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Brothers in Arms

By: Spykke



This is a short vignette exploring the needs of two lonely people.

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I had always enjoyed the autumn. The golden leaves, the particular clarity of the sunlight and the crisp wind giving that fore-warning of the winter. It was particularly poignant therefore that in 1981 my autumn descended in to the darkest of depths of winter. On that gloomy day in October if felt my life end as my beloved wife Janice was lowered into the dark, damp earth.

We had been together since our wedding day in 1945. I had seen that wonderful woman gently change from a petite girl with firm C cup breasts to a mature loving woman. I heard her cries of dismay as she gained the trophies of motherhood -- full, sagging breasts, a slight pudgy belly and stretch marks -- all little things which made me love her more. As she got older, she became more loving. In time my ability to gain and hold an erection failed me. I felt a deep inadequacy as it dawned on me that I could no longer satisfy my wife. Janice just smiled and wiped the tears from my cheek.

"Don't fret love," she whispered. "A good cuddle is enough for me."

Our sex life had always been intense and varied. There had only been one moment of worry when, on our wedding night, Janice had gasped "will that fit in me?" We were both virgins and Janice had never seen a cock let alone full on hard cock. I won't try and con you by saying that my cock is as long as a python because it isn't. It's a little above average length wise but where it is special is it's girth -- I have a real fat one. As it turned out Janice had no trouble slipping it in.

I suppose you want to know a little about me. Well my name is Harry Metcalf and I was born in 1920 in the London Suburb of Wimbledon. My old man was a milkman and my ma was a housewife. I had an older sister called Jennifer. I left school at 15 with an apprenticeship at a local engineering firm where I learned to operate a lathe. I joined the army in 1939 and was assigned to the Royal Army Ordnance Corps. There I learned about explosives.

I spent the war blowing up things and disarming bombs. I did my bit and gained fairly rapid promotion to major. In my line of work, where the officer does all the dangerous jobs, we frequently had officers blown to pieces and the prospects for promotion were better than other regiments. I gave the term "dead man's shoes" a particularly macabre significance. I got a few medals for doing brave stuff but I preferred not to talk about them. There were a lot of braver men who didn't live to receive any honours -- I would rather talk about them.

I met Janice in 1945 and we were married within a couple of months. I stayed on in the army running a bomb disposal team. There was a lot of nasty stuff dropped during the London blitz that needed clearing up. Janice wasn't best pleased but didn't complain. I finally left the army in 1950 and went back into engineering, where I stayed until I retired in 1980. 

I had seen and lived through many horrific events during the war but none had come close to the horror of my finding Janice dead beside me in bed that morning. That warm and comforting body suddenly cold and unresponsive. Those cherry red lips suddenly blue. I took solace that we had exchanged our usual words of love and affection before we went to sleep that night. She died knowing that I loved her.

I wondered around the house in a daze those weeks following the funeral. The house was empty without her constantly cheerful presence. I missed all those silly little things. Her humming as she carried out her various tasks, her laughter as something heard on the radio, the carelessly discarded item of dirty clothing on the bathroom floor, the scent of her sweet body. My emotions were raw and it would take only a trivial thing to trigger my tears. Whoever said that men don't cry hasn't experienced grief. I had lost my true friend, my soul mate. I so wanted to speak with her, tell her the silly things that happened me but I couldn't. The frustration of not being able to speak to the one you love hurts -- it hurts horribly.

My daughters Megan, Sarah and Pauline provided me with as much love and support as a man could ask for. They helped in those dark days following the funeral. They cooked and cleaned house for me and generally helped keep me sane. That was, until the day that they broached clearing out Janice's clothes. They were the only tangible reminder I had. Her clothes had touched her body, absorbed her scent. The task fell to Sarah and I watched in dismay as she packed up the dresses, trousers, blouses and sweaters into bags for delivery to the charity shop.

"They won't want the underwear," she told me. "We'll just throw them out."

I quietly sneaked a couple of pairs of Janice's dirty panties, just as a fond reminder and slipped them under my pillow. Sarah found them one day as she made my bed. She held them in her hand and gave me a curious look. I felt deep shame and wept.

"You don't think I'm a pervert, do you?" I asked her. "They're all I have left to remember her by."

Sarah smiled and carefully folded the panties before putting them back under my pillow.

"If my Martin thinks as much of me as you do of mum I'll be a happy woman."

--------------------

"You really must start going out again," Megan told me one day. "You can't spend the rest of your life moping around the house."

I knew she was right but found it difficult to arouse myself. I had slipped into a life of disinterested apathy, spending my time sitting in my armchair either staring into space or watching television.

"Why don't you go out on a date. There are quite a few widowed women at church."

I looked at her in horror. The sweet widows who attended my church had mutated when they heard I was a widower and therefore 'on the market'. They had circled around me like vultures above a corpse, making no effort to conceal their interest.

"Oh yes," I replied. "There are the lovely widows at church who all want to drag me into bed. Its embarrassing at church now, they flash their cleavages at me or brush against me in the pews like bitches on heat. No thank you."

Megan flushed slightly and grinned. She had always been the shy one of my girls.

"Well how about going to the pub or the British Legion Club, at least get out a bit."

Although as an ex serviceman I was eligible to join the British Legion, I had always shied away from the idea of meeting old soldiers whose horizons were limited to what they did in the war. It isn't that I wasn't proud of my service, I just don't like talking about it. I did my job and there was no need to brag.

I could see that Megan wasn't going to let things go so I finally conceded. The next evening I shaved and put on a blazer and grey trousers -- suitably military attire. The British Legion Club was just off the high street and I walked into the entrance just after seven.

I walked up the stairs into a small reception room. A woman was sat behind a table. I explained that I wasn't a member but wished to join. Once she has established my military credentials she left me for a moment only return with a man roughly my age. "Welcome, I'm Eric Sanders, the membership secretary," he said, firmly shaking my hand.

Eric was a tall, slim man with greying ginger hair. He was dressed smartly and wore a Guards tie. He was clean shaven except for a tidily trimmed moustache. 

"Come on in and we'll have a chat," he smiled.

We sat down in a quiet corner and bought me a pint.

"Well old chap, tell me about yourself," he began with a smile

We chatted for a while until the barman announced last orders.

"Would you like to come around to my place for a drop of decent whiskey?" Eric asked.

------------------------

"Welcome to my castle and domain," Eric announced as he unlocked the door to his modest, semi-detached house. It didn't surprise me to see that the house was perfectly tidy as befitted a military man.

"Come into the sanctum sanctorum," I grinned, leading me into the front room.

I took a double take. The room resembled something from a military museum, filled with book shelves, maps, models and a hundred and one items of militaria.

Eric pointed at a two seater leather couch and invited me to sit down.

"So tell me about yourself," Clive asked as he poured me a generous whiskey, before sitting down beside me.

"I gave him a potted history of my life and described the loss of my wife."

"Yes, its difficult," Clive responded crisply. "I lost my partner a little over a year ago."

"Were you married long?" I asked.

"My partner was male," Eric replied.

I nodded, not sure what to say.

"Clive Burrows was my batman during the war," Eric began. "Our relationship was more than officer and soldier, however. Clive was absolutely loyal to me and I held him in deep affection. We would provide each other with solace during those tough days in the war zone."

"Solace?" I queried, not quite understanding.

"Did you know that there was a tradition in the ancient Greek army that warriors would provide each other with sexual release during campaigns? It wasn't that they were homosexual, just that it provided a fundamental need that could couldn't be provided in the absence of women."

"I see," I responded. "So you and Clive satisfied each other's needs."

"Initially, yes. After the war, Clive had nowhere to live and he moved into this house with me. Rather than being my servant, be became my partner. I was the breadwinner and he kept the house shipshape.

"Have I shocked you?" he asked after a moment.

I considered my feelings about what he had told me. Everyone is entitled to companionship and comfort and does it really matter whether it's with a woman or a man? Provided it doesn't affect anyone then I saw no issues with what I had discovered.

"No, I don't think I'm at all shocked," I finally replied. "I suppose that I had assumed that gay men all had camp voices and behaved in a "gay" fashion, so I guess I'm a little surprised. But to be frank, it doesn't bother me at all."

He nodded and sipped his drink.

"I suppose the British Legion helps your loneliness," a said after a moment.

"Well it occupies my time but it doesn't make the house feel any less empty. I miss the intimacy at night, even a cuddle would help most times."

It was my time to nod in agreement. I knew exactly what he was feeling.

"So tell me about your service and how you got into this military memorabilia thing," I asked, changing the subject.

"Well, the army is in my blood," he began. "We've had people in the King's Dragoon Guards going back to the Indian Mutiny in 1857. It was expected that I would join up."

"I took a commission in the KDG in 1936 and was shipped out to the Middle East in November 1939. On arrival in Egypt we were equipped with South African Marmon Harrington armoured cars, and we fought subsequently as an armoured car regiment. We arrived in the desert in time to take part in the last battle of Wavell's campaign at Beda Fomm"

"So you saw plenty of action," I said.

"That's not the half of it. We were the first to come into contact with the German Afrika Corps under Rommel, and took part in the siege of Tobruk. We were engaged in all the major Desert battles, including the Relief of Tobruk, Gazala, Bir Hacheim, the defence of the Alamein Line, Alam Halfa, and then the advance to Tripoli, the Tebega Gap, El Hamma, the Wadi Akarit and the final push to Tunis. Never a dull moment, I tell you.

"After all that, we landed at Salerno in September 1943 and were the first to enter Naples. I copped a leg wound in Italy and ended up driving a desk."

"When I retired I kept the old mind active by researching my regiment's history and collecting the mountain of stuff I have in this room. Keeps me out of trouble," he grinned.

While I had been listening to what Eric said, I must admit, my mind was elsewhere. His admission of homosexual behaviour somehow excited me. I wonder what it was like to hold or kiss a man. Was it like kissing a woman?

"Want another?" he asked, nodding towards my now empty glass.

"Oh, please."

He stood up with the energy of a man much younger and went to the bar.

Eric was stood facing me as he moved to hand me my refilled glass. His crotch no more than 18 inches from my face. On impulse I reached out tentatively and touched the crotch of his pants.

"Do you mind?" I asked not quite sure what I was saying. Eric put down the glasses on the coffee table.

"If you wish," he replied, his voice slightly husky.

I unfastened his belt and unzipped his pants, sliding them down to his knees. Eric wore classic Y front pants which bulged invitingly. His thighs were pale and covered with sparse ginger hair. Eric shivered as I reached for the elastic waist band of his pants.

My heart was thumping in anticipation and excitement rather like the first time I had touched a woman. My cock was stiffening.

The fact that I was getting aroused shocked me. After a long period of impotence, my body was experience a resurgence. I felt a mixture of excitement but also sadness that this was a betrayal of Janice.

I slid down Eric's pants. I had never seen another man's genitals close up and what I saw excited me. His cock was long, longer than mine but thinner. He was uncut and his cock had a pale, flawless perfection. His balls hung low, the skin of his scrotum slack and wrinkled. I cupped his balls in my hand, enjoying their firmness and weight, and eased his cock into my mouth. His foreskin retracted under the pressure of my lips revealing his silky cock head.

I'm not sure what I was expecting but it was beautiful. Eric's cock had a taste of soap and musk. This almost indefinable smell of maleness. I slowly took all of his cock into my mouth, feeling the initial twitches of arousal. I was operating on autopilot, doing the things that Janice would do for me. I ran my finger gently across the soft skin between his balls and arsehole. Eric's puckered hole twitched at my touch. It opened easily at my touch and my finger slid gently into the velvet hole.

Eric groaned, his cock expanding to the maximum. Obviously I knew how my cock felt but feeling another man's aroused member was sublime. Delightfully soft with a firm inner core. I loved the way his foreskin moved under my tongue and lips. To be truthful, his cock was one of the most beautiful things I had touched.

"Steady on old man, I won't last very long," he gasped.

My response was start sucking gently, I wanted to feel what it was like to have a man come in my mouth.

Many years before, when I was 12, I had wanked for the first time. I remember the sudden surge of pleasure and the spunk jetting from my body. My juice had splashed over my chest, onto my face and into my mouth. I remembered the salty taste of my spunk. I hadn't been repulsed in the slightest. Janice had always enjoyed giving me oral and would greedily swallow everything I produced. Now I anticipated tasting another man's spunk.

I pushed my finger into his body and found the firm mass of his prostrate. That did the trick. I felt his cock swell in my mouth and switch and spasm. His anal ring clenched my finger and I felt his prostrate pulse.

Eric gave a groan as his gism exploded in my mouth. I continued to suck, relishing the warm flood pouring down my throat and the pulsing of his soft, yet firm, cock.

"My god man," Eric groaned. 

He pulled me to my feet and kissed me passionately. His kiss was sweet and sensuous albeit slightly strange given he wore a moustache. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, tasty the salty juice that still lay inside. He pressed his crotch against me.

"Dammit man, it looks like you need some relief," he told me.

He deftly pulled down my pants and grasped my cock in his hand.

"Damn, that's a fat bugger," he grinned. "I might struggle a little to take it."

He kneeled down and began working my cock with his mouth. My immediate reaction was how different it was to getting a blow job from Janice. Eric, being a man, knew all the right places to stimulate and tantalise. He soon had me on the boil. Eric must have realised because he bent over the arm of the couch, presenting his rear to me.

"Ok, old man, in you go but take it steady."

I felt him twitch as he slowly accommodated my cock in his rear. The sensation was wonderful -- a hot, silken glove gripped my flesh. I thrust deeply into my lover, feeling him push back, encouraging me. In a moment I was swamped with pleasure as I poured my love into his body.

Needless to say, I found myself in Eric's bed where we continued to taste and experience each other until we were sated.

Afterwards I lay in beside Eric's sleeping form, thinking about all that had happened. 

I felt at peace. I no longer felt alone. I would never forget or stop loving Janice but I knew that my future would be much less bleak in the embrace of my brother in arms.

Brothers in Arms



Brothers in Arms

a love story

by

Robert Reams

I

Preston Dalton, dog tired and filthy, stood in the pouring rain, waiting to die. A quick musket ball to the head might be a merciful eighteenth birthday present. He thought back to his first battle, just thirteen days ago. They had been so pumped up and shiny and gray and confident, eager to drive the Yanks out of the valley and keep them runnin' 'til the Fourth of July. Then the Yankee artillery had begun. On the first barrage Jamie Wells had been taken, screaming, into the next life. When the smoke cleared, they had seen the long blue mass of infantry rifles. The Lieutenant waved them forward and they had begun to die. Within a few minutes, men lay screaming and moaning all around him. Somewhere to his rear a plaintive voice cried, "Mama, mama," over and over. Musket balls whizzed and whistled around his head like a swarm of bees. A ball had slammed into the butt of his musket, ripping it from his hands, and he had wet himself.

Since then, he pretty much figured himself a dead man. His thighs were chaffed from the scratch of dried urine. He did not ever remember ever having gone so long without washing. When he pulled out his shriveled little penis to pee, the rancid smell of it rose strongly to his nostrils. What he wouldn't give for a long hot soak in the family tub back in Jacksonville. 

In twenty minutes they were to advance again. It seemed crazy to Preston to keep advancing straight into the hell of smoke and fire and death. "Couldn't we jest sneak up on the Yanks from behind or something," he asked himself?

The sergeants and corporals were receiving their orders all up and down the line, grouping their men for the attack. From across the long green meadow, the sound of the other side's advance began. Press's legs felt suddenly weak and shaky. He looked left and right, not really seeking a way out, just sort of hoping. He sighed deeply, affixed the bayonet to his rifle as the sarge was ordering them to do, and waited nervously for the order to charge. Could he really stick its ugly sharpness into a living, breathing man? Poke the blood and life from a lad much like himself?

The ragged line of soldiers began to move slowly forward,dragging him along as if he were tied. The lieutenant's voice rang out. "Charrrgge," and the line moved faster, faster. Prescott couldn't see the enemy, but the buzzing of the lead bees began again. Blood spattered across his face and he hoped beyond hope it wasn't his own. In front of him a soldier twirled, fell. Preston jumped, landed, twisted his ankle and fell. Someone stepped on him, then another. God he hoped he didn't have to, couldn't, get up.

Dirt and grass, small rocks, bits of flesh and blood rained down on him from the constant artillery fire. Musket balls buzzed around him like hornets,often thudding into the ground, close, oh so close to his body.

His honor, his training, his bravery deserted him absolutely. Frantically, in absolute, blind terror he dug in his elbows and knees and crawled wildly away from the noise and confusion. He crawled 'til his elbows and knees bled. Crawled blindly. 

Suddenly the ground disappeared from under him and he fell, tumbling head over heals, he crashed against something very hard. Sight, sound, consciousness left him and blackness swallowed him.

* * *

Sean McFadden lay on his back on the hard ground. Dust and smoke swirled around him, obscuring the battlefield. Cautiously his hands moved over his body, searching for the site of the wound that had driven him to the earth. He laughed thinly when he discovered that only his old deer musket had been hit, its beautiful maple butt, shattered by a musket ball. "Well!" He said to himself as if it were a huge joke, "I guess no one can blame me for not fighting, if I don't have a gun." 

Sean was hardly more than a boy. He had turned 20 on his last birthday. He had never wanted to fight in this damn war anyway. He had taken the fifty dollars from a Dutchman from upstate only because it went a long way to fill the bellies of his eight brothers and sisters. He had thought he could run off as soon as some sergeant's back was turned. But they had watched him constantly during his brief training, sent him south by train, and force marched him to this hellish battlefield, all in a matter of weeks. At an encampment along the route, he had witnessed the firing squad shooting of two deserters, and that had stifled his will to run. 

But now all that was over. Despite the firing, the flak and the moans of the dying, he turned and walked. He walked slowly. Back. Back the way he had come. He wandered for hours, always moving away from the sounds of fighting, moving toward the quiet, the peace. No one stopped him. No one challenged him. No one saw him.

He had no idea how long he had walked, how far he had walked, where he was. It was the gnawing hunger in his belly, the ravening thirst, that eventually roused him, brought him to reality, to life. 

By sheer luck he found an abandoned apple orchard, its farmhouse blown full of holes, its once crisp white fences trampled. He downed three apples immediately, scarcely pausing to chew. Water, he needed water. He went toward the ruined farmhouse. A wooden swing drifted in a lonely arc from the 

arms of a huge oak. A cloth doll lay trampled in the soil. He found the pump, but its handle had been wrenched or blown off, its mechanism worthless. Sean entered the old house in search of anything. He found a worn gunnysack he thought he might fill with apples. Then in a pantry, half a bag of flour and a few wrinkled potatoes. He stuffed them in the sack and drifted upstairs, searching from room to room. From a side window he saw a far off stand of willows and knew that meant water.

Sean reached the river and threw himself face first in the shallows, gulping so deeply he choked. When he was sated, he sat for a time, reason returning. The utter quiet in the midst of turmoil was unsettling and a bit spooky. 

Having no means of transporting water, he decided to follow the river. After several hours walking, he came upon what had obviously been a battlefield. The corpses had been removed, but the odor of decaying flesh and black powder still hung lightly in the air. He had made his decision. He was finished with war and all it meant. He gave no care for which side won or lost. Freedom, slavery, union, all meant nothing to him. Live! He waned to live. 

Fearful that someone might still be around, might see him, he descended into the deep ravine the river cut here, keeping close to the bank and out of sight. Sean heard a sound, froze in his tracks.

The sound came again, a low anguished moan. There! 

From the cliff on one side of the deep ravine a single gnarled willow hung suspended, and beneath it, a body. But not a body, a live person. A boy apparently several years younger than he, pale, ashen, close to death, dressed in the gray of the enemy. The boy's foot was turned half around the wrong way, his ankle obviously broken. For long minutes Sean merely sat and looked at the boy, arguing with himself about humanity and decency and safety and self-respect and danger and. . . "Hell," he said to himself, "I gotta do something!"

He went to the boy and knelt beside him. Though filthy beyond belief, wounded and charred by war, the lad had the face of an angel. His body was slight and slim, very white with deep eyes the color of the clear ocean, his hair a blazing red. Sean had never before been so taken with the looks of another man, but this was different. The rebel boy, though unconscious, radiated peace and gentleness, beauty and innocence. He set about wrapping and splinting the boy's broken bone. During the painful process the lad had cried out, but not regained consciousness.

Sean left the innocent looking boy lying on the bank and went in search of whatever could be found to aid the situation of the two young men. Various detritus of war lie all around the abandoned battlefield, most damaged and useless. Sean found two usable canteens and several blanket rolls in usable if somewhat bloody shape. Just as Sean was about to give up his search and return to the rebel boy, he spotted an irregularity some way down the opposite bank. Making his way to the spot with some difficulty, he struggled through some brambles and nearly fell into a fairly large cave hidden by a grove of willows. Just inside the mouth of the cave, he set down all that he was carrying and spent a few minutes exploring. It seemed a miracle. The cave was clean and high and dry with some soft sandy spots and some large and small rock outcroppings. It would do for shelter, at least for now.

The beautiful rebel boy was barely a burden as Sean hoisted him to his shoulders and carried him to the hidden cave. Sean gathered wood, started a fire, went upstream to collect clear water and started a thin potato soup from the contents of the gunnysack. Some of the water he boiled and set aside to tend the youngster's wounds. As Sean slit the trousers of the boys gray slacks, the lads thin white lips let out a painful moan. Sean leaned and spoke to the boy, attempting to wake him. 

The rebel's eyes opened in fear and he tried to scoot back away from Sean's Yankee uniform, but the effort caused too much pain and the lad nearly passed out again.

"Whoa, easy, take it easy there Reb. I believe the war is over for you! Over for me too if you want to know. You are not too badly hurt and I know a little about it . My uncle was a doctor over in Ireland. Will you let me help you?"

It was all too much for the young southern boy, but he nodded his head in permission. Sean worked efficiently, first cleansing the area with hot water and cutting away the leg of the gray trousers. 

"What's your name, kid?"

"Ah ain't no kid. I turned eighteen last month. And you don't look so old yerself. Ah am old enough to be in this man's army and get wounded, ain't I?"

"I didn't mean nothing by it, take it easy and let me help you. Sean held out his hand to the boy. 

"My name's Sean, what's yours?"

"Name's Preston. Preston Dalton and how come a Yankee soldier wants ta help me?"

"Well, Preston, Three days ago I had just about all I am ever going to take of this war. I am done with it all now and forever, And, well, If it weren't for the war, and I saw you lying there hurt, I'd help you. Wouldn't you help me?"

"Ah dunno, Ah kinda think maybe Ah wouldn't, seein' as how you was a Yankee, probly comin' to burn down ma house."

"Well, anyway, Preston Dalton, you're stuck with me because you have a broken ankle and you are not going much of anywhere without my help. And my name is not Yankee or Damn Yankee, it's Sean. I didn't come down here to kill anyone or burn down anyone's house, I came down to get fifty dollars so my family back in New York wouldn't starve."

"Now listen to me, Mr. Dalton, your ankle is broken and I am going to have to reset it or you will never walk straight again. And this isn't going to be easy. We have nothing to ease the pain and it is gonna hurt like hell. And I would appreciate it if you didn't yell too loud. I don't want either of us to get caught and shot for a deserter. How about you?"

The Reb nodded in mute assent.

"Now here is how it is going to work, I've got you wedged behind a rock so I don't have to put 

my foot in your groin, but I am going to grab your boot and pull hard and turn. You'll probably hear the pop when it's right, then I'll splint it and bandage it and hope for the best. Let me know when you are ready. You want something to bite on, like my pocket knife?"

"Nope, I reckon if you kin dish it out I kin take it." 

" Get ready." 

"Okay, I'm ready."

Sean had to hand it to the Reb. He had barely made a sound as Sean yanked and twisted the fractured joint back into place. But he had passed out from the pain and shock. Sean quickly and easily made solid splints from willow branches and strips cut from their clothing as Preston slept on. Now both their uniforms were shorts and short sleeve shirts.

Sean now recognized the next imperative, food! A couple of half rotted spuds and a few dandelions and wild carrots were not going to do. He left the cave and went exploring.

About two miles down river, and some distance from the bank, the rising hillside gave way to a dense forest. Sean knew it would be full of game, if he could just fashion a weapon. Though both in Ireland and in New York, Sean had been a city boy, and knew nothing of spears and traps and the like, he was determined to procure meat! He found a stout stand of relatively straight poplar and used his pocket knife to sharpen one end of a stick about six feet long. He practiced throwing it at a particular spot and decided he needed to be within about fifteen feet if he hoped to hit anything. That is if 

anything showed up to hit. He knew he had been much too noisy so far, so he found a fallen log and sat quietly hoping that Mother Nature would pity him and send a blessing his way.

As he sat quietly, the vision of Preston's beautiful face and flaming red hair kept flitting into his consciousness. Even filthy and ragged he was a sight to see. "What was it about that boy?"

Sean discovered that the woods indeed teemed with wildlife of all sorts. Many types of birds, of varied colors and shapes and songs, flitted here and there. Black and brown squirrels scampered 

through the trees above his head, and all manner of small beasts, chipmunks and the like pranced and skittered around. But none came close enough. He was about to give up when, seemingly out of nowhere hopped a large furry rabbit. Sean had never eaten rabbit, but had heard that it was not only edible, but tasty. He held his breath, hoping the rabbit would be curious. Remembering the few dandelions and wild carrots he carried in his pockets, he leaned as far as he could and dropped a few to the ground as gently as he could. Very, very slowly, an inch at a time, he raised his makeshift spear over his head and sat perfectly still. Sean's arm was aching and shaking from the effort of holding the spear aloft when the rabbit finally sniffed the air and came toward the vegetables. The beast was so cautious about the unnatural presentation of the veggies, that it took what seemed was forever before it came close and sat and sniffed the air about five feet from Sean. 

I'll only get one shot at this Sean thought as he drove his arm violently down and forward. He had done it! He had managed to pin the rabbit to the earth through one of it's forequarters, where it scuffled and struggled to be free. Sean had never killed a living thing before, but his hunger drove him as he deftly yanked his pocketknife from his slacks, jumped up and threw himself on the pitiful struggling creature. Once the poor creature was finally dead from a series of pitiful jabs of the little knife, Sean secured its ears to his belt and headed back toward the cave. He had no idea how to skin or prepare his prey, but as he trotted back to the cave, his face, hands and shirt covered with blood he had an immense feeling of satisfaction, of the hunter home from the kill. He could understand the primitive need to dance his success before a fire.

As he entered the cave, a rock whizzed past his face, missing him by barely an inch. He dodged and whirled, raised his spear.

"What the fuck? You ignorant fucking southern hillbilly!" He charged forward and pressed his spear against Preston's chest, who had fallen from his effort to attack Sean, despite an injured leg.

"Okay, that's it you fucking bastard! You've got two choices, You can take an oath on your sacred doomed confederacy, never to try to kill me again or, so help me god, I will kill you right this moment."

"You'd believe me? Take ma word?"

"I have to do that or kill you. What choice do I have? But I can't sit around you and be worried that you are going to try to kill me every time I turn my back. So. Swear or die!"

"Okay, okay, Ah swear, I swear on the stars and bars and on Jeff Davis' mother, just don't kill me. Mr. bad Yankee man."

"Okay, now seriously. Neither of us is going to survive this shit if we don't work together. I managed to kill this poor pitiful creature. Do you know how to skin it and all that so we can eat? I am going to the river to wash off the blood. Here Is my pocket knife."

After they had eaten, Sean decided to do something about the filthy condition of their clothing. "Hey Reb."

"Ma name ain't Reb, its Preston"

"Oh That's right. I forgot. Excuse me Mr. Prescott Dalton. Do you think you can stumble around enough to get the fire going a little more? I am gonna wash our clothes in the river, but I wanna dry them by a nice hot fire so we won't be sitting around here a long time without clothes. It would be a hell of a thing to have someone show up and us sitting around with no drawers on. And we are both getting to stink like a bat's rear end."

"Heh, heh, jest how many bat's asses have you smelled, Yankee boy?"

Sean brandished his homemade spear at Preston, but only half seriously.

Sean left the cave for a while and in his absence, Preston stoked up the fire, fanning its weakness with his tattered old campaign hat until the flames soared up enough to banish the smoke up the cave's natural chimney.

After a few minutes, Sean returned. "Okay, I've checked it out and as far as I can tell no one is around for miles. I head some faint sounds of artillery fire off to the west, but I don't think anyone will see our smoke from so far away. Give me your clothes!"

"Huh? What the hell you mean? Oh you mean to wash. Okay." Preston sat and awkwardly worked off his shirt and pants struggling with drawing the pants over his wounded leg until Sean helped him pull them gently off. Underneath, Preston wore red long johns, one leg slit open, the rest so smeared with dirt and piss and shit and blood as to be a dark umber. 

"Those, too," Sean mumbled, pointing.

"The hell ya say? Ah ain't stripping down in front a you."

"Look you dumb hillbilly. What would I want with your nasty bloomers and why would I want to look at yer scrawny ass. But just look at those drawers. They gotta be cleaned or burnt. How can you stand to even have those nasty things on you. And we both gotta stay clean or we'll both get sick."

"What's being clean gotta do with bein' sick Ah don't get it?"

"I'll tell you all about it later. My uncle over in Ireland was a doctor, before the famine, and he explained the whole thing to me. For right now give me the pants so I can clean 'em or I am leaving you on your own. Also, I got this ratty hunk of flag I am gonna wash with our clothes, so we can dip it in the hot water and wash ourselves off. In fact, here take this, put that old ammo can I found on the fire and put some water in it. You can wash up while I am washing the clothes, then I'll take my turn when I get back. We can dry ourselves off by the fire, too."

Sean helped Preston out of his long johns, keeping his eyes turned away from the others nakedness. Once, however, when Preston gritted his teeth and shut his eyes with pain, Sean Looked directly at the other youth. In the crowded New York tenement, Sean had been in close proximity with nakedness of both sexes, but he had never seen anything like this! 

Naked, Preston resembled the copy of Michelangelo's David Sean had once seen in a Dublin museum. His graceful penis, small but beautifully formed, lay nestled in a curly mass of startlingly red hair. Sean quickly looked away, but, curiously, wanted to look again. His interest in another man's cock surprised him. He was not THAT way, but found himself curious nonetheless.

Sean left the cave and Preston began washing his body with the tattered remains of the flag. Even though there was no soap, it felt wonderful to wash himself. He kept the rag as hot and as wet as he could and steamed the filth from his face, holding the steaming rag against his face until it grew chilly, then repeating the process. He kept gradually adding more water from the canteens and waiting until it steamed, then soaking another body part. He wished there was enough water to wash his hair, but he merely wet it slightly and drew his fingers back through it like a comb.




Brothers in Arms



When he began to wash his genitals, he began a remembrance of the time he and his dear Jenny had shared a bath, laughing and exploring and touching. They had both known that he was off to war and probably would not return. His small flaccid penis had doubled in size as he "washed" over and over. He found himself rigid and pointing straight up, nearly ready to cum.

Sean chose that moment to reenter the cave, his arms laden with soaking clothes and himself naked as the day he was born. Sean, appearing not to have noticed Preston's condition as the latter turned quickly away, set the clothes on a large rock and again left the cave. When he returned, however, it was Preston's turn to be amazed. Since both faced the fire as they shoved sticks into the soft sand on which to hang the damp clothes as they wrung them out, Preston could not help but see. 

Sean's penis was the longest, fattest thing Press had ever seen. Not as big as his prize pony, but nearly so. Preston had great difficulty pretending not to notice. What must the other lad think, seeing Preston gaping at him, at his 'thing'. 

Sean laughed out loud. "Don't worry. I am used to that reaction, from the other boys, swimming and stuff like that. And it really scares most of the girls, except of course the pros."

"Well," Preston replied, giggling, "as you can see, Ah'll never have that problem. Hey wait! Ya mean you actually done 'it' with girls? And wha'd'ya mean pros, what's a pro?"

"In the slums of the city there are lots of girls who will do 'IT' . I guess I have done it, oh I don't know maybe a dozen times, and twice with prostitutes, that's what I mean by pros. They have done it all, seen everything."

The talk about doing 'it' had made Preston's cock even harder, but the two boys continued to act as if nothing had occurred. Preston was amazed at Sean's experience and asked if Sean didn't feel sinful and ashamed at what he had done.

"Hell, kid, I was raised with all that religion and sin and stuff, but after the first time I figured the good lord knew what he was doing and why would he make it so good, feel so good. If he meant it to be bad, why didn't he make it feel bad. I don't think much of a god that would trick us on purpose."

They laughed softly together for a few more minutes. Sean went to the river for more water and the two boys chatted softly waiting for the water to heat for Sean's bath. The rebel boy was astonished at how easily Sean accepted their nakedness. Preston had never before been naked with another person of either sex. At first, Preston tried as hard as possible to avoid looking at the Sean's genitals, but after only a while he began to take the others nudity in stride, except he continued to be amazed at Sean's size. 

Despite the warring differences between their positions on "The Union", the boys were fast becoming friends. "By the way," Preston informed Sean, "my friends and family call me Prest."

"How's the leg, Prest?" Sean inquired. "As soon as I have cleaned myself up, I'll take a look at it and change the bandages. I found some stuff to use and I think in the morning maybe we'll try to see if you can walk to the river. I think the cold water will help."

Sean rose and went to the fire. The water was hot and he began to wash himself in the same manner as had Prest. Preston watched Sean wash himself as casually as he would have watched one of his daddy's sows wallow, but inside he was agitated. He could not keep his eyes off that gigantic "thing" hanging so far between Sean's legs, swaying heavily with each of Sean's masculine movements. He wondered what it would be like carrying something that big, that heavy around all day. He wondered if it got much bigger when it got hard, wondered if Sean felt it there all day every day. God it seemed to Prest as though it would make him think about sex all day, feeling that hugeness hanging there. He found himself wondering how it would feel to hold that massive thing in his own hand, discovered he was beginning to get an erection thinking about it, then began blushing. With his fair complexion and flaming red hair, any blush was rampantly obvious.

"'Scuse me, I gotta piss," he said and quickly turned away, hobbling and hopping on his one good leg, over to the spot the boys had decided was the "waste" area, well away from their sleeping area. Once there, though, he watched from afar as Sean completed his ablutions, nearly gasping when he saw Sean draw back his foreskin and stoke himself with the same rag that had touched him. He told himself he was erect because he had been daydreaming about Jenny only a few minutes earlier. Yes that was it, of course, his dear Jenny.

Clothes dried and redressed hours later, the two lads sat and talked about their respective homes, each impressing the other with the deep emotion with which each described his home and loved ones. Both wondered how they could ever have wished to kill each other or others like them. They discussed what they would do next, where they would go, how they would survive. How they would keep from being discovered and arrested and shot for desertion. Through their discussions, like a vein of gold through a seam of ore, ran the unstated fact that each assumed that whatever occurred, they would be together.

Several weeks passed in this fashion. Though Preston's ankle was healing rapidly, Sean was mostly unsuccessful in his hunting and they were slowly starving, their clothes in tatters. One morning, after a breakfast of some skunk cabbage, wild onions and some roots and grubs Sean had dug up, Sean sat Preston down for a talk." Look Prest," he said gently, "we gotta get out of here, head west, find something to eat, someway to survive or we are gonna die. Can you walk well enough, you think, to travel?"

"Do I have a choice?" we gotta move on or we'll die. Not only that but I keep on hearing sounds like the war is comin' back this way. Kin Ah ask ya somethin'?"

"Sure Press, anything." 

"How come ya don't just leave me behind and take off? Ah don't get it?"

"I don't understand either, Prest. It's like we were bound together by some force. Maybe fate or destiny or something like that. Also, er. . . I don't know what, I can't explain it" looking away, unable to meet the rebel boys eyes. "I think I have grown to really care a lot for you and about you in a very short time. Is that er, ah, stupid er. . . (Pausing a long time, searching for the words that wouldn't come.) . . . something?"

"Naw it ain't stupid ya stupid damn Yankee. Damned if Ah don't care a bit about you too." 

Both boys stood together, trying to look at each other, trying not to look at each other, each lad overcome with sudden shyness. Something was happening between them that neither understood , but each felt inextricably bound to the other by some physical or spiritual force as yet unnamed.

* * *

The boys left their cave and wandered steadily westward, avoiding all sights and sounds of the war, scrounging whatever they could find. They kept well away from traveled areas and shied away from human contact. Each boys was afraid he would be shot for deserting his respective army. Sean used a piece of old grapevine to hold up his tattered trousers. He had lost so much weight that his pants just would not stay up. They ate grubs and roots and old vegetables left to rot in fields by the war. Nights were cold and they often slept close together, for they dared build only meager fires.

And as they walked, they talked, shared the boring commonalities of everyday life and the highest and deepest secrets of their dreams The bond between them grew stronger as they became weaker, more interdependent upon one another. Often one would touch the other; a brief scrub of knuckles on the back of the hand as they walked, a poke in the ribs, a tussling of the hair. Their clothing had become so ragged that it concealed almost nothing and each shared an intimate knowledge of the others physique. Sean was sure sometimes, that he saw Prest looking at him, at his maleness, in a more intimate way. And he could barely keep his hands from caressing the other boy. But he kept tight control of himself, of his emotions, for to lose the other to foolish action now was to die, emotionally and probably physically.

Finally, crouched over a small fire, shoulders touching and voices low, they agreed they had go to share their plight with other humans, to find a helping hand, a kindred soul if they were to survive. Later the next day they saw smoke rising from a farmhouse some distance away. They reconnoitered and decided that Prest would simply knock on the door and ask for help while Sean waited in a small copse of trees by a clear winding stream, whose bank would conceal him. The plan was that if Prest were seized, Sean could rescue him, for his presence would be unknown. 

Sean waited anxiously, lying on his belly, keeping his eyes firmly on Prest's back as the young skinny lad approached the house. He was full of fear for Prest and for himself, but they were desperate, dog tired and dirty and nearly dead. Their only hope lay in the possibility of outside intervention. Without help they would starve, would die.

After a few minutes, Prest came running back toward him gesticulating wildly for him to come. The miracle of their luck had come through again. As it turned out, the small neat farm belonged to a Mr. and Mrs. Reagan and their four sons. Quakers. Dead set against this war and all wars. At the huge supper she laid for Sean and Press, she explained to them their Quaker ways, her words full of thees and thous, and thys; told of their family's and their religion's opposition to the war, told of how all five of her men had finally been hauled away from the farm and forced to serve, though all of them served as nurses and helpers to the fallen and the wounded. She read them letters from her husband and sons, full of the sorrow and the horror, the blood and the suffering of the war. She proclaimed the two deserters heroes to have left the war as they had and offered them the comfort and solace of her farm for as long as they saw fit. The one condition: They help her with the chores which now proved more than she alone could handle. The two of them, of course, would have to sleep in the barn. It would not be "seemly" for them to be in the house alone with her through the night.

One night, a fierce thunderstorm shook the barn and the farm. The two boys, sleeping in the barn, were awakened by its fury. After about thirty minutes of rafter shaking rain and thunder, Prestspoke out. "Sean," he called, "Sean?" 

"Yeah, Prest, what is it?"

"Could Ah , er, would it be okay if Ah, er came over and laid by you for a while?"

"What is it Prest?"

"Just could Ah please come over close, okay?"

"Uh, yeah, uh, sure, okay, uh, sure."

Prest scuttled over and sat very close, stuttering and shuddering. Each flash of lightening or boom of thunder caused the rebel lad to jump. In the intermittent flashes of the storm, Sean saw that Prest's face was ashen, his shoulders shaking, hands trembling. "Prest, come closer," Sean said and drew the youngster into his arms. They passed the night, Preston sitting close against Sean's scantily clad body, drawing warmth and comfort from the arms Sean closed tightly around him. Through the long night of the storm, Sean slowly drew the story from the other boy. Years ago a great storm had torn through Prest's farm in rural Alabama. As eight-year-old Prest had raced toward the hurricane shelter, his puny young arms dragging his six-year-old sister along, the twister had torn her violently from his arms and away into the night, leaving Preston physically unharmed. The family had searched for days but never found the petite body of his sister Nell. Days later they wept over an empty box lowered into a grave on a corner of the farm. Ever since that night, Prest had been terrified of storms. He was ashamed of his reaction, being a man now, but could not control his feelings. 

They sat through the long night and Sean held him tightly, his love for the fair boy overflowing, his cock huge and rigid against Prest's thin backside. The need was mighty in him to have this boy, to hold him and possess him and care for him. That need confused and confounded Sean, who had never experienced such feelings toward another male. Though the urge was great, Sean suppressed it, was content to succor his friend, to comfort and protect him through the crisis. Prest must have felt the iron hardness of Sean's need through their meager clothing, but no word of this had ever passed between them.

The next day, after their chores for Mrs. Reagan were through, the two boys went to a wide place in the creek, a tree with a rope swing and a swimmin' hole. "Last one in's a dirty rotten Yankee," Preston yelled, peeling off the plain cotton slacks and shirt Mrs. Reagan had supplied each of the boys and tossing them on a bush before throwing himself headlong into the creek. For several hours the boys played and swam, dunking one another, bodies often touching, often pushing or punching one another in that unique physical male-bonding horseplay which normally passes away with maturity. 

Though Sean could not keep his eyes or his hands off Prest's wonderful body, he was very careful to do nothing that could be taken as directly sexual. He was uncertain of the other boy's re-action and fearful of alienating him by incautious behavior. The erectness of his penis was mostly hidden by its already imposing size.

On the other hand, Prest's own penis was semi-erect the entire time, its smooth length stretching out if not upward, its flawless foreskin tautening to reveal to about one-third of its satiny pink head. Prescott, too, took every opportunity to 'accidentally' brush up against his friend. 

Eventually both boys had stretched out in the smooth grass beside the flowing creek and nodded off into innocent slumber.

Sean awakened slowly. At first he thought he might be in his gramma's house in the city, lying in her backyard. He rolled gently to his side and saw Prest sleeping softly beside him. That brought him back to reality. He gazed on the natural beauty of his friend, his face and body so perfectly formed, like gazing on a dozing angel. But did angels have cocks? Prest's small, perfectly formed cock lay stretched out along the inside of his thigh. His long smooth foreskin covered all but the very tip where the two tiny pink cock lips lay exposed. Throughout its pink length there was not a single blemish or wrinkle. His balls were smooth and almost wrinkle free. The entire package emerged from a fluffy almost translucent bush of pubic hair that was not exactly red, but nearly pink. His stomach was tight and flat and his abs tightly formed, his ribs were clearly visible from months of near star-vation, his pecks nearly flat and totally hairless, his nipples pink and firm inside perfect two-inch circles of darker pink. The rebel boy's arms and legs were as hairless as his chest and firm but not muscular. A stubble of several days covered his cheeks and chin, not quite the fiery red of his hair, which spread over his shoulders like the mane of a young pony. 

The impulse to touch this perfect angel was strong in Sean. He had never touched another man "that way" and had never felt the urge, but the troubles and trials he had shared with Prest had formed a strong bond between them, not unlike romantic love. He sat up and reached out, laying the flat of his open hand softly on that flat white stomach, only inches from the velvety smooth pink sheath of Preston's cock. A huge lump had formed around Sean's Adam's apple. Would his touch awaken Prest to anger and disgust? Gently, oh so gently he ran his open hand down through the pink fuzz. Cautiously he ran his hand over Press' cock and balls, his thumb sliding over the top of the cock toward its tip, his fingers curled gently around the balls. Touching the young rebel's cock was like caressing fine silk. Prest did not immediately awaken so Sean left his hand there for a few golden 

moments. 

What did he want? What was he doing? Where would his actions lead him? These were questions his mind could not answer. He knew only his heart-pounding need to continue. He began softly moving his thumb in small exploratory circles. Prest's body responded. Sean's thumb could feel small contractions beginning in Prest's cock and his fingers felt the corresponding thrum under Prest's balls.

Sean felt a sudden stirring in his own loins, faint beginnings of need and urgency. He circled his friend's penis with thumb and forefinger and began to gently stroke, easing the soft foreskin up and back and exposing the smooth plump pinkness of Prest's cock head. He watched Prest's face closely for any sign of awakening. Preston's eyeballs roamed around behind closed eyelids, but his eyes did not immediately open, even though his penis began to harden and grow. A tiny drop emerged from the head of Press' cock, shining like a precious gem in the afternoon sun.

Sean smiled and nearly laughed out loud when he realized he was licking his lips. Yes. He wanted to lick it, to taste that sweet droplet. What would his future hold if he followed this impulse, now a strong need pulsing through him? Would he be one of "those" boys? A Nancy boy? A queer?

His own cock was turgid now, a bother to him as it had always been. His was not beautiful and slim and pink like Prest's, but long and dark , thick and menacing looking. His foreskin was long and wrinkled throughout its entire length and hung several crinkled inches beyond the end of his cock, his balls long and pendulous, dark and wrinkled. And everything covered with dense unruly curls of thick black hair. 

As he knelt over Prest, several drops of fluid leaked from his hardening cock and fell on Prest's thigh. The redhead stirred. His eyes flashed open in shock. Before he could speak, Sean laid one finger across Prest's lips to silence him, took the pale delicate hand and laid it upon his own dark thick cock.

"You asked once if you could hold him, feel his weight," Sean said. "There he is!"

Neither lad spoke. Sean continued his stroking, unsure if the other would succumb to his affections or reject him outright. The younger boy moaned softly from deep in his throat, neither releasing Sean's massive cock, nor stroking it; merely holding it and gazing back and forth between the two cocks.

Sean began to stroke harder, faster. Almost immediately, Prest's legs went taut, his back arched, and he shot a large glob of thin white cum into Sean's hand and across his own taut stomach. Sean was amazed at the feel of the other boy's ejaculation. It felt so different than when he stroked his own cock. He looked at the other boy's cum on his hand, looked into Prest's pure blue eyes, held his gaze and brought his hand up to his lips. Prest's essence tasted of pure spring water with a touch of something deep and unknown, unusual, but not unpleasant.

Preston lay still for a moment, taking in all that had happened, then jumped up wordlessly, walked quickly to the tree, retrieved his clothes and began dressing, his back to Sean, his reaction unreadable.

Sean went also to the tree and began dressing. "You gonna say something?" No reply.

A few minutes dragged by in silence. Preston kept his back turned resolutely to Sean.

"Hey man you have to say something."

"Whatcha want me ta say?"

"Something. Anything. Whatever it is you're thinking."

"Ah don't know what ta think. All that talk about the girls you've had! You a queer? Saving my ass, takin' care a me, jes so you could . . . could. . . What? Seduce me? Turn me inta one of you? Fer yer own pleasure?"

"So you didn't enjoy what I, what I , what we, just did? And what about all that : ' kin I touch it, hold it some time? it must be heavy'."




Brothers in Arms



"Tha's different!"

"How? How is it different? You think I'm queer? You think I've done this before? How do I 

know you're not the one whose queer. Maybe you were laying there just waiting for me to do something. And I didn't see you jumping up and running away screaming. Look, if I hurt you, pissed you off, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, to hurt you. If anyone had told me a few weeks ago that I would touch another guy. . . like . . . you know, like that, I would have punched him. But these last weeks, being with you. The feelings I been having about you. I don't know. I don't know anything. You were just lying there looking so. . . so. . . beautiful, I just reached out. I ... I just couldn't help myself." Sean reached out and grasped Prest's shoulder, turning him to see his face.

"Damn you Sean McFadden! Damn you to hell!" Tears were streaming down Preston's face. "Why the hell did you think you had to rescue me? Ah would'a been okay. Ah would'a been jes fine. Now what am Ah gonna do. Ah gotta girl back home. How am Ah gonna? . . . I mean now that ya. . . . now that I . . . You think Ah ain't had feelings? You think Ah haven't wanted to . . . to. . . Oh Hell! Just Fuck you Sean, Just fuck you!" Preston turned away and ran off toward the Reagan farmhouse.

Sean stood there in the gentle shade by the running stream, the afternoon sun warm on his shoulders. Birds chirped merrily in the trees, the peace and serenity of the setting belying the storm which raged within him. He never wanted this. He made his way slowly back to the farmhouse that had been their refuge for so many weeks. He had really done it now, screwed up everything. Preston would probably never talk to him again. What would he do? Where would he go? Things could never be the same now that he had, well, done what he had done. But if he wanted it so much, if it felt so , so good, how could it be wrong? And he knew that really, down deep, Prest had wanted it too. Didn't he? Well, damn it, didn't he? He guessed that was what it all boiled down to. Did Press really want it? And if so did he know what he wanted. Would he admit he wanted it too? Why did life have to be so fucked up? All he wanted was to love, to care, and to have someone love and care back.

As he crested the small hill, Mrs. Reagan was clanging the bell to announce supper. For a moment he forgot his troubles, for the hunger of the past several weeks still stayed with him, gnawed at him. He hurried forward to supper.

All through supper and the pleasant chat by the fire afterward, Prest had been glancing at him with a dour, unreadable look on his face. At dark,the two boys lay alone in the loft of the Reagan's barn. The silence was loud and accusing in Sean's head. Had his actions earlier ruined his friendship with Press forever? Aside from "that" (whatever it was that was happening to him), or maybe because of that, but also because of the trials and terrors and hardships they had suffered together, It was a friendship Sean had grown to treasure. He decided to sound out his friends feelings.

"Hey. Hey Prest?"

"Yes. What?"

"You ever going to talk to me again?"

"Maybe not."

"You going to at least tell me why not?"

"Ah think ya know that."

"No. Not really. What did I do that was so bad?" Sean at least had Prest talking now, maybe he hadn't lost him yet.

"Ya know, ya never have no thought for no one else's feelin's. Ya just barge ahead and do whatever ya want. Maybe think later."

"Well, yeah, that's what I did when I stuck my neck out to save the life of a no-account Reb."

"And ya ain't never gonna let me fergit it are ya?"

"I hope not."

"Well, ya know what we, Ah mean you, did back there at the pond earlier, ya know. AH mean Ah ain't never even done that ta myself. I was brung up right. I was taught it was a sin ta do all that stuff. Ah ain't even never done nothin' more than kiss ma girl Jennie . We was supposed ta be keepin' ourselves fer marriage. Now look what ya gone and done. Nothin' ain't never gonna be the same again. Nothin' ain't never gonna be right again."

"I sincerely hope not," Sean replied.

"Now wha'd'ya mean by that?"

"I mean if we were doing what was 'RIGHT', what we are supposed to do, what everyone except Mrs. Nixon says we are supposed to be doing, we'd be killing each other. In my way of thinking, THAT would be the real sin. I don't believe in 'sin' any more. I have already been to hell out there on that battlefield. And what I did with you earlier is the closest I have yet come to heaven.

My God Prest, can't you see it? Can't you feel it? Don't you know we love each other with the kind of love only two people can have who have been through hell together? That night, the thunderstorm, remember, you in my arms?"

"Ya mean love each other like in love? Hell we can't be that we are both men. That'd be. . . Well that'd mean we was, you know, queer, homosexual er sumthin'. How could that be?"

"I don't know. Do you think I have ever thought of myself that way. Well, I haven't. But I don't know what you call it. I don't care what anybody wants to call it. I just know I can't see myself living the rest of my life without you. How about you? Could you just walk away tomorrow and never see me gain? Well?"

The long pause was excruciating for Sean. How would Prest answer? His heart began to ache with the thought that his friend might give the wrong answer. Or maybe the wrong answer would be the right answer for his life. What was he getting himself into? Where would they go? What would they do? How would they live? Would there be a 'they'? Should there be? 

"Well, listen Sean. Certainly Ah've grown ta care fer ya a whole lot. And sure Ah want to stay with you. But Ah thought maybe jes as friends, not that other thing."

The loft was so quiet during the long interval while Sean composed his answer, that the two boys could hear the hay shuffling in the breeze that blew through the cracks in the old barn.

"Preston Dalton, I think you are a liar. I think you are lying to me and to yourself. How many times have I caught you looking at me, at my body, at my penis, my PRICK? How many times have you said to me in a half-joking manner that you would like to feel how heavy it is? This afternoon while we were swimming, how many times did you rub up against my body 'accidentally'? How many times did I see you start to reach out to touch it and pull your hand back? How many times in the months we have been together have you taken a piss at the same time as me, just to look at me, at it? Are you going to deny it to my face or admit it to yourself?"

Even in the darkness, Sean could see the other boy blushing. When Preston finally got his voice back, when the blushing and stuttering subsided, Preston said, "Ah know it Sean. Yer right. Ah have them funny feelings. Ah cain't keep the picture of yer huge 'thing' out of my mind. But thinking ain't the same as acting and now we have sinned together. You made up ma mind fer me before Ah ever got to think about it, sort things out. And. . . and Ah don't know what to think now. What is my . . . er . . . our life gonna be like now? Ah can't imagine living like. . . you know like. . .that. Ah just don't know."

"Well, Prest, I know how I feel. I love you. I can't sleep for thinking about you, about being with you, holding you. I don't know where these feelings come from, where I am going with them. I never had them for anyone else, not even for all those girls I have slept with. I just know that anything so beautiful as what I feel for you can't be bad. And that I'd be willing to put up with almost anything to be with you, to stay with you. Maybe we could pretend to everyone else that we are brothers or something like that. Please take your time, take some time think it over, but please don't say no to me, to our lives, together."

end of part one



Brothers in Arms Ch. 01



The chapel was dark, lit dimly by the light of a few guttering candles. Samuel hid in the shadows, waiting and watching. Soon enough, he heard light footsteps on the wooden floor. A tall figure stopped at the altar, knelt briefly, then turned in Samuel's direction.

"I can hear you breathing," the figure said quietly, his voice deep and rough. 

Samuel grinned and stepped out from the shadows. "You always were too keen for your own good." He moved closer to the tall figure and embraced him. 

"It is good to see you after all this time."

"And likewise you, my brother," the man replied, tightening his arms around Samuel briefly and then holding him at arm's length. "You've grown older."

Samuel chuckled ruefully, "But unfortunately not wiser, I'm afraid. It seems I can't do anything right these days."

"Things must be going terribly wrong for you to have summoned me," the deep voice remarked.

"A truer word was never spoken, Jonah. Come, walk with me a while and I will tell you everything." Samuel said, turning to walk out the side door.

"Wait," Jonah said, hesitating. "Is it...?"

Samuel turned, and the guttering candles glittered in his sad eyes. "That is one of the things I must tell you. Now come, before someone sees us together."

Jonah put the hood of his cloak over his head and followed Samuel out. A wintry breeze was filtering through the forest as they walked, their footsteps softened by a carpet of pine needles. Jonah sniffed deeply, relishing the aroma of the pine trees and the perfume of the crushed needles. He knew exactly were Samuel was leading him, although he had not been there in many years. When he and Samuel were boys, they had run through these very woods so often he could have navigated them in his sleep. Many things change, Jonah thought to himself, but the forest is ever steady.

As they reached the small hut hidden in the trees, Samuel stopped at the door and beckoned Jonah in ahead of him. Jonah, wary as always, hesitated, then walked in with his hand on the hilt of his dagger. Seeing at once that the single room was empty save for some rough pieces of furniture, he relaxed and stepped aside to let Samuel in.

Once inside and seated, Samuel and Jonah both removed their hoods and looked closely at each other. Although they were not twins, they bore such a striking resemblance that most people who met them thought they were. Samuel was the elder by two years, but it was hard to determine either of their ages. They were both tall and strikingly handsome. Dark-haired and broad-shouldered, they were slender but strong. Although they both had brilliant green eyes, Jonah's eyes were that of a hunter. He was born to fight, and there was not a weapon invented he was not the master of. Samuel was a fighter as well, although he had ultimately chosen a milder life than that of his younger brother. Both had been raised by a hard man, a man who believed one had to fight for all the good things in life. Although Jonah was the younger brother, he was sent to be apprentice a master-at-arms and learn to fight for his living, while Samuel remained behind to tend to the family business of breeding and raising horses. He had toyed with the idea of becoming a monk, but soon gave that up because he loved women and was too vulnerable to so-called sins of the flesh. He knew he would not be able to remain celibate. His father, Rowell, had different ideas - he was convinced Samuel would have been too tempted by the flesh of the other men in the monastery and that was why he had chosen against that life. Little did he know it was his other, favored son for whom this temptation was so great.

"So, brother. Enough skulking about. Tell me why you've called me home," Jonah said. 

"It's Theo," Samuel said shortly.

Jonah felt his breath catch in his throat. "Is...is he...?" he stopped, unable to continue.

"He's fine...for now," Samuel said. "He's in hiding at the moment."

Jonah stood abruptly, "I must go to him," he said desperately, walking past Samuel toward the door.

Samuel reached out and took his sleeve in an iron grip, surprising Jonah into stopping. "Softly, brother," he said, soothingly. "You need to hear the whole story first, then I will take you to him."

Jonah peered hard at Samuel, trying to gauge the depth of his sincerity. Samuel sat, looking back at him mildly, knowing Jonah's innate trust of him would win out. Soon enough, Jonah sat back down with a sigh.

"Theo has found your absence to be very...difficult," Samuel began. Jonah winced. He was well aware of how difficult it was to be apart. He had succumbed to temptation often enough during his absences from home, but he never once doubted his love for Theo or acted upon any impulse he felt would harm Theo in any way.

"As have I," Jonah said, somewhat defensively.

"And yet, you remain away while he remains here, with memories of you surrounding him every day," Samuel said reprovingly.

Jonah bowed his head, feeling a flush creep over his tanned face. "As you say, brother."

"There have been others for you, I assume?" Samuel asked.

Jonah raised his head defiantly. Samuel had the courtesy to blush at this outlandish question, but he did not back down.

"A few," Jonah admitted, "but Theo knew. I have never kept that side of me from him, nor have I ever implied he was not allowed similar liberties while I am away."

"That may be so," Samuel said. "Nevertheless, he has chosen to act out. More so than perhaps your...er...agreement with him was intended."

"For the sake of the gods man, out with it! What has he done that is so vile you summoned me with such urgency?" Jonah demanded.

Samuel sighed, "Oh, Jonah. He has generally been discreet out of respect for you, and those few in the village who know have been willing to overlook his...trysts...due to his reputation and his skill as a soldier. This time, however, he has gone too far. He has fixed his attentions on the son of the constable."

Jonah groaned. "Not Constable Priam?"

Samuel grimaced. "Yes, the very same."

Jonah was stunned. He knew what he and Theo had together was considered abhorrent by many villagers, but some tolerance was shown in certain cases. One of the reasons he had chosen to spend so much time away from home was because he feared he would not be able to keep their relationship a secret, for whenever they were together something overtook them and they could not hide their feelings. He was desperate to keep his true nature from his father, so he spent most of his time on the battlefield, covering himself with glory and pleasing his father no end. Theo was not part of the traveling army, instead being stationed in the village to help keep the peace and protect it from marauders, which meant the two lovers spent months, sometimes years, apart. It was difficult, to say the least.

Jonah was better able to tame his desires when he was away from Theo, but Theo was not as disciplined. Constable Priam was constantly on the lookout for those who chose to engage in illegal behavior, so for Theo to have dallied with his son - and to have been caught out - was incredibly dangerous.

"Tell me what happened," Jonah said, his heart trembling with fear for Theo.

"Apparently, this has been going on between them for some time," Samuel said. "They have been sneaking around for months, according to what Theo told me. They were hiding their assignations well, for I had no inkling anything was going on, nor did anyone else. About a month ago, Priam left on a journey to Richbourg, which should have taken him the better part of a week. He had not been gone an hour before Stephen had Theo in his bed. They were...er...in the act when Priam returned unexpectedly, having forgotten some document or other he was meant to take to the constable in Richbourg. He walked in on Stephen and Theo and flew into a rage, calling for Theo's arrest."

"Dear god," Jonah said weakly. He could just imagine the scene.

"Stephen somehow managed to help Theo escape, and he came running to me, pleading for my help. Naturally, knowing what he means to you, I helped him."

"And for that I give you my deepest thanks, brother," Jonah breathed fervently.

"However," Samuel said, "Priam had Stephen publicly flogged and then imprisoned until he confesses his sins, renounces his vile nature, and tells Priam where Theo is hiding. Stephen has so far held out, but I fear he won't much longer. Theo is in grave danger, brother."

"So he is, the fool," Jonah said, beginning to get angry. "And now I suppose I'll need to rescue Stephen as well, or I'll never hear the end of it from Theo."

Samuel shifted uncomfortably. "Jonah...you know I cast no judgment upon you for your...inclinations. I never have, and I never will. You are my brother, and I love you with all my heart."

"I know this," Jonah said, surprised at Samuel's words. 

"I must ask, though - why would you risk your life to rescue Stephen, knowing he and Theo have been together all these months while you've been away?"

Jonah shrugged. "I'm not threatened by Stephen. For Theo, he is an attraction, yes - perhaps even more so due to the forbidden nature of who his father is - but that's all. We are both free to do as we please while we are apart, and have always been so. It would be too much to ask for men with drives like ours to remain celibate while apart, so we don't ask that of each other. Still, I know Theo, and he will shoulder the blame for Stephen's imprisonment. He would never forgive me if I didn't try to help."

"I...I see," Samuel said.

Jonah allowed himself a small, grim smile. "No, you don't, but it's enough that you helped Theo in my absence. That's all the understanding I need. Now, take me to this fool and let me deal with him as I see fit."

The brothers left the small hut and headed deeper into the woods. After an hour or so of hard walking, Samuel appeared to be heading right into a large rock. To Jonah's surprise, he disappeared as he approached it. Cautiously, Jonah moved forward, looking intently at the undergrowth, until he noticed Samuel's arm beckoning him. There was a secret path, completely invisible to the eye. Jonah chuckled - leave it to Samuel to find a place like this.

As he ducked his head and entered what ultimately turned out to be a large cavern, he stopped to let his eyes grow accustomed to the light cast by a fire toward the back of the cave. Samuel was in front of him, and gestured at a figure kneeling beside the fire, his naked back turned toward the mouth of the cave. Jonah's heartbeat quickened and his stomach tightened at the familiar sight of Theo's strong young back and broad shoulders. Samuel watched him, sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

"Theo," Jonah said, his voice husky.

Theo turned in surprise and stood up, his jaw dropping as he saw Jonah standing there. He looked at Samuel, gratitude in his eyes, then rushed over and flung himself into Jonah's arms. The two men kissed fiercely, and Samuel, although embarrassed, could not tear his eyes away. He had always known of his brother's inclinations, but had never actually seen evidence of it. He was a bit discomfited to feel himself becoming slightly aroused at the sight of these two tall, muscular men running their hands all over each other's bodies, their love and lust for each other plain to see.

They broke apart, panting, then Jonah shocked Samuel by drawing his right fist back and slamming it into Theo's jaw, sending him flying. Theo landed flat on his back and then, quick as a cat, was on his feet again and rushing at Jonah, growling in anger. The two men, equally matched, grappled one another for purchase until Samuel was finally able to pry them apart. The stood, facing each other, panting, as Samuel held them apart with his hands.

"Jonah!" he exclaimed. "What the devil...?"

"You stupid oaf!" Jonah shouted. "What were you thinking?"

"Damn you, Jonah!" Theo cried, "What right do you have to..."

Jonah pushed Samuel aside and wrapped Theo up in his long arms, crushing him against his body. Theo struggled at first, then realized with a shock that Jonah was sobbing. Samuel was shocked, as well. He could not remember ever seeing Jonah cry.

"Oh, Theo...Theo, my love. You have really done it this time," Jonah moaned, still holding tightly to his lover's body. Theo began to run his hands up and down Jonah's back, murmuring in his ear, soothing him. Samuel watched, unable to stop staring at them. Theo and Jonah, seeming to forget Samuel was there, began to slowly caress each other. Jonah was still wearing his leather traveling clothes and cloak, but Theo was dressed only in a pair of soft pants and leather boots. Gently, Theo began to undress Jonah, kissing him gently on the lips, neck, and chest as he hungrily reached for the front of Jonah's trousers. Jonah groaned as he felt Theo's hand close over his rigid member, and Samuel found himself groaning as well. He stood up abruptly and turned to leave, but got no further than the cave entrance before he turned to watch again.

The two lovers were completely oblivious to his presence. Theo had finally gotten Jonah's belt undone and was lowering his trousers, grasping Jonah's erection in his strong hands. Jonah moaned again and forced Theo to his knees. Samuel gasped as Theo leaned forward and took Jonah's huge erection in his mouth. He had heard of men doing this, of course, but had never seen it happen. He was riveted to the sight of Jonah's long hard shaft sliding in and out of Theo's mouth. Jonah placed his hands on Theo's head, his hands tangled in Theo's long dark hair. Samuel could hear his harsh breathing as he murmured to Theo.

"Yes, my love. Yes, just there. Ohhh..." Jonah moaned, moving his slim hips in time to the rhythm of Theo's sucking. Theo reached into his own trousers with one hand and pulled his cock free. Samuel gasped again, for it was even larger than Jonah's at full erection. Theo began stroking himself with long, slow strokes as he continued to take Jonah deeper into his throat. Samuel groaned at the feel of his own cock growing harder and rubbing against his rough trousers. He clutched himself, trying to will his erection away, but it was no use. Reluctantly, feeling as though he was condemning himself to hell, he slid his hand inside his trousers and began to stroke his cock. 

Jonah pulled Theo up and began kissing him again, their mouths crushed against each other. Samuel watched, panting, wondering how it must feel to have a man's rough beard pressed against one's skin. Theo was clean-shaven, but Jonah had worn a trimmed beard since he was able to grow one. Unconsciously, Samuel moved closer, watching the interplay of their tongues as they kissed with growing passion. Jonah reached his arms around Theo and, cupping his muscular buttocks, pulled him in closer. Theo made a sound deep in his throat, reaching in between them to stroke Jonah's cock. Jonah moved his hips back and forth and Samuel could see the tip of Theo's cock rubbing against the hair on Jonah's hard belly. This interplay continued for a time, Samuel watching and stroking himself, wondering what it must feel like to have another man's cock in one's hand or mouth.

Just as Samuel was about to explode, he was shocked to see Jonah turn Theo around and pull him in tight, so they were standing back-to-chest. Jonah was about two inches taller so he had to bend slightly as he took one of Theo's ears in his mouth. Theo moaned and reached back, pulling Jonah in closer to him. Jonah began thrusting gently into Theo, and Samuel saw Jonah's hand reach around and begin stroking Theo's rigid cock. Samuel could not believe how thick and long Theo's cock was, and he wondered how Jonah was able to take it in his mouth if he ever did such a thing. Theo turned his head slightly so they could continue kissing, then suddenly pushed Jonah's hand away.

"Take me now, Jonah. Please, take me now. It's been so long," he gasped.

Samuel's mouth went dry and the hand on his cock went still as he watched Jonah bend Theo over, then spit on his hand and lather his cock with it. They were side on to Samuel, their hard bodies outlined in firelight, and he could see Jonah's cock disappear as he slid himself inside Theo. Both men grunted, one in pain and one in pleasure, then Jonah began to fuck Theo frantically, pulling Theo's hips to him as he slammed in and out. Theo cried out in pain but didn't pull away, instead reaching behind to pull Jonah in deeper. Jonah's body was slick with sweat, his muscles gleaming, and he was panting, talking to Theo as he continued thrusting harder and harder.

"Was Stephen this good, Theo? Was he? Did he slide his thick cock up inside you like this?" Jonah grunted. Samuel was shocked. He had never in his wildest dreams imagined his brother behaving in such a way.

"Ohhh Jonah..." Theo moaned, gasping as one of Jonah's thrusts went particularly deep. "Stephen's cock is not as big as yours...he could never fill me like you do..."

"Did you fuck him, Theo? Did he feel your huge cock split him in two?" Jonah said furiously, pumping even harder. Samuel felt as though his heart was going to explode from the intensity of their...lovemaking? He hardly knew what to call it. 

"Gods yes...yes...he was so tight the first time...a virgin boy...and I broke him in..." Theo gasped. Jonah groaned and reached around again to grasp Theo's cock, stroking him roughly as he thrust harder and harder. Both men were gasping for breath now, sweat-slicked bodies gleaming in the firelight. Samuel's hand went back to work, stroking his cock faster and faster, knowing he was going to explode soon. He felt Theo couldn't take much more, and just as he felt his own cock begin to throb, both Theo and Jonah cried aloud. Samuel saw thick white seed shoot from Theo's cock as he cried out, then his own seed exploded out of him as he saw Jonah stiffen and pull Theo toward him, thrusting faster with each throb of his spewing cock.

"Gods yes!" Jonah shouted, pushing himself further in as Theo shouted encouragement. Samuel squeezed his cock, amazed at how much was shooting out, trying to control his ragged breathing so the lovers would not notice him. Immediately ashamed and horrified at what he had just done, he backed away as quietly as he could and walked out of the cavern and into the forest. He was trembling, his breath steaming out, and he realized his cock was still outside of his trousers. He grabbed it to put it back in, but as he touched himself he was overcome with such a wave of desire that he groaned, stiffening again. He went to a tree with a thick trunk and sat down with his back against it, closing his eyes as he began to stroke himself again.

"I can never tell Jonah what I just witnessed," he thought to himself. He tried desperately to think of all the times he'd had sex with women, how it had felt the first time a woman held his cock and stroked him, the first time he had penetrated a woman and licked her cunt, but the images he had just witnessed kept coming back to him instead. The raw, rough power of the sex between his brother and Theo was shocking and intense in a way Samuel had never experienced before, and he could not stop wondering what it must feel like to have strong, rough hands touching his entire body...to feel a strong, warm mouth and tongue kiss him and suck him and...

Before he realized it, he was stroking faster and harder, making his cock throb. He exploded again, muffling his cries in his cloak. Panting, he wrapped himself up and, dreaming of men's bodies and mouths and cocks, fell into a deep sleep.



Brothers in Arms Ch. 02



Not a word was shared between the boys at breakfast and each was set at different chores for the day. Supper passed, the chat being mostly about the farm and chores completed. Preston went first to the outhouse and then to the pump to wash up while Sean and Mrs. Reagan cleaned up the table and kitchen. After Sean had washed thoroughly he went to his bed roll in the barn loft. Surprise stopped him short. Prest was not there, but his bed roll had been moved close beside Sean's. A note rested on Sean's pillow. "Gone for a short walk to clear my head. I wont be long. Don't go too crazy becuz I ain't sure jest what Ah'm sayin' yes to yet."

Sean debated with himself for a short time, then made his decision. Though the night was autumn chilly, he pulled off his rough cotton sleep shirt and lay naked beneath Mrs. Reagan's home made quilt, breathlessly waiting for Prest's return. Shortly he heard sounds of the barn opening and Prest climbing to the loft. A huge smile involuntarily stole across his face. He waited in silence while the other boy slipped under the adjoining quilt.

"Sean?"

"Yes Prest?"

"Ahm, er, Ah guess Ah'm kinda sorry for the way Ah acted. Ah still ain't sure 'bout none a this, but when Ah thought about it fer a bit, Ah decided, well, I don't know what sactly, but yer right 'bout one thing. Ah cain't see me goin' nowheres without you. Ah kinda become , well, er, attached to ya."

Sean waited in silence not sure if Prest was going to go on, say more.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well ain't ya gonna say sumthin?"

"Prest?"

"Yeah?"

"How would you feel about scooting over here against me and letting me put my arms around you the way I did the night of the big storm?"

Wordlessly, the rebel lad slid his bed roll over and curled his backside up against the bigger boys middle, dragging his own quilt along. After a few minutes Prest began to giggle. 

"So what's so funny," Sean asked?

"Well, yer arms ain't the only thing Ah remember 'bout that night. Ah seem ta remember this, too!" And as he said this, the small southern lad reached behind him and grasped the Yankee's stiffening penis, surprised to find it unencumbered by clothing.

In the near total darkness of the barn, neither boy could see the other, not his hands, nor his body, nor his eyes, nor the expression on his face. Each had only the sighs and gasps, the moans and whispers of the other to guide him as their first mutual exploration began.

Sean was, at first, very very cautious. He knew the smaller, younger boy had no sexual experience of any kind and adjusted his behavior so as not to do too much too fast. He made no move to disrobe Preston. But since his arms were already around the other boy, he firmly but gently cupped Prest's cock and balls from outside the long Johns the other boy still wore. The young lad sighed deeply and involuntarily pushed his hips forward to Press his genitals more firmly into the cup of Sean's hands. Sean whispered softly into the youngster's ear. "It feels wonderful to hold you like this!"

Sean's warm breath on his neck and shoulders excited Prest deeply. His mind, his conscience, his religious upbringing, even his feelings about his own 'manhood' started his mind roiling with doubt and guilt. What was he doing? He was about to reject every thing he had ever been taught, every principle that had been drilled into him. But on the long walk from which he had just returned, he had become resolute. He had decided what he felt for Sean was love, the real thing. He didn't care what anyone thought back home, what anyone said. The thought of not having Sean, of never seeing him again, of not having him in his life, brought a cold illness deep into his innards. 

He responded, moving Sean's hands away, then putting them back again, under the waistband of his pants, so his bare balls and rapidly growing cock lay tightly cupped in Sean's hands. Immediately he felt Sean's huge cock hardening against the tight cleft of his ass cheeks. Amazed by the feeling of rightness, of belonging, this caused in him, dazed by his feverish reaction, Prest again reached back and squeezed Sean's cock tightly. 

Sean moaned into Prest's right ear, whispering, "Yes. Oh yes! That feels so good, so right."

Suddenly, Prest released his hold on Sean and moved away into the darkness. Sean was, at first taken aback by the sudden bareness of his arms, but after a bit of rustling, Prest returned to lie facing Sean, his clothes discarded, his cool, lean , silky body full up against Sean's dark muscular frame, his fine thin penis sticking straight up between their bodies.

"There, is that better?" Prest inquired playfully.

"Much better." Sean replied. running both his large hands up and down Prest's back and shoulders, legs and buttocks.

Preston reached between their bodies and grasped Sean's hardness, barely able to close his fist around its thickness. Sean's hands on Preston's fine butt cheeks dragged him closer, drawing him forward and up so the thinner cock slid up and down against his larger mass and the hand that enclosed it. Soon their bodies were moving in unison, their cocks sliding against one another, both oozing trails of thin slippery fluid. Preston began to gasp and thrust his hips harder, but Sean grabbed him and stilled him. "Not yet, Prest, please!" he murmured. Sean's hands roamed over the youngster's fine sleek body, touching, probing. One fingertip slid tentatively between Prest's butt cheeks, slipping over that tenderest spot of all. Unexpectedly, Prest moaned in pleasure and pushed his ass back against the seeking finger, almost but not quite causing entry.

Sean rolled so that the younger, smaller boy was under him. He began to move his hips all around so his heavy slippery cock roved around Prest's body, hands pressing down on his shoulders holding his lover tight against the bed of hay, guided only by the feel of the boys body parts against his tender cock head. The wet tip, about three quarters out from his foreskin now, traveled around Prest's stomach and chest, up and down his arms, dipped into his underarms, circled his neck and touched his chin, then made its way back down across Prest's flat belly, up and down his thighs, over and around his cock and balls. Prest's thin shaft was stretched so taut he felt it would burst. Its full pink head now fully exposed, its cock lips flowing with pre-cum. He was panting heavily, but each time he sought to thrust, to seek relief, Sean would lay heavily atop him, subdue his eagerness, and begin anew.

After a while, Sean paused, kneeling between Prest's legs, his heavy cock dripping wetness onto Prest's belly. Sean released Prest's shoulders, reached for the Rebel boy's long thin hands and placed both of them on his hugely rampant cock. Prescott began to stroke it between his lithe hands. It throbbed and writhed in his hands, hot and dark and heavy and wet, the long foreskin sliding all the way over the huge dark head and back again. Sean moaned and slid himself forward, thrusting strongly between the stroking palms. Preston began to be enthralled by the feeling of power sweeping through him each time Sean moaned or gasped or thrust uncontrollably. He began to toy with Sean, building up the sexual tension, then backing off, slowing down. Though he was on top, Sean was momentarily under Prest's control, nearly helpless.

The young rebel boy was overwhelmed by the power he had to control Sean's every reaction, his total response. He was learning how to elicit just the right moan or gasp, make Sean's cock throb or leak or grow. Suddenly he paused in his actions. He had come to the realization that he was enjoying, having fun, and being sexually excited by touching another man's cock, a huge dark and wrinkled cock, smelling richly of foetid male sex. For a moment he could not believe his actions.

Sean took immediate advantage of the lull to reestablish his control of the situation. He slid down, popping his cock from between the pumping hands and lowered his head to take Preston's rock hard manhood between his lips. Licking the swollen pink head inside his mouth. Preston cried out as if in pain but surrendered immediately to Sean's ministrations, lying back to allow Sean to consume him. 

 Sean knew nothing of man to man sex, but imitated the actions of a whore who had once blown him. He resolved if he were to do this thing, he would do the best he could, be the best cocksucker to the boy he was growing to love so much. He kept his tongue flicking and licking as he moved his mouth around on Preston. Took the hard lean shaft deep in his throat and swallowed over and over, massaging the tight pink head with his throat. Over and over he ran his lips wetly up and down the distended purple vein on the cock's underside, pausing at the top to tease the tiny cock lips with his flicking tongue, and at the bottom to suck one of Prest's tight balls into his mouth.

Sean paused only briefly to swing his body around so his erect shaft poked directly in Preston's face, then took the young lad's cock deep in his throat once again.

Preston could hardly ignore the huge cock that pressed against his face, his nose his mouth, poking him here and there as Sean moved over him. He took Sean's cock in both hands and fed the plum-sized head into his own mouth. Deep in a dark corner of his subconscious somewhere, he was still doubtful about this man to man sex thing, but an overpowering hunger of another sort, brought on by the strong odor and taste of hot penis filling his senses could not be denied. He bowed out his cheeks as best he could and tried to keep from choking on Sean's huge manhood. He ran his tongue around and around the huge bulb in his mouth, trying to imitate what Sean was doing to him, but the shaft was just too large. The fragrant oozing from Sean's cock blended with copious amounts of his own saliva, flowed out from his distended cheeks, wetting his face and neck and shoulders.

Sean, overcoming the intense desire to fuck down sharply into Preston's throat, began to suck sharply on Prest's cock as he bobbed his head rapidly up and down, pushing the boy's foreskin back with his lips at the beginning of the stroke and swallowing the swollen head at the other end. His own saliva and Preston's cock juices flowed freely from his cheeks down over the lad's cock and balls and puddled between Prest's ass cheeks. Sean's index finger followed the stream and began to flick back and forth across the tender opening. Prescot responded by moaning and thrusting his hips up and down. Sean took advantage of the down stroke to force his middle finger deeply inside. The third time his finger struck deep, Preston began cumming into his mouth and throat. It seemed the thick jism would not cease to spurt and spurt as Prest cried out over and over. Sean took it all in, sucking hard and closing his throat around the plunging cock and finally forcing his face hard against Prest to cease his motions, grasping the slim satiny cock hard with his throat and swallowing over and over till the young lad was totally spent, begging him to stop. 

Sean reversed positions and drew the rebel boy up into his arms, lay quietly stroking the sleek body and kissing Prest's face and neck. "You are so wonderful, so beautiful, Preston Dalton, I wish it was light in here so I could see you. Your body is so so fine. I love the slim length of your cock, your sweet unwrinkled balls, your firm lovely ass, all of you, just all of you!"

However, a large hot living presence still throbbed between them would not, could not, be denied. 

"Yeh but Sean?"

"Yes Prest, what is it?"

"Aint there sumthin' Ah shud do bout yer body," he said, reaching between them and grasping Sean's hard throbbing cock, "specially this part?" Preston could feel the broad smile on Sean's face, even though he could see nothing in the absolute darkness of the hay loft.

"I can think of a couple of things at least," Sean replied.

"Well this time, you jest leave everthin' ta me. Ah think Ah can figure out sumthin'." Prest slid from Sean's arms and rolled over to kneel between the older boy's hairy legs, guiding himself by feeling with his hands. He began massaging Sean's cock with both hands, up with one and down with the other, supplying lubrication by licking the swollen head like an ice cream cone. He was thankful for the darkness this first time, the picture his mind made of his actions was wild enough without his actually seeing the giant penis before him. He was amazed to feel his own penis rising once more, flabergasted by his reaction to the taste and smell of cock. He began to lick and suck at Sean in earnest, popping the fat head in and out of his mouth, his hands working furiously. Suddenly a new idea came to him and he slowed his actions way down. He began to explore with his hands, lips and tongue. He had never before held a cock in his hands before, certainly never in his mouth. He touched Sean's pouting cock lips with the tip of his tongue, flicking and probing, enjoying the taste of the clear fluid which oozed from them. He held back the foreskin and pushed it forward and back, curling and uncurling it's long wrinkles. He began to giggle as he tried new things. He put his tongue on Sean's fat head, then moved the long foreskin with his hand covering his tongue and swirling it around under there. He pushed the foreskin down as tight as he could, pleased that it made sean's cck seem even harder. He ran his fingertips up and down the fat throbbing vein on the underside, then followed with his tongue. Then he pursed his lips as if kissing, and ran them up and down the fat pulsing vein all the way deep in Sean's balls up to the very tip again. He sniffed at Sean's scrotum, under his balls where the smell was strong and sharp, the taste a blend of pre-cum, sweat, and some other essence Preston had smelt tonight for the first time. He wondered if this was The Sean Smell, unique to this person, his person, or if it was the same with every man.

Sean was thrashing around beneath him, thrusting his hips up and moaning. Clear slippery fluid was pouring out of Sean's huge dick. Preston repositioned himself between Sean's legs, leaned heavily upon him and began to suck the huge cock in earnest, working his hands with a fury and taking as much of Sean into his mouth and throat as he could, which was only about half. He had a goal now. He wanted to taste Sean's essence, his man stuff, to take it into himself. 

Sean began fucking up, driving his cock deeper. Sean gagged and choked and pulled his mouth away, but began again immediately. Slowly, in the course of about one half hour, he learned how to relax his throat and breathe through his nose so he could take more and more. His face, his eyes, even his ears were wet with their combined juices.

Sean cried out loudly, "now!" twining his fingers in Prest's long red waves and thrusting up hard. Preston did his best to take it all, gagging and chiking and feeling as if he were about to throw up, as Sean began to cum into his throat. Long thick tendrils of cum ran down his throat and squirted out from his cheeks and ran from his nose, but he held on, swallowing over and over, fighting the gag reflex. 

The gagging and swallowing actions of Prest's throat only increased Sean's pleasure and caused him to cum more and more. Finally Sean realized how roughly was treating the young first timer and released his head. To show his new lover the depth of his commitment, Preston remained as he was for a short time, then withdrew a bit and licked Sean's hugeness all around, causing him to thrust and moan several more times before he crawled up and lay in his arms once again. 

"Prest?"

"Yes Sean?"

Sean rolled partailly over, took Preston's face in his hands and kissed him strongly on the lips. "I swear to you Prest, that was the first time in my life I ever kissed a man. Boy did that seem strange!"

"Yeh but Ah do love the taste of my penis on yer lips," Prest replied, giggling.

"You really are something, you know that?"

"Yeh, yer sumthin' else too man!"

The exertion of the sex after a hard day's chores, the completeness of their union, finally took its toll as the two youngsters drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

The next day the boys took the old brown mule , some axes and adzes out to Mrs. Reagan's south field, busying themselves with the removal a large old stump. As they worked, neither spoke of the events of the previous night. So far it was as if the boys were to have two separate lives; their day life of endless work on the beaten old farm, and their night life of secret sweetness, tenderness and passion for one another.

However, as the day wore on and Sean, dripping with sweat from his labors in the warm sun, shed his coarse cotton shirt, Preston paused for a moment to gaze fondly at his lover's well-muscled body. Seans arms were strong and stout as young saplings, his firm chest bristled with coarse curly black hair which ran down in a vee to disappear beneath his waistband. Preston began to blush when his gaze dropped to the obvious tube in Sean's trousers, swaying to and fro as Sean labored, remembering the night before. His bright red face glowed in the warm sunlight and the fiery flumes of his long red hair tossed and tussled in the soft afternoon breeze. Often as the day wore on, the young southern lad would shake his head in dismay; he could not yet quite believe he had done such things and would avidly do them again.

Mrs. Reagan, finished with her kitchen chores, was out a the hen house gathering eggs when the idea atruck her to see if the boys quilts needed washing. Securing the egg basket from the old egg sucking hound, she made her way into the barn and climbed the ladder to the loft. Even in the dim light of the barn it was easy to see that the boys had pulled their bedding into a single bed. She smiled thinking they must be so much succor to one another in their lonely struggle against the awful rages of the war. A strange smell seemed to linger in the air of the loft. As she moved to gather the boys' laundry the smell became rich and full. Memories flooded back of the sharp male sex smell her husband used to leave on her body when she had completed her wifely duties, and for a moment she longed for his tender caresses. But finally the truth struck home to her senses. She had heard of such things, indeed, even the bible spoke of men lying with men, but she was taken aback by the thought of her two young anti war crusaders engaging in such practices. Shades of Sodom and Gomorrah. She reminded herself that it was not her place to judge. Her "Friends" beliefs had taught her that each person must find his or her own way to the Lord, through quiet and peace. So what the boys did was between them and their God. But, by God, she didn't think she could countenance such goings on in her own home, her own farm. She returned to her kitchen and sat beside the fire, rocking and thinking of how she must proceed, what she must do.

***

Eventually the heat of the afternoon touched Preston and he also stripped off his shirt. Sean, in his turn, paused to savor the form of his lover. His loins stirred as his eyes swallowed Preston. Though strong and muscular, the rebel lad had no definable lumps or bulges. His skin was white and smooth as alabaster. He resembled nothing so much as an ancient Greek Olympic athlete immortalized in marble or etched on an urn. Sean shook his head to clear it, pressed down firmly on the front of his trousers to relieve the pressure, and went back to urging the old mule to pull harder at the ropes that bound it to the huge stump.

By day's end the boys had prized the stubborn stump from its many-fingered grasp on the earth and dragged it back to the farm site for burning. The lines of their bodies and faces were etched with black dirt and their hair full of debris. They were bone tired, hungry beyond belief, and ached in every muscle. 




Brothers in Arms Ch. 02



"Wash thyselves for supper," Mrs. Reagan shouted from the kitchen,. "Then I'll make a hot bath for each of thee if thou will carry the water."

After supper the water was prepared and carried from the kitchen fire to the tub on the back porch. Preston went first, stripping off his filthy sweaty clothes and sliding into the scoop shaped tub. His sore muscles began to ease almost immediately. Though the boys carried the wter to the stove, Mrs. Reagan would not allow Sean to add more hot water once Preston was actually in the tub, but insisted on performing this chore herself. Preston was nervous and blushed furiously when he saw it was Mrs. Reagan who was pouring more hot water into the tub. He furiously tried to cover his genitals with his hands, but the Quaker woman merely laughed. "I've raised four boys to thy size and thee hath nothing I have not seen before, though I will admit thou are a pretty one." After about half an hour Mrs. Reagan appeared once again on the porch with two large towels which she handed to Preston wordlessly, and a clean pair of trousers and shirt, which she hung over the porch rail.

Preston and Sean dumped the tub together before filling it once again with hot water. Now it was Sean's turn to luxuriate in the hot tub. While he he lay back with his eyes closed his great cock floated in the suds. Suddenly he felt the onrush of new hot wate and opened his eyes. Mrs. Reagan stood over him, pouring the water and looking directly at him, at his cock. Though the sedate middle aged woman struggled to keep her face neutral, it was obvious that she was awed and perhaps a bit frightened by its considerable size. Sean was sure that the woman was blushing. Mrs. Reagan said nothing, but quickly moved back into the house. Later, she opened the door slightly and lay towels and clothes on the porch without looking in Sean''s direction.

Once both boys were bathed and dressed, she called them to the fireside and bade them sit. "I have something to say to both of thee and I ask that ye not interrupt me until I have had my say. Will thee both listen to me?" The boys merely nodded as she continued, "I have become aware that the two of thee have been lying together." She paused for a long moment. "In such a way as the holy bible prohibits."

Both boys sat with their mouths agape, began to stammer.

"Hold thy tongues as thee promised! Thy sins," she went on, are not for me to judge and your salvation or damnation is thine own to seek. It is a matter between thy Maker and thyselves. However, I cannot, in my own heart, allow such goings on to continue in my house, or uh, barn so to speak." She held up a hand to silence any outpouring from the boys. So I will be asking thee to leave in the morning. I will not throw thee out abandoned and destitute but will provide for thee a few necessities and a small sum to set thee upon thy way. But tonight, thee Sean, must stay in the loft above and thee, Preston will stay in the barn. Do I have thy word that you will sleep apart on this night?"

The two lads were so taken aback by her words as to be speechless. Both sat with their heads hung as though they had done something they were ashamed of, though neither felt precisely that emotion. Preston, in particular was heartsore to loose the gracious charity of this fine woman and sick at the thought of having to find their way once more in a world at war where either of them might be seized and executed any moment.

Sean worried also, worried that this latest trial would force them apart. He feared the reaction of the world to their love. His mind whirled at the deception and lies they would have to live "out there". "Mrs. Reagan," he said. Would you allow us to talk qietly together for a few moments before we retire? You have given us much to ponder."

"I will allow it if thee stay on the porch. I shall not interfere. I beg thee, do not act rashly. It is my wish and my want that thee should go in the peace and friendship I have always provided thee.

Out on the porch the boys were at a loss what to discuss. Where would they go now, what would they do? And what about tonight? Were they willing to set aside there new found love for the night. And if they didn't agree, what could she do? Sean spoke up. "Well she said she would help us in food and other ways. After all we've been through, I don't want to be back where we started, with nothing! I just want to be sure you know whatever we decide, whatever you decide, I don't want to be parted from you, I want to stay with you. If we can't have things exactly the way they've started to be, I'll take whatever comes as long as we can be together and I hope beyond hope that you feel the same!"

"Well, Sean, Ah, er Ah am so confused and shaken up Ah don't know what Ah'm gonna do. Ah'm so skeered of what will happen to us 'out there'. Will we be aright ya think?"

"I am so glad you said 'we'. That's what I fear the most,that your fear and religion and the opinion of others will drive you away from me. Look, from what you told me, you were only minutes from dying out there on that battlefield. Me too!. If I hadn't had the courage to do what others thought was wrong, I would never have met you. Now you are te most important thing in my life. If I had done what was 'moral', I would have killed you out there or left you to die. I don't see that we have any choice but to go out there and live, be what we can, do what we can, and take whatever comes. I only promise that while I live, you have me by your side and at your back. What have we got to lose?"

"Yeh, Ah gess yer right, but I am really skeered." 

Sean put one arm around his lover's shoulders and told him everything was going to be all right. Mrs. Reagan, impatient that 'goings on' might start happening right there on her back porch, called out to the boys, "thee get thyselves in here now boys, that's long enough. Time for thee to be getting to bed. Thee will be rising early and getting thyselves along the road!"

The boys split without so much as a comforting hug between them. Sean went to the loft above Mrs. Reagan's bedroom and Sean to his loft in the barn. Mrs. Reagan washed up at the sink and went to her own bedroom, undressing and slipping on her long one-piece cotton nightshirt.

Mary, for that was Mrs. Regan's Christian name, slept fitfully that night. Perhaps she had some semblance of guilt over her eviction of the two young lads, but perhaps something else troubled her. Dreams came to her in the night, persistent, returning dreams, dreams of snakes, snakes that crawled on her body. But instead of being frightened or repulsed by the snakes, she became hot and moist as oneparticularly large snake coiled and curled and sidled sinuously between her thighs, its forked tongue flicking and flicking at her 'private' places, its flicking tail teasing her soft plump thighs.

 The dream shifted and the figure between her legs was a man. The man had Sean's face, but not his face, an older, more mature version. And his penis, longer, thicker even than Sean's began plunging roughly into her. The dream went on and on, the thrustings more and more persistent, faster and faster. Suddenly she awoke. her face and chest and breasts in a heat. Her thighs wet with her own oozing. For a moment her body wished that the dream had continued a bit longer, but she shook her head to clear the strong image, went to her nightstand for her bible and spent the hours until daylight in her rocker, reading from her bible and praying. Many of her prayers were for her husband's swift return.

Sean's sleep was also troubled with dreams, wild inchoate dreams. In one, three large bearded men had grabbed Preston, stripped off his clothes and were forcing him face down over a rough log. Their intent was obvious. As the dream wore on, Sean felt helpless, until, just out of his sight, he heard Prest scream out in pain. Suddenly he was plunging into the midst of the three men, hacking at them, fighting them as if he were a knight with shining sword. But the sword with which he was brutally hacking at them, slicing at them, was his own enlarged penis. In place of the blood spurting from their wounds, Sean's sword was spurting thick white gobs of his own manly juices. He awoke suddenly to discover that he had actually spent himself into his night shirt. 

Other dreams would trouble him the remainder of that night, but his rescue of Prest with his 'sword' would be the dream he would remember, not only in the morning, but thereafter.

Up in the hayloft, Preston, too, dreamt. He dreamt he and Sean were lying together in their own bed in their own house, in a quiet wood buy a gurgling stream. They lie together kissing one another as would a man and woman. Touching, fondling. And always the image of Sean's huge penis. During part of the dream, Sean's penis had become so huge that Preston was hugging it with both arms, kissing it as if it had a face. His own Cock was rock hard, in the dream, and in reality. Preston's dream was altogether pleasant. Near the end, frolicking in Sean's arms, he had rolled over, gotten up on his hands and knees and Sean had lain his hard heavy cock on his lower back, on top of his buttocks. He woke with a start, suddenly wide awake, an image that had been slowly forming in his waking mind for several days had now manifested itself in a dream. Preston spent the next several hours thinking about the possibility the dream might develop into reality, but could not quite get his head around the physical reality of the imagined act, given the truly great size of Sean's penis. Finally he let go of dreaming, thinking. "What will be," he thought, "will be," finally falling into deep slumber.



Brothers in Arms Ch. 03



In the morning, Mrs. Reagan was up with the chickens, rousing the boys and preparing to send them on their way. By eight A.M. they were packed and ready to go. In addition to the two quilted bedrolls she had made for them she provided bacon, coffee and a coffee pot, a frying pan and pot, flour and sugar and some salt pork; all rolled and packed tightly in packs that were easy to carry if somewhat heavy. She sent them off also with a $20 double eagle each and a small caliber rifle and cartridges which had belonged to one of her sons.

Sean spoke first. "Despite the fact that you are making us leave, ma'am, we will always be grateful for what you have done for us. We probably would not have survived if it hadn't been for you!"

"Yah," repeated Preston, "Ah cain't believe you are bein' so gracious and all, even givin' us money and a gun. Ya know Ma'am, you oughtn't to be givin' folks guns and letin' 'em know you got gold. Somat is gonna kill ya for the gold. Anyways we thank ya kindly for everthin' Ah don' know what Ah'd a done."

"Though I can't condone thy behavior, in some ways I know in my heart that thee are honest and good boys. As for the money, thee worked hard for me and thou deserve fair compensation for thy labor. The rest, well, I couldn't in all righteousness just cast thee out with nothing. But neither could I abide thy deeds. The Lord must know that I neither condone nor tolerate that sort of behavior on my property. God bless thee in your travels boys and keep thee safe and may thee find thy way to God's light. Now be off with thee!"

Preston asked if please ma'am they could have a note that she had given them the money and goods, especially the rifle, in case they were questioned along the way. She went inside and wrote and signed a note, returned and handed it to Sean.

When Sean stepped forward to hug her, she stiffened, but returned the hug. Images of Sean's large manhood and the snake dreams flashed through her consciousness and she pushed him away, turned and fled into the house, her body flushed with unwonted desire.

The boys traveled all day, heading steadily westward, with hardly a word exchanged between them. They routinely avoided all contact with others, though they both knew that such contact was inevitable. That night, sitting around their campfire, the boys discussed their future, trying to make plans, to sort out all that had happened to them and between them. They sat close together, thighs and knees touching, hands often touching a knee, a shoulder. The awkwardness of physical touching was almost entirely gone from their relationship now and every day brought them closer, physically, romantically, and spiritually. There was no longer any doubt that they would be together, stay together, or die.

"You know," Sean said. "We are going to have to be very careful how we behave around other people. We are going to have to be cautious how we talk to one another and not touch each other and stuff like that when others are around."

"Whad'ya mean?"

"Think about it. If that nice old lady was so turned off by what we do, who we are, what we are to one another, think of how the first asshole we come upon is going to behave. Some will want to kill us."

"Kill us? Fer what?"

"Like I said. For who we are, what we are.. Think about how you felt about 'queer boys' before us. I mean me too sort of. That is to say I don't think I wanted to kill anyone but I was very revolted about the idea of people doing the things I do with you. Not only that, but what we do together is against the law in most places!"

"Agin the law? How could what we do, what we wanna do, be anybody's business? Shit, Ah tole you I din't want none a this shit."

"I didn't ask for it either. How was I to know I was going to fall for some red-headed hillbilly?" Just please be careful if we run into anyone. We might even have to separate our bedrolls every night after we, well, you know, before we go to sleep. If someone sees our fire smoke and ambles in and finds us sleeping together, they could cause us a lot of trouble. One thing I know for sure is we have got to get further west and North as fast as we can. The bigger the city the better. I hear San Francisco is a pretty wild and wide open place."

"Yeah, that wud be great if it was about 2000 miles closer. Ah'd feel a lot better if Ah had a horse and a real gun. Maybe we could find work, get a job someres?"

"How are we going to do that? Wherever we go they are going to want to know why we aren't fighting for somebody's side in this stupid war. We don't have many choices. I'd say Kansas and Missouri are out. Illinois might be OK if we are careful and go North. Then maybe Iowa. I guess if we go further north and west we might get to where there are almost no people. I think that would be our best bet. I wish I had studied more at school. Maybe I would have more idea just where things are."

"Well Yah know Sean, we been going steady West. We oughter be in Ohia., if not already then dang soon. If we cud find us the Ohia river and find us a boat we cud maybe float and paddle all the way too Illinois. Ah don even know how I kno dat, but Ah know it from sum place. Er, ya know, another choice is we cud hop us the first train goin' North. We might even cud pay. We got us $20 each!"

Sean rose and walked around animatedly as he spoke. "You know, Prest, you aren't half dumb for an old hillbilly boy from Florida. We need something else, too, we need a cover story. Who are we, where are we going, why do we look and talk so different from each other. And most of all, why aren't we fighting in the war." he stopped his roving and stood behind Preston, reached out and touched his cheek with the flat of his palm. Preston responded immediately nuzzling his cheek into Sean's hand and sighing. The young boy's shining face glowed amber and gold and scarlet in the campfire light, so beautiful that Sean's heart jumped. He took Preston's face in both his hands and kissed him fully on the lips. Up to now the boys had not kissed much. Somehow, to Sean, kissing another man seemed so much more unusual, so much odder, than the far more intimate things they had done for and to each other. But now they kissed as only lovers can. It was as if they had a need to consume one another as the kiss went on and on. Their tongues, their lips, their teeth licked, nibbled, explored; left them panting and breathless.

Sean paused to throw several handsfull of fuel and kindling on the fire, then took Preston by the hand and led them to the spot where he had previously laid out their bed rolls together. He lay down, not releasing his hold on Preston and drew him down atop himself. His hands flew to rid Prest's body of the clothes which hindered him. He rolled and knelt over his lover as he quickly discarded his own clothing. As it always was and always would be, the enormous heft of Sean's cock stretching out from his hairy loins was a ferocious presence between them. Sean continued to kneel over the boy running his hands over every inch, savoring the silky hairless feel of Preston's white flesh, now glowing like embers. Most of their previous loving having been in near or total darkness, Sean savored the sight of his beloved, bent to kiss and tongue and nibble each spot that flashed and flickered in the dancing firelight.

Preston moaned and moved under Sean's exploring touch, his eyes never leaving the towering flesh which bobbed above him. "Sean," he said softly, "Ah want, Ah want. Ah don't know how to say it."

Sean shut him up by covering his lips with his own. When Sean's head descended to kiss, lick and nipple at Preston's dark red nipples, the latter's slick slender silken penis bobbed and throbbed against the back of Sean's thighs. On a sudden impulse, Sean squirmed and maneuvered until the wet pink head of the younger boy's slender shaft, just peeking out from beneath its sleek foreskin, came in contact with the center of his dark puckered hole; squirmed and pushed until he had impaled himself on Preston's now rock hard slender cock. Both boys gasped loudly. Sean could not believe the harsh sudden shock of pain that roared through his insides. He had not known that this type of penetration would be so painful. He paused to collect his emotions, to give his tortured anus a few moments to adjust to this new feeling.

Preston, on the other hand, who had never penetrated anyone before except Sean's mouth was suddenly overcome by the sudden onrush of raw naked lust. He thrust upward and back, deep into Sean's ass, the thrill of penetration, the tight grasp of Sean's resistant anus on his hard cock, overwhelmingly erotic. He quickly drew back and slammed home again. Sean was finally able to control his screams of pain enough to whisper clearly in his lover's ear, " Easy, oh, please, easy!"

Preston stopped suddenly. "Oh god! Oh God! Did I hurt you?"

"D. . . D. . . Don't st. . . stop n. . . now I want you, I want . . . it. Just for a minute 'til I catch my breath. Just please go slow! Easy, kiss me!"

Preston took Sean's face in both hands and drew it down to smother it with kisses, his eyes his cheeks, his lips his neck, slow, long loving tender kisses, kisses Preston had never before shared with anyone, had dreamed only in his most wild and secret dreams he would ever share with a man.

Sean's massive hardness poked and probed between their bodies, a living force to be reckoned with. Even pain had not diminished its size or force, and, as Sean now began to raise and lower himself slowly on and off Prest's solid shaft, Preston took it in both his hands and began stroking it in time to Sean's exploratory thrusts.

Sean began to push himself on and off Preston's cock in long slow movements. He took the long thin rod deep inside himself before sliding down once again. He could feel his sphincter loosen to allow deeper faster entry. The pain began to diminished now and Sean began to appreciate the wonder of having part of his lover's body actually inside his own. He had never felt so wanted, so possessed. Preston's cock began to strike something deep in Sean. Each thrust lessened the pain and ignited a hot flame of lust. He quickened his movements, bent to kiss and nibble his lovers face and neck as he thrust himself ever harder, ever deeper, racing toward some unknown goal he had never felt before, never dreamed existed.

Preston, feeling Sean's motions quickening, hearing his increased moans and grunts, seeing his face and neck and chest grow red with growing passion, took this as a sign to increase his own movements, planted his feet firmly, and began to thrust up and back with all the power in his strong young legs and hips. The firelight flickered and danced on their hard wet bodies as their movements became wild and uncontrolled and they writhed and growled and thrust at one another in a primeval dance older than mankind. 

Sean began to cry, "Oh! Oh! Oh!" each time Preston's cock struck deep. Prest knew that he was close to climax and went with him, letting loose a blast inside Sean that caused both boys to cry out even more loudly. Finally Sean collapsed atop him, sighing and panting and nearly crying as the waves of release ran through him. Hot spurts of thick white cum shot from Sean's fat gushing cock,flooding both boys' chests and necks. Preston wondered for a moment how Sean's orgasm had occurred for neither boy was stroking Sean's penis, then filed the thought away for future consideration as he clasped his lover tightly against him and kept the upward pressure on, trying to keep his wilting penis inside Sean as long as he could. Once again, he was struck with wonder and awe at the pleasure he was discovering in Sean's arms.

Sean awakened as a shadow fell across his sun streaked form. A stranger stood over him, looking down at him. The stranger held a pistol easily in his fist,pointed down at the middle of Sean's chest. 

"Mornin'," the stranger drawled. "I want you to get up nice and slow."

"Can I get my pants," Sean inquired?

"I don't think you'll be needin' yer pants. Jest git up nice and slow." Holding the weapon on Sean, the young man began going through their belongings, he found the gold pieces almost immediately and stuffed them in the pocket of his filthy slacks. The robber stopped with a strange look on his face. Sean stood there naked. The robber gawked at Sean's massive cock and shook his head as if he had not seen what he thought he had seen. Sean tried to tell his eyes not to search for Preston.

"That there is one big piece a meat you got there! Too bad I am about to deprive a whole lot of young women the pleasure of havin' it in them!" He cackled as if this were the funniest thing he had ever heard.

They had camped for the night a few hundred yards from a deep spot in a local creek. Preston had gotten up early and gone to the river to wash up, get water for coffee, and scout for small game. He had taken the small rifle with him in hopes of spotting a rabbit, squirrel, coon or the like. Now he was headed back toward the campsite with a rabbit by the ears, the water skin over one shoulder, and the rifle held loosely in the other hand, happy to tell Sean he had secured breakfast. Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. That was a laugh. And not Sean's laugh. It sounded cruel and evil. He placed the rabbit and the water jug softly on the ground and circled to his right, keeping a copse of trees between himself and the camp, but drawing steadily closer in a spiral.

"It's a pity really that I have to kill you," the stranger said. " But it ain't that far to Louisville and you'd surely go there and tell someone, then I'd have a sheriff and maybe a posse after me. If I kill you, the wolves and critters will eat all or most of you and no one will ever know I was here. Say. Wait a minute," the stranger said. There was someone else here. I jest noticed there was two bedrolls. Where is he? Or is it she? That would be nice. A woman to have before I kilt ya both. I ain't had a woman in quite a spell. Well? Where is she or he?"

"Uh she left at dawn," Sean tried to lie.

"Alone, out here in the middle of nowhere? A woman? Alone? That's all right, I reckon I can find her maself. She's probly down by the creek. You know a good prayer," the stranger asked, pointing the pistol at Sean's head? You'd better say it now!" 

Suddenly the stranger's face formed a complete O of surprise, eyes wide and mouth open wide. A tiny red spot appeared exactly one inch above the bridge of the stranger's nose only a short moment before the sound of a shot was heard. He gurgled for a few seconds and blood began to run down his face. He twirled on one foot like a weird ballet dancer, then fell at Sean's feet, obviously dead.

Preston stepped out from behind a tree, still holding the small rifle at the ready. "Are you Okay," he asked Sean? Unable to speak, Sean merely nodded his head.

"You. . . you. . . you k k killed him! You fucking killed him! Just like that!"

"Yep, shot his ass right between the eyes!"

"But. . . but. . . but. . ."

"But what? He was gonna kill you so Ah shot him."

"Just like that?"

"Yep! Jes like that!"

"Well what are we gonna do now?"

"We-el, the first thing Ah'm gonna do is take that fancy pistol and gun belt and put it on maself. Then Ah am gonna search him and find out if he's got, er AH shud say had, any money besides ours. Then Ah am gonna go looking to see if'n he's got a horse stashed sumplace round here.. Then Ah am gonna bury him and be on my way. Ah baleve Ah heerd him say that Louaville was not too far away. That would be North. Sounds like a good start. If'n we can slip across the river thar, we gonna be in Indiana, Then cross country or down river to Ellinoise."

The boys conducted a search of the highwayman's pockets and knapsack and came up with a bit of food; ammunition for the pistol, a good solid Colt with nothing fancy for anyone to recognize; seventeen dollars and some change over and above their forty dollars; and a very fine hunting knife with sheath. Preston remained convinced that the robber had a horse stashed somewhere nearby, but the boys never found it. Instead of burying the stranger, they shoved him out into the deepest part of the river in the hope that if he floated far enough downstream, no one would know where he met his end.

As they made their way North, Sean kept repeating from time to time, "Gosh Prest, you shot him dead, right between the eyes. I can't believe you really shot him. Just like that. Pow! I still can't believe it!" They pushed themselves hard that day, trying to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the 'scene of the crime'. They were dog tired and bone weary by the time they decided to stop for the night. They had seen a pallor of smoke hanging over the sky in the distance and assumed that was Louisville. They got to talking and figured out that each of them must have been involved in what would come to be called 'The battle of Perryville', and had been in Kentucky all along, not Ohio as they had originally thought. This was good news because Kentucky was not part of the confederacy and therefore safe for Preston at least.

As they walked, they also worked on their story and decided they would tell everyone they were cousins, one from the north and one from the south who had inherited a small legacy from a common uncle and decided to go west to try to make their fortune together. Along the way, Preston stopped a few times to practice drawing and firing the pistol and soon became quite good at quick drawing and hitting the target.

They had jerky and hard tack and coffee for dinner, to avoid the hassle of cooking, and sat for a while talking before the small fire. Finally Prest's tone of voice underwent a subtle change as he spoke to his lover. "Sean?"

"What Prest?"

"Well you know what you did last night?"

Sean grinned lightly and said, "yeah, I think I know what you mean."

"Well, Ah. That is Ah. I mean. . . I want to try that too. Ah want to take you, uh. . . you know, uh. . . inside. It's all Ah been thinkin' bout all day. But Ah got one big problem with that if you know what I mean."

"What do you mean Prest?" Even in the dim light, Sean could see that Preston was blushing a bright crimson.

"Well, its . . .ah. . . ah. . . Well Ah might as well come right out and say it. Ah don know if that giant thing of yours is too big.

Sean laughed lightly. "Well, buddy, we will just have to go slow, a bit at a time and see what happens. I promise to quit whenever you say so, okay. I have to admit I would much rather do it to you than have you do it to me; I don't know why, it just seems more right. But Preston, good friend, buddy, lover, the last thing I would want to do is really hurt you so if it comes to that we'll just skip it." As he said this, he drew the young Rebel boy close to him, holding him in his arms and whispering, "It'll be okay. Everything will be okay. Especially now that I know we have a trained killer to protect us. Cumon, gunslinger. Let's go to bed."

At first they just snuggled under their bed roll. After Sean undressed them both, they went on touching softly, kissing gently, moving their hands and lips and tongues in a continuing exploration of one another for a long time. Finally, Sean moved them so they were lying side by side and head to toe. He began, very slowly at first to make love to Preston's cock. Oh so slowly he kissed and licked and nibbled. He stroked and caressed and kneaded. He worked the youngster's foreskin up and back, licked under it with his tongue, swirled around the smooth pink head, flicked at the tiny cock lips, sucked on the pulsing vein on the underside. He took each of Prest's balls into his mouth and sucked on them. He kissed and nibbled at the space between his balls and his crack, feeling the blood pounding there.




Brothers in Arms Ch. 03



All the while, as Sean moved his face and hands around Preston's sweet young body, his thick heavy cock roved around Preston's face and neck, pulsing, thumping him now and then. Preston had made an initial effort to reciprocate, but Sean had dissuaded him, allowing only casual and incidental contact. Sean made it clear to his young lover that, this night, he was to receive all the love and attention Sean could pour over him. 

Sean continued his sensual and sensuous attentions to Preston's cock and balls. As he stroked and sucked and licked, Prest's pale white penis became more and more rigid, pinker and pinker. More and more slippery juices leaked from the younger boy's cock head and combined with Sean's saliva, sparkling crimson and golden in the firelight as it ran down the cute, tight crack of Prest's pale white ass.

Still sucking and licking and nibbling on Prest's cock, Sean began now to tickle at the slippery tight pucker of the boy's anus. The young boy's first reaction was to tighten his ass even further and pull away, but Sean hooked his arms around Preston's thighs and flickered his middle finger quickly around the resisting hole. He drooled and dribbled more spittle onto Prest's ass, then slid his middle finger quickly beyond the tight ring. Preston cried out and tried to pull away, but Sean instructed, "push back, push out!" Sean's finger was inserted only to the first knuckle, but he turned and twisted and flicked it over and over, until he felt the resistance fading somewhat, the sphincter loosening a bit, then added the tip of his index finger. Preston cried out once more, but this time pushed his ass back against Sean's fingers, causing them to sink deeper. 

Sean took Preston's slim cock deep in his throat as he slipped his two fingers ever deeper. Though he knew little about the inside anatomy of the male body and was ignorant of the prostate's existence, Sean knew that on one earlier occasion, Preston's cock had struck some spot deep in his ass that had caused explosions to thunder through him, so he began to search and explore, to attempt to locate that spot if it existed inside Preston. He flicked and turned and reached his fingers as deeply as he could, but did not seem to get the desired effect. It seemed that only Sean's long heavy cock would be able to reach deep enough. But first, it seemed, Sean was going to have to loosen up, widen up, Preston's cute tight little brown ass to allow easier access for his long thick cock.

Sean stopped his actions for a moment, took Preston by his shapely white hips and turned him over on his belly. Hooking one arm under the tight slim waist and pressing his own knees against the back of Prest's knees, he brought the young lad into a kneeling position, then, still holding him by the waist, he maneuvered his body to position his dark bulging cock head on the tiny nest of pale red, almost pink hair at the base of Prest's spine, which descended from there to join the darker red hair that circled the tight red pucker of his hole. He leaned to kiss and caress the back of his lover's neck and shoulders, to nibble softly at his ears, to whisper: "I want you, Prest. I need you, need to be inside you!"

"I want that too," Preston answered. "Do it! Take me! I want you so bad."

Sean used his thumbs to gently spread the firm white globes of Preston's ass, exposing the tight brown ring. Carefully and slowly he placed the huge purple plum of hs cock head against that puckered opening and pressed forward, but could not gain entry. His cock head was dripping slippery fluid at this point so he ran his cock round and round the hole, moistening it. He spit on his thumb and used that to further lubricate the spot, then pushed again, harder, but still could not press n against the resistance of Preston's tight anal ring. Leaning over once more, he whispered in his lover's ear. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he grasped Preston's hips with both hands and thrust his hips forward with one mighty shove. His huge cock head popped past Prest's reluctant opening, and into his rectum.

The young rebel lad cried out loudly, "Oh! Oh my god! Oh God!"

"Are you okay," Sean asked, holding his hips, his body very still.

"Ah. . . Ah. . . Ah'm all right,"Preston told Sean. It. . . It hhhurts like. . . like fire." Sean kept his hips, his cock very still inside Prest's young ass. He ran his hands softly. Slowly, over the smooth white expanse of Preston's back and shoulders, softly caressed his arms, his thighs, the back of his neck, all the time whispering softly. "I'd All right. It's okay. It'll be all right. I know it hurts right now. Try to relax. I am going to give it a minute and then I am going deeper, okay?"

"Ah. . . Ah'll try. It hurts a lot,Sean. Ah don know if I can take it. You are so big."

Without moving his body at all, Sean used his inner muscles to make his cock pulse and throb and squirm as something alive within Preston's tight rectum.

"Ooh! Oh my God! That is so sexy, so hot," Prest cried.

Sean leaned over Preston's back once more and nipped the side of his neck sharply with his teeth. The sharp immediate pain distracted Prest. He turned his head back to look at Sean and yelled, "Ow!" In that very instant, Sean used the distraction to thrust his hips sharply forward and impale Preston with several more fat inches of his cock. He held tightly to Preston's hips so the younger lad could not pull away, thrust again and entered several more inches. The youngster was crying and yelling, struggling to escape the fiery pain blazing deep inside him. Very quickly he realized the more he struggled, the greater the pain. He abandoned his thrashing and knelt there, trying to remain deadly still, gently weeping and trembling all over.

Once again, Sean waited, moving his cock only with his inner muscles, exciting Preston without increasing the pain. Once again he began softly gently stroking his partners body. As he felt Prest relax a little, he reached under him and took hold of the boy's thin cock, hard as ice and jutting up strongly along his belly. Very slowly, keeping the rest of his body still, except for the pulsing, throbbing presence of his cock, he began to slide his closed fist wetly up and back along Prest's beautiful cock, now bright pink with its suffusion of blood, sliding his hand and Prest's foreskin down over the glistening head and back tight against the scrotum. Though only half Sean's large cock was inside Prest, he withdrew about two inches and paused for only a second before ramming hard forward until about six inches of his hard fat cock was embedded, while stroking Prest's rigid cock tightly and quickly about ten times. He released his hold on the rebel boy's cock and grasped his hips once more. He began to pull back on the boy's hips slowly as he pressed his own hips slowly forward, causing his massive cock to enter more and more until at last his balls were tight against the younger boy, his massive cock fully embedded.

Once again he reached beneath them and jacked Prest's cock hard and fast. At the same time e withdrew about four inches and slammed forward again three or four times. Suddenly he stopped everything and just knelt there, waiting.

Sean's long thick heavy cock was like a living presence inside Preston. He had long ago accepted that pain was to be his constant companion on this journey. He knelt there on all fours, feeling as if his entire body was filled with Sean, trembling, weeping. Once more he sent out his appeal to his lover, his friend, his partner. "Oh Sean, please, it hurts so much, please."

"Please what, my friend? Please stop? Please go on, please more? As he said these words Sean was sliding in and out of Preston's ass, wetter now, but still tightly held, moving against all resistance, not slamming, not thrusting, but with a slow, inexorable force that would not be denied. Very slowly almost all the way out , a long long journey that took minutes, then back in again. As he took Preston, for there could be no other definition, he kept up a soft murmur. "It's okay, Prest. It's all right. This is meant to be. You were meant to be mine. It's okay. Relax. I love you. Take me. Take me into you. There you go, relax. Take my cock buddy. Yeah. Take it all in."

Prest was gasping, gulping, panting. Sean slow determined fucking was beginning to strike something else, something different inside him. The pain spread from his ass outward to his chest and the backs of his thighs, to his belly, to his back, his neck. His face and neck felt hot, consumed wth a fire from deep within. Then suddenly the pain was gone and only the fire remained. His arms and legs collapsed and he fell to the ground. He could feel his ass, his body opening, surrendering, letting go, welcoming the vast intrusion it had so long resisted. His acceptance, his release, brought freedom, the freedom of total surrender of will, of reason, to lust and want and need, and yes, to his lover, his friend.

And Sean felt it too. Felt his lover go slack, open to him, surrender to his will, his driving need. And now there was no stopping, no reason, no caution only the burning driving lust of possession, the hunger and thirst for Preston's body that drove and drove him as he pounded down and down and down into the open abyss of his lover's acceptance. And here, too, Sean found release and surrender lost himself, his ego, his person. And as he spent his seed deep inside his friend, so he spent himself, experienced a release so intense that it surpassed person and personality and seemed to blast him into t the oneness of the eternal universe.

Below him, Preston also spent himself, ejaculated heavily, strongly and very wetly into the coarse blanket as he felt Sean's seed fill him, warm and deep within him, washing over him as the primeval sea washes the shore. 

Both boys lay immobile for a long time. Sean's hugeness shrunk to its soft proportion, but stayed inside Preston as they both dozed, spent and exhausted from their long journey into knowledge and acceptance. During the night, unconsciously, Sean withdrew from Preston's ass and the boys slept deeply, their bodies entwined as only the intimate can blend.

*** *** ***

Sean awakened abruptly! Prest was shaking him and had his hand over is mouth. "Wake up, Sean, wake up, please wake up. Someone's coming, lots of someone's. Soldiers, and. . . and. . . cavalry. Dammit, wake up!

Slowly the words sunk in and woke him fully. The boys scrambled to collect their meager belongings. The sounds of marching and horses sounded ever nearer. The two lovers fled as fast as they could run, not knowing where they headed, only that their swift feet carried them away, away from the horses, away from the guns, away from the war once again!

end of part 3 



Brothers in Arms Ch. 04



The two young lads ran and ran. They ran as if their very lives depended upon their speed, which it probably did. After a time they stopped, exhausted and peered over a small rise. They watched in awe as hundreds of cavalry sped to the Northeast amid clouds of dust and the pounding of many shod horses. They hid in a wash of a small, mostly dry creek which would its way north toward the river, its banks steep enough to conceal them. Not long after the pounding of hooves ceased, the two boys became aware they were not alone. They heard the distinct rustle and heavy breathing of someone concealed close by in a willow thicket.

Prest drew his gun. He knew he had only one remaining bullet, but brandished the pistol as if his ammo were unlimited. "Come out from thar whoever you are! Ah have a gun so don try nuttin'. After a long minute of delay a tall dark negro about the same age as the boys emerged from the bushes. His clothes were filthy and completely in tatters, barely concealing any of his almost purple skin. 

"Don' shoot me sah! I ain't done nuttin' 'cept hide from them rebel cav'ry. Please sah lemme go. Ah gots to be on mah way. Please sah!" The tall dark African, obviously an escaped slave, kept his eyes toward the ground and continually twisted between his nervous hands a straw hat too full of holes to be properly called a hat and seemingly inadequate to shelter out any elements. 

"Why shud Ah let you go?" Prest asked. You are obviously a slave who has ran away from his proper master. Ah cud prob'ly receive a fair amount of money for returnin' you to da proper 'thorities.

Sean interrupted the Negro's reply, stepping between the two men and addressing Preston. Put the gun away, Prest. Can't you see the poor negro is scared shitless! Besides there is no way you can turn him in without someone asking where you are supposed to be. Sean turned to the black man and held out his hand. "I am Sean, what is your name?"

"Well suh, Ah is happy to meet ya. Ah is called Nathan by mos folks, but now that Ah is gonna be free, Ah is gonna use mah African name what my daddy gived me, 'Mandigo'. He were sold off down south when Ah was onliest five, but Ah 'member what he tol' me bout being proud of mah name." Sean turned his head toward Preston.

"Would you please put the damn gun down! This poor dirty Negro isn't going to hurt either of us. It looks like he can barely stand." Well, Nathan, er Mandigo. What did you eat today?"

"Well suh Ah found me some roots and some grubs and some dandyline greens earlier today. Ah is jes fine suh, thank you all for axing."

"Where are you headed Mandigo?"

"Ah is headed fer Kay-ro, Illinoise, suh. It ain't too fer now. Folks along the way say Ohio be okay, but Illinois is the place fo folks lak me to be free. And I knows where there is a person in Kay-ro what cud hep me git a job an git started on mah whole new free life. You see, suh dis place Kay-ro, I figer dey mus be rat bout mah bein free dere cus Ah were told it be the same name place as the place where da ol' 'gyptian Farohs is from in Africa, dem ol' black kings lak in da bible, onliest, they spell it da same, but in Illinoise they says it Kay-ro, not Ki-ro."

"And where is this Cairo located,Mandigo?"

"Thataway!" Pointing. "Norwes'. Jes a little more North to da Hio river, den west and kinda south, I reckon, cuz dat 'ol river she turns and twists roun' lak an 'ol snake. It be on t'other side, bout fitty more mile Ah guess." 

"I thought we were getting close to Louisville."

"Ah, no suh, beggin yo pardon suh but Louaville dat way, wer dem rebel cav'ry was headed. Ya ax me dey is in a heap a trouble cuz there be Yankees all round dat place, or sos I heerd. Is you a Yankee Sean, suh?"

"Not any more, Mandigo. I don't know what I am any more. Me and Preston here, he was a rebel. I guess we are now just free men like you wish to be. Free from north or south or war."

"You means you is deserters? One from both sides of da war? How dat happen?"

"Well, that Sir, is a very long story. If you would care to have supper with us and spend the night with us, I will tell you the whole thing."

"Well suh. . . 

"Now jes, a daggone minute, " Preston spoke up. We cain't have. . . Ah mean. . . You ain't askin' dis Nig. . . uh. . ta eat wit' us. Ah cain't. . . " 

Sean and Nathan spoke at the same time. Mandigo immediately backed off a step.

"Sorry misstuh. Ah did'n mean to interrup you. Ah was jes gonna say it wudden' be rat me eatin' wit da white folk."

"Kin Ah speak with you a minute, Sean?" Preston asked, grasping Sean's arm and dragging him away a few yards to utter in a harsh whisper. "What da hell ya mean, askin' a Nigger ta eat with us? Sides the fact that it ain't fittin', how you know you can trust him? He'll prob'ly stab us in the night and steal all we have."

"Well if he stabbed your slave owning ass in he night you would probably deserve it and that's why you are so skittish. As for me, I never did anything in my life to hurt a Negro, so why should he hurt me? He is just another poor hungry, man as far as I am concerned and it is only right to ask him to share as we would anyone else, as I did to your Confederate ass that day by the creek. Now I asked him to stay and I am going to ask him again. If you don't like it you can just stay a ways apart. And please, for the rest of the time he's here, try not to say Nigger!"

Prest turned away and went about preparing a campsite for the night, mumbling under his breath, "Damn Yankee, goddam Yankee."

"Sean, what de hell you doin' in mah pack?"

"I know you've got another shirt in here and I am taking it to give to Nathan, er, Mandigo."

"Damn fucking yankee, damnyankee," Preston mumbled.

Sean and the negro disappeared down stream and after a while, Prest moved along behind. When he came within sight of them, Preston sat on the bank some fifty yards away and watched them.

The black and Sean were standing in the shallow river facing one another. Sean stripped off the tattered remains of the Negro's shirt and tossed it aside. The same for Mandigo's trousers, which were so full of holes that they fell apart as Sean stripped them off. Sean had a wash rag and a scrap of soap he began dipping in the river, laving the slave's body, starting with the black wiry hair atop his dark head. The black youngster submitted to Sean's ministrations like a small child, turning this way and that, lifting his arms or spreading his legs. 

From his distant perch, Prest saw Sean turn the negro boy's body and recoil in shock and disgust. Though he couldn't see what what caused Sean's reaction, he thought he knew. Someone somewhere in the south had whipped this slave, probably severely, leaving huge ugly scars. Though Prest's family had always been too poor to afford slaves, Prest had always hoped some day to become wealthy enough to purchase several slaves. Now that was all over. As a deserter from the glorious Army of the Confederacy, he could never show his face down home again. He chuckled to himself as he tried to imagine "down home" folks reaction to him and Sean's way of life. Breaking out of his reverie, Prest returned his attention to Sean and the Negro.

Sean was washing between Mandigo's legs, laving his cock and balls and ass. The tall slave feigned disinterist, but even from his distance, Prest could see the Negro's soft dark penis, the color of a ripe eggplant involuntarily rising and stiffening. The young rebel lad's first reaction was revulsion that Sean would and could be so intimate with a Ni. . . Negro, but when the black's manhood began to swell and grow, Prest felt that oh so familiar ache begin in his belly. He couldn't believe it! Not only was he once again reacting sexually to another man, but this time to a Negro, a slave! Even this reaction was short-lived. Prest began to chuckle at himself when he realized that he was becoming jealous of Sean's attention to the escaped slave. He watched carefully, though he was some distance away, anxious to see what would develop between the black boy and his lover. He was greatly surprised, however, when Sean merely dried off the black boy and handed him dry clothes. The two turned upstream and Sean waved to Prest as they drew near.

"Hey Prest, look at this. Mandigo doesn't look like an escaped field hand any more, he looks like a freeman."

"Yassur Mr Preston, Ahse got new clothes. Dese here is da fustest new clothes Ah ever did have on dis 'ere black body. Now ah is lookn' lak Ah is da gen-u-wine free man, not no lowly field nigger."

Sean, pulled Mandigo by the arm and whispered something in his ear, then spoke aloud. "I have told Mandigo here that he doesn't have to talk all that shit any more, at least not with us, that he can speak like a normal person. He apparently has been educated as well as you or I, perhaps even better. Isn't that right Mandigo?"

"If it be awrite with you suh, I will stop playing slave now. Perhaps I will have to resume such behavior among others of your race, but Mr. Sean here assures me that neither of you will be offended if I speak in a way much more natural to me, since it is how my mother taught me to speak. She also taught me to read and write and stole or borrowed many books. You see, Sir, mama had a strong deep faith that some day I would be a free man. Her goal was to prepare me for such a time."

"Preston was dumbfounded. In all his twenty years he had never heard no Negro speak like a damnyankee. 'Did your mother know what she was doing was agin' the law, dat she could'a been whipped, sold or even kilt for teaching you dat stuff?"

"Excuse me for saying so, sir, but slaves have been whipped for a damn site less than education and my daddy was sold south for no reason except profit."

Preston's porcelain white skin was infused with a blush so red as to nearly match his flaming hair. "Well Ah'll be damned, Ah'll be goddamed! Ah ain't never heard nor seen nuttin' lak dis in all ma born days! I have a suggestion, fine sir, (laughing at himself and the situation). Why don't ya call yerself Nathan Mandigo? Jes' plain 'Mandigo' sounds pretty African. But Nathan souns very 'merican. I guess we is all gonna have ta git use ta callin' ourselfs 'Americans after dis war is over, not no Northerner nor Southerner, Rebel nor damnyankee. Lots of. . . eh. . . Ex. . . eh. . . free. . . eh slav. . . er dat is. . .Negros. . . er . . . black folks is gonna be runnin; round with onliest one name. You gotta have two! Yer African name what yer daddy gived ya, and a 'merican name."

"Well, Mr. Preston, I do declare. That is one fine idea. And eloquently, if somewhat crudely stated. Thank you, Mr Preston!"

"Yer very welcome, (smiling broadly), Mr. Mandigo." And then Prest did something he had never done before, a gesture that amazed him in its utter simplicity and . . . rightness. He held out his hand for the first time in his life to shake a black hand. 

The young men, one musky dark, the other pale as ice, grinned widely and went on pumping hands for so long that Sean laughingly surmised they might bring water to the surface. 

Back at the campsite, Sean and Nathan began to prepare supper, while Preston went off to practice his quick draw. His practice was somewhat ineffective, perhaps, since he had only one cartridge left, which he was not about to waste, but he had to admit, even to himself, that he was getting very fast indeed.

As he strolled back into the campsite, his gun and holster slung low and tied off just above the knee, he called the two boys over to demonstrate his rapidly improving skill. First he showed Sean that he had removed all the cartridge from the pistol, then squared Sean off in front of him. "Now Sean, When Ah say now, you clap yer hands, lak dis." (demonstrating). "Ready? Now!"

Sean had truly clapped his hands together as quickly as he could, but amazingly, Preston had drawn the pistol from its holster and laid the muzzle between Sean's hands more quickly than he could clap.

"Wow! Very impressive, Prest! Show me again."

"Okey, but dis time, don't tell me when yer gonna clap."

Over and over again, without fail, Preston demonstrated that he could draw faster than Sean could clap, even when he didn't know it was coming.

That night, lying together under stars so numerous as to actually shine light upon the two lovers, they discussed the events of the day. On most nights now, when the chill and the danger level permitted, the boys slept together naked beneath one set of blankets, rather than in separate bed rolls, their clothes near at hand for emergencies. Sean told Preston he was amazingly proud of the way Prest had so quickly changed his attitude toward Nathan. Preston had countered that if the Confederacy lost this war, which he had to reluctantly admit looked like the future, many many attitudes would require changing, and not only in the south. "You know, Sean, he said, "mah hole life, mah feelin's bout everthin' has turned upside down, ever since that day you dragged me inta dat cave and Ah is still tryin' ta figur out if dat's a good thang." He laughed softly, his breath in Sean's face. "Now dis." he said, grasping Sean's cock with both hands, "dis is a good thang." He began softly stroking the huge member as he leaned closer to kiss Sean's face. "And this!"

Sean leaned in, his lips firm, moist and hot. His fingertips went to the back of Preston's neck drawing their faces more tightly together. When they had first kissed, months ago and months after they had first fucked one another, this most intimate of actions had felt strange to both boys, their growth of beard scratchy and weird on each others faces, but now their lips and tongues met freely, lavishly, licking and nibling and sucking ardently.

"Well, Pres," Sean said softly, "what did you think today when you saw me washing Nathan?" As he spoke he softly kissed Pres' cheeks and neck, ran his hands gently up and down and all over the youngsters smooth white body, caressed his slim, wrinkle free cock and tight little balls. Tickled and teased at the firm globes of his tender young ass and the soft tight fuzz covered crack between.

"Wha'dya mean, wha'did Ah think?'

"I mean, where you turned on by that nice looking body and that smooth black cock? Or were you angry and jealous that I might start something with someone else? Or were you disgusted by the whole thing?"

"Hmm. Ah think Ah'd hafta say yes to all of that."

" My turn to say what do you mean?"

"Sssh!" Pres squirmed and writhed under Sean's tender touch mostly caressing Sean's huge cock with both his hands. It was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate on the conversation, but he continued. "Ah mean Ah was disgusted at first. Dis whole Negra thang is gonna be a little hard ta git used ta. But then I was worried you'd lak him and . . . you know. . . well, ya know Ah were kinda jealous."

"So you are tellin' me that you weren't interested in him at all, not turned on by his body or that smooth black thing hanging there?"

"Well Ah sorta was, but ya know Ah ain't even yet convinced that Ah lak boys instead of gals, 'cept fer you a course!" and saying this he bent and took the swollen, plum sized head of Sean's cock in his mouth, his cheeks bulging, his tongue swirling around and around, before returning to kiss Sean's mouth.

"Well." Sean said, "I was very turned on by the sight of that long thin smooth black body. But I didn't try anything with him because of you, because I wasn't sure how you would feel about it and I won't do anything to endanger what we have together. Also I didn't want to . . . you know. . . to assume that because I was white and he was a Negro that he. . .well. . . had to do . . . er. . . anything. You know what I mean? Oh Ooh, yeah do that some more!"

As their kisses intensified and roamed over checks and shoulders and necks and nipples, their bodies squirmed and rubbed and thrust against each other, both cocks rigidly upward. Each dick sliding, bumping and banging against the others moistening hardness and against bellies, thighs, legs and balls. Their hands roamed and roved and grasped and pulled and squeezed. The ardor and strength of their caresses growing ever more intense, their bodies seeking to join in fevered need. Each boy began to moan softly as the intensity of their union rose, in counterpoint to the far off sounds of wolves howling out their identities in the star filled night.

Across the campsite, in the flickering flare of the dying fire, Nathan Mandigo, the proud new African-American citizen, heard the sounds emanating from the joined couple and sighed deeply. He, too had enjoyed the fervid joining of loins, enjoyed it with members of both sexes, with black and with white. 

When Mandigo had been only eleven, the son of his white master, age 20, had forced him to have sex for the first time. He had informed Nathan if he did not do as he was told, his mother would be sold South. The young slave's first time had been extremely painful, doubly so because the young master had had no concern for nicety, or tenderness, but had simply taken him as would a brutal animal. And so it had been with all the times he had been penetrated, brutally taken, by his master. Nathan had grown to truly hate the young master. There had followed years of abuse of all kinds, until, finally, Nathan, at fifteen, had become too old. The master had then moved onto Nathan's younger brother, Caleb. After that, Nathan had had encounters with slave women, one of whom was later the mother of his only child, Aaron, but she and the boy had indeed been sold south and now resided somewhere in the Mississippi delta country. Della, for that had been her name, had been sweet and warm and full of juice, and full of passion for Nathan. 

Somehow, after that, the long years of his sexual servitude had begun to influence his choice of companions and he had chosen several male slaves for his emotional and sensual fulfillment, as well as several more luscious female companions.

And now, as he lie there in the chilling night, beneath a single blanket, his own dark smooth manhood began to rise and strengthen at the sounds wafting across from the two lovers. He reached down and began to stroke himself, picturing himself sandwiched between the two white boys, giving and receiving. His mind flicked back to earlier in the day, when the white boy, Sean had touched him, washed him in the river. Had the other boy, the southerner, not been watching, Mandigo might have reached out and touched the boy in response, but he had restrained himself. He would chance nothing that might endanger his flight to freedom and he had feared the young rebel boy. 

And now the sounds from across the campsite began to intensify. The obvious sounds of two bodies slapping together with strength and urgency. One of the boys was softly crying out "OH! OH!' over and over as if unable to contain and quiet himself. The black boy pictured a large white penis, for he had noticed the size of Sean inside his trousers. The sounds went on and on. Mandigo altered his strokes to match the sounds the boys were making, stroking himself now more swiftly, now more slowly. Harder, then more gently. He imagined Sean's thick white dick repeatedly piercing the cute, very white behind of the smaller, younger boy. His hand flew up and down on his smooth black rod, gripping tighter and tighter, pounding faster and faster. 

Drifting from across the way, the other boy's voice crying out, also stifled but somewhat louder, "Yes, oh my God, yes," brought the final impulse as Nathan's slim, dark penis shot forth its stream of thick white cum, coating his black fist and splashing on his ebony chest and thighs.

Morning rose gray and uncertain, the promise of southern summer hung in the air, but a chill morning dew covered all. The boys were slow to start and slow to rise, so the sun was well up before their first coffee. Preston was somewhat easier with the presence of the Negro, but a bit startled when Sean shared his cup with the black. This was going to take some getting used to, but if the south should lose the war, which looked more and more likely, then many lives and ideas would have to change. Pres had decided some days ago that he would wear his gun on his hip now every day. He was somewhat fearful of these uncertain and violent times. 




Brothers in Arms Ch. 04



All three boys were packing up to begin what would be, at least for one of them, the final leg of their northward journey. Nathan Mandigo had gone to the creek to fill the canteens. Suddenly they heard screams from that direction. "Massah! Massah Preston! He'p Suh? Hep yore pore ol' slave!"

Pres glanced at Sean, Sean glanced back. A few moments passed as the lads tried to figure out the meaning of Nathan's renewed slave status. Then both boys took off running toward the commotion. A large, disheveled and very dirty man sat atop as dirty a horse. His long blond hair hung around his face like a series of greasy ropes. An actual rope extended from his right hand. The other end was fastened around Mandigo's neck. In his left hand the filthy man held a pistol. He kept its business end wavering back and forth between Sean and Preston as he spoke. "Mah name be Clement Jones and dis here is da runnaway slave Nat'an from Mr. Talbert's plantation down Alabamy way. Ah has captured him and will be claimin' the hundred dollah reeward. Ah'll be thankin' ya'll fer not getting' in da way of da rightful corse of da law. Good day to ya'll." He began to turn his horse away but a shout from Preston stopped him.

"Stop Suh! Dat dere is mah personal slave Nathan, mah rightful propitty, and Ah will thank you sir to detest from yer unlawful claim upon him."

The horseman obviously had not expected resistance particularly in view of the large pistol he now held pointed firmly at Preston's midsection. "It would seem suh, that you have no rightful claim, since Ah have possession and have a pistol trained on you."

"Ah repeat, suh, one more time. The slave you have aholt of is mah pers'nal property and you must cease and desist from your unlawful seizure of ma property."

"Er what? What ya gonna do 'bout it?"

"For the third time suh. You are in possession of mah persnal property. I shall not ask a fourth time. Release mah property at once or suffer the consequences!"

"The large man began to laugh loudly, cocked his pistol and pointed it dead in Prescott's face.

Whereupon, Prescott simply drew before anyone could blink and shot the slaver dead through the heart. A look of utter surprise came to the face of the large dirty man; he fell slowly off his horse, slammed to the ground in a cloud of dust and lay still. 

Nathan and Sean stood agape for several seconds before each shook his head. Though there may have been birds singing or other wildlife sounds, there fell an eerie silence over everything and everyone.

"Ho-o-lee shit," Sean screamed! "You did it again! You fuckin' killed him! Shot him dead That's what you did, you shot him dead! And he had his gun on you already. How did you do that? Holy shit!"

"Sombitch tried to shoot me! Did you see that? He tried ta shoot me. Well, don't nobody shoot me if'n Ah kin hep it!"

Mandigo's lips were ashen, set in a tight grimace of fear. "I must ask you, Mr. Preston, do you intend to re-enslave me by force of arms?"

"Huh, Wha?" shaking his head now. Hell no, Ah mean, naw Ah ain't gonna 'slave yah. Wahn't yah here jus now? didnja see I just saved yer Niggra ass fer ya? What da hell ya mean?"

"Never mind all that," Sean said. "What are we gonna do now? Now we got another dead body on our hands."

"Why do we hafta do anythin'? He fucked up, pulled a gun on the wrong person. Why do we hafta do anythin'?"

Well, we can't just leave him layin' here someone will find him and track us and blame us and kill us or arrest us or something. We got to think about this. Even if we bury him, someone'll still find him. Well we can't take the horse," Sean says. "They hang folks for horse stealing out this way. I guess we have to just turn him loose. Maybe he'll find his way back home. But I think we have another gun now and maybe some more ammo if it fits. Me and Mandigo here can witness that he drew first, if anybody asks. When we get where we are going we can tell the law there what happened."

"Wahll, Ah don' know 'bout you, but Ah ain't goin' ta no sheriff or nobody lessen sumbody asks me. And If ya had any sense yah'd know thet Nathan or Mandigo or whoever ain't gonna tell nobody nuthin'. He's gotta stay low. Anyhow, A Niggra ain't got no say in a white man's court. What country do yall live in? As fer this piece a shit here what tried ta shoot me. I aim ta leave him here fer the buzzards ta eat. He ain't no 'sponsibility a mahn. But Ah do thank we gotta quit jawin' and git outta here pretty quick!"

Mandigo was not about to start going through the pockets and gear of a white man, so he stood and watched while the boys searched. They found a good sharps rifle on the horse, plus some food and some hardware, including a coffee cup for Nathan the good pistol and powder and shot for the Sharps and ammo for the revolver, and seventy-seven dollars and change. They also found a change of clothes, but decided they hadn't the time to clean and delouse them. Lashed behind the saddle on the pony, they found a quite usable canvas, adequate to fashion shelter for all of them. 

Within ten minutes they were on their way, heading steadily north and west, not quite sure where they'd hit the Ohio River. They moved quickly walking at a brisk pace the rest of the day. Pres thought they had made about fifteen miles by days end, but Nathan thought it was closer to twenty. The land became increasingly rolling, so they surmised the river was near. Along the way they discussed what should happen if they were assaulted again. Mandigo said he thought they should stick to the story that he was Preston's personal slave. Men did not usually carry proof that the slaves they traveled with belonged to them, unless they sought to sell them. Sean said they would stick to the story that he was Pres' Yankee cousin and the two of them were trying to get to a homestead in Illinois where there uncle Frank lived and had written inviting them to join him.

As evening fell, they boys set up camp against a low hill and set some loose brush at the top so they would hear anyone coming from that direction. Mandigo cut some switches and made a fair shelter from the canvas. The boys agreed that they would take turns on watch, but Preston insisted they could not give Mandigo any of the guns. "It ain't that Ah don' trust him, but no one wud believe that Ah, a honest white southern gentleman, wud let mah slave hold a gun even fer a minute.

As they sat around the fire sipping coffee, Sean asked Preston if he could speak with him alone for a few minutes. Mandigo wondered briefly if he might be the subject of their discussion. He had no right to assume that the boys would share their shelter with him and had no difficulty with sleeping under the stars, but he let his imagination wander about possible sleeping arrangements that night and smiled broadly.

"Well," Sean said softly. "What are we going to do?"

"About what?"

"About Mandigo. He's going to be sleeping in the same shelter with us. That is we will be alone together, and then he will be alone in there with each of us. What are your feelings?"

"Again I Ah ask, about what?"

"Well I just have this feeling that he would be happy to join both of us or ether of us in a little, well, you know, play."

"Ah don' know about making love, er, doin' it with no Niggra. Yah think their stuff ya know their. . . er. . . seed is white lak ours er maybe it's black?"

Sean began to laugh. "Of course it's the same as ours. How silly. Anyway I heard him doing it to himself last night while we were doing it. And I know he was as tempted as I was the other day in the river. I would like to ask him to join us, but I don't want to upset you or disgust you, or lose you. I don't know what it is. Maybe it is kind of wrong to feel this way or something but the thought of that black body just turns me on."

"You mean all. . . with. . . three of us all. . . together?"

"Don't you think it would be fun?"

"Sean McFadden, you are somethin' entirely different. Ah swear Ah never even heard a nutthin lak you. Ah don' know what Ah ever did in mah life to be punished by bein' tied in with you. Three people? Sex with three people? And one of 'em a Niggra?" Preston began to pace back and forth as if possessed, shaking his head and exclaiming over and over. "Damnyankee, goldamn Yankee."

"Well, if you don't want that, well. . . er. . . what would you say if I . . . er. . . made it. . . did it with him?"

"You mean instead a me," facing Sean now feet spread, hands on hips?

"Woah, easy," rushing to throw his arms around Preston, pulling him close, holding him tight. "Now you listen to me Mr. Preston. You are mine and I am yours and as far as I am concerned that will always be. But does that mean that we can never, either of us, be with someone else?"

"Well, does it?"

"I don't know Pres. I am asking how you feel. Ever since that day on the battlefield, I sort of don't stop to think any more about what I want. I want to live. Live all the way and not stop for anything. Feel everything, taste everything, try everything. Look at you. A few months ago you were a scared ignorant little hillbilly from Alabama, set to get your young ass shot off for something you didn't really even believe in. Promised to a sweet young white girl you never even fucked. Now you are a fucking gunfighter, a gunslinger. And . . . well. . . you know. . . in . . . love. . . er. . . I guess, with another guy. Today you shot a man who tried to return a slave to his owner!"

"Ah shot a man who was fixin' ta shoot me! Whether er not Nathan is a slave ain't no bizness of mine!"

"You can pretend you don't care all you want. But I know better, I know you Prest. You could have just let that awful man ride away with Mandigo, but you didn't. You risked your life. For a black man, a Negro. And you are in love, at least I think and hope you are, with a man, me, not a sweet little girl."

"But three people. At once. Ah dunno."

"Look you don't have to if you don't want. And I won't if you don't want me to. Seriously, Prest, you are my love, my life, but I am attracted and turned on by this guy. Can you seriously say that when you saw us the other day in the river, that the sight of the two of us together didn't strike something, didn't excite you?"

Pres dug the toe of one boot in the dirt and looked down at the ground. A bright flush rose up in his face to nearly match the hue of his hair. "Well, Ah. . .that is. . .er. . .well, jes cuz I feel like sumthin' don' mean I gotta jump right out and do it, that don' mean Ah gotta do sumthin' crazy jest cuz Ah felt a little . . . you know. . .'cited"

"Exactly! You don't have to do anything. But you want to. Don't tell me you don't!"

"Well, mebbe, we'll see. How you gonna start this . . . this three person thang?"

"I don't even know for sure that Mandigo is even interested, but just leave it to me. I'll start things and see what happens. You just follow my lead, Okay? And if you don't want to keep on, just quit and I'll understand. Or if you want I can wait until another day. But I am not sure Nathan will be with us much longer. We may reach the river tomorrow."

"You listen to me, Sean McFadden. You are mine. If this here little three person or two person 'fun' thang you got goin' on here takes you away from me, Ah will hunt ya down and shoot ya. An' Ah mean dat!"

Sean reached out, his fingers curled around the back of Pres' neck and pulled his face against his own in a fierce kiss, teeth parted, tongue darting, teeth nibbling. His other hand went down to the front of Preston's pants and grasped his manhood through his slacks. Finally coming up for air, he said, "I love you Prest. At no time in my life did I ever think that I would say that to another man. But it is true. I love you. My life is yours and I will do anything for you and to stay with you. Do you understand?"

Preston merely smiled up at the taller boy, took him by the hand. The two young lovers walked back to the campsite, holding hands and grinning, not caring if Mandigo or anyone else, saw the outward sign of their love. Sean stopped once more before they arrived back at camp. "One more thing, Prest. Er. . . I'd like to give Mandigo some of the money we've got , you know just to help him get by. I thought maybe we would give him some small bills and change so he doesn't have to explain how he got a double eagle or a twenty dollar bill. We have __________ now."

"Ah spose Ah gotta give 'em the shirt, too , huh?"

"That would be very nice of you Presst. He's gotta have a shirt if he is going to look like a freeman."

"Damnyankee," Prest snorted, laughing at the two of them.

Nathan saw the two white boys returning hand in hand and smiled knowingly. He wondered if he had been the subject of the boy's discussion. How did he feel about making it with either of them? If he decided to do so, as he had fantasized last night, he wondered if such action would bring back the pain and degradation of his previous encounters with his master. He hoped he could free himself in this way, too, become truly free, not only in body, but in his spirit and his memories.

The usual chores and the usual chatter seemed to pass at an unnaturally slow pace. The stubborn sun seemed to not want to set. Since none of them knew exactly what would transpire when they all went to bed, all three were edgy and fidgety. "I think," Sean finally said, taking the lead, "I'll turn in. You know, I don't think we will need anyone on watch for the first couple hours, so maybe we could all get some sleep for a couple hours and then Nathan can take the first shift, me the second and Pres the third. That way we'll only have to watch for a couple hours apiece." He stepped inside the makeshift shelter, but made no attempt to lower the flap that would serve as their door. He slowly slipped out of his clothes in full view of the other two boys as if it were something he did every day. He turned his back slightly as he slid off his trousers, but his fabulous manhood could not be easily concealed and swayed heavily with every move. He moved to the other side of the shelter to allow more room and asked. "Whose next?"

Mandigo looked at Prest. Preston looked at Mandigo. Finally the black boy spoke. "Preston. Are you going to be okay sleeping in the same shelter with me? Do you think you can handle it? Instead of answering. Prest moved close to the Negro, placed one finger over the wide black lips to silence them and began to unbutton Mandigo's shirt. When three buttons were loosened, he ran his hand inside the coarse shirt, his small white hand standing starkly out as he caressed the swarthy chest, before easing the shirt off the broad back. He gazed up into the black boy's face. "Not just you, but all of this, even him, is new to me. I am learning. He unbuttoned the cotton slacks of the former slave and let them fall to the dusty ground. Nathan's body shone crimson and ebony in the dancing light of the dying fire and his black cock began to stir and rise, like a shadowy presence springing to life from out of the fire. Preston stood before the Negro and placed both hands flat on the broad shimmering ebony expanse of his chest, very slightly covered with coarse, tightly curled black hair. 

Sean was frozen in time as he watched the scene unfolding before him. His monster of a cock began to unfurl and rise. He touched himself, lightly stroking as Mandigo reached to return the favor and began to undress Preston. The negro was a head taller and fifty pounds at least heavier, with broad pecs and tight biceps and a tight rippled belly from the many years of very hard labor. His skin was very very dark, the color of ripe eggplant. His cock was nearly a negative duplicate of Preston's, but slightly longer, long and slim and smooth as ebony silk, almost entirely free of wrinkles. His balls hung large and lose below, swinging lightly with each move; the firm twin globes of his ass rippled with muscle, his legs well shaped, hard and strong.

Mandigo eased the coarse cotton shirt from Prest, then unbuttoned his slacks and let them fall. He gasped and stepped back two paces when Prest was fully naked, filled with wonder at Prest's alabaster smoothness, like a young startlingly white god. Prest simply held out his hand. The ebony skinned boy took it, pulled them together and grasped Prest tightly in his arms. It was a wonder and a blessing, this acceptance. The joy for Preston was similar to that he had felt in surrendering his body, his being to Sean. This one long caress freed him from his baseless hatred and prejudice in the same way that his body was now free to experience the joy of total surrender. For Mandigo, the miracle came in demolishing the wall of hatred that had been built around his heart and soul by the many years of physical and sexual abuse by his former master. Their mouths closed on one another, dark and light, their tongues twined and their cocks undulated and throbbed against one another. The kiss went on and on, sweetened by the salty pungency of joyous tears streaking down Preston's face. Their hands began voyages of exploration roving over their joined bodies, caressing softly, then roughly, then softly once again, heat rising, hearts pounding.

Sean was close enough to see both boys clearly, their contrasting images dancing and flashing in the firelight. As the intensity of their joining rose, Sean could smell the hot sex-smell from each of them, blended, yet distinct. He stroked himself harder and faster now, fully enthralled by the black and white scenario playing out before him.

Preston released his hold on Mandigo long enough to take his hand and guide him into the low makeshift shelter. Both boys had to kneel to enter, so it happened that they knelt one on each side of Sean. For a long moment, thought and action and desire were frozen in time and space, as the two boys knelt one on each side of Sean, one black cock and one white cock sharing space in the sparse nest of Sean's chest hair. At the base of one, thick tight black coils like steel wool, at the base of the other, soft reddish, nearly pink curls, and jutting up between and below the two, Sean's own incredible manhood, long and thick and heavy looking, almost fearsome in its now stretched and swollen to its full magnificence and fully enclosed by its heavy brown wrinkled foreskin. Sean stretched out his arms and drew them both down to him, down onto him. And they fell full on him like a pair of young animals, filled with a deep hunger of a different sort, a hunger born of heat and need and desire. Their mouths were everywhere, their hands roamed and roved. They kissed his eyes and each others eyes, noses and faces and lips and knees and shoulders and butts and backs. 

Their heat and desire built and grew to a crescendo of need. Finally, Sean, out of control, turned Preston roughly onto his belly, bent Mandigo's steel hard body over Preston's back, and urged the black steel hardness of the Negro's cock between those pale tight white cheeks. All three boys screamed, "Oh!" at the moment of penetration. 

For several long moments, Sean watched the hard black phallus slide in and out between the starkly white cheeks of his young lover. The look of it was overwhelming as a great work of art. As he knelt there, one hand flat on the backs of each of the other boys, feeling their bodies move, the hot sweat building on their bodies, hearing the slapping sounds of their intense union, smelling the raunchy man-sex smells, the sounds of two voices moaning with desire and heat, Sean's consciousness was enraptured, his mind and soul gone, lost in some unknown region of heaven or hell., his body enthralled by a base, primitive urge. He began to move in such a way that his enormous cock slopped and slid and slithered around the bodies of the other two boys. He stopped to smear the wetness that oozed from him all over Preston's face, then moved to feed its plum-sized head to Nathan. Back and forth he fed it to them. Its length and girth and strength was too much for either of them, but each endeavored to engulf him, to swallow his entirety, slurping and gagging and choking, continuing all the while their fervid thrustings at one another.




Brothers in Arms Ch. 04



Sean denied it to them then, for a time, and each cried "Oh," in disappointment as its force and strength left them. He slid under Preston's writhing body. He watched for a moment as the youngster's smaller but beautifully shaped penis drew circles in the air from the force of being fucked from behind, reached to grab its flawless white length and stuffed it in his mouth. He sucked hard with cheeks and throat, and slavered with his tongue as Mandigo's fevered strokes drove Preston's cock in and out of his throat.

It was not long before the taut thin length of Preston's rigid cock began to spew its thick white cum into Sean's mouth and throat. Sean promptly slid out from under Prest and rushed to kiss Mandigo's purplish lips, curling his tongue inside and sharing Preston's cum. The two boys kissed long and avidly, sharing and swapping the cum back and forth until only the funky, bleachy, salty aftertaste remained.

Sean stood as best he could in the confined space and fed his huge dick into Mandigos open mouth. All thought of gentleness or tenderness or love disappeared now as Sean's need increased, His hips moved hard and fast, driving the huge lump of his penis head deep into Mandigo's throat as the black boys huge deep thrusts pounded into Prestons tight anus. Prest fell to the blanket, melting and surrendering his ass, his mind, his body, to the black boy who could have been his slave only a few months earlier, almost dislodging the two pricks. But the obvious feeling of surrender and release sent chills through the black boy, who immediately screamed out and began to unload his sperm deep inside Preston's tender bowels. Orgasm caused his throat to clamp tight increasing the stimulation Sean needed to cause his huge pulsing cock to fire its own huge load down Mandigo's pulsing throat.



Brothers in Arms Ch. 05



Morning found the three lovers as a sliver of sunlight pierced the shelter and fell upon them. Each smiled broadly as he awoke, each body sticky with cum and sweat and saliva and anal fluids. They laughed when they realized that none of them had kept watch during the night. 

They discovered a new ease among them. The touched one another constantly, little pats on the ass or soft touches to one cheek or another, a short caress to the back of the neck or a quick peck on the lips or cheek. They knew that all such behavior must come to a stop if anyone else were around. They had been surprised by sudden appearances of danger several times and Sean insisted they keep a sharp eye out. "If we don't want our gunslinger here leaving a trail of dead bodies all the way to Kay Ro, we'd better keep a sharp eye out!"

Mandigo chimed in with his contribution. "So, what should we call our erstwhile companion? How about 'The Nancy Kid'."

Preston pretended to be offended. But Sean burst into laughter. "Hmm not bad. How about Kid Cocksucker?"

"Aw rite, aw rite 'nuff a dat. Now dat we'uns has all had our little laugh we can show a little respect to da one GUY here who is a real man."

Mandigo was about to reply with a cute quip about certain behaviors of the night before, but thought better of it and held his wit in check. 

All three boys felt an increasing sense of urgency now that they had a definite goal for their journey, so they packed up camp rapidly and got on their way. It wasn't long before they began to notice a line of trees in the distnce and before long they came upon a brisk stream flowing in a basically northern direction.

"I wouldn't be surprised if this little creek emptied into the Ohio River somewhere soon," Mandigo said. "Also that means that very soon we are going to start running into people. Maybe a lot of people. I don't expect there is a lot of law and order out this way. There are probably a lot of not so nice people who would kill us for our shoes. And I met at least one Negro down south who was a free man, but was kidnapped in Cairo and sold down south. Pretty soon I will have to be leaving you two for your own and my safety. If we, if you, either or both of you, gets to Cairo, try to look for a free black named little Mike who runs a saloon there. That's where I am going. He helps, uh, men like me get to Chicago. Until then I have to stay pretty much out of sight."

"Nathan, Mandigo," Prest said. Sean and Ah wan you t have some money in case you need it so here is thirty seven dollars in ones and change. Don't be offended or too proud, 'kay. We want you to have it. We uh. . . er. . . kinda lak yah.

Well kind sirs, I could take offense, but I would be acting against my own self -interest, so I will gratefully accept. We shall call this a loan and some day I shall repay you. That way it is a promise that I will see the two of you again."

The next day, as the Ohio drew within sight and the boys began running into other people frequently, Sean and Preston turned to speak to the ex-slave and he had just disappeared. Gone as easily and quickly as he had appeared. They discovered from talking to others they happened upon, that Cairo was still quite a distance to the Southwest. Apparently the river bent far south in this area, and joined the Mississippi at the very Southern tip of Illinois. Heading south made both the boys nervous, but after a time they discovered they could pay for passage aboard a flat boat which would take them to Cairo by the end of the day after next, or they could take a ferry across the river and they would be in Indiana. All they new about Cairo was a few tidbits of hearsay from Nathan, but since they knew absolutely nothing about Indiana, they decided to take the boat and head for Cairo. The old trapper from whom they got their information was careful to warn them that someone might con them or rob them or shoot them at any moment along the way and to sleep with their hands in their pockets and one eye open. They drew a few stares at the beginning, but learned rapidly to rigidly guard against any open show of affection between them. They pitched their little tent for the night and slept fitfully.

By ten the next morning they had staked out a space on the deck of a flat boat that wended its way down river. This would be the first night since they had met that they would not be sleeping side by side and Sean was especially bereaved to not have his naked young lover's body against him in the night. At dockside this morning, the boys had a strange sensation that every person of color was looking at them with a certain unnamed expression, a sort of deference neither could explain. And now on the crowded boat, too, black faces looked knowingly at them for a fleeting second each before disappearing into anonymity.

White folks looked them over, noted the gunman's pistol tied at Preston's thigh and gave them a pass. That night, to secure their belongings, they slept atop the canvas hump that held their rolled up gear. All day they traveled in near silence, only speaking occasionally. Steamboats and side wheelers and rear wheelers and canoes and flatboats passed them in both directions in increasing numbers as the day wore on. In the late afternoon of the second day, they came within sight of the strange place that was Cairo, Illinois. The city seemed to be located in the middle of the river. The Mississippi rolled in a wide semi-circle to the east and the Ohio curled south. And right in the midst of those two circles, sat the bustling, dirty, swampwater town of Cairo. It seemed that the slightest wave would submerge the whole place. It was in the river and on the river and of the river. Once on the dock they set about trying to find lodging. After struggling through the crowded streets of the dock area for about ten minutes, they were accosted by a small young negro of about twelve years. "Sahs, sahs, please sahs I has a message for ya.

"For us," Sean asked? But no one knows us. Who could know we are here?"

"'Scuse me sahs but cud ya please slow dawn. Ise jes a little girl 'n I cain't hardly keep up."

Stopping short, since they were headed no particular place to begin with, the two boys began to speak at once. Sorting it out, Prest finally spoke. 

"Lookee here gal. What you mean messin' with a coupla white folks? Now git along home for somebody grabs ya."

"But Suh, I gots a message for ya."

"Ya know me?"

"No suh!"

"Then how dya know da message is fer me."

"Well suh, Lil Mike he say look fer two white men, one what's taller and dark headed, t'other gwan be red in the head and wearing a gun like in the dime books. Ain't that ya'll suh?"

Sean and Preston exchanged glances as if to say 'that could only be from Nathan'.

"Well, gal, don' jes stand der blubberin', tell us da message!"

"Lil Mike suh, he say tell dem two white genlmens dey is ta come to da Depot and he'd be 'bliged ta buy ya'll's supper and a drink," bowing slightly, "Thet's all suhs, thank yall."

"Woah, girl, don't be rushing off, Sean said. I'll give you a half-dollar if you will show us the way."

"A haf Dollah? Goodness suh, fer haf dollah more I'd show ya all the way ta Canada!" giggling as if that were the funniest thing.

Sean hefted the heavy parcel over his shoulder and began to follow the energetic little Negress at high speed through the crowded streets.

"Here ya'll is suhs dis here is Da Depot, Lil Mike inside der." 

Prescot was feeling a bit uncomfortable and unhooked the safety loop from his pistol. "Uh Sean, you gonna jes waltz on in der?"

Sean chuckled. "Well I've got you to protect me, so I'm feeling mighty brave. Let's just go in and see what awaits us."

From the outside the place resembled nothing more than a pile of rubble, the rickety porch was askew, the windows were crooked, the river seemed to be lapping at the very entrance, in short the entire structure looked as if it might crash into the river and float away at any minute. A hand painted sign hung over the door with crooked lettering "THE DEPOT". Sounds of very loud voices and even louder music poured from the dimly lit interior and the two boys took a second to adjust their eyes to the gloom. As the boys stepped inside it became immediately obvious that they were now the only two white men in the place. The noise level dropped by several decibels and dozens of black faces, male and female turned in their direction.

"Uh," Mike stammered, a bit disconcerted by the circumstances. "We're looking for Little Mike. Or, uh, maybe I should say he's looking for us."

A dozen or more thumbs gestured toward a closed door behind the bar, but as the boys began to move in that direction, a petite light skinned mulatto woman with freckles and a beautiful figure, dashed through the door and slammed it behind her. A moment later Mike emerged. 

He was the largest human being Sean had ever seen. It seemed he was at least seven foot tall and over 300 pounds. His neck was square, shoulders straight and level. His chest formed a vee down to his narrow waist. Legs, arms, head, hands, feet all seemed to be square chunks of obsidian. The formidable look of him was softened, however, by the light of a beatific smile and sparkling intelligent eyes.

"Welcome to my club, The Depot, young white men." The voice was deep and resonant but soft and mellifluously inviting, rising from a barrel chest through a thickly cabled neck and prominent Adam's apple. "Wont you please come This way." The giant of a man bent to whisper in the ear of the beautiful obviously mixed-race girl, who promptly turned and scurried away.

Sean and Preston moved cautiously past Li'l Mike and through the door. Inside, the room was decked in quiet splendor. Paneling made from exotic wood lined the entire room. Bookshelves of the same rare materials were much in evidence. A warm fire blazed in an ornate fireplace with brass andirons. And everywhere, everywhere there were books. The shelves were full, the tables overflowed, some were scattered across areas of the carpeted floor. Even some of the chairs held books. Sean had been to the New York Public Library. He judged that this room held about half as many books.

The dark giant shook hands with Prest first, then Sean. Though their relatively small hands disappeared in his, his touch was firm, but gentle, almost soothing. "I have taken the liberty of ordering you both a bowl of stew and some bread and butter. Will that be sufficient do you think?"

Sean and Prest looked stupidly back and forth at one another and mumbled.

Mike chuckled softly. "Have a seat, gentlemen, would either of you like some brandy. I have a very special bottle of Napoleon that I have had stashed away."

The boys had not yet found their words, could only nod.

Mike poured them all a splash of cognac and settled behind a vast desk of very dark wood Sean surmised might be ebony and put his feet up. "I suppose you wonder why I asked you here," the gentle giant queried. 

Both boys started to speak, stammered a bit, sorted it out and finally Sean Spoke. "Well, we assumed it has something to do with Mandigo."

"In a sense, yes. He is eternally grateful for your help and he assured me that he trusted both of you with his life. I had a feeling there was a little more to it than that, but did not press. Have either of you ever heard of the underground railroad?"

"Yup, its an evil conspiracy to steal slaves from their rightful masters," Prest opined without thinking.

"Huh," Sean asked?

'Lil Mike laughed aloud. "Now I am not so sure I should say what is on my mind. The underground railway is a series of stops along the way where escaped slaves can make their way north, sometimes as far north as Canada, and find freedom."

"Is that where Mandigo is, Canada," Sean asked?

"If he is lucky, Mandigo is in Chicago or will be in a few days," Li'l mike answered. "If he were going to Canada, that could take as long as a month more. But he said he wanted to stay in the United States, to build a place for his people in the future. He also mentioned that he wished to stay in the states in the hope that he might see the two of you again. I must say that he was mightily impressed by the two of you. Enamored you might say. Anyway, and you are sworn to secrecy, this is a stop on the underground railroad. It's why I called it the Depot. As I said, I have a proposition for the two of you."

"We're listening," the two boys replied in unison, a synchronicity that was happening more and more frequently as they grew to know each other better and better.

"I want to hire you, especially you, Prest. Things are becoming more and more violent around here as more and more blacks move this way. Many people say that our president will free the slaves any day now. With copperheads and others around, and others from Kansas and Missouri right across the river. I am a man of peace and nor well versed in protecting myself. Not only that, but if I were to defend myself against a white man, I would be they would lynched within the hour. So I want to Hire you, Preston, to be a sort of bodyguard, to fight my battles for me. I have heard that you are very very quick with a gun."

"And me, what would I do," Sean asked?

"Well, you would be sort of my white eyes and ears, my white voice. You would be a kind of go between when I need to deal with white men. With lawyers and banks and land offices and tax people and agreements and disputes and the like."

"I don't know if I want my life to be about shooting and killing," Preston said.

The pay is ten dollars a day, seven days a week. That's about three times the average pay around here, but I also have another thing that I can offer you that you might find hard to find around here, a place for you to live together without anyone bothering you. If you get my meaning. And at no cost. Plus you could get your meals here at the club for free if you don't mind being seen eating with Negros."

Again, both boys started to talk at once. Mike held up a hand to silence them. "Take time to think it over. I'll give you 'til morning. In the meantime I have a room prepared for you. I will have one of my people prepare a bath for you and I can send up a bottle if you like. No charge for anything. Spend the night, enjoy, bathe, sleep, drink, eat. I will send someone up for you around ten in the morning and you can give me your decision then, okay?"

"I want to ask you one thing, first," Sean said. "Why are you doing this for us? What's the catch?"

"Believe me, if you decide to work for me, it will be a very hard thing. We will have to be very careful or every white man and woman in town will be against you There is a lynching fever in this town, and tensions between North and South, and between the races are high. I also expect that our president will soon make a decision that will anger many. I ask for your help because I was assured by a runaway slave that you can be trusted. I can trust no one else who is white. And I need white people for the reasons I have already stated."

Sean looked at Preston.

Preston looked at Sean.

Both boys shrugged in unison. Sean looked at Li'l Mike, held out his hand. "It's a deal. We will talk it over tonight and give you our answer in the morning. In the meantime, I sure, could use a bath, and a bottle of whiskey." Sean rose and leaned to shake Mike's hand. Even Preston hesitated only slightly before shaking the huge black hand.

Mike raised his voice, deep and booming, "Cassandra, would you come here please?"

The beautiful mixed-race girl entered almost immediately. "Cassandra would you please show these two gentlemen to the little house on fourth street. Stay there with them and get them anything they need. I know they want a bath. And get them a bottle from Ned and anything else they need. And bring them back here at ten in the morning. And, Cassie, You have nothing to fear from these gentlemen, even if they are white men. Do you have any questions?"

"No suh, Mr. Mike." The girl stood back a few paces and waited patiently. 

"Okay, until ten tomorrow then."

The young girl handed over the bottle of whiskey. 

The boys' lodgings turned out to be cozy, if not elaborate. A kitchen and sitting room and a bedroom. Though there was no plumbing, there was a small separate room that held a giant copper bath tub. The floor had a drain in it so that used bath water could be merely spilled to start over.

It took nearly an hour to carry and heat enough water for a bath. The boys finally convinced the young mulatto girl that they had no further use for her services. At last they were alone. They stood in the small room, steam rising wetly from the tub and looked lovingly at one another. Prest stepped closer. "You first, he said and began to unlace Sean's muslin shirt. "I think we must be the luckiest guys alive," Prest said, running both his palms over the broad expanse of Sean's chest. The hair there was dark and curled, but very sparse, like a shadow around both hard brown nipples. Prest had recently become aware that Sean's nipples were extremely sensitive to manipulation and began to roll each hard wrinkled nipple between a thumb and forefinger. Sean moaned softly. Preston continued stroking one palm across Sean's chest and nipples, with the other he reached down, checking Sean's reaction to his caresses. As he suspected, that enormous organ that he had grown to love so much, stirred and pulsed under his hand. Deftly, he removed the remainder of Sean's clothing and led him by the hand into the tub. 

Cassandra had left them a bar of soap scented with lavender and the soothing scent filled the room as Prest began to tenderly wash Sean's hair. Prest paused for a moment to doff his own clothes, then returned to the tub. Cassandra had left several buckets of warm water and Prest now used a part of one of them to rinse Sean's hair before continuing his ablutions. Softly, tenderly his fingers washed Sean's face, his eyelids, his ears. As his fingers scrubbed at the rough shadow of Sean's beard, he conjured up an image of that scruffiness scratching across the back of his neck and shoulders when Sean filled him from behind. His thoughts caused an immediate erection in his own long thin penis, its pink head peeking from beneath its retracting foreskin.

Sean reached with one hand, hot from the steaming water and stroked Prest's cock once, sliding the foreskin up and back. A crystal clear drop appeared on the tip, glistening in the lamplight. Sean leaned, placed one hand on each of Prest's hips, and licked carefully as if capturing a rare gem with his tongue. The young rebel barely overcame an immense urge to thrust his aching cock deep into Sean's throat. "Not now," he panted, "not yet. Let me do this." he moved to the end of the tub and began to wash Sean's feet. Sensuously he rubbed and bathed each toe separately, caressed Sean's aching feet as only a lover can do, pressing deeply enough to cause some pain, massaging away deep tension. Sean sighed deeply and sunk another inch or two in the soothing water, as Prest's loving hands moved up his calves, caressed his inner thighs, teased and tickled the backs of his knees. Avoiding Sean's bulging hugeness and large wrinkled balls for the time being, Preston returned to the head of the tub and leaned Sean forward. His hands moved more roughly as they worked on Sean's neck and shoulders. He could feel the tension draining from Sean's body as he worked. And as he worked on Sean's body, his cock was everywhere, trailing across a thigh, a toe, a hip, lolling against Sean's lower back as he worked his shoulders, brushing a cheek; leaving a trail of fire-like sensations in its wake.

Sean had never been so intensely provoked, so on edge.

"Stand up," Preston urged and began to wash Sean's back, scrubbing with his nails, just enough to excite the skin. As he scrubbed Sean's back, his cock rested and swayed and pulsed against Sean's lower back and bobbed in and out of Sean's shapely ass crack.




Brothers in Arms Ch. 05



Prest's hands massaged downward, working the muscles of Sean's firm ass cheeks. He drew a sharp intake of breath from Sean, "ussh," when his fingers ran up and down between those cheeks. Pausing first to work up a lather of the sweetly scented soap, Prest went on. Sean screamed "OH" as Prest began to wash the first several inches inside Sean's anal canal, using first one soapy finger, and then two, moving them quickly in and out and round and round. 

Prest stepped back one step. "Turn around," he commanded. He spent considerable time 'soaping' Sean's chest and nipples, his underarms. Now he began the serious work or laving Sean's cock and balls. He pushed back Sean's foreskin, then pulled it forward over a soapy finger, washing the inside of Sean's foreskin, then retracted it tightly to stroke firmly with his other soap filled fist. He carefully washed each of Sean's balls, stretching the wrinkly skin to minister to every inch. He poured two bucketsful of clear hot water over Sean, using his fingers to make sure the clear water got to all those soapy places, inside and out. He took one of the large fluffy towels Cassandra had left, took Sean by the hand and lead him to stand before the fireplace, and slowly and lovingly dried off his entire body.

Now a kind of battle began. Sean, now so clean and fresh smelling, was aware of the days-old odor of his friend's body as perhaps he had never been before. But far from repelling him, the foetid stench of Prest's old sweat and old cum and old urine and, yes, even the faint odor of his lover's ass, brought back all those days and nights in makeshift shelters and caves and on muddy river banks; those fevered nights in Mrs. Reagan's hayloft; those frigid nights joined together in a single bedroll. He grabbed Prest roughly by the shoulders yanked their bodies tight together, and began to kiss him harshly, as if trying to devour his lips, his tongue, his face. 

Neither boy had had a chance to shave recently, so their beards were rough as sandpaper on each others faces. Prest, the fairer one, had sensitive skin and the frisson of Sean's beard chaffed his tender face until it blazed like fire. 

Prest, in his own stead,was mightily turned on, his cock painfully stiff from all the tender attention he had already given Sean. But he wanted more, was not about to give up the struggle. He held Sean's hands down to his side, struggling, and forced him back onto the bed, throwing himself atop Sean's writhing body. Pinning Sean's wrists to the bed, he went to work immediately, his tongue lapping, teeth nipping. With his teeth, he pulled at the tiny hairs around Sean's nipples then twirled each hard nub between his teeth, biting down lightly, moving to nip Sean's neck, his cheeks his ears, traveling down, planting tiny bites of painful pleasure across Sean's belly down his legs and up the inside of his thighs, stopping just short of his cock, avoiding his balls.

Sean moaned and thrashed under Preston's ministrations. His massive cock, standing straight and tall and stiff, was leaking copious amounts of clear fluid onto His belly, balls, and thighs. The fat head of his cock pushed back its wrinkled foreskin by the sheer power of its growth, until it curled around the base of his cock head like a large brown wrinkled collar.

Prest forcibly turned Sean onto his stomach. Without warning he dove his face into Sean's ass crack. His tongue lashed at Sean's freshly washed hole, flicking and circling and alternately poking inside. Sean squirmed and moaned and thrashed about at this all-new sensation. Preston reached beneath Sean and grasped his huge cock, drawing it under and back. And now he began to alternate, licking and sucking first Sean's tender ass hole, then his plump cock head, back and forth, back and forth until Sean was nearly mad with the tension.

There was only a short pause while Prest adjusted, kneeling behind Sean, placing one arm under his belly and using his knees to lever Sean to a kneeling position. Using his hand to guide him, he immediately penetrated Sean, driving his slim, pink, iron-hard penis deep in one thrust. Over and over he slammed into Sean's tight tender anus, rolling toward impending release.

After many, many deep thrusts slammed into that secret place deep inside him, Sean suddenly pulled away, Preston's cock making a loud sound as it popped out past his anal ring. He swung around, took Preston down as if they were wrestling, and threw himself full length atop the smaller boy. Smothering his face with kisses, his neck and ears with tiny nibbles and bites. He hooked both arms under Preston's knees drawing them up and back, rotating Prest's pink puckered ring upward. His massive cock head bounced and throbbed at Prest's tender opening. "Oh yes! Oh god yes," Preston screamed as Sean thrust strongly forward popping past the tight anal ring! Preston tried to protest. His plan had been to take Sean first and then surrender himself totally to the other, but Sean was having none of it. He was determined to establish himself as the dominant sexual force in Preston's life.

"Look in my eyes," he commanded as he drove fully and deeply into Prest's bowels. "Look!"

Preston saw deep hunger, a raw power stronger than need, stronger than any resistance. And yet, Sean's eyes burned with a desire that could only be based in love. Prest found himself once again, in complete thrall to the older boy. In life he may be strong, a killer, a gunfighter. But in bed his body, his heart, his very soul belonged to Sean. Only to Sean! And as the older, heavier boy pounded and pounded his massive cock against that inner secret place deep within him, he began once again to lose himself, to experience the completeness of pleasure, of fulfillment, of joy, borne only of complete and total surrender. He melted into the mattress completely, all his body loose and giving, his anus spread wide and relaxed to receive the almost violent onslaught of Sean's impossibly huge manhood. And he knew, that his person, his full manhood, his completeness, came only from his devotion, his surrender to his beloved.

Sean pulled out temporarily, then flipped Preston over, flattening him against the mattress and driving down, down, down, the invading penis large and hard and relentless against his prostate until he screamed out his release into the night and spent his seed over and over against the bedcovers below. His clutching anus caused Sean to explode deep within him, both boy's minds totally blank, their eyes full of exploding fireworks, their egos gone, their identities melded into one being.

It was nearly an hour before the two recovered consciousness, Sean's hardness slowly ebbing, his huge manhood slowly slipping from Preston's anus. They smiled and snuggled and kissed one another before spending the night nestled like spoons in a drawer. 

At eight, Cassandra awakened them by knocking softly. As they drifted up from slumber, both became aware of their intense hot sex smell that filled the room, aware that the young mulatto girl could probably smell them too. They were reconciled that some persons would of necessity share the secret of their intimate union. They spoke softly to one another, promising to be cautious, to take care that personal information not be too widely spread.

By ten they were ready to meet again with L'il Mike. "Don't say anything to Mike until I finish talking first, OK, Sean requested. "I have just had a great idea,"

Once the boy's were in Mike's presence, Sean waited to let the large Negro speak first.

"Have you boys decided," Mike asked?

"We have a counter proposal," Mike answered. "Suppose we keep the money the same, but me and Preston here, set ourselves up as a private company, say S&P protection services? Then no one can say we work for you, only that you hired our company, very business like. I think we could work much more effectively on your behalf if other whites thought we were just in business, doing our business, especially if we also had white customers. We would be careful not to hire out to any two interests who might be judged a conflict of interests. If you set us up,we might even be willing to kick you back a certain percent from any other business we might garner."

Li'l Mike chuckled. "You sir have a very devious mind. I like the way you think. What you propose might actually work better than what I had proposed. However, and this requirement must be solid and unequivocal. My own personal safety and the personal safety of certain others I might designate, must be foremost. I live in constant fear that white persons might kill me or kidnap and enslave me. This is my primary concern, and must be yours."

Sean looked to Preston, who stood to his right and had remained silent until now. "Prest, think long and hard, and if you can, give the man your word of honor. Look at me. Don't do this lightly, our lives could depend on this and, obviously, the lives of others. We might end up hated by every white person in this city. Also we will have to be very careful not to give anyone any further ammunition with which to destroy us."

"Well, wha'd'ya thank?"

"I am prepared to give my word of honor, in all that I might do. But as for the protection part, you are the one with the gun and the know how. I would be setting up the business, doing the planning and organization and so on. You would be the one who might face death every day!"

"Hmm, wall, Ah ain't got no other job and ain't likely ta get one. Kin ya'll give me a better idee what ya'll might be axing me ta do?

"Well, protect me and a few others like little Cassandra, for instance, if anyone wishes to harm us or capture us. Also from time to time there might be a few individuals, and some shipments of gold or money or people for you to guard safely to their destination, say Chicago or St. Louis perhaps."

"You talkin' 'bout runaway slaves, ain't ya?"

"That may indeed be the duty at times, but not only them."

"That suh is agin' the law!"

"And slavery is against the law of god, the law of right and wrong.. Before the end of the year, or perhaps next year, our president will free the slaves as part of an effort to remove the labor force from the south and quicken the end of the war."

"Mah own pers'nal worry would be bein' arrested and jailed, maybe lynched." Preston held up a hand as if to say halt, to stop further discussion. "Not long ago, Ah wudda been shocked, maybe shot ya, over helpin' 'scaped slaves. But now, Ah b'leeve Ah've changed. Ya see Ah never ownt no slaves, but I has ta say I wanted to. Ah never before knowed a slave, ya know, lak a person, wudda never thought they was people. But now I has got to know at least one and unnerstan' that he akjally is a person. An' Ah also seen them marks on his back an right then I knowed that I never cud do that to nobody, not even no slave, so Ah reckon Ah ain't cut out ta be no slave owner no way."

"But you gotta unnerstan' If'n Ah do dis, Ah still has ta do it ma way. Ah ain't inta killin' no one who ain't tryin' ta kill me. Me an Sean here, we done give up killin' when we walked offn that battlefield." Prest stopped short, indicating that he had said all he cared to, and turned to Sean. "Ain't that right, Sean?"

Sean laughed lightly, shaking his head in amazement at the changes his friend had gone through.

"That's right, Preston. We did. We gave up war and killing. But this will be different. We will be standing for real people, people we know, not some bullshit ideas like 'The Confederacy' or 'The Union'. Are you ready to give Li'll Mike your word that you will serve and protect him and his?"

"All right, yeah, Ah'll give ya mah word. And mine is the word of a Suthren Gentleman. Well akjually, Ah ain't never been no gentleman, but jes the same. There!"

Sean spoke up, holding out his hand "Well Sir, you have yourself a deal! Let's sit down and work out the details."

"How about over breakfast?" The big Negro moved to shake the hand of both boys.

 ***

The boys stood proudly as the workman descended the ladder from painting their new sign on their new headquarters (their house) that they now rented from Li'll Mike. "P&S PROTECTIVE SERVICES," the sign read. Both Ps and both Ss were in fancy type and gold lettering. They had set up a screen to portion off part of their parlor/bedroom/et al, and installed a desk and chairs where they could interview prospective clients, of whom they presently counted only Mike so far, but were hopeful.

They walked together to the Cairo Times office to purchase advertising and cards for their new business, feeling quite impressed with themselves. Mike had fronted each seventy dollars, a week's pay. They had each spent ten dollars for a new suit. Preston's was all in black and silver, set off by a black cowboy-style hat tipped back at a jaunty angle. The suit was tailored to highlight every slim inch of his body. A new gun belt of black and silver gripped his trim waist, holster tied off to his thigh gunfighter style. A brand new weapon rested lightly therein, the silver logo of the company engraved on the holster and gun butt. Black boots shined to a gleaming luster, finished off the ensemble.

Sean wore a businessman's suit and vest of soft dove gray and a matching fedora, brim bent rakishly over one eye, and gold watch chain looped across the vest. His boots were of a very soft Italian leather the color of a dove's wing. The well-tailored suit fit him like a calf-skin glove. The tailor had asked Sean which side he 'dressed' on, but the young man did not understand until the tailor explained that he would allow a bit extra material in one pant leg or the other for Sean's 'equipment', nonetheless, the trousers displayed Sean's assets to their fullest extent. In one hand Sean carried a soft black brief case, (so far empty) and in the other a soft cloth bag containing a brand new Sharp's carbine. The business partners had decided that this would be Sean's weapon of choice, and had plans that afternoon to begin practice with both weapons. 

The muddy streets bustled with folks on their way here and there, hurrying about. Both Sean and Preston noticed that Negroes gave the right-of-way to whites, detouring from the wooden sidewalks into the muddy street when a white person approached. Sean, in particular felt very uncomfortable whenever a black did so for him, however, he decided, better to live to fight another day.

The town was extremely busy with supplies and warships for the Union army coming and going at all hours of day and night. Saloons were open all day and night and liquor flowed freely. 'Ladies of the night', were everywhere, and several had propositioned each of the boys before they had gone three blocks.

Both were feeling quite pleased with themselves, though so far they had accomplished nothing real. Suddenly there was a young black child of about eight slogging in the mud beside them. "Suhs, suhs. Mister Mike, he say come quick over to Da Depot. Dere be trouble. Hurry suhs, please. The boys looked at each other. "Well, here goes," Sean quipped. "S&P Protective Services in Action!"

Sean and Preston arrived in front of the Depot within a few minutes of being summoned. A small crowd had gathered and Sean could see that it was quickly evolving to blacks on one side and whites on the other. He inserted himself at the front of the black crowd, lightly hefting the still covered Sharps, and urged Preston into place beside him. 

A particularly rough looking man of about forty, gray and disheveled, spoke out. "Stand aside, we intend to enter!"

"Do you have a warrant," Sean asked? We Don't need no warrant fer a nigra place. We have reason to believe that this place is hiding fugitive slaves, and we intend to enter and reclaim them for their rightful owners."

"We, on the other hand," Sean stated coolly and firmly, "have been hired to protect this establishment from those who would do harm. Your entry is denied, so just turn around and go home. I will ask the proprietor if he knows anything of runaways, and report his answer to you, otherwise you must return with an officer of the law and a search warrant signed by a certified judge. It is partially to preserve our rights as Americans under the constitution, such as the right to protection from illegal search and seizure, that this terrible war is being fought. Further action on your part could be seen to be unpatriotic."

Murmurs went through the crowd. Several people yelled out phrases like: "Yankee rights or Yankee laws, you mean." Others yelled back from the unionist side.

A small group of free blacks and Quakers and other abolitionist had by now gathered to one side and they began to yell out slogans.

Preston slowly, but in full view of everyone, unhooked the hammer loop from his pistol and shifted his weight. Sean let the cloth cover slither to the ground, unveiling the repeater rifle. Neither of the boys made a threatening move, but both were prepared for anything.

"Under the Fugitive Slave Act, every citizen is required to assist in the apprehension of runaway slaves," the unruly man went on.

"Do you have any proof that any runaway is or has been inside? Because if you had proof, and could show me that proof, then perhaps I might be persuaded to assist you in the return of said property. As it is, we have only your word that anything is amiss. Not only that, but I believe that under the circumstances, during this war, that returning a slave to his owner might be thought to be helping the Confederate cause. That sir, might possibly be construed as treason. Two more things you may wish to consider. Any day now, our president is set to free the slaves, probably before you get to the south with the slaves, then where will you be?"

The fomenter was loosing ground as the crowd began to choose up sides, angry voices rising. He yelled to Sean. "Well that's one thing, what's the other?"

"The other thing, my friend is that my associate here, (gesturing to Preston) and I have a signed contract to protect this property and its inhabitants. If you choose to ignore my advice and storm this building, seven or eight of you will probably be shot before you make it inside. We have no wish to harm anyone, so please disperse."

By this time the local police had arrived. Though they probably sided with the slave hunters philosophically, like all good cops they hated disturbance and paperwork, so they sought to calm and disperse the crowd rather than incite it. They also seemed unsure of the Sean and Prests' legal status. t "Okay ,okay, everyone go home. Break it up! There's nothing to see, nothing to do here, Y'all go on home now. Go on about your business. Go on. Git," the cops said as they began to force their way through the crowd.

A few minutes later, after the trouble had passed, the police sergeant came up to Prest and Sean. "What's yer game, you two. What fer are yah stickin' yer necks our fer a bunch of nigras?"

As if doing business with coloreds was an everyday thing, Sean immediately proffered a business card with the silver and black S&P logo. "We do not serve the Negro we do not serve the white man. We are a business firm whose service is to provide security against burglary, forced entry and bodily harm to businesses and others who cannot protect themselves. We are totally within the law and have no interest in starting trouble only to end or prevent it."

"Wall, jes' watch yerslves around here, this is mah town, ya heer?"

"Yes sir Sergeant, and thank you for helping us diffuse a potentially violent scene."

"Okay,okay, break it up now, go on."

A loud voice shouted from a few steps away. "Hey, You!"

All three men turned to face the sound. The large burly man was advancing, gun drawn, brandishing it at all or any of the three. The man fired once and dust snickered up on Preston's shiny boots. The policeman reached to unholster his pistol, but Preston was much faster. Another bullet whizzed past the sergeant's face. Sean fired and the man crumpled immediately to the ground.




Brothers in Arms Ch. 05



"You saved my life, boy. You did, you saved my life. Are you a gunslinger? You wanted somewhere?"

"No Sarjent, Ah ain't no gunslinger. But I keep have'n to be. Folks keep tryin' ta shoot me. This here's the third one. After the furst one Ah 'cided ta learn how ta draw an' shoot."

The policeman turned Prest around to shake his hand. "Well, youngster, I am in your debt. Anything you need, you just ask. Anything!"

Not wanting to incite further fear or hatred, The boys did not immediately enter The Depot, but waited until after dark to report their progress to Li'l Mike, who of course knew the whole story by then. Over shots of Napoleon Brandy and fine Cigars, they congratulated one another on their luck and success.

"Do not assume that the sergeant's debt includes honesty or fairness to me and mine," Mike cautioned them. "He is after all, a white man. Cross the river any of three directions and you are in the south. Attitudes in Cairo are the attitudes of the south. Not that many in the North don't have shitty attitudes towards Negroes, but at least there is the law mostly on our side."

"That's the beauty of it Mike,"Sean replied. "Our protection business has nothing to do with you or yours except you are a customer. Who can argue with business. Be sure I shall require the good sergeant to provide a favor, when the time is right. Thanks to killer, here," gesturing to Preston, whose face blushed red as his hair.

Cassandra swept in, her petite form seeming to glide over the floor without her feet moving. "Excuse me suhs." she said. And moved to speak in Mike's ear. Sean waited a silent moment, the spoke up. "Miss, uh. . . Cassandra, please call me Sean, I don't like that 'sir' stuff, it makes me think of army officers. Sean saw a black person blush then for the first time in his life. Heretofore invisible, copper colored freckles shone brightly from Cassandra's delicate face. "Don't be frightened or embarrassed. Tell, her Mike. Tell her it is okay!"

"Cassandra," Mike asked gently, "Do you think you could manage to call the boys by their names when you are in private? In front of other white folks, of course, you will still have to call them 'sir' and not slip and make a mistake?"

"Yes, Mr. Mike, I think I can do that." She turned to Preston and now her face was very flushed, lit up with a brilliant smile, her freckles sparkling like pink stars. "What should I call you Suh?"

Preston too was red-faced, stammering. "Uh. . . uh. . . Whyn't ya call me jest plain Prest?"

"All right, jest plain Prest," she teased, mimicking his deep South accent, her ankles crossed, one foot dangling, and her hips swaying softly.

Everyone laughed then. "My god," Sean thought to himself, "she's flirting with him. And he knows it, too. And he likes it, too." Sean felt a tiny twinge of jealousy, but quickly submerged his feelings. After all, he had asked Prest to be with Mandigo and not expected jealousy. Anyway, Prest had never been with a woman. Perhaps he should have that chance, have that option. How else would he ever know? "Hell, he thought, "I haven't tried a woman since Preston either." he shrugged mentally. "She's a pretty fine looking woman, too. I enjoyed it before. I probably still do like women. Why not?" Now that he had accepted Preston as his lover, all his preconceptions about life and sex had been turned around and upside down. Could a guy want to have sex with men and women? Was there a name for that? Was he that? Was Prest? "Man," he said to himself, "life sure can be confusing if you think too much! I guess I'll just have to let things be what they will be."

"Hey Mike," Preston said. "Ah got me an idee." 

"What's that?"

"Does Cassandra work for you or could we hire her?"

"Well she works for me right now, but you can ask her, she is a free person. I pay her a dollar a day."

Preston blushed that Mike would think he would forget something so important as freedom because he was a southerner. "Well we could pay her two dollars, couldn't we Sean?"

Sean merely grinned.

'What do you say, Cassandra?"

"Well," she said shyly, looking down at the floor, but grinning widely. 'I don' know if two dollars is enough?"

"Preston was really into it now, belly shaking with laughter as he spoke. "Okay, three dollars, then. And Ah thank we need ya ta get some pretty clothes. Do ya think y'all could run our office at the protection agency when Sean and me ain't there?"

"Well, jest plain Prest, I think if y'all pay me three dollahs a day I could do jest about anything. I been saving up to buy my mama from down south, but I don't even know if I can find her with the war and all. 'Sides, Mr. Lincoln gonna free the slaves any day now, folks been sayin' And mama knows I am in Kay-ro Illinois and that is North. If she be free, she find me. Lordy," she says, looking up at the ceiling as if to heaven. "Freedom. Real freedom!"

"Aren't you free now, Cassandra," Sean asked?

The shapely mulatto glanced furtively at Mike as if to ask what was safe to say. 

"I think it is safe to trust these boys," Mike said. "But it is your freedom and your life."

Cassandra nodded several times in Mike's direction, giving him tacit permission to tell her story.

"The young lady has papers of manumission which I, er, shall we say, procured for her as I have for a few others. However, if her original owner were to come looking, those papers might, well, receive a bit more scrutiny than we might wish. Do you understand?"

"I get it," Sean said. "Say no more."

Preston spoke up, patting the revolver which was by now constantly on his hip. "Wall, ya jest let me know if he shows up, he an' Ah'll have a little talk and Ah am sure Ah kin convince him ta sell ya free."

"You would do that for me? You don't even know me."

"Ah knows ya well enough girl. Now you mind what Ah says. Any trouble aytall, ya let me know. After all, Ah am in the pertection bizzness," Preston said, once again patting his sidearm.

"Well I guess that settles it, Sean said, you guys go and get her some clothes to work in an office, get set up there and, Cassandra, you can start work tomorrow at ten A.M., if that's all right. I am going out to hire a horse and buggy to go practice my marksmanship."

"That'll be just fine Mr. Sean. And thank you. Thank you so much. Three dollars a day! I am gonna be the richest Negro 'roun' here 'cept for Mr. Mike."

Sean practiced with the sharp's carbine for the rest of the afternoon while Preston and Cassandra went shopping for clothes suitable for her to wear at their office. (The small space in their house set off by a screen.) They also purchased several ledgers to keep track of any and all information that might come her way. They also spent about an hour working out a system for Cassandra to use to keep records, since she and Preston both read and wrote poorly. Preston was sitting on the edge of the table she would use for a desk chatting with Cassandra and flirting a bit when Sean wandered in. 

Sean stopped dead in his tracks, took in what was going on in one look and said. "I am going to wash up, then I am going to the Cairo Inn for a steak and a beer, you coming?"

Prest, a bit embarrassed, looked back and forth between the girl and Sean for a moment then said slowly, as if choosing carefully what he would say, " Uh. . . ah. . . sure, gimme a sec and Ah'll go wit ya. See ya in the mornin' Cassandra."

When the two boys entered the Cairo Inn and took seats at a table, everyone fell silent for a moment. Sean assumed the silence was because of the events earlier in the day, but could not assess whether the atmosphere was positive or negative. They were about half through eating when Pete Larson, owner of the Cairo approached. "Mind if I join you boys for a moment, Larsen asked? Sean nodded and Pete sat, yelling to the bartender, "Jake give these boys a drink on the house." He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "I was very impressed this afternoon with what I saw down at that Nigra's place. Now mind you I don't take with a Negro actin' like white folks and all, but I don't cotton much to slavery neither. 'Specially snatching Negroes off the streets and sellin' 'em. A lot of that goes on around these parts and I say it just ain't right."

Right then Jake arrived with their drinks and Pete Larsen fell silent for a moment. Preston used the pause to inquire : "Not to rush you, but is there a point to this conversation,"

Larsen waited until Jake had returned behind the bar, then spoke. "Every other Saturday night, a group from a certain warehouse comes in with their pay and just about destroys the place. Now don't get me wrong, I like the business and make good money off them. But there are a couple, especially Mason Hart, who go too far. He has shot two people and beaten up a few. He keeps getting' away with it, but I am afraid that he will harm me or my staff. I understand that you two hire out to 'protect' places. And I am askin' ya straight out. Will ya work for me on the days they come in, keep the peace and protect me and my property?"

"We have some questions and some conditions," Sean replied. "First off is price. That will be fifty dollars every other week and ten dollars more each other time you require our services." Larsen started to speak, but Sean held up a hand. "I have a feeling if we pacify Saturdays, this Moose Heart guy will start popping up to challenge us. Also we need to know how far you are willing to go and if the law will support our actions in defense of your place. So you need to let the local law know about out agreement. So far every person who has pulled a gun on my friend here has wound up dead. That means I need you and Jake and your bar girls to support myself and Preston here, to be behind us and back up our story in case force becomes necessary. We are new here and our word won't be as good as the locals."

Once again, Larsen began to speak. Once again, Sean held up a hand. "There is one more thing. As you already know, we do business with persons of all types and colors. We don't give a shit what people believe or what their color is. We work for dollars and provide the same services to everyone who hires us. We won't do anything for one customer that endangers our business with another. So if you have a hassle with another of our customers, white or black, we will do our level and EQUAL best to protect both. If you don't accept these terms, we can't work for you. What do you say?"

"You got yerself a deal!"

"Okay, stop by our office in the morning. Our Secretary, Cassandra, will have papers for you to sign. Make sure you write down the days and times you need us, at least initially. Beyond that, if you need us, send for us. Early next week I will bring in signs for you to post. They will basically say that violence will not be tolerated and that the premises are protected by S&P Protective Services. Word will get around after the first few times, as to just what that means.

"Have another drink on the house and tonight's supper is on me, too. I think it will be a pleasure doing business with you."

With a slight buzz on, the two youngsters sauntered back to their dwelling, feeling well fed and well satisfied with themselves. Sean found himself wishing he could walk hand-in-hand with Preston, but knew that he would be asking for trouble if anyone saw them. He contented himself with planning what he would to and for Prest when they arrived home, and broke into a huge grin.

Once home, Sean wasted no time. Slamming the door firmly closed behind them, he immediately drew Prest tightly into his arms and began to roughly kiss his face, neck and ears. He laid his left hand flat on the front of Prest's finely tailored slacks, feeling his young lover's instant response. His minds eye saw the startlingly white, beautifully sculpted cock rearing up, as if sniffing the air, while his hands were still fumbling with Prest's gun belt, his buttons. When the last of the buttons had been undone, and the weight of the gun belt had borne the slacks to the floor, Prest's cock sprung out as if spring loaded. Sean dropped immediately to his knees and began kissing his lover's penis, by now oozing a fair amount of clear liquid. He kissed and sucked and licked and nibbled as if in adoration to a pagan phallus, a god whose lust must be sated. 

Preston was at first taken aback by the suddenness of Sean's onslaught, but soon entered into the spirit of the action. His hands held Sean's head on both sides, his fingers entwined in the long hair. Before long, Sean was taking Prest's long thin cock deep into his throat, massaging its leaking head with his throat muscles and swallowing over and over while his lips held tight and his lungs sucked. Preston gripped Sean's head tighter, pulling his face toward his thrusting hips, impaling Sean's throat with his iron hard cock. He released one hand from Sean's head and placed it on Sean's throat. This had become one of his favorite things, to feel with his hand his own cock thrusting in and out of Sean's throat.

Sean, head bobbing, began to feel Preston's hard cock throbbing and jerking in his throat and knew that the rebel boys cum was not far off. He sucked hard, reached around and inserted his first finger into Preston's tight pink ass ring, knowing this action would have the desired result. As cum began to fire down his throat, he sucked and sucked at Prest, seemingly sucking one long constant stream of cum for several seconds.

So far untouched but not forgotten, Sean's massive cock was blazing with heat and rock hard, demanding immediate release. He rose from his knees, swept Preston up in his arms and bore him heavily to the bed. Landing atop him and using his own knees to force Prest's Knees up and back, Sean suddenly pierced Prest's tender anal ring with one mighty thrust.

Preston cried out, "Sean! Oh god Sean!" No matter how many times Sean fucked him, he accepted, there would always be pain. There was just no way anything that massive could pierce him and not cause pain. But it was a sharp and deep and soul burning pain that led to the ultimate bliss of complete surrender of body and mind and soul, that brief loss of self transcending anything the gods may have saved for themselves. And now Preston gave himself over completely to the pain and the glory, looking deep in his lover's eyes as his ass was penetrated deeply. The love he saw there, mingled with rabid lust drove him to a frenzy as he thrust his butt up roughly toward Sean's plunging cock, thrashing his head from side to side and pleading to his lover to possess him, to use him, to have him. And now as Sean's cum spattered hot and deep within him, his own blinding release came to him. "Sean Oh Sean!" he cried over and over, the sound of his voice, tiny now with emotion and release, in syncopated rhythm with the sweet wet sounds of Sean's balls slapping against him. Sean! Sean! Sean!

Morning found them still locked together, Sean's long thick sticky cock cemented briefly between their bellies by dried cum. They kissed deeply and almost began anew, but both boys realized that today they were to start their new business, with more than one customer, and that Cassandra, their first employee, would be entering soon. The boys played and grab-assed around affectionately, slapping each others butts with towels and ruffling each others hair and flopping each others cocks as they washed and dressed and made coffee, their love for one another open and free and obvious.

By the time Cassandra's knock came at the door, they were ready to start the day as the two young, well-dressed businessmen they presented to the world. She was pertly dressed in a coppery colored dotted Swiss dress that hovered just above her ankles, but hid none of her womanly charms. Both boys were impressed with the way the copper color complimented her cafe au lait skin and a white bow set off her curly brown hair. Even Sean looked twice before getting her a chair and setting her up for the day.

Preston, however, seemed particularly interested, hovering unnecessarily close as he set up her desk for the day, placing her chair and pencils and ledgers carefully and asking at every turn, "Is dis okay? Is dat aw right?

Cassandra milked the attention from the former 'almost a slave owner', flirting outrageously, sashaying her slim shapely hips and teasing him with, "Jest plain Preston," turning on that indomitable smile so full of promise and heartbreak that only women can display.

Sean was at first amused, but began to get peeved as it went on and on. "Let's go Preston, we have work to do protecting our customers."

"Ah'm comin' Sean, don' get all bent outta shape, A'hm comin'."

Leaving instructions for the signing of paperwork and other chores, the boys headed for the newspaper office, where they were to place an ad for an employee, (after all, there were only the two of them and two places and two sets of people to protect for many hours of each day) and order some posters printed. Mr Calaghan, the owner and editor, also offered to write an article welcoming them and their business into the community and set up an interview for two days hence. After placing the ad:

MEN WANTED

Honest, reliable hardworking men wanted must be skilled with firearms, comfortable with conflict and able to keep a cool head. Apply P & S Protective services, Downtown, Cairo. Drinkers need not apply!

The boys separated, Sean going to L'il Mikes and Preston to the Cairo Inn. Preston, of course, wore his gun belt, Sean rested the Sharps in the crook of his arm.

Later in the day Sean went to the bank to set up a business account under both their names and the company name. A vice President of the bank seemed somewhat interested when Sean described the nature of their business, mentioning some instances when the bank had gold or cash to transport and their usual Pinkerton's were not available. Sean left a business card. Returning home to wash up for lunch, he entered by the back door. He froze in his tracks at the sounds he heard emanating from behind the screen in the front of their "office". There was giggling. And sighs. And soft mewling sounds as of kittens at play. Moving very quietly he crept up and looked around the screen. Cassandra and Preston were locked in an embrace, kissing. One of Preston's hands was roaming across Cassandra's grapefruit sized breasts, the other was under her dress, moving furtively.

Something,a shadow perhaps, moved across the outside of the front window and Sean cried out, "Preston!"

The two youngsters, the half black ex slave and the pure white ex-rebel, jumped apart as if shot, blushing and stammering. "Ah. . . er. . . We was jest."

"Oh hello Mr. Sean. Me and Pres here were uh. . . well, you know."

"I am sorry I yelled there was something. . . someone perhaps. . . out. . . side. And well, listen you two. We can't have this at the office and during work hours. You Cassandra. We aren't going to pay you to have sex. That would be a different business. And one I am sure you do not wish to take up." Cassandra started to speak up, to protest his classification of her, but he held up a hand to silence her. "I am not talking about morality here, but business."

"And you, Prest? What were you thinking? Aside from everything else, she is a black woman and a possible runaway slave. And here you are making love to her in full view of the street. Are you trying to get all three of us lynched? As a southern 'gentlemen' you surely must know that. Sex with blacks must be concealed from 'decent' white society. My god man the door isn't even locked!"

"C'mon man you is jest jelis."

"You know, Prest, it is possible that I am jealous. But that is a subject to be discussed between you and me. In private. What you have or have not done to injure me, is not to be discussed in front of others. But, henceforth, Preston and you, Cassandra. There is to be no display of love, sex affection or anything of the kind during working hours or in public. It is a danger to our business, and our lives. If you wish to be together, go see Mike and get a room, carefully, quietly, discretely. Do I make sense? I know I am not the boss here, but our survival is at stake. If you persist. I shall leave and go perhaps to Chicago. I cannot stay and be constantly looking over my shoulder for a lynch mob."




Brothers in Arms Ch. 05



"Okay, okay, nuff said. We's sorry. We jes wa'nt think was we Cassie?"

"No suh, Mr. Sean, I never thought of that. No way would I endanger you all. I am sorry. You are right. Of course you are right. It won't happen again."

"Look Cassandra. I am sorry, too. I really am. But the two of you scared me more than hurt me. I am almost sure I saw someone watching you outside the window, through the blinds." Inside, Sean's head was reeling with too many things at once. Was he jealous of this girl and Preston? Did he want her for himself or was he afraid his relationship with Preston would end? God, what would he do if that happened? And the fear. When he saw them, saw that shadow at the window, his balls had tightened within their sac in fear. Could the two of them really be so innocent not to realize the danger in their actions?" He had better be extra vigilant from now on. Preston's quick draw an unerring aim could not answer for all eventualities in this racially charged city in these racially charged times.

Sean went directly from that encounter to the local gunsmith to buy the very latest available sidearm for himself. He may not be quick, but he would certainly try not to end up dead. From that day on, he always wore a gun when not at home. As he walked the streets on the way home, delaying the uncomfortable talk with Preston as long as possible, he noticed a fair bit of commotion rising in the town. Most of the noise and confusion seemed to be coming from the negro part of town, whare Mike's was located. The evening newspaper had just come out. The Date was September 22, 1862. President Lincoln had decreed by his powers as Commander in Chief, that all slaves held by States in Opposition to the United States as of January first, 1863, would be hereby and forever freed. Though it did not apply to slaves in Cairo, or in all of Illinois, or in Missouri or Tennessee, Ohio or any neighboring state, the decree was taken by all, black and white, to mean that all slaves would be soon freed. The planned discussion with Preston of the bounds and direction of their relationship would have to wait. He hurried on his way, sure that the services of S&P Protective Services would be required before the sun rose on a new, free day.



Brothers in Arms Ch. 06



Despite Sean's trepidations, all had gone well on that emancipation day. A few rowdies had tried to stir something up against the Negroes, but The police sergeant, Sean and Preston, Larson, yes, and even Li'l Mike, had stood up and calmed every thing down. 

The next afternoon had been set aside to interview potential employees. Eight candidates showed up. Of the candidates, two had shown up with liquor on their breath. Three failed to treat Cassandra with respect, one of whom actually tried to handle her. Sean was afraid Preston would shoot him before he got him out the door. Of the three remaining, it seemed any would do. All three, while not abolitionists, abhorred slavery in all its forms and recognized the Negro's right to be free.

Sean had hoped that some or at least one of the candidates would be like they were, if for no other reason than to know there was someone in the town who understood what they were, what it was like to be like them. When, however, he thought upon it more deeply, he decided perhaps they had done well at concealing the nature of their relationship. He and Prest left it with all three potential employees that S&P hiring depended upon the jobs the company was hired to do. But they expected to expand soon. 

Sean personally favored a particular candidate, Lance Green, but was holding off on commitment because he wanted to be sure he didn't make a decision based on the candidates looks. Lance was 20, short and firmly built, not fat, but very compact and extremely muscular. He was browned as only those can be who have spent long hours in the sun. His biceps looked as if they might split the sleeves of his shirt, his shoulders were broad and tight, his pecs flat and strong. Sean had been slightly amused by the young man's name, musing to himself just what sort of 'lance' he might be equipped with.

Sean was about to close up and end the interviews when he noticed one more man hanging around. "May I help you," Sean asked?

"I think maybe I can help you," the man said, a warm smile gracing his work-worn face.

"Well I was about to leave, but I'll give you a few minutes. What can I do for you Mister, uh?" 

"Neal, Neal Harcroft. But you can just call me Neal."

"Hi." Neal was big. Big and square. He stood at least six foot six and had almost no neck. About thirty-five or so, Sean guessed. His hands were square. His shoulders, arms, legs, head; all had that square look of really large men who are well muscled and not overweight. " Mind if I sit down?"

"Okay Neal have a seat."

"Well, Mr. McFadden, I don't quite know how to put what it is I have to say to you." The big man looked around, lowered his voice. 

"I know how it is, how you are. You and the other young man, Mr. Dalton."

"I am sure I don't know what you mean."

"It's okay sir, really, I mean it." The large man's soft innocent eyes the color of a robin's egg held Sean's eyes for a long moment, as if in an embrace of souls, and his soft melliflu-ous voice, and gentle open demeanor held strong instant appeal for Sean. Glancing around to insure privacy, Neal continued. "If you know what I mean, sir, I am the same way myself. I don't even know why I came to you. Why I am here. And I don't know that I want anything in particular from you or the other young gentleman. I just wanted you to know that you are not alone, the two of you. There are a few more of us around the town. I am happy to know that you are, er. . what you are. . .er, like you are. A man can get to be pretty much alone around these parts if he is like I am, er. like we are. I hope we can be friends. When one is like, like, er, we are, like I am, one doesn't get a chance to have many friends, if you know what I mean. So I just wanted to say if you, the two of you ever need a friend, ever need my help, I would be happy to help not just because of what we have in common, but because I greatly admire the two of you. So young and so, well, you know. And so brave and strong and, and everything. There are a few of us around and while we can't really get together and have an open community, there is a certain amount of very cautious communication among us. I have come across some information that you need to have, so I have risked coming here to tell you." Neal went on to provide Sean with information about the town and some of its residents. It was vital information that Sean needed and he was very grateful.

"I am the town farrier and blacksmith. People think it a bit strange that I am not married, but I am so big, well," chuckling. "They just think I am very shy. Well, I'll be shuffling on home now, Mr. Mcfadden, thanks for talking to me and remember, just call on me if you need a friend."

When the large man stood, Sean stood and reached up to shake his hand. The grip was firm, but gentle for so large and strong a person. Did Sean detect a slight reluctance in the man to let go of his hand. Did he hold onto Sean a tiny moment too long? Sean handed Neal his business card. "Come by the office here in a couple of days and talk to me. There may be something we can do together. I am flattered by your attention and grateful for the information. Come by this office again and we'll talk some more. You know, about 'various business'. Well thank you Neal, and if you mean what I think you mean, there is a possibility we all three could become good friends, very good friends indeed."

*** 

On a warm night, seven days later, after supper and a few beers at Mike's, Sean wended his way home. Entering from the office door, he heard a muffled sound. Whirling quietly and bringing the barrel of his Sharps up, he froze. Soft repetitive mewling sounds came from his bedroom behind the screen. Mingled shadows flickering off the screen by firelight, and muffled passionate voices told him all he needed to know about what was occurring in his bedroom, in his bed. He left quietly and went to Larsen's to drink the night away and did not return until false dawn was breaking and the first rooster cock-a-doodled from the far edge of town. He slinked into his house as if he had something to be ashamed of. The truth was, he had little heart to confront Preston about Cassandra and little business butting into Prest's love life, and had only the boy's best interest at heart. But to have them in his own bed, in their bed, that would not do! That was a hurt and an affront to him. 

Also, having her there, lying with her there, for others to see and know, was too dangerous. Why couldn't the boy go to her place, or to Mike's. How could the rebel boy be so naive, coming from the south and all? Didn't he know, didn't he understand how lethal folks could be? And so he was resolved to have it out with Preston.

Preston was snoring softly on the bed when Sean entered, covers thrown half off his luscious white body, looking every bit the angel, his soft, smooth pink cock lying placidly along his inner thigh. "Wake up! Prest, Wake up! Cumon, wake up!" Shaking his shoulder. "Hey beautiful, Wake up!"

"Huh Wha. . . huh?"

"Come on lover, wake up!"

"Okay, okay, whadya wahn? Okay. Okay. Ah'm awake. What's so important you gotta wake me in da middle of da night?"

"We have to talk about Cassandra. Listen, I'm kinda drunk so be patient about how I might say some things."

"Yah, yah, what about Cassie?"

"You awake?"

"Goddamit Ah'm awake. Ah'm awake. Speak!

"Well, lesh talk a little firsh about you and me. How is that? Are you and me still, uh, you know, together? "

"Wha'd the hell ya mean? Here Ah am. Ah ain't go in nowheres! Whadya mean?"

"Well I didn't know if your being with Cassandra meant you didn't want me anymore or what. You know, I got worried about our relationship when I saw you there with her. In our bed. I mean, you didn't ask me or anything. I think you should have. I mean I asked you about Mandigo, I even included you. Also, I came home to be with you and you and she were in my bed. Our bed. That hurt me. Did you not think of me at all? I mean I sit here and I can smell her, smell the two of you. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"Well, gosh, Sean, Ah mean, Ah din't thank ya'd care one way or t'other. Ah really di'nt. Ah surely dint mean ta hurt ya none. Ah ain't spoilt er nuthin'. Ah am still the same guy. And Sean?"

"Yes Prest?"

"Ah am still all yers Sean. Ain't nobody gonna change that. Ah mean this li'l girl. She ain't nuthin' but lak a piece o' candy er sumthin' comparet ta you. You an' me. Well, shit that is fer real. You was ma firs' Sean. An' yull be ma las' too. When Ah am with you and you are, uh, you know, uh" (Blushing). "when you are uh, taking me. uh. . . with uh. . . that big thang a yers. Well shit Sean, Ah ain't nuthin' ever agin without Ah give maself ta you. You gotta unnerstan' that, donja Sean?" 

Sean was so overwhelmed by this outpouring that he found himself speechless for a time. Finally, he bent slowly and kissed Preston tenderly on the lips, laying his hand softly on his firm belly. "I love you Preston. Don't you ever forget that. I love you. It may seem sometimes like I only take you. But it is so much more than that. If you were to leave me I don't think I could go on. With all that's happened in my life since I walked off that battlefield and found you lying there like some damaged work of art. Just that one look at you changed my life forever. I never knew before that moment that I first nursed you, first washed you, first held you, that I could love anyone so deeply. And the idea that I cold love another man like that. Huh. That never would have occurred to me. 

But wait! There is one more thing I have to say. Actually two more things. First, I find the young woman very attractive, too. If she should ever express the desire, I would love to have all three of us get together. But. And please Prest, listen to me. You have to start being more secret with her. Someone is going to see you together, like that, and be incited to rage. I have been worried about you for weeks. Please, ask her. Find somewhere else where Mike can hide you. If they catch you like that they will kill both of you. Now if you were just her slave master, taking her, using her, that would be different. They all accept rape rather calmly. It's the affection, the caring between you they can't stand, so please, please be more careful." As he spoke, his hands roved over the smooth white body, which slowly began to respond, first yearning gently toward his hand, then squirming more wildly under the probing fingers.

Though quite drunk, Sean was incensed with an inner fire that grew, at least to some degree, from the latent anger he had felt over Preston's seeming infidelity. His hands turned Prest roughly over on his stomach. He laid himself fully out along Prest's tender white body. He was larger, longer, heavier than the younger boy and laid himself heavily upon him. Sean began to nip sharply with his teeth at the back of Preston's neck and shoulders, while his hands on the backs of Prest's arms pinned him tightly to their bed. The sharp impact of his teeth on Preston's tender back caused the young rebel to squirm, his buttocks gyrating wildly against Sean's hardening penis. The more Preston squirmed, the harder the cock became that would eventually pierce him. Its full brown length began to unwrinkle its long loose foreskin, its bulbous head snaking out as if seeking prey, until its full engorged length lay rigid along the sweet crevice between Preston's tender white ass cheeks.

Sean's weight on Preston lessened as his kisses and bites and nibbles moved down his lover's body and increased in intensity. He caught the tiny sensitive hairs at the base of Preston's spine between his teeth and pulled sharply at them, causing Preston to jerk his ass sharply upward against the heavy mass of Sean's cock. He opened his mouth wider and began to gnaw on the muscular globes of Prest's ass, keeping his lover's reaction poised on the brink between pleasure and pain. And now the desire to be taken, entered, pierced, became so overwhelming that the rebel boy began to whimper and beg for the fulfillment he craved. "Oh Sean. Oh, please Sean. Please. Give it to me."

Sean raised up on his knees, but was not so ready to appease, to quickly satisfy, on this night, the night he had found his lover locked in another's embrace. He reached beneath and drew Preston's pale thin cock back under his ass, fingering it, sliding the tight foreskin up and back, and rotating his thumb around and around its pink head. At the same time, Sean moved his hips slowly, sliding the full length of his huge rigid manhood forward and back, its swollen head dripping copious amounts of lubrication between Preston's ass cheeks.

Suddenly Sean stopped all movement. The fat plum-sized head of his pulsing cock sat motionless, poised at the puckered pink entrance to his lover's body. His hands each grasped one of Preston's hip sockets. "You are mine," he declared. "Mine!"

"Yes Sean. Yes! Yours. Please Sean. Please!"

"Please what? What Preston? Say it!"

"Please Sean. Please put it in me."

"Put. What? In. Where? Prest. Tell Me!. What do you want? Say it!"

"Take me Sean. Put your cock in me. In my ass and take me. Fuc. . . AAARGH!"

Just as Prest began to say the word fuck, Sean shoved his hips sharply forward, pulling back sharply on Preston's hips at the same instant. The fat head of Sean's engorged cock popped past Preston's tight anal ring. Sean could see his loose foreskin still gathered outside Preston's ass, nestled in the frizzy pink curls that surrounded Preston's ass hole and now Sean's cock. He bent again over Preston's back, turning his lovers head to fill his face with kisses as he slid the rest of his long long cock slowly deeper and deeper, then drew it out even more slowly, until once again only the fat head remained inside.

Preston tried shoving his ass back against Sean's hips, tried to quicken the pace, but Sean intercepted the thrust with his palms. Slowly, oh so terribly slowly Sean's hefty cock began its long journey back into the depths of Preston's body. Over and over, with a maddeningly unbearable slowness, he sank deep and withdrew again. Again and again he drew out, intensifying and lengthening the agony and the ecstasy, pleasure and pain holding equal sway over his lover's emotions. 

Eventually, Sean began to notice his fat cock's journey to the depths become easier, less encumbered. Glancing down, he clearly saw his lover's ass opening before his onslaught as a bright beautiful red rose opens in the heat of the sun. Immediately he thrust hard and deep and fast a half- dozen times. Next, he began a steady rhythm, pulling out completely, entering and reentering Preston's wide open ass, lancing in, piercing over and over and over.

And now a low keening sound began to emanate from deep in Preston's throat, a wild and primitive sound, older than man, older than love. Its savage sound spurred Sean to new heights of abandon and he began to pound into Preston, hard and deep, his massive cock hard as iron. And now Sean, too, began his song, a low fierce growl from deep within, wild and raw and animal.

Preston became free to move and began to slam his shapely white ass back against Sean's massive thrusts. Sean's hips bounced off the slight plumpness of Preston's ass and rebounded, every other stroke became a double thrust. Beneath the fierce and primal song of their combined voices the staccato rhythm of their bodies drummed, slap, slap-slap against one another, louder and faster on and on.

On and on it went. Hard and long and fierce. The temperature in the small room rose. Their joined bodies were bathed in sweat, dripping. A small puddle of their combined perspiration sloshed back and forth in the hollow of Preston's arched back with each forward thrust and withdrawal. The smell of hot man sex, of sweat and pre-cum and cock and ass filled the room and their nostrils, further inflaming their raw all encompassing need. The bedclothes became sodden and twisted and soaked in their frenzied race to fulfillment.

Finally, in one shattering instant, their bodies, souls, hearts and minds joined in a single tremendous explosion that shook them to their very foundations. They were the finest specie of man and the rawest, wildest of animals, The height of beauty and the depth of depravity, their blended voice the music of angels and the howl of the demon. Their souls soared with the purity of their joining and left this sordid earth behind, yet no act had ever been so much a raw fuck, a vile and filthy rutting.

It took the boys many minutes to return to coherence, and many more before they could speak. Their hands could not stop gently touching one another; their lips could not cease their endless roaming, and each tender touch, each gentle kiss, brought another brief surge to each of them, as tiny aftershocks to a major quake.

"Oh, Preston, Sean said, voice choked with emotion, "I love you and need you so much. That day I saw you lying in that ravine, your leg at such an awful angle, like a snow white angel with red hair and a broken wing. That day started my life. Don't ever end it, don't ever leave me."

"Sean, Sean, why cud Ah . . . How cud Ah ever leave you. Thank 'bout it. Ah ain't never so thor'ly ma-se'f as when Ah surrender ma body, ma-se'f ta you. Ah ain't goin' nowheres. 'Specally without you.

The boys reversed positions and slept spooned together, Preston behind, his soft pink cock nestled in Sean's crack, their sleep interrupted often by soft mini-thrusts, whispered endearments and soft touches.

Both woke refreshed and ready for the new day, but Preston found Sean already gone for the day. Prest rotated back and forth between the two businesses they had so far contracted with, and the office, and stopped at the newspaper office to pick up their new posters with their names and logos in black and gold on stark white. The posters said plainly : This business proteced by S&P Protective Services. Violence will not be tolerated on these premises. Preston posted one outside and several inside Mike's place and the Cairo Inn. He did not see Sean all day.

Preston did however, stop several times at the office and each time, Cassandra clung to him and flirted outrageously with him. There had been three responses to their advertisement for employees, which he set side for he and Sean to go through together. By his third visit he decided to speak firmly 

with Cassie about the importance of keeping everything between them a secret. 

"Lookee here Cassie gal," Prest tried to explain. "We cain't be doin none a this stuff whilst we is at work. An' we gotta be careful, ta touch n' stuff onliest where we cain't be seen.. Damn Gal, you is a Negro! Doncha know what cud happen if'n we was ta be caught bein' well, you know. . . Lak that. There's those out der what would lynch da bof of us. In fac' not so long ago Ah mite ah been one a dem mase'f. Now you find some place fer us ta be tagither before we. . . well, you know, do . . . it. . . again, . . . But you gotta unnerstan' sumthin else, too gal. Me an' Sean is gonna be tagither an' ya'll ain't gonna break us apart, so we ain't gittin' married er none a that. You unnerstan'? Also, you gotta be quiet 'bout me an' Sean bein' you know, lak we are. Cuz folks might not lak thet much either."

"Don't worry, just plain Prest. I care for you too much to put you in any danger. And I certainly am not about to look to marry you. You are a white man. There are laws and I don't need to attract that much attention to myself neither." (Lowering her voice.) "But I sure do crave that so so white body of yours and that long thin white piece of manhood you got there." Grinning, she glanced around to make sure no one was watching and quickly brushed the back of her hand over Preston's cock thru the fabric of his slacks.




Brothers in Arms Ch. 06



Meanwhile, Sean had spent the entire day practicing with his carbine and his new pistol. With the pistol he became somewhat accurate, but gave up trying to be fast and settled for being able to pull it out and hit what he wanted most of the time. With the carbine, however, he practiced and practiced until he could hit a small target very accurately at over 75 yards. He would need that for what he was planning. Who did they think they were that they could do that to him and get away with it? It wasn't going to happen. He would make sure of that. At least one of them would end up dead. Maybe both, probably both. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. But if it had to be, he hoped like hell it would be one, only one. The right one.

He drove slowly back to town in the rented buggy, laying his plans thoughtfully and carefully. He would set himself up on the roof of the hotel. From there he would have a clear view of much of the town, and a short clear shot to the front of their home and office From which he would make sure that Preston emerged at the appropriate time and day. The rest would be easy. Even if it took two shots, he would have plenty of time. And if necessary he could make his getaway down the back of the hotel. Now he just had to pick the right time and day, to convince the two of them to emerge as he required, to act in his best interest rather than their own. It would be tricky, but he thought he could pull it off. Preston would be so vulnerable, so open to attack. He had to do it. They wouldn't listen to him so he had to act. They were forcing his hand. It wasn't his fault. Finally he had it solid. He knew he could make Prest emerge at just the right time and place. He smiled at the simplicity of his plan.

That night was their night to be at Larsen's, the night of the big pay day for mill workers and lumberjacks and longshoremen. The boys had agreed on the importance of their both being there on the first such occurrence. Both were afraid Mason Hart would willfully challenge their authority to keep the peace at the Cairo Inn. Sean had notified the Police Sergeant Campbell that tonight would be their first night at Larsen's and was hoping he could count on the cops cooperation.

The boys arrived early and Pete burned them each a huge steak for supper. Drinks were always on the house for them, but neither boy was drinking tonight. Coffee would have to do. The joint was packed with workers out to blow their hard earned pay on some hard drinking, fine eating and finer women. Many worked loading and unloading supplies for the Union Army, as Cairo was a major 

staging area on the junction of two great rivers. Others worked in logging or in the many lumber mills powered by the rivers and their tributaries. They were hard men, strong and dirty and unschooled. They didn't come to the Cairo Inn for conversation and most did not intend to take away any money when they left. Whiskey ran freely. There were roulette, poker, and dice games. It was a normal occurrence for several fights to break out on any given night, but Pete Larsen was usually able to steer the fights outside before much damage was done to his place. 

A small band played and a female singer in a ruffly dress sang songs the men knew well and wanted to hear. Other scantily and suggestively dressed women worked the floor, obviously their favors were for sale and traffic to the upstairs rooms was heavy. 

The police Sergeant was not in evidence, but neither was he interfering, so Sean figured they had free rein to conduct business.

There was a sudden subtle change in the sound of the place. A kind of cautious attention ran through the rooms and Sean knew that Mason Hart and his crew had arrived. There were eight of them, this time. This group was harder than most; If they wanted a woman, they took her. They drank their booze by the bottle and often remembered nothing of what they had done on any given payday. Much of their fun on any given night consisted of causing pain to someone and any or all of them might beat, stab, or shoot a man for the slightest pretense. Sometimes they might even knock each other unconscious, then rise to drink some more. Everyone said this group had been responsible for several deaths in the past year. Some said it was as many as eight. But no one said it out loud in Mason's presence. He himself had outdrawn and shot two men in the Cairo Inn, one fatally, in the past few months. Twice in the past year the rowdy group had caused more than five hundred dollars in damage to the Cairo Inn, including the destruction of an elaborately crafted framed mirror reportedly brought over all the way from Sweden.

Sean unobtrusively slid the Sharps from its cloth bag, nestling it easily in his lap and Preston unhooked the safety loop from the hammer of his pistol. Mason and his friends approached their table. Jake moved silently and cautiously from behind the bar and several women and men moved away. 

"Well,"Mason said, "So you two are the big 'protectors'. Don't look like much to me. Anyway, we aren't lookin' for any trouble, we just came to have some fun. Ain't that right boys?" A chorus of 'yeah's and 'that's right's answered. 

"Well, in that case," Sean responded. "You won't mind leaving your guns behind the bar with Jake until you leave."

"I think we'll keep our guns," Mason replied. "Someone might try to hurt us." Preston rose slowly to his feet, his gun hand resting on the table. Mason watched Preston's hands. Preston watched Hart's eyes.

The noisy crowded saloon had grown suddenly silent. All eyes watched the scene unfold.

When he had risen fully, Prest held out his hand. 'Mister Mason Hart, Ah presume. Ah am Preston Dalton and this here is ma patner, Sean Mc Fadden. We have been employed by da owner a dis here establishment to keep da peace and protect propety. Now Ah know ahll y'all gentlemen jus wanna have a li'l fun. Ya won need yer guns fer dat, so why don' ya coperate and jes meander on over and 

give 'em to Jake. He'll make sure ya'll gets 'em back afore ya leave." 

Hart ignored the outstretched hand. Leaning toward Preston, he issued a challenge. "Why don't we just see if you are fast enough to make me."

Before he could finish the sentence, the end of Preston's gun barrel was pressed firmly against his nose. Mason's eyes got large and Prest could see a short flash of fear in them before they hardened once again. His men started to move for their weapon's, but Preston shouted "Don't! If anyone draws, this gent'eman's nose is gonna be ahll ova dat wall over yonder." To emphasize Preston's point, Sean slid the carbine from his lap and laid it on the table. 

Cautiously Sean rose, reaching out and slipping Hart's gun from its holster and laying it on the table. Now gentlemen, if you would all be so kind, unbuckle your gun belts and lay them here on the table," gesturing with the rifle. "Jake, come over, its okay now. Come and pick up these weapons and give these gentlemen a slip to redeem them when they leave. And Jake, give each of these gentlemen a drink on me. Welcome to the Cairo Inn, gentlemen. Enjoy yourself. Thank you for your cooperation in making the Cairo Inn a safe place to enjoy."

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, though Hart and his boys kept up a loud mocking of Sean and Preston, hoping they could provoke something and challenging their manhood when they could not. As Sean had counted upon, once the initial challenge had passed the rowdy workers were far more interested in liquor and women than in risking their lives for a point. About midnight when the crowd had died down and most of Hart's men were passed out or upstairs, Preston approached Sean.

"Kin you handle things okay from here on out? If it's awrite, Ah'm goin' over ta Mike's ta see what's goin on over dere." When Sean responded in the affirmative, Prest continued, "Ah'll see ya later." 

"Oh, Preston," Sean said loudly enough for everyone to hear, including Mason Hart who sat weaving drunkly on his chair across the room, "Don't forget about breakfast at The Depot at ten in the morning. I will be up and about before you, so don't forget, ten A.M. Sharp. It's important, don't be late! And don't forget to bring Cassandra along, I promised to buy her breakfast as well, remember?"

"Okay Partner, ten o'clock. Ah'll be there. You can count on me."

Sean sat for a time in the rapidly emptying bar as they cleaned up and closed down for the night. Jake returned Hart's gun belt and the asshole tottered out the door. Sean called out,"I'll have a drink now Jake. Just one, so make it a good one. Some of that good French brandy please. When Jake brought the drink, Sean surreptitiously palmed him a two dollar gold piece. "Good job tonight Jake. You kept your cool. You are a good man to have around in a pinch and I appreciate your support. I suspect, though, that we have not seen nor heard the last from Mr. Hart."

"Thank you Mr. McFadden. And you are right. Hart's type is always around, always trying to make trouble. I would watch my back if I were the two of you. He didn't take too kindly to being made a fool of, especially by Preston. From the look of Mr. Dalton you wouldn't think he was so dangerous, but he really is handy with a gun. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so fast." Laughing, "I'd give a five dollar gold piece to see that look on Hart's face again, with that gun barrel against his nose. I don't think he believed Preston was so fast until he experienced it for himself. Anyway you have a good night. And thank you for makin' my job easier. 

Sean arrived to find their home empty and dark. He wasn't sure that he was going to be able to handle many nights like this. But what was he to do? He had hoped that he would have had the comfort of Prest's body one more time before the fateful work of the coming day, but it was apparently not to be. Well, it wasn't his fault. He would dearly miss Preston's small tight body enfolded in his. A moment of red-hot anger flashed through him. But then his rational mind reassumed control. Before tucking in for the night, he sat at the desk in the office part of their home and ran through the plans for the following morning. He had told Preston at least three times, stressed the importance of timeliness. He was sure Prest would show up, would be emerging from the front of this very house at ten this morning. He had rechecked his access to his spot on the hotel roof. His rifle was zeroed in perfectly. Every thing was planned, set up perfectly. He could not fail, dared not fail. And after tomorrow, then they would know, then every one would know, that he was not a man to be trifled with. If things didn't go as planned, if they wanted to stop him, arrest him, well, he had plans for that too. His alternate plan was set up with Li'l Mike, who would help him escape north on the route of the underground railroad.

He fell asleep with his hand wrapped around his hefty cock. He slept soundly, even though he dreamed of perfect white bodies and large square hands touching him, and little mulatto girls weeping beneath him.

In the morning, Preston was lying beside him snoring lightly and smelling of the rose water Cassandra was so fond of wearing, but he slipped out of bed without waking the boy, washed and slipped out of the house, carrying his carbine and wearing his belt with his new revolver. He went to the Cairo Inn for coffee and ham and eggs, then worked his way slowly, checking carefully so as not to be seen, climbed the makeshift ladder he had fashioned at the rear of the Two Rivers Hotel and took up his position across from where Preston would emerge. This early, he would have time to relax and smoke an undetected cigar. He settled in place and waited. He had nothing to do for nearly an hour. This was going to be so sweet, so just. They had it coming. He could not stop grinning and hoped it would not affect his aim. He hated having to act as judge, jury and executioner, hated violence, but he could see no other way it could be done. And it had to be done. Even for his own safety, it had to be done!

After a while, he saw Cassandra arrive for work. That was as planned. He had made sure that Preston was taking her to breakfast. At Ten sharp they would emerge. He waited. He slid the nose of the carbine out onto its resting place, firm and secure to allow for maximum accuracy. He drew his pistol and laid it next to him on the roof. He would not trust himself to draw it quickly if he needed it. He was not a gun fighter like some people. He would have it ready if he should need it.

He waited. After a bit he saw the young Negress enter the office. He could see, just barely, the forms of the two of them moving inside. Their shadows moved toward the door. They were coming out. His finger slid to the trigger. 

end of chapter 6



Brothers in Arms Ch. 07



Preston and Casandra chatted cheerfully with one another as they moved to the front door of the combination home and office. Prest's attention was drawn to a sudden movement across the street. He moved quickly, using a broad sweep of his arm to push Cassandra behind him. 

Mason Hart and one of his sidekicks stood about 25 feet away, their legs in a wide, 'I dare you' stance, arms slightly bent, hands dangling near their holstered guns.

"Let de girl go, Hart. She ain't in dis."

"On the contrary, nigger lover. I am happy to see your nigger bitch is here, too. Maybe she'll get hit by a stray bullet. If she don't, I am gonna grab her and sell her down to Mississippi."

"You are makin' a big mistake, Hart. And you, what's yer name? Joe? You ready ta die today, Joe? Fer Him?

"You are the one makin' the mistake, rebel boy. By noon they are gonna bury you under the stars and bars."

"Stay behind me," Preston whispered to Cassandra, turning his head partly to address her. While Prest's head was still partly turned away, Hart went for his gun. 

Crack! The sharp sound of a rifle shot echoed down the mostly empty street. All three men turned their heads toward the sound, but Hart and his cohort continued to draw. A body tumbled from the roof of the nearby bank, slamming heavily onto the dirt street in a cloud of dust.

Hart, gun now in hand turned his gaze back to Preston, but he was way too late. A bullet pierced his throat. In reflex, his left hand rose to his neck. Blood gushed between his fingers, his knees crumpled and his pistol fired harmlessly into the ground. Beside him, his hapless companion spun in a half circle like a dancer in an intricate ballet, clutched his shoulder and fell, moaning loudly.

Preston, pistol at the ready, scanned the street, the entrance to a nearby alley, and all the rooftops, checking for additional threats. As his gaze passed the Two Rivers Hotel, Sean stood and waved to him, yelling loudly so the would be no mistake. "Hey Preston!"

People now began to emerge from he bank, the hotel and other businesses. The street began to fill with the curious. Preston moved to the two men lying in the street. Hart was gurgling out what was obviously his last breath, trying desperately to mouth the words "Nigger lover". Joe Danson, Hart's cohort lay in the dirt, holding his shoulder and moaning. Preston kicked Danson's revolver away, then knelt. "It's yer lucky day, Joe. You been given a great gif'. Yer alive. And Ah thank yer gonna make 

it. But Ah don' thank ya'll be a very fast draw with that arm no more. Maybe ya otta thank 'bout livin' a laf o' peace from here on out"

Standing, he called out. "Someone get a doctor. And the police. Somebody call a doctor and the cops." Near the bank, another body lay slumped in the settling morning dust, a pistol still clasped in his lifeless hand. Anyone looking at this inert form knew that no doctor would be needed.

By now, Sean had descended from his rooftop perch and stood with Preston. Cassandra moved from the porch to stand beside him. By the Time Sergeant Campbell arrived, the three of them stood in the street, one on each side of her, shoulders touching lightly. None was pleased at the death that had been wrought, but all three smiled softly in relief at their own deliverance. Sean's eyes constantly scanned the crowd for further danger. Nearby, Neal the blacksmith stood attentively watching the two boys, a knowing smile on his lips. 

"Mr. Dalton and Mr. Mcfadden, would you please come with me," Sergeant Campbell said. "And for the time being I am going to have to ask you to surrender your weapons. Patrolman Grimes, Patrolman Smith, please take statements from any and all persons here who are witnesses to the events which have just occurred."

"One moment please sergeant," Sean asked, gesturing to Neal. The large man came over to Sean and leaned in. Sean whispered. "Mr. Harcroft. Would you please see to it that this young lady remains safe until we return?" Then turning to Cassie. "Cassandra, please go to the office as usual. We will be there after a short time. I still owe you breakfast. Okay Sergeant, lead the way."

Late that afternoon, the boys sat in Li'l Mikes book-filled office, sipping bandy and smoking very good cigars. Mike was explaining in some detail a job he had for the boys' company. Much of the day had been spent at police headquarters answering queries about the events of the morning. The police had finally adjudged the incident of the morning to have been self-defense. The boys had been released and their weapons returned. Sergeant Campbell had warned Sean, though, not so gently, that his role was very close to 'lying in wait' and he could certainly have arrested him on murder charges, but then, Hart's henchman had also been 'lying in wait'. In future, the sergeant suggested, Sean should involve the police should he know of a planned attack on his or anyone's person. Sean explained that 'this being Cairo' the racial aspect to the planned attack, had made it difficult for him to determine whom to trust. The sergeant warned the boys again. "This is a time of war and Major Cunningham is in charge here. Be careful he doesn't come to view the two of you as a 'military matter' or as any kind of problem to him. He will lock you up in a moment or worse yet sign you up and send you south. I am only letting this pass and not referring it to the major because Preston here saved my life. Also you boys may notice I have not asked why you two are not already in the army. But it is a question that will be asked if you attract too much attention. There are many soldiers and sailors in this town and word of today's violence is sure to get back to the major. To any inquiry I will respond that I have the situation well in hand and under control. I cannot control what the major decides. If he decides to investigate, to get involved, there will be nothing I can do. However, if I find out that he is interested and is going to take action, I will let you know as soon as I can. That's as fair as I can be."

"It sartanly is," Preston said, reaching to shake the sergeant's hand. "Thank ye so much and thank yer poleece chief too. We rally 'preciate all ya have done fer us."

"That goes double for me. Sergeant," Sean added. "And do e sure to let us know if there is anything, anything at all, we can do for you. If you get into the Cairo Inn, supper and drinks are on us! It's the least we can do for all you have done for us." 

"Are you trying to bribe an officer of the law," Sergeant Campbell replied jocularly?

"Should we try," Sean said, only half joking. 

The only response to the half-joking comment being silence, Sean let it go. Rising, he once again shook the sergeant's hand and the boys left.

"One more thing," the sergeant said." There will have to be an official inquiry,but I wouldn't worry too much about it. So far the witnesses have upheld your part of the story. I am pretty sure that there will be no indictment and the two of you will be judged to have acted in self-defense. But boys, lay low on the Niggra thing,folks are startin' to talk and some around here are pretty violent in their opinions. The last thing I want around here is more violence. Take care now."

Later, after the boys had been well fed, washed and had turned in for the night, Preston finally felt comfortable talking about the morning. As was their wont, the boys softly caressed each other as they conversed. In their situation, sense and safety required that they refrain from close contact all day every day. They missed the intimacy of their months together on the road and treasured every moment once they were alone together, never missing a chance to touch and kiss.

"If'n you knew they was gonna 'tack me, why in hell, din't ya tell me 'bout them guys," Preton asked? "Ah cudda been prepared ta meet 'em?"

"Well, Prest, I know you. If you had known that Hart and his men were going to attack you. You wouldn't have gone out in the street. You would have avoided a show-down, a gun fight. And we would still have at least three guys out there stalking us with guns. They could have attacked any time and any place. This way. I controlled the whole situation. Mr. Harcroft, Neal, had filled me in on what Hart was planning, so I made sure Hart would know where and when you and Cassandra would be. I didn't really use the two of you for bait. They would have attacked you anyway. And when I got up on that roof, sure enough, there was a guy up on the bank with a gun. What I didn't know, what I should have assumed was that hart would bring two men. I would have assumed that one rifle in hiding was enough, but I guess I should have known how huge a coward he was. Anyway, you were pretty damned impressive, shooting both of them."

Neither had any idea what the ultimate form of their lovemaking would be on that night, their relationship was still a work of art in the making, a subtle wrestling match of the bodies and wills, always sure to provide maximum stimulation to them both.

"You know danged well thet Ah never cudda shot bof of 'em if you hadn' shot first and distracted them."

"Well maybe so, but with all those witnesses to your prowess, It will probably help our business increase."

"P'raps, but you know, we prob'ly lost the b'iness of the Cairo Inn, now dat Hart has been eliminated.

Their discussion of the morning's events forgotten for the time being in the heat of their growing desires, their soft caresses became focused now on their two penises, one huge,dark and fat lying along Sean's thigh, the other long, thin, white and smooth, jutting up proudly along Preston's belly. As usual, Sean took the lead, turning his body head to toe to his lover and lapping along his cock like a dog. Preston responded by grasping Sean's cock with both hands and inserting it's fat dark head fully in his mouth, pushing the meaty foreskin back with his lips and laving the head with his tongue.

Sean, in response held Preston's foreskin back very tightly so his tender pink cock lips bulged and spread, then began flicking his tongue quickly, inserting its tip into the tiny pee hole. Preston began to suck heavily on Sean's cock head while swirling his tongue around the flaired corona, then covered his tongue with Sean's dark, heavy wrinkled foreskin. Licking around inside. Sean began laughing. "hey Prest, I just got a great idea, turn around here I want to try something. 

The two boys' cocks bumped together as they turned to face each other, one shorter, but still long and slender, smooth and very pink and white, the other massive, brown and wrinkled. Sean took Preston's cock in his hand and placed its pink head against his own, then drew his own foreskin back as far as he could, then slid it forward. Sean's foreskin was so loose and wrinkled that he was able to enclose nearly all of Preston's penis within its warm wet confines, even as rock hard as it was becoming. Preston found this 'docking' immensely exciting. He loved Sean's sense of inventiveness and his playful approach to their sex life. Holding their cocks bound together in his hand, Sean began to kiss Preston's face. Soft fluttery kisses covered Preston's eyes, his ears, his nose and cheeks and lips.

Tender, not quite painful nips covered his neck, the tender spot under his chin, his underarms. Finally their mouths sought one another hungrily. Their tongues flashed and swirled and curled around each other.

Sliding his hand carefully forward and back, Sean was able to masturbate both of their cocks within his hot moist foreskin. The more he jerked them together, cock heads touching, tiny cock lips kissing, the more those lips oozed fluid onto and into one another, until pre-cum dripped from their joined cocks onto the bed below.

Finally, it was Preston that broke away, turning once again to bury his face n Sean's cock and balls. He sucked each of Sean's balls into his mouth, sliding them around inside his mouth like a couple of large olives, licked and sucked at his scrotum. The smell of Sean's taint, that soft, extra delicate spot between balls and ass, was rich and seamy and inspired Preston to new levels of excitement. Preston began to wildly suck and nibble and lick at the entire area, balls, taint, the solid base of Sean's cock, and his firm well rounded ass cheeks. As he sucked and licked and nibbled, his saliva and Sean's cock juice ran down the crack of Sean's ass. Taking the situation at an advantage, Preston lubricated his fingers, inserting them slowly and carefully into Sean's anus, first one, then two. When the second joint of the two fingers popped into Sean's ass, Sean cried out, "Oh!" in surprise and a bit of pain.

Continuing to manipulate and stimulate Sean's rectum, Preston bent and turned and wriggled his fingers inside Sean, but now he took Sean's massive cock into his mouth and throat. He had learned from much practice to adjust his throat and breathe thru his nose so he hardly ever choked anymore when taking in Sean's cock. Even so, he could accommodate only about half of the now iron hard member as he slurped and tongued and slid his mouth on and around it.

For a few minutes, Sean did nothing but revel in the actions of his lover, taking in the sensations in his cock and balls and anus, floating in an other world of pure sensation. Soonthough, he was brought back to reality by the hard insistent pressure of Preston's rigid cock dragging around his face, poking and prodding his eyes and ears and neck and leaving silky slimy trails of cock scent wherever it passed. As Preston's cock passed over his face, he opened his mouth wide and the steely rod plopped in. He closed his lips firmly and worked his tongue wildly around the engorged member. Preston responded immediately moving his hips sharply up then fucking down into Sean's mouth and deep into his throat. Sean lapped and licked and sucked hard on the plunging cock, swallowing over and over, massaging the invading presence with the muscles of his throat and the base of his tongue.

After several minutes of fucking Sean's throat, Preston felt himself on the verge of cumming. Delicious as the thought was of pumping his hot sperm down Sean's throat, he had other ideas for the remainder of this night. Sean moaned a desolate cry of want and loss as Preston pulled his fingers from his ass and slid the cock from his mouth. Moving quickly, Preston manipulated their bodies so that they were face to face, used his knees to lever up Sean's legs, used his arms to hook Sean's legs back, raising his dark firm ass slightly off the bed, and, with only a momentary pause, forced his hard hot wet manhood thru Sean's tight brown anal ring, now wet and wild and wide open from manual manipula-tion. 

The lovers locked eyes as only lovers can, uniting their souls across the distance between them. Though Sean remained soundless, his eyes spoke volumes to Preston. "Yes," they seemed to say. "Take me! My ass, my cock, my body, my soul, my life, my love belong to you. Use me! Take me! Love me!" Sean moved his hips sharply up toward Preston's invading member urging him on to longer stronger deeper thrusts.

Preston released Sean's legs. His hands cupped Sean's muscled ass cheeks, lifting and turning and manipulating as he thrust into his lover. Though he had no knowledge of anatomy, by now he had fucked Sean enough times to know there was a secret place deep within. If he could find that place, fuck that place, he could induce thunderous orgasms in his partner, compelling him to release a flood of cum. He wriggled and varied his stroke and distance, taking total charge of the lovemaking. He knew he had struck the mystic spot when Sean's voice made that certain plaintive sound. He forced Sean to repeat the noise by ramming his granite hard cock against that secret place over and over. 

Through it all the two lovers eyes remain locked on one another, never straying, never changing, holding, holding, silent but charged with the strongest communication, speaking loudly of the joy and peace and love and intimacy neither had known anywhere or from anyone else in their short lives. Their looks, their love, bound them together as no chains could ever hold a captive. Sean's eyes said, "yes, give yourself, your love, your cock to me." And Preston's eyes replied, "Yes, yes, here, here I am, here it is! Take my cock! Take my love!"

As Sean's cries grew louder and louder, they inspired Prest to strike harder. He lengthened his strokes so that each back stroke drew him totally out of Sean, then reentered the wide open blood red hole that welcomed him in, sucking and grasping at each fevered thrust.

Without anyone touching it, Sean's huge cock began to spew copious amounts of cum as it circled and bounced around wildly from Preston's fevered fucking, wetting both their thighs and bellies and legs. Preston drove deep, holding Sean's ass cheeks tight against his body and remaining motionless as he too began to shoot his seed deep inside Sean's rectum.

Release came to them simultaneously in a thunderous communal conflagration that threatened to consume them both. And yet their eyes did not close. Each could read the loss of self, the joining, the surrender, the love in the others eyes. It came upon them hard, pounding, pounding, pounding.

Pounding. . . . pounding. "Shit!" Someone was at the door. Prest, still in the throes of orgasm, pulled out of Sean so quickly that there was a distinct popping sound. Sean emitted a moan of terrible loss as Prest left him, but also came suddenly awake. They dashed around, trying to cover the evidence of their love making. Sean, the first of them to find his voice cried out. "Okay! Okay! We're coming."

Both boys had that sinking hollow sensation that comes to one's gut when suddenly disturbed in the wee hours of the morning. Nothing good could come of this pre-dawn awakening. There was trouble, evil, in the air. The smell of hot sex hung in the air like a heavy fog, but that could not be helped. Sean did not bother with a shirt, but picked up the carbine as he headed for the door. The pounding continued so he called again. "I am coming damn it. Hold on, be right there."

He waited another few seconds until Preston was fully dressed and had his gun belt on, gun drawn, then moved quickly to the door.

Li'l Mike's harried form came fully into view as the door swung open. "It's Cassandra. It's Cassandra. You have to help!" His dark face was a light shade of gray, just as a white person's face might be whiter from stress and shock.

"Wait, wait, what's Cassandra, what's wrong. Take it easy. Spit it out," Preston implored.

Mike gasped loudly, then went on. "She's gone. They've taken her. Taken her away!"

Sean drew up three chairs, went for a bottle and poured them all a stiff drink. "Now sit, sit right here and tell us everything. Be quick, but don't leave out anything. What has happened?"

Mike's hand trembled as he downed the hot liquor in one gulp, grimacing before going on. "I am pretty sure she has only been gone about one hour. Josiah, that's her, well, the man she lives with, saw her not long ago. But he heard her scream once, he said, a horrible screeching sound. When he responded, ran down the hall she was gone. He looked out the window he said and saw men riding away with a struggling form over one of their saddles. He was too afraid of lynching, or that they would take him too, but he came quickly to me as soon as he felt they were gone, I assessed the situation, dressed and got over here as fast as I could."

"Who were they? Where were they going? What can we do?" Preston broke in.

"Slavers, must be. Has to be. Even with the proclamation coming on January first and most southern slaves thinking themselves free and following the union army troops. But in places like Texas, even places out west. Slave owners are running, taking their slaves with them. A young, strong, and I hate to say it, pretty Negress like Cassie, hell she could sell for as much as twelve hundred dollars, maybe even more."




Brothers in Arms Ch. 07



"I only hope that, whoever they are, they are too interested in getting away fast to, er, uh, use her for themselves."

"Sheet this is our fau't, our responsibility, Sean," Preston said. "We are 'posed to be protectin' her an' everyone at Mike's."

"Well, we can't work all day every day, and we are still trying to hire people. Don't beat yourself up too hard, let's just see what can be done now."

"Well, whoever they are, they won't take the river, Mike said. They be too conspicuous on a boat, so they must be traveling on horseback. They have probably a good hour head start, but Cassie is probably fighting them, inhibiting them some. I can probably do nothing. Even with all my fat, I am still a Negro, and could be caught, killed and no one would care, just another nigger. You guys will have to go. And you'll have to go right away. Our guys would not want to be on the Kentucky, Tennessee side of the river, too many Union soldiers, but on the Missouri side they could travel unhampered. That's the side they'll be on. They probably also don't suspect that they will be followed, so that would be an advantage."

"Okay, okay, Sean said. "Hold on. First thing we want to talk to this Josiah, then I want to talk to the bartender over at the Cairo Inn, see if he noticed anyone who could be our guys, or heard anything suspicious, then I want to ask around a few other people. See if we can find out anything before we just jump out there. Preston, you get us some stuff together for travel. Go over to the general store wake Mr, Hampton if you have to, give him a half eagle, then pack us up a couple of packs."

"Mike, we are gonna need some ready cash for the trip, for hiring horses and stuff. Go to the Depot and get together everyone you can. Someone might have heard or seen something. Then I am going to want to see the place where they took her and the place where Josiah saw them on their horses. Let's do it all quickly and meet at the depot in one hour. Mike. Can you get a message to the riverboat captain that he will have two more passengers who will pay well to travel as fast as possible?"

"The riverboat Endeavor is docked and ready to leave in about half an hour. I figure you could take the boat down river about a hundred miles, figure out where our guys are going and wait for them to show up. After that it would be up to you, They could probably go about 100 miles before having to stop, but at night in the dark it would be very dangerous. Even the, horses would be good for only about 100 miles a day, then they'd have to rest or have fresh horses. On the river, you could get ahead of them and work back. Of course that would leave Cassie in their hands for several days. Your only other alternative would be to try to find out where they are camped out for the night."



Brothers in Arms Ch. 08



Sean had begged Preston to stay behind to keep the business going, But Preston would have none of it. He had gone from being too poor to own a slave in a 'country' where slaves and land were the only things of value, to helping and harboring and even being intimate with a runaway slave. He had changed from a supporter of slave ownership. Now he had killed a man for trying to return a slave to his rightful owner. Actually he had killed the man to save his own life, but he knew he would have to. During all of the first years of his life he had never met a slave, he had seen slaves, seen them bought and sold, seen them worked, even whipped, but in truth, only from the outside looking in. Now he had met two slaves, known two Negroes as people, and his life was very different. He would save Cassandra from slavery, from the slavers, or die trying.

For Sean's part, he cared for all of them, for every long lost puppy and everyone who had ever been harmed. It was in his nature. Also, this was business. The person kidnapped had been under his protection. As Prest had so clearly pointed out, this was their fault. So it was his duty, his responsibility to rescue the girl and punish those who had violated his protection.

What the two boys had not expected was to have so any allies in their undertaking. When they arrived at dockside preparing to board the Endeavor, on which Mike had purchased two tickets, they found Neal Harcroft there, prepared to travel with them. Neal was quick to introduce the man who accompanied him. "Preston, Sean, this is Washington Jefferson, a very good friend of mine. He is willing to help us right this terrible wrong. I have known Mr. Jefferson most of my life and we have lived together for the past ten years. Washington is a writer and painter and helps me out in the livery sometimes. He has also selected eight very fine horses for us. Four are already on board and four more are waiting down river, all arranged by telegraph."

"Well Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Harcroft," Preston said. "We are happy to have you with us and grateful for your help and especially for the horses."

"I am happy to be of service. By the way, you may as well laugh about my name, everyone else does. It seems my parents were great patriots, though I barely knew them. They were killed in a carriage accident when I was four. Call me Jeff, okay. That's what my friends call me. The other alternative was 'Wash' and what kind of a name is that? Anyway, the two of you have made a great impression on Neal, and if Neal likes you, then so do I. I lived in an orphanage until I was sixteen. It was not a great place to be for someone like me. Finally I ran away. Life was pretty grim for a few years after that until I met Neal. My hero, my life and my love. Shall we go on board? Since we all will have nothing to do for some time, I will buy everyone a drink in the lounge as soon as everyone is settled in. We need a plan."

"Well," Sean said, after a few drinks, "Neal, tell us how the two of you met." Neal glanced over at Jeff, asking for permission with his eyes. Washington nodded his assent and Neal began. "Well, I had taken the train up to Chicago, looking to buy some horses. I figured in a big market like that I would be able to find what I wanted at a fair price. Well, anyway I was stayin' at a good hotel there and I left in the evening to go get some supper at a good steak house I had heard about. On the way back I ran into Jeff, and he was, well. . ."

Jeff broke in to finish for Neal. "I was living a miserable existence there in Chicago. I had no skills and no training, there was nothing I knew how to do but write beautiful poetry. When was the last time you bought any of that? Anyway, I was starvin'. So I took to the streets. First I started begging, that didn't work out too well. Then I started letting men pick me up. Before long, I was selling myself for a few bucks and a soft place to lay my head and a decent meal. Neal had just finished dinner but he took me right back there, shabby as I was. I ate so much I almost got sick. Oh he took me back to his hotel room that night, but he wouldn't touch me. He made me take a bath and threw my clothes in the garbage. Bought me all new clothes. I spent the night, but still Neal would not touch me. He was and still is the nicest, sweetest person I have ever met in my life. After that I would not leave him. Took me two weeks before, you know, he would, you know, do, anything. 

"We-ell how old are ya," Prest asked.

"Oh, I turned eighteen during that first week with Neal. That was part of the reason Neal wouldn't have nothing to do with me. I was so thin and scruffy, Neal told me later that he thought I was only about fifteen 'til I told him different. Neal said he never even thought of me 'that way', thought he was rescuing a child. Anyway I made him love me and we been together ever since, that was over ten years ago."

Sean broke in. "So you were a, a prostitute? I never heard of a man prostitute, even in New York.

"Well, perhaps you have been lucky to have met Preston so young," Neal said. "For many of us, folks like us, finding someone to be with, to, er, love can be very difficult."

"Well ya know," Prest said, "Sean 'n' Ah, neider of us ever knewd, even guessed we was, ya know, jezz, he'p me out here, is dere a name for dis? What we is? Ah ain't even so sure Ah am, ya know, thet way, 'cept maybe with Sean."

Sean broke into the conversation, "I have been with girls, too, never guessed I might, like, that is, to, uh, be with guys, until I met Preston here and he was so beautiful I could scarcely keep my hands off him after a while. What we have, what we have become to each other, just sort of happened."

"That's funny," Jeff said. I knew I was this way from the very beginning. Even when I was four or five I knew I wasn't like the other boys."

"Yeah, that's pretty much the way it was with me, too," Neal said. "Until I got old enough to move away from home, set things up where I could keep things private like, I got beat up all the time, even worse than that some times."

"Whadya mean," Prest asked? Whadya mean werse?"

"He means he was raped," Sean put in.

"But dat don' make no sense," Preston said, "how would dey rape him unless dey was dat way, too?"

"There are many men out there," Neal went on, "who don't see themselves as the kind of a person who has sex with other men, but when they are the aggressor, the rapist, they can still see that as masculine."

"Thet jes sounds lak pure evil ta me," Prest said.

"Preston." Jeff said, "I read in this book that over there in England there is a doctor. He thinks what I, er, what we've got is some kind of disease. He gave us a name. He calls us homosexuals. It means from homo in Latin that means man or in Greek it means 'the same', so you see it kinda means we have sex with the same sex. I read up on it a little because I was trying to find out, you know, about people like me, find out who, what I was. One of the things I found out is that there are girls like us, too. Also I found out that there have always been homosexuals. Way back in Egypt and Rome And Greece, even among the Indians. Only it seems all those societies have treated our kind of people better than ours treats us."

"So far we have had no trouble," Preston said.

"Is that right," Jeff answered, "I heard you have already killed several men. I have lived Twenty-eight years and have never killed anyone. Are you sure they all had nothing to do with your being 'homosexual'?"

"Ah nevah even considered it. Mos'ly they jes' start drawin' or shootin' afor I gets a chance to ask what its all 'bout."

Sean broke into the conversation to announce that he was going to their stateroom to take a nap, since they might be working well into the night. "Me too," said Neal, "I'll walk that way with you."

Once there was just the two of them, Jeff moved over to sit next to instead of across from Preston. The physical tension between the two was both obvious and unavoidable. The two young men talked for a long time, until they noticed the time was drawing near when they would arrive at New Madrid. As they spoke, neither could resist the temptation to touch one another lightly on the shoulder or hand or knee. Jeff brought up that between Cairo and New Madrid, they would cross from Kentucky into Tennessee and back into Kentucky twice each. At one point they would not even be across the river from Missouri, that Tennessee would be on one side and Kentucky the other and that when they arrived at New Madrid the river would be flowing directly north. "One more thing," Jeff pointed out, "The folks there don't like it if you fuck up. Just like Cairo is pronounced Kay-ro, New Madrid is pronounced New Mad-rid."

"When we land at new Madrid, we should be almost a full day ahead of our kidnappers. What we will do is Check all the roads and byways going south from Cairo on the Missouri side, scatter some money around and find out if anyone has seen anything. If that doesn't turn up anything, we will just have to scout out the roads one by one, maybe even split up. If that happens I want to be with you. I am not very good with a gun and I know you are."

"How do we know they won't cross into Tennessee or Kentucky, those are both states friendly to the South? They could maybe make it to Mississippi from there."

"Both states may be friendly to the Rebs, uh, excuse the expression, but they are crawling with Union troops. And now that emancipation is coming, there will be thousands of Negroes crowding around all the federal troops heading north to what they think will be freedom. The kidnappers won't risk going that way. But in Missouri, it's already a non-slave state, the feds are there, but have just about got things under control, so they will be less vigilant. They can travel and pretend she is their slave until they get south. There is no law against having slaves there and the edict in the warring states doesn't take effect for three months yet. There are not as many Union troops down this far. All in all they are going to have trouble. That's how we think they'll leave a trail, they will be looking for those friendly to their cause. I hate to tell you this, but they are probably traveling very slowly, because they are probably using her for their own pleasure, thinking that they'll get their troubles worth if they can't reward her or sell her. It is hard to say what the likes of them might do. I am just telling you because I know you care for the young Negress."

"How did ya know, er, jeez ain't nothin' private no more?"

"Well, there is a certain community in Cairo, if you know what I mean, and when we saw the two of you come to town, big and open and young and pretty as all get out, living together and everything, well you created quite a splash. Every one of us noticed and word gets around. Then there is the Negro community. You think they didn't notice the two of you, working for Li'l Mike and all, right in front of all the Negro haters. In those two communities, at least, the two of you are heroes." "Well, shee-it Ah ain't never tried ta be no he-ro er nuthin'. Ah jes' shot me a few folks what was tryin' ta shoot me. Tha's all. Af'er dat fust time on da trail, Ah jes' decided Ah better learn ta shoot good er Ah was gonna be dade. Ah mean Ah knew how ta shoot from huntin' back home and all, but Ah never done shot a pistol and never tried ta draw fas'. Ah had ta learn quick if Ah was gonna live."

"Well rumor has it that you learned well and fast. I would not be surprised if many young punks trying to earn a name for themselves didn't come looking for you."

Oh great, jes' what Ah need is fer more folks tryin' ta shoot me."

"We don't always determine our own destiny, just like I didn't choose to be so damn attracted to you. Don't you get tired of being so beautiful? It ought to be against the law."

As they spoke they walked around the deck, enjoying the sights around the river. The paddle wheeler had slowed down to a crawl to navigate the two sharp 180 degree turns. After the second they would be at New Madrid. The river was heavy with traffic, both war time and not. A steady stream of paddle boats and flat boats headed south filled to the brim with Yankee reinforcements and equipment. And Empty barges and steamboats pulled steadily up stream to reload at Cairo. Rumor was that the entire Mississippi would soon be in Yankee control and then, no matter how long it took to invade the east, the end would be near for the Confederacy. They could see as they passed, the tremendous damage that had been done at island # 7 just a few months earlier by three days of Yankee bombard-ment before they had finally surrendered. Only minutes before they were to land, they were both excited by catching a glimpse of one of the new ironclads steaming south, bristling with gun turrets, looking low and evil like a predator to be reckoned with.

The two went below and rapped on their stateroom doors to alert the other two that they were nearly there. All four went to the horses then, saddling them and adding saddle bags and bedrolls and provisions for traveling so that when the boat landed they would be ready to go.

Sean, the city boy, was the least used to traveling by horseback, but Preston also had not traveled by horse since before the war. Both would pay with sore butts and backs if they had to go far.

They began by checking with Neal's friend and fellow livery owner in New Madrid. There they checked on the extra horses and also asked if anyone had rented horses. That no one had was a good sign. Before nightfall they were on the road, checking at farmhouses, taverns and inns for any sign of the kidnappers. They learned that there were only three passable routes south from New Madrid that were not swampy or under water. Sean came up with the idea of using brush to clear one path so they could tell if anyone had passed, then they split into two teams to explore the remaining trails, resolving to return to the first if they found nothing. Sean and Neal took the most probable route and Jeff and Prest were to take the other. All four were to meet back at the embarkation point at ten P.M. to report any results, no matter what they found. No one was to take individual action.

Jeff and Preston came upon two separate groups of Yankee cavalry on the run, but neither paid much attention to the two young travelers. It appeared that the cavalry were bent on some mission of major importance. They also ran into a group of Jayhawkers, but they gave them wide berth. They rode as far as they could and still return by ten, having found no trace of the kidnappers. Along the way, though they talked and talked and talked, their mutual homosexuality forming a bond of friendship stronger than one would assume for two people who had so recently met.

Back at the rendezvous, that had to wait only about 20 minutes before Sean and Neal rode into view. Though the moon had been full up to then, it was setting. Utter blackness was descending. The four decided to set up a limited camp, with a shaded fire, to avoid the possibility of being spotted by the wrong people. They set up camp quickly, had a limited supper of hardtack and jerky. They used Sean and Prescott's old shelter from their war dodging days. Jeff volunteered to keep the first watch, but Prest offered to keep it with him. They would watch until two A.M. Then Sean and Neal would replace them. Each team would watch four hours and sleep four hours. They would be up at dawn to intercept anyone coming down either of the two trails. Early in the morning, one team would check to see if anyone had traversed the third road.

Once the moon set, darkness came quickly. If not for the faint glow from the fire, the blackness would have been total. Preston and Jeff sat back to back at first to lend support and give them two-way coverage. So how come you aren't in the war?" Pres asked Jeff.

Jeff started to laugh. "I didn't want any part in any of it. Although I believed in emancipation, in the abolition of slavery, I did not see how my getting killed would further that cause. So I kissed the sergeant who came to enlist us. He busted my lip with his fist, but I wound up not having to go. How about you? How come you aren't off somewhere getting your ass shot off?"

"AH were a stupid li'l boy," Prest said. " Ah thot Ah believed in slav'ry. At least Ah said Ah did. But now a course Ah realize Ah never really thot about it. Well, anyway, Ah went off in gloree to whop the Yankees an' tol' my ma Ah'd be home by Christmas. Ah thought Ah knowed what all Ah were fightin' fer. The honor of the South an' de raht to keep our slaves, though, I din't own none, an' the glory and honor of ma state en all that she-it! But den when da musket balls started flyin' Ah din't know she-it 'cept Ah din't wan ta dah fer no reason Ah cud thank of. Any how, I got ma musket broke and got knocked out beefer Ah cud do anythin'. If'n Sean hadn't a wandered along, Ah'd be long ded afore now. He found me in thisere crick bed with ma ankle all stove in, picked me raht up and carried me inta dis cave he had found. Took care o me 'til Ah was better, then we lit out across da land and here we is. Der's a lot more ta tell, a course, but tha's enuf fer now."

"Wait a minute what do you mean that's enough for now? How did the two of you end up being lovers, I mean, from what I understand, neither of you was, or at least thought you were, uh, you know, before that. So how did that happen?"

"Ah ain't at ahll sure Ah kin answer dat. At leas' part of it was ma fascination with dat huge piece ah meat he carries around all day. Ah cudn't keep my eyes off'n it. Ah tried ta deny Ah was 'tracted ta it, but Sean wudn't let me. Also, 'n maybe dis is da mos' importan' thang, Sean was allees tellin' me how Ah was so beautiful 'n ahll. He was lak stone in luv wit' me. How cud Ah he'p but lak him too? Ah don' thank Ah knows ya well enuff ta tell ya eny more den dat." 

"I sincerely hope that we will get to know each other a lot better."

Prest looked at the older man with the obvious question in his eyes, but Jeff only smiled in response. 

*** *** ***

In the shelter, meanwhile, Neal and Sean were getting acquainted in a similar fashion, the excitement of their quest making sleep allusive. "So how did you and Prescot get together," Neal asked.

"It's a long story," Sean replied, "but the gist of it is that I sort of rescued him. I found him lyin' in a river bed with a broken ankle and dragged him into a cave. We are both deserters, basically, him from the Rebs, me from the Yankees. I never had, well, neither of us had ever, well, uh, you know, been with a man, and Prest had never had sex with anyone. And it was partly our circumstances, being together all the time for months, sleeping together and all. But also there is just something about him, I don't know, but the moment I first saw him lyin' there in that gully, looking like a dirty fallen angel, he just took my breath away and captured my heart forever. After that, well the other part, it just sort of seemed to come naturally."

"So are the two of you, er. . . ah. . . How do I say this? Are you, hmm, exclusive?"

"Why do you ask? You want him don't you?"

Neal began to laugh, holding his hand over his mouth to suppress the noise. "He is beautiful, isn't he? But no, it isn't him I am attracted to. Don't get me wrong, I love Jeff dearly and plan to stay with him my whole life if he'll have me that long. But I am not the type to be satisfied with one person only. Neither is Jeff. We have each been with others, you know, that way, but have still managed to stay together. But our ability to find others to be with is very limited, as you may well understand."

"So you are attracted to me instead of Prest? That doesn't make sense."




Brothers in Arms Ch. 08



"What doesn't make sense about it. You are attractive, accomplished, intelligent, much younger than I. You have started a successful business, are admired by all the good people I know and hated by all the bastards I know. And you are hung like a horse. Anything else you want to know?"

"I am extremely flattered. I also have been with one other person, but that was , well,huh huh, that was with Prest. So I ....."

"Woah, hold on, with Prest, you mean three people?"

"Well, yeah, it just sort of happened. I mean we didn't. . ."

'It's okay, I am not scandalized, but jealous. I have had dreams like that, but never, Oh my!"

"For tonight, let's just try to get some sleep. We might need to have our wits about us tomorrow."

As the two rolled over and snuggled in to rest, Neal laid his arm across Sean's shoulders tentatively and Sean responded by placing his arm over Neal's waist. Soon they were both snoring gently, tucked together like spoons.

At their lookout, Prest and Jeff had said little for several hours. Nonetheless, the budding friendship between them continued to grow. As the time for their watch to end drew near, Jeff suddenly spoke. "So Preston, can I ask you another personal question?"

"Sure, why not?"

"About you and the Negro girl. What's going on there? I thought you, you know, liked men. And, and how is it that a rebel like you can, you know. And her, a freed slave girl?"

"Ah'll never understan' it ma self. der is jus' dis attraction dere Ah kaint 'splain. As fer the Niggra part of it, well, evah since Ah met dis one slave on Sean's en ma travels, well ma outlook kind er changed. When Ah ran ma han's over the scars he had on his back from being whipped. Ah mean Ah knowed about dat, about da whippin', Ah had actually seen it from afar off, ya know, but somehow, dat night, close up en all, seein' the scars, well, it changed me. En also, seein' the kind of folks what are all 'vovled in slavin' en huntin' down slaves, Ah mean Ah were raised ta be able ta tell dey is the lowest kind a trash." 

"Den when ya talk 'bout Cassie, well she-it. Neegro or not,she is jes' 'bout da sweetes' gentles' thang Ah ever did see!"

"What I was really asking, Prest, was about her being a woman. How does that fit with you having, er, whatever it is you have with Sean?"

"Damned if'n Ah know. One smart man I once met he said he wer a , lemee thank, am-by-sexual. Mebee das what Ah am, but Ah don' know. Ah still don' know ifn Ah lak boys, 'cept fer Sean."

"But you love him? And you have to like, er love what you do together, you know what I mean?"

"Well, yeah, Ah reckon Ah does, but Ah also don' think dat's all der is."

"So, let me ask what I have been trying to get around to. Do you , er, I mean, are you? Oh shit! Do you and Sean, see, that is, be with, other people, or just you two?"

"Why are ya askin' me? Ya got sumthin' else ta ask?"

"Well. . . I have never, well that is except for customers a long time ago, (Jeff blushed hotly) and they don't count, I have never been with anyone but Neal and I thought maybe, well. . . When this is all over if , well, maybe. . . You and me, or maybe even Me and Sean could, well, you know what I mean?"

"Boy howdee, ya do have a way a takin' a long way round ta askin' a question. Ain't yer paw ever taught you ta jes' ask a straight out lak? Oh crap Ah am so soree, Jeff, I fergot."

"That's okay. It isn't the first time I suffered from not having a mom and dad."

"Ah'll tell you what, Jeff. After this thang is ovah, How 'bout all four of us get together fer supper er sumthin' and we'll see what comes aroun'. Kay?"

Raht now it's tame ta wake up Neal an Sean an fer us ta go ta bed!"

As the walked toward the shelter, taking care with their footing in the near total darkness, Prest did not hear Jeff murmur under his breath, "Don't I wish it was together?"

Several hours later, Prest was awakened by a soft shake of his shoulder. The dim false dawn filtering grayly through the improvised shelter allowed him to identify Neal as the one who was waking him. Too late he realized that he had thrown off the blanket in the warm Missouri autumn night. While Neal was not exactly staring, his eyes told Preston that he was very interested in the pale naked form stretched out before him and the semi-erect state of his penis.

Sean had fanned the embers of the previous night's fire and the coffee was already boiling. Prest helped himself to a cup, while still clad only in trousers and suspenders. Within minutes Jeff joined them by the fire. Neal wandered over, cup of strong joe in hand and the four began discussing the day's plan. They assumed their prey was already in motion, for, with the day of emancipation drawing ever nearer, the slavers would undoubtedly be moving south as rapidly as possible. That meant that the four had to somehow make the right decision or they might lose their targets. As usual, it was Sean that came up with the plan. "About three quarters of a mile from here, toward the river," Sean announced, "there is a high ridge that runs almost straight north and south. Parts of all three roads should be visible from up there at one time or another. On this hand drawn map here," Sean went on, "I have assigned each road a number. For simplicity I have started with one for the westernmost, two for the middle and three for the easternmost road. What we need is someone up there with this spyglass, who can keep an eye on all three and somehow signal to the rest of us which road our kidnappers are on. That way we don't have to split up and can respond as a team. Even the fourth, whoever that is, will only be a mile at most from the rest of us. I don't think Preston should be on the ridge, because he can handle himself best with a gun. I also am not too bad with my sharp's carbine. That leaves the two of you, Neal and Jeff. I'll let the two of you decide. Then we need a method by which to signal."

"I'll go," Jeff volunteered. "Um. I could have three small fires ready, the it could be one fire for the west road, two for the middle and so on."

"I don't know," Neal put in. "What if it rains or one fire goes out, there could be pandemonium."

"Gunshots, one, two, three?" Prest suggested.

"I wonder if gunshots would warn them?" Sean asked.

Neal said, "Lots of shootin' going on these days, with the war and all, and the shots would be pretty far away from them, maybe not."

"Okay," Sean decided for everyone, "gun shots it will be. Now let's get to a place where we can see the top of that ridge."

"One problem," Jeff said, "I don't own a gun."

"You have a gun, don't you, Neal, Sean inquired.

"Yeah, but just the one rifle."

"It's okay, I have a handgun you can use. Sean unbuckled his gun belt and handed it over to Jeff as they rode. You at least know how to work it right?"

"I am not a complete innocent," Jeff replied.

As the ridge loomed into sight, Sean finalized the plan. "Jeff, you get the best horse. After you signal, get your ass moving and catch up with us. We will move as slow as we can. If you hear any confrontation, or any shooting, don't come running up and get your ass shot off. Let's do this without anyone getting hurt. If anything goes wrong, if we get separated, anything at all, everyone goes back to the smithy where the spare horses are. Any questions? Okay, get moving Jeff and good luck!"

As do all seeming adventures, this one entailed a long period of doing nothing and so it was as the three waited and watched for a signal from the fourth. They quickly ran out of topics of conversation and sat quietly and nervously waiting for the coming action which could prove fatal to any or all of them. In the idle time, Prest began to think of the way Neal had looked at him that morning. Like he and Sean, Neal seemed to lack any sense of morality when it came to sex. Preston wondered if being, what was it Jeff had said they were called, homo, sumthin' er other, automatically meant you were more likely to have looser ideas about sex. Neal was so much older, like an old man. Prest wondered if maybe he knew things, had done things that were still unknown to him. He wondered if he was like Sean or like him. Was this division that he and Sean had the same for all, homo. . . hom. . .homo sexual couples? Where one seemed to be the sort of giver and the other the receiver? An image sprung to his mind of Neal kneeling behind him and he began to wonder what Neal's penis might look like. His face blushed as red as the hair that now hung to his shoulders.

Neal spoke. "You all right Preston?"

"Yeah, uh. . . Why woun't Ah be?"

"Well you seemed kind of flushed."

"Nah, Ah jes got a bit hot, tha's all."

Suddenly three shots rang out in the distance, echoing down the long expanse of the Mississippi valley.

"Well, that's it," Sean said, "let's get moving."

They began to cut cross country to intercept the route of the eastern trail, moving quickly enough to access the trail ahead of the kidnappers, but not so quickly as to lose Jeff. It was a delicate thing and Sean decided that it was more important to find the road ahead of their prey than to lag behind for Jeff. They kept space between them and moved as quietly as they could. It was important they not be discovered. After about one hour of travel, they found their route and turned North, looking for a good spot to ambush the kidnappers and stalling a bit to give Jeff an opportunity to catch up.

About twenty minutes later, Jeff came dashing into view behind them. Sean held up his hand so everyone waited for Jeff to catch up. "Well done Jeff!" Sean said. "Are you sure it was our guys?"

"I'm sure. I used the field glass you provided. I saw her clearly. She was giving them a hell of a time, fighting and pulling every step. They weren't treating her very well. Using a riding crop to try to keep her in line."

"What?" Preston yelled.

"Not now, Prest," Sean said, his jaws set in anger. "Quiet for now. Sense for now. Anger and perhaps vengeance later. Let's ride on, we don't want to meet them accidentally."

About 2 miles farther along, they came to a narrowing of the highway, between large old groves of sweet gum trees, heavily hung with garlands of Spanish moss. "Okay", Sean said, "this is our spot. We'll split up. Jeff and I will move down about fifty yards. Prest and Neal, you conceal yourselves here. Jeff and I will move a little ahead. Nobody moves, nobody acts until I give the signal. No killing unless absolutely necessary. Our main objective here is to rescue the girl. If they grab her they could out maneuver us just by holding her hostage. I am hoping she will be tied, on foot and behind them. If that's the case I'll try to grab her first thing. If not, the person closest to her grabs her first, gets her to safety before any shooting begins. We need her safe first. Okay we will have a rifle and a pistol at each end. In any case I won't do anything until they are all well past me and between us. Everybody clear. Don't just start shootin' or you'll hit one of us. Jeff says he thinks there may be only three of them, but we don't know that for sure. That's why we have to make sure the last one is past Jeff and me before we do anything. We don't need to be surprised by an unknown."

"Okay take your places, they must be getting very close by now."

The four disappeared into the woods as arranged. Just before they all settled in, Neal shouted a warning. "Don't snuggle in the Spanish moss, its full of chiggers." In moments all was still save the whistling of a black and white mockingbird high in a tree. The air was redolent with the minty, turpentine smell of sweet gum and the wet, earthy smell of the hanging moss. Time seemed to drag on interminably. In only minutes of stillness, the mosquitoes began the work of trying to suck the blood from the four. It was nearly impossible to stay still with the hoards of mosquitoes, gnats, and blackflies swirling around their faces so thickly that it was impossible not to inhale them. They turned up their collars and hunkered down inside their shirts and tried desperately to control the nickering of the horses. Their prey was not so quiet in their movements and the four heard them coming from afar. It was easier then to remain still and quiet.

They sat horses, but moved languidly. They looked dog dirty and desperate and dangerous as bothered bears. They moved slowly but not cautiously, their stride said they were arrogant beyond all need for security. The first went by Jeff so closely that he could have tapped him on the shoulder. There were three of them. The first was obviously the leader. He was followed by a small evil looking man whose smell Jeff could detect even above that of the horses and who lead Cassandra by a rope around her waist. Her hands were tied behind her and she stumbled along and nearly fell at each step as they dragged her cruelly along. Her face was covered with bruises and dried blood adorned the corner of her mouth. She was followed by the third kidnapper, a tall thin string bean type with a coon skin cap who jabbered continually as they went along. "An' I says ta her, honey, if'n ya don' lak the smelly ol' thang, why you keep comin' back fer more and she says: 'it's the money honey, did you think it were yer good looks?' har har har. An' dishere li'l thang, even tho she be a niggra, I bleve i'se gwan tap me a bit o that this ev'nen. You here dat ya pretty lil thang? Y'all get ready fer another big hunk o' what meat. Har har har."

Preston could barely control the impulse to step out and gun down all three of them. Just drop them in their tracks. His gun hand quivered near his holster.

The second man went by Jeff, the rope trailed by. Jeff stepped out one step, grabbed the rope and pulled the girl toward the bushes. He had hoped that the outlaw would be startled and drop the rope, but it was apparently tied to the man's saddle. Jeff got her more or less to the bushes, but both fell to the ground when the horse stood on its hind legs and whinnied. The last horseman began firing immediately and Sean, only two feet away, blew him off is horse. The lead rider turned and began to fire. Preston stepped out of the bushes and felled both remaining kidnappers. 

The scene devolved into total pandemonium. Horses bolted every which way in confusion, kicking and whinnying loudly. The middle horse ran, dragging Cassandra along behind. Jeff, too was dragged because he refused to release the rope. Preston jumped in front of the racing horse, but was knocked down. Neal managed to momentarily stop the horse by rapping it sharply on the nose. In the few seconds that earned him, Jeff pulled out his knife and cut the lead. "I did it," he shouted, then tumbled by the road side, unconscious and bleeding from a wound low on his left side.

Sean, too had been hit. A trail of blood ran down the side of his face from a long ugly crease just above his temple about five inches long from front to back. All three kidnappers were dead. The one Sean had shot had a huge gaping hole in his innards, the two others had small round holes in their foreheads. Neal and Sean rushed to Jeff's side. Preston knelt by Cassandra who lay unconscious and limp.

Sometime later, after they had gathered all the horses and moved off to a wider spot where they could set up a temporary campsite and tend their wounds, Sean surveyed the results of their activities. Jeff would survive. Though the bullet had grazed his hip bone and was therefore extremely painful, it had apparently not struck any major organs or arteries. Cassandra had bruises all over her body, only some of which were caused by being dragged by the horse, but luckily nothing was broken. Her demeanor seemed unusually depressed for someone recently rescued, but Sean surmised without asking, that she had suffered great abuse at the hands of the desperadoes. He thought they had probably raped her. His own wound was superficial, but hurt like blazes.

They had gained three horses, which would become Neal and Jeff's property. The kidnappers had had forty-seven dollars and change in their pockets. Plus various guns and knives and gear. The question of the day was, could they keep any of it? How would they handle the situation? Sean guessed they would have to take the bodies of the dead kidnappers back to New Madrid. That meant turning them over to the Union Army there. They could not trust that a local lawman might not be sympathetic to the cause of the slavers. He wasn't at all sure that he wanted to meet with a federal officer who might question why he was not in the army himself. Neal and Jeff were locals and known in Cairo and New Madrid. Prescot was obviously a southerner. The four, now five, decided to rest up and head back to New Madrid in the morning. Between now and then they had to get their story straight. Perhaps he could merely fade away and let the four of them pretend he never existed.

"You all right," Neal asked, ambling up and laying his hand on Sean's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine. How are the others?"

"Cassandra and Preston are together, Jeff is sleeping soundly. I had some whiskey in my pack and I fed him the whole thing."

"Your hands are shaking. You really love him don't you?"

"More than my own soul. I swear before I found that boy my life was a dead end. I thought I was doomed to a life of traveling around looking for others like me to, er, you know, to be with. He brought youth and joy and life and yes, love into my life." 

The tears started then. Obviously he had held them back until this moment, kept his feelings in check until he had handled everything and Sean felt honored and privileged that Neal trusted him enough to share his tears.

"I was so scared, am still so scared. Jeff could still die. We have to get that bullet out of him, get him to a doctor," Neal sobbed.

That was all Sean could bear. He turned and folded Neal into his arms, which barely went around the huge man. "Easy, easy, Neal," Sean murmured as he patted Neal's back. "He ain't gonna die. He's gonna be fine We're all gonna be fine. I promise you."

The older man slumped in Sean's arms, weeping uncontrollable. Sean whispered encouraging words and held Neal tighter and tighter. Soon both men became aware that their bodies sought more than consolation As Neal's tears subsided, he became aware of a large presence, pressing insistently against his own groin. "My god, he said to himself, "Is that all him?" His own penis began to respond, growing tumescent in spite of his worry and grief. 

"I'm sorry," Sean said, noticing the other man's response and pulling away. "I don't know what's got into me at a time like this"

Neal responded by puling Sean back into his arms. "Oh Don't be sorry, Sean. Don't ever be sorry for that, not for that." He hooked his index finger under Sean's chin and lifted the younger man's face to him, laying his lips softly on Sean's, whispering, "Hold me Sean, just hold me."

The two men stood then, face to face and body to body, worry about those they loved united them. But in their deep concern for each other, in the consolation they sought in one another, there was need. And in their need for oneness, for joining, for comfort, there was also heat. Each man reacted by pulling the other closer. Their hands patted and caressed each others backs comfortingly, but their fronts, their groins, rubbed hard against each other. Sean was the first to react, reaching between their bodies to lay the flat of his hand on Neal's hardening manhood. Neal sighed deeply in response and laid his head on Sean's shoulder. Sean, not willing to remove his hand, asked softly, "Is this okay?"

"I. . . I. . . don't know. . . yes. . . maybe. . . I. . . yes."

"I am not so sure either," Sean said. "Let's just sit together and talk."

*** *** ***

Preston was so filled with anger and hatred it seemed he would never breathe again. He held Cassandra in his arms and murmured to her that everything would be fine. Her fine cafe au lait skin was covered with bruises. She would not show him all her wounds, but he could tell by the dried blood down the inside and back of her thighs that the miscreants had done much more than beat and drag her. His rage made him wish he were not so good a shot. His mind dwelt for a few seconds on what he might do to them if any had remained alive. He shuddered.




Brothers in Arms Ch. 08



Cassie clung to him as if she would crawl inside him. Even though Prest was a small person himself, the negro girl seemed like a tiny wounded animal curled up in his arms. He had heated some water by the fire and now gently wiped her face and neck and hands with a piece of warm wet rag. Prest would have liked to have undressed her and softly washed all the signs of her abuse from her body, cleansed her of all trace of the miscreants, but she would not release her hold upon his neck. He thought back to his earlier life and was filled with shame at the attitudes he used to have toward Negro women. He remembered the crude jokes he had shared with boyhood friends, the ideas he used to hold that these people were less than animals, to be held as property, used as any white man desired. He remembered the many ugly raised scars on Mandigo's back and marveled that he had ever been in a frame of mind where such things were not only accepted as normal, but encouraged. That Cassandra was a beautiful human being was highlighted by the kidnappers desire to abase her. Mandigo had taught him to think of Negroes as people, but Cassandra had taught him of their grace and beauty as a people. Preston swore a gentleman's oath to himself at that moment. He would support and defend these people's quest for equality for the rest of his life; he would challenge anyone who threatened the life or liberty of these gentle loving people. As Cassie dozed off in his arms, tears wet the cheeks of Preston Dalton, former soldier in the Army of the Confederate States of America.

Soon the little campsite was still. The silence was complete save for the whoo, whoo-whoo of an eared owl somewhere off in the black of night. Jeff slept somewhat fitfully, groaning often as he tried to find a comfortable position in which to sleep. Cassandra lay curled in the safety of Preston's arms, curled like a tiny wounded brown kitten. Preston himself snored softly and held her tight as if afraid to lose her again.

Sean woke to find Neal's body close behind his as they slept, like a magnet slipping inexorably toward one of opposite charge. Completing the attraction, he smuggled back against Neal's huge muscled form. Though asleep, the older man responded by throwing one hugely muscled arm around Sean's waist, its weight nearly pinning them together. Sean was sleeping naked as usual, but the blacksmith's cock had somehow wormed its way through the double flap of his long johns to push strongly against Sean's buttocks. Neal moaned and wriggled his hips forward, his penis insinuating itself in Sean's crack. Sean, deciding to challenge how far the encounter would go, crossed his right knee over the left, widening the space between his cheeks and the availability of access.

Neal woke slowly and silently. It took him a moment or two to assess the situation. Then, placing his big smithy's hands on Sean's hips, he levered himself up on his left knee, rotated his own hips to the right, and slipped his cock head easily past Sean's tight anal ring. Sean began to cry out, but Neal covered his mouth with one of his big rough hands and held him tight as he pushed hard and drilled the rest of his cock into Sean's rectum. Neal's left arm was under Sean, his huge left hand restraining Sean's head and covering his mouth. His right arm now held Sean's thighs from the front and his giant right hand closed over Sean's massive cock. Holding both tight, Neal drove hard and fast and mercilessly up into Sean, over and over, seeking only his own release, perhaps because he was only now coming awake, perhaps seeking an immediate and sudden receptacle for his pent up, boiling anger. Neal was not gentle, was not caring, did not seek to please his new friend, but drove relentlessly up into Sean hard and fast until release came shuddering through him. He spent himself deep inside Sean's struggling body.

Nonetheless, the forward thrusting against Sean's ass and Neal's tight grip on his penis caused Neal's fist to masturbate Sean, much as he would himself, until he also exploded onto the bedding below and all over Neal's hand. Sean began to speak, but the older man, still holding mouth and cock, whispered harshly, "Shush, Go back to sleep!"

Falling asleep after orgasm was normally easy for Sean, but this night his troubled mind sought to understand what had just transpired. Neal's large rough hands still held him tightly, almost as if he were captive. Though Neal had acted roughly and inconsiderately, though he had acted wholly without Sean's feelings in mind, Sean had found it not entirely unpleasant. Even now, still restrained he felt not uncomfortable as much as unfulfilled. He had only begun to experience a new sensations, a kind of joy of being contained, confined. In the past, whether giving or receiving, Sean had always thought of himself as in charge, in control. But now, Sean had experienced a new and thrilling sense of turning over control to another. And then, just as he had began to welcome this new thrill, before he could adapt to and embrace this new pleasure, it was over. And yet...something. . . something remained. Something deep inside him had been touched, a window or door opened, but just a crack, then slammed shut again, before he could gain sight of what had come so close to moving him profoundly.



Brothers in Arms Ch. 09



But now, Sean had experienced a new and thrilling sense of turning over control to another. And then, just as he had began to welcome this new thrill, before he could adapt to and embrace this new pleasure, it was over. And yet...something. . . something remained. Something deep inside him had been touched, a window or door had opened, a mere crack, then slammed shut again, before he could gain sight of what had come so close to moving him profoundly. 

*

The next morning, Thursday, came early. Preston was awakened even before false dawn by Jeff's soft moaning, as the pain from his wound assailed him. Preston's , movements necessarily woke Cassandra who still lay nestled in his arms. As those two moved to assist Jeff, Neal and Sean woke abruptly and hustled to clothe themselves appropriately, this done, they moved outside to prepare the bodies of the kidnappers for transport to Fort Thompson. Working in the dim light presaging dawn, surrounded by the squawks, whistles and chirps of hundreds of birds, they used an ax found among the slavers' possessions to quickly fashion a travois on which to transport Jeff. They threw the bodies of the kidnappers over their saddles, face down, covered each with a blanket and tied their hands together under the bellies of their horses to prevent their falling off. 

Reluctantly, Preston left the battered Cassie to attend to Jeff, fashioned a quick fire and made coffee, beans, hardtack, and fatback, so everyone could eat quickly and be on their way. In less than ninety minutes they set out for the trip to Fort Thompson, about five miles. 

They moved as quickly as they could without causing Jeff more injury. Cassie insisted on walking next to Jeff, who she regarded as her hero, so Preston walked beside her and led the five riderless horses. About a half mile from the fort, Sean left the group, fearing he would be arrested or impressed into service should he set foot in the fort. "I will go into New Madrid," Sean told them all, "find your friend, Barnes, the smithy, and wait there for you. If anything happens, any problems, send a message to Barnes."

As Sean rode off to the south for the fifteen or so miles to New Madrid, he could not help but replay the events of the previous day and night in his mind. He thought he had planned and acted well, especially using untrained and unskilled men. Hell, he was untrained himself. Damn though, he hoped Jeff was going to be okay. He felt good about having rescued the girl, even if she was a little worse for wear. That was his fault, too. What made him think he could run a protective agency. He couldn't even protect his own men. He could see that if he were to stay in business, there would have to be some changes. Like training, recruitment, better planning. That would mean a lower profit level, but we have been living too high anyway. He smiled. Despite everything he continued to think of himself and Preston as a couple. That was good! He was also pretty sure Prest felt the same, despite the girl, even despite Jeff and Neal. 

As his thoughts turned to Neal, he relived for a moment, the frantic coupling of the previous night. He understood that the violent intensity of the act had helped cleanse Neal of his guilt and grief beyond what a simple orgasm would accomplish. But he did not feel as if he had been used by Neal. In fact, he felt that Neal had opened him to a whole new world of thought and feeling. His own involvement, his own reaction, intrigued him. That one simple act of turning his hip to open himself to Neal, that tiny moment of yielding himself to another without thinking, seemed to him of vast importance. "Preston has spoken to me about deriving great pleasure from giving himself to me," he thought, "but I have always thought of myself as the one being yielded to." Prest had penetrated him, fucked him several times, of course, and the act had always brought him to orgasm, but his union with Neal had held something else. He sincerely wished Neal's penetration had gone on longer, perhaps he would know more about this strange new desire.

Sean's deep thinking came to an abrupt end as he entered the town of New Madrid. The town was a stark contrast to the quiet woods. Union soldiers were everywhere, like a blue river running beside the muddy river. Some were marching or patrolling, some were off duty and carousing. Some were embarking on or disembarking from steamboats. Women of the streets openly displayed their wares. Steamboat whistles filled the air. Docks were busy loading and unloading all sorts of cargo: livestock; soldiers, horses and cannons; bales of dirty cotton. Horses and wagons and men and women of all sorts crowded the dusty streets. Smoke from steamer's stacks and open fires grayed the air. He turned right at the first cross street, away from the wharves and headed toward the livery where he sincerely hoped to find Barnes.

*** *** ***

At Fort Thompson the little group had caused quite a stir. A sergeant at the gate had at first refused them admittance, but Neal kept insisting he see the commander at once. Finally they were handed over to a young lieutenant, who, like all young lieutenants, immediately passed the buck to his Superior, a Captain Johnson. The captain demanded a full explanation about four times. Finally Cassandra stepped up to speak to him. "Sah, mister cap'n. Dese here men done rescued me from dem other mens who was tryin ta steal me down ta Missi'ppi and sell me as a slave, suh. And Mister Jeff dere he done got shot tryin' ta rescue me. And he's in lots of pain so mister Yankee, suh, won't ya pleese git him to a doctor. 

Captain Johnson, who considered himself an abolitionist, was quite taken by Cassandra's heartfelt story, if not by her considerable feminine charms. He took charge of the situation immediately, ordered Jeff taken to the base infirmary rather than the field hospital, and settled Preston, Cassie, and Neal in a large tent. There they were afforded every luxury the camp could provide, including the chance to bathe, change clothes and have, under the circumstances, excellent meals.

The problem came on Saturday, when Jeff attempted to leave the infirmary after a surgeon had removed the bullet. The army medical personnel wanted Jeff to remain for at least several days and were ready to enforce their will by force of arms if necessary. Neal was having great difficulty. His concern for his lover drove him continuously to the hospital, where he was consistently turned away because he was not an immediate relative. The group had no way to communicate what was happening to Sean, who, within a few more hours, would begin to be seriously worried and might take untoward action. 

Finally, on Sunday, the little group decided that, much as Neal hated leaving Jeff, he and Cassandra should meet Sean at the blacksmith's and Preston would stay to watch over Jeff. A major factor influencing this decision was Captain Johnson's increasing infatuation with Cassie. He had brought her flowers and candy and made other overtures of love. Cassandra, of course, undecided whether she was in love with Jeff or Preston, rebuffed all of the captain's advances. 

Though he fancied himself an abolitionist, the fine captain, a white man from Connecticut, assumed that a Negro woman would not, could not, deny the advances of a white man, especially a white man in a position of authority. Legally this was true. Even though emancipation would occur in January, just two months away, freedom for slaves would take place only in those states currently at war with the Union. In any case, Negroes were not and would not be equal under the law and had no legal standing in American courts. As a person of color and a woman, Cassie could easily become property once more. Someone had to get Cassie out of the fort or no rescue would have been effected. Neal was a local and a businessman, known in the area, so he was the logical choice to escort Cassie, while Preston, the converted Rebel, could leave the fort at any time, and return for Jeff, if necessary. (Preston had to be somewhat careful not to be looked upon as a confederate spy.) By Tuesday, no one had come forward to claim the bodies of the dead kidnappers, so they were interred in a potters field. Their horses were impressed into military service for the union. Oddly, they had no money in their pockets. Since Captain Johnson believed Cassandra's story outright and everyone living agreed, there was no inquest into the affair and everyone was free to go. Preston sat and waited for Jeff's release from the infirmary while Neal and Cassie set out for new Madrid.

*********

For nearly a week, Sean had been treated well by Barnes and his family. Mrs. Barnes was a tower of a woman, nearly as tall and strong as her blacksmith husband. Their union had produced three strapping sons, now in their teens and rivaling their father in stature and strength. Yet there was a kindness and gentleness that ran through this gargantuan family, a serenity based on strength of mind and body and spirit. They knew of Neal's penchant for the love of men, were aware of the relationship between Neal and Jeff, but accepted it as part of a broader, more comprehensive nature than was accepted by most narrow minds of their times. As a result, their respect for the two men was based upon Neal and Jeff's success at business, and their value as loving, caring individuals. The family accepted Sean for what they saw in him, a young man trying to eke out a space for himself in their war-torn world.

By Tuesday, however, Sean was nearly mad with worry about the others, particularly Preston. Sean had no faith in the fairness or rightness of things military. He feared all the males had been impressed into service and Cassandra had become someone's slave or servant. He paced nervously all morning. Finally, Sean asked Barker, one of the Barnes' sons, to ready a horse for travel. He had worried enough, the time had come for action. He bid the blacksmith and his family goodbye and turned toward the barn, when a ruckus arose in the yard on the other side of the house. Sean turned to see what all the noise was about and spotted Cassandra leading two horses his way. He ran to lift her by the waist, whooping loudly as he whirled her 'round and 'round. "Where's Prest, where's Neal, where's Jeff?" he spat out his inquiries in rapid succession.

"Y'all put me down now, y'hear put me down." Though she feigned seriousness, there was laughter in her voice.

"Hey, Sean," the deep voice of Neal boomed across the dusty yard. Sean dropped Cassandra abruptly and rushed to the older man's arms. After a few minutes, he realized everyone was watching and released Neal from his embrace.

Sean looked all around him. "Where's . . . Preston?"

"The military doctors wouldn't release Jeff just yet. Prest stayed to look after him. They'll be along in a few days. As soon as the docs say Jeff is fit to travel."

"Sean's face fell. But I. . . I have been. . .waiting. . . worried."

"Prest is fine. Don't worry. Cassie so enthralled the captain there, Captain Johnson, that he'd do almost anything for her."

"So he's really. . .I mean, he's. Damn! I miss him so much. This is the longest we have been apart since we met."

Neal put his arm across Sean's shoulder. I know, I know, I was really worried about Jeff for a while, too, but I promise you, everything will be fine."

The Barnes' other son, Morgan, only sixteen but much taller than Sean, was peeking shyly around a corner of the house, clearly taken by Cassie's innate charms. During a lunch rich with meat and milk, Neal told the Barneses the tale of the daring rescue and subsequent adventures at Fort Thompson. Forever after, the Barnes family would look upon the four men as heroes. The two men and Cassandra sat around the Barnes family hearth and talked of coming emancipation, of the war's end and what the future might hold for all of them.

Cassandra had sat the entire evening curled at Sean's feet, his closeness affording her a badly needed sense of personal safety.

At bedtime, Mrs. Barnes took Cassie into her bedroom, chasing her husband to share with one of their boys, who doubled up in one room. Neal and Sean were assigned to share the bed in the remaining bedroom.

As quiet and darkness fell over the household, Sean drifted into troubled slumber. He had deliberately snuggled his backside against Neal as the older man drifted off to sleep, but Neal had not availed himself of the concealed invitation. Sean had been without sex since his encounter with Neal six nights earlier, the longest period since he and Preston had met. A raging erection woke him often during the fitful night. When morning came, Sean Found himself curled against Neal, spoon style. Neal's large muscled arm was thrown over him, and one huge coarse blacksmith hand cupped his crotch gently. Against his backside, Sean felt the definite presence of Neal's iron hard penis, even through both their clothes. Sean pushed back against Neal, wriggling his butt, hoping to waken Neal for a repeat of their earlier night together. Neal woke, sizing up the situation as soon as consciousness returned. He worked his calloused meaty hand through the intricacies of Sean's trousers to close his fist around Sean's impressive erection. "You are so big," he whispered in Sean's ear, "I want you inside me."

"But," said Sean, "I was hoping. . ."

"Oh you were, huh, tell me about it," Neal said, working his fist over the swollen head of Sean's cock.

Sean's breathing was becoming labored as he struggled to communicate. "I. . . That is, the last time we. . . I. . . felt, something. I was hoping. . . "

"What were you hoping, Sean? What were you feeling? Tell me, talk to me." As he spoke, Neal continued to caress Sean's cock and balls, struggling with and opening Sean's trousers further with his other hand.

"When you, last time, when you, er, uh. . . put it in me, I felt, this. . . this. . . need, this desire to, to give, give in, give up. To, you know, Oh god!"

Neal hooked his thumbs in each side of the waistband of Sean's trousers and pushed down, exposing Sean's bare buttocks to the older man's rampant dripping cock. In front, Sean's cock bounced into the open air, its massive form rigid with desire.

Neal began to press forward, whispering, "take my cock Sean, take it in you." The fat red wet head of his cock probed gently at Sean's puckered brown ass hole, seeking entrance. Neal jerked his hips sharply forward. The head of his cock popped past the tight ring of Sean's sphincter. Sean whispered softly, "Oh god!"

At that moment, the Barnes' Rooster began its loud chanticleer crowing, announcing the opening of the day and his supremacy over everything in the yard. Almost immediately, the two men heard the household coming to life. Neal pulled back. 

"No, oh. Oh, no," Sean cried out softly, please."

But there was no way either of them could continue their love making in the noisy, over crowded little house.

Sean was crabby the rest of the day. He was even short with Cassandra over a trifle. All day he watched Neal for a hint of when and how they might consummate their early encounter. Finally, about three in the afternoon, Neal announced that he was going for a ride, telling the family he merely needed some time alone. Sean wondered how he could follow without being obvious. Sleeping with Neal at night and being with him in the afternoon were two different things. The family would probably not approve of his dalliance, knowing of Neal's relationship with Jeff. His driving need won out over discretion. A few minutes after Neal mounted and rode off, Sean rode after him, saying nothing to anyone about leaving. After about ten minutes, Sean caught up with Neal. 

Riding alongside, Sean addressed the older man. "Neal, I need to talk to you."

"Here I am, talk away."

"Well, I ain't sure I know exactly how to say it."

"How about straight out and wide open?"

"Well, uh, it ain't all that easy."

"Are you afraid of what I might think?"

"No I guess I am just uncertain about myself. It's kinda touchy."

Neal reined up his pony and held it still. "Out with it."

Sean was not all that used to riding and had more difficulty keeping his horse still. "You remember that night in the shelter, what you, er we, uh, did?"

"Of course I remember. One of the most passionate nights of my life. You really helped me get over some fear and guilt and grief."

"Well, er, uh, ya see, the thing is, I kinda enjoyed it."

"I don't understand. Of course you enjoyed it."

"Damn, could we get off these damn horses?"

Neal spurred his mount and left the road. Sean followed. Some distance away, Neal stopped in a small glade of new growth aspen, their yellow leaves sparkling as they fluttered in the autumn sun. He tethered his horse to a stout trunk and sat on a downed log, waiting while Sean did the same. "That better?" He asked.

"Yeah, thanks," Sean replied. He sat beside Neal on the log. Neal waited patiently and silently for Sean to continue. "What I experienced that night," Sean went on, "was a thrill at being 'taken' a need to. . . to. . . to surrender, I guess you would call it. It was strange. I had heard Preston speak of his 'joy in giving himself to me', but I never understood. But that night. . . It was all over so quick, so, so fast that all I got was a fleeting hint of the feeling. And it intrigued me. Then last night, well I guess it was this morning, I was ready to feel it again, wanting to feel that. . . that, I don't know, release I guess. And then, well, we didn't, I didn't, get to feel it again, cuz of that damned rooster.

"So what are you saying? Neal asked. Is there something I should do?"

Sean blushed, reddening even in the parts of his body that could not be seen. "Yes," he said, "I want you to, to er, uh. . ." He looked at the ground, kicked the dirt with his toe, looking for a moment, every bit like an embarrassed ten year old. "I want you to, to, er, uh, take me." This last utterance was so soft that Neal almost asked Sean to repeat himself. But Neal knew what Sean wanted. He turned and took Sean's face in his meaty blacksmith hands, held his face, kissed him. His lips were firm and dry, insistent and overwhelming, roaming all over Sean's face, his eyes, his ears, his nose, his cheeks and neck. Neal's hands dropped and roughly undressed Sean, pausing to caress, stroke Sean's body as he unveiled it. He went to his knees and removed Sean's pants and shoes and socks. Sean's cock rose, jumping and throbbing only inches from the large man's face. Neal did not hesitate, but took the full length into his mouth and throat, despite its huge proportions. His tongue swirled as his throat closed over the plump head. He moved his face forward and back, fucking his own throat with Sean's engorged cock. His huge firm callused hands closed on Sean's butt cheeks, fingers curled roughly into the crack, drawing him forward, deeper and deeper. Neal worked Sean's prick expertly. In a few short minutes, Sean was crying out loudly, startling a flock of starlings from the trees as he spent his sperm deep in Neal's throat.

Neal slipped his mouth from Sean, rose, grasped Sean's hips and turned him. He covered Sean's neck and back with nibbles just sharp enough to straddle the line between pleasure and pain. At each incisive bite, Sean involuntarily thrust his hips back, his taut, well formed ass cheeks coming in contact with Neal's ever growing, ever hardening penis. Walking the tightrope between pleasure and pain, fearing to fall either way, Sean's excitement grew and grew until he was nearly frantic with need.

Neal drew back a bit and pushed down on Sean's back, bending him over until Sean was forced to grab the rugged black bark of a gnarled old oak for support. Neal's meaty hands grasped Sean's hips and drew him back. By now Neal's cock was dripping and slipped easily between Sean's tight cheeks.




Brothers in Arms Ch. 09



Neal wriggled his hips until the hot purple head of his dick came in contact with the tight brown circle of Sean's anal sphincter. He pressed ahead strongly, taking a half step forward. All at once, his engorged cock head popped into Sean. "Oh god," Sean cried, "oh my god!"

Neal switched his hands from Sean's hips to his shoulders, pulling back strongly as he pressed his hips forward, slipping slowly into Sean, little by little, until his full thick manhood was fully imbedded and his balls hung against the back of Sean's thighs. He withdrew as slowly as he had entered until once again only the plump head of his dick remained inside.

Suddenly Neal slammed forward and out and in again, three times in rapid succession. Sean was nearly driven to his knees, but threw his arms about the rough tree trunk for support. Once again Neal slowed his motions, but this time his strokes were long and slow. The shadowy sunlight filtering through the grove of trees produced exactly enough light for Neal to see his rampant cock slide in and out of Sean's Tender ass. He watched on the outstroke as Sean's tight hole captured only the tip of his long foreskin, then watched his cock slip through his foreskin and into Sean's depths. 

Sean was experiencing a good deal of discomfort as thrust after thrust drove into his unwonted ass, spreading him, opening him, loosening him. His natural instinct was to resist the insistent intruder by clasping his hole more tightly, but to do so brought more intense pain. He could of course, end it all by simply asking Neal to stop. Neal had no wish to harm him. But Sean had decided to try, to reach for the pure pleasure he was sure lay in total surrender. He had had a fleeting glimpse, a taste of something larger than himself and now was willing, no eager, to go the limit. He tried to let go, to loosen, not yet understanding that the decision did not lie with him.

Neal lengthened and strengthened his thrusts, slamming hard into Sean, his balls bouncing off Sean's ass with each jab. The resistance he felt heightened his passion, for what was the good in surrender if there were no battle. One huge pounding thrust loosened Sean's grip on the mighty oak. Neal's cock slid sloppily from him as Sean fell to his knees on the mossy forest floor. He knelt there a moment, gasping, fluid dripping from his ass down the backs of his legs. Neal dropped to his knees behind Sean. The large coarse hands clutched, turned Sean to his back on the dead and decaying leaves on the forest floor.

"Look in my face," Neal commanded. "Look in my eyes." He lifted Each of Sean's legs to each of his shoulders, moved forward. Sean's buttocks were lifted slightly off the damp earth. Neal used his thumbs to spread Sean, slid his hips forward, met resistance once again, pushed hard to force entry, and resumed his hard fast fucking.

Sean felt no pain now, only a sense of being inordinately filled, invaded, pierced again and again. His hands scrabbled at fallen oak and maple leaves as his voice rose to a single high keening note. All at once Neal struck hard twice, almost viciously, struck some deeply hidden secret spot. Sean felt himself go limp, open widely. Neal's cock had free and easy access to any and all parts within him. 

"Look at me!" Neal demanded once again. He now easily drew his iron hard manhood all the way out of Sean's stretched hole before slamming back in. At each stroke, he could clearly see Sean's anus, wide open, bright red, pulsing and inviting.

Sean's eyes began to glaze over, but not before being captured by the deep soul-probing eyes of Neal. "I know you," they seemed to say. "I know your shallows and your depths, your rises and dips, the good and evil in you, the pattern of your heart and soul. You are mine!"

The strength and power of those eyes, piercing him with the same intensity as the cock piercing his bowels below, broke down the final barriers of Sean's resistance. He was gone, lost, adrift in the ever changing swirl of the universe. A voice immediate, but sounding far away, demanded, " Give it up. Let go, give yourself to me. Surrender! Now!" Sean involuntarily rolled his hips upward, opening fully as Neal pounded down and down and down into him. And then the wave struck Sean. It engulfed him. It was ice and fire and a fierce pleasure he had never known. 

Between their bodies cum began to flow freely from Sean's huge cock. It was not a mere spurt or two as in orgasm, but a continuous stream that went on and on and on. His eyes rolled back in his head and consciousness seemed to stream out of him with his cum.

Neal felt the ultimate surrender in Sean's body, felt the copious discharge against their bellies, felt Sean's hips turn up, his body open. Frantic with passion, he drove down, down, down, until he too, was suddenly cumming. He grasped Sean's ass and pulled it tight against him, burying himself as deep as possible. He made a fierce growling sound as he held himself tight and still and shot load after load of cum deep in Sean's bowels.

The afternoon sun was low, the shadows in the small grove long, before either man was roused. Their bodies were fragrant with sweat and sex, sticky with the partially dried remnants of their love. Neal, waking first, spent a few tender moments gazing down at his lover's trim form. Neal had always seen Sean as strong and mature and able, but despite the enormous responsibilities Sean had had to face recently, in sleep his naked body revealed its extreme youth and vulnerability. With a deep sigh of regret, Neal reached his beefy hand to shake the reclining youth. "Sean, Sean, time to wake up, lad. They'll be wonderin' where we're off to." 

Sean stirred and smiled. "Thank you Neal."

"What're you thankin' me for?"

"You know, for uh. . . well, you know."

"Yes, yes I do lad, and it's me that should be thankin' you."

Sean laughed, "Well, kiss me then, and let's just thank each other."

They exchanged a quick but meaningful kiss. Sean hurriedly dressed, they mounted their horses and rode back to the livery stable, each man feeling quite satisfied with himself. 

Back at the Barnes' place, they discovered they had been missed. Everyone,especially Cassandra, had begun to worry. Morgan, the sixteen year old, had been the calming influence on the family. He had insisted that, since horses were missing, Neal and Lance had probably gone off together. He had sagely added, "and where they were agoin', er why, ain't none of are bizness." He understood very well, he made it clear, what a boring place the livery was.

Neal and Sean returned to the homestead without incident and without comment.

About seven in the evening, when everyone was sitting around digesting one of Mrs. Barnes excellent suppers, there came a knock at the door. Morgan, the youngest and quickest got there first and flung open the door.

"Pa, Pa, it's a union soldier Pa, says he's got a message fer ya from the fort."

"Come in. Come in, son. Will you have coffee and a piece of gooseberry pie with us?"

"Well, thank ye very kindly Sir, but I gotta get back, my regiments goin' south on a stern wheeler this evening and I gotta be aboard when they shove off or Sergeant Terry will chew off a piece of me ass, begin' yer pardon, ladies."

Well, son, you say you've got a message?"

"Yessir, the message is from Mr. Jefferson. I got to know him a bit up there in the infirmary at the fort, ya see I were kinda busted up meself. Well, Mr Jeff he's a kinda hero ta some of us there at the hospital, cause we heered that he got wounded rescuin' a pretty young Negro lass from bein' kidnapped down south. I guess that would be you, ma'am." The young soldier blushed as he glanced at Cassie, interrupting his narrative to tip his cap.

"Well anyway, Jeff, that is to say, Mr. Jefferson, he say to tell Mr. Harcourt and Mr. McFadden that he would be out of the hospital and he an' Mr. Dalton will be comin' here at the end of two days. That'd be Friday evenin' I s'pose."

"Thank you very much for delivering the message, Mr. , er. . ."

"Doyle, saar, Patrick Doyle at yer service, though me friends call me Paddy."

"Just one minute boy, Patrick, Mrs. Barnes said. Would you wait just a minute please." The large woman disappeared into a back room, returning after a few moments carrying a large knitted wool scarf. "Now I know you are goin' south, but winter'll be commin' on us very soon. I want you to have this to keep you warm," Mary Barnes said, winding the heavy scarf around the young man's neck.

"But Ma'am I don't. . . "

Despite the young soldier's protestations, Mrs. Barnes continued to wind the woolen scarf around his neck. It was a woman's way to insert some peace and beauty and sanity into a bloody war that had cost the lives of so many young men, to put a piece of herself, something she had created with her feminine hands, between this boy and the blood and horror of war. 

"Might as well give up, lad," Sean said. "I know this lady. If they had sent her south ol' general Lee would've surrendered by now."

"Well, thank ye verra much, ma'am," Paddy said. "I jes' hope Sergeant Terry'll let me keep it." The soldier opened the door, turned and was gone into the night.

"Thank God," Neal said, "When I saw the soldier at first I thought it was bad news." His face burst into a broad grin. "I am so glad that my Jeff is okay. I'd better start getting things ready. I'll want to get him home right away. I can't wait."

"I'm pretty happy, too," Sean said. I was really uncomfortable with Prest there at that Yankee fort. I was afraid they would hang him for a rebel spy or arrest him or something. It'll be nice for us to get home, too. I think I am gonna start saving to build our own house. But first I've got to get our business up and running again."

"Mr. Mcfadden," Morgan said, "do you think I could move up there and go to work for you?"

"And have to deal with your ma? I don't think so."

"Oh hell," the youngster cried, "I never get to do nuthin'." Everyone in the crowded kitchen laughed except Morgan, who stormed angrily out into the yard.

As darkness fell truly over the livery and homestead. Sean went outside for a walk and a bit of fresh air. As he walked, he pondered the actions and events which filled his life. In particular, his mind was having trouble wrapping itself around this afternoon's lovemaking with Neal. Was this merely a new experience for Sean to recognize, enjoy, file away and move on? Or was it a more significant, life-changing event? And did it, or would it, affect his relationship with Preston? He knew his overall feelings for Prest had not changed. In fact, he longed, ached, for Prest to return. The mere thought of seeing him again brought a smile to his face.

Were the huge waves of pleasure that had washed over him at the precise moment of total surrender, to become his goal or merely another way of feeling pleasure. Would he be able to repeat those feelings with anyone else, with Prest? Or was it specifically Neal that brought out these feelings? Perhaps lovemaking was and should be different with each person. If that were the case, then perhaps he should not tie himself exclusively to one person, at least sexually. He wondered then whether he was merely thinking too much, as was sometimes his wont. 

The night was so pitch black in the absence of a moon that he could almost see clearly by starlight. Someone emerged out of the shadows at the rear of the house. Sean waited. Soon he could identify the figure of Morgan approaching. "Hello Morgan."

"Hi Sean, Uh, hey Sean, could I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Morg, what's on your mind?"

"If I asked you, would you kiss me?"

"HUH? Wait hold on. No way."

"Well why not, dontcha like me?"

"Sure, yeah, I like ya, but not that way. You are too young for me."

"I knew you'd say that. I am too young for anything and everything. Well, kin I at least ask you a question?"

"Sure, yeah, I guess."

"How do you know, I mean how does a guy know if he's like, er, like you know, like you and Prest are?"

"Well, maybe you should be askin' Jeff. He says he has known since he was five. But as for me, I didn't know it, still don't know it. It just kinda happened ta me. But what is real important here is why you are askin' me?"

"Well who else would I ask?"

"No I don't mean that. I mean what makes you think you might be 'that way'?"

"Well, it's kinda embarrassing."

"That's okay. You don't hafta tell me anything."

"You're not gonna tell nobody, right.?"

"Right. You have my word."

"Well, ya see, a bunch of us fellas, we always go swimmn' down by the slough off the big river and mosta the time we, like, you know, don't wear nuthin'."

"Yes?"

"That ain't jes it. Mosta the time I end up lookin' at other guys, you know, their 'things', their ya know dicks an all and sometimes, ya know, lookin' at 'em makes me feel sorta all funny, makes my, my thing, ya know, uh, uh, react. An' I jes' wanna know does that mean I am, er, like you guys are."

"You probably should be askin' your dad about this stuff."

"Yeah, right, ain't no way I could ever do that."

"Well, Morgan, let me ask you a question. Can I?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so."

"I am assuming you never had sex with anyone yet."

"That ain't a question."

Sean laughs. "Answer it anyway."

Giggling, "Yer right, I never. But Janey Thompson, she let me touch her tits."

"Well here it is. My opinion, for what it is worth. And I still say you should ask your dad, cuz there are questions I should ask, but it ain't my business. Anyway, what I think is. I think a certain amount of curiosity about other guys is normal and ya don't have to worry about it at all. In fact the less you worry about it the better off you will be. Is that a good enough answer?"

"Really, you think it's all right, I mean, er, well, hell, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, nothin' to worry about."

"Thanks, Sean, thanks for helpin' me. You are a really great guy."

"Naw, it's nothin'. You take care now, you hear."

"Kay, thanks again, Sean," Morgan turns to run off, stops, " Say Sean?"

"Yes Morgan?"

"You think it'd be okay if I called you 'uncle Sean'?"

"I'd be very honored, Morgan."

"Good night, Uncle Sean."

"Good night, Morgan."

Immediately, Sean was faced with another problem. Sleeping arrangements in the overcrowded house called for him to share a bed with Neal. He wondered if anything would happen, if Neal would assume anything, want anything. And did he. . . want anything? What he really wanted was to be with Preston. That wasn't gonna happen 'til Friday. Two long nights, three long days. Maybe he could speak to Neal. But what would he say? "I wanted you today and yesterday and the day before, but not tonight?" He made his way to the pump and washed himself under the pale platinum light of billions of stars, then turned and went inside.

Neal lay abed in the dark quiet of the Barnes' home, thinking of Jeff. He heard the noise of the pump in the yard and realized Sean would be sliding in beside him within a few minutes. Would he be naked as usual? What would he expect. Could he deny Sean the new-found pleasure he had brought the younger man? Did he want Sean again that way? Truth be told, he would rather have Sean's unbelievably big dick piercing him. 

Sean came quietly into the room, carrying a hooded lantern. Neal gladly watched him undress. He had always derived great pleasure from watching other men disrobe. Sean was no exception. Though Neal had seen Sean's marvelous cock several times, his breath caught in his throat when the youngster dropped his pants and the huge thing swayed heavily into view. "Why is it," he wondered, "that very large dicks always inspired such great passion in us, when a truly large cock such as Sean's was probably more a burden than an asset." Though he personally longed to be penetrated by such mass and weight, he knew that such endeavors were difficult and often painful. Then Sean was sliding in next to him and the monstrous thing was actually touching his hip He grew instantly erect imagining it stuffed inside him. 

"You awake?" Sean whispered.

"Yeah, sorta."

"Listen, Neal. I, that is, er, I, I, uh, would it be okay if we didn't make love tonight? I sorta have Preston too much on my mind. I know we, Prest and I, swing sorta free, but tonight, for some reason, I would just feel funny 'doing it' with you, while thinking about him."

"You know, Sean,I feel the same way about Jeff. I can scarcely wait to see him again. If its okay with you, let's just go to sleep. But I need to tell you that I love being with you. Jeff and I will talk about this, but I am pretty sure he's gonna be okay with it. He wants Preston pretty bad."

"Oh, really?"

"You haven't noticed the two of them sniffin' around each other, especially after that night on the riverboat?"

"Yeah, hee, hee, now that ya mention it."

"Well, night Neal."

"Night Sean."

Both men had difficulty sleeping that night. Neither was accustomed to deferring passion.

The next day rose sunny, and unusually warm for late October. The small homestead, though next to the livery and in town, was enclosed on two sides with hardwoods and conifers. To exit the rear door in autumn was to be pummeled by an explosion of glorious color. The deep green of the cedar and pale green of the southern pine, contrasted starkly with the blazing orange and and crimson of the maples, the shimmering gold of the poplars and willows, and the burnt umber of the many oaks. 

Though they used coal and charcoal to keep the forges glowing, they heated their home and water using wood exclusively. However, the Barnes' seldom cut from their own stand, preferring the expense of buying their wood commercially to preserve the forests primal beauty and save the natural windbreak protecting them from the storms that swept in ferociously from the southwest.

Thursday morning, Neal and Sean, and Jacob, Barker, Sam, and Morgan Barnes, headed out in two empty wagons to a wharf in town to pick up a load of charcoal, mineral coal, and hardwood. On the way to New Madrid, Jacob and Neal explained to Sean that the new easier burning mineral coals were beginning to replace charcoal as the primary fuel for the blacksmith's forge. "I personally prefer charcoal, but figure it takes a lot of years to grow so many trees to make that much charcoal, so I am switching over to the mineral coals. But I still use charcoal to get the coal started. It costs me about thirty cents a bushel and I go through about twenty bushels a month. So the next time you think it is so expensive to shoe a horse, you'll know why I hafta charge so much."

It was a hard days labor and everyone was exhausted by the time they finally had unloaded their purchases at the Barnes homestead. Talk at the supper table was subdued as they dove into heaps of fried chicken and mounds of mashed potatoes slavered with Mary Barnes special cracklin' gravy. They topped it all off with a huge slab of Mary' peach cobbler. "Ma'am," Sean remarked, "that there is about the best meal I have eaten in my whole life. I am glad we finished the cobbler. I was afraid the angels would swoop down from heaven and steal it."

"You know Sean, its when yer tellin' big stories that yer Irish comes out," Mary replied. But the grin on her face verified that she took flattery well.

After supper, Sean decided to take a walk in the deep woods behind the house. He traveled a well-worn deer path, clearly visible by the light of the new moon. As he walked, he puzzled once again over the amazing turns and twists of human sexuality. Everyone was always telling you when you were young that you were supposed to find that one true love on the first try and stay with that person your whole life. But how were you supposed to know enough, learn enough, if no one would talk about it, and you were tied to one person? 




Brothers in Arms Ch. 09



And what about this boy/girl stuff? Was he really attracted to boys and not girls? Then what about this thing he had had with Cassie? Were people really divided into categories. It certainly looked like people were one or the other. It certainly appeared that people chose one person and stayed with that person, but that was only on the surface. When he looked closely, Sean saw all kinds of people loving all kinds of people. Young Morgan had at least thought about sex with him, but also was constantly eying Cassie. Men had wives they were devoted to, yet often went to a whore on the weekend. Some men seemed to have one woman for sex and another for a wife and kids. That was another thing. Did he want to have kids some day? How would that work? Would he give up Prest to have kids? He didn't think so. God, it was all so confusing.

Certainly he loved Prest. He didn't doubt that. He could easily see himself being with Prest the rest of his life. But could he honestly say he would be satisfied to have sex with only Preston for the rest of is life? He already knew that wasn't so. The things he had learned from Neal were not to be dismissed. They had been real, genuine, valuable. When he and Prest were back together, he hoped he could talk all this over with his lover, see what fit in their lives and what didn't fit.

Pitch darkness was engulfing him. The moon, already only a sliver, was setting. The faint starlight dappling the forest floor created an odd, disorienting, other-worldly effect, confusing his depth perception, and making walking difficult. Sean hurried along the deer path, anxious to return to the safety of the hearth. He had no idea how much time had passed during his reveries. He shivered a bit. Despite the unseasonable warmth of the day, this was October, the night air was chilly. 

Sean turned along a curve in the path and stopped in his tracks. There, standing proudly before him, caught by a silvery shaft of moonlight, was a large ten point white tailed buck. The deer probably weighed over two hundred pounds. Sean was awestruck by the aura of power and majesty the buck emitted. They stood there a moment, eying each other warily. The buck gave a quick flick of its fluffy white tail and disappeared into the forest as silently as he had come. Sean was sure that the vision he had experienced had some deep spiritual meaning. If only he were an Indian, he could ask the shaman what it meant. Shaking his head violently to clear his thinking, Sean hurried along the path even more quickly.

By the time Sean reached the house, darkness had fallen. The log house was as silent as the forest had been. Assuming everyone was asleep, Sean crept quietly into the bedroom he would share with Neal one more night. Tomorrow night, in fact tonight, in a way, he would be in bed with Preston in their stateroom on the River Queen. He felt himself hardening slightly at the thought of entwining with Preston's fine white body. Sean slid quietly under the covers beside Neal, who was snoring lightly, both glad and sorry they would not be having sex this night. 

Morning broke crisp and fresh. Sean was up with the rooster. He did the milking, drew water, chopped wood, and performed several other chores, hoping to make the time zip by. When he went into the house, breakfast was being served. He had hoped it would be at least noon. By the time he had stuffed in his last apple pancake, he could stand it no longer. "Neal, did the man say what time Prescot and Jeff were coming? Whatdya think. Think we could head out and meet 'em on the road?"

"Maybe, if we knew what road they were taking."

"So you don't think that'd be a good idea?"

"Ah the sweet impatience of youth. You waited this many days already, what's a few more hours?"

"Well, I'm just sayin'."

"You want us to send out scouts?"

"Would you?

"I was joking. People have lives to live, forges to run, horses to shoe."

"Yeah, very funny. Aren't you anxious to see Jeff?"

"Yeah, I am very anxious,but I know he's comin' soon."

"Well I can't wait. I am gonna ride back toward the fort on the town road, the way I came. If he gets here before I get back, don't you let him go anywhere."

Mr Barnes loaned Sean a horse. Against everyone's advice, Sean set out at a crisp canter to meet his lover. The lone rider galloping through town attracted some attention. Several people looked to see who was riding past in such a hurry. Sean neither stopped nor paid heed to anyone's concerns as he sped toward the road he hoped was bringing Preston closer by the minute. Once he was well out of town, Sean was forced to slow his pace. The poor horse was not his and should not be taxed to its maximum. He took the road most frequently used from New Madrid to the fort. Especially close to town, the road was crowded with soldiers coming and going to the camp, and with others: fur traders, iron mongers, horse traders, almost anyone ,selling almost anything to the fort or to the hungry, lonely, tired, frightened soldiers encamped there. He rode as hard and fast as he could drive the horse and had covered about nine miles. It was about two in the afternoon when the road became very crowded.

As he rode, he scanned the road ahead for any sign of Jeff or Preston. Fort Thompson was now about six miles distant. If he didn't run into the men before long, they might all have to spend the night out in the open. He could not remember what had become of the meager shelter he and Prest had carried so many miles.

"Dah-yam. Ah whisht all y'all wud move yer asses an' let a wounded soljer get on home to his mamie. Go ahn naow. Move along. Git out da way!" The voice floated above the crowd, its southern Georgia, Florida drawl standing out among a sea of Misssouri, Kentucky, Tennessee and Mississippi Accents. 

"Preston, Preston!" Sean began yelling. Prest? Where are you?" He ducked and dodged his head around, craning his neck to locate Preston amid the throng of travelers on the road. Finally he saw Preston's red head bobbing in and out of a crowd of merchants. He dashed rudely through the crowd, knocking down one person and disturbing quite a few. One very large man obstructed his progress. "How come you think your need to get somewhere is greater than everyone else's?" the stranger enquired.

"Sorry," Neal replied. "I was just anxious to get to my friend that I just found."

"Maybe I'll just stand here and make you wait a while."

"Please, sir. . ."

"Turn aroun', naice n' slow, mister," a voice rang out from behind the stranger. He turned.

"You talkin' to me?"

"Yes suh, Ah am, Preton replied. "Mah frien' here has already 'pologized. Would you please move aside and leave him pass, or is futha action requaired?"

"What do you mean, further action, you stupid little cocksucker? You get the fuck out of my way, too, mother fucker or I will slice you to pieces," the stranger said, producing a wicked looking knife from under his shirt.

"Suh," Preston replied. Ah b'leve you have brung a knife to a gunfight. Please Sah. Stay where you ahr and put dat knife away. Do not advance or Ah will shoot you dade afore you git ta me"

A short woman emerged from the crowd and whispered in the big man's ear. She took his hand and tried to drag him away. He looked at her. He looked at Sean. He looked at Preston.

The rebel lad spoke again, "Onect agin Suh, mah fren 'n' Ah, do 'pologize fer any inconvenience we maight have caused ya. Now please suh, step aside 'n' let ar 'appy reunion cammence."

The huge man glanced around once more, then let himself be led away by his tiny wife. Neither Sean nor Preston moved until they were both sure any hint of danger had passed, then rushed into one another's arms. Oblivious to the mulling crowd, Sean planted his lips firmly on Preston's. A large sigh went up from the crowd and several people shook their heads in disgust and walked away. 

The two young lovers went on embracing for some time, happy to be together once again. Preston, who had not had sex for several weeks, was greatly excited by the familiar feel of Sean's large manhood pulsing against his own. After about two minutes, the boys broke their embrace. Sean greeted Jeff warmly. "How' are you doing? How's that hip? You impressed me greatly with your boldness and bravery with Cassie. If you need or want a job with S and P Protection services, you've got it, although I am not sure if we have managed to save the company after so many days of inattention."

Jeff had much to add. "I am happy and proud to have done this good thing with the two of you. You have no idea how impressed I am with the two of you, so young, yet so committed. And, uh, listen," lowering his voice to a near whisper, "I heard what was going on in the crowd just now when that uh, big guy was, you know, interfering. Everyone thought Prest here was gonna shoot him dead. I think he has a reputation. They think he is a gunslinger."

"Yeah, well, I think he is too," Sean replied.

"Okay, da two of y'all cut it out. Yah know dis ain't no fun, haven' ta watch ever'one and ever'thin' all da taime."

"Okay, okay," Sean says, laughing lightly. "Oh hey, and, Jeff, can you ride okay with that hip of yours? Do you think we cam make it back to the Barnes' before dark? And Prest? Do we still have that old tarp we use for shelter, in case we don't?"

"Ah cain do better den dat. The cap'm at de fort, he gived us a whole new tent. We cain't carry the floorboa'ds, but we gots the whole canvas part. It'll make us a shelter better den we evah did have.

"Wahll, what we waitin' fer? Lat's git goin'"

The three men wheel their horses to the center of the road, around the slow-moving throng and dig in their heels, spurring on their mounts to make up as much time as possible. About two hours later though, they had managed only five of the more than fifteen miles that had remained. As they traveled on toward New Madrid, the traffic eased a bit. More speed was possible. Sean had been keeping a watchful eye on Jeff, gauging his strength and degree of pain. He saw the young man's power drain away as the abrasion of the saddle on his wound and the stress of travel wore him down. The army surgeons had refused to send morphia with Jeff, needing to hoard it for the many injured troops continually streaming in from the south, so Jeff's pain level rose continually. By five in the evening, his face was wan and his jaws tight from gritting his teeth against the pain. The horses, particularly Sean's bay mare, which had made the round trip, were near exhaustion. The three had reached a decision point. Sean reined up.

"Listen you two, I think we should stop for the night and continue in the morning. It's gonna start getting cold fast and this country ain't no place to be riding around after dark. Let's look for a place off the road where we can set up camp for the night. If I remember right there is a small clear water creek, just about a half mile that way."

"Let's keep goin'," Jeff pleaded, "I wanna see Neal tonight."

"Yeah," Prest agreeed, "Ah wanna sleep in a nice sof' bed tanight, not on no hard ass groun."

"Well, we can vote if you want. But brigands and bad guys and Jayhawkers are all over this place and I don't want to bump right into them in the dark. Pres? Take a look at Jeff. Look at his face. If this keeps up, brave as he is, he's gonna fall right off his horse."

"That raht, Jeff? Ya'll feelin' poorly? Do yah . ." Preston was unable to complete his words. Jeff began to totter in his saddle. Prest and Sean moved as one, each steadying one side of the older man. 

Preston took Jeff's reins and slowly led the horse where Sean led. In a half hour they had set up in a pleasant spot by the meandering creek. Night was coming on rapidly, but the fire was roaring to keep the chill and the pitch black at bay.

"Be right back" Sean said, moving down the bank to the water's edge. He began stripping the bark from several tender willows and shaving the inner bark it into his hand. When he had collected about two handfuls, he went back to the fire. Once there he took an empty coffee cup and filled it with water. He put the willow shavings in the cup to boil. "I am making you some tea. I guarantee you if you drink this tea, once it's steeped, it'll ease your pain. My gramps used to do this for my gramma when her pain got bad."

The three of them retired into the snug lean-to Preston had fashioned from the army tent.

"Hey Prest? We got anything to eat?"

"Nope, Ah ain't. Ah was 'spectin' ta be at the Barnes' ba naow."

"Prest?"

"Yeah?"

"Jeff is sound asleep already, snoring away."

"Yeah that stuff you gave him worked."

"Well, that ain't the point."

"What is the point?"

"The point is: get your beautiful body over here next to mine. And hurry."

Preston rose, half bent over in the short space, slipped off his shirt and pants, and slid into Sean's waiting arms, already semi-erect from the mere thought of what came next. "Oh. God," Sean breathed, "it's been so long, so long." He drew Preston's fine smooth, white body into the fold of his arms, kissing wherever his lips happened to land. "Oh Prest, there were times when I was afraid I had lost you."

"Wehll, hehll, Sean, dat ain't gonna happen. Ah has decided dat what evah else happens, no mattah what ya'll say or do, we is, that is, we are gonna be tagither."

"Yes, Prest, yes. Me too. Together. Always."

Sean could not see, but could sense, the huge smile on Preston's face. The younger lad kissed Sean fiercely, nibbling his lips and tongue. He reached between their bodies to grasp Sean's cock firmly. He broke the kiss, struggled to kneel between Sean's legs, the blankets falling from his shoulders. Sean could barely see Preston's shinning white body hovering over him, glowing amber and crimson and gold in the flickering glare of the dying fire.

Preston bent to take Sean's pendulous cock in both hands, to lick the bulging purple head, to insert the tip of his tongue between Sean's cock lips and flick it wildly there.

Sean moaned and thrust his hips up, silently presenting his cock for further attention. As Prest's mouth opened to enclose the head of Sean's huge cock like a huge nickle jaw-breaker, The Yankee boy entwined his fingers in the other boy's hair guiding his lips and tongue and teeth to every special sensitive spot, now and then thrusting up into Preston's pale face and deep into his throat. After a few minutes, Sean broke contact, wriggled around head to toe, and began his own sucking,licking and nibbling of Preston's penis.

Driven to heights of passion by their long absence from one another, the two boys sucked each other simultaneously, gobbling hungrily, as if starving for the pungent aroma and manly taste of hot dripping cock.

Their loud slurping and moaning brought Jeff slowly back to consciousness. As the two boys went at each other ferociously, he became more and more aware. In the very dim light cast by the fire's glowing embers, they resembled a pair of fiery demons devouring each other. The fire popped and cracked and threw out a shaft of flame, momentarily illuminating the pair of lovers. For that brief instant, Jeff could see clearly: Preston's fine alabaster body thrashing above Sean's larger, darker form; the almost human presence of Sean's enormous cock penetrating Preston's face; Preston's smaller, finer white cock slipping in and out between Sean's lips, fluid oozing from its foreskin covered head.

Despite his pain, his weakened condition, Jeff found himself suddenly, achingly hard. His hand drifted down between his legs to fondle himself in that oh so familiar way he had done so many times before. He began with soft, gentle strokes, his hand inverted, thumb toward him as he was wont to do, simulating the hand of another. His stroking quickened as the scene unfolded close beside him.

Unaware he had an audience, Preston ceased his sucking, eased his cock from Sean's throat. He paused a moment, looking deep in his lover's eyes. Then he turned, knelt on all fours, pressed his face to the light blanket that covered the ground, looked back over his shoulder at Sean and said quietly, earnestly, "Please?"

Sean moved forward on his knees, eager to comply with his young lover's wishes. His awe-inspiring dick hung heavily from his groin, swaying back and forth with each movement. He laid its mass atop Preston's buttocks, at the base of his spine, while he adjusted his position. Once he was firmly set, he took himself in both hands, eased back his long wrinkled foreskin, and began rubbing the fat head of his cock against Preston's small hole, transferring copious amounts of lubrication that flowed from him.

As usual, Preston called out "Oh," when first pierced by that huge hunk of engorged flesh. His anus had become somewhat inured, the pain of entry was no longer so severe, yet he felt sure there would always be some measure of pain in being penetrated by anything so large. He had come not only to accept the pain as a part of his life, but to embrace it as a forerunner of the overwhelming pleasure that was certain to follow.

Jeff was able, even in the dim light, to clearly see Sean's enormous cock slowly sink into Preston. Prest's little gasp upon entry inflamed Jeff with desire. His cock was painfully hard as he worked his hand faster and harder on himself. 

As Sean quickened his pace of entry into and withdrawal from, Preston's tender ass hole, he became aware of movement about two feet to his left. He strained his eyes and craned his neck to identify the source of the motion. Beneath him, Preston was moaning and thrusting his ass back, wriggling around on the end of the long pole that pierced him.

Behind him, Jeff, moving cautiously to avoid opening the wound in is hip, slowly maneuvered himself around so his rampant cock stood hard and proud about one foot from Sean's hand, where it was closed over Preston's thigh. Sean looked over. He could see the proud, powerful, leaking dick clearly, but only barely see Jeff's face. He grinned softly. Careful not to interrupt the frantic rhythm he had by now established in Preston's ass, he reached out and grasped Jeff's engorged cock firmly and began pumping it to the same primitive rhythm as his fucking.

Within a few dozen strokes, Jeff's cock was spurting hot come onto Sean's hand. It ran warmly down his wrist.

Preston had reached that pinnacle beyond which there is no pain. No pain, no thought, no logic, only the constant repetitive beat of surrender to the massive force invading his mind and body. He reached a high plateau of total and complete surrender that brings ultimate pleasure. His long, thin cock spurted repeatedly. Though he remained iron hard, his long foreskin had slid forward to cover the head of his penis and was now alternately filling with cum and emptying again, like a tiny balloon inflating and deflating.

Behind Preston, Sean was driven to a frenzy of wanton desire, plunging hard and fast into Preston, his balls bouncing off the younger man's body in that precise spot between ass and balls that can be so sensitive. Finally, he called out loudly, "Oh Preston!" He grasped Prest's hips strongly, pressed himself tight against his lover's body and held on as a stream of his cum emptied itself deep inside Preston. A small portion of cum dribbled out of Preston's hole in spite of, or maybe because of, the enormous presence that filled him.

Jeff tuned silently away, his minimal intrusion over, and sought the freedom of sleep while orgasm continued to hold the pain in abeyance.

Preston collapsed to the earth, Sean's heavier weight atop him. In his present state of the euphoria of surrender, the possessive crush of his lover's body upon him was ultimately reassuring.

As the huge intruder softened and slipped from his backside, he was momentarily stricken by a great sense of loss. 




Brothers in Arms Ch. 09



As Sean's enormous cock softened and slipped from his lover's ass, Sean, seeking to continue the soft feeling of possessive nurture and mutual trust, rose slightly from atop Preston and turned over the smaller boy to face him, then sunk down once more upon him, drawing him tight into the shelter of his arms and kissing his face, their cocks nestled together. They slept that way for much of the night, turned slightly to one side so Preston's slight body did not bear Sean's full weight.

Morning came early. All three boys were anxious to get on to the Barneses. The small tent was ripe with the aromas of the night's sex, a blend of male sex scent, dried cum and hot sweat. The three went to the creek and bathed in the frosty early morning in preparation for the short journey to the livery in New Madrid.