Billy was excited as he poked through a layer of decaying asphalt shingles with his digging tool. Could it really be possible that he was the first person to have found this salvage site?
It was one of those beautiful early-autumn days when the sky was a rich blue, the air was pleasantly warm, and the humidity was low. Billy wore only a pair of over-sized pants, cut off at mid-calf and held up by a rope belt. He had tossed aside his rough home-spun shirt when he started working.
His digging site, well-hidden by undergrowth, was 200 feet from a prominent mound that had long ago been thoroughly played-out. That mound was reputed to be the remains of a huge and elaborate home... a salvage site that had offered up to previous generations of diggers a host of relics from the fabled Golden Age. Billy's digging place, in contrast, had probably been nothing more than a small storage shed back in the ancient times, 200 years ago.
The first discovery under the shingles was a contraption that had one of those fascinating (but utterly worthless) mechanical power sources. Few folks these days would know it had been called a "2-cycle gasoline engine" back in the Golden Age, and nobody had a clue anymore of how to make it function. With considerable effort, Billy managed to pry from the contraption a thick steel cutting blade, sharpened in a peculiar manner on opposite edges at each end. And then he found some stainless steel implements that might fetch a decent price... if anyone could figure out what they might be used for.
Pa had impressed upon Billy the need to find more salvage to sell at the Autumn Trade Fair that was coming up in a few days. The corn crop had been dismal this year, and earnings from sale of salvage at the Trade Fair would be essential to pay the annual taxes and buy the supplies they needed for the upcoming winter.
The burlap sack that held Billy's collection of salvage was getting heavy, but he made one last scan, carefully pulling aside some thin twisted strips of tan-colored aluminum siding.
They caught his eye immediately -- three identical medium-sized locks, still packaged together beneath clear plastic shrinkwrap, atop a disintegrating piece of cardboard. If Billy had been able to read, he could have made out the words "1-1/2 inch solid brass padlocks with case-hardened steel shackle", and a price tag of $12.99. All Billy cared about was that they were valuable antiques that looked brand new. He tried the keys, and the locks worked so smoothly that it was almost magic. Now THIS was great salvage!
Billy stood there admiring the locks, feeling the exhilaration of a successful hunt, before tossing them into the burlap bag and heading out of the undergrowth. As he walked over to grab his shirt, Billy was amused to realize that his penis was standing up totally hard inside his pants, and he rubbed it a few times with his hand. This stiffening was happening to him more and more frequently... when he woke in the morning, when he was excited (like now), and sometimes when he was just walking along and his trousers were brushing against his dick. He looked down at his sweaty bare torso, taking a deep breath to puff up his chest. 'Not bad for a 12-year-old' he thought. His slender physique was finally starting to fill out a bit... his shoulders broadening. He could detect the very beginnings of some adolescent muscles... no longer a little boy, though still a very long way from maturity. The summer sun had tanned his pale skin a bit too, but it wasn't nearly as dark as a normal person's complexion, of course.
His hands wandered languidly over his chest as he stretched and flexed like a cat. Ah, the sun felt good! His hands slid farther down along his belly. Then lower still....
There was that peculiar feeling again. That tingling pressure in his private parts... that indescribable feeling of warmth that radiated from his rigid penis. Billy rubbed the front of his pants again... mmmmm... nice! After looking around quickly to be completely sure he was still alone, he untied his belt, and the too-big trousers fell to the ground. He stepped out of them and stood completely naked in the warm breeze.
It was a fascinating toy, this plump 4-inch rod of warm, rigid flesh. It pointed straight up, and the short foreskin pulled back enough to reveal half of his purple glans. Billy pulled the shaft forward with his thumb and let go... then repeated it twice more. He giggled with a sense of joyful discovery each time the erection slapped against the soft hairless skin of his lower belly. Standing there in the Autumn sun, not another soul anywhere around, Billy began playing and experimenting with his stiff organ. Stroking his fingertips along the shaft felt delicious. Squeezing it in his hand made the sensations feel even better. And pulling down the foreskin to fully reveal the exquisitely sensitive head... then pushing it back up and sliding it down again... caused an intense shiver of pleasure to run through his body. The feeling increased yet again when the fingers of his other hand tickled his loose ball-sack. As he played with his balls it seemed that the orbs were fatter, and their satin-smooth pouch hung a bit lower, than the last time he'd taken notice. Wow! He was growing up!
But as his fingers continued to caress and stimulate his boyish genitals, the sensations became almost unpleasant in their intensity, and Billy stopped his explorations. The feeling was too strange... the pressure in his groin too strong. Was it a signal that he shouldn't be doing these things? Perhaps he could ask Pete. Billy suspected that his 17-year-old brother sometimes played with his dick under the covers. They slept next to each other on the floor of the family's small shack, and Billy sometimes observed the older boy's hand moving beneath the blanket... right where his cock was... though Pete always stopped immediately when he saw that Billy was looking.
Pete had never been all that friendly with Billy, but maybe he would answer some of the boy's questions.
Billy pulled up his trousers and slipped his shirt over his head. He gave his still-erect cock one last rub through the material before slinging the sack over his shoulder and setting off for home, 5 miles distant on the shore of Solitude Creek, a small tributary of the Chesapeake Bay. Maybe he would detour to the stream than ran through this area. There was a natural swimming hole where he could bathe in clean fresh water, and wash away the weeks of sweat and dirt that had accumulated since he last bathed. (The creek in front of his home was brackish, and stinging jellyfish made swimming an unpleasant experience.)
He was a shy boy, almost painfully so, and if there were any other kids at the swimming hole, he'd probably just keep moving. He knew he shouldn't be so sensitive about their teasing... the laughing taunts about his white skin and blond hair... his slender nose and blue eyes... but he couldn't help it. His sister always tried to assure him that there was no shame in being a whitey. She reminded him that their great-uncle, who had lived up on the Miles River, had the same unusual features as Billy, and the uncle had led a fairly normal life. And Billy treasured the time Sister had told him: "I don't care what the others say; I think you're very handsome!"
Billy had no idea that in this area, a place once known as the Eastern Shore of Maryland, over half the population had been white during the Golden Age. But there were no history books that recounted how the incredibly contagious terrorist virus had very nearly wiped out the entire human race. It had additionally wiped out the technology-based civilization that had existed before. By 2004 - in the aftermath of the great Global Plague - only 1% of people with pure European ancestry survived the catastrophic depopulation. For some reason, persons of color had proven somewhat more resistant to the genetically-engineered virus. Here on the Eastern Shore, generations of racial assimilation had eliminated what had once been called the "white race", save for an occasional child -- like Billy -- who was born with the features of a white ancestor.
Though Billy didn't know any of this history, he was acutely aware that everyone on the river had bronze skin, dark wavy hair, and brown eyes... everyone except him and Martin. Martin was also 12 years old, and his dark black skin and kinked hair made him almost as much of an oddity as Billy. He lived across the wide Choptank River, almost an hour's sail in Pa's small skiff. Though they were totally different in appearance, and saw each other only infrequently, Billy and Martin shared a special bond of friendship.
As he neared the swimming hole, Billy crept silently, a skill he had perfected hunting small game. He heard two voices but continued forward, keeping himself hidden in the underbrush. Peeking through the bushes, he recognized two farm boys who lived nearby. The tall and sturdy 15-year-old was named Jamal. The other was a boy of 13 named Maurice, who always went by the nickname "Shorty". Shorty was even smaller than Billy and looked especially young standing next to Jamal.
Billy knew that Jamal was the leader of an informal gang of boys in this area who preyed on weaker kids and committed petty thefts, and he wanted no part of them. But he couldn't take his eyes away from the scene playing out before him. The two boys were naked, standing a foot apart, face-to-face on the stream bank. Each had his right hand wrapped around the other's stiff cock... their left hands rested on each other's shoulders.
Billy crept even closer, moving through the undergrowth without a sound, until he lay flat on his belly on the top of the creek bank, a mere 20 feet from the two boys. He stared breathlessly at their erections. Jamal's was HUGE to Billy's eyes -- fully 7 inches and thick, with a mat of black curly hair above and full, low-hanging balls beneath. But Shorty's was just as much of a shock -- the bronze-skinned lad's cock stood up more than 5 inches... surprising on such a scrawny, boyish body... and a collection of dark hairs sprouted at its base. As the two farm boys masturbated each other slowly, murmurs of pleasure rose above the sound of the wild in the trees and the buzzing of insects. Jamal had a look of hungry lust in his eyes, and when he let go of Shorty's cock he put both his hands on the lad's shoulders.
"Get down and gimme a blow job, Shorty... take my cock all the way in your throat, just like last time." His voice was friendly, but firm.
Shorty dropped to his knees, slid his fingers around the engorged cock, and smiled up at the older boy. Then his mouth came down, and the fat cock-head disappeared into the boy's small mouth.
Billy could hardly breath as he watched. He had never seen anything like this... never known that two people could do such things. He was utterly entranced... and totally aroused. Billy's penis was again throbbing in a persistent erection, but he dared not move to fondle it and risk giving himself away. He continued to watch, motionless, as the sex scene grew ever more intense.
Shorty's head bobbed up and down on the man-size phallus that glided between his thick lips. His tongue swirled around the pole, and his mouth kept advancing farther down the shaft of cock-meat on the down-strokes, taking in 3 inches for a time.... then 4... then 5.
"Oh, yeah! Do it!... Now take it all!... Suck that cock all the way down!... Mmmmm, yeah! You're a great cocksucker, Shorty! Take it all!" Jamal's fingers entwined through the boy's wavy dark hair, and he pulled down on Shorty's head, forcing it further onto the thick brown erection. Only when Shorty gagged did Jamal let him up for a breath and a moment's respite.
"You can do it.... Just like yesterday.... Come on, cocksucker. Do it!" And Jamal's hands again guided the younger boy's head and mouth.
To Billy's amazement, this time the whole 7 inches slid all the way into Shorty's throat, and the boy's lips pressed against the dense mat of public hair. His lips rose half-way up the shaft, only to be forced down again by Jamal's strong hands. Billy couldn't really tell whether Shorty was enjoying this activity, but he was clearly trying his best to comply with his older friend's demands. Again and again the thick erection fucked into the boy's mouth, as Jamal thrust his hips forward and grunted with lust.
"Alright... that's enough," gasped Jamal after several minutes of vigorous face-fucking, and he pulled away from Shorty's sucking mouth. "You know what I want now, don't you.... I'm gonna fuck your ass, and you're gonna love it... ain't you Shorty?"
The younger boy was breathing heavily from the exertion of the deep-throat blow job. Saliva drooled down the side of his mouth and snot from his nose until he wiped it with the back of his hand. Still kneeling at Jamal's feet, he looked up with a sad puppy-dog look on his face.
"Gee, I dunno, Jamal," he whined. "Don't ya wanna cum in my mouth?... I'll get you off really good... I promise I'll swallow every drop of your cum... OK, Jamal?"
"No way, Shorty. I'm training you to be my fuckboy. You ended up liking it both those other times. Now get down in position for me. Do it now, fuckboy. I can kick you out of the gang just as easily as I let you in. You don't want that, do you?"
As Billy watched in amazement, Shorty silently obeyed, turning away from Jamal and resting his forearms on the grassy embankment. As he lifted his slender ass up submissively, he rested his forehead on his clenched fists and closed his eyes. Jamal knelt between Shorty's splayed legs and positioned his cockhead at the entrance of the boy's anus. As Jamal eagerly jabbed forward with his hips, a suppressed note of pain issued from Shorty's throat.
"Come on, Shorty. Stop fighting me. You know you gotta do this if you want to be in the gang. I'm gonna fuck you regardless, so you might as well loosen up your damn hole. It's gonna hurt like hell if I have to force my way in." As he said this, Jamal was applying an additional coating of spit to his cock.
"OK, Jamal. I think I can do it now," said Shorty with a timid voice.
And sure enough, when Jamal again positioned his erection and thrust his hips, the fat dark cock-head slipped through the ring of muscle. Two grunts reached Billy's ears at the same moment. One trumpeted Jamal's surging lust. The other, barely muffled, evidenced the stab of pain in Shorty's tight ass. Jamal wasn't being gentle, but at least he was taking it slowly. He kept pushing forward gradually with his rigid prick until he was all the way in, deep inside Shorty's rectum.
"Ahh... yeah!... Alright fuckboy, here we go!" said Jamal, as he began to slide his cock back and forth past the boy's tight anus, slowly at first, holding him by the hip-bones. Before long, he was thrusting in long smooth strokes that filled Shorty's rectum completely. Jamal's dangling ball-sack swung like a pendulum with each thrust.
Billy was transfixed by the sight of the man-sized erection sliding in and out of Shorty's small round ass. But when he glanced again at Shorty's face, he was surprised to see a different expression from the earlier pained grimace. The boy seemed to be enjoying it! His head was now raised up and his mouth hung open. And when high-pitched, boyish pleasure noises emerged from Shorty's throat, harmonizing with the tenor grunts from the 15-year-old, it was clear that Shorty was now a totally willing participant in this erotic act.
"Oooo!... Oh!...Oh yeah, Jamal.... Fuck me.... Fuck me good," he crooned.
"Alright, Shorty! I KNEW you loved getting fucked!" crowed Jamal. "Take that cock, boy. Tell me what you are! Come on; tell me!"
"I'm your... ugh... I'm your fuckboy, Jamal... I'm your cocksuckin' fuckboy punk... Agh!... Yeah!... Do me, Jamal!"
"That's it.... Yeah!... Take it, boy... Oh God, here it comes... I'm gonna fill up that tight cunt of yours with my juice."
And as Jamal's flexing hips went into high-gear, rutting with a desperate urgency for release, Shorty pushed his ass up and back to meet each thrust. A look of total lust was on each boy's face, and Billy stared and listened in utter amazement. With a shout of orgasmic pleasure that accompanied his cock's eruption, Jamal wrapped his arms around Shorty's torso and pulled the boy upright against his strong chest.
With his cock still humping into the 13-year-old's bowels and spewing hot cum, Jamal reached down and took hold of Shorty's half-hard penis. Breathing heavily against the boy's neck, Jamal began masturbating Shorty's 5-inch boner with one hand, while running his other hand over the younger boy's tight belly and skinny, hairless chest.
"Come on, baby.... Shoot your spunk for me"
"Oh, Jamal! Yessss!... That's so good!... Oh God, YES!" whimpered Shorty. And he craned his neck around so he could look into the older boy's face. Their eyes locked, and in a moment their lips did as well. Sloppy tongue-wrestling lust accompanied the hurried jack-off, as Jamal hugged the boy tightly from behind... his cock still throbbing in Shorty's ass.
Billy watched it all from his close-up viewpoint, with wonder and arousal, hardly able to take a breath, as Shorty's body suddenly arched back and a moan of supreme pleasure filled the air. A string of thick white fluid shot from his 5-inch erection, pumped out by Jamal's fast-moving fist. It was followed by several more smaller spurts, and then a flow than coated Jamal's fingers. Shorty was almost having convulsions as Jamal continued manipulating his cum-coated glans. Jamal played out the boy's orgasm to an agonizingly intense duration... slowing his hand to a near-stop, then giving a few more quick strokes, then slowing again. He even induced a delayed spurt of cum... almost a minute after the first eruption. All the while his tongue explored the inside of Shorty's mouth and his left hand pinched the boy's tiny hard nipples.
Finally, they collapsed onto the soft grassy stream bank, and lay on their sides, Jamal's body spooning tightly along Shorty's back, his strong arms wrapped around the younger boy's chest. Jamal's cock was still lodged inside Shorty's ass, still stiff, massaged by the anal spasms that accompanied the younger boy's orgasm. Shorty murmured words of loyalty and submission as Jamal gently nuzzled against the lad's neck and began moving his hips again in a thrusting motion.
Billy realized he needed to make his escape and slipped away from the stream as silently as he had arrived. His penis was as stiff as he had ever felt it, and the pressure in his groin was distinctly uncomfortable. But he made his way home quickly, without pausing again along the way.
By the time he arrived at the shack on Solitude Creek, it was dusk. The cooking fire sent a welcoming plume of smoke from the crude brick chimney, and Billy's stomach rumbled in anticipation of what Sister might have prepared for the family's supper. The pretty, dark-skinned 14-year-old girl had always tried her best to be the "woman of the house", and Billy only vaguely remembered his mother, who had died when he was so young.
Pa admired the padlocks that Billy had found, though he was coldly dismissive of the value of the other tools, whose utility was lost in the forgotten Golden Age. Sister had made a big pot of crab soup, with tomatoes and beans and okra that she had put up from their garden, and it was delicious. Billy himself had caught the crabs that morning, running a trot-line with the skiff. Soon after dinner, as the house darkened with the night, Billy laid his corn-husk mattress on the floor and pulled the blanket over himself. Pete went out to talk and laugh with his buddies, while Sister lit a candle and cleaned up, talking quietly with Pa.
Pete's usual place for sleeping was on the floor next to Billy, but Sister slept with Pa on the feather bed, up in the sleeping loft. Back a couple years ago, Pete had been the one who slept with Pa, and Sister had been with Billy down on the floor. Billy never really understood why Pete stopped being Pa's favorite. All he knew was that HE had never been liked well enough by Pa to be invited to share the feather bed. As Billy drifted off to sleep, he heard Pa and Sister laughing quietly as Pa refilled their glasses with whiskey from the jug.
Later that night....
Billy was dreaming. It was an intensely erotic dream that dredged up the memories of Jamal and Shorty from the previous day. In the swirling unreality of his subconscious, Billy was imagining himself in the middle of a boy-orgy... being fondled, being sucked, being fucked... and in turn fondling, sucking and fucking. The words were echoing in his ears: "oh yes... fuck me!... give it to me hard... I'm gonna... oh, yeah; I'm gonna cum!..."
His eyes popped open and he was awake (a rare event this time of night, as Billy almost always slept soundly until dawn). The voice was still there, a moaning that sounded almost like someone in pain. It was Sister's voice! And Pa was grunting too. Billy nudged Pete, who lay next to him and hissed: "Brother! Wake up! Do you hear that?!"
"Mfrumf... Wha?... Huh?" mumbled Pete.
"Brother; listen!" whispered Billy.
"Hah! Yeah; they're a lot louder than usual. Sister was pretty drunk when I came in. Musta loosened her tongue. Go back to sleep, Little Brother."
"But... but.... What's going on?" pleaded Billy, still in a whisper... though he knew in his heart what was going on up in the sleeping loft. The noises had reached a crescendo of grunting and huffing... accompanied by the rhythmic creaking of the loft's floorboards.
"Are you as dumb as you are ugly? They're fucking, of course.... Just like they do 'bout every night, after they think everyone's asleep. Just a lot louder this time."
"Fucking? You mean Pa's putting his thing in Sister's poop-hole?"
"God! You ARE stupid. He's plowin' her cunt... you know, the girl-slit between her legs.... Course, I guess he COULD be taking her up the ass, now that you mention it.... He fucked MY ass so many nights up in that damned loft that I.... Shit; you're just a little kid. You're too young to know about this stuff. Go back to sleep." Suddenly the noise from the loft quieted to just an occasional sigh.
"Am NOT too young! I'm 12 years old!" whispered Billy, after a long pause of listening and thinking.
"Years-old don't make no difference. Can you shoot cum yet?" asked Pete, his voice barely audible.
"Huh?" was Billy only reply.
"Pull back your blanket and show me your cock. Jeez; why am I even bothering?" hissed Pete.
After a moment's hesitation, Billy threw back the cover, untied his belt, and pushed his trousers down. His cock was a plump 4-inch hard-on, the red shaft highlighted against his white skin in the moonlight shining through the window.
"Not bad, Little Brother," whispered Pete in an approving tone. "You sure you don't cum when you have jack-off sessions with your little boyfriends?"
"I don't... I mean... I never...." mumbled Billy.
"Oh, that's right. You don't HAVE any friends. Guess it's up to me to teach ya."
Billy felt his face heat-up with the anger and shame of acknowledging his total lack of friends... except for Martin, way off across the river. But his heart start to beat fast and hard at the thought of Pete teaching him about these sexual secrets. Pete kicked his own blanket off, and slid his own trousers down to his knees. He grabbed his soft cock and gave it a few jerks.
"Watch, and do what I do," murmured Pete as his nut-brown penis quickly filled out to a mature 6-inch erection.
Billy recognized the masturbatory stroke as being the same that Jamal had used on Shorty, not long before Billy had left the scene the previous afternoon. As his eyes focused on Pete's hand jacking his cock, Billy's own hand rode the skin of his straining 12-year-old penis, up and down, sending jolts of strange sensation throughout his body. He was already primed... on the edge of a wet dream when he was awaked by the noise in the loft.
"Oh!... Oh!... It's so... I feel like I'm gonna..."
"Keep doing it, just like that," encouraged Pete, as he speeded up his own jack-off stroke for a quick orgasm.
Billy felt his whole body tense. It felt like he needed to pee... was that what had shot from Shorty's penis? His heart was beating like crazy, but he couldn't breathe. He just kept pumping with his fist, his body straining every muscle. And then....
"AHHHH!!"
A spurt of thin, clear semen erupted from Billy's straining cock... with so much velocity that the first drops landed on his chin. His hand continued to jerk in quick non-rhythmic strokes, as his mind gave up trying to rationally analyze what was happening to his body. Only after the incredible spasms of his very first orgasm finally subsided did Billy's mind come back to earth. He looked over at Pete. The older boy had just finished licking his hands and was now wiping them on his blanket.
"Good one, Little Brother!" he whispered. "NOW go back to sleep." And he grinned at Billy with an affection that he had rarely shown before.
Bill really wanted to stay up and talk, but he just said: "Thanks, Big Brother.... Goodnight."
The shack was silent once more... save only for the sound of Pa's snoring up in the loft.
In the following days, Billy continued his search for salvage. He also used his time alone in the woods to practice his new- found hobby... jacking off. He did it so frequently that his penis became sore, and he sometimes worried he'd permanently injured it.
He tried talking to his older brother about sex... especially about the revelation that Pa had used Pete sexually during the years that Pete had shared his bed... just as Pa was now using Sister. But Pete would barely discuss any of it, and Billy wasn't about to ask Pa or Sister. (Sexual taboos had essentially disappeared after the Great Plague, but even Billy knew instinctively that a sexual relationship between a father and his child was not a matter to be openly discussed.) So Billy turned the ideas over in his brain, trying to come up with the truth. Ma had died when Billy was 4. That meant Pete would have been 9 and Sister 6. Had Pete first started sleeping in the loft bed right away? Billy couldn't remember.
"Why had Pa never wanted to fuck me?" Billy thought to himself. "It's because I'm so ugly... a goddamn whitey. That must be it."
The morning of the Autumn Fair was clear and cool, the steady breeze perfect for ferrying the goods they were going to sell. It took two trips in the skiff to get the bags of corn, the accumulated salvage, and all four family members down to the town of Cambridge, and Billy sailed the boat for each leg.
Nearly everyone who lived in these parts -- around 600 people in all -- would be at the fairgrounds just outside of town. In addition to the wares of traveling merchants, many of the families came to sell a variety of goods. Like a good many families, Pa rented a selling-stall and began setting up the salvage on its counter. Some folks were selling their goods from a simple blanket spread on the ground. Nearly all would be buying supplies for the winter. This was also the time and place for the garrison of Lord Baltimore's soldiers to collect the year's taxes. If the tax collectors had to go looking for you later on, there would be a penalty... and maybe a brutal beating for their trouble. Pa had no coins when he arrived, and would need 3 whole dollars for the tax. He sold the corn right away for 2 dollars, 1 and 8. There was no use bargaining the price, because it was basically fixed by the various grain merchants. (Pa sold to the merchant who offered two gulps from the whiskey jug to seal the transaction, rather than just one.) With luck, the family would get several more dollars from the salvage.
Coinage was uniform among the three often-squabbling governments along the Chesapeake that had arisen in the old cities of Baltimore, Norfolk, and Washington. It was based on the system from long ago and used a mixture of antique coins and new mintage from the three feudal city-states. The basic coin was the copper, called a "penny" by some. A silver (also called a "dime") was slightly smaller in size, but was worth 10 coppers. Ten silvers made a dollar -- a large and impressive coin. Five dollars equaled a gold piece, but hardly anyone on the river had ever even seen one of those. Amounts were expressed by coinage, so the money Pa received for the corn -- 2 dollars 1 and 8 -- would be expressed as "$2.18" in the archaic usage.
After things were set up, Pa went to the whiskey-seller's tent to socialize with old friends and buy a supply of liquor to take home. Sister and Pete went in separate directions, scouting the grounds for youths they knew. Both of Billy's siblings had reached traditional courting age for their respective genders, so both kept an eye out for suitable mates with whom to flirt. Sister was especially anxious to hook a young man, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Pa (or some boy) knocked her up. Pa usually made an effort not to shoot his sperm into her pussy, being careful to pull out and finish off in Sister's mouth, or jack his cum onto her tits. The three teenage boys that Sister had spread her legs for were not always so careful.
That left Billy all alone, standing in front of the counter to sell an assortment of antique items that included window panes, various plastic items, and rusty gardening tools whose wooden handles had long ago disintegrated. He wanted to go looking for Martin, but that would come later. For now, there were potential customers to wait on.
A stranger with an odd look in his eyes seemed to be staring at Billy as much as at his wares. People seeing the boy for the first time typically stared at him with either amusement, pity, or an expression of distaste. This was different... almost like the way Jamal had looked while he fondled Shorty the other day.
"These padlocks... they look like they never been used," the man said at last, picking one up to try the mechanism.
"Yes sir. Found them in an untouched mound, with the see-through still covering them."
"I'll give you 9 coppers for all three of them... or a whole silver if you'll take Norfolk coin."
"Thank you for the offer sir," said Billy in a polite voice that disguised his annoyance at the ridiculously low-ball opening bid. "I'm thinking I'll be able to get 2 silvers for each one," said Billy with a straight face; "but I'll sell the three of 'em for 5 and 7.... And begging your pardon, but my Pa insists on Baltimore coin only. The tax collectors don't like Norfolk money."
"Hrumph. And does your Pa need to approve the bargain? If so, I'll just come back when he's here."
"No sir. I can bargain the price and sell it without him."
"So where is your Pa? I hadn't noticed any other whities here."
Billy blushed with embarrassment and some annoyance at having to explain once again. "Pa ain't a whitey," he mumbled. "It's a streak that runs in the family bloodline.... But there's my Pa over at the whisky-seller if you want to ask him whether I can bargain with you. He's sitting at the bar, second from the right, wearing the brown coat.
The man studied Pa for a moment, then turned back. "No need. Would you take 2 and 5 for the lot?"
They bargained back and forth quickly, and both seemed to be satisfied with a sale of all the locks at 3 and 8... more than a third of a dollar!
When Pete finally returned to the stall, it was Billy's turn to look around. His primary goal was quickly accomplished, finding Martin across the fairgrounds at the selling-stall where his family had set up. It wasn't all that hard picking him out of the crowd... a black face in a sea of light mocha. It had been two months since their last time together, but their excited chatter picked up as if it had been only a day, as they caught up with events in each other's lives. Martin's parents let him go exploring with Billy, and they set off across the wide fairgrounds.
After wandering for a time, Billy saw the man who had bought the locks.... He was a merchant. A SLAVE seller! This was the first time Billy had seen slaves being openly sold at the Fair, though he was aware that there were people on the river and here in Cambridge-town who owned a slave or two. A group of onlookers, mostly men, gathered around listening to the seller hawk his wares. It turned out he had only a motley group of three slaves; low quality merchandise that might not be easy to sell. (If they'd been better quality, they'd be marketed in more prosperous location than this backwater town.)
The merchant was just starting his pitch, having brought from the small tent a middle-aged woman who had a cloth-covered band around her neck. She had an unattractive face, but reasonably full breasts. Her less-than-full set of teeth were snaggled and yellow when she gave a forced smile, and she was ineffective at concealing her hostility.
"Gentlemen! We have here a fine wench of some 35 years. She's got nearly 11 years -- yes, you heard me right; 11 years! -- left on a criminal indenture. Very obedient; good and strong; an excellent cook. Perfect for a widower with a brood to care for. Naturally, she's expert at night work," this last part said in an arched voice with a knowing wink. Just to emphasize the point, he tugged the front of her blouse down a bit to expose more of her cleavage.
A man standing near Billy and Martin murmured "from the looks of her, and with a criminal indenture that long, she probably murdered her husband."
As the woman stepped over to the side, the seller brought out a man with so little expression on his face that he was nearly catatonic. A deep gash of a scar ran from his hairline at the temple down to his mouth, disfiguring his face horribly. A stainless steel metal band with a sturdy hasp circled his neck. But the most significant thing about him at least in Billy's eyes was that he was a whitey!
"Here's an unusual find for you. A strong buck slave... and he's a pure-blood whitey," he said, looking right at Billy; "captured from the western mountains at the headwaters of the Potomac River. He comes with a certificate of perpetual servitude from the Washington government, with the proper endorsement stamp from the Baltimore authorities."
A woman in the group commented to her husband "A western barbarian, here on the Shore! What's this world coming to?"
The slave merchant continued: "An excellent field worker, ready to do your nastiest jobs all day, every day, without a complaint."
"Show us his back!" called out a savvy onlooker.
The seller mumbled to the man, who slowly took off his shirt to reveal a cross-hatch of horrific whip scars. "As you can see, he's received some corrective discipline. I'm told he had a tendency to run off when he was first captured, but that was some years ago and I assure you he's long since been broke-in. Just let him know who's boss and he won't give you a bit of trouble. You folks may have heard that whitey slaves are in high demand in the cities these days. All the best people have at least one."
As the male slave shuffled over to join the woman, the seller brought out a boy who was smaller than Billy and clearly suffering the effects of long-term malnourishment, with crusty sores on his scrawny arms, sunken cheeks and eyes, and bowed legs that made his gait awkward. The narrow metal band on his neck had bruised the sensitive skin.
"This is too creepy; let's go," said Martin.
"No; I want to stay for a while."
"Come on, Billy...."
"You go ahead; I'll catch up with you... I promise."
Billy's gaze kept switching back and forth between the scary- looking white man and the small, sad, brown-skinned boy.
"And now we have this bright young lad," said the hopeful merchant. "He just got sold into indentured servitude by his parents two weeks ago, and the lucky buyer will own him until..." (the man looked down at a piece of paper) "... June 7, 2211. That's almost 8 good years of labor and loyal service. He may not look like much right now, but I've found him to be talented and quite eager to please. Give him a decent meal every day, and he'll be a brawny youth before you know it. And in the meantime, he'll keep a discriminating man well-pleased during the night- time hours." Once again, the knowing tone of voice made it crystal clear what the man was talking about.
"Alright, gentlemen, if you have some money in your pocket and are truly interested, you can come into the tent to... uh... examine the merchandise more closely.
Nobody stepped forward at first, and the seller continued to talk up the mostly-imaginary qualities of his products. Then a young man - a shy bachelor that Billy knew slightly -- came up and spoke softly to the merchant and gestured toward the boy. He jingled the money pouch at his belt, and the merchant directed the man and boy into the tent. The merchant followed in a few moments... but only after securing chains to the neck bands of the man slave and woman slave... locked with the very padlocks that Billy had sold several hours before!
As the merchant pulled back the tent flap to enter, Billy caught a clear glimpse of the boy standing with his trousers pulled down and his shirt hiked up. The customer had one hand on the lad's little-boy penis, which had risen to a small erection. His other hand was caressing the boy's skinny ass cheeks, his fingers sliding into the cleft. The tent flap closed for several minutes, and then it flipped open again as the merchant exited. For a few seconds, through the open flap, Billy could now see the boy on his knees in front of the customer. The lad had pulled his pants back up, but the customer was opening the front of his own trousers. The merchant engaged in more hopeful puffing of his wares, reminding the crowd (with a glance toward the tent) that serious shoppers would have an opportunity to privately examine the product before buying. Finally the customer emerged from the tent, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and had an enigmatic look on his face.
"He'll do.... It's a deal," said the young man, and dug some coins from his pouch and handed them to the slave-seller. The boy looked up at him and smiled broadly, and the man gave a slightly embarrassed smile in return. A minute's worth of paperwork sealed the bargain.
Billy felt almost light-headed as he contemplated this scene. The boy was entering a life of servitude... and Billy's growing awareness of sexuality told him that the lad would be kept busy providing service in his master's bed. (The words that Jamal had spoken -- "fuckboy" and "cocksucker" -- flashed through his thoughts.) For some reason, Billy was totally aroused... he felt the now-familiar warmth and pressure in his loins. Maybe it was the boy's smile as he went off into sexual slavery.... Billy wandered away as the slave-trader tried to generate interest in the wench and the buck-slave.
When he found Martin, Billy didn't mention what he had spied through the tent flaps. Instead he immediately returned to the warm comradery that he always felt with his only friend. The two unusual-looking boys - one very black and the other unusually white - continued to explore with an arm clasped over each other's shoulders.
As the sun drew low in the sky, the selling-stalls began closing down and the social activities began in earnest. But each family with a rented stall left someone to guard the goods that were stored there, lest they be stolen. That duty fell to Billy, but Martin stayed to keep him company. Pa dragged Sister along (to her displeasure) for his return visit to the whiskey-seller's tent, while Pete wandered around with his buddies, hoping to get lucky with a girl.
The whiskey-seller spotted Pa and came over to his table, asking if he wanted to try something special -- a free sample. Pa was curious and nodded his head, following the man to a screened off area at the edge of the big tent, with Sister in tow. But instead of a beverage served from a jug, the merchant took out a strange glass implement - a pipe of some sort -- and small glass jar with a tight lid. From the jar he removed three tiny white crystals that looked like rock salt, and placed them at the bottom of the pipe. Instructing Pa to hold the pipe over the lamp flame and inhale deeply of the ensuing smoke as the crystals heated up, the whiskey-seller described the potent energizing properties of the drug... "smoking crystals" he called it. He hinted that the intoxication greatly enhanced one's sexual pleasure and stamina when consumed before and during love-making.
Pa's eyes lit up as he slowly exhaled, and he stared of in a daze for a minute. Then he immediately laid out coins to buy two more portions, one for himself and one for Sister. At a cost of one silver per dose, the drug was frighteningly expensive, costing as much as a whole jug of whiskey. A strange hungry look came into Pa's eyes, as he suddenly poured out the contents of his money pouch onto the table and counted. There was 3 dollars, 2, and 5... still plenty for taxes. And even if he dipped into the tax money, he thought, there'd be more money from selling the rest of their salvage tomorrow. Taxes weren't due until mid-afternoon when the fair started closing down.
Later that evening, after buying and smoking considerably more of the crystals, Pa sent Sister off to tell Billy that she and Pa would be renting one of the flop-house rooms in town, rather than sleeping on the ground at the selling-stall. Billy knew from past experience that Pete would be out carousing until very late, so it would be just him guarding the supplies they'd bought and the salvage still left to sell. But Martin ran to ask his parents if he could stay the night with Billy, and the two boys were overjoyed when the parents agreed.
They talked for a while in the relative privacy of the stall, which was closed on three sides, had a high counter along the front, and a flat slanted roof overhead. Both boys mused about their dreams for the future, and both agreed that they'd move away from the Choptank River when they came of age. They'd make their fortunes in a one of the cities -- probably Baltimore -- where the real opportunities were. They had both heard that the cities were home to small communities of whities and blacks, and it would be such a relief not to stand out so much for a change. As they lay side-by-side on the ground and talked, Billy felt that his bond of friendship with Martin was stronger than ever. Finally, they pulled a big thick blanket over themselves and settled down for the night, as a nearly-full moon shined cold light into the stall.
They lay in silence for several minutes, but Billy's mind was swirling. Each boy lay on his side, facing the other, and Billy studied his friend's nappy black hair and the impossibly rich color of his face, glowing in the moonlight... skin so dark that tones of blue and maroon lay hidden in it. He had always thought Martin was fascinatingly handsome, though he knew most others considered dark-blacks to be almost as homely as whities.
Martin seemed to be asleep... but how could he have fallen asleep so quickly? Billy was wishing he could snuggle against Martin... hold his friend close as they drifted off to sleep. But thoughts of snuggling quickly degenerated into horny thoughts of hard cocks and hot spurting cum. He longed to ask if Martin was interested in sex. But what if Martin thought those things were bad? What if even asking it ruined their friendship?
As these thoughts coursed through Billy's mind, he felt Martin's bare foot softly touch his own. The warm foot moved back and forth a few times, and then retreated. Billy's heart skipped, and then started beating faster. His penis stiffened in an instant, but he dared not play with it. He looked over at his friend's face, but Martin's eyes were still closed. His face betrayed nothing, but he seemed to be breathing more deeply. Billy slid his own foot over and duplicated the brief caress, staying a bit longer and sliding up Martin's ankle... then withdrew.
His heart was now racing, and his mind was pleading: Please do it again! Please touch me, Martin. Please!
His silent prayer was answered... this time by his best friend's hand, reaching over to stroke Billy's arm lightly. Billy's wordless reply was to rest his own hand on Martin's hip and scoot closer toward him. When Martin did the same, their clothed bodies were now pressed tightly together... their faces so close they could feel each other's warm breath.
"Martin?" whispered Billy.
"Yeah, Billy?"
"This feels good!"
"Yeah!... Would you like to...?" Martin's voice trailed off.
"What?"
"Nothing, Billy. It was a stupid idea."
But Billy was now positive that his friend was feeling the same intensely sexual urges. "Martin... have you ever done sex stuff?"
A pause. "M-maybe.... How 'bout you?"
"I just learned how to make my cum shoot out," said Billy in an excited whisper. "And I spied on these two guys and watched them doing all kinds of sexy things... and I was thinking..."
"Yeah?" breathed Martin, as his hand slid down to Billy's crotch and pressed against the erection through the thick material of his pants.
"And I was... sort of... wondering if you'd like it if we took off all our clothes?"
"YEAH!" giggled Martin, and after a quick flailing of arms and legs they returned to the same embrace, but this time both were completely naked. Now their hands went right to each other's stiff cocks, fondling and exploring. Martin's was a bit longer than Billy's -- maybe 4 1/2 inches -- but more slender. And like Billy's, his crotch was hairless.
"You never really answered my question, Martin.... Have you ever done sex stuff?"
"Shit, YEAH!" gushed the boy, though still in hushed tones. "Around the middle of the summer I figured how to jack off, and then these three guys who live near me said they had a secret sex club and that I could join. They taught me all the stuff!"
"Everything? Like sucking?" asked Billy.
"Uh huh."
"And fucking?"
"Yep. When I joined the club, they said I had to suck each guy's boner and then let him fuck me. While I was doing three in a row like that, I was wondering whether it was worth it. But after the last one was done fucking me, they all three started sucking my boner and my ball-sack and stuff all at once! And I put my dick into each guy's hole, one after the other, and the last one, this older kid named Kwame, told me to keep fucking him until I shot my cum inside him!"
"WOW!!" said Billy in supreme admiration. "Could you... like... teach me those things?"
"Sure! Let's do it right now... But ya gotta be quiet, OK? What do you want to do first?"
"Well... this may sound weird... but have you ever heard of two guys kissing?"
The answer was immediate, as Martin's lips gently touched Billy's. The blond-haired boy was dizzy with emotion as his lips pressed back and his arms hugged Martin ferociously... pressing chest-to-chest and crotch-to-crotch.
"Oh, Martin! I'm so glad you're my friend!" whispered Billy at last. His throat felt so tight with emotion that he could barely speak.
Martin rolled his body so he was on top of Billy, lying between his friend's spread legs. He said "I'm really glad too, Billy!" But other words filled his brain... words he wasn't yet ready to speak aloud. But he tried to send the message to his friend, just by thinking it: 'I LOVE you, Billy! I've loved you for the longest time!"
And it almost seemed as though Billy heard the telepathic message, as their mouths crushed together, tongues entwining. Martin humped his hard boyish erection against Billy's warm body, and the blond boy wrapped his legs around the backs of his friend's sleek thighs.
"Teach me everything, Martin. Show me how I can make you feel good.... I want to do EVERYTHING with you!"
"Wanna suck each other... at the same time?"
"Yes! But how?"
Martin spun around and maneuvered their two bodies so they lay on their sides... their faces only inches from each other's stiff cocks.
"Just do what I do; OK, Billy?"
Martin's tongue flicked against Billy's cock-head, which was half-shrouded by foreskin. In an instant, Martin's own penis felt the wet warmth of Billy's tongue. Martin's hand reached for Billy's soft, hairless ball-sack, and a heartbeat later Billy was fondling Martin's balls. The black boy's fingers migrated to the cock shaft and gently pulled down on the skin, fully exposing the bright-red cock-head. Martin's mouth enveloped his friend's plump erection and began to pleasure it with all his recently-acquired skills. Martin felt Billy's body tense and he heard a long moan... and then he felt his own rigid penis being devoured by Billy's hot mouth.
It was as if the two boys had merged together as a single entity... a sucking machine that operated without the need for conscious thought... giving and receiving pleasure in equal portions. Sucking, licking, nibbling, and fondling with wild abandon.
Billy was in heaven! He had discovered sexuality only days before, and this FAR surpassed anything he had previously experienced. He slurped at the slender black rod with a passion that overwhelmed his senses. He inhaled deeply of the rich earthy musk of Martin's crotch... marveled at the softness of the skin that held Martin's half-grown balls... used his fingers and lips and tongue to worship the foreskin that slid so freely up and down the slender glans.
And just when he thought the physical sensations couldn't get any more intense, Billy felt a finger sliding along the nerve-packed skin at the entrance of his anus... and then push right into the hole! His whole body shuddered and his anal muscle clamped down on the digit. For several long moments, Billy was paralyzed. He couldn't think or move... all he could do was feel. The exquisite pleasure of his erection being sucked was boosted immeasurably by the slender forefinger that slid back and forth, an inch inside this secret place... this place he had never before explored on his own. The feelings were so intense, so new, that Billy let Martin's cock slip from his mouth. When he realized he wasn't keeping up his part, Billy renewed his oral pleasuring with renewed vigor. And he brought his own finger between Martin's ass cheeks and touched the boy's warm trembling pleasure-spot.
"Get some spit on your finger first, Billy," gasped Matin, removing his mouth briefly from his friend's boner. "It makes it slide in better."
Licking his index finger and loading on an extra glob of spit, Billy rubbed it around the puckered circle of flesh, just as Martin had done to him. Then he pressed his fingertip against the hole. But instead of clamping tight, Martin's anus flexed open... letting the finger slip all the way into the hot orifice. Only when the digit was buried to the hilt did Martin's ass muscle clamp around it, practically sucking on the finger as Billy slowly moved it in and out.
Billy tried to exert the same muscle control... to make his anus open to Martin's erotic probing. When he quickly mastered it, the feeling was incredible! Then Martin's finger popped out, and Billy almost complained and begged for its return. But then he felt something different at his bottom-hole. Now there were two slippery fingers rubbing and gently pushing. Billy wanted it desperately... wanted those two fingers to enter him... and he wanted to produce those same feeling for Martin. Lubing his forefinger and middle finger with saliva, Billy slid them against Martin's ass, and then slowly pushed. He heard a muffled "Mmmmmmm" from Martin's cock-filled mouth as both fingers eased in. The hum transmitted a vibration to Billy's penis that made him shiver. And he prepared himself to get the same ass- stretching treatment.
As Martin pressed both fingers slowly against the puckered circle, Billy tightened the muscles in his abdomen and pressed down. The slippery fingers entered, with a twisting cork-screw turn. Billy felt an electric current run through his body. He cried aloud... not in pain, but in exquisite pleasure.
As both boys finger-fucked each other, they each forgot about sucking and concentrated instead on the waves of addictive erotic sensations that radiating from their bottoms.
"Oh, Billy! Let's fuck each other. I want to do it so bad!"
"Fuck each other at the same time?"
"No, silly!" said Martin, giggling at the impossible concept. "I'll fuck your bottom and then you do mine. How do you want to be when we do it?"
"I don't... uh, I never.... You do it how you like, Martin. Teach me how; OK?"
"OK! When I'm doing the fucking, I like face-to-face. And when I'm getting it, I like it from behind.... Hey; do you have any lard or grease or something like that? It's better than spit when you're fucking."
"We bought a jug of cooking oil today. That OK?"
"Perfect! Go get it."
Billy hopped up and went over to the collection of staples that Pa and Sister had purchased earlier. Martin's eyes were glued to his friend's beautifully slender 12-year-old body, lit by the moonlight, and especially to the 4-inch penis that stood up so rigidly it almost touched his belly. Martin couldn't wait to make love to him.
When Billy had found the jug, he pulled the stopper and handed it over. Martin directed Billy to lie on his back, and he knelt between Billy's spread legs. Then Martin poured some oil in his palm, slathered it all over his own cock and Billy's, giving both a couple exciting jack-off strokes. He applied a liberal coating around and inside Billy's ass, starting with one finger probing into the hole, then two fingers. He wiped his hand on the blanket and looked lovingly at his friend.
Martin leaned down and kissed Billy on the mouth, and their bodies merged together in an embrace. The two oiled erections rubbed together in a dance of pleasure that quickly had both boys humping their hips almost convulsively.
"I'm gonna do it now, Billy," he whispered. Martin rose up to a kneeling position and pushed Billy's legs back to expose his ass. "Remember to push out as I enter you, OK?... I'll try to be gentle, but if it hurts, tell me and I'll stop."
"OK. I trust you."
Billy held his legs back as Martin aimed his throbbing penis with his hand and pushed forward. The dark-skinned boy had a slender cock-head, and it entered without resistence. As Martin pushed again, Billy's anus opened fully to him, and the boy-boner slid in to the hilt, riding the slippery oil and entering much faster and deeper than Martin had intended.
"Ohhhh, God, yesss!" gasped Billy. "It's so... It feels like I... oh, Martin... it's wonderful!"
The sturdy black youngster needed no further encouragement. He was so primed that he began humping into Billy's asshole in eager thrusts, filling the white boy's bottom with luscious sensations of fullness and intense stimulation. Billy wrapped his legs around Martin hips, submitting totally to being fucked.
Billy's pleasure was absolute, and he greeted each hard cock stroke with a whimpering words of gratitude. "Oh... yes... oh... do it... yes... yes...."
Martin looked into Billy's face and was overjoyed to see the intense pleasure it exuded... eyes closed, mouth open and gasping. As he felt his climax approaching, Martin leaned down and embraced his best friend and planted his mouth firmly on Billy's lips... their tongues groping hungrily in each other's mouths.
Billy wrapped his arms tightly around Martin's back, overwhelmed by how wonderful this lustful merger of bodies actually felt. Billy's legs encircled Martin's hips, and he flexed them to pull Martin's cock even deeper with each thrust. With only a few more pounding fuck-strokes, Martin gasped as if in pain. The thrill of orgasm surged through his entire being, and he planted his seed deep within Billy's rectum. Then Martin collapsed onto Billy's chest... utterly satisfied.
Martin's exhaustion was extremely short-lived, as he rolled off of Billy and said "Your turn now! Get the oil and lube up your dick some more, and spread it inside my ass like I did to you."
Martin reached for two folded blankets that lay close at hand. He positioned them under his crotch as he lay face-down on the ground. His legs were spread apart, knees pressing down a bit to raise his ass into position. This was the way he liked to be when he was fucked by one of the boys back home.
Billy was so excited that his hands shook as he probed two fingers into the crack of his young friend's perfect young ass. The feel of oiled flesh-on-flesh was so erotic... and when he had lubed his rigid penis and was rubbing it against the slippery hole, his whole body was literally shaking.
"Do it, Billy!... Fuck me good and hard!... Oh please, Billy; fuck me!" murmured the handsome black boy.
Billy's erection pushed against the entrance and was instantly granted admission. As he slid in to the hilt, gliding through the tight greased opening, every nerve in his cock shot pleasure messages to his brain. And although this was his first time, Billy's body knew exactly what to do as he began to fuck... pumping his hips, rhythmically thrusting. His single-minded goal was to reach his cum-shooting climax as quickly as possible, and every instinct urged him to keep thrusting faster... harder.
Martin enjoyed being on the receiving end of his best friend's first fuck, even though he liked it better to get fucked more slowly. But Billy's excitement was contagious, and Martin urged him on, knowing it would be quick. Martin clamped his anal muscle down hard on Billy's stiff penis as it thrust aggressively in and out.
"Yeah, Billy!... Do it!... Fuck my ass hard!... Oh, yes! Do it!"
And it was indeed quick, as Billy's semen pulsed into Martin's clenching ass, and he dropped onto his friend's back... tired, but ecstatic.
Sleep came almost instantly for the two exhausted boys, who now lay face-to-face, arms and legs entwined. But before he drifted off, Billy whispered in Martin's ear: "You know how we're gonna move away from here when we get older? Let's do it together, OK? Let's stay together ALWAYS!"
Martin answered wordlessly, with a long, soft, loving kiss.
Billy's eyes popped open, and it was momentarily disorienting to find himself somewhere other than the floor of his home. A gentle voice was saying "Wake up, sleepyhead. The sun's already started to rise." Billy instantly knew that it was Martin, lying behind him and snuggling up against his back. Martin's arm was draped over Billy's body, and his hand lightly brushed the white-boy's smooth slender chest. Billy took hold of his friend's hand and moved it down... down to his morning erection that throbbed insistently.
"I'd like to play some more, Billy, but I gotta go. My family's going home early. And besides, it would be kind of embarrassing to have your brother see us."
Billy suddenly noticed Pete, sleeping soundly beneath a blanket only a few feet away. God knows how late he came back from partying!
As both boys dressed, they talked quietly. The fairgrounds were beginning to come alive with the rising sun, and people would be shopping soon for the things Billy's family wanted to sell.
"I hope we an get together again REAL soon, Martin. I'll try to get Pa to let me borrow the skiff so I can come visit; OK?"
"That would be great! And Billy?... Bring some of that oil with you when you come!" Both boys giggled and gave each other a discrete kiss, kneeling down behind the counter.
"I'll miss you, Martin.... I... I like you so much!" He almost told Martin that he loved him! But that wouldn't be proper for a boy to tell another boy.... Would it?
Billy set up the display of items that remained to be sold, not waking his brother. As he looked over the inventory, he figured there might be more than a dollar to be made. And as the morning wore on, Pete continued to sleep inside the stall, while Billy stood in front and did his best to sell the tools and the panes of clear window-glass. As the hours went by, he wondered when he'd see Pa and Sister. He had no doubt that they were sleeping off a late-night drunk. But as it got to be mid-afternoon, and Pete had long since awakened, Billy became increasingly concerned. The Trade Fair was finishing up, and most people had already left. He and Pete sold the last of the salvage at bargain prices. When they counted the earnings, it came to 8 and 8... not the dollar he'd hoped for, but when added to what they earned yesterday it was plenty to pay the taxes.
As Billy and Pete started loading the skiff, Sister finally showed up... without Pa. She was disheveled and one of her eyes was swollen and bruised purple.
"What the...." exclaimed Pete.
"Don't ask!... Don't even ask," said Sister, almost in tears. But then the tearful words began to flow as she started to explain... how she and Pa had smoked the wonderfully intoxicating little white crystals long into the evening... how they had rented a flophouse room but had gone back to the whiskey-seller's tent to buy more crystals and a pipe to smoke them in... how Pa had invited two men he barely knew to come back to the room and smoke from his drug stash. And how Pa had then invited the men to....
"Pa let them... have their way with me..." She choked up for a moment, but then continued. "He told them they could do me any way they wanted. And the worst part is... when I was smoking the crystals, I... (sob)... I actually enjoyed it! Even when they were... they both did me at the same time... while Pa watched! And when they were gone and Pa was talking about buying more crystals, I found out he had spent almost all the tax money! I screamed at him and told him how stupid he was, and he...." She brought her hand up to her blackened eye and broke into pitiful sobs.
Just then, Pa strode up, with a look in his eyes that Billy could not read... part crazy, part confused, part angry.
"Listen up!" he said in a stern voice. "I got somethin' important to tell ya. And I don't want no back-talk, 'cause I've made up my mind.... Billy; you're gonna... uh, I had to... what I mean to say is...." Pa's deep shame overwhelmed the veneer of gruffness, and he struggled for words to explain what he was about to do.
A few minutes later....
The big tent was still set up, serving the last customers, and Pa sat at a table with the whiskey seller and an Army officer. Pa wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so he could smoke more crystals. He needed to drown the feelings of guilt. And he wanted to repeat the ecstatic rush of intoxication that washed through his body and brain as soon as the smoke hit his lungs. And he wanted to be back in the loft, caressing Sister's firm young breasts and fucking between her legs all night long.
"The law requires that you fully understand this indenture before you make your mark," said the Commander in a bored tone. "Answer these questions, yes or no. Do you swear that you are the father of Billy Mfume, date of birth March 21, 2191, a resident of Solitude Creek on the Choptank River?"
"Yes," said Pa quietly.
"Do you affirm your intent to sell, for good and sufficient consideration, the absolute custody and control of Billy Mfume from this date until he comes of age on March 21, 2209?"
"Yeah."
"And do you swear that you will not interfere with the ownership rights of the buyer or any subsequent purchaser?"
"Yeah; I swear it," mumbled Pa, as he felt the shame building up in his gut, making him nauseous.
"Make your mark here, and I'll certify the indenture."
The whiskey-seller had already placed 2 silver dollars and 25 portions of crack cocaine on the table. Pa snatched up the package of smoking crystals and stuffed it inside his coat. Then, as he reached for the coins, the army commander caught hold of Pa's wrist. Without a word, the officer picked up the two big silver coins and put them in his pocket. Then he rubbed his fingertips together, motioning for Pa to pay up the final dollar of his tax. When Pa dug into his money pouch and counted out 8 silvers and 20 coppers, there was hardly anything left. The commander took from his coat a small book and made a note. Then he fished out a scrap of paper with the words "receipt for taxes paid" printed on it, and he signed and dated the paper.
"There," he said gruffly. "Be glad we didn't have to come looking for you for the tax money.... Now, if you you'll excuse me...." And he stood up and walked away, taking with him a jug of whiskey that was a tip from the merchant for certifying the indenture.
"Remember," said Pa to the merchant. "You promised you'll treat the boy well and not abuse him. And you'll teach him the selling trade... right?
"Sure, sure! He'll be my little helper in the business. And he'll be a lot happier movin' out of this backwater too. He'll have the adventure of a lifetime. We're headed up Baltimore-way on the schooner this evening, soon as we break down the tent and load up. Your son will do just fine under my protection."
Sister and Pete stood with Billy outside the tent. All three were still crying and hugging each other as Pa came out.
"Someday, Billy, you'll understand that I did this for your own good," lied Pa. He gave his son a quick embrace and then hurried his daughter and older son away to the shoreline, where the skiff was packed and ready to head home.
Billy was nearly cried-out and trembling with fear as the whiskey-seller brought him into the tent. The man clamped a rusty metal slave-collar around his neck and chained him to the main tent pole.
"Don't you want to put him to work, boss?" asked a serving wench, who wore a cloth-covered collar on her own neck.
"Nah. He's not staying. I'm turning him around for a quick profit. Feel free to smack him if he mouths off or cries too loud. We'll keep him here until his family is gone."
The man then strolled across the fairgrounds to the slave merchant's location. The slaver was shouting curses at the slow- moving whitey slave, who was packing up the small tent. Sturdy shackles on the slave's ankles made his movements awkward and even slower.
"Well, did you get him?" asked the slaver hopefully when he saw the whiskey-seller approaching.
"Yup," he said and held up indenture papers. "Do we still have our deal?"
"One gold piece for one golden-haired slave boy, just like I said. Now let's get those papers signed over." And the slave merchant pulled a solid gold coin from his vest pocket and tossed it to the other man. The transfer of indenture papers didn't need government certification, and the transaction was completed in a minute.
"Pretty good business for a trade fair in the middle of nowhere," said the slave merchant. "I sell two low-grade dregs for a decent price, and bring in a 12-year-old Grade-A Prime, perfect for the Norfolk brothel market." He rubbed his hands together greedily. "Now bring my new purchase over here prompt-like. I still need to test out the lad's night skills... if you know what I mean. There's a fancy boy-brothel in Norfolk -- right on the Palace Square, if you're familiar with it -- that pays top dollar for young whities who have a knack for that kind of work. I hear tell the Duke his self patronizes the place and prefers a lad with straw-colored hair and those strange blue-colored eyes."
"Never saw the appeal of whities myself," said the whiskey- seller. "Whenever I see one, all I can think about is the thieving, murderous barbarians out to the West. But city folk have their fashions, and there's no disputing that the whitey girls and lads fetch a premium at the whorehouses. There's this place in Washington City where all the gals have such big...."
As the whiskey-seller rambled on, the slaver's thoughts turned inward... to his splendid new purchase. This had always been the merchant's favorite part of his line of work -- breaking in a newly-bought boy-slave. His mind's eye pictured himself and the young whitey in the tiny ship's cabin where they'd soon be. 'First I'll take off his shirt,' he thought to himself. 'Then I'll tell him to clasp his hands behind his neck, and I'll run my his hands over the his smooth shoulders and chest and arms... suck on his tiny nipples and make them stand out stiff... then I'll slowly lower the lad's trousers... inch then down ever so slowly and gauge the look in his eyes as his parts are exposed... ah, then I'll fondle his boyish cock, feeling it rise up beneath my fingers... oh, yes!... I love how every boy is so wonderfully different; so unique in his pleasure parts... and I DO hope he's hairless... then I'll pull the naked lad face-down across my lap, feeling his little boner pressing against my thigh... hold him firmly, feel him squirm on my lap as I run my hand over the soft flesh of his round bottom... and then raise my hand up high over that little up-raised ass and....'
"Ahem..." said the whiskey-seller with a little throat-clearing cough. "I suppose I'll go get the boy now."
The slaver retreated from his fantasy in an instant. He blushed and gave an embarrassed laugh as he adjusted the stiff erection inside his trousers.
"Yes... of course... bring him at once." He watched the whiskey- seller walk off.
The slaver went over to a wooden trunk and looked through the assortment of metal collars of different sizes and designs. He pulled out a small one that was covered in fine cloth of a dark blue. The perfect look for a brothel boy! And then he picked up one of his new brass padlocks. Looking down at the lock, the man gave a little chuckle. Then he laughed out loud at the wonderful irony.
End of Part 1