Date: Fri, 15 Apr 2005 08:34:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Spoils Of War, Part 29   

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

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

Part  29

Those days on the oil tanker were the happiest I'd
ever spent.  Ali and I knew that we and our men had to
be fit - "fighting fit" - when we got to his country
and started our battle to free the slaves, and so we
worked out almost constantly during the day - running
circuits of the decks (we could do almost a mile
around), lifting weights with weights made from
plastic containers filled with water, and in tough
workout sessions where we did trunk curls, jumping
jacks , press-ups and all the other stuff I'd learned
in the marines to keep your body in good shape.  It
was hot and we mostly did it just in shorts, and the
men now all openly smiled and teased me about my
tattoo, something they'd never dared do before in the
coffle where the guards didn't like to see any of us
having any kind of enjoyment.  And that I guess was
the real change - before, we'd worked hard, fucking
hard, to the limits of our abilities, but that was
because there was always a guard standing there with a
cane, a tawse, or even the threat of a prod.  Now,
proud, and free of the coffle chains, we worked hard
because we wanted to, because we knew it was what we
needed to do to get other slaves as free as we were. 
I found out that there's a difference between being
totally exhausted because you've been flogged into the
ground, and that blissful state of almost euphoria
when you're so tired that you can hardly move another
inch, because you've wanted to exercise your body
until it drops.

If the days were good, the nights were absolutely
fantastic.  We'd always all had sex together as I've
told you, but now, free of the coffle chains, it was a
wholly different experience.  You didn't have to be
concerned about choking another guy as you moved into
position for a good fuck;  you could reach any of the
guys without a lot of clanking and shuffling of the
chain, and almost best of all, there was this
fantastic new mobility as your neck wasn't weighed
down by the heavy iron slave collar and attaching
chains - if you wanted to reach over and suck a dick
dangling there as its owner did something to another
guy, you could!  We'd all thought we knew each other
totally after three years of being coffled together,
and that there wasn't anything that we hadn't done
before with each other - how wrong we were!  Faisel in
particular was always pushing and pulling us into odd
configurations where we "spit roasted" a guy, or
"daisy chained" all together until we collapsed in
almost helpless laughter at the effort required to
synchronise our fucking.  But however long we spent at
sex, when we finally settled down to sleep it was
always Ali in my arms, and me in his.

My only real concern was relations between Ali and his
father - his father was in the owner's cabin high up
near the bridge, and I kept urging Ali to go and spend
time with him.  "No, Steve", he told me.   "We don't
agree.  He's only letting you and the other guys go
free because I fought him.  He's one of the ruling
class.  He's doing well out of the oil deal with the
South, and he wants to keep the status quo.  I won't
speak to him."

"Ali, he's your dad!  In families, at least where I
come from, fathers and sons can disagree about
ideology but can still speak to each other about other
stuff.  So, OK, your differences are more extreme, but
you could still love him as a father.  And he
presumably wants to be with you - why else is he on
this tanker with us? He must be rich enough to be one
of the few people who can still afford the air fares
for transatlantic service...."

It didn't make any difference, though - all my
arguments failed.  Ali could be a real bonehead when
he dug his heels in sometimes, and there seemed to be
nothing for it but to go and see his father again
myself.  I ducked out of our exercises early one
afternoon, showered, and pulled on a clean pair of
shorts and made my way up the ladders and companion
ways towards the bridge.  As I got to the last flight,
there was a burly crew member standing there - he had
that typical redneck look of a thug that you see doing
jobs like bouncers at night clubs.  I went to brush
past him, and he grabbed my arm.

"Not so fast!  Where do you think you're going,
slave?"

"To see the owner."

"We don't allow slaves in this part of the ship.  This
is for respectable folk, real men, not dirty
slaves....  Particularly not stinking Arabs... It's
bad enough having to crew on a ship where the owner's
an Arab, but having a whole lot of others crawling all
over the place isn't on.  Now, get back down there,
where you belong, boy."

He was really surprised when I answered him in
English.  "I'm not a fucking slave, man!  And even if
I was, and even if I was an Arab, I'd go up to see the
owner if I wanted to.  Now take your hand off my arm
before I take it off for you, and get out of my way,
if you don't want to get hurt...."

"You're one of those Northern slaves, aren't you? 
Consorting with the Arabs now, and fucking around with
them.  Now get back down there...."

Well, I had warned him, hadn't I?  And although he was
big and tough looking, as so many of those bouncers
are, he didn't have the honed fitness I had, and he
certainly hadn't been trained in hand to hand combat
as I'd been, both in the marines and in the arena.  I
don't think I did him really serious damage, not to
his internal organs or anything.  But his already
squat stupid face would be even worse now that his
nose was broken, and I could see from the way that his
arm was dangling loosely that it would take quite a
long time for the fractures to heal.  

I'd wanted to go and talk to Ali's father calmly, but
when I burst into the owner's stateroom I was still
breathing hard from the fight, and my torso and my
shorts were streaked with the guy's blood.   Ali's
father had been speaking on the satellite phone, and
at once put it down, looking really alarmed.  "Steve
,what's happened.... Is Ali all right?"  he shouted
out, getting to his feet in concern.   

"Oh sure!  This is just from that goon you employ to
stop people getting into the crew's quarters... He
told me slaves weren't allowed up here, and I had to
teach him a lesson..."

"Well, technically, he's right - this is a ship from
my country sailing from the USA, and in both places
slavery is legal.  And you are a slave, even though
you've had your collar cut off."

"But we're free...."

"Technically, no.  Once you're a slave, you're a slave
for ever.  There's no mechanism for freeing slaves. 
But we'll let that pass, at least for the time being :
I may have to use this on Ali, to protect him, in
future..."

"That's what I want to talk to you about.... What's
going to happen when we arrive?  Ali wants to start
fighting the occupying forces immediately... Will you
be supplying money, guns, stuff like that?"

"No!  You must remember that I am a member of the
Ruling Council.  We have decided to co-operate with
the South, even though they have invaded us.  We do
not like all our young fighting men having been taken
off as slaves, but with over twenty thousand occupying
troops in our country, we are worried about the
consequences for our people if we do something to
upset the South.  So we are like the Vichy French in
WW II, co-operating with the Germans..."

"But look what happened to them, eventually..."

"I know, Steve.  And that's why we're not provoking
the Southern occupiers.  I cannot support Ali... He
will have to live a normal life as my son, run our
businesses, have sons from his wives..."

"Look, that isn't going to happen.  He's determined to
fight the South and to get your men who were taken as
slaves repatriated.  If you don't help him, you'll
lose him."

"But I cannot.  I have a greater duty to all our
people."  The man looked so sad, and I could see that
he was wrestling with his conscience.  He looked hard
at me, and after a time said "No, Steve, things must
be as things must be.  Ali must do what he believes to
be right, and I must do what I believe to be right. 
That is the way that men behave, even if it means
losing the love of a son for his father, or of a
father for his son.  But I will never cease to love
Ali, whatever he does, and whatever he thinks of me. 
He is my only son, and a man needs to see his genes
going on through the generations."

I thought he was going to break out and cry, as he
lowered his voice and continued "So will you help me,
Steve?"

"No!  Ali's my friend, well, more than that, much
more..."

"Yes, I understand.  You are loyal and strong, and Ali
will need you.  No, I want you to help me by taking
care of him, as I will soon no longer be able to
protect him.  I lost him once when he fought the
Southerners and was captured and enslaved.   I thought
I had regained him when I eventually traced him and
bought your coffle, but now I see that I must lose him
again.  But you will be with him, Steve.  You will
always be at his side.  Take care of him for me, as I
can no longer do so.  No man can make his way entirely
alone in the world - without his father to help him he
will need a totally loyal friend, lieutenant....
lover.    Will you promise to look after him as if he
was your brother, a brother who you love totally and
completely?"

"I don't need to say it, do I?  You know that I will."

He came over and embraced me, the blood form my torso
staining his immaculate white robe, and he was
unconcerned.  He handed me a piece of paper then, and
said "Take this.  On it is a number that you must
remember - it  is my global phone number, and if I am
not there, there is always someone who can contact me.
 Just tell them that Steve needs to speak to me, and
they will find me.... It is the best that I can do. 
One day, who knows, you may be able to use this to
help Ali, or yourself.  Even if Ali is killed, you,
Steve, deserve my help - you are a loyal and good
servant to him, and to me."

Well, I didn't exactly like that - I mean, I wasn't
anyone's servant!  I was going to be a free man again,
irrespective of what he said about there being no way
of freeing slaves.  But he embraced me again, and
there seemed to be nothing more to be said, so I went
back to the guys who were still exercising.

That night Ali rounded on me and seemed angry.  "You
went to see my father!  Are you betraying me?"

"Don't be so fucking stupid!  I went to try to make
him see sense, see that he needs to help you!  I hate
to see a father and son quarrelling:  remember that I
don't have the luxury of telling my father anything,
as he was killed as a consequence of the Civil War. 
You and your father are like two big moose or elk,
horns locked together, fighting over who's biggest and
best!  But I've tried explaining that to you, and to
him, and it's not working.  But don't blame me for
trying, OK?"

"So he's going to stop me from fulfilling my destiny,
to free the slaves...?"

"No he isn't.  But he's not going to help you either. 
But at least that's some progress.  Now go up there
and shake his hand, or embrace him or something,
whatever you Arabs do!  You might never see each other
again, Ali - you could be killed,  or he could be
taken by the Southerners for failing to do their
bidding.... You are father and son:  you may not
agree, but you should not leave this ship as enemies!"

We argued on for what seemed like a long time, and
then, finally, I almost pushed him out of the door and
told him to go and see his father.  I never found out
what they said, except that it can't have been much as
it was a very short meeting, but Ali seemed to be a
little happier when he came back.  I looked at him,
and he sort of shrugged, and muttered "I suppose you
were right, Steve."

"So you've made it up?"

"No.  I think he's wrong, and he thinks I'm wrong.  We
are not friends, but we are no longer enemies."

"One day, if you both survive, you'll be glad, Ali.  A
man needs his father, however old he is... You will
find, I'm sure, that at some point in  the future you
will understand each other again."

He shrugged again, and looked doubtful, but there was
nothing more I could say or do.   

When we docked eventually there was some help from
Ali's father, as he gave Ali the use of a small house
the family owned in one of the poorer suburbs of the
capital.  I say "small" -  Ali called it that, as he
was used to his father's palace, but all eight of us
fitted in perfectly easily.  Ali muttered about not
being allowed to live in the palace, but I pointed out
that his father had really helped us by making us more
inconspicuous.  

After we'd settled in (helped by a generous amount of
cash from Ali's father!), Faisel came and asked Ali if
he and the other guys could take a few days off, as
they wanted to return to their homes and see their
families.  

At first, Ali said no, as they were his fighters and
he needed to start the battle, but I worked on him and
pointed out that unlike him and me, the others all had
families who they hadn't seen for years.  It as only
right for them to go now, for what might be the last
time - if we were to be serious guerilla fighters,
there was a high probability that they might be
killed.

"No, Steve", he said at one point.   "If I let them
go, they will not come back..."

"You're wrong, Ali.  They revere you as their leader. 
By letting them go and spend this time with their
families you will reinforce your strength as a leader.
 They will all return, I am sure of it.  If you do not
let them go, they will probably leave anyway  - the
need to see their sons and wives is almost
overwhelming - and then they will not return.  Trust
me on this... "

He was very reluctant, but the six guys left, and as
we lay together than night, and after we'd enjoyed
really great sex (although it was a bit odd, there
just being the two of us), Ali did as he usually did
and drifted into sleep.  I prodded my elbow sharply
into his ribs to get his attention, and said "We have
ten days before the men return."

"Yes, Steve.  So there's no need to keep me awake now
- plenty of time for fucking...."

"No, there's something else you must do.  You must
fulfil your promise to your father."

"What promise?"

"You agreed to cover your wives, and get them
pregnant, so he could have grandchildren, if he let us
all escape with you."

"No way.  That was something I just said in the heat
of the moment.  I've got you, Steve, I don't need
wives."

"Ali, you promised.  And you want to be a great leader
- well, leaders always do as they say.  And you have
me, OK, but your father does not have you and cannot
have you until this war thing is over, one way or the
other.  So he needs grandchildren instead.  So you
must do it.  It's no big deal... And you have four
wives.... A lot of guys would think that sounds like
fun."

"No, Steve.  I will not.  I cannot!"

H was almost trembling, and it was not with rage, but
something else.  I held him close, and tried to find
out the root cause of his concern. We went all through
it - yes, he had promised. Yes, he accepted that
leaders only became "great" if they kept their
promises.  Yes, he thought his father would look after
his grandchildren well.  Yes, he had four wives.  But
no, he would not go and fuck them!  I was totally
exasperated, and demanded to be told why he was just
failing at the last hurdle of this course, but he went
into one of his sullenly silent moods, and just lay
there.

I kept on turning things over in my mind, and tried to
understand his reluctance to do this simple thing. 
Finally, I prodded him again, and when he turned to
look at me, a very sad look in his eyes, I said "It's
not me, is it Ali?  You're not worried that I'll be
pissed off if you go and fuck your wives?  Because
it's no problem for me - I want you to do the right
thing, and the right thing is to get them pregnant
now, so we can move on!  It's only just fucking them -
 what we've got is something else, proper man to man
love."

He hugged me, but still seemed unhappy.  "Oh for
Christ sake, Ali, all you need to do is five or ten
minutes fucking - you do that all the time wit the
other guys in our coffle.  What's the problem?"

Finally, in a tiny voice, as if he was ashamed, he
whispered to me "But I don't know how, Steve... I've
never been with a woman."

"But they are your wives..."

"Yes, but I was betrothed as a child.  I hardly know
them.  And I don't fuck women.  I  never have.  I
don't  know what to do."

He was surprised when I burst out laughing!  "Is that
all?  Oh, you dumb fuck, why didn't you say so?  You
can tell me things like that - we're buddies, no we're
lovers, right?  And that's what lovers do - tell each
other their greatest fears!"

"But  I can't go in there and not know what to do!"

"Well you won't have to!"

"What?"

"Look, Ali, before I discovered proper sex, I used to
be known as quite a stud.  I've probably fucked more
women than you've had dicks up your ass!  I know what
to do, and I'll show you.  We're buddies, right?  So
we'll do it together - you'll be OK, as I'll guide
you, show you the ropes, give you little tips as you
go along."

He looked doubtful, so I went on "And it will be fun
for me, too - I like to watch that butt of yours when
you're fucking one of the other guys... It's not so
different, you know, and after I've watched you
thrusting away, I'll be so fucking horny that when we
get back here you'll think your ass has caught fire!"

It turned out that none of these wives was a virgin or
anything, well, not as far as I could tell.  I
imagined they'd been amusing themselves with a lot of
lovers, as they seemed to be quite excited at the idea
of Ali and me together!  You always think of Arab
women as being shy and retiring, don't you? Well,
these weren't:  they threw themselves around, moaned
and screamed as we fucked them, and if I hadn't now
been totally turned off women, it might have been a
really great time.  The first one was the worst - Ali
didn't even want to look at her naked body.  So to try
and encourage him I fucked her, and as I was doing it,
called to him to come and stand behind me and hold his
body close to mine so that his dick was pressed into
my ass crack.

After I'd cum in her, I pulled out, looked at Ali, and
said "OK, your turn now!  You've seen how I do it,
just do the same."  Poor guy, he couldn't even make
himself have an erection, and I had to kneel down,
stick my finger up his ass, and tickle his prostate to
get him erect.  Then, before he could lose the plot, I
stood right behind him, put one arm around his chest
and used the other to guide his dick into her!  I then
almost had to make him fuck by pushing into him and
pulling him out - it would have been really funny to
see it, I suppose, but he got the message after a time
and did shoot his load as well.

We sent her away then, and both sat on the side of the
bed.  I put my arm round his shoulders and pulled him
close.  "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It was awful, Steve.   Give me a proper guy to fuck
any day..."

"Oh come on!  You don't fuck all that often - it's
usually me that's fucking you..."

"Yes, but it's vile:  all those breasts, and so fat...
Not lean and hard, like you, Steve..."

"Well there's no helping that - that's the way women
are.  So one down, three to go....  Still, you know
what to do now, so you can just do it when they think
it's the best day for conception."

"No, Steve - you've got to help me.  And I want you to
fuck them all, too."

"But then we'd never know whose kid it was.... yours
or mine?  Well, not unless we tested the DNA..."

"That's right, Steve.  I want them to be our sons,
both our sons.  So I don't want to know whose sperm it
actually was that did the deed.  You'll fuck one of
the others first followed by me, and then I'll do two
first followed by you.  So we've both got even chances
of siring the son."

"You seem very sure it's going to be sons, buddy."

"Oh it will be - and that's the hard part - I may have
to keep coming back to them, over and over, until
there's a son on the way:  as early as they can
they'll test them, and if they're bearing daughters,
they'll simply be aborted.   I only promised my father
sons, Steve, not a whole lot of daughters to mess up
the succession, and all that sort of stuff."

"But it might be that it was a son of mine who's the
eldest.... That would mess up the succession!"

"Only if anyone ever found out.  I've told you, Steve,
 I love you.  And as far as I'm concerned, a son of
yours is as good as it gets."

It all sounded so bizarre, but, on the other hand, I
was kind of thrilled - I mean, a man wants to carry on
his line, doesn't he?  That's what millions of years
of evolution has fitted men for - to impregnate as
many women as possible, so that his genes spread
through the gene pool.  The only thing that had
slightly saddened me when I'd discovered proper sex
and had stopped fucking women was that I thought I'd
never have kids - and now, it seemed, I was going to
have sons!  Or, at least, I had a fifty-fifty chance
of having them!    

I turned and kissed Ali deeply.  I looked into his
eyes, and muttered "Look, I know what we're about to
do is extremely dangerous, very risky... We'll
probably both be killed.  But I'll fight alongside
you, you know that.... But what about these sons..
Won't your father have to know?"

"No, Steve.  This is our secret.  They're our sons,
not mine, not yours:  ours.  And if we're both killed,
they'll never be able to do a DNA test.  And if only
one of us survives, we can refuse it."

I kissed him again, and it was one of those pivotal
moments in our relationship.  Sharing the women and
having sons was the best thing that had ever happened
to me.  I felt such strong emotions for Ali, stronger
than I'd ever felt before, and I wanted to push him
down onto the bed and fuck him there and then.  But I
could smell that smell of woman on my dick, and it
wasn't right to push it up Ali there and then:  still,
we did have a most amazingly enjoyable bath together
when we explored every part of our bodies with our
soapy hands.  And then I fucked him.

End Of Part 29