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.
Please send all your comments to: holyrambutan@gmail.com . Thanks and
enjoy the story.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
calm