Date: Sun, 30 Nov 2014 08:43:41 -0800 From: Seth Kirkcauldy Subject: Weeping Willow 3 Weeping Willow - Part 3 of 4 copyright 2014 Seth Kirkcauldy seth-kirkcauldy@sbcglobal.net ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This story may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the author's permission. The author grants the Nifty Archive a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancellable license to display this work. This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are a product of the author's imagination, or used fictitiously. This story contains erotic situations between intergenerational males of differing racial backgrounds. If it is illegal for you to read this, or you just think it's yucky, please leave now. Please donate to the Nifty Archive. The morning sun peeked at James and Mud through the curtain of the willow tree; and having been caught spying, blushed its embarrassment across the dawn. The new lovers had spent the hot, sticky night beneath the drooping boughs, alternating their sweating, straining bouts of sexual frenzy with sprawling, panting periods of rest. They had come to their spot next to the river in the darkest part of the previous night to search out a cool breeze; but in the month of July, there was nothing cool to be found in all the state of Mississippi. Mud's thickly muscled thighs glistened like oiled mahogany in the early light. He lay on his back with his feet planted flat, knees bent and thighs parted while James lay between them with his mouth around the head of his very large member. The crown barely fit within his suctioning lips, but the stretch of his jaw felt oddly satisfying as he serviced the large man before him. His two hands grasped the thick shaft, squeezing it gently in an upward glide and milking drops of fluid into his waiting mouth. He suctioned them up and laved the spongy head. He loved doing this for Mud. He loved the tangy musk of sweat hidden in the juncture of his legs. He loved the way the man's ridged stomach heaved as he gasped for air, and how his thighs quivered and walled him in on both sides. But most of all, he loved the sounds Mud made. With his eyes closed tight and his head rolling from side-to-side, Mud provided rich, soft groans that seemed to reverberate in the deep well of his chest. It was the sound of abyssal need and profound satisfaction, and it unraveled James completely. Mud's long moans slowly gave way to staccato grunts as his hips started to pivot and jerk. James dropped one hand to the pendulous scrotum and rubbed it gently as it drew up next to the man's body. The sac tightened until it was a knot; and James massaged it roughly as Mud began to gasp. His large muscles contracted as he spasmed, flooding James' mouth with his pungent fluid. James swallowed it down, and licked the cock clean while Mud twitched and gasped for air. The boy then launched himself on top of the much bigger man and pressed his lips to Mud's in a sloppy kiss. "Four! Told you I could make you do it four times. You're not too old, Mud, see? You just need practice. Tonight we'll do five." Mud cracked open one eye, squinted at the sun filtering through the willow's leaves, and then at the smug boy atop him. "Ya's tryin' ta kill me. But I'll shore die a happy man." James laughed joyfully. "I think I hit number five before you hit two." "Yeah? Well I ain't six years ole. Or twelve, or whatever age ya is." "Fourteen. You thought I was six? That would be having relations with a child." Mud rolled his eyes and looked uncomfortable, making James regret his joke. "Please stop worrying about that. It's not wrong, Mud. It's just not. You can't really be held accountable for your actions when I wake you up the way I do." Mud shook his head and said, "I knows better." He squinted again thoughtfully and added, "But I also knows ta take happiness whenever it falls atop me, an' ya shore fall atop me an awful lot." He squeezed James tightly and kissed him again. His large lips were soft as pillows, an odd accompaniment to the harsh scratch of his whiskers. James sighed contentedly and nuzzled his face into Mud's sweaty neck. After just a moment, his tongue snaked out to lick the dark skin languorously. Mud groaned and laughed, and then pushed the boy off him. "Tonight! Leave me be fer now, boy. Ya's gonna kill me." "I want you inside me again tonight, Mud. Like you did before? I'm ready again." "No. Dat hurt ya too bad. We ain't doin' dat again." "We are," James said stubbornly. "It only hurt because it was my first time. It'll be easier now, I know it. It stopped hurting after a while. And I know you liked it a lot. Plus I got some whale oil from Aunt Mary's lamp. That'll help." Mud was suddenly swallowing deeply and breathing shallowly. "I - I dint like hurtin' ya." "You liked being inside me, though. And I want you there so badly." "JAAAAAAMES!" The haunting call of his name floated to them on the morning air, a disembodied ghost ship sailing across the fields. They locked eyes, and then scrambled quickly into their scattered pieces of clothing. Mud vaulted onto the lowest branch of the willow and started to climb while James cut through the bulrushes with the sharp blade of his body. "Hello?" He called back, clearing the tall cattails and wondering who was hailing him. It was not Aunt Mary's voice, he was sure of that. There was a boy's silhouette against the brightening eastern sky, standing next to the open door of the barn. "Davy? Is that you?" "Yessir!" The boy laughed, closing the door and racing across the fields toward James. "I thought you slept in the barn like the animal you are!" "Too hot last night," James yelled; he ran to meet the boy halfway, pulling leaves and twigs from his short hair. "It was surely a scorcher. Daddy says the good Lord is punishing all the niggers in the fields for Lincoln's nomination. I figure a lot of them will die this week if the heat stays up. I'm all for that, even if it costs those plantation owners a lot of money. You know what? Daddy says there's a lot more niggers than real folk in Mississippi now. They never should have brought them to our country to begin with, right?" Davy was so certain of James' agreement that he moved immediately to the reason for his visit. "You want to take a swim today? I figure the only way to survive the month of July is to stay submerged. What do you say?" James couldn't answer right off because his teeth were clenched just as tightly as his fists. He blinked a few times and took a deep breath so he didn't knock down one of the few friends he'd been able to make. "James?" James unlocked his jaw and tried to be calm. He was taking deep breaths, but he knew it was making his nostrils flare. Davy laughed. "You look just like a nigger when your nose goes all wide like that," he said. James' fist against Davy's jaw was nearly as satisfying as all the things he'd done with Mud the prior night. It was a rush of hot emotion followed by a sudden burst of release laced with pain. His knuckles exploded with distress, and then the other boy was sprawled at James' feet and spitting blood out of his mouth. Davy looked up at James with shocked eyes and a battered jaw that was set angrily. "You shouldn't have done that; I was just poking fun, and only an idiot wouldn't know it." He dabbed at his lips with one hand and looked at the blood. James merely glared at him, ready to knock him down again if he tried to get up. Davy took stock of his attacker and decided to retreat. "Even so, what I said was mean. I shouldn't ever have said you looked like a nigger. That was an awful thing to say, and I'm sorr...." The resultant beating Davy received was quite thorough, bloody, and - as Mud explained to James later - pointless. Young Davy never understood the reason James had done it. "Ya cain't educate wid yer fists, boy," Mud told him angrily as he traced his letters in the dark Mississippi soil. They were sitting in the barn after dinner, and darkness was starting to descend. "Da only thin' fists teach folk is how ta hurt. Was dat da lesson ya was wantin' ta teach? You want dat boy ta know how ta hurt people more dan he do already? How 'bout I make ya a willow whip fer next time?" Mud was angry, and James was sullen. "He was spouting idiocy," James defended himself. Mud laughed at him. "Ah. Ya's da punisher a idiots now, is ya? Well, I think dat be a full time job so no time ta teach niggers ta read or ta torture poor grown men who just wanna live godly lives." James flinched and looked hurtfully at Mud, who had the decency to drop his eyes, curse at himself, and choke out, "I ain't sayin' I's one a dose men, now..." "I know what you're saying," James said hollowly. "You really do want me to leave you alone, don't you?" "No," Mud said clearly. "No, I'd be awfully sad and lonely if ya left me alone. I shouldn'ta said it, James. I's mad at ya, dat's all. I's mad. Ya got in a fight over me, and I don' want dat at all." "You don't get a say in what I fight for; and I'll fight for you as long as I live," James replied defiantly. He was trembling. Mud's mouth dropped open and his golden eyes searched James' blue ones. Finally, Mud pulled him in for a thorough kiss. "I dunno what I's gonna do wid ya," Mud whispered, his forehead pressed against James', and his breath puffing across the boy's lips. "I do," James said. "Get the whale oil." * * * "We need a place for you to hide," James explained a few days later. He was prying up another board in the floor of the barn while the sweat dripped from the end of his nose. "I want you to dig out all this dirt; we'll haul it out to the river after dark. It needs to be deep enough for you to be able to lay there under the floor." "Like a corpse in da groun'?" Mud asked, scowling. "Please don't argue with me on this, Mud. Davy made one thing very clear to me: people are going to show up when we don't expect, so you need a place to disappear. I'm only doing this to keep you from being a real corpse in the ground." "I'll just hide in da hay," Mud replied darkly. His irritation was radiating through the entire barn. James sighed and consigned himself to the fight. He'd already warned Mud that he'd fight for him, even if Mud, himself, was who he had to fight. "You're bigger than would fit under all the hay in this barn; if you hadn't noticed, you're about the size of Buchanan. What is wrong with you?" Mud's eyes darkened with anger, but then he shook it off. It was a conscious effort; James saw him do it. "I's good. Nothin's wrong." The large man winced as he spoke. James dropped the floorboard and stood to his feet, facing Mud squarely. "Liar." Mud made a strangled sound, closed his eyes tight and shook his head. "Lor' have mercy on me. I swear I couldn't love ya any more dan I does. I run away from a white man just ta get myself more enslaved dan ever by a white boy." James was not at all pleased by that poetry, even if it was a love poem. He opened his mouth to protest, but Mud continued. "It's true; I's mad as a hornet... but ya gots nothin' ta do wid it. My mouth hurt real bad, boy. I gotta tooth about ta do what da whip couldn't: I swear it gonna kill me. I's mad at everythin'." James' anger went out of him in a rush and he went right to Mud's side and touched his jaw lightly. "You're in pain? Why didn't you say something?" "I's in pain," Mud said drily. "Now what? Ain't nothin' ta be done, so why bother ya wid it?" "Idiot," James said softly. He pressed his face into Mud's chest and hugged him. "I heard you, Mud. I heard you say you love me." He stepped back, his eyes bright and shiny. "I'm going into town now to take care of some things. Please dig out the hole I asked for. For me, Mud. Please?" Mud cupped his face gently and nodded. "I'll do it." James ran to the house and poked his head in the front door. "I'm heading to town for an errand, Aunt Mary; do you need anything?" "You're restricted to the grounds, James. No errands for you. A boy who can't control his fists needs to stay away from other people." Her reply was stated archly from the kitchen, and the fact that it was a fair judgment made James flush with embarrassment. "Aunt Mary?" The tone of his voice got her to turn to him. "It was stupid and wrong, what I did to Davy. It won't ever happen again. Now, I need to go to town. I'd like your permission to do what I have to do. It's to help somebody and nothing more." "Is the somebody you?" James smiled. She was more like his mother than he had originally thought. "No, Ma'am." "Is the somebody Mud?" "Yes, Ma'am." She considered him a moment. "Don't think for a minute I didn't hear you say that you were planning to go with or without my permission; but you have it because you took the time to seek it out. You're a good boy, James. I'm going to trust you to do what's right. It's time to show how smart you are and put your fists away." James shifted uncomfortably, remembering that Mud had said the same thing to him. "My mother taught me what was right, Aunt Mary; I love her for it. But you've shown it to me. Since the day I arrived, you've shown me exactly what it looks like." He closed the door before she could respond to that, but still glimpsed her wide-eyed look and opened mouth. He knew he'd said the right thing, and it was every bit the truth. His walk into town was a slow trek through the thick heat. It coruscated off the cotton fields in distorting waves, making him see the crop in a way he had not before. The bolls had cracked open in the prior weeks, exposing the fluffy fibers within; and the bracts had withered to tough brown claws. James faltered to a stop to take in the sobering panorama, and an ache grew inside him as he surveyed the hundreds of thousands of strong, brown vegetal hands straining upward in the heat to hold the soft heads of white aloft. A hot wind moaned through the throng, giving voice to the misery of the dark stalks, twisted in the heat from their labors, but resolute in their destiny. James gritted his teeth against the shimmering vision and stumbled on his way. It took Doctor Galen a few minutes to respond to the knock on his door, and when he opened it to find James on his front porch, his eyes searched him critically. "I suppose you need patching, too?" He asked gently. "Pardon me, Sir?" "I ran into your friend Davy the other day as he was limping home from your house." "Oh," James weakly muttered in embarrassment. "You know, James, you can't really - " "Teach people anything with my fists? Punish all the idiots in the world? Show that I'm smart by acting stupid?" The doctor laughed. "I see your aunt is doing a marvelous job. Come in and tell me how I can help you." James followed the doctor through the open door and into a front room that served as an office and surgery. A large table with no chairs was in the center of the room, a desk was pushed into a corner, and bookshelves lined all the walls overflowing with tomes and strange devices, the like of which he had never seen before. "Wow," James breathed. The doctor chuckled. "Boys always like the caskets I've built in the back room and the medical equipment up here. I suppose these look like torture devices; so naturally, the boys are enthralled." "I've never seen so many books," James gasped in reply. He walked to a shelf and touched the leather binding of a large volume, tracing the gold tooling with a finger. "You may look at it, if you wish," the doctor said, watching James carefully, a thoughtful expression upon his face. "Oh, N-no," James demurred, turning away from the shelves, but that placed him in front of the desk where another pile of books awaited him. His eyes alighted upon one that was bookmarked and recently read, looking as if it had been hastily covered by the others. He managed not to touch this one and give away that he'd seen it, but his eyes roamed the spine and partially-hidden cover greedily. He wrestled away from all the publications and turned to meet the appraising eye of the old man. "I'm here for a toothache. My tooth is hurting fiercely." The doctor frowned and approached him. "Is it? Open your mouth, please. Which side?" "Uhhh.... Over here?" James pointed vaguely to his left. "Upper or lower?" "Lower?" Doctor Galen squinted at his answer-that-was-a-question, and then examined the quadrant gently with his fingers. James groaned at one point, so the doctor carefully reexamined a couple teeth, eliciting odd noises from the boy at what seemed to be random intervals. The doctor bit the inside of his cheek, looked at James searchingly and then went through a desk drawer to bring out a small tincture bottle with glass dropper. "One drop of this liquid on the tooth every few hours will kill the pain." "What is it?" James asked. "It's a proprietary nostrum, which one should normally avoid. However, a colleague discovered this one is actually quite effective for pain, especially in the mouth. It works on contact." The doctor wrapped the bottle in brown paper and handed it to the boy. "If by any chance you should suddenly weigh more than a hundred pounds, take three drops instead of one. You understand?" James stiffened under the doctor's intense gaze, and then looked down at the floor guiltily. "I understand that you're a very smart man," he said quietly. "And you have very nice, very healthy teeth. Is there anything else you need, young man?" "That book," James said suddenly, pointing at Twelve Years a Slave which peeked out from its poor hiding place. "How much would it cost me to buy that book?" The doctor frowned in puzzlement until he twisted around and saw the book in question. He smiled; it was a slow thing that crept from his mouth to his eyes. "You may have this book. I've read it a few times already. Someone else should have the pleasure. But it's not the sort of thing your new friends would understand; it would be best for both of us if they did not know you had it." "I - I... I don't need it quite yet. May I come back when I'm ready for it?" "You may. I'd like very much if you came back, James. I've a feeling we've much in common, and I could surely use a friend." James grinned at the old man. "I'd like that, too. How much do I owe you, Sir?" "Hmmm. I'm thinking that our patient with the real toothache probably doesn't have much money. True?" "It's true, Sir. But I'll find a way to pay you." The doctor nodded. "I could use some help building a few new caskets, if you'd like to learn that skill. After that, I think I could surely do with someone to organize all these books. I've rather forgotten what I have in here, and a good inventory and organization would be appreciated." James was elated at the opportunity, but then he thoughtfully frowned, opened his mouth, but hesitated and didn't say anything. The doctor laughed at his tortured expression. "Yes?" The boy sighed heavily, the weight of his new friendship suddenly an uncomfortable burden, but he liked the doctor very much and would do the right thing. "The people in town..." he hesitated, but the doctor was already smiling at him and nodding his head. "Nigger lover?" the old man asked baldly. James nodded, but ducked his head in embarrassment. The man closed his eyes and sighed. "I was aware, but I thank you for your warning. I have people here who need me, though." James' eyes darted up to meet the piercing blue ones of the doctor. "I think it might be worse than you believe it is. I've heard threats. Please be careful." The doctor blinked at him a few times and then nodded soberly. "Thank you, James; thank you very much. You're a good friend." * * * "How did ya get these?" Mud squinted at the bottle suspiciously. "I told the doctor I had a toothache." "Ya lied." It was not a question, so James did not answer it. Mud sighed. "I wish ya didn't do things like dat fer me." "You'd take care of it yourself if you could. You'd do it for me if this was all backwards." Mud scowled. "Maybe, but I still don' want..." "Three drops, Mud. Please do it now so you can remember why I did this for you; how I feel about you." Mud finally met his eyes. "Take more dan a toothache ta make me ferget dat. Ya do it, please." He handed the bottle back to the boy and lay on their bed of hay with his mouth open. James suppressed the hormone-driven fantasies this pose conjured, and opened the tincture bottle with shaky fingers. His voice was steady, though. "Which tooth?" Mud gestured vaguely to the left bottom area, making James smile at his lucky guess with the doctor. He filled the thin glass tube, stoppered it with his fingertip and then administered three large drops onto the offending tooth. He then accidentally administered five more in a rush as he was removing the tube from Mud's mouth. "Oops." "Whadya mean, 'oops'?" "Just a couple extra." Mud frowned, but then said, "Be okay. I's a big feller." "I hope so." "Wow, dat work fast!" Mud's face split into the first grin James had seen in a couple days. "Feel real funny; but much better." He took a deep breath, expelling all the misery he'd kept bottled within, and then smiled warmly at James. "Thank ya. I been an ass." The boy managed to throttle his smile and tried his best to look persecuted instead. "You have. You are greatly indebted to me now." "I always pays ma debts," Mud said huskily, cupping James' jaw. "What can I do fer ya, boy?" "You know what I want." "I does. But I wanna hear ya say it ta me. Use dat word." Mud's dark pupils had expanded to swallow all the warm brown color. The excitement in his eyes turned them to bottomless wells, devouring James. Their experiments with the whale oil had gone well enough to replace most of Mud's concern about pain, leaving only Mud's inhibitions about James' age as the remaining hurdle to their pleasure. While Mud usually lumbered over that hurdle reluctantly, the current look in his eye indicated he was ready to vault completely over it. "I want you to fuck me, Mud. I like saying it for you. You like to hear me say I want your big prick inside me, fucking me?" "Oh yes, I shorely does. Dose words from yer pretty li'l mouth is right wicked. Good Lor' fergive me, but I loves it." James pulled off his boots and tossed away his shirt, then peeled down his trousers and drawers. He could feel Mud's hungry gaze upon his skin, licking his slowly-exposed flesh with wet heat. The boy kicked the clothes off his feet and, turning his back on Mud, bent to dig the whale oil out of the hay. He heard Mud's soft groan when his ass spread with the movement; and James' lips twisted into a hidden smirk as he felt the heady intoxication of the man's lust wash over him. He dropped the oil where it would be easy to reach, and then he turned to meet Mud's dark gaze. He fell backwards on the blanket, rolling onto his shoulders so that his legs arched over and behind his head. He spread the cheeks of his ass with his hands and let an index finger slide into the cleft to stroke at his quivering hole. "Please, Mud. Fuck me. Come bugger your boy. Fuck me right now." Mud actually choked for a moment, coughing at the wanton display, and at the filthy words he'd taught his boy to say. The sound of them pulsed in his loins with the tempo of the blood pounding in his ears. He felt so very good; he'd never wanted anything more than he wanted to slide inside that tight sheath. His eyes were open so wide they looked comical; but then the embers of his lust flared brightly, burning his surprise away until only his throbbing need remained. He couldn't seem to get his clothes off fast enough, trying not to rip them in his haste, but so frantic to be inside the boy that he could hardly think of anything else. James did some groaning himself as Mud's large ebony prick bounced into the air, dripping already from the large slit at the tip. "Hurry," he urged the man, who was already scrambling toward him. Mud's large, calloused hands ran gently up the boys thighs to his small ankles. His legs looked like thin pale willow branches in his big hands, and seemed to be just as pliable. He pushed them down further, past James' ears and into the hay so that the small, creamy ass of the boy tilted up toward him like an offering. In the lamplight, James' skin was the color of a peach, glowing against Mud's own dark flesh, a flash of lightening against a midnight sky. "Ya look good enough ta eat," Mud rasped, staring at the rosy entrance to James' body. And it was true; the color and image of a peach made him hungry to know the taste of James, and before he'd given it thought, his head dipped down and his tongue pushed away James' finger so that he could stroke that tight ring himself, but with a different, broader, and wetter appendage. He lapped gently for a few moments, experimenting with the sharp taste of his boy and noticing that the tight muscle softened and relaxed while James whimpered and groaned. The taste was intoxicating, and Mud wanted more. He worked his tongue against the opening, wriggling the tip inside his body. James went completely still and his eyes and mouth opened wide; but no sound emerged. He felt as if he stood balanced upon a fence rail, arms wide to keep his balance; but then Mud's slippery tongue plunged deeply in a powerful, sinuous slide, and James plummeted from his perch, tumbling over and over into pleasure as Mud's tongue squirmed within him. It was due to his own silent, arrested state that he was able to hear the guttural groans of the big man as he ravenously explored him. James' limbs began shaking with the wonder of being desired, and the need for more that was catching fire inside him. He was twisting in Mud's grasp, unable to comprehend the fullness of the pleasure he was feeling. He pushed up into the man's mouth, desperate to be consumed by him, and was rewarded with a happy hum from the big man and deep thrusts of the tongue. That tongue. It twisted and squirmed, digging fully within him, leaving him panting with a depth of want he had not yet known. His heart swelled, as if it was as full and engorged as his adolescent prick. He thought he would go mad if this continued much longer. "Mud. Please. Fuck me. Please, Mud." It was a gasp, a whimper, a beggar's cry. Mud's dark face rose from his ass, glistening in the lamplight with his juices. James watched wide-eyed as Mud's thick tongue circled his plump lips, slurping every taste from himself before he grinned down at the boy in a wide-mouthed smile. "Say it again," he growled. "Fuck me, Mud. Please." "Again." "Please!" James was hoarse with desire, and his legs shook like a colt's within Mud's strong grasp. "Fuck me." Mud grabbed the oil and slicked his cock; but he did not hurry. He watched James squirm and pant while he held the boy's ankles in one hand, and lubricated his own throbbing organ with the other. "Now?" He taunted the boy. "Now!" James demanded. He was at the end of his rope, and his heated gaze met Mud's to let him know he could take no more. "Whatever ya need, boy. Anythin' at all." Mud's lips descended on James' and devoured his loud yelp of pain as the large, dark crown pushed inside the young body. The muscle clasped right behind the head, throttling Mud in a choke-hold of pleasure. He growled in ecstasy, and willed his hips against their insistent desire to drive deep into that tight, molten heat. James' whine grew until it was almost a scream, but he kept his head and swallowed his pain. He knew that if Mud suspected how much this hurt him even with the oil, he'd never do it again. "Just hold right there a moment, Mud. Please. I need you to stay right there for a bit, okay?" "Anythin' ya tell me, Sweetboy. I'll do anything ya say. I needs ya so bad I cain't hardly think sometimes. I never woulda known I could need a boy like ya, James. But God help me, I need ya so much I cain't stand it. Ya's a bright, bright light in ma dark world." And as those words penetrated the pain, James felt the red tide recede, to be replaced by the growing wave of pleasure. "Now, Mud. Slide in slow, but go all the way. I need to feel you deep inside me." Mud eased his hips forward in a heavenly glide, sliding deep in the slick warmth of James' body. When his pubic bone ground against James, they both groaned into the other's open mouth. The pure joy of being filled so completely had James suddenly laughing with his happiness, an unexpected expression that with lesser men might cause concern, but with Mud, it merely caused his lips to curl with carnal glee from the unexpected clutch of the young body milking him greedily. "Lor' above. Laugh again." James could hardly speak; the cock within him seemed to steal his breath. "I can't," he gasped. "No?" Mud challenged him, and then dug the free fingers of his right hand into the unprotected landscape of James' ribs. James rocked with mirth, skewering himself on the large cock within him, and shaking with laughter and pleasure. He gasped for breath and tears clouded his eyes. "Stop that!" he demanded, panting. Mud stopped immediately. "Anythin' ya tell me, Sweetboy." He cupped James' face and kissed him gently, soothing his fingertips down the ribs he'd molested. "Anythin' at all. I'll do whatever ya command me." "Fuck me," James pleaded. "Please, Mud. I want to be yours." Mud withdrew slowly until the crown was again being choked by James' tight muscle. "Ya always be mine, Sweetboy," he said solemnly, and then slid forward again, seating his prick fully inside, and watching James' eyes roll back in his head. He didn't really understand how this could be pleasurable to the boy, but he accepted that whatever he was doing felt as good or better than he felt himself. And that was saying a whole lot. Mud couldn't remember ever feeling as much pleasure as he did in that moment. It might have been the extra drops of medicine, or it might have been the pleasure of a body after such a long loneliness; but as Mud realized how much it meant to him to make this good for James, he realized what it actually was. He kissed the boy's lips again. "I love ya," he said. James opened his eyes and looked at him soberly. "Not jus' what we's doin' right now. Ya understand? I love ya. Ya hear me?" "I hear you," James whispered in awe. He heard him so well, in fact, that the words would reverberate within him in the future, echoing off the empty walls of his chest during quiet, lonelier days ahead. Mud grinned in gratitude. "Now?" He asked. "Now," James agreed, his eyelids lowered with lust. The wicked smile on the boy's mouth twisted like depravity inside of Mud; a twist that felt so very good. Mud snapped his hips, plunging himself deeply inside the boy to the accompaniment of a slap of flesh and the satisfaction of invasion. He did it again. And then again. A sheen of sweat covered Mud's muscular body, slippery like silk. James' fingers slid on it, stroking the strong, ebony thighs as they pumped ruthlessly against his ass, giving him everything that he never knew he'd wanted, but would now crave for the rest of his life. The rhythm was like that of the trains he'd ridden: the thunderous pounding against his body, the rocking comfort, the excitement of unexplored territory, and the puffing hiss of steamy breath against his ear. James reached his pinnacle long before Mud, but he was glad of that. It allowed him to be free of the selfish drive of pleasure and watch the dark visage of the muscular man twist into a snarl of pure lust. There was no pain now, just the odd sensation of being filled and emptied by a war cannon. The fact that it might fire at any moment was part of the thrill of battle; and James relished every thrust and bruise he earned in the fight. "I don' wanna hurt ya. I don' wanna hurt ya. I don'..." Mud was whispering his meditation to himself and to James, trying so hard to keep his head in the frenzy. James reached up to pinch one of his dark nipples, and pinched it HARD. "Fuck me harder," he growled to the man. Mud's pupils were so wide that there was no color left at all. They swallowed his eyes, and they swallowed James. His mouth set into a feral grin, and he slammed his hips forward so that James cried out. "Like dat?" he hissed. "Harder," James whimpered back at him. "Lor' have mercy on me. I gonna bugger ya into da groun'." And he tried. His hips slapped hard against the boy's, stinging like the harshest punishment and most generous of gifts. He plunged again and again into the tight young body, claiming it as his own. He'd been so worried about hurting James that he'd held back from showing him how much he needed to be inside him. No more. He took what he needed, and let the boy learn a bit about natural consequences. And it was the best experience they'd had yet, the strongest of Mud's whole life and the one against which James would measure everything. It was exquisite pleasure, and carnal heat. It was power, strength, and emotions that burned them, melting them so that their bodies melded into one form. When Mud reached his climax, his eyes were flowing with tears he could not explain, and his hips continued to thrust, unwilling to end their moment. He panted against James' neck, biting and kissing him in gratitude. The wet from his eyes and mouth soothed the burn that his teeth and whiskers left on the tender flesh. "I loves ya. God help me, boy. I loves ya." And still he plunged into the depths of James with his softening member, afraid to end; afraid he might never feel so much again. "Please don't stop," James whispered fervently. "I cain't keep..." "Please, Mud. Please don't stop..." Mud fucked him until the sensitivity was driving him crazy and he had to cease. "I'm sorry," he muttered. James swallowed the apology with his hungry mouth, devouring the man's lips and tongue. And when Mud's organ fell free from his body, he knelt and kissed the tip reverently. They were outside the bounds of all normal rules and decency. In this sweaty barn of sweet hay and sour mule, they made their own rules. James lips caressed Mud's balls and sucked them gently. "I dunno what yer doin' ta me, but I's gettin' so I cain't think a nothin' but ya..." Mud whispered hoarsely. "Smooth an' gentle. Suck dem gently now." James' diligence was rewarded with a second coupling; one that lasted longer and moved slower than the first. Where they had earlier been just frenetic need and pain, they were now slow comfort and tender pleasure. When Mud finally released deep inside James, he already had two more of the boy's ejaculations coating his rippled stomach. "It hardly seems fair I always get two for every one of yours," James laughed quietly, nuzzling into Mud's neck. Mud's voice was solemn. "I wish ya always ta have more. If it was up ta me, ya'd be many times happier dan I ever been... an' I ain't ever been happier dan now." James' sigh against his sweaty skin was like a cooling breeze, and it made Mud yearn for the wind on his bare flesh. Mud felt an itch inside him to give James something to remember this night, not realizing that he'd just finished giving that exact thing. "I wanna show ya somethin'." "What? Now?" "Yes. Gotta hurry or we miss it. C'mon." He roused them out of the hay and blanket and into their clothes and shoes. James took the lead out of the barn to ensure the way was clear, and then whistled softly for Mud, who came quickly to him in the dark. "Is I well-trained?" the big man whispered wickedly, and licked quickly behind James' ear, eliciting a bright giggle that James tried to turn into a manlier chuckle. The attempt made Mud's chest seize, and he nuzzled again behind the boy's ear, planting a gentle kiss. "Where are we going?" James asked, nervous for Mud to be in the open. "C'mon." The man grabbed his hand and led him toward the town, but they stayed off the road in the fields, along the edge of the cotton where they could not be seen in the dark. As was common for this time of night, a ground mist curled around their feet, moisture stolen from the river but then squeezed from the thieving air so that it coalesced into an eerie fog that hugged the ground. James' fear that Mud was leading them into town dropped away forgotten, as a green-yellow light began to brighten the area around them. "What is that?" he whispered, intrigued. He'd never seen anything light up the night like that except a fire. But he'd never seen an emerald flame. Mud's smile was shy, and that did more to elevate James' curiosity. The man stopped, and took the boy's other small hand, too, so that they faced each other. The expression on his dark face looked like a grimace to James. "I ain't so good wid words. I cain't give ya anythin' at all to show ya how I feel. I gots only da things I like, an' I like dis one da best. I seen it da other night an' it's almost as purdy as ya. So I want ya ta see it." His expression was so earnest that it made James realize the sincerity embedded within the words. All he could think in that moment was of the delicate willow sculptures he hoarded under the bed in the room he did not use. There was a train, mule, star, church, fish, snake, bathtub and barn. Each represented something to him, a symbolic timeline since he'd arrived in Mississippi. And then he thought of Mud moving inside him, leaving the fluids of his own body deep inside James'. "You've already given me the best gifts I've ever received," he managed to say, with the unique conviction of a fourteen year-old. Mud smiled, understanding. He'd been fourteen once, but it was a misery ago. Then he shook his head fondly. "Ya might think dis one is stupid. I jus'... I jus'... It's rare an' beautiful." He cupped James' face to complete the circuit of that thought, and then turned them back toward the eerie green glow emanating from the open field of the Hanging Tree. James' trepidation had grown in the increasing glimmer of the malignant light. It was as if a cauldron had seeped over its rim, spilling a bubbling fog upon the ground and an eerie verdigris pestilence across the landscape. The color came from no natural fire that James had ever seen; and the Hanging Tree crouched as a dark shadow against that gleam, its twisted limbs reaching through the murkiness as if blindly trying to find them. Mud walked beside him in the dark, unconcerned and grinning happily, even humming a bar or two of a spiritual with which James was unfamiliar. The gangrenous glow seemed to not worry him; not even a little. James did not like Mud to be anywhere near that tree. His young heart was accelerating and just before they broke into the open field where it hunched in ambush, he dug in his heels, stopping them. "Mud? I don't think..." "Hush now, boy. We's here. I truly hopes ya like it." With that, Mud pulled him into the clearing, and James' world tilted. He stood with his mouth hanging open, unsure for a long time what he was seeing. Mud wasn't even watching the tree; he watched the green light shining in James' eyes, and he laughed happily at the wonder he saw reflected there. "I take it all back," the man whispered. "Dis ain't nearly as purdy as ya are." But he lied, James knew. There was nothing more magnificent than the scene before him. It was a confluence of natural phenomena that took on the appearance of the supernatural. The ground mist that had seethed around their ankles ascended within the open field, draping its soggy cloak across the clearing so that small droplets of water hung in the air like suspended rain. Dazzling frozen gemstones glistened all around them as if they'd entered a crystal cathedral. But it was the fireflies that provided the light. It was not hundreds, nor thousands, but rather millions of tiny fireflies wrapping the dark tree in a shroud of chartreuse, transforming it into a holy place that seemed to pulse rhythmically as the tiny lights flashed in cadence to an angelic song. Its grotesque, twisted limbs suddenly seemed graceful as they moved in arboreal dance. The fireflies' eerie green lights were caught in the suspended moisture of the air and then diffused and mirrored by thousands of droplets so that the glade glimmered with an otherworldly radiance. It seemed as if the two humans spied upon a celestial court dancing in a heavenly bower. It was a soundless choreography. The fog insulated the meadow against the outside world so that within this magical place the dancers could move to their silent tune. James clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle his cry of amazement, but his gasp could be heard against the rest of the mute night. Mud chuckled warmly and it sent shivers across James' skin, damp from the iridescent fog. The man draped his arm across his shoulders, sharing his body heat in the unexpected chill. "Oh, Mud," James managed to whisper. "It's wonderful." Mud agreed with a quiet hum and then sank into the grass, pulling James into his lap. He wrapped both his arms around the boy and continued to hum in his ear, rocking them as they watched the insects' ritual slowly darken over the next hour. Finally, only occasional flashes could be seen through the mist, and the dance was concluded. They rose and walked hand-in-hand back toward the Willett farm, sticking closely to the shadows along the line of cotton fields. "Why do they do that?" "Mamma used ta tell us dat it was how dey found each other in da dark. Dey're tryin' ta find a mate. Dey frantically flash and flash until one a dem flashes back." "You said I was your light in a dark world." The large hand squeezed James' in response. "Why do you think they'd choose that tree over all the others? I hate the Hanging Tree." "Da Firefly Tree? I think it's beautiful. Ya always has a choice twixt beauty an' ugliness, James. Choose what ya wanna see." * * * James woke abruptly the next morning, finding a willow-sculpture of the Firefly Tree next to him, and a strange, bearded man with a stern, assessing gaze standing beside the blanket-covered hay bed. Although the hair on the man's head was very dark, his mustache and beard were threaded with silver strands, bordering a mouth that was firm with displeasure. "You're James?" He asked in a challenging tone, daring the boy to deny it. "Yessir," James mumbled in confusion, wrestling himself into a sitting position and reaching for his shirt. "I'm Commander Willett, your uncle. You will sleep in the house from now on; you are neither an animal nor a nigger. When you've managed to put clothing on your body, you will meet me outside the barn. If I'm going to house an orphan, then he's going to work for the assistance he receives." * I appreciate hearing from people who are reading my stories. Shoot me an email and let me know what you think. Your feedback is the only way I know you're reading and whether or not it makes sense to continue. I have other stories, too. Look up Seth Kirkcauldy in the author's section. seth-kirkcauldy@sbcglobal.net