This story contains graphic but completely fictional depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage boys and a girl. 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 five
The first rays of an early sunrise broke through shreds of cloud that were clearing from the sky over Seaward Plantation. Yesterday's storm had passed, leaving clear, clean air. Early morning light crept into the only occupied bedroom on the second floor of the main, stone house of the plantation, slowly washing over the two figures who lay entwined there.
Mark Appleby and his black slave, Troy, lay in a comfortable tangle of limbs. Deep chocolate brown and lighter tanned white and pink arms, legs, and flesh made a pleasing contrast in the gathering light. A bottle of Napoleon brandy, one fourth gone, sat on a bedside table, while two empty snifters had rolled from the covers onto the braided rug and under the four-poster bed in the night.
The twenty-five year old master and his twenty year old slave awoke slowly with small movements of stretching, yawns, and sighs. Rising into consciousness, each remembered where he was and the passionate embraces of the night before, discovered with pleasure that his partner was still close by, that their arms and legs were still wrapped around each other. Blinking awake, lying side by side facing each other, they looked into each other's eyes in silence for a moment.
"'Morning, Master Mark," said the male slave, his dark face breaking into a grin showing perfect white teeth.
"'Morning, Slave Troy," returned his master, and both men broke into soft laughter, both conscious of the absurdity of their unequal legal status in contrast to the intimate relationship formed last night. Snuggling closer, they rubbed noses, brushed lips, touched foreheads together. Appleby lifted his head and moved even closer to lay his cheek on top of the smooth, dark chocolate cheek of his slave. Holding each other peacefully, each felt the inevitable rise in his own penis and in the organ of his lover. One swelling encouraged another, and soon two rigid cocks stretched against each other between the two men, pointing straight up in a line between them. Moaning with soft pleasure, Appleby shifted his arms to go around the neck and back of the black man, pulling the two closer together, while Troy slowly pumped both cocks together, his big brown hand encircling both.
The pleasurable moment did not last. Raising his head to listen, Appleby thought he heard a sound from downstairs, in what he thought was an otherwise empty house. Now sure that he heard a soft human voice, he started up. "Wha'?" asked Troy, disappointed, looking searchingly into his master's medium brown eyes.
"Someone is downstairs," said Appleby. "Wait here, I'll go see."
The room temperature was pleasant as Appleby sprang from bed. In the increasing light he found his trousers and drew them quickly on, leaving his underwear and shirt on the floor where they had been fallen in haste the night before. He padded down the hallway and stood at the top of the stairs, listening. Now he could distinctly hear soft, careful footsteps, and a low masculine voice calling "Troy? Troy!" outside the library at the other end of the downstairs hallway. Soundlessly, Appleby walked down the stairs and turned down the hall. In the darker hallway, he could just make out Hector, the fourteen year old brother of Troy, who was standing in the hallway and peering into the library, calling his brother.
"Hector!" Appleby said, softly so as not to startle the boy. Nevertheless, the dark brown boy jumped and turned, gasping.
"Master Mark! you scared me," he exclaimed. "I was... this morning... uh, do you know where Troy is, Master Mark? He said he was going to sleep in the barn, but he wasn't there this morning. I've looked everywhere." A look of real concern crossed his handsome young face.
"Oh, he's here, he spent the night upstairs in one of the bedrooms," replied Appleby, walking up the hallway. "He's fine." Hector's relief at this good news warred with astonishment that even as open and accepting a white man as Master Mark would put a slave up in a spare bedroom.
Appleby came close to the boy and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He's alright, really," he said, giving the young slave a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. Hector was momentarily lost in the sight of his master's bare torso, looking medium tan and dusky in the dark hallway. Memories of yesterday's sweet coupling flooded back. Appleby pulled the boy to him, who turned to press the soft black skin of his cheek against the man's chest. They hugged affectionately, then Appleby planted a quick kiss on top of the boy's kinky head and, lifting his face, on his full lips.
"Do you want to come up and see him?" he asked. Hector nodded agreement quickly, and so the two walked upstairs, Appleby with his arm draped lightly over the boy's shoulders. Reaching the top of the stairs, Appleby gestured to the open door on the left. "That's my room," he said.
His interest piqued, Hector stepped just inside the door. "Oh!" he said in surprise, looking around. "Your bed is.... it's so, uh, neat," he said, his dark skin turning darker as he blushed. Appleby suddenly realized how incongruous was the neat appearance of his own room and his just-got-up appearance. There was nothing to do but show the boy to his brother's bedroom, however, since they had come this far.
"Troy is over here," Appleby said, crossing the hall. Hector walked into the bedroom. His brother, who had been dozing, started up, half-sitting in bed, supporting himself on one hand, the sheets just covering his naked groin. "Oh... hey, Hector, is anything wrong?"
"No, nothing wrong, I went to tell you that Athena and the child had a restful night but couldn't find you in the barn so I......" the boy's voice trailed off as he looked around the room at the rumbled bed, the liquor bottle and empty glasses..... and at his master's shirt and underwear cast carelessly on the floor. He stared at them for a moment, then at his master, and said, "Master Mark, isn't that your shirt and...." then stopped short, realizing what he was implying.... indeed, realizing what the plain truth must be.
"Yes, Hector, those are mine," said Appleby, coming up beside the boy and putting his arm around him, hugging him affectionately. The boy stared open-mouthed at his master, at his brother in the bed, at the piled clothes. Sensing his younger brother's confusion, Troy threw back the sheets and uncoiled himself from the bed, the powerful muscles of his sleek, dark body moving with a fluid power. He took two steps and put his arm around the boy on the other side from his master. "Are you alright, Hector? Are you alright with.... with this?" he asked his brother.
Hector thought for a moment, then shook his head "yes" vigorously and rested his head against his master's chest. "Yes," he whispered through half-parted lips. "Yes, yes, yes." His naked older brother pulled in closer, putting his other arm around the bare shoulders of his master, making a tight circle. Hector looked from the naked body of his brother to the half naked body of his master and grinned. Reaching over quickly, he tugged on the waist of his master's trousers, which dropped to the floor. He raised his head from his master's chest to smile into the white man's face, then to grin at his brother. Breaking away from the two men, Hector took a step back and wriggled out of first his shirt and then his pants, dropping them to the floor. He kicked away the rough shoes he wore, and then in one gesture undid his thin loincloth and cast it aside. His inky dark penis sprang out, already fully erect, and now standing stiff out in front of him.
Hector pushed back into a tight circular embrace with his brother and his white master. Three erect cocks met in the circle: Troy's huge organ, ten inches long at rest, had grown by two inches and had swollen in thickness. The reddish brown head of his dick pushed out now beyond its purple black hood of skin. Hector's eight inch dick was a slightly smaller copy of his brother's except it curved down a little at the end when fully erect. Mark Appleby felt no embarrasment at his own seven inches, now grown in a rigid erection. The two men and boy delighted in bouncing slightly on the balls of their feet to make their penises slap and slide with one another. Bright, glistening threads of precum hung from cock to cock and dribbled down to the floor.
Pulling each other in tight, arms clutched the slippery muscles of sweaty shoulder blades, hands dug into ass cheeks and cupped whole buttocks, caressed the taught abdominal muscles above the hips. Appleby was beside himself. As he turned to kiss and bite one nearly black earlobe he felt thick, moist lips on the other side of him take the skin of his neck into a gentle bite. As he turned to that side to suck whole, fruity lips into his mouth he felt his nipple on the other side being bitten by a slave whose jet-black, solid cap of kinky hair brushed his neck and chin.
Appleby slid to his knees, his arms holding tight to the muscled ridge of a dark chocolate hip on either side of him. A few seconds of bobbing after the waving shafts in front of him, and some helpful maneuvering by his slaves, put both of the black hoses in his mouth. They would not go in far together, but he could suck the heads into his mouth, mashing them together in the warm cavity, running his tongue over the sensitive top of each glans which made the blacks moan and buckle their knees in pleasure. Appleby rose and returned his own organ to the mix, swallowing precum. Troy saw what he must do and dropped to his own knees, taking his master's now deep purple, dusky penis and his brother's ebony shaft into his mouth and performing the same service. Then he stood and Hector gamely fell to his knees, capturing his brother's monstrous black penis and his master's rigid cock in his mouth and sucking.
As soon as Hector rose, swallowing precum, a thin line of clear drool running down his chin, Troy turned his head to survey the room quickly, then looked at his master and smiling said, "Soap." "Soap?" asked Hector, puzzled. "Soap!" explaimed Appleby, catching the inspiration.
Troy sprang into action, breaking away from the group and dunking last night's bar of soap into the nearby basin of cloudy water. Hector, pulling himself tight to his master's side, saw what he intended to do, and a powerful look of naked desire came into his eyes. The soap well softened, Troy thought for a moment, and then made a decision to do something, to accept something, he had never accepted before. He knelt before his white master and began lathering the rigid red cock of the white man. Appleby closed his eyes in ecstatic anticipation and began caressing the crisp, kinky hair of his black slave. Troy beckoned his brother to him and soaped up the boy's penis as well, Hector pushing his organ back and forth slightly in his brother's slippery grasp. Troy reached back behind himself, in between his thickly muscled buttocks, and lubricated his brown, wrinkled asshole, sliding his finger inside to loosen it. He looked up at the white man and black boy with an inquiring look. Understanding what was being asked, Appleby turned around and bent over, exposing his own pink, puckered hole, which Troy also lubricated, pushing a finger inside.
Wordlessly, his preparations finished, Troy climbed onto the bed and knelt in the middle of it, sticking his hard, prominent buttocks in the air, elbows on the sheets, head down and resting against the wooden headboard. Appleby was right behind him. He positioned the head of his slippery cock at Troy's hole and gently pushed. A moment of resistance caused Troy, utterly unused to the experience, to cry out. Then with a pop the white man was in. Troy gasped and caught his breath as the long, white penis slowly moved all the way in until the master's fluffy brown pubic hair was mashed against his bottom. Appleby leaned over his slave and put his hands on the black man's shoulders, then looked at Hector and nodded. Mouth slack with anticipation, Hector climbed onto the bed behind his master. He placed the reddish brown head of his organ at his master's rectal opening and pushed. Loosened by last night's coitus with Troy's huge black cock, the white man's hole opened easily. Hector was all the way in before he knew it, scrambling to push himself forward on his knees as his master gasped.
The white man set the pace for his two chocolate dark slaves. As he pumped forward, Hector pulled back until only the head of his cock remained inside his master. When Appleby pulled back most of the way out of Troy, Hector slammed forward all the way to his nest of black pubic hair. Reaching around the black slave in front of him, Appleby grasped the huge black sausage with one hand while with the other he kept his balance by clutching the slave's muscular shoulders. Appleby pumped Troy's penis in time to the rhythm that he set. The bed nearly bounced with the rhythmic pounding of the two men and boy.
Hector was the first to come. "Ah, no! Ah master! Oh, sweet, Oh, la! Ah, help me, yes, yes yes!" he shouted incoherently, repeating meaingless phrases as his whole body arched, pulling his master's hips back into his exploding groin, pumping and pausing, pumping and pausing, until the waves of the orgasm passed. He slumped over his master's back, holding on by clasping him around the belly, unwilling to let go, gasping for air. Despite Hector's spasms, Appleby never let go of Troy's huge penis, however, and pumped it rhythmically, squeezing it hard with his right hand. Troy's oak-hard thighs began to quiver, then to shake. Then his ass muscles tightened, launching his orgasm. Troy's penis erupted in sprays of white semen that shot out onto the pillow, bed, and headboard in front of him. Troy's clenching and unclenching of his buttocks to squeeze out the splashes of cum tightened the pressure on Appleby's penis, which gave the white master an exquisite wave of pleasure that pushed him into his own eruption. Appleby shouted Troy's name over and over, grinding into the black slave's ass as hard as he could. Pulling back out, he slammed forward again violently, expelling long ropes of semen into the slave beneath him. As Appleby climaxed with a roar he fell hard against the back of Troy even as Hector held on tight to the white man's back, gasping,
The men and boy collapsed in a heap, each one coming apart from another with sucking and plopping sounds. A tangle of dark chocolate and tanned white skin covered the bed. Rapid, gasping breathing filled the air. Moment by moment, though, peace returned to the scene. Stillness gave way to hands reaching out for hands to hold, and gasping for breath gave way to expressions of tenderness and pleasure, the calling of another's name softly: "Master Mark!" "Oh, Troy." "Ah, Hector, come here." And those whisperings gave way to joy, to throaty laughter, to mocking impersonations of "Soap?" "Soap!" Laughing, slapping each other's thighs and buttocks, the three rose from the bed, stretched, and surveyed the scene. The strong, musky scent of semen mixed with soap and sweat in the room.
"Let's.... let's make Pan and Bacchus clean this up," said Appleby, and Troy and Hector roared with laughter, agreeing with their master. But although still early, the morning was moving on and each had his own business to attend to. The three agreed on a quick bath. Hector ran ahead to pump and heat water, while Appleby and Troy gathered up a few clothes and the snifters and opened the windows to air the room. The brandy they left by the bed on the table.
The black man and boy and the white master each felt happy pleasure at seeing each other take turns in the tub, at seeing how water glistened on light or dark skin, changing the contours of muscles. But the sun was up and there was work to be done, so they finished their baths, toweled themselves and each other, and dressed for the day. Appleby shaved at a basin and mirror in the corner of the bath room as his black slaves, who did not need to do so yet, looked closely in wonder and delight. Bread and fruit in the pantry, brought there during the storm the previous evening, provided breakfast for all of them. Then the Africans went out to their work, while Appleby worked in the study writing more letters, consulting some of the many reference books there, and reading the mail from two days before.
Late in the morning, the thirteen year old twins Pan and Bacchus came bursting into the house through the pantry door in their usual high spirits. Appleby met them in the hallway where they ran to him and embraced him tightly.
"Oh, Master Mark, we missed you so much!" said Bacchus, "Athena and the baby--they haven't named her yet--are doing well" continued Pan, "but Mama Juno says we can't come back here for a few days yet," said Bacchus, "can you do without us?" finished Pan.
By answer Appleby roughly and playfully rubbed their kinky peppercorn hair and bent down to plant kisses on their wide, trumpet shaped lips. "Boys, Troy slept here last night," he said, uttering the bare truth. "His room needs cleaning and a fresh fire laid. He will be staying here while Athena recovers." The boys whistled low at the news in wonder, then considered that they had spent some nights in the main house, so they supposed that Troy was entitled to the same. Agreeing, they scampered upstairs. Returning to the study, Appleby smiled to himself as the sound of pattering footsteps upstairs told the tale. First, into his room, and a low muffled sound of exclamation. Then across the hall to find and enter Troy's room. Silence. Some animated, low voices. Then some whoops of laughter and the sound of two boys jumping on the sticky bed. Appleby continued working in the study until he heard the twins come down the stairs, their chores upstairs completed. He met them in the hallway; they were loaded down with laundry.
"We cleaned your room up, Master Mark," said Pan. "Troy's, too," said Bacchus, and both boys hung their heads to hide smiles, suppressing giggles and exchanging sidelong glances. "We're taking Troy's sheets to be washed," continued Bacchus, "but yours don't need to be," said Pan, pointedly. Smiling indulgently, Appleby slapped each one playfully on the rear and gave a packet of letters to the boys, asking them to give them to Troy for the mail boat. They agreed to do so and scampered out of the house.
Appleby spent the rest of the morning with papers and records in the study, then he examined the books in the library. It was not terribly large but was adequate, and contained a well balanced array on many subjects. He noted with interest that his Aunt Lucy must have kept it as current as her tastes and purse allowed, and he vowed to keep up that practice.
Before investigating the pantry to see what might be there for lunch, Appleby felt the call of nature and walked out across the lawn to the nearby outhouse. Both doors, to the men's and women's sides, stood ajar. Entering the men's side, he pulled shut the door with the shape of the sun cut out of the wood, pulled down his trousers and underwear, and settled over one of the two holes cut in the wide, rough plank seat. The place had a definite odor to it but its open construction in the back and the day's fresh sea breeze kept it from being positively unpleasant. Appleby examined a stack of weathered old newspapers kept in a corner of the stall for purposes of hygiene. The dates on them confirmed their appearance, they had been there for years. He was glad he had ordered subscriptions of fresh newspapers to be sent by the mail boat, even if it would take a week for any news to reach him.
Glancing at the ancient headlines on one, Appleby heard footsteps approaching the building. As they came nearer, it was plain that they were headed for the men's side. The door opened and in stepped Priam, blinking in the deep gloom of the outhouse. Momentarily blinded by the shade, and not expecting anyone else, the fifty year old father of Hector and Troy had unfastened the cord holding his rough breeches up when with a start he saw his master sitting on one of the two holes, his pants down around his ankles.
"Beg pardon, Master Mark, I'll... I'll come back later. Should I come back later?" Priam seemed unusually indecisive, as if unsure which would give greater offense, fleeing the outhouse at the sight of his master or sitting down and defecating next to him. "No, Priam, stay, please!" said Appleby. "There is room for two," he added humorously, indicating the adjoining hole with a flourish. Moving slowly, as if still unsure, Priam untied the cord and dropped his pants, then lowered himself over the second hole, two feet away from his master. Frankly watching him all the while, Appleby recognized the family trait of firm, high, muscular buttocks that he shared with his sons, and which Appleby had seen two nights ago when he spied through a torn curtain as Priam fucked his wife in their cabin. Appleby had not seen Priam's magnificent organ, though, as it had been buried inside the woman--and although his glimpse was brief it was clear that Priam's member was every bit as large as Troy's, heavy and massive. Priam settled on the hole and cleared his throat. His huge snake dived down the hole; Appleby could just see the start of the shaft, inky black and lightly oiled. A few grey hairs dusted the thick mat of pubic hair at the base of his abdomen. Appleby felt his own organ begin to twitch.
Both men sat letting nature take its course. Appleby's bowels moved audibly, to his relief, but he thought as he let out a soft groan that he saw Priam sneak a peek at his white master's exposed thigh, pubic hair, and the base of his own thick, pink shaft. Appleby's bowel movement inspired something in Priam, for with a grunt and a grimace on his craggy, black face he, too, expelled his waste into the hole below.
Relaxed in the aftermath, and waiting to see if there would be more, Priam seemed to loosen up socially as well. "Are you comfortable here, Master Mark?" he asked. "I expect it is all very different for you."
"Yes, very comfortable, thank you," he said. "I have.... I have so enjoyed meeting the people," he said in the understatement of the year. Deciding to probe Priam a bit more, and reaching for a sheet of newspaper with which to clean himself, he said, "I think I am something different for many of the people here as well!"
That brought a chuckle from the man, who turned his face, still handsome and strong after fifty years, toward his white master. "Yes, sir, we served Miss Lucy, of course, but very few, uh, others ever came to Seaward," he said. Then a little more softly, "Very few white people." He paused. "Hardly ever any white men," and Appleby was sure he glanced again, quickly, at his master's naked loins.
"Ah, I think I have sensed that in your sons, and in Pan and Bacchus," and then he quickly added, "and the others, of course. I think very few of them have seen many white men!"
Priam seemed to be making a decision as to what to say, how much of himself to reveal. Choosing his words carefully, he continued as he himself tore newspaper and cleaned himself. "I was.... I was taken from Africa when I was ten, Master Mark. Brought here on a ship and sold in the market in Charleston to Master Richardson's father, forty years ago. I saw many white men for the first time on the ships and many in Charleston." He paused, looking into the distance, remembering. "Some were kind and honorable." He paused again, and glanced quickly once more at his master's naked thigh and pubic area. "Some were not."
Rising suddenly he said, "Beg pardon, sir, I must be going." As he pulled up his loincloth and trousers quickly, Appleby was sure that Priam's massive penis had grown in the short while he was there, was standing out just a little from his muscular thighs. Appleby also rose to pull up his pants, and this time Priam did look at his master's penis, revealed for but a moment before he was clothed again. Clearing his throat, Priam led the way out of the structure into the sunlight. "Troy and I are taking the boat into Charleston in the morning, master. Would you like to come with us?" Eager for a change of scene, and seeing an opportunity to conclude some business with Horatio Smith, his attorney, Appleby quickly agreed. The men parted, and Appleby returned to the house for his simple lunch.
Entering the main house, Appleby washed his hands and face at the bath room pump in preparation for lunch. Hearing the pantry door open and close, Appleby walked around to find Troy standing in the hallway, looking left and right.
"Good afternoon, Master Mark," he said, his dark handsome face softening in a smile. "I came to see if you needed anything." Despite the pleasures he had shared with his master the night before and that morning, Troy was surprised when the white man stepped up to him and quickly embraced him, smiling into his own face and keeping a hand on his shoulder near the neck, gently massaging the dense muscle there. Appleby felt drawn to this powerful young man as to a magnet. Troy's dark color seemed to pull him in, the heavy muscles that filled out his loose shirt and rough trousers seemed weighted with gravity. The shirt, opened at the top to allow hard physical work, revealed a slight trickle of sweat running down through the valley between two solid globes of chest muscle. A wave of sheer delight ran through Appleby, and he leaned in again quickly to kiss the thick ebony trunk of his slave's neck, smelling the workday smells of sweat, sawdust, and smoke.
"I need that, Troy. Thank you for coming to see me. Have you eaten, would you like lunch?" Surprised anew at every kindness, every intimacy, Troy smiled again and said he had not eaten but would like to do so. Rummaging in the pantry for food left by the twins in between running errands at the birthing cabin, the two men sat down at a corner of the dining room table and ate. They talked lightly of the activities of the day--Appleby spared his slave a description of his visit with Priam--their talk often interrupted with soft laughter. Once, in a moment of mirth, Appleby covered Troy's hand, lying on the table top, with his own and squeezed. Troy smiled and shifted his hand around to oppose his tan palm to the pink and white palm of his master, dark fingers interlocking with white ones. Conversation stopped as both men simply looked at the sight, and each thought it was beautiful beyond words.
Their meal finished, Troy announced a need to return to his chores. The men rose and exchanged a quick kiss, then out the door went the black man. Warm weather having returned after the storm of the night before, Appleby decided that he would hike over the island, learning its features. Selecting a walking stick in the hallway, he set out on his adventure.
Appleby walked many of the paths on which Hector had led him before, enjoying the fresh green smells, the earthy vapors, that the storm had brought. A few branches were torn down by the wind, but otherwise there was little damage to the island. Appleby lingered at the gardens, fields, and meadows of Seaward this time, making calculations of the productivity of the island, how many crops its rich soil could support, ways to improve its fertility. In these stops he encountered the males of the island, even the twins, hoeing and planting, weeding and harvesting. Mama Juno also worked in the large vegetable garden; evidently Mama Cass remained to tend to her daughter-in-law. Appleby exchanged cordial greetings with everyone as he passed.
His walk eventually took him to the eastern side of the island, and to the beach there. Climbing up on a rock and looking east, he reminded himself that Africa lay there, ancestral home of his black slaves, and he wondered what it must look and feel like. Appleby continued walking until he found the cove of sand where he and Hector first found physical passion with each other. Sitting on the soft sand of the cove, pleasant memories brought a swelling to his groin. Hoping to recreate some of the feelings of that experience, but also feeling sweaty from his walk, he rose and removed his clothing, carefully laying the items over the surrounding bushes to dry them, and then ran naked into the sea.
In and out of waves, over and under, his strong body moved, becoming increasingly tanned by the Southern sun. Enjoying the exercise, he paused navel-deep in the gentle waves to wipe the salt water from his eyes and to catch his breath. Looking up at the beach, at the cove where he had left his clothing, he realized he was not alone. Squatting on the sand in the very spot where he had rested was Helen, the eleven year old sister of Troy and Hector. Seeing that she had been discovered, she jumped up and ran down the sand to the edge of the waves, which lapped at her toes as they rolled in to shore. She wore a simple, one piece shapeless dress that she was clearly meant to "grow into" as it was just a bit large for her. The neck of the garment slid just off of one shoulder, revealing dark, gleaming skin over a rounded muscle; she was well developed for a girl of her age. She smiled and waved vigorously.
"Hello, Master Mark!" she said. "What are you doing?"
"Good afternoon, Miss Helen," he said, bowing courteously, glad for the frothy waves that covered his nakedness. "I am swimming, if you please," he said with mock formality.
"I know," she said, giggling and covering her mouth with her hand. Looking around and out to sea, she asked, "Master Mark, do you have an ocean like this where you come from?"
"Indeed I do, in fact, it is the same ocean."
Her eyes grew wide in wonder and her mouth made an "Oh!" Appleby saw that she shared the dark coloring of the rest of her family, the same brilliant white teeth, the same dark smudge of eyebrow and wide, pear shaped nose. Her mouth, though, was different, undoubtedly inherited from her mother. While her father and brothers had a wide mouth and prominent, plumlike lower lip, her lips were also full but perfectly symmetrical top and bottom, and her mouth was not as wide, making a purple-brown rosebud. She wore her night- black hair in tufts--not braids but many twisted tufts about two inches long that spiked out from her head in all directions. Appleby thought it was strangely exotic, and although utterly new in his experience, attractive in its own way.
"I'm going swimming, too!" she announced, and before Appleby could comment or reflect, she ran back to the sandy cove, in one move pulled off her dress which she spread out on a bush, and ran toward the sea. As she approached, Appleby stared in surprise and fascination at her dark, lithe, boyish body. It was similar in many ways to her father and brother: deep dark chocolate skin, muscles well defined but softer and rounder as befitted her age and sex. Her belly was trim and taught, but showed neither fat nor the bulges of muscle that her male relatives sported. As she came close enough to splash into the water, Appleby could not see any hair on her body at all, not even her pubic area, where the clearly defined trough of the vagina could be seen in place of a penis and testicles--but her skin was so dark that there might have been some black curls there and he would not have seen them. Her breasts were the size of oranges, cupping out from a flat plane of thin muscle on her chest; they did not hang at all but simply pushed out, with a dark nipple in the center of each one. Although unmistakably female, in many ways she looked like a boy, like her brothers--a boy with small breasts and a hidden penis.
The water shone on her dark skin, reflecting the sun, water running in little streams between her breasts as she splashed into the water. She came within ten feet of her master and then, shrieking in delight, darted under the waves. For several minutes she popped up here and there around Appleby, swimming under the water from place to place, shouting to him each time she emerged. Laughing, he waved and called back to her. Was it his imagination or did she swim closer and closer to him with each passage? No, it must be true; once he felt her brush by his thigh as she wriggled by.
Eventually she emerged, splashing and blowing water, five feet from him and paused for breath. Sea water glinted in the matted tufts of her hair, and her boyish face broke into a big grin. Brown slave girl and white master regarded each other in smiling silence for a moment. Was it old memories of intimacies with the girls of his youth, or was it her resemblance to her brothers that caused a stirring in his penis, under the water? She broke the brief silence.
"Master Mark, are there black people where you come from? You know, people like me?"
"Yes, there are," he replied, "although I did not get to know many of them before I came here. I am sorry for that, I should have. I..." he hesitated, "I would have enjoyed it."
Moving her hands through the water to feel the motion of the waves, she stepped a little closer to Appleby. She was shorter than Hector, a little under five feet tall, nearly as tall as Pan and Bacchus. The water, waist high on Appleby, swirled just over her small breasts.
"We don't see many white people here," she said. "We don't see many white men at all, master!" she continued, giggling as if it were a great treat to encounter such a spectacle. A larger wave than usual crashed around them, now only three feet apart, threatening to knock her off her feet, covering her mouth and nose and momentarily lifting her from her feet.
"It's too deep here, master, come!" she said, and reached out to grab his hand. Appleby realized that she was pulling him in toward shore, and that his penis, which had begun to swell ominously with her physical closeness, would soon be visible. He thought for a moment of protesting, then decided to let matters take their course. He followed as she tugged at his hand, the naked dark-colored girl pushing through the water with a sense of purpose. He saw that her bottom had the high, upward push of her brothers' butts, but a slight swelling of the bones of the pelvis gave a more feminine promise to it. Together they rose from the water until it was just below his knees, and just below the well defined notch of her vagina.
"There!' she said, turning around, "that's better!" She kept tight hold of his hand though, even as she faced him. A look of curiosity and surprise came over her face as she saw her master's tanned white body for the first time in its complete nakedness. The color of his skin, the texture of his hair, fascinated her. Coming closer, she reached up with her free hand to run her fingers through his wet, long brown hair, to trace the path of light brown hair at the center of his chest that ran down across his belly, to rub his rose colored nipples. Appleby's penis, already swelling, sprang fully to life as her small dark brown fingers neared his pubic area. She was close enough so that it pushed out against her, gently nudging her at the top of her slim, boyish brown belly. She giggled in delight and squeezed his hand harder. The slave girl paused for a moment and then quickly grasped her white master's organ in her dark brown fist. Silently she began running her fist up and down the shaft of the organ. Clear precum flowed out and mixed with seawater. "Ooooo" she cooed, and briefly rubbed the slick liquid over the dark purple head of his dick.
Appleby was beside himself, balanced between her close resemblance to her brothers and the unmistakable evidence of being a girl. Releasing his hand from hers, he cupped both of her small breasts in his palms, kneading them softly, running his thumbs around her nipples. Giggling happily, she applied the hand he had now freed to his penis, clutching two dark brown fists around the organ. The pace of her pumping increased gradually as a look of concentration came over her face, focused on his stiff rod, belly, and chest.
"Master Mark," she whispered, "do white men make juice like black boys do?"
"Yes," he said, more a moan than a statement. Wondering how she knew what black boys do, he kneaded her perfectly round breasts more vigorously. She increased the pace of pumping his hose, tightening her grip.
"Is it the same color of juice that black boys make?" she asked, a little breathlessly.
"You are about to find out," he said in a hoarse whisper, and with that he heaved his groin forwards. Three long ropes of white cum shot out and landed on the wet, dark, sun- bright skin of her belly and between her breasts. She kept pumping and another great shot of cum landed on her dark brown neck and chin. Appleby issued a long, continuous groan from deep in his chest as his hips clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed. He squeezed her round, black breasts hard, but she did not protest.
Inexpertly, she kept pumping at the same hard, vigorous pace. "Slow down!" he gasped, and she complied, now simply massaging and squeezing her master's organ, which gave him intense shivers of pleasure. Rivulets of slimy semen began making their way down her wet, dark skin. Eventually, he released her breasts, and taking that as a hint, she removed her hands from his engorged shaft. It flopped down, dribbling semen into the foamy water. Smiling at each, the white man leaned over quickly and kissed her full rosebud lips. She smiled brilliantly, then slipped around him and dove into the sea. He followed, both white man and dark brown slave girl cleaning themselves in the healing waters of the ocean. Going a little farther out, he turned to see her emerge from the sea, running back towards the cove, pumping leg muscles working her muscular butt. He began moving toward shore also, but not quickly enough. Snatching her simple dress from off of the bush, she slipped it on over her slim brown body just as he was emerging from the water. She waved, smiled at him the brilliant smile that her brothers shared, then turned and push through the bushes and was gone. He heard the movement of the undergrowth for a moment, then all was quiet.
Happy and tired from the day's labors, both in and out of bed, Appleby came out of the water and let the late afternoon sun dry him on the beach. Dressing, he made his way back up the familiar path toward the big house. Entering, he examined the mail that Troy had brought that day from the passing mail boat, which prompted another round of letters to be prepared to go out in the morning. Making a simple sandwich from supplies in the pantry, he sat on the verandah, rocking and munching, listening to the sounds of the slaves as they went here and there about their business.
Twilight darkened to night, the moon rose, and insects sang as Appleby rocked, thought, and made plans. Hearing steps coming around the side of the verandah, he was pleased to see Troy's dark figure walk up the porch stairs, a smile revealing white teeth that matched the brilliance of his clean shirt.
"Hello, Master Mark," he said. "Did you eat?"
"Yes, did you?"
"Yes sir, I did." The strong black man stood near his master and looked out into the night, inhaling the scents of the evening, honeysuckle and sea air. "I just bathed in the sea, master, down at the pier," he said.
"I did also, on the east side of the island," replied Appleby, both men smiling companionably at each other. "Sit, Troy," said Appleby, indicating the rocker beside him, "I'll be right back." Appleby walked quickly into the study, then came back out again onto the porch, holding two snifters half-full of Napoleon brandy. He gave one to his slave who thanked him in words and with a full smile. Both men sat quietly, rocking peacefully, making small talk about the night, the good health of Athena and her baby, the work of the plantation.
Sounds from the grounds and cabins around the house faded away as the people made ready for the night. Appleby, his and Troy's glasses drained, stood. "Come," he said softly, and held out a tanned white hand. Troy took hold of it with his dark brown hand and stood. Side by side, the two walked into the hallway and up the stairs to bed.