Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Pro Bono 4

Chapter 4.

"Nice home, Mr. James"

"Thank you, Tomas, just call me James and skip the Mister bit. Can I offer
you a drink? Coke or beer?"

"I like beer, Mr. James" Didnt' quite get my message. I passed him a can
of beer. I sat besides him, looked at my watch, 6:30 pm, a bit early for
dinner, but I was peckish, went and get ourselves a large bag of chips,
"have some chips and we'll order pizza delivery later"

"So, what's your plan now?" "Eh?" "What are you going to do now?"

"Go ask work tomorrow, I hope boss not angry and give me work again" Mmmm,
that could be the other problem, anyway, no point worrying about it now. I
looked at him, in his tight jeans and T-shirt, he could do some modeling
maybe? and with that sizeable schlong of his, he could even post nude, or
appear in a porn flick starring Tomas the Baby Arm and Sharlene the Cat
Woman? or Miss Yang the Tight Fist Woman?

The only sound in the flat was the crunching of chips. I looked at him,
despite his physical strength, he appeared vulnerable. Why woundn't he?
orphaned at the tender age of 16, experienced the trauma of war, then
followed by the long and treacherous journey from his homeland to
Australia. Instead of finding a better life, ended up in detention for a
year, and then thanks to Miss Brook's rape claim, locked up for almost two
months, now sitting in front of me, with no place to call home, a dim
prospect in finding immediate work, all his life savings a measly $500,
very bleak. I wanted to find out more about him, I was curious. I started
off by asking what happened to his family during the war.

"The Serbs, they kill mama, papa, brother Ivan, rape sister, Elena, kill
her. Me hide in forest. Serbs look for me, but forest dark" So, he
survived. He joined up with other refugees escaping the war, they
travelled in dark and on foot for the entire journey, often in hunger and
in fear of running into Serb militia. Many villages were scorched, but
most of the time food could be found among the ruins. Hunger, thirst,
fear, fatigue, thanked God it wasn't me. Once the refugees crossed the
border and entered into Hungary, their trip made easier by making use of
freight trains, and often with some helps from the Croatian communities in
those cities.

"How did you manage to get on the German freighter? the ROSTOCK ?" He
went quiet, then his face went red.

'You will not laugh? Me ashame" "No, I will not laugh at you, so, tell me"

The small group of refugees arrived Hamburg, Tomas and a couple of others
found job in a small restaurant as kitchen hands. Unfortunately, the
restaurant was raided one night, some locals tipped off the police about
the presence of illegal aliens. Alien? E.T.? Christian compassion? No,
not in my back yard, all aliens must leave this planet.

Tomas was on the run, separated with other refugees, he resorted to shop
liftings in the super markets and on this occasion, begging for money
outside a bar. He asked this German guy for five Euros, instead, the guy
took him to KFC. Tomas' German limited to a few basic greetings, but
somehow with the help of International Langauge, the German guy got the

"He, maybe 40, good man, help me, we have sex, I let him" Tomas told the
story without much emotion. They went to rent a room in a small hotel, and
Tomas exchanged sex for food and a bed for the night, would I take similar
action? Most likely.

Nothing very adventurous, masturbation, oral sex, Tomas gestured with his
International Language, "No fucking arse, me big, he say". Understatement.
He didn't say who did what to whom, I was curious.

They were together for a week, then one morning the German guy took him to
see an interpreter, who explained to Tomas that this German guy was the
captain of a freighter, who was willing to take Tomas onboard and sail for
Sydney, Australia, except Tomas must stay in his cabin, and must not show
his face to any of the crew members during the voyage. When they arrived
Sydney, Captain Mueller would notify UN high commissioner, the harbor
police, and Tomas must declare himself as refugee and asked for asylum.
The interpreter was from one of the Croatian Community groups, Tomas was
told. So, Tomas exchanged sex for the trip to the new world, looking for
freedom and new life. Capt. Mueller also gave me 1000 Euros, a very kind
Captain, Captain Mueller said he would love to form a relationship with
Tomas if it wasn't for his wife of twenty years and two grown up kids.

He was taken off the ship by the Australian Immigration Officer as soon as
the ship berthed at Port Botany Container Terminal, and subsequently sent
to Villawood Detention Centre. "How come you have a Croatian passport?"
"Papa say war time, we all keep passport, Croatia ,16 year old get
passport" He stayed out of trouble throughout the 12 months he was in
Villawood, all he did was attending English classes and excercised daily.
English classes didn't show much result, but the excercise surely did.
With the help of refugee advocates and UN offficials, Tomas got his
Australian Protection Visa. Because of his poor spoken English, the best
he could find was manual works, storeman, kitchen hands etc. If Tomas was
convicted of this rape case, he could be deported after serving the
sentences, lucky escape. So much happened to someone so young. Time for
pizzas. I ordered a family specials from Domino, and boy, this Croatian
could eat. More beers, "soocer match on, Man U Vs Arsenal, want to watch?"
"Oh thank you Mr. James, me Arsenal fan" "Well, me, Man U fan" I turned on
the sport channel. Match result, 2-1 Man U won. Time for bed. I decided
Tomas deserved better than the floor.

"Tomas, I'll take a shower first, you can have one after" "OK, thank you
Mr. James"

I was under the shower, weird thoughts, visions of Tomas having sex with
the German Captain kept popping up, totally out of my control, tried
focusing on someone's images, Marrion, or Johann's current secretary
Veronica, but Tomas kept featuring with everyone of them. I looked down, a
solid hard on pointing upwards, desperate for a wank. With my back against
the wall, my eyes closed, warm sprays hitting on my shoulders, Captain
Mueller looking up from his kneeling position, worshiping Tomas' marble
column, I was too horny to worry about turning into a homo, I took hold of
my cock, masturbating with a dream like pace, very slowly, savoring the
pleasure, worshiping side by side with the Captain, looking up to that
manificent column.

Abruptly the unwelcome sound of toilet flushing dragged me out of my dream,
when I opened my eyes, Tomas was standing infront of the toilet, shaking
off the last drop of piss, yet his attention was on me, watching the
movement of my hand, when he looked up, he stared right into my opened
eyes. Instead of leaving the bathroom, he walked closer towards the shower
door, slowly rested one hand on the outside of the shower door as if trying
to reach out and touch me, and the other rubbing his cock up and down. He
never let his eyes off mine, like we were conducting a silent
communication, we had a common goal, we were heading towards the same
destination, like someone looking into the mirror, except in our case, the
reflections were of different persons. His cock now fully hard, heavy,
thick, his hairy knuckles moving up and down the long shaft, rubbing the
red gland in a frantic pace, the muscles of his thick arm rippling, the
tempos were contagious, I was trying to catch up with him, matching him
stroke by stroke, only the noise of running water and the slapping sounds
of cocks fisting echoing in the bathroom.

I extended my free hand, reaching out for his, only to be frustrated by the
sheet of glass. Our eyes locked, those aqua colors of his, his mouth now
half opened, then he pushed forward his pelvis, until the tip of his cock
rubbing against the door. I followed his example, we were grinding against
each other, I felt the radiating heat generated from his cock, I felt the
vibration from our fists banging against the glass panel, then his cock
poked through the glass and touched my core, the dream person walked out of
the mirror. I heard deep throaty groans, the sounds of the mortally
wounded, the helpless mankind falling into the abyss of no return, I
convulsed, my ejeculation hit the panel, spraying it. Tomas followed my
lead, his cock emitting globs and globs of thick white spunk onto the
glass, drawing images, then smearing them, preparing the canvass for
painting the picture of our story.

We rested our foreheads on the opposite sides of the door, recovering,
trying to catch our breath, we smiled weakly. Then Tomas went over to pull
out some tissue to clean the remaining drop of cum off his cock, pulled
more tissue out and used it to wipe the sperm off from the shower door,
some from the floor, followed by the flushing of toilet. My come was
washed off by the water sprays, downed into the drain.

"Good sex, Mr. James, you think my cock bigger?" So fucking obvious, yes,
bigger always better, bigger tits, bigger muscles, bigger houses, bigger
salaries, bigger cars, bigger TVs, bigger bigger bigger, that should be the
title of my next rap/hip hop hit.

He just stood outside the shower and waited for me to finish, made no
effort to put his cock back inside his trousers, that long tube hanging
low, still full with blood. He saw me appraising him, and I noticed his
cock twitched slightly. I opened the shower door and got out, my hip
brushed passed the tip of his cock, I felt liked being branded by a hot
iron, zapped by a cattle prod.

Sharing bed with him might not be such an brilliant idea.

(To be continued.......)

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