The Incredible Journey of Thomas Johnson
Copyright© 2017 – Nicholas Hall
"Like the patriarchs of old, our men live all in one house
with their wives and their concubines,
and the mulattoes one sees in every family exactly resemble the white children
and every lady tells you who the father of all the mulatto children in everybody's
household, but those in her own she seems to think drop from the clouds,
or pretends so to speak.- (Mary Chestnut, March 18, 1861)
A Toot on the Horn
Morning brought not a wake-up call from the roosters in the barnyard, but instead, in the fading darkness of the pre-dawn, a moist, warm suctioning of my most stiff male member by a pair of soft, delicate lips and a flicking tongue tickling my cockhead, piss-slit, and the little valley separating the bare helmet decorating the end. I moaned softly, enjoying the ministrations being applied by young lips to my sensitive staff! It was a feeling I'd not enjoyed in many years, except from older, maturing lads nearer my own age after I'd left the foster care system. Luxuriating in that sexual delight, I was further delighted when a pair of coltish, light tanned legs straddled my midriff rubbing a three inch uncut spike across my stomach as Benjie leaned forward and engaged my lips and tongue with his. This, I concluded, was not his first experience with boy to boy love!
Continuing to kiss me, I felt another pair of hands take over when the lips departed and begin massaging my cock with a slick, rose smelling lubricant or emollient. "Aha!" I thought, "the horny little rascals brought some of Celeste's ointment with them or found the tin Jefferson gave me the evening before," as the aromatic, delicate essence permeated the air!
Running my hands softly down the smooth skin back of the boy on my stomach down to his soft, but firm mounds of his inviting ass, I reached that valley of delight, slipped my middle finger in, located his small puckered entrance and found, to my surprise, it was already lubricated and ready for a visit. He raised his small buttocks up, scooted back, disengaging from my lips, and once positioned, I felt the small hands of the second lad hold my stiff rod, center it on that young rosebud, and watch as Benjie began squatting on it!
"I don't think it will fit," I said cautiously as he began grunting slightly trying to let my stiff cock invade his bowel.
"Oh, yes it will!" he answered determinedly and began wiggling and pushing until I felt the head pop past his anal ring and began stretching that delightful portal to his inner self. Slowly, slowly, so as to ease the passage, Benjie lowered himself until my pubic bush tickled his puckered entrance and his oh, so, sweet mounds made contact! He uttered not a sound during this process, but a smile of pleasure and delight appeared on his face as he began riding up and down on the bologna pony! His trip and mine was further enhanced when Henri's face, grinning happily, appeared and he leaned forward and suctioned Benjie's cock into his mouth, giving Benjie satisfaction as he worked to satisfy me. As Benjie fucked me by riding on my cock, Henri's mouth provided a receptacle for Benjie, guaranteeing he'd fire a round (dry of course) as well!
I knew I wouldn't last long, it'd been way too long since I'd had the orgasmic pleasure of fucking a pre-pubescent boy, since Benjie's rectal muscles were massaging me as I met his thrusts, spearing myself even deeper into that warm, soft, smooth, moist tunnel of love he offered me. I felt him begin to shudder, experiencing a hard, dry orgasm and I fired as well, depositing my copious offering up into his accepting receptacle!
I was still twitching inside him when he sudden dismounted, leaving my throbbing cock waving in the air, and Henri quickly mounted and began wiggling and pushing until I was again seated in a boy's moist hole! I was amazed I softened but little and soon was as hard as a granite monument standing tall in the courthouse square! He rode me with the same enthusiasm as Benjie had and while doing so, Benjie sucked Henri's hard little spike in the same manner as Henri did for him!
By all the Saints, it wasn't long until I began experiencing another strong orgasm and released, albeit not as much, my man-seed deep into Henri as he also shuddered his dry orgasm in response. Clearly, these boys had fucked and sucked each other on more than one occasion and if I wasn't mistaken had been royally fucked by someone else as well since they knew how to pleasure themselves and another person or two as well!
Henri, now temporarily sexually sated, leaned forward and rested his head on my right shoulder as I popped out. Benjie, cuddled up to me as well, resting his head on my left shoulder. They knew, as well as I did, we couldn't spend much time since they had chores to do and school to attend that day.
"Good morning!" they chorused and I returned their greeting. As they climbed off of me and the bed, I gave each of their bare butts a loving, gentle swat and they just giggled at me, retrieved their night shirts from the floor, and scampered off to their room to get dressed. I was confident after that, I'd have company most nights I continued to live here; and I welcomed it!
I rose from my bed, poured water into the basin on the night stand, washed my face and brushed my teeth. I checked my cock for residue and, finding very little, used a cloth to clean it. I hoped the boys wiped the cum from their ass cracks before going to school or everyone would wonder what they'd been up to. I shaved with cold water; fortuitously I was accustomed to using a safety razor and had a pack of twenty double bladed disposable razors with me, as well as a container of shaving cream. The shaving cream wouldn't last as long as the razors, if I was forced to remain in this time and place, so I'd have to locate a bar of shaving soap, a brush, and while at it, a straight razor. "That should be fun to learn to use," I thought as I began swiping the whiskers from my face.
My morning oblations complete, except for a visit to the outhouse and breakfast, I headed to the Doucet household to do both. I detoured from my trip to the kitchen, visited the outhouse, and returned to the kitchen for breakfast.
Breakfast with the Doucet family was a treat, I found after arriving here, not only for the food served, but for the conversation and conviviality. This morning we were joined by the four hired hands that slept in the bunkhouse. Ordinarily, they completed their breakfasts earlier than I did and, for some reason, were still here drinking coffee. It did give me the opportunity to meet and visit with them. They too had been with Chapman for a number of years but were circumspect concerning how they arrived here. I wasn't certain if they'd traveled up north with Chapman or what was the occasion of their residency. They were pleasant, relatively young, happy men of color and very devoted and loyal to Chapman. According to the story the four of them told, if hadn't been for Chapman, they would've remained a slave or worse until he wrote their freedom papers soon after he purchased River Oaks and, after deciding to sell and leave, insisted they come with him! This kind of loyalty they felt and his concern for their welfare welded together a strong working and personal relationship with Chapman as the owner of the farm and friend. Although I didn't doubt their loyalty to Mr. Chapman, for some reason, I held in abeyance the veracity of the story they told. For some reason, they just didn't seem to be the type of individuals raised in an uneducated, southern slave-holding plantation. They were, perhaps, mid-twenties or younger, attractive, slim, but well-developed from their work here on the farm.
Mr. Chapman also joined us this morning for his breakfast instead of taking it in the dining room of the main house. Evidently the medicine prepared for him by Celeste revived him quite satisfactorily since he seemed robust, healthy (except for his weight), and good spirits for a person his age as he chatted and joked with everyone. When he laughed, his eyes sparkled and his face beamed with happiness in a similar manner to both Henri and Benjie.
The boys, having completed their chores, came into the kitchen, stood a moment while Chapman gave them each a hug and questioned them concerning their school work. Both confirmed school was going well, their work for the day was completed, and school would be out in less than two weeks. He was delighted and let the boys know. As they stood there, I couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance the boys had to each other and to Chapman. It struck me then, seeing the three of them together, Edwin Chapman was father to both of the boys!
Benjie and Henri were half-brothers and I'd bet no one's told them otherwise or even spoke of it, if they knew or suspected it since I would imagine one didn't' speak of those things in this day's age or circumstances. Well, I'd keep the secret, if it was so, as well unless I was told to do otherwise. I was curious to hear Celeste discuss her part in the relationship with Chapman. Vowing to approach the subject if the opportunity arose and she was willing to discuss it with me, I would do so.
The breakfast done, people scattering to various parts of the farm to complete their daily tasks, the boys off to school, and Chapman to his library/study to await my appearance for our daily meeting while he was in residence, I quickly made my way to the machine shed before heading to Chapman's. I wanted to visit with Hiram concerning a project I had in mind after watching the men shower with cold water the day before. I hoped he could construct what I had in mind, knowing it would work for summertime, but uncertain about winter. Well, winter would pose another issue, but I was certain, using Twentieth Century knowledge in the Nineteenth Century, I could suggest a solution which would work. Stepping back in time seemed to have its advantages, at least for me!
Roughly drawn plans for my idea were presented to Hiram as I explained the purpose and the process behind what I proposed. He understood immediately what I wanted and the enthusiasm he showed encouraged me to believe it'd indeed be something everyone would appreciate. He concluded he could do what I requested if he but had the necessary piping and connections and urged me to ask Mr. Chapman to "please order whats I needs!" I smiled and told him I would do all I could to convince Mr. Chapman to approve the order. There was no doubt Chapman would approve what I requested since he seemed to think I had the inside track on most things.
I scurried back to the main house and met with Chapman in his study. I immediately sought his permission to order the necessary piping and connections and he approved, provided we could find a way to supply the main house as well. I assured him there would be a way to do so, but it might take some time, digging, and more pipe, along with certain other items. He smiled, winked, and said, "It'd be nice, especially if we had guests in attendance, wouldn't it?" The old boy wasn't fooling me any, he was looking at play time as well! Strange as it may seem, Chapman never blinked an eye when he said "order what you need!"
Once my order was written out and approved, we settled down to business, paying bills, reviewing supplies and equipment needed for the spring planting. I spent the rest of the morning working with him in preparation for the new employees the farm would need for planting and the extra land he was contemplating in purchasing, in addition to the four hundred acres he was in the process of completing the transaction for. Posting his receipts and disbursements, sorting out the various accounts he had, occupied the rest of my morning.
Monthly, he made a trip to Keokuk to the bank to deposit or withdraw funds or for other financial transactions (as well as stick his pecker up some young girls hairless slit). I couldn't see anywhere in his account books when or where he borrowed money for any of his business dealings. He had considerable funds on deposit at the bank in Keokuk and also in several other banks scattered about in the east. I questioned the wisdom of these large deposits since, if my history served me correctly, things were a bit chaotic after the end of the Civil War and the country would face another "panic" in 1873. Although it was still a few years away, the insidiousness of the approach should give one pause, if one knew about it in advance, which I did!
I also noticed he'd invested rather substantially in several railroads. I really questioned those investments since the railroad tycoons, in the aftermath of the Civil War and completion of the Trans-Continental Railroad, would renege on their obligations to pay stockholders as history would later record. He was most reluctant to even discuss this since he felt rails were a good investment. They were, but not at this time. I finally told him this might be a good time to take a profit, claiming, "there are some things I learned, prior to coming here, that cause me to be distrustful of the investment in rails at this time." Chapman, believing I was somehow a government agent, albeit now unemployed but still connected, finally accepted my advice and vowed to dump his railroad stock on his next trip to Keokuk next week. Little did I expect him to do what he did with the proceeds, however.
Our office and financial business concluded for the day, Mr. Chapman said he had some letters to write, so I went to the small room, soon to be my office once the furnishing arrived, across the hall, and spent the rest of the morning working on his ledgers, balancing accounts, and preparing orders for supplies for the home and the farms. I'd send them with Mr. Chapman next week when he intended on going to Keokuk. I also looked up the wages he'd paid the year before, the number of extra hired hands he hired then, and total costs for food and other supplies. He paid his permanent employees once a month and that pay day would be the end of April, still a couple of weeks away.
The land purchase on the four hundred acres he desired was to be completed next week, one of the reasons for his traveling to Keokuk. According to Mr. Chapman and Hannibal, we'd need at least two more hired men to help Jacque on that particular piece of property. If, per chance, the two men might be married, then another hired man's house would have to be constructed. There was already a main house and one smaller one for the hired help. We'd have to put two families in it until we could construct another house.
Additionally, if the information I'd accessed in his ledgers was correct, we'd hire an additional eight to ten farmhands to help with the planting in the spring and then again with harvesting in the fall. I had no idea how Mr. Chapman would find them and then put them to work, but I supposed as time went on, I'd learn!
There was a great deal to learn about farming in the nineteenth century, but, since I knew not if I could ever return to my own time, I resolved in the meantime, to learn as much as I could if I was locked in this time.
Close to lunch, I wandered over to the Doucet house. The ladies had lunch prepared for the men working in the field and Jubal was loading them in a buckboard pulled by two horses. He gave me a grin and a wave, climbed up on the buckboard seat, flicked the reins and left to deliver the meals. For the life of me, I wondered how the women of this century found time to prepare meals, preserve food, mend clothes, do housework, have babies, and, as if there wasn't enough to do, handle the milking, gardening, and all those other things associated with just keeping food on the table and everything cleaned up!
After lunch, I asked Celeste if I could visit with her concerning the needs she might see in the coming year since we were obtaining more property, two babies and more help. I also hoped to gain a little more knowledge concerning her background and how she arrived here. During our conversation she acknowledged there was much to consider, but beyond the kitchen, garden, and being the healer, she preferred to leave the rest up to Mr. Chapman, Hannibal, and now me.
"The babies," she allowed after I expressed my concerns, "won't be any problem. I'll just deliver them here and everything will be fine. These won't be the first little ones that had my help coming into this world."
"Why is that?" I asked curiously. Her comments concerning birthing the new babies, acting as a midwife so to speak, provided the perfect opportunity to make my inquiries about her past and how she came to be here on Chapman Farms.
"Oh," she laughed, "there've been several babies born on this property since I came here and I assisted them all into this world."
Before I could ask more, she continued, "Growing up, I was fortunate to have a doctor as a father and, when I grew older, I accompanied him on his rounds. I became his nurse and helped him deliver babies, prescribe medicines, and refill his meager supplies through the use of medicinal herbs. Colored people found it difficult to receive medical care since white doctors generally wouldn't treat them. The backstreets of New Orleans and the surrounding areas had plenty of poor colored to take care of and we did."
"As a free man of color, he'd serve not only the free colored but slaves as well if the master requested it. My father, as well as me, found slavery contemptible, but he and the rest of us kept fairly quiet about it since, if you became too vocal or stepped out to lead opposition, you took a chance of being spirited away serendipitously and sold off into slavery somewhere else or ended up dead on the back streets, canals, or the river. Anyone with color was considered black and a slave. New Orleans, however, had a substantial free colored population so we weren't pestered as much to show our papers there as in other parts of Louisiana."
When she expressed a desire to learn more, her father arranged for her to work in an apothecary shop in New Orleans that served the free colored community. The apothecary was also an herbalist and did a great deal with various medicine herbs found in and about the area. One day, while working in the shop, Mr. Chapman came in seeking some medications for his "workers." Celeste suspected they were slaves and, after listening to his description of the illness, she gave him some powders and potions. She thought that'd be the last she saw of him. A month later Chapman was back, extolling her virtues and powers as a healer and made her an offer of employment at River Oaks.
"That was 1853," she said with a sigh, "never in a million years would I have believed I'd still be here and what all happened since!"
"There was no mistress of the house; Mr. Chapman's wife died some years before back in Iowa, so I assumed those duties as well."
"How about Benjie's mother?" I asked.
"Marie? She didn't show up until, let's see, had to be 1855."
Celeste hesitated, as if trying to decide to continue. Finally, began again, "You have to understand Mr. Chapman is a very understanding, caring, gentle, and loving person, but he does have some different ways of `taking his pleasures,' if you know what I mean!"
I was quite aware of that!
"He'd travel to New Orleans or some other place and every so often he'd bring home a young girl for a short time or even a couple of months, then return them to wherever they came from. He'd go just so long without one around and take off again and bring home another one. Mr. Chapman preferred young girls, those who hadn't gotten into their `woman-hood," but really was not particular especially if he had a strong need!"
One day in 1855 he came home with Marie Broussard; she was young (barely fourteen she claimed), white or at least Cajun or of French extraction since she was "naturally tanned," as Celeste put it. Within a couple of months after being Mr. Chapman's "placees" she was pregnant, "Probably before she arrived," Celeste assumed.
"She was a terrible patient to deal with," Celeste said in disgust. "She was sick all the time, complained about every little ache and pain, and demanded to be waited on. Marie made no bones about her `white' status and her superiority to the rest of us. When Benjie was born, he popped out as smooth as can be, with no troubles at all. She refused to nurse the baby or care for him, so I took over. Henri was a month old and I had plenty of milk so I nursed Benjie as well and cared for him. Mr. Chapman recorded his birth in the family bible and with the parish, claiming him as his own. A month after Benjie was born, Marie was gone. He was a good baby and he and Henri grew up almost as brothers."
"Is that why they speak French so well?" I asked.
"We all do," she responded. "New Orleans French that is; kind of a mixture of `real' French and Cajun. If you're raised in that country, French is more than just a second language, it becomes a necessity to communicate. We continued to use it up here since it gave us the opportunity to talk to each other without others knowing what we were saying. Most people up here don't speak it. Benjie's mother spoke mostly it, but not refined like she thought she did. No, Marie put on airs, even as young as she was."
As I listened to Celeste, I felt she was convinced Marie was not entirely "white" but made no comments to the contrary. I wasn't convinced Henri was all "colored" either since I'd seen him, Benjie, and Mr. Chapman together, but held my thoughts to myself.
"How about the four farm hands I met this morning? They seem quite loyal to Mr. Chapman and indicated they'd been with him for some time." I inquired.
She laughed aloud saying, "Now, that's a different story!"
To be continued.
Thank you for reading "The Incredible Journey of Thomas Johnson" – Chapter Eleven.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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