Although this story is fictional, the cultural milieu is based on the history of the Philippine-American War of 1899-1901 (downplayed by American textbooks as the "Philippine Campaign" or "Philippine Insurrection.") Any similarities to any persons or events, past or present are purely coincidental except for historical figures mentioned. This story may contain scenes which involve sexual situations between males. If this type of material is offensive to you, or it is not legal for you to be reading this type of material, please do not read any further. Please do not copy this story for distribution or post on any online server without the author's permission.
July 20, 1900 4:30 p.m
It is raining hard here in the jungles of Batangas where I arrived a few days ago, on the orders of the Supremo, Heneral Emilio Aguinaldo. The town the Supremo assigned me, Calaca, is thankfully safe and not battle-scarred even though, I have to admit, this small poblacion is nothing compared to the lights of Manila. How I wish I was still in Manila with my regiment- damn those Americanos! The bastard Americanos are closing in on us and I hope these monsoon rains will stop their advance. How they fooled us when they promised to help us with our independence against Spain just so they can occupy my country is the height of treachery. They deserve to be garroted and shot. I heard the Supremo told us that if he will be given a second chance, he'll shoot personally the foreign devil, Dewey, who fooled him into thinking he was on our side.
I am keeping this journal alive so it will keep me alive and sane in this boredom. Nothing really happens in Calaca- just a cluster of thatch houses beside an emerald green river nestled among coconut plantations- and my fellow soldiers are getting restless. They want to see action. They want to kill Americanos. They want to slice their necks apart. At least that negro, Kapitan Feyden, I have heard that even though he came with the negro regiment from San Francisco, he deserted and fought against his white masters just so us, Filipinos, can have our freedom from colonial yoke. He is a real hero to all Filipinos. And truly, that negro is more Filipino than some of the rich Ilustrados who coddle and pander with those white American imperialists so that they can pocket more profits at the expense of the blood of their fellow countrymen.
Fortunately, it's good that all the people here are sympathetic to our fight for freedom. Even the alcalde, Enrique Ledesma who was gracious enough in billeting us in a spare two-story guest house, is supporting us. Thank God.
Tonight, my close friend Lt. Rocha and I will be having dinner with the Mayor's brother. I must say, his younger brother has a very pleasing personality and an agreeable face. Very mestizo, with dark hair, thick eyelashes, broad shoulders, and alabaster skin- a marriage of East and West. I was foolish enough to blush when we first shook hands during my arrival. I can't help it. I can feel his eyes boring into my soul every time we talk about his coconut and banana plantations. But this may just be my imagination, for I don't think Simeon is interested in me in that way. These feelings that heat my loins are getting more difficult to suppress. This time, I thought a volcano would erupt from my cojones.
Although he is rich and powerful in these parts, Simeon is still a bachelor at the age of 26, which is very odd considering there is an abundance of mestiza lasses fanning themselves for his attention. Simeon in all my existence is one of the most masculine-looking, piercing, and most handsome gentlemen I have met. But then, he said "God will give me a sign, Crisostomo. When that sign comes, I will make that person mine, even if that person doesn't want to." He looked at me, smiled, then gave a chuckle.
So, I congratulated him for his fortitude and temperance, but I reminded him "Don't take too long a time in waiting for someone who may not come. I say, take the risk, with or without a sign." He just laughed. His laughter was boisterous but genial. He makes me want to know him more. And perhaps tonight I will.
July 20, 1900 11:00 p.m.
I just had arrived from Simeon's palatial house. The road home was dark and muddy, and damn, the walk has soiled my good pants. It will take another two days to wash the mud off in this foul weather.
I should have left earlier if it were not for Simeon's insistence to join him in his private lounge for some after-dinner Poker. He was already drunk and I asked if he wanted to call it a night, but he was determined to play his silly game. He even had the temerity to suggest we play strip poker as he had learned from Madame Victorina's brothel. Of course, my friend Luis Rocha was not amused. I instead laughed it off just to defuse that awkward moment. Good thing because Simeon and later, Luis laughed with me. But I saw the playful flicker in Simeon's eyes looking at me just to see if I will bite his offer or not. It was wise on my part not to give any indication of pleasure to his offer, an ability I had honed since childhood.
Simeon just smiled at Luis and me, and dared us to bet on several rounds of poker. I hadn't had a centavo with me and Luis only had a couple of pesos, so I begged Simeon to call the bets off. However, that mischievous mestizo had other ideas in mind. He said that our payment will be deferred, subject for retrieval during an appropriate time. He made me sign a couple of blank chits as assurance of my good faith. Luis looked incredulous but relented nonetheless.
It was huge mistake. I lost a fortune. For 20 pesos, one can already have a fiesta for 50 people, and for the 100 pesos I lost in the game, it will take more than a fiesta to pay it all off. Simeon, with his enigmatic smile, reassured me that he will not ask for immediate payment, but he will collect it from time to time, be it in cash or in kind. From his reputation in town as a strict paymaster to the obreros, I felt a cold shudder run down my back. It has just been two weeks since my arrival and I'm already buried in debt. And the rich bastard just smiled at me.
As for Luis, he won 30 pesos which Simeon gladly gave him in a small pouch. Luis smiled wanly as he jiggled the small bag of coins and stuffed it inside his uniform pocket. I felt envious of Luis then.
Simeon told me not to worry because since I am his friend, he will collect the debt in amicable terms. I hope so. I guess the leather journal I gave Simeon as a present when I first arrived has reminded him of our friendly relationship.
Other than the poker game, the dinner was generally uneventful. The food, consisting of spit-roasted pig, callos, pork empanadas, lumpia, paella valenciana, sinigang soup, lengua estofado, and other Spanish entrees was rich and superb. It was even topped with fresh mangoes, ensaymadas and leche flan, the specialty of the cooks of the Ledesma household. All food was placed in expensive china and drinks in baccarat crystal. Even the toothpick holders in the shape of pineapples were made from silver. I wonder if this was their everyday supper.
Mayor Enrique was in a sour mood that night and was fairly quiet the whole meal. His wife was not with him, so probably he had another verbal disagreement with Mrs. Ledesma. On the contrary, Simeon and his two sisters, Clarita and Stella were good enough to regale me with their childhood tales- of Muslim pirates from Mindanao pillaging Calaca during summer, of ghosts of headless nuns seen in their convent school, of a cache of jewels found behind the ruins of San Isidro church, of bandits stealing bananas in the dead of night and how the obreros or farmhands gave the bandits who were mere twelve years old a good whipping. We had a hearty time laughing our heads off, even Luis Rocha was boisterously laughing with Simeon. Clarita wanting to talk more about the family stories told the group of Simeon's first amorous crush. She said her name was Soledad, but from her descriptions, she must have looked like a goat, because in the end, we couldn't help but laugh at Simeon who was too embarrassed to comment. Simeon just looked at me and smirked. He took a swill of his rum, then left.
July 22, 1900 3:00 p.m.
It has been two days since we left Calaca. The skies were cooperating and hadn't rained so far but the ground we were walking was still soft and wet. Our boots were sloshing at every step. It was slippery on some parts that we were forced to hold on jungle roots and vines. This is not good for the attack.
Yesterday morning, I got a cable communiqué from Heneral Aguinaldo ordering my men to station along the slopes of Mt. Tanginamo. American troops were allegedly seen in the nearby town of Lemery, so capturing them was a strict order. We needed to lure them into the thick jungle of Mt. Tanginamo and when they're in our midst, we capture them alive. It's best this way so we can have leverage in dealing with the treacherous Americanos.
Lt. Rocha is with his men on the other side of the mountain, so today, it's just me and my hundred and two never-tested men. At least in my previous regiment, the men I was with in Manila, they were battle-hardened and their bravery never wavered. This time, I am full of doubts. The troops are barely twenty years old and their arms are 2nd class stolen Spanish rifles. I only write to God to help us in this time of need.
As I looked over to the East, the coastal town of Lemery looked quiet with its single stone church and cluster of houses around it, but with the Americans infiltrating the jungle, one can never be too sure. I have to keep my eyes open tonight.
July 23, 1900 11:00 a.m.
Just after breakfast, I had a pigeon carry me a message to my commander in Calaca. I wrote down in coded Tagalog that we had captured last night two Americano soldados roaming in our part of the jungle.
It was probably before midnight. The camp's fire was already extinguished and everyone was already sleeping save for the soldiers assigned for the watch. I was dead tired and wanted to sleep but I felt I can't have these young men alone without an officer in charge.
I was relieving myself in a clearing nearby when suddenly I heard grass being trampled underfoot. I first thought it was one of my soldiers, so I left it at that. Squatting on the side of the field to relieve one's bowels made me a target for capture. But then, I had no choice. I had to let nature take its course. I had to wait for them to come. At first I thought it was one of the sentries, but then, I heard voices- two male voices speaking in English. The first voice was gruff while the second, boyish and scared.
I made no attempt to move from my position. The voices and the footsteps stopped abruptly several meters away and then I heard a buckle being unfastened and pants being pulled down. At first, I thought that they are going to relieve themselves also, but then, I heard a soft moan saying, "Yeah, chow it down, Colt. Take all my manmeat or I'll ram it through your throat."
This was followed by more moans and whimpers. I suddenly realized what they were doing. I quickly wiped my bottom and did not bother to put on my pants, I just got my pistol from my holster and slowly and slowly, I crept to the edge where I can see two soldiers, one laying on his back with both hands kneading another soldier's head into his crotch. I saw the sweaty grimacing face of the older one glistening against moonshine. The younger one was busily massaging his partner's thighs while his head kept bobbing up and down the other man's meat sucking dry of all its juices. The tempo increased and the poor boy's head was being rammed unmercifully by soldier's thick veiny shaft. I then heard the gruff voice saying, "OOOOHHHH yeah! You pussy! Take my sperm!! Drink it all!!!" with his pelvis lodged in the younger one's mouth.
I became so excited that my pitoy was fully aroused. My loin was getting wet and hot from the torrid scene unfolding in front of me. I released the safety pin from my pistol and growled loudly "You two! Don't even move a muscle!" in halting English.
The two suddenly stopped their juicy activity and looked up to me in horror. They were speechless, their eyes widened. And in a split second, the younger one took his rifle and tried to aim at me. I quickly aimed for his hand and in the darkness, a loud flash escaped my pistol. It didn't hit him but it was enough for him to know that I was serious.
I said, "Don't MOVE!" They did not. The young soldier was very scared and there was even some sperm running down his gaping mouth. He looked like 17 or 18, tousled hair, button nose, his face boyish but hardened. I stepped forward and kicked both of their rifles away from their grasp. Both of them were paralyzed in their lover's position.
I then yelled to the younger one, "Lick my penis. Chupa me pitoy!" I guess he did not understand my heavily-accented English, but when I pointed the pistol to my throbbing member and waved to his face, he then understood. He crawled in front of me and placed his hand inside my calzoncillo. I felt his rough hand touching my penis, holding mine in his calloused hand, rubbing the already turgid member.
Just as he was about to pull down my drawers, I heard shouts in Tagalog coming towards me. It seemed that my sentries heard the shot. They rushed over and saw that I caught two Americanos in a state of undress. They cocked their rifles on the two interlopers and laughed heartily. I felt the blood that rushed to the embarrassed faces of these soldiers.
Their weapons were confiscated at gunpoint and their uniforms sequestered. I had them tied up and placed inside a thatched hut in the middle of camp. I told my men to guard the house perimeter while I talk to the prisoners in private.
I stepped inside the hut and the two Americanos were scared to death. They saw my pistol in my hand and they trembled on the floor. The older one even wet his underpants with urine. I felt excited then, the rush of power was exquisite and the rush of blood to my loins was exhilarating. Here on the bamboo floor are two good-looking American soldiers at my mercy; two white imperialists helpess under the race they came to subjugate.
I knelt in front of the older soldier and said, "What is your name and rank?"
I was hoping he will be civilized enough to answer my perfectly civilized question, but he spat on my face and shouted, "You muthafucking nigger!! When I get out of here, I'll personally shoot you between your eyes, you got that you fucker!! You stupid goo-goo!! You nigger!! You monkey!! You no good piece of shit!!"
Never have I witnessed such racial profanity. These filthy Americans! They make the Spaniards look like angels! If the Spaniards discriminated us based on class and wealth, these Americans discriminate us based on skin color! My hatred for them doubled. I don't want them to rule over us if this is the way they will treat my countrymen- calling us goo-goos, niggers, and monkeys. I stood up, wiped my face and straddled his had rippling abdomen. I said again, "What is your name and rank, you imperialist pig?"
He merely spat on my face again and called me names that any good Filipina would blanch. But as I sat in his gut, I felt something enlarging in the cleft of my buttocks. I looked down and saw his penis jutting forward to my hole as if wanting to enter me. I looked back and his face went from white to livid purple, and he began to curse me at the top of his lungs. I moved up and down and clockwise over his hardened loins and the soldier began to moan, "OooOOhh^Å Yeahh^Å Shhhiit you monkey!"
I stood up and walked over in front of his sprawling legs. I smirked at the poor soul, his face contorted with disgust, pleasure and disappointment of me leaving him. I asked once again, "Name and rank?"
He smiled back and said, "You stupid idiot! You monkey! No goo-goo nigger will make me talk!"
Incensed by his impertinence, my right boot took a swing which connected to his aching balls. The soldier gave out a loud painful cry as he cowered in a fetal position, groaning in pain. I walked over to the younger soldier who tried to kill me with his rifle. He had that blank stupefied look- shock I believe it was. I went over and straddled his lean muscular abdomen and asked him, "Name and rank!"
He murmured, "D-D-David C-Colt, sir, private."
"Bueno. You seem sensible Pvt. Colt. Answer me correctly and you might even go home to your base. Tell me, you like men, David?"
David's face went crimson. He looked away trying not to make eye contact with me. I slowly pressed my buttocks on his rapidly hardening penis. He moaned a little and he pushed his pelvis to meet my butt. I realized that this boy was far enjoying our little meeting.
I looked at him intently and asked again, "You like men, David?"
He looked away. He was too embarrassed to answer.
"Bueno. Be a good boy, hijo, and you may just be able to go home."
I think Pvt. Colt shall be the one I will use during the interrogation. So, I undressed Pvt. Colt's drawers and knelt beside him. I used my hand to begin stroking his 8 inch fat penis and I myself was truly aroused at this foreign penis.
"Ohhh^Å Sir^Å. Please^Å," David moaned.
"Please what, private?"
"Ahhh^Å hhhhh^Å. th-this is wrong sir^Å"
I snickered. "Oh? Then let me right it then^Å" I squeezed his base more, making the poor boy writhe in a fit of ecstasy.
I know I enjoy the company of men from an early age, but this is the first time I have seen and touched a penis of a foreign youth. It was turgid, stiff but rubbery, white with a flaring head, its hairs curled and amber-colored, and the smell heady and strong like a queso de bola. Unlike most Filipino penises I have seen, this was the first adult penis that was uncircumcised.
I clasped my hand on his hardened shaft and I squeezed it tight, stroking it up and down, setting clear pearls of fluid flowing down the slit, wetting my stroking hand. I felt aroused by the whole process and I licked my lips seeing the exquisite ecstasy the young soldier was in. My brown hand began to stroke quicker, applying vigorous strokes and different pressures on the shaft.
The power I felt was so heady and tantalizing. I feel its electricity coursing down my veins encouraging me to do more than stroking, but I think it was for the best that I stuck to mere stroking. But oh but, the temptation to taste David's forbidden fruit was making my head spin.
I heard him say, "Ohhhoohhh^Å yeahhh^Å more^Å please.. sir^Å. Ahhhhh^Å"
My hand stroked the entire length of David's hard shaft, from the base up to the oozing tip. David's pelvis buckled and tried to meet my hand, his eyes shut and his mouth opened in lustful pleasure. After a few more strokes, I felt his penis thickened and with one forceful push of his loin, his penis erupted in volleys of creamy white fluid that landed on his rippled stomach.
My hand caught a lot of his cream and I smelled it, sniffed it, and realized that it smelled the same as mine. I was tempted bring my stained hand to my mouth to taste his seed, but I want to keep my control of this boy, so I just wiped it on his drawers.
I asked, "Private Colt, tell me the location of your camp, the number of troops, your commander, and your purpose of your incursion in these parts."
The older soldier groaned in pain, "NOOO!! Colt!! You stupid kid!! Don't tell this goo-goo anything!!! He'll kill us all! He'll eat us for supper!!"
Seeing that this might influence the kid, I sighed. "If you will not answer my question, then, we shall kill you both and bury you here. Of course, if you do answer my question correctly and politely, you will be treated fairly."
David's eyes traveled to his partner, then to mine. I saw his doubt and hesitation but after a few minutes of restroking his quickly stiffening member, he blurted out, "Please sir! Don't kill us! We're good men, sir, really!"
I sense a chink in the armor. I pressed on. "So Private Colt, please tell me where your base is located, the number of troops, your commander and your purpose of your visit here in our fair province." I kept kneading his massive penis.
"OOhhhh^Å..We have a small camp just on the outskirts of Lemery, sir, about a couple of miles from town. We're just a small detachment sir, about 50 men sir, and, and, hhaaaaahhh^Å^Åmy commander is Lt. Wolff and we're here to build bridges sir."
"You know Private Colt, if your information is wrong, my men will castrate you. Are you telling the truth?"
David stammered, "Yes, sir. Please believe me sir."
"Bueno."
I saw tears streaming down his cheeks. He was ashamed of betraying his people for the enemy. But I kept stroking his turgid member, stroking and squeezing it tightly until David shot another batch of cream into my hands. He was panting like a mad dog, his eyes closed with shame.
I got up and left the hut. I ordered my men to check the tightness of the cords in their hands to make sure everything was secured. As I walked towards my hut, I suddenly realized that David's cream was still stuck on my fingers. I sniffed it and took a small taste. I looked around just to make sure no one was there. I took my fingers and licked it all. Not a single drop left. I think I'll make Pvt. Colt talk some more. Probably tomorrow.
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