander, who now wields immense power and is no longer the same as before. I've asked him to make proper arrangements for your future. I know you're unhappy here, and I know... it's time to let you go back... isn't it?"

He choked up as he spoke, "You know, I love you, I don't want you to leave me... really..." He bit his lower lip, desperately trying to hold back his tears, but they still spilled uncontrollably. "But I still want to thank the great gods for saving you through my hands and for allowing us to live together for almost a year. I should be content... You are free, dear Graneria, no, Sophnispa. There will be envoy ships to Punic next month, and I will arrange everything."

A month passed in the blink of an eye, and the Roman envoys to our country to conclude a peace treaty set sail. Before leaving, he didn't come to see me off, but entrusted his brother Lucius to bring me a short sword inlaid with a blue gemstone—my father's sword…

"My dear, please forgive the sadness this sight has caused you. It was found on your father while cleaning up the battlefield. Please take it back to comfort his spirit in heaven." Lucius relayed his brother's words to me verbatim.

The weather was clear, the water vast and blue. The ship quickly sailed away from the harbor, and Lucius politely waved goodbye to me from the shore. I couldn't hold back any longer. Ignoring the astonished looks around me, I rushed to the ship's side and cried out to the shore, "Why are you a Roman! Why!?" The sea gently rocked the ship, like a tender father singing a lullaby to his daughter in her cradle.

Chapter Five: Time Flies The Senate

, still the heart of the Republic, appeared even more magnificent and opulent than it had been fifteen years ago—all earned through a series of military victories. Macedonia in the Greek world had already submitted, demonstrating to the world that the once-renowned Macedonian phalanx had been defeated by the invincible Roman legions. In the distant East, we then waged war against the Seleucid Empire. My uncle Lucius and my sickly son returned to their homeland with the eagle banner of victory. Just as his brother was called "Africanus" (Conqueror of Africa), Lucius received the title "Achytix" (Conqueror of Asia), further enhancing our family's prestige.

However, the brothers were caught in a compromising situation by Cato and his forces regarding the post-war settlement with the Seleucid Empire. Upon hearing that Cato had accused him of embezzling 500 talents of gold in reparations sent by Seleucus, Publik, whose temper had become increasingly volatile in recent years, immediately pointed at Cato and shouted, "You shouldn't be asking where those 500 talents went, but where the 15,000 talents the enemy paid in reparations came from! Where did the newly added provinces of Spain, Africa, and Asia Minor of the Republic come from!" He then tore the account books presented by Cato to shreds in front of the Senate members before storming off.

On another occasion, during Cato's questioning of Publik's accusation of collusion with the Seleucid Empire, he refused to answer any of Cato's questions with utter contempt. When Cato threatened him with a huge fine, he scornfully remarked, "Today is the anniversary of my victory at Zama!" He then hummed a tune and left the Senate to join the procession, surrounded by a crowd. Most of the other senators followed him, leaving Cato all alone. This naturally escalated the conflict between the two to an irreconcilable point. Despite

being cleared of charges, he has become so self-destructive. I know that his current state is largely due to my incompetence as a wife, Emilia. Our only son is so weak and powerless, unable even to carry on this noble bloodline. Although Publix has never said anything to me and remains as loving as ever, I cannot pretend not to know; I must find a way.

"That woman, that woman can definitely do it, especially since Publix loves her so much… I heard Hannibal hasn't been doing well these past few years, I wonder how she is now…" "Amy, what are you muttering about?" Awakening from a sweet dream, I turned to look at Emilia beside me, who seemed preoccupied. I couldn't help but call out to her, but she didn't seem to hear me.

I reached out and gently squeezed her breast, finally bringing her back to her senses.

"What's wrong, darling?" I continued to knead Emilia's breasts, then simply slipped my hand inside her robe, playing with her two adorable one-eared bunny-like breasts.

"Oh, Publix, will we… still have children?" My wife looked at me with teary eyes; I knew it was about offspring again. But my poor child, he will never have the complete life he deserves like a normal person; he was born infertile.

To comfort my Amy, I kissed her with all my might. I was only fifty, and she wasn't old enough for sterilization yet; we couldn't give up. These past few years, Amy had been incredibly understanding. Even her anus, which she used to slap and refuse to let me touch, was now frequently filled with my thick semen. But no matter how many times we did it, it felt like a futile effort.

"Public, ah, give it to me, shoot it all in!" The passage of time had made Amy's vagina slightly loose and less lubricated, but how could I disappoint her and give up halfway?

"Darling, I...I'm coming!" I ejaculated all the semen that had accumulated in my testicles into Amy's vagina. To increase the chances of pregnancy, Amy always wanted me to help her do a handstand after I ejaculated, so that more semen would remain in her uterus and not leak out. This time was no exception.

"Stop doing that, Amy. It's not good for your health to keep lying down like that." I couldn't bear to see her working so hard.

"Stop talking nonsense, hold me tight!" Emilia stubbornly interrupted my advice. I hoped she would get her way.

The sun was already rising. I put on my slippers, and the servants helped me drape a dark red undergarment over myself, then covered me with a white shawl symbolizing the authority of a senator. Today I was going on another long trip. This time, my destination was Antioch, the capital of the Seleucid Empire. I would be going as the Republic's plenipotentiary envoy to sign a ceasefire treaty with the Empire's monarch.

As I left, Emilia gazed at me intently, then went inside without a word. I saw that her face was covered in tears of reluctance.

Chapter Six: Reunion in Asia

"Our Sea!"

The vast Mediterranean Sea has now practically become our inland lake, a slogan we've been chanting with particular fervor today. Thanks to this "inland lake," we traveled by boat and then overland, arriving at the palace of this Hellenistic Asian Empire in just over a month.

After a series of elaborate diplomatic formalities, Emperor Antiochus II held a private meeting with our Roman envoys.

Afterwards, the emperor introduced me to an unexpected guest and then departed. I gazed at this man; his aged hair was a mixture of gray and white, and his skin was loose, but his resolute eyes still shone with a chilling light. In my life, I've seen many eyes, but only this pair possessed such piercing gaze, sending a shiver down my spine.

"So it's you! Hannibal, the great commander, I salute you!" I lavished praise upon the man before me.

"How ironic! I, an exile, am hailed as a great commander by the very enemy who defeated me..." "You were not defeated; it was your country's shameful traitors who were defeated!" "Hahaha!" The two adversaries, who hadn't seen each other for fifteen years, clasped hands tightly—a reunion of heroes and champions.

We excitedly discussed everything from the raid on the Pyrenees to the Battle of Cannae, the most shameful defeat for us Romans, and from the heart of Italy to Iberia, Sicily, and North Africa. From Hasdrubal, Hano, King Sifax, and Gisgo of the Punic side to my own old Fabius, my father and uncle, my father-in-law and King Massinissa, we even talked about Alexander the Great and King Pyrrhus of the Greek world centuries ago.

Suddenly, I had a strange idea and asked the great Punic a question.

"Your Excellency, may I ask, throughout history, who can be considered a peerless general?" Actually, I had a selfish motive for asking this question. I knew the arrogant Punicans would certainly include themselves among them, and I, the only one who had ever defeated this great commander, would naturally rank quite high. The

great Punicans offered three names that would resonate throughout history. "In my eyes," one of them said, "the number one general is Alexander the Great. With a small army, he swept through the Greek world and the Persian Empire, his advance reaching as far as India. Even Seleucus, whom we are visiting now, is merely one of his legacies. Even centuries later, he will firmly hold the title of number one."

I nodded in agreement. Every general harbors a dream: to achieve military feats as immortal as Alexander the Great's. But so far, no one has been able to do so.

"Speaking of the second greatest general, I think it's King Pyrrhus. With a mere tens of thousands of soldiers, he was able to contend with the entire Roman army. Although his casualties were heavy, yours were even greater. His military prowess was divine; I dare say I cannot compare to him."

I was no stranger to the name of King Pyrrhus, a hero of the Greek world. He had always been my idol since childhood, and even though he was an enemy of the Romans, that didn't diminish my admiration for him.

"As for the third, I'm too embarrassed to introduce myself, hehe." The Punic man seemed quite smug at this point.

It turned out that in this Punic man's mind, only these three could be considered great generals. I was slightly disappointed, but then an even more interesting topic popped up.

"If you had won our duel at Zama, where would you rank?" I asked him with a smile.

Without hesitation, the Punic blurted out, "Then I will surpass even the Emperor! Who else in history could be the greatest general?"

This wasn't arrogance, nor was it boasting. If I hadn't imitated his tactics at the Battle of Cannae in that decisive battle, and if King Massinissa's Numidian knights hadn't arrived in time to join the fight, he would never have been defeated.

I commanded the finest Roman legions in the known world. They were well-trained, perfectly coordinated, experienced, obedient, and resilient—a tremendous advantage in itself.

This Punic, on the other hand, had a diverse cast of mercenaries from various ethnic backgrounds, whose skills varied greatly. They lacked a stable logistical support system, yet their unwavering trust in their commander allowed them to fight our most elite legions to the bitter end. Moreover, this Punic had traitorous politicians constantly sabotaging him. Even so, he still led his army across the Pyrenees Mountains, annihilating one-seventh of our legion at Cannae. For over a decade, he roamed our lands with unparalleled speed, and not a single one of us dared to challenge him!

"I agree with your point of view. I praise you again, great commander!" At this moment, I felt no resentment, only admiration for this unparalleled general.

"You are the best Roman I have ever seen!" the Punic said to me amicably. "I heard my old friend Gisgo say that to die at the hands of such a respectable opponent as you would not disgrace the honor of an old soldier."

"You are the best Punic I have ever seen! To have the honor of fighting you and to have survived is the greatest honor of my life." I told the Punic commander before me without reservation. If, and I mean if, all the Punic were as skilled in battle as him, how could we have defeated this great nation?

"I am the best Punic you have ever seen? I doubt it. I bet I'm only second best at best!" the Punic commander said to me with a smile.

"Is there someone stronger than you? Impossible! If there really is, how could I not remember them at all?

Tell me quickly, who is it?" I racked my brains, searching, but I couldn't recall any Punic who could have received such an honor.

"I... my dear... Graneria, when will you... accept... my feelings?" The Punic laughed so hard he almost fell over, uttering the answer haltingly.

Those words sound so familiar, huh? Isn't this something from my old diary? How did he know? Did Graneria tell him?

"Gennelia? Where is she!?"

"Haha, I told you I can only rank second at best!" Hannibal laughed even harder.

"It's different. You are the most outstanding Punic I have ever seen, and she is the most beautiful person I have ever seen." I defended myself with a self-deprecating laugh.

"Oh, is that so? Well, this most beautiful person is currently living in the Rose Garden Villa, the third building on the Bay Avenue in the Antioch harbor district. Don't you want to go and meet her?"

"Thank you, Hannibal, I have to go now. I'll definitely invite you to my home next time!" At this point, I was incoherent and ran out.

"Oh, but it seems your government doesn't want to let me in? Eh? Where is she?" The Punic commander teased his friend, who had just been sitting there discussing military strategy, with great interest, but the anxious Roman had already rushed out the door and disappeared without a trace.

"Hmm, I think if we're talking about the greatest fool of all time, it has to be you, hehe." The Punic in the room laughed happily to himself. He hadn't been this happy in a long time since he left his homeland to flee.

Chapter Seven: The Depths of the Soul

Leaving the palace, I rode my horse at breakneck speed towards the Rose Garden Villa on Bay Avenue in the harbor district. The horse quickly became exhausted and couldn't run anymore—how annoying! I immediately jumped off, not even bothering to tie it up, and trotted along in the elders' clumsy, lazy slippers. Just when I was completely exhausted, I realized I had reached Bay Avenue. It was about seven or eight kilometers from the palace—I had actually surpassed my physical limits!

The third building, the third building, the third building! Here! After countless twists and turns, I entered this not-so-luxurious mansion. A maid greeted me in what I couldn't understand—Persian or some other language. Not understanding Asian languages, I had to tell her in Greek that I was looking for someone.

"Who are you looking for?" the maid replied in broken Greek. Good, at least she understood Greek.

I described Graneria's appearance in detail to the maid. It had been fifteen years; perhaps my description of her then was no longer accurate?

"Hey-re-te?" A familiar voice entered my ears. I turned around, and Graneria, who had appeared in my dreams a thousand times, stood before me.

"You...is it really you? Publix!" Fifteen years had passed, and I hadn't expected Graneria to recognize me at first glance!

The aging Roman and the woman, who looked to be in her early twenties, embraced tightly. Her brown hair, mixed with gray, cascaded down her back, expressing the longing of fifteen years of separation. The maid, sensing the situation, went inside and opened the door for her mistress and the middle-aged man, who was covered in sweat.

At that moment, I was no longer Roman, and she was no longer Punic. There were only two innocent souls in the room, exchanging heartfelt words with the most primal and effective gaze.

"Won't you take a bath first?" I noticed the sweat stains all over my body, smiled apologetically, and stepped into the bathtub the maid had prepared for me, washing away the grime.

When I emerged wrapped in a towel, Graneria had already prepared a change of clothes for me.

I took the fragrant clothes and gently placed them aside, my hands trembling as I cradled Graneria's beautiful head, and then, without thinking, kissed her. When we parted, she was a vibrant young woman, not yet eighteen. Now, though she's over thirty, it seems she's been blessed by Princess Elisa, the progenitor of the Punic tribes. Time has barely left a mark on this beautiful woman; on the contrary, she's gained a captivating charm—something the Graneria of the seaside villa lacked. And I, my hair is already turning gray… "Say-ga-po!" I whispered to my beloved.

"Say-ga-po!" came Graneria's heartfelt reply.

Nothing and no one could separate us now; this was a dialogue and exchange between the deepest souls of two innocent children.

Our naked bodies intertwined, my lips began to kiss Graneria's dreamy, starry eyes and jade-like forehead, then her philtrum, cherry lips, chin, and neck. My hands gently rested behind her head, tracing the silky smoothness of her hair down to her porcelain-like shoulders. The intoxicating scent of civet cat emanated from Graneria's delicate body, entering my brain through my breath and accelerating my masculine reactions. I gently cradled

two short-eared white rabbits, each with only one ear, in my hands. Their small, pink, slightly cylindrical ears were so captivating. I couldn't help but gently suck on their adorable ears, my tongue circling the base of their ears. The rabbits were so soft and warm; I think even Ares's passionate desires would be rendered insignificant at this moment.

"Gisgo, you blind old bastard! Sending Graneria into the arms of Sifax and Masinisa was a complete waste!" Deep down, I felt a profound regret for Graneria's two previous political marriages. Fortunately, the nightmare was over, and I would forever cherish the lovely woman before me.

Before I knew it, my manhood began to remind me that I had to get to work. Graneria knew how to choose her moment; she stretched out her slender arm and grasped my member in her delicate palm, slowly kneading and caressing it.

The fleshy shell containing only two pearls was kneaded by Graneria with varying pressure, sometimes lightly like floating on clouds, sometimes heavily and intensely pleasurable. The tip of my fleshy rod had already been swallowed by her sweet, delicate mouth and gently bitten by her pearly white teeth. Watching the rod move in and out of her pretty, small mouth under the nourishment of her sweet saliva was incredibly pleasurable and intoxicating.

"Remember? You once risked your life to save me from the poison in my stomach?" Graneria pulled the meat stick out of her mouth and suddenly blurted out this question. "Sigh, what were you thinking back then? Why did you come to save me? Can you tell me now?"

"Back then?" I pressed Graneria's stomach like a madman, hung her upside down, and kept digging my fingers into her throat until my clothes were completely soaked with sweat. Only then did I manage to pour out the poison from Graneria's stomach.

"I promised you, at least I wouldn't let you see the Romans alive." These were the last words her ex-husband, Masinisa, said to her. Afterwards, I gave him a good scolding. It's not wrong for men to pursue power and status, but they can't disregard the women beside them in pursuit of these things, let alone poison them to death.

I have to admit that I am still an immature child in politics, and I will never be able to catch up with Masinisa. I heard he now has dozens of concubines. Oh, that must be an incredibly exhausting job, right? I wish him health and longevity.

"Back then, I was only thinking about how to save you, that was all I had in mind," I said with a smile as I awoke from the abyss of memory.

"Wait a minute, you probably also thought that if you could save me, you could have some bad ideas, right?" "Really, that was all I was thinking about."

"Alright, now I'm going to get all the poison out of you, so I won't owe you a favor," Graneria said with a smile, then shoved the rod into her warm lips again. Before long, the rod, as hot as Mount Etna, rapidly heated up, the magma in my scrotum boiling, desperately needing an outlet.

"Oh, Graneria, the poison is coming out! Oh!"

The clever Graneria sucked hard on the engorged penis, her left hand teasing the scrotum from time to time, while her right hand pinched the shaft with her thumb and forefinger. A gush of semen spurted out, and the beautiful woman swallowed it without hesitation. Then she temporarily released her thumb and forefinger, ready to savor the second rapidly ejaculating stream of semen. This cycle repeated itself endlessly, and she managed to swallow every last drop of the dozen or so thick streams of semen. Her technique was truly ingenious and clean.

"Your poison tastes really good, and there's so much of it. I'm almost burping from being so full," Graneria teased me, a middle-aged man, blushing.

I parted the long, slender legs of this goddess, between which lay beautiful, fragrant grass, from which a stream gently seeped. I swear, even Arcadia in the Peloponnese, a paradise on earth, could not compare to this valley, overflowing with fragrance and allure.

I licked that valley with my tongue, parting its delicate wings, and the joyful stream poured down upon me. It was so delicious and warm; to me, it was both the spring water of Mnemosyne and the spray of the Lyceum. It instantly transported my mind to a thousand miles and a hundred years, yet in an instant, I could forget it all, leaving only the desire to suck and swallow.

At this moment, at the tip of the wing, the lovely pea had swelled up. Unable to be in two places at once, I could only use the tip of my nose to chatter with this friendly pea maiden, and use one nostril to encompass my deep affection.

Soon the valley was fully moistened, and beneath her, Graneria, blushing shyly, writhed, her body and the fluids flowing onto the sheets suggesting she was ready.

"Save me! Publik, save me!" The beautiful princess called my name, which to me was more effective than any order from the Senate or a fascist lash. I wiped my sword, which had already released a large amount of semen; its swollen, aching, purplish-red tip seemed to declare that there was nothing to worry about today—just love!

The sword smoothly parted its two wings, entering the sacred hall—what a warm and inviting place! I thought even the Muses by the spring would be speechless. I couldn't help but pause, standing above, gazing down at the flawless body beneath me; lovemaking sometimes requires the appreciation of beautiful scenery.

"It's so hot, Publik, hurry, love me," Graneria urged me coquettishly, as if telling me that scenery can be admired anytime, but the commitment of love requires teasing and persistence.

I was like someone sharpening a sword, my lower body thrusting in and out repeatedly, the continuous and deadly pleasure washing over us, making us both dizzy and intoxicated.

"Oh, oh, oh, I'm so happy, Publik, you should, you should have come to me sooner, oh, more!" In the midst of the continuous pleasure, Graneria seemed to be scolding me, this heartless man. How could I not want it? But everyone is born carrying suffering and responsibility, and to have such a reunion and ecstasy today, I think the god of fate has already been very kind to us.

The penis relentlessly pounded against the tight valley, the stream becoming increasingly rapid. Along our point of union, fragrant nectar was continuously extracted, not only soaking the alluring grass but also spilling onto the exquisite bedding, making it glistening with moisture.

"That venerable maid will probably be busy tidying us up again soon," I said with a wry smile. "What's wrong with her? Can't she concentrate a little?"

"Public, my beloved, take me there, oh, take me away!" I gazed lovingly at this beautiful woman with a tragic past, resolving never to let my love suffer any more sorrow or helplessness. Forget the Senate seat, forget the hero of the Roman people, forget the great commander, the conqueror of Africa—as long as I'm with Graneria, never to be separated, all other fleeting fame can go to hell!

My testicles began to twitch; even in my old age, when I've found true love, I discovered such immense untapped potential! I continued my frenzied thrusting, the sword slashing back and forth from its sheath. Both Graneria and I were nearing our climax.

"Let us... let us unite! Give it to me, give it all to me, you belong to me!" With a hysterical cry, Graneria reached her peak. Her fingers dug tightly into the muscles of my shoulder blades, drawing blood, but I didn't care, for this was Cupid's favor! Then, my white fluid surged forth like a tidal wave, all the sustenance in my scrotum emptied at once, delivering the most essential part of my body, without a drop left, into the deep nest of life in Graneria, the goddess.

Never before in my life had I ejaculated so much semen. Surprised, I closed my weary eyes, my hands still unwilling to relinquish the one-eared rabbit in my hands. Even after the main act of lovemaking was complete, the afterglow of orgasm was an important part.

I gently rested my white-haired head on the alluring, gentle belly of Cupid. The area, still warm from the recent ejaculation, was not yet calm. Graneria stroked my aging hair and forehead, the comforting touch lulling me into a sweet dream.

I seemed to be lying on the vast Mediterranean Sea, the cool sea breeze caressing my short mustache under the sunlight. I felt utterly peaceful and serene. "Our sea!" How ridiculous that phrase seemed now. Even if this sea were truly possessed by a certain nation, so what?

I would take Graneria back; I would be by her side forever. With that thought, I finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Eight: "Our" Sea

I spent over three months in the scenic Asia Minor. The peace treaty with the Seleucid Empire was finally signed smoothly. I bid farewell to my friends, taking with me my beloved Graneria—now soon to be a mother. The Punic commander simply told me, "Live well with your loved ones." I know everyone has their own aspirations, but I still offered him roughly the same blessing.

"Loved ones? Ha! My heart can hold nothing but my homeland." I hadn't expected the Punic commander's attachment to his people and homeland to be so profound. Watching the great Punic warrior's departing figure, I bowed deeply.

The ship set sail towards Rome, and along the way, Graneria and I enjoyed the beautiful seascape.

"Sea! You are the Sea of Life! You are the Sea of Witness!"

It was late May when we returned to Rome. I decided to take Graneria back to our home in Rome. I knew Emilia would be unhappy; indeed, I wasn't a good husband… However, things didn't go as I expected. Emilia fell ill shortly after I went to Seleucus, and the doctor diagnosed her with a terminal illness! There wasn't much time left. But she still eagerly awaited my return, and now, with a repentant heart, I finally came to her side… When the emaciated Emilia saw Graneria's protruding belly, she wasn't surprised. I knew she must be resentful of the injustice of the gods and our poor son. That night, Emilia whispered to me that when our child was born, we could adopt him for my frail eldest son under the name of our son-in-law Paulus, who was also a descendant of Emilia's family. This way, our family line would continue, the child's future wouldn't be hindered, and the despicable Cato wouldn't have any leverage over him. Tears welled in my eyes as I agreed to her last suggestion.

In June, Emilia finally left me forever. Her short life was dedicated entirely to her husband and his family. In her presence, I will always be a person filled with guilt. But when I wanted to make it up to her, she could no longer appear before me.

Afterwards, I fell seriously ill. Thankfully, Graneria was by my side; otherwise, I truly wouldn't have been able to persevere. At the end of the year, Graneria gave birth to a healthy baby boy. I named my youngest son, who is also now my adopted grandson, after myself. I hope that after my death, he will take good care of his mother in my place, ensuring she suffers no hardship.

Since returning to Rome, that scoundrel Cato has never given me a moment's peace. I've had enough! I took Graneria and the child and left Rome, that place of trouble, to Litrum in Campania. The seaside scenery there is among the best in the Apennine Peninsula. I wanted to spend the rest of my life quietly with Graneria there.

"My dear, how is the environment here?" I asked Graneria, who was holding the baby, with a smile.

"It's very beautiful and peaceful. I love it here." To receive such affirmation from my beloved, I would have no regrets even in death.

"Hey, little Publius, come over here! Look how beautiful it is over there!" The little boy, at his mother's call, stumbled over.

I slowly sat down, suddenly realizing that all my strength was slowly dissipating, and my eyelids were growing heavier and heavier. Watching Genelia, holding her child's hand, running happily on the beach, I gave a final smile, and then lost all consciousness.

Chapter Nine, Final Chapter.

The seemingly young mother brought her son to the cemetery. Every year, this mother and son would come here several times to offer fresh flowers to their deceased loved ones. The tombstone was exceptionally clean, with only a simple line of Greek text:

"Here lies a man who loved Greek civilization and abandoned prejudices between nations—my beloved and my child's relative, Publius Cornelius Scipio, rests in peace." Not far away, white waves rolled in, lapping against the shore, seemingly telling a story of untold love.

Chapter Ten: Side Story

The city of Carthage was engulfed in flames. To capture this formidable city, renowned for its impregnability, the boy who stood before the tombstone years before, now commanded by the Senate, had assembled Rome's most elite legions, surrounding the city ten or twenty times over. The Punic people fought desperately; when bowstrings broke, women tore off pieces of their own hair to mend them; when spears broke, children handed them spare clubs. But ultimately, they too succumbed to the Romans.

The Punic people, with nearly a million inhabitants before the war, perished. Gazing at the raging fire, Roman soldiers chanted their commander's name, "Africanus," while the boy who had stood before his tombstone years before, now the commander of the army, unexpectedly knelt and wept bitterly. When his followers asked why, he denied that it was grief for the fallen; he wept for his country, thus fulfilling a famous prophecy in history books: "The city of Carthage today will be Rome five hundred years from now!" Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, but no one knew that the commander's "his country" included the Punic people before him, engulfed in flames. He was actually weeping for his birth mother and for his half-Punic blood.

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) [The End]

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