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From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel part 16
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Date: Thu, 15 Apr 2004 15:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 16 .txt" begin>


Rebel 16  Trudy, the general's redhead


	As a spy, I guess inept would be the best word for me.  My 
lieutenant sent me into the city with a wagonload of corn and a few 
shillings, to see what I could find out about British plans.  I did not 
have any trouble getting a good price for the corn or the wagon and 
mule, but I surely did have trouble finding out what Howe was up 
to.  In fact, what I did find out made me think that Lord Willie really 
did not care much for the fight or that he had no plans.  When I 
reported that later, I was laughed at by some of the experts but it 
turned out that I was right.

	After a week, the only thing I had to say from my venture into 
the city was that they had some very good beer, some draggle-
tailed whores and lots of rats and lice.  I hired on to several jobs as a 
casual laborer for a day at a time, hoping to gain some workingmen's 
gossip, but only found more beer and more worn-out trollops.

	I was working for a drayman when I did have one good 
opportunity for successful spying, but I made a bit of a shambles of 
that.  As usual, I thought with my randy member instead of my 
seldom-used brain, but in the end I guess I did the right thing.  
Sometimes your nuts are right.

	We were unloading a sight of heavy furniture into one of 
those large, brick houses when, through a half-open door, I saw this 
incredible woman getting out of her high-backed bathtub and damn 
near ruptured my employer.  "Did you see that?" I asked him, 
regaining my balance and my grip.

	"Gawd damn, you jackass.  Don' ever do that."

	"Did you see that woman, that redhead?"

	"No.  Must be the bloody general's bleedin' wife."

	"Wife?  It was a girl, a young one, boobs like melons, broad-
assed and long-legged.  Frigging beautiful."

	"She's that, a dasher I've heard."

	"He's an antique, bald and fat, must be sixty or seventy."

	"So?  Lift your damn end and twist this way."

	We got the heavy chest into the room where it was to stand as 
a linen press, collected our pay and left, but I could not get the 
image of the lush, bending woman with the white towel at her chin 
out of my brain. After a quick beer or two, I took my shillings, 
thanked the drayman for the work, and went back to the house 
behind the iron fence.

	Two Redcoats stood at the gate, looking very neat and clean 
and bored.  They both smelled of sweat and ale despite their chalk 
and brushing.

	"Who lives here?" I asked one.

	"G't'ell," he said.  "Move on, y'bloody colonial."

	"A general is it?" I asked him.

	"Yah," he said, "A German, an' if you don' move I'm goin' to 
kick y'fuckin' ass."

	Since I had a few inches and a stone or two on the foul-
mouthed man with the musket, I did not take him too seriously.

	"I'm looking for work," I said.

	"Go `round back then," said the other guard without looking 
at me.

	"Thanks," I said and walked down the fenceline, past some 
hedges and to the summer kitchen.  A well-dressed black man was 
working on some boots when I arrived, and a large black woman 
was cleaning carrots and sitting beside him.

	"Hiring?" I asked the man.

	"What can you do?" he said in a smooth voice with an accent 
that I could not place then but now know was Carolina-coastline.

	"Most anything that takes some muscle and not much brains," I 
said with a smile.

	"Didn't I see you here earlier?"

	"Me?" I said, trying to look innocent and confused.

	"Awright, lady done fired the las' one atter she done wore `im 
out.  Three shillings a week and find."

	"Good, good," I said, and he put me to work cleaning up the 
carriage house.  The phrase 'wore him out' ran through my mind.

	Two days later, I got to see the redhead again and by then I 
had learned several things that might have been of interest to Lt. 
Foster so I felt I was doing my job and was entitled to a bit of 
recreation.  It is truly amazing what lust will drive one to doing and 
thinking or making excuses for deciding.  She summoned me to 
her large, curtained, upstairs room and had me shift several pieces of 
dark furniture including her huge bed with its draped canopy and 
then bring a heavy trunk up from a storage room in the cellar.  
When I set it down, carefully, wiped sweat from my face and 
straightened my aching back, she stood from the chair by the 
window where she had directed all these operations.  She had sat 
there, legs crossed, her back to the light, so I could only see her halo 
of coppery curls and not her face.  Now I saw she was as pretty as I 
thought but not as young as I had supposed.  Even better, I decided 
and I was right.

	She was a tall, big-boned woman, at least ten stone, and her 
hair color was not like any I had ever seen so I assumed it was 
dyed.  Henna I think the color was called.  She might not have been 
beautiful by the standards of the time, but she was full-bodied, 
strong and handsome, and she somehow exuded a passion, like the 
confidence some men have, like a mare or bitch in heat, it might even 
have been an odor.  She surely aroused me, painfully in fact.  Her 
eyebrows were dark and arched and her eyes were the color of 
cold granite.  She had a fine, straight nose and a firm chin and 
between them rested a large, lovely, and inviting mouth, like a 
crushed rose.  She wore dangling earbobs of gold and several 
heavy, gold bracelets. She also had a body that would make a saint 
weep, nothing but meaty curves that rolled when in motion and a 
stately posture that thrust out her hard-nippled chest and would 
have made a Greek or Roman statue proud.  She was obviously 
accustomed to being in command, especially of men, and of being 
admired.  She was wearing a dark green gown, silk I suppose, 
flapping open at her impressive forward works, tied just below her 
large ponts and clinging to her rounded hips, firm buttocks and long 
legs as she moved within it.  She was barefoot and showed a good 
bit of calf when she walked.  She had big feet.

	She stood squarely before me, wordlessly, and put both her 
hands up on my shoulders, cocking her head to the side and letting 
me enjoy the view of the deeply shadowed cleft in her upright 
bosom and the smell of her animal scent, not perfume, of her 
lustrous body while she licked her lips, contemplating I knew not 
what.  I untied her long, slick belt and put my big paws on her silken 
hips, lightly, sliding them down to her buttocks while she looked at 
me as her gown peeled slowly open.  We smiled at each other and 
sniffed, more animal behavior.  I tried to control my breathing while 
I enjoyed watching hers and felt myself fiercely aroused by the rise 
and fall of her chest, by the growing size of her dark nipples which 
swelled and hardened as I kneaded her round bottom.

	"Yes," she said deep in her tall throat, after licking her lips 
again and taking a quick breath that pushed aside her gown, "I think 
you'll do, and you're certainly big enough.  Come over here."  She 
took me by the hand, turned with a swing of her fiery hair and a 
swish of her clinging gown and sat on the edge of her high bed, the 
soft garment suddenly open to reveal a delicate garden of fleshy 
delights beneath a thick muff of dark curls.  Her toes were well off 
the floor, heels braced on the side of the bed.  She spread her knees 
and smiled up at me as her pink-lipped portal opened, trembling and 
wet, juicy and fragrant.  "Now," she said quietly after she removed 
my heavy belt while I enjoyed the view with my finger tips on her 
legs and thumbs moving up the inside of her thighs, "inspection, if 
you please."   She unbuttoned my tight-stretched foreflap and 
dragged out my swelling weapon while I lifted and caressed her 
heavy breasts and then peeled her cool, slick gown from her wide, 
freckled shoulders so it hung at her elbows. She did not seem to 
notice.

	"My," she said softly, almost a purr, looking up briefly, "quite 
impressive.  But does it rear, can it canter, is it properly trained, will 
it stay the course?  Perhaps it's just for show, a fine display I'll 
admit."  She flicked it with a finger nail, stroked it and smiled up at 
me as I raked back her hair, fingered her ears, caressed her bare 
shoulders, and bent to kiss her neck and then take her open, waiting 
mouth with mine, tonguing her deeply.  Her skin was warm and 
pebbly with gooseflesh.  She tasted fine, sweet and fruity, and her 
tongue was long and hard.  She gnawed at my lower lip.  One 
strong hand came to my hip and pulled me forward between her 
wide-spread legs while she held my throbbing cock firmly with her 
other hand, slowly stroking up and down my shaft, moving the 
foreskin.  She dripped and trembled with anticipation, her tongue at 
her lower lip as we joined under her direction. Her mouth slowly 
came open and she closed her eyes as my thick rod disappeared 
below her fire-colored bush.  Her hand slipped down my 
overheated stalk to grasp my swollen ballocks.  She squeezed; I 
pushed forward, up and in.  She was tight and throbbing, clenching 
and releasing.

	 I held my breath and she grunted with satisfaction and 
showed her teeth as my britches dropped to my trembling knees 
and my thick spear made deeper penetration, battering through her 
defenses into her citadel.  Her hands slid around my back, and my 
heart thumped noisily in my chest as we began to move gently 
together, hips flexing toward each other.  She inched forward.  I 
lifted my chin, shoved hard and gritted my teeth.  She exhaled as if 
she also had been holding her breath, and her arms and legs held me 
tight, fingernails digging into my butt as I drove steadily higher.  
Suddenly, she leaned back and looked up wide-eyed as I struck 
bone. We lurched together, coupling again and again as she gasped 
over and over.  We made a solid, smacking sound when we joined 
and a sucking noise as we pulled apart.  I bent and mashed our 
mouths together, but she pulled her head away and arched her 
neck, shaking loose her hair, panting rapidly, her whole body 
undulating, heaving her hips at me harder and harder as our pubic 
bones ground into each other.

	"Very fine," she said between clenched teeth after some 
minutes of furious plowing had passed, my back had begun to ache 
and a few beads of sweat had dotted her forehead.  We had 
achieved a slow-march pace that most women found more than 
satisfactory, even exhausting, perhaps fifty or sixty strokes a minute.  
"Now, a bit faster if you please," she commanded, "more effort, 
sirrah, and deeper, much deeper!"  She kicked me as you would 
spur a horse.  "Deeper, damn you!  Harder!  Harder!"  They could 
have heard her across the street.  She grabbed the back of my 
thighs, kicked me again with her heels and urged me on, her 
forehead battering at my sternum from time to time as she heaved in 
my relentless grip and the pace quickly doubled and redoubled.  
Blood rushed in my ears, and I gritted my teeth and felt my throat 
and belly strain with effort. My legs began to cramp.  I grabbed her 
hair in both hands, bent her head back and kissed her fiercely until 
she shook loose again, gasping and heaving from side to side, 
grinding herself into me as I tried to tear her in two and drive my 
tongue down her throat.  

	She spasmed and shook, fell back on her bed, arms spread 
wide, hands knotted into fists, large nipples erect on her massive 
jugs, knees mashing the backs of my thighs.  I stood rooted, holding 
her buttocks up, shaking with lust, feet braced, and gripping her 
wide hips as she thrashed about in her green silk, back bent to its 
fullest extent, eyes closed, teeth on her lower lip and half-rolling left 
and right with her ankles locked behind me, her wonderfully red 
hair flailing about her sweating face.  I smiled down as she fought to 
regain control only to jump and shudder again with pleasure when I 
speared her, her whole body shaking as I slowed the pace and 
lengthened the strokes, watching my thick-veined shaft slide in and 
out of her soaked bush and then holding it fully extended in her 
until it jumped and she squealed.

  	"Yeeee," she cried, and she writhed like a serpent while I 
grasped her thighs, sliding almost all the way out before driving into 
her again. "Yes, yes," she sighed, jumping to and fro and hammering 
at the back of my legs with her feet.  She seemed to achieve one 
climax after another unless it was all one, long, shuddering peak of 
her body's overheated fulfillment.

	"Will I do?" I managed to ask between gasps.  She smiled in 
reply and somehow mouthed "more" without saying the word.  Her 
tongue lolled in her mouth and her jaw trembled.  Her belly shook 
and her muscles contracted over and over as I slowed even more, 
holding myself off as best I could, resisting the urge to come quickly.  
My appetite for her seemed endless, bottomless, ceaseless, and she, 
obviously, still was not fully satisfied.

	 I heard myself making noises of effort, as though I was 
hauling a full hod of bricks up a long, steep ladder, step by difficult 
step.  "Uh, uh, uh." I groaned.  She responded with as series of 
throaty moans, as if she was trying to pull a stopper out of a barrel, 
"Ugh, ugh, ugh." We stayed in desperate and endless cadence. I was 
shoveling coal into an unsatisfiable furnace.  She was pumping a huge 
bellows with all her strength.

	Her sweat-damp hair almost covered her face, and she 
attempted to blow it aside. Her head and shoulders bounced and 
rolled on the mattress. The veins in her neck bulged and a muscle at 
the base of her jaw twitched.  Her thighs clamped and relaxed again 
and again.  Her belly quivered and roiled.  She kicked me, heaved 
up and down and hammered the bed with her fists, shaking her 
head from side to side and gasping out broken syllables that might 
have been words, parceling them out at every thrust.  "Fa, ah, ah, 
an, fan, uh, uh, tas, ah, la, tast, um, um, tastic, ah, tic, ah," she 
sighed.  "Fantastic, fantastic."

	Then suddenly, like a cold wind, she seemed to shuck off the 
passion of the moment, grabbed my arms and pulled herself up, put 
both hands behind my head.  She kissed me hard, our teeth clacking, 
her tongue deep in my mouth, knees prodding under my ribs.  
"Stop," she said, breathlessly, putting her hands on my chest and 
wriggling away, lowering her long legs, her belly calming.  "Now 
stop, you must obey or this will be the last time."

	I exhaled and stepped back from her, horny and dripping.  
"Are you going to leave me like this?" I asked, trying to keep the 
anger from my voice, my hand at the side of her sweaty face, my 
thumb fish-hooked between her cracked lips, a finger at the very 
edge of her eye.  My legs shook, calves cramped, stones ached.

	She stood, pulling her silky gown closed and tying her long 
belt, tossing her loose curls back, ignoring my throbbing member.  
"Yes,  you'll do, barely, but you will do," she said, shaking her head 
free of my grip and licking her lips, sucking in a breath with a 
shudder.  "But I don't have all day to play with you.  Aren't you 
satisfied?" she asked, suddenly reminding me of another big woman 
whose goods and chattels I had help take up the Hudson before 
Howe's army arrived.

	"No," I said, holding her head and kissing her mouth.  "You 
can see I'm not. But I will be, I will be."  I yanked up my britches and 
found my belt, content in my mind.

	She laughed.  "We'll see," she said, pulling her gown closed and 
resuming her chair. "You can go." She crossed her long legs.  I 
bowed and left, angry and eager to try again.

	Spying became exhausting work, especially in the late 
afternoons when the general's tireless wife wanted her daily gallop 
as the sun sank and painted her room in reds and oranges that 
favored her outrageous hair.  She made me withdraw when I was 
about to climax, but even then found ways to satisfy me with her 
hands and later with her lips.  At the party that weekend, a "rout" 
they called it, I spent most of my time hauling crates of wine bottles 
out of the cellar and taking the empties back down.  By halfway 
through the evening, most of the bedrooms were filled with coupling 
pairs in various states of undress and drunkenness including two 
men who were performing unspeakable acts on each other.  I had 
discovered that one young subaltern was on Howe's staff and might 
be worth spiriting off to have a talk with Washington's intelligence 
folks. He was a sallow fop with a curious accent and well-cut 
uniform of some cavalry regiment who spent most of the evening 
looking down the front of his hostess's dress.  His gold-chased 
sword was probably worth more than every blade in all the 
Maryland companies from Frederick County.

	The German general had long since taken to his bed with one 
of his ADCs when the last departing guests bid their voluptuous 
hostess a bleary farewell.  The ensign I had marked for capture 
stayed behind, and I watched him eagerly follow the general's wife 
up to her room. She was wearing a long, light and flowing gown 
over hoops that bulged at her hips.  It presented her upthrust 
boobies as if they were a pair of large, ripe melons on a serving 
platter.  A bright, red jewel dangled between them, calling attention 
to their pink fullness and obvious firmness, a perfect pair perched on 
a bed of lace with a small, dark beauty spot painted over her heart.  
I waited, trying not to hear the girlish squeals from the room, until 
he emerged, perhaps ten minutes later, red-faced and wiping his 
mouth, tucking in his shirt, his coat in his hand, and then I quickly 
gagged him and marched him to the cellar where I hog-tied him and 
left him.

	"Was he worth the effort?" I asked the woman who called 
herself Trudy when I closed the door to her dark room.

	"No, not really, just a rabbit, but clever with his longish 
tongue, docile and willing," she said from her huge bed with a 
chuckle.  "What are you doing here?"

	"I'm leaving," I said, sitting on our favorite chair and pulling off 
my boots and britches quietly, determined to have her as I chose.  
"And I wanted a last swive to remember you by, something to keep 
me warm along the road. just a quick shag, nothing too strenuous."

	"I'm much too tired.  Tomorrow, you big fool," she said, 
yawning and rolling over to turn her back to me in the moonlight.  I 
admired the smooth trench of her spine and the mountainous swell 
of her cleft haunch.

	I pulled off my shirt and slid in behind her.

	"No," she squawked as I put my hand on her arm and turned 
her toward me .  "You can't.  Not in bed."

	I closed her mouth with mine, wedged her legs apart with my 
knee and took her as I had wanted to do from the first time I saw 
her, rearing over her, digging in my feet, merciless rapine in my 
heart, hard as steel and pleased that the youngster had warmed 
her.  At first she resisted and struggled like a speared fish, but at 
length gave in and joined the frantic action.  She moaned and flailed 
about, kicking her legs toward the ceiling, urging me on.

	"Sblood," she sighed as I got down to the short rows after 
forty acres of deep plowing, and she made an odd noise and fainted 
as I was about to come, went limp and her eyes rolled back while 
her body spasmed.  That had only happened once or twice before in 
my short career as a pleaser of women and the first was a farm girl, 
as I recall, of perhaps fourteen, and I was not much older. A vision 
of her soft, slack face flickered through my memory.

	I went to her washstand and then brought a cool cloth to her 
forehead and squeezed it.  She stirred and trembled and moaned 
while I mopped her face and kissed her eyelids.  I slid back into the 
bed and held her until she mumbled something halfway rational. 

	"I probably will not be back," I whispered, petting her gently, 
enjoying the feel of her smooth, feverish skin, her endless curves, 
gnawing her nipples gently.

	"Why, where are you going?" she asked, her mouth nibbling at 
my neck, her body shivering as if she was chilled.  She climbed atop 
me.

	"Back to my work," I said, pulling a quilt over us.

	She lifted her robust chest on outstretched arms and looked 
down at me with tendrils of bright hair dangling toward my face.  
"Work?" she said, brows creased, hands on my chest, lowering 
herself on my spear, belly heaving to and fro.  "You work for me."

	"I'm a soldier, a spy, Trudy," I told her while she registered 
both real surprise and mounting pleasure.  

	"You are?" she murmured, as our groins became a very active 
swamp.

	"Washington's army," I said, trying to match her efforts and 
failing.

	"Oh God," she said, attempting to pull out of my grasp while I 
held her clamped to me and pumped into her, overfilled her and 
barely managed not to scream in pleasure and relief.  "I'll call the 
guards," she whispered into my mouth as I jolted us both.  We rolled 
over and back several times, enjoying each other.

	I kissed her as she wriggled wonderfully.  I turned her again 
to her back and rogered her until we both could do no more.  She 
lay spread-eagled and moaning, various fluids bubbling from her 
hairy orifice.  I dressed, retrieved the young officer and headed 
back for our camp in the hills, taking two of the general's horses 
with me.  My lieutenant was happy to have the young one and sent 
him on to be questioned and later exchanged.  He was also pleased 
with my opinion that Howe had no plans to do anything soon and 
was, in fact, tired of the whole war.

	"Where'd you get that boy," Lt. Foster asked.

	"Plucked him off a Hessian's general's bride," I said.

	"Did you now," he said.  "And who might this German be?"

	"Von Vister or Fisterberg, something like that."

	"Otto von Visterberg?"

	"Sounds like it," I said.

	"Why didn't you bring him instead of that puking child?  His 
swords' worth more than he is."

	"Didn't think you'd want a German," I said, beginning to feel a 
bit foolish.

	"Well go back and fetch him," my lieutenant said.  "Right now."

	I slept in the saddle and by dawn had the horse back in her 
own stall and fell into the straw at her head.

	Major, the black slave who ran the house, woke me with a 
pitchfork some time later.  "What chu doin'?" he asked.

	"Sleeping," I said.

	"There's a horse missing," he said.

	"Damn shame," I said, brushing myself off.  "Does the general 
ride?"

	"Ho, ho," said Major, covering his mouth.  "No suh, I ain' never 
seed him on a horse.  Pity the animal he'd mount."

	"You drive for him?"

	He nodded.

	"How'd you and your missus like to be free?" I asked, smiling 
my best smile.

	We talked for a while, and I convinced him that I was serious.  
Then I went back to the house, got something to eat, and ventured 
up the stairs.  Trudy was in her high-backed bathtub, just where I 
had first seen her.  I sat on a stool, put my finger to my lips at her 
maid's glance and watched her for a few minutes before she realized 
I was there.  She jumped when she saw me and covered her lovely 
breasts with a towel from the side of the tub.

	"What are you doing here, you, you oversized rebel you?" she 
asked, standing as Major's calm wife handed her a big towel to wrap 
herself in.

	"I've come to take you away from all this."

	"Hmp," she snorted, "I like all this.  It's an easy life."

	"Well, pack your jewelry and one case of clothes.  We're 
leaving as soon as it gets dark and his lordship gets home."

	"Who's we?" she asked, tossing back her hair as she dried it.

	"You, me, Von Whats-his-name, Major and Carla here.  We're 
all going to visit General Washington.  You'll like him.  He appreciates 
beautiful women."

	"Ridiculous," she said, beckoning me to follow her.  I smiled at 
Carla and went into the redheaded woman's bedroom and closed 
the door.  She dropped the towel, and I grabbed her body and 
kissed her here and there while my hands explored her soft, full 
curves and deep, hidden crevices.  I knelt and nuzzled her hairy 
mound.

	"You fool," she said, pulling me to me feet and sliding her 
hands up under my shirt as I pushed her back to the bed.  She 
seemed always ready to swive, whether we took a long time or no 
time in building up to the shagging, and now she no longer kept me 
out of her bed or forced me to pump out my jism in her hands or 
handkerchiefs.  We rolled around and grunted like pigs as we 
grappled, and I tried to get braced against the heavy footboard.  
We enjoyed each other for some time, drank some brandy, joined 
again energetically and stayed in her big bed, kissing and playing, 
until we heard the crunch of gravel announcing the arrival of her 
lord and master, the gross, Hessian supply officer with the big belly 
and fierce mustaches.

	I dressed while she gathered up her valuables and packed 
some clothes in a leather valise.  She wrapped her green silk gown 
around her and went down to have a light meal with her husband 
while I made the final arrangements for his departure.  Major and 
Clara were ready, the guards had been dismissed for the night, and 
the horses were fed and rested.

	Finally, I went back into the house, slid open the doors and 
entered the dining room where the general was downing some beef 
and red wine and gabbling on about something in his own tongue.  I 
thought he was going to explode when he saw me.  He jumped up, 
cursed and yelled , "Vot!" before, I showed him my big knife and slid 
my hand down the front of his wife's dress to caress her upright 
breast.  She smiled, stood and kissed me while he cursed in German, 
at length.

	In the carriage, Trudy and Clara sat on one side and the 
general and I on the other while Major drove the matched team.  
The disconsolate German dutifully showed his papers to the guards 
that stopped us along the road while I held my big blade's point in 
his ribs.  Once out in the open, we made good time and were soon 
being halted by American sentries.  Foster was pleased with my 
work and sent the general on at once.  He saw to it that Major and 
his wife got their manumission papers for services to the Continental 
Congress as well as a bit of money, and then he took Trudy by the 
arm, waved me away and disappeared into his tent, working on his 
buttons.

	The next morning, Lt. Foster made me a corporal and put me 
back to harassing the pickets and shooting at officers.  Trudy waved 
farewell to me with her arm around Foster's shoulders.  I was sure 
she would not settle for a lieutenant.

	The next time I returned, in a week or so, to get some more 
ammunition and cook some rations, she was living with a colonel, an 
aide to General Conway I was told although I did not see him in 
camp.  When I spotted her, she was wearing a new dress over fluffy 
petticoats and a fancy girdle that laced up the front and pushed her 
boobies even higher than they usually were.

	"Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked after her brief kiss.  I 
began unlacing her fancy stays and pulling her deep bodice lower on 
her chest and down her shoulders.

	"Don't do that," she said, "not out here in the open.  Yes, I'm all 
right, but poor Otto, they won't even give him any schnapps."

	"Poor Otto," I said, pulling her into Foster's empty tent and 
dropping the flap.

	"Oh, I've been here," she said brightly, looking around at the 
writing desk and other things as I pulled her stays open and bent to 
mouth her breast.

	"But I haven't."

	"The war, how dreadful.  You know you mustn't."  She pushed 
me away as I worked on her bodice.

	"Where then?" I asked, popping out one of her high, firm 
breasts.

	"The tavern in town has some fine, rope beds, strong enough 
for even a fat man like you."  She laughed and put her boobie away 
with a graceful, practiced gesture.

	"Have you tested the beds then?"

	"A few," she said.

	"What time?"

	"My Frederick must leave at seven," she said, retying her laces 
and pouting very prettily.  "Poor boy."

	An hour after sunset, she arrived alone, a shawl wrapped 
around her bare shoulders and came to the table where I sat 
drinking, drawing admiring looks from most of the men in the place 
and glares from the women who worked there.

	We wasted no time on food, but hurried up to the room I had 
rented, tore off our clothes, and jumped into the big, comfortable 
bed.  "Damn," she said, "I'd forgotten how big you are.  Go easy, 
please, please, please, please."  She pushed at my chest, lifted her 
legs and then joined me in enjoying the act at her noisy and 
licentious best, her legs high on my back.  On and on we rogered 
until she was almost standing on her head and then she collapsed. 

	"I'm hungry," she whispered, wriggling.

	"Can't be," I said.

	"Please."

	It was late, dark and rainy outside, but the tavern was still 
doing business so I got a couple of pasties and a bottle of wine and 
hurried back up the stairs.  We ate, drank, swived, slept and woke 
to enjoy each other again.

	"It's too bad you're not an officer," she moaned.

	"Yes," I said.  "What a shame.  Would you love me then?"

	"No, but I'd love to have this every morning."

	"Would you," I asked, getting back to work and hoping for 
thirds after such enjoyable seconds.  She was tireless.  It was an 
exciting and exhausting ride with the war completely forgotten for 
an hour, and by then I was baked and ready to go back to my less 
interesting duties.
<1st attachment end>


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