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Message-ID: <48009asstr$1085731805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 061 Journey (MFf)
Lines: 666
Date: Fri, 28 May 2004 04:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 061.txt" begin>

Rebel 061 (Old Bill) (MFf hist)

Interesting Journey
		
The third time I had contact with the lovely and lustful Constance T, 
a week or so later, it was in the same capacity, driver and 
bodyguard.  She and the girl, Mary Beth, appeared ready to travel 
when I arrived and both greeted me with brotherly kisses.  I helped 
them up into the carriage and got their boxes stowed, and we were 
off for a long ride in the country, taking the randy girl to another 
relative to piece out her penance for having lain with her brother.

	We stopped for a meal and to rest the horses at about one that 
afternoon and shared a pleasant conversation and bit of banter.  
The girl was not looking forward to rusticating, it seemed, and was 
now fully sixteen and thought she should be allowed to be courted 
and wed.  When she looked at me and then down at my groin, she 
nearly drooled. Her lovely aunt agreed, but the girl's father did not. 
	
	By sunset we had made fully half the miles of the journey on 
good, dry roads, and I took care of the horses while the women 
went to seek beds for the night and order us some food.  When I 
entered the inn, I was immediately accosted by a militiaman with a 
musket.  He took my belt and bayonet and pushed me into a corner.  
I could not see the woman, but the girl was standing atop the largest 
table in the place and was kicking and scratching and fighting off 
attempts by several young men to tear away her clothing.  Not much 
of her skirt was left and one sleeve of her frilly blouse had 
disappeared.

	The men were laughing and enjoying themselves, drinking 
beer and prolonging the game, out of high spirits I assumed, since 
the end would be the same I was sure, gang rape upon the big table 
top.  Then, from above, came a crash and a scream, a man's full-
throated scream, and tumbling down the steps came a half-clothed 
male body, all arms and legs.  The boy guarding me looked away, 
and I jumped him, took his weapon and clubbed him senseless.  I 
quickly fixed my big bayonet on his musket and charged into the 
mob around the table that had turned to look at the bent body at 
the foot of the stairs.

	"Come here, Beth," I called and the girl jumped from the table 
and hurried to my side, barely clothed and very stimulating in her 
youthfully bulbous way, everything jiggling, her eyes very big.  The 
men spun about and I smiled at them, moving the muzzle of my gun 
from side to side.  "Who's the first dead hero?" I asked.

	ÔNaw," one of the bigger ones said, "we was jus' funnin'."

	"We'll take ole Joe over there and be gone," said another.  
"No harm done."

	"Constance!" I yelled and she pattered down the stairs, lifted 
her hem and smoothly jumped over the huddled man at the foot.  
She crossed the room, pulling her disordered clothes together, and 
stood beside the girl.  She pushed back her hair and took the girl's 
hand, completely under control.

	"You all right?" I asked her as two of the men got the fellow 
on the steps to his feet.

	She nodded, breathing hard and also looking very desirable.

	"What did you hit him with?" I asked.

	"Oil lamp," she said.  "Made a mess."

	By then they were leaving, straggling out the front door and 
dragging two half-conscious men with them.

	"Safe for us to stay?" I asked the innkeeper.

	"Probably," he said.  "They's camped `bout five miles off, 
north a'here."

	Constance decided Beth's torn clothes would not do, and I 
fetched in a bag for the girl.  She changed into an ordinary and, for 
her, very drab dress which stretched to conceal her abundant 
charms.  We calmed ourselves with some ale, had a decent meal and 
went off to our rented room, the only one the place had, up under 
the eaves with an enormous bed and a tiny window.

	There was a certain amount of sexual tension in the air as the 
women disrobed, and I sat on the room's only chair to watch, legs 
crossed to conceal my growing interest.  "Think I'll bunk out in the 
carriage," I said.  "Might live longer."

	They both ignored me as they peeled off stockings and got 
down to nothing but frilly shifts, their corsets discarded.

	"Come, you hairy villain," Constance said.  "What do you 
think the two of us having been talking about all day?  I'm first; she 
gets second and third, and I'll take your fourth effort if there is one 
in you.  After that," she smiled "if you survive, it's your choice and 
every man for him or herself.  As they say, devil take the hindmost."

	"And in the morning?" I asked, setting aside my heavy belt 
and bayonet, more than willing to give it a try.

	"We'll reverse it.  Beth is first, and you must be kind to her; let 
her hold you off somehow.  Don't hurt her."  Constance licked her 
lips and the girl lay back and pulled covers to her shoulders, eyes 
alight, whole body wiggling.

	As I finished pulling my boots off, I heard a stair tread creak, 
found my big knife and went to the flimsy door.  Another board, a 
bit closer, groaned, and I yanked open the door and stepped to the 
head of the stairs.

	"I'm gonna kill `er," said the man facing me, a scabbed cut over 
his swollen right eye.  Behind him came two of the younger 
militiamen with muskets.

	"No, you're not," I told him.  "You are going to die right there 
with your guts in your hands."

	"She hit me," he whined and then he turned, ducked and 
yelled, "Shoot `im, boys.  You kin have the girl."  The men raised 
their guns and I jumped right at them.  The four of us went back 
down the steps with a terrific racket, turning over twice, and by the 
time we untangled the man Constance had beaten off with a lamp 
was very dead and one of the younger men was going to have to 
learn to do things left-handed for a while.  I disarmed the other one 
and had him haul his dead friend away.  I stood at the doorway and 
watched them ride off, thoroughly tumescent.

	"That was right loud," said the innkeeper behind me.  He was 
standing beside his bar with a shotgun in his hands.  "I was kind 
a'busy when they come in," he said, looking sheepish.  I wondered if 
his slovenly waitress was a live-in servant.

	We exchanged smiles.

	I went back up the steps and got out of my britches, hoping 
for a good night's sleep after I did my duty for the women.  My 
shaft was excited and hard, jumping up and hiding under my shirt, 
aroused by the fight, up well above the horizontal.

	"What happened?" Constance asked, sitting on the side of the 
bed and loosely braiding her long hair as I approached her.

	I told her, briefly, and then spread her legs, tossed her hem up 
into her lap, stroked her damp slit, and walked my thick rod right 
into her juicy quim while I held her wide buttocks and bent my back. 
High beds were made for such work. We both watched it disappear 
like a rammer into a cannon mouth, and then I held her hips while 
she clung to me for a bit as I dove in repeatedly, deeper and deeper, 
and then she sighed and fell back on the bed after reaching her first 
peak of body-shaking passion.  She lifted her legs up on my chest, 
and I rogered on until I was sure she was satisfied.  She was limp, 
inert, moaning.  Then I pulled it out, wiped it on my shirttail and 
went to the other side of the bed and rolled in next to the wide-
awake girl who had watched her aunt's swiving wide-eyed.

	"Did I hear you say you killed a man?" she asked after we 
kissed.

	"Um," I said, "one died.  I'm not exactly sure how."

	"Three of them?" she asked, squirming to get her shift over 
her head.

	"Yep," I said, helping her and licking her nipples as I did.

	"Busy day," she said, lying back and opening her arms and 
legs.

	"Just getting started," I said, "according to you two."

	"It's so thick," she gasped as I entered her very slowly, "so 
thick, so thick."  She arched up, lifting her hips from the bed as I 
drove it deeper, digging in my toes, driving it in, only inward, 
absorbing the recoil and smiling down at her stricken face.  Her legs 
wrapped me in, and we heaved together until she came, gasping out 
her pleasure and humping like a wild thing while I simply held it in 
place, letting her do the work and running the sevens table through 
my head.

	"That was two," I told her when she subsided with a small 
whinny, "now we move right along to number three." I still had not 
come and was right proud of my fortitude and restraint as well as 
my rigidly engorged stiffness.  My goal was to get back into 
Constance's grip and into her wonderful body with most of my 
initial erection intact and my stones brimming.

	The girl snorted and I had her on her side, her eyes clamped 
closed, and rogered her hard until she howled out with joy despite 
having her mouth firmly against mine.  When she gulped and 
stopped jumping on the end of my pike, I slid it from her and let her 
fall, seemingly exhausted, face buried in soft pillows.  I patted her 
round rump, self-satisfied, my prod jutting straight up under the 
quilts, my hand clamped hard about its base, forcing back my sperm.  
I trembled and bit my lip, but held it back, squeezing until I felt it 
relax.

	Then I turned the other way and found Constance and pulled 
her to me.

	"Show off," she said after we kissed.

	"You two set up a real test," I whispered.

	"I wasn't worried," she said, taking hold of my soggy member 
and giving it a few firm strokes.  It was still long and hot, but a bit 
fatigued.  She traced the thick vein along its base and it quivered 
when she reached its head.  I had come awful close to jetting out a 
rope or two in the youngster but managed to somehow hold it off, 
gritting my teeth and thinking of other things.  "Relax," the woman 
said, swinging a leg across mine and mounting my thighs.  I held my 
root at its hairy base.  It stood up proudly, quivering.  She wiggled 
forward, rose and slid her wonderful body down it, taking it slowly 
and fully into her, her eyes never leaving mine until it was sunk to 
the very hilt.  Then she smiled, leaning back until her hair was 
between my knees and then rose up and showed me her clenched 
teeth.

	I do not even remember falling asleep that night, but I do recall 
awaking because there was a man with a musket standing at the 
foot of the bed, pointing his weapon right at me, poking my feet.  
My usual morning erection quickly faded.

	"Get out of there, hoss," he said to me, waking both women 
as he did.  "Ain' right you t'have two wimmen, and we ain' got 
none."

	I turned my head and found three more smiling militiamen 
putting their weapons aside and beginning to work at getting their 
britches open.  I felt, rather than saw, Constance reach beneath the 
covers and start to bring her small pistol from its hiding place 
beneath her pillow.

	"You boys are making a big mistake," I said, sitting up and 
pushing the girl toward the edge of the bed with my knee.

	"Jes' shut up and roll out," said the man with the musket, 
jabbing it toward me.  I was glad he did not have a bayonet on the 
thing.  "Don' want'a fuck these here stupid bitches in a bloody bed."

	I shoved Mary Beth to the floor, grabbed my big knife off the 
bedpost, heard the pistol fire behind me, and launched myself across 
the wide bed howling something or other.

	The three men soon cowered in the corner, begging me not to 
kill them after I sliced one's arm open and nicked another in the belly 
and the third in the cheek.  Their leader had dropped his musket 
onto the bed and was now on his knees, holding his hands to his 
stomach where a small hole was gushing blood.

	"If you get him to a doctor," I told the men, "he might live, but 
I doubt it."  I made them leave their weapons and carry the bleeding 
man out.  We heard his toes bumping down the steps.  Constance 
sat up in the bed, her luscious breasts jutting out, reloading her tiny 
pistol with great care, and the girl knelt at the side of the bed, 
gawking at her and at me.

	I looked past the grim-faced Constance and smiled at the 
youngster, wolfishly I suspect.  "You want to be first this morning?" 
I asked. "I think it's your turn." My mast had begun rising already, 
filling with excited blood.

	She shook her head.  "I've had enough to last me till 
Christmas," she said.

	"Be right with you," the smiling woman said, reseating her 
small ramrod and laying her weapon on the floor.  She fell to her 
back, spread her legs, and flipped back the covers as the girl climbed 
in on the other side, wide-eyed.  My inflamed member rose and 
throbbed until it was rigid and red-headed, perhaps not as it had 
been but nearly, sufficient for the work ahead and pointed at the 
ceiling.

	I got Constance's legs on my shoulders and brought my 
morning gift from the gods of lust to her deep and sinuous passage.  
She sobbed and groaned as we worked hard to get it seated and 
then, once it was in her, we found a pace we liked and rogered each 
other until we both had come twice, shaking the roof shingles, and 
we were still not satisfied.

	We lay gasping in each other's arms, wondering if we could 
find the energy to couple just one more time.  The girl tapped my 
shoulder.

	"I can smell breakfast," she said.

	We traveled on that day, a long and dull trip through heavy 
woods, and arrived at our destination about sunset, having stopped 
only once out of consideration of the horses.

	The girl was welcomed by another aunt and uncle, and I 
noticed that there were three young men in the family who feasted 
on the newcomer's body with their eyes.  I suspected there would 
soon be the devil to pay.  We slept, all three of us as far as I know, 
celibately that evening, ate well in the morning, and began our 
return trip with Mrs. T-- sitting beside me on the driver's seat.  We 
talked of nothings, speculated on how long it would take Beth to 
bed all three of her cousins, had a fine meal and tarried in mid-
afternoon after fording a pleasant stream.

	The horses drank and we have a short but very satisfying 
session in the carriage which ended when we both became aware of 
the sing-song creak of the springs beneath our surging bodies and 
pulled away from each other, laughing.  The woman napped and I 
drove on to stop at a different inn, a much bigger one than we had 
visited on our trip west.

	She hired us a room and ordered us a big meal and a bottle of 
wine.  We ate in leisurely fashion, emptied the bottle and hurried off 
to our feather bed where she proved to be very inventive and 
nearly insatiable.  We slept, tangled together and both hoping the 
morning would bring us another chance for sweaty pleasure.

	I awoke in the pink-gray of pre-dawn, fiercely engorged but 
also aware of untoward noises in the tavern below and in the yard 
outside.  I lay quietly with my bulging bag of stones in my hand and 
tried to figure out what was going on as my cock tried to call 
attention to itself.  Then there was a booming shot that popped open 
the eyes of the lovely woman lying beside me.  She looked from my 
monstrous erection to my face and wrinkled her forehead.

	"What's going on?" she asked, reaching out and stroking the 
blood-hot post that quivered above my belly, its head the color of a 
crabapple in the gloom, its skin stretched to the breaking point.

	"Better go look," I said, regretfully.

	She bent and kissed my huge ram's crimson head, and I rolled 
out and found my britches and somehow managed to get the rigid 
thing buttoned into them.  I buckled on my belt and bayonet and 
pulled my shirt over my head.  I stepped out the door and was met 
my two armed and uniformed men, Canadians I guessed from their 
dress and floppy hats, junior officers and looking very pleased with 
themselves.

	They pushed me back into our room and while one held me at 
pistol point, the other flipped back and covers, smacked his lips and 
said, "Prime."

	I hoped Constance would not go for her pistol at that moment 
as she lay twisted, one hand to her groin and the other arm across 
her ample breasts.  He tossed the quilts back up over the naked 
woman and turned with a smile.  "Think we'll breakfast right here, 
Charles," he said.  "Take that big rustic out to the shed and tie him 
up if he behaves or shoot him if her does not.  Then get us some 
food up here and join me in what I am sure will be a feast.  A bottle 
would be pleasant."  He stuck his pistol in his belt and turned his 
back to Constance.  I held her eyes and shook my head.  She 
nodded and lay back, looking relaxed.

	The inn was filled with Canadians; perhaps a score of them, 
and the fireplace was starting to roar.  My captor hurried me out 
toward the smokehouse, had me open the door and kicked me 
inside.  Then he put a stout peg in the latch and ran back toward the 
house as I could see though chinks in the thick door.  When I was 
sure he was out of sight, I gave the door two hard kicks with my 
bare foot and the second broke the peg and set me free.  There is 
absolutely nothing like a naked woman to make men careless.

	I hurried to the kitchen ell, climbed the rose lattice, ignoring 
the thorns, scrambled up the slanting roof and raised the only 
window I could reach.  I let myself into a big closet and then all but 
ran out into the hall, just in time to meet the man who had taken me 
to the outbuilding as he mounted the steps with some meat pies in 
his hands and a stoneware bottle of whisky under his arm.  I 
knocked the food from him, got his arm up into his back and ran him 
headfirst into the wall.  He dropped his bottle and it bounced as he 
slumped, unconscious.  I dragged him into the closet and hurried 
down the hall with the bottle in my hand, kicked open the door and 
found Constance and the Canadian wrestling on the bed for control 
of her small pistol.  He was somewhat handicapped by having his 
britches tangled around his knees, and she was spitting and clawing 
when she saw me enter.

	I pulled him off of her by his shirt collar and neckcloth, drove a 
fist into his gut and then bashed his head against the doorframe until 
his eyes rolled back and he slid to the floor.

	"Where have you been?" the woman asked, rolling out of bed 
and finding her shift.  "Having a few?"

	"Jolly fellows, these Canucks," I said, strapping on my belt and 
bayonet.  I found the officer's pistol and checked its priming.  
"There's one I should see to." I pulled on my boots.

	The man on the closet floor was still out cold so I dragged him 
back to our room where we tied and gagged both of them with 
strips torn from their shirts and then ate their food and drank some 
of their corn whisky.

	ÔNow what?" the woman asked, as the man she had been 
fighting revived, shaking his head.  His cheek showed three long, 
red stripes where she had clawed him.

	"I was thinking how unhappy Madam Von R-- would be if we 
abandoned her rig and her grays."

	"Um," Constance said, her mouth full of meat pie.  She kicked 
the Canadian captain with the pointed toe of her fancy boot.  "What 
about these two."

	I pulled my bayonet and stropped it on the sole of my boot.  "I 
could cut their throats."

	"Think of the mess," she said, taking the bottle and gulping 
down some raw alcohol.  Her eyes widened.

	I nodded.  "Did you two have horses?" I asked the man 
sitting with his arms bound behind him and his knotted neckcloth in 
his mouth.

	He nodded.

	"We could borrow their mounts and ride out of here," I said.  
I booted the captain to get his attention.  "Will you promise not to 
take our team and carriage if we don't make you eat you ballocks or 
carve out your lieutenant's gizzard?"

	He nodded vigorously, looking at my big knife.

	"Think we can trust them?" I asked the woman.

	"Both of them?" she said, suppressing a smile.

	"Um," I said, pouring down some more whisky; it was awful 
stuff.

	"Doubt it. Why don't you kill one, show we're serious."

	"Which one?"

	"Him," she said pointing at the captain.  "He thought he was 
going to rape me."

	"Can't blame him for that," I said.

	She hit me in the upper arm, hard.

	"Let's go," I said.

	"Wait, I can't ride like this, astride I mean."

	I bent and yanked off the captain's boots and then got his 
britches the rest of the way off of him.  "His coat's over there," I 
said, pointing as the woman quickly doffed her skirt and got the 
white breeches up over her hips, stuffing in her shift.  She pulled on 
his boots, took them off, yanked the man's stockings from his feet, 
balled them up and stuffed them in the boot's toes and tried again.

	ÔGentlemen," Constance said, getting to her feet and 
shrugging into the green jacket.  "Perhaps another time."  She 
wrapped her shoes in her dress and went out the door, seemingly at 
ease.

	We went through the closet, out the window, down the shed 
roof and to the stable, unchallenged, mounted the officer's horses 
and left as quickly as we could, putting a couple of miles between us 
and the inn before we stopped to rest our tired mounts and get our 
breath.  She came into my arms and we hugged each other.

	"I was awful glad to see you," she said.

	"What happened?" I asked the top of her curly head while I 
kneaded her butt and ground my hardening spear into her.

	"Misfired," she said.  "Never done that before.  He was going 
to take me with his boots on, the mangy cur."

	"You're a great temptation," I told her.

	An hour or so later we found a small mill and stopped to buy 
some food.  The miller and his wife welcomed us like long lost kin 
and invited us to spend the night, pointing out that a storm was 
obviously coming.  They did not seem to even notice how the 
woman was dressed.  Constance looked at me and raised an 
eyebrow.

	"We would be happy to," I said as the promised rain began.

	High above the grinding floor, where bags of milled grain 
were stacked, was a neat little alcove under the eaves with its own 
small window.  Trying not to look too eager, we feigned our fatigue, 
climbed the ladder, helped each other undress and joined our bodies 
on some coarse sacking and a mattress of corn shucks.

	After I had come, gritting my teeth to keep from crying out, 
she forced me to roll us over, and she lay upon my body with my 
prod a half-foot deep in her, put her fists on my chest and smiled at 
me in the dim light of the scudding moon.

	ÔI never doubted you would rescue me," she whispered.  The 
miller and his family had their own small cottage attached to the side 
of the mill, and I was sure we could not be heard.

	"After I failed you on that ship, let them screw you?"  I 
wiggled a bit, and my prod jumped and shivered.

	"Only two of them got to me." She rocked her hips from side 
to side.  "The captain and that man you . . ." She stopped with a 
shiver.

	"At least we know the girl's happy."

	"Oh, you can be sure of that," she said, resting her head on 
my chest.  "Those poor boys."  She giggled.

	"It has been right exciting," I said. "This trip, I mean."

	"I'd prefer dullness, dullness and a good man."

	"I know a few," I said, flexing the thing to see if it still worked.

	She squealed and bounced.  "I wish you'd introduce me to 
one."

	"You're too rich," I said.  "We soldiers are a poor lot."

	"That you are," she said, pushing herself upright, getting her 
knees by my ribs and her hands on my stomach, rocking from side 
to side and looking impatient.  "Ready?"

	"I doubt it," I said, holding her hips.

	She began, rising and falling on my upright pole, her eyes 
closed and chin lifted.  She shuddered and came almost at once but 
hardly missed a beat, and I just lay there and let her ride me until 
she could do no more and slid back down, whimpering and sobbing 
with pleasure.

	We lay quietly together again, still firmly joined as fluids 
gushed from her body and soaked my groin and scrotum.  

	"Think those Canada boys will keep their word?" I asked, 
petting her sweaty back.

	ÔUm hm," she said, "why wouldn't they?"

	ÔHorses," I said, "the madam's horses."

	"I'll repay her if they are lost."

	"I'll go back for them soon as I get you home," I said.

	"You ready to sleep?" She stretched, exciting me 
unintentionally.

	I rolled her over, lifted her knees toward her chest and gave 
her perhaps a hundred good reasons not to sleep just then.  She 
inhaled sharply and I believe she was about to scream as she felt my 
root swelling and ready to climax.  I covered her mouth with mine 
and sank my tongue into her as I exploded, and exploded, and 
exploded yet again, shaking both of us and rattling the boards of 
the loft.

	Then we slept.

	An owl hooted and I awoke and wondered where in the 
world I was.  I nearly rolled over and fell fifteen feet to the 
gristmill's floor, but the woman grabbed me as I moved.

	"Morning," she said, cleared her throat, and said it again.

	I crawled over and kissed her, spread her legs with my knees 
and placed the head of my outsized pike between her nether lips, up 
on my elbows.  She reached down with both hands and grabbed it.

	"Morning," I said, taking a deep breath and feeling very 
pleased to be where I was, rocking my hips from side to side, ready 
to impale her.

	She rubbed the fat head of my rigid member in and out and up 
and down her slit until she was satisfied that she was ready, then 
she pulled me into her.  I dug in my toes between two of the loose 
floorboards and pushed.  In it popped.

	She did scream then, and outside our small window there was 
a sudden flurry of wings.  "Oh," she gasped, "my," she groaned, 
"lord," she cried.  Deeper and deeper I plunged, filling her up.

	She made some very odd noises, arched her back, closed her 
eyes, and beat on my chest and shoulders.  I pulled the folded 
clothes under her rump and she lifted her legs and wrapped them 
about me.

	"By damn," she gasped.  "It's like having one of the mile posts 
in me.  I can't . . ." and "Yaaah," she screamed again.

	"Not so loud," I said, kissing her gently as I lifted her from the 
floor on my extended pike and finally seated it to the very hilt, 
striking bone.

	Beneath me, she made a strange noise and shuddered.  I 
waited a bit, hoping she might get used to having such a cudgel in 
her, but my inflamed member was far from patient, and I soon had 
to start providing some friction.  I backed it out until the firm-edged 
head was barely in her and then slowly sank it again, and then 
again, and still a third time.

	Tears came to her eyes and she bit her lower lip as she looked 
up at me in obvious fear.  "You'll tear me apart," she moaned, 
"please, please."

	I wriggled it out of her, reaching down between us to pull the 
thing free, and she sighed and whimpered. She rolled over to her 
elbows and knees, lifted her wide hips and spread her legs.  I 
brought it to her, hot as a smithy's poker, and sank it into her as 
gently as I could.

	"Better," she mumbled, "much better."  She lifted her head as I 
held her hips and it continued to ram into her spreading passage.  I 
turned off my head, braced my toes and enjoyed myself.  Soon she 
began heaving her hips back at me, in time with my long thrusts, and 
before long we were gasping out our pleasure together, both of us 
amazed at how long and hard we had worked to achieve our 
multiple orgasms.

	"By damn, Sir," she sobbed, lying athwart my body and licking 
at my spent member.  "You are a merciless bastard, a selfish pig, an 
insensible bull, a mad stallion."

	I patted her back, sitting up and wishing I had some tobacco.

	"You really do not care, do you?" she asked after kissing my 
limp prick's soft head.

	I shook my head, incapable of more.

	We breakfasted with the miller and his family, getting some 
odd looks once in a while, gave them a stack of shillings borrowed 
from the Canadian officers, and were on our way as the sun rose 
above the treeline.

	Once at her home, she insisted on bathing and then on bathing 
me. Then she fed me and took me to her bed.  She exhausted me 
and when I was fully spent and nearly asleep, she held my long, soft 
tool and squeezed.  "In the morning," she said firmly, emphasizing 
her words with her fingernails, "I want you to visit the privy before 
you wake me, understand, before you do anything else."

	I probably laughed for she slapped me pretty hard and 
twisted my pintle.  "I'm still sore," she said.

	I laughed and she hit me again.  Then we slept.

	It was three days later before I got around to going to fetch 
the madam's carriage.  In it I found a note from the Canadians, 
praising the woman's beauty and courage and damning me to hell.  
The grays had been well cared for, I was happy to see, and we 
made a quick trip home.
	





<1st attachment end>


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