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From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 054 Madam Von R (MFFff)
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Date: Sun, 23 May 2004 15:10:04 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 054.txt" begin>

Rebel 054 (Old Bill) (MFFff hist)

Madam Von R


	When I met Madam Von R---- for the first time, she lifted her 
eyeglasses on their long stem and raised a quizzical eyebrow.  "I'm 
not sure we can hide anyone as big as this," she said to my captain's 
commanding officer, a major who was some sort of cousin or 
nephew. "It would be like concealing an elephant in a bushel basket."  
However they made a space for me under the cellar stairs that was 
quite comfortable, and I soon found that there were several 
members of her household staff with a serious need for male 
companionship from time to time.  I seldom slept alone except by 
choice, but I pursued the plump Margo without success due, mainly, 
to my schedule which involved very long nights and sleeping until 
noon many days.  

	Late one evening or early in the morning as I crept back to my 
cot and peeled off my soft and comfortable boots, I heard footsteps 
on the stairs that led up to the pantry.  "Hist," a female voice 
whispered as I took off my britches, "is that you?"

	I stood, barefoot and breechesless and welcomed a 
nightshirted young lady to my triangular cubicle.  Her long hair 
hung almost to her waist and she held a candle before her.  She 
raised her flickering light, looked me over, glanced at the narrow 
bed, smiled and blew out her taper.  A small, high window gave us a 
tiny bit of moonlight, and in a short time, our eyes adjusted.

	"I've heard the maids a'talking," she said with a musical lilt that 
might have suggested Ireland.  She stepped where I could touch her 
and feel her warmth.  "They say you can satisfy a girl that needs a 
man, that you can do it properly and in a short time if need be.  I 
must say, you're surely big enough for the task.  I'm the madam's 
goddaughter, Louisa May.  We haven't met."  She made a mock 
curtsey to me.  She was a very pretty young one, slim and petite 
with a happy smile and sparkling eyes, and she smelled good which 
made me think of my own condition.

	"Pleased," I said  "But I've just come in from an evening of 
street tramping, tobacco smoking and liquor drinking so I likely smell 
something awful, and I'm tired out and doubt that I'm in any shape 
to do any woman much benefit tonight.  Perhaps tomorrow, later in 
the day, before your meal." I smiled down at her and felt myself 
becoming aroused.

	"Oh," she said, pouting very prettily in the gloom.  She untied 
her neck bow and peeled her night dress from her narrow 
shoulders.  It slid to her elbows revealing a firm, upright pair of 
blue-veined white globes with high pink tips that looked slightly 
away from each other.  "My husband is far away, in the south 
seeking arms from the Spanish.  He's been gone two whole months.  
Couldn't you try?  I have done my best but I can't, well," she 
sniffed, "I can't satisfy myself.  It's not the same, even when I do 
succeed."  She had the odd habit of raising her voice at the end of 
most of her sentences, making them sound like questions.

	"However," I continued, reaching out for her boobies, 
caressing their smooth undersides and then weighing them in my 
palms, "if you can overlook my filthy state, I will do my best to meet 
your needs and try not to get you dirty."  I could hardly wait to get 
at her.  Her body seemed to glow with good health and emanate 
sexual desire.  She was truly juicy, panting to be had, squirming in 
my hands, rubbing her thighs together, her mouth agape, nipples 
extending as I rubbed them with my thumbs.

	"Perhaps just a sample this morning, a small taste then, until we 
can do better at another time, a more propitious time," she 
whispered, dropping her arms and allowing her gown to slip to the 
floor after it paused at her hips and well-rounded butt.  Her long, 
yellow tresses rested on her shoulders and cascaded down her 
back.  Her waist was high and the full curve of her hips very long.  
She took a deep and wonderful breath, placing her hands behind 
her and pushing her soft belly out at me, moving her small muff from 
side to side.

	"Yes" I said, kicking a stool toward her, "good idea, a small 
sample.  I haven't shaved for a week, miss, and I really don't think 
you want to bed such a large and smelly body as mine, not just now.  
I appreciate the sentiment, and I'll surely put you on the list once I'm 
more presentable." 

	She smiled and stepped carefully up on the milking stool which 
brought her eyes almost to my level.  I moved forward and grasped 
her firm buttocks and caressed them and her smooth legs.  I 
wondered how young she was.  She moaned nicely under my 
kneading.  "Oh, you are prickly," she said, touching my cheek, and 
then laughed at her own joke as my shirt tail tented out before me.

	I went down on one knee, held her gently, stroking her legs, 
tried not to rub her soft skin with my bearded face, and licked at 
her pouting, trembling lips, probing and pressing them apart with my 
fingers.  I pushed my tongue deeply into her and licked upward.  
Her breathing became very rapid indeed, and she closed her eyes 
with her hands full of my hair.  I explored with my tongue until I 
found her tiny prick and then paid homage to it until she gasped, 
liquefied and moaned, my big hands on her pelvis with my thumbs 
holding her wide open.  Then I stood carefully, moving my mouth 
up to her breasts, held down my striving member and let it slowly 
push up into her well-prepared passage.  I pulled her legs above my 
hips one by one as got my prod well and very tightly lodged, the 
ridged head well inside her inner lips.  She trembled and sucked in 
air.  I locked my wrists in the small of her back and said, "Now lean 
back and take a deep breath." She did and I impaled her fully.  She 
gasped and jumped as if she had been shocked, shuddering again 
and again as she sank onto the thick root. 

She exhaled loudly, "Hahh, ahh, ahh," and her body quivered 
all over. She kicked me steadily as I enjoyed her, pounding the back 
of my thighs with her heels, digging her fingernails into my back.   
"Oh, oh, oh," she sighed.  She was eager and active, writhing and 
groaning, humping me steadily.  She rose, ground against me with 
her head at my shoulder, mouth open, spasmed over and over, 
gushing fluids, then threw her head back, her tongue flopping in her 
mouth and her body bucking to and fro like a wild horse on a short 
tether.  I felt her legs peeling away from me, and I let her down to 
the stool, with my prematurely freed cock enjoying the feel of her 
body as I did so, rubbing at her navel and then up toward her 
warm breasts.  I doubt that we had been joined for five minutes.  It 
had been barely a taste but a fine and inviting one that left me 
wanting much more.

	I stepped back and stood a bit sideways to her, and she got 
her breathing under control with her head on my chest and my arm 
about her, patting her rump.  I dumped her gown over her head 
and she shook it down her slim body and tied the ribbon at her 
throat without taking her eyes from my face.  She rose on her toes, 
kissed my stubbled cheek sweetly and left with her dark candle, 
breathing deeply.  I tumbled into bed, grabbed my cock and slept 
like a stone.

	A few hours later, with the sun fully abroad in the land, I 
awoke to the usual noises in the house and the tap of shoes on the 
rude stairs above my head.  I wondered if I had dreamed of the 
longhaired girl in the white nightgown as the same girl, now fully 
dressed, brushed aside my blanket-door and stepped into my small, 
bare room, looking serious.

	"Good morning, sir," she said, while I lay there dumbfounded 
and thoroughly erect, "I believe I did you a disservice last night, 
earlier, you know, early this morning.  In fact, I can see I did."  She 
quickly stepped out of her stiff skirt and ruffled petticoat, tossed 
aside her fancy bodice as though it were but a trifle, pulled my 
blanket down, swung a leg over me as if she was mounting a wide-
bodied horse and sat on my thighs, smiling, still wearing her shoes 
and stockings as well as her lacy shift and very narrow, tight-laced 
stays, her long hair was combed and dressed for the day and her 
round breasts pushed up and close together by her fancy, tightly 
laced corset.

	I slid my hands under her shift, admired her slim body and the 
bulging breasts above her lace and stay strings and said, "Did you?  
I can't recall."

	"Um," she said, bending to kiss my root's trembling head 
briefly.  "I got what I wanted without any consideration of your 
needs, very selfish of me.  You were very good, even if you were 
tuckered out, very strong and considerate."   She licked her lips and 
held my gaze while I petted her hard, round bottom.  She 
swallowed and then rose on her knees, put her hands down on my 
shoulders and let her round breasts hang in my face.  Then she 
lowered herself very slowly, biting her lower lip.  I held my huge 
lance at the hairy base and she took it in, wiggling her hips right and 
left as she did.  It took some effort and that showed on her pretty 
face.  It was like putting a ten-pound ham in a skin meant for a five-
pound sausage.

	"Oh my," she gasped, shaking her head and drooling a bit, "I 
thought all men were about the same, but," she stopped and shook, 
sucking in air.  I held her gently at the hips and thighs as my 
disappearing ram exercised itself within her.  She changed her hands' 
position to my stomach, sat up straighter. She gasped loudly, put her 
hands behind her head and turned her body right and left, heaving 
and squirming as she attempted to settle herself in the saddle.  She 
squealed and then fell on my chest, her arms limp and palms turned 
up at my sides.  "Can't believe it," she moaned.  "I'm ruined.  I can't 
do it; it's just too much, too much.  It just won't go in."

	We lay together for some time, about halfway joined, my rod 
perhaps a hand deep, and remained entertained observers of our 
bodies' passionate wants while I petted her back, and then after 
fifteen or twenty minutes of probes, jumps and throbs, she roused 
herself, panting when I had nearly all of my stake in her.  "Please," 
she said, stretching up to take my mouth briefly, "be gentle."  I was 
for a long time, finally fully lodging my mighty pole fully within her, 
but she became more demanding after that and at length found 
herself under me, kicking her legs wildly, crying out, "Please, please, 
please," until I was done and kissed her cheek.  Her hair was a mess, 
but she was smiling and gasping.

	We sat beside each other on the edge of my bed, proud and 
satisfied, needing nothing more from each other.  "That ought to 
hold me until Christmas," the girl said, laughing.

	"You're awful strong for your size," I told her, patting her back 
and nibbling her ear.

	"So are you," she said and she laughed, stood on trembling 
legs, dressed carefully and left, still breathing hard and trying to 
push her hair into shape.

	I got some breakfast and went back to bed. And that was the 
night I fell in among thieves, as they say, so it is a good thing I got 
so thoroughly laid.

	Early the next morning I was in a fancy house near the docks 
when I heard a loud voice asking, "Who the hell is it that's so damn 
interested in the Royal Navy?"

	I could not hear the answer, but I knew I had not been careful 
enough somewhere along the line.  I headed for the back door, 
pulling my big bayonet from its scabbard as I moved.  I eased the 
door open and found two Royal Marines with muskets awaiting me. 
I scurried back upstairs, entered the first room with a light showing 
and found myself facing a large caliber pistol in a steady hand.  Four 
men sat at a round table playing cards under a shaded lamp while a 
mulatto woman stood at the window, looking surprised, her flimsy 
robe open to show her hard breasts and strong body.

	"Closed game?" I asked as the man with the pistol raised an 
eyebrow.

	"Who the hell are you?" he said.

	"Man looking to hide in plain sight," I told him, pulling out a 
chair and pushing some loose coins in front of me as feet pounded 
on the carpeted stairs.  The man sat and his pistol disappeared.  The 
dark woman pulled her robe closed and answered the thuds on the 
door panel.

	In stepped a naval officer, all braid and bluster.  I slouched and 
kept my back to him.  "We're looking for a man, common dressed, 
big man, seen in the front room a few minutes ago."

	The man whose pistol I had studied stood.  "Sorry sir," he said,  
"we've been here since sundown.  Ask Cindy there if we ain't.  She 
knows us."

	The girl evidently nodded or smiled or somehow vouched for 
us and the door closed.  I pushed my borrowed coins back to their 
owner.  "Got any a'yer own?" he said with a smile.  I produced my 
purse and jangled it in my palm.

	It was a high stakes game with one strange twist, every time 
the deal got back to the banker, we played a "Cindy" hand and the 
winner not only got the pot, he got a turn with the lissome young 
lady on a couch along the far side of the room.  We had plenty to 
drink, a bit to eat, and some very quiet and serious card playing.  
When one of the men was being served by the tea-colored whore, 
we hardly heard his grunts for our concentration.  Despite her 
abilities, or perhaps because of them, the winner seldom missed more 
than one deal and once, when the same man won twice in a row, he 
made an odd face before he went to take his winning opportunity.

	I won and lost, lost and won, but never took the Cindy hand 
until the sun was starting to rise.  By then there were only three of 
us left, but the pots had grown with doubled bets and pushes until 
perhaps ten pounds or more was on the table and available for the 
turn of a single card.  I almost whooped when my missing ace 
showed up, raked in my pile and stood, working on my waist 
buttons.

	"Wait," said the dealer.  "We all chipped in for her, a quid."  

	I said, "Help yourself," gesturing at my winnings and shook 
the girl awake.

	"Damn," she said, "Hoped you'd never win, big as you is."  She 
laid me down, pulled my britches to my knees, washed my privates 
gently but thoroughly, and got me pumping in quick march time.  
She was getting off of me before I realized that I had come.  "That 
there's some mighty tool y'got," she said as I buttoned up and got 
back to the table.

	The game was soon over, the players left, groggy and satisfied 
and the dealer riffled the cards and gestured me to a chair.

	"Redcoats're interested in you," he said.  It was not a question.  
I nodded and watched his nimble fingers manipulate the cards.

	"You a bit nosy, are you?"  He lifted an eyebrow and I nodded 
again.

	"What they pay me for," I said.

	"Who?"

	"Continental Congress."

	"You hiring?"

	"Pay for information, sometimes," I said.

	"All right," he said.  "How `bout a list of the major ships, their 
compliments, commanding officers, number of guns, that sort of 
thing?"

	"Think we got most of that."

	He pondered and rubbed his chin.  "Cornwallis's cipher?"

	"The odd-shaped one?"  I drew it in the air.

	"No, this is like two circles of different sizes."

	"Ten pounds," I said.

	"Twenty," he said.

	"They change regularly."

	"But they go back to the old ones, don't they?"

	"Fifteen," I said and we shook.

	"Tomorrow night, right here," he said, and I left, a few shillings 
richer and well and truly laid by a professional.

	I went back to the mansion and slept away the day.  Near 
sundown I found Louisa May and asked her where the lady of the 
house might be.  "Off into the country," she said, "won't be back till 
Friday."

	"I need some money, some gold," I said.

	"How much?" she asked moving close enough for me to hold 
her.	"Twenty pounds at least," I said.

	"Come," she beckoned me with a crooked finger and I 
followed.  In her room on the second floor, she produced a folded 
purse and extracted a wad of paper money, British as well as 
American.  She smiled and held it out.  "Help y'self," she said.

	"Got any gold?" I asked trying not to act ungrateful.

	She dropped the bills on the floor and displayed a leather bag.  
It jingled heavily, and she clinked out five five-pound gold coins and 
was about to give me more when I stopped her, retrieved her bills 
and watched her toss the small fortune under her bed.

	"Now," she said, "you can say thank you properly.  You look 
very fine today, by the by."  I had shaved and was a good bit 
cleaner than the last time we had swived so I was hardly reluctant to 
accept her invitation. I even had found clean linen.  She sat on the 
edge of her bed; I stepped between her knees and she locked her 
legs about me and moaned happily as I rogered her to head-shaking 
excitement and heaving satisfaction.  She collapsed back on her 
counterpane.   I pulled her upright, kissed her, tongued her and 
said, "Thank you.  You're a real patriot.  And I will repay you."

	"No need," she said, clamping her arms around my ribs as far 
as they would go and kissing my sagging member. " But I've had 
enough for today, if y'don' mind."

	Much later and with my heavy purse in my hand, I walked into 
the room where the card game was promised as well as the cipher.  
Somebody hit me hard right behind the ear and I fell to my knees.  
He hit me again and I studied the rug briefly before I passed out.  
The fibers stood up like trees, all different colored trees, was my last 
thought.

	I came to in the same room, facing a bored-looking British 
naval officer.  Cindy sat on her couch smiling, and the card game 
banker clinked my five heavy coins in his nimble fingers and sat 
beside her.  My legs were bound to the chair and my arms tied to 
the chair's arms.  My shirt had been torn open and my pockets 
turned out.   But I could still feel the handle of my big bayonet 
poking my calf and wondered how they had missed that.

	"Now," said the lieutenant in his heavy coat and golden braid, 
"tell us your name."  The card player stopped playing with the coins, 
lifted a portable desk and dipped a pen in the small inkbottle.  I told 
them my name.  Then, after a bit of prodding, I told them I was 
from Maryland and that I had been in the militia but that my time 
had expired and I left.  I told them I was looking for work, doing 
odd jobs on the dock.  The officer hit me in the face with a heavy 
pair of gloves, gauntlets I think you would call them.  He hit me back 
and forth several times until he was puffing and stopped.  My nose 
was bleeding and my lips swelling.

	I looked across at Cindy and smiled.  He hit me again, splitting 
open my upper lip.

	"You are a stupid spy," he said.

	I denied it.

	"You offered to buy secrets."

	I denied it, and he hit me again.  I tasted blood and saw stars 
as his gloves flicked my eyelids.

	He asked who my commanding officer was, and he asked 
where my unit was camped.  I pled ignorance.  He pulled one glove 
on and hit me with his fist.  He really jarred me, and the area around 
my left eye quickly began to swell.

	"Cindy," he said.

	The girl came and sat before me holding the handle of a 
bronze pot that seemed to be smoking.  She withdrew a small piece 
of charcoal with some fancy pincers, blew on it until it glowed red 
and then touched it several times near my left nipple until the smell 
of burning hair and scorched flesh reached both of us.  I probably 
yelled and know I jumped and squirmed.  She smiled, dropped that 
piece to the floor and picked another from her bowl.  She blew on it 
and then held it out toward my already-damaged left eye.

	I jerked my head sideways and fell to the floor, chair and all.  
The officer kicked me and the man who had offered to sell me the 
cipher helped get the chair back on its feet.  Neither of the men 
noticed that the chair's arm had broken.

	Cindy resumed her seat and chose another piece of charcoal.  
She smiled at me and blew it to glowing redness.

	"Are you willing to be blinded for your foolish rebellion?" the 
officer asked.

	I yanked my right arm free, reached down to pull my bayonet 
from my boot, cut my right leg's bonds, stood on one foot and 
slashed at the officer, all in a second or two, missing him as he fell 
back over his compatriot.  Cindy screamed and the door burst open 
to admit two big Marines.  I lunged at the nearest one as he swung 
the butt of his musket at my head.

	When I awoke I was in a small, stone cell that smelled of 
garbage, urine and mold.  My head ached and I was hog-tied, my 
hands and feet bound and tied together behind my back.  I still had 
two eyes and gave thanks for that.  I rolled over and started 
rubbing the knots between my hands against the sharpest stone I 
could find in the lower part of the wall.  I had no idea what time it 
was or even what day it was.  I was hungry and scared. The cell 
was windowless and evidently deep underground.  It was very 
quiet except for a drip of water somewhere.  I rubbed until the heels 
of my hands bled and then I rubbed some more.

	When the cell door opened, it admitted no light, just a swish 
and a smell, a very fine and strong smell, roses, I thought.

	"Roll over," said a woman's voice.  I did and felt her sawing at 
the rope.  She cut my hands free and handed me my own bayonet.  
The feel of the thing comforted me and gave me confidence.

	"Cindy?" I asked.

	"Hated to see a man with such fine equipment die like a dog," 
she whispered.  "I'm with you.  I'm a Whig.  Ain't allowed to say 
who my boss is."

	"Where am I?"

	"Under the whorehouse."

	"Can you get me out?"

	"Maybe, it's mornin'.  Sorry `bout them burns."  She touched 
my chest with her fingers.

	I stood and followed her down narrow corridors and up 
stone steps to a locked door.  "This here leads outside at the back 
wall, if it ain't guarded," she said, producing a heavy key.  The lock 
creaked when she turned it.

	"Go," she said as the door swung out.

	"Hadn't you better come?"

	She shook her curly head.  "Can do more good in here," she 
whispered.  "Go on."

	I put my hand behind her head and kissed her hard.  Then I 
ran.  

	Since the British and their Tory friends now knew me, Lt. 
Foster and the captain agreed that my days as a spy might be ended 
for a while.  Louisa May and I managed to find an hour or so to 
ourselves before I was forced to go back to the real war, and she 
anointed the burn on my chest tenderly after exhausting me 
completely.

	"Would you like some wine?" she asked after smearing the 
unguent on my blistered wound.  My left eye was still swollen 
closed.

	I nodded, wondering if she had had enough for the time 
being.  I watched her unlace and remove her stays and feared she 
had not.  Still in her lacy shift, she brought me a big glass of 
burgundy.  "Good for your blood," she said, looking down at my 
shriveled member.

	"Isn't Mrs. Von R---- back?" I asked, stalling for time and 
gulping the wine.

	"No, but there's a man downstairs in the drawing room you 
might want to see.  He's telling stories about a Yankee spy who 
escaped from him, and it sounds a lot like you.  Big hairy chap, he 
said."  

	"What did he say?  Is he a naval officer?"

	She nodded, and then kissed me.

	"By damn," I said, "I'll kill the bastard."

	"He'll keep," she said.  "He's trying to seduce Margo.  Relax."

	I tried to do just that, lay back on the bed and let her do her 
work.  I was soon able to please the lady once more, and we 
galloped and pranced until we were both spent and sweaty.  I left 
her tangled in the covers, dressed quickly, clamped on my bayonet 
and ran down the stairs.  The sitting room was empty.  One of the 
servants smiled and pointed to the ceiling.  I hurried back up stairs, 
threw open Margo's door and found her busily undressing the 
Royal Navy lieutenant while he pawed her and nuzzled her lush 
breasts.  She was a lovely woman, full-bodied and nearly unclothed 
in her lace shift. I paused to admire her multitudinous charms.  My 
stones quivered, but anger triumphed over lust.

	The girl's eyes widened and she squeaked out a protest.  I 
spun the man around and hit him in the belly.  He fell to his knees 
and I dragged him by his collar to the stairs and let him tumble 
down, head first.  I fetched his sword and stuck his pistol in my belt.  
I grabbed Margo by a thick haunch and kissed her hard while I 
squeezed her oversized breast.  By the time I got down to him, he 
seemed to have recovered himself somehow, picked himself up, 
reached for his missing sword and faced me, very unhappy.

	"You," he cried, and I hit him in the face, aiming for his left eye.  
I bent his arm behind his back and marched him out of the big house 
and down past the slave quarters with his sword and belt in my 
other hand.  I was not sure what I was going to do with him, but I 
suspected that a man with his job might be valuable to our side.  The 
way I felt just then, I wanted to skewer him and get back to the 
horny and half-dressed Margo.  Fights always excited me.

	He yelped and begged as I marched him along, and from the 
back of the summer kitchen came a yell,  "Wot the `ell," cried a loud 
voice, and there was a Royal Marine buttoning his jacket and 
another behind him with his long britches hanging at his knees.  I 
yanked the lieutenant around, hit him in the jaw and he dropped like 
felled tree, out cold.  Then I turned my attention to the Marines, 
dropped the sword and ran toward the kitchen, pulling the fancy 
pistol from my belt with one hand and my big blade with the other.  
I hoped the pistol was loaded and primed, but did not have time to 
check since we were only twenty paces from each other and the 
Marine was priming his musket and tossing aside his ramrod.

	While the man in the kitchen yelped and pulled up his 
breeches, the other knelt and took aim.  I kept coming, dodging left 
and right, since I likely could not have hit the building at that range.  
The Marine fired at fifty feet or so, high, and then stood as I got 
closer, looking properly fierce and hurriedly clamping on his spike 
bayonet.  He moved to meet me, and I knocked aside his clumsy 
thrust with the pistol and drove my big bayonet into his stomach.  I 
pulled the blade out and beat him to the ground with the pistol as 
the other Marine stepped out on the back porch.  I jumped at him, 
almost tripped, stuck the pistol in his middle and pulled the trigger.  
Nothing.  Not even a flash in the pan.

	We wrestled for a bit over his musket, until I kneed him, pulled 
it from his hands, poked it at his throat and pulled the trigger just as 
he threw up his hands and cried, "Quarter, quarter."  His Brown 
Bess scattered his brains and bits of his cranium and jaw all over the 
yard.  I clamped my bayonet on his musket and turned to check on 
the bleeding man crawling toward the unconscious officer.  He was 
still moaning so I finished him with a grating jab into the middle of 
his back.

	Then I kicked the lieutenant back to his senses and moved him 
to the creek at the point of my bloody bayonet.  I put down the gun 
and enjoyed myself beating him until my knuckles ached.  "No, 
please," he cried as I showed him my bayonet and began cutting the 
buttons from his fancy jacket.   I slapped him back and forth as he 
had done me and he sobbed and shook.  "Don't, don't," he cried.  
"I'll cooperate, honestly.  Give you my word."

	I poked my bayonet's tip into one of his nostrils and flicked it 
out.  He screamed and held his face as bright blood ran through his 
fingers.  I hauled him back to the stable, past the bodies of his two 
Marines, trussed him up and left him there to be collected with my 
belongings when I departed.  Then, highly stimulated by the action, 
I hurried back to Margo's room.  I had long admired but never 
tumbled her, and I suspected this was my last chance.  I hoped 
Louisa May would never find out.

	I found the young woman as I had left her when I pulled the 
randy naval officer out of her arms, in attractive dishabille, sitting in 
a chair at her bedside and looking despondent, long hair wildly 
awry, legs spread invitingly, half-filled glass in her fingers.  "Did you 
kill him?" she asked, standing when I entered and pulling her flimsy 
clothes together, looking put upon, blowing a strand of hair from 
her face, lifting her fine chin and thrusting out her large boobs with 
their thumb-sized nipples.  She put her hands behind her rump and 
moved her ample hips from side to side.

	"He wasn't worth it," I declared, unbuckling my belt and 
setting my big, bloodstained blade aside.

	"What had he done to you," she demanded, backing up to the 
wall and looking just a bit frightened, a hand now between her 
jutting breasts, holding her frilly wrapper closed.  I wiped my hands 
on my britches, pulled my long-tailed shirt over my head and 
stepped before her.  She touched the ugly burns on my chest and 
ran her palms over my nipples.  I nodded and took her in my arms 
and kissed her.  She was a large, warm woman, twelve stone I am 
sure, and she reached up behind my neck and gnawed at my mouth, 
groaning in her throat as she ground her mound against me and I 
kneaded her firm buttocks.   She allowed my tongue to explore, my 
hands to grope her lush body, to caress its mounds and explore its 
crevices.  She wriggled wonderfully as her gown fell from her 
shoulders.  She stopped its descent at her belly, holding both hands 
at her groin as her nipples hardened atop her shift, I bent and 
sucked them both, nibbling gently at first one and then the other, 
licking them hard.  Her stays were already shed thanks to her 
previous encounter I suppose.  She moistened her lips and watched 
me like a raptor as I raised my head from her rigid tit, my fingers 
busy exploring her.  She gasped and pushed me away.

	"I'm taking him back with me," I told her as I sat on the bed 
and pulled off my boots.  "He's now eager to talk with us."  I 
yanked off my britches and stood.  She stopped trying to hold her 
dressing gown together, putting a hand to her mouth and staring at 
my groin, and I backed her to wall, slid her fancy shift above her 
hips and stepped between her hefty legs as she put her upper back 
on the wall and arched her pelvis out at me, showing me her teeth 
but closing her eyes.  She gasped and started to scream as my blunt 
glans parted her pink lips, and I gobbled up her mouth as I lifted her 
bodily and drove my turgid lance up into her, both hands grasping 
her large buttocks as I rammed it home with one fierce thrust, 
battering my pubic bone into her clitoris as my rigid horn filled her.  I 
ground it in, pulled it back and rammed her hard. She squealed.  She 
likely weighed a hundred and fifty, I decided, but up came her legs 
and back went her head as my thick pole relentlessly reamed its way 
up her narrow channel, tearing her open, battering and butting.

	"I can't believe you'd have swived that popinjay," I whispered, 
holding her firmly at the butt and smashing her shoulders repeatedly 
against the wall while she heaved against me as I lanced her to the 
hilt again and again with full-length thrusts each ending with a 
flexing jump that forced it inches deeper.  She made gagging noises 
and flung her wild hair from side to side, clawing at my back.  I 
heard myself grunting with effort and felt sweat popping out on my 
face.

	"Didn't want to," she gasped, bucking into me, lifting her legs 
still higher, "but you were busy." Her hair dragged the floor as she 
leaned back against my grip and arched her wonderful body on my 
rampant mast.

	"Yes," I said as I lowered us to our knees, bending my body 
back and getting every inch of my striving manhood into her 
quivering sheath.  She screeched, shuddered, clamped me 
repeatedly within her, flung her arms wide and became seemingly 
boneless after spasming hard and gushing fluids on my tireless but 
overheated shaft.  I gathered her up on my shoulder and walked 
her to the bed where I soon had her jumping and moaning and 
urging me to more effort with her legs up over my shoulders.  She 
just loved those full-length spittings and I gave her a multitude.

	"By damn, Margo, " I said, bent above her with both feet 
braced on the footboard, my hips rogering her steadily in and out 
and the rest of my straining body just along for the ride, "it's a 
terrible shame we did not find each other earlier."

	"No, oh, no, oh no," she moaned, "we'd never have done 
anything else" and she spasmed, squealed and appeared to faint 
again.  It seemed to be her way.  I was thoroughly satisfied but 
thought it impolite to leave the lady like that so I pulled my pike from 
her tight chasm, drawing a ribbon of sticky white juice as I did, 
revived her with a little water and a few kisses and held her while 
she came to her senses, gasping for breath and leaking heavy 
streams that flowed down her thick thighs.

	Voices in the courtyard brought me to the window to find 
both my lieutenant and the major awaiting me.  I leaned out, careful 
not to expose my nakedness or tumescence and told them I'd be 
right down.  "Present for you in the stable," I yelled, pointing.

	I turned and there was Margo, panting like run-out racehorse.  
"Don't leave, don't you leave," she gasped, coming into my arms. 
There was a great deal of her, and I had yet to love all of it.  I sat on 
the window seat and she mounted up and humped me again until 
she collapsed with her head behind my shoulder and her back 
arched, her belly throbbing and oozing while I kneaded her 
buttocks, my fingers deep in her crack.  I walked her to the bed, laid 
her down, sat and pulled on my boots.  "I'll be back," I promised her, 
patting her raised hip.

	"Tomorrow?" she moaned, her hands in the soggy mess 
between her legs.

	"No, but soon."

	"Damn," she said.

	I found Louisa May waiting for me downstairs.  She did not 
look happy. "I heard you shagging up in Margo's room," she said.  "I 
thought you were exhausted.  I'm sure you are now."

	"I owed her," I said, kissing her sweetly.  She bit my tongue 
and smiled.  I went back to the war.  It was safer.


<1st attachment end>


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