The great barbarian, Konan, continues on his journey to the east, taking the road to Persepolis, the new capital city of Xerxes, King of Persia, and taking with him a sacred trust. It tells of the great dangers and betrayals faced along the way, and of how Konan meets a young man from the country, Kasra, who almost loses his life because of his naiveté and who soon discovers the complications of gay love. It also tells of Konan being reunited with an old friend, and of the vanity and foolishness of the self proclaimed Prince of the Medes, and the loyalty of his concubine.
It was a while before I looked at Konan. But when I saw him, my heart almost stopped. He stood thigh deep in the clear pool, and water ran down him as he reached his hands up and back to wring the water from his golden hair, his body stretched out and glowing in the sunlight. He was magnificently formed. Ah. He might have been some god as he stood there for that moment.
And I wondered how I had not seen before how handsome he was. Suddenly, I felt myself redden and turned away and scrubbed myself harder to cover my embarrassment. My manhood had begun filling at the sight of him, as it did at times at the sight of men, though I tried hard to stop it. For my father had warned me sternly against such things.
Shortly after, I could not stop myself glancing over my shoulder at him, though. And Konan was running his hands up and over his belly and down into his bush to slide along his manhood, which was standing hard and erect, and . . . I quickly looked away. He had been looking at me and seemed to be smiling but with slitted eyes. But in spite of my efforts, I could not stop my own sword from stiffening, painfully in need of release. I ached to stroke myself but could not while he was there. I hurried to wring out the rag and leave the water. But before I could step onto the bank, I felt a hand wrap about my belly and stop me. I quivered at the touch and almost fell down. And then the other hand, Konan’s big, strong hand, moved down to my . . .
