Redman Plantation Chapter 1
It was a hot day on the farm. Nothing out of the ordinary on Redman Plantation. The mid-morning sun beat down mercilessly on the pale, freckled skin of eighteen year-old Henry Redman. He dropped the last heavy bag of cement onto the pile and pulled himself upright. The sun caught his red hair and from a distance one would have thought the young man was on fire though his ice-blue eyes seemed to have the power to put out any blaze. He was truly a handsome young man with classic American good-looks save for his Irish-descended red hair. It was from his father's side of the family.
Henry had been born in New York. His mother was a blonde Southern gal who'd moved to the city to make her fortune far from the green fields and cool, tree-shaded vales of her childhood. She had met a charismatic and boisterous Irish man with whom she'd had every intention of settling down, however, he had other plans. When her beautiful blue-eyed babe had been born she flat-out refused to give him his sire's surname of O'Brien. Hence, Redman; which fit perfectly well with his firey head.
Nodding hello to one of the Mexican workers, Henry headed to the pipe just behind the equipment shed and doused his head under the cooling water, soaking his white shirt in the process. Not that he minded. In the heat of the Oklahoma summer, any cool feeling was welcomed with a long sigh of relief. Although he had been working on his grandparents' farm for just over six months, the rural environment was still new to him. In New York, yes there had been heat but there had also been a notable absence of bugs and hay dust.
Henry stared at himself in a small pool of water at his feet. As it stilled, his image became clearer. His face had gotten fuller. Not fatter - well, not too much - but definitely fuller. His body had increased in muscle mass as well. He chuckled to himself. It was no doubt thanks to grandma's good old country cooking and all the hard physical labor he had been putting in during the last six months. He recalled that when he had first arrived, he had been much slimmer; so much so his grandmother had almost screamed and asked whether his mother had been starving him.
"HENRY!" His grandfather's voice boomed across the yard and well into the green fields of corn. What did the old man want now? He was always on Henry's ass to do some chore or the other. Farm life wasn't easy.
"Yes, grandpa," Henry said as he jogged up to the back door of the main house; which he had called home since his arrival last winter. The farm had once been a plantation, so there was a main house which stood out among the other, smaller buldings surrounding it.
"You're getting faster," the old man complimented begrudgingly.
Micah Redman was a harsh man with a harsh face. Lines from years of toil in the sun and snow were etched on his reddened face. His nose was long like a typical old white man's nose, and his slightly crooked bifocals framed his sharp blue eyes. He had never been a small man but as he got down in age, his beer gut seemed to increase as the rest of him gradually withered.
"We've (and by we Micah meant I) just hired a new manager. We're going to help them move in today."
"Just one guy?"
"Boy, don't ask so many questions. Just follow. Damned city slick."
Yup. That was grandpa. Harsh old man but he had his good side too. Despite his being a task master, he was always there when Henry needed help or advice, unlike his Irish father who he had barely seen three or four times a year growing up in spite of the fact that they both lived in the same city.
Henry had learned not to ask too many questions. The workers had been preparing the old overseer's house for the last few weeks. Henry had figured there would be new arrivals. As they approached the house, a big blue pick-up roared up the drive and came to a halt in front of the refurbished structure. Henry was almost shocked to see the two occupants in the car were black. Not that he was a racist. Back in New York, he'd had many black friends and school-mates but after six months of living among whites and mestizos, he'd hardly seen a black person save for the occasional black woman he'd seen when he and grandma went into town to shop. Seeing the two black men hop out of the truck reminded him there was a world beyond the green country fields.
The pair seemed to be father and son. The older man was tall and muscular with very dark skin and a shiny bald head. The younger was shorter but only by a small measure. He was gorgeous with his rich, dark-brown chocolate complexion; which was in stark contrast to his crystal-brown, almost amber eyes. His blue tee shirt fit his torso like a glove, revealing every muscle along with his two pointed nipples. He was built strong, like a football player, and walked like one too.
"Morning, Mr. Redman. I'm Jonathan Nicholson, your new manager," the older man smiled, extending his hand. Micah smiled and shook hands firmly with the big man. "And this is my son, John."
John also smiled politely and shook hands with Micah. Then he turned to Henry as the grandfather introduced his grandson. Henry knew his face was flushed as he smiled as politely as he could and gripped the black youth's hand as firmly as he could so as not to betray any weakness. He'd always had an attraction to other young men but young black men in particular. He was trying his damndest to control the bulge growing in his work jeans as that handshake seemed to last an eternity.
"Well, Henry; let's help 'em get moved in," Grandpa said. There was a noticeable lack of items to be carried in. Certainly, the manager's house was already furnished but one would have thought there would be more.
"We travel light," John stated as Henry helped him lift his boxes upstairs to his new room, "We've always moved around a lot so it pays not to hang onto sentimentals."
"Fair enough, I guess," Henry shrugged, "So, like your new room?" he asked, trying to start a conversation. He didn't know why. John was probably straight anyway but he was the first guy Henry's own age that the red-head had met in six months. At least, he looked like he was Henry's age.
"It's aight, man. Better than the last place we were staying at," John grinned, "Bigger bed too." He flopped down on the comfy queen-sized mattress.
"It's new. Grandpa had the workers really spruce up this house for you guys," Henry noted.
"'Preciate that," John smiled, extending his fist. Henry instinctively dapped him.
"Woah! White boy who knows how to dap," John joked, his country accent strong, "You not from 'round here, are you?"
"No. I'm from New York. Living with gramps now."
"Cool, cool. So...you smoke?"
"Weed?"
"Hell nah. I don't do illegal. I meant these," John said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Damn! What Henry would not have done a few months ago for a cigarette. Smoking was one of a myriad of reasons his frustrated mother had sent him to her parents' farm to be straightened out.
"Nah...I shouldn't. Trying to quit."
"Ah, ok. I respect that." John placed the little box back into his pocket and leaned back on the bed. "What you do for fun 'round here?"
"Shit, like what? Work all day?" Henry exclaimed, venting some frustration for his grandfather's slave-driver ways. "Well there is driving the truck to town every once in a while, playing cards with the workers- Oh! There is an old swimming hole near the edge of the property where I go to be alone some days."
"Sweet! Skinny dipping all day!" John chimed.
"Skinny dipping? Seriously?!" Henry's expression ripe with disdain.
"Damn! You really ain't from 'round here," John shook his head, "Looks like I'm going to have to teach you a few things, Brooklyn boy."
"I'm from Manhattan-"
"Whatever. It'll take me and pops a while to get settled in but why don't we go to this lil' swimming hole later this afternoon and I'll show you how fun a naked swim can be," John leered.
Henry felt his semi-hard dick throb. He'd been trying so hard to control himself but he was quickly losing the battle as his erection rose up and up and up.
"Yeah, OK. Um-ah...See ya tomorrow then," Henry said, awkwardly shuffling to the door while trying not to look awkward in his desperate attempt to hide his near full erection.
"Um Hm," John replied in typical country drawl, lighting up a stick.
Henry and John drove along the dusty road in silence. They had just finished what would have been Henry's first skinny dipping experience and the white youth was overwhelmed by it all. He had seen John in all his glory. The memories still fresh in his mind as he guided his old red pick-up along the bumpy gravel road that led from the swimming hole to the more actively used portion of Redman Plantation property. He recalled the black youth's dark skin glistening with beads of water as he stood naked on the grassy shore where he'd lit up a cigarette. He'd thought John looked sexy, lazily blowing clouds of smoke as he let his chiseled body air-dry.
"You're drifting," John's voice broke through the haze of lustful memories.
"What? Oh- Shit!" Henry snapped, pulling back onto the road with a thump as the pick-up hopped over a large rock.
"The hell you thinking 'bout?!" John asked, more annoyed than alarmed at the mishap.
"Just...nothing, man. Some stupid thing."
"Can't be that stupid if you running off the damned road."
"I'm sorry. Don't concern yourself with it," Henry said as they continued to rattle along the track, billowing dust flowing past their faces through the open windows. By the time Henry pulled up just beside the house the lights were on, and the sky was a deep, dark ruby-red as the sun dipped below the horizon. Redman was a huge property, and they had been unable to drive at speeds past forty due to the extremely poor condition of the track.
"About time," John joked, "Your granpa needs to get that track paved, man."
"Yeah, I told him that about a thousand times," Henry chuckled.
"On another note, I know what's wrong with you." Henry held his breath, hoping beyond hope that John had not figured out his secret. His mind skipped straight to the worst case scenario: John would be homophobically pissed and go spill the beans to granpa Micah.
"Y-You do? You...you know?" Henry asked like a deer caught in headlights.
"Yeah...I do. 'Cause I got the same problem." Suddenly, John's hands were clutching both sides of Henry's face and his full dark lips were crushed against his. Henry's eyes bulged. His mind went blank but his body reacted on instinct as his lips parted when he felt John's probing tongue begging entry. He closed his eyes and accepted, leaning back into the seat as John straddled his waist. Slowly, the seat reclined. John was on top, ravaging Henry's mouth with his own while gyrating on the white youth's bulging crotch. Again by instinct, Henry clutched two fistfuls of the black youth's round buttocks and squeezed; sucking all the harder on John's tongue.
"Not there. Not yet," John whispered, a grin curling his lips. He guided Henry's hands to the stiff outline of his erection; straining against the denim of his jeans. Henry gasped slightly, feeling the thickness of it, then his mouth was smothered by John's once again. His kisses were urgent and he sucked hard on the red-head's tongue as he swiftly opened his jeans and let Henry feel his hardness in its full glory.
"You want that, don't you?" John rasped.
"Y-Yeah," Henry breathed, stroking the stiff ebony pole; feeling it pulse in his hand. He thumbed the head, slick with precum; eliciting a moan from John. The black youth scooted up along Henry's chest and pressed his dick to his pink lips.
"Suck," John ordered. Henry complied, taking the dark-purple head into his mouth. John's eyes rolled up in his head and he practically howled as Henry slurped along just half his length, paying special attention to the bulbous head. Henry moaned and grunted as John began to thrust back and forth; fucking the white boy's face. Henry's hands once again cupped the round black buttocks, however John did not resist as Henry squeezed firmly and kneaded the smooth flesh in his palms. In fact, it made John fuck Henry's face all the more vigorously; the head of his dick slipping into the red-head's throat. Henry gagged and John pulled back.
"Sorry, got a lil' carried away," he grinned, pumping more gently between Henry's lips. He reached back and felt Henry's erection eager to be freed from his pants. He popped his cock free of the pink lips and turned so they were in sixy-nine position. Quickly freeing the ivory pole he wrapped his full lips around it and went to work.
"Ahhhhhh gawd!" Henry moaned, his entire body tensing at the incredible sensation. He refocused and took John's cock back into his mouth and resumed sucking just as vigorously. Moaning and wet sucking sounds filled the cabin as John pumped his hips up and down; fucking Henry's mouth while Henry's hips jutted up to thrust his pole between the dark lips. Such pleasure rushed through his loins that Henry was scarcely able to refrain from cumming.
"I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna- urggggggggggghhhh!" Henry groaned, spurting hot seed into John's vaccuum of a mouth. Audible gulping filled the air as the black youth swallowed every drop of hot spooge then sucked the ivory pole clean before turning to straddle Henry's chest.
"Oooooooooh shit!" John gasped as he slid his erection back between Henry's willing lips. He looomed over the red-head, sliding his full length back and forth; making Henry gurked with each descent as his cock-head pressed into the white boy's throat. The sight of his deep-chocolate pole gliding back and forth between the pink lips and the hot, soft, wet massage of Henry's mouth was more than John could take.
"Here it comes!" he strained, "Arrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
He unleashed the flood of hot sperm down Henry's throat. The red-head did his best to swallow the heavy load; John's pulsing cock stuffing his face to capacity. He managed to gulp it all down then sucked the ebony pole clean. John cupped Henry's face in both hands and ravaged his lips with passionate kisses, which Henry returned with equal vigor.
"We better get inside 'fore they get suspicious," John suggested. Henry merely nodded consent, too overwhelmed to speak.