Date: Thu, 14 Apr 2005 05:12:39 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Spoils Of War,  Part 28

THE SPOILS OF WAR  by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories in
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part  28


We stayed a couple of days at the mansion whilst we
worked out the best way to get to Galveston, which is
where their oil tanker was.  Ali's father seemed very
disappointed when he refused to stay in the mansion
itself and bunked down as usual with us in the slave
quarters.  I heard him arguing with his father again,
saying that we should all be allowed to share his
suite in the mansion, but his father would have none
of it, pointing out that it would cause difficulties
with the other domestic slaves later.

It turned out that we'd been in the middle of
Louisiana all those years, and that the best way for
us to get to Galveston was by the public bus network,
as we would be less likely to attract attention that
way than by doing something very ostentatious like
travelling in a limousine.  Ali further decided that I
and three of our fellows should go as one party, and
he and the other three as another, to further deflect
public notice as eight guys travelling together might
look suspicious.  But before we could set out there
was one more thing that had to be done:  very, very
carefully as it was so close to our vital nerves and
blood vessels, the high sped saw was used to saw off
our slave collars.  When I stood up after mine had
fallen to the floor, I couldn't believe how different
it felt:  I'd got so used to wearing that hateful iron
thing around my neck - and it must have weighed two or
three pounds (deliberately, to act as a constant
reminder to us that we were slaves) -  that without it
I felt as if I wanted to keep shaking my shoulders.

Ali gave me some of his "western" clothes that were at
the mansion, and he and I then went down to the mall
and bought a selection of clothes for the others -
simple, everyday stuff like jeans and Ts, socks and
underwear, a casual jacket, and shoes.  We had a lot
of fun measuring the guys before we set out, and then
in choosing the stuff for them- we thought it was very
amusing that some of the guys were bought tiny "gay"
briefs, and some staid, old-fashioned cotton boxers!
Money wasn't a problem, so we also threw in a lot of
other stuff that would help to make us not look like
slaves - stuff I'd had "before" but had been without
for so long, like a watch, a portable MP3 player,
paperback books to read or pretend to read for the
Arabic-only guys, and an assortment of tote bags and
rucksacks, as guys travelling without luggage always
look more suspicious.

It felt so odd the next morning to be wearing
"European" clothes again - and dammed uncomfortable,
actually - they were tight and constricting, they
rubbed and chafed at the hairs on my body, and made me
hot and sweaty.  It was in so many ways better to be
naked, although, I thought to myself slyly, at least I
could now have an erection without everyone being
aware of it!  We'd mostly forgotten about things like
using a watch to tell the time, and the technology
advances meant that we had to learn again how to use
things like MP3 players, so there was quite a lot to
do that day.

It was so different, too, for the four of us to be
getting into the top deck of the bus at the bus
station - we saw a couple of slaves being pushed into
the cramped space underneath, and for a moment we all
almost lost it, and we had to really hold back Faisel
who was about to rush over and hit the guard who'd
given one of the slaves a prodding as he wasn't moving
fast enough.   And then as the bus made its way south,
we saw the continuing evidence of the slave economy at
work - coffles toiling in the fields, working on the
highways, and so on.  We all really felt for those
guys as their overseers lashed at their naked bodies
even as we watched, and we all knew that we needed to
do something for them.

We had to change buses about halfway, and we'd decided
to break the journey and stay in a cheap motel.  I
told the clerk we were guys from the army going home
on leave, and that we were short of cash, and that we
didn't mind sharing as we were all good army buddies.
So he allowed all four of us to have one room, with
two double beds in it.  But when we got to the room,
we couldn't decide who was going to sleep with whom -
we were so used to all sleeping together in a heap
that we all ended up in one of the beds, and of course
that's the best way to do it:  if you wake up in the
night it's good to have so many bodies around you, a
nice butt or shoulder to put your hand on, maybe a
dick near your nose so you get a smell of your
buddy.... You need to be close to a lot of guys to
experience that, and I wondered how we were going to
get on when the eight of us would be split up, as we
presumably would be as we couldn't go on living
together as we had been.    I woke up some time in the
middle of the night, my dick hard, and there was one
of the other guys awake, too, as we sort of realised
we were seeing each other's open eyes in the dimness
of the room - the two others were snoring away, and it
was Faisel who whispered to me "Come on, Steve, let's
fuck..."

"No, we'll wake the others - and they need their
sleep..."

"OK then, let's jerk off....." So we lay there
stroking and playing with each other until we shot our
cum over each other, and our companions.  As we went
through recovery afterwards, letting our breathing
slow, and just smiling with the enjoyment that a good
jerk off always brings, I felt Faisel's fingers gently
probing at and stroking the marks on my neck where my
collar had been - the iron wasn't particularly smooth,
and over the years it had made callouses and scars.  I
did the same to Faisel, whose skin was equally
blemished, and I know we were both thinking how lucky
we were to be on our way to freedom, and out of that
slave collar for ever.

"Steve, thank you...", he whispered.

"For what?"

"For looking after Ali, for making all this
possible..."

"No, it's Ali, and his father...."

"Steve, we all know you support him, help him,
encourage him.  Ali is our commander, but without you,
Steve, he'd be nothing.  If you were an Arab, you too
would become a leader of our people..."

"So you think Ali will become a leader, do you?", I
almost hissed, not wanting to wake the others.

"Oh yes, Steve.  It is his destiny, to free us.  And
you will be there, to help.  But when the history
books are written, it is his name, not yours, or mine,
that will be in them:  we will be mere footnotes for
scholars who want completeness, not the grand sweep of
the affairs that changed our world.  But when I am an
old man, Steve, sitting in the sunshine with my sons
and grandsons and great-grandsons, I will let them
feel these marks of my slavery on my neck and remind
them of how it was all eight of us who were bound
together, and that it was you who made it all happen.
Truly, Steve, these are honourable marks on your body
as they are on mine, and one day we will all be proud
to have been in this coffle that will have changed the
world."

I felt a lump in my throat, and if I hadn't been a
tough fighter, I think my eyes might have filled with
tears.  Faisel's lips were brushing over my scars, and
I pulled him closer to me.  "Do you really think so,
Faisel?  Do you think eight men can change the world?"

"Oh yes, Steve.  Even one man can change the world.
So eight of us certainly can."  I felt then something
noble, something special - this simple Arab, ignorant
in the ways of the world, had managed to tell me
something about things that I had not previously
considered.

In the morning the other two guys saw the dried cum on
their bodies and insisted that Faisel and I jerk them
off to make up for them having missed out during he
night, and we were all in good spirits as we ate
breakfast, and sauntered back to the bus station to
catch the Galveston bus.  But when we arrived, early
evening, there was a huge potential problem - the
whole of the port area was ringed with security
fencing, and guards were checking the papers of all
those coming in and out.  We'd met up with Ali's
group, by arrangement, and one guy had come out, off
the tanker and joined us.

Ali and I talked about it for a long time - should we
try and make a hole in the fence, or perhaps crash
through in a stolen car, or shoot the guards, or what?
 I'd been watching the sole guard in action on a small
pedestrians only entrance, and noticed that he'd been
taking a particular interest in the men, turning to
follow with his eyes any who were young, good looking,
and with nice bodies.  I told Ali of my plan, and he
was against it immediately.  "No, Steve - we can't ask
you to do that...."

"You're not asking.  I'm telling you that it's going
to work."

"Then  I will do it..."

"No, you can't, Ali - it needs to be an American
guy... And I'll have to try to make myself sound a lot
more 'southern' than I do...."

I borrowed the ID card off the seaman, and strode over
into the security office.  As I handed my card to the
security guard, I let my hand brush his.  His eyes at
once locked onto mine, and so I just stood there,
staring back, almost insolently, but with a faint
welcoming smile on my lips.

"I guess it must kind of lonely in here all by
yourself all night.... Do you always work nights?  Do
your buddies drop in?",  I asked.

"No, the shifts change... But I don't mind working the
night shift - I meet some interesting people...."

"Interesting men?"

"Mostly.... I mean they're mostly men, as there aren't
a lot of women on board ships, are there?   But
they're sadly mostly not interesting."

"Oh?  Why is that?"

"Oh, you know.... Well, I don't often get an
'interesting' looking guy like you come through here
in the middle of the night..."

"Well I was out of luck in town" I said
conversationally.  "And by the time I'm back on board,
all my buddies will be asleep, or paired off...."

"So what were you looking for in the town?"

"The usual... A few guys to drink with, maybe have a
little fun with.... It's pretty boring on these long
voyages with only the same old crew.... A man likes a
bit of variety..."

Well, with  lot more eye contact, letting my hand rest
of his arm for a while, and occasionally hitching the
belt of my jeans suggestively, he was soon longing for
my body.

"What time do you get off?", I finally asked.

"Six."

"Too bad!  It will have to be next time we're docked
here then... I have to be back on board by four as
we're sailing later..."

He looked so disappointed, that I went on "But as I
said, there's not much excitement for me on board,
just the same bunch of guys... Look, there's not a lot
going on here.... Let me come around behind the desk,
and we can at least have a bit of fun...."

Well, I know some of you will be thinking that it's
like being a rent boy, using my body for gain, but  I
didn't see it like that.  He was a decent enough
looking guy, and one dick's very much like another,
isn't it?  I soon had him almost helpless as my tongue
raced up and down his shaft and teased at his balls,
and when I started to suck him seriously he was beyond
hearing the other guys who crawled past the desk, out
of sight.  Afterwards, as he lay there panting and I
licked away a few drops of his cum that had escaped
from my mouth, I said "Hey, I've got to go... But next
time I'm here, it's your turn right?", and strolled
off towards the waiting tanker.

Later than night when I went to curl up against Ali as
we were all settled into an unused store room on the
tanker - there wasn't space for us all in the crew's
quarters as those ships are very specifically
designed;  and it didn't matter to us, as we were all
used to sleeping rough - he turned away from me, quite
deliberately.  I put my arm around him, and tried to
pull his naked body back towards me, as we usually
slept, and he resisted.  I have to tell you I was
pretty pissed off - we'd been apart for a couple of
days, and I'd been shepherding his men across the
country at some risk to myself (although they were
dressed in causal American clothes, they just didn't
move right, somehow) - and now he was trying to ignore
me.

I tugged at him harder, and said with a rather annoyed
tone in my voice "Hey, what's the matter?  This should
be a fun time for us - we're on our way to
freedom...."

He continued to ignore me, just lying there, sullenly
silent.  "Hey, what's wrong?"

Still no response, and now I was really pissed off.  I
was always a a lot stronger than Ali, and I now yanked
at his shoulder to make him turn towards me, and as he
did so, I grabbed his balls and gave them a quite firm
squeeze.  He struck out at me, and I countered by
forcing him onto his back and almost crushing his
throat with my forearm.

"Now, what the fuck is this all about?", I demanded,
my tome commanding, and yet quiet, as I didn't want to
disturb the other guys (for one thing, they were still
definitely "his" men).

"Whore!", he spat out.

"What?"

"You are like a common whore, using your body for your
own gain...."

"Not for me, Ali - for you and your men..."

"A real man would not suck the dick of the enemy..."

"A real man does what he has to do to ensure the
survival of his comrades!"

"You enjoyed it..."

"No, I did not.  But it was only a dick.  I did what I
had to.  And, actually, yes, it wasn't that bad - he
was a nice guy.  And he'll be in terrible trouble
tomorrow.  I actually feel sorry for him.  But whether
I enjoyed it or not isn't the issue - you're really
pissing me off, when I've risked a lot for you."

As I listened to myself say these words, I think  I
was surprised.  Actually, in spite of the danger, in
spite of the reasons why I'd done it, I did quite
enjoy it - I mean, I had access to a lot of dicks in
the coffle, but this was new, fresh, exciting....   I
couldn't have believed, when I was in the marines,
that I'd ever have thought that I'd have admitted to
enjoying sucking a guy's dick.  But the more I thought
about it, the more I realised that I did like men's
bodies:  of course I liked fucking them, but if that
wasn't possible, then taking them and using them in
other ways wasn't so bad.

Ali still lay there in sullen silence, and, still
pressing firmly on his throat so he knew I had total
control of him, I squeezed his balls again, feeling
his whole body contract and spasm as his reflexes
tried to protect these sensitive parts of his manhood.

"Listen to me, Ali. I do what I have to, to keep
myself free.  I'm never going to be a slave again.
And I'll help you.  But if you ever disrespect me like
this again, I'll tear your balls off...."

"You are like all Americans, Steve.  You think you are
so fucking marvellous, you're incapable of doing the
wrong thing... You must be right...."

"Well this time I was.  And mostly we are right.
Before this fucking war we were the only force on the
planet keeping the whole place together.  And we'll be
the same again one day, you see..."  As I said this, I
could feel the whole of his body, which was pressed
close to mine, trembling and shaking.  Was it fear,
was it frustration, was it rage?  I didn't know.  And,
frankly, at that moment I didn't care.

"Listen to me, Ali, and listen well!" I went on, now
so thoroughly pissed off that I didn't care if I  hurt
him or not.  "You Arabs were just a load of ignorant
desert tribesmen until we came along and bought your
oil.  We gave you money.  We brought you civilisation
- and we'd have done a whole lot more if you weren't
so pig ignorant, sticking to your old religious
superstitions, hanging on to your hierarchical view of
society.... If you weren't your father's son, you
wouldn't be in charge of these men:  if you'd had to
go to military training camps and work your way up,
you'd still be a fucking grunt private!  In the end,
you people aren't going t survive living life as if we
were still in the twelfth century or whenever it was
your so-called prophet came down with the words from
the great juju in the sky....  You need to drag
yourself into the twenty first century, put all this
superstition behind you, let the good people rise to
the top, whatever their parentage."

I was in a real rage now, and I went on "And I'm not
sure I should be helping you.  I may get some of your
guys released form slavery, but I'll be helping to
perpetuate your ruling class, your priests and all
that mumbo jumbo, keeping your guys ignorant and cowed
by superstition.  That's not the American way!  So
fuck you, Ali!  When this ship lands, I'll get off,
and I'll go my own way, OK?"

He lay there under me, now still.  And I let go of his
balls, and released my grip on his throat.  He turned
away from me, and I just lay there.  My rage and anger
were subsiding, and I knew I'd gone too far... No,
what I'd said was right, but sometimes you have to
hold off from saying the truth to avoid hurting
people.  I could feel Ali's naked back and butt
against me, but it was somehow cold, not warm and
inviting as it usually was, and I just lay there,
getting more and more miserable.

I didn't sleep well that night, and it was some
consolation to me to know that Ali didn't either - as
I tossed and turned, sleep evading me, I was aware
that he was awake, too.  Some time in the very early
morning, just a dawn was creeping  through the port
holes of our store room, he finally turned to me.

"Steve, I'm sorry..."

"And so you should be!".  It was out, before I could
stop myself.  I felt hi body stiffen again, and knew I
was in the wrong.  He was a very proud man, and it had
taken him a lot of courage to say those few simple
words.  I turned him to face me, and whispered "Hey,
sorry, man.  Sorry for what  I said last night, sorry
for that..."

"Are you, Steve?"

Somehow I knew this was a pivotal point on our
relationship.  We'd been chained together a coffle
slaves, but now we were free, we'd have to learn to be
honest with each other.  "Ali, I'm sorry, buddy, but
I'm not sorry.  You were wrong!  You called me a whore
when  I was doing everything I could to try to help
you.  And your society is rotten to the core, your
religion is holding everyone back.  But just currently
us Americans have got ourselves into a terrible
situation that, if anything, is worse.  So I'll work
with you as it's in our common interest to get all the
slaves free... But you'll never get me to say I think
your way of doing things is right.  And you are a good
man, you're probably a good commander - but it's not
right that you get to do this because you're your
father's son.  Men need to earn their way in this
world, they need to earn respect, not have it as a
right because of an accident of birth.  But I'll help
you..."

"And will you love me, Steve?"

The simple question stopped me dead in my tracks.
We'd been lovers, in the sense that we used each
others bodies, and enjoyed it hugely. We'd lived
trough terrible things together.  We were really
close, closer than most buddies ever get to each
other!  But now he'd used the "L" word - that word
that men so rarely use to each other.  I could fuck
him, I could kiss him, I could enjoy his body - men do
that together all the time.  But now he was asking for
something else, something incomparably more.   I was
shaken to my core - I mean, guys just don't ask each
other that, do they?  But even as my brain spun,
trying to work out an answer, I knew what it was.
"Yes", was all I could say.

His arms came around me, and mine went around his
body.  We twined our legs together so that our erect
dicks were thrusting against each other.  Our mouths
were locked together, our tongues beating in passion.
And when we finally parted just a little from this
passionate embracing, I felt wetness on his face,
which when I touched it and tasted it, I knew was
tears.  And at that instant it was as if a dam had
burst, as my eyes filled with water, too.  Damn - I'm
a fucking hard, tough guy... And here I was, crying in
sympathy with my lover.  Yes, that is what he now was
my lover, my life's work, the guy for whom I was going
to sacrifice everything.

End Of Part 28