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