Date: Mon, 12 Jul 2004 07:39:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Seaward Plantation war clouds 2

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.