This story contains graphic but completely fictional depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage boys. 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
Chapter four
Mark Appleby floated down from a dreamless sleep. He thought of the sea as he spiraled to earth, the sea washing in waves on the shore. The sound of waves became louder as he drifted closer to consciousness. In a confused state of half-wakefulness, he wondered if he were once again by the sea with Hector, the beautiful man-boy slave with whom he had spent the previous, passionate afternoon. But how could that be? For he was in bed in his home at Seaward Plantation.
Craning his head up off his pillow, he realized the sound of washing was from a torrential rain outside, the wind pushing waves of airborne water against the window. He gave thanks for the sound stone construction of Seaward, its solid tile roof and tightly shut windows and sank back into bed. And then his immediate surroundings rushed into his consciousness in a pleasurable wave. He was lying on his left side, tightly spooned between his two thirteen year old caramel brown slave boys. His left arm was under the neck of the boy in front of him, Bacchus, his left hand spread out on the boy's taut, flat padded chest. His other arm flopped across the boy's abdomen, his right hand cupping the slave's lower belly. But on Appleby's other side, Bacchus's twin brother Pan aligned his slim body with his master's strong back. Pan's left arm was extended beyond his head, his hand resting lightly entwined in his master's light brown shoulder-length hair, while the boy's right arm crossed over to caress his master's chest, his fingers lightly grazing the man's nipple.
Of course, there was more to the arrangement than that, as you would expect from three healthy young males on first awakening. Appleby felt the thick head of Pan's penis pressing hard into his naked lower back, and a little wetness from some clear precum that had oozed out in the early morning. Appleby's own rigid cock felt warmly encased by something; shifting a little so as to move it, he realized it was lodged between the upper thighs of the boy in front of him who was spooning back into his belly. Out of curiosity, to see whether Bacchus matched his bedmates, Appleby's right arm slid a few inches down from the slave boy's lower belly, over the small, crisp patch of pubic hairs, and stopped short at a barricade: the slim shaft of the boy's dark brown cock was pointing up toward his slim chest at a forty-five degree angle.
Sliding his right hand around the obstruction of Bacchus's erect penis, Appleby caressed the soft, wrinkled skin of the boy's full, hairless scrotum. Plucking up tiny ridges of skin, the rolled them between his fingertips, "scratching" all around the dark ballsack in that way. Bacchus woke with a gentle start and a sharp intake of breath, then snuggled back into his master's belly with a sigh of contentment. He began massaging his own stiff penis until his master's right hand slipped up to take over that job for him. Appleby's large man's hand slid slowly up and down the boy's penis, now slick with precum, bending the tip downward at the end of each stroke, which made the boy moan softly and clench his buttocks. Bacchus moved his right hand back to grasp his master's thigh and pull himself farther into his master's hard chest and belly. Appleby began slowly moving his own penis between the thighs of his boy slave, in the warm groove just where the thighs came together at the testicles, a groove now slick with precum.
Pan awoke from the gentle movements in the bed, his head starting up to look around in confusion. "Wha'?" he said, then realized the game that was going on. His master and brother were locked together so closely that he could find no place to insert his hand between them to fondle the white man, so he reached his right arm over his master's side to grasp his brother's ribs and pulled all three together tightly. His left hand, entwined in his master's long light brown hair, gathered it up in handfuls, bringing it to his face where he smelled and tasted it. Pan pushed his own penis hard against his master's lower back, making a slick surface on which his hard erection could slide. He moaned and gasped with the pleasurable effort of riding his master's hairless back.
Pushing his cock in and out of the wet groove between his slave boy's thighs suddenly put Appleby in mind of his rapture on the beach with Hector the previous afternoon. He had a sudden yearning for that kind of experience again, but he was sure there was no stone crock of butter in the bedroom to smear on his hard penis! Lifting his head to make a quick survey of the room, Appleby spied the basin, jug of water, and bar of soap. He quickly broke away from his slave boys and leaped from the foot of his bed, which brought soft protests from them both. Sitting up on the rumpled sheets, they look with curiosity as he softened the soap in the water and then began lathering up his penis which stuck straight out from his body. "Oh!" said Bacchus, quickly exchanging a look of surprise with Pan, which became looks of comprehension. Smiles of interest and expectation, and perhaps a few wrinkles of worry, broke out on their deep caramel, boyish faces. They understood perfectly the experience that would soon be theirs. Both thinking the same thought, and each greedy with desire to please their master and themselves, they scrambled to the edge of the bed as their master approached with the softened soap.
They positioned themselves side by side, thighs crammed together, knees on the very edge of the bed, pale tan soles of feet sticking straight back, torsos supported on their elbows. "Me, please, Master!" pleaded Pan on the left, and "No, it's my turn," said Bacchus on the right. Coming up to the edge of the bed, Appleby was nearly overwhelmed with the sight of two brown globes of deep caramel, with the darker valley at the center of each that led from wrinkled brown asshole down to their dangling scrotums and penises. Stepping right up to the edge of the bed, he lathered both his middle fingers well with the soap, then inserted them into his slave boys' holes.
Each gasped, in surprise and discomfort, as his slippery fingers pushed all the way in. He began a slow rhythm of in and out, spiraling his fingers more and more with each stroke. At first the boys squeaked with discomfort, then began to purr and moan with pleasurable expectation. Appleby could feel each asshole loosen and widen, the sphincters relaxing. It was time.
Lathering his achingly rigid cock once more with the soap, Appleby stepped behind Pan, on the left. He placed the head of his penis at the slave boy's brown love hole and pushed. Younger and smaller than Hector, the boy's hole resisted at first and Pan gasped. Then, with a plop, first the head and then the shaft of the white man's penis entered the long, moist tunnel inside the black boy slave. Pan put his head down and moaned in pain. Appleby moved back out slowly, and the boy gasped again, then he pushed forward, picking up the rhythm gradually. Pan's gasps of pain gave way quickly to moans of pleasure, and he struggled to push back into his master's slowly pumping groin while still staying on the bed. All the while, Appleby was reaching to his right, his right middle finger reinserted into Bacchus's asshole. Bacchus squirmed with delight, muttered "my turn" and "please, master" under his breath as the white finger moved in and out, expanding the circle of his hole.
Appleby suddenly pulled completely out of Pan with a wet sucking sound, which brought the boy's head up with a gasp and a small yelp of protest. Taking one step to the right, Appleby placed his penis at the bottom hole of the second black slave boy, and pushed. Already opened from Appleby's finger fondling, the love hole relaxed more easily and the white man entered the boy entirely. It was Bacchus's turn to moan, raising his head to look around, putting his head down low to see between his own brown legs and past his dangling penis to his master's light colored legs and large, hanging pink and purple ballsack moving back and forth. Appleby now reached to the left and inserted two lathered fingers into Pan, to mollify the boy for his momentary lack of attention.
After a few moments of this, Appleby switched again, then after a few minutes more he went back again. Each change brought a soft moan of protest from the boy he left and a gasp of pleasure from the boy he impaled. Sensing that this could not continue forever, Appleby cried "Up, Pan" to the boy he was fingering. Looking to his master for directions, which were given with a quick gesture, Pan rose from his position and stood on the edge of the bed, putting one foot over his prostrate brother, straddling his brother's bucking back and presenting his rock hard penis, standing nearly flush with his belly, to his master. Appleby took the slave boy's dark brown penis into his mouth and began sucking and pumping furiously in time to the rhythm with which he slammed his own penis into the brown boy beneath. Pan grasped his master's shoulders, then his hair, then his head, wildly bucking and emitting animal sounds of "Eeee, eeee, eeee" as he began to lose control. Time lost all meaning as man and boys, locked together physically, became one, lost in pleasure.
It happened at nearly the same time. Pan came violently, pushing forward into his master, who could barely remain on his feet with this onslaught, the slave boy clutching frantically at his master's tanned white shoulders. Four times the boy pulled his hips back as if to wind up and throw, which he did with his whole young body. Appleby leaned into the boy's groin, swallowing frantically, while both his hands were busy in pulling the hips of the boy below in and out. Pan's ejaculation had no sooner subsided than Appleby's began. Pulling his head back away from Pan's dripping penis, Appleby slammed his muscular groin forward into Bacchus's butt. Throwing his head back with a low roar from the back of his throat, Appleby shot long ropes of white cum into his black slave's asshole, working his penis in and out frantically. Unbalanced by his master's spasm, Pan stepped backward and lost his footing, falling on his back just beyond his brother's head, his legs stretched back alongside his brother's arms and knees.
Bacchus felt his master's violent passion subsiding. Desperate for release, he lunged forward, releasing his master's long red penis with a loud sucking sound, and scrambling forward he sank his own cock into his brother's mouth which was open and panting. Surprised but willing, Pan began sucking hard on his brother's rigid penis while Bacchus began pumping his hips for all he was worth, his hands on the far edge of the bed.
Appleby, drained, slumped forward against the near edge of the bed, watching the boy he had just fucked scoot forward towards his brother. The white man was treated to the sight of the dark caramel brown hips of the boy clench and unclench in quick succession as Bacchus face-fucked his brother. A muscular dimple appeared and disappeared in rhythm. After the stimulation to his prostate administered by his master's fucking, it did not take long. With a long howl, Bacchus slammed forward into his brother's face, nearly gagging him. Straining forward to squeeze every ounce of spunk into his brother's mouth, on his final push Bacchus did push too far and went tumbling over his brother's face and onto the floor on the far side.
Panting, swallowing, Pan and Appleby looked at each other in surprise, Pan coming up off his back and twisting half around to look at his brother on the floor. Appleby craned forward to see what he could see. Master and slave boy held that position for only a second, their penises slowly wilting and dribbling the last off their cum onto the bed. Suddenly they heard first a giggle, then maniacal laughter coming from the floor. Bacchus rose up halfway and clambered back onto the bed, laughing at his unintentional fall. Pan and Appleby both broke into guffaws themselves, Pan choking in his laughter as unswallowed dribbles of his brother's semen blew out his nose. Appleby rolled forward in his laughter, and lolled on the bed in a tangle of pleasure and intimacy with his slave boys. It was in that happy moment of laughter, crossed limbs, and gentle caresses that Appleby felt a strong emotion. He had felt hints of it before in the last two days, but knew it for what it was when it came to him full-blown: he felt love for these two boys who were wholly his, owned and possessed by him.
Keeping that knowledge in his heart to ponder later, Appleby sent the boys down to the bath room to pump and heat water for a bath. They threw on some clothing and ran downstairs to the task. Shaving carefully at the bowl, now murky with soapy water, Appleby turned over the images of the boys in his mind, caressing each one again in his imagination. Gathering up the old but clean bathrobe he had been given on his first day, he went downstairs to find the bath room. Passing by the dining room, he noticed a simple breakfast of bread and jam on the table, but there was no sign of the women. The storm continued to howl outside; perhaps their absence was due to the weather, but it was clear that someone had been here early to leave the food in haste.
Entering the bath room with its brick floor, large claw- footed tub, pump and stove, Appleby found that the boys had heated and pumped enough water to fill the tub. Casting aside his robe, he sank gratefully into the warm, steaming water. A pleasant inspiration seized him.
"Boys, come take a bath, too. Just one at a time," he said. They needed no second invitation, although Appleby did think he would have to mediate a dispute as to who would go first. In the end, Pan stepped into the warm water and sank down with his back to his master's belly. Although both the white man and the dark brown boy sported half erections in the warm water, it was a time for the pleasure of caring touch alone. Their wet legs slid together as Appleby soaped and scrubbed the boy's back, then reached around in front to wash his chest and belly, being careful to clean his underarms as well. Gently, Appleby pulled back the skin from Pan's penis, still sensitive from his recent passion, and cleaned the organ thoroughly, Pan giggling with boyish delight.
"Up with you now," he said, helping to push Pan up and slapping his dark golden brown bottom as it cleared the water. With a mock yelp, Pan hopped out of the tub, Bacchus slipping in nearly before his brother was out. Bacchus sat facing his master, each one's legs wrapped around the other's hips, their semi-hard penises bobbing together in a friendly fashion underwater. Appleby cleaned Bacchus as he had Pan, but in addition he soaped his fingers lightly and gently rubbed and caressed the boy's face, as Bacchus held his eyes closed in bliss. Then Bacchus soaped and scrubbed his master's chest and belly and then returned the favor by pulling back his master's foreskin and gently cleaning his penis as the white man had done to him.
Finished with their bath, man and boy emerged to accept the towels that Pan offered them. The boys put their clothes back on, while Appleby donned his bathrobe to return to his room. Dressing quickly, he returned to the dining room where he invited the boys to join him in his breakfast. Ravenous from the morning's exercise, all three quickly finished the bread, and also some fruit they found in a bowl on the sideboard. As the boys cleared away the remains of the meal, Appleby went to the window and looked out.
He had been aware of the howling of the storm all along, a fact confirmed by the sheets of water that blew against the windows. The boys scurried around to light fires in the fireplaces of the dining room, study, library, and Appleby's bedroom above. Peering into the storm, Appleby thought he heard a change in the howling of the storm. It came and went, then came more consistently, a high pitched keening that would last for perhaps twenty seconds at a time. Trying to identify the sound, walking from window to window, he began to realize that it came from the slave cabins. He was wondering whether he should investigate when a dark shape loomed out of the swirling rain, ran down the verandah to the door nearest the outdoor kitchen, and burst into the stone-floored pantry, dripping water and admitting wind and rain. It was Hector, wrapped in an oiled, weatherproof cloak.
"Master Mark!" he cried. "It's Athena! Her time has come! In our cabin." And then he was gone back out into the storm.
Appleby would have liked to have seen Hector again for the first time since their afternoon together yesterday under more private circumstances, but fate had arranged things differently. Pan and Bacchus frisked around in a state of high excitement. On the pantry wall were three rain slickers, long oilskin cloaks. Appleby sent Bacchus for his boots upstairs and put them on, then he and the twins donned the cloaks and hurried out, making sure to shut the door against the storm behind them.
Wrapping their cloaks around them, hoods pulled low over their faces, they fought the wind and rain to make their way down the path that led to the slave cabins, and found the wooden structure shared by Troy, Athena, and Hector. They entered and shut the door behind them quickly. Spacious enough for its three usual occupants, the single room bottom floor seemed crowded. All the slaves of Seaward were there. On the bed lay Athena, drenched in sweat and paler than her usual dark caramel brown, but with a look of fierce determination and strength on her face. A rich, strange animal odor of unfamiliar body fluids came to Appleby's nose, and he began to feel the mystery and strangeness of what was happening on the bed. The smell was overlayed with a strong medicinal, herbal odor coming from a pot simmering on the wood stove. Mama Juno and Mama Cass sat stolidly in chairs on either side of the bed, mopping Athena's brow, spooning herbal tinctures into her mouth, and murmuring soothingly to her. Helen, the little sister of Troy and Hector, sat upstairs on the edge of the loft, her thin dark legs dangling off into the air. Appleby thought she smiled quickly at him, the only witness to his peeping tom adventure of the night before, but then her face retreated into neutrality and watchfulness. Priam stood with his back to the window, ramrod straight and a rock of strength, looking out the window at the rain.
Troy, Athena's man, paced back and forth from the end of the bed to another window, stopping at each turn by the bed to look at his woman with concern. Hector, too, seemed unusually agitated, his usual quiet strength troubled by the unfolding events. He sat in a chair near the bed but not too near, drumming both feet against the floor, flipping a piece of kindling wood between his hands.
Seeing the new arrivals add to the crowding, the older women decided to take matters into their own hands.
"Priam! Haven't you got chores to do in the barn? Are all the animals safely in, are the cows milked?" said Mama Cass to her husband. Priam smiled quietly and made no answer, but knelt to pick up a waterproof canvas which he began to arrange around himself.
Mama Juno rose and spoke sharply to her sons: "Pan, Bacchus, go to the kitchen and take bread, cheese and fruit over to the master's house, that's all he will get for lunch and dinner today, and then do your chores, change the sheets, clean up over there!" And turning to the white man, she said, "Begging your pardon, Master Mark!" but it was clear she was doing no such thing and that she expected him to depart as well. Smiling, Appleby and the twins prepared to leave--but he did wonder for a moment why she specified a change of sheets in her instructions to the boys.
Appleby, the twins, and Priam left, the older black man to go about his chores with the canvas wrapped tightly around him, Appleby and the boys to return to the house. They did not hear what instructions were given to Troy and Hector, whether they were sent away or allowed to remain. The twins and their master stopped by the separate kitchen building and loaded up on provisions, which they carried back to the pantry in the main house.
A long afternoon ensued. Master and slaves shared another simple meal of bread and cheese. The boys began their chores of cleaning, restoring the upstairs bedroom to order and putting down fresh sheets (what must the older women think of the rate at which his sheets needed washing? Appleby thought to himself). As the boys went about their business all over the house, Appleby found an opportunity to explore the one part of the house he had not yet seen, the cellar. In the coolness of the stone-lined basement he found foodstuffs stored, the last of the previous fall's fruits now wrinkling. Old broken furniture was piled in one corner. Approaching a row of self-standing shelves in another corner, he was pleased and astonished to find row after row of dusty wine bottles. Eagerly examining the labels, he found cobwebbed bottles of old claret from Bordeaux, as well as Burgundy. A few were less dusty and of more recent vintage, so he surmised that his Aunt Lucy had purchased them. But most must have been put down by Richardson Huddle decades ago, and if aging improved wine at all they would be at their peak. A whole section of old Napoleon brandy excited him, and he stuffed three bottles in his pockets and under his arm to take upstairs.
Appleby no sooner cleaned the dust of years off of the bottles and placed them in the study than a howl of wind and a crash signaled the opening of the pantry door. This time it was little Helen, wrapped in oiled canvas, standing dripping on the floor. Like a prophetess of old she raised an arm and uttered the single word "Come!' then turned and ran from the house. Calling to the boys, Appleby and the twins once again put on their rain slickers and ran to the birthing cabin.
Entering, they found everyone there once again--but no, there was one more! For there sucking at Athena's breast was a new baby! Troy sat by her side, holding Athena's hand with a look of proud strength on his face. Hector ran up to his master as soon as he entered. "It's a girl!" he said, and taking the white man by the hand led him to the bedside. The boy's strong hand gripped Appleby's so tightly he thought it might break. Appleby could hear the boy's rapid breathing and could almost hear the pounding of his heart.
Athena opened eyes, tired from her labors but strong and shining, and looked at her master. She made no attempt to cover her bosom at which the infant sucked. She looked straight into Appleby's eyes, the intensity of the moment of new life cutting through any difference and division. Then she said in a whisper that nevertheless carried throughout the room, "You were right, Master Mark. She is beautiful."
Tears sprang to Appleby's eyes. Please God, he prayed, don't let me lose control here. He could but nod vigorously, and smiled to fight back the trembling of his lower lip, then turned and looked out the window at the storm until he regained his composure.
At that moment, Mama Juno rose up by virtue of her status as new grandmother to take command. "All the men folks, out!" she declared. "Hector, you're going to have to move back to Priam's and Cass's and share the loft with Helen for a few days. Priam, go, find some more chores to do. Pan and Bacchus, I need you close in case Cass and I need someone to fetch wood or water, so move back next door into the loft of our cabin, I'm sure Master Mark can make do without you for tonight at least. Begging your pardon, if that is acceptable, Master Mark," she added, but it was clear that she was not really seeking permission. He might be her master, but such advantages gave way in the world of women and childbirth. "Troy, can't sleep in this bed for a while, find someplace else," she said, her voice a little softer. Gathering rain gear about them once more, everyone dispersed out into the storm. Pan and Bacchus waved goodbye for the day to their master, saying how much they would miss him, asking if he would be alright. He reassured them, and returned alone to the house in the rain.
The quietness inside the lonely house was balanced with the continued storm outside. Appleby stood by the window looking out, just able to make out the hay and storage barn near the border of trees. He noticed then a figure, blurred by the driving rain, run into the barn, then back out again. He could only tell that it was dark skinned and, as far as he could tell, was unprotected from the storm. Donning his rain gear, Appleby set out once more, heading straight for the barn. As he came nearer the figure approached again, heavily ladened, and ran into the barn just ahead of him. Appleby followed quickly and there on the straw-covered floor stood Troy. The twenty-year old black man was soaking wet, completely, and was putting down a load of bedding that he had fetched from a cabin. The bedding itself was hardly less wet than he, having been hauled there through the rain.
"Troy, what are you doing?" asked Appleby in amazement.
"Oh, Master Mark!" Troy said with a start, surprised by the unexpected appearance of his master. "You scared me! Well, sir, I guess I'll sleep here in the barn for a few nights, until the women folk let me back in," said, his strong, dark face breaking into a wide grin of dazzling white teeth.
Appleby looked at the drenched bedding and knew it was hopeless. "Come, help me spread these things out over the straw to dry," Appleby said to the slave, "and then come to the house. There are five perfectly good empty bedrooms there and you are not going to sleep on wet bedding in a barn." Troy was going to protest, but the white man was already spreading the soggy blankets out over stacks of straw to dry. The young man helped his slightly older master and when done, the two of them peered out of the open barn door.
"The rain is coming down as hard as ever," said Appleby. "Haven't you any covering?" he asked the younger man.
"No master, but," chuckled Troy deep in his throat, "I'm as wet as I can be now, I might just as well run." Seeing the sense of this comment, Appleby wrapped himself up in his rain slicker and both men ran for the house, quickly entering through the pantry door which they shut tight against the storm. Both men took off their wet boots and left them on the stone floor to dry. Appleby took off his slicker and hung it up on a peg where it could drain. Then he looked at his slave with concern, for the young man was soaking wet and the day was getting cool once more.
"Come upstairs to dry, I'm sure we can find towels and you may use some of my clothes until yours have dried," Appleby said. A look of surprise appeared on Troy's face. "Upstairs, master?" he asked, almost in wonder, as if he had been invited to a cave of rubies and diamonds. It was clear that he had rarely if ever been on that floor.
"Surely, come along with me, please," said the master, filled with a sense of concern that Troy not catch cold. He led the way through the hallway and up the stairs quickly, as Pan and Bacchus had led him on his first day there. Opening the first door he came to, he saw that the fireplace had been set with kindling and wood--perhaps even years before!--but had not been lit. Finding a match on the mantel, he set the fire, which caught and, thankfully, began to burn without smoking. Troy stood somewhat dazed just inside the room as the white man moved quickly to attend to his needs. Finding no towels in the room, Appleby stepped into the hallway and opened the door to a small butler's pantry, revealing stacks of clean, folded towels. He returned to the room with several of them and handed them to Troy.
"Thank you, master," said Troy quietly. He looked his master full in the face, searching his eyes for any hint of manipulation or advantage in these kindnesses the white man was showing him. "Thank you. It's been a hard day... a good day, but a hard one." Troy turned to arrange the towels on a washstand in the room.
"Yes, I know it has," replied Appleby. "For you, and... well, it seemed to me that Hector was quite excited by the birth of your daughter, he must be a devoted brother-in- law."
"Brother-in-law? Oh yes, Hector is quite excited and concerned." Troy paused, carefully choosing his words, seeming to make a decision in his mind before going further. "He's not excited as a brother-in-law, Master Mark. Hector is excited," he paused, "because he might be the father." If it were possible for Troy's deep chocolate skin to darken, it did so now with a blush.
"The father.... Hector? Of that baby?!" Appleby was so stunned that he sat down on the edge of the bed which was right behind him. The white man knew from his own experience that the black teenager was fully capable of filling Athena's uterus with his man seed, and he knew that Hector stayed in the loft of Troy's and Athena's cabin, but this was unexpected. He looked in shock at Troy, who smiled back, picking absently at his soaking wet shirt.
"But... but don't you mind, Troy? You seem not upset at all," said Appleby, and then blushed, conscious that he must sound like a Boston prude.
"Upset? No, Master, I'm not upset at all" said Troy very softly....and then in one movement he pulled his sodden shirt off. The twenty year old black slave carefully draped the shirt over a nearby empty quilt rack so that it might dry, but Appleby scarcely noticed that activity, mesmerized as he was by the sight of Troy's naked torso. His chest was two nearly round pads of muscle, two inches thick and curving gently out, with two thick, prune-like nipples just on the lower edges of each breast. Well defined pads of muscles marched in soldierly array down each side of his abdomen. His navel was a whorl like a snail, and flush with the dark skin covering the tight muscles of his belly. He appeared to have no fat on him at all. His waist was slim but looked as tight as a steel spring. There was no hair at all on his dark chocolate skin, which shone with a light coating of natural oil and with the moisture from the rain. A well defined ridge of muscle ran out from his thick neck to shoulders that bulged out, muscles rolling away from strong bone in a wave of flesh. The wave continued down his arms, where muscles worked underneath dark skin at every small movement of the young man. Clearly visible tufts of wiry, spiraling hair were peeking out from his underarms.
"Not upset at all," he continued, looking up at his master then and flashing a brilliant smile of sympathy and acceptance for the shocked white man. "It happened one day about a year ago. Hector was thirteen, and had been staying in the loft of our cabin for some time. One day Athena and I were in bed, naked.... you know, Master," he said, blushing again. Appleby nodded his agreement and swallowed hard, unsure whether he could speak at all. "We were making some noise, I guess, but then I heard some noise upstairs. We had thought we were alone in the cabin. I slipped out of bed quietly, even though I was naked, and went around to the ladder. Those cabins sure are built strong," he said, shaking his head and smiling, "because I could climb right up the ladder without making a sound. As soon as my head cleared the loft level, I saw Hector, also with no clothes on, lying on his side with his ear to the floor, trying to listen, and playing with himself. You know what I mean, Master," he said.
Appleby nodded quickly. "Well, I jumped up the last three rungs of the ladder quickly and stood there by him. I sure scared him, seeing me there all naked, and him being naked!" said Troy, shaking his head in amusement and chuckling. His deep, soft laughter animated the muscles of his belly and chest, which moved beneath his deep dark skin. "I knew what he needed, Master," said Troy, turning his gaze directly into his master's eyes, "so I took him by the hand and led him down the stairs and into our bed. It was OK with Athena, and OK with me. He shared that bed with both of us until Athena got pregnant, even after for a few months. Of course," Troy said, shifting his gaze away into space, "we couldn't do anything for the last few months, neither Troy nor me. That's been real hard."
Troy tugged, then tugged harder at the wet cord holding up his soggy pants, looking to the side as he did so, remembering. The cord moved half an inch.
Appleby found voice at last. "But, how could you not mind that your brother shared a bed with you and your wife?"
Troy looked at Appleby, and a clear strength came into both his voice and face. "You may have noticed there aren't women or girls Hector's age here on the island. Not for Pan and Bacchus either, although they might not mind that so much," he said, a slight grin spreading on his features, "but it's difficult for Hector. Our bed is what he needed."
The last word hung in the air as Troy's tugging finally worked, and both pants and wet loincloth fell to the floor in one motion. The young black man stood naked before his master. The poetry of hills and valleys of muscle that ran down his arms was echoed in his legs, with bulging thighs and narrower but well defined calves. Troy bent to pick up his breeches and loincloth and turned to arrange them on the quilt rack to dry along with his shirt. In profile, he showed the same high, tight, top-padded butt that Appleby had seen on Hector and Priam. Every move worked a muscle in his legs, rolling movements of power and grace beneath the spread of deeply dark hairless brown skin. Troy turned back to face his master.
"Here on Seaward Island, all we have is each other. Each one gives to others what they need." Troy looked down. He might have been looking at his genitals, and Appleby surely was. Here one would have no doubt of the rumors of the superior endowments of the African male. Troy's penis was not out of proportion to his body, his body was so gracefully muscular that the ten inch long shaft and thick circumference of the nearly black organ seemed perfectly right. As with Hector, the head was somewhat smaller than the shaft, a lighter brownish purple tip peeking out from the hood of midnight skin. Heavy balls filled a hairless scrotum behind this magnificent penis.
Appleby simply stared at his slave's dark body, taken away by its beauty and strength and then with a start realized that the young man's penis had begun to grow. More of the brown-purple head moved out of the hood of skin, and the organ began to rise slowly out and away from Troy's body. Not curved, it straightened out and began to rise in a stiff salute. Appleby tore his gaze from this sight and shot a quick glance at Troy's face. The young man was smiling at his master; he had been observing the white man all along.
"At Seaward, each one gives to others what they need." Troy repeated the simple truth. "We give you what you need, Master Mark," said Troy, "and I think you give us what we need when we need it." The utter truth and beauty of Troy's words filled Appleby with lightness and joy, and he rose from the bed. Smiling with understanding and gentleness, the powerful black slave walked the four steps it took to stand directly in front of his master. Grinning from ear to ear now, Troy's strong dark fingers went right to the top button of Appleby's shirt and methodically began to undo each one. As he neared the last one, Appleby came to his senses and quickly undid his own trousers, sliding them and his underwear to the floor.
It was Troy's turn to step back. As with his brother and the twins, he had never seen a naked white man before. Appleby, although not as muscular from hard work as Troy, had his own beauty of white tanned, pink and rose skin and hard, sculpted muscles. For a moment Troy drank in the sight, then looked quickly into his master's face. It was Appleby's turn to smile, as he realized what a revelation this experience was for his slave. Troy's left hand came up to fondle his master's light brown hair in wonder. His right hand moved quickly here and there over the white skin before him, touching quickly, learning quickly, feeling rose colored nipple and light tufts of hair on chest and above the penis. Appleby during this examination laughed, and put both hands on either side of Troy's face. His skin was soft and smooth but beneath it even the muscles of his jaw were powerful. Appleby fondled Troy's small ears, and ran his hands through the thick skull cap of wiry, kinky hair that the slave wore. His hands moved to the back of Troy's strong neck and he moved the slave toward himself. The flesh of the young black man's mouth was full, pushing forward his lips that were full and very dark, like Hector's, the lower lip large and moist.
The two men, black and white, came together in a crash of passion. Appleby soon came to know that this was no boy, the kind of lover to which he had become accustomed over the last few days. Appleby and Troy ground together, their penises crossing like swords, both fully erect now. Troy pushed forward and Appleby went back onto the bed, Troy following and mounting him face to face. When the white man sucked his slave's lips, pulling the black man's tongue into his mouth, the young African responded in kind, enveloping his master's thin white lips with his own until Appleby feared they would be pulled completely off. When the white man thrust his pelvis upward, grinding his penis against the hard belly and crinkly pubic hair of his slave, the black man thrust back down even harder. Appleby clasped both arms around the black man's back and pulled him down into himself, while Troy slid his arms around his master's shoulders and pulled upwards in a fierce hug. Legs wrapped around legs, feet rubbed against feet, and the big four- poster rocked and groaned with the struggle it supported. As if by unspoken agreement, Troy turned his body around and came back down upon his master, taking the deep rose penis into his mouth and sucking, while Appleby sucked his slave's balls and pumped the huge penis with his hand as clear precum poured out of it.
Appleby didn't really think about what he did then; he simply knew that he wanted it and, although Troy had said nothing, he knew what his slave wanted, too. Gathering his strength, Appleby pushed the slave off and ran to his room. He returned with a bar of wet soap. Troy's look of confusion and question at the sudden departure turned to a look of amazement, hope, and questioning. He knew what the soap was for as well.
"Are you sure, master?" he asked. By way of answer, Appleby began applying soap liberally to the rock hard black penis that now extended nearly a foot. Troy leaned back on the bed, his feet on the floor, supporting himself on his elbows as his master ministered to his rock hard dick. Quickly soaping his own butt hole, Appleby climbed onto the bed on his back, shoved a pillow under his hips, and raised his legs in the air, bent at the knees.
Troy needed neither invitation nor directions. Clambering into position, he put the end of his huge penis against his master's wrinkled pink love hole. It was fortunate for both of them that the men of Troy's family had somewhat smaller heads on their organs than the diameter of the shaft, for it did not take much pushing for the first inch of Troy's penis to pop into his white master. "That's not so bad," thought Appleby, and then sharp pain shot up through him as Troy pushed the rest of his soapy cock slowly into his master. Once completely in, he slumped forward over his master, the top of his kinky-haired head brushing the white man's chin, and lay there, sucking at his master's rose colored nipples until the pain subsided. Appleby communicated that fact by a gentle movement of his hips. Troy responded in kind, slowly increase the pace as he pumped his penis in and out of his master. It never felt comfortable to Appleby, but it felt good, feeling as if his entire gut was filled with the black man's penis with every forward stroke, giving himself to his slave in that way.
Troy never lifted his head from his master's chest. He laid his cheek on the hard, muscular pad of the white man's breast. Eyes an inch from the pink and white skin, tongue occasionally flicking out to lick, a thin line of drool flowed out of the black man's full mouth. With his powerful hips he plowed his master's ass, gradually picking up speed. His hands were under Appleby's shoulder blades, fingers over the tops of his shoulders, pulling the white man into him. Appleby's lips and nose mashed into the wiry, jet-black hair of the slave's head, smelling the clean body oils and rain water there. The white man lifted his head as much as could to look beyond the heaving, sweating shoulders of his lover, down the long dark glistening lines of back muscle on each side of the valley of the spine to where the dark padded buttocks were clenching and unclenching, pistoning like a machine.
The faster Troy pumped the harder he held his master, refusing to release him, black skin pressing down into white as if the two would merge. Ecstasy could not be delayed forever. A small sound began in his throat, "Nnnn, nnn, nnn, nnn" and it built into words: "Oh master, Oh my God, Oh master, Oh--" and then a full throated bellow. At last Troy lifted his head from his master's chest and roared up into the white man's face, sweat flying in beads from his face and forehead. His whole body clenched, driving his enormous penis as far as it could go into the white man's guts. He pulled the organ halfway back, pumped vigorously five times, pushed and roared again, holding the spasm for seconds. Then, utter collapse and silence.
But not silence, for Troy was whispering and crying: "Oh master.... Oh I needed that.... Oh my master, Oh be my master." Appleby caressed the wooly head with both hands, rubbing his face in the crinkly hair. The white man's own needs were near their peak, but he held them back to help his black slave get through this moment. A great sigh shook Troy's body--he was still--and then he quickly arched up. In an unintentional mimicry of what his master had done with his brother the day before, Troy planted his knees on the bed and pushed forward to keep his enormous penis inside the white man's intestine. Curling forward, the slave took the head of his master's dick into his mouth, rolling it with his big lips while his tongue rubbed it top and bottom. Appleby writhed in pleasure, his legs locking around his slave's lower back, digging his heels into the ample muscled pads of his buttocks. Moving his head downward, Troy took the whole penis in his mouth and began sliding his head up and down. The white man gasped and moaned, writhing with pleasure, arms flailing, hands slapping the bed, slapping the black man's shoulders. Appleby put off the moment as long as he could. Unable to delay, he put his head back and roared. He clenched his legs so tightly even the powerful slave thought his spine might break. The white man's arms could not find his slave to grasp; instead, his fists pounded on the bed, clenching at the sheets. A mighty blast of sperm worked its way from his lower belly up his penis, exploding into Troy's mouth. The black man sucked furiously, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. His white master's hips bucked twice more, he shivered as if with cold, and collapsed flat on the bed.
Troy pulled the pillow out from under his master's hips and stretched out beside him on the bed. Turning in toward each other, the men ran their fingers over each other's faces, exploring, learning, smiling. When they became more aware of their surroundings, the window was dark and the fire was low. Rolling out of bed, Troy fetched the chamber pot from below. He held it while both men pissed into it, laughing as they crossed lines of urine, deep pink and red penis sometimes slapping against the midnight black cock of the slave.
"Build the fire," Appleby said softly to his slave, then ran from the room. Through the darkened house he went, naked, as the storm continued to push rain against the windows. Finding what he sought, he ran back up the stairs and into the room with a bottle of Napoleon brandy and two glasses. Troy's face lit up with surprise and a deep chuckle formed in his chest. "Have you ever had this?" Appleby asked.
"Miss Lucy gave us some every now and then at Christmas," the slave replied. The two men climbed back into the bed under covers, grateful now for the fire in the grate and the warmth of each other's bodies. Appleby poured two drinks, gave one to his slave... to his friend. They looked into each other's eyes and silently touched glasses in a toast that each man felt in his heart. Snuggling together, sipping, as each drained the glass he fell asleep in the rainy night.