This story contains graphic but completely fictional depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage boys and/or girls, and even nekkid women show up now and then If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.
Seaward Plantation
War clouds chapter four
Mornings were always a favorite time for Mark Appleby. The air was fresh, the light was new, and everything seemed possible. He needed that feeling this morning. Gently disentangling himself from Troy's arms, he slipped out of bed, naked, to stand at his window. He could just make out some patches of sea through the leaves, he thought. The trees had grown since his arrival on Seaward eleven years ago and now hid the view even as they protected the house from the wind.
A deep sigh shook Appleby's body as he looked out. No armed forces from the mainland had landed in the night, so perhaps Marcus's escapade of the day before, stowing away on board the Harmony and then wandering through town, had not done any harm. In the morning light it seemed less like the end of the world than it had yesterday, although still quite a serious matter. But Appleby knew from his own childhood memories that an obsession once conceived in the mind of a child was difficult to turn away, and he feared for the future. The future of the island, state, and nation were fearful as well. Doing a quick calculation he realized that it was March 1, 1861--in three more days Abraham Lincoln would be inaugurated as president, and what then?
These musings were interrupted by a soft sound at the doorway. "Good morning," whispered Bundit, evidently just arisen from bed, standing naked in the doorway. The Siamese man looked over at Troy, still asleep on the bed, then back at Appleby with a smile. When Appleby smiled back, he stepped quietly into the room and up to the white man's side. Bundit stretched an arm around Appleby's waist and leaned his head into his side. Appleby tucked him in under his arm, burying his face in the Siamese man's thick, black wings of hair.
"Master Mark... I wanted to say I'm really sorry about Marcus," he whispered. "I didn't know he was going to go, I would never have encouraged him to do that."
"Oh, I know that Bundit, I know. I don't blame you at all. I know why you are restless on the island. And Marcus.... I suppose all the boys and some of the girls will feel the way he does, wanting to see the world beyond Seaward. But Bundit... he can't go, he just can't. He would be taken, you know that," Appleby whispered urgently.
"Well.... I think he is too young to go now. But master, some day.... if he is really free, he has to be free to take chances. He has to be free to fail. You... we... have to let him go if he is free, master."
Appleby squeezed Bundit in tighter, massaging his shoulder as the Siamese man hugged back, his arm around Appleby's middle. "I don't know, Bundit, I don't know. How can he be free to judge if he doesn't really know what it is that he is judging about? He thought it was a grand lark to strut around passing as white in Charleston yesterday. I think maybe he did not go by the slave markets, though. You know Bundit... I could never figure out a way to free Portia and Cassius legally without raising lawyer Smith's suspicions. That means that they are still legally slaves.... and then so are Marcus... and Wat."
Bundit's eyes flashed at that, and he became thoughtful. If he had known that dismal fact, he was only now facing its full implications. Even though all the adults loved and cared for all the children on Seaward as parents, those with biological ties could not help but feel a little extra connection.... and Wat was surely Bundit's son. "I had not thought of that, I guess," said Bundit. Then he shook himself. "I don't know... maybe you are right. It is so hard to know what to do."
The two smiled at each other for a while. Then Bundit swallowed hard and continued in a whisper. "But master.... I have decided what I must do for myself. I need to go see the world again, master. I promise I will come back. Seaward is my home now. Wat.... Wat is special to me, as Marcus is to you... you know, master. But I must go to sea again for just a little while. Maybe just to sign on with a merchantman going up the coast or to the islands and back, just a few months. If there is a war coming, then I need to do it soon while I still can. And master... maybe if I am gone away for a while Marcus will not think about wandering quite so much."
Appleby looked deep into Bundit's lovely, almond shaped, dark eyes. He turned to face him and scooped him into himself with a two armed hug, planting a kiss on his forehead, then held his shoulders as he looked at him again. He saw determination in those eyes as well as sorrow. For a moment he thought that he should persuade the others to join him in simply forbidding Bundit to go... the Siamese man would need the help of others to get to Charleston, after all. But the truth of what Bundit had said earlier banished that thought right away. He loved the Siamese man so much that he would agree with his desire to go, even though he was sure Bundit was headed for disaster. Appleby just nodded, then pulled Bundit in tight again.
"Are the two of you going to share any of that?" asked a sleepy voice from the bed. Appleby and Bundit, startled, turned to look at Troy, who was propped up on an elbow in the bed. Looking back at each other, they realized they were both naked, morning semi-erections pressing against each other--but they truly had not noticed in the serious emotions of the moment. "Maybe... maybe you should tell Troy, too," said Appleby.
His half-hard penis bobbing, Bundit walked over and sat by the side of the bed, next to Troy. "Troy, I... I was telling Master Mark that I feel I have to go. I have to go to sea again. I promise to be back... how could I not come back?.... but I need to go."
Troy looked at him seriously, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Really, truly?" he asked? Bundit nodded. "Today?" Bundit shook his head and smiled, replying, "No, but soon." Troy nodded and thought for a moment, then said, "Alright.... then you have time this morning to do this," and grabbing the Siamese man in both arms he rolled him over onto the bed as both of them laughed softly. Troy kicked down the sheets to reveal his own morning erection. He looked at Appleby, winked and nodded, and the white man stepped up to the bed and slid onto the other side of Bundit.
Bundit lay on his back in the middle, a white man and a black man on either side, lying on their sides facing him. Appleby rubbed gentle circles on Bundit's belly, while Troy rubbed his chest, then ran his hands through his hair and lightly kissed his forehead, eyelids, nose, and rosebud lips. "Mmmm... Bundit.... When you go what will we do when we want to run our fingers through thick black hair like this," asked Troy, as he did so, "or see beautiful eyes shaped like these," as he kissed them, "or such a pink, full mouth as this," as he planted his own luscious dark plum lips over Bundit's. At that point the Asian could only sigh and kiss back, wrapping his own arms around Troy's back as he turned on his side to face the strong black man. He ran his tan and golden fingers through Troy's thick skullcap of kinky hair, sucking the black man's full lips and then giving his own ripe mouth to be kissed, tongued, and sucked. Arms around each other, they pulled their bodies in tight as their penises, now stiffly erect and pointing straight up in alignment with their bellies, batted and slid together.
Appleby had not felt the least bit left out, in fact the sight of the black and the Asian man coupling in this way was powerfully exciting to him. He pulled himself into Bundit's back, his erect penis sliding in its own track of precum between the Siamese man's ass cheeks. Troy's hands slid down between his belly and Bundit's back, while his own white hands slid in between his friends' bellies, tweaking nipples and massaging pads of muscles. Sliding up and down on Bundit's belly, Appleby encountered the black and the Asian dicks, tight together, leaking a film of precum. Grasping both cockheads in his hand, he squeezed the together, then encircling them as much as possible he slid his hand up and down. Troy's longer, larger dick pushed up above Bundit's penis as Appleby's hands flew. Appleby shifted to put the slick head of his own dick against Bundit's anus. He pushed the slightest bit into the unlubricated hole and then held his dick there as it oozed precum into the Asian asshole. Bundit moaned, his mouth covered with Troy's large, plum lips, but did not object.
Breathing from all three became heavier, hands scrabbling and tugging on backs, shoulders, clenching ass muscles. Appleby maintained a steady pressure on Bundit's hole, oiling it with his flow of clear slime. Bundit threw his top leg over Troy's hip. He could pull Troy's groin even tighter into his own now, but he also opened up his own ass for Appleby's conquest. The white man's stiff, throbbing rod pressed even tighter now, and Appleby pressed into the open area around the pink Asian asshole. His dickhead, lubricating its own way, pushed and pushed...then popped into the hole as Bundit relaxed. The Siamese moaned again, still unable to speak with Troy's tongue in his mouth. Appleby paused, but his hand in between the black and Asian men was sliding up and down, squeezing the heads of their cocks in its passage. As soon as Bundit ceased moaning, Appleby began pushing again, and in slow stages had as much of his stiff red cock as possible landed inside the Asian man with no other lubrication than his own copious flow of precum.
Appleby buried his face in the thick, jet black wings of the Asian man's hair, then shifted to nuzzle his ear through the hair, to bite the ear and neck, leaving red shadows on the persimmon colored skin. One hand around the joined dicks between Bundit and Troy, Appleby reached his other hand up over Bundit to caress the top of Troy's head, enjoying the thick, dense, scratchy texture of his kinky hair, rubbing through the tight, tiny curls with sheer enjoyment. Bundit and Troy were now bucking and clenching their hips in time to Appleby's pumping, while Appleby was pounding Bundit's ass as hard as he could lying on his side. The Asian and black man remained locked at the lips, sharing breath through their noses, sharing tongues and spit.
Bundit came first, moaning quite loudly, snorting fiercely through his nose. With no space to really pump his hips, he simply clenched his ass tightly, pulling himself into Troy, and spewed out his cum in between his own tan and gold belly and chest and Troy's dark chocolate torso. The tight, sustained contraction of his bottom as he pushed his sperm out put Appleby over the edge. The white man cried out and, pulling himself into the tangle of bodies, pushed his penis into Bundit and held it, shooting ropes of cum up into the Asian butt. The white and the Asian man struggled like that for a minute, gasping for breath, pushing their semen out-- and then Troy came. Breaking off from Bundit's mouth he roared and pushed up into the gold and brown chest of the Asian man, his longer and larger penis sending spurts of semen up between the two to splash against his and Bundit's necks and chins. Semen flowed from his pulsing dick to mix with Bundit's in the warm space between their smooth, sliding skins.
Ragged, seething breath slowly returned to normal. Hands slid over skin and caressed faces, smiles and whispers passed from one to another. "Now," said Troy softly, "won't you miss that?" Bundit chuckled softly. "Yes, I will. I will miss you, and master, and everybody. I will miss Wat and the other children. But.... I will be back." The three men hugged each other tight, seemingly unwilling to let go out of fear for a larger letting-go soon to come. But the moment passed and the sun was up, and time to begin the day.
Sounds of splashing from downstairs indicated the start of bath time for those who bathed in the mornings. The three men tidied up the room, agreeing to slip downstairs to clean themselves as they could. At the moment it sounded as if Apple, Rain, and Moss were all in there together. Athena's exasperated voice could be heard over the splashing and giggling. That noise eventually passed, so Troy slipped downstairs with his clothing to bathe and follow Athena to their cabin. Appleby and Bundit sat sociably on the edge of Appleby's bed, still naked, discussing Bundit's plans and hopes.
In a few minutes Troy shouted up the stairs that he was done. Bundit encouraged Appleby to go next, so he walked down the hallway, naked. The other bedroom doors were closed; Cassius, Hector, and the twins were either asleep, enjoying an intimate moment, or up and about early. Going down the stairs and into the bath room, Appleby pumped another tub full and added some hot water from the kettle on the small stove. Sinking into the warm water, he began lathering and scrubbing. The slamming sound of a door to the verandah could be heard, then in the hallway the drumming of feet. Wat pelted headlong into the bath room clutching a towel and change of clothing.
"Oh! Hi, Papa Mark!" he said cheerily, a sunny smile crinkling up his almond eyes, his mop of raven black, loose curls bouncing from his own internal energy. "Mama said Marcus and I have to take a bath!" he declared, and with no further ceremony shed his clothes and approached the tub. "May I get in, too, Papa?" he asked. Nearly done, Appleby smiled at the boy and welcomed him in. Over the side and into the water the boy slid, settling in with his back to Appleby.
The white man gently scrubbed the boy's back, admiring the light brown and golden tone of his skin, now shining with water. On an island of many colors, features, and hair textures, Wat was certainly the most diverse, a glorious and beautiful mix of African, white, and Siamese. Despite--or because of?--having enjoyed sex with the boy's father in the last half hour, Appleby's penis began to swell again. The way the squirming boy wriggled back against his groin did not help matters. The slamming of the verandah door again broke the spell, however. More drumming of feet, and Marcus burst into the bath room
"Oh, you started!" he said, looking at Wat. Then, "Oh! Hello, Papa Mark," he said, contritely hanging his head. Appleby beckoned him to come close. The man reached his wet, soapy arm out and hugged the boy to him as a token of forgiveness for his behavior of the day before. "Come on in, Marcus," he said with a smile, "I'm just getting out." The boy was quicker than he was, though, and soon bared his light tan skin entirely. Appleby noticed the presence of no more than four or five black, snaking pubic hairs above Marcus's penis; the lad must be sliding along into puberty. He slid into the tub between Wat and Appleby. The contact with the water-slick, firm young bodies was pleasurable for Appleby, but he knew he should break this off before anything more dramatic happened--there was a lot to do around the island today. He rose from the water, his reddish penis half-erect. The boys giggled as they saw it, squirming around in the tub. Wat reached up and gave it a light squeeze purely out of curiosity, then smiled at the "Papa" and let go. Appleby stepped out of the tub, smiling back at the boys, and dried off. He was just leaving the bath room, naked, to go up the stairs, when Portia came down the hall. She gave his body a frank and appreciative stare- -she and the white man had shared many intimacies and held no secrets from each other.
"They are both in the tub," he told her, kissing her lightly on the lips, then smiling back at her walked up the stairs. She returned the smile and went in to the bath room. A few minutes later he was dressed and back down the stairs, where he found Bundit ensconced in the tub even as Portia was drying off the boys and getting them dressed.
A quick breakfast was shared with Bundit, who came into the dining room a few minutes later, and then the two men were off to the new bath room project. They found that the other men were already there, laying a new floor and framing up the walls. As they worked, Bundit casually shared his plans to be off to sea, an announcement that was met with sorrow by all, but good wishes for his safe traveling and speedy return. When pressed as to when he would go, he was noncommittal, since he wanted to do his part to prepare Seaward for the coming troubles.
As the men were working on the new bath room, they heard the sound of a ship's whistle coming from the western side of the island. The usual mix of curiosity, fear, and hope spread through every resident of the island. Especially during these troubled times, visitors could not but be perceived as a threat. But news or goods from the mainland or from far away parts were always a treat. Appleby suspected it was the latter. Taking just Pan and Bacchus with him to investigate, he led the way across the lawn and meadow and down to the pier. On the way, nine year old Rain and the eight year old twins, Frederick and Douglass, joined them, running ahead and now behind, in and out of the party. Appleby momentarily had a notion to send them back in case there were some sort of danger on the shore, but the children seemed so free and happy that he did not have the heart to do it.
Standing just off the island was a steam vessel, a sort of ungainly looking tug with stern paddles. She was pushing ahead of her a kind of raft with low sides, a floating rectangular box. On the raft was a high, rounded pile covered with tarpaulins.
"Oh!" exclaimed Appleby, "it's from one of yesterday's orders. The Harmony will be very pleased," he said mysteriously. Pan and Bacchus looked curiously at Appleby, then smiled and shrugged at each other. "How can a ship be happy, Papa Mark?" asked Douglass. "Wait, you'll see," he replied. Waving to the vessel, Appleby indicated where the raft was wanted. Slowly, slowly, the vessel chugged forward, nudging the raft carefully toward the pier. The last few yards the ponderous raft floated toward the pier and it seemed as if its weight might crush it--then Appleby did send the three children back off of the pier and to the shore. But the crew of the vessel had the situation under control: they tightened ropes still holding the raft to slow its progress. At last, expertly managed, the raft slowly drifted into the pier with a bump and Appleby, Pan, and Bacchus secured it to the wooden uprights. They waved to the steam vessel which whistled in response and then reversed its paddles to turn around and return to Charleston.
Leaping onto the raft, Appleby untied a corner of the tarps covering the load and with a flourish whisked it back revealing--a great pile of coal! "This should last us a good, long time; it is fuel for the Harmony's boilers," he said. The men and children nodded their approval, but after all, it was hardly an exciting delivery!
Their disappointment would be relieved over the next few days, however, as more supplies began arriving from the mainland. Now empowered to fortify the island, Appleby was able to order large supplies of powder and shot to be delivered directly from Charleston, which it was. Other vessels brought out staple supplies such as grains, cloth, hardware, and other building materials. The Harmony and the Hesperus were both pressed into service to go out and be loaded from the visiting ships, returning to the pier laden with cargo that the people of Seaward carried back up to storage barns. Powder and shot was stored in the stone armories until they could hold no more.
News also came from the mainland, on the mail boat and by way of gossip with the crews of the visiting cargo ships. Talk of secession was everywhere. Many of the southern states had already formed a "confederacy" in December of 1860, and resolutions of secession and nullification had been passed as recently as the previous month, February of the current year--but so far no real, violent break among the States had occurred, so far as they knew. There was preparation for war on every side, and the subject certainly preoccupied public attention in the South.
Such was the atmosphere on Seaward as its people intensified preparations that had been underway since shortly after Appleby had arrived on the island. Participating fully in the work, Bundit had not talked of departing for a few weeks, and Appleby was hoping that the thought had left his mind. However, he still occasionally found Bundit on the cemetery hill, looking out to sea, and--worse--found Marcus sitting with him.
Two deliveries brought home, again, the seriousness of their situation. On one trip into Charleston, the Harmony came back with a load of crates that Appleby took possession of at a cargo office in the port. His face a mixture of seriousness and delight in a surprise, Appleby would not reveal the contents to Troy and Priam until the Harmony had returned to the island and the crates were carried up to the storage barn. As the people of the island gathered round, Appleby began opening the crates one by one. From one he pulled a gun: a shoulder arm, longer than a pistol but not as long as the muskets they were used to.
"My friends, behold! A Sharps New Model carbine. No more having to ram powder, ball, and wadding down the barrel of a musket. These," he said, breaking open the rifle near the trigger, to the surprise of the group, "shoot these," he continued, pulling from another crate an odd looking packet. "These are linen 'cartridges,' they contain all the powder and a bullet. The claim is that a skilled marksman can fire ten rounds a minute with these." Everybody looked at each other in astonishment. They were all quite proficient with the muskets and shotguns that were the previous armament for the island, but ten rounds a minute! It was unheard of. "And my friends," continued Appleby, "we WILL all become skilled marksmen with them." The group nodded its determined agreement.
"And these," he said, proceeding to another crate, "is the new Smith & Wesson model 2 tip up revolver. The latest thing. A handheld pistol, as you can see, firing this," and here he reached into another crate to bring out another design of cartridge, metal this time. "For close-in fighting, should it ever come to that." The group looked serious at the thought. "Well, my friends, these are the very latest things, and I assure you better than the South Carolina militia will have. They will give us some advantage--but we hope that it never comes to that." Everyone heartily agreed.
It was during this busy period that Marcus turned eleven, briefly to be "the same age" as Apple. Birthdays were celebrated quietly on Seaward, and this was no exception. Appleby took the boy aside and had an earnest talk with him about responsibility, the need to behave in ways commensurate with his new age. Marcus nodded gravely, but Appleby wondered whether he were preaching to the air.
About a week after the small arms arrived, Seaward's air was disturbed by another ship's whistle off of the western shore. Appleby had an idea of what it was, and gathered all the men of the island to come with him. Most of the children and some of the women came as well. Arriving at the pier, a large merchantman stood off the shore, and a crane on the deck was in the process of being put to working order. Appleby asked that the Harmony's boiler be fired up immediately. As soon as it was ready it made its way out to the ship and had lowered onto its deck a cannon. Returning to the pier, the cannon was unloaded with some difficulty onto the pier, and then as people (and a donkey in harness) hauled it up the pier and onto the land, the Harmony returned--twice more, for a total of three.
The whole day was spent in situating these formidable weapons where they would do the most good. They were twelve- pounders, as was the small cannon that could be mounted on the deck of the Harmony, so that the same shot could be used interchangeably. Anything larger would be too difficult to move by the efforts of man and beast, which was all they had on Seaward. Also, although not as powerful as a larger twenty-four pound or thirty-two pound cannon would be, the twelve-pounders would have adequate range to deter hostile forces attempting to land. But where to put them?
Priam wondered aloud whether one each should be placed on the northern, southern, and western sides of the island; the east was naturally guarded by rocks and reefs, now marked by buoys. Bundit had a different suggestion: "Priam... Master Mark.... I suggest that we put all three of the cannon here on the western side. Then let us take some of the extra buoys we have in storage and anchor them around the northern and southern tips of the island."
"But Bundit, there are no dangerous rocks on the northern and southern tips," objected Troy.
The Siamese man smiled broadly and winked. "I know that. You know that. Do they," he said, nodding toward the mainland, "know that? If you were captain of a ship, would you risk running by a buoy that might mark a reef? I would not. If we can fool people into letting 'nature' defend three sides of Seaward, the cannon can defend the third, western side." Everyone saw the sense in this, and worked out a plan to achieve it. The cannon were hauled inland far enough to be on somewhat elevated ground, and were pointed westward, covering the approaches to the pier. They were still within sight of one another, however, until covered over with camouflaging branches and canvas. In the end, after some work, three formidable cannon pointed out toward Charleston on the western side of Seaward, while buoys signaling danger--whether truthfully or not--ringed all other approaches to the island.
It had long been the practice at Seaward to engage in musket and shotgun practice during thunderstorms. Now the group began practicing with their new carbines and pistols as well, and during the first really spectacular thunderstorm they uncovered the cannon. All adults were well trained on using the small twelve-pounder on board the Harmony, so the principles they had learned were easily adaptable to using the new shore batteries. Wrapping their heads with cloth so as to cover and protect their ears, the community had soon mastered the cannons and were learning techniques of accuracy. March of 1861 ended, April rolled around, and the uneasy land watched and waited to see what would transpire. Word from the mainland was that federal forces in the area had withdrawn from some of the forts and facilities around Charleston and were concentrating their efforts in Fort Sumter, sitting in the middle of the harbor, despite its somewhat unfinished condition.
During all these preparations, the adults were careful to keep the children fully informed of the hopes and perils of Seaward. In one sense it was easy to remain a child for a long time on Seaward--witness Pan's and Bacchus's spirits that were, in the healthiest possible ways, childlike. On the other hand, the freedom that children were given was coupled with a need to mature and accept responsibility. Different adults reacted to the dilemma in different ways. Appleby knew that he often erred on the side of not letting go, of keeping a tighter tether on the children than he should--although of course, Marcus's longing to leave the island was still there as a reminder of what could happen if children were given entirely free rein.
One incident during this period of preparation highlighted the difficulties Appleby was having with balancing the demands of freedom and control concerning the children. He had entered the loft of the storage barn so as to take inventory of some of their stock, in preparation for a trip to Charleston. Walking soundlessly on the sturdy floor, he could hear voices from the ground floor below him. Locating the general area of the sound, he saw some small gaps between the thick floor boards through which he could look down below and yet not be seen. Out of curiosity he stretched out on the floor of the loft and put his eye to one of these gaps. What he saw affected him strongly.
Two sisters were just slipping off their simple dresses: nearly-twelve-year-old Apple and her sister, nine year old Rain. The older girl strongly resembled her Aunt Helen, and Appleby's mind returned in a flash to their first intimate encounter on the eastern shore of Seaward when Helen was about the same age. Apple's skin was a luxurious dark chocolate. Small, orange sized breasts were mounded on a muscular chest. Her body was trim, with that beautiful African flow of long and rounded muscles. The beginnings of a swelling of her pelvis gave a more feminine contour to her high, rounded bottom. A tiny patch of kinky hair sat above the triangle between her thighs. Jet black hair in intricate braids hung down to her shoulders. Thinking of that first experience years ago with Helen, who swam around him in the sea and then grasped his penis in pleasure and curiosity, Appleby's organ began to swell.
Rain's body was more boyish. Only the area just around her dark brown nipples was beginning to swell, pushing up small points of flesh. Her hair, which was in loose black curls, and her light milk chocolate color on flawless, smooth skin made it clear that Cassius was her biological father. Her body was boyish--that of a boy's without a penis--a thin tube of sculpted muscular flesh with a nicely rounded bottom.
Then Appleby's attention was drawn, as he shifted position to gaze through the gap in the floor, to the girls' companions: his own son Marcus and his brother, Bundit's son Wat! The boys had been watching the sisters undress and now began to do so themselves, perhaps with a little bit of shy reluctance. Nakedness was nothing new to the children of the island, but this nakedness clearly portended a more intimate encounter--for the first time? Probably not-- physical freedom was the norm on the island, and everyone was fully aware of the encounters that their friends had with one another.
Grinning at one another, the four stood regarding each others' physical perfection for a moment. Appleby could see Marcus's mop of light brown curls and Wat's similarly shaped head of jet black curls. His groin continued to swell as he drank in the smooth flawless skin of each boy, Marcus's light tan and Wat's gold and medium brown. Already each boy sported a stiff little erection, of course with Marcus's being more prominent. The four admired each other for a moment--with girls admiring girls and boys admiring boys as much as the other way around--and then, still standing, merged into a knot of hugs, tentative kisses, and gentle fondlings.
Appleby rolled over on his back, a tangle of emotions in his chest. The Bostonian parent in him wanted to rush right down and tell the children to behave. He realized that the presence in the group of his own flesh, Marcus, intensified that feeling. But the freedom and license everyone enjoyed on Seaward reminded him that the children were likewise free to do as they wished. And... undeniably, his own flesh responded to the unfolding scene below. Was it wrong to admire such physical beauty and the forces of nature that moved through them? Was it right to deny the evidence of that force of nature in himself? Unable to resist, he rolled back over, his erection now straining within his trousers, to see what developed.
Somewhat to his surprise, he saw that the girls were standing by each other, gently and tentatively exploring each other's vaginas with fingers--fingers either moistened by their own spit or, in Apple's case, by a natural, light flow of fluids. The boys were doing likewise: lying on the floor beside the girls, they were lying with faces to genitals, gently exploring each others' penises and tight little ballsacks. Appleby could see that Marcus's medium brown scrotum was larger and more filled than Wat's dark little package. Could it be that he was able by now to make semen? Pulling and rubbing each other's penises inexpertly, the boys tentatively and then enthusiastically swallowed up those cocks, sucking and bobbing their heads, light brown or jet black curls bouncing.
Appleby no longer knew whether it was wrong or not--he pulled his own throbbing member out of his trousers and began rubbing it, a string of precum flowing from it onto the floor of the loft. Down below, the youngsters had shifted. Apple lay down beside Wat, stretching her dark chocolate body out next to his chocolate and honey flesh. The two grappled, exploring the feel of touch. Then they kissed, inexpertly, lightly at first and then with greater effort if not greater skill. Meanwhile, Rain had rolled Marcus onto his back. Sitting on top of his stiff little penis, she moved her hips back and forth to make his cock slide against her clitoris. He smiled up at her and moved his hands up and down on her milk chocolate belly, gently tweaking her protuberant, pointed nipples. Then in a flash, Rain switched around and lowered her boyish crotch over Marcus's face while she instantly bent over his wooden penis, taking it into her mouth. Appleby could hear a gasp of surprise from Marcus--was this a new position for him, perhaps even one he had not previously witnessed? Evidently his surprise was overcome by the passion of the moment, for Appleby could see his boyish arms wrap around the slim, even more boyish hips and rounded bottom of Rain. The girl's pelvis began rolling and circling ever so slightly in response to whatever it was that Marcus's lips and tongue were doing below.
Appleby's hand increased the pressure and speed with which he was pumping his own organ. Then the four below reorganized themselves. Rain scrambled over next to Wat, while Apple rolled over onto her back next to Marcus and, reaching over, tugged at his shoulder to pull him on top of her. Wat, observing his brother's progress, followed suit, tentatively copying his actions. Both girls spread their legs revealing vaginas now moistened internally or by saliva. The boys positioned themselves side by side between the girls' legs, pressing their penises into place, and pushed. Appleby could hear light gasps from the girls, but this was probably not their first time to receive a boy in this way, and Marcus and Wat were soon fully inserted, as far as the short lengths of their penises would allow.
The boys' hips now began to buck and thrash in and out as they opened this new chapter of the primer on sexual pleasure that we all learn to read. Slipping out of their partners repeatedly, changing positions and rhythms as they explored the results of each new combination, all four were gasping and giggling alternately. Rain and Wat especially looked to their older sibling for cues--cues which Marcus and Apple were scarcely more expert to provide. Then Appleby could hear a change in Marcus's voice... "uhn, uhn, uhn," in a rhythmic guttural grunting. At the same time a look of concentration came into Apple's eyes, which grew wider as her full lips also opened in an "O." Wat, pistoning quickly in and out of Rain, and Rain herself, looked to their siblings, aware that the moment was at hand. Up in the loft, Appleby could sense his own orgasm approaching as his hand slid up and down his rampant penis.
Marcus cried out in a high, boyish voice, pushing his penis into Apple, quivering and shaking, breathing rapidly. At the same time Apple writhed, a look of surprise in her eyes, as she called out "Oh! Oh!" while a wave of pleasure flowed through her. It was very quick for both, and then Marcus slumped forward onto her. Wat had stopped pumping entirely, he and Rain watching the spectacle intently. Appleby guessed that the younger boy and girl were not going to climax, and were finding vicarious pleasure in watching their siblings. Lying on top of Apple for just a moment, Marcus pulled out quickly and rolled off to the side, his stiff reddish brown penis wagging in the air--and trailing a line of silver from Appleby's vagina! Wat saw it first, shouting "Oooo, look!" He and Rain scrambled around to see this discharge--could it have been a first for Marcus?-- while the boy himself looked in wonder at his own productive organ, a huge smile of pride on his face. Apple put her fingers into her vagina and then pulled them back out, showing a glistening fluid on them. All four admired this phenomenon for a while, and then, tired and replete, folded into each other in a tangle, hugging and clutching, still breathing heavily, a tight, still knot of many hues.
At that moment Appleby's own orgasm arrived. Stifling the urge to cry out, his torso clenched and his hip muscles squeezed as his hand milked out ropes of semen from his rampant penis. Slowing his hand down, he saw the white juice as it flowed onto the floor of the loft. Looking down through the gap in the floor, he saw the children were still, floating on their own clouds of peace and content. His ecstasy having passed, Appleby pushed his penis back into his trousers, which he closed, and then took one last look down below.
The tangled knot of young bodies was still there, resting quietly, loose curls entangled with woolly tufts and tight braids, dark chocolate on milk chocolate on golden chocolate on light coffee. Then Appleby saw a quick flash.... and then another. Something was slowly dropping down below.... dropping from above. It was--could it be?--white? A warm drop splashed onto Apple's dark skin, then a few small drops peppered Wat's golden brown back. Twisting around, Appleby saw what it was. If there was a gap for him to look through then there was likewise a gap for fluid to leak through, and the small pond of semen he had discharged was now draining through just such a gap onto the still young bodies below. He quickly looked back down--they were resting still, but how long could it be before they noticed the small, warm drops raining here and there? As quickly as quiet would allow, Appleby sprang to his feet. Down the ladder he crept to land soundlessly on the floor of the barn below. He was just slipping out the door as he heard first one, then another, then four cries of surprise from farther into the barn. Gasps of astonishment became interspersed with giggles and whoops. Appleby didn't know whether to laugh or to be embarrassed. The children would think that some strange gift from the gods was being granted to them from above--although they would surely know what the nectar was! This confusion added to his tangle of emotions, and he slipped out of the barn.
Walking through the grounds of Seaward to clear his thoughts, Appleby came upon the vegetable plot. There he found Pan and Bacchus, the twenty-four year olds shirtless, their sweat-slicked caramel brown skin shining in the sun as they hoed and weeded the long rows of sprouting vegetables. Greeting Appleby with smiles and waves, they stepped out of the garden to lay their tools down. The three settled on a nearby bench, Appleby in the middle, one strong honey-brown arm from each of the twins around his shoulders. His tangle of emotions began to unravel in the soothing presence of the brightness that Pan and Bacchus perpetually radiated. They talked of the day's activities, of plans for the future, of the weather.
A gap in the conversation ensued, as each black man continued to caress the white man around his shoulders. Appleby's thoughts returned to his recent musings. He felt he needed some advice, another perspective.
"Pan, Bacchus.... do you remember that first night I was here on Seaward?"
"Oh, yes, I sure do," said Pan, "I think about it often. It was so nice.... I was the first one you kissed on Seaward, Master Mark!" he said with pride. "But I was the first one to come with you--on you," interjected Bacchus, grinning, "and the first to make you come"-- "and I was the first to come in Master Mark's mouth" replied Pan. All three were laughing by then, and Appleby closed the "contest" by saying "Alright, alright, you were both 'first!'" He patted them both on their muscular thighs as the three sat tightly, companionably together.
"But Pan, Bacchus.... you were so young. You were both thirteen. Was--was that wrong? Should I have not touched you at that age? Should I have kept you from doing that, even if you wanted to?"
The twins looked at each other and then at Appleby, a look of puzzlement on their faces. They were trying to understand the question. Eventually Bacchus spoke. "Master... you didn't make us do anything, did you?"
"No. But were you old enough to know what you were doing?"
"If we had said 'no,' or tried to get away, would you have let us?--even though we were still your slaves then?"
"Of course I would never have forced you, Bacchus, you know that."
"Well, sure we do," Pan added. "Master... I just loved what we did that night. I loved you, too, even then, as I love you now. It was--it was natural, master."
"Sure," added Bacchus. "I think... I think we could be ourselves with you, and you could let us do that. You.... you could see that we knew what we wanted even though we were thirteen." Pan nodded agreement. "And we could see what you wanted. I don't know... I felt really proud to be able to give a grown-up something like that. Maybe... maybe WE let YOU do all of that!" Pan nodded again.
Appleby nodded, but felt he had to face, for his own sake, the next question. "So... so it was right because I gave you both love and freedom? Both physical pleasure and the freedom to join me or not join me? That was important to you at thirteen?" The twins nodded, smiling brilliantly, then each laid his head of glorious springs and coils on the white man's shoulder. Their love rolled over him like a healing balm. But he had to press on.
"Pan, Bacchus... you know Bundit will be leaving Seaward. Marcus says he wants to go also. Should I let.... should WE let him?" Both heads came up and they looked at Appleby. A long moment of thought passed.
"Oh... oh, yeah. I don't know, master," said Pan. Bacchus nodded, whispering "I don't know." Pan continued. "He's eleven, just barely, not thirteen." More moments of thought passed. Bacchus added: "And he wants to go into the mainland. We just wanted to go into your mouth!" All three roared with laughter at that, but seriousness soon returned. "It's a hard decision, master," added Pan. "You wouldn't give a baby freedom to toddle into the ocean."
"So," said Appleby, "I guess the question is, is Marcus still a baby? and is the mainland a comfortable bed, or is it the stormy sea?" Pan and Bacchus nodded thoughtfully. Sitting there quietly on the bench in the cooling breeze of the afternoon, the three pondered the weighty issue in silence.