Date: Tue, 20 Jul 2004 07:30:04 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Seaward Plantation war clouds 4

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 four

Mornings were always a favorite time for Mark Appleby.  The
air was fresh, the light was new, and everything seemed
possible.  He needed that feeling this morning.  Gently
disentangling himself from Troy's arms, he slipped out of
bed, naked, to stand at his window.  He could just make out
some patches of sea through the leaves, he thought.  The
trees had grown since his arrival on Seaward eleven years
ago and now hid the view even as they protected the house
from the wind.

A deep sigh shook Appleby's body as he looked out.  No armed
forces from the mainland had landed in the night, so perhaps
Marcus's escapade of the day before, stowing away on board
the Harmony and then wandering through town, had not done
any harm.  In the morning light it seemed less like the end
of the world than it had yesterday, although still quite a
serious matter.  But Appleby knew from his own childhood
memories that an obsession once conceived in the mind of a
child was difficult to turn away, and he feared for the
future.  The future of the island, state, and nation were
fearful as well.  Doing a quick calculation he realized that
it was March 1, 1861--in three more days Abraham Lincoln
would be inaugurated as president, and what then?

These musings were interrupted by a soft sound at the
doorway.  "Good morning," whispered Bundit, evidently just
arisen from bed, standing naked in the doorway.  The Siamese
man looked over at Troy, still asleep on the bed, then back
at Appleby with a smile.  When Appleby smiled back, he
stepped quietly into the room and up to the white man's
side.  Bundit stretched an arm around Appleby's waist and
leaned his head into his side.  Appleby tucked him in under
his arm, burying his face in the Siamese man's thick, black
wings of hair.

"Master Mark... I wanted to say I'm really sorry about
Marcus," he whispered.  "I didn't know he was going to go, I
would never have encouraged him to do that."

"Oh, I know that Bundit, I know.  I don't blame you at all.
I know why you are restless on the island.  And Marcus.... I
suppose all the boys and some of the girls will feel the way
he does, wanting to see the world beyond Seaward. But
Bundit... he can't go, he just can't.  He would be taken,
you know that," Appleby whispered urgently.

"Well.... I think he is too young to go now.  But master,
some day....  if he is really free, he has to be free to
take chances.  He has to be free to fail.  You... we... have
to let him go if he is free, master."

Appleby squeezed Bundit in tighter, massaging his shoulder
as the Siamese man hugged back, his arm around Appleby's
middle.  "I don't know, Bundit, I don't know.  How can he be
free to judge if he doesn't really know what it is that he
is judging about?  He thought it was a grand lark to strut
around passing as white in Charleston yesterday.  I think
maybe he did not go by the slave markets, though.  You know
Bundit... I could never figure out a way to free Portia and
Cassius legally without raising lawyer Smith's suspicions.
That means that they are still legally slaves.... and then
so are Marcus... and Wat."

Bundit's eyes flashed at that, and he became thoughtful.  If
he had known that dismal fact, he was only now facing its
full implications.  Even though all the adults loved and
cared for all the children on Seaward as parents, those with
biological ties could not help but feel a little extra
connection.... and Wat was surely Bundit's son.  "I had not
thought of that, I guess," said Bundit.  Then he shook
himself.  "I don't know... maybe you are right.  It is so
hard to know what to do."

The two smiled at each other for a while.  Then Bundit
swallowed hard and continued in a whisper.  "But master....
I have decided what I must do for myself.  I need to go see
the world again, master.  I promise I will come back.
Seaward is my home now.  Wat.... Wat is special to me, as
Marcus is to you... you know, master.  But I must go to sea
again for just a little while.  Maybe just to sign on with a
merchantman going up the coast or to the islands and back,
just a few months.  If there is a war coming, then I need to
do it soon while I still can.  And master... maybe if I am
gone away for a while Marcus will not think about wandering
quite so much."

Appleby looked deep into Bundit's lovely, almond shaped,
dark eyes.  He turned to face him and scooped him into
himself with a two armed hug, planting a kiss on his
forehead, then held his shoulders as he looked at him again.
He saw determination in those eyes as well as sorrow.  For a
moment he thought that he should persuade the others to join
him in simply forbidding Bundit to go... the Siamese man
would need the help of others to get to Charleston, after
all.  But the truth of what Bundit had said earlier banished
that thought right away.  He loved the Siamese man so much
that he would agree with his desire to go, even though he
was sure Bundit was headed for disaster.  Appleby just
nodded, then pulled Bundit in tight again.

"Are the two of you going to share any of that?" asked a
sleepy voice from the bed.  Appleby and Bundit, startled,
turned to look at Troy, who was propped up on an elbow in
the bed.  Looking back at each other, they realized they
were both naked, morning semi-erections pressing against
each other--but they truly had not noticed in the serious
emotions of the moment.  "Maybe... maybe you should tell
Troy, too," said Appleby.

His half-hard penis bobbing, Bundit walked over and sat by
the side of the bed, next to Troy.  "Troy, I... I was
telling Master Mark that I feel I have to go.  I have to go
to sea again.  I promise to be back... how could I not come
back?.... but I need to go."

Troy looked at him seriously, still rubbing sleep from his
eyes.  "Really, truly?" he asked?  Bundit nodded.  "Today?"
Bundit shook his head and smiled, replying, "No, but soon."
Troy nodded and thought for a moment, then said,
"Alright.... then you have time this morning to do this,"
and grabbing the Siamese man in both arms he rolled him over
onto the bed as both of them laughed softly.  Troy kicked
down the sheets to reveal his own morning erection.  He
looked at Appleby, winked and nodded, and the white man
stepped up to the bed and slid onto the other side of
Bundit.

Bundit lay on his back in the middle, a white man and a
black man on either side, lying on their sides facing him.
Appleby rubbed gentle circles on Bundit's belly, while Troy
rubbed his chest, then ran his hands through his hair and
lightly kissed his forehead, eyelids, nose, and rosebud
lips.  "Mmmm... Bundit.... When you go what will we do when
we want to run our fingers through thick black hair like
this," asked Troy, as he did so, "or see beautiful eyes
shaped like these," as he kissed them, "or such a pink, full
mouth as this," as he planted his own luscious dark plum
lips over Bundit's.  At that point the Asian could only sigh
and kiss back, wrapping his own arms around Troy's back as
he turned on his side to face the strong black man.  He ran
his tan and golden fingers through Troy's thick skullcap of
kinky hair, sucking the black man's full lips and then
giving his own ripe mouth to be kissed, tongued, and sucked.
Arms around each other, they pulled their bodies in tight as
their penises, now stiffly erect and pointing straight up in
alignment with their bellies, batted and slid together.

Appleby had not felt the least bit left out, in fact the
sight of the black and the Asian man coupling in this way
was powerfully exciting to him.  He pulled himself into
Bundit's back, his erect penis sliding in its own track of
precum between the Siamese man's ass cheeks.  Troy's hands
slid down between his belly and Bundit's back, while his own
white hands slid in between his friends' bellies, tweaking
nipples and massaging pads of muscles.  Sliding up and down
on Bundit's belly, Appleby encountered the black and the
Asian dicks, tight together, leaking a film of precum.
Grasping both cockheads in his hand, he squeezed the
together, then encircling them as much as possible he slid
his hand up and down.  Troy's longer, larger dick pushed up
above Bundit's penis as Appleby's hands flew.  Appleby
shifted to put the slick head of his own dick against
Bundit's anus.  He pushed the slightest bit into the
unlubricated hole and then held his dick there as it oozed
precum into the Asian asshole.  Bundit moaned, his mouth
covered with Troy's large, plum lips, but did not object.

Breathing from all three became heavier, hands scrabbling
and tugging on backs, shoulders, clenching ass muscles.
Appleby maintained a steady pressure on Bundit's hole,
oiling it with his flow of clear slime.  Bundit threw his
top leg over Troy's hip.  He could pull Troy's groin even
tighter into his own now, but he also opened up his own ass
for Appleby's conquest.  The white man's stiff, throbbing
rod pressed even tighter now, and Appleby pressed into the
open area around the pink Asian asshole.  His dickhead,
lubricating its own way, pushed and pushed...then popped
into the hole as Bundit relaxed.  The Siamese moaned again,
still unable to speak with Troy's tongue in his mouth.
Appleby paused, but his hand in between the black and Asian
men was sliding up and down, squeezing the heads of their
cocks in its passage.  As soon as Bundit ceased moaning,
Appleby began pushing again, and in slow stages had as much
of his stiff red cock as possible landed inside the Asian
man with no other lubrication than his own copious flow of
precum.

Appleby buried his face in the thick, jet black wings of the
Asian man's hair, then shifted to nuzzle his ear through the
hair, to bite the ear and neck, leaving red shadows on the
persimmon colored skin.  One hand around the joined dicks
between Bundit and Troy, Appleby reached his other hand up
over Bundit to caress the top of Troy's head, enjoying the
thick, dense, scratchy texture of his kinky hair, rubbing
through the tight, tiny curls with sheer enjoyment.  Bundit
and Troy were now bucking and clenching their hips in time
to Appleby's pumping, while Appleby was pounding Bundit's
ass as hard as he could lying on his side.  The Asian and
black man remained locked at the lips, sharing breath
through their noses, sharing tongues and spit.

Bundit came first, moaning quite loudly, snorting fiercely
through his nose.  With no space to really pump his hips, he
simply clenched his ass tightly, pulling himself into Troy,
and spewed out his cum in between his own tan and gold belly
and chest and Troy's dark chocolate torso.  The tight,
sustained contraction of his bottom as he pushed his sperm
out put Appleby over the edge.  The white man cried out and,
pulling himself into the tangle of bodies, pushed his penis
into Bundit and held it, shooting ropes of cum up into the
Asian butt.  The white and the Asian man struggled like that
for a minute, gasping for breath, pushing their semen out--
and then Troy came.  Breaking off from Bundit's mouth he
roared and pushed up into the gold and brown chest of the
Asian man, his longer and larger penis sending spurts of
semen up between the two to splash against his and Bundit's
necks and chins.  Semen flowed from his pulsing dick to mix
with Bundit's in the warm space between their smooth,
sliding skins.

Ragged, seething breath slowly returned to normal.  Hands
slid over skin and caressed faces, smiles and whispers
passed from one to another.  "Now," said Troy softly, "won't
you miss that?"  Bundit chuckled softly.  "Yes, I will.  I
will miss you, and master, and everybody.  I will miss Wat
and the other children.  But.... I will be back."  The three
men hugged each other tight, seemingly unwilling to let go
out of fear for a larger letting-go soon to come.  But the
moment passed and the sun was up, and time to begin the day.

Sounds of splashing from downstairs indicated the start of
bath time for those who bathed in the mornings.  The three
men tidied up the room, agreeing to slip downstairs to clean
themselves as they could.  At the moment it sounded as if
Apple, Rain, and Moss were all in there together.  Athena's
exasperated voice could be heard over the splashing and
giggling.  That noise eventually passed, so Troy slipped
downstairs with his clothing to bathe and follow Athena to
their cabin.  Appleby and Bundit sat sociably on the edge of
Appleby's bed, still naked, discussing Bundit's plans and
hopes.

In a few minutes Troy shouted up the stairs that he was
done.  Bundit encouraged Appleby to go next, so he walked
down the hallway, naked.  The other bedroom doors were
closed; Cassius, Hector, and the twins were either asleep,
enjoying an intimate moment, or up and about early.  Going
down the stairs and into the bath room, Appleby pumped
another tub full and added some hot water from the kettle on
the small stove.  Sinking into the warm water, he began
lathering and scrubbing.  The slamming sound of a door to
the verandah could be heard, then in the hallway the
drumming of feet.  Wat pelted headlong into the bath room
clutching a towel and change of clothing.

"Oh!  Hi, Papa Mark!" he said cheerily, a sunny smile
crinkling up his almond eyes, his mop of raven black, loose
curls bouncing from his own internal energy.  "Mama said
Marcus and I have to take a bath!" he declared, and with no
further ceremony shed his clothes and approached the tub.
"May I get in, too, Papa?" he asked.  Nearly done, Appleby
smiled at the boy and welcomed him in.  Over the side and
into the water the boy slid, settling in with his back to
Appleby.

The white man gently scrubbed the boy's back, admiring the
light brown and golden tone of his skin, now shining with
water.  On an island of many colors, features, and hair
textures, Wat was certainly the most diverse, a glorious and
beautiful mix of African, white, and Siamese.  Despite--or
because of?--having enjoyed sex with the boy's father in the
last half hour, Appleby's penis began to swell again.  The
way the squirming boy wriggled back against his groin did
not help matters.  The slamming of the verandah door again
broke the spell, however.  More drumming of feet, and Marcus
burst into the bath room

"Oh, you started!" he said, looking at Wat.  Then, "Oh!
Hello, Papa Mark," he said, contritely hanging his head.
Appleby beckoned him to come close.  The man reached his
wet, soapy arm out and hugged the boy to him as a token of
forgiveness for his behavior of the day before.  "Come on
in, Marcus," he said with a smile, "I'm just getting out."
The boy was quicker than he was, though, and soon bared his
light tan skin entirely.  Appleby noticed the presence of no
more than four or five black, snaking pubic hairs above
Marcus's penis; the lad must be sliding along into puberty.
He slid into the tub between Wat and Appleby.  The contact
with the water-slick, firm young bodies was pleasurable for
Appleby, but he knew he should break this off before
anything more dramatic happened--there was a lot to do
around the island today.  He rose from the water, his
reddish penis half-erect.  The boys giggled as they saw it,
squirming around in the tub.  Wat reached up and gave it a
light squeeze purely out of curiosity, then smiled at the
"Papa" and let go.  Appleby stepped out of the tub, smiling
back at the boys, and dried off.  He was just leaving the
bath room, naked, to go up the stairs, when Portia came down
the hall.  She gave his body a frank and appreciative stare-
-she and the white man had shared many intimacies and held
no secrets from each other.

"They are both in the tub," he told her, kissing her lightly
on the lips, then smiling back at her walked up the stairs.
She returned the smile and went in to the bath room.  A few
minutes later he was dressed and back down the stairs, where
he found Bundit ensconced in the tub even as Portia was
drying off the boys and getting them dressed.

A quick breakfast was shared with Bundit, who came into the
dining room a few minutes later, and then the two men were
off to the new bath room project.  They found that the other
men were already there, laying a new floor and framing up
the walls.  As they worked, Bundit casually shared his plans
to be off to sea, an announcement that was met with sorrow
by all, but good wishes for his safe traveling and speedy
return.  When pressed as to when he would go, he was
noncommittal, since he wanted to do his part to prepare
Seaward for the coming troubles.

As the men were working on the new bath room, they heard the
sound of a ship's whistle coming from the western side of
the island.  The usual mix of curiosity, fear, and hope
spread through every resident of the island.  Especially
during these troubled times, visitors could not but be
perceived as a threat.  But news or goods from the mainland
or from far away parts were always a treat.  Appleby
suspected it was the latter.  Taking just Pan and Bacchus
with him to investigate, he led the way across the lawn and
meadow and down to the pier.  On the way, nine year old Rain
and the eight year old twins, Frederick and Douglass, joined
them, running ahead and now behind, in and out of the party.
Appleby momentarily had a notion to send them back in case
there were some sort of danger on the shore, but the
children seemed so free and happy that he did not have the
heart to do it.

Standing just off the island was a steam vessel, a sort of
ungainly looking tug with stern paddles.  She was pushing
ahead of her a kind of raft with low sides, a floating
rectangular box.  On the raft was a high, rounded pile
covered with tarpaulins.

"Oh!" exclaimed Appleby, "it's from one of yesterday's
orders.  The Harmony will be very pleased," he said
mysteriously.  Pan and Bacchus looked curiously at Appleby,
then smiled and shrugged at each other. "How can a ship be
happy, Papa Mark?" asked Douglass.  "Wait, you'll see," he
replied.  Waving to the vessel, Appleby indicated where the
raft was wanted.  Slowly, slowly, the vessel chugged
forward, nudging the raft carefully toward the pier.  The
last few yards the ponderous raft floated toward the pier
and it seemed as if its weight might crush it--then Appleby
did send the three children back off of the pier and to the
shore.  But the crew of the vessel had the situation under
control:  they tightened ropes still holding the raft to
slow its progress.  At last, expertly managed, the raft
slowly drifted into the pier with a bump and Appleby, Pan,
and Bacchus secured it to the wooden uprights.  They waved
to the steam vessel which whistled in response and then
reversed its paddles to turn around and return to
Charleston.

Leaping onto the raft, Appleby untied a corner of the tarps
covering the load and with a flourish whisked it back
revealing--a great pile of coal!  "This should last us a
good, long time; it is fuel for the Harmony's boilers," he
said.  The men and children nodded their approval, but after
all, it was hardly an exciting delivery!

Their disappointment would be relieved over the next few
days, however, as more supplies began arriving from the
mainland.  Now empowered to fortify the island, Appleby was
able to order large supplies of powder and shot to be
delivered directly from Charleston, which it was.  Other
vessels brought out staple supplies such as grains, cloth,
hardware, and other building materials.  The Harmony and the
Hesperus were both pressed into service to go out and be
loaded from the visiting ships, returning to the pier laden
with cargo that the people of Seaward carried back up to
storage barns.  Powder and shot was stored in the stone
armories until they could hold no more.

News also came from the mainland, on the mail boat and by
way of gossip with the crews of the visiting cargo ships.
Talk of secession was everywhere.  Many of the southern
states had already formed a "confederacy" in December of
1860, and resolutions of secession and nullification had
been passed as recently as the previous month, February of
the current year--but so far no real, violent break among
the States had occurred, so far as they knew.  There was
preparation for war on every side, and the subject certainly
preoccupied public attention in the South.

Such was the atmosphere on Seaward as its people intensified
preparations that had been underway since shortly after
Appleby had arrived on the island.  Participating fully in
the work, Bundit had not talked of departing for a few
weeks, and Appleby was hoping that the thought had left his
mind.  However, he still occasionally found Bundit on the
cemetery hill, looking out to sea, and--worse--found Marcus
sitting with him.

Two deliveries brought home, again, the seriousness of their
situation.  On one trip into Charleston, the Harmony came
back with a load of crates that Appleby took possession of
at a cargo office in the port.  His face a mixture of
seriousness and delight in a surprise, Appleby would not
reveal the contents to Troy and Priam until the Harmony had
returned to the island and the crates were carried up to the
storage barn.  As the people of the island gathered round,
Appleby began opening the crates one by one.  From one he
pulled a gun:  a shoulder arm, longer than a pistol but not
as long as the muskets they were used to.

"My friends, behold!  A Sharps New Model carbine.  No more
having to ram powder, ball, and wadding down the barrel of a
musket.  These," he said, breaking open the rifle near the
trigger, to the surprise of the group, "shoot these," he
continued, pulling from another crate an odd looking packet.
"These are linen 'cartridges,' they contain all the powder
and a bullet.  The claim is that a skilled marksman can fire
ten rounds a minute with these."  Everybody looked at each
other in astonishment.  They were all quite proficient with
the muskets and shotguns that were the previous armament for
the island, but ten rounds a minute!  It was unheard of.
"And my friends," continued Appleby, "we WILL all become
skilled marksmen with them."  The group nodded its
determined agreement.

"And these," he said, proceeding to another crate, "is the
new Smith & Wesson model 2 tip up revolver.  The latest
thing.  A handheld pistol, as you can see, firing this," and
here he reached into another crate to bring out another
design of cartridge, metal this time.  "For close-in
fighting, should it ever come to that."  The group looked
serious at the thought.  "Well, my friends, these are the
very latest things, and I assure you better than the South
Carolina militia will have.  They will give us some
advantage--but we hope that it never comes to that."
Everyone heartily agreed.

It was during this busy period that Marcus turned eleven,
briefly to be "the same age" as Apple.  Birthdays were
celebrated quietly on Seaward, and this was no exception.
Appleby took the boy aside and had an earnest talk with him
about responsibility, the need to behave in ways
commensurate with his new age.  Marcus nodded gravely, but
Appleby wondered whether he were preaching to the air.

About a week after the small arms arrived, Seaward's air was
disturbed by another ship's whistle off of the western
shore.  Appleby had an idea of what it was, and gathered all
the men of the island to come with him.  Most of the
children and some of the women came as well.  Arriving at
the pier, a large merchantman stood off the shore, and a
crane on the deck was in the process of being put to working
order.  Appleby asked that the Harmony's boiler be fired up
immediately.  As soon as it was ready it made its way out to
the ship and had lowered onto its deck a cannon.  Returning
to the pier, the cannon was unloaded with some difficulty
onto the pier, and then as people (and a donkey in harness)
hauled it up the pier and onto the land, the Harmony
returned--twice more, for a total of three.

The whole day was spent in situating these formidable
weapons where they would do the most good.  They were twelve-
pounders, as was the small cannon that could be mounted on
the deck of the Harmony, so that the same shot could be used
interchangeably.  Anything larger would be too difficult to
move by the efforts of man and beast, which was all they had
on Seaward.  Also, although not as powerful as a larger
twenty-four pound or thirty-two pound cannon would be, the
twelve-pounders would have adequate range to deter hostile
forces attempting to land.  But where to put them?

Priam wondered aloud whether one each should be placed on
the northern, southern, and western sides of the island; the
east was naturally guarded by rocks and reefs, now marked by
buoys.  Bundit had a different suggestion:  "Priam... Master
Mark.... I suggest that we put all three of the cannon here
on the western side.  Then let us take some of the extra
buoys we have in storage and anchor them around the northern
and southern tips of the island."

"But Bundit, there are no dangerous rocks on the northern
and southern tips," objected Troy.

The Siamese man smiled broadly and winked.  "I know that.
You know that.  Do they," he said, nodding toward the
mainland, "know that?  If you were captain of a ship, would
you risk running by a buoy that might mark a reef?  I would
not.  If we can fool people into letting 'nature' defend
three sides of Seaward, the cannon can defend the third,
western side."  Everyone saw the sense in this, and worked
out a plan to achieve it.  The cannon were hauled inland far
enough to be on somewhat elevated ground, and were pointed
westward, covering the approaches to the pier.  They were
still within sight of one another, however, until covered
over with camouflaging branches and canvas.  In the end,
after some work, three formidable cannon pointed out toward
Charleston on the western side of Seaward, while buoys
signaling danger--whether truthfully or not--ringed all
other approaches to the island.

It had long been the practice at Seaward to engage in musket
and shotgun practice during thunderstorms.  Now the group
began practicing with their new carbines and pistols as
well, and during the first really spectacular thunderstorm
they uncovered the cannon.  All adults were well trained on
using the small twelve-pounder on board the Harmony, so the
principles they had learned were easily adaptable to using
the new shore batteries.  Wrapping their heads with cloth so
as to cover and protect their ears, the community had soon
mastered the cannons and were learning techniques of
accuracy.  March of 1861 ended, April rolled around, and the
uneasy land watched and waited to see what would transpire.
Word from the mainland was that federal forces in the area
had withdrawn from some of the forts and facilities around
Charleston and were concentrating their efforts in Fort
Sumter, sitting in the middle of the harbor, despite its
somewhat unfinished condition.

During all these preparations, the adults were careful to
keep the children fully informed of the hopes and perils of
Seaward.  In one sense it was easy to remain a child for a
long time on Seaward--witness Pan's and Bacchus's spirits
that were, in the healthiest possible ways, childlike.  On
the other hand, the freedom that children were given was
coupled with a need to mature and accept responsibility.
Different adults reacted to the dilemma in different ways.
Appleby knew that he often erred on the side of not letting
go, of keeping a tighter tether on the children than he
should--although of course, Marcus's longing to leave the
island was still there as a reminder of what could happen if
children were given entirely free rein.

One incident during this period of preparation highlighted
the difficulties Appleby was having with balancing the
demands of freedom and control concerning the children.  He
had entered the loft of the storage barn so as to take
inventory of some of their stock, in preparation for a trip
to Charleston.  Walking soundlessly on the sturdy floor, he
could hear voices from the ground floor below him.  Locating
the general area of the sound, he saw some small gaps
between the thick floor boards through which he could look
down below and yet not be seen.  Out of curiosity he
stretched out on the floor of the loft and put his eye to
one of these gaps.  What he saw affected him strongly.

Two sisters were just slipping off their simple dresses:
nearly-twelve-year-old Apple and her sister, nine year old
Rain.  The older girl strongly resembled her Aunt Helen, and
Appleby's mind returned in a flash to their first intimate
encounter on the eastern shore of Seaward when Helen was
about the same age.  Apple's skin was a luxurious dark
chocolate.  Small, orange sized breasts were mounded on a
muscular chest.  Her body was trim, with that beautiful
African flow of long and rounded muscles.  The beginnings of
a swelling of her pelvis gave a more feminine contour to her
high, rounded bottom.  A tiny patch of kinky hair sat above
the triangle between her thighs.  Jet black hair in
intricate braids hung down to her shoulders.  Thinking of
that first experience years ago with Helen, who swam around
him in the sea and then grasped his penis in pleasure and
curiosity, Appleby's organ began to swell.

Rain's body was more boyish.  Only the area just around her
dark brown nipples was beginning to swell, pushing up small
points of flesh.  Her hair, which was in loose black curls,
and her light milk chocolate color on flawless, smooth skin
made it clear that Cassius was her biological father.  Her
body was boyish--that of a boy's without a penis--a thin
tube of sculpted muscular flesh with a nicely rounded
bottom.

Then Appleby's attention was drawn, as he shifted position
to gaze through the gap in the floor, to the girls'
companions:  his own son Marcus and his brother, Bundit's
son Wat!  The boys had been watching the sisters undress and
now began to do so themselves, perhaps with a little bit of
shy reluctance.  Nakedness was nothing new to the children
of the island, but this nakedness clearly portended a more
intimate encounter--for the first time?  Probably not--
physical freedom was the norm on the island, and everyone
was fully aware of the encounters that their friends had
with one another.

Grinning at one another, the four stood regarding each
others' physical perfection for a moment.  Appleby could see
Marcus's mop of light brown curls and Wat's similarly shaped
head of jet black curls.  His groin continued to swell as he
drank in the smooth flawless skin of each boy, Marcus's
light tan and Wat's gold and medium brown.  Already each boy
sported a stiff little erection, of course with Marcus's
being more prominent.  The four admired each other for a
moment--with girls admiring girls and boys admiring boys as
much as the other way around--and then, still standing,
merged into a knot of hugs, tentative kisses, and gentle
fondlings.

Appleby rolled over on his back, a tangle of emotions in his
chest.  The Bostonian parent in him wanted to rush right
down and tell the children to behave.  He realized that the
presence in the group of his own flesh, Marcus, intensified
that feeling.  But the freedom and license everyone enjoyed
on Seaward reminded him that the children were likewise free
to do as they wished.  And... undeniably, his own flesh
responded to the unfolding scene below.  Was it wrong to
admire such physical beauty and the forces of nature that
moved through them?  Was it right to deny the evidence of
that force of nature in himself?  Unable to resist, he
rolled back over, his erection now straining within his
trousers, to see what developed.

Somewhat to his surprise, he saw that the girls were
standing by each other, gently and tentatively exploring
each other's vaginas with fingers--fingers either moistened
by their own spit or, in Apple's case, by a natural, light
flow of fluids.  The boys were doing likewise:  lying on the
floor beside the girls, they were lying with faces to
genitals, gently exploring each others' penises and tight
little ballsacks.  Appleby could see that Marcus's medium
brown scrotum was larger and more filled than Wat's dark
little package.  Could it be that he was able by now to make
semen?  Pulling and rubbing each other's penises inexpertly,
the boys tentatively and then enthusiastically swallowed up
those cocks, sucking and bobbing their heads, light brown or
jet black curls bouncing.

Appleby no longer knew whether it was wrong or not--he
pulled his own throbbing member out of his trousers and
began rubbing it, a string of precum flowing from it onto
the floor of the loft.  Down below, the youngsters had
shifted.  Apple lay down beside Wat, stretching her dark
chocolate body out next to his chocolate and honey flesh.
The two grappled, exploring the feel of touch.  Then they
kissed, inexpertly, lightly at first and then with greater
effort if not greater skill.  Meanwhile, Rain had rolled
Marcus onto his back.  Sitting on top of his stiff little
penis, she moved her hips back and forth to make his cock
slide against her clitoris.  He smiled up at her and moved
his hands up and down on her milk chocolate belly, gently
tweaking her protuberant, pointed nipples.  Then in a flash,
Rain switched around and lowered her boyish crotch over
Marcus's face while she instantly bent over his wooden
penis, taking it into her mouth.  Appleby could hear a gasp
of surprise from Marcus--was this a new position for him,
perhaps even one he had not previously witnessed?  Evidently
his surprise was overcome by the passion of the moment, for
Appleby could see his boyish arms wrap around the slim, even
more boyish hips and rounded bottom of Rain.  The girl's
pelvis began rolling and circling ever so slightly in
response to whatever it was that Marcus's lips and tongue
were doing below.

Appleby's hand increased the pressure and speed with which
he was pumping his own organ.  Then the four below
reorganized themselves.  Rain scrambled over next to Wat,
while Apple rolled over onto her back next to Marcus and,
reaching over, tugged at his shoulder to pull him on top of
her.  Wat, observing his brother's progress, followed suit,
tentatively copying his actions.  Both girls spread their
legs revealing vaginas now moistened internally or by
saliva.  The boys positioned themselves side by side between
the girls' legs, pressing their penises into place, and
pushed.  Appleby could hear light gasps from the girls, but
this was probably not their first time to receive a boy in
this way, and Marcus and Wat were soon fully inserted, as
far as the short lengths of their penises would allow.

The boys' hips now began to buck and thrash in and out as
they opened this new chapter of the primer on sexual
pleasure that we all learn to read.  Slipping out of their
partners repeatedly, changing positions and rhythms as they
explored the results of each new combination, all four were
gasping and giggling alternately.  Rain and Wat especially
looked to their older sibling for cues--cues which Marcus
and Apple were scarcely more expert to provide.  Then
Appleby could hear a change in Marcus's voice... "uhn, uhn,
uhn," in a rhythmic guttural grunting.  At the same time a
look of concentration came into Apple's eyes, which grew
wider as her full lips also opened in an "O."  Wat,
pistoning quickly in and out of Rain, and Rain herself,
looked to their siblings, aware that the moment was at hand.
Up in the loft, Appleby could sense his own orgasm
approaching as his hand slid up and down his rampant penis.

Marcus cried out in a high, boyish voice, pushing his penis
into Apple, quivering and shaking, breathing rapidly.  At
the same time Apple writhed, a look of surprise in her eyes,
as she called out "Oh! Oh!" while a wave of pleasure flowed
through her.  It was very quick for both, and then Marcus
slumped forward onto her.  Wat had stopped pumping entirely,
he and Rain watching the spectacle intently.  Appleby
guessed that the younger boy and girl were not going to
climax, and were finding vicarious pleasure in watching
their siblings.  Lying on top of Apple for just a moment,
Marcus pulled out quickly and rolled off to the side, his
stiff reddish brown penis wagging in the air--and trailing a
line of silver from Appleby's vagina!  Wat saw it first,
shouting "Oooo, look!"  He and Rain scrambled around to see
this discharge--could it have been a first for Marcus?--
while the boy himself looked in wonder at his own productive
organ, a huge smile of pride on his face.  Apple put her
fingers into her vagina and then pulled them back out,
showing a glistening fluid on them.  All four admired this
phenomenon for a while, and then, tired and replete, folded
into each other in a tangle, hugging and clutching, still
breathing heavily, a tight, still knot of many hues.

At that moment Appleby's own orgasm arrived.  Stifling the
urge to cry out, his torso clenched and his hip muscles
squeezed as his hand milked out ropes of semen from his
rampant penis.  Slowing his hand down, he saw the white
juice as it flowed onto the floor of the loft.  Looking down
through the gap in the floor, he saw the children were
still, floating on their own clouds of peace and content.
His ecstasy having passed, Appleby pushed his penis back
into his trousers, which he closed, and then took one last
look down below.

The tangled knot of young bodies was still there, resting
quietly, loose curls entangled with woolly tufts and tight
braids, dark chocolate on milk chocolate on golden chocolate
on light coffee.  Then Appleby saw a quick flash.... and
then another.  Something was slowly dropping down below....
dropping from above.  It was--could it be?--white?  A warm
drop splashed onto Apple's dark skin, then a few small drops
peppered Wat's golden brown back.  Twisting around, Appleby
saw what it was.  If there was a gap for him to look through
then there was likewise a gap for fluid to leak through, and
the small pond of semen he had discharged was now draining
through just such a gap onto the still young bodies below.
He quickly looked back down--they were resting still, but
how long could it be before they noticed the small, warm
drops raining here and there?  As quickly as quiet would
allow, Appleby sprang to his feet.  Down the ladder he crept
to land soundlessly on the floor of the barn below.  He was
just slipping out the door as he heard first one, then
another, then four cries of surprise from farther into the
barn.  Gasps of astonishment became interspersed with
giggles and whoops.  Appleby didn't know whether to laugh or
to be embarrassed.  The children would think that some
strange gift from the gods was being granted to them from
above--although they would surely know what the nectar was!
This confusion added to his tangle of emotions, and he
slipped out of the barn.

Walking through the grounds of Seaward to clear his
thoughts, Appleby came upon the vegetable plot.  There he
found Pan and Bacchus, the twenty-four year olds shirtless,
their sweat-slicked caramel brown skin shining in the sun as
they hoed and weeded the long rows of sprouting vegetables.
Greeting Appleby with smiles and waves, they stepped out of
the garden to lay their tools down.  The three settled on a
nearby bench, Appleby in the middle, one strong honey-brown
arm from each of the twins around his shoulders.  His tangle
of emotions began to unravel in the soothing presence of the
brightness that Pan and Bacchus perpetually radiated.  They
talked of the day's activities, of plans for the future, of
the weather.

A gap in the conversation ensued, as each black man
continued to caress the white man around his shoulders.
Appleby's thoughts returned to his recent musings.  He felt
he needed some advice, another perspective.

"Pan, Bacchus.... do you remember that first night I was
here on Seaward?"

"Oh, yes, I sure do," said Pan, "I think about it often.  It
was so nice.... I was the first one you kissed on Seaward,
Master Mark!" he said with pride.  "But I was the first one
to come with you--on you," interjected Bacchus, grinning,
"and the first to make you come"--  "and I was the first to
come in Master Mark's mouth" replied Pan.  All three were
laughing by then, and Appleby closed the "contest" by saying
"Alright, alright, you were both 'first!'"  He patted them
both on their muscular thighs as the three sat tightly,
companionably together.

"But Pan, Bacchus.... you were so young.  You were both
thirteen.  Was--was that wrong?  Should I have not touched
you at that age?  Should I have kept you from doing that,
even if you wanted to?"

The twins looked at each other and then at Appleby, a look
of puzzlement on their faces.  They were trying to
understand the question.  Eventually Bacchus spoke.
"Master... you didn't make us do anything, did you?"

"No.  But were you old enough to know what you were doing?"

"If we had said 'no,' or tried to get away, would you have
let us?--even though we were still your slaves then?"

"Of course I would never have forced you, Bacchus, you know
that."

"Well, sure we do," Pan added.  "Master... I just loved what
we did that night.  I loved you, too, even then, as I love
you now.  It was--it was natural, master."

"Sure," added Bacchus.  "I think... I think we could be
ourselves with you, and you could let us do that.  You....
you could see that we knew what we wanted even though we
were thirteen."  Pan nodded agreement.  "And we could see
what you wanted.  I don't know... I felt really proud to be
able to give a grown-up something like that.  Maybe... maybe
WE let YOU do all of that!"  Pan nodded again.

Appleby nodded, but felt he had to face, for his own sake,
the next question.  "So... so it was right because I gave
you both love and freedom?  Both physical pleasure and the
freedom to join me or not join me?  That was important to
you at thirteen?"  The twins nodded, smiling brilliantly,
then each laid his head of glorious springs and coils on the
white man's shoulder.  Their love rolled over him like a
healing balm.  But he had to press on.

"Pan, Bacchus... you know Bundit will be leaving Seaward.
Marcus says he wants to go also.  Should I let.... should WE
let him?"  Both heads came up and they looked at Appleby.  A
long moment of thought passed.

"Oh... oh, yeah.  I don't know, master," said Pan.  Bacchus
nodded, whispering "I don't know."   Pan continued.  "He's
eleven, just barely, not thirteen."  More moments of thought
passed.  Bacchus added:  "And he wants to go into the
mainland.  We just wanted to go into your mouth!"  All three
roared with laughter at that, but seriousness soon returned.
"It's a hard decision, master," added Pan.  "You wouldn't
give a baby freedom to toddle into the ocean."

"So," said Appleby, "I guess the question is, is Marcus
still a baby?  and is the mainland a comfortable bed, or is
it the stormy sea?"  Pan and Bacchus nodded thoughtfully.
Sitting there quietly on the bench in the cooling breeze of
the afternoon, the three pondered the weighty issue in
silence.