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Fucking Through Georgia Pt. 02

This is a long and complicated story set in America as it was plunging towards civil war in the mid eighteen hundreds. It is about one woman's efforts at preventing that war by using the only facility at her disposal, her body. Yes, Amanda Williams tries to fuck her way to avoiding the war.

A southerner by birth, but a yankee by beliefs and a European by sexual preferences Amanda forms sexual liasons with a Confederate politician and a Union general. She has torrid sex with both of them and some of their male and female compatriots as at the same time she tries to avoid drifting back into an incestuous relationship with her brother.

As the story covers a five year period recounting how Amanda's life changed and describing her efforts at changing history, it is best read in chronological order. However, it has been written in a style that makes each episode a standalone romp through American history.

*****

Fucking Through Georgia Part 2

One woman's efforts at preventing the Civil War by using sex.


Stopping at both Raleigh and Charleston for a night, the four hundred or so miles trip passed quite pleasantly. Adam met her at the Savannah train station.

"God he's handsome," she reminded herself, not having seen her brother for three years when he had visited her in London.

Adam had inherited his mother's artistic side and not the commercial nature of their father. Amanda had more commercial acumen, but was also an artist at heart. Both had taken on the warmth of their mother and not the harshness of their father.

Her brother had left the South, just as Amanda had. Following four years at Harvard, and graduating Phi Beta Kappa in fine arts and history, he could not bear the thought of being 'culturally buried' at the plantation. Additionally, he felt little affiliation with the South where he had been raised.

What with Florence's 'Yankee' propaganda during his childhood and the eight years he had spent in New York and Boston at school and university, his perspective, attitudes and whole range of views were far more in tune with Northern thinking than that of the South. He had never expected to return to the Deep South, other than on visits.

After Harvard, he had worked in an art gallery in Boston for a year or so, before moving to New York to join an eminent firm of artwork auctioneers. With the inheritance, he gained when granny O'Rourke, Florence's mother, had died ten years ago, he set up his own gallery on Madison Avenue right in the centre of Manhattan. Whilst it had enjoyed only varying levels of modest financial success, it had been absolutely fantastic as an entrance to, and a way of maintaining a position in, New York's social scene.

So, as Amanda and Samuel had been in London, Adam was in New York, right at the heart of the trendy, sophisticated, artistic and creative set.

He had studied at Harvard for four years from when he was twenty-two. Florence and granny O'Rourke had paid his fees, his father thinking that most education, other than business related subjects, was a waste of time and learning about art and history was totally pointless.

Adam loved the student way of life. The whole idea of education purely for enjoyment and for learning's sake appealed to his intellectual and creative philosophy. The partying, drinking and mild drug taking played to his hedonistic aspirations and the reasonably ready supply of sex satisfied the constant needs of his flesh.

It was at Harvard that he met Guy, a French Canadian also studying fine art. They got on well, they helped each other with their studies and partied together. They became almost inseparable and a force to be reckoned with by the increasing number of female students at the nearby Lasiter University for ladies. They went whoring for ladybirds as they were sometimes called together in downtown Boston in the area that later became known as the 'combat zone' and to the many opium dens around Quincy Market and the harbour.

They also had sex together!

It had been accidental. Neither had experienced gay sex before. Neither had really thought about it; it just didn't register with either of them that they would be attracted to another man. And in a way they weren't. It was the buzz, the turn on, the thrill, the adventure, the taboo and experiencing the forbidden that attracted them.

They were in Guy's apartment. They were discussing whether to go and smoke some opium or visit a nearby, upscale brothel.

"It's very cold outside, I think it might even snow." Guy said.

"Shall we stay in then?" Adam asked.

"Yes, shall we?"

"Why not, we've got some booze left." Adam said brightly, for they had been drinking brandy most of the afternoon. They were both slightly drunk.

"No dope though." Guy said gloomily.

"Or women." Adam commented.

"I'm getting fed up with whores, even those at the Craven," Guy responded, referring to the brothel they had thought of visiting.

"I know what you mean," Adam replied, walking over to where Guy was sitting on the floor in front of the blazing fire and poured more brandy into his friend's glass. He stood there in his tight, white breeches, no boots or socks and his lacy, white shirt undone almost all the way down the front, looking down at his similarly dressed friend. "They rarely turn out to be as good as they look," he added, loving the warmth from the fire on his thighs and stomach.

"No, but then I can't be bothered chasing the Lasiter bitches who lead you on then won't get their drawers off for you," Guy sneered.

Adam nodded as he slid down beside his friend on the floor, feeling an unexpected thrill as their legs touched. "Fucking women," he muttered, sipping his brandy and not moving away even though their hips were now also pressed together. He was well aware that he'd instigated the physical contact, but wasn't sure why. The trembling he felt inside also told him that Guy had made no effort to move away.

Instead, he laughed. "That used to be my hobby."

"What did?"

"Fucking women of course," Guy told him, flashing his eyes across at his friend. He and Adam often had this sort of cosy chat, but not with any physical contact between them.

"Who needs 'em?" Adam slurred, reaching up and pushing away the thick lock of black hair that continually fell over his eyes.

"Not us, mon ami," Guy said, casually resting his hand on his friend's leg, midway between his knee and groin. He hadn't meant to, had he? It was as if some sort of external force controlled it.

Adam shivered. It was as though a hot poker had been placed on his thigh. His whole body was tingling at the contact. Did Guy feel the same? Was his friend's cock twitching and starting to lengthen, just like his own? What the hell was happening?

For a while, neither spoke. Only the sound of their heavy breathing filled the otherwise empty air as they sipped their Cognac. Neither wanted to disturb the other and neither wanted the feelings to go away, but neither felt able to say or do anything. Something was happening between them, and neither would or could admit it.

They remained like that for some time, leaning back against a chesterfield, their legs stretched out towards the fire, their tight trousers emphasising their respectable bulges, their shirts open.

Guy's hand almost imperceptibly moved on Adam's leg, and then stopped. The sound of their heavy breathing increased as the possibilities slowly dawned on them both.

They both turned their heads at the same time. Their eyes met. They simply looked at each other, enquiringly on one hand, invitingly on the other. They didn't speak, neither could find the words to express their feelings, but somehow they communicated the same message to each other.

The feelings were not like those when with a girl. They didn't feel tenderness, they weren't seeking a sensitive, caring relationship. It was purely sexual.

But sexual of a sort neither had experienced before. They couldn't understand it nor could they explain it. That didn't matter. All that was of concern was satisfying this new found sexual inquisitiveness, giving vent to the adventure they felt and experiencing the buzz of going outside their sexuality comfort zone.

Guy's hand moved again, softly sliding up Adam's leg. Not all the way, not to where he wanted to put it and not to where Adam wanted it, but far enough to indicate his intent; sufficient so that, with just the merest further movement, the side of his hand would nestle against the bulge of his friend's balls. Adam's leg began to shake uncontrollably under his friend's touch.

In a croaky voice that Adam had never heard before, Guy suddenly broke the silence. "Would you like to remove your shirt, Adam?"

His words burst over Adam. They were simple words, but meant so much. They carried a reassuring message, telling his friend that their feelings, needs, desires and lust were in tune with one another.

"Why don't we both undress?" was Adam's reply. It surprised Guy. It surprised Adam, too. With it, he was accepting Guy's invitation to experiment with their sexuality.

***

"Hello darling," Amanda said, as she stepped down the steps from the train at the main station near to River Street, in Savannah.

"Amanda, it's so wonderful to see you. You look fantastic," Adam gushed to his sister.

She really did look wonderful, too. Her long, thick, chestnut-coloured hair that was piled up on top of her head, with ringlets falling down by her ears, neck and forehead was so different to the parted in the middle, austere look that was still popular in Boston and New York and of course around dreary Georgia.

The pale blue, silk dress with a wide hoop accentuated both her beauty and her body. The bodice was tight with a high neckline and a frilly collar that touched the bottom of her chin. It was pushed out in such erotic curves by the fullness of her breasts and by the way that her usual twenty-six inch waist was pinched in by her corset to a highly fashionable twenty-three inches.

That, together with her upright posture encouraged by her corset, exaggerated the size of his sister's breasts and the flair of her hips. My God, her figure looked so amazingly feminine. As they embraced and kissed, her full breasts squashed against his chest.

Adam was horrified to find himself becoming erect - surely that was all behind them?

They took a carriage to the Eliza Thompson Guest House in what had become known as the Garden District of Savannah. With the price of cotton on a seemingly endless upward trend, until the very recent slump, which most were terming a 'blip', Savannah had been booming. The cotton barons had latched onto the elegant squares and beautiful gardens of, what was considered to be, America's first 'planned' city and had built impressive mansions in the area.

Oglethorpe had set the scene well all those years ago.

They went to their rooms to rest after their travels and agreed to meet for dinner at seven. Right on the dot, Adam tapped on his sister's door. She was waiting for him in a similar style gown to that she'd worn on her arrival, but this was a pale, smoky pink.

His gaze immediately went straight to her magnificent, half-uncovered breasts.

In America, such a sight was something only shared by husbands and wives, and then usually with the lamps out. Yet for some time in Europe, the necklines of gowns, in the evening especially, had been dropping. In the set where Amanda had moved it was often only a few ruffles of lace that prevented the tops of a woman's areola being seen.

Adam had heard and had seen lithographs of European fashions, but had not realised just how extreme it had become.

Meeting his sister's eyes, it seemed she was almost flaunting her well-endowed swells at him. The familiar stirrings in his tight, tailored grey pin-stripe trousers returned and his mind went back to the times he had seen those breasts in all their wonderful female glory.

"As we have so many confidential topics to discuss Adam, I thought it would be preferable to dine in a private room, I hope you agree?" Amanda said as she walked out onto the landing in her voluminous hooped skirt. The bulk made it difficult for her to get through the door of her room and she gave one of her delightful giggles.

"Of course Amanda, whatever you say," he replied, smiling at her laugh. He remembered it so well, and it put him at ease, so he easily fell into the older sister, younger brother roles they had shared most of their lives.

They had a delightful dinner catching up on their lives, before moving onto discussing the plantation. Both agreed that they did not want to stay there permanently and would prefer to sell it as soon as possible.

"But can we with all that's going on?" Adam asked, swilling back more wine.

Amanda had no answer to that. They both knew how difficult that could be. "Let's wait and see when we get to Selby shall we?" she eventually replied thinking that it was a problem for tomorrow, not now.

"Yes of course," Adam replied, dreading the prospect of living on the plantation. The damn thing was miles away from anywhere that he would consider as 'civilisation.'

And that, of course, meant away from a social scene of parties, drinking, dope, girls, hookers and now, occasionally other men. Although he knew he was not homosexual, he was well aware he needed the buzz of a variety of sexual opportunities. His appetite for sex was huge and he was greedy, he was adventurous and he just could not get enough of anything and everything.

Yes, he knew that he could have an almost endless supply of black, slave women, but like the Boston hookers, they did not appeal.

He needed other things. The forbidden. Just like the one he'd found with Guy that marvellous snowy night all those years ago, but which he could recall as if it was yesterday.

***

In the pleasant, low eighty degrees temperature of Georgia in November, the thirty miles or so ride in the open top carriage to Meldrim was enjoyable, particularly as much of the way was alongside the lovely, slow flowing Ogeechee River with its abundance of birds and wonderful trees and plants.

'Mmmmm, maybe it's not so bad," Amanda found herself thinking, reluctantly.

They arrived at the plantation just before six in the evening, their excitement building as they drove up the oak lined half-mile drive from the road. It was, after all, where they had been born and had spent their childhoods.

Their earliest memories were mainly warm and comforting, but as each had developed more sophisticated approaches to life, so Selby Bluff had become somewhere they resented. And now they were back there!

The three floor, ten bedroomed mansion house had lain empty for several months and as the carriage pulled up outside they felt mixed emotions. Neither spoke as the driver opened the door and placed the steps for them to climb down. Both of them had been away so long they didn't know the man who had driven them, nor the footman who opened the door to the house.

It was only when the maids, cooks, and general helpers came out and lined up that they both recognised some of the family's slaves and servants.

Amanda had dressed conservatively, realising that London and European fashions had not yet reached New York and Boston, let alone Savannah. Last night had been a massive mistake. Although they ate in a private dining room and despite the guesthouse staff being as diplomatic as they could be, she was aware of their stares. The male waiters and the maitre'd could hardly contain themselves and when they sat on the balcony with some of the other guests, the eyes of the male guests seemed to be popping out.

The resultant stares from their mostly, austere looking wives had been too much for Amanda.

"I think we should go inside," she had said to Adam after just a few minutes of enduring the uncomfortable looks of disdain. She was not shy, but recognised that flashing so much of her bosom was wrong, or at least undiplomatic in this setting. 'Savannah was not ready for Amanda's tits yet' she laughed to herself as she and Adam retired to her room for a nightcap.

Although, beautifully appointed, the second floor room was quite small. It did, though, have French windows opening onto a tiny balcony, which really was not large enough to sit out on, especially in the latest fashion of huge hooped skirts. Instead, there were two chairs with a low table just in front of the open French windows. Within a few seconds, a rather aged waiter brought a jug of red wine and two glasses.

Adam stood and poured the drink as his sister, leaning forward a little, held her glass out for him. Even had he not wanted to, and he was not that shocked to find that he did, Adam could not have avoided seeing Amanda's deep cleavage. Her corset held her back ramrod straight, resulting in the slight forward incline of her body from the waist plunging her magnificent breasts forward. At the same, time the firm corset pushed them up and together, creating a beautifully enticing crease between.

The London fashion of having frilly lace along the neckline of the dress, cut as daringly low as possible, meant that from some angles an onlooker was afforded a glimpse of the lady's areola, something that just never happened in America. Last evening, though, it had happened in Savannah and Adam had found it enormously difficult to tear his eyes away from the patches of pink, the deep crease and the expanse of powdered, soft and yielding flesh that swayed deliciously as his sister moved. Even though they were more covered tonight, the swell in her dress and her cleavage were quite spectacular.

Amanda was only too well aware that Adam was staring at her breasts. She knew that he had been staring at them at every opportunity since she had walked down the steps from the train. Smiling, she reminded herself that he had actually been staring at them for years, but she was used to that for many men did just that. In all honesty, she told herself, it was not something that worried her unduly and in fact like many other ample bosomed women she quite enjoyed it.

She was well aware that in the time since they had last been together in London, her breasts had grown into wonderful, round, peaches. They were like magnets with men, whose eyes invariable greeted them even as their mouths said hello to her eyes whilst their lips touched the back of her hand.

Some part of her had wondered if Adam would be the same when she saw him again. She was well aware of his fetish for breasts, any breasts, but especially hers. The way she had cradled his head to them as she comforted him seemed a long time ago. So did the way, in their late teens, he would continually stare at them, hypnotised by her twin delights. That was not all, of course, and she gave a soft sigh as she hurriedly put to the back of her mind the other things that had happened between them.

It took some time to greet all the slaves and staff, particularly nanny Goldie who had looked after both of them when they were young. Then they met with Overseer Nathan Stevens. The fifty-odd-year old had been born on the plantation and had worked there all his life. He had been their father's right hand man and had been running it since he had died.

It took some time for him to bring them both up to date with the plantation business. The financial side of it was okay, he said, but was inevitably deteriorating due to the cotton yield per acre declining in recent years.

"The slaves work slower," he explained, with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

A quick tour followed. It was one that struck apprehension into the brother and sister. The clear signs of neglect would never have been allowed when they were younger. Uncut lawns, overgrowing shrubs, white fences where the paint was peeling and holes in the roadways round the estate, all spoke volumes.
"There just isn't the income or profit any more," Stevens advised.

They would have their work cut out to make this work, let alone sell it for top dollar, Amanda was thinking.

***

Over the next few weeks they familiarised themselves with the slaves, the staff and the plantation, learning as much about the business side of it as possible.

"We need to reach a decision by Christmas," Amanda had insisted to Adam. They had agreed that they had three options: keep running it and live there, be absentee owners or sell it.

"The heavy planting season is late January, so that's our deadline," Amanda firmly told him.

Of course, it didn't work out like that. How could such a far-reaching decision be made in such a short time?

Not with them having to re-familiarise themselves with the area and their neighbours, the modest social life of Meldrim and the whirl of that in Savannah. Not with Thanksgiving, Christmas and the New Year to celebrate. Not with them having to learn about the running of a plantation that had simply been taken for granted all those years. And not, especially, with them being in the South, where time almost stood still and change took so long.

It was soon February and well into the planting season before the subject came up again. Mister Stevens had continued to run efficiently the hands-on work, but an air of dissatisfaction across the land was forcing their hand.

Throughout the spring, both of them came to realise that the rumbles of discontent from the Yankees were very serious indeed. Their affiliation was very much in that camp, rather than with their southern brethren. Wisely, they kept that very much to themselves, but it did cast a shadow over them that was difficult to remove.

Both brother and sister had maintained correspondence with friends and fellow students from their times in the north, and with Amanda's contacts in Europe. It was from those sources, rather than the people they mixed with in Georgia, that they learned just how seriously the north considered the slavery problem, which was rather 'brushed under the carpet' in the states below the Mason Dixon line.

It was Amanda's suggestion to take a trip to the north, to experience at first hand the feeling that was building up and find out more about what they should do with Selby Bluff. Although they were both dreading the enormously depressing humidity and heat of the summer, they knew that they should be at Selby Bluff for the organising and harvesting of the crop. That dictated that they needed to be back at the plantation by early June.

***

Amanda and Adam had started planning their trip after the New Year celebrations. They had indicated in the extensive correspondence they maintained with their northern-based friends their intentions about the trip and had gradually agreed these up by using the recently launched telegraph system, which was an amazing aid to speeding up communications.

They had decided to go firstly to Washington DC, a five hundred mile three day train trip with an overnight stay in Raleigh, North Carolina. Both had friends in the capital, several of whom were in the House and two in the Senate. Their itinerary allowed for a five-day stay before they took on the extra two hundred miles to New York. They hadn't planned completely how long they would stay, but expected it to be ten days or so before going on to Boston, where they anticipated staying another ten days or so.

Although the recent introduction of steel rails had speeded up travel, with some trains now reaching almost fifty miles per hour, the number of miles they could cover in a day rarely exceeded two hundred and fifty, and that was without breakdowns. The steam engines were greedy for water, wood and coal fuel and generally, at least two stops a day were necessary.

A few trains on the longer routes were experimenting with bedrooms on the trains and traveling through the night, but still most trains tended to stop overnight with the passengers being checked into hotels or guesthouses.

Booking the tickets turned into a nightmare. All the railroads they had to use were fairly small, localised businesses rarely crossing state boundaries. Hence, simply to get from Savannah to Washington DC, they had to use five different railroads and that problem was magnified as they booked the rest of the trip up the east coast. They did not book the return trip for they had not decided whether to make that by train or boat. The thought of a boat trip conjured up memories of Captain Jarvis for Amanda making her feel more inclined to that mode of travel. Once more she was badly missing regular sex.

Eventually they had it all arranged and they were both able to send out confirmation telegrams to their contacts in each of the three cities.

The need to return by the first week in June, the actual travelling and the time they required in each city, necessitated their departure in the second week in April. That gave them plenty of time, with around twenty non-travelling days in which to conduct their various items of business and their social duties.

In addition to the friends in common that they would be meeting, each had their own plans. Adam was excited at the prospect of more contact with Guy, and all that entailed, while Amanda had her own needs to take care of. Yes, there were several female friends she would be meeting, but it was the old flames who were on her mind. Her plans to take at least one other lover while at the Selby Bluff plantation had not come to fruition, and her liaison with Captain Richard Jarvis seemed a long time ago now. Amanda was not used to being sexually frustrated and she was determined to do something about it, both short and longer-term.

Until she began discussing slavery with others, she had not really realised just what a terrible situation it was. Away from it in the more genteel environment of Europe, it was easy to forget, or ignore, the awful situation of the slaves in her homelands. However, being confronted by it on a daily basis, she found herself appalled by the fact that one person could 'own' another, let alone the thirty or so she did.

She hated both the concept and the reality of slavery.

As she and Adam planned their trip and talked about the plantation, they were delighted that their views on what was becoming a massive problem in their country were so similar. They were also happy to be working together on planning the trip; it was like when they were children and it cemented the closeness they had both been feeling since their return.

Sitting in what was now a 'casual' sitting room, but which had once been Amanda's bedroom, Adam was explaining how awful it was actually purchasing slaves in the auctions. As the male 'owner' of the plantation, he and Nathan Stevens were involved in the process every month or so.

As they discussed their slave situation, Amanda was seated behind a small desk where she had been completing some correspondence. Adam was sitting in a high backed chair just off to one side from her. He had removed his jacket, Amanda had removed the hoop from her dress to facilitate sitting at the desk.

"It's just terrible to see the poor wretches who are sold at the auctions" he told her, adding. "They are so scared, just like trapped animals."

"What about those who have been here at Selby for some time?" she asked, glancing across at her brother.

"Well, clearly they aren't as scared, but they do look like the walking dead, as if they have no life."

Amanda glanced at her sensitive brother and could see that he was close to tears. "Well, in truth, they don't have a life do they?" she responded with a grimace. "And I can see this whole process wears you down. Look, Adam, why don't you let me do it next time?"

"No. No Amanda, you can't," He instantly responded, a look of shock registering in his eyes.

"What you mean I can't?" his sister immediately replied for she felt she could do just about anything! "Of course I can."

"Well of course you could," Adam told her, realising she felt insulted by his comment. "It's not that, Amanda, you can't because they're all male there."

His sister's eyes shot up. "So?" she asked, in that defiant way of hers.

Adam got up and stood beside his sister. He tenderly placed his arm round her shoulder and bent down so he looked up into her eyes. His hand slipped from her shoulders to hold her arm near her elbow and his bent knee pressed against her silk skirt and through that against her leg; she was wearing a loose dress without hoops. She didn't move. They stared at each other.

"Amanda, have you heard of the term 'shuck'?"

"Yes, vaguely, but I can't recall it, what does it mean?"

"Well I think there are several definitions."

"Oh yes, isn't it a shell or a husk of something, or is it a nut?"

"Yes that is one definition, but another is 'to shuck your trousers down"

Amanda gave her delicious little giggle before replying. "Couldn't appeal to me then?"

Adam was hesitant in his response. "Well yes, it could."

Her face softened. This was becoming interesting. "How?"

"Well if, for instance, if you were with a lover."

She snorted. "Yes brother and chance would be a fine thing!"

Adam laughed. "Hmmm, yes I know what you mean. It is a rather celibate area we live in isn't it?" He decided it would be better not to mention that at least once a week he rode into Savannah to visit the numerous whore houses on River Street, near the port. Nor that, in addition, he was fucking a young plantation slave girl almost daily.

That was information his sister did not need to know.

"Very," Amanda replied, recalling so vividly some of the last times they were in this room together. They were both in their late teens then, and full of sexual curiosity and adventure.

"Okay," Adam ploughed on, looking at his sister's voluminous chest, feeling his knee pressed against her leg and gripping her arm a little tighter. Damn! He felt his erection starting. "Let's just say that you were in the process of undressing for him."

"Yes," Amanda said tightly, feeling uncertain and yet had an undeniable tinge of excitement as to where this might lead.

They had made a pact all those years ago, when they were both leaving to go to university, that they had to stop their 'unacceptable behaviour' and that they would never discuss with anyone or between themselves what had happened several times in this very room.

"And you might," Adam huskily continued, his mind racing at the mental pictures his words were conjuring. "Undress for him."

Amanda's mind returned to Richard again and she thought of undressing for him and making love to him. A little shiver of desire shot through her at the memory.

Adam saw the faraway look in her eye. Could she possibly be recalling the times in this very room when he had seen her naked? Damn, his cock was almost at full mast now! Thankfully, the folds of his shirt, breeches and woollen trousers stopped it rearing up his stomach.

Amanda's gaze found her brother's face again. He looked as flushed as she was feeling. God, she so needed a man! Surely Adam wasn't trying to discuss their sexual experiences again? Not after their pact not to ever speak of it?

"Yes, yes I might," she said rather sharply. "So?"

"Well, as part of that you might push your drawers down as he looked at you." Adam said. His voice was becoming even huskier as the vision of his sister doing exactly that with him sent shock waves of desire through him. He could not get the image of Amanda, bare breasted, pushing her knickers down in preparation for being fucked. And being fucked by him, her brother!!

"Adam," Amanda said, moving her leg so his knee no longer pressed against it. This was becoming uncomfortable and she needed to draw the conversation to a conclusion. "What is this all about?"

"Well, dear sister, another word for pushing trousers, drawers, breeches or anything like that down, is shucking."

"Yes, I understand that. But what is your point, Adam?"

Her brother smiled knowingly. "My point is, Amanda, that at the slave auctions, they all have to do that."

"What, push their trousers down?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"Absolutely! And stand there stark naked!"

The gulp she took indicated Amanda's shock, though she did her best to disguise it. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? So that the potential buyers can view their genitals."

Amanda shook her head. This was becoming even stranger. She didn't want to show her ignorance, yet had to ask the question. "And why would they want to do that?"

"Well," he hesitated, "it's generally believed that the larger the man is, the better and more frequently he will reproduce and thus, yes he'll breed more powerful, stronger slaves."

"But... but... that's rubbish Adam," Amanda spluttered, quite outraged at the idea.

Her brother let out a long laugh. "Well, you and I know that Amanda, but remember where we are. It's not New York, Boston or Europe."

"Jesus, I had forgotten how primitive the thinking of the deep, deep south can be," she gasped, holding a hand to her bosom.

"And... that's why you couldn't go."

Amanda smiled as Adam stood up, his bent knee beginning to ache. "I don't know Adam," she provocatively toyed with him. "Maybe that's why I should go? I might enjoy it."

"Now, now," he replied, feeling his cock jump at her words. He had to get himself under control! "No naughty thoughts like that."

Meaningfully, Amanda dropped her gaze down her brother's body to the bulge that was now only too obvious to them both. Her eyes returned to meet his.

"No Adam," she said quietly. "No naughty thoughts."

"Sorry," he replied, turning away in embarrassment. 'Why did his sister have to look, and behave, so sexily?' he so often asked himself.

***

"You will be coming back won't you?" Emilene asked, her large eyes almost pleading as she spoke.

"Of course we will, it's our home, we own it."

"But you want to sell it don't you?" Her voice was hoarse with fear.

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone says so."

The nineteen-year-old Emilene nudged Adam as they lay together in the narrow bed in the small cabin in the grounds of the overseer's house, which was perfect for their frequent liaisons.

The slave girl had been born on the plantation and had never been away from it.

It was all she knew. Both of her parents were dead and she had worked in the house all of her life graduating from a kitchen skivvy to a general maid helping out the housekeeper, cook, valet or butler as required. Her duties were varied, but included light cleaning, serving table occasionally, recently arranging Miss Amanda's clothes - and having sex with anyone Nathan decided!

Many plantations now had several 'Emilene's'. The plantations were usually in isolated areas, where extra-marital sex that was almost a mandatory desire for most men was difficult to arrange and even more complicated to execute.

That had led to the haphazardly organised system of sexually available slave girls; almost like a prostitute network, except they didn't get paid.

'I own 'em so I can fuck 'em', was the principle many slave owners adopted.'

George La Salle, Amanda's father, had established the system at Selby. Nathan Stevens was happy to continue it. After all, they served his needs, too. Girls were earmarked as possibilities at an early age and then gradually introduced to their 'new trade.' Each was allocated certain grades identifying the levels of staff and visitor who would use them. They would be fed and looked after better than the other slaves, given lighter duties and they never had to pick cotton for that would ruin the softness of their hands and fingers. That is as long as they did as they were told, which essentially was to be fucked by whoever the boss and his henchmen decided.

George had been quite a visionary in establishing this way of using the younger female slaves. It prevented many of the previous high number of rapes, not that anyone really cared about them. These were only slave girls, after all! But they were unnecessary problems when an upset, father, husband or boy-friend wanted revenge and frequent flogging and hangings did little for slave morale.

The process also reduced disease, and, most importantly gave the white men a ready source of sex. All in all, it was easy to justify as being to everyone's advantage.

Nathan had been saving Emilene. Yes, of course he'd had sex with her, but then that was his right. But until Adam returned, only a chosen few others had tasted her favours.

"I have a gift for you Adam," he had told the young man as the two of them were sipping bourbon on the porch of the overseer's house one evening. Adam had been back a few weeks and Nathan felt confident in raising the subject.

"What is it?" the curious part owner asked.

"Follow me," Nathan said with a grin, puffing on his clay pipe as he led Adam into his house. He took him along a short corridor to a back staircase, just inside a door from the outside, and up the narrow staircase onto a landing with three doors. He knocked on one and then unlocked it. Holding the door open he let Adam go past him into the room.

Only the moonlight shining through the wide-open window covered by a thin muslin curtain provided any light. The large bed dominated the room and once his eyes became accustomed to the dark, Adam saw a black face with big eyes on the pillow and the outline of a body under the sheet.

Nathan went up to the bed and took hold of the sheet. "Adam, this is Emilene. We have been saving her for your return." He whipped the sheet away from the frightened girl. "Emilene meet Mister Adam."

As Emilene tried to cover her nakedness, she whispered. "Hello, Mister Adam." She was young, but not too young not to realise what an honour this was. No other slave girl was being offered to the young owner.

"Hello Emilene," Adam said, almost drooling at the lovely curvaceous body revealed before him.

Adam fucked the young black woman three times that first night, and almost daily over the next three months. Only his visits to the brothels in Savannah, in search of some variety, gave the girl some relief, although, truth be known Emilene enjoyed her sex with him.

He had told her about the trip that Amanda and he were planning, and that had worried the naive young slave girl. She had got used to 'seeing' Mister Adam most every day and, in her own way, was in love with him. She knew she would miss him, and the sex But she took some comfort from the fact that whilst he was away, Nathan would make her suck his cock most nights. It made her feel special, to be chosen by her masters like that!

"I will miss you, Mister Adam," she told her lover, as he stroked her youthfully luscious body.

She was quite slim, about one hundred and twenty five pounds and was around five feet six inches tall. Originating from the far West of Africa near to the equator, her skin was very black and wonderfully shiny, giving the appearance, almost, that she polished it. Although Adam had had sex with many black slave girls before leaving Selby, none had such a smoothness to their flesh as Emilene. That first time when they had fucked all night, he spent ages simply running his fingertips, lips and tongue over her 'marble like' black skin.

In keeping with her African forbears, she had a fairly wide, but not unattractive nose and full, voluptuous lips that, when any red blooded male looked at them, put only one thought into their mind, to have them wrapped round his cock. The little minx knew that too, and was pleased that she'd perfected the art. When her masters shot their tributes between her sucking lips, it was like being given a present.

Although her breasts were small, they were beautifully rounded and pert and were capped by dark, brown, hugely prominent nipples. Her stomach was flat and she had a good thatch of black, very crinkly pubic hair, through which Adam loved to run his tongue. Even the way some of the wiry strands of hair stuck between his teeth was erotic.
Emilene's legs were a little on the chunky side, particularly her upper thighs, but they were not so big that they rubbed together. They felt wonderful when she wrapped them around her master's back and even more so when round his neck.

Whilst most parts of her body excited most men, it was her wonderfully firm ass that was her crowning glory, and which most thrilled Adam. Rounded, full, taut, voluptuous, Rubenesque were just a few of the descriptions that came to his mind. Each beautifully symmetrical cheek flared out from just beneath her waist and formed an irresistibly attractive half-orb. Between them, a deep chasm of such suggestive eroticism was created that surely no man could resist plunging his fingers, tongue, lip or cock into it.

Adam was absolutely no exception and he spent hours fondling and caressing those ultra-smooth globes. Of course it couldn't and didn't stop with merely caressing. It had to go further, there was simply no way that it couldn't. And tonight was the night!

"Lay on your front Emi," he told her, determined to give her something special to remember him by before he left on his long trip.

Compliantly she did as asked. She had long ago learned never to question any of her master's commands.

Since he had started 'visiting' her, she had discovered a whole new perspective to sex. It did not have to be rushed, it did not have to be all one way and it did not have to be rough, hard and fast. With Adam it was slow, gentle, caring, considerate and totally comprehensive. Yes, with him she would cum many times, something that had never happened to her before.

Nathan had purely used her as a sex toy, as had the small number of other men he had used to 'train' her. They'd cum in her mouth, over her breasts or on the sweet cheeks of her firm ass. Religiously, though, at Nathan's insistence, when he or the other men had actually fucked her, they had worn the typical Deep South contraceptives. Most were the washable variety, but some were older fashioned ones made from animal gut.

Adam, though, was different. He generally used the recently introduced disposable rubber variety, which Emilene had never seen before.

"Let me put this under your stomach," he said, pulling at her hip bone.

She willingly lifted her tummy from the bed to let him slide a thick pillow under her, thus lifting her bottom up from the bed by six inches or so and shaping her body like a crescent. Adam gasped at the sight - she looked amazingly erotic with her breasts squashed against the bed, her face on one side, her large mouth open, white teeth gleaming and her big eyes tightly closed.

It was, of course, her body that made her position look so stunningly sexual. Her smooth back created a gentle incline up and up and up until it reached a natural apex at the top of her gorgeously rounded ass. Then down the other side of the 'black mountain' and along her smooth, parted legs.

Adam knelt beside her and kissed the very apex made by the two firm globes staring up at him. He held each cheek and gently pulled them apart, gazing into the deep, dark crevice and seeing the lighter coloured puckered skin round the entrance to her anus. Wiggling himself more between her legs as he pushed them further apart, his tongue slid down into that musky valley.

Feeling the tip of his tongue pressing right against her hole, Emilene grunted with pleasure. Until she had started having sex with Adam, she had never realised the pleasure that could be derived from her ass. Like most 'Southern gentlemen,' Nathan and the select few who had had sex with her did not consider such a thing as being proper, just as they could not bring themselves to have oral sex with her. Brought up sexually in the more liberated north, Adam had no such compunctions, especially about a bum as gorgeous as Emilene's. Additionally, Adam had other reasons for being a fan of anal sex!

It took no time at all to make her cum simply by using his tongue on her ass. Once she had recovered, he adjusted her position so that she lay on her back. He was on his side, his elbow was resting on the bed beside her body his head supported by his hand. Her black skin was glistening in the afternoon sun streaming through the open window, making a strong contrast with the brilliant white, cotton sheet on the bed.

"Thank you, Mr Adam," her tiny voice whispered. She spoke so lovingly that he responded by sucking one of her dark nipples deep into his mouth.

Emilene was now more relaxed with Adam and had started initiating things. Nothing extreme, that was not her place, but little touches, putting her arm round him, running her fingers through his hair and stroking his erection or caressing his balls.

So, as Adam sucked her breasts and nipples, sending stunningly, strong sensations through her, she cradled his head and stroked his hair. They both got so much from being together, but in different ways from her responses and growing participation in what Adam recognised as their lovemaking, not just sex.

Emilene loved the feeling of his erection growing against her leg and reached down and took the long shaft into her hand. She could still not get over the fact that she, a young, black slave girl, could make a member of the landed gentry so sexually excited that they became hard because of her.

"Mmmm," he sighed, pulling her legs apart and looking down at the slash of pink that almost looked violent against the blackness of her thighs, ass and wiry, pubic hairs. Although loving the taste and feel of women's vaginas, Adam was not that interested in looking at them.

To him, they were not an object of beauty such as breasts were, they did not, for some reason, have the excitement he gained from looking at a woman's nipples, nor did they have the curiosity factor of a woman's anus.

Returning to licking her tits and sucking her nipples, he ran his fingers along the slickness of Emilene's slightly opened lips. They were warm and slippery. They felt good.

"Open your legs Emi," he instructed, turning his hand so that his thumb found her clit, making her body jerk with surges of pleasure.

He ran his thumb up and down her wetness a few times, enjoying her low groans and deep sighs. She was a very reactive lover and Adam simply loved both her participation and her moans in response to his sexual caresses. Several times, after pressing her clit and running his thumb and fingers along her slit, his hands slid right between her legs and into the crease of her bottom. Emmi moaned again, a deep, guttural sound, and moved position so that Adam's fingers made more frequent and stronger contact. Until his tongue had been on her tonight, she had no idea her ass could be the source of so much pleasure. Without really thinking or planning, Adam caressed along her crevice while stroking her labial lips and caressing her clit. His fingers, wet with Emmi's juices, pressed against her anus several times. Each time, she involuntarily opened her legs a little more and pressed back against the finger.

His thumb pressed right on her clit as his wet middle finger found that puckered skin between her ass cheeks. She seemed to be pushing herself towards it; he had found that Emilene had such a natural approach to sex. Each time as he pressed a little harder, Emmi returned that pressure, so he pushed further still until his finger started to slide inside her ass.

"Oh God," she groaned, not thinking of the blasphemy and gripping Adam's cock harder with one hand and his chest with the other. "Oh, master!"

Slowly, very slowly, Adam's finger entered her most private place. He was as excited as he had been for some time. It was many years since he had fingered a woman's, other than a whore's, ass and he did not want to scare or, even worse, hurt her.

"Is that okay, Emmi?" he whispered, kissing her damp forehead.

"Oh yes, yes, Mister Adam, yes," she whimpered back, raising her knees and spreading her thighs even more.

He added more pressure and his fingertip went through the sphincter muscle, almost up to the first knuckle. The pain lasted only a second or two, and was quickly replaced with the most glowingly warm feeling of deep heat right up the excited girl's back passage.

"You still okay?" Adam checked, removing his mouth from her nipple and clamping it round her lips.

She managed a nearly gagged. "Yes, oh yes," as she felt his finger sliding further and further inside her back passage. She kissed him back as passionately as she could, loving him for the tenderness and caring he was showing her, as well as the pleasure and excitement he was providing.

Quite why his finger inside the girl's ass should excite him so much, Adam couldn't fully understand. But the way his cock hardened further into an ache was evidence enough. He twisted his finger. Emmi moaned again. He went with the flow, allowing the sensations to overwhelm him as the beautiful, young black girl writhed against him and his 'magic' finger.

The power, the dominance, the pleasure, the excitement, the eroticism, the adventure, the taboo and the sheer bloody excitement of finger fucking a woman to a climax was almost too much for his inflamed senses.

He pushed harder. His finger vanished up that musky passage right to his second knuckle. Emmi bucked, just like a young colt being broken in. The combination of the pain, the pleasure, the excitement and, yes, the gratitude was something she had never before experienced. No man had ever tried to give her pleasure before they took theirs. That is, until Mister Adam. And no man had ever finger fucked her before. She had no idea really whether this was part of normal lovemaking or whether it was something that just white people did for she had not had sex of any sort with a black man. Whatever it was, it was a marvellous addition to the sexual repertoire to which she had been exposed.

Adam was now very excited. Using a bum had become such a big part of his sexual experiences, whether that was with men, or women. It was really the only part of sex where there was little or no difference between the genders, he found. He was alternating between kissing and sucking Emilene's big lips and her, almost, chewy nipples as he edged his finger further up her bum. At the same time, rather dextrously he thought, he was rubbing her clit with his thumb and wiggling his forefinger inside her pussy.

To the slave girl, the cocktail of physical sensations from her anus, her vagina, her clitoris and her nipples combined magnificently with the emotional stimulation that Adam's caring, considerate and patient approach was providing. Emi had never experienced anything remotely like it before. She was having one long, strong and intense orgasm. Her mouth was wide open gasping for breath, her eyes were tightly clamped shut and her arms were wrapped round Adam's neck and shoulders.

She had opened her legs as wide as they would go to give him the room needed to stimulate all those special places and she had raised her knees. Her back was arched, her entire body was taught and her head was rolling from side to side.

Seeing all those wonderful sights and feeling the strong reactions from the girl sent Adam into a, near, sexual frenzy. He kissed her harder, he sucked her breasts harder, he chewed her nipples harder, he rubbed her clit harder and he shoved his finger harder up her ass, right to the knuckle. That hurt her.

"Oh God, Oh Mary, oh Jesus, oh, oh," she groaned, clinging harder to Adam as the searing pain tore into and up her anus. It was terrible. It was so painful, she started to cry. But it was only the lack of lubrication and as he started to pump it a little so some of her juices eased the situation. Then, the pain turned into that wonderful sensation of an aching warmth that transcends being hurt or having a sexual ache.

As Adam was finger fucking Emilene's ass, cunt and clit he was also humping, dry shagging really, her smooth, black, damp with perspiration thigh. And as she cried and groaned, moaned and sighed and shuddered and convulsed he thrust his rigidly hard cock against her.

"Oh yes Emmi, yes, yes, yes" he moaned as his cock exploded and his spunk shot from his cock all over the girl's upper leg and stomach; its whiteness in stark contrast to the blackness of her west African skin.

fucking   through   georgia  

Feb 8, 2018 in anal

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