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Tuesday, 17 September 2013

TAM on vacation

Me and my partner Mel are off to Mallorca in a couple of hours. We return on 1st October. There will be no activity while we are away but I'll finish posting The Bridge as soon as I return.

Best Wishes

Sunday, 15 September 2013

Thw Bridge Page 7

Page 7
     "When you two have stopped kissing and cuddling, I'd like to remind you that you are still on duty and are supposed to be guarding the khaki." At the sound of the man's voice, the two young men
sprung apart guiltily The man guessed that this was the first time that either had kissed another man and, hiding a smile as he looked at their jutting jocks said, "Now get this soldier back to his tent before I'm tempted to give him another one."  North cursed inwardly as he was led away. He'd missed his chance to escape and he would have a very sore arse tomorrow. But, he'd had three cocks up him and had been fucked nearly to oblivion. Not a completely wasted night. When he stepped into the tent, he had another surprise. Birch was asleep with his blond head on Flint's hairy chest and the sergeant's muscular arm was curled around him.

     Next morning the soldiers made no mention of the night's events and they sluiced themselves in the bucket of water provided and dressed in silence. They were given hunks of brown bread and water then, under guard, ordered to take down and stow their tent. Jeppe appeared and bound their wrists. He was outwardly unchanged by his nocturnal adventures but North detected a new assertiveness and  self-awareness about him. He even surreptitiously groped North while he tied him  Amid the bustle North caught a glimpse of his roman statue. Dressed in daylight he was just as impressive and the bulge at his groin awesome.

     The column rode two abreast as before. The three soldiers and Jeppe towards the front and Kotze and his men brought up the rear. Flint glanced at Birch, riding beside him and the blond trooper, not
ready yet to meet his gaze, kept his eyes on the back of the rider in front of him. Flint was very fond of the lad, far more that he was ready to admit to himself and he flushed as he recalled what had happened in the night. He should have stopped it at once by flicking away the hand that had rested so lightly on his thigh. But he hadn't. Instead he'd given a deep sigh as if asleep and rolled onto his back.
The hand returned almost at once and had begun to move stealthily towards his groin. He'd started to get excited and it had been an effort to keep his breathing deep and even. What had been the matter with him, lying there and silently urging another man to touch him?  His cock had pounded to a full aching erection and his balls had pulled up against his thick shaft. When finally Birch's fingers had
brushed against them, Flint had been unable to suppress a gasp. Alarmed the youngster had tried to withdraw his hand but Flint had grabbed it and pressed in down on to his cock. They had lain very still for what seemd ages before he'd released Birch's hand and felt the fingers trying to close around
his cock.  Birch had long fingers but could hardly encircle more than half of Flint's thick shaft. It was unlikely there were any who could. But Birch gripped the cock hard and pumped it roughly. Flint had
known that he was very close and had whispered,"Easy lad, I'm nearly there. Slow down a bit.! In response Birch had slid his thumb and first finger up and down Flint's moist smooth glans, drawing his foreskin down to the flange with each stroke. Flint felt himself hardening as he recalled the
exquisite sensation when the pressure in his balls had become undeniable. He'd blurted, "Now lad hard, as hard as you like." and Birch had tightened his grip and pumped him very hard. He'd clenched his teeth to stifle a scream and exploded. Great gouts of spunk had shot into the air before spattering his face, chest and belly.

     They rode on in silence and this time, when he glanced at Birch, he was rewarded with a faint smile. He turned his thoughts back to the night's events. As he'd sprawled on his back, covered in his own spunk, Birch had slowly lowered his head. Flint was unable to see Birch's expression as he had been silhouetted against the moonlit canvas and for a moment had thought that the young trooper was going to kiss him. But Birch began to lick off the spunk, first, from his forhead, then his cheeks and he'd recalled the shiver of excitement when the youngster's lips had brushed his mouth. He'd  moaned softly and his cock had began to throb when he'd felt Birch's tongue lick the spunk from the sweat-slicked hair on his chest and belly. Nearer and nearer the lips had come and he'd begun to sweat and his heart had pounded in his ears. And then, when Birch had buried his nose in Flint's thick public hair and he'd felt the stubble-roughened cheek brush against his rigid cock his body had stiffened. It had been a long tense moment before Birch had raised his head and he'd felt, for the first time, a man's lips encircle his glans. He'd resisted the urge to grab the head and force it down onto his cock and he'd heard himself moaning as the moist warm lips had slid up and down his shaft. It hadn't been
long before he'd exploded again, his spunk coming in long squirts to match the spasms that had wracked him.
                                                        Chapter 3

     Tworivers was a busy dorp on the confluence of two sluggish brown rivers. The moderately prosperous farms and homesteads clustered around it's white painted kirk and it had a town square
and a high street of sorts, down which the column of men rode. They halted before a large house and the commander dismounted, to be greeted by the town worthies then they had trotted on over a

Wednesday, 11 September 2013

The Bridge page 6

page 6
"I knew you were up to something and decided to find out just what it was. I'm very glad that I did."
"What are you going to do?" Jeppe snapped nervously. "Well you are going to get back on your knees and make amends to the khaki and I, given that he will be kind enough to adopt his former position, intend to give him a bloody good seeing-off."

     "The expression is 'seeing to.' North replied with a smile, then continued, "I will be happy to oblige sir, if you would be so kind as to show yourself."
"But of course," the man said and turned so that he was bathed in moonlight. In his forties, North guessed, looking at the rugged bearded face. Then as he ran his eyes over the hard muscular body, he was reminded of a heroic roman statue.  The moonlight gave the massive muscles the appearance of white marble. The cock was as hard as  marble too, a good thick nine inches with a huge gleaming glans, reminiscent of the Sergeant Flint's. North felt a shiver of excitement. "Satisfactory I trust." the man said.
"Quite," North quipped, bent forward and braced himself as before. Jeppe got in position, kneeling between  him and the tree and North moaned softly as a warm mouth closed over his glans. A moment later he felt the man's calloused hands stroking his buttocks and he tensed involuntarily.
"Easy man, make it easy for yourself, the man murmured as his rough hands prised North's cheeks apart and he began to sweat. The huge cock-head pressed against him and he shifted slightly to centre it. The man pressed forward and North felt the pressure on his sphincter increase. He was rigid with fear and sweat dripped off him. "Oh God, no I can't I..." he blurted, then gasped with pain as the tight ring of muscle gave way and the big glans bored into him. The man paused, shunted back a little then slammed his cock into North, up to his balls. For a moment there was another  even more intense stab of pain and then he was left with the glorious sensation of being filled with hard pulsating cock. He gave a deep moan that seemed to come for his boots and he heard the man chuckle.

       Pulling back, very gently this time, the man began to fuck the corporal with deep piston-like thrusts. As they grew harder and faster North pushed back to meet them, flexing his sphincter
muscles. He now became aware of Jeppe's moist warm mouth and felt his balls beginning to tighten. The man changed the pitch of his thrusts, corkscrewing them so that the enormous glans jabbed North's prostate and he felt it rearranging his guts. Waves of sexual heat welled up, hot and excruciating, as the remorseless pounding continued. The sensations grew steadily stronger and hotter, and what little control North had left was about to be lost. Sensing how near the soldier was, the man, without breaking his rhythm, again changed the angle of his thrusts. He now pulled back each time to the tip and slammed the whole length of his cock up into North's battered channel. He knew the pain would slow the soldier down but not for long. His own explosion drew close and he
slammed his cock into North so hard, each thrust lifted the soldier up onto his toes.

     Marcel had his cock out and was pumping furiously as he watched  the end of the titanic fuck.
Both men were snorting and grunting like animals and even if they woke the whole camp, nothing would stop them now. The soldier was the first to come. Great gut-wrenching spasms wracked him as he fired, first into Jeppe's mouth and then into his face as the boer, choking, pulled back.  The man exploded a second or two later. He held in hard, head thrown back, and roared like a bull. Marcel's
own spunk flew, spattering the grass and he slumped to the ground, his role as guard momentarily forgotten. Jeppe crawled out from under the still doubled-over corporal and staggering over to Marcel, flung himself down beside him.  "My God," he whispered "I don't think I could take a fucking like that."
"Me neither, but I'm sure as hell going to try one day," said Jeppe, his mouth still full of the soldier's salty spunk. Marcel turned to look at him and saw the glutinous white fluid oozing from the sides of his mouth. "What does it taste like?" he whispered. "This," Jeppe replied and brought his mouth down over Marcel's parted lips.

The Bridge page 5

page 5
closed his lips over the oozing glans. But he only had a few seconds to savour the delicious salty taste before Marcel grabbed hold of his head and rammed his cock down his throat. North gagged as his face was pushed into the boer's thick bush of public hair. Marcel relished the feel of the choking
man's throat muscles constricting around the head of his cock for a few moments before he pulled back. But North had barely a chance to suck in some air before the boer began to fuck him roughly in the mouth. Each thrust went deeper unto his bruised throat as the boer's big balls slapped against his chin.

     Jeppe watched the brutal assault on the soldier with growing excitement. Then suddenly Marcel gave a grunt and Jeppe thought he was about to shoot his load into the kneeling man. But, no instead he pulled out his rigid cock, dripping with saliva and, stepping back, shoved the corporal backwards with his boot. North sprawled onto his back and Jeppe saw the huge pole jutting out from the soldier's muscular thighs. Marcel glared down at North for a moment then, turned his head to look at Jeppe.
"What's the matter with you man, you're supposed to be keeping the bastard covered?"
"Oh yes, sorry," Jeppe stammered, then added "Have you er... finished? Can I..?"
"But I..."
"The understanding was that I'd have him first. And I haven't even started yet." Jeppe said no more.
He did not know Marcel very well but what he was learning now he liked.

     Marcel turned his attention back to the naked soldier. "On your feet and get over to that tree ,"
he said, pointing to the trunk of a large stinkwood. North complied and Marcel continued,"Now bend
over, spread your legs and brace yourself." Knowing what was coming, North leaned over and very
carefully selected the spot on the rough bark that would give his  hands the best purchase and the angle that would provide the maximum support for his body. Marcel kicked North's boots even further apart and straightened up to admire the beautiful arse being offered to him.  Course thick hair, deep copper in colour, filled the crack, hiding the puckerhole but it grew finer and lighter as it fanned out over the hard round buttocks. The young boer reached between the spread legs and hefted the
big, low-swinging balls in the palm of his hand. Then he closed closed his fingers over them and
squeezed.  North gave a soft gasp and flexed his arse.  Marcel let the balls drop back into their hairy bag and ran his hands over the tensed cheeks. He savoured the feel the feel of the hard muscle under the smooth skin. He could wait no longer. He stepped forward, positioning his aching cock with a
trembling hand and pushed. North groaned. He'd been taken by much bigger men that this lad but
not for some time. He was very tight and Marcel slid his cock into him incredibly slowly. He groaned again, the pain was so exquisite and seemed to last for ever. But finally the boer's cock was right in and North gasped as it was pulled back sharply. Then Marcel fucked the corporal with short hard jabs
that hurt like hell. North braced himself and clenched his teeth. He didn't want the little bastard to
know how much pain he was causing  and ultimately how much pleasure he was giving. Marcel's
orgasm was soon in coming and he pulled out quickly still firing gobs of spunk over North's arse.
Without bothering to wipe himself, he shoved his still engorged cock into his tight trousers and
buttoned up. He picked up his gun and grinned at Jeppe. "Come on man, let's see what you've got."
As Jeppe pulled out his cock, Marcel murmured, "Not bad man, not bad at all." Not bad, be damned,
I'm bigger than you, Jeppe thought, as he stepped up to the corporal. Even in the moonlight he could see the viscous  thread of Marcel's spunk, hanging from North's arse.

     Jeppe slid easily into the corporal's now well lubricated fundament and fucked him with the same short thrusts that Marcel had used. But he was much bigger than Marcel and the sharp stabs made
North grunt with pain. His body was being jolted violently and his aching balls swung back and forth
between his wide spread thighs. The pounding went on for ten minutes or so before he finally heard the young boer beginning to grunt and his thrusts became faster, harder and more vicious.

     Marcel felt a flood of elation as he watched what he imagined to be the big muscular soldier's
subjugation by a handsome, virile young boer. He first saw the corporal's head tossed back, his teeth bared in a grimace of pain as he whimpered like a bady. Then he saw the soldier's head drop between his brawny arms in apparent submission, as Jeppe shot his load into his guts. But when the young boer gently pulled out, the allusion was shattered. The corporal straightened up grinning broadly, his stiff cock looking bigger than ever. Then Marcel was disappointed still further when Jeppe dropped to his knees and took the drooling shaft into his mouth. Clenching his right fist, Marcel stepped forward, intent on knocking the smile off the khaki's face, when a figure stepped out of the dark shadows into the bright moonlight. Marcel stood stock-still, then his look of amazement gave way to a smile as he recognized the newcomer.

     A voice at North's shoulder said, in heavily accented English, "I hope Jeppe, that you can
exhibit a higher degree of competence on that task than you did on the earlier one." North turned to face the man as Jeppe jumped to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. North could not see the newcomer's face as his back was towards the moon, but he knew the voice. It was the sentry with whom Jeppe had joked earlier. He was taller than North, broader across the shoulders and appeared to be quite naked. Jeppe recovered his voice and hissed in Afrikaans, "What are you doing
here? What do you want?"  Still speaking in his sing-song English, the man replied 

Tuesday, 10 September 2013

Bridge page 4

Page 4
Jeppe turned his flushed face to see another young boer, called Marcel, standing at his shoulder, gun in hands. "Go and eat Jeppe, while its still hot. I'll bring the Khakis over, they've nearly finished."
Marcel was looking past him at the soldiers as he spoke, and Jeppe saw his brown eyes widen. From their angle Jeppe guessed what Marcel was staring at and resisted the impulse to turn around and follow his gaze. "Thanks I'm starving," he said, his voice sounding husky. Marcel made no reply but
continued to stare past him at the soldiers and Jeppe glanced down surreptitiously at the young man's groin. Marcel's big bulge was showing even more promise than usual, he thought and, smiling to himself, he moved away.

     Sitting cross-legged on the grass, Jeppe shovelled food into his mouth. He felt very pleased with
himself. He'd found a kindred spirit, possibly an ally and maybe more.  He must have a word with
Marcel before lights-out, he thought and then looked us at the murmur of voices around him
suddenly ceased. Marcel was leading the prisoners towards the cooking fires. Only after the
soldiers had each been given a grudging portion of stew and they'd been herded back to their tent did
the conversation resume. Jeppe pulled out his watch. Four hours before he was on guard duty, time to see Marcel and thenm get some sleep.

Chapter 2

     Corporal North lay on his back and watched the shadow of the pacing sentry pass across the
brightly moonlit canvas above his head. He guessed that about two hours had elapsed since they had been told to strip. Then they had been ordered into their tent and the entrance laced up. He sat up and glanced at his sleeping companions. Flint lay with his back towards him, snoring gently while Birch was sprawled on his back. Normally the sight of the youngster's thick shaft laying across his hairy belly would have had North's undivided attention, but not tonight. He knew somehow that he would get a signal and he hoped that he would make the correct response. He just might have a chance to
escape. The shadow passed again and laying back with a sigh, he cupped his aching balls in his hands.

     Suddenly he heard voices and he sat up, listening intently. They were speaking softly in Afrikaans,
"You're early man, couldn't you sleep?"
"Ja but an old man like you needs more sleep than me."
"Cheeky bastard, I can fuck all night and still do a day's work."
"Then you must have a brood-mare on your farm. As sure as hell, you can't have had a women for
over a year," There was the sound of a blow followed by a burst of laughter "What I fuck is my
business young man. You'd better be careful I don't come knocking on your backdoor some dark
night." More laughter. "Let's check the prisoners and you can be on your way."
"Why do you want to check the prisoners?"
"I don't want to stand here all night guarding a tent that could be empty for all I know."
"All right, come on then." The entrance was unlaced and a man leaned in through the opening. North saw that it was Jeppe with a wide grin on his handsome face. "Any of you men want to use the latrines?" North grinned back as his companions slept on. Jeppe lifted one palm and made a
circular motion with the forefinger of his other hand which he then raised. Understanding, North nodded and Jeppe quickly withdrew his head and closed the tent.
"Well if you're satisfied I'm off to bed."
"Fine. Goodnight, or should I say good fucking," Jeppe said.

     North tossed and turned in an agony of impatience and his balls ached abominably. When he
could wait no longer, he pulled on his boots and called to the passing sentry. "Let me out Dutchman.
I need to shit badly." He heard Jeppe curse, and a moment later the flap was opened and bright moonlight streamed in. North glanced back at the sleeping soldiers.  Birch had not moved but
Flint had rolled onto his back and, although his big hairy hand rested on his groin, his enormous glans could be seen gleaming in the moonlight. North stepped out and stood naked and erect before Jeppe,
who had his rifle aimed at his belly.  No longer shy, Jeppe let his eyes roam slowly over the body of the naked muscular man he had in this power. Then North noticed, they were not alone.

     Another boer lounged nonchalantly again a nearby tree, kneading his groin. He was a sturdy young man and like most boers wore a full beard. "Are we going to stand here all night while you ogle that khaki's fucking cock?" he said and reached for his rifle, which was propped against the tree beside him. "For Christ's sake, keep your voice down Marcel," Jeppe whispered. He then turned to North and, nodding in the direction of the latrines said, "Forward," in English. They still have'nt realized that I speak Afrikaans North thought. He stepped forward and felt the cold muzzle of Jeppe rifle pressed between his shoulder-blades. That could be handy.

     The passed the latrine trenches, crudely screened with pieces of tent-canvas and stepped in between some stunted trees and clumps of thick thorny scrub. Although the trenches, a few feet away were freshly dug, they already exuded a powerful stench of stale male piss. It was a smell that North had always found virile and exciting and he inhaled deeply. Marcel stepped close and spat in North's face. "Like it do you, the smell of manly boer piss, you fucking khaki pansy? North nodded. "Well,
I've got something you'll like even better.On your knees." With spit dripping from his moustache and chin, North dropped to his knees. Marcel moved closer, his groin only inches from North's face and
undid his fly button with trembling fingers. His thick cut cock sprung free and as he eased out his big balls, North got a strong whiff of Marcel's manly odour. Saliva flooded into North's mouth and he

Monday, 9 September 2013

Bridge page 3

Page 3
     As he watched the bound soldiers being helped into their saddles, the commander happened to glance at Kotze standing beside him.The man's eyes were fixed upon the blond young trooper and
the commander caught the glint of lust. Looking around the group of boers, he saw the same look on several faces. Two big hard-faced men were openly aroused and the commander saw one turn and whisper something to his companion, who smirked and dropped a hairy hand to his bulging groin. It was not uncommon, the commander knew, when you had a group of tough virile men thrown together like this, but the fact that these two were Kotze's cronies made him feel a little uneasy. Pushing the thought aside he shouted, "All right men, saddle up and let's get moving. I want to be
half way to Tworivers before we make camp. And you Jeppe, ride with the prisoners and keep an eye on them."

    The sun was well down before the commander called a halt and the men made camp. Sergeant Flint watched the organized bustle with an expert eye. The commander had twenty men under his direct command and the big brute Kotze had four in his charge. An uneasy alliance, Flint thought, as he and his still bound fellow prisoners stood, for the moment, seemingly forgotten. Then the commander, with young Jeppe at his heel, marched towards them. "I'll have you unbound if you and your men give me your word that you will not attempt to escape." Flint shook his head, "I'm afraid that will not be possible sir."
"As I expected. Very well, you will be bound at all times when not under armed supervision." As Flint nodded ackowledgement, the commander turned to Jeppe, "See that these men dig the latrine trenches before they set up their tent." The commander turned on his heel and Jeppe pointed to the horse lines, "Come."  The prisoners wrists were untied and with shovels in hand they were marched some way back from the camp by the now armed Jeppe. With much gesturing to augment his limited English, the young boer indicated how the trenches were to be dug. Then  he snapped, "Strip shirts."
and with growing excitement he watched the soldiers comply. The sergeant's shoulders  and arms were massive and his hairy pecs big hard slabs of muscle. Jeppe's eyes dropped  to the heavy bulge between the huge thighs and his mouth went dry and his hands began to tremble. Taking a firmer grip on the shaking gun, he switched his gaze to the red-headed corporal who seemed dwarfed by his big barrel-chested companions. His torso was lean, the tight hard muscles clearly defined under the smooth tanned skin. He noted the red-gold hair covering the taut belly as he slowly lowered his gaze
to the main's groin. Jeppe's mouth nearly dropped open. The soldier was fully erected, his big glans thrusting out against the damp constricting khaki. For a long moment he could only stare, then he looked up into the corporal's face, aware that his own cock was tenting the front of his trousers in similar fashion. The soldier's eyes held his and a faint smile twitched his lips under the chestnut  moustache. Taking a deep breath, Jeppe yelled, "Now dig, you bastards, dig."

     The ground was hard and stony and the three soldiers were soon sweating. Jeppe's eyes roamed over the young blond trooper's gleaming body, before coming to rest on his beautiful arse. The damp khaki clung to the big full-rounded cheeks and was dark with sweat where it cut into his crack.
Feeling a surge of excitement, he pulled his eyes away only to have them alight again on the sergeant's groin. Whereas before he'd only been aware of the sheer mass of the load between  the   soldier's legs, now the sodden material revealed the enormous glans. Its as big as a bloody peach Jeppe thought, as he moaned inwardly. It was several long moments before he could turn his attention again to the corporal and his rampant cock. Excitement twisted in his guts and colour flooded his cheeks as he lifted his gaze to meet those incredibly blue eyes. For a long moment their eyes locked before the corporal turned, affording Jeppe a view of his gleaming, rippling back muscles.  As the
sweating soldiers continued to dig, he gradually got himself under control. His hands stopped trembling but the tightness in his belly did'nt ease and his balls began to ache. Then he started violently as a voice behind him said, "I'll keep an eye on these bastards, you go and get some food."

Sunday, 8 September 2013

Bridge page 2

page 2

He tried to get up  but the world swayed alarmingly and he thought better of it. The young boer
reached across and handed him the canteen of water. The corporal took a few sips and managed
to get to his feet. His companions joined him and the three soldiers stared, pale faced, at the grim
scene before them.

     The big man strode towards them and his eyes swept over the soldiers  as he addressed the commander in Afrikaans, "Eleven dead and we have seven of their horses. Want me to strip these three and shoot 'em?"
"Certainly not," snapped the commander. "They are prisoners of war and will be treated as such."
"But sir, they..."
"Understood, Kotze?" The big man stared down at the commander open-mouthed. "Have their wrists bound and get them mounted." Kotze turned towards the prisoners and the commander snapped again, "Not you, you big oaf." He then nodded towards the boer who had brought the water. "See to it, Jeppe." As the young man complied, the commander pulled a small notebook and pencil from his
shirt pocket and addressed the soldiers in English. "Your names and numbers please, gentlemen."

The sergeant aswered first. "Sergeant Robert Flint, number 546841, sir. The commander looked up at the big man's rugged bearded face. His bullet head was shaven and his tight dark beard was flecked with grey. He was as tall as Kotze and had the same massive shoulders. A mass of thick dark hair  showed at the open neck of his khaki shirt and covered his muscular forearms.

The commnder turned next to the smallest soldier. "Corporal Allan North, number 342182 sir," he
said in his deep voice. He was medium height and his cropped hair and cavalry moustache were the colour of old mahogany. Lean, hard muscles moved under the smooth skin on his bare arms and the vivid blue eyes in his narrow face glared defiantly.

The young blond soldier was the last to answer. "Trooper Charles Birch, 486921 sir." He was wide-shouldered and big-framed and the commander, nearly as tall the big sergeant.

The Bridge

     The sound of gunfire suddenly ceased but the horses that had not bolted still pranced or milled about, neighing in terror. The khaki figures lay still, sprawled or huddled in the red sand, as the clouds of dust that had been thrown up by the grenades began to slowly thin. The armed commandos
emerged from the shelter of the tumbled rocks on each side of the kloor and cautiously approached the fallen soldiers.

     A huge bald-headed man, with a barrel-chest and massive shoulders shouted, "Shoot any that are still alive and don't use your bayonets because I want to strip off any uniforms that are not covered in blood and guts." The older man beside him glanced up with a look of distate, before he called for  a couple of men to round up the horses and collect the discarded weapons. Then he watched the big man and the other commandos strip the dead soldiers. The Boer forces were desparately short of uniforms and other basic clothing. Suddenly he heard a groan and spun round, gun raised.

     Three men lay together among the rocks, a khaki tangle of limbs. The big man straightened up and took a step towards them before the commander shouted, It's all right Kotze, I'll take care of this.
You carry on." For a second he thought that Kotze would disobey him, but after a moment's hesitation
the big man carried on rifling through the pockets of a pair of khaki breeches.

The soldier groaned again. He lay half across the body of another man wearing corporal's stripes. He was blond, in his early twenties, the commander guessed, and wore the ubiquitous cavalry moustache. Sprawled on top of him was a very large soldier with the stripes of a sergeant on his arms,
and it seemed to the commander that he'd been shielding the younger man with his body. The commander lifted the sergeant off the blond trooper and lowered him gently on to his back. He placed his hand on the side of the sergeant's bull-neck and his eyes flickered open. "Quickly someone, bring me some water," he shouted.

     As he waited for the water, the commander ran his eyes over the powerful muscular body. There
were no bullet wounds and it seemed, from the cuts and bruises, that he must have caught the blast of a grenade. A young boer appeared beside him and the commander lifted the sergeant into a sitting position before pressiong the canteen of water to his lips. The vacant look faded from the sergeant's black eyes and pushing the canteen away, he said in a voice little more than a croak. "Thanks I'm all right now, how's the lad?" They turned to the blond trooper who was now sitting up with his head
hanging between his raised knees. He straightened up and said, "A bit dizzy sarge and my ears are
still ringing."
"My God, so are mine," said a deep voice behind him the third soldier, the lean corporal sat up.

Tales of the Veldt

I wrote four stories that are set in South Africa during the Boer War. A time when the country swarmed with tough virile men locked in mortal combat. A time when women were rarer
than hens' teeth. A time when men got their sex anyway they could.

They are quite long tales so I'll serialize them. I haven't forsaken my drawings and hope to get a new project 'Robin Hood' under weigh soon.

Please let me know what you think. I would really appreciate your comments.