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From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 043 (MFf hist)
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Date: Fri, 14 May 2004 18:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 043.txt" begin>

Rebel 043 (Old Bill) (MFf hist)

On the Hudson

	I was never much of a sailor although I had worked on the 
Bay one summer with an uncle of mine who lived just north of 
Annapolis.  I learned a lot in a short time over there including a few 
things about girls, and I became convinced that those stories about 
oysters just ain't so.  I was maybe fourteen or fifteen and never 
thought of anything but girls as I recall.  Nevertheless, under my 
lieutenant's questioning, I had to admit that I could swim and that I 
knew bow from stern and a little something about sails and ropes.  
He sent me down to the river where that was a dilapidated ketch or 
snow or some such craft loaded to the gunwales with flour and 
ready to sail upriver to supply our hungry army in the river forts.  I 
did recall sailing up that river once before but never saw much on 
that trip except female skin. The crew had deserted after being fired 
upon, and the owner and his wife and daughter were the only ones 
left aboard. I arrived late in the day when the river was turning red 
and the swifts were insect hunting.

	I introduced myself, ogled the women a bit since both were 
first class lookers, and asked what plans they had.  The ship's 
owner, a grizzled fellow with a bad eye and a missing thumb, said 
his orders were to deliver the flour to a pier six miles north of 
Newburgh and get paid there.  His cursed his vanished crewmen 
colorfully and at length.

	"Tain't safe til y'gets above West Point," he said, shaking his 
head.  "Tain't wirf it neither."  His wife nodded agreement,  She 
was at least a generation younger than the man.  If she was thirty 
I'd have been surprised and he was nearer sixty, maybe more.  His 
face looked like an old saddlebag and the little hair he had left was 
pewter colored.

	"Ain't been paid, y'know," he declared, squinting up at me.  
"Mought make it if'n we kin stay out in the middle there.  And if 
them damn'd black-sided war boats don' catch us."

	I looked out at the old river than was churning past, carrying a 
lot of limbs and such from way upstream.  The unpainted boat sat 
deep in the water, and its sturdy single mast and long bowsprit held 
flapping canvas that looked to be more mending than cloth. 

	"I'll try it, if you want?" I said, showing off for the women 
shamelessly as I stood spraddlelegged, sucking in my gut.

	"You ain't takin' my boat nowheres th'out me," the man said 
loudly, jutting out his bewhiskered chin, his big paw on one of the 
tarred ropes.

	"Now Silas," his wife said, holding his arm.  "This boy'll do for 
a crew.  Look a'the size of him.  That's what he meant."

	I glanced at the daughter, who was yet to say anything.  She 
sat in the sternsheets, her arms folded across her chest, her mouth a 
thin line, ankles crossed, a very pretty little piece but icy as January.  
So we used the time to tighten down the canvas covers over the big 
bags of flour and repair some of the well-worn rigging.  They left me 
with some food and went off to their hovel at the dockside while I 
saw to it that my horse would be cared for and spead my bedroll in 
the low-ceiling cockpit just forward of the shaky rudder, splintered 
seat and worn tiller. The boat might have been blue at one time, but 
it had not seen any paint since Fort Duquesne was in French hands.

	I was getting used to the sounds and the motion, almost asleep 
when someone stepped aboard, and I quickly had my big knife in 
my hand.

	"You all right?" a woman's voice asked.  "Have enough to 
eat?"

	The old man's wife introduced herself as Nancy and sat beside 
the tiller looking down at me, smiling, licking her lips.  "You sure 
about this here trip north?" she asked. "Could be dangerous."

	I ran my hand up her leg and smiled back at her.  "Getting 
more sure all the time," I said.

	"Damn," the woman whispered as I gripped her thigh, "you 
do take liberties."

	I pulled her down beside me without much effort and 
absolutely no struggle, my hand cupping her butt.  Her mouth was 
full and moist, her tongue was active and her body warm and lush.  
I laid her down, flipped her dress up, rolled between her wide-
spread legs, entered her easily and had her up on her shoulders 
whinnying like a colt in jig time as the lap-straked sides slapped the 
river.  She wrapped her legs about my waist and devoured my 
mouth while I rogered her quickly to a highly satisfying conclusion 
that rocked the laden boat wildly and left us both sweat-soaked and 
panting.

	"By damn," she said when we pulled our sodden groins apart, 
"by damn."

	We lay side by side on my blanket and some folded sails, 
feeling at each others body and hoping for some more pleasure.  
"How did you come to marry old Silas?" I asked her while she 
stroked my limp member back to life and I licked at her jutting 
nipples and explored her hairy mound.

	"Debts, mainly," she said as I massaged her.  She writhed 
beneath my hand when I found her rigid nubbin with my thumb and 
slipped two fingers into her.

	"You married before?"

	"Oh, yes," she said, after pulling her mouth from mine.  "He 
went off to Boston after that Concord fight.  Died on Breed's Hill.  
Had a dozen stab wounds they told me, front and back.  Poor boy."

	"So," I asked running one hardening nipple through my 
fingers while I sucked her other breast.

	"Ah, that's nice," she sighed.  "So, I had a mortgaged boat 
and bills to pay.  Silas come along and offered to take both them and 
me.  I was hungry and couldn't see a way out."  She swung a leg 
over my body, bent low in the confined space and sucked my turgid 
member until it was upright and then clambered forward and 
impaled herself with a heartfelt grunt, and we began again.  I held 
her firm butt and pressed hard, really straining as it jerked and leapt 
inside her.  She gasped and flexed back and forth on my spear until 
we found a rhythm that pleased us both.  Then we swived on 
relentlessly if slowly until she spasmed and moaned, slobbering on 
my chest as she heaved about, gasping, "Harder, harder."  I 
clenched my jaw, rolled her over, gave her all I had at double time 
and finally collapsed beside her, well satisfied.  She must have left 
soon after that because all three of them appeared the next time I 
opened my eyes.  

	 The old man had me pull up the rusty anchor and untie his 
craft from the pilings.  Together we pushed her out in the stream, 
got her turned about and the oft-patched mainsail hoisted.  We 
headed north on the morning breeze.  The owner steered and 
cursed while his daughter and I tended the sails and her step-
mother unpacked some food.  I enjoyed working with the girl 
whose loose-fitting bodice flapped about her bare waist and gave 
me a good view of her young breasts, flat stomach and spinal 
groove.  She had long legs and a shapely ass.

	We made slow but steady progress, tacking a zig-zag path 
from bank to bank or away from the lee shore, clawing northward.  
After a couple of bruising hits, I learned to duck the swinging boom 
and had time to discover that the girl was Sue, ripe as a September 
apple I decided, ready to pluck.  The old man called himself Brown, 
a name that fit him well.  Sue and I bumped into each other enough 
times to say we were acquainted, but still she had not spoken to me 
when things got a bit exciting.  

	We had been on the river about two hours when the girl 
screeched, "Look!" and shots banged out at us from the shore.  It 
was an long musket shot, but we saw splashes where the fire from 
the cliff top struck the water near us, and one shot tore at the jib 
sail.  Mr. Brown turned sharply toward the right bank.  I shaded my 
eyes and guessed it was militia or Germans up there, maybe a score 
of them blasting away, enjoying themselves as I had done a time or 
two.  I could see the powder smoke clouds clearly but only heard 
the shots faintly when the wind was right.

	"Damn," the old man yelled when a lucky shot hit the tiller, 
jarring his hand. He ducked his head and steered his heavy craft 
right into the river bank at a sandy place.  The old boat shuddered.  
Brown tossed the anchor over the side, jumped to the shale like a 
man half his age and scrambled toward the hillside.  "C'mon," he 
called at the women.

	"No," his wife yelled at him.  "I'm goin' on.  We need the 
money.  Sue can go back with you if she wants."  The girl shook her 
head and then glared at me, pulling her gaping bodice closed over 
her high, pink orbs and clamping her knees together.

	"Our home's right over there, top a'that hill," she said, 
pointing.  She had a light and pleasant voice.  "We don't live down 
on the dock."

	I hoisted the anchor back in and then had to jump off the bow 
into knee-deep water to push the boat free of the sand and get her 
back in the stream.  Nancy took the rudder, and Sue and I got the 
sails more or less trimmed as we heeled over.  We stayed as close as 
we could to the eastern bank with good wind mostly from the south 
and southwest bellying out the sails now and then and almost 
pushing a rail into the river.

	Rain whipped in just before sunset.  At Nancy's order we 
furled the sails, and she let the boat drift to the shore under some 
oddly leaning trees.  I doubt if we had made ten miles and had at 
least twice that far to go.  We crouched together under a tarpaulin 
and munched some cold meat and hard bread.

	"How long you been married?" I asked Nancy as she leaned 
back against the combing of the small cockpit.

	"Hm," she mused, "almost a year now."

	"What happened to your ma?" I asked the girl, trying to look 
pleasant.

	"None a'your business," she said, tossing a bit of gristle over 
the side.

	"She ran off with another boat owner, rich Tory down 
Brooklyn way," Nancy said with a smile.  "Silas and me, we was 
living together already.  Sue don't like me much."

	"Whore bitch," Sue spat at the older woman.

	"She ain't really his daughter.  Her father died.  He was some 
sort a'kin," the woman said, finding a clay pipe in her pocket.

	"How long you been with him?" I asked the girl.

	She shook her head.  There were tears in her eyes.

	"She's been used some," the woman said to me very quietly.  
"Silas dragged her out of a place up in the hills."

	"He's my uncle," the girl said, wiping her nose on her hand. 
"Silas is."

	"Hush," Nancy hissed at us.  "Listen." Somebody nearby 
whistled.

	I saw to my musket and checked that my big blade was loose 
in its scabbard.  Now we all heard the voices more clearly and the 
sound of brush being crunched underfoot somewhere in the dark 
woods.  A lantern flickered open and then disappeared.

	"I knows they's down her somewhere's," a man said in a 
husky half-whisper. "It's what she said."

	"Shit," said somebody else. "You sure?"

	"I seen `em too," a third voice said. "This here's the place."

	"Over there, by them trees," the first said, and I heard a 
weapon being cocked.

	I pushed the women's heads down a bit ungently and lay on 
my belly waiting for our visitors to break from cover, but I never 
saw them until one stepped aboard at the stern, right behind me, 
rocking the boat.  I came up swinging my musket and hit him in the 
face with the stock, flinging him back into the water with a roar and 
splash.

	A gun flared from the shore, and I heard the ball strike the 
hull but could see nothing to shoot at.  The man in the water 
floundered and splashed. He called for help once and then that 
distraction ended.  

	"Throw out that gun," somebody yelled from the woods.

	"Go to hell," Sue yelled back.

	Again a musket pan and muzzle flared, and I fired, but got no 
result.  Then somebody out there in the dark cried out," Nancy, that 
you?  You got the flour?"

	"Yeah," the woman replied, "but we got a problem."  Her 
shoulder was touching mine in the tiny cockpit, her hands on my 
musket, holding it down.

	"What?" came the yell.  "Who's shootin' at us.  Near blew my 
head off."

	"Soldier," Nancy yelled, putting one hand on my arm.  "Want 
t'cut him in?"

	"Reckon," said another voice.  "Where's Buck at?"

	"Think he fell in," Nancy said loudly.  "You want'a join us?" 
she asked me quietly, feeling for my member. When I hesitated, 
suddenly, she shoved me in the chest and was gone in a flash of 
legs.  "Shoot, shoot," she yelled from in front of me.  "I'm ashore, 
shoot!"

	I ducked down and two guns boomed out of the darkness.  I 
pulled my big blade and cut the anchor rope.

	"You all right?" the girl asked, her voice coming from about my 
knee level as the boat shuddered as a ball struck the mast.

	"Stay down," I whispered.  "Be quiet." the boat stirred and 
then began to rotate.

	"They're gettin' away," Nancy yelled from somewhere in the 
woods.

	A gun boomed out, and again I shot back at the bright flare.  
A man screamed this time, and he kept on screaming as the current 
caught us, and we began moving back down the black river.  I 
grabbed the tiller and steered for midstream, just letting the heavy 
boat rock along freely.  Soon the girl came up and sat beside me, her 
eyes very big.

	"She sold him out," she said.  "Guess she did.  She'd 
threatened before."

	"Looks like it," I said.  "You hold this steady, and I'll get a sail 
up."  The wind was right in our face.

	Soon we were moving back upstream against the current, but 
this time we were nearer the western shore.  It was a moonless 
night, and we ghosted along, somewhere south of Peekskill I 
guessed.

	"You're probably right," Sue said.  "Ought to raise West Point 
tomorrow by noon."

	"You want to go with this, do the job?" I said as our knees 
touched in the dark.

	"Why not?  You all need food don'cha?"

	"Yep," I said, "Lot of empty stomachs."

	"So?" she said, putting her hand on my thigh.

	The hull bumped a rock reminding me that it really was not 
safe to try to move along the river at night.  I dropped the sheet, 
and Sue wiggled us to shore, flapping the tiller like an oar.  It still 
was not very late, and the excitement had my blood up.

	"I'm not surprised," Sue said after I tied us up to a tree with a 
long painter and reloaded my musket.  "Bout her I mean."

	I sat beside the girl and put my arm about her slim shoulders.  
She moved closer and put her head back, wiggling to get 
comfortable.  "Really?" I said enjoying her warmth and smell.

	"Nope, she's been wanting things lately, a new dress, pretties, 
silver spoons."

	"Oh," I said.  "And you?"

	"Oh, me too, but a deal's a deal, and Silas made this one, so," 
she exhaled, "so let's finish it."  She stretched up and put her mouth 
on mine.  Her lips were warm and cracked, but her tongue was soft 
and alive.  I slid my hand down the front of her limp dress and 
cupped her round, young breast. It felt like a green apple.

	"Um," she said.

	We kissed some more and undressed each other in between 
kisses.  I took her atop a bundled sail, bracing my toes on the back 
wall of the cockpit while her feet thumped on the roof just above 
our heads.  She was tight and eager, grunting with effort and 
arching up against my ram.  She came with a squeal and spasm that 
clamped my hard-driving lance deep within her.

	"Don't, don't," she gasped, pushing on me as I thrust faster 
and deeper.  "Please, pull it out, pull it out."

	Reluctantly I withdrew my steaming prick.  It trembled and 
shook between us.

	"I'm sorry," she sobbed, taking it in both hands and stroking it 
firmly, down and down again.  I was bent over on my knees, trying 
to hold back but then groaning when I came, pumping out into the 
darkness with the bare girl holding the blood-hot thing as it jumped 
and flexed. "I'm sorry," she whispered, bending to lick its swollen 
head when it finally stopped and softened a bit.

	"I understand," I said to her mouth.  "You sleep now.  I'll 
stand guard for a bit."  I was shaking.

	She moaned and nodded, her head on my chest.  I patted her 
back, and she found her skirt and rolled up in the far corner of the 
small cockpit.  I stood at the side of the boat and pissed out my 
discontent and then sat, wanting a pipe badly.

	I guess I fell asleep because the girl woke me with a jab in the 
ribs.  "Somebody's out there," she whispered.  "I heard `em calling."  
She was still bare to the waist, somewhat distracting. "Could hear 
oars splashing."

	I listened to water lapping the shore and the hull.  Then, very 
faintly, "Sue, hey Sue." It was a woman's voice; Nancy we guessed.  
The girl moved into my arms and sat on my lap. I was about half 
hard, dreaming I suppose, unsatisfied I knew.

	"Gold," came the call, a bit nearer.  "Your share's twenty 
pounds, British gold, Sue.  Yell out!  We'll find you."

	I bent and kissed her as my hand crawled up her thigh.  
"Twenty pounds," I whispered in her ear as I cupped her bottom.

	She undid my foreflap buttons, and my aching member leapt 
out, like an unchained prisoner.  She teased its gross head with her 
finger tips and nibbled my ear, breathing fast.

	"Twenty pounds," came the cry, somewhat fainter.  "Sue, call 
out, girl."

	Her knees were beside my butt and my hands were filled with 
her buttocks when I entered her, thrusting upward.  "Um," was all 
she said when it popped in, but then she started saying it again and 
again, faster and faster as I delved deeper. She arched back against 
my grip and shook, her fingers digging into my shoulders.  Then she 
grunted, bent forward, and collapsed on my chest while I continued 
to enjoy myself in her.

	"Soon, soon," I whispered as my body warned that I was 
about to reach my climax, feeling the old surge in my loins.  She 
wiggled back from me, stayed planted on my knees and took my 
explosion in her bare hands as I jetted sperm clear up to her elbows, 
gritting my teeth to keep from crying out with release.

	"Damn, damn," she sobbed, washing her arms in the river.  
"You need to sleep.  There an old hammock you can use.  Goes from 
corner to corner."  We found it, got it hooked up and I rolled in, still 
needing more than sleep.  She bent and kissed me sweetly, and I 
sank into darkness, both hands in my sore crotch.

	I woke before she did, tried to ignore my engorged condition, 
relieved myself in the Hudson and untied the boat.  We gnawed on 
some stale bread and got moving up river again.  "West Point might 
feed us," I suggested.

	"Or sink us," she said with a smile, buttoning up the front of 
her dress.

	"Do you have Silas's papers, bill of lading, that sort of thing?"

	She proudly produced them from a waterproof packet.  We 
had an uneventful morning, were stopped by the ropes and chains 
at West Point and, after our papers were examined, and Sue was 
carefully looked over, we did get some food and were allowed to 
pass. (It was a couple of years later, I think, that they got that huge 
and heavy chain that everybody knows about.)

  The girl steered us to shore in a backwater and we ate and 
then made love, fiercely and eagerly like it might be the last time.  
She enjoyed riding me out on the deck after I had spewed out my 
jism over the side and claimed she had never been atop before.  She 
was an eager rider, rocking to and fro, posting with a smile on her 
face and urging to me greater efforts despite my depleted resources.  
Her nipples jutted out like finger tips, and she sucked air between 
her clenched teeth when she came.

	The wind turned against us in the afternoon, battering us 
against what my uncle had taught me was a lee shore and to always 
be avoided.  We failed to make Newburgh by sunset.    We ate 
quietly, fondled and played with each other for a while, and then I 
stripped her, rigged up the hammock, plunked her into it on her 
back.  We did it with her legs outside the hammock's frayed edges 
and then with her feet up behind my head and finally with her legs 
outside mine, my horn pressing impossibly deep into her.  I managed 
to get us turned over, and she lay quietly atop me as we let our 
bodies simply enjoy the feel of being joined.  We slept, thoroughly 
entangled, and I awoke with a monstrous erection.

	I rolled out of the hammock and that woke Sue.  "What's 
wrong?" she asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

	"This," I said, turning to face her, fists on my hip, the tiller 
between my legs and my cock looking as long as its handle.

	"Oh," she said, putting a hand to her mouth. "Oh," she said 
again, unhooking one end of the hammock and letting it fall to the 
floor of the cockpit with the dirty sails.  "Come," she said, kneeling 
on the hammock with her back to me and holding tight to the still-
hooked end.  She gave me and my jumping bowsprit a worried look 
over her shoulder as I knelt behind her, got properly situated and 
drove my huge spike up into her willing girl flesh.  She gasped and 
arched, holding the tight-stretched hammock with both hands and 
flexing against it.  I sank my swollen mast into her until my belly was 
tight to her butt, and she came almost at once, crying out like a small 
animal and curling away from me, moaning, "Uh,uh, uh."  I drove 
deeper, holding her hips and we began enjoying my morning gift, 
rocking back and forth, thrusting and recoiling until I knew we both 
were on the verge of reaching our peaks.  Her second orgasm 
shuddered through her, and then she wriggled free, quietly turned, 
sat facing me with her legs spread wide, slit oozing her fluids, and 
pulled my straining cock into her mouth.  She licked and sucked its 
head until I came, my hands tangled in her hair, and she gulped and 
swallowed again and again as I pumped my ballocks dry.  When I 
finished we both sat in the tumble of sails, panting like race horses 
and smiling at each other. Her tongue flicked in a drip of jism from 
the corner of her mouth. I kissed her.

	"Again," I finally said, getting to my feet and helping her up 
into the cool morning air.  We stumbled to the mast, and I took her 
there.  Her legs came up above my hips, and I leaned her back to the 
huge tree and humped her furiously, leaving tarred rope marks on 
her shoulders. We rogered away until we both were satisfied.

	She stepped back and leapt into the river, emerging to shake 
the hair from her face.  I dove in feet first and sank into the mud.  
We splashed and enjoyed the feel of the cold water on our 
overheated bodies and then climbed back aboard.  I dried her with 
my shirt, helped her into her ragged dress and then got my britches 
on.

	When we reached our destination, there was Silas, waiting for 
us on the dock. "Tha's my boat an' my cargo," he told the lean 
quartermaster major beside him.  Sue and I clambered up, and she 
gave her uncle his papers with a smile.

	"Where's Nancy at?" the old man asked.

	"Run off," Sue said, elbowing me.

	Silas just shook his head.  We ate, watched the ship being 
unloaded, and then reboarded for the much faster trip home, going 
down with the current.  "Where is Sue?" I asked the old man as we 
got our gear stowed.

	"Thought she were wif you," he said, squinting at me.

	We did some searching, asked a few questions and found that 
she had ridden off on one of the supply wagons, sitting up beside 
the driver and wearing his hat.

	I went down river with Silas, and there was Nancy, all 
sweetness and full of apologies.  Silas wrapped her in his arms, and 
she made a face at me over his shoulder.  I fetched my horse and 
got back to the war, knowing less about women than I had the 
week before.


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