This story contains graphic but completely fictional depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage boys and/or girls, and even nekkid women show up now and then. If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.
Seaward Plantation
War clouds chapter two
Appleby blinked his eyes open in the morning light, a little disoriented. Pushing up on one elbow, the room with the frilly decorations and floral wallpaper was clearly not his- -then it all came back to him in a pleasurable flood. This was Aunt Lucy's old room and he had spent the night here with Priam. It was his first night in that bed, although not Priam's! Appleby looked around the chamber and then saw the note on the bedside stand:
"Got up early to go to work. The Old Man. P.S.: thanks."
Appleby grinned; it was a moot point whether Priam was "old" or not. His body and its virility certainly left nothing to be desired, as he was reminded last night. Appleby swung his legs out to sit naked on the edge of the bed, yawning and stretching. From far away downstairs he could hear the sound of high voices and splashing: bath time had begun.
One of the projects currently underway was construction of a separate bath building nearer to the cabins. The most recently completed project had been a cabin for Helen and her children. For years, the black people of Seaward had bathed in the sea, or in one of the three small streams that snaked down from springs on the island, or on very cold days from basins in their cabins. Since Appleby's arrival, he had opened up the bath room of the main house (along with everything else) to the whole community. Increasingly, the sturdy old clawfoot tub, pump, and stove in the bathroom were put to hard work by those wanting to use those amenities. It was time to build another, and in fact Appleby was planning to work on that project that very morning.
Appleby sat in a pleasant morning fog, planning his day's activities, when the door to his room--which stood ajar-- opened a bit more. A chocolate face peeked around the corner. Then Hector stepped in and over to the bed quickly, throwing himself down with a bounce on the bed close by Appleby. He was stark naked, his deep chocolate skin and tight, kinky cap of black hair glistening with pearls of water. Evidently, Hector had escaped from the tub just ahead of a swarm of grimy children and their mothers. His face broke into a huge smile as he reached a meaty brown paw around Appleby's far shoulder and hugged him tight.
"'Morning, master!" he exclained. Looking around, he asked, "How do you come to be in here, master? Wasn't this Miss Lucy's old room?"
"Yes, it was," replied Appleby, smiling back and snaking his own arm around Hector's lower back to cup the outside of his hip and thigh with a hand. "Priam was showing it to me last night and telling me of some of his... some of his experiences from long ago. We-- I just stayed in here." Hector's look of puzzled confusion gave way with a crack to a look of surprise and then to a look of sheer happiness as he rejoiced that anybody--and especially two people whom he loved more than most--had found love and passion. A giggle escaped his throat that belied his beefy physique. Hector wrapped his other arm around Appleby as well and squeezed him tight, kissing him on the cheek.
Appleby squeezed back. His long relationship with Troy was one of man to man, a powerful love between two strong males who borrowed strength from each other--although he suspected he borrowed more from Troy than the other way around. But Appleby had loved the man inside of the boy Hector eleven years ago, and now he loved the boy who was still there inside the man. The white and the black man sat nearly touching noses, smiling into each other's eyes, a stirring in each groin, when they were distracted by shrieking from the end of the hallway--a rain of pattering feet that stopped first at this door and then at that--and then the explosion of two wet, naked, milk chocolate eight year old boys into the room.
"Frederick!" cried Appleby, and "Douglass!" said Hector. Giggling with glee, the two boys squirmed up onto the laps of the two "Papas" who were sitting on the edge of the bed.
"We had a bath!" said Frederick, sinking sideways into Hector's lap, his arms entwined around the man's thick brown neck. "Me, too!" said Douglass, straddling Appleby's lap face to face, both hands on the white man's shoulders.
"Good, I expect you needed it," said Appleby, smiling, as Hector nodded agreement with "Uh-huh!" Men and boys settled happily, smiling at each other, the boys in a constant wiggle. Then--it was as natural as could be--Douglass peered down at Appleby's incipient reddish erection. "Whoa!" he said softly, then reached down and encircled it-- encircled most of it--with his slim brown hand, hauling it up a inch or two for inspection, brushing his own little ballsack and thin brown penis as he did so.. Frederick looked down at it with interest, then squirmed around to fetch out Hector's rising organ from beneath him, milk chocolate hand grasping the purple black shaft. "Here, too, Frederick!" he said, in a tone implying nothing more than the discovery of a strange new organism from the bottom of the sea.
For a few long moments the boys handled each man's penis, and each penis responded. Giggling, each twin ran his shaft up and down an organ, then reached over to trade, grasping the one next to him. Appleby and Hector both leaned back on their elbows, their breathing increasing, simply accepting each boy's interest and attention for the gift that it was. It ended abruptly. Helen's voice could be heard from the foot of the stairs calling for her sons in exasperation. The two brown boys giggled, kissed Appleby and Hector quickly on the lips, then leaped off of their laps and, slim brown penises and tiny ballsacks wagging, ran back down the hall to their mother.
Appleby and Hector remained where they were, but each heaved a deep sigh, which likewise brought a chuckle from each of them. "Master, boys sure are different from when I was a boy. Remember, I was kinda shy?" said Hector. Seeing his master's rigid, red and pink penis wagging stiff and upright, he reached over and grasped it with his large brown hand to continue the process the boys had started--a process of exploration, of sexual excitement, and of love. "Yes, you're right, Hector," said Appleby, "but imagine how different this is from the upbringing I had as a boy in straight-laced Boston!" Turning a little toward Hector, he grasped his friend's large, purple black penis with his own tanned hand and likewise began pumping it. Precum was leaking out of the end of the thick shaft, as it was with his own, and he slid his fingers around the hooded head of the black man's dick as his fingers slid up.
"You think it's good, master, how these kids on Seaward do?" asked Hector, a little breathlessly as waves of pleasure flowed from his dick, which Appleby was pumping and bending. "Yes--- yes," replied Appleby, lips parted, his eyes glued on the two hands that now slid up and down one rigid black cock and one rigid white one. "It's really--oh God, Hector, that feels good!--it's really not just sex for these kids, it's --ah!--exploring and learning and giving--oh!"
Hector chuckled despite the mounting sexual stimulation in his loins. "I remember--oh, yeah, master!--I remember I had just come inside Portia once--oh, yeah!--and I was lying there on top of her, my eyes closed--yeah!--and I felt something on the bed--oh, do that!--and it was Wat, he'd just climbed up to see, natural as could be." By now Hector's hips were pumping up and down just a little, the defined hillocks of muscle on his belly flexing. The two men were still propped up on elbows on the bed, their hands moving faster and faster.
"Oh, I know--ah, Hector that feels so good!--once Troy and I had been together and he was lying on his belly, I was on top--oh, yeah! oh, soon!--I was still inside of him, lying on his back, you know, and I looked up, and--oh! oh!--there stood Apple and Marcus, just standing in the doorway, watching; not embarrassed or--OH! OH! AH!" Appleby arched his back and pushed up his hips and sperm erupted from his penis, spraying over Hector's chest and belly and running down his brown hand as it slowed and finally stopped. A moment later, Hector gave one deep grunt down in his chest and did the same, splashing ropes and sprays of white semen all over Appleby as the white hand milked his black shaft of every drop.
Both men chuckled in sheer joy, and turned to kiss each other. They wore drops of cum like pearl necklaces on their chests and bellies--it seemed to glow especially white on Hector's dark skin. "You know, Master Mark," said Hector, "I like it in my mouth and in my butt, and I like to put it in somebody else wherever they want it, but," and he rubbed a line of white semen on Appleby's chest, "sometimes I just like to look at it and play with it."
Appleby nodded his agreement, smiling. The two sat like that happily a while longer, then kissed once more and rose. Hector cleaned himself in the basin in the room while Appleby walked naked down the hallway to the bath room, which was mercifully unoccupied at the moment, to bathe.
Dressed and ready for the day, munching a roll as he headed for his destination, Appleby mused about the morning's delights. He had changed so much himself since coming to Seaward, having learned with difficulty (all of it self- imposed) to let go of ideas of possessiveness and control over others--in matters sexual, racial, legal, and emotional. It seemed as if extending those freedoms to the children of Seaward raised in him a new round of hesitations and fears. This new generation was often naked, often cuddling, often caressing, often exploring--as the most natural thing in the world. Appleby knew he was going to have to "let a little child lead him" in shedding the last of his compunctions in that regard.
He was heading toward the site of the new bath room, wearing his oldest and grubbiest clothing. The morning was brightened by the salutes and waves he received from his friends emerging into the morning light, going about their business--from the children who seemed to be double their number, so much did they swarm around--from the women sweeping off their porches and hanging up laundry. The men of the island were digging a narrow well that would be capped after a pump was inserted, then the bath room would be built around that. This order of events was intentional since one was never entirely sure where a well would succeed. Seaward was already blessed with springs that generated three small streams at various sites around the island, so it seemed as if a well would not need to go very far down before striking water. Nevertheless, it was hard, dirty work.
Arriving at the sight, he could barely make out the black, loose curls on the top of Cassius's head. The shirtless mulatto was six feet deep and more in the shaft. He appeared to be filling buckets that Pan and Bacchus were hauling out by a rope, the muscles flexing on their lithe, shirtless torsos as they pulled and strained. Although February, the sun was shining and hard work was giving the men a good sweat.
"Water, Master Mark!" exclaimed Bacchus, and by way of evidence he dumped out a bucketful of slushy, rocky mud into the nearby donkey cart. Appleby congratulated them. It appeared as if water had been struck, and now the well only needed to be deepened. He hailed Cassius down the hole and bade him come out, offering to take his place. Winded, Cassius agreed; willing hands soon had him out of the hole. Down went Appleby, now also shirtless, to land ankle deep in muddy water. Standing still and looking down, the water appeared to be welling up slightly; they had struck a deep spring, releasing the waters. Applying his shovel with a good will, Appleby began the process of digging down into the source to guarantee that it would flow freely.
The work continued, aided by the arrival of Bundit. Troy, Hector, and Priam had their own duties elsewhere that morning. Soon Marcus hung his bush of wild curls over the opening to greet Appleby and to offer his help. Appleby thanked him and asked him to help by hauling up buckets. He had a moment to reflect that Marcus had appeared about the same time that Bundit had. Were they together? Was Bundit encouraging Marcus in the idea that he might leave Seaward to seek his fortune? Shaking his head, Appleby tried to dispel these doubts and questions from his mind. He turned again to hard work to help with that effort, but even that did not clear his thoughts entirely.
Another hour of work and Appleby, knee deep in muddy water, could feel a change in the currents around him. The water was definitely rising, slowly. Some geological breakthrough had occurred, and it was time to cap the well and install the pump.
"Alright, rocks now!" he cried. Pan leaped down into the well with him--to Appleby's surprise, he was totally naked, which after all made good sense in this muck--and now thick, flat stones began coming down the well in the buckets. Pan and Appleby worked feverishly to line the sides of the well with the stones. Appleby often found his face inches from Pan's penis, still long and relatively thin but with a large, tulip-shaped head--or from his caramel colored, firm, high buttocks--and despite the hard work felt a stirring in his groin. He would have removed his own trousers but they were by now utterly soaked and mud encrusted, so it would have served no purpose. The wall of stones grew, mashed into the thick, muddy sides of the well, and then it was time for the two men to come out.
By now a rope had to be lowered to them to assist their exit. Pan went first, Appleby pushing up against his naked firm butt to help. Then a rope was lowered to Appleby, which he grasped to pull himself up, bracing his feet against the sides of the well as he went. As soon as he emerged topside, the rest of the crew began filling the well with large rocks and positioning the pump. With difficulty, the task was accomplished, the pump braced up and the well covered over by a heavy wooden platform built for the purpose. The men primed the pump and after a little work it brought up splashes of muddy water, to loud cheers all around. As the men knew, when the silt settled and the fresh water moved in, the mud would go away.
The crew looked around in satisfaction, although they were tired and hungry. They realized that they had worked straight through the lunch hour and into the middle of the afternoon. There was not a one of them that was not simply caked in mud or soaked in water, though. Looking around at his filthy friends, Bacchus announced, "I'm going swimming at the pier." Everyone agreed that this was just the thing to do and, after cleaning tools and putting them away, began heading in the direction of the pier.
Pan had never put his clothes back on after emerging from the well. Carrying his shirt and trousers, walking naked down the path, he announced his intention to stop at the stone building by a stream which was the laundry, to leave his clothes to be cleaned. The whole party went with him, as it was on the way to the pier. When they arrived, Cass and Juno were both hard at work scrubbing away at clothes. What happened then was instructive of how different attitudes had developed through the different personalities and generations at Seaward.
"Hi, Mama Cass, hi Mama!" Pan cried out, utterly naked, from the doorway. "We have some filthy, dirty clothes from the bath house work!"
"Land sakes, boy, cover yourself up," grumbled Cass, but she nevertheless came to the door to accept Pan's muddy clothing. "Mmm-mmm-mmm" echoed Juno, emerging from the door behind Pan to survey the muddy crew. "All of you look like you could use some washing."
"Yes, Mama," said Marcus, and without hesitation stripped off everything he had and handed it to her. "Well, look at you!" Juno said, not knowing whether to laugh, disapprove, or admire. Marcus simply stood smiling at her, his thin almost eleven year old, light beige body naturally naked and unashamed. Appleby, Bacchus, Cassius, and Bundit laughed at the sight, then looked at each other, shrugged.... and first one and then the other peeled off his clothing. Each article was caked with mud and really did need cleaning. "Mercy! Now, just go on!" said Juno when the men began stripping, but her "disapproval" was not very vigorous. Juno shook her head and Cass clucked and clucked, but they received the whole pile of dirty clothing even as they snuck peeks here and there at the naked men and boy.
"Race you to the pier!" challenged Cassius, and at that the whole group took off, Marcus barely keeping pace. Naked, penises wagging--large and small, from pink to golden-tan to rich brown, hairless or surrounded by thick bushes of hair-- the whole group ran as fast as they could to the pier. They passed Priam, Troy, and Hector on the way, but they all simply waved and were greeted in return. Bundit in fact won the race, followed by the rest of the men in a tight knot, with Marcus valiantly bringing up the rear. Splash, splash, splash--nobody slackened his pace at all, but simply careened off the end of the pier into the cold February sea water.
The afternoon sun was warm for February and the men were still heated from their work. They swam and splashed, strong swimmers all, and the day's mud and grime floated away from them in the cleansing sea. Eventually the cold of the winter ocean began to catch up with them, though, and they crawled back up onto the pier, spreading out on the warmed wooden planks in the sun to regain some heat.
Naked and wet, they lolled together in a pleasurable, companionable tangle at the far end of the pier, warming themselves in the sun.... and from each other. Laughing and joking gave way to friendly hugs and caresses, a hand on a shoulder here, massaging a tired back there, flopping a head down in a lap, draping an arm around a neck.... Hugs and caresses just naturally gave way to embraces, to sliding of hands, to closer entanglements. Nobody paired off, the group was too pleasantly entangled to do that. Slowly, naturally, the logic of physical contact took over. Now here, now there, penises began to rise until the whole group sported erections.
At the far end of the pier, Pan and Cassius were stretched out together, Cassius on top, tan-brown body sliding on caramel-brown, kissing lightly and looking into each other's eyes. Laughing softly, they ran their fingers through each other's glorious mops of hair: Cassius entangled his tan fingers in Pan's long, dense springs, while the black man on the bottom pulled on Cassius's long, black curls, entwining them in his fingers. Their rigid cocks rode against each other as Cassius slowly, lightly pumped his hips. Then the mulatto man yelped, looking around in surprise. Appleby had snuck up and bitten his butt hard, not breaking the light brown skin but still leaving reddish teeth marks.
Smiling, Cassius slid down Pan's body, tonguing his chest, biting the dark copper nipples, licking the skin of his abdomen, until his face reached Pan's groin where a rigid dark brown cock curved up and away from a nest of tight peppercorn curls above a large, tight ballsack. Cassius grasped the rampant brown dick with his light brown hand and began pumping it slowly. His face now even with Appleby's, Cassius kissed the white man passionately, sucking his tongue, giving his tongue to be taken into Appleby's mouth. Pan began humping his groin up and down, slowly gyrating it. Cassius took the hint and moved his mouth from Appleby to the rampant brown cock beneath his face, nibbling the long hooded dickhead with his lips before swallowing it entirely.
As Cassius began moving his head up and down, sliding Pan's dick in and out of his mouth, Appleby swung around in the other direction. He tugged at Cassius's hips to turn him on his side. The mulatto's medium brown penis contrasted beautifully with his light brown skin, and it rose rampant from a bush of frizzy hair above a tight, wide ballsack. Appleby licked the coating of precum from Cassius's dick and then took it into his mouth, sucking and bobbing his head. Sucking Pan at one end and being sucked at the other by Appleby, the light brown man was in heaven.
Appleby kept his mouth's tight grip on the rampant cock even as he felt movement over and around him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Bundit on his haunches, straddling Pan's shoulders. The Siamese was inserting his rigid cock into Pan's trumpet-lipped mouth, sliding it in and out of the beautiful out-turned reddish brown lips. From his angle of view Appleby saw Bundit from the back, his ass crack showing as his thighs straddled Pan, the muscles in his muscular butt clenching up and down, in and out as the Asian face-fucked the black man beneath him.
Another scrambling of bodies and Appleby felt a hand on his own penis, which had gone unattended despite its rampant attention. Looking down now he caught his breath as the world froze for an instant: Marcus had scrambled over him and landed into the nest of bodies. The almost-eleven year old was squatting, his light brown, thin penis stiff and waving in the air, and had gently grasped Appleby's rampant cock with his small hand.
The boy looked Appleby straight in the eye... then smiled... then began pumping the rigid cock. In an instant the old moralities reared up in Appleby--this was a first, for although he and the boy had certainly seen each other naked, although they had enjoyed many long moments of hugs and caresses, although the boy had even touched his penis before out of curiosity--Marcus had not touched him in this way before.
The body thinks for us sometimes, and it did so this time for Appleby. Marcus had lots of "Papas" on the island, and the biological connection to this particular man probably mattered more to the man than to the boy, although both were aware of it. But the morality that went with all that in Appleby's past... it had no connection to why Marcus was pumping his penis. That was out of love and desire and curiosity. Appleby's body surrendered to the sweet moment, to the smile of joy and wonder he saw on Marcus's face. Smiling back as best he could with Cassius's penis in his mouth, Appleby began to move his hips gently in time to Marcus's rhythm.
Bacchus was the last piece of the puzzle. Apple got a glimpse of him slipping past Marcus, patting the boy's bush of curls. Then he stepped around to stand in front of Bundit, his feet straddling his twin's head. Bundit eagerly grasped Bacchus's dark chocolate organ in one hand and ducking his head down took his deep brown, oblong, hairless ballsack into his mouth. Gently sucking and rolling the testicles with his tongue, Bundit stimulated the ocean of sperm within. With his other he cupped the black man's high, rounded butt and kneaded the firm muscles with his fingers. Bacchus gasped and groaned, then pulled his scrotum away to point his rigid penis toward Bundit's mouth instead. The Siamese man took as much of it into his mouth as he could, as Bacchus grasped his wings of thick black hair and began swinging his hips back and forth, back and forth.
Marcus's fist tightened on Appleby's rigid cock and began riding up and down, drops of precum flying off. The boy began tugging at his own stiff little cock with his other hand, his thin little body bucking back and forth in imitation of the men around him. At that moment, Pan set off a chain reaction. Moaning loudly, but with his mouth full of Bundit's pumping dick, Pan heaved his groin upward into Cassius's waiting mouth, filling it with his warm semen. Bundit and Cassius came at about the same time, Bundit choking down Pan's groans as he filled the black man's mouth with his cum, while Cassius kept his mouth's grip on Pan's penis as he pushed his own groin into Appleby's mouth, clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing as his sperm flowed into the white man.
Appleby sucked Cassius dry, then released his still rampant dick to slam his hips forward, spraying Marcus with ropes and dollops of sperm. The boy shouted in joyous surprise and kept pumping at the same furious speed, showering himself with semen, until his father gently grasped his wrist to stop the movement. Then the boy himself was gasping, quivering and shaking with his own dry orgasm, and father and son held their positions for a moment, frozen in space and time: Marcus with one hand on his own small, erect organ, one hand coated with sperm and wrapped around Appleby's reddish dick, both man and boy panting. Then Marcus rolled over onto Appleby, who lay on his back, enfolding the boy in his arms as their naked bodies entwined, the lad's curly head resting on his chest. At that moment Bacchus put back his head and roared, holding Bundit's head tight as he slammed forward, clenched his hips, bucked three or four times and pushed forward again in his ecstasy. The circle of passion was complete.
The entire group collapsed in upon itself again, breath seething and ragged, arms and legs flopping here and there. Peace slowly returned as they exchanged caresses and hugs. Still lying with Marcus stretched out on his torso, his face buried in the boy's mop of curls, Appleby breathed in the boy's fresh smell and hugged his thin body close to his chest and belly. Then he heard a chuckle. Looking toward his feet he saw Pan, propped up on an elbow, gesturing with his head toward the beach end of the pier. There sat Rain and Moss, gentle smiles on their faces, simply observing everything in pure innocence and curiosity, delighted at the happy sight of so many happy men (and boy).
"Alright, everybody, clean-up time again," declared Pan, sliding out from under the parts of Cassius, Bundit, and Bacchus that were covering him. He rolled right off the pier and into the water. The others laughed and groaned, but followed suit, washing away the sweat and semen in the salty waters of the sea. Clean again, the group climbed back out and, in groups of two or three, Rain and Moss scampering around them, made their way stark naked back across the island toward the main house.
The group broke up to go their separate ways when they reached the house and cabins. Appleby trooped up the stairs to the second floor with Bundit, Cassius, and the twins, where they all made themselves presentable. Eager to see the condition of the well and pump, they emerged from the house and made their way to the construction site of the new bath house. There they were relieved to find that all was in order, the water nearly clear, the pump working, the cap in place. A bath house could now be constructed around the site, and those who would be on the island in the morning made plans to start the work. Appleby had made plans with Troy and Priam to go into Charleston, to the meeting of the militia, to pursue their designs for keeping the island safe.
A larger than usual group congregated at the main house for dinner, bringing over food from the kitchen and spreading out in the dining room and on the verandah. The children played all around and through the gathering, now in the house, now on the lawn, now on the verandah. Wat climbed up in Appleby's lap as he sat in a rocker on the verandah, hugging the "Papa" tightly, his thin little body pressed up against the man's chest and belly. Then the boy kissed Appleby lightly on the lips, ran his small golden-brown hand through the man's shoulder length light brown hair, and scampered off. Moss and Rain came by to lean on his lap and tell him about their adventures of the day. "And then we went down to the pier and saw all the Papas having fun!" said Rain, as Moss nodded agreement, smiling. Then off they ran.
Appleby could not deny the swelling in his groin at each of these contacts--but was it sexual? For that matter, was the sexual any different from warm, loving, human contact? Was every intimate contact the perfection of the child in us wanting to be hugged? It could be otherwise, be destructive, of course--but pray God, not among this Seaward family. He mused on these matters for a while as one by one his friends bade him good-night and went their ways for the evening.
Marcus came out onto the verandah, a pout on his face, and stood next to Appleby. It was clear he was waiting to be asked, so..... "Marcus, what's wrong?" Appleby asked.
The boy then crawled up into his lap, leaning his mop of curls against Appleby's chest. "I'm mad at Papa Bundit," he said.
"Marcus! Whatever for?"
"He said he thought I was too young to leave Seaward. He said you were right."
"Is... is Bundit leaving Seaward?"
"No, not for sure, he's just talking about it. I asked him if I could go with him if he does. He said no, I was too young." A moment passed. "I'm NOT," the boy concluded.
At that moment Portia and Hector came out onto the porch, holding hands. Appleby looked up at them over Marcus's head, winked and smiled, and said softly to the boy, "Here's your Mama, see what she says about it." Marcus craned his head around to see his mother, then leaned his head against Appleby's muscular chest once more. "I know she thinks I'm too young," he said, scowling.
"To leave Seaward, if Bundit goes," Appleby explained to Portia. A look of horror flashed across her face and she rolled her eyes. Hector shook his head, a serious look on his face. Kneeling in front of Appleby and the boy in the rocker, she held Marcus's hand tightly.
"Marcus, listen to me. People with African blood... people who are not white.... they have a very hard time of it on the mainland." It seemed to make no difference to the boy. A harder look came over Portia's beautiful features. "Listen: I was stripped and made to stand naked in front of strangers in a slave market. Do you know what happens to people there? Do you know what happens to dark-skinned people ashore? Would you like a strange man feeling your body, looking at it, using it for work or--other things?"
That got the boy's attention. He turned to look at his kneeling mother. "I'm mainly white," he said. Appleby and Portia looked at each other, sharing the profound sadness of a truth they could tell Marcus but could not make him believe.
"Marcus," Appleby said gently, hugging him tightly and ruffling his curls, "you are not white enough. It's very sad, it's very wrong, but this beautiful light tan color of yours, your full lips," and here he tilted the boy's head up to look at his face, his heart breaking with the truths he had to utter, "your wonderful curly hair... It's just the way you should be, Marcus. You are beautiful. But you are one quarter African, and for the mainland, that will never be white." Looking deep into the hazel eyes of the boy he loved so much, Appleby's own eyes watered. "You will never be safe, until slavery is ended, if then." He kissed the boy on the forehead and hugged him tightly, a trickle of tears now escaping down his cheeks. Portia nodded gravely and whispered "yes," her own eyes glistening, and Hector rumbled, "It's the truth, Marcus, listen to Papa Mark."
They sat quietly like that for a moment, then Portia rose and grasped Hector's hand once more. "Well, Marcus.... Hector and I... will be in the cabin," she said. Appleby looked appraisingly at the two, then realization dawned. He gave them a giant wink, which made Portia's light brown skin blush as Hector hung his head and grinned. "Say, Marcus... why don't you get Wat and the two of you can spend the night upstairs with me, alright?" he asked. Marcus sat up and looked at Appleby, contemplating--then a bright smile formed on his face. "Alright," he said, and scampered off to find his brother.
"Thanks, master," said Portia after he had gone, and "yes, thanks," echoed Hector, still grinning. "Don't break anything" replied Appleby smiling hugely, which did not reduce Portia's blush any at all. Off the two went with his blessing, passing Marcus and Wat on the way as they returned from their cabin.
"Boys, come with me," Appleby said, and taking each by a hand he led them out onto the lawn, across it and past a line of trees, into the meadow. Finding a dry, grassy place, Appleby lay on his back and the boys cuddled up next to him. Looking up at the pitch black night sky, Appleby pointed out different constellations to them, telling them how to recognize the different shapes and patterns identified by ancient peoples.
"Papa, does everybody see the same shapes?" asked Wat.
"No... no, I don't suppose they do," replied Appleby.
"Then how do we know which are the right ones?" asked Marcus.
"Well.... I suppose everybody has to pick out what is right for themselves. If it looks like a spider for some people, that's what it is. If others think it's a horse, that's what it is," said Appleby, thoughtfully. The cool air of February settled on them gradually, and it became time to go in. Hand in hand again, Appleby led the boys back to the main house.
Thinking he would do their mother a favor, he announced it was bath time. As he filled the tub with water, adding some of the hot water from the kettle on the small stove, the boys stripped off their clothing. Into the tub they went, Marcus's skin wet and beautiful with the lightest wash of coffee color--Wat's skin wet and beautiful with a darker brown shade and overtones of old gold and persimmon--light brown curly hair or jet black curly hair adorned with jewels of water droplets. The two splashed and frolicked, soaping each other up companionably.
Appleby's groin stirred again, but from love or beauty or desire he truly could not tell. Maybe there was no ultimate difference. Maybe it depended on the pattern he traced in the stars of the bright young bodies in the tub.
The boys came bounding out of the tub and dried off. Carrying their clothes, they walked naked up the stairs with Appleby and into his room. The adventures of the day were beginning to take their toll. They flopped sideways onto the bed, semi-stiff little brown penises wagging in the air, as Papa Mark stripped his clothes off as well. Then he slipped into the bed and pulled the boys in with him under the covers to ward off the winter chill that had invaded the room. He reached over and turned off the light.
The boys cuddled up next to him, safe and warm, as he scooped them in with his arms. They lay there peacefully, their arms around Appleby's chest and belly, penises now slightly stiff and now soft, back and forth, as they squirmed into him in the physical contact of love. Safe and quiet, the three drifted off to sleep.