Chapter 1: Meet Madam Von R

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Historical, Violent, .

Desc: Historical Sex Story: Chapter 1: Meet Madam Von R - Follows the Rebel's activities in New York in support of one of Washington's spy rings

Madam Von R-- was a very wealthy and extremely helpful patriot during all five years of the generally-welcomed British occupation of New York City. I knew her only briefly at the beginning of her service to the country, just for a couple of years before we went south, but I was happy to have known her at all. She knew John Foster, might have been some kin to him, so got me assigned to her for a month at a time in 1778-79.

She was a bright, diminutive woman with a stately air, a heart of oak and a will of iron. She wore fine, dark clothes of the previous generation and tall, powered wigs that were her hallmark and pride. She had survived three husbands; a ship builder, a merchant and a lawyer, borne a number of children, many of whom were now highly placed Tories, and had inherited a good deal of real-estate inside the city walls, on Long Island and up along the Hudson. She had dozens of relatives, many of them handsome young women who loved and admired her. When I knew her, she was, I would guess, about fifty years of age, perhaps more. And she survived the war, a real accomplishment considering how dangerously she lived. If I had been handing out medals, she certainly would have been first in line, right up there with Anna Strong of Setuaket and the woman known only as "355."

As part of my off-and-on spying activities, I often lived in her basement and prowled the docks and streets during the curfew hours, seeking information and informants, but she provided more useful knowledge of British intentions from her soirees and salons than I ever wormed out of tipsy soldiers, tired harlots or drunken sailors. I believe that every field grade officer in the British and German forces regularly visited her home, paid court to her fresh young nieces and their stylish and complaisant friends and discussed the government's problems and military plans openly in her drawing room and at her long dining table. A great number of them, it was said, also visited several soft and friendly beds in that mansion. The madam attracted or recruited many fashionable and talented females, all of whom seemed to possess fine memories and a willingness to fall on their backs for talkative Brits. One that I had heard stories about was as luscious a woman as anyone had ever seen, a robust young matron called Margo who was said to be almost insatiable. I was eager to find out if that was so.

When I met Madam Von R-- for the first time, she lifted her eyeglasses on their long stem and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I'm not sure we can hide anyone as big as this," she said to my captain's commanding officer, a major who was some sort of cousin or nephew. "It would be like concealing an elephant in a bushel basket." However they made a space for me under the cellar stairs that was quite comfortable, and I soon found that there were several members of her household staff with a serious need for male companionship from time to time. I seldom slept alone except by choice, but I pursued the plump Margo without success due, mainly, to my schedule which involved very long nights and sleeping until noon many days.

Late one evening or early in the morning as I crept back to my cot and peeled off my soft and comfortable boots, I heard footsteps on the stairs that led up to the pantry. "Hist," a female voice whispered as I took off my britches, "is that you?"

I stood, barefoot and breechesless and welcomed a nightshirted young lady to my triangular cubicle. Her long hair hung almost to her waist and she held a candle before her. She raised her flickering light, looked me over, glanced at the narrow bed, smiled and blew out her taper. A small, high window gave us a tiny bit of moonlight, and in a short time, our eyes adjusted.

"I've heard the maids a'talking," she said with a musical lilt that might have suggested Ireland. She stepped where I could touch her and feel her warmth. "They say you can satisfy a girl that needs a man, that you can do it properly and in a short time if need be. I must say, you're surely big enough for the task. I'm the madam's goddaughter, Louisa May. We haven't met." She made a mock curtsey to me. She was a very pretty young one, slim and petite with a happy smile and sparkling eyes, and she smelled good which made me think of my own condition.

"Pleased," I said "But I've just come in from an evening of street tramping, tobacco smoking and liquor drinking so I likely smell something awful, and I'm tired out and doubt that I'm in any shape to do any woman much benefit tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, later in the day, before your supper." I smiled down at her and felt myself becoming aroused.

"Oh," she said, pouting very prettily in the gloom. She untied her neck bow and peeled her night dress from her narrow shoulders. It slid to her elbows revealing a firm, upright pair of blue-veined white globes with high pink tips that looked slightly away from each other. "My husband is far away, in the south seeking arms from the Spanish. He's been gone two whole months. Couldn't you try? I have done my best but I can't, well," she sniffed, "I can't satisfy myself. It's not the same, even when I do succeed." She had the odd habit of raising her voice at the end of most of her sentences, making them sound like questions.

"However," I continued, reaching out for her boobies, caressing their smooth undersides and then weighing them in my palms, "if you can overlook my filthy state, I will do my best to meet your needs and try not to get you dirty." I could hardly wait to get at her. Her body seemed to glow with good health and emanate sexual desire. She was truly juicy, panting to be had, squirming in my hands, rubbing her thighs together, her mouth agape, nipples extending as I rubbed them with my thumbs.

"Perhaps just a sample this morning, a small taste then, until we can do better at another time, a more propitious time," she whispered, dropping her arms and allowing her gown to slip to the floor after it paused at her hips and well-rounded butt. Her long, yellow tresses rested on her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Her waist was high and the full curve of her hips very long. She took a deep and wonderful breath, placing her hands behind her and pushing her soft belly out at me, moving her small muff from side to side.

"Yes" I said, kicking a stool toward her, "good idea, a small sample. I haven't shaved for a week, miss, and I really don't think you want to bed such a large and smelly body as mine, not just now. I appreciate the sentiment, and I'll surely put you on the list once I'm more presentable."

She smiled and stepped carefully up on the milking stool which brought her eyes almost to my level. I moved forward and grasped her firm buttocks and caressed them and her smooth legs. I wondered how young she was. She moaned nicely under my kneading. "Oh, you are prickly," she said, touching my cheek, and then laughed at her own joke as my shirt tail tented out before me.

I went down on one knee, held her gently, stroking her legs, tried not to rub her soft skin with my bearded face, and licked at her pouting, trembling lips, probing and pressing them apart with my fingers. I pushed my tongue deeply into her and licked upward. Her breathing became very rapid indeed, and she closed her eyes with her hands full of my hair. I explored with my tongue until I found her tiny prick and then paid homage to it until she gasped, liquefied and moaned, my big hands on her pelvis with my thumbs holding her wide open. Then I stood carefully, moving my mouth up to her breasts, held down my striving member and let it slowly push up into her well-prepared passage. I pulled her legs above my hips one by one as got my prod well and very tightly lodged, the ridged head well inside her inner lips. She trembled and sucked in air. I locked my wrists in the small of her back and said, "Now lean back and take a deep breath." She did and I impaled her fully. She gasped and jumped as if she had been shocked, shuddering again and again as she sank onto the thick root.

She exhaled loudly, "Hahh, ahh, ahh," and her body quivered all over. She kicked me steadily as I enjoyed her, pounding the back of my thighs with her heels, digging her fingernails into my back. "Oh, oh, oh," she sighed. She was eager and active, writhing and groaning, humping me steadily. She rose, ground against me with her head at my shoulder, mouth open, spasmed over and over, gushing fluids, then threw her head back, her tongue flopping in her mouth and her body bucking to and fro like a wild horse on a short tether. I felt her legs peeling away from me, and I let her down to the stool, with my prematurely freed cock enjoying the feel of her body as I did so, rubbing at her navel and then up toward her warm breasts. I doubt that we had been joined for five minutes. It had been barely a taste but a fine and inviting one that left me wanting much more.

I stepped back and stood a bit sideways to her, and she got her breathing under control with her head on my chest and my arm about her, patting her rump. I dumped her gown over her head and she shook it down her slim body and tied the ribbon at her throat without taking her eyes from my face. She rose on her toes, kissed my stubbled cheek sweetly and left with her dark candle, breathing deeply. I tumbled into bed, grabbed my cock and slept like a stone.

A few hours later, with the sun fully abroad in the land, I awoke to the usual noises in the house and the tap of shoes on the rude stairs above my head. I wondered if I had dreamed of the longhaired girl in the white nightgown as the same girl, now fully dressed, brushed aside my blanket-door and stepped into my small, bare room, looking serious.

"Good morning, sir," she said, while I lay there dumbfounded and thoroughly erect, "I believe I did you a disservice last night, earlier, you know, early this morning. In fact, I can see I did." She quickly stepped out of her stiff skirt and ruffled petticoat, tossed aside her fancy bodice as though it were but a trifle, pulled my blanket down, swung a leg over me as if she was mounting a wide-bodied horse and sat on my thighs, smiling, still wearing her shoes and stockings as well as her lacy shift and very narrow, tight-laced stays, her long hair was combed and dressed for the day and her round breasts pushed up and close together by her fancy, tightly laced corset.

I slid my hands under her shift, admired her slim body and the bulging breasts above her lace and stay strings and said, "Did you? I can't recall."

"Um," she said, bending to kiss my root's trembling head briefly. "I got what I wanted without any consideration of your needs, very selfish of me. You were very good, even if you were tuckered out, very strong and considerate." She licked her lips and held my gaze while I petted her hard, round bottom. She swallowed and then rose on her knees, put her hands down on my shoulders and let her round breasts hang in my face. Then she lowered herself very slowly, biting her lower lip. I held my huge lance at the hairy base and she took it in, wiggling her hips right and left as she did. It took some effort and that showed on her pretty face. It was like putting a ten-pound ham in a skin meant for a five-pound sausage.

"Oh my," she gasped, shaking her head and drooling a bit, "I thought all men were about the same, but," she stopped and shook, sucking in air. I held her gently at the hips and thighs as my disappearing ram exercised itself within her. She changed her hands' position to my stomach, sat up straighter. She gasped loudly, put her hands behind her head and turned her body right and left, heaving and squirming as she attempted to settle herself in the saddle. She squealed and then fell on my chest, her arms limp and palms turned up at my sides. "Can't believe it," she moaned. "I'm ruined. I can't do it; it's just too much, too much. It just won't go in."

We lay together for some time, about halfway joined, my rod perhaps a hand deep, and remained entertained observers of our bodies' passionate wants while I petted her back, and then after fifteen or twenty minutes of probes, jumps and throbs, she roused herself, panting when I had nearly all of my stake in her. "Please," she said, stretching up to take my mouth briefly, "be gentle." I was for a long time, finally fully lodging my mighty pole fully within her, but she became more demanding after that and at length found herself under me, kicking her legs wildly, crying out, "Please, please, please," until I was done and kissed her cheek. Her hair was a mess, but she was smiling and gasping.

We sat beside each other on the edge of my bed, proud and satisfied, needing nothing more from each other. "That ought to hold me until Christmas," the girl said, laughing.

"You're awful strong for your size," I told her, patting her back and nibbling her ear.

"So are you," she said and she laughed, stood on trembling legs, dressed carefully and left, still breathing hard and trying to push her hair into shape.

I got some breakfast and went back to bed. And that was the night I fell in among thieves, as they say, so it is a good thing I got so thoroughly laid.

Early the next morning I was in a fancy house near the docks when I heard a loud voice asking, "Who the hell is it that's so damn interested in the Royal Navy?"

I could not hear the answer, but I knew I had not been careful enough somewhere along the line. I headed for the back door, pulling my big bayonet from its scabbard as I moved. I eased the door open and found two Royal Marines with muskets awaiting me. I scurried back upstairs, entered the first room with a light showing and found myself facing a large caliber pistol in a steady hand. Four men sat at a round table playing cards under a shaded lamp while a mulatto woman stood at the window, looking surprised, her flimsy robe open to show her hard breasts and strong body.

"Closed game?" I asked as the man with the pistol raised an eyebrow.

"Who the hell are you?" he said.

"Man looking to hide in plain sight," I told him, pulling out a chair and pushing some loose coins in front of me as feet pounded on the carpeted stairs. The man sat and his pistol disappeared. The dark woman pulled her robe closed and answered the thuds on the door panel.

In stepped a naval officer, all braid and bluster. I slouched and kept my back to him. "We're looking for a man, common dressed, big man, seen in the front room a few minutes ago."

The man whose pistol I had studied stood. "Sorry sir," he said, "we've been here since sundown. Ask Cindy there if we ain't. She knows us."

The girl evidently nodded or smiled or somehow vouched for us and the door closed. I pushed my borrowed coins back to their owner. "Got any a'yer own?" he said with a smile. I produced my purse and jangled it in my palm.

It was a high stakes game with one strange twist, every time the deal got back to the banker, we played a "Cindy" hand and the winner not only got the pot, he got a turn with the lissome young lady on a couch along the far side of the room. We had plenty to drink, a bit to eat, and some very quiet and serious card playing. When one of the men was being served by the tea-colored whore, we hardly heard his grunts for our concentration. Despite her abilities, or perhaps because of them, the winner seldom missed more than one deal and once, when the same man won twice in a row, he made an odd face before he went to take his winning opportunity.

I won and lost, lost and won, but never took the Cindy hand until the sun was starting to rise. By then there were only three of us left, but the pots had grown with doubled bets and pushes until perhaps ten pounds or more was on the table and available for the turn of a single card. I almost whooped when my missing ace showed up, raked in my pile and stood, working on my waist buttons.

"Wait," said the dealer. "We all chipped in for her, a quid."

I said, "Help yourself," gesturing at my winnings and shook the girl awake.

"Damn," she said, "Hoped you'd never win, big as you is." She laid me down, pulled my britches to my knees, washed my privates gently but thoroughly, and got me pumping in quick march time. She was getting off of me before I realized that I had come. "That there's some mighty tool y'got," she said as I buttoned up and got back to the table.

The game was soon over, the players left, groggy and satisfied and the dealer riffled the cards and gestured me to a chair.

"Redcoats're interested in you," he said. It was not a question. I nodded and watched his nimble fingers manipulate the cards.

"Bit nosy, are you?" He lifted an eyebrow and I nodded again.

"What they pay me for," I said.


"Continental Congress."

"You hiring?"

"Pay for information, sometimes," I said.

"All right," he said. "How 'bout a list of the major ships, their compliments, commanding officers, number of guns, that sort of thing?"

"Think we got most of that."

He pondered and rubbed his chin. "Cornwallis's cipher?"

"The odd-shaped one?" I drew it in the air.

"No, this is like two circles of different sizes."

"Ten pounds," I said.

"Twenty," he said.

"They change regularly."

"But they go back to the old ones, don't they?"

"Fifteen," I said and we shook.

"Tomorrow night, right here," he said, and I left, a few shillings richer and well and truly laid by a professional.

I went back to the mansion and slept away the day. Near sundown I found Louisa May and asked her where the lady of the house might be. "Off into the country," she said, "won't be back till Friday."

"I need some money, some gold," I said.

"How much?" she asked moving close enough for me to hold her. "Twenty pounds at least," I said.

"Come," she beckoned me with a crooked finger and I followed. In her room on the second floor, she produced a folded purse and extracted a wad of paper money, British as well as American. She smiled and held it out. "Help y'self," she said.

"Got any gold?" I asked trying not to act ungrateful.

She dropped the bills on the floor and displayed a leather bag. It jingled heavily, and she clinked out five five-pound gold coins and was about to give me more when I stopped her, retrieved her bills and watched her toss the small fortune under her bed.

"Now," she said, "you can say thank you properly. You look very fine today, by the by." I had shaved and was a good bit cleaner than the last time we had swived so I was hardly reluctant to accept her invitation. I even had found clean linen. She sat on the edge of her bed; I stepped between her knees and she locked her legs about me and moaned happily as I rogered her to head-shaking excitement and heaving satisfaction. She collapsed back on her counterpane. I pulled her upright, kissed her, tongued her and said, "Thank you. You're a real patriot. And I will repay you."

"No need," she said, clamping her arms around my ribs as far as they would go and kissing my sagging member. " But I've had enough for today, if y'don' mind."

Much later and with my heavy purse in my hand, I walked into the room where the card game was promised as well as the cipher. Somebody hit me hard right behind the ear and I fell to my knees. He hit me again and I studied the rug briefly before I passed out. The fibers stood up like trees, all different colored trees, was my last thought.

I came to in the same room, facing a bored-looking British naval officer. Cindy sat on her couch smiling, and the card game banker clinked my five heavy coins in his nimble fingers and sat beside her. My legs were bound to the chair and my arms tied to the chair's arms. My shirt had been torn open and my pockets turned out. But I could still feel the handle of my big bayonet poking my calf and wondered how they had missed that.

"Now," said the lieutenant in his heavy coat and golden braid, "tell us your name." The card player stopped playing with the coins, lifted a portable desk and dipped a pen in the small inkbottle. I told them my name. Then, after a bit of prodding, I told them I was from Maryland and that I had been in the militia but that my time had expired and I left. I told them I was looking for work, doing odd jobs on the dock. The officer hit me in the face with a heavy pair of gloves, gauntlets I think you would call them. He hit me back and forth several times until he was puffing and stopped. My nose was bleeding and my lips swelling.

I looked across at Cindy and smiled. He hit me again, splitting open my upper lip.

"You are a stupid spy," he said.

I denied it.

"You offered to buy secrets."

I denied it, and he hit me again. I tasted blood and saw stars as his gloves flicked my eyelids.

He asked who my commanding officer was, and he asked where my unit was camped. I pled ignorance. He pulled one glove on and hit me with his fist. He really jarred me, and the area around my left eye quickly began to swell.

"Cindy," he said.

The girl came and sat before me holding the handle of a bronze pot that seemed to be smoking. She withdrew a small piece of charcoal with some fancy pincers, blew on it until it glowed red and then touched it several times near my left nipple until the smell of burning hair and scorched flesh reached both of us. I probably yelled and know I jumped and squirmed. She smiled, dropped that piece to the floor and picked another from her bowl. She blew on it and then held it out toward my already-damaged left eye.

I jerked my head sideways and fell to the floor, chair and all. The officer kicked me and the man who had offered to sell me the cipher helped get the chair back on its feet. Neither of the men noticed that the chair's arm had broken.

Cindy resumed her seat and chose another piece of charcoal. She smiled at me and blew it to glowing redness.

"Are you willing to be blinded for your foolish rebellion?" the officer asked.

I yanked my right arm free, reached down to pull my bayonet from my boot, cut my right leg's bonds, stood on one foot and slashed at the officer, all in a second or two, missing him as he fell back over his compatriot. Cindy screamed and the door burst open to admit two big Marines. I lunged at the nearest one as he swung the butt of his musket at my head.

When I awoke I was in a small, stone cell that smelled of garbage, urine and mold. My head ached and I was hog-tied, my hands and feet bound and tied together behind my back. I still had two eyes and gave thanks for that. I rolled over and started rubbing the knots between my hands against the sharpest stone I could find in the lower part of the wall. I had no idea what time it was or even what day it was. I was hungry and scared. The cell was windowless and evidently deep underground. It was very quiet except for a drip of water somewhere. I rubbed until the heels of my hands bled and then I rubbed some more.

When the cell door opened, it admitted no light, just a swish and a smell, a very fine and strong smell, roses, I thought.

"Roll over," said a woman's voice. I did and felt her sawing at the rope. She cut my hands free and handed me my own bayonet. The feel of the thing comforted me and gave me confidence.

"Cindy?" I asked.

"Hated to see a man with such fine equipment die like a dog," she whispered. "I'm with you. I'm a Whig. Ain't allowed to say who my boss is. I'm jus' a number."

"Where am I?"

"Under the whorehouse."

"Can you get me out?"

"Maybe, it's mornin'. Sorry 'bout them burns." She touched my chest with her fingers.

I stood and followed her down narrow corridors and up stone steps to a locked door. "This here leads outside at the back wall, if it ain't guarded," she said, producing a heavy key. The lock creaked when she turned it.

"Go," she said as the door swung out.

"Hadn't you better come?"

She shook her curly head. "Can do more good in here," she whispered. "Go on."

I put my hand behind her head and kissed her hard. Then I ran.

Since the British and their Tory friends now knew me, Lt. Foster and the captain agreed that my days as a spy might be ended for a while. Louisa May and I managed to find an hour or so to ourselves before I was forced to go back to the real war, and she anointed the burn on my chest tenderly after exhausting me completely.

"Would you like some wine?" she asked after smearing the unguent on my blistered wound. My left eye was still swollen closed.

I nodded, wondering if she had had enough for the time being. I watched her unlace and remove her stays and feared she had not. Still in her lacy shift, she brought me a big glass of burgundy. "Good for your blood," she said, looking down at my shriveled member.

"Isn't Mrs. Von R-- back?" I asked, stalling for time and gulping the wine.

"No, but there's a man downstairs in the drawing room you might want to see. He's telling stories about a Yankee spy who escaped from him, and it sounds a lot like you. Big hairy chap, he said."

"What did he say? Is he a naval officer?"

She nodded, and then kissed me.

"By damn," I said, "I'll kill the bastard."

"He'll keep," she said. "He's trying to seduce Margo. Relax."

I tried to do just that, lay back on the bed and let her do her work. I was soon able to please the lady once more, and we galloped and pranced until we were both spent and sweaty. I left her tangled in the covers, dressed quickly, clamped on my bayonet and ran down the stairs. The sitting room was empty. One of the servants smiled and pointed to the ceiling. I hurried back up stairs, threw open Margo's door and found her busily undressing the Royal Navy lieutenant while he pawed her and nuzzled her lush breasts. She was a lovely woman, full-bodied and nearly unclothed in her lace shift. I paused to admire her multitudinous charms. My stones quivered, but anger triumphed over lust.

The girl's eyes widened and she squeaked out a protest. I spun the man around and hit him in the belly. He fell to his knees and I dragged him by his collar to the stairs and let him tumble down, head first. I fetched his sword and stuck his pistol in my belt. I grabbed Margo by a thick haunch and kissed her hard while I squeezed her oversized breast. By the time I got down to him, he seemed to have recovered himself somehow, picked himself up, reached for his missing sword and faced me, very unhappy.

"You," he cried, and I hit him in the face, aiming for his left eye. I bent his arm behind his back and marched him out of the big house and down past the slave quarters with his sword and belt in my other hand. I was not sure what I was going to do with him, but I suspected that a man with his job might be valuable to our side. The way I felt just then, I wanted to skewer him and get back to the horny and half-dressed Margo. Fights always excited me.

He yelped and begged as I marched him along, and from the back of the summer kitchen came a yell, "Wot the 'ell," cried a loud voice, and there was a Royal Marine buttoning his jacket and another behind him with his long britches hanging at his knees. I yanked the lieutenant around, hit him in the jaw and he dropped like a felled tree, out cold. Then I turned my attention to the Marines, dropped the sword and ran toward the kitchen, pulling the fancy pistol from my belt with one hand and my big blade with the other. I hoped the pistol was loaded and primed, but did not have time to check since we were only twenty paces from each other and the Marine was priming his musket and tossing aside his ramrod.

While the man in the kitchen pulled up his breeches, the other knelt and took aim. I kept coming, dodging left and right, since I likely could not have hit the building at that range. The Marine fired at fifty feet or so, high, and then stood as I got closer, looking properly fierce and hurriedly clamping on his spike bayonet. He moved to meet me, and I knocked aside his clumsy thrust with the pistol and drove my big bayonet into his stomach. I pulled the blade out and beat him to the ground with the pistol as the other Marine stepped out on the back porch. I jumped at him, almost tripped, stuck the pistol in his middle and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Not even a flash in the pan.

We wrestled for a bit over his musket, until I kneed him, pulled it from his hands, poked it at his throat and pulled the trigger just as he threw up his hands and cried, "Quarter, quarter." His Brown Bess scattered his brains and bits of his cranium and jaw all over the yard. I clamped my bayonet on his musket and turned to check on the bleeding man crawling toward the unconscious officer. He was still moaning so I finished him with a grating jab into the middle of his back.

Then I kicked the lieutenant back to his senses and moved him to the creek at the point of my bloody bayonet. I put down the gun and enjoyed myself beating him until my knuckles ached. "No, please," he cried as I showed him my bayonet and began cutting the buttons from his fancy jacket. I slapped him back and forth as he had done me and he sobbed and shook. "Don't, don't," he cried. "I'll cooperate, honestly. Give you my word."

I poked my bayonet's tip into one of his nostrils and flicked it out. He screamed and held his face as bright blood ran through his fingers. I hauled him back to the stable, past the bodies of his two Marines, trussed him up and left him there to be collected with my belongings when I departed. Then, highly stimulated by the action, I hurried back to Margo's room. I had long admired but never tumbled her, and I suspected this was my last chance. I hoped Louisa May would never find out.

I found the young woman as I had left her when I pulled the randy naval officer out of her arms, in attractive dishabille, sitting in a chair at her bedside and looking despondent, long hair wildly awry, legs spread invitingly, half-filled glass in her fingers. "Did you kill him?" she asked, standing when I entered and pulling her flimsy clothes together, looking put upon, blowing a strand of hair from her face, lifting her fine chin and thrusting out her large boobs with their thumb-sized nipples. She put her hands behind her rump and moved her ample hips from side to side.

"He wasn't worth it," I declared, unbuckling my belt and setting my big, bloodstained blade aside.

"What had he done to you," she demanded, backing up to the wall and looking just a bit frightened, a hand now between her jutting breasts, holding her frilly wrapper closed. I wiped my hands on my britches, pulled my long-tailed shirt over my head and stepped before her. She touched the ugly burns on my chest and ran her palms over my nipples. I nodded and took her in my arms and kissed her.

She was a large, warm woman, twelve stone I am sure, and she reached up behind my neck and gnawed at my mouth, groaning in her throat as she ground her mound against me and I kneaded her firm buttocks. She allowed my tongue to explore, my hands to grope her lush body, to caress its mounds and explore its crevices. She wriggled wonderfully as her gown fell from her shoulders. She stopped its descent at her belly, holding both hands at her groin as her nipples hardened atop her shift, I bent and sucked them both, nibbling gently at first one and then the other, licking them hard. Her stays were already shed thanks to her previous encounter I suppose. She moistened her lips and watched me like a raptor as I raised my head from her rigid tit, my fingers busy exploring her. She gasped and pushed me away.

"I'm taking him back with me," I told her as I sat on the bed and pulled off my boots. "He's now eager to talk." I yanked off my britches and stood. She stopped trying to hold her dressing gown together, putting a hand to her mouth and staring at my groin, and I backed her to wall, slid her fancy shift above her hips and stepped between her hefty legs as she put her upper back on the wall and arched her pelvis out at me, showing me her teeth but closing her eyes. She gasped and started to scream as my blunt glans parted her pink lips, and I gobbled up her mouth as I lifted her bodily and drove my turgid lance up into her, both hands grasping her large buttocks as I rammed it home with one fierce thrust, battering my pubic bone into her clitoris as my rigid horn filled her. I ground it in, pulled it back and rammed her hard. She squealed. She likely weighed a hundred and fifty, I decided, but up came her legs and back went her head as my thick pole relentlessly reamed its way up her narrow channel, tearing her open, battering and butting.

"I can't believe you'd have swived that popinjay," I whispered, holding her firmly at the butt and smashing her shoulders repeatedly against the wall while she heaved against me as I lanced her to the hilt again and again with full-length thrusts each ending with a flexing jump that forced it inches deeper. She made gagging noises and flung her wild hair from side to side, clawing at my back. I heard myself grunting with effort and felt sweat popping out on my face.

"Didn't want to," she gasped, bucking into me, lifting her legs still higher, "but you were busy." Her hair dragged the floor as she leaned back against my grip and arched her wonderful body on my rampant mast. "It is my job, y'know."

"Yes," I said as I lowered us to our knees, bending my body back and getting every inch of my striving manhood into her quivering sheath. She screeched, shuddered, clamped me repeatedly within her, flung her arms wide and became seemingly boneless after spasming hard and gushing fluids on my tireless but overheated shaft. I gathered her up on my shoulder and walked her to the bed where I soon had her jumping and moaning and urging me to more effort with her legs up over my shoulders. She just loved those full-length spittings and I gave her a multitude.

"By damn, Margo, " I said, bent above her with both feet braced on the footboard, my hips rogering her steadily in and out and the rest of my straining body just along for the ride, "it's a terrible shame we did not find each other earlier."

"No, oh, no, oh no," she moaned, "we'd never have done anything else" and she spasmed, squealed and appeared to faint again. It seemed to be her way. I was thoroughly satisfied but thought it impolite to leave the lady like that so I pulled my pike from her tight chasm, drawing a ribbon of sticky white juice as I did, revived her with a little water and a few kisses and held her while she came to her senses, gasping for breath and leaking heavy streams that flowed down her thick thighs.

Voices in the courtyard brought me to the window to find both my lieutenant and the major awaiting me. I leaned out, careful not to expose my nakedness or tumescence and told them I'd be right down. "Present for you in the stable," I yelled, pointing.

I turned and there was Margo, panting like run-out racehorse. "Don't leave, don't you leave," she gasped, coming into my arms. There was a great deal of her, and I had yet to love all of it. I sat on the window seat and she mounted up and humped me again until she collapsed with her head behind my shoulder and her back arched, her belly throbbing and oozing while I kneaded her buttocks, my fingers deep in her crack. I walked her to the bed, laid her down, sat and pulled on my boots. "I'll be back," I promised her, patting her raised hip.

"Tomorrow?" she moaned, her hands in the soggy mess between her legs.

"No, but soon."

"Damn," she said.

I found Louisa May waiting for me downstairs. She did not look happy. "I heard you shagging up in Margo's room," she said. "I thought you were exhausted. I'm sure you are now."

"I owed her," I said, kissing her sweetly. She bit my tongue and smiled. I went back to the war. It was safer.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Historical / Violent /