Date: Tue, 25 May 2004 03:50:20 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Seaward Plantation chapter four

This story contains graphic but completely fictional
depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage
boys.  If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read
or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.

Seaward Plantation

Chapter four

Mark Appleby floated down from a dreamless sleep.  He
thought of the sea as he spiraled to earth, the sea washing
in waves on the shore.  The sound of waves became louder as
he drifted closer to consciousness.  In a confused state of
half-wakefulness, he wondered if he were once again by the
sea with Hector, the beautiful man-boy slave with whom he
had spent the previous, passionate afternoon.  But how could
that be?  For he was in bed in his home at Seaward
Plantation.

Craning his head up off his pillow, he realized the sound of
washing was from a torrential rain outside, the wind pushing
waves of airborne water against the window.  He gave thanks
for the sound stone construction of Seaward, its solid tile
roof and tightly shut windows and sank back into bed.  And
then his immediate surroundings rushed into his
consciousness in a pleasurable wave.  He was lying on his
left side, tightly spooned between his two thirteen year old
caramel brown slave boys.  His left arm was under the neck
of the boy in front of him, Bacchus, his left hand spread
out on the boy's taut, flat padded chest.  His other arm
flopped across the boy's abdomen, his right hand cupping the
slave's lower belly.  But on Appleby's other side, Bacchus's
twin brother Pan aligned his slim body with his master's
strong back.  Pan's left arm was extended beyond his head,
his hand resting lightly entwined in his master's light
brown shoulder-length hair, while the boy's right arm
crossed over to caress his master's chest, his fingers
lightly grazing the man's nipple.

Of course, there was more to the arrangement than that, as
you would expect from three healthy young males on first
awakening.  Appleby felt the thick head of Pan's penis
pressing hard into his naked lower back, and a little
wetness from some clear precum that had oozed out in the
early morning.  Appleby's own rigid cock felt warmly encased
by something; shifting a little so as to move it, he
realized it was lodged between the upper thighs of the boy
in front of him who was spooning back into his belly.  Out
of curiosity, to see whether Bacchus matched his bedmates,
Appleby's right arm slid a few inches down from the slave
boy's lower belly, over the small, crisp patch of pubic
hairs, and stopped short at a barricade:  the slim shaft of
the boy's dark brown cock was pointing up toward his slim
chest at a forty-five degree angle.

Sliding his right hand around the obstruction of Bacchus's
erect penis, Appleby caressed the soft, wrinkled skin of the
boy's full, hairless scrotum.  Plucking up tiny ridges of
skin, the rolled them between his fingertips, "scratching"
all around the dark ballsack in that way.  Bacchus woke with
a gentle start and a sharp intake of breath, then snuggled
back into his master's belly with a sigh of contentment.  He
began massaging his own stiff penis until his master's right
hand slipped up to take over that job for him.  Appleby's
large man's hand slid slowly up and down the boy's penis,
now slick with precum, bending the tip downward at the end
of each stroke, which made the boy moan softly and clench
his buttocks.  Bacchus moved his right hand back to grasp
his master's thigh and pull himself farther into his
master's hard chest and belly.  Appleby began slowly moving
his own penis between the thighs of his boy slave, in the
warm groove just where the thighs came together at the
testicles, a groove now slick with precum.

Pan awoke from the gentle movements in the bed, his head
starting up to look around in confusion.  "Wha'?" he said,
then realized the game that was going on.  His master and
brother were locked together so closely that he could find
no place to insert his hand between them to fondle the white
man, so he reached his right arm over his master's side to
grasp his brother's ribs and pulled all three together
tightly.  His left hand, entwined in his master's long light
brown hair, gathered it up in handfuls, bringing it to his
face where he smelled and tasted it.  Pan pushed his own
penis hard against his master's lower back, making a slick
surface on which his hard erection could slide.  He moaned
and gasped with the pleasurable effort of riding his
master's hairless back.

Pushing his cock in and out of the wet groove between his
slave boy's thighs suddenly put Appleby in mind of his
rapture on the beach with Hector the previous afternoon.  He
had a sudden yearning for that kind of experience again, but
he was sure there was no stone crock of butter in the
bedroom to smear on his hard penis!  Lifting his head to
make a quick survey of the room, Appleby spied the basin,
jug of water, and bar of soap. He quickly broke away from
his slave boys and leaped from the foot of his bed, which
brought soft protests from them both.  Sitting up on the
rumpled sheets, they look with curiosity as he softened the
soap in the water and then began lathering up his penis
which stuck straight out from his body.  "Oh!" said Bacchus,
quickly exchanging a look of surprise with Pan, which became
looks of comprehension.  Smiles of interest and expectation,
and perhaps a few wrinkles of worry, broke out on their deep
caramel, boyish faces.  They understood perfectly the
experience that would soon be theirs.  Both thinking the
same thought, and each greedy with desire to please their
master and themselves, they scrambled to the edge of the bed
as their master approached with the softened soap.

They positioned themselves side by side, thighs crammed
together, knees on the very edge of the bed, pale tan soles
of feet sticking straight back, torsos supported on their
elbows.  "Me, please, Master!" pleaded Pan on the left, and
"No, it's my turn," said Bacchus on the right.  Coming up to
the edge of the bed, Appleby was nearly overwhelmed with the
sight of two brown globes of deep caramel, with the darker
valley at the center of each that led from wrinkled brown
asshole down to their dangling scrotums and penises.
Stepping right up to the edge of the bed, he lathered both
his middle fingers well with the soap, then inserted them
into his slave boys' holes.

Each gasped, in surprise and discomfort, as his slippery
fingers pushed all the way in.  He began a slow rhythm of in
and out, spiraling his fingers more and more with each
stroke.  At first the boys squeaked with discomfort, then
began to purr and moan with pleasurable expectation.
Appleby could feel each asshole loosen and widen, the
sphincters relaxing.  It was time.

Lathering his achingly rigid cock once more with the soap,
Appleby stepped behind Pan, on the left.  He placed the head
of his penis at the slave boy's brown love hole and pushed.
Younger and smaller than Hector, the boy's hole resisted at
first and Pan gasped.  Then, with a plop, first the head and
then the shaft of the white man's penis entered the long,
moist tunnel inside the black boy slave.  Pan put his head
down and moaned in pain.  Appleby moved back out slowly, and
the boy gasped again, then he pushed forward, picking up the
rhythm gradually.  Pan's gasps of pain gave way quickly to
moans of pleasure, and he struggled to push back into his
master's slowly pumping groin while still staying on the
bed.  All the while, Appleby was reaching to his right, his
right middle finger reinserted into Bacchus's asshole.
Bacchus squirmed with delight, muttered "my turn" and
"please, master" under his breath as the white finger moved
in and out, expanding the circle of his hole.

Appleby suddenly pulled completely out of Pan with a wet
sucking sound, which brought the boy's head up with a gasp
and a small yelp of protest.  Taking one step to the right,
Appleby placed his penis at the bottom hole of the second
black slave boy, and pushed.  Already opened from Appleby's
finger fondling, the love hole relaxed more easily and the
white man entered the boy entirely.  It was Bacchus's turn
to moan, raising his head to look around, putting his head
down low to see between his own brown legs and past his
dangling penis to his master's light colored legs and large,
hanging pink and purple ballsack moving back and forth.
Appleby now reached to the left and inserted two lathered
fingers into Pan, to mollify the boy for his momentary lack
of attention.

After a few moments of this, Appleby switched again, then
after a few minutes more he went back again.  Each change
brought a soft moan of protest from the boy he left and a
gasp of pleasure from the boy he impaled.  Sensing that this
could not continue forever, Appleby cried "Up, Pan" to the
boy he was fingering.  Looking to his master for directions,
which were given with a quick gesture, Pan rose from his
position and stood on the edge of the bed, putting one foot
over his prostrate brother, straddling his brother's bucking
back and presenting his rock hard penis, standing nearly
flush with his belly, to his master.  Appleby took the slave
boy's dark brown penis into his mouth and began sucking and
pumping furiously in time to the rhythm with which he
slammed his own penis into the brown boy beneath.  Pan
grasped his master's shoulders, then his hair, then his
head, wildly bucking and emitting animal sounds of "Eeee,
eeee, eeee" as he began to lose control. Time lost all
meaning as man and boys, locked together physically, became
one, lost in pleasure.

It happened at nearly the same time.  Pan came violently,
pushing forward into his master, who could barely remain on
his feet with this onslaught, the slave boy clutching
frantically at his master's tanned white shoulders.  Four
times the boy pulled his hips back as if to wind up and
throw, which he did with his whole young body.   Appleby
leaned into the boy's groin, swallowing frantically, while
both his hands were busy in pulling the hips of the boy
below in and out.  Pan's ejaculation had no sooner subsided
than Appleby's began.  Pulling his head back away from Pan's
dripping penis, Appleby slammed his muscular groin forward
into Bacchus's butt.  Throwing his head back with a low roar
from the back of his throat, Appleby shot long ropes of
white cum into his black slave's asshole, working his penis
in and out frantically.  Unbalanced by his master's spasm,
Pan stepped backward and lost his footing, falling on his
back just beyond his brother's head, his legs stretched back
alongside his brother's arms and knees.

Bacchus felt his master's violent passion subsiding.
Desperate for release, he lunged forward, releasing his
master's long red penis with a loud sucking sound, and
scrambling forward he sank his own cock into his brother's
mouth which was open and panting.  Surprised but willing,
Pan began sucking hard on his brother's rigid penis while
Bacchus began pumping his hips for all he was worth, his
hands on the far edge of the bed.

Appleby, drained, slumped forward against the near edge of
the bed, watching the boy he had just fucked scoot forward
towards his brother.  The white man was treated to the sight
of the dark caramel brown hips of the boy clench and
unclench in quick succession as Bacchus face-fucked his
brother.  A muscular dimple appeared and disappeared in
rhythm.  After the stimulation to his prostate administered
by his master's fucking, it did not take long. With a long
howl, Bacchus slammed forward into his brother's face,
nearly gagging him.  Straining forward to squeeze every
ounce of spunk into his brother's mouth, on his final push
Bacchus did push too far and went tumbling over his
brother's face and onto the floor on the far side.

Panting, swallowing, Pan and Appleby looked at each other in
surprise, Pan coming up off his back and twisting half
around to look at his brother on the floor.  Appleby craned
forward to see what he could see.  Master and slave boy held
that position for only a second, their penises slowly
wilting and dribbling the last off their cum onto the bed.
Suddenly they heard first a giggle, then maniacal laughter
coming from the floor.  Bacchus rose up halfway and
clambered back onto the bed, laughing at his unintentional
fall.  Pan and Appleby both broke into guffaws themselves,
Pan choking in his laughter as unswallowed dribbles of his
brother's semen blew out his nose.  Appleby rolled forward
in his laughter, and lolled on the bed in a tangle of
pleasure and intimacy with his slave boys.  It was in that
happy moment of laughter, crossed limbs, and gentle caresses
that Appleby felt a strong emotion.  He had felt hints of it
before in the last two days, but knew it for what it was
when it came to him full-blown:  he felt love for these two
boys who were wholly his, owned and possessed by him.

Keeping that knowledge in his heart to ponder later, Appleby
sent the boys down to the bath room to pump and heat water
for a bath.  They threw on some clothing and ran downstairs
to the task.  Shaving carefully at the bowl, now murky with
soapy water, Appleby turned over the images of the boys in
his mind, caressing each one again in his imagination.
Gathering up the old but clean bathrobe he had been given on
his first day, he went downstairs to find the bath room.
Passing by the dining room, he noticed a simple breakfast of
bread and jam on the table, but there was no sign of the
women.  The storm continued to howl outside; perhaps their
absence was due to the weather, but it was clear that
someone had been here early to leave the food in haste.

Entering the bath room with its brick floor, large claw-
footed tub, pump and stove, Appleby found that the boys had
heated and pumped enough water to fill the tub.  Casting
aside his robe, he sank gratefully into the warm, steaming
water.  A pleasant inspiration seized him.

"Boys, come take a bath, too.  Just one at a time," he said.
They needed no second invitation, although Appleby did think
he would have to mediate a dispute as to who would go first.
In the end, Pan stepped into the warm water and sank down
with his back to his master's belly.  Although both the
white man and the dark brown boy sported half erections in
the warm water, it was a time for the pleasure of caring
touch alone.  Their wet legs slid together as Appleby soaped
and scrubbed the boy's back, then reached around in front to
wash his chest and belly, being careful to clean his
underarms as well.  Gently, Appleby pulled back the skin
from Pan's penis, still sensitive from his recent passion,
and cleaned the organ thoroughly, Pan giggling with boyish
delight.

"Up with you now," he said, helping to push Pan up and
slapping his dark golden brown bottom as it cleared the
water.  With a mock yelp, Pan hopped out of the tub, Bacchus
slipping in nearly before his brother was out.  Bacchus sat
facing his master, each one's legs wrapped around the
other's hips, their semi-hard penises bobbing together in a
friendly fashion underwater.  Appleby cleaned Bacchus as he
had Pan, but in addition he soaped his fingers lightly and
gently rubbed and caressed the boy's face, as Bacchus held
his eyes closed in bliss.  Then Bacchus soaped and scrubbed
his master's chest and belly and then returned the favor by
pulling back his master's foreskin and gently cleaning his
penis as the white man had done to him.

Finished with their bath, man and boy emerged to accept the
towels that Pan offered them.  The boys put their clothes
back on, while Appleby donned his bathrobe to return to his
room.  Dressing quickly, he returned to the dining room
where he invited the boys to join him in his breakfast.
Ravenous from the morning's exercise, all three quickly
finished the bread, and also some fruit they found in a bowl
on the sideboard.  As the boys cleared away the remains of
the meal, Appleby went to the window and looked out.

He had been aware of the howling of the storm all along, a
fact confirmed by the sheets of water that blew against the
windows.  The boys scurried around to light fires in the
fireplaces of the dining room, study, library, and Appleby's
bedroom above.  Peering into the storm, Appleby thought he
heard a change in the howling of the storm.  It came and
went, then came more consistently, a high pitched keening
that would last for perhaps twenty seconds at a time.
Trying to identify the sound, walking from window to window,
he began to realize that it came from the slave cabins.  He
was wondering whether he should investigate when a dark
shape loomed out of the swirling rain, ran down the verandah
to the door nearest the outdoor kitchen, and burst into the
stone-floored pantry, dripping water and admitting wind and
rain.  It was Hector, wrapped in an oiled, weatherproof
cloak.

"Master Mark!" he cried.  "It's Athena!  Her time has come!
In our cabin."  And then he was gone back out into the
storm.

Appleby would have liked to have seen Hector again for the
first time since their afternoon together yesterday under
more private circumstances, but fate had arranged things
differently.  Pan and Bacchus frisked around in a state of
high excitement.  On the pantry wall were three rain
slickers, long oilskin cloaks.  Appleby sent Bacchus for his
boots upstairs and put them on, then he and the twins donned
the cloaks and hurried out, making sure to shut the door
against the storm behind them.

Wrapping their cloaks around them, hoods pulled low over
their faces, they fought the wind and rain to make their way
down the path that led to the slave cabins, and found the
wooden structure shared by Troy, Athena, and Hector.  They
entered and shut the door behind them quickly.  Spacious
enough for its three usual occupants, the single room bottom
floor seemed crowded.  All the slaves of Seaward were there.
On the bed lay Athena, drenched in sweat and paler than her
usual dark caramel brown, but with a look of fierce
determination and strength on her face.  A rich, strange
animal odor of unfamiliar body fluids came to Appleby's
nose, and he began to feel the mystery and strangeness of
what was happening on the bed.  The smell was overlayed with
a strong medicinal, herbal odor coming from a pot simmering
on the wood stove.  Mama Juno and Mama Cass sat stolidly in
chairs on either side of the bed, mopping Athena's brow,
spooning herbal tinctures into her mouth, and murmuring
soothingly to her.  Helen, the little sister of Troy and
Hector, sat upstairs on the edge of the loft, her thin dark
legs dangling off into the air.  Appleby thought she smiled
quickly at him, the only witness to his peeping tom
adventure of the night before, but then her face retreated
into neutrality and watchfulness.  Priam stood with his back
to the window, ramrod straight and a rock of strength,
looking out the window at the rain.

Troy, Athena's man, paced back and forth from the end of the
bed to another window, stopping at each turn by the bed to
look at his woman with concern.  Hector, too, seemed
unusually agitated, his usual quiet strength troubled by the
unfolding events.  He sat in a chair near the bed but not
too near, drumming both feet against the floor, flipping a
piece of kindling wood between his hands.

Seeing the new arrivals add to the crowding, the older women
decided to take matters into their own hands.

"Priam!  Haven't you got chores to do in the barn?  Are all
the animals safely in, are the cows milked?" said Mama Cass
to her husband.  Priam smiled quietly and made no answer,
but knelt to pick up a waterproof canvas which he began to
arrange around himself.

Mama Juno rose and spoke sharply to her sons:  "Pan,
Bacchus, go to the kitchen and take bread, cheese and fruit
over to the master's house, that's all he will get for lunch
and dinner today, and then do your chores, change the
sheets, clean up over there!"  And turning to the white man,
she said, "Begging your pardon, Master Mark!" but it was
clear she was doing no such thing and that she expected him
to depart as well.  Smiling, Appleby and the twins prepared
to leave--but he did wonder for a moment why she specified a
change of sheets in her instructions to the boys.

Appleby, the twins, and Priam left, the older black man to
go about his chores with the canvas wrapped tightly around
him, Appleby and the boys to return to the house.  They did
not hear what instructions were given to Troy and Hector,
whether they were sent away or allowed to remain.  The twins
and their master stopped by the separate kitchen building
and loaded up on provisions, which they carried back to the
pantry in the main house.

A long afternoon ensued.  Master and slaves shared another
simple meal of bread and cheese.  The boys began their
chores of cleaning, restoring the upstairs bedroom to order
and putting down fresh sheets (what must the older women
think of the rate at which his sheets needed washing?
Appleby thought to himself).  As the boys went about their
business all over the house, Appleby found an opportunity to
explore the one part of the house he had not yet seen, the
cellar.  In the coolness of the stone-lined basement he
found foodstuffs stored, the last of the previous fall's
fruits now wrinkling.  Old broken furniture was piled in one
corner.  Approaching a row of self-standing shelves in
another corner, he was pleased and astonished to find row
after row of dusty wine bottles.  Eagerly examining the
labels, he found cobwebbed bottles of old claret from
Bordeaux, as well as Burgundy.  A few were less dusty and of
more recent vintage, so he surmised that his Aunt Lucy had
purchased them.  But most must have been put down by
Richardson Huddle decades ago, and if aging improved wine at
all they would be at their peak.  A whole section of old
Napoleon brandy excited him, and he stuffed three bottles in
his pockets and under his arm to take upstairs.

Appleby no sooner cleaned the dust of years off of the
bottles and placed them in the study than a howl of wind and
a crash signaled the opening of the pantry door.  This time
it was little Helen, wrapped in oiled canvas, standing
dripping on the floor.  Like a prophetess of old she raised
an arm and uttered the single word "Come!' then turned and
ran from the house.  Calling to the boys, Appleby and the
twins once again put on their rain slickers and ran to the
birthing cabin.

Entering, they found everyone there once again--but no,
there was one more!  For there sucking at Athena's breast
was a new baby!  Troy sat by her side, holding Athena's hand
with a look of proud strength on his face.  Hector ran up to
his master as soon as he entered.  "It's a girl!" he said,
and taking the white man by the hand led him to the bedside.
The boy's strong hand gripped Appleby's so tightly he
thought it might break.  Appleby could hear the boy's rapid
breathing and could almost hear the pounding of his heart.

Athena opened eyes, tired from her labors but strong and
shining, and looked at her master.  She made no attempt to
cover her bosom at which the infant sucked.  She looked
straight into Appleby's eyes, the intensity of the moment of
new life cutting through any difference and division.  Then
she said in a whisper that nevertheless carried throughout
the room, "You were right, Master Mark.  She is beautiful."

Tears sprang to Appleby's eyes.  Please God, he prayed,
don't let me lose control here.  He could but nod
vigorously, and smiled to fight back the trembling of his
lower lip, then turned and looked out the window at the
storm until he regained his composure.

At that moment, Mama Juno rose up by virtue of her status as
new grandmother to take command.  "All the men folks, out!"
she declared.  "Hector, you're going to have to move back to
Priam's and Cass's and share the loft with Helen for a few
days.  Priam, go, find some more chores to do.  Pan and
Bacchus, I need you close in case Cass and I need someone to
fetch wood or water, so move back next door into the loft of
our cabin, I'm sure Master Mark can make do without you for
tonight at least.  Begging your pardon, if that is
acceptable, Master Mark," she added, but it was clear that
she was not really seeking permission.  He might be her
master, but such advantages gave way in the world of women
and childbirth.  "Troy, can't sleep in this bed for a while,
find someplace else," she said, her voice a little softer.
Gathering rain gear about them once more, everyone dispersed
out into the storm.  Pan and Bacchus waved goodbye for the
day to their master, saying how much they would miss him,
asking if he would be alright.  He reassured them, and
returned alone to the house in the rain.

The quietness inside the lonely house was balanced with the
continued storm outside.  Appleby stood by the window
looking out, just able to make out the hay and storage barn
near the border of trees.  He noticed then a figure, blurred
by the driving rain, run into the barn, then back out again.
He could only tell that it was dark skinned and, as far as
he could tell, was unprotected from the storm.  Donning his
rain gear, Appleby set out once more, heading straight for
the barn.  As he came nearer the figure approached again,
heavily ladened, and ran into the barn just ahead of him.
Appleby followed quickly and there on the straw-covered
floor stood Troy.  The twenty-year old black man was soaking
wet, completely, and was putting down a load of bedding that
he had fetched from a cabin.  The bedding itself was hardly
less wet than he, having been hauled there through the rain.

"Troy, what are you doing?" asked Appleby in amazement.

"Oh, Master Mark!" Troy said with a start, surprised by the
unexpected appearance of his master.  "You scared me!  Well,
sir, I guess I'll sleep here in the barn for a few nights,
until the women folk let me back in," said, his strong, dark
face breaking into a wide grin of dazzling white teeth.

Appleby looked at the drenched bedding and knew it was
hopeless.  "Come, help me spread these things out over the
straw to dry," Appleby said to the slave, "and then come to
the house.  There are five perfectly good empty bedrooms
there and you are not going to sleep on wet bedding in a
barn."  Troy was going to protest, but the white man was
already spreading the soggy blankets out over stacks of
straw to dry.  The young man helped his slightly older
master and when done, the two of them peered out of the open
barn door.

"The rain is coming down as hard as ever," said Appleby.
"Haven't you any covering?" he asked the younger man.

"No master, but," chuckled Troy deep in his throat, "I'm as
wet as I can be now, I might just as well run."  Seeing the
sense of this comment, Appleby wrapped himself up in his
rain slicker and both men ran for the house, quickly
entering through the pantry door which they shut tight
against the storm.  Both men took off their wet boots and
left them on the stone floor to dry.  Appleby took off his
slicker and hung it up on a peg where it could drain.  Then
he looked at his slave with concern, for the young man was
soaking wet and the day was getting cool once more.

"Come upstairs to dry, I'm sure we can find towels and you
may use some of my clothes until yours have dried," Appleby
said.  A look of surprise appeared on Troy's face.
"Upstairs, master?" he asked, almost in wonder, as if he had
been invited to a cave of rubies and diamonds.  It was clear
that he had rarely if ever been on that floor.

"Surely, come along with me, please," said the master,
filled with a sense of concern that Troy not catch cold.  He
led the way through the hallway and up the stairs quickly,
as Pan and Bacchus had led him on his first day there.
Opening the first door he came to, he saw that the fireplace
had been set with kindling and wood--perhaps even years
before!--but had not been lit.  Finding a match on the
mantel, he set the fire, which caught and, thankfully, began
to burn without smoking.  Troy stood somewhat dazed just
inside the room as the white man moved quickly to attend to
his needs.  Finding no towels in the room, Appleby stepped
into the hallway and opened the door to a small butler's
pantry, revealing stacks of clean, folded towels.  He
returned to the room with several of them and handed them to
Troy.

"Thank you, master," said Troy quietly.  He looked his
master full in the face, searching his eyes for any hint of
manipulation or advantage in these kindnesses the white man
was showing him.  "Thank you.  It's been a hard day... a
good day, but a hard one."  Troy turned to arrange the
towels on a washstand in the room.

"Yes, I know it has," replied Appleby.  "For you, and...
well, it seemed to me that Hector was quite excited by the
birth of your daughter, he must be a devoted brother-in-
law."

"Brother-in-law?  Oh yes, Hector is quite excited and
concerned."  Troy paused, carefully choosing his words,
seeming to make a decision in his mind before going further.
"He's not excited as a brother-in-law, Master Mark.  Hector
is excited," he paused, "because he might be the father."
If it were possible for Troy's deep chocolate skin to
darken, it did so now with a blush.

"The father.... Hector?  Of that baby?!"  Appleby was so
stunned that he sat down on the edge of the bed which was
right behind him.  The white man knew from his own
experience that the black teenager was fully capable of
filling Athena's uterus with his man seed, and he knew that
Hector stayed in the loft of Troy's and Athena's cabin, but
this was unexpected.  He looked in shock at Troy, who smiled
back, picking absently at his soaking wet shirt.

"But... but don't you mind, Troy?  You seem not upset at
all," said Appleby, and then blushed, conscious that he must
sound like a Boston prude.

"Upset?  No, Master, I'm not upset at all" said Troy very
softly....and then in one movement he pulled his sodden
shirt off.  The twenty year old black slave carefully draped
the shirt over a nearby empty quilt rack so that it might
dry, but Appleby scarcely noticed that activity, mesmerized
as he was by the sight of Troy's naked torso.  His chest was
two nearly round pads of muscle, two inches thick and
curving gently out, with two thick, prune-like nipples just
on the lower edges of each breast.  Well defined pads of
muscles marched in soldierly array down each side of his
abdomen.  His navel was a whorl like a snail, and flush with
the dark skin covering the tight muscles of his belly.  He
appeared to have no fat on him at all.  His waist was slim
but looked as tight as a steel spring.  There was no hair at
all on his dark chocolate skin, which shone with a light
coating of natural oil and with the moisture from the rain.
A well defined ridge of muscle ran out from his thick neck
to shoulders that bulged out, muscles rolling away from
strong bone in a wave of flesh.  The wave continued down his
arms, where muscles worked underneath dark skin at every
small movement of the young man.  Clearly visible tufts of
wiry, spiraling hair were peeking out from his underarms.

"Not upset at all," he continued, looking up at his master
then and flashing a brilliant smile of sympathy and
acceptance for the shocked white man.  "It happened one day
about a year ago.  Hector was thirteen, and had been staying
in the loft of our cabin for some time.  One day Athena and
I were in bed, naked.... you know, Master," he said,
blushing again.  Appleby nodded his agreement and swallowed
hard, unsure whether he could speak at all.  "We were making
some noise, I guess, but then I heard some noise upstairs.
We had thought we were alone in the cabin.  I slipped out of
bed quietly, even though I was naked, and went around to the
ladder.  Those cabins sure are built strong," he said,
shaking his head and smiling, "because I could climb right
up the ladder without making a sound.  As soon as my head
cleared the loft level, I saw Hector, also with no clothes
on, lying on his side with his ear to the floor, trying to
listen, and playing with himself.  You know what I mean,
Master," he said.

Appleby nodded quickly.  "Well, I jumped up the last three
rungs of the ladder quickly and stood there by him.  I sure
scared him, seeing me there all naked, and him being naked!"
said Troy, shaking his head in amusement and chuckling.  His
deep, soft laughter animated the muscles of his belly and
chest, which moved beneath his deep dark skin.  "I knew what
he needed, Master," said Troy, turning his gaze directly
into his master's eyes, "so I took him by the hand and led
him down the stairs and into our bed.  It was OK with
Athena, and OK with me.  He shared that bed with both of us
until Athena got pregnant, even after for a few months.  Of
course," Troy said, shifting his gaze away into space, "we
couldn't do anything for the last few months, neither Troy
nor me.  That's been real hard."

Troy tugged, then tugged harder at the wet cord holding up
his soggy pants, looking to the side as he did so,
remembering.  The cord moved half an inch.

Appleby found voice at last.  "But, how could you not mind
that your brother shared a bed with you and your wife?"

Troy looked at Appleby, and a clear strength came into both
his voice and face.  "You may have noticed there aren't
women or girls Hector's age here on the island.  Not for Pan
and Bacchus either, although they might not mind that so
much," he said, a slight grin spreading on his features,
"but it's difficult for Hector.  Our bed is what he needed."

The last word hung in the air as Troy's tugging finally
worked, and both pants and wet loincloth fell to the floor
in one motion.  The young black man stood naked before his
master.  The poetry of hills and valleys of muscle that ran
down his arms was echoed in his legs, with bulging thighs
and narrower but well defined calves.  Troy bent to pick up
his breeches and loincloth and turned to arrange them on the
quilt rack to dry along with his shirt.  In profile, he
showed the same high, tight, top-padded butt that Appleby
had seen on Hector and Priam.  Every move worked a muscle in
his legs, rolling movements of power and grace beneath the
spread of deeply dark hairless brown skin.  Troy turned back
to face his master.

"Here on Seaward Island, all we have is each other.  Each
one gives to others what they need."  Troy looked down.  He
might have been looking at his genitals, and Appleby surely
was.  Here one would have no doubt of the rumors of the
superior endowments of the African male.  Troy's penis was
not out of proportion to his body, his body was so
gracefully muscular that the ten inch long shaft and thick
circumference of the nearly black organ seemed perfectly
right.  As with Hector, the head was somewhat smaller than
the shaft, a lighter brownish purple tip peeking out from
the hood of midnight skin.  Heavy balls filled a hairless
scrotum behind this magnificent penis.

Appleby simply stared at his slave's dark body, taken away
by its beauty and strength and then with a start realized
that the young man's penis had begun to grow.  More of the
brown-purple head moved out of the hood of skin, and the
organ began to rise slowly out and away from Troy's body.
Not curved, it straightened out and began to rise in a stiff
salute.  Appleby tore his gaze from this sight and shot a
quick glance at Troy's face.  The young man was smiling at
his master; he had been observing the white man all along.

"At Seaward, each one gives to others what they need."  Troy
repeated the simple truth.  "We give you what you need,
Master Mark," said Troy, "and I think you give us what we
need when we need it."  The utter truth and beauty of Troy's
words filled Appleby with lightness and joy, and he rose
from the bed.  Smiling with understanding and gentleness,
the powerful black slave walked the four steps it took to
stand directly in front of his master.  Grinning from ear to
ear now, Troy's strong dark fingers went right to the top
button of Appleby's shirt and methodically began to undo
each one.  As he neared the last one, Appleby came to his
senses and quickly undid his own trousers, sliding them and
his underwear to the floor.

It was Troy's turn to step back.  As with his brother and
the twins, he had never seen a naked white man before.
Appleby, although not as muscular from hard work as Troy,
had his own beauty of white tanned, pink and rose skin and
hard, sculpted muscles.  For a moment Troy drank in the
sight, then looked quickly into his master's face.  It was
Appleby's turn to smile, as he realized what a revelation
this experience was for his slave.  Troy's left hand came up
to fondle his master's light brown hair in wonder.  His
right hand moved quickly here and there over the white skin
before him, touching quickly, learning quickly, feeling rose
colored nipple and light tufts of hair on chest and above
the penis.  Appleby during this examination laughed, and put
both hands on either side of Troy's face.  His skin was soft
and smooth but beneath it even the muscles of his jaw were
powerful.  Appleby fondled Troy's small ears, and ran his
hands through the thick skull cap of wiry, kinky hair that
the slave wore.  His hands moved to the back of Troy's
strong neck and he moved the slave toward himself.  The
flesh of the young black man's mouth was full, pushing
forward his lips that were full and very dark, like
Hector's, the lower lip large and moist.

The two men, black and white, came together in a crash of
passion.  Appleby soon came to know that this was no boy,
the kind of lover to which he had become accustomed over the
last few days.  Appleby and Troy ground together, their
penises crossing like swords, both fully erect now.  Troy
pushed forward and Appleby went back onto the bed, Troy
following and mounting him face to face.  When the white man
sucked his slave's lips, pulling the black man's tongue into
his mouth, the young African responded in kind, enveloping
his master's thin white lips with his own until Appleby
feared they would be pulled completely off.  When the white
man thrust his pelvis upward, grinding his penis against the
hard belly and crinkly pubic hair of his slave, the black
man thrust back down even harder.  Appleby clasped both arms
around the black man's back and pulled him down into
himself, while Troy slid his arms around his master's
shoulders and pulled upwards in a fierce hug.  Legs wrapped
around legs, feet rubbed against feet, and the big four-
poster rocked and groaned with the struggle it supported.
As if by unspoken agreement, Troy turned his body around and
came back down upon his master, taking the deep rose penis
into his mouth and sucking, while Appleby sucked his slave's
balls and pumped the huge penis with his hand as clear
precum poured out of it.

Appleby didn't really think about what he did then; he
simply knew that he wanted it and, although Troy had said
nothing, he knew what his slave wanted, too.  Gathering his
strength, Appleby pushed the slave off and ran to his room.
He returned with a bar of wet soap.  Troy's look of
confusion and question at the sudden departure turned to a
look of amazement, hope, and questioning.  He knew what the
soap was for as well.

"Are you sure, master?" he asked.  By way of answer, Appleby
began applying soap liberally to the rock hard black penis
that now extended nearly a foot.  Troy leaned back on the
bed, his feet on the floor, supporting himself on his elbows
as his master ministered to his rock hard dick.  Quickly
soaping his own butt hole, Appleby climbed onto the bed on
his back, shoved a pillow under his hips, and raised his
legs in the air, bent at the knees.

Troy needed neither invitation nor directions.  Clambering
into position, he put the end of his huge penis against his
master's wrinkled pink love hole.  It was fortunate for both
of them that the men of Troy's family had somewhat smaller
heads on their organs than the diameter of the shaft, for it
did not take much pushing for the first inch of Troy's penis
to pop into his white master.  "That's not so bad," thought
Appleby, and then sharp pain shot up through him as Troy
pushed the rest of his soapy cock slowly into his master.
Once completely in, he slumped forward over his master, the
top of his kinky-haired head brushing the white man's chin,
and lay there, sucking at his master's rose colored nipples
until the pain subsided.  Appleby communicated that fact by
a gentle movement of his hips.  Troy responded in kind,
slowly increase the pace as he pumped his penis in and out
of his master.  It never felt comfortable to Appleby, but it
felt good, feeling as if his entire gut was filled with the
black man's penis with every forward stroke, giving himself
to his slave in that way.

Troy never lifted his head from his master's chest.  He laid
his cheek on the hard, muscular pad of the white man's
breast.  Eyes an inch from the pink and white skin, tongue
occasionally flicking out to lick, a thin line of drool
flowed out of the black man's full mouth.  With his powerful
hips he plowed his master's ass, gradually picking up speed.
His hands were under Appleby's shoulder blades, fingers over
the tops of his shoulders, pulling the white man into him.
Appleby's lips and nose mashed into the wiry, jet-black hair
of the slave's head, smelling the clean body oils and rain
water there.  The white man lifted his head as much as could
to look beyond the heaving, sweating shoulders of his lover,
down the long dark glistening lines of back muscle on each
side of the valley of the spine to where the dark padded
buttocks were clenching and unclenching, pistoning like a
machine.

The faster Troy pumped the harder he held his master,
refusing to release him, black skin pressing down into white
as if the two would merge.  Ecstasy could not be delayed
forever.  A small sound began in his throat, "Nnnn, nnn,
nnn, nnn" and it built into words:  "Oh master, Oh my God,
Oh master, Oh--" and then a full throated bellow.  At last
Troy lifted his head from his master's chest and roared up
into the white man's face, sweat flying in beads from his
face and forehead.  His whole body clenched, driving his
enormous penis as far as it could go into the white man's
guts.  He pulled the organ halfway back, pumped vigorously
five times, pushed and roared again, holding the spasm for
seconds.  Then, utter collapse and silence.

But not silence, for Troy was whispering and crying:  "Oh
master.... Oh I needed that.... Oh my master, Oh be my
master."  Appleby caressed the wooly head with both hands,
rubbing his face in the crinkly hair.  The white man's own
needs were near their peak, but he held them back to help
his black slave get through this moment.  A great sigh shook
Troy's body--he was still--and then he quickly arched up.
In an unintentional mimicry of what his master had done with
his brother the day before, Troy planted his knees on the
bed and pushed forward to keep his enormous penis inside the
white man's intestine.  Curling forward, the slave took the
head of his master's dick into his mouth, rolling it with
his big lips while his tongue rubbed it top and bottom.
Appleby writhed in pleasure, his legs locking around his
slave's lower back, digging his heels into the ample muscled
pads of his buttocks.  Moving his head downward, Troy took
the whole penis in his mouth and began sliding his head up
and down.  The white man gasped and moaned, writhing with
pleasure, arms flailing, hands slapping the bed, slapping
the black man's shoulders.  Appleby put off the moment as
long as he could.  Unable to delay, he put his head back and
roared.  He clenched his legs so tightly even the powerful
slave thought his spine might break.  The white man's arms
could not find his slave to grasp; instead, his fists
pounded on the bed, clenching at the sheets.  A mighty blast
of sperm worked its way from his lower belly up his penis,
exploding into Troy's mouth.  The black man sucked
furiously, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.  His
white master's hips bucked twice more, he shivered as if
with cold, and collapsed flat on the bed.

Troy pulled the pillow out from under his master's hips and
stretched out beside him on the bed.  Turning in toward each
other, the men ran their fingers over each other's faces,
exploring, learning, smiling.  When they became more aware
of their surroundings, the window was dark and the fire was
low.  Rolling out of bed, Troy fetched the chamber pot from
below.  He held it while both men pissed into it, laughing
as they crossed lines of urine, deep pink and red penis
sometimes slapping against the midnight black cock of the
slave.

"Build the fire," Appleby said softly to his slave, then ran
from the room.  Through the darkened house he went, naked,
as the storm continued to push rain against the windows.
Finding what he sought, he ran back up the stairs and into
the room with a bottle of Napoleon brandy and two glasses.
Troy's face lit up with surprise and a deep chuckle formed
in his chest.  "Have you ever had this?" Appleby asked.

"Miss Lucy gave us some every now and then at Christmas,"
the slave replied.  The two men climbed back into the bed
under covers, grateful now for the fire in the grate and the
warmth of each other's bodies.  Appleby poured two drinks,
gave one to his slave... to his friend.  They looked into
each other's eyes and silently touched glasses in a toast
that each man felt in his heart.  Snuggling together,
sipping, as each drained the glass he fell asleep in the
rainy night.