This story contains graphic but completely fictional depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage boys. If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.
Seaward Plantation
Chapter 2
The boat eventually sailed into a tiny, sandy cove. Working feverishly but expertly, Troy and Hector brought the boat to a gliding stop by the wooden pier that jutted out into the cove. Lashing the boat securely to the pier, Troy leaped out first and turned to offer a hand to Appleby.
"Welcome home, Master Mark," he said. Appleby grasped the strong brown hand to pull himself up out of the boat, as the boy Hector helped from behind--helped by placing one hand on Appleby's back to steady him and another under his arm to help him up. Standing on the pier, Appleby saw a lush green island rising gently up from the cove, with stone steps laid into a rising path through the trees. "Follow me, please sir," said Troy, and led the way down the pier and up the steps. Hector followed, keeping close by Appleby's elbow, brushing lightly against him as they walked, smiling shyly up at his master in eagerness at the homecoming.
Making their way up the steps through a dense forest of pine and oak, the three emerged into a meadow. They crossed through the knee-high grass flecked with blue and yellow flowers. At one end grazed three cows and a donkey. "All mine," said Mark to himself, "all mine." Through another stand of trees they went and then out into a clearing where Appleby first saw his new home: Seaward. The party stopped to take in the view. Unusually for homes in that part of the world, it was made of stone--the better to withstand the occasional hurricane or strong storm that came through, he would later learn. It rose two stories with a tile roof and was surrounded on the lower level by a white-columned wood porch with white railings that went around the entire circumference of the house. Not enormous by Southern plantation standards, it was nevertheless more space and more grandeur than Appleby had ever imagined having at his young age. As they walked toward the house, he noticed several paths going off into the surrounding trees, a large vegetable garden, and within sight down a couple of the paths were smaller cabins that were, he assumed, for the slaves. These cabins were of wood but appeared to be solidly built and well maintained. Smoke rose from fireplace chimneys in some of them.
A cry went up from the house, answered by a couple of responses from the cabins. From here and there Appleby could see people running or walking toward the front verandah of the house, toward which they were moving. His heart skipped a beat as the full reality of his situation became clearer to him. He was Master here and was about to meet his slaves, people he owned, people he had complete control over. Not for the first time since leaving Boston, he wondered how he would be received by these people, and whether he would be up to the challenges that lay before him, the only one of his color on the island. More people gathered on the lawn just in front of the wide, shallow steps of the verandah. Mark and his two slaves walked up to the group, every eye upon him, and they stopped.
Feeling it incumbent upon him, Troy stepped forward and raised his strong, deep voice. "This is Master Mark," he said, "Master Mark Appleby. Sir, would you like me to introduce the people to you?" he asked.
"Yes, please, and thank you, Troy," he replied. Some of those assembled exchanged quick looks among themselves, then bowed their heads slightly once more, sneaking glances at their young Master who stood before them.
"Well," he said, hesitating, "This.. this is Pa. Priam," he said, beginning on the left. An older version of Troy stepped forward, a man in his fifties with a full head of short, white hair. He smiled confidently and bowed his head, saying "Master, sir." "Priam," Appleby replied. From a life of physical labor, Priam was still in superb shape, with the body of a man in his thirties. Well muscled, a strong physique was apparent through his clean, rough clothes. His chest was not the hard circles that his son had, but bulged out in well defined lobes, left and right. Hard muscles corded his strong neck still. He stood quietly, his large hands clasped together in front of his groin. Quick glances of pride and pleasure towards his sons were apparent, as were equally quick peaks of appraisal, interest, and caution towards his new master.
".and this is my Ma, Cassandra," continued Troy. "We mainly call her Mama Cass." Priam's wife stepped forward, smiled, and bowed her head quickly. "Master Mark, sir," she said. "I do laundry and housekeeping here, have for forty years for Miss Lucy since she came from yonder, up North," she said. "Anything you need done, you let me know. I reckon maybe your clothes need washing after that long trip from up yonder." It was a statement more than a question. Mark acknowledged her and smiled to himself, for here was a woman who was queen of her domain. Still attractive in her fiftieth year, she was stocky and strong but trim.
".and here's my little sister, Helen," said Troy. From between Priam and Mama Cass pushed a girl of eleven years who nodded shyly and remained silent, peering frankly with dark eyes at Appleby despite her lowered head. She was dressed in a simple one piece shift. The family resemblance among Priam's family was strong. Helen was strong and stocky although not at all fat despite her solid build. Muscles already rolled along her bare arms, and Mark noted the outlines of orange-sized breasts beneath the fabric of her dress.
"Now over here," Troy continued, "We have Mama Juno." A large, round woman stepped forward, and Appleby could tell that the second family of the Seaward Island slaves was being introduced. If Priam and Mama Cass's family was all the same rich, chocolate brown, Mama Juno's family was more a deep caramel. There was no doubt that they were African-- Mark doubted there had been much mixing in their past--but the sun of Africa shone through their skin in highlights of deep honey and old gold. Mama Juno was large but solid. "Master Mark," she said, bobbing her head and rushing on with energy, "I cook for you mainly, and clean too along with Mama Cass, work in the garden, a little of everything." Mark nodded at her, smiling.
".and here's my wife, Athena," said Troy. Mark's surprise at this news was evident on his face, as an attractive young woman of twenty stepped forward around her mother. She was quite slim with pert, high breasts--or would have been had it not been for the rounded belly that betrayed a pregnancy. For a moment Mark could think of nothing but Troy's naked figure mounted atop hers, those strong protruding buttocks pumping back and forth as his penis entered her, creating the new creature that now grew within her. Appleby suddenly realized he was staring at her belly in abstraction, and turning his gaze quickly on Troy it seemed that the young black man blushed even darker than he was, as if he knew what his master was thinking. Athena, too, seemed to blush and nodded her head to her master, but did not speak.
"Master Mark, sir, here's the last of us: Pan and Bacchus, but we just call him 'Bacch,' sir. Ummm. they're twins, sir."
Troy indicated two boys of about thirteen years who came forward; no, they didn't so much come forward as hopped, or even skipped. If Hector was a colt, these two were puppies, young man puppies. And they were the most beautiful boys Appleby had ever seen. It wasn't just their bright, playful attitude or the wide smiles on their faces. They were simply as beautiful as girls. Thin, straight, and taught as whips, their tight, plain clothing revealed thin pads of square muscle on their chests, smooth flat bellies, long, thin, well-muscled arms and legs. Their butts seemed perfectly round, bubbles of hard flesh that seemed to ask to be cupped in the hand. Long, thin necks supported oval faces of exceptional beauty. Their dark caramel skin was flawless and radiant, noses were pear-shaped, rounded and flattened in the African manner but not too large, long thick eyelashes curled away from medium brown eyes. And their lips were like trumpets or lilies, full top and bottom and curving out ever so gently that Mark imagined for a moment you could lay a pearl between the top lip and the wide nose and it would stay put. Short caps of hair in tightly curled peppercorns adorned their heads. Appleby didn't stand a chance: his penis responded instantly, pressing against his breeches. It was all he could do to keep from touching these two boys, and all he could think of was that they were his, his!
Afraid that he was wetting the front of his trousers with the clear precum he knew would be leaking from his full penis, he adjusted his coat around him and cleared his throat. "Thank you, thank you all. I look forward to living here with you. I have so much to learn," and with that last statement the weight of his position and responsibilities came back to him, damping down his sudden passion.
Priam stepped forward as the natural leader of the group, his son Troy stepping back in acknowledgment of that, and quickly began to get things in order. The women, respectfully fussing over Appleby, took him into the house to feed him lunch, while the men and boys hitched up a donkey cart and went back to the boat to collect Mark's luggage and the supplies that had been brought from the mainland. Mark could not resist a look over his shoulders at Hector and Troy walking towards the cove with strength and purpose in their step, Pan and Bacch running and jumping around them in excess energy and grace. And did Hector look back over his shoulder briefly at Mark and smile? Perhaps so.
Appleby entered his new home and, as the women hurriedly prepared a meal, he had a chance to look at the layout of the house on the ground floor. Large, spacious rooms were decorated in a plain, if old-fashioned style that reminded him of his Aunt. Everywhere, large French windows stood open to let in the sea breeze, blowing lace curtains gently. He found a dining room, a comfortable library, a large drawing room or salon, a study, and one curious modern innovation: a brick-floored room at one corner of the house in which stood a large claw-footed bathtub, a water-pump, and a small fireplace hung with metal buckets for heating water. Evidently one could bathe in comfort inside and, if he was not mistaken, simply drain the water out through a pipe into the flowerbed outside. Such modern marvels! In the library he found three or four books out on tables or down from the shelves, and he wondered who had been reading them. From a window he could see barns, a detached kitchen, storage sheds, and, he noted for future reference, a large outhouse with a moon (for women?) on one door and a sun (men?) on the other.
Mama Juno called Appleby into the dining room, where a simple lunch of soup, bread, and fruit awaited him. Shy at first, Mama Juno and Mama Cass slowly warmed up to Mark's gentle questions as he ate the meal. Athena smiled shyly but said little as she helped to serve and clear. Mama Juno was widowed, it turned out, "Papa" having been taken by the sea during a particularly violent storm some ten years ago; Pan and Bacch barely remembered him. Mama Juno, Mama Cass, and Athena had all been born on Seaward Plantation, as indeed were all of the other slaves except for Priam, who had been purchased in Charleston as a young boy of ten, captured and sold from Africa. Juno and Cass had served the Huddle family all their lives, and Miss Lucy when Richardson, the last of the Huddles, died so many years ago.
Appleby was aware of the comings and goings of the male slaves from the banging and bumping of luggage and parcels that he could hear in the passageways and around the house. Mama Cass explained that vegetables and livestock were raised on the island, which was remarkably self-sufficient, and that other stores were purchased on the island and brought over by boat as needed. "Master Smith kept the bills paid in the stores since Miss Lucy passed," she said, "so Troy goes over every so often with Priam or one of the boys and brings back provisions."
As Appleby thanked the women and stood up from the table, Priam entered the room and asked after his master's pleasure for the afternoon. Priam, it seemed, was a sort of supervisor of the Plantation, especially buildings, crops, livestock and so forth outside, and was willing to give Appleby a tour of the island. But tired from the journey, Mark thought it best to explore the house on this first day, a plan agreed to by all. He moved into the study, where he had left the folder of information given to him by Horatio Smith, settled into a comfortable leather wingback chair, and opened the packet. On top of the deeds, lists of securities, records of estate finances and so forth, Mark found a letter addressed to him from his Aunt.
"My dearest Mark," it began, "if you are reading this, then I have departed and you have come home to Seaward Plantation." Mark was touched by the dignified tone and sentiments of family attachment it expressed. It was a long letter explaining various details of business and management related to his properties. Toward the end of the letter his personal interest became more aroused.
"You may have observed by now, in even a short while," it said, "that the slaves of Seaward are somewhat different." Mark wasn't sure what was different about them since he had very little experience of black people, or of slaves, or of the South with which to compare his eventful morning. He read on: "For one thing, they can read and write and do mathematics. I advise you not to publicize this fact. I don't think even dear Horatio Smith knows. It was illegal for me to teach them and it is illegal for them to know all this, but the deed is done and it can't be helped." Well! Appleby had not given much thought to the matter, but now that he considered this news he realized how extraordinary it was. "The servants will know that you know this once you have read this letter," Lucy's missive continued. "You will also note that they speak correctly, and not in any degraded form of English. I taught them to do so myself, and I insisted upon it." Again, Mark had never heard enough Africans speaking to have formed an opinion, but he now seemed to recall a distinctly more "correct" way of speaking among the slaves of Seaward than what he had heard in passing among the crowds of slaves and servants in Charleston. The letter concluded: "Finally, Mark, learn to love these people--I did--and they will learn to respect, and perhaps love, you in return." Thoughts of Troy and Hector, and of the strikingly beautiful boys Pan and Bacchus, quickly came to Appleby's mind, and whispered "Oh, yes" softly.
The rest of the afternoon went quickly, it seemed. Appleby's legal training helped him to understand the business and financial condition of the estate, which was good. Having mastered these details, Appleby rose and stretched and opened the study doorway into the hall, which nearly knocked over two people who were just on the other side: Pan and Bacchus. Had they been listening at the door? There was nothing to hear but the rustling of papers! Peeking in at the keyhole? There was nothing to see but.... but him. Mark looked at them in wonder.
"Oh, Master Mark!" said one breathlessly, and the other continued, "We were just now coming to tell you," obviously lying. The first went on, "Mr. Priam says that we are to be the inside boys and take care of you!" Both beamed with pride, their lovely faces lighting up, trumpet lips parting to reveal perfect, white teeth. A light, puppyish energy animated each boy's body.
"Wait!" said Appleby.... "Which of you is Pan and which is Bacchus? How can I tell?"
One boy put his finger to the side of his soft, wide, pear- shaped nose. "Pan has a mole there," said the other boy. Mark bent closer to see the small, dark brown spot. Inches away from Pan's face, he could smell a breath sweet with bread and mint; his eyes shifted abruptly to Pan's, locked there for a minute, and then recollecting himself he pulled away and straightened up, a swelling feeling evident in his groin. "We are your inside-the-house boys, Mr. Priam says, Master Mark!" contined Bacch. "Miss Lucy had Athena to take care of her, but she's a girl," added Pan, with a hint of distaste.
"So we're going to show you the upstairs and your room!" Bacch continued, and without asking or commenting, and as naturally as could be, he took Appleby's large white hand in his smaller honey-brown hand and began leading him toward the stairs to the second floor. Pan darted ahead, looking back with a mischievous smile at Appleby and Bacchus and, in a couple of pointed glances, at their clasped hands.
Mark's head was full of questions about this latest of strange, happy experiences. He was walking hand in hand with a thirteen year old black boy to his bedroom. Wasn't this as strange as it was delightful? More important, what did it mean to the slim boy next to him? He nodded distractedly as the boys showed him each of the six bedrooms upstairs, each with a small, attached dressing chamber. Pan jumped ahead to open each door and describe, with the flourish of a thirteen year old tour guide, the attractions of each room. Bacchus held tight to his master's hand and simply guided him in and out of each chamber as they moved through the house.
Pan opened the last door: "This is your room, Master Mark!" It was pleasant and comfortably furnished, although plainly so. The masculine objects in it--hairbrush, old shaving kit, bottle of bay rhum--made Appleby wonder if this were Richardson Huddle's old room. He noted with pleased surprise that many of his belongings from his luggage lay around the room. "We put your things away, except your clothes are being washed, Master sir" said Pan, quickly opening a few dresser drawers and a tall wardrobe in the corner. "And you get a nice view from here," said Bacchus who led Mark, still grasping his hand, to a window opposite the foot of a large four-poster bed, where the lawn and the sea could be seen below. Breaking his grasp, Bacchus ran ahead to open the window, letting in a cool sea breeze. He remained in front of the window, so that when Appleby came up to it to see the view he had to stand directly behind Bacchus. And as naturally as could be, Appleby put his hands on the shoulders of the boy and gently pulled him back. Bacch came back easily, and even his boyish bounciness eased as he relaxed against Appleby's hard, grownup torso. Each twin was no more than five feet tall, maybe even a shade less. Looking down quickly from the sea view, Mark was lost in the beauty, difference, and strangeness of the tightly curled peppercorns of hair that covered Bacch's caramel scalp. How long did they stand like that? Probably not long, but Mark was completely lost in the moment. What had previously been an ominous swelling in his groin turned instantly into a full fledged erection, straining against the cloth of his trousers. How could Bacchus not feel that even through the coat which Appleby still wore?
The moment was broken as Pan burst into Mark's consciousness, insistently tugging on his sleeve, pulling him away from the window and the near embrace of his boy slave. "Bacch and I are going to sleep right next door to you, Master Mark, come and see!" and he pulled Appleby to the door of the adjoining dressing room. "See?" he said, pointing out a double-wide pallet that had been recently assembled on the floor, "I sleep on the left and Bacch sleeps on the right." "Hmmmph," said Bacchus, coming up beside them, "sometimes he sleeps on the bottom and I sleep on the top." Appleby looked at the boys quickly, wondering if he had just heard what he heard. Pan gave Bacch a friendly if annoyed jab in the arm, to which his brother replied with an even stronger push. This shove sent Pan back a step against Appleby's right side, nearly under his arm. Instinctively, Mark put that arm around Pan, his open hand naturally coming to rest over the thin square pad of flesh on the left side of Pan's chest. "Now boys, no rough- housing" he said, chuckling. "Yeah!" said Pan, as if chastising his brother, and like Bacchus before him sank back gently into his master's torso. The boys smiled at each other--was it in a sly, knowing way?--and for a moment Mark's open palm glided over the rough cloth between him and the slave boy's chest. He felt a protruding nipple, and pinched it playfully. The raging erection in his breeches that had somewhat subsided returned in full force. "Ouch" said Pan, with no real pain, and bounded away a step, smiling back at his master.
Voices were heard calling from below. Between his work in the study and his tour of the upstairs, the entire afternoon had passed. As if roused from a dream, the boys ran quickly out of the room and down the stairs, followed by their master who was struggling to recover his composure. Pan and Bacchus, full of their new importance as house boys, attempted to serve dinner to their master, but Mama Juno, Mama Cass, and Athena once again took over to set before him a delicious meal of chicken, potatoes, and vegetables grown there on the island. After dinner Appleby sat on the verandah, rocking gently in one of the many rocking chairs that graced the wrap-around porch. Twice he waved at Troy going about his business, and Troy returned a short bow. Twice more he thought he glimpsed Hector at the corner of first one outbuilding and then another; the boy seemed to be peeking at him. A wave from Appleby only made the boy, if Hector it was indeed, slip back behind the building.
A pleasant hour passed as twilight deepened into night. The women, reminding Appleby that country people go early to bed, departed from the house, wishing him a good night. Feeling the tiredness of his journey and the strangeness of the day, Appleby rose to go into the house. But before he could go up the stairs, his boy slaves appeared as if from nowhere, Bacchus with a bundle of cloth in his arms.
"We have your bath ready, Master Mark sir!" announced Pan with a note of triumph. Surprised but pleased at their thoughtfulness, Mark followed Pan into the brick-floored bathroom, where he saw that the claw-foot tub had been filled with steaming water. Bacchus put down his burden, revealing towels and a bathrobe.
"Mama Cass says she wants to wash your clothes, so dirty from travel," said Pan, "so we have to take them to her." Moving quickly before Mark could say a thing, Pan slid off his master's coat, in a few deft tugs untied his tie, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Not to be outdone, Bacchus kneeled down and pulled off first one boot and then another, then Appleby's thick woolen socks. Both boys paused, standing together in front of their master, a pile of his clothing and boots beside them. Mark was so surprised he did not know how to react. He stood there shirtless, revealing a well muscled chest and abdomen. A light nest of hair grew in the center of his chest between two solid slabs of muscle, then ran in a line of light hair that disappeared into his trousers. Appleby's surprise was compounded when he realized that each boy was staring at his chest and muscled stomach, full, thick lips parted slightly, brown eyes staring. Almost absent-mindedly, Pan reached out and undid Appleby's belt--half a second later, Bacchus did the same for the buttons on his trousers. In one motion, they pulled down their master's pants and underwear.
Time stood still. Both boys looked, open-mouthed now and breathing with soft excitement. A seven inch uncircumcised penis sprang from Appleby's groin, with two heavy testicles in the sack of skin beneath. Appleby could feel an impending erection, and he knew that he would soon be fully erect once the surprise of his disrobing was over. The moment was broken in near-comedy however, for he was really not at his cleanest after two days since his last stopover at an inn in Virginia, and Bacchus now acknowledged this evident fact by saying, "Master Mark, you do need a bath!" then, "Oh! sorry sir!" when he realized what he had said. Man and boys chuckled--was it in relief, for all of them? Appleby stepped quickly to the tub, over the side, and lowered himself into the steaming water.
Bacchus quickly scooped up Appleby's clothes and boots, bundled them up, and ran from the room to take them to Mama Cass who was waiting for them in the nearby laundry building. Pan stood by the tub alone for a moment, his eyes hungrily taking in the vision of his master's white body, now submerged and distorted by the water. If he and Bacchus, like Hector, rarely saw white men, this was certainly the first time he had ever seen a white man naked. Thinking quickly, Pan decided to offer his services.
"Would you like for me to wash your back, Master, sir?" he asked, and even before Mark could answer with a smiling nod, he rushed to grab a brush and a bar of soap. Holding the soap tightly in one hand, but so his fingers extended around it, Pan moved the bar around his master's broad, hairless back, sly fingers secretly following the movement of the bar. When he could not pretend to be simply soaping the white man's back any more, he applied the brush in the same way, fingertips gliding over white skin as it went. By this time Bacchus had come running back and stood slightly panting in the doorway. "Uhh... want me to wash your front, Master, sir?" he asked? It was a brilliant gambit, and for a moment it succeeded. Snatching up the bar of soap, he gently moved it in circles around his master's broad chest, lingering ever so slightly over the rose colored nipples. It was when Bacch's hand began to move lower, over Appleby's muscled belly, following the line of light brown hair downwards, that an old shyness, even fear, took Appleby over for a moment.
"Thanks, boys," said Mark, and disappeared under the water, his sudden movement and the swell of water pushing both boys back for a moment. All three laughed as Mark emerged from the soapy water, shoulder-length hair streaming wet. "Time to get out," he said. "Is there a towel?" When Bacchus brought one and held it out unfolded from arm to arm, Appleby quickly rose from the tub and took over, taking the towel for himself and drying with it, being careful to keep it over his swelling member.
"But where are my clothes?" he asked. "The change of clothes from my valise?"
"All being washed, Master Mark," said Pan. "But we brought you this old bathrobe we found," said Bacchus, "and Mama Cass says your clothes will be ready tomorrow. He handed his master an ancient masculine bathroom, clean and whole but smelling slightly of camphor and cedarwood. Appleby quickly realized it must have been Richardson Huddle's, and decades old. He wrapped it around himself quickly, then stopped to take in the scene of a still nearly-filled tub and his two boy slaves, who stood nearby awaiting the next instructions. Some deeply hidden spirit of desire awoke and spoke through him, inspiring his next words.
"Your turn," he said, "you two take a bath."
Pan and Bacchus looked at each other, whether in joy or triumph Appleby could not tell. Pan shrugged, Bacchus nodded, and they undressed quickly, not caring that they threw their clothes down on the water-soaked brick. Shirts came off quickly revealing slim, straight, hard young bodies with thin but tough muscled pads on their chests, the beginnings of washboard bellies, and navels that coiled like snails even with the skin of their stomachs. Down came trousers, flung aside. Like a chef will pause before lifting the cover to a spectacular dish, the boys flashed brilliant grins at each other, then cast aside the thin loincloths that served them as underwear. The thirteen year old boys stood naked before their master, who stood stunned by their beauty. An even deep caramel all over, with highlights of honey and darker valleys of chocolate, their skin was smooth and flawless. Round bubbles of hips formed bottoms that Appleby could hardly resist cupping with his hands. Small sprinklings of peppercorn hair dotted their groins just above six inch long uncut penises that, half- erect, curved out and downward. They were very dark, darker than the boys' caramel skin, and like large flower buds, the shafts not too thick and the heads long, hooded buds waiting to open and reveal their nectar. These were the first naked blacks Appleby had ever seen, and he was stunned by their flawless perfection. Both boys looked, not at each other or themselves, but at him, and in that moment they knew what he felt, and they were proud.
The evil spirit of slavery overtook Appleby for just a moment. These delicious young boys were his, he owned them and could do with them what he wanted. He could beat them, he could possess them sexually, he could eat them alive. In that moment, he very nearly wanted to fall upon their candy skin and bite it, licking their sweetness. He barely resisted.
"In the tub with you," he said, but it came out as just more than a whisper. The boys complied, sitting face to face as the water rose nearly to overflowing. Ignoring their master for a moment, they laughed and splashed, each one soaping himself up before passing the bar to his brother. Legs intertwined in the tub. Water flowed over dark shiny skin, making the hills and valleys of their adolescent muscles stand out more clearly. Appleby simply stood and stared, grateful for the robe which hid what was now a towering erection.
Without their master saying a word, the boys leaped out of the tub and each one grabbed a towel damp from their master's use. Drying themselves as much as possible, and quickly, they wrapped the towels around their slim waists and gathered up their damp clothing from the floor. "Time for rest, Master Mark," said Bacchus. The boys leading the way, they made a strange parade up through the darkened hallway and stairs to the second floor. The boys went to their quarters in the dressing room while Appleby walked to the window of his room and collect his thoughts. Strong emotions warred with his utter exhaustion from travel and the tiring day. Hearing bumps and giggles from the dressing room next door as the boys hung out their clothing to dry, he looked out the open window at the moonlit sea and the lawn below. And there he saw.. now he was sure of it. Hector, standing on the lawn with no attempt at concealment, looking up at his window and at him. Was there a look of yearning on his face? It was hard to tell from that distance. Appleby waved to him and this time, instead of running to hide, Hector waved back, then turned and slowly walked in the direction of the slave cabins, head slightly bowed.
"Master Mark, sir, do you need anything else tonight? Maybe you should rest, sir." Pan stood in the doorway between Appleby's room and the boys' chamber, the towel still loosely wrapped around his waist, gaping forward a bit to reveal a few curls of kinky hair. "No, thank you, Pan, I believe I will rest now," said Appleby. Nodding, Pan retreated. Hesitating for a moment, Mark realized he had no clothing at all in the room besides the borrowed robe; it was all being washed by Mama Cass. Uncaring, he cast it aside, slid naked under the cool sheets of the four-poster bed, and fell asleep the instant his head came to rest.
Who could not have powerful dreams after a day like that? Appleby's dreaming mind wandered through strange passageways where dark hands, dark bodies, beautiful dark shining skin was all around him, caressing him, rubbing him. Enormous flower buds burst open, spraying him with fragrant dew. Faster and faster the images came, until the dream broke with a snap and he woke up, starting up onto one elbow. It was then that he realized three things. First, that he had been shouting in his sleep. Second, that his penis was enormously erect, nearly pushing back up against his belly, and glistening with clear liquid. Third, that a naked boy had one foot on the floor, one knee on his moonlit bed, and with both hands was shaking his forearm.
"Master Mark, Master Mark! Are you alright? You were shouting." It was Pan.
It took no more than a second for Mark to decide what he would do, what he must do, powered by a mighty desire built up by his dreams. In one quick, fluid motion he pushed up from his elbow to his hand, arching his body off the bed, and with the other hand he cupped the black boy's whole butt. Mark didn't ask and he didn't tell, he simply scooped the slim young body underneath his own, positioning Pan on his back beneath him, then plunged downward onto the slim brown boy.
Years of longing and a whole day of desire came flooding out. Two rampant cocks, one deep pink and the other deep brown, pointing straight up between their bodies and slick with clear precum, slid up and down against each other. Appleby's strong male body ground into his slave. Pan whimpered in pleasure and put both arms around the strong white back of his master, pulling him closer, willing man and boy to merge through the white and brown skins. Both Appleby's hands grasped the boy's rounded muscular shoulders, while his mouth sought the full, moist lips of the slave. He sucked first one lip and then the other into his mouth, tasting and kneading them with his own. Appleby thrust his tongue into the boy's mouth, running it slowly along the ridges of his perfect teeth, slipping and sliding against the boy's tongue all the while. Then, with a gasp, he broke off and twisted his head to look behind him.
There was Bacchus, awakened by the sounds from the bedroom, already up onto the bed. "Oh, Master Mark sir," he breathed with passionate desire, and before Appleby could say anything in response, Bacchus climbed onto his back. His dark brown cock, slick with precum, slid through the ass groove between Appleby's muscular buttocks, while his brown hands grabbed his master's strong shoulders and held on for dear life. First Bacchus purred with pleasure deep in his throat, but as his thrusts increased in energy an animal grunting, "Unh unh unh unh" took over. Mark Appleby was now sandwiched between his two thirteen year old slave boys. All reason and restraint were gone. Returning his attention to the boy beneath him, Appleby moved both hands to his head, cupping his scalp and reveling in the feel of the crisp, springy peppercorn curls that covered it. He kissed and licked the boy's face, gently pulling the soft pillow of his nose between his lips, and then looked directly into the boy's eyes. He and Pan's eyes remained locked together, piercing deep into each other's secret, as they rutted together in heat, while Bacchus pumped his young butt like a locomotive engine to slide his cock in the slippery groove of his master's butt cheeks.
Pushing his torso up off of Pan with both hands, Appleby pushed harder into the boy slave's groin with his slick cock. Pan held his master's chest up with both palms open, his thumbs flicking at Appleby's rose colored nipples. Bacchus picked up the pace of his frantic humping, as he reached one arm around his maser's chest and with the other hand ran his fingers through his master's long, soft hair, marveling at its silky texture, so different from anything he had ever known. For perhaps a minute the three held this position, pushing into each other with furious passion.
"Oh, Master, Oh Master, Oh.. Ooooooooo!" cried Bacchus. Appleby could feel Bacch's whole body spasm with the pleasure of his orgasm, and what felt like a lake of warm fluid began spreading across Appleby's back as his slave shot great gouts of white cum between them. Bacchus wrapped both arms around Appleby's heaving chest and pull tight as he continued bucking. When the last shudder had run through the boy's body, he rolled off to the side of the bed. Appleby also rolled off in that direction, lying on his back between his two boy slaves, moving Pan with him in one fluid motion. Pan was now lying on top of his master, cocks grinding together, but not for long. Appleby grasped Pan just at the base of the butt, just where his strong brown thighs began, and with one long pull moved the boy's entire body up in the direction of his head. Scrambling to keep from hitting the headboard of the four-poster bed, Pan grasped the wood with both hands at the same time that his long, slim brown penis slid into his master's mouth. Gasping with surprise and pleasure--for he never dreamed that a white man would do such a thing--Pan began pumping his cock in and out of his master's mouth.
Appleby was overwhelmed with this new experienced and sucked hard on his boy slave's dick. The sweet salty taste of precum filled his mouth. Each of his hands cupped one of the firm brown bubbles of the boy's ass and with the rhythm that Pan set, helped to pump his loins back and forth, pistoning the boy's dick within his mouth. Suddenly, a moment of sweetness that Appleby had never felt before and never expected to feel overcame him. Bacchus, recovered from his wild orgasm, had flopped over onto his master and taken the deep pink, slick cock fully into his own mouth. Sucking hard, he bobbed his head up and down, fighting down the need to gag when the rampant cock touched the back of his throat.
Suddenly, with an animal wail in no language ever heard, Pan slammed his pelvis hard against his master's face, mashing his master's nose and upper lip with his wiry pubic hair, and began shooting great ropes of semen down his master's throat. He pulled his cock halfway out of his master's mouth, then slammed forward again, hard. Appleby had given no thought to this moment, caught up in passion as he was, so he had given himself no time to be squeamish about it. Giving way to the intensity of Pan's frantic slamming into his face, Appleby swallowed frantically, nearly taking the hooded tip of Pan's cock down his throat. Then, just as the slave boy's buckings ceased, his peppercorn pubic hair pressed firmly against his master's nose, Appleby felt something unimaginably strong begin to move through him. Called by the powerful sucking and bobbing of Bacchus, it was not just an orgasm. Years of denial and longing boiled up in his chest, moved through his heaving belly, and erupted out of his iron-hard cock into the mouth of his slave boy. Bacchus grunted with pleasure and satisfaction and pushed his face aggressively into the soft pubic hairs of his master, taking the explosive flood of white cum that was erupting from the penis he held in his mouth. Appleby, his mouth full of Pan's hard, still penis, could only roar deep down in his throat, moaning like a wild beast at the moment of its death.
It seemed to last forever, but eventually a peace descended upon the man and his boys there on the bed. Pan slipped his penis, now wilting slightly, out of his master's mouth, slid down along Appleby's side, and flopped one arm over his master's chest. Bacchus swallowed the last of his master's cum, licked the penis clean, and stretched out on the other side from Pan, putting his arm around his master's belly. One arm around the back of each slave boy, Appleby pulled them tight to him and stared straight up. Silently, tears of relief and release welled up and overflowed his eyes, running down his cheeks. But what came out of his chest and mouth was a deep, hearty laugh. He was rewarded with answering giggles from each boy, and each boy softly rubbed and patted his chest and belly. Turning to the left and then to the right, he planted a loving kiss on the kinky hair at the top of each boy's scalp, as they each snuggled in closer to their master. Now utterly exhausted and at peace, Mark Appleby drifted away into sleep.