Date: Fri, 22 Feb 2013 22:28:08 -0500
From: lokiaga@austin.rr.com
Subject: Visit to the Plantation 11

Visit to the Plantation 11
Lance Kyle

Biscuit slipped out of the tangle of bodies on the bed late that night to
creep across Jackson's yard and his master's yard to return home.  Lying in
bed with sixteen year old Paris and his thirteen year old brother Pompei,
Jackson wondered how much money Biscuit had saved up from working extra
jobs for people.  Was he saving up to buy his freedom?  Jackson knew
masters sometimes allowed that.  He wasn't sure how he felt about it; he
considered whatever his slaves earned to be his anyway, but perhaps other
masters saw it differently.

In the morning the white man and his black slave boys awoke with the usual
erections.  Jackson would not let them ejaculate, though.  There was
kissing and stroking, fondling, even a little quiet sucking, but Jackson
made sure none of the three took it too far.  He wanted them at their full
potency later on in the day.  Nothing prevented him from enjoying the
moment, though.  He ran his hand over the boys' smooth, mainly hairless
brown skins.  Highlights of honey shone here and there.  In the genitals
and in places where the skin was thicker, like the elbows, the boys' dark
brown skin became even darker.  The palms were a light tan, and Jackson
examined in detail the very clear dividing line between the dark brown of
the backs of their hands and the suddenly tan palms.  And of course the
genitals, as was true for most people of all races, were very much darker.
The boys' scrotums were a charcoal dark, one could almost truly call it
black.  Jackson rolled the loose skin of each boy slave's scrotum between
his fingers, which had the effect of a gentle scratching and caused each
boy nearly to purr with pleasure.

Then it was time to get up for the day, to wash and to bathe.  The three
went down to the washroom and Jackson used the tub first.  As he dried off,
he admired the way the water changed the intensity of color on the boys,
deepening and darkening as their slim bodies rose up out of the tub,
running off in visible rivulets down the skin.

Jackson went off to his office for the morning, leaving the boys to do
their chores.  He asked them to invite Biscuit to join them in the
afternoon.  When Jackson returned for lunch, he found that Biscuit would be
able to join them shortly.

On the way to his house, Jackson had stopped to order up a wagon and pair
of horses for the afternoon, which were delivered as he was finishing his
lunch.  Biscuit arrived at the house about then also, and the three boys
were whispering together, clearly intrigued by what the wagon and team
meant for the afternoon's activities.  Jackson said nothing.  He read his
mail and then changed into informal, simple clothing.  Instructing the boys
to pile into the wagon, but taking nothing else, Jackson leaped onto the
driver's bench and away they rolled.

The wagon rolled down the streets of the town and then out a country road.
Farms and the occasional grand plantation lined the road. But these became
scarcer as the road wound on, and soon the wagon was going through a dense,
shaded forest.  The boy slaves were increasingly mystified.  Then coming to
a narrow dirt road, the wagon turned off and creaked along over ruts until
it suddenly entered a clearing.  There was a pleasant, small, natural
meadow by the banks of a stream.  Jackson tethered the horses nearby so
they could graze and drink and told the boys that he had grown up near this
place, and that it was a swimming and fishing hole known to only a few
locals.  Without further explanation he began removing his clothing,
arranging it on the seat of the wagon, and instructed the boys to do so as
well.  Soon one cream colored, one light brown, and two dark brown bodies
stood on the meadow grass.

The edge of the meadow near the stream was a gradual slope, turning into a
claylike mud as it neared the water.  Taking the lead, Jackson splashed the
few yards down the bank and waded into the stream, motioning to the boys to
follow him.  Then for a while the four simply played in the water, which
was nowhere more than just above the waist deep.  The boys understood they
had the freedom to swim and to splash, which led to play and gentle
roughhousing.  Jackson waded up on each boy and grabbed him from behind,
tickling him in the ribs until he was breathless from laughter.  The boys
seized one another and tossed each other into the air and down into the
water, spraying droplets left and right.  The boys dared to swim underwater
and grab Jackson by the thighs, toppling him and were reassured as he
laughed coming up out of the water.

The boisterous play soon became sexual, however.  Sneaking up behind a boy
to tickle him, Jackson soon turned it into caressing, grinding his growing
erection into their rounded bottoms while the boy would push back against
him below the surface of the water.  Biscuit managed to turn around when
pinned this way but that led to being caught again by Jackson's arms, and
the white man kissed the mulatto slave boy on his full lips, hardening
penises rubbing together beneath the surface.  And so it went, while
attempts to catch, easy surrenders to being caught, turned increasingly to
sexual play.  The water shone on the dark skins of the boys, especially
Paris and Pompei, highlighting their deep chocolate color.

This foreplay could not last forever, and it did not.  Unwilling to delay
any longer, Jackson caught up Paris in his arms, the black slave boy
putting his arms around his master's neck, and the white man carried the
boy like a groom carries a bride, up out of the water to lay him on the mud
just as the water's edge.  There Jackson immediately stretched himself on
top of the dark brown sixteen year old slave boy, penises rubbing, and
began fondling, caressing, and kissing the boy.  Biscuit took a hint from
this lead and swung thirteen year old Pompei into his arms in the same way,
Pompei putting his arms around the mulatto boy's neck in the same way, and
carried the boy to the bank, laying him on the mud just inches away from
where the white man was grinding into Paris.

Pinned to the mud, Paris and Pompei wrapped sometimes arms and sometimes
legs around the one atop them, running hands along backs and into hair.
Long kisses and explorations of lips and tongues followed, each couple
sharing breath intimately. Then unable to delay, Jackson pushed Paris's
knees up to his chest and placed his rigid red cock at the entrance to the
slave boy's anus.  Mud from the riverbank mixed with the copious oozings
from the white man's penis to form a natural lubricant, and he pushed right
in, Paris crying out and thrashing but not refusing.  Inches away, Biscuit
did the same to Pompei, pushing his sixteen year old mulatto dick
completely inside the dark brown slave boy's bottom as Pompei's legs
wrapped around his back.

Sometimes holding themselves up off the body beneath them with their palms
on the bank, sometimes lowering themselves into the dark brown body below
them and being clasped tightly, sometimes looking at the boy they were
impaling and sometimes at each other, Jackson and Biscuit began pumping
with a sense of purpose.  Breath seething, sharing breath with the brown
slave boy on the bottom, the white man and half white boy vigorously and
rhythmically pumped and pumped.  Biscuit was the first to come, shouting
out, arching his back, pumping then pressing forward, pumping twice and
pressing forward, as he shot his load into Pompei.  Jackson was not far
behind as he slammed down onto Paris's chest, roaring as the boy held him
tightly and exploded into the brown slave boy's bottom, bucking and
shuddering.

Jackson and Biscuit lay there recovering breath, faces turned toward each
other, for some minutes.  Then Jackson pulled out with a plopping sound and
pulled Biscuit over to lie on his back.  Jackson took up the same position
on his back not more than inches away.  But this time Pompei was to fuck
the white master and Paris was to service Biscuit.  Once more, the generous
oozings of clear liquid from penises was combined with a light coat of mud,
and whatever Paris and Pompei could wipe up from the semen that drooled
from their own bottoms, to create a lubricant.  Biscuit and Jackson pulled
up their legs and into their bottoms each brown boy plunged his purple dark
cock in one motion.  It was easier for Jackson to take the thirteen year
old boy, but Paris cried out as the sixteen year old Biscuit entered him.
Already stimulated by their own experience of being fucked, Pompei and
Paris pounded furiously into the light brown and cream colored bodies
beneath them, all the while being kissed, caressed, and stroked by the one
who was receiving their cocks.  Pompei came first, as thirteen year olds
will, crying out and bucking but twice, then collapsing in a heap on top of
his white master, who pulled the boy close on his chest and stroked his
back.  Paris was not far behind, shooting his load in three forceful
plunges into the mulatto boy beneath him.

It took a while for all four to recover, but when they did they sprang up
and plunged back into the water, washing themselves and each other.  The
play was more relaxed this time, more gentle.  This continued for a while
until Paris suddenly stood up straight in the water and looked toward the
shore.  He then turned his back to the meadow and continued splashing but
moved backwards steadily toward the shore.  And when he was quite near it
he turned and sprinted quickly toward a bush just a few feet up the bank.
The white man and the other two slave boys were quite mystified as to this
behavior.  Paris covered the distance quickly and threw himself behind the
bush.  There were the sounds of a struggle, and then Paris emerged,
triumphantly...with somebody in tow...


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lokiaga@austin.rr.com