Chapter 5

(Conclusion)

It was one of those winters that folk remember and talk about for many years later telling exaggerated tales of frozen water wells that refused to melt until the sun was almost down and beloved pets with frostbitten paws that were eventually destined to fall off as useless lumps of waste.

It was a year of increased faithfulness of the bewildered flocks of common people whose prayers wafted high into the cloudless skies like some mindless chant of pagan hordes. Wives and lovers crossed their legs and refused to grant favors knowing that famine was just around the corner.

It was a year of slim pickings for footpads and highwaymen driven to desperate risks for only token rewards.

Meg’s muscular partner Tom was snoring on the floor with only a blanket from the stable over him to keep off the chill. She had made the trip outside to get it because he was not as young as he had been when she first met him and she doubted he would awaken from his stupor of too much drink before the cock crowed a noisy welcome to the morning sun. He had made a fool of himself with the young cunts from the work house giving them loads of cream instead of finding solace in the wise decision to seek rest for his aging bones.

She looked down at his bulk realizing he was getting too old for the Highwayman game. If he continued it much longer, he would wind up dead in the dust at the side of the King’s Highway or with his neck stretched at the end of a rope at the nearest convenient crossroad for all to see the fruits of instant justice.

Her last foray with a pair of lusty lads with agile knees and rampant cocks had convinced her that poor Tom would be better suited to defending their dwelling or keeping intruders away from their loot. She was prepared to broach that delicate subject with him in the full light of day when he would be better prepared to accept the inevitable.

Alfie and Ned had kept her skirts up over her chin most of the night and she felt a need for additional rest as well. Fortunately, she was well versed in such nocturnal adventures and knew she could handle their demands with ease. Of course, she would pretend they had worn her to a frazzle, but that was just to keep them confidant of their manly superiority.

The workhouse girls had scurried back to their nests lest they be cut from the flock and given a taste of the “Cat” with a half dozen of the foreman’s sturdy arm.

Meg was happy that she had never considered for a single moment the wisdom of falling into that debtor’s routine and had taken to the roads in pursuit of her fortune instead. The excitement of pretending to be a young robber lad and stealing kisses from delicate flowers of high society made her heart pound with a frenzy that imitated her reaction to Tom’s huge member buried to the hilt inside her bum. She remembered the first time he did that to her and she had begged him at first to “take it out” and then changed her mind and pleaded with him to leave it in a bit longer even after he had drained his last drop of manly essence into her still shaking torso.

Now, she mounted corseted beauties with her lean hard legs and showed them the path to depravity by rubbing their bottoms with her leather covered “maleness” in pretense of actual copulation done from behind like beasts in the field. She would shower them with her kisses driving them to declarations of “Love” and enduring passion that would last for all eternity. It amused her no end to play with their feminine emotions knowing how fickle a female heart truly could become.

Not wanting to fall victim to being in a motherly way, she preferred to take her share of dick either in her mouth or her bum giving her partner’s full measure of pleasure. It was the good, old-fashioned way of avoiding unwanted complications of childbirth and responsibility for unintended families accepted as common practice, but unmentioned in polite society.

The spring weather was in full bloom now and the juices ran dangerously high in most females of a nubile nature. There was little difference between the most genteel of high-born ladies and the most common of sluts living by their wits by bending over obediently in the nearest dark alley for a single cheap coin pressed into her bosom.

Meg was no different and she had alternated between Ned and Alfie with attention to equal treatment to avoid any dispute over “fair share” of her female favors. The aging Tom was content with his allocation of workhouse fare always ready to bend over or drop to their knees between his muscular thighs. His reputation of being “always ready” was a boon to them secure in the knowledge that they had no need to make numerous preparations just to get their partner in a “giving” mood with the prerequisite hardness needed to consummate the union.

It was already mid-morning when she noticed that Tom was still abed and snoring to beat the band. The other customers and regulars were snickering at his disheveled appearance and made fun of his randy tool standing upright even though the chance of any action was out of the question.

She started to make a God-awful racket at the dwindling fire clearing out the old ashes and banking it with fresh chunks of wood to make certain there was enough heat and coals to take care of all the cooking and the hot water needed to tend the customers. Finally, his long thick form started to show signs of life and she pretended like she was totally disinterested and busy with her own business.

He looked around the room like a man returning from a long and tedious journey although he had not stirred from the house for the entire weekend. He immediately lost interest because the waves of regret and the rising awareness of his hangover hit him full-square putting him right straight back into the prone position like a nail hit by an unseen hammer.