Miles craned his neck and looked through the powerful spyglass given to him by his doting grandfather. He turned it in a tight semi-circle sweeping it to and fro across the horizon of the Bay Colony.

Not a solitary sail did he sight. Only the seagulls wheeling languidly in his field of vision gave him movement to catch his attention. The relentless waves broke noisily onto the rocky beach far below him.

He moved the telescope down to the exposed houses inside the timbered walls of the settlement. The settlement of some 250 souls was nestled in the sparsely wooded area inland from the sandy dunes. It was protected from the ravages of the harsh coastal weather.

He stayed his movement when he saw Mistress Sabrina hanging her bed linens out to dry behind her family's well-built home. Her father was a master craftsman and had assisted with many of the other dwellings that constituted the establishment of this tiny outpost in the New World.

Miles could see through the lens the shapely outline of her bottom as she bent to her tasks. He felt like he could almost reach out and touch the curved slopes of her buttocks with his greedy fingers.

It had been only two short years since they first sighted land and sailed their ships into this treacherous land of strange creatures and stubbornly fertile fields.

His intended Miss Jennie Goodnight was still firmly ensconced in her family home in Bath. Her last letter of some nine months ago advised him that she had no intention of leaving the comfort of her family estate for some pagan wilderness amongst filthy savages.

Miles was sorely taxed to find any respite from the shroud of depression that had settled over him since the receipt of that devilish letter. The memory of Jennie's soft quim in his hand and the taste of her proud nipples had afforded him many nights of hopeful anticipation of ultimate consummation of their special union. That now seemed quite unlikely.

Recently, he had turned his thoughts to the most comely Miss Sabrina, the elder daughter of Jacob Roderick. Mr. Roderick was the vice rector of their tiny church and was esteemed by all the residents of the settlement. He had lain with Miss Sabrina in the "bundling bed" only last week and was astonished how she had managed to get her hand over the barrier and inside his confining cocoon to grasp and bring his rampant cock to an emission of some duration.

He found that he still vibrated at the thought of her work-worn hands roaming into the secret recesses of his body. Miles was able to get two of his fingers inside Miss Sabrina's clothing and slide them with some success up and down her sweat-soaked bum cheeks and even probe her little pucker hole much to her delight. The sound of her delicious little whimpers of ecstasy caused him to emit some more spurts of stored-up cum juice into Miss Sabrina's loving hand.

Sabrina had whispered into his ear this morning after church services that their next bundling session would be better because she had managed to introduce a gap in the slat that would allow his member to pass through to her side. She told him he would have to make do with inserting it from the rear because she would be required to face away from his side and she could not be able use her hands. Poor Sabrina was quite fearful her father had suspected she was giving favors with her hands to her bundling companions. The young girl knew all too well that her father would redden her ample bottom with a vigorous application of his heavy leather belt.

She cautioned him to aim for her large open slit and not go into her little tiny hole by mistake.

"I don't mind taking it in back there, Master Miles, but it will be so much easier to put it in my cunny. I promise I will be quite wet down there and you should slide in with no difficulty whatsoever."

The much aroused Miles had found this simple guidance to be a spur to his heated anticipation of the next bundling session.

It had been months since Miles had taken up residence inside a pretty little pussy. In fact, the last time was with the widow Anderson. Her poor husband had fallen prey to a sea creature of some size and was dragged under the water in the fishing grounds never to be seen again. It was a terrible way to go, but at least it was quick and there was no mess to clean up. He did his best to console the poor widow and she appeared quite grateful for his efforts.

She gave him her husband's two pistols with a large quantity of ball and powder.

The widow Anderson was much into the practice of anal pursuits.

This was probably due to her French upbringing and a youthful fear of unwanted pregnancy that made her guard her maidenhead jealously beyond what was considered normal for a female of her years.

There was no mistaking her intent when she spread her arse-cheeks wide for him and quivered her brown hole to wink at him in obvious invitation for impalement.

Needing no further encouragement, Miles mounted the widow resolutely and pounded her quite strenuously with much enthusiasm. He was a bit afraid when the watch came to the door to inquire if all was in order inside the small house. The widow was overly vocal in voicing her approval of his enthusiastic slamming of her posterior regions. Her shrill protests were belied by her vigorous grinding of her amorous rump searching for his rampant cock to be stuffed deeply into her fundament.

Several visits to her tight little pussy showed him how little practice the poor widow had received in matters of amorous coupling.

Widow Anderson informed him that her husband was more inclined to oral gratification and used her mouth repeatedly to drain his masculine juices. She demonstrated her proficiency in this area of sexual expertise and he quickly appreciated the extent of her oral prowess. The fact that she had shown absolutely no hesitation to extend her oral ministrations to devious explorations of his nether region made him ever desirous to closet with her in private.

Miles was so lost in his thoughts of the widow's luscious lips that he did not hear the sound of a body slithering up close to his high-ground position.

The very first indication he had of something amiss was when an almost naked body flung itself at him and bowled him over onto his back. His hat went askew and his spyglass fell to the soft turf under his feet. Luckily, Miles was able to get a hold on the attacker's neck and threw him down to the ground beneath him. The naked body writhed underneath him and he wrapped his legs around it subduing it into complete submission.