Now you will never be able to say that you have not been to a brothel... in Arvina's house .
On the other hand, it did mark me the first time I lay alone with a woman. It was shortly after the first and disastrous stake. What anguish I went through. One lazy summer afternoon, my friend Labienus, Emilio and I got together in the shade of the arcades of the Forum with my brother Lucio, who was two years older than us, and one of his party cronies, a certain Publio Quintilio Albo, a short and blond son of Gallic immigrants. The fact is that my brother and his colleague convinced us without too much pressure so that we all went together to a brothel outside the walls. That famous brothel was near the mill bridge and was a house of very bad fame in the social circles of Valentine. Its evil notoriety was due to the fact that more than one chaste and unpolluted magistrate was a regular customer of that mysterious town.
It was a large domus of several passuum of facade, without windows and with a doorway with a narrow peephole in the middle of a well-cared orchard of chard and lettuce. After my brother touched the knocker twice and said an unintelligible phrase to the slave who leaned out of the small window, the door hinges squeaked softly and we passed into the hall. A life-size statue of Venus, goddess of these occupations, dominated the room. The timorous, clean-shaven servant led us to the portico of the atrium, the coolest part of the house where several benches were arranged to receive clients. We settled into the soft seats. The porch was decorated with terracotta planters with murta hedges decorated with geometric reliefs and its reddish walls displayed explicit frescoes of lovers at work. I was stunned looking from fresco to fresco seeing the different poses of the couples represented there. At the moment a very suggestive slave offered us a pitcher of fresh wine at a very low price that we could not refuse. A small group of three girls stood in a corner carrying harps, cymbals and flutes and began to sing tunes. They were very young for the profession. Surely the owner of the brothel house would have bought them recently to prepare them in the love arts. In addition, in all varied clientele you always find some vicious with a good bag of arsetan aces willing to empty it without any qualms in order to brand new youngsters. While the pretty girl, artfully coiffed and abundantly perfumed, was pouring the contents of her vessel, a fat matron appeared, already advanced in years, with resounding veined breasts and a complex coppery wig, who gave us the most effusive reception from her. . It seemed incredible to me how she didn't have such round and menacing breasts sagging. Some time later I discovered the trick of the strophium (the first “magical crusader ” of History; It consisted of soft leather strips that enhanced the female bust. The mamillare were also used , a kind of girdle that supported her breasts) to enjoy the charms of one of her pupils who was as well armed as her lady.
- Welcome to the home of Servia Vitruvia Arvina! But, by the chaste and pure Vesta, What do my eyes see! Five wonderful young men - said the plump pimp, reviewing the entire group with her batrachian gaze - I'm sure some of you are new to my house... What could I offer you to delight your senses?
- Show us your offer, dear Arvina. I have been told very well about the gender of your house - my brother's buddy replied -
- That's right, young man. I have real wonders. This is not one of those infected brothels in the port of Saguntum, it is a reserved whorehouse for select clients... Attach him! Lazy gelding... Come on, what are you waiting for, pass these clients to the tricliniums - he scolded the slave who had attended us after giving him a bump on the head. Then she gave two resounding claps and put on the tight and solid tunic girdle that supported the weight of her immense bust –
- As you wish, Domina – replied the wiry individual submissively, heading quickly towards one of the rooms in the atrium –
A wide variety of young girls and boys instantly appeared from several of the adjacent cubicles. They, some very young and others already mature, were dressed in fine linen peplos setabense, were made up with all kinds of exotic balsams and some had their hair dyed with tallow paste and ash. Those insinuating and suggestive dresses let the colored areolas that crowned their smooth busts and the curly charms of their crotches shine through. The three beardless ephebes showed off their youthful bodies smeared with aromatic oils and covered their limbs with a bare and simple loincloth. Those women did not seem forced, because in the complex world of prostitution there are all kinds, those who cannot choose and those who choose their paid lovers well. In that case, I learned later that many of those splendid females paid a hefty percentage to the owner of the house for discreetly working with well-known and influential personalities in the comfort of a warm and fluffy bed.
The well-groomed group of love professionals strolled between the benches, caressing us, smiling and provoking our already irrepressible lust. One of those tremendous females, a slender brunette with long hair that exuded an intoxicating scent of Persian jasmine, walked towards me, sweeping my face with her fragrant mane as she slipped her deft hand under my tunic. She was the one that impressed me the most. And I don't underestimate the rest of the girls and not so girls, to see which one is more appealing, but the first impression marked my decision. She still had her tanned tight flesh, for she would not be older than me, round and pert buttocks harder than the Pillars of Hercules and pointed and stiff breasts like full wineskins. I chose her.
My brother negotiated in a group with the chubby-cheeked and painted Arvina the cost of the services of her appetizing merchandise, closing it at fifty silver coins for an hour of companionship. The dark-haired girl I liked so much took me by the hand and led me to her cubicle, a small, red room in the peristyle in which a stool and a bunk were the only pieces of her furniture. On the lintel of the door there was an expressive engraving of an Amazon riding on a guy reclining on a divan. At that time I didn't pay attention to it but over time I discovered that each one of those women explicitly indicated her specialty on her door. And each of those services had its predetermined cost, since a simple manual masturbation is not the same as a complete fellatio, and even more so taking into account the brief hygiene, to call it in some way, of certain regular clients of the house.
The girl led me to her nest of pleasures. A four-pronged skylight on the stool was the only lighting in that small room. She pulled back the shredded burlap curtains that closed the door and led me over to the cot. With a rhythmic and slow movement she rolled up her dress from her calves, pulling it over her head, gradually showing in all her fullness her exalted nudity. She had large honey-colored eyes and wavy brunette hair that fell in ringlets over her hard breasts. I looked down for a moment and saw how my erect member was already marked, and stained, on her tunic. I remember that he was sweating like a galley slave, not because of the humid and heavy heat of the small room but excited by the imminence of the touch of our bodies... and at the same time I felt afraid of not measuring up to that young expert. Despite her young age, the girl knew very well what she was doing. She whispered a couple of nice compliments in her ear, she gently removed my sodden tunic and laid me on my back on her bunk. A relax and a deep kiss on the forehead left me calmer. It was then that the buxom professional from the brothel positioned herself on top of me, inserting my swollen appendage into her kinky secret and rocking her molded body over me. I am not able to evaluate how long I could contain my seed, but I think it would be rather little since only from the excitement I was already more than prepared. I imprisoned her buttocks between my hands trying to reach one of her dark and erect nipples with her mouth. Seeing the contraction of pleasure on my face, the girl tightened her rhythm unrestrainedly, pressing my member with her stony buttocks in an intense friction and triggering the desired effect in me.
When I left the cubicle, sweaty, puffed up and more satisfied than a general during a Triumph (the highest honor granted by the Senate to a general after a victorious campaign), I agreed with the rest of my friends who had also comfortably fulfilled her purpose. I was shocked to see Labienus, always showing off muscles in the exercise rooms of the baths, come out of one of the rooms together with one of the beardless ephebes. What a dangerous discovery my mischievous brother taught us that warm afternoon. It was not the only time we went to appease the pressure of the crotch in the discreet and select house of Arvina. Some time later I found out, thanks to an exchanged conversation in the latrines of the baths, that that fat matron had exercised the oldest profession in the world years ago in several brothels in Arse until a certain Sextus Vitruvius Arvino, an unattractive guy and even less gregarious man who became pontiff of Jupiter in the city for many years, took a fancy to her big boobs and bought her from her owner. When that poor wretch died a few years ago, Arvina, - manumisa and heiress to a discreet fortune - knowledgeable about managing the fat business, changed residence to avoid gossip and set up her own luxury mansion in the new neighborhood.
Extracted from VALENTIA, The Memoirs of Cayo Antonio Naso
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