On Guard

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Author: Jesse Gambini

I arrived at the Museo Archeological Regionale promptly at nine a.m. I wanted to make sure I had enough time to see the museum and some other sites in Palermo before one o’clock when everything shut down for the afternoon.

After a couple of weeks in Italy, I was beginning to think it was a conspiracy on part of the Italian government, which ran most of the museums, to keep tourists in town as long as possible, mostly out of wanting to visit all the sites. Nothing, except for restaurants, was open in the afternoon. To make matters even worse, most sites were closed on Sundays and in many towns on Mondays as well.

Quickly adapting to the schedule, I did all my site seeing in the morning, followed with a long lunch, and then spent the afternoon shopping.

That morning I was the only one waiting to get into the museum, unlike my experiences in Florence and Rome where lines of tourists stretched down the block at many of the well known attractions. I was happy only to be rubbing shoulders with the museum guards and staff as I took in the exhibit about Palermo that was on the first floor and in the courtyard of the faded pallazo.

As I was making my way up to the second floor, a group of shrieking Sicilian school children flooded into the entrance way. If I was lucky, I’d be able to explore the second floor before they got up there.

I wasn’t lingering like I usually did. I wasn’t familiar with any of the art in the museum. To make things more difficult, all of the exhibits were labeled only in Italian and I hadn’t gotten past reading restaurant menus, so I didn’t understand most of what was written on the labels.

My guidebook mentioned that the two highlights of the museum were in the bronze collection which was housed on the second floor. I didn’t want to miss the Ram of Syracuse–a 3rd Century b.c. Hellenistic work and a Roman copy of a Greek original- Hercules overpowering a stag.

The sounds of the schoolchildren floated up the stairway as I wandered from room to room looking at the exhibits. I was alone on the second floor except for a hunky security guard with a head of black curls and deep brown eyes, wearing an ill-fitting blue uniform. The guard followed closely behind me as I wandered through the galleries, making me feel like I had my own personal bodyguard.

I slowed my pace when I entered the gallery containing the bronze collection. The guard was getting me a little paranoid. I studied the life-sized sculpture of the Ram intently. Every now and then I glanced back to the guard who had made himself comfortable on a chair at the front of the gallery. He was eyeing me as intently as I was studying the statue.

My next stop was in front of the sculpture of Hercules. It was a stunning nude–man against beast. The sculpture captured all the raw animal magnetism in Hercules as he struggled with the stag. By this time I was having my own struggle. The looks the guard were giving me were getting me turned on.

I wasn’t sure if he was staring at me on purpose. I found Italian men difficult to read. As I circled the sculpture, I felt the guards eyes on me. I glanced up to the front of the room. He was still sitting in the chair, his legs spread. While I diverted my attention away from Hercules and focused my attention on the guard, he reached down and grabbed at his crotch. I had seen other Italian men do this even out on the street. They were constantly scratching at their crotches, getting me all worked up. I wasn’t sure what it was all about.

I changed my position, so I had a view of Hercules and when I looked just past the sculpture I could eye the guard.

When he grabbed his crotch again, I lost all interest in Hercules struggling with the stag. All my interest was now on the hunky guard. He was a handsome specimen. I could have stripped him naked and put him up on the pedestal along with the bronze stag and nobody would have been the wiser.

His eyes met mine and I thought I detected a bit of a smile. My mouth was watering and my cock was swelling inside my shorts. He reached down and grabbed at his crotch again. This was no random itch. Even from the distance, I could tell he had an erection.

I wasn’t sure what to do. My limited Italian only helped me get by in the restaurants and hotels. I couldn’t maintain a conversation more than a few sentences long. Deciding it was to make a move, I made my way closer and turned my attention to the glass cases that lined the walls, pretending to look at the Greek terra cotta figurines all the while I was watching the reflection of the guard in the glass.

I systematically went from case to case, getting closer and closer to him–drawn by some inexplicable force. His eyes were on me the whole time. When I got to the last case, I turned and the guard was standing right in front of me.

“Andianmo,” he said.

I understood what he wanted, but go where?

I gave him a puzzled look, but didn’t make the effort to speak. He pointed to two wooden doors–one had a metal plaque with the outline of a woman and the other had the familiar outline of a man–the rest room.

As soon as we closed the door behind us, I could hear the commotion of the school group echo throughout the second floor.

There wasn’t much room to navigate. The rest room was built only for one. We stood there sizing each other up as the noise in the gallery got louder.

I stepped closer to the guard. His breath warmed my face. The stench of urine filled my senses. The guards eyes darted nervously back and forth. My heart was pounding as I pressed my lips to his mouth, taking it with a savage intensity. I forced my thrusting tongue deep inside his mouth.

The guard reached around and latched the door. When he finished he kissed me back. His mouth covered mine, hungrily. His tongue sent shivers of desire racing through me. I was practically in a state of shock. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

Filled with an animal lust, I wanted this guy something fierce. I pushed the guard backward, pressing his back up against the bathroom door. As I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, I practically tore them off. I pulled his uniform shirt down off his shoulders, exposing his broad fur-covered chest and finishing by pulling the tail of his shirt out of his pants.

I stood there staring. He was built like one of the statues of the ancient gods that were on the other side of the door. A gold cross hanging from a delicate chain nestled in the tufts of his jet black chest hair. His chest was solid flanks of hard flesh and his abs were ripples of muscle.

I buried my face in the nape of his neck, inhaling his musky scent. Groaning loudly as I worked my mouth over his flesh, he rolled his head back and closed his eyes while I gave him pleasure. I bit down on his neck and then grabbed his nipples and pinched his tits, working his nubs until they were red and swollen.

The guard ground his crotch against mine, his body rocking back and forth. I swore I could feel his thick cock throbbing even through my jeans.

“Oh fuck. That feels so fucking good.”

The guard opened his eyes and smiled.

“Americano,” he said.

“Si, americano.”

I nodded and reached down and grabbed his crotch. His cock has hard. I was in the same condition.

Sitting down on the toilet, I stared up at the guard. There wasn’t any ventilation in the bathroom. Sweat tricked down my neck and my forehead. The guard was sweating, too. His chest was covered in a sheen of perspiration from the rounded flanks of his upper chest muscles to his rippled belly. A trail of dark hair ran from his navel and disappeared into his blue polyester uniform pants. His large bulge was packed in his pants, straining to get free.

I reached out to grab his crotch. As I squeezed the hard budge in my hand, my own cock ached in my pants. The guard let out a soft moan as my hand lingered, and I squeezed his dick even harder.

Fumbling with his belt buckle, I pulled down his fly. The guard assisted and slid his hands inside the waistband of his pants and they fell to his ankles. He stood there wearing only a shit-eating grin and his sweat and piss stained bikini briefs.

The guard moved closer, his pants all bunched up around his shoes. I sat there on the toilet, staring up into his eyes. He then pressed his crotch in my face. There was a big wet spot on his briefs where the outline of his cock bulged. I could tell he was uncut. I couldn’t wait to wrap my lips around his dick and suck him off.

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