Chapter 8: Young Beth and the Canadians

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 body guard. 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, all of whom 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.

'Naw," 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 inn-keeper.

"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 can be 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 inn-keeper 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 tube 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 bed post, 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.