Date: Sat, 28 May 2005 14:06:50 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Toby and Venus

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.....

comments welcome:  lokiaga@prodigy.net