I was supposed to be at my desk that afternoon, workin’ through the accounts Papa left me columns of cotton yields and supply ledgers that blurred together like river mud. The late sun poured through the tall windows of my upstairs room in the big house, warm on the back of my neck. But my eyes weren’t on the numbers. They were fixed on the flower gardens below.
Isaac was down there, shirtless in the heat. The overseer had set him to weeding and trimming the beds Mama loved so much. The roses, gardenias, the big clumps of daylilies along the brick path. Sweat shone across his broad black shoulders and down the deep groove of his spine. Every time he bent, the muscles in his back rolled and flexed under that smooth dark skin. His trousers hung low on his hips, clingin’ to the powerful curve of his ass and the thick thighs that strained the fabric. When he straightened up to wipe his forehead with the back of his arm, I could see the hard planes of his chest, the small dark nipples, the way his belly tightened with the work. That heavy cock of his made a long, soft outline against the front of his pants, shiftin’ whenever he moved. The cock that I had an achin’ for.
My own cock stirred hard and fast behind the desk. I pushed the chair back a little, unbuttoned my trousers with shakin’ fingers, and pulled myself free. Already thick and stiff, the pale length of it stood up against my stomach, the head flushed and leakin’. I spit in my palm and wrapped my fist around it, eyes never leavin’ Isaac. I stroked slow at first, matchin’ the rhythm of his work. Watchin’ those strong arms pull weeds, watchin’ the sweat trickle down between his shoulder blades and disappear into his waistband. I imagined runnin’ my tongue along that same path, tastin’ the saltiness of him. My grip tightened. I worked myself faster, thumbin’ over the sensitive head each time, bitin’ my lip so I wouldn’t make a sound that might carry downstairs. The sight of his black body movin’ so easy and powerful in the sun had me throbbin’. I came quick and hard, spillin’ thick white over my knuckles and onto the polished floorboards, stiflin’ a groan against my wrist. After, I cleaned up quiet with a handkerchief, heart still racin’, and forced my eyes back to the ledgers. But all I could think about was the pond.
Night couldn’t come soon enough.
When the house finally settled and the last lamp was out, I slipped down the back stairs in just my shirt and trousers, boots in hand till I reached the grass. The air was thick and sweet with honeysuckle. I followed the path by moonlight, past the kitchen garden and the quiet quarters, until the big willow rose up ahead, its long branches trailin’ like a green curtain around the edge of the pond.
Isaac was already there, leanin’ against the trunk in the shadows. He’d left his shirt off. The moonlight painted silver across the dark planes of his chest and shoulders. He straightened when he saw me, eyes soft but hungry.
“Been waitin’,” he murmured.
I didn’t answer with words. I stepped in close and we kissed, deeply. My hands goin’ straight to the front of his trousers. He helped me push them down. That big black cock sprang free, already half-hard, heavy and thick, the dark skin stretched smooth over the length of it. I dropped to my knees on the cool grass without a second thought, the willow branches brushin’ my shoulders like they were keepin’ our secret.
I took him in both hands first, strokin’ slow, feelin’ him swell and harden fully under my fingers until he was standin’ rigid and proud. He was longer and thicker than my own. The broad head already shiny at the tip. Then I leaned in and dragged my tongue up the underside, from the heavy balls all the way to the crown. Isaac’s breath caught. I opened my mouth and took him in, stretchin’ my lips around that thick shaft, the taste of clean skin and salt fillin’ me. I sank down as far as I could, cheeks hollerin’, tongue workin’ along the underside while I sucked.
He groaned low, one big hand settlin’ gentle in my hair. I bobbed my head, wet and eager, slidin’ my mouth up and down that hard black cock, takin’ more each time until the head nudged the back of my throat. Spit ran down my chin. I used one hand to stroke what I couldn’t fit, the other cuppin’ and squeezin’ his tight balls. Balls that were black as midnight. The wet sounds of my suckin’ mixed with the night frogs and the soft lap of the pond. Isaac’s hips started to rock a little, careful not to choke me, but I wanted it. I wanted every inch of him.
“Beau… I’m close,” he warned, voice rough.
I only sucked harder, faster, hollerin’ my cheeks and workin’ my tongue under the ridge of that swollen head. His cock pulsed heavy on my tongue. A second later he came with a deep, quiet groan, thick ropes of hot cum floodin’ my mouth. I swallowed greedily, takin’ every pulse, every spurt, the bitter-salt taste of him coatin’ my throat as I drank it all down. I kept suckin’ gently through it, milkin’ him until he was softenin’ and oversensitive, then let him slip free with a last slow lick.
I looked up at him from my knees, lips wet, breathin’ hard. Isaac’s hand stroked my hair once, tender. Neither of us spoke for a long minute. The willow hid us, the pond kept our secret, and for that little while the rest of the world, the plantation, the plans, the laws, felt a long way off.
The days dragged like a plow through dry clay. A whole week without the pond, without Isaac’s hands or mouth or that thick black cock of his. The overseer kept the hands workin’ late on the far fields, and Papa had me at his side every evenin’ goin’ over the books or ridin’ the boundaries. At night I’d lie in my bed hard and achin’, rememberin’. The heavy feel of Isaac’s cock on my tongue. The hot, velvet-smooth over iron-hard, that rich dark skin stretchin’ as he swelled. The clean sweat-and-man smell of him when I buried my face against his groin and into his dark pubic hair. The thick, salty-bitter taste of his cum floodin’ my mouth and slidin’ warm down into my belly, leavin’ me full and quiet for a little while. I’d stroke myself slow in the dark, tryin’ to chase that feelin’ again, but my own hand was a poor substitute. By Saturday I was near outta my mind with wantin’.
That night the house finally slept. I slipped out the same back way, heart hammerin’. Isaac was waitin’ under the big willow, moonlight catchin’ the sheen of sweat on his bare shoulders. We didn’t waste words. Clothes came off quick. My shirt and trousers as well his ‘till we stood naked in the soft grass, the long green branches hangin’ all around us like a private room. His body was a study in power: broad chest, hard stomach, thick thighs, and that heavy cock already risin’ dark and thick against his belly. Mine stood pale and stiff, leakin’ at the tip just from the sight of him.
He kissed me then, first time our mouths met proper, slow and deep, tastin’ of the night air. His big hands roamed my back, my ass, pullin’ me tight against him so our cocks rubbed together, hard and hot. When he turned me gentle toward the willow trunk, I went willin’. I braced my hands on the rough bark, legs spread. He spit in his palm, worked it over that big black cock, then more between my cheeks, one thick finger pressin’ careful into me. The stretch burned at first. I’ve only had my one finger inside me before. The burn melted into somethin’ deeper, fuller. A second finger, scissorin’, openin’ me. I pushed back, breathin’ hard.
“Easy, Beau,” he murmured against my ear. “I got you.”
Then the blunt head of his cock pressed against me. Thick. So damn thick. He pushed slow, steady, the wide head poppin’ past the tight ring of muscle. I bit my lip against the sharp stretch, feelin’ every inch of that rich black cock sinkin’ deeper into my virgin hole. The burn was fierce, then it shifted, turned into a heavy, overwhelmmin’ fullness as he bottomed out, balls pressed tight against me. I was stuffed full of him. It was hotter and thicker than anything I’d ever imagined in my lonely nights.
He held still a long moment, lettin’ me adjust, one arm wrapped around my chest, the other strokin’ my hip. When he started to move it was slow at first. Long, deep strokes that dragged every ridge and vein of his cock along my insides. The pain faded into pure heat. I pushed back to meet him. He fucked me harder then, the wet slap of skin on skin echoin’ soft under the willow, his breath rough against my neck. Every thrust drove that thick black cock deep, hittin’ a place inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes. My own cock bounced neglected, drippin’ onto the grass. He reached around and stroked me in time with his hips. It didn’t take long. I came hard, spurtin’ over his fist and the tree roots, my hole clampin’ tight around him. Isaac groaned and drove deep one last time, cock pulsed hard, floodin’ me with thick hot cum. Pulse after pulse until I felt it leakin’ out around his shaft and down my thighs. He stayed buried in me a while, breathin’, before pullin’ out slow. His cum trickled warm down my leg. I was no longer a virgin. I belonged to him in a way no church paper could ever touch.
