index


Message-ID: <47984asstr$1085551802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 057 Sister (MF)
Lines: 664
Date: Wed, 26 May 2004 02:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d




<1st attachment, "Rebel 057.txt" begin>

Rebel 057 (Old Bill) (MF hist)

Eager Sisters

	"I have this peculiar letter," said the good madam, "look at 
this."

	In a woman's hand on very fine paper, it was an offer to join 
the group and to do her share for the cause, and it was signed, 
complete with an artful flourish, by the daughter of one of the oldest 
families on the Hudson, a Dutch dynasty that was active way back 
in Peter Minuet's time.

	"I received this some time ago and set it aside, but I have met 
this girl; she's quite lovely, and I knew her father.  So get on over 
there, find out if this is still her wish, and if it is, escort this young 
patriot back here so I can talk to her.  I'm not sure she understands 
what she will be getting into."

	"Or who will be getting into her," I said with a straight face.

	The madam frowned, shook her head, smacked me with her 
folded fan, made a "tisk" noise with her tongue and then smiled.

	I took my leave of the girl in my bed after one more enervating 
gallop, spent a lonely night wrapped in a blanket, and reached my 
destination early the next day. The rambling home on the riverside 
looked to have grown there and eventually I met the lord of the 
manor, a white-haired gentleman of some years with very palsied 
hands.  I told him I had come at his daughter's bidding, and he 
nodded and waved me away.

	With the staff's help, I found the girl in the orangery.  I was 
nearly stunned and I am sure I gulped.  She was a small, young, soft, 
golden blonde with hair that fell to her waist, and she possessed a 
slim body designed by the devil to entice men to their doom.  She 
smiled at me and I showed her the letter, my cock swollen to at least 
twice its normal size and crawling down my leg.  My skin tingled 
when she touched my hand and smiled at me. She was barely five 
feet tall, likely less than seven stone, but she was surely stimulating.

	"This yours?" I asked, trying not to look down the front of 
her filmy and lowcut gown as she sat aside her pruning shears.

	She nodded, studying me.

	"Are you ready to go?  The madam would like to see you, 
explain things."

	"Of course," she said liltingly and within the hour we were off, 
wished well by all, her father waving absently.  I was still painfully 
tumescent; for, in truth, I had seldom seen so lovely a young woman 
or one so graceful and artless.  Wearing a tight-fitting jacket, short 
boots and voluminous skirt, she mounted sidesaddle with heavily 
laden saddlebags behind her and a smile on her pink ips.

	A mile or so down the road, she called a halt and scrunched 
around on her awkward perch in order to face me and display her 
remarkable charms.  "Promise you won't tell," she said, taking a 
deep breath that nearly unhorsed me.  I would have promised her 
anything after simply enjoying riding beside her until I was ready to 
ejaculate.

	"That's my sister's letter, my older sister.  I'm Gretchen."

	I nodded and licked my lips, imagining her bare and writhing 
under me.  "Is it?" I said, trying to clear my head of those vulgar 
and stimulating images.

	"But," the girl said, unable to hold my eyes, and looking shyly 
at the ground, "she has married since she wrote that, and, well, I 
can take her place I'm sure."

	"Maybe we should see her," I suggested.

	"She lives upstream a ways," the luscious girl said, granting me 
a smile that caused my heart to skip a beat or two.

	"How far?"

	"Oh, half an hour," she said, "I haven't seen her since her 
wedding."  And I since I was very eager to prolong the trip so that 
a night in a crowded inn might advance my goal of rogering her until 
her eyes crossed and she begged for either more or mercy, I 
suggested we visit the sister.

	The sister was even more beautiful, her features more firmly 
molded, but obviously of the same family - fresh-faced, long legged, 
full-hipped, with a cinched-in waist and a pair of impressive peaks 
that jutted out at the world above her long, tight stays, barely 
concealed beneath folds of dark lace and darker sheerness.  She 
introduced herself a Gertrude F---, and since she was lightly veiled 
and all in black, I assumed she was widowed which kind of 
surprised me.  She invited us in, glared at her sister, and we sat at a 
low table and had delicacies brought to us by uniformed servants.  
She was not much taller than her sister, but she was obviously more 
mature and just as enticing, a ravishing beauty I was soon eager to 
ravish.  My mental behavior toward women was much, much worse 
than my actual conduct, which as you have read, was often humble, 
shy and retiring.

	"My husband died late last month," the striking blonde said as 
she poured us real tea, a seldom seen luxury.  Her hands and her 
ears glittered with rings.  "I have not told my family yet."  She 
removed her short veil and shook out her golden hair.

	I nodded watching the interplay between the women and was 
reminded of cats disputing the dry corner of a barn.  I handed 
Gertrude the folded note after we had chatted for a while.

	"And this one was going to take my place, this child?" she 
asked, arching a lovely eyebrow at her pouting sister and waving 
the short letter.

	"She volunteered," I said. "Eagerly."

	"She has been boy crazy since she was eleven, completely 
insane, she tries to corner them when she can, won't leave them 
alone, and of course they enjoy it, most of them," the young woman 
said.  Her beautiful sister did not deny the accusation, but simply 
lifted her chin and looked away. "Do you know how old she is?"

	I shook my head having assumed the luscious little girl was 
eighteen or so, perhaps twenty.

	"Fourteen," said Gertrude, "and barely that."

	The nubile girl nodded and smiled.  "But I am still willing to 
serve," she said.

	"May I ask you a question, Miss Gretchen, a very personal 
one?"  I tried to guess the answer since until that moment I had 
been planning to hump her first chance I got.

	She nodded, hands demurely in her lap, a picture of innocent 
desire.

	"You are a maiden then, aren't you?" I asked her, incredulous.  
"A virgin?"

	"Of course," she said, quickly angry, eyes flashing, young little 
boobs jiggling above her tight-laced stays.  She made her mouth a 
thin line and jutted out her jaw.

	"Then, " I said, "regretfully, Madam Von R-- would have no 
use for you, and I will have to return you to your father."

	"Please," Gretchen said, looking almost her age, "you can fix 
that, can't you, take my useless cherry I mean?  I want to serve the 
cause, the revolution.  I'll give it to you gladly." A tear appeared at 
the corner of one shiny eye.

	And while I would have been quite willing to have done so just 
minutes before, I put on my most offended appearance and told her 
I would do no such thing. I crossed my legs the other way.

	She sister stifled a laugh.  "But I can doff my widow's weeds 
for my country, mayn't I?" she said.

	"I suppose," I said, and then my curiosity erupted.  "How is it 
you are a widow when you were so recently married?  If you don't 
mind my asking.  An accident?"

	"Well," she said, looking at her sister.  "She's old enough to 
know.  My husband killed himself, in despair I suppose. My fault, at 
least in part, I'm sure. Jumped in the river, right out there, off that 
bluff.  I watched him do it.  He waved and blew a kiss, knowing I 
was watching."

	Gretchen put her hand to her mouth.  "Jeffrey?" she cried.

	"Yes, Jeffrey, my pretty Jeffrey, I am sorry to say, was a, how 
can I put this nicely," she looked at me and then at her shocked 
sister, "he was a, well, he was less than a man, I fear, a good bit less.  
He could not perform his duty as a husband.  He must have known 
it, but never told me.  I'm almost sure some knew."

	"But, but," her sister said, "we saw, you know, the sheets, the 
next morning."

	Gertrude smiled.  "Yes.  Weren't they impressive, flapping at 
the windows, and that blood was surely mine, and I was sore for a 
week, but now I have no idea who took my maidenhead.  I suspect 
it was his groom, who still looks at me oddly now and again, or one 
of his friends, perhaps that thin one you danced with, that simp with 
the red wig and bulging codpiece.  He was about Jeffrey's size. I'm 
sure he had a pair of stockings in his breeches."

	Her sister looked shocked, and I must say I was embarrassed.

	"For a fortnight, day after day, night after night, time after 
time, I lost count of them, at least a score of times, my dear, foolish 
husband attempted to serve me properly," she said, her fist at her 
mouth, her eyes closed. She produced a tiny handkerchief.  "I did 
my very best to help him.  We must have tried a hundred positions 
and numerous potions."  She bit her knuckle and recovered.  "He 
failed, failed most miserably.  He wept in my arms, filled with 
melancholy.  He had neither the will nor the wherewithal.  He gave 
up.  So did I.  I resigned myself to spinsterhood; he to black bile."

	"I don't understand," said her beautiful little sister, mystified.

	Gertrude made a fist and held up her little finger.  "It was 
about that size, my dear," she said.  "But not that stiff."  She folded 
her finger into her hand. "I fear that I was unkind to him.  And he 
killed himself leaving me a very short note saying he was sorry."

	"So you are rich," her sister said, wiping away a nonexistent 
tear.

	"Very," said Gertrude, taking a deep breath and smiling at me.  
"Is father any better?"

	Gretchen shook her head, tumbling golden curls.

	"You may stay with me, if you behave yourself, and don't 
climb all over my guests," she said with a tiny smile, and then to me.  
"Our father has been incompetent for some time.  He really does not 
know who we are any more."

	"Pity," I said, admiring her courage as well as her body.

	By then the sun was setting.  We had a light meal, and I was 
shown to a small room at the side of the house while the sisters went 
off for some more talk and commiseration I suppose, their arms 
linked, heads together.

	I was soundly asleep when Gertrude came to my bed and 
shook my shoulder.  I sat up and she sat down, her hand on my 
bare thigh.  I was quickly tumescent, and she fondled my swelling 
root and smiled down at me, stroking steadily and then feeling my 
hard stones, weighing them, fondling.  She was wearing a long, pale, 
translucent night dress and had her hair tied back loosely, a golden 
cascade.  Her eyes were alight.

	"She's finally asleep," the young widow said with a relieved 
sigh, untying her neck ribbon and shrugging her fluffy dress from 
her slim shoulders.  It hung briefly at her dark, prominent nipples 
and then plunged to her lap and elbows.  She was very white, pale 
as marble.  In the moonlight her protruding nipples were blue and 
her curly muff flickered, obviously wet.

	"Will you now care for her?" I asked, pulling her closer and 
bending to suck her upright tits, to rub my tongue across them and 
bite gently.  They hardened quickly, leaping out erect and trembling 
as my rough hands roamed her smooth skin.  Briefly, I wondered 
what my stubbly beard would do to her tender parts.

	"Yes, I must," she said, her hand behind my head, holding me 
to her warm and exciting chest.  "So I cannot join the madam's choir 
I fear, not for a while, not until I am sure Gretchen will behave.  I'll 
find a school for her, a convent perhaps, a very strict one with many 
cold baths."  She let go of me, stood, shook herself free of her gown 
and rolled in beside me as I held up the corner of my quilt, my ram 
now rearing proudly, ready for action, dripping in fact, blood hot, 
pike long, stone hard.

	"Please be gentle," she said.  "Like that silly girl, I was a virgin 
when I wrote that note.  I have since learned what the old lady's 
nieces are actually doing, and I would be most happy to join them."  
She kissed me softly and I caressed her and kissed her back 
somewhat more insistently, my hand sliding down to cup her soft 
mound and finger her warm sex.  "Whoever deflowered me, I must 
say I rather enjoyed it." I found her tiny prick and tweaked it 
gently.

	When I was sure she was ready, which was almost at once, I 
spread her legs with my knees, lifted her thighs a bit and mounted 
her, my elbows by her ears, my mouth gnawing at hers as my prod 
butted her open.  She sucked in her breath as my fat, hot, bone-
hard ramrod sank into her tight, fluttering, nearly virginal chasm, 
prying open her quivering lips and squeezing into a cloying and 
muscular cave, battering and tearing, exploring and entering.  I held 
all the weight I could from her and concentrated on controlling my 
lust, which was not easy, and I soon rammed hard at her, spreading 
her tight folds, penetrating insistently.  I pressed my toes against the 
footboard and sank into her very slowly but steadily as she 
wriggled and heaved up her hips, snorting through her mouth and 
nose as I drove deeper and deeper, inch-by-inch.  She rippled with 
pleasure.

	"Uh," she gasped, eyes closed.  "Ah," she sighed, mouth wide 
open.  "Oh," she cried, biting her lower lip.  "Um, um, um, um, um," 
she moaned as our bodies got into a fine and rocking rhythm of 
thrust and recoil, of give and take, of in and out and in, rubbing 
pubic bones together. I felt her thighs slide down to my waist and 
her legs attempt to link behind my back and then her feet were 
pressing on my buttocks, hammering away and driving me deeper 
into her.  I arched up and our pace accelerated, lifting her with each 
grunting blow that wrought a noisy protest from the bed.  For a 
small woman, she was very strong and quite determined to enjoy 
herself.  "Yee," she squealed when she shuddered and spasmed, but 
I ignored her initial climax, held her heaving hips, reared up and 
speared her relentlessly until I felt my ballocks tingle and my jabbing 
spear swell and go fully rigid, pulsing wildly.  I clamped my jaw and 
tried to smile.  I pumped out my relief in jolts of energy and jism as 
she came again, squealing and gasping, and we managed to enjoy a 
nearly mutual orgasm that left her tight quim oozing juices and my 
satisfied body lying inert beside her, my spent member atop my 
thigh, my paw on her heaving belly.

	Beside me she purred with contentment.  "That's what I 
wanted," she sighed out, her fingers raking through my body hair, 
"that's exactly what I wanted."  She moved to lie across me, her 
mouth at my chest, our legs intertwined.

	"By damn, Gertrude," I managed to gulp out, as I petted her 
back and then kneaded her hard buttocks, "You had better try out 
any man you intend to wed or you'll fill that river with broken 
bodies."

	She giggled.  "Don't joke about such sadness," she said.  "Can 
you do it again?"  She put her hand on my wasted pole, my 
exhausted manhood.  It felt utterly nerveless, naught but a fat blood 
sausage despite her tickling.

	"Perhaps," I said, "with a bit of encouragement, a kiss, a lick, 
something to enliven the poor thing, bring it back to life."

	She crawled down my hairy body, poised over me with my 
swelling root in both hands, said," I've never done this," and then 
licked and sucked me until I was hard as stone, drawing my member 
well into her warm mouth, to the base of her tongue.  Then she 
mounted me and rode me mercilessly for several miles, over many 
fences and hedges, climaxing time and time again as she rocked 
forward steadily and with each pinnacle of her passion, clamping 
hard on my striving mast, rotating her hips and twisting from side to 
side while she gasped out her pleasure and slapped my haunch, 
demanding more effort.  She arched up until I was able to mouth her 
breasts with my shaft sliding roughly and steadily in and out of her.  
She continued to pleasure herself with her knees in my ribs until I 
finally came again, rather weakly but with enough force to make her 
grit her teeth as she bounced on my groin, hair flying in all 
directions, breasts bouncing like soft rubber balls.  Then she 
collapsed on me with a sigh, pushed herself up with both hands on 
my chest, crawled across me, dripping fluids, and got to her feet, 
moaning all the while.

	"I'm going to my bed," she told me as she jiggled her 
nightgown over her head.  "I won't get any sleep here."

	"Besides,' I said, my hand on her belly mound and then on her 
firm butt, "I snore."

	"Perhaps in the morning," she said, "early."  Viscous streams 
flowed down the inside of her legs, gleaming in the silvery light.

	"Yes," I said, stroking her gently.  "Good idea."

	She bent, held back her hair and kissed my cock.

	I suspect I was asleep before she closed the door.

	A rooster crowed and someone jostled my shoulder and said, 
"Make room."  I felt a warm body slide in behind me and a soft 
hand on my shoulder, a softer belly on my buttocks.  I was 
immensely hard, lying on my side with my massive prick enjoying 
itself on the sheets, easing its head back and forth, feeling a yard 
long and fencepost thick against my wrist.

	"My turn," the soft voice said, and I quickly rolled over.  It 
was the youngster, bare as the day she was born, and smiling at me 
in the morning gloom.  Her hands went immediately to my 
overheated spear.  "Oh," she said, barely touching it with her 
fingertips, "it's very hot, and," she said quietly as she stroked down 
its veined length, seemingly talking to herself, "it's awfully large and 
terribly hard." She got both hands on the thing.

	I lay quietly, enjoying her ministrations.  "I hardly think it will 
fit inside you," I said to her soft mouth.  My lips touched hers briefly 
as she bent over me, her long hair hanging freely.

	"I don't think so either," she said, cupping its massive head.  It 
more than filled her palm.

	"Then you should leave it alone."

	"I've felt some others," she said.  "But none like this thing.  
The head is so big, big as a billard ball."

	"Have you, for shame," I said, trying not to laugh.

	"Um," she said, tickling the underside, just beneath the head 
ridge, a very knowledgeable innocent indeed.  My root jumped.

	"Please," I said at the edge of my restraint, kissing her very 
sweetly, our tongue tips touching, afraid I would come in her hands.

	"I stood out there," she said, stroking again, down and down, 
hand after hand, all the way to my ballocks, and she gestured with 
her head, "and listened, for more than an hour, to you two in here 
grunting and sobbing and carrying on.  I heard the ropes twang and 
pop, the bed frame creak and thump. I thought you'd never stop, 
and when you finally did, I ran back to bed and played with 
myself."

	The door opened and her sister entered, very quietly.  She put 
her hand to her mouth and her eyes got much bigger.  "You 
haven't," she said, looking hard at me.

	I shook my head.

	"Gretchen," she demanded in the voice of a stern teacher, 
"stop this, leave the poor man alone."

	 "He's mean," the girl said, giving my swollen ram a final 
tweak.

	"Go back to your bed," Gertrude said, holding out the 
younger girl's nightgown as she got to her feet.

	"No," the girl said.  "I'm going to stay and watch."

	Her sister looked her up and down as if seeing her for the first 
time, taking in her bare and more-than-nubile body.  She nodded, 
unable to ignore the lushness of the youngster before her, holding 
her hand and kissing her cheek.  "All right," she said, "but not a 
sound.  You might as well learn what we poor women must suffer."  
She smiled down at me, and I held up the quilt for her to crawl in 
beside me, eager to be solaced by her, to be buried in her right up to 
the hairy hilt, my morning erection, now over stimulated and out of 
patience was jumping like a wild thing, painfully rigid, stretching my 
skin, its head immense, swollen and sensitive, turning purple.  Then I 
turned off my mind, stripped her bare, and enjoyed her senselessly, 
arching up on fully extended arms and grunting with effort as we 
bent into each other.  When we paused, sated but hoping for more, 
we found the younger girl slumping in the chair, sound asleep.

	"Take her to her bed, please," Gertrude asked.  I rolled out, 
lifted the luscious young woman and followed my ardent lover 
down the long hall to deposit my burden.  We covered her, and 
then Gertrude took my hand and led me to her high bed where we 
meshed our loins once more and were able to greet the new day 
heaving at each other, grappled together by both arms and legs, and 
hoping we could roger forever.

	"I don't envy you," I told the woman when I could talk.  
"Keeping the young men out of that one's bed it going to take some 
effort."

	"I'll teach her both manners and morals," Gertrude said and 
then she sucked my tongue, kneaded my stones and sulked because 
I could do no more.

	I must admit that I let myself be persuaded to spend one more 
night at than mourning home, and to take care of the needy widow 
to the best of my meager abilities.  However, our morning revels 
were interrupted by the war, the endless war, and just when I was 
about to have her from behind with a massive cudgel that was as 
hard as oak in my trembling hand, one way we had yet to try, there 
was a tap at her bedroom door.

	"Ma'm," said a soft voice, "they's some mens downstairs 
wantin' t'see you, sojers, mistress."

	A small contingent of hussars had arrived unannounced and, 
obviously, unexpected.  They had come, said their officious leader, a 
middle-aged captain in a white wig, for horses and fodder.  I went 
down the back way, stayed in the shadows and watched his face as 
he made his demands to Gertrude who was dressed only in her 
nightgown and fluffy robe, her feet bare and hair unkempt, a lacy 
morsel for any man.  My musket and ammunition were out in the 
barn along with my horse.  I hoped they would leave quietly.  I 
wore only my shirt and thick belt, held my cock in one hand since it 
refused to soften and my big bayonet in the other since it was the 
only thing available.

	"Take what you must," she said, pushing aside her long mane.  
"I have no choice."

	Then her sister appeared on the staircase, wearing only her 
nightclothes, her golden hair tumbling about her shoulders, long legs 
flashing.

	"What's going on, Trudy?" she asked, looking sleepy eyed, 
the neck of her thin gown flapping open, drawing men's eyes to her 
pale body.

	The officer glanced from one young woman to the other and 
then turned and called to someone outside.  A subaltern appeared, 
clacked his heels together and let his eyes roam over Gertrude.  He 
smiled and it was not a pleasant smile.

	"See this woman," the captain said, grinning at the young man 
so Gertrude could not see him, "she has insulted me, has insulted 
our king.  Take her and teach her some manners while I do the same 
for the whelp on the stairs."  With that, he spun on his heel and 
yelled at Gretchen.  "Come here at once, you vulgar, little, colonial 
bitch!"

	While the younger girl stood rooted and amazed, the tall 
ensign grabbed Gertrude by the hair and pulled her into the parlor 
where I was hiding.  Panting, he pushed her to a table, tore at her 
clothes and slapped her face back and forth a time or two, before I 
spun him around, clamped my hand over his mouth and drove my 
big knife all the way through his body, a half-foot of bloody steel 
emerging from his back.  I let him fall as the younger girl screamed.

	I took the steps three at a time, kicked open the first door I 
came to and found the officer holding Gretchen by the arm while he 
attempted to remove his belts.  I kicked his feet from under him and 
then booted him in the ear and stomped on his throat, not wanting 
to drench the girl's bedroom in blood.  She retreated to a corner 
making herself as small as she could, holding her torn gown to her 
ripe body, an arm across her chest, as the man's tongue protruded 
and he quivered and died making noises like a turkey.

	"Get some clothes on," I said.  "Be quick."  I looked out the 
front window and found a half dozen mounted men lounging about, 
waiting for their officers to have their fun, perhaps waiting for their 
turn.

	I went back down the stairs, found Gertrude and asked if she 
owned a gun or two.  Still in her torn nightclothes, she led me to a 
tall case filled with fowling pieces, long rifles and decorated shotguns 
as well as plenty of powder and shot.  It could not have been better.  
I loaded three double-barreled weapons with very heavy buckshot, 
double charged them in fact, told Gertrude to get dressed and keep 
her sister upstairs and if something happened to me to try to sneak 
down the back way and out to the barn.  It was a silly hope but 
something is better than nothing.  She rose on her toes and kissed 
me.

	I went out the back door, circled the house, rested two cocked 
pieces against the chimney and then yelled, "Over here, men!  Over 
here.  Be quick," in the fruitiest voice I could muster.  I knelt, aimed 
low and when I could see five or six Redcoats running toward me, 
muskets at port arms, I fired, dropped one weapon, grabbed 
another and fired again, aiming even lower and hearing the echoes 
of the first two explosions as I did.  I stood, took the third shotgun 
and walked into the powder smoke and screaming.  Five were 
down, shredded and writhing, but one was on his knees, sprayed 
with his comrades' blood, trying to bring his musket up to his 
shoulder.  I kicked it from his hands and bashed in his skull with the 
gun's butt.

	From above came a cry, "My God."  I looked up to see the 
two blondes at the bedroom window, looking down on the carnage.

	"Are they dead?" one of the girls asked.

	"Soon will be," I said, setting aside the shotgun and drawing 
my big knife.

	"You wouldn't," the younger girl cried.

	"They're suffering," I said, lifting one boy's chin and cutting 
his throat with a slash.

	"No," she cried from above and the window slammed closed. 
When I was finished, bloody to the elbows, I checked the bodies for 
valuables, found little worth taking and went back into the house. 

	The tall ensign, who somehow was still alive, had a good purse 
and a fancy, gold ring which I took.  Then I dragged him outside by 
his feet and put him out of his misery.  The captain's purse was even 
heavier and he also had a pocket watch of some merit.  I tipped his 
body out the upstairs window and enjoyed hearing it plunk into the 
dirt below.

	The house servants and I got the bodies loaded into a farm 
wagon, hauled them down to the river and tossed them in after 
taking their boots.  We watched them float away, rinsed out the 
wagon and went back to the big house on the hill.  I gave each man 
who helped me a heavy coin and urged them all to forget what they 
had done.

	The girls were not so easy.  Gretchen sulked and fumed while 
her older sister exuded her shock and dismay.

	"Surely," Gertrude said.  "You did not have to kill the 
wounded men."

	"I think I did.  What would you have done with them?"

	"I don't know," she said.  "Nursed them, comforted them, 
bound up their wounds, let them die easy."

	"They were certainly going to die, all but that one that 
survived the blasts of canister I threw at them.  I had to put him 
down before he shot at me."

	Gretchen nodded.  "I saw you hit him.  You're awfully cruel."

	"I'm a soldier.  They pay me to kill Redcoats."

	"Eight men, gone just like that," Gertrude said.

	"Horses for Washington; that's how I see it," I told them.  "I 
must go."

	"Can't we finish what we began before they interrupted?" 
asked Gertrude quietly.

	"If you wish," I said with a smile, "If you will excuse us, miss," 
I said to the younger girl.

	"Oh no," she said.  "I get to watch.  I won't fall asleep this 
time."

	So the three of us trooped up to Gertrude's big bedroom.  She 
stood at the foot of her bed, where we had been an hour before, 
and I flipped up her flimsy skirts and patted her wide, rounded 
rump.

	"What are you going to do?" Gretchen asked, sitting with her 
elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.

	I set aside my belt and bayonet and let my massive ram rise 
into the morning air, stirred by the killing as well as the pair of 
luscious and willing women to incredible hardness and well above 
the horizontal.  I could barely get my big hand about it at its hairy 
base.  I stepped between Gertrude's legs, seated the swollen head 
of my outstretched pike in her dripping quim, held her hips firmly 
and slowly shoved the thick thing into her, inch by rigid inch.  It 
took some time as well as some effort.  Gertrude gasped and shook 
while Gretchen sat goggle-eyed, watching my long root gradually 
disappear into her sister's shaking body.  When it was well inserted, 
churning and leaping in its glorious prison if not fully to the hilt, I 
held the young woman's hips and served her long and well, 
ramming charge after charge into her fiery muzzle.  She must have 
noisily come a half-dozen times before I finally gave her my juicy 
cannonade, gritting my teeth and arching my back as I hammered 
and gushed into her marvelous body, smashing myself against her 
firm buttocks.

	After awhile I pulled out my dripping mast, still long and firm, 
its head nearly carmine, and Gertrude sank to her knees, mewling.  I 
knelt, rolled her over, spread her legs, hoisted up her hips and slid 
back into her, ignoring her sister's pleas of, "No, no, no more.  You'll 
kill her."

	I heard the girl run from the room, her bare feet slapping the 
floor, as I brought her steaming sister back to life on my raging 
spear.  When we were done, both sure we could do no more, 
exhausted and famished, she looked up at me and said, "Breakfast?"

	"I think I earned it," I said, slowly sliding out of her limp body.

	"Indeed sir, you did, and those dead Englishmen got exactly 
what they deserved.  I'm sorry I fussed at you."

	I bent and kissed her gently, helped her to her feet.  We 
dressed, ate, and I kissed them both like a brother and headed back 
to the war with a string of good horses and their equipment as well 
as a half dozen Brown Besses and two ornate swords.

	It had been a very good expedition. My cock was sore as hell.



<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+