Message-ID: <47519asstr$1082319005@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation: Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: <oldbill2@comcast.net> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com From: oldbill2@comcast.net X-Original-Message-ID: <041820041432.26044.40829187000B84FA000065BC2200735834FFCD9393969D9B93@comcast.net> X-Authenticated-Sender: b2xkYmlsbDJAY29tY2FzdC5uZXQ= X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sun, 18 Apr 2004 14:32:40 +0000 Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 019 Lines: 497 Date: Sun, 18 Apr 2004 16:10:05 -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 X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2004/47519> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: newsman, dennyw <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> ----- 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+