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From: WannabeWhitman <wannabewhitman@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Adventures of Stampley Plantation: Chapter 5 (m+m, Mm, Mb, mf, cons, hist, interr, 1st, bi)
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Date: Sat, 05 Aug 2006 05:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "The Adventures of Stampley Plantation - Chapter 5.doc" begin>

The Adventures of Stampley Plantation

By WannabeWhitman (m+m, Mm, Mb, mf, cons, hist, interr, 1st, bi)


DISCLAIMER: This story is a sexual fantasy involving slavery in
the antebellum South, non-consensual sex with minors, and the
occasional use of racial epithets. The material is mostly of a
homosexual nature, but does and will continue to involve some
bisexual themes. If you think any of this might offend you, DO
NOT READ. I realize these stories might contain material
distasteful and offensive to some readers, but nobody is forcing
you to read it. Keep in mind these are only FANTASIES based on
America's racial history and my own conflicted imagination about
that history. My intention is not to condone or encourage racism,
sex with minors, or rape. 

Although this story is set in the antebellum South, I have not
done extensive research and cannot guarantee complete historical
accuracy. Most of the names, however, are taken from actual
records of slave-owners and their slaves. 

Any and all feedback is welcome and desired! I would love to hear
advice on how my writing might improve, characters or scenes you
particularly enjoy, suggestions for future characters or
storylines, stories and fantasies of your own, and anything else
you might want to share. E-mail me at <a
href="mailto:WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com">WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com</
a>. 

Chapter 5: Jacob

James was having a hell of a nightmare. 

Dreams during daytime naps always seem the most disturbing, but
this was unusually intense. James tossed and moaned in his sleep,
the naked slumbering bodies of Elijah and Thad still pulled
against his body.

James was kneeling on the dusty wooden floor, fucking Elijah on
all fours just as he had no more than an hour earlier while the
boy's little brother sat in the chair and watched. 

Only instead of Thad sitting on the chair, it was James's MOTHER,
who'd died from yellow fever when he was twenty years old.
Growing up, his father was always away on long business trips to
England, leaving his mother to raise him alone. James had never
been as close to another human being as he'd been to his mother,
and it took him two years before his heart-wrenching grief dulled
into a more general, bearable sadness. 

James was horrified at his mother's unexpected presence in this
perverse, embarrassing context. He stopped fucking Elijah and
looked at his mother with the shocked and apologetic expression
of a toddler who's just been caught in an act of disobedience.
Instead of looking angry and appalled, however, his mother
retained the calm, angelic expression she almost always had on
her face when alive. She merely looked sad and disappointed,
which made her son feel all the more ashamed. 

"James Arthur Stampley," she said in the scolding tone no son
ever wants to hear from the mother he loves. "What are you
doing??? I realize I've abandoned you for the last ten years, but
I know I raised you better than this! Why are you hurting that
poor Negro boy???"

James opened his mouth to explain, but no words would come out.
He tried to pull his dick out of Elijah, but his body was frozen
to his slave-boy's in mid-fuck. 

"Didn't I teach you about the Golden Rule, son?" his mother
continued in a soft, sad voice. "Didn't I tell you to treat ALL
God's creatures with kindness, no matter how dark or light their
skin might be colored? Didn't I raise you better than to do such
vile things to a helpless Negro boy?"

James struggled frantically to disentangle his body from
Elijah's, which now felt cold and limp like a corpse's. Sounds of
apology and explanation choked in his throat. 

"And such words I heard come out of your mouth!" his mother
exclaimed, shaking her head in disappointment. "Such ugly,
hateful words! Treating this cute little Negro boy worse than
you'd treat a dog or a horse! What have you turned into, son?"

Tears of shame and remorse ran down James's face. Finally words
came to him and he cried out, "I'm sorry, Mama! Please forgive
me, Mama! I'm so weak, Mama, and the temptation was so strong.
Please forgive me, Mama!"

"You know what must be done, James," his mother said quietly. 

"What?!? What must I do, Mama? Please tell me what to do!" James
begged. 

"You know what must be done," was all she said in reply. She
repeated this mysterious mantra over and over. 

"Tell me, Mama! Please tell me! I'm so sorry, Mama, I'm so sorry!
I'm so sorry........"

James was shouting his apologies when he felt two tiny hands
tugging on his arm. 

"Wake up, Massuh James! You'se just havin' a bad dream!" he heard
a child's voice coming from above him. 

James's eyes shot open in terror and confusion. He saw the faces
of Thad and Elijah looking down at him with concern. As soon as
he remembered where he was, he bolted into a sitting position and
looked at the wooden chair still sitting in the middle of the
bedroom. It was empty. He lay back down, forehead still covered
in sweat and chest still heaving from the emotional exertions of
his nightmare.

Normally the presence of the two gorgeous slave-boys still nude
and sitting at his sides would have been a welcome comfort after
an unpleasant dream. But this afternoon was different. Thad and
Elijah were reminders of his guilt, and he wanted desperately to
be alone with the thoughts of his dead mother. He looked at the
stopwatch on the table beside the bed and saw that it was already
2:15 p.m., nearly time for them to leave before Abel would come
to clean the room.

"I'd like for you boys to go now," James said wearily. 

Unmistakable looks of relief crossed both boys' faces. Elijah and
Thad scrambled to retrieve their scattered clothes. James almost
regretted his decision when he saw Elijah's beautiful dick -- now
crusted with cum, spit, and his little brother's ass-juices  
dangling heavily as Elijah lifted his legs into his pants. James
glanced at Thad, whose perfectly rounded bottom wiggled in the
air as he bent over to collect his pants. The recollection of
Elijah's thick dark dick forcing its way into the little bum
flashed across James's mind, making his dick stir with its own
curiosity to explore the forbidden pleasures of Thad's
ten-year-old ass. 

The memory of his disappointed mother chased this momentary lust
away, however, and he turned to stare out the window at the
afternoon sun. He looked back as the two brothers, now clothed in
their tattered rags, started to leave the room. 

"Oh, and Elijah........" James said hurriedly.
"Don't........don't worry about coming back tonight." 

Elijah looked startled, and could barely disguise his joy at the
news. It had been ten nights since he'd enjoyed a peaceful
night's sleep in his own bed.  

"I'm afraid I'm not feeling well," James added, looking back out
the window. "I'll send someone for you when I want to see you
again."

"You gonna look for Daddy, like you promised us?" Elijah asked
shyly, hoping his curiosity wouldn't enrage Master James and ruin
the night's temporary freedom. 

"I'll........I'll see what I can do, Elijah," James said
guiltily, still looking away from the boys. "I enjoyed meeting
you, Thad," he added, turning back for one last look at the
beautiful little boy he had so far just barely touched. 

"Thank you, Massuh James," Thad whispered, his eyes frozen on the
ground. His asshole was still throbbing with pain, and he was
impatient to get to the creek where he could clean and cool its
fiery discomfort.

After the boys left, James put on his clothes, stripped the
bed-sheets, grabbed clean clothes, and headed downstairs to his
private bathroom in the east wing of the house. He'd ordered Abel
to have a hot bath waiting for him every day at three o'clock.
 
As he sank his weary body into the hot water of his tin washtub
nearly twice the size of the one he'd seen Abel use   James
reflected on his behavior with Elijah and Thad earlier that day.


In the calm of his sleeping sex drive (thanks to his recently
emptied balls), James's domination and degradation of the two
brothers seemed like the actions of a cruel madman, someone
separate from and offensive to the sensibilities of the good
person he felt himself to be at that moment. 

Deep down, James knew he still believed slavery was evil. He knew
he still believed in the ideals of human equality that made
America, still in its infancy, such a unique and wonderful
country. He knew that he didn't REALLY believe a smart, handsome,
good-natured boy like Elijah was a "dumb nigger" or "dirty
pickaninny." 

In fact, he felt a strong pang of affection just thinking of the
boy's cute stories, told in that raspy voice somewhere between a
boy's and a man's. He wanted to know every action, thought, and
feeling of Elijah's young life, inside and out. This is absurd,
he thought to himself. What would people think if they knew a
wealthy, now-powerful slave-owner like himself was spending every
waking moment obsessing over a 14-year-old Negro boy?  

Then again, he reassured himself, switch the gender and his was a
story countless other slave-owners experienced in secret. He
recalled reading the novel CLOTEL by William Wells Brown, along
with other narratives of ex-slaves distributed by his
Abolitionist friends, and hearing numerous lectures by former
slaves in Boston. Even though people didn't talk about it,
everybody knew Masters raped their slaves. For proof, all one had
to do was look at the dozens of shades of color in the Negro
population. In 1855, it was nearly impossible to find a purebred
African anymore. 

But what the slave narratives and lectures documented, the thing
that few white folks wanted to admit, was the frequency with
which Masters, sons, overseers, wives, and daughters fell
insanely and obsessively in love with their slaves. With whites
and Negroes living and working together in such unnatural
intimacy, it was a wonder it didn't happen MORE frequently.
Obsessive love is destructive even in the most equal of romantic
partnerships, but add to it slavery's gift to one partner of
complete power over the other, and tragedy was almost inevitable.


None of this offered much comfort to James as he distractedly
stood to scrub his body with the soap and bristled brush Abel had
dutifully laid on the stool beside his washtub. 

If he TRULY loved Elijah, why did he get such a thrill from
seeing the boy hurt and humiliated? Wouldn't a true and noble
love be willing to sacrifice his own pleasure for the sake of
Elijah's happiness? What was it within him that found it exciting
to witness the corruption of Elijah and Thad's innocence? He'd
also never uttered hateful, degrading names for Negroes before
coming to Georgia. Was there something toxic in the Southern air
that polluted one's mind with ugly words and callous brutality
toward one's fellow human beings?  

James had only been at Stampley Plantation for a little over
three weeks, and already he'd turned into the lecherous Mr.
Potter, calling slaves filthy names and laughing as he watched a
Negro slave rape his little brother. 

Was this whole thing just a sick practical joke?!? James laughed
cynically to himself as he imagined Mr. Potter, Elijah, Thad, his
friends from Boston, even his Uncle Walter, bursting into the
room at any minute, laughing and shouting, "SURPRISE!!!!" Then
revealing that the whole thing had been an elaborate trick to
test his TRUE feelings about slavery in the South. A test he had
failed miserably and inexcusably. 

James winced with shame as he remembered the dream of his dead
mother. He wasn't a spiritual man, so he didn't believe his
mother had literally visited him from the afterlife. But the
vivid sight of her face, blurry in his memory for so many years,
looking at him with sorrow and disappointment in her eyes, had
filled him with shame and self-loathing. He interpreted her
visitation as a message from his conscience, a message worth
listening to.

"You know what must be done, James." The chilling words still
rang in his ears. What exactly had his mother meant by that? 

His first thought was that she was telling him to do what he'd
intended to do three weeks ago when he first arrived at Stampley
Plantation: Free all 248 of his slaves, sell the property, and
enjoy the rest of his life traveling and enjoying life as an
independently wealthy bachelor. 

But James became dizzy and depressed when he thought about
turning his back on the temptations of his new life, the
possibilities he would never again have an opportunity to
explore. If he freed his slaves and moved North, he'd be lucky to
find two or three free Negroes interested in having sex with him.
And even then, they'd probably be eager, sissy sodomites, not
masculine, virgin boys and men new and reluctant to the world of
male-male sex. He wouldn't be able to enjoy boys as young as
Elijah and Thad without fear of being exiled or executed. He
wouldn't have the same uninhibited power to do and say whatever
he pleased during a sexual encounter. 

A mother's rebuke is a powerful deterrent, but could he really
set free the 150-plus boys and men on his plantation, knowing
that as things currently stood, he could enjoy every single one,
and thousands more, in limitless combinations, positions, and
fetishes, every single day for the rest of his life?!? Was he
willing to let his conscience rob him of the chance to sample
Thad's virgin mouth and near-virgin ass? 

James's mind did somersaults to come up with a less extreme and
painful interpretation of his mother's haunting words. She
mentioned nothing of the other slaves, he rationalized. She
merely seemed concerned with ELIJAH'S welfare. Perhaps she was
simply reminding him to keep his promise to the boy, to make up
for the child's suffering by reuniting him with his father. The
longer he thought on it, the more convincing his theory seemed. 

Yes, he eagerly told himself. He wouldn't do anything as rash as
freeing his slaves just yet, but he COULD perform an act of
kindness that would keep his word, appease his dead
mother/conscience, AND inspire the gratitude, perhaps even love,
of the boy he was developing such intense feelings for. 

Satisfied and relieved with this hasty and morally dubious
compromise, James finished his bath and resumed his afternoon
routine with renewed vigor. 

He spent an hour rummaging through papers in his Uncle's study,
hoping to find records of slave sales, or at the very least the
name of the attorney his Uncle used to arrange such transactions.
He didn't have any luck. It became quickly obvious that Uncle
Walter hadn't cared much for keeping records, or at least not for
keeping them organized. It looked like his Uncle had consulted at
least a dozen different attorneys over the past five years, and
none seemed to stand out as an expert on the legalities of slave
sales and purchases. 

That night over supper, James asked Mr. Potter where he could
find the attorney most likely to have overseen, or at least be
knowledgeable of, all slave sales on the Stampley Plantation over
the past ten years. 

After some curious teasing, Mr. Potter gave him the names of
three prominent attorneys and the owner of the nearest
slave-market. All of them resided in the small metropolis of
Columbus, Georgia, about a day's wagon-ride south of Potter
County. 

Impatient to pursue his intentions before changing his mind,
James asked Mr. Potter to arrange a wagon and driver for early
the next morning. He would spend the night in Columbus, conduct
his business the following day, and return to Stampley Plantation
three days later. Mr. Potter offered to accompany him on the
trip, but James politely refused. He knew the talkative man
wouldn't give him the time he needed to think, and besides, this
was something he wanted to do on his own. 

The fresh air and change of scenery would do him some good, James
reflected as he went to bed later that night, the first night
he'd gone to bed alone for over a week. It would help him clear
his head and get some desperately needed perspective on the past
three weeks. At the very least, it would get his mind off the
slave-boy that made his heart do back-flips every time he
pictured him. 

Or so James hoped.  

*************************************************************** 


Only two things kept Jacob the stable-boy from stealing one of
the overseer's guns and blowing his brains out: Fucking pussy,
and hating white folks. 

He loved the one as much as he despised the other, and pursued
both with equal enthusiasm. Other than his little sister Laney,
they were the only two things in the world that made it worth
getting out of bed each morning. 

He'd hated white folks for as long as he could remember. As young
as five, he was already cautious and vaguely fearful of the ugly
overseers, reeking of sweat and alcohol, who would sometimes
stroll through the slave quarters and whistle obnoxiously at the
pretty girls and women. He remembered his first sparks of anger
and resentment when they'd disrupt a game of marbles with a kick
of their boots, laughing as the marbles scattered in every
direction. 

When Jacob was eight, fear and annoyance flamed into full-blown
hatred. One day three of the overseers thought it was funny to
grab him from his playmates, hold his little body upside down by
the feet, and dunk him head-first into one of the older women's
tubs of water, dirty from washing clothes. They held his head
under the water for up to a minute at a time, laughing
hysterically as his arms and legs jerked and flailed in panic
that they were going to drown him. They pinched and slapped his
cheeks every time they'd pull him out of the bucket   water,
snot, and tears gushing from his face as he screamed in helpless
terror. The older Negro women who kept an eye on the slave
children while their parents worked in the fields, were powerless
to stop the sadistic prank. All they could do was look at the
ground and shake their heads. At their age, the creative
cruelties of white men were no longer capable of surprising them.


But that was mild compared to what Jacob had experienced at the
hands of white men during his eighteen years on Stampley
Plantation. 

At the age of fourteen, four overseers, obviously drunk, stormed
into his family's cabin late at night, armed with whips and guns.
Two of them restrained him and his father and forced them to
watch as the other two overseers raped his mother and Laney, who
was only ten years old at the time. Those two switched places so
that the one who'd been fucking Jacob's mother then fucked Laney,
and vice versa. Then they took over guard-duty for the other two,
holding back the enraged but powerless father and son while their
intoxicated buddies had their way with the mother and sister. 

Jacob's mother drowned herself in the creek two days later, and
his father was a broken man from that day forward. 

Jacob's horror at what he'd been forced to witness, and grief
over his mother's suicide, quickly turned into a fierce and
suffocating hatred for all things white. The only thing that
stopped him from slaughtering as many white men as he could
before being captured, was his deep love for Laney and his
father. He knew they couldn't survive the loss of another loved
one, so he repressed his desire for revenge to spare them further
tragedy. 

At least his life hadn't been bad as far as physical labor was
concerned. Instead of being dragged off to the fields at the age
of 14 or 15 like his friends, Jacob was trained by his father to
be an assistant stable-hand. He learned to feed and care for
Master Walt's horses and livestock, while his father worked as a
driver when Master Walt or one of the overseers needed to head to
town or take longer trips elsewhere. Not only was it a rare
privilege to work so closely with his father, but it was also a
job with relatively little oversight by the overseers, and tiring
but not unbearable labor. Best of all, it spared him from
extensive interaction with white folks. 

Until he was fool enough to get caught fucking Becky, Master
Walt's cook, one day in the hayloft when he was 17. It wasn't his
fault. Becky's the one who came on to him, and his horny teenage
dick had never been one to turn down easy pussy. He felt guilty
afterwards, thinking about Becky's husband Abraham and son Abel,
but he didn't know the half of it until Master Walt caught wind
of the affair. 

Apparently Master Walt had a thing for Becky years ago, and the
more shameless gossips in the slave-quarters even whispered that
Abel was in fact the offspring of Master Walt rather than
Abraham. "Ain't nobody light as that boy done come from an
African-lookin' nigger like Abraham," they concluded. 

Unfortunately for Jacob, he was apparently the last Stampley
slave to learn of the rumors, and by that time the damage was
already done. Even though the affair had supposedly died out
years ago, the news of Jacob's careless mistake awakened the
passions of Master Walt's younger years, sending the older white
man into a fit of petty jealousy and revenge. The Master and
overseers began to find fault with everything he did or allegedly
didn't do. Whippings, a relatively rare occurrence under the
ownership of Master Walt, became a weekly, sometimes even DAILY,
occurrence, with Jacob as the sole recipient of the punishments.
Jacob's hatred fueled him with enough adrenaline to endure his
whippings, but it wasn't enough to prepare him for Master Walt's
next level of vindictiveness. 

One day his father was ordered by one of the overseers to carry a
bag of grain-feed from the wagon to the stable. The overseer knew
the load was too heavy for the elderly man's frail shoulders, but
made him do it anyway. While carrying the unwieldy burden, his
father tripped and sprained his ankle. Claiming the man's injured
old bones were no longer useful to him, Master Walt shipped him
off to Columbus the next morning and sold him for less than the
price of a saddle. 

Master Walt kept many elderly slaves on the plantation. Jacob
knew his father's sale was done solely to spite Jacob for putting
his dick in a piece of pussy his Master fancied.

Not only did his father's sale mean more heartache for him and
Laney, but it also meant more work for Jacob. Instead of
purchasing or promoting a younger slave for his father's
position, Master Walt required that Jacob perform the work of two
slaves. If the Master or one of the overseers needed his services
as a driver during the day, he had to make up for the lost time
late into the night, cleaning the animal-pens and feeding the
livestock. 

At 18, Jacob played the role of "happy darky" well. Hell, he'd
been trained in it since birth, and his nearly pitch-black skin
added a nice touch to his grinning, groveling performances. But
beneath the "Yes, Massuhs" and "I'se sho sorry, Massuhs," Jacob's
hatred for white people had turned into a seething contempt and
intractable animosity as natural to him as breathing. 

The only release Jacob found from this pent-up hostility was
through fucking. 

He'd been fucking girls since the age of 13, and considered
himself pretty damn good at it. Sometimes he'd have to go
"steady" with one of the girls for a couple weeks before she'd
lift her skirts for him, but the flings he preferred were the
stolen quickies in the hayloft, woods, or slave-cabins, sometimes
with married women who'd sneak away from the fields for an
afternoon fuck. 

Sex provided Jacob an escape from the work and tragedy of his
life. He liked it because it was something he could do with
absolute freedom from the white man's control. When he moved his
dick in just the right way to make the girl howl and beg for
more, it gave him a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing
that it was a talent for which he could take total credit. 

Of course he enjoyed the feeling of a tight, wet pussy sucking on
his manhood, but what he loved more than anything was the moment
of climax. Fucking became a substitute for violence, his hips
thrusting into the girl beneath him with the ferocity with which
he longed to stab or beat a white man, any white man, to death.
Sometimes he'd even forget the needs of the girl beneath him,
clenching his eyes shut and visualizing scenes of blood and
violence as his black, sweaty body slammed ruthlessly into her
again and again. Once or twice he'd opened his eyes to see the
girl staring with fear into his wild face with its distant,
murderous look, and she'd futilely strain to free herself from
the muscled body pinning her down. When the moment finally came
for him to explode his steaming, pent-up load deep between the
girl's spread legs, Jacob took it as an act of divine compassion,
a chance for him to release all the pain and hatred of his young,
fucked-up life. In those first hours after climax, Jacob always
felt the least hateful and most contented he knew he'd probably
ever feel. 

On average Jacob fucked a different girl a week, sometimes as
many as three different girls in one day. Rumors of his sexual
skills spread quickly, and the slave girls and women eagerly
threw themselves at him most of the time. 

One time when he was 16, however, one of his former conquests,
jealous and angry that he didn't want to settle down with her,
spread a false rumor about a nasty infection on his dick,
resulting in a pussy famine that lasted for nearly a month. Being
a teenage boy accustomed to getting his dick wet any time he
wanted, Jacob suffered the loss sharply. 

Eventually Jacob became so desperate that he experimented with
some of the plantation BOYS. 

One of his buddies named Nelson had been purchased a couple years
back from a plantation where the Master and several of the
overseers preferred the mouths and asses of Negro boys to the
mouths and pussies of Negro girls. Everybody knew it, but Nelson
never liked to talk about it. 

But one late night during the infamous "pussy famine," Jacob,
Nelson, Jacob's best friend Solomon, and another buddy named
Charlie, were hanging out together in the stable. They were
sitting on short wooden stools and drinking some of the homemade
liquor made secretly in the woods on Sundays by some of the older
slave-men using dandelions or stolen corn as their main
ingredients. 

After having a little too much to drink, Nelson started telling
Jacob and the two other teenage boys about his experiences at his
former plantation. He said that at first he'd hated what the
white bastards forced him to do, starting at the age of 14. But
then he went on to say that eventually he got used to the
feeling, and started telling them in slurred words how a wet
mouth on a hard dick felt good no matter who the mouth belonged
to, and that a boy's ass felt even BETTER than pussy because it
was so much tighter. He even confessed that sucking dick and
taking dick up the ass wasn't as bad as it might seem based on
the jokes and good-natured ribbing so common in the talk of Negro
boys and men. He said it actually felt good once you got used to
it. 

Jacob was surprised when he first heard Nelson talk that way,
because Nelson always looked and acted just as much a man as
Jacob, and he couldn't imagine Nelson on all fours sucking a
guy's dick, or on his back, legs spread in the air, while another
boy or man fucked his ass just like it was pussy. Jacob felt sort
of sorry for the kid, and could only figure that the white
motherfuckers on Nelson's old plantation had raped the poor guy
so many times that he eventually began BELIEVING he was nothing
more than a cock-sucking piece of boy-pussy for men to enjoy. 

Taking another swig of liquor from the large jug the boys were
sharing, Nelson suddenly looked nervously around at Jacob and the
other two and asked if they wanted to get their dicks sucked or
fuck him in the ass. To see with their own eyes he wasn't lying,
he said. 

Of course they all laughed and told him to "shut the fuck up
about that nasty shit," but those first moments of drunken,
dismissive laughter were followed by an awkward silence. 

It had been nearly three weeks since Jacob had fucked any pussy,
and three days since he'd jacked his dick. He couldn't help but
find himself at least a little bit curious to see what Nelson was
talking about. For a teenage boy who loved sex as much as Jacob
did, what harm could come from it? As long as it felt good and
brought him to one of his fierce, ecstatic climaxes was all that
Jacob cared about. 

And maybe it was just the dizzying effect of the whiskey, but
Nelson was actually looking good to him just then. He had smooth
dark skin, not as dark as Jacob's but close; short crispy hair
cut close to his head; thick, purplish-red lips; and pretty,
almost feminine eyes. He would have been good-looking as either a
boy or girl, Jacob thought, but Jacob liked the fact that Nelson
still had a deep voice and slender, lightly muscled build normal
for a teenage boy. He didn't sound, walk, or talk like a girl.  

Jacob grabbed the jug from Nelson and took a long drink, looking
nervously at his buddies to see if they shared his drunken
curiosity. They looked back at him with the same sheepish looks,
nobody wanting to be the first to admit what they all were
thinking. 

Sensing that his friends' curiosity was inhibited only by their
stubborn masculine pride, Nelson wobbled to his feet, grabbed
Jacob by the hand, and pulled him to a standing position from the
short wooden stool on which he'd been sitting. Nelson dropped to
his knees and began fumbling with the belt of Jacob's dirty
cotton pants. 

Jacob looked over at Solomon and Charlie with a nervous smile, as
if to say, "I can't believe I'm about to let him do this!" 

Delayed by his drunkenness but certainly not by any apparent lack
of eagerness, Nelson finally unbuckled the troublesome belt, and
yanked Jacob's pants down till they rested around his ankles and
bare feet. Nelson wasted no time getting Jacob's dick wet,
swallowing nearly all of Jacob's thick eight inches with his
first gulp. Nelson grabbed the base of the dick with his right
hand and began sucking it with ferocious eagerness, moaning and
slurping on it just like a girl. 

BETTER than a girl! Jacob had enjoyed dozens if not hundreds of
blowjobs since the age of thirteen, but none had swallowed his
dick as deeply and eagerly as Nelson did that night. Damn, Jacob
thought to himself, those white motherfuckers had turned the poor
kid into one hell of an expert cocksucker. Jacob felt a pang of
guilt for taking pleasure in the result of the white men's
perversions. 

The warm, tight suction of Nelson's wet mouth quickly chased away
all reservations, however. Jacob leaned his head back, closed his
eyes, and slowly began rocking his hips so that his dick pushed
in and out of Nelson's mouth. 

Jacob loved the way Nelson took all of his dick in his mouth,
smashing his nose into Jacob's thick patch of nappy pubic hair
until the entire shaft was buried in his throat. Nelson even
choked and gagged like it was all part of the fun. Most bitches
were on their feet and out the door the first second they even
THOUGHT they might gag, but Nelson was devouring his dick like he
was competing for a ribbon at the Potter County Fair. 

Just as Jacob was being transported to that place of concentrated
hostility and impending release, Nelson pulled his mouth off his
dick with a loud slurping noise and took a deep breath. Nelson
nodded his head at Solomon to stand beside Jacob. Solomon
reluctantly complied, standing awkwardly next to his friend as
Nelson worked Solomon's pants to the ground. 

Solomon was close to seven feet tall, with a wiry build and
light-golden skin. He had a long face that Jacob knew the girls
found attractive, with green eyes, thin lips, and a thin layer of
black fuzz above his upper lip. Jacob glanced at his friend's
now-naked dick out of the corner of his eye, and almost laughed
when he saw how huge it was. It still hung soft from nervousness,
but even in its shrunken state it hung a thin but impressive nine
or ten inches at least, its foreskin still closed around the tip.
Clearly Solomon's obvious white ancestry hadn't affected the size
of his manhood. Jacob thought it seemed a dick fitting with his
friend's tall, lanky build. 

Nelson smiled up at Solomon and shook his head back and forth in
eager disbelief before scooping the sleeping giant up in his
mouth for a first taste. Solomon's eyes looked drunk and dazed,
but his dick sprang quickly to life under Nelson's experienced
tongue-swirling. Soon it was a good eleven inches jerking toward
the ceiling, looking like one of the long cane-poles the boys
used for fishing. Even after years of cock-sucking, Nelson could
only fit a little more than half of it in his mouth. 

Jacob reached down and began stroking his own dick, partly to
keep it hard and ready for the return of Nelson's mouth. But also
because he found himself uneasily aroused by the sight of
Solomon's narrow dick sliding in and out of Nelson's slobbery
mouth, drool dripping from the cocksucking slave-boy's chin every
time the dick slipped from out of his lips. Solomon's entire body
was comically tense, his eyes shut tightly in embarrassment. 

Charlie didn't wait for Nelson's invitation to join the fun. He
stood up, untied the string looped through his ragged pants, and
shoved them down around his ankles. 

Charlie was shorter than Jacob, with a younger-looking build that
nevertheless showed some tight adolescent muscles. He had a round
boyish face, dark-brown skin, medium-length wooly hair, thick
African nose, and a devastating smile he used frequently to woo
the ladies. His dick was a thick, stubby seven inches, and much
darker than the rest of his brown skin. Jacob guessed most girls
would be glad to get their hands on a dick like Charlie's, but it
looked absurdly small next to Solomon's wakened monster. 

Showing none of Solomon's nervousness, Charlie grabbed the back
of Nelson's neck, pulling the boy's mouth off Solomon's dick and
replacing it with his own rock-hard, circumcised dick. Nelson
took Charlie's manhood easily into his mouth, sucking up and down
the shaft with gleeful ease. 

The three teenage boys stood like that for what felt like an
hour, stiffly but closely together in a row, pants in crumpled
piles around their bare feet. Nelson took turns gulping down each
of the boy's dicks, choking and slobbering with delight. While
one boy enjoyed the intense pleasure of his attention, the other
two continued stroking eagerly, sometimes shutting their eyes in
solitary reflection, at other times guiltily staring at the dick
of the friend being sucked at the time.

Eager to see how far he could push the boundaries of his buddies'
curiosity, Nelson suddenly stood and looked at his dizzy, horny
friends with a mischievous smile. He unbuckled his own pants,
locking eyes with the other boys as he did so. He dropped his
pants to his ankles, but didn't step out of them. His own seven
and a half inch ebony-colored cock jutted from his body at an
angle almost parallel to the stable's dirt floor. 

Still smiling devilishly at his friends, Nelson snorted a huge
wad of spit into his mouth, then spit it directly into the palm
of his right hand. Still standing, he then reached behind his
back and began rubbing the spit into the crack of his ass.
Without a word, Nelson grabbed one of the four stools on which
the boys had been sitting, and placed it in the middle of that
particular room in the stable. He then bent over, pushed the
smooth shiny half-globes of his black ass toward his buddies, and
grabbed the stool firmly in both hands for support. 

Jacob was embarrassed to admit it, but Nelson's taut, hairless
ass looked as round and inviting as any he'd ever seen on a girl.
For a second he worried about getting shit on his dick, but
figured Nelson knew what he was doing and wouldn't tempt them if
he weren't confident they'd enjoy themselves. The three weeks
without pussy and three days without shooting his load had worked
Jacob into a horny frenzy. He knew his friends were too proud to
go first, so he thought "what the hell," stepped out of his
pants, and walked over to Nelson's welcoming buttocks, hard dick
grasped eagerly in hand. 

He stood there uncertainly at first, naked from the waist down.
He imagined one fucked a boy's ass probably the same way one
mounted a girl's pussy from behind. With his hands he grabbed
Nelson's hips, partly covered by the boy's ragged shirt. He then
pulled Nelson's ass toward his crotch and clumsily began poking
his hungry dick into the dark crack of his friend's ass. 

Having trouble finding his desired target, Jacob spread Nelson's
ass-cheeks with both hands until he could see the small,
black-purplish ring of his buddy's asshole. It was the first male
asshole he'd ever seen, but Jacob thought it didn't look all that
different from those he'd seen on girls, visible and winking
sometimes when he entered them from behind. 

Nelson's asshole was glistening with the spit he'd just smeared
around it. Jacob could smell the distinct funky odor of a teenage
boy's sweaty ass, but it didn't smell like shit or anything foul
like that. Better than the way a lot of girls' pussies smelled,
he thought with amusement. 

Impatient to release his pent-up load, Jacob showed Nelson no
tenderness as he pressed his dick against the boy's tight opening
and forced his way in with an aggressive thrust. Nelson's body
lurched forward to escape the intrusion, then slowly eased
backwards, swallowing Jacob's dick deeper and deeper as it moved.
Nelson grunted in pain and surprise at the violence of the first
entry. 

For a second, Jacob felt like a 13-year-old virgin all over
again, strange and embarrassed to have his dick suddenly shoved
up his friend's shit-hole. But his experience and talent quickly
took over, urged on by the warm, squishy grip of his buddy's
insides. Soon Jacob was bucking wildly in and out of Nelson's
half-naked body, and the slurping, sucking, mini-farting sounds
of ass-fucking filled the quiet night air. These were joined by
Nelson's deep grunts and groans as his body rocked forward with
every one of Jacob's aggressive thrusts. 

At one point Jacob pumped into Nelson so furiously that it
knocked the stool from out of his hands. Solomon and Charlie
laughed, but Jacob only sped up his fucking, forcing Nelson to
rest both hands on his knees while Jacob held him by the hips and
slammed into him from behind, Nelson's pants still in a pile
around his naked feet. 

Solomon and Charlie were still standing and stroking their dicks,
watching the scene before them with a mixture of surprise,
disgust, and fascination. 

Jacob knew it was gross to be fucking a guy, but when he closed
his eyes and imagined Nelson was a girl, he really couldn't tell
any difference. Jacob thought to himself that for a boy who'd
probably been butt-fucked dozens if not hundreds of times in his
young life, Nelson still had a remarkably tight asshole. In fact,
Nelson hadn't lied........his asshole actually felt hotter and
tighter even than the handful of virgins Jacob had been lucky
enough to deflower. 

Soon the new yet familiar pleasures thrilling Jacob's body took
him to the mental place where sex mingled with violence and lust
turned to hatred. He lunged his body brutally into his friend,
increasing the frequency and intensity of his thrusts to such a
breakneck speed that even the experienced Nelson screamed out in
surprise and protest. Jacob was deaf to his partner's cries,
however, and continued pummeling the body before him as if were
every ugly, spiteful white man that had ever hurt or insulted
him. 

Eventually he felt rising from deep within his balls the build-up
of the past three days, the physical and psychological release he
so desperately craved. Digging his fingers tightly into Nelson's
slender hips, Jacob pulled the boy's ass firmly toward him,
forcing his thick eight inches deep into his buddy's bowels. He
stopped his thrusting and held Nelson's body still in that
position as he pumped a geyser of hot, thick-white cum into his
friend's thirsty asshole. He felt his body slowly depleted of all
repressed frustration and hostility, until it was gradually
replaced with a pleasant, restful calm. 

When he was confident every last drop had been swallowed into his
friend's rectum, Jacob withdrew his half-hard dick, slimy with
spit, cum, and a few specks of shit. Jacob's euphoria was so
intense that at that point he no longer cared. He collapsed
half-naked on a bale of hay in the corner of the room.

Solomon, now more confident and comfortable than earlier, wasted
no time moving in to take Jacob's place. With the lubrication of
Jacob's cum, now leaking out of Nelson's panting asshole,
Solomon's gigantic dick had no trouble entering his friend's
ravaged backside. It still had a good three inches of unexplored
tunnel, however, and Nelson moaned loudly as Solomon forced his
way deeper into Nelson's ass than most men could ever dream of
being. 

Solomon looked awkward at first, but like Jacob he rapidly
adjusted to the new pleasure of fucking another male's asshole.
His height made the current position uncomfortable, however, so
he pushed Nelson to his knees on the dirt floor, then flat on his
stomach against the ground. With both hands pressed against the
floor several inches above Nelson's head, Solomon lay himself
parallel to his buddy's body as if he were about to do push-ups,
his lanky arms rippling with teenage muscles beneath his cotton
shirt. 

Once comfortable in his new position, Solomon pushed his dick
once again into the warm, wet cavern of Nelson's ass. He fucked
with long, slow strokes, each time burying his eleven-inch
manhood deep into his friend's guts until his curly jungle of
black pubic hairs smashed against the sweaty clenched muscles of
Nelson's ass-cheeks. Nelson tucked his head beneath his arms to
muffle his moans of pain mingled with ecstasy. 

From where he sat in the corner, Jacob had a full view of
Solomon's smooth golden buttocks as they rose up and down above
Nelson's prostrate body. Against Jacob's conscious will, his dick
stirred to renewed life at the sight. He was confused and
embarrassed to realize that he was drooling over his best
friend's ass like it was a piece of good pussy. Never before in
his life had Jacob ever looked at Solomon's ass that way. He'd
seen it hundreds of times at the swimming-hole growing up, but it
had never held any interest for him whatsoever, sexual or
otherwise. But now as he watched the muscles of both ass-cheeks
clench and ripple with every downward thrust, Jacob remembered
how good Nelson's ass had felt just moments before, and imagined
how much tighter, firmer, and hotter Solomon's virgin ass would
feel wrapped around his own meaty eight inches. 

Jacob's dick rose to a full erection, but he knew he could only
dream of plundering his best friend's masculine, untouched
asshole. It didn't matter how close they were, Solomon would sure
as hell punch him in the face before letting Jacob anywhere NEAR
his ass with a hard dick. That knowledge didn't stop him from
enjoying the sight before him, and stroking his dick, still
greasy from Nelson's insides, as he did so. 

His dick now eager for a second release, Jacob jumped to his feet
and walked over to where Nelson was sprawled on the ground. He
kneeled uncomfortably and stretched his legs wider and lower
until his dick fit nicely into Nelson's mouth, muffling the boy's
moans as Solomon continued with his slow but brutally deep
strokes. Nelson wrinkled his nose in disgust when he realized he
was licking a dick still covered in his own ass-slime, but
quickly surrendered to the humiliation and resumed his greedy
sucking. 

Jacob's new position placed him in an awkwardly close proximity
to Solomon's body. Solomon's upper-body arched upward as his hips
thrust downward, his hands pressed into Nelson's upper back for
support. Squatting with his crotch stuffed in Nelson's face,
Jacob found his own face perilously close to Solomon's, so close
that he could see and smell the sweat from his friend's
light-gold forehead dripping onto the shirt covering Nelson's
back. 

At first they were both careful to avoid eye contact,
uncomfortable with this strange and sudden intimacy. Motivated by
lust and alcohol, Jacob eventually dared to lock eyes with his
best friend. The two teenage boys stared into each other's eyes,
uneasily at first, then with the intense affection of a
lifetime's friendship. It was erotic beyond Jacob's wildest
imagination to look at Solomon in this way   so new and yet
seemingly so natural   as they both penetrated opposite ends of
Nelson's body. 

Jacob was shocked to find himself staring at Solomon's red, wet
lips, the lower lip bitten in concentration as Solomon pushed in
and out of the ass beneath him. Jacob wondered what it would be
like to kiss them, then tried to shake the thought from his mind.
Fuck, he thought to himself. Three weeks without pussy and he was
already turning sissy. 

But hadn't he always had a strong curiosity to try new things?
Hadn't he always tried to take the most pleasure he could from
his wretched life? So why should this moment be any different?  

The wisps of dark fuzz on Solomon's upper lip drew him like a
magnet. Jacob leaned a couple inches closer, wondering how his
best friend would react. Solomon turned his head away and closed
his eyes, focused intently on the pleasure of Nelson's bubble
butt slurping tightly on his long pole of a dick. Jacob realized
with disappointment and embarrassment that kissing his friend was
out of the question. 

Urged on by the wet sucking noises and occasional gagging of
Nelson's mouth, Jacob suddenly leaned in and rested his head
clumsily and nervously against Solomon's shoulder. He could feel
and smell Solomon's sweat slowly soaking through the thin
scratchy material of his shirt.  

His friend stiffened but didn't push him away. They remained
locked in that awkward but tender embrace for several minutes.
Jacob inhaled the scent of his best friend's breath and skin as
he enjoyed the feel of Nelson's thick wet lips wrapped around his
dick. For the first time in his life, Jacob felt the onset of
orgasm without hatred or aggression. He felt nothing but intense
love for his lifelong friend, and grateful pleasure from Nelson's
talented mouth.  

Solomon lasted longer than Jacob had the first time, but
eventually shuddered to an intense climax, spitting out streams
of cum to join Jacob's spunk still sloshing around Nelson's
rectum. Seconds later, Jacob spurted five ropes of creamy cum
down Nelson's open throat, his head still laying on Solomon's
bony warm shoulder. 

Like Jacob before him, Solomon had no interest in any further
intimacy with the friend he'd just fucked. He gently slid out
from beneath Jacob's head, pulled his dick out of Nelson's ass,
stood up, cleaned off his dick with a dirty rag hanging nearby,
then hastily returned to his pants and pulled them back on. 

Charlie was still rock-hard and stroking, but shook his head "no"
when Nelson wearily looked back to see if he wanted to take his
turn. Apparently the idea of ass-fucking was still dirty and
unappealing, even for his horny inebriated mind. 

Nelson stood and walked over to him, cum dripping from his ass to
the floor, then kneeled to take Charlie's thick, stumpy pole in
his mouth. Charlie fucked Nelson's mouth like the other two boys
had fucked Nelson's ass, and within a minute or two began
unloading spurts of runny cum into his friend's enthusiastic
mouth. 

Timed almost perfectly with Charlie's climax, Nelson oozed out a
seemingly endless stream of thick cum that ran sluggishly down
his dick into a creamy white puddle on the stable's dirt floor.
He swallowed every last drop of the load Charlie had deposited in
his mouth, then lay out on the ground in a satisfied heap. 

All four boys remained silent after their explosive climaxes.
Everybody was afraid to break the hypnotic spell that had made
what they'd done seem okay. Nelson was the first to break the
silence with a quiet chuckle. His chuckle turned into heaving,
full-bodied laughter. The other three boys looked at him as if
he'd lost his mind, then one by one joined him in his hearty,
reassuring laughter. It was a laughter of disbelief in what
they'd just done together, but also a laughter that told the
others everything was going to fine, that they'd leave the stable
that night with their manhood and friendship intact and
unquestioned. 

It had now been nearly two years since that strange night, and
based on outward appearances, Jacob sometimes wondered if he'd
imagined the whole thing. Nobody had spoken of it since, at least
not as a group, and they hadn't repeated the night's
experimentation no matter how drunk the four of them got
together. 

Charlie was loaned out to another plantation and only returned to
Stampley a couple times a year. Solomon took up with a new girl
named Cora, and a few months later the two of them jumped the
broom. 

Jacob still let Nelson blow him every now and then, and they'd
even fucked in the hayloft a dozen or more times in the past two
years, but the rumors of Jacob's infection eventually passed and
he returned to pussy on a regular basis. His encounters with
Nelson were always fun, but deep down Jacob knew he'd always
prefer girls. There was something about their softness and
breasts and plump, jiggling asses that James always missed when
fucking Nelson. 

Still, he couldn't deny there were times now and then when he'd
find himself picturing Solomon's muscled, light-skinned ass or
dark upper-lip whiskers as he pumped his dick in and out of a
girl's mouth or pussy, in those moments wishing, if only for a
guilty second, that his best friend's mouth or ass was the warm
receptacle for his hungry cock that night.

These forbidden fantasies were at the forefront of his mind as he
lay awake on this particular night, waiting for the sound of
Laney's heavy breathing in the bed across the room so he could
stroke off a quick release before falling asleep. 

A booming knock on the door disturbed his thoughts. It was the
overseer Richardson, drunk and mumbling something about Jacob
needing to have the wagon ready for the new Master at dawn the
next morning. Something about accompanying him on a three-day
trip to Columbus and back. 

Richardson slammed the door and howled drunkenly at the moon as
he walked back to the overseer quarters, oblivious to the dozens
of exhausted slave parents and frightened slave children he was
waking from their desperately-needed rest.  

Fuck, Jacob thought angrily. That's just what I fucking need
right now: three days without pussy, driving around Master Walt's
sissy-ass nephew to God only knows what corners of Georgia. 

The news spoiled Jacob's mood for a quick jerk-off. He eventually
fell into a restless and troubled sleep, dreading yet another day
of forced service to the white folks he despised. 

*****************************************************************
***

Any and all feedback is welcome and desired! I would love to hear
advice on how my writing might improve, characters or scenes you
particularly enjoy, suggestions for future characters or
storylines, stories and fantasies of your own, and anything else
you might want to share. E-mail me at <a
href="mailto:WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com">WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com</
a>. 



 



 


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