Date: Sun, 23 May 2004 17:03:04 -0700 (PDT) From: Lance Kyle Subject: Seaward Plantation chapter three This story contains graphic but completely fictional depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage boys. If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away. Seaward Plantation Chapter three Mark Appleby slowly awoke to sounds carried through his open window: the washing of the sea as waves came ashore, the crying of sea birds, bits and pieces of shouts and conversations from the slaves of Seaward Plantation as they went about their work downstairs and outside. Utterly refreshed, he let his mind float back to the passionate sex of the night before with his two slave boys, Pan and Bacchus. Remembered details of each touch, each passionate thrust, brought a smile to his lips. Opening his eyes with a start and looking to left and right, he realized that he was alone in bed; the boys had left some time during the night or morning. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sat up, his back momentarily sticking to the sheet. He smiled when he remembered the cause of that: Bacchus's semen had pretty well coated his back and then Appleby had rolled over onto it. What time was it now? Fumbling for his pocket watch beside the bed, he saw it was ten o'clock in the morning already. Stretching his muscles, still tired from travel, and moving slowly, he stood up. Looking beneath the bed he found a chamber pot, which he used. On a dresser he also found a pitcher of water, a large bowl, towels and a bar of soap. He silently blessed the boys who had evidently brought that here in the early morning. With these he cleaned himself pretty well from the night before, scrubbing off crusts of dried semen and any other soil. Inspecting the wardrobe and dresser drawers, he saw that his clothes still had not been returned from washing. Worse, even the ancient dressing gown he had worn briefly the night before seemed to have disappeared, perhaps also gone to the wash. Trapped! Appleby said to himself with a smile. He walked to the open window, drawing the lace curtain across it to hide his nakedness. A brilliant blue sky flecked with sailing clouds covered the sea, visible beyond the lawn surrounding the house and the woods beyond that. He knew from the records left to him by Horatio Smith that the island was about sixty acres, not huge but large enough to sustain some vegetable crops and livestock and to provide some variety in terrain. Down below just beyond the roof of the verandah, his attention was suddenly riveted by the sight of his two thirteen year old slave boys, Pan and Bacchus, each with a large bundle in his arms. They were on their way into the house from one of the smaller stone outbuildings. Memories of last night's passionate sex flooded Appleby's memory, and he smiled to himself, while an involuntary stiffness sprang to life in his groin. Then he noticed that the boys had stopped to talk to Hector, the fourteen year old boy who had fetched him from Charleston harbor the day before with his older brother, Troy. Heads leaning close, the three boys, two caramel colored and one a deep chocolate brown, seemed whispering with animation. Then Pan and Bacchus broke away and headed toward the house, out of sight under the roofline of the verandah. Hector swung his head to look directly at his window, a look of wonder, disbelief, and amusement on his face. Suddenly aware of what might well have been their topic of conversation, Appleby quickly ducked out of sight behind the curtain. Hector nodded his head as if to himself, flashed another of his brilliant smiles, and walked off thoughtfully. Appleby heard the kind of crashing on the stairs that only two thirteen year old boys in a hurry could make, then a sudden quiet and the slow opening of the door. As the door fell back, both boys were revealed standing cautiously in the doorway, quickly surveying the scene. A wave of sudden shyness and reserve came over their faces, unsure of their reception after last night's passionate excesses. They slipped quickly into the room, closing the door behind them. "We came with your clothes, Master Mark, sir," said Bacchus, his head bowed and waiting. "Mama Cass says the heavier clothes will be dry later, we'll bring them up then," said Pan, likewise quiet, waiting, with a carefully neutral look on his bowed face. Both boys avoided looking directly at their naked white master, whose penis was by now half erect. "Thank you, boys. Would you please set the clothes down over there," Appleby said, indicating the dresser and a sofa. The boys did as they were told, then stood waiting. "Come here," he said. Clouds of worry crossed their sunny faces as the two boys approached their master, stopping two feet away. Appleby looked down at first one and then another, sensing their uncertainty and confusion. The boys held their heads bowed down, but were now gazing at their master's penis, which was slowly rising--they exchanged quick sidelong glances with one another. Appleby hooked the index finger of each hand under each boy's chin and drew them gently closer. "Thank you," he said, lifting Bacchus's chin and kissing his full lips, "for last night," he continued, lifting Pan's chin and kissing him likewise. Both boys loudly exhaled, broke into sly grins, and rushed their master, holding his chest and belly tight. Appleby gathered both slave boys to him with his arms, embracing them in return, sliding his hands under their rough shirts to massage their smooth, muscular backs. Their hugs grew tighter. His hand slid down to their waistbands, secured by a length of thin rope, meeting resistance. Both boys stepped back quickly and writhed out of their clothes. Shirts came off with a flailing of arms, slim brown fingers fumbled at waists while smiles grew, then off came pants and thin loincloths. Each boy grabbing one of his master's hand, and Appleby being fully willing, they rushed for the bed. The white man and his two black slave boys tumbled like puppies onto the rumpled sheets. Nobody held any position for long before reaching for another body, grasping another warm skin. If the night before was a storm of driving, machine-like passion and desire, this was a morning of exploration, delight, and joy. Man and boys were exploring each other, he uncovering the secrets of their bodies while they discovered his. Appleby murmured with delight as he first ran his fingers and then mashed his nose, his lips, into the tightly curled peppercorns of their scalp hair--then the looser whorls forming small tufts under their arms, which he licked and kissed as they twisted with pleasure, and the small patches just above their penises. The boys called each other to run their fingers through Appleby's shoulder-length light brown hair, so soft and light, then in turn his underarm hair, the triangle of light hair at the center of his chest, the line of silken strands that ran between well developed abdominal muscles to the cloud of soft hair above his penis, hair which they pulled into their mouths to suck and feel, humming with pleasure. Appleby moistened his fingers with each boy's saliva and then ran them over their lilly-like lips, so full and curving outward, clearly defined lines separating them from the caramel skin. At the same time, each boy in his turn ran a single fingertip over the thin, pink lips of his master, and each boy giggled as the white man caught the finger in his mouth and playfully bit it. Pan and Bacchus ran their palms over their master's pink/tan/white skin, marveling at the flecks of pink and red freckles, sucking on his deep rose nipples, brushing the soft hairs on his arms and lower legs, giggling with the holiday spirit of freedom at doing such a thing to a white man. Their master sucked and kissed their necks, then shoulders, then the broad, thin planes of their chests and raisin nipples, the rippled skin of their bellies, discovering highlights of dark gold and chocolate flecked in the dark caramel, tasting the sweet skin until neither boy had any part he had not tongued. He looked with delight at their lighter, tan colored palms and soles of the feet, tracing the darker colored lines that ran across them. Appleby peeled back the foreskins from the long heads of their cocks, like dark brown tulips on long, slim stems, the unhooded glans a lighter color than the dark purplish skin. Drops of clear precum oozed out as he slowly kneaded each penis, squeezing out drops like pearls. The boys took turns looking closely at the skinned back penis of their master, tracing the blue veins under the skin, loving its dark pink color and the heavy weight of the shaft and the ballsack beneath it. Lying mouth to genitals, man and boys spent long minutes looking, touching, tasting, bending, pumping. Ecstasy came as a surprise to them all. Lying on top of his master, sucking on the white man's balls while slowly moving his penis in and out of his master's mouth, Pan came before he knew what was happening, his young body less easy to control than his master's. Without warning he arched his chest and face up from his master's groin, pressed his own penis down into Appleby's mouth, and cried out, "Aaaah! ahhh!" as his semen flowed out steadily. Falling off his master's body just enough to let Bacchus take his place, Pan lay there with both arms around one white leg, holding it tight and panting, a thin line of clear liquid and white semen oozing out of his penis onto his master's ribcage. Bacchus took up the task of sucking his master, while Appleby gladly took this second black boy's cock into his mouth already slick with cum. Pan had done most of the work needed, though: within seconds, Appleby's torso tensed, his thighs tightened while his buttocks clenched, moving a volcano of semen into the waiting mouth of Bacchus, who greedily swallowed his master's seed for the first time. Appleby's arms tightened around the perfectly curved, bubbled bottom floating above his face while he sucked harder on his slave boy's penis. Bacchus exploded in one huge rush of semen, shouting in a hoarse roar that sounded like the man he would grow into some day, then rolled off onto the other side of his master from Pan, gasping for breath. Man and boys lay like that recovering their breath; slowly one and then another sat up on the bed, and all three, sighing happily and sitting cross-legged, leaned in for a happy embrace. Aware of all he had yet to do, Appleby kissed both boys lightly, then leaped out of bed and sponged himself again at the basin, the boys coming around to help with washcloths, hands, and towels. Each boy followed suit to clean himself at the basin, and all three dressed. Looking at his watch again, and seeing it was nearing noon, Appleby embraced each slave boy quickly and went downstairs, leaving them to restore his room and bedding to order. Reaching the first floor, Appleby entered the dining room where Mama Cass, Mama Juno, and Athena were just finishing preparations for his lunch of vegetables and a simple farmer's cheese, all made on the island. His gaze rested on Mama Juno's dark caramel color, so similar to that of her sons upstairs. He wondered how much she knew of their activities last night and this morning, and whether she minded. Her manner toward him seemed no different, quietly respectful and businesslike. For this meal, the two older women rushed off to attend to other duties as soon as the lunch was placed before Mark. As he ate, Athena bussled about quietly, serving him as needed. Her answers to his questions about the plantation, the location of buildings, how the cheese was made and so forth were friendly and respectful but shy. Watching her while he ate, Appleby asked, "Athena, when is your baby due?" "Any day now, Master. Seems like I'm ready for it, too," she said, a shy smile spreading over her beautiful face which shared the family coloring, the same out-turned trumpet lips as her mother and brothers. Appleby thought once more of Athena lying with Troy and the passion that had brought her to this time, two beautiful and strong bodies rutting in animal rhythm. All of a sudden he was overcome with an inner conviction as strong as his need to speak it: "Athena--when your baby is born, it will be beautiful." She stopped in surprise, a little more stunned to hear him say such a thing than he was to have said it. A look of wonder replaced surprise, and then a look of calm pride as she drew herself up and replied, "Yes, Master, thank you--I believe it will be, too." The two looked at each other smiling in nearly a conspiratorial way. The moment was broken by Priam's entering the room and removing his straw hat. "Good afternoon, Master, sir, I expect you were very tired from the journey," he rumbled in his deep base voice. "Hello, Athena," he said, acknowledging his daughter-in-law, who smiled in return. "Papa Priam," she replied. "Master Mark, sir, I expect you will want to see the rest of the plantation and the island today?" Appleby eagerly agreed. "I will get one of the boys to show you, if that is alright, as Troy and I are bringing in hay," he said. "And if you have letters you wish to send, or notices to go into town, Troy sails out to meet the mail boat as it passes by about three o'clock this afternoon, sir." Pleasantly surprised at this unexpected arrangement, Appleby immediately went to the study, where he wrote several letters he had decided to send, and a note to Horatio Smith. Emerging into the hallway he found Mama Juno, and asked her to give the letters to Troy. She agreed; but he thought a small wrinkle of concern creased her brow as she saw the note to Smith. The day was sunny and pleasant, and Appleby decided to forego wearing a coat. Selecting a walking stick from a collection in a stand in the hallway, he began to move toward the front door but was nearly run over by the twins rushing ahead of him from the stairs. "We're going to take you on your tour, Master Mark!" said Bacchus, full of eagerness. "Yes, we'll show you everything," said Pan, with a knowing look. Both boys pushed out the front door ahead of Appleby. There they ran smack into Hector, who stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the lawn, a heavy cloth bag over his shoulder. "No, he said. I am taking Master Mark on the tour." It was not angry or hostile, it was simply a clear statement of what was going to happen. Although only a year older than the twins, Hector at that moment radiated an unmistakable spirit of masculine authority. Pan and Bacchus stopped in surprise, looked at each other and their master with wide eyes, and then quickly agreed. Their high spirits recovered, they returned to the house to do chores, while bidding their master a good day. "Well, Hector, it seems that you won out!" said Appleby, smiling. Shy now with the adult man, despite his victory, Hector's dark face was nevertheless split by a dazzling smile as he hung his head momentarily. Perking up, he said, "Master, are you ready to go? I can show you everything, and I brought along a picnic," indicating the cloth bag he carried. "Lead on!" said Appleby. With growing pride and confidence, Hector led the way, first showing his master the outbuildings around the main house. At the outhouse Hector retreated a few steps while his master went inside to make use of it. It was hardly the modern convenience Appleby was used to in Boston, but he supposed it would make do. Divided between a male side and a female side, he was pleasantly surprised that the smell was not as offensive as he had feared. Inspecting the structure afterwards, he discovered that it sat on an incline and that the lower parts were open from the back, with a system of ventilation. Straw was thrown over the leavings, as were kitchen scraps. It was in effect an effective composting system for the plantation's gardens. Moving on, Hector showed his master the laundry building, the kitchen, the smokehouse, and simple workshops. Sacks of grain filled the loft of a barn, where hung preserved hams and sausages, as well as dried fish. Master and slave boy also walked past the cabins where the servants lived. Mama Juno had her own now that the twins had effectively moved into the main house. Hector knocked at the door of his parents' home and, hearing no word from Priam or Mama Cass, entered and invited Appleby in. Clean, well built, and simple, with sanded wooden walls and floors, the ground floor was one large room with chairs, a straw bed by a window in the corner, a small iron stove for heating and simple cooking, lanterns, even homemade art and wood carvings on the walls and table. A ladder led to a loft upstairs. "Is that where you stay?" Appleby inquired. "No, Master, my sister Helen stays there." He pulled the door to the cabin behind him as they stepped outside. "I stay in the loft of Troy and Athena's cabin," he continued, gesturing to a similar structure across and down the path. "They don't mind your sleeping there?" asked Appleby in some surprise. "No, Master," said Hector, suddenly shy. Appleby dropped the subject in deference to Hector's silence. They walked on to explore the larger grounds beyond the immediate area of the main house. Small, well tended fields of hay and wheat grew, separated by lines of trees. When Appleby looked closely he could see they were fruit and nut trees. The plantation was well organized to be as self- sustaining as possible, and with the supplies stored in barns and the cellar beneath the main house, it could survive long stretches of bad weather or isolation from the mainland. Cattle, chickens, and pigs were in their proper enclosures, and a single donkey for the donkey cart. Three natural springs dotted the island, generating tiny creeks that ran through cuts down to the sea. These and a few well water pumps provided the island with all the fresh water the inhabitants needed. Hector led the way toward a path that ascended the one feature that might reasonably be called a small hill. Following behind, Appleby found himself strongly stirred by the bottom of the slave boy who went in front of him, moving and straining beneath the cloth of his breeches as he walked. Before yesterday he would not have allowed himself to think, to imagine, about such things, but he did now. Reflecting as well as enjoying, he decided that for most white males he had known, the shape of the buttocks was such that they curved down, the lobe of the bottom (so to speak) on the lower end, just above the thighs. But he had found no such thing with the African males of Seaward, especially Priam and his sons, Hector and Troy. Their butts pushed up, a gentle curve rounding the tops of the buttocks. It created an indentation that marked the beginning of the spine, which then ran up a markedly indented valley between two long hills of strong back muscle. Picking up the pace, his eyes were never more than a few short feet away from the strong, tight butt of his boy slave; he hardly saw the scenery for taking in this more pleasurable sight. Twice, as the path grew rocky, Hector reached back and offered his master his dark brown hand. Appleby gratefully took it for the help up, and Hector smiled, pleased at being able to help his master, holding on until his master released his grasp. At the top of the hill was a simple cemetery. Weathered stone and wood markers showed the resting places of the two groups of Seaward: white people on one side, black people on the other, but with no fence or barrier between them, merging together into the earth as they had, inevitably, in life. Appleby and Hector caught their breath as they surveyed the scene. From the spot the entire island could be seen, as well as the smudge of Charleston in the distance. On the west side, toward the mainland, Appleby could see the island's boat under a single sail, with Troy at the helm, slowly intercept a larger craft heading toward the port. It was too far to tell with certainty, but Appleby supposed that he was handing off the mail Appleby was sending, and perhaps receiving any that was directed to the island. Standing on top of their world, Hector put his bag to the ground for rest. Next to him, Appleby put his arm around his slave boy's neck, hand dangling down over his chest. "Thank you for showing me all this," he said. Surprised, Hector looked up quickly at his master with a bright grin, then lowered his head shyly. "You don't have to thank me, Master, it's my job." Then, in confusion, he added, in a softer voice, "Anyway, I want to do it for you." Appleby felt a surge of affection for this shy boy-man, and opened his palm to rub Hector's chest lightly. The boy leaned into his master ever so slightly. His solidity gave Appleby a flash of insight: Hector was in many ways a man inside a boy's body, five feet tall or a little over, with signs of a strong male character about to burst forth in the coming years. Master and slave boy stood like that for a minute, then Hector looked up and asked, "Want to go down to the beach, Master?" Appleby readily agreed, and they collected bag and walking stick to follow another path down to the sea. They were on the eastern side of the island, away from the western cove that looked over to Charleston. Here there was real, sandy beach, about fifty yards of it that stretched to the sea. Some sort of palm tree grew at the top fringe of the beach, mixed with scraggly evergreens. Hector led the way to the south. Appleby followed happily, stopping to pick up pieces of driftwood or interesting stone, studying the occasional large boulder that lay on the sand. Hector swerved inland at a place where the line of sand made a sort of natural land-cove among the trees, creating a protected spot surrounded by green and out of the sun. Here Hector opened his bag and pulled out a large sheet which he began to spread on the spot, Appleby readily helping him. Out of the bag came a flask of water, some cold chicken, a stone crock of butter, fruit, and a loaf of freshly baked, whole grain bread. Hector offered the water to Appleby who took a deep swig, and then offered it back to Hector. Looking at his master to see whether he meant the offer, Hector accepted the flask and drank gratefully. Then Appleby reached for it again and put his lips to the same hole from which his slave boy had just drunk, and took another sip. He smiled at Hector, who dipped his head and looked away, confused as to what this intimacy meant. Man and boy stood looking at the sea, enjoying the breeze-- and Appleby enjoying the figure of his slave boy, standing just a little between him and the sea. An idea took form in his mind, an idea that would have remained only that before yesterday. But freed by his experiences on Seaward Plantation in the last twenty-four hours, Appleby decided to act on it. "Do you want to swim, Hector?" he asked. Hector turned around and flashed a bright smile, nodded his head quickly in agreement. He hadn't had time to think of what that meant. Appleby bent over to pull off the short boots that he wore, then straightened up and quickly removed the shirt he wore, now damp with perspiration from their walk. Hector's full lips parted and eyes grew wide in surprise. He could not remove his eyes from his master's muscular chest and the small hills of his abdominal muscles, the deeply indented navel. Hector did not have time to recover from this revelation, for Appleby, standing straight as a rod with his eyes on his slave boy the entire time, unfastened his trousers and slid them and his undergarment down in one motion, kicking them off to the side as they reached his feet. Hector swallowed so hard that Appleby could hear it from six feet away. The slave boy was absolutely gaping at the white man who stood naked before him, the first such body he had ever seen, with its play of very light tan, pink, and white skin. His eyes opened even wider at the sight of his master's seven inch long penis, now visibly growing and slowly moving out from the master's thigh. "Hector?" prodded Appleby, trying not to smile outwardly as much as he was inwardly, pleased with the effect he knew he was having on his black slave boy. As if startled from a dream, Hector made a quick decision--really, the only decision he could make under the circumstances. He kicked off his simpler shoes, tore off his plain shirt and dropped the rough trousers he wore on the sand. Hesitating, looking quickly into his master's eyes for any sign of disapproval, he tugged down the loincloth he wore and, as it tumbled to the shore, stood there naked, six feet away from his master. Appleby had become used to the lithe, taut bodies of the twins over the last day. Here was something different: the burgeoning body of a man taking form on the frame of a fourteen year old boy. A slight sheen of perspiration and oil coated Hector's skin of deep bittersweet chocolate, highlighting the long, smooth muscles that rolled up into bulges on the shoulders, arms, and legs, that made regular, rolling hills down his belly. His chest was two rounded pads of muscle, showing strength and development where the twins' chests were flatter, his nipples two prunes where the twins had raisins. His slight movements as he cast his clothing aside made his muscles move with strength and authority beneath the dark, dark brown skin. Hills of muscles grew tight on his thighs, which were like two pillars of oak. As he turned to one side to kick his clothing away, Hector's high, tight, ample butt was visible, so much more muscular than the twins', a pad of muscle seeming to lift them up toward his back. Appleby caught sight of short sprays of wiry black hair tufted under his arms. At the base of his belly was a nest, not of the tight peppercorns the twins sported but of wiry, long black hairs spreading over and around the sides of his genitals. Boy though he was, his eight inch penis was larger than his master's, whose attention was arrested by the magnificent organ. Stories and whispers from his Boston childhood returned to him, legends of the superior masculine endowments of the black man. It seemed to be true in this case. His penis was longer than his master's, and somewhat thicker. It seemed outsized for the somewhat smaller head, hooded in skin still despite the fact that it, like his master's cock, was slowly rising and filling. If Hector's skin was dark chocolate, his penis and the heavy, pendulous sack behind it, were blacker than black, black with suggestions of purple and blue deep within the skin. Man and boy stood transfixed for a moment, then Appleby broke the spell and ran to the sea, laughing, calling to his slave to follow. Hector followed, and with heavy cocks swinging, man and boy splashed into the sea. Appleby turned when waist deep and splashed the boy as the water came up to his chest. Pleased at the attention, Hector returned a tentative splash that one could have read as an accident, unsure how far to go with his master. When Appleby laughed and splashed back, Hector returned fire with a right good will, and man and boy frolicked in the gentle waves. Wiping his face from a particular strong surge, Hector looked around and could not see Appleby. Fear for a moment that he had lost his master at the height of such a pleasurable moment seized him. Then he felt strong arms under the water seize his legs and pull him under. Appleby, a powerful swimmer trained in the sea off Massachusetts, had swum under water and tackled his slave boy around the knees. Man and boy broke water again, laughing and shouting. Appleby wiped the salt water from his eyes and then it was his turn to look around in wonder at the disappearance of his slave. He had not long to wait, for Hector, following his master's lead, was swimming towards the white man underwater. Not yet daring enough to physically tackle his master, though, Hector swooped up out of the sea just in front of Appleby, propelling himself out of the water with his powerful legs. Surprised, Appleby instinctively reached out both arms, catching his slave boy under the arms with his hands on the boy's rib cage. Quick as a flash, and just as instinctively, Hector reached his hands out and grasped his master's upper arms, dark brown fingers closing around the fair, tanned skin over smooth, rounded muscle. He sank back down to his feet, but man and boy were by then in an embrace neither had planned. For a moment they both stood in plain surprise, looking each other closely in the eyes, the white man's hands on his slave's side ribs, the boy holding his master's upper arms just below the shoulder. Lightning might have struck at that moment. Appleby's hands slid completely around Hector and pulled him close, one hand pulling at the long planes of muscular back, the other reaching down to grab the prominent buttocks. Hector kept his hands on his master's arms, but slid willingly into the embrace. Appleby and his black slave boy pulled into each other, their erect penises standing upright between their bellies and meeting, rubbing together in the sea water. Their faces close together, Appleby looked deep into Hector's eyes, dark as well water. He kissed the broad, rounded nose, the dense lines of eyebrows, and then the lips. Hector's upper lip was pleasantly full, but not as large as his lower lip, which curved away sweet and moist as a fruit, slick and shiny as a plum. Black and white mouths met, Hector's tongue frantically, wildly invading his master's mouth, all restraint now gone. "Kiss slowly," breathed Appleby into his slave's ear, then returned to the kiss. Taking the hint, Hector's tongue joined Appleby's in a dance of exploration rather than conquest, and for a moment they both sucked on one another, taking lips into mouths, running tongues over the ridges of white teeth, playing with the tips of their tongues. Hector's hands slid off his master's arms and around to his back, and he pulled tight. His strength reminded Appleby again that although fourteen, he was something more than a boy. A man's passion and desire fueled a boy's body, and Appleby and the slave boy for a moment met each other's passion and strength equally, struggling to see who could caress and fondle the hardest. Both broke off as if by agreement at the same time, and holding hands they ran back up the short sandy beach. Breaking ahead a bit, Hector threw himself on his back on the cloth he had earlier spread for their picnic, opening his arms to receive his master. Appleby nearly dove into him. Master pushed down, grinding his penis into his slave's lower belly, while the boy pushed upward just as hard in return, and with both arms tight around his master's back, pulled him down into himself. Struggling, whimpering with effort and passion, man and man-boy kept up this locked struggle for a moment. Then Hector parted his thighs and slipped his legs around his master's lower back, crossing his ankles together over his master's bottom. Thrusting down again, Appleby's rampant penis encountered something that made the boy wince and cry out softly. Appleby suddenly realized what it was; his penis had prodded the wrinkled asshole of his slave boy, and slick though it was with precum, it was not slick enough to go farther. Appleby thought quickly. This was all new territory to him, but of course he had heard the whispers and stories from other boys in his teen years. Hector kept his ankles crossed over his master's hips, and seemed to be waiting for what was to come next, looking with trust and desire into Appleby's face. Deciding to explore the new territory before him, Appleby looked around desperately. The stone crock of butter! Set out for their picnic, it was within easy reach. Pushing quickly off of his slave boy, Appleby reached for the crock and peeled off its covering. Appleby squatted on his haunches and reached into the crock, coming up with a wad of semi-soft butter. He pushed Hector's legs up and back, the boy's knees approaching his brown chest. He smeared the butter all over his rampant, aching penis, and then over his slave boy's dark brown, wrinkled asshole. Pushing a finger into the hole brought a yelp from Hector. Moving more gently, he moved his finger in circles, taking care to smear more butter inside with each revolution. Slowly he felt the circle loosen. Removing his finger he grasped his hard penis, placed the swollen purple head of it at his boy slave's love hole, and pushed it in with one steady shove. Hector gasped and held his breath. Involuntarily his hands reached out for his master's torso. But as his master began to slowly move in and out of him the pain changed. It became a pain-with-pleasure. Still rocking on his haunches, Appleby could not take his eyes away from his deep pink and purple penis sliding in and out of the dark chocolate bottom of the boy. Shifting position, he leaned out over the boy, stretching his legs straight back as Hector wrapped his legs around his master once more. Man and boy, master and slave, black and white, the two became one as they struggled together, locked together physically, Appleby's chest and belly now sliding against his slave boy's torso, lubricated by sweat and by the precum from Hector's rampant penis which still extended between them. Appleby buried his face into the neck of his slave boy, sucking and licking the skin, then sucking and chewing his dark earlobe, breathing heavily into the ear. His hair, still wet from the sea, lay in strands across Hector's face. Pantings became language as he began to repeat the boy's name, "Hector, Hector" in rhythm to his pumping. Appleby's hips soon began pistoning in and out, picking up speed like a locomotive, until, also like a train, he slammed forward into his slave boy, filling his guts with what felt like pints of white man's semen. Slumped over the squirming boy, Appleby took great gulps of air into his lungs--but not for long. Aware of the remaining needs of the twisting slave beneath him, Appleby pushed up off of him and rocked back on his heels with his thighs bracing against the boy's bottom and his still-hard penis still impaling the boy's asshole. Reaching his hands underneath the boy's lower back to hold it up, Appleby curled forward and, thankful for his agility, was able to take the first half of the boy's hard, slick penis into his mouth. Hector's legs were now locked around his master's lower back, his master's penis still inches inside of him, his own penis sliding in and out of his master's warm mouth. Hector's torso curled up and forward and he dug his elbows in the sand to support himself. His face was inches away from the top of his master's head, the long hair of the white man flicking Hector in the face as his head flailed up and down on the boy's black cock. The sight and the feeling was more than Hector could stand and he violently erupted in Appleby's mouth. His legs unhooked from around his master and, feet slamming onto the cloth, he pushed his groin up into his master's face. Appleby's cock popped out of the slave boy's ass with the force of the explosion. Again and then again he slammed upwards, filling his master's mouth and belly with his potent young semen. Then it ended and he collapsed flat on his back, his master coming down in exhaustion on top of him. The master and his slave boy breathed in rhythm with each other, slowing, their spirits floating in peace. Each ran his fingers through the other's hair, smiling in delight at the difference in textures. Then Appleby pushed himself off and stood, regarding for a moment the naked, nearly black figure of his slave spread-eagled on the cloth beneath him. Appleby extended his hand and Hector grasped it, allowing himself to be pulled up into a gentle embrace. Then wordlessly, Appleby turned and, taking the boy's hand again, ran into the sea to bathe. They exchanged no words but laughter and smiles, then returned from the sea to the cloth, arms around each other's shoulders. Hector put out the picnic supplies, as the sun was dipping towards the horizon, eagerly helping his master to the good, simple food they had with them. When he offered the remaining butter they both laughed, and spread it upon their bread with extra zest, nudging and winking at each other. The meal done, they lay side by side, speaking in low throaty voices of small things: the setting sun, the feel of the sea, the soft shore breeze, the different birds in the trees above. Time came to leave, and they wrapped up the picnic things in the bag Hector had brought. Hector led the way to a path that took them up a gentle incline back towards the main house. Walking now beside the boy, now a few steps behind him, Appleby thought he saw something new: a manly swagger, a confidence in his step, so different from the equally delightful frisking of Pan and Bacchus. Twilight had fallen deeply when the path split, close to the main house. "I have to go down this way to take these things to Mama Juno," said Hector. If you go that way you'll go by the cabins and straight on to the big house," he continued as he gestured down the other path. Then, before Appleby could make any move, Hector dropped the bag, pulled his master to him and hugged him fiercely, kissed him softly on the lips, then grabbed the bag and disappeared wordlessly in the twilight down the other path. Appleby watched him go, his heart full. Then he continued on his way silently, treading on the soft pine needles that carpeted the path. The cabins were still dark as he approached them. Feeling a need to urinate, he swerved off the path to walk the rear of a cabin to relieve himself against a tree, then continued on with the intention of returning to the path. It was then that he heard sounds, not exactly voices but human, coming from the cabin behind which he had peed, and he saw a window with a light inside and a curtain drawn partways across. The night was nearly dark now. Approaching the window stealthily he peeked in, aware that since the room was lighted from inside as well as curtained, its occupants would not be able to see him. Holding his breath for quiet, he crept up to the window and peeked through a convenient hole in the curtain to see what was making the sounds. It was Priam, buck naked, on his knees and powerfully fucking Mama Cass whose strong, wide bottom was presented to him as dogs do it while her chest and shoulders rested on the bed. Low, rhythmic moans came from her with each slam of her husband's penis into her vagina. Priam was muttering words under his breath that Appleby could only half make out. Time was when Appleby might have maneuvered to keep the woman in sight through the hole in the curtain, but that time was before his experiences of these two days on the island. Now he felt a hunger to see the man whose son he had just fucked on the beach. With Priam's figure opposite the center of the window, Appleby found that if he moved one way he could see Priam's powerful buttocks clench and unclench rapidly as he slammed his penis into his wife. He had the same high, tight ass as his sons, unslackened by his fifty years. Appleby smiled as he recognized the upward rounded countours of the bottom that he now knew so well. Sweat streaming down the older man's dark back gleamed in the lantern light. Shifting to another angle and peering through another hole, Appleby could see more of Priam's great lobes of chest muscles that bounced and clenched as he rode his wife, could see his well-muscled abdomen tightened hard in the effort of his labor. His older, still handsome face mouthed words and grimaced in pleasure and struggle. Unfortunately, Appleby had arrived late in the game, for soon Priam gave a great shout that Appleby was sure must bring someone running, bucked hard four times, then collapsed onto his wife's padded bottom, pushing both of them down to the bed. Afraid that the commotion would bring someone to investigate, Appleby pulled away from the window, feeling despite his own efforts of the day a swelling in his groin. He tiptoed softly on the pine needles around the far end of the cabin, thinking to slip back to the path and on to the main house. As he cleared the corner of the house and had but a few steps to the path, he looked back and saw sitting on the simple front porch of the cabin the figure of a boy dressed in white clothing that caught the last of the fading light. Caught! Appleby said to himself, then looked closer and realized it was no boy but instead the eleven year old daughter of the couple he had just seen, the sister of the boy whose flesh he had penetrated on the beach: It was Helen. She was looking right at him. Then she put her fingers to her lips and--it was so hard to tell in the dark, had she winked at her master? A shy smile flashed white teeth in the dark. With nothing else to do about it, Appleby smiled and winked back, waved, and slipped away quickly on the path. Coming into the main house a few minutes later, he found Pan and Bacchus waiting for him in the library, reading books in the library. They leaped up when they saw their master enter and frolicked round him with cries of "Oh Master! we have missed you!" and "Did that Hector show you everything? Was he good to you?" and "We have fresh clean sheets on the bed for you!" and other exclamations of joy and solicitation. They seemed pleased and even relieved when he assured them that Hector had indeed given him a very good afternoon--but of course, he spared them details. The boys were all for drawing their master another bath, but he told them that he had bathed in the sea--twice! They agreed that a sea bath was better than the tub, and so bringing the lanterns with them they led the way to the stairs up to the second floor. There was a boy on either side of him, telling him news of their own activities, plucking at his shirt to gain his attention away from a brother, holding and squeezing his hand when they wished to emphasize a particularly important point, chattering all the while. Once in Appleby's bedroom, the boys worked quickly to make it comfortable. A wind was up off of the sea, and clouds were gathering, scudding across the moon; it seemed as if a storm might come up, and the temperature was dropping a few degrees. Pan lowered the windows that were open against the chance of rain. Bacchus helped his master to wash up, showing him the full pitcher of water by the basin, handing him the soap and towel as he needed them. Pan came up as Appleby was drying his hands and face and said, "Master, do you need this?" He was holding the chamber pot. Despite having relieved himself behind Priam and Cass's cabin, Appleby felt that he could do so again before sleeping. Pulling his penis out, it seemed natural to urinate into the porcelain pot held by the two brown hands. Bacchus craned his head around to see the proceedings as well, both boys studying their master's organ as much in curiousity as desire. Shaking out the last drops, Appleby continued to disrobe, not stopping at his underwear but becoming naked entirely. The boys stowed the chamber pot away quickly and returned their attention to their master, standing quietly and smiling, awaiting orders. "Boys--Bacch, Pan, prepare for bed. Would you," he said, hesitantly, "would you like to sleep with me tonight?" "Yes!" they both said with hasty delight, and rushed into the adjoining dressing room. When they emerged naked moments later, Appleby was sitting up in bed with the covers around his waist. The two naked brown teenage slaves, smiling broadly, ran for the four-poster bed, slim brown penises half erect and flopping, and crawled under the covers with him. All three had felt a temperature drop in the last few minutes and were grateful in that moment just to snuggle in together. Appleby was happy and at peace, reclining back against the full, stacked pillows with a caramel brown boy on each side. Indeed, he was happy enough, and tired enough from the day's sexual labors already, that he said to himself that it was enough to be there like that. Reaching across Bacchus, who was on the side closest to his bedside table, he turned down the wick on the oil lamp until it went out. A few rays of moonlight from time to time came through the gathering clouds into the room. The boys seemed to understand that tonight would be a time of physical closeness but not necessarily physical passion--a time for touch but not for grasping. "Tell us about when you were a boy, Master Mark, sir," said Pan. "Oh? That wasn't that long ago, you know!" he said, which solicited giggles from the boys. He pulled them close, arms around each, rubbing gently on sides, backs, hips. They cuddled close to their master, curling the hair from his head, underarms, and chest around their fingers. Appleby began stories of summers at Cape Cod, of games on the lawn, of favorite toys. Soon the boys, enchanted by tales of wonder from far away Boston, fell asleep. Appleby sighed with contentment and drifted away himself.