Ever Rest at Evernew

Purnell looked up into DuCarde's face through glassy eyes. "Yes, Philip, yes."

DuCarde leaned his torso down toward Purnell's chest and covered the young lawyer's lips with his, pressing his tongue inside. Purnell sighed for him. A hand came up to Purnell's head, the fingers lacing themselves into his hair, pulling his head to the side and stretching his neck out. DuCarde came out of the kiss, lifted his face from Purnell's and smiled benignly down at the other man. His mouth opened in a smile. His incisors gleamed and showed large and pointed.

Purnell sighed and gave a little moan, his arms lifting with great effort and embracing DuCarde's broad back, as DuCarde lowered his face to Purnell's extended neck, licked the slightly throbbing vein there for a brief moment before the teeth sliced into the vein and the sounds of sucking began.

Purnell moved his body against DuCarde's, his hands pressing and releasing on DuCarde's shoulder blades, in weak rhythm to the rising and falling of DuCarde's hips, the plowing of his cock, the sucking sounds of the draining of the blood. He sighed, and weakly whimpered. "Yes, take me to heaven, Philip. I see the light; I hear the music."

His head flopped over to the side and his cock released a small spurt of cum as DuCarde ejaculated deep in his channel and lifted his head and howled to the canopy of the bed above him.

Purnell was breathing in very shallow, off-rhythm pants as DuCarde pulled his sleeping breeches back up his legs, dressed, and stole out of the room and the house.

* * * *

God, he was big, and going deep. Showing me no mercy. Crueler than he'd been in the carriage, able to reach deeper. God, I was loving this. I was on his bed—at Evernew—on my belly, buttocks raised on trembling knees, as, covering me close, trapping my arms above my head by gripping my wrists, he took me in long, hard, thick thrusts.

I had reached Evernew after dusk, brought by the carriage he'd sent for me in Natchez, both of us knowing I would come to him. The carriage had come to me in mid-afternoon, not long after I was back from conducting the funeral for John Purnell, and while I was rereading John's obituary in the newspaper. Some sort of wasting disease, the report said. Nothing more specific than that. Just like my father, although taken by it quicker. I had seen the hand of death on him that night at the opera.

Then I heard the carriage stop outside the rectory, the doorbell chime, and Mrs. Roberts bringing me the note of summons. It had told me to pack a bag and come at once.

"The return of an important family to the parish," I told Mrs. Roberts. "They must be made welcome. A very wealthy family. I will be gone at least for the night."

She had readily understood and helped me quickly pack, sending me off at the doorstep with a smile and a wave. I hoped she hadn't seen how badly I was trembling as I entered the carriage.

I entered the house at Evernew in the dark. The house was only dimly lit by candlelight. Philip met me at the top of the stairs. He was naked, his body gloriously muscled and proportioned, his dark body hair covering his chest, belly, thighs, arms, and groin in artful curls. An animal, a wolf, ready to do animal coupling. Animal coupling with me. Primeval. Nothing but lust and need. He met me at the top of the stairs, pulling me close to him, grabbing the hair on the back of my head and arching my head back, painfully. His mouth possessed mine, forcing mine open, his tongue going deep. Pulling the tongue out he growled and bit my lip, drawing blood. Despite the involuntary yelp, I was grasping his bare buttocks with my hands, holding him close to me, feeling the hardness of him. I was already panting hard when he told me to go to his bed, strip, and lay on my belly.

When he came down on top of me, his chest went down between my legs, his hands gripping my hips. Coaxing me to raise up a bit on my knees, his hands went to separating and squeezing my buttocks, and his mouth alternated between opening my entrance and pulling my cock through my thighs to suck it and my balls.

I was writhing under him, moaning, panting hard, and begging for him to be inside me when he went up on his knees between my spread thighs, worked his thick cock inside me, and began to pump. He brought the silkiness of his chest down on my bare back, and I turned my face to his for a deep kiss. He ran his fingers into my hair and pulled my head to one side. His tongue licked its way down my cheek and onto my throat where it ran lovingly down the vein popping out of my neck from my head being turned hard to the side.

I felt a prick at my throat, but most of my attention was concentrating on the mining of my passage by his impossibly thick and long cock, seemingly growing in possessing length and girth as he pumped me. A warm, sensual feeling overtook me—a feeling of well-being, of being in perfect harmony with the elements. I could feel the pulsing at my neck and hear the suckling sound, but it didn't alarm me. I was floating, feeling oh so sexy and well taken care of. I was moving my pelvis in consort with the thrusts of his cock, opening and closing my fists buried in the bedspread to the rhythm of the fuck.

I had never been fucked as divinely as this before. I sighed deeply and murmured, "Yes, yes, fuck me just like this. Fuck me to heaven."

Philip moved a hand under my chest. I sensed he wanted to turn me on my back and fuck me in another position. But then I heard him yelp and pull his hand away, like it had been burned. And as I saw it flash by, it did look singed. I couldn't really tell, though, in the dim light. He had pulled away from me and was off the bed. I saw his naked buttocks disappearing out of the door to the corridor as I sat up in bed. Instinctively, I reached for the gold cross that hung on a chain around my neck. It felt hot to my touch.

It felt like it was damning me. Of course I shouldn't be here, in a man's bed, being covered and fucked by a man, a man hirsute enough to give a delicious animalistic tinge to the coupling. I was a priest. This was one of the worst sins I could be performing.

But he was so compelling, so arousing—so much the natural animal performing naturally. I couldn't help myself. I slipped the cross necklace off my neck, left the bed, and tucked it into the pocket of my breeches. That wouldn't damn me while I was here. My eyes found the clerical collar, though, gleaming white. Pure, chaste. A purposeful symbol. A promise I had not, could not fulfill. That too I tucked away in a pocket.

I lay back on the bed, my legs bent and spread, pillows under the small of my back, ready and willing in anticipation for Philip's return. He didn't return that night, though. I waited, awake for more than an hour, moving a hand from my shimmering cock to my neck, where it felt like I'd been stung and was warm to the touch. Then back to my cock, encasing it, stroking it, dreaming of the euphoric world I'd been in while Philip was fucking me, a sensation of contentment and satiation as I'd never felt before from a man between my thighs, a monster cock inside me, growing and thrusting, thrusting and growing. I gave up my seed in three long arcs and, with a sigh, drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

The next morning I descended the stairs, wearing a white shirt and brown breeches. Banished were my black priest's vestments, white collar, and the gold cross necklace. I could not be a priest today. All I could think of was lying under Philip, becoming one with Philip. But I found no evidence of Philip about. Only elderly slaves, mostly women, and one grizzled old man, the driver of the carriage, who also seemed to function as the house's butler.

"No, Massa, Great Massa never appears in the day. He moves at night and sleeps in the day. I wouldn't expect to see him about again until this evening. He said that you might like to ride the plantation today."

Indeed I did choose that pastime as I waited for Philip to be about again—to, I hoped, renew his working of my body—working me in ways I'd never experienced before. I didn't know what had pulled him away from me the previous night. But I was determined for us to overcome that, to move on from where we had left off. We had just reached a level of totally synchronized movement, getting the most from a glorious fuck. The sense of him feverishly consuming me was sending shudders up my spine.

It took me the rest of the daylight to cover Evernew and the adjacent DuCarde-owned plantations. I was struck while riding the grounds of Evernew plantation to find only women, of all ages, and boys and old men working the fields. I would have expected to see young men too. I had wanted to see young, muscular, black bucks working the fields, stripped down to the waist. Watching them and imagining one of them between my thighs, working my channel with a thick cock—like I enjoyed in the brothels of New Orleans.

But there were none to be seen at Evernew proper. The wonder of this was that there were children around. There were women of child-bearing age, in abundance. Some even with seeded bellies. They must have been plowed by some younger man rather than the bent-over old men I saw in the fields. But none were in evidence. So the scarcity must have been something happening fairly recently. I didn't connect that with the reappearance on the scene of Philip DuCarde.

As my wanderings took me farther from Evernew, I did begin to see young, black bucks working in the fields. They were as muscular as I dreamed under the strain of the hard field work. Near the banks of the Mississippi, I left the saddle of my horse, tying the reins to a tree near a puddle of water and a lush stand of grass to give the horse a respite.

The stand of trees was bordered by a cotton field on the other side of the stand of trees from the riverbank. I stood there, watching the slaves at work, admiring the physiques of the young, black bucks. One, in particular, was noticing me, as well. I recognized the look he was giving me—of lust and want—and a touch of anger. Those were the black bucks I paid for in New Orleans—the ones who wanted to break me as much as fuck me. It was the penance I pretended was sufficient—that they leave me broken and gasping, beyond satisfied. The sin and the recompensing penance combined in one.

I knew how to return such a look. I stripped off my shirt and gave him a smile. I knew that I had a body to please a man who appreciated a well-worked torso. He unlaced the codpiece of his breeches and let a huge, half-hard cock flop out, probably trying to shock me. I didn't flinch. I just stood there, staring him down, a smile on my face. He looked around for an overseer or other observing field hand and, seeing none, looked back at me and inclined his head, his hand going to his cock and giving it a couple of shakes.

I inclined my head in answer, turned, and slowly walked into the trees.

The big black buck fucked me as I reclined between the roots of a giant oak tree close to the bank of the Mississippi. Both of us made guttural, animal rutting sounds as he pushed his knees between my spread thighs, held my legs, bent, spread, and raised in the crook of his arms, and thrust hard and deep.

It was just the fuck I needed. No talking—indeed, I had no idea if he could speak English or not; his body was so magnificently native that he could have come straight out of Africa to between my legs. Just grunting and groaning, thrusting and breeding. Fucking like animals. Me thumping and clawing at his chest while he, positioning his face close to mine to watch my reaction to the wild thrusts of his cock, sneering and, no doubt, taking out on me all of his hate and frustration toward his white overlords.

I took everything he had to give and just collapsed over to the side after he'd pulled out of me, grasped my hair, and forced my mouth down onto his cock to clean it. With just a grunt then, he was gone, and I remained, whimpering and sighing as the golden fingers of the sunset spread across the wide Mississippi at my feet. Broken, but freed, I told myself by the penance I had taken—until the next time I strayed.

Philip was sitting at a grand piano in the main parlor of Evernew when I returned to the house, nearly hobbling, as I mounted the portico steps. His playing was expert. Yet another surprise about Philip. I wondered how many surprises there were in him that I didn't know about.

I started to shrug my shoulders back into my shirt as I entered the room.

"No, leave it off," he said as he saw me. "I am, as you can see, bare-chested too."

I certainly could see that. I normally wasn't aroused by hairy men. But the pattern of the hair on his chest and down the centerline of his torso was sexy and made me want to take my eyes lower than that. Knowing already how magnificently he was equipped didn't take the wonder away of imagining the view below the beltline.

"You aren't wearing your clerical vestments tonight. Good. Come here; sit with me."

I went to him. No mention of why he'd left me so abruptly the previous night. I did notice that his hand was bandaged, though. I didn't feel that he wanted me to ask about what had gone wrong, so I didn't. He pulled me down into his lap, facing the piano, and placed my hands on the keys. Positioning my fingers, he caused me to play a simple tune. His chin was on my shoulder, his lips buried in the hollow of my neck, kissing, licking, and nipping with his teeth there. I didn't think he even was looking at the keyboard, and yet he was able to manipulate my fingers to play recognizable tunes.

"You play remarkably well," I murmured.

"I want to play your body as well as I play this piano."

"I want that too," I admitted in a low, hoarse voice.

"I want you to come upstairs with me now," he growled. I could feel from the strength of his cock against the small of my back that he wanted me. "Just you, nothing from the church."

"No, nothing from the church," I murmured, laying my head back on his shoulder and turning my face to his for a deep kiss.

* * * *

Just like the black slave on the banks of the Mississippi, but harder, more intense. I was on my back on Philip's bed, my legs bent, my heels dug into the mattress, leveraging my counterthrusts upward, as Philip knelt between my thighs, slamming deep and hard up inside me. One hand trapping one of my wrists above my head to the surface of the bed. The other hand gripping my throat and holding my head hard into the mattress. I was clawing at his bicep with my free hand, gagging at the grip of his hand on my throat, fighting for air, but moving my pelvis in hard counterthrust to him, taking him as hard and deep inside me as I could.

Like the black slave, he brought his face close to mine, capturing my eyes with his pale-blue orbs to watch my reactions to the thrusting of his cock and the clutching of his hand on my throat. I stared back, a stare of willingness, acceptance, challenge. Do your worst, my gaze tried to convey to him. It's what I need. It's my penance. The sin must have its penance.

A leery smile from him, just like that of the black slave. The mouth opened. I saw the prominence of the incisors. I hadn't noticed how canine his smile was before. His hand left my throat and went to the side of my head, his fingers lacing into my blond, curly hair, pulling my head sharply to the side.

A brief look of triumph in his face and then the face dipped to my exposed throat. I let out a cry and jerked hard as the incisors tore into my throat. Writhing under him, I fought, but not for long. The feeling of warmth, of well-being, of being as one with him, overtook me and I relaxed under his control—his physical, mental, and emotional control. I was fully his now, and we both knew it. The thrusting of his cock continued, but not as frenetic as before, and I now discovered that I could move my pelvis in perfect sync with the digging of his cock, which was thickening and lengthening in consort with his snuffling, all-consuming feeding at my throat.

My knees moved with the fuck, moving out as his cock pulled back, sometimes nearly bringing the bulb back to the entrance and then coming in, hugging his hips close, as he plunged deep inside me. My hands went to his shoulder blades, opening and closing their grip on his hard flesh in perfect rhythm to the fuck. His sucking at my neck was in perfect rhythm as well.

"Yes, fuck me, suck me," I murmured over and over again, as I became lightheaded. I was floating on the clouds. Not a worry in the world.

I roused in a double explosion, my eyes opening wide, cries in harmony—from Philip as well as me—as we both exploded in a massive, shared ejaculation. A flash of fright went through my body, as he pointed his face toward the ceiling and let out a haunting howl.

I was fully his.

I drifted off afterward, all quiet except for the sound of the suckling at my throat, Philip's cock flaccid, but deep inside me. Snuffling at my throat, a lick along the vein line, and then the prick once again of the teeth, and the sound of the ocean in my inner ears as my vein pulsed and Philip fed. The draining sensation, lightheadedness, the glow of a bright light from afar and the sound of eerie music.

When I woke, I was on my stomach. My arms and legs were extended to and tied off at the four corner posts of the bed. Pillows were stuffed under my midsection. The drapes were pulled, but I could see around the edges of them that it was daylight. I didn't feel as drained as I had the previous night when I blacked out. I was regaining strength. But I was restrained, so I wasn't going anywhere.

Nighttime again, lifting my buttocks in the air. Philip came down on top of me, stretching out on me, close. Entering my ass and beginning to pump. He grasped my hair and pulled my head to the side. His teeth slit into the vein at my neck, and he noisily began to feed.

I didn't care. I never felt as close to a person before as this—as well taken care of as this—as aroused and sensual as this. I set my pelvis in motion against his stroking, surprised a bit at how much effort it took. I drifted off into a haze, listening to the sucking sounds at my neck. Taken fully by my lover. Wanting him inside me, needing him inside me. Giving everything I had to my lover, because I couldn't get enough of what he gave to me. Jolted once more by the howl at the moment of ejaculation.

Suspended over the side of the bed, in Philip's arms, holding me close from behind, his cock up inside me, moving in and out, deep, shallow, then deep again. Not exactly standing on my own. I doubted I had the strength to stand. One arm around my midsection, palming my belly with his hand, holding me up, bent over toward the bed. The other hand buried in my hair, pulling my head back into the hollow of his neck and twisting it to the side. Teeth slicing into the vein of my exposed neck, sucking, suckling.

"Yes, yes, take me to paradise." Not knowing if I had had the strength to say that out loud. But it was what I wanted to convey. I wanted him to take me now, all the way, all the way to paradise. The paradise of that bright light, the ethereal music, the sense of sitting on a fence, not caring which side I fell on but feeling the sensation of the beginning of a slow fall—in some direction.

Barely awake again, head buzzing, having difficulty forming a thought. On my back. No restraints this time. None needed. I wasn't going anywhere. I could barely lift my hands, let alone move off the bed. Philip kneeling between my thighs, pulling my legs up to a bent position. My not being able to hold them there myself. Just letting them flop to the side. With a little laugh, he pulled them up into his hips with his hands. Positioning his cock at my now-gaping hole, reamed to his requirements at his thickest, he easily slid inside, deep. Fucking me there, like that, to his ejaculation, his howl, my weak-flow response.