The Telemachus Story Archive

Having Harry
Part 2 - Drinking Daze
By Kyle Cicero

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Having Harry

By Kyle Cicero

Thanks again to Khalid for the inspiration and input. Again, English translations are given for Arabic terms.

Part Two: Drinking Daze

The next night Harry and his fellow Marine guard buddies followed the directions that Harry had received that day to an old warehouse by the port. When they entered, the Marine’s saw Salib standing in the center of the room. They recognized that all the Arab police officers from the local embassy protection squad were also in attendance.

“Well you came,” a gleeful Salib said as Harry walked up to join him.

“Marines don’t fucking back out of a promise,” Harry stated. “Shall we get it on right now?”

“I think we should get out of our regular clothes,” Salib responded. “ I brought appropriate shorts for us to wear as well as boxing gloves. After all, this is a boxing match not some tawdry street brawl.” He gazed at Harry. I see you wore sneakers.

“”Hard to box in boots or shoes,” harry gruffly replied.

“Since we are both wearing sneakers that should suffice. Don’t you agree?” Salib stated.

“Whatever,” Harry loudly answered. “Street clothes or whatever we wear, I’m still kicking your Arab ass tonight.”

“My friend’s brought some refreshments as a sign of our goodwill,” Salib calmly told Harry as the Marine followed him to the room where the items Salib brought waited for them.

The other Marines joined the other Arabs and were offered drinks.

“Harry is going to kick your guy’s ass,” Corporal Drake said to a rather portly Arab named Abdul who was standing next to him. He laughed then gulped down his second large cup of the brew the Arab policemen had brought.

“I would not underestimate my friend,” Abdul calmly replied.

“Your friend is toast,” Drake slurring replied.

Telhas Teeze { kiss my ass}, Abdul thought as he gazed at the tall, red-headed Marine. He handed the Marine a large cup filled with liquid. As the younger man drank, Abdul took in Drake’s nice tight build especially, the rounded curve of his bubbled, rear-end. “Would you care to put your ass on the line with a side bet?” He lightly inquired. “Perhaps the same wager your friend made with my friend?”

Drake blinked. “Gees are you Arab guys all a bunk of faggots?” he slightly slurred.

“Does that mean you are afraid of making such wager,” Abdul replied. “I thought American Marines feared nothing? Then again maybe you secretly fear your friend will lose tonight?”

“Fuck you,” Drake answered. “I’m not afraid of anything you fruit. Harry will whip your friend’s butt. The bet is on! If your loser friend wins you can take my ass. Not that it will ever happen,” he slowly replied as if it was an effort to think. He took another long drink from the cup that Abdul had quickly refilled. Salib’s friends, who were serving the other Marines, had correctly figured that the young s American men would not detect that the liquid they were drinking had a strong alcoholic content nor that the Arab men were drinking from bottles that had no alcohol in it. By now, most of the young Marines, were feeling its effects. Each had also been tricked into masking side bets where their high and tight military rumps were the prize. In each instance, it had been sealed by each Marine’s honor promise. Abdul gazed at his fellow Arabs and smiled. Other returned the grins to him. He noticed his friend Omar was pouring yet another drink for a young, lanky built, handsome blonde Marine named Carl who, thanks to his drinking, was not to steady on his feet. Abdul knew his friend had long desired to fuck that particular embassy guard. The Marine had accosted Omar’s sister in the local market. Both he and his brother, who was standing next to him, had vowed retribution. Abdul nodded at his friend’s good fortune then returned his eyes to the center of the room.

Moments later, Salib and Harry, now dressed in boxing gloves and shorts entered into the room. Both were well-built. Harry was taller and better defined while Salib was more bulky in his muscularity. The American’s sparse chest hair was barely visible against his pale skin. The black-haired however, Salib had a nicely furry chest leading to a thin honey trail. The two men wasted no time and swiftly moved into a large chalk-lined square that had been drawn to serve as a makeshift boxing ring..

“Ready asshole?” Harry joked as he raised his gloved hands.

Ayreh Feek,” Salib replied. He saw the look of confusion on his opponent’s face. “That’s Arabic for ‘fuck you’ or screw you’. In my country it is a common expression prior to a gruesome fistfight. It literally means ‘my penis in you’ which will happen when you lose.

“Well Ayreh Feek to you,” an angry Harry grunted. Trust me, if someone’s penis is getting sucked it’s not yours,” he raised his gloves half-way up his body and moved towards Salib.

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