Message-ID: <47745asstr$1084047001@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: <050820041225.584.409CD1A7000D180F000002482200745672FFCD9393969D9B93@comcast.net> X-Authenticated-Sender: b2xkYmlsbDJAY29tY2FzdC5uZXQ= X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 08 May 2004 12:25:12 +0000 Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 036 (MF hist) Lines: 373 Date: Sat, 8 May 2004 16:10:01 -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/Year2004/47745> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: hoisingr, dennyw <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> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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