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Message-ID: <47725asstr$1083881402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 032
Lines: 363
Date: Thu,  6 May 2004 18:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 032.txt" begin>

Rebel 032 (Old Bill)  (MF hist)

Waiting for a Traitor

	The noisy thunderstorm brought me what I wanted, the 
reluctant girl.  She came hurriedly into my room as the lightening 
flashed again and jumped into my bed and beneath my raised quilt 
before the thunder crashed.  She huddled against me, hands over 
her ears and I held her gently, enjoying the feel of her ripe body, 
the firmness of her buttocks.  She was a glorious blonde, the kind of 
young woman that could not pass men without garnering leering 
looks, the kind that made men whimper at night and brought young 
members up to flaring attention with barely a thought. My fingers 
slipped into her crack and sought her nether lips.

	"Now don' get any ideas," she whispered, wriggling to get 
free of my hands.  "I'm jus' a'frighted."  We were alone in her 
house, and we both knew it. I had been flirting with her all day 
completely without success, sniffing around her like a dog in heat. 
She turned away from me and sniffed.

	"You can stay just as long as you like," I assured her as my 
right hand found her left breast and cupped its firm fullness.  She 
pushed my hand away and sank with her back to me as lightening 
flashed again.  I got my knees under hers.  Her firm rump felt good 
on my belly as we cuddled spoon fashion. I felt my prong tremble 
and begin to fill.

	"Keep your hands to yourself," she said as my prod rose 
between her long legs, and I pawed her stomach, fingers reaching 
into her curls.

	"Yes'm," I said, trying not to laugh.  I brushed her fine hair 
aside, breathed on the back of her neck and kissed the ridge of her 
ear.

	"None a'that," she sighed with a laugh in her voice.  "Stop it 
now."

	The head of my rising prong touched her thigh as my hands 
attempted to gather up her long nightdress.

	"What's that?" she asked quickly, aware that it was neither of 
my hands since one was on her raised hip and the other was in her 
grip as it clawed toward her breast.

	"What?" I asked innocently, pushing my hips forward so my 
overheated ram rose toward her groin, its head eagerly probing and 
pushing her gown higher as it did, poking it between her thighs.

	She reached down between her own legs, thus spreading her 
thighs for me, and her hand found the fat head of my rigid bone.  
"Oh," she said.

 	"Um," I said, my spear butting into her palm.  She yanked 
down her nightgown and closed her legs tightly, squishing me 
pleasurably.

	With a fierce crash, lightening hit something nearby so the 
noise came right with the blinding flash.  She jumped and squealed, 
and came meekly into my arms, still with her back to me.  I pulled 
her nightdress up to her hips, and then I pushed the head of my 
rigid member just between her trembling lips, all the way up.  I was 
at the pearly gates, and they had just parted.  I folded her within 
my arms protectively, feeling her heels moving against my shins.  My 
cock rubbed her hard little love button.

	"Oh," she said with a sniff, her nether lips damp and trembling 
as my prong traveled up and down her slit, lying in the quivering 
length of her parted lips.  "Well, if you don't go any farther."

	I held her hip with my left hand and slid my right down her 
belly to her hairy mound.  "Whatever you say," I told her.  "The 
storm will pass."

	Another boom shook the cottage, and I popped it in and got 
an inch or two deep, waggling my hips right and left and pressing 
firmly.  She sucked in her breath and made a noise in her throat.  My 
fingers explored her curly muff, and her hands clawed at the quilts.

	"You're going to do it, aren't you?" she asked as my probing 
fingers found her tiny nub and my other hand closed on her luscious 
breast, its nipple hardening quickly.  She took a deep breath. I 
teased her tiny prick from its covering. She was breached and did 
not know it.

	"Not if you don't want to," I assured her, now perhaps three 
inches in and beginning to feel her tight quim suck me deeper.  Her 
pulse had quickened and her belly quivered.

	"You know I don't.  I'm bespoken.  I'll marry next month.  Oh, 
please; it's too big.  Please don' do it."

	I was at least halfway into her now, spreading her open as I 
went, filling her completely.  There was no turning back.  I flexed it 
and she moaned. Her flesh parted.

	"Only my lover has ever, ever, oh, oh, oh my god, my god, my 
god."  She mewled and shook as my prong kept swelling and 
growing within her, seeking friction and depth, vibrating with 
thudding pulses, sliding back and forth very gently. Her nipple was 
rigid.

	"He's never even, oh, oh, please, please," she shook and 
arched in my grip, "harder, harder, shove it in, all the way in."

	"Are you sure?" I asked as the thunder rumbled in the 
distance.  "I think the storm has passed on."

	"Ah, ah, ah," she gasped as I pushed my hips forward and she 
rammed hers back.  I edged beneath her, grasping her body and 
rolling her atop me, nearly fully impaled, her legs limp beside mine, 
head back on my chest.

	I held her luscious breast with my left hand, squeezing out her 
nipple, and her right hand and mine joined to feel my shaft side in 
and out of her slick lips.  Her belly trembled and her breath came in 
gasps.  I was probably six inches deep but bent severely.

	"Please, please," she moaned, writhing.  "We must stop."

	I stopped, holding my spear fully extended, but in the position 
we were in, it was hardly as far in as it might have been.  We both 
we shaking with, there are no other words, animal lust.  I was 
tempted to push her upright and really spear her.

	"Thank you, oh, yes, please, thank you," she sighed.  "It feels 
so good." I now had both hands on her young breasts, teasing out 
her pointed nipples, aching to suck them. My cock leapt and 
shuddered, bent into its slick prison, wanting more but evidently 
stimulating her most tender places. Her hands were in her groin, 
fingertips just touching my thick rod and its throbbing keel.

	Her breathing slowed and I heard her swallow and then she 
suddenly spasmed as an orgasm swept through her.  I slid my hands 
all the way down her body to her thighs and then back up to her 
belly as she gasped out her success.

	"That's not so bad, is it?" I asked, refilling my hands with her 
breasts, lifting and stroking them.

	"It isn't right," she said, wiggling.  "Please let me go."

	"Just a bit more," I begged, rolling over and turning her face 
down on the bed.  She was soon up on her knees and elbows, rump 
high, and I slowly pushed my rigid prong all the way into her, 
holding her hips as I did so, inch after thick and hard inch.  She 
squealed, but I was in, to the hairy hilt and ready to get down to 
some serious swiving.

	I ignored her protests and began doing her in sets of ten; ten 
fast, ten very slow, ten twisting, ten lifting, ten just inward, ten 
slowly out until only the head of my tool was still in her and then 
thrusting all the way home, bashing my swollen stones into her flesh, 
crying out with pleasure as I did.  On and on I went until she 
climaxed again before me, her face down in the quilts, grunting with 
release.

	I slowed, well into the second hundred and wanting to extend 
my rogering, holding myself in hard discipline and letting my ram do 
what it wished within her sopping cunny, my finger pressed hard 
under my cock and against the thick vein pulsing there.

	She was spent, weeping and sniveling, her back shaking.  I 
pulled it out and let her fall, still eager for more of her tight quim but 
willing to be patient.  I flopped beside her on my back, my blood-hot 
root stretching out above my stomach, my hand grasping firmly and 
waiting for it to relax a bit.  She rolled over and cuddled next to me.  
Her knee found the hard knot that was my turgid ballocks.

	"I've never," she began, "that was; you've ruined me, ruined 
me."

	"I need your help," I said quietly, caressing her smooth back.

	"Um," she said, her face on my hairy chest as my fingers 
stroked the crack between her buttocks.

	"Your intended's father," I said as calmly as I could, "I want to 
kill him, make it look like an accident."

	She stiffened.

	"Why, why?" she demanded, her knee still bumping my 
swollen sac, trembling belly pressed against my blood-hot rod. 
"Can't we do it again?"

	I pushed her flat, rolled between her legs, spread and lifted 
her knees and crawled forward until the blunt and rubid head 
disappeared into her followed by many pressing inches of thick 
shaft.  Then I let go of her legs and thrust it in to the very hilt, one 
vicious ram to the entrance of her womb. She gasped and shivered.

	I held it there, fully extended and battering at the base of her 
cunt.  She shook her head from side to side, flailing me with her hair 
her mouth agape with desire, eyes closed.

	"He is a foul turncoat who has betrayed dozens of good 
men," I told her, lifting her hips and starting all over with long, slow 
thrusts and even slower withdrawals, rubbing hard against her 
nubbin, sawing steadily, in and out, over and over, deeper and 
deeper.

	She came almost at once, gasping and arching, spasming and 
clamping me within her, as I stimulated her clit with every lengthy 
stroke, grinding us together.

	"Yes," she said after she licked spit back into her mouth and 
swallowed, looking up at me, eyes wide as I continued to assault her 
slim body at a steady cadence, about quick marching pace, two rams 
per second.

	"You know him, don't you, know he is foul?"

	She nodded, making small throat noises in time with my 
efforts. Just, "ung, ung, ung."

	"Would you rather I didn't ejaculate in you?"

	She nodded and mouthed, "Please, please," without changing 
the noises she was making.

	Without breaking my rhythm I asked her, "Have you ever had 
a man's member in your mouth?"

	She shook her head and closed her eyes, still, making the "Uh, 
uh, uhm," sounds as I continued to thrust into her shaking body, my 
stones tightening and swelling, closer and closer.

	"All right," I said, pulling my sore member slowly out of her, 
rolling from the bed and stumbling to the window with my cock in 
my hand.  I raised the sash and spewed out ribbons of jism into the 
night, milking myself and bending over, clamping my jaws to keep 
from crying out with relief.

	When I was done, I wiped my ram on the curtains and came 
back to bed.  She was still there, spread-eagled and moaning.

	"I didn't know you were a . . ." she said as I slid down beside 
her and pulled her warm body to me.

	"A what?" I said after I kissed her.

	"A killer." She kissed me back and lifted her leg atop my waist, 
crooking her knee, holding us together.

	"That's what I do,' I admitted, making my way down her 
young body.  I kissed her clit, her navel, her nipples, her throat and 
her mouth and then I was back in her as we lay side by side, not far 
in, but in.

	She made an odd noise but did not resist as my prod wiggled 
and flexed, sliding deeper and deeper, spreading her open as I 
rocked left and right.

	"You know," I said to her mouth, "the second rogering usually 
lasts a lot longer than the first."

	"Good," she said.  I rolled to my back and pulled her atop me.

	When we finally stopped, the eaves were still dripping but 
there was some faint light in the east. We slept.  I was furiously hard 
when I awoke, but when I roused her, she quickly slipped from the 
bed, donned my long-tailed shirt and hurried off to the privy.

	I lay there on my back, my long pole eager for action.  When 
she returned, I flipped back the covers and held the thing at its thick 
base, pressing it down on my belly.  She crawled across the bed and 
took its head into her mouth without hesitation.  It was not an easy 
thing to do.  After she sucked it as deeply as she could, she swung a 
leg across mine, crouched above my throbbing spear and lowered 
herself gradually upon it, impaling herself with a smile on her face.  I 
watched it disappear into her, rubbing along her tender lips and 
stimulating her tiny clit as it did, turning her lips inward as I filled her 
with a stalk that seemed about as broad as my fist and as long as her 
forearm.  She smiled down at me, tossed my shirt aside and brought 
her breasts down to my mouth.

	The sun was well up when I finally had to admit I was sated 
and withdrew my long member from her sodden quim.

	She held it and kissed me.  "About this murder," she said, 
raising an eyebrow.

	"Execution,' I said, returning her kiss.

	"It will certainly make my fiancŽ immensely wealthy."

	"I suppose," I said, wondering why she was kneading my 
stones so tenderly.  "Depends how he has it invested."

	"Gold, farms, warehouses," she said.  "I've never felt like this.  
Take me again."

	"Let's get something to eat," I suggested.

	"Um," she said, slipping down my body to engulf my root's 
sore head with her soft lips. Her tongue was wonderful, very 
talented.

	"Later," I said, trying to pull her away.

	'Now," she insisted, releasing my swelling member briefly to 
tell me just that.

	"I really can't," I told her, tangling my fingers in her hair.

	"Um," she said, sucking deeply and squeezing my hardening 
balls.

	When she was satisfied that I was once more capable of giving 
her pleasure, she fell to her back, lifted her knees and spread her 
legs.   What choice did I have?  I plunged into her like a man diving 
into an icy pool, and she enveloped me completely and enjoyed 
herself until she had climaxed thrice and was lying limp beneath me 
with a smile on her lovely face.

	"Enough," she gasped out, "enough for now."

	I pulled what little remained of my proud manhood from her 
grasping cunny, found my clothes and joined her for a huge 
breakfast where we plotted assassination.  She told me, looking 
embarrassed that the man I wanted to do away with had tried to 
seduce her.  She hated him, she said.

	Her lover and his father arrived at her invitation the next 
evening, a day in which the girl and I had spent inventing stimulating 
positions and exhausting each other with our fleshy demands.  In 
less than a day she had changed, it seemed, from demure maiden of 
modest experience into a lusty wench whose needs were not easily 
met.  I hoped her husband-to-be was up to the challenge.

	I was introduced as a distant cousin, having shaved and 
brushed my clothes, and we enjoyed a light supper, discussing this 
and that.  The father, a florid and mannerless man, inquired of the 
girl's dowry but his son brushed away the question.

	I invited the man to come out to the barn to see the brood 
stock the girl's father had accumulated, and once I had him there, I 
bound and gagged him, told him he had been tried and convicted of 
treason, tied a good noose about this neck and hoisted him five feet 
off the floor.  I let him dangle a while then lowered him to the dirt 
and plunged a hayfork through his neck and chest while he looked 
up at me, waving his hands, unable to speak.

	Then I mounted and left, wondering how that story would 
end.



<1st attachment end>


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