Date: Sun, 12 Apr 2020 19:08:49 +0000
From: DurtyRiter <DurtyRiter@protonmail.com>
Subject: The Battlefield, Chapter 2: Meat

Disclaimer: This is an Adam's Gay Reader pulp story (#236) written by Kurt
McCord. There is no copyright on it, so I wanted to share it with others
before it gets lost forever. I have only corrected spelling and punctuation
errors.

This story is set in the past and includes sex between adult males of
different races and between related men. If this is unappealing or illegal
in your location, please do not read this story.

Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great
resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! ;-)


Chapter 2: Meat

It felt so good lying there beside him, our bodies relaxed and warm under
the blankets. He cradled my head in his arm. I let my hand drift lazily
over his chest and stomach. I liked the feel of his warm flesh. I gently
played with his nipples. My hand strayed down over his yielding stomach
capturing his limp cock. Hard to believe that the limp flesh in my hand
could be so firm and demanding; give such pleasure. Pity it couldn't stay
hard all the time, but then man wasn't made that way, was he?

He stirred, then threw back the blanket, swinging his feet to the
floor. "I'd better check that fire."

I started to follow him to help, but he said, "Stay in bed, I can take care
of it. Got lots of wood. I saw the storm coming and spent all day yesterday
laying in a supply. No need for both of us to get cold."

I watched him stride toward the old cast iron stove we had in the line
cabin. One leg of the stove was gone. It was propped up with a piece of
wood. We seldom used the cabin. Everything was old cast-offs from someplace
else. The two bunk beds sagged. They had seen lots of service. No sheets,
but the blankets were clean and more importantly warm. It was a good place
to hole up in with the blizzard I could hear raging outside.

As I watched him stoke the fire with the wood he had cut, I realized just
how big and strong he was. He was about six feet tall and probably weighed
in at a little over 200 pounds. All of it was hard muscle. No fat on this
stud.

He turned and strode back to the bed, his cock and balls swinging like
metronomes as each step pushed them back and forth. He smiled as he watched
me looking at his cock and balls. "Like what you see?" he asked as he slid
in beside me. I pulled the blankets over us. I pressed my body to his to
warm him.

"Damn right! You are one hunk of a man with one hell of a cock. Tell me, do
you exercise a lot?"

"No, just work long and hard. But I sure as hell know one thing: I am sure
going to exercise that pretty white ass of yours. So I guess you can say
I'm going to exercise this weapon of mine."

"Sure hope you keep your promise," I said.

"Say," he asked, changing the subject. "What's a feller like you doing out
in this storm anyway?"

"Well a passerby told me he saw smoke in my line shack, so I came up to
investigate. In fact, I intended to kick your ass out of my shack, but we
ended up with you kicking my ass around with your cock. I guess it is all
right for you to stay as long as you know how to use that thing between
your legs. Of course, if you wear out, I will kick your ass out of my
shack."

"I ain't gonna wear out. If anything wears out, it will be your ass." He
laughed. He thought a minute and then asked me, "What do you mean your line
shack?"

"I guess I haven't introduced myself. I'm Thane and this is one of the line
shacks on my ranch. I own the place."

"I'm Solomon. How can a young white boy like you own this place?"

"I ain't so young, not after two years in the Union army."

"You fight against the rebs?"

"Yes," I hesitated, "I fought too long and too much."

He ran his hand over the scars on my body, "You get shot?"

"Reb bullets at Gettysburg."

"How did it happen?"

I didn't know what to do. I didn't like to talk about the Civil War I had
fought in for two long years, "I was just a soldier doing his job."

His voice was low and calm, "I would like to hear about it. I would like to
know why you like to have sex with a black man. How you got from the east
to a ranch in Arizona. You say you own this ranch. We have all day. That
storm is going to last. But if you don't want to talk, that is OK too."

"Oh hell, it is no secret; I was in the Union army the last two years of
the war. I'm from Philadelphia, but joined the 1st Minnesota as I had a
friend in that outfit. He died beside me at Gettysburg. Damn, what a way to
go."

I had never talked to anyone about the battles I was in; especially what
had happened at Gettysburg.  Yet for some reason I felt like telling the
man laying beside me. I guess when you lie naked beside a man without the
subterfuge of clothes, one can trust. The truth is just natural at that
point.

"I never talked to anyone about it. As I said, I signed up. The bonus
looked pretty good. I got $300 for taking the place of a rich man's son in
the draft. That looked like a lot of money. Anyway, I signed up. Happy and
proud I was doing the right thing for my country. They marched us down to
Virginia, where we had a few little fights. Then Lee started his raid up
the Cumberland Valley. Hell, we didn't know where he was going and the
generals just had us wandering around. I don't think they knew where they
were going either."

"General Meade was put in charge. The armies both stumbled around
Pennsylvania until we met up at Gettysburg. We, the Rebs and us, made hell
look normal."

"We were ordered to Little Round Top, just a pile of rocks on top of a
little hill. They told us it was the key to the battlefield. I guess it
was, because the Rebs tried hard enough to take it."

"We forted up in the rocks and could look down at the Confederates below
us. It was a beautiful summer day, that July 1, 1863. The sun was shining,
the birds were singing, and a slight breeze was blowing."

"I never knew what it was going to be like, those three days the battle
lasted. Hell can't be that bad. I watched the Rebs form up a straight
line. I found out later it was Company F of the 6th North Carolina."

My voice was low and came slowly as if torn from my guts. I felt it all
over again. Waiting for the attack, the sweat poured from me. I felt like I
was at Little Round Top all over again.

"While we waited, they came through near the peach orchard, then through
the wheat field and up the hill. Straight at us. We were dug in. Their
battle flags were flying as they came on with their officers in front,
sabers in hand. Oh, it was a pretty picture and we listened for the
sergeant's orders for the right time. Then we fired a volley."

"Bodies fell, but they hardly missed a step. We fired again and again, and
finally they were forced back, leaving their dead. They formed again and
came on again. And then again and again."

I was there. I was cold. My breath came in a gasp as if the wings of the
raven of death had brushed me. Again, it was so real just as in my
nightmares of those days.

I gasped for breath, then brokenly went on. "For three days we stopped
them. They fell back. Reformed. Came on. Sometimes in the rocks we met them
face to face, bayonet to bayonet, knife to knife. Using our guns as
clubs. Smashing in their faces." I whimpered, "Oh God, let me forget."

Solomon's strong arms pulled me to him. His rough calloused hand gently
caressed me as he shared my pain. His voice was husky, "Let go. Just say it
and let it go." He soothed me as he would a child.

At last I had someone to tell about those three days. Three days of
killing. Three days trying to live. One face remembered, a boy of maybe 15,
I smashed with my rifle butt. Oh God, why?

"And then," I groaned, "after three days it was over. They came no
more. They were all dead. Company F had died to a man coming forward,
always coming forward."

"Suddenly, I was smashed back and I lay among our dead and dying. Bullets
had found me. Finally it was all over and silence fell over the fields. Had
we won? I don't know. Maybe he generals could tell you, I can't. I know of
the dead piled around me like cordwood. I know the heat, the sweet smell of
blood, the flies... Oh God, the flies; they were everywhere. They fed on
the dead and dying and the blood. Blood was over everything and
everyone. Flies and blood. I know that while F Company was dying to a man,
so were we. For every ten men who marched onto Little Round Top, two of us
crawled out. Or, rather were carried out."

Finally I quieted and grew calmer. I had felt the death cold as I told
Solomon my story. The raven of death had passed by for now. Now the heat of
his body seemed to seep into mine. His large calloused hands stroked my
cheeks and his soft murmuring worked on me. I grew calmer and somehow,
someway it seemed I had finally let go of Little Round Top and
Gettysburg. It was gone. Maybe the nightmares would go too.

Solomon's rough hands were tender and soft as they stroked my body, calming
me and saying he understood without saying a word. He felt what I was
feeling. He too had suffered. A black man in the 1860s while now free,
still suffered. Most, if not everyone, thought of them as inferior even
though all the nice right words were said.

His voice was low but calm as he asked, "Does that have something to do
with the way you treat me, a black man?"

I turned my head and looked at him. "A black company was in the line beside
us. They bled and died just like us. Their blood on the ground was as red
as ours. If they had run, we would have all died. The ground doesn't ask
about the skin color of the man who shed the blood, it just accepts
it. Yes, I guess it was there on the battlefield that I accepted all men."

We were silent for a long time, each with his own thoughts. I didn't know
about him, but I was calm as if a weight had been lifted, that I finally
could tell some one. I liked the feeling of his hands as they roamed over
my body searching out every part, making me feel wanted. Feeling someone
cared. Solomon and I had a peace we shared. Something shared by real men,
strong men.

How long we lay quietly beside each other, I don't know. Our hands just
roamed and felt the other's body. It felt so good. His hand, which was
twice the size of mine, stroked my stomach and then gently captured my
cock. I could feel him milking it much like he was milking a cow. Or he
would cup my balls and gently roll them around. I could feel an urge build
in my stomach as my cock hardened and rose.

"You like old Solomon to play with you?" he asked.

"Damn right. You make me feel good."

"You ready?"

"You bet, any and all the time."

He drew my lips to his. I felt his tongue run over my lips and then insert
itself. I met it with mine. I liked the sensation of our two tongues
meeting. I felt the urges start to flow and my cock firmed.

 "Roll on top of me," he ordered.

In a second I was laying on his body. I arranged our cocks side by side
pressed between our two bodies. I could feel his pubic hair in mine. He ran
his hands down my back fingering each bone in my spine. They cupped my
ass. He pulled the cheeks apart and ran his thick finger up and down the
crack. No part of my body was a stranger to him. The fires of desire were
building hotter and hotter as our lips would meet, separate, and then
retouch in common understanding.

He broke our lips apart, placing his lips to my ear and whispering into it,
"You know what I want?"

He didn't wait for an answer. "I always said I would kill the man who tried
to fuck me. But now, I want you to fuck me. I want us to be part of each
other>"

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes I'm sure," he said. He pushed me down between his legs before he swung
them up so they rested on my shoulders, opening his ass for my assault. I
didn't hesitate. I wanted his offered ass like nothing I had very wanted
before.

I wet my cock with spit and rubbed his asshole with some. I pressed my cock
to the opening. I could feel the resistance and pushed harder. Suddenly I
felt his legs on my shoulders relax and his asshole no longer resisted my
cock. He opened himself to me. Immediately I pressed forward hard. A slight
pressure and then I was imbedded in him.

What an incredible feeling. The heat of his ass surrounded my cock. If
possible, I grew harder. I thrust forward burying my cock in his ass. I
could feel my pubic hair smash as I fully penetrated him. Slowly, oh so
slowly, I began to thrust and withdraw fucking the ass I loved. In and
out. Each time in felt better and better.

Slowly, I felt him respond. At first he just permitted my attack, but
now,he was meeting my attack by thrusting his ass backwards to meet my
cock. I knew he was enjoying my cock just as I had his. We were happy and
content and I wished it could go on forever.

But that was impossible; the urges were too great. Without thought, my
thrusts sped up and he met the rhythm. The old bed creaked and for a flash
I wondered if it would fall down.

There were no more thoughts after that, only the reaction of two healthy
men having sex. Beautiful, lovely sex. The passion was too much. I felt it
start somewhere in my legs, build up through my balls, and finally come
blasting out of my cock as I emptied myself in him. Suddenly, I felt him
spasm and his cock was shooting its gism over his body. Some of it splashed
up on my chest. My entire body was tense with the force of the passion.

I felt the passion pass. I took a deep breath. My muscles went loose as I
collapsed on his body. His legs slipped from my shoulders. He held me in
his arms, the sweat of our bodies gluing our chests together. I closed my
eyes in peace. I was safe. I had found a man, a lover.