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Message-ID: <47519asstr$1082319005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 019
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Date: Sun, 18 Apr 2004 16:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 019.txt" begin>



Rebel 019 (Old Bill)  (MF hist)

Hard at Work
	
	"Oh! Ahh. Oh! Ahh Oh! Ahh." The lovely girl beneath me had 
a regular chant consisting of a cry of seemingly-surprised pleasure 
with a sharp intake of breath followed by a deep sigh of even more 
intense joy.  The first came as I drove my eager yard into her and 
the second as I slowly withdrew it to plunge again and again and 
again into her clinging heat and vibrant body, to grind against her 
engorged nub and nuzzle her sweaty breasts.  Her legs were 
wrapped about me and her belly quivered against mine as I 
pleasured myself, steadily accelerating, raising her whole arched 
body on my thick spit, rocking wildly from side to side, my brain 
turned off entirely as we bounced and jounced together.

	"Ohohohohohoh," she cried as the pace increased to a frantic 
level of short and intense jabs of just in, in, in, in that sent her 
kicking and clawing, her back and neck tensed and her mouth 
agape.  I let her writhe on my prod and concentrated on depth and 
duration, my stones aching and pulsing to a roiling boil.  I gritted my 
teeth and subdued my urge to scream as I came again, filling the 
pulsing cavity I was in.  It overflowed as I continued to piston into 
her.

	"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped, dying on my lance, her arms falling 
to her sides, and then "Oh God!" again when she climaxed almost at 
once, shuddering and clamping me hard within her as waves of 
pleasure-pain washed over both of us.  She jerked on my spear as if 
shocked repeatedly.  I rotated my hips some and tried to screw it 
more deeply into her.

	We had gone from my initial penetration of her narrow crevice 
and slick but tiny opening with it guardian muscles to the kicking, 
screaming and pounding finale in about five minutes of steady effort 
so I was nowhere near ready to stop my own fierce striving despite 
the fact that the long-haired girl was now collapsing under me, 
seemingly spent and satisfied, a silly smile on her lovely face, limp as 
trampled grass.  It was, I believe, our third sweaty congress of the 
late afternoon that was moving into evening and, if I must evaluate, 
hardly the best of the series.  When I was a lad, three was nothing, 
but now it was an effort.

	I paused, still sunk to the hilt within her, my pike jumping and 
flexing with a will entirely its own.  On fully extended arms I smiled 
down at her, our bodies touching only at a single, pleasurable spot 
as I managed to massage steadily her tiny and sensitive nub by 
grinding at her groin.  I bent down and kissed her gently.  We both 
were dripping sweat and nearly spent.  Her mouth opened but no 
sound emerged, just gulping, so I withdrew a bit and essayed 
another hip thrust into her, rotating my pelvis as best I could, poised 
to spring.  She jumped and her eyes widened in fear as she felt me 
tense to impale her yet again on a slightly different angle.

	"I can't, oh, I really can't, please, oh please pull it out,"
she whined as I rammed my long prod slowly into her, and then again, 
withdrawing each time until I could feel its ridged head at her 
dripping and enfolded lips, her silky hair tickling my stiff stalk, her 
long legs holding me firmly and warmly. Each thrust seemed a yard 
long and each brought forth a sigh of pleasure from both of us.

	I bent and kissed her gently again then pushed myself up, bent 
my back and enjoyed myself freely as she tried to squirm away, 
thoroughly gigged, flailing about loose-limbed.  I gave her twenty or 
thirty more short, fiercesome strokes, each much harder than the 
one before.  Our flesh smacked together very satisfactorily.  When 
her head reached the big bed's hardwood top, she was trapped and 
should have resigned herself to her fate, but she kept squirming, 
trying to escape despite being deeply speared.  I could hear myself 
exhaling with each thrust and the roar of blood in my ears, but I 
turned deaf to her gasping pleas for surce ase.

	"Oh please, please," she cried, "You brute, you've torn me 
asunder." But I could feel her body starting to betray her, beginning 
to respond once more and move in rippling concert with my 
penetration, her hips rising to meet my awesome and ceaseless 
spearing, her thighs still clamping me tightly, breasts heaving up with 
erect nipples seeking friction, tongue lolling in her open mouth. I 
bent my face to hers and her hands came to my back and her tongue 
into my mouth.

	"I can't; I can't," she moaned as I rose yet again, bending my 
back painfully to arch into her, but she could and she did, cresting 
again, spraying me with her spittle when she squealed with pleasure, 
her bare feet thumping the mattress beside my knees.  After I had 
pumped out my aching stones' load of sperm in a series of gushing 
bolts, I slowed my motions to a very gentle sliding of my mast in and 
out of her deep, tight socket, now oiled to the point of being totally 
slick and smooth, an easy passage to intense satisfaction. I stopped 
my thrusts and simply let my prick have its head, so to speak, and it 
jumped and frolicked in its muscular play yard. At last, both hungry 
and thirsty as well as limply sodden and thoroughly spent, I 
withdrew and fell beside her, kissing her bare shoulder and letting 
my hand rest in the sticky hair of her soft and throbbing mound.

	"Beast," she sighed.  "Stallion, bull, freak, monster, cock, oh 
wondrous cock." She grabbed it.  "Oh, beautiful cock, monstrous 
cock."

	I kneaded and petted her while her hand stroked my 
shrunken member, stretching its flaccid body out on my hairy belly 
and pinching its sticky head.

	"You are certainly no gentleman," she said quietly, sniffing so I 
might suspect she was shedding tears.

	"Never claimed I was," I told her, letting two fingers spread 
her lips while the middle two slid up into her molasses drenched 
crevice.  She was bubbling out fluids like an artesian well.

	"You deceived me," she claimed, playing with the head of my 
tired prod, pulling at the stalk, stretching the wide thing out to its 
full length and then tracing the thick blood vessel that lay along its 
wrinkled base.

	"Never," I said as my thumb found her erect prick and my 
hand cupped her soaked and pouting privates.  She was leaking 
juices in gobs and still very warm, her lovely body all a tremble, 
flushed and sweating.

	"You said you were tired, needed sleep," she whispered, her 
lips touching my ear and her knee now nudging my shrunken 
ballocks, warm breast flopping on my chest.

	"And I do," I replied, pulling her to me, getting my two sticky 
fingers into her from the back and wiggling them about.

	"Yee," she gasped as her whole body reacted to the intrusion.

	"So go to sleep and let me rest," I said, withdrawing my hand, 
patting her firm, rounded buttocks and turning to grasp her off side 
breast while my mouth took in the startled nipple of the nearer 
globe.

	"Ah," she sighed, pulling me to her as I tongued her.  I could 
feel myself hardening as was her dug, but my mind urged me to 
caution and to rest.

	She licked my nipples, wriggled down my body and took the 
length of my root between her lush breasts, holding them together 
to form a sweat-slick tunnel for me to move within.  It was hardly 
what I wanted, but it was an interesting feeling, surging up under 
her chin time after time while she chuckled and wiggled.

	Then she scooted still further down my frame, held my hairy 
legs and took the swollen head of my phallus between her soft lips, 
licking it gently and then sucking it into her mouth, her hands 
moving up to my pelvis as she nibbled its stalk and tongued its head.

	That was even more pleasant.  She was very diligent and able 
to take two or three inches of my thick pole into her mouth as she 
crouched over me.  When she had me fully erect, she grabbed my 
pike at its thick base and squatted above it, moving left and 
 right on her knees to get centered before she lowered her cunny down its 
entire length, impaling herself with a teeth-gritting smile while her 
big boobs bounced about.  When the whole rigid spear had 
disappeared under her curly mat, she shook her head, lifted her 
chin, sighed and began an up and down movement using the 
muscles of her thighs.  I reached up and held her jouncing breasts, 
running her jutting nipples through my fingers.

	When she spasmed and tired, I raised my legs behind her and 
she leaned back, her hands on her own legs as I took over the pace, 
thrusting up steadily until I was cannonading into her, and she was 
dropping repeatedly on my belly, head lolling freely.  She collapsed 
atop me, biting my neck and then enjoyed another throbbing orgasm 
that seemed to last for several minutes.  I thought she was going to 
tear my root from my groin before she was done and lay moaning 
on me, sobbing, "Enough, enough."

	I stroked her, pulled the covers up over us and then, 
somehow, we slept, tangled together.

	I awoke, frighteningly erect and not knowing where I was or 
who the young woman sleeping beside me was.  Slowly, as I 
tweaked my rigid member and cupped my throbbing ballocks, 
memory returned in ragged fragments.

	She was the young and luscious wife of a very high ranking 
Tory, a wealthy man of extraordinarily odd tastes who had 
seemingly married her on a whim and then neglected her as if she 
did not exist while he dallied with young boys and much older 
women at a high-priced bordello.  She lived in a fine and fancy house 
in the best part of the city, surrounded by servants and silverware.  
She had wardrobes stuffed with all sort of expensive clothes and 
hoards of perfumes and jewelry that might have made her the envy 
of every woman on the East Coast of North America.  What she 
lacked was a competent lover.

	I had helped her on the street when I saw her and her 
cowering maid being accosted by a rough-looking pair of 
incomprehensible Germans, and she invited me to dine and then, 
quite shyly, to her bed.  I claimed fatigue, concealing my politics and 
assignment, but never willing to miss an opportunity to enjoy a good 
meal or a willing woman, especially one this pretty or so obviously 
needy.

	She surely was not yet twenty, indeed still carried a bit of the 
soft curves of childhood in her face.  But her body was fully formed, 
generously endowed and regally mounted.  And she was damn near 
tireless.  I had taken her at the foot of her bed before she shed her 
shift and stays, on my lap in an oversized rocking chair in just her 
shift and then naked and spread-eagled on the rug before her 
fireplace in a single orgiastic romp before we made it to her bed 
about sunset where I claimed to be much too tired for another 
coupling which began almost at once.  That led to her cries for mercy 
and to her gallop on my loins as we made the beast at least two 
more times that long night if memory serves.  Five must surely be my 
limit even with a good rest period in between.

	Now in the pre-dawn gloom I was the possessor of a mighty 
tool, a thick lightening rod of frightful proportions, its purple head 
the size of a goose egg and its heavy-veined shaft as thick and hard 
as my bayonet handle.  I brought to my mind what we had done the 
evening previous, chuckling in my throat at the romping in the 
rocking chair, and then roused her with a kiss on her pert nose and 
a hand between her mounded thighs.  She flicked open her dark 
blue eyes and stretched like a cat, raking her light brown hair from 
her forehead as she lifted her breasts to my face, and I slipped a 
finger into her.

	I nuzzled between her firm boobs, licking each nipple in turn 
and then kissed my way past her deep navel to her belly and down 
to find her tiny prick which I licked and sucked until she squealed, 
her hands yanking on my queue to pull me up to her mouth.

	She spread her legs, dug in her heels, closed her eyes and let 
me lift her rump to seat my monstrous prod in her deep-sucking, fat-
lipped twat.  As it sank very slowly, inch by thick and rigid inch, 
opening her narrow passage very wide, she moaned a bit and 
wriggled beneath me, lubricating the way, but we finally got it in, all 
tucked away like a wild animal in a small cage and then we began, 
bellies slapping together, and before we stopped I was up on my 
knees with the girl pinned to the headboard on her toes, legs bent, 
back arched, and both of us were sobbing with passion.  I fell to my 
back and pulled her atop me, my hands filled with her firm buttocks.  
My horn slammed up into her as she recoiled on me, her tongue in 
the corner of her mouth and her eyes closed until she came again, I 
am not sure how-many-times since awaking, as the sun finally rose 
and colored us orange.  Barely popping free, I rolled her over, lifted 
her rump, pulled a fluffy pillow under her and was back in her in 
seconds, rooted her down to the foot of the bed and holding her 
hips firmly while I finished my morning exercises, snorting but 
resisting the urge to scream when I came with my stones mashed 
against her willing flesh and my swelling rod jumping like a fire hose 
as it jolted deep within her gripping passage, her legs well up on my 
shoulders.

	I was quickly hired on as her new driver, sent off for fitting of 
my livery, and promised a shilling a day and keep for my work.  The 
family had three carriages, all fine and expensive vehicles, and a 
whole stable of horses, mayhap two dozen.  I hauled the girl and 
her fat and flighty husband to and fro, went on errands of various 
sorts, and spent my spare time between the beauty's long and 
muscular legs, teaching her tricks.  After a few days, when I had her 
stretched to my outsized dimensions, we became a pair that seemed 
made for each other, peaking together and finding constant ways to 
increase the duration of our couplings and pleasure we gave and 
received.  She was very inventive and, I suspect, had an old book 
hidden away somewhere with well-thumbed pages and Oriental art 
work.

	I robbed my master shamelessly, rifled through his papers 
regularly and made him a famous cuckold among his staff and 
servants.  They all knew what I was doing and how often I did it. I 
had no idea how the story would end and did not much care.  By 
the end of the first week, she told me that we had accomplished the 
magnificent total of twenty-seven full-fledged rogerings, most of 
them multiple.  She had been keeping track with pearls in a jar.  The 
jar would have held a quart and I intended to fill it as fast as 
possible, since this idyll could not long last.

	My eyes and ears were providing me with many interesting 
tidbits relative to British strength and intentions.  I visited with other 
drivers and equerry while awaiting my employers in various settings 
and learned a great deal of useful rumor.  I was sure I was doing at 
least part of the job I had been assigned while I ate well and rogered 
even better.  Then the master called me to his sitting room on the 
first Monday of the third week I had been in his employ.

	"I am told," he said, taking snuff from the back of his hand 
and then fluttering out his lace cuffs, "that you have been, on 
occasion, unduly familiar with the mistress of this house."

	"I hope not, sir," I said with a straight face, avoiding the girl's 
blue eyes and glowing bosom as she sat demurely beside her starchy 
husband, her plump orbs nearly pushed out the top of her silk 
gown, looking thoroughly refreshed as indeed she was, a very 
small, heart-shaped beauty-spot decorating her left boob.  I hoped 
none of my teeth marks showed.  I had tried to be careful, nibbling 
the underside of her breasts, but we were often out of control in 
her bed.  "I have only done as requested, no more or less."

	"That's true, Henry," the girl said, showing me her curled 
tongue which had so often circled my meat.  "Honestly it is.  He's 
very polite, very diligent and clean as well."  She had demanded I 
bathe, and she often licked my member for me, slurping up every 
errant drop before we parted.

	"Nevertheless," he said after a sour look at her, "we cannot 
have scandal.  You are dismissed."  He handed me a velvet purse.  
"Another week's wages," he said.  "On your way."

	I knuckled my forehead and turned on my heel.

	"Wait," the woman said, standing quickly and then dropping 
to one knee before her lord and master.  "I beg you, sir, give the 
man one more chance to prove himself a true and loyal servant.  I 
will keep a close eye on him and report, I assure you, any laziness or 
faults.  He is not very bright, but he is a diligent mechanic."

	The Tory looked at his luscious wife as though she were a 
lizard or some such creature.  "We can get another driver, you 
know m'dear, perhaps one big enough to use those clothes."

	"Another week, sir," she begged, standing and holding both 
his hands.  "He has been most helpful to me, in the shopping and so 
forth. There are so many brigands about, ruffians.  He scares them 
off because he is so large."

	"Very well," he said sourly.  "But this week comes from your 
accounts."  He waved me away and behind him the young woman 
stuck out her tongue at me.  I pocketed my severance pay without 
regret.

	Sure he had a spy of some sort in his own home, the girl and I 
became most circumspect, joining our eager bodies only in the loft of 
the carriage house daily and once in the root cellar late at night 
before I appeared before my master again, having gathered up 
every scrap of useful paper he had left lying about.

	"Much better, sirrah," he said to me on the next Sunday. 
"Much better.  The carriages positively gleam.  My dear wife was 
right about you."

	I touched my forelock and looked over his head at the bulging 
breasts of his young wife.  She licked her lips and spread her knees.

	"Now we are having important guests this Saturday, many 
carriages will be arriving at dusk.  Make sure all is in readiness.  Get 
to it," he said with a wave.  I bowed myself out, but that evening, 
after delivering the master to his favorite bordello, I returned to 
their manse, ran up the stairs, tore off my clothes and pounced on 
his wife.

	"Gah," she cried as I speared her and lifted her up on her 
shoulders.  A hundred or so strokes later, as we lay tumbled 
together, resting between bouts, I asked, "Who are your guests to 
be?"

	"Most of Howe's staff," she said, her luscious chest rising and 
falling very rapidly beneath my mouth.  "All the planners and supply 
folk, a lot of big wigs."

	"I fear our days together are about to end," I said, as I 
remounted while she lay on her side, one leg up on my shoulder.

	"I hope not, sir," she gasped out between squeals of pleasure 
as I rotated each half-foot ram.

	I held my peace, much too busy to explain, until we both had 
achieved our gushing goals and fallen back to the mattress.

	"Your party, I fear," I told her, "will be disturbed by a bunch 
of rebels this Saturday.  They will, in all likelihood, carry off some of 
your guests, and may be forced to send a few to hell where they 
obviously belong."

	"Oh," she said, putting a delicate hand to her soft mouth, her 
eyes wide.  "You are a rebel."

	"Yes, my love," I told her as I flipped her over and raised her 
up, spread her knees a bit and took her from behind, banging her 
curly head against the wall a time or two until I pulled us back in to 
the middle of the bed where I was able to satisfy her and enjoy 
myself at some length, turning her nearly upside down.  I briefly 
wondered if she could suck my stones while I horsed her.

	"Where are you going?" she asked as I got back into my 
clothes.  She was ready for more bedding I was sure.

	I explained that I had to go to make preparations and 
skedaddled telling I would be back bright and early on Saturday 
morning.

	In fact George, Michael and I were not on the ground until 
high noon.  We had brought a light supply wagon with us and had 
high hopes of hauling off several useful Redcoats.

	In the afternoon, the master called me in to ask if all was 
prepared.  I assured him that we were ready as his wife stood at his 
side.  He dismissed me with a wave.

	"A word with you."  She dropped her husband a small curtsey 
and took my elbow.

	Out in the hall, she noiselessly closed the door.  "Come," she 
said, pulling me toward the stairs, "I've figured something out.  We 
have to try it.  I think you're the only one big enough."

	We ran up the steps and to her room.  I locked the door while 
she crawled up into the rocking chair, her head down in its back, her 
knees on the seat and her rump up in the air. She grasped the rungs 
on the back of the chair, wiggled her rounded buttocks and hissed  
at me.  "Hurry!  Let's give it a try."

	I unlimbered my warming weapon, stroked it to rigidity, 
flipped up her skirts, and flexed it into her tiny quim from the back, 
my hands on her round and pink butt.  In and in I slid my member 
until it was seated and sheathed, pushing the chair onto the tips of 
its rockers.  Then I slapped her rounded tail lightly.  "Now what?" I 
asked as my root leapt for joy within her and I stood upright, my 
other hand in the small of my back.

	"Put your hands behind you and stand still," she said, rocking 
back toward me.  "Ready?"

	'Go on," I said, mystified but feeling no pain, about half into 
her as I stood up straight, feet well apart to get the height properly.

	She began rocking back and forth, dragging my rigid horn out 
of her as she went forward and then sinking it deeply into her 
slippery slot as she moved back toward me.  She rocked slowly, just 
a few inches at first, but as we got used to the motion she increased 
the length and speed of her movements until I had to thrust my belly 
forward to stay in her at full extension.  I watched my shaft slide in 
and out of her with some wonder and surely enjoyed the effortless 
friction.  When she reached her orgasm, I heard her suck in air and 
she stopped rocking so I picked up the task and finished my own 
climax in good form after ramming the chair up against the wall, and 
withdrawing only after pumping myself dry.

	"Wasn't that fun?" she asked, clambering from the chair and 
straightening her clothes, her face a bit splotchy.

	"Indeed," I said, bending to hold her breast and kiss her 
mouth.  "I am truly sorry that I must leave you."

	"You could kill him," she whispered.  "He could have an 
accident."

	"I think not," I said.  "He's a harmless fool.  I do not kill such if 
I can avoid it."

	She produced a handkerchief from somewhere and dabbed at 
her eyes.

	"Come back when you can," she sobbed, hugging me.

	As dark approached, carriages began to arrive.  I directed 
them to the outbuildings where Michael and George disarmed and 
hog-tied their drivers and footmen one after the other.  When that 
stream ended we had more than a dozen guests carousing, lapping 
up wine and whisky and pawing each other's wives and 
sweethearts.  When I stepped into the front hall with well-armed 
men behind me, looking a ferocious as they could, silence swept 
across the room like a tide.

	A young subaltern on my left drew his sword, and George 
clubbed him down with the stock of his bayonet -tipped musket.  I 
ordered the women into the parlor and slid the doors closed and 
disarmed the men.  Then we questioned them quickly, singled out 
two who seemed to be worth carrying off from their blustering and 
gold decorations, liberated a few heavy purses and we about to 
depart with our protesting prisoners when the master of the house 
decided to play the hero.

	He jumped out at me. I ducked and he fell over my shoulder 
to sprawl on the floor.  Before I could say a word, Michael had 
bayoneted him three times, neck, chest and belly, and then stood 
with his dripping spike as the other men cowered away.  We stuffed 
the five still breathing into the cellar and locked the door.  I called 
the hostess in from the parlor, and she looked down at her bleeding 
husband, careful not to get her slippers into his pooling blood.

	I handed her the key.  "Let them out in an hour or so," I said.  
"You are now, I assume, a very rich, young widow."

	She nodded, speechless, and we left.

	Foster was displeased with our catch, but we were able to 
trade them for some useful men.
<1st attachment end>


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