Date: Sun, 1 Jul 2012 13:27:19 +0000
From: lokiaga@austin.rr.com
Subject: Rue Dauphine 26

Rue Dauphine 26
Lance Kyle

Although the great storm seemed to have done no lasting damage, the people
of the house in the Rue Dauphine kept finding things to repair: a hinge
loose here, some shingles down there.  The latest fugitives, the older man
Pompey, ten year old Cassius, and twenty year old Washington, were limited
in how they could help because of the need to keep hidden.  So they worked
inside the house.  In another day or two, word came from Mama Désirée
that a ship would come for them in the morning.

The household was sad at this departure; they always felt a sense of loss
when fugitives were leaving, and usually a sense of apprehension as well.
But these guests had gone through danger with them together, danger from
the storm and from the slave catchers in the house.  And above all, the
visitors had lost one of their own to illness soon after their arrival.  So
the evening before they left was both sad and festive as many a toast was
raised to their success.

The three fugitives had all had very different experiences with the sexual
freedom of the house.  Washington had no interest in men, and everyone
honored that preference; Elsie and Mary took him to bed each night, often
the three of them together.  And so they sat next to him on that last
night, arms around his waist and shoulders, exchanging sad smiles.  Pompey
was content to avoid sexual contact.  He had made friends with Moses, and
the two had slept together companionably, but not sexually, and the house
honored that as well.  As for ten year old Cassius, he was taken up
immediately by twelve year old Sampson, who could use his two year
advantage to lord it over the younger black boy, and he did.  He recruited
his sister Delilah to take Cassius's virginity.  Sampson and Cassius were
turning in for the night and in walked Delilah, casually dropping her
nightgown as she strode to the bed.  Sampson placed Cassius on top of his
mulatto sister, coaching the dark brown boy as to what to do, helping him
insert his rampant but small cock into his sister's vagina, and encouraging
the younger boy's pumping motions with a hand on the buttocks.  Cassius
came, shuddering, but without an ejaculation.

The two boys in bed had slept close to one another, which naturally led to
playful experimentation.  Sampson encouraged Cassius to manipulate his own
medium brown mulatto dick, and when Sampson grunted and squeezed his
buttocks together, shooting out a small load of white semen, Cassius was
fascinated by it and asked if the older boys and men produced more of it.
He made a point of asking whether Cloud and Scott made semen of the same
color as the blacks and the mulatto Sampson; being assured that they did,
that neither white nor Indian mattered in that regard, Cassius began to
hint that he would like to see such a thing.

So it was that on the last night before their departure, Sampson whispered
to Scott at the farewell dinner; Scott nodded yes; Sampson whispered to
Cassius, and the ten year old dark brown boy's face broke into a delighted
and amazed grin.  He kept sneaking peeks of wonder at Scott during the rest
of the dinner, and Scott frequently returned a wink.

The dinner concluded and Sampson collected Scott, with Cassius smiling
shyly, and led the way to the big bed in Scott's room.  The two boys and
the eighteen year old man began disrobing, smiling at each other all the
while.

"Cassius," said Scott, "Sampson tells me you are curious about...about men,
and white men in particular, and the semen we make, is that true?"  Cassius
blushed even darker than his chocolate, if possible, but nodded as he
ducked his head with an embarrassed smile.  "That's alright," said Scott.
"Have you seen a man or boy make semen, the white stuff, other than
Sampson?"  Cassius shook his head no.  "I'm sure you have seen black men
and boys naked...white men or boys?" asked Scott as he removed the last of
his undergarments, his semi-erect penis now curving out from under his bush
of pubic hair.  Cassius gulped and looked hard at the organ, then
remembering he had been asked a question he shook his head no.  "That's
alright," said Scott.  "Do you want to look more closely, perhaps to touch
it?"

Cassius nodded again and took the few steps that brought him close to
Scott.  At first shy, his interest in the dusky rose rod of the white man
overcame his reticence and he began looking at it closely, then gently
grasping it and lifting it to examine it all around.  Scott instantly
sprang to full erection, causing Cassius to giggle and, secretly, to admire
his own powers of stimulation.  "It look jes' like a black one, but not so
black, Masta," he said.  He took a moment more to study this phenomenon,
then let it go and stood up, smiling at the white man in front of him.  His
own deep chocolate little hairless penis now stuck straight out.

Scott reached down and pulled the ten year old chocolate brown boy up into
an embrace, the boy's legs wrapping easily around the top of his hips, the
boy's stiff little cock sliding up against Scott's abdomen, his thin brown
arms holding on to the white man's shoulders while Scott cupped the boy's
rounded buttocks to support him.  Man and boy smiled at each other in this
loving embrace and then Scott kissed him, gently and easily, then as the
boy learned what to do and responded it became more passionate.  Beneath
Cassius's bottom, being kneaded by Scott's strong hands, Sampson took the
knob of the white man's penis in his mouth and gently sucked it.  The three
held this sweet position for a few minutes more, then Scott walked to the
bed and deposited the black boy on it, Sampson leaping up to lie next to
him.  Scott lay on top of him, his palms splayed against the bed and his
torso cantilevered up off the black boy.

Scott smiled down at Cassius.  "Cassius, we will do just what you want to
do and no more.  If you don't like something, say so and we will stop," he
said.  Scott had no intention of penetrating the boy, not this young, not
so soon in his sexual education, but he wanted it to be a good experience.
Cassius nodded yes.  Scott ground his groin into the boys, sliding his
erect penis up and down over the boy's genitals.  Cassius ran his hands all
over the white man's chest and abdomen, exploring, while Sampson nibbled
Cassius's lips, ears, and neck as his own medium brown penis came to full
stiffness.

Cassius's hands continued to explore Scott's body as the white man now slid
down the slim brown boy's body, kissing and nibbling, and ending at the
stiff little deep dark cocklet standing rampant above a tight, small
ballsack.  The boy groaned in pleasure as Scott took the little rod into
his mouth, nibbling and nuzzling with his lips, sucking it, rubbing it with
his tongue.  Instinctively the boy began thrusting up his pelvis, squeezing
his buttocks, and before long he began to quiver and then half sat up with
a jerk, exclaiming "Oh! Oh! Masta!" and then falling back again, limp.
Scott looked up at him and smiled, the dry penis still in his mouth, and
then released the wilting organ and slid up alongside the smiling boy.

"Now what do YOU want to do with me?"  he asked.  Cassius smiled, then sat
up and leaning across the white man's abdomen he grasped the iron hard
dusky rose penis and began pumping it.  "Put it in your mouth!" said
Sampson.  Cassius paused, considered, then shook his head no and continued
pumping.  It was a step for which he was not ready.  Scott propped himself
up on his elbows to watch Cassius masturbate him, while Sampson caressed
and kissed Cassius.  Clear fluid began to leak more and more from the white
man's penis.  "That's not it, is it?" asked Cassius, and Scott, breathing
heavily now, shook his head no.  Cassius went back to his work, and in a
moment Scott began groaning and then with a cry he thrust his pelvis up,
squeezing his buttocks, and a fountain of white semen shot up and onto his
abdomen and over Cassius's hand.  A few drops sprayed onto both the black
and mulatto boy as they watched the spectacle.  Cassius stopped pumping but
kept his grip on the penis, feeling the pulsing of blood in the veins, the
potent heat.  Sampson dipped a finger into a dollop of semen near Scott's
navel and scooped up a drop, which he sucked from his finger, Cassius
watching intently.  He repeated the motion and offered it to Cassius.  The
black boy looked dubious, but then stuck out his tongue and licked the drop
off the finger.  He nodded thoughtfully but did not ask for more.

Now Sampson squatted across Scott's upper thighs and motioned to Cassius to
pump him as well.  The dark brown boy did so, and it was not long at all
before Sampson squirted out a small dose of his twelve year old's semen,
which landed onto the star map of white fluid already on Scott's abdomen.
Panting, Sampson stirred his semen into Scott's, then sucked his fingers,
and again offered a taste to Cassius.  A little more willing now, Cassius
licked them off, but did not go for more.  The three collapsed together
onto the bed, snuggling and caressing, and soon all three fell asleep.

The next morning Scott rose from a deep sleep blissfully, and then realize
that his morning erection was being gently sucked by Cassius.  Propping
himself up in bed he blinked down with a questioning look at the boy, who
looked back up at him along the plane of his torso.  "I thought about it,
Masta...I wanta taste it," he said.  Scott nodded and kept still for a
moment, enjoying the attention.  Beside him Sampson stirred awake, looked
around, and cried "Oh!" at the sight.  Then Scott got to his haunches and
pulled Cassius up in bed, resting his head comfortably against the pillows.
Squatting on either side of the boy's chest, he offered his rigid penis
again to the black boy's full lips, and Cassius eagerly took it, putting
his hands around the white man's buttocks to facilitate his movement.
Sampson quickly scrambled over and took Cassius's hard little penis into
his own mouth, his head just out of the way of Scott's swinging hips.

Better able to control his ejaculation, Scott timed himself to Cassius's
own rising excitement.  He gently swung his hips back and forth, sliding
his penis in and out of the boy's mouth.  Just as soon as he heard the
black boy's breathing get heavier and the beginning of a high pitched
keening moan, Scott quickly began fanning his hips back and forth as
Cassius sucked even harder.  Just as Cassius gave a muffled groan and his
boyish body spasmed, Scott ejaculated, shooting his morning load into the
boy's mouth.  Sampson sucked the boy's rigid little dry cock until the
spasm stopped.  Scott could hear the sound of swallowing from Cassius, who
was looking straight up the wall of Scott's abdomen and chest with bright
eyes.  Once Scott gave a last shudder and emptied his last drop into the
boy's mouth, he pulled out.  "How was it?"  he asked Cassius, and the black
boy could only smile.

Sampson sidled up next to him on the bed.  "Wanna suck me, too?" he asked.
Cassius considered and agreed.  Sampson took the same position that Scott
had, while Scott shifted back and began sucking Cassius's penis.  The
twelve year old Sampson wasted no time, pounding his medium brown cock in
and out of the black boy's mouth as fast as he could, and soon with a sharp
cry he jerked once, pushed his groin forward, and shot a small load, easily
swallowed, into Cassius.  Scott could tell the ten year old was unlike to
climax again, so as soon as Sampson collapsed to the side he surrender the
black boy's penis and snuggled in on the other side.

But soon the day's responsibilities would begin, so all three went hand in
hand to the shower room to clean themselves.  Breakfast was bittersweet, as
farewells were exchanged.  Scott made sure the men were well armed with
pistols and well supplied with gold to establish themselves in their new
lives.  Sampson choked back tears giving Cassius a final embrace, as did
Cassius in hugging Scott tightly.  The community in the house was learning
that partings like these were going to be part of their experiences on the
Railroad.

Scott, Cloud, and King took the fugitives down to the waterfront, where
they discovered that the ship that would take the fugitives to freedom was
already waiting.  Scott and Cloud performed their magic and conveyed what
appeared to be three white spinsters onto the vessel.  They were not
surprised to see what appeared to be an increased presence of police around
the dock area, after the murders of the marshalls just before the
hurricane, but there was no real difficulty.  As the three made their way
back, walking from the stables after dropping off the horse and wagon, they
noticed that the wind had picked up.  The skies were cloudy but not yet
threatening; they hoped their friends would make it safely, as least as far
as refuge in Mobile Bay, before any new hurricane arose.

Entering the house, they were greeted by Cleopatra and Niobe.  The older
woman said, "Master Scott, come with me; something strange is going on."
Scott bade Cloud and King come as well, the first two clutching their magic
rings in anticipation, King making sure he had a pistol in his belt.
Cleopatra led the way into the house, into the wing and the stairs that led
down into the wine cellar, with the hidden room beyond.  Several other
members of the household gathered around the top of the stairs as the five
descended.  As soon as the group stood at the bottom of the stairs, in
front of the wine cellar door, Cleopatra held up her hand and said,
"Listen!"

Everyone became very quiet.  And then they heard it.  Was it wind?  Was it
voices singing?  Scott bounded up the stairs to fetch his keys, and
returning he opened the door to the wine cellar.  Here they could still
hear the sound, although it was not as clear.  Coming back to the bottom of
the steps, there it was again, a long, intermittent sound as of angels
weeping.  Scott had to admit it was unnerving, but he paused to consider.
The wind outside HAD been increasing in strength.  He did not think it was
supernatural, and it did not increase as they had moved into the cellar and
closer to the room with magic books...and the room with his Uncle
Balthazar's coffin beyond that far wall.  He asked Cloud for his
impressions, the Indian being by heritage well attuned to such matters and
Cloud stood still for a moment and then shook his head.  No, no it was not
supernatural.

Suddenly King pointed to the floor and said, "Master Scott, look!"  There
was a thin trickle of water coming from the stone wall behind the steps.
Bending down to look, Scott could hear the sound more clearly.  He bade the
others do the same and they agreed.  There was some excited discussion and
then common agreement: there was something on the other side of that wall.
After further discussion they all noted that the recent hurricane was of
sufficient power to move heaven and earth...perhaps "something" had been
shifted, knocked loose, deep underground.  They had to know what it was.

The men fetched tools while the women shared the news with the rest of the
household.  Probing very carefully, beginning with the area that still
trickled a little water, they loosened a stone and pulled it toward them.
The tone of the sound abruptly changed, as if a musical instrument were
being tuned, and they could see utter darkness—instead of
earth—beyond.  Still carefully, they removed another stone; the hole was
still too small to enter.  Then Cloud put his hand up for silence and asked
them to raise the lantern high.  Studying the stones carefully, putting his
hands on them, he whispered "Chisel here" and "Chisel here" as he pointed
to the seam of mortar holding the heavy stones together.  He was describing
what seemed to be an arch.  Stone by stone was removed, more easily as the
work went on, and in the end they did indeed have an archway opening onto
blackness.  It was no more than five feet high; most of the adults would
have to bend to enter.

Scott, King, and Cloud decided that they would enter the space.  They armed
themselves with their tools, rings, and more pistols and entered, the rest
of the household clustering fearfully behind.  They had entered a
passageway that angled sharply downward, lined with stone, and arched
overhead.  Rather quickly the passageway evened out flat, and then doubled
back to the left and after that seemed to run straight.  The men discussed
the matter.  They decided they were heading in the direction of the Rue
Dauphine, and must be directly underneath the side street, some feet above
them.  They crouched very quietly but could hear no sound from above.  The
sound they had heard before was now clearly revealed as a wind, a draft,
moving through the tunnel, but from where and to where they did not know.

They pressed ahead, going back parallel to the left wing of their house
above, until they reckoned they had about reached where Rue Dauphine ran
overhead.  And sure enough, here the tunnel split, with one passage going
away to the right and one to the left.  They could not see the end of
either.  The air was wet , the floor slippery, but there was no foul odor.
They turned left, to be going underneath the Rue.  They did not have far to
go before they found another passageway branching off to the right.  They
estimated that they were about in front of their door, and that this
passageway must head in the general direction of The Annex, across the
street.  They had not far to go—indeed, no farther than the space it
would take to cross the street and come to the front wall of The Annex
overhead.  Here the passageway ended in another stone wall.

They had not been aware of any kind of cellar or subterranean passages in
The Annex, but they decided they must explore.  Again Cloud moved his hands
over the face of this wall, employing his gifts of discernment, and once
again whispered to chisel in this place and in that.  And after much work,
a large stone did indeed move and could be pulled out from the wall.  The
men eagerly removed this, and then another, and with great effort another
low archway was discovered, with darkness beyond.

They entered and discovered that the passageway ran to the left and right,
but not ahead.  They were learning to "read" the stones in the wall of the
passageway and did not believe anything lay straight ahead; Cloud confirmed
this belief. So moving to the right, they went a little way and found a
rough stone stairway going straight up through a hole in the ceiling of the
passageway.  They were not yet ready to go up this, but continued on.  A
little ways more and the passageway made an abrupt turn to the left.  A
little further down and there was another stone staircase going up through
a hole in the ceiling of the passageway.  They kept going and the
passageway eventually turn left again, with another simple stone staircase
going up from there.  They suddenly realized they were describing a square
in their passage and King, thinking about the distances they had gone,
declared "The passageway goes almost underneath the walls of The Annex.
These staircases will likely going up into the building somehow."  They
agreed with the hypothesis.  A little further on there was another left
turn, another staircase, another left, and before long they found
themselves back at the passageway they had taken from their own house.

By now the men were weary from stooping and from their labor in removing
stones.  They had certainly worked through the lunch hour and beyond.  It
was time to take their information back to their friends and put off
further exploration for another day, which they did.  As they washed
themselves in their comfortable house, everyone gathered around to discuss
these discoveries.  Where else did the passages lead to?  What was their
purpose?  Where did they go in The Annex? No one had ever found anything
like the four stone staircases over there.

It was decided to resume exploration the next day, for evening was coming
on, but Scott did two things.  He asked King to send word of the discovery
to Mama Désirée, in case she might have some information.  And he
sent an order for stout oak wood, mortar, and hardware, for he meant to
install heavy lockable doors across the spaces they had made by knocking
down stones.  He wished he could do this immediately; there must have been
SOME reason why those archways had been sealed up.  But there was no time
for that now.

It was a thoughtful group that shared the evening meal; the wind remained
high, although rain had not yet begun.  Their new discoveries, and what
they might mean, occupied all their thoughts.  After dinner some of them
searched through papers in the library for any evidence of the passages,
but they found nothing helpful.  Eventually it was time to retire, with
resolutions to resume their exploration in the morning.

As they headed off to bed, Moses and Adam stopped Scott briefly to ask if
they could join the crew tomorrow and do their part, to which Scott of
course agreed.  Adam went off on some assignation of his own, but Moses
paused and asked Scott if they might sleep together.  Scott agreed and they
went off hand in hand to Scott's bedroom.

Scott was tired but looking forward to pleasure with the dark, chiseled
body of Moses.  They began slowly, removed each other's clothing with
deliberation, exchanging quick kisses as they did so.  Then they stood
naked before each other and fell into a tight embrace, rampant penises,
purple black and dusky rose, standing straight up together between their
muscled abdomens.  They kissed long and deeply while their hands dug into
each other's backs, kneaded hips and bottoms, squeezed shoulders.

Moses reached a stage of readiness first, and led Scott to the bed, where
he put the white man on his back and pushed his legs up.  Scott grabbed his
legs with his arms, baring his anus to Moses.  The sculpted, dark chocolate
body of the black man got into position, squatting on his haunches just
behind Scott's hips.  He applied some goose grease to two fingers and
inserted them into Scott's anus, then lubricated the anus and in one slow
motion inserted his hard purple black dick.  Scott grunted hard, and when
Moses was fully inserted Scott wrapped his legs around the small of the
black man's strong back, and wrapped his arms around his muscled shoulders,
and drew him down on top of him.

Moses kissed and nibbled Scott's neck, Scott kissed and buried his face in
the black man's crisp hair, as Moses set up an urgent rhythm of pounding.
Scott moved with him, thrusting up as much as he might, to meet the purple
black rod that was pistoning in and out of him.  Pump, pump, pump, and then
Moses began writhing, moaning, seething, his hands spasmodically clutching
at Scott's shoulders as he suddenly clenched his whole body.  Then he
roared and pushed hard into the white man, emptying a torrent of semen
within him.  The two struggled like this for what might have been a whole
minute, one spasm after another carrying Moses away as his body emptied
itself of its seed.  Finished, Moses lay quivering for a moment.

Then Scott pushed him off but positioned him face down again, on the bed,
and now it was the white man's turn to crawl around behind and lubricate
the deep purple black anus with grease, then to place the bulb of his dusky
rose shaft against the anus and push.  Moses cried out as Scott entered,
and then the white man covered the black man's back as he stretched out
atop his whole length.  Scott reached underneath Moses to wrap his arms
around his chiseled chest while he kissed and bit the strong dark brown
shoulders, now shining with sweat and natural oil.  The men locked their
ankles together as Scott set up a rhythm as urgent as the black man's had
been, pounding and pounding.  Neither man was doing this gently; something
in both of them demanded a fierce urgency, a vigorous release.  Soon Scott
began bellowing in Moses' ear, tightening his arms around the man's chest
as he slammed forward, pushing his groin as hard as he could into the dark
chocolate bottom beneath him, shooting his seed into the black man's guts.

He rested like that quivering for a while and then pulled out with a plop.
Now each man, spent and fulfilled, reached for the other tenderly to
stroke, caress, and kiss.  Entwined arms and legs together, they drifted
off into an exhausted sleep.



I'm baaaack!  Comments welcome
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See also my new story, Visit to the Plantation; it might also become a very
short series
lokiaga@austin.rr.com