MISTLETOE FARM A cautionary tale
Chapter two: Toby and Venus
A full moon lit the landscape as two tired horses pulled a loaded wagon toward Mistletoe Farm. Over the last miles of dirt road, the wagon crossed perhaps a dozen smaller paths through the trees, and on some of these stood silent black people, passing to and fro among the neighboring farms. They took their hats off upon seeing the white man on the seat, and eyed with sharp appraisal the load of human cargo in the back. Eventually the wagon bumped and swayed up the drive to Mistletoe Farm and stopped in the yard. There was a murmur of yawning and stretching as the tired slaves in the back and on the front seat awoke. Simon Simmons pulled the reins to stop the horses, rose stiffly from the seat, and turned to address his new slaves.
"This is Mistletoe Farm, your new home. I am Simon Simmons, your new master. Simon Simmons," he repeated, and the six newly arrived blacks repeated the name to themselves under their breaths, to memorize it. "First things first: I will show you where you will live, then we must unpack the wagon and see to it and the horses. Wait here while I fetch lights."
Simon stepped to the verandah where he had already prepared lanterns and matches. He lit four lanterns, one of which remained on the verandah. The other three he carried down onto the lawn. The lanterns were handed out to the three females. "Follow me, all of you," he said as he led the way to the first slave cabin. "Aphrodite and Pompey, this will be yours. Go inside, there are more lanterns there and all the provisions you will need for the moment. Take but a few moments to arrange matters to your liking, then rejoin us by the wagon." The couple murmured their thanks, taking the lantern, and entered the cabin. As the rest of the group walked away they could hear soft exclamations of surprise from inside. To a couple recently homeless and in danger of being sold apart, the modest accommodations of the slave cabin must have seemed like a palace.
Leading the way to the next cabin, Simon handed a lantern to Thorn. "You and Rose will stay here," he said.
"By ourselves, massa?" the boy asked?
"Yes," replied their master. "There are two beds inside, including one large one. Arrange yourselves as you see fit, and then come back out to the wagon." The two youngsters nearly bounded into the cabin, pleased to be "playing grownup" with their very own house. Squeals of delight could be heard as they inspected the new, simple clothing, the foodstuffs, and other provisions.
A few more steps took them to the last of the three cabins. "Venus, you will stay here. Light a lantern inside and look about you, then return to the wagon." Toby looked questioningly at the white man and made as if to follow Venus into the cabin, while she stopped in the doorway, casting a hooded stare at Toby. "Tonight at least you will stay in the main house," said Simmons, and after a split second of hesitation Toby nodded and followed his master back to the cart. They coaxed the horses to pull the still- packed wagon into the barn, then Simmons bade Toby to unhitch and attend to the horses.
As Toby led the team away, the other five slaves arrived in the barn, holding up lanterns and looking in curiosity at this part of their new home. Simmons gave orders as to the disposition of the supplies. Some were to go to the slave cabins, and were hauled away with joy--certainly, the material lot of these people had turned out to be better than they had feared, better than it might have been. Some of the supplies were to go to the main house, or the separate kitchen, some were to remain in the barn or other outhouses. Many hands made light work, and soon all the purchases were in their proper places. Toby finished his work in feeding and currying the horses and he rejoined the group. The night had come on fully by now, the light of lanterns winked out of every slave cabin and from the verandah.
"Tomorrow there will be more work, but everyone should take their rest tonight. You will find your duties are not hard and that I am an easy master," said Simmons. "For now, there are provisions for cooking in each cabin. You must be dirty from the journey, you are welcome to bathe in the wash house as well. I will see you all in the morning."
The group murmured their thanks and bowed to Simmons. Some scurried off to their cabins. Pompey remained for an instant, regarding his master thoughtfully, then he also turned. Simmons nodded to Toby. "You will stay with me in the house at least for tonight, perhaps--perhaps for longer, we shall see. Your other duties," and here he nodded toward Venus's cabin, "will begin tomorrow."
"Yassuh!" said Toby with a wide grin on his face. After his journey, he would not mind what he imagined to be good slave quarters in the main house, and he could gather strength for his duties with Venus. "Come," said Simmons, "there is food in the house, let us eat and then wash up." He led the way back to the house, where he lit lanterns and fetched some of the remaining food from a cupboard. The two men washed their hands and faces in a basin, which Toby emptied out into the yard. Simon helped himself to some crackers, apples, and cheese, then bade his slave to do the same, and sat down at the dining room table. Toby hesitated. "You want me to serve you, massa?" he asked.
"No, just take food and sit," replied Simon. Still Toby hesitated, then helped himself to a full plate and made as if to withdraw to the verandah for his meal.
"No, sit here, just there," said Simon, pointing to a chair perpendicular to his own. Toby hesitated again.
"Massa, at the table with you? It ain't right," he whispered.
"Sit," said Simon. Toby did so, still hesitatingly, casting sidelong glances at the white man. But the sight and smell of the simple food overwhelmed him and he began to eat greedily. Halfway through the meal he finally became aware of it: Simon, munching slowly and deliberately, was looking intently, fixedly at the eighteen year old slave boy. Toby stopped in mid chew, casting swift sidelong glances at the white man. He did not dare to look at him directly.
"Can I do somethin' for you, massa? Anythin' wrong?" the youth asked.
Simon kept staring for an instant, then started as if awaking. And he really had been in another world: a world of deep, dark color, sinuous curves and muscle masses, full straining breasts and heavy, pendulant penises, full moist lips under generous, soft, broad noses. Sinking into his slave visually, he was taken back to the world he had become lost in on his parents' plantation, a world that took up so much of his thought and imagination. He swam quickly back up from the depths of dark brown thighs and buttocks, tight, crisp hair and curling lashes, and surfaced in the dimly lit dining room.
"No--no, nothing is the matter. Continue eating," he said. But for the rest of the meal, both master and slave continued to eye each other furtively, each occupied with his own thoughts.
The evening was full of the sounds of insects and night creatures as Simmons and Toby stepped out onto the verandah after eating. Lantern light disclosed Aphrodite and Venus standing outside of the wash house, talking. Each held a length of toweling in one hand and a new, simple dress in the other, taken from the spoils of their new dwellings and their accommodations. From the wash house emerged Rose, the glint of water in her dark curls visible in the lantern light, dressed in her own new clothing. She greeted the women, then hurried on her way to the cabin she shared with her brother. Venus slipped into the wash house to take her turn. A few yards away, Pompey and Thorn sat on the steps of the nearest cabin, waiting their own turns. Had Simon or Toby looked, they might have seen the whites of Pompey's eyes turn and hold steady in the direction of the verandah, studying and considering.
"We will sit here and wait our turns," said Simon, taking up a rocking chair. Toby murmured assent and sat on the top step, a little below his master. Simon took in the night air, watched the progress of his new slaves as they came and went through the wash house, and through it all intently studied the short, tight skullcap of dark kinky hair on Toby's head.
The women finished their washing and Pompey and Thorn went in--together, it seemed. Was the twenty year old slave taking the fourteen year old under his wing, or was it something else? The moon rose over the compound as Simon and Toby waited. And then a movement caught the white man's eye: there, just beyond the trees that lay at the edge of sight, the steady shifting of dark shapes. Staring intently, he suddenly realized they were people, and most likely black people. On the move, a small group of them in a procession behind the trees. No doubt a path lay there that connected the farms in the region, he thought, and these were slaves heading home or going off for a night's furlough from the labors. The group passed and then all was still. Thorn and Pompey emerged from the wash house in their own fresh, new clothing, beaming wide grins, and made off for their own cabins.
"Toby, go up the stairs and take out two towels from the linen closet on your right at the top of the stairs, then bring a lantern," Simon ordered. Toby ran into the house and took perhaps a minute longer than was necessary to return; Simon surmised that he had been stealing quick glances at the accommodations on the second floor. Toby followed Simon, carrying the towels and a lantern, to the wash house.
The tinned tub stood empty, a trickle of water coming out of the bung hole near the bottom. Simon plugged the hole again and ordered Toby to fill it half way with water from the nearby pump. It took but a moment, as the tub was not large. Simon began to undress.
"Can I help you, massa?" asked Toby. His master nodded agreement and began handing his clothing, dusty from the day's activity, to the slave. Off came boots, then outer garments, Toby carefully folding each item as it was handed to him. Simon kept his eyes on the slave's face as he removed each piece, watching him intently as he loosened and then removed his undergarment. Toby's head hung down, but Simon could see his eyes riveted on his own body: of average muscular build, about six feet tall, the development of an active, athletic gentleman but not a field worker, a small nest of blonde hair in the pyramid between his chest pads that trailed down to a soft bush of blonde-brown pubic hair. Simon saw, or thought he saw, or wanted to see, Toby's eyes linger on the ordinary sized pink and reddish penis hanging over two large testicles.
"Have you seen a white man naked before, Toby?" he asked.
The slave youth started, gulped and shook his head rapidly. "Nassuh, never. White boys when I was a boy an' we was swimmin' but no white men, massa."
Simon nodded, pleased with the information that he was a spectacle, a curiosity, perhaps even an attraction? to this black eighteen year old. He squatted in the tub and washed, while Toby stood by, a little behind him, and Simon felt sure that every inch of his own flesh was being scrutinized by the black teenager. Finished, he stood up and accepted the towel that Toby handed him. As he dried himself he instructed the slave to empty the tub and refill it for his own bath. It was quickly drained and then filled again, and Toby stood, uncertainly, by the side. Simon was drying off, very slowly, still.
"Go ahead, bathe," the white man instructed the slave. Toby nodded quickly, then shed his simple garments. His body was as graceful as it had seemed earlier that day when Simon had masturbated him at Bulstrode's market. Toby slid the S curve of his muscular body into the small tub and washed, the tip of his enormous penis floating back up to peek out of the water like a turtle surfacing. Still Simon dried himself, using the towel to hide his growing erection. Toby rose when he was finished and pulled the bung from the tub, then began to towel himself quickly.
"Massa, we ain't got no clean clothes. You wan' me go get you some?" he asked. It was a situation Simon had, of course, foreseen.
"No, we will wrap towels around ourselves and retire to the house. Leave our dirty clothes here, the women will wash them tomorrow." Toby nodded agreement and wrapped the towel around his waist, his ponderous organ creating a ridge in front. The two men walked out onto the lush grass, barefoot, stopping only at the outdoor privy to relieve themselves, first Simon and then Toby. Entering the house, they extinguished all the lanterns but one and then went upstairs, towels still their only coverings.
At the top of the stairs Simon turned left into his room. Toby hesitated on the landing. "Massa, where my room? You wants me to sleep on the floor?"
"No," said Simon, "not on the floor. You must get a good rest for your duties tomorrow." Here he smiled at Toby, who caught his meaning and grinned back hugely, thoughts of the luscious Venus in his head. Simon continued: "But we have had no chance to prepare a pallet for you, for the floor. Sleep in my bed, it is commodious enough."
Again, Toby's eyes grew wide. "Naw, massa, it ain't right, to sleep in your bed."
"It will be alright, Toby. After tonight...... well, we shall see." Simon moved farther into the room, setting the lamp on a bedside table. Toby stepped hesitantly in, surveying the modest but comfortable room with the sturdy double bed. Simon walked to a window and pulled the curtains aside so as to look out onto the yard. The cabins now were dark, although he thought he could hear faint sounds coming from one of them. And there--once more, behind that line of trees, illuminated by a bright moon, moved two or three dark shapes. There must be a path there, he would have to investigate tomorrow. He turned from the window and moved toward the bed, pulling off his towel as he reached it and hanging it over the back of a nearby chair.
"Let us retire, Toby."
"But...massa, you don't wants me naked in the bed by you, does you?"
"Yes, of course," said Simon, who opened a chest and brought out a set of simple, clean clothes which he had placed there strategically, anticipating this moment even before he left for Roanoke. "Tomorrow you may dress in these," he said. Then Simon slipped under the top sheet himself and then, turning to the lamp, extinguished it. Moonlight replaced lamplight with a silver wash. "To bed, Toby," Simon said.
Toby hesitated a moment more, then removed his own towel and put it across the back of a chair. His dark form seemed like a distillation of the night as it moved through the moonlight, the pale sheen of his skin catching the gleams from the window. He slipped under the sheet and lay there quite still, but also quite close to his master, as the bed was large but not overly large for two grown male bodies.
The two lay on their backs side by side for a few moments. Then, Simon shifted onto his side to face Toby, as if settling in place for the night. The unaccustomed closeness of the white male body excited Toby with its newness, but he was fearful of what would happen and quite uncertain of how he should behave. He had certainly experienced physical intimacy with other boys while growing up, but as he had said, this closeness to a white man was totally new to him. And yet---he hardly knew what he hoped, or dared to think might happen. His hand, lying at his side next to his master, must have been very close to the white man's penis.....
Casually, as if it were the most natural thing to do, Simon flung an arm across Toby's torso. Toby caught his breath and turned his head slightly, risking a glance at his master. Slowly, almost randomly at first, Simon began to glide his hand over the smooth, hairless dark skin. Small circles around the muscular pads of Toby's chest, then more intentionally circling the nipples, slow rolling of their tender tissue and gentle pinches as the tissue began to swell. Then slow spirals down onto the muscled belly, down farther, skirting the small dense patch of pubic hair. Simon could see in the moonlight that the sheet over the slave's large penis was beginning to rise. Toby gulped and lay very still. As the white man's fingers began running through his pubic hair, pressing against the top of his penis, he caught his breath, and then he could stand the uncertainty no longer. Toby whispered urgently, "Massa! What you want me to do?"
By way of answer, Simon threw back the sheets. Unbound, Toby's noble organ sprung up, but was too large to stick completely straight up in the air. Simon grasped it, causing his black teenage slave to gasp and moan slightly. Simon gently laid it back up along the youth's torso, where it reached almost to his chest. And then in one smooth motion, the white man rolled over on top of the black boy. His own penis, now slick with precum, found a natural cavern between the black's muscular thighs, just beneath his testicles, and the white man's rod slid down between the boy's legs. Simon himself slid downward even farther in a sense. He slid down into black and dark brown, down into the world of ownership of dark bodies. His hands slid over dense, crinkly hair while his lips and tongue nuzzled full, rolled, moist lips. Simon's hands cupped the ripe fruit of shoulder muscles and reached down and beneath to squeeze the globes of firm, rounded buttocks. Toby, utterly unsure of what to do that would not offend his master, unsure of what he himself wanted, at first lay helpless. Then, giving in to the moment, he began to caress the white man's back, daring to squeeze the white rump as it moved up and down, in and out, as the master fucked him between his thighs. Toby ran his fingers through the soft cornsilk hair of the white man who covered him. Faster and harder Simon pumped in and out, in and out, until with a mighty shove he came, thrusting downward, gasping, draining semen down onto the sheets and into the lower part of the boy's ass crack. Simon shivered and clenched Toby's shoulders tightly, pumped and squeezed, and then it was done. He slumped, and in his ecstasy and the exhaustion of the day, fell asleep almost immediately. Toby lay beneath him, his own penis painfully erect beneath the master's body, not sure of what to do. As the white man's breathing became heavier, Toby risked a slight turn, which caused the master's body to roll off and onto his back, his penis coming out from between the dark chocolate thighs with a slurping noise. Still Simon slept. Toby lay for a few minutes more, his erection demanding attention but yet he was unwilling to do anything that might bring censure from the master. Soon, his own tiredness overwhelmed him and he slept, side by side with the white man who had just taken pleasure with him.
Simon awoke in the morning light, memories of the previous day flooding back to him, of a piece with his dreams of dark and sensuous bodies. He sat up in bed and looked to his side. Toby was not there, a crusty patch of semen on the sheets the only visible sign that he had spent the night. Simon rose, still naked, and walked to the window to look out. Smoke from cooking fires curled lazily from the chimneys of each of the slave cabins. Looking to the wash house, he saw Toby standing just outside in his new clothing; evidently he had bathed this morning and donned his new finery. And Toby was talking to Venus, whose foot was on the threshhold of the wash house, evidently just going in. Simon could only hear a lilt of voices from where he stood, but it was clear from stance and gesture that Toby and Venus were playing out the age old game of pursuit and evasion--and capture. No doubt Toby had emphasized what was likely clear to her in the slave market, that he was to become her sexual partner. Well, it seemed to Simon as if she were not positively repulsed by the idea, for at least she continued her bantering with the young male for a few minutes before disappearing into the wash house.
Sponging himself at a basin filled with water, Simon walked downstairs to find that Toby had returned to the house and prepared another simple meal. "Mornin', massa," he said, his head down and eyes averted. What had passed between them the night before hung in the air like a question.
"Good morning, Toby," said Simon, who then walked up to his slave and put a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing it lightly. Toby grinned, assured that he was still in good graces with his master--and was he anticipating more of the same intimacies? He served his master breakfast and was once again asked to sit at the table to eat his own. The slave did so, more easily now than he had the previous evening.
Halfway through the meal, Simon broke the silence. "Toby," he said, "would you like to be my house servant? To attend to matters inside? The women can help with the cooking and laundering, of course. And of course, you would still work with the horses and so forth outside."
Toby's heart leapt. Not so much from a love of indoor work, as from the realization that every slave held of the privilege that came with being a house servant. Usually, extremely dark slaves such as Toby would not have been considered for such work, but his was not to wonder why. He enthusiastically replied, "Yes, massa," and then a thought occurred to him: "But, massa--Venus?"
"Her cabin is not far away," said Simon. "You can spend the nights there and return here in the morning, or spend the nights here and visit her during the day, as you wish. There is more new clothing for you in her cabin, as I am sure she has discovered by now."
Toby grinned and hung his head bashfully. "Yes, massa, she has. I done heard about it! Yes, massa, I be your house servant, thank you massa."
Simon nodded agreement, then bade Toby clear up the table and join him outside. In the morning sunlight, Simon called his new slaves together. They all looked rested from the night, a little more relaxed given their good physical accommodations in the cabins, but still a little wary as they gathered to learn their new tasks. Simon organized them according to their talents and strengths. The females were assigned to wash clothing and linens and to set up the outdoor kitchen for cooking food for the main house and for the slaves. The males were assigned to plant what kitchen crops might be planted yet in mid-summer in the newly cleared fields, and to prepare the barn and enclosures for the livestock that would arrive today.
Everyone began their tasks willingly, and Simon walked to and fro, here and there, directing and encouraging everybody. The pleasant smells of bread rising and preserved meats cooking wafted through the air from the kitchen. In late morning the creak of wagons could be heard coming up the drive, and soon the shipments of livestock and other supplies in large wagons from Roanoke could be seen coming up the way. All other work stopped as attention was paid to herding the new acquisitions into their appointed homes, while Simon tipped the drivers and wrote out standing orders for provisions to be delivered once a week. The drivers were given food and drink as well, and left in a jolly mood. The homely sounds of grunting and clucking could now be heard, and the place seemed more like the working farm that it was destined to be. After a brief break for a midday meal, work resumed.
The women joined the men in tending the small fields and planting new crops in the afternoon, their domestic arrangements complete. Toby made sure he worked near Venus, and a playful if guarded banter continued between them. As Simon stood between the orchard and the vegetable plots, he was aware of another small group of people moving in a line behind a wall of trees along another edge of the field. He called to Pompey and bade him run over to the group to find out who they were. Pompey quickly obeyed and caught up with them. After speaking with them for a moment, he ran back to his master.
"They is from White Springs, massa, about four miles yonder," he said. "They says they takes this path sometimes." Simon nodded. So it was true; Mistletoe Farm contained several paths used by the slaves of neighboring farms, a semi-secret network of connections keeping friends and family in touch with one another. He was sure this was true on the neighboring properties as well.
The afternoon turned into evening. The livestock were attended to, new rhythms of work being established and new responsibilities assigned to each slave. Everyone stopped for a simple evening meal, and then dispersed to rest. One by one, everybody, including Simon (attended by Toby), repaired to the wash house to clean off the soil of the day's work. Evening shadows lengthened as the slaves retired to their cabins, and Toby and Simon sat on the verandah.
Toby seemed increasingly restless. He shifted his gaze between his master in a rocking chair and the cabin where Venus's lantern shed a solitary gleam into the night. Simon was aware of it, but was biding his time. Finally, he spoke: "Toby, are you ready to visit Venus?" Toby leapt to his feet, giving a heartfelt assurance. Simon rose, leaving a lantern on the porch, and walked down the steps toward the cabin, beckoning his slave to follow.
"You comin' too, massa?" asked Toby. Simon merely nodded. At the cabin door, Simon knocked, then opened the door without waiting for permission. Venus had been sitting at the rough wooden table, sewing. She stood up, a guarded look on her face.
"Venus, you know Toby," Simon said. She nodded and whispered, "Yes, massa."
"You are to take him as your man for a while. I want the two of you to breed, bring up some strong children. Do you understand?" Venus stared hard at Toby, then gave a swift glance at her master and cast her eyes down. It was clear that her emotions were mixed. Toby was not unwelcome, but the nature of her situation was. After a moment she nodded and whispered, "Yes, massa."
"Very well," said Simon. He gestured toward the bed, wide enough for two, that stood in the corner. "Remove your clothing and lie there," he ordered. Turning to Toby he likewise commanded, "Remove your clothing." Both slaves began to comply, then paused and looked at the white man.
"Massa," said Toby, "you wants us to wait 'till you go?"
"I'm not going," he replied, "I want to make sure the deed is done well. I am staying." And with that he pulled up a chair to the side of the bed and sat, arms crossed. Venus and Toby looked at each other for a moment, then with a sense of resignation--and perhaps of interest?--continued undressing. Both were naked, and Toby's large penis was beginning to fill and rise in anticipation. Venus cast a doubtful eye on it, then walked to the bed and lay down on it, waiting.
Toby crossed to the bed and lay down beside her, on the side where Simon sat. He reach out his nearly black fingers and tentatively caressed the dark chocolate breasts, full and long like papayas. Venus gasped, then sighed. As the black youth's massaging and tweaking became more assertive she turned a little on her side toward him and began rubbing her hands over his smooth, muscled chest. With little shifts they drew closer, hands now gliding over sides and down thighs. Palms cupped heads, running over short, crisp kinks or through tight, dark curls. Full lips met full lips, and passion began to overcome whatever hesitancy Venus had felt. Their breathing became heavier, and small gasps and moans kept up a murmur of passion. Simon could see from where he sat that Toby's penis was now fully erect, ponderously large and craning out to rub against the dark chocolate skin of the slave girl's thighs. Simon began to rub his own straining cock through the cloth of his trousers, which were being pushed out in front. He could not tear his eyes away from the scene being played out in front of him, losing himself in the moving dark limbs and torsos that were now rolling and wrestling, lantern light shining on the soft sheen of sweat that was gathering on their skins.
Toby shifted positions now to lie on top of Venus. His large penis lay between them like a flagpole, and he slid up and down on her warm, dark belly, his organ squeezing out a little precum between her breasts. Then he drew back on his haunches between her legs. He parted them and placed the large meaty head of his purple black organ against her wet vagina. He gave a tentative push, and Venus cried out in protest and put her hands against his thigh and chest. Toby rocked back on his haunches again and slowly slid the leaking head of his mammoth cock up and down in the entrance to her vagina, lubricating it with the flow of precum, then pushed again. It was no better. Venus cried out again, "It's too big!" she exclaimed. Once more Toby tried lubricating the vagina entrance with his own juices, Venus shivering as the fleshy cockhead rubbed her clitoris, but the difficulty remained. At this point Simon stood up slowly, as if moving in a dream.
"She is still a little nervous, and needs to relax enough to receive you," he said. "She needs to be prepared." Toby was shivering with pent up desire and rocked back again on his haunches. "What we gonna do, mass?" he asked, breathlessly. By answer, Simon quickly tore off his own clothing, casting them on the floor around him, never removing his gaze from the dark bodies on the bed. "She needs to be---opened up, stretched gradually. I will do it," he said. Venus turned her head quickly to look at her naked master with wide eyes, realizing what was about to happen. She herself was so caught up in the moment, so given over to her own sexual passions, that she did not offer the resistance she might have had Simmons simply approached her directly and on her own. Simon took a step toward the bed.
"Lie on that side," he told Toby, and the black youth flopped over onto the far side of the bed, his glistening rod slapping against Venus's torso. Simon slipped onto the bed on his hands and knees and, bending over Venus, began to rub his white fingers over her body as Toby had done but moments before, hefting and massaging her full breasts and rubbing her rounded belly. Toby stared intently, first at the woman's body and then at the white man's. Venus gasped and sighed again and, after a minute, reached out to caress her master's pink and red penis, now rock hard and leaking precum. Simon moaned and allowed her ministrations for a moment, then slipped back to take up position between her legs himself. Placing his slick cockhead against her vagina he pushed slowly. He was not nearly Toby's size, and Venus had relaxed a little from the black man's earlier attempts. Simon entered her easily in one long push. Venus arched her back and cried out, not in pain so much as surprise and pleasure. Her heavy breasts wagged as she writhed in passion, and then they were pressed down as Simon lowered himself onto her. He clutched her muscular shoulders to pull himself into her, and began pumping back and forth, back and forth. His eyes open, he looked deep in the eyes of the black woman beneath him, nuzzled her fill lips with his, buried his face in her cap of dark curls, his hips pistoning faster and faster.
Toby lay close enough to touch both the white man and the black woman, his lips parted as he studied their every move. His penis strained up against both bodies, now slapping against Venus's chocolate flesh, now against the white and tan flank of the master as he pumped faster and harder into the slave girl. With his hands he caressed the black girl where she was not covered by white flesh, and he dared to put his hand on his master's buttocks, feeling them clench and relax rhythmically. The three held this position, then Simon gasped, swallowed hard, and cried out, pushing his penis hard into the black body beneath him, hands pulling himself down into her dark flesh. Venus wrapped her arms around his broad, white back and pulled her master down into herself. His cornsilk hair fell down over her face. Shivering and gasping, Simon held that position as his semen flow slowed to a trickle. Then he grew still, and finally pulled out of Venus with a plop and rolled off to lie beside her on the bed.
"Now," he said to Toby, who needed no more encouragement in his growing passion. Flipping over quickly to lie between the slave girl's legs, he positioned his engorged penis at the head of her vagina, which was already leaking the white man's semen, and pushed. It entered now, in a long but slow slide. Venus arched her back and cried out, this time with some discomfort. Toby paused, then resumed pushing, and she cried out again. But his passage was lubricated by the load of the master's semen that lined the slave girl's vagina, and before long he was fully landed inside of her. Slowly he began pumping back and forth, holding himself up off of her body with extended arms, looking down at her writhing flesh. Discomfort gave way to ecstasy as Venus moaned and thrashed, her entire body cavity feeling as if it were filled with the black boy's enormous penis.
Simon stared at the struggling dark chocolate bodies from inches away. Leaning in, he licked biceps and shoulders, gently bit ears, tasting the sweat that was pouring off the dark flesh. As Toby's rhythmic pumping increased in speed, Simon held his open palm above the firm balloon butt of the black man and slapped it as it rose on every upstroke. Then he reached his hand in between the two to caress Venus's breast. Soon she reached her own ecstasy, stimulated by the white and now the black man beyond endurance, and she cried out, her fingers scratching and tearing at the muscular shoulders and chest pads of the black youth who arched above him. The tightening of her vagina in her orgasm brought him over the edge as well. He bucked twice and slammed forward, groaning, his eyes shut tight, squirting out his load of semen into the slave girl to join the white man's spunk that was already there. Pushing and gasping, he held the position until his crisis past. Then, exhausted, he slumped down and onto the slave girl, his penis still firmly anchored within her. Simon threw his arm over the black youth's heaving back and pulled himself into their embrace.
The three slept like that for perhaps an hour. Simon awoke with a sense of being in a strange place. His two slaves still slept, Toby still on top of the girl, anchored by his huge organ that was still inside of her. Quietly, Simon slipped out of bed and dressed, the two on the bed not waking. The white man extinguished the lamp and then slipped out the door into the night. He made his way back to his cabin, and as he walked up the verandah steps he turned back to survey the scene. There on the porch to the first slave cabin sat Pompey, eyeing him speculatively. He was not alone. By him sat another figure, dark, but unfamiliar to Simon. The white man stopped in his tracks. Seeing they were observed, the new figure quickly rose and slipped away--in the direction of the paths that led across the property. Pompey watched him go, looked at his master once more, nodded imperceptibly, then rose and went into his own cabin. Pondering this event but deciding it was no more than neighborly socializing, Simon went into the house, upstairs, and collapsed onto his own bed. He wandered all night in a fantasy world of African bodies.
to be continued.....
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