Date: Mon, 12 Mar 2018 09:01:44 +0100 (CET)
From: marin.giustinian@laposte.net
Subject: Runaway Angels

In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive. For
whomever it would be illegal, immoral or forbidden for any other reason
whatsoever to read a story about love between two consenting young men is
kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A photo album (pdf) concerning
this story is available upon request <marin.giustinian@laposte.net>. This
being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.

The action takes place during the late eighteenth century in North
Carolina, then on the Island of Flores in the Azores.

RUNAWAY ANGELS

by Marin Giustinian

----------

By the summer of 1775, the rebellion against the Crown of England had
spread throughout the British colonies of North America, south of
Canada. The American Revolution was forging a whole new nation, a
democracy, abolishing all royal power.

Lord Josiah Martin was the Royal Governor of the crown colony of North
Carolina, serving His Majesty, King George. His seat of office and official
residence was the Governor's palace in New Bern. His Estate Steward was
Mr. Jasper Seymour.

Mr. Seymour was a short, stout, rather ugly fellow in his late fifties and
was excellent in running the very elegant 'palace' Lord Tryon had built
only a few years before. He was feared by those beneath him and obedient of
those above him. His only weak point was his incorrigible lust for comely
pubescent lads. He was, for this vice, lucky because of colonial law,
anyone with only a fourth of other than white blood could be bought and
sold as domestic propriety, in other words, slaves and with a slave, you
can do whatever you want.

A notorious sodomite planter up the river from New Bern had bought a boy of
the estimated age of seven from the lad's 'foster parents' on Harkers
Island. By the time he turned twelve, the gentleman found the child no
longer pleasing for his taste and therefore put him up for sale. That's how
Jasper Seymour was able to buy a very beautiful catamite for a single gold
guinea. It was a bit expensive, but the child seemingly was worth it,
having been well broken in by his previous proprietor. The lad went by the
name of Ezra and was a very nice blend of Indian and European blood with a
touch of Moresque, originating from the coastal island of Ocracoke where
frequent pirate stopovers and shipwrecks interbred a rich variety of racial
colours. Seymour had the lad live with him in his personal quarters on the
palace grounds, claiming him to be his 'very personal' servant boy. The
young fellow was bright, polite and sufficiently trained in the ways of
satisfying male lust, giving Mr. Seymour all the thrills he craved.

The job of Estate Steward didn't involve much travel nor activity in which
he needed actual personal assistance, so the young Ezra, during the day,
had ample time and leisure on his own amongst the slave and free staff
members of the palace's household. Thus he became the daytime pet of an
idle, bachelor chaplain who taught him many things, even the prohibited
skill, for a slave, to read and write. This was of no bother to Seymour who
considered any form of instruction as an asset to his 'investment' and any
erotic novelty the boy could learn became an enjoyment for himself.

When the revolutionaries threatened to occupy the palace, Governor Martin
immediately fled, and in his wake, thus did Jasper Seymour. He gathered his
better belongings in a trunk, all the available money he could cram into
his satchels and securing his credentials, he booked passage for him and
his slave on an Irish merchant ship hauling a cargo of tar and turpentine
out of the port of Beaufort for the busy shipyards of Dublin.

Ezra was now supposedly almost sixteen and had become a very handsome, racy
young man. His skin was suave as a peach. As most Indian males, only a
slight trace of facial hair shadowed his upper lip and other than a bouquet
of soft pubic curls adorning his well proportioned sex, no body hair
whatsoever was to be found elsewhere. His lips were full, tempting as
strawberries and his eyes, the colour of golden amber. Nimble as a playful
colt and gay as a springtime morning, he was simply a very delightful
person.

"This boy is way too comely to be put on a ship at sea for weeks on end,
full of lewd brutes," observed the purser as Mr. Seymour and Ezra claimed
their quarters on the ship. And he was right, especially considering the
loathsome conduct of his master.

----------

Ezra was accustomed to the abuse of men, to their squeezes and kisses,
their sucking and panting until spewing their acrid cum. He also knew the
gags of their cocks down his throat, as he wept, gasping for breath. He had
long lost the burn of a being buggered, his little arse having been fucked
countless times ever since he was sold.

However, nearing the age of fourteen, he began enjoying pleasures of his
own, shooting his own semen while being used on the sexual sprees of his
masters. In fact, having never known any other form of affection or
attention, such debauchery had become a sort of disgusting, second nature
to him.

Love? He could say that he had no idea of what that was. Care, tenderness,
compassion, these feelings were to him inexistent. As far as he was
concerned, he was on earth only to be used for the grunting, slobbering
pleasure of the men who owned him as a pet, a toy, a slave -- and that was
it.

This being said, in his head things were beginning to change. When they
fled the palace, Ezra stole several books in the chaplain's library and
they became his favourite companions on the ship. He read about 'freedom',
'love' and those ideas made things stir in his mind as he spent hours of
his idle time, sitting on the deck in the lee of a skiff, watching the sea
as the ship heaved its way to the distant northeast. His nights were spent
sweating under the thrusts of his master or any other way Mr. Seymour
fancied emptying his balls before snoring through the night, but the day
was his own time of thought and contemplation.

Seymour had met and obviously was attracted to a young bosun with whom he
often exchanged a word or two. Several times they came and sat alongside
Erza while they spoke about the weather or mostly about the other men on
board. The bosun would smile and stare at Ezra, never seeking to
dissimulate the effects of his temptation. On other occasions, when off
duty, the bosun would pace up and down, alone on the deck where Ezra was
sitting, smile, give him the good day, with a familiar eagerness gleaming
in his eyes. Ezra recognised that singular expression of lust. Even though
he never felt any appetite for sex himself, he could at least understand
the young bosun who only had his furtive hand to satisfy his craving.

After some weeks under sail they were nearing the Azores. One evening, as
the bosun and Seymour were smoking their pipes, they gossiped together on
deck. After a while, they both returned to the passenger cabin where Ezra
was getting ready to retire. There Mr. Seymour ordered Ezra to suck the
bosun's cock. This went on several more evenings, until the bosun finally
buggered the boy under the eyes of a very vicious Mr. Seymour. Ezra even
had to suck the old lecher's stinking cock as the bosun violently fucked
the boy's arse.

Somehow the word leaked out about the transactions going on between the
bosun and Mr. Seymour. It became a hushed rumour on board that the
passenger was pimping his slave boy.

When the news came to the captain's ears, the pious old man threw a
terrible tantrum! The captain was a very severe Catholic with an Irish
temper and couldn't tolerate the least idea of anything sexual going on
between the me under his command. However, he knew he couldn't punish a
slave who was only complying to what slaves must do, obeying his master and
his master was in fact a rather important personage, probably protected by
high ranking personages in the Kingdom, being the Estate Steward to a Royal
Governor.

He found a satisfactory solution. He gathered everyone on deck. There in
front of all, he pronounced his accusations and following sentences. The
bosun was to be flogged and probably hanged on arrival in
Dublin. Mr. Seymour and his catamite, no longer fit to be aboard a God
fearing, Catholic ship, were to be put in a skiff with their belongings and
sent ashore as they were edging along the upper western coast of the
upcoming Portuguese Island of Flores.

Mr. Seymour was restless all night long, muttering to himself, rummaging
through his belongings, counting his gold, carefully inspecting his papers
and credentials.

This night he didn't bother Ezra. Huddled in a corner of the bed, he tried
to sleep but barely had begun to doze when their cabin was abruptly
unlocked and the door slammed open. Two burly sailors informed them that is
was time to be disembarked.

Dawn had barely broken when they saw, on the starboard side of the ship, a
low piece of land at the foot of the cliffs of the island of Flores, their
imposed destination. Mr. Seymour had taken his heavy money bags out of his
truck and solidly tied them to his belt. His long coat hanging down to his
sturdy boots hid them quite well. The sailors threw Ezra and the trunk in
the skiff as Mr. Seymour clumsily climbed in. They were lowered into the
water as the ship, under only a few sheets of sail, lumbered slowly
along. Once the skiff was afloat and untied, Ezra was ordered to take the
oars and row them safely ashore. Seymour shouted and cursed the captain as
much as he could and then slumped in silence. Minutes later, the ship
picked up speed under more sails, leaving behind in its wake Ezra and his
infamous master to their fate.

After an hour or so, they saw what looked like a rocky beach and attempted
their approach. The wind had increased and a freakish wave lifted and drove
them onto a lava reef just off shore. The skiff was cast up against it. The
frail craft lurched, splintered, broke and capsized, tumbling Ezra, Seymour
and his trunk overboard. The old man yelled, cursed Ezra, floundered a bit
and sunk like an anvil, weighted down by his money bags, boots and
coat. His hat floated as a last reminder of his ludicrous master. Little by
little the trunk sunk as the remains of the skiff floated on the
waves. That was the end -- the end of a world and for Ezra, the beginning of
another.

Being a very accomplished swimmer, he drew himself up on the rocky beach,
having had to abandon his own little sack with his few belongings and
cherished books. Exhausted but alive, he stretched out on a patch of sand,
completely dazed, bewildered and stunned. Alone, yet free and stranded on
an unknown island with only his breeches and a shirt for sole belongings,
he turned over on his side and began to weep. He wept for the joy of still
being alive. He wept his sudden and unfathomed solitude. He wept, realising
his dismay, not knowing what to do other than weep. He couldn't remember
the last times he had wept -- and now all those choked up tears flowed as he
wretched and moaned like an abandoned babe. Finally a tormented sleep
overwhelmed him as he laid there, pale and immobile as a corpse.

a slave. Little did he know that he was no longer alone, nor even a
slave. He was now on Portuguese soil where slavery had been abolished ten
years before. Looking over him stood a tall, handsome shepherd boy living
in a small hut up on the knoll beside a little wood. Quivering beside him
was the shepherd's only companion, a small border collie, anxious for his
master to give him permission to advance.

Having seen the boy crawl ashore, he had taken his precautions before
coming down. He was ready to fight or to rescue, but he knew not which. He
held his staff tight in his hand, creeping a bit closer to take a better
look at the body. He saw that the survivor was breathing, that he was just
a lad and that there was no blood to be seen. The poor boy was just
whimpering slightly as he slept.

The dog eased up and sniffed Ezra's face, who immediately woke up,
panicked, grabbing a stone, jumping to his feet. The collie only rollicked
around as if he wanted to play, wagging his tail and barking. Ezra then saw
Nathaniel, throwing his staff on the ground, holding out his arms in sign
of peace.

Shivering, Ezra crouched, his face in his hands and weeping even more,
exclaimed, "Oh my God! The Angel of death has come to take me!" and falling
on his knees, he pled, "Spare me, my Lord! Spare me! I beg you my Lord,
spare me please!"

The shepherd eased up to Ezra and very gently took the boy by the shoulders
saying, in English, "I'm no angel. I have come to help you. Calm down. Stop
crying. Look at me. I come as a friend. Look!"

Ezra lifted his eyes and fainted in the shepherd's arms. As he was carrying
him up to his hut, the boy came back to his senses and struggled to be
released and stand on his own.

"Here, lean on me, I'm taking you home. I'm taking you home and I'm going
to take care of you! Be nice now. Keep still. Peace, I say. Calm. Keep
calm, please."

----------

Once in the hut, Ezra devoured the fresh fruits the shepherd gave him and
drank gulp after gulp of the sweet spring water in the jug.

"Now, come with me to the stream. I'm going to wash the salt off of you and
out of your clothes. I need to see if you have any injuries," the young
shepherd told him, tenderly caressing his cheek, pushing a lock of hair off
his forehead, "and when you feel better, you will tell me your story. For
now, you must eat, sleep and let me take care of you. I see way too much
suffering in your eyes."

Ezra surrendered completely to his rescuer. He had never been treated with
kindness and care. He was ravished, even spellbound by the loving attention
he was receiving, but didn't know how to cope with it.

"Are you going to sell me? Is that why you want to groom me and fix me up?"

"Sell you? My God, No, absolutely not! I -- I just want to help. There are
no slaves here. Slavery has been abolished on these islands. Everybody here
is free. You are free."

Ezra, astounded, obediently followed the shepherd to the flowing stream
cascading down through the shrubs and flowers.

Having only known the very flat eastern plains of North Carolina, covered
with pine forests, swamps, brown water, alligators, snakes and sand,
there's nothing more there. Here, the landscape was beautiful like a
dream. The mountainous island is lusciously covered with all kinds of
exuberant vegetation, waterfalls, pinacles and lakes. When the shepherd had
stripped both Ezra and himself, they stepped into the water. Ezra balked a
bit, uttering, "Snakes, leeches -- I'm afraid!"

"There's only water in this water. Here on Flores there are no snakes, nor
leeches nor anything else that can harm you -- perhaps a mosquito or two."

Ezra looked at him like he was crazy, then closing his eyes, he let the
youth bathe him from hair to toes. His hands worked magic on Ezra's body,
thrilling and soothing him at the same time. When the shepherd stepped
back, Ezra kneeled facing the fall, bent over and drank deeply of the
crystalline waters. After a moment he looked up at his companion and asked,
"Can I sit in the water?"

"Of course! You can even lie down in it and let the current flow around
you! Do it! You'll see it's fun!"

Stretching out on his back in the bed of the creek, he felt the lukewarm
water run all over him, even making his dick swirl in the surging
stream. He lifted his arms towards the sky, imploring the sun and for the
first time in years, he laughed. He laughed and sobbed at the same time,
weeping not in turmoil but in a new and exhilarating sensation, that of
freedom and happiness. He was happy, because he was discovering something
he couldn't yet name.

Ezra's cock was erect as he rose. It was just as beautiful as the rest. The
shepherd chuckled and said, "I see you're feeling better! Turn around. Let
me take a look-- Everything's all right. No injury nor bruises. I'm
glad. Come."

Ezra stepped out of the waters and walked up to his friend who simply
opened his arms and invited Ezra to hug. Ezra melted against his companion
who wrapped his arms around him gently holding him in a comforting embrace,
rocking him ever so slightly, nuzzling his hair and rubbing his back.

As they slowly separated, they were both smiling in each other's
eyes. Nathaniel then spoke saying, "Let's wash these too!" as he stooped to
pick up Ezra's filthy, salty breeches and shirt as well as his own meagre
clothing.

Ezra took both of the breeches and Nathaniel, the shirts, and they scrubbed
and laughed, splashing each other abundantly, glistening naked in the late
morning light.

As they were laying their wash over the bushes to dry, the shepherd kept on
talking, hoping his words would help his ward to open up.

"My name is Nathaniel Burns. I'm from Scotland, Aberdeen to be exact. And
you?"

"My name's Ezra. That's all I know. I'm a slave -- from the colony of North
Carolina."

Nathaniel went on, "Fate had it that I was nearly a slave myself. I was
enrolled as a cabin boy when I was twelve, then bartered off to a so called
privateer in Jamaica. More of a pirate to tell the truth. I was bullied and
buggered by all the filthy blokes on board. I was sick of all the cum, scum
and piss I had to swallow, of all the cocks that were being rammed up my
bottom, making me bleed, ripping me apart."

"I've had my share of all that too," whispered Ezra, suddenly sullen.

"But now that's all over for us both! Cheer up! We've both escaped that
fate forever!"

Ezra looked up, his eyes questionning Nathaniel's.

"After three years of that, two years ago, on the way back to England, I
skipped ship, deserted as you could say, as we were at anchor here on
Flores. Nearly got shot as I swam ashore and hid. I sneaked around as long
as I could, hiding until the ship left. Then when I was free to come out, I
was taken in by a wonderful old shepherd and his wife. They had no children
to help them, so they sort of adopted me. They are really nice. I learned
Portuguese and I helped them herding the sheep and spinning the wool. My
grandma had taught me how to spin and knit back home. Last year, my
protector said I was now a man, so he set me up in this little hut you see
there, with some sheep to keep down on this piece of land where you washed
up. I feel better off down here away from the village, on my own. I don't
want to get mixed up with the villagers... especially with the lassies who
fancy me a bit too much. I get lonely sometimes, but it's better for me
here, I'm sure."

"Why don't you go back to Scotland?"

"And get hanged? I'm a deserter. I can't go back. I can't!" replied
Nathaniel with emotion.

"I see."

They went back to the hut and Nathaniel got some clothes out for himself
and some, a bit too big, for Ezra. Sitting down together on the knoll just
outside, overlooking the sea, they continued getting to know each other.

"That's enough about me," said Nathaniel, "tell me some about yourself. How
did you get stranded? You couldn't have swum all the way from the ship I
saw at sunrise this morning. When I came back down from tending my flock, I
saw you there like dead."

Ezra edged up to Nathaniel and speaking in a very low voice, told his
story. It lasted a real long time. Nathaniel listened, never interrupting,
impressed by what his new friend was telling him. He had problems
understanding the colonial war against the Crown. He never thought that
slavery was so inhuman and that the finer gentry could be so cruel. Ezra
felt relieved to be able to talk about himself for the first time and to
have someone sincerely listening to him. When he finally got around to the
wreck of the skiff, he finished by saying, "As the old man fell and started
to sink, he yelled at me screaming and cursing me, saying that I had
wrecked the skiff on purpose to kill him and he sent me to hell and then he
went under -- I'm not a murderer, Nathaniel! I swear I didn't kill him. He
just fell! The waves dashed us on the reef. I'm still afraid his ghost will
come back to claim me!"

"Don't fret my young friend! I'm here. I'll protect you," replied
Nathaniel, putting his arm around Ezra's shoulder.

"Hold me again, please. I've never been held like that. It's good! I feel
at peace in your arms."

"Here, come over here. Sure enough, I'll hold you as much as you need. I
like holding you too -- because you hold me back. Ha!"

They snuggled up real tight, burying their lips in the neck of each other
and then softly their lips met. The sun was slipping behind the cliff
casting a serene shadow over the boys, both staring at the glimmer dancing
on the sea.

After a long, warm moment, Nathaniel rose, "Could you go in the hut and
blow some on the coals to kindle a blaze. We'll heat some stew for
tonight. I'm going to tend the sheep." And with his dog, off he went. As
the sun was setting, the two fugitive angels dined on a substantial lamb
stew with vegetables and brown bread, then undressed and cuddled up in bed.

"I feel so safe with you, Nathaniel. Good night... and thank you -- thank you
a lot!"

"Good night, dear Ezra. Rest up!"

----------

That night both Ezra and Nathaniel felt something they had never
experienced before. The simple warmth of love and trust.

Ezra had never been given the opportunity to know if he could be attracted
to girls or even other boys. The only intimacy he had known as a growing
lad was with his masters and the chaplain, if one could call their carnal
lubricity intimacy, nothing near to caring love.

Nathaniel, on his side, had been so abused in the stench, filth and
violence aboard as a cabin boy, that once he was free, he was terrified by
anything concerning sex. He kept his distance with everyone, trusting only
his protectors. However, during the past year of living alone in his hut,
his soul had begun to heal. He found pleasure and relief, feeling
lightheaded and giddy, alone in the thralls of nature. He found deep
consolation in the scent of the flowers, in the caress of the swirling
water around his body as he relaxed, laying in the stream, his cock
fluctuating, lazily swelling in the current, then in his hand. He thus
sometimes spilt his semen, letting it out to sea in an act of communion
with nature. Just as it stirs all living things, nature's energy prompts
even more the body of a healthy young male. Nonetheless, he was beginning
to yearn for more company than that of his dog. He missed smiles and simple
conversation. He often sang aloud all the English songs and hymns he knew,
just to feel the vibration of his mother tongue moving his lips, filling
his mouth and throat. But what he yearned for the most was to light the
flame of selfness that only love can spark. Only then, could he imagine
being totally alive, pure and no longer afraid.

Female temptation was something he never felt, no matter how fair or
winsome the lass could be. It even seemed to bother him as he told
Ezra. For neither of them, having been subject to such cruel abuse did it
even cross their minds that sex could be emotionally uplifting, delicate
and loving, kindling rapture, ecstasy and above all, love with
another. Finally, during this first night of grace, the mysterious peace of
selfness began glow. Their souls uniting began to quench their unknown
thirst of surrender.

The rising sun shed its glow on the two entangled angels sleeping near the
tiny window, enveloping them in an aura of happiness, tenderness and
warmth.

Ezra heard a whisper in his ear, "Good morning, my young friend. Bless
you."

He shifted some in his shepherd's arms, smiling as he opened his sleepy
eyes. "Good morning and bless you too," he whispered, stretching to kiss
Nathaniel's smile, their hard morning cocks pressing one against the other,
throbbing ever so slightly.

They laughed as they playfully wallowed in the pile of wool-stuffed
cushions that served as a bed, struggling each to be the first to get
up. Once in the sun, they both stretched and sighed their relief as they
peed.

"It's hard to piss when it's as hard as this!" exclaimed Nathaniel, shaking
his very elegant, stiff cock.

"I'm rarely this hard myself! It's fun!" shouted Ezra as he broke away
running, cock bobbing, towards the stream with Nathaniel, close behind on
his heels.

Once in the water, they stooped, splashing each other, scrubbing and
rubbing and suddenly hugging, proudly gleaming, being alive together. As
their calm came back, they finished up by washing each other's hair, their
faces, their pits, pulling back their foreskins, cleansing their cocks and
cracks. They put on their freshly dried clothes and walking back to the
hut, Ezra asked, "Can we go back to where the skiff wrecked yesterday. I
want to see if anything -- or anybody has washed ashore?"

"Of course. Then afterwards, we must go up to the village. I have to
introduce you to my protectors and see what they advise us to do for you to
be safe and happy here -- with me, if so be your desire."

"I can't leave you! But, are you sure I must show myself now? I'm afraid to
be hanged for murdering my master or flogged as a runaway. I'm too scared!"

"Don't worry, dearest Ezra. Nothing bad can ever happen to you now! I
swear!"

"You swear so?"

"I said I SWEAR it! Don't worry. Believe me! Come on I'm hungry!"

----------

After some cheese and fruits and checking on the sheep, Nathaniel filled
his back-pack basket with the skeins of wool he had spun over the last days
to take them up to be woven by his protector's wife.

Together, with the dog, they walked back down to the shore. The only trace
that could be found of the wreck were the two oars and some of the planking
of the skiff that had washed up on the tide and strewn amongst the
stones. Ezra looked relieved.

"Once his corpse has bloated, Mr. Seymour will wash up too... don't you think
so, Nathaniel?"

"No, Ezra. the crabs here are voracious. By now they've probably finished
with his flesh and are working on the cloth of his garments. Maybe one day,
after a big storm, there'll be a scull or a bone or a tooth or two up
here. That's all."

"Maybe the things in the trunk too. I don't even know what he had in them."

"Time will tell, Ezra. Don't fret. That's all over now. We have to take
care of the future. You have no place to go but here with me. I feel so
much tenderness for you! Let's plan to stay together like I said. I'm sure
my protectors can help us."

"If you say so, Nathaniel. I trust you. Let's go up and face..."

"Face what?"

"I don't know. Just hold me once more."

"Once more? I'll never stop wanting to hold you! Just promise you'll never
leave."

"What's a promise?"

"It's like if you say you'll never leave me, then you never go away."

"My heart has already promised."

"Happy! You make me happy, Ezra! Here take an oar. I'll carry the other."

Nathaniel's feet were used to being bare and he strode the path quite
swiftly without a problem. Ezra was used to shoes and soft sand under his
feet. Barefoot on the ground, he had to go easy.

"I'm sorry, Nathaniel, but my feet hurt a little."

"You'll get used to it! Over here, only the priest and the officer have
shoes. For the rest of us we're always barefoot. It never gets cold enough
here to worry about our feet and there's nothing that stings nor
bites. We'll just take our time. No haste necessary."

"What are we going to tell the people? Your protectors for instance?"

"The truth, Ezra. The whole wretched, ugly truth! You are so beautiful that
whatever you say, people will love and trust you! Believe me."

"So that's why they love and trust you then, like I do."

"What?"

"Your beauty, Nathaniel."

"Am I really that comely? I haven't seen a mirror for years."

"Then let me be your mirror and you trust me too. You are the most
beautiful person in the world for me."

Nathaniel stopped walking, turned, cast his oar on the ground and held out
his arms to Ezra who immediately threw his oar down too and melted in his
friend's embrace. Instinctively they began kissing, grinding their cocks
together and weeping as if something very dark had flown away, fleeing and
freeing their souls, leaving only the light of a newborn love glowing in
their tears.

"My heart is going to jump out of my throat! Do you feel how it's pounding
in my breast?"

"Mine's pounding the same, Ezra! Don't you feel how I tremble?"

As their life's energy mingled, they experienced for the first time the
thrilling miracle of simply sharing the thrill of being alive.

----------

Lighthearted and confidant, they strode up to the house of Leonel and
Goretti Silveira, Nathaniel's protectors. They propped the oars against the
wall and Nathaniel took the load off his back and put it on the
ground. Senhora Goretti showed up on the threshold and joyfully hugged her
boy. Then she looked at Ezra from head to foot and questioned Nathaniel as
to who this handsome, young stranger could be. As he spoke, she had them
come in and sit. Still listening, she put bread and honey on the table and
poured some milk in two bowls and placed them in front of the young
men. Nathaniel finished his explanations. There was a moment of silence and
then Senhora Goretti raised her arms shouting, "Divino Espirito Santo! um
outro anjo do mar paracido contigo!"

Ezra glanced at Nathaniel with a glint of fear in his eyes.

"She just said, 'Holy Ghost! Another angel from the sea who looks like
you!' You see, nothing to fear," said Nathaniel, putting his hand on
Ezra's.

Senhora Goretti came over to Ezra and held him tight against her generous
breasts, rocking and repeating over and over, 'pobrezinho, pobrezinho!',
poor boy, poor boy.

In between time, Leonel came in. The boys respectfully stood and Goretti
shuffled over to him, overflowing with Ezra's story. A bit overtaken by
this sudden break of news, Leonel hugged Nathaniel, then held out his hand
to Ezra. Instead of taking it, Ezra bowed and fell on his knees, much to
the surprise of all.

"Please stand, Ezra. Mister Leonel asks you to stand up," insisted
Nathaniel.

He slowly stood and the old man hugged him as he would a son.

Once things had calmed down, they all sat around the table. Ezra sipped on
his milk, relishing the bread and honey as Nathaniel explained everything
about him being there. They talked on and on and then came up to the
following conclusion. "The best thing we must do, according to my
protectors, is to present you to the assembly of the members of the
'Imperio do Espirito Santo', the brotherhood of the Holy Ghost, their
religion here. Senhor Leonel is a deacon in the brotherhood. The whole
village attends."

Ezra looked very puzzled about what Nathaniel was saying.

"Yes, I know all of that is strange, too new for you to readily
understand. I'll tell you all about it later. What's important is that the
next gathering of the village happens to be in two days. We shall all
attend. You will give the assembly the oars of your wreck as a proof of
your situation and a gift to the community. The others may ask you some
questions and after that, you become a member of the village. You will be
seen in eyes of all as the companion that the Holy Ghost has sent me, a
young brother of tongue. If the officials from the parish or the government
ask any questions, Senhor Leonel will vouch for you. Now all we must do is
find you a name."

Ezra looked back and forth at the three others waiting for his answer. "I
want to be named as a new man... named, Ezra Newman. Will that do?"

"Welcome to your new land, Ezra Newman!"

With tears on the brink of his eyes, Ezra rose and very elegantly stepped
up to Senhora Goretti, took her hand, bowed and kissed it, then turning to
Senhor Leonel, he did the same. Both of them sheepishly grinned as he and
Nathaniel hugged, and then laughed breaking into a little jig, jumping
aroung as the old couple clapped in rhythm their dance of joy.

Senhora took a lenghth of twine and took Ezra's measures in order to sew
him an extra shirt and a pair of trousers. She then loaded Nathaniel's pack
basket with food and even a little bottle of liquor for them to celebrate
together, once back by their own fire. They both bade the Silveira's
good-bye and took the path back down, their dog rushing back and forth,
chasing butterflies. Their hearts soared like the dove on wing over their
heads.

----------

Ezra went with Nathaniel to tend the sheep. He had never been exposed to
them before and found it fun to grab, pet and chase them around as the dog
ran after him, barking and nipping at his heels.

"Don't excite them, Ezra. If you do that, they're going to be afraid of
you. And the poor dog, he doesn't know how to handle you and them at the
same time."

"I'm sorry! I feel so much like having fun!"

"Do you then? Well, how about this!" jested Nathaniel as he leapt on Ezra,
tackling him to the ground in the soft mossy grass on the knoll. They
tossed and tickled each other, scrambling and laughing until Nathaniel
pinned Ezra, struggling on his back. He held his arms, splayed to the
ground, moved in and kissed his rowdy companion, stifling his laugher until
it became only deep, sensual sighs.

All of a sudden, Ezra relaxed, kissing Nathaniel back, prodding his mouth
with his eager tongue, wrapping his legs around his companion's
thighs. They rolled and managed to sit, facing one another, quiet,
attentive, slightly panting, looking deep into the eyes of each other.

"Do we?" asked Nathaniel with a touch of urgency in the voice.

"Do we what?" replied Ezra, amused.

"Do we dare spill our seed together?"

"Only if we drink it, Nathaniel. I thirst for you! I never knew that..." he
suddenly became silent.

"That what?"

"That what used to be so sordid could -- with you -- become, become
something... Holy."

Nathaniel reached over and caressed Ezra's cheek, his lips, his chest down
to his very erect cock. They jumped up and fumbling with the drawstrings of
their blousing breeches, pulled them off. Then fast as a heartbeat, they
both stripped their shirts and fell back nude on the turf. They coiled and
grabbed each other's cock, sucking, swallowing them with compelling need,
bucking, writhing, carried away in a totally unsuspected rage of
ecstasy. They groaned. They whimpered between the assaults of their
welcoming throats. Both were irremediably lost in the upheaval of
orgasm. Their legs stretched out and stiffened, their toes curled, they
desperately held each other's trembling arse as the gushing flow of semen
shot on and on, both together, deep into each other. They swallowed,
gasping between the strident shrills of their moans. Once released,
collapsing on their backs, spent, trying to catch their breath, tears of
joy streamed from their eyes, gleaming in the afternoon sun.

This was not sex, nor even simple lust. It was love in eruption. For the
very first time, they experienced love, merged in love, made love in love,
for love's sake. Theirs was a potent, explosive love, pure as the flowing
waters of the nearby steam, merging freely with the sea. Their souls melted
into an alloy, henceforth indivisible like the gold and silver of electrum.

They felt no need to talk about what had happened between them. They knew
exactly what the other was feeling. Their connexion was more than simple
affection. Time was abolished. Nowness prevailed.

As they strolled back to the hut, hand in hand, they felt such harmony that
they had forgotten to pick up their clothes. The dog came running up and
stopped in front of them as they broke out laughing. Dragging from his
snout was Nathaniel's shirt. "I'll fetch the rest!" giggled Ezra as he ran
back up the hill.

"And I'll gather some wood for the fire! I'm starving!" shouted back
Nathaniel.

----------

After eating, they decided to keep the liquor bottle to celebrate after the
assembly meeting at the 'Imperio do Espirito Santo' and they settled down
in front of the fire.

"Ezra, do you know anything about carding wool and spinning with a drop
spindle?"

"None whatsoever... I'm sorry, but I'm willing to learn if you'll have the
patience to teach me. I want to do my share of the work!"

Slowly, Nathaniel showed Ezra how you rub the cards together to fleece the
wool and take out the burrs, brambles, twigs and grass. Ezra tried. The
result needed working on.

Nathaniel then took the fleece, twisted a bit, hooked it to the spindle and
spun it like a toy top, feeding the wool from his other hand into the yarn
it was spinning.

"Now you try."

That required more skill and practice than the carding. Ezra smiled
sheepishly saying, "I'll work on that too! Please be patient with me..."

So with Ezra carding the wool, making nice fluffy fleece with Nathaniel
spinning, the night fell. The dwindling fire cast just enough light for
Nathaniel to make a skein around Ezra wrists.

"Let's sleep now. I've never been so happy and tired at the same time,"
said Nathaniel, yawning.

"Me too! Come let me help you undress."

They cuddled under the cover as the last flames flickered. After such an
eventful day, they both nearly fell asleep as they entwined their legs,
pressing their cocks together, enjoying a calm, loving kiss.

----------

Ezra and Nathaniel washed and shaved and went into the village to attend
the assembly meeting. They first arrived at the Silveira's house and all
together, carrying the oars, they walked to the join the others at the
'Imperio do Santo Espirito'. Ezra was looked at from head to toe by
everyone present. It was obvious that they all wondered where did this
handsome youth come from and how did he get to the village, Faja Grande,
unnoticed.

Nathaniel sat close to Ezra on the bench. When the ritual words of greeting
were said, the head deacon asked Leonel to speak. He stood and began to
tell who the stranger was and how he was rescued by Nathaniel. He then
requested Nathaniel to continue. As he was busy translating, he was
slightly startled by the request, hesitated an instant and then said that
it was best for Ezra to tell his story and that he would translate.

Ezra complied, stood and began, "I was born in America. My mother was of
mixed blood, her mother was a Coree, the name of her Indian tribe and her
father, my grandfather, was a Moor who had survived a shipwreck on my
native island. When she was barely nubile, she was raped by an Englishman
passing through and died giving me birth. I was fostered by a family who
sold me as a slave to a planter on the mainland while I was at the age of
losing my baby teeth."

He went on as Nathaniel translated, speaking in a very sober, factual
voice. He pursued, relating his first master, then Mister Seymour, the
revolution and the ship to Ireland. He finished by telling how and why he
and his master were put off the ship and the wreck that followed, wherein
his proprietor drowned, he pointed at the oars they had laid on the floor
and said, "The sea washed these up along with me. I'm now here and the oars
are yours. I wish to be free with you as a lifetime companion of
Nathaniel."

He exchanged a silent smile with Nathaniel as he concluded, almost
whispering, the translation. The assembly remained silent, struck by the
emotion. The head deacon quietly rose and beckoned Ezra to step forward,
holding wide open his arms. As Ezra slowly walked up to the smiling old
man, the assembly applauded. He hugged the young man and beckoned Nathaniel
to join them. When he joined Ezra, the assembly cried out 'Louvado seja
Deus quem nos deu esses novos' , Praise be the Lord who gave us these
youths!

As the small crowd of islanders congratulated Ezra, welcoming him, patting
him on the back, Nathaniel told him that some were saying that they had
extra clothes for him, others were saying that if they needed something to
not hesitate asking.

As the assembly continued discussing their current affairs, the two boys
went outside, relieved, happy and sat in silence, looking the full moon
rising. Later on, Leonel told them that he had talked with the other
deacons and they had decided to tell the authorities that the boy had
fallen overboard and was able to swim to shore, never mentioning him as a
former slave, nor the drowning of his master.

Leonel and Goretti kept them over for the evening meal. The moon lit their
way as they walked back home, loaded again with clothes, salt, sugar,
fruits and even a piece of goat meat.

"Now our life begins, Ezra!" exclaimed Nathaniel as they opened the door to
their home.

"Yes, I'm now Ezra New-man! Kiss me now! I can't wait any longer! Let's go
back up on the knoll. I need you so much. I can't contain my joy any
longer. The moon is smiling on us, Nathaniel, and the night is so warm..."

As their bodies and souls melted into one under a shower of shooting stars,
little did they imagine that another miracle was in the waiting.

----------

Their days went along with work and their nights with seemingly unlimited
bliss. They had stocked wood, make improvements on the hut, turning it into
a rather decent home. Each time they were in the village, they were greeted
with respect and affection.

Little by little, Ezra took on to many new things : carding and spinning,
even knitting. Also, Nathaniel was teaching him Portuguese in exchange of
Ezra's lessons in reading and writing. Ezra was quickly maturing into a
healthy, handsome young Azorian along with his companion, his 'amigo de
amor,' as committed 'love friends' are referred to on the island.

A few weeks before Christmas, a strong winter gale roared in from the
West. As night was falling, the wind howled, bashing sheets of rain against
the house. Ezra had lived through hurricanes before and Nathaniel, through
many gales himself, but this one seemed to be particularly potent. The
sheep were well parked behind the stone walls surrounding their pen keeping
them normally out of danger, sheltered from the wind, but the dog was
uneasy as the bleating of the poor animals filtered through the deafening
gusts. No fire in the chimney was possible. They decided to try to sleep,
if possible, and pray that the roof remained over their heads. As the night
crawled on, the swollen waterfalls flooded the stream beds. The nearby
creek sounded like a thunderous cataract. Every now and then the grumble of
rolling boulders and landslides, tumbling down the rocky cliffs of the
island, could be heard in the distance. They waited it out, huddling
together, nearly buried under the fur and wool covers.

As dawn broke, peace seemed to reign at last. Only the crashing waves broke
the silence of the morning calm. The dog was soundly sleeping at the foot
of the bed as the boys emerged, a bit dazed from such an uneasy night.

Outside, the sight was unbelievably beautiful. At daybreak, hundreds of
trembling rainbows danced in the waterfalls, splashing their colours down
the cliffs in the rising sun. The heaving waves majestically sprawled their
foam on the rocky beach. Birds sang, greeting the return of peace.

"Let's hope there's no injuries among the sheep," exclaimed Ezra, concerned
more than ever for them. They both strode over to the enclosure. All was
fine. They pulled away the beams baring the entrance and the sheep rushed
out into open space.

Of course there was some havoc here and there. Their bathing stream was the
most heavily ravaged. The bordering vegetation was ripped away and the
water was still brownish red, overflowing the banks.

"In a day or two, the water will be clear again, and the plants will soon
grow back... and look at all the dead wood. We'll be able to keep a fire as
long as we want! I feel we're quite lucky!" declared Nathaniel.

"Yes, we are. Let's go back down on the beach to see what's washed up. You
never know..."

"If that frees your mind, dear Ezra, let's go. Maybe we'll find some fish
stranded in the tidal pools!"

They were impressed by the quantity of driftwood scattered on the rocks but
nothing more had changed. No trace of bones nor boots or anything revealing
the late Mister Seymour. As they were checking the puddles looking for
fish, Ezra stopped, stooped and screamed, picking up handful of golden
coins.

"Nathaniel! Come! Fast! Look! Look at that!"

Ezra fell back on his knees, digging in the pebbles and rough sand, pulling
up pieces of eight, guineas and a few reals of gold. Nathaniel, dumbfounded
at first, then almost hysterical, dug and laughed as he also pulled up
fistfuls of gold. Then they finally uncovered the gutted sack in which the
treasure had been rolled ashore by the waves, gleaming in Ezra and
Nathaniel's hands.

"You are rich, Ezra! Rich as a prince!"

"You mean WE are rich, Nathaniel! This gold has been given to us and us
alone. The gods of the sea are mighty and by this gift of gold, they prove
their love for us! Come, let's gather the coins and count. Do you have any
idea of their worth?"

"More or less, Ezra. I know that a lot can be bought in the United Kingdom
with just one of these coins. I also know that it's worth even more here or
in the American colonies. I'm dizzy with what we've found! Dizzy and
bewildered!"

Sitting at the little table in their home, they separated the coins by
their origins. There were the doubloons of Spain, reals from Portugal and
guineas from England. Each denomination was more or less of equal
size. When they had finished counting them over and over, they began to
realise the size of the fortune they had in front of them and it was simply
beyond their understanding. However; what they did understand was that they
must be terribly careful.

That very afternoon, they took a coin of each denomination and went back up
to the Silveira's. Both he and she were at home. After talking about the
gale, they sat and put the coins on the table, explaining that these and
many more like them had washed up during the night.

"Fortuna do mar!" exclaimed Goretti as she and Leonel excitedly explained
that they were now the owners of the treasure.

"Fortune of the sea, and by law we are sole owners..." translated Nathaniel.

It was made clear that they should keep it all hidden and not spend it
locally. Doing so could raise useless and dangerous suspicion. They should
book passage on a ship and leave the island anywhere else to then come back
as if they had struck fortune in some faraway place. Then they could spend
it on the island without raising jealousy nor fearing threats from anyone.

"Leonel has an answer for everything!" Ezra claimed as they went back home,
"we must connive a plan. Let's start by making a chest for the gold and
stash it in a safe place. Above all, we should not change our ways of
living!"

"That's why I love you even more, Ezra!"

 "Come! Let's open the bottle of liquor that was given to us months ago. We
must celebrate!"

"You're right! We'll do our conniving tomorrow!"

----------

After eating, they put a pile of wood on the fire and settled down with the
bottle and two cups. They giggled like school boys getting into
mischief. As they were getting tipsy, lust began gleaming in their
eyes. They had made love in all the imaginable ways possible -- and then
some, but this time, something more was happening in them : the promise of
a life without hardship, without injustice nor hurt. They were suddenly
aware that they were the strongest and that they had the power to live as
they choose. That awareness made them even more humble in love for each
other. Their love was a thanksgiving, a grace bestowed on them.

Nathaniel slowly stood and discarded his garments in front of the fire. His
hair gleamed and the glow of his skin embellished the svelteness of his
perfect body. Ezra rose and denuded himself likewise. He eased up to
Nathaniel. They began covering each other with kisses. They tumbled on the
bed and continued until Ezra, freed himself from the blissful turmoil they
were engaging in and grabbed the cruet of olive oil. Falling back on
Nathaniel, they sucked cock almost to explosion. Ezra flipped Nathaniel on
his back and sat on his thighs anointing his cock with the precious oil. He
eased himself down on it, leaning over, smothering his love with kisses,
humming and kneading his chest, his heart, his soul.

They barely moved. The muscles of Ezra arse massaged Nathaniel's pulsing
cock. All of their merging energy was boiling inside. No need was felt to
be rampant nor rambunctious. They simply let love happen without stress nor
empressement, never pursuing ecstasy but just letting it blossom in love on
its own. Then trembling, transpiring, panting, they both screamed, clenched
in a simultaneous orgasm holding each other for dear life.

Once their heart beats slackened, but not their erections, they began the
same ritual, this time Nathaniel receiving Ezra deep inside. Seemingly no
fatigue nor faintness hindered them. As if roused by the mystical forces of
the previous night's tempest and the gods goodwill, they loved and
slumbered and loved again till dawn broke into another glorious day.

----------

A host of angels must have been watching over them. All their plans went
along as if by magic. Once the whalers from New England were back hunting
off the island, bringing with them news of the birth of a new nation called
the independent State of Massachusetts, Ezra and Nathaniel booked passage
to Boston.

With their fortune, they commissioned the construction of a yankee pinky
schooner from a shipbuilder in nearby New Bedford. After the launching and
trials, they equipped the boat to return to the Azores and hired two young
'brothers in love' from the island of Corvo to join them and make up a crew
of four. All together, they sailed with the late autumn winds back to their
island homes. There was just enough gold left in their little lockbox to
keep them, their two crew members and the boat in shape until their
business venture began.

They created a mail service, carrying letters, packets and an occasional
passenger or two, connecting Flores and Corvo to the port towns of the
central group of islands. They sailed regularly to Horta on the island of
Faial and to Angra on the island of Terceira, thus alleviating the weight
of remoteness for the population of the islands further west, increasing
prosperity, culture and opportunity for many.

As it's said, the pendulum swings in both directions. All of the lewd lust,
hurt and disgrace that made Ezra's childhood and Nathaniel's youth a living
hell, pushed the pendulum so far back that when the swing reversed, it was
so unbelievably powerful that the rope broke, freeing their souls and
hearts forever, in unlimited love, peace and goodwill for all.

----------

A photo album (pdf) concerning this story is available upon request
<marin.giustinian@laposte.net>.