The Scout Page 4

page 4

the fire. After what seemed ages, the rope parted and his hands were free. Quickly cutting the rope securing his neck, he turned just in time to see Sarel charge towards him. He was borne backwards and went down heavily on to his back with Sarel's hands around his throat. Grabbing the farmer's wrists, he tried desparately to prise them loose. He bucked and twisted, managing at last to partly roll Sarel off him but not breaking his grip on his throat. He smashed a fist into the farmer's face and felt the fingers loosen. Striking again and at the same time heaving sideways, he dislodged the lighter man. He pulled back Sarel's head and brought up his knee hard into his balls. The farmer roared with pain and his body went limp. Resisting the urge to drive his knee again into Sarel's groin, he straddled him instead. Then pinning the man's arms down with his knees, Piet punched him senseless.

The sky was quickly lightening as Piet climbed groggily to his feet and gazed down at the spread-eagled bare-chested farmer. He looked down at the bulging groin and although his cock stirred, anger blazed in him afresh. Casting around, he found the clasp-knife in the trampled grass but, knowing that he could not kill Sarel in cold blood, he closed it and bent to gather up his scattered clothes. Piet untethered his horse, checked his compass and left. He would check his possessions later as, for now, he was interested only in getting as far away from this debacle as possible. He would head for the farmstead, beg for some breakfast and see to his horse. Then he would head on east to Middleburg.

                                                         Chapter 3

The sun was rising in a blaze of gold as he turned onto the red dust track leading to the farm. Smoke spiralling from the chimney made Piet think of breakfast and his stomach groaned as he reined-in. He sat back in the saddle and carefully looked around. Everything seemed peaceful. Five horses were feeding in the paddock near the porch and he could see half a dozen cows grazing contentedly in the meadow behind the farm. He trotted his horse into the yard and, as he dismounted, a bare-chested man came out onto the porch. He was beefy with broad-shoulders and dark hair swirling over his barrel chest and belly. He wore only skintight brown trousers over riding boots. Piet eyed the well-displayed manhood, then lifted his gaze to meet the man's dark blue eyes as he mounted the dusty porch steps. The man smiled, his teeth looking very white under the black moustache, and waved Piet towards the open door.

Piet stepped into the big farm kitchen and froze. A British soldier stood before him with a lee Enfield levelled at his chest. "Put your hands on your head and come forward, nice and slowly lad," the khaki said, and Piet's heart sank. A trap, another bloody trap."Now slip off your shirt and put your hands behind your back," the soldier continued. Blinking back tears of rage and chagrin, Piet complied, then raised his eyes to study the armed soldier. It was hard to tell the man's age, Piet thought, as the rugged square-jawed face was weather beaten and deeply tanned. He noted the soldier's two stripes as he turned to the trooper beside him, "Tie his wrists please, Fowler."
"Yes corporal," the young soldiers replied, and pulling some rope from his pocket, stepped forward.
The corporal strode across to the big kitchen table and, placing the gun on the scarred, scrubbed wooden surface. dropped onto a wooden chair. He stretched his legs out before him and crossed his ankles, affording Piet a fine view of his more than ample endowment, clearly displayed in his tight khaki breeches. He'd seen the direction of Piet's gaze and the scout thought he could detect a faint smile under the corporal's thick cavalry moustache. "Bring him over here, Fowler," he said then turned his head as the big bare-chested man entered carrying Piet's saddlebags overs his shoulder.

Piet followed the corporal's gaze and realised what a fool he had been. The big soldier was wearing the trousers of a much smaller farmer and it seemed that they would burst at the seams at any moment. As he swung the heavy bags off his shoulder and dumped them on the table, there was a loud ripping sound. The corporal snorted with laughter and said, "For God's sake get those trousers off and put your breeches back on Gray, they're indecent." The soldier grinned and began to unbuckle his belt. He glanced across at Piet and their eyes locked. The scout, feeling himself hardening rapidly, stared back until the soldier lowered his eyes to appraise his muscular torso. When the trooper's eyes eyes finally fixed upon his groin, Piet's cock was jutting out proudly. Gray licked his lips and, without shifting his gaze pulled the belt free. Not bothering to unbutton the straining flies, he ripped the trousers open to the crotch. Piet got a brief glimpse of dense public hair and the base of a thick cock, before the trooper swivelled around and plonked himself down on a chair beside the corporal. He tugged off his boots, rose and again turned to face Piet.  Then he shoved the trousers down over his musclar legs and straightened up, staring into Piet's eyes. Piet gawped at the huge, swinging tumescent cock in awe. The big gleaming glans had pushed clear of all but a narrow band of foreskin
and as Piet watched, a big bead of pre-cum dropped from it to hang on a glass-like thread.

The young trooper, Fowler, suddenly flung Gray's discarded breeches at him and shouted, "Stop showing off and get those on you dirty bastard."
"What's riling you Fowler, haven't you seen a real man's dick before?" Gray smirked as he bent to climb into his breeches  Fowler bridled, "Why you arrogant fuck....."
"That's quite enough," the corporal cut in, as Gray buckled and buttoned up and Piet was glad to see that the thick shaft was still clearly discernable under the khaki serge. "Now, let's see what we have  here," said the corporal, turning his attention to Piet's saddlebags.