At Steeple Ease

They make their way up the Savannah River, the objective, find the perfect spot to build a home, a home befitting of a man of his station (or eventual station). Along with him on this exploratory trek is his longtime companion and future brother-in-law, Tobias Wentworth. It is a typical mosquito infested southern summer day on the colonial Georgia coast, he swats away the bothersome bugs as his paddle hits the dark river water beneath the boat. It is the mid-1740’s and there is land to be had in this wide-open New World. He wants his fertile stretch of it to build his future and empire.

“This is what I was looking for, Tobias,” he says, almost yelling, “Those bluffs are perfect. Perfect. They look to the river and rich fertile soil to be planted with the crops that will make me wealthy and prosperous.”

Tobias smirks to himself as he swats off an insect from his briskly bearded face.

Colorful and unknown birds dart and squawk loudly from the rooftops of the trees at the high-pitched tempo of his friend’s voice.

“Yes, I know,” Tobias, says, more sedate and cautious, “Once we passed the neatly laid-out German Salzburger village of Ebenezer, I knew we would find the right spot to build this manor you have harped to me and your sister about since we came ashore to Savannah, lo, those many months ago.”

He smiles. This is what he wants.

“Let’s go ashore Tobias! Let’s go ashore.”

Matthew points to the high riverbank.

“We need to go there.”

Both men gaze upon the high bluff that looms before the pair of muscular men.

The excitement in his voice is obvious to Tobias.

“Yes, Matthew. Yes, Matthew. We will go there.”

Their hand-hewn wooden paddles hit the water in synchronized unison as their boat hits the soft white powdery sand of the bank with the steep overhang of the bluff.

“This is what you want?”

“Yes, dear Tobias, this is what I want. This is what I want!” Matthew says with an excited unabated glee, “This glorious creation is my church, my steeple without a building.”

There is a scuffling in the brush as the wild animals scurry about and away from these two human invaders.

“I am sure the good Lutherans that will be your neighbors would be most appreciative of this slap in the face of their three-in-one God.”

“They do not own, who and what God is, although they claim what is in ‘their’ book is the definitive word, “Matthew says, “I worship at the temple of man and nature.”

Both men smile at that notion.

“Good for you, my brother,” Tobias says, “We best scale this bluff and see if there are ponds and streams for fresh water and fresh game to kill and eat.”

“Yes, we must. We must. I heard them scatter when we beached,” Matthew says as he steps from the canoe and plants his foot in the loamy soil of the river’s bank.

“As did I.”

***

“You should read this, Caleb. You should. It is really good.”

“What? What? What is good?””

Caleb runs the plush towel through his damp wet hair as he stands in the doorframe between the bathroom and their bedroom. His wet nakedness drips onto the aged wooden floors between the two rooms.

“My great-great grandfather’s journal, I am not sure how many greats back but it is a lot,” he says, “When he founded Steeple Ease, this glorious house, along the Savannah River.”

Madison is splayed out, naked too, on their expensive Queen sized bed, with its white expensive sheets and fluffy comforter.

Scattered sheets of Xeroxed paper are gathered around his relaxed frame on the soft sheets, with several in his hand as he reads them.

“You are not going to fall asleep reading those damned passages again, are you?” Caleb asks, “Please do not.”

“No. No.”

“You have for the past few nights,” Caleb says, “Remember?”

Madison nods his head but reads on, his nose buried in the loose papers.

As Madison looks to the naked man, his partner of 11 years, his cock responds to that epitome of masculine perfection that stands in the doorway. The longer he stares at Caleb, the harder, the harder his cock pulses and grows.

“You’re blonde Eiffel Tower between those hairy legs of yours,” Caleb says, “Makes my ass wet for it to be inside of me.”

Madison lets his hand glide to the towering 12 inches that point northward between his thighs.

“Mmmm,” Caleb says, “How did you grand pop come up with the name, Steeple Ease?”

Caleb lets his left hand wander to his own cock, smearing the leaking juice across his swollen red knob.

The more Caleb stares at Madison sprawled out in the bed with the cock-tower raising-up from between his legs, his own cock, begins to mirror that of Madison’s.

“I read that earlier…here it is, I think,” Madison says, as he lets his right hand find ‘the swell’ between his legs and gently strokes it in bated rhythm with Caleb.

Caleb walks from the doorframe, of the bathroom, to Madison and sits on the side of the bed, next to Madison, with one leg, drooping down onto the floor and the other near Madison’s outstretched legs. As close, he can be without mounting his lover.

***

The grunts and moans fill the afternoon air as they scale the sandy bluff, before eventually reaching and standing atop the level ground above the river.

There is a sea of tall grasses of various plant species in clusters on the fertile plain atop the white sandy bluff.

“It is as I thought. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I can see a house here among the trees and these beautiful grasses. ”

Matthew surveys the land before him. There are majestic oaks that dot the land, along with dogwoods and smatterings of palms and palmettos on the fringe of these tall windswept reeds.

“This is paradise! Pure unadulterated paradise,” Matthew says with overwhelming joy.

“It is beautiful,” Caleb says, “I will whole heartily agree with you, Matthew. We have to find you a viable water source. We passed by a waterfall before we rounded that bend and found you this place. Maybe we can find the headwaters?”

“Let’s walk back a piece and see what we can find.”

The men trudge back towards the dense copse of trees that outline this spacious prairie.

“Whatever you say, whatever you say, Matthew Madison ‘Mad Dog’ Converse, “Tobias smirks.

“Did you really just call me ‘Mad Dog’? Do they call me ‘Mad Dog’?””

“No, no, they do not, but I do,” Tobias smirks, again, as he reaches up and roughly cups one of Matthew’s sweaty butt cheeks in his hand, “That is one firm backside, Matthew.”

Each man is dressed in a pair of buckskin britches, and a long billowy cotton sleeved shirts, tucked deep into the homemade pants. There are sweat stains throughout these pants and shirts, each man flaps the loose flimsy material with their hard-earned calloused fingers, creating a faux fan to cool their heated bodies. There is a musket draped over each man’s shoulder, along with his black gunpowder horns and their handmade lead buckshot along with other necessary implements needed on this trek.

Tobias is in a floppy reed hat, while Matthew is in a McLeod cap, of his mother’s native Scotland. They are practically twins, in their attire, except for the headgear they are wearing, which easily separates the pair of men.

“Brother, it is hot! From the pits of hell this heat must originate.”

“Yes, it is Tobias, yes it is.”

The men travel northward, through the dense thicket of the virgin unspoiled Southern frontier.

“Shhh. Shhh.”

“What? What, Tobias, what do you hear?”

Each man stops, the rustling leaves pause under their steps as they dip and bob between the low hanging branches of the various species of trees that they are treading through, fighting the limbs in their own personal battle with the wooden giants.

“It is water, fresh running water. I can hear it.”

The battle becomes more embittered as they fight to get closer to the body of water just beyond their reach.

They emerge beside a tranquil pond and a babbling brook that appears to empty into the Savannah River further to the south.

“This is glorious, this is glorious,” Tobias says, as he lifts the flintlock and knife and other gear over his head and places it carefully on the virgin earth, “It is out of some child’s imagined fairy tale, yet unwritten.”

Matthew does a similar action and props his wares against the weeping willow tree in the shadows of the solitary pond.

“I need a swim, how ‘bout you, Matthew? How ‘bout you?”

Matthew nods his head. He does too.

***

“I thought you said that you were coming to the part where the name of this estate became Steeple Ease,” Caleb asks.

“I am getting there; it was at the pond, where it was named. The name of this wondrous estate,” answers Madison.

Caleb lets his fingers dance down the muscled leg of his lover. Each digit dances along its merry way as they creep closer and ever closer to his enflamed groin. Caleb travels to the furry man-nest between Madison’s legs and tightly grips the base of the steely-hard Eiffel-Tower-like fleshy appendage that aims its throbbing bulbous knob to the plaster ceiling.

“Ohhhh,” sighs Madison as Caleb strokes the knob, “Ohhhhh.”

Madison squirms and opens his legs wider to accommodate Caleb’s agile fierce fingers.

“Keep doing that,” Madison instructs with an air of command in his voice and Caleb obeys.

“I intent to.”

Madison reads on but stops short, when he realizes what this particular journal entry is detailing and is happening with each sentence he reads.

“This is the same pond that we swam in today and in, almost every day since we first met, My Dear Sweet Caleb.”

“Uhuh, uhuh,” Caleb says as he leans in, hovering his mouth over the weeping cock of his beloved, before he devours it.

***

They fling their sweat soaked headgear to the ground, each piece lands next to the others. They remove their leggings and homemade moccasin-like footwear, each ‘shoe’ made lovingly by his sister and Tobias’ future wife-to-be. They land on top of the discarded headwear.

Matthew and Tobias grab the suspenders that are holding up their buckskins and pull them from their shoulders. The britches fall to the ground. Each man is standing in their long-shirts, their privates, still covered by the long drape-like shirt, hidden from the view of the companion that stands less than an arm’s length away. The shirts are the last to be removed but they are now on the sweet earth along with the other garb.

Underneath, both men are standing in their naked splendor but now they are standing naked in this unspoiled Eden.

Tobias is the taller of the two. He stands two inches over his good friend and confident and future owner of this sprawling property.

Tobias, like Matthew, is blonde with flowing locks, the curls cover his head, his Scottish ancestry, apparent, along with his Viking blood that courses through his body. Although, Tobias is unaware that he is a bastard of a Scottish landlord. He is well veined and muscular. The years of hard work on the boats in the docks of Britain have left their mark on this sturdy young man. A dense growth of mature man-fur blankets his muscular frame, just as it does on the shorter Matthew.

Matthew is of the stronger personality of the two. He stands and spreads his feet apart, planting his feet in soft soil on the pond’s bank, just like the majestic oaks that dot the landscape on the edge of this pond that he now declares to be his and his alone.

Between both men’s legs are the hissing serpents of Eden. There is no Eve, nearby, as neither man wants one with them.

The heads nestled in the fleshy skin that covers the weeping snake but their hands go there to awaken their unbridled monster and pep them back to life. They both roar to attention from their stirrings and peek out from the fleshy-skin covering their cocks.

“This is so much better,” Tobias asks, “To have our cocks a-stirred in this New World. This is what I find glorious.”

Tobias lets both hands glide to his spear-like appendage. Against the wishes of the Church of England, he tugs on what has grown since he shed the burdensome clothes.

“Ahhh,” he sighs, as the stirring magnifies and his uncut abundance hisses to life.

Tobias gazes over at Matthew. Matthew, unaware of the eyes upon him, turns and lays down, the water, up to his knees and the soft white sand, which is squishy between his arse cheeks, makes a noise as he rocks back and forth.

From Matthew’s midsection, his penis has responded to the warm Georgia air, and points, with a slight bent, to the blue skies, high above them, through the droopy limbs of the willow.

“You said that this is your church,” Tobias says, “I see what your steeple is, just like the Lutheran church we saw as we passed it on the river.”

Matthew looks to his groin, his cock, pointing upwards, his bollocks, rolling in the warm Georgia heat and the cool water of the pond. He tenses between the cool and the warm.

“That’s it.” Matthew says with a rush of inspiration.

“That’s what?”

“What I shall call this place that I will build.”

“What?” Tobias pleads.

“Come here, Tobias.”

He does.

Tobias stands over Matthew. From Matthew’s perspective, he can see the deep blonde hairs that fill and line his friend’s muscular ass.

“Ease down, my dear Tobias.”

He does.

“Ease down upon my steeple as it points to the heavens.”

Tobias goes further, his ass puckering in bated anticipation of the entry.

Matthew sighs as the tightened pressure squeezes and grips his slithering fleshy-snake. Matthew’s chest heaves and a ring of perspiration, beads out on his forehead.

“Steeple Ease.”

“Yes, Steeple Ease is what I shall call my home. Steeple Ease.”

Matthew smiles, pleased with himself at his creativity and ease of which is manor will be named.

Tobias’ ass is snaked by the willing serpent that juts from the thighs of his longtime friend.

***

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

Madison yells, excitement and shock, intermixed in his exclamation.

“Does it say that?” Caleb asks, “Does it use those words?”

“In so many carefully orchestrated ways, it does,” Madison, explains, “That is what he writes. Did they fuck beside Converse Pond?”

They look to the painting above the mantle of the fireplace in their bedroom. It is of Matthew Madison Converse and Tobias Wentworth. Both men are older, the portrait painted after the death of Matthew’s sister and Tobias’ wife, who died in childbirth. There is a sparkle in both of their matching azure blue eyes. Today they would call these men, clones. Back then, nothing would be said, as nothing  would be acknowledged.

Caleb says, “I thought that picture was creepy, before, now, I like it. I like it. You are more like your grandfather, it seems, besides the physical resemblance.”

“It appears, so,” answers Madison with a wide smile on his scruffy face.

“I want you to fuck me, Madison.”

“I want too. I want too,” Madison says as Caleb climbs on the bed and mounts the steeple between his legs.

The room is filled with loud moans and groans the minute Caleb rides Madison’s cock like a jackhammer.

THE END