Visiting My Relatives Down South (Part #2)

On the second day of his visit, 14-year-old Morgan learns more about the plantation's slave-breeding business from his cousins---and has another romp with Fawn.

Introduction

Here is a recap of the first part of this story which you are highly encouraged to read in its entirety.

Set in 1856, this is the second part of a story about a 14-year-old Michigan lad named Morgan Miller. Along with his sister Martha and his parents, they make a long train journey to from Flint to an area near Savannah, Georgia to visit relatives in the antebellum American south. Decades before, his paternal aunt had married into a fantastically rich southern family, the Merriwethers, whose huge fortune was attributable to cotton, tobacco and slaves. Morgan quickly learns that his three male cousins, their father and his father spend plenty of time personally copulating with the mulatto girls to breed new slaves. These compliant females are housed in a special compound solely for the purposes of producing new slaves. To his amazement and delight, Morgan is invited to choose a slave girl and impregnate her. Although Morgan is a virgin, he catches on quickly and has a marvelous time screwing a slave named Fawn who is about his age. From that point onward, Morgan knows where he’ll be spending most of his two-week southern vacation!

Morgan serves as the story’s narrator, recollecting the events of his summer of 1856 in a memoir he is writing four decades later.

Part One

Before heading to bed on that first night at my relatives’ southern plantation, I quickly wrote three identical letters to friends back home in Flint, Michigan. I figured I had to be careful about the words I used within these missives in case they were too brazen for the U.S. Postal Service to deliver. Of course, my room had a large desk and plenty of ink and fancy stationery for this task. I learned that my personal servant would make sure any letters I penned were collected and would be included among the outgoing daily mail from the plantation, which was a sizable amount. The telephone was still 20 years in the future, so mail was hugely important to anyone who conducted business—especially one as huge and complex as the Merriwethers’ plantation was. I merrily told my friends in Flint that I had “interacted” with a comely slave girl my age named Fawn. Furthermore, I would be visiting her and other girls frequently during my two-week stay “for the purposes of biology.” I knew two of my three pen pals would easily understand what I was saying. The third boy, Morris Fitzgibbons, was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, so I was not fully confident that he would understand the euphemisms I used.

Another issue was my parents. Should I tell them anything about what I did yesterday with my male cousins? They were bound to ask me how I occupied my time with them. I need not have worried. My father quietly approached me before breakfast the next morning to tell me he had heard about my visit to the slave quarters from his brother-in-law. He was a little bit shocked by the revelation, but he managed to keep the promise that we all had made: Don’t question the ways of the South—especially when you are a houseguest of a plantation owner. Dad just said to me with a devilish smile, “Enjoy the opportunity, Morgan. We won’t tell your mother or sister a single thing about this, though. Let’s lie and say you went hiking, or fishing, or something else completely innocent.” Father certainly was, in so many ways, a worldly man in his own right.

Charles, the oldest of my cousins, had some pressing business to attend to most of the following day, so he left me under the guidance of his two younger brothers, Gregory and Percy. Percy was my age; Gregory was a year older. They closely resembled their mother, who shared physical traits with my father—especially their noses and eyes. They were both highly intelligent fellows who were more than happy to educate me regarding how the slave business on their plantation operated. I was told that like all Southern plantations, slave labor was used to tend the vast fields of cotton and tobacco crops. There was also an enormous vegetable garden that was used mainly for the family’s consumption.

I learned that the Merriwethers’ slave breeding operation was almost unique and certainly more organized than what was common in the South at the time. When a male slave was born, he was quickly sold elsewhere. When a female was born, it was taken from its mother and raised by a group of slave nurses in another building which I had not seen yet. She would typically live there until about the age of 11 or 12—or whenever she was deemed to be mature enough to have children of her own. During the first dozen years, the girls often had small tasks, such as helping out in the kitchen or assisting the older nurses in looking after the slave infants and toddlers.

Percy explained that when a slave girl became pregnant, she was often sold elsewhere before she had her baby as slave traders often sought such situations: They could offer their customers “two for the price of one”.

“I understand Fawn has had a baby. Why wasn’t she sold when she was pregnant?” I asked.

Gregory answered this time. “Not all of them are sold when that happens. Slave girls who are especially fertile—or those who are just our favorites—we tend to keep them around forever as a courtesy and for old times’ sake. Eventually they will become the nurses for the little ones.”

I asked a follow-up question: “Can I assume Fawn is a personal favorite of somebody on the plantation?”

“That is a very perceptive question, Morgan,” Percy began. “Yes, she’s a favorite of my father—who was also the father of her baby. Dad says Fawn has a vagina that is built just perfectly for his dick.”

Despite my being an absolute sexual novice until the previous day, I had noticed the same thing: Fawn had a fabulous pussy that seemed wonderfully accommodating to my hard penis. Nevertheless, I was worried that I had overstepped the boundaries of a plantation guest by bedding the master’s favorite slave girl without his direct permission. When I asked about that, both Gregory and Percy chuckled. “Think nothing of it, Morgan!” Percy eventually told me. “We southern men change our favorite mulatto bedwarmers as often as we change our socks. When I told my father last night that you had chosen Fawn to screw, his reply to me was, “That just proves your cousin Morgan has excellent taste.”

Percy and Gregory offered to show me the building where the slave infants and girls were housed. Again, I was surprised by the sheer numbers of slaves involved in this reproductive enterprise. There had to be 30 of them spread across the huge building with a dozen or so nurses to tend to their needs. Most of the latter had their breasts exposed so they could quickly feed their charges. That was unusual to see in Michigan—and it got me aroused. Also titillating were the mulatto girls just on the verge of puberty. They were barely dressed or not dressed at all. I asked my companions if this was the norm.

“Let’s just say it’s not unusual,” Gregory answered. “They bathe frequently because of the Georgia heat, so often they don’t bother to dress some days if they are not needed in the house. My mother insists that they be properly clothed if they’re doing some indoor chores. On the other hand, Dad doesn’t mind seeing naked girls running around his mansion, though. We tend to agree with him.” We all laughed.

We spent a few minutes watching the girls bathe themselves or be bathed by the nurses. This too was quite arousing to me—and to my two hosts. “On occasion,” Gregory said to me with just the slightest hint of embarrassment, “Percy and I venture in here and assist with the girls’ baths. Doing that gets us horny before we head to the compound for a fuck. That’s how Dad met Fawn. We told him there was a lovely mulatto girl he might want to have a look at. He did and pronounced her to be adorable. Within a couple of years Fawn was his frequent bedmate in the other building. Together they produced a daughter. She’s here somewhere, Morgan. Want to try to guess which one she is?”

I just made a wild guess, pointing at one who looked to be about two years old.

“No, she’s not the one,” Gregory informed me. He then pointed to a little girl about 15 feet from the one I had guessed, and said, “That’s the girl Father sired with Fawn. The one you pointed to is one of my daughters.”

The life I had led in Flint, Michigan now seemed exceedingly dull.

After about five minutes of watching the younger girls bathe in the half dozen tubs in the room, Gregory asked me a question. “I suppose you’ll want to make a trip to the compound for another fuck with Fawn. Am I right, Morgan?”

“The sooner the better!” I stated. “My dick is already hard—and I want to put it in Fawn’s vagina right away!” My eagerness amused my two hosts.

“Well, we certainly don’t want you to have an accident in your trousers, Morgan,” Gregory responded. “Off we go to the zenana.”

“The what?” I asked

Percy explained, “Zenana is an Indian word that means the rooms in a house solely designed for women. In other words, it’s where a harem lives.”

Part Two

Gregory had his own key to the building, as did Percy, for those occasions when one or the other was overcome by carnal desires and needed a quick pussy fix. The girls were all excited to see us again, which was a bit of a surprise to me. Percy said. “They all know if they get pregnant and become one of the favorite girls here, they will basically live a life of leisure. That’s why they like to see the Merriwether men and our houseguests come in this building.”

I spotted Fawn in the distance and made my way directly to her. She was wearing a faded, pink cotton dress—and nothing else. Instead of taking her hand as I had yesterday, I picked Fawn up. I don’t think this was something she regularly experienced. I was at least seven inches taller than she was. I easily carried her to a vacant bed. I sat her there and lifted her dress over her head. Fawn’s appealing breasts caught my immediate attention because they jiggled sexily. I disrobed in about a minute, which was actually fast in 1856 because of the layers of clothing that gentlemen typically wore in that era. As I was doing that task, I noticed that both Gregory and Percy had selected two different girls than the ones they had screwed yesterday. (“Variety is the spice of life,” Gregory would later explain.) I was more than content with bedding Fawn a second time, however. I wanted to work on my fucking technique with her. I could use all the practice I could get—and she was quite appealing to me.

Fawn surprised me by being somewhat sexually aggressive herself for our second romp. A few seconds after I disrobed and was about to join her in bed, she reached out and stroked my phallus ever so slightly with the tops of the fingers on her left hand. She coyly smiled all the while. Now I was absolutely aroused to the fullest. Still, I delayed mounting Fawn because I knew that would result in an almost instant ejaculation. I wanted to enjoy the experience for as long as possible.

I groped Fawn’s breasts, cupping them and squeezing them playfully. The more I touched her nipples, the more I noticed how rigid they became. Of course, this was an open invitation to suck on them. I did so, with great aplomb and vigor. I could not fathom how any healthy male would not enjoy bedding Fawn. Unlike the previous day, I turned Fawn on her side so I could embrace her from behind and continue to play with her lovely tits in a more relaxing sexual position. My snuggling with her from that situation allowed me to whisper things in Fawn’s ear.
“I love your breasts, Fawn,” I said, stating the obvious. Then I added, “I’m going to fuck your vagina hard today, my sexy little slave girl. Let’s make that baby together!” I told her as I planted kisses on her cheek.

“Yes, sir,” she agreed. What else could she possibly say under the circumstances?

I continued, “Be a good girl, Fawn, and let me fuck you like this.” I then lifted her left leg so it rested on mine, thus opening her pussy for penetration. I wasted no time in shoving my manhood inside her. We both moaned at the sensation as it slid in perfectly, just as it had yesterday. I recalled my uncle’s praise of Fawn’s vagina—and had to wholly agree with it.

I was still quite new at sex, so just about anything I hadn’t done the day before would be something new to me. I began with slow but long thrusts of my rod inside Fawn’s pussy, and then followed with short quick ones. Fawn seemed to enjoy the variety of my deliveries—and I didn’t mind attempting to please this girl as best I could because I was pleasing myself as well. This time I lasted for about three minutes before attaining an orgasm. When I got the telltale physical sign it was approaching, I flipped Fawn onto her back again and swiftly drove my penis inside my sexy slave girl with the hardest thrust I could muster. A cum geyser followed. “Oh, what a marvelous feeling!” I shouted as I launched several strong strings of semen into Fawn’s waiting vagina. I wasn’t going to pull out any time soon. Long after the semen stopped flowing from my testicles, I continued to give Fawn small thrusts. I wanted to make sure not a drop of my cum was wasted. I wanted to procreate with this girl!

Because I was fully occupied with riding Fawn, I hadn’t paid a whit of attention to what Gregory and Percy were up to with their females of the day. Now that I was basically done doing my business with Fawn, I could focus on them and perhaps learn a few things. I did!

My two cousins were busily and enthusiastically fucking their slave girls within a couple of feet of each other. The girl named Mabel whom Gregory was screwing was on top of him, which was something I had never considered. She was bouncing in a jolly manner on his penis as he held her hips. Her large, heaving breasts, moving up and down, were a fantastic sight to me. I made a mental note to try that sexy position with Fawn before my vacation ended. Percy was also doing something unusual in my eyes: standing up and fucking his girl, one named Sarah, from behind while she was on her hands and knees on the bed. Intrigued, I knew I had to add that position to my agenda, too.

I finally did dismount Fawn after being conjoined to her for about ten minutes. By that time, my penis was completely flaccid—but I was completely satisfied with my second sexual experience. It had been a marvelous fuck. I told Fawn she was a lovely bedmate. She smiled coyly and said exactly the same thing she had said to me yesterday after we had concluded our first romp: “Good fuck, Mr. Morgan, sir.”

Just as the three of us were about to leave, there was some commotion as three new girls were brought into the zenana to join the others by a trio of the plantation’s overseers. They seemed to be in their middle teens. Percy explained that his father had recently traded three slave boys under the age of one to a neighboring plantation owner for three nubile females. (Each slaveowner figured he had gotten the better of the bargain.) It was they who were now arriving.

“I think we should welcome them!” Percy stated. The moment Mr. Forbes, the plantation’s chief overseer, brought them in, Percy began groping the breasts of the bustiest girl of the three. Gregory did the same to the youngest. He said to me, “Don’t be shy, Morgan, there’s a third one here for you, too. Have a quick feel of her cute assets before we head back to the mansion.” I was left with the most flat-chested girl of the bunch, but a feel was a feel, and I enjoyed it. My penis slowly crept back to life, but one substantial fuck per day was enough for me.

Percy addressed the overseer in fake anger. He seemed to have it rehearsed. “Mr. Forbes, it occurs to me that the distance between our plantation and the McPherson plantation is about eight miles. In nice weather like we have today, it shouldn’t have taken you this long to make the journey there and back. By chance, did you stop to have a pleasurable screw with one of these comely slave girls you were entrusted with delivering to us? I suspect that might have been the case! Am I right about that?”

“Well, young Mr. Merriwether, I must confess I did just what you think I did,” the man said with a slight Irish lilt and a twinkle in his eyes. “When we stopped along the way home for a brief moment to relieve ourselves, I extended the break. I took the opportunity for a bit of horizontal recreation with that girl over there, the one with the big bosoms. Ah, she was a mighty good fuck, sir! I had a great come to finish off. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is with child from me because I gave her such a fine squirt of my seed. Are you cross with me, sir, for doing what every healthy male was meant to do?”

“No, Mr. Forbes, not at all,” Percy assured him with an understanding grin. “I’d be puzzled if a man in your enviable position didn’t take a few liberties with these girls you haul from plantation to plantation. I know I certainly would! However, these girls now belong to the Merriwether family. They exist now for the Merriwether men to fuck and impregnate—or for our valued houseguests, like Morgan here, to do the same. Keep your trousers on, Forbes! Of course, we cannot monitor what you do when you are making these types of trips.”

“No, you can’t sir,” Forbes agreed. “Have you any more girls for me to pick up later in the week? I’d be more than happy to make the trip anywhere in Georgia.”

I knew I’d be including that anecdote in my letters I’d be writing tonight to my friends back home in Flint.