Amelia and Greg
Chapter 7

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Drunk/Drugged, Magic, NonConsensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, High Fantasy, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Pregnancy, Big Breasts, Prostitution,

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 7 - When Greg O'Brien rescued Amelia, he knew that there would be problems with the people pursuing her. What he didn't realize was how it would complicate his life.

Sylvia takes the Narrative for a time:

We appeared on a grass covered field full of sunshine. While there were a number of houses and cabins in the area, the most impressive was the Kershaw House. It was a large two story white wooden house with a brick basement, plus a large porch with columns on both stories on the front and two large brick chimneys on the sides. Greg told us that it had served as General Cornwallis’ headquarters while the British occupied Camden.

The site also included a couple of smaller houses and two log cabins as well as a blacksmith’s shop and the remaining foundation of the original powder magazine. The entire area was very peaceful with only a few tourists present who were touring the site and the displays in the various houses. We also toured a portion of the site before stopping for a light lunch on one of the picnic tables here.

Greg had been telling us about the battle which had occurred on August 16, 1780. He named the major players and how many troops they each had in addition to describing what had occurred. As we looked around at the site, Amelia and I both wondered how different the area must have looked some 290 years ago.

“And that all took place here?” Amelia asked.

“Actually, the battle took place some nine miles north of here. Camden was where the British had their supplies and their troops stationed,” he told us.

“But shouldn’t the actual site where the battle took place be where the memorial and the emphases are placed and not here?” Amelia asked.

“One would think so, but that site is covered with other things, so they settled for this site,” Greg told us before going on to tell us about another battle that had taken place near here.

“The Battle of Hobkirk’s Hill was fought not far from here on April 25, 1781 and was another defeat for the Americans even though they outnumbered the British two to one. The deaths of two of the Patriot Commanders during the battle threw their troops into confusion and retreat allowing the British to take control of the field,” Greg told us.

Being a Senior Master, it had been no more difficult for him to memorize the various names of the principal leaders, their unit designations, and troop strength in addition to the details of the battles, than remembering the exact wording of the many spells that he knew in addition to each of their signs or glyphs. We had been here for several hours examining the site before Greg had an announcement.

“It’s time to leave. Our pursuers are approaching, and we need to give them some more rope with which to hang themselves in addition to frustrating them again,” he told us with a grin.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To the King’s Mountain National Military Park. The battle actually took place there, and the American Over-mountain men actually won the battle,” he told us. After collecting our things and disposing of our trash, we joined hands with Greg, and he cast the transfer spell drawing on the Magic of each of us to power it.


In the van approaching Camden a short time later, Gunther and Joey had been driving for over two hours as they neared the city. Well, Joey had been doing the driving and had gotten lost for a short time by taking the wrong turn while Gunther guzzled the beer they had bought while refueling the van.

“I’m going to beat the shit out of that bastard when I get my hands on him,” Gunther repeated for the ninety-seventh time since they had left Charleston, as he finished the last of their beer.

“Yeah, well we’ll need Chip to give us directions to where he is first,” Joey reminded him.

“Yeah ... yeah, just get us into the town and then I’ll call Chip and find out where that bastard is,” Gunther told him in a grouchy voice. As they came into Camden a few minutes later, Gunther picked up the cell phone and dialed Chips number. It rang a number of times before there was an answer.

“Hello!” a tired voice finally mumbled.

“Wake the fuck up, you bastard!” Gunther shouted into the phone. “We been driving our ass off for the past two hours and you’ve been asleep?” he demanded in an angry voice.

“I’m still recovering,” Chip whined, “Where are you?”

“We’re in Camden, it’s a real hick town,” Gunther told him. “Where the hell is that fucking Wizard?” he shouted.

“Wait a minute, I have to look at the screen,” Chip told him with a yawn, and there was silence for a-half minute or so.

“What do you mean, you’re in Camden? You aren’t any-wheres near him. Where the hell are you?” Chip fired back in a grouchy voice.

“Listen you a ... hole, we’re in Camden. What the hell do you mean we aren’t near him?” Gunther roared into the phone. There was silence for a short time.

“Well, if you’re in Camden, then he’s moved again. It must have been while you were on the road,” Chip told him in a sullen voice.

“Yeah, while you were asleep and not watching the screen, you turkey,” Gunther shouted back at him.

“Where the hell is he then?” Gunther demanded next in a somewhat calmer voice.

“Wait a minute, I need to put the map overlay on the screen again,” Chip told him in a nervous voice. This was followed by several minutes of silence.

“You still there?” Gunther grunted after a time.

“Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on, I’m trying to figure a route for you on the computer,” Chip retorted, and this was again followed by silence.

“Damn!” finally came over the phone, but it was followed by silence again.

“How do we get there?” Joey finally asked, as Gunther had gotten out to make a pit stop and get more beer at the fueling station where they had stopped.

“Man, there’s all kinds of local roads that go there, but you have to switch roads all of the time, and you knot heads are sure to get lost,” Chip finally told him.

“Can’t we just put it in the GPS?” Joey asked.

“You can try it if you want, but I’ll guarantee that you’re going to get lost on all of those small country roads. The best route I can find is a bit longer, but it’s mostly Interstate, and you should be able to move faster on it without getting lost,” Chip finally told him in a voice full of despair.

“Well, what is it?” Joey asked, losing patience.

“Okay, here it is. First, head back to Columbia. Before you get there, you’ll see signs for Interstate 77. Get on 77 going north to Charlotte. Before you get to the city, you’ll come to I-485. You’ll want to go north on 485 to Interstate 85. At I-85, take the turn going toward Spartanburg and Greenville. Your destination is a place called Blacksburg. It’s about 30 miles from Charlotte. Once you get there, I’ll direct you to him,” Chip told him.

“That sounds like a long way,” Joey complained.

“It’s about 140 miles, but it’s nearly all Interstate. It should only take you two hours or so. If you use the local roads, it’s about a 100 miles, but it will still take you two hours, and that assumes that you knot heads don’t get lost along the way,” Chip replied.

“All right ... all right, but we’re going to need fuel and to get something to eat also,” Joey told him.

“Yeah ... well make sure that all you do is eat. The Boss said to remind you to stay sober and not to be drinking,” Chip said in a sniveling voice.

“You’re too late already. Gunther has already polished off a six pack of quarts plus the two extras that we bought,” Joey told him in an exasperated voice.

“What, did he drink it all and not let you have any? Aren’t you driving?” Chip demanded.

“Yeah, I’m driving, but I get thirsty too, you know,” Joey groused back.

“Try coffee,” Chip told him before disconnecting. Joey fueled the vehicle before going to find Gunther and something to eat.

Gunther was already halfway through the large plate of food in front of him as well as the quart of beer that he had, when Joey joined him with his much smaller plate and mug of coffee.

“You get directions?” Gunther mumbled through a mouth full of food.

“Yeah, it’s about 140 miles, but mostly Interstate. Chip figures a bit over two hours,” Joey told him, as he began to eat.

“Damn, it will be late afternoon by the time we get there,” Gunther complained.

“What do you expect me to do about it?” Joey demanded in a snotty voice full of frustration.

“Don’t get upset. I’m just saying, it’ll be late afternoon before we get there. If it’s dark before we find him, it’ll be easier to sneak up on him and shoot his ass,” Gunther said with a smile as he took a long swig from the quart bottle of beer.

“I never thought of that,” Joey answered in a more subdued voice. They set out again shortly after eating, but with a renewed supply of cold beer.


We appeared in an area of trees on a paved pathway. The area where we were was lightly forested and we quickly learned that we were on top of a mountain in an area that was only around a hundred feet or so wide at most and much of it was even narrower. The view on all sides showed trees, thousands of acres of trees below us with only a few clearings and a couple of roads visible.

“This was the British position on top of Kings Mountain. The over-mountain men surrounded the mountain in groups under their various leaders, and then assaulted up the slopes through the trees and around the rocks in a very hard fought battle. The over-mountain men had traveled from Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, and Kentucky, which the British still considered part of Virginia. They were joined by some men from South Carolina also. Some of them had ridden here on horses but many had walked all the way from their homes.

“Major Patrick Ferguson was the British Commander. He had invented a very sophisticated, for the time, breach loading flintlock rifle, but none of the men here had them. The battle could have turned out much differently if all or even a part of his men, who were American Tories, had been armed with them,” he told us as we walked along the paved pathway.

There was a tall tapered obelisk that was the U.S. Monument to the battle near us which had several plaques attached to it. As we continued around the site on the path, we came to an area of large trees, but there were smaller and more sparsely spread trees in other areas and on the slopes of the mountain. The path went past another large monument which Greg told us was the Centennial Monument which had been erected in 1880 to commemorate the battle. There were also various other smaller monuments and plaques noting where important people had died or other things had occurred. Greg explained about each of them and named the various leaders of the Patriots, just as he had explained about the larger monuments. On returning to the top of the mountain, we eventually came to a large stone monument where Ferguson’s grave was located.

On the walk around the site, which is several miles long, Greg had explained how the over-mountain men had tracked Ferguson’s unit to the mountain and then attacked up the wooded slopes with their many boulders.

“These men were used to fighting Indian style and they took advantage of all of the cover provided,” he told us, then continued, “Ferguson had some 900 men with him, but the over-mountain men numbered around 1400. The Tories suffered 157 dead, 163 wounded, and 698 taken prisoner, while the over-mountain men had 28 killed and 62 wounded.” We had been surprised at the disparity in the casualty figures.

We had followed the path all the way around the mountain, even climbing the rugged slope back to the top, and we had been carrying our backpacks the entire time, so we were quite tired by the time that we returned to the top of the mountain.

“The Kings Mountain National Military Park covers some3,945 acres in Cherokee and York counties, and the adjacent Kings Mountain State Park covers some 6,885 acres, so we are surrounded by something close to 11,000 acres of mostly trees. I believe that those chasing us will have a bit of difficulty locating us, as they are just now approaching Blacksburg. We still have plenty of time before they arrive, so I suggest that we sit down and rest for a time before we decide to leave,” Greg told us, but we could see Park Rangers encouraging people to leave as it was approaching 5:00 PM.

“I’ll take care of this,” Greg told us and cast an invisibility spell before we all sat down on a nice grassy spot in the late afternoon sun, removed our backpacks and rested for a time, since Greg would know when we needed to leave. It was still warm in the sunlight, and I must have dozed for a time because it was getting dark when Amelia shook my shoulder.

“Time to leave,” she told me.

“I must have fallen asleep, what time is it?” I asked.

“It’s after 6:00, and Greg says they are very close, but still well below us,” she answered. We all rose, donned our backpacks, and joined hands before Greg cast a transfer spell, and we all disappeared.


Gunther and Joey arrived at the Blacksburg interchange exit 102 on the South Carolina portion of I-85 shortly after 5:15 that afternoon. They were out of beer again and would need fuel soon, so they stopped at a fueling station near the Interstate.

“Fill her up, and I’ll get the beer and some sandwiches,” Gunther told Joey, as they pulled up to a pump.

“Why don’t you get the fuel for a change, and I’ll get the beer and sandwiches?” Joey asked in a quarrelsome voice.

“Because I’m the boss on this trip,” Gunther growled at him, as he opened his door and went toward the convenience store. Joey just stared at him for a time before getting out and starting to fuel the vehicle. He was sitting behind the wheel when Gunther returned loaded down with beer, ice, sandwiches, and chips.

“We need to call Chip and find out where that asshole is before it gets too dark,” he told Gunther looking at the sky.

“Yeah, yeah, pull over to one of those parking spots near the building, and I’ll give him a call while we eat,” Gunther told him after stowing most of the new items. Once parked again, Gunther called Chip’s number.

“Are you there?” Chip asked after the second ring.

“Yeah, we’re just outside of town. Where is he?” Gunther asked around a mouth full of sandwich.

“I’m pulling up the overlay now,” Chip told him and there was silence on the line for a time.

“You’re still a good ways from him. You need to go through town and head back east. You passed where he is by using the Interstate,” Chip told them after a minute or so.

“How far back?” Gunther demanded in an angry voice.

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