The next morning, the two men sat at the breakfast table together; the Brit drinking tea and the American had a large cup of coffee. They talked about their mutual interest in gladiators and then about some of the things that were going on in their lives. The Yank got up to get another cup of coffee and leaned against the counter still talking. The Brit thought to himself that the Yank was bigger then he, so he would have to rely on speed not strength to defeat him. He wondered how it would feel to thrust his sword into the bare flesh of this man. He imagined the scene, with the Yank crumbling at his feet, a look of shock on his face.

Both men were naked. They had been that way practically since the Brit had arrived. They had slept together naked, now had breakfast naked and soon they would fight naked as they had agreed.

"Well, are you ready?" the Yank said.

"Yes" the Brit replied, "let's do it."

The two men went into the living room where they had moved back the furniture last night. Against the wall were two Roman short swords. Each man took one and stepped back. The Brit ran his hand along the weapon feeling its weight and conjuring up the vision of the point entering his opponent's navel.

"Let it begin" the Yank said, "A fight to the death and no quarter given. If you win, you may do what you want with my body."

The Brit felt his cock swell at the thought of that. "Right Yank, if I win, I hope that you don't die right away because I'm going to rape you."

The men began to circle each other. Their swords slicing through the air; simple feints looking for a weakness a dropped defense. Then the Brit lunged low and thrust his sword at the base of the Yank's cock hoping to take him quickly with a surprise move. But the Yank jumped back and swung his sword down hitting the Brit's sword and knocking it wide of its mark.

"Nice try, Brit, that would have been a deadly wound."

"Yes, you're right!" the Brit said and at the same time his sword swung across the Yank's chest. The Yank jumped back again but this time the point of the Brit's sword sliced across his pec's and a thin line of blood appeared on the Yank's chest.

Looking for a moment at his wound, the Yank said, "The first blood is yours, I must make sure that you don't get the last as well."

Both men's cocks were rigid and they swung wildly from side to side as they fought. Feeling the almost painful urging between his legs, the Brit thought about the Greeks who sometimes fought in battle naked. He wondered whether they also had been aroused by the fight as he and the Yank obviously were.

"YAAAAA" the Yank screamed and charged at the Brit swing in his sword high at the Brit's head. The Brit swung his sword in time and both met in mid air with a loud clang. The Yank pulled back and swung low and the Brit defended. Over and over again the Yank swung his sword beating against the defense of the Brit. The attack continued for several minutes and the Brit felt himself becoming tired.

"He's trying to wear me down. I can't let him do that. I must find a way to attack." the Brit thought as he withstood the Yank's constant attacks.

He decided to parry one more time and then quickly spin around to the left and try to bury his sword in the Yank's side. The Yank's sword struck again and he blocked it then he quickly spun to the left but being off balance for a moment, he didn't swing the sword into the Yank's side immediately. This gave the Yank a precious moment when the Brit's belly was exposed to attack. He took advantage of it and thrust his sword forward. The point entered the Brit's navel and the force of the thrust pushed several inches of the blade into the bare body of the Brit.

"AHHHH" the Brit groaned as the sword cut into his gut. For a long moment both men froze. Both realized that the crucial moment had arrived. The Brit still held his sword in the air, but he stared at the Yank's blade in his belly. Both men's cocks throbbed with passion, both felt the intensity of being naked together in this fight.

"OHH!" the Brit groaned again, "you bastard" and he swung his sword at the Yank's side, but the Yank snapped out of his trance and jumped back pulling his sword out of the Brit's belly. Four inches of the Yank's sword was covered in blood. The Brit put his left had over his wounded navel which had started to bleed. The wound might not be fatal, the Brit thought, but it was no use asking to stop at this point. He could see the blood lust in his naked opponent's face. He must at least wound the Yank if he was to survive, but it had to be soon as he was losing strength from the pain in his belly.

"Nice work Yank," the Brit said with a smile, "but I'm not done yet."

Saying that, he charged the Yank hoping to feint an attack to his head and then quickly cut low into his belly. But the Yank didn't wait for the attack to come to him, he also charged and caught the Brit's blade knocking it aside then he pulled back and plunged the point into the Brit's upper belly.

"OH GOD!" the Brit cried out as the blade buried itself in his naked body. He could feel the steel blade in his gut. "AHHH" he groaned as the Yank pushed again and more of the blade drove into the Brit.

"AHH" he groaned again as the Yank pushed a third time driving the blade of his sword out of the bare back of the Brit. The Brit dropped his sword and threw his right arm around the neck of the Yank for support. His head rested on the Yank's shoulder, their pec's pressed together. The Yank had pushed the sword into the Brit's body until the hilt pushed against his belly. Farther down, their two rigid cocks banged against each other like two crossed swords.

"Looks like you win Yank," the Brit whispered in his ear.

"Yes, I have," replied the Yank, "You put up a good fight; I'm sorry that you have to die."

The Brit knew that he had only minutes to live. His left hand still clutched his earlier wound as his right hand remained around the neck of the Yank for support. When the Brit had stumbled forward his bare feet had landed on top of the Yank's feet.

The two men stood motionless for a moment. The Yank savoring the feel of the man he had just defeated; the Brit drawing strength from his victor, feeling his naked body against him.

Then the Yank pulled the sword out of the Brit's belly. The Brit felt as if his whole insides were being pulled out and he removed his right hand from the Yank's shoulder and clutched the new wound even as the blade was being withdrawn. He stumbled back and faced his victor.

"You've cut me up pretty well, Yank, but you can do what you want with what's left of me."

"And so I shall, Brit." and saying that the Yank swung his sword low cutting into the Brit's scrotum severing it from his body. The Brit's balls fell to the floor as the Yank's blade sliced into the inside of his right leg.

The Yank withdrew the sword. "You've castrated me!" The Brit's eyes opened wide in shock and pain. "NOOOO" he screamed as he fell to his knees. "MY Balls!" He fell onto his back groaning.

The Yank went to the table and retrieved a dagger that was to be used for the final thrust to put the dying man out of his pain. He knelt at the side of the dying Brit preparing to stab him in his left pec. The Brit reached up and grabbed the Yank's cock, squeezing it tightly.

"AHHHH" the Yank cried out in passion as steam after stream of cum shot out of his cock and across the chest of the Brit. The Brit's hand fell from the Yank's still throbbing cock and when the Yank regained his composure after his orgasm, he saw that the Brit was dead.

"No need for this." the Yank said tossing away the dagger. He stood up and grabbed the naked man by his bare feet and pulled him through the house into the back yard. He could hear a woman scream as the neighbors, curious about the noises of the fight, had come outside to investigate. He dragged the naked Brit into the grass and dropped his feet. The Brit lay in the grass legs open, his castration plainly visible. The Yank placed his bare foot on the still hard cock of the dead Brit and pushed it to the ground.

"It was a fair fight, and I won!" he screamed at the shocked neighbors. Then he walked into the house to shower. He intended to tell the cops that it was self defense, they couldn't deny the Brit's finger prints on one of the swords.