Lovely Little Jean

by realoldbill

Copyright© 2017 by realoldbill

Sex Story: More violence than usual in this Rebel Spy story

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

She was a very small girl, barely five feet high, and she likely did not weigh a hundred pounds although her young body was all curve and valley, hill and mound, slope and ditch, delightful to look at, and, I was sure, even more pleasant to roger. She stood at the side of my table, her hands behind her, rotating her enticing torso slightly from side to side so her jutting boobies brushed by my face one after the other, jiggling as they did, and said, very softly and with mischief in her eyes, “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” Her hand-me-down clothes looked ready to fall from her at any minute.

I quickly thought of a half dozen things, most of which involved getting her naked first, but I kept chewing my tough beef and shook my head negatively.

She made a deep curtsey, displaying her firm little melons almost fully since her thin shift was much too big and her stays were nearly unlaced, and withdrew to deal with her other customers in the crowded inn, skirt swishing from side to side. I watched her dodge grasps for her jutting breasts and skip away from pats and squeezes of her round bottom, cuffing her patrons and giggling at their crude remarks.

The innkeeper plopped himself down across from me and refilled my tankard from his pitcher. “I got t’git rid a’her,” he said. “The wifey insists. Fore m’boys stage a mutiny.”

I kept chewing. His beef took a great deal of chewing.

“We’s had ‘er since she was a pup, ‘bout three years now. Think she was ten or ‘leben when her ma died, my wife’s cousin a’some kine.”

I nodded.

“So she’s been a’workin’ in the kitchen, an’ how was I t’know m’boys done teached ‘er to be a cocksucker. Damn good ‘un, too.” He smiled at me.

I chewed and drank off some of his tepid beer.

“Spect it’s all the spunk she done swallered that popped ‘em out like that.” He gestured with his hands in front of his chest and smiled. “Now she’s got t’go, calf mouf an’ all.”

I wondered if Madam Von R-- would take her; doubted it and thought some more. “How come?” I asked.

“Missus caught me pokin’ ‘er in the pantry t’other day. Had ‘er up on a shelf, squealing like a shoat,” he said looking proud of himself. “Ain’t sure who popped ‘er cherry, probably m’oldest, but she’s ready t’ride.”

“Jus’ another frisker then? Won’t be the first you’ve had here.”

“Cept she’s kin,” he said mournfully. He called the girl over, introduced her as Jean and had her sit beside me, arms folded across her prow.

“I ain’ gonna roger ‘im,” she said, pouting.

“Did I ast y’to?” said the inn-keeper. “You jes’ behave.”

“He’s too damn big,” the girl said, looking up at me. “He tell you they want me to leave?”

I nodded.

“You gonna haul me away?”

I nodded again and tried to look pleasant.

“Where you a’takin’ me?” she asked, big-eyed.

“Down close to the city, a lady’s big house, a nice lady.” I looked down the front of her gaping dress and admired the scattering of freckles splayed across her bulging charms. I knew the ancient madam would be scandalized.

She wiggled and played with her stay strings.

“Aw’right,” she said, “but I got t’say g’bye to some a’my friends. Yer boys ain’ gonna like this,” she said to the inn keeper.

He nodded and looked mournful.

In less than an hour she emerged with a rolled skirt in her hands and mounted with my help.

“I sucked all three a’them,” she said proudly as she grabbed my ribs and wriggled behind me on the wide saddle, legs wide spread and belly tight against my tailbone. Trotting with that little girl bouncing against my back was, I clearly recall, a very stimulating experience. To give the horse a bit of rest, we walked every so often and talked as we did, swinging along a lane, the war completely forgotten.

“How come yer so big?” she asked me.

I chuckled.

“I mean,” she said, “you big all over?”

“You want to see?” I asked, sorely tempted to put her on her back.

“Uh huh,” she said with a smile.

“How come you like to suck men’s horns?” I asked.

“Makes me feel strong,” she said. “In charge. I make ‘em beg for it sometimes, jus’ bring ‘em up and then hold ‘em off. Y’ought’a see the looks on their faces.”

‘You’ve got a mean streak,” I said.

She nodded and laughed. “You want me to suck yours?”

“Not right now,” I said, not sure why.

“How far’s the crossroads?” she asked out of the blue.

“Not sure,” I said. “Haven’t been this way for a spell.” I helped her back up and then trotted alongside the old mare for a while, wondering about the variety of human life.

I saw the sign post and the small patrol at about the same time and jumped into the woods, dragged along the horse and girl and wondering who they were waiting for.

“Jim,” she screeched. “Over here!”

The Redcoats came thundering up the road and had us surrounded in a minute or two since the girl kept howling. She jumped down and ran to one of the big grenadiers. “See,” she cried, “I brung ‘im, jus’ like I said.”

“That you did, little one,” the soldier said, leaning down to tousle her unkempt hair while I got my hands tied behind me and a halter put about my neck. She remounted my horse, swinging a bare leg wide as she did and bringing a few cheers from her admirers. Then we went along for a mile or two with me doing my best to keep up at the end of a rope. It’s hard to run with your hands bound behind you and even harder to get up when you fall.

The Redcoats were camped near a small stream, and I was brought before a lean captain with a sour look and a dirty uniform. I told him my name and outfit, said I was skylarking and probably listed as a deserter, and he had me taken out and tied to a tree with the promise that I would be hanged as a spy in the morning if I refused to cooperate. I pleaded ignorance and got smacked in the face with his gloves for my insolence.

By the time the moon rose, I was both sore and hungry, but I was making some progress, I believed, in getting my wrist bindings worn down on the black walnut’s bark. Then, suddenly, the little girl was standing before me in the starlight with my big bayonet and heavy belt in her hands.

“I’m right sorry,” she said. “I din’ know they was thinking on hangin’ you.”

“Been busy?” I asked.

“Jim and his friend was taking turns,” she said. “I’m kind’a sore. They’s asleep; think everybody is.” She made a face and compressed her soft lips.

“You gonna cut me free?” I asked.

“They’re gonna put me in a cat house. Make me swive all kinds.”

“Not surprised,” I said. “I’ve seen that happen.”

“T’ain’t fair,” she said. “He promised.”

“Men lie,” I said.

“Will you take care of me?”

“Nope,” I said, “but I give you over to some who will.”

“How come?”

“I’m a soldier. Got to get back to my army.”

She nodded, knelt and sawed at the rope between my ankles. Then she walked behind the tree and cut me loose. I rubbed my wrists, stood, buckled on my belt and asked, “Where are the horses?’

She pointed. “We ought’a run,” she whispered.

“I’d rather ride,” I said, taking her hand.

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