O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

Unfinished Business (mm)

by Randy Dragon

The hoarse laughter and lewd shouts of his men indicated that the fuck fest was in full swing but Rashad did not care. He lay in his tent reflecting on the recent events. He had virtually bagged the feared American fighter Al-Dowary. The cocksure big American red-hair had underestimated the rebel leader and right at the moment when the brawny Marine was about to establish his alpha male status by seeding his enemy, Rashad had managed to turn the tables. It had been a fierce struggle, however, in the end the shrewd Arab had prevailed. Never would he forget the furious roar of defeat he had forced out of the American fighter by ramming his manhood brutally between the muscular Master Sergeant’s well-rounded butt cheeks as well as the grunts both angry and horny when he flooded his defeated foe with his Arab man seed. When he zipped the still defiant Marine into a body bag, there was a lot of convulsions, rearing and angry muffled grunts, but then the chloroform did its work and the big body went limp. The Asian allies had arrived in time and the big Marine was shipped - as Rashad assumed for good – to serve as a sex cow in the milking sheds of a Korean research facility. Rashad smirked, when he imagined how the muscular Marine’s cum would be used to develop a selective bio-engineered weapon that would take out entire American armies.

By early dawn his rebel unit had taken him and his two captives by truck out of Basra and while they were traveling North he let his men have their way with the nurse they had captured with the Marines at the Basra hospital. It was a fair reward to the calloused warriors, who never had the opportunity to screw a blonde woman.

The younger stocky Marine, however, Rashad had claimed for himself. It seemed to be just fair, as he had given up the bigger prey already. Yet, he was not sure what he intended to do with the young Corporal. May be, after some training he would sell him off to a rich Arab. The wealthy pot-bellied business moguls from the Golf were known to favour well-built, corn-fed blue-eyed US boys to satisfy their carnal desires.

For the time being he let the captured soldier uneasy about his fate. Rashad had returned Tanker his camo pants and given him a shabby T-Shirt, but no boots, so he wouldn’t get far if he ever tried to make a run on bare feet. At night his hands and feet were cuffed, but apart from that he was treated well.

The rebels fucked themselves silly with the nurse and feeling safe and horny they became careless. Even the guards participated in the free-for-all fuck fest.

The rebel commander grinned. It was easy to keep the simple folks happy. A chick or a blond boy and they forgot about the strains of war at least for a few hours. The Americans called that R & R.

Rashad’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an explosion and flash of bright light outside of the tent. Machine gun fire and further explosions from hand grenades told the Arab fighter that the camp was raided.

The attack was made by an American elite squad that was searching for Hank O’Dowerty and the other captives.

The Iraqi commander cursed the carelessness of his men, but he knew that this fight was lost. There was no way they could defeat trained US combat force in open battle and now the enemy even had the advantage of surprise.

All he could do was to run and care for his very own freedom. He searched around in his tent, for equipment he might need for his escape. Obviously he couldn’t burden himself with too much stuff.

“That’s it, rag-head! Now they are going to kick your friggin’ brown ass!”, Corporal Tanker Conlay shouted with glee. He heard the sound of fighting and knew that rescue was close. Any moment, fighters with camouflage applied to grim faces would burst into the tent and take his captor. Rashad looked at the cuffed American lying at the foot of his bed and suddenly he was determined not to give up this bounty for which he had fought so hard. He reached for a bandana and wrapped the black fabric around his head. His dark eyes were sparkling menacingly as he reached for the Marine.

“What do you want now? Give it up camel-fucker, it’s no point - you’ve lost, you … no … fuck … mmmpphhh,”

Standing 5.9 ft and weighing 210 lbs the Arab was a powerful, sinewy man himself. Rashad lifted the gagged Corporal almost effortless on his shoulder despite his kicking and struggling.

It would be a narrow escape for Rashad. 5.5 ft tall with 150 lbs the stocky, all-American blond country boy was not a lightweight. He had played as a linebacker at High-School and his body had been carved into a hunky muscle machine by the drill sergeants of Camp Pendleton, San Diego.

“Stop that fighting, it will do you no good,” Rashad hissed through clenched teeth while he was racing to a neighboring tent for coverage.

“Ummmmphh ... mmmh,” Tanker had anything else up his mind but stopping fighting. His dick was painfully squeezed between his lap and the Arab’s hard shoulder. Furious he felt Rashad’s firm grip on his buttock. Memories when the rebel had fucked him came to his mind. Faggot! Never again! Struggling to keep his head up, the Corporal gazed into the night towards the sounds of the ongoing fight between the squad and the surprised rebels, hoping some Marine would spot Rashad carrying him.

But it was in vain. The rebel leader made it unseen to a corral and threw his protesting captive on the back of a donkey. He mounted another animal and soon the darkness of the night had swallowed both the willing and the unwilling fugitive, who was howling his frustration into his gag.

Rashad’s battle sharpened instincts told him that he was no longer safe in Iraq. The nurse would tell the whole story and the Americans would start a relentless search for his whereabouts, assuming he would know about the fate of Al-Dowary.

He avoided any city or settlement and used hidden trails to reach the Northern border and crossed into Turkey. Although he had allowed the Corporal to mount the donkey instead of being carried disgraceful like a sack of potatoes, throughout the ride he did not ever remove the cuffs.

Whenever they made camp the Marine hobbled away on shackled feet, keeping a purposeful distance from his captor and shot hateful glances.

The Arab knew that the young Corporal was constantly looking for an opportunity to escape and was equally determined not to let this happen. Hunger had finally mellowed Tanker’s defiance and one evening when Rashad risked to light a camp fire, the smell of roasted rabbit had drawn him to his hated foe. Rashad had heard his captive rise and when a pair of dirty naked feet appeared next to the fireplace he knew he had won his first victory over Marine stubbornness.

The cuffed American was glaring down at him. He was silent but his face was a telling story about the fight that was going on inside of him.

“Sit!”, Rashad invited his “guest”.

He broke a piece of meat from the simmering carcass and motioned to the Marine to open his mouth.

“No!,” Tanker protested, resolved not to be fed like a baby.

“Eat!” Rashad ordered. His jet-black eyes were locking in the Marine’s blue eyes.

“Fuck you!” Tanker cursed.

Rashad bend over and grabbing the back of his reluctant captive’s head forced the meat between the protesting lips. He smelled the sour odor of the Marine’s sweaty, unwashed body, however, he knew that he did not smell any better.

The taste of the meat quickly overpowered Tanker’s resistance and he started munching away.

“You like my food?” Rashad asked almost friendly.

Tanker stared into the flames.

Rashad grinned and put a waterskin at the Corporal’s lips.

“Drink or I pinch your nose!” the Iraqi threatened.

Bastard! Tanker couldn’t recall that he ever hated a man as much as this one. Knowing he had no alternative, his lips parted. He drank in huge gulps, but then turned his head demonstratively away.

“We have shared food and water. Now we are brothers.” Rashad said.

Tanker gave him a shocked look and rose with rattling shackles. Rashad grinned after the American who moved away to his resting place in the far corner of the camp. The Corporal didn’t say a word, even when Rashad checked his cuffs for the night. “Fuck you, brother”, he thought, “I swear I’ll get you for this.”

The next morning, when Rashad packed the few things they had, the Marine instantly got up. He looked in obvious predicament at the rebel leader.

“What?” Rashad asked.

“I ... I,” Tanker blushed,”I need to piss.”

“Hmm, well ...” Rashad reached for Tanker’s fly.

“Fuck you, no way!” Tanker recoiled back,”Come on man, uncuff me, I promise I won’t run.”

“The cuffs stay where they are, brother,” Rashad smirked,” now don’t behave like a virgin in the wedding night and let’s do this, or do you want to wet your pants? Not that it would matter, stinking as you do.”

“Well you don’t smell like a violet either, rag-head!” a blushing Tanker retorted when Rashad unzipped him. He closed his eyes in embarrassed agony when the Iraqi pulled him out and held him while he did his business.

“Hm, that wasn’t so bad, was it,” Rashad said. He held the flaccid but hefty dick for a moment in his hand and then started to tuck the Marine back in.

“Wait,” came the soft voice from his captive. He looked up and saw that The Marine’s face had turned into a dark crimson color.

“I ... uhm ... I am n-not finished,” Tanker blurted out.

“Oh, I see,” with unhidden glee, Rashad opened the button of the waistband and pulled the camos down to the ankles.

“You must be kiddin’,” Tanker pleaded, “Please man, don’t make me do this.” The humiliation forced his cock to shrink almost to the size of a hazelnut.

“Ah, you are such a sissy!” Rashad moved behind the frustrated Marine grabbed his shoulders and forced him to squat.

“Oh fuck, oh shit! This is not happening,” the Corporal groaned. His calves trembled and he grunted in despair, reluctantly leaning into the Arab’s steadying embrace. When he was done Rashad made him bend over and cleaned him up with a handful of leaves that he had ripped from a bush. He pulled the camos up and buttoned the furiously trembling Marine up.

“You motherfucker, I swear you will die for this ...” Tanker muttered.

“Ah, what harsh words! Come on take it easy, Amriki; that’s what big brothers are for, isn’t it?,” Rashad gave Tanker a joyful slap on his shoulder.

“I ain’t your brother, you sick fuck! Don’t call me that ever again!” Tanker shouted.

Rashad just looked at him: “Fruits for breakfast?” he asked, leaving the fuming Marine speechless.

During the weeks Tanker got used to being fed and “helped” although his antics and the flood of expletives did not subside.

Both men had grown thick beards by now and they stank like the animals they were riding. Finally when they reached a small pond that was hidden by dense bushes, Rashad decided it was time for a bath. He shed his clothes and jumped into the refreshing water. Rashad had inherited the dark complexion of his race. Tanker watched the glistening pearls streaming of the muscular body, while the Iraqi was lathering himself with olive soap. “You are a tough one,” he thought ,”I have to give you that.”

“Now it’s your turn!” with a by now well-trained move Rashad unbuttoned the Marine and pulled his pants down. Tanker waited that his hands would finally come free, but Rashad surprised him and ripped what had remained of the T-Shirt from the broad shoulders.

“Hey!” Tanker protested.

“You know the drill by now, brother,” Rashad laughed,”let’s clean you up!”

“Oh come on, you can’t do that ... No! Shit! Ahhrgh!” the struggling, ranting Corporal was pushed into the pond.

“Isn’t that just fine?” Rashad laughed while he was lathering the cursing Marine from head to toe. The expletives reached a climax when he thoroughly cleansed the ass crack, the balls and the dangling cock.

“Stop making such a fuss,” Rashad still laughed,”I have seen it all, I have touched it all and I had you already, remember?”

That was for the first time that Rashad brought up what had happened at the Basra Hospital.

“Motherfuckin’ faggot!” boiling fury overwhelmed the Marine. “I know, why you like all this touching and fondling so much, donkey-fucker. But I am straight! I am a man! I am a US Marine! Do you understand that? I will never be like you. I ain’t your brother and I ain’t queer! Get your fucking hands of my butt and use the fuckin’ mule!

“But you seemed to enjoy it very much, as far as I remember. Come on let me give you some relief,” Rashad played with the writhing Marine’s dick.”You must be loaded over your head after all these weeks.”

“Hands off. shitface! No way!,” Tanker was screaming now, “you tricked me. It meant nothing!”

He managed to wriggle from Rashad’s grip and stumbled to the bank. A moment later Rashad was all over him. Tanker slammed face-down in the mud.

“It meant nothing, huh?” Rashad panted.

“Nothing! What, what are you doing? ... No don’t!”

Rashad seized the Corporal’s hips and buried his face in between the pale white orbs.

“Uhhh! Nooo!” Tanker howled trying to get away despite his cuffed hands. He felt Rashad’s tongue pressing against his asshole and tried to press it tight.

Rashad’s tall body moved over the prone Marine who froze when he felt the hardness of the Arab’s cock poking at his chute. Strong hands reached around his chest and caressed his nipples. Between playful licks and nibbling at his earlobes Tanker heard Rashad’s husky voice.

“I could take you now, as I could have taken you all the time, brother. But I won’t and do you know why? Because you will come to me on your own and you will beg me to make you my woman!”

“Never! That ain’t going to happen ever, you motherfuckin’ bastard,” Tanker yelled and finally broke free. Furiously cursing he crawled up the shore and managed to get up on his feet. He turned around and looked in rage and horror at the grinning rebel leader who stood naked in all his glory with a raging boner.

“Never ever in your fuckin’ life will I beg you ! You are a mad sick queer sonofabitch!” he hollered.

“We will see to that brother!” Rashad replied calmly,”at least for now you seemed to have enjoyed it.”

“Huh!?”

Rashad pointed with a nod of his head to Tanker’s lap. When the startled young man looked down he froze again realizing his body’s betrayal. His dick had grown into a throbbing erection.

The tanned arms made a nice contrast to the otherwise pale body. The mud that was smeared now all over the American strangely emphasized the firm, sculpted pecs and the chiseled six-pack.

It was a meekly gazing, silent Marine that allowed Rashad to trim his beard and to help him back in his pants.

The next morning greeted with sunshine but strong bursts of cold winds. Harbinger of the approaching winter.

Ahead of them lay a seemingly endless patchwork of jagged snow-splotched mountains. Dominating them all was a towering mountain giant shrouded in clouds.

“Do you know, Mount Ararat, Amriki? Armenian monks considered the mountain to be holy and no one was allowed to climb it. It is said that Noah stranded here after the Flood; the fabled resting place of the Ark.” Rashad said.

“Why are you telling me this?” Tanker asked.

“Because this is, where we are going now, brother,” Rashad grinned.

A torturous and stony path lay ahead of them that soon became so steep that they had no choice but to abandon their faithful donkeys. Rashad just took a heavy woolen blanket and pushed the Marine ahead on the trail.

Despite the cold wind Tanker’s naked torso was soon covered with a layer of sweat. Again and again the rebel leader had to steady the stumbling bare-footed Corporal on their way uphill and the wind grew stronger. Severe cold was biting through the layers of skin that had kept him warm and in the afternoon even the exertion couldn’t keep the weakening Marine warm any longer. His feet were a bloody mess and every muscle in his body was hurting.

At sunset they reached a narrow cliff that was leading into a small cave, barely big enough to give room to two men. Frozen stiff, Tanker watched as Rashad spread the blanket on the rocky ground, pulled it over his shoulders and motioned invitingly to the shivering Marine.

“N-never ...” Tanker stuttered and let himself down as far away from the Arab as he could. This, however, meant he was exposed to the wind that now even brought some drops of rain that hit his freezing body like tiny sharp needles. The rebel leader shrugged. He did not even put the shackles on the American, knowing that they were not needed. He wrapped himself into the blanket and dozed away.

It was about midnight when Rashad woke up. A shivering, ice-cold body was huddling under the blanket. Tanker turned his back to the Arab and went into a fetal position.

Rashad wrapped his strong arms with the blanket around the Corporal’s chest, spooning the hunky quivering body with his warm frame.

“I am a real man! I ain’t a fuckin’ fruitfly! I fuck chicks’n whores! I am not queer.! I am a United States Marine and my Sarge will come for me. You’ll see, you’ll see! We never leave one behind!” a shivering Tanker stammered barely audible. ”You can force me but I will never like it ... never...”

With his chin on the younger man’s shoulder Rashad let his finger tips play with the Marine’s man tits. Despite being cold he felt the meaty knobs responding and growing. His own dick hardened and he pressed it into the palms of the cuffed hands.

Too tired to move away, Tanker felt the hardness of the rod through the fabric. Slowly the heat emanating from the strong body behind him was warming up his battered own one. With a frustrated groan he gave in to the coziness and indulged in the moment of rare intimacy and did give a damn that it was his hated foe cuddling with him.

Rashad gently reached down to the Tanker’s crotch feeling the already semi-erect dick with a possessive grip. The thumb of his other hand found his way inside the mouth silencing the muttering. While the worn-out Marine started sucking his thumb Rashad kept kneading his crotch. To his surprise he felt fingers gently fondling his own erection as well.

“Mmmhh ... oh yeah, brother ... that feels goood,” he inhaled the manly smell of the thawing Marine and snuggled closer into the muscular frame. Soon, however, exhaustion overcame him as well and he gave in to his body’s urge to fall asleep.

“You’ll see he will come for me ...” the Marine’s words echoed in his mind, ”We never leave one behind”. The embracing sleep brought the mental image of a huge attractive man with a narrow line of reddish hair ascending across the chiseled six pack abs. The heavy muscled pectorals, as well covered with red-brown fur ... mouth and nose of the rugged face were covered with an anesthetic mask. His last impression was the look of disbelief and horror in the eyes of the big American who realized that he had been bested. Why can’t I get you out of my mind, Al-Dowary?

While both men were drifting away into sleep their bodies following primal instincts fell into a slow sensuous rocking motion, soon moving in perfect sync.

Tanker woke up in the morning, warm and cozy. The Arab’s warm breath was on his neck and he was held in a firm embrace. A strange, moist stickiness in his crotch was the only irritating feeling, but then it dawned to him what had happened.

“Fuck!” the Marine wriggled free from Rashad’s arms and struggled out from under the blanket.

Instantly the cold air was biting into his bare shoulders.

“What’s wrong with you, brother?” Rashad asked innocently, however, the sparkling in his dark eyes belied that instantly. He had shot his load as well and felt the relaxation of a predator that had just digested its prey.

“Fuck you! Bastard!” Tanker ranted but his anger was short-lived because his bladder forced him to submit soon to the humiliating ‘morning service’ Rashad was rendering since weeks. After the dreadful embarrassment was done with antics, pleads and sheepish muttering Rashad pushed his captive back on the trail. The young man was wondering where they were heading to, however, Rashad had refused reveal their destination.

It was in the late afternoon, when Tanker’s body finally gave in to exhaustion. They had reached the snow line and bare-chested as he was the coldness had penetrated the core of his body. The pain of his bloodied bare feet had become unbearable. Cold and pain was sapping his stamina and with a helpless groan of frustration he tumbled face-down in the snow.

“My, my …”, he heard the rebel leader’s mocking,” So - this is a strong United States Marine, huh? The most feared and most powerful warrior in this world? Why is it that I am just seeing a pathetic, mud-hugging weakling?”

“Fuck ya’!” Tanker sobbed.

“It might come to that, indeed,” the Iraqi said quizzically,” but right now it might rather be me who would be fucking you, right? His hand fell heavy on the prone Marine’s butt. A finger was playfully probing through the wet fabric.

“Nooo!” summoning all his remaining strength Tanker struggled up to his feet.

“Impressive!” Rashad raised his eyebrows.”Let’s go Marine! It is not far now …”

At least Rashad showed mercy and removed the shackles, which made it easier to climb the steep trail.

Just before nightfall they crossed a small pine tree forest and walked alongside a vast slope, when it happened.

“What the …? Y-you can’t be serious!”

Amazed what had just come into sight, Tanker’s jaw dropped. Almost entirely covered by thick layers of snow and ice the petrified bow of a huge ship rose from the center of the slope.

Rashad walked straight to the place where the bottom of the vessel emerged from the rocky ground. He took a small device, similar to a ball pen, from his pocket and pushed a button. There was a click and a small flap opened, giving access to a keypad. Rashad entered a code and with a hum a door opened in front of the two men. Without looking back the rebel leader entered with the flabbergasted Marine stumbling behind.

The door closed and fluorescent bulbs illuminated the narrow aisle they had just entered. Warm air was streaming across Tanker’s naked chest.

The aisle led to a large oval-shaped room that looked like the control center of an airport tower. Monitors were lightening up and radar screens came to life when the men entered.

“What is this place?” Tanker asked in awe.

“It was discovered about many years ago already. Since 8 years our Asian friends installed a state-of-the-art spy center,” Rashad reported casually while checking on one of the radar screens. “From these terminals I can monitor the surroundings and I have access to the computer centers of NATO in Turkey. They never knew that their firewalls had been breached,” Rashad chuckled.

“But, but this … is not … uhm … cannot be …?”

“… Noah’s ark?” Rashad completed. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out, but first let’s get those cuffs off and have you cleaned up. You are a mess, brother.”

For the first time in weeks, the Marine did not only have a shower, it was as well for the first time that he could piss and shit without the unwanted, humiliating assistance by his captor.

Rashad watched the monitor displaying the American lathering his brawny body. Soapy streams of water were rinsing down the broad tattooed shoulders. Well-rounded pecs and rippled abs were glistening wet, while hands were rubbing the crack between the melon-shaped orbs of the sexy firm butt.

The rebel commander grinned when the slippery hands returned again and again to the long flaccid dick and the low-hanging balls. The lathering focused a bit on the nipples but quickly the hands closed around the hardening manhood. Fingering his ass and stroking his erect cock, the Marine’s body was soon bucking back and forth. The muscular legs cramped in a wide stance, feet struggling for hold on the slippery tiles. Hot water splashed over his contorted face, filled his gaping mouth when he threw his head back in the moment of an obviously mind-shattering climax. The shaking, lust-pumped, muscular body slumped against the tiled wall while strings of white cum gushed from the angry-red, mangled dick head.

“What a waste, brother …” Rashad smirked.

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