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Message-ID: <47745asstr$1084047001@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 036 (MF hist)
Lines: 373
Date: Sat,  8 May 2004 16:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 036 (MF hist).txt" begin>

Rebel 036 (Old Bill) (MF hist)

Losing Grace

	It took me a while to figure out that the big, young woman 
with the long legs and wild hair was in charge of the place and that 
the man I mistook for the inn-keeper was just one of her employees.  
She was well past being sturdy, maybe five-eight in her thick-heeled 
boots and easily twelve stone.  She wore plain, country clothes with 
no decoration and her full, firm body moved freely beneath them 
like some sort of caged animal.  She had heavy thighs, wide hips and 
full breasts, a firm jaw and a hawk nose.  Nobody was likely to call 
her pretty, but she surely was strong, fiercely strong.  I wanted her 
almost at once and could imagine her perched on my horn and 
begging for more.

	When business slowed, I grabbed her haunch as she passed 
and she turned on me, swinging a wild right.  I grabbed her fist and 
pulled her down beside me.  "This here is all yours, isn't it?" I asked 
as my smile calmed her a bit.  I held her wrist firmly and enjoyed the 
warmth of her nearness, the smell of her sweat.

	She nodded, and I introduced myself and told her my mission 
in a general way, careful as usual.

	"Mmpf," she snorted, brushing my paw away from her large 
dug.  "My brother is a captain in the Jersey militia, the loyal militia, 
and I've got an uncle who works for the commissary in the city."

	"Interesting," I said, releasing her arm.  She rubbed her wrist 
and held my gaze.  Her eyes were brown and her eyebrows thick 
and dark.

	"We're just trying to keep an eye on them," I said.  "Figure out 
what they plan to do next."

	She chuckled and pulled her dress higher on her shoulder to 
cover her half-exposed melon. She certainly was not wearing stays. 
"They plan to run you back into the hills and make foxy George 
dance on the end of rope," she said.  "Any fool can see that."

	"We thought Howe might move on Philadelphia," I said, 
draining my beer.  She waved and two more appeared, and she did 
 not seem to mind my hand on her leg.

	"He might, might do both at the same time," she said, her hip 
touching mine.  "He's got men coming in all the time, Germans as well 
as foot companies from Canada.

	"You willing to help us, keep your ears open?"

	"No," she said.  "I don't give a damn about this stupid war.  
Hope it ends soon.  Good men are out there getting themselves 
killed, both sides."

	I nodded agreement to that. 

	"How long have you run this place?" I asked.

	"Since my father died and my man run off," she said.  "Went 
west, he did, took most of our savings with him."

	"When was that?"

	"Year, no year and half now," she said, making a sour face.

	That answer peaked my interest and stirred my groin.  I put 
my hand back on her thick thigh.  "Anything you miss?" I asked.

	"Nope," she said, removing my paw.  "I can do without."  She 
gave me a good smile and rose to take care of a stagecoach full of 
customers who were just coming in.  I moved around, buying a beer 
or two and doing some listening, and pretty soon it was closing time, 
dark and chilly. 

	"You got a bed I can rent?" I asked the woman as she put 
chairs up on tables so the man could sweep.

	"I been thinking," she said.

	I held my peace.

	"Might be I could use a man," she said quietly, almost a 
whisper.  "We could talk about some things."

	"Talk?" I said, helping with the chairs.

	She smiled.  "My room's on the left at the top of the steps over 
there.  I'll be right along."

	I almost ran up the stairs but then decided it might be better if 
I kept my britches on a while longer.  So I sat on her chair, crossed 
my legs and waited, increasingly tumescent as I imagined her naked.  
I did not have to wait long.  A lean, young man with flapping 
coattails, high boots and a pistol in his waist came in with the big 
woman right behind him.

	"This's my brother Matthew," she said with a grin as I stood 
and took the man's outstretched hand.  We tested each other a bit 
as the woman sat on her bed and her brother sat beside her.  She 
was a bit bigger than he.

	"Understand you work for the enemy," Matthew said.

	"Depends on how you see the world," I said.

	He nodded.  "These Germans are turning my stomach."

	"Enough to make a dog sick," I said, and he nodded again.

	"I think I'd like to join you, the rebels I mean," he said.

	I waited, watching the woman more than the man.

	"Few of my men might come along.  I'm called a lieutenant 
these days."

	"You'd all be welcome, I'm sure," I said.  "When?"

	"Right now," he said.

	"Best wait to morning," I suggested.  "I don't care to be out 
riding at night if I can help it."

	"At least come meet them," he said, standing.  "It's not far.  We 
can walk."

	"Jersey men?" I asked.

	"Mostly," he said.  The woman stood beside her brother and 
put her hand on his arm.  "We won't be long," he said to her.

	I followed him down the stairs, out of the inn and a mile or so 
up the worn road to a small encampment.  A cooking fire smoldered 
and a sentry appeared from behind a tree as we approached.  
Matthew said a word to him, and we proceeded into the camp 
where he stirred up the fire and put on some more sticks.

	Several men crawled out of their tents and stood about 
looking at us.  "Give me your belt," Matthew said, his pistol an inch 
from my stomach.  I unbuckled and handed him my bayonet, 
cartridge box and heavy belt.  "Put your hands behind you," he said 
quietly, and another man came and tied my wrists together.  "My 
sister is a fool," the young man said, poking me with his weapon.  
"Sit."

	I sat, crossed legged.  There appeared to be six of them in 
addition to Matthew, hard-looking men.  The woman's brother may 
have been the youngest of the bunch.

	"There's a price on your head, on all those like you," Matthew 
said.  "We're going to share it, ten pounds.  But they do want you 
alive and talking."

	"Don't have much to say," I offered, as the knots were pulled 
tight, cutting my wrists.

	"You will," he said with a nasty smile.  Two men dragged me 
back to a tree, sat me down at its base and wrapped a rope under 
my chin twice and around the thick trunk.  The camp settled quickly, 
the sentry was relieved and soon the men were asleep.  I worked on 
my ropes diligently, rubbing my wrists against the bark and 
squirming my head sideways and down until the rope was in my 
mouth. The sentry came back, put another piece of wood on the fire, 
glanced at me and shuffled out of sight.  I worked my way to the 
side of the tree, gave up trying the chew my way out about the time 
the moon rose, but finally, at the cost of a bit of skin and a sore ear, 
squirmed my head loose.  I got to my knees and crawled off into the 
woods as quietly as I could, my hands still bound behind me.

	Once away from the glow of the sputtering fire, I stood and 
walked bent over deeper into the forest, hoping to find a stone 
outcropping to slice my hands free upon.  I had not gone very far 
before I heard a outcry behind me which I deciphered as "He's 
gone!"

	Running in the woods at night is not very intelligent, but there 
was a sliver of a moon as well as some animal trails so I headed 
downhill, hoping to find water, pushing branches aside with my face 
and shoulders.  I guess I was being pretty noisy because I soon 
heard people crashing through the underbrush behind me.  I found 
a big tree and stood beside it, trying to control my panting.  

	The men who were looking for me were steadily cursing and 
calling to each other.  Soon one was near enough that I could smell 
him.  He walked past my tree, bayonet tipped musket before him 
and I drove my head and shoulder into his back, lifted him off his 
feet and dumped him on his face.  He rolled over just as I pounced 
on him, butted him in the face and kneed him in the groin.  He 
swung at me wildly as I scrambled up and kicked him, first in the 
ribs and then in the side of the head.  That quieted him.

	I sawed my hands loose with his bayonet, made sure the man 
on the ground was never going to get up, and waited quietly on one 
knee, rubbing my wrists and gathering my wits.  

	"Hey, Joe," someone called from my left.  There was no answer 
and the voice, a bit nearer, called again for Joe.

	"Over here," I yelled, coughing as I did so.  "Found some 
tracks." I spat loudly.

	The man almost stepped on his dead comrade's body before 
he saw him, and then it was too late.  I drove my borrowed bayonet 
up through his body and the sounds he made were mostly gurgles 
as he fell, gushing blood.  I decided to go back to the camp and get 
my bayonet.  I felt naked without it.

	As soon as I stepped out into the light of the fire, I heard the 
gun being cocked.  "Put the musket down," Matthew said as he 
stepped from concealment, facing me on the other side of the 
campfire.  I did as I was told.

"Damn shame they want you alive," he said, walking toward 
me.  He raised his voice with his free hand at the side of his cheek.  
"He's here, back at camp," he yelled, and I launched myself at him.

	His pistol went off just above my head as I butted him in the 
chest.  I felt the blast singe my scalp.  Matthew staggered back, and 
I drove a good right into his face and followed with a swinging left 
that took him off his feet.  I could hear men approaching in the 
woods so I grabbed up my belt and bayonet from a tent pole and 
ran, stumbling over tents and knapsacks, back the way we had 
come.

	I was well down the verge of the moonlit road when the first 
shot boomed from behind me.  The second came soon, but unless 
one of the militiamen had a rifle, I was well out of range.  I ran until 
my lungs demanded that I stop, and then I tumbled down a small 
ravine and rested, heaving like a blown horse on a bad day.

	Two men trotted past above me, puffing as they ran.  I stayed 
off the road and made my way back to the tavern where I had 
hoped to spend the night between two hefty legs.  It was dark and 
locked.  A window gave way to my bayonet's persuasion, and I 
made my way as silently as I could up the stairs and let myself into 
the first room on the left.

	The woman sat up in bed, holding her quilt to her chest.  The 
faint moonlight revealed that her shoulders were bare. I put my 
finger to my lips and sat on the end of her bed.  She withdrew her 
feet, and I pulled off my boots.

	"What happened?" she said.

	"Nothing," I said very quietly.  "He changed his mind."

	She sat with her back against the wall, her quilt barely covering 
her full breasts, licking her lips, her dark nipples exposed and hard.

	"Have you changed yours?" I asked as I stood, unbuckled my 
heavy belt and slid my britches off.  She did not answer.  I pulled my 
shirt over my head and crawled in beside her.

	She wiggled down next me and put her hand on my chest.

	"But what happened?"  She touched my forehead and I 
winced.  "You're burned and cut.  Your hair's all frizzled up."

	I put a hand on her raised hip and kissed her gently.  "We had 
a kind of a fight," I said.  I kissed her again and her mouth opened.

	After the first time, which threatened to shake the bed apart, 
and while we lay heaving side by side, recovering, getting our minds 
to calm a bit, she asked, "Did you kill him?"

	"No," I said, "I just knocked him down."

	"That's good," she sighed, welcoming me into her again, raising 
her hips to pull me deeper and wrapping me in her strong legs.  She 
was just my size and her needs matched mine exactly. We literally 
bounced off the rope bed as I drove my ram up into her over and 
over.

	I half expected her brother to pound on the door at any 
minute, but when a half-hour or so passed without any interruption 
to our lovemaking, I relaxed and enjoyed myself without restraint.  
The big woman gasped with pleasure as we exhausted each other 
before we finally slept.

	In the early morning when I had just began to arouse her to 
accept my massive phallus, someone hammered on the door below.  
She kissed me quickly, slid her hand down along my heated shaft, 
rolled from the bed and went to the window.  I lay back and 
enjoyed the sight of her lush body, my erection tenting up the quilts, 
blood hot and bone hard.

	"Matthew," she said loudly after she pushed open the window.

	"Is he here?" the unseen voice asked.  "His horse is still out 
back."

	"Haven't seen him," she said.  "Go away."

	"Come on, Grace," said the voice.  "I'm hungry."

	"Kitchen's cold," she said.  "Cook won't be here for an hour.  
Sun's not even up."

	"Aw, Grace," came the pleading voice.

	"Damn," I said, as she found a wool robe and pulled it about 
her.   I rolled out as soon as she left the room ignoring the thing 
jutting before me, wrist-thick and heavy-veined, found my shirt and 
pulled it on, got my big knife in my hand and tip-toed down the 
stairs, barefoot and thoroughly engorged, very impatient, my hard 
cock pointed at the rafters, demanding friction and satisfaction, 
bouncing along before me like a wagon tongue.

	The only light came from the kitchen ell, and I found him there, 
tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned, smiled, before I 
slapped his face and showed him my blade, putting the tip on the 
middle of his chest.

	Grace, I'd had never asked her name, stood with a hand to 
her mouth as I sat her brother down at the small table.  "Go on and 
feed him," I said with a smile.  She handed him a cold and greasy 
meat pie and poured him some cider.  The man ate and drank, never 
taking his eyes from me, my upright cock and my bayonet.  When he 
finished, I tied him to the chair, gagged him with a bar rag and 
hustled the young woman back to her room.

	"Don't hurt him," she said, as she let her robe fall to the floor 
and came into my arms.

	"I'll do my best, but he's awful stubborn," I said, caressing her 
warm body and devouring her soft mouth.

	"Hurry," she said, pulling me toward the bed.  "I nearly came 
down there, seeing that thing jumping about under your shirt tail."

	I plunged it into her and drove her back onto the mattress 
with her legs high behind me.  We managed to get some the quilts 
atop us as we heaved and lunged together.  She squealed and came 
almost at once and then we got down to the serious lovemaking.  
Finally, as I lay beneath her, enjoying the sight of her happy face, 
eyes closed, bouncing above me, I told her I was going to take her 
brother back as my prisoner.

	"All right," she said, bending so I could lick her nipples once 
more, "yes, yes, he deserves that, tricking us.  Oh law, do it, do it."  
She came again, spasming on me and then falling into my arms, 
mouth agape, body shaking with lust and fatigue, big breasts 
mashed against me.

	The door flew open and her brother stepped into the room, 
cocked pistol in his hand, growling something.   I rolled out, reaching 
for my bayonet as the woman sat up, yelling, "No!" as he fired.  The 
ball struck just below her left eye, and I suspect she was dead 
before her head fell back on the bloody bed, arms outstretched.  
The shot would have hit me squarely in the back.  I jumped over the 
bed and drove my big blade all the way through his body, severing 
his spine as I pinned him back to the door.  He clawed and goggled 
at me before he died, and I pulled the knife loose and let him fall.

	One look showed me that the girl was dead so I covered her 
face, dressed and left quickly, regretting nothing except the 
brother's stupidity and vainglory.   

	
<1st attachment end>


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