Date: Sat, 28 Jul 2012 16:10:53 -0400
From: lokiaga@austin.rr.com
Subject: Rue Dauphine 30

Rue Dauphine 30
Lance Kyle

Scott and the two boys, James and Sampson, woke up together in a tangle of
dark chocolate, cream, and mocha limbs.  There were the inevitable
erections, but also a need to pee, and so all three, laughing, scampered
into the hallway and into the shower bath, standing close together to
urinate down the toilet hole.  Of course, they left the door open in their
hurry.  That's why, when they turned around--erections now bobbing, arms
around each other, they found the new fugitive, the huge man Zeke, standing
in the hallway, wearing a sheet wrapped around him (his extra large
clothing was not yet dry from the wash), with a look of astonishment and
embarrassment on his face.

"Uh, Masta...I'se sorry, the other baths, they gettin' used, I...uh, sorry,
Masta," he mumbled, eyes wide, darting from one naked body to the next.
Most of their visitors had experienced this moment.  Scott and the boys
smoothly explained to him that this was their practice, explained the
freedom of the house to him, explained that both love and lust tempered
together governed what they did...and then up came Cloud and Adam, both
naked as the day they were born, with the unmistakable sign of wilting
erections, of fluid-slicked penises now subsiding from full staff.

Scott watched the man mountain Zeke carefully; the coal dark man's eyes
darted from one body to the next.  He was at the very least not repulsed.
He may have in fact been attracted, or at least intrigued.  Scott invited
him to use the toilet, which he did modestly, closing the door.  Thinking
quickly, Scott sent the boys back to the bedroom and leaned against the
wall opposite the door, waiting for Zeke to emerge.  Cloud and Adam,
sensing what was up, slipped away to another shower bath.  So when Zeke
emerged, wrapping the sheet around him, there was a naked Scott, smiling at
him, leaning against the wall, his penis half erect.  Zeke stopped and
muttered "Masta!" again, his eyes transfixed on the white man's body.

"Perhaps you may have some questions about our community here and what we
do," he said.  "The boys have gone back to the bed we shared last night;
would you like to join us and talk about it?"  Zeke gulped, now risked a
direct stare into Scott's eyes, overcoming a rule that had been drilled
into him since birth.  Scott smiled as a moment passed.  Then Zeke looked
down and murmured, "Awright, Masta."

"Good, it's just in here," said Scott, now putting his arm around the man
mountain's shoulder, and casually steering him into the bedroom.  The boys
were both squatting on their haunches on the bed, facing each other,
casually holding each other's penises.  They smiled at Zeke and invited him
in.  Scott sat on the bed, his penis now bouncing, and patting the bed he
invited Zeke to sit also.  The bed creaked a little as the large black man
did so.

"Most of us express our love and our sexuality with men and women, girls
and boys.  Some prefer one over the other, but we all make ourselves free
to all others.  It is...we think it is a beautiful way to live.  Although
at the moment most of the women and girls are in the early stages of
pregnancy, so the men are content with enjoying one another."  Zeke nodded
and shifted so as to take into view the two boys, who still gently and
slowly stroked each other.  "But nobody MUST do anything here, Zeke," said
Scott, and you have no obligation to do or not to do.  It is entirely up to
you.  We find that our guests...other fugitives in the past such as
yourself...have both joined and not joined us."  Zeke nodded again, licking
his lips a little nervously, still eyeing the boys, now looking again at
Scott's dusky rose penis which was in full erection.

Sampson turned to Zeke, not releasing James's stiff rod, and happily
trilled, "I'm both black and white, I came from Master Scott's color and
from James's...and your...color.  But my penis is darker than the rest of
my skin, don't you think?"  And here he shifted over the foot or two it
took to get to Zeke.  Boldly, but gently, he lifted the dark man's hand and
placed it on his medium brown, twelve year old erection.  Zeke allowed him
to do so and sighed heavily, closed his eyes and gulped, looking from his
hand around the boy's rod to Scott, to the boy's face.  James, a foot or
two behind, giggled.

Then Zeke began slowly pumping as well, Sam pushing his young groin
forward.  Even beneath the sheet that Zeke wore, a bulge was beginning to
form.  Gently, casually, Scott stood up and stepped beside Zeke, putting
his hand around his shoulder again, his penis now bobbing just a foot away
from the black man.  "May I do that same thing for you?" he asked gently,
and gave an experimental tug on the sheet.  Zeke paused for a moment,
seeming to make a decision, and then took the plunge.  Releasing Sam for a
moment he half rose and tore the sheet off himself, casting it on the
floor.

He was big but not grotesquely huge--yet definitely bigger than King, who
might claim the prize in the house hitherto.  His midnight black penis was
proportional to his body and his body was a heavily muscled mass.  His
organ became instantly rigid and he remained standing, but reached over and
seized Sampson again.  Both boys were ogling him in awe, seeing what they
had seen the previous day when they helped him with his first shower.
Sampson steadied himself by putting one hand on the heavy, rounded muscles
of the black man.  The mulatto boy began panting as Zeke resumed his
ministrations.

Gently, Scott seized the man mountain's penis and began pumping it.  Zeke
groaned, closed his eyes for a moment, but pushed his groin forward a
little and began swaying just a bit in time to the white man's pumping of
his coal black rod.  Sampson was now moaning a little, and James came up
behind him, wrapping his dark chocolate arms around his friend to steady
him.  Sam's eyes darted back and forth from the meaty black fist around his
penis to the cream colored fist around Zeke's coal black rod, and in but a
moment he trembled, bucked once, and sent a squirt of his twelve year old's
semen out over Zeke's hand and onto the bed.  James held him tight, his own
rigid rod pressed against Sam's buttocks, as the mulatto boy gasped and
panted with his orgasm.

Sam was hardly done before Scott, in one quick motion, dropped to his knees
and took the midnight black, massive penis, big as a bottle, into his
mouth.  Zeke cried out in astonishment, almost in refusal, but Scott kept
to his post, now tonguing the large bulb on the end, now sticking his
tongue down the slit a little, now taking as much of the organ as he could
into his mouth, licking up and down the shaft, and now bobbing his head up
and down as he sucked Zeke in earnest.

James gently laid the wilting Sampson down on the bed and crawled over
close to Zeke, placing the coal black hand, streaked with Sam's slime, over
his own penis.  "My turn," he said, getting the process going by guiding a
few pumps, and then Zeke took over and began beating the chocolate boy off
with a vigorous rhythm, matching the beat by which Scott was sucking his
own penis.  The big man moaned and swayed a little as he began thrusting
his pelvis forward a little into Scott's face, he placed his other hand
around the white man's head, entwined in his dirty blonde hair, and hung on
for dear life.

It was when James shouted, threw his head back and curled his torso
forward, shooting a stream of semen up onto Zeke's hand, that Zeke himself
reached a climax and grunted deeply, shuddering, trembling, bucking hard
once or twice but trying not to overwhelm the white man on his knees before
him.  Scott hung on to the large black man's thighs for dear life, keeping
the penis in his mouth but avoiding asphyxiation from it.  He took the
whole of the fountain of white semen into his mouth, swallowing and sucking
expertly as the black man emptied himself into him.

Then with a final shudder, Zeke was finished, and Scott released him.  He
bumped into the bed and sat down on it, then lay down, sighing and moaning,
his massive penis still oozing a little fluid as it slowly flagged.  Then
in an instant he turned to Scott, remembering himself, and said,
hesitantly, "What you want me ta do, Masta?"  Scott rose, his need plainly
clear, but he did not want to push Zeke too soon to do anything he was not
ready for.  "Nothing you are not prepared to do, my friend," he said.
Sampson, understanding the situation and seeing an opportunity for himself,
instantly crawled over James to sit on the side of the bed and without
asking turned the white man toward him so he could take the rampant dusky
penis into his own mouth.  Scott smiled, his fingers playing with the boy's
medium brown curls, his pelvis swinging slightly back and forth to match
the boy's rhythm.  Zeke watched the process intently; perhaps it was his
first time to see a white man climax, more certainly his first time to see
him climax and discharge into a brown boy.  Pump, pump, pump and then Scott
groaned loudly, holding Sampson's head firmly but gently with both hands,
as he shot his load into the mulatto boy's mouth.  Sam sucked eagerly,
swallowing regularly, as Scott stood there shuddering and panting.  Then
Sam released him, and his red cock, trailing a little fluid, plopped out.

The two men and two boys looked from one to another and then the boys
started giggling and the men smiling.  Scott pulled Zeke off the bed and
embraced him, standing up, although he could scarcely get his arms around
the man.  And then they all went off to clean up in the shower and to dress
in preparation for the day.

New clothes arrived for Zeke within the hour, and his old clothes were
ready not long after that, so he was finally able to walk around without
the sheet.  The household began to go about its tasks, with Adam and Moses
directing work on construction of the heavy doors for the tunnels.  This
business, and the usual increase of household chores that came with new
arrivals, occupied the whole household.

But midway through the day came a note from Marshall McGillicuddy, replying
by return mail to Scott's letter about renting the Annex.  He was indeed
available and could attend Scott that afternoon.  Scott hurriedly composed
a note agreeing to the appointment and sent it by King directly down to the
hotel where the Marshall was staying.

At one point during the day, Scott and Cloud pulled Helen aside to ask
about the vision or intuition she had received from her proximity to the
tunnels.  She could not recall clearly what it was, just a strong
impression.  They asked if she would be willing to come down into the
tunnel to see if she got more of a message from it.  She agreed, ducking
her head shyly and saying, "I got the second sight, they all say, Masta."
So the three went down into the tunnel, Cloud arm in arm with Helen, to see
what might be sensed.  They went as far as the tunnel under Rue Dauphine.
A gentle breeze, or movement of air, was passing through at that moment,
and by luck it was one of those times when they could almost make out what
seemed to be voices.  Helen paused, her hand up in the air, eyes closed,
listening.

Dreamily, she spoke: "Not evil.  Very old.  Different.  Not ready, not
ready.  Some day.  Not...not of here."  Then she startled, as if waking,
and looked questioningly at her companions.  They told her what she said,
but she had no recollection of it.  After a few more minutes they went back
up into their own house.

Scott gave everyone warning that Marshall McGillicuddy would be arriving
that afternoon.  The fugitives had to retreat to the left wing servants'
quarters while he was there, the rest of the household had to enact the
roles of humble slaves.  For the fugitives, there was some fear; for the
people of the house, they actually took it as an enjoyable challenge, sort
of an exercise in community theater.  A few of them dug out old livery so
they were in proper form when the front doorbell rang.

James, hamming it up with a lot of bowing and scraping and "Yassuh, Masta,"
showed the Marshall into the library, where Scott received him.  The
Marshall was a trim, wiry, tough looking fellow of about forty, with salt
and pepper hair.  He had left his family behind in Memphis for an
assignment of a few months in New Orleans, to investigate the state of
affairs in pursuing fugitive slaves, ever since the murders of the previous
marshalls in the hurricane.  In negotiation with him for the rental of the
Annex, Scott agreed to provide domestic services from among his own staff
for a fee, although they would remain based in the main house and would
sleep there.  Scott privately thought that this would be an additional way
to gather information about the investigations into the Underground
Railroad and the deaths.  It was all arranged, and the Marshall was to move
into the fully furnished house the next day.

Adam and Moses agreed that construction of the tunnel door for the main
house should continue apace.  Installing a door for the Annex would have to
be done when the Marshall was not at home, because of the noise that might
be made.  He must not be alerted to anything amiss.  With occasional
assistance as required, the two labored on through the day on the door, and
they thought it could be completed by the following day.  The household was
much relieved at Helen's intuition that there was no evil--although there
surely was a mystery--in the tunnel, but they all agreed it was better to
be safe than sorry and that securing the cellar entrance was wise.

Everyone discussed plans for renting the Annex to McGillicuddy, and a small
group of the women went over to make sure the house was clean and tidy and
in order for its new occupant.  They all agreed that the rooms with the
spyholes in them should be made the most attractive, so that the new tenant
might spend the most time in them.  It was a long day of heavy preparations
in the Annex, in the main house, and in the cellar and tunnel.  Everyone
was tired and ready to retire as they bade each other goodnight and paired
or tripled up for the night.

Zeke, his head down and shuffling in an embarrassed fashion, sidled up to
Scott.  "Masta, I'se wonderin', is they any more that y'all do? I mean,
like we did this mornin'...you know, Masta."  Scott smiled and put an arm
around as much of the big man as he could.  "There is, Zeke, and I would be
happy to show you and to experience some of it with you, but only if you
are ready and sure."  Now the big man smiled and nodded vigorously.
"Yessuh, I like ta try," he said.  And so the two went off to Scott's
bedroom--to tell the truth, to not a few private smiles, snickers, or
whispers of awe among the other residents, and some silent prayers for
Scott's wellbeing.

Once in the bedroom, Scott prompted Zeke in the two undressing one another,
gently and casually.  Once naked, the two stood face to face for a while,
smiling at each other, penises beginning to rise.  "I don' know what ta do,
Masta," whispered Zeke.  In answer, Scott simply embraced, wrapping his
arms as far around the huge man as he could, and Zeke followed suit.  Then
Scott leaned his head up and with one hand on the back of the big man's
head, brought his lips down to be kissed.  Zeke was tentative at first,
although he had obviously kissed women before, but was soon following
Scott's lead.  Their breathing became heavier, hands sliding across arms,
backs, and buttocks, Zeke finding it much easier to reach everything on
Scott than Scott could on Zeke.

Scott was determined to keep it simple and to climax first himself, so as
to preserve as much pleasure as possible for the huge black man.  Once
their kissing and fondling had reached a fever pitch, Scott gently
encouraged Zeke to drop to his knees.  The white man simply held his now
rampant penis before Zeke's mouth and asked, "Alright?"  Zeke nodded,
looked at the penis with something like grim determination (it was clear he
had not sucked one before), and then gently taking it in his massive paw he
slipped it into his mouth.

Scott had to caution him about no teeth, had to give advice as to
technique, but before long Zeke was sucking him with ease.  Scott held the
big man's head with both hands, fingers sinking into the crisp, crinkly
hair on his head, as he gently swung his hips back and forth.  Zeke grabbed
hold of the white man's buttocks to help with the rhythm, his head bobbing
back and forth now on the dusky rose shaft in his mouth.  It did not take
long before Scott whispered urgently that he was coming, and that Zeke
should not release the penis from his mouth.  Then with a shudder and a
clenching of his buttocks, Scott shot a geyser of his semen into the black
man's mouth.  He could hear Zeke swallow, tentatively at first, and then
regularly, sucking and cleaning off his penis as the climax subsided and
then releasing it from his lips with a smile.

Now Scott summoned up his courage and lay on his back on the bed, beckoning
Zeke to join him.  Taking the pot of grease he lubricated the massive, now
rampant organ of the black man, who looked down in wonder at this
operation.  Then he instructed Zeke to lubricate his own fingers, a couple
of them, and insert them into Scott's anus.  Seeing instantly what was
planned, Zeke complied, Scott gasping a little at the intrusion, groaning
once two were inserted, but he insisted that Zeke continue, and to slide
the fingers in and out.  When he felt himself relaxing, Scott called for
Zeke to slowly and carefully insert his penis.

It was a struggle.  Scott shuddered and gasped, instinctively placing his
palms against the massive, rounded chest muscles of the big black man, as
the heavy bulb at the end of the midnight black shaft entered.  "Oh, Masta,
is I hurt you?" cried Zeke, genuinely worried.  Scott shook his head but
held up his hand to have Zeke wait.  Then forward a little, more gasping,
forward a little more, and soon Zeke was completely inside Scott, his legs
stretched out on the bed behind, Scott's legs wrapped around the huge black
man's back.  Scott had never accommodated so large an organ, and he had to
wait another moment, but then with his pelvis he began pumping slowly, then
with more vigor, and Zeke, seeing that Scott was not suffering, responded
with a reciprocal pumping of his own.  The two locked gazes, Scott's hands
still splayed against the meaty rounded lobes of the big man's chest,
tweaking his nipples the size of silver dollars, faster and harder now,
sweat dripping from the big black man onto the white man pinned beneath
him, and then with a roar Zeke curled his torso forward, slammed his groin
into Scott heedless of the consequences, and bucking and jerking he shot an
enormous load of semen into the white man's gut.

Zeke held that position a moment longer and then collapsed onto Scott, the
end of his penis still inside the white man although largely withdrawn.
Scott wrapped his arms around Zeke as far as he could and nuzzled his kinky
head with his face while the big man panted and sighed.  And then he
thought he could hear--no, he was sure--that Zeke was crying softly.
"What's wrong, Zeke?" he whispered in his ear.

"Ah, Masta...Masta, did I hurt you?"  "No, Zeke, but why are you crying?"
"Ah, Masta--tha' was the best, better'n I evah had with a woman, Masta.
Ah, Masta, tha' was the best."  Scott held him there, stroking him, as the
tears subsided, then Zeke rolled off to the side but put his arms around
the white man and pulled him to him, Scott's face now in the big black
man's chest.  Simply holding each other, the two fell asleep.


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lokiaga@austin.rr.com