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From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 040 (MF hist)
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Date: Tue, 11 May 2004 16:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 040.txt" begin>

Rebel 040 (MF hist)

Lisa's Ordeal

	During one of our stays in a regular camp, Lieutenant Foster 
had comely visitors, two of them.  A pretty, blonde woman of 
twenty-five or so, that he rogered regularly during their stay, and 
her willowy younger cousin, carrot-haired and freckle-faced, barely 
nubile from the look of her, who resisted every subalterns' 
overtures but did dance and flirt with a few.  We regular soldiers, of 
course, had no chance with either of them.

	When the time came for us to move on, the lieutenant sent for 
George and me, gave him a small purse and me a dirty look, told us 
to see to it the ladies and their goods got on the right stage to their 
homes somewhere in eastern Pennsylvania and to be on our best 
behavior or he would skin us.  George assured Foster that my help 
was not needed, but the lieutenant insisted, saying he did not trust 
either of us alone, and then, as luck would have it, my friend fell and 
wrenched his ankle and knee, hobbling himself good and on top of 
that he got the runs, the soldier's disease.  I took the purse, worked 
at not smiling, fetched the wagon, loaded up the two small, 
humpbacked trunks, and was soon on the road with a pair nice, silly, 
well-dressed, chattering young women sitting beside me, the 
younger one right on my hip with a farm bonnet atop her unruly red 
curls.

	By the time the sun had passed its zenith, I had deposited the 
older woman at an inn where she could get a stage that afternoon 
for her home territory.  She assured me that we need not wait, so 
we ate quickly; the cousins hugged, and we got back on the road 
with only another ten or twelve miles to travel.  I thought I might be 
able to do the job, get laid at one of the taverns and then back to 
camp before midnight.  The redheaded girl moved as far away from 
me as she could on the driver's seat and conversed only in yeses and 
noes.  I wondered what I had done to offend her.  So I asked.

	"George told me about you," she said, sniffing.  "How awful 
you are with girls."

	"Did he?" I said, choking back a grin since I had played the 
same jest on him when I had the opportunity, poisoning the well we 
called it.

	"And Lt. Foster, he warned me, too, in the strongest terms." 
She nodded in agreement with herself.  "So just leave me alone."

	"That's fine," I said.  "I enjoy peace and quiet."

	"Besides," she said with a grin, "you smell pretty bad."

	"Haw," I said, "now I am hurt.  I washed last month I'm almost 
sure, shaved last week I know, cleaned my boots too."  I sniffed at 
myself.  "Guess my linen could be a bit fresher."

	"You didn't shave.  Oh, look" she said as a bunch of black-
coated riders crested the hill in front of us, just a hundred yards 
away.  I yelled at the horse, locked the brake, pushed the girl out 
into the ditch and leapt after her.  I stumbled to my feet, grabbed 
my musket from under the seat, took the furious young woman by 
the wrist and ran into the woods, her feet barely touching the 
ground every few steps.

	"What in the world?" she gasped at me when we paused to 
listen.  "You've ruined my dress and I've shed a shoe."

	"Germans," I said.  She had lost her silly hat.

	"We have papers," she reminded me, brushing at her skirt.

	"They don't care," I answered, listening hard.

	"But," she said and I shushed her as we both heard the cry of 
"Fraulein, fraulein, vere iss you?" Men were crashing through the 
brush on a wide front.

	I pulled her to her feet and ran again, covering a couple of 
hundred yards and stopping by a mound of brambles, deep in the 
shady forest.

	"Ofer hier," we heard a man yell, and he was not far away.  I 
primed my musket and clamped on my big bayonet while the girl 
tried to hold my arm or my belt, looking left and right, shaking and 
making odd noises.  I put my finger to my lips and found a good-
sized rock.  I tossed the stone to the other side of the thicket, heard 
it strike and then the sound of footsteps, coming closer.  

	The man almost stepped on us as he trotted by, and I took him 
from behind.  He died quietly, clawing at a tree as he sank to his 
knees and then to his face in the leaves after I yanked out my long 
blade.  Behind me the girl vomited and choked while I wondered 
how many were out in the woods looking for us.

	I pulled her up, and we walked quickly away from the body.  
She spat and wiped her mouth with her hand after yanking herself 
out of my grip.

	"Halt," someone cried almost in my ear, and from behind a 
large tree a black uniformed man stepped out right before us, 
smiling.  I lunged at him, parried his quick thrust and smashed him 
between the legs with the butt of my musket.  He screamed until I 
tore out his throat, spraying blood all over my boots.  Then we ran 
again, down a hill and to a small stream, gasping and stumbling.

	We stopped, bent over and panting.  I tried to spit and failed.

	"Hier, schnell!" someone yelled, and I looked up to see two 
Hessians coming down the hill at us, spike bayonets raised to catch 
the scattered sunlight.  I steadied my musket on the rock 
outcropping and fired at extreme range, hitting one man in the leg at 
perhaps seventy yards.  The other came on another twenty or so 
paces and then knelt to take aim as I hurriedly reloaded.  "Down," I 
yelled at the terrified girl just as he fired.

	His shot glanced off the rock well above my head, and I 
stepped out to take him on with my blade, after pulling my ramrod 
from the muzzle.  The man turned and fled leaving his wounded 
comrade behind.  I ignored him, finished reloading and priming and 
dragged the girl to her feet.  Her freckles looked much brighter on 
her blanched face.

	We clambered up the hill and at length found a road.  I looked 
at the sun and guessed we had made a rough circle and were back 
almost where we had started.  After we got our breath, I led the 
young woman down the verge of the dusty road until we saw a 
knot of horses held and guarded by a black-uniformed man.  The 
horses were being fractious so I had no trouble coming in behind the 
jaeger before he knew I was in the county.  I skewered him in the 
back, kicked his body into the ditch, scattered the horses and got us 
back on our wagon.  I had released the brake and was about to tell 
the horse to get going, when a young German officer came running 
out of the woods, waving a short sword and yelling.

	"Damn," I said as he ran at us, cursing and drawing his pistol.  
My shot blew a large hole in his chest, and he tumbled into the 
weeds waving his arms and gushing blood, his feet still kicking.  I 
clucked at the horse, handed the girl the reins and got to reloading.  
She flapped the leathers and avoided my look, chin thrust out.

	Another man in black stepped out into the road, knelt and 
fired, hitting the poor horse in the chest.  He made an awful noise, 
stumbled and fell forward as I jumped down and ran at the man, my 
weapon still unloaded.  The soldier stood and met me in good form, 
musket in both hands, but when we closed, I kicked his feet from 
under him and ended the fight quickly with two thrusts that spilled 
his guts into the road and probably carved his heart in two.  

	"Now what?" the girl asked when I returned to the wagon, 
wiping my blade on my britches and then sheathing it.  I was 
breathing hard, my blood up and my brain churning.

	"Seen any of those horses I shooed away?"

	She shook her head, her face tear stained.

	"Why are you crying?" I asked, calming myself, ignoring my 
turgid condition.

	"I'm scared," she sobbed, climbing down awkwardly and 
coming into my arms.  I patted her back and kept my eyes on the 
tree line, turning sideways to her lean body so she would not feel 
my turgid condition.

	"You got anything valuable in your trunk?" I asked her, trying 
to get her mind on something.

	"Some earbobs," she said. "A bracelet."

	"Get them," I told her.  While I reloaded my weapon, she 
clambered into the back of the wagon and fetched her jewelry.

	"It's not far," I assured her. "Maybe five miles." I was sure it 
was at least ten to the next tavern-stage station and maybe a bit 
more.

	So we walked, and now she talked.  I learned that she was 
Lisa and that she was almost seventeen and that her father was a 
master shoemaker, a good one who had learned his trade in the old 
country and come here as an indentured apprentice twenty years 
before and now had several men working for him.  She had five 
brothers and two sisters and, she told me, she had a beau in the 
Pennsylvania militia who was going to marry her next spring, a boy 
named David something.  She actually glowed when she talked 
about him and skipped along the road.

	Then she stopped smiling and said, "How many men did you 
kill back there?"

	"I don't know," I told her honestly.  I shifted my musket to the 
other shoulder and tried to count, flicking out fingers on my right 
hand.

	"Five," she said, kicking a stone, "maybe six."

	I nodded having reached the same conclusion.

	"Why, why'd you do it?"

	"To keep from being killed," I said, glad she had not asked 
how I could do such an awful thing.  That I could not answer.

	"But we had safe-conduct papers," she said sternly, swinging 
her arms and keeping pace with me as best she could.  One of her 
shoes kept trying to come off.

	"Wouldn't have done you any good," I said, hitting the word 
"you" extra hard.

	She was silent for a while, looking very serious.

	"Explain," she said rather quietly, hopping gracefully over a 
deep, water-filled hole.  Her movements reminded me of a young 
colt, a long-legged one.

	"They would have killed me, raped you, taken what they 
wanted including the horse, and hauled you back to poke some 
more until they got tired of you."  I glanced at her out of the corner 
of my eye.  She was taking that in so I did not add what the end 
might have been like.  I had seen too many women the Hessians had 
butchered; one would have been too many.

	"I've heard some stories, nasty stories," she said, nodding and 
moving a bit closer to me.  It took her three strides to match my 
two, and she was puffing a bit so I slowed down some.

	"No matter what you've heard," I said, "they're worse."

	We walked on quietly for a while, and then she said, "Thank 
you."  Her hand brushed mine, on purpose I think.

	I said, "You're welcome," we were both quiet, saving our 
energy as the shadows got longer and we climbed a long hill.

	We stopped to rest every time I figured we had walked about 
a mile.  It was not easy walking on that old, deeply rutted road and 
the short breaks were welcomed by both of us.  I guess we made 
three miles each hour, something like that.  My canteen was dry and 
both of us were leg tired and foot sore by the time dusk crept up 
the sky and the tavern finally appeared.

	We drank our fill at the well, used the necessary, found that 
there would not be another stage north for three days and got 
ourselves a meal.

	"You can go on back," Lisa said between bites, looking at me 
out of the top of her eyes.  "You don't have to wait."  Her eyelashes 
were dark, but her eyebrows contained a mix of colors including fox 
fur and gold wire.

	"I'd rather," I said, smiling at her freckled face.  Earnest was 
likely the best word for her not that she did not have a fine body 
and a quick mind.

	"We didn't stay with Jeannie back there," the girl said.

	"She's ten years older than you and that stage was due in an 
hour or so."

	"Nine," the girl said, spooning up stew and looking at me out 
of the top of her eyes.  "Nine years older."

	She finished her food, wiped her mouth on the long tablecloth 
and squinted at me.  "How's it feel to kill a man?" she asked, pushing 
her unruly hair back behind her ears.

	"First time might be hard," I said, "though I don't remember 
that it was; it's been a while, up near Boston.  Now I just see it as a 
nasty job, like killing vermin.   But the first time, that's something like 
making love the first time.  I was scared now that I think on it."

	She shook her head, and I admired her light-reddish curls, her 
hazel eyes and occasional dimples.  I repressed most of my usual, 
randy thoughts.

	"Mostly I'm scared when I'm fighting.  Usually it's me or them, 
and I've got no choice."  I did not tell her that I had killed unarmed 
men, men that had quit fighting, mostly Germans.

	She sipped her cider, and I got another beer.

	"Where you going to sleep?" she asked, not looking directly at 
me.

	"I'll find a place. Plenty of room out in the stable.  I already got 
you a room by yourself, only cost two shillings including breakfast.  
Man said the bed was clean, too."

	"Want to see for yourself?" she said with a small smile.

	"Fine thing for a young lady to be saying?"

	"Who says I'm a lady?" she said with a grin, looking pleased 
with herself.

	"You're just teasing, aren't you?" I said, not knowing exactly 
which way to go.  Knowing the way I wanted to go, right between 
her young legs.

	"Try me," she said, sticking out her stubborn chin. "Just try 
me."

	"I'm tempted, girl," I told her honestly, waving at the serving 
wench and getting her to fetch me a pipe.  She brought it lit and 
smiled an old invitation at me after she puffed out some smoke and 
licked the stem.

	"Later," I silently mouthed at her.  She rubbed her thigh on my 
shoulder and smiled.

	"I saw that," Lisa said.

	The door slammed open and four blackclad Germans stomped 
in. Bile rose in my throat.  One soldier stayed by the front door 
while another marched to the back and stood, feet spread wide and 
musket held across his body, eyes stony cold.  The officer in charge 
talked to the inn-keeper while a younger officer with a fancy hat 
walked through the small crowd.  I had seen his uniform before; 
blown a hole in one recently.  He stopped at our corner table.

	"Standt," he said to me sharply, jerking his thumb upward.  
"Raus."

	"Why?" I asked, wondering if the man I had shot in the leg 
was the cause of this and cursing myself for not finishing him.  I 
made sure my big blade was loose in the scabbard.  Sometimes it got 
stuck when there had been blood on it.

	"Hoch!" he yelled at me, glancing at the girl and reaching for 
my shirtfront at the same time, his face reddening.

	The older officer pushed him aside.  "Auf," he said calmly, 
motioning me to stand. I stood.  "Ja," he said, "sich."

	As the subaltern made to draw his pistol, I spun him about and 
kneed him in the groin, pulled my blade and got my arm about the 
other officer's neck, pulling his back to my chest.  "You wish to live?" 
I asked quietly, pinking him under the ear.  The man at the back 
door took a step toward us as the younger officer dropped to his 
knees, bent double and squealing.  His hat tumbled off and then his 
wig fell to the floor.

	The man's chin moved up and down on my forearm.  "Tell him 
to take those two and leave," I said, and the man issued quick, 
guttural commands.  The younger officer climbed to his feet, glared 
at me and waved his rifleman toward the front door.  The man I 
was holding decided to be a hero, elbowed me and attempting to 
spin free, dislodging his grey wig. He stumbled away with the side 
of his neck cut wide open, spouting blood like a split-open keg of 
wine.  I grabbed his pistol as he fell and shot the soldier standing 
only five feet away and then almost decapitated the young officer as 
he turned back toward me, trying to draw his sword.

	A gun boomed and a ball gouged the heavy table where the 
girl sat, her hand to her mouth.  I crossed the smoke-wreathed 
room in three quick steps, avoided the soldier's clumsy thrust and 
ripped him open, driving him back against the heavy door and 
eviscerating him.  I wiped my blade on his coat, sheathed it, picked 
up his musket and checked the other three.  All were very dead.  
The floor ran with sticky blood.  My heart felt like it was going to 
burst, and I leaned on the table in front of the girl and said, "Sorry.  
I got excited."

	She just stared at me, very pale.  I was bloody to the elbows.

	Somewhere in there, while my back was turned, the rest of the 
patrons fled.  The inn-keeper and I dragged the bodies out to the 
stable, and then the serving girl and he started cleaning up the place 
while I took Lisa up to her cell-like room with its tiny dormer 
window.

	"Don't go with her," was the first thing the girl said to me after 
I closed the door.

	"Who?" I asked stupidly, my body still charged up and my 
member inflamed, bulging out my codpiece, bent nearly double.

	"That woman, please," she sighed, holding my arm.

	"All right," I said, patting her shoulder.  She was trembling, 
biting her lip.  I glanced at the narrow bed.

	"Promise," she demanded, and I nodded, and then left her to 
help sweep the floor and spread some sand.  When I went to strip 
the dead, I found someone had been there first.  The bodies were 
barefoot and devoid of belts and purses.  I returned to the inn and 
asked the owner.  

	"I'll take care of them bodies," he said in reply.  He smiled at 
me, and I nodded.  The serving girl put her hand on my back, and I 
turned and grabbed her by the thick haunch.

	"Now?" she asked, coming into my arms, putting her hands 
about my neck.  She was warm and full-bodied, the kind of woman I 
liked best, experienced and eager like many tavern wenches I had 
met and bedded.  I followed her up the stairs, enjoying her smell, 
and she opened the door to her small room.  I pushed aside her 
dirty blouse, held her soft breast and kissed her quickly.  "Later, 
soon," I said and closed the door, feeling the urge rise.

	Lisa was in bed with a lamp burning on the windowsill.  I knelt 
beside her and touched her leg.

	"You all right?" I asked.

	She nodded, holding the old quilt right up to her chin, mouth 
clenched, curls to her shoulders.

	"And you don't want to lie with me do you?"

	"Yes," she said, almost a whisper.  She nodded. "I really do."

	"I'm smelly, and I haven't shaved this month," I said, trying to 
keep it happy and light, painfully hard.

	"Please," she said clearly.  "I'll have nightmares.  All that blood."

	"I'll stay here until you go to sleep, hold your hand," I said.

	She sat up and let the cover fall into her lap.  Her jutting 
breasts were young and firm, pyramidal, rosebud tipped and blue 
veined.  I do not believe I've ever seen another pair like them, 
another set as pointed at they were.

	"I'm not a virgin," she said, looking down at the small hands 
clasped in her lap.

	"But you are sixteen," I said.

	"I can't help that," she cried lifting her hands to my face, pulling 
my lips to hers, kissing me, pushing her tongue into my mouth and 
flicking it up and down.

	"No," I said, forcing my hands to stay away from her lean 
body, her lovely little breasts.  "I have a few rules, just a few."

	"Get in bed, hold me," she sobbed, turning back the quilt to 
show me her white body with its small patch of pubic hair, curly and 
golden.

	I sat, pulled off my boots, unbuttoned my britches and slid out 
of them, stood and turned to face her, my scarred and hairy body 
fully lit by the small lamp.  My enraged member had subsided a bit 
and now lay tumescent between my legs, still long and swollen, 
looking like a white-skinned sausage with a rope-knot head and a 
blue-veined casing.

	The girl put her hand to her mouth at the sight as her young 
body stimulated me, and my shaft trembled, filled and began to rise.

	"No," she said, shaking her ringlets. "No, you were right.  No, 
I couldn't, `sblood." She shivered and grabbed the quilt, a very 
pleasant sight as she grasped it between her firm, upright boobies.

	I braced, knotting up my muscles, put my hands in the small of 
my back, thrust it out and felt the blood pump into my hardening 
root.  I glanced down at its huge, purple head and then looked at 
the girl again, smiling as evilly as I could.  She could not take her 
eyes from it.  She waved, sank to the mattress, turned her back and 
pulled up the covers, making herself very small as the thing jumped 
above her.

	I walked to the window and blew out the lamp, caught her 
peeking up at me, at my thrusting and trembling mast.  I smiled 
down at her and said, "Go to sleep.  Won't be far away."

	I went and stood with my back to the door for a few minutes, 
enjoying the feel of my upright and freed member, stroking it a time 
or two, eager to get it planted in some willing woman's flesh. I 
palmed my swollen stones.  Then I left, closed the door quietly, and 
entered the serving girl's room.  She was sitting on the side of her 
bed in her well-worn shift, waiting.  She smiled when I entered and 
held up her arms.  I stepped between her legs and she took my 
prod's head in her soft mouth, sucking and licking, holding my 
throbbing ballocks firmly until I came, groaning and pumping, my 
hands in her hair.

	She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, pulled her 
shift over her head and rolled under her covers, showing me her 
wide bottom and dark, hairy pussy.  I was right behind her and 
quickly into her.  Hers proved to be a well-traveled throughway, 
but we enjoyed each other until we were completely spent.  And 
when she got to snoring, I found my shirt and went back to Lisa's 
room on tip-toes.  I got my shirt on, crawled carefully in beside the 
sleeping girl, turned my back to her and was immediately asleep, 
well satisfied, the blood wiped away by lustful rogering.

	I awoke just before dawn with a painful and gigantic erection, 
rolled over and let the thing rise above my belly, quivering.  I 
stroked it from atop the quilt, almost forgetting the young girl who 
shared the bed.  She turned over and opened an eye.  She kissed 
my stubbled cheek and let her fingers play in my chest hair, 
humming to herself.

	"Good morning," she sighed.  "Did you have fun?"

	I held my peace, enjoying the feeling of both my pulsing spear 
and the warm youngster next to me, her slim leg against mine, firm 
breast on my arm.

	"I could hear you moaning and groaning next door.  Then the 
bed started thumping the floor."  Her exploring hand slid down my 
belly and into the hair of my groin.  "What were you doing?"

	"Now, Lisa," I said, making the overheated pike jump again 
and again, rubbing its head on the quilt's seams, "you told me you 
weren't a virgin."

	"But, `sblood, you went on and on." Her fingers found the 
base of my straining cock in its hairy bed.  They encircled it as best 
they could and her little finger probed at my fuzzy scrotum.

	"Lisa," I said as her hand moved up my shaft until she was 
cupping the thing's monstrous head.

	"Let me see it again," she whispered, flipping back the quilt.  
She held it halfway down the thick-veined shaft and looked at it as it 
jumped and pulsed in her grip.  She swallowed and bit her lips.  Her 
bare chest rose and fell rapidly.  My mouth wanted her and my cock 
wanted even more.

	I lay back and let her play, getting pleasure however it came.  I 
heard and felt her breathing change as she stroked the rigid thing 
with both hands, feeling its ribbed construction, the bulging blood 
vessel along its underside, its ridged and hooded head as she held 
back its loose skin.

	"Come," she said, "I must feel it in me." She released me and 
turned to all fours, raising her rump in invitation.  

	"No," I said.  "It would hurt you." I smacked her round bottom 
lightly.

	She sniffed, collapsed and turned over again, touching the 
overheated rod with a fingertip.  "Doesn't it hurt?" she asked, 
poking it with a fingernail.  It bounded back.

	"Not really," I admitted.  "It feels good."

	She ran her fingers down its length, scratching lightly.

	"Its head likes to be touched, tickled," I told her.

	"I did a boy with my hands, a year or so ago.  He showed 
me," she said, "you should have heard him moan," and she began 
hand over hand stroking my engorged member, harder and faster, 
down and down again, until I came,  jetting up steams of sticky jism.  
I sighed and relaxed while she wiped her hands on me and then 
bent to kiss my mouth.

	After a hoecake breakfast, we walked and talked a bit, 
enjoying each other's company and the fine day.  Supper was more 
stew, which seemed to be all the cook knew about, and I enjoyed a 
pipe and conversation with some of the locals while Lisa sat and 
watched, hands folded, her simple dress emphasizing her youth. I 
gave the tavern wench a few shillings, pinched her and said I would 
see her later.  Then I took Lisa up to her room.

	"You broke your promise," she whispered when I closed the 
door behind us. "Stay with me tonight; don't go to her."

	"She's more my size, Lisa," I said, prying her hands off my 
arms.

	"Let me try," she begged, "please, please."

	"No, I might hurt you.  You saw that thing, felt it this 
morning."

	She sniffed.  "You aren't fair.  I've had some boys, a lot of 
boys."

	"Bundling?" I asked.

	She nodded.

	"More than that?"

	She shook her head and looked down.  "Just fingers," she said. 
"Kisses."

	"You still have your maidenhead?"

	She nodded again and sniffed.  "I can't help that."

	"Tell you what," I said, bending to kiss her briefly.  "I'll let you 
feel it, but I won't deflower you.  Save it for your husband, be a 
good wife.  You'll be proud you did."

	"All right," she said, "but it isn't fair."

	I led her to the foot of the bed, had her spread her feet and 
grab the wooden crossbar.  Then I flipped up her skirt and 
petticoat, admired her rounded buttocks, caressed them and 
unlimbered my hardening member.  The wrinkled weapon stiffened 
in my hand, and I wet my thumb and greased its blood-hot head.  
Then I very carefully inserted it into her narrow, pink quim, barely 
in to her, trembling in anticipation.

	"How does that feel?" I asked, holding her hips and resisting 
the urge to impale her. Her lips quivered on my prong's hot head.

	"Uh," she said, arching her back, "I don't know."

	I pushed, perhaps an inch into her.

	"Oh," she gasped, "Oh my, oh my.  I can feel that.  Oh my."

	I drew it out to her lips and let it slid back into its hard-won 
inch.

	"Um," she moaned, wiggling her butt, growing moister.

	I backed off again.

	"Don't," she sobbed, and I slid my hand about her and gently 
massaged her groin.

	We kept this up for perhaps ten minutes, a strain on me, and 
I'm not sure what it was for her but she snorted and moaned quiet 
nicely.  She eventually lowered herself to the floor and turned to 
hold my knees while my eager weapon reared above her curly head. 
She sighed.

	"Enough?" I asked, putting it away and buttoning up.

	She nodded, and I helped her to her feet.

	"See you in the morning," I said, adjusting my britches.

	"Uh huh," she said, still shaking, her hands at her breasts as I 
closed the door.

	"What took you so long," the serving girl asked as I stripped 
out of my clothes.  "You ain't taking up with children are you?"

	"Tucking her in," I said as I mounted the wench and sheathed 
my heated pole in her. She gasped and raised her legs.  This time I 
got her to the point of actually enjoying it instead of just pretending, 
and when we finally stopped, thoroughly spent, tangled together 
with the quilts, she moaned and kissed me, sobbing with pleasure, 
her quim a sodden mess.

	I slept with her and awoke with my usual gift from the gods of 
lust.  She looked at it, touched it, licked her lips and turned to all 
fours, raising her rump to take it from behind.  Soon her forehead 
was against the board wall between her room and the girl's, and we 
were making all sorts of animal sounds.  She took the second 
swiving that morning at the foot of her bed after using her chamber 
pot and gasped again and again when she climaxed, bending her 
knees and flexing hard.  I must admit that I imagined young Lisa as I 
rammed it up into her.

	The woman collapsed on her bed while I dressed.  She refused 
any more money and just lay there smiling as I closed the door.  Lisa 
was fully awake, almost dressed when I entered her room.

	"Damn you," she hissed at me.  "You didn't have to batter 
down the wall with her, did you?"

	I smiled.  "Be happy it wasn't you taking that shagging," I said.

	She nodded and laced up her boots, still sniffing angrily.  The 
stage came an hour or so later, and I went back to the war.


	

<1st attachment end>


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